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melrodrigo · 10 months

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Tardy, part 4

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: You take Tara on the long awaited first date, how will it go?

Warnings: Suggestive themes, so much fluff you might throw up, teeny bit of angst

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This is purely a filler chapter because R and Tara deserve a break, here’s some fluffy shit. I’m not really sure how I feel about it, but as always; thank you for the love!

In the end, it doesn’t take you that long to plan the date.

It might be because you’ve been dreaming about this moment for months, or it’s just that easy being with Tara.

There was a famous festival happening soon, and you’ve always wanted to take a girl there. Do all the cliche things, win her a bear; ride the Ferris wheel; make out in a secluded alleyway.

“So where are we going?” Tara muses as she sidles close to you.

You raise an eyebrow at her, “That desperate already?”

She rolls her eyes, “I think we established that already.”

“What are you two lovebirds whispering about?” Mindy asks from the couch. Sam’s eyes immediately narrow.

Please don’t mess this up for me, Mindy.

“Oh nothing, just talking about how hot YN looks today,” Tara answers quickly, smirking as you turn red.

Sam grimaces at her statement, mumbling something not-so-nice under her breath.

Chad’s also been particularly gloomy today, after overhearing a conversation between Mindy and Tara about your date.

He’s shut off every attempt Tara’s made at small talk, shooing her off with a not-so-subtle glare.

You can see it in her stance, her shoulders somewhat sagged; she’s burdened by it.

You wait until Tara leaves (gets forced) by Sam to go for a grocery trip.

Sam claims it’s for “sister bonding time”, all the while Tara is screaming and crying trying to get out of her sister’s grip.

You manage to calm her down by pressing a kiss to Tara’s forehead and whispering that she should go. She pouts but hesitantly leaves.

As soon as the door closes, you turn and make your way to Chad in the living room. Mindy gets up, shooting you a look before leaving you guys alone.

You sit beside Chad on the couch, feet bouncing; eyes staring at the ceiling.

He’s silent; too silent for your liking.

A few minutes pass before you think that maybe you should bail, you didn’t have to do this right now.

“Did you have to mess everything up?” He finally speaks, voice hot.

You roll your eyes, of course, he was going to be dramatic.

“Tara picked me. Respect her opinion bro.” You say, malice laced with the last word.

He doesn’t budge, ”She would’ve picked me if you didn’t swoop in. I was this close.”

He makes a gesture with his hands, pinching them together. You feel the anger rising in you steadily.

But for the sake of Tara, and peace altogether; you don’t make a scene.

“The heart wants what it wants, I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Chad groans, but you can tell he softens up a bit; body language opening up.

He hesitates before speaking again.

“I’m- I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to fall for Tara. I just couldn’t help it, you know?”

He looks like he’s fighting tears. You can’t help but feel bad; he was just a lovesick boy.

You sigh and pat his back gently.

“I know,” You murmur, “And I get it, truly I do. But Tara’s made up her mind, and I’ve certainly made up my mind; so stop acting like a man-child and be a good friend. She’s going through a hard time right now.”

Your words linger in the air before Chad breathes out heavily.

“You’re…you’re right. I hate to admit it but you’re right.” He says it like he’s just realizing it now himself.

“I’m sorry too, I know it’s hard to see happen right in front of you..” You trail off, reminiscing on a certain someone from your past. You snap out of it when Chad speaks again.

“I won’t be a jerk to Tara, I promise. Can’t guarantee I won’t be a little snappy to you though.”

You breathe out in relief, nodding and sticking your hand out to him.

“That’s fair.” Is what you say, and he takes you in a firm handshake. Laughs a little bit.

“I can’t believe Tara likes a dork like you.” He says, gesturing to your hand with a nod of his head.

You chuckle slightly.

“I can’t either.”

The butterflies are fluttering so wildly in your stomach at this point you think they might just force their way up and out your mouth.

It’s the date.

You fidget with your fingers, sitting on the couch waiting for Tara to come out. You check the time on your wristwatch, you guys have to move soon if you want to fit all the activity plans you’ve set up.

“Tar? You done?” Your voice cracks a little, and you’re extremely grateful Tara can’t see your face right now.

You cough to hide it.

“Wait! I’ll be done in five.” She yells. You would believe her if it wasn’t the millionth time she’s said it in the past hour.

“Yeah, five hours.” You mumble.

“Shut up!“

Your ears perk up, blushing in embarrassment that she heard you.

You sit obediently until Tara opens the door, dressed in black overalls with a white t-shirt inside.

It’s not much, but it’s not like you have to do much when you look like that.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel your heartbeat race impossibly faster.

“You done? Or are you just going to keep gawking at me til I make you move?”

God, she was annoying.

You shake your head, snapping out your love-filled daze. “Yeah yeah, let’s go superstar.”

The drive there calms you down a bit. The minute you got into your car Tara had taken hold of the AUX, happily DJ-ing for the trip.

You’re quite the music freak, but you didn’t mind her controlling it this one time.

You knew it was worth it when you watched her scroll through her playlist, eyebrows furrowed; a slight frown on her face in concentration.

God, she was adorable.

You blink, surprised by your own thoughts. Jesus, this was worse than you thought. This girl had you saying shit like that?

Tara finally stops scrolling and presses one triumphantly. Glue song by Beabadobee and Clairo starts playing.

It’s a cute song, and it relaxes your nerves and helps you loosen up.

By the time you’re there, you feel normal; good even. It’s just another day with Tara, comfortable, and loving.

It’s hard not to smile like an idiot, taking her hand in yours and dragging her over to the carnival opening.

It’s amazing. The lights, the endless games, the mouthwatering food.

You stand agape, unsure of where to go first. Thankfully, it looks like Tara’s in the same boat.

Her eyes lock in on something and she gasps.

“There! There’s a haunted house over there, let’s go!” She’s like a child with the excitement that radiates off her.

You raise an eyebrow.

“We just got attacked by Ghostface and you want to go into a haunted house?”

She shrugs, disregarding your statement.

“Doesn’t matter, I love haunted houses.”

Hm. That’s kind of psychotic. You decide it’s sort of hot.

You nod, and Tara brightens up; practically dragging you over in a hurry.

“Two tickets please.” You tell the teenager working the booth; who looks like they would rather be doing anything but this.

She hands you the tickets and you and Tara stand hand in hand, waiting in front of the big house.

“You scared?” Tara smirks, eyeing your nervous mannerisms.

“In your dreams.” You return.

Turns out, you might’ve really been in Tara’s dreams because that was one hell of a haunted house. You’re pretty sure you almost shit yourself at some point.

It’s not so bad when you remember how Tara would flinch and retract back into you though.

It’s pathetic how a single touch could turn scary into euphoric.

You guys scour the whole carnival after that, giggling as you bump tiny cars with each other, ride all the rollercoasters; well, all the rollercoasters that allowed a 5’0 person to be on.

Tara pulls you into a tent, lights dimmed and kisses you like her life depends on it. Hands grabbing at your face, a soft groan leaves her lips as you bite down on her bottom lip.

You briefly feel sand beneath your feet, and you don’t pay much mind to it; until the sound of big theater lights turns on and shines into your eyes. You and Tara practically jump away from each other, startled.

You’re met with the sight of children and adults alike; staring straight at you. They’re sitting on connecting chairs, mouths wide open.

You look around for the first time and notice the humongous red ball, the striped hoops, and the elephant hiding behind the back curtain.

Oh.

You speak fast before you can make it much worse.

“Sorry ‘bout that folks, consider it a little preshow!” You bow, and quickly take Tara’s hand, running out of the tent and into the carnival again.

Tara’s giggling so hard that she has to stop and catch her breath.

“Oh my god, I’m going to cry.” She manages to squeak out as she puts a hand over her stomach to calm down.

The rest of the night is spent in bliss, the food is amazing, and the lights reflecting on her face makes her somehow more beautiful.

You manage to win her a little teddy bear, and she beams as she pulls it into her side. She doesn’t let go of the bear for the rest of the night.

When you guys get back to the apartment, climbing in by the window to avoid Sam; Tara’s still giggling slightly.

You pull her forward and wrap her in your arms. It isn’t a very “first date” move, but the beer you had at the carnival must be making you extra confident.

“How was that for a first date?” You muse, brushing your nose against hers.

Tara looks flushed as she answers.

“It was good.” She says, voice high. It only helps your confidence boost higher.

“Would you want to go on another one?” You whisper, eyes flitting down to her lips and back to her other eye.

Triangle method, gotcha.

Tara leans impossibly closer, centimeters away from your lips.

She’s breathing heavily, and it takes everything in you not to kiss her. You want to make sure she wants it; you’ll let her take her time.

“I definitely would. Are you gonna ask me to be your girlfriend?”

Her words take you by surprise, eyebrows raising.

“Bold,” You murmur. “But yes, Tara, will you be my girlfriend?”

She nods, but it’s barely visible because she’s so close to you. It’s getting harder by the second to not just take her face in your hands and kiss her until she can’t breathe.

“Absolutely.” And she closes the gap between you two, kissing you softly; with emotion, with passion.

You sigh a little at the kiss. Who knew Tara Carpenter was such a romantic?

It turns heated fast, and you guys don’t stop, not even when you hear the front door open and the sound of Sam’s voice ringing.

It’s not until Sam actually opens the door to Tara’s bedroom that you break away and try to turn your face.

The look on her face is mixed with disgust and that lingering suspicion she always has when she sees you.

You can’t stare very long though, because Tara’s already pulling your face back; desperate to keep your attention and taking you in a searing kiss.

You hear Sam scoff, but it sounds a million miles away.

“Go away, Sam,” Tara says against your lips, and you can’t help but smile at her daring attitude.

Surprisingly, Sam does. Walking to her room with a sigh, probably knowing that if she started an argument she would lose.

Tara doesn’t waste any time pushing you down on her bed, straddling your waist; lips still fused together.

She grinds on you just slightly as she lets out a huff.

“You’re in for one long night.”

Tara’s a little wobbly the next day, and you’re shining; proud glint in your eyes.

You both look like crackheads, smiling bright; and you can tell it bugs Sam by the way she leaves the room when you enter.

When Tara walks over and sits directly in your lap, it seems to send Sam over the edge because she stands abruptly; announcing to everyone that she’s leaving to go to the station.

“The police station? Why are you going there?” You ask, cocking your head to the side.

Sam grabs her phone and wallet as she answers, “Detective Bailey called. He says he wants to meet me. Talk about something with Ghostface.”

Tara perks up in your lap, “Ghostface? Does he have leads?”

Sam shrugs and continues making her way through the hallway and out the front door.

Tara turns to you and gives you a quick peck. She doesn’t have to say anything, you understand her perfectly. She’s going to go with Sam.

You nod in understanding, letting go of your hands around her waist.

There’s not much to do when Tara’s gone, so you decide to go take a quick shower. Trying to make breakfast was a disaster, and there might’ve been a couple of flour stains and egg yolk on you.

It’s nice, peaceful. You feel like you’re on cloud 9, yesterday and today was like a dream.

The illusion shatters when you step out of the shower and find 3 missed calls from Tara. Worry immediately pangs in you.

You hurriedly click into her contact and press the dial button. It’s cut off immediately.

“Shit.” You mumble, wrapping a towel around yourself and rushing out of the bathroom.

You get dressed in record time, don’t explain to the rest of the gang where you’re going; curious eyes on you.

The trip to the station is a short one, well it’s short because you’re literally speeding there; hands gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turn white.

You practically burst through the doors, startling the hoard of officers sitting down.

You stop, hold a hand up; and catch your breath for a second.

“Where’s…where’s Detective Bailey?”

A worried-looking front desk officer is the one who answers you. Leads you to the interrogation, makes you wait in front of it.

You fiddle with your thumbs, head low as you wait in front of the tiny room. They take 10 more minutes, but it feels like hours to you.

When the door opens, you leap out of your seat and take Tara in a bear hug.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t answer, I was in the shower.” You mumble into her hair, and you’re so caught up with being rejoiced she’s alive that you don’t notice that she doesn’t hug you back.

She pulls away, and swerves your attempt at kissing her, turning her head so your lips only brush her cheeks.

Sam looks at you; angry energy radiating off her body.

You suddenly feel weird, like the atmosphere has shifted.

You frown and peer down at Tara’s face. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, tight expression.

“Tara?”

“Let’s just go home. I’m not going to do this here.” She says.

Your brows furrow. “Do what?”

She doesn’t answer, but she does let you entwine your pinky fingers as you walk out, and you rejoice a little.

The walk to their apartment is silent, only interrupted by a couple of jabs from Sam at you.

It isn’t until you enter Tara’s room; door closed that she turns on you, with an expression you don’t recognize.

“Why did they find your DNA at the crime scene?”

#tardy #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader #scream vi #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x reader #vada cavell x reader

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mishacakes · 6 months

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how do you connect to your character? like how do get to know them so well? how do you pick out their likes, dislikes, habits and those itty bitty bits about them? I've been struggling to do that for sooo many of my ocs, and i'm also at a lost of how to design them. like i once had a clear idea of what kind of character they are, but i wanted to change them a bit, make them a little better, and i feel like I've lost that character and that character i'm working on doesn't exists, no matter how much i loved them and enjoyed writing an drawing them. this has happened with every single character i made and it just makes me think that i may not be cut out for drawing or writing characters. i look up to you so i thought of asking you for help

sry for the long rant idk wat im doing

HELLO HELLO THANK YOU FOR ASKING!! So basically I took this question and turned it into a 1.6k word essay on writing characters and how I like to do it, so, uh, hope you enjoy!! and hope it helps!

OK!! character writing. How do you do it? or, well, how do I do it. I’ve got a few methods that help me out the most and are the most fun for me to think about. Here’s my big secret, if it’s not fun I don’t do it. I’m not here to do homework I’m waaayyyy out of school. I’m a legal adult. I pay my taxes. I’m not gonna do something that doesn’t give my brain the good fun juice. Anyways. My methods are: symbols, archetypes, and character inspiration. I use all these to figure out the CORE of a character, their very beating heart, and most importantly, what haunts them. Everything about a character, in my opinion, comes from this core and their ghost. Their habits, their fears, their joys, their coping mechanisms. So long as you have a clear grasp on their heart, you won’t go astray. Let’s dive into it! The characters I’m going to be using to describe how I use these methods are Alice and others characters from my webcomic—namely Edith, Hatter, and Rougina—and Tomiko (you know her you love her, catgirl supreme).

Symbols! I love using symbols, they’re something that can describe a character through metaphor, even without going into detail about their whole backstory and habits. Tomiko’s symbols are lanterns (specifically light), cats, ghosts/yokai, shapeshifting, and gold. They all work to further her character as a rough around the edges monster cat with a heart of gold, who uses shapeshifting as a method (both literally and metaphorically) to mold herself into what others need her to be. Alice’s symbols are hearts, eyes, and flesh in general. Try picking one general symbol (the ocean, the forest, the city), and see how specific you can get from there. Or pick a god or goddess that resonates with your character and see what symbols are used for them. Rougina (the antagonist in my webcomic) is a war goddess fallen from grace, and is symbolized with land and volcanoes, so I’ve used volcanic plants to evoke her. Personally I also love going through the tarot for symbols, assigning a tarot card to characters (of the major arcana) is a fun exercise. Which leads us nicely into our next method:

Archetypes! The tarot deck’s Major Arcana is pretty much only archetypes. The Empress as the Mother. The Magician as the Wise Mentor. The Tower as The Worst Thing That Could Possibly Happen Oh Jesus Shit. These can help a lot with who your character is. I’m extremely storytelling oriented, so it helps me knowing What Role a character serves in the story they inhabit. Another thing I love in archetypes in the Zodiac. Yes, I am an astrology bitch. The whole reason I love talking about my methods is my Sag rising, I love giving my wisdoms. But astrology can be used for writing, and not just for excusing and not reflecting on shit behavior (can’t help being a gemini!). The zodiac is FILLED WITH ARCHETYPES!!! From elements to how they function! The four elements (you A:TLA bitches know this), and three modalities. If you’re interested please watch Eugene’s Rank King video, it’s very informative on the signs. Also many symbols! For example, Alice is a Taurus—May 4, Alice Liddell’s birthday—so she’s pretty stubborn while also loving creature comforts. Tomiko’s birthday is August 23, making her a Virgo, so she likes being precise in her work. More archetypes you can look for are DnD classes! I love using that to design costumes. One of Edith’s recent costumes is very wizard inspired, since that’s the class I see her having as she’s very studious and driven. Heck, all of Alice and the Nightmare is derived from the character archetypes of the Alice in Wonderland characters! Rougina is specifically the Red Queen, NOT the Queen of Hearts!! The confusion started with the 1951 Disney animated movie when the two characters were merged!! Lewis Carroll himself said the two were different! The Queen of Hearts is an “embodiment of ungovernable passion” and the Red Queen is “the concentrated essence of all governesses”!! GOD!!! Tim Burton meet me in the fucking pit you’ll pay for your alice crimes. anyways.

Archetypes help a lot in costumes too, figuring out what kind of fashion they’d like to wear. You can start broad and get more specific with it (like going from a wizard type character to a wizard character with steampunk themes). Fashion is just an extent of character. What are they comfy in? Are they confident in their body? What colors do they like? Bright high fashion or simple dark sweaters? Ryoko Kui is a master of character design I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend checking out her work.

Another method I like using, specifically for Alice and the Nightmare characters, is what I call the “three trait method”. When I was in middle school we did a production of Alice in Wonderland (I was the White Knight), and too many girls auditioned for Alice. So the director’s solution was to split the character into three parts, and assigning each part to an actor. Her temper, her intelligence, and her innocence, all used in different scenes. Now I use that to think about my own Alice character, except with “polite, temper, and curious”. Edith’s keywords are “nervous, tactical, and intelligent”. Hatter’s are “kind, enthusiastic, and intuitive”. Using keywords can help figure out how they’d react in a situation, what side of them would shine the brightest. Hatter’s want to help everyone is his kindness, but overstepping his bounds can be attributed to his enthusiasm. Edith can know what path to take in a pinch, but her nervousness can freeze her in place. Reading the source material helps a lot with Alice characters too, which brings us to our final point:

Character inspiration!! The art of taking things you like and shoving them into your own characters and stories. DISCLAIMER THO!!! If you take things without really EXAMINING what about them you like, WHY you like them, and how you’d like to evoke that same love in the things you make, the interpretations can come off as shallow. (for more on this subject, watch HBomberguy’s RWBY video essay, specifically the section on “anime homework”)

Tomiko’s biggest inspirations are Izutsumi from Dungeon Meshi, April Ludgate from Parks and Rec, Power and from Chainsawman, San from Princess Mononoke, and Mei from LMK. It’s a good cocktail of aloof, biting, vicious, weird, fierce, loving, and bright. Figuring out what I love about the characters and what I want to write in a character like that helps a lot in writing Tomiko. It’s also really fun in a sense for screenshot redraws and memes.

Music is also a HUUUUUUGE source of inspiration for me, I love making playlists. And even as playlists can change as characters grow and change, having a couple of core songs still helps me ground to that character’s center. For Tomiko it’s “Make Them Gold” by CHVRCHES, and “Nice Girl” by Ashnikko. Alice’s is “Headlock” by Imogen Heap and “Demons” by Hayley Kiyoko, Edith’s is “Warrior” by Kimbra, and Hatter’s is “Dementia” by Owl City.

Ok, we’ve gotten though symbols, archetypes, and made a couple of banger playlists. Next is something that can help write your character, the Big Lie. The thing that keeps them up at night. Their biggest fear, their ghost, what haunts them. What’s holding them back from their goals? What do they need to overcome? That can be as central to their theme as any symbolism. For Tomiko it’s the lie that her emotions don’t matter, only what she can do to be of service to her mother. Her arc is about overcoming her dismissing her own emotions and learning to not run away from the people who she truly cares for. Alice dismisses the literal ghost that is haunting her believing that that will let her have a normal life. Edith pushes down abilities that come naturally to her for fear that she’ll be exiled, not just from society, but the world. Rougina believes she must burden the world’s problems on her own shoulders with no one’s help. The outer character and the inner ghost can reflect, mirror, and inform each other.

Now, listen, sometimes characters are hard to get to know! Tomiko was lol. Quinn was for a looong time. And in times like this, I just, let them be. I listen to some music to get inspired, and let them tell me about themselves when they feel like it. And they will, it just take a little while. And a few dozen quick exploration drawings. But they come through. Also, try not to get bogged down with habits and little details of their character, keep their core in mind, what their heart is. Start broad and get specific. That way, if you feel like you’ve lost your way or the character feels different to you, recenter yourself at their heart and go from there. Or, if you find that their center no longer fits, don’t be afraid to change it! Characters are meant to be fun! First and foremost!! I make characters cause I like writing and storytelling, and drawing little comic for fun and me time. Sometimes characters stick around, sometimes they fall by the wayside. You really have to find what sparks joy, and chase your bliss!

So as long as you have your character’s essence in your hands, and you WANT to keep working on them and drawing them, there’s really no wrong way to go. This whole essay I’ve given is just a set of tools that works for ME, and I HIGHLY encourage you to find stuff that works for you! I really really hope that all this has made sense and isn’t just the ramblings of a madman. Good luck and happy charactering!!

#meesh blabs #misha writings #character writing #happy reading and happy writing!#THANKS FOR ASKING <3

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venuscnjunctpluto · 1 year

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My first astrology observation

Credit: @venuscnjunctpluto

(Pls excuse the book at the end y’all I’m just sick of straight men)

*Black men w virgo rising either have dreads that they let hang in front of their eyes or they want dreads that they let hang in front of their eyes😭

*actors with mars-pluto aspects or Scorpio mars can play convincing psychopaths and villians (dacre Montgomery, drew starkey, ethan cutkosky)

*Saweetie and Mariah the scientist are Unconfirmed Taurus risings idgaf

*I have Pisces and Neptune in my 11th and when I tell you pisces can be so manipulative. I’ve been friends w all types of Pisces placements. Esp when Aries in is in mix they know exactly how to act like children and therefore literally be seen as children (zero accountability). For example chrisean rock whose a Pisces w an Aries mars.

* the biggest players are Scorpio/libra placement men by FARRR. They’ll flirt with anybody and they’ll befriend people who they know for a fact are interested in them romantically. You’ll know that they like when you they never “leave” you in any way, when they try to help you anyway they can, and when they change themselves for you (as terrible as that is that’s the truth). Lemme say after a break-up or any situation they feel wronged their hoe phase is terrible. They don’t gaf at ALL and my friend even got caught up (he spent the whole summer flirting w her after his gf dumped him and then ignored her once we got back to campus) she still doesn’t want to believe he was playing her.

*Im sorry but any prominent sag + Scorpio placements scare tf out of me. I had a stalker with a sag rising Scorpio Venus and mars and my cousin had an obsessive fwb w a sag rising Scorpio moon. Ted Bundy had hella sag and Scorpio on his chart. They have the humor and impulsiveness of a Sagittarius mixed with the intensity and passion of a Scorpio. I think it’s hard for people to realize how insane they are because they’re too busy cracking jokes😫

* 8h stellium natives we see the REAL in people like they come around us and act a mf fool

*women w Lilith inspecting ascendant🤝 Venus-Lilith aspects

*Me w an Aries rising 🤝 men w mars ruled venuses (Aries and Scorpio)

*Can we talk about why a lot of gemini Venuses have race fetishes😭 they’ll literally seek out certain races usually a group they’re not apart of

*8th house synastry is very strange to me. From my experience staring is very real, manipulative, and a lot of push-pull dynamics no thank you😮‍💨

*One really weird thing is I notice men who date younger women always have a cap mars like wtf. They seem to really like the power dynamics involved.

*Ok so me and my friend whose a female both have Venus conjunct pluto at like 2 degrees. I met a guy born a day after me and so did she (so they had Venus Pluto as well) We were intrigued because I’ve had my share of strange relationships but i noticed how light his energy was (the guys whose birthday was near mine). He didn’t really give off the same energy. i truly think it represents a guy’s relationship with women not necessarily him. I have seen women obsess over them but the women always had Scorpio energy in their natal chart already. also have a Madonna whore complex real mf bad so watch out. The WOMEN around them have Plutonian energy already and that’s why 8/10 they’re involved w Scorpio women. I’ve seen the same thing with women w mars-pluto (my mom has this conjunction and my step-dad is a Scorpio). Venus-Pluto men are not magnetic but with the way women (usually Scorpio influenced) act around them makes them think they are and they can become addicted to this attention. Yes other men can be jealous of how women act around them but sometimes they see the Venus-pluto man’s thirsty ways. I’ve seen men w this placement cross their friends for attention from girls. I met this guy w Venus square pluto and he seemed funny at first but he was so sleazy and childish when it came to talking to women I didn’t even wanna be around him. They also have a “type” usually. I’ve seen two men with this placements date girls who look like they could be sisters it’s very weird. I also believe Venus-Pluto men usually end up w women who have money *coughs* city boys or come from better financial situations than them while Venus-pluto women usually have the money they had before a relationship (even if through family). Ex: Beyoncé, Nicola Peltz, Ryan Destiny. You wanna see some real magnetism (and transformative chaos) find a woman w Venus Pluto and a man w mars Pluto🫦

#astro notes #astro observations #drew starkey #venus pluto #beyonce #nicola peltz #ryan destiny #dacre montgomery #saweetie #mariah the scientist

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weekendgothgirl · 2 months

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Récupération

Paring: N/A

Warnings: none

Word count: 452

Summary: Lee finds a way to cool down after a hard day.

A/N: A small fic to break in my new keyboard and to break out of my rut. Thanks to the wonderful @tuiccim for looking through this and the encouragement ❤️😘

Divider by @firefly-graphics

With a groan, Lee throws his hat onto the couch and shrugs his jacket off.

Fucking Leroy. The goddamn fool had him running about all over town trying to cover up his shit again. Fuck. One day he’s gonna kill him.

Loosening his tie, Lee grabs a beer, slamming the fridge shut with a frustrated noise. He’s too pent up. Annoyance and anger building up under his skin and he knows what could help but he can’t rouse himself. He can’t bring himself to go back out into that sticky heat to find a whore.

Sipping slowly from his bottle, he thinks through his limited options. It doesn’t take long before the only real option becomes clear to him and he tosses his bottle onto the coffee table. Groaning softly, he sheds his clothes, throwing them to the floor without care. His only thought now on his cock, already twitching and filling in anticipation. Anger and desire fizzes in his veins in a delicious cocktail, heightening each touch and sensation. Shifting slightly, Lee slips deeper into the cushions, legs widening as his fingers stroke his thighs. Biting his lip he trails his hands over slick skin to tease his cock. He barely touches himself and hisses in pleasure, fuck this won't take as long as he thought.

His head rolls back on the couch, tongue darting out to wet his lip as he grasps his cock, squeezing gently with a moan. He plants his feet firmly against the floor as he rolls his hips, slowly fucking into his own hand. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine a girl between his legs, her tongue lapping at him messily. Stroking the head with his thumb, his breath catches in his throat as he smears precome along his length. He vaguely pretends it's her but the image is shaky and he focuses on the pleasure instead. His hips move faster, his hand gripping his cock and fingers teasing the ridge as he pants. Pleasure rises and he loses himself, cock twitching as he watches the tip appear and disappear in his hand.

Head thumping back, he can feel his muscles jump as he edges closer, all the negativity pushed away by the flood of fuck yes and pleasure.

Reaching down he palms his balls as he works his cock, feeling full and almost bursting. He feels overwhelmed. Alive. Raw. Clean of emotion.

His back arches and he cries out as he comes, body shaking at its intensity and he wonders at how far he shoots. White on his chest, almost to his shoulder as he sags back exhausted. Fuck, he doesn't know what moved him so but it was almost worth it.

#lee bodecker #the devil all the time #fic #solo fic #Sebastian Stan

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ms0milk · 7 months

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𝟏𝟏 | 𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Being safe from sand and ocean winds doesn’t seem worth it to the Alderan prince, not worth enough to miss the sun rising every morning. How could you die in a place like this? How could you possibly be okay with that?"

no cw unless you’re averse to apprehensive touch between enemies. reader and co recover from last night’s attack in their own ways. two fools stand too close in a cold hallway. three fools finally go to the sea and one of them can’t get you out of his head 6.8k

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Bakugou’s first memory of you is doused in blood. His second is somewhat more pleasant. Just two giant, shining eyes peering at him through a crack in the library door. You’re lightfooted now, sure, but back then he could feel you coming through the floorboards from how excitedly you wiggled at your self assigned post. You thought you were hiding. Him pretending not to notice, and you pretending it wasn’t hours after curfew.

Bakugou liked to do magic for you. Sometimes he waited for the sound of your heart or your twiddling thumbs before he blew out the candles around him and lit the first pink spark on his fingertips.

The prince can’t hear well enough anymore to recognize your heartbeat, so he’s been searching for your bedroom since dawn.

Wretched flashes of you play across his ash lashes like a curse. Of you toppling off a cliff like some psalmic tragedy. The pleading in your grasp but something– something else in the blacks of your eyes on the mages back. Relief? Like the first flecks of ease he’s seen since he made warm magic for your audience. If his fists weren’t drawing blood from his palms as he marched he might have reflected on how long he’s been watching you.

All this work just to wring your fucking neck. Takoba is ill-equipped for Bakugou’s Alderan thunderstorm. Castle marble trembles underfoot.

What the fuck were you thinking?

He’d like to throw your door open, demand an answer and then not tolerate a response. It’s been three hours of his tirade. Of startling footmen and growling at maids, before he finally catches the tailend of someone useful.

“Oi, Cheeks!”

Uraraka isn’t thrilled about this and pauses, considering for a moment, before turning around. She chews her lip instead of rolling her eyes.

It’s just short of miserable where the two of them are standing, freezing in this part of the castle and somehow also stuffy. The only windows are at the long ends of hallways. It smells old. Being safe from sand and ocean winds doesn’t seem worth it to the Alderan prince, not worth enough to miss the sun rising every morning. How could you die in a place like this? How could you possibly be okay with that?

“Where is she?”

“Gods, the pair of you–”

“Where?”

Uraraka, in her padded cotton sparing clothes, sags weight to one hip, “Kats, she’s your guard. What do you mean where is she?”

Bakugou hasn’t gotten enough sleep for this. Up until bitter hours with Aizawa and his men recounting the attack and now stalking Takoban hallways. A perfectly comfortable bed beside a steady fire, ruined by the memory of you.

He spits and pushes past the soldier. Fuck her, fuck it. He doesn’t hate you more than he wants to sleep.

“Last blue door,” Uraraka barks behind him, “and she doesn’t want help. I already tried.”

She grins nervously as the prince adjusts his gait, hardly hiding his beeline for the room at the end of the hallway. Fuck sleep. And more crucially, fuck you. You, setting great fires in Aldera’s name wherever you step and bursting at your simple seams to be righteous about it.

A blind man might be more prepared than him. Might remember why he avoided you all week– what he was going to say to you in the gardens those few hours ago, before the mage and blue fire.

Your door is already open a crack when Bakugou approaches with a egotistical lack of decorum. Storming and sauntering. Morning sunlight hardly illuminates anything on this side of the castle. He’s just cold enough, just close enough to the edge of irate that the thought of swinging it fully open with a roar fills him to the brim with grim satisfaction.

At a distance, Uraraka thinks about stopping him, but his wind up, his general air and the tense of his shoulders dies before he can cause the scene she knows he wants to.

Inside the crack, Bakugou deflates as you slip into view. You keep your back turned. Dark blush climbs up the parts of your neck neither hair nor nightgown cover and you stop your gentle drifting at the foot of your bed. Steam from a tub under your window fights with the sea draft. You’re trying to reach something– a ribbon? And your fingers tremble as they graze a tie at the back of your dress. Are you in a hospital gown? Bakugou peers inside silently, completely underestimating the shock of seeing you conscious.

You don’t look right without a sword. You don’t look right at all. Turn around. He can’t see– what did Uraraka say? Help with what?

Bakugou touches golden fingertips to the door’s beveled edges at the same time as you slam your fist hard to one of your bed’s four posters. The prince’s fingers twitch instead of startling but it’s too late because your ears work leagues better than his and you’ve spun right around to catch whoever it is that’s watching you. Uraraka drifts carefully around the corner.

“Wh– Highness?”

Your door flies open inward and Bakugou can tell you’re nursing your left arm by the way you reach with your right. Though your frustration deflates with a glimpse of him, it doesn’t shift to something comfortable. He’s not what fills you with ease.

He didn’t expect to be so disarmed by the sight of you alone but now that you’re here, solid and in front of him, he can’t stop remembering the state of you in the gardens. Wet and bleeding, bubbling and burnt to a crisp and still, still swinging a spear. You shouldn’t be getting dressed, you should be dead asleep in the hospital. Bakugou hasn’t thought this far and he doesn’t think he can yell anymore.

“Sir?”

What did he come here to say to you?

You look like a proper wild Alderan this morning like he’s hardly ever seen you. Worn eyes and bed hair, battle scars and a bruise that peeks out from under your collar. It took seeing you for him to remember the last conversation you’d had.

You’re mine.

“Your arm,” he musters instead of thinking harder and tips his chin to your left.

“Do you have business with my arm, sir?”

The shallow cut down Bakugou’s chest has started to scab, the one from your sword in the gardens. His only injury from last night and not because of his skill in a fight. You are battle weary, exhaustion holding your eyes in your head and healing magic draining the life from your heart to keep your arm intact. Shame roils.

Great galloping fuck, do you ever stop staring? You look through him under the doorframe with huge dim eyes.

“What help do you refuse?”

Whoever said that has said it much too sweetly Bakugou tisks, and you seem to agree because your otherwise tired face sets itself to stone. He pities the person that would speak to you like honey, his kamikaze captain, until he realizes you are looking only at him in an empty hallway and that syrup has dripped like drool from his lips.

“Is that all?”

He would be more upset with you if you were wrong. If he hadn’t actually run out of things to say and couldn’t only focus on staying upright after a night with no sleep.

He sounds like fucking Kirishima. The same shithead who started to cry after cornering a loose-lipped Deku outside of Aizawa’s interrogation office. He might have blubbered on for hours about your injuries if Bakugou didn’t send him on a chore to collect breakfast.

The hospital you must have escaped from healed your wounds but missed more than a few patches of dark blood crusted up your neck and into your hair, and then Bakugou remembers he didn’t come here to stare. Every day of tutoring and diplomacy, every shouting match, every spar, every fist fight is failing him. What did he come here to say?

“Don’t be stubborn.” Not that.

“Is that an order?”

Takoba has sucked the soul from your eyes, day by day. They should be filled with fire. He distinctly remembers fire, but today you hang in the doorway without a weapon and just wait for him to leave. Speak too quickly for him to think. You can’t even stare at him right anymore and it’s pissing him off.

You look like shit, he considers grunting, you smell worse. You gray my fucking hair, run away home. Go die for someone else. The broad prince shuffles his tongue over his teeth when vitriol doesn’t find its way from his mouth and while the pair of you watch each other too close in this cold hallway something so much worse sneaks out.

“It is.”

He wants to spit the second the sounds leave his mouth.

“Yes, sir.”

And immediately the word ripples his skin from his bones, his sinews try to tear from his body every time you utter it and he knows now that you do it on purpose. Before Bakugou can recover and growl and kick his way through this cursed castle out of your stoney company, you turn your back to him and wait without moving, “The knot, sir.”

It’s so much worse without your staring. To stand with you alone and out of his mind with exhaustion and for your eyes to be anywhere other than burning holes through his head.

How dare you. Bakugou vibrates as he watches unmarred knuckles reach forward in time to register that his own hand is going to touch you. Even injured, your posture is still perfect, unsettling, and it’s taken twenty years for the prince to realize that you’re no bigger than a sunflower. You carry yourself like a dragon through his castle but it would take two of your hands to cover one of his. And you thought you could kill the flame mage? You thought he was worth your Alderan life?

In the time between dreading the closeness and pinching the bow at your back in his fingers, Bakugou remembers his fury. All the senseless shit he meant to say in the gardens suffocates in the smoke hate tends.

You, who orders your soldiers like an old general and then refuses to eat with them. You who hunt and kill for the queen but stumble through professionalism when it comes time to look at him. Do you smile alone, in your room or with your master? Or is subservience a full time job?

You’ve pulled the tie free of its bow with your stupid struggling and now Bakugou needs both hands to pick at a knot too small for his fingers because you can’t ask for help. You want to die so badly? Do it out of eyesight.

He focuses for one second too long to keep his magic from spiking with his anger like a teenager and with that second he finally pulls the fucking ribbon loose and– and it’s bad.

It’s ugly. You’re not bleeding, they’ve closed you up, but black bruises reach from your shoulder so far down your back he has to blink away when his eyes follow the trail too quickly. The back of the gown begins to open. Turning bruises purple, a scar like tree sap creeps out from under your sleeve, up your neck and down your spin. The burn. A pink scar like sparks in his twilight library.

Shuzenji can only do so much with bruises but this welt? It looks too angry to touch cloth. She couldn’t put in some goddamned effort? You saved her useless queen for all she knows and she couldn’t spare a fucking second to put you back together again?

Creativity given too much platform by your silence, a much worse thought surfaces. Did you escape, or were you discharged half patched like this to make room for more important patients? Royal patients. Blood in your hair.

Bakugou spent fifteen Julys in this Takoban hellhole, every summer for diplomacy or training or vacation, or whatever the fuck his mom decided to call forced socialization that year. He might as well have spent all fifteen years in the hospital for all the trouble he got into by the sea. Pirates and sparring or krakens, whathave you. There was never a broken bone bad enough, a concussion so blinding that Shuzenji couldn’t fix it.

“I’m no god, Katsuki.” She’d murmur even when he was too dazed to hear properly. Always, always she reminded him. How long had it been? How did he forget? “I can only use what you give me. If I take too much you’ll die.”

Your room reeks of the sea even with the windows closed and blue infects its every inch. Even the steaming tub at the foot of your bed tinges green at its bronze lips.

“Highness.” Your voice is a call on the wind when Bakugou realizes how tight he’s still holding your ribbons. You are a subtle source of warmth kissing his knuckles in a cold corridor and he can’t get away from you fast enough. You turn. Your shoulders drop and your gown drops with them, your big eyes catch the corner of your face and where anyone else might be coy you look through him like a hound.

“Thank you.”

The sounds that comes out makes him feel like a hound. Like a bark, tch, “Fuck back off to the hospital.”

“Is that an order?”

Your beautiful golden prince spits at your feet and turns away down the hall.

You wouldn’t have gone back even under orders. You woke up in the surgery the second Shuzenji put her hands on you. Searing wet pain and a thousand stitches and where her magic used to feel bubbly, this night was just fire. Blue fire, Takoban fire.

You were the only collateral from the attack. It should have filled you with pride that you protected not only your prince, not only a queen, her heirs, her champions, and guards, but her entire castle. Still, alone in the hospital with a rum cloth jaw clenched to keep from screaming– in the seconds or hours it took to hammer you together again– liquor was a welcomed distraction from the taste of mageblood.

Shinsou was there in flashes looking over you on the table and then in a blink holding someone back from the door, red hair like Kirishima, and hatred like molten sugar spilled from your every sweating pore on the operating table. Where was he? Your prince’s Champion left him alone in a hostile country with only one guard and the incompetence of Takoba to keep him alive. If wrath could send letters, your Mitsuki would be inundated.

“C’mon miss martyr, head down please.” Uraraka’s smiling more than you’d like as she runs a sponge across your back. The bathwater is a touch too cold for you and still so hot that her arms have gone pink in the space where she’s rolled up her sleeves.

“I can wash myself.”

“Kats didn’t send me in here to watch a pretty girl wash blood out of her own hair,” the pink guard chuckles and you hate to waste this comfort filled with fury.

Before Shuzenji could wrap any part of you in bandages, a knock at the hospital door took her from attention. Shinsou had long disappeared so you slipped from the bed and through a door at the end of the room.

Footmen and maids balked as you whisked through the halls half-dressed and bloody. The guard stationed maddeningly at your bedroom door didn’t hesitate when you burst from the darkness and growled for hot water. You wouldn’t give your prince the satisfaction of sauntering through the castle nearly naked again but you had been stripped of your padding and armor, your weapons, and a generous serving of blood. The prince had to wait.

“I won’t really wash your hair if you don’t want me to,” Uraraka murmurs this time instead of laughing and you are back in safe company.

The smell of the sea makes you sick.

A change of clothes she brought for you from her soldiers' quarters lays nervously across your bed generally afraid to be worn. Rife with silver bits and baubles, limp where your Alderan uniform would be imposing. You’ll look like a doll and suddenly you’re angry all over again.

Uraraka is gentle when she rinses suds off your shoulders but the itch over the new skin there is deep and welcomed. The brush of Bakugou’s knuckles in the hallways left streams of goosebumps that still won’t fall and that you refuse to think about. Not his hands, never again.

“Do you like looking like this?”

Uraraka leans forward so you can see her expression and gestures vaguely to the room with her elbow, “Like what?”

“Like,” you slip your good arm over the edge of the bronze tub and water platters on rugs, “this.” You're both eyeing the Takoban uniform now.

“Do I like looking beautiful?”

“Like decoration.”

“I am decoration.”

Salt carries on a breeze through the room that persists even with the windows closed and your arm drops from the lip as you settle back down in your bath. That’s right. A few weeks away from home and suddenly you’re playing Royal Captain instead of war fodder, too good for a borrowed pair of greaves.

“Alderan uniforms are beautiful too,” the guard offers, but you rest your head a bit too limply in her hands as she brings water up your nape.

Your voice is tired, “Do you like giving orders?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“I like having a bed and sending money home to my parents.”

“Do you like fighting?”

“I do.”

Your queen is as fiery as her son, but did Jeanist have to tame her first? Or did she have to break him into a shape she liked to look at? Was it an honor? After hardly a month of travel together, Prince Bakugou had pulled up the edges of your identity like a bored child with cheap wallpaper. Fifteen years without so much as three words, then three weeks of torture and still somehow the thought of returning to Aldera where he won’t so much as growl towards your post makes your stomach ache. Where you will never be allowed to raise a weapon against him. Being decoration never bothered you before.

“I like free food and looking pretty,” Uraraka steadies her hand at the base of your neck and holds you tight, “I love my master, I love my friends, I love my city and my people. I miss my mom, I’m afraid to die, I can’t budget, I’ve never been in love,” her fingers pulse warm over your new skin, “I think I’m lucky.”

You think so too. You bring your knees closer in the water, “You look like a chandelier.”

Uraraka tilts your head gently towards the seashell uniform, smiling, “We look like chandeliers.” And then there’s a knock at the door. Your heart beats golden for a second.

“Y/n? Please tell me you’re in here.” Kirishima and his unmitigated gaul. Blood turns red again.

As you sit up properly, your pink guard shouts before you can find a weapon, “She’s in the bath!”

“Come back to the hospital, Y/n. Have you eaten? I brought breakfast, please can I come in?” Doors are made of shit driftwood here so you can hear his ragged breath even through the walls and gods, you start to sweat again.

You’re stiff, not bedridden. Your shoulders can roll again and a scar can’t keep you from raising a weapon, “You’d better arm yourself if you want to speak with me, Champion.”

“Y/n please–”

“Ei go eat without us!” Uraraka plants her hands on your shoulders when you draw your knees under yourself to keep you from rising fully, “Go on, it’s okay I’m here.”

You don’t like how slowly it sounds like he’s moving. Kirishima rests something on the floor with a click and then clears his throat, “I’ll– I’ll tell the others you’re okay.”

“You do that,” Uraraka chirps for you again. She rinses her hands in the water beside your ribs as awkward footsteps pad away from the room. You settle back down on your hips and long for hot water. “What’s your problem with the Champion?”

Your body is a rusted machine and it’s too hard to find words for your anger. Her Takoban Champion threw himself off of a cliff to save you. Your Champion ate dinner for a few hours too long instead presumably because he was staring at Lady Mina. An Alderan embarrassment. Another knock.

This one is much too loud and in no way enunciatory. Your door flies open this time with Bakugou attached to the knob.

“Shitty Hair!” He howls over the edge of the door and down the hallway, “Almost wore this breadbowl as a boot, pick up your motherfucking food!”

Uraraka’s hands go limp at your back and she must be staring as blankly as you are because your prince only looks normal– milky and ferocious– until he turns inside to speak. It’s almost endearing how quickly his shoulders and scowl drop into a look entirely foreign on his face as he takes in the scene in front of him.

The first thing you’ll do when you get home is have tea with Master Jeanist under your favorite Saturday tree and laugh over the many expressions of your hellfire prince, for he dearly loves to gossip. He thinks the Bakugous are the most beautiful family in the country, and he’s right, and it’s infuriating in a thousand ways.

The prince clears his throat, hand still tight on the doorknob, “I’m going to the sea.” And he speaks to the bed because something has stopped him from looking at you. The veins in his hands dance. The air might as well be frozen.

With one movement he blinks to the window over both of your heads and steps backwards into the hallway, door closed and absolutely uncharacteristically silent as morning air.

Uraraka’s knuckles crack when her fingers twitch but that’s the only movement or sound either of you are allowed before your door flies open one more time and Bakugou, fuming frowning and bursting with something to say, explodes inside again. This time one slippered foot is deep in a shepherd's pie. Not even your bathwater stirs. Not a single sound comes from his clenched teeth, not even when his lips part to speak.

Six and holding your hands, eleven and soaked in a fruit filled hallway, all grown up and full of hate, always making magic in the library.

“I can ride,” you spare him, and Bakugou manages to look at you for a beat, to stare with jeweled eyes, before closing the door again.

A faint smell of meat and potatoes permeates the fresh air even with a new pair of shoes on. Bakugou huffs in his saddle. Todoroki doesn’t notice. The Takoban prince is too busy tacking your horse while his grooms watch on nervously.

“Just let them do it for her, get on already.”

“Certainly not.”

He knows it’s pointless but he would still rather work himself to fury with feather-brained Todoroki than sit with the image of you. Propped up in the bath with your hair down, a huge handprint scar wrapped around your bicep.

“Almost finished.”

Bakugou agonizes at the pace, but as his airhead companion finally secures the billet strap under the chest of a mottled cream gelding, Uraraka leads you into the stable, knocking to announce your presence like that would do anything to dull the incessant shock of seeing you on two feet after just last night, wiping mageblood and tears from your cheeks.

You look insane. A black Alderan tunic you must have had tucked away somewhere and bright white Takoban riding pants. Blue strings poke off your hips at odd intervals like you’d ripped some of the baubles off but there are plenty more gems and silver seashells to catch the eye.

“Y/n,” Todoroki is animated when he says your name and Bakugou realizes he’s been staring. The Takoban prince rushes to meet you and your escort and crumples immediately to the ground.

Bakugou groans, head fully back, “Fucking– again? C’mon half n’ half, up.”

“Y/n, please accept my deepest apologies.” Todoroki always sort of sounds like he’s mumbling but this time he’s pressed his hands and face to the ground. You, with the quick wit, look between the prince and Uraraka at a loss for what to say. “You are a guest and to be injured on the grounds is unforgivable. The flame mage will be caught. Captain Hawks has returned and his men patrol the city at–”

“Y/n!” Another voice, this one less grating, booms through the open air. Kirishima rounds the corner, startling staff, and Bakugou’s no psychic but you don’t seem thrilled. His Champion rushes you– idiot– and stops just out of arm’s reach still in his bedclothes. He’s gotten more sleep than both of you combined but looks significantly shittier for it. “A soldier picked this out of rubble, I’m so sorry.” He opens his fist and perched in his soft hand like a pearl is your broach. White dragontooth. “We couldn’t find your halberd.”

There’s a moment of stillness for all involved, Todoroki on the ground, Kirishima and Uraraka beside you, before you turn sharp and stare directly at your prince. You are a painting. You’re always steadying an invisible weapon at your hip even in a nightgown, and where the fire in your eyes has died something hungry and possessive replaced it. Black like the ocean. Infinite. The jewelry in Bakugou’s ears begins to burn.

Todoroki raises his head curiously and muck and hay stick to his forehead. Groomsmen rush to wipe him off as you turn back and offer him a hand. Your bad hand, Bakugou notes from his high horse, and frowns with your next words to him. “Highness, please don’t muss yourself for me.”

One more movement after pulling Todoroki up, smooth like water– and it is so obvious that you are trained to kill– you pluck your broach out of Kirishima’s palm and fasten it to your chest as you spit at his feet.

Takoba is not endearing and Bakugou is on hour thirty-one without sleep. Everyone else might have forgotten but he surely hasn’t, the reason why Alderans are here at all. The observatory, a ball, the Takoban King and diplomatic relations. Bakugou sat through more meetings this month than the sum total of his life, in twinkling cold offices and throne rooms without fireplaces. Hardly time to breathe alone. He wraps his horse’s reins in his fingers in case he falls asleep with its canter over city cobblestones.

“Highness, there are too many blindspots.”

Bakugou opens his eyes with your words as he’s done for the whole afternoon, and frowns when he realizes for the thousandth time that you’re addressing Todoroki. The three of you ride at leisure down the central roads of the Takoban castletown. Every rocky step they take he looks forward to you, expecting this bump to be your last. Expecting you to finally slip sideways off your gelding in exhaustion like he so dearly would like to do. You don’t. You only bark at civilians to keep their distance or direct them away with tilts of your head. You are simply you again, riding tall and alert with no suggestion of the mage-eater you become in blue light. No hints that you have ever shed a tear in your life.

He shakes his head free of the thought. Citizens gawk, but generally don’t stop their errands to do anything more than watch as you all ride past.

“Astute. What do you recommend, Officer?”

Bakugou doesn’t need to open his eyes to know you hate being called an officer. He can hear it in the way you pause before responding, and then he growls through a laugh at the back of the caravan when you find the right words.

“I recommend not touring the town that potentially housed a fugitive.”

Todoroki probably planned this tour for Bakugou weeks ago, excited to show him all the developments to the city in the years he’s been away. He’s not one for change. Shinsou knocked him unconscious to keep him from fighting last night and the first thing the blue prince did upon waking from a terrorist attack was ask Bakugou to confirm today’s agenda.

“Is there a more private area included in this tour, Highness?”

“Yes.”

There’s a beat of silence and Bakugou snorts again.

“Could you please take us there?”

“Of course.”

The Takoban prince seems unaware of his dazzling presence as he guides his horse’s white head at a sharp turn to the west. Bakugou too, in his exhaustion, doesn’t realize how much attention he’s drawn from a city he’s so familiar with. A city so safe, its blue prince doesn’t need a guard.

“Oi,” you hiss on Bakugou’s other side and faster than he’s able to turn, you’re already pulling back on your reins to sidle around him. Your horse doesn’t seem the least bit disgruntled with the maneuver and flashes of consciousness pour between Bakugou’s eyes as he remembers bits of the night you arrived here, bleeding, begging. “Hands to yourself.”

Something pathetic like a dog whimpers below him and your prince peers over his thigh towards the cobblestones where a child is frozen between reaching out to touch his silver stirrup and staring in horror at you, a dark cloud behind them. The child, in modest warm clothes, backs away and flinches when your good arm jerks across your chest with your attention.

On his right, an older kid yelps and falls flat on his ass with two little hands clutching his head. Bakugou considers laughing out loud at this, husky and full of sleep; when he looks back at you, your hand hovers over your saddle’s grain bag and it becomes apparent you’ve walloped a child in the street with horse feed.

Everything feels insignificant when you’ve missed a night of sleep.

He has spent thirty one hours thinking of you. Watching you shoot, skipping lunch to hide, finding the words to speak to you. Being filled with so many things and then twisted excitement against your blade. Dread. Recounting your every step to one hundred officers. Searching for the hospital. Searching for your room.

You have spent those same thirty one hours awake, furious, burnt, bleeding, and then fully dressed on horseback. You are an exceptional guard. You are professional to a fault and it should drive him insane.

“You’re terrible with kids,” Bakugou rumbles as he rips a silver bauble off his vest and tosses it over his shoulder to the twerp flat on cobblestones.

You ride past him to follow Todoroki, “I manage you well enough.”

It doesn’t. Not even when you feign stoicism at the edge of the sea, not for a second. Because when Todoroki’s obnoxiously white horse leads the three of you past castle guards and down a private beaten path– under Bakugou’s favorite marble archway and out onto the beach, something hums in your black eyes.

It is the loveliest stretch of coast in the world, because it is protected by evil. On one side a steep grassy hill that bleeds into the marble castle, on the other, golden sand dotted with black volcanic rocks. The rocks tumble still and algaed into the blue sea, daring ships to beach there. Today the water rolls over itself in tiny frothing peaks as it does before a storm but the color is cold and charming and you have never been so close to the edge of the world before.

As your three horses trot onto soft sand, you turn your head to watch waves making their music and Bakugou can see your face outlined by the late sun. Your wide eyes. It will set soon. You are so much more adept than he is at hiding inside of yourself.

“The observatory,” Todoroki pipes up in the lead and points towards a white spire Bakugou’s never seen before, jutting like a mushroom off the side of the castle above you. In one movement, the blue prince dismounts from his horse and turns back towards you Alderans with another arm outstretched. “Come.”

Bakugou knows this beach. It’s broken his bones. He watches it every morning from his bedroom window.

Ahead of him the blue prince offers you his arm as you swing a leg over your saddle. Your body doesn’t hint to injury but you nod thankfully at the gesture and salt water rises in Bakugou’s throat.

“You were attacked in the old gardens last night,” Todoroki, standing too close, points up high towards the castle on the cliff, “All the way on the other side. The castle curves around the bend with the beach– although, it’s only cliff on that side.”

You stare as high as the sun will allow, “It’s a huge property.”

“Natural marble deposits in that cliff helped build the foundation. My family has lived here for hundreds of years.” Todoroki turns from your side and he is always so cluelessly pretty it’s irritating, to call out to Bakugou who’s frowning at the braids in his horse’s hair, “Katsuki did you k–”

But four syllables in and your prince is already waving his hand dismissively, “Fuck all the way off half n half. Give the Captain your shit tour guide speech and leave me out of it.”

So you follow Todoroki, who nods, to the edge of the sea.

“Whose garden was it?” You murmur in casual interrogation.

“My mother’s. A long time ago.”

Bakugou knows exactly what question you’re holding back and so does Todoroki, “The king,” he offers. You nod again. You can hide but you’re no liar. Something sours for just a second.

As Bakugou pulls a knapsack off his saddle to use as a pillow while the two of you splash about, you walk too slowly over the sand beside your tour guide and his first thought is injury until your lips part with timid breath. You move like a soldier, undeterred by uneven footing and fresh wounds, but you stare like a doe.

“Have you touched the sea before?”

You shake your head at the Takoban prince already a length ahead of you and tugging off his boots. The autumn air is warmed by the sun, but getting wet would make a miserably cold ride back.

“You should take off your shoes first,” he smiles. Bakugou spits over his shoulder and unsettles the horses.

You oblige the blue prince like you would any royal but you don’t do it quite so lifelessly as usual. Todoroki gives you his arm again for balance as you tug off one boot then another and bend at the waist to try and pull your pants legs away from the impending surf. You should look like a toddler, your prince should be laughing, but suddenly the sun has started to set and instead he realizes that somehow an entire day got away from him.

Bakugou formed his own opinions of the sea years ago, but he can’t remember the first time he saw it. Stepped foot in it. He reclines on the beach frowning, warm with sleep, and watches quietly.

You are mesmerized. Between black rocks you approach the water and stare. You bite your lip when you’re thinking this hard and the sun’s at just the right angle to reflect dancing shapes onto your chest. The frothing surf twinkles. It reaches for you with limp blue fingers. Two more times before you let it touch you and then your shoulders hitch.

Todoroki smiles, “Cold, isn’t it?”

“It’s alive.”

Do deer freeze in the first drops of a rainstorm? You aren’t made for the sea. You’re meant to hunt and make fires and sit under forest trees and eat plums in warm quarters. You shouldn’t have come.

Bakugou closes his eyes in the golden warmth and midnight pictures of you in the library come before sleep. Six years ago when curfew let up, you started eating alone in the library under the Great Oak and entirely ruining his time at peace to study wild magic. Sometimes you wore your uniform, sometimes a nightgown and cloak, and always he watched from the hallway above. Checking for the nights your guard assignments kept you posted elsewhere. The sight of you sores something in him.

“Y/n!”

Bakugou’s eyes fly open when the cool-headed Todoroki actually raises his voice and the first thing he dreads is a half-dead mage rising from the waves you threw him into. He’s already up on an elbow to rise, but the blue prince has raced through the shallow water to where it hits his hip and grabs your arm– your bad arm– again. You’re mid sea-strong stride and many meters farther out than before your prince closed his eyes. Your riding pants are fully gray with wet. What are you doing?

“I saw something.”

Todoroki urges you inland, “What?” But you shake your head.

Your body rocks with the rhythm of strong tides like you’re dancing. Waves roll gently through you from the left and right and even with your back turned to him, Bakugou knows exactly what kind of face you’re making. What did you see? He was right this morning and cocky this afternoon, you should be in the hospital.

“You’re not strong enough for the tides, Y/n,” Todoroki starts, and your prince also knows a lecture from anyone other than your queen is going to whistle right through those fucking ears, “The shallows drop out just past that break, and you’ll exhaust yourself before the rip current releases you.”

Bakugou can see the scene play out like a script. You’ll acquiesce for no more reason than the Takoban prince outranks you, but before you do as you always have, sunset catches the corner of your face and something bright blinks in the blacks of your eyes. Something like candlelight.

“I’m alright, Highness.”

Bakugou twitches.

“You’re injured.”

It’s just a second you take to glance over your shoulder across the horizon and in that second both eyes blaze redhot like they’ve eaten your candles whole and die black again just as quickly. You nod, “Yes sir,” and accept the guidance of Todoroki’s arm back towards the shore while Bakugou watches propped on a tense bicep, studying his ache. You are a nightmare.

A nightmare the sea wants to swallow, because as you’re led to shallow water two waves meet and a new break forms behind your thighs. The strength of the sea kicks yours and the Takoban prince’s feet uneven in the sand and the pair of you are sent backward a step and then forward by the hips into a beaching wave. In the setting sun the sea grows darker.

You resurface in just a second from clam shell surf silent and wide eyed, but Bakugou is already up. He should be laughing, especially as Todoroki rises from the water with a halo of foam blinking just as dumbfounded next to you. Seawater drips from your lips.

“We are certainly not swimming now.”

And something entirely new happens. On your knees, soaked through, you stare at the blue prince for a beat and then drop your head back in laughter. Your tunic clings helplessly to the curves of your chest, shaking and expanding with your breath. The sound is starlight. Another wave, smaller, climbs over your shoulder while you sit in the surf and washes over your head. Your hair is made of seashells.

“You’ll get sick!” Snorting on water now, Todoroki tries to help you up but the receding tide sucks sand out from under you both, knocking you gently into one another, giggling together, and doused again. The sunset frames your wide grin. You are no longer in the library, in fact you are nowhere to be found.

“Give me your hand.”

The corners of your eyes are red from salt and crinkled with a smile when you tilt your head up towards Bakugou in the pinking sunset, wet to his knees above you with a strong arm outstretched. You shiver. You without magic. You with nine lives. Him staring at your seashell crown through messy blond hair.

He draws breath through bared teeth. It’s an ill joined feeling, how quickly your new smile drops, how quickly the stars hang themselves back up in the sky at the sight of him. You aren’t a doe, you’re a dragon. Quiet pertinacity bleeds black from you into the sea.

“You’ll ruin your pants, sir.”

And he’s no longer sure he could stop you from anything without killing you first.

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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @dilftaros @nonomesupposedto @zombiewarprincess @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @eirlysian @lunrai @km7474 @arayoflia @annoyingleftpinky @noomaisdone @cr33pycrawler @iced-chai-tea-latte @cathwritestragediesnotsins @tragicallygray @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @kiwifuji @mmmaackerel @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @dududubebo @falling4fandoms @katanaski @babitchsuki @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @madmayo @bakugouswh0r3 @heart-of-haunt @zukowantshishonourback @420mitskilover @ultracrii @nochuonii @carrobrumbrum @bkgthinker @chandiewashere @sleezy-axeriix @screechingdreameater @mecuryxmoonstone @onlysarcasm @ilovemushroomss @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @1astr0id1 @thebluespacecow @mizzfizz @king-shimura @butterscotch-ripple-icecream

couldn't tag for some reason :,( pls check your security settings!

#even in bkg's pov he still calls himself your prince #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha #mha #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #fantasy au #royal au #a hymn to black water

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Note

Hello lovely human!

since i am a part of mostly GhostXHelen, for #mmvalentinesevent i was wondering if i could request Simon and Helen but them at home having a good time in his big bed in Manchester that she loves so much? You might remember me from the previous ask when i asked if we would ever get that so... i was wondering if this would be a good opportunity to request it :') i fell into the domestic hole with the rest of people here it seems and i can't help myself, but if you rather not then it's totally okay ^w^

of course! i’m going to answer this more as bullet points — just because it’s more rambling thoughts than a plot, hope that’s okay ☺️

simon ghost riley x f!reader (helen!reader)

fluffy headcanons re: his super king bed

the first time he invites her to stay, he shows her where to put her bag. her body coming to a halt at the sight of it. because outside of plush hotel rooms, she’s never seen one that size. her eyes widening towards him, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his head. because simon owns a super king bed and has kept it a secret. it’s plush, the bedsheets as expensive as the mattress. there’s more pillows than she thought he’d own.

“you tested it out, the mattress?” “i’ve slept in it.” “but, have you tested it?” “no, helen. i’ve not fucked someone in my bed.”

they change that. over and over again. her muscles sagging into the mattress after her shower, damp hair against his pillows.

“it’s a nice bed.” “most expensive thing i’ve ever bought.”

she could believe it. the rest of his place minimal, not to the highest spec. his television in his living room good enough, but not the best. no console or gadgets, no expensive leather sofa, but a worn fabric one she suspects he’s always owned. but his bed…

he’d later tell her it’s all he wanted when he got off the plane. that if he wasn’t fighting for something, he wanted to be sleeping in something good. something which wouldn’t be willing to let him go with ease.

helen sleeps in more than he does. her body clock adjusting the moment her skin meets british air—his mattress has something to do with it. it hugging her, making all of the aches and pains feel less.

mostly, she can stretch out. even when he’s next to her. the space between them large, expansive. so when her leg stretches out as sleep lessens it’s hold, she’s not surprised she doesn’t brush against him. her arm able to fully extend, it taking a second for her lashes to lift, to see his side empty.

she almost rises, almost gets up to go find him. seek out coffee and something to eat, but it’s just so nice to not have anywhere pressing to be. to not feel the uncomfortableness of a cot or the springs of her base bed. the sheets soft, comfortable—fucking expensive. the pillows full of feathers…

so she doesn’t, she turns her head to the cold side, eyes growing heavy, and she lets sleep take her.

“i think you’re only with me for my bed.” “what gave you that idea,” she winks.

he’s used to waking up to space, but he’s not used to waking up to space and her. her face turned towards him on the pillow, peace etched into her features—his muscles relaxing at the sight of her.

since he was little, he’s never been able to fall back asleep once he’s awake. it takes hours, most of the day, before he could feel tired again. if she weren’t here, he’d get up, exercise, stretch—drink cups of coffee like they’re water.

instead, he slides across the mattress, feeling her warmth enveloping around him. she doesn’t even stir when he brushes his fingers over her cheek. but her leg does slide over his, the softest murmur leaving her lips. he doesn’t want to wake her, just wants to feel her—show himself the evidence that she’s really here.

his head lying back down on the pillow, palm pressed against her cheek as his thumbs draws the laziest lines. his eyes slowly closing, feeling sleep sliding it’s fingers over him, taking him back under. the softest smile on his face as he does.

#mm valentines event #mmvalentinesevent #ghost x helen #simon x helen #cod ghost x reader #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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liquid-luck-00 · 2 months

Text

Red Binding 3

Maribat March Day 3: Butterfly

@maribat-calendar-events @maribatserver

First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

There was never a day to relax. Everyday brought on more and more studies, text, incantations, and even bruises. Yet she was happier than she could ever remember. She had started to learn the language used in the Order, which greatly improved her relationship with Su-Han, who was appointed her mentor. But that wasn’t the only language she had learned. Those chosen by Kwamii, were of any and every race and culture. So she picked up other languages, ranging from English and Spanish to Arabic and Swahili. Overall she learned about a dozen languages over the six months she was here.

"Guardian Yùnqì." The familiar voice of Su-Han caught her attention in the quiet library.

"Guardian Kuí." She turned towards her teacher, with a slight bow of her head. "I hope the day has been well to you."

"It has." Was his response, yet Marinette noticed his shift in his mood. His usual calm stoicism was replaced by a simmering anger just under the surface.

"Su-Han." She whispered breaking him from his growing stupor.

"I do not know how this happened, yet it has been decreed." His usually intimidating posture sagged slightly. "As of today, you shall begin to prepare for the Renewal Ceremony."

"Is that a bad thing?" Her genuine curiosity on display.

"Follow me."

She stood, leaving the books on a cart, so they would be returned to their place, and followed behind her teacher.

They took a passage that led close to the Supreme’s chamber but took a turn, one she never had reason to go down. They continued down, further and further, to a point that she wondered just how deep they were in the mountian. Soon after they came to a stop. There was a a door, no taller than three meters, and carved into the wood was a symbol she has seen countless times.

A Yin and Yang.

Inside the room was a pool of steaming water, she watched as the pool ebbed and flowed with its own tide. The crystaline torches provided such clear light that rainbows danced around the room, splitting farther on each crystal it touched. But her focus was once again on the pool of water. The water itself was such a deep blue it was a true Indigo. But the water glowed unnaturally a purple that seem to distort the cavern. It made her skin crawl, it wasn't a dark purple like Lavender, or even a soft purple like Wisteria. No this was closer to a Nightshade.

Reflexively she took a step back from the water and it's rising steam.

"You do well to be cautious." Su-Han nodded.

"What is this?" She asked, stating the obvious. "There is a heavy concentration of Magic."

"Very good, this is the Spring of Creation, also known as the Pool of Ambrosia."

"Like the elixir of the gods?"

At this Su-Han laughed, well it was more of a chuckle.

"This pool is where that name originated from. You see anyone who either drinks or bathes in the waters will have an extended life. However all magic has its cost. This pool belongs to Tikki, the Kwamii who has chosen you as its guardian."

"What does this have to do with the ceremony?"

Marinette asked watching her teacher closely.

"The ceremony is simple, whenever there is a chosen of the jewels of either creation or destruction, that chosen will perform a ritual. Water from both pools will be poured into one another revitalizing and balancing both."

"Why would they need to be balanced?" She couldn't help and ask.

At the Su-Han simply placed his hand on top of her head.

"For destruction cannot exist without creation, and creation cannot exist without destruction. You are to help balance them, ensuring that if any magic is used, it would be restored." At this he seemed more apprehensive. "You my child are still young, you should not be burdened with having to do this."

"Well it doesn’t seem that hard." She shrugged, because it didn’t.

Carrying maybe a pitcher of water from one location to another wasn’t that difficult at all. So why is he making it seem like she’s walking into a trap.

"You’re right. The ritual itself is quite simple, however the location of the Well of Destruction, is… "

"It can’t be that bad." She crossed her arms, making herself look more confident, and made a joke. "It’s not like they’re in hell."

"They might as well be." She blinked to his response not knowing if he was joking or not, yet the man never joked.

"In sending you there, I have all but signed your life to death. The Pits of Lazarus are held in the inner sanctuary of the League of Shadows, whoane move commonly known as the League of Assassins."

"I’m sorry what?" She took a step back, almost reflexively.

"There is actually a group of people who call themselves the League of Assassins?" That act was both incredulous and absurd at the same time.

"There is, and unfortunately the head of the organization is not only a very cruel man, but he also knows of your existence, Marinette."

That wasn’t exactly what she was expecting.

First off why would someone so evil be the ones who are tasked with guarding such a place. Secondly, how is it that they know of her? The third reason however was what stuck to the most, the fact that Su-Han referred to her by her name, not her title, not as his apprentice, not the most endearing term he ever gives her of my child, no he referred to baher given name. This is the first time he had done so , which put a new kind of weight on her shoulders.

"can the ceremony be postpond? And if not how much time do I have to prepare?"

"You will be expected to arrive the night before the next new moon. You shall be accompanied by an instructor, and will be there for day over a fortnight."

"Are you saying I have to stay there for two weeks, 14 days, in a place filled to the brim with assassins?"

"That is correct." It was the first time she ever saw him expresses any sort of emotion, the first time she ever saw him shed a tear.

And she was absolutely mortified.

The silence mi's had streaked too long, as Tikki's voice chimed into mind urging her. Marinette, you need to answer.

She dug her heels in, straightened her posture, and took a breath, grounding her self removing everything except for what she needed to do from her mind. "If it has to be done, it’s my duty as the Guardian Yùnqì."

"I do not know if your determination is a result of you finally coming into your own, or if it is simply a façade at the moment. I can still see you as the small child who fell into the courtyard, now your wings only begin to show. I feel your metamorphosis may be close my little caterpillar. Now." He stiffened and went back to his usual self, his momentary lapse in emotion buried yet again. "Tikki would be best to guide you, as she knows where the tomes are for the ceremony."

"I don’t think I can do this Tikki." Marinette ran her

hands down her face as soon as he left the cavern.

If anyone can, you can, comeon Marinette."

Tikki floated around her before floaty at her eye level.

"I’m going to be with people who think it’s drag to kill. I’m either going to be walking on egg shells or under constant supervision, more than likely both. Mari started to pace getting further from the magical water.

"And so long as you can harness my magic, no shadow can touch you. You hold so much power, you have yet to even comprehend. You are going to be the next Grand Guardian."

"That’s if I survive this!"

"Not if, when."

"They can snuff me out if they want it. No harder than it would be to blow out a candle."

"Yes, but just like the Kuì said, you have changed so much. Mari, you have knowledge that took others decades to learn and even master. The progress gained in your studies: language, spells, rituals, defensive combat and magics. You are a child of miraculous, you are creation."

"I don’t know if I can ever truly be the grand Guardian Tikki." She all but dismissed.

Marinette extended her hand towards the Kwamii who sat in her palm.

"I am not brave, and I’m not a good fighter, and my magic is more aligned with healing."

"You are so much more." Tikki flew up to cup her cheek, giving her a hug. "You are perfect Marinette, you just lack a bit of confidence."

"It’s not like I can manifest it overnight Tikki." A small joke made its way to her lips.

"No you can’t my- little bug, but once you do, you will be an unstoppable once my little bug, but once you do you will be a butterfly."

"Everyone expects so much of me, and I don’t see it."

"It doesn’t matter if you’re walking into a room filled with guardians in training, or mountain full of assassins, remember creation did n't simply make flowers, creation also created the poisons that bloom from them." Sometimes she forgets, Tikki may be kind and gentle 98% of the time, but she is also terrifying.

"Destruction can’t exist without creation." She repeated those words, they were having a bit more understanding of them.

She took a deep breath and started to plan. A mental list formed of things that need to be done before she had to set off towards this mountain full of shadows.

"Let’s go get the to me, we can study it in the room, but before that I think it’s time to start training with the guardian Shun’itsu."

the little goddess smiled at her before disappearing from this plane once more.

You’re on the right track bug.

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @jennifer-rose123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @joydone07 @mizzy-pop @starling218 @crystalqueertea

#Maribat March 2024 #maribat #Mari you are stronger than you think you are you just need a confidence boost #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #dc x miraculous #miraculous x dc #maribat marinette #maribat su-han #maribat tikki

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 10 months

Text

Love Song for a Vampire Pt. 32

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x Wolf!Reader, Jacob Black x OC!Witch

Warnings:none

Words:2144

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39

Bright and early, you leave your house to check on Evita. Sam had told you making just one of those wards had drained her of all energy. Just one. And there was so many more she needed to make in order to protect the borders of La Push and Forks.

Evita sat out on Sam’s front porch, a mug in her hands that had ribbons of rising steam trailing from it. Her face was pale, too pale opposed to her usual tan complexion. But her eyes when they flick to you are still alive and observant. A hair band pushed away her tightly wound curls to show off the pale pink scars on her face. “Good morning (y/n).”

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” You ask and sit on the front steps, angling your body toward her since there was only one chair on the porch.

She sighs and leans back, her shoulders sagging. “It’s taking a lot longer to recover my energy. I was hoping I’d be able to make another ward today, but I don’t think I’ll be up for it.”

“Sam said you had a friend coming.”

With a hum, she nods. “Yes. But I don’t know when he’ll be here. He’s constantly on the move. Most of the time he doesn’t have cellular service.” Her fingers tap against her mug. “I didn’t know it would take that much out of me. I’m not the strongest witch out there, but I’m fairly competent. I’ve seen my mother make wards before but mainly for our home. Nothing for a large reach of land. Times like these I wish she was here or even Leti. Leti was the most talented of our whole family. That’s why Xiomara saw her as a threat.”

She really hadn’t had time to mourn her sister. Now she was far away from any kind of family and help. You admire her tenacity. How strong she was even though Evita couldn’t have been much older than you. You think of your parents and how relieved they were when they saw you last night. Constantly making them worry about your wellbeing. Not even being with Edward had soothed them. Was Evita’s mom equally worried about her young daughter all alone?

”By the way,” Evita takes a sip from her mug before she proceeds “who was that girl yesterday? I don’t think I was introduced to her before.”

You knew who she meant. “That was Bella Swan.”

One thick eyebrow arches in intrigue. “TheBella Swan?”

“The one and only.”

You catch the space of skin between her brows crease. “Interesting. In a room crowded with wolves, I sensed her above them all.”

“What do you mean?”

Evita pauses for a few breaths to mull her words over in her head. “Hmmm, I should I put this. . . People, whether they be human or something else all have an aura. In the state that overcomes me when I’m performing my craft, my ability to see them intensifies. And you said Edward had never been able to read her thoughts?”

Affirmatively you nod wondering what this was leading to.

“That kind of aura,well, many magic welders have one just like her’s.”

“You’re saying Bella is a witch?”

“She’d have to practice at it, but yes she does have the capability of being a witch.” Her drink depleted, Evita sets it down next to one of the legs of the deck chair. Fixedly she looks at you, shooting you unspoken words that you read loud and clear.

Pursing your lips, you lean back against the stair rail. “Can she learn fast?”

“Normally I would say no.” Admits Evita. “But it’s not that often a human is naturally immune to a vampire’s power.” Her fingers tighten around a small jar that hung off her neck, caged in silver wire and strung with rope. You remember her making it. It protected her thoughts from Edward and other prying minds. She'd made it when she found out Edward could read everyone's thoughts except for Bella's and now your own.

Letting out a small sigh, Evita picks her mug back up and stands. You follow suit. "I need to get my strength back as soon as possible." She taps the mug. "This tea helps. I've already had three cups of it."

"Is there anything the pack can do in the meantime?" You ask her.

Evita's face glows and with her free hand, she holds your hand for a moment. "Spend time with your vampire now that you have him. Take this opportunity to bond before chaos ensues."

While she had spoken lightly as it was meant to cheer you, you couldn't help the shadow of worry cast over you at her last words. Foreboding of times to come.

Evita was to wait for her friend to arrive before she even entertained the idea of training Bella. She was no teacher and wouldn't even know where to begin with such a daunting task. She said his name was Dieufel and he was older than Letizia by three years. Still relatively young, but Dieufel was extremely talented and had traveled around the world to gain knowledge of all the known magicks out there. Dieufel called Haiti his home and had been there the last time Evita heard from him. That was a while ago.

While Dieufel wasn't the only magic wielder Evita knew, she was much more familiar with him since Letizia had gone on a few trips with him through the years of their acquaintanceship. "After yesterday though, I realize we'll need more people on deck to make the other wards."

“We’ll get them. Carlisle and Jasper are already on the road to get more vampires on our side.” You assure her. “And Edward texted me this morning that Alice also left last night too.”

“I hope they find success.” Evita smiles.

You left so Evita could get more rest and head back down the road. When you got home, you planned on suggesting a day for your date. Even thinking about it made you smile like a fool. While you wished you could go out on your first date right then and there, you couldn’t. You had to finish your summer school work before you academically fail even more. Not even werewolves could escape school.

Passing by the Black house, you notice Bella’s car pulling into the gravel driveway. This was the most you’d ever seen of Bella. Even when the vampires and wolves had been training together.

She hops out of the driver’s side and waves to you.

You wave back and anxiously eye Jacob’s garage where he always was when wolf duties didn’t pull him away.

Did Jacob tell her about imprinting on Evita? You wish you’d gone to check on him first before Evita. Internally you curse yourself for being a bad friend.

“You and Jake hanging out today?” You ask her, doing your best to be polite.

“Actually I wanted to see how Evita was doing.” She rubs anxiously at her arm despite the weather not being chilly at all. “Yesterday was really intense.”

“I think Evita would appreciate it.” You smile. Would Bella be happy about potentially being a witch? It could be a burden for her, something else to remind her of how her life has been tossed around by the world Edward and you live in. She would never have been privy to it prior to her life in Forks. There had been no fear of actual vampires walking on the same streets she walked. “I just came back from there. I think she wanted to talk to you too.”

Relief smoothed out the nervous lines on her face and she really smiles.

It was unwise though for Jacob to be anywhere near Evita right now. Evita didn’t need another situation on her plate.

You open your mouth, prepared to offer to take her to Sam’s yourself, when Jacob pops out of the garage with his house keys in his hands. He froze when he finds you there standing right next to Bella. Being friends for over a decade, you knew each of Jacob’s facial expressions and what they meant. His was one of guilt. You didn’t want to admonish him in front of Bella in case he hadn’t told her yet. But you definitely didn’t want him to go to Sam’s, especially if the alpha wasn’t their to monitor him and Evita.

“You guys might have to postpone your visit though. Evita’s still pretty tired and was going back to sleep when I left.” You smoothly explain, regretting the lie when you saw Bella’s look of disappointment.

“Oh, okay. Guess we’ll do a rain check.” Bella nonetheless smiles at you and is about to go back to her car when Jacob cut in.

“It’ll only be for a few minutes.”

Uh oh. You were wondering when his adolescent wolf brain would kick in. “She was pretty exhausted Jake. Plus Sam’s not there right now.”

You were getting in the way of him and his mate and his stupid testosterone was making him act irrationally.

Jacob’s jaw ticked.

Overly aware of Bella being so close to him, you slowly side step closer to her in case he did explode. She didn’t know what was going on; why Jacob had suddenly turned feral.

“She’s okay Jake.” You don’t pull your eyes away from his. “Everything’s fine. Let her sleep. It’s no use going if she’s sleeping.”

You nudge Bella’s arm, indicating for her to shift behind you and start to slowly move to her car.

Don’t do anything stupid you idiot. You think to yourself, unable to shout it at him through pack telepathy.

“(y/n). . .” Bella whispers at your back. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him.” Well, if he wasn’t going to tell her now then you’d have to. “He’s just imprinted on Evita is all and is acting like a stupid male wolf.”

You saying it out loud snapped him of whatever stupor he had so quickly plummeted in.

“On Evita?” Bella breathes out shakily.

“Yes. And he’s acting irrationally because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.” You were tired of keeping the poor human in the dark. “Because he always wanted to imprint on you, Bella. But we don’t get the choice in that and we have to live with it and accommodate.”

Bella addresses Jacob “Is that why you didn’t tell me sooner? How long have you known?”

He glares at you for revealing everything to Bella when he wasn't ready. "Since the first day she got here."

"She doesn't know yet. It's best for her right now to focus on getting the wards up for protection. She doesn't need this imprinting mess impeding on her work." You remind him. "If you act like this in front of her, she'll definitely know something's up. So it's best if Jacob just stays away for the time being."

Now Bella knew Jacob had used her just to see Evita.

Chancing turning away from Jacob, you say to Bella in a softer tone "Evita really does want to meet you though. She said. . . She said you might be helpful to her."

The hurt on her face stalled for a moment. "Really?"

You nod. "If you feel like you need a wolf chaperone to go to Sam's, then I'd be happy to accompany you next time." While Bella hadn't shown any romantic attachment to Jacob (that you'd seen at least), you knew it might hurt losing another close person to imprinting.

You'd give her credit though as she took a deep breath and nods. "Thanks (y/n). I think I'll just go home for now. But can you call me tomorrow if Evita is ready?"

"Of course."

You and Jacob watch as she hastily drove off. Immediately Jacob verbally tore into you. Condemning you for telling her something that wasn't for you to tell. The news of his imprinting was something he should have announced when he was ready. But it was clear keeping this from Bella was the wrong choice. And you used that fact to snap back. He'd been the one who was inconsiderate to Bella's feelings. Of course this would be tough to tell her regardless.

By the end of it, both of you were trembling, your wolf threatening to come to the surface and snap actual deadly teeth against someone who had been one of your closest friends. For fear of an actual fight breaking out, you storm off to your house even though you wanted to go back and tussle with Jacob. You remind yourself how you were when you first imprinted on Edward. Such a confusing time but you'd found isolation the best way to come to terms with your new reality. Perhaps that was what Jacob needed too.

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#edward cullen fanfic #edward cullen fanfiction #edward cullen x reader #twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom

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hederasgarden · 2 years

Text

Need

Summary: He’s quiet, even when he’s fucking you. Paring: Driver x F!Reader Word Count: 600 Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Semi public sex over the hood of a car, PIV sex, reference to fingering with gloves and biting. A/N: For @hoe-on-the-range who lets me annoy her with all the Baby Goose talk. Enjoy the pure filth targeted at your kinks, bestie. Thank you @wildbornsiren for beta'ing.

He’s quiet, even when he’s fucking you. All you hear is the harsh sound of his breath in your ear as he fills you again and again. His body is curled over yours, pressing your chest into the hard metal of his classic muscle car. Your dress is rucked up and panties pulled aside just enough for him to have you. It’s sensory overload with the cool hood of the car against your cheek and the sharp bite of his jeans against the back of your thighs.

“Oh god,” you gasp, clenching around him.

When you try to rise up on your elbows he leans more of his weight on you and grabs your hip to thrust into you hard enough to make the car roll back. Your fingers curl into fists near your head and you moan when he yanks at the collar of your dress to give him access to your shoulder and neck. The feel of his teeth on your skin has you coming around his cock with a painful orgasm that rocks your whole body. It washes over you completely, robbing you of your breath.

He fucks you through it, his tongue replacing the sting of his teeth as he laves at the tender skin. You close your eyes, panting when he continues to fuck you until his hips finally still. He lifts off you and runs a hand down your back, pushing your dress up over the swell of your ass. Gently, he squeezes your sides and slips out of you. You don’t move, your body catching up with your brain as you come down from your high.

You hear the sound of his zipper and jolt at the feel of his gloved fingers dragging through your messy folds. He fucked you with those gloves on in the front seat of his car earlier, letting you straddle his lap and ride yourself to orgasm. After he withdraws his fingers, he tugs your underwear back in place and pulls your dress down. He helps you stand, watching you silently.

His staring unnerved your coworkers at the diner, but you learned over the years to decipher the looks men gave you. When they meant harm and when they didn't. Even though he was the latter, he still made you nervous enough to drop your fair share of dishes whenever you caught him watching. There is something overwhelming about being the sole focus of his interest. You crave it despite how anxious it could make you.

“You alright?” He asks quietly.

You nod, wrapping your arm around your middle. What he did to you felt good but now you’re left feeling a little unmoored. He steps into your space, settling a big hand against the side of your face and tilting your chin up. His kiss is achingly gentle and your lips part immediately to let his tongue into your mouth. It’s not passionate or hard like you expect, it’s meant to comfort and calm. You sigh into his mouth and sag against him as he holds you to his body.

He breaks the kiss but rests his forehead against yours. The word narrows to just the two of you and you stare into his intensely blue eyes. He smiles. “I should take you home. You have the early shift tomorrow.”

You nod, unsure how he knows your work schedule. Maybe that should bother you but it doesn’t. He makes you feel safe, protected, and that’s a rare thing.

“Alright,” you agree, turning your face up to kiss him again.

#driver x reader #drive movie #drive #baby goose #it's so dumb they never gave his character a name #ryan gosling

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saturngoldenchild · 2 years

Text

Astrology observations:

Today in honor of the hyyh era🥳 thank you guys for supporting my posts. I love it here.

one thing about Aquarius placements…they know everybody. I can confirm. I can assure you I know someone who knows someone who can get what you need done. They only got a few friends tho and their 3 friends are always mad confused on who all these people are. And they’re just like 😃 what u mean?? True social butterflies, the get along with everybody. I always think of Megan thee stallion and taehyung as examples. People have spoken about how Megan is friendly with everyone and it helped her career so much and Tae…that man ain’t got not shame he comes up to everyone.

Another thing I’ve noticed about air placements too…they’re gonna have fun. It doesn’t matter what’s going on, where they are, they’re gonna have a good time. “Oh we going grocery shopping?? Bet” they’re gonna have everyone laughing and enjoying that trip. Same with sag but them mfs always wanna be the funniest in the room 😑 it’s not that deep just be urself. If it’s a party Libra brings the drinks and helps everyone with their make up, Gemini tells the jokes, and Aquarius gives us a show.

A leo sun is going to be super shy n quiet until all the attention is on them lmao. I have this friend who never speaks like ever…give this boy the opportunity to tell a story

U cancer moon, rising, moon in the 1st bitches always looking like a Pixar movie baby. The cutest cheeks and eyes like they can’t hurt a fly.

Earth placements are hedonistic. They like nice things, they like luxury. They take a lot of life’s aspects seriously so whatever it is that makes them happy…They like to make good moments last very long. You already know what that means for an earth mars so I’m not even gonna type it 🙄

Libra risings will be thick. That’s it.

Fixed Venus people cant be subtle to save their life 😭😭 these mfs be so direct, when they like someone they like them and it’ll show whether intentional or not.

Cancer sun women can be the biggest gossipers omg they know everyone’s business

Every Pisces woman I’ve met has a very cute high pitched voice. They’re adorable. They will kill u if u try them.

Venus ruled suns so possessive 😭😭 they always look like they wish a bitch would try something like calm down. And this is with everything. One of my friends is a Taurus and they give the most nasty looks to anyone who bothers me😭 they’re so sweet until then…their whole demeanor changes. I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW HES MINE. NO HES MINE YOU NEED TO GIVE IT UUUUUUP

- sorry. Next.

NO HOLD ON. A mix of Virgo n Scorpio y’all are not safe either 👀 huffing n puffing over nothing

- now next

Earth mercury singers have a lot of vocal control. They also tend to preserve their voices very well, the older they get the better and more stable they sound.

The other day I went to a restaurant with my friends. A virgo, a Taurus, a Capricorn…argued on who pays for 5 minutes straight.

I know they say u match with the sign in ur 7th but y’all…😭😭 i can’t do a Virgo romantically. Or can I?????? All the ones I’ve met are fine. I’m conflicted. Y’all are too bossy.

Capricorns and Tauruses cannot be kept away from each other u can’t convince me otherwise. They’re the perfect match.

Water placements…😃 so when are we gonna talk about them friends u give therapy to just to ditch u after. CANCER/PISCES MOONS IM LOOKING STRAIGHT AT U.

Saturn square mars so blunt 😭 quick example: Tyler, the creator. Enough said.

Leo and Aquarius will always fangirl together and it’s the cutest thing. They can discuss a performance/ piece of art/ artist for hours.

One thing about Virgo, aqua, Gemini placements…if it’s not hard to understand they don’t get it 😭😭 thing is if doesn’t challenge them they either don’t put the brain cells to work or are just lazy about it.

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latelyanobsession · 1 year

Text

Crashing with Ghosts

summary on a dare billy's hauled you out to the old farley bros. farmstead just south of the roane county line. billy's got the camaro trunk packed and a cooler brimming with brewskis. this'll be the easiest couple hundred bucks he's made in a long time. stay the night in some rundown farmhouse? easy. and with you to keep him occupied? even easier. but will you last the night? you know all about this creepy place and when strange things start happening during your stay you can't help but get frazzled. but will billy believe it? or will you be stuck in this spooky predicament til sunrise with someone completely clueless to the supernatural?

warnings cursing, underage drinking, trespassing on private property, breaking and entering, smut, generic teenage shenanigans, supernatural phenomenon, fright and fear, descriptions of past violent acts

word count 5,049

note entry for @sparklingsin's spookinktobter writing challenge. loosely modeled after one of my favorite spooky time films, The Ghost and Mr. Chicken (1966).

included prompts:

car doesn’t start

“i dare you to go down there.”

trapped in a haunted house

“be brave for me, baby.”

praise kink

dirty talk

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

He said that he was taking you out for the weekend.

"On Halloween?" you asked.

He nodded smugly, taking the pillows from your hands and placing it in the trunk.

"Where are we going?" you pushed curiously, eyeing the sleeping bag, but no tent.

The Igloo cooler in the back seat. A loose convenience store bag of snacks next to it.

It couldn't be camping. Could it?

"You'll see," he said vaguely as you both got into the camaro, the engine starting, headlights flicking to life.

The drive was much longer than you expected.

It was far too dark to tell which direction he was taking you in, and these county roads were notorious for being poorly marked.

You had little idea where you were. But you knew that you had left Hawkins behind well over half an hour ago.

"Are you taking me to Timbuktu?" you mused impatiently, fingers tapping along the car windowsill.

He drummed his fingers along to the cassette he'd selected, eyes shooting over at you in a thinly veiled warning.

"We're almost there... Be patient." he hummed, the car slowing up to a dirt drive.

He pulled in. The gravel kicking up under the tires, clouds of dust forming large wakes as he sped down the road.

Pulling around a large bend, you finally saw a structure at the top of the rise.

You recognized it instantly but hoped your eyes were lying to you as the camaro pulled up to the overgrown lawn. A weathered sign at the edge of the yard dangling by one remaining hook.

FARLEY BROS. FARMS

— EST. 1894 —

"Billy why...?" you whined pitifully, your stomach flipping as the farmhouse came into full view.

"Two hundred bucks." he stated simply, "one night stay..."

"And maybe a little fun in between..." he looked over at you, tongue caught between his teeth in a sly grin as he shifted into park.

You eyed him anxiously, eyes flitting back out the windshield.

The house's peeling white paint glowing eerily in the moonlight. Its sagging porch beams reaching out to greet you.

You remembered the Farley Bros. farmstead, and not fondly.

You were out here once before with Betsy Pendergast when you were 12 years old on a soft June afternoon.

Betsy wanted to see if all the things that Larry Atwater had said about this place during lunch were true. And well... you couldn't just let her come all this way out here by herself.

It took you both nearly the whole afternoon to ride your bikes out this way. Having a small picnic and respite under the lopsided sycamore tree in the Farley's front yard before beginning.

Once you finally got inside the house with Betsy...? You saw all you needed to see. And you both ran, something tripping you up on your way out the door. You didn't look back to find out, but it felt like something was trying to grab you.

And keep you.

Billy tapped on the passenger's side window startling you. "Get your ass out and help me will ya?" he muttered, wandering back to the trunk.

You took a deep breath, hand on the door handle, you got out.

"Billy I don't think this is a good idea..." you reasoned, blocking the cooler so he couldn't move it.

He raised an eyebrow, "Oh no...?" he shouldered you aside and shoved the cooler into your arms.

"You think Old McDonald is still around?" he mocked, laughing.

"Billy... it's not funny." you stamped your foot a bit, dust kicking up underfoot as you followed him to the trunk.

Pulling out your packs, he strapped his on, and held yours out. Still fishing around for last minute items.

"Don't worry, no hick ghost's gonna get my girl..." he chuckled.

Slipping the straps reluctantly over your shoulders you secured your belongings.

"Billy please..." you pleaded, "this place... its...—". You didn't want to say it. You would sound so stupid if you said it.

"Haunted?" Billy finished, coming out of the trunk, flashlight eerily illuminating his face.

You shoved him.

"Stop it." you pouted.

"No?... No really. You believe that shit?" he pressed, wrapping his arms around you after shutting the trunk.

You cast your gaze to the ground. Avoiding answering.

"Hey..." he cooed, voice low and throaty.

You peeked up at him.

He smiled, teeth glinting.

"Be brave for me baby." he encouraged, stroking his hands up your arms.

You took another deep breath.

"Ok." you nodded, picking up the food and him the cooler.

Walking up the front stoop, you picked your way across the broken porch beams, the wood creaking under your feet as you made your way to the door.

Placing his hand on the knob, Billy turned and pushed.

The door didn't budge.

"Oh what a shame. It's locked?" you whined sarcastically, peering over his shoulder.

He tried again, giving the door a hefty shove.

Nothing.

"Guess we can't get in..." you prattled aloud, turning on your heels to leave.

He scruffed you, dragging you back by the collar of your jacket.

"Just means we gotta try another way..." he mused, hand heavily patting your shoulder.

You huffed in discontent.

He directed the both of you a few steps away down the side of the porch to look for a new way in when,

Creeeeeaaaaaak.

The front door opened.

You both exchanged a look.

He motioned for you to go first with a nod of his head.

You shook your head vigorously in response.

Over your dead body would you be the first one crossing that threshold.

Rollings his eyes, he hooked his hands under your armpits, wheeling you back towards the door.

"Billy, no!" you protested in the sharpest whisper you could muster, heels digging in for any support you could find.

Reaching the doorstep, you protectively threw your hands up as he thrust you towards your fate.

BAM!

The door slammed closed as you crashed against it.

"Damn...." Billy breathed in disappointment, "So close."

"Asshole." you grunted, crumpling to the ground.

Billy offered his hand, helping you up.

"Well I guess that way's out..." he commented dryly.

"Ya think?" you replied snidely.

He pursed his lips, shining his flashlight around, "What about that?"

You followed his beam to the edge of the porch. There was a set of steps leading around the side of the house.

Walking with him to the edge of the porch you found the steps led around to the yard... And down to a bulkhead.

Billy nudged the rusty padlock on the cellar doors with the toe of his boot. "This should break pretty easy..." he reasoned.

"Billy that's breaking and entering..." you reprimanded him.

"Nobody has lived here for like what... 50 years...? Would you relax." he criticized.

Bringing his heel down harshly, the old lock crumbled to pieces.

"Like I said... easy." Billy stated, lifting one door and then the other. The hinges groaning as they pivoted on their pins.

Shining the flashlight, the beams got caught up in swirling plumes of dust and thick curtains of spider's webs, not exposed to open air for decades.

"I dare you to go down there," Billy taunted, patting some dust off on his jeans.

"Why me?" you whined, eyes searching the dark for any sign of a workable light switch.

"You're a lady aren't you…?" Billy teased.

"I'm a coward first..." you stated. You weren't proud.

Looking around Billy spotted a splintered broom at the corner of the porch. He shoved it into your arms.

"Clear out the webs so we can get on with this will you?" he pressed a hand to the small of your back, ushering you towards the stairs below.

Gripping the broomstick tight, fractured wood digging into your palms you swatted away what you could reach, as Billy shined his light for you.

Leaning the broom against a nearby wall you came back to the stairs. "I think it's all good..." you called.

Billy tossed the sleeping bag at you, climbing down.

Handing you your flashlight, he looked around. "Yeah, probably as good as it gets from here..."

The basement was cramped.

Old leather trunks, crates, and various pieces of furniture were scattered throughout the space.

Underneath the sole window in the room, shoved against the fading brick, was a dusty workbench. Covered in tarnished hand tools from a bygone era.

"Do you see a switch anywhere?" Billy asked, sorting through some boxes on a shelf.

"Billy, I don't know if they had electricity... there weren't any power poles outside..." you swept your light across the walls hoping you were wrong.

"Score!" he called out.

"You found a switch?" you answered hopefully.

Coming up next to you with a large grin, he held up a musty bottle.

"Better. I found the old man's stash." he said triumphantly.

"Billy that shit will turn your insides out." you warned, finding the staircase.

He chuckled, tucking it under his arm. "These things only get better with age babe."

You shouldered the door open at the top of the stairs, pieces splintering off the bottom as it finally gave way.

You entered the kitchen.

You stilled, those memories hitting you. A chill settling under your skin as your eyes settled on the kitchen table.

It was still set. Empty plates and glasses waiting for a meal that would never be had.

"Are you coming?" Billy hollered at you from around the corner.

You jumped, turning to follow him into the parlor.

He was setting his things down, unpacking.

He saw the look on your face.

"What, you wanna go upstairs instead?" he pointed at the ceiling.

You shook your head furiously. You knew what happened upstairs.

The parlor was bad but the second floor was worse. You would have to make do.

Placing your pack on the floor your eyes met the broad sweeping brush strokes of burnished red color tinging the floorboards. Faded and oxidized but still recognizable for what it was.

Blood.

"Babe c'mon..." Billy complained, pulling you from your thoughts.

You laid down the foam sleeping pad as Billy shook out the sleeping bag on top of it. Quickly setting the pillows and blanket on as well.

The set up was modest, but it was typical of what you'd come to expect from Billy as he lifted the lid off the cooler and cracked a beer offering it to you after taking the first sip.

With a small huff you took the bottle and took a couple generous swigs as Billy opened his own. Tapping the neck of his bottle against yours he took a large gulp.

"So what's the deal with this place?" he asked, eyes wandering curiously as his eyes took in the floor for the first time.

"This place sure has all the locals worked up..." he started following the wide blood trail across the room, stopping in front of the Steinway piano.

He leaned in close, shining his flashlight on the keys. Bloody fingerprints stained and dancing across the ivories.

"It's even got you uptight..." he continued.

You watched him cautiously from your place. Not moving an inch, worried that even breathing could set off some evil chain reaction in this place.

"He killed his whole family...." you stated. Billy tilting his head up to look at you from the piano.

"Can you come back here.... please?" you asked, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He smirked softly, returning to you. "You scared?" he questioned, pulling you into his arms and kissing your temple.

"I hate this house." you complained.

"You could definitely hate it a little less..." he reasoned, a hand drawing small circles on your back, as he took another drink from his beer.

"Not possible." you whined, burrowing your face into his chest.

"I bet you could" he drawled, hooking a finger under your chin and drawing your eyes up to meet his.

You shook your head stubbornly.

"Do you want to try?”, he challenged, “For me?", finishing his drink and dropping the bottle to the wayside.

Your gaze didn't waver from his. Eyes locked and drowning under his prolonged stare. The firmness of his grasp grounding and comforting.

"I need an answer baby girl..." he teased, thumb running over the swell of your bottom lip.

"Yeah..." you breathed timidly.

He didn't hesitate. Capturing your lips in a searing kiss, knocking the bottle from your hand. Its contents spilling out across the floor.

Drawing you in close, he wrapped his hands in your jacket, ripping it from your shoulders.

Walking you backward, he lowered you onto the sleeping bag.

"Billy, it's cold." you whined.

"I know baby." he cooed, prying at the hem of your shirt. Lifting up and exposing your skin to the stale air. "I'll warm you up, don't worry about it..."

Rucking the material up higher, a chill ran up your spine as he pulled the shirt over your head.

Wrapping your hands in the cotton clinging to his chest, you pushed it feebly up and off his torso as he flicked the clasp on your jeans open, slipping you out of them. Your shoes tossed away haphazardly.

“You’re going too fast…” you criticized, fingers fumbling with his belt buckle.

“Catch up baby girl. You can do it…” he encouraged, picking up your beer and taking a long drink.

Lip pulled between your teeth in concentration, you focused. Fingers prying at the leather and pulling the latch free.

Finally.

A small smile of satisfaction as you nimbly unclasped his jeans, thumb and forefinger driving the zipper down. Hand reaching forward.

“Wait…” he tutted, tongue clicking in light condemnation.

You pouted, sad puppy eyes watching his expression for further instruction.

Finishing your beer he chuckled, tossing it carelessly.

“Don’t give me that look… you’ll like this. A lot.” He mocked you.

“On your side…” he instructed.

Giving a sharp exhale of annoyance, you positioned yourself, hips angled within his reach gaze, still fixed up at him.

“Good girl…” he petted your cheek softly, as he kicked off his boots, sliding out of his jeans, cock springing up to its full potential.

Wrapping a hand around himself, he leisurely pumped his hand across his growing length. Pausing at the turgid head, his thumb gathering up the precum escaping from its tip.

Painting your lips with it.

Instinctively you shot your tongue out, gliding it along your lip to taste the new gloss.

Closing the space between you, Billy stroked a finger along the underside of your cheekbone, the crown of his dick weighing lightly against your lips.

“C’mon pretty girl… show me what you’ve got.” he taunted as your lips parted.

You hummed softly at the feeling of his hefty member pressing against your tongue and filling your mouth. His breath sharp and catching as a hand entangled itself in your hair, pressing you forward and pushing himself deeper inside the cavern of your mouth.

“Ohhh that’s a good girl…” he rasped, tossing his head back with a shudder as his grip held you in place allowing him to thrust at his own pace into your slackening throat.

His thrusts were long and languid.

Drawing blood to his throbbing cock, muscle tightening and head swelling as you brushed your tongue flat against him on each outward stroke.

Breathing out to cheat your gag reflex each time he’d push further back and hold you there.

Your nose nearly touching his pelvis, his thighs trembling slightly as he pulled you back with a shaky, “Fuuuck, baby.” falling from his lips.

Bending down he ravished you. Lips hungrily crashing against yours as he pinned you down to the blankets.

Knocking your legs apart with his knees, he pushed his way in between them. Running a palm flat across the mound of your sex he looked up at you smugly, a thumb dipping between your folds. Flicking at that bundle of nerves growing more sensitive by the minute.

Your hips rolled as you lifted your head to look at him.

“I’m going to fuck you senseless…” he purred, “make you so dumb for my cock you’re not even gonna care where you are…”

He drew back and spat heavily on your core, fingers gathering the saliva and dragging them down through your already wetting folds.

“You wanna be fucked dumb baby?” he smirked, voice sweet and thumb running circles around your core. Teasingly pressing at your entrance but never delving inside.

“Yes.” you whined, hips shifting into his grasp.

“Such a nasty little girl…” he observed as you groaned, his middle finger finding its way inside you.

Ducking his head, his lips attached themselves to your mound. Sloppy kisses giving way to harsh, audible lapping as his tongue found its target. Your hips jerking under his heavy-handling.

His broad shoulders splaying your legs apart, he continued his assault. A second finger having snuck its way past your defenses, curling and pumping in tandem with the firm strokes of his tongue against your clit.

You could feel the tension building. The heated coil in the pit of your stomach winding. It wouldn’t be much longer.

“Billy I’m getting …. -” you whimpered, hips rutting against his tongue desperately.

BAM!

The loud thud came from the floor directly above you. Some dust shaking loose off the ceiling light fixture.

You both paused, waiting for more stirrings.

Silence settled back into the house.

You were beginning to look slightly panicked, as Billy curled his fingers harshly up against your upper walls calling your attention back to him.

“Hey…” he commanded sternly.

You met his azure stare, brows furrowed in concern.

“You’re ok baby. It’s an old house, some plaster probably fell or somethin…” he reasoned, fingers scissoring your channel wide.

“Relax baby…” you nodded shakily, laying back down as Billy’s tongue resumed its place. Wrapping around your bud and suckling. Fingers stroking heavily at the pad of flesh that made your toes curl.

“Billy….” you mewled softly, hand fisting in his curls as the heat grew. The edge was imminent. One more touch and you’d be falling to pieces.

Your pleas hitting his ears Billy’s pace was reaching a feverish pitch, his attentions becoming rough and demanding. Sloppy and gruff, as his teeth scraped and pulled at the hood protecting that pulsing and swollen nerve center from him.

You cried out, hips jutting involuntarily. Walls tightening around his fingers, threatening to snap them, as you fell apart.

“That’s it baby…such a good girl.” he encouraged. “But we’re not done…”

Letting you take a moment to catch your breath, he gave your ass a playful slap.

“Up baby.” he stated.

You nodded, rolling over, propping yourself up on your knees and elbows.

Billy gave a deep hum of appreciation, a hand coming down on your ass sharply.

“Gonna fuck this pussy until you scream my name.” he stated, with another smack.

Squaring up behind you, he teased his cock between your folds. Dousing himself in your slick.

Leaning flush over your back he leaned in close to your ear, “Gonna fuck your pussy raw baby… you better keep your focus on me.”

You whined, head lolling forward as he pushed himself inside of you. Sliding home and creating a sharp sting that ran up the base of your spine.

Pulling you close, Billy rocked himself into your tight heat.

“Fuck baby you’re always so good. So ready for me to fuck you. Take you like my personal fuck toy….” he droned, cock dragging out and rhythmically pressing back into you in deep slow strokes.

Still riding the aftershocks of your first climax, your fingers dug into the blanket. Each deep stroke of his cock sending tingling shockwaves through you and making you quiver.

“Billy….” you moaned out brokenly, eyes glassy.

“Yeah baby?” he groaned, with a short snap of his hips. Earning him a high yip from your lips. “You know where we are, baby? Still scared?”

You blinked, brain a bit hazy but far from useless. You knew exactly where you were. And you still hated this house.

Lowering down off your elbows you raised your ass up higher, peering over your shoulder at him.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “That so huh?” The remainder of the conversation going unspoken, as he drove into you harder. Faster. Hands gripping your hips roughly.

You keened loudly. Eyes snapping shut as his cock rammed your cervix.

“How’s that baby?” he pressed, curling himself over your form. Increasing his pace.

“Yes Billy!” you whined loudly, head snapping back against your shoulders.

His hand wrapped itself in your hair, pulling your head back, giving him greater purchase as he slammed his hips into yours. Pistoning himself in and out of you in a manner that was beginning to feel overwhelming.

His other hand was tucked around your waist. Snaking between your folds, rubbing at your clit.

You nearly sobbed, the pleasure overloading and clouding your thoughts.

“Baby where are you…?” Billy asked, thrusts not dropping for a moment.

You couldn’t answer. You weren’t even sure if you knew anymore. You just didn’t want him to stop.

“Baby…?” he drawled out in the lowest tone, “tell me…”

“D-dunno…” was all you could muster in between high rolling mewls and harsh broken moans.

Your body was trembling, muscles warning you of your impending climax, as that coil rewound itself. The pressure building up higher and higher.

“Billy… ‘m close!” you simpered pathetically, hips pressing back to meet his thrusts.

He growled deeply, index finger pressing circles harshly into your clit as he pushed his cock in to the hilt.

“Cum on my cock baby. Milk my cock…”

You fell apart, keening. Voice nearly cutting short.

Billy letting go of his grip on your hair to stabilize himself. Hand pressed to the ground above your head. Knuckles turning white, as he wrapped himself over top of you.

Buckling as your walls ebbed and contracted around him.

“Fuckin shit baby….” he rasped, thrusts faltering. Coming in short, remaining seated deep within you as he tumbled off his own ledge. His cock twitching as thick spurts of cum filled you.

You both collapsed, taking a moment to gather your breath before parting.

“You want another beer?” Billy offered.

You rolled over to look at him, still not quite able to speak. You shook your head.

Not yet.

Blinking slowly, tiredly. You rubbed at your eyes, as Billy got up finding all your discarded clothing.

Dropping your clothing near you, he got dressed.

“Gotta take a piss…” he said, zipping up his jeans. “Be right back.”

Taking deep breaths you slowly drifted back down to earth. And reality. The cold and dampness of the room twinging your skin.

Grabbing your clothes you got dressed hurriedly, hoping to shrug off the shivers continuously running up your spine.

Nearly done, shirt in hand you were about to pull it over your head when a cold hand raked itself down the nape of your neck. You wiggled uncomfortably. Whining childishly.

“Billy, it's not funny anymore…” you pouted.

“What’s not funny?” Billy answered, coming around the corner on the opposite side of the room.

You swallowed, turning slowly on your heels to look behind you.

Nothing.

You laughed nervously, “Maybe I will have another beer…”

Billy already had another one cracked, and a bag of Lays opened.

You took a long drink, nearly downing the whole bottle in one go.

“Woah, slow the fuck down!” Billy cautioned. “There’s plenty more…”

That’s not what you were concerned about.

Billy’s watch chirped.

12:00 AM.

Just then the piano started up. A steady jolly tune emanating from its frame.

The keys were dancing. Moving up and down. Shifting notes of their own accord, all without a player at the bench.

Each key marked in blood, sounding.

Your skin was pricked from head to toe in goosebumps. Your heart was thundering so loudly, you worried it might break free from your chest. You felt faint.

“What the fuck?” Billy exclaimed in disbelief.

“Billy I wanna leave… Now!” you begged.

Billy couldn’t believe his eyes, the tune coming to a crescendo as a vase rose off the end table and flew past him. Smashing into the wall.

“Maybe you’re right…” he muttered, ushering you out to the hallway.

You grabbed onto the back door and pulled. It wouldn’t budge. You shoved frantically, shoulder pressed against the wood, lifting the handle and twisting.

“Billy the door is locked!” you nearly yelled.

Stepping aside, you let him try. Sweat beginning to bead on his forehead as his grip slipped off the handle. A foot wedged against the wall as he tried again to wrench it open.

“What the hell is going on?!” he yelled, looking at you. Panic was beginning to rise in his voice.

“I told you, this place… It’s ––”

THUD. SHHHHHHHP. THUD. THUD.

Footsteps. Heavy. And the intermittent drop of something along with it. Something weighty. Something ominous.

“Billy we gotta get outta here!” you pushed, running to the dining room and tugging at a window pane. They were nailed shut.

“Move!” Billy shouted, kicking a thick boot at the glass. The window shattered.

Wrapping his hand in his denim jacket he smashed out the rest of the shards, handing you the denim.

“Start the car!” he instructed as he helped you through the sill first and onto the porch.

Tumbling out, you reached back for him only to have his hands pulled out of your grasp.

“Billy!” you screamed, as he disappeared back inside the house.

“The car!” you heard him yell from inside.

Jumping off the porch you ran down the drive to the camaro, throwing open the door and jamming the key into the ignition.

Brrrr Putt Putt Putt Brrrr

The engine sputtered and whirred, headlights flickering.

“C’mon dammit…” you pled, eyes flitting from the dash to the house and back.

The car continued to whine before completely puttering out.

“Son of a bitch!” you raged, hands beating the steering wheel.

Falling out of the car, you ran back towards the house.

You had to get him out of there. Even if you couldn’t get off the property.

You looked around, eyes spotting the old garden shed.

You kicked the door in, looking for anything helpful.

Grabbing a shovel. A remaining can of kerosene and some rags, you ran.

You returned through the broken window.

“Billy?!” you yelled.

The house was silent.

SCHWING!

You barely saw the glint of dull metal, ducking under the dining room table as an ax blade impacted the wall above you.

CRACK!

You screamed. The table absorbing a blow directly above your head.

CRACK CRACK!

The table was buckling, the woodgrain splitting under the abuse. You couldn’t hide here much longer.

WHAM!

The table split. Exposing you.

A large ghastly figure looming tall above you. You didn’t need to guess who it was you already knew.

It was Wilbur Farley. The man who killed his own brother. Who killed his entire family on August 12, 1938.

He was caked in blood. His face disfigured and gnarled by the self-inflicted wound he had imposed upon himself to remove himself from the world of the living and into the next.

Hands wrapping tightly around the ax handle, he swung it back, raising it high. Ready to deal your coup de grace.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks, as you gripped the shovel in your hands, lifting it as your last means of defense.

“Hey dipshit!” Billy slurred, stumbling into the room. “I wasn’t done with you yet…”

“Billy!” you sobbed in relief, eyes washing over his battered form.

Spitting the blood from his mouth, Billy dug his feet into the floor. Hands splayed wide. Stance ready.

“Come get me fucker.” he taunted.

Running straight at him, Wilbur Farley hit Billy dead on. Pushing him back through the room like a linebacker on a 4th down play. Billy’s feet scrambling for purchase on the dust covered rug and finding none.

His hands wrapped around Farley’s ax, Billy grappled with the monster. Being flung against the wall, his head denting the plaster as he slumped to the floor.

Running to Billy’s side you shook him. He was out cold.

Setting down the kerosene, you wielded the shovel.

“Hey ugly!” you yelled, grabbing the monster’s attention. “You ever fight fair, or have you always been a pussy?”

Farley tilted his head as if he was contemplating you insult, before he took a giant running swing at you.

You jumped back, slamming the ax down with your shovel and slicing up. Ramming him in the face with the shovel’s blade.

It sent him reeling backwards. Stunned. But not for long.

He was angry now.

Rushing you, he hit you square in the chest with the blunt side of the ax before you could react. You fell flat on your back gasping for air, the shovel thrown far from your grasp.

Reaching. Clutching. Grasping for anything you could put your hands on you felt the floor.

Nothing.

You were going to die.

Click.

“You really shouldn’t pick on girls…” Billy’s voice drawled out. “They got a funny way of getting even with you…”

Click.

He had lit a rag… dipped into the kerosene canister.

“Get your ass up…” he urged, as you clamored to your feet and ran.

Billy threw the tin, Farley catching it. Looking confused as the kerosene tipped out onto the rag, igniting.

Running to the dining room you jumped out the window, Billy finally climbing out after you, as you both flew down the path to the camaro. The windows to the hows blowing out with flames as the house became progressively engulfed.

Getting into the driver’s seat, Billy turned the keys the car whining. “C’mon baby you can do it….” he murmured.

The car whined and sputtered, whirring.

“C’mon baby….” he continued.

The engine turned over. Sparking to life.

“That’s a good girl.” he praised, pleasantly patting the dashboard.

You couldn’t believe it.

Billy looked at you, “What, you wanna stay and catch a charge?”

“No,” you pouted, coming around and sinking into the passenger’s seat.

The drive back to Hawkins was quiet.

“Billy?” you asked.

“Yeah?” he replied.

“Next year we’re watching a movie or I’ll kill you myself…” you mentioned.

“Deal” he snickered.

#strangertober #spookinktober writing challenge #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove oneshot

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justimajin · 8 months

Text

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 7

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ (2.9k), Office AU (lowkey E2L vibes)

↠ Summary: The workplace isn’t for everyone. It can be mundane and repetitive, with some describing it like a nuisance and others as a blessing. You’re the kind that leans more towards the latter and while it does make you an ideal candidate for many things, nothing could have prepared you for the whirlwind that is the new employee.

↠ A/N: This is bit of a shorter chapter, but I'll be posting again on Friday and promise the chapter will be longer.

GIF credit.

↠ Next Update: Friday, August 25 (series masterpost here)

Ten days, two weekends, dinner rush hours.

You deeply inhale, calculator in hand and pen quickly swirling down the numbers you conjugate. The thin sheet of paper before you has a dozen scribbles by now, mainly filled with multiplying your pay rate with hours of operation, followed by a bunch of addition of your combined shifts. Alongside this, hues of orange and pink flood your room as the sun rises and you’re dressed in business formal head to toe.

Punching in the final numbers, you cross your fingers.

The calculator spits out a number you’ve been crazily working for and your entire body sags, deflating against the chair.

It’s enough.

It’s enough by just a few numbers.

You’ll be able to pay this month’s rent.

The stress and tension has drained from your body, and you find your lids beginning to draw heavier, sleep granting you an invitation for your hard work.

But that’s when‒

“The landlord!”

You sit upright with a gasp, grabbing onto your bag and coat before hurrying out the door. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter if you have enough money for rent or not, not until you manage to actually pay the landlord and put it into writing.

Doing a double take on your watch, you should have enough time to pay the rent and head into work afterwards, granted this bus driver in front of you decides that he wants you to have a good day too.

You discover he somewhat shares those sentiments, about to close the doors on your face until you very graciously project a chain of kind words for him.

Grabbing on the seat on the bus, you wait until your stop is in sight, quickly bypassing the large crowd of people to head off.

Your heel click against the sidewalk and you spot his office, pushing against the door.

To say that your landlord is a very interesting person, would be an understatement.

At the most, he’s an elderly man that is a little persistent with demanding rent and not very surprisingly, isn’t the most understanding person. However when presented with the prospect of getting money, he turns into every single person you would expect.

A welcoming smile lines his lips and he gestures for you to step in, accepting your payment and printing out a receipt for you. He even takes the opportunity to ask about your younger sister and her well-being, ironically someone he wouldn’t have thought twice to kick out from his apartment complex.

“I wish you and Yuri the best.” He replied in his low voice, the smile on his features bothering you more than anything.

“It’s Yuna.” You mimic his smile, “And thank you for your concern.”

You left that place as fast as possible, not even turning back to hurry on to work.

A shiver runs down your spine.

There’s a chilling breeze outside that feels like it’s cutting through your skin, and every time the bus driver stops to open up the plastic doors, another gush of it enters and leaves you frozen to your toes. It doesn’t help that you’re stuck between multiple individuals, seemingly getting squished every time the lengthy vehicle jerks.

By the time you’re dropped off to your stop, a deep exhale of relief leaves your form. Regardless, there’s a brighter smile on your features this time around.

Things don’t seem as bright at the office.

You wonder why it’s like a similar wind storm had hit the place – employee’s either appearing to be working vigorously at their cubicles or pacing around and sending side glances with whispers to each other. You stand in the middle of the mayhem, left baffled from the display.

Treading carefully, you head towards your cubicle and get greeted to the sight of both of your coworkers repeating the same exact actions.

Hoseok turns first, “Y/N.”

He stares at you and Yoongi is beside him, seated in his cubicle.

“Hi…” You say, warily glancing around, “What’s going on?”

“Oh right, you don’t know!” Hoseok shifts over right as the epiphany strikes him. He lowers his tone, whispering into your ear, “Everyone’s preparing for the visit.”

The way Hoseok frames it is like some kind of ominous presence is about to enter the confines of your office and you stare at him perplexed.

“Don’t say it like that.” Yoongi interjects, sounding a tad bit more annoyed than usual.

He leans back in his chair, “The head of our department is coming by today.”

Your brows raise, “The CFO?”

Yoongi hums, “He’ll be here in an hour. That’s why everyone’s on edge.”

You sit down at your desk, “I see…”

“Why is he visiting after so long?” Hoseok ponders, glancing at Yoongi.

He shrugs, “Maybe he wants to criticizeemployees about their work again.”

“He’s not that bad, hyung.” Hoseok nervously laughs, “Plus not all of our superiors are like that.”

“Too many of them are,” Yoongi bluntly states, “and last time this CFO paid a visit, I remember a lot of criticism.”

Hoseok frowns, though you can still see the tinge of positivity trying to sneak out in the midst of Yoongi’s nonchalant facts.

Although you’d like to be as optimistic as him, there is a part of you agreeing with Yoongi. A sudden drop in for the department wasn’t normally a huge surprise, but often times these visits have typically stemmed from two factors – either there was a major issue that needed their immediate intervention, or simply because they were told they needed to connect to employee’s and staff in a more ‘positive’ manner (cue the notorious criticism here and there).

Besides, past experiences haven’t been the greatest and you’ve heard many rumors circulate around, you can only leave it up to imagination as to why the Chief Financial Officer is here.

He jams his finger into the elevator button.

Warily peering around, his foot taps against the ground anxiously, and he glances at the watch on his wrist, the many minutes slipping away from him.

In all honesty, Seokjin didn’t mean to be late today. In fact, ever since you established some concrete terms with him, he was able to work alongside you a lot better than before. It actually made him genuinely pour some effort into learning about work done in the office – but unfortunately, the traffic along the way didn’t have the same hindsight in mind for him.

There’s a lot of scenarios he’s imagining in his head towards your reaction from his tardiness – mainly the ones that aren’t so pleasant. He pushes the thoughts back into the corner of his mind, staring at the slowly descending numbers as the elevator takes its sweet time.

“Come on.” Seokjin whispers, foot tapping growing louder as he plants his hands against his hips. His pupils roam around as he idles, stare coming to an abrupt halt.

His eyes narrow for the briefest of moments. In a split-second, he actually considers it from all the scenarios playing in his mind.

It’s not long before his feet are moving away from the elevator and towards the door leading into the metallic steps.

After all, stairs are just like slower elevators, right?

But in the midst of his extremely deep internal contemplation, he doesn’t notice the man walking towards him from the other direction.

“Shoot – I’m so sorry!” He instantly reaches out for the person, but he slips right by him, muttering a quick ‘it’s alright’ before he can say anything else.

Seokjin’s steps falter, and for a moment, he freezes all together. The apologetic smile he once adorned falls, and he slowly turns around, staring in the direction of the staircase door the man entered in.

“No…” He whispers, squinting his eyes, “It can’t be…”

He shakes his head, snickering to himself, “Nah, why would he even be here?”

As his low laughter comes to an eventual halt, he doesn’t realize the elevator doors have already opened and are beginning to close.

His eyes immediately widen and he rushes towards them.

You raise your hands with a huff.

There’s a stack of papers within them that consists of documents for the next product that you had been meaning to get done while Seokjin wasn’t around. You were in the process of transporting them, but weren’t anticipating the elevator before you taking a decade.

Letting out a grateful sigh when it finally dings, you come face to face with the person you’re mentoring.

Seokjin’s mouth curves into a smile, “Y/N!”

You frown, “You’re late.”

“Okay, so I know that I am, but I have a really good excuse for it!” He begins, but his eyes catch sight of his surroundings, “What’s going on here?”

You sigh, “Nothing much – just the CFO deciding to make an appearance today.”

Seokjin blinks, “The CFO?”

“Yeah, he’s the head of the department, so we’re on top of our game right now.” You mention, gesturing to him, “You should get started on the tasks I have for you too.”

He doesn’t seem to hear you, “The CFO…is here?”

You raise an eyebrow, “I just said that.”

But you don’t notice how Seokjin’s eyes have lit up, a huge smile stretching across his lips, “No way…”

“Y/N?”

You pivot around to see Soyou peering at the two of you currently halted in front of the elevator doors.

You’re just about to respond back, but you catch sight of the man standing next to her.

He’s tall, like really tall. There’s a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and he’s adorned in a neat dark blue suit. He sheepishly smiles when he catches your gaze, two dimples appearing at the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widen.

“Is that–“

“Namjoon!”

Whirling around, your eyes enlarge once you notice the way Seokjin practically beams at the man’s presence.

He walks over in an instant, swinging an arm around him.

“Good to see you’re doing well.” Namjoon remarks with a fond smile.

“Of course I am, what else would you expect?” Seokjin loudly boasts. “I just can’t believe you’re the CFO now!”

Namjoon chuckles, “Ah well, it took me quite a lot of work to get to this position.”

Seokjin suddenly snaps his fingers together, an expression of recognition taking over him, “Wait, did you take the stairs to get up here?”

Namjoon exhales a lengthy sigh, before ultimately nodding.

“Admittedly, not a great move on my part.”

Seokjin lets out the most endearing laughter you’ve ever heard and it’s in that instance you don’t recall how long it’s been since you were frozen in position, simply watching the interaction play out before you.

You slowly shift forward, politely smiling at Namjoon and opting to stand next to Soyou. Namjoon gestures towards her and you assume they need to excuse themselves elsewhere, but Seokjin stops him in his tracks.

“Hey, Namjoon.” Seokjin brings up, turning his attention back to him, “Why are you here now anyways?”

“To check up on some things.” He states, “The company is working towards a new product launch, so I’ll be around and about here for a while.”

And with that, he departs along Soyou.

“Let me get this straight–“ He whispers, “That man, over there –“

He gestures towards the office, “That tall guy in the blue, is the CFO?”

You hum in response, typing some input in a spreadsheet.

His eyes flicker over to the handsome man standing next to Namjoon, a giant smile on his lips as he endearingly talks to him.

“And they know each other?”

Hoseok turns, still astounded. You glance over at him, nodding to his question.

“Apparently, he’s younger than Seokjin too.”

Hoseok nearly chokes, “Younge–“

“He’s Kim Namjoon, right?” Yoongi interjects on the other side, “I heard he became the CFO recently.”

“Interesting….”

You and Hoseok swivel at the sound of another voice, one a tad bit deeper than the rest.

Taehyung leans against Yoongi’s cubicle, the latter barely flinching from his presence and continuing to work. He has a hand planted against his chin, eyebrows raised with an intrigued expression.

Hoseok blinks, “Where did you come from?”

“That’s not the point.” Taehyung interjects right away.

An amused smile crosses your lips, “Do you think we should be worried about this new CFO?”

“I don’t think so.” You mention, glancing at the two, “They seem close, and he seems a lot nicer compared to the last head of department.”

Hoseok grins, “You’re being too kind. He’s much better.”

“I don’t know.” Taehyung crosses his arms, eyeing you, “I would be careful if I were you, just in case.”

You hum in response, trying to understand what he was trying to imply. You suppose you’re not completely surprised that Seokjin knows Namjoon well, but it is a little jarring to know how close his contact is with the man that is in charge of your department.

Glancing at your monitor, you wonder if it’s also the reason why you’re working harder than usual too.

“He’s not that bad.” Hoseok brings up in retaliation.

“You sure?” Taehyung raises a brow, “There’s absolutely nothing fishy about him?”

“He came by to check in with HR and I saw no issues.” Hoseok remarks.

Taehyung persists, “He could be pretending to be nice!”

“Can the two of you have this argument somewhere else?”

Yoongi sighs from his end, continuing to work on his report. You turn around, facing the plastic separating your cubicles.

“What do you think about him, Yoongi?”

“He looks okay. Probably had some kind of history with Seokjin.” He shrugs, “Time will only tell.”

“See!” Hoseok exclaims, “Even Yoongi thinks he’s okay.”

Taehyung pouts in response, but you can’t help and let your eyes wander over, curiosity overtaking you.

“I’m surprised you were willing to take the staircase.”

Seokjin stands next to Namjoon, a playful tone to his words.

Namjoon grimaces, “There was a lot of traffic today, plus I can’t remember the last time I visited this building.” He shakes his head, “There’s too many floors for such small architecture.”

Seokjin chuckles and Namjoon looks at him apologetically. “I’m also sorry I missed you at the elevators, I was just trying to get up here as fast as possible.”

“No need to apologize.” Seokjin waves it off, “Congrats on officially becoming the new CFO.”

He smiles, “Thanks.”

Namjoon glances back and forth, before leaning closer and whispering in a low tone.

“This probably won’t be surprising, but–“ He intently stares at Seokjin, “You know I’m here to check up on things and one of those things is you, right?”

He softly smiles as Namjoon grows hesitant, “I heard the news recently…how are you taking it?”

“Becoming the CEO of this place with a two-month deadline.” Seokjin sharply laughs, “Just who wouldn’t love that kind of news?”

“I don’t think it’s that bad, you know.” Namjoon acknowledges, “I still think you can do it.”

“Well, you’ll be one of the many that still believe that.” He shakes his head, letting out a sigh.

“It’ll become easier, trust me.” Namjoon reaches his arm out, patting him on the shoulder and Seokjin gives him a half-smile.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask…” Namjoon begins, speaking in a lighter tone, “You ran away?”

Seokjin stares at him wide eyed, “I didn’t ‘run away’, I took a break!”

Namjoon laughs and shakes his head, “You still haven’t changed, have you?”

Seokjin grins, “You mean hate this company even more so now that I’m working at it? Of course not.”

“I’ve also heard you have someone overseeing your training in the office.” Namjoon furrows his brows, “Y/N L/N, right?”

Seokjin hums, “She’s part of your department, and we’ve been working pretty well together ever since she negotiated with me.”

Namjoon tilts his head to the side, “Negotiated?”

“It’s a long story – it happened after I tried to run away and she had to come after me.”

“You left the building and she came after you?” Namjoon’s eyes enlarge, as if he was still trying to process it.

“Like I said, a long story–“

“You know, these are the moments where I question how you’re older than me, right?”

“And it’s in these moments where I tell you that I believe that having a naturally younger mentality has great effects on one’s outlook.”

The corner of Namjoon’s mouth curves upward.

“Anyways,” Seokjin continues, “I guess I’ll just have to get better over time. It’s just that the office is so–“

“Boring? Mundane?” Namjoon ponders, counting them off on his fingers, “Way too consistent?”

Seokjin grins at not even needing to explain it, “Remember to try your best and that it’s important to–“

“I know, I know, and focus when I can.” He reiterates, “You don’t have to tell me again. Now come on, I’ll finally introduce you to her.”

“A truly ambiguous role.” Namjoon wistfully sighs and Seokjin frowns.

“I think your sense of humor has gotten a lot worse.”

“My sense of humor?” Namjoon frowns in confusion and Seokjin shakes his head, leading him away and towards the department.

“Her desk is just around here–“

Seokjin freezes, a snicker leaving his lips. Namjoon swivels around, sending a curious glance in his direction.

“What is it?”

He crosses his arms. “It looks like someone just became Mr. Popular here.”

Namjoon turns with rounded orbs to see four sets of eyes glued to him – all of which immediately turn away the moment he directly looks at him. He watches as they either resume working at their cubicles or tending to plants at someone else's cubicle – the latter one bringing on even more confusion towards him than he would have asked for.

Seokjin continues to laugh and Namjoon shakes his head, wondering how he managed to get paired with such a strange department.

23 notes · View notes