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bongo-clash · 2 years

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I Want To Break Free

Ectober week prompt: Six Feet

'When three members of Casper High’s football team make one mistake too many, they’ve got no choice other than to bury the evidence. But, both fortunately and unfortunately for them, dead doesn’t mean gone, and they’ve been living in a ghost town for years.'

(Content warnings in tags || fic under cut!!)

For all that Amity Park is the poster child for widescale property damage, the crime rate is practically nonexistent. There’s something about finding a common enemy in the violent ghosts ravaging their town that wards off that willingness to go against another human being’s interests like that; murder, in particular, has been shoved off the table since the moment the victims started coming back to haunt them. It’s common knowledge that if you kill someone in Amity Park, everyone is going to find out.

This is exactly why three A-listers are shitting themselves right about now.

Look, they hadn’t meant for it to go this far. It’d been such a harmless thing in theory- or, well, maybe not harmless, but it shouldn’t have gone any further than humiliation and maybe a bruise or two. They should’ve known it only takes a bad fall. They’re footballers- they should’ve known. But it’d been thoughtless, a split second decision made in the incredibly brief time the opportunity had been presented to them. All Dale had said was ‘Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if you tripped him?’.

And it had been funny, until he hadn’t gotten up again. Now Danny Fenton is dead on the shower room floors, and every single one of them is guilty.

There’s a long time where none of them know what to do. God, they’ve just killed someone, is this second-degree or manslaughter? There certainly wasn’t any express malice, but they’d definitely thought about swiping his feet out from under him without considering that he might hit his head; that could definitely been seen as implied malice. But they hadn’t meant to! They’d never wanted to, it was never supposed to go this far, and it was especially never supposed to go this far here.

‘Here’, as in some place at the end of the school day, when the buses were about to leave and the teachers weren’t waiting up for them, having let them lock up before and having been willing to do it again. ‘Here’, as in Casper High in the first place, that had already seen tragedy in a fire taking almost the entire student body in the fifties, and had now witnessed a murder in its reconstructed halls. ‘Here’, as in Amity Park, the ghost town, where there’s a non-zero chance of this literally coming back to get them.

The silence charged with the smell of deodorant and a wet body already beginning to self-digest is broken, finally, by Dash- the one to trip him, and the first one to back away when he’d felt Fenton’s limp hand for a pulse and found nothing.

“What the Hell do we do?” He whispers, voice barely reaching anyone else in the room, but you could hear a pin drop beneath the still-running showerheads, and everyone was straining to hear it, desperate to divert their attention. My dad’s a lawyer, he thinks, is there any chance he could save us from this?

As if reading his mind, and said like the instigator that knows they’ll be thrown under the bus for suggesting this in the first place, Dale interrupts the train of thought with a sturdy “We can’t go to the police.”

“Dude, are you insane?” Kwan splutters, barely able to keep his gaze from flitting back to the crime scene. And holy shit, this really is a crime scene. “Dale, we can’t just try and bury this, that’s so much worse.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re a witness!” Dale snaps, looking overwhelmed but outsourcing it to aggression, eyes wide and afraid but brow furrowed. “You’re really gonna let us take the fall like that? We’re your friends.”

Kwan, to his merit, is standing his ground, despite looking incredibly green around the edges. In fairness, all three of them probably look that way. “I’d rather be a witness than an accomplice! I can’t- we can’t-!”

“We’re the only people here.” Dash interrupts numbly, and this is probably the second most awful thing he’s ever done apart from actual murder, but all that’s running through his head right now is I can’t go to jail. His life can’t be over with one dumb mistake even if Danny’s is. “Who’s to say it wasn’t you who did it? All the teachers have seen how we act around the school; we work as a group, always. They’re not gonna believe it was just one of us. They’re gonna believe it was all of us.”

This is his best friend, and he’s convincing him to help hide a body by threatening him, because Dash accidentally committed murder and this does not in the slightest feel like something that’s actually happening to him right now. The whole world feels like a smudged trail against the lens of a window pane. There are tears in Kwan’s eyes.

“I’m never fucking talking to any of you again.” Kwan spits, voice damp with distress. “You- You’re monsters for this. It stops being an accident the moment you start trying to cover shit up, I just- this is horrible.”

The realisation that he’s never heard his friend swear before is a thousand miles away, back in some world where Dash’s biggest problem was getting detention for making Mikey late to class on Tuesday. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t sad. “But you’re gonna help us.”

His expression is the picture of helplessness, but he doesn’t say a word in retort. Silently, the agreement is made that no one is going to know.

Figuring out what they’re supposed to do with the body is a completely different ball game, though. Kwan had enough of an interest in forensic science (wrenched from him completely two minutes ago, but he can’t erase what facts he already has) to know that dead bodies are apparently heavy as Hell, and the woods is too far to carry one towards. It’d be a terrible idea to bury the body under or near the football field- the disturbed soil would be way too noticeable- but to get to any other place with easily accessible ground, they’d have to transport the body through town and none of them could drive. That doesn’t leave them with a lot of options.

“Behind the bike shed.” Dale exclaims suddenly. “The gap between the shed and the hedge is so tiny no one even goes there to make out- no one’ll even notice the difference.”

“But won’t people look around the school if someone got murdered here?”

Dale looks to the showers nobody bothered to turn off, and down at the body with glazed eyes. “They won’t know it was here if all the blood’s down the drain.”

There’s not much to argue with there. Dale has the forethought to go outside and make sure the coast is clear while grabbing a sheet of tarp from the equipment shed, bringing it back into the room with lips pursed into a hardset line.

Kwan keels over and spills his guts into the shower drains the moment Dash lifts the body, blood and water congealing at the back of Fenton’s head and spilling onto the floor, but no one says a word about it, they just wait until he’s finished. They wrap the body in the tarp until only the ends of his hair and the tips of his shoes are visible, and Dale directs the showerhead to wash away the gore. He tries not to squirm at the knowledge of what he’s holding in his hands right now, because if there’s any time to freak out it’s not now. Not when there’s still stuff left to do.

When they’ve gotten to the spot behind the shed, there’s already three shovels leaning against the back. Dash puts the body down underneath the hedge, and grabs a handle.

“Six feet.” He says. “And no one’ll have to know.”

It’s probably the most stupid thing he’s ever done other than trip Danny Fenton in the showers, but that same night, he goes back to the place they buried the body.

He doesn’t know why he thought it was a good idea. He hadn’t, most likely, but still, a piece of him felt like he needed to go back, that dumb part of his brain where all the morbid curiosity comes from and all his meanest ideas go. Regardless of the cause, though, at two in the morning not eight hours after they’d tried to flatten the soil, Dash is back at the grave.

His heart still aches with everything Kwan had said, begging them to just go to the police and come clean, because no matter how much he doesn’t want his life ruined he knows it already is. There’s not going to be any coming back from this- whether anyone finds the body and discovers their part in it or not, this is going to follow him for the rest of his life. That soil disturbed amongst the grass from upturning, wedged between the bike shed and the hedge, the ground shaking with motion.

…The dirt. The dirt’s moving. Why’s the dirt moving?

All at once, he jumps back about five paces and freezes stock still, gaze transfixed towards the soil rumbling like the epicentre of a personal earthquake. His mind is terrifyingly blank as he watches, hearing more and more coming from beneath as the time passes somewhere between a good few minutes and an eternity, something like muttering or moans permeating the earth.

A hand grasps for purchase as it breaks through the top layer of the soil- pale, grimy, and fuzzing at the edges with translucence. The palm finds flat ground some centimetres away, and with a sound like a grunt or a cry, the corpse pulls itself out of the ground.

Danny Fenton stands in full form before him, brown blood smudged across his temple from the back of his head and dirt caking every other inch of him. The tarp is sticking out from the ground like a tongue. “Hey Dash,” Fenton sighs, like he hadn’t just crawled out of his own unmarked grave alive. “What are you doing here? It’s… oh man, it’s totally past curfew. My parents are gonna kill me for sure.”

It’s that comment in particular that snaps him out of his stupor, catching the weird look in the other boy’s eyes. “Fenton, what the fuck?” His voice is half-wheezing with disbelief, surprised he’s able to breathe between it at all. This is impossible, shouldn’t be happening, but, this is Amity. The dead come back to haunt them all the time.

“What?” He asks blithely, before tilting his head to look back at the mound in the dirt, the hole that had been filled to hide him. “Oh, that? Don’t worry about it. No one comes back here anyway, and it’s not like they’ll care if they do.”

He can’t for the life of him process the calm in Danny’s voice. “You were dead.” He says. “I killed you. We buried you.”

“But you didn’t report it to the police, huh?” Not knowing how else to respond, Dash shakes his head. “Yeah, makes sense, they never do. Still, guess that gives me less issues to deal with in the long run, and I can’t really complain about that even if the morality of the whole thing bugs me. You really should tell people about these kinds of things before they find out on their own, y’know? Oh, but Dash?”

Fenton has his back turned by now, having stretched his limbs out and began to walk off during his talk, but he turns his head just a little, then. Just enough that Dash can see the glint of sharp teeth underneath his lips. Just enough for his eyes to catch green under a light that doesn’t exist.

“No one’s gonna believe you.”

…

(When Kwan and Dale come to school with him the next day like nothing’s wrong, and they spot Danny Fenton talking with his friends by his locker like any other stupid day, they don’t say a word. They don’t make fun of him when he falls asleep in class after claiming to have had a ‘long night’, and they don’t tell their friends why they weren’t at Star’s house by eight, and they don’t ask Kwan to talk about it when they go to bathroom together at lunch and he has a panic attack over the sinks. Because Danny Fenton being alive is not possible, but if the dead won’t tell their secrets, then neither will they.)

(Neither will they.)

#tw death #tw murder #tw corpse #tw injury #Yes the title's from the Queen song I thought it'd be funny #ectoberweek2022 #day26 #dp fic #dp fanfic #danny phantom fic #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom #danny fenton #dash baxter #kwan dp #Bongo's Writing!!!

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bradenthompson · 2 years

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I Gouf'd It or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Chrome Marker (Part 2)

oops, posting part 2 kinda got away from me. But here we are, and the MG Gouf 2.0 has been finished to my own level of satisfaction (barring a second topcoat I may or may not do)

I noticed part 1 doesn't really attempt to "review" the kit, only because it's so old and plenty of reviews exist already, but I'll give my opinion all the same. Bit of a copout verdict here, stop me if you've heard this: "it's great if you're into this sort of thing." Nah but really, I do ultimately like it with a few caveats. For one thing, I think the presence of a real inner frame makes it instantly a better kit than the older and arguably more dated Mg Gouf Custom. Even if you prefer the look of the custom, it's hard to argue that specific kit is better built than this one. Build-wise, it felt very familiar to the Zaku ii I've already done, and that's because the inner frames are near-identical. But it's different enough that the build never feels painfully redundant.

Panel Lining/Decals

Panel lining on Zeon suits is a Less Is More type deal for me. With a few exceptions like the Geloog, I think the dumpy, massive surface level armor plates are what sell the Zeon suit designs. It makes sense in the way nonexistent giant robot armor makes sense; these are mass produced and aren't gonna have infinite complexities to them as a result. They're armored in the way this type of thing would be armored, what panel lines do exist sell how such a thing would be maintained and repaired, [third point to distract from the fact I don't know how to scribe goes here].

You'll notice in the finger vulcan more than anywhere else, my workaround for this is in the specific points where armor tapers into an edge. I elected to highlight these in black, using an acrylic paint marker I had lying around. Also noticeable in the shoulders and behind the knee.

I have another technique when it comes to decals, and I call it "using all of them." In most cases, I do exactly this but here I only use about 90% of what's assigned. idk bro, I think it works on Zeon suits like nothing else. I'm even proud of my dry transfer work, of which this kit has a few in places similar to the MG Zaku ii. Corporal ranking badges go on both shoulders, but I opted for only one. I do like me some asymmetry where it's tasteful.

Take note of the decal on the left shoulder, where I fucked up the transfer and there's a section cut short, and see that Gouf is clearly self-conscious about it. Sorry, little man, that one's on me.

You gotta take the good with the bad. And oh hey speaking of bad, this is the type of kit where a lot of joints crapped out on me. The right knee is loose, the left elbow is oddly tight, the left shoulder can't hold the shield at any angle over 45 degrees, the right thumb broke off entirely and, most frustratingly of all, a piece in the head broke off to the point of the head and neck no longer fitting tightly together. Some topcoating alleviated this somewhat but still, at the right angle or with the right unintentional finger push, the head's coming off. At a resting position this isn't an issue, and will not be for most of this guy's life as a model, not an action figure, but it bothers me all the same.

Topcoat Finale

I do the best poses, as you can clearly see.

The chrome joints lost a lot of their luster in the topcoat, which I'm fine with. With a matte finish, I think it looks just lovely. I still may go back and do a second coat, but as it stands I'm very happy with my work. No weathering this time around, I wanted to sell the "New and Improved" factor when posed next to my Zaku, which you'll note I have already gotten to doing.

Looks like that's it for the Gouf. Part of me wants the new Dom kit, but I don't yet know what angle I want to go at that one with. Maybe custom decals? I'll figure it out. Or do a kit from something else, even though my heart belongs to classic Universal Century. And my soul belongs to the monoeye.

ביז מיר טרעפן זיך ווידער ! ! !

#gunpla #mobile suit gundam #universal century #principality of zeon #gouf #modelkit #hobbymodel #gundam #this is no zaku boy #but my friend is zaku boy

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ithisatanytime · 5 months

Video

youtube

Charli XCX & Troye Sivan - 1999 [Official Video]

im gonna try to give a couple more examples to clear up and hopefully summarize my point on mass shootings but well see how it goes

first scenario, imagine the united states racial demographics were more like 99 percent jewish and one percent white, so basically an inversion of the racial demographics prior to unchecked immigration from mexico and ignoring blacks for simplicities sake. this may come as a shock to you, but i dont really feel personal predjudice against your average jew, and in fact i get along better and identify with them a little easier because im nuerotic and intellectual and a film buff etc. however if in that scenario i was the only white man in a school comprised entirely of jews and i either didnt realize i was jewish or didnt understand the extant of the difference between our two peoples, i might be tempted to do a mass shooting! why dont i have any friends? why am i so different? why are these guys such massive fucking perverts i mean i get horny too but im not gonna straight up grab some chicks ass on the back of the bus and make her cry just because shes there and i might get away with it! and likewise my jewish peers might wonder why im so prone to violent confrontation, why i care so little about money or academic accolades etc. now if i were say a chinese foriegn nationals son named ping attending this school, many of those same challenges would be remain but the source of the discomfort would be obvious to all and wed work a little harder to bridge the gap, when the difference between two peoples SEEMS either nonexistant or subtle but is in fact a wide gulf, and the reason isnt clear, you start running into serious issues. in that scenario im the same man i am now, and over all, im proud of the choices ive made, not all but on the whole im glad for the man i ended up being, but in that scenario i would be convinced that there was something DEEPLY DEEPLY wrong with me, after all its not allll the other students who are wrong and IM right, but then what? what human could just decide that happiness was never for them, comfort was never for them, and the literal torture they are subjected to by their peers are their own fault and they deserve it? no one will do this, no one does this. in this scenario suicide is the OBVIOUS answer, but if you have your heart set on dying you have nothing really to lose, so why not take out your tormenters who are alien to you to the degree that you cant even see them as human and they feel much the same way about you.

the other scenario hopefully will be brief and parts of it arent gonna make a lot of sense, but if you get it you will much better understand the underlying point.

pretend its the vietnam war still, white europeans are killing south east asians, and sure there were some vietnamese and blacks fighting on the americans side and some whites on the other, but almost every war is fought along ethnic lines and this is not a coincidence but the true purpose of war, it is the survival of the fittest competition when applied to highly social animals like us. imagine in this scenario the united states somehow transported american teenagers into vietnamese schools, but outwardly they looked vietnamese and had artificial vietnamese memories implanted to better fit it (LOOK I TOLD YOU IT WAS A SLOPPY METAPHOR JUST BEAR WITH ME) suppose one of these american sleeper cells just couldnt fit in with their peers, even though outwardly they were vietnamese inwardly they werent and they felt no kinship with these south east asian people beyond the most base layer of politeness. in his isolation, and inability to understand anyone around him, he snaps and shoots up his vietnamese school... mission accomplished?

i know thats confusing as hell, but what im getting at is these jew mass shooters arent doing anything that warriors havent done to neighboring tribes since the beginning of time, the difference is we had the genius idea of jumbling all these peoples up within the same border, under the same roof, almost like sharing a bed with a complete stranger. the conflict that arises is not just inevitable but benificial for the survival of the species, it IS the competition and it wont be put off for you or oprah winfrey or anyone, these are our instincts. people like klebold and harris, the tranny shooter recently, uncle ted the unabomber, even if they arent consciously aware that they are living basically alone amongst a potentially hostile foreign tribe, they know it on an intuitive level because it is instinct, and would do war from within our own borders against us.

#youtube

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morsartis · 3 years

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The Bets Are On

You didn't always get dragged along on tours with Marvus, preferring to stay away from the sheer chaos of the limelight. It wasn't that you hated it but you certainly weren't a big fan of having Marvus within reach and yet still not being able to see him. The packed schedule that came with his tours were a drag and you weren't even bound by them. But Ourani and Revell had both asked you to be there, it was important that Marvus and his band were seen in a positive light while on an Earth bound tour. A surprising side effect of the current alliance between the two was the fact bands were allowed to perform on both planets for the first time. It was an opportunity that no one in the entertainment industry could pass up on- not even Marvus. Which was why you were there- they were trying to involve as many humans as possible as a show of good faith. Revell had been the most excited about it as the band's human sensitivity trainer. The fact he wasn't even human in the first place was both amusing and a glaring sign of Alternia's many problems. It'd be insulting if Revell wasn't so serious about his job, often consulting as many humans as he possibly could over the most minute detail and advocating for an actual human to do the training instead of himself. Unfortunately his hands were tied on that front.

Lost in your own thoughts you nearly fell off the chair you were sitting in when Ourani slammed the door to the break room open looking frazzled. His usually slightly wrinkled but tidy clothes were a wreck- tie askew and shirt buttoned wrong with his hair sticking up at odd angles. He looked like he'd survived a mob. "Thaaaat's it! I caaaan't do this aaaanymore! Maaaarvus is driving me to drink!" He shrieked the second the door swung closed behind him. You winced slightly and gave him a sympathetic smile.

"How I've laaaasted this long is aaaa daaaamn mystery!" He continued tossing his clipboard onto the table. You could only imagine what he'd been having to deal with.

"What did he do this time?"

"Whaaaat did he do this time? This time? Its less whaaaat he’s done aaaand more whaaaat he’s going to do! He purposely faaaailed every single humaaaan sensitivity course he waaaas instructed to taaaake! Do you haaaave aaaany ideaaaa how haaaard it waaaas to even get him to those courses? Its like trying to herd feraaaal purr-beaaaasts!” He all but wailed sinking down into the chair opposite from you. It creaked under his weight- built more for humans than adult trolls- and you feared it might collapse under the poor rust blood. The last thing he needed to happen when he was already this close to a break down.

“I know I talk a lot of shit about Marvus but he can’t be that bad.”

Those were clearly the wrong words to say to Marvus’ top personal assistant as Ourani looked at you with an expression bordering on murderous and manic.

“Oh, you think so huh? You think you caaaan haaaandle being Maaaarvus’ Personaaaal Aaaasistaaaant? You think you can do better thaaaan I caaaan? Fine! Why don’t you do my job todaaaay then? He’s got aaaa full schedule aaaand haaaas aaaalreaaaady shown signs of trying to blow it aaaall off!”

“Uh-,”

“Even better ideaaaa! We’ll maaaake aaaa bet out of it. If you caaaan get Maaaarvus to staaaay on traaaack I’ll paaaay some of thaaaat debt you owe to Gorjek.”

“Wh-,”

“Aaaand if you lose? I’ll finaaaally quit!” He was grinning wildly now, eyes bright with glee at the thought of quitting.

“How about if I win you just schedule Marvus a little down time?” You offered instead. Trying to hopefully keep him from losing it further.

“Fine.” He replied looking slightly less like he might jump over the table and throttle you or the next person to walk into the break room. With a more steadying breath Ourani extended his hand to shake on the bet and you gladly took it. Anything to keep him from going full American Psycho on everyone there. You both nearly lept out of your skins when his phone went off to let him know his short break was over. "How about that bet starts now and you go home to get some actual sleep?" You offered, Ourani nodded vigorously to that already shoving his clipboard into your hands. He couldn't seem to get out of there fast enough it seemed. You hoped he'd get some actual rest, the poor guy was one of the most overworked people on the job. Glancing down at the clipboard you winced. Ourani really wasn’t kidding when he said Marvus had a full schedule, looks like you could kiss any other plans you had today goodbye. Straightening out your clothes you went to go find Marvus- wherever he could have gotten. Most likely he wouldn’t be trying to hide from you. He’d be expecting Ourani to be the one trying to hunt him down.

You’d been wandering for five minutes when you finally found him. He was actually where he was supposed to be- chatting with his bandmates who immediately perked up to see you.

“Oh shit! Look who it is.”

“Hey guys, mind if I steal Marvus away for a second?” You asked cheerfully. His bandmates had a soft spot for you and it was easy to get them to agree. Their soft spot would make this bet a little easier to win, hopefully.

“Whatchu need babes?” Marvus asked once the two of you had gotten far enough away. You smiled up at him warmly. "Well, first off-," You grabbed the sides of his purple jacket to pull him down closer to your height, "I'd like a kiss." "Shit babe, all you had ta do was ask." He grinned leaning into you. His arm carefully wrapped around your waist as he tilted your chin up to get better access. You huffed a small laugh as he gave your lip a small nip before kissing you. Letting your eyes close for a brief moment to fully enjoy the kiss you cupped his jaw with your hands before regretfully having to pull back- Marvus attempting to follow you. "Secondly," You murmured interrupted by another brief kiss, "You have a meeting in two minutes." "What." You grinned at his flat off guard tone. Not being able to help yourself as you giggled. "I have your entire schedule for the day." "No."

"Mm, yes."

"Babe-,"

"You also have a meeting with Revell to talk about those courses you flunked out of."

"How-,"

"Ourani went home for the day, I'm gonna be your PA so he can actually get some sleep."

"Oh?"

"Don't get any ideas." You interrupted already knowing where his mind was going, "I'm going to make sure you get through your entire schedule whether you like it or not."

"C'mon, just give me an hour." "I might consider it-," He grinned, "After we get through your schedule."

Marvus pouted.

“Work Marvus. Focus on work.”

“Aww, but you be lookin’ so cute when you take charge.”

“And you’ll be a lot more appealing when you actually do your job.”

“Damn.” He muttered under his breath already standing back up to his full height. “Alright baby, guess we cans go to this meeting.”

It looked, at least for the moment, you might actually win this bet.

Then again, you had yet to get him to go to his meeting with Revell. For some reason those two couldn’t stand each other- you’d zoned out briefly during one of his rants only catching something vague about their ancestors that only confused you more. Revell was actually a kind troll though his threshold for what he dubbed ‘highblood nonsense’ was practically nonexistent. He seemed rather fascinated by human culture, often asking you questions on things he didn’t quite understand- some of his questions not even you could answer with any degree of accuracy. But, Marvus and him were known for their fights. Not even in the pitch leaning way either. You had yet to witness their fights but Ourani had talked about them looking pale and shaky- considering the fact that he’d been witness to the usual Alternian concert slaughter fests that happened with Marvus you had to admit you were afraid to see what could shake him like that. If Marvus' PR team was surprised to see him actually at the meeting they didn't say, though they seemed happy to see you with him. Taking your seat next to Marvus you glanced down at the schedule again. He had this meeting, his meeting with Revel, an autograph signing, and then a meeting with a lesser known human band you hadn't even heard of. Knowing Marvus all of these would be a few hours each.

“You bein’ awfully quiet over there.” Marvus murmured to you while his PR team bickered. You glanced up from the clipboard you’d been staring a hole through to give him a flat look. Better to not put him on edge.

“Just trying to figure out how to get you from point A to point B.”

“C’mon baby I ain’t that bad.”

“Ourani would beg to differ.”

“Then he can fuckin’ beg.”

You smacked his arm earning a small chuckle as he turned back to the meeting.

This was going to be a very long day.

#Marvus Xoloto x Reader #Marvus Xoloto #Hiveswap #Friendsim #Homestuck #introducing two new fantrolls for the sake of plot #who knows #i might make a list of who we have so far #diamond anon #hopefully this fits what you requested!#So sorry it took me so long but real life waits for no one #unfortunately #still taking requests #though they take a while to be answered #mspa reader #gonna answer as many asks and requests as I can tonight #lets see if I can do it!#tried to make this one longer to make up for the fact its late

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rkived · 3 years

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extra drabble #2: love is in the air and it’s rubbing it in right on pediatricsurgeon!jungkook’s face as he’s reminded that he’s awfully single once again. that doesn’t mean he can’t gift a special someone something, right?

or in which, jungkook thinks you’d look nice with tiffany & co. jewelry around your neck. (hospitalplaylist!au)

📍drabbles masterlist

‘‘What do you think she’ll like?’’ Taehyung asks Jungkook as they peruse through the Tiffany & Co. counters filled with expensive jewelry.

The youngest shrugs his shoulders, ‘‘Shouldn’t you know? You’re the boyfriend,’’ he comments, but it only garners him a displeased side-eye from his friend.

‘‘Why do I even bother asking for your help? You haven’t had a girlfriend in over a decade.’’ Taehyung mumbles, shaking his head as he keeps analyzing the sparkly bracelets. ‘‘So until you have one, don’t even try to use the I’m the boyfriend and I should know argument…women are far more complicated than that.’’

One of the pediatrician’s eyebrow raises, curious about the neurosurgeon’s words.

Jungkook blames Med School for his lack of ‘‘women knowledge’’. His dating life was basically nonexistent all throughout the years he was studying to get his degree and although he did try his best to go on a couple of dates after he got his specialization, he had realized that he was absolutely clueless about how to even date.

If he could grade his dating skills, Jungkook would give himself a less than average score.

He has to give credits to his friend. Although the older male was stressed about getting his younger girlfriend the perfect Valentine’s Day gift, at least he was trying. The neurosurgeon isn’t a patient person at all, and on any other occasion, Taehyung would’ve picked anything at random, swiped his credit card, and called it a day.

Jungkook doesn’t understand why does one put themselves through so much stress for one day. He’s a firm believer that there shouldn’t be a predetermined day to be romantic with your partner. Then again, Taehyung is right, the pediatrician hasn’t dated in a hot minute so what does he know?

The neurosurgeon clicks his tongue as he starts to think that he won’t be able to find anything for Yoonah in this store. He’s about to call Jungkook over to tell him that they should try Cartier next, but he holds himself back as he notices the youngest is stuck staring at one of the showcases displaying the latest arrivals.

Taehyung chuckles, placing his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and startling him. ‘‘Thinking about getting someone something for Valentine’s?’’ He asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Jungkook laughs nervously, ‘‘No! I uh─’’

‘‘I think Y/N would really like that, don’t you think?’’ Taehyung interrupts him, a teasing tone to his voice. He actually has no damn clue what you even like, but he thinks it’s funny to pester his friend, especially when it comes to you.

It’s almost comical how embarrassed Jungkook gets whenever you’re romantically implied to him.

In any other moment, he’d tell Taehyung off. What does the neurosurgeon even know about what you like? This time, however, Jungkook remains silent as he looks back at the necklace that had caught his attention. Two interlocked pendants hanging delicately from the gold chain. It is something you would like.

‘‘So, are you gonna get it?’’ The neurosurgeon asks him, it almost feels like he’s cornering the youngest into swiping his black card right then and there.

Jungkook stammers, lips slightly ajar as he debates inside his head if he should.

He’s really not the type to give people gifts, not even to you. Although he did give you that spa day certificate last year, it was only because his mom had given it to him in the first place and he couldn’t seem to find the time to use it, regifting it to you because coincidentally you had been complaining about knots in your back that same week.

‘‘Let’s go,’’ the pediatrician mumbles, tugging his friends’ jacket to get him to leave the store.

There’s a really vivid picture of you wearing the necklace with a big smile on your face that he can’t seem to get out of his mind now.

---

You’ve always had mixed feelings about Valentine’s Day.

On one hand, you think the festivity is cute. The hospital gets decorated with pink and red colors, there are heart-shaped paper banners hanging from the walls and there’s even free candy all over the place!

On the other hand, it serves as a yearly reminder that you’re terribly single and have no one to spend this day with. Of course, you could always do something with your friends. Sadly, your friends are all busy doctors. Besides, you are very aware this day is marketed for couples. Whoever came up with the friendship idea must’ve been single and felt left out.

You already have plans of your own anyway. A bottle of wine and a family-sized bag of your favorite chips are waiting for you at home, you’re only left to pick what movie will be the chosen one for tonight.

The debate of what rom-com to watch is stopped as you enter your office, a gasp escaping your mouth as you notice the bouquet of flowers over your desk. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, taken aback by the sudden surprise.

You hadn’t been expecting anything from anyone. You were quite content with the amount of candy you had received, but something like this was far away from your mind.

It almost even scares you to look at it closely. Afraid it could be a terrible joke or a simple mistake someone had made, an arrangement wrongly delivered to you instead of the original owner. That’s a possibility.

Mustering up the courage to get closer, you pick up the bouquet to notice there’s a small blue box snuggled between the pretty flowers. Your eyes widen because...Tiffany & Co.? Yes, this must be a mistake.

There’s no note attached, which only makes you wonder who could possibly this gift be for.

You can almost hear a little devil Yoongi whispering from your shoulder finders keepers, it’s only fair since it’s in your office anyway. But there’s also ethical angel Namjoon on your other shoulder telling you to do the right thing, which is to head towards reception and ask who had entered your office and left it behind. Which you do ─ angel Namjoon rejoices as devil Yoongi swears he’ll get away with it someday.

The receptionist is typing away at her computer’s keyboard, registering the new files into the system as she notices you approaching with the bouquet on hand and she stops her work to smile at you.

‘‘Hello, Doctor Y/L/N! I see you got your Valentine’s Day gift, heading home already?’’ She asks curiously.

You chuckle, ‘‘I think there’s been a mistake.’’ The comment makes the receptionist’s eyebrows furrow together, confused at your words. ‘‘I don’t have a Valentine, so there’s no way this is for me. There’s not even a note attached to it.’’

‘‘Ohhh, I see.’’ She says in a tone you can’t quite pinpoint, getting back to her typing quickly.

You clear your throat, ‘‘I was wondering if you know who went inside my office today?’’

The receptionist refuses to look at you again, eyes focused on the screen in front of her. She shakes her head no, ‘‘So many people come and go, I lose track of them!’’

You sigh, defeated. The receptionist takes one last look at you before you leave, ‘‘That gift is for you, Dr. Y/L/N.’’ Your gaze moves back towards her, but you can tell her lips are sealed. Whoever left this behind must’ve asked for secrecy.

Looking back down at the bouquet in your hands, you smile slightly at the idea of this being yours. Someone actually gave you something for once.

The receptionist chuckles at your flustered cheeks and the smile you’re biting back from spreading across your face.

----

Jungkook’s phone buzzes as he steps outside his bathroom. It’s a message from the group chat and he quickly opens it, fingers beginning to tremble as he hopes it’s the long-awaited message he’s been hoping to see throughout most of the day.

[9:30 PM] Y/N 🥰❤️: i think i have a secret admirer?

[9:30 PM] Seokjin: Welcome to the club!

[9:31 PM] Namjoon: Why? Did you get something today?

The message that proceeds is one that makes Jungkook’s heart stop momentarily. It’s a selfie of you smiling, a gold necklace being the main focus as it sits pretty on your chest. These are the moments the pediatrician doesn’t question Namjoon’s diagnosis, he is crushing hard.

[9:34 PM] Yoongi: It looks expensive, good for you Y/N.

[9:32 PM] Taehyung: omg :0

[9:33 PM] Taehyung: that necklace looks awfully familiar…..

Jungkook is too busy staring at the picture to even notice Taehyung’s teasing.

It’s just like he had pictured, but much better.

a/n: hiii guys happy valentine’s day!! my gift for y’all is this drabble <3 pining 101 is a crowd favorite and i feel rlly guilty abt abandoning it :( but i HAD to write smthn for these two for vday!! hope u enjoyed n sorry (again) for the wait :P ps: although this is an extra drabble, this does take place during the main drabbles timeline!

#jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook au #jeon jungkook drabble #bts drabble #d: pining 101 #kept it cute n short y'all for once

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Thigh Highs (Part 2)

Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Shinsou Hitoshi, Todoroki Shouto (bonus!)

Genre: Spice 😏 College AU!

Scenario: Your boyfriend sees you wearing thigh high socks for the first time in your relationship.

PART 1

Word count: 1,655

Tags: @cyanide9602 @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: Here’s 2 more best boys Sharkbabe and Shinboi, and a small spicier Todo scenario for my fellow Shouto simps 😉 Here are some more boys simping over thicc thighs. Enjoy the spice before I post some angst 😁

And yes, it’s always Todoroki thirst hours hush

Kirishima Eijirou

You have nothing better to do this weekend; assignments are all finished, exams were done for the week, and you really don’t feel like watching or reading anything new. That last one is particularly because your boyfriend is off doing who-knows-what with his friends. Thinking about it leaves a frown on your face. It’s not that you don’t want your boyfriend to have friends - in fact, you were the one who had told him that he was spending too much time with you and he was abandoning his other relationships - but now he was taking it overboard; the entire week he was with his bros and paid no attention to you!

So here you are, rummaging through your closet and drawers putting together some outfits to wear for the rest of the school year just to make yourself feel better. At least you can look hot waiting for your boyfriend to come back. You decide to try out a few outfits to match your thigh high socks since you’ve always wanted to try wearing them out instead of just sleeping with them. A few Instagram posts of them with shorts had caught your fancy, so what’s stopping you from pulling it off?

As you thought, standing in front of the mirror displayed a cute casual outfit that shows off your legs nicely, even if there is a slight digging into your thighs at the tops (thank you thickness). Playing around with a few poses in front of the mirror led to you taking some pictures on your phone, just in case you needed to remind yourself of the outfits.

And then a splendid idea flashes through your mind. Pulling up a chair in front of your mirror, you sit down and cross your legs.

Oh my.

The energy this pose exudes is confident, taunting, a classic boss bitch.

And, with a devious smile on your face, you know exactly how you want to use this power. You send two of the best pictures of you in this position to Kirishima without a caption. Let’s see what he’s gonna do now.

Not even five minutes later, without so much as a reply, there’s a firm knock at your door. As soon as you open it, Kirishima whooshes into your room, easily lifting you up in his arms and slamming the door behind him before tossing you onto your bed and hovering over you. His scarlet orbs flash dangerously, boring into yours and effectively sending a shiver through your body.

“I didn’t know you were so sneaky, babe,” he smirks, leaning even closer to your face, pulling you closer to him using his harsh grip under your thighs, “Sending me a picture like that knowing it would rile me up.” He places a single searing kiss on your lips before trailing down to your neck, your collarbone, lifting your shirt to place more down your stomach to the hem of your shorts. “Such a tease. You know how much I love these thighs.”

Between his voice lowering an octave and the vibrations and kisses against your soft skin, you quiver and squeak out his name only to yelp when his sharp teeth replace his lips. “No one can see you in these besides me. Don’t flaunt your legs for anyone else.” Kirishima leaves more bites along your sensitive, plush inner thighs, marking you as his. He chuckles darkly feeling your fingers grip his hair, bringing his head level back to yours with a cocky smirk. “Were you looking for my attention, babe? Looks like you can’t handle it.”

Shinsou Hitoshi

"Can we not talk about class anymore? I wanna just sleep and cuddle." Shinsou's arm over your torso hugs you closer to his body. His heavy eyelids close and his nose burrows into the crook of your neck.

"You're right, this week was a drag," you chuckle, bringing your hand up to stroke his hair. "Sleep was nonexistent for both of us."

After the week we've had, it would be an understatement to say we want to sleep the entire weekend away, just to follow the entire routine over again next week, and the next and the next until Finals come up.

I sit up from my bed. "I wanna show you something, you might like it."

Which is why I believe in breaking up the mundane with a few tricks sometimes.

You tear yourself away from his warmth and roll off the bed, approaching your drawers. Shinsou lets out a groan from your withdrawal, but keeps his eyes closed. Poor boy must be tired, you think, Maybe this will cheer him up. You had seen the cutest pair of thigh socks online that reminded you of your soft, cat-obsessed boyfriend and secretly bought them for an occasion like today where he needed to be cheered up.

You slid them on and stood at the edge of the bed where your boyfriend still has his eyes closed. Clasping your hands behind your back and trying to suppress the smile on your face, you clear your throat. “What do you think?”

He cracks an eye open lazily before darting up and blatantly staring at my legs, making me chuckle at his wide eyes. The socks I found are plain black, but at the top are cat faces complete with yellow eyes, whiskers, a nose, and triangular ears. Running his tongue across his bottom lip, Shinsou glances up at me before flickering back down. “Why don’t you come over here so I can see them better.”

You crawl back onto the bed, legs outstretched in front of you towards your boyfriend.

But he shakes his head and hums. “Still too far away, come closer.” His large, warm hands grip my hips and pull me over so I’m straddling his waist. “Much better.”

I rest my arms around his shoulders, heat rising to my cheeks as caresses the tops of my socks. “So? Do you like them?”

His fingers tug the material. “They’re cute, I admit. And soft like a cat.” The digits ghost up farther towards the middle of my thighs to draw circles on them. “But I think these are much softer.” Stroking the skin and grasping some of the plushness, “They do make your legs look more delicious than usual.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, tightening your grip around his neck and turning your face away. “This isn’t the response I was expecting.”

Shinsou uses the opportunity to latch his lips to your neck. “Didn’t think you’d rile me up from a pair of socks?” His thumbs slide under your shorts, squeezing more of your thighs and massaging them. “I haven’t had my way with you for almost a week.” He journeys farther down right in the center of your collarbone. “There’s a lot of pent up frustration in me, and you look too cute for me not to have fun with you now.”

Todoroki Shouto (Bonus scenario!)

You had just discovered the beauty and allure of thigh high socks thanks to Mina. Putting a pair on was the most magical thing you could have done, and you had to take at least 50 photos of you in them in so many poses, much to your boyfriend’s chagrin. You’d spent the last ten minutes away from his warmth, leaving him impatient as he watches you enjoy yourself. All by yourself, ignoring his personal opinion on your new fashion choice. Todoroki has all the love and patience in the world, but he finds his frustration slowly creeping up on him.

“Love, are you finished yet?”

“Wait, Sho, I just got an idea.” You pull your chair up to your mirror, sit down, and cross your legs.

Todoroki blood rushes all over his body at an otherwise innocent position, the room suddenly a degree hotter.

He can’t take it anymore.

Rising up from your bed, he strolls over to you and stands behind your unsuspecting figure, still buzzing with excitement over how amazing you look. “Darling, I think I know the perfect picture you should take,” he states in his normally smooth voice.

You turn around with your innocent, wide grin. “Really? Tell me!”

He takes your hand to move you out of the chair before sitting on it himself and tapping his leg. Tugging your arm down to lean into your ear, his voice drops an octave. “Come sit in my lap, baby.”

In that instant, your body ignites, responding immediately to his suggestion and taking your seat on him. His warm hands rest right above your hips as you cross your legs again. To say the image looks hot would be an understatement. You’re frozen, captivated by what’s staring back at you.

“Are my hands okay here?” Your boyfriend’s breath fans your ear. “Or should I move them?” You watch as one skids down to rest on one of your thighs, the other sliding up to your waist as his pinky drags the edge of your shirt up to reveal your skin underneath.

“Sh-Shouto,” you squeak, pressing your legs closer together as heat rushing through your body.

His hot lips brush right under the sensitive spot under your ear. “I thought you wanted a good picture?” Butterfly kisses slowly trace down your skin. “Take it,” the command barely a whisper tickling your skin while his hands grip you tighter. “So you remember who holds you like this, who makes you flustered.”

Your shaky hands press the button, mind clouding over, right before he nips your nape and your hand flies down to grab his hand on your thigh. Your body is on fire when you turn around, pushing your body flush to his. Disregarding your phone, you steal Todoroki’s lips desperately, and he smirks at your behavior while his hands squeeze that space where your thighs join your butt. “Finally got your attention,” he chuckles, realizing his neediness finally reached you as well.

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mostlycompetentwriter · 3 years

Text

The Dreamz

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Seo Changbin

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Language, Smut

Genre: Established Relationship

Summary: It’s your first Christmas with your boyfriend, Changbin. You want to make it memorable and surprise him, but maybe it’s Changbin who’s determined to make it unforgettable for you.

A/N: This was written for @clandestine-lixie‘s Smutmas Collab!!!

You were a sentimental person at heart, and the people closest to you had always entertained your tendencies to take things to the extreme, especially when they involved your firsts.

For example, when you were barely seven-years-old, you were over-the-moon excited for your first dance recital, and you planned well in-advance for the event. You put on a pre-show for your family members exclusively in the living room of your childhood home, and you demanded that everyone dress-up for the occasion (even though it wasn’t required); and after the show, you forced your mother to take you out for dinner where you ate far too many cookies while indulging a very sugary milkshake.

And this tendency for the extreme persisted well into your older age, illuminating some of the finer memories you had of your most special moments. Like moving in with your boyfriend for the first time when you threw an impromptu party that very same evening despite Changbin wanting nothing more than to collapse on the new king-sized mattress in your bedroom.

But at this point, the two of you had been living together for close to six months, and since this was your first Christmas together with Changbin in the brand new apartment you had leased together, you were determined to make it memorable.

Too bad Changbin was making things far more difficult than they needed to be, and you would think the man would know the finer details of Christmas tree decorating.

“No, Bin,” you sighed. “You can’t just put all the ornaments in the same area! They have to be spread out.”

Changbin chuckled when you snatched away the adorable BB8 ornament he had been attempting to perch next to the other droid.

“Maybe you should do it instead,” Changbin suggested, and he was clearly amused at your frazzled attempts to decorate the Christmas tree.

“We should do it together,” you insisted, taking a step back to scrutinize the work you had completed thus far. “It’s important to make our first Christmas memorable.”

“Oh, I can make it memorable,” Changbin said with a cheeky wink, and he sat down behind you on one of the loveseats surrounding the fireplace. “We should start a new tradition,” Changbin continued, and he waited until you had adjusted a few more ornaments in place before giving him your undivided attention.

“What kind of tradition?”

“Let’s open one present tonight, babe,” Changbin said, and he was next to you in a second, reaching for one of the packages from the back. “Unwrap this.”

“Oh?” you huffed, accepting the present from him. “It sounds like you were already planning for this to happen.”

“Well?” Changbin shrugged. “We used to do this when I was a kid, so I thought you might like it...”

You sighed, feeling an insurmountable weakness for Changbin’s pout. “Fine,” you agreed, and you surveyed the pile of presents you had purchased for Changbin conglomerated together. “Open this one,” you said, locating a familiar package.

“You first,” Changbin said, and he pulled you down onto his lap with his present discarded next to him; clearly, this was meant for him to enjoy just as much as you.

“Eager tonight?” you teased him.

“This gives me reason to be,” Changbin said with eyes that were literally sparkling with mischief, and you were careful with the wrapping paper while finding yourself thoroughly amused by Changbin’s excitement.

“What is it, anyway?” you questioned aloud, reaching the small black box that had previously been hidden by the bright red paper.

“You should find out,” Changbin suggested, even though he was already a step ahead of you in removing the tape holding the edges in place.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” you asked, feigning annoyance as you sorted through the tissue paper, feeling yourself start to frown when your fingertips touched what felt like the most delicate satin that you had ever encountered.

But the texture of the gift wasn’t enough to keep you from over-reacting to the scandalous revelation of what had been waiting inside the gift wrap. “Changbin!” you screeched, tossing aside the lingerie like it had physically burned you.

“Hey!” Changbin protested. “That was expensive!”

“You bought me lingerie!” you hissed, flinching away when he dangled the very tiny pair of black panties in front of your eyes.

“You’ll look sexy in this,” Changbin purred, and he encouraged you to take it from him. “Will you try it on for me?”

“Try it on?” you repeated, hesitantly accepting the thin piece of fabric that might as well have been nonexistent.

“It’s a matching set,” Changbin said, and he reached over for the strapless bra that happened to be lined with a very delicate lace pattern. “I had a store associate help me find it.”

“You went shopping around a lingerie store with an associate?” you questioned, feeling a spike of unjustified jealousy. “She didn’t model it for you, did she?”

Changbin snorted. “No, my model is right here,” he said, taking your hand to fold the other barely-there piece of intimate fabric into your hand. “Please, baby?”

Had you already pointed out your weakness for his pout?

“Alright,” you agreed, whining at Changbin’s outlandish enthusiasm to see you practically naked in your living room.

Ten minutes later, you found yourself fidgeting nervously in front of the floor-length mirror in your bedroom, tugging at the straps of Changbin’s gracious gift for you.

“Is it supposed to be this small?” you wondered because the panties barely covered your ass and the lacy top did little to protect your cleavage from practically spilling over the top.

“Y/N!” Changbin sing-songed from the living room. “Are you ready?”

“Give me a second,” you called out, huffing under your breath at the absurdity of the circumstances. “This ‘gift’ of yours isn’t very practical,” you continued once you left the bedroom and made the short walk to the living room where Changbin was waiting.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Changbin said, and his eyes were already glossed over as they remained glued to your form.

“Hey! It doesn’t even fit right,” you complained, but you could tell the comment wasn’t even registering in Changbin’s lust--addled brain as he looked you over with a dark, studious gaze.

“You’re gorgeous,” Changbin eventually remarked, pulling you closer in spite of your protests.

You found yourself standing in between his thighs, trying not to shiver at the touch of his hands on your waist even though the fire was burning right behind you. “It doesn’t cover much,” you said, resisting the urge to wrap your arms around your torso.

“Exactly,” Changbin exhaled, and you rolled your eyes at the little things that impressed him. “Your tits look amazing.”

“Changbin!” you whined again, but this time he laughed and encouraged you to straddle his lap. “Is this really a gift for me?”

“Of course!” Changbin insisted, even as he maintained the appearance of someone who had just won the lottery, running his hands across your ass and up your waist to cup your breasts. “Come here,” he whispered, urging you to connect your lips with his in a heated kiss that betrayed the extent of the damage that your little show had done to Changbin’s arousal.

“You’re hard,” you said against the taste of him, rolling your hips against his own just to feel the friction of his clothed erection against your clit.

“Can’t help it,” Changbin said, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair with a growl, pulling you lower so that he could speak directly into your ear. “Bend over the couch for me.”

You whimpered at the request, but you forced your legs to work in an effort to lift yourself from Changbin’s lap. It was hard to focus, feeling more and more wetness gather between your legs at his intense stare following you while you positioned yourself for him. “Like this?” you asked in a hushed tone, resting your hips against the arm of the couch and spreading your legs even further apart.

“Yeah,” Changbin agreed, and you could feel yourself growing excited when you heard his footsteps nearing you, hands rough as they gripped your hips in a vice-like hold. “Such a good girl for me.”

You nodded your head - it was the only thing you could do when Changbin was in this kind of mood. Because his desire for you promised all sorts of erotic temptations, and you could barely contain yourself when he started to roll your panties down your legs, fingertips following a sensual trail that left goosebumps in their wake. His actions were sultry and smooth, but there was a degree of hurried anticipation that had you swallowing hard when two of his fingers found their way inside of your already dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” Changbin cursed, and you could only agree while cherishing the glide of his fingers against the walls of your pussy, stretching you out for him in just the way you liked. Because it made you feel full and desperate, and you were rolling your hips back against his shallow penetrations, allowing you to do most of the work while he no doubt watched from above with the same dark eyes that had reduced you to a moaning mess.

“Changbin,” you managed around a groan. “Please fuck me.”

“Can I?” Changbin asked, but you knew the question was meant to tease you - a test to see just how fast you could thrust back on his fingers, crying out when he curled them just right to brush against your sweet spot. “Are you ready for my cock?”

“Yes!” you sobbed, and Changbin was generous enough to have mercy on you in this pathetic state, pushing down his sweatpants just enough to free his erection, rubbing the tip against your entrance.

“I’m gonna ruin this pussy,” Changbin promised with a rough growl that was followed by the sudden slam of his cock deep inside, and he didn’t bother to wait for you to adjust to his generous girth, pulling back out before settling into a powerful and non-relenting pace that had you already seeing stars.

It was sudden, but generous, and you couldn’t help but think that his cock was made for you, stretching your tender pussy so well, accommodating his length and girth as your walls hugged his erection in a desperate attempt to keep him inside forever. Because it was where he belonged, and you were certain that there was no better situation than the one you found yourself in - splitting in half around Changbin’s cock as he pummeled his hips against your own, bruising your delicate waist and ass with his overzealous touches.

“We’re definitely keeping this set,” Changbin said, ignoring your whimper of pain when he snapped the band of your panties into place, toying with the lace around the edges.

“Changbin,” you said. “I’m close.”

“Me too, baby,” Changbin said, but it was hard to tell since he hadn’t let up once in his brutal thrusts - like he was determined to reach as far as possible, touching places that he had never felt before, stuffing your pussy full of his cock while grunting with the effort of his movements.

It was all a masterful trap to reduce you to nothing but tears, and you soon found yourself teetering on the precipice, sensing your orgasm just out of reach, until Changbin maneuvered his hand down between the couch where you both remained connected, flicking his thumb across your clit in a series of measured strokes that lit the flame of arousal threatening to burn you alive from the inside.

You cried out when your orgasm hit, reaching out to support yourself against the cushions while Changbin continued to chase his own high, stimulating you just right while you rode out the waves of pleasure before crashing against the shore - feeling utterly exhausted while he started to move you on his own, and there was a renewed strength as he moved you up and down his cock, faster and faster until you thought you might cum again from the effort.

But then Changbin’s hips stuttered against yours, and you could feel the evidence of his release as it warmed your insides. “Y/N,” Changbin gasped, and you took some personal triumph in the fact that he sounded out of breath, even after visiting the gym that morning.

“Binnie,” you said with a mischievous smirk, collecting your breath and thoughts while he recovered from behind you. “Are there anymore lingerie sets under our tree?”

You knew it was a dangerous question, capable of setting him off once more, but Changbin merely collected you against his chest with a strong arm around your waist, lips brushing against the side of your neck. “Baby, I can promise you that you won’t be able to walk if I have one more go at this pussy.”

You moaned when his hand reached down to cup your heat over the very thin fabric of your new panties, sending you a very obvious message because Changbin never broke his promises. “Should we call it an early night?” you asked, turning around his arms to connect your lips. “The faster we go to sleep, the sooner it’ll be Christmas.”

“Shower and bed?” Changbin asked, holding you close while brushing his fingers through your hair.

“Just your average Christmas Eve,” you said, and you could feel his smirk against your lips as he kissed you with the remnants of the passion from your earlier coupling, solidifying the fact that your first Christmas with Changbin was, indeed, nothing short of memorable.

#changbin fanfic #changbin smut #skz changbin smut #skz fanfic #skz smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x y/n #changbin x y/n #changbin x reader #stray kids x reader #changbin imagines #changbin oneshot #changbin scenarios #skz changbin imagines #mostlycompetent

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got-any-references · 3 years

Note

What are your fav beetlebabes headcanons? Also, love your stuff <3

Thank you <3. And thank you for the wait cause oh boy if I don’t answer this ask with a ridiculous amount of art how will I live?

*Digging out the dust covered manuscript that is my nonexistent Beetlebabes fic from under the floorboards* It’s showtime.

So...Lydia is the one who falls first. She is about 17 or 18 at the time, so this is very much an “I have a teen crush on someone I am not supposed to” type of deal. Honestly they fell in love with each other way before that but like, platonically

Beej is...horribly oblivious XD. Honestly its for the best because Lydia spends the better part of her pre-college summer freaking about because any time her best friend walks in the door her heart wants to go bull-riding in her chest and if she actually has to confront her feelings she might just explode.

Then, just before Lydia was supposed to go away to college, Beetlejuice...disappears. He leaves a note, saying he’ll be back, but weeks turn into months, months turn into a year, and no one either in the living world or the netherworld has seen a hair of him. Lydia goes through college without really knowing what to do with herself, missing what was probably the closest person in her life. She graduates with a journalism degree and a minor in photography. She works for a newspaper as an investigative journalist before breaking off over less than great circumstances and going off on her own.

She’s 25 when she establishes herself as a pivate eye, with an enormous amount of anonymous sources being dead people. Also, this takes place in New York City.

(Yes she absolutely does exorcisms on the side).

She’s following a rather stange missing persons case when one of her sources points to a run down establishment that is 100% totally haunted. Except when she goes there she doesn’t find any ghosts, but rather

Beetlejuice. And he looks awful. And very much human.

Lydia: You look like hell.

Beej: Yeah, I just got back.

...

Beej: Also I’ma pass out now so you better catch me.

So he crashes at Lydia’s place, and the whole thing turns into solving the crime as well as Beej’s mysterious aquirement of a beating heart and working lungs. He doesn’t remember how that’s happened, only now everything is Too Much with Too Many Feelings. Speaking of feelings, you bet your ass there is PINING. SO much pining. Lydia’s best friend comes back and suddenly those feelings she’d dismissed as a stupid teenage crush come FLOODING BACK.

While Lydia’s internally feaking out over her feelings (it's totally normal and platonic to wanna kiss your best friend while he sleeps, right??), Beetlejuice is, you guessed it, totally oblivious! To his own feelings especially! All he knows is that it's his best friend only now she seems like a completely different person, and hot. She is now hot. His mad respect for Lydia makes him bury that thought deep, deep down. Also the whole marriage deal is a source on bad memories for both of them and he doesn’t wanna ruin the only good thing he’s ever had and-

Anyway, more pining:

Lydia’s feelings bring out resentment, too. She hates that Beej calls her kid, because that means he still sees her as one, and her ego and her desire for him make her want him to see her, the woman who's seen some real shit in the name of finding the truth, who can take care of herself, and who is very different from that angsty 15 year old girl on the roof.

It all comes ahead to a big confrontation where Lydia is shot, and Beetlejuice has to drag her to the hospital without any knowledge of how human bodies work and he has no magic so he can’t help her-

The hospital needs to know his relationship to her when they take her away, and Beetlejuice knows they wont let him in unless he’s close family so he is blurts out: “Husband. Yeah, I’m her...husband.”

Lydia wakes up with a patched up hole in her side and Beetlejuice clinging to her hand. She’s happy she’s alive, but also angry, because she could have avoided all of this. She was competent enough to not need anyone to rescue her.

She wants to get back on the case as soon as possible, she found the key lead, but Beej doesn’t wanna hear it, cause he saw way too much of her blood and he’s not big on how human bodies work, but he's pretty sure that shit’s supposed to stay inside. They’re arguing when the nurse comes in and adresses him as “Mr. Deetz.”

Lydia snatches the clipboard away, sees that he’s told them she’s his wife, and is livid. Because crush or not the wedding thing had a whole lot of baggage she does not want to unpack. She has to confront the fact that her feelings are for someone who manipulated her into marriage at 15 and who she’s not supposed to see in that way but she does anyway.

And Beej, a dumbass but also angry cause she almost died out of a stupid reckless mistake is like: "Why are you all mad? It was a green card thing. It's not like it means anything." And that gets Lyds even more upset, with him cause he's an idiot, and with herself because she's still pining for someone who, she thinks, still sees her as a child.

Lyds, getting her coat: "Fuck off."

BJ: "Kid-"

Lydia: "Stop calling me that! I haven't been a child since my mother died. I haven't been a child since you showed up! I haven't been a child since I've started this, since I moved here, since the first asshole tried to kill me. I've been through literal hell and I've had to pull myself out of it all on my own because I was still here and you left."

There's a beat of silence as Lydia realizes what she just said.

Lydia: "And that's fine. Because I don't need you. I don't need anyone. You taught me that, at least." She yanks her coat onto her shoulders and turns to go.

BJ, quietly, but its clear he's angry: "Do you think I wanted to leave?"

Lydia: "I don't know what you wanted. Do you even know what you wanted?" She pauses at the door, turns to him. "Do you know what you want, Betelgeuse?"

BJ: "I-"

He stops. He can't look her in the eye anymore. You. I want you. Lydia scoffs, turns to go.

BJ: "Lydia, wait-"

Lydia: "Fuck. Off."

She leaves, and he just stands there, floored by his too little too late realization. Lydia thinks the best thing to do after leaving the hospital with a bullet hole in her side and hopped up on painkillers is to go get drunk! Self-preservation? None

Beetlejuice finally finds her drunk off her ass and suddenly in a great mood. He grabs her under the arms like "Whelp. Time to go."

Lydia: "Nooo come on-"

BJ: "Aren't you on hospital drugs? Doesn't that shit kill you breathers if you mix it all up?"

Lydia: ":D I stopped taking them :'D it hurts like a bitch."

BJ: "I guess I have the shared braincell now. Okay, time to go."

He manages to get her in the car without incident, but when he gets in the driver's seat suddenly Lydia's all over him.

BJ, with a lap full of drunk Lydia: "What. What are you doing."

Lydia: "Beeetlejuice."

BJ: "Yeees?"

Lydia, smiling all dopey as she cups his cheeks: "Beeetlejuuuice."

BJ: "What"

Lydia's finger hovers over his nose, as if to boop him. He closes his eyes. And suddenly her lips are on his. She tastes like alcohol and hospital food and as she pulls away he can't think. Then she starts laughing. "Ha! Gotchaaa! Classic Bait and Switch!"

And he’s pissed.

BJ: "Ha. Ha. Good one, Lyds."

He dumps her out of his lap and into the passenger seat. Lydia blinks in confusion. Now she's cold. She wants to ask, but her mental faculties aren't all with her at the moment. He drives them home and helps her up the stairs before dumping her onto her bed. "Well. Bye." Lydia scrambles up the bed. The car ride gave her enough time to be at least a bit sober, and everything before getting here is blurry. "Where are you going?" Beetlejuice turns around, the widest smile on his face. She's confused for a moment before she realizes he's vibrating with rage. "Ya said you want me gone? Great! You don't need me, you can do your weird little suicidal quest thing yourself!" Lydia looks lost. They had a fight but she'd rarely seen him this angry. "If its about the thing at the hospital, I didn't- I didn't mean it-"

Beetlejuice: "Really? You'd think you'd be glad to have me gone. Why would you want a creep like me around? The whole marriage thing didn't just disappear, after all! Great to know you can still pull one on me, huh?"

Lydia: "Pull what, Beetlejuice-"

She remembers, hazily, the car ride.

They stare at each other for a moment Beej is breathing heavily, he's not used to living person emotions, ones you can feel with your whole body instead of just as an abstract thing, but its clear he's holding back

Lydia: "I wasn't-"

Beej: "You weren't what?"

Lydia (quietly): "It wasn't a joke."

The angry grin slips off Beej's face. He suddenly looks very, very tired. She might have believed just now that he'd lived for millennia.

Beej: “Why are you doin' this, Lyds? Did you know the whole damn time? It's not like I was gonna do anything, I just thought- I just-”

Lydia suddenly realizes that they are having two different conversations. And something else. She looks away, trying to wrap her head around it, and Beetlejuice doesn't read it correctly. He turns to go.

Lydia: “Wait!”

She jumps off the bed, feeling the whole world tip over slightly, still drunk, and stumbled over to him. He catches her instinctively as she grips his forearms for support.

Lydia: “Beej. Beej, look at me.”

She takes his face in her hands, and turns it toward her. He looks so lost, like one word from her might actually break him. She'd only seen that look on his face once before, and she never wants to again.

Lydia takes a breath.

Lydia: “Beetlejuice, I-”

Aaand then she throws up all over his shoes.

She doesn't quite remember what happened next, only that she was in the bathroom, leaning against the door, the toilet was flushed, she was sweating, and he wasn't there.

Lydia: “Beej?”

Beetlejuice (through the door): “...hi”

Lydia: “What-”

BJ: “-happened? Well, that's a story!”

His voice sounds cheerful, but it’s shaking slightly

BJ: “First ya threw up all over us both! then that little experiment of yours with mixing the meds went off, and you started babbling about...rocks? Then we got here, you heaved out the rest of your insides, and then ya kicked me out and said you were gonna shower, and now we're sitting here, so, yeah”

Lydia: “...Are you still covered in puke?”

BJ:”...yeah”

Lydia: “...sorry?”

BJ: “Pshh, what's a best friend if ya can't throw up on 'im a couple times.”

They both fall silent

Beetlejuice (quietly): “Lyds, do ya still want me here?”

...

Lydia takes the time to find the words. Want him here? After everything, he was still asking that question. Did he still think, after all this time, that she'd throw him out at the smallest inconvenience? Would he ever stop thinking that way? Why did he think so now? Was it because he- Because he-

Lydia: “I love you.”

The other side of the door is silent.

Lydia: “I love your stupid laugh. You sound like a fucking cartoon villain, its so fucking obnoxious. I love your jokes, all of them, even the shitty ones- you always look so god damn proud when you say them.”

Is she crying? She tries to wipe at her face, but the tears keep coming.

Lydia: “I loved you since that last day on the roof, and when you left-”

Her throat closes up. She chokes back on her tears, she has to finish it, he has to hear it.

Lydia: “When you left I thought I might die again.”

Lydia: “I kept seeing things, dumb branding on cereal boxes, that shitty college play I went to, my first client, and I kept thinking aw, Beej would have a field day with this one. I thought about what you'd say. You were like a voice I couldn't scrape out of my head, I thought I was going crazy, I thought I'd imagined it all, some lonely little girl with no life or friends, needing someone to talk to- But you'd been real, and then you were just gone- “

The words dissolve in her throat as she sobs, pulling her knees up to her chest. She feels like a child now. She feels more childlike than she had at 15. She’s clinging to a scrap of hope she doesn’t have a right to demand from him. And yet he'd said-

Lydia: “I love you. Please, don't leave.”

They sit is silence for a while. Lydia tries to stop crying. Then, quietly from the other side of the door:

BJ: “You know what I thought when I first saw you?”

Lydia: “Here’s a suicidal teen haha what a riot?”

BJ: “What? No, not then. Like now.”

Lydia: “Oh. What?”

BJ: “I thought wow, who the hell is that and why is she so dang hot?”

Lydia laughs.

BJ: “And then I thought oh God that’s Lydia.”

Something in his voice makes her pause. Maybe it’s the strange fear that she feels coming from him.

BJ: “It’s like, you’re Lydia, and I don’t know shit about you! You’re the same person, but you’re a stranger to me. Lyds, do you know how fucking terrifying that is? You’re someone I never got to know because of a shitty decision I don’t even remember making.”

he falls silent. She can hear the pain in his voice. And something else. Longing.

Beetlejuice: “I’d like to.”

Lydia opens the door. Beetlejuice scrables up, only for her to throw her arms around him.

They figure it out. It’s a slowburn 200k fic that I’ll never write so it takes a while for them to actually kiss, or do anything more, but they get there.

This turned out...ridiculously long XD. I don’t know what you meant by “headcanons”, exactly, but have this instead.

Thanks for the ask!

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arch-venus25 · 3 years

Text

The Head and the Heart, Part 1

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go...

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2770

Part One: Faced with Foolishness

“Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.

“Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.

“So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.

“Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”

“And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.

“Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.

“I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.

“Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.

Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.

She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.

“Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.

Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.

Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.

Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.

She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.

Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.

Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.

“Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.

“Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.

Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.

“If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.

“But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.

“You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”

Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.

Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.

For better or worse, they were sisters.

Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.

“Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.

“Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.

“John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.

She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.

This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.

Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.

“Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”

“Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.

“Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.

Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.

Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.

Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.

Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.

“Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.

“So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”

“Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.

Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.

“Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.

“How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.

“Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.

“Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you! I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn

#landlord vampire fic frenzy #twinning vs vamps #arch-venus25 writes

27 notes · View notes

honeypwark · 4 years

Text

[ Adoption ]

↳ Like OOH-AHH era

↳ Lily is forgotten at a music show. Seventeen adopts her. She's "saved" by her label mates.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A knock on the dressing room door isn't heard by most of the people behind it, but Vernon was sitting near it on his phone as a group of his members goofed off loudly across the room. He stands and opens the door.

"Yes...?"

He trails off, confused as he finds no one outside the door.

"Hi, down here."

Vernon looks down, "Oh, hello."

Lily stands in front of him, giving him a little wave as he sees her, "Hi, I'm short, sorry. Um, is Joshua here?"

"Uh..."

"Oh, sorry," she holds a hand out to him, "Hi, I'm Lily. From Twice? I'm not a fan or something."

He shakes her hand, "Right. Sorry, I knew that. Just a second."

Lily waits patiently in the hallway as Vernon looks back into the room.

"Joshua!"

"Yes!"

"Lily wants to see you!"

"Lily Lee!"

Very quickly after that, Joshua pushes past Vernon and scoops Lily up into a hug.

"Woah-kay. Heya."

He sets her back on her feet and they talk to one another in English, "What d'ya need, kiddo?"

"Can I use your phone?"

"Yeah," he says, "Why?"

"I kind of got left behind."

"...Seriously?"

"No, I purposely hid from my members and managers and let them leave without me. Yes, seriously."

"Okay, attitude."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, this means you can stay with me while you wait."

"Woah, is that Jihyo calling me-?"

Joshua rolls his eyes and grabs her arm as she pretends to walk away, "You're not going to wander the building until someone comes to get you. Come on."

Joshua pulls Lily into the dressing room, gaining the attention of the boys inside.

"Everyone, this is Lily, her members don't love her enough so she's ours now."

"That's not-"

"Oh, you're the Lily everyone's been talking about," a boy says.

"I wouldn't say everyone-"

"Half of the people I know would die for you," another boy deadpans.

"Okay, then."

"Come sit down!"

Joshua pulls Lily to sit down between himself and another boy. The boy on Joshua's other side covers his face to stifle his laughter. All the other members seem to be having a tough time covering up their laughter as well.

"What? Did I do something?" Lily asks.

"Technically, no."

She turns to Joshua, "What does technically mean?"

Joshua translates into English for her.

"Ah," Lily nods her head in understanding.

One of the boys melts into his seat from the cuteness of her action.

"Oh my god, can we keep her?" another asks.

"I told you, she's ours now. We're adopting her."

"Josh, no. And I still need to use your phone."

"Oh, right."

Joshua stands to grab it from where it's charging across the room. Lily sees several of the boys still trying to stifle their laughter as it's quiet for a moment.

"Seriously, why are you all laughing?"

They all look around at each other and the boy to her left shakes his head. When Lily looks at him, he stops suddenly and looks away from her.

The boy who had collapsed in giggles a minute ago speaks up, "I'm gonna say it: Chan loves you."

The boy to her left hides his face in his hands.

"He made us all vote for you during the last episode of Sixteen," another boy says.

"Hyung!" the boy to her left shouts in objection.

She looks over at him and he looks down at her. His already slightly pink cheeks turn a brighter shade of red and he hides his face in the shoulder of the boy beside him.

She points at him, "That's Chan?"

"Yep."

"Mingyu, have you seen a little girl wandering around?" BamBam asks as he walks into the room unannounced. "She has black hair, brown eyes... that's not helpful at all... She's really short- wait, no, everyone's short to you, um..."

"Hi, BamBam," Lily says, sending him a little wave.

"Lily!"

"Bam?"

Lily is tackled into the back of the couch as BamBam hugs her.

He pulls back and looks her over, "Where were you? Everyone's looking for you! Well, me and my members, but still. We were all worried you wandered off and were lured into someone's van because they offered you candy."

"Bam. I'm thirteen, not three."

"I know, but we were worried. Why weren't you with your group?"

"I got lost when I was walking back from the bathroom but when I got to the dressing room, everyone was gone. Jihyo has my phone because I always forget it random places. Then I remembered Joshua was here today with Seventeen so I was trying to use his phone but now he wants to adopt me."

"I am going to adopt you!" Joshua yells.

"No!"

BamBam laughs, relieved she's safe, "Well, Jihyo texted Jaebum and Chaeyoung texted me and your manager texted my manager and basically all of GOT7 and our staff is looking for you. Your manager asked for us to bring you to our dressing room until she gets back here."

"You're leaving already?" a boy asks.

"Blame Josh for trying to force his fatherhood on me."

"Josh, this is your fault!"

"If I adopt her she can't leave!"

"I feel threatened."

BamBam laughs, "Come on, I'll tell everyone I found you."

"Okay," she says, following him to the door. "Bye, everyone, it was nice meeting you."

She gets a chorus of goodbyes in return and BamBam leads her to GOT7's dressing room, texting his members and manager that he's found her.

Jinyoung, who had stayed behind in the dressing room in case she found her way there, looks up as they enter, "Lily!"

"Hi."

He hugs her, "You're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure all of Seventeen adopted me, though."

"Sounds like a good time."

"Not entirely, Josh is scary sometimes."

The members of GOT7 make their way back to their dressing room and have varying degrees of dramatics upon seeing Lily (with Jackson winning all nonexistent awards for being overdramatic). She eventually settles in to sitting between Jackson and Mark and playing a game on Jackson's phone as she waits.

Eventually, her manager, Jihyo, and Jeongyeon arrive to pick her up. Jeongyeon rushes over to her first, hugging her tightly and checking her over.

"Are you okay? Did anything happen to you?" she asks, fussing over her and tucking her hair behind her ears.

"I'm okay, unnie. Nothing happened."

"Except that Seventeen adopted her," Jinyoung says.

"They can't do that, she was ours first," Jeongyeon protests immediately.

Jihyo steps up to her and cups her face, intently looking at her silently.

"Unnie, I'm okay."

Jihyo makes a face and looks at Jackson, "Is she okay?"

"As far as I can tell, Seventeen didn't traumatize her."

Jihyo nods but still looks anxious.

"Unnie, it's not your fault."

"I should have paid more attention. Your mom told me to look after you and not even a month into debuting, I leave you behind."

"Don't be so dramatic," Lily teases lightly, reaching up to poke Jihyo's cheek. "I'm perfectly fine; forty minutes in the care of GOT7 isn't going to kill me."

"Give it an hour," Jaebum speaks up.

Jihyo laughs softly and takes a breath, "Yeah, you're right.

"Of course, I am. I'm in middle school."

Jihyo laughs, louder this time, and tosses an arm around Lily's shoulders, "Alright, let's go home. You must be tired."

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star-whores-a-new-hoe · 4 years

Text

One Shot: Snow Day//Obi Wan X Dancer! Reader

Summary: You have a delightful snow day in the ballet studio with Obi Wan. (Modern! AU)

A/N: No One fucking asked for this! So some of y’all may know that I’m a ballet dancer and I just really wanted to combine that with my writing even if like no one is gonna read it. This is based on a snow day I had in my studio and no one was there, it was amazing! Also this was super fucking hard to write with out using proper ballet terms, I did my best! The choreography at the end is from the ballet Sleeping Beauty and I will link a video so you guys have a visual reference for whats going on, it starts at about 4:42. Hope y’all like this!

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: None!

The snow flurried down from the early morning sky and gently kissed the window panes of the studio. You watched it with awe as you finished stretching on the barre. With your leg propped up on top of the metal pole, you stretched your arm over your head, reaching for your pointed toes. You felt your quads ache with the stretch, as if they were waking themselves up in anticipation for dancing. You allowed your music to flow around you, drowning out your body’s complaints to the stretch. A splendid playlist of Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky, and Adam filled the empty brick room.

You had been unable to believe your luck when you arrived at the snow covered studio that morning. The only other occupant was the receptionist, who had informed you that you had the space completely to yourself. Wasting no time, you had rushed over to the practice room, intending to make the most of your snow day.

As you removed your leg from the barre, you stretched your arms above your head, attempting to relive some of the remaining tension. You walked over to the corner of the room where your dance bag lay and plopped yourself down on the hard Marley floor. You reached into the bag and pulled out your pointe shoes, along with the supplies you needed to prepare your feet for their torture. After putting them on, you rose to your feet and attempted to fully stand on the shoe, letting your feet grow accustomed to the sensation of extreme weight on your toes.

Finally, the time had arrived for your favorite part of any dance practice, the actual dancing. You scurried out into the middle of the floor as waltz of the flowers played. You had no specific choreography in mind, you simply intended to let the music lead your movements. As the melody moved, so did you, swaying and turning, balancing and leaping. With precise, graceful movements you danced across the floor, simply letting muscle memory take control. From an outsider's perspective, your actions would look flowy and light, but as any dancer can tell you it takes an abundance of control to uphold that appearance. Each of your muscles, from the tips of your fingers all the way down to your toes, engaged themselves in your dance. With spine elongated and core engaged, you twirled around the room in quick little movements, keeping your eye on a picture on the wall to help keep you in straight line.

As you spun around, you noticed someone out of the corner of your eye coming through the doorway. You ceased your spinning and glanced down at your hands, a nice trick to quickly stop dizziness. You looked up at the doorway again and smiled when you saw your loving boyfriend.

“By all means, don't stop on my account.” You smiled at Obi Wan with pure adoration in your eyes. He held two coffees in his hands.

“How did you know I’d be here?” You asked, moving forward to take one of the coffees.

“I simply asked myself where you would go with free time on a snow day, and the studio came to mind.” You wrapped your arms around his middle, careful of the drinks.

“You know me so well.” You said into the fabric on his soft sweater.

You felt him place a tender kiss to the top of your head, the gentle brush of his lips against your forehead contrasted with the harsh winter landscape outside the studio. “That I do darling.” You pulled back and took a sip of your drink, staring out at the snowy street below as you did. You marveled at the way the snow seemed to make everything inside the studio brighter.

“How long have I been here?” You asked, unsure of the time. It does seem to slip away as one dances.

“About an hour and a half I believe.”

“Goodness, I completely lost track of time.”

“Well darling, with weather like this I doubt you have anywhere else you need to be.” You went to place your coffee down next to your bag.

“While I have you here, I want to try something.” Obi Wan raised an eyebrow at you questioningly, waiting for you to continue.

You absentmindedly pointed your toes one at a time, extending you sure to be bruised toes. “Are you familiar with the rose adage?”

“I don’t believe so.” He said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Well, it's a scene from the ballet sleeping beauty. It’s super famous, the dancer playing the sleeping beauty has to balance in an attitude as four different dancers turn her. It's really hard.”

Obi Wan gave you a knowing smile. “And you want to try it?”

You nodded. “And I want to try it.”

He placed his coffee down on the floor. “And what exactly is an attitude?”

“It's like an arabesque.” You could tell your words held no recognition in them for Obi Wan.

“So and arabesque is like this.” You said. Standing on the tip of your pointe shoe, you raised one leg behind you to about 90 degrees high, perfectly straight and pointed. Raising your arms above your head, you did your best to keep all your muscles engaged. Your quad and lower back screamed with the effort. “And this is an attitude.” You slightly bent the knee of your raised leg.

“And what do you need me to do darling?” You always felt butterflies erupt in you when he called you darling.

You came back down to the floor and let your body relax “I need you to hold my hand and slowly walk in a circle, we’re gonna do it four times. When I tell you, I’ll let go for a moment and balance on my own before the next turn. Ready?”

He walked towards you and offered you his hand. “Always.” Once again, you raised yourself up onto the tip of your pointe shoe and extended your slightly bent leg.

“Ok, you can walk now.” So with your hand atop his, Obi Wan slowly walked around you in a circle, watching closely as you gently turned on the tip of your shoe. When he reached his original spot, you did your best to center yourself before taking your hand off of his. As you balanced for a moment, you noticed that the snow illuminated Obi Wan’s face in a bright light, the same way it had the room, highlighting all his features and making his beautiful blue eyes stand out.

You placed your hand back in his, and he walked around you again. “I suppose, if you are dancing the role of sleeping beauty, then that makes you my princess.”

You snorted and almost lost your balance. “Oh man, that was horrible.” Removing your hand from his again, you balanced on your own. You could feel your legs begin to shake with the effort it took to keep them active.

Obi Wan looked slightly offended. “I thought that was pretty good.” You took his hand again and he slowly spun you.

“Not your best.” You balanced again, feeling like you would collapse any moment. “Last one,” You muttered more to yourself than to Obi. The two of you repeated your steps again, and on the last balance you stretched out your arms and smiled to a nonexistent audience before bringing both feet down to the ground and finishing with a quick double peroiet.

You let out a deep breath that you didn't even realize you had been holding in. Turning, you wrapped your arms around Obi again. You could barely suppress the grin that spread across your face.

“We just completed one of the most iconic scenes in ballet!”

He chuckled at you. “I hope you know that you are completely drenched in sweat.” You pulled back from him and gave him a pout.

“Way to ruin the moment.” You flashed him a quick smirk to show that you really weren't that upset before you ran over to your dance bag. Once again, you sat yourself down and removed your pointe shoes, relief flooding over your sore feet as soon as you took them off. You flexed them a few times to expel the ache before slipping on your regular shoes. “I really should do a cool down but I just want to go home and shower.”

Obi Wan picked up your bag and coffee before helping you up.

“Whatever you desire darling, it's your snow day.” So hand in hand with your prince, you left the studio and walked out in the snow covered wonderland of the outside.

Tag list: @fangirl-on-bitches @whovianayesha @scarletsoldierrr @million-dollar-legs @thetreandtessa

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wellhellsbelles · 4 years

Note

Hii!! I'm so so glad you're back :3 your fanfics were truly my faves. I've had this idea for a fanfic where riley wants to ask farkle to prom but is too scared to do so, so she makes a deal with him that if no one asks them to prom, they'll go together, and something happens and riley has to confess that she wanted to go w/ him and asks him w/ a poster that says: you, me, prom?

ahhhh thank you so much for enjoying my stuff and thanks for the prompt! i hope you enjoy this little fic :)

“So, are ya gonna do it?”

Maya’s face pops up as soon as Riley’s shut her locker door, eyes sparkling in a puckish sort of way that can only mean trouble. Riley clutches her AP Literature textbook against her chest, a brow raised.

“No.”

Maya groans.

“You promised! You told me that today would be the day! You said, and I quote, “Maya, if I don’t do it on this date, you’re allowed to make me buy you something from my mom’s restaurant for a month.” Look, I even have proof of you holding up the calendar with the big red circle outlining today’s date!”

Riley’s best friend whips out her phone, swiping through pictures until she finds what she’s looking for. She holds it up as if it’s incriminating evidence, but Riley doesn’t much care—well, she does, because that picture she took is downright unflattering and should be deleted immediately.

“Let me see that,” Riley demands, and Maya hands her the phone, clawing at her when she trashes it.

“Hey!”

“No one needs to see that picture, Maya. I’m trying to forget what my haircut looked like at the beginning of the year.” She begins to walk off, trying desperately to ignore Maya’s prodding to no avail.

“Riley Matthews, are you going to chicken out? I thought Matthews don’t quit,” Maya says, grinning when it stops Riley in her tracks. “Ha! I got you there.”

Riley moves to make her rebuttal, but the warning bell rings to alert them that they need to be heading to their next class, so she simply rolls her eyes, waving goodbye to Maya as she heads in the opposite direction.

“We’re tabling this, Matthews! Don’t think I won’t let this slide!” Maya calls out. Riley shakes her head, sighing as the weight of anxiety starts to lift.

Yeah, she’s aware she’s a coward. But she’s not about to do it—there’s being brave, and there’s being absolutely idiotic, and if she did go through with it?

It’d change a lot.

She’ll take the chance of being a coward any day over spilling her guts.

Riley’s never been one to believe in coincidence, so when Farkle swings through her window effortlessly later that day, she can’t help but damn fate a little.

“Alright, you, me, AP Literature. Now,” he says, tossing his bag onto her floor and landing on her bed with a thud. Riley pushes her feelings way down inside her, swallows them until she’s able to pretend they’re nonexistent, and glances up at him.

“Why does it feel like all you ever come to me for anymore is AP Lit stuff?”

Farkle scoffs.

“Please, we had a horror movie marathon last weekend. Plus, I brought a bribe. You do still take bribes, right?” he asks, pulling out a bag of sour gummy worms.

“Your bribe has been accepted. Gimme,” she thrusts her hand out, making a grabbing motion. Farkle laughs giving her the bag. She tries to tear it open with her teeth when she can’t rip it with her hands, whooping triumphantly when it tears.

“Don’t hog those. I want some, too.”

Riley wants to tell him he could bugger off, but she knows that sentiment would be null and void. She’d rather give up an arm than force him out of her space, and if that meant sharing his gift of sour gummy worms, she would.

“Leave the—”

“Blue-red ones, I know,” he finishes cheekily, pulling a couple of yellow-red ones out and plopping them into his mouth.

“So, AP Lit?” she asks. Farkle pulls out his textbook and notebook, settling himself comfortably on the end of her bed.

“Am I allowed to say I don’t love poetry? Because this class makes me not a fan of poetry,” he says, nose curling as he reads a question, “Why aren’t there any good science poems?”

“There are, you just aren’t looking for them,” Riley tells him simply.

“Lies. Name one off the top of your head right now,” Farkle jibes, throwing a gummy worm at her.

“The Old Astronomer by Sarah Williams. ‘I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.’ If I ever did get a tattoo, it’d be with that quote,” she answers, picking the gummy worm off herself and eating it. She looks back at Farkle, who remains . . . unconvinced.

“Pretty quote, still not interested in poetry. I think it’s the form.”

“Okay, what if I told you to look at the scientific method steps like a poem? Because it basically is. BOOM, exploded your mind with hot knowledge!”

“Riley, please. Don’t ruin science for me.”

Riley sticks her tongue out at him, gently kicking him in the thigh with her foot as she settled comfortably into against her pillows. She’s already finished her AP Lit homework, onto her AP Chemistry homework now, but she’s always ready to help Farkle when he needs it. The degree to which she’d drop everything for him, just for him, is downright . . .

Embarrassing.

But she’s learned to take it in stride. There’s something about his presence that always makes her feel a certain sort of way now, but she just reminds herself that this is Farkle, her best friend since she was five, and there’s nothing to be scared of.

Then Maya texts her, and she remembers what it is exactly she’d been fretting.

i know the minkus boy is at ur house!

he just sent me a snap of u

u look like ur having a midlife crisis on ur bed there

better fix that by

i dunno

ASKING HIM THE STUPID QUESTION

Riley shuts her phone off, tossing it to the side to return to her Chemistry textbook.

Chemistry! She’s supposed to be studying for chem, and she will not—it’s absolutely out of the question—say the question that’s in her head.

I thought Matthews’ don’t quit.

Damnit! Maya’s right, Matthews’ don’t quit.

They shouldn’t.

“Farkle?” she calls out to him, ignoring the way he’s mussed his hair in an adorable fashion from being fraught by the poems laid out in front of him.

“Yeah, Riles?”

“So . . .” Just ask it. Ask him, you dummy! “Uh, are you going with anyone to prom?”

“Oh,” he blinks, as if not anticipating the question (he probably wasn’t, come to think of it), “No, not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”

Here goes nothing.

“Youwannagotopromwithme?” Riley blurts all at once, the words rushing out of her mouth like vomit. Farkle stares at her, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times as if he’s trying to gauge if she’s serious or not. In fact, the longer he doesn’t talk, the quicker Riley tries to think of a way to recover from this, because ABORT MISSION ABORT!!!

“You know, if no one else asks you? Or you don’t ask anyone else? We can just go as friends,” she supplies, chuckling nervously. Something flashes across Farkle’s face, something that Riley thinks is akin to disappointment, but as soon as it’s there, it’s gone.

He shrugs.

“Sure, why not?”

Riley sighs with relief.

“Okay, cool. Just let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The night does not return to normal after that. In fact, it’s awkward up until the moment Farkle swoops back out the window with a goodbye and a half-hearted smile. As soon as he vanishes, Riley collapses face-down into her pillow, screaming into it out of pure frustration.

We can just go as friends.

Who is she?! That’s not what she wanted at all, but she chickened out because Maya was freaking right!

But if she had seen the look on his face before she added that . . . Riley made the right decision. She’s sure of it, because if she had been serious?

That’d probably be it, friendship over.

It’s . . . it’s better this way.

She’s certain of it.

. . . Right?

“So?” Maya asks as she arrives beside Riley’s locker the next morning, their usual meet-up. Riley groans, leaning her head inside the locker.

“I asked him and then added just as friends when he didn’t respond right away. So, you know, I kind of asked.”

“Just as friends?!” Maya screeches at her. Riley places her hands on her own head.

“I know! I know. I wasn’t able to go to sleep last night. It was a stupid thing to do anyway, it just made everything a billion times more awkward. Why did I let you talk me into this, Maya?”

“Alright, did he say yes to that, at least?”

Riley nods her head.

“Okay, good. We can work with that. We’ll just have you romance him at prom, no problem.”

“What do you mean ‘no problem’? Yes, problem! I am not doing that, Peaches. I’ve humiliated myself enough for one lifetime. I think I’m going to opt out of prom, maybe bow out of senior year in disgrace or something.”

She hears Maya exhaust a long breath before she’s helping Riley out of her own locker, spinning her around and resting her hands on her shoulders.

“Riley Matthews, you are letting your feelings for a boy get to you too much. Yeah, he’s Farkle, but you’re Riley. You’re magnificent and amazing and if he doesn’t like you back? That’s his loss, because he missed the mark.”

“Thank you, Maya,” Riley smiles softly, hugging her best friend. Maya hugs her back and then releases her, giving her a look that can only mean trouble if Riley knows her well enough (and she does.)

“Okay, you know what? This whole ‘friends’ thing isn’t going to work. I need you to ask him out for real, because I know you’ll hate yourself for it if you don’t. I know it’s a hard thing to do, but you know better than anyone about making hard decisions. So do me a favor and ask him again by the end of this week—properly, mind you—and then the two of you will live freaking happily ever after because if I know Farkle, he’ll be hard pressed to say no. That boy has spent too much of his life in love with you. It’s not any different now.”

Riley allows herself to soak that in.

Is Maya really right? He did love her, but Riley’s not certain that was a real type of love. But then again, Farkle’s never been one to half-ass things. He’s loved her so many ways, so why not love her the way she loves him now?

“I’ll do it,” Riley agrees against her better judgement.

Wednesday passes. She doesn’t ask Farkle to the prom. Thursday passes. She doesn’t ask. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday all whirl by her quickly, but she still hasn’t mustered the courage to ask. Even after the wonderful pep-talk Maya gave her, Riley still couldn’t find it in herself to breach the subject with him because she was just scared.

Liking Farkle really scared her, and she didn’t like that at all. Because scaring her meant that these feelings were more than just a passing phase, that she was bound to be stuck in this limbo of he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not for the rest of forever until she broke it.

So Sunday night she plans to ask him Monday at the end of school, even gets Maya in on it so that she can’t back out again.

She can’t back out this time; she won’t do it.

When Monday rolls around, Riley thanks whoever is out there that, while they share classes, she and Farkle don’t share the same class periods. It’s what’s helped her endure her second semester of senior year; while she appreciates having him there, she’s not sure she wouldn’t waste her class time glancing at him across the room.

Her last class period of the day moves both fast and at a snail’s pace, so when the bell rings it surprises her so much that she takes her several minutes to gather her things. Riley’s never been more off her game in her entire life, but then again, she’s never had to actually ask Farkle to prom for real before.

(Well, she’s never had to ask Farkle out period. That was always his game, not hers. Too bad she can’t get pointers from him.)

Riley heads out to meet Maya at her locker, passing by the stragglers who haven’t made it out yet, but something catches her eye instead.

It’s Farkle, at his own locker, with a girl who has people standing with her, holding several letters decorated with fake flowers spelling out PROM.

Riley’s too late.

PEACHES

where were u???

i stayed at ur locker

like we planned

i even asked farkle if he saw u

he said he didn’t

so something happened

pls tell me ur okay ☹

Riley doesn’t bother texting Maya despite knowing she owes her best friend an explanation. She’s too busy wallowing in self-pity and the humiliation of rejection to deal with anyone right now.

She should’ve been quicker. She shouldn’t have been a chicken about it and just told him about her dumb, stupid feelings and gotten it over with. Anything at this point would be preferable to the sting Riley feels in her chest when she thinks about how she missed out on not just being Farkle’s date to prom but experiencing prom with him. It’s not the same without him by her side.

So no prom for Riley Matthews. She cashed in on her one chance at going Junior year, and as far as Riley was concerned, this probably meant her chance with Farkle, too.

But fate is not as kind to her, because Farkle climbs through her window, landing on the cushions of the bay window bench with a soft thud.

“What the heck,” he says, breathing out a sigh of relief when he’s spotted her, “Maya and I thought you died in a ditch! What were you thinking?”

Riley has no response for that. In fact, she’s pretty certain her brain’s shut off entirely for the foreseeable future, because in no way had she planned on encountering Farkle for as long as she could hold it off.

It’s now or never, Matthews, a voice that sounds vaguely like Maya whispers in her mind. Riley exhales.

Right.

“Are you going to prom with that girl?” she asks instead, eyes set with determination. Farkle stares at her, bewildered.

“What?! Your response to Maya and I worrying about your safety is some trivial question about prom?”

“It’s not trivial to me!” Riley exclaims, the burn of embarrassment bubbling up out of her. The intensity of her words must cross Farkle’s radar, because his eyes are widening.

“Riley? What’s going on?”

She makes a decision then, unable to fight with these godforsaken feelings any longer. She tosses the poster she’d worked painstakingly on for hours onto the bed, gesturing to it brazenly.

“I was going to ask you to prom for real today. I know I made a joke of it the other night, but I really meant it. I wanted to go to prom with you because I like you, Farkle. I’m tired of ignoring my feelings and pushing them away because I think it might benefit you. These feelings I have are real and they’re not going away any time soon, okay?”

Farkle’s eyes shift over to the poster, eyes tracing the words over and over again, as if it’s taking him a while to register it.

You. Me. Prom. Let’s do this thing?

It was hard for Riley to come up with a way to ask him that was both clever and meaningful, and she chose something that was between them and only them. He had once told her, “You. Me. Mars. Let’s do this thing.” It was always something that hardly meant anything to her back then but means the world to her now, or at least, it did before she realized she’d been too late.

“So?” Farkle asks, voice rough as if his throat had run dry. Riley tilts her head.

“What?”

“Are you going to ask me properly or not? We’re losing daylight here, Matthews,” Farkle says, arms crossed against his chest. Riley scoffs, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t quite get why he’s trying to be cruel to her at this point, but whatever.

“Farkle Minkus, I wanted to know. You. Me. Prom. Let’s do this thing?”

“Yes,” comes his answer, flowing off his tongue as if it’s the easiest thing he’s ever said in his life. Riley nearly jumps out of her seat but recovers at the last second.

“Yes?”

“Riley Matthews, yes, of course I’ll go to prom with you.”

“But—”

“No, I didn’t say yes to that other girl because I had already told you that we could go together. Sure I was kind of disappointed when you said it was as friends, but . . . you’re my best friend. It doesn’t matter what capacity our relationship is, I just want to be with you.”

Riley doesn’t get it.

“Wait, so what you’re saying is—”

“Riley Matthews, I’ve loved you since the first grade. I don’t think I ever stopped, really. So yes, I’ll go to prom with you as your date, because I’m so in love with you it isn’t funny,” Farkle tells her, giving her a gentle, lopsided grin. Riley scrambles off her bed the same time he rises from the bay window bench, the two of them embracing harder than she ever has in her entire life.

“I’m sorry I freaked out on you,” she admits into the crook of his neck. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“It’s okay. You’re the same Riley you’ve always been, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#riarkle #ask #riarkle fanfic #riarkle fanfiction #riley x farkle #farkle x riley #i should not have stayed up this late to finish this #but i was determined

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ofieugogyshz · 3 years

Note

🖊️🖊️ one for your husband and one for any of your kids!!

okay so the original meme is buried somewhere in my blog, but i very distinctly recall this one being something to do with favorite f/o quotes and talking/gushing about them?

even if it wasn’t that latter part, that’s what i’m doing, because i’ve had it on my mind for the last several times (”times for what?” shut up, language is all made up, i can unmake it if i damn well please.)

Unfortunately I won’t be able to answer for any of my kids, because I can’t think of anything of theirs that sticks out to me, after all this time this has been in my inbox. More importantly, this is already going to be a long post; I’m not about to make it longer.

Lance: "I never give up, no matter what. You must be the same?"

so.

This quote.... hits. A lot. Like, OHKO level. Handful of reasons for that but namely it all shifts down to timing.

(Head’s up, this is gonna be some heavy stuff, including depression, life frustrations, and parental death mention.)

The year is some fuckass year like 2011 or 2012, maybe even 2013. I’m pretty sure it was still the year that BW2 came out, or the spring quarter in the year right after. I’m in my college/university’s small food court, sitting in a quiet fume near the section that normally housed that college’s anime club that I could never quite integrate myself into as seamlessly as I could my community college’s anime club. Mostly on my part, as I was going through a lot at the time. I don’t even know if this was right before the calm of the storm or its aftermath, but it’s all a very shitty, shitty time for me.

I’m just trying to, very angrily, depressedly, distract myself from everything in my life at the time. College is already hard, but I like learning, I’m getting a BA in English, and I had a lot of fun at my community college, and could probably easily find friends here if I tried. There certainly were a few other people I ran into from high school. Even some classmates somehow managed to like me in some classes. I’m here by sheer luck of the financial draw, as FAFSA and my CalGrant level are both taking care of things like tuition and books, and I haven’t needed to get a job yet. Things, with regards to college, are going pretty well. I should be happy. Happy about that, at least.

Outside of that wonderful, fun, interesting and amazing bubble that was college? Life. My mom is dying. Maybe she’s already dead by this point; I don’t really remember, because I made it a point to rely on my shitty memory to get through that time and not have to remember every single day of those years. I’m not sure if I regret that, but it was the only coping tool I had available to me other than video games, since drugs and alcohol were not things I was interested in, even if I could have afforded it. Books were normally also an escape, but the downside of English Major is that you have to read so many large texts and sometimes dense stories, that you can’t really squeeze much fun reading in-between. If my mom died/was dying, I was having to prepare for moving on top of her death finally striking, after a long, slow battle with cancer that I knew she’d lose all along. (That’s an entirely different, albeit shorter, story). I didn’t want to move, was hoping I could stay, but I think, if this was after her death, I had to uproot my life for the first time. I had moved to a mobile home trailer park to live with an old woman who was very critical of some things and I just didn’t feel comfortable staying there for anything other than sleep or a shower. So I felt out of place, removed and detached from everything, because I had to uproot my entire life in a manner of days, because my dad had sold the house I grew up in, for reasons that felt entirely shitty at the time. And, maybe, a little shitty, but were somewhat good reasons, if they had been given or explained more properly (or from anyone other than my dad, aunt, and grandmother).

I kind of lost myself just now, so I’mma try this again. Mother, dead or dying. House, sold before I could move out, and forcibly moved out in a manner of days. Everything I’ve ever known for a, at the time, lukewarm but familiar life, taken from after years of expecting it, and hoping it’d be just a little bit later, just a little further on, when I could maybe financially support myself. Income? Nonexistent. Barely lucking out on tuition fees by only the good grace of my state’s grants, FAFSA, and going to two of the cheapest schools in the state and maybe the nation (at the time). So I’m just feeling shitty, pissy, angry, depressed, just, so much all at once, everything happening all at once, and I’m taking on extra units to make sure I graduate in a spring semester rather than take 2-3 classes and graduate in the fall of a sixth year. I’ve felt lied to about the time it takes to get a degree, and even though I’m the first in my family to actually do all of the education on time, it just sucks.

I’m trying to escape it. And what else do I turn to, but Pokemon?

And I’ve already beaten bw2 by this point, and I’m just trying to do the Champions Tournament, because I was a shameless fangirl and eager to fight against Lance. And win (Note: I did not win as often as I’d’ve liked in the PWT or was used to throughout normal gameplay). I’ve seen the phrase he says when you lose against him about 5 or 6 times now, so I know what it says. I know what he says. I’m forgetful, however, so while I’m sitting in that busy corner of the food court, fuming about life and existing and everything happening all at once, mindlessly pressing the A buttong while playing a game to escape it all for just a little bit until I can come back and deal, his words strike a chord within me for once, that it made me want to cry.

"I never give up, no matter what. You must be the same?"

Like, I think I had made his rp blog about this time, and I had used a variant of that quote as the sidebar header/quote. Maybe. But I knew that he said that, and it didn’t affect me those times before-- outside of general fangirling for getting to him. But at that moment, on that day, it just made me burst into tears that I had to close my ds and move away. Because I grew up on too much anime, too much power of friendship and hope and not ever giving up. Of course I was the same, or I had been for the longest time. But at that point, I was just so tired, I just wanted a break for so long already, that it cut me to the core.

It was like a reminder that, no matter how shitty things got, to not give up.

That’s why it’s my favorite quote of his. It means so much to me. He means a lot to me, but not nearly as much as this quote did at that moment.

#cw death mention #this is like the crux of my life story and basically the whole alluded to negative point between a unova and kalos trip #no i will not be talking further about the parental stuff outside of fics on here #and when it comes up in fic it's to be utilized as a coping and exploration method in order to move past it #sympathies for the death are also not needed as that's a whole shitass ocean's worth of issues that I don't feel like bringing to this blog #sympathies for all that bullshit that resulted *is* allowed #ventisizedbard #asks

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a-crimson-lion · 4 years

Text

The Moms Of BNHA

[Warning: Spoilers and Potentially Triggering Opinions follow. You've been warned.]

[Also: Long Post.]

So, I've been thinking about this when I should be doing, homework (lol), but... can we talk about a certain trio of moms in BNHA?

Inko Midoriya

Inko is probably the least problematic mom I'll be talking about today. Does that make her perfect? Hell no! But she tries so hard for Izuku, and it shows. Even if she doesn't support Izuku's dreams of heroism once he's diagnosed as Quirkless, it's clear that she supported him in any other way she could think of. She's also worried about his well being, as we see after the mall confrontation and the aftermath of Kamino. And when she sees Izuku's dreams finally becoming a possibility after a lifetime of doubt, she apologizes, fully supporting Izuku's choice in life from there on out. Sure, after Kamino she considers pulling Izuku out of UA, but that's not from a place of selfishness or malice. It's out of worry. She wants her son to be happy, but she also wants him to be safe.

Honestly, I can't think of any legitimate reason to full on hate her...

Rei Todoroki

So Rei... gosh where do I begin?

She's definitely more problematic than Inko, or rather, her situation is. People tend to get on her case because she was apparently just as abusive to Shoto as Endeavor was, and-

Can... can we talk about this for a moment?

I understand that what Rei Todoroki did was wrong, end of discussion. I understand what Rei did only worsened the circumstances for her family, her son, and herself. I understand that while her institutionalization wasn't fair, it was likely for the best given her state of mind. But to put the blame squarely and soley on Rei's shoulders?

That's where I draw the line.

I only say this with the experience of a novice, but from personal experience, most people don't just randomly lash out spontaneously. In my case, it's usually a series of offenses (minor or major) that I refuse to respond to because I feel like that will make me a bad person, but that residual rage? It builds up. Sometimes you can let it out in minor spurts, but it's not enough. One day, one way or another, it will boil over. All that anger, all that frustration, all that rage will combust. You won't be able to stop it once it starts. You'll feel tense. You'll punch things, not caring whether you'll break them or they'll break you. When you get tired of that, you'll storm off into your room and angrily sob into your pillows, or yell/growl... or both. And when it's finally over, you'll still feel like crap. And it'll be a long while before it feels like you or anyone else can forgive yourself.

This is me anywhere from several months to several years. Rei Todoroki had to put up with Endeavor and his abusive behavior for about a decade.

Rei was abused, end of story. Rei's children were abused, either physically or neglectfully, end of story. We've seen Shoto's training. We've heard Endeavor hitting his wife and hearing her scream. People are not perfect. People are not invincible. To expect that someone like Rei could keep her head held high when it felt like the world was against her is like expecting a stone to say the same shape and size out in the open for thousands of years.

In the end, it all wears down.

Rei even knew this herself. She knew she was breaking down, and tried to call on her other family in order to stop something bad from happening. Too little, too late. Rei sees her son, the left side of her son, the side that her husband was responsible for, in a sense. She remembers all the beatings, all the physical and mental degradation against herself and her kids, and she snaps. She has finally had it with Endeavor, and in her fury, she pours boiling water against his face. Only it wasn't her husband's face. It was Shoto's. Her youngest child, her little boy, the one Endeavor was the most brutal to. The one she had wanted to live without fear of a beating.

And she just struck him without a second thought.

There's immediate remorse. Rei doesn't stew in her rage; the guilt overtakes her almost instantaneously. You could argue that trying to ice boiling water is not the best method of preventing a burn, but it's the intentions that matter here. From what I've heard, the scar could have been a lot bigger if Rei just stood there. Plus, I don't think it's necessarily common that people think 100% sanely when they're overcome by extreme emotion. Saying Rei was wrong for trying to soothe her son's burn even if it wasn't the best method is like getting made at a fireman for successfully putting a forest fire out, even of the trees are no longer living.

It's permanent damage, but would you rather deal with that, or something worse?

And just imagine how Shoto feels in all of this. There's sadness. There's betrayal. Of course some of it is directed at Rei, and deservingly so. The one person he felt he could trust basically just turned on him, seemingly out of nowhere. And yet... even though Shoto is a child, he's far from naive. He knows that Endeavor isn't a good person. He's heard his mother's cries, likely her arguments with his father, and he's even been a witness to Endeavor's abuse towards her. She may have done the deed, but for Shoto, the scar isn't his mom's fault. It's Endeavor's. He was the one who abused them, he was the one who took away their sense of happiness, of safety, he was the one who pushed them to the brink and then pushed them some more.

If he had just been a bit more considerate, a bit more reasonable, a bit more human, Rei's breakdown might have been delayed, if not outright nonexistent.

And can we just talk about the Rei/Endeavor parallels for a bit? Nowadays the manga readers are in the midst of Endeavor's redemption arc. I personally think that it's mildly problematic, but I will admit that it's probably better for Endeavor to not continue being a sorry excuse of a human being for the remainder of the series. That being said, I'd like to point out that Rei came first. Rei threw the first jab, and immediately felt remorse afterward. Shoto walked back into Rei's life, and she did not take that opportunity for granted. She spent the time shortly after her hospitalization trying to get better, and this is only more apparent when we see her for the rest of the series. As for Endeavor? His change in behavior was a lot slower. I'll admit that functionally speaking, he's a good hero, but as a person he's the scum of the Earth. He doesn't try self-evaluating after Shoto's fight with Izuku when Shoto says he only used his fire because he forgot about Endeavor. Even at Kamino, Endeavor is still an ass to All Might even though they have bigger things to worry about. And when he sees Small Might, exposed to the world? His first idea is to state that knowing he'd never catch up to All Might drove him to abusing his family.

Endeavor, buddy, that was your call. Not All Might's. Quite frankly, I don't think he's even aware of the BS you put your family through.

One of the few things that frustrates me about Endeavor's redemption is not that he has one; it's that under different circumstances, it wouldn't exist to begin with. Without All Might's retirement, without Endeavor forced into the spotlight as the new #1 Hero, there is no development on his part. I'd have the gall to say that Endeavor would still be a narcissistic asshole if All Might managed to hang on to his power for a while longer. Without the pressure of being #1 on his shoulders, Endeavor continues (in vain) to try and surpass All Might, or at least get Shoto to. He's still a good hero functionally speaking, but how long until his obsession starts to cloud his judgement? How long before the #2 Hero eventually slips up in his rage-fueled fervor?

I'll say it again: it's good that Endeavor is trying to change, but without any actual unprovoked self reflection on his part, it's not as impactful.

So to sum it up, I don't think Rei deserves all the hate she gets. She deserves to be held accountable for what she did, yes, but she's also a human being who was put into a mentally toxic position. It's a miracle she didn't snap sooner, and it's a miracle she's finally making progress with help from her kids.

Mitsuki Bakugo

And finally, the reason why I started down this train of thought.

I'm not even gonna try beating around the bush here: Mitsuki Bakugo is a bad parent.

Notice how I didn't say abusive. No, that does not mean I'm validating her. It just means I personally haven't seen or heard enough in the series thus far to justify whether she should be held on the same level as Endeavor, if not close.

I still have enough sense to see that she's not a good parent though. Far from it, actually.

So far we've only seem Mitsuki officially in a parent teacher meeting after Kamino, and a brief mention of her from Katsuki during the Remedial Course Arc. It doesn't paint a good picture. Right from the get go, her first scene is her hitting her son on the head and calling him weak. This isn't some slapstick or tough love, as some people will say. This is something entirely different, and it should tell readers two things.

Mitsuki is disconnected from her son.

Mitsuki is a carbon copy of her son.

Now take that second point with a grain of salt. People have said time and time again that Mitsuki is basically a genderbent Katsuki, which is accurate to a degree. She's also more mellowed out than Katsuki, as she can talk to other people without trying to assert her dominance. She's actually surprisingly aware of her son's superiority complex as well, but... For all that, it's obvious that Mitsuki isn't actually fully aware of her son's issues. Like her son, Mitsuki is also too focused on her son's brute strength. Calling him weak isn't some karmic justice for all the times Katsuki has said the same to other people; it's a feedback loop that feeds into Katsuki's insecurities, which feeds into his inferiority complex, which feeds into his superiority, which then repeats ad infinitum. You could argue that maybe Katsuki has acted too thick-skinned around his mom to let her actually get a feel for his problems, but I personally doubt that she's really tried to understand her son, or maybe she just... gave up.

And then there's Katsuki saying that he was raised with violence. "BUT CRIMSON, SHE HAS TO BE ABUSIVE IF SHE'S WILLING TO HIT HER KID, WhY cAn'T yOu AcCePt ThAt!?" Well, from what I learned, people can hit their kids and still? Not? Be abusers? Spanking used to be a thing, y'know, and while it's heavily controversial nowadays, I doubt that the good parents used it at the drop of a hat. Kids can be jerks; I was one. Back to Mitsuki, I doubt that this line meant from the day Katsuki had been four years old, his life had been hell. I feel like even if Mitsuki was still brash, she didn't immediately start beating on Katsuki when he started to get a big head. If anything, I'd assume she waited about two years at most before she started letting the fists fly. Keep in mind, almost everyone Katsuki meets admires him for his abilities. Who's to say his mom wasn't one of those people at the start? It wouldn't have been until Katsuki ego started becoming a noticeable issue that Mitsuki decided she needed to tale care of it. Only problem? Mitsuki makes bad decisions, just like her son. Resorting to physical violence and verbal taunts did nothing to help Katsuki, but it's what Mitsuki knew how to do, so she rolled with that. I'm not giving Katsuki a pass because of this, however. Shoto essentially went through the same thing, and his response was not to endlessly shout at others or display dominance. The violence targeted at the boys was brutal, but violence doesn't justify more violence. Katsuki may have had a convenient excuse to start being an ass to people, but so did Shoto. And yeah, "Earlyroki" was an ass, but at least it wasn't intentional.

Before I go, I just want to bring up really quick where Masaru falls into this. One could argue that Masaru's also to blame for how Katsuki turned out for not stepping in but... have you seen Mitsuki, or even Katsuki for that matter? No offense to Masaru, but he's kind of a doormat character. He only married Mitsuki due to her persistence, and while Masaru's "Oxidizing Sweat" quirk is likely destructive, Masaru himself is... not. He seems to be the exact opposite of his wife and son personality wise, only instead of canceling them out, his lack of dominance forces him to run for cover should a dark omen come about. We've seen what Katsuki's done to Izuku before UA. Masaru basically has to put up with two of those, and unlike our protagonist, he doesn't have the resilience to withstand that much anger.

So...

TL;DR. Inko Midoriya is a great mom who just wants her son to be safe and happy. Rei Todoroki cares a lot about her son and is willing to work to show it, even in the face of setbacks. Mitsuki Bakugo is a terrible parent who either needs to figure out what's wrong with her son properly, or leave to someone who can.

Thank you for your time.

-Crimson Lion (24 November 2019)

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falloutglow · 4 years

Text

Hazard

[AO3 link]

Summary: Down in the Third Rail, Nova wants to buy a drink while her ghoulfriend, NoOne, just wants to relax, and the mayor makes his entrance.

Written for Discord Server Prompt.

Nova hopped onto the bar stool and stared at the Mr. Handy wearing a bowler hat passing out drinks down at the other end of the counter. As he hovered back, Nova pressed her elbows on the counter, cupped her chin and batted her lashes. The Handy eyed her. He had a few stickers in red, white, and blue stuck to him. Or were they magnets. Oooo maybe they sold those too?

“You gonna buy something, or sit there taking up space, Ma’am?”

Nova grinned, refocusing on the Handy’s trio of eyestalks. “Got any whiiiisky?” She asked, letting her dangling feet kick the counter and her stool’s legs.

“Sorry,” he said, in his condescending tone, “fresh out.”

She squinted at him as she stuck out her lower lip. “Pleaaaaaaase~” she fluttered her lashes again. When he didn’t make a move she huffed, “fiiine. What about some Stout stuff.”

A dark blue bottle appeared in front of her. “Twelve caps.”

She slapped eleven down and popped the one off her bottle. “Thaaaank youuuuu~” she sang before sliding off her chair and scurrying off close to the stage. A ghoul wearing a dusty cowboy hat raised her head as Nova took the open spot next to her.

She clicked her tongue as Nova tapped her bottle against the ghoul’s. “Charlie not sellin’ ya whiskey?” She guessed as Nova pulled her bottle close.

Nova sighed loudly. “Nooooo,” she took a swig of her drink and swished it in her mouth before swallowing, “eh, not the saaaame, NoOne.”

NoOne rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “Not my fault you’re a hazard to society when ya drink too much.” She took a sip of her own drink, a nuka cola and rum. Something else Nova was forbidden to drink in present location. “You’ll burn right through ‘em if yain’t careful, Matches.”

Nova’s lower lip quivered.

“No,” NoOne sighed loudly, “now hush, Mags is gonna sing something.”

Nova leaned on the table to rest her chin right as Magnolia in her flashy, sequin scarlet dress took to the stage. Nova perked up as the band started to play a nice jazz number and Magnolia’s voice cut through the chattering room. NoOne leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes as Nova placed her chin on her hands. Nova’s body swayed to the music as she hummed to the music. She turned to NoOne and grinned.

“Dance?” Nova asked, reaching over to grab NoOne’s hand.

One of NoOne’s eyes opened. She hummed. “You dance?”

Nova scoffed. “Of course!” She rolled her eyes, “We danced last week!”

NoOne snorted. “Fair.” She grunted as she sat up while Nova scurried to NoOne’s side as she stood. “How much didja drink?"

Nova blinked and puffed her cheeks. “Only like a couple sips.”

NoOne took a quick swig of her nuka cola and rum and sat it on the table. “Just checkin’.” Nova grabbed NoOne’s hands and dragged her to the open area before NoOne could protest too much.

Hand in hand they pushed and pulled each other. Nova beamed up at NoOne, not caring one bit that eyes were suddenly focusing on them. A couple steps and Nova spun. They pressed together as Nova laughed. She loved being spun. NoOne’s hand squeezed Nova’s shoulder as Nova pressed her hand on NoOne’s back. Their hands clasped together as they dipped with the rhythm. They broke apart and pulled together, side by side. NoOne smirked at Nova, her eyes sparkling against the neon.

They continued their dance, feet narrowly missing each other as the rhythm took them. NoOne chuckled, breathless, as she was dipped, her hand reactively holding onto her hat before gravity took it. Nova beamed as the Magnolia’s song ended and some folks who’d be watching, whistled in approval.

Nova helped NoOne back to her feet just as a familiar bright red frock came into view, clapping with the rest of the crowd.

“Not bad sweetheart,” Hancock laughed as he approached them, “not bad.” NoOne scoffed, her previous smile nonexistent as Hancock high fived Nova.

“And what’s our ‘good’ mayor doing round here?” NoOne said, idly placing her hands on her hips.

Hancock grinned at her as he leaned against the bar. “Ey Charlie, get everyone here a round on me.”

The Mr. Handy scoffed, but muttered an “Of course.” As he hovered over to the closest crowd at the bar, eagerly waiting for a refill.

Nova gasped. “Oooo! Can I have-“

Hancock pushed off the counter, his face turned serious as he nodded to their table. NoOne shot him a surprise look as she hooked arms with Nova, who started to pout, realizing nobody here was going to allow her to drink her whiskey. Hancock tilted his hat at Magnolia, signalling her to start up a new song as the trio hunkered down in their spots near the stage.

Hancock grabbed the stout bottle and swirled it. Nova huffed. “That’s mine.”

“Sorry Sister,” he said as he took a swig, “but you know the rules.”

She crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip. “Y'all are rude.”

NoOne sniffed her drink and ran her finger on the rim before gently tasting it. Hm. Nothing. She took a last swig of her drink and sat her empty bottle back on the table. “Rather be rude than crispy, Matchstick.” She said, gently kicking the toe of her boot against Nova’s leg.

Nova sighed loudly as she, dramatically as possible, laid her cheek on the table. “I’ll burn it off…” she mumbled.

“Go get a nuka,” Hancock gestured to the bar with his head, “on the house.”

Nova laid there, frowning as she weighed her options before rolling off the table and lading perfectly on her feet. “Fine.” She crossed her arms, “but you still owe me.” She stuck her nose in the air and marched off while NoOne turned her attention to Hancock.

“So,” NoOne said, leaning on the table and pushing her empty bottle to the side, “what’s the good ol’ mayor doing busying himself with us locals and throwing caps at gettin’ everyone drunk?”

Hancock smirked against the mouth of his bottle. “Word on the street is ah…” he leaned towards her, voice lowering so not even Magnolia could hear him above her own voice, “you recently made a trip to a brewery.” He placed the stout bottle on the table and turned the label towards her.

NoOne grimaced. “Yes. That place was crawling with raiders. Very flammable. Your point?”

Hancock tapped the bottle. “Our favorite little flame mentioned something about a recipe…”

NoOne groaned and rubbed her face. “Of course she did.”

“Of course I did what?” Nova asked, taking a long swig of her Nuka Cola. She grinned as they stared at her like a radstag caught in a headlamp. “Didja know that alcohol can burn like 3 thousand degrees.” She nodded to herself as she sat down between them, “Very hot.”

Hancock snorted as NoOne shook her head. “No? Ya don’t say.” Hancock tapped the stout bottle against Nova’s Nuka Cola, “That is mighty hot.” NoOne tipped her empty bottle before either of them could tap it.

Nova nodded sagely, as she tapped the bottom of her bottle against the empty one, sending it spinning on the table. “Yep, though not nearly as hot as either of you.” She fluttered her lashes.

NoOne sighed and turned away as Hancock laughed. “Laying it on mighty thick today, Sister.”

NoOne cleared her throat and gave Nova a pointed look. “What do you want, Matchstick?”

Nova scooted her chair a bit closer to NoOne and leaned on the table. Her deep brown eyes staring deeper into the blackened abyss. “Dance with meeeeeee .” She stuck out her lower lip and fluttered her lashes again. “Pleaaaaaaase~”

Hancock gestured to Nova while giving NoOne a mischievous grin. “If you won’t, I wouldn’t mind giving our lady a dance.”

Nova gasped and bounced in her chair as she spun towards him. “ Really!? ”

Hancock nodded. “Course I would Sweetheart~”

NoOne frowned at Hancock as she grabbed Nova’s free hand. “Uh, no. I see what you both are doing and I hate both of you.”

Hancock shrugged his shoulders as Nova chugged the rest of her bottle. “Whatever do you mean?”

NoOne narrowed her eyes at him as Nova slammed her now empty bottle onto the table. “You manipulative little-“ Nova tugged NoOne down a little to plant a big wet kiss on her cheek. The rest of NoOne’s words died in her mouth.

“You loooove uuuuuus~” Nova sang and beamed at NoOne with pride while Hancock gave Nova a low-five.

NoOne grumbled under her breath as Nova tugged her to her feet. “C’moooon~ Another dance before Mags takes a breaaaaaaak.”

Hancock leaned back in his chair and raised the bottle towards them as NoOne was dragged to the dance floor. “Another time then.” He said to himself as Magnolia shot him an amused look, still singing and watching her crowd.

Nova held NoOne’s hands in hers and they once again began their dance, gently pushing and pulling each other as they found the rhythm to Magnolia’s next song. They laughed and spun, dipped and swayed, unaware of anyone else in the room. Hancock smiled to himself, drinking the remains of the Stout he took. He rolled his shoulders and adjusted his signature tricorn hat as he stood and slowly made his way towards the exit.

They’ll come find him when they’re done.

They always do.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #john hancock fallout 4 #hancock #ghouls #glow fic #glow's ocs #NoOne is a ghoul #Poppy 'Nova'#i need to give her a last name someday....#*jazz hands* check it yo #I FINISHED A THING!! :D

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