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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

Text

little mystery

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: tattoos, alcohol consumption, gambling/betting money, mild swearing (i actually don't think there is any but just in case), baby spence!!, no smut/or implied smut but it reads a little dirty (so i’m gonna rate this 18+ anyway) Word Count: 1.8k Summary: Bets are placed to see who can be the first to figure out the secret location of your tattoo, and what the tattoo is.

A/N: i was browsing pinterest for my next ink inspiration (the whole country is currently in lockdown, but a girl can dream), when i stumbled across a particular tattoo, featured in this fic, and this idea just came to me ah i hope you ENJOY!

“A recent study concluded that people with tattoos are more likely to be so called experience seekers, and they tend to lean more towards rebellious, non-conforming lifestyles.” Spencer stated glancing between the group. His eyes lingering a little longer on you. “Research also shows, people who choose to get tattooed feel a stronger need to claim their identity and stand out from the crowd.”

Derek chuckled while taking a sip of his drink. “Kid, not everyone that has a tattoo is an attention seeker or a criminal. Many who get inked lead perfectly normal and stable lives.”

“It’s a form of self expression.” Morgan continued. “It doesn't necessarily mean people with multiple tattoos are wildings. I mean look at Y/N, she’s got like ten and she's far from a non-conformist.”

All heads turned in your direction.

“Ten is an over exaggeration Morgan.” You replied with a light giggle before looking directly at Spencer. “It’s eight. I have eight tattoos.” You said shooting him a smile. A mix of intrigue quickly spread across his features.

Of course, he was aware you had a couple of tattoos. Like the tiny heart on your left index finger. The crescent moon just above your right elbow. Or the rose on the inside of your left bicep. Given that the two of you were similar in age, the young doctor didn't think you would have that many.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a huge difference.” He teased, granting Penelope to nudge him in the arm. The bubble blonde then turned to you. “You have eight tattoos?” She asked with a raised brow. “How come I didn't know this about you? I know everything.”

“Because you never asked me and eight really isn't that much. Plus they’re all pretty simple and dainty. Well... actually... all apart from the snake slithering between my boobs.” You responded nonchalantly causing the males at the table to simultaneously choke on their drinks.

The girls all whistled before erupting into laughter at the suddenly red faces of the three boys. Hotch stared silently at the half-empty class in his hands, Derek nervously cleared his throat, while Spencer gaped at you completely wide-eyed.

The image you just painted circulating in his mind.

“Don’t be shy, tell us, any other risqué body art?” Emily chimed once the laughter died down.

“Uhm, there is one but I really don't think it’s appropriate to share.” You answered, a sly smile circling your lips. JJ and Emily both groaned at your response. “Now you have too!” The blonde exclaimed, but you just shook your head.

“Only a handful of people know what it is, and where it is.” Your eyes locked briefly with the brunette doctor sat across from you. Not enough time for anyone at the table to notice, but enough to get him a tiny bit flustered.

“What if we guessed?” Emily enquired, her eyes sparkling mischievously. You giggled. “If one of you manages to guess both what and where it is, I will tell you whether you’re correct.”

“I want in on this little bet.” Derek chimed confidently. “I can get you talkin’ hot stuff.” He shot you a playful wink and took another sip of his drink. Hotch snickered next to him. “I wouldn't be so certain Morgan.” “Oh, and you think you can?” Derek asked sarcastically. “Maybe.” Hotch poised, shrugging his shoulders.

“Right.” JJ clapped her hands. “Let’s make this interesting. Everyone that wants to take part place a ten dollar bet on themselves, and the winner will take the pot.” She turned to you. “We’ll give you the money for safekeeping and once one of us guesses correctly, you can rightfully pass the cash onto that person.”

“Sounds good to me.” You replied with a grin. “But what if none of you guess? Who keeps the money then?” “Do you forget who you work with? We’re FBI agents, profilers, one of us is bound to figure it out.” Morgan stated making you giggle.

“Okay, if you say so.”

“Oh! And whoever wins gets to see this mysterious ink of yours.” Emily added teasingly.

Just like that a pile of cash formed in the middle of the table. You reached out to grab it when a hand slowly slid across with a neatly folded ten dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes snapped up to meet the determined gaze of none other than the resident genius.

“I want to take part too.” He said, trying his best not to appear jittery. The grin currently embellishing your features swelled, and Spencer took note of the devilish sparkle in your eyes. “Well all right.” You responded, fingers brushing lightly against his as you retrieved the money. An instant spark tingled through both you and Spencer.

The night carried on. You were bombarded with questions that would give the team any sort of clue as to what the tattoo could be, but you didn't budge. It was a lot more fun seeing your friends struggle. The only person that didn't say anything further on the matter was the young doctor sat across from you. In true Spencer Reid fashion, he simply listened and observed.

About an hour later, he accompanied you to the bar for another round of drinks. After ordering for everyone, you quickly glanced at him. “What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” You asked causing him to break away from his thoughts and turn his attention to you. He lightly scrunched his nose.

“I’m just wondering when is the most appropriate time to tell everyone what your secret tattoo is.”

Your mouth parted ever in shock, eyes widened. “There is no way you know.”

“Actually, I not only know what and where it is. I also know when you got it and why.” He stated confidently.

“Alright then, tell me.” You challenged taking a step towards him. Spencer stiffened for a brief moment. Your sudden closeness caused the heat to rush to his face and his heart to skip a beat. All he could do was hope you didn't notice; which of course you did.

With a raised brow and your fingers tapping lightly on the wooden bar, you waited for Spencer to respond. You were about to say something like, ‘See, I knew you were bluffing.’, but he cleared his throat. Regaining his confidence.

“It’s the word ‘bite’ written in cursive on your ehm, on your left b-buttcheek. And you got it your freshmen year of university as a result of a drunken game of truth or dare with your friends. I believe it was either getting the tattoo or shaving your head.” He was, of course, correct. Every word.

You stared at him in disbelief. This you definitely did not expect. Spencer on the other hand seemed quite pleased with himself. It’s not often he’s the one to rattle you.

“H-how, how did you-” You shook your head. “You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know.” Your lips twirled into a smile. “Congratulations doctor.” Without really thinking, you leaned in closer and placed a soft kiss on his cheek causing once again for the blood to rush to his face. Once you pulled away, his hand immediately travelled to the spot.

“What, uhm, what was that for?” He asked and you shrugged. “An extra prize considering it didn't even take you ninety minutes to win. I hope that was okay?” He quickly nodded his head. “Ye-a, yes.” “Good.” And with that you kissed his cheek again.

He couldn't help but grin proudly as the two of you ambled back to the table, each holding a tray of drinks.

“What’s got you so happy, kid?” Morgan asked, drawing attention to Spencer’s expression.

“Spencer just won your little bet.” You replied, placing the tray down and reaching into your purse for the money. Although his win was definitely part of the reason for his increased good mood, it had more to do with the spot on his cheek that was still tingling from your kiss. But he’d never say that out loud.

Gasps of shock echoed through the team. “What?! There is no way he’s won already!” JJ exclaimed. “He cheated. Did you give him extra hints because you have a soft spot for him?” Emily accused, narrowing her eyes.

“Nope.” Your mouth popped. “He definitely won fair and square.” You stated before shifting your body weight to look the young doctor. Smiling, you handed him his winnings. He didn't hesitate to take them, eyes never leaving yours.

“Well pretty boy, what is it?!” Derek enquired eagerly. Spencer waited for you to nod your head before turning to address the team. He revealed the design and location of your secret tattoo in one breath as you watched, finding their reactions amusing.

“How did you figure that out?” Penelope asked.

“A little mystery never hurt.” You chimed before Spencer got a chance to respond, and proceeded to intertwine your fingers with his. His head snapped first down at your glued hands, and then up at your face. He wanted to ask what was happening, completely forgetting what else the winning prize entailed, as you were leading him away from the table.

Morgan and Emily whistled after the two of you, the rest of the group laughing.

It wasn't until you were walking into the bathroom, locking the door behind, that the realisation hit Spencer. He swallowed his breath and opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

You quickly noticed the nervous look on his face. “We don't have to do this if you don't want to. If you’re uncomfortable.” You said in your usual kind and caring tone.

“No, uhm, it’s okay. B-but if you don't want to?” He mumbled. “I don’t have to see it if you don’t want to show me, or anyone for that matter. We can just pretend.”

You smiled at him, your hands travelling to the zipper of your jeans. “A bet’s a bet, and like I said, you won fair and square.”

“Y-you, are you sure you don't want to know how I figured it out?” Spencer asked, voice breaking. The palms of his hands began to sweat. He wasn't sure where to look. Did you want him looking directly at you? Or was he supposed to keep his attention on something else until you were ready to show the tattoo?

“A little mystery never hurt.” You repeated what you said earlier to the group and pulled your pants down, just low enough to display the tattoo in question.

Spencer’s gaze landed on the writing. At this point his heart was hammering inside of his chest, and he was sure it would explode any second. His eyes widened as he slowly licked his lips. He was sure this was the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Do you like it?” A seemingly innocent question, although the intention behind it was anything but.

Spencer nodded his head. “I-I...y-es, I do.” His eyes gradually moved up your body until they once again locked with your gaze. His pupils now flared.

A mischievous smirk escaped your mouth. “I always knew you had a naughty side, doctor.”

spencer reid taglist: spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner

masterlist

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #little mystery fic

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fabricated-misslieness · 3 years

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Miles Morales x artistic! male reader

How does this turn into two fics like wth.

The reader from this fic and the last fic are essentially the same, but you can make the whole villain thing nonexistent in this one.

Pre-established relationship

Reader is a traditional artist and enjoys classical music.

Inspired by Summer Salt - One Last Time

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 1015

“Thi-This is my room.” You stutter out. It was clear you were nervous.

It was Miles’s first time in your room, the one in your parents’ house. Of course, your boyfriend was nervous too, especially meeting your parents, but seeing your bedroom eased him temporarily. Needless to say, it was way more your style than your dorm at the academy was.

His eye was first caught by the easel near the window. “Wow, I didn’t know you painted this well! I mean, of course you do, that’s not what I meant, I--”

You don’t have an easel in your dorm. First of all, you had a roommate you had to share with. Second, the room was really small, the only space was the walkway.

“It’s fine, Miles.” You laugh. Your eyes light up at the unfinished painting still sitting on the easel. Chances are you wouldn’t finish it, since the inspiration was gone, but who knows? Miles could help with that.

“You need this many brushes?” He joked, gesturing towards the many, many cups of mismatched brushes.

“Brushes are important. Half of those have dried paint on them, though.” You grimace.

“I don’t need brushes in graffiti.” He comments rather smugly, which makes you roll your eyes.

Miles has another look over your room, eyes finally landing on your collection of vinyl records. “Wow, you got records too?” He’d grown up listening to his family’s vinyl records, so new ones always sparked an interest in him. “Can I check them out?”

“Mhm.” You hum a yes.

Miles thoroughly explores your collection, finding that he hasn’t heard most of them before. It was exciting to hear new ones, but sort of awkward at the same time, if he was with someone else.

He didn’t count doing something like reading a book or painting while listening to music as listening to the music for the first time, since your attention would be somewhere else.

To listen to music for the first time was also to appreciate it.

Something he did often to appreciate music was dance to it, but he couldn’t dance to it alone. For one, it’d be weird to have you stand next to him while he dances. Second, they all seemed like old songs you’d dance to with… a partner, a romantic partner. He flushes at the thought.

“Something wrong, Miles?” You ask. Your face was covered in worry.

“N-No, not at all. I uh--” He takes a deep breath, searching frantically through the records for the one he found most interesting. When he finally does, he turns to you with a small nervous smile. “Would you care to dance with me?”

You let out a small laugh. “I believe the term is ‘Would you care for a dance’.”

Miles shrugs, “There’s barely any difference!”

You shake your head with another laugh. “That’s one of my favorites, but it's a slow dance song.” You point at the vinyl he’s holding.

“Oh.” His humorous mood dies down slowly. He’d slow danced before, at his middle school prom. He was absolutely terrible at it.

“Do you want to pick something else?” He shakes his head in response. If it was one of your favorites, then you’d have fun dancing it. Maybe it was a song he’d like too.

“Just.. show me how to dance.” He takes the vinyl and sets it to play on the turntable.

He takes a deep breath, earning himself a laugh from you. “You’ll be fine.” You give a reassuring smile. He nods and lets you take the lead.

You lead his arm to your shoulder, taking the other in your hold and putting yours on his hip. The simple position brings shivers down his spine.

“If anything goes wrong, we can just sway. Let’s teach you the slow step, every time you…”

He’s terrible, just like his middle school dance. When he’s not stepping on your foot, he’s stumbling over his own toes. He’s sure to leave bruises on both yours and his feet.

Thanks to your guidance, he was at least able to slow step without tripping, which was better than middle school. To your dismay, you weren’t able to do anything extravagant like spin him around or dip him without so much as a trip on his end.

“Sorry.” Miles whispers in shame.

“It’s okay,” You kiss him on the nose to lighten his mood. “I didn’t expect you to get this the first time anyway.” He sighs, hiding his head in the crook of your neck, which he’d been doing for most of the song because of embarrassment. Despite your reassurance, he felt upset.

The song ends and you move to change it, but he pulls you into a sway in silence. In the end, he wasn’t able to appreciate the song, since he was too focused on learning how to dance.

You squeeze his hips to make him look up at you. “You did great.”

Miles shakes his head in defeat.

You frown, cupping his cheek with one hand. “Trust me. You did well. You’re wonderful, beautiful, handsome..” You continue to spew out compliments until he stops you.

“Alright, alright.” He laughs, finally smiling.

You stare into each other’s eyes for a while, before he takes initiative and kisses you. It’s a slow kiss that feels like it lasts for ages, but it brings him comfort.

You pull back when you hear a knock at your door, but it’s not long before one of your parents opens it.

You would’ve separated sooner if your parent had given you the time.

“Oh, oh, hi kids yeah uh… Dinner’s almost ready.” They scramble to get out of the room before they embarrass you further.

Miles groans, burying his head into your neck again. “That was so embarrassing.”

“At least it wasn’t like your dad.” You both grimace at the memory. “He really thought we would--”

“Ey!” Miles interrupts, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t mention that.”

You raise your arms in surrender, though Miles still hangs onto your neck with his own. “I wasn’t, I wasn’t! I would never.”

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x male reader #spider-verse x reader #spider-verse x male reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man x male reader #fluff #spider-verse fanfiction #craving fic

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borea-liss · 3 years

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Chapter One

⇨ Dragonborn!Todoroki x Tribe Chief Descendant!Reader

⇨ An AU in which Reader is apart of a tribe that lives to fight against a mythical group they call the Ice Dragons. One day, the Reader’s tribe fellows bring in a young man - an alleged Dragonborn, descended from their worst enemy. The young chief in line, whose heart is too compassionate to kill an innocent, convinces the raging tribe to keep him alive for research purposes, while they set out to free the captive, but the story turns out to be much more complicated than what they thought it would be...

⇨ Reader’s Quirk: Groundbreaker - the ability to bend and manipulate earth and rock in all of their varieties (think Earthbending). The Quirk’s drawback is incredible soreness and temporary muscle paralysis after prolonged usage.

Disclaimer: Characters are all aged up. The story doesn't follow the exact plot of the manga/anime, although it has some elements incorporated (ofc, it's fanfiction)

Taglist: @fukyouthink @midnighttflowers

Thank you for expressing interest in my story!

"A long, long time ago, our lands were roamed by enormous creatures, scaled and glistening like fresh snow, cold as death and breathing frost. Nobody knows where they came from, but they were ruthless, bringing eternal winter wherever they went. Our kind was starving, slowly freezing to death, too small and weak to chase away the Ice Dragons," multiple pairs of doe eyes, brimmed with curiosity, stalked your hands moving over the fire, dark shadows dancing upon the walls of your enormous tent. "That was until a man that could wield fire came along. His flame was bright and carried hope, sparking the will to fight in the hearts of men and women. He gathered the best fighters and fought the Ice Dragons, bringing them to the brink of extinction. This era of peace and prosperity we owe to him."

You adjusted the Scroll of Myths in your lap, "Or so the legends tell."

"(Name)-nee, are the Dragons going to hurt us?"

"No, sweet little Eri!" you cradled the little girl's head close to your chest. "I don't believe they're evil. Stories need villains and they were victims of circumstances. They're not going to hurt you."

She gave you all her attention, tiny hands firmly grasping the front of your robe.

"Besides, they've been gone for decades." you smoothed her hair back and pressed a kiss to the little horn on the side of her forehead. "Many believe Chief councils Todoroki and Yagi have driven the last of them away. Only time could tell."

Eri was still cradled in your arms as you stood up, ushering the other kids to follow you. "And right now I'm convinced time tells me you little doves should be in your beds. Let's go."

After the kids were tucked away and knocked out like a light, you returned to put away your scrolls, only to find your best friends Midoriya and Uraraka grinning like idiots.

"Ah, did you clean up for me?"

"Yeah, no big deal!" Uraraka placed a cup of steaming hot tea in your hands. "You put the kids to bed so I thought it'd be nice to do this instead. Do you wanna come stargazing with us?"

You sipped your drink, pretending to be deep in thought. Uraraka's expression was slowly shifting to one of disappointment and you couldn't help but crack a grin, "Of course I'm coming! But it's gotta be quick. You two are on hunting duty tomorrow and I have matters to discuss with the council."

Midoriya wiggled his green eyebrows at you. "But of course, fellow chief council successor. We absolutely can not fall off behind your schedule, hurr durr- Uck!"

"DEKU, ARE YOU OKAY??"

"Next time, drink your tea with more caution instead of taunting my habits, Izuku," you gave him a strong slap on the back. "Let's go."

"Oi, dumbass, think you can land me a hand?"

"It's (Name), not dumbass, Katsuki," you angled the movement of your foot, protruding a rock with your Quirk. The surprised yelp was enough to tell you had hit Bakugou's shin successfully. "We've been friends for 16 years, c'mon now."

"Yea, yea, fine, just stop bruising me with your rocky shit, you're like Kirishima in a way- OW OW OW OKAY STOP IT!!"

You merely rolled your eyes at his yells, instead taking the scroll from his hands.

"So what they want us to do is build a ramp for a new training area," you rolled the sketch and put it away.

"Precisely, Chief Aizawa said it needs to be done by tomorrow." Bakugou looked over the flat terrain. "I suggest we split the work, you do the ramp with your Quirk and I'll arrange the dummies. Kaminari and Yaoyorozu will do the rest."

"On it, boss. Shouldn't take long."

After half an hour you proudly stood in front of a large arena resembling an octagon shape. Bakugou nodded in approval and wordlessly dismissed you, already preparing to nail down the sparring dummies.

As you judged by the position of the sun, the hunters should be returning in a bit over an hour, which gave you plenty of time before lunch to pick up the new book Chief Aizawa gave you several nights ago. He promised there was plenty of information about the Dragons, even accompanied by illustrations and schemes.

Well, he certainly wasn't wrong, you thought, sparkling orbs peering down at the worn-out pages. Frankly, you didn't know when your fascination with the Ice Dragons began. When you were little and the Chiefs told you legends around the campfire, you thought you'd get to see a real dragon when you grow up. There wasn't much known about them after the first fire-yielder, Todoroki someone allegedly drove away the creatures. His descendant and a current Chief of the Tribe Council, Todoroki Enji, along with another Chief, were supposed to have defeated the last few Ice Dragons.

It saddened you - never getting to observe their habits, learn about them, and document their existence for future generations. All they'd get would be from legends and the book you were currently flipping through - the only one describing the Ice Dragons in-depth - or at least as much as possible.

Your right hand froze as the last page you turned settled down with a quiet rustle. "Dragonborns?"

Now that was something you had never seen before. The section of the book depicted images of humans with skin partially covered in scales. Straight white locks cascaded over their shoulders and you shuddered at the piercing gray eyes that stared back at you from the pages. The script said it was possible for Ice Dragons to acquire a human form and if they made love to a human, hybrids could be born. They inherited the ice powers of their scaled parents and the form of their human ones.

You couldn't wait to tell your friends about this.

"Incredible!" Yaoyorozu Momo exclaimed, her spoon clattering on the table. You had just finished explaining your discovery to those gathered for lunch.

Uraraka and Midoriya weren't back from hunting yet, but you couldn't wait for their return and then tell everyone about the book.

"Incredible indeed! I would've never imagined an Ice Dragon and a human can be together. The Dragonborn are resistant to extreme cold, most winter illnesses, and frostbites, but their bodies are fragile when near fire. Also-"

The horn announcing the hunting team's return cut you off abruptly. As you were about to resume, yells and shouts gathered everyone's attention. Glances were exchanged between the people on your table and in no time you were on the move to find out what was happening.

Near the Tribe Council tent, several people were gathered in a circle, hiding from sight whatever was in the middle. You quickly recognized Midoriya's signature green hair and elbowed yourself a place next to him.

"Deku, what's all this commotion about-"

"Scales!!" Mina shouted and you snapped your head in her direction.

Kneeling in front of you was a young man around your age. His hair was split in the middle, half red and half pure white. He seemed tattered and had no shirt on, iron chains shackled around his wrists. Iridescent scales covering his shoulders, parts of his back, and as much as you could see from his wrists. Frost was beginning to form on the links of the chains and you couldn't help but yell when the facts clicked inside your head.

The sound made the unknown guy avert his head to you, heterochromatic eyes piercing through your own. One was a sparkling turquoise, and for some reason, he had a huge scar over the left side of his face, but the other eye resembled a glassy gray, just like the ones you had studied earlier.

The most prominent features of a Dragonborn.

oh whew, this took a bit to write. i have the whole fic mapped out - but it took me three days to come up with a starting chapter. dumb.

i hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing this!

word count: 1,030

#todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shoto #bnha imagines #bnha shoto todoroki #bnha shoto x reader #mha todoroki #mha fic #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki fanfic #bnha fanfiction

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gffa · 4 years

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Hi! There are some excellent Obi-Wan and/or Ahsoka fics in the fandom! Not all of them will necessarily feature a ton of interaction between the characters, but you will have a ton of reading material if you just enjoy reading about the characters! I have a long archive of fic recs here, where any given list will give you at least something to check out for both characters! But if you want to hit up some of the Must Read Firsts, LET ME HELP WITH THAT. OBI-WAN & AHSOKA: A Future in Crisis by WolfMarauder is a fic where Ahsoka has a vision of the terrible future to come, so she returns to the Jedi, works through her feelings and starts working on saving the rest of the galaxy. At it’s heart it’s very much an Ahsoka story, about her figuring herself and her relationships out, as much as it is about being a fix-it fic. There’s such a warmth and charm to this fic that it’s like being in a warm bath and relaxing into it. There’s very much a plot going on here, a complicated relationship with Anakin because of Everything, but it’s balanced with something that feels really, really good to read. The Journey of the Lights by Pandora151 is a fic that I got sucked into and couldn’t stop until I’d finished the first one, because it’s a Canon Divergent AU where things go just a little differently, things snowball, and it’s painful but so good and ultimately I think things end up in a better place. Another great fic if you want plot, super satisfying confrontations that have been building for ages, and a progression towards things changing, in a way that’s often not easy, but works. Chosen, not assigned by Lysore is one where, ultimately, Anakin and Ahsoka’s relationship became absolutely incredible and Yoda was right about how good they were for each other, but what would it have been like if things were nudged a little to the left and she’d been chosen by Obi-Wan instead? That she’d felt directly wanted from the beginning instead? And it’s a lovely piece that explores that! Tano and Kenobi by FireflyFish is a time travel fic with Ahsoka going back to the past, taking a young Obi-Wan as her Padawan instead. The fic is admittedly pretty hard on Qui-Gon, as well as their dynamic is different here because this is an Obi-Wan who is not yet an adult, but Ahsoka is, so they’re very changed from how they were before. But it’s two and a half novels worth of plot and development and fun and angst and action! It’s an incredibly written fic and does so much to really build up what it’s going for and really earns the massive changes it’s making. Fishy is an amazing writer and I love the wide span of dynamics she gets into this story, so many different relationships, even as Ahsoka & Obi-Wan is the central one! PLUS TIME TRAVEL FIX IT FIC, YESSS. Declarations by Nny11 is a series of scenes exploring Obi-Wan and Ahsoka’s relationship and I always like anything I read by this author. I haven’t finished this one yet, but I’ve enjoyed what I’ve read of Close But No Cigar (Ahsoka-centric fic where the timeline is changed a little and she’s Yoda’s Padawan instead and it spirals out from there) and Let's Try This Again with a time-traveling Ahsoka in toddler form (so it’s more Obi-Wan & Anakin & Ahsoka) is probably my favorite of the author’s! Waiting and Learning by otherhawk is a lovely piece for Obi-Wan & Ahsoka that’s balanced between hilarious antics and the more painful aspects of what it means to be a psychic space wizard who wants to help people. There’s such kindness here, even as it aches, in a way that’s very deftly done. The Only Way Through by victoria_p (musesfool) is a shorter piece, but has this really well done balance between the familiarity between them and yet how they’ve both grown so much older, during Obi-Wan’s time on Tatooine. There’s so much pain in the background, but that doesn’t mean there’s not still moments and sparks of light to be found, which is perfect for them. Under a purple sun... by Perspicacia is Obi-Wan helping Ahsoka with her homework and it’s short but so lovely, it does a fantastic job with their dynamic and weaves in a few really nice details about Jedi philosophy that are hinted at, and is just warm and charming exactly as it should be. The Ryloth Excursion by Icarus_is_flying is one I love, where Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are on Ryloth, where she asks some questions that don’t have easy answers (but aren’t awful questions, either), and Obi-Wan’s guidance as her grandmaster is absolutely wonderful. Knight-Errant by zinjadu is about three novels worth of fic, which doesn’t have a lot of them interacting directly, but Ahsoka is probably the most central character and Obi-Wan has a lot of scenes in it, plus SO MUCH PLOT. I’ve read about a third of the series so far and it’s incredibly engaging, where Ahsoka’s choice to stay with the Jedi helps shift things a little to the left, then a little more to the left, and suddenly everything is snowballing, all the same pieces we’re familiar with are in different places and maybe they might have a chance! It is Rex/Ahsoka eventually, but it’s a very slow burn to get there and it’s not the only relationship that’s important to them. It’s an Ahsoka piece and an ensemble piece and a fix it piece and a huge sprawling plot epic, and I’m loving it a lot. When Darkness Seems to Hide This Place by IllyanaA is another one where Obi-Wan and Ahsoka don’t interact directly a lot, but they’re both very present in the story and get some really excellent scenes. The Jedi manage to scrape a few more people together, Anakin doesn’t turn on them, so they’re still in the middle of a galaxy that’s hunting them down, but now they might be able to mount a fighting chance sooner than before. The Obi-Wan & Anakin scenes are stellar, Ahsoka gets her own subplot, and it’s a lot of really excellent plot as they figure out how to rebuild in this new Empire. Echoes of Mortis by orphan_account is more Obi-Wan & Anakin + Anakin & Ahsoka, but both are well done here, and the plot is excellent. It’s marked as incomplete, but I would say that it reaches a place of good resolution and I felt satisfied by the ending! In a Canon Divergent AU, where Anakin remembers everything that happened on Mortis, things go a little differently. Which is very, very much not the same as easier, but it does lead to better places, even when everything is painful and ouchy in the best ways. A lot of angst, but the kind I eat up with a spoon, it was so good. Obi-Wan and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad (Life) Day by orphan_account is charming and adorable, that Obi-Wan’s life day is beset upon him by the people who care about him and it’s just an absolute JOY to read. OBI-WAN KENOBI: Fire and Ice by Yesac is the one fic I always, always come back to, the one I keep rereading and the one I would put at the very top of my list of fics that I think really wrote Obi-Wan brilliantly. Oh, sure, there’s some stuff I disagree with, a few brief bits of the Jedi weren’t allowed to love or the like, but they’re extremely minor in a fic that shows otherwise. This is a fic where Anakin won the duel on Mustafar and kept Obi-Wan and Padme hostage both, unable to let either of them go. This is an Anakin who has this tremendous power but no core of self-understanding, so he’s legitimately unstable, you feel how fragile and cracked he is. In comparison, Obi-Wan is steady and unbreakable, even when he’s entirely human. This fic gets the balance of that, of who Obi-Wan is and how he relates to Anakin Skywalker, in that way that I can’t even be coherent about because it’s so well done. Yeah, I’m probably overhyping it, but this one is just my fucking jam. starbird by imaginarykat is the other fic that I always come back to as a fic that really gets Obi-Wan Kenobi, the mix of flirtation and humor and seriousness and insight and how he’s both direct and wily at the same time, that Anakin’s just kind of spun around by him when Obi-Wan really focuses on him. Yeah, wicked thing is the more popular one by this author (for good reason!) but I always love starbird for the one I can point to as a more canon-friendly version of Why I Love Obi-Wan Kenobi So Much. (Obikin.) The Dark Path Lit by Sun and Stars by A_Delicate_Fury is a brilliantly done time travel fic where Obi-Wan, Luke, Leia, and Han end up back in the past and even in just the smallest of gestures, this fic gets Obi-Wan, all the more so because it’s balancing a character who is both the General Kenobi of the war and the Old Ben of Tatooine as they suddenly find themselves occupying the same mental space! Cataclasm by dendral is another excellent fic that does right by Obi-Wan’s character, where he gets a vision of something and decides he needs to take another path in this terrible war they’ve all been dragged into. He takes Waxer along for the ride, going around the galaxy where the Force leads them, getting into batshit Jedi scrapes, trying his best to save people, and it’s this really beautifully done action fic, buddy fic, and examination of what the war has done to the Jedi and why it’s such a tragedy. The Living Force; Parables for Padawans by glorious_clio is a beautiful piece for both Obi-Wan as a character and for a story-within-a-story about what a Jedi fairy tale would be like. It does such a beautiful job of telling interesting stories, the kind that would be used to make generations of Jedi think and turn them over and find meaning in them, while also illustrating the deeper meaning of the lines that make up their most famous meditation mantra. Stunning work. Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi by stonefreeak is an ensemble piece, but it’s centered around Obi-Wan and is really great if you’re a fan of his character, where he has pretty much The Most Exasperating Day Ever and winds up elected as Supreme Chancellor of the Republic and then everything starts slowly inching towards the left, now that the Jedi and the good people of the Senate have some actual breathing room. It’s about what might have been possible in a galaxy with a little more good faith to go around, as well as a great look at Obi-Wan’s relationships with various characters. An absolute scream to read, but also a really delightful plot. Remedial Jedi Theology by MarbleGlove is a fic that is very much based on Legends, rather than on canon/George Lucas’ Star Wars, so you have to roll with that when you pick this fic up (which I find useful to note mainly in the context of those who find my recs useful/want a heads up, never really as a value judgement), but what you’ll get is an incredibly thoughtful, warm-hearted fic that I found to be incredibly engaging and charming. The entire fic is about Obi-Wan trying to figure out just how to train Anakin and how to fit him into the bigger structure of the Jedi Order, how to adjust himself and that structure to better fit his new Padawan and the other Jedi learners, but in a way that’s also about understanding why they’re set up the way they are, about how deeply caring they are, and how thoughtful they are. It’s a good faith look at the Jedi and a great look at Obi-Wan’s character. Reprise by Elfpen is another fic that I’m only a third of the way through so far (I’ve been hoarding it for awhile) but it has some absolutely stellar Obi-Wan characterization, who is someone that’s really Seen Some Shit, who feels kind of lost sometimes, who feels things very deeply, but who also has a kind of strength that allows him to continue rising above. It’s not that he’s untouchable by mortal feelings, but that he’s used to understanding himself, acknowledging himself, and working through what needs to be worked through. Combine this with some really stellar writing for Qui-Gon, for Obi-Wan’s younger self, for the other Jedi around him, for the plot, and it really is one of the best fics in the fandom. The Exchange by MissLearn is one of those that I absolutely fell in love with, where Obi-Wan and Anakin exchange places with their TPM and pre-ROTS selves, which leads to a lot of shit hitting the fan in a way that is forcing things to a head a little earlier, so they can deal with it in a way that they couldn’t in canon. It’s a great look at their relationship, both the beginning of it and the established one, as well as the glee of having them in different eras and seeing how they react/how the people around them react! The Hand Dealt by not paranoid enough is another favorite, where it’s about a simple twist that changes so much--instead of Qui-Gon going to Tatooine, it’s Obi-Wan who meets Anakin first, and that shifts everything to the left just enough that everything is so recognizable and yet different. It’s an engrossing read as things happen differently, some good and some bad, and it’s an amazing read. Though Lovers Be Lost by panharmonium is a shorter but absolutely fantastic look at Obi-Wan’s character. I love all of pan’s fic, The Mathematics of Repair and Take My Waking Slow are both great looks at Obi-Wan and Anakin’s early days, but I think the first one is a great starting place for a fan of his character, it’s beautifully written. After the Pillars Come Down by Virgo827 is a fic that deserves so much love because it’s one of those that, aside from the acknowledgement of Obikin, it could have fit right into an episode of The Clone Wars. It does a lovely job of Obi-Wan being level-headed and focused, but that something about Anakin makes him lose his mind a little, that Anakin is that one person that he finds it difficult to remain calm about, which speaks to how blind he was towards Anakin’s faults, because he loved that guy so much. It also has a real, genuine plot that’s a fantastic read, it has amazing Anakin moments, and it was an incredibly satisfying read. Equinox by lilyconrad is a fic I’ll never not be biased about, because it was written for me and tailored to my wants, but I genuinely hold this up as one of the best examinations of Obi-Wan’s character and his relationship with Anakin, as it moves from one of friends to one of lovers. It’s a look at what having Sith versions of themselves means for parallels and contrasts alike, what that forces Anakin and Obi-Wan to understand about themselves and their feelings towards the other. And it has a fantastic plot! Every chapter of this fic was one I wrote like three paragraphs of a rec for because it had such thought and care put into it, so it’s probably always and forever my #1 Obikin fic. Upfall by bell (belldreams) is a stellar Obikin read for both Obi-Wan and Anakin’s characters, where so much thought has gone into each chapter, as well as some incredibly building tension and breaking. This is a fic that is very, very aware of Anakin’s character arc in canon and the things he does there, as well as it’s an incredible look at Obi-Wan trying to balance his own boundaries, that he’s allowed to have his own internal world that’s not just about Anakin, versus that Anakin is the one he’ll always choose, even when he’s being a shit. Seed is another one I love (Anakin contracts a virus that means he needs to give Obi-Wan blowjobs and then, oh, no, feelings happen) that does an amazing job of looking at the characters and digging into the issues they have. bell really gets the both of them and these are incredible reads for them. Pas de Deux by Ghost_Owl is a lovely look at Obi-Wan and Anakin and Ahsoka. Well, it’s primarily Obi-Wan and Anakin, but it’s about Anakin’s relationship with Ahsoka in the background as well, shown through the lens of Obi-Wan & Anakin. I love this one because it’s about how difficult it is to balance that Obi-Wan was his Master, but is now his friend, that Anakin bends over backwards to lash out sometimes, instead of listening, instead of still accepting Obi-Wan’s guidance, but that they can muddle their way through to something good again. And its characterization is lovely, too! AHSOKA TANO: What We've Become by Vinyarie is probably my favorite Ahsoka fic, where the first one is an absolutely gorgeous look at her getting trapped on Malachor with Vader, where they have to depend on each other to live, which gives them time to breathe and then argue some more. The characterization for her is spot-on, where she is a grown woman who is settled in her own skin, that she still feels deeply but she has a hell of a grip on herself. That she may not be a Jedi anymore, but she still carries their teachings in her heart, and that strength of her sense of self is beautifully shown. The second fic is one where she visits Obi-Wan on Tatooine and I loved the conversation they have, as well as the digging into her character even further and what she really wants from here. time to change the road you’re on by wreckageofstars is time travel fic with Ahsoka and is another absolutely stellar look at her character, that it’s partly about her relationships with others (especially Anakin) but is also about her coming to understanding about everything around her and even herself somewhat. This is an older Ahsoka, the one who has settled into her own skin more, and it’s a beautiful look at her AND a time travel plot! Old Sins Cast Long Shadows by zarabithia is an AU where Anakin died in the fight against Palpatine and the galaxy has to continue on without him. Ahsoka takes up the job of protecting Padme on Tatooine, giving her time to heal from everything that’s happened, as well as Obi-Wan eventually joins them, and it’s a lovely look at Ahsoka’s character and the dull ache of Anakin being dead in this universe, but knowing that things are so, so much better here. Strange Meetings by gilestel is a beautiful post-Return of the Jedi scene between Ahsoka and Luke, where they don’t have much time to talk, but the potential of it and promise of it and just the immediacy of the moment are all lovely. memories like ashes at our feet by ambiguously is another shorter fic but a fantastic one where Ahsoka is stranded with an amnesiac Vader and has to walk the line between that this is something of her Anakin back, but also that this is still Darth Vader and he could regain his memories at any point. It’s aching and hopeful in all the right places. The Season's Rain by Bythoseburningembers is an absolute scream of a fic, where Lux and Steela and Saw join Ahsoka in the Jedi camp, where they get to see them in a more relaxed state and they are all a bunch of absolute CHILDREN. It’s one of those fics that could have been bordering on parody, but the strength of the writing and the charm of the characterizations instead makes it a fantastic look at the Jedi and clones being entirely relatable, being family to each other, and I love everyone in this, including Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. The Cave by Ria Talla (ronia) is one where absolutely fell in love with this gorgeous fic because it pulls off a dreamy mishmash of imagery and slipping from one memory/moment to the next beautifully, it does a gorgeous job of making Ahsoka feel unstuck in time after the events on Malachor. Which is wonderful in and of itself, but it lends such a great weight to the cost of traveling through the World Between Worlds as she did, that there’s a reason that it’s not a thing to use lightly, and it’s not punishment, but consequence all the same, as the fic says. It has some really great characterization for her, too.

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obikin #fic recs #star wars fic recs #long post

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chaos-monkeyy · 3 years

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hi i absolutely love your ben & jamie fics - if you were to write another instalment could you write tgem heing caught by someone

I know it's been an age since you sent this, but if you're still around - thank you!! And I wrote you a little something 😉 I hope you like it! 💙

(Yes this was absolutely set off by that Jamie in pajamas gifset I reblogged earlier today cause 😳 damn 😳)

Rated Explicit; full fic continues below the cut. Also on AO3!

…

“Boss got you working late again, has he?”

Digging through the deeper reaches of one of the massive filing cabinets and alone on the floor— or so he thought— Jamie startled violently at the voice coming from just behind him. He spun around to find DI Ben Jones leaning against one of the divider walls and regarding him with a pleased smirk.

“Jesus, Ben,” Jamie said with a huffed laugh, his heart still pounding in his chest even as a broad grin spread over his face. “Don’t sneak up on me like that— mmf—”

His half-hearted protest was cut off by Ben’s mouth, turned instead into a half-moan that probably wasn’t anywhere near as quiet as it should have been.

“I’ve missed you,” Ben finally murmured, nuzzling against Jamie’s cheek and pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Me too,” Jamie said, pulse still racing slightly… though possibly for different reasons, now. “I wasn’t expecting you till the weekend.”

“Got things wrapped up early,” Ben said, and then he was pulling Jamie back into a kiss again, all wet and heated and full of promises for more, and it took Jamie a while to remember exactly where the hell they were.

By the time it did sink in, Ben already had him with his back pressed to the wall beside the filing cabinet, one hand cupping his cheek and the other in a firm grip on his arse through his trousers.

“Shit— the cameras,” Jamie managed, flushing beet-red.

Ben just grinned at him. “Blind spot,” he said, nodding his head to the side. “But I’ll stop if you really want me to…”

He was— quite unfairly, if you asked Jamie— trailing his hand down Jamie’s body as he spoke; tracing lightly down Jamie’s neck, his chest, purposely brushing over his nipple through his shirt on the way down further still. Jamie shivered, biting back a groan as Ben’s fingers teased along the line of his belt… and then down.

“I… ahh—” Jamie was breathing hard, his hips twitching into Ben’s touch and his head spinning at the thrill of being touched, here, in the middle of the empty open office. He knew he should tell Ben to stop but he didn’t want to; couldn’t make himself say it. All he could focus on was the heat of Ben’s body on his, the stiff warmth of Ben’s cock pressing firmly against his thigh and the almost painfully light touch of Ben’s fingers stroking teasingly over his own rapidly-filling erection through his suit trousers. “Ben— fuck…”

“I’ve half a mind to get you off right now,” Ben murmured, low and heated. He buried his face in Jamie’s neck, inhaling sharply before sucking a hard kiss into Jamie’s skin just underneath his shirt collar. “Make a right mess of this lovely, sharp suit… What d’you think? Would you come for me? Right here?”

Jamie trembled, his breath coming in shaky half-pants as he tried to keep himself quiet with Ben mouthing at his throat, toying with his cock and sending sparks of need jolting up his spine.

“Yeah,” he heard himself say, all breathy and hoarse. “Yeah, I would.”

His breath caught as Ben squeezed him harder through his trousers, rubbing, tugging, stroking; hips rocking to rut himself idly against Jamie’s thigh. The feel of Ben’s mouth on his neck, teeth nipping and tongue swiping a line of wet heat over his skin before parting Jamie’s lips to press hot and slick into his mouth again; combined with the heady rush of knowing where they were, set Jamie’s arousal skyrocketing almost embarrassingly fast.

He was just starting to realize that he was going to have to make up his mind very, very soon about just how serious he really was on the subject of actually letting Ben make him come in his trousers like this— when the familiar ding! of the lift opening onto their floor nearly gave him a heart attack for the second time that night.

Jamie jerked away, frantically adjusting himself with his cheeks flaming, and then he nearly died on the spot when John Barnaby of all people rounded the corner.

“Winter, were you able to— Jones? What are you doing in… Causton…” Barnaby trailed off, his gaze flicking between Jamie and Ben and back again. Jamie knew perfectly well there was no hiding their air of… dishevelment. “Ah.”

“I happened to be in the area,” Ben said easily. “Thought I’d pop in.”

Jamie could hear the quiet half-smirk in his voice, but couldn’t even think about looking at Ben without blushing harder. Instead, he turned away to rifle hurriedly through the still-open drawer of the filing cabinet, desperately willing his raging erection to flag a little faster before he had to face Barnaby.

“I’ve almost found all the records you wanted, sir,” he said, hoping his mortification wasn’t as obvious in his voice as it felt like.

It probably was.

“Just, er, leave them on my desk, Winter,” he heard Barnaby say. “I’ll have a look tomorrow. Jones. Good to see you, you’ll have to stop in if you’re… in town for long.”

“I will,” Ben said. “Tell Sarah I said hello.”

Jamie, closing his eyes and still resolutely facing the filing cabinet, listened to Barnaby make a vague noise of assent in reply, footsteps heading back towards the lift. The doors dinged cheerily and thumped shut a scant moment later, and Jamie slid the drawer shut and let his forehead hit the cool metal of the cabinet with a low groan.

“This is your fault,” he said, twisting to shoot Ben an accusing look without lifting his head. “I have to work with him tomorrow morning.”

Ben just grinned at him, completely unapologetic, and sauntered over to rest his chin on Jamie’s shoulder.

“C’mon,” Ben said, one hand squeezing Jamie’s hip suggestively and making his still extremely interested cock twitch in his trousers, “you’re driving.”

“You are a terrible influence, Inspector,” Jamie muttered, his lips twisting into an unstoppable grin of his own as he tossed the stack of folders on Barnaby’s desk for the morning and grabbed his jacket to head out.

Ben cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh, I’m a bad influence?”

“You really are.”

“And whose idea was that quickie on the beach last time, then?”

“…That was different,” Jamie finally said, blushing furiously all over again, and Ben laughed nearly all the way out to the car.

…

#midsomer murders #winterjones #jamie winter #ben jones #chaosfic #smut #anon #prompt fill

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Text

YYH Recaps: Koenma Appears

Welcome to episode two, everyone! Before we get to the recap proper, I want to continue down Nostalgia Lane for a moment. Remember how last time I mentioned a Hiei bookmark I used daily back in middle school? Well, I tore through an old "treasure box" I created as a kid (a collection containing everything from a shark tooth to a small book on witchcraft. You know, the important things every child needs) hoping to find it... but I didn't. It's a hard life we lead.

However, I did find some other YYH relics that I thought you all might enjoy seeing. Behold — and, if you'd like, laugh at — my collection:

First up is a picture of young Toguro and Genkai that I wanted to use as my bookmark, but found that it was too wide. For the record, I didn't (and still don't) care about Toguro much, he was just the byproduct of finding a cool Genkai picture. Not shown is the back of the image with the names of my classmates because I made them all sign this along with our yearbook.

God bless my friends for putting up with me.

Second is a collection of very pretty trading cards that I ordered from god only knows where. I have vague memories of not finding any at my local comics shop and convincing my mom to let me order on The Olde Internet. Did I want the trading cards to trade them? Absolutely not. They exist to sparkle and make my heart happy.

Finally, I've saved what is perhaps the best for last. Now, you have to understand that grade to middle school age Clyde did not have the education that she would receive later on, which includes a knowledge of the ephemeral nature of fanworks and the importance of accurate record keeping. What this means is that I have absolutely no context for this. No author, no explanation... just the image itself.

Was this a standalone fanart? A part of a fic? Some specific request or just the will of the artist? I cannot answer these questions. I tried a reverse image search (which is, admittedly, the extent of my tech skills) and you know what the single hit I got was? "Fiction." Thanks, google. So yeah, I can only assume that my child self considered Kurama giving a de-aged Hiei a bubble bath adorable enough to save, but the artist wasn't important enough to jot down for future viewing. Sorry about that, mystery artist. And, as should go without saying, if anyone does know where this came from please let me know! Though I suspect that this is a case of a YYH-specific site closing down and the fanworks getting lost along with it. That happened a great deal before the age of AO3 when volunteers decided to put their time and talent towards saving fanworks of all sorts...

But enough of all that. Let's get to recapping!

As we established last episode, Yusuke and Botan are on their way to the spirit world to kickstart Yusuke's ordeal. Watching this after over a decade of consuming other media, I really appreciate that Yusuke acts like a human person and asks lots of questions about this. When Botan is cryptic for the sake of the audience — we're going to see "the person" who can explain everything — Yusuke is justifiably like, and what person would that be?? I mean, this is also a way to establish basic facts for the viewer and it simultaneously feeds into Yusuke being someone who is difficult for the sake of being difficult — "If someone wants to say something, they should come to me!" — but it's just nice to see a character who doesn't accept cryptic BS because the story needs them to. If Botan gives an unclear, but ~dramatic~ explanation, Yusuke is going to call her out on that.

So she explains that they're going to see King Yama and Yusuke is all whoa whoa whoa, there's royalty involved? Suddenly, he's not so adamant that they come to him.

Botan tries to reinforce this rare spark of humility and demands that Yusuke be on his best behavior from here on out.

Pff. Yeah right.

But “he can send you to oblivion forever if he wants to!” is a suitable enough threat to cow Yusuke for now. Which is interesting considering that a few hours ago he was happy to accept hell as his rightful ending. Granted, we could argue that there's a big difference between hell and oblivion — a character may not be afraid of punishment in the same way they are a lack of existence — but I'd say this ties more into Yusuke's development at the wake. Now that he's accepted that people care for him and that he should strive to return to them, the threat of having it snatched away actually means something. Even if that line is otherwise positioned as a comedic moment.

Botan flies them through a portal where we see the River Styx below and Yusuke comments on how big everything is. At first I was like, "What are you talking about? You were just flying over some major city in fictional Japan, wasn't that big too?" but this line makes more sense when they reach the palace and you realize that yeah, it's big. As in, the camera blurs while tilting down its length to show how insanely tall it is. Yusuke and Botan are tiny gnats at the gate's entrance.

"Oh man, what a pad!" Yusuke says and sure, that's one way to look at it lol.

Botan announces that she has a "new arrival" and the gates open for them, but so far there's no one else around. One part of me wants to question the time and budget put into this scene because shouldn't there be, like, thousands of people? Even just waiting outside? The idea that this is the hub of the underworld and that Botan is responsible for ferrying all the souls, yet she is guiding just this one (1) dude for a solid day is, from a world building perspective, kind of nuts. But beyond the need to develop Botan as a character (she can't be a part of the story if her job is treated realistically, with all the endless work that entails), I think this choice functions rather well from an atmospheric perspective too. Meaning, this moment is supposed to be rather tense for Yusuke. He just died, just found out the afterlife exists, just discovered a desire to get his life back, and is now about to meet a King who can toss him into oblivion if he's rude — which Yusuke always is. So this is a Very Dangerous Moment and their relative isolation feeds into that. As does the setting. Yusuke flinches back from the hallway, saying that it looks like a giant throat, so he is now literally walking into the belly of the beast.

Suddenly, the size of the palace isn't an indicator of awesome wealth, just general intimidation. Also, check out the spikey purple mountains in the background and the harsh reds of the scene, especially compared to the soft yellow of the river. All of it is designed to create an, "Oh shit" reaction in both Yusuke and the audience.

Yusuke's image of King Yama matches these surroundings:

Oh wait! Wrong character ;)

He's massive, red, shadowed, and poses a formidable threat. And how does Yusuke deal with threats? By fighting them! Even those he can't hope to beat. Remember, this isn't a situation where Yusuke has any power here, but he still desperately holds onto the possibility that he might. What if he gets off a punch on King Yama's nose? Then goes for his eyes? Yeah, that'll work!

Overlooking the fact that it absolutely would not — Yusuke's fantasy conveniently skips how he escapes Yama's clutches — what exactly is Yusuke hoping to accomplish here? Somehow take over the entire underworld? Escape as a ghost and live out his afterlife in hiding? We don't know and that's because Yusuke doesn't know. He doesn't think ahead, he just obeys this instinct to fight. An instinct that, crucially, overrides everything else. Botan has already told him that all Yusuke needs to do is be polite and everything will be fine, but it's not even that Yusuke believes that he can't achieve that; that he knows himself too well and, fearing a slip, starts planning for a potentially inevitable confrontation. There are simply no plans outside of battle plans. Yusuke just hears about someone vaguely intimidating and his brain jumps straight to, "How do I beat him in a fight?" no matter the odds, or that other options are readily available to him. Again, much of YYH's characterization occurs though its comedy, so outside of the general humor of witnessing this fantasy, it actually does a stellar job of reinforcing precisely who Yusuke is. In life the only thing he had going for him was his ability to fight. It was his one joy, his one skill, arguably the one good thing he did if we frame those reflexes as "saving" the kid... so is it any wonder that fighting dominates his every thought? It's all he knows.

And, as we'll see down the line, that single-minded obsession is very useful to the spirit world.

For now though, Yusuke finishes his absurd plans to take down King Yama and Botan asks what in the world he's muttering about back there. Which is an unintentionally hilarious line because by the end Yusuke is not muttering, but full on shouting. Botan. How did you not hear him?

Not important. They reach the next door and we get our first inkling that all is not as Yusuke (and we) expect when Botan leans into an intercom to say that they've arrived. Tech in a fantasy spirit world? This feels not only out of place, but rather... mundane? That's the point. When the doors open Yusuke expects his super scary monster, but gets... a whole lot of monsters that aren't scary at all!

The underworld is run by various demons (or ogres), though their looks are contrasted with the harried office worker personalities they've got going on. Someone is running by with a comically tall stack of papers. Someone else is shouting into a cell phone. The first two demons we see cross paths, looking like they're about to punch one another, just as Yusuke expects... except they're just dramatically getting out of the other's way, worried not about the hierarchy of this realm, but the fact that someone is behind schedule. The nerve!

"This place is a madhouse!" we hear somehow shout and yeah, that's the joke. The afterlife is just as chaotic, overworked, and — ultimately — boring as any human office. For all the strangeness of seeing hundreds of demons, this is familiar.

Which, alongside Botan's bubbly nature contrasting assumptions about the Grim Reaper, is one of the first instances of YYH undercutting the viewer's expectations in terms of looks. No one entirely looks the part they play in this tale and if you're trying to teach people to look past surface characteristics... there are worse ways to do it. Horrifying creatures with horns and sharp teeth? Nah, they're just chill dudes trying to do their job. Cutesy girl who looks like she belongs in a mall reading magazines? Nah, she's the Grim Reaper. Terrifying delinquent with a spine-chilling reputation? Nah, he makes faces at kids and saves them from cars.

Of course, the "nah" isn't accurate either. These are monsters with horns, Botan is a cutesy girl, and Yusuke is a delinquent with that reputation. The message isn't so much that people look like Thing A, but get to know them and you'll discover they're actually Thing B, it's the idea that you can be A and B (and C, D, E...) simultaneously. People — or rather, seemingly simple archetypes — can, in fact, embody multiple characteristics at once.

We'll get our third example in just a second.

Yusuke makes a comment about this being the "dead people stock exchange" — accurate — and Botan leads him to a more ornate door past all the desks. It's clear they've arrived at King Yama's office, since she's bowing and formally presenting him to... someone. Yusuke looks around for the giant beast he's imagined, only for a tiny voice to hail him from the ground.

Looks are deceiving!

“This is Yusuke Urameshi and he’s honored to meet you." Botan knows what's up. She knows Yusuke isn't going to express anything of the sort without some prompting. Too bad he's busy cracking up at this apparent child running the show. Side note: Yusuke has a fantastic laugh.

He even goes so far as to accuse Botan of lying to him.

“Why would I lie about such a thing?!”

“Why would the spirit world be run by a toddler?”

It's true! That’s a legitimate question! I love that Yusuke asks questions. The "toddler" goes on to explain that he's actually the "mighty Koenma," son of King Yama, though he's lived fifty times as long as Yusuke, "so watch your mouth." Assuming Koenma knows and/or remembers how old Yusuke is — fourteen — and is good at math, that puts him at seven hundred years old. He looks good for his age!

"And in addition to knowing the secrets of the universe," he says, "I am quite potty trained."

You've gotta love Koenma.

Yusuke's attitude changes drastically once they get down to business. Koenma produces an egg, saying that Yusuke's ordeal is to hatch it and face what comes out. The hatching part isn't difficult, all he needs to do is keep it on his person. The challenge is in the fact that this egg will feed off his spirit energy and that energy in turn will change what kind of creature develops. If his spirit is wicked and cruel, so will be the beast and it will devour Yusuke upon hatching.

However, if his spirit is good and kind, the beast will become a sort of guardian, guiding him back to his living body.

Note though that throughout this conversation the egg is always a "beast." It's a "monster." It's not necessarily intentional, but there's a strong bend towards the negative here in the description that really emphasizes the whole "ordeal" aspect. Koenma briefly reassures Yusuke that he can remain a ghost if he prefers, but he's already made up his mind. Despite another threat of being lost to a void — this time through spiritual digestion — Yusuke takes the egg almost without hesitation.

He regrets it later though.

"I can't believe I did that."

Can we blame him? I'd be nervous about some egg feeding off the energy of my soul too and I'm a former, almost straight A student (damn you, math) with no life-altering regrets and a general desire to put as much good into this world as I'm able. I’m boring. But what if those occasional, mean little thoughts you have add up? What if the prejudices you're still unlearning stack against you? Does the egg care about what you do, or only how you feel about the act? This sort of test would eat me alive!

Maybe literally.

Good thing Yusuke doesn't have time for an existential crisis!

Just as he's beginning to regret this decision, Botan points out that it won't matter if he passes if he doesn't have a body to return to. Now, why wouldn't he have a body? Maybe because his mom is set to cremate him tomorrow.

Whoopsie.

Yusuke is, understandably, distraught. We get another excellent exchange:

“Botan, is there any way for ghosts to communicate with living people?”

“Yes.”

“SO ARE YOU GONNA TELL ME?”

I swear, Yusuke is the only smart protagonist. I mean, he's dumb as a sack of bricks at times, but that's neither here nor there. Bless this fictional boy for reacting like an actual person.

Botan explains that people are more attuned to the spirit world when they're asleep, so Yusuke can deliver a message to someone in their dreams. Seems easy enough. They first head to Atsuko, but find that she's raging drunk and nowhere near sleep.

"You fool!" she yells. "No one gave you permission to die!" Atsuko continues to yell about how plenty of people survive car accidents, so why couldn't you? "Were you mad at me, Yusuke? Didn't I raise you right?"

Botan comments on how sad the display is. Yusuke's response?

“The only thing that’s sad is now she’s got one more excuse to act that way."

Y'all, that's some mature shit for a goofy shonen anime. Yeah, Yusuke recognizes that, while she's obviously heartbroken, his death has just given her another reason to do what she's been doing for years: drinking herself into a stupor. Toss in Atsuko putting the blame on Yusuke — "No one gave you permission to die!" — plus the belief that she did do a good job — "Didn't I raise you right?" — and it paints a rather bleak picture. This is by no means an uncommon theme. Negligent parents, whether they're framed that way or not, are pretty common in shonen series, but it's still rather jarring to re-watch this as an adult and go, "Oh. The situation’s like that." It's honestly a lot when you remove it from YYH's otherwise humorous, casual context.

Yusuke heads to Keiko's next and finds her sound asleep, commenting on how her room looks more "girly" than when they were kids. Check out that smile!

He's about to try and deliver his message, but Keiko is in the midst of a nightmare. “She’s crying… what’s wrong?”

Oh my god. Remember how I just said Yusuke is also the densest protagonist around? Example A right here. You just died, you fool! You just saw Keiko collapse at your funeral. What do you think is wrong??

We get a peek at Keiko's dream where she is — shockingly! — thinking of Yusuke. He's far out of reach, walking away and unresponsive to her calls. Keiko soon trips and Yusuke disappears completely.

Luckily, she has the real thing at her bedside. Yusuke tries talking to her and at first it's unclear if this supernatural stuff is really working. That is, until Keiko murmurs about how heavy he is.

Reassured, Yusuke delivers his message that Keiko needs to help Atsuko pull herself together and, most importantly, call off burning his body. We get this very soft and pretty background to establish their yet unspoken feelings for one another, though Yusuke gets close with, “I’m coming back. I don’t want to see you cry anymore" as he brushes her tears away. Aww.

Keiko wakes, thinking at first it was just a dream, but no, "I'm sure I felt it."

The next morning she heads to Atsuko's to explain the dream, only to first hear that Atsuko had a dream too, this one about Yusuke "living in some other world full of ogres and he kept knocking them down until he became their leader." It sounds absurd, of course, but it brings Atsuko some comfort to think of her boy in a place like that and Keiko backs down. Right, she'd only had a comforting dream too.

Now, there are two important parts to this exchange. The first is that this is an excellent example of how you let the characters drive the story, rather than forcing the characters adhere to the plot you've come up with. Meaning, in the latter situation, our cast would have needed to have their personalities twisted and the viewer's suspicion of disbelief tested to give Yusuke what he needs: a sleeping family member willing to believe his message. But it absolutely makes sense for Atsuko to be drunk rather than sound asleep, so Yusuke can't rely on her. Likewise, it absolutely makes sense for Keiko to be asleep, but not believe the dream once she's woken up. After all, how many times have we been persuaded by something in the dead of night only for things to look more logical and less likely in the morning? The characters act both like themselves and like people who do normal, people-ish things, which means that Yusuke runs into more conflicts. That's good! It not only raises the tension and stakes — now he has less than a day to convince someone — but makes his inevitable success feel that much sweeter. A less well written show (cough-RWBY-cough) would have had the characters change their personalities, behave in unlikely ways, or just come up with a sudden, contradictory solution because Yusuke needs to keep his body. Instead, Yusuke actually has to work for that within the bounds of the rules established and the likeliness of each plan succeeding. The first one fails? Move onto plan #2.

Second, this dream of Atsuko's has some cool implications within YYH's world. Meaning, we're about to learn in just a moment that some people are naturally more aware of the supernatural than others, even when they're not asleep. We'll also see down the line that spiritual awareness tends to run in families... so perhaps Atsuko possesses more than the average mother? I'm not saying it's necessarily intentional on the author(s) part, but we can choose to read this dream as evidence of spiritual awareness — true insight into the world Yusuke was just in and the fantasies he'd had about conquering it — rather than just a coincidental joke for the viewer. After all, Yusuke gets his own spiritual awareness from somewhere...

(Okay, so there's totally another, canonical reason for that, but we can have both!)

So, as Yusuke puts it, “This dream business isn’t gonna cut it.”

“There’s always the final method," Botan says.

“You always this vague?”

I am literally living for these interactions.

Botan explains that the more extreme form of communication is possessing a living person, but there are two rules attached: it has to be someone you know and the vessel has to be someone who is quite spiritually aware, as discussed above. Atsuko isn't a contender because the story hasn't acknowledged that she might be sensitive, that's just my own headcanon now. Yusuke outright says, “In that case I’m screwed. There’s no one like that!"

Cut to good old Kuwabara.

At first it looks as if he's just oh so conveniently sensing a spirit right when the audience has learned he has this power, but in reality it's Yusuke and Botan flying behind him that sets it off. Again: this show is pretty good about keeping things internally consistent, rather than making choices because That's Just How Stories Work, I Guess. Kuwabara's friends note that he's acting strangely and I love this detail that apparently one of the guys is new to their group because the other two need to explain that this is the "tickle feeling." Ever since Kuwabara was a boy he's been able to sense the dead around him. Some nice, some... not so nice.

He looks directly at Yusuke — even though he's not able to see him — and declares that what's following them is “A puny low-level ghost, like a haunted racoon or something.”

I'd support Yusuke's anger more if he hadn't just exclaimed his surprise that Kuwabara serves a purpose 😂

Yusuke is pissed enough though to proclaim that he won't do it, nuh-uh, no way is he possessing this guy's body. Botan's response is one of my FAVORITES in the WHOLE SERIES:

"Here's my impression of Yusuke: look at me, I’m burning!”

Literally 75% of this series is just about a found family sassing one another and I love it.

Obviously this helps Yusuke remember his priorities and he grudgingly agrees to the plan. Botan prepares Kuwabara's body somehow — idk, spiritual magic or whatever — and warns Yusuke that he only has an hour to find someone and warn them because a human body can't handle possession any longer than that. Sure. I buy it.

So Yusuke takes control and please ignore the incredible ethical issues here. The show will never acknowledge them again.

He blurts out, “Hey, check it out! I’m inside Kuwabara, feeling smooth!"

Istg I don't remember the series being this unintentionally gay. I don't even ship Yusuke/Kuwabara and I'm digging the possibilities here lol.

Back on track, his friends drag him with, “Looks like he’s back to normal” because again, 75%. What's not normal though is Kuwabara (Yusuke) suddenly charging down the street to leave them behind. He heads straight to the restaurant where Keiko's parents work, demanding to see her. They're rightly concerned about this stranger barging in and screaming for their daughter.

Upon asking who he is/why they should tell him, Yusuke makes his biggest mistake: “Because it’s me, you guys, I’m Yusuke!”

Obviously the time limit and raw emotion of knowing who he is has outweighed the knowledge that, you know, no one would believe that. Yusuke has spent the last two days bopping around as a ghost and familiarizing himself with some of the afterlife's insanity. The knowledge of what's normal for everyone else — AKA, not dead boys appearing in strangers' bodies — is not at the forefront of Yusuke's mind.

So, Keiko's parents react accordingly! The father in particular is disgusted by this claim, going so far as to threaten Yusuke with his knife and outright insult Kuwabara's looks: “Yusuke was never ugly like you… we were close family friends with that boy!" His wife chimes in that this kind of joke is particularly heinous on the day of his funeral. Between Atsuko drunkenly blaming Yusuke for his death and Mr. Takenaka grieving for what he might have been, this is one of the few times we see someone just sad for Yusuke's passing, exactly as he was and without regrets or criticism. "We were close family friends with that boy" paints a nice contrast to the delinquent persona Yusuke was cultivating.

As he's thrown out of the restaurant he says, “We should have special passwords for times like this!” Fun fact, my family does! Well, not this exact situation lol. I was given a password as a child to memorize in case my parents ever needed to send someone else to pick me up or interact with me in any way. If the stranger didn't know the password, I was to kick up a fuss. I rest easy with the knowledge that this password would not doubt assist me if I was ever in Yusuke's position!

With Keiko's parents a bust, Yusuke starts sprinting to everywhere she frequents with the hope of running into her. Or at least he tries.

Yusuke is suddenly waylaid by a group of nameless teens with a bone to pick with Kuwabara. And you know what? I like it. I wonder how much of my praise stems from coming off of RWBY Volume 8, but it's just so nice to watch a story where the plot — simple as it is — hangs together. We've established that Kuwabara is a street fighter. Last episode we watched him start a fight with Yusuke. Yusuke is on a time limit. Now Kuwabara's tendencies have created a new hurdle for Yusuke!

Needless to say, Yusuke kicks butt, even in Kuwabara’s body.

As one guy is passing out he says, “Man that hurt! I didn’t think anyone could throw punches that hardcore except Yusuke Urameshi."

Yusuke: “Darn, giving Kuwabara a good name." LOL

You think this challenge is finished though? Nah. Over the course of about half an hour Yusuke encounters a comical number of people trying to get even with Kuwabara.

As always, I like the nods towards this writing decision to help justify it, with Yusuke wondering how Kuwabara has pissed this many people off. If you want to pull off something that has a low chance of happening, it can help to give the characters a "Seriously?" moment. If both they and the audience are on the same page over how ridiculous this situation is, the audience is more likely to accept it once the character does.

By the time Yusuke escapes his hour is nearly up. However, thanks to some coincidental plotting, he spots Keiko's friends just across the street!

YYH does a decent job of making its characters feel like they have their own lives outside of what's immediately happening on screen and we get a good example of that here. We pick up the girls' conversation partway through, both of them worried about Keiko's state of mind and, given that we'll see in a second that Keiko was in the store with them, it implies that something happened to reignite this worry. They're off enjoying their day, doing their own thing, there was an event we're not privy to, and now we catch the response to that. It just helps make the characters feel more well-rounded even though they are, at their core, one-dimensional background characters who don’t even have names yet.

Case in point: the one girl is still concerned with their image. "People are starting to say things!"

Yeah, your friend's childhood friend just died. Hopefully they're saying, "Poor thing."

Anyway, Yusuke runs up to ask where Keiko is only for both girls to run away screaming. Turns out his face is messed up from the numerous fights and Keiko's friends are easily scared.

Luckily, Keiko comes out just a second later and Yusuke is faced with the challenge of how to convince her in, oh, about five minutes. Remember, we've already established through Keiko's parents that just saying, "I'm Yusuke" doesn't work. That's why he hesitates. It's not just drama for the sake of drama, he's stuck.

“I’ve known her my whole life, there must be something between us that only I would do!”

Yeeeeaah. About that 😬

Suddenly inspired (I suppose that's one way to put it...) Yusuke runs up behind Keiko and grabs her breasts. “Keiko, nice uniform! They’re so squishy!”

It goes without saying that, like flipping her skirt up, this isn't okay. More specifically, the problem lies in the story framing this as a joke for the audience, something to laugh at despite Keiko's discomfort, rather than the concept of two childhood friends actually be that comfortable with one another. But, as already established, this is one of the more ehhhh aspects of Yusuke's characterization that, luckily, will mostly disappear as the story goes on.

Note though that the show clearly wants us to think highly of this. Not just as a "joke," but as a smart solution to his problem and more evidence of their inevitable relationship — the background becomes the same soft, bubbly background we saw during their dream conversation. And, admittedly, it does work. Keiko instinctively slaps Yusuke hard enough to knock him to the ground and he starts laughing, saying that he doesn't care what anyone on the street says, she hits the hardest.

What I do like about this is that the assault isn't the only thing Keiko bases her faith on. Not only has she already had the dream, we get to see Yusuke from her perspective, showing all the mannerisms she picks up on by superimposing Yusuke's real body over Kuwabara's. Indeed, she says as much: “I knew it was you from the first time you spoke…and it’s not just your stupid gags, or how you laugh. There are ways you move and speak that in a hundred years I wouldn’t forget."

Catch me crying in this club!

Knowing she believes him and that he's almost out of time, Yusuke reiterates his message: please don't burn my body and also keep Mom on track. Only, you know, it's phrased far better than that lol. As he speaks, both Yusuke's and Kuwabara's voices overlap until the latter grows fainter and only Yusuke's voice remains. His body too. It's a nice touch, avoiding the awkwardness of Keiko having this moment with a stranger, even if that is what's happening on some level.

“I know I’ve been a bum to you at times, but please wait for me."

His hour up, now we can get the awkwardness! Kuwabara comes out of his weird trance thing to find Keiko crying against his chest. Wow, he thinks, this girl must be really into me!

God, to have the confidence of Kuwabara.

Of course, Keiko quickly realizes it's not Yusuke anymore and slaps him too for cuddling her closer. My favorite thing is that when she does this a crowd INSTANTLY appears. I mean they TELEPORT in. We needed an audience for Kuwabara's shame and YYH delivered, all logic be damned.

“Um, sorry about that!” Keiko yells as she runs away, because she's a good person who recognizes that weird spirit things just went on and Kuwabara isn't actually to blame.

“No, that’s okay. I probably deserved it," Kuwabara responds because he's also a good person and I didn't appreciate him nearly as much as I should have as a kid.

Keiko runs all the way to Atsuko's place where she finds her dressed for Yusuke's funeral. She blurts that Yusuke might still be coming back and Atsuko goes, "He already has." Turns out she opened his coffin to "smack him one more time for leaving me" — yikes — and found that his heart had started beating again, just as Koenma said it would.

Being in a shonen anime, they apparently decide to just trust Keiko's message rather than, idk, taking him to a hospital or something.

The camera tilts up to show that Yusuke has been watching all this, including that both women break down again and comfort one another. Aww. How heartwarming.

What's less fuzzy though is this mysterious egg. Yusuke takes another look and finds that it has developed a heartbeat too, presumably in time with his body's. He theorizes that he did decent things today, right? But Botan (teasingly) points out that he did beat up a lot of other kids. Rather than getting angry, Yusuke remains uncharacteristically pensive, emphasizing the magnitude of what this means for him. He's got to get it right.

No pressure or anything! We'll have to see how Yusuke balances his karmic scales in the next episode. Until then, I'll try not to put all my TV time into Star Trek: Voyager :D

See you then! 💜

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH recaps #mymetas

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sunshinejins · 3 years

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sweet red wine

what began as a funny story i told @caffeine-catastrophe turned into this little fic! also posted on ao3 under the username “joylight” if any of you would like to check it out there :)

pairing: julie molina x luke patterson

fandom: julie and the phantoms

rating: teen, i do mention drinking but all the characters are of age :)

warnings: alcohol, this literally takes place in a liquor store lmao

When Luke told his parents that he got a job directly out of high school, they had been proud of him for about three seconds until he mentioned that it was at a liquor store. His new employment had sparked an hour long conversation of “don’t you want to be working somewhere a little nicer?” and “is this just a stepping stone for that band of yours?” and “get a better job or we will physically force you into one.” Luke had retaliated with all the spite in his body and had promptly moved out the second Alex and Reggie had managed to secure a lease on an apartment. He might have regretted it, had the job at the liquor store not been the best gig he’d ever lined up.

The hours were great, mostly daytime shifts when no one was there, leaving his nights wide open to pilot Sunset Curve to greatness. The manager, a woman in her late-twenties named Lessa, had even managed to secure jobs for both Alex and Reggie within three days of Luke working there. They got discounts on everything, even though Luke mostly used his to fuel his Diet Coke addiction, and for the most part they got to interact with some pretty interesting people.

So yeah, Luke already liked his job a lot, and his parents had even timidly offered apologies after he had come to a monthly dinner bragging that he had been promoted to daytime supervisor. And then, he met her.

Luke’s in the middle of a pretty decent Among Us run on a random Wednesday in February when the bell over the door to Liquor By Us jingles. He lifts his head briefly, just to check that it’s not some fifteen year old punk trying to smuggle out a crate of Twisted Teas, and his jaw drops all the way to the floor. The girl who’s just unzipped her jacket and sent him a warm look may possibly be the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. She’s got a halo of dark curls which he’d kill to run his fingers through, a smile which would put Reggie’s “flirting” grin to shame, and eyes that he swears are filled with glitter and stars.

Or something. He needs time to work on his metaphors.

“Hey! Welcome!” He calls and she responds with an enthusiastic wave.

“Hi!”

“Anything I can help you with?” He shoves his phone to the side, watching only slightly mournfully as he gets killed by Dark Green. The girl steps slightly closer and he clocks the Thornton t-shirt she’s wearing and now he’s pretty sure his heart has beat out of his chest. She likes music. She likes music!!

“What’s your sweetest and cheapest red wine?” Luke pauses for a second and thinks. He knows he’s probably supposed to steer her towards the 30$ bottles of wine and lie and say they’re the best for the cheapest, but there’s something about this girl that makes him want to be truthful. And maybe run a comb through his hair. And maybe compose a guitar solo?

“Sweetest and cheapest? Huh, let’s see,” he crosses over the counter to the wall of red wine they have and the girl trails behind him. He doesn’t know much about red wine if he’s being honest, Alex is their resident wine fanatic and he focuses more on the spirits and mixers, but he’s determined to not mess this up. “Port is the sweetest wine you can get, but I’m not sure how cheap it is. We have a couple of inexpensive sweet red blends by Barefoot too,” he gestures to a rack of 8$ wines near the bottom. The girl tugs her lip between her teeth and Luke literally has to place one of his hands on an empty shelf to support himself.

“What’s a port?”

“Uhhhhhhhh,” Luke’s about to BS his way the hell out of this, when Alex rounds the corner with a handful of flyers and saves his life.

“Port is a Portuguese dessert wine that is generally served after supper. Why are you looking for port?” The girl turns to him and Luke violently gestures behind her in an attempt to alert Alex to his intense developing crush on the girl in front of him. If Alex notices, he doesn’t show it.

“I’m making sangria cupcakes for my best friend’s 21st tomorrow, and the recipe calls for red wine, so I assumed a sweet red wine would work best in baking?” Luke can vaguely hear Reggie calling for him from the walk in, and he wants so desperately to ignore him until Alex cuts him a very obvious look and Luke sadly stalks away.

Reggie is trying to load an entire armful of White Claws onto a shelf and Luke quickly snags a few before they fall. Reggie looks up and clocks what Luke can only assume is a mournful look on his face.

“Who died?”

“The cutest girl in all of existence who also goes to Thornton who also has a smile like an angel is currently searching for sweet red wine out there with Alex, and I’m regretting ignoring the training pamphlet about the wines of the world.” Reggie’s eyes widen.

“Did you get her name?”

“No!” Luke tosses his hands up in the air in exasperation, “But I know she’s making cupcakes for her friend!” Reggie tucks a few more White Claws onto the shelf and shrugs.

“Just ask her why she needs the wine. And beat Alex to checking her out.” Luke’s pretty sure his legs react to Reggie’s advice before his mind does, because he ends up back at the till without really realizing it and somehow the girl is there already holding three bottles of wine.

“I can help you!” His voice sounds high and tinny in his own ears and Luke cringes a bit even though the girl is still smiling at him. His brain may be mush. She passes him the three bottles of wine and he clocks two bottle of strawberry wine and one cheaper merlot.

“You went for merlot, huh?”

“Yeah, the other guy suggested it.”

“Well if Alex suggested it, it’s probably right,” Luke nods, mostly to himself. The girl nods along with him, and he tries to focus on doing his job instead of flirting for once today. He manages to scan all the bottles of wine, look at her ID (her name is Julie!) and pack her bottles with no issue, but then suddenly the two of them are standing across the counter from each other with the wine bottles between them and neither of them were moving.

What did Reggie say to ask again?

“So, can you explain to me how the wine is gonna go in cupcakes?”

Right, that. Good job, brain!

Julie smiles brightly, as if she was waiting for an excuse to talk about it, and leans against the counter.

“Apparently I need to make a red wine syrup and add it to the buttercream to make red wine buttercream! And then the cupcakes are full of fruit. So, sangria cupcake.” Luke definitely hears everything she says, but his mind is so full of the sight of the little gap between Julie’s front teeth and the swirls of hair falling to her dark skin, that his brain kind of shuts down.

“That sounds killer, I wish I could try some of those!”

He did not mean to say that.

Julie looks a bit shocked for a second, but she recovers and leans against the counter again.

“Well, we’ll probably have leftovers. It’s a pretty big recipe. I can do a cupcake delivery.”

Wait. What?

“Oh, so like, should I give you my number or something? Like, just to make sure that the cupcakes don’t go to waste?”

Very chill, Lucas.

“Yeah that works!” Julie’s smile probably mirrors his in brightness and intensity, and she hands him her phone without hesitation, “My name’s Julie, by the way.”

HOW DID THAT WORK.

“I’m Luke,” he answers excitedly as he types in his number to her phone, “Nice to meet ya!”

“Nice to meet you too,” Julie looks even cuter now that she knows his name and Luke can barely contain the bouncing in his step as he hands her the phone back. She finally snags the bag of wine and Luke distantly remembers saying goodbye, but he’s too revved up on the feeling of getting her number. Alex and Reggie materialize into his field of vision.

“You’re right, she was super cute, bro,” Reggie claps his hands in excitement. Alex is giving him a very dry, yet still loving look.

“She couldn’t stop looking at your biceps.”

“Who can?” Luke punches the air and finally feels the wriggling excitement crawl through his body. His phone buzzes and he’s quick to scoop it up, ignoring the chuckles of his friends.

from: unknown number

hey, it’s julie! when are you free for a cupcake delivery in the next week? maybe we can get coffee first?

Yeah. Luke loves his job.

—-

the sangria cupcakes themselves, made for my real life best friend’s real 21st birthday :)

#julie and the phantoms #juke #juke fanfiction #jukebox fanfiction #julie molina #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters #julie and the phantoms fic #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #my writing

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

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Self Promo Sunday

I have honestly really enjoyed going back to my older fics and making picsets for them to post here on tumblr. This one is a cute little one shot that came to me because I did a brief stint in direct sales and was HORRIBLE at it! (I sold - or tried to sell - scrapbooking supplies). I know Killian is good at charming his way out of trouble and using his charm to steal things, but I imagined that being a salesman wouldn’t be as easy for him. You see, I was horrible at sales because I don’t like talking people into buying something when they clearly don’t want to. Killian Jones is very passionate about choice and free will, so I imagined the following story!

Words: 2k and some change

Rating: G for silly, sweet fluff

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan

Emma Swan really hopes Killian Jones has a second job. Because she’s never seen a worse salesman. The first time he comes into the diner, the last thing she would have pegged him as is a salesman. All mussed hair and black leather with piercings and a tattoo. The heavy black vinyl bag leaning against the booth next to him that says Buy the Book: Direct Sales is out of place.

He’s so bad at it that it takes him forever that first day to give her his sales pitch. Until his second cup of coffee, to be exact. That’s when he hems and haws as he gives her his business card. She stares at it, wondering how she can politely decline as he scratches behind his ear and slides a glossy catalogue across the table. She normally wouldn’t have any qualms at turning down either a sales pitch or a pick up line with a gruff not interested, but he’s so adorably nervous. He starts pulling sample inventory out of his bag, and that’s when she’s in trouble because Henry sniffs out the books like a bloodhound. Her son hops from his stool at the counter where he’s been doing his homework, and eagerly starts looking through the books.

“Look at this one, mom!” Henry exclaims, holding up a pirate sticker and activity book. “It’s not for babies. It’s got cool facts about the history of real pirates.”

Yes. Emma Swan’s son is not your typical ten year old. He’s both a bookworm and a history nut. And she loves him for it. Which is why she buys it. Not because salesman Killian Jones has killer blue eyes.

She pulls a twenty from her apron pocket, hands it to him (because there’s no way she’s giving a guy she just met her credit card information), and tries not to swoon when he smiles. It’s killer, too. She’s his first customer, he tells her, and she can’t help smiling back. He frowns, though, when he realizes he doesn’t have change for a twenty, and then Emma rolls her eyes because, really? It’s just a nickel. He smiles again at that and, well, crap. That smile!

She rolls her eyes later when she sees the ten he left for a tip along with a note telling her she’s “bloody amazing.” The fool went and gave the majority of his profit right back to her. Yeah, he really sucks at this.

*********************************************************

The second time he comes into the diner, he wisely comes in the afternoon again, ensuring Henry is there doing his homework. But this time, he tries (and fails) to chat up fellow customers to get a few sales. They seem skeptical of a salesman who looks more like a biker/rock star than someone who peddles used cars. Emma almost laughs when the only single woman in the diner’s face instantly falls when Killian Jones produces his business card and a catalogue. Seems his blue eyes and his smile are powerless against a woman scorned. She huffs as she tosses her tip on the table and exits the diner post haste, leaving a clearly baffled Killian behind.

When Emma approaches his table, he smiles half-heartedly and she feels sorry for him. Once again, he doesn’t try to sell her anything until she fills his coffee mug a second time. That’s when he pulls out a book he thinks Henry might like, all about knights and castles of the Middle Ages. Henry eagerly peruses it, and Emma is a sucker once again. She buys it because Henry loves history so much he’s the only ten year old Emma has ever heard of who was pumped about a weekend trip to Gettysburg. It’s not because of the way Killian Jones swipes his tongue over his lower lip when he’s nervous.

*****************************************************

The next time Killian comes into the diner, Christmas music is playing and a garland of evergreen hangs in loops over the counter. It’s mid-morning, so Henry’s at school. After his second cup of coffee, Killian admits he came when he knew Henry would be at school because he was hoping . . . and then he’s hemming and hawing again, rubbing at his neck and scratching behind his ear. Emma thinks for a split second that he’s trying to ask her out until he pulls his company’s Christmas catalogue out of his bag. She tries to ignore her disappointment when he asks if she’s finished her Christmas shopping yet.

She ends up buying a “Daily Inspirations for Teachers” desk calendar for Mary Margaret and Nicholas Spark’s newest bestseller for David (a guilty pleasure she loves to tease him about). For Granny she gets a book of knitting patterns. Killian pulls out a book he thinks Henry would like: a leather bound book of fairy tales with the title Once Upon a Time embossed in elegant script across the front. Emma knows Henry would love it, but gasps at the price. A forty dollar book is way over her budget, and like the horrible salesman he is, Killian doesn’t push it. She orders two graphic novels for Henry instead, and when she places the order she slides her credit card across the table.

Killian tells her it’s his biggest order to date and smiles so wide Emma is able to confirm her suspicions. There are dimples underneath that scruff. She begins to second guess her assertion that he’s a bad salesman. Because she’s pretty sure he could sell beachfront property in Kansas with those dimples.

*************************************************

In January, Emma is alarmed when a dejected Killian Jones enters the diner and slumps in his usual booth, his head in his hands. Emma decides to stop the charade when she approaches his table.

“You don’t have to wait till your second cup of coffee.”

Killian lifts his face to hers and quirks an eyebrow in confusion, “I’m sorry, love?”

“You know,” Emma says, gesturing with her order pad, “selling me books. What do you have for Henry this time?”

Killian sighs and leans back in the booth, “Alas, Swan, I am no longer in the business. I’m pretty much the worst salesman in the world.”

Emma hates that she chuckles, but she can’t help it, “Yeah, you pretty much sucked.” Killian, thankfully, laughs as well. “I’m glad I was your best customer, then. While it lasted.”

Killian winces, “Actually, love, you were my only customer.”

Emma’s jaw drops at that and her sympathy grows exponentially. She never bought that much, really. She glances around for Granny as she slides into the booth across from him. Although, based on Granny’s reaction to the knitting book (Why don’t you kiss the man already instead of buying all his books?), she doesn’t think she’ll mind.

“Are you okay? I mean, you don’t seem like you’re starving and destitute, so I’m assuming you have another job.”

“Several, actually,” Killian says, drumming his fingers on the table. “My brother and I do seasonal work on the Cape with a boat charter we own.”

“Cape Cod?”

“Aye. The Cape is beautiful in the spring and summer, but in the winter it’s downright depressing. So I like to come here to Boston once we winter the boat. The hustle and bustle is a nice change of pace, and I love city life during the holidays. Plus, like your boy, I’m a bit of a history buff. I work seasonally at the bookstore down the street.”

“So why the direct sales?”

Killian sighs, “A foolish notion. The bookstore only hires me through the end of December. I thought with this second job I could stay in the city until spring,” he shrugs. “Turns out convincing a customer in a bookstore to buy J.M. Barrie’s original Peter Pan instead of the abridged illustrated version is a mite different from selling books all on your lonesome.”

Emma’s heart drops at the implication of what he’s saying. “So what will you do now?”

“Slink back to the Cape with my tail between my legs and help my sister in law at the ice cream shop, as usual.”

So he’s leaving Boston. He’s leaving, and Emma is surprised at how much it disappoints her. “An ice cream place on the cape can make it through the winter?” She almost face palms. Can she sound any more desperate to convince him to stay?

Killian doesn’t seem to pick up on any subtext, thank goodness. “Elsa inherited the place from her aunt. She and her sister helped out there since they were kids. They know how to make it through the lean months. Dull as tombs, though. Yet, as they say, spring will come again!”

Emma tries to smile, but she knows it’s half-hearted. Killian reaches into his bag and pulls out the leather bound book of fairy tales she couldn’t afford at Christmas. Emma arches an eyebrow, “Still trying to make a sale?”

“Oh no, Swan, this is a gift. To thank you.”

“Killian, I can’t accept that. You need to sell off your inventory, or you’ll lose everything you invested.”

Killian chuckles sardonically at that, “Too late for that, Swan. Besides, you’re the only one who ever bought anything, and you know it wasn’t for the books. You felt sorry for me.”

Emma’s face flushes, and she wishes she could tell him that wasn’t it. She’s always despised pity and vowed she’d never doll it out. But how can she explain that while still guarding her heart? Instead, she accepts the leather book and hugs it to her chest, mumbling a soft “thank you.” Killian smiles in return and exits the diner without ever ordering a thing. And she hates the finality of his departure and the possibility that there could have been a them, but now she’ll never know.

She looks down at the book in her hands and notices a little rectangle of cardstock poking out of its pages. She pulls it out, expecting it to be Killian’s Buy the Book business card. Instead, it says Jewel of the Realm Charters with the names Liam and Killian Jones and a phone number. Emma’s heart flips in her chest when she sees that Killian has jotted a note on the back.

I owe you and Henry a free day of sailing. – Killian

The fool still knows nothing about making a profit.

********************************************************

In February, Emma Swan walks into Any Given Sundae along the shores of Cape Cod. She convinced herself there was nothing stalker-ish about her showing up here, but now that the bell is jingling above the door and the blonde woman behind the counter is smiling at her, she’s having second thoughts. Killian had mentioned his sister-in-law’s name, so it’s not like she had to be a private detective or anything to find the place. Still, who drives all the way from Boston to Cape Cod just to visit an ice cream shop? In February?

“May I help you?” asks the blonde, and Emma fiddles with the end of her scarf. She was kind of hoping Killian would just be there when she walked through the door.

“Um . . . I . . .” and she almost laughs thinking of the way Killian would hem and haw when selling her books. She glances around the store. It’s one of those tiny places that beach goers walk in and out of on hot summer days. There are no tables or chairs anywhere in the place. But in the corner a display table has been set up. A display table of books. Emma walks towards it. “You sell books?”

“Oh,” says the blonde – Elsa, she assumes – with a dismissive wave of her hand, “that’s a failed business venture of my brother-in-law’s. Please buy one. I need to get those out of here before tourist season.”

Emma reaches out and runs her fingers along the edges of the books.

“Swan?”

Emma turns to see Killian standing behind the counter with a large tub of ice cream in each arm. He deposits them quickly into their slots behind the glass then comes around to face her. They stand there staring at each other for a few moments, grinning like a couple of idiots.

“Wh-what are you doing here, Swan?” he stutters, and she swears he sounds more nervous than he did when he was trying to sell books.

“Guess it’s too early for that day of sailing, huh?” she teases with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he teases back, “there’s a foot of snow on the ground, Swan.”

Emma bites her lip and fiddles with her scarf again, “Actually, I came to tell you thank you. For Henry’s book. He loves it.”

Killian raises his eyebrows, “You drove all the way out to Cape Cod to tell me that?”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes that makes Emma blush, and they just stare at each other again like goofballs. She sees Elsa laugh and shake her head out of the corner of her eye, and she thinks that she couldn’t possibly embarrass herself any more than she already has. So with a roll of her eyes and a screw this, she grabs him by the shirt collar and kisses the living daylights out of him.

He dives back in for more when she finally pulls away, and when Elsa tells them, “Easy there, tigers, you’re gonna melt all the ice cream,” they laugh against each others’ lips.

************************************************************

Two months later, Henry brings his book along when Killian takes them sailing. He reads parts of it out loud to them when Killian lays anchor, and Emma finds that it’s modern versions of classic fairy tales. Snow White is a bandit with a bow and arrows, Red Riding Hood is a werewolf, and Captain Hook is a hero who falls in love with a princess. And Emma thinks that she really likes this story. A pirate and a princess.

But she likes theirs better.

A salesman and a waitress.

Make that a horrible salesman and a waitress.

#cs ff #self promo sunday #cs modern au #fluff #killian as a salesman #a horrible salesman #emma as a waitress #emma and henry

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little-astro-naut · 3 years

Text

serendipity | namjoon

serendipity n. the phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for In which you are a university student working at a vintage/book store, and Kim Namjoon is a tad clumsy.

college/university!au

pairing: kim namjoon/reader (gender not specified in fic!) genre: fluff!!! just a wholesome read in general word count: 1.9k warnings: none, unless you need a warning for namjoon being the cutest clumsy dork note: Happy New Year!

Taking a 2021 leap of faith by posting my first fic ever, and it's for the ever lovable Kim Namjoon of BTS. This has been sitting in my WIPs for so long, but I'm glad I finally got the guts to just sit down and finish it. This fic is just a short happy little thing that I wanted to welcome the new year with, so I do hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

May this year be much, much better for you all. Thank you for clicking on this tiny thing, and enjoy!

[crossposted to AO3]

The day begins like usual.

You wake up at around seven in the morning. It takes a few groans and some burrowing under the covers before you reluctantly leave the comfort of your bed to get ready for another day of school. Today is Thursday, you note. Just one more day after this until the sweet, sweet embrace of the weekend.

On Thursdays, your classes begin at nine in the morning and end at three in the afternoon, after which you walk a few blocks down the street from your university to your part-time job at the little vintage shop right across the convenience store.

It’s owned by a pleasant, middle-aged lady with a love for collecting antiques, trinkets, books, and other unique finds she’s stumbled upon in her numerous travels around the globe. She often drops by the store when she isn’t away on another trip, waltzing in through the front door, clad in her signature ensemble of an expensive silk headscarf, a flowing floral dress, a pair of vintage designer boots, and a pretty little purse that magically fits everything and then some.

She’s like a real-life Mary Poppins—that is, if Mary Poppins had the aesthetic of a suspiciously rich 50-something lady whom you can usually find day drinking at some obscure Spanish restaurant. You don’t really know where she gets the money to own all that she does and travel five times each month (A small vintage shop at a university area surely wouldn’t make that much money, right?), but you don’t need to know. The elusiveness is part of her charm.

You met her one day as you were intently reviewing every single item on the shelf to score some hardbound anniversary edition copies of your favorite classics for cheap. She had noticed you frequenting her store, and finally offered you a part-time position due to your sincere—albeit novice—appreciation for quietly valuable things, and you said yes on the spot. It meant extra money and a 20% discount to your favorite shop, after all.

The walk to the store is short—a five-minute stroll along pretty rows of old brick apartments and quaint ice cream parlors and small restaurants with cuisine ranging from Japanese to Mediterranean. Your usual brisk walk becomes a leisurely pace today, thanks to the rare early dismissal from your Contemporary Asian Art elective, your last class of the day.

Breathing in the fresh afternoon air and looking up, you take time to admire how green the trees are at this time of the year. It’s calming to watch the leaves sway gently with the breeze, giving way for sparse rays of the sun to illuminate patches of the ground like tiny twinkling stars. Your eyes absentmindedly scan the sidewalk for the bits of sunlight that pass through.

The day feels brighter and kinder when you’re not hurrying, you think to yourself.

The mellow tingle of the chimes interrupts your reverie, announcing your arrival to the shop.

“Hey!” Taehyung, your co-worker, greets you with a smile as he packs away a small stack of readings and notes in his messenger bag. “Got a big exam today so I may have to go a little sooner, is that okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Good luck on that test!” You smile back, taking a seat behind the counter as you review the day’s transactions so far. “Wow, that’s a good number of purchases today—and it’s only three p.m.”

Taehyung swings his bag over his shoulder and ruffles his already messy black hair. “Right? Oh! Remember that really handsome guy I told you about? Broad shoulders, cute smile, even cuter laugh? The one from my English class?”

You give him an enthusiastic “YES?” in acknowledgment. Taehyung has not shut up about him all semester, but it took just one chance encounter on campus with “really handsome guy” to prove to you that “really handsome” was a gross understatement, and that if you were in his position, you’d never keep your mouth shut either.

“He came by this morning. Must’ve left his magical touch on the store.” Taehyung pauses, wiggling his fingers around to illustrate his point.

Taehyung’s silly action makes you snicker, but the gravity of his statement hits you all of a sudden, causing you to widen your eyes in response. “Wait. You mean I missed him!?” You frown in disappointment, and Taehyung gives you a sympathetic nod. “Damn. Well, at least he bestowed enough magic to help you survive that huge exam.”

“Not just survive it; I’m gonna ace it.” Taehyung winks. “And hey, I’m certain Mr. Eye Candy’s left enough magic in the store for you, too, out of his kindness.”

“When you finally get the guts to ask the guy out, tell him thank you!” You laugh and give each other one last wave before he skips to the exit, almost bumping into a customer who has just entered the store. They bow to each other in apology.

“Good afternoon! How may I help you?” You stand up from where you’re seated to make yourself available to the tall boy in a black cap and blue shirt. Funny, you haven’t even seen his face yet, but you already think the denim is a good look on him. Not a lot of people don’t look like a joke in denim shirts, but even fewer people are blessed with the ability to look amazing in them. The first customer of your shift, whoever he is, is one of those people.

He takes clumsy steps through the entrance, retreating the arms that pushed the door open back into his pockets. The cap on his head, however, is doing nothing to help you get a better glimpse of the boy who has kind of piqued your interest.

Then he topples over a whole stack of books on display up by the front of the store. Now you’re really interested.

As he picks up a couple of books from the floor, the “SALE” sign beside also falls with a muted thud when it hits a hardbound copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. He looks up from where he’s knelt on the ground, searching for someone to whom he can address more of his profuse apologies before standing up in shame, waiting for the cute person behind the counter to approach and also maybe but hopefully not reprimand him for his stupidity.

“Oh, shit,” you hear him whisper in panic. “I am so sorry about that. I’ll fix it.”

He tries, at least.

His eyes meet yours as he straightens up, as if to admit defeat against the on-sale books still on the floor. You’re chuckling, walking towards him and effectively pretending you are not the least bit fazed by the stranger’s slightly obscured puppy eyes and mild panic and how he towers over you while being as threatening as a lost child.

“Need some help?” you chuckle again—out of nervousness more than anything, if you’re being honest—and he reciprocates shyly.

“Sorry about this.” He gives you a sheepish smile as he adjusts his cap and scratches the back of his head. It’s quick, but it’s more than enough to give you a perfect glimpse of his handsome face: timid eyes, full cheeks, and a guilty smile boasting of a dimple on each side.

You lag for a moment upon the unobstructed sight of him, but almost immediately catch yourself. A brief clearing of the throat and you begin picking up the books sprawled on the floor between the both of you. He quickly bends down to try and be of assistance, picking up a few and checking to make sure he made no damages to any of the copies before returning them to the display rack.

You both reach for the dog-eared paperback edition of Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being at the same time, and you could’ve sworn a sudden spark jolts you the moment your hands meet.

He’s the first to look up. The boy in the cap waits to meet your gaze as you blink to yourself a few times before deciding to check on said boy in front of you. Now it’s your turn to say sorry, and you’re not really even sure why. Just felt like speaking would help make this less nerve-wracking for you and your now pounding chest.

And then he snorts. It’s not even supposed to be a pleasant sound, but it tickles your ears and heart in a way that requires all of your willpower to keep yourself from melting into a puddle right then and there. He picks up the book, stands up straight, and looks at you—still smiling, still so attractive it honestly hurts. The softest of giggles leaves his lips, and you really, truly, die a little.

“Sorry, um…” He scratches his head. Maybe a cute habit of his? He has no real followup to that apology, so he pretends he didn’t say it and just continues with the next thought in his head.

“I’ve been looking for this for so long.” He lifts the copy of the Kundera novel in his hand.

Ah, the book. You almost misunderstand.

“I’ve wanted to own this in this particular cover, but for some odd reason, it wasn’t in any bookstore I’ve visited before.”

“Oh, well then, I’m glad you found what you were looking for here.” You smile shyly.

“This and more, really,” he whispers to himself, and you don’t quite catch it.

“That copy’s actually also our last of that novel. If you had come by on any other day it might have been gone already,” you explain, mentally patting yourself in the back for finishing your sentence without stuttering.

You fidget with your fingers, praying for a reason to continue speaking with the beautiful stranger and the courage to maintain eye contact the way he’s effortlessly doing.

“I’m glad I dropped by today, then.” He stares at you for a moment, hoping you catch just what he really means before his eyes turn into crescent moons when he scrunches his nose to give you a playful grin.

It seems that your prayers work. Without missing a beat, you find uncharacteristic confidence from within your nervous bones to respond, “I’m glad you did, too.”

“Maybe I should drop by again tomorrow,” he says, your answer giving him a boost of confidence. “And the next day, too, maybe?”

“We restock books on Fridays and Saturdays. I’m off then, so my friend Jimin will be the one to assist you if ever.” You smile, teasing.

“Hmm, how about Sunday?”

“We’re closed on Sundays.”

He purses his lips as he holds back another fit of giggles, shaking his head lightly. He has been nothing but a dork and a dumbass this whole time, and yet, luckily, it seems like it’s working. So he pushes it.

“How about I make it simpler by just asking you out right now? Since it’s your day off, how does tomorrow sound?”

You laugh at this, before coyly looking at him to say, “What makes you so sure I’ll say yes?”

“Just trying my luck, really.” He laughs, too.

“Today must be your lucky day, stranger.”

“Kim Namjoon,” he responds, perfect smile still there on his face. “My name’s Namjoon.”

“Well then, Namjoon, today’s your lucky day.”

And mine, too, you think to yourself. You hope Taehyung doesn’t forget to extend your gratitude to Mr. Eye Candy.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Feel free to drop by my ask for comments, suggestions, or just to say hi!! Constructive criticism is welcome, but please be kind! I'm very new to this so I would greatly appreciate kind feedback.

#bts scenario #bts imagine #bts au #bts scenarios #namjoon scenario #namjoon fluff #namjoon au #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #RM #kim namjoon #namjoon #fic: serendipity

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the-day-that-wasnt · 5 years

Text

commission crush

request: you said you write, right? i had this idea a few days ago and i've just been asking around for anyone to write it. can i request a five fic where the reader works with gloria in the commission and has a lil crush on him? and she helps him escape?

a/n: i use a bunch of quotes from the actual episode (ep. 6) and idk how rights work but this is just fanfiction !! no harm intended !! but for the anon, thanks for giving me some prompts because i don’t think i could’ve thought of this on my own! <3 also, i can’t with titles. i actually can’t.

word count: 1.8k

Sighing, you rolled in another cart full of pneumatic tubes for Gloria. It had been your third delivery that day, and it was barely even lunch yet. Noting your frustrated manner, Gloria gave you a small smile. “Lighten up, (y/n), break starts in about an hour.” You returned her grin, but lacked the enthusiasm behind it. You hated working at the Commission, even if you had only been there for about 2 years. Ever since your mother, who also had served the Commission, broke her contract early, she signed you off instead for 5 years. Ever since you were 12, day after day you spent sorting tubes into their designated tunnels. It was utterly boring and constantly you fantasised about getting promoted to case managers. They were always reading something interesting, which you would take over your current job any day.

“Based on that determination, the case manager sends instructions via pneumatic tube to temporal assassins like you formerly were, Number Five.” you heard the Handler’s ever so monotone voice. You were sorting through the tubes on the bottom of the cart, but you couldn’t manage to see who the Handler was talking to. “But, as you’re going to be a case manager you don’t have to worry about that.”

As soon as you heard those words, you almost bursted at the seams with jealousy. “The Handler is promoting someone to case manager even though I’m right here??” you thought. Angrily, you stood up to give a death stare to whoever took your spot. The anger disappeared, however, when you realised it was a boy your age.

And shit, he was cute.

You could feel your face heat up as everyone in the tube room looked at you. Gloria, in confusion, The Handler, in annoyance, and the boy, in intrigue. You forced your eyes to look away from the boy, and to the tube you were holding. Even as you did so, you couldn’t get his piercing eyes and his wide smirk out of your head. You listened as the Handler went on with the tour.

“So, any queries?”

The next time you saw him, you were nearly scared shitless. You were in the middle of polishing the tunnels when you turned around to find him at a proximity too close for strangers. You yelped and stepped back, glancing at Gloria, who was preoccupied with her typewriter. You turned to the boy, who was staring at you as if he was trying to figure you out. “Um, hi!” You started, offering your hand. “I guess you’re the new case manager here at HQ. I’m (y/n).”

He grasped your hand as if you were made of glass. Even so, such a small brush of fingers made your heart rate shoot skyward.

“Five. Five Hargreeves. You work with the pneumatic tubes, I assume? Although I’m sure you do most of the work; no offence, but you look much younger than your colleague.”

You couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or not. “Oh, um, thanks? Gloria’s been here since I was born. I can’t see why anyone would want to stay here, though; The Commission is utter garbage.” you rambled on. Five’s eyes glinted in curiosity. You stopped your rant when you noticed the smile on his face threatening to widen. “What?”

He chuckled. “Oh, nothing, I’ve just never met someone in the Commission who hated it. Except maybe Hazel.” He gestured to the tube he was carrying. “Do you mind if I send this?”

You blinked, not having been entirely focused on the conversation at hand and more on how to keep your cheeks from blazing pink. “Yeah! Sure!” You watched as his eyes flickered in concentration over the numbers. Yeah, you definitely had it bad for this boy you just met (to be fair, everyone else in the Commission was either an asshole or looked like an old hobo) [a/n lil did u know that 5 is both lmao].

“I’m afraid that’s not procedure.” Shit. The Handler. She smiled, taking the tube out of his hands and then glaring at you. “Seriously, what is her problem?” you thought. “Five, meet Gloria. Gloria, this is Number Five.”

Gloria, well aware of your little crush, nudged you. “Look at you! A deadly little thing. So glad we decided to close the contract on your life, right (y/n)?”

Contract? What contract? You looked at Five, eyebrows furrowed. He stared at his feet unmoving. That is, until the Handler read out the paper. “Karl Weber? Now tell me, why unfortunate Karl?”

If arrogance could be a human face, it would be the face Five made before elaborating his decision. He looked up, locking eyes with you. “Karl Weber is the butcher at the shop where Captain Ernst A. Lehmann acquires his weekly roast. If he dies, the shop goes down to his son, who never washes his hands, which is disgusting. So he’s the one that gives his captain the roast, and that gives him food poisoning, which makes him late for work, which delays the takeoff. To make up for lost time, the Hindenburg flies to a weather front of high electrical charge and humidity–”

“and the static electricity inside the aircraft makes it a virtual tinderbox, leading to the sparking of the engine which makes it explode!” you exclaimed, finally understanding. Too late, you realised that all three of them were staring at you again. “(y/n)!” the Handler hissed. “Can’t you have enough decency to let Five finish speaking? I told you to stop looking inside files, you fool! This is why you’ll never get to be anything more than a pneumatic peasant!”

Your face crumbled, and even Five staring at you in amazement couldn’t get your hopes up. You were never going to be a case manager if the Handler had anything to do with it. Under Gloria’s orders, you shuffled back to the front office, where you were in charge of typing out templates for the Commission orders. You did notice, however, that Five’s almost starstruck gaze followed you out.

What felt like your 20,395th tube was just put into the last delivery of the day. Time was fickle at HQ, and it had felt like 10,000 years before you could finally go home. You were just putting your overcoat on when Dot stormed into the room. You narrowed your eyes. You never liked Dot, she was way too loyal to the Handler. You listened to her urgent whisper.

“Gloria! Get this to Hazel and Cha Cha immediately. The handler knows that Five is up to something.”

“Up to something. Huh.” you thought. “This could be interesting.”

Interjecting, you shot Dot a look. “That’s ridiculous, Dot. Why would he betray the commission when he just got here?”

Dot scowled at you. “No one asked you, (y/n), just deliver the tube.” She said, sauntering out of the room in a hurry.

Gloria put a hand on your shoulder, flashing a unsettling smile you hadn’t seen in a while. “I’m sorry (y/n), but Dot might be right. Now’s not the time for your crush to cloud your judgement. I think we might have to exterminate him now.” She walked over to the tunnels, searching for the right one. Panic overtook you, and you stormed over, grabbing the nearest thing (which happened to be a stapler) and bashed it on Gloria’s head, knocking her out cold.

“I never would have labelled you as the violent type.”

You whipped around, seeing Five stare at you with a smug grin. Your eyes widened. “I-Listen! I didn’t actually mean to hurt her, but they were trying to–”

“I know. I overheard everything.” He stated, walking past you to take the tube from Gloria. You could feel your heart drop into your stomach as you stammered. “E-everything?”

He turned back to face you, the smile growing. “Everything. By the way, I think you’re cute too.”

You exhaled, feeling faint. Blinking, you stared back at him. “So what now?”

He opened the tube, reading it with a satisfactory expression. “Now, I’m going to save the world. But first, I gotta throw Hazel and Cha Cha off my scent. Do me a favour and order them to kill each other.”

You nodded, understanding the diversion. You ran over to the typewriter and jotted down orders hastily. Putting them into tubes, you handed the orders to Five, who sent them into the tunnels. He turned to you.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye then. I’m off to prevent the apocalypse.”

You beamed at him, kissing his cheek. “Go save the world, Five.”

Suddenly, you heard a gun cock behind you. Your body froze. You shut your eyes, willing it not to be who you thought it would be. The coarse voice of the Handler made you want to crawl into a ball and never leave.

“You know that’s not how we do things here.” She spat. You couldn’t see her face, but you imagined it was writhing in caked makeup and rage.

“You can’t change things to come, Five. I truly find it so odd that you can’t shed this fantasy. You’re a first rate pragmatist! It’s so sad, now, that I’m going to have to kill you and this little traitor here.”

Your eyes shot open as Five grabbed your arm and jumped through space to behind the Handler. You couldn’t even process what was happening when he grabbed a grenade and threw it at her. “Hold on!” He shouted, teleporting again.

The last thing you saw was the Handler’s face being wiped off of all the smugness she had. Then, you were at the briefcase room. You were pulled along by Five, who grabbed a briefcase and threw another grenade into the room. You two ran out, Five setting a date and time. He locked eyes with you right before you were enveloped in a blue light.

When you opened your eyes, you were in a bedroom. You looked out the window and saw a city outside. Your eyes were then drawn to the probability equations that were scribbled onto the walls and ceiling. You knew these equations all too well; they were calculating the likelihood of a change in the timeline.

Beside you, Five sat up, holding his side. You two stared at each other for what felt like forever before you spoke softly. “Why...did you take me with you?” You murmured, dropping your head down to stare at your lap. “It would’ve been easier just to let me die.”

You heard him chuckle, and his hand intertwined with yours. “I couldn’t do that. Not after everything you did for me. Besides, I have a feeling that I finally found someone who lives up to my intelligence quotient, and I needed your help.”

Laughing, you smiled at him. “Alright, then. Let’s stop the apocalypse.”

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagines #tua imagines #tua #the umbrella academy fanfiction #the umbrella academy scenarios #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagines #aidan gallagher #aidan gallagher x reader

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years

Text

Fic: Of Libraries and Ties (1/2)

Summary: Follow up to last month’s Of Comic Books and Sushi. Belle, Neal and Neal’s girlfriend Emma all end up at Gold’s for New Year’s. Belle falls in love with a particular room in Gold’s house, and a good time is had by all.

Part one written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Books, Tea, Big City, Drive.

Part two written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Surprise, Lingerie, Bedroom Eyes

Rated: Part one is T, part two will be E

=====

Of Libraries and Ties

Part One

Belle was still having a bit of trouble coming to terms with how small Storybrooke was in comparison to Boston. Ever since she’d come to America in the first place, she’d only ever lived in cities, her father figuring that there would be more opportunities in a big city than in a small town. Even back in Australia, she’d never lived anywhere quite as small as Storybrooke.

“Are you ok?”

She glanced over at Neal in the driving seat of the little yellow bug. Emma was spark out asleep in the back. They’d decided that it would be more economical to cram everything into Emma’s car and all go up to Maine together, sharing the drive time, rather than all making their own ways to the same place. Andrew had invited them all for New Years - Neal obviously had a standing invitation as his son, Emma was welcome as Neal’s girlfriend, and Belle was welcome as Andrew’s own girlfriend.

It had taken Neal a while to get to grips with the idea of his roommate and his dad being together. It had taken Belle a little while to accept the fact that she was dating her roommate’s dad. Still, everything seemed to have worked out for the best, even if the relationship was still somewhat long-distance whilst Belle was still in college. She thought that they had the potential to go the distance, and she now knew Andrew enough to be assured that she wasn’t simply a flash in the pan, midlife crisis fling.

“Yeah,” she said eventually, in answer to Neal’s question. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just never been anywhere like this before.”

“That’s not the only thing though, is it?” Neal had slowed the bug to a crawl to comply with the town’s speed limits. “Come on, you can tell me. I’m your best friend.”

“Yes, and your dad is also my boyfriend. I think that there might be a conflict of interest somewhere along the line here.”

“Hey, as long as you never, ever talk about sex in my earshot, we’ll be fine.” Neal grinned. “So, it’s something about Dad that’s getting you down?”

“Not getting me down, per se. It’s just that every other time we’ve seen each other, we’ve been in Boston. We’ve been in my comfort zone, so to speak. Now we’re in his. In his house, no less. It feels… strange.”

“Maybe. But think about it this way. Dad’s lived in that house for over twenty years, so it’s got a lot of him in it. You’ll learn a lot more about him in Storybrooke than you ever could in Boston.”

“I suppose you’re right.” It would definitely be nice to get a first-hand glimpse of Andrew’s life, rather than having to imagine it all for herself as they talked about it. And after all, he had seen her home and how she lived. It was only fair that she should get the same kind of insight into his own life.

“Ok, we’re here.” Neal pulled into the drive of a very impressively pink house on the outskirts of the town.

“Your dad’s house is pink.” Emma had woken up and was staring out of the windscreen at the house, rubbing her eyes. “Is your dad’s house pink? Or am I still dreaming?”

“No, the house is definitely pink,” Neal said cheerily. He waved to his dad, who had stepped out onto the porch to greet them. “Come on, let’s get inside before we freeze. I hope it doesn’t snow. Not that being snowed in at Dad’s is necessarily a bad thing, but I left all my coursework in Boston and it’s due next week.”

“Is Storybrooke famous for snow?”

“Not really, we’re too near the coast. As in, literally on it. But when it comes, it comes with a vengeance.”

They manhandled all the luggage out of the car and into the blessed warmth of the house. Emma and Neal immediately took off up the stairs to dump their stuff in Neal’s room, leaving Andrew and Belle standing under the mistletoe in the hall. He leaned in, kissing her lips softly, and Belle dropped her bag to hook her arms around his neck and pull him in closer for a deeper kiss. He was smiling as she broke away, his eyes bright and a little shy. Belle saw then that he was feeling all the same nervousness about welcoming her into his home as she was feeling about visiting him in it.

“I didn’t know where you would want to sleep,” he said eventually. “The spare bed is made up ready for you if you would prefer, but I’d really like it if you stayed with me.”

Belle kissed him again. “Of course I’d like to stay with you.”

“I’d hoped you would. I just didn’t know if you’d be worried about traumatising Neal or something.”

Belle snorted. “Hey, he’s got his own girlfriend to traumatise us with, he can’t talk.” She grinned. “Why don’t you give me a tour of the house?”

Andrew gave a soft huff of laughter. “Why not indeed. Without meaning to sound in the least bit presumptuous, we can start in my room so you can park your bag.”

Andrew’s room was gorgeous, all dark woods and jewel-like colours, and Belle had to admit that the space suited him perfectly. She ran her hands over the intricately carved headboard, heat beginning to rise in her face as she imagined all the wonderful uses that it could be put to later.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “It’s very you. This is the kind of place that I can always picture you in.”

“I’m glad you like it.” There was no mistaking the quiet pride in his voice. “But there’s another room that I think you’ll like even more.”

Belle held out a hand to him. “Lead on, McGold.”

He snorted at the throwback to their first date together in Boston, back before they had really known that they were dating, but he nonetheless took her hand and guided her into the next room. It had originally begun life as a small box bedroom, but now, the amount of floor to ceiling bookcases in it meant that the only furniture it had room for was an old leather armchair and an antique end table.

“It’s not exactly a library like you’re used to, but it’s good enough, I think.”

“Oh Andrew, it’s perfect. I’d love a room like this in my own place.”

She slipped her arms around his middle and rested her chin against his shoulder. It was nice to be dating a guy who didn’t tower over her for once. It was even nicer that he remembered how much she liked books and had known how much she’d like this room. Despite their age difference and the undeniable fact that he was Neal’s dad, Belle felt that Andrew was far better suited to her than some of her exes.

“Dad, what’s for dinner?”

Belle felt Andrew’s sigh, but she didn’t pull away from him as he replied.

“Neal, it’s only three in the afternoon.”

“I know, but we’ve had a long drive from Boston. We’re starving!”

“There’s a box of Granny’s peanut butter cookies in the kitchen.”

“Yes! Thanks Dad!”

Andrew always brought a steady supply of the mysterious Granny’s cookies with him whenever he visited Boston, and Belle’s stomach gave an aptly timed growl. Andrew chuckled.

“Come on, before Neal and Emma finish them all. We can have the rest of the tour later.”

Belle curled up in the leather chair under her blanket, lost in Dickens’ prose. Dinner had turned out to be chicken chasseur, and now Emma and Neal had volunteered to do the dishes whilst Andrew made a couple of last-minute phone calls. Although, given the amount of hilarity that Belle could hear coming from the kitchen, she felt justified in wondering if they were actually creating more mess than they were cleaning up.

“I thought I might find you in here.”

She looked up to see Andrew standing in the doorway, a mug in each hand. “Tea?”

“Yes, please.”

He placed the mug down beside her and made to leave the room, but Belle caught his arm. “Hey, stay. I’m sure that there’s room in this chair for two. Neither of us are very big, after all.”

Andrew smiled. “All right.”

Belle got up to allow him to sit down, then she scrambled up onto his lap, tucking the blanket back in around them both.

“There, this is perfect. Good books, good tea, good company. I can’t think of a better way to spend the evening, personally.”

“No.” Andrew took a sip from his own mug. “No, I think you’re right there.”

“The only thing that would make this better is if we had a roaring fire and a cat stretched out in front of it.”

“I’m allergic to cats. How about a dog?”

“A dog’s good too. One of those big shaggy ones that just lies there like a rug. A retriever or St Bernard.”

“We had a collie retriever cross when Neal was younger. Looked like a collie but bigger. And hairier. She was the most docile pushover ever.”

Belle laughed at the image. “What was her name?”

“Tiff. Well, Tiffany. She looked like she was wearing a little black dress, like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

Belle thought about the scene, of Andrew and a big dog and a small child. She could see it easily. What was more concerning was how easily she could see herself as part of the picture as well. She shook her head; she was only twenty-two, she wasn’t ready to be thinking that long-term yet, and she knew that Andrew respected that. She loved what they had together, and she hoped that it would last, but the future was very big and very long.

She glanced over to the window where the first few flakes of snow were beginning to come down.

“Neal’s going to be pissed.”

“What?” Andrew followed her sight line. “Oh, yes. He never did like snow all that much.”

They watched it drifting for a while until Belle got up to close the curtains, keeping them safe and snug. The massed hilarity from the kitchen appeared to have finally ceased.

“Shall we go down and join them?” Andrew asked. Belle’s response was to settle back down onto his lap.

“Nah. Let them have some time to themselves too. I like it here like this, just you and me.”

“I like it too.” Andrew paused. “You know, you’re always welcome here without Neal. You don’t have to wait until he comes to visit.”

“I know. That’s good. I think it would be a bit awkward otherwise.”

“I’m sorry if we’ve made things weird between you and Neal.”

Belle shrugged. “It was weird for about a week, but then we got over it. We’ll always be friends. I know too many of his secrets for us not to be.”

“Well, that makes two of us. Together we’re invincible.”

Belle laughed and leaned in to kiss him. Andrew accepted her readily, pulling her in close beneath the blanket. They might not know exactly where they were going in the future, but that didn’t matter. They were happy in the present. It was the middle of the Christmas season, and they were going to enjoy themselves without a care.

Belle kissed Andrew again, never wanting to let go. This New Year’s was going to be great.

#rumbelle fic #A Monthly Rumbelling #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #Fic: Of Libraries and Ties

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xsixxx · 5 years

Text

Bad Influence, chapter one

Authors note: Hi ok so I’ve never done one of these before (full on fan fic virgin) so please go easy on me. I’ve got a rough plan as to what this story is gonna be, but be prepared to commit & be in it for the long haul, sorry! I hope you enjoy it, feedback is welcome encouraged & also I’d love to do requests if you have any! Thanks for reading 🖤

Warnings: Erm none I don’t think, probs just a bit of language & sexual references

I have no tags as I have no followers as I’ve literally made this blog last night 😂 But hopefully in the future, this is where my tags will go, send me an ask if you want tagging!

Spring ‘81

“That was un-fucking-believable! I can’t wait for them to play again!” Maddie yelled, jumping on my back as we left the Starwood.

“Get off”, I grumbled, pushing her off, irritated by her constant childlike excitement that never seemed to fade. “Play again? You barely saw them play this time, they were too busy fighting with the crowd!”

Maddie giggled, “well yeah, that’s part of the fun, Beth! Yanno, it’s their whole image!”

“I thought their image was tight pants & make up”, I said, rolling my eyes. I was already bored of Mötley Crüe. I’d spent the last hour watching them awkwardly & drunkenly, stumble though their set, as well as stumble on stage in the high heels they clearly didn’t know how to walk in. They stopped every 5 minutes to fight someone in the audience or take a swig of Jack from the bottle they were sharing between the 4 of them. To say they weren’t my kind of scene was an understatement, but to my music-loving little sister, they were gods & she had no intention of shutting up about them any time soon.

“Did you see the bassist swing his guitar into that guys head?!” Maddie carried on, still riding that post-gig high. “& when the drummer dived off the stage onto the other guy?! Man, they’re so fucking metal”, she laughed.

“Um hm”, I mumbled, tuning her out & power walking ahead, until I spotted her sparking up a cigarette out the corner of my eye.

“What the hell, Maddie?! Put it out!” I yelled. “Daddy will kill you!”

She laughed, taking a long drag & blowing the smoke directly into my already angry face. “Chill out Beth, he won’t!”

“You’re right, he won’t, he’ll kill me for letting you. I’m supposed to look after you, now put it out!” I tried swiping the cigarette from smirking lips, but Maddie was too quick, dodging me. She laughed again, but noted the growing annoyance on my face &, after taking a few quick drags, she dropped it on the floor & stubbed it out with the tip of her white stiletto.

“Great, now you smell like an ash tray! I can’t risk daddy smelling smoke on you, we’re gonna have to go somewhere to kill some time until he’s gone to bed”, I groaned, thinking of the college paper I’d got waiting for me at home, that I’d already put off to accompany Maddie to this stupid gig at my fathers request. I inwardly cursed them both as I pushed open the door to the overcrowded diner. I was immediately hit by the smell of yet more smoke, partnered with bacon & coffee. The grubby dinner was harshly lit & loud, with the buzz of a Saturday night in West Hollywood. We sat down in one of the few remaining booths, just as an middle aged waitress came up & asked for our order.

“I’ll take some blueberry pancakes & a Jack & Coke please”, Maddie smiled, sitting up straighter & sticking out her chest a little, in a feeble attempt to appear older than her 18 years.

“No she won’t,” I cut in sharply, shooting her a look that told her not to keep pushing me tonight. “We’ll both just take a coffee please, thank you.” The waitress smirked at Maddie & winked, before nodding at me & walking off.

“Maddie, quit while you’re ahead”, I snapped, having had enough of her rebellion for one night. She rolled her eyes & looked away from my glare. Suddenly, something behind me caught her attention because her mouth instantly dropped open & I noticed her cheeks flush a girlish pink.

“Holy shit Beth it’s them, it’s fucking Mötley Crüe!” She whispered, her eyes growing wide & following them as the walked past our table to a booth a few down from where we were sat. “Holy shit, holy shit, I can’t believe it!”

“Mads, seriously, they’re just some guys that have played a couple of crappy shows at the Starwood, they’re not famous. Get a hold of yourself”, I scoffed. I fished in my bag for my textbook just as the waitress came over with our coffee. I thanked her & opened up my book, mentally patting myself on the back for thinking ahead & bringing some sort of study aid with me, being as I couldn’t get started on my paper tonight. I started reading, but Maddies out loud commentary on everything the leather-clad band were doing repeatedly cut in to my studying.

“Oh my god look at them! The bassist is so flirting with that waitress! What th- He’s just started bashing the drummers head on the table!” She laughed. “Beth look! Beth, you’re not looking!”

I sighed & glanced up from my book towards the foursome, just in time to see one of them with long, curly brown hair inhale a cigarette through his nose & blow it out of his mouth. “Charming”, I muttered, getting back to my studies as Maddie giggled like a schoolgirl.

“Do you think I should go over there?” She asked seriously, looking at me with eager eyes.

“Absolutely not!” I snapped, thinking of the heart attack our dad would have if he knew his precious Madeline had hung out with four drunk 20-somethings, dressed head to toe in leather & studs. I looked at Maddie, looking longingly over at this literal motley crew & knew her mind was already made up. “Mads, I mean it!” I hissed at her, as I watched her stand up, playing deaf to my protests.

“I’ll be back in a sec..” & she let her sentence trail off & she strutted over to their table.

“Goddamn it.” I shoved my book back in my bag, zipped it up, left my coffee to go cold & walked over to their table, just as one of them with teased black hair & smeared black lines on his cheekbones pulled Maddie down on to his lap. She was giggling & telling them all how great the show was.

I stopped next to her, hand on my hip & cleared my throat, a little too patronisingly. All five of them looked up at me.

“Maddie, come on, we’ve gotta get home”, I said, making sure that my eyes were conveying to her the anger that I was trying to keep from seeping into my voice.

“Calm down, doll”, the one who’s lap my sister was perched on said, “come join us for a little bit, we’re just getting to know your friend here”. He flashed an arrogant smirk at me that made my skin crawl & my knees go weak all at the same time. I watched his hand slither around Maddies waist & saw her blush once again & giggle.

“She’s not my friend, she’s my little sister & we’re heading home now. Maddie, let’s go.”

“I don’t want to!”, she whined, pouting her lips at me

“Let her have some fun!” exclaimed the beautiful blonde, who I recalled being the singer. “Why don’t you sit down?”, he said, as he grabbed my hand & pulled me into the seat next to him, opposite Maddie & the handsy one with the devilish smirk. “What’s your name?” Handsy asked, downing a shot of Jack.

“Erm, Elizabeth.” I said, a little flustered by how forward they were.

“Lizzy, pleasure to meet you, I’m Nikki Sixx”, he said, removing his hand from stroking my sisters waist & offering it to me for a hand shake.

“Beth, not Lizzy,” I replied, ignoring his outstretched hand. He smirked again, returning his hand, now to my sisters ass. “This is Vince Neil, our singer”, he said, looking at the blonde next to me, “Mick Mars, guitarist”, he nodded towards a slightly older looking man who was sipping from a hip flask before stashing it back in his leather trench coat, “& this is our drummer, To-“

“I’m Tommy, Tommy Lee!”, cut in the boyish, curly haired brunette that I saw smoking through his nose earlier. He was almost as exciteable as Maddie as he stood up & leaned across the table to shake my hand. I instinctively shook it, despite my reservations to shake Nikkis hand. I don’t know what it was, but something about Tommy just felt friendly & warm. I smiled at him as he sat back down.

“So what did you think of the show?” Tommy quizzed, practically bouncing in his seat.

“I loved it! You guys fucking killed it up there.” Maddie gushed, going pink again, as I noticed Nikki grip firmly on her ass as she praised them.

Pig, I thought.

“& what about you Lizzy?” Nikki drawled, that smirk playing on the corners of lips as he followed my eyeline to his hand, reading my mind.

“Not really my sorta thing. Too heavy.” I stated, refusing to break my glare at Nikki. They all laughed at my answer.

“Thank you!” said Nikki, that smirk plastered across his face once again.

“Beth isn’t really into this kinda scene”, Maddie babbled, “she’s always too busy studying to have any actual fun.. I don’t think she even knows how to!” I knew she was only poking fun, but her words irritated & embarrassed me all the same. I gave her a swift kick under the table, only for Nikki to jump as I realised too late that my Dr Marten had instead come in contact with his leg. I blushed awkwardly & he saw, a flash of mischief playing in those pale green eyes as he enjoyed my discomfort.

“You don’t have to play footsie with me doll,” he laughed arrogantly, “just let me know if you’re interested & I’ll swap your sister out for you.”

“Pig,” I mumbled, out loud this time, which only caused him to laugh more.

“Not a fucking chance Sixx, finders keepers.” Grinned Vince, draping his arm around my neck. He looked at me with eyes I knew most girls wouldn’t resist & he gently twisted a piece of my hair around his finger. “So babe, you’re not a fan huh? How can I change your mind?”, he purred, staring at my lips as I scoffed at his advances.

“Write better music”, I laughed. Nikkis head shot round from whispering god knows what in to my little sisters ear & glared at me. “You’ve got a problem with my music?” He snapped, not looking for an answer, but an arguement.

“Told you, it’s not my sort of thing”, I shrugged, not caring if I offended him.

“Of course it’s not”, his voice & his face relaxing slightly, “girls like you never want to admit they like our music. It’s too raw for their clean cut, I’m-too-good-for-everyone image.” He smirked.

“‘Girls like me’?!” I fired back, feeling my face growing hot. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know all about you, Princess. I’ve fucked enough girls like you to know exactly how it goes.” he started, that smirk growing by the second. “First you pretend my music & my lifestyle is beneath you, like you’re too good to party with us. Then you start to get bored & realise how dull your self-obsessed life actually is & you crave some excitement. Then suddenly, a bad boy in your bed seems like a pretty fucking good idea, because I’ll tell you now Princess, we might wear lipstick, but we’ll fuck you better than your preppy jock boyfriends ever could.” Nikki sat back, that smirk wider than ever, as his band mates sniggered around him. I looked at Maddie, who was desperately trying to stifle her girlish giggle.

I saw red. I was ready to slap that smug face & storm out, but that egotistical smile triggered something in me that made me feel bold & brave. I sat there & smirked right back at him. “First of all, you don’t know me. Second, I’m not ‘too good’ to party with you, more like too busy, studying to get a real job so I’m not stuck playing half-assed gigs for 20 people in the Starwood every other weekend for no pay. Second, being ‘self-obsessed’ has taught me one thing.. I fuck me better than you ever could, so what use are you to me?” I heard Tommy laugh out loud before clapping a hand over his mouth. “But yanno,” I continued without breaking eye contact with Nikki, “a bad boy does seem fun..”, I turned to look at Vince, entangled my fingers in his hair & kissed him. I felt him freeze up, then immediately relax & pull me eagerly on to his lap, holding the back of my neck & pulling me in closer. He tasted like whiskey & cigarettes. I pulled away & looked over at Nikki, that smile suddenly gone from his face. Everyone else at the table was staring at me with their mouths open, except for Vince who was smiling from ear to ear. “You’re right about one thing though Nikki.. I am bored.” & with that, I stood up. “Maddie, we’re leaving.”

I grabbed my sisters hand & pulled her up off the devils lap & strutted away, my head high & my heart racing.

“Fucking bitch”, I heard Nikki mumble.

I pushed open the door to the diner & the brisk midnight air hit me in the face. It was a welcome relief. I stood there for a second, my heart still thumping away in my chest from the adrenaline. “Cigarette.” I said to Maddie, extending my hand without looking at her. She obliged, handing one to me, her eyes wide like she was seeing me for the first time. I lit it & took a long drag, the nicotine flooding my system & calming my nerves.

“Who are you?!” Maddie whispered with a smile, finally finding her voice.

“Please, I smoked way before you did, you fucking teenager.” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “I just know how to hide it from daddy better than you.”

“What in the fuck just happened in there?! You just full on tongued the fucking front man of Mötley Crüe! What have you done with my sister?!” She cackled, absolutely bursting with excitement & laughter once again.

“Hey, there were no tongues, ew!” I laughed, “Urgh I don’t know, that goddamn bassist just got to me, I didnt like how he spoke as if he knew me. I wanted to shock him or something, I don’t know..” I let my sentence trail off. In all honesty, I’m wasn’t sure why I kissed Vince. Nikkis voice was ringing in my ears, mocking me & a part of me just wanted prove him wrong.

“I don’t care why you did it, I’m so fucking proud! My dorky big sister, the groupie!” Joked Maddie, jumping up on my shoulders once again.

“I don’t think so, if I never saw that band again, it’d be too soon. Especially that Nikki Sixx.” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Speak of the devil & he shall appear.” Came a velvet smooth voice from behind me. I turned to see the devil in the form of Nikki, leaning against the wall, sparking up a cigarette. He took a drag & walked towards us, fixing his eyes on mine as he walked up to my little sister. He put his fingers under her chin, tilted her head up & pressed his lips against hers. I watched her melt against him, wrapping her arms around his neck & kissing him back. Anger flooded back through me. Who does this asshole think he is? For just a second before he pulled away, his eyes opened & stared at me once again, hoping to see my reaction. Then he removed himself from my sister, flashed a conceited smile my way before looking back at Maddie.

“I hope to see you at one of my gigs soon, doll”, he murmured to her, lazily kissing her on the cheek & turning to walk back inside. “You too Lizzy.” he said.

“It’s Beth,” I shot back, irritated all over again.

“I know,” he said, smirking at me one last time before the door shut behind him.

God, I hated him.

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rogerina-yee-haw · 5 years

Text

"Oranges"

Joe Mazzello x Reader One shot

summary: your elder brother has a best friend and you've been in love with this guy since you were five. But this guy is Joe Mazzello and he doesn't love you back. Or this is just what you think.

word count: 2,4K+

a/n: I wrote this some time ago for my baby @starfleet-wannabe 💓 since my girl received some amazing news this week, I decided to finally post this fic, because Erin deserves a lot of Joe and good stuff in her life ily bby ❤💕💝💞💖

tagging my love @chicagoblackhawkslover96 cause she asked and cause i love her very dearly!💖💕🖤❤✨

warnings: fluff!! fluff!! fluff!! some angst (just a tiny bit), implied smut and typos (as usual lmao)

Oranges.

When you were five, Joe gave you two oranges, because you were crying over a broken toy. He was fifteen, tall and very sweet, while asking you what happened and smiling at you softly. He had been your brother’s best friend since forever, and you grew up having him around; so Joe, hanging out in your house on the regular basis, wasn't an unusual thing.

When he gave you those two oranges - your favorite fruit - your heart skipped a bit for the first time in your life. You didn’t know what happened and why it happened, but you certainly liked the feeling. It made you feel sweet and nice, and you stopped crying immediately. You shared the oranges with Joe as you two were sitting on the grass in your backyard; he kept on smiling and asking about your day - just to distract you from the broken toy.

“Joe!” your brother ran out, panting as he spoke. “Come on, the boys are waiting!”

“I’m having a very serious conversation with your sister, Chris!”

Your brother huffed and winced. “This can wait. Besides, if we don’t go now, Chloe will leave the party”.

You saw the way Joe’s eyes sparked when your brother mentioned the girl’s name, and he got up and left with Chris, telling you to be careful at last. You still remember how your little heart ached when he left.

You accidentally threw an orange at his head when you were fifteen yourself. You aspired to be a juggler and Joe was laughing at you as you were telling him about it.

“You can’t be a juggler,” he said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “Your mom won’t simply let you”.

You rolled your eyes. “I bet your ass, Mazzello. When she sees my skills, she’ll understand that there’s no other choice for me. I’m a great juggler”.

“No, you’re not”.

“You wanna bet?”

He let out a deep sigh and then looked at you; his hazel eyes were scamming you, trying to burn you down - or you would state it like that. You were lost in his gaze. Lost and found only in him. “I’ve never understood your terrible desire to bet on everything, Y/N”.

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “You know I’m good. You’re just a pussy, Mazzello”.

He rolled his eyes at your remark. “We both know that Chris is the biggest pussy in this household. But alright. Show me your skills”.

You took three oranges from the bowl, two in your left hand and one in the right, and took a deep breath. “Goddamn it, Y/L/N, it’s not like your life depends on it or something”.

“Shut up, Joe”.

You started juggling the oranges and it was really bad. They were falling from your hands right on the floor or on the kitchen table; you were picking them up, starting juggling again, and Joe was just wheezing. He was holding his hands on his stomach, cackling and tilting his head back, as he was laughing loudly. He didn’t even notice that you stopped juggling and just kept on laughing. You clenched your jaw and started breathing heavily, as you felt anger rising from your stomach to your chest. You took one orange and threw it right into his forehead, making him jump from his seat and look at you shockingly.

“The fuck are you doing, Y/L/N?”

Your answer was simple. “Juggling”.

As Joe was plotting his revenge, your mom walked into the kitchen, ruining the moment. “Joey! I didn’t know you were back!”

“Yeah, Mrs. Y/L/N, I’m here for a couple of weeks. Life in Los Angeles is very-”

“Boring”, you finished for him. He glared at you and sighed heavily.

“No, Y/N. It is very stressful”.

“Of course it is. Especially with you and Chris working yourselves off there”.

Despite being rather angry with each other, you and Joe involuntary shared glances. Your brother wasn’t the hard-working one, in contrast to Joe.

"So, your mom told me you have a girlfriend. As your god-mother, I would be very happy to see her and approve of your choice”, your mother smiled lightly and you rolled your eyes. Of course, Joe had a girlfriend. Of course. He was twenty-five years old, he should have had someone. At this age, your parents were already married with a child. Of course.

“Oh, trust me, you won’t regret meeting her”.

He smiled so widely and happily that your heart sank, making you believe that you and he would never happen. He was ten years older than you, an actor and your brother’s best friend, who never considered you to be more than a little girl, crying over a broken toy.

Even three years later, when he practically stumbled upon you on your prom night, he still didn’t see you as an adult. You were eighteen then, already legal, wearing a short pink dress, that was giving easy access for observing your long legs - even then Joe didn’t see you as a possible romantic interest.

“Wow, sorry, Y/N”, he said after you hit each other accidentally with your shoulders. He looked you up and down and gave you a cheeky grin. “Going out?”

“Prom night. Waiting for my date”.

He hummed in response. “Got it. Have a nice night. But don’t drink too much. Well, you should drink as it is your senior prom, but don’t get agitated like-”

“Joe”, you interrupted his rambling. “I got it. You can stop giving me a lecture, Chris has already done that today. Twice”.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just…” he sighed as he looked you straight in the eyes. “You just grew up so fast. I still remember you crying over that broken Barbie”. He smiled and your heart melted. Maybe it was the first time you realized that you loved him - desperately and infinitely. You loved his hazel eyes, that were looking right into your soul, his soft ginger hair, his sweet smile and him.

You felt your breath hitching, and your eyes started looking everywhere but at Joe - and it was a straight sign of you being nervous and flustered. So you tried to hide it, by chucking and turning your head away. “Yeah, I guess. That Barbie was pretty important to me, you know”. He laughed and scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah, I remember. Good luck tonight, Y/N”.

He remembered. Your heart pounded crazily in your chest throughout the whole night; and not because your date was a hot guy who wanted to get in your pants the entire time, but because Joe remembered. You came back home in the morning, with messy hair and your lipstick smudged all over your face from kissing with your date; only to find a glass of water, an orange, and a note on your bedside table.

“Oranges help with the hungover. Trust me. Joe.”

Now you were twenty-five, the same age Joe was when you threw an orange at his head. You couldn't call yourself a juggler, because the only thing you juggled with were your emotions as you were on the edge of mental breakdown while working with kids. Teaching maths in middle-school made you go crazy, as your students didn’t always listen to what you said. You saw your family rarely and, instead, you saw Joe almost every day. You couldn’t get enough of each other when you stumbled upon one another in February.

He just got back from filming “Bohemian Rhapsody” and you were coming home after a long day of dealing with middle-schoolers. You met in Starbucks and hearing him say, “Sugar honey iced tea, Y/N!” made your day much better. It also brought back all the feelings you had for him, all the love you tried to get rid of your entire life. You lived in a small flat with your cat Nancy and had a failed engagement behind your shoulders. And Joe was the sun that shined through the darkness and brought you back to life. He had breakups, heartbreaks and a lot of pain in his life, but still remained happy and excited about everything. At that moment you hadn’t seen each other for a year - and it seemed that it would take you the same amount of time to catch up on. You had talked for three hours, looking at each other and slightly touching one another. His gaze was constantly fixed on you, as he was looking at your face, into your eyes and staring quite obviously at your lips. You were giggling like crazy at every joke he told, tucking your hair behind your ears and biting your lips. You were all grown and legal, you thought, he should do something with it.

You were by Joe’s side through his darkest and saddest moments, holding his hand and hugging him tightly, while he was crying, clinging onto you as if his life depended on it. You spent more time with him rather than with your family, and your mother noticed it but didn’t say anything. She just silently watched Joe finally falling in love with you.

Summer was nearing its end, and you and Joe were even closer now. You spent too much time together for it just to be called “friendship”. You used to hang out at his place much more, as it was bigger and you liked it more than your own. He said yours was much cozier and he couldn't stop gushing about Nancy who seemed to love him even more than her rightful owner.

In August your childhood friend invited you to her wedding, and Joe was your “+1”, as you just couldn't show up alone to the wedding where you ex-fiance should have been with his new girlfriend. Your ex didn’t even bother you that much, you just wanted to be with Joe. As you have always wanted.

He held your hand and had his arm over your shoulder the entire time, and you kept smiling non-stop. At one point, when you were standing outside, shaking under the cool summer wind, he wrapped his jacket around your shoulders and kissed you. He tasted the way you always imagined - like oranges and summer. You answered to his kiss, leaning in closer, trying to get as much of him as possible. When he pulled away, you both were breathing heavily and grinning.

“Wanted to do it since February”, he whispered, and it sent shivers down your spine. You smiled softly and took his face in your hands, and kissed him again. You couldn't get enough of him. He couldn't get enough of you. That led to you two going to his apartment.

You ripped each other’s clothes off and you squeaked - you didn’t have anything else to wear to go home in the morning. “Don’t think I’ll let you go that easily”, Joe said in between kisses and you smiled, taking his blazer off.

Since you were introduced to the world of sex, you had been dreaming of this moment. You spent hours, thinking of Joe - while masturbating or regularly daydreaming or even when having sex with any of your partners. You imagined him like this, between your legs, fucking you into oblivion, too many times; but in reality, everything was much better. Joe kissed you feverishly, hungrily, like he had been starving for eternity. You both were sweaty, out of breath and happy.

"That's a weird thing to do", he noticed when the two of you were having breakfast at eleven in the morning, too fucked out to wake up earlier after hours of devouring each other.

"What exactly?" you furrowed your brows and looked at him.

“Eating oranges with coffee for breakfast", he shrugged his shoulders.

"Your fucking fridge is empty! Oranges are the only eatable thing in there. Or do you expect me to eat that old sandwich?"

"It's not old! It's been there just for a week."

"It's rotten, Mazzello."

"No, it's not! You don't understand how a refrigerator works apparently!"

"Well, enlighten me then, you fucking smartass!"

And the way he spoke about the work of the fridge - telling you his one was the most special on the planet - made you fall into him deeper and deeper. You realized that you hadn't ever even loved before Joe - and was it, ever, a-before-Joe phase? It seemed to be non-existent. You had spent your whole life, trying to run away from these feelings, trying to fall for someone else, just to forget him. But it wasn't possible. Ever.

So when he kept on ranting about fridges and how his sandwich was not rotten - you felt in love with him more than at any time before. It was something magical about this moment: the sun was piercing through the window, Joe's eyes glued to yours and - oh god - you didn't know it was possible to love someone that much.

"So when you say it's rotten, it's really-"

"I've been in love with you since I was five", you blurted out, being completely unable to control your emotions. Joe stopped talking and stared at you, without even blinking.

"W-What?"

"It's stupid", you gulped; why on Earth would you even say that out loud? "I shouldn't have said it. I don't want to put any pressure on you, it's idiotic, we just fucked for once and I'm already saying this type of shit-"

"Me too".

Your brows drew together. "What?"

"I've been in love with you too", he said firmly, and you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "Not since I was five or something, you weren't even born then", Joe started babbling like a little kid and it made you chuckle; but you could already feel the tears forming in your eyes. "Maybe for a year. Maybe when I saw you with that piece of shit you were going to marry - maybe then I realized that I've been hopelessly and stupidly in love with you, Y/N".

Joe's eyes sparkled in the soft sun that was gleaming throughout the kitchen and you felt like crying just because of a loving look you saw in them. It was this pure bliss you had been dreaming about. It was everything you could have ever asked for.

And it was Joe. The man you fell in love with too long ago. And you couldn't be happier.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzelo imagine #joe mazzello fanfiction #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello fluff #imagine #fic #fanfiction #my writing

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neuroticphysiologist · 4 years

Text

"First Demolition Derby, Check."

For FabFiveFeb - Alan

@gumnut-logic

Giving this a try...

Prompts: "dirt road", "I wish"

This is a flashback, going back to Alan's high school days, let's say eleventh grade, and I have my OCs here as his schoolmates. This was also before the Alan and Kayo moments, or Alan and Tintin moments, if you're thinking about the classic.

Bear with me, guys, this theme is new to me. I've been writing random fan fics for almost a decade, but for this fandom, I would like to give it a try.

And yes, first person POV, which I'm comfortable with.

I'm a bit nervous posting this tho...

Rated T.

***

Alan

This was when my schoolmates saw me drive like a real racer.

Our old fellow Rick took us to his dad's old abandoned racing track. His dad was a racer in the mid 21st century and he also modified his car with technology from 2040. Rick really got his racing attitude from his dad, and he said that he wanted to be like him someday.

The racing track is Rick's practice field, and he can now use it with his friends for small fun racing. There were also old trucks and buses at the side, those were used for racing now, instead of secondhanded cars.

Going back, Mike picked three of the best junior racers of Rick's track. Luther, or Leather Luther as they call him during races, is of course, the guy who usually wears leather jackets. He is known for his agility when it comes to driving. Next we have Ted the Flash, who obviously likes to go fast. Then the co-owner of the racing track himself, Rick, or Rad Ricky. And two more to go to occupy the trucks.

Mike looked at me and my closest friend Skye like he adored two lovers. Here's a brief story about me and Skye.

We met during English class in seventh grade. We almost have the same interests and we go on random adventures together. She's the only one who knows that I'm from International Rescue, since she got into a major invention mishap with Otis that took them to outer space, and I rescued them along with John. That was a test rocketship that they modified. Oh, and Otis knows me too.

We stay together as friends. Sometimes my brothers tease me because they think that we're a perfect match. We always hang out, those were the moments that we get to know each other better. We never thought about serious relationship because, of course, age, and her parents did not approve of that yet. Anyways, Skye's the coolest friend I've ever had.

Okay, going back, Mike picked her, aka Sassy Skye, since he knows that she rides motorbikes and going fast too. And he picked me too, which I don't want to, first of all. My schoolmates have never seen me race. Yeah, I like to go fast, but not as fast as I go when I fly Thunderbird 3, since I don't want to blow my cover.

"Okay, fine," I said. "But this is the last time you're gonna see me race."

I'm used to driving on the asphalt, but this was my first driving on the dirt road.

The three hurriedly picked their old favorite. What Skye got was a zombie-themed truck, and what's left for me is a grayish bus that looks like a truck for food delivery or something like that. Then we are ready to roll, with all systems go and engines roaring like... a cat, I guess. Since you know, old buses?

Mike waved the flag and the race started. We accelerated, but it turns out that my truck is slower than I thought. Damn, they got me a truck with the lowest horsepower out of all five. I wish this could go a little faster... actually, a lot faster.

"Alan, that shit has a turbo power you can use," Mike called. "I just modified that."

"Oh," I replied back. "Why didn't you say so?"

Here goes...

It went as fast as Rick's favorite truck. There we go!

Leather Luther bumped into Ted and he lost the race because his opponent was stronger. Looks like it turned into a demolition derby.

"You again, you old bastard?" Luther yelled. "That was the third time!"

Ted dashed off with a cackle.

The fight was on, and Skye and I were trying to avoid the wrestle.

Oops, too late.

Ted bumped onto my truck. I tried my best to get away and pass him. I achieved the obstacle, and it's now down to me, Rick, and Skye.

"Can't believe you got me, Tracy!"

But then, Rad Ricky crashed the windows from Skye's bus. He took her down, luckily she landed safely. She stormed out of her bus and threw her helmet at Rick's truck. "You nasty son of a bitch!"

It was down to me and Rick. Tough race though, it was novice versus expert of the track. I did what I can to pass him but he bumps onto me. Alright, the fight is on.

I tried to get away, but we kept on bumping, until we accidentally hit a stadium light. It fell, caused some sparks, and it landed near my truck. I got away from Rick, he accidentally went off the track, and now I took the lead. Except that the back of my truck is on fire because of the broken stadium light that fell on it.

I looked around my spot if there's a gallon of water or fire extinguisher to stop it. I tried to hit the brakes but they're stuck. I accidentally broke the emergency brake too. My only option is to get out of the truck but I was going too fast and I'm trying to find a way to stop it.

The crew chased me, and Skye hopped on my truck.

"Alan, your truck is on fire!"

"I know!" I yelled. "I have to stop this first, but my brakes aren't working!"

"Try to break the turbo power to slow it down."

"Oh, right!"

I grabbed an axe to break the turbo power machine, and it worked. The truck is moving slower.

"It worked," I said. "But we still have to make this thing stop."

Skye had a quick view at where I'm going. "Hey, how about a hay?"

"That would work."

"Otis and Luther got extinguishers ready."

"Great. Let's get out of here!"

We jumped off the truck and it stopped when it reached a bunch of hay. Then Otis and Luther hurriedly put out the fire. The race is over.

"That... was... fuckin' awesome!" Ted jumped up.

"Awesome?" I stared at him. "My truck was on fire!"

"Don't worry, Alan," Rick said. "We've been through that before. Otis' truck was on fire in the middle of the race. He jumped off and almost sprained his ankle, but he's okay. That's why we have our extinguishers ready."

Mike exclaimed. "What's awesome is you won. That was your first race here, but you won!"

"And you're one of the few guys who beat Ricky in a truck race," Luther added.

"You did a cool move back there too," Skye held my hand.

"Thanks, guys," I smiled.

Our conversations continued and Rick wanted to talk to me more.

"Maybe next time, Alan, wanna go?"

"Hmm... maybe?"

"We'll decide when will be our next race."

Not that easy as I expected like from one of my favorite video games, but that went well.

(End of flashback)

"And you guys were safe?" Scott asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Rick got that all covered."

"Why didn't you tell me about that before? Your truck was on fire, Alan."

"Sorry, Scott. I thought you're gonna be mad at me for driving a truck at maximum power and accidentally got it on fire."

"Well at least you're okay, and they were prepared. Although, we can improve your car's settings while waiting for Virgil and Gordon."

"Wow, thanks, bro!"

***

I tried my best... apologies for some confusion.

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2020 #alan tracy #my first fan fic in this site check #neurotic phys tag

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