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falsegoodnight · 3 years

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these are the fics I read or reread and enjoyed this month! like last time, i’m separating it into different sections: main list, podfics, wips, and non-1d. rereads will be included in the main list and marked with *.

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 25th and any fics read after will be included in next month’s fic rec list because otherwise this is going to be obnoxiously long.

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main list ~

✰ black cherries and chocolate by @harryanthus | NR | 666 (intense and jarring in the best way. this leaves you with that heart-racing feeling and panic crawling up your throat)

There is something or well, someone in the walls.

✰ keep secrets just to keep you by @hadestyles | T | 1k (loved this so much!! and need 1000000 more royalty abos from rori immediately)

“With the elements as my witness, I take you to be my husband. My heartbeat begins with you and ends with you, Louis Tomlinson.” Louis sinks to his knees as well, salty tears mixing with the pure rainwater. “And I take you as mine. My heart beats for you and with you.”

✰ bitter coffee and sweet love by @dontfuckwithmyotp | G | 1k (so cute and sweet!! proud of you ari for getting your first fic out and excited to see what you do next!)

“Hello! Welcome to The Busy Bean! Are you new?” Louis blinked in surprise at the voice and looked around to find the source. “Behind you,” The person tapped his shoulder once and he whirled around at the unexpected touch.

“Hey! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to interrupt a person—” His rant stopped when he finally faced them. It was a guy—Harry Styles, according to his small black name tag. His eyes widened in embarrassment.

✰ turn your mic off, baby by @vogueharrystan | E | 2k (i love when lilli writes harry’s pov. this was so hot!)

Louis walks around the house naked all day and ignores Harry to play video games instead. Harry gets tired of it.

✰ This Could Be Love by mulletharry | G | 2k (such a cute and perfect little valentine’s day fic! put the biggest smile on my face <3)

Harry and Louis have been together for four months. They spend their first Valentine’s Day together.

✰ you appear as my soul by @hadestyles | T | 2k (so gorgeous and raw)

He aches — not as much as Louis, he could never imagine all that he bears quietly — and as cruel as it sounds, it keeps reminding him of how fragile they are.

✰ the energy from your body by sweetielouis | E | 3k (hilarious, hot, and cute!)

Harry and his friends have a popular podcast, for the Valentines Day special they get a bit drunk and talk a bit too comfortably about their friends arses.

It's a good thing Louis doesn't mind it all that much.

✰ look how i remember by @harryanthus | M | 4k (this left me speechless and aching)

He hates it, he wants to scream and tell Harry as much. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me as if we are in love. Kiss me like you will never do it again. Kiss me with so much hatred that it turns back to love.

✰ Things Unsaid by @londonfoginacup | G | 5k (so so cute and funny!!)

"That chunky oversized sweater is like a clown outfit made for winter."

It feels like time slows down.

Those words echo in his mind, familiar. Why are they familiar? The— the sweater he saw last week. The one with all the knit squares.

The train slows to a stop and Louis just— he doesn’t move. He feels frozen in place as people surge around him. Suddenly everyone is moving too fast and then just as suddenly the car is near empty, taking off again.

The man is gone.

His soulmate is gone.

✰ reckless serenade by @thepolourryexpress | E | 4k (adorable and funny and amazing!)

Harry's Google search history may or may not look like 'my girlfriend doesn't know we're dating.'

✰ dancing in the moonlight by @outropeace | E | 5k (need 100k more of this immediately, thanks. so wonderful)

Louis’ fuck buddy gets a date for Valentine’s day and he discovers that denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.

✰ The truth is, the stars are falling by larrysbeanies | E | 5k (hot!!! walking-in trope that i love so much)

Harry knows Louis is gay. Hell, he came out to Harry exactly two months ago (when the dreadful dry spell started) because it was becoming increasingly hard to hide the fact that his one night stands were men. And, you know, they’re best friends so there aren’t supposed to be secrets and all that.

Thing is, Louis told Harry he’s gay ergo, Harry is aware that Louis likes men. Why the fuck did he act so normal while fingering him three days ago, then? Is this something straight guys do to their gay best friends in Harry’s world?

Louis would really like to know.

✰ to be used and to be in love by @thelesserneptune | E | 5k (blessed that this is a series. really hot and cute!)

Louis doesn't know why his filthy best friend turned into a vanilla boyfriend and thinks of the perfect birthday present to solve that problem.

✰ on the borderline by @princelouisau | E | 8k (the way danielle writes... poetry. this broke me down and then stitched me back up <3)

Louis makes his choice.

✰ One Step Closer by agrinwithouthiscat | G | 12k (reading asexual hl fics is instant comfort and this was lovely)

The one fake relationship AU where they don't end up together.

✰ i glow pink in the night by @raspberryoatss | E | 12k (hybrid louis perfection, beautiful writing, characters, and story as always!)

Harry reads a lot of articles about hybrids and Louis is determined to prove them wrong.

✰ The Thinker of Tender Thoughts by @speakingwithink | G | 13k (asexual hl again! this one made me cry)

Louis sits on his hands to stop them from shaking as he adds, ‘and I’m ace.’ If only he had glitter, he thinks. Coming out deserves a bit of sparkle.

✰ Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice by @harriblou | M | 13k (enemies with benefits to lovers goodness! so hot and entertaining)

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that,” Harry muttered through clenched teeth, bones already burning with the pure desire and hatred mixing in his body. It was an intoxicating rush of adrenaline and something else that probably came with fucking Louis Tomlinson. He squeezed his neck just a little tighter. “I can’t stand it.”

Their lips were brushing against each other, just moving with the ragged movements of their mouths and harsh breathing.

“You’re a lying piece of shit dickhead,” Louis muttered right back. That was all he did, challenge and nag. He loved to have the last word and Harry let him because he used all his energy to fuck him mindless.

✰ hold onto your stars by vashtaneradas | NR | 16k (this writer’s atmosphere/prose draws me in every time. such a lovely story)

Harry's in the army, Louis' back home, and ninety days is a lifetime.

✰ The Future is Now by @jacaranda-bloom | E | 16k (love fics in this five times format and this one was so unique and cool!! and the friends to lovers aspect = chef’s kiss)

Five times Louis follows the fortunes to seek out his true love, and the one time he realises that what he's been searching for might've been right in front of him the whole time.

✰ Visceral Heat & Carnal Highs by @theisolatedlily | E | 18k (the prose in this... gorgeous. so fucking good and addicting. delighted that there’s going to be a sequel and excited for whatever lily does next!)

Louis is a demon at a house party prowling for a meal, indulging in horrendous sins to satisfy his hunger. Harry is the talk of the night, beckoning all eyes on him and the reason why Louis’s plan goes awry.

✰ deFENCEless by @solvetheminourdreams | T | 27k (this was so cute and so funny and i had the biggest smile on my face the entire time. not surprised since stef always evokes that in me with her writing)

When Louis butts heads with his new neighbor who loves to garden a little too much, all he can do to protect his yard (and heart), is keep on building up his fence(s).

✰ darling, you give love a bad name by snowcaplou | M | 29k (been waiting for this one since summer and i wasn’t disappointed! so wonderful and real!)

Louis’ has been best friends with Gemma all his life in this stupid little town he’s grown to hate. What happens when, after one night together with his best friend’s brother, he falls pregnant? Surrounded by small minds and conservative cultures, Louis has to deal with parents that demand they do the “right” thing. Get married before anybody finds out.

✰ The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson* by @helloamhere | T | 31k (will never not be an all-time favorite. louis’ character is my absolute favorite - gothic heroine indeed - and harry is the best dramatic gay ghost ever <3)

Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

✰ begged and borrowed time by @bottomlwt | M | 40k (this concept was so unique and so cool!! loved the medieval setting and the time travel and how everything fit together in the end!!)

“It wasn’t until 1568 that it became time for Prince Harry to find a queen and prepare to rule. However, the day he was set to choose his bride-to-be, he mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again despite the multiple search parties that went on through the years. To this day, historians still do not know what happened with the infamous Prince Styles case..."

✰ Lidocaine and Palm Trees.* by @daddyharrie | E | 45k (definition of ris comfort read - on nth reread and still love it wholly. makes me miss la which is an astonishing feat in itself)

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

✰ haunted by the ghost of you* by @missandrogyny | E | 49k (perhaps my favorite fic of all time? the humor, the characters, the angst?!?! all the britney spears!! and pink ouija boards and wikihow!!)

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

✰ like real people do by @eeveelou | E | 64k (this was... so amazing. the characters were so wonderfully written and so was the journey of healing and growth that louis undertakes over the story :’) loved the contrast between l and h’s lives and how they fit into each other still so perfectly)

Jessica Jones AU in which the dead stay where they belong, featuring Zayn as the high-powered lawyer with a hopeless crush on his assistant Liam, Niall as the constantly stoned but strangely insightful neighbor, Harry as Manhattan’s media darling, and Louis as the never-was hero who’s just trying to pick up the pieces.

✰ Black With Autumn Rain by whimsicule | T | 93k (i actually can’t remember if i’ve read this before??? either way - it was wonderful! loved the setting and atmosphere and the supernatural elements! i was so intrigued from the first sentence onwards)

Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren’t exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

podfics ~

✰ tall stories on the page by @soldouthaz & read by @softlouislove | T (hannah’s voice is so lovely and perfect for reading aloud - and ofc the fic itself is amazing)

Harry's tired of being interviewed by people that only care about the same pointless gossip. Louis is a nice change of pace.

wips ~

✰ Truth Behind Golden Eyes by @lwtisloved | E | 60k | 6/16 (just caught up fully today but i’m really enjoying everything! this is everything i’ve ever wanted in a fantasy fic)

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies | E | 39k | 3/10 (having a blast reading this one!! i’ve never seen the bachelor in my life but in fic-format, it’s so fun!)

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

✰ The Night Still Whispers Sins of Old by @toomanydreamers | E | 6k | 2/? (loving this so much, as expected. can’t wait to see how everything unfolds)

Two and a half years have passed since the fateful day when Louis and Harry were crowned Triwizard champions. Confronted with misunderstandings, wounded pride and heartache, Louis stumbled away from the possibility of a future relationship with Harry. Instead, he buried himself into relentless work as a junior Auror and refused to let himself be vulnerable with another person. Circumstances change that force Louis to confront his feelings - and Harry. Stolen glances, picnics at sunrise, thrilling adventures, original spellwork, midnight feasts, soft lips and cautious second chances culminate in an unforgettable mission - but will it be enough to mend their relationship?

non-1d ~

✰ like a bullet needs a gun by @millsxwriting | T | 21k | wilds au (despite me having no context, mills still got me to fall in love with toni and shelby. this was so cute and lovely!!)

Toni doesn’t expect to fall for anyone in her senior year. Least of all for Shelby Goodkind, the new girl that arrived in town just before the end of summer. In fact, Toni can’t even look at her for longer than two seconds, or listen to more than three sentences coming out of her mouth without wanting to accidentally push her off a cliff.

Cue a group project and endless bickering, and suddenly Toni finds herself with an unbearable crush.

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

#fic recs #my fic recs #28th appreciation #february recs #2021 recs #february 2021 recs #scheduled

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mylovehes · 4 years

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Agent

Masterlist

Summary: Spencer is constantly mean to reader so she calls him agent to purposely get on his nerves. One day Spencer has enough and shuts the reader up.

A/N: This is one of my first writings so any feedback is appreciated I hope you enjoy! Also feel free to leave a request!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Smut 18+

Today was just like any other day. I’ve been working for the BAU for almost five years now as an assistant for the whole team following them wherever a case may take them and even occasionally consulting. My favorite part of the job was teasing a certain messy curly haired guy, well besides helping catch the bad guys of course.

One of the rules I have to follow being the BAU’s personal assistant is not being able to go home until everyone else has, even if they decide to stay late. You can imagine how frustrating that is especially since it seems like Spencer was purposefully staying late every night, knowing how much it annoys me, when I would much rather be curled up on the couch at home reading a book and drinking some coffee.

“Are you almost done agent?” I asked Spencer with a sarcastically sweet voice, setting the copies he asked me to make for him down on his desk. The truth was Spencer hated being called agent instead of doctor and I knew that, but of course I had to get his blood boiling just a little bit. Spencer rolled his eyes and grabbed the papers stuffing them into the case file and putting it in his bag

“If you hate being here so much y/n, then why don't you just quit?” Spencer spit back annoyed with me and the improper use of his title. Spencer has had a problem with me since I started working for the BAU and I can't figure out why. eventually I gave up trying to figure it out and began purposely trying to piss him off.

“Well agent, I actually happen to like my job, just not staying way passed my scheduled time every night while you sit there and do paper work,” I said sitting on the corner of his desk pushing aside some of his papers which I knew also annoyed him.

“Call me that one more time, see what happens,” Spencer said glaring over at me while packing up his stuff for the night. Finally.

“Am I supposed to be scared of you?” I said looking him in the eye challenging him. I always had a crush on Spencer, but never acted on it due to him always being an ass towards me for no reason.

“Maybe you should be y/n,” Spencer said standing up and towering over me while wearing a smirk on his face as I was still sitting on his desk. My breathe caught in my throat and I suddenly forgot how to breathe or speak. We both were chest to chest, me looking up at him through my lashes while he glared down at me. My gaze glanced down to his plump lips while his glanced down towards mine. Suddenly Spencer pulled away like he forgot where he was for a minute. “I’m done for tonight you’re free to go.”

I began collecting what little stuff I brought with me and then headed towards the elevator which Spencer had just stepped on. I glanced over at Spencer wondering if there was any chance he could feel the same about me. The way he looked at me back there wasn’t how coworkers look at each other. Suddenly an idea popped into my mind.

“Have a good night agent,” I said right before the elevator dinged and the door opened. I almost made it out the door when I felt a yank on my arm and a hand threading through my hair roughly pulling my lips to Spencer’s. He pushed me up against the wall kissing me roughly until my lungs burned for oxygen and I had to pull away for air.

Spencer continued to trail sloppy wet kisses down my neck slightly sucking here and there. A small moan left my lips as he kissed a particular spot on my neck causing my hips to push forward onto his prominent bulge. Spencer let out a groan causing me to smirk.

“Well if you wanted to kiss me so bad agent all you had to do was ask,” I said teasingly knowing the way he was kissing me was in need of more than just my lips.

“Shut up,” he said grabbing my arm and pulling me towards his car. I hoped into the passenger side while he got in the drivers side quickly starting the car and heading towards his place. He put his hand on my thigh and I clenched them together, suddenly embarrassed by how much of a mess I already was from just a kiss.

As I arrived at Spencer’s apartment he opened my car door for me leading me to his apartment. He opened his door letting me walk in first and before I even had a chance to look at my surroundings he had me shoved against the door kissing me and unbuttoning my blouse. I shoved off his jacket and got to work on the buttons of his shirt trying to undress him as fast as possible.

Spencer began leading me to his bedroom both of us throwing articles of clothing hazardously around his apartment on our way. He kicks the door closed behind him and pushes me down onto his mattress. Our lips lock once again and I let out a quiet groan as Spencer grinds up against me, nothing separating us but his boxers and my thin lace underwear. His lips begin to travel down my jaw leading to my neck sucking soft bruises into the skin there. I reach down and grasp him through his boxers and he grips my wrists pinning them both above my head.

“No touching,” he said moving his hands back down my body, one massaging my breast as his lips begin their work on the other one.

“Spencer please,” I whine lifting my hips up to meet his. He pushes my hips down denying me what I want.

“What do you want?” He asked trailing kisses slowly down my stomach. When he gets to the waist band of my panties he pauses looking up at me expectantly.

“I want you to touch me please,” I whine trying to move beneath him to get any type of friction I can.

“Now why should I give you what you want when you can’t even refer to me by my correct title,” he said kissing lower and lower until his breath was right above where I needed him most.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry just please I need you,” I cried clenching my thighs once again. Spencer pulled my thighs apart settling between them so I couldn't close them again. He slowly dragged my underwear down my legs and threw them to the side.

“Look how wet you are,” He said dragging a finger up my folds causing me to little out a small whimper. “Who made you this wet?” I let out a moan in response threading my fingers through his hair. “I want to hear words,” Spencer said stopping all movement while looking up to my face.

“You did Spence! Please touch me!” I cried with need for the man currently teasing me.

“As you wish,” he said leaning down and sucking licking my clit leaving me a complete and utter moaning mess under him. My fingers clenched in his hair, pulling at the soft curls causing Spencer to moan against me. I cried out getting closer and closer to my orgasm. Just as I was about to come Spencer stopped his movements smiling up at me.

“What the fuck Spencer!” I cried looking down at him.

“If you want to come then call me by my correct title,” he said smirking at me drawing light circles on my bundle, just enough to drive me crazy but not enough to satisfy my hunger. I whined not wanting to give into his demand knowing it would piss him off more but not being able to hold off denying him for long.

“Please Dr. Reid I’m sorry!” I whimpered begging for him to let me get the release I so desperately needed. He applied slightly more pressure but still not enough. “Please just fuck me! I won't call you agent again I’m sorry Dr. Reid I’m sorry!” I cried pulling his head up to mine.

“Good girl listen to you, so needy,” he said traveling back up my body and locking his lips with mine. Spencer pushed his boxers down his legs and lined himself up with me. He thrust into me slowly, both of us letting out a low groan. “Fuck you're so tight y/n.”

His thrusts picked up speed leaving me a moaning mess beneath him. Spencer leaned down connecting our lips while pounding into me with even more force. I pulled away letting out a loud moan as his lips trained down my neck groaning into the skin. Soon I felt the familiar build up signaling my orgasm was quickly approaching. “Spencer I’m gonna-”

“I know baby let go,” he said not far behind me picking up his speed and reaching down to draw circles on my bundle of nerves to bring me to my high sooner. I let out a high moan feeling my orgasm wash over me and Spencer soon came right after continuing to ride out our highs.

Spencer pulled out both of us letting out a small groan at the loss of contact. He laid beside me pulling me over to lay on his chest. After a few minutes I glanced up at him to see if he was still awake. “Spencer can I ask you a question,” I whispered nervous to find out his answer.

“Yeah of course,” he said furrowing his eyebrows and shifting to look down at me.

“Why are you always so mean to me, did I do something wrong?” I asked the question that has been on my mind since the moment I met the young doctor.

“No you didn't do anything wrong y/n” Spencer said sighing. “The truth is I really like you and I thought if I was mean to you, it would make you hate me and I wouldn't have to deal with those feelings and you not feeling the same.”

“Spencer that’s stupid,” I said smiling up at the doctor. “I really like you too. I have since the day I met you.” Spencer smiled down at me pulling our lips into a sweet kiss. I pulled away smiling cheekily at Spencer, “Maybe I should call you agent more often Dr. Reid.”

“Shut up,” he smiled pulling you in for another kiss.

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #Spencer reid smut #Spencer reid x reader smut #Spencer reid oneshot #Spencer x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #Matthew gray gubler #doctor reid #doctor spencer reid

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kurowrites · 4 years

Note

"Took the wrong luggage AU" or "hugged the wrong person AU" wangxian please if you are free 🥺🙏

Wei Ying will only take about half of the blame, because really, what men in this day and age walk around with long hair, tied neatly in the back with a clasp? He only knows Wen Ning who does that, and so he sees long black hair and a clasp, and he assumes that this must be his second-favourite cinnamon roll (after Jiang Yanli, of course). He doesn’t really notice that the hair clasp is white instead of Wen Ning’s customary black, because who even pays attention to details such as these?

Wei Ying sneaks behind the bench his poor victim is seated on, and does what he always does when he greets Wen Ning: in one sweeping move, he wraps his arms around Wen Ning’s broad shoulders and leans in to place a big fat kiss on his cheek. As he draws back, he crows, “Ta-dah! It’s your favourite shixiong!”

Only that he’s not greeted with Wen Ning’s usual slightly embarrassed but still enthusiastic reaction to Wei Ying’s overly affectionate greeting, but suddenly has an incredibly stiff, frozen person in his embrace. And that’s when Wei Ying notices the white coat, and the white slacks, and the light blue turtleneck sweater; all items of clothing that Wen Ning very much doesn’t wear. And then the person still in his embrace turns their head just so, and…

Fuck.

This is most definitely not Wen Ning, but a person he has never ever laid eyes on before.

An exceedingly handsome person, his brain unhelpfully adds, with clean-cut, noble features.

And Wei Ying just slobbered all over this exceedingly handsome person that’s very much a complete stranger.

FUCK.

He lets go of the stranger and jumps back in a panic, flitting around the bench as he’s stuttering out an apology. He might have a thick face, sure, but putting his mouth on innocent bystanders is a bit much even for him. And this man very much looks as if he isn’t used to spontaneous make-out sessions. Unasked for ones, at that.

“I am so sorry,” he repeats for the probably twentieth time as he hovers in front of the person he just assaulted. “I thought you were my friend. I would never – I mean, not that you��re not handsome and everything – but I would never just, without asking, you know, smoo–”

At this point, the stranger seems to take pity on him. He fishes out a handkerchief (who in this day and age owns a handkerchief made out of actual cloth?) and delicately wipes his own cheek, right where Wei Ying slobbered all over him.

“It is fine,” the stranger says stiffly. “Be more careful next time.”

“I will,” Wei Ying promises with emphasis. “Believe me, I will.”

They settle into an awkward silence, Wei Ying’s hands fluttering around in the air uselessly as he tries to think of anything else he could do to show that he’s sincere in his apologies. He’s never been very good at being genuinely apologetic, his mouth turning a ‘sorry’ into some kind of joke, and it often only serves to rile people up even more. So he stands there and flounders as the handsome stranger straightens himself out again, until he looks as unruffled as me must have before Wei Ying’s sudden attack.

The stranger then looks up at him with a critical eye, almost as if he’s fearing that Wei Ying might be gearing up for a second attack.

(He’s not.)

“You should go look for your friend,” the stranger says. It’s not exactly impolite, but the words come with a sense of finality.

Please leave so I can bleach this incident from my memory as soon as possible, Wei Ying hears.

“Sorry,” he says again.

And then, because he’s an idiot, he adds, “You have very nice hair.”

Because that’s the first thing Wei Ying noticed about him.

The stranger looks at him with a slightly incredulous gaze, probably wondering why Wei Ying won’t get the memo, and just shut up and leave.

“I tried to grow mine out too,” Wei Ying says, desperately trying to get himself to stop speaking and completely failing. “But it never works out for me.”

He flicks his own sad excuse of a ponytail, the slight curliness of his hair making it look even messier than it already is.

The stranger is quiet for a moment, probably mentally calculating if it’s worth murdering Wei Ying in broad daylight in order to get his peace back. That’s usually the reaction normal people have to him. Only this has to be a new record in how fast Wei Ying managed to get them to this point.

Then, “It suits you.”

The compliment is so unexpected that Wei Ying gapes for a moment.

Which is definitely not his best look.

“Really?” he asks, incredulous.

“Hn,” the stranger replies, nodding once. As if that was a reasonable question to ask. And a reasonable answer to give.

“Wow, that’s just sad,” Wei Ying sighs, more to himself than to anyone else. “First I assault you and then I’m even comforted by you about my looks. That’s pathetic, really. Comforted by the victim. And compared to you, I’m just a… blob.”

The stranger looks at him again, possibly starting to wonder if Wei Ying is some kind of dangerous, disturbed individual or out to mug him. Maybe both. Not that Wei Ying has any intention to mug a handsome man. Or anyone at all.

Except for stealing a few kisses, maybe. He could do that, because this stranger is, after all, handsome.

Actually, he did that already, he realises. He kissed him on the cheek. He was just apologising for that.

For a smart man, he’s really astonishingly stupid. And the man even took pity on him and told him that he looked good with a ponytail.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks again, a little desperate. After all, he does feel sorry for what he did. “I feel like I should do something for you in exchange. I’m not sure what is appropriate, though. I don’t usually go around assaulting handsome men in the streets, believe me. No matter how tempting it might be.”

One of the exceedingly well-formed eyebrows on the stranger’s face twitches lightly. That’s about the most extreme facial reaction Wei Ying has received so far, and he isn’t entirely sure how to read it.

“Seriously,” Wei Ying emphasises. “Let me do something for you. As long as it doesn’t cost too much money though – I’m hopelessly poor.”

“There is no need,” the stranger finally deigns to reply. “Your apology is enough.”

“Wow,” Wei Ying cannot help but observe. “I wish all people were like you. No demands for compensation? You’re letting me off the hook very easily. But then, I guess the longer I’m standing around here, the more of a punishment this is for you. Uh. I’ll show myself out?”

The stranger looks at him again with a critical eye.

“You were waiting for you friend.”

It is more of an observation than a question.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying answers anyway. And then, he unnecessarily adds, “He also has long hair like you. That’s why I thought you were him.”

The stranger seems to consider that for a moment. Then he gestures towards the empty half of his bench.

“Wait.”

That.

That’s strangely nice of him, Wei Ying thinks with slight confusion. And hopefully not a precursor to murder.

In any case, he’s not going to look a gift horse into the mouth. With a feeling not unlike relief, he plops down onto the free half of the bench, and then smiles at this oddly civilised stranger.

He looks even handsomer from up close, Wei Ying cannot help but notices, and from here, he’s in a prime spot to admire the light golden shimmer of his eyes.

Wei Ying is struck. Such captivating, serious eyes, with a hidden depth that momentarily robs Wei Ying of his breath.

Something warm rises in his chest, sweet like honey.

Then he scolds himself. What foolish thoughts he’s having! Getting all mushy just because of a pair of reasonably pretty eyes!

(They’re beautiful, but that is not the problem here.)

“Wei Ying,” Wei Ying says, because if he doesn’t, he’ll probably say something much worse. “I promise I usually don’t assault handsome men on the street. Well. Unless I know them. I mean–”

There is the smallest twitch in the corner of the stranger’s mouth, and Wei Ying realises with uncomfortable, sudden clarity that the stranger is probably laughing at him.

It’s mortifying.

Maybe almost as mortifying as assaulting a perfect stranger with slobbery kisses.

If he had at least made it a good kiss. But no, he had to be all gross.

“Lan Zhan,” the stranger says, his voice serene, as if he hasn’t just accepted Wei Ying’s offering of peace.

Well.

Wei Ying thinks he might be able to deal with that.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, unable to contain a smile of his own. “It’s nice to meet you. This time without physical assault.”

---

When Wen Ning finally finds him twenty minutes later, Wei Ying has somehow successfully acquired a mobile phone number he’s 60% sure is not fake.

How, he isn’t entirely sure.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #mdzs shorts #anonymous

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

The Queen of Underland: Izzy

CW: Panic attack, child of recovering adult whumpee, anger as trauma response, referenced noncon kissing and touching (nonsexual), childhood bullying, referenced past domestic and child abuse, some gendered and ableist insults (kid to kid and nothing too intense - just fair warning)

Izzy, at nine years old, has been free with her family for almost five years now, and her mother has been in prison on a life sentence for two. With attention, affection, and therapy, she has blossomed into a quiet kid who nearly always has her nose in a book.

When two classmates try to put her in the center of a storm, Izzy finds something inside herself that she has pushed down for so long she had nearly forgotten she ever had it.

Izzy finds her father’s anger.

Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with permission.

---

Izzy sits at her desk, perfectly still, reading a book while the teacher’s out of the room speaking with another teacher in low voices, just in the hallway. The sun shines in the windows that line the wall, lighting the pages of her book, and one of Izzy’s hands rubs repeatedly over the seam down the side of her uniform skirt, the only movement she makes beyond her eyes.

Around her, the others are whispering, passing notes and giggling (except for Noah, who has his own book open, and Jack, who is drawing his story about giant killer robots in a notebook, and Sarah, Jack’s twin sister who is trying to build a tower of pencils and paper), but Izzy barely notices them.

When the teacher comes back in, Izzy will not be whispering, or giggling, or doing anything that might bother her. When the teacher comes back, Izzy will be quiet, and good, and put her book back into her desk and look up with her hands in her lap. She’s the quietest kid in class, she heard the teacher say so.

At home, she’s not always quiet anymore, but at school she still holds a balance, protecting herself and keeping herself safe in the best and truest way she knows - by simply being exactly what the adults need her to be, and keeping all her real feelings and thoughts inside her head.

Still, while the teacher’s out of the room, she takes a few minutes to read while she has the chance. Her heart beats cold and heavy in her chest as she scans over the words on the page, biting down on her lower lip, worrying at a bit of chapped skin. Her left hand settles over the soft texture of pages nearly yellowed with time spent in the school library being held by hundreds of small hands. The fingers on her right hand feel over the seam of her skirt, right along the outside of her leg, again and again.

Fierce anxiety, and a little fear, swirl inside her for the characters that exist only in ink and her imagination.

Two Earthmen entered, but instead of advancing into the room, they placed themselves one on each side of the door, and bowed deeply. They were followed immediately by the last person whom anyone had expected or wished to see: the Lady of the Green Kirtle, the Queen of Underland. She stood dead still in the doorway, and they could see her eyes moving as she took in the whole situation—the three strangers, the silver chair destroyed, and the Prince free, with his sword in his hand.

“I think I like Karissa,” Henry Fitzgerald, who sits at her left, says to his best friend Kevin Magden - not to be confused with Kevin Michaelson, and didn’t the teacher sigh over that sometimes. He has to speak over and around Izzy’s head.

“Like, like like her?” Kevin Magden asks, sounding half-horrified, half-fascinated. Izzy fights not to roll her eyes, and tries to focus back on her book, on the entrance of the Queen, on the Prince freed but faced with great danger.

The Queen of the Underland, the lady who held the Prince in the dark for ten whole years, that’s older than Izzy even is. Coming into the room to find the children and the Prince, and her having no control any longer.

She turned very white; but Jill thought it was the sort of whiteness that comes over some people's faces not when they are frightened but when they are angry. For a moment the Witch fixed her eyes on the Prince, and there was murder in them. Then she seemed to change her mind.

“Run,” Izzy whispers, to the children, to Puddleglum the strange marsh creature, to the freed Prince. “Don’t talk to her, just run. Don’t listen to whatever she says, don’t.”

“What are you even saying, Izzy?” Kevin Magden says.

“She’s all in her book like always,” Henry Fitzgerald says, shrugging. He makes some sort of gesture - Izzy doesn’t look up to see it - and the two of them laugh. She doesn’t care about that. The story is far, far more important than they are anyway. “Anyway, Kev, I like-... yeah, I think I like like her. I’m gonna tell her at break.”

“Gross,” Kevin says, but he sounds fascinated. “What if she says she doesn’t like-like you back?”

Henry shrugs again - Izzy can see the movement from the corner of her eye. “Dunno. Maybe kiss her.”

“Gross,” Kevin repeats, much more emphatically.

Izzy tries to keep her mind on the page, but shifts uncomfortably in her chair. She closes her eyes briefly, thinking of the Queen of the Underland, standing in the doorway. She imagines her with very white skin and dark, long fingernails, wearing a long dress that brushes the earthen floor, making a soft swish-swish sound as she walks. In her mind, the Queen of the Underland has very bright blue eyes and lots of curly, dark brown hair that is threaded with silver down her back, wild and uncontrolled, like it can reach out and grab you and drag you into the dark with her.

She feels like the Queen is not a stranger to her, and not hard to picture at all. Try as she might, she can’t make the Queen in her imagination look like the description of the Queen in the book. She only ever looks one way - beautiful and wicked, deceptively soft, eyes brilliant and shining too bright when the Prince is in pain.

Will she hurt him, while the children have to stand and watch and can’t save him at all?

"Leave us," she said to the two Earthmen. "And let none disturb us till I call, on pain of death." The gnomes padded away obediently, and the Witch-queen shut and locked the door.

"How now, my lord Prince," she said. "Has your nightly fit not yet come upon you, or is it over so soon? Why stand you here unbound? Who are these aliens? And is it they who have destroyed the chair which was your only safety?"

Izzy can hear the Queen’s voice, musical lilt, simpering sweet and dangerous. Why are you leaving me? How dare you. Come back here, Jax, you can’t leave, you’re mine.

Kevin and Henry are still talking, but Izzy doesn’t hear them any longer. She’s lost in the panic rising inside of her. Run, she thinks, in a scream, a shout in her mind. It isn’t that she doesn’t understand it’s just a book, but that she is still scared, frightened for the prince whose father had grown older while he was gone, whose family must have missed him so much. She is frightened for the children who do not understand the witch or how to fight her. She’s frightened even for Puddleglum, who only wants to help, to do the right thing. Don’t talk to her, don’t give her the chance, just run. She’ll make you hers again. She swallows - it feels like her heart beats itself right up into her throat, like she is swallowing around it - and keeps reading.

Prince Rilian shivered as she spoke to him. And no wonder: it is not easy to throw off in half an hour an enchantment which has made one a slave for ten years. Then, speaking with a great effort, he said:

“I’ll kiss her even if she doesn’t like me back, anyway.”

Izzy’s breath catches, and she blinks, feeling like she has been pulled out of a spell herself. She looks up, glancing sidelong at Henry, who isn’t looking at her at all, just talking to Kevin. “Hen-... Henry-... what did you say?”

“None of your business,” Henry replies, voice harsh and loud enough to get some of the others to look over at them, and Izzy’s shoulders creep up towards her chin, face burning red. She hates when everyone looks at her, hates it more than anything. Henry looks back at Kevin. “At break, I will. I’ll tell her, and I’ll kiss her, whether she wants to or not.”

Izzy looks back down, but the words on the page run together, she can’t see them any longer, they’re just squiggles, meaningless little lines. What I want just matters more, whispers a nightmare she can never quite feel woken up from. She tries, she really does, to focus again on the book but she sees secondly, she took out a musical instrument-

Izzy slams the little paperback shut, sticks it back in her desk, and says in a thin voice, “You can’t do that if someone doesn’t want you to, it’s wrong.”

“It’s not a big deal, Izzy, geez.” Kevin on her other side speaks up now, and between them she feels like she’s being battered, tossed on a sea, shoved down, locked in the dark. Izzy stares down at her desk, then, letting her eyes lose focus on the wavy colors in the polished wood. Light brown, almost auburn, and darker brown, almost a chocolate color, very like the hair on Izzy’s own head, clipped short and spiky.

Very very like the wavy, thick curls that ran down her mother’s back, that smothered Izzy in the smell of her shampoo and perfume.

“It is a big deal,” Izzy whispers. “It’s wrong, to make someone kiss you. It’s wrong. It-... it hurts them. It matters what they want, too.”

“Ugh. It's just a kiss. You’re bonkers, you know that?" Henry leans over, almost in her space, and Izzy sits back as far as she can until she presses her back hard into her chair, enough to hurt. “Absolutely mad.”

“No, I’m not,” Izzy mumbles, but panic twists even worse inside her. Is she? Her mom is. Isn’t she? Don’t you have to be, to be evil? Dr. Marty says no, that those two things are totally separate and people are just bad at understanding that people can be really, really, really bad and still be sane - that bad people almost always are - and Dr. Marty knows everything about crazy and not-crazy, that’s his whole job, and she’s not like her mother anyway, she’s not.

“Are so,” Henry taunts, falling easily into the familiar cadence of mockery, and Izzy’s face burns brighter and hotter as the room begins to fall quiet, other conversations falling away as the others realize there might be some entertainment now. Her breath comes faster, and she closes her hands into fists at her side, fighting to control the way the fear and a new rise of anger start to twist around inside her stomach, making it flip, making her feel sick. “You’re bonkers for sure, Izzy Gallagher.”

“I-I’m not. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not! It’s not right to kiss people who you don’t know if they want to or not! It’s not!”

The room feels suddenly too small, and too big - she can’t escape Henry’s bean-breath and she can’t run far enough to get to the door, she can’t run at all. Some small voice inside her demands she stay still, shut her mouth, never talk again. She should have just finished her book, seen how the Prince would escape the Queen of the Underland, seen if the children help him or just weigh him down, one more bit of stone tying him to Underland and maybe he wishes he could just leave them behind, if they bother him, if they’re no good-

“Ewwwww, who would want to kiss Izzy?” A girl near her wrinkles her nose - Lindsey Smith, Izzy’s brain supplies, in an airless dizzy spin of details that aren’t important but she can’t stop circling around. “She looks like a boy.”

“Hey, back off.” Izzy, surprised, glances over her shoulder to find Noah Hawkins looking up from his own book, eyes narrowed. “Izzy’s hair is cool, and it’s cooler than yours anyway, Lindsey-kins. You just wish you looked as good as she does.”

“Shut up! You just say that because you’re a boy, of course you think boy hair looks cool.” Lindsey sticks her tongue out, crossing her arms in front of herself. She has big poofy hair like Izzy’s would be if she didn’t have her dad cut it so short, held back with a clip. Hers is red, though.

“There’s no such thing,” Sarah says from over by the window. “As boy or girl hair, I mean. There’s no such thing. It’s all just hair. Izzy’s hair does look cool. You all should leave it alone, Mrs. Brent is going to be back inside any second and we’ll all get in trouble if there’s fighting.”

“Yeah, Izzy,” Henry hisses at her, leaning in close. Too close. She forgets how to breathe. “Stop causing trouble, Izzy.”

“I’m not,” Izzy whispers. Her face feels like it might light on fire. Her fingernails dig into her palms, until she feels flashes of pain, creating crescents that could take hours to fully fade if she did it hard enough. “I was-... I was just-”

“Just butting in where you don’t belong,” Henry finishes for her. “It’s not your business.”

“It’s-... but, but I just-” Her voice is fading fast, airy and breathless, barely a whisper. Quiet little Izzy Gallagher, who never stands up for herself, who lets everyone talk to her like this, who never says a word she isn’t asked to say. Her fear batters her with wings inside her chest, but beneath it is something else entirely, trying to rise up and take over her mind and mouth. Anger. She and Dr. Marty had talked about it, about how it was a normal feeling to feel, but every swell of it within her was met by the rising tide of fear in response.

She never lets herself be angry. That would make her like her mother, who was angry so much, and she’s not like that, she’s not.

She doesn’t think, in the moment, that her mother isn’t the only parent who knows how to be angry.

The thoughts are not conscious. They aren’t driven by any kind of logic, they loop and swirl around each other. They flash bright like light in the back of her mind. She thinks about the story, the book inside her desk, the way the Prince fell upon the silver chair, how he swung his sword in dim light.

She thinks about the prince walking out the hotel doors with a baby in one arm and a little girl on his hip, a backpack heavy against his back, into the sunlight outside. She can remember the way he breathed quick and shallow against her hair, the racing of his heart as he asked her to be very quiet, and very brave. She didn’t know he was scared, he didn’t say it, he was just the Prince, shining in the sunlight, asking for directions to the train station and going in a suit to court later and the silver gave way before the sword’s edge like string, and in a moment a few twisted fragments, shining on the floor, were all that was left of the chair.

“But-but-but-but, I just-” Henry is still going, and Izzy’s eyes burn as hot as her face, lips pulling back from her teeth in a grimace like a snarl. “Just shut up, Izzy Gallagher, nobody cares what you think.”

“Don’t be a dick, I care,” Noah says, from the back of the room, his voice getting louder, now. Other students whoop and go ooooh, Noah likes Izzy, but Noah ignores them, and he doesn’t turn even a little bit red. “Izzy hasn’t done anything wrong to you.” She barely knows Noah, he’s in her class but they don’t talk or anything. This is the first time he’s done more than help her with a math problem, this is the first time she’s heard him even talk in class without the teacher calling on him.

But it feels good to have somebody else stand up for her.

“She’s butting in!” Henry protests, hands up like he’s the innocent one. “Kevin and I were just talking-”

“About kissing Karissa Bellweather!” Izzy half-shouts. “From the other class! You were talking about kissing someone even if she doesn’t want to! You said you would even if she said no! That’s not right!”

“Ew,” Someone says, Izzy doesn’t know who. Her blood is rushing in her ears almost too loud to hear. “Do you like-like Karissa Bellweather, Henry?”

“No! I don’t!” Henry looks stricken. He hadn’t expected her to just say it out loud like that to everybody. “Gallagher’s lying! She’s a liar!”

“I’m not! I’m not a fucking liar!” Her voice is too loud and she claps her hands over her mouth. Don’t cry, she thinks to herself, and her own thought-voice twists into her mother’s sharper edges. Her palms ache and she wonders if her nails have broken skin, but the wonder is faint, and faded. She feels a hand pressed against the back of her neck, the Queen of the Underland’s voice beside her ear. Don’t cry, Bella. You’re so ugly when you cry. Jax, get her out of my sight.

“Fuck off,” Izzy says, voice trembling. She isn’t really talking to Henry, not anymore. “Leave-... leave me alone.”

“Oooh, what’re you gonna do, huh? Gonna throw some punches?” Kevin is too close on the other side, now. They’re both too close. Izzy’s heart beats all out of time, and when she goes to breathe, it… it doesn’t work. Her breath is stuck in her throat, halfway down. The air just… sits there, and she can’t hitch it in or exhale it. It feels like her throat is closing up, she’ll choke on nothing, black out and fall down. “Bonkers Izzy Gallagher, gonna fight us, are you?”

“I-I could-” Her voice is a whimper, and Izzy closes her eyes.

“Could not,” Henry mocks, from his side of her. “You’re weak as a puppy. What are you gonna do?”

“Stop-... stop you from talking anymore,” Izzy says, and pushes her chair back with a loud scrape, getting to her feet. She should tell Dr. Marty about the book, she thinks, about the Queen of the Underland. She should tell her father about the Prince tied to the chair, and how he chopped the chair to bits, and she should tell them all about it, nice and safe and quiet at home, and not do what she’s afraid she’s going to do instead.

“How, gonna use something you learned from your mam in prison?” Henry asks, and Izzy remembers, all at once, how to breathe - but it’s all poison. She gulps in air, fear sparking up, her nerves feel like a hundred thousand tiny lightning strikes. She wants to run but she’s at school and there isn’t anywhere to go.

“Wh-what?”

“My dad says your mam’s famous in the States for being in prison,” Henry says, leaping on this new tactic as the blood drains from Izzy’s face. He’s like animals on the nature shows that James likes to watch at home with their snack, circling a calf all alone. She’s a wounded baby calf, she’s weighing the herd down, she’s not strong or brave enough, she never was. “Did she teach you how to prison-fight? Ooooh, did she show you how to make a-” He jabs at the air, fist closed empty around an imaginary knife. “A prison-blade?”

“Shiv,” Kevin supplies helpfully.

“Right, that. Did your mam show you how to shank someone?”

“I don’t-... I don’t talk to my mom,” Izzy says, half-strangled by her own words. Her head is spinning. Her backpack is so far away. “We don’t-... we don’t have contact-... she doesn’t talk to me, isn’t allowed-”

“Oh, ew.” Henry sits back, and his face lights up with the simple cruelty of wounding someone who looks unable to fight back, of regaining his own stability and distracting everyone from his embarrassment by bringing up Izzy’s shame instead. “Are you so awful even your mam doesn’t want to talk to you?”

No. She doesn’t. Izzy’s lip trembles. She can’t bring herself to try and respond. She doesn’t, she doesn’t want to know anything about me at all. The last thing my mom ever said to me was yelling at me not to look so scared all the time and Dad said she never asked about me when he talked to her during the trial she never asked she never-

“Hey, Henry,” Someone says. “This is super gross stuff to say, isn’t it?” Izzy can’t see anything but Henry’s face, everything else is white noise and his words ringing through her, settling too deeply inside, meeting her own thoughts that match them, sometimes, on hard days. She never asked about me, she doesn’t even care that I hate her. Your mam is supposed to care if you hate her. You’re so awful your mom doesn’t even care about you. Your mam is supposed to-

“Yeah, Henry. That’s too far, that’s really mean.”

“She can’t help who her mam is, Hen.”

“Yeah, it’s not like she went to the mam shop and picked a rubbish one.”

“My dad was away for a while, Iz, I get it. My mam says it doesn’t say anything about us. People make bad choices is all.”

“I haven’t even seen my dad since I was five, Izzy, it’s okay, don’t be sad.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, Izzy, don’t be sad, Henry’s just being awful.”

“Hey, she was awful first!”

“Go run up a pole, Henry. I like you, Izzy,” Sarah says, from the window, and moves in her direction. “Henry’s being a jerk, don’t listen to him. Don’t be sad. It’s okay.”

“I like you, too, you’re fun at break, you always have good ideas for games.” That’s Amira, using that certain kind of tone you use when you are trying to comfort an upset person, and Izzy feels some of the ice closing around her heart starting to warm up, to melt, to crack apart.

Even Lindsey says, almost grudging, “Don’t be sad because of Henry, Izzy. He’s really mean sometimes.”

“I think you’re really cool,” Noah says, in a quieter voice. “Please don’t be sad. Want to play monsters at break?”

They don’t all hate her, they don’t. Someone puts a hand at her back, and she flinches, and they pull the hand away, but they don’t hate her for pulling away, they don’t hate her voice or her hair and they don’t hate her for speaking up, they don’t.

Henry hasn’t given up, not yet. “Your mam’s in prison for being a shit to your dad, isn’t she?”

Izzy doesn’t look at him, leaning down to pull the book out of her desk, trying to think. She can pull her backpack out and go the nurse, say she’s feeling sick, and maybe her dad will come get her and take her home. They can call Dr. Marty and she can tell him what happened and Dr. Marty will know what to tell her and her dad to work on for the next time. She can tell him that there were good things, too, like that Noah said he thinks she’s cool, and Amira likes her game ideas, and not everybody hates her because she has the wrong mom, and it’s going to be okay.

It’s going to be okay.

“Henry, stop it,” She says, in a half-whisper. “Please stop.”

She can go to the nurse. Say she’s sick, it’s not a lie, her stomach is all twisted up in knots. It’ll be true, she’s not going to feel better. She has sweat on her forehead drying cold, making her shiver a little. It’s not a lie, being scared makes her sick, it’s a real sick, it’s not a lie. She gets sick a lot from being scared, Dr. Marty says it’s normal for kids who have anxiety, she has exercises to do, she can picture all her hurting thoughts and move them away, and…

“That’s what my dad said.” Henry’s voice cuts in. “He said your mam’s a piece of fucking work and probably made your dad one, too-”

“Don’t talk about my dad!” She rounds on him, then, book clutched to her chest. “Don’t you dare, you don’t-... you don’t have any right! You don’t know what happened, you don’t know us, you don’t know anything! My dad is better than yours ever could be! And, and stronger, and braver, too!”

Izzy Gallagher, quiet as a mouse, teacher’s pet from sheer terrified inaction, who always sits still and listens carefully and takes direction so well and is just an absolute pleasure to have in class, Mr. Gallagher, an absolute pleasure, is shouting and doesn’t realize it until the words have left her mouth.

She should stop, some part of her brain begs her to stop, but the anger is suddenly larger than the fear and she is a little girl with a sword. Where they came from, and what she and her father and her little brother have survived, is a silver chair she will hack to bits until all that’s left shines like jewelry when held up to the light.

Henry’s eyes widen, they are big saucers, and they are very bright and very blue.

“My dad is amazing.” She can’t stop shouting. She’s not even trying to stop any longer. “He lived through really bad stuff and he still got us away from it! Even though it would have been easier to go by himself and leave us, he didn’t, and my mom is evil, and I’m not, because you don’t have to be what your mom is and I’m not ever going to be like that, but you are evil, Henry Fitzgerald, and you don’t even have an excuse! You’re-... you’re mean for no reason, and I hope Karissa spits in your face and kicks you between your legs as hard as she fucking can! You are an asshole, Henry Fitzgerald, and you can go fuck yourself all the way home!”

“Isabella Gallagher!” Mrs. Brent’s voice is shocked, and the words die in Izzy’s throat, as she slowly turns to see the teacher standing in the doorway, staring at her like she’d grown three heads and all of them have fangs.

Izzy feels like she has fangs, too. And claws, like she is a monster herself. She should be scared, or sad, or ashamed of herself, but all she feels is anger burning bright and hot and good in her veins, louder than fear. Angry feels safer than scared. She feels proud of herself, a feeling so unfamiliar it seems like it must be someone else’s. Sarah, close to her now, whispers, go Izzy, in a soft impressed voice, and Izzy feels her eyes burn again, more than before, but for a different reason.

They don’t hate her, and Henry isn’t saying bad things about her dad any longer, because of her. They don’t hate her.

“You might be even cooler now,” Amira says, and the teacher shushes all of them and points Izzy out, telling her to go see the Head Teacher. Any other Izzy would slink out with her shoulders hunched, full of fear, but this Izzy feels the buzz of standing up for herself running through her and warming all the cold, chasing the heavy hand on her neck away. This Izzy walks with her chin up and her shoulders back.

Some of the warm feeling goes away when the Head Teacher calls her dad to come get her, and says in her stern hard voice that Izzy was yelling and cursing at another student. The Head Teacher doesn’t say that she had a reason, and makes it sound like Izzy just stood up and started cursing for no reason at all. That’s… that’s not fair. Grown-ups always do that, make it seem like kids just go off for no reason, and Izzy can’t hear what her dad says back to the Head Teacher, but a lot of the warm feeling goes away, then. Her heart feels cold and scared again.

What if he’s mad at her?

What if she can’t be sorry enough to fix it?

Izzy sits in a hard wooden chair that is shaped all wrong for kids and makes her legs hurt after a while, waiting for him to come get her with a racing heart, her book open in her lap.

There’s some brown-y red smeared on the cover, drying. She made her palms bleed when she was scared and didn’t even notice. She’ll ask her dad to buy the school library a new one. She wants to keep this one for herself.

"I have come," said a deep voice behind them. They turned and saw the Lion himself, so bright and real and strong that everything else began at once to look pale and shadowy compared with him. And in less time than it takes to breathe Jill forgot about the dead King of Narnia and remembered only how she had made Eustace fall over the cliff, and how she had helped to muff nearly all the signs, and about all the snappings and quarrellings. And she wanted to say "I'm sorry" but she could not speak. Then the Lion drew them towards him with his eyes, and bent down and touched their pale faces with his tongue, and said:

"Think of that no more. I will not always be scolding. You have done the work for which I sent you into Narnia."

"Please, Aslan," said Jill, "may we go home now?"

"Yes. I have come to bring you Home," said Aslan.

A flash of gray, worn jeans in her vision brings her slowly into awareness of the world around her, but it’s the voice that breaks her completely from the story’s spell.

“Talk to me, kiddo.”

Izzy looks up to meet her father’s eyes, surprised - she hadn’t even heard him come up. But they’re quiet movers, the Gallaghers - except for Jamie, who never had to learn to move so quiet she couldn’t hear him, who never had to push down all his sounds so deep inside himself he could go whole days without making any at all.

Her dad drops into a crouch in front of her, and his knees crack a little, but if it bothers him he doesn’t show it. He looks up at her, from this angle, and he doesn’t look mad.

He almost never looks mad at her.

“I got a call that you were fighting in class.” He looks like he’s trying not to twitch a smile at the corner of his mouth. “And using some pretty creative language.”

“Can’t imagine where I learned to curse,” Izzy says gravely, and there - that was definitely a smile on his face that he has to hide as fast as it shows. She lives for her father’s smile. Still, she closes her book, and folds her hands on top of the stain on the cover so he won’t see it. “I only yelled a little. Henry Fitzgerald was mean to me, and he was going to-... he was going to kiss a girl who didn’t want him to kiss her, even if she didn’t want him to. He said it didn’t matter if she wanted to or not.”

“Ah.” It’s all he says, at first. His face doesn’t show much, now. Her nervous heart starts to beat fast again.

“It’s, that was, um, that was before he got mean. He got mean when I told him that it’s wrong to do that and… I kind of… told everybody in class he was going to.”

Her father’s eyebrows raise, a little. “You did, did you?”

“Yes. Then he said his dad told him my mom’s in prison and that-” She stops herself, closing her hands tightly over the book, before her voice can start to shake again. She takes deep breaths, strong ones, fills her whole lungs up. Her dad waits for her, he always waits for Izzy when she needs him to. “He said, it was just, it was a stupid thing, but it made me really angry.”

Her dad’s face hasn’t changed, but Izzy knows when emotions change in a room, even without anyone’s face moving at all. She can feel that something has shifted inside him, something he’s not showing her. “What did he say?”

“That I must be awful if my mom doesn’t even want to talk to me.” She says it flat, like it doesn’t bother her at all to hear it. No big deal, it’s normal to have a mother who hates you for stealing your father even though it didn’t happen that way. “Then he said mean stuff about you, and… I was already upset, so… I kind of went off on him. I’m sorry you got called and had to come get me.”

“But you’re not sorry you did it,” He says, and it’s not a question.

She presses her lips tightly together, and shakes her head. “I’m… I’m not. He needed to be yelled at. I’m not sorry, Dad. I mean, I am sorry that you have to do anything, but, I’m not-... sorry for calling him all those names and I will put my money from my birthday in the swear jar if you want, I’ll skip tea for a week and put all my chocolates in there, but I still won’t be sorry for yelling when he was mean about you.”

He huffs a sound like quiet laughter and offers her his hands. “Izzy… I don’t care what a year three kid - or his dad - says about me. But clearly it was important to you. Let me go in there and talk to the Head Teacher about it, and we’ll talk out what happens next on our way home. Okay?”

No anger, or threatening punishments, no mention of discipline ever leaves his slightly smiling lips. Izzy is never taught through making her afraid, not anymore. But he waits, seriously, for her to acknowledge what he’s said.

“Okay, Dad. We’ll talk about what I need to do. And-... can we call Dr. Marty when we get home? I-... want to talk to Dr. Marty about what happened.”

He looks surprised, but not unhappy about it, and nods. “Yeah, kiddo. Good plan. I’ll be back out in just a bit.” When he turns to walk into the Head Teacher’s office, she thinks that even with everything, he looks very like a grown-up prince, and the rings in his ears look like shredded silver.

She lifts a hand to touch the shell of her own ear, on her left side.

Izzy opens her book, to the murmur of their voices as they talk about her. She decides to finish it later, and instead she flips back to read again the bit where the prince takes his sword to the chair that kept him under the spell and tells the evil Queen of Underland that he isn’t hers any longer.

He will go home, to his family, to be freed of her entirely, even if she still shows up in bad dreams… bad dreams are the only place she can come to, now. He’ll wake up and someone will tell him that she’s gone and she can’t come back, and it will be true. They’ll tell him, again and again, until he believes it.

Izzy will tell her dad, until he believes it.

Jax will tell her, until she believes it, too.

But first…

"Madam, there will be no more need of that chair. And you, who have told me a hundred times how deeply you pitied me for the sorceries by which I was bound, will doubtless hear with joy that they are now ended for ever. There was, it seems, some small error in your Ladyship's way of treating them. These, my true friends, have delivered me. I am now in my right mind, and there are two things I will say to you…”

“Go fuck yourself,” Izzy whispers with a smile on her face and the thrill of forbidden words up her spine. She isn’t talking to Henry Fitzgerald this time, either. She never really was. “And I’m not sorry you’re not Queen anymore at all.”

---

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @wildfaewhump @whump-tr0pes @moose-teeth @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @vickytokio @eatyourdamnpears

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mxanigel · 3 years

Text

A happier moment in Neri's past

[WIP. I don't know whether this'll stick, but I've enjoyed imagining Neri having at least one relatively happy relationship experience as an apprentice mage in the Circle. And I needed that experience to be with a female mage, for Neri's sake and for my own.]

9:25 Dragon, Cloudreach

A head full of brown hair invades my field of view, curly ringlets bouncing between me and the stolen sheet of vellum on the table. “What’cha doing, Neri?” Rosalind asks.

“Sketching.”

“So not studying.”

“Not studying, no.”

“Does Enchanter Leorah know you’re slacking?”

“Would I be slacking if she did?”

“Probably not,” she laughs.

How that sound adds color to my world, I can’t explain. But it sends the corners of my mouth twitching upward into a smile. “What are you doing, Rosalind?”

“Taking a break.” She wrinkles her nose. “You know I want you to call me Rose.”

“Right. Sorry. Habit.” Her name is so pretty. Why shorten it?

Rosal—Rose sighs. “What are you drawing this time?”

Originally, I planned to attempt her portrait, but without the inspiration in front of me, it proved too difficult. Especially since I want to surprise her with it, so I must do it right. “Blood lotus.”

“Why are you drawing that?”

“Because it’s what I was studying earlier, and if I’m caught, I could make the excuse of sketching it to better understand the plant.”

Rose’s eyes bore into mine. “It doesn’t sound like you wanted to draw it, though.”

“It’s better than reading the same dusty scroll for the tenth time.”

“Fair.” She plops onto the bench next to me and bumps her shoulder against mine. “What are you doing after dinner?”

“Whatever Senior Enchanter Sweeney asks of me.”

“After that.”

“I’m on duty tonight, Rose. No fun for me.”

“Aww. I was hoping you’d be free.” She folds her arms onto the table and drops her head onto them with an exhale that might be audible across half the library. But her next words are quiet, too quiet. “Benedict won’t stop badgering me to meet up with him, and I’m running out of ways to say no.”

Andraste’s flaming sword, not him. That apprentice has a bad habit of hearing either ‘yes’ or ‘yes, but later’ anytime he asks a girl—always a girl—to meet with him. An act far from the innocuous event the word implies. “Tell him to meet me instead.”

Rose’s head jerks upward. “You can’t be serious.”

I shrug, begging the Maker for it to appear utterly casual. “I’m fine with it. And it’s worth it if it means he’ll leave you alone.”

“Do you really think he’ll give up, just like that?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to try, right?”

She squints at me, her nose suddenly inches from mine. “Are you interested in Benedict?”

“Not particularly.”

“So why—”

“Because you aren’t, and I don’t mind, so that’s better than you dealing with it,” I hiss.

Rose’s jaw drops. “Neri, that’s sacrificing yourself. And I’m not okay with you sacrificing yourself for me.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t—not if I’m not fine with it.” Her eyes blaze with a fury I’ve never seen from her. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her angry. Exasperated, irritable, but never truly angry. “I’m going to tell him I’m busy. You’re not going to say anything. Or, if you do, it better be that you’re busy too.”

“Well, that is true on my part—”

“After you help out the senior enchanter, you’ll be busy with me.” And then she grabs the collar of my robes, yanks me forward, and kisses me.

Maker, the softness of her lips is ten times better than I ever imagined. She somehow smells faintly of strawberries and sunshine. I want to lose myself in these sensations, yet my rational mind invades, and I pull away. “That… I… this is, uh, unexpected.”

“But not unwanted. Right?” Her eyes shine as she manages a bashful yet worried smile. “Tell me I didn’t misread your signals.”

I was sending signals? I’ve certainly thought about her, a lot, more than anyone else near our age, but I never dreamed she would notice, let alone be interested. “N-No, you didn’t. I, uh, I’ve definitely considered it, but I never would’ve acted on those feelings, not unless I thought you felt the same.” I blink. “I didn’t realize, you know. That you thought about me like that.”

Rose scratches her cheek. “Honestly, I didn’t realize it myself until you offered to meet with Benedict in my place. When it occurred to me that I’d rather be the one you’re meeting.”

My body flushes with warmth. Andraste preserve me, how am I supposed to focus on my evening tasks now? “Are you sure about this?”

“Need me to kiss you again to prove it?”

I vehemently shake my head. “You do that again, and I won’t be able to wait until tonight.”

Rose giggles, her cheeks reddening to match her nickname. “Do you know the alcove next to the stockroom?”

“That’s…a popular spot. We may need an alternative.”

She pouts. It’s adorable. “Behind the second set of bookcases in the library—”

“Way too open. Someone will hear us.”

“You expect to be loud?”

My face heats up as if flames consumed it. “Uh… well… just in case…” Then a wicked thought occurs to me. “I’ll be helping the senior enchanter sort supplies in one of the storerooms—the one with the herbs, on the east side of the tower. So he gave me a key. There’s no way he’ll stay to work with me the entire time. Meet me there after the ninth bell.”

Rose smiles and then gently traces her fingertips down my arm. “I can’t wait.”

#dragon age #fanfic #queer relationship #agender Warden #teenage relationship #Circle mage #Neri Surana

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novelconcepts · 3 years

Note

Your ficlet about Dani leaving was so goood! It broke me, really. I know it's such a depressing concept but if you're still in the mood for angst, can you write something like the film "a ghost story"? It's from the pov of a ghost, he watches his wife dealing with his death and then just watching more life happening while he is dead.

Time is unstable now. It’s almost the same as those last few months, really--the instability had become the only thing, the only certainty to a day. Hours had blinked back to moments; moments rushing forward to days. She’d closed her eyes on a Tuesday, woken on a Saturday, had been dimly aware of moving and speaking and managing all that time without ever feeling its fingers on her skin.

Time is unstable now. It’s almost what she’s used to, almost the same--except it goes backwards, sometimes. Goes all the way backwards, sometimes. She opens her eyes, and she’s watching herself move in slow motion across these very grounds, her eyes blue, her skirt long, stumbling across a girl and a song at this very lake.

No idea. She’d had no idea.

Time is unstable now. It twists and it bends, and she thinks she could learn to control it, as the hours turn to days turn to years. How long has it been already? There’s no telling. There’s nothing to hang onto, no handhold, no markers along the miles. She moves, and it’s like being awake, sometimes--there is sun, and there is shadow, and there is moonlight. There is a life once lived--well lived--well loved--beneath her skin. She knows it, somehow. Knows it, the way you know a dream even as it dissolves in the shower as you prepare for--

School.

Work.

Life.

Time is unstable now. It builds and it skews and it stumbles sideways into itself, and she’s seeing it all. A boy with curly hair stepping out of a car into the path of a casket. A girl in a sundress with a father, a mother, a home chipped and broken and pieced back together with desperation. A man who thought he loved her; a woman who couldn’t love him back. A plane. A backpack. Hands belonging to strangers, smiles crooked on her own lips, a resume offered in a neat office. A job lost. A job won. A pair of glasses in the mirror.

Time is unstable now. It spins and it wheels, and she remembers it all--remembers walking into this lake, remembers walking beside this lake, remembers a child being carried to doom in this lake, remembers arms around her waist in this lake, breath on her lips, shh, shh, it’s okay, Dani, it’s okay--

Time is unstable now. It shuffles and it dances and she’s trying to center herself. Trying to remember how long it’s been since she stopped being entirely her--years, she thinks. Decades, she thinks. A night a million miles away, a choice made, words spoken. She said the thing, and she became something new. Something half Dani Clayton-half Viola Lloyd. Something half woman, half ghost. Someone who hadn’t known, even then, what she was giving up--or what she’d fight so hard to keep for as long as she could.

Time is unstable now. It cavorts and it cartwheels, and how long since she stopped breathing? Since she stopped being that half-and-half, that slow-fade, that peace-becomes-fear, and became instead: this. This version of herself who holds no weight, who leaves no mark behind, who does not possess skin or mass or footprint, and who is, still, somehow...here. Here. More here than she ever thought she’d be again.

Why is she still here?

You are, the voice says in her ears, hopeful, hopeless, you are still here.

Her hand, she thinks, and she’s gripping the ring. The ring. The ring. The--

Time is unstable now. It jolts and it jounces, and she is in a kitchen making a proposal, and she is in a kitchen watching a woman wash her hands, and she is in a kitchen shattering a plate while Jamie holds her, holds her, repeats, “We could have so many more years. Dani. Dani. We could have so many--”

Time is unstable now. It ricochets and it roils, and she is standing here. Standing here. Waiting for something she knows is coming. Waiting for something she knows still needs her, still pulls at her, still forms its own insistent gravity--

Time is unstable now.

Jamie, as she has always been, is not.

Jamie, out of that cab in the same shirt she’d slept in. In Dani’s jeans, and sneakers that had really belonged to them both. Jamie, shoulders rounded and back straight, dragging breaths.

Don’t, she thinks. Don’t, you don’t want to see it. Knowing it won’t be real until Jamie does. Knowing it won't be real for Jamie--and maybe not for her, either. Time is so unstable. Time is so unbound around her, casting her into a grove of moonflowers--once in a blue goddamn moon, I guess--and into a hallway--there will be other nights--and into a bedroom--are you sure, Dani, I only want to if you’re sure--and into--

The lake. Jamie is in the lake. Up to her waist, up to her chest, drawing a deep breath and diving.

It becomes real only when Jamie looks it in the eye. When Jamie sees her--what was her--what can’t be her any longer, because it belonged too much to the Lady, Jamie. It belonged too much to the spell. It couldn’t last, because nothing does, because there is no forever for flesh and blood, Jamie. You taught me that. You told me that, that it’s so beautiful that we can’t last, that it’s so gorgeous that we can’t hang on forever. You said it. You meant it, then.

Jamie has been under too long. Jamie has been under too long, and time is unstable, time is unreliable, time is a twisting net tossed over her--but Jamie has looked, now. Jamie has seen, now. And if it’s enough to solidify the thing for Jamie, if it’s enough to let her fall over the cliff, it’s enough for this, too. For her to follow Jamie into the water. It’s easier this time; she doesn’t have to worry about the burn in her lungs, the ache in her head, the terror and the peace trading hands like a kid passing baseball cards. She follows Jamie down, and Jamie is reaching, Jamie is screaming, Jamie is saying those words, those hated, magical words--

She wraps both arms around Jamie. Pulls her toward the surface. Feels Jamie go limp, letting herself rise as the horror and the shock set in for real. Time is unstable now, but Jamie isn’t--Jamie is a real, living, breathing human being who must still abide by certain rules. Who must still kick her way to the surface and break, gasping, as Dani hugs her close.

She doesn’t see, it’s clear. Can’t feel Dani, it’s clear. Can’t know, as she collapses on the bank, her hair sopping, her face streaked with tears, that Dani is behind her with arms around her shoulders. That Dani is bowed over her, breathing with her, urging her back to reality with every slow inhalation.

Dani, holding her, does not sink in. Does not vanish beneath Jamie’s skin. Does not close her eyes here and open there, seeing what Jamie sees. Jamie is still muttering--you, me, us, goddammit, Dani, please--and still, she does not allow herself that cruelty. Not for an instant.

You are not mine, she thinks with everything she has, and knows Jamie doesn’t understand. Can’t possibly, not yet. Knows Jamie has no sense of the gravity she maintains, that Dani couldn’t deny the pull of that gravity even if she wanted to.

Her body remains behind, as all bodies must--and it will break, over time. She understands there will be the natural passage, the natural flow of time and water and organic degradation. It doesn’t matter. Her body remains behind.

She is with Jamie in the cab.

She is with Jamie on the plane.

She is with Jame in their apartment.

She is with Jamie every step of the way.

You are not mine, she thinks every night, as Jamie begs the mirror, as Jamie pleads with the bath, as Jamie slams a fist down on the countertop and closes her eyes and sinks into grief. You are not mine, Jamie, you have to understand.

She doesn’t. She can’t. Maybe someday, Dani thinks. Maybe someday, she will allow the truth to take root in her bones: that no person can ever own another, not with all the love and well-meaning the world can muster. That to love someone is to let them go, no matter what they might demand in return.

Time is unstable now. It burns and it bleeds, and Jamie walks through it in horrible, painstaking chronology. Monday becomes Tuesday. April becomes May. Each year falls in line, and Dani wishes she could show her. Wishes she could explain that she is here--she is ten, and she is thirty, and she is forty-two, and she is in love with Jamie in all the ways that extend beyond clock and calendar. That she is in love with Jamie before she even knows her, and she is in love with Jamie long after time has forgotten them both. That she is here, and she is here, and she is still here.

Time is unstable now. She can see how it all will unfold, a tablecloth shaken out: Jamie swearing over tattered roses, and Dani kissing her in a greenhouse, and Dani offering a ring, and Jamie saying, I’m actually pretty in love with you, it turns out.

Jamie, telling a story at a wedding.

Dani, taking in a story in a moonlit grove.

Jamie, falling asleep with her head on Dani’s chest.

Dani, waking slowly with Jamie in her arms.

It’s all the same, she wants to say. It’s all falling around us, moments, memories, in an endless sweep like rain. It’s all the same, she wants to say. You are here. I am here. We are here.

Time is unstable now. Jamie is sleeping in a chair, Dani’s hand on her shoulder. Jamie is sleeping in a bed, Dani inspecting her scar for the first time. Jamie is sleeping in a greenhouse, decades of life behind her, never to wake again. Opening her eyes at Dani’s knock on the door. To Dani, who has been waiting a second, a year, an eternity to welcome her home again.

Time is unstable.

Dani settles in for the ride.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #dani x jamie #damie #dani clayton #this is not quite what was prompted but it IS something I'd been batting around in my head for a few days #there is another ghost!dani story in me somewhere that is considerably lighter but uhh this is the one you get today

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

Text

Let’s Fall in Love for the Night

a/n: i listened to this song (let’s fall in love for the night by FINNEAS) and immediately got hit with matty vibes. enjoy! let me know if you wanna see more tkachuk writing!

Let’s fall in love for the night

And forget in the morning

Play me a song you like

You bet I’ll know every line

I’m the boy your boy hoped you’d avoid

Don’t waste your time on jealous guys, fuck that noise

I know better than to call you mine

You slammed the shot glass down on the bar, your face scrunching up as the tequila burned down your throat. You shook your head as the liquid settled in your stomach and then let out a sigh.

“I think I need another one,” you shouted over the music to your friend Jess.

“Whatever you need, babes,” she said, already leaning across the bar to wave down the bartender. “I know you just asked for space, but you need to dump his ass now.”

“I know what you think. You’ve been telling me every fifteen minutes,” you threw back at her, “but it’s not that easy. We’ve been together forever and I don’t really know what my life looks like without him anymore.”

“You get to hang out with me more,” she sang at you as two more shots appeared in front of you. “The biggest thing, babes, is that you deserve better than him on literally every level.”

You took the shot, knowing she was about to continue her rant of trashing your long-time boyfriend that she’d started five minutes before you’d even arrived at her house to pregame together.

“You are smarter than him. You are hotter than him, like look at you!” She gestured to your body and you rolled you eyes. You used her outstretched hand as an opportunity to put her shot in her hand. “Your ass looks killer in those pants and you and I both know it. Where was I? Oh, right! You are the breadwinner in that relationship. He has that lame-ass, poor-paying job and he refuses to get a better one even though you have the same degree. Who the fuck does that? You pretty much pay all of the bills while he does god knows what.”

She found a pause long enough to take her shot, which very clearly did not go down smoothly. She stuck her hand out to indicate she needed antoehr second before she could continue. You took the moment to order a drink, an actual beer instead of another shot.

“Most importantly of all!” Jess drummed her palms on the bar as she worked her way up to something. “He is terrible at sex!” You tried to shush her because she had shouted that loud enough to get the attention of a few interested parties around you, but you had no luck. “I mean, did her ever make you finish once? In three years? God, he sucks so bad and you need to actually for sure dump him and kick him out of the apartment you pretty much pay for by yourself. ”

You sighed, not loving your life choices that led to this moment right now. You were grateful the bartender dropped your beer in front of you so you could hide behind the bottle instead of answering. Part of you knew she was at least a little bit right, but you didn’t know what everything looked like without him and there were some parts of him that you couldn’t let go of, some moments that pulled at your heart when you thought about. He’d been so much worse lately though and you were having a hard time continuing to give him chances because a second chance happened so long ago you might have run out of numbers.

“Any reason a girl who looks this good is looking sad and drinking a pretty shitty beer at a bar on a Saturday night?”

You turned to see who had spoken and were met with piercing blue eyes and a mess of curly hair. Stubble coated his jawline and a smirk played at the corners of his mouth. Objectively attractive. Objectively your type. Objectively trouble.

“I’m Matthew,” he told you. “You are?”

You sighed, debating if you should cut him off with mercy like you were used to doing. Jess cut in before you could, telling him your name and hers before you could back out.

“So, about that terrible beer,” he picked it up and slid it close to the opposite edge of the bar from you, “can I buy you a better one?”

As if he knew, your phone lit up on the bar with your boyfriend’s name flashing across the screen, the hearts on either side of his name mocking you. You sighed and opened the text anyway.

I know you’re out with Jess right now and I just wanted to say that I know we’re taking some space right now, but space doesn’t include seeing other people to me. So I’m not gonna do it and I sure hope you’re not.

“Oh my god, give me your phone,” Jess whined from Matt’s opposite side. “I need to throw your phone into a blender. He needs to stop texting you.”

“Boyfriend?” Matthew asked you, an eyebrow raising at the question. “Seems like the jealous type if he’s texted that much.”

Your eyes shifted from your phone to Matthew and back again. He was trying to control you even after you asked for space. You were done just like that. You shot off a quick text to him that simply read ‘We’re done. Get your shit out of my apartment,’ then shoved shoved your phone into your purse, deciding to forget about him and whatever he was about to do next for the rest of the night.

“No, my ex. He still has shit at my apartment and is trying to figure out when he can come get it,” you replied

Jess started freaking out behind you, her fists pumping into the air in wild, uneven movements in her drunken excitement.

“Good,” Matthew smiled at you, “so, about that drink?”

Three more drinks each in an hour and you were stumbling through the front door of Matt’s apartment, his mouth clumsy against yours thanks to the alcohol and his efforts removing his jacket at the same time. You giggled when he cursed against you mouth as he had to pull way to actually get his jacket off. He tossed it somewhere behind you as his mouth reconnected with yours.

His hands were so different compared to your ex. You felt bad comparing them, that your mind was wandering there, but you couldn’t help it. Matthew pulled at different parts of you than he did. His hands on your hips, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, one of his legs pushing between yours as he guided you so your back was pressed against the nearest wall. One of his hands ran up towards your chest, your shirt riding up with it.

“Jesus, fuck,” Matthew groaned when he saw move of your body. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

“Then stop fucking around and fuck me already.”

Your last words came out as a moan as his mouth found your neck. He chuckled against your skin as he travelled down, sinking low so his lips could kiss along the edge of your low cut shirt. His large hands wrapped around the back of your thighs and he suddenly lifted you, drawing a yelp from you as your nails dug into his shoulders for stability.

“I hope you know what you’re in for.”

Apparently what you were in for was the best sex you’d ever had. Your chest was steal heaving with your second orgasm when Matt slid off the bed. He stepped into his boxers before grabbing his phone off of the nightstand.

“Any idea where my purse is?” you asked him.

“Uh, I think kitchen counter?” He said it like a question, so much so he threw in additional, “Maybe?”

You sighed and rolled yourself out of his bed, sliding on your panties and bra before heading toward the kitchen. Your purse hadn’t quite made it to the counter, falling short onto the floor. You grabbed your phone and headed back toward’s Matthew’s room. You audibly groaned when you saw the notifications on your phone. 13 missed calls. 7 voicemails. 26 text messages. All from him.

“Jesus,” you mumbled under your breath.

“I know I’m pretty good, but already moving on to god-like compliments?”

Matthew’s joke brought you out of the spiral your brain had started to go down. You scrunched your nose up at him and stuck your tongue out, which made him throw his head back and laugh.

“So you had a good time then,” he chided you. His phone hanging loose in his hands as he did nothing to hide the fact that his eyes were raking up and down your body right now. “Wanna go again?”

“Give me like ten minutes,” you mumbled.

You barely registering what he’d said as you started to scroll through his texts. Each one was crazier then the last. Guaranteed, you had ended a three-year relationship with a guy you lived with over text, but you hadn’t realized quite how unhinged he could sound sometimes. You’d barely gotten a quarter of the way in when your phone was taken from your hands.

“Hey, that’s mine!” you whined. Matt was dangling it above your head, completely out of your reach. “Matthew, give it back.”

“Mm, nope. It’s mine for tonight and so are you,” he informed you. “Pick a song.”

He offered his phone out to you instead, Spotify open for you. He wiggled it a little from side to side to try and peak your interest.

“Let’s forget about that douchebag after I just fucked you way better than he does, okay? You pick a song and then we’ll go again and I’ll fuck you even better. Deal?”

A smirk pulled at the corner’s of his mouth. He knew you weren’t going to say no before you’d even decided to say yes. You weren’t sure how he’d known it was your ex. You’d probably given it away somehow. Your mom had always told you that you were an open book, begging to be read. You sighed and took his phone, deciding this night you might regret was better than dealing with you current problems.

You played the first thing you could think of. You regretted your choice as the first few chords started and Matt started laughing at your choice.

“Sorry, that’s super fucking lame,” you mumbled as you began your search for a new song.

“No, no,” Matt’s hands wrapped over your to stop your movements. “I love this song, even though it’s definitely super fucking lame.”

You smiled up at him and it made a mirroring smile come across his face. You let go, letting yourself be entirely in this moment tonight. You let yourself forget the texts and voicemails waiting for you. You let yourself forget how horrible it going home tomorrow was going to be. Instead, you let a pair of beautiful blue eyes and a mess of curls distract you. You made him yours for the night, thinking that was all it could be.

You need a pick-me up?

I’ll be there in twenty-five

I like to push my luck

So take my hand, let’s take a drive

“Are you up?”

Matthew usually texted you. By usually you mean over the past two months where you’d seen him at least three times a week. Fresh off your breakup, he’d become a great regular distraction that made it worth your time to text him instead of trying your chances at the bar again. Apparently he was either drunk or couldn’t read a clock because it was midnight on a Tuesday and he was calling you.

“Well, I answered the phone,” you groaned as you rubbed your eyes with your free hand, trying to wake yourself up a bit. “What’s up, Matt?”

“You didn’t answer my text and I wanna see you tonight,” he told you.

“You’re the worst hook up I’ve ever had for my sleeping schedule,” you mumbled. “Look, Matt, I had a shit day at work and I really just want to sleep and-“”

“Get your shoes on. I’ll be there in like, half an hour.”

He hung up without even bothering to wait for an answer. You tossed your phone down your bed as you let yourself fall back into the blankets. You wanted to let them swallow you up and drag you back to sleep, but you knew Matt was showing up regardless of how you felt about it. You let your feet drop heavily on the floor and let out a sigh before pushing yourself out of bed. You threw your hair up, at least grateful you’d made yourself shower before you went to bed, and grabbed the first clean clothes you could find. The fact that he’d asked you to put on your shoes was odd, but it was Matt. You couldn’t really expect anything because.

The time flew by and Matthew was knocking on your front door before you could even fully process the situation. How he looked this good with joggers hung low on his hips, and a workout t-shirt at midnight you didn’t really know.

“You’re not wearing shoes,” Matt sang softly. “I thought you knew that part was non-negotiable.”

“You called me after I’d already been asleep for two hours. You should be amazed I’m vertical right now,” you grumbled at him as you slid on the nearest pair of sneakers you could find. “Where are we going?”

“You said you had a bad day.” Matt verbally skated around your question as he stepped into the hallway of your apartment, propping the door open for you. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you sighed. It had just been one of those days where there were too many little things that individually all sounded fine, but when put together had made you miserable. “How was your day?”

Matt shook his head at you and tsked softly, “Sharing is caring. And you can’t expect me to share if you don’t.”

“Do you like to try and sound like a kindergarten teacher to piss me off,” you stepped into the hallway and began fussing with the lock on your front door to get it to close, “or do you think it’s a kink for me? Spoiler alert, Matty, the answer is I fucking hate it.”

Matt laughed a full belly laugh and you finally heard the lock click into place. You spun on your heels to face Matthew. He smiled down at you and jutted one of his hands out into the space between you two.

“Let’s go for a drive. If you’re a good girl, I might even throw in some French fries at the end for ya.” A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth as he added, “And an orgasm or two because I’m feeling generous.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but the smile forming on your lips betrayed you. You practically slapped your hand against his as your grabbed it.

“Careful with the merchandise!” Matthew shouted. You shushed him, knowing your elderly neighbor was already none too thrilled with you since her bedroom wall was shared with yours. “Oh, that old bat has heard worse.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Matthew dragged you out to his car. Part of you, a part of you that you didn’t want to acknowledge, noted just how boyfriend-like this whole evening was. Or at least, that this isn’t what people who are just hooking up typically do. You pushed that thought aside. You knew this was just how Matthew was. This wasn’t serious and wasn’t on its way to it, but it could be self-contained serious. Each night could be serious. You could fall for him each and every single night you were with him if you wanted to, as long as the feelings were gone by the time the morning came.

I love it when you talk that nerdy shit

We’re in our twenties talking thirties shit

We’re making money but we’re saving it

‘Cause talking shit is cheap and we talk a lot of it

You won’t stay with me, I know

But you can have your way with me ‘til you go

“Okay, okay, try me again,” Matt said slowly, his fingertips tapping slowly on table between you. “I definitely won’t get it this time, but it’s hot when you’re smart.”

You rolled your eyes at him, a frequent occurrence, and shook your head softly. You grabbed your orange juice and took a few swigs of it before trying to explain the intricacies of your problem at work to him. He was cute and he was really good at hockey, but his ability to understand your job was lacking. Matthew still tried to understand though, even though he knew he probably wouldn’t get it. Your ex could understand, you’d gone to school together, but he never tried. It was the morning though, so you couldn’t be in love with Matty right now. That feeling, that temporary love, was reserved for nights in his bed or yours.

“Okay, I still don’t get it,” Matthew sighed, clearly a little frustrated with himself. “But you clearly know what you’re doing and you’re way too smart for me. I hope our babies get your smarts, but my hockey sense. You still can’t figure out offsides.”

“How many babies am I pushing out here, Tkachuk?” You raised an eyebrow at him, but you knew he was just talking shit, trying to get a reaction out of you. “Also, offsides is complicated and I’ve got a college degree taking up space in my brain where you have hockey knowledge.”

“I was thinking three,” Matt told you as he tossed his coffee cup between his hands, sliding it across the table with each toss. “I’ll strap them in skates as soon as they can walk, make them fall in love with hockey before your brains take over and they decide to become doctors or something ridiculous.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t that just be the worst thing if little Matty became a doctor instead of a hockey player?” You lifted your glass to your lips and smiled against the edge. “Absolutely the worst thing that could happy to him.”

“Exactly.” Matthew’s smile was evident in his voice. “Glad you’re on board with this plan.”

“Mm, I think you owe me some jewelry and a big party before I pop out any kids for you, Matt,” you sighed as you set your cup back down on the table.

“You’re so fucking picky. I’m just going to stand there in the jewelry store with a blank check and let you go ape shit,” Matt informed you.

“Thinking about wifing me up, huh?” you joked.

The words came out of your mouth and you knew you’d gone too far. Everything else was just running your mouths, something you both needed to keep things light and non-committal. But that joke was walking dangerously close to asking for a real commitment and a future.

“Do you want me to be thinking about it?”

You had absolutely no idea how your were supposed to feel after hearing his response. He was pushing the issue back on you, trying to get you to admit if your question was a joke that didn’t quite land or if it was serious. The problem was you honestly didn’t know. You knew you weren’t looking for anything. You knew you hadn’t let Matthew take you home the night you met at the bar to start anything. He wasn’t the type of guy you would have ever seen yourself with, but maybe that’s because you’d only ever pictured your future with one specific person.

“Is it okay if I don’t really know?”

The question was risky, because up until that moment everything was completely casual. You were forcing an issue that you weren’t even sure was really what you wanted or not.

“I’m good however you want to be. I just like being around you,” Matthew told you. “Whatever you want that to look like, I’m down for.”

You smiled and took his open ending as an opportunities to change the ton of the conversation with, “What if I wanted to move to the Bahamas and become a scuba instructor with you and our three kids?”

“Give up my hockey career to see you in a bikini everyday? Sign me the fuck up.”

I know better

I know better than to ever call you mine

It was like that conversation had only happened in your mind. You’d left the diner that day and Matthew acted like everything was exactly the same as it had been when you walked in an hour prior. You pretended too, because what else were you supposed to do?

“Okay so,” Matthew tossed the stress ball from your desk up into the air and paused to ensure he caught it on its journey back down. “I wanted to ask if you’d come to this party thing the team’s having. It’s like, kinda nice, but I promise it’ll be low-key. I’ll even buy you a new dress for it. Well, I’m gonna let one of the guys’ wives do it. Call it a gift for putting up with me for so long.”

You had said yes without even thinking really. Also, you said yes without realizing Matthew was totally lying about how nice the event was. When the dress arrived on your doorstep, you unboxed it, expecting something just on the right side of too revealing. Instead, you found an absolutely stunning right, knee length formal dress.

“Matthew,” you sighed to yourself in your empty apartment, the dress in your hands. “What are you doing here?”

You mentally blocked out more time to get ready than you’d previously been planning, knowing you had to step up your game this time. Still didn’t mean you weren’t rushing to put the last bobby pin in place when Matthew knocked on your door that Friday evening.

“It’s open!” you shouted from your bathroom.

“You know, that’s not really safe!” Matthew shouted back, his voice getting louder as he came toward you, his dress shoes tapping against the floorboards as he walked. “You know I could’ve been- holy fuck.”

You turned to see Matthew standing in the doorway of your bathroom, his eyes raking up and down your body unabashedly. One of his hands gripped the doorframe in support as his eyes lingered at his favorite areas of your body.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed out. “You look unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” you smiled softly. Your nerves were rising under his intense gaze and you kept fidgeting with a strand of your hair. “Thank you for the dress. And thank whoever picked it out for me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Definitely gonna have to thank her.”

You giggled a little at just how in shock he still was. Guaranteed, he’d never seen you actually try and look this good before. The best you’d probably ever looked for him was the night at the bar where you met.

“Are you ready to go?” Matthew asked after clearing his throat. He finally had collected himself enough.

“Just gotta our the heels on and then yes,” you replied, motioning for him to get out of your way so you could get to your heels in your bedroom across the hall.

You sat down on the edge of your bed and began winding the straps of your heels around your ankle. Jess has picked them out when she saw the dress. They were a little cumbersome to put on, but they looked incredible with Matthew’s gift, so you dealt with the hassle of getting them on.

“Hey um, I wanted to talk to you about something before we go,” Matthew asked, his voice shaky.

For someone who was usually so confident it was almost a turn off, he was practically green when you looked up at him, taking a physical and mental break before putting on your other shoe. His hands were clenching and in clenching at his sides.

“Look uh, I know you’re,” he paused and looked you over again before continuing. “Well, you’re you and I’m me and this is stupid why did I start this?”

He sighed and let his head fall back, his curls flopping back as he gathered his thoughts. He cursed softly before looking back at you.

“I know I said I’d be whatever you wanted in the diner, that it was up to you and anything would be fine with me.” He finally met your eyes. “But I don’t think anything is fine with me. Fuck, I know better than to think you’re mine, but you feel like mine. God, you really, really do.”

He had crossed the room and was standing in front of you before you could process the words coming out of his mouth. Matthew’s hands grabbed yours and he pulled you to your feet, keeping you steady because you were still only wearing one heel.

“I love being around you,” Matthew told you, his baby blues looking into your eyes. You felt like he was looking straight into you, into the parts that made you who you were. “You’re one of my favorite people I’ve ever met. I know I shouldn’t ask. You’re so successful and smart and strong and you deserve so much better than me. I know better than to think you’d want to be with me, but fuck, do you want to be with me? Because that’s what I really want.”

You didn’t even have to think about your answer. You knew it. You steadied yourself against him and pressed your lips to his. His arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground to eliminate the rockiness from the one heel situation. His mouth felt different against yours, eager, but tender and caring in a way you’d never felt before from him or anyone.

“Mine,” he whispered against your lips, his smile making kissing you too challenging in that moment. “You’re mine now.”

“Kinda already was,” you laughed lightly. “Glad you’re taking the position of boyfriend up officially.”

“Oh shit. Miscommunication. I was promoting myself right to future husband,” Matthew joked. “Guess I gotta earn that promotion now, huh?”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #hockey imagine #hockey writing #hockey fanfiction

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choices-ethanramsey-4life · 3 years

Text

Part 2 of days with you make me feel better...

Pairing: EthanXMc (Samantha Valentine)

Warning: slightly on the angsty side

Description for part 2:

Ethan has come to the realisation that he cares too much about Samantha. He can’t be due to being her boss she could lose her job so he decided to move away to the Amazon and hide his feelings away. But when Samantha goes through something deeper... will Ethan be there to help her or will she deal with it alone?

P.s in my one Naveen Banerji is her parents friend when she was a kid. However overtime they lost contact after she left home at 18. They meet again during her intern year when Naveen is dying.

It had been 3 weeks since she’s seen Ethan... she would wake up at 6am every morning. Go to work like always work until late go home, eat and sleep. She was stuck in a cycle of repeating herself. She felt lost. She felt the pain and acceptance of losing her brother. It’s stupid she thought that her brother died almost ten years ago and now she’s finally knows and accepted it. Ethan was gone.

He left her she still remembered when Naveen announced it in the atrium Ethan had gone to the Amazon.

“Samantha, we’re going to Donahues want to come?” Jackie knocks on her bedroom door which was locked. There was no response. When Samantha found out her mom was dying she did the same thing she locked herself in her bedroom and became quiet...which was shocking for her friends when they saw this side to her for the girl who can talk for hours non stop about anything.

All of her friends tried to get her out of her room they tried everything. It didn’t work.

At Donahues

“What are going to do?” Elijah asks drinking his drink.

“It’s not healthy. She doesn’t sleep, she doesn’t eat she just sits in her room. She only comes out for work, even then she barely says two words at work.” Sienna sounded upset.

“Why? What happened?” Aurora asked. She had been with them for a while now and she fitted right in, despite not moving in the apartment yet.

“It’s her brother, he died like ten years ago but she had a hard time accepting he was gone. She’s hurting.”

“There must be something we can do.” Bryce asks.

“Unless one of us should just try and talk to her instead of all of going together.” Raf suggested.

“Yeah it’s a good idea. Whose going to go first?” Kyra raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll go first I don’t mind.” Bryce speaks up.

“Ok Bryce will talk to her and then bring her here, she’s going to enjoy herself.” Sienna says

“Ok but meathead don’t bore Samantha.” Jackie rolls her eyes as they all go home.

Once they reached the apartment Sienna calls out for Samantha.

“Samantha? Samantha sweetie it’s Sienna, did you eat dinner?” To her surprise the door unlocked as she enters to see Samantha by her window sitting on the ledge with her sketch book and pencil in her hand.

Sienna sits beside her as the rest of the roommates plus Aurora stand outside peering in trying to Listen.

“How are you?”

“I...I don’t know.” Samantha leans against the wall putting her sketch book down.

“Me and everyone else are going out tomorrow to Donahues. Come please.” Siennas eyes pleaded. Everyone outside had high hopes.

Samantha hesitated and thought for a second as she said “sure...ok.” Sienna saw her smile which she hadn’t seen in weeks.

***Samanthas POV***

Did I feel alone? Yes. Did I feel like I was stuck in a constant cycle of just breathing not living? Yes. Did I want to be alone? No.

I hold the locket tight in my hand and open it.

“Mom, Jake missing you guys loads...” the picture of mom and Jake...and dad.

I know my dad is alive and well... but I wasn’t ready to see him after the years of abuse... it wasn’t the right time.

The next morning I woke up and opened the door. Elijah and Jackie just staring at me with their coffee mugs in their hands.

“Morning Samantha...” Elijah spoke slightly surprised.

“...morning...” my voice came out small.

“Coffee?” Jackie asks as I nod yes and sit on the couch.

“Morning Jackie, Elijah...Samantha?” Sienna looks perplexed second and then says

“I’ll make breakfast...” they all talked I just listened it diverted my mind as Sienna got breakfast ready.

“Samantha are you not going to eat?”

“I’m not hungry...” I get up walking back into my room thinking maybe I shouldn’t of come out. Everyone’s acting weirdly.

“Please Samantha just a little bit.” I turn to face the three in the room and nod.

But all that’s going through my mind are two things Ethan and the loss of Jake. That maybe if I was fast enough...or didn’t end up arguing with Jake beforehand just maybe he could be alive.

I sit in my room until it was time to get dressed Jackie and Sienna barged in with dresses and shoes.

“Right Samantha get up we’re all getting ready let’s go!” Jackie exclaimed as we got dressed.

Sienna who wore a light blush coloured dress just above her knees with her hair out and wavy. A simple necklace which had a small crystal the same colour as her dress.

Jackie who had a dark blue dress laced in with silver. She refused to take her hair out but that’s our Jackie.

“Samantha what about you? You haven’t even tried on a dress.”

“She’s too small to fit into mine...” Jackie pointed out as they looked through and Jackie pulled out a red dress and Sienna a black one laced with gold.

“Samantha what about these?” My eyes set on the black one Ethan gifted it to me 2 weeks before he left.

“Right then the black one it is!” Sienna exclaimed excitedly as she curled my hair and got my black heels and we set out.

We sit inside at Donahues everyone there Raf, Kyra, Bryce and Aurora.

I even saw Zaid and Ines with some other residents.

And then my eyes followed the main spot the first spot I saw when I came into Donahues for the first time. But it was empty. The person who used to sit there was gone. Reggie waves and smiles at me as I gave a friendly smile back.

Over the weeks I would go out alone at times see Reggie we’d talk and I’d sit in the back get my sketch book out and draw.

I sit by the table with my friends they talk I’m there but my mind isn’t.

“Samantha want a drink?” Raf asks

“No...I’m ok thanks.” He nods smiling.

I felt suffocated sitting here as if I couldn’t breathe I shouldn’t of come. Everyone just asking me if I’m ok every 5 second and why I wasn’t here last week. My breath felt like it was being taken away like someone or something inhaled all of the oxygen.

My hands shaking in my lap.

“Samantha?” Kyra put a hand on my shoulder.

“I..I..I’ll be right back.” They watch me leave Reggie did to concern waving over his smile.

I run out the oxygen back into me as I sit down on the step outside raking my hands through my curly hair. I hear footsteps behind me and a figure sitting beside me.

“Hey? You good?” My head facing down I shake my head but a small “no” comes out breathless. He knew I was having a panic attack, he helped me and then asked

“Are you ok? What happened?” As if a dam had burst I stood up so did he as I spoke out mainly anger coming out with hints of pain which only grew as I finished speaking.

“Why does everyone ask me that every 5 second?! You want the truth then no! No I’m not ok! It’s my fault! Everything is my fault! My brother died because of me.” My voice break at the end with tears I sit back down on the step.

Bryce coming closer hand on my shoulder “no it’s not it was an accident ok. You didn’t do anything.”

“I...I c-could of st-stopped h-him from leaving.”

“How? You were injured weren’t you? How would you of ran after him with all those stitches? Trust me I’m a surgeon I know what I’m talking about.” He joked

I laughed for a second as he hugged me tight and close. After I calmed down for a bit he says

“Why did Ramsey leave?”

“What?” I let go looking at him.

“I know you know...”

“Yeah?”

“Obviously...”

“Ok then but not here. I want to take you somewhere, it’s my special place when Si, Elijah and Jackie told you guys I used to go out at town alone I’ll take you there it’s better.” He nods as his phone lit up.

“I’ll tell them we’re going somewhere quieter less noise yeah?” We nod as he gets into is car we sit as i directed him

“You know I could of just drove us there right? I’m an amazing driver and more safer than you.”

“What?!” He threw a fake face of offence as we laughed. “I would let you drive but do you legs even reach the pedals? And can you see over the wheel or do I need to get you a book for you to sit on?” He joked.

I slapped his shoulder lightly, “hey!”

After 10 minutes of driving we reached.

“We’re going to have to walk it like 10 minutes come on almost there.” We reach the top of the green hill the cities light shining bright and the stars which twinkled.

“What is this place?” He asked

“This is my place of peace. When things become hard or I need to wind down alone I come here...it reminds me that life is crooked.”

“What?” He asks smiling but slightly confused.

I turn him to the distance a sign of a building in red LED lights flashing “Life” written across but it was backwards the way we saw it.

“Life is crooked. Things go wrong, things go right. We find happiness and love sometimes it’s life long...and sometimes it’s a limited time. We only get a few glimpses of it before pain and darkness comes.” He looks at me as I look over at the city view and continue to say,

“I already knew that in life the people we love the most we always take them for granted. We think that we wont separate from one another but when life comes in it’s crooked ways it can. We make life long promises forgetting how short it really is. They say that you don’t miss someone’s company and them until they’re gone...you don’t realise what impact they’ve created until they’ve left you. There’s so many moments with our loved ones which remember for the rest of our lives...and maybe even after our life when we die.”

He looked over thinking about what I said.

“You said why did Ethan leave? I don’t know. There are few reasons but either could be wrong. He knows why he left and I’ll leave it at that.”

“Ok sure. And Samantha this place is beautiful I can see why you like it out here.”

“Don’t tell anyone about it can it just stay between us please.” He nods smiling.

“Sure.” We sit on ground sitting talking looking at stars I remember mom and Jake.

It’s like she said “the brightest stars that shine are those who you’ve lost but love.”

And she was right. We sit over talking my phone in my hand debating to call Ethan or not.

But now I wanted to enjoy my place of peace...

For Samantha still hurting her hurt Lessing when she shared with a friend at her place of peace.

P.s Thanks soo much for reading this part i was thinking of extending this fic as I have a few details I want to write in it might end up being 4 parts instead of 3.

Tags:

@schnitzelbutterfingers

#choices ethan ramsey #choices open heart #ethan ramsey #open heart #open heart ethan #bryce lahela #choices bryce #choices jackie #jackie varma #open heart jackie #oh choices #choices oh #open heart book 3 #open heart book 2

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what-big-teeth · 4 years

Text

Admire (Male Naga ; Fic Raffle)

And done! @glugenash requested a meet-cute between a male reader and a naga of any gender. I decided to go with a male naga and let my imagination take hold to make this wonderful idea even cuter. I hope you all enjoy this fic! Male Reader (POV) x Male Monster If there’s one place you can truly relax while curling up with a good book, it’s the library.

Ever since you moved into town for a better job opportunity, you attempted to combat the new stressors that turned up as a result. Exercise, meditation, doing the bare minimum on the weekends. Nothing could compare to the public library and its innate charm. This is why you’re seated at your favorite table.

Tucked into one of the historical building’s many corners beside a large window, there’s always just enough sunlight to happily bask in and use while reading. These simple reasons—and the woodsy, vanillin scent of the surrounding book collection—are why you’ve decided to revisit an old series. Something about embracing a nostalgic memory at your table alleviates your pent-up stress like nothing else.

Which is why the sensation of being watched feels so foreign.

You’ve attempted to look around as discreetly as possible. But your eyes haven’t encountered anything out of the ordinary. Just the usual, book-lined shelves and wooden lectern holding an old, massive dictionary.

Still, you can’t fully shake the feeling. Your gut has rarely led you astray, which is why you keep glancing around. After a fleeting moment, you think you see a dark shape shrink away behind a nearby shelf. You stand up, intent on finding out who your odd observer is. But an insistent buzzing from your jeans pocket breaks your focus. Knowing that your library hasn’t made the full transition to a ‘loud facility’ yet, you step away from your spot, leaving your book behind to take the call outside.

Unsurprisingly, it’s work. Or rather, your boss. One of your co-workers has taken ill suddenly, and he needs you to fill in for her shift until he recovers. There’ll be extra pay as compensation, which helps to sweeten the deal. But when your boss mentions the project your co-worker has been toiling over for the last few weeks, you silently wince. You honestly would rather not take on the extra work, but the extra money would really help.

Your boss says your name in a questioning manner. Looks like you accidentally zoned out.

“Sure thing,” you say with a forced, cheerful tone. You can already feel the mounting stress that’ll have you on edge. With a final, merry “thanks!” and farewell, the call ends. This new development calls for some extra self-care.

You head back inside the library, making your way over to the built-in cafe. It’s a welcomed new addition, especially since they make some of the best, homebrew tea and pastries you’ve ever had. With your cup of honeyed chamomile and warmed confection in hand, you return to your sunshine laden table.

Your book is in its usual spot, but it’s been closed with a tasseled bookmark keeping track of your place. You didn’t pick up one while greeting Jason at the circulation desk. After mentally marking which page you left off on, you untuck it from between the pages. The design is, well, it’s amazing. Hand drawn swirls of complimentary colors balance each other out while being lined with careful, fine-tipped black lines. And the tassel is uniquely soft to the touch, the threads feeling similar to silk. You’re so drawn to the workmanship of the bookmark that you almost overlook the neatly folded piece of paper on the table.

The Farandale Chronicles is one of my favorite series. If you’d like to read something similar, I’d like to suggest the Crystal of Might series, written by Malkus Morak. — D

You re-read the note a few times. But no matter how much you attempt to place the neat handwriting, you can’t. There isn’t anything untoward about the suggestion, honestly. And the bookmark is an unexpected, if creative gift. Decision made, you replace the bookmark and head over to the Science Fiction section.

It doesn’t take long to find the suggested book and read the blurb on the jacket’s interior. You can’t deny that it sounds like something right up your alley. Even better, there are three more books in the series.

“Think I will try this out,” you mutter to yourself. “Thanks for the suggestion, D.”

You bundle the new book together with your old favorite, being cautious of your food, and fall in line before the circulation desk. It doesn’t take long for you to reach the front and greet the tawny, curly-haired minotaur behind the counter with a smile.

“How are things going, Jason?” He nods in reply, stalwart as ever as he carefully checks both books for possible damage before checking them out to you.

“Three weeks, as usual,” he murmurs with a deep voice. He gestures to the new book you’ve decided to read. “Should I put the sequel on hold for you?”

“That’d be great!”

After nimbly using the keyboard to complete your request, he hands both books to you with a gentle puff of air.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

Wetting your lips, you tug the handwritten note from between the cover and first page of Morak’s book.

“Would you happen to know whose handwriting this is?”

Jason gently takes the note from you, his warm brown eyes scanning the contents. With a small cough, he hands it back to you.

“Sorry, I don’t. But I’m glad they wrote on a slip of paper instead of damaging the book.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Ever since you met him, Jason’s always been a stickler for the rules when it comes to the library. Quiet yet firm. You pocket the note, being careful to not crease it any further.

“That’s fine,” you say. “It was worth a shot, anyway.”

“Be sure to finish your food while on site,” he says. “The Director is still leery about folks taking off with the cafe’s food.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, smiling. “There’s a bench outside that called to me when I stepped out earlier. Take care.”

As you leave with your new reading materials and food, you can’t stop the thrill of excitement that wells up inside you. Besides being a place of reprieve, you beloved library has provided an interesting mystery as well. And it’s one you intend to solve.

_______________________________________________

Like clockwork, you return the same day next week. Thankfully, your boss was kind enough to give you the weekend off after you took on your duties and that of your sick co-worker. It gives you just enough time to destress at the library. This time, you make a beeline for the cafe, ordering some calming tea and a new, but delectable looking pastry. Jason greets you at the circulation desk and checks out Molak’s second book to you. Once you’ve checked that your usual spot hasn’t been taken, you swiftly lay claim with your purchased items and settle in your seat.

After drinking your tea and eating your pastry, you find yourself feeling better. You open the hardback’s cover, highly interested in seeing what’ll happen to the protagonists next. But two slips of paper flutter out from the book, like before. The material is thicker this time around, similar to reinforced sketchbook paper. Your eyes widen as you realize why.

The subject of the drawing is someone you know too well. It’s you. The sketch depicts a past you sitting where you are now, looking content with a soft smile on your face as you read. Little details jump out as you take in the entirety of the work. The slight dents on the side of the old table you graze your hand over time and time again. The way you hold a book that you find immensely but surprisingly pleasing. The almost starstruck expression lighting up your features as you leave this world for another while reading…

Underneath, in familiar elegant writing, the caption reads ‘Entranced Beauty’. Heat wells up within your cheeks as you read the words over and over again. Your fingertip glides against the lettering as you pick up the other slip of paper from the carpeted floor.

There have been many times I’ve wanted to tell you how wonderful you look when you’re lost in your own world. But I’m afraid that, verbally, words fail me. At least this skill of mine can say more than what I could ever hope. For a while now, I’ve hoped I could be invited to come along with you as another book takes hold of your imagination. But I refuse to think that such lofty hopes can be achieved, considering what I am. I’m merely glad that my suggestion was pleasing to you, and I hope I can continue to provide doors for you to walk through when you need a break from this world. — D

Your heart pounds loudly inside your chest and head as the heat in your cheeks spread throughout your whole body. All you can think about is discovering who your admirer is and meeting them face to face. After all, someone who can write and such sweet thoughts and draw so beautifully can’t be as bad as they think. With this thought as encouragement, you find Molak’s collection and take the third book of his series from the shelf. You wait in line behind a couple, a gorgon and gargoyle, as Jason helps them with their items. Once they’re taken care of, you step up to the circulation desk and set the book down.

“Find everything you were looking for?” he asks.

You’re tempted to say ‘yes’, but stop short.

“No,” you say. “I...I need your help.”

You show Jason the sketch and note, asking once again if he happens to know anything. After all, the note and sketch had to be put in place before you checked out the second book. And all holds are reserved behind the circulation desk for all patrons.

A strange silence falls between the two of you. It’s broken by Jason coughing into his closed fist as he averts his gaze.

“You do know something, don’t you?” you murmur.Jason glances your way before letting his eyes drop to the computer screen in front of him.

“I get it.” You pause to reign in your voice, surprised at the sudden loudness of it. “I understand you’re trying to protect D, especially because they feel like they can’t face me. But you know me, Jason. I won’t hurt them. I just want to meet them and tell them my appreciation.”

Once more, you bring out the sketch and place it on the circulation desk before you. “Please, help me.”

Jason’s gaze finds the sketch and settles on it. He finally lets out a soft huff of air then rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“I didn’t realize how deeply D fell for you,” he says. “I thought it was just a crush. Alright. I’ll help you out. Not only do you deserve a happy ending, but so does D. Just...be gentle with him, alright? He’s been through a lot.”

“I will,” you say, letting your words carry your promise. “Thank you, Jason.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he mutters. “Gonna have to see how this goes, first. Alright, D always comes like clockwork on Wednesday evenings...”

You take Jason at his word and return to the library at the time and day he suggested. Sure, it involved rearranging your work schedule somewhat, but your now-well co-worker was more than happy to return the favor you showed her. Probably helps that she’s somewhat of a romantic and readily agreed after you explained the situation to her.With careful steps, you make your way towards your usual spot. The last few rays of the setting sun fall onto the table and the naga sitting at it.

The quiet breath you’re taking in stalls at the sight.

With rich, golden brown skin, you can’t help but wonder why D would think himself unattractive. More so thanks to his jet black hair, which is pulled back into a bun, and his matching scales. Even the slight creme of his underbelly, which you can barely make out due to his button-down shirt, is charming. Remembering Jason’s advice, you carefully approach the table as he remains lost in a book held in his clawed hands. It’s the third book in Molak’s fantasy series. You can’t help but smile at the realization.

“Excuse me,” you say.

D startles, tensing at your soft voice. His pupils dilate somewhat in reply as he looks at you. With him looking head on at you, you notice the scaled skin on the sides of his neck. A hood, like that of a cobra. He looks close to bolting right then and there, but you gently press on.

“By chance, are you D?”

D gulps down a few breaths of air.

“N-no, I’m…”

Your body intuitively moves, laying a gentle hand on his upper arm in what you hope is a soothing gesture.

“I want the same thing,” you say. “I want to let you into my world so that we can make one of our own. Together.”

The scaled hood at his neck flares somewhat, but you don’t feel any fear. If anything, you’re entranced. How can such a charming, handsome naga think he’s anything less? After a few tense moments, D finally relaxes then nods.

“I...I am D.”

He meets your gaze, and you almost feel yourself fall into the molten gold of his eyes.

“I didn’t want you to know because not too many people want anything to do with me. My lineage is from a King Cobra clan, which makes me venomous. And that tends to make others uncomfortable. I-I didn’t want you to feel the same, but I couldn’t hide how I felt about you after I first saw you a few months ago. Jason thought...he suggested I could let you know anonymously and I agreed. I thought that would be best. I’m just surprised you’d want to seek me out.”

You can’t help but smile while gently gripping D’s upper arm.

“You left me with an amazing mystery to solve. And as much as you want to know me, I found myself wanting to know the person behind the ‘D’ moniker. I still do, if that’s alright with you.”

D gives you a soft smile in return, which reveals a hint of his sharp fangs. They’re rather cute, just like the rest of him. He stands up and extends a hand towards you.

“Then, let me officially introduce myself. I’m Danilo.”

You take his hand and shake it while giving him your name. When he attempts to pull his hand away, you gently squeeze it. Danilo’s breath catches as you maneuver your fingers so they twine with his.

“B-by chance,” he nearly squeaks out, “do you like Filipino food? I know a place that serves dishes similar to what I grew up with back home.”

“I haven’t had it before,” you say, “but I’m excited to try it out. I hope you don’t mind acting as my culinary tour guide.”

Danilo gives you another soft smile as he huffs out a laugh.

“Not at all.”

You both head towards the circulation desk, where you see Jason positively beaming at the two of you. As Danilo tells you about his work as a graphic designer and animator, you find yourself hanging on his every word. As he hands Jason the third and final book of the trilogy, you smile.

You can’t wait to see what else you both have in common.

#monster boyfriend #monster/human #monster romance #exophilia #naga boyfriend #terato #300 Follower Raffle #I hope you all enjoy!

158 notes · View notes

fanficflaneuse · 4 years

Text

Life in Black - The Pilot

Index

Episode 1: The Pilot

A/N: GIF is not mine, I found it on Giphy. I hope you like this experiment. It is a mixture of narration and scriptwriting.

Words: 2341

Summary: Bellatrix decides she wants to live with her younger sister and her brother-in-law.

Opening Sequence

Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy sat in front of each other. Just like every morning, they took breakfast in the porch, overlooking the gardens. Narcissa insisted it reminded her of her homeland and Lucius knew better than to challenge her. He indulged her instead. He read The Daily Prophet as she drank her tea.

Narcissa was in the middle of a story about the preparations for the Paris Wizarding Fashion Week, when they were shaken by a loud bang from the house. The couple ran inside, wands out and faces full of concern. The elves ran frantically to the living room. As they approached, Narcissa relaxed and Lucius tensed even more.

“Bella!” said Narcissa, approaching her eldest sister and giving her a hug. Lucius took a deep breath, bracing himself up for whatever was coming; Bellatrix and him were barely on speaking terms.

“About time you came to greet me, sister” she answered.

“We weren’t expecting you,” mentioned Lucius.

“Do you hear something, Cissy?” said Bellatrix, pretending her brother-in-law wasn’t in the room.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here, Bella? I thought you and Rodolphus had moved back to Paris?”

“Don’t even mention him to me. We’re getting a divorce,” she said casually, not a hint of sorrow or melancholy in her voice.

Both Lucius and Narcissa eyed her warily. “I am so sorry, sister,” said Narcissa after a moment of awkward silence.

“Oh, don’t be. It was doomed from the beginning.”

“That’s what happens when you marry for convenience,” Narcissa said, shaking her head at the memory of Bellatrix’s rushed, loveless marriage.

“If the other option was to end with a slob like your husband, then no thank you.”

“Excuse you?” he said, outraged.

(NARCISSA MALFOY) TALKING HEAD.

(Narcissa sits on a very elegant armchair. The room is full of paintings and photographs staring at her. In the back of the room, above a marble chimney, there’s a very big portrait in which Lucius and Narcissa stand on either side of a teenager. He resembles Lucius and smiles awkwardly.)

“My sister...she’s truly something. I can’t really put it into words,” she says, politely smiling at the camera.

(Lucius comes into focus. He’s sitting on another armchair).

“She’s crazy,” he adds, deadly serious. Narcissa frowned at him.

(Bellatrix comes into focus, half sitting on Narcissa’s chair arm).

“Excuse you?” she exclaims, mimicking his previous outburst.

[Back to scene]

Lucius and Bella bickered for a while. Even the elves stuffed their ears with cotton balls so they didn’t have to hear them. Narcissa grew bored a few minutes into their petty drama; it was always the same with them. This time, though, the fact that Bellatrix had decided to move in with them without even asking made their usual passive aggressiveness less passive and more aggressive.

After Lucius stormed off and Bellatrix chose to establish herself in the closest room to theirs, Narcissa decided to call the big guns (also known as her sister Andromeda). She knew her sisters didn’t have a good relationship, but she was also sure she couldn’t deal Bella full time on her own.

(BELLATRIX LESTRANGE) TALKING HEAD.

(Bellatrix sits cross-legged on a champagne coloured divan. It’s placed in front of a big window that oversees the Malfoy gardens. As she talks, a flock of albino peacocks runs in the background).

“My relationship with Andromeda? Oh, it’s nonexistence. Since she married that mudbl- oh right, everyone’s offended by everything nowadays. So, the pc term is muggleborn, right? Well, ever since she married that muggleborn and had a half blood spawn of the devil I decided I just have one sister. She also married an absolute tosser, but at least he brought a pure last name to the table.”

[Back to scene]

Andromeda appeared a few hours later, ready to see her sister for the first time since she got engaged. The two estranged sisters bared a very close resemblance. They were both tall women with curly hair, big, blue eyes, long eyelashes, thin lips and sharp jaw. Anyhow, as they sat by either side of Narcissa, she thought there couldn’t be in the world two more different people. Andromeda’s soft, brown curls in a fancy updo complemented her face and made her look younger. Her eyes were full of kindness and patience. Their older sister, on the other hand, had a thick, raven hair, which looked as though she had hardly combed it. It made her come across as a patient of St. Mungo’s fourth floor.

The sisters sipped tea stiffly and avoided eye contact. Narcissa decided that the feud needed to end, for her own mental wellbeing.

“Andy, Bella is now living with us here,” she said.

“What?” Andromeda now looked at her older sister, trying to the decipher the mask of indifference Bellatrix had always worn.

“Go ahead, laugh all you want,” said Bellatrix, a sardonic smile on her face.

Andromeda was left speechless for a few seconds. Narcissa could see her sister’s mind working and tried to amend Bella’s words.

“She meant -”

“Do you really think I’m so heartless, Bellatrix?”

“Well, you did change your beloved family for a dick,” she shot.

(NARCISSA MALFOY) TALKING HEAD

“I really can’t blame Andy.”

She has a knowing smile as she says this.

(Lucius comes into focus).

He smirks and nods.

[Back to scene]

“Well, Bella, at least I was transparent with my intentions. What were yours exactly? Have a pure and most noble last name and a bit on the side? We’ve all heard about that one, even Cissy, even if she pretends not to.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Andromeda.”

“Tom Riddle. Does it ring a bell? Toujours pur and all that crap only to end your marriage for a fling with none other than an ex - convict,” she spat.

“You’ll drown in your self righteousness, dear. How bored you must be with that husband of yours and all our stupid social norms.”

“You’re talking to me about social norms? You burned my face out of the family’s tapestry when I got engaged to Ted.”

“It was just a game and Cissy fixed it.”

“Just a game? For whom? An arsonist?”

“Your insufferable! Always thinking you’re the better sister, the prettier sister, the perfect sister.”

“I am the prettier sister,” said Narcissa flatly; she had already grown bored of Bella bickering with everyone.

“I never said that!”

“You thought about it! I know you did. You think I’m unbalanced. You think I should be in an insane asylum or something, but I’ll tell you what, I’m smarter than you are. Wait till I fix my hair and climb out of the pit of desperation I’m in and I’ll even be prettier than you are.”

“It’s not a competition, Bella,” reminded Narcissa, “although if it was none of you would stand a chance against me.”

As always, the older sisters ignored the youngest one and concentrated on outsmarting one another. A loud bang came from the other end of the room. Narcissa, cigarette in one hand and lighter in the other, turned her head to see her cousin, Sirius and his husband, Remus. She shot them an almost pleading look as they took seats by her side as Andy and Bella had long since discarded their place.

“Cissa, toss me the light,” he said, lying back on the couch.

“No, no, darling. This is bad for your health,” she answered as she put the cigarette between her lips.

Sirius raised a brow. “You taught me how to smoke,” he remarked.

As she refused again and he was about to give her some new argument, Remus put his hand on his spouse’s thigh. “Remember your new year’s resolutions,” he said in a sing-song voice.

Sirius groaned.

“What brings you two here. It’s been a while,” said Narcissa.

“Andy told us you invited her and we wanted to make sure Bellatrix didn’t rip her head off,” shrugged Remus.

(ANDROMEDA TONKS) TALKING HEAD

(Andromeda sits on a grey, L shaped couch. Her living room is small and cozy. It looks exceptionally clean. She’s surrounded by plants. Behind her, there’s a big shelf full of frayed books).

“Rip my head off? What, because I’m the only one of the Blacks who wouldn’t be diagnosed as a loony then I’d let Bella walk all over me? No, sir. I showed them right then and there I could also roast someone.”

She looks pleased with herself, but her smile falters a few seconds later.

“Is roast a real term? Did I used it correctly?”

[Back to scene]

Lucius had also joined the others in the drawing room. He cheered on Andromeda every time she said something particularly witty to Bellatrix.

“You go, ‘Meda!” he said after she remarked how everyone breathed a little more peacefully after she moved out.

Andromeda looked at him straight in the eye. “I know you’re my brother in law, but we’re not there yet, honey.”

“I hate her,” he said pointing at Bellatrix, “isn’t that enough?”

The three sisters looked at him, eyebrows elegantly raised.

“Whatever you say now will determine your faith, Lucius,” taunted Sirius.

“I’m also married to her,” Lucius continued, this time pointing at Narcissa, “so you should consider yourself lucky she didn’t run off and have a baby with a convicted felon.”

Remus snorted obnoxiously.

(NARCISSA MALFOY) TALKING HEAD

“I couldn’t smoke while I was pregnant with Draco. Hardest nine months of my life,” she says with a grimace, “it was all worth it, though. I’m living the dream. I mean, who doesn’t want to be in charge of a fifteen years old boy who only babbles about one of his classmates?”

She doesn’t look very convinced.

[Back to scene]

Sirius had joined in the roasting now. Bellatrix had mentioned something about her not being invited to his wedding with Remus. He, in turn, spilling the family tea all over the living room’s floor.

“I never really cared that you were a twi-”

“Tais toi!” screeched Narcissa, not wanting her sister to literally taunt their cousin once again for his sexual orientation. Bella knew exactly who else in the family she was mocking and Narcissa was having absolutely none of that.

DISSOLVE TO: the whole family sitting like scolded kids. Narcissa furiously pacing in front of them.

“This ends here!” she announced, “I’m tired of the Blacks being the absolute worst family in the history of families.”

“What is she saying?” Remus whispered to Sirius while Narcissa kept rambling.

“Shhh,” Sirius mumbled back, “I can barely understand. Somehow her accent keeps getting thicker and thicker.”

“Sirius,” she said. Her cousin perked up at the mention of his name. “When was the last time you saw Nymphadora?”

“Uhh, yesterday?”

“What?!” she exclaimed, “so you see each other regularly?”

“We go to work together.”

“You work?” she asked, even more surprised than before.

“I own a bar,” he shrugged, not surprised that his cousin didn’t know of his whereabouts.

“Of course you do,” interjected Bellatrix, “and what does dearest Nymphadora do?”

“She’s an auror,” Andromeda answered, not allowing any biting remark to come from her sister’s malicious lips.

Narcissa looked at Andromeda curiously. She tried her best to be close with both her sisters and yet somehow she didn’t know know Nymphadora was an auror. In her mind, for some reason, her metamorphmagus niece was still in Hogwarts.

“She sees Lucius at the Ministry all the time. Just last week she told me they chatted on the elevator,” said Sirius.

Narcissa shot his husband an accusing look.

“I’ve seen her a couple of times, but I never thought she worked there. I just assumed she roamed the building for...reasons.”

Andy facepalmed as Bella cackled.

“Alright, well those days are over.”

“What days?” asked Remus, afraid to know the answer.

“The days of us not knowing what each other are up to. Auntie Walburga died three years ago,” she said. Andromeda patted Sirius’ back when he frowned at the mention of his satirical mother. “She was the last one of our parents’ generation. It is our chance to start anew, to accept each other. So, it’s decided. We’re having dinner tonight.”

The rest of the family joined in a collective whine, but accepted. Everyone knew better than to mess with Narcissa once she was set on something.

A few hours later, the elves placed all sorts of delicacies at the table. Draco was granted permission to apparate from the school back home, arriving as the rest of the family took their sits. He frowned as he sat by his aunt Bella’s side, who only talked about how he looked like his good for nothing father. He sent a pitiful look at his cousin Nymphadora, who smiled amusedly at him as she tried to start a conversation with Regulus. Sirius and Ted were already talking like old friends and Remus and Lucius shared a laugh at Professor Snape’s expense. Andromeda looked satisfied. Narcissa, at the head of the table, eyed her family proudly.

“Levitate the potatoes my way, please Nymphadora?” said Draco. He wasn’t particularly close with his cousin, but he knew she hated the name.

“Don’t. Call. Me. Nymphadora!” she said as she pushed the potatoes a bit too harshly towards him. Her changed from purple to a shade of red.

“I like you already,” said Bella.

“That’s a very bad sign,” muttered Remus.

(LUCIUS MALFOY) TALKING HEAD.

(Lucius sits on the same elegant armchair as before. He has his legs crossed and the attitude of a dandy).

“Life is full of changes. Some big, some small. I learned a long time ago you can fight it or try to make the best of it. And that's all a lot easier if you've got people who love you to help you face whatever life throws at you,” he says, an affectionate smile on his face.

He then frowns worriedly. “I just hope my house doesn’t become the designated place of gathering. My peacocks couldn’t take it.”

Roll Credits

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alexlabhont · 4 years

Text

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter Six

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing: Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Ehm... 13 years < , I mean, is not that hard, but just to be sure.

Warnings: This chapter contains transphobia and the writer’s own version of dysphoria. This doesn't mean every trans person feels the same, but it is a possibility I wanted to share. Thank you.

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

CHAPTERS

The beginning

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

ONE-SHOTS

Just a dance (Zoey x MC)

——————————————————————

Beck arrived home around two in the morning or so. They walked all the way to Belvoire, not caring about the cold, the dangers of the night, the strange people treating to appear… it didn’t matter, because they didn’t even notice it.

Poppy didn’t try to reach out either, she didn’t even go after them and Beck was thankful for it. Maybe they owe her an explanation, but right now, the only thing Beck wanted was to be left alone. The feelings inside their heart and brain were so many and with so different meanings that it felt like a whole honeycomb full of buzzing, noisy and altered bees without any rest.

They wanted Poppy...

But they didn’t deserve her…

But why…?

They were a human; they could be with her…

But sometimes, being human was not enough…

What kind of human was Beck...?

Beck was different from anyone.

They don't really belong.

They never did.

Therefore, they couldn’t have anything that was for people that did belong.

Otherwise, they'd be cheating the others…

So they didn’t deserve it.

And that’s the path they chose. A double-edged weapon. Being what they were it was complicated. The worse part isn’t being treated differently by people and, sure, that is awful sometimes. The worse part is the confusing shit one would tell to themselves sometimes.

There would be days when one is happy, completely sure, confident, ready to take upon the world. One felt invincible, one felt good-looking, one felt that every little thing and time invested into being happy was worth it, was the cure, was the thing they absolutely needed it.

Because it is.

But sometimes, one realized it came with a price. With mental confusion, with hollowness inside just because of something so banal to others that’s so precious to one. Sometimes, the dysphoria would knock at one's door to remind one that one is a Mr. Roboto. A Mr. Roboto who doesn’t deserve human things.

Beck didn’t even process when they arrived home, nor when they lay down on the couch, the gaze completely lost into the ceiling. Were they even blinking?

“Beck?... Is that you?” They heard Zoey coming towards them. But they didn’t care. At least not right now. They needed a time off.

But of course, Zoey didn’t read minds, so she kept walking, pajamas on, her curly hair falling effortlessly over her shoulders, a worry look impressed in the chocolate of her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” No response. Their mind was already back at the Club, feeling Poppy's lips moving perfectly along theirs. “Beck?... Are you alright?”

“No. I really want her, Zo… I want Poppy so badly…”

“Just tired.” They lied. How can one explain something like this to a human like her? Inside them all was clear, but it was a completely different world to her. Of course, Zoey didn’t buy it for a second. But she knew them, and she wouldn’t push it.

“Come to bed?” she asked, holding a blanket over her shoulders. Beck saw it, and it was just until that moment, a part of their brain felt connected to reality. Outside was freezing, and Beck’s body was cold, trembling for who knows how long.

“Y-yeah… I’m coming.” They managed to stand up, following Zoey through the living room, reaching shortly the door of their own bedroom.

“Beck?”

“Yes?”

“You do know you can tell me anything, right?” Beck stood still a while, asking for more information, an explanation. Why was she asking that? “I know something happened there, and I won’t ask you to tell me. I just wanted to let you know I have your back. Always”

And there it was. The reason why Zoey was the only person Beck trusted. But right at that moment, they couldn’t tell her exactly what was going on inside their heart. She almost begged them not to go to the club with Poppy, she believed that the strawberry blonde was onto something bad, and they couldn’t blame her. After all, Beck would thought exactly the same if it where any other person but them.

“I know, Zo… Thank you.” They said before walking into their room to throw themselves on their bed. Beck just wanted to sleep, to end that day. But it was impossible.

Her lips, her taste… her smell… her touch… everything. Poppy was completely inside their mind now, because that kiss felt heavenly good. It was like a real connection, like if Poppy really wanted them. But Beck was afraid.

Someone as beautiful as Poppy could have anyone she wanted, why would she be interested in them?

Why would she actually stayed with Beck?

Maybe it was just the moment, the song, the mood. Maybe it was just a one-time thing, a meaningless kiss she suddenly wanted to have. But even if it wasn’t, surely she soon would see that being with Beck was actually different from what she was expecting. Poppy would most likely get bored and leave them as soon as possible.

Maybe people back at Farmsville were right, maybe no real girl would ever be satisfied with them…

“Shut the fuck up, Beck.” They murmured to themselves. “You’re just being paranoid…”

Yes, that was true.

But, in order to avoid the pain, they needed to draw the line.

The far they stayed from Poppy Min-Sinclair, the better

~~X~~

“Thanks for walking me class, babe.” Zoey said with a friendly smile, stopping aside from her classroom door. “Are you sure you don’t want to join me? You love this class.”

“Completely.” They responded. “I have to finish my project for Professor Myra and I haven’t even started it yet because someone won’t let me a second to rest.” Zoey laughed playfully before pretending to be insulted.

“Oh, so now is my fault?” she asked, and Beck couldn’t help but give her a grin.

The last couple of days, Zoey and Beck had been doing basically everything together, even more than before. Zoey was continuously insisting them to join her in her classes when Beck had free time but not Zoey, to have lunch outside campus, she even managed to get tickets in first line to one of the first TBD concerts in New York, which was basically huge because Beck was a wholeheartedly fan of theirs, they even had a little crush on Kaitlyn Liao for a while.

Even The T had started to question the true nature of the relationship, which was something understandable, but neither of them was really paying attention to it. After all, why should they give any explanation to anyone?

“Yes! It’s basically your fault, Zoey Wade.” Beck laughed, they weren’t mad at all. Zoey was a very responsible girl putting the school first. Professor Myra's project it was basically an essay about the meaning of music according to Sulzer theory. Easy-peasy. That’s why it was the last one left.

“But… you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it.” She winked at them, flirty as always.

“Go to class, honey” The smile on their faces was huge, happy, trusting. Beck was feeling so lucky to have Zoey next to them. She was the best friend and artist they could’ve asked for.

“See ya later, then.”

“See ya.”

The corridors of Belvoir were huge, elegant, eccentrically decorated. While walking through them, Beck started wondering what was the original purpose of the building. It was always meant to be a school or somebody bought the property to actually live there? Beck looked around a little more, trying to find a detail who could give them a clue, but instead, the thing that caught up their interest, was a little, purple ad.

“Rock’s style band is searching for a lead singer…”

Beck stopped a little, rather curious. Reading the ad, Beck discovered a lot of basic information: they played alternative, rock pop, rock metal, among others, and needed a lead singer before the Battle of the Bands. They weren’t aware there was one of those things there in Belvoire.

Beck took the paper in their hand, interested in what they had to offer, and maybe ask for details later. But suddenly, the sound of high heels walking angry towards them caught their attention.

There, at the end of the hall, was the very Poppy Min-Sinclair. And she definitely saw Beck. They gulped, but stood still. They weren’t a full coward, if something was about to happen, let it be at once.

“Hey, tranny!” They heard someone yelling from behind. Confused and angry, Beck turned around, ready to deal with whoever was calling them like that with such a despicable tone, but what they got was not a conversation, but a fist right to their mouth.

The hit was so hard, it managed to make them wobble a little, only to be pinned aggressively against the wall by the collar of their sweater.

“I tolerate you being your disgusting self. But don’t ever dare to drag my woman into your shit.” A guy, a random guy was looking at them with repulse, with actually hatred. But Beck was used to it… They weren’t that impressed, so they chuckled.

“Funny, I don’t recall a complain from your mom.” It was fine, as long as he didn’t hit them in the… Ow, the bad rib… Ok, that did hurt.

“Stay away from Poppy.” The random guy mumbled, making Beck see red from one second to another. “She’s mine.”

Who the fuck did he think he was?

Gathering strength, Beck managed to break the hold and land a punch right in the nose of the other one. Making him back down, blood falling from his face. The rage he now had made him let out a roar before lash out like a bull against Beck's torso, both of them falling to the floor. Again and again, his fist crashed on Beck’s face, but Beck turned things around, hitting the guy as hard as they could, until…

“What the fuck is WRONG WITH YOU?!” Beck felt a delicate yet strong hand reaching out for their shoulder, breaking the fight apart. Poppy was there, holding them tightly in a hug, looking at the guy on the floor completely infuriated.

“Poppy… I can explain… I saw The T's photo and I...” that guy said, looking distressed.

“I don’t fucking care, Burnett!” she roared. “you little piece of shit! I will personally make sure you end up getting dragged to the deepest, darkest, nauseating place this world has to offer to animals like you!”

Surprisingly, Beck felt bad for that pathetic guy. They haven’t seen Poppy so angry, so fierce in a very scary-the-shit-out kind of way, ever. Everyone around that were watching, started to go away as faster as they could, trying to avoid any kind of confrontation with her, leaving the three completely alone in a university corridor, which was no little thing. Beck took a deep breath… or at least, they tried, but…

They couldn’t breath deeply…

They couldn’t breath without pain.

“You-you can’t be serious… Are you… are you really dating that?”

“I’m dating whoever the fuck I want! And they have a fucking name! Call Beck a That again and I'll make you life a living hell!”

Beck didn’t even notice her defending them. The sharping pain was too much to talk.

“As for you...” It was Beck’s turn. “How you dare to ditch me like that at the club!”

“Wait…”

“I don’t care what you have to say! You should’ve growth a pair and talk to me long ago instead of just avoiding me!”

“Poppy… wait…” They try once again, wanted so desperately to regain air to their lungs without her yelling them.

“You know? I don’t even know what I saw in you! You’re just the same as many of my…!”

That’s when Beck started to bend, holding the rib as an instinct to protect them, to make it stop hurting, the pain was fully showing itself on their face.

“Oh my God…” Poppy exclaimed, her angry attitude switched quickly to a worry one. Swiftly, Poppy's hands traveled to Beck's shirt, uncovering his body. A big, yellow bruise on their skin was slowly becoming green… purple at some places. “Shit… I’m going to kill you, Carleton!”

Oh, the bad rib…

“What is going on here?”

The sound of a familiar voice showed up, Professor Ina Kingsley walked in, maybe alerted by students or something like it, Beck didn’t really want to dig in.

“This fucking asshole attacked Hughes as a savage meathead!”

“Is Beck ok?” Ina asked right away, being aware about how the pain in Beck was bigger that Carleton's, who got away with some bruises and face cuts. “Think you can walk?”

“I'm fine…” Beck groaned. “… I just… I need to sit down a moment…”

“Miss Min-Sinclair, do you mind taking Beck to the nursing? I handle Mr. Burnett.”

“Come on, Farmsville. Lean on me.”

“No, I can manage…” The look Poppy throw them was so deadly scary, that them were paralyzed for a second. “O-ok…” Beck did as she told them, not wanting to face that kinda mortal gaze ever again.

But as the both started walking away, Beck turned to look at the guy who was now being taken to the Principal office.

And the deep hatred drawn in him was enough to know it: That guy wouldn’t stop there.

“Sweet… this all over again.” Beck thought, feeling actually insecure for the first time in all the time they had there.

“Poppy… I don’t want to go to the nursing.” They said, desperately needing to feel secure.

“Are you dumb? Of course I’m taking you to the nursing! Did you see that bruise?”

“Poppy.” Beck stopped immediately, looking supplicant into those honey eyes. Scared. “Please… I'll go anywhere but there…”

The strawberry blonde thought about it carefully; a battle was taking place in her mind, while she was reading the message written on Beck’s eyes.

Her rigid posture suddenly softened, as if she couldn’t deny anything to them… Maybe Beck wasn’t the only one with a soft spot for the other.

“Fine. Let’s go to my room.”

----

#poppy x mc #queen b choices #choices #trans #ftm #malemc #poppy min sinclair #bea hughes #Beck Hughes #choices stories you play #choices poppy #choices queen b #choices queen b mc #mc x poppy #queen b

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maria-scribbles · 4 years

Text

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part five

summary: in the aftermath of hurricane agatha, the pogues are thrown into a mess none of them are ready to deal with. things that don’t exactly top sailor’s ‘fun things to do this summer’ list: surfing in the middle of a hurricane, getting punched in the face by a stupid kook, and stumbling upon a mystery that turns her and her friends into the damn scooby gang. when she said she wanted an exciting summer, she should’ve been more specific. 🙃

word count: 8.1k+ (it just keeps getting longer and longer 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings n stuff: mentions of abuse/neglect/gambling addiction, child abandonment, anxiety, self-worth issues, jj being both soft af and hot for his best friend, weed usage, underage drinking, unresolved sexual tension, sailor being thirsty, swearing, guns, fighting, blood, that one trope where two characters only call each other by their nicknames/last names until they don’t because of ~reasons~ that makes me lose my shit every time (like a lot of the obx fandom, i also headcanon that jj stands for jesse james), references to the three stooges (jj=moe, pope=larry, and john b=curly and that’s a fact lmao), to all the boys i've loved before, avengers infinity war, and david attenborough, and a line heavily inspired/influenced by taylor swift's "dress" (a song that happens to be on the playlist for this series)

a/n: we’re finally entering canon territory, y’all (with a few tweaks, of course!) but i’m determined not to make this a rehash/retelling word for word of the show ‘cause that’s just no fun, so expect smaller pieces (vignettes, i guess?) of storytelling as i expand on canon with sailor and the rest of the pogues. think of it like a mixtape of sorts, but with words instead of music if that makes sense lol. this part originally covered episodes one and two but i wrote so much that i had to split it, so we're just covering most of episode one for now (i still can't even believe how much shit actually goes down in the pilot lol). i was veryyyy excited to write the kegger at the boneyard 'cause some ~juicy~ stuff happens there lol. fun fact: the title of this part is a term used by surfers to refer to getting up at the ass crack of dawn to hit the waves. as always, this is unbetaed so any mistakes are mine. enjoy!

gif credit to @jj-maybnks

~Masterlist~

part five: dawn patrol

The next morning, Hurricane Agatha hits the island with all the force of a knockout punch; the sound of rain pounding against the roof echoes impossibly loud throughout the Chateau but Sailor’s bewildered shriek is even louder.

“You’re gonna what the what?!”

John B shrugs as the stunned redhead, lounging on the couch, looks away from watching the storm and fixes him with a wide-eyed stare.

“I’m gonna surf the surge.”

“Hell yeah, bro!” JJ yells from his spot as her footrest, punching his fist in the air and she sends him an exasperated look, both at his enthusiastic encouragement of John B’s downright moronic idea and the fact that she already misses the feeling of his thumb drawing circles on her bare ankle.

“Are you two insane?”

“Possibly.” John B states, grinning when JJ follows that up with, “Absolutely.” The blond boy pushes Sailor’s legs off his lap as he stands which earns him another displeased scowl from the redhead. “Come on, Sail. Live a little.”

“Oh, I’ll live alright, but you idiots won’t,” She takes his offered hand, letting him pull her to her feet and then down the hall after John B as she continues, “because this is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had.”

“See, this is why we keep you around,” He replies, laughing when she dodges his attempt to ruffle her hair and dashes forward to beat him to the spare room. “We do something stupid, you and Kie read us the riot act. It’s tradition.”

Sailor grabs her long-sleeved rash vest -if she’s going to sit on the beach to keep an eye on these fools in the middle of a damn hurricane, at least she’ll wear something that offers a little bit of warmth- and heads to the bathroom to change. “Yeah, and then I’m there to patch you up when you inevitably hurt yourselves.”

“Can’t help that you have that healing touch.” His cheeky response floats through the closed door and she catches herself smiling -wide and just a little bit sappy- in the mirror.

After a quick detour to pick up Pope, who’s already drenched from sneaking out his window, the pogues (sans Kiara who never answered John B’s text in the group chat and, knowing her parents, was probably on hurricane lockdown) head to the beach, where the rugged gray surf hammers against the shore with unrelenting brutality. Sailor trails behind the others as they grab their boards and make a break for the water, blatantly ignoring the barriers that read ‘beach closed’ in large, impossible to miss letters. A few hundred feet down the coast, she can barely make out The Sandbar all boarded up for the storm and she thinks of her mother, wondering if she's riding it out inside or at home; either way Carmen's all alone and Sailor's stomach twists with guilt, both for letting her phone battery die so she didn't have to answer her calls and for leaving in the first place, even though it was the right thing to do for her damn sanity.

“These signs are here for a reason, guys!” She calls over the howling wind, squinting through the rain at the rough waves with her hands tapping uneasily against her thighs. Watching John B run into the ocean with reckless abandon (Pope following with a little more caution, thankfully) immediately puts her anxiety on edge so she sits down heavily on the wet sand, wrapping her arms around the knees pulled to her chest and looks up at the blond boy who stayed behind. “Aren’t you gonna join the other stooges?”

JJ shrugs at her question, glancing out toward their friends before dropping his board to the ground and taking a seat behind the trembling girl, his chest to her back. “This one can’t just leave you hanging out here all alone, lookin’ all sad and shit. It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special, J.” She smirks and scoots back in the sand, lips curling into a full-fledged smile when he lifts his arms to drape them over her shoulders. As he tucks her securely against his front, the warmth of his body helps ward off the biting chill of the rain, and so does the fact that he knows her so well, that he knows this is exactly what she needs to help calm the panicking butterflies in her stomach.

He leans close, lips brushing against the shell of her ear when he whispers his next words like a secret, low and just for her even when there’s no one around to hear them. “Trust me, Sail, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

She suddenly finds those butterflies in her stomach fluttering for a whole different reason.

The Chateau sits in complete darkness, the power having been knocked out since they returned from dropping Pope off at his house that afternoon. Sailor thinks it’s about ten at night as she lies on her back on the mattress of the sleeper sofa, listening to the wind rip through the trees outside with Binx curled up at her feet. The spare room was way too hot without a working fan, even after she braided her hair off to the side and changed into a crop top and shorts, so she and JJ had returned to the living room where it was cooler, if only by a little bit.

John B has already retreated to his room for the night; he’d been acting quieter than usual since their little adventure at the beach but between a lantern-lit dinner of semi-stale cereal and passing a joint around, she never got the chance to ask if he was okay before he made his escape. JJ lies beside her with his limbs all askew and from the slow rise and fall of his bare chest she’s 99% sure he’s out like a light until, out of the blue, he mutters into the stagnant air, “Can’t keep your eyes off me, huh?”

She blinks heavily -that weed must’ve hit her harder than she thought because she hadn’t even realized she’d been staring- when he lazily turns his head to stare back, a halcyon grin on his face and in the dark, his pupils are blown so wide she can barely see the blue of his irises. Her hand itches with a longing to sweep that one stubborn strand of hair away from his forehead but instead she blindly slides it to the left until she finds his and holds on tight; his fingers automatically lace with hers even as the space between his eyebrows furrows and the smile falls from his lips.

“Sail?”

“I don’t think my dad’s ever coming back.” The redhead’s mouth blurts before her brain can catch up, heavy words lingering like a storm cloud ready to downpour. The thought had been weighing on her heart for a while now, from when she’d first suspected it two months ago, and it feels bittersweet to finally admit it out loud, even when she hadn’t planned doing it.

Her bedmate is silent for a long time as he looks at her through the shadows and she focuses on the touch of his palm against hers instead of the awful mounting pressure behind her eyes -hadn’t she promised herself she was done crying over her dad?- until he asks quietly, “Why? I mean, good riddance 'cause he's kind of the worst, but why?"

“A feeling,” She murmurs around the sudden lump in her throat, biting the inside of her lip hard enough that she tastes the metallic tang of blood on her tongue. “He...he usually comes back after a month or two but this time it’s been almost five.” A bitter laugh escapes from her chest and she shakes her head. “I guess he finally decided he’s done dealing with my worthless ass.”

JJ’s eyes flash like lightning as he rolls over to face her, the hand not entwined with hers reaching up to cup her cheek. “Sail, shut up. Don’t you dare say that.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s true,” She says sharply, words acerbic and biting and full of a self-hatred that’s been poisoning her heart ever since she was old enough -eight and far, far too young- to discern the way her dad’s love for her was fickle at best, non-existent at worst. “I could’ve been a better daughter- a perfect daughter- and he might still be here and my mom wouldn't hate me. I should’ve tried harder-”

“Jesus Christ, Sailor!” He interrupts, calloused yet gentle thumb wiping away the tears she just now registers sliding down her cheeks and the shock of hearing her full name come from his mouth makes the rest of her vitriolic thoughts fly out the window. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

The image of him blurs through the darkness in shades of black and she closes her eyes, jaw clenched in an attempt to quell the tremble of her lip as he goes on in his low, soft voice, “You should’ve tried harder to do what, huh? What could you have possibly done better?”

She’s quiet for a long time, so long that her tears run dry and all that remains is smeared salt on her skin because she doesn’t have an answer. What could she have done? That terrible thought in her mind rears it’s ugly head again, the one that tells her she’s not good enough, that everything’s her fault because she doesn’t do enough, but when she asks it what more she can do, there’s no reply. There never is.

“Hey, look at me.” She hears the rustling of sheets and feels his fingers slip from hers before they come to rest on her cheek, both hands now cradling her face; she opens her eyes to find him hovering over her and the sheer lack of distance between them makes her heart skip a beat. “You...”

“What about me?” Her voice cracks as she speaks and in a mirror of her from earlier, JJ shakes his head, causing that stubborn strand of hair to once again fall into his eyes.

“I wish you’d see yourself the way I do.”

Her breath catches in her throat. “And how do you see me?”

“Fucking amazing.” He says simply and in the dark, she can barely see the flush slowly starting to creep up his neck. “Smart, brave, and loyal as hell. A beautiful badass who doesn’t take shit from anybody. A girl who listens when someone needs to be heard.”

The redhead stares up at him with wide green eyes as he goes on and on, listing all these wonderful little things that her traitorous mind has a hard time processing, let alone believing; he really thinks about her like this? “You care so damn much,” “You’re kind but not afraid speak out,” “You’re the one I trust the most.”

Her hand slowly releases its tight grip on the sheets and slides up his bare arm, feeling the heat of his skin under her palm as she touches his face, not trusting herself to speak because she’s so afraid of saying something dumb or stupid and ruining everything ('like I always do,' her mind echoes).

“You’re my best friend, Sailor, and yeah, you’re not perfect. You drink and you smoke weed and you don’t get straight As in school but fuck, you’re real and so not worthless.” He says each word with such conviction that its impossible not to believe him, as much as her brain screams at her not to. “And I want you to know that what your parents think of you doesn't matter at all, got it?"

Without warning, she flings her arms around his neck and JJ loses his balance, falling onto her with a soft oof of surprise but Sailor doesn’t even feel the extra weight as she rests her face against his shoulder and finally finds her voice. “Thank you.”

He takes her with him when he rolls onto his side, arms wrapped tight around her waist and nose buried in her messy braid. “Just...trying to do the right thing, I guess. For once.”

She pulls back at his words, then leans forward and slowly presses her lips to his flushed cheek, just missing the corner of his mouth. She lets them linger for a beat longer than necessary before leaning back -not too far, just enough- and looking him in the eye. “Thank you, Jesse.”

He usually hates being called by his first name (she found that out pretty quickly into their friendship, “never call me Jesse” being one of the first things he ever said to her) but he just looks at her with a soft, endearing smile on his face as he leans back onto the bed, once again bringing her with him. “Promise me something, Sail?”

She glances up at him from his shoulder and meets his eyes. “Yeah?”

His fingers tuck an escaped red curl behind her ear. “Just...be you. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks.”

She wishes it were that easy, that she could just step inside her mind and flip a switch and she could stop all those thoughts that’ve plagued her for years but it’s not. It’s gonna take time -time and a lot of patience and maybe even a miracle- but damn it, she’s gonna give it her all, not just for herself but for him and the rest of the pogues, too, the best friends she's ever had, so she nods and settles back down at his side. “I’ll try my best, J.”

“I know you will.”

"Sail, you're the best swimmer out of all of us. Think you can dive down there and check it out?"

The redhead peers over the edge of the HMS Pogue and into the water, where the murky shape of the sunken Grady-White sits thirty feet down on the bottom of the marsh, then nods at the rest of the pogues, an excited grin on her face.

"No problem," She answers John B, hopping up onto the very tip of the boat's bow with practiced ease before diving headfirst into the water to JJ's yell of "diver down!" It's dirtier than usual because of the hurricane but she doesn't let that stop her as she swims down and down until she reaches the top of the boat and pulls herself the rest of the way onto the deck, carefully scanning the area for...fuck. Honestly, she's got absolutely no clue what she's looking for but she assumes she'll know when she sees it.

'It' turns out to be a motel key, resting all alone on the floor by the steering wheel and she quickly reaches out to snatch it, sliding the silver key ring around her finger securely. When she pushes off toward the surface, she leaves the ghostly Grady-White behind with more questions than answers.

The rest of her friends are lined up in a row along the boat's railing, all staring at her with near identical expressions of anticipation as she breaks through the water and holds the key aloft with a triumphant smile.

"The Summer Winds Motel called, they want their key back!"

A little later that evening, Sailor would really regret finding that damn key but right now, she's having a great time dancing at the Boneyard with Kiara at the traditional post-hurricane kegger, second refill of beer in hand, spiked with Fireball from the flask tucked in her back pocket. To her, dancing's a lot like surfing -steady feet, swiveling hips, snapping shoulders- and she thinks that might be the reason she's so bad at it, anticipating the fluidity of water instead of the solidness of dry land. Or it could be that she just doesn't have rhythm when she's a little buzzed. That works, too.

"Ow, Sail!" Kiara winces as the redhead steps on her foot again, rolling her eyes fondly when she throws her head back with a loud, tipsy giggle.

"My bad, Kie!" She twirls in the sand, hair dancing around her shoulders like fire, and finds herself spinning right into a herd of dancing tourons, all too drunk to care that she's spilling her beer all over their feet. Large, olive-skinned hands grab her waist to spin her again and she laughs, smiling over her shoulder at a cute dark-haired touron as he slides one palm over to settle against the bare skin of her lower back. She pushes one hand on his shoulder with just enough resistance that he doesn't get too close into her personal space as he leans in to speak in a low Southern drawl, brown eyes turned a pretty bronze in the glow of the nearby bonfire.

"This probably isn't the best thing to say to a beautiful girl but you kind of dance like a giraffe."

Sailor bursts out laughing at that. "Hey, I think giraffes are very elegant creatures so I'll take that as a compliment!"

The boy grins and she smiles, too, letting him take her free hand and pull her into the throng of dancing bodies. He's almost as bad a dancer as she is but he's fun to talk to and together they gleefully show off their worst moves until their feet hurt -she's lost count of how many times she stepped on his toes- and her solo cup is empty. "Come on," She says and this time, she's the one to grab his hand and lead him over to the closest keg, where John B's dishing out beer with an expert flourish.

"'Sup, Sail," He lifts his chin in greeting as he fills her cup, smirking when she immediately pulls out her flask and adds a long pour of Fireball on top. "Who's your friend?"

"JB, this is Adam, he's visiting from Tennessee. Adam, meet John B, one of my best friends and a total moron," She makes quick introductions, smiling into her drink as he scowls and playfully sprays some beer at her feet before filling another cup and holding it out to the other boy with a jab at her expense.

"Be careful around her, man. She's a handful."

The touron accepts the drink with a shrug and a quick wink in her direction. "Good thing I happen to like 'em a little crazy."

Ugh. More than a little miffed at that, she rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of beer to hide her annoyance when Adam laughs and slings his arm around her shoulders. Calling her a giraffe was actually kind of cute in a very weird, endearing way but he instantly lost whatever points he had with her the second that 'c' word came out of his pretty mouth. She glances around the Boneyard while the boys start talking about surfing (she scoffs to herself, what does a farm kid from Tennessee know about that?), scanning the crowd for the rest of her friends and a chance to ditch him. Kiara's sitting on a big piece of driftwood, chatting up a stunning, deeply tan girl with glossy black hair -she waves when their eyes meet and shoots Sailor a cheeky grin before returning to her conversation- while the ever awkward Pope seems to be stuck in the middle of one of his rambles about autopsies as he stands around the fire, the willowy blonde beside him looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. She'd deliberately lost track of JJ a while ago, after she watched him getting a little too close to a tiny brunette, his hand low on her back as she passed him a drink and ran her fingers up his bare arm, coaxing that killer smile of his onto his face (that girl may have gotten his smile but Sailor got his eyes and they watched her until she pointedly turned away).

Honestly, she's a bit -okay, a lot- peeved. Here she is, thinking that they're the closest they've ever been before (they've always been close, ever since that day in sixth grade, but this is a whole different kind of close), and just when she feels like she may finally be ready to admit some things, some feelings, he's off doing who knows what with another girl; to be fair, she's off with another guy that she'd, until a minute ago, fully planned on kissing, but that's only because of him! Him and some weird need she has to keep him looking at her, to make him jealous -she shakes her head and takes another swig of her whiskey-spiked beer. Nope, nope, not gonna think about that.

Poor Pope looks like he's really struggling so Sailor pushes all thoughts of her blond best friend from her mind and goes to rescue him, ducking out from under Adam's sweaty arm and walking away without a backwards glance, ignoring the confusion in his voice as he calls her name. She pushes through the crowd to her friend and steps right in front of the girl he's trying to talk to, grabbing his hand with her free one.

"Come dance with me?"

The smile of pure relief that breaks out over his face makes her own widen as he lets her pull him back through the mass of bodies to a less-crowded part of the make-shift dance floor, the tension bleeding out of his hunched shoulders with every step.

"You're an angel, Sailor."

She laughs and wraps her arm around his shoulders, leading him in a carefree twirl across the cool sand. "Tell me something I don't know."

Like a leaf caught up in a whirlwind, he's helpless to resist her infectious joy as they dance, grinning like fools and poking fun at each other; for a while, the redhead tries to forget about stupid, clueless boys and focuses on Pope who, while still a clueless boy, doesn't expect anything from her but pure, unconditional friendship that she's all too willing to give (although she did have a teensy little crush on him when they first became friends, she got over it pretty fast the second he started talking about the bodily functions of dead bodies in explicit detail). She shares her drink with him, giggling at the way his face morphs from curiosity to disgust to delight at the taste of her cinnamon beer concoction and lets him down the rest while she drinks straight from the flask that she pulls from her back pocket.

"You've got a shadow." Pope says, slightly nodding his chin over her shoulder and she takes his hand again, slowly spinning herself under his arm to take a quick glance, rolling her eyes when she spots Adam staring at her from the edge of the crowd. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately. Thought he was cute, then he called me crazy." She tucks the whiskey away with a shrug at her friend's sympathetic wince, then steps closer to him and raises a conspiratorial eyebrow. "Wanna help me tell him to take a long walk off a short cliff?"

"Uh-"

"I think I can help with that," A familiar voice cuts off Pope's reply as JJ suddenly appears at her side, slipping his hand into her back pocket to spin her right into the circle of his arms before he plucks the flask from the other and takes a big sip in one smooth kinda sexy move. "Straight Fireball? Damn, Sail."

The redhead carefully schools her features into a blank mask but her body has other ideas, one hand instantly settling on his chest like it's second nature and her face flushing from more than just the alcohol as she casually replies, "You know I like things a little spicy." Completely aware of the way he's watching her every move, she snatches the whiskey back and downs the little bit that's left, trying and failing to ignore the thrill that shoots through her at those bright blue eyes of his darkening when her tongue darts out to lick her lips. Pope rolls his eyes at them both before muttering a quick 'see ya' and hastily melting back into the crowd.

"So, who're we telling to fuck off?" His voice is just a little strained and she feels her cool facade start to crack as she scowls, subtly tilts her head toward where Adam's still staring at her with an expression that looks like he ate a sour lemon. JJ spins her around to take a very conspicuous peek and her mouth curls into a grin, mask breaking completely when he shoots the touron a glare that screams 'try me, I dare you'; the heat from his hand still in her pocket burns as he leans in until his forehead rests on hers. "Let's give him a show."

Sailor hums and pretends to mull it over even as she coyly snakes her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, the harder panes of his body sliding almost sinfully against her softer curves as they sway together, "I don't know, you looked pretty cozy with that other girl earlier..." Is it kind of petty to bring it up? Yes, yes it is, but she can't resist toying with him like he did to her, just as she can't help the breathless gasp that escapes her lips when his fingers press hard into the toned flesh of her ass through her shorts.

"Why, Flynn, are you jealous?"

"Please, I saw that glare you gave him. If anyone's jealous, it's you, Maybank." She fires back while carding both hands through his hair and the pure gratification she feels at his slight shiver is nothing short of euphoric. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely takes notice of the frown Adam sends their way before he turns and stalks off toward the other side of the beach; honestly, she's so caught up in JJ and everything about him -the slow swing of his hips, the hands burning hot against the strip of her back exposed by her crop top, the darkened look in those ocean eyes- that she'd completely forgotten about the touron she danced with earlier in an effort to forget the boy she's dancing with now. She should've known it wouldn't have worked: Sailor could never forget JJ, no matter how hard she tries. He's like a permanent mark on her, a tattoo inked in gold, a beautiful, wonderous scar that she never wants to fade away.

"Seems like we scared him off so I don't have to worry about that anymore." His flushed face is so close she can feel his breath on her lips as he speaks and her eyes quickly flick down to his mouth on their own accord.

"And what about me?" She asks, twirling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, heart beating fast in anticipation as he smirks wickedly at the way her own face turns cherry red.

"Sail, babe, you don't have to worry about a damn thing."

All one of them has to do is tilt their head and everything will fall into place and she can once again know what it's like to kiss him-

"Let it go, Topper!" A sudden, annoyed shout breaks the two apart before they can close that final distance (Sailor's not sure who would've made the first move and she's both relieved and disappointed they won't get to find out), turning away from each other in tandem toward the gathering mass of bodies chanting 'fight, fight!' at the shoreline.

"JB, he's not worth it!" At the sound of Kiara's voice, they take off running across the sand and shove their way to the front of the crowd just in time to see Topper Thornton in all his frat boy glory get absolutely slammed with a hard punch to the jaw, courtesy of John B. The kook barely hits the ground before he's back on his feet and lunging forward to tackle him into the water, landing a hit of his own square in the eye.

"What the hell happened?" Sailor grabs Kiara's elbow and the dark haired girl looks at her with wide eyes as the boys continue to roll around, exchanging brutal blows while a stunned Pope watches from her other side.

"I don't even know, they just started wailing on each other!"

JJ stands silent to Sailor's right, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists as he stares at the brawl and she reaches over to wrap her fingers around his wrist, thumb calmly running circles on his skin.

"Top, seriously! Stop it!" Sarah Cameron stands in the sand just before the crashing waves, yelling furiously at her boyfriend and throwing her arms in the air when he ignores her. "What is wrong with you?"

The moment Topper lands three punches in a row on John B's battered face, Sailor decides she's seen enough. She rushes forward without thinking to grab the blond boy's arm, pulling as hard as she can in an attempt to get him off her friend and barely has time to register what's happening when the fist he was aiming at John B suddenly swings at her. It connects solidly with her left cheek and makes her stumble back, her hand flying to her throbbing face before she goes down hard onto her butt in the surf.

"What the fuck, Thornton?"

"Did you just punch a girl?"

"Ohhhh shit!"

A cacophony of voices yells from the shore as the kook boy stares down at her, momentarily stunned when he realizes who exactly he hit, and it gives John B an opening to wrestle him back into the water and land a solid punch right to his nose. Everything happens so fast after that that the redhead, still reeling in a wide-eyed daze, has a little trouble keeping up. First, Kiara and Pope splash through the waves to her side, kneeling down to help her to her feet with their arms around her waist. Second, Topper gains the upper hand and straight up tries to drown John B, holding his head under the water while Sarah screams at him to stop. And third, JJ -reckless, bold, protective JJ- pulls out that damn stolen gun, effectively bringing the whole mess to a grinding halt when he stalks forward and presses the barrel to the side of Topper's head.

"Your move, broski." He threatens and the beach is so quiet everyone can hear the click of the safety being switched off. The kook slowly raises his hands in the air and John B emerges from the water, stumbling forward onto his hands and knees with a horrible wet cough.

It's all too much for Sailor's poor tipsy self to take. The world spins beneath her feet as her head starts to pound and her shaking fingers fail to find purchase on Kiara's and Pope's shoulders.

"Guys, I don't feel so good," She manages to whisper and their looks of concern (the former) and panic (the latter) are the last thing she sees before her legs give out and everything goes black.

The first thing she registers is the pain that radiates from the left side of her face, her whole head throbbing with every beat of her heart and the sound of loud whispering right by her ear isn't helping at all.

"That's the best you can do, J? Seriously?"

"The power's out! I can't exactly pull ice out of my ass, Kie."

Something semi-cold gently rests against her cheek and she audibly sighs at the little bit of relief she feels, her hand sluggishly rising to hold it a little closer as she mumbles, "I wouldn't want your ass ice anyway." At least she tries to: her mouth feels like it's full of cotton and she's pretty sure the only thing that comes out is unintelligible gibberish.

Sailor opens her eyes and finds herself lying on her back on the sleeper sofa at the Chateau, a passed out John B to her right. Pope sits on the edge of the mattress by his side, holding a beer bottle to his friend's black eye and he sends her a relieved smile when he notices she's awake.

"There she is," JJ says from her other side and she turns to face him, not at all surprised to find him already looking at her, and the unabashed concern in his eyes sends a golden warmth through her whole body. Her fingers slip down the hand that's still holding the bottle to her cheek so she can run her thumb over the delicate bones in his wrist in a silent thank you.

A different, softer hand rests on her knee and she tears her gaze away from his face to smile at Kiara as she says, "Good to see you're okay, Sail."

The redhead sinks back into the pillow in embarrassment and covers her eyes with her free hand. God, she really passed out, didn't she? She passed out after taking one lousy punch to the face by a fucking kook, no less. How completely mortifying. She swallows thickly and sounds like a chain smoker when she says, "I'm so sorry, guys. I'm a total idiot."

The other three conscious pogues start protesting all at once -apparently there's many, many, different ways to say she's not an idiot- and the resulting volume of their combined voices is enough to make her headache even worse. She sits up and scoots back until she's propped against the couch and sets the now warm beer on the side table before massaging both of her temples.

"Will you please shut up, I can feel my brain beating in my skull."

For a second, there's wonderful, blissful silence and then:

"Holy shit, thank you," A groggy voice says to her right and she turns to watch a bleary-eyed John B claw his way back to consciousness. "You guys are fucking loud."

"He lives!" JJ shouts, ignoring the four glares sent his way and reaching over to clap his hand against the brunet boy's shoulder. "Welcome back, dude."

"Ugh," He suddenly rolls onto his stomach -Pope deftly catching the bottle when it nearly falls from the bed- and his muffled voice floats out from the pillow he shoves his head under like an ostrich in the sand. "Knock me back out."

"Aww, poor baby." Sailor gives his back a sympathetic pat and chuckles softly when he blindly feels around for her arm, pushing it away with another deep groan and a 'fuck off, Sail' that lacks any type of venom.

"Okay, now that you're both kind of conscious, let's agree that neither of you will ever fucking do that again. Got it?" Kiara addresses John B and Sailor as she stands from the bed and crosses her arms, fixing the latter with a piercing look that makes her feel like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar; she opens her mouth to defend herself but before she can say anything, Kiara turns her furious gaze to JJ and points an accusing finger at his face. "And you! What the hell were you thinking pulling that damn gun out, huh?"

"Jesus Christ, Kie!" He suddenly rockets to his feet and throws his hands in the air. "Sail got socked in the face and JB was getting fucking drowned, I wasn't really thinking much at all!”

The dark haired girl can't seemed to think of a response to that and looks away, staring at the floor with her jaw clenched as Pope, ever the mediator, rises to his feet, too, and rounds the bed to step between them placatingly.

"Let's just drop it for tonight, okay? They need to rest." He says, nodding toward the two still on the bed before wrapping his hand around Kiara's elbow and turning her toward the front door. She immediately pulls her arm from his grasp but still nods in agreement, the hard look in her eyes softening when she glances at her injured friends.

"Yeah, okay." She says and glances down at her watch, wincing when she catches sight of the time. "My parents'll kill me if I'm not home soon, anyway."

"Come on, I'll take you guys home." JJ says with a conciliatory look in her direction as Pope tosses him the Volkswagen's keys from his pocket and when she nods back, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, Sailor knows that all is forgiven, at least for now.

"Are you sure you're good to drive?" She asks and immediately rolls her eyes at his sarcastic reply of "Yes, Mom," and the obnoxious wink he shoots her.

The trio leaves after a quick round of goodbyes and John B waits until he hears the sound of his van driving away before finally emerging from under the pillow and rolling onto his back.

"Sensing the immediate danger has passed, the ostrich cautiously pulls its head out from the sand..." She says in her best David Attenborough impression, laughing when he tosses the pillow at her head with an amused grin.

"Ha ha. I was trying to avoid getting a Kie lecture," He explains, running both hands down his face with a heavy sigh. "It feels like my head's gonna explode."

"You and me both, dude." She carefully probes at her swollen cheek and is more than a little surprised to feel the beginnings of a scab forming near her eye. She knew Topper landed a solid punch but she didn't realize how solid that hit was until now as she catches sight of the tiny bit of drying blood left behind on her fingertips.

"That looks like it hurts. You okay?" John B asks and she looks up from wiping her hand clean on her shorts, stiff from dried saltwater, with a wrinkle of her freckled nose.

"I'm alright. How about you? No offense but your eye looks like shit."

"I'll live." He answers with a shrug as he pulls himself upright on the mattress and leans his head against the back of the couch. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

He sluggishly turns his head to look Sailor in the eye and shrugs again. "For trying to help me out. Sorry I got you punched."

She smirks and reaches over to give his hand a brief, friendly squeeze as she replies, "It's not your fault I got myself punched. I'm sorry your ass almost drowned."

He snorts at that and she's relieved to hear it, knowing that he can still joke around and he's not, like, completely traumatized or something. Poor guy's already got enough to deal with without adding a mental breakdown to the list. She swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slowly stands before taking a tentative step forward; when her knees hold and she doesn't fall flat on her face, she makes her way to his side and holds both hands out to him with a small, lighthearted smile.

"Yeah, you're delirious. Near death experiences do that to you." She says, helping him to his feet and, after looping his arm over her shoulders and sliding hers around his waist, the two teenagers carefully shuffle down the hall in the dim light of the emergency lantern on the kitchen table to his room, where she unceremoniously dumps him onto his bed. "Sleep it off. And for the love of God, please change. You smell terrible."

She goes to leave as he laughs again, tugging his shirt off and tossing it into the growing pile of clothes near the closet before saying, "Hey, Sailor?"

The redhead pauses with one foot in the hall and leans against the doorframe. "Yeah?"

"You know you're a badass, right?"

She laughs and sends him a wink but her heart is oh so light as she turns and heads to the spare room, calling back over her shoulder, "Nice to see someone acknowledge it. Now go to bed!"

The sound of the Chateau's front door opening and closing startles Sailor awake and she blinks heavily, wondering when exactly she'd fallen asleep. Last thing she remembers she was staring out at the fireflies through the open window as she steadily ran her hand down the length of Binx's back and their ethereal glow, combined with the breeze dancing around her shoulders, must've pulled her right under. Down the hall, she hears a loud thump, followed by JJ cursing as he runs into something and she giggles to herself, rolling onto her side to face the hall. He appears in the darkened doorway a minute later, rubbing his knee with a scowl on his face and she laughs louder at his quiet, venomous hiss of "fuck that fucking chair."

"Rude. It's not the chair's fault you always run into it." She teases and he shoots her a flat, unamused look before turning to glance down the hall toward John B's room, his fingers holding tight to the door frame.

"He's okay, you know. Told him to get some sleep." His head swings to face her when she speaks with soft words and even in the dark, she can see the way his tense shoulders slowly relax and his hand loosens, falling back to his side as he nods, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"And you?" He asks, his eyes never wavering from hers as he kicks his boots off and pulls his shirt over his head; the sight of his messy hair and the muscles in his arms make it a little hard for Sailor to breathe, the gentle wind she once thought of as cool now doing nothing to help calm her flushed skin when she scoots over in bed to give him room to lie down next to her. Binx looks as disgruntled as a cat can look as he loses his comfy spot and jumps down from the bed, only to immediately leap onto the windowsill and stretch out.

"What about me?"

JJ rolls over to face her, reaching one hand up to cup her injured face and runs his calloused thumb under the cut on her cheekbone. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, she shifts closer and lays her head on his outstretched arm, covering his hand with her own and effortlessly fitting her fingers into the spaces between his. "I'm fine. Even better, now."

He leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. "Good, 'cause I don't know what I'd do if you weren't."

When those pesky butterflies come raging back with a vengeance, she realizes she's fighting a battle she hopes to lose.

The sound of a conversation in the kitchen, low voices drifting through the closed door of the guest room wakes Sailor early the next morning. Sunlight filters in through the windows and she squeezes one eye shut against the painful brightness, the other still squished into JJ's shoulder. His arm is a welcome weight slung over her hip and his deep, even breaths are soft against her forehead as he sleeps on, dead to the voices down the hall. With the corner of her mouth turned up in a small smile, she smooths his fine blond hair away from his face and runs her fingers along his jawline before carefully sliding out from under his arm and quietly heading toward the kitchen.

Pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, she rounds the corner and stops short when she catches sight of the person standing by the table, her cheerful 'good morning' getting stuck on her tongue; she was expecting Pope and Kiara, not the goddamn sheriff! Shooting John B a wide-eyed look that makes him shake his head (what the fuck did that even mean?!), the redhead forces a smile and hastily offers her a wave.

"Uh, good morning, Sheriff. Sorry to interrupt, just, uh, grabbing some water."

She just nods in acknowledgement before turning her attention back to the brunet boy and Sailor breathes an inaudible sigh of relief. Holy shit, is that woman scary. She heads to the sink and keeps one ear on the conversation as she quickly fills a glass with water and pops two aspirin, the headache from last night made even worse by the addition of a whiskey hangover.

"I didn't realize you had company, John B. Wild night?" The sheriff asks and Sailor meets her friend's eyes again, her anxiety rising when she sees his thinly veiled panic. Her back to Peterkin, she silently implores him to say something, anything -hell, she even tries to subtly mime surfing with her hands to help him out- but he stays silent, so she gathers her courage, plasters a smile on her face, and twirls to face her.

"Busy day, actually. We went surfing all day after cleaning up the yard." She says, jerking her thumb toward the heap of broken branches piled by the fire pit visible through the living room window; when the sheriff turns to look, she quickly elbows John B in the side, ignoring his huff of surprise as she nods her head in her direction.

"Yeah, surfing! All day." He blurts out, sending Sailor a lukewarm glare when she quickly mouths 'what the fuck was that?' before they both straighten up and spin back to the older woman just as she turns to face them again.

"Right." Peterkin hums and arches one eyebrow as she glances back and forth between the two teenagers. "Now tell me, how'd you both get those bruises? They look pretty painful."

"Oh, this?" Sailor asks, pointing at her cheek with a casual shrug, "I tried to hang ten and bit it pretty hard. My board caught me right in the face."

Peterkin looks at her for a beat longer than normal and the redhead does her best to keep her expression neutral as her palms start to sweat. "Surfing, really? Thought you were pretty experienced in that department."

John B adds, offering some much needed back up, "Even the pros wipe out every once in awhile, you know?" He crosses his arms and leans back against the counter. "My board got me good, too."

"Yeah, it just was not our day," She says with a nervous chuckle, refilling her water and slowly starting to back out of the kitchen, pretending she doesn't see the dismayed look her friend sends her way; her anxiety can't take another second of the sheriff's piercing gaze and she needs to get away fast, lest she start recounting every single second of their activities both legal and not so legal- from yesterday in explicit detail. "And I'm still pretty tired so I'm just gonna go back to bed for a bit. Nice talking to you, Sheriff."

After disappearing around the corner before either of them can reply, she creeps down the hallway, keeping her footfalls as light as she can, and she's so focused on trying to listen in on what Peterkin's saying that she runs smack into JJ, standing in the doorway of the spare room. His arm instantly darts out to wrap around her waist and pull her close, keeping her from falling right on her butt as he says, "There you are-"

"Shhh!" Sailor hisses quietly, covering his mouth with her hand, "The damn sheriff is here!"

He mumbles something into her palm but she she holds a finger to her lips, pushing him back into the room and softly closing the door behind them before pressing her ear against it and dropping her hand from his face. He mirrors her position with a question clear as day in his wide eyes, 'what the fuck?', arm still looped around her lower back.

"She's grilling him about yesterday," She says simply, then turns her attention back to the faint voices floating through the door. The duo listens in silence, trying and failing to discern what's being said until they hear the sound of the sheriff's boots on the front porch and her squad car tires crunching through the gravel as she drives away and they exchange a worried look. JJ had it right: what the fuck, indeed.

"Holy shit, guys," John B's voice suddenly says from the hallway. The door opens before they have time to back away and it sends them sprawling to the floor in a twisted pile of limbs; the brunet boy -who'd usually find something like that hilarious- barely reacts to their position and sends them both a tense frown, his next words dropping like a damn anchor in the marsh.

"We need to go check out that Grady-White again, and fast."

Sailor groans and lets her head fall back onto the floor with a thunk. "Here we go."

let me know what you think! fun fact: ostriches actually do put their heads in the sand, but it's not because they sense danger. female ostriches bury their eggs to keep them safe from predators and they'll occasionally stick their head into the sand to check on them and give 'em a lil turn 😊

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy

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silentlsworld · 3 years

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Chapter 8 Excerpt: TQIY

EXCERPT FROM The Quarantine in the Year now live on AO3 (also, thought this gif was fitting since our duo is dancing this chapter!)

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Disclaimer: Okay so, now I can say I own a single character. Shannon in this one is mine and for as long as she's here in this world, she will be. I think I'm going somewhere with her and I like it. Everybody else, nah, they ain't mine. Also, the song lyrics ain't mine either.

A/N: So, I posted once already for this period/day but you know, I just sat down and magic. In forty minutes, this was born. Please if you don't know Paramore's Riot album, I recommend listening to it. It was my muse tonight. We go a little harder than I thought and definitely not where I thought I'd end up but here we go. Pt. 2 of the rock n roll festivities. Lemme know what you think!

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Brennan stared in awe at her husband. Booth was playing an air guitar and banging his head around to the beat lip-syncing. While it was totally out of her comfort zone, she couldn’t help but feel connected. An enigma she was certain of it. But as it was many times before, being with Booth did that. Since the beginning. Arguing with him then set her on fire in ways she couldn’t begin to describe. If she were totally honest with herself, she would admit that it had scared her. Never before had she met someone who could irritate her to her last cell but still manage to pull her in oh so close to the point of letting down her walls.

Like her husband, it made no sense, but she was in for the long run. She shook her head. A couple years ago she was certain that she would never be able to give him the 30, 40 or 50 years he wanted. But now, almost seven years later, she was happily married to the same man who had not once given up on them. Yes, it may have seemed so at one point, but Booth had told her that even then, his attempt at moving on was futile a mistake. Temperance Brennan, at this moment in her yoga pants and tank top, hair down was in it for the 30, 40 or 50 years she would get with her husband and she wouldn’t want it any other way. Breaking her out of her thoughts were the lyrics Booth was now lip-syncing to.

We’ll get it right this time …... I’ve gone for too long living like I’m not alive So I’m gonna start over tonight Beginning with you and I I don’t want to run from anything uncomfortable I just need this pain to end right now I’m not going Cause I’ve been waiting for a miracle

“Bones, you okay?”

The music had died down a bit and the current song playing was some kind of acoustic version of what she assumed was a very upbeat, jump around and scream song.

“Yes, of course… I’m-I’m more than okay Booth.”

“Okay, you wanna join me? It’s actually very therapeutic. You know? Just getting it all out.”

“Yes, I can imagine although I am quite positive, we’ll both need a shower after.”

“Well, how’s about we sweat it all out now and then clean each other in the shower?” Booth’s eyebrows shot up in a mischievous waggle. Throwing her head back laughing, Brennan shook her head at her husband’s very non-subtle way to seduce her.

“Oh Bones! Here’s another headbanger!”

Booth began again.

Oh no I just keep on falling And where’s hope, when misery comes crawling? With your fate, you’ll trigger a landslide And kill off this common sense of mind

“Oh I love this song!” Brennan cheered getting into the groove of just letting her body loose.

“You do? Bones, I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, I was out of state working with a colleague of mine on a research project. It was very… The subject matter hit close to home as it dealt with identifying bone remodeling on victims of abuse. Most of the case study came from children in the foster system.”

Booth now intrigued had paused the music momentarily to listen to Brennan.

“There were a few remains we were studying and a few children who were alive that we interviewed. One of the girls… Shannon was her name. She was a teenager. Similar start in the system like I had and the few homes she had been in prior to being rescued had been abusive. Very abusive. Anyways, I was working with her because I couldn’t explain it at the time, but I felt drawn to her.” Drawing a shaky breath, Brennan reached out to hold on to Booth. Something she did now when she needed to feel grounded.

“She and I worked together for days talking about her story. One day, I went by the shelter she was staying in to take her out to lunch. I went up to her room and this was the song she was listening to. On repeat. When I asked why, she said it gave her hope. It helped her acknowledge that any day might be the end, that her life was difficult, but she had a purpose. She was born for this and she would live like it… like any day was her last. She wanted that chance to do so. To live like every day was her last by choice instead of wondering if it would because of her reality. Given the injuries she had sustained, and from what I saw on her x-rays, that may have well been the case when she was in those homes.”

“What happened to her after that?”

“Well, that day, I danced around with her a bit and we got lunch came back to her place and danced around some more. I helped with homework and she got me a copy of the song so I could listen to it. She got adopted. At the end of the study, there was a couple who couldn’t have children and had wanted a teenage daughter to care for. They came, met Shannon and adopted her.”

“That must have been great for her.”

“Yes, it was. It was also quite emotional to see her go. I had helped her pack and get her stuff together. She left me with a copy of the song and a picture we took together. Every day, at least once a day, I would listen to it and think of her.” Brennan smiled softly; her eyes distant remembering the curly-haired young woman she had befriended years ago.

“Do you know where she is now?”

“Yes, she’s living in New York I believe. She had moved to California with her adoptive parents. We stayed in touch. Via email mostly. She would send me essays to proofread for her, reach out about questions in general about life after the system. She graduated in the top ten of her high school class. She was fourteen at the time when I met her. She then went to Boston University. Majored in linguistics and writing. She works for the New Yorker I believe and teaches part-time at NYU.”

“She made something of herself. Just like you did.”

“Yes, she did.”

“Do you still talk to her?”

“Every now and then. She considers me a mentor, although our relationship is more reminiscent of an older and younger sister duo.”

“I’d love to meet her one day.”

“I think we can set that up. I’ll email and set up a video call. I’d love to catch up with her also. It’s been a while since our last correspondence.”

“You know Bones, I’ve told you this before but seriously. People don’t give you enough credit for that heart of yours. It is beautiful baby. As are you.”

“Booth…” Brennan ducked her head shyly at her husband’s praises.

“Well, this is for Shannon.” Lifting the remote, he turned on the song again and they both danced their hearts out. Booth for the huge heart and life his wife had been born for and Brennan for the life she realized she was born for.

Say this with me go We were born for this (We were born for this) We were born for this (We were born for this) We were born for, we were born for

Brennan hopped up on the couch and banged her head, throwing her fists up singing rather than lip-syncing.

Everybody sing Like it’s the last song you will ever sing Tell me, tell me can you feel the pressure? Everybody live Like it’s the last day you will ever see

And that they did. On the couch, on the floor, jumping around the entire floor. Booth and Brennan danced as if that night were their last and when the music continued, so did they. Only stopping to grab beer from the fridge and even then, they were so pumped they couldn’t stop the dancing. Then they drank for the hurt, pain, detours and chaos they had and were dealing with.

Why do we like to hurt so much Oh why do we like to hurt so much That’s what you get when you let your heart win

When they had danced for another hour, they let their heart win for the night. Retiring to their bathroom, they gently washed each other cooling off. Gentle touches turned to passionate moments of love declarations only to then end in them dancing together in a way they had perfected over the years they had been together. Silent pleas, approvals and encouragements. Hands covering the others screams only to remember that there was a thunderstorm scheduled that night. Noise was warranted and indulging in a laugh together, foreheads pressed together, limbs a tangle in sheets, they proceeded to create their own thunderstorm.

A storm so beautiful, so fragile, passionate, life-giving and breathtaking. It was an enigma like them. To Temperance Brennan and Seeley Booth, it was a storm they would live in and would make last forever unwilling to force their eyes to see the end.

#bones fanfiction #booth x brennan #bonestv #excerpts from my writing #Seeley Booth #Temperance Brennan

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ratsoh-writes · 3 years

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My curiosity got me, so here is my submission for a match up. Sorry it’s so long! I look forward to seeing your reasoning.

PERSONALITY TRAITS:

MOM FRIEND: I’m the friend that is almost over prepared for any situation and is protective, usually keeping others out of too much trouble or danger, but not stopping them from doing that stupid thing. Some people will only learn from doing it and so long as it won’t seriously injure or kill them, go for it. And I mean I am seriously prepared for most situations: I have fluffy throw blankets and pillows in my car for those who get cold, extra towels just in case we somehow get wet, umbrellas/ponchos for those who need one, snacks/water just in case someone gets hungry/thirsty, first aid kit for small injuries, etc. Ironically, I am the only one without a kid so far.

Extension of this would be my habit to act as the friend “nurse.” Willing to spend hours taking care of a friend who isn’t feeling well and give platonic cuddles if needed.

Another extension of this is my need to feed anyone who comes over. I think my love language is acts of service after typing all this.

I’M LISTENING: Always willing to offer an ear, even if I don’t believe I can council you. Plus, for some reason, people just end up splurging life stories or something that is bothering them to me. My life is mostly spent as that Naruto meme: “I have no clue what is going on, but I’ll pretend that I do.” But I’m responsible about it, I won’t offer advice I’m not sure about and will usually refer you to someone else I feel is up to the task.

PATIENT: Earned after years in customer service dealing with toddlers disguised as customers and also with friends who far exceed my energy levels. It takes a good bit to anger me or very specific things to set me off, such as when I have asked you to please stop bringing up that stressful memory of mine again and again.

I am told I am terrifying when I’m actually pissed. Most times I don’t remember much when I actually snap, just that it happened, but details are fuzzy.

CHILL: My counselor once told me if I “Was any more laid back, I’d be on her floor.” And to a point, she is correct. My house was on fire and my reaction wasn’t panic at the time, it was this odd calm that even when I reported the fire to my sister and authorities, they didn’t believe me until I showed them said fire. I am reserved with those I don’t know well or are not comfortable around. Once I trust you or you get me on a topic I love, I’m surprisingly passionate and animated.

I feel this fits under here, but I also tend to do things at my own pace. And not much can change that pace, but I will get what I set out to do done.

WHY ME?: Too many people tell me I’m a natural leader, even got awards for it, but I never volunteer or want to be the leader in anything. Usually, I just end up in that role somehow, some way. Most times because I hate disorganized messes and those times the people I am with have trouble making concrete decisions and need some guidance to work out what they really want to do or the pressure to actually make a decision. I may be an unwilling leader, but I will step up if needed.

WHIMSICAL: Sarcasm, dry and sometimes cheesy humour, and an attitude to boot, but it’s rarely to be mean. Most times it is me being playful and if I’m teasing you, that usually is a sign I like you and enjoy your company. Plus, sometimes people need a little laugh or a spark of different emotion to get them out of a funk.

INTEGRITY: I could absolutely despise someone, but like hell I’m going watch them suffer. In the same sense, if I take a job, I will do it right and not half ass it. And far too many times I’ve had to step in and explain certain concepts in order to disperse negativity or help others see from another perspective to avoid adversity.

CUDDLE BUG: With people I am comfortable with, I am a cuddly person and do not mind a lot of skinship. I am used to friends hanging all over me. Plus, sometimes I just want to curl up someone as well.

STRENGTHS:

Observant

Good communication skills & honest

Responsible & reliable

Full Size Human Heater. I am ridiculously warm and always putting off heat. Friends and coworkers alike use me as a portable heater.

Surprisingly good at being sly and collecting information if needed, like getting a shoe or ring size without tipping the person off it’s for a gift. If they manage to call it, I always fess up and playfully make a fuss they ruined the surprise.

WEAKNESSES:

Terrible at lying, so I tend to simply keep my mouth shut instead

Willfully oblivious to flirting and absolute flustered mess once I am forced to recognize said flirting

Vast open waters terrify me

Tendency to keep my troubles to myself and try to solve problems on my own (don’t want to be a burden)

Can become despondent if I feel useless at times

HOBBIES:

ART: I’ve dabbled in several different medias, but my favorite is just a pencil or pen and any paper I can get my hands on. I love drawing figures in dynamic poses. Second favorite is sculptures built from wire.

COSTUMES: I love Halloween, since it is the perfect excuse to make and wear my homemade costumes. It also lets me challenge myself by making more complicated pieces like hooves, horns, and even chain mail.

BAKING/COOKING/CANDY MAKING: I’m the cook in the house and I love it. Seeing people enjoy my food is my favorite part. Just don’t ask me for a recipe, I literally don’t have any and I won’t remember what I did.

ORGANIZING/CLEANING: I love puzzle games like Tetris and Catherine, and I love a challenge. Combine the two by having me organize and rearrange a space to make it work and I am in heaven.

STORYTELLING: When a story needs to be told, I am the one asked to tell it. Specifically I have such an entertaining way of telling it according to others. Animated and colorful language, plus a few pit stops along the way with some side stories.

PET PEEVES:

CONTRARY: Do not tell me to do something while I am doing it. That will kill any motivation I had to do it.

BACKHANDED COMPLIMENTS: It is possible to compliment someone without insulting them or others at the same time. It just makes the compliment feel empty and negative. And I tend to just hum and not reward that behaviour.

TOO MUCH ATTENTION: I don’t mind attention… from people I trust and are comfortable with. Feel free to cuddle and coddle away. But vast amounts of attention from those I feel are strangers or acquaintances will unnerve me (I have literally left functions immediately where I walked in and was bombarded with shouts and attention aimed at me-sensory overload I guess).

ODD HABITS:

NESTING: No, I don’t think I have enough blankets and pillows. Yes, the giant stuffed animal is needed and his name is Snuffie.

CRUSH ME: I’m serious, some days I need one of my friends or my bf to just lay all their dead weight on top of me. It’s just oddly therapeutic.

NO, I’M NOT PREGNANT: Just cause I ate that jar of olives in one sitting or suddenly was craving jalapeno juice and crushed ramen noodles. There are never enough pickles and yes, I am determined to try every kind–I may have a vinegar addiction.

IRONY: I bake some of the tastiest, sweetest desserts and make pralines and caramels, YET I myself do not favor sweet things.

HANDS: One thing I tended to do with nearly every boyfriend and guy friend I had was play with their hands and put their hands on my face/head. I lived for being pet and having people play with my hair.

NONVERBAL MOMENTS: Sometimes words are just too much, so I instead make sounds. Can be anywhere from a growl to a cat like noise, or the reliable “Nyeh.”

NO NOs:

I think I listed a few as I went through everything else, but ignoring boundaries is the main one. If I tell you I’m not comfortable with something, do not make me repeat myself. And usually that something is given a pass the first few times it is done before I say something and explain why I’m not comfortable with it.

Example: I have thick, curly hair, a product of my mixed heritage. Well, sometimes I like to straighten it and I did just that one day. Well, a coworker decided to make a backhanded compliment, stating I should stick to what works: straight hair over my natural hair. I had gotten on him about it, but I decided to vent to a friend about what happened as well. She proceeded to constantly repeat those hurtful words and while I knew she meant it playfully during those times, I had to stop her and sit her down, explain I don’t find it funny cause the words are linked to a hurtful, possibly racist memory that I didn’t want brought up again and again. Thankfully she understood and stopped. So, I don’t snap immediately and I understand sometimes a sit down needs to be done.

Ok first of all I gotta say that I absolutely loved reading your matchup!!! It’s so well organized, detailed, and the descriptions are pretty creative!!! Do you do any writing yourself, because you should!!! alright, geek out moment over.

i’ve got three guys you’re perfect for, but let’s go for the obvious one. HONEY!!

You’ve checked off everything on honey’s list: caring, organized, laid back, and good for cuddling. Now here’s what he has to offer to the table: he will cuddle you back. This guy is the ultimate cuddle slut. You’ll never feel unloved with him. Honey is also a very thoughtful and appreciative guy. He likes caring for his partners. You may be the mom friend, but he’ll do his best to return that love as well.

Honey is a little awkward, but he’s also sensitive and empathetic to how others feel. If he puts his foot in his mouth, just tell him and he’ll never bring it up again. Plus this guy is just so honest and genuine that backhanded compliments aren't really a thing with him.

Also you like costumes!!! He’s always wanted to try cosplay or theatre. You just might be the person to give him the courage to finally stick to one.

dating honey includes:

cuddles upon heaps of soft things. He has his own collections of ridiculously soft blankets and pillows that he’ll happily add to your collection. Honey is also a master at pillow forts.

honey is a good listener. He’ll be happy to just sit back and enjoy the stories you tell. There is start though, who is also the storyteller of the underswap home. Any funny story you give about your time together will be rewarded by star with a funny story from his and honey’s childhood, much to honey’s embarrassment

if you don't really like sweet things but love baking them, then honey and star will happily finish them for you. People are usually surprised about how just how much skeleton monsters can pack away.

he’s a picky eater and will give you the wtf face when you fufil your weird cravings though lol

Oh! Also if you’re wondering, the other two would’ve been either oak or coffee

#undertale imagines #underswap #matchups #submission

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