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yanderenightmare · 4 years

Note

ooh I wanna see ua bakugo frustrate with his affection over this clueless moron, kinda like shoto, like he gives her like a flower and she's just like wuut .__.

yandere ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

This is so cute, I can’t. Don’t know if this is what you wanted hahahaha, but I have a weak spot for like Luna Lovegood girls, like Alice in Wonderland derpy pigtailed pastel Melanie Martinez lookin’ cupcakes. And made this still in the UA au... hope that’s ok!

goodiebag WARNINGS: slight yandere, slight dubcon theme, profanity, anxiety, hallucinations, stalking

SCARY LOVE

He felt like such a stalker, like a wolf hiding in the grass, just a disgusting waste of a human being standing and ogling her from the safe distance, far enough away that she wouldn’t care to look up, but just close enough to see the color in her eyes from where she was planted in the shade under the campus willow-tree.

Why was she so fucking cute?

Her locks knotted up into two big messy buns, big splendid pastel bows tying them both into place, one blue, the other pink, matching puffy scrunchies decorating both her wrists. Cute. Small wisps of light flowing hair falling in front of her face, tickling her nose, making it scrunch like a how bunny would every now and again. Cute. White ruffled socks reaching halfway up her leg. Cute. Her knees baring pastel-colored band-aids and small scrapes and purple bruises, in the same state her elbows were. Cute. Nimble fingers handling the book that seemed so out-of-place in its size where it weighed down heavily in her lap. She looked like such a fucking fairytale. A soft-tinted cotton-candy daydream.

Ready to have his bloody hands fuck up everything.

Bloody hell. What the fuck is he doing?

He can’t just stand there like some lovesick freak and do nothing, simply waiting for the school-bell to sound off its alarm, making her jump up like a little bunny popping up from its rabbit-hole where she’ll struggle with carrying that ridiculous book and sit down in class only to daydream about going back outside, but not before she’ll walk past him, allowing him to smell that sweet perfume that always has his heart clenching furiously in his chest and his cock growing warm and heavy in his pants.

What is wrong with him?

He can’t be thinking of her like that. This sweet precious little flower sitting so quietly with no wish to bother anyone, so soft and sweet he bet she’d cry if she so much as stepped on an ant. He wondered if she was a crier, if she’d be this adorable little crybaby ball of sobs and wet moans beneath him. He wondered what types of sound she’d make if he shoved his cock inside her. If she’d squeal and gasp and hiccup at his size, if she’d mewl, if she’d whimper, if she’d scream.

Fuck.

He needed to calm the fuck down.

To think he would never have met her if he hadn’t been forced to sign up to that stupid side-course. To think he was so mad that he didn’t make the cut for the class about war-theory and was forced to take philosophy with a bunch of air-headed freaks instead. To think he almost didn’t meet her. To think- fuck, he’s even starting to sound like one of them fucking philosophy-ditzes.

To be or not to be, or to drool over the girl sitting beneath the willow-tree.

Maybe that’s what he should submit next time they have one of those moronic poetry sessions. Perhaps then she would look at him with interest, with surprise and even praise, maybe even reverence, mirroring the look he gives her when she stands on the podium reciting her swirling words and artful descriptions, looking as though she’s entirely in her own world, dreaming, not just speaking but preaching, preaching to him about gods he’s never heard of yet somehow always believed in.

He used to believe gods drank blood and could only be celebrated through pain, that they made creatures like him, crafted him from dragon bones and fire and everything sharp and deadly, crafting him from war for war to become war itself, to find purpose in conquering, to find worth in glory. But now… looking at this creature, this creature who celebrates life and not death through laughter and daydreams and love far away from pain, he knows he’s had it all wrong.

He’s no good with words. He never has been. Except when insulting people, then he turns into a fucking lyric. What she can do is a gift. Either that, or she’s simply just insane. Either way, he doesn’t really care. She’s still soft, a tender type of madness, sweet and small and would look so good with a couple of love-bites to crash that display of milk and cream and cotton, so fucking brilliant with his handprint marking her ass… and he’s doing it again.

Fuck.

None of that will happen if he doesn’t grow a pair and go talk to her. But he can’t just talk to her. He has nothing to say. Or he has plenty to say, but nothing she could hear. He needed to find the most straightforward approach, however… while it needed to be unmistakable or lest she misunderstand, it couldn’t be aggressive. That would frighten her and he couldn’t risk spooking her away. He couldn’t risk ruining everything. It was apparent she didn’t think too much of him except that he was an angry looking boy in her Friday-classes, he needed to prove he too could be… sweet… or at least something akin to it.

He was wrong in thinking that anything would make her look up from her book. Even as he stood a mere meter away from her, she didn’t look up, completely lost and submerged in her own world as she always was. Only when he cleared his throat did she finally lift her gaze, eyes fluttering from traveling the pages and blinked softly to look up at him.

Cute.

He forgot to say anything, with a hand reached out, fisting the air, knuckles whitening in his grip, where inside the seemingly furious hand was something to contrast his otherwise deadly red stare.

The look of puzzlement on her face was insurmountable. Her small hands giving no indication to receive whatever he was offering.

“Is this a threat?” Came her soft voice, shaking him out of the faze he’d slipped into, though quickly plunging him into another one, this time not so much anticipation but confusion.

“What? No!” The both of them simply looked at each other for a moment. Bakugo’s hand still protruding out towards her, the thing in his hand no more tempting to accept than before to the girl who was still planted, making no action to get up from her spot.

“I don’t understand…” She admitted, wondering if he perhaps wanted her seat in the shade, but wasn’t given the time to ask the question as he decided to clear things up.

“It’s a flower.”

She could see that. It was a flower ripped from its root, an otherwise healthy flower before being suffocated in Bakugo’s death-grip.

“It’s a dead flower…” She corrected, a hint of sorrow on her features and he knew he was already failing in his pursuit, wanting to make things right before they could derail even more.

“It’s pretty... like you.” That came out as even more an ominous threat he realized, indicating she’d end up like the proven pretty dead flower in his chokehold.

“Are you sure this isn’t a threat?” The fact that she felt the need to ask him not only once but twice told him all he needed to know of her thoughts regarding him. She obviously thought he was a deranged explosive beast from the Hero-course.

“Goddamn it, no, I…” He frustrated, finding it hard to arrange the words, finding it hard to even find the words. “You… You’re so… You-” She was oblivious to how much he was struggling it seemed, as her personality suddenly shifted and she jumped up, book thrown to her side rather recklessly, skirt with ruffles and all bouncy with the same vigor as her tits.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together, eyes wide with such bright light Bakugo almost felt blinded by, it even managing to frightened him a bit. “Thank you, that’s very good to know! I’d be terrified if I was anyone but me!” His brows lifted in dawning realization, feeling safer by being calmed by the reminder of how he was talking to a ditz, a complete mental-case… though… a mental-case who’d managed to dance her way and get lost in his heart. “Pardon me for being so blunt, but I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t ask.” Preparing him for her question, she leant in just a bit more, looking at him intently. “Are you yourself today, Bakugo?”

As absurd as the question was to him, when it rolled off her tongue it nearly seemed like the most casual of things to ask someone, as though she was requesting his thoughts on the weather. And though it was the epitome of peculiar, the more he thought about it, the more he realized how appropriate the question was, because he were, in fact, not at all feeling like himself.

“… No.”

She gave a contemplative look and a hum. “Then you must be Baku-gone…” He couldn’t hold back the snort that followed her statement, again being reminded of what a complete klutz she was, something so far away from his cynical view of the world and something far more relaxing than what his fears had managed to conjure of her rejection. It seemed so ridiculous now, that he’d thought she would run away or scream, never having let himself imagine her in what he knew was her true nature, light-hearted and incapable of doing any harm, at least not on purpose. “Wow, you really must be, huh?” She continued, fishing him out of his curt chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh. Come to think of it… I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you smile.” She mused, admiring the small pleasantness stretched upon his face.

But then his brows furrowed, the happiness seeping from his features and leaving them contorted with annoyance, much to her dismay, regretting her choice of words. “I smile.” He argued, looking at her as though demanding she explain herself.

She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him, scrunching her brows and biting her lip for a second or two as though she were in deep thought, not wanting to upset him any further, though not wanting to speak without candidness. “No… you… bare teeth… like a wolf eager to catch its prey.” His ears retracted, features taken aback by her observation, finding he couldn’t quite say otherwise, though he’d never viewed it that way, but again, the more he thought about it, the more all her strange words made sense as he found them to be true. Silly of him to think his wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing approach could fool her, silly of him to think he could fool himself into believing she’d ever consider going out with someone so… predatory.

Though, minds are easily swayed, he reminded himself of. Her opinion of him wasn’t set in stone after all. “Does it scare you?” He finally asked, finding that was the only thing he was actually curious about. Though… perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing if she did fear him just a bit, because god knows how terrified he is of her and how she makes him feel as though he’s bleeding or falling or stripped of everything, cut by the knees and naked and so very needy to have her just look at him.

“I would say no, but I cannot lie.” His heart sunk upon hearing her admit it, disappointed, not sure if it was in her or in him.

She’s scared… Of course, she is scared! Who wouldn’t be? Dumb of him to think anything else.

“But, that’s rather the point isn’t it? To scare people?” She took a step forward, eyes bright and hopeful, hating to think she’d upset him.

“Not you.” It was barely above a whisper, words simply cast out there, and it left the girl looking perplexed, curious and even guilt-stricken or ashamed.

“Well… I shouldn’t fear things I know too little about… that would be silly…” She felt the urge to touch him, wanting him to truly hear her words, wanting to enforce them by touch, yet as her hands reached out to take his all so brazenly her eyes fell upon the flower again. She didn’t really have any wish to touch something dead, it always being such a cold and empty feeling running like ice through her veins, yet she reached out to receive the flower anyway, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “So, if not my fear, what is it this Bakugone wishes of me then?” She slipped on a tender smile, genuine and perfect, her soft fingertips brushing against his.

“I…” He was so focused on how she was touching him, the pressure, the elegance, the perfection, so focused he forgot the words again, so focused on her soft fingertips, her warmth, her pastel-manicured nails, he didn’t realize how the movement had stilled.

“You want to eat my heart.”

Her voice made him look up from where they were conjoined, crimson orbs dragged slowly to meet the oddity of her voice no less her words, yet as he looked, he continued to search because he found no eyes looking back at him, only whites, wide gleaming glowing void whites staring at him.

“You want to rip open my ribcage and feast.” Shaken and confused his brows twisted as he yet again tried to find her eyes. “You want to see me burst and bloom for you.” He hadn’t tried pulling his hand away, not really wanting to either, but he realized he perhaps wouldn’t be able to even if he’d wanted with how hard she was now digging her once soft fingers into his wrist. “You want to cripple me. You want to hear my deathbed confession. You want to lick the sin from my expression.” Her brows were the ones to crinkle now as she inhaled a shuddering breath, her hand shaking as she held onto him, seemingly as though her life depended on it. “You want and you’ve been wanting for so long. You want and want, there’s no end to what you want.” Her voice was now frantic, sporadic, hitched and frightened. “You want more and more and more and more and more-” She shook so much she lost her footing and tripped, staggering back and hitting the dirt with a sharp thud, knocking her out of whatever trance she’d slipped into, no more words coming thundering from her lips except for a cute little exclamation of oof, fluffy skirt puffed out around her like a jellyfish.

“What the fuck!” He shouted once she let go, flower falling to the floor, dropped in the midst of his shock and confusion as to what had happened, yet also feeling embarrassed with how she’d seemed to have caught him red-handed, and shaken with how much she knew, disturbed with how it all had been phrased, yet concerned, concerned because he knew he’d failed, he’d scared her so much she nearly melted, but somehow even more concerned with how she’d hit the ground. “I’m-” She looked up at him and he was left dumbstruck with how wide her eyes were and how full they now seemed with the return of her irises and pupils. No longer looking like wax, but like great gems or galaxies he couldn’t help but fall prey to, especially with how glossy they were, shining and glimmering and wet, wet with tears.

“No wonder you feel gone.” She suddenly mumbled, or it wasn’t exactly a mumble, but in contrast to whatever voice she spoke in before it surely seemed subdued. “Someone’s run off with your heart!” She clumsily got back to her feet, gripping his shoulders, nearly making him stagger back and fall with just how intense and vivid her actions were thrown at him. “You’re in love!” She squealed, nearly screaming it at him, before reeling herself back in, probably only now realizing how she’d attacked the boy. “Excuse me, I mean pardon, I mean I’m terribly sorry if I frightened you.” She backed away, fingers playing with each other as she tumbled through her sentence. “It’s my quirk you see. It has a habit of living its own life. I didn’t mean to spout out your desires like that, it was a total invasion of your privacy and completely rude and unethical on my side. I really am so sorry. Would you forgive me?”

Wasn’t he the one who should be apologizing to her?

He remained stunned and confused and growing even more so by the second as she spoke. “Perhaps I could make it up to you? Perhaps I can help you in your quest to retrieve your heart? Who is the thief?”

And there it was.

She was so overwhelmed she didn’t even pick up who the emotions were for.

Silly thing.

This made him ease up. He hadn’t spoiled everything yet. In fact, she seemed even more enthusiastic now than before, even more eager to talk to him and help him even. “Is it that green-haired boy? What was his name again? Something with D or M, I can’t for the life of me remember! Or perhaps it’s the floaty one? You know, the one with the big brown eyes. No! I know who it is, it’s the one with the shark teeth, and the spikey red hair-” She rambled, and even though some of her suggestions revolted him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her when she was so… so bouncy with thrill, so cute with how her tits squeezed together in her top and jumped for him with every word that fell from those lushes pink lips that would feel so good to bite into and feel on his neck and down his chest and-

“You can help me.” He suddenly blurted, whipping her from her rambling.

“Really?!” Big eyes, filled with such expectancy and acceptance of whatever he was about to request even without a shred of knowing what. “How?” It was as though it were her life wish to help, that denying him would mean death or something even worse in her eyes.

“By making it up to me.”

His grin returned, the one that lacked… not exactly happiness, because there was still a certain glee to it, a certain enjoyment, yet lacking altruism and was instead left looking greedy and gluttonous and as though he was made up of… teeth, and only teeth, and too many teeth, and that those teeth were too sharp.

“Oh.” She seemed drained of her vigorous passion, like a light snuffed out, swallowing thickly. And though she knew it all to be in her head, knew it all to be but a figment of her fears, she still took a step back as though she’d seen something that worried her, and was quickly followed by what had worried her as Bakugo paralleled her backtracking, leaving her no further away from his hungry open-mouthed smirk.

“Kiss me.” She realized she’d backed all the way into the tree, her back meeting the hard trunk seemed to shake her from her vision as the biting image submerged and left her with a quite normal-looking Bakugo towering over her, no longer Bakugone or just a toothy grin, and she was left deciding whether it was any better or maybe even worse than what she had been picturing.

Yet, she had no time to think as Bakugo’s hand raised to cup her cheek, where in the seconds it took for him to do so, she needed to prepare herself for all his obsessive lovesick thoughts she knew would yet again flood her mind, only now she wouldn’t shake from them, and what more, now she knew who they were about. Poor thing had taken Bakugo’s heart without knowing, without knowing to prepare for Bakugo’s blood-stained scarred hand to reach into her chest and hold her own terror-wide heart in a chokehold as he too took it for himself. Without knowing how to protect herself from his many sharp teeth that would steal and eat to satiate what livid hungry fire, what desperate thirst she’d awoken inside his heart, to relieve the pain of it all, to finally breath again, to find safety, to find belonging, to find life. And she had no way of preparing for it, no way of protecting herself from it, no way of hiding from Bakugo’s sharp teeth… but when his hand, his calloused sandpaper-textured palm handled her cheek she was met with a new image, a soft-tinted mellow yet dramatic rhapsodic fire, one that she rather cherished than feared, one that she felt like chasing, one that seemed like it was calling her.

Bakugo leaned in slowly, as though asking for permission, receiving no complaints, just a set of large eyes staring at him. Her hands, feeling as though their fingertips had plunged deep into the bark of the tree behind her, ripped loose to touch him, feeling the simmering plethora of brutally violent passions swimming beneath them as they hovered on top of his skin. Tasting it on her tongue as he captured her soft lips with his own stiff ones. She could taste the hunger, the teeth, the longing, the pain, the fire, the waiting and time he’d suffered in the darkness all alone, she could taste the war, but more… she could taste the fear, the fear of losing or not having at all, and at the very tip of her tongue, stronger than anything else, she caught it, the flavor crystalized like sugar… hope… love.

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rafael-silva · 4 years

Text

found a home in you: a tarlos fic

The fire had been small and easy to extinguish, but as a precaution, Owen had sent TK to do a walk around the house to make sure it was out and everything was secure.

TK carefully inspects the side of the house, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

He’s about to move on once he’s satisfied that everything is fine, but stops in his tracks when he hears a low whimper. It’s so small and frightened, he would have missed it if his foot had crunched the fallen leaves littered on the ground as he moved.

Alternatively: The last thing TK expected to hear during his walk around a house after a call, were low whimpers and cries coming from a nearby bush.

for the good things happen bingo: tarlos + adopting a pet

established tk strand/carlos reyes, fluff, team as family, soft carlos reyes, soft tk strand, domestic fic, cuddles, kisses, comfort, this is really 5.3k of pure fluff

5.3k | on ao3

*****

“Strand, report.”

TK presses down on the button to reply, momentarily sending static through the radio. “All good on the south, east and north sides, Cap. Moving to the west side now.”

The fire had been small and easy to extinguish, but as a precaution, Owen had sent TK to do a walk around the house to make sure it was out and everything was secure.

TK carefully inspects the side of the house, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. He’s about to move on once he’s satisfied that everything is fine, but stops in his tracks when he hears a low whimper. It’s so small and frightened, he would have missed it if his foot had crunched the fallen leaves littered on the ground beneath him.

He hears more whines. Careful of his speed and movements, TK follows the sounds, eventually leading him to a nearby bush. He switches on the flashlight attached to his turnout coat and shines the light into the shrub. He spots little movements, and then his eyes land on a small puppy, visibly shaking, trying to move through the tight space while looking at him with a fearful gaze.

TK’s face immediately softens and his heart grows a little at seeing the puppy.

Before he can move or say anything else, his radio comes to life and the sudden noise spooks the puppy and makes it retreat a little in the small space.

“TK, almost done?”

“Yeah, Cap. I’ll be just a minute,” TK replies.

The puppy is still looking at TK with an alarmed expression.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” TK speaks with a gentle tone, kneeling to be closer to the puppy, his movements slow and calculated. “You’re safe now.”

The puppy seems to relax the slightest bit at hearing TK’s voice, knowing it’s directed at it. However, still on edge though, the puppy still looks scared.

TK takes a look around, hoping to find anyone in the vicinity but quickly discovers it’s just him. Making up his mind, he takes off his turnout coat and lays it on the ground next to him, which proves to be the easy part. Sitting on his knees, he carefully reaches into the bush, aiming for the puppy but each time he gets close, the puppy’s cries get louder. Instinctively, TK pulls back and then tries again. After a few times, he manages to delicately wrap his hand around the puppy, pulling it out of the bush through its screaming and fidgeting. TK supposes the screaming could mean one of two things: the puppy has never been held before, so the human touch is foreign to it or the puppy has a negative connection with said human touch. The second option breaks TK’s heart a little.

He then efficiently wraps the puppy in his coat and holds it close to his chest. Although he could still hear some whimpering, the puppy seems to calm down a little at being held this way. It’s a warm Austin day, the sun’s heat bouncing off surfaces in the hot atmosphere, but TK supposes the puppy hasn’t felt the kind of warmth that comes with being gently held before.

“Hey, what’s that?” Paul asks when TK emerges, being the first to notice the little lump in TK’s arms.

Before TK can reply, the puppy’s little head sneaks out through the fabric, slightly intrigued by the new sound that is Paul’s voice.

“No way!” Mateo’s face lights up, his voice filled with excitement at seeing the puppy.

It’s clear the new stimuli and voices scare the puppy a little, because it turns its head towards TK again, looking for reassurance.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he smiles at the puppy, then to the crew: “Found this adorable little girl while doing the walk around.”

Judd’s the first to approach TK and the puppy, a smile spread on his face. “Hey, sweetheart.” He slowly extends his arm and pets her a few times. She’s still shaken but doesn’t cry at Judd’s touch.

“Do you mind for a sec?” TK asks Judd.

“Not at all,” Judd replies.

TK then carefully hands the puppy over to Judd, watching as Judd does the same as he did and holds her close and she snuggles against him. And the sight of seeing a big man like Judd cradling a tiny puppy against his chest is enough to melt any heart.

TK jogs over to Owen. “Can I ask around real quick?” He gestures to the crowd of onlookers that have gathered near the house.

“Sure,” Owen nods.

However, the peace is short lived, and at noticing TK’s absence, the puppy starts whimpering loudly and fidgeting in Judd’s hold. “I think she wants TK,” the Texan says as the rest of the team gather around to watch the puppy.

“Aw, she’s already attached to him,” Marjan says, her voice calm and playful.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Judd says lightly to the puppy. “TK will be back in a second.”

TK joins them a few minutes later. “She’s not anyone’s puppy, no one has seen her before.”

“Well, I guess that means she's coming back with us,” Judd says as he hands her back to TK. “Besides, she’s already attached to you, man.”

“Hey, come here,” TK coos, adjusting her against his chest. Being back in TK’s arms stops the whimpering coming from the puppy.

They hear Owen announce that it’s time to go and they all start piling into the firetruck, TK is the last one to get in, sitting by the window as Owen closes the door and hops into the front. The start of the big, loud engine startles the puppy and she starts shaking again, TK instantly runs his hand gently over her small body, trying to reassure her and calm her down. It works after a few minutes, and it seems like she grows a little braver because she’s climbing out of TK’s coat and taking a look outside the window as the city goes by in a blur.

TK still has a firm hold on her, and he’s looking down at her with a smile.

“Oh, this is just way too cute,” Paul speaks up, followed by him snapping more than a few pictures on his phone.

“Buttercup is at the firehouse today,” Mateo points out.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Marjan replies. “He’s the sweetest boy.”

“He is,” Owen joins the conversation. “But I guess we’ll find out his tendency towards jealously.”

“Yeah,” Paul agrees. “We all know how he is when it comes to his favorite person and how protective he gets.”

All eyes turn to TK at Paul’s words.

TK playfully rolls his eyes and chuckles. “It’s gonna be fine. If anything, I think he’s going to be super protective and loving towards this little girl.”

The truck is parked in the firehouse ten minutes later, and everyone jumps out while TK cautiously steps down.

“Alright, everyone, you know your chores,” Owen instructs. “TK, you take care of this little girl, get some towels, set them up for her and pour her some milk into a bowl and fill another one with water.”

TK nods and makes his way up the stairs, securing his hold on her as he ascends the steps.

He puts her down on the towels until he gets the water and milk for her, but as soon as he walks away, she starts crying and takes small steps in an effort to follow TK into the kitchen.

TK smiles when he notices and leans down to pick her up. He moves around the kitchen to retrieve a couple of bowls and then opens the fridge to take out the milk, using one hand to get everything ready.

Once the milk and water are set near the towels, she manages to take a few licks of both before she’s going back to TK.

“Alright, come here,” TK leans back against the cushion, settling her on his chest. She snuggles against his AFD t-shirt and closes her eyes.

TK keeps running his palm over her body, both to keep her calm and to make sure she’s clean until he takes her to the vet.

The ringing of his phone wakes her up, but doesn’t scare her too much. She’s clearly content in TK’s care.

TK smiles as he reads the caller ID.

“Hey, babe,” TK answers, the smile evident in his voice.

“Hi, baby,” comes Carlos’s reply.

“How’s your day been?”

“Fine,” Carlos replies. “Went on patrol for a few hours and back at the station now. Lunch break. How’s your shift been?”

“Last call was interesting,” TK responds.

“Yeah? How’s the puppy?” Carlos asks, and TK can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“You heard already?”

“Yeah,” Carlos chuckles. “Not heard as much as saw. Paul sent me a couple of pictures.”

“Ah,” TK mirrors Carlos’s chuckle.

“It may be the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” Carlos adds, affection radiating through his voice.

“She’s so small, Carlos,” TK says, his voice filled with awe. “She was so scared and she was shaking so much. She cried when I have her to Judd for a minute.”

“She feels safe with you. I know the feeling,” Carlos expresses, his tone filled with love.

A blush colors TK’s cheeks as he continues running his hand over the puppy’s short fur.

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s currently asleep,” TK replies. “Hold on.”

TK expertly snaps a selfie, showing him comfortably lying back against the cushions and the puppy propped up on his chest, fast asleep with a peaceful look on her little face.

“Check your messages,” TK tells Carlos once he sends it.

It takes Carlos a few seconds to reply. “My heart is exploding with how cute this is, Ty.”

TK chuckles.

“I have to go back to work,” Carlos says with some sadness. “But I’ll pass by the firehouse after my shift.”

It was one of the days Carlos finishes work before TK, and he’d usually head home right after, making dinner for them and waiting for his boyfriend to come home. But the puppy definitely calls for a slight change in plans.

“Okay, babe. Can’t wait to see you. Be careful, please.”

“I will,” Carlos promises. “Can’t wait to see you too, babe. And be careful, too.”

Once they end their phone call, TK looks up and sees Owen approach him with a small smile on his face. On cue, the puppy wakes up and stretches her tiny legs, letting out a yawn and then settles her eyes on TK.

“Hi, sweetheart,” TK smiles back at her.

“Can I?” Owen asks, gesturing to the puppy.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” TK nods. “But beware, she may not like it, given her track record with everyone. Don’t take it personally, though,” he adds with a chuckle.

The puppy proves TK right, because she lets out a cry as soon as she’s off TK’s chest. Owen raises an eyebrow and gently puts her back down, watching as she stops crying.

“It’s kinda hard to not take it personally,” Owen jokes. “I’m glad she feels safe with you.”

TK nods. “I’m getting attached to her, too. But we need to find out if her family is looking for her.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Carlos and I are off tomorrow, we can take her to the vet and check if she has a microchip. We can take it from there, and see what the options are if she doesn’t have a chip,” TK explains. “And for tonight, I was thinking of taking her back home with me, if Carlos would be okay with that.” TK takes a hold of the puppy, moving her up and steadies her against his collarbone, she snuggles there and pushes her face into TK’s neck, making him giggle as her nose brushes against one of his ticklish spots.

Owen nods. “That sounds like a good plan.” He spots movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look over his shoulder.

Buttercup makes his way into the space and goes straight to TK.

“Hey, buddy,” Owen says, petting Buttercup’s soft fur. “We have someone for you to meet. Let’s see how this goes.”

Buttercup looks between TK and Owen, his eyes questioning and then landing on the puppy.

Buttercup sniffs once and then twice and gets closer to her.

TK feels the puppy’s muscles tensing under his touch as she moves and sits up, looking at the older dog with wide eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” TK reassures the puppy with a soft voice, gently rubbing her back.

Owen slowly takes out his phone, careful of his movements so he doesn’t spook either dog. He opens the camera app and starts recording a video.

Buttercup sniffs a few more times, watching the puppy closely and then looks back up at TK again, his brown eyes speaking a thousand words.

Buttercup licks the side of the puppy’s face, and TK’s face splits into the biggest smile. He can feel her start to relax, too.

“There we go,” TK speaks. “You like her, huh, bud?” He ruffles Buttercup’s fur.

Buttercup’s response is a wagging his tail and giving TK a smile.

“Good boy,” Owen laughs, dropping a kiss to Buttercup’s head.

TK gets to his feet, Buttercup’s eyes trailed on him, and he takes a few steps away from the couch into the open area, Buttercup on his heels. TK puts the puppy down on the floor, and instead of crying this time, she gravitates towards Buttercup.

TK’s face lights up at the bond being forged between the two dogs. He watches as Buttercup walks over to the rug and plops down, the puppy following his steps and circles around a few times before settling down between Buttercup’s parted front legs, snuggling against his fur. Buttercup rubs his head against her little body in response and then lowers his head to the ground.

“He’s definitely her biggest fan now,” TK chuckles.

Owen nods with a smile on his face.

TK takes out his phone and captures a few pictures. He then opens his text thread with Carlos and attaches one of the photos.

TK: [attachment: 1 image]

TK: Puppy and Buttercup introduction is a success.

TK: More than a success, actually. They’re best friends now.

*****

Carlos parks his Camaro on the side of the firehouse, keeping the truck’s path clear. He walks in through the bay doors, dressed in his civvies, and spots Judd coming down the stairs. The firefighter notices him at the same time.

“Hey, Reyes,” Judd smiles, meeting Carlos halfway.

“Hey, Judd,” Carlos replies.

Judd gestures to the stairs behind him. “Your boy is upstairs with the newest addition to the crew.”

Carlos laughs. “An adorable addition.”

Judd nods, “damn right. Already has everyone wrapped around her little paws. Go join them, I’ll be back up in a sec.”

Carlos nods and takes the stairs. He follows the echoes of “aww” and the chuckles that come after until he steps into the living area, where everyone is seated (some of them on the couch, others on arms of said couch) while watching Buttercup and the puppy play together in the center.

It’s such a heartwarming sight, it could uplift anyone in a matter of seconds.

Carlos feels a smile take over his face, chuckling himself when the puppy pushes her body upwards and sets her front legs against Buttercup’s nose in an attempt to get the big dog to play with her. It seems Buttercup understands the size difference between them, because he’s gently nudging her sideways until she jumps back on the floor.

The puppy seems to be satisfied with that because once again, her excitement shows as she jumps on Buttercup again.

Carlos’s chuckle draws attention to him.

“Hey, Carlos,” Marjan says first as everyone turns to face the officer.

“Hey, guys,” Carlos responds, his eyes catching TK’s green ones.

“Hi, babe,” TK gets to his feet and walks around the dogs (who both look at him when he gets up, eyes questioning and follow his movement) and to his boyfriend.

He wraps his arms around Carlos in a tight embrace, Carlos’s own arms holding TK tightly.

“Hi, baby.”

TK brushes a kiss to Carlos’s lips when they pull back. “Rest of your shift went okay?”

“Yeah,” Carlos nods. “All went fine.”

“Good. Come on.” TK takes Carlos’s hand and leads him to the couch.

Satisfied that TK isn’t going anywhere, Buttercup and the puppy continue playing together.

TK snuggles into Carlos’s side, an arm wrapped around his waist while Carlos has his arm wrapped around TK’s shoulder.

“She’s so much cuter in person,” Carlos says with awe. “She’s so small. I want to hold her.”

“She only lets TK carry her,” Marjan warns him. “She cries if anyone else tries to.”

Carlos shares a quick look with TK. TK silently telling him go for it.

Carlos shrugs and gets up, carefully and slowly approaching the puppy.

She watches him with a wary look as he gets closer, but she doesn’t flinch away or hide.

And she proves everyone wrong when she doesn’t cry as Carlos picks her up. He holds her in his arms and right away, she’s cuddling against his chest, content and happy. She closes her eyes when Carlos begins running his hand over her body.

“Oh, now I’m officially jealous,” Paul quips.

That draws a collective chuckle from everyone.

TK gets up, stands next to Carlos and places his hand on Carlos’s arm.

“It’s easy to feel safe with you, too, babe,” TK’s smile widens and there’s so much softness and love in his gaze as he watches Carlos with the puppy.

Carlos turns his head towards TK and plants a kiss to the firefighter’s temple.

The bell goes off moments later, echoing through the firehouse and making the puppy startle and shake against Carlos’s hold.

“Hey, hey, babygirl,” Carlos soothes, “it’s okay. I got you.”

Carlos continues running his hand over her fur as the crew start filing out. TK hesitates for a moment, looking at his team rushing down the steps and getting into their gear.

“I’ll stay,” Carlos says, reading TK’s mind.

“Okay, thank you,” TK nods.

Carlos closes the distance between them and plants a tender kiss against TK’s lips.

“Please be careful.”

“Promise.”

Carlos watches TK leave, catching up with the rest of the team and jumping into the firetruck. Once the truck is out of sight, the officer looks down to see that Buttercup had gotten up and walked over to him.

Making sure the puppy is supported against his chest, Carlos frees a hand and pats Buttercup’s head.

“Come on, buddy,” Carlos says, moving back to sit on the couch.

Buttercup follows and settles by Carlos’s feet.

*****

The call goes smoothly but it takes more time than expected. The team is out for a couple of hours, returning to the house tired and in need of showers all around.

TK watches as everyone makes a beeline towards the showers, but he makes his way to where he left Carlos instead. He wants to see Carlos before showering, and he knows the officer would want to see him too, to make sure he’s okay.

He’s about to call out for Carlos but stops the words short on his tongue when his eyes land on his boyfriend. A smile is immediately breaking on TK’s face, heart swelling with love at the sight. Carlos is lying back on the couch, similar to how TK was in the selfie, with the puppy asleep on his chest, in the officer’s protective hold. His eyes doesn’t miss how Buttercup is also asleep by Carlos’s feet.

TK fishes his phone out and takes more than a few pictures, setting one of them as his phone’s home screen.

He’s about to retreat to the showers when Carlos stirs a little. TK likes to think they sense each other’s presence, and Carlos most definitely agrees.

TK walks over to his boyfriend, dropping a soft kiss to his forehead. “Hey, babe.”

That gets Carlos to fully wake up, blinking his eyes quickly to get rid of the sleep as he looks up at TK.

“Hi, babe,” Carlos clears his throat. “Everything went okay?”

TK nods. “Took a while, but everything and everyone is fine. Got an hour left for shift.”

It’s Carlos’s turn to nod, and looks down at the still-sleeping puppy.

“You two are adorable,” TK chuckles. “I’m gonna hit the shower real quick and I’ll be right back.”

TK returns less than thirty minutes later in a fresh uniform and smelling like Carlos’s body wash. The officer smiles when he notices and lifts an arm for TK, which TK happily sits in front of and leans into Carlos’s side.

The puppy is still asleep, and not wanting to wake her up, TK settles for placing his hand on the side of Carlos’s chest, his hand rising and falling with Carlos’s even breaths.

“So, I was thinking,” TK stars, a speck of nervousness coating his voice, “would you be okay with taking her home until we find out if she has a chip tomorrow at the vet?” He pauses, studying Carlos. “And we can take it from there.”

Carlos gives TK a gentle smile, lighting up his brown irises. “Yeah, of course. Can’t imagine leaving her anywhere else. She feels safe with us.”

TK responds by kissing Carlos’s cheek.

Both their attentions are grabbed when the puppy wakes up and gives the cutest little yawn either of them have ever seen. She does like Carlos, but her eyes still dart around, and Carlos can feel her excitement when they land on TK.

Carlos chuckles.

“Hey, sweetheart, come here,” TK says, reaching out to carefully lift her off Carlos’s chest and holds her close to his own.

“You look good with a puppy,” Carlos’s eyes glitter with affection.

“You look good yourself,” TK replies with the same look in his green ones.

*****

“Well, that was a bust,” TK sighs, pushing the condo door open and walking in, Carlos right behind him.

“Yeah,” Carlos says, closing the door and setting the crate on the floor near the couch.

They were returning from their vet appointment, both to check on the puppy’s general health and to look for a chip as planned. The vet had told them that she was in good shape, a little undernourished, but with a good diet, she’ll be fine. However, no chip was to be found.

TK pushes out another sigh and drops onto the couch, running a hand over his face.

Carlos hovers near, still standing and slips his hands into his front jean pockets. “Maybe it’s best we give her to the local shelter? Maybe they can help find her owner.”

TK stays silent for a few moments before he’s shaking his head. “What if they can't find them? I can’t just hand her over and not know what’s going to happen.”

TK’s eyes are filled to the brim with sadness, a heavy pang echoing inside his chest.

“Yeah,” Carlos speaks a moment later, joining TK on the couch. “Neither can I.”

TK knew that there was a possibility of finding her owner, and he knew that returning her would be difficult. But he also knew that it would be a good thing, that it meant that she has a family out there, that she’s known love and warmth. But with no chip, the odds of those things being a reality aren’t as high. It’s true not everyone immediately chips their dogs, and TK will do everything he can to find her owner if they exist. But another reality sets in, a truer reality, and it breaks TK’s heart a little. A reality which he speaks next.

“She’s lost,” TK whispers, his eyes drifting to the puppy sleeping in the crate.

He’s playing with the strings of his hoodie, the nervous energy surging through his veins evident in his hand movements. Carlos knows TK’s habits when he’s feeling worried or anxious, and it all revolves around his slightly shaking hands.

Carlos reaches out, taking TK’s hands into his own in an attempt to comfort TK and lessen the trembling.

“Hey,” Carlos says, his voice quiet and soft. “She found you, she found us.”

“She’s really attached to us, Carlos,” TK turns to face the larger man with pleading eyes. “Giving her to the shelter will scare her even more.”

Carlos nods. “Okay. We’ll go back and see what the options are.”

*****

They return a couple of hours later after visiting the shelter. Turns out, even if the dog isn’t microshipped, the owner (wherever they may be) still has a legal hold of the dog for a period of time. If the owner does not show up after that time is done, the dog becomes available for adoption. Carlos and TK were given three options:

Give her to the shelter and she’d be put up for adoptions after the legal hold is up.

Give her to the shelter and put their names down for first rights to adopt her if her owner doesn’t show up.

Be a shelter-at-home foster to keep her out of the shelter during the legal hold and they’d be able to adopt her if her owner doesn’t show up after the time is done.

In all three cases, they were encouraged, along with the shelter, to look for her owner.

After sharing one look with Carlos, TK said they’ll take her home.

And here they were, an hour later, watching her sleep in the fluffy bed they bought her, along with some toys (both of them couldn’t resist buying the cute toys they found) scattered around her. She had played a little with a small squeaky ball until she tired herself out.

TK puts his phone down after sending a text to his dad with updates just as Carlos places a steaming mug of tea in front of the firefighter.

TK smiles in appreciation and moves into Carlos’s space once the officer sits next to him. TK is lying on his side, with his back resting against Carlos’s chest and is enveloped in Carlos’s arms. Carlos soothingly runs his thumb over TK’s skin to help relax his boyfriend.

A movie is playing on TV but neither man is paying much attention to it.

TK breaks the silence. “What if no one shows up for her?”

Carlos drops his head a little to kiss the top of TK’s head. He has a feeling TK isn’t finished speaking, so he remains silent.

TK continues a moment later. “Also, what if someone does show up for her? I know we’ve only had her for a couple of days but I kind of can’t imagine not having her now. The attachment is…strong,” he expresses.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” comes Carlos’s voice from above.

“She only let me and you carry her…that’s gotta mean something, a sign. It feels like she chose us,” TK says, looking up at Carlos, so much vulnerability drawn on his face.

“It does,” Carlos agrees. “It’s gonna be hard if someone shows up for her, but that would also be a good thing, Ty. It would mean that she already has a home, maybe even siblings.”

Hearing Carlos voice the same thoughts that had been running through TK’s own mind just days ago helps make him feel a little lighter. Because they are true, it would be a good thing if her owner shows up and a smile flashes across TK’s face at the thought of the puppy having siblings, all of them running around and playing together. It’s a happy thought.

But there’s always the other possibility.

“And if no one shows?” TK’s voice is slow, as he treads lightly.

“Well, like you said, she chose us.”

TK moves at Carlos’s words, sitting up so he can properly face his boyfriend as he asks his next question. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” He can’t help the dash of hope that rings in his voice, a smile desperately tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“We become dog dads,” Carlos confirms with his own smile, leaning in and brushing a kiss to TK’s cheek.

The smile that overtakes TK’s face is blinding, his eyes lighting up and joy surges through his veins. He closes the distance between them again with pressing his lips against Carlos’s, and Carlos chuckles into the kiss before returning it.

And TK knows in his heart that no matter what happens over the next few days, the puppy will be well taken care of.

*****

“Ready?”

TK and Carlos find themselves back the shelter two weeks later. No one had reached out in regards to the puppy, so as soon as the legal hold up was done, they immediately jumped at starting the adoption process. It all went by smoothly, and after an interview and a home inspection, they were officially declared fit to adopt her.

TK couldn’t contain his excitement, and it made Carlos beam at his boyfriend’s eagerness and joy, which added to the officer’s own happiness, too.

“Ready,” TK replies to Carlos.

And then they’re both sign each of their forms in unison.

“Congratulations,” the lady behind the desk smiles at them. “And you little miss,” she turns to the puppy sitting in the crate on the desk. “You have a family of your own now.”

TK feels like jumping with joy, and he does. Carlos chuckles at how TK bounces a little on the heels of his feet and thanks the woman.

“Here,” Carlos says as he reaches into the tote bag sitting at his feet.

TK’s eyes soften when he sees Carlos holding out a small, red collar.

“I thought you should be the one to put it on her,” Carlos expresses, his expression as equally soft.

“Babe,” TK whispers.

Carlos turns to open the crate and gently carries the puppy and holds her against his chest. She’s facing TK with a smile of her own. She knows what just happened.

TK unclips the collar and pulls at it until it fits her neck, then clips is there and smiles at her.

He grabs his phone and opens the camera, pointing it at Carlos and their puppy.

Carlos holds her higher against his chest and looks at TK.

It’s probably TK’s favorite picture of all time.

*****

The ride home after a trip to the pet store is filled with positive energy as soft music blasts through the Camaro’s speakers, TK sitting in the passenger seat with the puppy on his lap. They had agreed on her name.

Once parked in front of the condo, TK carefully gets out of the car, balancing her in his arms as Carlos grabs some of the new things they bought for her, leaving the rest to be retrieved later, including bowls, food and two playpens: one for their home and one for the firehouse.

They had talked to Owen a few days earlier about bringing the puppy to the firehouse on the days they’re both working, and Owen had instantly agreed. He had also said that he’ll be bringing Buttercup by the firehouse more frequently, too, so the two dogs could spend time together.

The 126 group chat had erupted with excitement when TK texted them those details.

Carlos pushes the door open and walks in, lowering everything he’s carrying to the floor and steps to the side to let TK in, closing the door after him.

“Welcome home, Luna,” TK announces with a big smile, placing her on the floor.

She looks up at both men, her little tail wagging from side to side and earns herself chuckles from Carlos and TK as she starts running around the living room.

“She feels more at ease now,” Carlos says.

“Her energy level is definitely showing now,” TK adds with another chuckle.

Carlos moves closer to TK and wraps his arms around him from behind.

“She found a home in you,” Carlos kisses TK’s temple.

TK leans back into Carlos’s hold, covering the officer’s arms with his own hands.

“She found a home in us,” TK rejoices.

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jj-bxby · 4 years

Text

Where Do We Go? |Chapter One| JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary - Y/N is a Mainlander who has just moved to The Cut. When she meets her new neighbor, she just may have found the family she’s been searching for, and more.

gif credit @toesure

Warnings - None

Word count - 1.8k

A/N - This is the first fanfic I’ve written in about 3 years, so I genuinely hope you all like it! Gimme all of the three C’s: comments, concerns... cuestions. This is only the first part of the series, so if you would like to be tagged, just ask!

It’s never easy to start something over, especially when that ‘something’ happens to be your entire life.

If given the option, you would have left your home a long time ago, but there's only so much that a 17-year-old can do on her own. You smile drunkenly as you feel the summer sun shining on your skin, wind whipping your hair around your face wildly. The scent of the briny sea lingering in your nostrils as you pull into the road leading to your new home.

Outer Banks is supposed to be Paradise On Earth, and you can see why. After only being here for a few hours, you have already decided that you wouldn't really mind if you never leave this island again. A life on your own is what you’d always dreamed of, and you’re still a little dazed at the fact that it's finally your reality. After all of the sleepless nights consisting of fights, double shifts at the hotel near your house, and what seemed like an entirety of planning, you can finally go off on your own adventure.

You pull your car into the drive of the new home. Your new home. Cutting the ignition, you hop out of the beat-up Jeep and begin unloading your suitcases to bring inside. Off in the distance, you spot a group of kids that seemed to be around your age, all dancing to a beat blaring from one of their speakers. Beer cans were seized in each of their hands, and a joint was fixed between the lips of one boy. They all were giggling and chanting as a brunette boy tried to chug his drink, the booze dribbling out of the sides of his mouth and onto the grass. The happy sight made you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. You were such a straight-edge compared to these teenagers, never having had more than a sip of your mother’s wine while she wasn’t looking. Seeing them all with broad smiles plastered on their faces made you anxious, but yet something within you yearned to join them. To spin and howl and beam with all of them until the day turned into night, and the night turned into dawn. Maybe you would be able to fit in here after all, even if it takes some smoothing of your rough edges.

The group all looked in your direction after the dark-haired girl pointed you out, all of them pausing their twirling and jumping to acknowledge the new girl. They all give you a look of friendliness once your eyes meet, but the blonde with the joint flashed you a big smile and waved his entire arm at you, clearly wanting to be the center of attention. You felt your cheeks turn a shade crimson when you realized they were looking at you, but you give them a grin as you wave back before returning to pull all of your bags up to the front porch. You turned back to get one last look at the teenagers before you had to set foot in your house. The set seemed to have realized that the new neighbor may not want to hear their noisiness, as they had pulled their speaker and cooler a little ways away to the dock near a house, which you assumed had to belong to at least one of them.

Turning back to face your new front door, you took a deep breath to still your mind. This is it, this is your new beginning.

•

Okay, so unpacking is pretty damn boring as it turns out. And honestly, with weather this nice, how can I be expected to stay focused on a task that’s just so dull? I, at least, got my bags inside and some clothes placed in drawers, but it didn’t take long before my mind wandered and I step out into the backyard. This house may have seen some better days, but the view is to die for. Living life on a lake may not be ideal for everyone, but it is for me. Fishing, hammocks, and laying on a boat on a sunny day are all I could ever ask for. Even though I may not have a boat yet, I do have a hammock, and I’ll be damned if those aren’t good for some afternoon and I-have-a-lot-of-shit-to-do naps! I spot a couple of trees a few yards away from my new home to set up my new napping spot. After I finish tying off the support ropes into sturdy(ish) knots, I crawl into the netted bed, only needing steadying myself by flinging my arms around once (which, might I add, is quite good by my standards). Finally being able to rest my body after all of the moving and anxiety of the day feels so lovely. With the glow of the soft evening sun warming my skin in small beams through the tree leaves, I hardly notice how heavy my eyelids become, and definitely don’t mind when I drift off into sleep.

My dream is filled with the small party of teens from earlier today, but this time I’ve joined them. Now, I’m jumping and cackling with all of them while sneakily stealing the snapback off of one of the boy’s heads. I’m giggling as I toss my arm around the dark-haired girl and blonde boy, turning to give him a cheeky smile as he looks to me. Suddenly, his face is all I see.

“Hi… Uh, hey? You awake?”

I rush to stand up and immediately regret it. As I try to get up, I end up flailing like a fish and tumbling out of the hammock, falling onto my back and groaning. I look up to see where the voice came from, and find blue eyes piercing into my own.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you like that. Here, can I help you up?” The boy asks, extending his hand to me. I gladly accept the help and get to my feet. I see that it’s now dark out and the stars are lighting up the night sky. “Again, I’m really sorry I scared you. But maybe be more careful next time getting outta that hammock, yeah? You kinda looked like a fish flopping out of water,” the boy chuckled, running his hand through his hair. Is it me being tired or… is he being extremely cute?

I gave him a little smile as my cheeks flush with color. “It’s alright, I’m not broken or anything. But, I do think that the least you can do for so rudely interrupting my nap is telling me your name.”

“Oh right,” the blonde chuckles, ”I’m JJ. My friends and I are actually throwing a kegger tonight at the boneyard, and I was trying to be neighborly and invite you. You know, make friends and all? You seem about our age, sixteen or seventeen, right? Life here is much easier with friends, you know. Oh!” JJ exclaims, “Do you know where the boneyard is?” He questions. When I shake my head at him, he grins at me mischievously. “Shame. Guess I’ll have to drag you there so you can join in. But first, I’ve gotta get your name.”

“Y/N,” I respond while smoothing down my hair and picking a few pieces of dirt from it. “But ‘The Boneyard’ sounds pretty ominous, what kinda place are you taking me to? And I don’t even know you or your friends, really. So how do I know you’re not just kidnapping me?”

JJ reaches over and pulls a small twig out of my hair. “Well, Y/N, I don’t know you. How do I know you aren’t some kind of axe murderer? Besides, do I look like I need to kidnap a girl just to get her attention?” JJ asks me with a smug look on his face.

“Touché, JJ. I guess I can come to this ‘boneyard’ with you.” JJ holds his hand out to me for a high-five, grinning wildly. I roll my eyes and slap his hand weakly.

“Wow, I literally just felt myself become depressed from that high-five.”

I give him a little shove on the shoulder and start to walk ahead of him. “So, ya gonna take me to this “Boneyard,” or what?”

“Yes, however, you are going the exact wrong way.”

“Oh.”

“C’mon, doll.” JJ takes my small hand into his and starts off towards the Boneyard. From being a few steps behind him, I can just make out the outlines of JJ’s shoulder blades peeking through the sides of his cut-off tee. The heat rose to my cheeks, realizing that this incredibly attractive boy is now taking me to meet his – likely – equally attractive friends, and he’s a major flirt. How in the hell am I going to keep up with this man? Figuratively and literally, his legs are way longer than mine, and I’m practically stumbling over my own two feet just trying to keep the same pace as him.

“So, Y/N, you’re from the mainland, yeah?” The boy questioned, looking over his shoulder to check on me as I nodded to him. “What in the hell made you move to The Cut?”

“Um, well, that’s a bit of a long story as to why I moved. But, what’s The Cut? Is that what you call it here?”

“Well, The Cut is the south side of the island, its where all of us who’re in the working class live, The Pogues, if you will. Figure Eight is where all of the Kooks come from. Y’know, the ones who sit around and play with Daddy’s Money all goddamned day,” JJ spat out the last part. “I’m just wondering why you would choose to move to our side, especially when you had a choice in the matter. I grew up in The Cut — All of the pogues did. Why not go full Kook?”

“Well, back on the mainland I was from a working-class family. I dunno, I wouldn’t have fit in with all of the mansions, and country clubs, and board shorts, I don’t think.” I shrugged my shoulders at him, “I wasn’t made for that kind of life.”

JJ nodded understandingly before beaming at me, “Well, I think you’re going to fit in quite well here, Y/N.” The boy stopped walking and I came to stand at his side, our shoulders brushing against each other. “Welcome to the Boneyard, babe.”

It truly was a sight to see. Teens were sat on fallen driftwood, all huddled around different bonfires, red solo cups in hands. Odd mixes of sunburned kids, girls dressed in oversized tees and jean shorts, preppy-clothed boys all mingled together, seeming to put aside any inequalities just for the night. People drifted from group to group, some gathered at the keg, and some simply standing and chatting as they drank. I grinned at the view ahead, knowing this was only the first of many parties to attend. I look to my side to see JJ’s blue eyes focused on me, and I tried to swallow down the fluttering feeling in my chest.

“Let’s go warm up, yeah?”

•

@midnightmagicmusings

#jj x reader #outer banks #obx #jj obx imagine #jj imagine #jj maybank obx #jj maybank #jj x y/n #obx imagine #obx fic #obx x reader #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine

228 notes · View notes

i-am-totally-a-human-being · 3 years

Text

Someone who wanted to stay anonymous dm’d me with this request:

It was such an interesting request I had to do it! I’ve never written Angie before so this was a journey, but I think/hope I did ok!

Anon requested the title, so here it is!

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Midnight Ceremony

Pairing: Angie Yonaga x reader

No pronouns used for reader, reader and Angie are dating

Summary: You help your girlfriend Angie perform her sacred ceremony, but she surprises you

Trigger warnings: religious ceremony, mentions of fasting, mentions of blood sacrifice, Angie has a cigar(I dunno if that’s triggering?)

Ok I think I’m good now and got all that stuff out of the way, let me know if I need to add any other trigger warnings or if I need to add anything to make it better (if you’re the one who requested)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat on the beach in the dead of night with your girlfriend, Angie, as she muttered chants in a language you couldn’t really understand. She had taught you some words here and there, but she never quite seemed interested in helping you learn the whole language.

“A sacred language for sacred tongues” she would tell you.

As she chanted she bundled sticks and grass and a few natural herbs you had collected for her into homemade parchment paper you also assisted in making.

It was the time of year where, every six months, your girlfriend would perform her ritual to commune with the God she worshipped, Atua. Atua and the religion behind it was the reason you and Angie had met, so you were gladly just as devoted to it as she was.

So here you were, on the beach as you watched her bundle the sticks and herbs into the parchment to create a massive cigar. Once she was finished tying it off so it wouldn’t fall apart, she nodded and gave you the matches.

Your role in the ceremony was to help gather supplies, light the cigar for her, and “be a witness to the divine calling” as she stated. A small fire sat between you two to give you some light to see what you were doing, which illuminated her ceremonial outfit perfectly. Her arms, hair, and neck decorated in sacred jewelry, the veil helping hold her long, white hair up in the bundle of braids it was in, the corset wrapped tightly around her which you had helped secure, and the large pants with a train all looked gorgeous on her. She wore this at every ceremony, and had it specially tailored to her fitting with only holy fabric Atua itself had blessed through other ceremonies. (If you can’t imagine the outfit well, it’s her 10th anniversary art outfit!)

You crawled closer to her and lit a match, moving it carefully through the night air to make sure it didn’t get extinguished too early. Holding it to the tip of the cigar, you made sure it was lit before pulling that match away and throwing it into the fire beside you. She stood, the cigar blowing out puffs of smoke in different shapes as she spoke the same words she did every six months.

“Atua and the spirits who obey you,” she started, “may we seek your guidance and instructions on what you require of us for the next six moon cycles. As we reach the high point of our ritual, we prepare myself for you to take, as a divine sacrifice to receive your wisdom, of great Atua.” As she spoke she bent over and placed the lit end of her cigar to the end of some homemade fireworks you and her and made a few days in advance. They lit up and shot into the sky, bursting in arrays of colors often affiliated with Atua and its people. The popping of the beautiful fireworks almost made you miss the last part of her chant, which she normally didn’t say.

Almost.

You froze as she referred to herself as the sacrifice. There was usually a sacrifice affiliated with these ceremonies, but never live blood ones! It usually meant fasting for a day before or after, and no harm ever came to anything or anyone. Was she expecting you to do something to her?! To possibly kill her in the name of Atua? You… you were devoted to this religion and to Atua, yes, but not enough to kill your girlfriend! You loved her! You couldn’t just… sacrifice her!

As the ritual continued your worries grew bigger, as her comments of sacrificing herself grew more and more common. Was this a test? Had Atua told her to do this?! To test your devotion?! If that was the case, you refused to fully devote to this! You would refuse to kill Angie!

She grabbed a stick that she had sharpened into a defined point and drew a circle around herself before tossing you the stick and extending her arms outwards. Was this her telling you to stab her?! Because the answer was still no!

“Y/N now offers themselves up as well,” she spoke with the cigar still in her mouth, “as they hold such an important role in this ceremony as well. They will now,” Angie giggled, looking down at you, “realize that I was simply joking, Nyah-haha!” You froze at her words, still trying to take it in. Joking… she was… joking…?

“A-Angie,” you laughed, throwing the stick down and standing up with her, “you had me really scared! Don’t do that!”

“So I had you fooled, I see! Excellent! Atua is pleased with my trickery!” She was laughing hard, the smoke expelling from the cigar faster now due to her short and fast breaths.

“Angie,” you scowled, scooping her up into your arms, “this is what you get for scaring me!!” Using all of the force in you, you launch her towards the sky, the cigar creating a long trail of smoke as she flew. As the cigar finally extinguished, Angie seemingly vanished with it, a twinkle of a star showing where she disappeared. You laughed, hearing the disembodied giggle of hers as well, letting you know she was alright.

This happened often, one of you throwing the other into the sky only for them to vanish with a small twinkle in the night. She was ok, and she’d return shortly to nap and cuddle with you in your shared bedroom.

As much as she had spooked you, you did truly love her and trust her, therefore you also trusted Atua.

You cleaned up the remains of the ceremony and returned home, running a bath for her to get into when she eventually returned.

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

I hope you enjoyed, anon! I really did have fun writing this!

If Anonymous asks aren’t working, if you want to request something but stay anonymous you can dm me with the request. I will not judge the request at all and will make sure to cut out your name as I did for this. If you don’t care, you can simply request it with the ask feature. Dm-ing me with a request might also be a good choice if it’s a request that may need more explanation. Anon and I were able to discuss exactly what they wanted, so if you want that it’s probably best to dm me! Thank you all very much for reading!

Thank you for coming to my TED talk,

-🐝

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #x reader #danganronpa killing harmony #drv3 killing harmony #killing harmony #angie yonaga #angie yonaga x reader #angie x reader #atua #oneshot #danganronpa oneshot #oneshots

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years

Text

the walls have ears | Taehyung

→ summary: in hindsight, taehyung probably shouldn’t have told the paintings about his debilitating crush on you after he had (unknowingly) drunk some magically spiked pumpkin juice. after all, paintings don’t really have all that much going on, except getting excited over the occasional gossip or two. and well... news always travels fast when there’s magic involved.

{based on a prompt by @/alloftheprompts: “Character A tells a painting about their crush on Character B. The portrait spills their secret.”}

→ genre: hogwarts!au, fluff, humor → words: 5.6K → a/n: this is for the lovely @merriblazi who donated a couple ko-fis to fund my grocery bills lmao thank you so much!! also, i’m still accepting ko-fi comms until the end of august, so if you’d like something like this as well, feel free to drop a few ko-fis down my drain!! i’d love to write you all something!! (new banner was made by @jincherie ty girl ily)

The paintings at Hogwarts are all in high spirits today.

Taehyung notices this when he exits the Gryffindor common room, immediately being greeted by the Fat Lady’s cackles of excitement. He jumps up in surprise at her ear-splitting squeals, nearly knocking over a poor first-year student behind him. He shouts out an apology at the kid, but she has already scuttled off, spooked by the loud portrait. Honestly, Taehyung isn’t any better himself, turning back around to stare wide-eyed as the Fat Lady continues to point and giggle at him with her mouth stretched into a smirk.

Taehyung hazards a greeting. “Um, good morning?”

“Good morning indeed,” she singsongs, procuring a fan out of the many folds of her dress (from where exactly she had it stored, he tries not to think too deeply about). “Mister Kim, I’m sure you had quite an interesting evening the day before, did you not?”

Taehyung freezes immediately, his blood running cold at her words. Being a known prankster and rapscallion, Taehyung has grown to learn the importance of running at the first sign of trouble, despite how cowardly that might seem for a Gryffindor. The best way to continue having the pleasure of wreaking havoc is to choose your battles wisely, which is just a nice way of saying that he needs to scram before the authorities can catch him. He had learned all of this from the best, seeing as how his best friend happens to be a Slytherin.

He tries to think of what he had done the other night, but he comes up blank. He remembers being busy the entire afternoon trying to ask you on a date for the fourteenth time this month, only to no avail (as always). While others had already been deterred by intimidation alone, Taehyung remains hopeful that he will get the guts to talk to you eventually. After all, his mommy says he’s a handsome and charming boy who can sweep any girl off their feet, and his mommy has never lied to him before.

At least, that’s what he’s been telling himself these past few years of silently pining over you, but he digresses.

“I… I had an interesting evening?” Taehyung repeats quizzically, becoming more bewildered by the second. Due to the Fat Lady’s commotion, it seems to have caused a stir among the rest of the paintings, all of the nearby portraits peering over their frames to catch a good look at him. Taehyung can even see some of the more lethargic portraits waking up long enough to direct attentive gazes at him.

“Why of course!” The Fat Lady positively screams, clasping her hands together with a loud clap. “The castle is abuzz with excitement over your daring confession last night! Why, I could hardly contain my excitement for when you would awaken.” She flicks away her fan over her shoulder, accidentally hitting her neighboring portrait in the face. She scarely blinks at her neighbor’s barks of irritation.

Oh, jeez. It’s the crotchety portrait that everyone disliked. This isn’t good; no one could ever get the old fart to shut up once you got him going, and Taehyung knows better than anyone else how easy it is to get a rise out of him. After all, it was his favorite pastime.

“Watch where you flap those arms of yours, woman!” He shouts, bulbous features turning purple in mere seconds. The Scholar, or as Taehyung likes to call the Squalor, takes one of his many books from his desk, ready to hurl back at her.

Before he can even think of pulling back his shoulder, a stampede of finely dressed ladies comes rushing in out of nowhere, quickly subduing them by sheer number alone. There is a loud squabble as the ladies all corner him like a murder of multi-colored crows. At a closer glance, Taehyung recognizes them from one of the large paintings near the entrance to the Great Hall.

That was floors away. How had they rushed over so quickly? And for what reason?

“Oh hush, you simpering nerd!” One of the ladies snaps, grabbing the Fat Lady’s fallen fan and slapping the man in the face once more. The scholar sputters, at a loss for words for once in his life. Taehyung thanks the ladies internally, having always wanted to disfigure the bastard’s face ever since he called his yellow sunglasses unfashionable. What the hell did someone who died during the plague know anything about fashion?

“We came as soon as we heard, Lady Fat! Now, where is the boy that everyone’s been gossiping about – oh, my word!” Taehyung assumes it is the leader of the pack who gasps in surprise, her well-manicured finger outstretched as she waggles it at him. He can tell she’s the leader by the ostentatious crown on her head, complete with glittering jewels that he could scarcely tell the names of.

The Fat Lady moves to the side, allowing the women to enter her space until almost the entirety of her canvas was filled with nothing but powdered wigs and poofy skirts. Taehyung can hardly see her crown of vines with how many people were surrounding her.

Her voice sounds muffled when she replies, “For the hundredth time, my name is the Fat Lady, not Lady Fat. And yes Martha, it is him! His name is Taehyung, the one I’m certain who had spoken to Raphael the other night.”

Wait. Taehyung’s mouth drops, taken aback. This is certainly news to him! When had he spoken to Raphael? Who the hell was Raphael, even? Why did everyone seem to know more about his nightly activities than he did?

He doesn’t get to ask, however, as the ladies immediately begin to bombard him with a barrage of comments ranging from excitement to disappointment, no holds barred.

“Oh, it’s the cute Gryffindor boy with the long eyelashes! They would make a lovely couple indeed! I wonder if Raphael has already passed the message to her–”

“He’s the one? Surely not! I was hoping it was the cat-eyed boy with black hair instead. Wouldn’t he be a better match for her?”

“You must be crazy, Marie! This boy is clearly meant for her. My mother was a seer, and I can tell from a mile away that those two are meant to be soulmates–”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Taehyung cries out, anxious from all the chatter coming from all directions at once. He can feel the panic bubbling up, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He doesn’t even know where to start with all this! “Can everyone shut up for a second!”

Miraculously, all the portraits clam up at his request, still gazing upon him like he holds all the secrets to the world. Which, much to everyone’s disappointment, he does not.

The sudden disquiet unnerves him slightly, causing him to stutter in his speech. He swallows thickly, voice meek. “I-I… I’m a bit confused about all this. Can someone explain what everyone’s talking about? I just wanted to head down and get some breakfast.”

It feels like a hundred painted faces are staring back at him, and when Taehyung casts a furtive glance behind him, he sees that even the paintings from two staircases up are watching with rapt attention. Why was everyone so interested in him, all of a sudden? Not even his infamous dungbomb toilet prank got him this much notoriety. When he turns back to face the ladies, they all seem to be just as shocked as he is.

Lady Martha steps forward until she is almost taking up the entirety of the canvas, squinting at him dubiously. Her previously excited demeanor has soured greatly at his words. She tilts her head towards him, unimpressed. “Well? Are you not the boy with the crush on Lady Y/N? Have we sprinted across the entire castle just to find that the culprit of last night’s latest gossip had all been just another prank?”

“N-no, I – Wait. Did you just say–” Taehyung stops in the middle of his sentence to gape back at her, his ears feeling hot as his blood quickly races up to his face. “Did you just say ‘the boy with the crush on Y/N?’” He hisses the last part in a strangled whisper, snapping his head side to side to make sure no one else had heard. He is relieved to find that the only other people nearby do not seem to have heard their exchange, but he still waves his hands frantically to get all the portraits to lower their volume.

She raises her eyebrow at him, hip cocked to the side. “Yes? Had I misspoken? Had Raphael been lying to all of us once again?” She scoffs in exasperation, though it does not seem to be aimed at him. The rest of the ladies seem annoyed at this Raphael as well. “That’s just like him, too! We shouldn’t have trusted him again. That angel never did know how to shut his trap.”

The ladies make muted harrumphs of discontent, noses upturned in the air. Taehyung watches as a few of them begin to make their way back to their own canvas, but he needs to ask them one last thing before they leave. While he doesn’t remember ever speaking to a painting named Raphael, he still does not know how he had found about his crush on you in the first place.

He doesn’t know what he would do if you were to ever find out, even if it was just a rumor for now. This is not how he imagined he would finally tell you about his feelings; everything feels like a nightmare. He can already feel the apples of his tanned cheeks beginning to burn in embarrassment.

“Hold on, did you say an angel named Raphael said all of that stuff?” Taehyung asks hesitantly, sweat building up on the back of his neck. He can vaguely remember a fresco of some angels near the kitchens, but he isn’t quite sure. He never goes there unless he wants to snag some treats from the house elves, but he has started relying on Seokjin to do the food hauls for him these days. Never mind the fact that he had already gotten caught in the act thrice by you – ever the attentive prefect.

Oh, how he hated how much he loved you, despite the stick up your ass. That being said, no one was supposed to even know that he liked you, much less the entire painting population of Hogwarts. Not even Jimin knew, and that was saying something! How did this Raphael fellow find out when he had kept this secret deep inside his heart since the first day he had laid his eyes on you? How had he figured him out, unless Taehyung had been the one to tell him–

“Yes, the archangel Raphael near the kitchens.” Lady Martha nods, her sneer disfiguring her delicate features. “He said that a drunken boy with long lashes and dark brown hair had confessed his undying feelings for the rigid Lady Y/N the other night. Oh, how excited we were to hear the news!” Martha holds a hand to her chest, sighing dramatically. The remaining ladies chorus their sighs as well, one of them even fainting from grief.

The Fat Lady cranes her neck upwards, trying her best to speak above the fallen, wailing ladies. “Yes, quite. What a shame! When I heard from Lady Martha, who had heard from Lord Michael, who had heard from Sire Nicholas, who had heard from Professor Bang–”

“Wait, Professor Bang?” Taehyung mutters in disbelief, scarcely heard over the racket.

“–who had heard from Archangel Raphael that a boy with long eyelashes had been going on and on about his crush on a female prefect, I just knew it had to be you! Then, the Ladies of Commère discovered that the prefect was Miss Y/N, well… It was like a dream come true! We had all been hoping for her to find her prince sooner or later.”

“Her prince? What for?” Taehyung is kind of afraid to dive deeper into this mess, though he is too curious to let it slide. It isn’t like you’re short on suitors, despite how intimidating and uptight you are. It is part of the reason why he’s too shy to approach you in the first place, with how large his competition pool is.

“Well… She had been complaining to me during her nightly rounds about how lonely she has been feeling, ever since her best friend had started dating that oaf with a quaffle for a brain,” Lady Martha tuts, shaking her head pityingly.

Taehyung is familiar with that “oaf,” otherwise known as the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He admits that Jungkook isn’t the brightest boy, but he is a wickedly good player. Plus, Taehyung thinks he’s funny, especially after that incident when he had tried to snort pumpkin juice on a dare and consequently sprayed the entire wall with a myriad of fluids. (You had deducted points out of your own house for that, much to everyone else’s chagrin.)

Lady Martha continues, “She may seem like an independent woman, but I suppose all of us tend to get lonely during the night. And all the paintings love a good romance every once in a while, so we couldn’t help ourselves from jumping the gun a bit…”

Taehyung feels the dread begin to pile up like bricks in the pit of his stomach, reminding him of the time when he had eaten too much cauldron cakes in one go. He needs to go see Raphael as soon as possible and get to the bottom of this. He doesn’t remember speaking to him at all, which is what makes Taehyung the antsiest. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t quite remember what he did after dinner last night.

Somehow between now and then, he had managed to go to bed despite not knowing how or when. Taehyung had woken up this morning with a minor throbbing in the back of his head, but it was nothing to write home about.

At least that was what he thought. He was starting to second guess everything now.

He bows to the paintings, belatedly feeling a little odd for showing respect to inanimate objects. Regardless, the ladies appear to be delighted by his involuntary action, all of them cooing at his manners and wishing him a good breakfast as he scampers off towards the Great Hall.

When he arrives, the tables are still largely empty with how early he had risen, a rare occurrence in Taehyung’s everyday life. He doesn’t think he’s ever arrived to breakfast this early, but he blames the small headache from earlier that prematurely roused him from his slumber. Strange, he thinks as he trudges to his usual place, waiting for the rest of his friends and housemates to arrive. Everything about today has been nothing but a fever dream come to life.

As he spoons a large portion of porridge and fried sausages onto his plate (still piping hot and crisp, which is another weird and new prospect to Taehyung since the food was always a bit mushy by the time he turns up for breakfast), he replays the conversation with the Ladies of Commère.

Other than Raphael, there appear to be no other leads as to who might have found out about his secret admiration for you. The Fat Lady describes a boy with long lashes and brown hair to be the one who had conversed with him, which definitely seems to indicate it was Taehyung himself who had snitched.

An utterly preposterous thought. There is no way that he would ever admit that to some random passerby, certainly not while sober.

Taehyung pauses, spoon midway towards his open mouth. Bits of porridge drip over his lap as the sudden terrorizing thought flits through his mind. Had he been sober last night?

The ladies said the boy had been drunk when he had confessed. Taehyung didn’t drink alcohol, averse to the bitter taste. So how could he have..?

Taehyung rubs his temples frantically, his heart beating out of his chest as he tries again to remember what he had done right after dinner the previous evening. No matter how hard he racked his brain for information, he comes up blank every time.

Even if he had been drunk, do people really lose all their memories from just a sip or two? The only way he could have gotten drunk is if he had consumed it unknowingly, meaning someone must have spiked his food the other night. But who could have done such a thing?

The loud thud of a body barrelling right into the table forces Taehyung out of his reverie, nearly dislodging his head off his neck in the process. He yelps in surprise, before glaring at the new smiley intruder beside him.

The Slytherin grins cherubically, having the audacity to wink salaciously at him. “Good morning, Taehyungie! Surprised to see you up so early,” Jimin says, seating himself on the Gryffindor bench like he belongs there. With how often he visits his table, it’s easy for people to mistake him as his housemate. Even you and the rest of the prefects have stopped trying to get him to leave after their fifth year.

Taehyung groans. “It’s been a rough morning.”

“I can tell. You aren’t even eating any of the bacon,” Jimin whistles in surprise, casually heaping his own (stolen) plate. He gives Taehyung a proper once-over. “You feeling alright? You look kind of pale.”

“It’s…” Taehyung wavers, not sure what to reveal. He still doesn’t feel comfortable telling Jimin about his crush, but he thinks that if the entire population of Hogwarts might soon find out anyway, then his best friend might as well find out from the source himself. But first…

“Did you spike my dinner last night?”

“What?” Jimin laughs, but stops when he notices Taehyung’s serious expression. “Oh. You’re serious. Did you eat something funny yesterday?”

“I don’t remember eating anything weird except for the lamb chops and chicken and mashed potatoes and…” Taehyung trails off, realizing how much he eats during a meal. He looks down at his already half-devoured plate of what was once ten whole sausages before sighing dejectedly.

“It could have been anything, huh?” Jimin hums, rubbing his chin. “That’s weird though, because I don’t think I ate anything weird yesterday, and we ate pretty much the same stuff.”

“That’s the thing! I only realized my food might have been spiked this morning,” Taehyung grumbles. He pauses for a second, steeling himself before he spills his guts all over the shiny mahogany dining table. He breathes deeply, causing Jimin to watch him curiously from his right. Well, it’s now or never.

“What made you realize?” Jimin asks.

“You see, funny story…” Taehyung says, not at all amused by the tale he was about to tell. “This morning, I was assaulted by the Fat Lady and the Ladies of Commère. You know, the hoity-toity ladies near the entrance of the Great Hall? Anyway, they said something that made me rethink my entire existence and that maybe my memories aren’t as reliable as I thought.”

“What the hell are you even saying?” Jimin huffs, wagging his fork in his face. “Stop beating around the bush and say what you wanna say! What does this have to do with spiked food?”

“Basically… The ladies said I told one of the portraits about my crush on this certain someone, but the thing is, I would NEVER tell anyone about my crush on that someone, so the only way they could have known about my crush on that someone is if I had told them, but the thing is, I–”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jimin interrupts Taehyung’s rambling, barely trying to suppress his giggles as he appraises his panicking friend. “You told a portrait about your crush on Y/N? When did this happen?”

Taehyung makes a startled sound, practically screeching in horror at Jimin’s nonchalant declaration. He had said it in a way like it was a simple truth, like how the sky is blue and how feet are sexy.

“You knew?!”

“Dude, everyone knows.” Jimin hums, nodding his head sagely. He snags one of the sausages off of Taehyung’s plate, even though he could have gotten a fresh one from the many other platters instead. He chews as he says, “Well admittedly, I’ve always known. Everyone else only just found out this morning as we entered the Great Hall. The hoity-toity ladies at the entrance were telling anyone who’d listen.”

“The ladies were–?” Taehyung stammers, mouth moving too quickly for his brain to catch up. “But I told them it wasn’t me!”

“Well, too late for that now,” Jimin shrugs, taking another one of Taehyung’s sausages. At this point, he was only doing it to make Taehyung’s day worse. “Apparently, Raphael the Archangel swore that it was you who had confessed about your crush on Y/N, and angels don’t just go around swearing, you know? Not that I know anything about Muggle religion, but also–”

“Oh Merlin, I think I’m going to be sick,” Taehyung says, slamming his head into his plate with the remaining three sausages. Jimin whines, lamenting the fate of his fallen riches.

“My sausages!”

“My love life!” Taehyung cries out, lifting his head and letting the greasy remains of his breakfast drip down his forehead.

Jimin is the first to recover from their respective meltdowns, using a finger to wipe some of the oil from his friend’s face and licking it with relish. “Damn, I love sausages. So, as I was saying… Why did you go and tell that portrait about your crush? Is that why you think you got spiked last night?”

Taehyung chokes out a sob, signaling his agreement.

“Oh shit, what if someone slipped Veritaserum in your pumpkin juice? But who?” Jimin wonders aloud, but it’s hard to narrow it down to just about anyone. Taehyung is pretty likable even amongst the most prickly students, so it will be difficult to pinpoint anyone who might have some personal vendetta against him. Then again, there are a couple of pranksters who come to mind…

“It doesn’t even matter who did it at this point. Y/N is going to come through those doors any moment and she’s just gonna know that I’m a fucking loser who spills his deepest infatuations to some random painting that I don’t even remember speaking to!”

“That is pretty lame,” Jimin says, not the least bit sympathetic. In his honest opinion, he feels like he should be thankful to whoever spiked his friend’s drink last night. Pining never did look good on Taehyung, despite all his natural handsomeness. If he had to catch him staring at you with that lovestruck look again, Jimin might as well have snitched sooner or later.

“Do you think I have time to go stop them from announcing to the world that I’m a loser with a huge boner for Y/N?” Taehyung is already rising to his feet, wiping the remaining grease from his skin as best as he can. He only smears it around some more, giving himself a blinding sheen. Somehow, he makes it work.

Jimin looks to his watch. “She usually comes in around five minutes before 8 AM, so maybe you’ll have some time before–”

He has spoken too soon. Lo and behold, you enter the hall with loud, purposeful strides, the entirety of your neck to your forehead flushed an endearing shade of red. You look absolutely mortified. Taehyung can say that he’s feeling the same, if not worse.

You pass by Taehyung in a blur, your gaze twitching towards him for a slight second before you are back to walking straight ahead with your head bowed slightly. Your best friend and Jungkook enter the hall soon after, both of whom were giggling raucously in your wake. The three of you slide into your usual seats a few spaces away from him, your eyes trained so fiercely onto your eggs that Taehyung is afraid that they might burst into flames.

Jimin looks from you to Taehyung, a smirk on his face. “You think she heard?”

The day continues onwards, filled with lots of staring and whispering. Taehyung can’t go from class to class without at least one person slapping him on the back in solidarity or others glaring at him out of contempt and jealousy. Either way, Taehyung isn’t sure whether he likes this type of attention or not.

Being hooted and cursed at for pulling off a fantastic joke? That, he could live with. Being the center of an ongoing cheesy romantic drama? This type of situation is a new world entirely.

The entire day is a whirlwind as he goes from class to class, not even getting to sneak off once to go and search for the ever elusive Raphael. Every time he tries to even look the other direction, his professors seem to be a step ahead of him, snapping at him to stay focused. Judging by the knowing smirks on their lips, they must have heard about the news as well, except they must be under the impression that he was trying to get away and search for you.

Oh, how wrong they are. He doesn’t even know what he would say if he saw you right now.

Luckily (or unluckily) for him, he doesn’t see you that often for the remainder of the day, except for one occasion when he passes you on the way to Potions. You aren’t with your best friend for once, but your eyes are still trained to the floor like they were this morning. Your usual pristine posture is gone, replaced by this timid girl who jumps up in surprise at the slightest bit of chatter. You don’t even scold a second-year for loosening his tie, and that honestly worried Taehyung more than anything else.

Were you embarrassed by him? He isn’t all that surprised that his affections were left unreciprocated – he’s long since accepted that his feelings will always remain one-sided. After all, with how often you like to reprimand him, you must only think of him as some loser seeking attention. In fact, he only ever plans his pranks so that you might be the one to catch him, like some misbehaving child who longs for the love of his absent parents.

Not that he thinks you’re like a mom to him, but then again… You’d be a great mom, but only if he gets to be the dad.

Wow. That went waaaay out of bounds than he was originally going for, but he digresses.

Still, he is a little hurt being ignored by you. Could he at least hope for a proper rejection? Just so he doesn’t have to keep having to speculating his whole life and wondering about what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Oh, how he loathes what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. They are worse than losing an entire femur, in his opinion (and yes, he has lost a femur once. Luckily, they found it in the women’s bathroom, for some reason.)

He can’t blame you entirely though, since it must be hard on your part as well. He doesn’t ever remember seeing you this flustered in, well… Ever.

The afternoon winds down and classes end as quickly as they come. Dinner arrives once more, and Taehyung has more presence of mind to check what he eats before they even touch his lips. For safety reasons, he feeds his portions to Jimin first, just so if he gets spiked with truth serum again, at least the two of them could be idiots together.

He allows Jimin to lead most of the conversation, still not really feeling like everything’s fine despite his friend’s best attempts at lightening the mood. He did just get his heartbroken for the first time, after all. He’s surprised he hasn’t started bawling his eyes out in front of the entire school yet.

Just a few more minutes and I can cry all I want in the safety of my bedroom, Taehyung thinks to himself, feeling even shittier about how excited he is to spend the entire evening soaking his pillow with tears. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

He is in the process of feeding a spoonful of peas into Jimin’s open mouth when he feels a soft tap on his shoulder, breaking him from his trance. He is in the process of telling the person that he’s not in the mood, but the words die in his throat the moment he turns and discovers the identity of the sudden visitor.

It’s you.

It’s you, with your hands wringing the edges of your sweater and the most endearingly rosy tint on your soft cheeks. He feels his heart start pounding automatically, just as it always has whenever he’s near you. He thinks the whole school has stopped talking with how silent the Great Hall has become, everyone itching to try and listen to your exchange.

Perhaps you had anticipated this type of scenario and didn’t want anyone to overhear, which is why you have already prepared a note beforehand, inked with your signature neat scrawl. You slip the small piece of parchment into his palm, folding his fingers over it gently. You bow your head awkwardly, reminding Taehyung of his similar gesture from earlier. You scurry away back to your seat, hands cupping your cheeks to cool yourself down.

Taehyung can’t see himself right now, but he thinks he might be even redder than you are, if that is even possible. Jimin, like the nosey bastard that he is, rips the note out of his hand and reads it before he can even process the last five minutes, guffawing loudly at what he finds.

“Guess you got a date later at the Astronomy Tower,” he says, shaking Taehyung’s hand in mock congratulations.

Well, at least he’ll have the stars to look at when he inevitably gets his heart crushed for real this time.

He doesn’t get his heart crushed. At least, not immediately. In fact, he thinks he might be on cloud nine right now as he sees you waiting for him, a small smile on your lips.

“Taehyung, I… really didn’t expect this from you. At all.” You start speaking the moment you hear him reach the top of the stairs, still slightly out of breath from the climb up. He rushes over to you immediately, letting the breeze cool his sweaty face.

“You didn’t… expect it?”

“Well, I mean! You’re always so…” You trail off, your mouth doing this weird thing where you look like you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“A fucking little bastard?” Taehyung laughs when he sees you start to backtrack, stammering all the while.

“N-no! Well, you sorta are… But in the cutest way… possible?” You say the last part like a question, almost helplessly. You wave your hands wildly, adorable despite being frustrated. “I mean! It’s like! I scold you, but it’s my job, you know? But it’s not because I want to do it? Do you get what I mean? Ugh, I’m so awkward I hate this!”

“You think… I’m cute?” Taehyung lets himself smile a little, and it seems to make you even more flustered.

“Have you not seen yourself? Of course you are! I can’t believe that you even have a crush on me–” You stop yourself, slapping a hand to your mouth in horror. “I-I… I know it’s just a rumor and everything, and I don’t want to assume there’s any basis because oh my Merlin I’m never the type to listen to gossip and I don’t want you to think that I’m sort of–”

“What if it isn’t a rumor, though?” Taehyung has never felt this emboldened in his life, toeing the line of danger so closely that he can feel the electricity rush through his veins.

On the otherhand, you look completely baffled, as if the thought never crossed your mind before this moment. “What do you mean? Are you saying that…”

“That I like you, for real? Maybe I am,” Taehyung says, feeling cheekier the more he talks. It might just be the night sky or the wind against his cheeks, or maybe it’s the way your eyes are reflecting the stars like a mirror, but he feels like there is magic in the air. It’s cheesy, it’s cliché, but it’s everything he imagined it would be like.

He’s spent many daydreams thinking about this, and he isn’t going to let his fear pull him under. Not now, not when he can feel the string pulling the two of you together tighten with every second.

“If the rumors were true, what would you say?” Taehyung whispers, lacing his fingers through yours. Your hands shake imperceptibly, but your stare is as stagnant as the affection he feels for you. What he has always felt for you.

When you respond, Taehyung swears the whole world could hear his heart fluttering for you.

Somewhere in the Slytherin dungeons, Jimin is smiling to himself in the comfort of his own bed, turning in early for the night. It truly had been a good investment to secretly start dating a seventh-year potions prodigy over the summer. What is even better is that the Potions professor never did remember to lock his Veritaserum ingredients with nothing more than a simple deadbolt.

He snuggles himself deeper into his pillow, snickering softly. Good job, Yoongi.

All is fucking well.

#btsboulangerie #btsguild #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #hogwarts!au #kim taehyung #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagines #taehyung fluff #bangtan #bts fanfic

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 5 years

Note

Angel y/n coming home to find demon harry naked on the bed reading. How smug he would be at the shock on her face

All Y/N wanted to do was show Harry the cute devil-horn pattern cooking apron she’d found at Target.

That’s all she wanted to do.

She just wanted to come home and hold it up proudly to see him break into that fond, giddy smile he gets whenever she does something that makes him extremely happy. She just wanted to hear that adorable boyish giggle he’d release while slipping the ribbon over his head and tying the back into a knot, snorting once he saw that the ends of the strings had little pointed peaks to symbolize devil tails. He’d say he loved it and thank her with a chaste kiss to her forehead, a pat on the bum, and probably some crude remark about how he used to own an apron with topless women on it.

Instead, she got much more than what she bargained for.

Granted, she should’ve announced that she was home as soon as she walked through the front door. It would’ve given Harry a heads up on her presence and she’s maybe about fifty percent confident he would’ve handled himself accordingly.

But Y/N had wanted to surprise him, too excited to thoroughly think her plan through.

She swiftly sets down the rest of the groceries onto the kitchen island, kicking off her shoes and dashing up the carpeted stairs to their shared bedroom on the top floor of the condo, the apron whipping behind her.

Y/N bumps the door of the room open with her shoulder, already holding up the apron before her with an ecstatic`aura evident in her tone. “Harry, look what I found at—”

Her words lodge in her throat like a demon blade.

Laying on the bed is Harry, back propped against the headboard and legs crossed casually at his ankles, a worn, aged, wine-colored book propped easily against his thighs. The scraped up cover of the novel has its title engraved in reflective gold calligraphy, some of the letters stained with a dried, suspiciously dark liquid: Demonology et Transcendentalis Magia: Carminibus et Invocationes.

In smaller, copper-tinted print below the cursive is the title in English: Demonology and Transcendental Magic: Incantations and Invocations.

However, the satanic scripture isn’t what causes Y/N to release a strangled yelp.

It’s the fact that beneath the book, Harry’s thighs are utterly bare, as well as the rest of his legs, and the rest of his entire body. He’s completely nude.

Her choked sound of mortification pricks at his ears, his head snapping upwards in startled confusion.

The curls at the nape of his neck and around his ears are visibly damp, the rest neatly combed back from his face as to not disturb his immersion in the grimoire. His eyes flit completely black for a second and out of protective instinct, he mumbles a quick, simple defensive spell under his breath. “Ligaveris.”

Bind.

Y/N’s arms immediately slam down at her sides, an invisible force tightening all of her limbs together stiffly until she cannot move a single muscle. It feels as if she’s trapped inside a straight jacket, her whole body completely immobile from her neck down. In the spur of the moment, the apron had been ripped from her grasp and ended up strewn across the floor at her feet.

Harry’s eyes flicker from the silly article up to his girlfriend’s spooked face, apologetic familiarity dissolving away the alarmed contempt that had furrowed his brows and inked his eyes dark. “Oops.”

“‘Oops?!’” Y/N’s voice is strained and high, full of stunned fear that is slowly ebbing into annoyed range. “Get me the hell out of—”

“Solvo.” Release.

Her entire body slumps down as the rigidness in her muscles disappears into thin air. She takes in a slow, shaky breath, letting it out gradually.

She keeps her gaze focused down onto the ground, zeroed in on a faded stain in the carpet a few inches from her left foot. Her voice is full of irritated indignation. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She doesn’t have to look up to know he has a smug simper plastered across his tinted lips. His sly tone reveals it quite well. “Reading, obviously.”

She can sense him waving the book in the air haphazardly for emphasis, hearing it plop back down against his naked lap.

“Naked?!” Y/N nearly shrieks, still on edge from the sudden attack. “You’re reading naked?”

He shrugs carelessly. “I like to air dry.”

The snark in his remark causes her to shut her eyes in order to reign in composure, wanting to avoid smiting him into a black grease spot.

“You’re practicing satanic magic in our apartment, on our bed, nude?”

“Maybe so.”

Y/N snatches up the apron from the floor. “As if the nude part wasn’t bad enough?”

“S’not my fault you decided to waltz in here unannounced! You’re lucky I didn’t go with the spontaneous combustion spell.”

She indulges an exasperated sigh, the fabric of her gift crumpling in her fist.

The sound of the bed creaking echoes across the walls of the room, light footsteps padding across the carpet. Y/N can feel Harry closing in until he’s right in front of her, shifting her gaze from downwards to across the room to avoid an eyeful.

It lands on the small metal cross she has pinned to the lamp shade on her nightstand, which of course is now flipped upside down. She has to actively force herself to keep from glaring directly at him out of angry impulse.

It’s not helping that he smells of orchid apple shampoo and Tom Ford aftershave.

Harry ducks his head to the side and slides further left, trying to catch her line of sight, but she cranes her neck away just enough to avert a full frontal image of his unholy bits.

He leans forward, lips dragging along her stinging cheekbones and clenched jaw, his demeanor sultry and tauntingly persuasive, trying to coax her into looking. “Is that for me?”

Y/N jumps slightly when his fingers sift between her’s, prying the apron from her hold. He keeps his arrogant expression trained on her for a few more heartbeats, eventually tearing away to examine his present.

A preen of childish delight fills the tense air between them as he takes in the point of the gift. “Oh, I love this!”

Out of the corner of her vision she can see him slipping it on, releasing an amused hum (just as she thought he would) as he ties the ribbon around his waist. “The devil tails are a nice touch.”

“I thought you’d get a kick out of it.”

“You can look now, I’m decent.”

Y/N hesitantly abides.

The apron fits him well in length and width, though his broad shoulders are exposed for the most part. But it stops just above his knees, fitting the purpose of saving her from an uncomfortable situation she’s not really ready to face head-on yet (pun unintended, but there nonetheless).

Not to mention he looks absolutely adorable.

Harry lifts his arms up at his sides expectantly, the edges of his lips jolting into a giddy grin. “How do I look?”

“Like the cutest demonic chef I’ve ever seen.”

He poses with his chin propped on one of his shoulders, batting his eyes jestingly, dying them black for effect. “The only thing that could make this better was if it said something like ‘Expert in soul food.’ or ‘Summon the cook!’”

Y/N breaks into a heap of full-fledged giggles, his heart doing a summersault at the way her eyes flash with a holographic glint.

“I think…” He leans down and buttons his lips to her’s in a gentle kiss that causes her ears to crackle with literal electric energy, the tiny spurts of pastel blue lightning popping across the shells. He pulls back, pecking the tip of her heated nose. “I think I’m gonna go make us some dinner in my new nifty outfit.”

“I think that’s a great idea.”

Harry glimpses over his shoulder, eyes landing on his spellbook. “Venit.”

Come.

The novel suddenly lurches up from its spot on their bed, flipping closed as it flies through the air right into Harry’s awaiting palm. “I’m feeling some Italian tonight. Lasagna?”

Y/N nods distractedly, eyeballing the book with slight unease as he tucks it under his arm. “I got some fresh mozzarella.”

“Perfect. I’ll call you down when it’s ready.”

Harry brushes past his girlfriend, her eyes following him to the door. She should’ve known better.

Aprons only cover the front.

Y/N gets a wholesome view of Harry’s behind as he walks down the corridor that leads to the stairs; for some reason, she can’t look away. Her eyes trail down his taut back as it flexes with every step, following the line of his spine down to the swell of his ass and the curve of the backs of his thick thighs. He just looks so fucking good.

His voice breaks her little peep show, chiming from a few feet down the hallway with an air of self-satisfaction. “I can feel you ogling at my ass, darling.”

Y/N’s head lurches away, cheeks charring and eyes glowing faintly.

He throws a glance backwards, teeth digging into his bottom lip as it curves into a cocksure, pleased smirk; he pins her with conceited once-over.

“If you wanted to look at it so badly, y’just had to ask. It is yours, after all.”

#demon!harry #drabble

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eternity-official · 4 years

Note

♡ and ♦ for all the girlies !!

❀ — sunhee ;

♡ - romantic headcanon

At sixteen, Sunhee had her first love. He was kind of a ‘bad boy’ type and things didn’t end well. After the rose colored haze kind of lifted, she started to realize that their relationship wasn’t exactly healthy. They were often fighting and on again, off again, eventually she ended it because she knew her ambitions in life and the sacrifices they entailed. She also knew that what they had was making them both miserable. She wanted them both to have a chance at happiness.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

Sunhee likes to play guitar, she also likes watching dramas (especially super sappy ones), and on the flip side: enjoys horror movies. She can be a bit of a neat freak and the members say she nags a lot, but they also know that if she didn’t things would be a disaster. She has a lot of habits that may make her seem a bit controlling but she just wants things to be in order and she absolutely wants to do what’s best for everyone, to make sure they’re all able to reach the goals they all hope to.

❀ — flora ;

♡ - romantic headcanon

Flora figured out her sexuality pretty early on when she developed a crush on her female best friend (she never told said friend out of fear of judgement and losing her.) However, later in school she ended up befriending a girl with whom she ended up having a brief relationship with. The girl eventually ended things with her abruptly after deciding to go out with a guy from school instead, she told Flora it was for the best...for both of them. These days she often avoids even the subject of romance.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

Flora really likes horror movies?? Which given how soft and sensitive she is...You absolutely would not expect that. She enjoys them a lot and often pokes fun at Ruby, who despite having such a tough image, is really easily spooked. She obviously loves dancing and creating choreographies, it’s definitely her passion and favorite hobby. She’s also obnoxiously loud at times, but also definitely a happy pill for the members.

❀ — miyoung ;

♡ - romantic headcanon

Miyoung is the type to crush on others easily, but she’s very unlikely to simply give her heart away. She’s a very focused person and a tiny bit closed off, so honestly?? It’s quite hard to get her to open up and date seriously. She’s also very much in the mindset that she’s young and has things she wants for herself, so she’s fine with being independent. She’s also a bit impulsive, so tying herself down isn’t something she’s keen on.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

Miyoung absolutely LOVES movies. As someone who wanted to be an actress (and probably still would if given an opportunity), she loves seeing stories being told and loves studying the actors. She honestly loves any kind of storytelling and she loves to read too. She often comes off as a bit quiet/withdrawn because she’s very in her own head, she’s a very deep thinker. But the members know better than anyone that when she does open up, it can be quite the adventure.

❀ — ruby ;

♡ - romantic headcanon

Ruby is 100% the type to wear her heart on her sleeve. She’s gotten her heart broken quite a few times because of this. She knows what she wants and often goes for it without thinking about any foreseeable consequences. She’s also an extremely open and blunt person, so she also has trouble with that at times (especially with a temper like hers). She can also be a bit impulsive honestly.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

Ruby really enjoys playing video games! She’s crazy competitive though and will probably threaten your life over mario kart (just kidding...mostly). She also likes comics and superhero movies, tbh she’s kind of a nerd. And she’s actually really sensitive, which annoys her about herself because she’s a really tough and strong minded person, and typically she’s seen as someone really intense and fiery. But sometimes her emotions get the best of her.

#thank you for this!! I rly appreciate you sending stuff!!#( sunhee / about. )#( sunhee / headcanon. )#( flora / about. )#( flora / headcanon. )#( miyoung / about. )#( miyoung / headcanon. )#( ruby / about. )#( ruby / headcanon. )#( eternity / about. )#answered asks #long post #Anonymous

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thoughts-n-paper · 4 years

Text

Ranidaphobia

She was unable to move, terror-struck, as she stared at its eyes and at the same time, tried so terribly to avoid it. She could feel the raindrops sliding down its smooth skin as if they were crawling down her neck. She stood still as its throat expanded and in response, her lungs contracted as it produced that awful loud sound. Horrified in anticipation, she closed her eyes shut. When she opened them after a while, she was back in her purple walled bedroom, away from the dense forest she was standing in a few seconds ago, safe from any devil that might have been about to jump her. Ever since she started working on the new project, she had been having this nightmare every night, but right now was not the time to get to the bottom of this development. A glance at the clock and she jumped out of the bed and rushed to the bathroom. She always kept at least half an hour aside for her pre-shower rituals and another hour for after. It wasn't a lot of steps, rather more about spending enough time for each step. She had twenty types of cleansers and scrubbers and at least thirty different lip scrubbers, a part of her face she was the most conscious about. From a young age, she had been very careful about her skin, she did not just want good skin, she wanted a clean skin, even if it meant being late for work. As soon as she sat on her desk, Simon jumped on her, "You're late. Missed the morning meeting. And Alex wants to see you. ASAP. "He said smugly.

"Thank you, Simon." He never liked her, probably because he wanted the membership she was awarded. Alex was not a great mentor or even the best person to work under, but he knew how to woo the clients and sell the bare minimum for the maximum cost. The recent project bagged by him, incidentally by chatting up with the marketing head at a bar, was a children's toy brand trying to venture into children's snacks.

"Hi Alex. Sorry about this morning. I was just not feeling well."

"Oh, don't bother about it. The package design is finalized, this is the mascot they want."

He said passing her a sheet of paper without looking, it always looked like he had rehearsed it, placed the paper at precise steps, a file in his hands that is just a prop and then as soon as she took the sheet to examine, he walked up to stand behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“I am counting on you. You do a good job on this and your position might not be so temporary. ”She looked up to him and smiled.

This was his M.O. Being in his team, your only job is to refine the lines around his vague ideas and designs so he can later present it as his own and collect all the praise from the clients. It is demeaning, you do not grow intellectually, but it is a great way to make contacts in the high places and if the apprentice is quick enough, might catch some skills of the trade. She only looked at Alex’s sample after coming back to her table and the blood stopped flowing in her veins. She was petrified. She could suddenly feel her breakfast wanting to escape her body and she rushed to the bathroom.

She had been staring at the blank white paper for the past two hours. The sheet with the prototype was turned around, but the eyes on that hideous creature still haunted her. She has had a particular hatred towards frogs since her childhood, so much that she could not even bear to look at the rough caricature of one that Alex drew.

It sort of started when she was ten, this hatred and disgust. It had rained heavily the day before and while walking home she was cornered by a few of the older girls that were just hanging around in a nearby park. It started as basic entertainment for them, pointing out faults in her face, ridiculing her hair and clothes, she was used to that. But then one of the girls noticed a big croaking frog and decided it would be fun to play a fairy tale. She remembers running home that day, all the way trying to rub out the slime from her lips and face, struggling to hold her bag because her hands were too dirty to hold anything. She did not even dare to wipe the tears off her face. And the girls were running behind her shouting that she was so ugly, the prince would rather stay as a frog.

She pushed the memory deep down, took a long breath and then the sheet of paper in her hand. It was a simple cartoon of a frog in a top hat and dinner jacket, a very generic idea of an animal caricature and now it was her job to make it remarkable. That night she scrubbed her lips for an extra fifteen minutes to remove the smell of the puke, still, it kept waking her up every two hours.

The next day was just an extension to her ongoing nightmare, she threw up thrice that day and spent most of her day washing up. On the way home, at her wit's end, she decided to buy an extra-strong chemical peel mask for her lips.

It was the third day since this horrendous task had entered her life, she was tired from not sleeping, circles around her eyes and extremely chapped lips. It was also the day of submission of the first draft. She sat on her desk, took a look at her drawings and rushed to the toilet. The new peel did help this time, for she finally sat down with satisfaction. She had tried to back down from this project, although it would have been career suicide, she just couldn't go through with this one.

"No." That's all Alex said before returning to his lunch.

She asked again.

"No." And that was it.

After lunch, she stepped into Alex's office and handed him the designs. He took it from her and then strangely started staring at her. "You have got a bit of your lunch on your face, better clean it up next time you face someone. It's very off-putting. "She immediately turned around mortified and rushed out of the cabin. She took it and smelt it, and suddenly that wretched smell was back. She made a mental note to buy some more masks. And then she made another note to buy some anti-nausea tablets when she saw the review mail from Alex.

Two weeks in and she was still struggling. The scrubbing and peeling which started from her lips had now extended to her hands and face. The constant rubbing of sanitizer didn't help either. Her skin was dry and peeling off, she hadn't slept at all because every time she closed her eyes, there would be a frog in top hat smiling at her. And then there was all the puking, the color of which had now turned from yellow to red. There would be instances where frogs would start jumping up on her table or would sometimes emerge from the papers scattered and start dancing in front of her, but blinking strongly and rapidly would make them disappear one by one.

She was playing a game every day, get spooked and you lose, and she wasn't going to lose, not after she fought so hard to be in Alex's good books.

She stared at her falling face in the mirror and reached for the moisturizer, she took a little bit and placed little droplets randomly on her face and was immediately disgusted by it. It had become a ritual of sorts, wake up form a superficial sleep, struggling to face her reflection and barely able to touch her skin, she would still be driven to peel off every hanging skin scrape. Well hopefully it would all end soon, it was the day they present the final draft to the client and if all goes well, she will never be forced to look at a frog again.

“You look awful. Jesus, at least put some lipstick on.” She could see the repulsion in Alex’s eyes as soon as she walked in. Which was not too different from what she saw in the mirror herself. But, two hours of sitting in a room filled with pictures of different cartoon frogs, shutting her teeth so that the vomit doesn’t feel invited to burst out and tying her hands with an invisible metal wire so she doesn’t start to scratch the itch she had been feeling on her lips, she made it through the ordeal. They shook hands, smiled and headed off to a celebratory dinner. It was a group of five from the client’s side and then three people from their team excluding Alex. She may have had the worst months of her life but she had a feeling it was going to be worth it.

They all sat around a round table and were just waiting for dinner when one of the brand representatives stood up to make a toast.

“We would like to thank all of you. We had tried a lot of different agencies, even rolled in a few bad ones into production, but we think that our friend here has got what we need. So, we would like to offer you your next endeavor, our new drink.” And he pulled out a plastic bottle in the shape of the ugliest frog. “Now, I know the packaging is rubbish, which is why we need you. But, I ensure you the drink itself is delicious.” She thought she couldn’t move when he pulled out the bottle but she only realized how much easier it would have been to move before than when he started pouring the drinks. Everyone was expected to take one glass in their hands and drink to the toast. And Alex’s expressions weren’t subtle when she refused to pick one up.

“Just one last time,” She thought to herself. “One last time.”

They had five different toasts, all from the same alarmingly grinning frog-shaped plastic waste, and she drank each one of them repeating to herself those three words. She was only able to excuse herself once everyone started digging in their respective dinners. She rushed to one of the sinks while clutching to her bag. Ever since she started on the drawing, she had always kept all her supplies in her handbag. She pulled out her toothbrush and immediately started cleaning her tongue, simultaneously trying to make herself throw up. It didn't help, although she did manage to throw up, when she opened her eyes to look down, all she could see was little slimy snail-like creatures but without the shell, floating in the yellow and red fluid. She quickly opened up the sink tap and started cleaning it with the liquid soap they had on the side. She took a little bit in her palms and drank it to rinse her mouth, when she spat, two of those creatures fell from her mouth. She did it again with just water and this time more fell out. She repeated this for a while, each time hoping for a different result, so the next time she took a pump of the soap and rinsed her mouth with it, this time one came out. She rinsed her mouth with water the next time and a few spat out, so she used soap again. Now she started feeling something in her stomach, something which was moving around, shifting her organs, collecting them in a basket, so she decided to lie down on the floor and close her eyes.

She was looking up at one of those big tanks that they have in factories, then she was climbing the staircase beside it, trying to peek what was inside and once she reached on the top, she could see a thousand frogs shrieking and drowning in an orange liquid. She bent down and took a deep sip from it. As soon as she opened her eyes, she had to throw up again. This time they were alive, moving around, trying to reach back to her. As if her insides were their well, their home and her blood was the only thing that nurtured them. She stared at the bottle of the liquid soap, in the sink and back at the bottle. She finally reached for it.

Her body was found by a waitress who was sent in for check-in by one of her colleagues. There was white foam around her mouth and yellow puke in every basin. The waitress quit her job the next day.

#ranidae #ranidaphobia #frogs #fear of frogs #phobia #fearfrogs #germophobia #clean freak #shortstory #originalshort #fictionshortstory #storyofphobia #story of phobia

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years

Text

Burned Part 19

Summary: Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Part 19: Louise comes across startling news.

Louise sank into the hot water, letting out a long sigh of relief. She closed her eyes and took a few deep inhales of the lavender soap. It was a welcome distraction but it didn’t last long. She did everything she could to block out the noise in her head. All the panicked thoughts overlapping one another, each one getting louder than the last.

Just focus on the good.

Alfie.

Cyril and Paris.

All the new friends and family she’d gained. Evelyn, Bess, Anya, Vera, Maxine, Ollie, and Shayna, plus their children. Tante Eva, Bubbe Bluma, Tante Raisa.

Louise opened her eyes when a random memory popped back in her mind. Raisa holding her cheeks and complimenting her eyes. The lines around her eyes showing as she smiled warmly.

“Look at those beautiful brown eyes. How perfect they’ll look on a healthy baby boy.”

The room around her went too quiet and still. She was motionless in the bathtub, the water a sheet of glass around her. Cyril lay beside the tub, his droopy cheeks resting on his large paws. Faint sounds from Evelyn in the kitchen traveled up the stairs. A car passed by outside. But her ears hardly registered the sounds.

Slowly, as if weighted down with lead, she lifted a hand to her stomach. There wasn’t much to feel. Cool air touched her skin, steam rising up. Could there be something there? A child? Alfie’s child? Her child?

Louise sat there dumbfounded. She didn’t even have the ability to recall the date to fact check. Was it Christmas? Or Christmas Eve? Perhaps it was Boxing Day already. She chewed on her lip and tried once then twice to count the weeks. But the dates were muddled and she couldn’t pinpoint a number.

Breaking out of her daze, Louise stood and reached for the towel placed nearby. Cyril lifted his head and trailed her movements across the room but stayed in his spot on the floor.

Louise paced for a bit, unaware of her shivers from the sudden shock of cold air. Finally, she stopped in front of the vanity. Color had returned to her face, her cheeks flushed pink from the hot soak. She dropped the towel and stared at her abdomen as if waiting for the answer to appear in writing on her skin. She twisted left then right to see any indication of pregnancy. Her eyes began to play tricks and she couldn’t tell if her bare midsection actually had a small bump or if she hadn’t changed at all.

Ready to face facts, Louise donned a dressing gown, quickly tying the belt and going downstairs. Cyril followed, sensing some of her distress.

“Lyn, have you seen my diary?” She asked while searching through Alfie’s study. Her still damp hands left trails of water droplets over the wood desk and parchment.

“I think you left it in the parlor. I thought that’s where I saw it last.” Evelyn called back.

Leaving Alfie’s office, Louise finally found the book on the side table in the parlor. She stood over it, rifling through the pages.

Evelyn came from the kitchen. “You weren’t up there very long. Did you get sick again? Are you hungry?” The young woman noticed Louise’s harried nature.

Instead of answering, she searched the book, scanning over Alfie’s meetings and scribbled notes next to her own neat handwriting.

“Louise?” Evelyn grew more concerned by her silence. The woman’s face began to go pale again. “What’s wrong?”

Finally, she found the mark, the mark that Alfie always overlooked because he thought it was simply one of his wife’s doodles. A small flower tucked away in the corner of the Monday nearly eight weeks earlier.

Struck by a frigid wave of shock, Louise slumped onto the couch. A hand covered her mouth and she stared at Cyril. The bullmastiff sat in front of her, his sad eyes searching her face.

She’d been so caught up in the Italians, the holidays, and Alfie’s condition that she hadn’t noticed how late she was.

“Louise,” Evelyn repeated and touched her forehead to see if she was running a fever. “Should I call for Alfie or a doctor?”

“N-no.” Louise finally managed to get a word out. “No, Lyn, no.”

“You’ve gone white as a ghost…”

“I’m pregnant.” The words felt odd in her mouth. Ever since she was a young woman, she hoped she would be able to say those words. She thought about how joyful the occasion would be. Pregnant with her husband’s child. Then Daniel had nearly convinced her she was barren. She lost hope until she fell in love with Alfie. Then she couldn’t quit thinking about their family together. But the world had suddenly become so dangerous. Charlie Shelby was kidnapped right out from under Tommy’s nose. Grace was gunned down. So was John Shelby. Was it really the world she wanted to raise a child in?

“That’s wonderful.” Evelyn’s soft voice interrupted Louise’s gloomy thoughts. The young woman came from a community that celebrated a growing family. “You must be so happy.” She smiled warmly.

Louise’s lips parted and she struggled with the words. “I am…I know I am. I guess I’m just scared as well.” She whispered, her eyes still fixed on Cyril.

The dog whined and went to place his head in her lap. His nose prodded at her abdomen as if he knew about the child.

“Should I call Mr. Solomons? You can tell him the news?” Evelyn suggested.

“No,” Louise replied firmly and shook her head. “No, he can’t know. Not yet. Not until I know what he’s doing about…” She sighed and wrung her hands together. “Just, not yet.”

Evelyn wrinkled her brow but nodded. “Alright, then, I won’t tell anyone.” She promised. “But, Louise, it will be okay.”

“I want it to be, Lyn, I really want it to be okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is Louise coming in? I was looking for some of her notes.”

“Nah, still sick.” Alfie kicked shut a filing drawer. It had been three days since Christmas. Three days since John Shelby had been killed. Three days since Louise discovered the secret she’d been keeping from Alfie. But he didn't suspect anything. He merely thought she'd caught a stomach virus, nothing too serious. Although the longer the time she spent resting, the more he wondered if he should do something.

“Still?” Ollie frowned and looked up at his boss. “Should take her to a doctor.”

His boss gave him a stern look and dropped a heavy stack of books onto his desk, nearly crushing Ollie’s fingertips in the process. “You tryna insinuate I don’t take care of me fucking wife?”

“No sir, of course not. I was just…”

Alfie decided it wasn’t worth blowing his stack over. He sighed heavily and sat back down. He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes. Of course, he wanted Louise to go to the doctor but she was being just as stubborn as he was being. He woke up to her throwing up in the bathroom nearly every morning and night. “I told her to go but she won’t. Says it innit that bad and that she can work. But it’s certain stuff that triggers it, like nothing I’ve seen ‘fore. Evelyn can’t make eggs in the morning or Lou will get sick.”

“Oh…oh.” Ollie’s eyes widened in realization. Shayna had been pregnant more than enough times for her husband to know the symptoms. In fact, their third child had caused her to have an aversion to eggs as well. “Sir, she could be pregnant.”

“What?” Having never spent too much time around a pregnant woman, Alfie had no idea what to look for. He just sort of assumed he’d notice a bump first. He’d seen her dressing every morning and night, hell they’d even made love on Christmas Eve. Yet, he didn’t notice anything.

“Morning sickness, pregnant women get it in the first few months,” Ollie answered. “It’s pretty common.”

“S’not just in the morning.”

“Well, his assistant tilted his head with a shrug. “It’s sort of just what they call it, could be any time of the day.”

Alfie groaned and put his head in his hands. “Fucking hell.” It was the last thing he was expecting. It was also the last thing he needed. He was already worried about Louise’s wellbeing and now she could possibly be with child? “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He stood up with a grunt and grabbed his coat.

“Sir?” Ollie turned in his seat as his boss left the office in a hurry and cursing the entire way.

~~~~~~~~~~

The winter months had made the stiffness in Alfie’s hip unbearable. But he ignored the ache and ran to his home. By the time he arrived, his cheeks were red from the jog against the brisk wind. He used his key to enter, pushing through the entryway like a tank.

Evelyn had a nasty shock as Alfie stormed through the rooms without a knock or a warning. “Mr. Solomons-”

He ignored her and found Louise curled up in the parlor. Her feet were tucked to the side, a wool blanket resting over her lap, Cyril guarding by her. The bullmastiff stood and snarled at Alfie when he approached Louise too quickly.

Startled, the gangster halted. Never had the dog, or any dog for that matter snapped so viciously at him. Cyril had been protective over Louise but hadn't ever seen Alfie, his own master, as a threat before. “Cyril…”

Louise glanced up from the book in her hand. “He’s been a pill all morning. Won’t let anyone near me, snapped at Evelyn.” She rested a hand on Cyril’s head to calm him. “Sh, love, you know who that is, silly thing.” The dog calmed down and hopped up onto the couch to rest his head on her feet. His eyes watched Alfie cautiously.

Alfie was breathing heavily, the cold air stuck in his chest. He stood in front of his wife, not sure what to even say. The words were lodged in his throat.

Louise met his eyes. “Why are you home so early? Is everything okay?” She worried Luca Changretta may have shown up at the bakery. And yet, she didn't think the Italian-American would spook him so much.

“You pregnant?” He asked abruptly.

Louise’s eyebrows knit together in worry. She swallowed and chewed on the inside of her cheek before answering. “How do you know?”

Alfie’s shoulders slumped and he paced a few steps. Her response was enough of a confirmation for him. “Fuck, Lou, you knew?” He demanded and ran a hand over his beard.

“Not for very long.” She flagged her page, closed the book and set it aside. Then, she nudged Cyril to the side and removed the blanket from her lap, setting her feet on the rug.

Her husband grumbled incoherently, muttering something to himself. The shock was too much for him. Very few things surprised him so badly.

“Alfie, look at me.” She pled quietly from the couch. He turned and his blue eyes finally returned to her. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to tell you. I was waiting for the right moment. I didn't want you to be angry.” Her voice weakened to a faint whisper.

He dropped to his knees in front of her. “Lou, m’not angry.” He prefaced. His lower lip wavered as he took a shaky breath. “M’not, I promise, m'just...”

Louise touched his cheeks, concern riddling her face. “But you’re worried. I am too. Alfie, I'm so worried.”

He sighed and dropped his head. “Yeah.” He admitted. “Fucking terrified for more than one reason.”

“What’s going to happen?” She asked, her thumb making a soothing circle over his cheek.

“Nothing bad will happen,” Alfie assured her. “Nothing. You’ll be perfectly safe, yeah, there’ll be hell if someone tries anything. I’d like to keep it ‘tween us and people we can trust though. You tell anyone else?” He asked.

Louise shook her head. “Only Evelyn.”

“Good, good.” He rested his hands on her hips and took a few more breaths until he felt somewhat at ease again. He'd handle much more before. He could handle this with some sort of grace. All he wanted was for Louise to have her paradise and give her comfort. The pregnancy would be as simple as he could possibly make it for her. “Fucking hell.” He chuckled breathlessly. “Gonna be a father.”

She smiled and felt tears in her eyes. “The best father.”

He touched her abdomen. “Can’t fucking believe it. I mean, honestly, Lou, I dunno if I’ve really…” He scrunched up his face. Suddenly, he was so overcome with adoration for his wife that he wanted to shout out to the world. Instead, he had to swallow back tears of joy.

She laughed and kissed his forehead. “I know. I suppose it’ll feel more real when I’m showing a bit more.”

“Right, well, I’ll call the doctor ‘round.” He decided. “Ollie’ll have a doctor he trusts, yeah. Probably the one that delivered his kids, aye?”

Louise frowned and gave her husband a disappointed look. “Alfie, you cannot tell me to see the doctor when you’ve been avoiding the same thing for ages.”

“Ain’t about me right now.” He mumbled. There was no way he was going to think about his condition right after he found out he was going to be a father. How could he be a father to his only child if he had cancer? No, best to ignore it for as long as he could.

“It is about you. I want to know that you’re going to be okay so we’ll have a healthy family. All three of us. I'll need you by my side through this.” She coaxed gently. “Please.”

“This takes priority.” He replied firmly. Because from that moment forward, Louise and the child were his number one priorities until the day he died. Nothing would change that.

“You take priority too.” She argued and pressed a hand over his that was on her stomach.

“Lou-”

“It’s non-negotiable, Alfie. In fact, I think I’ve been pretty patient despite how worried I’ve been about you. And it’s not healthy to worry while I’m pregnant.”

He groaned and threw his head back. She wasn’t playing fair in his eyes but he also couldn't blame her. He was a pain to deal with sometimes, he was well aware of that. “I will when the time is right…” He attempted to push off her worry, sparing himself more time.

“The time is right now.” She interrupted.

“No…”

“Alfie, either you get examined or I’m not going.” It was a pretty harsh ultimatum, and Louise felt a little guilty about it. Of course, she wanted the best for her unborn child, but she needed to know Alfie would be okay too.

He pulled a bratty look but sighed in resignation. It seemed his wife had spent enough time around him to learn his tricks of negotiation. Everything or nothing. “Fine.” He caved in.

“Thank you.” Louise kissed his cheek. “It’ll be okay. But we need to know for sure.”

Alfie stayed kneeling in front of her, hugging her close. She cradled him close to her chest so he could hear her heartbeat. He closed his eyes and imagined hearing the heartbeat of his child. But his stomach was in knots all the same. He didn't want Louise to know how scared he was. Scared to find out he was dying. Scared to know that he might not even see the birth of his first and only child. Scared that Louise would be left alone in the world, left to raise the child by herself. The child never knowing who he was. He pressed closer to Louise and closed his eyes tighter. His breathing became more shallow and he felt like the room was caving in on him. He prayed.

Please, Lord above. Let me see the child. Let me live. I've never begged you to live. Now I'm fucking begging. Let me live.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams

Tag List: @vehement-care @kimmietea @eleventhdoctorsangel @fire-treasure-iii

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#alfie solomons #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #tom hardy #tom hardy character #tom hardy imagine

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strange-n-unbluusual · 5 years

Text

Pink! Ch. 1: The Setup

*Beetlejuice/Original Female Character. Adult situations. 18+ only.*

Summary: After six breather years away from the house on the hill, Beetlejuice returns to find it overrun by coeds. Lydia allows him to stay, but with rules. Things get more interesting when Beck, one of the housemates, reveals she can see him. Following a saucy, sordid affair, Beetlejuice finds himself lingering around Beck more and more. But will her affection last? And why does it seem to bother Lydia so much?

50% drabble, 50% actual plot. DMs are always open for thoughts, feedback and suggestions. Ty. On AO3 as CopperContessa_13

Energy in the Victorian house on the hill was high as 20-somethings laughed at everything and chugged cheap beer. Speakers were only set up in the living room, but the raised bass made the whole house jump. A thin mist of condensation hung in the air. Heavy petting was rampant and drinks flowed freely. Dimmed lighting gave the house a kind of an “Eyes Wide Shut” feel, but it was just sweaty, sloppy, young fun.

Beetlejuice fucking hated it.

Usually he liked being a voyeur to the hedonism that events like this brought, but tonight he was annoyed. The ghost with the most could only stand sitting out on all the fun for so long. He craved attention and was now starting to starve for it.

So much had changed in the barely six breather years he was away. Chuck and Delilah had turned the place into a rental for college students, all of the rooms had been redecorated by people with much worse taste (needs stripes!) and— of course— Lydia had grown up. He sat on the kitchen counter and watched her carry on conversation with some rando. Still short, still draped in dark colors, but clearly more comfortable with herself. He noticed she laughed more, at least. And the tattoos on her thigh and arms told him she’d also found a way to express herself.

Beetlejuice bounced his leg and fidgeted with his pants, fighting the urge to make a scene. Locking eye contact with Lydia for a moment, he pouted and pleaded with his eyes for her to let him do something (anything!) to get a rise out of someone. She just gave a small head shake of disapproval. Beetlejuice dramatically crossed his arms and sulked. Lydia giggled, but he couldn’t tell if it was at him.

She was the only one willing to give him a chance after it all happened, but she had her rules. No coercing a mortal to summon him, namely. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to cross her. What good was being back if he can’t be seen? What good was company if you feel alone?

The Maitlands were nowhere to be seen since his reappearance— something that obviously bugged Lydia. They had to be around somewhere, but neither one could figure out where they hid. A gnawing sensation in his barely-there conscience reminded him it was his fault that things were this way. He brushed it off. It wasn’t like she hadn’t made living friends, he thought watching people squirm past each other as they tried to move room to room.

Hopping off the counter, he slunk away, corporeal enough that dragging his hand on the counter knocked a nondescript bottle onto the floor. He was not corporeal enough, however, for anyone to call him (specifically) out on his party foul. Through the bumping music and carrying on, no one even noticed it shatter on the floor. They just walked through the shit.

Woe is Beej.

He liked to mope on the roof when he was moody. Sitting with his knees pulled against his chest, Beetlejuice took a dramatic breath he didn’t need to and looked up at the moonless sky.

“Hey asshole, you owe me a new bottle of cognac,” a voice quipped from behind him.

“Hey now, that’s Mr. Asshole to y—“ His words died in his mouth as realization hit him square in the face.

That’s not Lydia’s voice.

Twisting his head 180 degrees, he recognized the woman behind him as one of Lydia’s roommates. Her relaxed body posture was juxtaposed against a wide-eyed, eyebrow-knitted expression. Seems as if she was cool about the situation before seeing his inhuman reflexes.

“You’ve seriously got to be fucking with me right now,” Beetlejuice said, eyes narrowing. “Beck! Have you been able to see me this whole damn time?”

She looked at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. It felt so weird to hear him address her.

Beetlejuice’s ceaselessly annoying antics forced Lydia to spend more time out of the house. He learned to adapt, though. Spooking the housemates he didn’t like and spying on the ones he did was a favorite pastime. He’d hang around their shoulders and entertain himself with whatever they were doing on their phones. He liked TikTok compilations a lot. Also porn.

Out of everyone, Beck was the least fun. She never paid attention to any of his pranks or complained much when her underwear went missing. She never even downloaded TikTok. Not even ironically! All this time he thought she was lame. She was probably laying low on purpose, he realized.

She averted her eyes and shifted her posture, clearly uncomfortable.

“Ehh… Could you put your head back on right first?”

Challenged, Beetlejuice rose up on all fours to crab walk towards the window. He made a show of it, grossly twisting all of his limbs as he moved towards her. She groaned. Untwisting himself, he perched one arm on the windowsill and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

“Wait until you see what my dick can do,” he smirked.

Beck tried to roll her eyes and look unfazed, but Beetlejuice caught a faint blush creep up her neck.

Beck was something to look at when the house hosted these ragers. Tonight was no different. Even if he wasn’t much in the mood, Beetlejuice most definitely noticed the way she’d move in her tight dresses and skimpy tops. Ah, college.

“Don’t be weird. You owe me liquor,” she said pointedly as he crawled back into the room.

“Beck, babe,” Beetlejuice said with a sigh. “I can’t do cognac, but I bet I can do you one better. Bet you’ve never had home brew from the Netherworld.”

She quirked an amused eyebrow but said nothing.

“Think about it! You’ll be able to out-snob all of your other wino friends,” he mused.

“We’re amateur cicerones!”

Beetlejuice just laughed. Beck crossed her arms across as she considered his offer. He couldn’t help but stare at her boobs as they peaked ever-so-slightly more from the motion. Finally, she let out a sigh and rolled her eyes.

“We are pretty snobby…”

Beetlejuice just chuckled and gave her a mischievous smile before disappearing.

⁂

He reappeared minutes later gripping two six packs of unmarked glass bottles. Beck had slipped into something more comfortable— that is to say, a far cry from her earlier getup. Beetlejuice’s demeanor visibly deflated when he noticed her skimpier attire was traded out for a more modest hoodie and sweatpants.

“Aren’t you going to be hot in that?”

“Not up here. Fuck going back downstairs,” she snorted.

“Wow,” Beetlejuice deadpanned. “Ditching a party to drink alone. So hardcore.”

“Well I don’t have to drink alone. Do I…?” She gave him an expectant look.

“Do you?!” he squealed. In a second, he’d dropped the booze on her desk, grabbed one for himself and jumped on her bed. “No, babe, you don’t.”

Beck gave a small chuckle and grabbed a bottle for herself. Through the tinted glass, she couldn’t tell much about the lukewarm liquid other than it was more viscous than what she was used to drinking. Aside from a lingering sweet scent, the dark substance gave no other indication of what it was. She took a sip.

“In the Netherworld, we call that ’blood,’” Beetlejuice said nonchalantly. He looked up after a beat to see her looking at him wide-eyed with a mouthful of the stuff. “But it’s like. Not actually blood.”

With the same intense stare, Beck finally swallowed.

“Not human blood, at least.”

She looked like she was going to vomit before a barking laugh gave away his ruse. Her posture eased.

“Babe, you make this too easy!”

In between conversation, they drank. Beck sat at the foot of the bed while Beetlejuice laid back into her pillows. A look on her face gave away her mild discontent about his stench being on her things, so he made sure to get extra cozy. He kicked off his shoes and belched before taking a swig.

“You’re a terrible houseguest,” she groaned.

“You’re a terrible host! You could see me this whole time and said nothing!?”

Beck shrugged.

“Lydia told me it would be better that way.”

He shrunk a little bit hearing those words. Beck felt a little shocked, seeing his expression drop. It was the first time she had noticed him show anything aside from lust and snark. She didn’t know what to say.

“I-It’s not like I asked for this. I don’t know why I can see you. Lydia said strange and unusual people keep strange and unusual company,” Beck finally said.

“That’s weird,” Beetlejuice said. “Usually it means you’re dying.”

She sharply caught her breath in shock.

“Seriously, Beck! Too easy. Of course you’re dying. We all die. Sometimes more than once.”

“Comforting.”

A light, effervescent feeling rose in the pit of her stomach and began to spread to her limbs. Beck looked at her bottle and saw it was only about halfway gone. How the hell was she already starting to feel tipsy?

“Potent, right?”

“I swear to god, if you put something in here, Lydia is just a text away,” Beck warned, leaning over to jab a finger squarely into his chest. “And she still has that book that can tell how to banish you.”

Beetlejuice stared at Beck’s finger than back her, unimpressed. He grabbed it, but only to move it away. She tried to seem undeterred, but brief terror in her eyes betrayed her.

“Bold of you to threaten a demon, Beck,” he laughed. “But you have nothing to worry about. I’m not that kind of monster.”

A bit more relaxed, she got up to grab two more of the unmarked bottles before easing back onto the bed. Passing one to him, she decided to lay out at the top of the bed this time. She looked at him while resting her head on her hand. Even baggy sweatpants couldn’t hide the curve of her thick thighs and rockin’ ass, he thought.

A familiar, unwelcome tightness in his pants made him switch his position. Beetlejuice tried to distract himself.

“The fuck kind of a name is Beck anyway?”

She cracked open her second drink, seemingly not thinking anything of Beetlejuice’s decision to sit cross-legged with a pillow on his lap.

“It’s short for Bexley.”

“…Okay, well, what the fuck kind of a name is Bexley??”

“Well what the fuck kind of a name is Beetlejuice?” She shot back.

“Huh?” He asked, holding a hand to his ear.

“Beetlejuice!”

“Run that by me one more time, baby. You mumble.”

He thought maybe she didn’t know how summoning worked, but she caught on. Beck giggled and flopped onto her back. Ever clingy, Beetlejuice was too enamored with the moment to worry about being caught breaking Lydia’s rules. A goofy smile slipped on his face watching her.

“Fuck you,” she said through a laugh.

“Yes, please.”

Those words caught her off guard. She didn’t respond, just broke eye contact as a blush lit up her face. Beetlejuice couldn’t help but drink her in.

“Not sure why you’d care, but Bexley is a family name,” She said as soberly as she could. The drink was really settling into her veins now. “At one point, it was my great great great grandmothers maiden name. She got married and had no other siblings to pass it on. So every generation since then has had a ‘Bexley.’ Unless you’re a stupid kid like me who couldn’t pronounce the whole thing. So, Beck it is.”

He reflected thoughtfully on what she said for a moment.

“My first name is Lawrence!” he blurted.

There was nothing funny about it, but Beck laughed anyway. Mostly at his enthusiasm. It felt infectious. “Do you always get so giggly when you drink?” He asked.

“Lawrence,” she tried the name out in her mouth. “Laaaaawrence. Lawrence.”

She rolled over and looked up at him thoughtfully. Cautiously, she reached up and touched his forehead. A streak of pink exploded at the roots above where her touch landed.

“I always liked how your hair turns colors,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve seen light pink before, though. Do they all mean something?”

“Yeah! Pink means you give me a boner, Bexley.” He blurted out. He reached under the pillow on his lap to pull out an actual bone. “It’s a fibula this time!” They both doubled over in drunken laughter. Neither could help it. After a minute, Beck placed a hand on his shoulder for balance and propped herself up to look him in the eye. His mouth opened partially in shock, recognizing the look she was giving him.

“You make me wet, Lawrence,” she said while tipping the rest of her second drink into her mouth. She did a sloppy job of it, droplets running off the side. Without thinking, Beetlejuice grasped her sides and pulled in to lap them up. He squeezed the flesh under her hoodie in a hard and needy way. Beck moaned and threw her head back.

Like instinct, her hands tangled in his hair and urged him to move further down. She gasped when he bit her neck, hungry to feel her under him. It was when she ran a hand down his torso towards the pillow on his lap that he remembered himself. Beetlejuice backed off, suddenly aware that he felt like he was being watched.

It took everything in him to push her off and stand up. He couldn’t even manage words, just held up his hands and backed away.

“Lawrence, what the fuck?” Beck said.

But he was already gone.

⁂ The house was a deadzone when he came back. The crowd was gone, leaving a huge pile of cans in their wake. There was no vomit this time, so they probably figured the mess could wait. It just made him feel more at home, anyway. He floated up the stairs. After making sure Lydia was safely in bed, Beetlejuice decided to check on Beck.

Her snores were muffled by the pillows she buried her head in. The way she was splayed out on the mattress was endearing, but the way her boobs nearly hung out of her bunched up hoodie made him hard again. Beck had left her pants on the floor, showing off a pretty pink thong. Spank bank filled, he was about to leave when she sleepily called out.

“Lawrence?” She said dazedly, raising her head. It killed him how innocent she sounded saying it. Fumbling with his jacket, he stayed quiet while he hesitated to answer. She called again, still.

“I know you’re here. I can smell you.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Beck,” he said “Do you remember what happened?”

“What? Of course,” she scoffed, sitting up to look at him. “I want more of that ‘blood.’ Double the high and none of the hangover. Now come lay down.”

Well, she did ask. He shrugged out of his jacket, stripping to only to his button-down and a ratty pair of briefs. Socks on, of course. He was a gentleman.

Beck scooted aside and haphazardly covered herself with a blanket. A passing look in her eye made him think she knew exactly what she was doing. He had so many questions, but now wasn’t the time. Her heavy lidded eyes let him know she was desperate to sleep. Beck reached out to lightly touch a spot of moss on his cheek. She smiled.

“What?” Beetlejuice said.

“I was wondering if the moss turns colors too.”

Her words made him melt. Beetlejuice knew he’d eventually have to answer to Lydia for sneaking around with her roommate, but it was worth it. For now, he was happy to hold Beck close and save the tougher conversations for morning.

“Hey, Beck?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Yeah.”

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice musical #musical beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #dramatic #beetlejuice fandom #fluff #writing #original female character #betelgeuse #beetlejuice nsft #nsft

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royalcordelia · 5 years

Note

Hey babe it’s me, your wife. I’d love it if you wrote a drabble based on any of the shots from the trailer that really sparked your imagination. Maybe expand on the Diana and jerry cuteness? Or the satanic ritual? Or the dance lessons? Whatever your sweet heart desires! Sorry this isn’t very straightforward 🤪

@neveragainsanta‘s prompt was my idea for yours, Alex, so I’m merging the two! Hope you both don’t mind!

things that fall (i, for you)

“Certainly more catastrophic things have happened before,” reasoned a panicked Anne. “Like the burning of the library of Alexandria, the crucifixion of Christ, the falling of Rome…” She stared at her reflection,cursed her own eternal stupidity. She wished she could turn her imaginative brain off so she’d stop seeing her cheeks as two ripe strawberries with a million freckles for seeds.

“All you did was kiss a boy,” Anne tried to reason evenly, but failed miserably. All at once, the realization crashed over her as devastating as if it had just happened. In a low, scared voice, Anne stared back at her own terrified reflection, “I kissed Gilbert Blythe. I kissed Gilbert Blythe.”

Tearing away from her mirror, Anne collapsed onto her bed, hands covering her eyes as a universes’ worth of shame settled on her like a thick blanket.

“How am I going to tell Diana? Oh god, how am I going to face him at school?”

Perhaps in the back of her mind, she was ignoring a somewhat important fact. Sure, she had kissed Gilbert Blythe, but he had kissed her back. Quite enthusiastically too, for a boy who’d never kissed anyone before.

It certainly wasn’t the logical outcome for how the interaction began. Squeezing her eyes shut, Anne tried with all her might to keep the memory from replaying in front of her eyes, but it was there over, and over, and over-

She’d been watering the flowers along the side of the house when she heard his footsteps striking the ground at an astonishing pace. Half expecting a horse to be galloping up the lane, she jumped when she realized Gilbert Blythe was running up to see her. When he was close enough them to meet gazes, his face burst into a wide grin.

“Anne, you won’t believe it!” he called out. Some of the chickens pecking around the barn rustled at the sudden call into the farm’s peaceful quiet. Anne hurried to the gate, but he skidded to a stop right in front of her before she could open it.

“Gilbert Blythe, what on earth has gotten into you?”

Catching his breath, Gilbert hunched over his knees and let out a wispy laugh.

“Guess why I’ve come,” he said excitedly.

“I…I couldn’t even begin to fathom!” she replied, her own laughter at his askew appearance making his smile even wider. The warm weather had turned his cheeks a pale red, and the afternoon sun glimmered the iridescent highlights in his hair, like the milky way against its dark galaxy. Anne could deny it when asked, but was hopeless at denying to herself that Gilbert had grown abundantly handsome in the last year. Yet, his heart changed so little. When he pressed his lips firmly together, Anne resisted the urge to reach over and shake him. “Aren’t you going to tell me?”

“Give me one good guess, and then I will reveal what I know,” he said with pretend officiality. Anne placed a finger on her chin as mimicked a person deep in contemplation.

“You’ve decided to join the traveling circus and become their trapeze walker,” Anne supposed. His hearty guffaw hit her ears like beautiful music that was so pleasant, Anne nearly repeated her joke in hopes that she might hear it again.

“That was indeed a good guess. It’s even better!”

“Better? Now I’m almost anxious!”

A confident glint took life in his eyes as he pulled a folded up newspaper snippet from his pocket. The sight of the wheat-colored paper made Anne’s nerves spark with electricity for reasons that she didn’t understand. With a tentative look in her eye, she took the slip when he offered it and peered down at it’s contents.

Queen’s College Pupil Acceptance (In order of test scores)

1. Gilbert Blythe (Avonlea) - Score 200

Anne’s heart filled with bitterness. Of course he only came to gloat about his own success. They’d been studying together, joking about who would come in first at Queen’s together, tackling their textbooks together. He’d told her how much she improved, and for the first time in her life, Anne wondered that she might finally be first in something - fair and square.

“You must be so pleased, Gil,” Anne found the strength to mutter, folding the paper back up. If she turned her gaze from the ground, she might see the utter incredulity with which he gawked.

“Anne. Anne, look again. With both eyes this time!”

Against her better judgement, she did.

1. Gilbert Blythe (Avonlea) - Score 200

1. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert (Avonlea) - Score 200

“We tied,” Gilbert said.

Anne felt like she’d gained ten years of her life back. Her head shot up to Gilbert and met his confident joy with her frantic excitement. All the time they’d spent studying together into the sunset hours had paid off. All the times he’d teased her over geometry, all the times she’d poked him over a misspelled word in his essay, every fumbling compliment to keep the other motivated had all led to this. They’d done it!

She hopped onto the fence, took Gilbert by the face and kissed him.

Don’t ask her why she did it. In retrospect, she supposed she wanted to in the moment. (And tragically, now that she’d done it once, she wanted to do it again, and again, and again, and)

Neither of them knew what to do. Not just because of their inexperience but also because they were kissing. They were friends, kindred spirits, orphans who understood each other, and they were kissing.

The books she read never gave much detail about kissing, and the few moments of affection Anne had witnessed in couples were so brief, she could hardly take notes. How long were you supposed to kiss? Was this too long?

Just as Anne began to pull back, Gilbert chased her so that the connection didn’t break. His hands came up to hold hers on his face, the tenderness of his touch so jolting that she broke back abruptly and stumbled off of the fence. Chancing a look at his face, Anne fortified herself for the worst.

But Gilbert didn’t look repulsed or upset like she expected, or even afraid like she was. He was never afraid.

“Why’d you do that?” he asked finally, with such a strong hint of hope that Anne had to catch herself from stumbling back another step.

“I don’t know,” Anne said quickly, quietly. “Can we…um..”

Do it again?

“Never mention that it happened?” he supplied, tone unreadable.

“Oh, uh, yes. That’s what I meant.”

Clearing his throat, Gilbert ran a hand through his hair with an audibly unsteady sigh, then began back up the lane.

“Have a nice evening,” he called over his shoulder, but it sounded like words merely leaving his mouth without intention, without meaning.

Laying on her bed, Anne gave a whimpering groan at the memory of it. She’d been wrong when she assumed that she could kiss a boy if she felt like it. If that were true, she’d be at his home, at his fence, retrying what they’d stumbled through for a few short seconds.

Fate was prepared to make the next day of school actual, physical torture as Anne faced the impossible task of avoiding Gilbert. She clung to Diana’s side, attempting to maintain the routine of normalcy of their dull school day, but the news had already spread about the Queen’s results.

“Anne! Congrats on tying with Gilbert! Did you have any idea before the results came out?” and “Wish the exam was out of 201 so you could’ve beat her, bud!” and “The only reason you tied with him anyways was because he taught you. You could’ve at least repaid him by missing one point.”

Anne and Gilbert danced around each other, even if Billy and Josie were much worse company. So in the mess of the noise and all the questions, when Charlie asked, “Is Gilbert walking you home today?” Anne’s mouth answered for her.

“No, he’s not.”

“Then could I?”

Anne’s head snapped up, and she looked at Charlie Sloane as if he were an extraterrestrial.

“No, you cannot.”

“Why not?”

“I’m…walking myself! I’m perfectly capable, thank you!”

Then she dashed away into the coat room. She made quick work of snatching up her hat and pulling on her coat, a sharp pain beginning to form behind her temple. Spinning around, Anne meant to aim right for the door -

And nearly bumped into Gilbert Blythe who seemed to be attempting the same quick escape. His hands lowered from his hat slowly, as if she was a doe he was afraid of spooking. Anne’s lips parted as she searched her mind for something to say, but for once, she was on her own.

Gilbert had something to say, she could tell. It was right behind his lips but he bit down harshly on the words to keep them from tumbling out. At last, straightened his hat and gave her a nervous smile.

“Anne, I heard you tied with me on the Queen’s exam. Congratulations.”

She blinked.

“Thank you, Gil. We both worked hard,” she replied slowly. Then, after a beat. “Does this mean you don’t despise me?”

Gilbert’s eyes squinted, the way he did when he smelled something unpleasant.

“Why would you think that?”

From the other side of the coat room, Jane and Tilly threw them a questioning expression.

“No reason,” Anne answered. “Are you still walking me home today? If not, I don’t mind.”

The ice between them thawed into nothingness as Gilbert smiled the grin that turned Anne’s knees to liquid. He grabbed her books from her hands and headed out the door with another word.

Anne felt strawberries on her cheeks again, but this time she didn’t mind. She swept out the door, and fell at Gilbert’s side, admiring the galaxy in his hair and the sweetness in his eyes. For a moment, she wondered if he was looking at her that way too.

#anne with an e #anne of green gables #shirbert #shirbert ff #tessa writes #asks and answered #drabbles #hecksinki

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splat-dragon · 4 years

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“O-oh, but he’s a present enough, I wasn’t expecting anything, you didn’t need to give me anything!” she glowered at him, moving as though to shove her wallet in his face then pushing it into her jacket, her harsh green eyes brooking no argument.

“I-thank you.” he finally acquiesced, and her grin was well worth it.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild, wild horses we'll ride them some day ~Wild Horses, The Rolling Stones

Evan woke him at just-gone sunrise on Christmas Eve, and proceeded to almost kill him of a heart attack at the same time.

He hadn’t realized it was her at first—she’d been dressed different than he’d ever seen her at the shack, in an outfit he’d only seen her wearing while doing work in Lemoyne, when she’d taken down Hixon, and they’d transported the ingredients on the boat. A jean jacket with no sleeves, a white undershirt and jeans, wrist-length gloves, cowboy boots and a cattleman hat. Not at all warm enough for the chilly Grizzlies, even where the shack was built, warmer than the mountains. Lem’d never seen her in the shack in anything other than her Rexroad coat, long worn leather and furs, and she’d startled him enough that he’d scrambled for his gun beneath his pillow, dropping back to the bed when she stepped back, holding her hands up in the seven, leaving him to clutch at his chest, “Y-you startled me!”

She had the grace to look sheepish, scuffing her boot on the wood floor and dipping her head in an exaggerated manner—he didn’t think he’d ever heard her talk, but he’d learned to read her body language in the near-year he’d known her, and she’d always exaggerated her movements when she was using them to communicate, when they weren’t natural but her way of speaking instead.

“What d’ya need?” he grumbled, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair, before realizing that this was Evan and he was in his sleeping clothes and yanking his blanket up to provide himself as much decency as he was going to get, and from the amusement on her face it was clear the action hadn’t gone unnoticed.

She grinned, and reached for his arm, tugging at his union suit, very pointedly indicating ‘come with me!’ and he squawked as she took hold and tried to tug him out of bed—what had gotten into her?! He’d never seen her like this before, she’d always been relatively level headed and withdrawn, although sometimes he’d like to think he’d seen her give him a fond grin when he got over-excited, although he was certain it was his imagination, why would she have smiled at him when he was talking of his plan before the explosion that nearly killed her and had left her permanently scarred him? That burn scar twisted her mouth, left only one side to perk up with her grin, but still her eyes gleamed, and he wondered if she was drunk, had started her Christmas Eve by breaking into their moonshine stash, but her eyes were clear and there was no flush to her face, and he wondered if she was one of those folk who, for some strange reason, changed wholly for the holidays.

“Okay okay I’m comin’! Just… let me get dressed!”

She stared at him.

He stared at her.

With a snort and a shake of her head, she turned sharply on her heel, crossed her arms, and stared at his door as he hurried to dress. He wasn’t a prudish man, not in the least, and was quite used to changing in front of others, but changing in front of Evan was different—though he wasn’t one of those folk who believed that women were inherently weaker than men (just look at Aunt Maggie, after all!) there was something about having her, a woman he could see was relatively muscular even through her clothes, from her bared forearms in those clothes, see a man such as him; he wasn’t fat like a city man, didn’t have a beer gut, but neither was he particularly muscled, either.

Finally dressed, he cleared his throat, and she didn’t even turn around, just hurried out of his room, and he knew better and scurried after her, fumbling the jacket she tossed his way before wrapping it around him, asking “Where we goin’?” but she didn’t answer, instead smirking at him over her shoulder, nodding towards the door in another clear ‘Come on!’ and waving at Aunt Maggie as she walked by, the woman calling out

“You two have fun,” eye knowing as she looked at Lem, refusing to say anything more when he stared at her pleadingly.

Outside her Thoroughbred waited, a handsome thing he’d only seen once or twice, a dark red it looked near black, and he looked around to see if she’d brought another horse—usually she brought her nastily tempered Ardennes Cassim and either Scheherazade her Criollo or Douban her reddish Walker for him to ride if she wanted him to ride with her for work, but he’d never complain if she didn’t bring Cassim, that horse hated him, hated everyone it seemed, excepting her.

She slung herself up into the horse’s saddle, and he tried to remember its name (Sinbad, he was pretty sure), before offering her hand to help him up, and even as he swung himself up behind her he asked “Don’t you want to get a jacket?” because it was freezing so early in the morning, even with his fur jacket he was shivering, and he could feel her do the same as he put his hands on her hips to balance himself as she kicked the horse into a canter, shaking her head.

Although it was impossible for him to miss the way she leaned back into him, seeking his body heat.

To his confusion, they didn’t ride far at all, barely an hour and a half—and awkward hour and a half, seeing as they couldn’t much keep up a conversation, though she didn’t have to guide the horse as it followed the road on its own, clearly having traversed it many times before, she couldn’t exaggerate her movements to respond to him, only nod or shake her head, and he ran out of yes-or-no topics within the first half-of-an-hour.

She pulled Sinbad to a stop not far from the larkspur fields in the Big Valley, grinning at him and pushing on his shoulder to gesture him to dismount. He did so, her boots thumping to the ground only moments later, patting the horse on the shoulder before tying his reins around his saddlehorn, but not hitching him, which would be just asking for him to be eaten considering they were in grizzly and cougar territory, shivering and rubbing her arms before gesturing ‘follow me’ and dropping into a crouch, so he did the same, slinking after her as she crawled up a hill that led up the flower fields, carefully avoiding the creek.

Her arm shot out, pressing against his chest before they crested the hill, “Wh-” he started to ask but she looked at him and pressed her finger to her mouth in a universally recognized ‘shhh,’ and only pulled it away when he nodded, her face almost comically serious. He mimicked her when she lowered herself to her stomach, belly-crawling up through the grass, grinning at him and pointing at a herd of horses not far away, that would surely have been spooked if he spoke or if they had walked over the hill.

She looked over at him, arched an eyebrow and gestured at the horses, and he whispered, “They’re beautiful,” looking over the herd, over the Saddlers and the Standardbreds, grazing and rolling and dozing, foals cavorting around. One little grey Saddler suckled at his black-and-white mama, and he grinned—movement next to him caught his eye, looking over to see Evan pulling out one of those new-fangled portable cameras, taking a picture that seemed painfully loud in the silence. They both froze, and the herd looked their way, a palomino mare trotting towards them and blowing loudly, but slowly the herd went back to their activities, though the mare, who they took to be the lead mare, kept an eye their way.

Evan nudged his shoulder, and he startled, looking at her and mouthing‘what?’ She pointed at a black Standardbred, and tilted her head at him—'what do you think?’ was the closest he could gather, and he shrugged; it looked pretty scrawny, nothing that would be useful to her. He gestured to a nearby Saddler of the same color, and she shook her head, making a cradling gesture with her hand—'too young’ .

She pointed at a pretty pinto Saddle mare, eyeing at him and tilting her head, and he gave a half-hearted nod. It was in good health, it looked like, but was just a middling thing, didn’t look too fast or strong or stood out in any sort of way. Evan made a sound that was half-snort-half-laugh, shook her head and gestured at a grey Saddler, but he didn’t even have a chance to respond before she was shaking her head, the horse having begun to walk, showing that it was clearly lame in its right hind leg.

There was a long moment where she didn’t move or speak, and he looked over to see her green eyes scanning the herd, the various Saddlers and Standardbreds, chewing her lip. Finally, she perked up, looking at him and pointing at a stallion that stood off to the side, tail swishing as it watched the forest with a wary eye, and even he couldn’t find any fault in it—it was a handsome thing, buckskin with a long black mane, and he was sure it would gleam if given a good brush down. Muscles rippled beneath his pelt when he trotted along the treeline, no sign of lameness to be found.

If you were looking for a good wild horse, he was the best you were going to get. Better than a fair few captive bred horses, too.

He nodded, gave his enthusiastic approval, and she flashed a wide grin, crawled as cross as she could get to the tree line before moving up to her knees, then to her feet, staying in a low crouch, while he remained where he was for fear of startling the horses. She kissed her teeth as she approached the stallion, the horse prancing back, snorting in alarm. The rest of the herd screamed, rearing up before fleeing, the foals bolting after their mamas, but thankfully the stallion was either curious or intended on distracting the ‘threat’, as he stamped his hooves but remained where he stood.

Evan kissed her teeth, clicked her tongue and held her hands out in a ‘I mean no harm’ sort of way as she carefully approached the stallion—she did a lot of stupid things, a lot of dangerous things, a lot of stupid, dangerous things, but she didn’t care to die of a horse kick or horse bite. She was an outlaw through and through, and wanted to die the way of one—blown up or shot through, although she wasn’t so selfish as to only intend to die while outlawing, she was an outlaw and a trader and a moonshiner, too, so being shot or blown up while doing those things was alright, too.

The stallion snorted, threw his head back and reared, slamming his hooves into the ground, and danced back. She went still to let him settle, clicking her tongue and humming low in her throat, wishing she could speak but it wasn’t worth the pain, but those soothing words would have been nice, then. All she could do, though, was click and kiss her tongue and shush, approach as non-threateningly as was possible, though it didn’t quite come natural to her, until finally she was within touching distance. The buckskin was tense, and when she reached out, slowly, to pat his neck his skin twitched beneath her hand, but he allowed it.

“Shhh,” she hushed between her teeth, ‘See? We’re friends,’ feeling Lem’s eyes burning holes in her back and fighting the urge to preen and then, when the horse began to lean into the touch, she leaped up onto his back, fisting his mane in her hand and clenching her legs in tight in that sweet spot behind his shoulders, relaxing as he screamed and began to buck making his way through the larkspur flowers, hearing Lem whoop and holler and wishing she could do the same as adrenaline ran through her, she always loved breaking horses though it wasn’t a very good way of earning money.

She twisted with the horse, leaning right as it barreled left to keep from losing her balance, then left as it raced right, tightening her legs not to urge him on, although it served to, but to keep her perch when he nearly succeeded in throwing her over his head with a particularly harsh buck, and she didn’t much care to be trampled, twisting his coarse mane in her fist, mouth opening in a silent laugh as he leaped up, arching his back before coming down hard, racing in a circle as she shhh-shhh-ed him, feeling the stallion slowing beneath her, tiring himself out.

Finally, he dug in his hooves and skidded to a stop, hanging his head and gasping loudly, flanks heaving and soaked with sweat, and she leaned forward to pat his neck, kissing her teeth even as she nudged him forward in a walk, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t bolt once she was off his back. One, two, three circles she walked him in, before finally swinging off his back, stumbling as overworked legs hit the ground, looking for Lem and finding him not far away and waving him over, grabbing her lasso off her hip and wrapping it around the Standardbred’s neck into a makeshift sort of bridle.

“Th-that was incredible!” Lem gasped, out of breath as if he was the one who had broken the horse, and she grinned. She patted the buckskin on his sweaty neck, and presented his lead to the man, who stared at it as though he’d never seen a rope before. When he didn’t reach to take it, she waggled it, like she would a bone for Trigger, the dog she kept back at camp, and he looked from her, to the lead, to the horse, dawning realization crawling across his face in an almost comical way. “Is… is he for me?”

‘Well hallelujah.’ she nodded in a very exaggerated way, and shoved his lead into Lem’s hand, stepping back so that he either had to grab the lead or risk the buckskin being able to run off. He stared at it, then “I… I, thank you!” and giving her a beaming grin, leaning forward to pat him on the neck.

She shrugged, ‘It weren’t no thing,’ he needed a horse if he needed to be doing work, and she wouldn’t always be around to lend him Scheherazade or Douban, it had been nearly a year since they’d re-established Maggie’s moonshine business and he needed to start doing deliveries too, and to do that he needed a horse of his own. So why not? It was Christmas, after all, or at least the day before.

Evan whistled sharply, Sinbad trotting over with a nicker, while the stallion snorted, pricking his ears. After a moment, though, he decided the gelding was no danger, instead returning to eyeing her and Lem, prancing in place uneasily as she swung up into the Thoroughbred’s saddle, Lem doing the same and having to cling on as the Saddlebred crowhopped, swinging him around in circles until he obeyed. His eyes widened, and he hurried to pass her her hat, “I grabbed this for ya, it fell off,” and she looked at it, patting her dark hair and shaking her head when she found it bare, slapping the hat back on where it belonged.

To the man’s confusion, though, she didn’t turn them back towards the shack, but nudged Sinbad into a walk in the opposite direction. “Wait, where’re we goin’?” and she made a motion as though eating something small, and then—“Strawberry? What’re we goin’ there for?”

She looked at him as though she thought him some great fool, then pulled out her wallet from inside of her jacket, tapped her chest, pointed at him, then patted Sinbad’s saddle. It took him a long moment to connect the gestures, and then his eyebrows vanished into his hairline as he shook his head, “No, no! I can’t let you do that!” Tack, even the cheapest tack, would be ridiculously expensive, he couldn’t let her buy it for him.

The look Evan gave him, he was sure, was one many of her bounty targets had seen before she’d taken them down and they’d found themselves at a hanging tree, and was the look many men saw in their last moments. It was a look of ‘don’t try me’ and ‘I dare you to try me’ and he froze, nearly being thrown off as the Saddlebred surely felt his hesitation and tried his luck, only Evan grabbing the horse’s rope keeping him from ending up in the larkspurs. She pulled out her pocket watch, made a gesture with it as though passing a great deal of time, then pointed her finger at the sun and gestured as though making it set then rise again.

“I-thank you.” he finally acquiesced, and her grin was well worth it.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

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mcousland · 5 years

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2, 5, 9, 14 & 31 for the witcher ladies?

2. What is their pain tolerance? Do they close their eyes and block it out, or go into a full blown panic?

Only sort of pain tolerance Maeve has is for activities in the bedroom, not gonna lie. She gets a Little bit better over the years as she travels with witchers and gets into her fair share of scraps, but never to the point of getting rid of that instinct she has after getting hit to shout and bolt directly to the nearest, most capable person for help. (Still applies after she’s learned her archery skills, because if something got close enough to hit her in melee then she knows she’s Not going to be able to handle it and needs assistance.)

To Lysandra’s knowledge?? No idea what her pain tolerance is like, she’s never allowed anyone [or anything] to get close enough to injure her and thinks herself rather untouchable. As her creator?? I know this fool would be seriously spooked by how much getting hit hurts. She’s never felt that kind of pain in her life, on top of having the strength of None Existent, she’d be screwed and likely start panicking. Encase herself in ice and then try to portal out while yelling some very colorful curses.

Milena is,,, Babey. Don’t hit her, pls. She wouldn’t have much of a tolerance, even if she has gotten into a few fights and dealt with being hurt. She’s able to use her healing magic to quickly mend wounds and numb others over to power through quick encounters, but if she’s trying to endure anything longer than 5 minute fight she’s going to start showing some signs of panic (shaking hands, wide eyes, desperate scrambling to find cover and/or ways out).

5. What is their response to their friends or loved ones in pain?

Maeve’s go to is making certain someone Capable is on the way to assist them, and then she starts in with attempts to distract them from their pain. Telling dramatic stories, recounting dreadful jokes overheard in taverns, singing some tune that she knows is their favorite, sometimes just rambling on about everything and nothing. She doesn’t have a bit of medical knowledge outside of tying wounds off and Don’t Remove The Arrow, and doesn’t try to play at knowing more for everyone’s sake. Her goal is to keep them focused on her and maybe get a laugh or smile or two, as long as they aren’t thinking too hard on their pain then she’s succeeded.

In a fight Lysandra would turn her focus on whatever had harmed her friend/loved one and unleash hell on them before trying to assist them, knowing she’s more equipped in offensive magic than in healing. Is more likely to demand help from others for her loved one and protect them while they’re aided. She does have healing capabilities (after so long on her own, helping many injured folk in the mountains, she picked a little up) but they aren’t… Neat. She can stop the bleeding and sort of patch things together until they reach Actual medical help, but the wounds don’t heal over entirely and the skin around them are usually left with small icicles prickling.

Milena’s is fairly obvious, don’t really need to go wild with her. Her first instinct is always to dash to their side and drop as much healing magic as they need into them, which now that I think about it could cause… Problems. She wouldn’t even hesitate in how much magic she had to poor into someone to help them, and this could take a toll on her depending on how terrible the injuries are and she wouldn’t blink at it unless someone forced her away.

9. In a dire situation, are they fight, flight or freeze?

Maeve is a 50/50 between fight or flight. Sometimes her instincts to Defend Friends kicks in and she’s ready to throw down, especially against humans who try to start nonsense with her witcher companions, even if she’s not the best in a fight. But on the other hand, if she’s being told to run by her companion (or just Sees a terrifying creature) she has No issue bolting off for the nearest tree to scale and avoid danger.

Lysandra is Fight until the very end. Especially in that first decade after everything that happened with her family, when she’s stuck deep in her grief and lashing out at anything that she can.

Milena also fights, if a situation has gotten anywhere near bad enough to be deemed “dire”. Her usual play is to stick in the background of things, providing healing and shielding from a safe distance, but if it’s starting to look bad she has a trick or two kept up her sleeve and isn’t afraid to show them off.

14. What kind of image would they like to portray to their group? How does the group really see them, good and bad?

Maeve wants everyone to think that she has things figured out and that she’s holding it all together, filled with confidence that never falters and always ready with a quick quip or smile. For the most part, that is exactly what everyone sees! Until they reach a certain level of close with her, and then they can start noticing the little tells that give away her moments of hesitation and… Depth beneath the mask of flirtation and bravado.

After the events with her family Lysandra projects a cold and distant exterior, and for the most part that’s exactly what she wants. It keeps people a safe distance from her and saves her the trouble of getting attached to those she could lose. Even decades later when she has started to long for connection once more, she’s perfected that front and her ‘resting bitch face’ is off the charts. It’s incredibly difficult for anyone to see beyond it, really. (Though I do believe it’s a bit Easier for those who have gone through similar things as she had, as it’s all in her eyes and can be recognized by a kindred soul.)

Milena portrays exactly who she is, and it’s what everyone sees. A kind and extremely soft-hearted woman, empathy levels through the roof and constantly on the look out for the next person she can give her help to. Only thing she’d like to change is that she would just love for people to think she wasn’t as affected by their flirting as she truly is, but anyone can see through that because she’s so Terrible at hiding it.

31. What’s one skill or aspect of themselves that they feel self-conscious of?

Maeve is very self-conscious of her scars. She doesn’t even truly know why they get to her so much (especially years down the line when she has worked to hard on herself), but each time she sees on in a mirror or glances one while getting dressed it just,,, Gets to her. They’re hideous to her. Reminders of Carden and what he did to her, and of times she was attacked on her travels despite her best efforts to avoid conflict or needing her companion to protect her. Manifests in her trying to hide them behind layers of clothing, made very obvious when she’s still wearing long sleeves and low skirts even in a hot environment despite her current companion(s) commenting on it.

Lysandra is pretty embarrassed by how dreadful her people skills have gotten by the time she leaves her mountain pass home. She used to be charismatic and could keep up with the likes of Maeve in terms of charm and flirtation, but after so much time spent alone and in such a miserable state all of that skill has just Gone. She wants to put up that chilly front and keep people at a distance 4/5 times, but that 1 where she doesn’t is frustrating because she struggles to keep conversation with most folk now.

Not to be predictable with it but Milena is self-conscious of her Lack of skill in flirting. It feels like such a silly thing to be worried over, but she thinks it would help Immensely in dealing with her entire “turning the shade of a tomato after 2 minutes of someone giving her compliment after compliment after innuendo” deal. Not to mention, it’d be lovely to turn the tables on someone every once in a while.

#thalasians #thanks sophie!! ^.^#loved 9 because it was Too Fun to imagine scenarios for a few minutes lmao #maeve #lysandra #milena #back at it again with the zero proofreading who needs it

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