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pinkcarnatixns · 7 months ago

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georgia stanway | flowers for vases

synopsis georgia does her first tattoo on you, it leads to a confession after of years of feelings [1.6K] contents best friends to lovers, nervous georgia, tattooing, mentions of needles

You normally took pride in your fearlessness when it came to adding to your growing collection of ink on your skin, but now you were completely petrified.

When Georgia had first approached you to be her canvas for her very first tattoo on real skin, you had immediately agreed- your haste chalked up to a trust built on years of friendship and definitely not the fact you’d do anything she asked.

What your sometimes scatterbrained best friend had forgotten to mention was that this was not a private affair, but a moment that was going to be televised for all the nation to see. Of course, this meant that you’d have to act like you weren’t completely smitten with the woman- in front of a bunch of cameras while you tried to not blush at her hands on you.

Safe to say, you were quite ticked off with Georgia when you first arrived at the small tattoo studio’s address, only to be greeted with people rushing filming equipment inside the building from a van with a big ‘BBC’ plastered on the side. When you entered the studio with a quirked eyebrow and crossed arms, her face clearly dropped as she realized her mistake, rushing over to your side.

“I completely forgot to mention the filming part, didn’t I?” She pouts at you, grabbing a hold of your bicep to plead her case.

You sighed, “You know, I really thought this was a sweet gesture of trust between us, not to get you a big check from the BBC.”

At your jest, she deflated even further and you struggled to stop your lips from quirking up at her dramatics. You could never stay mad at her for very long, especially when she made you laugh just by being in the same room as her. Still, you were a bit mortified at the possible outing of your feelings for the girl being broadcast to the world, so you tried your best to hold your ground.

“It’s not like that at all! You know there’s nobody else I’d rather share this with, I swear!” She held onto your biceps tightly, and you felt your resolve washing away like a sand castle with the wave of her cologne that hit your nose.

Her hands were trembling lightly, and at her gaze and proximity you quickly turned shy, only managing to mumble out, “You don’t mind sharing it with everyone in the nation, clearly.”

However, taking pity on her already clearly fried nerves, you followed the snark up with a playful eye roll and returned her gaze. “Well, since I’m here, let’s see what you’re going to put on my body forever.”

Her already big brown eyes seemed to light up at your compliance, and she gently pulled on your forearms to uncross them with a blinding smile. She effortlessly initiated the intertwining of your hands, nearly dragging your shocked form to the ground with her fervor to show you what she had drawn.

She got shy as you both approached her already prepped little work table, going quiet as you peered down at the paper and leaning into your body for comfort. The warmth that spread through your body at your still entwined hands creeped all the way up to your ears at what she had designed just for you: a little broken flower vase.

When you two had first met as kids, Georgia, persistent to impress you with her football skills- had wrongly decided to do so inside your house. When this naturally ended in the broken heirloom, and your mother’s harsh scolding, you had taken the fall for the overexcitable girl. She had been inconsolable at the mess she had caused, promising to make up for it someday. To this day, she still felt guilty for the incident while you often brought it up, joking that she was only still by your side to repay her debt.

Through all the growing pains and hard times, you had stuck by each other’s sides. Even when you got into fights, one of you would always bring up the vase as an olive branch, knowing that it really meant that you could never get rid of one another.

Your eyes got misty, your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the hustle and bustle around you two, “Georgia, that’s so sweet- you sap.”

“You really like it? Don’t lie.” Her hand nervously fiddled with the rings that adorned yours, both of you refusing to meet each other’s eyes. In a moment of bravery, you pecked her on the cheek and rested your head on her slightly taller shoulder.

“I love it. Can’t wait to have it on me forever.” You punctuated the genuine words with a squeeze to your intertwined hands, hoping to calm her nerves with the action.

She stumbled a bit over her sentence, before forcing it out nearly too fast for you to catch it, “There’s three flowers on one side and then one on the other. Y’know like 31, like my number at Bayern.”

Your head jumped off your shoulder, gaping at her as she was locked in a staring contest with the table- cheeks red like she had just played a full 90. With your heartbeat nearly breaking at the confines of your ribcage, you decided to lean into the moment, tripping over your words a bit but whispering. “That’s perfect. I like it even more now.”

At your reassurance, she shyly met your sincere gaze, struggling to keep a goofy smile subdued as you nodded at each other.

Your little bubble was broken when a crew member called for her presence, apologizing for interrupting as he dragged her over for an interview. You watched on with hearts in your eyes as she spoke to the camera, her sincere appreciation for the art shining through with every word and the sparkle in her eye. Caught up in watching her, you barely realized when they had wrapped up, rushing over to her side after missing your name being called a couple times.��

They perched you up on a stool for her to place the stencil on your calf, sighing in relief as it peeled off exactly as she wanted it. She gently held your hand to help you down, using it to guide you over to the table while instructing you to lay down comfortably.

When she actually starts dancing the needle over your skin and attempting to answer questions at the same time, she clearly struggles. Nearly every time she punctures your flesh, she can’t help but look to you for your reaction- scared to hurt you. You try not to laugh as her sentences trail off again and again as she continually locks eyes with you, knowing she’s going to make the editor’s job a nightmare. As she nears finishing, you try to shoot her encouraging smiles, wishing you could tell her how good she was doing if not for the mics that would pick it up.

The tattoo takes quite long for how simple the design is, partly due to her insistence on doing everything right, stopping for the littlest things. It’s sweet that she’s so adamant to not hurt you or have the ink blow out, but it’s pretty comical and clear that the camera crew is getting antsy. You are happy to sit for as long as she needs, content with the heat of her palm through her gloves soothing the ache of the needle, but try to silently encourage her in order to get everyone out on time.

As she takes the final swipe of a paper towel over your skin and declares that she’s finished with a shaky breath, the first thing she does is to once again look at you. She visibly relaxes as you send her a beaming smile, taking your hands to move you to sit upright. You admire her work as she turns to give you her water bottle, watching you like a hawk as you take a sip.

You get shy at her attention, “I’m not going to pass out you know, I’m literally covered in tattoos already.”

“You’re really feeling alright? We can take pictures after you have a second, yeah?”

“Georgia really, you look much more lightheaded than me. You did great, I promise.” As you try to scoot off the bench, her hands stop you- pinning your thighs to the table. The position forces her to lean closer to you, putting you at eye level with one another. She has a certain determination in her eyes, but is clearly quite mortified at the proximity her actions have caused.

Still, with her big brown eyes boring into yours, slightly rough palms on your naked thighs, and the slight dizziness that you do feel- you look around the room to see everyone busy packing up before you do something drastic. As you turn back to her soft gaze, a slight tilt to her head and a quick glance at your lips is all the encouragement you need.

Your hands cover hers, desperate for something to ground you as you lean in to peck her lips. At your slight movement, she excitedly surges forward and you clash much harder than you had expected.

Pulling away, you’re both reduced to hysterics at the release of the tension that the day caused, and for finally giving in to a moment to had both waited for all your lives. Who knew it would take her marking you forever for you both to make a move.

a/n: wow so sorry I have not uploaded in forever! midterms absolutely kicked my butt and then I was celebrating my birthday! anyways I'm not super happy with this but I hope yall enjoyed <3

my requests are still open and i will really try to be much quicker in getting to them lol

#georgia stanway #georgia stanway x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #georgia stanway fluff #woso

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vanteguccir · 9 months ago

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── ୨୧ !　𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗗

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N is part of the Sturniolo Triplets fandom and makes videos about them on TikTok. After years of creating content, one of her videos seems to catch the attention of none other than Chris.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, from anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N².: I used this tiktoker as an inspiration for the content that the reader creates on this.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was true that the Sturniolo Triplets fandom grew so much in such a short time thanks to the fans themselves, who play a big role in bringing the channel to other people through social media - mainly TikTok. It was also true that, at least 90% of this part of the fandom works with edits of different types of the boys; compilation of parts from a certain video or podcast, edits and even memes.

But there was a small portion that made videos talking about the boys, showing their faces and voices while explaining their content, work and even giving tips on how the triplets themselves could increase their audience or improve their brands.

And Y/N was part of this small portion, having been in the fandom since mid-2021 and not missing any videos of the triplets, she could talk about them for hours on end.

Her biggest hobby was making videos giving ideas for their channel and brands: some brands they could collab with, theme ideas for car videos, topics for podcasts, prints for hoodie sets and t-shirts - both for the triplets' brand and for Fresh Love -, different flavors and themes for Space Camp, and so on.

The girl applied all her love and knowledge to all her videos, editing the backgrounds and explaining her ideas with the smallest details, making them understandable. She had perfect lighting, audio, and set equipment for her work, which made the quality equally good as her content.

Her trademark was her strawberry frappuccino, which she was always drinking every time she turned on her phone camera. Fans joked that her obsession with the drink was like Chris's obsession with Pepsi.

And all that was exactly why fans loved her so much. Y/N had more than 400 thousand followers on her TikTok account and all her videos reached an average of 150 thousand likes, in addition to the many comments saying how smart she was for having those ideas, her kindness in sharing them with the public and even complementing her beauty.

The girl spent hours of her day reading each one of them and interacting with fans as if they were best friends, always being very kind. She laughed her ass off at the comments from people who madly tagged the boys, especially Chris, as it was a well-known fact that he was her favorite - she loved to make that very clear.

Some fans even went so far as to say that if Chris was ever ready to get romantically involved with someone again, they wanted it to be with Y/N. The girl read that type of comment with a huge smile on her face and red cheeks, feeling honored. Although she imagined that the boys would never even notice her, she allowed herself to travel through the world of delusion from time to time.

So it was an understandment to say that she was super surprised when, after waking up on a typical Saturday and picking up her phone for the first time in the day before even getting out of bed - a bad habit of hers -, she saw the notifications in triple the volume of its normal.

She felt dizzy with so much information, trying to find in the midst of so many comments and messages what was really happening.

Finally, after traveling between her TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter for long minutes, she finally found it.

Chris Sturniolo had commented on her last video.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

It was Friday, and the triplets had just returned home after finishing recording their new car video that would be posted in a few hours.

Chris was currently lying in his bed, the lights in his room dimmed, and the low noise coming from his phone filling the four walls.

The brunette was just getting ready to take a shower minutes ago, having opened his TikTok and scrolling through his For You for a few minutes, about to take off his clothes used in the filming, when a video of an unknown girl talking about himself caught his attention.

It was very normal to have videos of and about himself on his For You, after all, the hours over the last few years that he spent liking one video or another showed the algorithm that he liked this type of content. Edits and memes of him alone or with his brothers filled his app, and he spent enough time watching, laughing, liking, and, sometimes, reposting some of them.

But it wasn't normal for him to have a completely unknown person talking directly about him, with her face and voice exposed for the world while doing it. And what surprised him most was what she was talking about, that specific video being about different prints and colors that he could use in the next Fresh Love collection.

His blue eyes lingered too long on the girl's face, admiring her features, her sweet voice serving as a melody for his ears.

When Chris dragged his thumb from the right to the left of his screen, entering the girl's profile, he finally noticed her name.

"Y/N." His voice came out in a whisper, enjoying more than necessary how the name slipped off his tongue so easily.

His fingers wandered across the screen, going from one video to another, listening to the ideas carefully - even writing some down on his Notes app -, saving some in a separate folder and browsing the comments, only then realizing that practically all of them were from fans tagging him.

Laughter escaped his lips at some of the jokes the girl made every now and then, while fascination filled his eyes with the effort she put into each idea.

The sound of knocking against his bedroom door startled him, his body jumping as he turned sharply towards the source of it, Matt's head appearing between his door and the frame, his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes traveled around the room briefly.

"You've been listening to this girl for so many hours that I thought she was here with you." Matt commented, opening the door wider and approaching Chris.

The youngest of the triplets rolled his eyes, suppressing the urge to lock his phone screen and keep Y/N all to himself, but she was well known in the fandom and her videos were about him and his brothers, the possibility of her content getting to them as quickly as it got to him was huge.

"It's a girl who appeared on my For You today. She makes videos of ideas for our channel and brands, can you believe it?" Chris looked at Matt as he showed his phone screen with Y/N's profile open. His eyes were wide with fascination, and his lips stretched into an enthusiastic smile.

Matt observed him for a few seconds, noticing his body language and the way he spoke about the girl, it was different from all the other times the boy commented about tiktokers or videos others made about them.

"Send me a video of her, I'll take a look later. Now go upstairs, I bought us something to eat."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Another Monday had arrived, and Y/N was looking for strength in her body to get out of bed and face another start of the week.

The thought that in a few hours, she would have a brand new Sturniolo Triplets podcast was what made her tackle her tasks.

Her eyes traveled to the time on her phone and to her notification bar every 10 minutes, as if she was expecting Nick to release the podcast earlier than usual - it was obvious that that wasn't going to happen.

After last Saturday, where she had woken up to a comment from none other than Christopher Sturniolo, her weekend was complete madness.

She spent hours staring at the little comment as her mind tried to process whether she was actually awake or still asleep and in a very good dream.

"loved the idea! it's noted ;)"

"it's noted"? What did that even mean? Did he actually write down her idea for future use? Should she be prepared to wake up some other day and see that he has launched a new collection with something she suggested in one of her videos?

And what made her go crazy the most was that Chris Sturniolo had seen her face, and not only that, he found her attractive enough and her idea creative enough to watch it until the end.

She spent almost the entire previous two days waiting for him to comment again, or even like one of her videos, but that didn't happen. Instead, Y/N received thousands of comments from fans going crazy with her about what happened. At least she had a good laugh with them.

Now, she was in her bedroom, the light from the movie playing on the TV was the only source of illumination. Y/N was lying in her bed, already in her pajamas and with her pre-bed cup of cappuccino on her lap, keeping her legs warm, her eyes on the television, but her mind somewhere else.

The sound of the YouTube notification came from her phone and Y/N had never moved so quickly, her hand taking the device out of her bedside table and unlocking the screen while muting the television, clicking on it with her thumb without even looking at the other notifications.

Her fingers worked on increasing the volume and screen brightness, setting it to the best resolution and getting comfortable on her bed, preparing to stay in that position for the next hour.

The podcast was already at minute 35, and Y/N felt her cheeks hurting from how much she was laughing at the topics brought up by the boys. Nick was especially funny that day, making Chris and Matt laugh at every moment.

In addition to the senseless fights that would arise between the three of them out of nowhere, which made Y/N roll her eyes playfully, already accustomed to their way with each other.

Until her big smile was replaced by an expression of a mixture of fright and surprise.

"Can we take a moment to talk about the intense crush Chris developed this weekend?" Nick interrupted Matt's laughter, taking a sip of his Doctor Pepper.

Chris turned abruptly to his brother, his eyes wide at the comment as he shook his head, almost begging through telepathy for him not to talk about that.

"It's true, Chris spent the weekend obsessing over a fan of ours who makes videos on TikTok with different ideas for our channel." Matt agreed, looking briefly at Nick while his hands moved the microphone support, pressing his lips together as he tried to suppress his laughter at Chris's reaction.

"Yeah, she is super pretty, and her ideas are very interesting. I think I only saw her profile once, but I listened to all her videos through Chris's phone." Nick continued, raising his right hand and directing his palm towards Chris, pretending to cover his figure with it and ignoring his desperate expression. "He literally spent the entire weekend watching her."

"Her name is Y/N. Search for her guys. We might even use one of her ideas on our next podcast." Matt added, his voice coming out low despite his mouth being almost glued to the microphone.

"You guys are horrible, I hate you." Despite the distance, the camera lens that focused on Chris's image captured his red cheeks as he tried to suppress a smile at the thought of the girl who took over his thoughts, rolling his eyes to his brothers.

"Now he will be silent for the next 10 minutes." Nick continued, amusement in his voice as he picked up his Space Camp watermelon lip balm, playing with the object in his hands.

"He's in love Nick, give him some credit." Matt mocked alongside the oldest triplet, a small smile on his face as his eyes watched his brother's reaction.

"Okay, next topic." Chris interrupted loudly, his voice cracking with embarrassment. He raised his arms and moved them from side to side exasperatedly, earning laughter from the other two, before Nick briefly passed his eyes on the document open on his laptop, starting the next topic.

"Oh my God." Y/N whispered, clicking once on the screen and dragging the small ball in the bottom bar to the left, going back a few minutes of the podcast and rewatching that specific part.

The girl repeated that action at least three more times, her brain still processing that Chris Sturniolo had been watching her TikToks all weekend - as if she were some kind of famous artist - and that, apparently, he was developing a mini crush on her as well.

Her heart was beating too fast to be normal as her cheeks burned, a red tinge taking over her skin. Goosebumps ran through her body as her fingers trembled slightly. Her jaw was already hurting from the time she held her mouth open, but no sound escaped from it.

A notification suddenly appearing at the top of the screen caught her eye, her right hand instantly flying to her mouth while her left hand lowered her phone, resting the device on her mattress.

Her eyes were now fixed on the wall in front of her bed, as her mind screamed at herself.

christopherturniolo sent you a direct message.

"hey!"

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causenessus · 5 months ago

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love notes

part 0.05. intros.

EXHIBIT ONE: COFFEE ENTHUSIASTS

l/n y/n °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

college student majoring in photography <3 also works at onigiri miya on the side but spends a lot of her time doing client portraits and taking photos in her free time to add to her portfolio and get experience. really enjoys taking photos of street art, including graffiti and interactive pieces because she thinks they have so much meaning and significance. wanders around with suna a lot as they look for more art. went to itachiyama and knows sakusa the best but they both became good friends with inarizaki because atsumu would always bring osamu and suna with him to visit them in high school. y/n would sneak glances at suna when she thought he wasn’t looking but was always too nervous to say anything. in college, they grew closer and things became more comfortable as their friend groups hanged out more. she's allowed suna on her private account because it's where she posts most of her thoughts since her main account has to be dedicate to photography.

akaashi keiji & sakusa kiyoomi °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

akaashi

double majoring in literature and photography <3 whenever their classes assign group projects, akaashi, y/n, and kenma usually all work together. even on individual assignments, they usually go out together to keep each other company while they find their focuses <3 but he’s really going thru it, spends a lot of his time and money in coffee shops (and takes advantage of getting free food at onigiri miya). doesn’t have a very big booking schedule for client photography because he’s so busy but he’s always booked because people are obsessed with how good his eyes and skills at editing photos are. met and got to know y/n at the high school games between fukurodani and itachiyama when she would come to take photos of the volleyball team for publicity.

omi

wing spiker for the msby college volleyball team and majoring in athletic training. frequents onigiri miya but will only eat what y/n or osamu makes. he definitely grew close to y/n and trusts her because she’s just as much of a clean freak as him. their first interaction went something along the lines of her watching someone on the vball team trip on her equipment bag and her coming up to sakusa saying “your teammate just touched my bag with his dirty sweaty shoe and now i have to sanitize it. please tell them to stay away from my stuff.” and he was immediately sold. sometimes feels like the caretaker of his group, making sure everyone’s taking care of themselves because akaashi and y/n often get in the habit of partnering together to make bad decisions or locking themselves in a room to cram for classes

miya osamu & kozume kenma °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

osamu

went on a whim and started onigiri miya while also going to school for a degree in hospitality. works most nights with yn allowing them to grow pretty close. in high school, she also felt the most comfortable with him out of all the inarizaki boys and he would tell her all kinds of stories about suna because he could see how she looked at him. they still usually gossip while they work together and he definitely enables her whenever she feels like doing something (as long as it’s not harmful to herself or detrimental to her future!!!). whenever msby travels to away games, he usually gets the chance to set up a stand outside the court and will leave yn in charge of the tokyo location. is also close besties with akaashi because they share an immense love for food and has given him a free pass to eat there whenever he wants (atsumu on the other hand pays and sometimes gets a discount, usually only if yn is the one taking his order bc she feels bad for him)

kenma

photography major and part time streamer. literally is the only reason yn and akaashi have good cameras because he’ll give them his old ones whenever he buys a new one or will buy them equipment they need as a present. (in return) yn and akaashi definitely help him in general classes. feeds and has basically adopted a cat that somehow climbs their window sill everyday. he’s like the keeper of his dorm because he’s always home so whenever someone is out and has forgotten something, they’ll always spam kenma asking him to “pretty please” bring it to them. posts a lot of the photos he takes on his main twitter account. definitely takes a lot of street photography and spends more time editing photos that people send in but sometimes does portraits if requested.

extras <3

yn, akaashi, sakusa, and kenma all live together

osamu doesn’t pay rent but he’s often over bc he doesn’t want to be amidst the chaos of his actual roomates

kenma’s been forced to keep his depression clutter limited to his room because sakusa and y/n are both clean freaks

(sometimes if he lets her, y/n will come in to help him organize and clean his room)

sakusa often ends up cooking for everyone to eat because he knows no one will eat if they have to make something themselves

his one rule is you cannot be in the kitchen as the same time as him or he will stare you down

y/n usually just makes something for herself at onigiri miya but she’ll always take sakusa’s cooking over it

do not come at me abt how the real world works with businesses please 😭 let me be

taglist: @wyrcan @oyasumeii @froyaoya @gyuijns @nbcvs (form to be added to taglist! <3)

m.list | next

#suna rintarou #rintarou suna #suna #sunarin #suna x reader #suna smau #suna x reader smau #haiykuu smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader

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zhivaoverdrive · 1 year ago

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Saline Thief, 1

"They're obviously familiar with the facility... must be a patient" said Dr Chen, matter of factly.

"Or the cleaning crew?" replied nurse Laura, leaning in closer and speaking under their breath.

"Impossible. Use your eyes. Do any of the cleaning girls have tits bigger than their head?" Nurse Laura giggled softly as she looked at the camera feed again. They wished.

Dr Chen flicked through the viewfinder, bringing up the many images of the offender captured over several different nights in the last month, ultimately culminating in the current witch hunt.

"So, to recap what we know:

Our mysterious friend arrives after midnight, unlocks the storage entrance *AND* disables the alarm. The pharmacy is untouched, as is the safe and the expensive equipment. In fact nothing appears to removed at all" Dr Chen said.

Nurse Laura nodded and smiled.

"If we look specifically at last night's intrusion..." Dr Chen continued, scrolling through and isolating a few images. "2.32am, our guest first appears, face partially covered, it seems like she knows the camera is there. Next we've got her coming down the hallway towards the suites. We lose her here, hundreds of hours of footage, but..." Dr Chen trailed off as she pulled up the final capture.

"Whoa! Holy shit!" burst out Nurse Laura. "Mmm-huh. So we know what she stole. And that was just this time" said Dr Chen, nodding. "How much do you think she... took?" said Nurse Laura coyly. "That better be professional interest I hear in your voice. We don't exactly keep inventory of the stuff, but from visuals alone, I'd have to say 15-20 litres this time" replied Dr Chen "Wow! And to do it herself..." swooned Nurse Laura, the admiration clear in her voice.

"...Ahem. Now do you have any idea where she disappeared to in the middle, nurse?" said Dr Chen sternly.

She was going to catch some flak for this, there could be no doubt. The spare room in C building may have been an open secret, but Nurse Laura didn't want to be the one who spilled it. It was a perk of the job, cosmetic surgery was expensive, but the staff here could help each other out...

"Nurse?" Dr Chen’s voice cut in.

"Oh uhh, can I have a look on that thing?" said nurse Laura sweetly.

As she flicked 'randomly' through the camera feeds, the anticipation to see the intruder's antics continued to swell inside her 20 litres each…

"Ohh, is this her?" she chirped, looking up from her diligent search to catch the bosses eye.

The screen showed a 5x playback of the spare room. Splayed on the floor was their intruder, now completely topless, surrounded with bags of saline. Between sudden bursts of motion as she swapped bags were long intervals as she sat perfectly still... But in the accelerated playback of the footage, both Dr Chen and Nurse Laura could see her breasts slowly inflating, taking on more mass as they billowed outwards.

"My my, wasn't she busy. Know how long she was in there for?" said Dr Chen. Nurse Laura hit fast forward again, moving to 10x and then 20x playback speed. The intruder's ritual continued, brief spurts of motion followed by what was now very visible growth, her breasts now far larger than when she came in.

"Looks like about 2 hours? Wow!" said Nurse Laura. "Play the end, normal speed" said Dr Chen calmly. —

Amy flipped the now empty box over in frustration, flinging it out of the way. Reaching behind her, she removed what she knew were the final two bags and heaved herself to her feet. Once standing, she wobbled, the extra 30 or so kg of saline in her chest taking some getting used to. God you've overdone it this time. You still need to walk out of here you idiot. Rigging up the last two bags, Amy closed her eyes and moaned. It would all work itself out, she got what she came for. —

"I know who it is," said Dr Chen.

"Oh? Really! I can't wait to- er, catch her" said Nurse Laura.

Scrolling through a calendar on her phone, Dr Chen chuckled. "You won't need to wait long. She's booked in for Thursday" she said, showing her phone to the nurse.

Scheduled 4500-5000cc fill. High risk patient. Begged to accelerate schedule multiple times, denied due to very little natural breast tissue. Concerns over obsessive desire to disregard safe filling practices.

#breastexpansion #breastimplants #saline #silicone #expanderimplants

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rdng1230 · 4 months ago

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Sal Deluca Meta

Okie dokie here we go. Just remember y'all asked for this.

Here are some repeated talking points I’ve seen about Sal and why I think most of them are ignoring certain contexts or misattributing things to Sal that were said/done by somebody else. Also just general thoughts about our little mook.

Hen Begins

That Sal was a raging racist/sexist/homophobic.

Let’s deal with the first one first. Is he a member of the white boys club? Absolutely. He makes no effort to include Hen and doesn’t really acknowledge her at all until he’s complimenting her for her skills at the end of the episode. This is OBVIOUSLY not good. He should’ve been kinder and more welcoming to her. But the only one who specifically makes negative/mean comments about Hen is Gerrard and Tommy. Literally the only thing you could even interpret that way is him saying “for real?” to Gerrard’s diversity hire comment and the fact that he drops the pick axe or whatever the hell that metal thing was on the floor along with everybody else besides Chim. Not great, but also with what we know about how other rookies are treated even by Hen herself, I don’t think any of this behavior falls into “irredeemable racist monster” Buck chased Ravi with a chainsaw for christ sake.

Ok now the sexism. He actually stares daggers at Gerrard for the entirety of his stupid “waste of taxpayer money/women won’t be able to rescue my guys” spiel. Like the camera specifically focuses on Sal looking pissed as hell. Another thing I’ve heard falsely said is that after Gerrard storms off, Sal/Tommy follow him. That’s not true. They do get up and leave but they actually leave in the ass opposite direction. Sal’s face when he signals to Tommy to get up reads to me as “let’s get the hell away from the fallout of that grossness.” not “I agree with what that dinosaur just said.” But I also realize people can interpret that moment differently.

I think the sexist reading largely comes from the Kristen Stewart conversation. And come on, This is the lesbian website, if we start dinging people for finding Kristen Stewart attractive, we’re all going down. Plus again, Buck was STEALING EMERGENCY EQUIPMENT TO GO GET LAID AND HE’S EVERYBODY’S FAV SO I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT. We see Sal kind of ignore Hen but also agree with her at the same time during this exchange. Again a case of Sal not really acknowledging Hen but not attacking her either. Go and look at his face when Tommy says that NY bitchiness comment. Sal does not look at all happy with him. Most of the time when anyone is being actively mean Sal looks pissed off, not approving.

Ok now the homophobia thing. And it's at this point I’m going to bring up the idea that some characters seem bad/good not based on their actions but on whose perspective we’re viewing those actions from. I see this being a problem with several characters. Most notably Taylor Kelly. But that's a whole other post.

Sal’s team Jacob comment is homophobic and gross but it's also 1) 2009 and 2) directed at someone who he clearly knows incredibly well and who we KNOW gives as good as he gets. I easily could’ve seen this interaction reversed with Tommy saying that to Sal because that's who they are and how their friendship works. But because we’re seeing this from Hen’s perspective it's another thing that makes her feel isolated and othered. And again THAT IS NOT GOOD SAL SHOULD NOT BE DOING THAT. But I don’t think Sal at all said that with the intention of putting Hen down, it very clearly reads to me as Sal teasing/riling Tommy up as they always have. Now obviously the harm still hits even if the intent wasn’t present. But I think if we can forgive Tommy for comments that were MEANT to be mean, then we can forgive Sal for comments that were just him fucking around with his best friend of several years.

That Sal was the ringleader or Gerrard’s right hand man

Does Sal have a sort of in charge vibe? Yeah absolutely. But very notably the only thing he actually initiates is the olive branch. It’s him that offers a hand to Hen and says nice job and you’re good at what you do. I also will die on the hill that the hemorrhoid complaint was his. Chim would definitely say that but not in an official report, Tommy would definitely bad mouth Gerrard, but not like that. Now who is known for kind of cruder language and a short fuse and absolutely would put that down in an official report? Sal motherfucking Deluca that’s who.

One notable thing that I find interesting is that Hen herself distinguishes Gerrard’s behavior from the rest of the team's. She definitely gives them hell during her big speech but when Chim does dishes with her she specifically says men like him not men like them. Just something I realized on my most recent rewatch.

To summarize, the only real thing Sal did that was unique to him (because they all failed to stick up for Hen, yes even Chim. Chim was nice to her but he never actually stood up for her to Gerrard’s face. He tried to redirect the conversation a couple times but that was it.) was the Kristen stewart comments and the Team Jacob comment. I would argue Tommy’s comments in Chimney begins and his NY bitchiness comment in Hen Begins are way more targeted, hateful, and fucking rude. (said with all love because we know Tommy had a bunch of growth and change and became the man we all know and adore.) IMO nothing in Hen begins that Sal says/does is as bad as what Tommy did/said.

Bobby Begins Again

Ok another reason why I don’t think Sal is this irredeemable sexist/racist/homophobic pig is WHY ON EARTH WOULD HEN STAND UP FOR HIM IF HE WAS???!?!?!? Hen is THE FIRST PERSON TO CALL OUT THAT CRAP even from the first episode she says something like “why is that always the first instinct with you whiteboy macho types?” So why why why why would she stand up for Sal if he hadn’t shown any improvement in that area in the now 7 years minimum that she’s worked with him. Answer: she fucking wouldn’t. Ok moving on.

The Bobby stuff

So remember how I said perspective changes everything? This is the major reason why. We as the audience love Bobby and know intimately the struggles he’s faced, so we’re naturally going to be angered by anyone who is antagonistic towards him. The thing is Sal doesn’t know ANY of that. This is what Sal knows about Bobby.

He’s from somewhere in middle America and has never worked in a MAJOR American city like LA/NYC. That’s it. He COMPLETELY ACCURATELY I MIGHT ADD predicts that anybody with that background will struggle to adapt to the specifics of LA. It’s Sal that has to pick up Bobby’s slack as he adjusts, calling out the shots at the tree trimmer call, taking the initiative with Maurice even though Bobby does ultimately do the saving. (Which Sal actually seems impressed by btw.) Bobby still can’t even read the city map when they pull up to the restaurant fire call.

Now imagine you’re Sal. First you had Gerrard as captain, who (I think it's fair to say) you DID NOT LIKE. One of the things he did was put down firefighters who disobeyed orders by rescuing people. We saw this with the “fetching a tide” call and with saving the boy in the submerged car. Hen disobeyed orders but showed real skill as a firefighter. And all she got for her troubles was being berated by her Captain.

Ok then after Gerrard you have an interim captain that seems like a decent dude, but he leaves and for a while you have a revolving door of retiring brass that are checked out, behind the times, or just generally disengaged. You become used to filling in as captain and get actually pretty damn good at managing the team. (I say this because Sal leads the team several times in BBA and nobody looks at all like this is a new development) Then they finally pick a nobody who has never worked in a proper city before and to you he’s just the newest asshole that will probably screw up and get someone killed. Sal has no idea about the challenges or traumas Bobby has had to face, just like we have no idea what might have happened in the 5+ years between HB and BBA. Sal has probably MANY REASONS not to trust Bobby that we don’t know about.

So how would you feel after you’ve successfully rescued a teenage boy’s life, if your new captain who you’ve known for like a day and still doesn’t even know how to get the engine to calls on time, calls YOU stupid for SUCCESSFULLY SAVING A CHILD’S LIFE. I think you’d be likely to blow up a little too.

Was Sal a hothead? Absolutely. Was he being smart by mouthing off to Bobby? Absolutely not. But I think his lines to Bobby during that scene are so telling. “You’re just the latest jag off in a long line of jag offs to come to this house and think you know how to run it.” In other words, he’s not really seeing Bobby during this exchange (he couldn’t possibly, Bobby is still being very closed off and won’t tell anyone what his story is for years) he’s seeing the long line of assholes that started with Gerrard that Bobby is unknowingly falling into the pattern of. Just like how Bobby didn’t really see Sal and one relatively tiny restaurant, he saw his wife and family and a massive apartment building with no way out. That to me is the tragedy of Bobby and Sal. I genuinely think they could’ve learned a lot from each other if they had left their baggage at the door.

In other words, would we judge Sal if he had gone after Gerrard in the way he went after Bobby? I doubt it. And that to me is what Sal is actually doing, going after Gerrard and all the other nameless asshole captains he’s been dealing with for YEARS. Sal was hotheaded and impulsive, but at the end of the day I think he was just dealing with misplaced anger that he put on Bobby, something both Buck and Eddie have done at some point or another even when they DID have all the information. If you can forgive the lawsuit arc, and Eddie’s comments in season 5 about Bobby’s kill count than dear god I think Sal has more than earned a pass.

Overarching things I find interesting about Sal that I don’t see anyone talking about

He cares a lot about the people they save on rescues, he’s the one on the majority of calls saying some variant of “its gonna be ok/we’re gonna get you out/don’t worry. Whatever the firefighter equivalent of bedside manner is, this guy has it.

His personal code of who he gives a shit about seems to boil down entirely to who has skills/is talented and who isn’t. The minute Hen shows real promise by saving that little boy, he is down there hand shaking and complimenting her. Ditto Freddie Costas. “Smart kid, probably saved his own life with that move.” You see this in his conversation with Bobby too “that wasn’t luck man that was skill.” You have to earn Sal’s respect and the way you do is by demonstrating competence. Sal genuinely does look impressed with Bobby for apprehending Maurice and showing ingenuity, the problem is it's immediately undercut when Bobby belittles him for saving the kid.

Anywho, that’s my Sal defense thesis. There’s probably other stuff I forgot but that's the bulk of it. I reserve the right to randomly reblog this with any other shit that comes to mind. Also as a disclaimer I still LOVE reading toxic Sal or asshole Sal content, absolutely eat it up with a spoon gimme gimme gimme. But I think it would be unfair to say that’s the ONLY read of him. He clearly does give a shit and is capable of growth and change, he just also happens to have a short fuse and very little willingness to go about things in a tactful way.

TLDR: free my man, he did do some of that shit but so did your blorbos, it's just your blorbos had the narrative on their side when they did it.

#sal deluca #Tommy kinard #911 meta

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demonic0angel · 7 months ago

Text

What if Jazz replaced Dan in another timeline?

CW: attempted murder via strangulation

Also on AO3 here :)

"Could you leave me alone?!" Danny shouted. "Stay out of my business!"

Jazz looked affronted. "How can I stay out of your business if I'm also part of your business?!"

Sputtering, he cried out, “Just— Just leave me alone!”

“No! You’re not taking the proper safety precautions! You’re going to get hurt one of these days and I’ll laugh in your face! You’re always so reckless! It’s not my fault that I have to watch over you!”

His eye twitched as he crossed his arms. “I’m not a baby anymore! You can’t control me like you used to when I was a kid! I’m a teenager and I’m way more powerful than you! I don’t need you to watch over me!”

“Danny! Don’t be so stubborn!” She insisted. “I’m just asking you to be safe!”

“I said. I. Don’t. Need it!!”

Danny had enough and stormed away from her. Jazz cried out, "Get back over here!" but he ignored her and continued walking.

He ran into his room and threw himself on his bed. He stretched out his hand, went partial ghost, and then locked his door. However, Jazz didn't follow him inside.

Danny groaned, burying himself in his pillow. He loved his sister, but sometimes, her love for him was just too overbearing! He couldn't stand the feeling of being watched over and babied like she had always done since he was a child, but he quickly realized that he had probably overreacted. Danny grimaced, realizing that he would have to apologize to his sister soon, but he was mentally exhauated.

Just as he pushed the idea of apologizing to her to later in the back of his mind, his phone rang. He picked it up with an exhausted, “Hello?”

“Dang, Danny, what’s going on with you?” Tucker asked, sounding concerned and also amused. He was holding his camera in one hand while the other held the phone to his face.

Danny groaned. “Jazz is being a total control freak again! I can’t even go out without her having to force more equipment onto me! I’m sick and tired of her always being in my business!”

“Dude, that sucks, but she’s looking out for you! Cut her some slack.”

“I know, but it’s so annoying. I wish she could understand that I’m not a baby anymore.”

Tucker hummed. “Mhm.”

Danny huffed and although Tucker’s expression didn’t show it, he realized that he was bringing down the mood somewhat.

“How’s Boston?” He asked.

“It’s cool,” Tucker said with a smile. “Do you want a pen or a keychain for your souvenir?”

“Oh screw you!” Danny laughed, pretending to be annoyed by the lackluster presents.

The phone beeped again, and Sam jumped into the call. “What’s up?” She said, a pair of sunglasses on her nose while a wide brimmed sun hat covered her face in shadows.

Danny sighed, reminded even more of the fact that his two and only best friends were on vacation. Even Valerie couldn’t spend time with him, too busy working for an internship under her dad.

Danny’s own parents were in Virginia, trekking on the Appalachian mountains to find more ghosts.

So basically, Danny was alone. With his sister.

Great.

“Oh! Sam! How’s Greece?”

“It’s great. I’ll bring you guys here in a few weeks,” she promised, turning her camera around so they could also take a view of the busy streets.

Tucker put his hands together and pretended to pray to her. “Oh, great Sugar Mommy Sam, please deliver us to Greece soon.”

“Never mind. Tucker, you’re staying home. I’m taking Danny and the two of us are going to eat souvlaki and seafood, look at Ancient Greek monuments, and learn about the lives of the fallen gods without you.”

Tucker gave a cry of pretend panic and Danny laughed too, already comforted by the sound of his two best friends and putting away the thought of Jazz.

They chatted for a few more minutes before Sam and Tucker had to leave, although not before promising to bring him souvenirs.

Danny laughed and smiled but when they left, it slipped off of his face. He sighed, pressing his head down onto his pillow again, dropping his phone carelessly.

Was a single summer without anyone bothering him too much to ask?

After a while, as Danny lazed about, he finally got up to get lunch.

When he went down to the kitchen, Jazz was sitting at the table, a book open in front of her alongside two plates of food. The one that wasn't directly in front of her was underneath a Fenton™ heating lamp.

Now the guilt mixed together with the irritation.

He knew that he was supposed to apologize, but he couldn't help the hostility that rose up in him. No matter how much he felt guilty, he refused to back down. Danny stomped to his seat, pulling back the chair and taking the plate. Then he began eating without saying a word.

Jazz peeked at him from behind her book a few times.

Danny scowled before looking up. "What?"

She hesitated, and then finally said, "Danny, you know that I love you, right?"

Oh Ancients, here she went again.

Danny loved his sister, but he couldn't stand how she tried to act better than him simply because she had more "experience" than him living in the world. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't truly relate to him and his experiences.

"... just get out with it," he snapped, putting down his fork and slumping back in his seat.

Jazz's eyebrows furrowed, disapproving but she didn't say anything about his disrespectful appearance.

"I know that you think I'm controlling, but I'm doing this for your own good. You're only a kid, and you're being forced to fight against ghosts. Of course I worry! We can never know for sure if you can beat up everyone you see... so I just want you to be safe. That's why I—"

"Jazz." His voice was hard. Jazz startled at the sound of it, looking shocked. "I'm not a baby. I'm my own person, and I don't need your help! You putting your nose in my business doesn’t help me!"

Jazz flinched and then glared back at him. "Well, I wouldn't have to, if you would listen and be careful!"

"I'm plenty careful! I'm literally the most careful person you'll ever know!" Which wasn't true, but Danny was incensed enough to say anything.

"Don't you lie to my face! Danny, you are so—!"

That was when there was the sound of something popping and the both of them turned to the door in confused silence. The sudden appearance of a pair of slow, clacking heels against the floor made the both of them tense.

No one should've been home but them.

So who was this?

With his hands underneath the table, Danny transformed halfway, ready with a ghost ray if it was an enemy. His ghost senses told him that it probably wasn’t a ghost, but he still had to be careful. Jazz picked up her plate, ready to toss it at a moment's notice.

The person who entered their home stopped at the door to the kitchen.

The first thing Danny noticed was that she was tall. Freakishly tall. His dad was the tallest person he knew, and this person wouldn't even be completely dwarfed by him if she was standing next to him.

The second thing he noticed was that she looked just like Jazz, only older. Her facial features were all the same, the same sweet smile, the same heart shaped face, the same long hair. The only thing that was noticeably different were her eyes, which shone with a light that he had never seen before and watched with a focus that almost unsettled him. She was dressed in a trench coat and a dark dress shirt. Her heeled boots clicked on the floor, drawing attention even further to her monstrous height.

This woman, this older doppelgänger of Jazz, paused at the doorway, studying them before she gasped and then rushed forward to pull Danny into her hug.

"Danny! Oh, it's you!" The Jazz lookalike cried, and her hold was tight and warm, pressing him against her chest like she was trying to absorb him through her skin. Danny stumbled and then just stayed in her embrace, dumbfounded. Her hug felt familiar, just like the hand that cradled the back of his head and the other that rubbed at his back.

"Jazz?" Danny blurted, eyes wide.

The Jazz clone pulled him back, smiling through teary eyes and nodded. "That’s right. It's me, Jazz."

Jazz was probably as confused as Danny, but she didn't hesitate to stand up and take a closer look. The older version of Jazz continued to hug Danny while Jazz flitted around them nervously. The two of them sank to the floor and it took a moment for Danny to understand what was happening before he pulled away, bewildered.

Something flashed through the Jazz clone's face too quickly for him to decipher.

"I'm sorry, but what? What's going on? If you're Jazz then... why are you in the past?" And why had Clockwork not said a single thing?

The Jazz before them pressed a hand against Danny's cheek. Her skin was gloved, and the coolness of the leather against his skin made him shiver. The look in Jazz's doppelgänger's watery eyes was intense and focused, her lips pulled into a small smile. "I am Jazz Fenton. I came here in hopes of finding a world where I could live."

Both Danny and Jazz became excited immediately.

"Wow! You're so beautiful! You're really me?" Jazz asked excitedly. "What do you do in the future? What's our job? Do we have a partner? How is everyone in the future?"

"Jazz! Let her breathe!" Danny felt a small sense of vindication for correcting his sister. However, he also looked at the older version of Jazz eagerly, wanting to know if he remained a hero and if their city was alright, if he got married to Valerie, and if Sam and Tucker were still his friends.

The older version of Jazz paused before she pursed her lips. "I'm afraid... it's not great in my timeline. That's why I came here. To escape." A flash of a strange smile crossed her face but it disappeared before Danny could try and decipher it.

He blinked, his stomach dropping as he tried to understand what she was hinting at. "Are you saying... that some of us are dead?"

The older Jazz smiled sadly. "You're all dead. I lost you, Danny. I lost you, Mom, Dad— I didn't even have Sam or Tucker. Everyone is dead. Humanity has been almost completely wiped out. I'm the sole survivor of our family in that world."

Both Danny and Jazz were dumbfounded.

A pit immediately formed inside of Danny's stomach as his blood turned cold.

The sole survivor? Humanity was almost wiped out? What on earth had happened in that world??

"Wait... you mean everyone? Like everyone everyone?? What happened?" He asked desperately. "Wasn't I a hero? How did I let this happen??"

How could this have happened? How could he have been so careless as to let everyone but Jazz die? A small part of him was a little happy that Jazz of all people survived, knowing that she was resilient and strong, but the larger part of him just felt sad. His core ached with the thought of her being alone in a possibly devastated world.

"Everyone died after you died," older Jazz said in quiet resignation. "People started dying in droves... there's only me left in the entirety of America."

Jazz clasped her hands over her mouth in horror, while Danny clenched his fists. "How did we die?"

"You... our family was at the Nasty Burger, when an accident occured and then the entire place exploded. You were on your way there when... you also got caught in the accident. Even your powers weren't enough to keep you alive when you were in the middle of such a large explosion." She looked down, her expression twisted in sorrow. "I was at home when it happened. And then... I was alone."

Danny's stomach twisted itself into knots. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he didn't know what to say.

Jazz whispered, hushed, "... it sounds like Dan."

Danny had to agree. However, older Jazz looked at the two with confusion.

"Dan? Who's that?"

Danny blinked. "You don't know...? Oh, it's because your timeline is different. Er, Dan is an alternate version of me. He's kind of like you, but more evil."

Jazz sighed and explained, "Danny from that timeline watched us die at the Nasty Burger too and then he started killing everyone. He's a little similar to you that way. But then he went to our world to try and kill us all again, so we trapped him in the Fenton thermos."

Older Jazz stared at them, her mouth open in shock before she burst out into laughter. The sound of her bell-like laughter was sweet, but the context was jarring and Danny and Jazz couldn't help but share a look of 'what the heck?'

Older Jazz eventually quieted down and she said softly, "How interesting. You're saying that he also had his family killed and then he killed everyone in his world?"

Something was definitely wrong but Danny didn't know what. Jazz was the one who replied, and she nodded slowly, "Yeah."

"You defeated this Dan?" Older Jazz looked at Danny with bright eyes.

Danny slowly nodded. "He's in the Fenton thermos."

Older Jazz smiled, her eyes narrowing into crescents. "How quaint. I know it's a bit presumptuous, but could I stay here for a little?"

Jazz startled and said, "Oh! Your world is destroyed, right? Yeah, y-you can stay if you want!" Then she flushed red at her stuttering.

Danny raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything as he turned to the Jazz from another timeline. "We should find you another name. Something like... Minnie?"

"From Jasmine? If you say so, Danny," Minnie said amicably. "Call me Minnie then, to avoid confusion."

"Are you hungry?" Jazz asked. Minnie shook her head and stared at her with half lidded eyes.

Jazz noticed the look and asked, "What?"

"Nothing. You're just so innocent."

For some odd reason, it didn't sound that nice coming from her mouth.

However, Danny wasn’t that concerned about it, more preoccupied with the presence of his big sister from a post-apocalypse world. They pulled her to the kitchen table anyways and thus, Minnie joined the duo for the summer.

————

Minnie spent a few days with them. As the only actual adult in the house, she quickly took control over the house's chores and Danny was relieved to know that he wouldn't have to do his daily chores with her around. Jazz had griped about it, but Minnie laughed it off.

She seemed to enjoy the domesticity of their daily life, content to be doing anything, even something as mundane as folding clothes as long as Danny was within her sight.

Losing him must've hurt her a lot. He understood. He had, after all, also gone completely crazy after losing his family in another timeline.

She had many similarities to Jazz. However, she was also different from Jazz in that she was far more capable. When she was worried about him on his patrols, she would just follow him out instead of nagging him. With her long legs and advanced technology, she was able to keep up with him and even catch a few ghosts herself. Even when he flew over the city, she could find him wherever he was and defeat ghosts along the way.

Minnie soon proved herself to be a more advanced and grown up version of herself very quickly. She was mature and patient, with a quiet confidence to herself that didn't come as naturally to Jazz. The age and grief that she had experienced had surely attributed to her mature personality, but it couldn't be denied that Jazz would grow up into an awesome person.

It kind of made Danny proud in a way.

Look at how cool his sister was!

Like now, Minnie was tinkering with her watch, a sleek and black piece of technology that she used to get here. Danny and Jazz had learned that Minnie taught herself bioengineering and weapons manufacturing in order to cope with her stress and depression. Apparently, she was currently learning how to program robots in her world.

If Tucker was here, he would probably fall onto his knees to beg her to take him in as an apprentice.

"Is that what you used to fight in the future?" Danny asked, pointing at the watch. The two of them sat in the kitchen, both in their own little world.

Minnie hummed, taking a screwdriver to take apart a piece. "No. I had something else helping me."

He blinked at the wording. "Oh. Can I see it?"

"I'm afraid not," her tone was very kind and she stopped working to pat his hair, "It couldn't come with me."

He didn't pay much attention to her after that, just soaking in the attention before she went back to work.

He laid his head on his arms, closing his eyes to the sound of Minnie fiddling with her machinery as he thought about the past few days.

Minnie had been a welcome addition to their household, not only because she took over the role of the adult in the house, but also because she was a calming presence between Jazz and Danny. She had quickly become a mediator between him and Jazz. Their fights had lessened in quantity because of Minnie's presence, but the quality had definitely gotten worse in animosity. And while he and Jazz weren't getting along, Jazz and Minnie were the exact opposite.

He didn't really know what he had expected, but he had thought that Jazz and Minnie's relationship would be as hostile as his with Dan's. Instead, the two of them were friendly and Jazz even had a bit of hero worship towards Minnie. Which was a bit narcissic, but he could understand it.

"Where's Jazz?" Minnie asked suddenly.

Danny opened his eyes. "She's in her room."

"Did you two fight again?" She asked, putting down her tools to raise an amused eyebrow at him.

Danny frowned.

"It's not my fault!" Ever since Minnie had arrived, Jazz had grown even more overzealous with her overprotectiveness. Danny was completely over it. He was a growing boy! He didn't need to be coddled any longer!

He didn’t like fighting with his sister either, but was he so wrong in believing that he could be on his own? Jazz had her own problems fo worry about. It was just like his childhood, when she would disregard herself and the opportunities given to her to take care of him. It infuriated him, saddened him, and made him ashamed all at once.

He just wanted to prove himself. He wanted to be seen as an adult, not a little kid like she believed.

He unleashed his grievances to Minnie, who was quiet and thoughtful the entire tale.

As he was finishing up his complaints, he huffed. "I just want to be taken seriously."

"She just loves you. I would know, I also love you very much," Minnie said.

Danny blushed pink at that but he continued to insist, "I know! But I'm a superhero! I need to be able to take care of myself without my big sister hovering over me like a helicopter mom!"

Minnie laughed softly. "Maybe you just need to prove to her that you can take care of yourself. We did grow up taking care of you after all."

He just groaned.

Minnie looked at Danny with a small smile for some time. “Danny,” she began softly, “how would you feel if I stayed here indefinitely?”

Danny blinked, a little bewildered by the topic change, but he then returned the smile. “That’d be nice. You could help us out around the house! I think we could convince mom and dad to let you stay. And you and Tucker would probably get along, since you two work with technology!”

Minnie stared at him with that ever present smile on her face. The way her bright eyes peered into him was intense with its color and piercing scrutiny.

In some ways, she was even more haunting than him, who was an actual ghost.

Minnie then chuckled a little. “That would be nice. But I can’t exactly stay in a place that already has a Jazz Fenton.”

Danny blinked. “Really? Why?”

Minnie replied, “We’re both alive, that’s why.”

Then she paused, tilting her head.

“Do I need to be worried?” Danny asked.

Minnie shook her head slowly. Her expression was considering, like something had just popped into her head to make her think. She was thoughtful, before she finally smiled even wider.

“I’ve forgotten how smart you were,” Minnie finally murmured, reaching some unspoken conclusion.

Danny tilted his head, asking a silent question.

Minnie smiled, a flash of her pearly teeth enough to get his hair rising. “But that’s alright. We’ll soon have all of the time in the world for me to relearn your habits.”

And from then on, she wouldn’t answer any of his questions. No matter how much he pressed, she did not say a word. Danny was hesitant, but in the end, he let it go.

He had begun to realize that Minnie had a darkness to her that was sometimes really unsettling. She didn’t seem like she noticed it or purposely kept it down, but it was quite creepy to see it when it rose in her eyes. Sometimes, he wondered if she knew that she couldn’t hide it and if she knew that it made Danny’s skin crawl when he saw it.

However, he wasn’t too concerned about her inner darkness or whatever she was talking about.

No matter what, he knew that any version of Jazz wouldn’t intentionally harm him.

He’d probably find out soon anyway.

————

The day ended quietly and night began quietly. It was still early dawn when Danny crawled back to his bed after a long night of patrol around Amity Park. Although he was exhausted, he was filled with a sense of pride and happiness from protecting his city once more. His muscles ached and his eyes stung from being awake for so long, but he knew that because it was summer, he could sleep the whole day away.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, there was a bang and a knocking sound, like something had fallen to the ground.

Startling away from his light doze, Danny sat up from his bed. Rubbing his eyes, he trudged out of his room to investigate what it was.

He poked his head out of his room and called out to her. “Jazz? Are you alright?”

The sound seemed to have come from her room.

There was only some muffled noises.

Had she fallen down from her bed?

Not entirely that concerned about what Jazz was up to, Danny called out again, “If you need help, just call Minnie! I have to get some shuteye!”

He began to close the door, but then paused.

His core was tingling slightly, a bad feeling rising up in his throat.

Danny sighed, cursing his own Obsession before he went to Jazz’s room and then knocked on her door. “Are you okay?” He asked.

There was another faint noise but Jazz didn’t seem to be replying.

Danny sighed again, now a little more annoyed, before he opened the door.

There, on the floor, was Jazz. Straddling on top of her was Minnie, her hands wrapped around her throat and mouth, pressing down at her throat with an unsettling smile on her face, like she wasn’t trying to kill Jazz at that moment. Their red hair was scattered around and the room looked like there was a bit of a struggle.

Jazz was still struggling, muffled noises coming out of her as she wriggled underneath Minnie, but Minnie’s weight and frame kept her settled as she began to choke the life out of her.

The two of them paused as they stared at Danny. Although Jazz was wide eyed and still trying to twist out of her grip, Minnie didn’t look alarmed and only smiled sweetly.

However, in this moment, she looked just like the Devil.

Danny stared, dumbfounded for only a split second, before he immediately reacted and transformed, blasting at Minnie with his ghost rays.

“Get off of my sister!!” He shouted, his heart nearly choking up his throat as he noticed Jazz’s weak kicking.

Minnie laughed quietly and her watch flashed, lighting up instantly with a shield that rebounded Danny’s ghost ray. Jazz whimpered and knocked her head against the ground with her flinch.

Danny didn’t relent, shooting out more and more beams as he desperately flew over in an attempt to throw Minnie off.

The shield bounced him back, making him land painfully onto the wall. His vision shook and his bones felt like they were rattling inside of him. His breath was punched out of him in an instant and he gasped, blinking away the stars in his eyes from the pain.

“What the—?!”

“Oh, Danny,” Minnie crooned. “I’m from the future. You think I don't have the technology to defeat halfas like you?”

Danny gasped, struggling to find air, and hit her with an energy ring in desperation. The shield blocked it once more.

“Minnie!” He tried to reason urgently, “You don’t have to do this! You don’t need to do this!”

How could he have trusted her so much?

How had he not know that Minnie's darkness wasn't just from grief? That her darkness actually came from the killings she had probably done and that she wasn't as simple as she looked?

Had Danny's underestimation of Minnie caused Jazz to be hurt?

Minnie smiled, and the expression on her face was mocking and sweet. It made Danny’s blood curdle in his veins and he clenched his fists, knowing that he had to find a way to bypass Minnie’s shields and save Jazz.

He had to find a way to buy some time!

“But I do. I can’t stay if there’s two living versions of Jazz Fenton in one world. We’ll pull apart the fabric of his universe. If I want to stay, I’ll have to get rid of her.”

Her hands slipped down from Jazz’s mouth to press against her throat.

Jazz began coughing, tears filling the corner of her eyes as she clawed at Minnie’s hands. Her face was almost looking blue as she tossed her head around in an effort to get away. Her fingers could not even pull at Minnie’s watch. Her legs kicked weakly and she tried to buck off Minnie, but it was useless.

Danny had never wanted to curse the fact that Jazz grew up to be such a strong woman more.

Danny couldn’t watch this anymore.

“Please! Please, we can find another way!” He pleaded, almost getting on his hands and knees as he begged Minnie to spare Jazz’s life.

Anything.

He would do anything as long as his big sister got to live.

“There is no other way,” Minnie’s voice was impossibly and jarringly gentle. “I want to stay with you. So I’ll just have to kill her. But it’s okay. You’ll still have me after she’s gone.”

The thought of it made Danny sick.

Jazz struggled weakly as Minnie’s grip seemingly grew in strength.

Danny was full on panicking now.

“No! No, please, you can’t! You can’t do this!”

“It’s alright, Danny. I’ll still be here, even if she’s gone. I’ll still be your big sister,” Minnie said soothingly, but it only frayed his nerves even more.

He would lose it if he lost Jazz. If Jazz died, he really would go crazy!

“W-W-Wait.”

Minnie paused, just as Danny threw himself at the shield again, only to be thrown off. In that moment as Minnie was distracted by Danny’s self-sacrifice, Jazz was able to get the barest amounts of air into her lungs to speak further.

“I-I have an idea.”

Suddenly feeling like Jazz was going to make the stupid decision of letting her psychopathic doppelgänger kill her, Danny cried out, “No!!”

Jazz ignored him. Minnie similarly took her eyes off of him to inspect her younger counterpart.

“Y-You’re lonely, right? What if… what if we give you Dan? The one from the other dimension? He’s also Danny and you could go back to your world with him…”

Minnie looked at her with a considering gaze, her hands still wrapped tightly around her neck.

“You’re saying that I take Dan off of your hands?”

She tilted her head. She didn’t seem adverse to the idea.

Danny could not believe that Jazz was genuinely negotiating with the crazy version of herself that was actively trying to kill her.

Jazz nodded weakly, tears being squeezed out of her eyes as her lips turned white. Her feet scrabbled on the floor slightly as she struggled to speak.

Danny couldn’t breathe either.

“Yeah,” Jazz said hoarsely, and Minnie watched her struggle for a little longer as she thought about it.

Danny wanted to drag her off and he nearly did so, but Jazz seemed to have a plan and he didn't want to ruin it. However, he thought to himself that if he saw any sign of Minnie finishing the kill, he would tear her apart.

Minnie was still, her hands continuing to press into Jazz’s windpipe. Then she let go and got off of Jazz with a beaming smile. She dusted herself off as Jazz finally caught her breath, coughing hoarsely, and Danny couldn’t do anything but stare at the two of them in horror. Standing on top of Jazz, Minnie then reached down with a hand to help her up.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said, her voice calm and sinisterly sweet, “I shouldn’t have overreacted.”

Jazz shivered hard and turned to Danny with wide, wet eyes. Danny felt his heart drop in his chest and he had the overwhelming urge to push away the despicable clone that was on top of his sister.

“D-Danny, go and get Dan.”

Immediately, Danny wanted to refuse.

He looked at Minnie, who didn’t look offended as she watched the two of them with interest. Her hand was still stretched downwards in the air, waiting for Jazz to take it, like a demonic entity that was waiting for her to sell off her soul. She just stood there, tall and long-limbed, like some sort of skeletal grim reaper.

The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t fight back against her. Dan was full ghost, and he was able to be fought off. However, Minnie was human, and she had built the technology necessary to combat him.

How could he have forgotten that she was an adult with all of the time in the world to create the tech needed to take him down?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Danny was still weak and it was the worst feeling in the world for that realization to sink in.

Even worse, Minnie was his sister.

Danny could fight himself all day and feel no remorse— which would give him another therapy session if he ever told Jazz this— but his sister? His big sister, who had cared for and protected him since the day he was born? His big sister, who had taken care of him more than their parents? His big sister, who despite all of her shortcomings and his flaws, loved and cherished him?

He couldn’t.

He was scared.

Even though Minnie was probably evil incarnate, she was still his sister. His big sister who he also loved with all of his heart.

Danny looked at Jazz again and despite how she was shaking and teary eyed, she gave him a hard look and ordered, “Go!” before she turned her head around and took Minnie’s hand.

Danny took off.

He raced down to the basement, immediately blasting the cabinets open with his powers. If he could have focused, he probably would’ve opened it a little less destructively. However, his sister was still in the same room as her evil doppelgänger and he couldn’t think. His chest heaved with his hurried and quick breaths, his vision felt blurry, he was a mess.

He needed to hurry.

He needed to get back to Jazz before anything else could happen to her!

Danny grabbed the Fenton thermos that contained Dan and then flew back up to Jazz’s room, immediately slamming the door open. Jazz sat on her bed, shivering, with Minnie standing beside her, tall and impossibly towering.

Danny threw the thermos towards Minnie, who caught it with a gleam of delight in her eyes as her lips stretched further. She cradled the thermos to herself closer, and smiled.

“Thank you very much,” she said softly, nails tapping against the metal like she was testing its durability. She looked down at the thermos and the way she held it was like how a mother would hold a baby, careful and affectionate.

It only sent chills down Danny’s spine.

He could not forget the image of her choking the life out of his sister.

Danny grabbed a blanket and threw it over Jazz, pulling her closer to him. Jazz squeaked but didn’t say a word. Danny glared at Minnie, shielding Jazz with his body as he snapped, “There. You have the thermos, so leave.”

Minnie smiled. “Alright,” she said. “I will take this with me. Would you like a replacement for it?”

“Just leave!”

Why did she insist on acting so kind despite having no problem in killing others?!

Danny was freaked out even further by the contrast in her actions and her words, and he clutched Jazz to himself, glaring at Minnie with all of his might. No matter what, she had to leave. He wouldn’t stand for this psycho to be anywhere near them again!

Minnie paused and then smiled. She walked closer and Danny immediately blocked Jazz from her view, fear rising once more as he tensed like a hostile cat. All of his hair rose and he couldn't help the growl that climbed up his throat.

Minnie reached forward and Danny immediately blocked it. She dodged past the weak move and reached... behind his ear.

She pulled away something small and black, making Danny freeze.

What?

What was that?

Why was it attached to him?

Minnie chuckled, looking amused by his reaction. She pocketed the small device and then with a zap, she pressed a button on the watch on her wrist. A blue-green portal opened up, flickering with sparks and little lights. Something dark and shadowy writhed within, unable to enter but the sight of it made Danny's skin rise with goosebumps. Jazz gasped when she saw it, but Danny didn’t let go, not until he knew for sure that Minnie was gone.

Minnie held the thermos in one arm as she said, “I’m leaving now. Thank you for your hospitality. Oh, and another thing… be careful, Danny. I’m sure you don’t want what happened to me to happen to Jazz, after all.”

The smile on her face was eerie, a calm and simple smile that made her eyes narrow and her expression even more insidious, like she was cursing them. Horrifyingly enough, Danny could recognize the love in her eyes. She loved him, and this love paired with her grief made her this way. Despite everything, she loved him and it made Danny’s blood go cold and his chest feel warm in unison.

Suddenly, he couldn’t help but wonder, “What did you do in your dimension after I died?”

Minnie chuckled, a foot already stepping over the edge of the portal, disappearing into its depths.

She smiled at them both, her expression radiant.

“I killed everyone, of course.” Her tone was so cheery that Danny didn’t have time to truly process her words before Minnie then went through the portal and disappeared completely.

Both Jazz and Danny remained silent.

Danny was suddenly struck with another epiphany.

Minnie and Dan were exactly alike, weren't they? Two siblings who lost each other and then decided to go on a killing spree to vent their anguish.

Danny was overcome with the sudden, overwhelming fear that he and Jazz were destined for unhappiness.

Then slowly, Jazz reached out and touched his hand, which clutched at her shoulders, unknowingly shaking.

“Danny, you alright?” Her voice was a croak, beaten raw from being squeezed out by Minnie’s hands.

Danny immediately dropped onto his knees onto the bed, pulling open the blanket to look at Jazz’s throat.

Around her neck was a ring of dark bruises, already turning a deep purple and red, spotted with the imprints of Minnie’s fingers.

A bloody taste filled Danny’s mouth as he bit his tongue to suppress his rage, and he felt the urge to open up a portal so he could beat up Minnie, screw her identity being his older sister from another timeline!

“I should be asking you that!” He cried, hands tremblingly tracing the marks. “Are you okay??”

Jazz didn’t reply, just reaching out to pull him close. Danny slumped against her hold and returned the hug, holding her tight. He hated it. He hated how powerless he was, how he could do nothing against Minnie. Even now, he was powerless as she held him. He couldn’t even do the right job of comforting her. If anyone else saw this, they would’ve thought that he had been the one who was attacked instead.

“Are you okay?” He asked again, voice weak. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m okay,” she whispered. She put her head on his and they sat in silence for a little while.

Danny felt sick. His shame and self-blame all mixed inside of him and he couldn’t help thinking that he was useless.

He hadn’t even been the one to save her. She had done that all on her own.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, after some time.

For being mad.

For being weak.

For dying and leaving her alone in another world.

Jazz hummed. “It’s okay, little brother. I forgive you.”

Danny clutched at the fabric of her shirt and said, “I-I’ll try to keep myself safe. I’ll take care of myself. Then we’ll both live long lives and by the time we’re 90, you’re going to wish one of us dropped dead so I could stop annoying you!”

It was a promise.

Jazz said, “I wouldn’t think that.”

Danny buried his head into her shoulder, careful to avoid her fragile neck and he felt something hot rush to his face, threatening to leave his eyes.

He clutched at Jazz like she was a lifeline as he said in a small voice, "I-I... we'll always be together, okay? You'll always be my sister and I'll always love you, even if you annoy me. You'll love me even if I'm annoying too, right?"

"Even if you're a pain in the butt, I won't ever leave you," Jazz promised, laughing a little.

Already feeling the mood brighten, Danny perked up and said mischievously, “We’ll see about that. I’ll chase away all of the boys and girls that come near you.”

“Even the girls? I’m not sure if I should be proud of you for being inclusive or annoyed that you’ll be keeping me single,” Jazz joked, and the two of them laughed.

Jazz rubbed her cheek against his hair when their laughter finally died down.

"I'm sorry for being too controlling. I'll... I'll try to keep it cool, okay? But promise me that you'll be safe. And that you'll try to come back to me no matter what, even if you lose the fight."

Danny nodded in silent acceptance of her apology, clutching at her shirt again. Oddly enough, he was reminded of when they were children, when Jazz used to be the only other person in his life.

He had Sam and Tucker now, but sometimes he wished that he was still a child, tucked into his big sister's embrace while she chattered on and on about nonsensical things that only toddlers could care about, when everything was normal and kind and made sense.

Danny loved Jazz. He loved all of his friends and family. His Obsession was one that formed around protection, but most of all, it formed around his family. He would still be happy and whole if his family was with him, even if the city they lived in was different. Dan and Minnie were just different facets of their reality. They had lost their family and in their grief, they took it out on the innocent lives around them. Like them, Danny's Obsession lied with the ones he loved, not the place where they lived.

But he was different from them.

His family wouldn't be the first ones to die and leave him.

In many worlds, Jazz and Danny lost their family and lost each other.

But in this world, they were still together. Blood continued to tie them together, and they were still a team of brother and sister, protecting and caring for each other.

In this world, their family wouldn’t be so tragic.

And that was a promise.

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Would you guys like a short continuation for Dan and Minnie? :3

I need to write more sibling fics for these two, I’m kind of obsessed. I love codependent relationships and I think I nailed it in this fic, but sometimes I wonder if it's too sickly sweet 😅 this fic is full of the headcanons that I have for dp, can you tell?

I hope that any of you won't dislike Danny for being a kid. Both he and Jazz have their character flaws and I hope it shows within this fic :)

In Minnie’s world, Jazz was the sole survivor of the Nasty Burger incident, and she lost her mind right after she was taken in by Vlad. After that, she began to create biological weapons and unleashed them on the world. She killed all of the scientists that could oppose her and then she just watched the world die. She’s 100% insane but you won’t notice it bc she’s trying to convince herself that she’s normal. As such, she acts calm, pretends to be pleasant, and her only noticeable abnormality is that she doesn’t react to things like a normal person. She has endless amounts of patience for a lot of things bc she spent most of her years watching people die slowly. Inspired by this tumblr ask I got

Minnie actually had a plan to kill Jazz, but a weapon was too messy so she planned to drag Jazz to a portal and then kill her in a different place. However, Danny was approaching and Minnie changed her mind to just choking Jazz in the little time she had left. That’s why her plan seems a little amateurish. (Otherwise, Jazz would actually die and that isn’t the point of this story 💀)

#jazz fenton #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp au #dp headcanons #dp fanfic #dp fic #evil jazz fenton #dark jazz #phantom family #phandom #this fic is giving sam and dean winchester lol #cw strangulation #tw strangulation #tucker foley #sam manson #cw attempted murder #dan phantom

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effloradox · 11 months ago

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what would you do, if you only knew (that i can see you)

thomas thorne x ghost hunter+fem!reader (set during season 2 episode 1)

synopsis: being able to see ghosts for most of your life almost seemed to force you into being a ghost-hunter of sorts (not that your boss is actually good at his job), it’s only on a trip to button house and a reunion with an old friend from your student days that your ability actually comes into use after a run in with a particularly dashing ghost

a/n: this is massively inspired by the song i can see you by taylor swift, the plot just came into my head after listening to it and here we are, it was meant to fulfil one of the requests i’ve been sent but it went so far from the prompt that i decided to make it a separate fic and do another fic for the prompt

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not sure how you ended up in the ghost hunting business. It’s not something you even thought was a real job when you were a kid, it seemed like something you'd see people doing in the cartoons you watched. It was only after a close call when you were a teenager that almost killed you that you realised that you could see ghosts.

It made living in London quite difficult, the sheer amount of people who’s spirit hadn’t moved on was difficult to deal with but you managed to set yourself up with the so-called Ghostmaster General and it gave you a steady stream of work going round the country with him seeing if the buildings were actually haunted or not. You’d never explicitly said you could see ghosts to your employer but you could express enough knowledge that he kept choosing you to go on the trips. When photos of a grey lady surfaced on Facebook and Twitter from a mansion in Hemel Hempstead your boss had called on you immediately to join him on the trip.

Button House didn’t seem to be any different than the countless other manor houses you’d seen over the past few years. It's in a worse state of repairs than you're used to but aside from that it seems like every other fake haunted house you've visited. You’d left your boss to sort out whether you were being allowed inside the house, not wanting to drag the many bags of equipment to the front gates if you were going to have to just bring them back to the van. It’s only when he gives you the go-ahead to go and start setting equipment up inside that you grab a few bags and make your way towards the entrance.

It's with a jolt of surprise that you realise you recognise one of the owners of the house. You’d been friends with Alison at university until the two of you had both finished your degrees and parted ways, keeping in touch only to wish each other a happy birthday or similar milestones.

“Alison, hey!” The woman looked your way at her name, and her face bloomed into a confused smile when her eyes fell on you.

“Hey! Oh my god!” She pulled you into a hug as soon as you were within arms reach and you did your best to reciprocate without hitting her with the equipment bag slung over your shoulder.

“This is your house?”

“Yeah, well it was my great-step-aunt’s house and I inherited it when she died.”

“That’s amazing! Much easier than trying to get lucky with London real estate.”

“So how did you end up doing this?” Alison gestures vaguely to the bag pulled across your shoulder. It’s all you can do to shrug your shoulders lightly, trying to look as blasé as possible as you readjust the strap before it starts to slip down.

“It pays the bills.”

You couldn’t help but notice how nervous Alison was about the whole situation she’d found herself in but you chalked it up to nerves about having so many strangers in her home and didn’t think to push it. She’s kind enough to give you directions up to one of the rooms near the attic that your boss has assigned for the thermal camera currently resting against your shoulder. You agree to a cup of tea and a catch up before making your way to the room.

Everything was going normally with the equipment setup until you suddenly heard a voice shouting down a corridor. It immediately pulled your attention from the camera you were setting up, your eyes trained on the closed door to the room you're in waiting to hear footsteps approaching. When silence lay steady, your focus returned back to the camera.

It takes a great deal of self-control to try not to flinch when a figure suddenly comes through the closed door. You try not to let your eyes flicker away from the camera but can’t help but quickly scan the figure. It’s not the grey ghost you saw in the pictures, the man is dressed like a scout for some reason and the only abnormal thing about him is the arrow sticking out of his neck. You can’t help but wince slightly at that, what a terrible way to go. The ghost is talking to himself apparently in a thick northern accent or that’s what you assumed until another ghost steps through the door.

It takes everything within you to not stare at this ghost. He’s clearly from a few hundred years ago based on his attire but he might be the most beautiful man you’re ever laid eyes on. He was mid-sentence when he walked through the door saying something about finding the others but his voice trailed off when he looked in your direction.

“But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and you are the sun.” The way his voice carries the words is nothing short of reverent and you can practically feel the embarrassment rushing through your body. It's not the first time a ghost has found you attractive but normally they're plague victims or half-mad, they don't normally look as though they've just stepped away from a recreation of Pride and Prejudice.

“Thomas! It's not polite to stare.” The scout almost looks apologetic which is quite sweet given that there’s no way he can know that you can see him but his words have done nothing to deter Button House’s version of Mr Darcy.

“And yet we hang the most beautiful paintings ever created in galleries so that the masses may gaze upon their beauty. Would you deny me a similar experience Pat?”

As nice as it is to have someone speak about you like that, you’re aware that it’s going to be very difficult to get through the night if you have a ghost following you and all but swooning over you. Part of you wonders if you could try and feign being sick but also you know how one-track minded your boss will be about this house and there’s no way he’ll be willing to leave to drive you into the nearest town to get a train back to London.

You hear the familiar sounds of the camera as it’s finally finished setting up facing the door and, as you expected, shows no sign of any heat signatures. You decide to leave your other bag in the room for now, choosing instead to go and find Alison. The two ghosts are mid-debate as to whether it’s polite to stare at someone who doesn’t know they’re being stared at as you walk over to the door.

It’s with slightly shaking hands that you twist the handle on the door, opening it as calmly as possible as you try to remember your way out of the house. You can hear the ghosts talking in the room and the voices don’t seem to be getting any further away but the only cohesive thought in your mind is that you have to track down Alison and ask her what she knows about the house.

“Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Alison laughs nervously at her joke but it does nothing to relax you.

“I need to speak to you.”

“Okay?”

“Outside.” Alison must see something in your expression that worries her because she allows you to take her by the arm and gently leads you to the front door. It's only when the front door is closed behind you and you can't see anyone dead or alive around that you find your anxiety easing. When you stop moving, you make sure to have your back to the front door, if only to put yourself at ease.

“Are you okay?” You’re about to speak when a voice cuts through the silence.

“Alison! You must reveal the name of this fair maiden at once! Her beauty outshines the sun in a way I never believed possible up until this very moment.” You have to give credit to Alison, she's very good at hiding the flinch when a voice suddenly appears from through the front door. It's only from a lifetime of doing something similar that you catch it, and you watch her eyes darting to something behind you before looking back towards you.

“Sorry, did you say something?” To give Alison credit, her voice only wavers slightly after the interruption. Maybe it’s unfair of you but when you speak, you make sure to do so in a quieter tone than you would normally. You have to be sure that she can see and hear him before you say anything and if you can make it harder for her to hear you under the loud gushing of the ghost then you’ll do what you can.

“I think there’s something upstairs.” You try to pay close attention to any reactions that Alison has to your comment but it’s very difficult once the ghost appears by your side. Up close he really is gorgeous. It’s almost a shame he’s dead because if you saw him in public you’d want his number in a heartbeat. It’s very hard to not let your eye wander in his direction, especially when he’s so close to you. He hasn’t stopped talking since he appeared through the door and whilst you’re more than used to a chatty ghost, you can see that Alison is getting more and more distracted by him.

“Alison! I must insist you express how ardently I admire this fair lady immediately or I shall never give you a moment of peace!” The threat, however serious he is about it, seems to be the final breaking point for your friend, whose face shoots in his direction.

“Thomas, stop talking for one second!” Even the ghost seems surprised by her outburst, staring at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. She catches her mistake in an instant, staring at you with an almost mortified expression as she waits for your reaction.

“I’m guessing you have more than two ghosts here then?”

“What?” Alison’s voice is tentative, like she’s waiting for you to either laugh in her face or run away screaming. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“I can see them too.”

“What?!” You don’t blame Alison for being surprised, it’s not something you ever told her during your time as students, not even when you had both had a bit too much to drink and your secrets spilled easily. You’d learned early into your time seeing ghosts that telling people the truth was a quick way to alienate yourself from friends and peers alike. It was much easier to lie and say you were just an anxious person by nature who startled easily than to explain that you flinched every time you saw a particularly gruesome looking ghost.

“Sorry for not telling you. Pat seems really nice.”

“Oh my god.” A beat passes as the news sinks in, and then another wave of acceptance seems to reach Alison and with it comes another shout. “Oh my god! You can hear him?” She points in Thomas’ direction and the ghost in question has the good grace to look somewhat mortified by the idea you’ve spent the past thirty minutes listening to him regale you with compliments that he thought you couldn’t hear.

“I can.” For a ghost that’s just spent the better part of an hour showering you with compliments, he suddenly seems unable to string a sentence together. It’s easy to put him out of his misery though. “You’re very handsome by the way. I’m very flattered.” His face goes red at the compliment and, for the first time since he appeared in front of you, he seems genuinely speechless. Alison seems to be in a similar state.

“Does your boss know?”

“Absolutely not! I didn’t want to spend most of my adult life being ridiculed for something no one would ever believe to be true. Have you told anyone?”

“Mike knows. Kind of hard not to tell him with so many of them.” Mike is quickly making his way into your good books with everything you hear about him and you make a mental note to buy him a nice bottle of wine for being such a supportive husband.

“How many have you got?”

“Too many.” You let out a soft noise of consideration before turning to the still shocked ghost standing beside you.

“Would you introduce me to your friends?” Thomas seems to snap out of his shock at your request, bowing slightly and extending a hand in your direction. It’s a sweet gesture even though both of you know you can’t physically take his hand.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I’ll uh, catch up with you later?”

“You might want to worry about the twenty-something ghost hunters running amok in your house first.” Alison pales slightly at the reminder of what situation has brought the three of you to where you currently are.

“Oh god. I need to go and find Mike.” Your friend is quick to dash back inside her house, leaving the door open for you and Thomas to follow her. Manly you, since he could just phase through the door again.

“Shall we Lady-uh…” It’s only in that moment that you realise Alison never actually told Thomas your name and you’re quick to correct that.

“(Y/N).” You supply.

“Lady (Y/N).”

“We shall.” Thomas walks towards the house first, waiting just beyond the door for you to follow him. Your only thought as you walk through the door is that you hope you don’t run into your boss for the next thirty minutes or so otherwise you might have some explaining to do.

#my writing #fics #thomas thorne x reader #bbc ghosts x reader #fem!reader

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jaded-jezz · 2 years ago

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Shutter Speed

Jack Champion x Photographer!Reader

Part 1/?

☁︎ Fluff

Summary: y/n is a photographer for the new scream promo and Jack thinks she belongs in front of the camera rather than behind.

"Y/N did you double check the SD card was empty?" My best friend and work partner, Leah, shouted from down the hall. "Yeah it was the first thing i did this morning,"

Leah and I have been working together ever since college where we met during our photography course. We have been inseparable since both landing a job at a highly praised magazine company.

Today is going to be a great day as we have been given the front cover photoshoot with full creative control too. It has been my childhood dream to have even a small picture but another front page? The feeling never gets old.

Leah and I finish packing all of our equipment into the car and we start the drive down to the studios in LA. As it’s kind of a long drive Leah starts our little road-trip with our favourite song. We scream the lyrics and laugh when the people, in the cars that pass us, give us strange looks.

To save our voices from any extreme damage, we put on some less energetic music and go over the plan for the day. “Wait, have you seen the cast for Scream 6?” Leah suddenly asks.

“Yeh like sorta… no not really” I answer scrambling for my phone. “Well we know Jenna from the Wednesday shoot so that’s less worrying right?” I say as I wait for the list to load.

“Oh yeah I forgot you did that! Do you think she will remember you?”

(Scream VI Groupchat POV)

Jenna- how close is everyone to the studio?

Devyn- I’m parked outside

Melissa- the shoot starts in half an hour

Devyn- I LIKE TO BE EARLY OK?!

Jasmine- YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO BRING ME THIS EARLY TOO THO

Liana- wait you guys drove together? You could’ve invited me 🥺

Jasmine- use that emoji again and I will become ghostface

Liana- 🥺sowy🥺

‘Jasmine’ has left the group chat.

Mason- Jenna this is your fault

Jack- What the hell did I just miss?

Jenna- HOW WAS IT MY FAULT?

Mason- YOU ASKED THE QUESTION

Jack- Jenna, Mason is the reason we are running late please don’t kill us.

Jenna- thanks for actually answering jack, mason I’m going to kill you

‘Devyn’ added ‘Jasmine’ to the group.

Devyn- see you guys soon!

(Y/N POV)

“ I doubt she will remember, I didn’t really speak” I answer, as I start to cringe over my previous shoots without Leah. Leah is literally my rock, and she knows this as she looks over to me. “You will be great, I’ll be there if things get too awkward, and you have all your notes on your phone and in your notebook.” I give her a smile as I reach for said notes to calm my nerves.

When we arrive at the studio I already see two of the actors and they wave as we walk past their car. I feel a lot less stressed as I see that everything is clean for us to set up our equipment. Leah and I finish in a record time thanks to my meticulously drawn plan of the placement for lights and tripods.

One of the producers walks in to check if we are ready. He lets us know that two actors are going to be late but it won’t ruin the shoot. As he leaves to alert the cast Leah stands next to me to make sure I don’t run away.

“OMG it is you!” I hear a voice come round the corner. “I thought I recognised your name, guys this is the talent who created all the Wednesday promo!” Jenna exclaims to the group before walking over to hug me.

“It is great to see you again Jenna! And it’s lovely to meet all of you too.” I say to the room. “I’m Y/N, this is Leah and the stylists are in the other room.” I start to explain the plan for the day.

“So any questions?” I ask after I realise I’ve been talking rambling for too long. “Oh last thing, sorry, if at any point you feel uncomfortable or awkward in a pose or something, just let me know and I will sort it as fast as I can.” I let the cast go to their stylists, who they knew from set, and walk towards my camera and laptop to make sure everything is loaded up and ready to go.

“She did remember you.” Leah said in a hushed giggle as my face starts to go red.

(Jack’s POV)

We are late. Mason is late. So I’m late. I hate being late to these things. Especially when it’s people I’ve never worked with before, although I think I remember Jenna saying she’s met one of the photographers before but that doesn’t calm me down one bit.

“Hey man, chill out” Mason interrupts my internal panic. “They won’t mind, you can charm them with your good looks yeh?” He suggests. I widen my eyes to show I don’t agree. “Fine, I’ll apologise in my own way and you do it how you want too.” He sighs, jokingly.

When we finally arrive we are pushed into the changing rooms so fast that I don’t get to apologize for our lack of punctuality. I quickly change into my costume before jumping into the makeup chair, next to Mason. Once the artist has finished I text my mum to tell her I made it and left it on the vanity. I headed out to the studio once Mason was done too.

"Look who decided to show up!"

Part Two will be their meeting! Or should I say meet-cute?

Also (shameless plug) I really want to be a photographer so I would mean a lot if you followed/checked out my Instagram:

@/no.stress_jess

Please do not repost this, reblogs are appreciated.

#actress #actress reader #fluff #im so alone #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jaded jellyfish sting #marry me jack champion #oneshot #x reader #photography #photographerslife #photographer reader

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sundrop-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Miss Nectarine

Donna Troy x Fem!Thick!Reader

Miss Nectarine, jawbreaker sweet.

Summary:

Ever since the old Titans have come 'home', Donna has been swimming in stress and grief over the friend they had lost the last time they lived at the Tower. She unintentionally found the perfect way to combat that grief when she accidentally walked in on you in a very revealing situation.

Donna Troy x Fem!Thick!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut. Set during Season 2, Episode 7.

Word Count: 2,600

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is such a random fic lmao; this is primarily smut; this fic does feature spoilers for the canon if you haven’t seen the show before and you want to watch it spoiler-free; mentions of Titans!Bruce Wayne’s intense paranoia; mentions of background (past) Dawn/Dick; mentions of canon violence (no in-depth descriptions); mentions of Donna/Garth (but I never outright state in this fic that Donna and Garth were romantic in the past or if they were just friends - I like them better platonically tbh); mentions of Donna’s grief for Garth as a best friend; this uses the ‘caught masturbating’ trope - Donna accidentally walks in on the reader masturbating and all the lustful feelings she has ever felt for the reader come flooding toward the surface; there is no hard dom/sub, but Donna is more dominant and the reader is more submissive to Donna’s orders and whims; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; she reader is described as fat/plus sized (through a very loving gaze - Donna is very turned on by her body); accidental voyeurism (Donna watches the reader masturbate for a while); clitoral stimulation (the reader masturbating); the reader calls Donna ‘D’ (because that’s a thing in all my fics now); very clear consent is established before Donna touches the reader; mentions of Donna manhandling the reader slightly (using her superpowered strength, but nothing that would be incredibly unrealistic); oral sex/pussy eating (Donna giving, reader receiving); I believe that’s about it.

A/N: This is named after the recent song Miss Nectarine by Ashnikko, which is about someone struggling with their attraction to women and I fucking love the song so much - the second I heard it, it captured my heart. I highly recommend listening to it. Also, I feel like this fic is not my best work. Idk. I wrote it with a really awesome inspiration in mind (Donna lusting after a thick girl) but I couldn’t really get the writing flow down, and I feel like some parts of it are clunky. But I know that sometimes we should stand behind work that’s not our best, and people still might enjoy reading this. So, here you go!

...

Titans Tower was a place that had a lot of usual features. Things that no other home would ever need.

The large serenity garden in the center of the house that never seemed to bring anyone serenity. (It was likely just there because the Tower had been built for people who were city-dwelling chronic night owls, the type of people who never saw plants in their natural habitats, and needed a simulated one in the middle of their million dollar condo.) The large, state of the art training facility. The medical bay, stocked with all kinds of equipment and medication - including a freezer filled with spare blood, in all of the original Titans blood types. Which is something that would be insanely creepy to any outsiders.

And among the more peculiar security measures: none of the internal doors in the house had locks on them. All the bathroom doors, all the bedroom doors, the doors to the training room - none of them locked.

To a certain extent, Donna understood why.

The place had been designed by the most paranoid man on the planet - at least, that’s what Diana often called Bruce, and Donna had to believe it wasn’t an exaggeration, because Diana didn’t really believe in hyperbole. There were cameras in every single room, endless security protocols to breach the Tower from the outside - most of which Donna likely didn’t even know about. The place had been designed around its own unique, state of the art surveillance system.

So, there being no locks on any of the bathroom doors or bedroom doors was just another… quirk. Something implemented for security purposes without ever considering how inconvenient it would be for a person to actually live with.

It was something implemented with the idea that locks put barriers between the members of a team, and those barriers can create secrets. Secrets cause friction. A team should be one solid unit. That, and it can be dangerous, taking away precious life saving seconds if someone is locked in their bedroom while sick or injured and a door needs to be smashed up in order to get to them.

At least, that’s what Bruce had in mind when designing the place.

Back when all the original Titans had moved into the Tower, knocking became the most easily upheld rule in the household. No matter how much they argued over who did the dishes or complained about certain people making noises at ‘impolite’ hours - above all, it was a sacred practice not to barge past a closed door without asking first.

And as Hank taught them, whenever someone wanted privacy in their room, as a kind of ‘do not disturb’ sign: a sock was to be wrapped around the doorknob as a universal signal that the person inside did not want to be bothered. It was a good old fashioned standby that he had learned while living in a frat house that had shitty, broken bedroom doors with locks that often failed. It came in very handy whenever someone wanted their privacy to masturbate uninterrupted, to unwind and sob without question after a particularly hard mission, or - when Dick and Dawn coupled up - to fuck like rabbits without anyone else barging in on them.

Somehow, being back in the Tower, it was easy to forget that sacred law of knocking. Something about taking a five year hiatus from living in the strangely designed condo and wallowing in the tense emotions that being here brought back to her - Donna was more focused on the stress of Deathstroke and Doctor Light, everything around her old home that reminded her of the dear childhood friend she had lost the last time she was here. Her mind was a mess, and sadly - it was easy to forget about something as simple as knocking.

Over the past few days, her mind had been occupied by far too many things.

Doctor Light’s ‘escape’, and then his strange, untimely death. Deathstroke suddenly showing up again, and the moral conflict of harboring another one of his kids in the Tower. Which was made even worse when she considered that he would be an emanate danger to her - and to everyone else.

All of this stress was topped off, brought to a boiling point when Donna had walked into her room after doing some yoga and meditation with Dawn (trying to calm the rockiness of their minds) and she found a bottle of orange soda on one of the bookshelves. Not just any orange soda - the orange soda.

Her memories of Garth were painful enough - she didn’t need to be reminded of him like this. She wasn’t sure if someone was doing this to fuck with her, or if someone had put it there to try and comfort her. As an attempt at reminding her of the good parts of her past. If that’s what they meant, it wasn’t working.

As soon as she found it, Donna rushed down the hall to your room to confide in you. She simply needed to share this strange occurrence with someone who wasn’t going to jump down her throat with conspiracy theories or brush off her concerns. She needed a shoulder to lean on, maybe cry on. Maybe she needed to reminisce about Garth when she had banned speaking his name since she had re-entered the Tower.

She thought nothing of it when the doorknob to your bedroom turned under her palm with absolutely no resistance.

She found herself standing in your doorway, holding the bottle of warm soda in one hand, staring down at it like it was a bomb about to go off. With her other hand still poised on the lockless doorknob, her mind filled with stale grief over her lost friend - when she heard it.

A soft moan.

Donna’s head shot up toward the noise, mostly an instinct of her training. The sight she was greeted with instantly shifted all of the energy in her body from confused, saddened, and hurt to pure, blinding lust.

You were laying in the middle of the bed, your head propped against several pillows, making you look like a fantasy, purposefully displayed and laid out for her - and you were touching yourself. Your oversized, comfortable shirt was shoved up to sit underneath your chin, revealing your gorgeous tits, bared so perfectly for the eye to consume.

Your lounge shorts with your panties tangled inside them were tossed off to sit around your ankles, clearly in a haste to partake in the act of ‘self care’. (Something different than the calming yoga Donna had been doing to take her mind off things, but just as effective.) This left your wet, wanting pussy out in the open, completely visible for Donna to see, and she even swore that she could smell you - a pungent tang in the air that drove a carnal hunger deep inside her.

The thing was, as much as Donna had acknowledged in the back of her mind that you were attractive, and funny, and cute, and that your strength when facing enemies put an undeniable heat in her gut - she had never truly looked at you with this much lust boiling inside of her. Not until now. Because she had never truly seen you until this moment.

Well, up until this moment - she had seen you as a friend, as a companion, as a fantastic warrior, someone she always wanted by her side. But this was the first time she had seen you as a potential lover. As someone she so badly wanted to fuck.

With you laid bare to her like this, so desperately humping your own fingers and intimately visible, she couldn’t help but to stare.

Two of your fingers worked furiously over your swollen clit while you held a lip between your teeth, clearly trying to hold any noises tight inside of your throat. This was something that made Donna even more desperate to hear your sounds, to hear what kind of moans or whimpers you would make for her.

Your breasts bobbed in the air as your chest heaved - two beautiful mounds with peaked nipples, zagging lines of stretched skin where reality had quaked to prepare for your gorgeous muchness. This caused her eyes to trace down your quivering stomach; her gaze following the smooth rolls of your body that perfectly guided her eye down to the beautifully fat mound of your cunt. Your pussy was dusted with hair that was absolutely dripping with your need - so utterly soaked that you were beginning to form a small stain on the comforter below you.

Perhaps best of all - the wideness of your thighs perfectly framed your clenching hole, clearly so needy and yet untouched as you rubbed sloppy, increasingly loud circles on your clit. It was a space where Donna wanted to slot herself and be smothered by the perfect dimpled thickness of your thighs, wanted to feel the endless warmth there, encasing her in everything that was you and barring out the stresses of the world.

She stood there, frozen in place for too long, simply admiring you.

She still had her hand on the doorknob, standing in the doorway, and with your eyes screwed so tight with pleasure and concentration, she knew that you hadn’t seen her yet.

Part of her wondered if she should approach you. If she should be so bold as to assume that you would want her in your bed.

But when she glanced down again, she saw the orange soda bottle. And something in the back of her mind was reminded of that haunted past. Something that said she was never meant to be happy. Something that told her living in the moment only fucked things up. Everything she had done back then, it was karma, that-

“Donna.”

You said her name like it was the sweetest song.

A soft, delicate moan coming from your lips - not an accusation, not a griped yell for her to get out.

When she looked back at you, your eyes were even tighter with pleasure, your back arched slightly off the bed, displaying your breasts in an even more perfect way. Your fingers worked more furiously on your clit, clearly trying to make yourself cum with even more intent. Your other hand came down to hook under your knee, lifting your leg up in a way that spread your thighs even more. This made Donna breathless at the visible wave of slick that leaked out of you and the way your fingers dug into the fat of your thigh.

It almost made her jealous of the act. She should be the one grabbing your thigh. It made her entirely tempted to charge over there and simply take over.

“Fuck, D.” You sighed breathlessly.

It was clear in her mind: you hadn’t caught her. You were thinking about her as you were getting close.

Donna’s own pussy throbbed between her thighs, and as she clutched around the glass bottle so hard she swore she heard it crack. In that moment, she could almost hear Garth’s voice in her mind. He was chanting, telling her to ‘go for it’. Telling her that the concept of ‘karma’ was bullshit and she had to make her own fate. He would have told her that she was stupid to pass up an opportunity with ‘such a hot babe’. If he was a ghost, supposedly haunting the Tower, he would probably be her wingman in this.

Maybe it was his ghost, with a hand on her back, guiding her toward you. Whatever it was - in that moment, Donna felt the impulsive Atlantean side of her take over.

Or maybe it was the fact that she needed to turn away from all the grief - for the first time since entering the Tower, Donna needed to make herself forget about all the ghosts that haunted the halls. She needed to hold onto something real, something good that was right in front of her - she needed the real, tangible now.

She stepped fully inside your bedroom, shoved the door closed behind her. It was only with that quiet slam that you actually came out of your personal, lustful bubble. There wasn’t enough time for shock to take over as Donna abandoned the mysterious orange soda bottle on your dresser and strided toward the bed with intention and purpose in every single movement. You snapped your legs closed around your own hand, suddenly feeling shy under her ravenous gaze.

“Yes or no?” She asked you firmly.

She placed a knee on the end of the bed, looking at you with heat blooming across her cheeks. Her own chest shifted with puffs of hot breath as the lust rapidly increased her heart rate.

Of course, she would never do anything without your explicit consent.

Even though shock was still barreling through your system, unsure if this was a fantasy or not, perhaps a strange illusion blurring into reality - you managed to squeak out a reply. There was only one possible answer you could think of when she was looking at you like that.

“Yes.”

Donna nodded firmly and then moved onto the bed. Before you could blink, she had hooked both her hands under your knees and, using her enhanced Amazonian strength, she pulled you down the bed toward her. This caused you to let out a sharp squeak - a sound of delighted surprise at the fact that she could move you around so easily. Nobody else that you had been with ever could.

She placed both her hands on your inner thighs and spread your legs open like you were a book that held all the answers to life’s most demanding questions. She was glad that her hair had already been up in a low bun, because it was out of her way as she held your legs open with impressive force and dove in.

Years of unrealized lust for you came rushing out of her, concentrated on the tip of her tongue. Feelings that she had been holding back through intense, well-trained self discipline began to pour out the minute that her tongue met your mound. It was a demonstration of her sheer power painted in front of you as she flicked her tongue over your needy clit, fucking you hard and fast. She couldn’t help but to moan loudly at your taste. Sweet like a nectarine.

“Fuck!”

You moaned out, unable to take your eyes off the sight of such a gorgeous, goddess-like woman between your thighs. Your mind almost unbelieving that it was real - barely able to comprehend how perfect she looked with her pretty pink lips pressed against your cunt and her tongue working in hard, fast circles as she fucked you in such an utterly demanding way.

“Oh my god, Donna!”

Your muscles quaked with the effort, but you were unable to move even an inch to shut your legs around the intense, overwhelming stimulation that she provided. Heat shot through your body from that one point - from that beautiful place where her lips were sealed onto your cunt.

Donna felt the spasming of your legs, felt the heat pouring off you in waves, and she reached over with one hand and worked two fingers inside of you. This was entirely easy with how slick you were, open and ready for her. You moaned sharply and your face was twisted into a gorgeous pinch of pleasure when she glanced up at you through her lashes.

There was just one more thing that she wanted.

She popped off your clit with a filthy wet noise, causing you to whimper.

“Cum for me,” She demanded sharply.

You couldn’t help but to follow the order.

When you fell apart underneath her touch, you couldn’t contain your screams. Everyone in the Tower heard you.

...

If you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

#sundrop writes #donna troy #donna troy x reader #donna troy x fem!reader #donna troy fanfiction #dc titans #dc fanfiction #titans x reader #titans fanfiction

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slafkovskys · 5 months ago

Note

Listen I think the “Calling my boyfriend my husband” trend would be hilarious with either Keller or Nils (enjoy feral Will Ferrell)

“okay,” you sigh as you prop your phone against the cereal box on the kitchen counter. even after your following had grown, you still refused to invest in any “professional” equipment, “it’s almost eight o’clock now and nils has to be at the airport by nine- i think?”

you cut yourself off with a yawn as the suitcases by your front door catch your eye, “but we’re going to do something a little different today. if you haven’t seen this trend going around, basically people are calling their boyfriends their husbands to get their reactions, but i’m going to be calling my husband my boyfriend to see what he does. also- oh! and here’s the star of the show now.”

nils walks down the hallway with his suit slung over his shoulder, his shirt untucked, and barefoot, “have you seen my loafers, sötnos?”

“are you sure that you didn’t put them in my pile to pack?” you question, sending him a smile when he rounds the counter and places a quick kiss on your lips.

“i don’t think- maybe,” his shoulders fall as he grabs the smoothie you had made for him. he gestures to your phone, “what are you filming?”

“just a morning in my life, combined with what it’s like when dropping my boyfriend off at the airport,” you don’t miss the way that his face twitches at the word, but he doesn’t bring it up, or rather you don’t give him the chance to because you’re ushering him back towards the bedroom, “go get your belt and your shoes, we don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

your next opportunity arises in the elevator when you hold your phone in the air to capture your outfits, “this is what it’s like when your boyfriend plays sports for a living. he’s in a suit at eight am and i’m still in my pajamas to take him to the airport.”

he waits until you stop recording to speak, “‘m not your boyfriend.”

“what?” you act confused as the elevator doors pull open.

“you called me your boyfriend. we’ve been married for almost a month now,” you can’t quite pinpoint what was going on in his head, but you quickly shake it off.

“i didn’t realize. ‘m sorry.”

luck was on your side and of course, you hit the back end of morning traffic. you turn and look at nils— whose expression was still as cloudy as it was in the elevator— and ask, “do you mind if i record and answer a couple of questions people have about when you’re gone? you might have some insight too.”

“sure.”

you had moved maybe twenty feet in the last five minutes, so propping your phone on your center console to capture the both of you was no problem, “so since we’re stuck in traffic because my amazing boyfriend here just could not function without a specific pair of loafers and we had to tear through his luggage to find them,” you squeeze nils’ cheeks and you watch through the camera as he cuts his eyes at you, “we thought that we’d answer a couple of questions that people ask mostly about road trips and how we maintain our relationship with him being gone so often.

“personally, it was hard at first and i’m not saying that it gets easier having a boyfriend who’s away so often, but it’s definitely about having a good support system. we’ve been together for three years now and i’ve got, you know, other wags on the team, my friends and family, and my boyfriend will call at least a couple of times a day when he’s gone, so that’s helpful,” you sigh and look at nils, “what do you think, ni?”

“um, yeah. first, i’m not her boyfriend, i’m her husband. ring and all,” he lifts his hand to showcase his wedding band to your phone, “i don’t know why she keeps saying that like we didn’t just go to get her last name legally changed yesterday, but-”

and that breaks you. you cover your mouth to try and stifle your laughter. nils looks confused as you grab onto his arm with your free hand and try to catch your breath, “oh, you took it better than i thought you would.”

“took what?”

“that’s how i know you don’t watch the tiktoks i send you,” you sigh, “there’s a trend going around where people call their boyfriends their husbands to get their reactions and i decided to switch it to see what you would do. you didn’t disappoint.”

the car in front of you finally moves up a little and nils still looks confused, “so you didn’t forget that we got married?”

“no, ni. i very much remember.”

#nils hoglander #👼🏻

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chuckpatch · 1 month ago

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Another picture from my upcoming book “Silver Keeps” from Eyeshot Publishing: Patti’s wedding

MAYBE I’m not the world’s worst wedding photographer, but in terms of conventional wedding depictions, I tilt strongly toward the incompetent side. I seem to always shoot from an odd angle, catch Aunt Samantha with her eyes closed and mouth open; forget to photograph really important guests (I’ve never missed the bride and groom, though) and generally stand too far from the stars of the event. Despite that, I love photographing weddings, or more precisely, the parties that follow them. There are few social occasions that bring together groups so diverse in age and background for, what almost always turns out to be, uninhibited, even joyful, playfulness. I just don’t want to be the official photographer. Decades ago, I occasionally acquiesced when friends wanted me to photograph their weddings. I’m pretty sure that I gave Patti and Tom dire warnings of the likely outcome when they asked me to shoot theirs in 1982, but maybe because they didn’t have enough money for a real photographer or assumed that because I was always carrying a camera, I knew what I was doing in all situations, they persisted, and I agreed. I had hardly any equipment – just the Leica with its 35mm lens, and an Olympus OM-1 with a 50mm Macro. I figured I could swap my Vivitar flash back and forth between them “as needed.” The wedding and reception were in a simple banquet hall in rural Wisconsin. It mostly took place on a large, covered terrace next to the hall on a sunny June day. I did my best to take the classic shots, but when I developed the film, I found this one shot of Patti’s friend, Kate, arriving with her children that I simply do not remember taking, and it’s the only shot on that roll where I point the camera down the road. It’s not a wedding picture, and I considered not even including it in the set I ended up providing, but, (along with these other goofy shots that ARE wedding photos, the group shot is a favorite because it features the parents of another friend) it was the best image I caught that day.

#silverkeeps #book #eyeshot_magazine #wisconsin #wedding #film #blackandwhite #LeicaM2

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hurricane-heatt · 10 months ago

Note

for the trope mash up, may i request summer camp au + accidentally married + martian? :P

hello!!!! you’ll have to forgive me for both the time this took and the brief accidentally married bit but it made it in there and it’s sweet i think!!!! i hope u like it :)

seb and mark as camp leaders! they both have their own group of about ten kids and their groups go together on adventure walks in the mornings (an hour for the kids to get all their energy out and then do nice quiet things in the afternoon). the groups joining together is not by choice.

it’s a problem because the two group leaders bicker. a lot. the camp is very underfunded so a lot of the equipment is missing and/or on its last legs. they mostly argue about silly things like Well you had the stove last night so can my kids have it tonight? But we’re toasting marshmallows! You toasted marshmallows last night!!!! no one seems to think why don’t we just collaborate and share a stove. (one of the other camp leaders will sigh and push their own stove towards whoever’s moaning abt it)

they are also deeply competitive on behalf of their camps. children are children and love games and winning and beating each other and seb and mark sort of might maybe use this as an excuse to wind each other up. the whole ethos of the campus is Be Kind Everyone’s a Winner Teamwork all that rubbish. seb and mark, upon hearing there’s a egg and spoon race across the wider camp, are strategically planning who is best suited to compete for their team.

it always comes down to Webber vs Vettel and the kids love it because children are desperate to shout and cheer at anything that moves, especially when the thing moving is their friends and in the background their camp leaders are elbowing each other when one wins and the other loses

anyway. one day they’ve gone on an adventure walk. afterwards one of the kids comes and taps mark and has a very sad little look on her face. she’s lost her camp backpack and it had all of her stuff in it (the way kids bring every item they own everywhere). she’s all teary eyed and nervous and so mark says don’t worry, i’ll go and look for it. can’t have sprouted legs and walked off!

but then mark realises the girl is from seb’s group. so he goes and tells seb and he’s like Oh we’d better go look for it. mark is like Um. We? seb shrugs. says Well she told you so. You have to come with me. It’s only fair actually. Anyway, two sets of eyes are better than one!

(lots of flimsy excuses to spend time with mark, who he’s had a little bit of a crush on since seb started working here last summer, that’s irrelevant, though.)

cue plenty of huffing. but off they go! into the woods! they follow the same trail they did in the morning, up the hill, through the twisty trees, as they’re colloquially named for the way they wrap around both the sky and themselves, the huge and constantly muddy puddle on a concrete path that the kids delighted in getting their boots in.

and it’s a nice day so maybe they take a little longer on the way, while also peering around bushes in case any passersby have been kind enough to drop the backpack in for safekeeping.

maybe seb takes a little longer in the dirt, checking behind trees because when he turns around mark’s got one hand on his hips, squinting into the sun with the other hand covering his eyes and he’s actually really toned and his arms are very nice. he’s noticed before obviously. how could he not. he’s just a guy. but this is different, especially when mark turns to look at him and seb feels particularly caught out when he grins knowingly. Shut up. Keep walking.

and maybe mark lingers a bit behind seb as he runs ahead thinking he sees a glimpse of red on a fence post. maybe he watches because seb’s hair turns golden in the light like a halo and it’s very beautiful. like art, mark thinks, and he wishes he had a camera. or maybe he can keep it all to himself in his memory

seb turns back around when he sees it isn’t the backpack, just a bit of a torn fabric from a tent, and mark sighs but they’re nearly at the end of the trail (a big loop around the campsite) so Surely it must be ahead!

the last part of the walk is always the children’s favourite, a big hill leading into a sunken in field, a valley of sorts. there’s a footpath worn out by adventurers over the years but they all, everytime, get on their stomachs and roll down on the grassy part, tufts sticking to their shirts as they land at the bottom, giggling. seb looks as if he’s itching to recreate it but they carry on down the grown up route.

something catches their eye in the middle of the field, and there sits a bright red backpack, looking very lost. they run towards it as if it’s some precious artefact and they cheer and hug each other and then laugh it off nervously. because they’re stupid.

the running wore them out, though, so they sit on the grass. the kids are fine with the other camp leaders, probably being better behaved than they do for mark and seb themselves, so they’ll take a break. seb notices (after he stops looking at mark who’s leant back on his forearms and looking sweaty and handsome) that there’s little braided stems littered in the grass.

Oh, she must’ve got distracted when making the daisy chains! Easy to do, replies mark with a smile, eyes shut as he soaks up the sun

seb picks one chain up, inspects the way they’re intricately laced into one another, finds some half finished ones too. he gets to work piercing a hole through the stem with his nail, threading it through, over and over until it fits neatly on his wrist. flimsy and delicate but he grins and shows it to mark

mark will smile and say, Can I have one? and seb would say Make one yourself you lazy arse, and then mark would pull himself upright and scramble to launch at seb, who laughs loud and bold like it’s so easy to do. he fights because because he’s no quitter and the smell of grass and the sun beating down on them mixes in their lungs and Oh, look, you’ve snapped it!

seb frowns but stops when he realises he’s now on top of mark, was pinning his wrists to the dirt when he notices his bracelet has broken and fallen off. mark doesn’t say a word, just breathes and looks straight up at seb. they both breathe like that for a while, seb in two minds, a dozen fleeting thoughts while mark looks so calm. how can this be so easy? how can it be so hard?

Pull me up, then. Sure, sorry. S’alright. I’ll make you another bracelet.

so then they sit quietly against each other, knees touching, and occasionally mark let’s out an exasperated sigh as he splits the stem (big hands, clumsy) but eventually there’s a semblance of a bracelet for the both of them. they gather up some of the smaller rings too, to bring them back for the kids. finally, seb hoists the little red backpack over one shoulder, and they make their way back to the camp

it’s late afternoon so they’re getting ready for dinner around the fire, and some of the kids are comforting the little girl who lost her backpack. It’ll be okay! They’ll find it! Mark found my hat, remember! Yeah, and Seb found my pencil case!

when seb and mark return it’s as if they’ve brought home a golden trophy. the girl hugs seb’s knees and they both scruff her hair and say Be careful next time!

the kids crowd around them, hailed as heroes, and one points to their arms and gasps, turning to their friend and giggling. then they’re all in fits of laughter.

What’s so funny? says seb, putting a chain that’s far too long on his hair. everyone keeps laughing and mark looks at him like he’s an angel, with his crown of daisies atop his head. You’re married now! says one of the little boys, and he smacks his hand over his mouth as if he spoke without thinking.

How does that work, then! mark laughs but doesn’t look at sebastian, who’s looking at him with pink cheeks and a wide smile. Because you both have the bracelets on! It’s fairy magic, it means you’re married forever! one girl chimes in, her tone of voice as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

I can’t be stuck with him forever! and all the children cackle with laughter and run back to their seats around the campfire as dinner is called, plastic plates on their laps.

and they both should go and help serve the food but instead they just stand there for a little while, watching the flames dance in the pit.

and then maybe mark slips his hand into sebastian’s, just gently, the daisy chains sliding against one another. and seb squeezes, once, and doesn’t let go. like it’s easy.

#guess who got carried away again #sebmark #martian #sorry i’m a sucker for an au

41 notes · View notes

sandcobangevent · 7 months ago

Text

sherlock and co flashbang submission!!

‘Drop the case.

Or I will let the whole world know how hopelessly in love you are with your precious doctor.’

- Show Your Hand by @drinkingmelonwater !!!

“Sherlock, have you seen my socks?” John asked, emerging from his room. “My stripey yellow one’s missing its pair. Have you- oh my god what are you doing with my sock.”

Sherlock, who was in the process of dipping John’s sock into a beaker of acid, didn’t reply.

“Sherlock! What are you doing?! I wear that, you know?!” John yelled, attempting to rescue his sock to no avail.

“Apologies, but I’m afraid this is important,” Sherlock replied briskly.

“Important enough to destroy my stuff?” John snapped. “Couldn’t you have used your own?”

Sherlock hesitated. “If that’s what you want.”

John sighed, “Nevermind, you can have it. Keep the other one too, if you want. No use having one sock without the other.”

Sherlock brightened instantly, resuming his experiment with vigor, at the expense of John’s stripy yellow sock. John sat down on the sofa, now sock-less, and stared out the window at the rainy sky outside. It was a downcast sort of Tuesday, the kind that made you want to sleep in and enjoy a nice mug of hot chocolate. He would get no sort of rest, however, for he was interrupted by a case.

“Sherlock, John?” Mariana knocked and opened the door. “We have a client.”

“Excellent,” Sherlock replied. “Tell them to leave their damp shoes and belongings by the door.”

“How did you- nevermind, just get down here as soon as possible,” Mariana said before retreating.

“Another client already?” John exclaimed. “Excellent. Wait, let me get the microphone.”

“Grab a towel too,” Sherlock called. “The client will have absorbed a significant amount of rainwater, if how much rubbed off on Mrs. Hudson in their brief interaction is anything to go by.”

When John returned, towel in one hand and microphone in the other, Sherlock was waiting for him by the door. Together, they went downstairs to meet their new client.

“Boys,” Mariana said, “This is Flora Hawkins. She’s our new client.”

Sherlock was right. Flora was drenched in rainwater. She’d removed her boots and raincoat by the door, but water still dripped from her hair in rivulets, leaving damp spots on the floorboards.

John handed her the towel, “Hi, Flora. Why, exactly, are you covered in water?”

Flora didn’t dignify his question with a reply.

“What I want to know,” Sherlock said, “Is what exactly prompted someone to run from Camberwell to Central London in the middle of a rainstorm.”

“Jesus Christ, Camberwell? You walked that far?” John gasped.

“I like walking,” Flora said defensively. “It’s better for you.”

“What brings you here today, Flora Hawkins?” Sherlock asked.

“I’ve got a case for you,” she replied. “But, I suppose you already know that. Recently, I’ve gotten in a spot of trouble. In Surrey, there’s this lovely nature reserve. I’ve been several times, and it has this gorgeous lake and forest. But, about a month ago, some company or another bought up the land and started cutting it down to build a factory! Right on top of the wildlife living there, like it was no better than mud! So, I called up some old friends from Uni. We were part of this activist club, and all cared deeply about nature. So we went to the construction site to protest.

“Only, when we got there, the site was abandoned. Turns out the workers have Sundays off. We basically showed up to nothing. A few members started getting worked up, and before I knew it, a riot broke out. People were smashing construction equipment, yelling, screaming, causing a huge ruckus. Monkeywrenching is crazy illegal, and I saw cameras all over the place. So I smashed them. I work for a tech company, I know my way around cameras, and how to destroy the data they store. After that, we ran off. They still don’t know who did it, last time I checked.”

“Hey, um, you know I’m recording this, right? For the podcast. It’ll be on the internet and, well, you know,” John asked.

Flora sighed, “I know. I might have minded, if not for what happened next.”

“What happened next?” Sherlock leaned forward eagerly.

“Well, I started getting emails. I dunno from who, they were always just… strings of random letters. Attached were photos of…”

“Blackmail,” John breathed.

“Right. The sender threatened to release the photos to the police and the press if I didn’t cough up £100,000,” Flora said.

“And what did you do about them?” Sherlock asked.

“Well, nothing. I wasn’t like I could go to the police, they’d arrest me for vandalism. So I ignored them. The emails kept arriving, all from different addresses, once a week, and I did nothing. Until one day, I didn’t receive an email. I received a letter.”

From her pocket, Flora produced a letter. It had been sealed in a plastic bag to keep it dry, which was a good call. The outside of the bag shimmered with water droplets. Sherlock snatched the bag, ripped it open, and handed the letter to John.

“Watson, read the letter aloud for us,” he instructed.

John stared at the letter, neatly typed and printed. He read it aloud.

“Hawkins,

This is your final warning. Drop the money off at the Peckham Road petrol station on Saturday, 2pm. Fail to comply, and there will be consequences. I will be watching.”

“That’s why I came to you,” Flora explained. “I live with my mother, and I was worried. If I didn’t do something… who knows if the consequences might be more than jail?”

“Don’t worry,” John reassured, placing a hand on Flora’s shoulder. “We’ll find the culprit, right, Sherlock?”

“Hm,” Sherlock closed his eyes, deep in thought. “Watson, hand over the letter. Hawkins, may we see the emails sent to you?”

“Sure, I’ll pull them up now, and forward them to you later,” Flora replied, tapping at her phone. “Here.”

Sherlock took Flora’s phone and compared it to the letter. “South London Gallery postage stamp, bought at Camberwell, perpetrator likely lives in the area. Standard A4 paper, office quality. Typed, not handwritten; even the envelope. Could be a show of excess caution, but there could be a specific reason for the blackmailer to conceal their handwriting… Then, there’s the location.”

“What is it?” Mariana asked. “Did you notice something?”

“I believe so,” Sherlock said. “When did the letter arrive?”

“Yesterday.”

“Inconsistent with the emails,” Sherlock muttered thoughtfully. Then, he stood. “I believe I have solved part of the case.”

“Already?! Christ, Sherlock, what is it?” John exclaimed.

“The email blackmailer is not the letter blackmailer.”

“How’d you know that?” Flora asked.

“Simple, really,” Sherlock said. “There are many discrepancies between the emails and the letter. For one, the delivery date. The emails always arrived on Wednesday, at 11am on the dot. However, the letter arrived on Monday. The letter also requests a different drop off location for the money. It doesn’t add up.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean it’s a completely different person,” John argued.

“Perhaps not. However, it’s enough to raise suspicion. If there is someone already aware of the blackmail, then we may have our culprit,” Sherlock turned to Flora expectantly.

“…You think it’s Tom?” Flora asked.

“Wait, hold on. Who’s Tom?” John interrupted, confused.

“An ex-boyfriend,” Sherlock explained. “The breakup was recent too. It wouldn’t be difficult to reason that Hawkins here fought with ‘Tom’ over the blackmailing incident, and broke up with him when they refused to see eye-to-eye. It makes sense that he did it. Bitter over the breakup, he decided to get revenge. It would explain why the blackmailer knew your address, and why the letter was typed. He knew you would recognize his handwriting. I doubt he really expected you to pay up, but he offered an avenue just in case.”

“That piece of shit!” Flora cursed. “I knew he was shady, but to take advantage like that- I ought to give him a piece of my mind!” With that, she gathered her belongings and stormed away.

John coughed, disrupting the silence that ensued after Flora’s dramatic departure. “So… is that it? Because that’s barely enough for an episode. Heck, Sherlock, you hardly even had to leave your chair!”

“This is hardly the end, Watson. The email blackmailer is still very much at large,” Sherlock rose from his chair and turned for 221B. “Grab your raincoat. We’re going to Surrey.”

—

“Sherlock, did we really have to take a train to Surrey in the middle of a rainstorm? I mean, couldn’t we have waited a few hours for the weather to clear? Feels like it’d be a whole lot easier to investigate when you can see more than a dozen feet in front of you,” John winced as he trudged through the slurry of mud that was once a working path.

“Contrary to your belief, this was entirely necessary. The construction crew will have cleared out due to the rain. This is our chance to investigate uninterrupted,” Sherlock explained.

“The last time the construction crew left, all their cameras were smashed. There’s no way they’ll leave the place unattended,” John countered.

“They won’t. But they won’t have cameras either. After the cameras proved themselves faulty, the company would have found alternative methods of protection, such as a security guard. A security guard that we can fool.”

“Brilliant. So what’s the plan, walk up and tell the guard we’re investigating the vandalism?”

“Precisely, Watson. Precisely.”

“Hey! What are you two doing here?!” a voice cut through the rain and fog.

John whirled around to find himself face-to-face with what he supposed was meant to be a security guard. It wasn’t a very impressive security guard. He was gangly, his too-large uniform hanging off his shoulders and pooling at his boots. The acne and scraggly beard only made him look more like a teenager. The man- boy, really- had squared his shoulders to look bigger and more menacing, but with rain-drenched hair and clothes, he looked more like a wet cat. The only vaguely intimidating thing about him was the taser strapped to his belt, which he hovered his hand over in warning.

“Hey- look, we were just-“

“We are investigators, hired by the company to look into-“

“The lights? Finally! I’ve been trying to get someone to look into that for ages, but nobody seemed to believe me,” the guard interrupted.

“Sorry- what lights?” John asked. He exchanged a glance with Sherlock, who simply shrugged in response.

“You don’t know? Well, I’ve been stationed out here for a few weeks- ever since the cameras were smashed. The name’s Adam, by the way. I usually work night shifts, and this past week, I’ve been seeing lights in the distance. Brief, flashing lights. I’ve reported the incidents dozens of times, but it always gets waved off. Not anymore, though. They finally sent you two to investigate,” the guard was so eager, John almost felt bad for having to burst his bubble.

“Actually, we’re here for-“ John began.

“We’ll look into it,” Sherlock interrupted.

John blinked, “Sherlock, what are you doing?”

“Adam,” Sherlock said, ignoring John’s protests, “Where do you see these lights coming from?”

“Over there,” Adam replied, pointing at the tree line by the lake, which was barely visible through the rain. “The flashes appear at night, in the same general area.”

“Have you investigated them?” Sherlock asked.

“Ah,” Adam blushed. “I’ve been too nervous to go see for myself. I mean, what if it’s aliens?”

“I doubt it,” Sherlock said coldly. “Come, Watson. It’s time to investigate.”

“It’s just over there,” Adam pointed, stopping in his tracks. “I’ll leave you two to the investigation. If you need me, I’ll be over there, watching. From under the shade, far from the rain. Comfortably.” With that, he scampered off.

“Watson, pull up the photographs Hawkins sent to you,” Sherlock instructed, before crouching down by the treeline, prodding away damp leaves and shrubs with a stick.

John did as told. “So what, you think the lights are connected to our case?”

“I think they’re more connected than you can imagine,” Sherlock replied. “Look here. It’s rather faint, the rain’s washed most of it away, but those are definitely not natural marks.”

John peered at the mud. Sherlock was right, there were faint, odd-looking marks. There were a few that seemed to be bootprints, but also several wide, shallow divots, and most peculiarly of all, three deep indentations, no more than a centimeter in diameter, arranged in a triangular shape.

“What on Earth is this?” John gasped.

“These are clearly bootprints, so the shallow indents are likely caused by a person pressing their legs and torso against the ground. The three marks are likely caused by the legs on some sort of equipment- I’d wager it was a camera tripod. If the photographer was sitting on their knees, the camera would be at just the right level to- bingo.”

“Bingo what?” John asked. It was always fascinating to hear Sherlock’s deduction process live, right as it happened.

“Take a look at the photographs of Hawkins. They’re both taken from a low angle, almost exactly from this spot. This mystery photographer is the one who captured the photo of Hawkins.”

“Hold on,” John said, “If this photographer caught the photo of Hawkins, then why did they stick around afterwards? I mean, those flashes of light Adam saw, they were the camera flash, right? Why linger around?”

“That is a great question, Watson, and the one we must find the answer to.”

“Sherlock,” John called, “Sherlock, stop pacing. Adam’s not going to reply if you wear a hole in the rug.”

Sherlock stopped pacing to flop back onto the bed next to John. “I have theories, John, but no concrete answers. Who is the blackmailer, and how can we catch them?”

John leaned back, laying next to Sherlock. He stared up at the water stained ceiling of their rented room. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“What?”

“Would you like to share your theories?”

“…” Sherlock flicked his eyes towards John before fixing his gaze on the ceiling. “I contacted the Irregulars. Turns out, there’s no shortage of blackmail systems in England’s underbelly. Many have homeless networks of their own, watching for slip ups among Britain’s most influential. We have plenty of suspects to choose from.”

“Any idea who it might be?” John asked.

“Perhaps.” John waited, but Sherlock didn’t continue.

Laying there, next to his friend, listening to the rain outside begin to ebb, John felt strangely relaxed. He felt his eyelids begin to droop, and didn’t bother fighting the lull of sleep.

“Watson.”

“John!”

John felt hands on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He grumbled, turning and batting the hands away.

“John, wake up!”

John opened his eyes. Sherlock was standing above him, eyes gleaming.

“Mmh, what time is it?” John murmured sleepily.

“It’s 2:18 am, and Adam’s messaged us. He’s seen the lights, it’s time.”

“Oh shit, really?” John jolted up, suddenly wide awake. “Let’s go!”

“You see that, over there?” Adam pointed. John and Sherlock watched as, in the darkness, there was a small flash of light. It wasn’t very bright, but in the dark, it may have been a spotlight.

Without hesitation, Sherlock began creeping towards the light. He edged around, creeping like a cat, before breaking into a sprint and leaping at the shrubs. John heard a soft yelp, which thankfully didn’t sound like Sherlock. He ran to Sherlock and turned on his phone flashlight to reveal a short-haired woman with her cheek pressed to the mud, wrists pinned behind her back by Sherlock Holmes.

“Ack!” the woman yelped, “Get off- What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Sherlock, what-“

“Who are you?” Sherlock asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m- not- answering- until- you- get- off!” the woman yelled, thrashing wildly. She actually managed to throw Sherlock briefly, but he held firm until John pulled him off.

“Sherlock, stop-“ John said before turning to the lady. “Sorry about that.”

“You better be,” she scowled, “Who do you guys think you are, going around tackling photographers in the middle of the night?”

“What’s a photographer doing in the middle of the night?” John asked incredulously.

“Wildlife photography,” Sherlock answered.

“How’d you know that?” both John and the photographer asked at the same time.

“Your bag has a logo on it. WWP, World Wildlife Photography. It would explain why you’re in a nature reserve in the middle of the night,” Sherlock explained.

“Oh.” the woman said. “When you put it like that, it sounds bloody obvious, doesn’t it?”

“I will ask you again,” Sherlock said, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Kathleen Moore,” Kathleen glared at Sherlock. “And didn’t you answer your own question? I’m here because I’m a wildlife photographer.”

“Not at all,” Sherlock replied, “Why would a wildlife photographer stay in the same place for over a week, and why would you photograph the worst possible area? Factory construction has driven away most of the wildlife. Not much for you to shoot, is there, Kathleen Moore?”

“Well, I-I’m here for freelance work. I’m taking photographs of the damage caused by the factory to publish in a magazine,” Kathleen replied.

Sherlock regarded her suspiciously, so she continued. “I’ve already got reporters purchasing my photos.”

“Is that so?” Sherlock asked. “Who?”

“Marcus Douglass,” Kathleen replied easily.

“Sorry, who’s Marcus Douglass?” John asked. The name didn’t ring any bells.

“A reporter, obviously,” Kathleen sneered. “Does only one of you have your brains on at a time?”

John probably would have yelled at her for the insult, if Sherlock hadn’t aimed a kick at her shins. Kathleen fell to the mud with a wet splat.

“This is assault!” she wailed. “You can’t do this!”

“Cooperate and I won’t have to,” Sherlock said coldly. “I have questions to ask.” Sherlock reached out a hand wordlessly. The photos, he seemed to say. John retrieved his phone and pulled up the pictures of Flora Hawkins. They were taken from almost exactly where John stood. He handed the phone to Sherlock.

“You took this photo of Flora Hawkins in this very place one month ago. Don’t deny it, you know you did. Then, you sold it to Marcus Douglass.”

Kathleen’s lip quivered. “I didn’t realize what I’d done until it was too late. I saw the person I’d captured in the photo, and heard the commotion, but I’m used to tuning out distractions, so I kept working. I was so tired afterwards that I forgot to delete the photo off my SD card. When Marcus Douglass approached me, he was genuinely interested in my work, so I showed him the photos I’d collected. He loved them, and offered a very good price, so I saw no reason not to sell them to him. It wasn’t until after I’d sent him off with a copy of the photos that I realized what I’d given him, and by that point, there was nothing I could do. He’s gone off and blackmailed the poor girl, or got her arrested, hasn’t he?”

“Hey,” John said soothingly, bending down to rest a hand on Kathleen’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. Any and all blame falls squarely on his shoulders.”

“Why stick around afterwards?” Sherlock asked. “The one person that showed interest in your work turned out to be a fraud. Why continue?”

“Well, I wanted to give up, and very nearly did, too. I took some time off and gave it some thought. I’m still very invested in this little passion project of mine, even if nobody else is. So I chose to keep going,” Kathleen replied. John had to admit, he admired her dedication to her job.

“Very well then, Ms. Moore. That is all. We will leave now,” Sherlock said, turning away.

“Sherlock,” John hissed under his breath. “You tackled this poor girl and kicked her to the ground. Oughtn’t you apologize to her?”

Sherlock looked as if he’d been asked to eat a lemon, peel and all. “Very well, Watson. My- apologies, Kathleen.”

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” John said cheerfully. “Sorry again, Kathleen. Have a nice day- night- is it day now? Whatever. Have a nice one.”

Kathleen gave him a soft smile. “Sorry for what I said earlier, I was worked up. Have a nice day as well. I should go as well. Bye, John.”

John waved goodbye as Kathleen packed up her equipment, then turned to Sherlock. “Well, we have a name now.”

To his surprise, Sherlock was frowning, almost glaring at his shoes as he walked. “Sherlock? You alright there, mate?”

“I don’t trust her.”

“Who? Kathleen? Why not?”

“I didn’t call you John earlier.”

John’s mouth fell open slightly. “But she did.”

“She knew who we were already. She could be in cahoots with the blackmailer. We can’t trust her testimony.”

John sighed, “So what, we’re back to square one?”

Sherlock sighed as well. “Unfortunately.”

When they returned to their room, it was three in the morning, yet John and Sherlock both found themselves unable to sleep. Sherlock sat in bed, tapping frantically at his phone, while John paced in slow circles around the room.

“Bugger,” Sherlock cursed under his breath. “Another Marcus Douglass, but this one’s a baker. Not the one we’re looking for. Marcus Douglass may just be a name Kathleen Moore used to throw us off the culprit’s scent.”

“What about Kathleen herself?” John asked.

“I’ve checked. Some of her work’s been published. On the surface, she’s just a small wildlife photographer. She has a website for freelance work, but- wait.”

John moved to peer at Sherlock’s phone from over his shoulder. “What is it- Marcus Douglass. He’s listed as a customer.”

“Marcus Douglass, for ‘Show Your Hand’…” Sherlock opened a new tab and googled the name.

“‘Show Your Hand’… It’s a tabloid magazine. Why did Kathleen think a tabloid wanted wildlife photos from her?” John wondered aloud.

“She didn’t. Her work for Show Your Hand likely wasn’t related to wildlife at all.” Sherlock frowned, “Dammit, there’s no Marcus Douglass on the list of writers for Show Your Hand.”

“Wait, what? If Kathleen’s work wasn’t wildlife related, then what was it?” John asked.

“It’s the perfect moneymaking system. Show Your Hand collects evidence of wrongdoing, then blackmails them. If they refuse to pay up, they publish the scandal. Kathleen Moore was likely hired to watch the area. Hawkins wasn’t the intended target, the company building the factory was.”

“So you think Show Your Hand is behind the blackmail?”

“Yes.”

“That’s brilliant!” John exclaimed. “You’ve done it again, Sherlock!”

“…Thank you.” Sherlock said softly. “But don’t praise me yet. The most dangerous part is still ahead of us.”

“What’s that?”

“We need proof of guilt. Evidence. Show Your Hand has headquarters in London. In the morning, we will pay them a visit.”

“Breaking and entering again?” John sighed. “One of these days, we’ll be able to solve a case without committing a crime.”

Sherlock suddenly glanced sharply at John. “Be careful, John. These people know who we are and tipped Kathleen off about us. Make sure you don’t have any blackmailable secrets out in the open.”

John shrugged, “I don’t think I do. I’m sure I’ll be alright.”

Sherlock yawned softly, then laid down, turned over, and fell asleep. He must have been exhausted. Sherlock clearly didn’t sleep earlier. John glanced at the clock. 3:13. He knew he should be heading to bed as well, but his mind was racing. They were getting close, he knew it. Sherlock’s warning was ominous, but John was sure he would be alright. He wasn’t a secretive man, and had few skeletons in his closet. John glanced at Sherlock. He might not have anything to hide, but what about..?

Sherlock’s phone chimed softly. John glanced at Sherlock, who stirred softly but didn’t wake. The phone chimed again. Sherlock had left it on, and it emitted a soft glow. John reached for it, intending to turn it off, when he remembered Sherlock’s warning. They were being watched by a blackmailing organization. The text was from an unknown number. John itched with curiosity. The phone chimed a third time.

He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text.

‘Drop the case.

Or I will let the whole world know how hopelessly in love you are with your precious doctor.’

“Sherlock, John!” Mariana called when they returned to 2218.

“Hey, Mariana,” John said. “We’re back.”

“There’s something I think you guys should see,” Mariana said, biting her lip.

Sherlock frowned, “What is it, Mrs. Hudson?”

“Follow me.” Mariana led them up the stairs to 221B.

John and Sherlock gasped as they entered 221B. “What the hell happened here?!”

A small cyclone had torn through the room. Drawers were open and shelves were ransacked. Random odds and ends lay on the ground. The window was ajar, a cold breeze blowing through the flat.

“I checked this morning, and found the flat like this,” Mariana explained. “I’m not sure what happened.”

“What do we do?” John asked.

“Nothing here. They’ve made their move. Now it’s time to make ours.” Sherlock turned for the door. “Come with us, Mrs. Hudson, we’re going to Show Your Hand headquarters.”

After lunch, of course. The three of them stopped by a sandwich shop for a bite, and Sherlock explained the case to Mariana. Then, they hailed a cab. The cab brought them to a modern-looking, nondescript building. Sherlock swung the door open and led them inside.

John and Mariana followed Sherlock to the front desk. “Hello, we have an interview scheduled for 1:30.”

The receptionist didn’t even look up from the paperback novel he was reading. “Directory’s on the wall, elevator’s to the left.”

They piled into the elevator. “So, what now?” Mariana asked, looking at Sherlock expectantly.

Before Sherlock could reply, John hit the button for floor 3. “Now, we visit Bobby Crawford,” he said.

Sherlock and Mariana stared at him uncomprehendingly, so he continued. “Robert Crawford is one of the executives at Show Your Hand. A search of his name will reveal an obituary for Marcus Douglass Crawford, his son.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he grinned excitedly. “He’s the true mastermind of this scheme. That’s brilliant, John.”

John smiled softly, but the elevator door opened before he could reply. “Let’s go.”

Crawford’s office was at the end of the hall. The door was locked, but Sherlock picked the door open. Inside, it appeared no different from any ordinary office. It had a desk, a potted plant, and a dull gray rug. The entire room was military-neat, not a speck of dust out of place. The only odd thing about the room was the floor-to-ceiling wall of filing cabinets. They were labeled A-Z, and Sherlock wasted no time reaching for one. Out of the ‘F’ box, he dug out a manila folder labeled ‘Flora Hawkins.’ It was thin, almost empty, and only contained the photographs emailed to her, alongside some personal information, such as her address.

“This should be sufficient evidence. Scotland Yard can handle the arrest and investigation.” Sherlock said. “Let’s go- Watson, what are you doing?”

John was digging through the ‘S’ cabinet, rifling through folders. “Looking for something,” he grunted.

“Looking for- John. What are you looking for.” it wasn’t a question. Sherlock knew what John was looking for, or at the very least had a good guess.

“He’s looking for this, of course,” a thin, cold voice spoke from behind them. In the doorway, a man stood. He was in his 60’s, with a significant gut and thinning gray hair. In his hand was a manila folder, stuffed fuller than the one marked Flora Hawkins. On it was the name Sherlock Holmes.

“You look surprised to see this, Mr. Holmes. Curious, that you’re surprised while Dr. Watson isn’t. After all, didn’t I send you all this myself?” Crawford drawled. At Sherlock’s confusion, he laughed, high and cruel. “You don’t know! Watson here has seen your deepest secret, and you didn’t even know!”

Sherlock stiffened. “Watson, what’s this about?”

John bit his lip guiltily. “Yesterday, when you were asleep, you received a text.”

“And you read it?!” Sherlock asked, hurt.

John winced, “I’m sorry, Sherlock. I really am.”

Sherlock looked down, unable to meet John’s stare. “What did you see?”

“I can answer that,” Crawford said, disproportionately cheerful. “Watson here is totally aware of your little crush on him. Isn’t that right?”

John fixed Crawford with a murderous glare. “Fuck off.”

“Heh, I’ll take that as a yes.” Crawford smirked.

Sherlock grit his teeth, not daring to look at John. He knew. Had known for a while now, in fact. Their friendship, which Sherlock had grown to cherish, while not necessarily over, was certainly damaged. Would John be able to look him in the eye, or compliment his brilliance, or any of the other little things Sherlock loved to see him do again without feeling awkward?

“Worry not, Holmes. You needn’t mourn the loss of your friendship for long. You two aren’t going anywhere,” Crawford shut and locked the door, then meandered over to the desk and unlocked a small drawer. From it, he produced a revolver. He flicked off the safety and pointed it at Sherlock. “A single move from you, from either of you,” Crawford said, flicking the gun at John, who’d made a move toward him, “And I’ll blow your brains out.”

“What do you want from us?” John asked tensely.

“Your deaths, mostly,” Crawford said easily. “I can’t have you ruining my empire. But I suppose I could settle for your quiet retirement. If you leave the country and never return, I might not have to kill you.”

“Fuck off,” John hissed. “That’s not happening.”

Crawford shrugged. “Okay. I’m not picky. I suppose I’ll just have to kill you then.” He brandished the weapon between John and Sherlock. “Let’s see, who first? How about… You.” Crawford aimed the gun at John. “I’ll enjoy the look on our consulting detective’s face when his boyfriend gets a bullet to the head.” His finger twitched on the trigger.

John closed his eyes, bracing for impact. Sherlock made an aborted leap for John, sweat beading on his brow.

Suddenly, Crawford was bowled over as Mariana sent his desk chair flying into him. He hit the ground with a curse, gun flying out of his hand. Sherlock leapt forward, snatching the gun from him and pointing it at him. Mariana leveled a kick at Crawford’s vital organs.

“John, call the police!” Sherlock barked.

As John dialed the police, Mariana and Sherlock worked to restrain Crawford and tie him up. When the police arrived, they took the three of them in for questioning. It was well into the afternoon by the time they returned to Baker Street. The air was charged with an awkward tension. Mariana left them on the steps to 221B, unable to be rid of the tense atmosphere soon enough. John and Sherlock stood in their disordered flat, resolutely looking anywhere but each other.

“John,” Sherlock began, at the same time John said, “Sherlock.”

They both stared at each other, then chuckled awkwardly. John motioned for Sherlock to continue.

“I understand if, in light of some new developments, you find yourself, ah, unable to maintain friendly relations with. Me.” Sherlock’s voice broke, and he glanced away, twisting his hands.

“Sherlock, I-”

“I get it. My feelings are unreciprocated, and I wouldn’t expect you to return them. I have made peace with them. I would not want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable my ass!” John snapped. “If anyone’s uncomfortable here, it’s you.” His voice softened. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy like I did. I shouldn’t have read your texts.”

“Quite alright,” Sherlock said, waving off the apology. “I forgive you.” His posture was still stiff, and he still refused to look at John.

“Hey, look at me, Sherlock.” John reached his hand up to brush Sherlock’s cheek. Sherlock flinched softly at the touch. “Even if I wish it was with better circumstances, I’m glad things turned out the way they did. Because, well…” John leaned in and kissed Sherlock.

Sherlock froze like a deer in headlights, making no move to reciprocate or even indicate he was still alive. When John pulled away, he gasped for air like a drowning man, searching John’s face for answers uncomprehendingly.

“I love you too, Sherlock.” John said simply, a sappy grin breaking his rosy cheeks.

Sherlock was sure he was grinning just as hard when he pulled John in for another kiss.

#not sure if im doing this correctly or not tbh #sherlock and co #john watson #submission #sherlock & co #sherlock homes #mariana ametxazurra #flashbang event

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jentledaisies · 5 months ago

Text

NOW LOADING. . . THEY GET YOU

[ gif by @laalisas ]

✎ in which your lover sweeps you into the beginning of forever after OR in which the mafia!pinks get what they want; you.

WARNINGS .ᐟ ⤷ Sexual content but nothing graphic, Illusions to Sexual Assault, Manipulation, Toxic Relationships, Graphic scenes of violence and death.

disclaimer: This is not in any way shape or form a representation of Jisoo, Jennie, Rosè, Lisa, or Blackpink as a whole. All reactions, actions, thoughts, words, and general emotions are fiction and created by me. The behavior shown in these reactions is toxic and unhealthy but fantasized romantically for simply that, fantasy. None of this should be taken seriously or sought after in real life, or performed. please do not romanticize this behavior/mindset in real life as it is unhealthy and toxic, and if you or anyone you know is in such an environment, should be taken out of it immediately. Again, this blog is purely fiction, and all acts taken place in this blog should remain so. ↳ None of my characters, yandere or otherwise, will ever nor would ever perform, act, or consider sexual activities of any sort without consent. full stop. Any and all sexual acts are done with the full consent of all parties taking place. i will never, ever, ever write otherwise or even consider writing otherwise.

[KIM JISOO]

[ gif by @kimjisoo ]

You were a very naive person, Jisoo knew this after just a day of following you. After leaving the flower shop she had returned to headquarters, where she had all her equipment. From there it was all too easy to hack into the shop's online history, seeing that you did, luckily for her unfortunate for you, pay with a card. After getting your name she was able to track down where you work and receive all your personal information. From there she had Chaeng place cameras in your apartment and extra personal cameras in your work. She was quite lucky to have been captured into your following, you were an easy girl to track. You stayed mainly at home save for the days you had work and when you went to get groceries. There were the odd days when you went out to meet friends or gather some more books to add to your large collection. On those days all Jisoo had to do was alert a group of subordinates and they'd follow you, sending updates every 10 minutes.

Jisoo was lucky, for all three of the other leaders had found their loves obsessions already and were more than eager to help Jisoo capture you. Jennie had placed everything on halt, all deals, meetings, etc. put on hold until they got you. You were top priority. Chaeng was in charge of your in-person surveillance, Lisa was preparing to have another lover to chip, and Jennie was busy overseeing it all as though it was any other important operation.

That all led to now, 2 weeks later with Jisoo staring longingly at you through the screen that showed the live feed from your apartment. There you sat on your couch, windows open to the light rain and the sweet smell it brought, in an oversized sweater and a book in your hands.

2 weeks. It had been 2 weeks of planning, talking with the other girls, discussing the best way to get you quickly without creating fear in your mind. 2 weeks of sheer torture of having you so close but unable to bring you into her arms. 2 weeks of watching your hands wander late at night, breathy moans spilling from your lips. 2 weeks of seeing you live your boring, mundane life, knowing that you could be living a much more satisfying life by her side.

Jisoo's thoughts drifted off from seeing you in such a domestic scene, imagining what it'll be like when she finally has you. As she snapped back to reality she saw you gone from the living room, switching the camera until she got to the one in your room, being met with the teasing image of your bare body as you got ready for work. Jisoo quickly transferred the screen onto her phone before rushing out of her tech room and into the private lounge where the other girls were.

"It's time. Let's go get my Darling, I've waited so long." Jisoo ordered and all the girls sprung up, already ready in their operation clothes. They filed into the large SUV all the equipment ready to grab you, the selected teams of subordinates following in other cars.

It was planned that they would get you tonight. They would sneak a special drug that Lisa prepared into a water bottle you would drink from during your break. You'd go outside for the breath of fresh air you always get from the busy department store, in the secluded alley outback where Chaeng and Jennie would be waiting to grab your drugged body and get you into the van. All the while this was happening, Alpha team was taking down all the cameras in your apartment and then messing with the gas lines before leaving the stove on and leaving.

All that was left of you was the memory that you disappeared from work during your break, and then your apartment burned down, leaving no salvageable items. All the world knew of you now, was that you were on the run, possibly far from Korea, where anyone knows you. But you were right where you were supposed to be, with Jisoo.

[KIM JENNIE]

[ gif by @jaennie ]

Silence rang out after the three shots hit their marks, the bodies of the three men bleeding onto the porcelain black and white tiling of the ground. Your breaths came out in heavy gasps as you realized that you had just been saved from the hands of your captors by another captor. Jennie’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, your back flush with her front. The three other girls with her spread out in front of the two of you, guns drawn in their hands and pointed out, ready to shoot.

"Choi Lee-Hyun! Show yourself, you bastard!" Jennie yelled out into the now silent diner, a man dressed in an obnoxious purple fur coat stepped out.

"Miss Kim, Miss Kim, Miss Park, and Miss Manobal. How wonderful to meet you. Although, I had hoped to take care of you before you could see my face." He spoke clearly with precise calmness, but burning anger could be seen in the way he held his body and glared at the four girls.

"You dare try and ambush us?" Rosé sneered angrily, both her hands holding guns aimed toward the man. “We offered to come to negotiate peace, and you try to betray us. You weren’t even smart about it, dumbass. You got caught, do you have a death wish?”

“The only deaths I wish for are the deaths of you and your little girl bands, Miss Park.” Lee-Hyun spat in retaliation, pulling out guns of his own. Jennie’s arm tightens around you as she pulls you further into her for protection. Her gun fires off a shot in warning, the milkshake glass on the counter behind the obnoxious man exploding from the force of the bullet.

"The only death you're getting is your own, asshole. We may have come in peace, but we're not stupid. Did you really think we wouldn't prepare for if you betrayed us?" Jennie spoke from behind you, her voice calm and cool but you could feel the tenseness in her body. "You're fucked, man. You should've just taken the money and ran like we agreed to. At least then you'd keep your life."

Lee-Hyun opened his mouth to retaliate but all the girls started firing off bullets, hitting the kneecaps of every rival gang member there. Jisoo broke off from the girls and ran to the wall by the door while pulling something from her coat. The next thing you knew the entire wall was doused in flames, the orange streaks of heat spreading across the walls and floor at an alarming pace, as though there was gasoline drenching the corners. Jennie started pulling you with her outside and you vaguely register the other girls rushing out too. Fire trucks are already on scene, but you know that there's nothing they could do now, the entire establishment already fully engulfed in flames, the doorway you just came through collapsing.

A shock blanket is wrapped around you from behind and you're suddenly made aware that Jennie is no longer holding onto you. The kind lady behind you is speaking in a comforting tone, her voice soft and familiar, but you can only focus on the burning building in front of you. The first person inside started screaming as the roof caved in, and tears fell from your eyes in horror. You're being pushed by the kind lady now, ushered away from all the firetrucks struggling to unload the water pipes. You start to question why you are being led to a dark SUV much too late, for Lisa steps in front of you and holds a damp cloth to your mouth and nose, your mind going hazy immediately as she lifts you into the car with Rosé. Your head is placed on Jennie's lap as she smiles at you before your entire world goes dark.

[PARK CHAEYOUNG / ROSÉ]

[ gif by @lavenderosie ]

Rosé was absolutely livid at the fact that she still didn't have you in her arms. There was no particular reason why after a month you still weren't in her possession other than the fact that the mafia world was busy lately. But that's not what mattered, what mattered was you were talking to your friend about auditioning to be a stripper at her club! Which was fine, she'd be perfectly fine with you being a stripper, as long as it's only at her club. But, you weren't with her yet. You were hers, everyone knew that by now, everyone but you.

As she watched your audition from the extra camera she had Jisoo install she gritted her teeth at your unmarked skin. Your beautiful, perfect skin, completely bare of Rosé's marks. Your body belonged to her, you belonged to her, yet there was nothing showing it. Why? Because Choi fucking Lee-Hyun decided now would be a good time to pick a fight. Rosé was fucking pissed.

And on top of all that, you looked absolutely delectable in the black one-piece with gold chains. You always looked good but fuck, when you flipped your hair and collapsed into that body roll all Rosé could think of was having you under her. Making you cum at least three times on her fingers before moving onto her tongue, finally ending with you clenching around her strap as she fucks you dumb. That's not what was making her mad, it was actually making her more excited to have you. What made her mad was that she could see the new security guy she hired looking at you with longing and lust, knowing he was thinking of doing the same thing. She sees him lick at his lips as you grind onto the pole and she snaps.

Shoving away from the table that held her laptop, Rosé stood up. She groaned as she felt her arousal coat her underwear, the feeling making her more desperate to have you here so she can order you to clean up the mess you made. She grabs a gun from her personal collection, tucking it into the waistband of your pants under your jacket, grabbing an extra one to place in her shoe holster. A couple of knives are added in hidden places before finally she grabs the bottle of chloroform Lisa gave her. She stormed out to her car, no plan in mind, just the fact that she would have you today, and she'd kill anyone in her way. Well, she'd kill that security guard anyway, he's a little too annoying.

The engine of her sports car practically purrs as she speeds through the streets of Seoul, eager to finally old you. She arrives at the club in record time, cocking her gun as she steps out. She's glad for her impatience as she's drawn to the alley between the bar and another shop by your whimpers.

"Please, stop. I don't want this." As she rounds the corner she's met with the sight of you being groped by that fucking security guard, makeup smeared under your eyes from crying as you try and shrink away but the wall won't let you.

"Aw c'mon. You were dancing like a little slut in there, you clearly want it. It's obvious how desperate you are so let me have my fun and be a good whore." He reaches up to yank at the collar of the dress you now wore but is stopped by Rosé's shout of anger.

"Yah, you fucking piece of shit! Get your hands off my girl!" Rosé is shaking in anger as he turns to face her with an unimpressed look.

"Fuck off. Who do you think you are, ordering me around? I'll give you her once I'm done, you can have my sloppy seconds. Desperate bitch.”

Rosé doesn't say anything, shooting a shot off at his foot, laughing as the blood splatters up his leg. You run away from his loosened grip and hide behind Rosé, your hands gripping her waist to keep her in front of you. The smile on her face becomes genuine at your touch.

"Listen to me, I need you to go and hide in my car. It's the red one, go." Rosé tells you over her shoulder, advancing on the man once she hears the door of her car shut.

She shoots another bullet into his other foot, tucking the gun away after that, he deserved to be tortured to death. She pulls out her daggers from where they were hidden, waiting patiently for the man to stop screaming.

"I'm Rosé. You should've listened to me when I told you to get your hands off my girl." His eyes widen as Rosé sends him a cocky smirk, realizing just how badly he fucked up. He starts begging and whimpering for his life, but all Rosé does is give him a haunting smile before bringing the small blade down.

Rosé opens her door before collapsing down into the driver's seat of her car, letting out a tired sigh before looking over at you. Your eyes widen at her now crimson-soaked hoodie, faint patches of the original white sticking out. You start fumbling with the door but it remains closed as Rosé wets a cloth with a substance from the bottle in the cupholder. And when she greets you by name your eyes start to tear up in fear before she's knocked into a state of rest from the chemical cloth

[LALISA MANOBAL / LISA]

[ gif by @luxyjenlisa ]

Someone is shouting. But all Lisa can focus on is your sweet form laying on the ground, bleeding from the wound in your abdomen. Someone is shouting at her, she realizes as she starts to come back to reality. The meeting room is cleared of anyone who isn't part of her gang, except for you. There’s one of her subordinates in front of her, shouting to bring her back from her reverie, she looks quite sorry she was ever born when Lisa sends her a scathing glare on reflex. She’s asking if they should finish you off, soldiers already dragging the fat old man's body out, leaving a trail of blood on the floor. She sees hands reaching toward your body before she can speak and her body stiffens in preparation to run to you.

"Touch her and I will dissect your hands from your body and make you eat them." She found herself growling at the poor soldier. At the gobsmacked stares she receives, she straightens up and clears her throat before speaking in a hard, clear tone. "From this point on, this woman is mine. She belongs to me and I will punish anyone who hurts my Angel. Now stop standing around like useless idiots and get me my first aid kit. You! Go get a stretcher and prepare my medical room."

That seemed to snap them out of it as everyone moved into action and various people rushed around the room and out of the room. Nobody touched you, however, even to help you, as they were too scared of Lisa. You looked up at Lisa as she came closer to you, your vision blurry but still able to see as the cold, uncaring woman turned warm and soft as she reassured you that you'd be ok. A pressure on your wound has you screaming out until you are once again shushed by her reassuring words before there's a prick in your arm and you fade into darkness.

----

You wake up in a white room, it's not a hospital room but it definitely feels like one. It was clean and bright, and that horrible smell of alcohol that breathes in the hospital was still there, but it was faint. That's where the similarities stopped. You were on a very large bed with a memory foam mattress and plush pillows under you. Panic starts to settle into you as you start recalling the events that took place before you had fallen into your slumber. You were shot, and you're assuming the rest of the gang left you, you weren't important enough to save and they were new and already risking a lot by agreeing to meet with BP.

The machine hooked up to you starts speeding up in beeps as your breath grows heavier, panic setting in full now. You toss the sheets off your body, seeing yourself dressed in a t-shirt and sweats instead of those horrible skintight dresses they would make you wear at your gang. You jump out of bed and lung towards the door but are stopped by a sharp tug on your arm and a flash of pain. You turn and see an IV needle connected to your arm, the tape holding it in place holding it fast. ou don't think about it when you rip it out of your arm, tearing the tape. You quickly come to regret it however when you end up tearing a large gash right over your vein, blood gushing down. You take a moment to silently scream, you didn't want your captors to know you were awake, before lunging towards the door again, luckily finding it open.

However, as you swing the door open, you are met with the tall figure of Lisa, who looks at you in surprise and happiness, until her eyes land on your injured arm. She immediately pushes you back into the room, easily guiding you back into the bed and immediately grabbing the necessary items to wrap your arm. She doesn't talk while she wraps your arm but when you start to struggle and fight when she goes to put a new needle in your other arm she pins you down on the bed and hovers over your body. A sweet smile on her face and a horrifyingly loving look in her eyes.

"Baby, stop fighting. They can't hurt you now, or ever again, don't worry. I'll keep you safe. Forever, I promise."

#yandere!blackpink #blackpink yandere #yandere jisoo #yandere jennie #yandere rosé #yandere lisa #yan!mafia!blackpink #blackpink jisoo #blackpink jennie #blackpink rosé #blackpink lisa

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