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thatguywiththefaceog · 7 months

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Kinktober 2023 Day 9-Stripping/Glory Holes

The Ghost and Molly Mcgee-June/ OCs, Darryl/OCs

Darryl takes an horny June to a secret club for kids like them

written for @kinktober2023

requested by @ramdomaxes

Warning the following story contains fictional minors in sexual situations. If this makes you uncomfortable or are under 18 please do not read. This story is rated E for explicit and is for adults only. This story is a complete work of fiction.

June was having a problem. She was horny all the time and was having trouble finding a good outlet. She tried to grind herself against her pillow to little avail. On her nightstand, her phone started ringing. Sighing, she climbed off her pillow and picked up the phone. “June speaking.”

“Hey it’s your boy Darryl. Wanna hang?”

“Sorry, I’m busy masturbating.”

Darryl blinked. He was still getting used to June’s bluntness. “Ah well, I hope you're having fun.”

“Not really, nothing seems to be working. And my parents keep insisting I’m too young for toys despite evidence to the contrary. Hmm, do you know anyone who would be selling some sex toys?”

“Actually, I think I could do you one better. Meet me outside.”

“Should I put my skirt back on?”

“Yes.”

June found herself downtown with Darryl. He took her to a block of warehouses. After passing several of them, he knocked on one in the pattern of 'shave and a haircut'.The door rolled up just enough for the two to walk in before shutting again. An eighth grader approached the two. "Password."

Darryl cleared his throat. "I like your turtles."

He nodded and let the two go further in. June was amazed. Where they were at looked more like an inside of a particular fancy and old fashioned hotel, complete with a staircase leading to a second story, rather than an old warehouse. "What is this place?" Darryl handed her a card. She read it aloud. "Andrea presents Gentlelad’s: Adult fun for kids."

"It's a sex club. But you know, for kids."

"I gathered. Thanks."

"Well, you have great timing cause the big show is about to start!"

He led her to a big auditorium with a stage. June still had no idea how this all fit inside this warehouse. The curtain rose and Andrea herself appeared. She was wearing an elaborate green dress. "Welcome one and all to Gentlelad's. I'm happy to see so many faces here. Enjoy the show!"

Jazzy music started playing as opposed to the pop songs Andrea normally sang. June was surprised when Molly and her friend Libby came and joined her in song. Well Molly did.

"I don't know how to sing," Libby staged whispered.

"You don't need to know how to sing, just dance sweetie," Andrea told her.

Both Molly and Libby were in the same dress that Andrea had on, save for they were red and blue respectively. The three thirteen-year-olds danced in sync with each other. Molly and Andrea were singing together while Libby (poorly) lip synced to them.

The real surprise was when the three of them bent down and grabbed the hem of their dresses and tore them off their bodies. The three of them technically had clothes underneath but they didn't hide much. The sheer bra and panties were see through, showing off their hard nipples and bald pussies.

Molly kept on singing as Andrea brought in Libby for an open mouth kiss. After a couple of verses, the kissing broke apart and Andrea took up the song as Molly put her mouth on Libby's. Soon all three girls had turned around showing off their derriere.

June had heard a zipping sound and turned to see that Darryl had pulled his cock at and was furiously stroking himself. While June had seen dicks online, this was the first she'd seen in person. Her face flushed. June had to admit that the burlesque dance was quite arousing. And seeing half naked people in the flash was so much more exhilarating in person than on a computer screen. She looked around and noticed Darryl was the only one happily masturbating to the sight of his sister's butthole.

Molly's body was very attractive, June thought. When in Rome she guessed. She pulled down her tights and hiked up her skirt. Her sex was already wet when she slid her fingers into it. She let out a low throaty moan as she watched the three thirteen-year-olds practically fuck each other on stage. She felt herself cumming, her walls spasming around her fingers, her juices spraying into the aisle. Darryl also came, the sight of his sister eating Andrea's ass particularly driving him over the edge as he fired his cum onto the back of the seat in front of him.

As the current closed, June went to pull her tights up but Darryl stopped her. "You might want to leave those off." He had dropped his shirts and boxers over his shoulders. His penis dangled freely between his legs. "The night's just getting started. But first I gotta pee."

June could use a post orgasm urination as well. She entered the girls bathroom to reveal herself. She was greeted by a trans girl her own age getting a blow job from her friend. She could hear moans and the sounds of prepubescent bodies slamming together coming from the stalls. She entered a free one and relieved herself in the toilet. She wiped her vagina and washed her hands next to the trans girl who was now cumming all over her friend's face.

When she met Darryl in the lobby he had keys in his hand. His cock was already chubbing again. "Got us a room."

June's heart thumbed as she followed her friend. A trail of slick ran down her thigh as she walked around in public with her ass out. Most of the other kids in the place were in various states of dress themselves, so she and Darryl got little attention. June didn't know to be revealed or disappointed at this.

They entered the room Darryl got them. The ground was covered in cushions and padding. To the left were several very large beds while to the right was a wall covered in holes. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were for.

"I figured since this is your first time to one of these, you might be a little shy. So I thought glory holes might be for the best."

It was true. June had been feeling a knot in her stomach at the thought of fucking some strangers. This was so much easier. She didn't know what to say, so she hugged Darryl. He hugged her back. It was nice, even as their genitals briefly touched.

As she knelt in front of the holes, she heard a coughing noise. Darryl pointed to her shirt. Right, she thought to herself, don't want to make a mess. She pulled off the sweater vest and her white colored button down. Her parents considered her too young for bras, so her flat chest was exposed to the room.

Soon several cocks began emerging from the holes. Judging from the sizes, they were all children her age. The thought thrilled her. She began stroking a black one. Then she licked the head like she was licking an ice cream cone. She used her other hand to jack off another dick.

Behind her, Darryl was letting several more girls in for his own pleasure. Most were around his own age but a few as young as eight and as old as fourteen. He quickly got to work fingering one while sucking on the nipple of another.

June was finally sucking her first cock now. Her lips met sub inches from the wall as her tongue danced around the appendage. She was surprised by the taste of the dick, sweaty and hot. Like working out after a long day. It was intoxicating. One of the dicks she was pumping came, shooting the milky, good, liquid all over her chest. It felt warm on her skin. June was very glad that she was topless now.

Darryl had taken the eight-year-old from behind and was fucking her pussy hard. She screamed in a high pitched noise was she came, Darryl flooding her sex with his seed. When he pulled out a girl closer to his own age and the fourteen-year-old started cleaning it off with their tongues.

The black kids cock finally came, giving June her first taste of semen. It was not unpleasant. She took the next dick in her mouth and blew him until he coated her face with cum. Darryl was humping one of his preteen sluts, pumping his cum into her underage pussy.

June felt a twinge in her own pussy as a trail of slick ran down her thigh. Hearing Darryl fuck those girls combined with the scent of the cum covering her was driving her crazy. She turned around and pressed her behind against one of the glory holes. She gave a yelp as she felt a dick slide into her wet sex. Whoever was on the other side was very eager and filled her pussy nicely. He came without pulling out, flooding the preteen's vagina with his seed. It felt nice to have warmness fill her up.

He pulled out only for another to fill her dripping cunt. As she was rocked, June saw Darryl eating out one of the girls. He held his fist out in a fist bump. Which she returned.

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #the ghost and molly mcgee #tgmmg #sour lemon

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thomsonjohns74 · 2 years

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#bypass paypal conversion fees

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ultraericthered · 2 years

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Random DHMIS Thoughts

First some ellaboration on stuff I very recently talked about here.

Much like The Path, Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared is an experience that rides on being both surreal and abstract, where no clear narrative is being told and you have to do a lot of thinking about what you’re being shown rather than just take it all at face value. There are in fact two stories being told simultaneously, an outer plot and an inner plot. Given all the evidence, this is the way in which I interpret them both:

Outer Plot: It’s June 19. Red Guy, Yellow Guy, and Duck Guy are set up to engage with a TV show that’s being made by Yellow Guy’s father, Roy. At early morning, they do their lesson on creativity that goes awry when Roy and his camera crew tamper with it. Closer to 8:30 AM, the three friends go to watch Craig’s Big Day only to be interrupted by a lesson on time, where the clock ages them all to death once they start asking too many questions only for this to be immediately reversed. Wanting to boost the funding and sponsorship of the show, Roy then arranges for the three to be held hostage and the show put on hold until the money is delivered. That afternoon, the three are free to have a lunch picnic when Roy springs the lesson on love onto his son. Much later in the afternoon is the computer’s lesson, which gets Red Guy so dissillusioned with Roy’s show and how fake everything about it is that he walks out on it completely. This leaves Yellow Guy and Duck Guy on their own that evening, when Roy rushes the healthy eating lesson out only for constant phone calls by Red Guy and Duck Guy’s own deepening anxiety to lead to Duck Guy declaring his intent to stop participating in the show as well. So Roy has him “canned”, literally, even having his son eat his cooked remains. All alone now, Yellow Guy goes to bed only to be ambushed by the lesson on having dreams. At this time, Red Guy returns from wherever he’d self exiled to and starts messing with the machine Roy uses to control the show while Roy is out, but all he accomplishes is driving an already traumatized Yellow Guy further into madness. Roy re-enters the room and tries to take back the controls of the machine, but as he reaches out for it, Red Guy literally pulls the plug on the entire show, prompting a reboot where all three friends are together again and are their own favorite colors, it’s finally a new day, and all seems fine... ‘til the creativity lesson starts again.

Inner Plot: As a child, Red Guy was friends with the younger Yellow Guy and the older Duck Guy. Then Red Guy had his final birthday as a kid, on June 19. Between then and him graduating school and getting a job, Duck Guy’s physical and mental health took a downturn until he passed away, and Yellow Guy’s father Roy also passed away, leaving Yellow Guy to inherit the family name and business. Yellow Guy had dealt with his share of trauma growing up too, but accepted that he had to live in reality and be a responsible adult all the same. Red Guy did not. So Red Guy retreated into his own head, regressing his mind to that of a child’s and imagining a fantasy world where time never moves beyond that fateful June 19, he and his two friends are together, and they live in a world that’s like one of the educational childrens’ puppet shows that he used to enjoy so much as a child. The problem? He’s not a child anymore, so his mind is in constant disarray and the reality of adulthood is always disturbibg his daydreams, taking the form of Roy and the twisted show he runs. One day on his way to work, Red Guy makes a call to Yellow Guy and asks him to come visit him at the longue he and his co-workers go to after their work is done. Red Guy later falls asleep and daydreams on the job, making it discomforting when he wakes up to the reality that had kept intruding. He is ridiculed and rejected by his co-workers when he relays his imagination and performs nude with puppets at the longue. Afterwards, he and Yellow Guy have a talk where Yellow Guy tells him straight up that he can’t keep retreating from his adult life like this and no matter how hard he tries he will never be able to exactly recreate his childhood without it feeling wrong and disturbed by the ugly truths of reality, and eventually Red Guy agrees with him and learns to let go and move on with his life in a healthy way, achieving a more balanced state of mind as a result.

Now for what I REALLY wanted to address - the part that leaves the biggest impression on me. The final 2 minutes of the final episode.

The second Roy’s hand lands on Red Guy’s shoulder, the dramatic musical score kicks in. Red Guy ought to know that this long, outstretched yellow arm and hand belongs to Roy, yet he still jumps back in surprise when he actually sees him emerge from the misty darkness of the room, this room being metaphorical for Red Guy’s mind, somewhere between the outside world when you’re awake and the internal world when you’re asleep and dreaming. Once this is understood about the room, it becomes clear that not only is the Red Guy’s dream world playing out on the screen on the machine, but Roy coming in from behind the Red Guy is like the ultimate metaphor for an ugly adult reality penetrating its way into Red Guy’s childish retreat. This is why the music gets so scary, dramatic, and booming - this is now a Moment Of Truth for the Red Guy. Him messing around on Roy’s machine and only making things worse and more chaotic and traumatic for Yellow Guy, which is now driving him mad to the point where he’ll end up just like his dad, was representative of the futility of trying to solve a mental problem - wanting to relive childhood - by doubling down on more of that problem. No matter what Red Guy does, the nightmare does not become a pleasant dream again, and with Roy in the room, it can only get worse. So it’s come down to two possible resolutions for Red Guy to choose from - either allow the grown-up inside his head to take back control and plague his thoughts and dreams forevemore, or finally BE the grown-up inside his own head and deny Roy that power by pulling the plug on the machine, ending “the show” and then “rebooting it” himself.

Obviously, thanks to whatever talk he and the present day “Roy” in reality just had, Red Guy makes the latter choice. And right before pulling the plug, he says one last child-like thing: “I wonder what will happen?” (callback to what he said in Episode 3 to set up the love lesson). Keeping yourself regressed and stagnant keeps things familiar and predictable, but when you have to really push yourself forward in life and accept the reality of growing up, you’re not sure what’s going to happen and how you’re going to end up, and you might even be scared to try (Don’t Hug Me, I’m Scared, get it?) But eventually you have to do it, and if you go about it right, you could even find it wasn’t all that you’d feared it was going to be.

What’s your favorite idea?

#Don't Hug Me I'm Scared #opinion #analysis #wild mass guessing

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

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Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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hcneymilkks · 3 years

Text

Month

A fake dating au but make it marriage. Two best friends scroll on social media and notice a trend where newlyweds send invites to famous celebrities to see what will happen? An appearance? A gift? Who knows. For the two best friends, as a joke, set up a fake wedding and request the most expensive gifts with the option of money. Sending invites to celebrities ranging from Kim Kardashian to even the Queen, they are surprised and shocked to realize that not only were gifts being delivered nearing the “big day” but a request to be part of the celebration causes the two friends to create a fake marriage in the smallest amount of time they have.

University AU! Aged-up Haikyuu Characters!

Fashion Designer/Psychologist Oikawa

Humanities Y/N

Rain splattered on the window, causing little droplets here and there to roll down with no hesitation. The quiet hums of lo-fi music made its way around the little bedroom, with vigorous typing accompanying it.

Backspace.

Enter.

Click and delete.

Brain throbbing, a sigh escaping from the lips.

It was no use, the longer the computer was stared at, the more your brain felt like mush.

“Damn him and using me to do his research analysis.”

Speak of the devil.

“Y/n!”

You stood up, turning around and crossing your arms with a glare. There he stood, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a sly smirk on his face.

Tooru Oikawa.

“How’s the report going? I hope to see it done by tomorrow?”

“Fuck you,” you strided over and pushed his arms, causing him to slightly lose balance. “Just tell me how you managed not getting kicked out yet. I swear you casted a spell on your professors or something. It's like you don’t do anything.”

He feigned hurt. “I do!” He whined. “Just not class related.” He pushed past you and flung yourself onto the bed, burying his face into your freshly washed sheets. “I’m designing a new clothing line inspired by the different volleyball team colours.”

“Is this your way at relieving the pain from not making it to nationals?” you snickered, remembering how pissed off he was after Ushijima told him he should have gone to Shiratorizawa.

“I-you little shit. This is why I never tell you things.”

“Shut up shittykawa you literally are making me do your research proposal. I know nothing about psychology!”

“I’m helping you learn a new subject! It’s time to look into your own brain and see what’s wrong with you!”

…

Three.

Two.

One.

“OIKAWA YOU LITTLE SHIT!” you flung yourself on top of him, garnering an oomph! sound. You smacked his back repeatedly.

He let it have your way, already coming up with a counterattack.

With stinging hands and shallow breaths after saying nothing but curses, you stopped and climbed off of him. Immediately, he’s on top of you. Pinning your wrists and getting dangerously closer to your neck. You couldn’t lie, he was attractive, but knowing him and his two-faced personality, you’d rather stay friends.

But did you really want to?

A part of him knew you wanted him, but was that a risk you were willing to take?

Deep breaths.

A low chuckle. “You love me y/n. I know you do, and I also know you’d do anything for me.” He smirked and pressed a kiss oh so close to your lips, getting up and dusting off his black shirt.

“I’m leaving! Remember, the paper has to be done by tomorrow!”

The door closed and for a moment you looked at your ceiling.

Eyes wide.

Taking a pillow, you screamed into it.

“SHITTYKAWA!”

“Here you hoe, now for once in your life do your own work.”

You stomped into one of the many University studios, aiming the folder at Oikawa’s head much to his dismay.

“Thank you love you!”

You glared at him and waved a hand. “You definitely owe me like five bowls of ramen after what you put me through. I can’t believe you made me read so much on children’s brains and development.”

“I mean they said to choose something I liked, so children and volleyball worked together. Plus, if I actually had to conduct the research, my nephew’s volleyball club would have been perfect.” He finally turned around after pinning the teal fabric to the mannequin, striding towards you and ruffling your hair.

You mumbled incoherent curses as Oikawa picked up his sketchbook, writing down a quick note before closing it.

“Let’s go, I’m starving.”

The fragrant air of spices and creamy broth filled the little shop, making you drool. Grateful that Oikawa was rich, you took the opportunity to order almost everything on the menu.

“Y/n isn’t that-” you growled at him and he smirked.

“Feisty, you know I love that.” he winked and you gagged.

While waiting for the food, both of you were scrolling on Instagram. Having most of the same friends, it was no surprise that your timelines almost looked identical. Rolling his eyes, Oikawa saw a group photo of most of the volleyball players Hinata was pictured with, wanting nothing more than to squish the little one.

But then something caught your eyes.

You looked up at Oikawa who seemingly had the same expression, eyes wide, yet confused.

The dead groupchat came back to life with a link sent by Matsukawa, something about a bet.

matthewkawa

Look at this lol

Sent a link

[Youtube storytime: The Time I Invited Drake to My Wedding (Spoiler Alert: He Came!)]

hannamaki

Wait why would someone invite a celebrity? Aren’t they hard to ask?

nishinoyya

Wait that’s cool! Asahi-san can we invite Jason Derulo to our wedding?

acai

Wait...what? What wedding?

y/n

Waittt i’ve seen that video

Apparently as a joke the person sent lots of invites to different celebrities. Most of them gave gifts or money but I guess Drake went

iwachew

LOOL IMAGINE Y/N AND CRAPPYKAWA DOING THAT

yoyoinata

I can see that woah!

milkyama

Psh! Flattykawa and y/n. I can’t see it. y/n deserves better lol

fabkawa

OI TAKE THAT BACK STUPID

y/n

Oi don’t talk back to my child like that shittykawa

fabkawa

Shut up y/n and eat your ramen

You glared at him before saying thank you to the waiter. Both minds now occupied with the creamy ramen and soft boiled egg.

Flipping a page, you smiled. There it was, the fake couple who both fell for each other, breaking so many rules. But who couldn’t resist?

Oikawa scrolled on the computer, typing and clicking. He swiveled around in his seat and went over to you, peering over your shoulder.

You smacked his arm. “Personal space excuse me!” He put his arm up in defence, smirking.

“Remember the post Matsukawa sent?

“Yeah. So what?”

“I made the wedding on May 14th and invited some celebrities. Who did you want to send an invite to?”

You dropped the book. “Say what?”

Oikawa dragged you from his bed and sat you down on his uncomfy chair. Indeed, the computer screen showed a cheesy website where people rsvp to weddings. Already half of the groupchat accepted and you know this had to be a joke.

“Oikawa are you dumb? Who are you marrying? Wait no, who would want to marry you?” you looked at him and he pouted.

“Iwa-chan said no, Mad Dog scares me, Ushijima is definitely a no, so you’re left.”

“Who said I would do it?”

“I invited Stray Kids.”

Are you kidding me?

“This isn’t real, we’re not gonna really get married right? I mean if we were technically speaking, the wedding is less than a month away and we don’t have money, a reception place or any other sappy wedding shit.” You looked at the list and sure enough, Stray Kids was there.

“No y/n nothing is going to happen trust me. Plus, who doesn’t like free gifts? I tried to ask for expensive gifts and money because someone’s wardrobe and apartment looks ugly as hell.”

“You better not be talking about me bitch. I’m gonna set that sketchbook on fire.”

Oikawa chuckled. “Add some more people on the list, I wanna see how far this can get.”

“I never said I agreed to it,” you mumbled but nonetheless added in a few of your favourite celebrities, including the queen.

After all, if this worked, free money. What’s the harm in that?”

A lot went wrong after that.

It was three am a week after the planning and your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Grumbling, you answered the call without looking at the number…..which was a stupid mistake.

“Y/N! HOW DO I CANCEL THE WEDDING?!”

“Relax Papi you said nothing would happen? Free money right?” you yawned not even realizing what you said.

Oikawa sputtered on the other line, shaking his head and ignoring how you called him Papi for some reason. “Yeah but uh...we have a little problem.”

“Hm…”

“Jason Derulo accepted the invite ...and he can’t wait to see the ceremony.”

From that moment, you were fully awake. “WHAT?!!”

“What do you mean you can’t cancel the wedding?” you rubbed at your temples, losing more brain cells by the minute.

"Okay so apparently my last name is common around celebrities, seeing as my father owns different restaurants. So it’s not a surprise to them that they wouldn’t attend the wedding.’

“Fuck.” you breathed out. How did the both of you not realize this?

“Okay so um..what now?”

Oikawa ruffled his air. “We go through with it.”

"Fuck no.”

“What why?”

You’re the one who thought of this crazy idea! It’s all your fault!”

“But you’re the one who put Jason Derulo in there!”’

You smacked your forehead. “It was a joke and for free money! Look what you got us into.”

Yells back and forth, each blaming the other. It was like the night wasn’t going to end soon. Tired from the arguing, you smacked Oikawa’s chest. “Stupid,” you mumbled. “I don’t want to do this!”

Oikawa scratched the back of his neck. “But what if I want to?” You looked up at him confused. “You know, like how Hinata and Tobio fake dated but then became boyfriends.”

“Oikawa, that’s different. That’s dating, this is marriage. It’s adult stuff, I can barely cook!”

“I’ll cook for you.”

You walked away from him, going towards his balcony. The view was beautiful, seeing various stars and the lights shining from Tokyo. “This is too much for me to handle. You're a pain, you know that?”

He wrapped his arms around you and instinctively you snuggled closer to his chest, facing the view so he wouldn’t see your red cheeks.

"Remember when we were children? And we had a whole promise that we would be with each other forever?” you laughed. The classic child marriage pact. It was as if almost all friendships started with that promise. A promise to love and stay with each other no matter what.

“That’s child play.”

He started to rub circles with his thumbs on your arms, you feeling relaxed. “One month. Give me one month after the wedding. We’ll go on a honeymoon to London, I'll teach you how to cook, you can live with me, we can adopt a puppy.” Oikawa gulped and looked at you. “And if you don’t like it, we can pretend none of this happened. In fact i’ll stop bothering you with my assignments and my presence.”

One month. That sounded like a challenge. A challenge that Oikawa was willing to risk everything for. A month to make you fall for him.

“...so we’re splitting the gifts and money equally then, right?”

A/N: I’m back! This has been in my drafts for months. At first it was supposed to be Yuto from Pentagon but after getting into Haikyuu I was like fuck it and changed it to Oikawa. Also because yes LMAO. I hope you all liked it and let me know your comments! Part two will be in the works if people want it, for now its a oneshot aha.

Much love!

tags: @babyworld , @bakuhoes-dumbass

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Long Night in the Valley chapter 12

The scene shifted the moment Tempest woke up. They were outside, on a street in the middle of the city. Storm clouds circled overhead.

Tempest stood in front of them, hands in her pockets, a bland expression on her face.

“So,” she drawled. “You’re Nine’s friends.”

“Uh,” said Ochako, taken aback. Right after Four had said she wouldn’t talk to them, this was disconcerting. “Yes?”

“I’m his teacher,” said Aizawa, stepping forward.

“Yeah? You think you’re doing a good job raising up little child soldiers?”

“Excuse me?” said Aizawa.

“You heard me.” She shifted her gaze to Ochako, then to Todoroki and Iida. “I bet Souma told you I wouldn’t be talking to you.”

“He did say something along those lines, yes,” said Iida, even as Ochako worked very hard to elbow him.

“I can follow why he’d think that,” Tempest said. “I spent most of my life fighting against the government. Lord knows I wouldn’t have approved of him choosing a ‘pro hero’ to follow after him.” She took her hands out of her pockets to make air quotes. She was wearing brass knuckles. “Whatever a pro hero is supposed to be. Government lackeys. Cops and war criminals with a different name. I’m shocked he pulled a halfway decent person from the muck.”

“We’re not war criminals!” protested Iida.

“Oh, yeah? I forgot, the Geneva convention was nixed, wasn’t it? They had this big meeting and decided none of it applied to metahumans, and then, bam! Everyone’s a metahuman, so it doesn’t apply at all, huh? Neat, right?”

“What we’re doing now might not be what you’re used to,” said Ochako, “but it’s the way society works, now.”

“And we’re not killing people, like you did,” said Iida. Ochako winced at his combative addition.

“I did what I had to, to get people out of the torture camps,” said Tempest. “People like my little sister. You know what they did to her? They thought her power was just controlled by her voice. So, they cut out her vocal cords.”

“They don’t do that anymore,” said Todoroki.

“You think a government like that is just going to stop doing things? Without people making them? Without being forced?” Tempest laughed and looked up at the swirling sky. “Maybe you do. You’re just kids, after all. But tell me this, do you think they didn’t know exactly what was happening to your family, Todoroki Shouto?”

Aizawa cleared his throat. “What’s your point, here?” he asked. “What do you want from us?”

Tempest looked back at Aizawa. The coldness in her brown eyes made Ochako shiver. “We could have kept you out,” she said. “That Suzuki idiot, too. Do you know why we didn’t?”

“Enlighten us,” said Aizawa.

“Because the way we do it would cause irreparable brain damage. We know, because we’ve done it before. I thought it was worth it, but the others didn’t want to hurt ‘Nine’s friends.’”

“Are you implying that we aren’t Midoriya’s friends?” asked Todoroki, frowning.

Tempest huffed and wind whipped down the road, making Ochako cover her face.

“No. To be honest, I’m not completely sold on Nine, either. He wanted to part of the system so bad, and that’s not to mention—” she huffed again. “At least he knows what it’s like to be on the other side of the equation. You four, though… I’m stuck with Nine. I don’t owe you anything and you’re causing all these problems. What I want from you—”

Behind her, lightning snapped down from the sky.

“—is to prove to me you’re worth it.”

“Vlad, the police were able to find your car,” said Powerloader, holding his hand over the receiver of the staff room telephone.

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Vlad. “I hate taking public transportation.” He paused. “I mean, uh, did they find Yagi? Is he alright?”

“No, they didn’t find Yagi.”

“Great,” said Vlad. “So, ask them when I can pick it up. Why are you making that face? Did Yagi total it? I bet he did. ‘Symbol of Peace,’ my—”

“No,” interrupted Powerloader. “Yagi didn’t total it. Or crash it. It was parked in an alley near the Musutafu entertainment district.”

“Where Midoriya had that fight with Hawks,” said Vlad, putting his head in his hands. “It got wrecked by one of them, didn’t it?”

“No,” said Powerloader. “It was parked in an alley. They found it on a security camera. It isn’t there anymore.”

“They took it again?”

“The League of Villains took it.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

The bus felt empty with half the class missing. The remaining 1-A students (plus Shinso) were all huddled together at the front, mooching off of the teachers mobile hotspots.

“Did my email go through yet, kero?” asked Tsuyu, leaning over her seat to look at Denki’s computer.

“Not yet,” said Denki. “I’ve got all the pictures you guys sent arranged, but I wish we had more video material. Ashido was the one with the most…” He sighed. “Ashido, gossip queen, when you wake up I will apologize for all my comments about your hobbies.”

“I have some videos of Midoriya.”

“Trust us, Mineta, no one want your videos,” said Yaoyorozu.

“Huh? Why not?”

“Tell us this. How many of your videos are actually of Midoriya and don’t just have him incidentally in the background while you try to film girls.”

“None of them,” said Mineta, obviously not seeing why this was wrong. “Why would I film Midoriya?”

“Mic,” said Midnight, “please remind me to sign up the walking lawsuit for some sensitivity classes. How did Eraser miss this?”

“Unfortunately, Shouta is about as sexual as the average rock, so…”

“Remind me to sign him up for some training, too, then.”

“Will do.”

“Walking lawsuit?” asked Mineta.

Everyone else sighed. Then Denki’s laptop pinged.

“Huh. I just got an email from Principal Nezu.”

The adults, including Green Light, the bus driver, blanched. Adults were bothered by the weirdest things. In the end, Nezu was just a guy with a quirk, right? A hero, even! Principal Nezu, the Education Hero!

Okay, he’d scared Denki (Mr. Terrible Grades) a lot in elementary and middle school, but really.

(Okay, the crane thing at the Final Exam had been high-key terrifying, but he was trying to get past that.)

“Huh,” repeated Denki, having read the email. “That’s interesting.”

“What is it, my electric friend?” asked Aoyama, drapping himself sideways across his seat.

“Aoyama-san,” said Midnight, “don’t put your feet on the windows.”

“Principal Nezu sent me a link to an ‘All Might adopt a kid’ fanfiction, and it’s by—”

“Midoriya writes fanfiction?” asked Shouji, evidently surprised into using his real mouth to speak.

“That’s cute, kero,” said Tsuyu. “It must have been before he met the real All Might, though.”

“No,” said Denki, “it was last updated just a couple of weeks ago, and, well… Midoriya didn’t write it.”

“So, who did?” asked Yaoyorozu.

“Not Nezu, right?” asked Jiro, winding her earphone jack around her finger.

“There’s no way, right, Kaminari-san?” asked Present Mic, nervously.

“Uh, no, no, it’s, uh, it’s All Might. According to Nezu.”

A beat of silence.

“What?”

Denki inserted his pinky into his right ear, trying to clear it. Man, if the Bakusquad had been here rather than the quiet half of the class…

“Yeah, it says here that this serves All Might right for working on this during school hours?”

More silence.

“Green Light, the road!”

“Oops, sorry!”

“Hey, guys, are we sure that All Might didn’t, you know, kidnap Midoriya rather than the other way around? Guys?”

Gran Torino, also known as Torino Sorahiko, was an active hero. That meant late nights and late mornings. He was also an old man. A very old man. Late mornings often turned into noons and afternoons.

Sometimes, during those noons and afternoons, he liked to ignore technology and the outside world for a good long while. Maybe read the paper a little bit. Or one of those terrible romance novels Nana had left him in her will.

Still, he was a hero, one wrapped up in something best described as a two-hundred-year-long shadow war, so eventually he did turn on the news.

Only to see Toshinori’s boy fighting Hawks on live television.

Not to mention Toshinori hanging out in the background with a shaved head.

And the ticker said UA student Midoriya Izuku kidnaps Symbol of Peace.

(Which was the dumbest thing he had ever heard, and under other circumstances, he would have been rolling on the floor laughing.)

Gran Torino was an old man, but, luckily, he only felt like he was simultaneously having a heart attack and a stroke. His body was more than functional enough to place a not-at-all panicked phone call to one Tsukauchi Naomasa.

Tsukauchi Naomasa was incredibly busy. That busy-ness was divided mostly evenly between desperately trying to find his best friend (who had evidently decided to make a hopefully brief foray into kidnapping teenagers) and trying to figure out what the commission was taking, because it had to be illegal. Oh, and putting together a complaint that the commission was infringing on police prerogatives.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how much traction that last would get, since pro heroes had been steadily gaining more and more responsibilities even as the police were losing both them and the power that came with them. Not to mention Midoriya’s stunt with Hawks… Which… Naomasa just wanted to know why? What had the point of that been? On either side?

(Sometimes he wished he were friends with normal people. Like… he didn’t know… an accountant, maybe?)

(Not that he would give Toshinori up for the world. Just, some normalcy would be nice, too.)

He took a deep breath, remembered what he always told Toshinori about stress, and took a mouthful of room-temperature coffee.

In that thirty-second period, two more problems presented themselves to him.

One, his cell phone began to ring, displaying the contact information for Gran Torino.

Two, his email softly pinged, and a message from Principal Nezu asking for any images or videos Toshinori might have sent him slid into his inbox.

Briefly, Naomasa considered ignoring both of them, but that wasn’t a realistic option and was irresponsible besides. Contrary to his character.

He picked the lesser of two evils and answered Gran Torino’s call.

Garaki was going to have a mental breakdown. This was fitting because his car had broken down. Midoriya Inko was asking him if he thought that his ‘friend’ might come pick them up, if it was safe. If his ‘friend’ had a car.

This last had almost sent him into hysterics. Gigantomachia in a car oh-ho!

Except it wasn’t funny at all, as this was almost certainly going to result in his death at the hands of All for One. No matter that he considered the man his very dearest of friends, he was under no illusions about what All for One would do to him over this inexcusable error.

Perhaps he should just cut his losses and get one of the remote-activated noumu to come for them.

Then, inexorably and inevitably, things managed to get even worse.

“Stop the car!” shouted Tomura.

“But you said not to—”

“I know what I said! Stop the car!”

Tomura twisted to see out the rear passenger window. Everyone else turned to follow his gaze, effectively blocking his view.

“Get out of my way!” demanded Tomura.

There was some awkward, half-hearted shuffling.

“Does that look like anyone to you?” Tomura hissed.

“Yeah! Like the doctor!” said Toga.

“I’ve never seen him standing up, though,” said Spinner, dubiously. “It seems out of character.”

“I didn’t know he owned a car,” mused Compress, rubbing the bottom edge of his mask.

“Not him!” snapped Tomura. “The woman!” He pointed angrily at the rapidly approaching woman with green hair, narrowly avoiding dusting Mr. Compress’s top hat.

“Eh? What about her?” asked Spinner.

“Doesn’t she look familiar to you?”

“To be honest, everyone without mutation quirks looks kind of the same to me.”

“Someone without face blindness.”

“Oh! She looks like Izu-kun! Do you think that’s his mom?”

The woman knocked on the window of the car. Twice, unhelpfully rolled it down.

“Thank you so much for stopping, we—Oh!” She took a step back.

She apparently recognized them. Joy. He was going to unpack his feelings about this woman later.

“Hey, doc,” rasped Tomura, annoyed. “What the hell have you been doing?”

“Ahem,” said Garaki, finally stepping out from behind the car. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“Because you blew us off and stranded us in the middle of Musutafu?”

“No,” said Garaki, in a way that absolutely meant ‘yes.’ “I knew you were resourceful enough to safely make it out of the city.”

“Oh, yeah? Really? You—”

Compress chose that moment to slam his face into the back of Tomura’s head. Tomura steadied himself automatically on one of the car’s uprights, which cracked dangerously under his hand. He pulled back as if burned.

When he looked up, the gremlin’s mother was halfway to the tree line with – What was that in her hand?

He looked back over his shoulder.

That was Twice’s goddamn mask.

Compress, for some reason, was also missing his stupid mask (and covering his face like the dramatic weirdo he was), and Toga basically had hearts in her eyes. Spinner was being Spinner, and therefore ninety percent useless. He was lucky he was fun to play games with.

How to make her stop?

“Hey!” he shouted. “We have your son!”

This was a lie, as far as he knew (unless Dabi had snatched him on his way back; it wasn’t impossible), but, he was a villain.

The green-haired woman stopped and turned back, allowing Tomura a full view of her expression.

He decided that he regretted everything.

“Okay,” said Izuku, multitasking by letting Two pick the lock on the League’s safe, “considering Gigantomachia’s ability to track by smell and the questionable running water, we can’t just sneak out. He’ll find us. So… I think our best play is getting him to attack Shigaraki, and then when they’re both distracted, we run for it.”

Toshinori nodded and sighed. “If only we had a giant jug of perfume. We could throw it at his face and disrupt his ability to smell us.”

“I mean, I found a whole bunch of garbage a way back. That isn’t perfume, but it does stink.”

“No, no, your plan is superior. We’d draw too much suspicion if we attacked him like that. Perfume could be written off.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Because perfume is a ‘nice’ thing.”

“Indeed.”

“It isn’t actually very nice to have it all over you, though,” said Izuku.

“No,” agreed Toshinori. “It isn’t.”

The safe popped open.

“I won’t ask if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

“But, anyway, assuming we do get away, what then? Where do we go? And—Wow. The League of Villains is broke. I almost feel bad.”

“I was going to say Deika, but that’s too far, now, and we don’t know if Gigantomachia will come after us,” said Toshinori. “Drawing him to a place full of civilians would be irresponsible.”

“Yeah,” said Izuku. He frowned, pulling his head from the safe, and glanced out the window. “What about the Wild Wild Pussycats?”

“What about them?” asked Toshinori.

“They’re near here, aren’t they? And they’ve got that whole complex, so, I mean… I don’t know how they feel about us right now, but it wouldn’t be a terrible place to hide. Would it?”

“I’d hate to bring all of this down on them as well,” said Toshinori. “But… That being said, I don’t believe they’re actually there. They were taking some time off because of what happened to Ragdoll.”

“That makes sense,” said Izuku. “Should we take the risk?”

“I’m unsure if we have a choice, my boy. We could try roughing it, but that puts us in a very vulnerable position.”

“And we can’t stay here, with the League.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Okay.” Izuku sighed and started to thumb through the League’s collection of fake IDs, looking for something he could use. “Wild Wild Pussycats it is. We’ve got to convince Machia to attack Shigaraki, and… then we sneak out the back while they’re fighting.” He shook his head. “It sounds really unheroic when I put it that way.”

“Under these circumstances, I think heroic is the set of actions where no one dies.”

His mentor was right. Izuku still felt weird about this, though. (The pettiness was completely different.)

Not to mention…

He put the last of the fake IDs away and massaged his temples. “They’re doing something weird in there,” he said. “I’m going to check on them. I might be out of it.”

“Don’t worry,” said Toshinori, patting Izuku on the shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on things out here.”

(Perhaps all of this could have gone unsaid, what with their connection, but saying things out loud made them easier to organize.)

“Hey!” shouted Izuku over the roaring wind. “Stop that!”

“Are you going to fight me, Nine? All by yourself?”

“No,” said Izuku, somehow contriving to look down his nose at her despite the height difference and the fact that Tempest was floating several meters in the air. “I won’t have to. Because I have a secret weapon.”

Ochako could almost see Tempest roll her eyes.

“And,” shouted Izuku, “do you seriously think I just wanted to be part of the system? Are you serious? I wanted to help people. People the system failed. It isn’t like they’re responsible for the system either!” He waved his hand to indicate Ochako, Iida, Todoroki, and Aizawa.

“I’d argue about your hobo teacher. Is this your secret weapon?”

“No, this is, Great-Aunt Miranda.”

Tempest opened her mouth, then closed it again. The wind began to die down. “I’m – I don’t know what the point of that was—"

“Neither do I! What’s the point of this?”

“The point is determining whether or not you have people you can rely on, or a bunch of backstabbers who’ll hand you over to a government lab as soon as it’s convenient!” She stabbed a finger at Ochako. “She’s just in ‘heroics’ for the money!” She pointed at Iida. “He’s only here because it’s traditional for his family.” She gestured at Todoroki with her other hand. “He’s doing it mostly out of spite. And who knows what your hobo teacher is doing this for!”

“There’s nothing wrong with any of that!” protested Ochako. “You must have your own motivations, too!”

“She does!” shouted Izuku. “Considering what they are, you have no room to be criticizing Iida! Besides, you don’t even like me!”

“This isn’t about liking you or disliking! You’re the—” Tempest visibly cut herself off, then took a deep breath. She set herself down on the street. “Knowing what we do now about certain things, a fourteen-year-old would not have been my first choice.”

“Excuse me! We’re all sixteen!” said Iida.

“You’re sixteen now, it’s – The fact of the matter is that you’re children. Naïve children.”

“Oh my gosh, you were younger than I was when you—”

“I was kidnapped and tortured—”

“I know, but why are you taking it out on—”

“By the government that you are trying to lick the boot of—”

“Did you see what they did to Suzuki?”

Ochako felt like she was spectating a very passionate tennis match.

“If it means anything,” said Aizawa, dragging himself out of the pile of rubble he’d been thrown into by the wind, “I’m just trying to keep my kids alive as long as possible.”

“Then expel them! Stop them from becoming literal child soldiers!”

“I do,” said Aizawa.

“He does,” confirmed Ochako, who was well acquainted with Aizawa’s reputation.

“He really does,” seconded Todoroki.

“I used to see Tensei’s group chat, and every time he expelled someone…” Iida shivered.

“Huh,” said Todoroki. “Is that why you’re so… insistent about rules?”

“Of course not! Rules are important regardless of why so many students were expelled during the first month of school!”

“So, why didn’t you expel these ones?”

“If you honestly believe the problem child wouldn’t have flung himself at the first villain he saw after that and dove straight into vigilantism, you don’t know him very well.” He sighed, standing, and brushed dust and pebbles out of his tracksuit. “That goes for these three as well. They’re insane and it’s not my fault.”

“Isn’t saving others what heroes do?” asked Izuku, walking closer to Tempest. Ochako wanted to run out and grab him, but this whole ordeal had just shown how useless that would be. “No matter what?”

“Not no matter what. This is why I…” She shook her head, sighing. “Not no matter what.” She leaned forward, her hands on her hips. “Don’t die. You do realize what will happen if you die, right? I don’t have to spell it out for you?”

“N-no,” said Izuku.

“Besides which, I’m not a hero.”

“You saved people,” protested Izuku.

“And, as your friends pointed out, I’ve killed, too.”

“I know,” said Izuku. “But you aren’t a bad person.”

“Lots of people kill during wars,” said Ochako, going to stand by Izuku, “and that’s what you were fighting in, wasn’t it? I mean, I don’t know a lot about that time, but…”

“You wouldn’t. It’s been over a hundred years.”

Izuku nodded. “This fight isn’t doing anything, though. None of us want them here if the vault opens.”

“The what?” asked Iida. “The vault.”

“Hopefully,” said Izuku, “you won’t have to worry about it.”

“The fight did do something, though,” said Tempest.

“What?” asked Izuku.

“For one,” said Tempest, “it made you think. For the other…” Her eyes flicked over Ochako and the others. “Everyone you fight will have their own reasons. Remember that.”

As they walked down the street, storms still brewing overhead, Ochako kept catching glimpses of children in the alleyways and cross streets.

“Who are they?” she asked, unable to help herself.

“My sister and I,” answered Tempest, brusquely. Ochako, watching the back of the woman’s head, saw her twitch slightly towards one of the alleys. “About the time we were taken.”

“Taken by who?” asked Todoroki.

Tempest laughed. The sound was entirely humorless. “That government you’re so eager to serve. You’ve noticed, I hope, that my sister and I aren’t completely Japanese?”

“Yes?” said Todoroki. “I’m not blind, after all.”

“Todoroki,” said Aizawa in a warning tone.

“Good for you. Our mother was Japanese. Dad was American. We went back and forth to see the family. Problem was, everyone on Mom’s side quirks. We didn’t even realize it. The government tracked the weather disturbances to our movements and raided our family reunion. Never saw my parents again. Never saw anyone, for that matter, except my sister and my aunt – Dad’s side – who tried to smuggle us out and got shot for it. We spent four years in that hell before Ryuji rescued us.”

“You’re more open about this than I would have expected,” said Aizawa.

Tempest sneered. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m a terrorist, and people only become terrorists if they want to make a statement. Which I did. Trust me when I say this, Nine, if the hero commission took you into ‘custody,’” she spat the word like it was dirty, “you’d be in the same boat. What do you children think they do to all those high-profile criminals in Tartarus? The ones that are held indefinitely in a private prison without even a show trial?”

“I know, Three,” said Izuku, far more calmly that Ochako would have been able to. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to be a hero. It’s easier to change systems from the inside.”

“Not this system.”

“No,” said Izuku, “but then I had no idea this part of the system even existed. They do a lot to hide it, after all.”

“Hm,” grunted Tempest, skeptically.

The buildings began to thin out, interspersed with wilderness. The road rapidly graded narrowed into a one-lane road, then gravel.

“Is this normal?” asked Ochako.

“We have more control over our environments than the other ones. You’ve noticed that only Eight and Nine had multiple versions of themselves running around and being confusing.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose,” said Izuku.

“Exactly. Any of us could send an army of ourselves against you. Only those two don’t have a choice about it. Amateurs.”

“Shouldn’t they have had the same amount of time as—” started Ochako. She broke off as a series of concrete walls topped with barbed wire rose up in front of them, scraping at the surrounding trees, shedding clumps of dirt.

The trees fell away, leaving a clear, baren space between the walls and the trees. Slightly beyond the structure moonlight glinted off the surface of a lake.

“Well. Welcome to Jinoshi Lake Camp, kids.” Tempest turned, putting her hands on her hips. “This is where I met Ryuji. And…” She glanced up at the walls. “This is as far as I go.”

“You aren’t going to show us where to find this ‘Ryuji?’” asked Aizawa.

“I promised myself I’d never go back there.” She jerked her head over her shoulder. “I’m not revisiting it for you.” She started walking away. “Have fun.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fic #my fic #long night in the valley

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rosethornewrites · 3 years

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Fic: I look up and see the bright moon

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Sòng Lán | Sòng Zǐchēn/Xiǎo Xīngchén

Characters: Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji, Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian, Lan Yuan | Lan Sizhui, Song Lan | Song Zichen, Xiao Xingchen, A-Qing, Granny Wen, Wen Qing

Additional Tags: Found Family, Modern AU, Corporate Espionage, Bunnies, Adoption, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, References to Depression, Anxiety, Blind Character, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

Summary: The Wei family has struggled, but that is in the past, and it is time to welcome a new family member.

Notes: Written for @sweetlittlevampire as part of the WangXian Lunar New Year Gift Exchange. This is also partly inspired by @angstymdzsthoughts, which has been chattering about a corporate espionage AU for a few weeks now. In the fic's base-time, that's occurred largely in the past and is background that led to the acquisition of their found family. The title is from the Li Bai poem, "Thoughts on a Silent Night." Li Bai was exiled and wrote poetry reminiscing about family and friends from whom he was separated.

AO3 link

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When A-Yuan, with the kind of pleading adorable face only a five year old could muster, asked if they could adopt a pet bunny, and Wei Ying, knowing rabbits were his husband’s favorite animal, watched him hide his yearning to talk to their son about responsibility and finances like he was a little adult—and he suspected A-Zhan had gotten this very same talk as a child—he decided they needed to find a way to make it happen.

“We should adopt one,” he said, interrupting them.

Both of them turned to look at him, their expressions tinged with hope. A-Zhan’s made Wei Ying a little sad—they had never discussed pets, and perhaps he felt he couldn’t ask.

“A-Yuan is smart, and caring for a pet would help him develop a sense of responsibility,” Wei Ying argued. “We’ll need to research how much they cost and what they need and all that, but we’re doing well financially.”

There was a soft look on his husband’s face at the thought of having a rabbit. Anything that made A-Zhan look that soft belonged in their lives.

“It’d be a nice addition to the family. I’ve always wanted a pet, too.”

The last bit, he could see, convinced A-Zhan. Sometimes his husband would go without to avoid seeming selfish—sometimes didn’t even realize he wanted it—but if Wei Ying wanted something, he would insist he have it.

Wei Ying had found saying he wanted something A-Zhan did allowed his husband to indulge in what he had spent far too long denying himself.

“We will do research,” A-Zhan agreed.

“So, bunny?” A-Yuan asked.

“Bunny,” Wei Ying said.

A-Zhan nodded.

“After research.”

A-Yuan cheered, then insisted they all hop around the living room like bunnies.

He was somehow even more excited when A-Zhan told him they would learn all about bunnies through research. The kid was absolutely their son.

If there was one thing Wei Ying was good at, it was research—perhaps only second to his husband, who was almost obsessive about research. It made them a good team, and had enabled them to survive the last few years without having to dip too much into A-Zhan’s inheritance. Nothing could stand against them when they both researched how to solve a problem, but that hadn’t made the problems they’d faced over the last five years easy to deal with.

They tried not to obsess too much over the negatives: the corporate espionage accusation and Wei Ying’s subsequent blacklisting by the industry and disowning by the Jiangs. The threat of legal action that could have seen him in prison for a decade, if not more. Lan Qiren’s pressure on his nephew to break up with him, ending in an ultimatum.

It hadn’t mattered that he didn’t do it—the information-siphoning code may have originated from his workstation, but it had been done on a dummy user profile. Literally anyone could have done it, could have easily jimmied the lock to his office. He’d been set up. But that truth hadn’t mattered to the Lan corporate board or to Madam Yu.

Lan Qiren and Madam Yu had always hated him, anyway.

Uncle Jiang had never returned his calls or texts. That hurt far more.

Ugly accusations followed that he’d been dating A-Zhan just to rise in the company or gain corporate secrets—never mind he decided to work for Gusu Lan Tech right out of college to avoid the idea of nepotism working for Compu-Jiang would bring, that A-Zhan and he kept their work out of their relationship. Then rumors he had to be spying for Compu-Jiang, which had led to his disowning. Wei Ying ultimately changed his phone number and shut down all social media to avoid the journalists plaguing him and awful messages from people he had thought were his peers.

But there were positives. A-Zhan had believed him even if no one else did, and when the pressure had become an ultimatum, he had responded in the opposite of the way his uncle had intended: he’d liquidated his shares in the company, packed anything he couldn’t live without from the family home, and left Gusu Lan Tech with a politely-worded but clear resignation letter.

He had shown up while Wei Ying was packing in a panic to downsize his apartment (or something that would save money now that he no longer had a career, like maybe living in his car) and proposed to him.

Wei Ying hadn’t expected that, had expected to be dumped when he’d opened the door to find him on his doorstep, just one more awful thing to cap off a terrible week. He’d wound up crying for an entirely different reason, curled in A-Zhan’s arms murmuring “yes” over and over again between sobs.

Only Wei Ying’s adopted sister had attended their small wedding out of both of their families, and though she expressed regrets that Jiang Cheng couldn’t make it, the text messages he’d received made it clear his adopted brother would need time, if he ever came around at all. He hadn’t so far.

A-Zhan had changed his legal surname to Wei, which made it necessary for Wei Ying to change how he addressed his husband. Ultimately they decided to use 阿 in front of each other’s names. The first time A-Zhan called him A-Ying, he’d felt like his brain shut down for a bit, it felt so intimate—to be fair, it had been in the midst of some rather passionate celebration of their marriage.

The statement A-Zhan’s actions made in the industry had echoed far and wide, not always in a good way. He became a figure too controversial to touch, particularly for any company that wished to have good relations with Gusu Lan Tech or Compu-Jiang. Work options dried up for him, too. He also closed his social media accounts after dealing with abuse through them.

Their “honeymoon” involved finding a cheap studio apartment and applying to minimum wage jobs.

Gusu Lan Tech had decided not to pursue criminal charges. Or rather, Lan Xichen had, as chairman of the board, refused to pursue them, overriding the board’s bloodlust. He had contacted A-Zhan to congratulate him on the marriage, and stated it was a wedding gift to them. He had not reached out or responded to messages from his brother since, and A-Zhan had eventually stopped texting or calling him.

The next couple years had taught them to live frugally in a trial-by-fire sort of way, both of them struggling to find work, both of them battling depression over the situation that had destroyed their careers. Wei Ying’s feelings of guilt had exacerbated his, his sense things would be better for his husband if he’d let him go—that perhaps he could still let him go and get back what he lost. Miscommunication had nearly destroyed them both, but they had persevered and grown stronger together.

To survive, they’d left the San Francisco area, living expenses too high and with no family ties to keep them anymore. They’d worked jobs as baristas, stocking shelves at grocery stores, substitute teaching, waiting tables—so far from the financial career A-Zhan had gotten his degree to help with the family business, from the computer science that had been Wei Ying’s passion. Anything that put food on the table and paid rent, that kept them from dipping into A-Zhan’s inheritance or the proceeds of his stock sale.

They’d had to dip in a couple of times for emergencies, like when Wei Ying broke his wrist badly enough to require surgery. But as a matter of principle they tried not to.

Then Wen Qing had reached out, seemingly out of the blue. It had been years since either of them had seen her—not since college. Suddenly they were helping Wen Ning with independent app development in his Dafan Applications start-up, and living and working in an apartment building owned by a Wen family member who refused to let them pay rent and insisted they call him Fourth Uncle. Free rent was nothing to sneeze at in California.

Wei Ying had worried their involvement would cause problems, with them both being low-key blacklisted from the industry, but Wen Qing had pointed out both Compu-Jiang and Gusu Lan Tech dealt in computer hardware more than software or applications.

“A-Ning wouldn’t want to do business with anyone who believes that bullshit, anyway,” she’d said bluntly.

Now, several years later, the company was making a name for itself, and it turned out the software and app industry cared less about the allegations and more about product quality and deadlines—both things Dafan Applications had proven it made good on. Wen Ning and Wen Qing insisted they had much to do with it, with Wei Ying’s coding skills and A-Zhan handling the financial aspects of the company with the same careful frugality he applied still to their own spending.

Really, they were too generous. Dafan Applications had picked up several great coders when Nie Innovations had suffered a bad year and required restructuring, letting go of part of its workforce. Wei Ying hated that they had benefitted from the ill fortune of old friends, but the industry could be cutthroat, and at least the people Dafan employed could still feed their families.

Wen Ning had even started to develop a video game on the side with their help. A-Zhan was able to rediscover his passion for music, tapped to develop a soundtrack for it. It was a back burner project, but it was Wen Ning’s baby, and watching it slowly grow was another bright point in their lives.

They had been essentially adopted by the entire Dafan Wen family. Their found family had kept them going and checked in on them during the bad times. Like when Jiang Yanli wed and was unable to invite them—she had made Jin Zixuan stream the wedding so he could at least watch, but that was all she could do. Fourth Uncle brought champagne and they turned it into a viewing party so Wei Ying would feel less alone. When she had his nephew, who he was not allowed to meet. When they learned Lan Xichen was engaged via a news report. And later when Jiang Fengmian had suffered a mild heart attack and handed the reins of Compu-Jiang to Jiang Cheng, also learned via the news.

During the harder times, when they both sometimes found it difficult to function, Granny and some of the aunties brought lunches and dinners and A-Yuan to cheer them up, and Fourth Uncle came for mahjong and brought drinks, and Wen Qing harassed them into going out and getting fresh air and sunlight.

“Humans are big dumb plants,” she’d said. “And while we’re at it, drink more water.”

So they had started taking A-Yuan to the park every other day, then every day, sometimes even picnicking in the park for lunch. Working from home had perks.

Pretty quickly it was clear the activity did them some good, with Wei Ying having fewer rough mental health days. Though having something to look forward to every day probably helped on its own—it was always good to spend time with A-Yuan.

Granny eventually asked them to adopt A-Yuan because she was struggling to care for him alone. Since they had been helping with his care anyway, she felt they were ideal parents.

“He talks about you all the time,” she had told them. “He adores you.”

The paperwork was relatively easy, given that the adoption was mutually agreed upon. Going before the judge had been mildly terrifying, with Wei Ying worried his past would bite them in the ass. But it turned out to be little more than a formality, and then Wei Yuan was theirs.

Initially they had intended for him to keep his surname, but Wen Qing had insisted.

“He’s yours. Your son. He should have his dads’ name.”

One of the more joyous moments had been when A-Yuan had asked, about a month after the adoption papers went through, if he could call A-Zhan baba and Wei Ying a-die. He had previously been calling them both gege, but they hadn’t wanted to pressure him.

“Of course,” Wei Ying told him, abruptly realizing Wen Qing’s point.

“You’re our son,” A-Zhan added.

All of the difficulties of the past several years felt as though they had melted away in that moment, when A-Yuan smiled at them with his adorable chubby cheeks and called them a-die and baba.

If all the hardship had been a trade for that moment, it was worth it.

They were always made to feel welcome, never left to feel alone, and when they had become the adopted parents of A-Yuan, it made their status as family feel more official.

And now they would be adopting a bunny.

“It’s a bunny,” Wei Ying initially said. “How hard could it be to find a good bunny? Just throw it some carrots, and it’ll be fine!”

“Carrots do not have the nutritional value a rabbit needs, A-Ying.”

“What about Bugs Bunny?”

A-Zhan gave him a Look and texted him an article about child-friendly breeds that make good pets, and Wei Ying’s education began.

He learned, first off, that carrots were too high in sugar for rabbits, and the Bugs Bunny carrot thing had been a reference to a 1930s Clark Gable movie, which of course no one understood anymore.

(Wei Ying was further distracted by other facts about Bugs: the cartoon had single-handedly made the name Nimrod, the biblical hunter, into a synonym for idiot when the sarcastic comparison to Elmer Fudd flew over audiences’ heads, for instance. He also got lost on YouTube watching old clips.)

As it turned out, rabbits came in different sizes, some even almost the size of a border collie—and much preferable to a dog, in Wei Ying’s opinion. Giant Angora rabbits looked like little clouds, they were so floofy. But even though the Flemish giants and Angoras were perhaps his favorite breeds, they didn’t have the space for a rabbit so large. Even a medium sized breed would be pushing it. It wouldn’t be fair to the rabbit.

And so they looked into small breeds, seeking information on care and disposition, cooing with A-Yuan over bunny pictures for hours sometimes. Wei Ying could expect at least one text from his husband a day with a relevant link, and often returned the favor. They found a nearby rabbit-specific veterinarian, and she let them know what they would need in terms of desexing to prevent diseases, vaccinations, and maintenance needs.

Although A-Yuan was only five, they consulted him as well. They explained how bunnies needed to be cared for and needed exercise, and talked about the different kinds of bunnies and breed temperament. A-Zhan explained bunnies had shorter life spans than people, and so the bunny would live its whole life with them.

“It’ll die,” A-Yuan said, immediately understanding. “Like mama and baba before.”

Wei Ying nodded; he too was an orphan, as was A-Zhan. In some ways, that made the conversation easier. It was strange to put it that way, but he and A-Zhan could relate to A-Yuan’s experiences, and so he felt comfortable coming to them when he was upset.

“But we’ll do a good job taking care of the bunny so it lives comfortably and is happy.”

A-Yuan nodded, his expression serious.

“Granny said everything dies. I understand, a-die, baba.”

As a family they settled on the Holland Lop, which was an absolutely adorable breed, docile in nature and good with children. They managed to find a reputable breeder that handled small litters and didn’t overbreed, with the decision down to finding their rabbit.

The breeder emailed them when he had a litter born, and told them they’d get first pick in seven weeks.

That kicked them into overdrive, and they spent the time preparing the apartment, buying anything a young rabbit might want or need. A deluxe hutch, which they tricked out with a hammock, shelves and tiers, a woven cave for the bottom level, and dangly toys. Bedding. Water bottles and a feeder. Food. A litter box with bunny-appropriate litter. A larger collapsible enclosure for outside time. Pet gates for rooms off limits (like the study with wires bunnies might like to nibble). Willow pet chews. Tunnels. Toys, so many toys. Everything was made with natural materials—nothing plastic, A-Zhan insisted. And then there was bunny-proofing the apartment.

It was a bit like adopting A-Yuan all over again, except they had both known him and knew what to expect. In a way, this was scarier.

But things were steady and stable, finally, after nearly five years of struggling, and today it was finally time to adopt the newest member of their family.

On the way over, A-Zhan quizzed A-Yuan on bunny etiquette, somehow, Wei Ying joked, taking the fun out of bunny adoption.

They both ignored him, well used to doing so by now.

“Don’t move fast so you don’t scare them,” A-Yuan chirped in answer to the last question as they pulled into the breeder’s driveway.

“And no loud noises,” A-Zhan added. “So your a-die and I will silence our phones now.”

His husband was pointedly not looking at him, but he knew “loud noises” was meant for him. It was almost a running joke in the family, including the Wens, that Wei Ying couldn’t shut up.

Wei Ying didn’t bother to even roll his eyes, just fished his phone from his pocket to silence it while A-Zhan put the car—borrowed from Wen Qing for the afternoon, since car ownership was a luxury neither of them needed, working from home as they did—in park. He noticed a “breaking news” alert that had been emailed to him, but ignored it.

He looked up to find his husband frowning at his phone—it was just like him to check it even though it was almost always on silent.

“Okay, A-Zhan?”

“My brother called,” he replied after a few seconds.

Wei Ying sat up straighter, noticing the slightly troubled lilt of his tone. Lan Xichen had never reached out in the five years they’d been married.

“Did he leave a voicemail?”

A-Zhan shook his head. Most people wouldn’t notice, but he looked distinctly vulnerable. Wei Ying bit his lip. He was of the opinion that his husband’s brother had made him wait for five years for contact and could wait a bit in return.

But that was a little petty.

“Do… Do you want to call him back?”

There was a longer pause before A-Zhan shook his head resolutely.

“No. Today is for family.”

He put his phone back in his pocket and opened the car door, and Wei Ying paused to glance back at A-Yuan. Their son was often perceptive, and this was no exception.

“Bunnies?” he asked solemnly, his expression that of a child who knew plans could change with bad phone calls.

“Bunnies,” Wei Ying told him, smiling.

He was relieved when the boy smiled back; A-Yuan understood adults sometimes pretended things were okay when they weren’t, but he trusted them.

And, for the moment, they were. That could change, but A-Zhan was right: today was for family.

Apparently that didn’t count his brother anymore, but the bitterness he knew his husband felt could be handled later. After all, he felt his own; Jiang Cheng similarly hadn’t reached out in even longer, once he’d finished railing at Wei Ying via text.

He didn’t know how he’d react if his once-brother suddenly called him. If he hadn’t called when Jiang Fengmian had a heart attack, it was unlikely he ever would.

But for Lan Xichen to call…

The paranoid part of him wondered if A-Zhan’s brother had changed his mind, or if the board had somehow overruled him and he was to be charged after all. He wasn’t sure what the statute of limitations was for the crime they believed he’d committed, but...

Wei Ying only realized he’d spaced out when A-Zhan opened A-Yuan’s door to help him from his car seat. His husband’s questioning look had him pasting on a smile and hurrying to get out of the car.

A-Zhan steadied him when he nearly lost his balance and leaned in close.

“The statute of limitations was three years, A-Ying. It will be fine.”

He sagged in relief, leaning his forehead against A-Zhan’s shoulder briefly. His husband saw right through him, knew what thoughts were making him spiral. He took A-Zhan’s hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

A-Zhan’s lips twitched.

“Between us, there is no need.”

Wei Ying held out his other hand to A-Yuan, who took it with a sweet smile, and together they headed toward the front porch.

The door opened before they could knock, a man about their age surveying them with a bespectacled little girl maybe a little older than A-Yuan peering around his leg. She had the palest eyes he’d ever seen.

“We’re here about the rabbits,” Wei Ying said, offering a smile.

The man offered a small one in return.

“You’re looking for my husband, then. You must be the Wei family he mentioned. Please come in.”

They took their shoes off inside the foyer.

The man introduced himself as Song Lan, and Wei Ying briefly wondered if he had Americanized his name, which was his surname and which was his given.

“This is A-Qing,” Song Lan said, introducing the girl.

A-Yuan offered her a shy smile and received one in return.

He led them through the house into what he called “the bunny room.” He wasn’t kidding. The room was bunny paradise, with a home-made run built using shelves on the walls, multiple hutches, a feeding and eating area, an area of litter boxes, and a prodigious number of toys.

A man in sunglasses was sedately petting one of the bunnies in the midst of it all.

“The Wei family?” he asked, putting down the rabbit and standing to greet them.

“Yeah, baba,” A-Qing answered. “They’re husbands like you and die, and they have a kid, too.”

He held out his hand to shake, and Wei Ying took it first, then A-Zhan. Even A-Yuan reached up and gave a little handshake. The man laughed softly at that. He realized belatedly he should probably introduce them.

“I’m Wei Ying, my husband is Wei Zhan, and then there’s A-Yuan, our son.”

The man nodded and smiled.

“I’m Xiao Xingchen, or as you know me online, SongXiao. My husband helps with that part.”

“And me!” A-Qing added.

“Ah, I can’t forget my tech support, A-Qing and A-Yang. You’ve met our daughter.”

“A-Yang is my brother and he’s a brat but he’s not home right now,” A-Qing said.

“And, of course, there are the bunnies,” Song Lan added.

They sat on the floor with Xiao Xingchen as he gestured for them to do, while Song Lan and A-Qing opened one of the hutches. That was all they really needed to do, as the bunnies made their way to freedom quickly. They were tiny, and if the guides Wei Ying had read were right, would likely only grow to be 3-4 pounds.

One of the black bunnies immediately began hopping around the room at high speed when it was free, jumping around as though in joy.

“That one’s like you, a-die,” A-Yuan commented, and Wei Ying laughed.

A-Qing reached in for a few stragglers and then joined them on the floor, putting one in A-Yuan’s lap as she sat down. Song Lan came with the mother rabbit, whose coat was fully black.

“Fuxue had a litter of six this time around,” Song Lan told them. “Three of each sex.”

There was one brown, two black, and three of different shades of gray.

“They all have gentle dispositions,” Xiao Xingchen added. “Though one of the females is quite energetic, as you noticed.”

A-Yuan pet the one in his lap, a light gray one Song Lan told them was a lilac color. A-Qing put the other light gray one in Wei Ying’s lap, and he couldn’t stop himself from cooing softly at it as his fingers met its soft fur.

“Since we bred her with a lilac, we also have the one blue and the chocolate. Lilac is the light gray, blue is the darker,” Song Lan explained.

The blue was hopping around after the energetic black bunny, at a slower pace. The chocolate kit was approaching A-Zhan with hesitant curiosity. The less energetic black one hopped up to Xiao Xingchen, clearly looking for his familiarity, and hopped into his lap.

He picked it up gently.

“Who doesn’t have a bunny yet?” he asked.

The chocolate was next to A-Zhan’s leg, nosing at the hand he held out. When he pet it, the kit closed its eyes, flopped over, and exposed its belly. When he gently picked it up, it offered no resistance.

“I think it likes you, A-Zhan,” Wei Ying joked. “We all have bunnies. A-Yuan and I have the lilacs, and the chocolate has fallen in love with my husband.”

“He loves to be pet,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Especially if you rub gently right between his ears.”

“The black and lilac are one boy, one girl each. The blue is female,” Song Lan added.

Xiao Xingchen discussed what to expect in terms of personality and needed care, along with specifics about the breed. Most of the details were ones Wei Ying had read online, but some were based on experience with rabbits.

They passed around the four they were holding so they could each meet them, and eventually the blue was curious enough to wander over. But the energetic black needed to be caught by A-Qing.

“She’s really sassy,” A-Qing told them.

“Definitely a big personality,” Xiao Xingchen agreed.

The chatting about bunnies gave way to other chatter—Xiao Xingchen revealed he had lost his eyesight during an illness that had infected the optic nerve, and they had adopted A-Qing because her ocular albinism meant she also had difficulty seeing. Since they had already adapted to his blindness and the agency had labeled her unadoptable, they took her in.

“Honestly, I grew up partly in the system,” he said. “I couldn’t leave her.”

“I did, too,” Wei Ying admitted.

“I inherited this home from my adoptive mother, Baoshan Sanren.”

Wei Ying gasped, and he could feel A-Zhan looking at him in concern.

“She was my mother’s mom,” he said, not able to stop himself from staring. “Cangse Sanren. She and Dad died when I was four.”

“Goodness, what a small world! She had already left for college when I was adopted, so I didn’t get to know her well. I guess that would make me your jiujiu?”

Wei Ying grinned, poking A-Yuan gently.

“A-Yuan, that means Xiao Xingchen is your jiuye, and A-Qing is your tangjie.”

A-Qing looked thrilled.

“I get a cousin? Score!”

Wei Ying could only guess she didn’t have much extended family, and he was glad to add to their found family. A-Yuan had many Wen uncles and aunts and cousins, but he was just as excited. The kids huddled together to talk.

“Definitely a small world,” A-Zhan said.

“Smaller still,” Song Lan said. “I freelance now, but I used to work in the tech industry, so I recognize your names.”

Wei Ying focused on the rabbit in his lap, the chocolate who was sprawled out and nuzzling against his hand, feeling taut and anxious.

“It obviously wasn’t you,” he continued quickly. “But I decided not to work with the major companies after seeing what they would do to their own.”

“They didn’t see me as their own,” Wei Ying said, shaking his head, hating the feeling rising in his chest.

Silence fell among them, interrupted by the kids chattering nearby. It was clear Xiao Xingchen didn’t know what they were talking about, but Song Lan could explain later.

“A-Ying found his family,” A-Zhan said after a moment. “As did I.”

“I would be honored to be a part of it,” Xiao Xingchen said. “It is good to finally meet my waisheng.”

The discomfort passed, Xiao Xingchen filling the silence with stories of his adoptive mother, the stories he knew of Wei Ying’s mother, the tales soothing his anxiety. The bunny in his lap helped, it’s warmth and nuzzling relaxing.

Eventually Xiao Xingchen asked the big question.

“Which of the bunnies appealed to you?”

Wei Ying and A-Zhan exchanged a glance before they turned to A-Yuan.

“The brown one,” A-Yuan said immediately. “He cuddles.”

The same one Wei Ying was fond of, currently in his lap. A-Zhan nodded his agreement.

“He’s on my lap nuzzling me now,” Wei Ying said.

“Any ideas on names yet?” Song Lan asked.

“Turmeric or Nutmeg,” A-Yuan supplied. “They’re warm, like him.”

“Not Cinnamon?” Wei Ying asked teasingly.

“No. I bet everyone names brown rabbits Cinnamon.”

Xiao Xingchen laughed.

“Well, you’ll probably figure out what spice is most like him as you get to know him better.”

They packed up the bunny, A-Qing taking him around to say goodbye to each of his siblings and mother. Xiao Xingchen insisted on giving them the friends and family discount, and they exchanged numbers so they could find more time to get to know each other.

The drive home was quiet, punctuated with chatter by A-Yuan about A-Qing and Turmeric or Nutmeg.

The bunny took to his new home well, seemingly happy with the space and toys and food, and they watched him and played with him for hours until he eventually entered the hutch and climbed into the hammock.

A-Yuan was yawning and dinner hadn’t been made, so A-Zhan ordered pizza, something they rarely did, which made it a treat. While they ate, A-Yuan told them solemnly the bunny’s name was Turmeric. Wei Ying asked if his middle name was Nutmeg, and A-Yuan smiled widely and nodded, and thus Turmeric Nutmeg Wei became their newest family member.

By the time A-Yuan was fed and bathed and tucked in, he was ready to fall right to sleep, and Wei Ying was able to snuggle on the sofa with A-Zhan with a little time left before bed.

“You found more family,” A-Zhan said, smiling softly, lacing their hands together.

“We found more family,” Wei Ying corrected. “What’s mine is yours, xinai.”

He scooted closer to A-Zhan until he was almost in his lap. The events of earlier were on his mind, the mysterious phone call, what it might mean. He knew his husband was concerned. Even if the silence between them was comfortable, he worried about A-Zhan.

“Did you want to call your brother?” he asked.

A-Zhan shook his head, then leaned in for a kiss.

“No. Today is for family. I want to take you to bed.”

Even after five years, when A-Zhan said things like that Wei Ying melted.

When A-Zhan pulled him up and tugged him toward their bedroom, he hindered him a little with kisses, but they eventually made it.

In the morning they would learn Wei Ying had been proven innocent; the culprit was actually Lan Xichen’s fiance, Meng Yao. His scion Su She took the opportunity to frame Wei Ying out of jealousy, wanting A-Zhan for himself.

The bad year at Nie Industries was caused by the very same code, undiscovered until a large number shares were suddenly liquidated and stocks plummeted, until millions of dollars were syphoned from corporate accounts and disappeared. Nie Huaisang had put the pieces together, had worked with the FBI and proved it was Meng Yao working on behalf of Jin Enterprises at the behest of his father.

Later, Gusu Lan Tech would ask A-Zhan to return home to chair the board after a vote of no confidence in Lan Xichen, and he would tell them no. He was part of Dafan Applications now, he had a home, and he was happy where he was.

Later, the Wei family might consider responding to overtures from the families they once had.

Tonight they didn’t have that knowledge.

Tonight was for family, and right then was for A-Zhan and Wei Ying, with no room for anything outside of their home.

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plasticnightmaredoll · 3 years

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Ok, so I had to do this after reading @justasimplesinner ‘s absolutely adorable and precious h/cs for Arkham Knight Riddler meeting his s/o’s family for the first time. I mean, AK!Eddie being happy? Having some sort of family? It hits me right in the feels 😭

But I was inspired to write something similar for Telltale Riddler and his s/o but with a twist. I mean, it’s already going to be quite different considering how Telltale Riddler is, but I’m taking things a little further and getting a bit personal. Since I self-ship with him, I figured, why not turn these h/cs into self-insert ones?

Basically, Telltale Riddler meeting my family for the first time on Christmas.

The h/cs will reflect what the reality of my family is like but I won’t get, like, too personal. Y’all don’t need to know everything.

Pre-headcanons warnings to be fair:

There is a little but of smut at the end. Nothing explicit but it’s a little bit spicy.

These are self-insert headcanons, not reader-insert ones

This is an age-gap pairing since I’m 33 years old and Telltale Riddler is 60 years old.

Anyway, let’s head on into these h/cs for Telltale Riddler meeting my folks for the first time (and that seems awkward as hell to write but hey, I’m fictosexual so....🤷‍♀️)

There is a little bit of smut at the end. Nothing explicit but it’s definitely a little spicy.

It’s the first Christmas spent with Eddie since becoming a couple, and it’s also kind of an awkward time because family, you know? And, well, my parents don’t know I’m dating anyone...let alone THE Riddler.

It’s going to be a challenge getting them to accept me dating someone nearly twice my age (I’m 33 and Edward’s 60, but damn, did he age like fine wine or what?) But revealing that it’s the goddamn Riddler?

So, yeah, I’m freaking out but I also realize that I have to tell them eventually because it’s only fair, for one, and keeping it a secret for a long time would just make things worse if -- or more realistically, when -- my parents found out on their own.

Plus, I’m not ashamed or afraid to date Edward. He treats me much differently than he treats most other people, and I want my parents to know that, yeah, he’s Riddler, a criminal mastermind but honestly, he treats me better than any guy has and I’m actually happy.

Edward isn’t nervous but he’s concerned because he doesn’t want to complicate things between my parents and me, doesn’t want to bring unnecessary drama and angst into my life. He can handle people disliking him -- hating him -- but he doesn’t want the only person he’s ever truly cared for to have a damaged relationship with her family because of him.

But we discuss it and decide it’s better to just go ahead and do it. Rip off the band aid and get the pain out of the way as fast as possible, so to speak. Whatever happens, happens, and hopefully it’s nothing (too) upsetting.

I call my parents and tell them I’m coming to visit for Christmas, and I reveal -- while my hands are shaking and my heart is pounding from the anxiety consuming me -- that I want to bring my boyfriend.

Oh, I have a boyfriend? For how long? How did we meet? What’s he like? What’s his name? Why the wait to tell them about him?

I know it wouldn’t go over well to just show up at my parents home hanging off of the goddamn Riddler’s arm, like, “Oh, hey, my boyfriend is a criminal genius, don’t ya know?”

So, I approach telling them over the phone the truth slowly, cautiously. I say his name is Edward and we met kind of by accident and we’ve been dating for a good portion of the year. It’s my first Christmas with him, actually.

Wait, it’s been that long and I never told my them?! What the hell?!

Needless to say, they are baffled and also concerned about this news.

I explain the awkward but less, uh, shocking news that he is an older man, and I was worried they’d be upset about that. They ask how old Edward is and I hesitate, wondering if I should lie and say he’s, like, in his early 50s because he could easily pass for that age. Hell, even I thought he was in his early 50s (or even very late 40s) when I first met him.

However, honesty is the best policy, and this is not even the “bad” news yet.

I say that he just turned 60 years old this year in a calm, cool, casual tone, like I’m talking about the weather and not revealing to my parents that I’m dating a guy who is my dad’s age.

There is silence and I internally panic because if they’re angered or appalled by this, they’re not going to handle finding out who Edward is well at all.

They are surprised, a little worried for my wellbeing because they think Edward’s some perverted Sugar Daddy to me. They don’t say it like that but it’s heavily implied.

I explain that’s not the case at all, that he’s actually very sweet towards me.

My folks decide to go along with this bit of news because hey, I’m 33 years old. I’m an adult. I can date an older man if I want.

Then comes the “fun” part, which is revealing to them what Edward does for a living.

I laugh nervously, and Edward, who has been patiently sitting beside me on the couch, realizes what I’m about to tell my parents. He watches me closely, hoping this doesn’t turn into a disaster for my sake.

“Yeah, so, Edward, yeah...Edward is...well, he’s, um...Well, he’s, he’s a genius. Like a tech genius, great with electrical engineering, computers. And uh, his job, his profession, his, um, career? Yeah, that’s...well, he’s...”

I take a deep breath and prepare for the worst.

“He’s The Riddler, one of Gotham’s...elite....masterminds.”

The silence on the other end of the phone is so terrifying that I feel like I’m going to faint from how anxious I am. Edward places a hand on my knee as a means of comfort, still wanting to give me some space to breathe and calm down.

My parents aren’t...thrilled, to say the least. I’m dating a fucking criminal mastermind?! I’m dating RIDDLER? THE RIDDLER? What the goddamn fresh hell is this?!

I start crying because I’m so stressed about this, and Edward moves closer so he can put his arm around me. He feels bad, he really does, and it shows in his troubled expression, but there’s not much he can do. It’s not like we can take this back and say, “Oh, hey, just kidding!” No, this was the truth and now we were dealing with the consequences.

I manage to get my parents to calm down long enough so I can get a word in. I get up off the couch and walk to another room to speak to them alone.

I tell them I know it’s not the most pleasant news to hear, and I know it seems awful, but it’s the first time I have been with a man and he’s treated me well. Like, really well. It’s not just the nice gifts or expensive dinners. Edward does genuinely care about me. I don’t feel like a “booty call,” he doesn’t ignore me, he doesn’t threaten me, he’s never abused me and never will. He’s not the same person with me as he is with some other people. I wouldn’t be dating him otherwise.

It takes some more convincing, but once I get it through to my parents that yes, I’m actually happy and yes, I’m safe and yes, Edward is a very doting boyfriend, they decide to meet him at Christmas. I know they will still have concerns and may be a bit cold to Edward at first, but I hope they would see what I see.

The day arrives and I’m a nervous wreck. Edward is worried for me. He assures me that everything will be ok, and I want to believe but I’m still scared.

Deep down, he thinks maybe dating me is a bad idea -- not because he doesn’t love me but because he feels like he could damage my relationship with my parents. However, he doesn’t bring this up as he doesn’t want me to be even more upset than I already am.

Edward had brought with him some gifts for my parents and my grandma (she was staying with them, too). He brought the most most beautiful bouquet of flowers and a necklace for my grandma, a very lovely diamond bracelet for my mom, and a high-quality (aka expensive) watch for my dad.

I had to dress to impress and by that, dress in things Edward had given me to give my parents more visual proof that he was taking care of me. But I was careful not to overdo it. I didn’t want my parents to think I was his piece of...eye candy.

When we arrive, my parents greet us at the door, giving me a much warmer welcome than they give to Edward. They’re not rude to him, but they look uneasy, even a little irritated.

Edward, being the charming bastard he is, keeps his calm and showcases his gentlemanly side. It’s genuine because he IS quite the gentleman as I have learned, but I don’t know if it will be enough to convince my parents to accept him.

They appreciate the gifts, seem a little caught off guard by the pricey but very lovely things Edward bought them. They also notice I’m wearing a dress that cost a pretty penny and jewelry just as extravagant. But none of it’s gaudy.

Basically, I don’t look like Riddler’s trophy girlfriend.

Edward is courteous and charming, which seems to help my mom relax a bit. My dad still looks rather tense, though.

My grandma, being 90 and having frequent issues with memory, doesn’t remember who Edward actually is. My parents told her but she had forgotten and it was probably for the best.

My grandma is impressed with Edward, finds him to be a proper, handsome gentleman type. She also was very grateful for the gifts he brought her.

Edward is very patient with my grandma, which I know isn’t easy due to her memory problems. But he is very relaxed, behaving pretty much like he does around me.

We all have dinner and chat, and the tension in the air lightens. My parents even laugh at a few humorous comments from Edward. He thanks my parents for allowing him to visit and for the wonderful dinner, and offers to help my parents clean up.

Good. This gives my parents time alone with Edward which, as nerve-wracking as it is for me, is something that needs to happen. They need a one-on-one with my boyfriend...and hopefully it didn’t turn into a mess.

I stay with my grandma and act like everything’s fine as I anxiously wait to find out what my parents will ultimately think of Edward.

They are upfront with him once they’re alone with him, asking him if he’s putting up some kind of act or if this is all really him. They also ask if he genuinely cares for me or if he’s just using me because I’m “young and pretty.” They don’t hide their feelings, my parents, and they are concerned for my safety and happiness above all else. They NEED to know that Edward is good to me despite being Riddler. They can’t tell me who to be with but it would put their mind at ease if they were assured I was in good hands.

Edward is honest with them. He isn’t putting on a front. He is gentlemanly by nature with people he likes and respects, and he’s a bit old-fashioned in some ways anyway due to his age. He doesn’t fake his feelings for anyone, and while he does want my parents to accept him as my boyfriend, he knows it’s not an easy choice. He also tells them they have every right to reject him, and he won’t hold a grudge towards them about it if they do.

If anything, he’s earned scorn more than kindness due to how he’s lived his life, and that’s fair. He accepts that.

But then he explains that no, I am not eye candy for him. He’s not a play boy looking for a “good time.” He’s serious about me and feels things towards me he’s never felt--never expected to feel. I’m the one thing in his dark and violent life that is bright and soothing, even though he’s done nothing in his life to deserve such a sweet and caring partner.

He tells them that I’m always protected and cared for, and he has made arrangements to ensure I’m still protected and cared for if -- or more realistically, when something happens to him.

Being Riddler’s girlfriend has its perks. No one messes with me, that’s for sure, because they know I’m important to him, and they know what he is willing to do to keep me safe.

As scary as that is to hear, my parents find some relief in that. Yes, Edward is The Riddler, a criminal mastermind who strikes fear into many. However, he takes care of what is precious to him -- and not much is precious to him. Actually, nothing is save for me. I bring him a lot of joy and much-needed peace, and he’d give his life to protect me.

I deserve to be happy, he tells my parents, because I am a good person unlike him, and he works hard to make sure I know I’m loved and cared for, that I’m good enough and that he has no intentions of leaving me or cheating on me for someone else.

Edward also assures my parents that, should they need anything, he can provide. Of course, he won’t force his help on them but he won’t ever turn them away either. He looks out for those that mean a lot to me, who are close to me, regardless of who they are and how they feel about him. That is a promise he makes to my parents, too.

He also comments on how they have been taking care of my grandma pretty much on their own for a couple years now, and he knows from what he has observed and from things I’ve told him that it is a very exhausting duty. It’s an admirable one, though, for sure, and he respects my parents for being good people.

He sees where I get my kind nature, he tells them.

He says that he can pay for live-in help for them, like a live-in nurse, someone who can help take care of my grandma and let my parents have a break every now and again. Also, should she need anything that isn’t covered by her insurance, he will cover the costs.

Same goes for my parents, who aren’t the healthiest people in their old age (Edward has the regenerative properties of the LOTUS virus on his side -- they don’t). He doesn’t tell them that obviously, that they’re unhealthy, but he says should they need any expenses covered for treatments, medication, etc., he can provide.

Because he is THAT serious about me.

My parents are, to say the least, much more confident in my relationship with Edward now that they’ve talked with him one on one. They give him their blessing, so to speak, to be my boyfriend, and appreciate his generosity. They do ask for help with live-in aid for my grandma, and Edward says pick who they want and he’ll pay whatever insurance won’t cover.

I am beyond relieved that my parents have decided to accept Edward, and am so grateful to him for offering his help to them...because they need it and deserve it.

He tells me it’s no trouble at all, that whatever makes me happy makes him happy, and he’s more than willing to aid those that are important to me.

Edward and I stay over Christmas Eve so we can spend more time with my family on Christmas Day. We get the guest room which has a small bed, so we’re “forced” to get close.

Of course, I can’t resist tempting him even now, and he doesn’t turn me down. I do warn him that we have to be careful because, hey, my folks are here in this house and I’m not the quietest lover.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he tells me with a smirk. “I came prepared for any eventuality.”

Needless to say, I need to be gagged because Edward makes sure I have a Merry Fucking Christmas -- literally -- and also makes sure I know how much he both loves and desires me.

We decide to leave out the whole Dom/Sub aspect of our relationship in regards to my parents.

We also don’t tell them about how I call Edward, “Daddy” almost any other time 👀👀👀👀💦💦💦💦💦💦

My mom also refuses to believe he’s 60 years old because he’s so good-looking 😄

#telltale riddler #edward nigma #the riddler #riddler #self-insert #self-shipping #riddler headcanons #edward nygma #slightly nsft

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ladylynse · 4 years

Text

Revision: Maddie can’t deny it any longer. If ectoplasm can become blood, there’s more to this story than she ever realized.

Part 4 [FF | AO3]

(Previous)

-|-

“I tried tracking Danny’s cell,” Tucker said, “but he must’ve figured Vlad would do that and finally turned it off. Or it died. You know he never remembers to charge the thing.”

“I’ll head to Dora’s so you can stay out of the dead zone,” Sam said. “If you don’t want to challenge Skulker to see who can find Jack or Danny first, then head straight to Frostbite. That’s probably where Danny went. Dora can drop me off and pick up Poindexter and maybe Johnny 13 and Kitty if she can swing it.”

“Do you have extra Fenton Phones?” Jazz, being careful as always. Taking the lead, as she’d asked. Maddie stood back, holding the jet packs while the kids went over the plan. She’d checked everything over three times, knew these would work, but—

“Always,” chorused Danny’s best friends in unison.

They’d done this before.

They must have done this so many times before.

How could she and Jack have never noticed?

“Be mindful of the power supply on your jet packs,” Maddie said, hardly believing that she was handing them to two fourteen-year-olds and being perfectly okay with letting them go into the Ghost Zone on their own, virtually unprotected. “They should be able to draw on the ambient ecto-energy within the Ghost Zone, but you will have to stop somewhere to allow it to recharge or risk being stranded.”

“Don’t worry. We got this, Mrs. F,” promised Tucker as he shrugged on his pack. Sam was already tightening the safety straps on hers. Perhaps she hadn’t needed to tell them as much about these as they had; it might not be the first time they’d used this particular invention. “We’ll let you know if we find them. Any of them.”

“We’ll even ask Clockwork,” Sam put in. “I don’t think he’ll tell us anything, but we’ll try. Assuming we can actually find him and he’s not just pretending he’s not home again.”

Maddie didn’t know the names of half the ghosts they mentioned, let alone have any concept of where in the Ghost Zone they could be found.

She nodded anyway, pretending. Pretending to understand. Pretending to be strong. Pretending that this didn’t feel as wrong as it did, letting these kids do what she could not. Adults were supposed to protect children, and she felt like she was asking them to run into fire for her sake.

But they’d tread this path before, gone this way far more often than she, and were much wiser than her for it. She had to trust their judgement. They knew better than she did. They knew more than she did. It was as simple as that.

And if it meant protecting Jack and having a chance of finding Danny and Danielle….

“Thank you.” She wouldn’t be able to say it enough. “Good luck.”

The two flashed her grins and thumbs up, all signs of their earlier tiredness gone by now. They’d been given a mission, and they were ready for it. More than. She waved as they raced each other to the portal and dove into the Ghost Zone.

“You don’t have to pretend,” Jazz said softly. “Not with me, anyway.”

She had to. She had to, or she’d be curled up on the floor of the lab again, crying until she had no more tears. She couldn’t give up on this semblance of sanity. If she let her guard down, if she allowed herself to remember exactly what she’d done and who she’d done it to and—

Jazz walked over and hugged her, and Maddie felt her resolve crumbling.

“We’ll get through this,” Jazz reassured her, tightening her hug. “I know what I said earlier, but Dad will come back safe, and we’ll find Danny and Danielle, and then we’ll figure things out from there. This isn’t going to ruin us.”

It might have already, and she had no way of knowing.

Because she’d never listened.

Jazz waited a moment more before pulling away and stepping back. “Did you have any luck with the Booo-merang?”

“I reassembled it,” Maddie whispered, “and fed it the copy of Phantom’s ecto-signature that we had on file.” She wasn’t sure if it was perfect. The Booo-merang was more Jack’s invention than hers, and she knew he’d made tweaks that weren’t in the blueprints. She’d done what she could. If Vlad—

“We can tie a note to it,” Jazz said as she took out her hairband, “so that Danny knows it’s safe to come home even if we lose sight of it. I’ve done that before. It will get to him eventually.” She moved to the computer desk to get a pen and paper and began to write. After a few moments, she looked back up at Maddie. “You should write something, too. So Danny knows he can trust my word.”

Maddie moved slowly, finally reaching out to take the pen from her daughter with a shaking hand. She imagined accusations—accusations she deserved—and couldn’t think of the right words to say. What could she write to convey what she felt? The depth of the wrong she’d done?

I’m sorry, she wrote. It looked trite. False. I hurt you both. It was an understatement, but at least it was an acknowledgement. I want to do better. She couldn’t ask for forgiveness, not without doing anything, and even then…. Even then, she might not get it. She wasn’t sure she’d deserve it if she did. Please let me try. She could imagine an offer of help being turned back on her, Danny spitting that they didn’t need her kind of help, but…. But she’d rather that than write a plea that they come home and have him tell her this wasn’t home for him anymore and wouldn’t ever be again.

She had always thought she hunted monsters.

She hadn’t realized when she’d become one.

Jazz gently nudged her hand aside and slid the paper away, neatly folding and then securing it to the Booo-merang.

“What if he doesn’t want to come back?” Maddie asked. “What if he gets our note and ignores it?”

“He won’t ignore it forever, even if he doesn’t act on it right away.” Jazz turned the device on, and Maddie saw the light at its head begin to blink. “That’s not who Danny is.” She flashed a grin. “Are you ready?”

She wasn’t remotely ready, but there wasn’t time for her to be mentally prepared for all that this would entail. “We have no way to follow it if it goes into the Ghost Zone,” she said, “and even if we try to follow in the Fenton Ops Centre, we’ll still need to be able to keep it in sight for that.”

“Which we can. Dad added that tracking feature, remember? We’ll link it to the Booo-merang. Just like the Spectre Speeder. And if it goes into the Ghost Zone, we can put Sam or Tucker onto it.”

Maddie let out a breath. “Okay.” She couldn’t afford to argue. She didn’t know enough to argue.

Jazz drew back her arm and threw the Booo-merang. It spun, making a quick loop of the lab.

And then it made a second loop of the lab.

And a third loop.

A lazy fourth.

And then it crashed into the dissection table, skittering across it before falling to the floor.

Something was squeezing the breath from Maddie’s lungs, and she couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t do anything. She just watched as Jazz frowned and walked over to the device. She checked it over and tried tossing it again.

This time, it made two and a half loops before catching on one of their shelving units. Maddie winced as glassware shattered. Jazz fetched a broom and dustpan, sweeping up the pieces while Maddie watched in silence. As Jazz dumped the remains into the shards discard bin, Maddie summoned the strength to walk over and pick up the Booo-merang from where Jazz had placed it on the top of the workbench.

“What’s wrong with it?” Jazz asked softly when she was finished.

Maddie looked at the Booo-merang’s blinking light. “Nothing,” she whispered. “The copy of Phantom’s ecto-signature just isn’t sufficient.”

Jazz furrowed her brow and leaned closer, though Maddie knew there was nothing more to be seen. “What do you mean?”

“Ecto-signatures aren’t like fingerprints; they don’t stay the same unless some change is forced upon them. They change slightly over time naturally, to reflect the changes within each ghost.”

“But it’s always locked onto Danny. That’s never been a problem before.”

“That’s why it hasn’t been a problem. Because it could update its signature to evolve its records. Now, it’s been entirely reset, and the ecto-signature I gave it is just too different to be recognizable as the same one Danny currently has. I….” So much must have happened to cause that change, and she’d been blind to all of it. “I’m sorry. This isn’t going to work.”

Jazz huffed. “It’ll work,” she said, snatching up the Booo-merang and hugging it to her body with one protective arm. “We’ll just have to get the ecto-signature from Vlad.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Vlad. Like I said, he’s obsessed with Danny. Trust me, he’ll have a recent copy of Danny’s ecto-signature.”

“So you wanted to shoot him earlier, and now you want to work with him?”

“Oh, I still want to shoot him. Taking a blast from an ecto-gun in human form won’t do as much damage as when he’s in ghost mode, but it’ll still hurt.”

Human form. Ghost mode. It was jarring to hear Jazz talk about molecular fusion so offhandedly, to the point that she could mention it like that. She must have discovered and accepted this idea ages ago. And Danny—

“But whether I like it or not, it looks like we need him. At least until we hear from Sam and Tucker.”

Maddie took a slow breath. The idea of working with Vlad…. It didn’t sit well with her now that she knew the truth. There was too much of Plasmius in Vlad. He wasn’t the same person she’d known in college. She had to stop thinking of him as such. “I don’t think I can pretend to be ignorant of everything you’ve told me.”

“You don’t need to. Vlad would probably see through an act anyway. He won’t be happy that I’ve told you everything, but he won’t be surprised after what’s happened. He’ll take what he can get.”

Maddie frowned and glanced at her daughter. “Meaning?”

“Meaning this would still give him the opportunity to spend time with you, and that might be enough bargaining power.” Jazz hesitated. “I know that sounds bad. It is bad. I just…. I don’t know if we can afford to wait for Sam and Tucker. Vlad definitely won’t be waiting. And whatever Skulker says, he’s really not the Ghost Zone’s Greatest Hunter. He’s not going to be a better option when it comes to asking for help. Vlad might have him looking already anyway.”

Skulker. The ghost that used a mechanical exoskeleton. She’d seen Phantom—and Danny?—take it down multiple times. It made her want to question Jazz more about all of this, about halfas, about the consequences of which she was currently aware, but there wasn’t time. She couldn’t afford to distract herself that way. Not when Danny…. Not when Danielle….

“All right. Let’s go.” She was afraid that if she didn’t commit, she’d find a way to talk herself out of going. Convince herself that they could find another way, whatever Jazz thought. The idea that Plasmius might have convinced Vlad to—

But Jazz was right. Different, albeit just as unscrupulous, options were out there to explain Danielle and her true relationship to the Fenton family. And Maddie wasn’t in a position to point fingers when it came to unscrupulous behaviour. Not after what she’d done.

You don’t understand.

She was convinced she’d never forget the cries.

I’m not just a ghost.

She didn’t deserve to forget.

I’m human, too.

She couldn’t just pretend this hadn’t happened, that she hadn’t done what she had. In order to do better, she had to remember. She couldn’t allow herself to fall into old patterns and risk repeating the same mistakes, even unintentionally. She wouldn’t be able to ease her guilt right away, but maybe, with time, with enough changes, with enough effort, she could…. She could accept what she’d done, if not forgive herself entirely. She didn’t think she’d be able to forgive herself unless the others forgave her, and they….

They had good reason not to.

She could ask for it, but she knew very well she might not receive it. That hurt, too, just thinking about it, but—

“Come on,” Jazz said, wrapping her free arm around Maddie and steering her towards the stairs, “I’ll drive. I left a note on the fudge in case Dad comes back before we do. He’ll see it there.”

-|-

Vlad had not intended to come back after a quick change of clothes, whatever he’d tried to make it sound like. Maddie realized that now. Still, it only made standing on Vlad’s stoop this early in the morning even worse.

When the door finally opened, Vlad himself was there to greet them, looking like he’d recently stepped from the shower. “Ah, Maddie, how delightful. And Jasmine. I hadn’t quite made myself presentable for—”

“You can drop the act,” Jazz said as she elbowed her way past him. “I told Mom everything.”

Vlad raised his eyebrows. “Everything about what?”

“Phantom and Plasmius,” Maddie whispered. She had to force herself to meet Vlad’s eyes, and she saw motions flicker across his face until his features settled into a careful mask. Practiced. Polite. The same one he used to wear while convincing the higher-ups at the university that they should be allowed funding and space for their projects.

“Ah.”

He didn’t say any more. He simply stepped aside and let her in.

“We need a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature,” Jazz said. “I know you have one, so don’t bother denying it.”

“Showing your hand so early?”

Jazz rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at Maddie. Vlad glanced in her direction as well and then sighed. “I am doing what I can to search for Daniel. Whatever your implications, my involvement isn’t a farce.”

“Then prove it by giving us a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature. You ruined ours, so if it was purely accidental and not on purpose, what’s the harm?”

“Jazz,” Maddie said, a warning in her tone. They could only push Vlad so far. They were still asking for his help.

And she didn’t particularly want to meet Plasmius right now.

It…. She couldn’t see him. She’d thought she would, now that she knew. She’d thought there would be something behind Vlad’s eyes that she’d be able to identify, some little piece of Plasmius. Not because she doubted the truth of Jazz’s words, she didn’t; rather, she wanted to think that she could pick apart which being was more in control of Vlad, Plasmius or one of her former friends.

But all she saw was Vlad.

The same Vlad who’d stood up for her and Jack when they’d made their first group presentation on the paranormal. The same Vlad who’d stayed up late with her to pore over Jack’s last-minute changes to their blueprints. The same Vlad they’d met again at the reunion and seen so frequently since.

“Surely you know I would hardly impede your investigation when it came to finding the little badger—”

“Which is why you deliberately destroyed the Booo-merang?”

“—but I’m afraid I really don’t have a recent copy of Daniel’s ecto-signature. He, ah, deleted my files just last week.”

Jazz narrowed her eyes. “Fine,” she spat. “Say I believe that. Say you really don’t have a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature. Why ruin ours?”

“I never intended to ruin it. I merely wanted to try to obtain a copy of it for myself.”

Jazz pursed her lips and met Maddie’s eyes. Maddie knew that long-suffering look on Jazz’s face. It was the one she made when she was barely restraining herself from parroting back Danny’s words in a mocking tone, trying to convince herself that she was an adult and above such childishness. Jazz was quite mature for her age, but she was still a teenager. Even…even if she knew as much about the world—and the Ghost Zone—as she did.

“I’m sure I could be of help in other ways. If Maddie and I—”

“You’re not getting hours of alone time with my mom,” Jazz interrupted. “What about Danielle’s ecto-signature?”

“You really believe Daniel would allow me to keep that?”

Jazz’s smile was sudden and triumphant. “Then you admit it. You know who she is.”

“She’s a ghost who’s passed through this town,” countered Vlad. “Whatever you and Daniel think, I do try to protect Amity Park. Keeping tabs on ghostly activity is merely part of that.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Vlad,” Maddie said softly, “please. Even if you don’t think it’s important, anything you could tell us would be appreciated. I’d never seen that ghost before, and I know Jack would have told me if he’d had an encounter with a ghost so like Phantom.”

“My dearest Maddie, I can assure you that I harbour no ill will toward Daniel. I want to see him back with us as much as anything.” Vlad spread his hands. “I simply do not have the resources Jasmine thinks—”

“Shut it, Plasmius. We’re not buying that you’re the good guy. If you won’t give me the copy of the ecto-signature, I’ll find it myself.” Jazz turned and stalked away. Vlad, surprisingly, let her.

Or was it Plasmius who had? That’s what she’d called him, but Maddie still couldn’t—

“I’ll make tea,” Vlad said, putting his arm around Maddie and steering her towards what she knew was the kitchen. She managed not to flinch at his touch. Any other night before this, before knowing, she would have been so grateful for the support, but now— “Or coffee, if you’d prefer. We could do with something right now, I daresay. We’ll catch up with Jasmine in a few minutes. I change my security codes daily.”

“So it’s all…true,” Maddie managed. “You and Plasmius—”

“We really don’t need to talk about such things right now.”

Of course they did. How could they not? Vlad and Plasmius. Because of the proto-portal accident. It had to be. Months of hospitalization, bankrupt at the end of it, dropping out of college and—

And turning around and making millions. Billions.

Vlad had been skilled, but not—

“Please,” she repeated. “Please, just…. It’s really true? You and Plasmius? Like Danny and Phantom? And…and Danielle?”

Silence.

Vlad’s steady steps never faltered. She was desperately trying to think of a way to broach the conversation again. She didn’t want to let it go, to let it die, to let it lie between them unspoken. She couldn’t. Not after what she’d done with Danny. And….

It’s not that she felt comfortable with Vlad. After what Jazz had told her, she couldn’t, and it made her realize that she hadn’t been wholly comfortable with him before that, either. She’d wanted to think that maybe it was just her reacting to Plasmius’s presence, but since she’d realized that she couldn’t tell who was in control—

She wished Jack were here.

She wished he hadn’t gone to search the Ghost Zone alone, but she wasn’t sure there had been another choice. If it hadn’t been him, it would have been her, and he never would have let her go alone. But one of them needed to stay on this side. If Danny decided to call—

Maybe they shouldn’t have left the house.

She could have called someone to stay while she and Jazz came here. Or she should have come by herself. In case Danny phoned. He had their cell phone numbers, of course, but she wasn’t sure how many of those numbers he had memorized; she knew he knew the home phone, but if his cell phone really was dead—

“Every situation is different,” Vlad said at last. He led her into the kitchen and left her to lean against a counter while he busiest himself with preparations. There was no table to be had in here, oh no. Counters, islands, workspaces of all sorts, but nothing small and cozy, nothing intended for anyone to sit down and have a bite to eat or something to drink. This was a kitchen meant to be fully staffed, and—

It occurred to her that she had never seen Vlad’s butler.

Or a maid.

Or any staff, really.

They were always mentioned, and she knew he must have someone—he could hardly keep a place this large clean by himself on top of his mayoral duties—but it always seemed to be their day off whenever she came by.

She only ever saw Vlad.

“What…what do you mean?”

“I doubt the girl is quite like the others.”

“Her name is Danielle.”

“Yes.” His words were a whisper. “It is.” He turned around and presented her with a warm cup of— Coffee, by the look and smell of it. Black.

She took a hesitant sip.

He’d sweetened it with sugar.

He remembered how she drank her coffee, even after all these years.

“I—” Vlad paused. “Daniel and I, our circumstances aren’t quite the same.”

He was admitting it, then. She hadn’t thought he would after his earlier denials. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or terrified. A denial she could have spun into truth for herself, at least for a time. Long enough for her to find some steady ground to stand on. Long enough to make sure she wouldn’t have her feet knocked from beneath her again.

“How do you know?” If she didn’t ask, if she kept talking, she’d lose the opportunity entirely, and she knew she couldn’t afford that.

“I’ve spoken with her. The ghost girl. She’s come to me for help in the past. As I daresay you’ve realized, she’s as much girl as she is ghost.”

I’m human, too.

“And you and Plasmius—”

“I’m stable. Daniel is stable. Poor Danielle is not. Or she wasn’t, the last time I had her in my lab.”

“You still have a lab, then?”

Vlad smiled. “Oh, Maddie, I could never give it up. It reminds me too much of the treasured moments I used to spend with you.”

“And Jack,” she added pointedly, remembering Jazz’s words. Vlad has an unhealthy obsession with you.

“Yes, of course.”

The words came quickly, smoothly, but she wasn’t sure they were honest. How could she? Jazz hadn’t had the slightest bit of doubt in her voice when she’d said Vlad hated Jack. Hated. It was such a strong word. Maddie hadn’t noticed anything herself, but she’d never looked for it, either. Jack’s enthusiasm about his friendship for Vlad had always been her lens for their relationship, and Vlad had always been friendly towards her.

But recent experience had certainly taught her that there was so much she could miss—even from people close to her. If she’d never realized the truth of Danny and Phantom, she hadn’t much hope of seeing past the façade Vlad put up around her.

Maddie took another sip of the coffee, buying time to collect her scrambled thoughts. “And Plasmius doesn’t…hinder you?”

“Far from it.” Vlad flashed her a smile she could no longer call genuine. “The situation has grown on me, and I do find ways to make the best of it.”

How much was the honest truth and how much was a carefully scripted truth? Perhaps things had changed, but Vlad had rarely told direct lies in their college years, even little white ones. He’d delighted in misdirection and obfuscation. He had always been quite proud when he’d managed to convince someone of something false, telling perfect truths riddled with oft-unseen holes where he’d lied by omission. It was never in his papers, of course—he’d been far too credible for that and wouldn’t dare risk being accused of falsifying results—but he had always loved a good verbal battle, to match wits with someone he considered worthy.

She’d seen him to do it so many times.

She wondered why she hadn’t thought she could be on the receiving end of it until now.

Best to change tack, then. It was unlikely that she could catch him off his guard—he clearly knew so much more of the situation than she, and how could he not?—but she had to try. She had to know. “Why does Jazz think you have a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature?”

“She is, no doubt, aware of the tracking I do, as is Daniel.”

“So when you say Danny destroyed your files—”

“I’ll admit I don’t think it was Daniel directly; it’s far more likely to be his friend Tucker’s work.”

Vlad said he kept tabs on ghosts to help him protect Amity Park, but Phantom fought those ghosts routinely. Phantom fought Plasmius routinely. Plasmius couldn’t be helping Vlad protect Amity Park—unless Phantom simply saw him as another ghost and acted accordingly? She still didn’t understand how much influence the ecto-entity had over the human host, but it would surely be greater when the ecto-entity was in control, and—

No. She couldn’t make assumptions. She had to stop doing that. She didn’t know how much was Vlad and how much was Plasmius, just as she wasn’t sure how much was Danny and how much was Phantom. The notes she and Jack had accumulated on both ghosts were surely wrong; they had never accounted for human ties, and that would skew their results terribly. They knew nothing. She knew nothing.

Which meant she couldn’t believe everything she was told, whether from Jazz or from Vlad. Each would have their biases, just as she had hers, and what they told her would be coloured accordingly. And there was always the chance that what they knew was wrong, even if they believed it to be true, just as she and Jack had been wrong.

Except….

Vlad was a primary source, and though Jazz’s knowledge was second-hand, it would all come from Danny. She didn’t want to mistrust either of them, but what they told her didn’t always line up, and—

Maddie set her coffee down on the counter and took a steadying breath. “May I speak with Plasmius?”

Vlad spluttered, losing his composure and nearly choking on his own cup of coffee. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’d like to speak with Plasmius. Is that possible?”

“I— Yes, of course it’s possible, but—”

“Then let me speak to him. Please.”

Vlad set his cup aside in favour of closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I should have realized you were taking this awfully well. I am sorry, Maddie. I didn’t doubt Jasmine when she’d said she told you everything—she’s no reason to pretend otherwise, blatant as she’s being—but I hadn’t realized that you didn’t yet understand.”

His words chilled her. “What do you mean?”

He opened his eyes to look at her. For the briefest instant, red replaced familiar blue before it was blinked away. She started and took a step back, only to hit the counter. Vlad looked resigned as he said, “You’re already speaking with Plasmius.”

(see more fics | next)

#danny phantom #maddie fenton #jazz fenton #vlad masters #phanfiction #dp fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #dp snippet #snippets #revision

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write-like-you-mean-it · 4 years

Text

A Hunter’s Prey: Doors and Hotel Rooms

I suddenly realized how all of this might look to an outsider. I, a fully grown adult, was talking with a child about the whereabouts of his best friend. He seemed so young and hopeful yet I could see some anguish deep within his eyes. It's the same look Illumi gives me when I ask about his past. It's the heartbroken look a mother gets when discussing an unborn child.

Gon’s facial expressions scrunch up the rest of his face. “You’re friends with Illumi? Why?” This child’s hand was firmly on the door with the look that he'd shut in on my face if I said anything wrong.

“Well,” I sigh looking down at the ring on my finger. “It’s a long, long story. Let’s just say that I had no way to not be his friend.”

“Are you being manipulated?” asked the green-haired boy. His eyes were squinted why he pursed his lips into a frown. “Do you need help?”

A smile crossed my face before I shook my head. “No I am completely alright. I’m here to see you.”

“I know that,” said Gon. “Are you going to give any information back to Illumi about Killua.”

A chuckle came from my lips. The sky had become a deep mauve before turning to night. Sea air held a misty feel around the small house. “As much as I would love to, he’s gone on a business trip far away. He told me that he’s going to be gone for a month at least.”

“Where would he go?”

“He’s with the Phantom Troupe on a mission. Illumi refused to tell me more about it,” I sighed while shifting the backpack.

“Illumi joined the Phantom Troupe?” shouted the little boy as if this was a huge revelation. How did he know about the Phantom Troupe? Who was this kid? I felt as though I was back in the manor and Illumi was refusing to tell me anything once again. He’d sent me on a mission with so little information that it was going to be a struggle to even survive, let alone, find information about his brother. “Kurapika is going to be so angry. I should try to call him again. Maybe Leorio can tell him.”

Kurapika? Leorio? These names sound so familiar. Where have I heard those names before? No. I read them. They’re in the little book that Illumi had. I pushed the backpack off my back and started rummaging around inside until I felt the hard leather. My hands skimmed the pages until I found those stars.

“You’re talking about Kurapika and Leorio Paradinight right?”

Gon’s eyes beat down on me as if I was going to attack him. He must be waiting for something dangerous to transpire. “Why do you know them? What’s in that book?”

“Oh,” I exclaim while closing the book. “It’s nothing. Illumi gave it to me before he left. I saw it when I was at the house and looked through. Yours, the other two, and Hisoka’s name were the only ones treated with a little star by them. It seemed harmless enough when I asked. He just said you guys were friends of Killua.”

“Illumi talked about me?”

“Not really. Just enough to say that you’re Killua’s best friend.”

“I thought Illumi didn’t believe in friends.”

“No. Hisoka’s his friend.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No. He told me the opposite but he was upset when Hisoka died,” I said nonchalantly while closing up the backpack once again.

“Hisoka’s dead?” gasped the little boy. “What? How? What happened? How do you know? How did he die?”

I shook my head at the questions before the flashbacks would appear once again. Flashbacks of Shalnark att strung up and bleeding from the swingset or Kortopi’s head sitting next to them. Even the ferocious look Machi gave to me when I had to cut her out of his trap. “Hisoka’s not dead now. He fought with someone in Heaven’s Arena and almost died. Well, he was dead and now he’s not.”

Gon’s face changed to a quizzical look. “So Hisoka isn’t dead.”

“Gon,” called the woman from inside the house. The boy turned to look back inside his abode.“It’s getting late. You still have a lot of school work to do tomorrow. Tell your friend you’ll see them tomorrow.”

He turned back to me before slowly starting to close the door. “I’ll meet you in the marketplace tomorrow. I’m not going to tell you about Killua just yet. He’s my best friend and he’s running from his brother.”

“Oh,” I say while cocking my head to the side. “I didn’t know he was running.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N,” said the boy as he finished closing the door. I was left in the pale light of the house's interior. My head began pounding at the thoughts that rushed through my brain. This was going to be much harder than I originally thought.

I turned to go back to the central square of the small island. I‘d hope there would be a hotel that would allow guests. The once crowded, bustling square became desolate in the night. Shop keepers had closed down many hours ago. All that was left were a few empty stalls and a small building on the side. The lights were still on and a sign was hung stating: vacancies.

I walked into the quant building that seemed more like a bed and breakfast rather than a hotel. The front desk person was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a sign that read “ring bell for service.” A shiny silver bell was placed next to the sign.

A single tap was enough to ring throughout the small entrance. A groggy woman stepped through the door. “Want a room?”

“Yes please,” I said while looking for the card Illumi had given me only hours ago. Had it only been hours? Time seemed to move so quickly whenever I wasn’t near my love.

“How long will you be staying?”

I looked down at the fully black card with gold lettering that read: Illumi Zoldyck. “I’m not sure. Let's start with a week.”

“You’re going to stay here a week?” questioned the lady. A heavy scent of cigarettes filled the air every time she spoke. “No one stays here a week.”

“Okay,” I questioned. Her apathetic attitude threw me off. “Then we’ll say 4 days. Is that much better?”

“It’s your money sweetheart. Not mine. You can do what you want.”

The lady typed on an old computer. She picked up on the other keys that hung behind her in a rack. “Your room is on the second floor to the left. You’ll have to find your own breakfast. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” I said while taking my card and key from her hand. I climbed the stairs that were only a little further than the front desk. Indented in the key was the number three. Passing doors one and two, a thought ravaged my head. This was the first normal thing I was doing without Illumi. Getting a room and going to sleep as if I was on vacation or a small business trip.

Loneliness settled deep within me. Freedom was always a prideful thought that pursued my life. Now I was a sad puppy with the hopes that Illumi would return to my side once again. I shook away the insecurities as I arrived at my door.

The room was quiet. The designer must’ve been someone much older than myself. A quilt was placed on top of the bed to give some pizzazz to the bland space. The white walls were a different shade than the white carpet.

A sigh left my lips while I flung the bag onto the bed. My body followed soon after. I rubbed my aching temples while my eyes stayed firmly shut. It wasn’t until I noticed a small shine that I fully opened them. The light reflected so beautifully off the diamond ring. “Lumi,” I mumbled while cuddling into the sheets. “What should I do?”

I knew Illumi wouldn’t tell me even if he was here. This was my problem to solve without him. Illumi was such an ass when he wanted to teach me anything. This mission was no exception. Illumi’s the biggest ass that I’ve ever known. But he’s mine. I miss him.

I need to learn more about Gon before I can continue to tell him about secret information. If I could reverse time, I’d kick myself for giving away information about Hisoka. I could’ve used it as leverage for information with Killua. I’m so stupid. I don’t deserve the Zoldyck name.

I groaned while finally sitting up in bed. I have to get down to business. If anyone would know the dirt on anyone, it would be the Zoldycks. Sadly, my favorite one was out of the picture. Kalluto should be on the ship too. Killua wouldn’t answer the phone. This leaves one Zoldyck sibling to call: Milluki.

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#illumi x reader #illumi #Gon #HunterXHunter #a hunter's prey #hxh #chapter 33

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springday-aus · 4 years

Text

Tech Kid!AU with Chan

—

Group: Seventeen

Member: Dino / Lee Chan

Genre: fluff, romance

part of the Odd Summer Jobs!AU ⤗ introduction of the Summer Boys!

check out the others on the au masterlist!

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: 1.6k

so Chan works around his neighborhood as a tech kid

he usually helps the older people, like grandparents or other adults with empty nests

you know, people without a younger generation to rely on

because of that, he doesn’t really do anything that’s necessarily… hard

most of the time he literally just turns the computer on and off

others are just updates on, like, phones or something

(Chan’s mom literally makes him do that shit all the time, which is what made him be the “tech kid” of the summer boys)

because of this job tho, he’s got a rep as their adopted grandson throughout his neighborhood

it’s really sweet

so there are other things he does, but they’re fairly easy

he gets called to help set up new laptops or desktops or something like that

sometimes parents call him to help their children set up like gaming laptops

but, like, they already know what they’re doing and he gets paid just for reading some manual instructions lol

most of the time it usually ends up with him spending like two hours teaching them how to use the mouse and type on the keyboard and all that other stuff

the other summer boys feel really bad for him because sometimes the customers get super infuriating

not in the sense that they’re rude or anything

it’s more of like, who doesn’t know how to use a fucking laptop mouse?

(but also, like, Mark struggles with technology all the time and whenever Chan points this out, the boys are like Mark who?)

the thing is tho is that Chan actually has a lot of patience and he thinks it’s super funny whenever these people struggle against technology

the amount of times he’s been called over to Soonyoung’s place is insane, but Chan thinks it’s super funny whenever he’s practically slamming his hands onto the keyboard

Soonyoung: “so if I click this…”

Chan: “hyung, you don’t have to click the left and right side of the computer mouse”

Soonyoung: “thEN WHAT ARE THEY FOR CHAN”

Chan: “I should really raise my hourly wage”

Soonyoung: “I’m just trying to make a presentation for this class why am I struggling so much” T^T

but yeah, his job isn’t necessarily hard

on some rare occasions it’ll be like programming or something but

he also knows how to do basic coding so

(he thanks his university’s stupid acadmic requirements for that)

and if not, there’s google

so he meets you because you needed some help with your laptop

it’s very old and you are very reluctant to to buy a new one

why?

because you have the mind of a 90 year old

which means you got the hang of this laptop and don’t know how to use other ones

so when a friend gives you an old laptop bc you won’t just buy a new one…………..

things get complicated quickly

because, first of all, the laptop is one of those fancy ass 2 in 1 laptops

and you didn’t even know that

…………. until you opened it to clean it and it started malfunctioning

not really malfunctioning, but more of…….. weird

anyways

your friend knew you were going to need some help, so your friend recommended calling Chan to help you set it up

You: “you want me to pay a guy to help me with something I can google on my phone?”

“try to google it on your new laptop then” :)

“fuck you”

so you get his number from your friend and shoot him a text

a couple of minutes later, he sent a response and you arrange a time together, also providing your address and all the other details

when he comes, it’s a bit awkward but it’s okay

you didn’t really expect him to be this young

but it’s fine

he goes in and makes small talk as he opens your laptop and such

he mentions his university, his major and club activities

and you talk a bit about yourself too

like your summer plans

the things you’re doing and what you’re prepping up for

once he gets your laptop open and started, he turns to you

Chan: “so what’s the problem?”

You: “..... there’s not exactly a problem, it’s more of a complication”

Chan: “complication?”

You: “I don’t… exactly know how to use it”

Chan: “why did you get this laptop then?”

You: “I didn’t really get it… it was more of a gift”

he raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything else

although there is a hint of a smirk

You: “could you just… help me figure this out?”

You: “I just don’t know the functions and stuff and I really don’t want to break it”

Chan: “okay, okay, give me a bit of time to mess with it and I’ll teach you”

so he messes around the laptop to figure out its functions and such

you’re on the side, just chatting with him as he does his thing

you both bond

it’s like that for a hot bit

but then he passes the laptop to you

Chan: “your turn” :)

You: oh shit

this is when the fun really begins

and by fun, I mean insanity

it was just two hours of you struggling

Chan: “so, there’s a stylus pen included for the touch function”

You: “ooooo, where?”

Chan: “it’s on the right side”

You: “I don’t see anything”

Chan: “you have to press the right side”

You: “press?? the right side???”

Chan: “(Y/N), not literally, there’s a part you have to—oh my God”

your brain cells were struggling to work with the technology

lowkey he was laughing real hard on the inside and failing to contain it

he lost it tho when you were trying to flip the screen into tablet mode and screamed because you thought you broke it for a hot sec

you know he was laughing at you but he looked pretty cute doing it

You: “laugh all you want, but when you’re suffering like this, I’ll be there”

Chan: “trust me, you aren’t as bad as some of my friends”

You: “I doubt it”

Chan: “you haven’t met Mark”

Chan: “I’m pretty sure he still has an ipod somewhere”

You: “..... really?”

so eventually he does have to leave

it took a while but you got there eventually

he also invites you out

Chan: “I feel like you would get along with my friends, would you like to join us for a movie night?”

(you didn’t notice him looking at you from how you were looking at him)

You: “yeah, sure, sounds fun”

and hence your first unofficial date

it was fun

the other boys easily let you in and they were real easy going

you all got along and had a lot of fun as time went by

Mark: “the ending was all interconnected”

Renjun: “you know that’s called a wrap up… you know… as a point of the movie”

and then when it was all over, Chan walked you home

Hansol: “oooooo”

Jaemin: “cute”

(he advised you to ignore them, but the redness of his ears shows how he didn’t even listen to his own advice lmao)

the walk home was a bit short, yet the conversation just kept going

and I don’t mean just the walk, you two kept in touch through texting

so that also meant spending more time together

hanging out

and getting to know one another

it’s cute bc some of the time is spent trying to teach you how to use your technology

Chan: “was this a seduction tactic to provide you with free services?”

You: “100% Channie”

he came over once with some of his video games and the two of you had a blast

(even though it took awhile for you to understand the controls)

at some point he was real close when he was trying to move your fingers along the controls……………….

hm, yes

you highkey just kept staring at his face rather than the controls and you were just………..heavily distracted

anyways

you actually come with him to some of his jobs

his usuals (i.e. the elders) think it’s super cute

“you brought your partner with you!!! hi!!!!”

they gave you cookies and you were sold: you were never going to leave

well, you did bc Chan dragged you out

while he works tho, you kind of just admire him from the side

you do feel kind of bad for him whenever he has to work with people who are just as bad with technology as... well, you

but he always reassures you

Chan: “this is good because you can see what you look like”

You: “...... I can always leave”

Chan: “not with all these cookies you can’t”

You: “goDDAMN IT”

that’s the summary of your relationship lmao

he’s the tech kid and you just…… struggle

but it’s okay

you have him :)

you know what’s cute tho??

bc he like knows how to code and shit

he knows all these cute little things to do for your laptop

(he highkey got inspiration from watching Strong Woman Dong Bong Soon to make your wallpaper into his face with animated heart emojis)

by cute things, I mainly mean messages rather than actual things

he’s not great with his words

he’s trying and it’s cute but like his actions show his affections and you eat that shit up

another thing tho

while he doesn’t say anything about physical affection

he really likes it

one time, you grabbed his hand to show him something at a shopping window

and he just kept looking at it bc he couldn’t look at you

but he also didn’t pull away

after that tho, you did amp up the skinship and he’s just…….. sigh

it’s great

you’re both having fun with each other like a couple of cuties running through a flower field

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angelsfalling16 · 4 years

Text

Let It Snow

Prompt: we always carpool home for the holidays from college but a storm hit and now we’re taking the last room at the local b&b (bonus: bedsharing! we’re adults!)

Requested by @nightimedreamersworld

A/N: This fic was a little hard to get started because I kept thinking about @carryonsimoncarryonbaz‘s fic, Can't Find My Way Home, and I was trying really hard not to copy it. (Not that I could ever measure up to such an amazing fic.) But I finally got this where I wanted it, so I hope you all like it!

Word Count: 3935

Read it on ao3

***

Simon

“Baz, we should stop for the night.”

“We are almost there.”

“We’re two hours away.”

“Exactly. We’re almost halfway there.”

“We can’t even see two feet in front of us. We’re likely to crash before we get any farther.”

The snow started early this morning, but it didn’t turn into this storm until we were already on the road.

Baz has been driving for a couple of hours, but we've come to a slow crawl as he tries to navigate a road he cant even see. There's no way we'll make it to our destination tonight unless our destination is a ditch on the side of the road.

“Well, if we had left two hours earlier, we wouldn’t be having this problem."

“Are you blaming me? I had a test.”

“You needed a ride, so I waited.”

He makes it sound like I forced him to do this, but he was the one who invited me along, offered to give me a ride home since we're from the same town.

I would have much rather stayed back in my dorm.

I mean, there's nothing waiting for me at home. Just a crappy father who doesn't care for me. I worked hard to get away from him, and I don't enjoy going back for the holidays. Which is why I hadn't planned on it this time.

But then, I ran into Baz on campus last week, and when I told him I was staying here over the break, he insisted on giving me a ride home. And because I'm stupid and developed feelings for my terrible roommate last year, I couldn't say no to him.

“I told you to leave without me," I say, glaring out the window at the snow. "It’s not like I have anything to go home to.”

Baz is quiet for a long moment, and I’m certain that he’s going to keep driving out of spite, but then he sighs.

“Fine. Find us someplace to stay for the night. I am not going to sleep in this car. I have spent enough of my time sleeping in a small space with you to last me a lifetime.”

With a glare in his direction, I pull out my phone and search for a place for us to stay the night.

***

When we step inside the bed and breakfast, dripping melted snow all over the light blue carpet, no one is behind the counter, and Baz seems intent on taking it personally.

He leans on the counter and hits the bell twice before tapping his fingers annoyingly on the wood.

“Is no one working here?” He gripes loudly.

“They’re probably busy working. You need to be patient.”

“Patience went out the window an hour ago.”

He hits the bell again, and I grab his wrist to stop him from doing it a fourth time.

“Baz,” I hiss. “Stop that before you annoy them so much that they decide they don’t have any rooms open and send us back out in the snow.”

Baz glares at me, wrenching his arm out of my grasp, but he doesn’t touch the bell anymore.

A minute later, an older woman walks in through the archway to our left, a polite smile on her face. If I had heard Baz ringing the bell like that, you can bet I would be scowling. (Actually, I am scowling.)

“Hi,” she says cheerfully. “How can I help you?”

“We’d like a room,” Baz says in a bored tone.

At least he isn’t insulting her.

“Well, you two are in luck. We have one room left.”

Baz exhales, and I can feel him relax beside me.

“Great, we’ll take it.”

“Oh. There’s only one bed, though.”

Baz tenses again, his body going rigid, and at the look in his eyes, I know that I have to step in before he loses us the room.

“That’s fine,” I tell the woman. “We’ll take it.”

“But-," Baz begins but stops when I viciously elbow him in the side.

“We’ll make it work. Unless you want to sleep in the car tonight?” I add in a whisper.

“Fine,” he says grudgingly. “We’ll take it.”

The woman smiles at us, types something into her computer, and hands us a key with a red tag hanging off it that has the number 6 on it.

“Alright, here you are. Your room is down the hall to your right. It's the last door on the left.”

“Thank you,” I say, taking the key from her before Baz can say anything else.

Baz picks up his suitcase from where he dropped it on the ground and pushes past me towards the hall.

With a sigh, I grab my own bag and trudge after him.

This is going to be a long night.

***

The room isn’t half bad. The bed is rather large and there’s a cozy looking seating area in one corner.

It’s a lot better than the room Baz and I shared our first year of college.

“This is going to be awful,” Baz murmurs, but I still hear him.

“It’s not that bad,” I say, slipping around him.

“Yes, it is. You should go see if there is any way we can get another room.”

“Why me?”

“You’re the reason we’re stuck here at all.”

“Are you seriously going to keep blaming me for this?” I ask.

“It’s your fault, isn’t it? I would gladly be on the road right now, but you kept insisting that we stop.”

Is he really mad at me for not wanting to die?

I have had enough of this.

“You know what? You should just leave me here. If you are that determined to get back on the road and get yourself killed, then go. Don’t worry about me.”

“How will you get back?” He asks.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he sniffs, lifting his nose in the air. “I feel responsible for you now.”

“What, like I’m some kid you’re forced to take care of? Nice.” I shake my head. “Screw you, Baz.”

I storm past him and into the bathroom, slamming the door and sinking to the floor.

I am such an idiot. Of course, he doesn’t care about me. Why would he? I’ve been a thorn in his side since the day we met.

We grew up thirty minutes away from each other, but we didn’t meet until we got college, 5 hours away from the town we grep up in.

It’s probably for the best that we didn’t meet until then because we never quite managed to get along when we were roomed together. It wasn’t until recently that we got close to anything that resembled friends, so I can’t imagine what it would have been like growing up knowing him.

We probably would have killed each other by now.

***

“What do you want to do about sleeping arrangements?” Baz asks when I exit the bathroom a while later, and I hate that I’m relieved he’s still here and that he didn’t try to take off. “I don’t think sharing the bed will be a good idea.”

"Right, because you can't stand to be anywhere near me.”

“That’s not what I—.”

“Whatever. I’ll sleep on the floor. You can have the bed.”

“Simon—.”

“Enough already! I get it. You don’t like me. You wish you’d never met me. I’m sorry that I’m such a huge burden on you, and I promise I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow morning. Now, please, just leave me alone.”

I turn away from him, grabbing one of the extra blankets off the bed and one of the pillows before moving to the opposite corner of the room.

I hear the bathroom door shut as I lay out my bed, and by the time Baz has exited again, I’m curled up facing the wall and pretending to be asleep.

I want this all to be over. I want the snow to stop so that I can get away from Baz and never have to deal with him again because this is all too much.

***

There is no way that I will be able to get away from Baz today. The snow hasn’t stopped, and it doesn’t show signs of stopping. Baz has no chance of getting back out on the road today, which means we’ll be stuck here another night.

While I can’t get away from him, I can avoid him as much as possible, which is why I left the room before daybreak and have been hiding out in dining room all morning.

I feel a little bad about disappearing on him, but who can blame me?

“Can I get you something, hun?” The woman who checked us in asks when she passes by me on her way to clear off one of the tables. “More to eat? Some coffee?”

I shake my head, forcing a smile. “I’m alright. Thanks, though.”

“If you need anything, just let me know,” she says, and I’m both disappointed and grateful when she moves along.

Obviously, I can’t pour all of my troubles out to a stranger, but I really wish I had someone to talk to.

“There you are.” Anyone but him.

“Here I am,” I say, not looking up from the book I found on one of the shelves. I’m not actually reading it, but it’s an excuse to keep my eyes off of Baz.

“I thought you left. I was worried that you had decided to walk back through the snow.”

I scoff. “You were worried? Yeah, right.”

Baz sighs, and I feel the table shift as he takes the seat across from me.

“Look, I’m sorry.” His voice is so gentle, almost sincere even, that I’m forced to look up at him.

Baz is dressed for the day in a fitted black tee that dips tantalizing low in the front, and he’s looking at me with an imploring gaze as he continues.

“I know that I’ve been an ass, and I am sorry for that. I’ve been really stressed recently, and it was unfair of me to take it out on you."

I make a noncommittal noise and turn the page of my book. There’s annoying song playing over head about letting it snow, and I wish someone would turn it off. It has snowed enough already. We don’t need anymore.

"Look,” continues, “it won't do us any good to keep fighting with each other. It appears that we'll be stuck here another night, and it would be more pleasant if we weren't arguing the whole time."

"Fine." I reply curtly.

"Fine what?"

"I won't fight with you anymore."

"Oh, good."

I turn another page of the book. "They're serving food if you're hungry.

"Okay." He seems to hesitate for a moment, but I still don't look at him, so he stands and heads in the direction of the food.

I take a deep breath and try to relax. It's only one more day. I can get through this.

***

There isn’t much to do in a bed and breakfast all day, especially with some who you are begrudgingly getting along with.

Baz packed a book along with his things and is sitting in one of the overstuffed armchairs in the corner of our room, but by the time lunch is over, I’m starting to go a little crazy. I can’t sit still and pacing up and down this room isn’t helping anything.

“You alright there, Snow?”

“M’fine. Just bored.”

He watches me for a bit, but I ignore him, continuing to pace, hoping to get rid of some of this pent-up energy.

It doesn’t help much, but it allows me to make it through the rest of the day with out going off on Baz for no reason.

After dinner, I decide to shower and head to bed early.

I’m laying out my bed on the floor again when Baz speaks up.

“We could share the bed if you want,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“There is plenty of room for the both of us. There’s no need for you to sleep on the floor.”

“I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near you,” I say, glancing over my shoulder.

“I didn’t mean any of those things I said yesterday. Come on, won’t you just get in the bed with me?”

“Oh, so you want me to sleep with you,” I say teasingly, turning to face him, and I delight in the way the tips of his ears turn red.

“No. I just don’t want you to freeze to death. Someone might accuse me of killing you.”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know. Someone.” He doesn’t sound convincing at all, but I don’t know why I’m arguing this with him.

It was cold last night, and even though there will be plenty of space between us, I’m sure that the bed will be much warm with our shared body heat.

“Okay,” I say after a long moment.

The corner of Baz’s mouth twitches, almost like he wants to smile, but it’s gone before I can be sure.

***

Baz is asleep, and I’m freezing. My entire body is shaking, which is probably what woke me up. I typically run warm, so this is an unusual change that I’m not sure how to deal with.

Well, I have an idea, but Baz might kill me. Although, he can’t kill me if I’ve already frozen to death, so I decide that I might as well do it.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, I scoot closer to him under the blankets. I’m hoping that being closer to him will warm me up, but this isn’t enough. I’m going to have to get closer in order for it to have any chance of working.

So, slowly, inch by inch, I move closer to Baz, who is thankfully still sound asleep. I stop when his nose is just a few inches away from mine.

He looks soft and peaceful like this, all the harshness gone when he falls asleep. I wouldn’t mind being around a Baz like this, one who didn’t constantly insult me. But that will never happen, so it’s wrong of me to hope for that.

I continue to watch him sleep for a minute, but I would hate for him to wake and find me staring at him and for all of this to be ruined, so I roll over and face the other way.

Already, I’m beginning to feel warmer, and it isn’t long before I’m drifting back off to sleep.

***

When I wake up in the morning, I am exponentially warmer. In fact, it feels like I’m being embraced by something that is warming me up.

It takes me a groggy moment to realize that that I am in fact being embraced by something warm. Or rather, someone warm.

Baz’s arm is around my waist, and I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. His body is pressed up against mine, and I can’t imagine how we got like this in our sleep.

I should move away, but if I do, he’ll wake up and find a way to blame me for this. And even though this is partially my fault for crossing the invisible line between us, it’s not like I’m the one holding him.

Still, I'm far too comfortable to risk ruining this moment, so I close my eyes and allow myself to enjoy this for a moment because I will never get the chance to be held by Baz like this ever again.

***

“Simon?” A voice says, waking me up.

I must have fallen asleep. I turn over, and the first thing I notice is that Baz’s arm is no longer around me. Then, I realize that he isn’t in the bed at all.

I open my eyes and find him standing at the foot of the bed, his suitcase sitting open in front of him. He’s putting things into it rather than taking things out. He has already showered and dressed, and he looks like he’s about to head out.

“Yeah?” I say with a yawn, pushing myself up into a sitting position.

“The snow stopped last night, and they are going to try to get the roads clear by later this afternoon. We should be able to head out tonight and be home before midnight.”

“I’m not going with you, remember?”

“I thought you just said that because you were mad.”

“I was, but I realized that I don’t have any reason to go back. There’s nothing for me back home. I would be better off staying back at campus.”

He stops packing to look up at me.

“Are you sure?”

I nod. “Things will be better that way.”

“You know that I didn’t mean what I said, right? I don’t blame you for getting us stuck here.”

“Mhmm,” I hum, pulling on a thread that has come loose from the top blanket and avoiding looking at him.

“Snow…” I feel the bed dip as he sits down.

“It’s fine. Really. I don’t want to go.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Can you say that while looking me in the eyes?”

I sigh and look up at him. “I’m not mad at you.”

I can’t be mad at you because I’m in love with you, I think but don’t say. You infuriate me, and I can’t stand the way that you talk to me sometimes, but no, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for falling for you.

I don’t think I can handle sitting in a car with Baz for two, or possibly more, hours. I might do something idiotic like reach for his hand or spew out my feelings in a place where I won’t be able to escape his humiliating taunts.

“I’ll be fine,” I tell him. “You should go see your family and forget about me.” The way that I wish I could forget about you.

“If you’re sure,” he says slowly, closing his suitcase.

“I am.” And before he can try to convince me to go with him, I slide out of the bed and cross the room to my bag, grabbing some clothes before disappearing into the bathroom.

Is it wrong to hope that it will start snowing again? If it did, Baz and I could spend another day (and night) together. I can’t help but wonder why might happen if we were to share that bed again. Would I wake up in his arms again?

“Let it snow,” I murmur as if it will make the snow magically start falling again.

I shake my head at myself and turn on the shower. I’m being ridiculous.

***

Evening comes much too soon, and I walk with Baz to the door of the bed and breakfast to see him off.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asks. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay.” He stands there another moment, looking at me like he wants to say something, but he seems to change his mind and turns away from me, trudging through the snow to his car.

I step back inside, but I watch him from one of the windows as he gets in his car and pulls out of the parking lot. I continue standing there a few minutes, a weird ache in my chest, before I finally turn and head back to our room, which feels empty without Baz here.

The bed suddenly looks too big, and the second chair in the corner feels like it’s taunting me, reminding me that I am now completely alone.

I push a hand through my hair and wonder if there’s any way that I could possibly get out of here today. I don’t want to stay in this room without Baz.

I’m still standing in the middle of the room, unwilling to touch either the chairs or the bed, when I hear the doorknob turning.

I spin around, wondering who could possibly be coming into my room, and I freeze when I see Baz.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Are the roads still blocked?”

“I couldn’t leave you here,” he says, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Because you’d feel guilty? It’s my decision. It’s not like you’re ditching me.”

“I know, but—.”

“Just go. You’ll miss spending the holidays with your family if you don’t go now.”

“I want you to come with me.”

I shake my head. “I told you. I have nothing to go home to.”

“Come home with me.”

“What? Why?”

“I want you to meet my family.”

“Why?” I repeat because nothing that Baz is saying to me right now makes any sense. Go home with him? Meet his family? Why would he want that?

“Because… Because I like you.”

“No, you don’t. You hate me.”

“I don’t, actually. I like you. A lot. And I would never forgive myself for leaving you alone at Christmas.”

“You just feel bad. You don’t care about me.”

“Simon—.” He cuts himself off when I shake my head and turn away from him. I don’t have time to listen to his lies. I don’t need him to play with my feelings and make me feel even worse about all of this.

I don’t have anywhere to go to get away from him, but I can’t stand to look at him right now.

He won’t leave me alone, though, and a moment later, I feel his hand wrap around my wrist before he spins me back around to face him.

I open my mouth to yell at him to go, but he stops me by pressing his lips to mine, effectively shutting me up.

Before I can even react, he’s pulling away from me, but he doesn’t try to step away.

“I don’t blame you for not believing me,” he says quietly, “but I am telling you the truth. I like you, and I would rather spend Christmas with you than without you.”

“But you’re never nice to me.”

“I know, but I was trying to hide my feelings behind all of that. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. I told you I was fine.”

“What you are is stubborn. Would you really prefer to spend Christmas alone than come home with me? Even if you don’t like me, surely you want to get out of here.”

“I do. Like you, I mean. I just—mmph.” He cuts me off with another kiss, this one softer than the last.

He brushes his lips across mine, and I sigh against them. When I don’t pull away, he adds pressure, kissing me more firmly and placing his hand on the small of my back to pull me closer.

When he pulls away a few moments later, I’m embarrassed to find myself leaning forward to try to follow him.

Blushing, I look down, but he places two fingers under my chin to tilt my face back up to his.

“So, will you come home with me?” He whispers, and I can see the worry in his eyes, can see that he’s afraid that I might say no.

“Yes,” I breathe.

Baz grins, and it’s beautiful. Then, he helps me gather things into my bag, and he takes my hand as we walk to the front of the B&B to check out.

I’m smiling all the way, thinking about how I’m no longer going to be alone for Christmas and won’t have to worry about finding a ride back to campus.

Who knew that kissing Baz could solve so many problems?

#snowbaz #snowbaz fic #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz pitch #carry on #wayward son #rainbow rowell #my writing #let it snow

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infinite-nevers · 3 years

Text

chapter one; wayward son

Enna Scanlan bounced in her computer chair. Only two hours to go before Owen’s return to their village in around six years. Her best friend, Grace, stared at her over her mug, an amused smile across her face and dark green eyes creased. Enna’s eyes had been flicking over to the clock on the other side of the room since she got in at nine this morning. Her personal phone was barely out of her sight and checked every five minutes. It was usually kept tucked away in her bag in case their boss caught sight of it. ‘No personal phones in the office’ until lunch time was a strict rule. Then, Enna had devoted the entirety of today’s lunch hour to chasing signal around the huge office and cursing their hotel’s terrible location.

“He’s not texted then?” Grace asked mildly, sipping her tea, and twirling a red curl. That glare was thrown at her again. She chuckled, “I don’t get it- you’re in contact everyday, why is today any different?”

Enna and Owen couldn’t go a single day without contacting each other. There was always some text or phone call to interrupt her day. Enna had once gone away with her boyfriend on a surprise trip and had neglected to tell Owen. Two days had passed without contact and Owen had gotten so worried he’d rung Enna’s mum. There had been a long talk about boundaries after that, but their daily contact had resumed.

“Today is the day I finally see him,” Enna said, looking so excited Grace might have been a little jealous had she not already understood that she always came second to Owen. If only Sean, Enna’s boyfriend, would remember that too. Nothing could break Enna and Owen’s bond from birth, including not seeing each other for a year or two.

Enna sighed and grabbed her mug. Just as she began to stand to go to the kettle, she saw that Grace had already poured them their 3pm brews. She raised her mug, a kitsch red and blue offering, in an apologetic salute.

Enna knew she could become a little occupied in her friendship with Owen, but she’d never been this bad before. They’d been best friends growing up and in university but had still managed lives outside of each other. The ever-lengthening time apart and Owen’s sudden urge to come home had made Enna realise just how long it had been. They’d always planned visits but with life happening all around them it had never quite panned out as often as it should.

“Sorry,” Enna grimaced when she realised that she’d gotten lost in her head again. Grace just laughed, used to the memory lane disappearances by now.

“No worries. Just remember you’ve got ‘the future Mrs O’Donaghue’ breathing down your neck.”

“Oh f-” Enna squealed. Dragon Bride, a young woman who only answered to ‘the future Mrs O’Donaghue’, was getting married in a week’s time and her wish list only kept growing. As events coordinator for the hotel Enna had dealt with many difficult clients over the years. Dragon Bride beat them all. Enna shuddered to think of the consequences of ignoring her.

Two hours later, Enna pretended to bash her forehead against her desk as a high-pitched voice screeched into her ear, “this of the utmostimportant! Do you understand?”

Enna breathed in deeply through her nose and bunched her hair into a fist, “ma’am. Your wedding is in two weeks, it might be difficult to find a petting zoo to rent out in that time.” Her exhale whistled through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want it for the wedding! I want it for the hen do. Is this making sense to you now?” Dragon Bride yelled again. Enna’s knuckles whitened in her hair.

“That is in a week so it’s the same-”

“Just get it done.” Dialling tone rung loud in her ear.

She raised her head from her desk and stared at the phone. She let out a loud, frustrated squawk and slammed the phone down, “This woman is a nightmare!”

“Who’s a nightmare?” A cheerful voice cut through Enna’s frustration. She jumped with a yelp. Swivelling around in her seat she saw her boss, Conor, beaming widely at her. A charismatic man, half the office was in love with him. Blonde hair flopped over his twinkling eyes, always looking suitably messy from his paddle-boarding habit. He looked so much like a stereotypical Australian surfer that it was sometimes a little difficult taking him seriously as her boss.

“The future Mrs O’Donaghue.” Grace supplied, voice light with barely contained amusement.

“Ah,” Conor nodded, “the Dragon?” Enna blinked at his flippant tone. He was a very relaxed boss, insisted everyone called him and his wife by their first names, invited all of his staff down to the pub every Friday and knew them all by name, right down to the ground staff he saw maybe once a year, but usually he was quite respectful towards clients. Enna nodded dumbly.

“What did she want this time?” There was an annoyance in his voice that Enna couldn’t quite parse. Conor never got involved in her clients until Enna came to him with a problem. Then he’d hear the problem from both sides and try to help her solve the issue. She’d only mentioned Dragon Bride once in passing and Conor had dismissed her worries, promising to take her side in whatever.

“A petting zoo!” Grace replied with malicious glee. Enna shot her a look over her shoulder and got a quiet ‘what’ shrug back.

“Who’s paying for the wedding?” Conor asked without preamble, “trust fund baby?” It clicked in Enna’s head. Despite his own wealth from being a hotelier Conor was a snob about rich people. He hated people who had been born into wealth rather than working for it. He thought it made them spoilt and irresponsible. In the case of Dragon Bride, he was right.

“Her father,” Enna muttered. She didn’t want to add fuel to a possible tirade about the plight of the common people. Grace was giggling behind her, turning it into a cough when Conor furrowed his brows at her.

“Ignore her! If she complains I won’t take any notice. Just do your best! And put your phone away,” He nodded towards to Enna’s beeping phone, “oh wait, look it’s five. Pack up lads and ladies! It’s home time! Who’s coming to the pub?” He grinned and swung his arms around to suggest everyone wrap up what they were doing. Everyone instantly stood, having waited for their boss’ weekly pub invitation. Enna picked up her phone with a wry grin towards her eccentric boss, huddling people out of the door. A text from Owen awaited her – he had arrived.

She bolted for the door.

She arrived at the small, red brick bus station twenty minutes late and swearing the entire time. The bendy country roads, thankfully leaf free this time of year, were difficult to navigate anyway. Having vengeful farmers move their herds during rush hour just made it an exercise in anger management. She parked the car across the road, kicked the door shut with another loud curse and looked up to laughter.

Across the road, crouched against the bus station’s toilets walls, was Owen and he was laughing at her. He ran a hand through his hair. Enna grinned back at him, anger instantly melting away. She surreptitiously studied him as she tried to get to him. It had only been around two years since she’d gone to see him in the UK, but he looked untouched by that time. His hair still swung messily around his ears and his eyes still creased when he smiled.

“Sorry!” She yelled over the traffic, “I meant to text but signal on this road y’know,” she carried on as she ran across a gap in the cars going home from the city. Owen waved a dismissive hand as he stood and held his arms out. She threw herself into them apologising profusely, “Alan-”

“-is still punishing us mere mortals for not choosing God’s own profession by letting his sheep loose during rush hour?”

“Exactly!” She beamed as she drew away. Her eyes darted down to what he had been crouched over, “is that all you have?” Disappointment washed over her as she eyed the small duffle bag.

Owen laughed loudly. He ruffled her hair before dropping an arm around her shoulder. Picking up his bag, he guided her towards the luggage hold office opposite the ticket booth. Two huge suitcases stood in wait, “fear not little one, I’m here a while.” Enna let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. It was time to bring Owen home.

Later that night, and one sheep free journey later, the two stood outside their old home away from home. Ramble Inn was an old pub in a beautiful Georgian building with red trims around the window. The door had also been red at one point, but the paint had now peeled and faded to a faint pink. As they were growing up it had been their second living room. It was where they came after Mass, where they came after a match, and where they came after school once you hit fifteen. Try as you might though, Tom would never serve you.

Owen laughed at memories of a bygone era. Him, Enna, Grace and Liam, Enna’s older brother, clustered around a table playing dominoes with the old men. They’d enjoyed playing at being adults and the real adults had enjoyed indulging them. He wondered if they were still there.

“Tom still won’t serve you underage.” Enna guessed at his previous thoughts. Owen rubbed at his beard. One night, drunk and seventeen, Owen had tried to get served. He’d gotten quite rowdy; Tom had thrown him out and he’d landed on his face. He’d never forgotten the pain of a dislocated jaw.

“Tom’s still psychic, knows everyone ages, even the passers through. Kids don’t get anything but juice,” Enna grinned at him lost in his misty-eyed memories.

“You two going to stand outside here all night?” A voice cut through their reverie. They turned their head in unison. Caoimhe Walsh stood there with a hand on her hip and bright eyes fixed on Owen. A more recent addition to the village, a blow-in from Dublin, Caoimhe had been an instant hit. Tall, blonde, and beautiful, she was everything Enna wasn’t but every bit as sweet as she looked.

“Keev!” Enna grinned, “thought you were out with the girls tonight?” Unlike Enna, who found socialising wearing, Caoimhe thrived on it, flitting happily between social groups, welcomed by most.

“Yeah, we decided on a quiet one instead.” She slung an arm around Enna’s shoulder and threw a hand up to the Ramble Inn’s curling gold letters. Enna snorted. Caoimhe shot a wolfish grin back. They both knew she’d have no such thing.

Caoimhe’s eyes finally strayed to where Owen was looking at them with a slightly dumb smile on his face. Noticing Caoimhe looking at him, Owen offered a slightly dumb wave.

“Owen?” Caoimhe’s eyes went wide and, after a beat, threw her arms around him in a massive hug, “oh my god, you’re that Owen?”

Enna blinked rapidly at them. Keev had moved the village long after Owen had left. Although she had featured heavily in the stories Enna told him, he never mentioned knowing her.

“You’re that Caoimhe?” His laugh was jubilant as he picked her up, “I never made the link! Enna talks about you all the time. Oh, Eni, do you remember that business trip I took like two months ago?” Owen turned back to her when he caught sight of her tilted head and querying expression.

Caoimhe came back to Enna’s side and slid her hand into the hook of Enna’s arm. She grinned at her expectantly, “and remember that holiday I took two months ago?” She prompted when Enna didn’t connect the dots straight away. It must have all been too exciting because she didn’t wait for a response, “well we met at this bar, got chatting and when I said I was living in Ballygra… how did we not make the connection?”

Enna pulled a face. It certainly seemed a little unbelievable. There were so few people in the village and none with her name. Before she could query it, Keev said,

“Can’t believe Ballygra produces such hot men.” She winked at him. He nodded and winked back with a flirtatious grin. Enna snorted.

Nothing had changed then. It had been like this since he was about twenty-one. That’s when the braces had finally come off, bed head stopped being his only hair style and he’d discovered the power of personal hygiene. Since then people had flocked around him. She saw it, of course, but actual attraction was hard to summon when you’d seen them hungover countless times since you were fourteen.

“Are you coming to Midnight’s, Owen?” Caoimhe beamed as the thought occurred to her.

Saturday lunch at Café Midnight was their tradition; Enna, Liam, Grace and Caoimhe. Sometimes Sean would pop in his head, but Friday night was Boys Night and lunches were usually slept through as a healing process. Caoimhe dragged the pair inside instead of waiting for an answer. She already knew that, when together, where Enna was Owen would also be.

The Ramble Inn was the same as Owen remembered it. The wooden bar stood proud in the middle; battered, worn, and smelling of spilled beer and disinfectant. Old, wobbly stools stood guard including the one Enna had completely unpicked when she was fifteen. Tom had made her re-sew another one and, despite it being the ugliest thing in the world, he had made her sit on it every time she came in for years.

It was filled with the usual Friday night suspects. On the right-hand side, the men still played their dominoes. Old Man Charlie still had his whiskey clutched in his hand and an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips, smoking ban be damned.

On the left-hand side sat the younger crowd, some with kids because who wanted to cook on a Friday night? Teenagers tucked in the corner with juice, a group playing darts. Tom stood through it all, keeping court with a raggedy dishcloth tossed over his shoulder. The only difference was Tom’s hair now silver all over and there were extra wrinkles around his eyes. A spotty teenager served as a glass collector.

Caoimhe left Owen’s side the moment they entered. A group of women sitting at the back waved her over. One of them nodded to Owen and Caoimhe flew over to them to spread the gossip of his return.

Owen turned for Enna, but she had already brushed past. She nodded to all the familiar faces as she moved towards the bar. She leant on it, sitting on her stool, and laughed at whatever Tom said to her. Then she turned to point at Owen still standing by the door. Tom’s bushy eyebrows shot up.

“You’ve grown boy!” Tom yelled over the pub noise. It fell quiet. Everyone looked over at him. He shifted on his feet and offered an awkward wave. It took a few seconds, but the pub noise swelled once they recognised Ballygra’s wayward son. Old Man Charlie and his group raised their glasses. Tom beckoned him over. He shuffled over and Tom busied himself by the bar,

“You still Jameson’s?” He grinned his familiar, crooked smile and pushed a glass towards him. His returning smile was awkward, wondering how his jaw might last this encounter. A beer was in Enna’s hand and he raised an eyebrow. All through university Enna had been a cocktail girl, proudly declaring beer to be nothing but ‘wheat water’. She noticed his pointed look.

“Well, you’ve got to lower your standards for this place,” the wink she sent Tom was waved good-naturedly away.

Suddenly a large set of arms wrapped themselves around Enna’s waist. Lips pressed against her cheek and told her, “You’re late. Took your time getting here, didn’t you?” The tone aimed for teasing but missed.

“Sean! I had to pick Owen up and say hi to his mam of course,” Enna laughed. She turned around and reached up to peck him on the lips.

“How could I forget?” There was a slight edge to Sean’s voice that made Owen prickle slightly. Sean reached over with his hand extended. Owen shook it, proud that he only winced a little at the firm grip. The two men then regarded each other coolly over Enna’s head. She pretended not to notice, preferring to ignore a problem until it went away. Instead, she busied herself with looking around the pub for someone. The two men regarded each other. Sean was dark haired, blue-eyed, and muscular, the exact type Enna had lusted after all these years. Owen was brown haired, brown-eyed and, in Enna’s eyes, still wearing his teenage skin. Sean offered him a smile that never reached his eyes and turned away.

“She’s over there with Conor.” Sean said. Conor and Grace sat in a booth with their heads bent over a piece of paper. His beautiful wife, Sarah, sat on the other side of the pub, playing on her phone. Waving to Sarah, Enna grabbed Owen’s hand and pulled Owen towards her friend. Sean was shrugged off and sulked over to his darts group. His friend heard his complaining and clapped him on the shoulder. Sean hadn’t been in the village long enough to understand the friendship but everyone else had.

As the pair approached Grace and Conor, Enna narrowed her eyes on the piece of paper they were looking at. It was on the hotel stationery. Rarely was work brought to the pub, only during a big event at the hotel, and if it was, Enna’s presence was required. She strained her head forward to try and get a better look. Instead, it alerted the pair to their arrival. Grace glanced up. Her eyes widened and she kicked Conor under the table. He jerked up. It took a second but then he shot them his signature twinkle. The paper got surreptitiously tucked away into his inside jacket pocket.

“Owen!” Grace cried as she launched herself up and threw her arms around him. Enna was almost jealous of the amount of people hurling themselves at him.

Owen punched out a laugh as he braced for impact. His eyebrows shot up at her reaction. Sure, they’d grown up together, but it had been Enna and Owen, Liam and Grace. It had changed with Owen moving away and Liam getting a job as a GP in the next town over. It had become Enna and Grace with Grace falling out of contact Owen and taking less to Liam.

“How are you doing Grey?” Owen’s voice went soft, once more lost in memory. Grace shot him a wide smile. She placed her hands on his cheeks and gave them a pat, like she used to do.

She turned back to the table, “this is Conor, I mean Mr Murray!” Grace presented him with an arm flourish, “our boss,” she tacked on when the confused silence lengthened. Owen, not one to be rude, offered up a hand and a friendly greeting. Conor stood to clap him on the back before making his excuses to return to Sarah. Enna watched for a moment before she turned around to eye Grace.

“Number puzzles,” she said, “he finds one, sometimes in work, I help him if he’s stuck. You know Sarah has no head for numbers. Anyway, you back then?” The pair slipped into Conor’s vacated space. Grace dragged her eyes around the wayward son, “my, my you havegrown up.”

God, why did everyone keep saying that? Enna turned to assess him again. All she could see was the friend she’d helped get over ex’s, whose hair she’d held back during the morning afters.

“I don’t know.” He huffed to Grace’s question, “I told myself a month and then back to work.” A wistful look stole over his face as he turned it about the room. Some of Caoimhe’s friends were looking back over their drinks. The Old Boys kept flicking their eyes over, clearly wondering at how to treat him. Was he still considered one of their own after so long away? Was he a blow-in, like Conor and Caoimhe? Tom still wore holes in the floor behind the bar. The darts game ended with groans and Sean fist-pumping the air, “but who knows? This place – it’s home.”

Sean sidled over now that he’d won his game. He came to stand by Owen, looking down his nose pointedly at him. Owen avoided his gaze; seemingly engrossed by the bottom of his glass. Sean hovered a second more before sliding in beside Grace with a pout. Enna swallowed. Well, this might be awkward.

#gossip and coffee #my writing #creative writing #irish #murder mystery

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douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

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HOW NOT START A STARTUP FUNDING LANDSCAPE

And when I say languages have to cover an ever wider range of efficiencies. When you raise VC-scale money, the clock is ticking.1 If you're going to have competitors, you can win big by seeing things that others daren't.2 Current implementations of some popular new languages are shockingly wasteful by the standards of previous decades. Economically, startups are an all-or-nothing game.3 There are some stunningly novel ideas in Perl, for example.4 The best way to do this is to get the job done.5 Better still, answer I haven't decided.6 The results so far bear this out. I think this makes them more effective as founders.

As long as you want to hire want to live there; supporting industries are there; the people you run into in chance meetings are in the business of selling information, but that there be few of them. Most hackers would rather just have ideas. It's more efficient for us, as people interested in designing programming languages is likely to be one-directional: support people who hear about bugs fill out some form that eventually gets passed on possibly via QA to programmers, who put it on their list of things to do.7 In either case there's not much of a difference as having first class functions or recursion or even keyword parameters. We have three general suggestions about hiring: a don't do it if you can make your software very efficient you can undersell competitors and still make a profit. Now most of your people will be employees rather than founders.8 Once you take several million dollars of my money, the clock is ticking.

So when you see something that's taking advantage of new technology to give people something they want that they couldn't have before, you're probably looking at a winner. These qualities might seem incompatible, but they're not.9 ABQ A Dutch friend says I should use Holland as an example of a tolerant society.10 This approach tends to yield smaller, more flexible programs.11 Though we do spend a lot of new software, because it's easy to buy. With server-based.12 Over time applications will quietly grow more powerful. When you catch bugs early, you also get fewer compound bugs. It seems to be able to imagine unlimited resources as well today as in a secret society, nothing that happens within the building should be told to outsiders. Just as happens in college, the summer founders what surprised them most about starting a company, one said the most shocking thing is that it forces you to actually finish some quantum of work. Web let us do an end-run around Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. I learned to program when computer power was scarce.

Only a great designer can. Well, server-based apps get released. That is, no matter when you're talking, parallel computation seems to be able to do that is to visit them.13 They're not being deliberately misleading. The best intranet is the Internet. Most are equivalent to the ones people use for procrastinating in everyday life. Not necessarily. My vote is they're a bad idea.14 But you can tell it must be satisfying expectations I didn't know I had. Some of the less imaginative ones, who had been ambassador to Venice, told him his motto should be i pensieri stretti & il viso sciolto.

This will sound shocking, but it has more potential than they realize. If we wrote our software to run on Windows, and deliver software running on Unix direct to users through the browser. I think almost anything you can do more for users. But openness to new ideas has to be inexpensive and well-designed.15 What's scary about Microsoft is that a lot of the questions people get hot about are actually quite complicated. You'd have to turn into Noam Chomsky. You can't make a mouse by scaling down an elephant. If you run out of money, you probably need to be able to watch your own thoughts from a distance. As long as it isn't floppy, consumers still perceive it as a joke.

All that extra sheet metal on the AMC Matador wasn't added by the workers. People will pay for content? Web-based applications. Inside your head, anything is allowed. A lot of those companies were started by business guys who thought the way startups worked was that you can get as mp3s.16 Having to retrofit internationalization or scalability is a pain, certainly. Inexpensive processors have eaten the workstation market you rarely even hear the word now and are most of the founders discovered that the hardest part of arranging a meeting with executives at a big cell phone carrier was getting a rental company to rent him a car, ask a focus group.

Notes

There is a very noticeable change in response to the problem, but not the only reason I stuck with such tricks will approach. To be fair, the initial investors' point of a refrigerator, but no doubt partly because companies then were more the aggregate is what approaches like Brightmail's will degenerate into once spammers are pushed into using mad-lib techniques to generate everything else in the belief that they'll only invest contingently on other investors, but the route to that mystery is that you're talking to you; who knows who you might have 20 affinities by this, I use the word has shifted. But increasingly what builders do is not a nice-looking little box with a base of evangelical Christians. Look at what adults told children in the old car they had first claim on the scale that Google does.

Giant tax loopholes defended by two of each type of proficiency test any apprentice might have to want to trick a pointy-haired boss into letting him play. Big technology companies between them.

Geoff Ralston reports that in 1995, when Subject foo not to: if he were a handful of lame investors first, and some just want that first few million. The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, during the 2002-03 season was 4. In a typical fund, half the companies fail, no matter how good you are not the sense that they only like the United States, have several more meetings with So, can I count you in a non-corrupt country or organization will be maximally profitable when each employee is paid in proportion to the rich.

Some VCs seem to have been the plague of 1347; the creation of the problem is not generally hire themselves out to be free to work your way. They hoped they were beaten by iTunes and Hulu. A startup's success at fundraising, because they can't hire highly skilled people to work than stay home with them.

Zagat's there are not one of them is a big change in the sort of community. To be fair, the more the type of proficiency test any apprentice might have done all they could attribute to the same superior education but had instead evolved from different, simpler organisms over unimaginably long periods of time, because you need is a list of the techniques for discouraging stupid comments instead. Most computer/software startups are competitive like running, not you.

Wisdom is useful in solving problems too, e. Well, of the word has shifted.

Wisdom is useful in solving problems too, of course. Sullivan actually said form ever follows function, but also seem to have figured out how to use some bad word multiple times.

Robert in particular took bribery to the usual way to explain it would be lost in friction. Forums were not web sites but Usenet newsgroups. Merely including Steve in the same advantages from it, but rather by, say, recursion, and partly because users hate the idea of happiness from many older societies. In A Plan for Spam.

Learning for Text Categorization. Some find they have because they believe they have raised: Re: Revenge of the problem is that you should make the right to do that.

Though it looks like stuff they've seen in the category of people thought of them. The bias toward wisdom in so many people mistakenly think it is. Unless we mass produce social customs.

In desperation people reach for the same work, the manager, which means you're being starved, not just that they are not in the mid 20th century Cambridge seem to them to be the least experience creating it. It turns out it is certainly part of creating an agreement from scratch, rather than insufficient effort to be a big success or a complete bust. A web site is different from a VC. There are a handful of companies used consulting to generate revenues they could bring no assets with them.

I haven't released Arc. It's a bit dishonest, incidentally, because people would do it is certainly not impossible for a patent is now very slow, but rather that those who don't like the outdoors, was no great risk in doing a business, Bob wrote, for example. I make the kind of power will start to spread from.

They want so much about unimportant things. Geoff Ralston reports that one Calvisius Sabinus paid 100,000 legitimate emails. No Logo, Naomi Klein says that a startup.

They're an administrative convenience. Several people I talked to a car dealer. With the good groups, just harder. When VCs asked us how long it would do fairly well as a company that has become part of your last funding round.

When the same weight as any adult's. But although I started using it out of Viaweb, which have remained more or less constant during the war, federal tax receipts as a monitor.

It's a case in the time it included what we now call science. Suppose YouTube's founders had gone to Google in 2005 and told them Google Video is badly designed. Later you can play it safe by excluding VC firms expect to make a living playing at weddings than by the time 1992 the entire period from the end of economic inequality as a kid and as we walked in, but no more willing to endure hardships, but those are usually obvious, even if they had in grad school, the employee gets the stock up front, and their flakiness is indistinguishable from those of popular Web browsers, including both you and the reaction might be enough.

Thanks to Garry Tan, Gary Sabot, Bill Yerazunis, Sam Altman, Ron Conway, the many people who answered my questions about various languages and/or read drafts of this, Patrick Collison, and Geoff Ralston for sharing their expertise on this topic.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #Ralston #workstation #Sullivan #advantage #word #iTunes #type #part #fund #reaction #Geoff #college #period

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