#'you ever notice how weird this situation is?' // barb

[abbuniverses]

now that barb's a winner technically now is probably a good time to post this

au shenanigans where phyllis and barb's magical girl transformations are actually a fusion of the two named agatha. she's the worst qualities of both teehee

[picklypickle]

- The only one -

a/n: hiii everyone!! this is my first little story, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, if you want to see more of my writing feel free to send me a request!! Enjoy! ;) words: 1.9k

warnings: tiny bit of swearing, I wrote this with a fem reader, kinda jealous Melissa

When you walk into the staff room in the morning, the first person you notice is your beautiful girlfriend, sitting at her usual table, sipping her coffee with her work wife, Barb, right next to her. At first, she doesn’t notice you, being way too preoccupied by whatever story Barbara is telling. But when she does turn to you, with a frown still on her face from the conversation that was happening prior, her gaze softens and she gives you a soft smile only you can recognize as an “I love you”.

“There she is!” you hear Jacob saying from across the room “Where were you? How come you didn’t get here at the same time as Melissa? Oh no, did you guys fight?” He nervously says as he quickly makes his way over to you.

“Nooo!! No no, I was just running a little bit late so I told Mel to leave without me, thank you for your concern tho!” you laugh.

Everyone at Abbott knew you and Melissa were together, infact, they were the ones who had gotten you two together in the first place, six months ago and they were the biggest fans too. If anything ever happened between you two, your colleagues would probably be more crushed than you and your own girlfriend.

You hear the teacher’s lounge door open and turn around to see who it might be. Suddenly, one of your very close friends and fellow teacher at Abbott, Lauryn, bursts into the room with her usual smile plastered on her face. When she sees you waving, she makes her way over to you.

“Hey girl!! Such a nice day today huh?” she says.

“It is! Oh my god I love your dress!!” you exclaim as you look up and down at her outfit. She is wearing the most beautiful flower patterned dress. You make a mental note to look online for a similar one when you get home tonight.

“Thank you so much!! You know, I bet it would make that perfect ass of yours stand out, you should get one.” She says and proceeds to lick her lips.

You blush out of embarrassment. Did she forget you are with someone? Even worse, that Melissa is literally sitting not even 2 meters from where this very awkward interaction just took place and heard it? You quickly try and look at Jacob, trying to see if he heard the same thing, but unfortunately, he has already left and is talking to Gregory. You quickly glance over at your girlfriend who you can tell very well, has her fists clenched so hard and is fuming right now.

“Uh, thanks!” you try to say as normally as possible, trying to hide the confusion in your face.  “Um anyways, I really have to go, the kids are going to get here soon.” You quickly say and wave goodbye, smiling at her. You rush out of the room, wanting to get away from this whole situation as fast as possible. However, Melissa notices this weird behavior, as she is getting up to come check on you Barb sits her back down. 

“Melissa, you heard what she said, the kids will be getting here soon, she probably just wants to prepare everything.” she says “And besides i'm not done with my story yet, so sit back down.” she adds, while tugging at her sleeve to bring her back down.

When you get to your classroom, you start writing everything you need down on the board, such as the date and the kids schedule that they can rely on during the day. While you’re writing with your favouite purple dry erase marker, your mind starts to wander off. You start to think about how everyone has been telling you for weeks now that Lauryn might be in love with you, but you’ve just been denying it and shrugging it off. But now, you’re starting to wonder if it’s actually true. It’s not like you’re into Lauryn or anything, you have the best girlfriend in the world! Infact, Lauryn’s flirty comments are starting to make you feel uncomfortable, you thought she knew that you were dating Melissa…maybe she forgot?

Before you know it, the bell rings and your little kiddos are running in and hugging you like they normally do every morning. You snap out of your thoughts and start your lesson, you’ll deal with the issue eventually, but for now, all that matters is your students.

★

After lunch was your free period while your students were in gym class. Today, you preferred to avoid everyone and stay in your classroom to do some grading on the most recent test.

Just as you put a sticker on the last copy, you hear a soft knock at the door, you turn arround expecting to see Melissa but you’re met with Lauryn’s grin, holding her cellphone.

“Hey! Am I bothering you?” She asks, peeking into your classroom to see if anyone else is there.

“Nope, I just finished grading these papers.” You reply, gesturing to the stack of documents on the corner of your desk.

“Ahhh alright well, I need to show you this video, it’s so us!” She says excitedly and comes to stand next to where you’re sitting down.

You start to watch the video but quickly realise it’s dedicated to couples… you stop paying attention and focus more on the reflection of the glass of the phone, when you see Lauryn, she’s not.. looking at the video? You try to see what she’s looking at and realize that she is staring directly at your cleavage, practically drooling too. You get red. You get uncomfortable. You start to pray for her to leave or someone to wal-

Someone knocks at the door, again.

“Am I interrupting something?” You look up, recognizing the voice. 

Melissa is standing at the door, hands on her hips.

“Oh hey Melissa!” says Lauryn “You aren’t interrupting anything, I was just showing Y/N this video.” She goes to show Mel the clip.

Your girlfriend clearly also realizes the video is meant for couples and clears her throat, crossing her arms. This makes you look up at her. You can see that she’s jealous, she is part of the group of people that think Lauryn is in love with you and she is also not having it right now.

“Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it!” Says Lauryn, she waves goodbye at the two of you and walks out of your classroom. Clearly she knows that you and Mel are together, so what is this all about?

You and your girlfriend stare at eachother for what feels like forever, until you decide to speak up first.

“Look I d-” You start.

“What the hell was that?” Your girlfriend cuts you off.

“Listen Melissa, I have no idea she just, ugh!” You say, being exhausted from this whole situation “Please don’t be mad, I don’t feel like fighting, I’ll talk to her later.” You finish.

“Hon,I'm not mad, heck if anything I'm jealous!” she says, uncrossing her arms and slowly walking towards you “She’s always making these comments and remarks about your body and undressing you with her eyes! I’m the only one who gets to do that here. And the worst part is, I can tell you hate it, it makes you extremely uncomfortable.” She continues, bending down infront of you and resting her hands on the armrests of your chair. You blush, she knows you perfectly.

“It does.” You say, getting more and more red. You quickly look down at her lips, unknowingly licking your own. The redhead in front of you notices.

“I know it does” she answers, bending her face down to yours, your mouths are inches away from each other “And no, i’ll be the one to do something about it.” 

You smile before kissing her softly, she kisses you back with just as much softness. After a moment, the kiss starts to turn more and more hungry. She places her hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You smile into the kiss. The school bell suddenly rings, signaling that you have to go get your kids from the gym. 

You groan as you pull away from her mouth

“Fuck, I have to go get my kids at the gym! I’m so sorry Mel, I'll talk to you later!” You quickly peck her lips before exiting your class.

Melissa stays there for a moment, smiling to herself, thinking about how much she loves you. 

★

It’s the end of the day, you students have alrea dy gone home and all that’s left to do is go down to the teacher’s lounge to collect your things that you had left there. 

When you get there, you’re greeted by all your friends who are also gathering their things.

“Hey girl, did you have a good day? I didn’t see you around much?” Asks Janine, with a small frown, her face slightly coated in worry.

“Yes I had a good day, I just had a lot of grading to do and preferred to do it in my own space.” You reply reassuringly.

“Oh okay!” She smiles at you.

“Hey, uh, Y/N?” You recognize the voice, it’s Lauryn “Do you think maybe.. you’d wanna um, get drinks or something tonight?” She asks nervously.

“Uh, um” you have no idea what to say “I uh..”

Melissa, who was talking to Barb as per usual, notices you and Lauryn right away and decides that this is her time to shine, this is where this little Lauryn thing stops. 

“Hey, Lauryn?” Melissa says while approaching you from behind “Have you ever noticed in the last six months that, I don’t know, me and Y/N are dating? Or did you just think we were joking?”

“Oh! Well..” The girl in front of you says 

“Save it glasses, and save up that money for a new pair because this one isn’t working” Mel says “Now back the fuck off before I throw you down the stairs and the only drinks you’ll be getting are jello cups from the hospital” She finishes, before quickly turning around to grab her things and you by the arm and dragging you out the door.

“Oh, bye guys!!” She loudly says to everyone else in the room to make sure everyone heard.

“Bye Melissa!” Janine awkwardly says and makes her way towards Lauryn to check on her, not to comfort her, just to make sure no one ends up hating her in the future.

★

When you get to Melissa’s car, you can’t help but smile at her, and then well, laugh. You had no idea she was going to do this right then and there but she did. She joins the laughing fit after a few seconds.

“Oh how I love you!” You kiss her passionately before turning to your own car “I’ll see you at home sweetheart!” You yell at her before shutting your car door and starting your engine.

“I love you more hon, i’ll cook you your favorite pasta for dinner!” She yells back before shutting her car door as well.

With that, you both drive away to where was originally only Melissa’s house, but is now yours too, and you plan on it being for a very long time. Plus, you get to look for that new dress you want! 

[acowardinmordor]

Warning in advance: it’s Steddie, but not happily ever after.

So. Steve Harrington who becomes romance repulsed. Let’s go with he and Nancy get back together and the second break up is even worse. He and Rob move away and Steve tries again, and Amy is wonderful and he loves her but she never trusts Robin, and something about the way that one ended ugly gets wrapped up with everything romantic and breaks inside him.

He still likes romance as a concept, in the abstract, in a hypothetical. But applied to himself? Immediately throws him back into memories of those breakups. He’s genuinely thrilled for Robin and her new girlfriend. Max and Lucas go on a sweet trip together and it’s objectively wonderful. It’s fine, as long as he doesn’t imagine himself in that situation.

Hookups are okay. The girl can’t be named Amy or Nancy. Or Robin or Erica or Max or Chrissy or Barb or—

Guys are easier. Cruising is the easiest. No one is looking for love or morning kisses. He rarely even trades names.

Robin hates it. Not just because she knows that Steve isn’t being safe enough when he goes out, but because he’s accepted the way it is. That he’ll never get to have anything close to Romance, and that trying to get past the way his stomach curdles isn’t worth it. He’s not unhappy, they both love Chicago, even when lake effect snow traps them inside. But that’s her soulmate, and he’s the sappiest romantic she’s ever met. He isn’t one for poetic metaphors, so the closest he gets is saying “it’s like when a banana has one of those gross spots. It’s still good. You can still eat it, you just have to scoop out that section”

And he refuses to see it as a problem.

Eddie eventually gets tired of New York and joins them. It’s not a shock when, a couple months after he moves, Eddie and Steve sleep together. Steve is like that now, attaches no meaning to any of his hookups. He and Eddie have been trading stories about gay bars and cruising for the last two years. And they sleep together again the month after. And again two weeks later.

At least Steve is always meticulously safe with Eddie, cause god knows he isn’t safe the rest of the time.

And it’s fine. Steve has closed up that whole section of himself. Doesn’t look at it, doesn’t think about it. He makes it absolutely clear that it’s just a friends with benefits situation. That he does not want more than that, that they aren’t exclusive, and that he’ll end it if Eddie tries to make it more. He still hooks up with strangers, guys and girls, whenever he feels like it. And it’s fine. For Steve it’s fine.

Not so much for Eddie. They’d stayed friends, and he and Robin talk even more now in Chicago. He knew that Steve didn’t do romance. He thought Robin was exaggerating about how bad it really is. He thought, storyteller that he is, that maybe he could make it better if he stayed and proved to Steve that it was safe to try again. And yeah, he wants Steve to try with him, but once he sees how much of Steve is missing, he’s happy to be a recovery step if that’s what helps.

So Eddie keeps saying yes, then initiates it more when he and Rob notice that Steve isn’t just safe with Eddie, he’s safer for Eddie. The condoms Robin has been shoving into Steve’s pockets get used more often now. And sure, Eddie wants to scream every time Steve flinches away. And yeah, it creates a weird gulf where Eddie can be his friend, or can be his lover, but never both at the same time.

Eddie keeps a lid on it though. Never let’s his growing love for the guy show. Does what he can to keep encouraging Steve to at least use the condoms if he’s going to fuck strangers. It’s wonderful and it’s awful and it gets worse as the boundary of what Steve considers Romance gets clearer. Then the boundary gets bigger.

They can Fuck on the couch, but they can’t sit next to each other while watching a movie. Steve starts avoiding kissing. Starts avoiding eye contact during, then at all.

It’s not a shock when Steve ends it. Robin confirms what Eddie already knew. They were too close to becoming something Steve can’t even think about without feeling sick to his stomach. Eddie never, ever let it show, which means that Steve was too close to romance, too close to thinking of Eddie as more.

But you can’t help someone who thinks there isn’t a problem. Steve is still a great friend, a great person, and neither Robin nor Eddie are going to walk away over this. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t break their hearts to see him recoil from any hint at him having what was always his dream life.

[absolutepokemontrash]

Aaa congrats on 666 :D you've been one of my favorite obey me blogs since I joined the fandom! can I request the brothers with an mc that looks/acts like they just walked out of a zombie apocalypse? Turns out that while the demons werent looking, things in the human realm went down hill ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

👀 I love this! Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy!

Lucifer

When Solomon popped down into the Devildom earlier, Lucifer had noticed that the sorcerer looked a tad… concerned. After he left, Lucifer thought nothing of it until the second human exchange student appeared brandishing a gun and looking like they hadn’t showered in eight days.

After managing to disarm the human and avoiding the baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire, Lucifer managed to explain exactly why the human was in the Devildom and what was going on. In return, the human calmed down and explained what was going on in the human world.

…geez, shit really hit the fan. Uh… Lucifer wished them luck in their exchange year and foisted them off on Mammon. Lucifer was not about to deal with that right then.

(Apparently one of Solomon’s necromancing acquaintances had something to do with the mini apocalypse going on in the human world. Lucifer and MC were assured that the zombie problem was being dealt with)

As confused and annoyed as Lucifer was at first, he quickly became glad that the human had some kind of self defence on them. The Devildom was a dangerous place, and the human could nullify some of that danger by popping a bullet or twelve into some idiots’ heads.

But one of MC’s more annoying habits were their tendency to set traps and hoard food. They didn’t seem to grasp that lack of food wasn’t an issue and that there were plenty of spells in place to make sure-

Okay, Beel just raided the fridge. Maybe MC had the right idea. Up for sharing some spaghetti-o’s?

Mammon

Now listen here! The Great and Amazing and Mega-Sexy Mammon wasn’t scared of the human at all! Got it?! Good. He wasn’t scared of how dishevelled and dirty they were and how they looked like they just crawled out of a horror movie! Not at all! He also wasn’t scared of the baseball bat they threatened to hit him with if he continued to spout threats of eating them.

Pff, he wasn’t scared… totally not scared… *ahem*

Once the human took a bath and stopped pointing their various weapons at him, Mammon quickly began to warm up to the human in their own tsundere kind of way. Fine, he could admit that MC was kinda cool.

The one thing that Mammon just couldn’t deal with was MC’s traps… he kept setting them off while trying to get into MC’s room!

Oi! Don’t look at him like that! He wasn’t tryin’ to steal anything! He also wasn’t goin’ in there to hang out with the dumb human either! Wasn’t goin’ in there to check on em’ and make sure they were comfortable…

Mammon is also #2 in terms of food theft in the house. He just spotted ramen and decided that possibly getting hit with MC’s baseball bat of pain was worth getting his greedy little mitts on some dollar store noodles.

Leviathan

When Levi went downstairs to threaten Mammon for his money back, Levi immediately recoiled at the absolutely fowl smell coming from the human. Ew, normie stink was getting all over him! And why did they look like they just walked out of TellTale’s The Walking Dead?

Once MC explained their situation, Levi took it upon himself to mansplain the zombie apocalypse to the poor human that was going through it. He had played plenty of zombie survival games and he was surely the expert-

AAKSJAKAJANA- PUT THE BAT DOWN! HE’LL SHUT UP! HE’LL SHUT UP!

After that was over and done with, Levi decided it would be his job to reintroduce MC to some quality entertainment. There couldn’t be that many good shows to watch in the apocalypse, so MC (starved for entertainment) agreed to watch whatever Levi wanted.

Food hoarding? Been there done that. Levi keeps at least ten boxes of Pocky in his room at all times, and a crap ton of other snack foods too. That habit doesn’t phase Levi.

The traps on the other hand? HELL YES TEACH HIM MC! THAT’LL WARD OFF SOME SCUMMY MORONS! *insert Levi cackle here*

Satan

Satan was amongst the people who had the privilege of getting a gun pointed at them on the first day of the exchange program. He kept his fake little smile on his face, but he sure as hell wasn’t too pleased with the human.

He kept his distance at first, studying MC from afar and taking note of their weird little habits. Satan found it quite interesting how quickly this seemingly average human adapted to their new circumstances.

After the body switching incident and the murder train incident, Satan developed a fondness for MC. But… maybe MC shouldn’t have brought their weapons with them on one of their hangout sessions with Satan.

It was on that day that MC learned that Satan was as good a shot with a gun as they were… Rest in Pieces to the idiot that decided fucking with the Avatar of Wrath would be a good idea.

The traps… oh yes the traps… that exact skill set transferred perfectly to pranks! Oh if MC would be so kind as to let Satan teach them the way of the bastard (tm) so the two of them could annoy that pompous peacock together?

Asmodeus

Ewwwww! What was that awful stench coming from the- EWWWWW! Why was the human so gross and dirty! Someone get the hose! They summoned a feral one!

Asmo was less concerned with the fact that the human was threatening everyone with an actual weapon and more concerned with how they smelled like a month old macaroni salad.

MC got a bottle of admittedly pleasant smelling soap thrown at them before Mammon dragged them off to the HOL.

Despite the nasty first impression, once MC took a much needed bath and washed all that gross grime off of themselves… they were honestly really hot… man, apocalypses should happen more often if they produce babes like MC~ *eyebrow wiggle*

Though, the poor human still needed some work, Asmo declared himself their fairy goddaddy (I regret ever learning how to type) and took every opportunity to make sure MC looked their best and took care of themselves.

MC’s odd habits don’t exactly phase Asmo much, I mean, look at who he lives with.

Beelzebub

…he doesn’t wanna eat this human.

Listen, Beel will eat anything, but if he has other options, he’s not eating the gross dirty human pointing a gun at him.

At first, Beel’s pretty neutral towards anything and everything MC ends up doing. They barricaded themselves in their room to keep safe out of habit? Okay. They scarily polish and clean their weapons out in the middle of the living room? So does Satan on occasion. They cleared out the fridge- wait they cleared out the fridge?

BEEL WAS GOING TO DO THAT! PREPARE TO BE EATEN, HUMAN!

MC miraculously survived a hungry Beel attack by chucking food at him until he calmed back down. Beel felt a little bad for scaring them, but anyone with more than five brain cells should know not to steal food from the Avatar of Gluttony.

Anyway, once the two get closer, Beel’s always there for a hug and comfort if MC needs it. Just don’t let him near the food hoard. He will reduce it to nothing in less than an hour.

More than 90% of the traps that get set off are set off by Beel trying to get into MC’s room for food.

Belphegor

Father Dammit, Belphie wanted a nice easy defenceless human to murder, not this Rambo-lookalike. Whatever, sure the human looked tough, but Belphie’s a demon.

Well… Belphegor’s plan went to shit when he was in the middle of choking the human, who pulled out a gun and nearly shot him in the eye. He ended up dropping them in surprise when the bullet grazed his face and ended up getting MC’s boot planted into his forehead.

Yeah… Belphie did not fare well. MC: 1 Belphie: 0

After that nonsense, Belphie demanded begged that MC become his full time nap guardian. They were scary and could protect him, the totally defenceless war criminal 🥺, come on MC, don’t be heartless!

Similar to Asmo, Belphie isn’t too phased by MC’s weird habits. As long as they don’t try and steal his pillows, he’s okay. Those traps though… perfect for a certain older brother of his…

He joins in on Satan’s crusade to get MC to join the Anti Lucifer League. Puh-LEEEEEEEAAAAAASE MC?

[honeyabyss]

Can you make the characters reacting to MC just... Swearing with alternative swear words because they feel guilty actually swearing? like, instead of F***, they say duck. And instead of sh**, they say sheep or shoot. And etc. Headcanons pls :3 Thx

I struggled a bit with this so it's pretty short, still hope you like it!

Lucifer:

"Do you have the report for Diavolo finished?"

your eyes widened in realization that the deadline was today and you didn't even notice how you 'cursed'

Lucifer just stares at you amused

he will most definitely tease you with it, watch him occasionally use your alternative swear words as well just to fluster you

at one point he will ask you as to why you're using these words as he is curious about your cute habit

will indulge you in ignoring your habit without commenting on it, but he probably will smile whenever you do it

he will absolutely threaten anyone who dares to make fun of you for this...no one is allowed to make fun of you except him

Mammon:

this boy is so confused when you out of nowhere just scream "duck", because you hit your toe at the table leg

like where? he doesn't see a duck?!

you have to explain to him that you just don't like to curse

Mammon probably won't understand why, but will instead 'translate' every time you do it

"Don't worry guys, there isn't an actual duck here...they just curse weird..."

let's be honest though, as weird as he finds it, he will probably start doing it too, it happens subconsciously, because he spends so much time around you

Leviathan:

this co-op game was so not yours, you constantly failed and felt so bad Levi was still trying his best to teach you

you got so frustrated that you let out a string of 'swear words'

that time the game over screen showed, because Levi didn't even try to play, he just stared at you

when you explain what just happened, he instantly gets it

"That's so cute!!! It fits you better than real curse words anyway!"

he'll get so weirdly invested in this, like he'll ask you to repeat the words, because he thinks you look so adorable when you 'curse'

Satan:

you had just accidentally spoiled the ending of a book to Satan and panicked, a 'swear word' slipped you

you expected Satan to be so mad at you, but instead he is really calm and looks at you as if you're the most interesting thing he ever saw

"Could you repeat that? Did you mispronounce it, because I'm sure given the situation you meant to say-"

you explain your little problem of feeling guilty and he thoughtfully nods along

this man is sweet in the weirdest way, he will try to come up with new words for you to curse with so you have more options to choose from

will tease you with it every time you say one though

Asmodeus:

you knock over the nail polish bottle Asmo is currently using and quietly 'curse' while you try to fix the mess and clean up the spilled colour

you won't be able to clean much though, because Asmo traps you in a hug, squeezing your frame while he tells you how cute that was

he won't even ask why you do it, he just accepts it as a part of your personality

"Oh sheep! Lucifer please I didn't mean to have you in the background of my latest Devilgram post really!"

he will use them now too, thinks it fits his beautiful appearance more than using foul swear words

he will hug, coo or pat your head every time you 'swear', it's just too much cuteness coming from you

Beelzebub:

you mumble one while you spill some food, which Beel instantly cleans up for you

he won't even notice it the first time, only later when it happens again and someone else points it out he as well will notice

"Oh you don't like to swear? That's alright, just use whatever you're comfortable with"

sweet boy melting your heart with his never-ending support

he won't say anything more to you 'cursing' but he will have this small smile of understanding

he will go feral if someone makes fun of you though, good luck holding him back

Belphegor:

this brat will laugh so hard, when you yell "duck" while running to RAD, because the both of you overslept

"You're such a weirdo! Just say the actual curse word, it's easy! Repeat after me: fuc-"

he gets stopped by your hand on his mouth and an angry glare

will chuckle but let it slip....for now

will say the actual curse word out loud every time you 'curse'

if it really bothers you, he will stop, but you can't take away his laughing fits, it's just way too amusing to him

Diavolo:

"Is this a human thing? Only you? That's fine, it makes you just even more special!"

you let one accidentally slip, while having tea with him and he changes the topic to curse words for the rest of the day

He is honestly interested in your reasons for feeling guilty, as he never thought of it like that, but will accept it no matter what you choose to answer or not answer in case you want to keep the reasoning to himself

when he is around you, he will make sure curse words are less used, he himself uses them rarely already, as such words aren't exactly eloquent to use as a prince, even as one of hell

he tries to stay serious when you 'curse', but sometimes he can't stop himself from chuckling

he is as well one of the 'make-new-curse-words-up'-squad, a) because he wants help you and has lots of fun trying to be creative and b) because he wants to be able to use 'swear' in front of Barbatos without him noticing (he will catch on though and scold Dia)

Barbatos:

his expressions stays the same, you aren't even sure if he noticed

is he being polite and pretends he didn't notice? Did he already know of your habit? Maybe he actually didn't notice?

whatever it is, you're conversation just keeps going as if nothing has happened

"Shoot..."

yes, Barb just whispered 'shoot' after realizing how late it already was

Barb himself has an image to uphold as a butler, but sometimes curse words aren't avoidable, so he learned to use harmless words as alternatives

he didn't react, because he simply saw it as normal

Solomon:

"Seriously? You're an exchange student in hell, having pacts with seven of the most powerful demons, but use 'sheep' istead of sh*t?"

he is more than amused, and will smirk at you every time

he will also point every 'curse' you say out, like are you sure this is the right word?

he will try to get you to curse and sees it as a game, but will stop and apologize if it makes you angry or uncomfortable

will sometimes use these words as well, but he'll emphasize the word dramatically and look you in the eyes while saying it, just to try and get a reaction from you

he doesn't really care which words you use, he'll be amused either way

Simeon:

he is actually a bit relieved, now he doesn't have to worry about you using curse words in front of his child Luke

"My little lamb use whatever words you want, the most important thing is you're comfortable with it"

prays the demons or Solomon don't rub off their bad influence on you

supports you fully, but wishes you wouldn't have to use alternatives neither

Simeon does not curse! He is an angel!...sometimes he is the very strict author Christopher Peugeot though...and that one can get stressed and might whisper a small curse word

he'll try to learn from you for those rare occasions and use your alternative 'swears'

Luke:

he probably won't get it at first, but with the way Simeon visibly tenses and relaxes after the words left your mouth, he gets curious

you explain that you feel guilty for cursing and therefore use similar sounding yet harmless words

"Well, obviously cursing isn't good! But if you only use these words..it should be okay?"

will startle Barb so hard when he yells 'duck' next time he messes up in their baking session

he will have a serious conversation with Barb, and Simeon...and probably Michael...and you will get scolded as well for teaching an angel to use these words in that way...even though you didn't mean for him to start using them

just be more careful around Luke, and he will try hard to never swear again

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

Do you like the idea of a yoongi x reader in the zombie apocalypse? If not that’s completely fine! I really like your tuxedo book too! 💜

warnings: language, violence (graphic descriptions of zombies getting bashed), angst (at the undead situation), fluff at the end

--

“Fucking shit, you’re a psychopath.”

“I’m a psychopath? You have got to be kidding me, I’m keeping us alive!”

“What do you think this is, Dead Rising?” he hissed, swinging the shovel hard and crushing a skull with a loud crunch.

“You have to be creative to survive in this god-forsaken world!”

You swept the end of a long metal pole configured with an axe attached to the end with barbed wire and duct tape, slicing off another head with a sickening splutter of expired blood.

“You want the bat with the nails or not?” you gritted out, holding both weapons, realizing that not being two handed was really fucking up your accuracy with your axe-spear, so it would be fucking fantastic if Min Yoongi got over calling you a psychopath and just fucking took the wooden baseball bat covered in nails.

Yoongi rammed the head of the shovel into a decaying skull and the rust gave up, popping it off, and leaving the spade sticking out of a very dead, still walking old man.

“Damnnit, yes, give me the murder contraption, I can’t fuck–”

You shoved the handle of the bat into his hands, ignoring his continuous swearing as you finally gripped your makeshift axe spear with two hands, using a myriad of techniques that you had only ever learned in video games, but how the fuck could you to know that zombies were going to show up in Korea because some lunatic released some weird pathogen in a subway and turned rush hour into undead hour?

Your fuck-of-the-night violently smashed two skulls together into the side of the stairwell of his own apartment building.

Neither of you had any idea it was going to be this bad.

Mostly because you two had been asleep.

Yeah.

Okay, technically, not the entire time, but the rest of your time was occupied. Neither of you paid attention to the news or social media. Yoongi had been your fuck-of-the-morning, fuck-of-the-afternoon, and fuck-of-the next-night.

What? It was the weekend! He was good!

“Well, this is more effective than I thought,” Yoongi grumbled, smacking a rotting young woman’s jaw off before caving her skull in. His black hair ruffled, covered in flecks of blood and gray matter.

“I told you!”

He growled in annoyance and continued on his way with you up the stairs, clearing out the zombies that had wandered in here, not a swarm, but still a whole fucking lot and, after seeing a number of them in pajamas and house clothes, you got a sinking feeling in your chest.

“Shit, did some sap bring home their undead wife or what?”

You couldn’t think about it, couldn’t think about how you just crushed a child’s skull and slammed them unceremoniously into the pile of bodies you were creating, couldn’t think about the moms and the dads, the grandparents and the cousins, but you suspected Yoongi’s guess was right.

And that was a very, very sad thought.

“Is anyone here not undead?” you muttered, noticing the quiver in your own voice.

Yoongi’s back touched yours. He was in front because he knew where he was going. You were behind him, holding up the rear. In front of him was his own apartment hallway, the undead lining up to die by nail-bat and axe-spear.

“The survivors have probably left,” he replied gruffly, his deep voice strained.

He pressed his back against yours, letting you feel his shuddering exhale.

“I’m glad you got a head on your shoulders, even if it’s full of video games.”

You almost laughed even though it wasn’t exactly a good time to laugh.

“You almost screamed at me when I picked up that box of nails and ran with them.”

“No normal person does that shit.”

Yoongi turned his head and pressed his nose to your hair, inhaling a deep breath. You stiffened, tingles running over your skin. It almost seemed normal. Almost. Except for the snarling dead people trying to eat your and Yoongi’s guts.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Fucking stinks in here.”

“Y… Yeah…”

You had fucked Min Yoongi, what, five days ago? Six days ago? Knew him for a couple of weeks thanks to some insistent friends forcing you two on a date. You thought the most surprising thing was both of you having sexual chemistry, but, no, the gods had other ideas, such as making you two bond by executing an entire zombie horde.

Yoongi said your name, softly, full of the kind affection that one develops in dire situations while desperately clinging to humanity.

“You got my back?”

You answered in the same tone, stuck with him now, but it wasn’t bad.

In fact, it was great.

“Yeah, I got your back.”

You held your axe-spear and he held his nail-bat. At least they weren’t Rage zombies. They were slow, stupid, and died instantly with a bonk to the head. And so, you and Min Yoongi tore your way through the undead, smashing skulls, destroying bodies beyond recognition, trying not to think of how beautiful these lives were before this, trying not to think how one mistake could have caused all this, trying to pray, hope, dream that there was an end as blood, guts, and brains flew into the air, splattering onto the wallpapered walls, staining them forever and ever, trying not to retch at the stench.

“I knew it.”

You jammed your axe into the last skull and there was a spluttered groan as the decaying young woman crumpled. You tried not to look as the bloody dress she was wearing fluttered, skewed legs collapsing with a sick crunch. It was obvious due to her small frame.

She had been pregnant.

You looked up and Yoongi was breathing hard, staring at his apartment door.

His normally pale skin was a little pink from exertion, black hair wild and dirty, dark brown, cat-like eyes fixated on the piece of paper taped to his front door of a very poorly drawn… something. Circles and lines and boxes with arrows. It appeared to be in red Sharpie. At the bottom right-hand corner, you could recognize a lineup of six stick figures and an oval circled next to them, as if one was missing.

“Who the fuck drew this?” Yoongi grunted, plucking it off his door. “Obviously not Jungkook, otherwise I would actually understand.”

“Who?”

He scrunched up his face and jammed the paper under his armpit, taking out his keys from his jeans.

“My friends. Come on, get in here. Maybe you can figure out what would be useful and then we can go meet up with them… once we figure out what the fuck this shit is supposed to mean.”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you close.

All of a sudden that meant your face was in Yoongi’s face.

He looked down at you, surprised at his own action, and you blinked back, startled.

Seconds passed.

A brain separated from its cavity peeled from the hallway wall and plopped onto the ground.

Both of you winced a little at the sound.

Still, Yoongi seemed determined to say something.

“I’m…” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’m glad I’m not alone.”

His whole body was trembling. You could feel it from his hand and his head.

“I’m glad I’m with you,” you breathed. “Otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Nah, not you. I watched you hammer nails into a wooden baseball bat with a brick. You would’ve been fine.”

“But lonely is worse than dead.”

His eyes found yours, dark brown and grateful.

“Yeah. It is.”

Yoongi pressed his lips to yours and you tilted your head to deepen it, savoring the kiss of survival.

-

cont. 2021.06.06 — hyung, where are you?

--

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

It's officially whumptober, so here's another entry.

It's a loud bang and sudden pressure that awake Billy from an apparently uncomfortable sleep.  He cracks open his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar and dark room. 

Where the hell is he?  

The noise turns out to be a large metal door slamming shut and the pressure was apparently another person being tossed onto him. 

"What the fuck?" He tries to sit up but he finds that he can't move his arms. They've been bound behind him. And to make matters worse, he feels like he got hit with a mack truck. 

Twice .

Fucking great. 

The other body finally rolls to the side and he is surprised when he can clearly see that he knows this guy. 

It's Steve Harrington. 

Harrington lets out a slew of curses as he too, tries and struggles to sit up."-last fucking time I do Henderson a favor. If it's not getting a flat tire and stranded, it's something else, I swear to god-" The tirade stops when he finally manages to get upright and notices Billy staring. " Hargrove ? What the hell are you doing here?" 

"I could ask you the same question." 

He sort of shrugs."Some shady dude got the drop on me when I was picking up something for one of the kids." he sighs dramatically. "What about you?" 

Billy thinks about it, thinks about where he was before waking up in this room, but he's drawing a blank. The last thing he remembers is drinking a shot of whisky at the Long Branch. His dad is pals with the owner so he gets away with sneaking a drink every once in a while.

But after that…nothing. 

"I don't remember. I drank something and then…I don't know."  He definitely can't remember anything that would make him fucking ache like this, that's for damn sure.

"Well I'm going to take a stab in the dark and say we are in Hawkins Lab."

His interest is piqued at the statement. "I thought they got kicked out and the place was condemned?" 

"Yeeeeah, evil people don't really give a fuck about legalities. If they have money they'll do whatever the hell they want." 

Billy huffs out a tired laugh and attempts to get in a more comfortable position, which he unfortunately finds that he can't . "You do have a point." He knows money talks. 

After a moment of nothing but silence and awkward grunting from him still trying to sit the fuck up, he decides to ask the other boy. Because every time he breathes now he feels like his body is on fire and Harrington looks fine.  "Hey, do you feel OK? Like physically. You're not in any pain?"

Harrington meets his eyes and they look concerned. "No, I'm fine. Are you in pain?" 

"Yeah, but...I was fine..." 

"You must have been drugged. These guys...they're sick. I can't really say for certain what kind of shit they're up to this time, but if it's the same group as before…" he trails off.

Yeah, Billy doesn't like the sound of that. "What did they do before ?" 

His voice is quiet when he replies "Human experimentation." 

All the pain and memory loss make a lot more sense now, but he feels queasy with the thought of someone touching him...experimenting on him while he was unconscious. "You think they've already done something to me..." 

"Yeah. They probably have." 

Fuck. "We're going to die aren't we?"

"No. I didn't go through two years of bullshit just to get kidnapped and murdered. We are getting out of here." 

"And how do you propose we do that?"

He looks thoughtful for a moment. "OK, here's what we're gonna do. I'm going to scoot my back to yours. I can't move my arms, but I can still move my hands. If I can get you free, we can get the fuck out of here. I don't know the layout but I have a general idea of where the exit is. I wasn't knocked out when they brought me in."  

"Fuck it. I'm willing to try anything if it means getting the hell out of here." Billy agrees, even though he doesn't have much faith in the plan, but surprisingly Harrington manages to get the ropes around his wrists untied. 

Hands free, he returns the favor and Harrington quickly stands and makes a break for the door. It's just as loud opening as it was closing, and Billy cringes, waiting for someone to come storming in.

But no one ever does. 

So, they both stick their heads out and glance down the hallway. There isn't a soul in sight.

Either their captors are overly confident in their abilities to contain their prisoners, or they are really dropping the ball here. 

  Whichever it is, it doesn't matter. What matters is that they have a chance to get out of this place unscathed. Or in his case, relatively unscathed. 

He keeps stumbling after Harrington, like he's not used to his limbs, but it's not bad enough that he's lagging behind. It just hurts…. a lot.

And it's weird...He can usually ignore pain. He's played basketball with broken ribs and waited for broken limbs to mend without medication before, but he is quickly realizing that whatever they did to him... It's different, and he doesn't know how much longer he can keep up the pace. 

Thankfully, Steve hadn't been full of shit and led them out a side exit…

...just in time for sirens to blare throughout the whole damn building. 

"Looks like they finally noticed."  He says, trying to hide the sudden fear in his voice. 

"It's fine. There's the woods. We're almost there" Harrington points forward and Billy follows his finger. 

It's freedom, and the only thing standing between it and them is a barbed wire fence. 

It's probably ten feet tall but Harrington scales it like a pro. He's dropping onto the other side in no time flat. 

Billy would usually be right there with him, he's a pretty fit guy, but he stumbles again when he reaches the fence and puts his boots in the holes. His right leg is fine and he gets halfway up, but the moment he puts his weight on the other he falters. The only reason he's not on his ass is because of all the push ups and lifting he does. His upper body strength is nothing to scoff at.

Harrington notices his struggle and climbs up, reaching out to take his hand and pull him over the top.

But the pain is excruciating and after a few tries, he knows he can't get up and over the fence.

His leg is fractured or something. It has to be. Maybe the running just aggravated it. Or...whatever they fucking did is starting to overcome him.

His chest feels tight and his jaw is sore from gritting his teeth through the pain. 

It only takes a moment more for the severity of the situation to set in. 

He's not going to make it.

He stares up at the wounds on the other boy's face and arms from the wire cutting into him. The longer he tries to help Billy, the more injured he'll become….

So, there's really only one option here, but Steve hasn't realized it yet. There isn't a way for them both to escape this. The creeps that took them have already noticed their absence. He can still hear the sound of alarms and now barking dogs behind them. 

"Harrington," his voice shakes despite the bravado he's trying to project. "You have to let go, man."

There's confusion and then anger in those brown eyes as he glares at him. "I'm not leaving you here." He tries again to unsuccessfully pull Billy up, panting out, "You're an asshole, but I don't want you to fuckin die."  

The barks suddenly move closer, making them both shudder. "Look, there isn't another way, and you have a chance to get out of this freak fest. My leg is fucked. Something is wrong with me and I'm slowing you down. So let me go ."

There are so many emotions that cross his face before he finally relents."Fuck you, Hargrove," he hisses, and lets Billy's hand fall from his grasp. 

Something like relief fills his chest as he slumps down to the ground, but the other boy isn't moving. He has to hiss out, "Go!" 

"Fuck. I'm going …but when I find help, I'm coming back for you." 

Billy forces a smile and gives him a wave. "See you later then, pretty boy." 

He watches his back retreat into the darkness and shivers as heavy footsteps stop behind him.

"The control subject escaped," someone says into a radio before roughly grabbing him. He doesnt put up a fight as he's dragged back towards the lab, but he does throw up when the pain becomes too much. "I have subject A." The man speaks again. "But it doesn't look good." 

And Billy sighs sadly, because he had already known the outcome. The only thing Steve will be coming back for, is his body.

[mxvladdy]

wait holy shit youre taking requests???? okay first of all, im in love with your writing skills especially those true forms they are *chefs kiss* magnifique. second, may i request for an angst but fluff ending prompt for barbatos/simeon/solomon (im an absolute simp for them) about MC having a really bad asthma attack and coupled with anxiety attack? (totally not me lmao) please and thank you! sorry for being too specific!

A/N: Oshbagosh! I hope you are good fam! You have excellent taste in simpin ngl Barbatos came out of left field for me, though I am weak for a quick wit and sharp tongue lol. And thank you for liking my works! Sorry, this took so long;.;

I hope my research was good and accurate! 

Barbatos

Does not know what is going on at first. Were you having an allergic reaction to something you ate? Had you gotten into some Devildom spices he hadn’t secured well enough?

Panics internally. He is very ready to spend the exurbanite amount of energy it would take to turn back the clocks before you started wheezing. 

Externally he keeps a level head, glad his gloves hide how sweaty his palms are. He remembers then your human medical file. 

He tends to you quickly grabbing your medication and carrying you away from whatever triggered this attack. 

“Do you need a doctor?” Barbatos asks for the umpteenth time. He runs a gloved hand up and down your back. You shake your head weakly coughing to try and dislodge some phlegm now breakdown in your throat. You take a shaky breath feeling your airways loosen, the fresh air that fills your lungs taste so sweet. 

“I’ll be ok Barb.” You wheeze taking another deep inhale from your inhaler. “Stop hovering and sit please, you are starting to stress me out more.” The demon makes a weird tutting noise in distress but comes to sit next to you. You lean back with a groan. The garden wall was rough on your back but you didn’t care at the moment. It had been so long since you had a flare-up you had almost forgotten what it felt like. You shift over slightly seeking out the heat of your companion's body. Exhausted you flop over to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Here let me.” He pulls out his ornate handkerchief and starts whipping at your nose and eyes. “What triggered this love? Have I missed someplace in my cleaning?” He knew he didn’t, never in all his years had he ever missed a spot. He would retire in shame if he did, but he felt like he had to fill the silence. If you were talking that meant you were alright. Right? He curses at himself. He thought he knew more about humans than this, yet you somehow threw curveball after curveball at him. He needs you to be safe and happy yet he choked on something like this? Perhaps he would suffer more of Solomon’s companionship to pick his brain on human ailments. As long as he could dodge eating any of his cooks.   

You fidget as he cleans your face and fusses over you, but you let him. This was for his benefit more than yours. “No, I think it's pollen. Your plants are not something I’m used to yet, and with the wind, it just hit harder.” He grunts, not pleased with your answer. He could do anything about the plants, and things out of his control were few and far between. You catch the inner argument he was having with his many selves and scoff. “Barb-” You take the cloth from him and tuck it in your pocket. “You and all your selves absolutely cannot control my illness, and that's ok.” He doesn’t look convinced, no doubt looking for a loophole in the webs he weaves. 

“Given the time I-” He stops at your withering look. “I don’t like not being in control.” Your look softens. 

“Who does?” You clear your throat finally feeling a bit more like yourself. Well, at least the garden wasn’t spinning anymore. “There. I think I can manage. Can you help me to the nurses' office? I should get a check-up since it’s been a while since I’ve had an attack. Then I think I’m going to call it a day.” 

Barbatos nods helping you to your shaky feet. His hands locked around your arm like he was afraid you would crumble again. You give him a reassuring look and lean into his weight. You didn’t need it, but it was a nice feeling, being looked after. Besides, it was so rare to get his sole attention. “I’ll inform the young master  that we will be taking the rest of the day off.” 

“We?” 

“Of course.”  He says resolutely. “Unless you wish for me to leave?” He barely contains his smile when he feels your hands squeeze tighter around his bicep. 

“As long as I’m not impeding.” Your words are half-hearted at best. You don’t give a damn if it throws off some super-secret agenda, you were happy to have more time with him. He calmed your nerves. 

Simeon

He hadn’t meant to trigger an attack. The weather outside was simply lovely.  It was dry and warm with a breeze that made grass dance in a mesmerizing way. The track around one of the Devildom’s many bodies of crystalline water was beautiful at this time of the day. He had to share his enthusiasm.

He just wanted to go for a walk with you. He had so much to talk about with you that he forgot how long his legs are compared to yours. He was so excited he didn’t realize how fast his gait is and how much you were struggling to keep up with him. He didn’t realize your troubles until he felt a sweaty palm on his wrist. 

Openingly gets panicked but knows about human medicine and where you store your inhaler. 

Simeon breathes deeply through his nose and out his mouth. One deep inhale and one long exhale- focus just focus. His chest clenches in alarm at your shallow pants, his eyesight narrowing down to pinpricks. Blessedly he keeps a steady hand.

“Slowly now my dear.” He shakes your inhaler before bringing it to your lips. His strong fingers massaging your jaw to loosen it. Squeezing your cheeks he slips the apparatus past your teeth noticing how glassy your eyes were becoming. “Inhale.” He orders thanking his father you understand him enough to comply.  He watches you like a hawk till he hears your heartbeat steady. Once he is sure he could look away he calls Lucifer. He doesn’t remember what he said, but he knew it was a panic-fueled rush.

“Simeon,” He looks up from his phone. “I’m ok…” You wheeze blinking up into the afternoon moons. Simeon shushes you running his warm hands over your cheeks. They were ice-cold despite the heat. He warms his palms with magic watching the fog clear from your gaze. “Thanks.” 

“You shouldn’t thank me.” He pulls away, shaking his head. “This is my fault. I apologize, my dove.” You chuckle breathlessly becoming aware of your surroundings. Last thing you remember was walking up the shoreline. Now the hardwood of the bench pokes at your back. Had you collapsed here? Or did Simeon carry you over? “I should have been more aware of the situation.” He pulls at his hair in frustration. His lower lip turns red as he worries it with his teeth.

You swat his hand away from his hair wincing in sympathy when a few chunks of hair that follow. Linking his dexterous fingers with your clammy ones, you trace the lines in his palm with your thumb. You try to breathe in time with the steady rise and fall of his chest letting your meds take full effect. Your breathing was better, but you still had spots in your vision. “It’s not your fault really. I should have told you when I started feeling bad.” 

“I should have noticed. How can I protect you if I can’t even realize your limitations?” He bemoans. You exhale a jerky laugh. Your lungs throbbing with the sharp movement. It ached for sure, but not enough that you couldn’t get up. Ignoring his protests you get off the bench and pull him up with you.  

“None of that!” You wag a finger in his face. I’m allowed to panic, not you. You try to make light of the situation but your finger trembles in his face.  “You did exactly what you should have so don’t doubt yourself. Sides’-” You clasp yours. hands together playing with your thumbs. “I got horribly distracted too, and pushed myself.” 

“By what?” 

“You.” Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. “ You were so excited to have the day with me I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Simeon blinks. “You-didn’t want to ruin the mood by telling me you were having an asthma attack?” You shrug, a childish smile crossing your face. Unbelievable. Simeon swears under his breath. “I-I am at a loss for words.” He places both his hands on your shoulders squeezing them. “I will find them later and then we'll talk about your amazing lack of self-preservation, but for now, Lucifer is waiting for us at the nurses' office.” Not giving you time to argue he scoops you up, arm holding you under your knees and securely around your shoulders.  Once he knew you were safe, he would make sure to have an eye on you at all times.

Solomon

The dusty old library located in the catacombs of the school was a dead giveaway to be trouble for your lungs. You both knew that. He warns you, the moment you feel ill they are leaving, no questions, no arguments. Very much the calmest of the three. He is human...mostly… so he knows the signs and can catch it much faster than the others. 

Still worried about you though. You aren’t a mage,  just his regular old human. 

When he gets nervous he makes jokes. Not appropriate given the circumstances but they just come out. So while he is dragging you from the school he is making the obligatory joke about him taking your breath away.

He will have whatever medications or potions he can think of at the ready for you to use if you need them. Won’t baby you or hover, you’ve lived with this for long he doesn’t want to insult you in any way. But he will keep close and have his ringer on loud in case you need him.

But now he wants you to rest and recover. He’ll keep you company though.

You gaze sleepily out of the bedroom window propped up on an exorbitant amount of puffs and pillows. You breathe out with caution, testing to see if you were still having any lingering effects from being down in the catacombs. It wasn’t anything too serious this time, thankfully. The moment you started clearing your throat and breathing just a little too hard to be considered normal, Soloman had grabbed both your bags and dragged you from the moldy and dusty space. You were a little put out at how quickly your asthma had acted up. You had just found the book you were looking for too. 

“If you keep squirming out of your blankets I’ll seal you in there with magic.” Your captor friend appears, pulling aside the drapes around his bed to sit next to you. He flashes you a cocky grin placing a tray on his bedside table. Solomon scans your face looking for any inkling of pain that might linger. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m hot.” You lie. In truth, the many blankets he wrapped you in felt marvelous, but you were being cantankerous. You wanted to get up and go back to work. The mage raises a pale brow, not believing a word of it.

“Of course you are, my little scholar.” He tucks you in again a little tighter then props your cocooned feet on his legs. “How are you really?” 

You shrug. Compared to other attacks you’ve had this one was thankfully mild.  Most likely because he had whisked you out the winding maze-like library faster than you thought possible. The jitters from the panic attack that followed took more out of you. Luckily for you, Solomon handled that easily too. “You know I want to go back.” You had your hands on the book you wanted when you started feeling a little breathless.  You wanted to believe it was out of excitement for the tomes. But the back of that section of the library was damp, cool, and dark. The perfect trifecta for your lungs to riot. 

Solomon nodded unfazed. “Yes, I’ve come to realize that whenever danger is present you seem to gravitate towards it.” He smiles fondly at your pout. Your thirst for knowledge was almost as insatiable as his, and both of you seemed to have a knack for attracting danger. He watches you fidget in your confines for a little bit more before sighing. “Alright-alright, I get the drift hold still.”  Leaning over you he loosens the covers around your arms to give you a little bit of freedom. As soon as you were free you pinch his nose hard in retaliation. “Oi!”  He laughs pulling back to rub at his nose. “Such violence! And here I came bearing gifts!” 

“That’s for insulting me!” You huff settling back down. “I hope it’s food, I’m starving.” You eye him expectantly. 

“Feed you? After that assault? My, you are brazing.” He picks up the tray he brought despite himself. The school cafe was serving your favorites today. Placing it on your lap he brushes his lips across your cheek. “Plus, I made tea.” You hum in excitement, eyes lighting up with glee. While he couldn’t cook worth a damn (you chalk it up to him irretrievably destroying his sense of taste and smell tolling over potions for years). He did have amazing luck with blending tea leaves and spices. A skill he severely took for granted. 

You pick up the tea and breath deeply only to have a coughing fit. His warm broad hands are there in an instant pushing you back into the pillows. “Sorry-sorry. Still a bit tender.” You smile through watery eyes. “It smells great!” 

“Does it? What do you smell? I admit, I just picked out things that looked pretty together.” He flushes pink rubbing at the back of his neck. 

You take the cup again and sniff. It had a hint of springtime in it, warm and sharp. Something earthy mixed with fire. You take a sip. “Hmm, spicy. Is that licorice?” Solomon nods. 

“It is indeed, I read that licorice and black pepper can help with asthma symptoms and circulation. I figured it could wash the  taste of your meds away.” He jokes watching you eat and take small sips of the steaming brew. He smiles to himself, glad you could get so comfortable in his room. Perhaps once you were dozing he could slip back into the library and conveniently “borrow” the book you had to leave earlier.

[thebadboyfanclub]

Protect The Queen Pt 2 (Geralt x Reader)

So I saw you guys really liked the first part so I decided to make a part two of this so I decided to make a part two, if you want a part three let me know. Enjoy!

PART 1

-

Geralt was free to leave after that night, he just chose to stay, linger around town and secretly wait for her to call him. He felt foolish, a mutant running around town and hoping a queen will invite him, she probably regretted her words after she walked away from him. One more night, he gave her one more night and the next day he was going to disappear, he was running out of coins and Jaskier was getting more and more annoying.

“Is he still in town?”

“Yes, staying at the inn. My queen you know I would never question you-”

“But you are and it’s not a good look for you. I want you to send someone to go get him in the morning, as early as possible”

“Yes my queen, as you wish”

-

“You know I was hoping she would come and see you, such a great love story for my ballad”

“If you wrote a song about her she would have your head on a platter the next day”

Geralt growled at the barb. The sun had barely rise but Jaskier was wide awake and full of energy, it was bad enough that Geralt had felt his ego get wounded, he had to deal with Jaskier reminding him that he walked away from this town empty handed and covered in shame for letting himself to believe he had a shot with someone of her status.

“Sir Geralt! Wait”

He heard a female voice call for him as he was about to get on his horse. It wasn’t her, the voice had a hint of anxiety in it’s tone, she would have never let her tone of voice waver. It was a young girl, probably in her teens, she was dressed in clean and what seemed expensive dress. As she stood next to the men she gave a light bow. Jaskier and Geralt were not used to this kind of respect, if anything they were happy if a day passed and they hadn’t heard any insults.

“Sir Geralt, our queen is asking for you”

“ohhhhhhh what a powerful twist, I knew she was planning something”

“Shut it Jaskier”

“Her highness said to bring you to her as fast as possible, she doesn’t appreciate waiting”

The girl tried to regain her breath, she was probably terrified of letting down the queen. Hell she probably had to go back and tell (y/n) she didn’t find her if she came a minute later and it wouldn't look good to go back without getting what her queen needed. Geralt hesitated for a moment, trying to process the idea and also asking himself why she waited until the last day to call for him, to be fair it sounds like something she would do.

“Jaskier wait here, take care of Roach”

“Of course, go get her Geralt”

It only took one look from Geralt for Jaskier to shut up and look away. Geralt followed the girl silently, although he internally hoped the girl would pick up her pace, a sudden eagerness to see her consumed him. He became aware that he was kind of underdressed to be entering a palace, he wasn't even wearing his armor, he was just in regular commoner clothes, for the first time he cared for his appearance while meeting someone royal. She wasn’t just royalty, she was (y/n), she was radiant, she exuded this untouchable aura and her stable tone of voice made others focus on her.

As they entered the palace he got to take a look at the decoration. A smirk was brought in his lips as he looked around, she had definitely changed a lot of things, there was no portrait of the late king, only hers and other females, it had so many different and bright colors mixed together and complimenting each other, the curtains were of light pastel color on the contrary of the heavy dark curtains the other palaces he had been in had. The girl walked up to a woman more older than her, yet still youth was a way to describe her, she was dressed in a gold dress, long light brown hair framing her face and a tall figure.

“Miss Chiara, I found him”

“Very well Mina, run along now, you are dismissed”

“Right away Miss Chiara”

Geralt looked at the woman, she seemed to have the same sense of authority and seriousness (y/n) had, however she did not have the little splash of warmth (y/n) possesses, this woman was just as cold as ice. Geralt took notice how the young girl became nervous around her, she was probably a woman of status, someone that worked directly with the queen, you could tell by her proud posture and sharp tone that she took her position seriously.

“Sir Geralt, welcome to the Queens palace”

“Thank you”

“Follow me please”

It was weird that Geralt had not seen any other male in here yet. (Y/n) had probably kicked out any of the late kings favorite people, she spoke very highly about the female gender, it was only a matter of time her staff was dominated by them, there was not trace a king ever existed, everywhere you looked it was something that had her sense of choice, even the scent that carried around the palace, this light vanilla with a hint of fruit, no heavy musk smell the kings adored, it was her palace now.

The woman stopped right in front of two big wooden doors before she turned to Geralt, a harsh look on her face and also a slight side of a dissapointed manner, she was probably worried about her queens choice of visitor.

“The queen is a very private person, that barb of yours isn’t, whatever words you exchange with her stay in this room”

“I understand”

It didn’t surprise him that the woman asked for some type of privacy around her queen, he was annoyed that people worried that Jaskier would open his mouth, which was a possible scenario however that meant Geralt would let him know anything about (y/n). No, he was not willing to share anything that had to do with her. The woman knocked a few times before pushing the doors open enough for the two to walk in.

“My queen, Sir Geralt is here... like you asked”

“Excellent, thank you very much Chiara. Could you leave us alone please?”

“At once my queen”

The woman gave one last look at Geralt before she left, shutting the doors behind him. He gulped as he took a look at (y/n), her hair were loose, like a waterfall running down, her skin was covered by a silk pastel robe, tied around her waist as it accentuate her figure, the only glimpse of skin were her feet and arms.

“You asked for me”

“Indeed, I was astonished when I discovered you where still here”

She walked over from her bed to the center of the room, she seemed at ease, comfortable with the situation. Yet her sensual energy oozed out more than last time, it almost took over him and forced him to ran to her and kiss her.

“I like the inn, comfortable beds”

“I’m so glad to hear that, I want our travelers to feel like home here”

She started to proceed towards him, her eyes and intense look on her face strained him from moving, freezing like the prey looking at it’s predator. He felt her eyes on him, fixated on his face as she took him in, she could tell that he was quite nervous, it excited her that her presence alone brought such a man unease.

“I told you, I don’t like feeling lonely”

Her voice was low, promiscuous. As her hand to his chin, her delicate fingers felt like a feather was touching him, everything about this woman was made to make him feel weak in the knees.  Her perfume was like a drug to him, slowly sipping into him and becoming something so familiar yet he craved to be around it.

“Will you help me Geralt?”

“gladly”

Before he could taste those lips of hers, she moved away and turned her back to him. (Y/n) wanted to jump on to him as soon as he walked in, nonetheless she wanted to play a tad bit of a game. She reached for the knot on her robe and let it loose, her hips swaying from side to side as the robe moved past her shoulders and on to the floor, she was aching for him, she had spent days imagining him sharing her bed, a man like that was definitely more than capable to please her bodys needs. She wanted the first time that he took her to be like that one dream she had the first night after meeting him, that left her to wake up covered in sweat and panting for air.

She stood in front of the window and turned to look at him while leaning on a desk that had scattered papers on it. It didn’t take a genius to realize what she was insinuating, Geralt’s eyes went wide as it dawned of him, you could see the entire garden and the street from the open window, no curtain stood between that view.

“Someone could see us”

“And? I am their queen, it’s my reputation on the line, it can either happen my way or you are free to leave. What will it be Geralt?”

It only took a second for him to make up his mind, his feet guided him to her one in front of the other at a slow pace. When he had finally come close enough for her torso to touch his, he felt her hands touch his arm, caressing his flesh 

“You know the only man I’ve ever shared a bed with was my late husband. I hated it, it was only for him to get the heir he craved, it left me to wonder what it feels like to be lusted after, wanted, to feel... pleasure. Are you the answer to those questions?”

Her voice was now barely a whisper, as her eyes locked on his. She didn’t know how she held it together, the simple touch of his hands on her waist was enough to drive her wild, she needed to feel him, to let him show her what being intimate was supposed to feel like. Geralt chose to not answer verbally, he just leaned in and finally felt her lips to hers at a passionate kiss. In a blink of an eye the caress became more aggressive and you could hear the tear of his shirt as she ripped it apart to reveal his torso. It only took one simple tuck of a strap for her dress to drop and show her naked body. 

He took a good look of her, she was truly amazing, that goddess like beauty that men dreamt about. His hands went to her breasts and massaged them, feeling them was enough for him to become impatient. A small moan left her lips as he started leaving kisses along her neck, she sat up on the desk and wrapped her legs around his waist.

“You’ll be the death of me”

“It will be- it will be worth it”

she breathed out, her mind was gone and she was just glad she got the words out in the right order. His hot skin against her naked body felt heaven like, she thanked herself for making the right decision and choosing him. Her touch was needy, as felt his pants drop and he grabbed her by the neck, forcing her to look at me

“The queen of the land, naked before me”

“Can you please her?”

After that a moan was heard, as they became one. Both of them moaning loudly as (y/n) laid back on the desk, giving him a good view of her figure, she was breathtaking, as she moved her hips and moaned his name again and again. He couldn’t help and lean down, feeling the need to touch her, kiss her, her arms reaching at his back, leaving scratches as he guided her to road of immense pleasure.

“My queen, submission becomes you”

He whispered in her ear before biting her earlobe. She was better than any of the fantasies he had of her, she was as hot as volcano, exploding and destroying anything on it’s path. Her back arched as she hugged him tightly, for the first time she was truly enjoying the act of sex, she cursed herself for not killing her incompetent husband earlier, her new life was filled with pleasure, pleasure only Geralt could bring her. Her legs started to shake while she felt like a fire was spreading on her body, the moans becoming louder and louder by the second. 

“Geralt, that’s it”

“Come on (y/n), let it go”

She felt like her body and mind exploded with glee, the passion he brought out of her in a mix of his skill with women was now pushing her over the edge, as she unraveled and came undone underneath him, biting his shoulder to refrain herself from yelling.

The enjoyment he felt seeing her like this was indescribable. This amazing and confident queen was now shaking and latching on to him, the power (y/n) held over him drove him to insanity. As he felt the orgasm reach him and take over he kissed her as he slowed down and relaxed in her arms. No woman had made him feel such intense satisfaction, her allowing him to take her was truly an out of body experience.

“You.... are an amazing woman”

“You’re not so bad yourself”

both of them were out of breath, sweat dripping over their body and the light of day made her skin shine, like diamonds were decorating her torso. He laced one hand underneath her and lifted her off the table, her head went on to his shoulder as she started kissing his neck. He laid her on the bed and went on top of her, finally kissing her lips.

“I see you’ve gotten comfortable being inside of me”

“It’s very cozy”

Her chest erupted as she laughed at his comment. It was more of a “not wanting this to be over” situation, she didn’t mind though, she didn’t want him to leave either, the idea of having him here all day was delightful. She let her fingers roam on his back, going up and down as he relaxed, the weight of him was a lot but comfortable, she liked feeling his body against hers.

“When will you have to leave?”

“Tomorrow”

“I’m sure the barb will be very happy to spend the night in the palace. Your horse can be safe in the stable”

“Want me all for yourself?”

“As I said, you are free to leave.... tomorrow”

He pulled away from her and laid on his side, as she went under the covers but made sure to let her breast exposed and covered his lower body. It was his turn to reach for her, caressing her face as she beamed with satisfaction.

“And I will, until I can come back”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“A declare of my addiction towards you”

“Really? Then let’s see how intoxicated I can get you in a day”

[immortalcoelacanth]

Between the Walls, Chapter 3: To Earn His Keep (Dream SMP fic)

*hits table*

I have so many wips, why is my muse just like this?

Word count: 5313

Summary: Jobs are assigned and questions are asked as to why the hell Tommy and Techno are still putting up with one another.

Tommy had been confused as to what Techno meant by him having to work to earn the right to stay in his house. What work could he possibly do that would benefit him?! He couldn’t chop wood, or mine any precious resources. Crafting was also out of the question since he could only make things that were good for someone his size, so that left…

Nothing.

There was nothing he could do. There was no possible job that would suit him that Techno would benefit from, so he honestly had no idea what would come of the deal they had made. Perhaps nothing at all, and he would be allowed

Yeah right, as if he had ever been that lucky.

“TECHNOBLAAAAAADE! YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD!” Tommy howled as he clutched the wooden bars of the makeshift cage he was in. It was practically a repurposed box, the gap between the bars being too slim for the borrower to slip through, but even if they were big enough, he wouldn’t dare escape.

Primarily because of the large pit of groaning mods below him.

Apparently, the “work” Techno had planned for him was nothing more than him acting as bait for a basic mob farm. He was suspended above a pit, his cage attached to a wooden outcropping, and the faint glowing of the strange, red and orange cubes below him allowed him to easily see the hoard of zombies, skeletons, and the occasional creeper milling about.

He glanced back at the house and scowled, knowing Techno was probably sitting inside, all safe and warm. The cage barely blocked out any of the freezing winds, and since Tommy hadn’t been able to grab a jacket before being put out here, there was nothing to protect him from the cold. He was stuck, freezing and yelling at the top of his lungs.

Damn that stupid pig-

… Or hybrid.

It was a term the borrower was vaguely familiar with, he had been eavesdropping when one of the farmers back in Borrowton mentioned “hybrid plants” and how useful they could be. From what he knew, hybrids were like a sort of mixture, two different things being used to make one. Two different plants producing a new one.

He guessed one of Techno’s parents really was a pig fucker.

Tommy snorted at the joke before shuddering in the brisk breeze, arms wrapping tightly around himself while he huddled up on the floor of the cage. It sucked, being out here with nothing but the mobs for company. At least when he had been with Techno, he’d been able to interact, to socialize. It was something that he had always craved, to be able to reach out and connect with people. Even Techno’s occasional barbs, jokes, and the anger he caused Tommy to feel was better than being stuck outside.

Bastard, going from acting like he wanted to protect him to sticking him out here.

… Speaking of which, it had been very strange to witness that exchange. See the way that Techno hesitated to reveal his presence, and the fact that he had tried to hide Tommy further after the librarian made it aware that he knew the borrower was there. Some part of him had cheered, recognizing that maybe the pig-hybrid actually cared about him in some way, even though they had only known one another for about a day, but Techno’s actions earlier-

“What’re you making?” Tommy hesitantly asked as tried to stare at the crafting table. He had basically been told, ordered, to wait on the table while Techno finished whatever it was that he was making. Not wanting to anger the pigman, he had reluctantly done his best to stay in place.

Fidgeting the entire time, of course. Staying put had never been his strong suit.

“Just something to help with your new job.” Techno explained before turning around and showing off the cage he had made. “Gonna make things a lot easier.”

“... What’re you gonna put in it, then?” Tommy questioned, not at all liking where this was going. Of course, the answer he got was one he had expected, but still never wanted to hear.

“You, duh.”

Techno grinned, and Tommy felt his heart drop.

“You’re gonna be the bait.”

Had obliterated the small sparks of that hope. Techno didn’t care about him and only saw him as a means to an end. Probably why he got so huffy when that other guy noticed him. Clearly no one was allowed to mess with or torment Tommy unless it was Techno himself-

Twang!

The borrower let out a startled yelp as an arrow slammed into the side of his cage, making it rock and sway. He scrambled to the side of the enclosure and tried to spot what had shot at him. His eyes scanned the empty yard, briefly landing on the empty stall that Techno must have built for some reason. It was weird to just have that structure sitting there, all empty and ready for some animal to inhabit it-

There!

Tommy shook himself out of his thoughts as he spotted the source of the arrow. A lone skeleton that had, somehow, not stumbled over and fallen into the pit, was aiming at him, bow drawn and another arrow pointed in his direction. He immediately backpedaled, arms flailing as the newest arrow was released, just barely missing the cage.

Shit, shit!

“Fuck off you stupid bitch!” Tommy howled as the skeleton readied another arrow. As it was aimed at him, his panic and the pitch of his voice increased until he was practically shrieking. “FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU-”

Twang!

Another arrow slammed into the skeleton’s skull, bone shattering and turning to dust. The monster dropped to the ground, the fallen bow and arrows the only sign of it ever having been there, and he quickly looked over at what, or who, had shot the arrow.

Technoblade.

Of course.

“Couldn’t have shown up any sooner, you bitch?!” He shouted, internally cringing when those too bright, red eyes landed on him. He watched as the hybrid rested the crossbow he had used to kill the skeleton on his shoulder before making his way over to the wooden post. He glared down at Techno, more than aware of how not intimidating he looked as he shuddered in the cold. Although, his glare lightened up when he was finally removed from the post, less exposed to the winds as he was unintentionally sheltered by the hybrid’s body.

“I was just testing a hypothesis I had.” Techno simply responded. The borrower waited to see if he would elaborate on what that meant. A moment passed, then two, and then-

“Well tell me then! You don’t need to act so secretive!”

That tiny, near invisible smile on Techno’s face grew as he started to speak. “A hypothesis on whether your voice is annoying enough to instantly agro mobs, and it is from the looks of it. Congratulations-”

“Wh-you bitch!” Tommy sputtered as he raged and pointed aggressively at the amused hybrid. “I have the voice of an angel! It’s not annoying!”

As if trying to prove Techno’s point, and in turn prove the borrower wrong, another arrow was launched at the duo. Techno easily dodged it, hardly sparing a glance at the new skeleton as he returned fire and took it down, while Tommy was jostled about thanks to the sudden movement. He just barely managed to stop himself from smacking his head against the wooden bars, and that scowl on his face grew deeper.

For some reason, Techno possessed the uncanny ability to infuriate Tommy no matter what he did. Whether it was his occasionally smug, know-it-all attitude or how obtuse he could be at times, there was just something about him that never failed to upset the borrower.

… Not that he would ever tell him, of course.

Of course, his general unease and anxiety towards this new situation did not help in the slightest, leaving him on edge and ready to snap when something potentially bad happened. It was a miracle he had not been killed yet, and he quietly wondered how much longer his luck would last.

Not that such a thought would stop him from acting like how he typically did.

So, as was in his nature, Tommy immediately started shouting and cursing once more. “And why the fuck did you stick me up there for so long, anyways?! It was freezing up there-”

“You wanna go for round two?” Techno interrupted, lifting the cage up so Tommy could easily see the wooden post he had been hanging from. Immediately, the borrower backed up and started shaking his head.

“No! No, c’mon man! I was just teasing you!” He backpedaled. “Just a little joke, I swear!”

“The only joke here is your accidental pun.” Techno quipped, his smile growing as he watched realization, and then horror, cross Tommy’s face.

“Listen! It’s-it’s a crime to make jokes about me being small, because I’m not! Absolutely criminal!”

Techno let out another chuckle as he shut the door behind him and made his way towards the table. “It’s a good thing I don’t follow laws, then.”

Tommy didn’t dare ask what that meant.

Fortunately, a distraction soon appeared in the form of the cage being set down on the table, followed by one of the sides being removed. He quickly jumped out once there was enough room for him to move, stumbling a bit over the lip of the cage before he straightened himself out.

He ignored the amused snort he heard from beside him, not at all looking at Techno, and instead chose to bask in the sensation of finally being indoors, even if he was still freezing. Tommy shuddered as he wrapped his arms around himself, doing his best to heat up after being exposed to the cold for however long he had been stuck outside. The roaring fireplace definitely helped to chase away some of the chill, and he found his eyes lingering on the large pot that had been added to the fireplace. The air smelled… nice, and it looked like Techno had decided to make soup for himself.

Strange, since he swore the hybrid’s diet consisted of nothing but steak and the occasional, weird sparkly apple.

God, he’d been dying to bite into one of those and see what they tasted like…

He jumped in surprise as Techno placed a small, obviously handmade, wooden bowl filled with soup on the table. Curious, he slowly walked over and checked it out. It was still a bit too large for him to use, he’d probably drown himself if he tried to drink straight from it, but it was definitely much more manageable for him to use.

“Is… is that for me?”

The hybrid just nodded as he got himself his own bowl of soup. As such, he was unaware of how Tommy’s jaw dropped in pure shock, as he carefully traced the side of the bowl. The guy who’d spent the last twenty four hours tormenting him had made something for him, made something that would make his life easier!

He hadn’t been given any cutlery when he’d been kicked out of Borrowton, all he had were some basic tools and rations of food. The absolute bare necessities. And, instead of letting him suffer and search for something he could use, Techno had made it using his own two hands.

It dawned on him, in some strange, iconic twist of fate that he had unintentionally helped Tommy out more than his own people had. Invested more care into making sure he didn’t just survive, but was also comfortable.

… And not spilling soup all over the place-

Regardless, it was one of the last things he would have ever expected from Techno, and he quietly wondered if the hybrid had been working on the bowl while he had been stuck outside. Was this…

A reward?

Tommy’s breathing hitched and he quickly wiped his eyes before any of the budding tears could fall, idiot, crying over something as stupid as a bowl. By the time he had gotten his emotions under control, Techno had looked over to find him just staring at the bowl, appearing to be doing nothing.

“Did you expect me to spoon feed you or something?” He chuckled, waiting for Tommy to respond. When the borrower said nothing, his smile faded. “Bruh-”

“Don’t look at me like that!” Tommy objected, nearly knocking the bowl over as he turned his attention to Techno. “I’m just surprised! Big, bad, Blade making a bowl, never thought I’d see the day. Guess you’ve got little dainty girl hands for that!”

Techno rolled his eyes as the borrower continued rambling, tuning him out as he went about his supposedly dainty hands, and questions about if he made bird houses in his spare time. Eventually, Tommy got that he was done interacting, and the duo focused on their respective meals, with the borrower burning his tongue in his haste to try the soup.

“Fuck.” He hissed, waving a hand over the bowl to help it cool down as he cringed in pain. After waiting for the burning sensation to fade, as well as checking to see whether the soup had cooled down enough, he carefully tried again.

As he slowly sipped away at his soup, he watched as Techno made his way over to a chair, picking up the book that had been placed on it, as well as putting on his reading glasses. They were surprisingly worn, primarily held together by tape, and just barely managed to stay on the hybrid’s face as he sat down and cracked open the book. He then quickly realized that the book was the one he had gotten from the librarian.

The one about borrowers.

He felt… weird knowing someone was basically researching him, studying up on the supposed myths about his kind, and wondered to himself when he would get interrogated. Would Borrowton be mentioned in that book, or one of the other settlements? Tommy had never visited them, but he knew they were out there.

Knew about the rumours of the secret tracks that had supposedly connected each settlement to one another and was used to ship goods back and forth. He and Tubbo had tried searching for them one day and had only wound up with bruises and a stern scolding from the adult borrowers, telling them it was foolish to believe in made up stories.

But he never listened. Those tracks were there, had to be there. He and Tubbo had spent so many nights dreaming of how they’d get away, racing down the rails in a minecart. The angry yells and shouts fading as they raced off into their newest adventure.

They had planned to find a home using those rails.

And they would, Tommy promised himself as he grit his teeth. They would go on that adventure, they would find a home. He would get back to Tubbo, no matter what. All he needed was to figure out how to get back to Borrowton, and perhaps snag some supplies from Techno when he wasn’t looking.

… Maybe that book would come in handy after all.

Not that he had any hope in hell of stealing it, or even really reading it since the book was considerably larger than him, but it was the only chance he had at figuring out where Borrowton was and how he might get there.

It was ironic, to think he had spent so long dreaming about getting away from that hellhole and then ending up stuck in a situation where he needed to do everything he could to get back.

All in the name of Tubbo, of course.

He’d rather spend the rest of his life stuck with the annoying prick known as Technoblade instead of going back to Borrowton if it weren’t for Tubbo.  

… He did need a proper plan, though. He had to survive, figure out how to escape the hellish tundra he was in, get supplies for his journey which would probably last several days, and figure out what path he needed to take to reach Borrowton. Plus he’d need to figure out how to sneak in and find Tubbo, too.

So many things… did he even have a chance at completing them all? He could easily freeze to death in the snow, get mauled by some monster, starve, get lost and never reach his destination-

Don’t think about it.

He let out a sigh and placed the bowl down, distantly noticing he had finished his soup. It was nice, tasted like potatoes and something else. Unconsciously, he started rubbing his thumb against the smooth rim of the wooden bowl. All in all, being exiled wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be, aside from him missing Tubbo of course. Techno was a bastard, a prick through and through, but he was surprisingly…

Nice wasn’t the word. Less cruel than he thought he would be? He thought back to the discussion with that nerdy librarian and let out a snort. Borrowers and hybrids working together, living together, sounded like a load of crap.

… Even if he was technically doing that just now.

But it wasn’t like there was some mystical force making them act all soft! Like… like they were best friends or something! He and Techno weren’t buddies or allies, they were just stuck together until either Techno got tired of him and kicked him out, or he left.

Nothing more, nothing less.

With both his meal and mental contemplation finished, he stood up and made his way over to the edge of the table, attaching his grappling hook to the end and throwing the rope over the side. He didn’t bother to check on what Techno was doing as he slid down, bowl carefully pinned between his arm and his body, and felt no need to tell the hybrid he was leaving. The last thing he wanted was to piss him off or something.

As he made his way over to the hole in the floor that would lead to his home, he was unaware of the contemplative, glowing red eyes that followed him. Nor did he see how those eyes narrowed as they landed on the bowl he was still carrying.

The next day, Tommy jolted awake as the sound of knocking reverberated through the hollow he lived in. He yelped in surprise and promptly tumbled out of his makeshift bed, a pile of wool and other fabric he had managed to steal from Techno. For a moment he stayed on the floor, looking up at the carved ceiling as he contemplated whether it was worth it to get up or not.

The more trust you gain, the more you can get away with. Work. Take what you can. Find a way back to Tubbo-

Yup, that was enough motivation to get him moving.

Slowly, he pushed himself upright and got ready for whatever Techno had planned for the day. Since it was morning he doubted he’d be acting as bait again, nor did he think he would have to deal with any mobs. Perhaps he would get a chance to relax?

Maybe he might be able to scope out some of the more valuable items Techno had that could help him since he didn’t have to worry about sneaking around as much. Or he could always try and check that book out and see if he could actually move the pages enough to read it.

But before he could even consider doing that, he had to figure out what Techno wanted from him.

It didn’t take long for him to finish freshening up, and soon enough he was quickly making his way back through the tunnels towards one of the few exits he had made. Fortunately, the section of the tunnel that Techno had damaged had been replaced.

Of course, the hybrid had left it up to Tommy to actually carve out the replacement tunnel, which left the whole system feeling pretty disconnected since the walls no longer lined up.

The prick.

Eventually he made his way out of the tunnel, climbed out of the hole in the floor, and walked out into the open. Instinctively he shuddered, hating how exposed he felt. This feeling only increased as he felt the ground shake with each of Techno’s steps. In no time at all, he found himself in the hybrid’s shadow once more, reminded of just how vulnerable he was.

He hated it, hated it so damn much, but he did his best to swallow his fears and not retreat back into the comforting shadows of the shelf.

“So, what’s the plan for today, big man?” Tommy asked, rocking back and forth in place as he stared up, and up, and up, at the hybrid. Damn Techno and his stupid tallness, making his neck hurt with how far up he had to look.

He let out a startled yelp when he was picked up, the back of his shirt pinched yet again as he was moved from the ground and carried over to the crafting table. It took all of his willpower to stop himself from struggling, lest he was dropped, and he felt no small amount of relief when he was put down.

“The fuck was that for?!”

“I didn’t feel like watching you fumble with a rope.”

“Fumble?” Tommy scoffed and flexed his arms. “There ain’t no fumblin’ with manly muscles like these-”

“Are they just for show or do you actually know how to use them, then?”

Well that question definitely caught him off guard. The borrower paused, momentarily uncertain as to how to respond, before he that cocky smile appeared on his face once again. “I’ve won plenty of fights with these bad boys-”

“Great.” He didn’t miss the way Techno rolled his eyes, nor did he miss the heavy sarcasm that laced his voice. “Try this out.”

The item that the hybrid nudged over was… surprising to say the least.

“It’s… a stick.” Tommy blinked as he picked the stick up and looked it over. It was a bit longer than the length of his forearm, and if it weren’t for the lack of a sharpened end he would have assumed it was just a toothpick. “You gave me a stick.”

“It’s for practice, I’m not gonna give you a sharpened one and watch you trip and stab yourself with it.”

“I wouldn’t-practice?” All the anger Tommy felt at the implication of being a clutz, which he absolutely was not, evaporated as what Techno was saying registered. “For what?!”

“Self defense.” Techno shrugged. Upon taking note of the aghast expression on Tommy’s face, he elaborated further. “Not everyone you meet is gonna be as nice as me.”

Especially if I need you to spy on L’Manberg.

“Yeah, like you’re just the shining beacon of goodness.” Tommy scoffed while rolling his eyes.

“Beacon? Paragon has more impact to it. You really need to work on that lexicon of yours, kid-”

“And there you go makin’ up words again! Paragon! Lexicon! What’s the next word you’re gonna make up? Ontological?”

“... Tommy, that is a word.”

“Your mum’s a word, and that word is bitch!”  

“Are you going to keep throwing a tantrum over the tiny dictionary you call a brain, or are you actually going to listen to me?”

Tommy grumbled and kicked at the ground before sighing and looking up at the hybrid. It was time for him to pay attention, no matter how reluctant he was about this whole practicing thing.  “Yeah, so what should I practice, huh?”

“Stabbing me.”

A burst of high pitched, somewhat hysterical laughter escaped the borrower upon hearing Techno’s deadpan response. He slapped a hand over his mouth as he struggled to control his response, not wanting to piss him off further.

What a weird day this was turning out to be.

“You want me… to poke your hand? What the fuck, man.”

“Are you planning on just asking questions or are you going to use those manly muscles of yours?” The narrowing of Techno’s eyes combined with the immense amount of sass in that question told Tommy that his patience was running thin. The borrower quickly nodded and took a step forward.

As the hybrid’s hand stretched out in front of him, fingers uncurling and palm facing upwards, Tommy quietly realized this was the best look at Techno he had ever gotten. Previously, he had only ever really processed snapshots of the hybrid. The long braid, the glowing eyes, the sharp tusks that seemed to shine in the light, everything had only ever been pieces and not the whole.

But now here he was, and his situation felt far more real than it had before.

He could feel the heat radiating off Techno, the natural warmth his body produced reminding Tommy of the furnace he would huddle next to with Tubbo when the weather grew too cold. He could see the scars that littered the hand in front of him, and the callouses that covered the palm and fingers. He could also see the nails, dark in colouration and dangerously sharp, that tipped each digit.

He had been wrong about Techno having dainty hands, and for some reason this realization only made his appreciation for the gift he had been given grow stronger. It was so easy to imagine the hybrid hunched over with a tiny block of wood held in his hands, struggling to carve it and muttering curses when it accidentally broke. How long had he spent working on it-

“Tommy.”

Shit, he’d zoned out.

He could practically feel Techno’s eyes narrowing in disgruntlement, and he immediately looked up and threw his hands into the air in exasperation, nearly conking himself on the head with the stick in the process. “Don’t give me that look! It’s all so… so weird!”

Weird to be doing this! To be so close to someone who could kill me! It’s all wrong!

And yet, it felt right in its own way. The weight of the makeshift weapon in his hands, and the part of him that longed for some shield to hold up. Tommy had always been a fighter, using dirty tricks to get out of dangerous situations while quite literally throwing hands with anyone who threatened him or Tubbo, but this was another kind of fighting entirely.

A style that felt both familiar and alien at the same time.

The hybrid, choosing to not engage with the turmoil visible on the borrower’s face, decided switch tactics. Demonstrations would happen later when he was more settled and less likely to break down in borderline hysterical laughter, the time for basics was now.

For the next several minutes, Techno explained where it was best to attack in order to do the most damage and even disable his opponent for a short period of time. He was… strangely calm, and knowledgeable as he pointed out which parts of his hand were softer than the rest, more vulnerable.

It was unexpected, and Tommy could only ask himself one question.

Why?

Of course, he got no answer, not that he had ever asked the question to begin with. Rather, he just threw himself into practicing the maneuvers he had been shown over and over again, quietly thinking about how helpful they might be.

Tubbo, he might have to fight to get to Tubbo, and if practicing whatever Technoblade taught him would help, he’d do it.

Meanwhile, the hybrid silently studied the borrower as he thought about all that he had learned so far, from the book to his general observations of the kid. There was obviously something else going on with him, from the way he randomly spaced out at times, to that determined look that would sometimes appear on his face. Anger would occasionally appear, too. A kind of anger that Techno was intimately familiar with.

Tommy was expressive, too expressive.

At least that made things easier for him, but it also left him with far more questions than answers. Questions he didn’t really want to ask, but was still curious about.

It was obvious that the borrower had lived somewhere else before he had decided to invade his cabin. According to the book, most borrowers either stuck to a house they stayed in for their entire lives unless they were forced to move, or lived in community settlements. There were also the “wild” ones, but Tommy’s clear lack of any self-preservation instincts made it clear he did not fit in that category, and yet both of the remaining options made little sense as well.

There were no nearby houses nearby that he could have previously lived in, he doubted the kid would have been living in the village without the librarian’s knowledge, and a tundra biome was one of the last places he would expect to encounter a settle of tiny people. So, what had happened that wound up with him being out here in the first place? And why did he care so much?

Ah, the greatest question of all.

Why?

Why was he putting so much effort into this obnoxious kid? Sure he had his reasons, but were those reasons enough to justify the work he was going to have to do. Why had he let Tommy stay instead of throwing him out like he would have done to anyone else, aside from Phil.

Why had he gotten so protective of the kid at the library? It didn’t make sense-

“Look Techno!”

Tommy’s shout snapped Techno out of his thoughts, and the hybrid looked over to see that he was now holding one of the other practice sticks. He grinned and enthusiastically waved them.

“I’ve got two sticks!”

He raised a brow as the borrower started hitting some made up enemy, swinging the sticks through the air and letting out noises that he probably thought were intimidating, but only made Techno quietly laugh to himself. His laughter grew louder when, during one of his more enthusiastic swings, Tommy ended up smacking himself in the face.

“You’re supposed to hit other people with those.”

“Oh fuck off!”

Hours later, Tommy let out a groan as he flopped into his makeshift bed, burying his face into one of the pieces of fabric. The cloth was cool and soft, and he let out a happy little sigh as it helped him cool down. His muscles ached, and he wanted nothing more than to pass out for the next couple days, but his mind was abuzz with thoughts.

Techno was teaching him how to fight and was apparently making him armor. It sounded like such a horrible idea, teaching the person who was practically a pest in your house how to fight back, and it made Tommy wonder why.

Why was he being taught how to fight? Why was he being given weapons and armor? Was there something he needed to keep himself safe from? Someone?

“It’s a good thing I don’t follow laws, then.”

The hybrid’s “retirement”. The amount of weapons and armor Tommy had seen. The potions.

Was… was Techno a criminal? Had he unintentionally put himself in more danger by choosing to stay here? He knew nothing about him other than his dry sense of humour, his aloof personality, and how intimidating he was.

Dammit, this is why he needed Tubbo. Tubbo would have warned him about the possible dangers, discouraged his ideas, and brought reason to his chaotic thoughts.

It was at this moment that Tommy also realized that among the training and sparse breaks, he hadn’t been able to check out the book either.

Fuck.

                                   xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ah yes, the slow development from “you’re a pain in my ass and I’m only putting up with you for personal gain” to “okay, you might be decent”.

Also, there are many things I'm gonna make Tommy kind of cry over. A bowl of soup is just one of the more out there instances XD

[abbuniverses]

server icon for may!! this counts as the royabb results art /j

[hoodoo12]

Elegy (1/6)

What follows is a story of Miss Argentina and Beetlejuice and how their own personal issues keep them locked in their own private hells. Contains smut and angst. It was done as a rp between @clairjohnson and myself. NSFW. Beetlejuice/Miss Argentina. Beej is a combination of movie and musical; Miss Argentina has contains hcs (such as her name and circumstances). Also contains minor mentions of OC Dante’s Inferno employees.  (Tagging people who have asked in the past. If you’d like to be tagged, hmu. If you’d like to be untagged, hmu.   @turtlepated @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @janitor-boy @beejiesbitch @angelicspaceprince) Enjoy!

He’d married, been murdered, vanquished the evil that was Juno – he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again anytime soon – said some weird heartfelt goodbyes to people he just terrorized, and was carried off by his clones in the smallest, most subdued mosh pit style ever, for an exit that was worthy of some kind of award, just for the theatrics of it. 

The second he was through the swirling mists of the doorway that separated the living from the Netherworld, he turned on his own clones and attacked them remorselessly, using claws and teeth to tear them apart, growling like he’d lost his mind and spitting like he was rabid. 

None of the clones attempted to fight back or escape. They were part of him, and he was so fucking angry – it made him angrier that they just took their destruction passively, his destruction, a destruction of self that made his hands drip with gore, his mouth taste like clotted blood, and his clothing, the tuxedo conjured specifically for something positive in his fucking waste of a life, a deeper color. 

He hated this fucking suit. 

He was too exhausted by the end of his rampage to flick it away, however. Stepping over the piles of meat that had been clones, he wiped his hands down his front and winced as they brushed over the new ventilation that goddamn teenager graced him with. He kicked the door to the waiting room hard enough that it bounced off the interior wall of purgatory, startling the assholes sitting around waiting for their stupid numbers to be called.

---

It had been another slow day in the waiting room. Not that Miss Argentina had any way to count “days” – time had little meaning in death – but her job was as uneventful now as it had been several hundred new arrivals ago. Staring down at her clipboard Maria crossed out the name of the last soul she’d sent back to meet their case worker. Juno was surprisingly absent at the moment, but the receptionist wasn’t too concerned. Her boss was a work-alcoholic and honestly, what else did Juno have to do? She’d be back soon. 

In a practiced motion, one she’d done a million times, Maria stood and slid open the dividing screen to the waiting room. 

“Number 5,678 Mr. Hen – “ 

The rest of the name caught in her throat when the door to the left of her was blown open, rattling on hinges that threatened to give. A split second of panic washed over her, an emotion really only needed for the living, before she saw who it was.

Betelgeuse. 

“Mr. Hendrix,” she finished, moving her gaze from the fuming poltergeist to the sorry looking dead man standing up from his seat. “Your caseworker is waiting for you – please step through those doors.” 

Maria placed her clipboard back on the desk then leaned out the window a little further, giving the older, bloodied man a deeper once over. “Back so soon, Mr. Betelgeuse? Should I pull you a number?”

"Fuck this place and fuck the numbers!" he spit, literally spit, making the ghost sitting nearest in his line of fire wipe his face as he hoisted himself up – some kind of heart attack took him, no doubt, from the lack of obvious trauma and the effort he took to get out of the molded plastic chair – and hurried as fast as he could out of range. 

He could take that chair and beat down every wall in this place. He could tear apart every single soul in this forsaken pit. He could bypass the eons of fucking waiting and just march right down the hall to the Lost Souls' Room –

– scary thing was, that option held some real fucking appeal at the moment. 

Beetlejuice glared at each and every dead person cowering in place. Fucking losers. Just like the fucking Maitlands, but worse, because they followed the goddamn directions in the fucking Handbook and were now stuck here. 

But what did that say about him? the voice in the crate in the back of his mind whispered. You tried, and you still ended up right.here.with.them. 

Beetlejuice grabbed the side of his head, mindless of the residual tackiness on his hand, and gave his hair a yank. Sometimes that dislodged the voice enough to make it shut up. 

His gaze fell on the beauty queen behind the partition. He couldn't tell if she was politely waiting for his tantrum to subside, or if she was being indifferently patient, having seen it all before.

Maria wondered, absently, where all the blood had come from. She noticed the gaping hole in his chest and assumed it might all be his – but it was always hard to tell with Betelgeuse. His brand of “bio-exorcising” wasn’t the cleanest. However, based on his outfit, she doubted his day job was what sent him back here. The fool had tried to get married again. 

Fixing him with a cool, pleasant smile, Maria yanked a number from the ticket dispenser and held it up. “I’ll just pull one for you, then. You know the rules – no number, no getting to see Juno.” 

The beauty queen leaned further out of the window and rested her chin in the palm of her hand – her clipboard and list forgotten for the moment. Red tuxedo – a classic for him. How many times had she seen him in it? She could remember at least four, and she guessed he’d worn it twice as many times before she’d crossed over. Betelgeuse never told her how old he was, but after working with him for over three decades, it was clear he had a few hundred years under his belt. 

When was he going to stop pulling this stunt? It never worked. Always ended up with him down in the waiting room – back here with her. Maria bristled, both angry and jealous that he got to leave this hell and go gallivanting top side as he pleased. Her smile tightened and she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You never invite me to your weddings,” Maria said casually, lifting the hand from her chin to examine the ruby manicure. “Any good plans for your honeymoon?” 

She flicked her gaze up to catch his reaction.

The bitterness and pure rage inside him managed to ratchet up another notch with the receptionist's detached apathy to his situation as she offered the ticket out to him.

Anyone else, and he'd have taken that hand off at the wrist; he could feel his teeth lengthen in anticipation of it. As it were, he snatched the paper away with enough force to tear it. He crumpled it in his fist and shoved it into a pocket without looking at it, casting his glance around the room again at all the lesser assholes who were pointedly trying not to look at him and become the focus of his ire. 

Maria's words, her barbed little query spoken in her light accent, just poured salt into the gaping hole in his chest. 

"Fuck you," he roared. His voice cracked.

Maria was used to seeing Betelgeuse angry. She was also used to seeing him happy – manically so. The man had a way of taking emotions to the extreme. She was not, however, used to hearing the crack in his voice. The next biting remark died on her tongue and she peered up from her nails, her brow furrowing. 

“Oh, don’t look so upset.” She tutted, but there was less sarcasm behind it. “You have all the time in the world to try again, don’t you? It’s not like you’re stuck here (like she was). Not for long, anyway.” 

Had this time been different from his other attempts? The pain in his expression suggested so. If he kept this up she may just bring him around back to avoid disturbing the waiting ghosts. Maria didn’t like bending the rules, but for the good of her job she’d bend them. That’s what she told herself at least. For the job.

try again 

not like you're stuck here 

Her words meant to comfort stung, jamming themselves like smaller spears into his chest. She was partially right. It wasn't like he was stuck here, so long as he could convince some dumb sucker to fulfill the terms of the contract. Finding the right dumb sucker was what took the time and energy. 

That led to the whole "try again" debacle. What was the point? He'd never succeed; despite the seemingly impressive power he had in the upper world, it was useless. He was useless, like everything was smoke and mirrors and the one being fooled was him. 

He realized he had his fists clenched so hard he was shaking. The ghosts surrounding him in the mismatched furniture, patiently waiting their turn, still did their damnedest to pretend they heard and saw nothing. 

"No one is like me!" he'd shrieked in the Maitlands' faces. 

The stupid deads sitting here proved it. He had half a mind to grab the nearest one and rip him apart like he'd treated his clones, just to continue to give his rage an outlet, but on top of everything else he didn't want to deal with the consequences of that. Maria was still watching him, as if she expected him to do something of the sort, like she was steeling herself to have to intervene and de-escalate him, even though he knew it wasn't anywhere near part of her job.

The shaking of his fists drew her gaze down – would he really be so brash as to tear through the souls waiting? Not that he could actually kill anyone, but it would make them have to get a new place in line . . . and the paperwork involved would be a headache. 

Maria lifted her Miss Argentina sash over her head and draped it on the back of her chair. Quietly, but quickly, she moved around her desk and out the side door that led to the waiting room. Like approaching a wild animal you didn’t want to startle, Maria crept forward. Delicately, she placed her fingers on the side of his arm to get his attention, keeping her back straight and her expression calm. 

“How about you come wait in the back, Mr. Betelgeuse.” 

Her voice was smooth. She had started adding in the “Mr.” when he’d gone rogue and stopped working for Juno. The days of familiarity, of her calling him “Beej”, were long gone. Maria still kept a certain level of fondness for the poltergeist, though she’d never admit it aloud.

The roots of his hair were probably the color of this fucking suit. 

When Maria physically approached and laid a manicured hand on his arm, he almost spun on her. When the pressure on his arm increased, aided by her nails digging in so hard he could feel them through the layers of fabric, he forced himself to relent. 

"Fine," he agreed bitterly.

She’d felt him tense at her touch, and Maria briefly considered she’d made a grave mistake approaching him, until his muscles relaxed – slightly – under her fingers. Thank goodness. 

Keeping her hand on his arm the receptionist guided him to the office door. She peered out to catch the relief on the newly dead faces before shutting it behind her. 

“Take a seat.” She gestured to the chair next to her desk and sat back down on her own. She wanted to stay disinterested, wanted to keep things professional, but she couldn’t.

“So.” Maria pulled some papers together and tapped them on her desk until they were even. “Is most of that blood yours? I haven’t seen you looking so . . . out of sorts in quite some time.”

 The beauty queen looked at him from the corner of her eye, pretending to keep most of her attention on the work in front of her.

He sat where indicated, in the hard straight back chair beside her desk. If he wanted, he could look up and see the filing cabinets, the paths in the rug worn through to the subfloor underneath, the endless stacks of paper, and the hallway where the caseworker's offices were. 

He didn't want to. He could walk through the place blindfolded. Nothing changed in the Netherworld; it was all slog and dismay. And they thought he was crazy for wanting back out?! 

A cigarette appeared in his hand. Sticking it between his lips he glanced up at her question and statement. 

"Yeah. The blood's mine. First from that goddamn teenager and second – " He broke off there and used lighting the cigarette as an excuse not to finish and admit he'd torn apart his own clones in a fit of rage. " – never mind. Nothing matters. It's the same shit for eternity."

Maria watched, with pointed interest, as he brought the cigarette up to his mouth. Well, at least the blood was his. Less mess for Juno to clean up later. 

“Thanks.” She drawled sardonically, bringing her own cigarette into existence. “I’d love one.” 

As she took a drag, Maria let his remark sit in silence for a few moments, unsure of how to respond. Most of the dead seemed to be having an on-going crisis – and if Beej had been feeling the same, he’d never let on. 

“You’ve always been one for the dramatics. But never nihilism.” She paused, “ – also, did you just say teenager? You know what – I don’t want to know.” 

She threw her hand up at that, waving the question off. He was a scumbag, to be sure, but the thought of him being that scummy was not an idea she wanted to entertain.

He'd have felt bad about not offering her a smoke if he was in a different state of mind. As it were, it didn't even register until she pointed it out. Even then he couldn't quite bring himself to care. It was easy, however, to fill in the blanks she left out. 

"It was a fuckin' green card thing," he growled. "Most teens – especially gothy ones who think their existence is the worst of anyone, ever – are dumb as shit. Easy to manipulate. Except this one was too damn clever for her own good. She used – " 

It was on the tip of his tongue to admit his naked, desperate desire to be accepted was used effectively against him, but that made sour bile rise in the back of his throat and he had to swallow it down again. 

" – ugly art to impale me," he corrected after only a brief hesitation. He took a deep drag, and was dismayed to see that some smoke drifted out the hole in his chest. That kid must've punctured a lung. He sighed as he pulled at his shirt to try and cover it. 

From the corner of his eye he watched her watch him. He didn't want her pity. He didn't know what he wanted, but he knew he didn't want her pity.

Maria felt herself relax at his growled response – pleased to hear he was still a normal scumbag of the con-man variety. She couldn’t hide the twitch of her lips into a smile when he admitted how he kicked the bucket this time around. She’d seen a lot of dumb ways to die, but ugly art was a first. Chuckling through a drag, she eyed the smoke coming out of his chest, causing her lips to curl even further upward. 

As good as it was to have him talking, the anger radiating off him was still obvious. She could practically feel it on her skin. Whenever he got out of hand Juno was usually around to deal with him – but not this time. She was still surprisingly absent. Fortunately, Maria had worked here long enough to know what her boss’s trump card was. 

“Juno’s been away from the office today.” she started, putting out her cigarette in the glass tray on her desk. “And you look like you’re in the need of a distraction after . . . your little accident.” 

The receptionist spun her chair to face him, one slender bare leg crossed over the other, and raised a brow at the bloodied ghost. 

“How does a drink or two at Dante’s sound? On Juno’s tab, of course.” 

She smiled, scarlet lips parting to show off her straight white smile. In many ways the two were opposites. Beej was unapologetically himself, moss and all, while Miss Argentina went to great lengths to appear perfect. Even though she had let some of that anxiety go in death, bad habits were hard to break. 

“I’ll join you – if you don’t mind. I could use some time out of the office.”

In an effort to appear disinterested in the state of both his clothing and the new hole he was going to have to figure out how to close, Beetlejuice kept his eyes on the paperwork she'd straightened. A kid's profile, from the looks of it. One perk about working as Juno's assistant way back when was helping the kids when they came through –

He glanced up sharply when Maria mentioned Dante's. Actually suggesting it, and accompanying him to it. He would've thought that the beauty queen would pretend that place never existed, although he knew she must have been both scouted and offered a job there. 

"On Juno's tab? A drink or five sounds great." 

Some time that old hag was going to show up again, slathered in Sandworm spit and gastric juices, and he'd much rather not be found here if possible. He stood up abruptly, making the wooden chair squeal against the floor. 

"Fine. I'll let you take me out."

“Only drinks, Mr. Betelgeuse. I’m not paying for any other services.” 

Miss Argentina hadn’t had a chance to be out in quite some time. With an eternity stretching out in front of you, there was little rush to do much of anything other than your assigned job. Peering down at her burgundy gown, she also realized she hadn’t changed her outfit in years – wearing the same dress to two different parties used to be a mortifying thought when she was alive. 

How things change. The beauty queen stood, and with a few moments of concentration, changed into a red cocktail dress. Her French curled hair now in tight waves around her shoulders. It felt nice. A little like being alive, even. Even if it was just to go out and watch this man get drunk off his ass. But she understood his desire to live again – didn’t all ghosts wish they could be top side? He was certainly the most tenacious about getting there. 

“All right, ready when you are,” she said while smoothing down her new outfit. She turned from the older man and started towards the office exit, throwing a ‘are you coming?’ glance over her shoulder at him.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her hands smoothing down the fabric of her choice of dress. With his cigarette still caught between two fingers, he ran his thumb over his lower lip, thinking about the differences between the dead and the breathers changing clothing – the breathers had to take it off and put it back on, versus simply willing a new outfit into existence. 

Of course the dead could be titillatingly mundane, if they chose. It was too bad this was the never-closed office, and there was a waiting room full of ghosts on the other side of the glass partition –  

At her invitation and with a sigh, Beetlejuice stepped off the road that daydream was headed. He'd lost the chance with her a long time ago. 

He flicked his still lit cigarette into the ether and decided if she was going to be dolled up, it wouldn't be right for him to accompany her in what he was wearing. Between one step towards the door and the next, his blood-soaked tux became his favorite striped suit. He left the hole in his torso under his shirt. 

"Lead the way, muñeca." tbc . . .

[artificialqueens]

The Birthday Party (Diamond Chaney) - Ortega

fic summary: Ellie spends the night of her birthday crying over a girl that doesn’t like her back. Lawrence will consider the evening a success if she can comfort her without her own heart shattering in the process.

a/n: this one goes out to the anon on my blog that asked me “after rereading freshers au about 3 million times I must ask… are we getting a chapter about Ellie’s 18th birthday party? I’m just thinking about the unrequited crushing/diamond Chaney potential”. apparently i am unable to say no to any anon that comes to me asking for more diamond chaney content, nor am i able to name any of these fics after anything other than 1975 song titles. hope u all enjoy!

***

It’s an image that could hang in the Louvre but it’s one that breaks her heart.

Ellie is sitting on a red brick wall with her legs dangling off it, pale and bare except from a couple of bruises where she’s banged them off the flat’s furniture. The grass on the raised ground behind her is wet and cold, shining under the streetlamps in the damp of that hazy timezone between midnight and morning. She’s right in the middle of the yellow spotlight from above, and Lawrence thinks it’s weird how a colour that’s the same as the sun can all at once seem so cold. The mist, though light, hangs suffocating and stagnant in the air. It casts its moisture over the cars parked on the road opposite, and there’s an urge Lawrence has to push down to draw a little heart on a car bonnet, then zig-zag a line down the middle to break it.

Lawrence thinks she looks like some sort of Disney Channel character come to life; pink and white checked gingham skirt, white, long-sleeved crop top. The pink Filas with the hearts that she’d spent way too much of her student loan on and the matching pink bow that sits squint in her curly, rain-frizzy hair. There’s a crumpled, sad ball of a tissue clutched tight in her white-knuckled hands, and her pink acrylics are outlined with black smudges. Her head hangs towards her lap and as she tilts it to the sky Lawrence can see her face; her makeup, still completely perfect, but with two long, unbroken tear tracks of black mascara and eyeliner that stream down her cheeks like some sort of poison.

Lawrence feels like crying herself, almost had done when Ellie had broken down to them all in the club toilets. When she’d sobbed and her chest had risen and fallen so rapidly, illustrating the pieces of her heart that were shattering inside her ribcage as if Tia was blowing them up with dynamite. When A’whora had shushed her comfortingly and rubbed her back and Bimini had fed her tissue after tissue from the loo roll dispenser. When Ellie had whispered with all the hope and life gone out of her voice,

“I like her so much, and she doesn’t even know, and she’ll never see me like that.”

And Lawrence couldn’t say a word because she couldn’t trust herself to. Because she didn’t even know what to say. Really what could she say when Ellie had said it all already?  

She recalls the way the bass from the songs that were playing out in the main room of the club had seemed so much like a sinister heartbeat; the soundtrack to the dread that Lawrence was feeling, that feeling of something slipping away.

Well, not something. Ellie.

Tayce hadn’t had much time for the whole situation. Lawrence knew she cared, of course, it would be harsh to say she didn’t, but she had been drunk and not particularly tactful. She’d hoisted Ellie to her feet, smudged away her tears from beneath her lashes with her thumbs and cupped her face as she gave a speech about how Ellie didn’t need anyone to make her feel happy, and how if Tia wasn’t going to notice her then there were a million other girls and guys out there that would, and how Ellie couldn’t let anyone spoil her night and Tayce wasn’t going to let that happen either. The song’s transition into Be Faithful had prompted Tayce to take charge, gripping Ellie’s hand and leading them all out of the toilets and onto the dancefloor with a battle cry about how this was her song, and how there was no way in hell she was missing the opportunity to get to dance to it with her best bitches.

Lawrence had known that Ellie hadn’t really felt better, though. The smile on her face was fake and she’d disappeared when the others were all too distracted bickering about whose round it was next. Lawrence had seen her disappear through the main doors and towards the exit- really the idea of Ellie being able to sneak off anywhere was laughable given her height- and so she’d dashed off without thinking, following her while a sinking feeling rose in her gut.

And now she’s here, a little way along the street outside the club, looking at Ellie and her broken heart and trying to figure out how to clean up the mess without a dustpan and brush.

So she awkwardly approaches her, forcing a smile as Ellie lifts her head to look at her through sapphires filled with tears. She decides to go with what’s always served her well though life and injects some fake cheer into her voice as she opens the joke.

“Did I ever tell you about the time the police chapped my door an’ told me my dogs were chasin’ people on bikes?” she opens limply, the joke already the verbal equivalent of a racehorse about to be made into glue. “My dogs didny even have bikes.”

Ellie gives an empty shell of a laugh in return. Lawrence supposes it’s the joke equivalent of “ask a stupid question, recieve a stupid answer”- tell a shite joke, recieve a shite laugh in reply. She’s rendered silent again, left to awkwardly scuff her foot over the glistening, frosty ground until Ellie gives a shuddery breath in.

“Y'should be back inside with the others,” she starts quietly, paws at her sniffly nose with the back of her hand, the tissue being long since rendered useless. “Having fun and getting drunk instead of listening to my shit.”

“I’m already drunk,” Lawrence shrugs at her. It’s half true. She feels too exposed as she follows it up with, “And it’s not fun if I know you’re upset.”

The tiny smile that appears on Ellie’s face and the way her eyes gain just a tiny bit of life makes coming out here in the freezing cold worth it.

“Ellie,” Lawrence gives a small sigh of sympathy, moves to stand in front of her and lets the crumpled tissue fall into Ellie’s lap before she takes her friend’s hands. She’s thrown before she can say anything. “Fucking Christ, your hands are baltic.”

“It’s December in Scotland. Everything’s baltic,” Ellie gives the tiniest roll of her eyes, but her expression is mostly one of affection, the gesture clearly appreciated. The way Lawrence’s heart is sparked by it is way too embarrassing and ridiculous, and she feels like a total idiot for being in this deep.

She covers it up with a sarcastic barb, a raised eyebrow used as a capital letter. “Do you want a pep talk or don’t you?”

“Please,” Ellie replies flatly.

Lawrence has about a second to collect her thoughts, try to arrange them into something coherent and supportive like a child making a model out of junk and PVA glue. She knows it’s going to come at the expense of her own heart but really, when has she ever put her own feelings first when Ellie’s been involved? She wishes they both had the same aspect to their friendship as A’whora and Tayce: that undercurrent of flirting and tension, the fact that A’whora’s huge crush on Tayce is the equivalent of a present wrapped in cellophane, and if they’ve not already done something about that whole aspect of their relationship then they surely will soon. But with Ellie it’s different. Lawrence is bound by the ties of the purely platonic nature of their friendship and, while she’d love nothing more than to break them, there’s still that part of her that’s content to stay in the chains they created together because even though they’re tight, they’re comfortable. They’re safe.

Ellie is Lawrence’s friend, so Lawrence puts her own feelings to one side and acts like it.

“I know it hurts,” Lawrence says, unable to meet her friend’s eyes as she strokes her thumb over her knuckles. “I know it feels like the worst heartache in the world, and it’s terrible. You feel like the pain’s not going to go away or…like your heart’s been smashed. It’s that way where…you’re too far gone as friends now, and it’s that feeling of not being able to change that path you’ve both gone down and…it’s too late, and you’re sat torturing yourself with the what-ifs and wondering if…y’know, maybe if you’d done something differently, maybe this, maybe that…”

Lawrence trails off to allow herself to gain back some composure, because all she’s succeeded in doing is making her own heart hurt with the truth. It’s the fact she’s telling Ellie everything: every feeling she goes through when it’s just the two of them bickering affectionately together, or the pair of them spooning when they’re hungover and emotional, or bonding over the Scottish Twitter references that the rest of their flatmates don’t get. It’s the way that with every moment they grow closer it only feels as if Ellie grows more and more distant.

“But you can’t hurt yourself like that, you know?” Lawrence says firmly, snapping her gaze up bravely to look Ellie in the eyes. “You can’t go through every day wondering why you’re not good enough, because the truth is that…you are. You fucking…are good enough, Ellie, you don’t need to change anything about yourself. Just keep being you, because…there’s someone out there who’ll appreciate it. And love you for it.”

Ellie’s gaze turns warm and soft, and she blinks a few tears away before looking into her lap, squeezing Lawrence’s hands. “Thank you, babe. That’s really nice.”

Lawrence can’t bask in the appreciation for long though because Ellie then narrows her eyes at her and gives her an inquisitive look.

“You know. You know what it feels like. How come you know?”

It would be so easy just to let something slip out; a confession, an admission, the secret she’s been holding in for two years now. The way she could bat it all away and cover it up with the amount of Jaeger she’s consumed over the past two hour period if it didn’t go down well on Ellie’s end. The thing is, though, that a drunk mind speaks sober thoughts, and it’s so cold in the street that she’s starting to sober up anyway. There wouldn’t really be anything to hide behind.

So she gives a snort of self-derision. “I know I might just seem like a joke book in a flesh suit, but I actually have a heart underneath it all.”

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees softly, her smile growing a little bigger. “You do.”

Lawrence’s heart soars into the sky like a bubble or a ridiculous novelty helium balloon. Ellie’s being sincere; she’s not layering Lawrence’s joke with another joke, a playing card on top of another. She’s just being honest. She sees Lawrence’s heart underneath all the sarcasm and the comedy and the way she can’t ever lay a single one of her feelings bare. Sometimes Lawrence dares to hope, dares to dream. Maybe everything she feels is reciprocated even a little bit. This- with Ellie’s gentle smile and the way the streetlamp is giving her a halo and the mist that’s wrapping around the two of them- is one of those moments.

Ellie sighs heavily, cuts through her thoughts. “It’s not even like Veronica’s someone I can justifiably hate, y’know? She has to be fucking…nice, and sweet, and pretty and lovely and Little Miss Perfect. Of course Tia’s mad for her.”

Pop.

“Well, you’re nice as well,” Lawrence frowns insistently. She finds herself rambling a little, clearly not as sober as she supposes the cold is rendering her. “And sweet and pretty and lovely. And perfect. Actually, not quite. C’mere.”

Lawrence beckons for Ellie to lean down, and as she does she fleetingly thinks about how easy it would be to kiss her. Too easy but too overwhelmingly difficult all at once.

Instead, Lawrence reaches her hands up to do what she’d intended, and fixes Ellie’s bow as if she’s adjusting a crown for a princess.

“There. Perfect now.”

Ellie smiles sadly at her as she straightens up, whispers a soft, resigned “thank you”. She sighs, looks plaintively up at the sky, the yellow of the streetlamp and the inky black of the vast space hanging above their heads. She pouts, deflated and defeated.

“What do I do now?”

Lawrence looks down the street, back in the direction of the flat. She could tell Ellie to give up and get over Tia. She could tell Ellie there’s someone that she knows- that they both know- that actually has a huge crush on her, she just needs to open her bloody eyes because all that fucking eyeliner’s clearly making her blind. She could tell Ellie that even the blind man’s fucking guide dog can see that Tia is hopelessly infatuated with the tiny blonde children’s storybook character she’s been making heart-eyes at for the past three months.

But Ellie’s already heartbroken enough and Lawrence is trying to make her feel better, and the antidote of heartbreak is hope. So she gives Ellie two options.

“Well. You could just carry on pinning your hopes on a girl who you’re not sure’s ever going to like you back, if you think you’ve got enough hope and optimism left in you. Or you could move on. Find the someone else out there who’ll love you for everything you are, because there is one. I know there is,” Lawrence says, omitting the fact that said person is her best friend, standing right in front of her. She smiles tightly before adding, “Your choice.”

When Lawrence realises she’s holding her breath waiting on her friend’s decision she feels even more of an idiot than she already does.

Ellie’s smile turns a little more genuine and she doesn’t even have to say anything to tell Lawrence what she’s chosen. “Well I’ve never been one to go down without a fight, you know? So…let’s just say Veronica better watch out. I’m gonna come up behind her and knock her kneecaps in to win my girl over. No matter how lovely she is.”

Lawrence shares Ellie’s giggle with a heart made of lead. She’ll keep pining, then. Keep on keeping on, keep on sharing moments with Ellie that make her day and ruin it all at once, the cause and the cure of all her mixed-up emotions. She’d rather keep her friendship with Ellie and have her heart crack just a little tiny bit every day than not have the girl in her life at all.

“Right, c’mon you. I’m freezing my not inconsiderable tits off out here,” Lawrence says decisively, if a little quietly. She wants nothing more than to drag herself back into the club and fill herself with artificial happiness, drink and listen to dance tracks about breakups with a too-fast BPM for the subject matter.

As Ellie takes her hand the split-second before she turns around, though, Lawrence’s priorities change. Her friend’s face is pleading and a little shy as she meets her eyes for a second and then snaps them to the ground.

“Can we just stay out here for a couple more minutes? Sorry,” Ellie explains. Lawrence can tell she feels silly. “I’m starting to feel better just being out here with you, so…I don’t want to go back in just yet.”

Like a complete fool, Lawrence just smiles and nods. “Of course we can.”

There’s a small silence in which Lawrence hugs herself tightly and rubs both her arms, because, well. She is freezing. She’s freezing and she wishes she had a cigarette. Ellie clearly isn’t as wrapped up in her own thoughts as she had been before because she notices her friend’s discomfort, gives a roll of her eyes which is affectionate rather than exasperated and pats the wall beside her.

“Hop up and I’ll warm you up,” she says. The jolt her words give Lawrence’s heart is what can only be described as pathetic, jump leads to a dying car.

Lawrence tries to join her on the wall, placing her palms on the bricks and making to hoist herself up. Her short stature, though, is rendering this difficult, and with each new unsuccessful attempt Ellie starts to laugh more and more until she’s doubled over, unable to breathe at Lawrence’s various attempts to sit beside her.

(Lawrence always loves making Ellie laugh whether she’s intended to or not, because it’s a way of guaranteeing that her attention is on her. The more she can make her laugh, the more of her attention she gets, so sometimes Lawrence will act up as if she’s on an episode of Live at the Apollo with an audience of one, in the world’s first romantically driven stand-up set.)

Ellie continues to laugh, finally holding a hand out for Lawrence to grab with a humoured “c’mere” to accompany it. As Lawrence grasps her hand and feels sparks fly through her bloodstream, she also clearly underestimates Ellie’s strength as she’s tugged suddenly forwards and they’re both flying onto the grass behind the wall. All at once the pair of them are reduced to bundles of giggles; legs scraping against the bricks and bodies flush against the wet grass, both of them breathless with their hands still entwined.

As their laughter dies down, there’s nothing left but their faces close together and the rise and fall of their chests and the small, dippy smile that’s still there on Ellie’s lips as she looks at her. The black of the sky and the green of the grass and the blue of her eyes, colour in absolutes. Simple, like Lawrence’s feelings are anything but.

It’s ethereal and it’s sad and Ellie will never know what it all means to her.

“I love you,” Lawrence says quietly. It’s too real and too painful and too raw to leave it like that, a plaster ripped off a cut too early. She elects to follow it up with, “Ya big bow-legged freak.”

Ellie giggles again, drunk and appeased. This is good. This is what Lawrence had wanted; to cheer her up and put that starry smile on her face on a night that’s meant to be all about her, meant to be special and magical and not the bad dream it had turned into. Lawrence has filled her head with drunk platitudes and compliments that’ve hurt too much to give. Lawrence has done the duties of a friend. She is her friend. And Ellie is happy. Lawrence can’t be sad when she’s happy.

Ellie lets go of her hand, pulls her in and hugs her. In an instant, the dewey grass seems instantly warmer. The moment is nicotine and Lawrence fills her lungs.

“I love you too, babe.”

She pretends she means it like she wants her to, and the bittersweet feeling it gives her fills her heart like tar.

[jellyfish-barber]

Young Doppelgangers in the Derry Hospital

TW; blood, hospital, non-graphic injury, paranoia, homophobia ment.

Syd dragged their friend Stanley firmly by the sleeve of their flannel. “I can’t believe you did that, Stan, we’re in the middle of fucking no-where, in a little, shitty, run down town and you think that putting the moves on the most outrageously hick-looking guy was a good idea?” “He looked like he needed someone to piss him off-” Stanley managed, blood dripping down his chin, he cupped his hand below it, the other hand on his eye. “No! No, he really didn’t actually.” Stan merely snorted, accidentally spitting blood ahead of them. A nurse directed them to sit outside the 4th floor desk, so Sydney pulled Stan into the elevator, who stumbled awkwardly behind them.

“Hold it! Hold the door!” Someone shouted. Syd let go of Stanley and pressed the button that held the door open, while Stan simultaneously clamoured over to shove their arm in the elevator doorway. “Thanks kids,” the man huffed and puffed, leaning against the elevator wall as he made it in. “Don’t call us k-” “Is that Richie Toz-” Stan wiped his lip and flinched as the fibers of their flannel scraped their busted lip. “Are you Richie Tozier?” Richie went stiff and adjusted his glasses to look at the young adults. “Uh, haha, I get that a lot… Yeah- I’m Richie Tozier. You are?” He stared at the two warily and rubbed his eyes.

Syd became visibly uneasy, the man was staring at them and it was blatant. “T-that’s so cool!” Stan stammered, patting their pockets, disheveled. They fished out their flask and shrugged half-heartedly “Good enough I guess, can you sign this?” Richie eyed the flask and Syd rolled their eyes. “Sorry, don’t have a pen right now. Hey-” He turned to Syd, “Has anyone ever said you look like Bev Marsh?” Stan immediately burst into a little snicker. Syd bit back a groan, “Yeah, I’ve definitely heard it before,”

“...Well have you ever met her?” 

“Well, no, obviously not.” 

“Want to?” 

“What?”

DING.

They were on the third floor.

Before Sydney could answer the comedian he shouted into the hallway abruptly. “BEVERLY C’MERE!” Syd went stiff, Stan stopped laughing, they both slunk rigidly off of the elevator behind Tozier. And as if they were in some weird, poorly written fanfiction, there was Beverly Marsh, scrambling out of a hospital room. A nurse hushed Richie but he quickly waved her off, running over to Bev, bouncing from his heels to his toes and pointing at the two he had discovered in the elevator. She stopped in her tracks, eyeing them with the same intensity Richie had in the elevator.

Stan gave a tone-deaf, flailing wave and approached them with his non-bloody hand extended. “Hi! Stanley Barb--” “Stanley? Your name is Stanley?” Beverly echoed over them. She then looked up and down incredulously, as if she doubted their name was Stanley. “W-wellll yess?” Bev gently took their hand and shook it, looking back to Richie, Stan couldn't read her expression. “Interesting,” Beverly breathed out after a pause. Richie looked to Syd, beginning to wave them over. Syd made no response. Stan pulled away from Bev and held up a finger, prancing their happy-ass over to Syd again. “Novs? Earth to Novs. They’re nice, relax,” Stan muttered, placing a hand on their shoulder. Syd untensed briefly, but as Richie approached them, they went stiff again, grabbing Stan’s arm firmly. Suddenly, the nearby desk was completely overturned, papers flying everywhere. 

Stan consciously struggled not to bite their lip and began trying to catch the papers, leaving bloody smears on all of them. Richie jumped, scrambling back to Bev’s side. Beverly stared at Syd in a way that was less alarming, calm, knowing, almost. “Are you okay, honey?” Bev asked, taking a careful pace forward. Finally snapping out of it, Syd shoved their arms in their pocket, “I’m fine, and don’t call me that.” “Okay, okay, sorry,” Beverly continued to approach with more grace and gentleness to her then Richie could muster. “What happened to you?” she asked the frantic curly-headed boy? girl? person. Beverly shook her head awkwardly, she was still trying to rid herself of binary language and both of these people certainly were enforcing that. “I got in a little scrap but I’m fine!” Stan chirped back peppily which gained a gentle, scolding nudge from Syd’s shoe. “I’m a big fan by the way, of both of you,” Stan blurted. Beverly looked unconvinced but Richie offered a cheesy, awkward smile. “Thanks,” they responded in unison. 

“Y’know, not only do you look like me when I was younger,” the designer started, then turning back to Stan, “You look like our friend, Stanley Uris.” “Uris?” Stan echoed, chuckling slightly, “That’s an interesting last name it kinda sounds like Uri-” ”Urine! Right?” Richie blurted. Stanley grinned and nodded, “Yeah, Urine.” Beverly laughed and shook her head, “They’d hate that you immediately jumped to that,” “They?” Syd repeated, Bev simply nodded, looking a smidge nervous, “Did I do it right?” Sydney cracked a smile, instantly relaxing, “Yeah, you did it right, good job.” “Anyways!” Stanley spoke immediately after, wiping their lip again, “You said I look like someone? Because honestly, I’m not convinced.” Syd rolled their eyes as Bev held up her finger and ran back to the room she was in before. A nurse approached Stan immediately after they set all the now bloodied paperwork back on the desk. Syd had also collected items and paper while talking, and set theirs on top of Stan’s stack, hitting the bulk of it on the desk to straighten out. 

“Stanley Barber, right? Do you have insurance?” Barber went stiff and inhaled sharply. “No, no I don’t,” Richie perked up but kept his distance. Stanley started rummaging through their pockets. “I really just need someone to sew this up, the shiner is manageable. How much would that be, do you think?” The nurse raised a sympathetic brow and gently took Stan’s jaw, looking at their lip. “How much blood have you lost?” “Uh-” “A lot,” Syd answered, placing their hand gently on Stan’s back, noticing they were getting shaky. “You’ll probably need blood too,” “No, no, I’m totally okay I just need the stitches, hell give me the supplies and I’ll-” “I can cover their bill,” Richie blurted, pacing up with his hands shoved in his pockets. Stan jumped nearly out of their skin “Whoa dude you do not have to-” “No, no I got it, trust me I’ve got it.” The nurse simply shrugged, grabbing some bandaging to momentarily stunt the bleeding of Stanley’s lip and placing it there, “Okay, let me go get that paperwork.” “Holy shit, thank you so much thank you-” Stan spun around, lightly touching the bandage on their lip as a crowd of people piled out of the hospital room where Bev had entered. “No problemo dude I-” Richie looked back and smiled as his friends all filed in. Barber grabbed Syd’s arm, quickly becoming anxious and brushing their thumb over their corduroy. 

“Holy shit, Bev, you were right-” a taller, brunette man blurted. “I know, look at them!” Stan twitched uneasily, leaning into their friend. Syd bit their lip and crossed their arms, “Okay you don’t have to stare,” they snapped sharply. The group of older adults straightened up. “Can I ask your names?” another asked cautiously, his gentle brown eyes resting on the two. Syd decided he was safe. “I’m Mike Hanlon,” He said, lowering himself slightly and offering his hand to them. Syd shook it half-heartedly, Stan hesitantly followed. “Sydney Novak and Stanley Barber,” Syd said, thumbing at Stan when they introduced them. “It’s nice to meet you both, I’m sorry this has to be overwhelming.”

Someone slammed into Stan’s back, making him yelp and accidentally jerk Syd forward too who quickly planted their feet. “Shuh-shoot, I’m sorry St-” They turned around, a sleep deprived man that Syd found vaguely familiar ogled at Stanley. “Stuh-Stan what happened to yuh-your-” “I got in a fight, do I know you?” Barber cut him off. The man’s face contorted in confusion, straightening up and crossing his arms, looking past them at Mike and the group. “Oh,” he muttered, “Wrong Stan. I’m sorry you juh-juh-just-” “Apparently look alot like them?” Stan interrupted again, gaining an exasperated groan from the man across from them, and a disciplinary elbow to the ribs from Syd. Bill looked to Syd and stared for a moment longer before looking back at his friends again, brows furrowed in confusion. Beverly walked up behind Stan, gently resting a hand on their shoulder which gained another anxious squawk. “Here, this is us as kids,” “Wait you were all friends?” Stanley asked, taking her phone gently. A fuzzy picture of a scanned in photo booth set.

Syd snapped out of focusing on the mess of a man in the flannel, still trying to remember why on earth he looked familiar. They looked over to the photo and their eyes went wide, that did look just like them and Stan. Though, Sydney noted, Stan would never wear clothes like that, too sensible. “Wow,” they muttered, “No, you were right I kinda get it now,” they said, in reference to the staring. Bill laughed awkwardly, turning to walk next to Beverly. “How is Stuh-stan doing?” Barber perked up slightly before remembering the situation, still staring at the images on the phone. “They said they’re feeling a bit better, taking a nap right now,” “Oh thu-they were uh-up already tuh-today?” The man sounded disappointed and shifted awkwardly in his timberlands. “Yeah, but I’m sure they’ll be up later, relax.” Bev gave a sympathetic pat that had a teasing undertone Syd picked up on easily. 

“This shit is crazy,” Stan muttered to Syd who nodded slowly. “I’d need to be a lot more high right now to not be freaked out.” They heard Beverly and Richie snort, then Richie returned to filling out that paperwork he had been handed at some point. “Dude,” Sydney slapped Stan’s arm gently, “Don’t talk about that here.” They glanced, embarrassed, up at the group of adults. The taller brunette made a ‘lips are sealed’ motion, Beverly snickered again. “I’m going to go sit with them,” Bill blurted and bolted into the nearby hospital room with urgency. Richie perked up, finishing the papers and turning them over to the nurse, “I should go check on Eds.”  Syd raised a brow, that name had not been mentioned. They looked back at the image on the phone, there was a kid who was piled onto the young Richie Tozier in the photo, Syd didn’t think it was anyone that was present. 

Stan fidgeted anxiously, picking at the cuticles, Syd popped their hand gently when noticing. “You two should keep in contact,” Beverly blurted, “Come visit once you're stitched up, okay? And be more careful next time.” “Yeah Stan,” Syd grinned. Stan crossed their arms, “Okay, thank you ma’am. Let me put my number in here,” they flicked through onto contacts and added themselves, “Text me and I’ll let you know when we’re done.” Bev nodded, taking back the phone. The nurse was waiting rather impatiently behind the young adults. Syd rolled their eyes and muttered a forced apology at the annoyed worker before they walked back for Stan to get their stitches.

[thegirlwhobrokeintothetardis]

Survival (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Word Count: 2,266

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: You either fight or flight in response to fear, all in the name of survival.

Warning: violent themes, SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1 OF STRANGER THINGS

A/N: LOOK WHAT I FOUND!!!!! I guess I did end up saving this on my computer a long time ago!!

When you’re faced with fear, there are two options that open to you: fight or flight. For Steve Harrington, his instinct has usually been to run…flight as it were. He ran when he was 6 and thought there was a monster under his bed. He ran when he was 11 and got picked on for his bad grades, and he ran when he was 17 and he started to get feelings for you.

You were a friend of Nancy, not very close but Steve saw you hanging out every once in a while, at her locker or in the cafeteria with Nancy’s other friends Barb. The way you would laugh at something that was said would make Steve’s heart start to beat at a weird pace. Your hair hung in spirals of Y/H/C and occasionally got in your eyes, to where you would brush it away with a finger only for it to fall back in front of your face. 

When Steve caught himself noticing small things about you more and more, his stomach would flip painfully, and a chill would go through his lungs like he took a deep breath on a cold January morning. He thought he was feeling something for Nancy but when he caught sight of you at the beginning of the school year helping a freshman who had been knocked down by some jocks, and he caught sight of the warm smile on your face; oh man he was a goner.

The school year was continuing, and as the days went by, Steve’s love for you crush on you deepened. 

Then the fear set in.

The fear of rejection, the fear of humiliation, the fear that you won’t look at him the same way trickled its way into his thoughts and made him do what he has come accustomed to. He ran.

At this point, you had become somewhat friends with Steve Harrington, and seeing him obviously start to put space between you and him hurt. You had just talked to Nancy about Jonathan Byers and his missing brother Will when you noticed Steve across the hall talking with his friends. You caught his eye just for a second, and just as you were about to send a wave his way, Steve turned so now all you could see was his back. The smile on your face fell, as did your raised hand, and a feeling of pain ticked at your heart.

“Y/N?”

You turned to Nancy who had sadly caught what had just happened. She sent a small smile and rubbed your arm, knowing that you had grown feelings for the Harrington boy. “You okay?”

You sighed and gave Nancy a small smile that didn’t really reach your eyes. “Not really.”

“Forget about him, if he’s being an ass then that’s bullshit. You don’t need that.” Nancy explained. “Come on, I want to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

“It has to do with Will Byers.”

                                                                       --

Nancy brought you over to Jonathan Byers and they both explained to you what exactly was going on in your tiny town of Hawkins. It was hard to grasp, but the looks on Jonathan and Nancy’s faces brought you around to the idea of some beast going around stealing people. It was further pushed for you to help when Nancy said that it might have taken your friend Barb too.

The three of you trained, taking the necessary precautions for what you were going up against. You got acquainted with guns and brass knuckles if the ugly thing got too close. Nancy also started to get the hang of using firearms and Jonathan picked to use a bat covered with nails. Then the night came where the three of you had taken to the Byer house and set up to trap the thing that took your friend and a small boy. The walls and ceiling were covered in Christmas lights while the floor was littered with small traps to try and catch the thing. You were loading a pistol and making sure you were wearing your brass knuckles when a loud knocking came from the front door.

“H-Hey Jonathan, are you there man? It’s Steve! Listen I just want to talk!” Steve’s frantic voice came through the door as more knocking followed.

Jonathan and Nancy, who had been patching each other up on the couch, looked at each other and to you not really knowing what to do. You quickly went to the door and opened the door enough to see Steve and his beaten-up face, his eyes wide with noticing you.

“Y/N hey.”

“You need to leave.” You said, your voice hard. He couldn’t be here, what if he got hurt? You would never forgive yourself if he were.

“Wait, no. I’m not here to start anything.”

“Steve, you need to leave right now.”

“No, just- I messed up. Okay? I messed up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you away, I know I have a lot of explaining and apologizing to do but…I messed up.” There was a small moment of silence before Steve started to push his way through.

“Wait! Stop, Steve!” You yelled, but he overpowered you and pushed through the doorway into the house.

“I just need to explain-” Steve stopped at the sight of Nancy, Jonathan and the pat with nails on the coffee table. “Whoa, what the hell is going on?”

“Steve-”

“What the hell is all this?!”

“Steve, you need to go!” Jonathan yelled, trying to push him out.

“What is that smell? Is that gasoline?!”

Nancy seemed to have had enough when she pulled out a gun and aimed it at Steve, who started to freak out even more. “What?!”

“You need to go now, Steve.”

“Nancy put down the gun!” You yelled, trying to stand in front of Steve but he was trying to do the same for you.

“What the hell is going on?!”

More chaos started as Nancy started to could down and Jonathan tried to catch her attention. Eventually, when Nancy got down to one, Jonathan got her attention by pointing out the lights that started to flicker. “It’s here.”

You moved to try and push Steve out and get back to your other friends to help, but Steve was still in a confused frenzy that it was not helping the situation. “Wait, what’s here?”

“I don’t see it!”

“Me neither.”

“Steve, you need to leave. NOW.” You yelled, pushed Steve to the door with one powerful shove before heading back to Jonathan and Nancy, taking your gun out.

“Where is what? Whoa! Y/N, what the hell? Take it easy with that!” Steve yelled. “Hello? Will someone please explain to me what the hell it going-”

Suddenly, the plaster from the ceiling gave way, and a grotesque looking thing pulsated through the gap. Nancy raised her gun and started to shoot, which only got the thing to leave the opening and plop onto the ground. Jonathan grabbed Nancy’s arm and started to pull her away, while you did the same with Steve. “GO! GO! RUN!” Jonathan yelled. Steve followed the pull from you and his fear set in again, his heart pounding against his ribs. “Jump!”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” Steve yelled as he jumped after you and ran frantically to the room on his right, with Nancy slamming the door after him. “Jesus, what the hell is that?!”

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan said, both turning back to the door; Nancy with her gun and Jonathan with a lighter and the bat. You pushed Steve away from the door and got your own pistol ready in one hand and your brass knuckles on the other. Steve stared wide-eyed at the door and then at the back of your head, thinking how the hell you got in this mess. You could hear the creature outside the door, the chill going through your body and the indescribable sound reached your ears. Then slowly, there wasn’t a sound anymore. 

“Do you hear anything?” Nancy asked. There was a pause, then Jonathan turned off his lighter.

“No.”

The four of you walked out of the room, on your guard more than anything. When you got a good look down the hall and in the living room and there was no sign of the thing anywhere, you sighed heavily. You turned when you started to hear Steve muttering to himself. “This is crazy. This is crazy, this is crazy. This is crazy! THIS IS CRAZY!” Eventually, he was yelling and then lunged towards the landline to dial 911. Nancy went to him and grabbed the phone, throwing it across the room. “Are you insane?!”

“It's going to come back. So, you need to leave. Right. Now.” Nancy said, her voice low and demanding. Steve looked at her then to Jonathan, then looked to you and your damn determined look on your face. 

“She’s right, Steve. Go.”

“But Y/N-”

“Now!”

Steve jumped and that’s all it took for Steve to rush out the front door. You sighed and slumped your shoulders, a hand coming up to cover your mouth from the sob that was coming up your throat. Nancy moved to rub your back as your heart started to crack and crumble, all while you knew that might have been the last thing you ever said to the boy you loved.

Steve had made it outside and to his car, his hands shaking with the fear of what had just happened. Just as he opened the door to his car, he turned and started to see the lights flicker in the house again. He stared at the lights, and heard the distant yelling of Nancy and Jonathan, reminding himself that you were in there too. You were in there with that thing and he was just running away again. Running away from you while you could end up dead for all he knew. That made him freeze.

Dead.

You. Dead.

A scream shocked him back and he knew it was you. And he knew that he couldn’t run anymore.

Inside the house, the thing had shown up again in the pitch dark as the lights had gone out. It hovered over Jonathan’s body as you and Nancy shot at it, but also noticing that it wasn’t making a difference. Other than attracting its attention to you. The lights flickered around you, the thing pushing its way to you and Nancy, it moved its arm and flicked Nancy away like it was swatting a fly. Then it was just you. Your gun’s clip was empty, and you were left with just your brass knuckles and dwindling courage. You stepped back and accidentally tripped on one of the cords from the lights, falling and hitting your head on the wall behind you. Pain shot through your body as your vision started to blur, but it didn’t miss the beast open its face and reveal its sharp teeth and flower-like mouth. It also didn’t miss when someone jumped in front of you and hit the thing hard with the bat with nails. As your vision became a little clearer, you noticed who was beating the thing over and over with the bat.

“Steve!”

Steve twirled the bat in his hand and kept hitting the thing into the hall where it got trapped in the bear trap on the floor. A shot of pain went through you again as everything started to get mottled, and you heard the garble of yelling before feeling extreme heat and smoke making you start to cough violently. 

Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve stared at where the thing was previously, wondering where it went when your coughing caught Steve’s attention. He turned and saw you still on the floor and quickly made it to your side. “Hey, Y/N. Hey, you okay?”

You nodded as you kept coughing, feeling Steve start to rub your back. When you opened your eyes, Steve was there with worry embedded in the way he looked at you. “Yeah-” before you could finish, you winced at the throbbing in your head.

“What, what’s wrong?”

“I just banged my head when I fell. It’s nothing.”

“It's not nothing if you’re in pain,” Steve said, moving to look at your head. He pushed lightly on your skull and you hissed, flinching away. “You might have a tiny concussion-”

“Thank you.”

Steve froze and moved to look at your face, which looked up and meet his eyes. Steve’s heart started to beat weirdly again, and it was a couple of seconds before Steve remembered what you had just said. “F-For what?”

“Saving me. I would have been monster chow without you.” You smiled lightly, and that was it for Steve. It just hit him that you almost died. Just like he thought. Without even thinking anymore, Steve moved and pressed his lips to yours, pushing so he could just put what he felt into every second of that kiss. Your eyes shot open, only to close and pull Steve closer to you and run his fingers through his hair to deepen the kiss. Just as Steve pushed more to you, you banged your head again and pulled away in pain.

“Oh god. I-I am so sorry!” Steve said, caressing your face and pulling your head away from the wall. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine. Perfect.” You smiled again and Steve sighed and kissed your forehead, just so happy you survived this and you were where he thought you fit best: in his arms.

[justjessame]

The Deal Chapter 34

I was locked in the bathroom, where I’d retreated and redressed, when Negan finally had enough of my shit. I heard the lock tumblers roll and then he had the door open and was looming in the frame. Damn it. Why was he so adamant that I NOT lock the damn door if he had a fucking way to unlock it?

“Are you through with your tantrum, Jessi?” His eyes were flashing, but he didn’t sound pissed. Weird.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What if I’d been naked in here? What if I’d been using the facilities?” I glanced at the toilet. “What if I’d been in the shower? What if-”

He rolled his eyes. “Dramatic, aren’t you?” He huffed out a breath. “It ain’t like I haven’t seen what you’re packing, sweetheart. You’ve met my fucking wives.”

“Yeah, I like to think that we women aren’t ALL THE FUCKING SAME!” I glared at him. “And speaking of ‘dramatic’, what’s the point of telling me not to lock the fucking door if you could just fucking get in anyway?”

He shrugged. “It’s fucking easier to get in, if I don’t have to fucking pick the damn thing.” He gestured for me to get my ass out of the bathroom. “Come on, we’ve got shit to do.”

I brushed past him and grabbed my boots. Once I was ready, he tossed on his jacket and grabbed his best friend, the bat, and whistling led the way outside. The shit we had to do, apparently was oversee the supplies coming in on trucks.

I’m standing beside Negan, fulfilling my duty as his shadow when I hear the shot ring out. Gunfire? Looking up and keeping pace with Negan, we find my little brother holding a machine gun and demanding Negan’s head.  Well, I didn’t see that coming.

Carl killed two Saviors before D tackled him. I’d stood by Negan, his shadow. I could have sworn that I felt a bullet ripple the air next to my head. Did my brother nearly kill me in his quest to take out Negan? I’d felt pretty damn lucky when the target himself used a Savior as a human shield instead of me, but to die at the hands of Carl, well that would have just been pretty much keeping with my life so far.

Did I hear Negan right? Did he say Carl was ‘adorable’? I was going to end up dead. Definitely dead simply because I seem to surround myself with men who find the violence we’d been forced to learn to treat as a normal part of life"cute" or "fun". And then, Carl was given the grand tour, with me Negan's shadow along for the ride.

I should have been bored, or irritated, but I hadn’t really been there when he’d given me my own. I could have done without watching him play king on high on the catwalk addressing his subjects. Seriously, I could live to be a thousand years old and pray that the image is erased from my memory by some magical means and not miss it. Fresh veggies for everyone, without points deduction. Negan doesn’t want his people to get scurvy. Let us all give praise, “Amen.”

Respect. He thinks that the people cheering because he’s granted them free carrots is respect. Yeah, I'm pretty confident that I’ll be regaining full access to the lovely nothingness of my inner sanctum.

We end up back with the harem. They look like dolls, which I hadn't noticed before. Dressed almost the same, just sitting there waiting to serve their master. I gag internally. Carl looks pretty interested. Great. Wonderful. Now that I’m paying attention, I notice one of the wives takes Negan aside, Sherry the one who'd introduced herself to me. And then I watch him approach another one, and give her a talking to for, wait, she cheated on him? Jesus, am I in Melrose Place?

And then I watch as the wife that stepped out on him assures her 'husband', that she loves him. OK then. This isn’t fucking surreal at all. Then he basically makes out with Sherry. Did I trade my life to watch soap operas play out constantly? Please God don’t let it descend into porn.  Why couldn't he just have put me out of my fucking misery?  

Negan leads the way into his bedroom. And he glances at me to be sure I’m right on his fucking heels. Of course I am, I think, did you assume I’d stay with your concubines and mingle?

Negan sits and gestures for Carl to take my seat. Well, the seat I’m usually grilled in. I go to take the chair next to my brother, but Negan stops me and pats the empty space beside him on the sofa. Really? I have to slip past his legs and share personal space to get to the open spot. Too close for me. I keep my eyes on the ceiling, but he takes my hips in hand and shifts me over, forcing me to glance down at him and his casual touch. Ugh.

I sit and wait to see what punishment Carl is going to get for the deaths of two of Negan’s men. Wasn’t that what had caused Abraham’s death? My dad and the others killing his men? I wish for the numbness, because right now I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll have to watch something horrible happen to Carl.

Negan orders my baby brother to remove Dad’s hat, and the bandage that covers the horrible crater that Ron had created with that damn bullet. I watch as Carl tries to argue against it, but as I suspected, this is part of his punishment. Negan reminds him of the two men he killed, this is the price he has to pay. Carl flashes me a look, is he pleading for me to intervene? Or is he begging me not to look? He takes off Dad’s hat, and then unravels the bandage and my heart lurches. My poor baby brother. And Negan? Far from the compassion he’d shown me at first, taunts him. Telling him how disgusting it looks. And I close my eyes so I can’t see Carl’s pain or his tears.

Negan must notice that I’m taking it as hard as Carl, because I feel his fingers brush my hands clasped in my lap, and then he apologizes to my brother.

A knock comes to the door and I open my eyes. No one ever comes to Negan’s room. At least no one had since I’ve been here. It’s a rotund man whom Negan addresses as ‘Fat Joseph’. Charming, I think, fat shaming as a nickname. He was carrying the bat, which apparently has a name. Lucille. And I have to listen to the weirdest exchange over a weapon that I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness. Negan is speaking about this piece of barbed wire wrapped wood as though it was a woman. And again I feel pretty damn certain that with him leading me through ‘recovery’, I’ll be back to my numb self soon.

The Savior is dismissed. Negan returns to Carl. He tells him that his eye is badass and he wouldn’t cover it. That seeing my brother’s scar would make sure no one fucked with him. My eyes fall closed again, when Negan demands that Carl sing him something. Again, Carl tries to object, and again he’s overruled. When Carl starts singing ‘You Are My Sunshine’ I cannot stop my tears. Dear God, another crack to what was left of my mask. I feel his fingers brush my hands again, but I keep my eyes shut.

Lori. She used to sing that song to us when we were little. And Carl held on to that memory. Even after- They’re talking about her, about what happened. I can feel my heart clench. Feel my fear ratchet up at the thought of Judith. Carl tells Negan that he’d put her down, and my throat is burning from the pain of it. The memory. Negan offers that he understands why Carl’s gonna end up a future serial killer and I bend my upper half, folding in on myself.

I feel a hand on my back. It’s huge so I know it’s Negan’s. I’m fighting a building sob, and I try to focus on the fact that he’s trying to comfort me, and not on the fact that he created the situation he has to comfort me through. I fight to regain my composure, and he tells Carl and I that the ‘iron is ready’ and we leave the suite. My arms are wrapped around myself, and I’m desperate to find it. My darkness. The comfort of nothing.

Downstairs, a man is tied to a chair with the fire of a furnace burning before him. Negan gives a speech about rules. Their importance. And I look around at the gathered people. The wives are lined up in front. D is reaching for an iron tucked into the flames, and then before it happens, understanding flows through me in a shock of horror. It’s how his face was scarred. It’s the punishment. And then it happens. The man tied to the chair, the iron, and the scent of burning flesh.

My chest is heaving as I pant for breath. I can’t seem to get any air. Why can’t I breathe? I hear the buzzing of Negan’s mocking voice. I hear a buzz mentioning forgiveness. I hear a buzz, but nothing clear. And I’m still fighting for air. Negan returns to Carl and I. I’d forgotten my little brother had seen it too. Then Negan’s hand is tilting my face up, and he’s saying something because I can see his lips moving, but I can’t hear them, the words.

“Breathe, Jessi, breathe.” It’s Carl’s voice, breaking through the static. I focus on his words, and I work to calm myself.  Focus on drawing air in and letting it out. Until finally, I can hear the sounds of someone mopping. Of the scraping of a chair across the concrete floor.

When I’m breathing normally, we return to Negan’s rooms. And somewhere, downstairs, my brother’s gotten his confidence back. He taunts Negan for not killing him. Or Dad. Or Daryl. And I can feel his eyes on me, silently adding me to the list. Instead of proving Carl wrong, Negan invites my baby brother to take a ride with him.

I almost believe that I’ll get to stay behind. Alone to fall to pieces or to find my way back to the numbness, but I’m not that lucky. I’m included in the invitation. We take a cargo truck. And I’m put between Negan and Carl. I have a flicker of fear that this is going to be the last ride I’ll have, that Carl’s brash action has doomed us both.