#jigsaws the one whos gonna be cleaning up the mess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluecookies02 · 4 years

Text

When they make you cry

pairings: Hawks x Reader, Dabi x Reader, Bakugou x Reader, Aizawa x Reader, Izuku x Reader, Tamaki x Reader

Tamaki, Bakugou and Hawks are in a female!reader perspective, the rest of them are Gender Neutral

warnings: angst to fluff

masterlist

Hawks will get cocky, laughing in your face when he sees your shocked expression.

Both of you were going at each others throats, spitting insults to one another, just your recent daily routine.

Now Hawks knew you were a tough gal, which in his head made it alright for him to strike a really painful nerve into your chest.

As you remained speechless he turned around, a winning smirk plastered on his lips.

Just as he took a few steps forward, sobs wrecked your body as you hid your face in your hands.

"I d-don't think I can take this anymore Keigo" your broken voice reached his ears.

A pang of guilt pierced his chest once he turned around to face you.

He did this. He made you cry. He completely drained your happiness out. He hurt you.

His teeth dug into his lip, his eyes stinging as tears picked at them.

At that point, he didn't give two shits about who's right and who's wrong, his arms reaching for you and wrapping themselves around your shaking form.

He held you there for a while, listening to your cries that gradually turned into soft sniffles against his chest.

"I-" He opens his mouth but his words remained stuck at his throat.

"I don't want us to end..." you mumbled, your own words throwing you into another sobbing fit.

"We won't end here kid, I've got you...shit...I'm a fucking idiot...of course we won't end sweetheart...c'mon look at me" he raised your chin up gently, looking into your red eyes.

"I'm sorry, fuck I'm sorry...not just for today, for every day before this, I-, God... don't leave kid, p-please"

You stared at his face, tears now streaming down his cheeks as his grip on you tightened.

You swallow the lump in your throat, grabbing his hands in yours.

"Something has to change Keigo...I miss you...we've been distant for months. Sometimes you don't even come home to me, do you know how that feels?"

"I know, I know, I swear... I miss you too. I'll tell you about everything I promise. Let's go home please."

You hesitantly nod, putting your heart on the line for the last time.

And now looking back, you're glad you did.

//quirk: flesh manipulation (the reader can manipulate the molecules in a person's flesh just by touching it, making them useful mid-battle to make the other heroes ready to fight again in a matter of seconds, but also making them a threat to their enemies )

If there was one thing he despised about you, it was your guts.

Hell curse him for falling in love with someone so stubborn.

To live through a relationship with Dabi meant that you had to have though skin. You had to be strong enough to bite your cheeks and endure the issues that people in regular relationships never face.

He enters your home, covered in bruises and cuts, asking for your first aid kit.

You sigh to yourself, your usual nagging and yelling never reaching his ears.

You place the first aid kit onto your bedside table, turning your back to him, tiredly walking out of the room.

"Hey-" his voice calls out to you, quiet and confused.

You close the door behind you, making your way to your couch.

One of these days it'll be the last time he walks into your home, the last time you help him clean his cuts and the last time you hear his voice.

The weight of uncertainty pulls at your chest harder with every passing day.

He chose to continue living like this, he is the one that keeps ruining his own life, it's his ambitions that are making you this miserable.

Once he patches himself up, he sits on your bed for a while. Your silance meaning one thing and one thing only. You finally realized how pointless being with him is, you finally got it through your thick skull that he's nothing special to dwell about.

Time passes by quickly, a few hours already gone yet he's still glued to the same spot, not having the strength to leave your room, too scared to face your rejection once he gets out.

He should be happy for you, you won't be hurting anymore, you'll be able to find someone better.

He slowly twists the knob, taking slow steps through your living room.

You are laying on your couch, tear stains on your face and a tissue crumbled in your hand.

His chest tightenes at the sight. You cried yourself to sleep. He wonders... how many times did you cry over him? How many times would you just lay here as he carelessly roamed the streets?

He should leave...he should spare you the pain he brings. You were the only good thing in his life and by continuing this he'll ruin you, piece by piece.

You showed nothing but kindness to him, you made him realize that some people are worth getting close to, you being a hero also making his resolves shake under his feet.

He stretched his arm out to your cheek, careful not to wake you up.

He left a soft kiss to your temple before leaving your house.

-----

You woke up to a persistent ring of your doorbell.

You felt terrible...your hair was a mess, your nose was all clogged up and your eyes burned from all the crying.

You opened your door with annoyance, mad at whoever decided to burst your sadness bubble.

"Hey doll, I would've let myself in but my hands are kinda busy"

Your boyfriend stood there with a backpack on his shoulder and a carton box in his hands.

"So...do you happen to have a room to spare for a year or two...maybe three?"

You stare in disbelief your hand covering your mouth.

"I know that me being a villain might be a setback but...I got some hair dye? I might even consider letting you fix my jigsaw face."

Your body crashed into his, the box dropping to the ground as you squeezed your arms around him.

Maybe he can make you as happy as you make him.

You knew he was rough around the edges, but you never even imagined that you would be the one his rage would be directed at.

As soon as insults came crashing your way you left the room.

You were just trying to calm him down, placing your hand on his shoulder as you urged him to stop shouting and just let it go.

His rough hands grabbed yours, throwing your hand away like you were a mere fly, his quirk burning your skin.

You tried calling out to him just for him to snap around and scream at you.

Once you reached your dorm tears freely rolled down your cheeks.

You yearned for a normal relationship, longed for some peace and quiet just for a week or two.

Yet you just couldn't let the blonde go, always hoping for some miracle to come your way and take ahold of his ego.

--------

It's around 2 am and he can't fall asleep for the hell of it.

You're not picking up his calls nor answering his texts and you've been inactive on social media for hours.

Kirishima has been urging him to go to your dorm for two hours already, spamming him massages about him not being manly enough to win you back.

It's not like he doesn't want to, he just has no idea how to. Should he get you something? Get you some food and flowers? Where the fuck can he find all these things at 2 am? Isn't that how people in movies apologize or something...

He hates when you're mad at him, he is scared shitless of actually scaring you off and pushing you away.

A knock at your door snaps you out of your thoughts and a small flame of hope warms your heart for a split second as you make your way to your door.

He's holding a gray hoodie and a pair of bento boxes.

"That's not gonna fix it Katsuki."

"I know shitty woman you didn't even give me a chance to speak!"

You're sure that that's the first time Bakugou said the word "sorry" in his whole life.

The way it rolled off his tongue was shaky but somewhat determined, his hand grabbing ahold of yours gently.

Guilt was evident on his face as he stroked the bandages covering your hands.

"It's not that bad Katsu, and I understand that it was an accident." you mumbled trying to pull from his grip so he can focus on something else.

He grabbed ahold of your wrists, bringing your palms to his lips.

"I'll work on it, I promise. It'll never happen again. I mean it." you just give a soft nod, leading him to the table.

"Good. Now let's eat, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" you cheered, opening the bentos and stuffing your mouth with rice.

"Y/N...it's 4 am."

"Exactly, now eat, you're not gonna let me eat all of this by myself?!"

For this man, it was close to impossible to make his s/o cry.

He cherishes the relationship he has with you, making you feel special every single day at a time.

So when he sees you crying, he's confused and alarmed.

He reaches for you, trying his best to give you the comfort he thinks you need.

When you push his hands away and scream at him...Oh boy...

He's terrified.

Did he do something? Did he forget your anniversary? Your birthday? Did he eat your snack from the fridge??

You're pulling at the strands of your hair, your head buried into your knees as you sob.

He looks around, eyes widening when he sees a photo of himself and some girl kissing on the screen of your phone.

He wasn't there? He has proof! He was in a meeting! All of his colleagues could confirm that, he just needs you to listen! Please listen to him.

He's talking...blabbering...begging for you to just look at him.

As soon as you look up for a split second, he's hugging you, smothering your face in kisses as you weakly try to push him away.

Finally he leans his forehead against yours, letting out a long sigh of relief when he realizes that you're not crying anymore.

"Please Shouta, please, if you even have any respect for me, don't lie to me." you mumble out coldly, turning your head from him.

"Y/N, I would never, ever do that to you! Never! I love you so much, please, you have to know that, you do know that!"

You're too stubborn, but he calls all of his colleges one by one, putting them on speaker for you, asking about the time of the meeting or details of the meeting and they all have the same answer.

So now, your throat is dry and there's a lump in your throat, guilt eating at you as you try to apologize.

He couldn't give two shits about any of that, all he has to know is that you're okay and that you're still his.

He's not letting you go for the rest of the day, you're wrapped under the blankets with him as he makes sure you never believe the bullshit you see online.

"Sweetheart if I ever cheat on you, that's the day I cut my own dick off and bleed to death."

It makes you giggle and then laugh hysterically and he's just looking at you with the biggest heart eyes 🥺

Izuku would never do anything to make you cry.

He pays attention to every single detail in your relationship and he especially pays attention to your feelings.

What he is really bad at, is taking care of himself.

He doesn't take in consideration how you feel when he comes home all stitched up and tired, or how he stays up late to train and push himself further than his body can take.

However one day, he is exhausted from his training and he barely has any strength left. His phone rings and he is rushing out the door, already panting.

You don't reach him in time to stop him, so here you are, hours later next to his hospital bed.

The villain wasn't too powerful, but his state caused him to pass out in the middle of the bettle field.

As soon as he wakes up, you're yelling at him, but at the same time sobbing against his chest.

"I can't just stand here and watch you hurt yourself Zuku... I can't, I can't, I can't....O-one of these days you're just gonna slip away from my hands, I can't. Please" You're grip on him softens as you loose the strength in your hands.

His arms wrap themselves around you, trying his best not to flinch as you rub against his bandages.

His eyes are watering, realization dawning on him as he holds your tired body against him.

You're right...He sees the state of himself after a lowlife villain with a pathetic quirk sent him into the hospital. He doesn't even want to think about what would've happened if there was someone much stronger out there.

"Hey Y/N...I-...I might take a week off, to rest yeah? Does that sound good?"

You nod, wiping away the tears as you sniffle.

"And you won't be training at night anymore. And you won't be staying up late!" you scold as he rubs your cheeks.

"I won't. I promise." he places a kiss at your temple, pulling you onto the hospital bed next to him.

"Let's sleep for a bit yeah? I might owe you a few hours..."

You're crying, he's crying.

He's down on one knee and he's stuttering, his hands shaking as he hears you cry out a happy "Yes".

He barely gets the ring on your finger, burying his head into your neck as soon as he gets to his feet.

You always thought that he was going to propose to you at home, maybe some homecooked dinner with roses and candles. You didn't mind that option either.

You were surprised that he even suggested a walk in the park.

I mean, it was a really small park with little to no people in the area but it was beautiful nonetheless.

You're all giddy and happy as he takes your hand in his, his eyes always glancing at the ring on your finger.

Once you spot an ice cream stand you leap in happiness, rushing to get ice cream for the both of you.

The lady selling it smiles brightly at you.

"Is that the lucky guy?" you nod grabbing your icecream as Tamaki hides behind you.

"Good job sweetheart, you're making this lady very happy, I can feel it in my old bones" you laugh at her remark as you nudge Tamaki forward.

She hands him his ice cream and winks at him.

He's blushing and thanking the lady before running off to an empty bench.

”He’s a lil’ shy but he's got the spirit” you say to the lady as you rush off to get him.

You take the time to really study the ring, the beautiful blue crystal shining in the sun.

”I...I hope you l-like it...Nejire helped me out. Uhm I probably shouldn't have said that...S-she-"

"I like it Tama...I love it actually" you place a gentle kiss just at the corner of his lips, his hands grabbing your cheeks and kissing you deeply in return.

His cheeks are warm and his lips are slow against yours but you melt against him, letting him place you in his lap.

"Oh my God, I have a fiancé, oh my God, I have to call Mirio and tell him you said yes. You said yes, right?"

You laugh as you shake your head at him, playing with his hair as he fumbles with his phone.

All of the pictures are from the original anime/manga (please do correct me if I'm wrong in the comments below)

The Tamaki one has no angst in it because I had to heal from all of the emotional rollercosters.

___________

requests:closed

commissions:open

Ko-Fi | Patreon

11K notes · View notes

wroetospotterwp · 3 years

Text

Potion Partners

Pairing ✨- Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary 💓: Y/N is a quiet girl that stays clear from trouble, but that becomes difficult once she has to partner up with Fred Weasley in Potions.

Word Count 🖊: 1,724

A/N 🗣: hello all!! this is my first ever imagine on tumblr and first i’ve ever written really, so this is quite different to what i’m used to! but i hope you all enjoy anyway!

Warnings ⚠️: this is just fluff so i think we should be good

Requested? 📮 - nope

Masterlist

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It had been the one class Y/N had been dreading all day: Potions. It wasn’t that she wasn’t any good at the subject, she just didn’t like how Professor Snape treated the students and favoured others.

Y/N was not one of those favoured, unfortunately.

As soon as she had finished Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, she raced to Potions, Snape couldn’t take housepoints from her if she arrived early. It took some time, but she finally arrived, only a few other students waiting outside the classroom. Clearly they had the same idea as her.

With a smile to her fellow classmates, she walked over to the stone wall and opened one of her books. Might as well spend the rest of time preparing for the class. It was quite peaceful, only the flames from the torches and quiet chatter from students were heard.

But of course, it didn’t stay quiet for long. A door behind Y/N swung open, slamming against the stone loudly. The noise completely startled the girl, dropping her books on the floor. Y/N quickly glanced up to see it was the Weasley twins that had just entered the corridor.

Fred and George Weasley. The class clowns of Hogwarts and two heartthrobs that the students of the school adored. Would Y/N be lying if she said she hadn’t fancied one of them? Completely. Fred Weasley had always a been a secret crush of hers since she first saw him, but who could blame her?

Unfortunately, girls like her didn’t stand chances with boys like him, and she had accepted that a long time ago.

Before the red head could catch her looking at him, she focused her attention back on the fact her books were completely sprawled along the stone floor. Y/N bent down and started to try and gather her books, lucky for her one of her fellow classmates started to help her pick them up.

“Thank you.” Y/N muttered before she stood back up and accepted the books from the classmate.

“No problem.” The voice accepted, Y/N looking up and seeing it was none other than Fred Weasley. Her eyes widened slightly, mentally kicking herself as she realised how strange she looked.

Y/N didn’t say anything, just gave a small smile and turned away from the tall Weasley. But he didn’t seem to be finished talking to her.

“That’s a lot of books you have there, Y/N.” Fred pointed out, which almost made Y/N’s heart leave her body. He knew her name?! She kept to herself and only had a few friends, nothing that would put herself out there enough for Fred to know her name.

“You know who I am?” Y/N quietly muttered, her cheeks starting to turn a bashful red. Oh how she was thankful that everyone else was focused on their own conversations to see what was happening.

Fred raised an eyebrow and let out a breathy laugh. “Course I do.” He replied, like it was just so obvious.

Fred Weasley had messed up here, he had only found out who Y/N was just a few months ago thanks to Angelina and Alicia. He was dragged to the library by his two friends and seen Y/N reading at the table herself. Immediately, he caught himself staring, how had he never noticed her before? She was beautiful.

He questioned his two friends and they informed him who Y/N was, but they didn’t know much about her themselves. Fred was desperate to find out more about the mystery girl, starting to try sit near her in classes and in the Grand Hall, hoping she didn’t think he was weird.

She didn’t notice most of these advances, and if she did, she avoided eye contact with him at all times, which he didn’t understand why, had he pulled a prank and she had fallen victim to it? He wasn’t sure.

Y/N didn’t have the chance to reply to Fred as the Potion’s classroom door opened, Professor Snape walking out and sternly looking at them all.

“Most of you will be unable to do this, but enter the classroom and stand by your desk.” Snape eyes fixated on Fred and George.” “Calmly”

Fred and George just smirked at their Professor as the rest of the class entered his classroom. Y/N smiled at Alicia Spinnet, who she shared a desk with, as they settled into the seats.

Snape didn’t seem to trust the Weasley Twins today, motioning them to get up from their seats as soon as they sat beside each other.

“I don’t believe that either of you can be trusted working with each other. So today you’ll be split up.” Snape informed them, Fred and George usually always worked together so most of the class were shocked at their Professor’s demand.

Snape had a very slight smile. “George with Miss Spinnet, Fred with Miss Y/L/N.” He requested them. Y/N couldn’t believe it, how was she going to work with Fred? Alicia got up from her seat and walked over to where George stayed seated, Fred getting up and walking over to where Y/N was seated.

“Alright?” He greeted as he sat down, Y/N nodding slightly, Godric how she hoped that it wouldn’t be this awkward the whole period.

Snape explained to them what potion they would have to produce today, Y/N writing down all the ingredients while Fred was busy balancing his quill on his forehead out of boredom.

“Do you want me to go collect the ingredients?” Y/N questioned, bringing back Fred into reality, who had just realised that the class had began to make the potion.

“I’ll go up.” Fred offered, getting up from his seat. “Are they all written down here?” Y/N nodded as she handed him the piece of parchment, her hand briefly brushing his, sending butterfly’s to her stomach.

Fred didn’t have a clue what half of these ingredients were, grabbing what he thought was each product and hoped for the best. He brought the stuff back over to Y/N, who raised a brow.

“Are you sure this is all the right stuff?” Y/N asked, scanning the stuff Fred had picked up.

“Of course.” Fred confidently replied. Y/N shrugged, picking up a bottle to start the potion when a hand went on top of hers. “I’ll do the potion, you can sit and relax.” He offered.

“Oh, Fred, it’s no problem.” Y/N gave a small smile. “Everyone else is working in partners, you don’t need to do everything.” She didn’t trust he knew what he was doing anyway, so she just hoped he let her help.

“I’m actually quite the potion’s master, Y/N.” Fred smirked as he began to add random ingredients to the caldron. That smirk kept the girl quiet, her face turning bright red and unable to respond.

Fred was surprised that Y/N was actually talking to him, and actually holding eye contact. He hoped for his sake that his random ingredients he picked up would benefit him and make the potion that was required.

But life would be too easy if that happened.

The potion exploded up in the air, barely missing both Fred and Y/N’s face. Fred let out a laugh at what just happened, not noticing the complete shock present on Y/N’s face. Her eyes looked to the front of the class to see Snape’s face.

Safe to say he was pissed off.

Snape gave them both detention, something Fred was used to and Y/N not so much. They stayed after class since it was the last period of the day and Snape demanded that they cleaned every caldron to be completely spotless.

Snape had left to go to speak to Professor Flitwick, so it was just Fred and Y/N, alone. For the first few minutes, it was silence. Y/N too busy scrubbing one of the cauldrons to notice that Fred had walked up beside her.

“You know, I’m quite happy we’re in detention together.” Fred smirked at her, Y/N thought he was having a joke around.

Y/N smiled at him. “Fred, you basically live in detention, why would this be any different?”

Fred faked offence to this. “You wound me woman, I actually have a life outside of detention.” He joked, Y/N letting out a laugh. “Seriously though, this had been my favourite one.”

“I’m glad my company has been fun.” Y/N giggled, starting to feel more confident around the red head.

“I’m just gonna go straight to the point.” Fred informed her, making Y/N stop cleaning the caldron for a moment. “Do you want to go to Hogsmeade together at the weekend? To the Three Broomsticks?”

Y/N raised a brow at the boy. “Are you asking me on a date?” She questioned, quite confused.

“That’s typically what a man does when he fancies a girl, yes.” Fred replied, Y/N didn’t trust him, this must be some sort of joke.

“Is this some sort of prank?” Y/N asked. “Make me think you’re interested and make a fool out of me for believing?”

“What kind of pranks do you think I do, Y/N?” Fred let out a laugh. “I’m sorry if I’ve pranked you in the past-“

“You’ve never pranked me, Fred.” Y/N interrupted. “I just didn’t think you liked me.”

“Lucky for you, I do.” Fred smirked, Y/N playfully rolling her eyes.

“So charming, Weasley.” Y/N beamed, she felt so much better about talking to him, she needed to tell him she felt the same way. “I’ve liked you…for a quite a while now.”

“No one can resist me so it’s understandable.” Fred joked, he couldn’t help himself, could he? Always making a joke about anything and everything.

Fred began to lean closer, eyes flickering from Y/N’s plump lips and her gorgeous eyes. Y/N leaned forward too, this would be her first kiss, she hoped it would go alright.

Their lips pressed together and it was like the both of them had been together for years, they fit together like jigsaw pieces. They were too busy in the moment with each other to notice the classroom door swing open, the Slytherin head entering.

Professor Snape never partnered Y/N and Fred ever again after what he seen.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

i ramble on so much and at the end i felt like i rushed it! i need to figure out how to write these because i’m not sure this was that good, but i tried! first imagine so go easy on me if this is bad!! i’m used to writing fics hahah

my requests are open btw! :)

taglist: @malfoysstilinski @drearyxo @just-a-bittersweet-tragedy @fizzleberries

#wroetospotterwp #fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter

209 notes · View notes

rainbepourin · 3 years

Text

Get to know me tag ✨💜💜

Thank you for tagging me my cute @palpalopaloma i loved doing this! It was so fun!!

I loved reading your answers too ^^

I'll tag @starlightindeepestnight @hey-itsmina @svgahigh @namjinlovebot @poweredbycreativityandcake @mean-sugar

Questions under the cut to make the post shorter

1. when is your birthday?

May 22nd 1993

2. what is your favorite color?

Black and beige.

3. what is your lucky number?

4. how tall are you?

about 1.75 m

5. how many pairs of shoes do you own?

no idea... about 10 probably

6. favorite song?

depends on the genre... wheel of time - blind guardin is a favourite. the jeweller’s hands - arctic monkeys is another favourite. Tomorrow - bts another favourite.

7. favorite movie?

LOTR , V for vendetta, Interstellar

8. what would be your ideal partner?

Someone i respect that loves me a lot.

9. do you want children?

Yeah, actually. (i’ve even thought up names xD)

10. have you gotten in trouble with the law?

11. what color socks are you wearing?

Black with a red rose on each one.

12. bath or shower?

Shower.

13. favorite kind of music?

it keeps changing. i’ve liked music in all genres.

14. how many pillows do you sleep on?

15. what position to you sleep in?

On my right side.

16. what don't you like when you're sleeping?

Light and noise. Has to be completely dark and mostly silent.

17. what do you eat for breakfast?

I don’t eat breakfast. i eat when i get home from work (~18:30-19:00) . Sometimes on the weekends i might have a pastry like a croissant or something.

18. have you ever tried archery?

Nope.

19. what are your favorite fruits?

Oranges, strawberries, pineapples.

20. favorite swear word?

μαλακιστηρι.

21. do you have any scars?

yeah... i have one on the side of my face cos the doctor that did my mom’s c-section cut my head too by accident xD

22. are you a good liar?

I don’t know. probably.

23. what is your personality type?

Don’t know. Lazy, avoidant and bitchy.

24. what is your favorite type of girl?

i relate most to women who don’t feel the need to come across as perfect sweet princesses all the time. women who will show their anger and their fear etc.

25. right or left handed?

Right.

26. favorite food?

my mom’s chicken soup.

27. are you clean or messy?

Clean but lazy.

28. favorite foreign food?

i haven’t had much foreign food. whenever we order asian food, i always get kappa maki. does that count? i haven’t tried anything else :(

29. how long does it take you to get ready?

If i’ve already decided what i’m gonna wear, i’m good in ten minutes. if i have to decide what to wear, i need an hour (because i check everything in the mirror and everything makes me look bad and i spiral into a crying fat shaming mess)

30. most used phrase?

καλα να ειμαστε.

31. are you a good singer?

i DO suck.

32. do you sing to yourself?

Literally every chance i get. i love singing. not one day goes by that i don’t spend a full hour at minimum just singing.

33. biggest fear?

If i talk about it, i will freak myself out.

34. do you like short or long hair?

Long.

35. are you into gossip?

I don’t do it myself, but i do love when other people bring the gossip TO me.

36. extrovert or introvert?

Introvert.

37. favorite school subject?

Geometry, algebra and biology.

38. what makes you nervous?

things that are, things that were and things that have not yet come to pass.

20. who was ur first real crush?

i had a crush on Johnny Depp before i even knew what a crush was supposed to be. i was a tiny baby and my parents were watching Sleepy Hollow and all i knew was that i wanted to keep looking at that one face.

Fun fact, i then forgot about it and watched POTC as a teenager and got a crush on Johnny Depp AGAIN without having any idea who he was. so I went through his filmography because i liked him as jack sparrow and i stumbled on Sleepy Hollow and i remembered him! i just. that was A Moment for me.

40. how many piercings do you have?

8, all on my ears.

41. how fast can you run?

Bold of you to assume i can run.

42. what makes you angry?

i agree with what @palpalopaloma said so i’ll leave it at that : “When people talk over me or they don't allow me to express myself, or when they assume things about me”

43. do you like your own name?

Not at all.

44. what are your weaknesses?

I’m lazy, stupid, unreliable.

45. what are your strengths?

I try to be fair.

46. what color is your bed spread?

Grey.

47. what color is your room?

White but there’s posters and jigsaw puzzles and drawings everywhere so you can barely see it.

10 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Stagnant (Taywhora) - pureCAMP

A/N - I keep wanting to write some fun diamond chaney stuff but rn I’m going through some shit so I have created angsty taywhora. You’re so welcome <3

Love isn’t supposed to taste sour. Love isn’t supposed to go off, like opened milk left in the fridge too long. When love breaks down, it should be explosive and intense, because logically, scientifically, all that energy has to go somewhere. Atoms, molecules, chemicals, matter can be created but not destroyed and all of that. It’s physics. All of that love, that energy, has to be channelled somewhere, so it should be channelled into a bright flame, severing any bonds as the energy dispels.

It shouldn’t just… be like this. Like a tiny hole in a balloon, slowly and silently deflating rather than the sudden, heart-stopping pop. Like that moment where you take the bottle of milk from the fridge, take a whiff, and sort of wrinkle your nose. Because it’s vaguely unpleasant, enough to know it’s a little off.

Love should be more than that. If it’s not, was it ever really there?

A’Whora wonders if she should start writing a diary, confiding in a journal, whatever. It’s not something she’s ever considered before, not with Tayce. She tells Tayce everything, every last pet peeve and irritation or deeply analysed personal flaw. There are no secrets between them, it’s honest and open and A’Whora has never felt more understood than she does with Tayce. Tayce feels like someone who she finally fits with, the jigsaw piece that slots in perfectly. Tayce is perfect.

Tayce hasn’t changed, but they have. Something is different now. Maybe another piece fell out of place, and the picture is incomplete now. If that’s the case, then why does their relationship feel like it’s taking the brunt of the loss?

They argue. No one would bat an eyelid at that; flirty banter is entirely their thing, insults delivered with a single raised eyebrow, gasped responses with faux high intonations, specific looks. But these arguments, this bickering… The flirtation, if it was ever there, certainly isn’t now. Sometimes Tayce does things, and A’Whora feels like little twigs are being snapped in her chest. She feels like she’s sitting in the fields trying to listen to a teacher while someone next to her won’t stop tearing up the grass and tossing it around. She feels like someone is endlessly clearing their throat and she can’t tune out.

But it’s Tayce. How can it feel like that when it’s her? A’Whora loves Tayce. She knows it.

She thinks it.

The beginning of the end starts with Tia. Tayce knows all about A’Whora’s opinions on Tia, starting with how insufferably annoying she’d found her, then morphing into the guilt of she’s a perfectly nice and funny person and I’m so shit to her and I feel so bad that I judged her like that and acted like a bitch when there was nothing wrong with her and then, finally, to the friendly toleration. They get along fine just now, and while they never really choose to hang out one on one, it doesn’t feel like a loss or a dig for either of them. They’re friends, and it’s good.

The girls are all out for brunch. Or, they started at brunch, and then blinked and it was 7pm, and the cocktails they’d shared at lunch started to sound a lot like hey we’re already out, we may as well go out out and now they were out out, nestled into a pub with an empty pitcher and too many glasses on the table in front of them. A’Whora can barely rest her elbows on the sticky wood without knocking a glass or two over, but they’re packed in like sardines and putting her arms down means brushing up against Tayce.

They’re dating, but for some reason touching her casually like that feels wrong. Not dangerously wrong, glaringly wrong, or evoking some kind of deep sulphuric hatred that burns holes through her stomach. Just… off, like touching the unprotected relics in an old church. You can, but it feels a little like you shouldn’t, even though nothing will happen if you do.

She keeps her elbows on the table. The stickiness bothers her, but not as much as the looks that Tayce sends her way when their arms accidentally touch. What does that look mean? Why is it so irritating?

Tia pulls focus, thankfully, grinning like she’s never grinned before in her life and digging through her purse. Veronica has her arm looped around her waist, sitting close enough that Lawrence and Ellie have room to sit beside them. It’s a good thing Bimini and Asttina are small, because A’Whora and Tayce are nowhere near as snuggled up as those two.

When she finally stops digging, Tia presents a hand like she’s a princess expecting a kiss, and everybody’s eyes are drawn to the ring adorning her finger. If she’s honest, it only caught A’Whora’s eye because Tia’s choice in jewellery is usually much flashier and cheaper than that, but she reasons that obviously Veronica chose it, and then the reality of what’s happening kicks in. Tia and Veronica are engaged. They’re getting married. Everyone, A’Whora and Tayce included, excitedly congratulates them. She’s genuinely happy for them, but she’s not genuinely happy. It doesn’t make much sense.

Maybe it’s the cocktail buzz, but A’Whora feels funny. She registers two sensations at once, managing them by way of urgency. First, she mumbles something about needing the bathroom and click-clacks her heels up the stairs into the women’s, finding it mercifully empty, or close enough. She picks the first available stall and awkwardly crouches over the bowl, trying to gag, waiting for it so she can finally feel better.

She pukes twice; some of it gets on the wall, but only a small amount. She holds her breath as she fumbles in her bag for tissues, cleans it up as best as she can, and steadies herself. Too much fucking sugar and fruit in those cocktails, she thinks. They taste amazing and feel terrible. Her stomach still feels horribly fragile, like it’s separating in the middle, but when a test heave brings up nothing, she decides a regular drink, non-alcoholic, will probably settle her.

Before leaving the bathroom (and after washing her hands), she opens up her phone and follows her second instinct, tapping on the screen until everything’s confirmed and then tucking it back in her bag and heading down the stairs. She won’t tell anyone she’s been sick, because that’s both embarrassing and would ruin the fun.

When she rejoins the table, Lawrence is halfway through a roaringly funny anecdote that involves burnt toast, Ellie being a disgusting whore, and possibly a ruined anniversary. Everyone is howling with laughter; Tia’s hanging off of Veronica, Ellie’s clutching her stomach, Bimini and Asttina have both thrown their heads backwards off their chairs in laughter, and Tayce is laughing so hard she’s completely silent, vibrating. A’Whora sits down and forces a chuckle just so she fits in, desperate to maintain at least one of her jigsaw puzzle pieces while she can. Tayce clasps a hand over her knee as she laughs, and the touch is not uncomfortable, but unwelcome. She gently moves her leg away from Tayce’s hand - Tayce stops laughing, looks at A’Whora, then looks away and resumes her laughter like it’s nothing. It was something, but for now it needs to be nothing.

It just solidifies the idea in A’Whora’s mind that she’s done the right thing.

The following morning, she suddenly remembers it. They’d both awoken a bit headachey, but otherwise fine, fresh as daisies even. Ellie keeps texting the groupchat about her wicked hangover, and as she says something about am literally desperate enough to try raw eggs at this point A’Whora mutes the chat, not wanting to get distracted.

Tayce is in the living room, not a stitch of makeup on, wearing a big t-shirt with Eeyore on it and a pair of grey shorts hidden somewhere underneath it. She’s absolutely beautiful, breath-taking, stunning. No one in the world is built like she is.

A’Whora wonders if it’ll ever be enough.

Steeling herself, she makes her way into the living room, briefly stopping in front of the hallway mirror. She looks a mess, hair in a gravity-defying bun, dark circles under her eyes, the remnants of last night’s lipstick still smudged on the inside of her lips. Does Tayce think she’s just as beautiful when she sees her like this? Is there still beauty in her ugliness?

“Morning, you,” She greets, injecting a cheerful note into her voice. Tayce nearly jumps out of her skin, but when she turns around she meets A’Whora’s eye, mercifully, with a smile that looks genuine.

“Hiya love,” Tayce replies, beckoning her to come and sit on the sofa next to her. “How you feeling after last night? Have you seen all of Ellie’s bitching?”

A’Whora sets herself down, leans into Tayce’s side, embracing the early morning closeness before it can evade them. Her head rests on her girlfriend’s shoulder, and neither of them move to rest it elsewhere, so it’s a good start.

“I don’t feel too bad, head’s a bit fucked though,” She admits.

Tayce laughs, causing her shoulders to bounce and wobbling A’Whora’s head. “Here, I think your head was fucked before a couple of cocktails, babe.”

She’s not wrong. A’Whora grants her a laugh which is only a little bit fake, and then sucks in a breath to start speaking. Unfortunately, Tayce beats her to it,

“And all this about our Ronnie proposing to Tia? You know, I was thinking about it all night but I didn’t wanna say anything and make it all about us, but what are they gonna do about the hen do? Like, a joint one, or two separate ones on different nights where all but one of us is out?”

It’s a very fair point, but it’s so far from important in A’Whora’s mind that she brushes it away. Dwelling on the success and excitement of another friend’s relationship is hardly going to ease the tempest waging war in whatever part of her body processes weird emotions that feel the need to migrate to her chest and stomach. She’s happy for them. Her feelings end there. It doesn’t need discussion.

She presses a kiss to Tayce’s shoulder, feigning nonchalance over the topic. “I don’t wanna talk about them, they have it all figured out and that’s boring. I, however, did something last night.”

Tayce raises an eyebrow and waits. A’Whora pulls up her phone, shows the screenshots of the booking confirmation.

“We’re going on holiday!”

A second passes. Then another. Then another. Silence.

Then, Tayce hunches her shoulders and A’Whora takes the cue to remove her head, to stop resting against her, to sit up and be serious. She sighs heavily, glancing at A’Whora’s phone again and then up at the ceiling, her enthusiasm about her friends and a night out stripped away immediately.

“A’Whora…” She hates when Tayce uses her name properly, it feels wrong now after getting used to so many nicknames and pet-names. “What- We’ve got work, we can’t just jet off on holiday whenever we want.”

Is this the first hole in the balloon, the start of the slow deflation, or is it one of many slowly letting out air, gaining speed with every interaction that goes the wrong way? Either way, there’s a sinking feeling in A’Whora that just won’t let up. She doesn’t even want to try - she considers cancelling the booking, giving up the tickets, apologising for such a stupid oversight. But no, she wants to try. Making an effort is important, and she doesn’t want to just sit back and let things sputter out like a dying fire. They will burn bright or not at all.

“I know I - I rushed it, a bit, and I’m sorry I didn’t think that far ahead. But I think this’ll be good! Just you and me, away from all the stress and chaos, some proper alone time.”

She feels like they’re never really alone. They’re not, when she thinks about it - friends always texting, TV always on, always aware of the presence and existence of other people when the whole world used to be just Tayce and A’Whora, A’Whora and Tayce, and everyone else was secondary. Her plan had been pretty bare bones, but a long drive through Middle America until they reach sunny California feels like it can fix things. They can reconnect properly on the long drive, fall in love with being in love again, and then bask in the sunshine and luxury of wherever in Cali takes their fancy when they make it there. Escaping to a place where just for a while, they’ll be the only ones… That sounds good. That sounds like what they need. The panacea of relationships, the reminder of what they were.

Tayce agrees to go.

“You know, I literally hate people and I can barely be alone with someone for ten minutes without getting pissed off but I honestly feel like I could sit here talking with you forever,” A’Whora admitted, blushing and laughing at Tayce’s expression. “No, really! We could go anywhere, where shall we go? Barry Island?”

Tayce snorted. “Oh fuck off with that, Lawrence’ll never let go of this bloody Gavin and Stacey thing she’s got going on if we go there. Anywhere but that.”

They collapsed into laughter, mindful of gear sticks and cupholders digging into their sides as they went limp. A’Whora feigned offense, wrinkling her nose and sticking out her bottom lip in a childish pout.

“I’m just annoyed that her joke means I’m the bloke of the relationship. Fucking Gavin, I mean he’s such a wet wipe.”

“I wonder if that would make Lawrence Nessa though?” Tayce pondered, gasping as genius struck her. “Oh my god, Rory, would that make Ellie Smithy?”

A’Whora was sure her stomach was going to fall out of her body with the force of her laughter, so sore she couldn’t do anything besides screeching and trying desperately to stop, to no avail. The car was parked up in a lay-by overlooking the sea, still with no destination in mind as of yet, but they were happy to observe the view as they munched their sandwiches, scrambled for a plan and tried to assign each of their friends a Gavin and Stacey character. (Bims was obviously Pam, if she was slightly more unhinged.)

Tayce wiped her eyes. “This is beastly. Alright, alright, where are we actually going then? Do we have any plan at all?”

A’Whora shrugged. “Drive til we find somewhere that looks nice?”

“Sounds good.” She leant over, the two of the meeting in the middle for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Happy six months, gorgeous.”

It’s not the same. Of course it’s not the same. Everything is different now, so why would this be the same?

America is big. Big enough that you can drive and drive and the landscape will stay the same, dusty and yellow with nothing else to see beyond the occasional sparse red rock. There is nothing for miles in any direction, and they are the only car on the road, just driving through endless space.

At first, she’d thought that the big open space would make it easier to run from their problems, the simplicity providing some clarity into why everything seemed to have shifted and allowing them space to fix it all. Instead, the emptiness was just exacerbating her own emptiness, a barren landscape horribly reminiscent of their lives at home.

They had been so colourful, once. When had the barren desolation crept in? Where had it all gone?

America is so big, and they are so small.

Some of these Middle America states are so similar that the line between them seems to just be an arbitrary thing, as the sign indicates they’re somewhere new while the landscape suggests they’re anything but. Tayce is driving, occasionally tapping her fingers on the wheel in tune to the music, which A’Whora pretends doesn’t annoy her. It used to be endearing, but hours of tap tap tap feels like some tame iteration of water torture. Then she feels ridiculous for such a dramatic comparison, and tries to count her blessings.

She’s in a beautiful country with a beautiful girl. She should be happy.

They both should.

“So we’re due in California in like two days of driving, yeah?” Tayce checks, still drumming away on the steering wheel. “Where are we staying tonight, then?”

A’Whora shrugs. “I just thought we’d find somewhere along the way, a motel or something.”

Apparently that’s the wrong thing to say. Tayce huffs.

“What, so we’re just driving aimlessly? You didn’t book anything?”

Her memory jolts back to their six month anniversary, almost forever ago now in the timeline of their relationship. She doesn’t know if Tayce remembers any details of that day, or just the fond memories that she clings onto as best as she can. Before she even says it, she’s knows it’s stupid, knows it won’t work, and is annoyed at herself before Tayce even can be. In fact, she knows it’ll start an argument. But what else is there to say?

At least their arguments have a bit of passion, a tiny spark. Nothing like the explosions, but maybe it’s a start. It’s better than letting their love sit stagnant and off until it slowly disintegrates.

“Drive til we find somewhere that looks nice?”

She thinks about sharing a kiss, feeling a sort of young happiness that melts away everything else in the world. She thinks about how lucky they felt.

“For fuck’s sake, A’Whora. I thought you would’ve at least planned something for your little impromptu holiday,” Tayce snaps, turning off the music. Thank God - no more tapping.

“My impromptu holiday? This is about us, Tayce, which apparently you’re too blind to see. I did this so we could spend some time together alone and actually start getting on.”

“Start getting on? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh my god, okay, it’s all in my head then and I’m the bad guy. I just mean that we’ve been bickering a lot and I thought that getting away from home would help us recalibrate and get back to normal, Christ.”

“This isn’t a coming of age film, you can’t just jet off to fix things. We’re fine, but this is a bit of a piss take because there’s nothing literally anywhere and we have no idea when the next place to stop will even be. Can you at least look on your phone for somewhere instead of making this into a fight?”

“I’m not making it into- fine, yeah, I’ll look. There’s no signal, though, we might need to get further towards a town before we can look something up.”

“Fuck me. This is so relaxing, I’m so glad I booked a week off to do this.”

“I was trying to do something nice, you don’t need to be like that.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Let’s just - I’ll put the music back on, we’ll keep going.”

They drive in silence.

Four hours later, there’s a motel. It’s a single isolated building in the middle of the emptiness, with neon signs that buzz and hum with electricity and flicker on and off. There’s only three other cars in the car park besides theirs, all aggressively American looking, but it’s dark and they’re both too tired to care. It looks like the kind of place that a murder is definitely going to take place, probably tonight, but Tayce stacks up the chairs in front of the door in case the lock fails and flops down onto the bed, exhausted.

“This is fucking delightful.” She comments dryly. “I guess it’s an authentic American road trip experience, though, so I’ll give you credits for that.”

Her tone is unnecessary - A’Whora prickles. “Oh wow, thank you so much for all the credit you’re giving me. I feel so inspired to do nice things for our relationship again now.”

It happens again. Arguments, none of them screaming matches, no blinding fury and passion, no explosive fights and hateful sex and the feeling of losing it all, so throwing everything in at once to stoke the flames. It’s just another small thing, again and again and again.

They’re fighting and there’s just no reason for it whatsoever. No one has done anything wrong. No one has said anything wrong. They love each other, desperately, and they’re fighting.

Eventually A’Whora realises what they’re doing, and it hurts somewhere deep and cavernous in her chest. Their love won’t end in explosions and flames and hysterics and tears, but they’re still arguing and bickering for a reason, just not the one she thought.

If love is supposed to be so big, all grand gestures and bleeding heart fights, then what are they? Were they ever in love?

It doesn’t matter. The truth is, they’re just breaking something because they don’t know how to fix it.

There’s no fixing this.

They don’t make it to California.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk2 #purecamp #taywhora #tayce #a'whora #breakup #angst #lesbian au #stagnant

18 notes · View notes

the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

Push and Pull (Part 20)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, angst

------

Something roused Daphne from her sleep the next morning but she wasn't sure what. Her head felt like it was imploding in on itself and she winced when she opened her eyes. She was vaguely aware of a heavy weight over her middle as she lay on her side facing the wall. As her senses tried to gain their equilibrium, her ears picked up on frantic banging at her door. She heard a pained groan at the noise that was attached to the arm around her.

"Daphne! Open the damn door!" It was Foggy and he sounded like he was having a meltdown. She slipped out from the arm, swiping some panties from her drawer and putting them on quickly. The banging was making her head hurt like a bitch and Foggy's panic had her putting on the t-shirt she’d previously stolen from Matt since it was big on her and long enough to cover her ass. She padded over to the door, grimacing at how the noise got louder.

She swung the door open and Foggy almost knocked her off her feet as he rushed inside.

"Matt’s missing. He didn't go home last night and he didn't turn up for work. I can't get a hold of him! He- he could be bleeding out in an alley or something! We need to find him!" He panicked with wild eyes. Her brain felt like it was working through molasses and she blinked at him with bleary eyes.

"Didn't you hear me?! He could be dying!" He screeched.

"I'm fine," Foggy whipped his head over to the bed, confusion and shock on his face for a moment as his eyes landed on Matt. He was sat up now, sheets pooling around his waist as he rubbed his tired eyes. His hair was sticking up in every direction.

"W-what? Oh! Well I guess you two made up then," Foggy quipped, sounding much calmer than moments before.

"It's too early for this shit," Daphne grumbled tiredly, pushing past him to get to the kitchen. She got started on making a pot of coffee. Her eyes seemed to be in a permanent squint at the light that felt like razors to her brain.

"Not that I'm gonna complain about you two fixing things, but you couldn't have let me know? A phone call? Anything?" Foggy grouched at Matt who sighed in response.

"I was a little busy," Matt said dryly. Foggy nodded, cheeks a little pink as he glanced from Matt to Daphne and the tequila bottle on the coffee table before landing back on Matt again.

"Can I get some privacy?" Matt asked wryly, gesturing to his naked body. Foggy scoffed and threw the backpack he was carrying at him. Naturally, Matt caught it no problem.

"Clothes?" Matt questioned softly. Daphne glanced over at him briefly before grabbing two cups out of the cupboard. Her brain still wasn't functioning yet.

"Yeah well… I wasn't sure if I'd find you bleeding out or something and I figured it's a little less weird to take you to the hospital in normal people clothes," Foggy replied as he turned his back so he wasn't watching. He still sounded a little salty over the whole thing.

"Well I was fine," Matt muttered, standing up and getting his clothes on. Daphne may have peeked at him. It seemed like Foggy had picked black sweats and a t-shirt for him to wear.

"Alright, I get it. But this is… this is nice. Like old times right? You two having some crazy make up sex," Foggy started. Daphne shot him a glare as she poured out two cups of coffee.

"I swear, if you make this weirder than it needs to be, I will stab you in the face," she threatened, narrowed eyes and a scratchy voice. Matt chuckled as he waltzed into the kitchen and Foggy looked offended.

"Wow. Note to self, Daphne is mean with a hangover," he huffed.

"She's mean all the time," Matt quipped without missing a beat. She squinted at him, handing him a cup of coffee for him to sort out with sugar and creamer or whatever he wanted in it. Her hospitality ended at making the coffee and pouring it. He took it with a grateful nod and small smile.

She flung three sugars into her own coffee and a generous amount of creamer.

"I don't get a coffee? Now I'm just hurt," Foggy muttered in contempt.

"Are you hungover?" She asked with a quirked brow.

"A little!" He pouted. She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the smile on her face at his antics. Grabbing a cup, she poured him a cup and gave it to him. She walked over to sit on the sofa as the boys sorted their coffees out. Before long, Foggy flopped into the armchair and Matt sat next to her on the couch.

"Sooo…" Foggy started, finger tapping on the mug he was holding.

"Foggy," Matt warned carefully, glancing in his direction.

"What? You really expect me to not want to talk about it? It's me," Foggy snorted.

"We had sex. It was great. Story time over," Daphne muttered, blowing on her coffee to try and cool it down faster. She really didn't want to have this conversation. It would have been weird waking up with Matt in her bed and dealing with that but of course Foggy had to come over to just sprinkle more awkwardness into the mix.

"You hear that, Matt? It was great," Foggy grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. Matt smirked, trying to hide it as he took a small sip of his coffee.

"I can share with the group what Karen says sex with you is like if you want?" Daphne asked with a devilish grin. Foggy's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed, mouth opening and shutting. Matt laughed, glancing to his side at her.

"I'm actually curious what she says," he probed, continuing their teasing.

"No! No, no, no! We don't need to go there! I'll shut up, I promise," Foggy squeaked. Daphne smirked triumphantly and slurped some of her coffee. Karen hadn’t even spoken to her about sex with Foggy, she hadn't even been sure it had happened until now.

They drank their coffees with some comfortable silence. There was only a twinge of awkwardness in the air. Matt and Foggy ended up talking about a case they were currently working on as she nursed her hangover with a coffee. Once the cups were empty, she was mildly surprised when Matt stood, gathering the cups and moving over the sink to wash them. Her green eyes scanned her apartment and she pouted at herself. She’d made such a mess the night before in her drunken state and she hated it.

"Alright, as much as I'd love to spend time with you two assholes, I need to clean this place before I rip my hair out," she muttered as she stood up.

"You did make quite a mess," Foggy grinned teasingly. She flipped him off and leaned against the kitchen counter as he stood. Matt used the backpack to store his suit and mask, only just making it fit. She was hopeful that they'd leave without incident but she almost forgot Foggy was Foggy.

"You know what, we should go on another double date. Karen would love it," Foggy mused as he and Matt walked to the door. She blinked at him unimpressed as Matt thwacked him across the head.

"Stop," Matt huffed, shoving him closer to the door. Foggy grumbled under his breath as he opened it.

"I'm not sure I wanna be Captain of this ship anymore if you both bully me like this," he grouched.

"Out!" She said firmly, pointing to the door. Foggy smirked, holding his hands up in surrender as he slipped out the door. Matt glanced her way as she padded over. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but settled on just nodding. She was grateful. She wasn't sure what he would have said.

She watched as Matt took Foggy's arm in case anyone saw him and she shut the door as they walked down the hall. Breathing a sigh of relief, she set to work cleaning up the place. A tidy apartment and a few cups of coffee later, she found herself soaking in the bath and relaxing. She didn't have anything to do that day so she took the time for some TLC. She couldn't do anything with the Grimes case until the ball later that week and there was no new news on the Italians from Brett. There wasn't even any progress with the Keiran situation because his mouth was still wired shut and he wasn't in great condition. It was a rare moment of calm for her.

As she relaxed in the tub, her hangover started to wane and she found her thoughts straying to the night before no matter how hard she tried to fight it. It had been wildly different to her previous times with the vigilante. Usually they skipped foreplay, just getting right to the rough and dirty stuff and that was that. They'd got what they wanted. But the night before was a whole world away from that with all the intimate touching and how they took their time. She couldn't remember everything but she kept getting bits and pieces of it as it clicked together like a jigsaw puzzle. She remembered how excited she was to see him, how she told him she'd missed him. She remembered how her stomach fluttered when he used his fingers to ‘see’ her face properly. She remembered how it was the best sex she'd ever had. But it was all so intimate. She hated herself for it. Never had she been that way with someone before but she'd been drunk and so had he. She’d let her guard down fully with him. She was annoyed at herself for not letting him leave when she should have.

She didn't so much regret it, since there was no way she could regret the way he made her body feel. But she felt weird about the vulnerability of it all. How it made her feel. She was just glad he didn't make a big deal out of it like last time. She’d told herself she wouldn't fuck him again, no matter how good it was, because it seemed to make things messier. But her plan had failed and now she just had to hope they would move past it. Yet she still found her mind drifting to the way he touched her, like she was made of gold, and it made her stomach feel weird.

---

The week seemed to fly by and although Foggy came to see her most days with coffee and food, she hadn't seen or heard from Matt. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. It was only two days away from the ball now and Mrs Grimes had called her to tell her that she was on the guest list. She also sounded very disappointed she didn't have a plus one but thankfully didn't press it. Now she knew the plan was definitely on, she needed to go and get a dress. That's what led her to walking to the firm. She needed Karen. Karen knew about the ball and she needed a woman's eye. Foggy had slipped up once when he came to see her and told her he'd told Karen about the plan. After getting an earful from Daphne, he replied with how she specifically said not to tell Matt, which he hadn't, so he didn't do anything wrong. She couldn't argue with that logic and she didn't really blame him for telling her. It made it easier for her anyway since now she needed Karen's help to pick a dress.

She hadn't called her to ask, she figured she'd just go find her. She was dreading going shopping, it wasn't something she ever enjoyed. And this was in an upper-class part of New York and she knew she didn't belong there. When she got to the firm, she could hear raised voices coming from inside. She lingered at the closed door, her curiosity burning and stopping her from making herself known.

"We need to tell her, Matt!" Foggy yelled. She didn't think she'd ever heard Foggy be genuinely angry before and she raised her brows a little.

"No! Telling her is only going to put a target on her back!" Matt retorted hotly.

"She has a target on her back either way, and I can’t keep lying to her! She's my girlfriend now, Matt. It's not fair!"

"It's not your secret to tell!"

"No, just one you're forcing me to keep!"

It was painful listening to them argue if she was honest. Like being a little kid and hearing your mom and dad fighting about getting a divorce. She didn't like it. She opened the door and the pair turned to her in surprise from where they stood in the waiting area of the firm. She guessed Matt hadn't known she was there in the heat of the moment.

"Pro tip, you won't need to worry about it if you keep yelling like that. I could hear everything and it could have been just as easily Karen at the door," she said blandly, giving them a stern look like she was telling off children.

She closed the door behind her and walked into the room with a sigh.

"Tell him, Daphne. He needs to tell Karen the truth," Foggy pleaded.

"I think Daphne would agree with me on this," Matt bit out.

"Hey! Whoa! I'm not getting in the middle of this," she muttered with her hands raised. They started arguing again and she couldn't even make out what was being said in all the noise.

"Shut up!" She bellowed. Deathly silence took over the room as they both looked her way.

"Sit the fuck down. Both of you," she ordered hotly. She expected them to argue as they went back to glaring at each other for a moment, or as much of a glare a blind man could give, but then they reluctantly sat down.

She stomped over to the desk, turning around and perching herself on the edge of it.

"What exactly do you think will happen when Karen finds out the truth, Foggy? You think she's just gonna be like 'okay' and move on? She's gonna be pissed. She's not gonna see it as you guys trying to keep her safe. All she's gonna feel is the betrayal of the lies. There's a big chance she won't talk to you both for a while. She believes in Daredevil, she'll come around once it wears off. But that initial sting is gonna cause some shit, so I hope you're ready for that," she explained seriously. He looked torn up and glanced at his hands in his lap at her words.

She turned to Matt then who was sitting with his mouth set in a grim line.

"I get why you kept it from her, and eventually she will too. But the longer you keep this from her the worse it'll be. I know it's not something to take lightly. Once you tell her, you can't go back. But there's gonna be a line you cross where she won't be so understanding about lying if you keep it from her for too long. And it would be better if she hears it from you instead of finding it out some other way," she muttered.

"That didn't help at all. You're saying if we tell her she'll be pissed but that we should tell her?" Foggy frowned.

"I'm saying you both need to grow up and deal with this like adults. Talk it out and work a compromise. Karen deserves to know the truth but you need to do it right and make sure Matt's ready for it," she glared.

"Matt's never gonna be ready for it! I'm not just gonna sit here and keep this secret, I didn't sign up for this! And I'm not gonna sit here and take advice from an emotional mess like you!" Foggy yelled at her. She felt a punch to the gut at his words, genuinely shocked by his hostility towards her.

"Hey! Don't talk to her like that," Matt warned, his jaw tense.

"Oh right. I forgot it's only okay if you do it," Foggy sneered cruelly at him. Matt stood up looking ready to take a swing at him. Daphne felt her anger go from simmering to boiling and she slipped off the desk and stepped closer to Foggy.

"You know what, Foggy? Fuck you. I get you wanna tell her, that you don't like lying, but it's not black and white here. And you did sign up for this. You told me about what happened when you found out the truth yourself. You chose to come back, to be the best friend again. You chose to stick around, so you don't get to sit there and throw it back in his face when you feel like it! You don't forgive someone just to dangle it over their head later! That’s called being a shitty fucking friend! You're either in or you're out with this, there is no in between! So maybe you should pick a damn side and get your head out of your ass instead of blaming Matt when you chose to be here!" She roared. Foggy looked genuinely taken aback by her ferocity but she didn't stick around to hear him be an asshole.

She pushed passed him roughly, storming out and slamming the door behind her so hard she heard it rattle. She was fuming as she stalked down the street. She wasn't exactly Matt's biggest fan and she loved Foggy, she really did. But she wasn't going to sugar coat shit with him when he was playing victim. Foggy had decided to stick around and it rubbed her the wrong way how he was acting with this. Like he couldn't grasp how much of a life changing big deal it was for his best friend. She told him how it was and it was up to him to decide what to do with her words. She honestly expected better from her friend. He’d really hurt her with his words and she wouldn't have expected that from him of all people. It was uncalled for.

After wandering the streets to calm down, she got out her phone to call Karen. She hadn't been around and she hadn't gotten the chance to ask where to find her. And as awkward as it might be after the argument she'd just had, she still liked Karen and needed her help. Mrs Grimes had told her the dresses might need some alterations so she didn't have time to waste since the ball was two days away. After a few rings, she picked up.

"Daphne, hey!" It sounded like she smiled down the phone.

"Hey! Are you busy?" She asked, shaking the shitshow she'd just been involved in away from her. She didn't have time for their drama.

"I was just dropping something off at the Bulletin and then heading back to the firm," she explained.

"Could I steal you for a bit? I need help with the whole ball gown debacle and I could really use your advice," she asked hesitantly.

"Sure! It sounds like fun. I'm almost done here if you wanna meet me?" It didn't sound like fun but she didn't correct her.

"Alright, I'll be there soon," she hung up after and made her way to the Bulletin.

Before long, the pair were standing outside of La Grande Vie and Daphne was filled with dread. The people milling around inside the store were all well dressed and although Karen somewhat blended in with her formal wear, Daphne stuck out like a sore thumb in her boots, jeans, plain tee and hoodie. Her purple hair in a messy high pony. She blinked up at the sign for a moment, wondering if it was too late to just tuck tail and run.

"Fuck. I feel like I'm in Pretty Woman or something," she grumbled miserably.

"Something you're not telling me?" Karen smirked. Daphne snorted and shook her head, biting back a whine as Karen grabbed her hand and all but dragged her in the store.

An older man in a silk, pink patterned shirt came up to greet them with a warm smile.

"Hello, welcome to La Grande Vie, my name is Louis. How can we help today?" He asked with a French accent. He seemed genuinely nice but Daphne didn't miss the curious glances he kept sending her way.

"Uh… Mrs Grimes sent me… for the ball gown?" She phrased it like a question, like she was unsure if she should even be here. His eyes lit up as he clapped, looking overjoyed.

"Of course! Ms Weaver, welcome, welcome! And who is your lovely friend?" He asked with a smile, looking at Karen who blushed slightly.

"I'm Karen. Moral support," she smiled shyly. The man laughed a little, no doubt in understanding. It didn't take a genius to figure out this was Daphne's first rodeo.

"Please follow me, we will select some dresses we think suitable, but you will get to decide which you like most," he said as he ushered them to the back of the store. There were some thick black curtains and he walked through them, the girls in tow, to reveal some kind of private back area. There were plush looking seats and a changing area behind another curtain. It was all so fancy. Louis gestured for Karen to sit which she did but then he stood in front of Daphne, seemingly examining her from head to toe. She felt her cheeks flame red at the scrutiny and Karen shot her a wry smirk.

"I have some dresses in mind to go with your beautiful complexion and fun hair. You are a wild one, yes?" He asked with a knowing grin. Daphne snorted, lowering her head.

"She most definitely is," Karen piped up amused. Louis rushed off acting as if Christmas had come early for him. Daphne moved to sit and wait with Karen. Just as she was about to remark on how out of place she felt, a beautiful woman walked over with a tray, champagne flutes resting atop of it.

"Drink, ladies?" She asked with a polite smile.

"Thank you," Karen said and the pair took one each. Daphne's was gone in seconds.

"Okay! Let's begin!" Louis beamed as he walked back in, clapping his hands. There were a few girls, all as equally beautiful as the last, following him with dresses. She felt like a troll next to them. The ladies ushered her in the very roomy changing area, closing the curtain behind them.

"Are you ready for a fashion show, Ms Karen?" She heard Louis ask from the other side of the curtain.

"I am," Karen giggled in response. Her friend was having far too much fun with this.

Daphne wasn't sure what she hated more. Shopping in general or dresses. But by the time the girls were getting her into her 6th dress, she was ready to give up. All of the dresses had been beautiful but she was under no illusion that any would suit her or that she'd like them. But she didn't have to like them, they just had to be lavish enough for her to blend in at the fancy ass ball. But Karen and Louis seemed to have other ideas and had no issues with telling her no when they didn't think one hit the mark.

One of the girls zipped the dress up for her and she glanced at herself in the mirror. This one she liked the most. It was simple yet at the same time ridiculously pretty. It was a rich black colour, a velvety texture that was soft to touch. It had small off the shoulder sleeves with a v cut out the middle to create a harsh, deep sweetheart neckline. It clung to her body tightly, dipping into her small waist before flaring out dramatically in princess-y style. It was hard to picture the full look though with her hair and make-up done.

The girls helped her into the simple black wedges. She'd been firm on the fact she couldn't walk in normal heels and Louis had picked these for her. The curtain was pulled back in the same dramatic flourish as the last billion times, but instead of Karen and Louis giving her a scrutinising gaze, Karen looked pleasantly shocked, covering her mouth and Louis stood up beaming.

"This is it! This is the dress, is it not?" He glanced at Karen to back him up and she nodded.

"Wow… Daphne, this is just… this is the dress," she murmured in awe. Daphne blushed, shifting on her feet. This day had been weird from start to finish and it wasn't even over yet. It felt weird to be looked at so closely by anyone and the spotlight was firmly on her.

"Alright. I'll take this one then," she smiled with a shrug. She'd been waiting to say that with all of them but she did feel a pang of reassurance at their reactions this time around.

Louis ended up taking measurements from her so he could alter anything needed and said the dress and shoes would be sent to her apartment the next day. After Louis' dramatic but endearing goodbyes, the pair finally left the store and Daphne could finally breathe.

"Glad that's over," she snorted, the pair walking arm in arm. They'd been in there so long that it had started to go dark.

"It wasn't so bad," Karen smiled at her.

"Easy for you to say. You were spectating," she muttered with a playful glare.

"The dress really is something though. You'll be the belle of the ball," she teased, getting an eye roll from Daphne.

They both said their goodbyes with Karen saying she would come over the next day to do her hair for her and help her get ready. Daphne was grateful for the support. They ended up getting in separate cabs to head in their different directions. Daphne's was home. Today had really taken it out of her and she needed to rest up for the impending doom of the ball. Once again, after sleeping with Matt, her nightmares had gone. She knew they'd turn up again eventually but she was enjoying actually being able to sleep while it lasted. Once home, she got ready for bed and snuggled under her blankets with a sigh.

She kept thinking of the fight with Foggy and Matt and it made her feel sad. She hated that they were fighting, it was so weird. They were best friends, Nelson and Murdock. They shouldn't be acting this way with each other. And she couldn't deny that she was hurt with how Foggy acted with her. She said she didn't want to get involved but they'd dragged her into it anyway. All she did was tell the truth and he'd been an asshole to her. Something she expected from his counterpart, not him. Matt hadn't snapped at her, he'd even got mad at Foggy when he was a dick to her. They seemed to have swapped roles and she didn't like it. She had no idea what Foggy would choose to do and it made her nervous for Matt. No one really knew just what the consequences would be of telling Karen and it was a big deal. She didn't know what would happen to their friendship if Foggy went through with it or if he'd even stick around anymore.

She frowned as she lay there. There was a reason why she didn't make friends or connections and this was it. She felt like there was always some drama or something to stress about in her personal life. Yet she couldn't remember what it was like when she was alone and she was sure she wouldn't want to go back. That's why she was so worried. Depending on what Foggy chose to do, her life would become very different and she'd only just gotten used to it how it was now. She fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion with her mind spinning from uncertainty.

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil x oc #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil

16 notes · View notes

thanksjro · 4 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #18- Rung Psychologically Tortures a Man with Poor Snack Management

So, Swerve’s having a less than stellar day, and for once it isn’t linked to his deep-rooted sense of self-loathing.

Good thing he already emptied those stills, otherwise this would be just the hugest mess.

Thanks to some off-panel Whirl shenanigans that took place prior to this storyline, Swerve had Brainstorm put in a few security measures. Of course, Brainstorm being Brainstorm, never does weaponry in any half-measures.

Still, it isn’t quite enough. Looks like Swerve’s going to have to break out the big guns for this guy.

There’s a lot going on here, so let’s break it down.

On the character side of things, it would appear that Swerve is a merciful god of robot booze, as he’s not yet banned anyone from his small business, even when he probably ought to- Fort Max I get, and Whirl has the whole “is also an Autobot” thing going on, but Cyclonus has actively attempted to murder Swerve in the past, and also is the closest thing to a Decepticon they’ve got on the ship at any given time.

On the weaponry side of things, it would seem that Swerve having blown his face clean off his skull back in issue #12 got back to Brainstorm, who- because he’s married to his career and loves a project- immediately got to work on a gun that Swerve could actually handle with his funky little cartoon-man hands. Of course, that doesn’t mean Swerve’s going to get away with his dignity intact, oh heavens no! This thing has a literal smiley face slapped on the front of it. Well, you know what they say: it’s Nerf or Nothing.

Swerve blasts a hole in the Legislator with his silly, silly gun, and the bar is saved from further destruction.

I like to imagine that Brainstorm recorded that victory line himself, because he wants to support his friends, in his own, bizarre way.

Things are looking rough for the rest of the Lost Light, as the Legislators have completely flooded the ship with their forces, as the crew do their best to fight them off. Blaster’s had his titty compartment blasted open. Huffer is screaming. The medics have taken to violence. Skids has broken out the brass knuckles and is making god-awful math puns. The Legislators are still coming, without any end in sight. It’s a real shitshow.

Over on Luna 1, it would appear that Ratchet immediately passed out after seeing Pharma, which is a fair response to seeing someone who’s supposed to be very much dead, I think. Pharma calls Lockdown, they have a bit of banter, and then the scene moves on to whatever Cyclonus and Whirl are doing.

Because these two are the only ones on the away team who can actually fly, they’ve broken off from the rest. Whirl’s getting antsy, and decides he’s gonna fight something. Cyclonus, though he does mention that Rodimus told them not to do exactly what Whirl is suggesting, seems to agree with this line of thought.

Speaking of Rodimus, him and the rest of the gang are zipping around on those M.A.R.B.s, though it appears as if some of the passengers have switched drivers. Rung’s over with Chromedome now, holding on to him for dear life. Maybe they’re having an impromptu grief counseling session as they run from danger. Tailgate’s with Rodimus, and he’s just pointed out that Ratchet got left behind. Rodimus can’t deal with that right now, though, and decides that they need to get away from all these gotdang Decepticons and then figure out their next step.

Then he’s distracted by the literal lineup of dead Titans just hanging out on the moon.

Luna 1’s kinda fucked up.

Cutting back to our framing device- nope, still haven’t gotten caught up with the present yet- Ambus asks what Rodimus did next. Well, a lot happened. A lot. Chromedome jumped out of his therapy session with Rung and transforms into his alt, which I want to say is the only time he’ll do it in MTMTE. Whirl and Cyclonus are faffing about in the sky, more or less toying with the Decepticons following them. Rodimus wants to pull another Fantastic Voyage, much to Tailgate’s horror.

Rodimus zooms into the first crack he sees, but doesn’t manage to lose his attackers. Tailgate provides commentary, as Rodimus wraps the little guy around his neck like a cape, leaps from the M.A.R.B., and does some super sick gymnastics, hanging from a pipe jutting out of the ceiling as the guys who were chasing them run into… well, I assume each other, but it’s not terribly clear.

Crisis avoided, Rodimus drops down, transforming as he does. Tailgate goes with him, because gravity is still a thing on the moon, and we get a reminder that he’s only got a couple days left to live. Unfortunately, it would appear he’ll be spending his final days rotting in a prison cell, as Lockdown shows up with everyone else in handcuffs, forcing Rodimus to come quietly. Everyone seems very put out by this whole situation, especially Brainstorm. He’s downright furious, probably because he got captured by the guy with a fish butt on his head.

Oh, the indignity of it all!

Then again, maybe he’s just focused on working up the cajones to ask just what the hell is going on on this super weird moon. Lockdown obviously isn’t a bad enough dude to be running this operation- we saw what happened the last time he went against someone who actually had the time to plan something out- so our away team has deduced that there’s someone higher up on the food chain here. Also, there’s the whole issue of money clearly being a major factor in all this.

That sort of tech doesn’t just fall out of the sky.

As they’re being walked down this corridor of tension building, Chromedome spies Ultra Magnus in an adjoining hallway. He calls to him, but is very solidly ignored. But there’s no time to worry about Magnus being a rude shit, because it’s time for character reveals!

There’s an interesting little detail about Tyrest’s character, which is a little hard to see given the layout of the art for this page, but here it is, on the end of his staff:

Now, I know that the Autobot badge was appropriated from a symbol meant to represent Primus, but that was millions of years ago. So much for being a neutral party, huh Tyrest?

Rodimus is real peeved about being chased, shot at, arrested, and held against his will, and fully intends to give Tyrest a piece of his mind. Tyrest isn’t interested, however, telling him to shove a sock in it, or be “held in contempt.” While this is happening, Perceptor and Brainstorm have noticed the positively humongous and positively ancient space bridge that Tyrest just has lying around in this room.

Oh no, this is about the baby field from last issue, isn’t it? Brainstorm’s going to jail for infant arson.

Rodimus greatly dislikes this whole situation, and expresses himself through the art of verbal abuse. Smash cut to them back in the cell, Ambus not seeming terribly impressed with how Rodimus handled himself with Tyrest.

The tale is finished, we know where we were. Now how to move forward?

Chromedome asks for a bit more information on our new friend, because the whole “Ambus” thing is throwing him off, and with good reason: how do you tell your late husband’s ex that you had to blow up your mutual partner to keep him from being eaten by a lippy bastard? But this isn’t the illustrious Dominus Ambus- this is MINIMUS Ambus, the lesser known brother. Chromedome/Dominus isn’t completely taken off the table, however, as Minimus uses some awkward phrases that seems to tell me Dominus isn’t confirmed dead.

Rung wants to know what Minimus’ whole deal is, seeing as he’s also in prison with the lot of them. Minimus explains that he’d been moving a shipment of energon derivatives, when Tyrest had arrested him for having traces of space cocaine in his goods.

Was taking his eye really necessary, Tyrest?

Minimus was placed into custody years ago, and has been awaiting trial this whole time. Not exactly sure why, seeing as this moon isn’t exactly off the chain populated. Maybe Tyrest’s just been busy doing things that are absolutely NOT nefarious in any form or fashion whatsoever.

Minimus mentions that he’s lost his Autobot badge, and Rung offers to let him borrow his own- which we’ve never seen him wear because it’s apparently too big for him- but Minimus would rather he wear it himself.

Tailgate doesn’t take to this bit of information about the appeals system very well, seeing as he’s not got years to wait around. He’s beginning to panic, not trusting Cyclonus and Whirl to break them out, and starts needling the others to do something. Brainstorm reveals that his briefcase, which he’s had this entire time, as he always does, has an attention deflector built into it, making it effectively invisible to Tyrest and his goons. Rung feels a certain kinship with the briefcase in that moment.

Imagine walking up to a widower and saying “Hey there, honeybunches, how about submitting to that crippling addiction your late spouse begged you to quit so we can bust out of prison?”

Of course, Tailgate’s only told Cyclonus about his condition, so no one’s exactly raring to go busting out, since they’ve assumed everyone present is effectively immortal.

Over on another part of the moon, Ratchet’s finally waking up from his stress-induced nap to find Pharma channeling his inner Jigsaw. Ratchet gives him some constructive criticism on his new hands, but Pharma’s kind of over listening to whatever Ratchet thinks.

Oh, I hope it’s one of those gag gifts where you open it and get hit in the face with a pie. Those are always a laugh.

Back on the Lost Light, Swerve is looking for his very best friend in the whole wide world. I really hope the feeling is mutual, because there’s no way Swerve would survive that sort of rejection.

The doors to the oil reservoir open, looking like the elevator scene from The Shining, and we see what’s become of our dear, dear Skidsy.

Skids is pretty sure all this Legislator nonsense is because of him, and he’s not about to let people die for his sorry butt today, no siree. He’s gonna save the day.

Then again, this is about where Star Saber pops into existence behind him and stabs him through the spine, so maybe not.

Behold, a bastard!

Star Saber in the IDW run is well-known as being a witch-hunting zealot who can and will commit acts of violence over any perceived slight against Primus he identifies in any given living creature. This is a stark removal from his original character, who is so pure-hearted, kind, and generous, he literally adopted an orphan to raise as his own son. So, what exactly happened here?

TMUK happened.

Back in the days before Roberts was a professional scriptwriter, back before IDW had the license for Transformers, the members of the TMUK fan group decided that Victory’s Star Saber was going to be evil. Why isn’t exactly clear, only that it was a decision that was made not by Roberts on his lonesome, but more as a collaborative effort. Of course, this Star Saber isn’t a one-to-one copy of the TMUK Star Saber- that guy was much more conniving and, uh, Hitler-y, than what we have here.

Getting back to the story, Swerve tries to save/avenge Skids, firing with his custom gun, only to miss every single shot.

Looks like there’s going to need to be a rework on the My First Blaster.

Swerve gets beaned over the head with the butt of Star Saber’s sword for his troubles, his visor shattering in the process. Damn, sure hope he’s got a reading prescription, and not anything he’ll actually need to see.

Back over on the moon, Ratchet’s pretty uninterested in playing Pharma’s little game. It’s just as well though, because, as it turns out, Pharma’s an impatient guy. Must be an absolute nightmare during the holiday season and birthdays. He throws open the box, revealing what’s inside.

THAT IS NOT PIE.

But we saw Ratchet’s face over on the other side of the room. How can he be in two places at once? Well, here’s the thing about Transformers…

They’re pretty darn hard to kill.

Back in the cell, Rung’s doing his part as a member of the away team by passing out snacks. Tailgate reveals his awful garbage disposal mouth. We get the down-low on Tyrest.

Once upon a time, Tyrest was an engineer. Then the war happened, shit got crazy, and suddenly he was organizing exoduses and peace talks with genocidal maniacs, and got appointed Chief Justice by the space pope himself.

Rodimus comes over to get in on the little snack party Rung and Tailgate are having, mentioning the Aequitas Trials- the very ones that were recorded onto Ironfist’s brain back in Last Stand of the Wreckers. Minimus comes over, warning Rodimus to keep hush-hush about those, since they’re top secret and all. Kind of a weird thing for you to do, Minimus. Hell, why do YOU know about these super secret trials, Mr. Nobody Trader Guy? Those were after Dominus disappeared, so it’s not like you had an in through your cool older brother.

Rodimus gives everyone the skinny on the trials, despite Minimus being weird about the whole thing.

Perceptor knows all this already, but I suppose it’s possible Rodimus is the only son of a gun who isn’t subscribed to Wreckers: Declassified and isn’t aware of Perceptor’s whole deal.

Minimus moves the topic over to the crew of the Lost Light, latching on to Skids specifically the moment he’s mentioned. Rung does his due diligence and offers Minimus a ride on the snack train. Minimus declines, Rung insists, and the box of space pocky is dropped on the floor.

Minimus goes to help Rung pick up the snacks, as Rung actively hinders the clean up effort.

Minimus is two seconds from snapping Rung’s scrawny little wrist like a toothpick if he doesn’t quit it. Luckily Rodimus is there to break up this positively bizarre situation. And then things get really weird.

Rung’s been watching Minimus since they got here, noticing things that were very familiar- speech patterns, mannerisms, tone, inflection, OCD behaviors, things like that. Once he developed enough of a hunch, Rung started intentionally antagonizing him by making a mess and putting his Autobot badge on in a way that isn’t up to standards. Why would he do this? Why would he want to cause an outburst in someone he just met?

Well, the thing is, he hasn’t just met Minimus Ambus. He’s actually been serving under him for the last year.

That’s a rather dark use of your doctorate, Rung, forcing a man to reveal his true identity by poking at his mental health until he was about to snap your neck over some candy. You did it so well, too.

Maybe you were on Kimia for more than just psych evals. What was your career officially called again? Psyops specialist is what they have listed on the Wiki. Truth be told, I don’t even know what that entails. Let’s look it up, shall we?

...I guess therapy is his side gig?

So either Roberts meant something else entirely, or Rung is actually super fucking scary.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #remain in light #issue 18 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #comic script writing

82 notes · View notes

queensdivas · 3 years

Text

Turntables (Roger x O/C)

The first one of the gif board fics! This one was given to me by @freddie-moments and was super excited to make this the first one on my list of things to write. For those waiting for theirs don’t worry it’s coming! I have to get a good understanding of them, (And I have like four other fics, and school) But I got this okay!

Also sorry that it’s short. I promise the other ones are going to be much longer!

FOR YOU GUYS!

HUZZAH!!!

Warning: There is a lot of vulgar language in this short fic. You’ll see why because I get the feeling y’all will enjoy it in the context.

Alright here we go!

Masterlist

Kensington

Janurary 2nd 1974

Let’s see the archies go right here and..and..The Amboy Dukes go right here! Finally got a good supply of The Amboy Dukes and I know they’re going to sell out quickly. Walking around the stand to then open up the curtains for the front window.

Moving my way back over behind the counter to make sure the registrar was ready for the day. After the registar I began going through the records of the day stack to see Aurora Borealis by Jigsaw next in line. Not my favorite album in the world but it’s decent for an opening time slot. Sliding the record out of the sleeve to then place it on the turntable for the needle to gently place it down.

The delivery truck should be here any second since we’ve got a new shipment of magazines coming in today. There’s an issue that people have been asking about that feature The Who and apparently more secrets will be unlocked about them. It’s mostly the same information just told in different forms.

Last step is to unlock the front door! Grabbing my keys that I left on the counter. Walking to the door to unlock it. After unlocking it I flipped the open side then plugged in the christmas lights that were hung around the window of the shop. With it being only noon I won’t really see anybody till four.

One hour…

Had some grumpy old man come in to yell at me for not having Doris Day in stock when in fact we did..just not what he wanted exactly. You’d be surprised how often that happens here and each time it’s just nitpicking for solo vinyls from people that aren’t even printed at the moment. If this is how today is going then I’m ruined for the day!

Two hours later...

It took almost two hours for a group of tourists to come in and mess up half of my cleaning from this morning! Stupid Americans. They thought it would be fun to rummage through The Beatles trying to find anything exclusive since it’s England. (It’s not the first time it’s happened but it gets extremely annoying after a while.)

The record ended for it was time to change the record. Hmm let’s see what else we got here today. Peggy Lee is perfect! Pulling the vinyl from the sleeve to gently place it on the turntable. The snapping began as I began swinging my hips back and forth a little.

Never know how much I love you

Never know how much I care

When you put your arms around me

I get a fever that's so hard to bear

You give me fever,

When you kiss me

Fever when you hold me tight

Fever

In the mornin', a fever all through the night

Sliding from behind the counter to slowly dance throughout the store as I began checking the stock of everything on the floor. Sashaying over to the blues section of the shelf to start going through them.

Sun lights up the day time

Moon lights up the night

I light up when you call my name

And you know I'm gonna treat you right

You give me fever,

When you kiss me

Fever when you hold me tight

Fever

In the mornin'

A fever all through the night

Everybody's got the fever

That is somethin' you all know

Fever isn't such a new thing

Fever started a long ago

Ah the key change. One of my favorite moments in this song. My hips swayed back and forth as I slowly worked my way through the aisle till the door opened. Immediately stopping as the small group came into the shop. Turning around from the shelf to see that they were circling around the shelves nicely.

“Welcome to Itty Bitty Records.” Greeting with a smile as I began going down Ike Turner's collection as they began looking around.

“Um excuse me?” The man stood next to me as he had really curly hair and stood tall like a giant before me goodness.

“What can I help you with?” Smiling as I turned to face him.

“Do you have any Mungo Jerry?” He asked as I had to think for a second.

“We do actually.” Motioning him to follow as we made it to the “M'' section for me to try to find them. Ma..Me...Mo...Mungo Jerry!

“Right there. Now I am expecting a shipment to be delivered in the next week if you’re looking for something specific of his?” He looked at the few records that were there and smiled at me.

“This is good. Thank you.” He smiled as I walked back over to the Blues section to finish where I left out. Definitely need a lot more Aretha Franklin in this shop or I might go mad.

“Excuse me?” Looking up to see another customer who wore a huge fur coat with his hair about shoulder length. It was pretty blonde but sort of odd to see a man in such a big fur coat to come into my store. Normally if they’re looking into records they head into more of the London London area.

“Do you have The Surfaris?” Not a lot of people listen to them. Mostly because they were really popular in California and I think that’s literally it for popularity. I find them interesting with a fun old sound that people still enjoy.

“We do. Didn’t think anyone listened to them on our side of the woods.” Commenting as we walked over the “S” section.

“Sort of a sucker for the classics.” He commented as we rounded the corner into the “S” Shelf.

“Most people our age would call you an old chap. Right here.” Pointing at them with my pencil.

“Fantastic you have Hit City. Is it 65’?”

“Yes. We have a first edition in the back if you’re interested.” He formed a huge smile on his face as that was my cue to go and get it.

“Give me a few minutes.” Smiling as he went back to looking at the records. I walked back into the back to begin looking for the box I usually keep them in.

IT should be around here somewhere. Making it into the back as I was skimming up and down on the shelf looking for one of the original boxes. Is it more back than I thought it would be and I can’t exactly leave the front alone this long.

C’mon...you sneaky little devil where are you hiding?

FOUND IT!

Reaching up to grab the box labeled 10 y/o originals. Should definitely be in here since it only arrived the past two three years. And again no one is going after The Surfaris. If it was anything major mainstream then I would be worried for him.

Walking back out onto the floor to see him waiting patiently at the counter for the record. I went around the counter to open the box and start going through all the records that are in there. It’s a little more dusty than I enjoy it but it’s a good reminder when my workers come in to take over that I can stay later and go through everything.

“Let’s see..we’ve got an original Yardbirds, Velvet Underground, Juicy Lucy who I will make sure plays next. Ummm..” I kept going through them till I saw the yellow truck and red lettering of the album.

“So why The Surfaris? Some small band from California?” Asking him as I handed him the record.

“Nothing was more fascinating than surfing rock. It sort of helps with the gray winters of home.” This is true. England does get rather gloomy and very bright music can always make those gray clouds fly away.

“To think the Americans went from surfing music to heavy rock in a matter of ten years.” We laughed as I noticed that his eyes were...were these beautiful blue pools. Almost like beautiful sapphires.

“If you’re interested I’ve got plenty of more originals in the back. More than just American surfing music.” Smiling at him as I offered him to look into the box.

“I would definitely be interested. Can I put my coat somewhere?” He asked as I pointed over to the coat rack.

“Roger by the way.” He smiled as he took off his coat with a long striped scarf.

“Anya.” Smiling as his group of friends he came in with approached him by the coat rack.

“I’ll be a little bit. Meet you there at the studio around six.” His group left as I began pulling out the rest of the records from the box.

“You seem like a trustworthy chap. Do you mind if I leave you in charge of the front. Just don’t let anyone steal anything please while I get a few more boxes.” Asking him as I am hoping he doesn’t rob me either.

“Of course.” Nodding as I walked from behind the counter to then hurry into the back.

Grabbing the small step ladder for me to start grabbing boxes from the shelf and placing them on the ground. I really need to take a few days and go through all this junk, maybe save me some money on orders if I have almost originals in here. I wouldn’t even sell them for that much more than the ones I already have, just a few more extra pounds maybe.

Lightly kicked the door open to carry two cases of records to then towards the counter. He was already looking through the ones I laid out for him to look at. I’m taking a wild guess that he’s some musician and a very dedicated one to that fact. Or he’s a conicor kind of person who wants to get his hands on this stuff before it comes obsolete.

“These should be good for now. Thank you Anya.” He smiled as I opened the lid of the boxes. He was smiling the entire time as I began going through them to see the amount of records that I had so far in the back. His smile is really cute and it brings a nice warmth into the store.

“The Chocolate Watchband? Holy hell it’s been a few since I listened to them.” I completely forgot about them. I love psychedelic rock but there were so many these past five years that it’s hard to remember each and every one of them.

“There’s something that I’ve noticed with a lot of these types of bands Roger. Their band name has some sort of food in it, guess when the acid is gone you get the serious taste of the munchies.” He chuckled a little to then go through half of the bands.

“The Chocolate Watchband, The Lemon Pipers, The Flying Burrito Brothers, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, Chicken Shack, and Apple Pie Motherhood?” I don’t think I’ve listened to them before actually.

“Let’s hear it.” He handed me the record as I took off Peggy Lee who to then replace it with their 1968 record. That’s also called Apple Pie Motherhood. The first song that was played was Born Under a Bad Sign. It definitely reminds me of watching Woodstock on the television.

“Let us not forget Vanilla Fudge.” Roger showed me as he did a little jazz hand underneath the record. I just noticed..he has beautiful hands. Not a lot of men have just hands..but they look so rough around the edges. They look stunning.

“Good god this was my first record I think I bought for the store. I’m not surprised that it’s still here. They were a little too hard and felt like they we’re trying too hard. After working in this store for two three years now I can definitely tell when a band is trying too hard or not.

“Do you think this decade will be any better than the previous one?” I asked Roger for him to perk up at my question.

“Well think about it. The movement in California changed music. Little Richard and Elvis Presley brought blues back into light, Lucille Bogan showed that you can write literally whatever you want.”

“Lucille Bogan?” Oh my god Lucille Bogan!

“Lucille Bogan! The raunchy blues singer?” He drew a blank as I practically ran around the counter and towards the Blues section. Bogan bogan bogan AH HA! Snatching it from the shelf to then back to the turntable. Practically tossing off the record from the turntable to replace it with Lucille Bogan.

“Now just listen to the lyrics, let the lyrics flow through you Roger.” Placing the needle down to then watch the show before me. I know Roger is going to be shocked when he hears this song.

I got a man I love

I got a man I like

Everytime I fuck them means

I give ‘em the doggone clap! Oh baby!

His eyes widened for him to take a look at the album cover.

Give ‘em the doggone clap

But that’s the kind of pussy that they really like!

“Jesus Christ Anya!” He laughed. But we couldn’t stop listening to it because it’s just so fantastic!

I told him I gotta have a good cock!

And it’s got four damn good names!

Rough top

Rough cock

Tough cock

Cock with a bone!

“Dear God Anya! How much?” Looking at the front of the album then back at him.

“Fifteen pounds?” Roger immediately pulled out his wallet to hand me the money. Opening the register to give him back his change, with the music still playing around in the background. Till I took the needle off the record to pack it up for him.

“Listen. What time are you out of here?” Roger asked which made me gulp a little.

“Four. Why?” I could feel the rush of blood going through my body at an alarming rate.

“Come by Trident Studios around six if you would like to.” He offered as he placed a small card on the counter.

“Okay. I will definitely be there.” Smiling as he walked over to the coat rack to put on his fur coat then scarf.

“See you later Anya.”

“Bye Roger!” Smiling and waving to him as he left the store.

What just happened?

#roger taylor #Roger Meddows Taylor #Roger and Freddie #roger taylor one shot #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fluff #Roger Taylor x o/c #Queen #Queen band #Brian May #freddie mercury #John Deacon #fan fiction #Roger Taylor Fan Ficiton #70s Roger Taylor #record #record stores

18 notes · View notes

lokislytherin · 4 years

Text

euphoria // vampire!jungkook

pairing: vampire!jeon jeongguk x human!reader

summary: you’re scared of vampires - until one saves your life one night.

word count: 1988 + 1808 + 2373 + 1798 + 1046 + 2113 + 1646

chapters: prologue / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / epilogue

When you regain consciousness, you’re lying on a soft surface.

"Y/N," a male voice murmurs, tinged with desperation, "Y/N, come on, please, you have to wake up." Your head is propped up, probably on someone's lap, and shaking fingers comb through your messy hair. "Jin, she's not going to die, right? Please tell me she's going to make it. She has to." Die? You realize that you have no idea where you are, and you have no recollection of what happened and how you got there. For some reason, your eyes won’t open, but you’re secretly grateful – a part of your hazy mind has managed to figure out that it’s Jeongguk’s lap you’re lying on. He has nice thighs, you think distantly. "I don’t know, Jeongguk. I’m sorry." Seokjin’s voice is strained. "It’s been long time since I’ve used so much magic in one go. This is precisely why I’m a vet, not a surgeon. Healing spells on humans take up a lot of energy, and I've never had to heal injuries so serious before." "She almost died, Jin! I don’t know how I’d live with myself if she died because I was too late." The young vampire sounds like he’s close to tears. "I should’ve started following her after we tracked down that damned leech. I put her in so much danger, I-"

"It’s not your fault, Jeongguk." The witch’s words are quiet and reassuring. "It could’ve happened to anyone, not just Y/N."

"Yeah, but it happened to Y/N!"Jeongguk protests.

You finally muster the energy to open your eyes. "What happened?" Your voice is disgustingly raspy, but your throat hurts, and you don’t know why. Seokjin smiles, relief clear in his eyes. "Oh good, you’re awake!" His eyes promptly roll into the back of his eyes and he collapses neatly onto the couch behind him. "Oh gosh,” you say, eyebrows furrowing in alarm, “is he okay?" Jeongguk looks down at you. "Y/N, you almost died, and you’re asking him if he’s alright?" He shakes his head with a smile that is both fond and awed. "You really are one of a kind, Y/N." You frown up at him. "But I can't remember what happened..." "You were attacked, Y/N." You think long and hard, and everything seems to fall into place, pieces in a jigsaw puzzle made of memories finally clicking together. You were going home from work when you felt like you were being followed. With your luck, you were – by a vampire, by the haunted look on Jeongguk’s face.

That's as far as your faulty memory goes.

"After you fell asleep yesterday morning, Jin and I spent the day trying to track down whoever turned me. He’s surprisingly good with advanced tracking spells. I found out I wasn’t the only person they turned – apparently, they have a fetish for young adults walking alone at night." It does make a little sense, but you don’t tell him out loud. "I had to get justice. Not just for myself, but for everyone who was forcefully drained and turned because of that guy." Jeongguk sighs in frustration, raking a hand through his hair. "We never could've guessed he'd go after you next."

"But I'm alive." you point out. "If that vampire is as dangerous as you said, how am I still around?" Granted, you don't remember enough to tell the tale, but you know for sure that your heart is still beating in your chest. "I'm still human."

"That's because Jin and I intervened. I fought the vampire while Jin got you back here to heal you. I have to admit, that's the most I've ever been injured in a fight." He smiles shyly. "The sound of your heart beating made it all worth it, though." He puffs out his chest. "I never lose."

You pat his cheek affectionately. "My hero. You saved my life again." It still hurts to talk, and you still feel a little woozy.

Jeongguk melts into a bumbling and stammering mess in front of you eyes. It's cute, how flustered he is. "I just did what I thought was right. But honestly, I'm not too sure." A haunted look seeps into his blue eyes. "I killed someone, Y/N. Granted, he was already dead, but I've never been conscious and angry enough to kill. You were unconscious for three days because I found you too late."

You try to sit up, but your weakened body betrays you and you find yourself falling back onto him. "Gukkie, there's no need to beat yourself up about this. You did the right thing. Killing a killer doesn't change the number of killers in the world, but it weren't for you, I wouldn't be alive right now. If it weren't for you, so many more kids would've missed out on the chance to live their lives."

Jeongguk sniffles, and you can feel the guilt rolling off him in waves. "I don't deserve to be called your hero, because I'm not a hero. I killed someone, Y/N! Even when I'm on the verge of dying of thirst and I'm desperate for blood, I try not to kill. But I just killed someone with my bare hands because I wanted to." He looks at you with an expression akin to wonder. "How can you still stand to be around me? I'm a monster. It's in my nature."

He angrily wipes away a tear. "I killed someone the first time we met, and that was because he was a pervert and a creep and he deserved it. But when I came to you to apologize, I scared you! But you forgave me, and you wanted to be my friend, and nobody's ever wanted that from me for a long time, and-"

His voice breaks. "I don't deserve you, but I think I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do."

Your world screeches to a halt. Jeongguk is in love with you?

You need some time to think.

"I need a shower," you say instead, stumbling off the bed. You grab a clean pair of shorts and a shirt out of your drawer.

Jeongguk nods, looking a little dejected. "Okay." His voice is small and sad, and it breaks your heart to hear it.

However, in the shower, you do take the time to think - about everything that just happened, really. There are two dots on your neck with a line running across it, a pale welt rising above your skin. Even though Seokjin healed you enough for you to recover and you can cover it up with makeup, the scar can never fade: a mark on your skin, a gap in your memory.

It doesn't hurt, not even when you step into the warm water. It just feels... numb.

But a part of you heats up at the thought of Jeongguk - he's in love with you, but do you love him the same way? You know you like him for his physical aspects (you'd let him choke you with his thick thighs without hesitation), but being in love with him is a whole different thing.

You think about the list of qualities you want in your dream man: physically, he has to be strong, fit, taller than you, preferably a cute smile (and dimples!) matched with a deep voice; mentally either smart, artsy or both, passionate about his work and his hobbies.

You think about Jeongguk, and all the times he's spent with you. He's strong - strong enough to pull a perfectly-fine door right off it's hinges by accident (it happened to the fridge door, when Jin started asking you questions you pulled a Jeongguk and turned evasive). He's fit, too. Thighs! Your mind squeaks. He's taller than you, but not by too much. He's tall enough for you to tilt your head up to talk to him, but you'd be taller than him if you wore heels. He's hot, but also cute - when he grins, his bunny teeth poke out of his mouth, a little dot of a dimple carved in a cheek. His voice isn't low, like Taehyung's, but it's low enough for a pleasant shiver to race down your spine, like when he bit you.

He's smart and artsy - when he saw you working on a composition project for your music class, you'd happily taught him how to work the digital instruments. By the end of the night, he'd already mastered it, much to your amazement. He was passionate, too, about everything he did. I'm not gonna lose, you remember him saying while both of you were playing Mario Kart. He'd beat Jin's high score, and next time Jin played, he'd been confused, wondering when he'd beat his own high score.

You think about what makes you happy, and when you do, your mind creates an image of Jeongguk grinning at you.

You hear your heart go ba-DUMP in your chest.

Oh, you realize, maybe I am in love with him too.

The realization is shocking enough for you to drop your soap on your foot.

"I'm in love with Jeongguk," you say quietly to yourself, hoping the sound of water droplets hitting the floor covers the sound of your voice. Acknowledging the fact that you're in love with the vampire doesn't actually sound so bad.

Your foot, on the other hand...

29 notes · View notes

2x4swrites · 3 years

Text

I’m a gay idiot steering a one-man ship. This is Eric Matthews/Adam Faulkner-Stanheight.....

Adam had to fight to get Eric to agree to a puppy. Or, okay, it wasn’t much of a fight, but Eric bitched the whole way there, and the whole way back. It was made very fucking clear that Adam would be one to train the thing to take care of its business, and also the one who would clean up any messes. He’s totally cool with that— he’s too excited about actually having a dog to give a shit. Besides, he’d seen the way Eric had looked at the little puppy.

They’d gone to the local shelter, since Adam had seen a flyer about a litter just having been rescued. Seeing all the scared little dogs, locked up in kennels… they both understood what that was like. And this one, the one with the missing ear? Eric would deny it, but Adam saw the way his face just melted the moment those little brown eyes met his. So at the end of the day, adopting the mutt was a no-brainer. There’s no hiding his smirk when Eric silently picks out a couple toys from the display in the front area.

Things hadn’t been easy lately. Adam knows a puppy won’t fix it, obviously, but it’ll still be good for Eric. To have something around the house, that isn’t gonna judge him. Two weeks in the bathroom had been bad enough. Eric spent six months in hell, all for wanting to protect his son. The boy’s mother wouldn’t even let him around Eric anymore— Adam remembers the way Eric had torn their apart in futile anger. In the dark of their bedroom, when he thought Eric was asleep, Adam had wrapped his arms around him only to feel the man finally break down, shoulders shaking with silent, choked sobs.

There wasn’t anything Adam could do but be there, and he couldn’t even do that all the time. Not like Eric needed. Not like he deserved. And he does deserve it. They all do, this kindness. Adam had seen the way Eric changed when he spoke to Daniel over the phone, trying to bridge the gaps in the relationship despite being separated by three states. It killed him, not being there for his son. In his eyes, he’d failed Daniel every way he possibly could. He hates himself for it.

So yeah, a puppy won’t fix things, but Adam knows how much Eric cares. How desperately he wants to feel like a human again. This’ll only help, he knows. He remembers Eric telling him about the pet rat he’d had, back in the cell. The way his eyes lit up, even as he called it a “little furry bastard.” He always managed to make Adam laugh. When they get home, Eric carries the bag of supplies and Adam takes the crate— Eric puts a surprising amount of effort into picking a place for the dog bed for someone who “doesn’t give a fuck.” Adam doesn’t say anything, but he can’t hide his smile.

At first, Adam really is the only one taking care of the puppy. Sure, Eric tops up its food and water bowls, but it’s Adam who trains it, and Adam who takes it for walks and plays with it. He knows Eric takes a long time to warm up, but this is a little ridiculous. He’s wondering if Eric really doesn’t like the dog, with the way it begs for attention every time Adam comes home from work. He only has to wonder for a week, though. When he comes home from a late shoot and isn’t immediately bombarded by an excited puppy, he knows something’s up.

Quietly slipping off his shoes and jacket, Adam creeps further into the apartment, only to be greeted by… Eric. Sound asleep on their couch, with the puppy curled up on his chest. The little brown dog’s hind leg is kicking as it dreams, Eric’s arm cradling it loosely. Raising his camera, Adam snaps a couple quick pictures. It’s just too good an opportunity to pass up. His boyfriend is fucking adorable.

Stepping over to the couch, Adam gently brushes his fingers through Eric’s shaggy hair. He hums in response, cracking an eye open and smiling a little when he sees it’s just Adam. The photographer bends down to steal a quick kiss.

“Sorry I can’t get up to say hi.” Eric murmurs. Adam sits down on the floor, gently taking Eric’s free hand.

“It’s all good. I guess you and Rip are finally getting along.” Adam teases, earning a smirk from his still-sleepy boyfriend.

“He wouldn’t leave me alone, alright? What the fuck else was I supposed to do?”

“Nothing. This is a great thing to come home to.” the photographer chuckles. Eric flips him the bird, but he’s smiling. It always makes Adam melt a little, seeing him really happy like this. Laughing, he leans forward to press his forehead against Eric’s shoulder.

“I’m so fucking gay for you, you know that?”

“I know. I’m dating you, remember?” Eric’s fingers card through Adam’s messy hair, prompting a pleased hum as Adam subtly leans into the touch.

“I just like to remind you, fucking sue me.” Adam scoffs, but he doesn’t move.

“I will. I’ll call that lawyer asshole and I’ll sue you for everything.”

“Art? You like Art!” Adam bursts into a fit of laughter, startling Rip in the process. The puppy starts to growl, but Eric soothes him easily— soon Rip’s sound asleep again, there on Eric’s chest.

“Doesn’t mean he isn’t an asshole. Besides, I like you way more and I’m still gonna sue you.”

“For what!?” Adam tries to muffle his laughter, grinning at Eric. Eric grins right back, gently guiding Adam closer with a hand on the back of his neck. When they kiss, Eric’s lips are chapped, his stubble scratchy against Adam’s skin.

“For being so fucking cute.”

“Then I’ll have to sue you too.” Adam rests his cheek back on Eric’s shoulder, looking at him with eyes so soft Eric still doesn’t know how he deserves them. Eric shakes his head a little.

“I’m not cute, jerk.” he mutters, toying with a lock of Adam’s hair.

“You’re automatically cute with a puppy asleep on your chest. It’s the law. Art’ll agree with me.” The photographer hums wisely. Chuckling, Eric glances down at the sleeping ball of fluff. When he looks back at Adam, his expression is soft, unguarded. The opposite of the wounded glare he wore every time Adam saw him at those stupid Jigsaw survivor groups.

“You got me there.” Eric presses another quick kiss to Adam’s lips. Their life may not be amazing— they may both be fucking messes, but this? It’s all Adam could want out of life, right here.

“Damn right I do.” Adam smirks, and when Eric chuckles it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

#eric/adam #saw #fanfic #sdjfskjdfksjdfjsdjkfjksf #dont @ me abt this im just gay

11 notes · View notes

normal-thoughts-official · 4 years

Note

I think both Magnus and Alec have a big part of their lifes that have nothing to do with eachother. Okey, they are happily married and the live together but anyway... What about their hobbies? What about their own personal projects? Friends/queerplatonic relationships? I want to know who they are, besides of great politic leaders or someone's husband

i mean, i agree. i hate it when ppl reduce magnus and alec to malec or just generally care more about the romantic relationships than the other ones, nevermind bothering to develop other aspects of their lives that are just... theirs

to be fair i feel like we got a reasonable amount of that for them (for shadowhunter’s standarts of giving us content anyway). i mean, less for alec but that kinda makes sense considering that he’s spent most of his life avoiding any kind of close relationships that weren’t with his siblings like the plague and generally being, like, raised in a military based society with the weight of the world on his shoulders and also gay. but i totally agree that we should have gotten more of him getting out of his shell and finding hobbies and friends beyond just a romantic relationship. and for magnus, well, we know that he likes physics and science and studying magic as a whole, and dancing, and we know about his friends aka catarina and ragnor and raphael and dot, we know about his found family and his club and that he likes parties and good food and drinks, travelling, and meeting new people and cultures. you know?

but anyway, other headcanons with little things about their lives:

alec is totally the workout gay who likes fucking, idk jogging every morning and shit, and for some reason i can see him being into mountain climbing???? and magnus is like No Thank You. I Will Do Literally Anything Else because yikes the amount of effort and sweat and it’s just generally unpleasant. magnus is far from being sedentary, but also, no. yikes

he’s more into taking long walks in nice places and admiring the view and shit like that and he’s all like “isn’t it great? :)” and alec is like “haha yeah how far are we” because he’s just... goal-oriented and when he’s doing sports he likes to have a clear goal, something to achieve, or to push himself to his limits and all that bullcrap. while magnus likes to do it for the sake of doing it and enjoying himself and getting in contact with his own body & mind & soul and shit. they find some sort of enjoyment in it with the way alec always makes magnus laugh with his grumpiness + inability to truly understand what this whole thing is about + just general himboness, but as a whole, magnus likes to take his walks alone, so he can get that space for himself. and he’s definitely not joining in when alec is doing his weird sportsman training gimmick whatever-thing, either

same with tai-chi! magnus tried to get alec into it (altho somewhat awkwardly since magnus does magical tai chi and alec very much does not have magic) but it just, didn’t work out. one second into it and alec was already making that painfully concentrated face and he’s stiff as a board and it’s the opposite of what it’s supposed to be and magnus breaks down laughing and alec is all offended and they just can’t get past a few seconds and end up giving up. alec is the bitch who sits down to medidate and is immediately like BOY I AM GONNA GET IN TOUCH WITH MY INNER SELF SO FAST AND HARD FUCKING WATCH ME I’M GONNA BE THE BEST MEDIDATOR THIS SIDE OF THE PACIFIC FUCKING OOHMMM BITCH. introspective arts are just not for him

i like to think that alec gets closer to aline, and i can see him and helen hitting it off, too. like seriously guys let alec have friends who aren’t just magnus’ friends (and let magnus have friends that are HIS friends, too)

i know underhill is implied to become his friend but also, like..... he’s so boring i just can’t have any hcs for them as friends daoijsdaiouja i think they have more of a solidarity, nodding when walking past each other in the halls thing than actual friendship you know

obviously there’s alec’s siblings as he will always be the one izzy loves the most and she will always be one of the most important people for him, and even as magnus and izzy totally are friends too, she is still alec’s sister and they make it a point to see each other, just the two of them, at least once a week. izzy always smiles and loops her arm through his and alec’s immediately huffing but he loves it and she knows that he loves it. she was like, his only source of physical contact for so long, and god he really needed it and he loved her for giving it to him even as he pretended it was something he hated. neither of them want to shake that habit, so it stays

but there’s also a particular brand of friendship magnus has with her that alec doesn’t. like when they get all weird about dead bodies or go shopping? alec’s out

magnus does a lot of studying (mostly languages, physics, and chemistry, as well as magic) so he has his own study room (plus the apothecary) that’s a whole damn mess filled with books and notes scattered around and shit and alec is not allowed in because he always wants to organize it and GOD FUCKING DAMN IT IT’S NOT DISORGANIZED I KNOW WHERE EVERYTHING’S SUPPOSED TO BE and if alec moves a single pen, magnus Will Know About It

in exchange he always keeps the door closed or spelled so alec doesn’t have to look at it

obviously there’s archery, which is something alec loves to do and practice, especially as he starts to get more into the bureaucratic parts of shadowhunting. he needs his bow and arrow to feel connected to himself and his body and safe, and he also has his own practicing room. magnus can do archery fine, but it’s not really among his interests

magnus of course has his regular meetings with the immortal squad and his breakfasts with raphael :) not that raphael isn’t part of the immortal squad but they also enjoy having a time just for the two of them. they are father and son after all, and besides, they lived together for quite a while, and the dynamics of them versus them + ragnor + cat are different

while magnus loves taking alec with him in his trips and to art galleries and out to eat in great restaurants and shit, they both know it’s something that alec, while very curious to know about, does not appreciate the same way that he does. not more or less, just, differently. if they go to an art gallery, magnus is gonna be looking at every piece and musing and maybe talking about the painters of x and y movement that he knew, and analyzing the technique or whatever. alec is less interested in the paintings themselves and more in the artists, what their life was like, what the period/place they lived in was like, how that shaped their art, you know? like he’s just not a very visual person haha me projecting never so what interests him is more outside of the paintings than inside. so even when they go to these places together, they’re just having completely different experiences? and a lot of the time they end up straying and meeting each other later, where they’ll chat and generally be ridiculous. but the both of them also enjoy going to those on their own or with their friends who Get It, you know? because again just completely different rhythms and interests and stuff

i feel like they both enjoy trashy television, but like, in completely different ways? like magnus loves him a terrible sitcom even if he’ll never admit it, where alec is more into like..... really bad and dramatic mystery shows

they both enjoy watching reality shows though. magnus wasn’t that huge on it before, but with alec? man, that’s a riot. he’ll judge absolutely everyone and make faces and just generally be fucking hilarious

ok i know that i’m talking about things they do together but my goal here is to talk about like... who they are and what their interests are individually, even if they are together, you know? and not like, As An Unit

magnus loves music and recitals and dance shows of all kinds. also, street art! i feel like that’s something him, cat, and maia have in common

speaking of cat; there are always His Cats. like sure they like alec fine but as soon as magnus is home they all immediately flock to him. it’s like alec never existed. goodbye, tall person

tbh i feel like raphael is totally an animals person and soon the dumort kind of turns into like, a sort of animal shelter? like magnus gives him the idea and all the vampires are naturally drawn to the idea of the dumort becoming a place for the strays of the world, especially if it means they get some company.... and maybe warm cuddles. anyway, my point is, magnus loves to visit the dumort and play with the cats and dogs that are there from time to time and he’s so proud of raphael and what he’s doing with the place and i just aaa :’)

i feel like alec would have an interest in technology? like he’d be that bitch who Knows tech (probably started because of his job, but soon he found that he like, actually has an interest in it?) and who cleans his keyboard every day and only gets licensed programmes and takes care of his laptop like those guys who are weird about cars

lmao for some reason i can totally picture him and aline bonding over that?

oh man alec would be into PUZZLES. word puzzles, jigsaw puzzles, the whole grandpa shit. he doesn’t do it often but when he does, he’s just At It. him and madzie can play with jigsaw puzzles for hours and wouldn’t remember to eat. she visits one day and is like I Got A 3D Puzzle and alec is just like neat! and they just sit down and do it until they have to be forced to bed or something. then at like precisely 6AM their eyes snap open like It’s A New Day, Puzzle Time and it just keeps being like this until they’re done

also there’s magnus’ morning routine, of course, especially since he doesn’t really have a schedule, and as sociable as he is he does enjoy some alone time to make himself some breakfast, do some tai chi, maybe read a book or comic, and all that. alec is just snoring the whole time completely passed out when it’s not a work day, tbh

okay that’s all i have actually doasdiad i hope it isn’t too much or disappointing or whatever. also, if anyone else wants to add their own headcanons for alec’s and magnus’ hobbies, feel free to do so :)

#sh #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #magnus bane #malec #ask #anonymous #long post #q

25 notes · View notes

chaostheoryy · 5 years

Text

Flashes of You (A Reddie One-shot)

Summary: Richie’s childhood comes to him in flashes. It isn’t until he travels back to Derry, Maine and sees Eddie Kaspbrak that any of them start to make sense.

Word count: 2,185

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Language

A/N: This is my first time writing for Reddie and I’ve been in the It fandom for approximately 96 hours so forgive me if my characterizations are off.

For two decades, Richie’s childhood came to him in white hot flashes. He couldn’t fully recall a single event or a single friend’s name but he would see details and hear sounds so clear that he couldn’t understand why everything else surrounding these points on the road map of his mind was fuzzy.

The flashes would come at random. Sometimes he’d be going through the mundane moments of life like showering or eating. Other times the flashes would come to him in the middle of a gig. One moment he was setting up the punchline and the next he was staring at a massive statue of Paul Bunyan.

None of the flashes made sense and yet he knew they were somehow all connected: a crimson “V” scribbled over a sloppy “S”, an underground hammock, a pink polo, a fanny pack full of medicine bottles, the letter “E” carved into a wooden plank.

And oh God, the laugh. Every so often his ears would ring with the sound of a boy’s laughter — a sound so pure and contagious that he couldn’t help but smile every time he heard it. He didn’t know who it was that laugh belonged to, but he never wanted it to stop. He didn’t tell jokes for the fame or the money. He became a trash mouth comedian for that laugh.

***

When Richie got the call from Mike, his stomach flipped. Flashes bombarded him like lighting bolts striking the ocean. Blood, lifeless bodies, a red balloon, a condemned home surrounded by weeds. It wasn’t clear as to what these flashes meant, but Richie couldn’t deny that he was afraid. There was a reason he couldn’t remember his childhood. Something terrible happened in Derry, Maine and, frankly, he didn’t want to know what it was.

After throwing up and downing a couple of drinks to burn away the taste of his own bile, he made it out on stage for his comedy special. He was a mess, stumbling over his bits and forgetting the punchline to his opening joke. A man shouted “you suck” from the audience but Richie just smiled. That soft laughter of the boy was ringing in his ears again.

He wasn’t going to Derry tomorrow to follow through on some cryptic oath he couldn’t even remember making. He was going to Derry for that laugh.

***

The moment Richie stepped through the doors of the Chinese restaurant with Beverly and Ben, he locked eyes with a stranger across the foyer. His hair was slicked back, his brow creased with incessant worry. A small smile tugged ever so slightly at the corner of the stranger’s mouth and suddenly Richie felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Eddie.

The flashes started again, only this time with a wider scope: the crimson “V” scribbled over the “S” on Eddie’s arm cast, the underground hammock where Eddie draped himself over Richie and knocked his glasses off with his toes, the pink polo that Eddie loved to wear whenever he needed to convince his mom to let him hang out with the Losers, the fanny pack hooked around Eddie’s waist that held every stupid pill his dipshit doctor had prescribed to him, and the letter “E” carved beside Richie’s own initial on the kissing bridge.

Richie’s stomach flipped and a lump formed in his throat. Eddie Kaspbrak was the first person he had ever loved and it took him two decades to even remember that.

“Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath before following Beverly and Ben to the table. How he was going to get through this, he honestly couldn’t say.

***

Dinner somehow went even worse than Richie expected from a bunch of friends-turned-strangers getting together for the first time in twenty plus years. The food was great and the conversations were surprisingly lively up until the point Mike brought up the murderous clown from their childhood. All of a sudden the table started rattling and the bowl of fortune cookies turned into a smorgasbord of nightmares. Richie’s own cookie mutated into an eyeball with tentacles and attempted to crawl across the table toward him like a zombie. He couldn’t recall a time in his entire life where he had been more disgusted.

Amidst all the chaos, he kept his eyes on Eddie. The man was terrified, trembling in the corner as a cookie with the wing of a bat fluttered around and shrieked at him. The attack brought back more memories of his childhood, moments where he had done everything he could to protect and comfort Eddie — drawing Eddie’s eyes from the horrors of Pennywise’s illusions, pushing Eddie behind him to keep him out of harm’s way, firmly grasping Eddie’s shoulder whenever he was afraid to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

When the illusion stopped and the dust settled, Richie bolted from the restaurant as fast as he could. He couldn’t stay and face the facts. If he stayed, he was going to die. And, on top of that, he would be forced to come to terms with the ugly ass truth that was his feelings for Eddie. Being closeted for his entire life was one thing. Finding out that the man he had unknowingly been in love with for nearly thirty years was married to somebody else was a whole other level of suffering.

Standing in the parking lot, Richie was surprised to find Eddie at his side. Eddie wanted out just as badly as him and, frankly, Richie was relieved. If Eddie ran away just like him, they would both survive. The idea of going back to the life where he no longer knew who Eddie was sucked. But a life of oblivious wandering and shitty stand-up was better than a life where Eddie was murdered by a psychotic, shapeshifting clown.

Mike tried with every ounce of his being to convince them to stay and defeat Pennywise together but their will to live was stronger. Richie hopped in his Mustang and headed back to the inn with Eddie hot on his trail.

***

Neither Richie nor Eddie said anything to one another when they got back to the Derry Town House. They simply bolted up the stairs to their respective rooms and started packing. Having brought nothing more than a small carry-on sized duffle bag, Richie finished gathering his belongings before Eddie had even managed to lay his clothes out on the bed.

“What’re you moving in?” Richie teased when he peeked his head into Eddie’s room and saw the two open suitcases on the floor. “Look at all this shit.”

Eddie frowned. “Fuck off. I didn’t even know what the hell I was doing coming to Derry so how was I supposed to know what to bring?”

“I only own like two shirts. Guess I’m not in any position to judge.”

Richie eyed the pile of clothes and was drawn to a vaguely familiar shade of pink. A soft smile yanked at the corner of his mouth.

“Your style hasn’t changed much has it, Eds?”

Eddie followed his gaze to the pink polo laying by the foot of the bed. “Myra hates any outfit that’s not a suit and tie,” Eddie said as he continued folding his collection of dress pants.

“Well, somebody needs to pull the stick out of her ass ‘cause that shirt is bitchin’, man.”

Richie’s heart nearly soared when Eddie laughed. That was it, the whole reason Richie came back.

A long silence blanketed the room as Richie watched Eddie work. Twenty-seven years later and Eddie was still as precise as can be, making sure every article of clothing was folded into the same dimensions before he put them in the suitcase. Things had to be as perfect and clean as possible. At least, that’s what Eddie’s mom had taught him.

“Jesus Christ, would you pick up the pace? I’m gonna pass a fucking kidney stone before you finish packing,” Richie quipped to break the silence.

Eddie threw him a look. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, dickwad?”

“Not until Tuesday night when your mom and I meet up for our weekly date night at Olive Garden.”

“Fuck you,” Eddie snapped despite the amused gleam in his eye.

“I’m serious, Spaghetti. You better not cock-block me on my date or I swear to God I’m shoving those unlimited breadsticks up your ass.”

Eddie stopped all of a sudden, the shirt in his grasp hanging limply in wait to be folded. The expression on his face was almost impossible to read. Richie felt his chest tighten.

“Eds? You alright?” Richie asked hesitantly. “Look, if the mom jokes are too much, I can ease off-“

“No it’s fine. It’s just that no one’s ever...” Eddie’s thought trailed off. “How much do you remember? About our childhood?”

Richie adjusted the shoulder strap of his bag and shrugged. “Not much. Bits and pieces used to come back in flashes but I couldn’t even figure out what the hell they all meant until I got here. It’s like some fucked up jigsaw puzzle that my brain’s still trying to put together.”

Eddie laid the shirt in his hands down on the bed and leaned against the wooden post. “It doesn’t make any sense, man. How can we be best friends for years and then suddenly forget everything about each other once we separate? You don’t just-“ Eddie swallowed. The worry lines on his brow were even deeper than before. “I saw you on TV — one of your comedy specials. I looked right at you and, even though I had never heard your name before I just got this feeling like...Like I knew you.”

Richie felt like his throat was going to collapse in on itself. If Eddie had gone through the same things he had, what kind of flashes had come to him over the years? What pieces of Richie Tozier had stuck in his brain?

“Did you finish the special?”

“God no. It was terrible. I don’t know who the dipshit is that writes your jokes but he fucking sucks.”

Richie grinned from ear to ear. “I’m firing him the second I get back to New York.”

Eddie returned his smile with one of his own. “Good. You’re ten times funnier than any of the shit he writes anyway.”

Richie’s breath hitched. “Holy shit, Eds.”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes grew wide with concern.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever complimented me,” Richie joked, stepping toward Eddie with his arms outstretched, “Come here you little Smurf. I always knew you secretly cared about me.”

“Fuck that. I take it back!” Eddie tried to slink out of the way but Richie scooped him into his arms and crushed his entire body in a bear hug.

Eddie groaned as Richie squeezed him. “You’re gonna give me an asthma attack.”

“You don’t even have asthma, fuckhead.”

Eddie went still in his grasp, his squirming ceasing without warning. He was quiet for a long moment. Richie swallowed and eased his hold, worried he had squeezed too hard and hurt Eddie. But instead of slipping out of the hug when the vice of Richie’s arms loosened, Eddie reached up and clutched at Richie’s jacket, hugging him back. Richie’s heart skipped a beat.

“I missed you,” Eddie mumbled lowly, “Even though I didn’t know it, I fucking missed you.”

Richie felt breathless. His eyes burned, threatening to form tears he never planned on shedding. He tightened his arms around Eddie again.

“You’re such a sap,” he murmured, “It’s a miracle you got a woman to marry your wussy ass.”

Eddie slammed the toe of his shoe into Richie’s shin just hard enough to really make him feel it. “Fuck you.”

Richie smiled despite the pain ringing in his leg. “Fuck you too, Eds.”

They hugged each other tightly for a good thirty seconds before Richie pried himself away. “Would you finish packing your shit so we can get the hell out of here?”

Eddie stumbled backward. “Fuck. Yeah. Gimme like ten minutes and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“I’ll head down there now and make sure our psycho friends don’t summon the devil and get themselves murdered.”

“Good idea.”

Richie headed for the door only to pause in the doorframe when Eddie called his name. “What’s up?”

Eddie smirked, a familiar mischievous gleam in his eye that Richie had grown all too familiar with as a kid. “I probably should’ve told you this years ago but I fucked your mom.”

Richie rolled his eyes and flipped Eddie off. “Hurry up, asshole,” he grumbled before stepping out into the hall and leaving Eddie to finish packing.

As he made his way toward the staircase, Richie felt his chest swell with joy. Eddie had missed him just as much as he missed Eddie and, now that they were back together, they were joking with the same ease as they did when they were younger.

His entire adult life, Richie had wondered why he’d never fallen in love with anyone and now he understood why: Eddie Kaspbrak held his heart. Always had and always would.

***

Tagging: @justauthoring, @beepbeepstiney, @atownofeggs

#Tumblr changed it’s text format so I’m sorry for the long post #I couldn’t find the Read More tab???#Yikes #Hope y’all enjoy this though #Reddie #Richie/Eddie #Richie Tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #It Fanfiction #It (2017)#It Chapter Two #Reddie Fanfiction #My fic #It (2019)

202 notes · View notes

lindsaylouus · 4 years

Text

8 Maids a-Milking 🐄🐄🐄 (BTS - Jungkook)

A/N: Finally back on these, it’s been a hot minute, but let’s see what Christmas with Jungkook would entail!

It was Christmas Eve Eve. That makes sense, right? The 23rd of December was always reserved for you and Jungkook.

Two years ago, he’d surprised you with a short trip to Norway. You could finally see some snow at Christmas time, instead of grey clouds and rain. Last year, you went to Busan’s Christmas Tree Festival. You’ll never forget that beaming smile on his face; not only from being in his city, but from getting to share it with you.

This year would be no exception. You’d talked about where you’d both like to go and what you’d like to do, but you had both been so busy. The whole year seemed to have flashed before your eyes. You both had the best of intentions to organise something for your little Christmas tradition, but plans had yet to materialise.

After long days at work though, all you both wanted to do was chill.

You felt like you’d both had the same conversation a million times on those evenings, usually going a little like this:

‘Y/N, we need to plan something for before Christmas!’ Jungkook would suddenly remember, controller in hand, game suddenly paused, and a wide-eyed expression on his face.

Whilst lying spread out on the same sofa, legs over Jungkook’s lap and head hanging over the arm rest you’d look up from your phone.

‘Oh yeah! I can’t believe that’s the date already! We’ll definitely plan something. In fact, let me look now.’ You’d return to your phone with the absolute intention of getting trip inspiration.

However, five minutes later, you’d be adding to your endless ASOS wishlist and Jungkook would go back to beating the bad guys.

It was already December 19th, and you were heading back home from another tough day at work. You’d come to the conclusion that maybe a trip wouldn’t be on the cards this year. It was a sad thought, but so long as the two of you could see another Christmas through together, that’d be enough.

You turned the corner, key in hand, when you saw it.

What the heck is this?!

You stood there, mouth open, staring at the mini machine that was now parked in your driveway. You literally had to take a moment to make sure you’d remembered where you lived.

Nope, it was the right house.

At that moment, Jungkook swung open the front door and bounded up to you, like an excited little bunny.

‘Y/N! Look at that!!!’ He gestured toward the new vehicle outside your house.

‘I am, Jungkook...’ You were still a little dumbstruck, ‘umm, what exactly is it doing here? And where’s our car?’

‘Ah come on, Y/N, you know what a camper van looks like! And don’t worry, Jin has the car.’ His smile was unfading.

‘Wait, what? Camper.. Jin has the car?’ This jigsaw was not fitting together in your head at all.

‘Yeah, it took a little bargaining, but that’s OK. We just have to cook for him for the rest of the year, which is only another twelve days. Oh, and I have to let him win whenever we play games, which is totally not gonna hap..’

‘Jungkook!?’ You interrupted his little narrative.

You knew immediately that you’d been left out of yet another one of Jungkook’s Master Plans.

‘Here, let me explain...’ Jungkook took your bag, hurled it over his shoulder and gently taking your hand, led you inside the house.

After settling in your usual spots on the sofa, your boyfriend finally filled you in on some key information, and things were beginning to make some sense.

‘I just didn’t want us to miss out on spending some actual quality time together,’ Jungkook had explained, ‘we’ve been so busy and distracted, that even when we’re together, it’s felt like we’re apart.’ As sad as that was, it was true.

You curled your feet underneath you, and huddled into Jungkook’s side. He draped an arm over you and rested his head on yours.

‘No, I get it babe, I really do,’ you responded, ‘I just, never thought of camping, I guess.’

You had to admit, you were sceptical. Unlike your other half, you weren’t massively adventurous and despite how much you loved the outdoors, you’d only ever been camping once with your family.

It hadn’t been your favourite experience, and Jungkook knew this. He could clearly read your doubtful expression.

‘Don’t worry Y/N. That’s why I rented the van! No tents, no bugs and no cows to harass you.’ He couldn’t help but wink as he said this.

You weren’t impressed.

‘You still find that funny, don’t you?’ You sulked, but remained by his side, too comfy to move.

‘Anyone would find that story funny, Y/N, like seriously, anyone. But it’ll be an adventure, plus, I’ll be there to protect you from any rouge farm animals.’ He looked down and at you and bounced his eyebrows up and down.

You elbowed him gently in the ribs, but then preceded to tickle him.

‘Ah! Y/N.. st..stop!’ He forced words out between giggles.

‘I’m glad you find my childhood trauma so funny, Jeon Jungkook!’ You swung a leg round to clamber on top of him.

‘I’m s..sorry, I surrender!’ Jungkook flailed his arms trying to catch your hands in his, before you both almost fell off the sofa.

The ‘traumatic’ incident wasn’t exactly the worst thing you’d ever experienced, but it wasn’t the best either.

When you were little, your family went on a short camping trip. All was fine and dandy, until the second night, when a small gap was left in the zip up window of yours and your sister’s section of the tent.

You were suddenly awoken by, what you thought, was a terrifying beast breathing right in your face. You remembered being paralysed by fear, especially when the creature let out an almighty sneeze before retreating.

After further investigation by your parents, it turned out that it was just a rouge, and clearly curious, cow that had stuck its head through the zip opening.

Funny now, but when you were six, terrifying.

You’d had a weird feeling about camping ever since. Safe to say, you’d never humoured the idea since. And now Jungkook’s grand pre-Christmas plan was to do just that.

But were you going to turn him down? Of course not.

The 23rd rolled by and you both threw a couple days belongings into the van and set off for your ‘adventure’. Apparently Jungkook had found a site to park the van, where you could enjoy some of the countryside, before the hectic festivities began at home.

You cruised down roads and around bends heading to your destination. But you had to admit, even the drive there was so much fun. You blasted some Girl’s Day and had your own private karaoke session all the way there.

Now and then you’d just look at him. Smiling, relaxed and energetic, the same Jungkook you’ve loved for over two years. Despite the daily stresses of life that can make people drift apart, Christmas seemed to be the time of year in particular, that you both fell for each other all over again.

He caught you looking at him, whilst watching the road, he took your hand and kissed it, ‘I love you too.’

Dusk was gradually taking over the sky. A pastel painting of orange, yellow and pink.

You hopped out of the van and took a deep breath in. Maybe Jungkook was right about this. The air was so clean, you instantly felt happier.

Your boyfriend’s cooking skills were on point, as he set up a little fire to cook ramen for dinner, and not forgetting, marshmallows for dessert.

You couldn’t help but play Christmas songs on your phone as you both sat in fold out chairs, holding hands and watching the sun set.

Both of you talked more that evening, than you had the entire month. It was so refreshing to speak about things that you wanted to achieve in the new year, both together and independently.

Jungkook wasn’t always one to talk so openly about things that worried or burdened him. He was always more of a ‘suffer in silence’ kind of guy.

As his smooth voice echoed around you, you listened to his words, feeling unbelievable gratitude that he found solace in sharing things with you.

You had your head turned toward him, and you soon felt sleep take over uncontrollably, work and the travel had finally caught up with you. Your hand remained in Jungkook’s, where you wanted it to stay forever.

‘You’ve had such an impact on my life, you know?’ Jungkook began as he let his head fall back, he stared at the stars. ‘I never thought that I’d meet someone who I’d feel like this about. It’s kind of scary, right? But, in an amazing way. Like, I’m not afraid of the future, if you’re going to be there. I’m just afraid of messing up..’

He turned to you, to see your peaceful, sleepy self slumped in your chair.

He chuckled to himself, stroked your hand with his thumb and stared at the stars some more.

After a few moments he got up, and set the bed in the van for the night.

Maybe it was the slight noise he made, clambering around with sheets and pillows, maybe it was the music that continued to play through your phone, or maybe he was just in his own little world. Whatever the reason, he failed to hear the steps of something approaching your sleeping form.

You stirred, stretched and opened your heavy eyes ever so slowly..

‘AHHHHHHHH!!!’ You screamed, as you fell back in your chair, crashing to the ground.

Jungkook gambolled out the back of the van, to see you on the floor, ‘Y/N, what happen...’

As he looked up, he didn’t know whether to laugh or think that this was some elaborate prank.

A cow had appeared, what seemed, out of nowhere and had scared the living daylights out of you.

‘Seriouisly!!?? Seriously? Is this for real!?’ You shouted, still on the floor. Jungkook snapped out of his thoughts and helped you up. ‘What did I ever do to you, huh?’ You pointed at the cow, feeling like that six year old girl all over again.

Your tirade continued, ‘I don’t even eat beef, and you still harass me! Ugh, I literally cannot believe this.’

Jungkook, still not quite believing himself, that he was watching his girlfriend have a one sided argument with a cow, wanted to diffuse the situation.

He dramatically shielded you, putting himself in front of you, fists up, ‘Hey! Stop bugging my girlfriend, or you’ll have me to answer to! You got it?!’

Jungkook began to jump around, jabbing the air with his fists, making whooshing noises as he did so.

You burst out laughing, his humour making you realise how ridiculous this whole situation was. The cow, clearly unimpressed with the two of you, walked back off from wherever it’d come from.

After the whole ordeal, you were so ready for bed. Jungkook had set everything up to be as comfortable as possible. As you both snuggled up under a thick blanket, he began giggling uncontrollably.

‘Jungkook, really?’ You asked.

‘Y/N, you literally fell out of your chair,’ his giggling continued. It was too infectious, and you ended up joining in.

‘Think if we tell Jin this story, we won’t have to keep cooking for him?’ That just made him laugh even more.

‘Do you think it was the same cow?’ Jungkook asked.

‘I have no idea. I mean, it’d be a pretty old cow if it was. Probably wouldn’t be as stealthy as that one, it came out of nowhere!’

Once you’d calmed down and sleep began to softly consume the both of you, Jungkook murmured, ‘why did someone pull a cow’s udder?’

‘Huh?’ You really loved how random this dude was.

‘Who thought, let me see what this does?’ His eyes were closed, but his question was most likely serious.

‘Well, who ever they were, you should thank them. Because of them, we have banana milk.’ He smiled in response, but you could see how he was drifting further and further into slumber.

‘Jungkook,’ you whispered.

He moaned quietly with the last bit of energy he had.

‘I just wanted to let you know, that you couldn’t mess this relationship up, even if you tried. Even despite all the cow jokes I’m going to hear from you now,’ you chuckled softly to yourself, tracing his temple with your fingers.

He pulled you closer to him under the blanket and kissed you. There you both slept peacefully for the rest of the night, holding each other.

And not a cow in sight.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts fic #BTS jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fluff #Kpop Christmas #12 Days of Ficmas

25 notes · View notes

yurtletheturtlehenderson · 5 years

Text

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E3; Chapter Three, The Pollywog - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Dustin adopts a strange new pet, and Eleven grows increasingly impatient. A well-meaning Bob urges Will to stand up to his fears while Y/n’s powers grow stronger, bringing to light many questions about her past.

A/n: Another long chapter ahead, featuring a callback to book 1!

||3rd Person POV||

El laid still and unmoving on her bed, where she had been since her fight with Hopper. He had left hours ago and she had been left alone with her thoughts once more.

She gazed at her reflection in the TV set that was still in her room from the other day. She sat up, thinking. She wasn't in the mood to watch TV, again. But maybe she could look for Mike again?

Her eyes glazed over the bed frame and they spotted the blindfold, and she quickly tied it over her eyes. It wasn't until then that she realized it wasn't 3:15, he would still be in school.

El sighed, taking off the blindfold in defeat. Hopper's words from earlier popped into her head.

"You're gonna see him. Soon. And not just in that head of yours. You're gonna see him in real life."

So El decided would. She got up, grabbing one of the warmest pieces of clothing she could find. She ended up putting on an old flannel that Hopper had washed and given to her.

With timid steps, she crept out of her room and slowly towards the front door. She knew she wanted to this, she had been dreaming about doing this for months, but suddenly it all became very real to her.

She faced the many locks on the front door. They were there for her protection, of course, not for keeping her in. She recalled the day she had been brought to live at the cabin.

[FLASHBACK]

Hopper swung the old door open, and before stepping inside, began kicking the doorframe with each foot, shaking off all the snow. He stepped inside and discarded his jacket, while Eleven, repeated his actions by kicking the snow off her shoes.

She began looking around at the dusty and cluttered cabin. She could see the beams of light streaming in from the dust that littered the air.

"My granddad used to live here, long time ago." Hopper shut the front door, preventing any more cold air getting in, and discarded his hat. "I mainly just use it for storage now,"

El listened as she walked slowly through the cabin, trying to take it all in.

There were boxes everywhere, and cloth-covered all the windows so it made the cabin quite dark. There were cobwebs everywhere.

Hopper walked across the room and picked up one of the old boxes, and moved it. "Lot of history here,"

Sighing, he put his hands on his hips and shrugged.

"So, uh... what do you think?" He asked. "It's a work-in-progress. You know, it's, uh... it takes a little imagination, but uh... once we fix it up, it's gonna be nice. Real nice."

There was a small pause.

"This is your new home," he confirmed.

Hopper smiled kindly at Eleven and she looked at him, a new sense of hope blossoming in her chest.

"Home," she answered.

+++

Hopper quickly rifled through the box of old records he had stumbled upon until he finally found one that caught his eye and painted a grin on his face.

It was Jim Croce's "You Don't Mess Around With Jim"

He pulled it from the selection and showed it to Eleven, who had found a place to sit.

"All right, this," he pulled the record from its sleeve and put it on the record player. "this is music,"

Eleven looked at him skeptically, not knowing what to expect. Hopper put the needle on the record and the rhythmic sound of bass and drums began to play, Hopper snapped his fingers in tune with the music.

Eleven watched in stunned silence as the usually grumpy man began to bounce around with a large toothy grin.

"Uptown got its hustlers The Bowery got its bums"

Eleven's brows furrowed softly as she watched the man continued to bounce. His face was scrunched up now and he began to sway his body, something that confused Eleven even more.

"42nd Street got Big Jim Walker"

"All right,"

Hopper suddenly clapped his hands together and spoke, seemingly returning to normal.

"Let's get to work,"

"He's a pool-shootin' son of a gun Yeah, he's big and dumb As a man can come"

Eleven ripped the old cloth off the small bed, unintentionally whipping a thick cloud of dust in her face. She was sent into a coughing fit.

"But he's stronger than a country hoss"

Eleven was trying to sweep while Hopper cleared out the boxes. Having never used a broom before, she was attempting to sweep by pushing the broom forward, and in turn, wasn't making much progress.

"But he's stronger than a country hoss"

Hopper ripped the old and tattered pieces of cloth off one of the windows, soft morning light spilled into the room.

"And when the bad folks All get together at night"

Hopper glanced over in Eleven's direction and noticed her attempts at sweeping. He gently pulled her aside and asked for the broom.

"You know they all call big Jim 'boss' Just because"

Hopper pulled the broom back in swift motions, showing Eleven through demonstration. She watched carefully.

"And they say You don't tug on Superman's cape"

Hopper was knelt down on by the front door, as he screwed in various locks to the front door as an added precaution.

"You don't spit into the wind"

Eleven had now grabbed the broom from Hopper's hands, getting the idea. She began sweeping, just as he had and Hopper returned to the boxes.

"You don't pull the mask Off that old Lone Ranger"

El plopped down on the bed she previously been cleaning, bouncing up and down as tested the mattress. She looked to the tiny red lamp they had found and plugged in and began to feel more at home already.

"And you don't mess around with Jim"

Hopper had set up the old CB radio he had found, and was teaching Eleven morse code. This was how he would contact her from outside the cabin, and she would always have a guide to look at for reference.

"Well, outta South Alabama Come a country boy He said I'm lookin' for a man named Jim"

Hopper was now stocking the kitchen with groceries and kitchen supplies. Eleven had found an old jigsaw puzzle, and she happily got to work. It reminded her of Y/n, who had left Eleven some of her puzzles to play with while her and the boys were at school.

"I am a pool-shootin' boy My name is Willie McCoy"

Hopper cast a glance over his shoulder and saw how invested she was in the puzzle, and how much more relaxed she had become since they had arrived and he felt himself relax as well. He smiled to himself as he pulled the box of Eggos from the grocery bag and put them away in the kitchen.

"But down home they call me Slim"

Eleven repeated the sequence that Hopper had beeped in the CB radio, and he smiled at her. She smiled in return, knowing she had successfully translated the sequence.

"Yeah, I'm lookin' for The king of 42nd Street"

Eleven looked up from her puzzle, to see Hopper carrying in what she recognized to be a TV set and she watched hopefully as he set up.

"He drivin' a drop top Cadillac Last week, he took all my money And it may sound funny"

At night, Hopper had gathered some old mousetraps and made several adjustments to them.

"But I came to get my money back And everybody say, Jack, don't you know"

He knew he needed to take precautions to intruders or any possible threats. He needed an alarm system.

"You don't tug on Superman's cape You don't spit into the wind"

He attached bullet shells to each trap. Blowing away the piles of sawdust as he worked under the lamplight at the kitchen table.

"You don't pull the mask Off that old Lone Ranger"

He wound up the spool of wire around another nail in one of the many trees surrounding the cabin.

"And you don't mess around with Slim"

Eleven trailed curiously behind him as he carried the unwinding spool with him. Finally, he reached the tree with the mousetrap and softly took a seat on the ground, Eleven knelt down beside him.

Eleven was in charge of holding the wire cutters and he gestured for them, grabbing them and cutting the wire. She watched as he grabbed the end and rigged it into the mousetrap as he talked.

"Now, this is called a tripwire. It's like an alarm. You, uh, set it up like this. And then, anybody gets close, it's gonna make a loud noise like, uh, gunfire."

"Bang!" He said, and Eleven jumped back softly, causing him to chuckle.

He runs a hand over his face and he looked at her, growing serious.

"Those bad men aren't gonna find ya. All right? Not way the hell out here. We'll take some precautions. There's gonna be a couple ground rules."

[END OF FLASHBACK]

El recalled Hopper going over the ground rules with her. She could hear him still in her head. But she didn't care. She needed to see Mike.

She walked in front of the draped windows.

"Rule number one: always keep the curtains drawn."

El ripped the drapes aside, and pulled on the blinds, sending them straight up, sunlight pooled into the cabin.

"Rule number two: only open the door if you hear my secret knock."

Every lock on the door came undone with a series of clicks and El opened the door.

"And rule number three: don't ever go out alone, especially not in the daylight."

Her heart pounding, El stepped outside, into the fresh morning sun, and relished in the crisp autumn breeze. She quickly scanned the area, when her eyes found nothing but open space and an empty forest she knew it was safe.

She heard Hopper's voice once more in her head, and she cast one last glance at the cabin in hesitation.

"That's it. Three rules. I call 'em the, Don't Be Stupid Rules. Cause we're not stupid. Right?"

As El got further and further away, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest, increasing with every step. She stopped suddenly. Not in fear, nor had she changed her mind. But the tripwire. It was right where she remembered it. She glared at it defiantly.

"Not stupid."

She stepped over the tripwire and marched on.

||Reader's POV||

Dustin's trap swung open and we all leaned in to get a better look. My eyes bulged when I caught a glimpse at the slimy creature writhing around inside.

"His name is d'Artagnan." Dustin cooed, beaming at the gross slimeball.

I watched carefully as he took d'Artagnan from the trap and picked him up, still smiling warmly at him.

"Cute, right?"

"Uhh..." I trail off.

Dustin just rolls his eyes at me, and I hear Will give a weak chuckle.

"d'Artagnan?" Mike asks, ignoring our bickering.

"Dart for short."

"And he was in your trash?" Max asked, clarifying.

"Foraging for food."

"Awesome," I mumble sarcastically, less than enthusiastic at the thought that thing was crawling around outside my house.

"You wanna hold him?" He asked hopefully at Max.

She quickly shook her head several times. "No, no"

"He doesn't bite," Dustin insisted.

"I don't want to--" Before she could finish, Dustin had thrust Dart into her hands, giving her no choice but to hold him and she cringed.

"Oh, God, he's slimy!" She panicked and handed him to the closest person who happened to be Lucas.

He recoiled in disgust when Dart jumped into his hands.

"Ugh, he's like a living booger!" He was then passed to Will who gagged.

"Ugh, oh, God" I saw the look in his eyes, he was panicking and he turned to me, the closest person to him.

Oh no.

"No, I don't think that's such a goo-" Dart was writhing around in my hands and my face scrunches up in disgust.

Lucas and Max were right, he was slimy and he did feel like a living booger and my stomach twisted in knots. I felt like I could hurl.

I tensed up, and suddenly Dart let out a horrible screech that hurt my ears and it startles me, making me yelp and jump back in fear dropping Dart.

There was a scatter of worried responses.

Mike was able to catch Dart, and he is the only one out of us who is able to tolerate him. He picks him up to examine him and Dustin lightly scolds me and then reluctantly asks me if I'm okay.

"I'm fine," I grumbled.

"What is he?" Mike asks.

"My question exactly," Dustin replied.

He got out some books from his back and plopped them on the table.

"At first, I thought he was some type of pollywog," he began.

"Pollywog?" Max wondered.

"It's another word for tadpole." He clarified. "A tadpole is the larval stage of a toad."

"I know what a tadpole is," she deadpanned, and I chuckled slightly.

We shared a slight smirk.

"All right, then you know that most tadpoles are aquatic, right?"

He opened up on of the books to a bookmarked page, I glanced at it and I made out the words 'Frog Life Cycle' from upside down.

"Well, Dart, he isn't. He doesn't need water."

"Yeah, but aren't there nonaquatic pollywogs?" Lucas asked.

"Terrestrial pollywogs? Yep. Two to be exact."

He opened up another bookmarked page from a different book.

"Indrana semipalmata" he flipped to another page. "And the Adenomera andreae. One's from India, one's from South America. So how did one end up in our trash?" He concluded.

"Maybe some scientists brought it here, and it escaped?" Max wondered.

"Yeah, and no offense Dustin, but we don't know anything about him. And you just found him, how do we know he's completely safe?"

Before anyone can answer my question, Mike speaks up, his attention on Dart who Dustin let roam around inside the barrier of the coils from his trap.

"Do you guys see that?"

We all lean in to get a closer look. Mike was right, on either side, just above the base of his tail, something began... shifting.

'Okay, ew'

"It almost looks like something is moving inside of it," I said.

Mike adjusted the lamp so it was hovering over Dart. And once again, he screeched, exactly like he had before, startling all of us. I start to panic when he crawls over the barrier of coils and jumps off the desk. Dustin quickly catches him.

"Whoa. It's okay. It's okay. I gotcha little guy. I know you don't like that. It's okay" I stared at my brother in shock and confusion.

Lucas and I shared an uncomfortable glance.

"And there's another thing," Dustin said, perking up. "Reptiles, they're cold-blooded. Ectothermic, right? They love heat, the sun. Dart hates it. It hurts him."

My brow had quirked when I heard this.

'Heat. Of course.'

It happened again. It must have. When I held Dart I must have burned him or something by accident and that's why he reacted.

'Shit, I really need to learn how to control that.'

I tried ridding my brain of the thought and leaned in to get a better look at Dart as my brother spoke.

"So, if he's not a pollywog or a reptile..." I urged.

"Then I've discovered a new species."

I looked around as I took in the information. However, I noticed that Will had an odd look in his eye. I was about to ask him with the bell rang, startling us all. The six of us grab our stuff and file put into the hallway.

"We gotta show him to Mr. Clarke," Lucas suggests, and I nod my head.

"No, what if he steals my discovery?"

"He's not gonna steal your discovery," Mike states.

"Yeah, I really don't think he would," I add.

"You know. I'm thinking about calling it Dustonius Pollywogus."

I laugh. "I'm sorry, the what now?"

"Dustonius Pollywogus. What do you think?" He turns, asking Max.

She laughs and shakes her head. "I think you're an idiot."

"You know, when I become rich and famous for this one day, don't come crawling back saying 'Oh, my God, Dustin, I'm so sorry for being mean to you back in 8th grade. Oh, my God'."

I laugh. "Yeah, I don't think you have to worry about that."

||3rd person POV||

Joyce was more than happy to be surprised by her boyfriend Bob at work. He had shown up to work to surprise her and the two were currently enjoying a pleasant lunch on a bench outside.

"Last night was fun."

"Mmm-hmm." Joyce agreed with a warm smile on her face.

She hadn't felt this happy in years. Bob always knew how to make her happy.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped anything," Bob spoke, referring to his previous suggestion of moving.

Joyce was shocked to hear this. "No! No, you didn't." She assured.

He weakly smiled. "Okay. I mean... I... I like you so much. Not just you, everything that comes with you. Your family, your boys."

Joyce felt as if her heart would burst. She smiled at the man as he continued.

"And I hope it's not wishful thinking, but... I kinda feel like I'm breaking through with them. Not so much Jonathan. He's a tough cookie to crack, but..."

She smiled and nodded along. "Yeah,"

"But with Will, I don't know, I feel like we're connecting."

She grinned at the man. "He likes you, too."

Bob smiled hopefully at this. "Yeah?"

"Mmm-hmm. I can tell."

Bob smiled to himself and reached for his Dr. Pepper. He popped open the drink and it fizzled. His mind quickly wandered to the video he had found that morning and he suddenly grew nervous. Bob knew he wasn't in trouble of course, but he hated making her upset. But he knew she needed to know.

"Oh, there was... something else I was gonna mention, but... and it's not a big deal at all, but...I just noticed this morning that my JVC was a little dinged up."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Your what?"

"The video camera."

Joyce seemed taken aback. She felt bad that his camera was shaken up but she knew that didn't sound like something the boys would lie about. Not her boys.

"Oh,"

Bob nodded his head. "Yeah. It still works fine and everything. I just...I went back and watched the tape... there were some older kids picking on Will."

Joyce set down her lunch immediately, and her expression hardened. "What?"

Bob carried on with a wince. "They scared him."

"Who were they? Were they the Zimmerman brothers again?"

"Um, I don't know. They were wearing masks or sort of makeup and... Maybe. They were the right age."

Joyce looked away and rage-filled her system. "I'll kill them. I swear to God, I will... I will kill them." She scathed.

Bob looked at her with adoration and pride. He shook his head slightly. "That's what I love about you. You punch back."

"And, I know this does not make any of that or what happened okay, but if it's any consolation, that friend of his, Y/N right?"

She nodded, unsure of where he was going.

"Well, she cursed them out something awful. I think she was ready to actually punch them." Bob let out a weak chuckle as he spoke.

Joyce felt a sense of pride. "Good. They have it coming to them."

She shook her head, still fuming from the knowledge.

Bob chuckled. "I was never really one to put up a fight. I struggled a lot like Will when I was a kid. With bullies. It's ones like us, that don't punch back, that people really take advantage of, you know? Really, rub your nose in it. Just a little bit more."

Joyce fell silent as she listened to Bob. She couldn't recall him being this passionate about something and she was listening, captivated.

"That's why, that's why it makes it all the more special. People like me, and Will. We are fortunate enough to find people in our lives that punch back. Like you, and Y/N. Will and I, we are some of the luckiest fellas on earth, cause we are fortunate enough to have people like you and Y/N around, and Will has you both. And me?"

Joyce smiled, and she felt all the anger melting away as Bob continued.

"Look at me now! I get to date Joyce Byers! Ha!"

A laugh escaped her lips and she smiled, leaning forward and pecking him on the lips.

And the two enjoyed the rest of their lunch together in peace.

+++

Tag List: @dickkwad @aimee-lucass @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa@miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely

DM me if you want to be added!

98 notes · View notes

entomancy · 4 years

Text

Fic: A Dawning realisation

Another worldbuilding one-shot. A different night, and another incident for Denis Joplin, Sheriff of Vegas Below - but this time it’s much worse than mutant vampiric housecats.

Title: A Dawning realisation (Wattpad) Setting: VTM-with-the-serial-numbers-filed-off. Also, Vegas. Warnings: Gore. Words: 1912 Summary: It’s three in the morning, and there have been at least two murders. You’d think that would be the worst part of the night.

There certainly was an impressive amount of blood.

Ducking under the hastily-installed barrier of crime tape – and feeling a shiver in his fingertips mirrored behind his eyelids as the glamour fell away – Denis Joplin found himself stopping short at the revealed scene. This far into Fremont and two alleys deep behind a derelict convenience store, it’d be reasonable to expect at least something nasty lurking around the dumpsters. But this was way beyond even cynical assumptions.

The alleyway itself was less of a single passage than a collision of other spaces – one leading north, half-blocked off by the rusting carcass of a long-fallen fire escape; one going west that seemed to be where pallets came to die; and a sagging hole in the southern wall that opened into more rat-runs beyond. Garbage was ankle-deep, except for on the pathways newly torn by desperate footfalls and scrabbling fingers. One body – still at least roughly the shape it should be, except for its angles – lay cradled by the bashed-in side of a dumpster; a gory, inverted waterfall of crimson splattered up the wall behind it. The head lolled against its uneven chest, barely held on by naked tendons and raw flesh, and the jaw had been torn clear away.

The second body was more… dispersed.

Yet even that wasn’t the strangest part. Sure, it looked like somebody had tried to pressure-wash the walls with arterial spray, but what really drew the eye were the weird, congealed blobs of black-scarlet scattered for a storey up the walls. They looked like something out of a particularly nasty fungus documentary: glistening and swollen with half-solid bubbles of wet scab. There were a lot of them, too.

Je-sus. It had been one of the bike-lads that called this in, and Joplin made a mental note to check in on the kid later. Hell of a thing for someone to walk in on.

Of course, some of them were more used to this kind of shit than others.

“Bad night,” he said, partly in greeting, as his attention shifted to the other upright figure on the scene: clad in baggy forensics white, squatting down over a scattering of viscera with a camera in her gloved hands. She took the picture and made a note before straightening up and turning to him. One neat eyebrow arched as she pulled her mask down, revealing pale lips set into a tight line.

“Worse for some,” Dawn replied, sweeping a disapproving gesture around at the alley. “Honestly. I have fourteen active cases right now; the last thing I need is someone breaching like a Screamfest wet dream all over my Thursday night.”

Joplin hesitated – but this was Dawn, after all. Dawn Miller: Senior Forensic Investigator for the City of Las Vegas (Above and Below), five foot three of permanently-caffeinated brunette; most usually found within a baffling subterranean lair of sterile worktops and extremely expensive scientific equipment that just so happened to have no external windows whatsoever.

“Definitely not just someone with delusions of Dahmer?” he asked carefully. Dawn sighed as she placed her camera back down then pulled out a small laser pointer, with a hint of dramatic flourish. The tiny red light danced like a forensic firefly across the stained walls, sketching and circling in after-images.

“It’d be very difficult to get this sort of pattern any other way. Now, tearing open an artery will do that.” She gestured towards the crimson mark that was a bit higher than the dumpster-corpse’s head would have been. Then she jabbed a latex-cased finger further up, towards one of the dripping clots wedged against a drainpipe.

"That? Not so much. I mean, I’ve got my suspicions about your blood pressure, Sheriff, but I figure even you’d have difficulty getting that far up on irritation alone.”

Joplin looked back down to the neatly-circled sections of corpse, tilting his head this way and that as he tried to work out what each bit had been.

“Any clear weapons?”

“Not lying around.” Dawn pointed at a piece of arm. “I need to get this all cleaned up to be sure of anything.”

“Thinking teeth or claws?” Joplin pushed, and recieved a cold stare in return.

“All I’ll say before he’s on the slab is that it took significant force to do some of this. Arms don’t pop off Barbie-style for just anyone – present company notwithstanding.”

Joplin snorted.

“I ain’t a wookie, y’know.”

Finally, a flash of amusement made it onto Dawn’s face. It was probably possible to be a science type without being able to spot a Star Wars reference at forty feet, but Joplin sure hadn’t met many. Hell, she’d probably seen them on release.

“Yub-nub, Sheriff. Anyway,” she continued, and her brows dipped again as she pulled a fresh swab out of her pocket. “I’ve put this off for long enough.”

She uncapped the plastic tube and Joplin caught The change in her eyes. It wasn’t in anything so crass as pigment or reflection, but nonetheless the sheen there had altered, struck through now with very familiar sharpness. She undid her mask, placing it carefully down on top of her kit, and moved over to the bloody wall with the swab raised.

When he’d first heard they had a vampire in forensics, Joplin had imagined she would employ a much more gruesome methodology. He hadn’t figured that maybe she’d want to lick an alleyway wall about as much as he did.

Dawn swiped the blood, then brought it back and pressed the stained cotton tip into the roof of her mouth, accompanied by an expression of contemplative disgust. It had to go past the teeth, she’d told him once. Something about how the whole vitae situation actually worked.

After a moment she withdrew the swab, slotted it into her clinical waste pot, and spat in after it.

“Yup, that was live when it hit. Initial attack either non-feeding, or the idiot’s never tried to drink a shaken soda. But that…” she trailed off, looking up at the weird blobs overhead, and her lips twisted again. “Give me a leg up, will you Sheriff?”

Joplin obliged, cupping his big hands together into a platform, and Dawn hoisted herself up onto a level with one of the congealed lumps. Swab – suck – and this time she gagged, clapping the back of her hand over her mouth as she did so. Joplin quickly put her down. She threw the swab away like it had burned and began aggressively gargling bottled water. Once the dry heaves had stopped she looked back up at him, wiping at her eyes.

“Yuck. I mean, yes, obviously, but – yuck. No, that was dead on impact. I’d say refractory emesis, but that’s – ” she hesitated again, glancing between each blob “- a lot. Even if they were trying to dry them out, just eyeballing it, I’d say there’s enough blood mass here for a minimum of two victims. And this guy might be a jigsaw, but I’d say we’ve got all the bits for him.”

Joplin sighed, and leaned back against a cleanish piece of wall. So there might be another body to find tonight. Which meant someone on a frenzy, because nobody needed two-and-a-post-spray-remainer’s worth of blood in one night for any sort of legal reason. And someone with their faculties intact wouldn’t be out massacring by the bins.

Dawn pulled out her second kit: the much smaller, black metal box that had neither insignia or visible method of opening, and blew gently on its surface. Faint patterns swirled under her breath before the lid popped and she drew out a different set of vials, and a set of small, oddly-shaped tools.

“Taking the specialist samples,” she muttered, half to herself as she selected one and crouched back over the remains. “Because of course, developing anything field ready that isn’t ‘suck on the corpse’ is never at the top of the funding lists, is it?”

Joplin shrugged.

“Don’t ask me. I ain’t sure what any of you lab goblins do with half the stuff you collect; I ain’t gonna notice if you take a few more weird prints.”

“Liar.” She didn’t look up from whatever she was doing at the head end, but Joplin could hear a smile around her words. He let her get on with it, instead returning his attention to the utter mess of a scene. There was a time when this would have upset him a lot more – and he knew this sort of thing tended to get to Mitch in ways the cheery lad was crap at dealing with – but this wasn’t just the normal revulsion and muted horror that settled on him now. Something about the sheer splatter of the scene was unpleasantly familiar.

He waited until Dawn had clicked the lid back on her little box of vampire tricks before he spoke again.

“Got a theory for me?”

“Always have a theory, Sheriff,” Dawn replied, stowing the box. “The trick is finding evidence.”

“So… if I were to say ‘Bel–’” Joplin started, but cut off as Dawn held up a finger warningly. The look she gave him was old; far, far older than the ever-stilled thirty-ish of her face.

“I’ve confirmed a potential breach. I’ve got samples. You’ve got another body to find, and I’ve got analysis to do. Then, and only then, will I stick my neck out over that block. Clear?”

“Y’always are,” Joplin conceded, and let out a long breath as he felt some of the sudden tension drop. “Want the rest of the crew in?”

“Oh hell yes. I’m not scraping this all up by myself.”

Joplin left her to it. He gave the nod as he passed the glamoured tape, signalling to the waiting figures that they could go in. Dawn had finished the secret-squirrel bit of her work, and the crew understood enough about trouble Below to know what they were dealing with. He made his way back to the car and slid in, resting his head back against the seat as he let out a long sigh.

Dawn was cagey – had to be, given who was not-breathing down her neck – but she’d said enough. Frenzy either meant an orphan, a bastard or a break, and none of them were exactly appealing prospects. Joplin drummed his fingers together, considering. Orphan was unlikely – the clan-pires were real careful these days about their new bloods, and the loony market was still depleted from last time someone tried something Big And Stupid. Bastard seemed most likely, since there was always some little fucker unable to keep it in their gums.

The idea of it being a break…

Joplin felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and tried to shake off the unease. Okay, so there had been a familiarity to the scene, but it wasn’t like a signature. Brutal, sure, but too messy. Too much feeding. Any feeding, really. But the way the bodies had been torn apart like that – that, that was setting off unpleasant shivers of recognition.

Not a break, then. Not that particular potential nightmare and the shattering Breach it would entail, but… something related?

Bastard’s the most likely. Jesus-Christmas; can he even sire anymore?

Joplin stared out through the windshield, at the distant fever-dream glitter of Vegas’ early morning, and felt the ghost of a few old wounds twinge.

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

He was going to have to question fucking Belton.

#Entofic #Vampire Nonsense #urban fantasy #The Vegas Masquerade #blood

2 notes · View notes

stereksecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @argento-capitani!

I think I managed to get everything you wanted in here. I didn’t have as much time to go over it as I’d like, being a back-up gift-maker, but I worked really hard on it so I hope I managed create something you’ll enjoy. Sorry I couldn’t fit in any smut, it just felt wrong to write this fluffy sweet turning point to their relationship and immediately slap naughtiness in there lol Hope you like anyway :D

Story Note: For the purpose of this story, Kate didn’t seduce Derek to get to the Hales, she was just some random psycho hunter that wanted the Hales gone. Also I know the TW writers played with Derek’s age so much it’s unrecognisable but he’s only about 2-3 years older than Stiles here.

Read on AO3

******

Out of Darkness

Looking back, Stiles thought he was probably the worst person ever to exist. That night Derek and Laura’s entire world had fallen to pieces, had literally burned down while they watched and Stiles? Stiles could only recall it as his world began again.

Stiles had awoken to voices in the night, had made his way down the stairs in his flannel pyjama pants and worn, too-small Batman t-shirt only to find them standing in his hallway. They carried with them the smell of smoke and tired, lost expressions that made them look even younger than they were, Laura with a blanket round her and Derek with his dad’s deputy jacket too large on his fifteen-year-old shoulders.

At nearly 3 o’clock in the morning, it was well passed the time his dad had originally said he’d be home and his dad looked almost as tired and broken as the teenagers in his front hall. He apologised again to the babysitter Stiles had insisted earlier he was far too old to need and when he closed the front door behind her, he hesitated just for a moment before turning, as if he needed just an extra ounce of strength before tackling the next part of his incredibly long night. He looked up the staircase, to where Stiles stood frozen with the last vestiges of sleep still leaving him and offered him a sad, reassuring smile.

“Stiles? Make up the spare bedroom for Laura and Derek would you? They’re going to be staying with us for a while.”

After doing as he was told, Stiles came back downstairs, only to find his dad had moved to the dining room with Laura. He hesitated on the final step, hearing snatches of their conversation, whispers about hunters and wolfsbane, about unnatural fire and how their uncle got out, how he tore ‘them’ to pieces before he fell into a coma from his wounds.

His father hesitated and Stiles edged round the corner to just glimpse his him reaching across the dining table, no doubt to cover Laura’s hand with his in that familiar comforting gesture. His face was warm and weary as he assured her no one would ever find out.

Stiles’s eyes went wide, his heart skipping a beat as he moved forward, but as he did so, he caught sight of the figure slumped down in a huddle against the wall. Stiles cast a single glance at what was happening inside the dining room and then turned fully toward Derek. His head was tipped back against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest and although he was a good couple years older than Stiles he looked impossibly young.

For the first time ever, Stiles ignored the biting pang of curiosity and lowered himself on his haunches in front of the boy who had just lost everything. “Hey,” he said softly, his hand hovering, hesitating before covering Derek’s forearm, which flinched at his touch. It was grimy, covered with soot, dried sweat and soil and Stiles was struck by the idea of horrors clinging to him even now. He still smelled of smoke.

Remembering the way hospital smell had clung to him after his mother had passed, Stiles said softly, “C’mon, let’s get you clean, huh?”

It was like Derek was catatonic, he was dragged far too easily to his feet and guided into the bathroom upstairs, eased down onto the edge of the bath while Stiles soaked a washcloth in warm water in the sink. He hesitated, not even thirteen-years-old and staring down at this strange boy who he only vaguely knew from just being around town, but knowing he just had to help him.

“I’ve uhhh, got a new shirt you can wear? It’s my dad’s so it’s probably gonna be big on you but it’s clean and…” He bit the inside of his lip, then carefully pulled Derek’s filthy shirt off him and tossed it into the empty tub. Still Derek didn’t really react, just let himself be moved while staring vacantly off to the side.

Stiles lifted the washcloth out of the sink and squeezed out the excess before lifting it to dab at Derek’s cheek. As soon as the damp cloth touched his skin Derek snapped. His head wrenched to the side and his eyes glared bright gold, his face morphing into something otherworldly, with fangs bared as he snarled a wordless warning.

Stiles flinched, hand frozen, still clutching the washcloth as he stared, as Derek studied his face with all the fear and pain of a wounded, cornered dog. Just like a beast, the fight was drawn out of those emotions rather than viciousness and when Stiles didn’t move to hurt him his unnaturally furrowed, hairless brow twisted in confusion, his piercing yellow-gold eyes studying Stiles with wary confusion. He stared about him, before looking at Stiles again, whose mind was racing as he struggled to understand what he was seeing.

“What are you?” he breathed, voice quiet and heavy with all the wonder and horrified awe of a child facing something too unearthly for anyone else to believe. He tried to piece together what he had glimpsed of the conversation between Laura and his father but none of it quite made sense. It was like a jigsaw with some pieces missing.

Yet still, whatever Derek was, there was still the glistening light of a scared orphaned boy in his eyes, whatever colour they were.

After a long moment in which neither of them moved but Derek seemed to calm a little, Stiles, with his heart still pounding, reached forward. Derek flinched as the washcloth touched his cheekbone but didn’t pull away when Stiles began to wash the grime from his cheek; ash and soil and God knew what else streaked with dried tears. He watched Stiles with uncertain, distrustful eyes as Stiles cleaned his face and neck, even the worst of the dirt from his hair without a proper shower or bath.

Stiles met his gaze with the raw hopefulness only a child could harbour in the face of danger. Stiles was both afraid and awestruck all at once and by the time he had Derek’s entire upper body clean, his face had morphed back into that of the scared fifteen-year-old he’d first seen downstairs.

“There you are,” Stiles said gently, the same way his mom had done when she’d scrubbed him down in the bath after he’d gotten particularly dirty. He smiled and Derek blinked as if surprised by his gentleness. Before either of them could say another word, there was movement in the hall behind him and Stiles looked up at the doorway to see his dad and Laura standing there.

“Well,” his dad said wearily, swiping a hand over the back of his neck the same way Stiles did. “I guess you’ve got lots of questions, huh, kiddo?”

Slowly, Stiles stood, glancing between the three gathered in the modest sized bathroom. He had never felt so far from the muzzy place of sleep in his entire life. He’d woken up to find not only had his dad come home hours later than he’d intended, but it had apparently been because he was somehow saving these two almost-kids from a horror Stiles couldn’t even begin to comprehend. He didn’t understand but he knew something monumental had happened here.

“What are you?” he asked Laura this time, feeling incredibly young and small with his mussed hair, bare feet and worn pyjamas.

Laura drew in an unsteady, weary breath and moved to her brother’s side. She let her hand slide over his shoulder, which she gripped as if in solidarity or perhaps for strength, Stiles wasn’t sure.

“We’re werewolves.”

Stiles blinked, feeling his dad’s eyes on him and he floundered for a moment in shocked silence before saying simply. “Oh.”

Now he definitely had a lot of questions.

When the insurance policy money came through, for the house, for the lives that were lost, Laura and Derek still didn’t leave and Stiles? Stiles hated himself but he was glad for it. He loved his dad, and he was a good dad but he was a good Sheriff’s Deputy too and so sometimes, inevitably, Stiles felt lonely.

Stiles wasn’t lonely with Derek and Laura there. It was so messed up but sharing breakfast and dinner with them and his dad, Laura giving him a lift to school at the same time as Derek and even the hesitant, quiet conversation he managed to coax out of Derek with his constant talking, it all felt good. The house was a little cramped for four, with the basement revamped as a suite for Laura after a time, but it was good. It was family.

He was an awful person, wasn’t he?

Right from the start, Laura had said that he was good for Derek, bringing him out of his shell when his instinct told him to retreat and curl in on himself like a dying leaf. His dad, meanwhile had said the same but in reverse.

Derek was older and ‘cooler’ certainly but since Stiles’s mother had fallen ill, he’d been instilled with this need to care for people. So while he followed Derek around and annoyed the hell out of him with his questions, by chattering and showing him his DC figures and insisting he play Mario Kart with him ‘just one more time,’ he also insisted he eat more and go to bed earlier and that he was always crankiest by the full moon, so he needed to stock up on cookies and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

He couldn’t lie, keeping such a momentous secret did make him feel important, but also, the years went by and Derek and Laura still didn’t leave and somewhere along the line the Stilinski house became their house, Laura became like his sister and Derek…he became Stiles’s best friend.

After a time, Laura eventually felt ready to return to college and of course, Derek followed in her footsteps when his time came, still quiet but emboldened by the strength of support he’d found in the home they’d made together. They returned every holiday and when they finished, it was the Stilinski house they came back to, to set up their futures from.

It was when Stiles came home from his first Thanksgiving weekend at college that it all changed.

Stiles left his dorm building, head in his backpack as he checked again for his phone charger when the low purr of a familiar car pulled up on the sidewalk in front of him. He blinked and had to double-take at the sight of the Camaro, because he’d told them the Jeep was fine to make the drive home but then the window rolled down and Stiles’s breath caught. Not only was it not Laura at the wheel, but Derek looked…different.

It was ridiculous, it’d only been a few months since they’d last laid eyes on each other but Derek had let a short, stubbly beard grow in across his jaw, his expression intense and older and not the boy Stiles had known but a man. It struck him with the sudden impact of a freight train so that Stiles was frozen in place until Derek caught sight of him and his face just lit up. His Derek was still there, just grown. How had he not realised that had happened? It was logical, wasn’t it? He was almost three years older than Stiles, who would be nineteen in April. They were both older and somehow Stiles hadn’t noticed.

Until now. And judging by the way a few of the last Thanksgiving stragglers had stopped to stare, they’d noticed too.

“Hey,” Derek said as Stiles forced his legs into action, feeling oddly dazed as he reached the passenger door and climbed in. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

“You definitely did,” Stiles managed, if a little breathlessly. Derek cast him a curious, sideways glance but didn’t comment on the little rush of his heartbeat or the charge to the air between them, not on the entire ride home. They talked, they laughed like they always had and Stiles would’ve said that it was like they’d never been apart but it was different, so different and he couldn’t help but sneak glances at Derek as he drove. He licked his dry lips and just tried to be normal.

The night was unseasonably warm as Stiles stepped out onto the porch after a traditional Stilinski-Hale Thanksgiving dinner. He still wore a sweatshirt though as he lowered himself onto the step beside Derek, silently handing him a bottle of elderflower soda that Derek preferred to the foul taste of beer which he couldn’t even get a buzz from. Stiles said nothing though, just sitting beside Derek in companionable silence as he nursed his own bottle.

Derek always came out back to think about his family on the holidays, it was as much of a tradition as the turkey, Derek’s way of remembering them and Stiles always seemed to find his way out here beside him. He couldn’t bear the thought of Derek out here alone, even with his skin prickling with the newly discovered charge to their connection, which had been fed with accidental touches and close proximity all evening, but at the same time it felt wrong to speak until Derek invited him to, so he waited, content with their companionable silence.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked eventually, seeming to breathe in and come back to himself, having paid his respects to his family’s memory, so unlike the broken, lost boy he’d been all those years ago in Stiles’s front hall. “You seem wired, more wired than usual.” His lips quirked at the corners and Stiles felt his face heat.

“Yeah I…” he swallowed, staring out at the dark yard behind them and the trees beyond where the light from the house couldn’t reach. The moon wasn’t full but it was huge in the sky, its light filling the darkness with a soft pale glow that felt almost warming. It glinted off the treetops and drew Stiles’s eyes in, lulling him into a place of calm as he struggled to put his feelings into words. What were the words for suddenly realising you were attracted to your best friend?

“It just feels different, I guess,” he admitted softly.

“What does?”

Stiles swallowed. “Me and…you.”

Slowly, Derek reached out on the porch between them, letting his fingers slide between Stiles’s on the wood there. He dragged his fingertips along the length of Stiles’s fingers, caressing each tip before tracing down the other side to touch the next. In the end, he let his hand cover Stiles’s completely and squeezed. “Yeah,” he whispered, voice as husky and soft as Stiles’s had been. “It does feel different.”

Just like that, they watched the slow, imperceptible travel of the moon across the dark sky, shifting slightly closer, testing the closeness. After a long silence, Stiles turned his head to the side, eyes searching Derek’s. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Even without the biting cold of the usual weather this time of year, there was still an evening chill as they walked leisurely through the trees. They were thin enough together that Stiles still had a decent enough view of where he was putting his feet just by moonlight, though he knew Derek wouldn’t let him break his leg.

They walked closely together, unselfconscious and Stiles thought of when his dad had been caught at work, unable to take him to see the new Star Wars movie and so Derek had grudgingly volunteered. He’d taken him for ice-cream afterward without even blinking, even though the movie had ended late, even though he’d been older and ‘cooler’ and the waitress had smiled flirtatiously at him and Stiles had been a goofy kid.

They’d walked close together then too, shoulder-checking each other every now and then as they recalled the high points of the movie. Stiles remembered feeling so happy, buzzing with it and he felt the same now, but the buzz was low and constant like a humming heat rather than the erratic, frazzled excitement of a firecracker. Now instead of leaping onto Derek’s back, hyped up from ice-cream and demanding to get a piggyback ride he was far too old for, he felt a giddy, shy sort of current.

Tentatively, he edged his hand sideways to brush his knuckles against Derek’s in a feather-light caress. Derek’s nudged his back in answer, before threading their fingers together. He was so warm, holding onto Stiles, linking them together as easy as breathing.

“I don’t think you know what it was like for me that night,” Derek said softly, tipping his head skyward as he sought out the moon. “I’d lost everything and you just…handled things, like it was so easy for you. You saw me, the wolf in me and you weren’t afraid, you didn’t see a monster. You took care of me, even though I was older.” He hesitated. “You brought me out of myself. Made me feel things again and then I…”

He stopped then, turning his head to look at Stiles. The moonlight caught his eyes with a glistening shine, casting an ethereal light across his face and Stiles’s breath caught.

“And then when I saw you again I realised…” His fingers squeezed a bit tighter around Stiles’s but his gaze didn’t drift for a moment. “…you’re not that kid anymore, you’re…you’re a man and my feelings have become something else.”

Stiles blinked, inhaling shakily as his heart pounded and Derek’s words rushed through his head and instead of struggling through his thoughts for a reply that would utterly fail to match up with Derek’s heartfelt honesty, he leaned in. Their eyes locked, their mouths hesitated a breath apart, like they had both been caught on the lingering thin thread of realisation that things were about to change. Any doubt was blasted away by the perfect sense it all made.

Their lips met, soft, brief, parting enough for them to check each other’s responses, if they had felt the same spark. Stiles couldn’t help the breathy, nervous chuckle that tumbled over his lips unbidden, or the little accompanying smile. Derek gave a little growl of his own fond amusement, before snatching him up and bringing their lips together more ardently.

It was slow but deep, a languid massage of damp lips and searching, coy tongues, vibrating with half-smothered chuckles and soft little moans. It felt like sinking into warm comforting heat and Stiles was melting with it.

When he drew back, giddy with it all and smiling so hard his face hurt, Stiles whispered out, “chase me.”

Derek’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Chase me!” Stiles stole another kiss before bouncing back a few steps, as if to coax Derek into a run.

“We haven’t done that since I was fifteen,” Derek laughed but when Stiles bounced back a few more steps, he advanced and Stiles spun and darted back the makeshift trail they’d travelled down. He was as inelegant and all-limbs when he ran as he had been back then and he felt the same timeless exhilaration. He tore across the soft leaves, hearing Derek behind him and leaping the loose tree roots.

Instead of heading back to the house though, he turned off the trail, his heart pounding hard and fast against his ribcage. The ground gave way to a slight incline and his steps staggered as he struggled to maintain pace and remain upright. A growl sounded behind him and his breath caught, just as he tripped and made a beeline for the floor.

A hard body crashed into his side, dragging him sideways off the path toward the ground until he landed with an “ooof” against the hard body that had saved him from his clumsiness. They rolled slightly down the incline of the ground, scuffing up dirt and leaves and Stiles was laughing again as they did so. Derek answered with an ethereal growl, like an excited beast riled up from the chase and when Stiles stared up at him from the ground, Derek caught his rapid breaths with his tongue.

The kisses were faster now, fuelled by urgency in absence of the tentative newness. Blood was pounding, driving them into a breathless frenzy on the leaf-strewn bed they’d made and Stiles couldn’t help the noise of need he emitted when Derek dragged his voracious kisses down across the point of his chin to his throat.

Stiles let his fingers drag down Derek’s back, let them skitter sideways under the hem of his sweatshirt to scrape his nails across Derek’s side. Derek writhed at the ticklish touch, gasping into Stiles’s open mouth and arching without volition. He hauled Stiles backward with him until he was sitting upright with Stiles astride his hips.

Stiles bent his head to claim Derek’s mouth again, hands cupping his jaw, thumbs brushing the stubble there and enjoying the rasp of it as Derek’s cupped the back of his head. They tightened there, holding him close with shaky strength as if Derek were afraid he would vanish entirely if he let go.

Kiss-bruised and flustered, they were eventually driven back to the house by the inevitable evening chill, that was warm by November standards but still not comfortable enough to be rolling around in the woods. What he didn’t bargain for was Laura waiting for them both on the back porch with a cup of coffee in hand and a Cheshire Cat grin that made Stiles’s face flame. He didn’t dare look at Derek, for fear he would utterly self-combust with mortification but judging by his tense silence, he felt the same.

“Good run boys?” she asked casually as they approached, sipping at her cup.

In all the years they’d shared a house, the werewolf portion of their odd little family had always used their supernatural senses with as much discretion as possible, especially with two teenage boys in the house. Stiles himself had tested their limits with his bizarre affinity for both their skills and his need for masturbating in privacy, but even he couldn’t say exactly how much Laura had heard while they’d been making out in the woods.

“Don’t say a word,” Derek warned but when Stiles did risk a glance at him, he saw the tips of his ears burning red.

Laura raised her perfect brows in mock surprise. “I really don’t know what you mean and I will continue to not know what you mean for exactly forty-eight hours, in which you’ll find time to tell both Noah and I about this new beautiful development so that we can be simultaneously surprised, pleased and congratulate you.”

“Going somewhere?” Derek asked, sounding hopeful.

“Well, I did come out to tell you but found you gone and when I heard…” She winced, “Nevermind. I was going to ask if you wanted to come and visit Peter with me but I’ll let him know you’ll be by tomorrow. He’s been in a good mood since they told him he should be strong enough to move out of assisted living and into his own place soon, so he’ll be lenient with you.”

Derek nodded, lips tight with embarrassment and Laura gave them a final gleeful smirk before turning back into the house. When even Stiles heard the dull sound of the front door opening on the other side of the house and the low purr of the Camaro as Laura pulled out into the street, Stiles lead them inside.

As predicted, his dad was dozing in the armchair and Stiles covered him with the blanket from the back of the couch before turning to see Derek watching him with a fond, if a little flustered expression. Their life was one of countless domestic moments, of supernatural abilities and experiences woven so finely into everyday life that it was their own brand of normal. He’d found every little quirk in Derek’s character, in his species fascinating rather than alarming and Derek, for his part, had somehow come to appreciate Stiles’s less supernatural ones just as much.

They’d shared a home for three years, had helped each other heal from two incredible tragedies and for the first time ever, Stiles felt a little less guilty about finding happiness and solidarity in the boy who’d lost everything that night, because he knew now Derek had found something that night too.

Out of darkness, comes light, or something like that, his mind supplied as he crossed the room soundlessly to slide his fingers between Derek’s, not for the first time that night. It was something he could definitely get used to.

“Walk you to your door?” Derek suggested in a whisper and Stiles had to stifle the laugh that threatened to spill from his lips by pressing them to Derek’s.

#argento-capitani #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

26 notes · View notes