#he’s only ‘shy’ around her after Lydia because have you ever been around someone you like who knows you like them but told you they don’t

[freetoflythecrimsonsky]

I’m not done being annoyed by this “interpretation” of Darcy. If he’s rude because he’s autistic, then the accidental implication is that he’s cured of his autism by love by the end of the novel. Which makes the “he’s the most autistic character ever” fics extra gross to me, personally.

He’s an ass, who knows better, and gets his assholery firmly pointed out to him by someone he cares about and respects who doesn’t know what he’s like when he’s being mannerly. Elizabeth just holds a mirror up to him to show him his behavior and he goes “i know how to be better than that, and i’m going to be.” The “autistic” behaviors he shows according to some people are the choices he’s making. Unless you’re trying to say autism is a choice, that’s a weird stance to take

Help i keep clicking on fics that surprise cast Darcy as autistic, not a guy who has social skills but is choosing not to deploy them because he’s a bit of a classist ass

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

The Beacon Witch - Pt2

-Y/n moves to Beacon Falls to stay with her Guardian Deaton and finds love in the shape of a wolf- Reader x Derek Hale-

Two days later and that old man at the clinic, was apparently now your new headmaster. Great. 

You walked down the halls meeting Alison and Lydia on the way out towards the Lacrosse field. People had been staring at you all, all day. You because you were the new girl, Alison because her Aunt had just died and Lydia because apparently before you arrived she had been in the hospital and went missing somewhere in the woods for days…. yup… completely normal. 

The sun was shining and it gave you an excuse to take of your leather jacket, your semi tattooed arms on full display. You were a little rebellious shall we say, it was the look that suited your personality the most. On the outside you were a little bad ass, on the inside however, you were still pretty self conscious and shy, something that you were working on.

You blinked when you heard the shutting of a camera flash. A boy was stood in front of you giving you a lopsided smile. You frowned, you didn’t like people taking your picture. Especially without your permission. 

“I hope you don’t mind, it’s for the year book.” You gave him and awkward smile. “I’m Matt, Matt Daehler. I’ve seen you around but you’re knew here right?” You nodded. 

“Yup, moved here a few days ago, nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” You did the polite thing and held out you hand for a shake which he took. When he touched you however it made your skin itch and you shivered. Not a good feeling. You tried to hide the reaction on your face and it obviously worked because Matt gave you one last grin and was off. 

“There’s something off about him, I can’t tell what it is but he gives me a weird vibe.” You shivered again. 

“Well, yeah, I’d find it weird too if someone was staring at me all the time and taking my picture any chance they got.” Lydia flicked her hair over her shoulder. 

“He’s taken my picture before? You frowned, how did you miss that.

The practise had started and you watched as Scott ran into goal. He kept on taking everyone out. You were no expert on the game but you were sure it wasn’t meant to be played like that. By the sound of an angry coach it definitely wasn’t meant to be played like that. 

“What is he doing?” The two girls beside you shrugged. Their Auras shifted too, only slightly. Why did people keep on lying to you? They weren’t telling you something. It was like the truth was there but you were looking at it through one way glass and you were on the reflective side. 

It had been a weird afternoon to say the least, Issac Lahey, a boy you hadn’t gotten the chance to know yet had been carted off in the back of Stiles dad’s police car. Apparently his father had been murdered. People were shocked but not as shocked as they should have been which solidified your belief that dodgy things happened in Beacon Falls on the daily. 

To top it off, minutes after the cruiser left with the lights and sirens, you were called to the principles office. 

-Y/N’s POV-

It was just like any other office you’d ever been in, apart from the man with the twitchy Aura was sitting behind the desk giving you a creepy smile. Let’s get this over with. You sat in the chair in front of the desk. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I just wanted to properly introduce myself since we didn’t get a chance to chat again at the vet clinic. You’re new, i’m new, were both settling into this place. How are you settling in anyway? From what I can see your grades from your old school were very good, only slipping slightly in your last year. That’s to be expected given what you went through.” He gave you a look that made you shudder. How the hell did he know what you had gone through. 

“Must be even harder finding out you’re a Witch.” Your eyes practically popped out of your head. How the hell did he know. That was impossible. Your leg bounced nervously and your heart started racing. 

“It’s okay, no need to panic dear, we hunters tend not to hunt Witches.” You watched, still as a statue as Gerard rounded his desk and sat on the corner, inches away from you. 

“Be warned, Beacon Hills is a place full of all sorts of monsters that go boo in the night, I wouldn’t want to have to come after you if you go getting yourself involved in…. extra circular activities, especially with the wrong kind.” The threat was there as clear as day. Your eyes were full of unshed tears, fear coursing through your body as you watched Gerard’s Aura turn bright red. Evil. 

“Speaking of extra circular, joining some sort of club or team here could be good for your grades and it will help you to meet new people.” He went back to normal, the threatening behaviour gone, now the act of the devoted principal had returned. “I hear we have an excellent art programme you may benefit from.” 

You left Gerards office shaking. How the hell did he know already? God, you hardly knew the limits of your powers as it was and he’s already giving you a warning. You shivered, “we tend not to hunt your kind” He said tend not to, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t… 

Caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the sleek black car parked outside, or the angry Derek having a hushed conversation with a panicked looking Scott. Your arm bumped against Dereks snapping you out of your daze. He turned, about to give whoever had nudged him an earful but when he noticed it was you, his expression turned from annoyed to worried. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Your hand came up to your face, batting away a stray tear. You smiled your rehearsed false smile and nodded your head. 

“Yeah, i’m fine, just a long day.” You readjusted the strap of your bag, securing it as you headed toward your gleaming bike. Before you could run and get away Derek had caught up to you, his tall broad shape towering over you. 

“You know, I know we don’t know each other well yet, but i’m a good listener.” His soothing, deep voice made your steps falter slightly. Tingles went through your body. 

“What makes you think we’re gonna get to know each other?” Your retort made him smirk, his eyes lit up and his eyebrows raised. 

“Theres something about you Y/N, i’m intrigued and plus, I normally get what I want.”

[crimsonwolfie]

A Love Like In The Movies - Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Prompt: You (the reader) have had a crush on Stiles, your best friend, since forever. Only...he likes the popular girl, Lydia...or so you thought.

Warnings: tinges of sadness, loneliness and a hint of heartbreak...but a ton of fluff :)

Word count: 3,071

masterlist

You tug at your bag, shoving about 3 books in at once in an attempt to be out of class as soon as the bell rings. Walking with your head down and hands clasping your bag up, you harshly bump into the new kid Henry, knocking him to the floor along with all his books and your papers....clearly you never remembered why your nickname was ‘Wobbly Whittmore’.

“Oh my gosh, i’m so sorry!” You utter with one hand on your mouth and the other helping him up off the floor. He stares up at you with a dazed look and a small smirk, watching you help scramble up his papers and books.

“It’s chill, don’t worry”

You look up at him with a shy smile, clearly embarrassed for your clumsiness. “It’s not, honestly i’m so sorry. You haven’t even been here for a week and already you’ve been practically beaten up..” you shake your head “that usually happens at least 3 months in” you wink at him, laughing lightly. Henry laughs back whilst collecting more papers from the floor.

As you both sigh, your hands collide briefly. It was just for a moment...but it made you feel something. At first it was shock, but then something you’ve wanted to feel for so long...just with someone else...Stiles. Henry’s eyes dart up at you, his cheeks heating up slightly.

“I...sorry i should get going” he quickly adverts his gaze and gets up, picking up what’s in his hands “how many people can say they’ve encountered the nice Whittmore in their first week, huh?”

“Oh god you know about my brother already?” you huff, handing him his books “Some friendly advice since you’re obviously a decent guy...stay far away from him.” You laugh, once again feeling embarrassed for being related to...well...Jackson.

“Yeah he has a...well...a reputation so to speak. Thanks again, see you around, Y/N”

“Later Henry!”

Walking through the halls you can’t help but think of Stiles. He’s adorable, cute, beautiful, funny, smart, geeky but in the best way, kind, gentle...the list quite literally goes on forever. But in all the time you’ve known him...he’s always liked Lydia. The girl who your brother used to date. Since they broke up, Stiles has never been so smitten. Sure, she’s gorgeous and actually really nice...but she’s who he likes...she’s not you. I mean, you never know...he could like you. You’ve never actually mentioned it to him. But then if you do, and he turns you down, you’d be crushed... completely!

“Hey Y/N!” Stiles appears from around the corner of the lockers, making you jump a little.

“Jesus Stiles, don’t do that!” You hiss as you hold your hand over your heart. He throws his head back giggling. ‘God how cute he looks when he’s happy’ the little voice in your head says.

“You up for a movie marathon after school? I got your favourites...” he moves closer

“Harry Potter?!” You squeal, clapping your hands together 

“Only the best for the best” he smiles with all teeth showing. You silently fist pump the air as he holds his hand out for you to high five him, which you do. Your hands hover in the air, skin hot to the touch, until he breaks apart and places his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll go and find Scott and ask if he’s in. Knowing him, he’ll want to bring Allison and with Allison comes...”

“Lydia” you sigh

“Yes! She’s just so brilliant, isn’t she?” Stiles hummed, his face cheeky and merry like a child eating ice cream. You tried to hide the hurt with a faint smile, because seeing Stiles so happy just warmed your heart. You didn’t want to be the one to ruin it.

“What’s up Y/N/N?” Stiles’ smile faded into a frown, concern painted across his perfectly honeyed eyes. Seeing this, you can practically feel your heart drop.

You fiddle with the rings on your fingers as your soft Y/H/C hair slips in front of your face. “What? No...nothing. Rough day that’s all-”

“HEY Y/N” You look up to see Henry running towards you with one arm stretched out towards you, the other holding his bag strap. “You left this, when we spoke earlier” he hands you a pile of papers, all with your name on.

“Oh, my god...I’d be totally screwed if I didn’t have this for tomorrow’s math class. I’m so sorry. They must have got mixed up with your papers” you take the papers out of his hand and shove them into your bag, smiling shyly at both boys staring at you. “Thanks Henry, you saved my math grade” you laugh, causing Henry to blush and bite his lip ever so subtly, placing his hand on your arm and squeezing it playfully.

“No worries, Y/N. I’ll see you around” he winks at you, earning a frown from Stiles. 

“Who’s that geezer?” He remarks, his face furrowed with a mix of both dislike and anger. Little did you know, Stiles didn't like seeing other guys flirt with you. He began to feel this deep pit in his stomach, his blood beginning to boil. 

You turn to face Stiles, pushing your hair back behind your ear. Sheepishly you pat him on the shoulder “i’ll see you at 3? Parking lot?”

“Yeah, sure.” He replies hesitantly, fidgeting with the rim of his flannel. You notice something’s got him wound up but decide it’s probably just him nervous to spend time with Lydia and continue to walk down the hall, making your way to health class.

━━━━━━━━

All throughout the rest of your classes for the day, you just felt empty. Nothing but heartbreak, emptiness, loneliness. Thoughts of him and Lydia snuggling up in blankets whilst eating popcorn and watching the movie kept bubbling around your brain. You tried to snap out of it, but nothing would work. You thought about just cancelling on the meet after school, knowing it would be way less painful. ‘They probably wouldn’t even notice I'm gone’ you thought. Your mind was like a prison that you couldn't escape...

“this must have been what Sirius Black felt like for 12 years” you mutter under your breath, not caring who heard. Sounds of faint chattering, pencils scribbling and the monotone voice of Mrs Rawlings can be heard around you, but none of it distracts your train of thoughts. Just begging for some sort of peace, you crash your head into your arms on the table.

“Hey, Y/N” you felt a gentle nudge on your forearm and look up to see Scott staring down at you, his hand on your arm. “What’s up with you dude? And who’s Sirius Black?”

You sigh with an overly dramatic eye roll, unwillingly plucking up enough strength to say once again that you’re ‘fine just a bit tired that’s all’...

“Tired.” is all you can spit out before shoving your head back into your arms. Little did you know, Scott could sense what you were feeling...I mean you didn't lie - he sensed tiredness...just mentally. Along with hurt, pain and loneliness.

“You sure? Well maybe after school you’ll feel better. Say, d’you reckon Allison likes...I don’t know...flowers? I... I was going to get her a bunch before I pick her up to go to Stiles’” You felt your tears drop into your sleeves, soaking both your jumper and your face as Scott continued. “Do girls like flowers? I’d ask Lydia but I'm closer with yo...”

“Yeah flowers whatever.” you mutter without lifting your head up. Scott scrunched his face, his brows furrowing. Usually, you were so much more supportive and excited for him - heck you were even more excited than him when you found out about him and Allison! You guys always told each other everything. ‘Something is definitely going on’ he thought to himself. He decided it was best to not say much more right now since he was already on a report in Mrs Rawlings’ class.

Just as Scott was about to hand you a note in class, the final bell rang. Instantly you popped up and grabbed your books, practically sprinting out of the door. Scott tried to stop you, but was called behind class by the teacher. You knew he was going to follow you, that's why you ran. No matter what, he couldn't see you like this, otherwise he wouldn’t drop it and would demand to know who hurt you - how could you tell him it was his own best friend?! As you’re jogging, you bump into the one person you wanted to avoid...

“Woah, slow down there cowgirl” Stiles holds your shoulders with his hands, his grip firm and comforting. He takes one look at you and notices your wet, blotchy eyes. You hang your head low in an attempt to hide your face from him...clearly it doesn't work.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s up? Who hurt you?! his smile fades drastically upon seeing the state you were in. Obviously you weren't going to tell him, so you just decide to make up something...

“I failed my health class for the semester”

“Y/N it’s not the end of the world, you can always retake!” he sighs

You turn over to him with your hands in the air, shaking your head. “No you don’t un...you know what, Stiles? I can’t come over later. I’m sorry.” 

He steps back in surprise, both hands leaving your shoulders and grabbing his bag straps around his arms. Suddenly, you feel angry at him...though you instantly regret snapping at him. “i...I’m sorry” is all you can stutter as you run out the door, leaving Stiles standing there wondering what he did wrong, for what felt like hours, until Scott saw him.

“dude what're you doing? We got a marathon to start” he smacks Stiles on the back full pelt, leaving Stiles to stumble a bit.

“Have you spoken to Y/N today?” he asks, his voice trembly, quiet.

“Of course I have. Why, haven’t you?” The alpha replies

“No I have, it’s just...she was upset and i tried to help but she just...” he trails off   as Scott steps closer, Stiles’ eyes dull.

“She just what?” he asks, his voice calm and gentle

“She said she failed health class...”

“Wait, no that's not true - I got pulled behind class today because Mrs Rowlings wants me to have a tutor for health class and suggested Y/N since she’s acing everything!?” Scott explained. Stiles jerked his head, brows furrowing once again.

“Wait what?” his hand flew to his forehead as he leaned against the lockers beside him. “She snapped at me. I think I did something, Scotty...but I don’t know what. She’s been distant for a while now ever since Jackson and Lydia broke up, and I mean I know that her brother hates us but I just didn't think Y/N would choose her brother over us or me and i...”

“Stiles, stop.” Scott grabs both of Stiles’ shoulders and makes direct eye contact with him. “Listen, okay? I think I know what’s up”

“You do?” Stiles’ eyes brightened insantly. He knew something was wrong with his best friend and he knew he would do anything to fix that.

“She likes you, dude. Really likes you. And I thought you would have figured that out by now...she’s always doodling your name in class and covers it whenever someone passes by. Plus, she talks about you all the time.” Scott understood why you had been distant, and he didn’t blame you.

Stiles’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of red as a smile began appearing. His heart started pounding quicker than Quicksilver in the X-Men films, butterflies swarming around his stomach and ribcage. “Seriously? Then why is she distancing herself from me?”

“Because she still thinks you’re in love with Lydia...her heartbeat quickens when she’s with you, or when you guys touch in some way” Scott’s tone becomes more serious, which is unusual for Scott. Typically, he’s always goofy around Stiles so clearly he meant what he was about to say next... “But when you’re with Lydia, her mood changes. I can sense it...It’s sort of sad, lonely...” his face melts just thinking of all the times he’s felt that same pain. “You gotta tell her how you feel, Stiles. Tonight.”

“But I can’t...she’s not coming!” Stiles replies with a croaky voice.

“Then you go to her!” Scott replies, his eyes wide with hope and his hands pressing on Stiles’ back, pushing him towards the door “go now, dude!” Stiles picks up his pace and jogs to the door, one hand gripping his bag strap and the other fiddling with his keys in his pocket. “And let me know how it goes” Scott shouts as Stiles leaves the building.

━━━━━━━━

As you reach your front door, you feel a tear trickle down your cheek. All you could think of was Stiles. How he would, at this moment, be snuggling and giggling with Lydia. You have nothing against her, in fact you are actually really fond of her, but it breaks your heart to know you aren't the one who can make the boy you love, fall for you. A pain runs through your chest as you slam the door shut, your breathing wheezing. Leaning against the door, you slide down...completely breaking down.

“Why doesn’t he look at me that way?” you mutter to yourself, head in arms as your cheeks soak into your sleeves. “All I've ever done is try and make him happy, try and make him realise how incredible he is...and he still doesn't see me the same way”

Nose sniffling, eyes red, head fuzzy, hands shaking and top wet...you get up. ‘You did the best thing. It was the right decision to stay home’ you think, knowing it would have just ruined your friendship if you told him how you felt. And anyway, you wanted him to be happy. And clearly, that wasn't with you...

You ran upstairs and changed into a comfy pair of joggers and an oversized top, chucking your slippers on and grabbing a blanket before heading back downstairs. If you couldn't join their movie night - you’d have your own! 

Snacks and a drink were sitting on the table beside you on the sofa, with the television on ready and curtains closed. Just as you had got yourself in a comfy position, the doorbell rang. You grunted, kicking the blanket off your legs and dragging yourself towards the front door. Opening it, you felt your breath escape you. It was Stiles, standing at the door, with a bouquet of beautiful flowers in his hands. His hair was messy as if he’d run his fingers through it a thousand times, his cheeks were flushed brighter and pinker than bubblegum, looking as if he was out of breath from rushing somewhere. You go to say something, but before you had the chance, Stiles speaks, “Hi! I uh....I didn’t know whether you were mad at me or whether you were just having a rough day but it seemed like you were mad at me so I wanted to see if you were okay and uh...I got you these” His arms stretched to give you the flowers, his face ridden with nerves. You looked down at the flowers and then back up to Stiles’ face.

“Why would you think i was mad at you?” You questioned, brows furrowing at the confusion of what was happening. “These are gorgeous, thanks Stiles” you coo with a smile on your face, taking the flowers from Stiles’ hands. As you grab them, your hands touch Stiles’, causing your cheeks to flush and your heart to flutter. Stiles’ own cheeks flushed at the touch of your hands, too.

“You seem distant with me lately. And Scott told me why...” he begins, fingers fidgeting with the rim of his checkered shirt “I like Lydia...” he trails off.

Upon hearing these words, you feel your heart drop. Mouth dry and sadness creeping into your mind, you feel clouded with emotions and thoughts. Why would Stiles come over, give you flowers and then declare his love for Lydia? “Yeah I kno...” you begin until he cuts you off,

“She’s my friend. And she’s amazing...but she doesn’t wait for me after classes. She doesn’t call me to check in once in a while. She doesn’t do anything in her power to make sure I'm happy or know I'm loved...” his beautiful brown eyes stared lovingly into yours, your heart lifting and beating faster with each sentence he says...

“She doesn’t know me, and I mean the real me...the one who suffers with anxiety, who needs a nightlight and needs constant reassurance on even the simplest things” you smirk at the mention of a nightlight because, well, you were the one who actually got it for him...because you knew he wasn't doing too good. “She is my friend, Y/N, but she isn’t my best friend. And I like her, but I don’t love her...because I love you. It’s always been you”

There’s a soft wind that blows between you both, causing you to shiver and shake with both excitement and chills. Stiles’ eyes glittered in the sunlight like an ocean surface in summer, tears welling in them. You bit your lip which trembled with an overcoming emotion of happiness as you leant forward and grabbed him, cupping his face in your soft hands and bringing your lips to his in a desperate yet passionate way. Feelings of euphoria and desire filled both of your hearts like a fire burning bright, lips moving sweetly in sync as in destined for one another. His hands wrap around your waist as you bring your hands through his hair. Nothing felt more perfect than this moment...all your worries gone and your heart fuller than ever before because the boy who holds your heart, who has held your heart for years, is finally in your arms. Stiles’ warmth radiates onto your cheeks as you smile into the kiss, earning a smile from Stiles, too. Breaking away to breathe, you both look down and giggle, hands intertwining with Stiles rubbing circles on your palm with his thumb.

You look up at him, smiling, as you speak “I...I love you too”. Stiles coos as he pulls you closer to him to break the gap now between you both, “I gathered” he laughs, kissing the top of your forehead affectionately. “So, how about that marathon?”

Hope you guys like it! x

[trilliastra]

[*drops a sterek fic after two years and runs away to hide*]

-

It’s all Cora’s fault and Derek will remain of the opinion that his life only went downhill the moment his little sister was born.

It starts with Sara, his sister’s friend, whose boyfriend turned out to be a jerk and would not let her inside his apartment to collect her things unless she took him back. And Cora volunteered Derek to help.

Derek didn’t really mind it at first, Sara only needed a guy to look strong (which he is), angry (which he was) and able to carry her stuff from place a to place b (which he did). But some weeks later Sara met a friend with an equally stupid boyfriend and said friend had another friend and then Laura heard about it and it suddenly became a thing.

Georgia, Nelly, Carmen, Lola.

Isaac.

“I could help, you know?” Derek had said after the fifth time he noticed the blossoming purple bruises on the back of Isaac’s neck, his scrapped knuckles. “If you need to get rid of your –” he lowered his voice, “boyfriend.”

Isaac had looked at him, wide eyed, before he confessed he isn’t gay and the problem was actually his dad. “Oh,” Derek had said, thinking for a moment before adding, “I could help with that, too.”

Turns out Derek’s intimidation skills were lacking when compared to his own father’s.

-

“You’re doing a really nice thing, Derek.” Isaac says one night, helping him with his hand. Asshole boyfriend of the night thought he could bag a few punches before letting Phill grab his laptop back. Derek was faster, and stronger.

Isaac moved in with him and Boyd two weeks after his dad was sentenced. He didn’t want to, at first, was still incredibly shy and scared of everything, including Derek, but he opened up to Boyd pretty quickly. Despite his built (and the fact he can bench press three times his own weight), Boyd is the softest person Derek has ever met.

“Sure.” Derek sighs.

“But?” He asks and Derek sighs again, looks away when Boyd walks into the room.

“I had a date.” Derek confesses and Boyd whistles in sympathy.

“How many times has it been, again?”

“Three.” Derek winces when Isaac presses the antiseptic over the cut. “I’m – I really like him.”

“You could just tell him.” Isaac says. “He’s a cool guy, I guess.” He shrugs, smiling. “Sometimes he’s an asshole. But not in a bad way.”

Derek huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Stiles is an asshole, he likes teasing Derek when they are discussing ethics in the workplace and every way capitalism is stepping over immigrants, they banter and they quote books back and forth and while some people (his sisters) roll their eyes when Derek brings up some history fact, Stiles nods along, brings up another history fact that Derek didn’t know (or sometimes pretends not to know, just to hear Stiles talking about it), hands moving around as he explains his point or badmouths a historic figure that owned so much money ‘their great-great-grandkids are still swimming in the gold they stole from the natives’.

Derek is in love.

“What did you tell him this time?” Boyd asks, munching on his chips. He shakes the bag in front of them and while Derek takes a couple, Isaac shakes his head, still not used to being allowed good things.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“That my mom had stopped by to visit.” Derek says. He hates lying, he is not even good at it. The first time he tried to tell Stiles he looked like a wet cat after he got caught up in the rain, white shirt sticking to his chest, Derek’s cheeks had gotten so red, Stiles asked him if he was okay.

“Dude.” Isaac says, shaking his head in disappointment as he finishes bandaging Derek’s hand.

“I know.” Derek gives back, collapsing on his bed with a groan.

This is all Cora’s fault.

-

Okay. Stiles texts back when Derek has to postpone their date again. Derek can feel the disappointment through the message, mirroring his own feelings.

How about tomorrow night? Derek tries, stares at his phone for minutes until he realizes Stiles probably won’t text him back.

-

“Please.” Maria says, holding her cat with a bright smile as they talk in front of a coffee shop. She is trying to convince him to accept a coffee and Derek is trying to convince her he doesn’t need it. “How can I thank you?”

Derek sighs. “I didn’t do anything.” And it is true, her boyfriend wasn’t working when they arrived at the coffee shop and when they opened the door of the apartment upstairs, it was empty save for the cat that Maria is currently hugging.

“You were there for me.” She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear and Derek already knows what’s coming.

It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last. He has been invited for ‘thank you’ coffees, dinners, sex. It never felt right, though. Not with the guys, and especially not with the girls.

Sorry. He always says. Some of them are attractive, he supposes, but he was, and still is, very much gay.

“I’m—” he starts, but Maria’s eyes widen and when Derek turns around, a guy is stalking towards them, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“You bitch!” He shouts, startling most of the costumers inside and the shop and the people walking around the street. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my cat back!” She yells back and Derek steps closer, eyeing the guy’s fists as he starts to shake with anger.

The guy notices his move and turns his glare to him. “And who the fuck are you?”

Before Derek can answer, Maria chimes in. “My boyfriend.”

“What the fuck?” It takes Derek a second to realize the words didn’t come from him, but from someone in the crowd, one of the onlookers that gathered around them to watch the scene unfold.

Two seconds after that, Derek realizes the person talking was Stiles.

-

That explains a lot. It’s the last message Stiles sends him before blocking his number.

Derek tries to call, talk to him after class, but his friends keep him away, Lydia going as far as brandishing a can of pepper spray in front of him, eyes shining with an unspoken threat.

“You should follow him to his dorm.” Isaac offers, weakly.

“Creeps do that.” Derek says. “I don’t want to be more of an asshole than I already am.”

“You’re not an asshole.” Isaac says, clasping his shoulder in sympathy. “I could – talk to him? If you want?” The offer makes Derek smile, touched. Isaac is still extremely shy in front of strangers, but just the fact that he considered doing it for him is enough.

“It’s fine.” Derek says. It isn’t fine, and they both know it, but he will pull through. Eventually. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

-

It’s harder that Derek anticipated, seeing Stiles during classes and not being able to talk to him, to tease him when Mrs. Schilder glares at him for using a pun that makes the entire room burst out laughing from second-hand embarrassment.

He is beautiful, Derek thinks at least ten times a day, and smart and kind and funny and Derek could see them being together for a long time, falling deeper in love as the time passes.

He should be used to not having good things. He grew up as a middle child, as a gay teenager in a small town where some boys were so far deep in the closet, they couldn’t find their way out, he should be used to not keeping the things he likes.

So why does it hurt so much?

-

“Derek—”

“No.”

“She needs—”

“Call someone else.”

“You are really going to leave her—”

Derek slams his book shut, kicks his chair back as he stands up. Cora’s eyes widen when someone tells him to be quiet and Derek simply ignores them. “I need to study for a test. Call someone else.”

Helping someone should feel good, it should make him happy, not feel like a burden. He is more than an angry guy with a strong body. He doesn’t even like confrontation. He started working out to burn his energy, to let out some of this anger that he’s been constantly carrying inside and he kept working out because he enjoyed it and now – now even that is ruined.

“Why are you being so selfish?” She asks and Derek knows, deep inside, that she doesn’t mean it like that, that she’s just as angry as him, humiliated by the fact he’s calling her out in the middle of the library. Still, that doesn’t matter now. Now, Derek is angry and sad and done.

“Fuck you.” He says and walks away.

-

His initial plan was to make it to his apartment, bury himself under the covers and not leave his room until his mother comes to give him an earful. Because she will, undoubtedly, when Cora tells her about it.

But Derek doesn’t make it to his apartment, he doesn’t even make it outside the library, simply makes a u-turn and heads for the dark zone, a space under the stairs leading to the storeroom where couples usually go to make out. There, he collapses on the ground, taking deep breaths, and buries his face in his hands.

This has been a long time coming, he thinks. He’s been on the edge for a while. This entire experience has made him remember how awful it was to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, to be only liked for his body or for his ability to pass the answers to the test without the teacher seeing him.

Some memories are hard to forget.

“Are you okay?” Derek flinches, surprised to hear Stiles’ voice. “Oh,” Stiles whispers, noticing Derek’s red eyes, the tears streaming down his face, “bad day, huh?”

“She was not my girlfriend.” Derek blurts out, head a mess of emotions: fear, anger, loneliness, regret.

“Dude,” Stiles frowns, confused, “I know Cora is your sister.”

“No.” Derek shakes his head, frantic. “The other day, at the coffee shop. I was helping her with her ex-boyfriend, I do that sometimes. He— he was an asshole and she needed help getting her cat back and I look strong and I know how to –”

“Woah, woah, slow down.” Stiles raises his hands, alarmed, and Derek realizes his own hands are shaking and he can’t breathe. “In and out,” Stiles whispers, “can I—can I touch you?”

Derek shakes his head, focusing on his breath. Panic attack, he remembers, suffocating. No touching. “Okay,” Stiles agrees, easily, “should I keep talking?” Derek shakes his head again, keeps his eyes on his hands. Talking is too much, listening is too much, breathing is too much. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Derek manages to gasp. He doesn’t want to be alone.

Stiles nods, leans against the wall next to Derek and starts fiddling with his shoelaces, twirling them around wordlessly. Derek doesn’t know how much time it passes, but he keeps watching Stiles’ fingers moving distractedly, patiently waiting for him. With him.

“I’m sorry.” Derek manages to say, eventually.

Stiles sighs. “I know.” He closes his own eyes before turning to Derek. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I—” Derek swallows heavily, “have to.” He answers, before shaking his head. No, that doesn’t sound right, “no, I—I want to.”

-

They leave the library together, Stiles standing up first and offering his hand to help Derek up. Stiles doesn’t let go as they walk towards Derek’s apartment, squeezes his hand from time to time as Derek tells him about everything.

“You could have told me.” Stiles notes.

“I don’t know why I didn’t.” Derek confesses. “I guess I didn’t want you to see me as that guy too. Beefy Derek.” He laughs, humorless. “That’s the nickname my sister came up with a few months ago.”

Stiles groans, stops walking, forcing Derek to stop as well. “You are so much more than that.” He assures, touching Derek’s face softly though his eyes shine with certainty. “I love your brain, your cute jokes, the fact that you get my stupid history facts because you like history just as much as I do, and especially the way you care so much. College, people, the world.” He pulls him in for a quick, assertive kiss, and Derek immediately feels so light he could fly. But he won’t, because Stiles is keeping him grounded by the softest touch, the smallest smile.

“Cute jokes?” He manages to ask, arching an eyebrow. When Stiles laughs, he smiles.

“They are.” He insists.

“Okay.” Derek accepts the words easily, because everything seems easy when it comes to Stiles. “If I ask you out on a new date,” he says, “will Lydia pepper spray me?”

“I will stop her.” Stiles reassures, squeezing his hand again. “But before,” he adds and Derek feels his stomach turning with anticipation, “you have to know that I kind of hate your sister right now.”

“Oh.” Derek says. “Okay, I can—I can see that.”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles says, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Me too.” Derek agrees.

-

When Derek tells him about Cora’s apology and the earful his sister got from their mom, Stiles excuses himself to go laugh in the bathroom while Derek shrugs and goes back to eating his share of the pizza.

By the time they get married, Stiles and Cora have become best friends. Derek hates it (he doesn’t).

[imnotevenhere9]

If you're still doing Matchups, could I please get one for Lotr and The Hobbit please? Thanks so much!

🌱 She/They Nonbinary // Bisexual // Autistic and Chronically Ill with a bonus Anxiety Disorder // 18 years old at the moment

🌱 I know a lot of Home Remedies and Superstitions for like no reason. For instance, did you know that Raspberry Tea helps with Menstrual Pain, or that knocking on wood invokes the protection of the tree spirit and that’s why it’s said to give you luck? I don’t know why I know that, but I do.

🌱 Winning a fight is on my bucket list, but it has to be for a good reason. I’m not one to just pick fights for the sake of fighting, and I’m actually pretty conflict-averse, so I need to actually have a solid reason for throwing hands. But I’ve always wanted to do it for some reason.

🌱 I often get the inexplicable urge to bake something, so my loved ones just kinda end up with surprise brownies and zucchini bread at random. This habit has only worsened over Quarantine, of course.

🌱 I really like studying Witchcraft for some reason. The first spell I ever performed was a Healing Spell to help my friend who was sick with Crohn's Disease. Thirty minutes after performing the ritual, I got a text saying he felt a lot better and he was released from the hospital a couple days later, so I guess it must’ve worked. 😁

🌱 My love language is definitely gift giving. I’m pretty cheap, but I’m also an artist, so when push comes to shove I’ll just make something for someone when I like them. I pay very close attention to what people like because it gives me more ideas on how to interact with them. I’m essentially a large, flightless Crow. You were nice, so you get something shiny. But though I like giving gifts to others, I’m not very materialistic at all. I prefer to be practical when it comes to things, and I get very nervous when spending money.

🌱 I LOVE going outside and getting messy. Playing in the mud, getting soaked in the rain, I’m the type to go outside and come back home covered in dirt and twigs. It’s just really fun to me.

🌱My Dad’s a really good cook and I seem to have inherited that gene. He actually has me make dinner whenever we’re having eggs because I always cook them better than he does.

🌱 I’ve always wanted to be a really good gardener. My dream house is just covered in flowers and plants and such. I want to live in a Greenhouse, basically.

🌱 I have a habit of giggling to myself just by remembering something funny that happened, even if it was a couple years ago. I also laugh when I do something stupid, because I find my flaws and shortcomings funny for the most part. I love to laugh with people, but never at them.

🌱 You know the sort of “Girl Next Door” trope? That’s my type. Like the guy in the dorm just down the hall, or the girl in my neighborhood who I casually flirt with. I’m a sucker for cute little interactions like that, so it’s not too much of a surprise that I always fall for people like that. I never forget people I meet on the road, and often find myself hoping to meet up with them again someday.

🌱 I know way too much about Spirits and Fae. My favorite book is called ‘The Encyclopedia of Spirits’ and it shows you how to contact and interact with a ton of different deities and spirits, and I’m addicted to reading it. It’s the best.

🌱 I’m basically like a tiny, less-impressive Aragorn. I love travelling on foot, getting messy outside, I was kind of a Horse Girl as a kid ngl, I’ve always wanted to be a knight or king of some sort, chances are that I haven’t bathed in awhile, and I too would pine for a hot elf girl for literal years on end.

🌱 I always have to have some sort of weight on me to feel comfortable, because of my Autism. That usually takes the form of a large backpack stuffed with books and snacks, or a big jacket. However, my muscles are always pretty stiff and achy, so that does kinda backfire too.

🌱My closest friends say I give off “Dwobbit” vibes. That’s a ½ Dwarf and ½ Hobbit btw. I’m around 4’ 10” tall, I don’t shave, I love crafting and art, I live in the Mountains, I’m tomboyish but I also love gardening and can be a bit of a homebody, I love going barefoot, etc.

🌱 I really love History, Folklore, Mythology and Fairy Tales. My favorite is the Irish myth of Oisín in Tir Na Nog. Look it up if you don’t know it, it’s a fantastic story. But I also appreciate myths from all sorts of different cultures, like the myth of Annapurna in India or the tale of Princess Kaguya in Japan. Did you know that in Mesopotamian Mythology, Nonbinary People were said to be given the gift of prophecy and magic by the goddess Ishtar? And that a recurring figure in Slavic Folklore is the Snake King, who’s just a big ol’ snake with a doofy looking crown? I love it.

🌱 I’m an Aquarius, INFP and 4w5 if that means anything. For reference, characters who are also 4w5 INFPs include Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice), Wirt (Otgw), Frankenstein’s Monster, Luna Lovegood (HP), Napstablook (Undertale), The Phantom of the Opera, and Celeste from Animal Crossing. That kinda tells you a lot about me, doesn’t it?

🌱 I’ve been growing my hair out, so it’s getting pretty long too. It’s always messy, and I both use a lot of conditioner and it naturally curls when wet, so I basically end up having a very fluffy mane with a lot of stray hairs and weird curls. Also, fun fact, I never learned how to braid because I’ve only really made friends with boys and I have very poor hand-eye coordination when it comes to such things. And my hair is so thin and fluffy that it’s impossible to tame anyways, so the best I can do is put it in a ponytail, since I’m basically incapable of doing anything fancier than that. When worst comes to worse, I have plenty of hats though.

🌱 I have really pale skin that’s always covered in moles, freckles (especially on my arms) and lots of scabs. It’s also getting warmer out, so chances are that I have a farmer’s tan. I have blue eyes and glasses.

🌱 I have a habit of seeing shadows move out of the corners of my eyes, frequently mistaking them for people or animals, but when I turn to look there’s nothing there. I’ve gotten my eyesight checked multiple times, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary, so it’s either a lack of sleep, or the Fae are getting antsy with me. Probably the former of course, but part of me would like to believe the

Oof, sorry that description was so long! I really hope you don't mind. Thanks so much in advance!!

A/n: I made it really wholesome (at least in my eyes), so I hope you like it! ^_^

Masterlist • Prompts • S/o match ups • Taglist

S/o from The Hobbit: Kili! 

will take your hands and kiss all the moles and freckles when you two are alone

listens to you talking about Fairy Tales while hugging you from behind and plays with your hair

likes to fall asleep with you on his chest, so he can plent small kisses on your head

loves everything you bake, it doesn’t matter if he heard of it or not, he always gets so excited to try what you baked

gives the best massages. He will prepare a bubble bath, help you stretch, whatever makes your achy muscles hurt less

small peaks behind your shoulder when you're

S/o from LOTR: Arwen!

adores your hair. Like literally. She loves to braid them, brush them, run her fingers through them, basically everything you can think of

please share everything you know and learnes about Home Remedies and Superstitions. She loves listening to you talk, it doesn't matter if she already knows all of it, she just wants to listen to you talk about it

your random giggles? In her eyes the cutest thing ever. Just hearing you giggling brightens her day so much

will probably go outside and get messy with you, because she loves to see you happy

gets shy when you give her gifts, she loves them all so much tho

will get you different books about Witchcraft, so you can learn and practice more!

[scarletwidowvibes]

A Selkies’ Coat

Malia x Selkie!Reader

A/N: So I’m like kind of twisting the selkie lore, I’m going with the Selkie!Reader is just like hanging out on land and has their seal-skin like over the side of their chair and then it falls or something and Malia picks it up and then the reader is like “Ope you’re my true love” Definitely saw a post about this so I’ve taken inspiration from that but I’m not sure who the original poster is so credits to them for the idea. 

“Lydia we don’t have time for a coffee run, we have to meet up with the pack.” Malia says, following Lydia into a coffee shop.

“Malia,” Lydia deadpans, “there is always time for coffee.” 

Malia rolls her eyes but accepts Lydia’s offer and orders a coffee for herself while Lydia orders for herself and the rest of the pack. While they wait for their order Malia watches as one person gets up from their seat and leaves the shop, leaving their coat hanging on the chair. 

“Malia?” Lydia asks, picking up the drinks. Malia picks up the forgotten coat and follows the person out of the coffee shop. 

“Hey!” Malia yells, catching up to the person quickly. 

“Hey.” The person says, scrunching their eyebrows in confusion.

“You forgot this at the coffee shop.” Malia says with a smile, giving the person their coat back. 

“Oh,” The person says, staring at the coat in Malia’s hands, “thank you.”

“Yeah no problem.” Malia says with a shrug. The person in front of her takes their coat back, their face turning bright red. The person smiles then turns and rushes away from Malia, clutching their coat tightly. 

“Malia,” Lydia sighs, balancing all of the drinks on her arms, “why did you run out like that?”

“Sorry,” Malia replies, taking some of the cups from Lydia, “someone forgot their coat so I brought it to them.”

“Okay, well we’re a little later than planned so let’s go.” Lydia says, ushering Malia towards her car. Malia throws one more glance over her shoulder but the person she met is gone. 

~~~ 

“Sorry we’re late, but we brought drinks.” Lydia says, walking into Scott’s house and handing the drinks out to the pack. 

“What took you so long?” Stiles asks, taking his drink from Lydia.

“Malia met someone.” Lydia says, taking a seat next to Stiles. Everyone looks to her for more explanation but she just shrugs. 

“Somone left their coat so I brought it to them.” Malia says, sitting down next to Kira. 

“It was a cute coat, a nice grey color.” Lydia comments. Malia nods in agreement and then the topic is changed.

~~~

Malia smelt the farmilar scent of the ocean before she saw the person from before. She scanned the hall but there was no trace of them.

“Malia?” Kira asks, watching as Malia’s eyes dance over the hall.

“Do you smell that?” Malia asks, turning to face Kira and Scott. They both shake their heads, staring at Malia. 

The smell grows fainter and fainter and disappears completely when the bell rings and breaks Malia’s concentration. She shakes her head, adjusts the books in her arms and leaves for class, leaving Kira and Scott behind.

“I smelt the person again.” Malia says when she bumps into Lydia on her way to class.

“The person?” Lydia asks, walking beside Malia through the halls. 

“The coat person from the coffee shop.” Malia explains.

“Do you smell them now?” Lydia asks slowly. Malia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath but the scent is gone now. She shakes her head,

“No, they’re not around anymore.”

“I wonder if they’re a student here.” Lydia says, holding the door open for Malia. Malia nods and walks into the classroom, Lydia following behind her. 

~~~

Derek is waiting outside the school when the pack gets out. He stands out with his scowl, which Stiles comments on. While listening to Derek talk about a pack meeting at his place Malia picks up the ocean scent again. 

“They’re here.” She whispers to Lydia, looking around the school parking lot.

“Who’s here?” Derek asks, causing Malia to once again lose focus. 

“Malia met someone at the coffee shop, brought them their coat, and now she’s smelling them.” Lydia says, folding her arms across her chest. 

“They smell like the ocean.” Malia states, looking around again. 

“Is that them?” Derek asks, pointing directly at the person from the coffee shop.

“Actually yes.” Lydia says, staring at the person who’s just leaving the school with the grey coat wrapped around them. 

The person feels the eyes of the entire pack and snaps their head in the direction the stares are coming from. They avert their eyes and leave in a rush once they make eye contact with Malia. 

“Well doesn’t seem like they like you very much.” Liam comments, watching the person leave.

“A selkie,” Derek says, continuing when the pack all stare at him for answers, “someone with a greyish looking coat that they keep very close at all times, they smell like the ocean, and they get shy around the person who gives their coat back.”

“Why do they get shy?” Scott asks.

“Because when you give a selkie their coat back,” Derek takes a pause, “you’re labled as their true love.”

“So why did they leave their coat at the coffee shop?” Malia asks, ignoring everyones stares. 

“I guess they must be a forgetful selkie,” Derek shrugs, “it can happen.”

“So Malia is their true love, what does that mean for her?” Stiles asks.

“Well under these circumstances I think the selkie is embarassed about the fact that they left their coat and now they don’t want to pressure Malia into thinking she has to be their true love so they’re avoiding her.” Lydia says.

“Just a guess.” She continues when everyone stares at her. 

“So what should Malia do?” Kira asks.

“I think that’s up to me,” Malia cuts in, “and my plan is to go talk to them.” 

“Do you want one of us to go with you?” Lydia asks, “you can be a little... bold.”

“No, if I’m their true love then I should get to know them one-on-one.” Malia says.

“That’s a very... responsible way to look at the situation.” Stiles says.

“Okay,” Lydia cuts in, “Malia call your dad and tell him you’ll be staying at my house tonght, Kira you do the same, we’re going to do some research.” 

Malia and Kira shrug, pulling their phones out and following Lydia to her car. 

~~~

The next day, after a lot of research, Malia, Kira, and Lydia all walk into school. Stiles and Scott meet up with the three girls at the enterance.

“So what did you learn?” Scott asks.

“Well the coat is actually their seal coat that they take off when they come on land and they need their coat to go back into the water.” Malia explains.

“That explains why they were so happy when you gave their coat back.” Scott says.

“Yeah, so I guess my next step is to approach them.” Malia says, looking around the school.

“Be... delicate.” Stiles says before leaving for class. Scott pats Malias shoulder then follows Stiles to class.

“Let’s try and find them during lunch.” Lydia says, glancing around the school then leaving for her only class of the day.

“Come on Malia.” Kira says, leading Malia to class.

Malia spends her whole time in class waiting for lunch to come. Her leg bounces the entire time, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by those around her.

Finally the lunch bell rings and Malia hurries out of the classroom. She tries to catch the selkies’ scent but Stiles interrupts her focus.

“Stiles, I’m trying to find my true love.” Malia says with a frown.

“Yeah but they’re most likely going to be in the lunchroom right?” Stiles asks as he leads Malia to the lunch room.

As they pass the front doors of the school Malia catches the oceanic scent of the selkie.

“Stiles, they’re outside,” she says, stopping in front of the school doors, “you go to lunch.”

She doesn’t wait for Stiles’ answer, just leaves the school, looking for the selkie. She scans the front of the school and finds them sitting under a tree.

“Hey,” Malia says, standing next to the selkie, “I’m Malia, and before you run off. I know about the coat.”

“I’m sorry!” The selkie says, covering their face with their hands, “I’m sorry, my name is Y/n and I’m always forgetting my coat and I didn’t mean to tie you to me.”

“It’s okay,” Malia says, “I’d like to get to know you better, if that’s okay.”

Y/n looks at her with a little shock before responding, “yeah, yeah that’s okay.”

Malia smiles at the nervous selkie and gestures to the ground next to them,

“Can I sit there?”

“Yeah you can sit here.” They respond, moving over a little so Malia has more room.

Malia sits and wraps her arms around herself, shivering slightly at the cool breeze.

“I’m always cold, I’m a werecoyote who used to be a coyote but ever since I was turned back into a human I’ve always been cold,” Malia explains, “I used to have a fur coat.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Y/n says slowly, “here you can use my coat”

They grab their seal coat from their bag and hand it to Malia, who looks at them with astonishment.

“Normally selkies don’t just give their coats to someone.” Malia says, remembering what she had learned from her research.

“Yeah but you’ve already given my coat back to me before, besides I think you can keep a closer eye on it than I can.” Y/n says which makes Malia laugh.

“Yeah, you seem pretty forgetful.” Malia mentions.

“I forget literally everything,” Y/n replies, showing Malia a book which has a list of things in it, “this is a list of what I brought today, I constantly need to check it so I don’t forget anything.”

“Well maybe I can help you keep track of your things.” Malia says, turning to face Y/n who’s smiling at her.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” They say, resting their head on their knees and looking back at Malia,

“I think that coat really suits you.” They say.

“You know I was just thinking the same thing.” Malia says, looking at the sleeves of Y/n’s coat.

Y/n pulls some food out of their backpack, offering some to Malia, “we should eat before class starts.”

“Yeah speaking of class, what are you doing in Beacon Hills? Like is there a specific reason, are you just visiting, or do you plan on staying a while?” Malia asks, taking the half that Y/n offers.

“Well I was planning on just visiting,” Y/n says, unwrapping their food, “but now I have a reason to stay.”

[suchalonelysunflower]

“A Great Place to Start a New Story” (m.c)

Pairing: Michael Clifford X Reader 

Summary: Michael is at his best friend wedding feeling lonely when a stranger comes up to him and gives him one of the best advices he’s ever heard. 

Warnings: None other than mentions of Alcohol, a few bad words and mentios of death. Also, some grammar mistakes (Not as many as before but still, English is not my first language, I’m sorry) 

Word Count: 2.5 K 

Author’s Note: Hello! Here you have another soft Michael fic with a neutral reader, I’ve been trying to incorporate that more into my writing lately so if you have any suggestions please don’t doubt in contacting me 😊 If you want to read more of 5SOS you can visit my recent Ashton fic, Luke fic and the second part of the Entangled Series ft. Calum and Harry S ✨ You can find the rest of my work HERE. Thank you so much, remember that reblogs, comments and feedback are always welcome! I love to hear from you guys 💕 Hope you like it and Happy reading 🦋💕

Michael swore that if he sees one more happy couple coming his way he was going to break something, a thing that was easier said than done, considering that he was at the wedding reception of his best friend and he would probably have to pay for it afterwards.

He watched bitterly as the couples slowly danced a few feet in front of him, swaying along to some love song he’s never heard of. In the middle of the crowd he could easily spot Luke and his partner, holding each other tightly as they dance like there’s nobody else in the room, this was their moment, the beginning of a new chapter in their lives and Michael was happy for them. But he couldn’t deny that hint of jealousy that tugged on his heart.

Falling in love was not a top priority for him. Yes, it is nice to have someone to care about and for them to care about you, but with his busy life he always felt like he didn’t have the time to actually care about that part of his life, ignoring it most of the time. Only when the RSVP to Luke’s wedding came in the mail did he realize how lonely he actually felt. A sense of longing came over him, He thought that by now he would’ve met the person he was going to spend the rest of his life with. His better half, soulmate or whatever, but it seems that is just not meant to be for him. And it’s not like he hasn’t fallen in love at some point, he had a few relationships over the years, but they always ended the same way: Either a heartbreak or a song written about him.

Michael sighed deeply, bringing his glass to his lips only to find in discontent that it was already empty. He cursed through gritted teeth and slammed the glass on the table with more force than he intended to. 

“Tough night?” Asked a voice next to him. 

Michael turned his head to the side and found an old lady sitting next to him. He didn’t notice her at first, or at all to be honest. He knew, however, that she was not at the table when they first sat down, so he assumed she just made herself a place when her friends were out dancing with their partners not too far away. 

The lady seemed nice enough, very elegant for an evening wedding. She had some pearl earrings that matched her necklace, and for the looks of it, they were completely real. Her hair was pinned up with too much hairspray and her eyeshadow was very bright. She wore a nice navy dress embroidered with patches of lace that seemed out of date but she wore it in such a fashionable way that you wouldn’t even question it. 

She smiled at Michael and looked at him up and down “You are not in love with one pair of the couple, now are you blondie?” 

Michael’s mouth dropped with the lady’s remark. Part of him offended at such an assumption and the other just very impressed by the boldness of the mysterious old woman. 

“Oh, close your mouth, dear. Flies will go in there” Michael obeyed “So, are you?” 

“No!” Michael scoffed, rolling his eyes. Who was this lady? “I’m the best man, Luke’s bandmate” 

The woman hummed “Then why are you sitting here like it’s the great depression? Believe I know what that’s like, I lived through it” She said, even though she didn’t look a day over 70.

Michael sighed “Not a big fan of weddings, I guess” He stated, looking at his empty glass. 

“Is it that or you’re just not a fan of love in general?” She inquired. Michael averted his gaze on purpose, wondering why the hell was he still talking to this person?

“You know,” Said the lady after a few moments of silence “Weddings are a great place to start a story” 

“Huh?” Michael mumbled. 

“A lot of great stories came from weddings” She smiled “Plus, it is a great place to meet new single people” She said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. Michael cocked an eyebrow to her in response “Anyone caught your eye?” 

He shook his head “Wasn’t really looking” 

“Ah, but that’s how you find them” She placed her hand over MIchael’s. The wrinkled, yet soft hand patted his in a kind way, and for him it was an act of comfort he didn’t know he needed “But, what could I know? I’m just an old lady in the middle of a party” Michael opened his mouth to say something but she interrupted him again “Don’t you think it’s time to fill up that bad boy again?” She said, pointing to his empty glass and then the open bar. 

Michael sighed again, looked at the old lady and nodded, already getting up and making his way to the bar. 

He leaned his elbows into the bar, thoughts running through his head trying to understand what the woman just said. Was it so obvious how unhappy he was with his loneliness? or is it just a custom for old ladies to get all up in your business when you are a complete stranger to them? 

He placed his thumb and index fingers between his eyes, trying to let the frustrations go and actually enjoy the party and celebrate his best friends’ love. But, then again, it was easier said than done. 

“A whisky on the rocks, please” A voice said next to him, making him snap his head to his side. 

You were standing there, looking absolutely done with life as you ordered your drink. You had one arm resting on the bad while the other went to the back of your head, rubbing your neck as you stretched it from side to side. Tilting your head to the side you catch Michael’s stare, you glared.

“What?” You asked in a sarcastic chuckle “Think is too early for a heavy drink?” 

Michael blinked a few times, surprised by the sound of your voice directed at him “Uh, no, actually. I was just about to get the same thing” 

Michael signaled the bartender and they nodded. You sighed, relaxing a little bit more around him. 

“Fun party, isn’t it?” You asked. 

Michael scoffed “Depends on who you’re asking” He said, pointing to the couples dancing in the middle of the room. 

You laughed “Oh, seems like someone here shares my kind of humor” You turned to him, extending your hand to greet him properly “I’m Y/N.”

He shook your hand and smiled “Michael” 

“You’re Luke’s bandmate, are you?” 

“I am, and you are..?” He inquired. 

“Oh, I’m here for the other side of the wedding party. Didn’t really know Luke very well until he put a ring on my cousin’s finger” Michael chuckled and you did too “They are truly in love, aren’t they?” You said, looking at the happy couple.

The bartender placed your drinks on the bar and walked away. Michael nodded as he grabbed his glass and took a sip of the burning beverage “Only a fool would think otherwise. You should’ve seen Luke when he first got the ring. I’ve never seen him so happy before” 

You hummed “Yeah,” You took a sip of your drink and looked at Michael “What about you, rockstar?” Michael smiled into his drink at the sound of the nickname “Is there a special someone in your life?” 

Michael shook his head “Not really the best at finding love, apparently. Given that I’m the only single person in the room” He said, bitterly. 

“Well, not the only one” You said, lifting your drink so you could clinked your glass with his. You both laughed. 

The conversation between you two went smoothly as you get to know each other better. Michael was actually surprised that you indeed shared a lot of things in common besides your sense of humor and relationship status. You talked about music, video games you played, the annoyance you both shared towards certain people and even finding out that you were both the class clown that was a little too shy to become the main troublemaker in school.

You talked all night. You mentioned things about your passions and your career and Michael listened with actual interest to the whole thing, even asking some questions about it, making you smile and ramble on and on about them, and he really seemed to like the way your eyes shined whenever they met his. Michael shared with you details about what is really like living as a musician, touring and the interactions they had with fans, stating how it was amazing but at the same time very draining and consuming. 

“Guess that’s why I don’t find myself in situations where I can actually meet people and go out on dates or whatever” 

“Well, that didn’t seem like a problem to your friends over there” You said, pointing out at his bandmates “What’s holding you back?” 

Michael looked at you, suddenly aware of your close proximity. He didn’t know when it happened that your arm was so close to his that they were almost touching, but he didn’t mind one bit. 

“Maybe love is just not a fan of me, contrary at what that lady said” You looked at him quizzically and he just chuckled at your confused expression “There was this old lady who came up to me and asked me if I was afraid of love and then started to tell me about how ‘weddings are the best place to meet people and start new stories” He said, trying to imitate the lady’s voice.  

You laughed “Ah, it seems to me that you met Aunt Lydia” 

“You know her?” 

“Yes! She’s actually our great aunt, and don’t worry, she does that every time we are at a wedding.” You chuckled “She thinks that because she met her husband at a wedding that everyone would do the same” 

You laughed again and, seemingly in that instant, Michael decided he wanted to hear more of that laugh “Well, maybe she’s not wrong” He said, making you blush. He decided he liked that.

“Hey, Y/N?” He asked, suddenly very shy.

“Yes, rockstar?” 

“Wanna dance?” 

Michael extended his hand as an invitation, a dashing smile crossing his face with ease as you took it and let him guide you to the dance floor. 

The rest of the group was surprised to see Michael dancing, given that he was never one of the ‘life of the party’ kinda guy. But when they saw him smiling at you while attempting to slow dance, they just knew. 

You danced together until your feet practically begged you for some kind of break, making your way outside of the venue so you could sit on one of the few benches they had in the patio. You rested your head on Michael’s shoulder, not really saying much as you both looked at the sky. 

This was not the outcome Michael would have expected from tonight, however he didn’t find it so terrible or scary. He only met you a few hours ago, but something inside him was telling him that you needed to be part of his life. This felt right, so right even that he didn’t want to let go of you just yet. 

“I had fun” You said, breaking the silence after a while. 

“Me too” Michael said, softly grabbing your hand and starting to play with your fingers “Kinda don’t want it to end” 

You hummed, tilting your head so you could look him in the eyes “Then don’t let it end” 

Michael’s green eyes were set on yours, noses almost brushing as you came closer and closer, taking each other’s faces from this new angle. Michael’s hand rested softly on your cheek, cupping it as his eyes traveled from your lips to your gaze. 

“How will I know that this is not a dream and you will not disappear when I open my eyes?” He said in a hushed tone, forehead resting against yours. 

“Kiss me and you’ll find out” You whispered back. Holding your breath as he brought you into a kiss. 

Everything felt just right. 

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

The quiet boy stared at the happy couples with jealousy. Weddings were never his thing but he couldn’t miss his sister’s wedding, even if he wanted to. 

He sighed deeply into his drink as he thought love was playing him a cruel joke, him being the only single person within a five mile ratio. 

“What’s with the face, Robert?” Asked a voice behind him. 

“Oh, hey uncle Mike” The young man said, not really knowing when his uncle came and sat next to him “Guess I’m just not in the mood” 

Michael hummed, raising his hairy eyebrows and drawing even more wrinkles in his forehead “Feeling like love is not for you then” 

Robert looked at him confused “How do you-”

“I was once young and stupid you know? Just like you,” Robert rolled his eyes “Hey, I’m trying to teach you something here, boy”

“Sorry”

“I also thought that love was not for me and I found myself in your same position, in your grandpa’s wedding feeling absolutely miserable” Michael’s eyes gleamed at the memory, a smile spreading on his face “And then I met the love of my life not even ten minutes later” 

Michael still remembers that night like it was yesterday, even though it happened around fifty years ago. He remembers what you were wearing and the jokes that made you laugh. He still knows all the words to the songs you danced since that night, never passing a chance to slow dance with you or to give you the love and appreciation that you needed. He found out what you liked the most and what you hated, slowly learning to become one team of two individuals, but to be honest, he knew he was yours the moment he kissed you that night, thanking your great aunt every passing moment of his life, especially the night where he proposed. The sound of you saying yes through a teary smile still brings him all the joy he could ever need. 

The years he had next to you were the best years of his life. He felt blessed to have been able to enjoy all those moments by your side, keeping his promise of loving you and making you happy until your last day on earth. Whenever he thought of you after the day you left, sadness does not cloud his mind like before. You were his partner, his soulmate and he will always remember how bright you were in every single aspect, your memory brought him the comfort he needed, knowing you were waiting for him and that right now you were watching over him with a grin on your face, knowing exactly what he was about to say next. 

“And, who knows? After all, weddings are a great place to start a new story”

[gongju-juice]

3. Once Upon a Southern Night

Something Old, Something New

Warnings: Some racial tension. . .also might be some language but I can’t remember tbh

The thing about change is that it’s just that—change. You can change something, twist it, mold it, or turn it into whatever you wish for it to look like, but you cannot ever get rid of its original identity. 

Living in Forks was no short of that. Life was a blessing, and your days were filled with laughter and excitement. Beginning your senior year—Jasper had graduated—but the two of you were dating and closer than you’d ever been. He took you on dates to see the stars and bought you flowers and little trinkets to brighten your day. You read books in his lap and went on double dates with Amelia and her boyfriend, Stuart. 

You knew something was strange about your family—so much so that your mother’s weirdness no longer seemed so personalized. Maybe it was the fact they never ate around you, or maybe it’s the account of their golden eyes. And like your mother (and everyone else, frankly), your boyfriend was so inhumanly cold, like a Roman statue left in an icy museum.

But what did you look like asking such crazy questions? After all, what else could it be but coincidence? As for your mom and Carlisle, they were siblings—it was normal for them to share the same traits. But as for the others—Rosalie and Jasper were twins—and although they were different personality wise, they both had the same pale skin and bronze colored eyes. Maybe the old saying is true: living together with someone really does make you look alike.

One day while your family all hung out at the Cullen house, you received a letter in the mail. It was a bright, shimmering white envelope with fancy lace trimming. You opened it carefully—sure not to cut yourself so as to not to trigger Jasper’s weird paranoia around blood. 

“Oh my god!” you shouted, running into the living room. You looked at your mom. “Ivy and Dale are getting hitched!”

“Wow, Ivy?” she said. “I remember the two of you growing up like it was yesterday. When’s the date?”

“March 5. It’s going to take place on Dale’s parents’ farm. The reception’s going to be in the big barn house!”

You whirled in excitement, only to dizzy yourself into Jasper’s arms when you realized you’d fallen. He brushed a stray curl from your face.

“A wedding?” he said. “I thought Ivy was only seventeen.”

“You can get married in Alabama at sixteen with parental consent. I’m sure the Lauderdales were thrilled to hear of the good news. Dale has been hanging ‘round since we were six.”

You popped back onto the floor. “I’ve gotta find a dress and everything! Oh wait—I should call and see if we’re doing matching dresses or if we’re all gonna be wearing different ones.”

You picked up your phone and raced to the kitchen where you could find some privacy and feel free to freak out some more. She picked up on the third ring.

“Lucille!” you cried, “I can’t believe it’s finally happening! Please send me a picture of the ring ASAP, okay?”

She giggled. “It’s not a big deal, Y/N. We’ve been engaged since we were twelve. It’s just that now we’ve got that ice and permission to prove it.”

The phone buzzed and you looked at the image of the triple diamond ring which had a band of diamonds all around. You recognized that ring. It was Dale’s grandmother’s sacred family heirloom, the one that’s been locked up tight in their security safe. He only let you and her see it once when you were both thirteen and his parents were out in the field.

“I’m so excited for the bachelorette party!” you gushed. “We’re going to have so much fun! We should go to Pensacola and go to one of them spa places and then we can—”

“Y/N,” she said quietly, cutting you off entirely. “You’re not on the bridesmaids list.”

You were quiet, your flailing arms caught in mid air. “I’m not. . .but you said—”

“I’m sorry, girl, but Mama already chose who's going to be in my wedding. There’s 

Charlotte, Mary, Clarabelle, and Lydia. . .the ones I grew up with.”

“But. . .what about me? Didn’t. . .didn’t we grow up together?”

“Yeah, but. . .it’s just not the same, you know? Those people are family. You can still come to the wedding, of course. That’s why I sent the invitation.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel hurt. Here was your best friend telling you that you couldn’t be in the wedding. Mrs. Lauderdale. . .you thought she really liked you. Was it because you moved up north?”

“Oh, alright then. I was just—just calling to confirm the date. March 5, right?”

“Yeah, March 5.”

You hung up the phone and sighed at the counter, your head hung down. Just then, Jasper came walking in. He came up behind you and held you in place, his head resting on your shoulder. Suddenly, your mood improved instantly. But that was the thing about Jasper—he was always brightening your day when you felt down. It was part of the reason you adored him.

“You okay?” he whispered. “You know you don’t got to go to that wedding?”

You shook your head. “Of course I do. It’s my best friend’s wedding. How could I miss her big day? Besides. . .how did you even know I was sad?”

He stiffened. “I. . .uh. . .heard the conversation in the hallway.”

“Oh, well I guess that makes sense.”

He held you for a while against the hard granite. 

“Jasper?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Will you be my date to the wedding?”

“Absolutely.”

Rosalie was the one officially in charge in helping you pick your dress. Alice had a vengeful streak and wanted you to wear a big, white gown that would take all the attention away from Ivy.

“It’s wayyyy too hot in the south for that,” you pleaded, “and I ain’t trying to cause no trouble! It’s her Mama who did it, not Ivy.”

“She should’ve overridden that stupid decision then,” Alice continued, braiding your hair. It was still funny to know that the tiny pixie girl knew how to do a full-set of box braids. “If it was my wedding—”

“But it isn’t your wedding,” Rosalie insisted. “And Ivy isn’t your friend. Now like I was saying, Y/N, this little yellow sundress would look so cute with your skin tone. . .”

They even hooked up Jasper. They got him a nice cornflower blue dress shirt and a cream colored suit. Emmett even put on a whole show of picking his hairstyle, and even though they went through all that progress and hard work, you kindly reminded them that a heat wave was coming the weekend of the wedding and that it was best just to leave his curls the way they were. Jasper did not take kindly to his brother after that.

“Why don’t you come with us?” you asked your mom as she helped you pack the last of your luggage. “It’s gonna be so lonely with just me and Jasper. And besides, I’m sure everybody wants to see you!”

“No, no, I can’t. I’m scheduled for a surgery the day of the wedding. I can’t cancel it either. It’s a cancerous tumor that needs to be removed.”

You sighed, sitting up on your bed. “I can’t believe it’s here. She’s getting married, mom. We’re all going to be adults and pretty soon, if things go to according to plan, me and—” You cut yourself off as the overwhelming thought engulfed you.

“That’s right. You and Jasper will have your own wedding someday. . .speaking of which. . .we need to talk about the future.”

“The future?”

“Yes,” she sat on your bed. “There are some things you need to know before you set your eyes on your own big day. We’ll talk about that all soon, I promise. But as for now, go and enjoy yourself with Jasper. You’ll have him all to yourself. . .”

“Mom!” you shouted. “Jasper—he’s too sweet for that. He’s a real gentleman! It hasn’t even been that long ago since we had our first kiss, and he was scared to even do that!”

She raised her brows. “Hmmm, maybe that’s what he wanted you to think. But guys are never shy when it comes to that subject.”

The next day, your family wished you off at the airport. Jasper bought you first class tickets—a feat you deemed both extravagant and unnecessary—and you slept on his shoulder for most of the way. 

Immediately, touching down in your home state, everything felt so different. It was humid and hot; the type of sticky that makes your hair stick to the back of your neck, and people were so much more cordial then they were back at Forks. Some gave Jasper strange looks as he wound his fingers with yours, but again, nobody was unpleasant.

You would be staying at a hotel about thirty miles out from the country. There were, thankfully, two queen sized beds parallel to one another in the tiny room. But Jasper insisted sleeping in the living room part where a half wall separated the two of you.

On the big day, your boyfriend pulled out an authentic cowboy hat (the likes you’d never seen before), and the two of you headed down Ivy’s long dirt road. 

Fields of cotton and peas lined either side of the road, and for long stretches, there were no houses except the occasional large country home with animals and plots of cultivated land. The ditches teemed with life: jumping frogs, tadpoles, crawfish, and lillies. 

“Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been in the country,” he said. “This place isn’t much different from home.”

“Home? In Forks?”

“Rose and I—before we were adopted—used to live in Texas.”

“Really? That explains your accent! I just thought you watched too many western flicks. Oh, but why doesn’t Rosalie have one?”

“Well, she just hides it, I guess.”

You arrived at the house. There was a trail of cars already parked in the grassy yard, and people made their way in their finest Sunday’s best to the row of chairs arranged in front of the big oak tree where the minister stood.

“Y/N!” one of your old childhood friends exclaimed when she saw you. She was dressed in a teal dress, and at her side was some unknown boy you hadn’t met. “It’s so good to see you!” She looked at your boyfriend. “And who’s this?”

“Jasper Hale, ma’am, I’m her date for the evening,” he answered, tipping his hat. The row of women waiting to greet you gushed at his manners, and dare you say, they checked him out so openly. You hugged his bicep tighter.

“Just for the evening or indefinitely?” she cooed.

“Indefinitely.”

You sat down in one of the middle rows, and watched in awe as the wedding processional came down the aisle. Ivy was dressed in a glittery dress and carried the largest bouquet of white roses you’d ever seen. Dale had tears in his eyes as he looked up at his bride. They were so perfect, so in love, it made your insides melt.

After the beautiful ceremony, the party moved the barn. The rafters were draped in lights and white ribbons and flower petals covered the ground. You chose a table nearest to one of the wooden walls and curled into Jasper’s side.

“You look so gorgeous,” he said, tucking a dandelion behind your ear. “You out-shined the bride, and you didn’t even have to wear that ridiculous dress Alice was trying to shove you in.”

“All of my girlfriends keep whispering about you. You’re the real star tonight. The best looking man in both Washington and Alabama.”

Just then, Mrs. Lauderdale approached your table.

“Y/N, how are you honey?” she asked as you hugged her plump form. As the mother of the bride, she was dressed in a simple white dress and rocked a crown of flowers in her hair.

“I’m wonderful. Have you met my boyfriend?” You allowed her to inspect Jasper as he offered a hand.

“My, my. What a fine young man,” she cried. “Who knew you could get such a catch?”

She pulled you off to the side, and although Jasper tried to follow, you insisted he stay behind.

“I hope you aren’t upset about the whole bridesmaid situation,” she said, patting your shoulder. “We wanted a small processional anyway—makes it so we can get to the food faster.”

You shook your head. “‘Course not. It was such a beautiful ceremony. And Ivy—she’s stunning,” you said as you admired her twirling form with her new husband.

“Well anyway, John and the guys want to see you. John?”

Mr. Lauderdale greeted you with a nod. “How’s it going?”

“All good here,” you answered enthusiastically. In all honesty, John and his friends intimidated you with their skeptical expressions and hawk-like eyes. It was obvious the men of the family didn’t like you as much as the girls did—and that was fine. You were here for Ivy, not them.

“You got yourself a white boy?” Vernon, Ivy’s brother, asked. “A Yankee?”

“Actually, Jasper’s a Texan. And yes, he’s white. But it isn’t weird or anything.”

Like he was in on the conversation, he smoothly slid in beside you, his cold hand wrapping around your waist.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said as he addressed the men. “I’m a Houston native, by the way. I was raised on a farm myself—had a chocolate brown mare named Buttercup and a field full of bulls.”

“Ah, really? That makes me even more surprised to see you here.”

“Pardon me?”

Vernon smirked. “Y’all go and enjoy yourselves.”

Jasper pulled you away from the barn with a little more determination than you thought was needed. He hadn’t looked nor spoken until the two of you were completely alone by the fence where the ponies ran.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly. “You seem upset.”

“It’s nothing. I didn’t like the way those boys were talking. Had to get outside and clear my mind.” He pulled you closer to his body, and his cool skin felt good in the heat of the night.

“Holding you like this makes me get so sentimental,” he admitted. “It makes me want to take you to the nearest courtyard and get official. It makes me want to buy you a hundred acres and a big, nice house by a river. It makes me want to give you a bunch of kids to keep us company, so we can grow old together and live happily ever after.”

“I like when you get sentimental,” you breathed.

“But,” he stopped, “that last part might not be able to happen. There’s something you should know about me���about our family before you decide to give your heart away.”

“What do you mean? What could possibly be so earth-shattering that it’d make me stop loving you?”

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, staring deeply into your eyes. His brows were creased, forehead wrinkled in thought. 

“Y/N, I wanted to wait to tell you, but I can’t stand lies. Most importantly, I don’t like to lie to you.”

“Just say it, baby.”

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness. 

It was a tall man, about the same height and build as Jasper, with bright crimson eyes and long dark hair tied back in a ponytail. He stared at you intensely before casting his burning gaze to Jasper.

“It’s been a long time, old friend,” he said darkly before inhaling deeply. “And it’s been even longer, Camille.”

And here the real story begins. Also I like cowboy Jasper playing with ponies maybe I’ll do a drabble on that.

Part One    Part Two   Part Four

[demonwifey]

hey, welcome to the fam!! was wondering if you could do a strong-willed, hot headed fem reader who doesn’t put up w/beej’s shit but as soon as he starts to really get hot and steamy with the flirting she goes completely weak and sub? (bonus of beej knows this and takes advantage of it during petty arguments)

Ayyy, I definitely appreciate the welcome! 💚💜🖤 This is my first ask so I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Cursing and sexual themes

Word count: 3,920 

Beetlejuice was a lot to handle. Everyone knows this. He was all too needy, flirty, and way too devious for his own good. It took a special kind of person to deal with the demon. While Beej’s favorite victims to terrorize were the Maitland/Deetz household, his attention shifted drastically when Y/N came into the picture.

Beej loved it when he could tease and pick on a person enough to put them in a flustered spur. The sound of someone being frazzled by his over the top flirting was his second favorite sound next to screaming in fear. Whether it was nose-poking, butt-grabbing, or his famous animated-ish grab and dip kisses, the demon would never hold back. 

   But see, you weren’t exactly an easy cookie to crumble. Although there were times that Beej’s shenanigans would get to you, you weren’t timid or shy. You actually stood up to Beetlejuice. Which ten times out of ten would completely shock him to the point of being surprisingly speechless. He was so used to getting his way and having everyone around him being apprehensive about his antics. But you were having none of it.

***

Beej knew you were a force to be reckoned with when he basically destroyed your bathroom. Since Beetlejuice was already dead he was always into the thrill of experiencing death multiple different ways (thinking about that part in the bootleg when Adam and Barbara said they wanted to cut off his head and Lydia deadass was like “You should…he’d love that”). You were sitting on the couch with your laptop looking up some new hair products your friends had mentioned to you. Having been focused on your screen you didn’t even realize your boyfriend was in the kitchen up to no good. Beej yanked the toaster’s cord out of the outlet and floated his way to your upstairs bathroom.

Not even 10 minutes later, the lights all around your apartment started to flicker and you heard a loud crackling sound coming from upstairs. Panic started to cloud up your head when you heard Beetlejuice yell in what sounded like pain and you immediately dashed up the stairs as quickly as you could. When you got to the bathroom, you were faced with the ultimate mess. 

Beetlejuice was sitting in the tub holding your, now smoking, toaster. His daily striped suit set was scattered on the bathroom floor. His entire body was black due to the burns and ash from the toasters burst while his already messy hair was scattered in different directions on his head. And to top it off your bathtub, which was originally white, was covered in nothing but black ash. You stood there in disbelief for a moment before running up to Beej who sat extremely still in the ruined tub. You crouched down next to the tub and gripped his shoulders. 

“Beej? Beej, look at me. Are you okay? Talk to me. Are you hurt?” You asked with clear worry in your voice. The demon man slowly turned his head towards you. Before you could register the fact that you asked these questions to a dead man, Beetlejuice let out a loud cackle while throwing his head back. 

“Hell yeah I’m okay, babes. That. Was. AWESOME. You’ve got to try it with me next time…well maybe not. You might actually die.” Beetlejuice went on his mixed tangent about not wanting you to die but also how much fun he just had being electrocuted because he was bored. You stared at the demon with your eyes slightly squinted before it all hit you at once and you went off. You stood up immediately with complete anger in your eyes and heat flowing through your body. 

“Beetlejuice. ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?” You screamed at the man in the tub. He looked up at you with his head cocked to the side. Before he could say anything, you spoke again. “YOU REALLY JUST…SAT HERE IN MY BATH TUB AND ELECTROCUTED YOURSELF FOR THE FUCK OF IT? BECAUSE YOUR WERE BORED? DO YOU NOT REALIZE HOW DANGEROUS THAT IS? OR HOW DANGEROUS IT COULD’VE BEEN?”

Complete and utter outrage filled your body as you hovered over Beetlejuice. He stood up from the tub and the water splashed around him and some onto you. He actually wasn’t completely naked as his lower half was covered by a pair of black and white boxers. He dropped the toaster back into the tub and held his hands up to his chest. 

“What? Babes, it’s fine. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m already dead. No harm, now foul.” He said smirking at you as if that was to make everything better. The young woman stared at him for a little longer, completely dumbfounded. She placed her hands to the sides of her face, trying to get her thoughts together. 

“Beej…I-. No harm? How the hell am I supposed to explain this to my landlord? Look at all of this! The tub is completely black and burned! And that was the new toaster my mom bought me a week ago!” You said gesturing to the disaster around him. He just looked around like a confused child, still not really grasping the reality of the situation. All you could do was let out a deep breath and run your hands over your face. Your mind scrambled with a million other things to say but you realized there was no point in wasting your breath.  

“Okay, you know that. Just get out of the tub.” You said as you moved to grab the toaster’s cord out of the outlet. After, you reached down to pick up his clothes and walked out of the bathroom. You heard the water splash as he got out and walked behind you. After you both were standing in your bedroom, you threw his clothes on your bed and turned towards him. You were already annoyed but the stupid smirk on his face made you even more agitated. 

“Well, babes. Had I known ruining your bathroom would’ve gotten me back into your bedroom, I would’ve done it a lot sooner.” He sauntered towards you with his hands upwards, as if getting ready to grab your breasts. Before he could get any further, you grabbed the towel off of your chair and threw it straight in his face. 

“Make jokes while you can, Beetlejuice.” You said with a heavy tone of exasperation in your voice. As he scrambled to remove the towel from his face, you moved past him to go back downstairs. He stared at the door as you exited, unsure of what was about to happen next. 

He dried himself off for a few minutes before putting his suit back on. Just as he finished tying his tie, you reappeared in the doorway holding a bucket full of what looked like cleaning supplies. Beej was confused before you lifted your hand and motioned him to follow you again. He did as told and you both were back in the messy room. You dropped the bucket on the floor with a loud thump and turned towards the demon. 

“Now, here’s what’s gonna happen. You and I are going to clean this bathroom and it is going to be spotless. Like nothing ever happened. Because if my landlord saw this, not only would she charge me a stupid expensive repair fee, I might actually get kicked out. So, you are gonna get on your knees,” You bent down to grab a large sponge and a bottle of tub cleaner before slamming it on his chest “And scrub the hell out of this tub like you’ve never scrubbed before. And if you so much as try to poof yourself away without helping, I will banish your ass in a heartbeat and you won’t see me for a good 3 weeks. Got it?” You commanded with utter authority and sternness in your voice. 

Without even needing to say it, Beej knew he couldn’t stand to not be around your for 3 minutes, let alone 3 weeks. And by the seriousness on your face, he knew you meant it. Nonetheless, Beetlejuice was shocked. No one had ever actually made him take responsibility for his actions, let alone LITERALLY make him clean up his own mess. To say the least the man was baffled, but intrigued. Beetlejuice just nodded his head quickly. You moved your hands away from him and bent down to grab your own materials. 

“Alright, bugboy. Let’s get to work.”

***

It had been weeks since that incident and you and Beetlejuice were back on good terms. The dead man actually ended up apologizing, which shocked you nonetheless. Of course he brought you a bouquet of dead roses, but that’s besides the point. It was still a sweet gesture that made you forgive him.

What he didn’t tell you is that he was completely turned on from the situation. You had put Beetlejuice in his place, and that wasn’t something he was used to. Ever since he met you you were headstrong and willing to take control. Most importantly, you weren’t willing to take his shit. And he loved that. 

Ever since that day, he did anything he could to get under your skin. Beetlejuice would burn your dinner multiple times a week, make too much noise while you were trying to sleep, or pick and poke at you while you were trying to get work done. Just anything and everything to make you snap and yell at him. Completely putting your dominant personality on display. Not to mention the way you took control with anger during sex drove him utterly wild. It was like finally seeing heaven for him. But after riling you up for weeks, he decided it was time for a change. 

While he absolutely adored your more assertive personality, he wanted to see it all come crashing down. He wanted to see that rage filled face to turn into a flustered one. He finally wanted to be the one in control. And he knew exactly what to do. 

One day Y/N came home from work completely spent. Tired, aggravated, and just plain annoyed. It was a complete case of the domino effect. The corporate bosses were frustrated about yet another thing and yelled at your supervisors. With that, your supervisors came back to yell at you and your coworkers about it. Everyone attempted to shift blame on one another, which led everyone in the office to be irritated with each other. It was a day from hell. 

Once you walked through the door, you kicked your heels off and threw your bag to the side. After hanging your jacket in the closet, you flopped yourself face down on the couch. You lay there for a good minute just needing some peace and quiet. Before you could even enjoy the moment, you felt a dip in the couch behind you. 

“Well hello to my favorite pair of sexy black lace panties.” You groaned quietly as you felt your demon boyfriend lift up your skirt and peak at your ass underneath. You reached behind and swatted his hand away. 

“God, Beej, not now. I just had the worst day at work.” You sighed out as you turned your body around to lay on your back and looked up to see his smiling face. Although Beej had been on your nerves for the past few weeks, the only thing that got you through the day was coming home to see his pale, goofy, smiling face. He reached down to grab your legs and placed them on his lap. Beej rubbed your thighs gently with his cold hand. 

“Finally ready to commit a work related homicide, dollface?” He asked, making his gritty voice quieter than usual. You let out another sigh. 

“Ugh, I’m seriously like an inch away from considering it. It’s like my bosses get their asses handed to them and then they come back to blow steam on us. It’s so stupid and frustrating.” You moved to sit up. “All I wanna do for the rest of the day is eat dinner and go the fuck to sleep.” 

“Yeah, no can do on that, babes.” Beetlejuice said with a smirk on his face as he continued to move his hands higher and higher on your lap. You narrowed your eyes at him, not really in the mood for any of his shenanigans at the moment. 

“And why is that?” You asked, already feeling your blood start to boil inside of you. Beetlejuice just continued to smirk without actually looking at you. 

“Because I~” His voice was starting to become more high pitched and you felt one of his hands already reach the top of your thigh under your skirt. “Mayormaynothavemadeahugemessinyourroomandyou’regonnahavetocleanitup.”

He spoke so quickly that you almost couldn’t understand what the hell he just said. Almost. You moved your legs off of his lap and looked directly in his eyes. 

“What kind of a mess?” You asked in the serious tone he was all too excited to hear. The demon shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. 

“Nothing too bad. Just me and the clones hung out. We watched some TV, played some board games, had some wrestling matches, had a big lunch date in your room. Oh! Can you believe we actually found a baby sandworm and watched it crawl up the walls?” By the time Beej had finished his sentence your eyes almost popped out of your head. You didn’t waste anymore time listening to him rant as you paced up the stairs to your room. You were met with a closed door and the fear of what was waiting behind it was all too real. You slowly put your hand on the door handle and twisted it slowly. 

Beej was still sitting on the couch feeling extremely proud of himself. It wouldn’t be long before-

3

2

1

“OH MY GOD BEETLEJUICE! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!” Right on the nose. The demon man lifted himself off the couch and strolled up to your room with satisfaction in his step. When he reached the doorway he saw you standing on the middle of the floor completely baffled, dumbfounded, and everything in between. 

To put it simply, your room was trashed. There was food and drink wasted everywhere. Your nearly organized bookshelf was emptied as each book was piled on the floor. Your bed was covered in shoe marks and crumbs from what looked like the last of the chips downstairs. Your comforter and sheets were all torn to shreds. Your closet door was open and most of your clothes were scattered everywhere. And just as you turned your head to the side, you immediately saw the sleeping baby sandworm in the corner. This was it. This was the day you were actually going to kill Beetlejuice, forget the fact that he was already dead. 

While your head scrambled for something to say, you looked over the said man in the doorway. Leaning on it with the biggest shit-eating grin you’d ever seen. You felt your mind become clouded with anger. You were ready to snap completely but before you did, you had to leave the room. You walked towards Beej, putting your man on his chest and pushing him out of the way. As he stepped backwards, you closed the door behind you. The two of your stood there for a second. You were trying your best to stay calm so you wouldn’t say something you regret. But, God, the stupid grin on his face was making it extremely difficult. 

“What…the fuck is your problem?” You gritted your teeth while saying. Beetlejuice cocked his head to the side. 

“What do ya mean, babes?” He asked in fake innocence. And that was the last straw. 

“I mean, why are you being such a dick?! For these last few weeks you’ve been doing nothing but irritate the hell out of me. First it was little petty stuff but now this?” You almost yelled gesturing towards your bedroom door. “Did I do something to you, Beej? Because this fucking ridiculous. AND THEN you have the nerve to say that I have to clean it up? Nope, fuck that. Get your ass downstairs, grab that cleaning stuff and fix my room!” You demanded with your usual dominant tone. You just expected Beetlejuice to follow suit like he always does. 

“No.” You were shocked, to say the least. You stared up at the man, expecting some kind of explanation. But his expression stayed at the same mischievous grin from before. You were about to completely lose it. 

“No? What the hell do you mean ‘no’?” You asked, frustration and anger leaking out more than ever.  

“I mean, I’m not gonna clean your room. That’s what I said, right?” At this point you could’ve sworn this was all a fever dream, it had to be. Your dead boyfriend just destroyed your room to hell and back, and is now denying to clean it. What was even happening?

“A-are you insane? You’re gonna clean this room, Beetlejuice, or-“

“Or what? You gonna spank me?” He cut you off all too smoothly. You weren’t even sure where that just came from. The first thing you noticed, however, is the changed look in his eyes. He still had a taunting grin on his face, but his eyes shifted from mischievous to…lustful? 

“I-I…no. But I’ll banish you for real. You know I will!” You spoke out, trying to stand your ground. Beetlejuice just chuckled and crossed his arm, almost with too much confidence for your liking.

“Oh, yeah? And for how long, babes? Y'know you couldn’t stand to be away from me too long, right?” The taller demon slowly walked towards you. Along with his own demeanor, something in you changed as well. You couldn’t put your finger on it at this very minute though. You took a few steps back as he approached.

“You-you’re talking a lot of shit but-“

“But what, dollface? Hmm?” He cut you off yet again. You felt yourself, quite literally, backed against a wall. Beetlejuice was now standing right in front of you. No, he stood towering over you. Something about his current mood change was making you feel small and timid. When you looked up to try and say something else, you noticed his hair had changed from it’s usual bright green to a dark magenta color. You were too busy staring to notice that Beej placed his hands on either side of your head on the door behind you.  

“Well? I’m waiting~” He said in such a low sensual tone that made you feel weak all over. Your mind and body had just done a complete 180. From being ready to rip Beej’s face apart to being turned on by his own tone switch, it was all too unreal.   

“I-you-“ You stuttered too openly. You were losing your dominant power right in front of him. And Beetlejuice. was loving every second of it.  

“Aw, what’s the matter, Y/N? Cat got that pretty tongue of yours? Why don’t you stop fussing and put it to work for me instead.” His gritty voice and patronizing tone mixed together so well. He moved one of his hands down to graze his fingers against your cheek oh so gently. You tried your best to hide the shiver that made its way down your body.  

“Beej, I-“ You timidly tried to speak up but it was still overshadowed by you looking down at the floor between you two. Along the way, you noticed the growing bulge in his pants in front of you.  

“Shh,” He cooed at you with his chilly hand placed on your cheek. “On your knees, babes.” 

Yet again, you were at a loss for words. On any other day, you would’ve told Beetlejuice exactly where to stick it. Not letting the petty demon even dream of pushing you into submission. But here you were, ready to drop to your knees and let him do whatever he wanted to you. You didn’t realize you stuck in your own thoughts until Beej moved his hand cup your jaw. He used a small amount of force to lift your head back up, forcing you to look into his golden eyes.

“I said, on your knees.” Beetlejuice looked straight into you as he spoke. As if your legs had a mind of their own, you followed suit. You slowly bent your knees and lowered yourself gently to the floor. With his hand still holding a firm grip on your cheek, your head was tilted upwards as Beetlejuice looked down at you. You two stayed like that for a moment. Waiting with so much anticipation, Beetlejuice released your chin and then moved to softly rub his thumb over your bottom lip. His entire expression is filled with lust and desire for you.  

“Hot damn, babes. You always look so damn good on your knees for me.” He almost growled out and he looked at you. You’d never admit but hearing him say that made you feel so many emotions at once. The most lingering feeling was the wetness that was currently filling your panties. While it seemed like your head was about to be clouded by nothing but pleasure and hidden sexual fantasies you didn’t even know you had, you were able to catch yourself. You snapped out of your submissive daze for a moment and touched Beetlejuice’s hand on your mouth. 

“Beej…you just trashed my room. And now you’re gonna turn it into a sex thing.” You asked. Even with your anger seemingly flushed away, you weren’t actually gonna forget the event that started this whole thing. Beetlejuice stopped running his finger over your lip for a moment before looking back towards your bedroom door. 

You felt a small twinge of regret when he stopped his motions. You probably just ruined the moment that you so desperately wanted. And already knowing the high level of pettiness Beej had in him, you wouldn’t be surprised if he stopped everything right then and there. When Beetlejuice looked back down at you, he had such a serious expression on his face. 

“Are you complaining, beautiful? You want me to stop?” He asked and you could hear the slight sense of concern in his voice. Beej was always sure to make certain that you wanted whatever he was giving you. He never pushed you to do something that made you uncomfortable or just did something for his benefit. 

Before you even said anything, you took your hand off of his. Your other hand followed as they both gently touched the front of his thighs. You then glanced down and realized that you were face to face with his extremely achingly hard bulge. You weren’t sure 100% of what the demon had in mind, but you thought you had a clue. One of your hands moves to graze at the bulge, letting Beetlejuice know everything he needs to know. You wanted whatever he was about to do to you, and you wanted it now.

“…No. Don’t stop, Beej.” You once again, spoke timidly. Wanting to give him the sense that had full dominance over you, you palmed at the strain on his pants desperately. The demon man looked down at you with the most lewd filled smirk you had ever seen. 

“Alright then, babes. Let’s put that pretty mouth to work.”

Okay, don’t panic. Because I most definitely have a part 2 in mind for this. But anyway, thanks for reading!

[inspirationdivine]

Chance Encounters || Frank and Lydia

Timing: Current Parties: @frankmulloy @inspirationdivine Summary: Lydia and Frank meet during one of Lydia’s hunts Warnings: None!

Hunting humans occasionally meant coming to places like… this. It wasn’t true terrible, if she was honest, but it also wasn’t the Artesian. After some of the places she’d been to watch Todd perform, this human singer’s choice of venue was more than acceptable. Shortly after she walked in, Lydia’s chest began to ring, like wind chimes in a breeze. Somewhere in here was a fae, she knew it. “Darling, do you mind waiting here a moment?” Lydia asked, walking away from their booth and over to the bar, until she spotted him, an incredibly beautiful man who couldn’t be anything other than fae. He had to be. Lydia slipped to the front, thrilled to meet another fae, so she reached over the bar to offer her hand to shake him. “Hi! I’m Lydia, it’s ever such a pleasure to meet you!”

 Thus far into his shift Frank has abstained from engaging with any of the Pint’s patrons (not that he was overly chatty with any of them to begin with), he had instead isolated himself from them by cleaning the glass pints with a sort of silent determination, looking up only when an order was placed and back down again when it was satisfied. In true Mulloy manner, he had built his own space which few had ever dared to cross, that afternoon was one such exception. The introduction of one, Lydia, was like a plunged blade, spearing through his cocoon of isolated peace. Her beauty was undoubtedly singular, but it was her very being that sung to him. A moment of jarring silence lasted between them, and it only occurred to Frank then that he was holding his breath. Now Frank never shook anyone’s hand, a habit that he had carefully crafted for himself and yet he took hers. Wary flesh on a waiting one, and all at once it was like an electrical shock had been administered on a heart that was flatlining, and then Frank was breathing again. “Frank.” His voice sounded uncertain but that was most definitely his name. 

 "Frank! It's a genuine pleasure." Lydia replied with an effortless smile. When he took her hand, the bells rang loudest, like the bell tower had struck noon. He looked a little alarmed, but maybe most fae had better taste than here. Lydia looked around briefly, but there wasn’t anyone overhearing them. They were much too focused on getting the attention of whoever was actually serving them. Forgetting about the human she’d come here with altogether, Lydia smiled as she lifted herself onto a bar seat in front of him."This was the last piece I expected to meet someone like us. Have you been working here long?" Maybe he was just shy. 

 Frank’s eyes followed her every movement as she lifted herself up onto the bar seat, waiting perhaps for some sort of glamour to fall away and reveal that she was more or less exactly like the rest of them. That this sudden intensity was the subject of his own making, born from wishful thinking and helpless desperation. It did not. He wasn’t sure if relieved was quite the right word. This exact moment had transpired between him and the bar owner before, a man was also like him, like them, and yet even as history played out before him again, he was just as graceless with it the second time as he was the first. “Not that long--I’m sorry like us?” He’s heard of the existence of other subspecies of faes, though he could not name all of them even if you paid him. While she felt familiar, it still wasn’t exactly the same. Perhaps that was the source of his hesitation. Or perhaps it was the way she so obviously enjoyed herself. She carried with her an easy smile that he could not hope to imitate, and was still unsure of whether he even wanted to.

 He was watching her ever so keenly, Lydia felt like she was in a room with Regan again. He was trying to understand her, or perhaps, more vainly, he just couldn’t take his eyes off her. She had that effect on some people and most humans. Until he spoke, that was, and threw all her expectations out of the window. Lydia's smile dripped off her face in surprise and concern. Oh no. She was dealing with another Regan, wasn’t she? How were there so many lost fae in this town? “Do you not…. Feel a similarity? Oh, darling. I’m ever so sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you.” She said, unsure how to approach this. “Do you really not know what I’m talking about?” He was supposed to be working, this was hardly the time to drop something so significant.

 Wait, what?—Frank shook his head, shaking off some of his initial surprise with it. Frank never liked surprises. Surprises either tried to kill him or rendered him stupid. Both were equally undesirable outcomes. The enchantment released its hold and slowly he began to find the functions of his brain again. Finally he regained the ability to put words and coherent thought together so he might be able to communicate with someone where no caution and distance were needed, because she was right, they were alike; the same. Was that not what Frank had always wanted? To be the same? “No, I mean, I know what you’re talking about,” he said, with perhaps the most articulacy he’s had in their entire short conversation, “I just mean you’re not…gancanagh. You’re like me but you’re not…like me. So what are you?”

 He took a moment to resettle himself. Lydia didn’t mind to wait, concern creasing her features. Eventually, when he did speak, Lydia breathed a soft sigh of relief. “Oh, I was worried!” She tilted her head in surprise. He was not wrong, of course, once he explained what it was that he was. All fae rang the bell chimes in her chest in the same way, but she might have been able to guess by his beauty. “Well, no, I couldn’t possibly be. I’m neither a man nor at all masculine in any way. No more than you could be a banshee.” She smiled, leaning in as if to tell him a secret - she was. “Although we are perhaps more similar than you might expect. I’m a Leanan Sidhe. A muse. I inspire art.” 

 Leannán Sídhe. The name was familiar to him, attached to an old, distant, memory of his childhood. Of his mother telling him stories about beasts and faeries from their Irish folklore. Not that any self-respecting eleven year old boy ever paid much attention to stories about faeries, that was of course, before the wings started growing in. But even at his tender age, he did not have the heart to tell her that her bedtime stories were true, least of all those that were not exactly complimentary of the faerie folk. “But it’s never as simple as just inspiring art though is it?” He held her eyes as he answered the cost of that inspiration with a silent gaze. At least she inspired art, Frank was too afraid to even shake a stranger’s hand. The destruction left behind by both were much the same, and Frank was not ignorant of the woman whose eyes kept an unwavering hold on Lydia’s back. “Is she one of your...artists?”

 Oh, he had merely been tongue tied. Lydia smiled, easing more comfortably into her seat now she wasn’t so worried of frightening him. The words meant something to him, and he was blunt in asking about her diet, which made Lydia smile. “No, but then again, no pain no gain, as the saying goes,” she replied, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.  Lydia looked back to Kelly, giving her a small wave. She was so young, yet ever so enthusiastic to share her songs. Lonely, too, but that was the nature of humans that age. She couldn’t quite work out whether Frank was asking out of judgement or plain curiosity, and considering how wide and varied fae morality could be, she decided to play it safe, if always entirely honest. “Her interest is currently natural, rather than cultivated, if that’s what you’re asking. We’re on a thirty day free trial, as it were. What about you? This is not a bad place to work and find a meal for the evening. The company on the other hand…” Lydia looked around the room, and while of course she could not truly tell what anyone was, she was very confident that practically everyone here bar the two of them had to be human. They just had to be. “I imagine it has its ups and downs.”

 Lydia served her own brand of cool indifference, far from concerned by notions of shame or guilt, on how or whom they survived on, and Frank had to suppress a shudder. Her smile was all winter and he had always struggled in the cold, but oh did she wear it so well. Her every word stroked gently at the hungry thing that lived in the marrows of his bones and the pit of his stomach, one Frank kept carefully starved with cheap whiskey and cheaper cigarettes. “I don’t mind, I’m not much of a people person anyway,” he said mildly, and then added, “the shepherd’s pie isn’t so bad…and the stew tastes pretty decent on the nights they remember to season it right.” It was a truth well known that faes couldn’t tell a lie, although Frank had become very good at living one. To pretend to himself that his judgement was from a place of righteous morals, and not from a place of deeper, venomous, resentment that she was so free to do as she was ordained and without remorse for being exactly as she was. It was her nature, as it was his, but why was he the only one telling himself that it was wrong?

 "Really? Now that is a surprise." Lydia knew a fair few gancanagh, who she would have described as the definition of people persons, but there were exceptions to every rule. Horrifically, her mind turned to Jax, the Gancanagh who had worked at the ring, using his silver tongue to force Remmy to fight for his own personal gain. Frank seemed nothing like that man, and by all means, if Jax had been manipulating any other zombie, Lydia might not have minded so much. “I’ll keep the recommendations in mind if I ever bring someone who needs to eat around,” she chuckled, pushing her thoughts far away from Remmy. "By all means, let me know if I'm bothering you. I just… really like to introduce myself to fae when I run into them. It’s easier in this town than most, but still,  and I don’t think I’d seen you at Faetal Attraction."

 Frank answered Lydia’s surprise with his own, evident in the arch of his brow and the slight part of his lips, as if he wanted to say something but was unsure of the words. He was an oddity to her, it seemed, which begged the question of how many faes like him did she know? And then a small voice added most delicately: was his father among those acquaintances? He quickly guided his curiosity elsewhere, back to the present, to the name of a place he was not yet familiar with. He hasn’t been in White Crest all that long and much of his time was spent divided between tending the bar at the Pint and then at Soul, with little spared to himself, or anything else. A poor habit that needed amending, not that Frank was in any great rush to do that either. “Fatal attraction? Like the movie?”

 Lydia stared at him for a five-count, before laughing in her bewilderment. “No, like the bar,” she chuckled, pressing her hand against her chest. “I’m not laughing at you, I’m ever so sorry. This town has a propensity for puns which results in just this sort of confusion.  F-A-E Faetal.” Her chuckles had subsided, as she looked at him questioningly. “It’s a place for people like us to meet other fae. Oh, come on, now you have to let me take you sometime. Sometime when you aren’t working, we’ll make a night of it.” Better than this place, certainly, but who was she to judge? “I know you said you aren’t a people person, but there are quieter times that we could go, and it’s fun, even for a short while.”

Her pretty promise came with an even prettier smile, and Frank was immediately put ill at ease. He had developed an almost instinctual aversion toward charm, and charming people, and Lydia was practically dripping with it. A series of practiced excuses were laid out on his tongue (this was not the first time Frank had to talk his way out of doing something or going somewhere he did not want to), but underneath the coiling chain of dishonesty, a little presence at the back of his consciousness demanded his attention: curiosity. Frank has never been in a room with more than one fae at a time. People like us. He had always been intrigued by how many of them they were, how many species of faes existed beyond those he already knew of (which was not many at all), what was this community like that his ‘normal’ upbringing had deprived him of? Frank was practiced in denying himself a great many pleasures, but always failed at refusing his own curiosity. To curb any great display of enthusiasm, he resigned to her invitation with a measured, “I’ll think about it.”

 He hesitated. Lydia just couldn’t get a read on him, not yet, but she would. With every passing day, her loneliness threatened to suffocate her a little more. At least a gancanagh would understand that part of her. All the same, she smiled in relief at his measured response. “Alright. Well, when you make up your mind, please drop me a line.” Lydia pulled her business card from her wallet, and looked at the quickly accumulating pile of dirty glass ware that she was distracting him from. “As much as I’m enjoying meeting you, I should probably not get you in trouble with work.” And she ought to return to sweet young Kelly, and her hunt. 

 Lydia Griffin. Art Conservator. Her contact information craftily spelled out  beneath in fine print. He put it inside his jacket pocket with no great care. At the time, he didn’t think he would ever come to need it. It wasn’t as if they socialised in the same social circle. Frank wasn’t social at all! You need only look at their dress to realise their differences, which was stark. Outwardly, anyway. What stopped him from throwing the little rectangle of (probably expensive—it looked expensive) paper away altogether was a feeling. He wasn’t sure when, or under what circumstance but they would meet again, of this he had no doubt. Frank looked at the young woman at the table; still waiting. Evidence of impatience present in the increased frequency of glances she kept shooting in their direction. “Right, I should let you get back to your guest.” Frank took a moment, not as certain in his own pleasure at having met Lydia. He said instead, “I’ll see you around.” And he would, even if he didn’t know it yet.

[totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes]

Stargazing (Fanfic)

It has been a HOT SECOND since I’ve written anything and though I didn’t think I would get it done in time I finished it. A fluffy fanfic centered around Lydia and Wendy. 

____________________________________________________________

Lydia was stumped, she had been trying to plan something all week but there was no hope. She had no idea what Wendy would want for Valentine’s day, at first Lydia didn’t think she was the gushy romantic type but all of a sudden she was dropping all these hints and asking if Lydia was free that night. She was desperate, the Maitlands and her parents had just suggested dinner and flowers but she didn’t want to just cop out and do something lame. She really cared for Wendy and even though it was out of her comfort zone she wanted to do something more extravagant, and when someone wants extravagant there’s only one person to do to.

“I need your help,” 

BJ snapped his eyes open from his nap and smiled at the small goth kid, “What kinda help are we talking? Because if you’re planning on getting revenge on that geometry teacher who gave you a C on your exam I have had a few ideas floating around, we could-”

“No, no.” she twisted her fingers, already regretting asking him, “I need help with 

Wendy. Valentine’s day is this Friday and I have nothing.”

“Nothing? God, aren’t you lesbians supposed to be hopeless romantics? It’s the most important love day of the year, no the CENTURY and you have nothing for the love of your life?’

“She’s not the love of my life,” she blushed, “She’s my girlfriend, and I really like her, I

even love her but-”

“Do you want my help or not kid? I may be a gross demon but I know how to woo the ladies.”

“Gross,” Lydia scrunched her nose but when she saw how excited he seemed she couldn’t 

say no to him. Besides, she had nothing better planned and she didn’t want to let Wendy down. 

The two of them stayed up all that night planning out the perfect date, the perfect gift, it was all perfect. The only slight snafu was when they tried to buy fireworks on the internet but Lydia wasn’t old enough to buy them and BJ was dead. They had to do some rearranging but they were able to salvage the night without the fireworks. 

“I’m not super into Valentine’s day but I think we did good BJ, I hope Wendy loves it.”

“I’m sure she will kiddo.”

Wendy was panicking, she never really cared for Valentine’s day, but ever since she met Lydia she had been trying to get into all the sappy romantic stuff. Lydia seemed like a really loving person, and she was never shy about asking for hugs or holding hands but she had no clue what Lydia would want to do for Valentine’s day, the whole thing seemed very anti-Lydia all pink and hearts and mushiness. Wendy didn’t like it but she wasn’t going to screw up and not do something special for Lydia. She had been trying to come up with ideas all week, dropping hints trying to get Lydia to say what she wanted to do but she was like a stone when it came to the holiday. She always got nervous too talking about it. She tried talking to her parents about it but their ideas were so lame, they suggested she take Lydia rollerblading and for ice cream. She thought about asking the Deetz’s or the Maitland’s but she didn’t want them to spill the secrets to Lydia. She knew there was one person’s silence she could buy for the right price. She waited until a few days before Valentine’s day and then she picked up her phone and texted BJ. After negotiating for a half-hour BJ agreed to help her for the price of three Zagnuts and for unknown reasons one of those old-timey snake-in-a-can prank toys. Over text, BJ revealed all the stuff Lydia secretly wanted to do for Valentine’s day and though some of it didn’t seem like something Lydia would like to do, Wendy figured that BJ knew her better than almost anyone so she trusted him. 

By the time the fourteenth rolled around but the girls were so nervous. They barely got to see each other during classes but that evening Lydia was running around the house trying to find something to wear while she waited for Wendy to come by the house. After nearly throwing her clothes in the fire because she hated it all Barbara and Delia helped her settled on a red shirt and black skirt. She anxiously checked in with BJ who assured her that everything was all under control, suddenly there was a knock on the door and Lydia bolted downstairs before anyone else got the chance to open it.

Wendy was swaying nervously, fiddling with the red and black flannel shirt she was wearing over a white shirt. She didn’t like getting fancy, and while she didn’t think this was over the top she was worried it would seem too casual for where they were planning on going. Lydia always put so much effort into what she wore, even with the dumb uniform Lydia’s was always perfectly in place. Lydia said that she adored Wendy’s style but now standing at the door she debated if she should run back home and change, it was too late the door was already open and Lydia had thrown herself into a hug. She ran her finger on the hem of Wendy’s flannel and smiled, she loved this one. 

Dinner was lovely, that was Wendy’s portion of the evening. They went to a nice little restaurant, not too fancy but not fast food like a good chunk of their dates were too. Lydia snorted when Wendy folded the napkins into animal shapes and did a dramatic reenactment of Jurrasic Park. They paid for their meal and then it was time for Lydia’s part. She texted BJ quick before getting to the house to triple check that everything was a go, Wendy did the same, unaware that Lydia had also planned something for that time too. The two of them made their way to the backyard and were seized with panic when they saw an empty yard. Lydia’s mind started racing as she tried to figure out if she had misheard BJ, she could have sworn he said the backyard but there were no flowers, there was no candles or illegal fireworks. Had he forgotten? He promised her that he had done it, she gave him her credit card. 

Wendy felt like crying, she knew she should have just gone with what her parents said, or even risked the Maitland’s revealing the plans by accident. At least then she would have had something to show for it but all she saw was an empty yard. 

“Lydia I’m so sorry, I had more planned but-”

“Me too! BJ promised me that he was going to set it up and he lied to me!”

“Wait you asked BJ for help too?”

“I mean yeah, wait why did you?”

Wendy blushed, “I figured he knew more about you, you seem really close with him so I thought that he was the best option. God I really wanted to do something special for you but now”

Someone was shouting from the roof. Lydia turned her head and looked up. Sure enough the demon was sitting up there, popcorn in hand and a lawn chair propped up on the railing. She didn’t even bother questioning why it was there, but she was furious.

“Beetlejuice you get your ass down here!”

“Calm down Scarecrow, look over by the tree!” he shouted, munching on his popcorn

Lydia huffed but looked where he pointed. She fought back a smile when she saw a blanket underneath the tree, two small presents wrapped on top of it and a little box of chocolates. She grabbed Wendy’s hand and pulled her over. There was a note resting on the red box and she picked it up

You two are both idiots. Neither of you wanted something big for this holiday. I just wanted to mess with you. 

PS

-idk I heard the stars might look nice tonight

PPS

-Lydia I accidentally ordered two dozen bags of live Lady Bugs off of Amazon

Lydia laughed and looked over to Wendy who was blushing in embarrassment, “I thought you loved Valentine’s day.”

“No I thought you did! BJ told me you really wanted someone to go all out. That’s why I was asking you all those questions.”

“Are you serious! The only reason I thought you liked this holiday was that you kept talking about it, I didn’t want to let you down.”

“Lydia you could never let me down.” Wendy held her hand and the two of them laid their backs on the blanket, “I just wanted to spend the night with you.”

“That’s all I wanted too.”

“Aww, why don’t ya kiss already?” BJ sneered

Lydia snapped up and gave him a death glare. He got the message, folded his lawn chair and went into the attic to bug the Maitland’s. Once he was gone Lydia laid back down, resting her head on Wendy’s shoulders. While she hated to admit it, Beetlejuice was right, the stars did look beautiful that night. 

[specialagentlokitty]

Can I get a matchup for Marvel, Teen Wolf, Twilight, My Hero Acadamia, Supernatural, Lord of the Rings, Hobbit, The Umbrella Academy, Dictir Who, and Brooklyn Nine-Nine? You only have to do the ones that you can figure out a ship for. I am 5'7, shoulder length hair dyed red, slightly overweight, and I am bisexual. I love to read and write stories. I love to listen to classical music and Broadway and musicals. 1/3 sorry about all the fandoms, again you can skip whatever you want.

Marvel - MJ

MJ has all sorts of hate as well, so she’s with you on that, someone being offensive? They have both of you to worry about.

She doesn’t care that you’re slightly overweight, she loves you for your personality, that’s important for her. She doesn’t like groups, so she won’t force you into groups and if she sees you panicking she’s quick to get you out of there.

She’s seen you pissed and has to admit it’s scary and to her it’s hot too, she loves seeing you scare other people, and she’s always down to take things slow if that’s what helps her and if you need to talk she’s there too

Teen wolf - Stiles stilinski

Stiles was in love with Lydia for a while, but as soon as he met you that changed, and he found someone who actually saw him.

He asked you out, and you asked to take things slow, you didn’t tell him why but he agreed, hoping you’d tell him when you were ready.

He picked up on your anxiety pretty fast and he’s careful not to make you do anything that could make you panic and he keeps an eye on you in huge groups and in school he’s always at your side, his hand in yours.

He gets terrified when you’re pissed, he thinks you’re scary and stays well out of your way when your angry. He’s even resorted to hiding behind Scott prayin scotts werewolfness would save him.

He thinks you have a beautiful singing voice even if you don’t think so and always asks you to sing for him

Twilight - Carlisle Cullen

Carlisle has been around a while, so when he first started dating you he had a feeling that you’d been in a few bad relationships and it was him that offered to take things slow.

He always buys you little gifts and such, and when you panic he’s always there to calm you down and take you away from the group.

He enjoys listening to musicals with you, and especially loves to listen to classical and dance around the place with you, he loves it, he loves holding you in his arms.

He’s a vampire so seeing you pissed doesn’t scare him, but he always tries to calm you down and take you away just so you don’t do or say anything that may make things worse.

He’s gentle, loving, caring, kind, he’s brilliant and he’s always going to be there to support and love you

My hero academia - Izuku Midoriya

This softy cried when he found out what had happened in your past, you cried and held you tightly telling you he’d never let anything like that happen to you ever again.

He can be pretty shy and awkward so when it comes to helping you with your anxiety he’s not very good but he tries and that’s what counts right?

Deku loves music, so he’s down to listen to whatever you want to listen too, classical or musicals and if you sing around him, he spends the rest of the day smiling brightly.

Now, when you get pissed, he’s scared but he stands by your side because if you’re angry clearly you have a reason to be.

Overall he’s just a huge softy who loves you to bits and wants to keep you safe no matter what

Supernatural - Sam Winchester

Sam understands your need to take the relationship slow and he does, because you’re the first person he’s been with since Jess.

He always asks before kissing you, hugging you, even holding your hand, especially when your panicking. But with him being a hunter and wanted by every federal organisation, so you don’t really get into a group with others, it’s usually just you, Sam, Dean and Cas.

He likes how calm classical music is, and he asks you to dance every time, and when it comes to musicals he asks to watch whatever t came from first.

There isn’t much reason you’d get pissed, but if you do Sam stays out of your way to let you calm down and he buys you you’re favourite food for when you calm down

Lord of the rings - Aragorn

He’s sad when you asks to take things slow because of the past, but he understands.

Aragorn spends time letting you know he loves you, getting you things and keeping you safe. He loved how you accepted he hobbits immediately and how you mothered them.

When you started to panic because of how big a group was, he took you away, hugged you tightly until you calmed down and kiss you softly when you were read, he’s very gentle with you, as if you were glass that could break

The hobbit - Fili Durin

Fili is a lot like Aragorn, he’s shocked you love him but he’s happy because you’re perfect, even if you are way taller than him (much to his embarrassment)

He loves every bit about you, he adores you.

He wants to kill the people that hurt you, but doesn’t show any sort of anger or bad emotion near you in case he scares you, and if your angry he tries to cheer you up, no matter how many chilling glares you send his way

The umbrella academy - Vanya

Vanya is very gentle, shy and awkward. She’s not used to someone loving her or giving her attention, so you’ll have to give her time.

She’ll be the one asking to take things slowly, and you’d be more than happy to agree. She likes to hold your hand and she shyly kissed your cheek, and she’s reluctant to introduce you to her family, but when she does everyone’s happy, since she can play the violin she often plays for you.

She tells you about her past, and you tell her about yours, and that’s how you bonded. Over he fact neither of you had felt love, and you both started to fix each other, picking up the pieces.

She get nervous when you’re angry, but after you reassure hernit wasn’t at her and she feels a bit better, and since she doesn’t like people you don’t have to worry about groups

Doctor who - Clara Oswald

Clara is a teacher, she’s seen and encountered students with anxiety like yours, so she knows pretty well how to help you through it and won’t force you to go anywhere you can’t.

She also understands you need to take things slow so that’s what you both do, even when the doctor tries to meet you, she refuses to let him until you’re ready.

You and Clara often read to classical music and you watch a lot of musicals when she’s not busy, everything is this relationship is trust, love and fairness

Brooklyn nine nine - Rosa Diaz

Rosa is a badass, so you can bet she hunted down the people who hurt you and she hurt them, not only to try make you feel better, but so she knew they paid the price.

She isn’t big of PDA but for you she’ll hold your hand and let you kiss her cheek, and behind closed doors she the most loving person and showers you with affection.

She isn’t big on musicals or classical music but she tries for you, but she just can’t do it, she doesn’t like it.

She loves you though, you can bet on it, though she wouldn’t admit to anyone but you, she loves you and she’ll take care of you

[spellnbone]

Edgar writes the Theatre & Arts Column for the Daily Prophet. His philosophy is that if someone has a voice, they have to use it to do good; this means that on the one hand one has to push art to its limits or even further, and on the other hand one has to make those voices heard which don’t have a platform yet.

Edgar’s Introduction to Theatre

Much like most families with comfortably filled wallets, the Bones would take their children to the theatre on the weekends quite often. Most of the children adored it but also took it somewhat for granted -- which made the culture shock of moving to England only worse. There are theatres in Hastings, yes but they are small and not at all as dramatic and colourful as what the Bones had grown to know in Mexico. They lacked imagination! And since there was no theatre club at Hogwarts either, it was only on his first trip to London at the age of thirteen that Edgar rediscovered his love for this art.

After that, he began reading and loving play-scripts more than novels, eventually writing down his thoughts, comparing, analysing, interpreting with fervor and a very new, strange sensation growing within him: passion. For someone who found interest in literally anything he encountered (except Quidditch), it was a surprise to many to see Edgar so into something (though one might not forget that his new love for theatre came around the same time as he was beginning to grow apart from Amelia). His friends from school might still remember that one of the best ways to get Edgar talking in a social situation was by expressing a badly thought-out opinion about theatre. Suddenly the shy boy who so often was accused of boot-licking would throw himself into passionate speeches about love, death and every other grand topic of life inbetween.

(One of his favourite topics, that is, urban legends he loved to ramble about for hours was Mundungus Fletcher. Each and every article covering the fiasco was bought six times and each and every time Fletcher’s photograph was cut out and glued to various surfaces; Edgar’s notebooks, the under-side of the topbunk above him, the walls in his room at home. It was the same grotesque-fascination-turned-unstopple-obsession that the Muggle play Cats had about ten years later).

It was during this time also that Edgar began reading the news. Initially he only ever snatched the arts section (despite its terribly boring focus on mainstream theatre), he’d eventually also begin reading the other articles, finding himself growing more and more educated and opinionated about political topics, too.

His passion ended where the stage began, though. He never tried to direct a play, write one himself, or -- Morgana forbid! -- tried to star in one. He was quite content to be but an observer. However, after graduating and leaving England to finally go back to Mexico, he fell in love with an actress of a small travelling troupe (and shortly after with her brother, the director), and before he knew it, he was travelling around the world with them.

When he came back to England, he wrote for the hebdomadal East Sussexian Wizarding paper, simply because the owner was a good friend of the Bones family and needed someone to fatten up the paper with some think-pieces. Edgar neither saw his calling in that nor ever made a name for himself, he was mostly just passing his time, trying to figure out what he really wanted to do with his life. It was only when he met up with Ainsley Abbott again around his 19th birthday that he began considering journalism as a proper career. She’d told him that the Daily Prophet was looking for a new arts columnist and remembered that he had always had a thing for theatre.

London’s Theatres

Contrary to movies, most other Muggle art isn’t completely disregarded by the Wizarding World. Of course one will always find some bloodpurists who think that all magicless art isn’t worth their time, but the more commonly agreed upon opinion is that when it comes to old-fashioned art, Muggles aren’t all that bad at it. The Daily Prophet has therefore always covered the Wizarding Westend as well as the Muggle Westend productions, giving the former more attention but never discriminating between them all too much. They are, after all, similar in many regards: the leads will most likely be traditionally good-looking, born and raised in this country and culture, and introduced to the director by personal connections. The themes of the plays perpetuate conservative values and ideals and have to please the broadest audience possible, therefore not contain any smut or controversial themes.

They’re usually even located in the same buildings as the Muggle theatres, either in magically hidden back halls or underground:

“Two, reserved on the Daily Prophet.”

The lady behind the counter, despite looking just like the other ticket vendors next to her, gave it a nod and handed them their keys. They were small little copper things, meant for a one time use of a door that was titled: “Staffs Only”.

Muggles had this thing to believe that theatres were haunted. The possibility of that, considering just how few people actually died in such places compared to normal apartment houses, were slim, and the idea absurd once you knew what truly caused the mysterious whispers, the unexplained floor-board creaking, and distant moaning: A second theatre down below. Wizarding. Vibrant, crowded, cheerful.

Not having even yet reached the first floor below, the music already met Edgar and Amelia. The chit chat was lively, and unlike the Muggle theatre above, time had not changed the customs of exhibitions and shows here: Roasted-nut sellers were walking around with their goods on a tray hanging down their neck, a fire-spitter was entertaining a group of kids in a corner, and on the stage stood one of the actors, cheering and shouting blurbs about the play in an attempt to motivate the audience. No seats but on the upper balconies, were ladies sat whose robes were so fluffy and wide that their companions for the night attempting to sit next to them probably needed to shout to have their words heard.

The idea to even pay attention to those independent artists who always seem angry or angsty, who always seemed so desperate to speak up about issues that no respectable Wizard would care about? It was unheard of by the general Wizarding Public who didn’t have a great variety of news outlets.

It was only when Edgar accepted his job as the new arts columnist that the ‘Off Westend’ productions -- that is, the exhibits shown in garages, the plays held on rooftops, the stories told by otherwise drowned voices -- were finally given a platform through and by the Daily Prophet.

Edgar’s Own Private Resistance

For about eight years now, Edgar’s been publishing little articles of about 300 to 500 words a day which are usually reviews and recommendations, as well as longer think-pieces on the Sunday edition. They’re all signed E.V.Bones (or at times solely E.V.B when the space is spare), much like his letters, so it all depends on the wit of a person whether they know who is writing the column or not. It’s earning him 6 to 10 galleons per piece, that is 40 to 70 galleons a week, which (at least in modern equivalent) is 210 to 350 pounds a week, so he’s not poor but also far from becoming rich with this. As of now, he never considered changing his job, though. Partly due to the fact that he gets to see all sorts of plays for free, partly because he usually does all his work at the office only once a week (usually a 12 hour work day) and has the rest of the week to deal with Order business. But most importantly he’s still at the Daily Prophet because it allows him to fight this war in his own, quiet terms.

Upon reviewing a play, Edgar always asks two questions: how does this further the progress of art, and how does this further the progress of society? While the opinions in his writing are always expressed quite subtly (as otherwise, Edgar’s arch nemesis Kenny Mack, his editor and son of the Daily Prophet’s current owner, will simply censor out what might be too controversial for the general readership), they’re never suppressed or gentle, certainly never excuse conservative, problematic productions.

(It was because of one of those harsher reviews of his that he met the then-adored Lydia Avery, who he had equated to a piece of morning toast -- something you thoroughly enjoy in the moment itself but would never crave if hungry or a somewhat interesting person. Most of his review had been about the blatant racism of the play, though, and and yet, while up until this day Lydia might still be upset about it, Edgar never left their conversation with anything other than appreciation for her. He’s well aware that actors are a symptom of an ill society, not the illness itself.)

The idea that he could use his job for something bigger, something good, came the night after Ainsley had suggested he take the job at the Daily Prophet. “Me?” he had asked over a cup of tea, not even 20 years old then, not yet in the Order, not yet jaded and made brave by war, not yet used to the idea that every helping hand counted, “Reviewing art for the whole of Britain? Why would anyone care about what I have to say?” “They don’t,” Dell had replied in this earnest way of his, “but it’s not about you anyway. It’s about them. There’s people out there who have no one who listens to them, even though they have something to say, even though so many others want -- no! need! -- to hear what they have to say. It’s not about you. It’s about them. And you’re the one who’s going to make sure they’re heard.” “But the Daily Prophet? It’s so conservative.” “Not your column, it won’t be. Not if you write it.”

What his brother Dell was saying and what Edgar grew to understand over the years, was that there are so many Muggleborns and Halfbreeds out there who never see themselves represented in a positive, hopeful light in stories, or at least by the actors telling those stories. The mainstream theatre productions simply do not care to show such representation, to tell such diverse stories. It’s the back-alley theatres that dare to break the rules of what is acceptable, to break the norm, to help society and art evolve. And Edgar hopes that by writing about this, more people will be able to realise that they’re not alone. That there’s others like them, out there, everywhere. That despite the way the (relatively neutral) Daily Prophet reports it, Voldemort doesn’t have that many people on his side, at least not compared to just how many people are against him. By drawing attention to those smaller plays and their values, he helps to grow and foster a community where like-minded people can meet and share their opinions and realise that they’re not alone at all.

And thus, Edgar had accepted the job, his agenda of political nature, safely tucked between 8 and 11pm, and sometimes also during matinées.

[slash-em-up]

Re-Assessing Presuppositions pt. 1: The Collector x Reader

First off; this is a monster of a fic. It’s around 3.5k and I don’t think I’ve ever written something this large - SO LARGE TUMBLR WONT LET ME PUT IT ALL IN ONE POST!!

So this is going to be a two-parter.

Secondly, this deals with a lot of INCORRECT assumptions about BDSM, M/F power dynamics, sexuality in general, and homosexuality. I think we’re all pretty aware that Asa has some #issues with masculine identity, and that comes into play here. So take everything said with a grain of salt.

Huge huge HUGE THANK YOU to @voorheehees and @princessprofanity for their beta reading and big-brain ideas about Asa’s book club, respectively.

Enjoy!!!

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

Mary-Ellen rolled her eye as Gladys and Marlene giggled on the couch, whispering and gasping as they poured over their recommendation for the next Oak Grove Bookclub selection.

This happened every time they ended their current selection, and frankly Mary-Ellen was getting tired of it. They thought that just because they talked the group into reading that dreadful ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ book that it was their solemn duty to provide something equally as salacious for the next get-together.

Mary-Ellen huffed again and clutched her ‘Ms. Marple’ book a bit closer to her chest. Not this time, not if she had to stand right up and filibuster until they caved.

Marlene’s husband was falling asleep beside her; but she knew the former lawyer might protest that by using her walker to stand on she wasn’t technically following the rules of a filibuster – but frankly screw him. She only had so many years left to live and she wasn’t going to waste whatever time she had left reading that trash.

She perked up as the door to the community center opened and the youngest member of their little club walked in to the room.

Asa Emory was probably the person most likely to protest another smutty novel, next to herself; so she was very glad he decided to show up to the meeting.

After he pursued the selection of baked goods laid out on the center table (grabbing one of Lydia’s walnut blondies – smart man) he took the seat on the couch next to Mary-Ellen.

“Hello honey. How are you today?”

The large man turned slightly in his seat and offered her a brief grin.

“I’m doing fine Mary-Ellen, thank you. How’s your hip?”

Mary-Ellen sighed and leaned back.

“Never get old, honey. It’s not worth the social security check.”

Asa hummed in the back of his throat, tilting his head towards her with a teasing glint in his unique eyes.

“I’ll do my best.”

He set the book he’d had tucked under his arm onto the table, taking a large bite of the blondie he held.

Smiling, Mary-Ellen noted that he’d brought an older mystery novel as well.

Seeing her interest, Asa swallowed his mouthful and offered “Y/N picked it.”

A wrinkled hand rose and patted the solid knee next to her own arthritic one.

“I knew I liked them for a reason.”

Breaking the calm, Marlene clapped her hands together to get the rooms attention – pulling her husband from his slumber with a jolt.

“Hello everyone! Thank you for joining us for the fifth Oak Grove Bookclub content selection meeting!”

A polite smattering of applause echoed across the space.

“Now, I know there are so many wonderful choices out there, so lets get started with the book pitches!”

She looked knowingly over to Gladys.

“Gladys, would you care to start us off?”

Mary-Ellen groaned, making Asa huff in amusement next to her.

“Thank you so much Marlene! First, lets all have a moment of silence for our dear Robert, who we lost to prostate cancer last month.”

A murmur of assent rose from the group as they nodded or crossed themselves in remembrance of their lost member.

“In his honor, Marlene and I have chosen this book – ‘Beg for It’ by Megan Hart. An erotic story about two business people in a BDSM relationship where the man is the submissive!”

“Gladys! Stop using all those strange words, you know I wasn’t here when you read that ‘Fifty Shades of whatever’ book!”

Gladys sniffed.

“It means ‘Bondage, Domination, Sadism, and Masochism. Get with the times Albert.”

Mary-Ellen saw this as her opportunity to pipe up.

“I don’t like it when we read these smutty novels. It’s not what I joined this Bookclub for at all! If I wanted to read about two people doing naughty things, I would go over to Harriet’s house and read Earls ‘Hustler’ magazines!”

“Hey!”

“Don’t be such a prude Mary-Ellen, we’re all adults here. And quite frankly reading that other book helped Marvin and I try some things we hadn’t thought to try in our sixty years together!”

Someone laughed loudly.

“Which was all well and good until Marv’s back gave out!”

“Hush, Gloria!”

“All I’m saying is that we should be reading something relatable.”

“Yeah, if anyone can get anything out of those horn-dog books it’ll be Asa! At least he and Y/N have a better chance of getting through it without needing to stop for a pill-break!”

“Well then, lets ask Asa! How about it sweetie? Want to get some tips for the bedroom?”

Asa looked like he was going to implode or run out the door – meaning he looked closer to a statue than a man – back straight as a board, and gripping his leg tight enough to make his knuckles go white.

He cleared his throat.

“We’re fine, thank you.”

Marlene spoke up –

“So like a man - as long as they’re getting themselves taken care of they’re perfectly content to leave everything else alone.”

“Asa, have you asked Y/N if they’d like to mix things up in the bedroom?”

“Carl, you can’t ask people that!”

“Whaaat? I’m too old to be shy. And when Dorothy is on top I get a free prostate exam!”

This comment was met with several screeches and hoots from the room; but Asa remained quiet.

He stood suddenly, and grabbed his book.

“I’m sorry, I have to leave. Please let me know what the final decision is. My vote is for whatever Mary-Ellen picks.”

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

Asa walked back to the house slowly, deep in thought about the situation he’d just departed from.

In all honesty, he wished he’d left sooner – never even heard the lies and slander about male pleasure and bedroom power dynamics.

He liked the members of the book club well enough – as much as he liked anyone who wouldn’t be joining his collection, he supposed; but they were wrong on this. They had to be.

For all that the occasional victim would yell and scream abuse while he was perfecting them, he knew the truth. Only homosexuals could feel pleasure from anal penetration – and he definitely wasn’t a homosexual. His father had made sure of that.

And he’d gotten so lucky with you. Not only were they accepting of his ‘hobby’; but they never tried to undermine his authority in the bedroom. Even when things got more heated than normal – like when you had purchased that lovely lingerie several weeks ago – Asa was assured that he’d be the one calling the shots, metaphorically.

Of course he’d heard people talk about their predilections before – woman on top, tying up your partner, and most recently pegging - but as long as you stayed where you belonged, there was no reason to let this upset him any further.

He nodded succinctly to himself as he strode up the stairs and turned the key to your house.

‘GET ON YOUR KNEES GET ON YOUR KNEES GET ON YOUR KNEES, BABY JUST GET ON YOUR KNEES’

… Or not.

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

“Asa?”

You poked your head out of the dining room where you’d been dusting. Enjoying some alone time to play the pop music you knew Asa didn’t enjoy.

You’d thought you’d heard him enter, but then the door slammed…

You looked out the window as the green Buick Asa drove screeched out of the driveway and took off towards town.

‘Guess he must have forgotten something.’

[dwellordream]

This is kind of two unrelated questions but: if you're still doing the director's cuts, could you do chapter 3 of grass crown? (Or whichever chapter of whichever fic you want) and what your favorite fanfics are (regardless of fandom)?

I’ll rec some fics first because that’s going to be shorter than a director cut haha: in terms of what is currently updating that I’m following: An Unexpected Journey is a great The Mandalorian fic involving one of the most well-written and well-rounded, human OCs I have ever read in any fic, ever. His Highness Steven Universe is a very funny Steven Universe AU which does a great job of portraying fledgling teen romance as being so excruciating and mortifying yet giddily fun. Little Swan Lost is a very interesting modern Hobbit AU involving female Bilbo and an arranged marriage? sounds a little far-fetched but it’s both quite angsty and quite sweet. Our Blades Are Sharp is a great ASOIAF AU series revolving around a still-kicking Domeric Bolton and Sansa Stark; it offers a really interesting take on House Bolton. War in a time of “peace” is an awesome HP AU about a daughter of Sirius Black and a French Veela and her struggles through Hogwarts in Slytherin. Chapter 3 aka Lydia’s Dramatic Entrance aka “In the garden of Eden”: I actually had a great time writing this chapter and considered it a nice breath of fresh air into the fic in general (despite it literally being Chapter 3). Lydia was one of the first ‘wholly original characters’ I thought of when developing Grass Crown, and she sort of just sashayed onto the page with a martini in hand, dressed to the nines. We literally open with Lydia staring at her reflection- or trying to- much like the fish in the Rosiers’ gaudy ornamental tank, Lydia lives in a glass house and is always under inspection and observation.  Then we pretty quickly break down the Rosier family tree- mother Cordelia, father Gilbert, big brother Lyle, and pregnant sister-in-law Cecily. Cecily’s pregnancy is a big deal for the Rosiers, and a point of pride- with pureblood birth rates dwindling, a viable pregnancy is truly seen as something to celebrate and brag about. This chapter goes into detail about Lydia’s observant nature right off the bat, as well as how perceptive she thinks she is, pretty much dissecting everyone with one look alone. Projection, much? The big ‘problem’ of the hour is, of course, the floral arrangements- this is the sort of stuff that makes up Lydia’s extremely constrained life. Floral arrangements and caterers and decorations- party planning and social hours and gossip and fashion is pretty much what she’s expected to limit herself to. While it’s not immediately clear if the Rosiers have actively dissuaded Lydia from having a career or not, it’s obvious that she’s not really encouraged to be interested in that sort of thing- she’s got a big future on the horizon, but that future is someone else’s, with her sort of tacked on as part of the decor.  We also see that Lydia is far from hesitant or shy; she teases and jokes and rolls her eyes, but is careful to never actually show (or even feel) any real anger or upset at the world around her. basically it’s like she’s on thin ice all the time, as toothless as the Rosiers might seem at first glance, aside from just being snobs. The scene of her under the rose trellis and by the fountain talking to her brother was the first real image I ever had of Lydia and what she’d be like in this fic. The roses are beautiful- but also completely artificial- they aren’t natural growth, they were forcibly created to bloom so wonderfully with magic and potions. We also get the first hint of Lydia’s metamorphmagus abilities here.

Lyle stands in contrast- the prodigal son to Lydia’s seemingly perfect daughter. Whereas she is always gracious and polite, he’s sullen and rude, acting more like he’s still a teenager than a 30 year old man.  Lydia says “They wouldn’t even know me” in reference to guests showing up early- suggesting that the face she was just speaking to Lyle with is not necessarily the same one she’s about to put on for the party. The one real concern Lyle seems to show is that Lydia might forget to wear her engagement ring- she doesn’t seem to go around wearing it at home, which already tells us a lot about her relationship with Tom, and it is odd that in this one regard Lyle seems actually concerned- does he worry about Lydia’s interactions with Tom for her sake or his own? The ring is very much a product of the time period- it’s not an antique or heirloom like many pureblooded engagement rings might be, it’s brand spanking new, something Lydia is not at all bothered by- she clearly doesn’t mind that Tom isn’t like the other supposedly pureblood men she knows, and she is spiteful about the fact that others are jealous of her luck in becoming engaged to someone slated to become the Minister for Magic. We then find out she is just 23- very young compared to many of the other adult characters. On the other hand, we also get the sense that Lydia is looking forward to this marriage to Tom- she may not have had a say in the matter, but she certainly doesn’t view it with much trepidation or disgust, whether she actually likes spending time with him or not. She is also very aware that their engagement is part of the political machine- it looks better for Tom to marry into one of the Sacred 28 families, so that’s exactly what he’s doing, and she happens to be the lucky young lady. She acknowledges that her parents have put their faith in him to help bring back an era of grandeur and power, but expresses little interest in that herself, having more focus on the future and what it holds for her personally. Lydia then literally does up her face, which is pretty much suited to the ideal beauty standards for the time period- peaches and cream complexion, thick, light hair, small nose, thin eyebrows, dark lashes and pink lips. It’s not about what she likes, it’s about what other people expect and want to see, and, as she notes, what Tom in particular seems to like- she’s already picked up on some of that. We then get a brief flashback to their first meeting when Lydia was just nineteen and Tom twenty-six; how easily he charmed her parents and how interesting she found him, mostly because he wasn’t all over her or condescending to her.  Tom is very particular about who he accepts drinks from, we see. And barely a few hours after being introduced to this man, Lydia is pretty certain she’s going to end up married to him- not because she’s falling in love, but because she knows her parents will be in favor of the match due to Tom’s political connections and rising star in the Ministry- plus the wealth it promises to bring to the family. Lydia’s reaction to this, we see, wasn’t anger or fear but general apathy. ‘Oh well,’ she seems to think. ‘Better him than someone worse.’ This doesn’t seem to be a very normal reaction for a young woman, even from a pureblood family- Lydia comes across as deeply pragmatic to her very core right from the start. We then see that Lydia has, in fact, heard of Amy, surprise surprise, but any mention of Tom and Amy’s very peculiar relationship in school has been reduced to the assumption that it was a hormonal fling.  Then we finally get the party started; “No one picks a wallflower” Lydia’s mother warns her, but Cordelia has nothing to worry about- Lydia knows how to command a room and has zero issues flattering and chatting with whoever comes her way. We see more of what she finds appealing about Tom- he’s not lusting after her or forcing awkward conversations about their future, he mostly leaves her alone unless he needs her for something, which Lydia seems to prefer. For all her social graces, she seems to be a deeply solitary person who’s used to confiding in no one but herself.  Tom shows up with the Princes here, and Lydia greets him like the perfect 50s housewife with a drink in hand and a kiss on the cheek. Together they put on a very cute show of young love for the Princes, and then later reunite to talk business. They discuss how things are looking good for Tom in the polls, and then Lydia does seem to express a genuine interest in something for the first time all night, and asks if they can dance. As it turns out, she really does like to dance. She also likes to needle Tom a little- she takes a risk in bringing up Amy at all, mostly so she can judge his reaction. Tom could have headed the whole thing off had he been able to shrug and go ‘who?’. Instead he reacts as if electrocuted, which really tells Lydia all she needs to know. Whoever this Amy Benson is, she and Tom have some unfinished business.  Lydia quickly changes the topic, sensing Tom’s not happy to have been asked about Amy, and tells him she’s missed him. Is this true? Tom seems doubtful, but they agree that love often revolves around people entering and leaving each other’s lives, only to pop back up again. Wow, what could that be foreshadowing?

[nightlight9]

Sterek Week 2019 Day Two: Lyrics and Quotes

Title: Darling Take My Hand

Song: Heads and Tails by Banners

Summary: In his youth, Stiles had never given much thought to getting married. There were too many other, more exciting things to think about. Then he met Lydia Martin, and things changed. Of course, he was never meant to be Lydia’s king, but that’s something that he’s okay with. More than okay actually. Because he gets to have this instead, and it’s perfect. 

Rating: G

AO3

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With everything you never really know

Whenever there is trouble on the road

Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll go

In his youth, Stiles had never really given much thought to getting married. There were too many other things to think about, like whether or not dinosaurs could exists again or where he could sign up to be a Jedi master. Marriage was a foreign idea that only registered when speaking about his parents and how perfect they were for each other or when he was forced to dress up and attend his cousin Marty’s wedding.  

Then he met Lydia Martin and things changed. His mom thought it was cute when he started imagining what their wedding would be like. She indulged Stiles by teaching him about flower bouquets, carefully constructing his ideal arrangement of red and pink roses bound together with lilies and one random sunflower (it was hideous but he was proud of it). She helped him bake a practice wedding cake, comforting him when it came out lopsided and less than perfect. To her, this was a child’s fantasy. It was a fun game to play with her son. But for Stiles, it was real. He knew that Lydia’s wedding would be a grand spectacle indeed, and he knew without a doubt that he would be standing at her side. 

Of course, he was wrong. While Lydia will always be his Queen, he was never destined to be her King. Her wedding was a fucking ball though, and he’s so proud that he at least got that right. 

But that’s fine. More than fine actually. It’s great. 

Because Stiles has something greater than a grand spectacle with Lydia Martin. He has a small backyard wedding with Derek Hale, and it’s better than he ever imagined. It’s perfect.

Derek smiles, small and almost shy as they take their places in the center of the makeshift dance floor in his dad’s backyard. There are bouquets of yellow roses and while lilies at each corner of the dance floor, put together by Lydia herself, and Stiles thinks that his dad’s backyard has never looked better. Not that he’s paying attention to that. His eyes are locked on Derek’s hand, on their matching rings, as he reaches out to pull Stiles close. It’s their first dance as a married couple, and Stiles has never been the weepy type, but as Isaac snaps pictures of them as the music cues up, he feels like he could cry he’s so happy.

Derek was put in charge of picking the music for their first dance, a task that seemed to frustrate him for weeks before he found the right song, and at first Stiles can’t figure out just what it is. As soon as he does though, tears tease the corner of his eyes. 

“Does this work?” Derek asks as the first note of “Heads and Tails” by Banners starts playing. His fingers clench against Stiles’ side, giving away his nerves that Stiles might actually say no. 

“It’s perfect,” Stiles whispers back. Because it it. Everything is. 

All you hear is emptiness and noise

Hanging on the fall of a coin

Whatever you choose, I’ll be with you

Around them, their friends and family watch them sway together. John is proud of his son, and so damn happy that he found someone that can make him feel truly alive. Despite the years of violence and danger that brought Derek and Stiles together, John knows with one hundred percent certainty that Derek will never let anything bad happen to Stiles. And that, coupled with the fact that they look at each other in the same way that John remembers looking at Claudia, is all that John has ever wanted. 

Beside him, Melissa wipes her eyes. Later, she’ll join Stiles on the dance floor for his mother-son dance. Even though she isn’t his biological mom, Melissa has always been there for him and he’s happy to share the moment with her in Claudia’s place. Derek won’t have a mother-son dance (though Melissa offered to be his stand-in too), but he will dance with Cora to his mother’s favorite song, and that will be enough. 

For now though, the moment belongs to Stiles and Derek. Stiles can’t stop smiling as he looks into Derek’s eyes. Gods, he didn’t know that it was possible to feel so warm. When he had asked Derek out two years earlier, he had expected to get shot down. Even with Kira’s assurance that Derek liked him and Lydia’s confidence that it would work out, Stiles thought that he didn’t have a chance. Instead, Derek ducked his head down to his chest to hide his smile in an act of shyness that Stiles wasn’t used to from him, and then he said yes. It was such a shock to Stiles that he stared at him for a full minute before asking if he was sure. And then Derek had rolled his eyes in a familiar way and that was that.

It wasn’t easy. Stiles isn’t sure that love is supposed to be even without werewolves and danger and near-death experiences. But they grew together, and by the time Beacon Hills finally calmed down enough that everyone in the pack could breathe without being concerned that their next breath might be their last, the bond between Derek and Stiles was unshakable. That being said, Stiles was still surprised when Derek got down on one knee one day after a normal dinner and pulled out a ring. It wasn’t a romantic setting in the least (Stiles was wearing a shirt with a stain on it for the Gods’ sake), but it was perfect for them: a little messy but filled with only the best intentions. Stiles said yes, and Derek asked if he was sure, and that was that. He never really expected a wedding, but he’s so glad that he let his dad talk him into one. Because swaying in Derek’s arms is something that he thinks he could probably do forever.

Hope in your tired eyes

Fight against the tide

Let it rise and fall and I’ll be here by your side

All I want to say is we’ll be okay

‘Cause we’ll hold it together, hold on together

“I love you,” Derek breathes. His voice is filled with awe and an overwhelming fondness that makes Stiles beam. 

“I love you more,” Stiles says, just to be a little shit. Instead of taking the bait and arguing with him like he has a thousand times before, Derek’s eyes flare blue. 

“I love you more than the moon.”

The words are said so honestly that Stiles actually chokes a little. Off to the side of the dance floor, Erica coos at them and Cora says ‘gross,’ even though it she sounds a little choked up too. 

Derek pays them no mind; he has eyes only for Stiles. “Alright,” Stiles sniffles, “you win this round.” Prodding gently at Derek’s chest, he smirks. “But don’t get used to it. Give me a little while and I’ll think of a clever comeback.”

Derek’s smile could light up the world. “I have no doubt about that, Husband.”

Husband. They’re married. Stiles gets to have Derek forever. He beams, then tucks his head down against Derek’s chest, letting the music and the pure feeling of the moment sweep him up. This is his forever, and it’s perfect.

Don’t lose your faith

It’s all just heads and tails

We’ll turn and face whatever comes our way