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riverdale-retread · 2 years ago

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Riverdale S7 E8 Hoop Dreams

I kid you not, this thing is 20 pages. Enter at your own risk. (ILY for reading even part of this.)

Jughead Jones tells us that while “some towns are football towns,” Riverdale isn’t. My longing for OG Tabitha, the angel of chronokinesis and savior of FailAdult Jughead Jones, is such that I pondered if this is Tabitha’s touch - to make a town that for six seasons has been all about football (insert the immortal “Highs and Lows of High School Football” quote gif here if you’re able, which I am not, so you’ll just have to imagine it for this summary) stop caring about that sport altogether and switch over to basketball, which might be her favorite.

Please come back, chronokinetic angel Tabitha, God of Time Loop Manipulation!

The funny thing is, even though Jughead says with what sounds like regret that Riverdale has but a “so-so football team” there’s a banner over the in progress basketball game that says 1942 RIVERDALE HIGH FOOTBALL CHAMPIONS. Granted, it doesn’t say WHAT they were champions of, but I suspect Jughead might be wrong about everything he’s saying, because the other banners say things like Riverdale High Field Hockey Champions 1944, Riverdale High Boys Basketball Champions 1945 and Division II State Champions Field Hockey 1952. Jughead insists that kids only play hockey on the river in winter, implying that they only do that because there’s nothing else to do. Granted, field hockey isn’t ice hockey, but it’s still hockey, and they were champions of this twice across eight years, so - basically, Jughead currently only thinks basketball is cool because (a) his girlfriend-god that he’s been (tw: Harry Potter reference) obliviated into forgetting wants him to think that and (b) Archie in the 1950s AU that we’re in plays basketball not football.

I wondered if the reason, say, that the one and only time the Riverdale football team was the champion was because of WWII or if that war had something to do with this spotty history of performances from the high school of at town that is completely obsessed with sports in every iteration, but I don’t think it quite lines up. WWII was between 1939 and 1945, and the US entry into that war was in 1941.

One more irrelevant point - in OG Riverdale True Timeline of previous seasons, SWEET PEA played basketball. So did Reggie Mantle. And now - now that the tallest boy Riverdale ever had is gone for good, NOW is when they make basketball a thing. O Riverdale Why Are You Like This?! (All Hail the Members of the Cult of Sweet Pea of which there are about five at any given time). I only say this because they actually cut to Fangs, playing basketball, which spiked my stress levels.

Basically, every time I see Fangs I’m enraged because that actor - while beautiful in the face and body - makes for a very terribly unintimidating Serpent and a very terribly unintimidating US Civil War warlock, and a deeply inappropriate basketball player because everything about him says gymnast weightlifter.

Anyways! Even though Fred Andrews, who is basically a saint now in Riverdale because Luke Perry was apparently a very kind man as well as valuable actor who died tragically young during the production of this show, led the team to become champions of the state three years IN A ROW, there are no signs to actually commemorate this achievement in the current halls Riverdale High where his son, Archie Andrews, plays basketball. Granted, doing some rough math, if Archie is 17 in 1955, his dad’s high school career would’ve been in the mid thirties, so the basketball glory days of Riverdale High would’ve been between like, 1934 and ‘37 (assuming Fred was born in 1918 and had Archie at age 20 in 1938 - omg this makes this Archie so old to me - 1938?!?!). Do they only put up banners for wins from the last 10 years? (But then why the 1942 win?)

I tried really hard to see what team kicked the Riverdale basketball team’s butt so hard they lose 63 to 32 (with the announcer saying “that’s another big loss for Riverdale” while all the worthies - the evil vile boyfriends the HS principal and shrink, Hal Cooper, the Blossoms, Betty and Veronica, all mourn the loss) but they had very small print on red jerseys and I could not make it out. Uncle Fucking Frank reacts with violence against innocent paper cups that Dilton Doiley with literally Long Duk Dong hair (ARE THEY SERIOUS?) cringes beside him.

I always wonder about actors who get hired for roles that essentially play a hateful racist stereotype based on their racialized phenotype. Is the actor’s ‘cringing’ reaction portrayed here so awkward because he’s a bad actor, or because the scene is bad, or is he ‘resisting’ the Asian Dweeb stereotype he’s being forced to portray by being very unnatural? (There was a black and white film from the 1940s I watched for a college class whose title escapes me where white people go do things in “China” - a set - that had as its plot device and local color provider character a “Chinese” girl who spoke surreal pidgin English, and the obviously California born-and-raised Asian actress insisted on delivering these “Me Help For You Go Get!” type of stupid lines with the most So-Cal Accent of all time). Anyway, Dilton cringes because the awful white man beats up his paper cups because he sucks as a coach.

Choni, looking amazing in those cream turtleneck sweaters (I really want a cream turtleneck sweater with something navy emblazoned on it because of this), are so very upset about this loss. They find it unspeakable. Further, Toni is discomfited by the fact that Lizzo the Lesbian who dresses in proto Tom of Finland outfits and looks very hot came to sneer at her and only her for being a cheerleader.

In the locker room, Archie, because 1950s Archie is adorkably wholesome and a natural leader, is trying to give his discouraged teammates a pep talk. He sounds so decent and sweet. The other redhead, because really, there is room for only one redhead to be supreme in this town, the Julian who isn’t Jason, interrupts him with a generic sort of homophobic slur against them all - “Not if we keep playing like pansies!” before launching into a shouting rant that Archie cuts off. Nostrils flaring, Julian invokes St. Fred’s sainted “legacy” of having gifted Riverdale with a streak of wins at Archie, who is very very peeved. Julian makes sure to mention the fact that his parents sponsor the team, to which Archie fights back with a very pointed pronunciation of the title, “Captain.”

After the game, Uncle Fucking Frank is begging Clifford Blossom for something. When Archie asks him in his 1955 voice (which I now realize is a very creditable impression of the tenor husky tone of Luke Perry actually) what Blossom wanted, Uncle Fucking Frank says that he’s been permitted to bring in an outside player.

And here we come to it.

This is another Very Special Episode of Riverdale S7 - subtitle, The Thorny Question of Race in America.

Uncle Fucking Frank has many many MANY MANY flaws but he is a middle aged white man in 1955 who is entirely free from not just racism but any sort of prejudice or racial awareness whatsoever. Which - what? How? Does Uncle Fucking Frank have prosopagnosia or something? I mean, he called with evident, drooling joy, Betty Cooper in her underwear that he happened to see without her permission in her skivvies “a ripe peach of a girl” to Archie his nephew, but this is what he has to say about Reggie Mantle, about whom the first thing literally everyone other than him notices is his Not Whiteness:

- Farm kid out of Duck Creek

- Kid who knows how to win games

- 6ft 3, 220 pounds, pure muscle, fast.

- Nickname: ‘The Blur - cause you never see him coming.”

Zero mention of Reggie not being white, of being Asian (or as he may more likely have said, Oriental), or Korean. Zippo, nothing, nada. Just the barest locational and socioeconomic background, no mention of immigrant status, and only what needs to be known for his credentials as an ace basketball player to be communicate to Archie.

Do I - must I - stop hating Uncle Fucking Frank quite as much? I mean I’ll always hate him, but I might have to downgrade from Despise to just Hate. Frank, Sir, you are coming up in the world.

Wait no, I figured it out. I still can still hate Uncle Fucking Frank despite the fact that he manages to talk about Reggie Mantle purely limited to his traits as an ace basketball player with zero mention of his race, ethnicity, being oriental, what kind of Asian etc etc. During the past few years I have seen and heard in passing analyses about how pro and college football will populate their winning teams with not-white athletes, build out hugely profitable merchandising using these same athletes but not pay them their due share. I’m sure coaches that recruit students for this sort of enterprise also don’t really go into what color their skin is or their facial phenotype: they only want to know if they have the physique to render them profitable for the team. Same with Uncle Fucking Frank. He’s not enlightened, just desperate.

Meanwhile, Cheryl and Toni are working off the stress of cheering for a losing team (and in Toni’s case, whatever that meaningful look was between her and Lizzo at the end of the game.) Cheryl, who manages to not have her siren red lipstick all over her face after this make out session looks very fetching in her red neckerchief (omg the clavicles on this chick are to die for) proposes that she and Toni “go steady, just for us." Toni, looking equally fetching in with her thick bangs and leopard print scarf (do they wear these to hide the hickeys or are they too sophisticated for that?) is not nice about it. She points out that they can’t walk down the hall at school holding hands nor can they ‘pin’ each other.

Uh. That’s struck me as quite nasty, and a weirdly underhanded blow at that. 1955 is only five years after the founding of Mattachine Society which moreover was just white men, and it’s not clear to me that those dudes would’ve necessarily welcomed either of these girls. Why is Toni pointing out that they are living in a homophobic society to blame Cheryl for it?

When Cheryl finally gets the hint (“Unless you don’t want to!”), Toni finally says that monogamy is too ‘square’ for her. (What the hell is happening with her and Lizzo?) Cheryl though is nothing if not obnoxiously persistent, so she works her way around Toni’s refusal, which was I will note once again, not at all gentle, by concluding that “it’s kind of like we’re already secretly going steady if you think about it.” Way to be suffocating, Cheryl. Toni is annoyed.

We are now finally going to meet 1955 Reggie Mantle. A very dusty blue pick up truck drives down a road to turn into a yard with lots of goats. It turns out to be Archie Andrews’ ride. The farm house looks pretty huge, though not particularly fancy. Reggie is moving bales of hay from one truck to the other. His hair is all glossy and shiny looking as he does this. Archie asks apparently for the second or third time if he can’t give Reggie a hand, to which Reggie who is very Eyeore in 1955 says no.

The second thing that Archie says to Reggie is to ask if Reggie is “from Korea.” Which means at some point Frank told him he was Korean.

Maybe American and European awareness of Korea existing waxes and wanes, but this question surprised me, as in, it struck me as very unrealistic. It’s only in literally the past seven or so years (i.e. since BTS hit it big in America in 2017) that an Asian looking person is going to be asked if they are Korean first and foremost. My, how we’ve come up in the world, I guess? (Except this more like that one nutty Englishman who plastic surgeried himself into ‘being Korean’ for a bit before deciding that he wasn’t Korean after all.)

Reggie gives a very, like, 1990s answer to this “Where are you from” question, politely answering with his genealogy - Mom is “Korean.” Then he goes on to say his dad “was born here,” before adding “I was born here.” This convoluted writing is necessary because the show doesn’t want to say if Reggie’s father is ethnically Korean or not. If Reggie was born in 1938 like I’ve calculated already for Archie, and let’s just say for the sake of argument they’re all the same age, Reggie’s father was born in 1918 in the US and his mother managed to enter the US (that’s what “from Korea” or “Korean” here is supposed to mean) before the 1924 Oriental Exclusion act banning all Asian immigration to the US, which stayed in place until 1952 (My head hurts. Why did they have to make his being KOREAN a thing on this show?). This makes her the wrong age to have come to America as a picture bride (1905-1924). Also what the heck does Reggie mean by “here”? Most of the initial immigration by Koreans to the US were to Hawaii (prior to annexation) and to California because those land masses are closer to Korea (Koreans moved east to America).

Reggie looks very hot in his baggy jeans and brown belt and work gloves that match his tan boots. Of course this is a bit of a call back to the Jarchie Run Away from Hiram Together moments where Archie takes his shirt off and moves bales of hay as Jughead watches peevishly because he gets annoyed whenever Archie does things that are likely to get him laid.

Apparently, Reggie used to play basketball for Stonewall Prep, but then dropped out. While he’s willing to be polite about explaining his ethnic background (kind of - we know his mother’s ethnicity and his father’s immigration status, to be accurate), Reggie gets testy when asked this question about his history as a Stony. He says he dropped out, as Archie smiles ruefully at the rebuff (“You writing a book?”) which seems very harsh because OG Archie of course has difficulties learning things from books.

I was wrong- it wasn’t Archie’s truck, it was Frank’s. Frank has come out of the farm house to tell Reggie that things are “squared away with your folks” and that Reggie should “say his see you laters.” I don’t think this is intentional, but it’s actually accurate. Certain types of Americans do lay it on super heavy with the colloquialisms when they are speaking to someone they didn’t expect would have an American accent.

When Reggie walks past Archie towards the house, Archie looks exactly like I would if a panther just casually walked by me in the street. He’s so amazed by Reggie that he gives Uncle Fucking Frank a ‘Oh My Golly Gosh Did YOU See That Too?’ look to which Frank gives him an understanding nod. Frank apparently doesn’t find this reaction ‘bent’ at all.

So now we’re at the dinner table at the Andrews home with Mary politely trying to make conversation.

I’m gonna have to break the summation again once more to note the huge problems that trying to be ethnically accurate about Charles Melton the actor (his mom is ethnically Korean and his father is not) for this season that they’ve set in 1955 causes the show. In S2-6, they gave Reggie a Tiger Dad type father who looked Asian (or part Asian) and his mother was cast with an Asian (or part Asian) actress. But in 1955 we’re having to go with the idea that Reggie was a mixed race kid born in 1938, without actually going into anti- miscegenation and laws associated therewith (I am not going to research this ok? I just know Loving v Virginia was decided in 1967. FML. I hate history so much and here I am having to do this for my RIVERDALE HOBBY - , like wtf is my life rn).

The thing is, THE THING IS, the set up they have for “dad born here, I’m born here, I speak fluent English with an American accent” Reggie is that of an exchange student far from home, an alien guest in an All American Caucasian Household.

Long Duk Dong set up (from Sixteen Candles, which is a movie Molly Ringwald was in, who now plays Archie’s Mom) ONCE AGAIN. There’s a classic Margaret Cho quote from decades ago about how Asian Americans aren’t allowed to just, like, EXIST in American shows and movies. There’s always got to be some reason that justifies their existence - foreign exchange student being one of the most benign go-tos. Riverdale is reproducing the Explain Your Existence, O Surprising Oriental trope even as they pretend to actually engage with Asian American identity.

Friends, I have written five pages, single spaced and so far I’ve covered literally FOUR MINUTES of the show. Let’s move faster.

Mary Andrews has heard that Reggie grew up on a farm, and wants to know all about it. Uncle Fucking Frank is seated at the head of the table like somehow he has a right to be there. Anyway, Reggie is bouncy and discreetly proud of himself when he says that his dad was injured in the Korean War (“Came home with shrapnel in his shoulder”) so he has to step up, because it’s his family’s legacy.

These are all words designed to ping every string in Archie’s heart - Dad, Korean War, Family Legacy, Stepping Up.

Times are hard, is what Reggie is telling them, so Archie asks why they couldn’t get assistance from the GI Bill. “We’re not considered eligible” is what Reggie tells Archie. So… is Reggie’s Dad a Not Korean But Asian person? Who was born in America in 1918 and got drafted into the Korean War while Asian? I mean, I have no idea how many that might be actually, and the Korean War was an international police action that had battlefield participation from, like, Ethiopia, Turkey and South Africa, so there were bunches of not Korean men fighting that war. (Oh and uh, if you bring up MASH to me I will curse your bloodline and block you because NO.) So where the US government refused to do right by its veterans of color, Clifford Blossom's need to have his pet basketball team win something will provide the assistance the Mantle farm apparently needs and should’ve received from the US government.

Reggie is going to be roommates with Archie. He gets a bunk, lots of blankets, and a dresser drawer. Reggie looks very glum about this, though the adorable clueless 1955 Archie whom I do like so much is being very sincere in his efforts to be a good host. Reggie happens to glance out the window to see Betty Cooper, very fetching in green and white polka dots, settle on her bed

“Who’s that?” he wants to know. He says everything in this dour, serious tone, which I guess is meant to convey that the weight of the world is on this Reggie, as opposed to the one that lived in the permanent year 2020. Archie tellingly refuses to say her actual name, describing Betty as “his neighbor” that Reggie will “get to meet at school tomorrow.” Then, just to make things extra weird, he firmly notes that they’re both supposed to keep their window curtains shut from now on - no further explanation. Reggie clearly has a ton of questions but decides not to ask any.

Hal comes to give Betty a visit. Werthers has advised Hal that Betty might be better off burning off her excess energy by becoming a cheerleader. The fact that her school shrink is talking about Betty's sexuality with her dad is supposed to give me the heebie jeebies but it doesn't. When this town's adults don't like something about their kids they straight up shove them into a mental institution run by a pseudo Catholic cult (both in the OG Universe and 1955 AU) so what Betty is getting is cosseting. What's more interesting is the very All American conviction that repeatedly keeps getting voiced that Sports Will Fix Sexual Problems In The Young. Kevin's unacceptable homosexuality was supposed to be cured by participation in homosocial team sports. Betty's unacceptable sexuality in general (because God forbid women do anything) is also supposed to be cured by participation in a homosocial team sport. Nobody sees the contradiction in any of this. When told that she must join the Vixens - AND without auditioning! Join through back channels! - Betty looks completely disgusted. And yeah there's a very Rivderdalean triple pun here, of a sexualized virgin being forced to join the most objectfied female activity in American high school AND acquire the title VIXEN into the bargain! I wonder if this is the show advocating for teen girls to send nudes to boys - because that's what Betty would've done had she had the technology, right?

The next morning Lizzo the Lezzie is waiting for Toni at the school. I thought Lizzo dropped out? Is she just an incorrigible morning person? This is a disturbing level of stalking of Toni is it not? To come super early to the grounds of the school you dropped out of to provide sneering commentary on someone else's relationship is a LOT. And Lizzo is so carefully dressed too : Tom of Finland leathers hat and jacket, maroon pants, belt with a big interesting buckle that is the same color as her huge hoop earrings. She tells Toni she's "figured out a good hustle." She picks put "ripe" closeted girls, brings them out and uh deflowers them, then ditches them.

Oooh is this Toni Topaz having a toxic trait? Because her relentless pursuit of Cheryl, who was all manner of unwilling (plus the usual lack of sexual frisson between these two performers- also sidebar rant WHY WONT THEY GIVE VERONICA A GIRLFRIEND) was in truth a little icky right?

Toni looks shifty and avoidant when she spots Tabitha Tate and simply leaves Lizzo in the lurch.

Tabitha says that Mrs. Till was all the things that sound exhausting to have to be ("so strong, so inspiring") but that the tour trying to voice the racial injustice of America took a personal toll on her. This is the start of a severely, comically fucked up race related discussion vis a vis African Americans on this episode. First of all, you have two African American women explaining white racism to each other, very calmly, without expressing anger or fatigue and even managing to experience some surprise. That is so weird. Second, Toni says she "can only imagine" the hatred and racial injustice that Tabitha just got through encountering up close and personal. Excuse me? Why can she only imagine? Wouldn't Toni actually KNOW? Because anti black racism doesn't exist at all in Riverdale 1955?? (But she was one who pointed out exactly what some of the more obvious ones were to Featherhead!) When Toni confesses to Tabitha that she's now a cheerleader, she prefaces by saying "Don't laugh" and doesn't say the BS she tried to push on Lizzo at the start of her River Vixen career - that being the first black cheerleader is somehow meaningful. Tabitha evidently doesn't feel anything other than horror at the idea of being a cheerleader so she instead asks about whether Toni is still writing think pieces for the Blue and Gold. She isn't. Tabitha completely runs out of things to say. OK so thus far, 1955 Toni is a bit of a predatory lesbian lothario who will get sanctimonious about race only when she thinks she can get away with it, and Tabitha is a judgmental prig. I suppose this could be considered a sort of progress for characters who used to be all about their “race,” each with the designated role of being the only one with the braincell because that’s clumsy representation but it’s better than a hateful depiction, but the dark sides shown here are still a simplistic flip of the equally nuance-free ‘light’ sides that were dominant for both.

In the student lounge, Betty, Veronica and Cheryl (who really would be an ultimate throuple - with Veronica as the hinge person, if only, well, if only all of them didn’t have the various issues they’ve always had) allow Kevin to sit with them, which I simply do not understand. Betty is too good for her own good, to coin a phrase. Veronica is deeply amused by Betty being a “RiverVixen” to which Cheryl makes it clear that she did not want this to happen - for Betty to join the cheerleading squad NOR the nepotistic way she joined it. Veronica now owns the Babylonium - complete with “paperwork.”

Why. Do they do. This. with the Contract Mentions. [fists clenched, vibrating with rage] Finalized by who? Which paperwork? Is Veronica an emancipated minor too like Jughead probably possibly is or has she been lying all this time about being the same age as everyone else purportedly is in this universe?

In any case, Betty, who has developed a new oral fixation with lollipops, finds Veronica’s penchant for business as adorable as Veronica finds the thought of Betty in a cheerleader uniform. Veronica is wearing a very un-1950s Veronica outfit - the collar goes right up to the collarbone, the sleeves are puffy, the color subdued. Now that she’s recovered some element of her OG Universe self (compulsive entrepreneur), she is now speaking of herself in the third person and archly. The camp is dialed up so high the knob breaks off. (“Veronica Lodge likes to burn rubber” which is, what, three layers of pun? Burn Rubber = goes fast. Rubber = slang for condom. But Veronica is a virgin, etc). Betty and (Sighhhhh) Kevin think so too, because they give each other a look.

Or it could be because their 17 year old friend suddenly talking like she’s a 1940s screen diva at a waning stage of her career AND talking about herself in the third person using her full name is just fully very strange.

To make matters worse, Archie brings in Reggie Mantle to this little group, trying to do his best to integrate this valuable new teammate (and roommate, and all round amazing looking cool handsome guy that he thinks is just the tops on first sight) to his coterie. Veronica fully falls into an erotic fugue at the sight of Reggie, and starts to speak in tongues - “Are you gonna introduce us to your strapping flutter bum of a new pal?” 1950s Archie smiles nicely at her while not answering, which is the usual thing that he does when he just doesn’t understand wtf the other person is saying but doesn’t feel safe asking them to explain in case everyone else understands and they all wind up finding out that he’s dumb.

Reggie apparently expects Riverdale people to be completely insane because he doesn’t even do a double take at this exceptional sentence from this girl he’s meeting for the first time. He just soberly introduces himself. I mean, given that he has first met Uncle Fucking Frank on a mission from Clifford Blossom of all people, and then had Archie say what he said about the curtains and Betty, he’s not wrong.

Veronica is laying it on an inch thick - “I suspected a tall drink of water like you was a sportsman!”

She’s taking all her behavioral cues from an earlier era of movie diva, I think. This is like, Marlene Dietrich (“Marriage? [scoff] I never found a man good enough for that.”) or Greta Garbo (“But I vaaunt to be aloonnne”) with a certain brassy kind of young Joan Crawford making movie after movie with Clark Gable.

The original high-camp archly-haute queen of Riverdale, Cheryl, fights for her crown. She interrupts whatever next thing Veronica was going to say by snapping that Veronica “might get a ticket for speeding.” This doesn’t just mean that Cheryl really dislikes it when people are very heterosexual around her (though she does feel that too). Veronica first of all is intensely wlw-coded, which is why it irks (the closeted) Cheryl that Veronica is laying it on so thick with the attraction to big handsome man’s-man Reggie (which of course goes all the way over the maximum virility level to loop all the way around to being gay!). (In a way that Toni never actually appeared to like or interact with other women, OG Veronica absolutely LOVED other women and made the personal political in a very principled way). And it shows that Cheryl not only closely listens to everything Veronica says but also really thought the whole ‘burn rubber’ triple pun was great, which is why she references it in her attempted put down.

She tries to demonstrate how she thinks not-straight girls should react to someone with Reggie’s glossy hair and sculptural face. Cheryl puts on the most anodyne professional face to tell Reggie what “professional” (ahem) connections they have, and makes sure to say that the two of them “will be working closely together.” She does this very well. But the thing is, she looks even more insane than before because the flip of the switch from her sniping at Veronica (an explosion of genuine feeling) and this ‘groomed professional’ self is so abrupt!

Reggie is like, okay so hot girl 1 is nuts and so is hot girl 2, but maybe hot girl 3 (and neighbor) is not insane, so he asks Betty if she’s a cheerleader. Kevin makes a face like he knows exactly Reggie’s thought process (but honestly, fuck you Kevin. Die in a ditch.). Betty does give the most sane reaction out of the three. When Reggie calls her ‘neighbor’ though, Veronica AND Betty AND Kevin all have a reaction. (Cheryl already knew and possibly doesn’t care so she doesn’t say anything). Kevin and Veronica look over at Archie, while Betty scrunches her forehead at Reggie.

Archie is still looking at Reggie like made of solid gold. “He’s gonna help turn things around for the Bulldogs.”

Veronica is so bored by Riverdale. She must be. Why else is she acting like this? She immediately tries to monopolize Reggie’s attention, calling him “Reginald” and interviewing him like she’s a celebrity journalist trying to win some sort of tabloid spirit award. Reggie continually gives her looks that blatantly say, Are you really like this - like, really?? Yet Veronica is utterly undeterred. What she reminds me of is Samantha from Sex and the City. No woman talks like that - that was a ‘woman’ written by gay men who thought THEY would talk like that and behave like that if THEY were women (which no, they would not. There are reasons why actual women can’t talk or behave that way). Veronica tries to lay out all her best cards (she thinks) on the table, concluding with “I own my own business, yes” and calls her movie theater a “movie palace.”

Oh Veronica. Being a entrepreneurial girl in a heterosexist world is exactly like being a logical confrontational girl or a scientifically rigorous girl. Being these things is surely a strength, to be aspired to and will fuel you to achieve self actualization, but no straight boy ever found these things hot. They like us in spite of these strengths, not because. Sad, but true.

Reggie clearly just doesn’t believe her, possibly adding ‘mythomania’ to his assessment that already includes ‘speaks strangely’ and ‘incomprehensible’ about Veronica.

When showing off her fabulous gift of the gab, her perfect face, and her entrepreneur skills fails to make an impact on Reggie, Veronica gets annoyed. In response to his saying his town just did not have a movie theater AND his parents never owned a TV (possibly, never made enough to buy one), she offers Reggie a job, which will come with a side order of sexual harassment from a very attractive female boss.

Cheryl Blossom, who knows all about Reggie’s financial dependence on her father, finds the mention of money horrible (Cheryl Old Money vs. Veronica New Money dynamic). She calls Veronica uncouth (“Raised by wolves!”). Reggie has had more than enough. He used to go to Stonewall with rich WASPs so can tell when things are about to go sideways. He literally backs away from everyone, asking to be shown the gym.

Veronica AND Kevin leap at the chance to get near Reggie and a shower stall at the same time, so Archie comes to his rescue to show him the way. Reggie gives Kevin a Et Tu Brute?!? look, not because he’s homophobic, but I think because he thought a big muscled fit person like Kevin might conduct himself with better comportment. Archie gives Kevin a look before leaving.

Tabitha approaches Jughead in the hall. They are wearing perfectly matched outfits. She’s wearing a fabric with a pink-and-green checkerboard pattern, while Jughead is wearing a vest with shades of green in a grid over a pink shirt. His locker door is very interesting. He’s got a big cover of the Super Duck comic issue taped in the honored central location, which I take to mean that not only is he actually really working on the Super Duck comics but he actually is proud of and excited by the work (Unless this is some super tightly thought out trickery against Werthers and Featherhead). There’s also that month’s calendar with each day crossed out - is this him working on his personal writing ‘every day’? To be true to himself, there’s also some sort of movie postcard about SPIDERS and another one about TOMB. I wish I could make out more of what’s on there but I can’t.

Anyway - Jughead apparently has NOT been doing anything to help Tabitha keep abreast of her schoolwork like he promised her a few episodes ago. Tabitha smilingly takes him to task for it, and he’s full of stammering apologies. Tabitha says that she didn’t actually have difficulties keeping up with school, so Jughead is “hereby absolved.” She even wants to know why Jughead was so preoccupied, like he tried to explain during his apology.

The way Tabitha and Jughead keep echoing each other in this little scene is just so cute. Their outfits exactly match, as I’ve said. Jughead says that he “got a job” writing a “broad range” of comic books and that he’s also working for Bradberry. Tabitha has read Bradberry because she “reads across all genres, including science fiction.” The cuteness of these super attractive nerds with their pretty faces just moisturizes my dry little heart. Their twitchy little body language tells of excitement and shy liking also match - they both shake their heads a little when they suggest something, to indicate Please Don’t Say No, and bounce on their heels and do minute little up down motions with their shoulders. Whereas 1955 Archie is wholesome in a slightly clueless way but also because he’s trying to be perfect as a way to grieve the loss of his father, these two, memory-wiped Jughead and 1955 Tabitha, are genuinely wholesome. When Tabitha takes her leave, Jughead looks at her with slight disbelief at his own good fortune.

At the ‘movie palace,’ Kevin, who like Cheryl pays very close attention to everything Veronica says I guess, asks Veronica for a job. He’s also obsessively watched Singing In the Rain so many times that he’s gotten it memorized end to end. (This is yet another way Kevin is not friendshaped to me - I’ve always been a Fred Astaire girl.) One of the (spoken) prerequisites of getting a job at this theater is to love movies. One of the half-spoken prerequisites, however, is a willingness to get involved, either directly or not, in Veronica’s attempt at having a sex life in Riverdale. Veronica really thought that becoming a sort of mogul would help her land straight guys.

Oh honey.

Veronica (sort of like Toni, actually) is sexually predatory and also desperate in a way I find curious. She’s been hitting on Clay for a while, apparently, but even though hes just NOT RESPONDING (which is very woman-coded of him) she refuses to take the fucking hint. She makes it blatantly clear that she only hired Kevin because he is friends with Clay AND will help her “suss him out.”

Oh honey!

We finally get to the reveal of Reggie The Blur Mantle's basketball skills! Uncle Fucking Frank calls his players "turkeys." Waterboy Dilton is there wearing an especially unflattering rotten greenish Grey color sweatshirt while everyone is in either a blue or a yellow jersey. I guess gold was too expensive? I can comfortably hate Frank again because a teammate tosses a used paper cup right at Dilton and another gives him a fist bump for it in a very visible act of denigration and Frank neither notices nor cares. Maybe it's this inability to see detail and perceive reality by this coach that is the cause of this team sucking so badly?

Reggie’s purpose in being brought on is made crystal clear to everyone. He's either to be an unwelcome alien element that provokes the existing property team members to hitherto impossible levels of competence and, if that doesn't work, use his own proven excellence to drag them over the edge. Frank has no interest in Reggie’s quality of life or smooth integration into the team, accordingly. I've been hired a part of a reform and upgrade effort like this one and lemme tell you - the push back from the existing people who are told We Are Bringing Them In Cuz You Suck is insidious, nasty, brutish and persistent. People don't like being insulted nor shown that they are replaceable.

So Fucking Frank makes Julian the captain of one team and Reggie the captain of the other. The only two that initially join Reggie’s group are Archie and Fangs. Archie thinks it's a no brainer - he dislikes Julian, this is his uncle's big gambit, and he thinks Reggie is just tops. Fangs joins, I assume, because Reggie has black hair like him. When everyone else joins Team Julian, Fangs objects (3:7 is unfeasible).

Reggie invites Dilton to join. Dilton lights up as that fucker Frank looks back at him as he's seeing him for the first time. Maybe he has. I've had white teachers "forget" wholesale that I was in their class when the class had only 6 other students when assigning roles for a semester length project. (Riverdale got this right, is what I'm saying.)

The thing is, I HAD TO be in that class.

Why Dilton puts up with this especially when he had no ability in it is confusing to me.

Archie is worried about this decision but he does nicely ask Dilton if he's up for it, then prompts him to get on the court.

This is by the way fascinating kingly behavior on Reggie’s part. The easier choice when you're bullied is to avoid the people who are the same type as you.

The Vixens filter in. I didn't realize the cheerleaders were obliged to sit and watch team practice. That is truly terrible. No wonder Betty was so annoyed.

And we're off!

I do not care about sports and therefore have zero knowledge or reference but is this sort of angle normal for basketball??

Reggie scores a point immediately. I'm assuming that what he does here - a sort of demi tourne en-l'air as he scores- is awesome because they show it a) in slow motion and b) most of the Vixens clap and all react like they saw something amazing. Cheryl especially looks shocked.

I am again so enamored of their outfits this season. An extra wears a beautiful pinstripe skirt with stripes of color mixed in - white, red, and mustard - with a grapefruit cardigan over a white shirt. I covet this outfit. Betty is fetching dressed only in pink and white. I LOVE IT when they put Cheryl in navy, like they do here, because it makes her look like three scoops of vanilla ice cream. Midge looks extremely not pregnant in her cinched-tight skirt. Toni is trying to dyke it up while matching Cheryl in navy tones - tight blue jeans and a matching sweater.

Julian makes like he's going to smash Dilton's glasses (or face) with the basketball in his hands. Dilton cringes, costing his side however many points Julian immediately scores. He's crushed. Reggie comes up from behind to reassure him with pats to the stomach, maintaining eye contact with Dilton to make sure he is OK.

The fucker Frank seems worried at this show of solidarity that Reggie feels with other Asians.

Reggie scores every time he attempts to. He looks right at Betty as soon as he scores the first one, and Betty is getting into it with every score Reggie uh, scores. (I am bored and I also know very few sports words.)

Julian fully elbows Dilton right in the chest, knocking him over, before scoring too. Abusing Dilton seems to be what helps him achieve excellence. I'm wondering what exactly was wrong with this team to begin with because Julian at least seems as good as Reggie at scoring, albeit in less aerodynamic ways.

Muscles rippling, Reggie lifts Dilton up off the ground. I feel a grim obligation to look up a Dilton/Reggie tag for s7 on Ao3. (Grim because I much prefer the other Dilton, the feral one that eventually grows his hair long and has that secret close friendship with Jughead).

Oh and when Julian scores the banner behind him says Victory Is Ours! whereas when Reggie is helping Dilton out the banner behind the two of them says Go Team Go!

Frank shouts something about game point, and Dilton, whose dusty skills are irrigated by one instance of skin on skin contact by Reggie, actually manages to score. Frank looks pleased but I think he's not proud of Dilton so much as pleased for himself that Reggie’s excellence transfers to other people.

Reggie, Fangs and Archie hoist Dilton into the air to celebrate his single solitary winning moment in life so far in the 50s alternate universe. The two Asian boys helped each other win against Julian Blue-Blood Blossom and to make sure you got it, Riverdale gave the Asian Boy Team members yellow jerseys. Guess what color Julian's jersey is. Later, Julian is so pissed he kicks a basketball.

In the locker room afterwards Dilton is shown collecting laundry to haul off somewhere. Just like I didn't know that cheerleaders were forced to attend the practice and training sessions of the players, I didn’t know that to be a water boy was to be an unpaid maid for the other players. Remind me once again why Dilton wants to participate on these terms?? (Also, an Asian boy with laundry duties is actually worse than Long Duk Dong. Having the less stereotypical Reggie (though at this point, the Super Asian Who is Good At All the Things is ripening into almost a fully fledged stereotype) doesn’t counteract Dilton’s portrayal. That’s not how this works.

Everyone other than Dilton is pretty glum, because the player that was brought in because they suck has proven himself to be superior to them. Archie suggests that they all take him out for burgers at Pop’s. Possibly for the first time in his life, Archie is met with silent treatment from a bunch of people. He wants to know “what gives?” Reggie gets it immediately, so he tries to recuse himself. Ominously, Julian suddenly says he wants to go, and that’s because when Julian is down in the dumps the immediate next thing he alights on is to use his money to squash someone. Knowing that Reggie doesn’t have a car, he sets up a race - “Last one to Pop’s treats!” knowing it’s gonna be Reggie. Archie didn’t think of that, so he feels alarmed. Dilton is permitted to come by Julian. The four of them - Fangs, Archie, Dilton and Reggie - awkwardly stare at each other.

In the extremely constricting looking cheerleader practice outfits - the button down shirts with tightly belted blue shorts - the Vixens are assigned their ‘designated’ player by Cheryl. Cheryl thank the lord gets Julian (which she doesn’t mind and is great for everyone). She describes this duty as “personalized support, baking him cookies” and “helping with his homework.” Neither Veronica nor Betty have ever heard of this. Cheryl assigns Archie to Toni, and Reggie to Betty. Toni is full of questions and suspicions about this choice, but Betty seems more than pleased.

Meanwhile, Tabitha and Jughead (him wearing the felt crown, which unlike the beanie I can’t ‘unsee’ and her in a pink bandeau headband) are visiting Apartment 407 which belongs to Bradberry. The author is not responsive to Jughead’s knocking. Tabitha suggests leaving him a note, and Jughead, while scribbling, asks if Tabitha wants to go see a movie. lOoh, sort of like how Jabitha started - with her asking him to hang out!! “I would love to go to the movies with you” is what she says, in her melting sweet voice and her huge soft eyes which can’t be fully obscured by those huge glasses frames. It’s a completely unromantic movie, about being attacked by a giant octopus, yet Jughead gets starry-eyed when she says Yes without hesitation. Having written his note, Jughead takes out a piece of gum from his mouth that he hadn’t been chewing this entire time to attach it to the door. Jughead and Tabitha giggle cutely at each other as they head off to the movies.

In the changing room back at school, Toni is changed into her Hot Beatnik Chick outfit. Cheryl asks what’s wrong, to which Toni ominously replies, “We need to get real, Cheryl.” So, this emotional rollercoaster that Toni keeps dragging Cheryl on - is this supposed to serve as some sort of corrective to the way Choni ultimately worked out in the OG timeline? Lizzo’s critiques about how Toni’s predatorily self-serving ways being correct doesn’t really do anything for me until they do more with Lizzo as a character. Toni, though, is not wrong when she says, “Baking for my own personal meathead is not really want I want my life to be about.” Hear hear. Plus, I don’t think that it was general knowledge that this level of handmaidenhood was what was required of cheerleading, so this probably is far beyond what Toni is willing to put up with for a girlfriend. Cheryl seems infinitely sad at the dismissive way Toni says “cheerleader” when she says that isn’t what she wants to be. Then she asks a really scary question, so scary that she closes her eyes the entire time she is asking. Cheryl wants to know if this whole rejection of everything square and cheerleader and so forth is because Cheryl asked to go steady. Toni says no, at first, but then says that she needs to “figure herself out” plus she “needs space.” Again, I must reiterate my question about what making Toni not just a bohemian but such a toxic one supposed to show me. Cheryl is left alone with two sets of paper shakers lying like dead animals on the bench. Poor Cheryl.

At the movie theater, Jughead is ordering a LOT of food because he is flush with cash from his writing gigs I guess - popcorn, large cola with ice, two packs of ‘Senior Mints,’ a ‘Butterflinger’ with a hard emphasis on the G, Mint BoGos, Buccaneers and a Skit-Skat.

I happen to love KitKats and calling them SKAT is hurtful to me in a personal way. The official ‘joke’ of this little bit is that all of this is entirely for Jughead’s solitary consumption. Tabitha, who is grossed out by this collection of foodstuffs, has no appetite. There’s an inflation joke too, because Veronica says all of this is 75 cents. The thing that’s truly an insider level of joke about this bit, of course, is that Jughead seems to have entirely forgotten that he and Veronica had a pretty long term flirtation where they dated and she fixed up his residence and he read her his first drafts.

Veronica tells Clay that she founds it “interesting” that Tabitha and Jughead are at the movies together. Clay does not care about straight people’s shenanigans, plus it’s apparent that Veronica will not stop bringing up the topic of sex to him, so he deflects as politely as possible.

Veronica however has not forgotten their entanglement, which she describes as lasting as long as a “New York minute.” Now Clay has no choice but to show interest. Clay thinks Jughead is “plenty handsome” to which Veronica rolls her eyes before saying a very lukewarm, “I suppose.” Veronica says that Jughead is an oddball, which she makes sound like a bad thing, before trying to butter up Clay by telling him that she prefers her men to be “continental” and “worldly” and with an “air of mystery.” Cut to Kevin’s POV (Kevin is sweeping up the front hall of the theater while Veronica has Clay trapped in close proximity with her behind the concession counter. The signs on the wall immediately behind Clay read:

Refreshments

Hot Buttered (much small writing: Popcorn)

FRISKY (sandals - is this a movie?)

FLESH (eating spiders).

Clay gives Kevin a helpless look before deciding to beat a swift retreat. He’s got reel changing duties to attend to. Before he can fully get away, however, Veronica turns it up a notch to fully sexually harass her employee: “Just think about picking up what I’m putting down” she says, placing pointy manicured fingernails against his hand. Clay gives Kevin yet another Oh Help Me look (unseen by Veronica). Kevin is trying to figure how to rescue his boyfriend.

At the student lounge, Betty is trying to provide support for Reggie. She asks him what he got for a certain question, to which Reggie says she doesn’t have to do this. Betty tells him straight out that this is part of her job as a Vixen. She also wants to know what his favorite cookie is because she’s obliged to bake him some. Reggie doesn’t want her to do that either. Reggie is either some sort of paragon (Uhhh Model Minority?) or sexually repressed (Sigh) or gay because he seems ultra unreactive to Betty, being gorgeous and friendly. Betty is repressing a lot of anger about being made to participate in any of this, so it comes out in this arch, sarcastic way. I also think that she’s defensive about her ‘reputation’ so she pretends she doesn’t care as she tells him how her innocent sexual exploration (“A peep show, in our windows, if you can even call it that”) was violently taken out of the realm of privacy and ruined her reputation in town, leading her to flash her underwear on live television.

Reggie has fully had enough. He looks very concerned for her sanity as well as his own safety. Betty belatedly realizes how insane how she said what she said makes her sound but her panic makes her unable to order her thoughts. (“We didn’t— No, we’re not— I’m completely–! [dissolves into adorable mouthsounds of incoherent reassurance]). He decides he should just go. This is very reminiscent of the “Am I the only one here who hasn’t gotten rid of a dead body” moment from Killing Mr. Honey, except a bit less funny because Reggie’s personality is so tamped down for 1955. Overwhelmed by this girl mentioning “peep show” and “flashing panties” in her first real conversation with him, he tells her that she’s hereby “relieved of your, uh, Vixen duties, okay?” As he takes off, Betty puts a hand to shield her face. She is just the cutest.

Reggie is practicing basketball when Archie finds him at the gym. Archie invites him to lunch, but Reggie refuses. Archie insists that it’s not with the team (shitty people) but instead his other friends (hypersexual crazy people) so Reggie politely declines double.

Then we come to a comical bit that I don’t know the show knows is comical. Clay, Tabitha and Toni are sitting together to discuss Toni’s idea of starting a literary society at Riverdale High for black students because of …Emmett Till. That’s a really weird jump to me, but OK. Clay and Tabitha seem excited. This isn’t what I find comical. What I find comical is that this is an oblique discussion about anti-black racism by three black students who are all dating white people in an episode that decided to focus on Reggie’s Korean ethnicity.

Toni wants to highlight Black voices and writing. Clay is a prolific writer off screen - he writes poetry, literary criticism and short fiction. He wants a forum and probably deserves it -except he did spoken word that one time at the coffee house, and it’s not clear to me why he had to wait for Toni to get bored with her jaunt to Caucasian Squaretown to do this. Tabitha really hates cheerleading. Does she know about the baking and the helping with the homework and being assigned a personal meathead and all of that? It’s strongly implied Tabitha really wants Toni to give it up for an idea that she approves of as much more worthy. Toni says she gave up cheerleading because she was gay for Cheryl Blossom. Neither Tabitha nor Clay have a reaction to this at first. Tabitha enthusiastically agrees when, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from her personal life, Toni says her ‘journal’ would make a big difference to (just) the black students. The fact that Tabitha and Toni take it as a given that absolutely no white students would read this journal is an interesting commentary.

Clay wants to know what happened to which Toni gives a toxic significant other answer: ”We’re just so different.” I say it’s toxic because all the things she names about Cheryl - family background, race, financial status - were fully upfront and known and contributed to why she pursued Cheryl in the first place (according to Lizzo). Clay calls bullshit on it immediately - that it’s not ‘impossible’ to date someone who is very different (i.e. white, if you’re black) from you. Toni really needs writers for her upcoming journal so she graciously concedes his point about how “everything is a conversation” (when what she has been doing to Cheryl this whole time is making demands, ignoring refusals, and now, issuing unilateral decisions), but then needles him back with the fact that both Kevin and Clay are preppies. “I guess it depends on how much you like the person,” is Clay’s retort.

They’re actually fighting while making really sweet faces at each other. Clay is very interesting.

Tabitha, who is dating the show’s officially strange person, and the one that freaked everyone out weeks ago in this universe with his nutty theory about comets and the future and the internet etc, says absolutely nothing. Did she know both Clay and Toni were gay? I can’t tell if she’s just mulling over what they said or she’s in over her head and this is stunned silence.

At the theater, Veronica is stalking Clay, who isn’t there. She asks Kevin where Clay is, so Kevin has had enough. He calls her a slut first (because of course he would - “You’re coming on really strong”) but then Kevin says a correct thing: “Is that really appropriate [given that he works for you]?” Veronica thinks there is “nothing wrong with a little workplace flirtation.” Um. So Kevin (???!??! wtf wtf??) is like, literally decades ahead of his time (the COINAGE of the phrase sexual harassment wasn’t until the late 70s by the very great legal scholar Catherine MacKinnon who is a personal hero of mine and in a direct connection - not really- to this episode visited S. Korea in 2019 where I got to meet her at a talk she gave). All because he wants to safeguard his boyfriend. Anyway, not only is this the They Say the Word Korean Too Many Times For My Comfort episode, this is also the episode where all the gay people come out to someone. Kevin outs Clay first (without asking, and in a fit of pique, which is so shitty) and then himself, to Veronica.

Oh but not before he’s hateful to a beautiful woman first. When Veronica dejectedly notes that Clay “isn’t remotely interested” he answers in the most swinish way possible: “He’s not. I know that for a fact.” Have I mentioned enough times that I hate Kevin? I do. I hate Kevin.

Veronica does a huge about face to say that “she knew” both Clay and Kevin were gay. I think she’s lying. I might give her the point that she knew Kevin was gay (from all the obsessive Singing in the Rain watching, which is really about looking at Gene Kelly’s ass) but Clay? She didn’t.

Anyway she adjusts to reality really fast, thinking swiftly on her feet when Kevin confronts her with, “If you knew that, why would you make a play for Clay?” to retort that it was all to test her hypothesis, “of course.” She can’t sustain the lie, however, because her bored horniness takes over. The immediately next thing she does is to ask if Clay could possibly ever be bisexual. I really doubt Kevin has ever asked Clay this, but he states that “he doesn’t” before presuming to answer a question that Veronica did not ask - he includes himself when he says “we” don’t swing both ways. Veronica lies again and says that she was only ‘double checking.’

Her disappointment is so crushing that she turns into Mae West. She makes up some gibberish - that it’s better to have “hunky friends who are boys” than a hunky boyfriend. I’m not at all this type of woman (the old skool term for this is a double whammy of homophobic misogyny so I won’t use that word here) so maybe I’m missing something, but if Betty Cooper’s experience in this universe is anything to go by, Kevin is no friend to any woman because he hates women. Being homosexual doesn’t do anything to ameliorate his misogyny - in fact, it makes it much, much worse. He’s disgusted by female human bodies. Stay the hell away, Veronica!

Veronica in her disassociated Mae West persona is too much for Kevin to handle at this moment. She claims to have had more fun with the “Toni and Tab” types than Dennis Hopper and Steve McQueen which can’t possibly be true if you’re a woman attracted to men. Like COME ON (Tab is Tab Hunter, and I guess Anthony Perkins is Toni?). I Have got to hand it to Veronica for having a can-do spirit about everything. “This hick down is finally starting to feel like home,” she says, in the immediately aftermath of being told that the guy she’s been panting after for weeks and weeks will never be interested. Kevin seems moved, but since I hate Kevin, I don’t care.

At basketball practice, Julian has an announcement: Tomorrow is the “Bulldog Booster Basketball Mixer.” We know that it couldn’t possibly have been Julian who came up with this mouthful of a title - it has Cheryl stamped all over it. It’s a fundraiser to build a new gym, girls will be there, and everyone has to “dress spiffy.” Coach Fucking Frank forces Julian to issue a nastily worded invitation for Reggie in particular. All the boys are wearing the identical Chuck Taylor high-rise sneakers - is this part of the Blossom sponsorship?

Reggie I guess always stays later than everyone else to practice a bit more (and to avoid Julian), because when he heads into the locker room the only one there is Archie. Archie tries to get Reggie to commit to coming to the mixer (“They’re always a gas and a half!”). Reggie shuts him down forthwith.

In an echo of Mad Dog Munroe from the OG timeline, Reggie of 1955 wants to get a scholarship for college through his sports skills. Archie is wearing yellow to show his, uh, solidarity I guess with Reggie. (I rarely recall Archie in yellow, but also I am cranky now from all this unprecedented history research I’m being made to do.) Archie really, really, truly, desperately, like a WHOLE LOT wants to be friends with Reggie, not just roommate and host. He wants to know why Reggie can’t “cut loose a little.” He even tries to gloss the turd that Julian laid with his reluctant invitation, upgrading what Julian said (“We’ll be welcoming our newest Bulldog to the family, I suppose”) to “you’re the guest of honor.” Reggie refuses to go along to get along. In response to being called “naive,” Archie calls Reggie “a killjoy.” He wants Reggie to meet Riverdale’s Bulldogs “halfway.” This turns out to be a trigger for Reggie to tell his story.

Oh, before he tells his story he correctly points out that outside of Archie, who is tone deaf and determined to not see any unpleasantness even as it’s right in his face, nobody else has taken any sort of step towards him.

Bret (who is also alive - yay! - and a basketball player in this universe) of Stonewall Prep put up a hugely labor intensive prank of getting a really big bag of rice into Reggie’s locker, tearing it halfway open and then wedging it so that as soon as Reggie opens the door an avalanche of cascades from it all over the floor. He also concocted some sort of mean line (“You guys like rice” and “Enough to take back to the farm” and also “Yellow belly” which is kind of funny actually - if someone called me Yellow Belly I’d laugh, but I suppose any of the actually on-point racist epithets aren’t allowed on American television). The sheer amount of effort that something like this takes marks people who are bullies to be absolutely psychotic. Bret and Co. basically ran Reggie out of the school. Reggie in the OG universe felt safe telling Archie his most painful secrets (back then they were about his father who was openly abusive to the passive observation of everyone else in town, which is also a sort of racist reaction - “Those people are just like that” - which, no we are not). Reggie is so hurt. He’s determined to not “give anyone a chance to humiliate” him “ever again.”

OK so this is a great character moment for Reggie, but of course, people of color having to relive their most wounding moments of racist trauma in a way that feels sufficiently authentic, and/or literally bare their broken bodies (i.e. the open casket photo of Emmet Till which started this season) for the edification of single special white persons is a racist trope which keeps getting regurgitated as being meaningful in American popular culture. This time, Archie is the special white person. Plus, instead of just being ashamed of their appalling ignorance, the white person always gets to have their say according to the trope, which Archie does here as well. (“We’re not like that here.”) Reggie though gets the final word, which is very nice; “Aren't you?”

Wounded Reggie is wearing the navy jersey top. Wounded Cheryl is wearing a violet-navy long coat, with red accents (gloves, collar, shoes, file folder, patent leather shoulder bag) as she descends the steps of the school. Can we just talk about how hard it is to get the exact same shade of anything for an outfit like this, nevermind red, and across so many different articles of dress? I covet the coat and the bag, especially.

Toni is waiting for her. The way she says “hello” like a scared little cat filled me with tenderness. This season’s highlight of Cheryl’s essential softness has been wonderful for me. Cheryl says she’s being “stoic and strong for the sake of” the Vixens. Toni doesn’t really pretend to care about that. Instead she directly asks for money. Toni sells the journal idea to Cheryl as “a way to express ourselves on our own terms.” Cheryl indicates that she’s all for it, but that Featherhead might nix it.

Because Toni is doing this social justice type thing but the only three black students with actually speaking parts are all dating white people and there is a statistically anomalous over representation of not-straights, the show has a black extra stand on the steps of the school to show that there are indeed other black students. His legs stay in view the entire time Toni and Cheryl are talking .

Cheryl even volunteers to bake for a fundraising bake sale, if it comes to it.

Cheryl then asks if she was dumped for being white. Toni says yes, which is very brutal. I have no idea what the hell this is supposed to indicate because um, what is wrong with Toni? Did she somehow discover that she is more black than she thought? But she’s dated not-black women before, no? Her and Lizzo are exes, right?

At the fundraiser mixer thing at the Blossoms, a mixed race couple (a white man and a black woman) pointedly walk across the screen. Fangs is posing for Midge, which Cheryl intercepts by hauling Midge off screen as the camera moves on in one long take towards ARchie, who is hanging out at the food spread. The Blossoms own what looks like an enormous oil painting based off of an Audubon print. Why that bird and why this shot I don’t know. Betty approaches him for a chat.

When asked how being a Vixen is going, Betty says that she’s been forced into it by Werther, who thought it would “burn off excess energy.” They both agree that adults are really stupid about the fact that becoming more cardio-fit doesn’t actually make you LESS horny. Plus the outfits and all the looking at boys in short shorts? How exactly would this make Betty not think about getting naked with boys? Betty tries to tell Archie that there’s a weird system of “taking care” of basketball players on the cheerleading squad but Archie is not listening at all. Oh- by the by - now that Toni is off the squad, does this mean Archie is the one boy without an assigned cheerleader?

Anyway, drawn by the power of recessive genes, Archie has made eye contact with Clifford Blossom. He is summoned to the circle of people of the inner sanctum at this party - the Blossom parents, Julian, Uncle Fucking Frank and one more dude whom I don’t know named Dennis. Penelope is wearing the most extraordinarily unflattering terrible dress of all time. I am so fascinated. It’s a long dress with sewn on details all down both sides from the waist to ankle mimicking the effect of a hoop skirt, making the extremely narrow and petite Penelope look as wide as a barn door.

Clifford Blossom wants to discuss Reggie, his “secret weapon.” Clifford, with Julian behind him, says that being forced to share a room with Reggie is a “sacrifice” that he appreciates Archie for being willing to take on. Archie is “cranked” to do it. Dennis says he wouldn’t be able to tolerate such a thing, having to “bunk with a…..” [Korean yellow belly? Lol why does that sound like a species of bird or fish?] Penelope chimes in saying that having Reggie around is “a necessary evil.” Clifford Blossom is obsessed with winning. Oh and he was also a former Bulldog basketball player. He then turns to Frank to say that he was initially skeptical of bringing on a “Korean prodigy.” Clifford is offended by Reggie’s absence, even though he finds what he’s seen of Reggie’s basketball skills very impressive. Archie, possibly because he had that talk with Reggie earlier or maybe because the recessive gene holders communicate better with each other, realizes that he needs to say the right things to Clifford Blossom and tries to appease him, by saying that Reggie “doesn’t want to fall behind on his schoolwork,” which is why he’s not here at this party kissing Clifford’s ass. Clifford, intending that this message be conveyed by Archie, threatens Reggie that if he doesn’t keep smiling while bringing home the championship trophy, there will be “trouble for his family.”

Why? Why will there be trouble for his family? What is Reggie’s father? Are both his parents illegal immigrants? (But how was his father able to enlist for the army?) Is this something to do with his mother’s status? Did they break anti miscegenation laws? WHAT?

Dennis smiles evilly at this threat, but it has no teeth because I have no idea why it’s threatening. Archie is perturbed enough to take his leave right then. We scan to Cheryl, having overheard this entire exchange, also look quite upset.

At the movie theater, Veronica is very pleased to see Reggie. She needles him right away, and he banters right back - I thought you didn’t like movies vs I didn’t say that, I just said my town didn’t have a movie theater. Why oh why is Veronica so desperate though? She hits on Reggie in the most nakedly fishing-for-compliments way. And why oh why are these dudes so brutal to her? Reggie bluntly says he didn’t even remember he might run into Veronica at this theater. Forgot all about her. What the hell.

Veronica rewards his churlishness with free popcorn. 1955 Veronica being overly generous to whatever boy she is interested in is upsetting to me the way 2020 Adult Veronica was never not drinking liquor. When Kevin points out that what Reggie just said was quite rude (as though he himself did any better? Hypocrite.) Veronica says this about Reggie:

“Take a powder, Herman Melville, because that is the real Moby Dick.”

I’ve already made the post about how this is a joke about Asian Dick Size. But also, a second layer of this is that she called an Asian guy a Great White Whale.

Meanwhile, Jughead has taken Tabitha all the way back to his home that Veronica has fixed up for him for free.

Actually the line progression is very hilarious:

“... that is the real Moby dick.”

[pinging music]

Tabitha’s voice: “Wow this is like the Orient Express!”

So they managed to work the word “Orient” in here I guess. Well done. Tabitha has brought Jughead a book gift. “Darkwater: Voices from Within the Veil by WEB Du Bois.” Jughead pronounces it Du-Bwah, which Tabitha corrects as Du-Boyz. We’re not allowed to make a pun about Du Bois I guess, like call him Trois Bois. Jughead is impressed with the title, so Tabitha tells him to read “The Comet” first since he likes science fiction. She describes the actual real story written by Du Bois, which is “one of the first times an interracial relationship has been depicted in science fiction.” She wants to read it aloud together with her new white boyfriend. Jughead looks entranced by the twitchy cuteness of Tabitha as she suggests this activity.

Archie has come back home to find Reggie reading Super Duck(written by Jughead??) on his bed. Reggie wants to know if the cheerleaders looked pretty at the mixer, but Archie is too burdened by the choice of whether to convey Clifford Blossom’s threat to Reggie, and opts the path of least resistance. He doesn't convey the message, and skips out on further discussion about the event with Reggie. Reggie seems to take this as a dismissal of his overture which is intended as an apology and a gesture of friendship.

The next day, Julian is being obnoxious at the basketball practice. Uncle Fucking Frank is ‘in a meeting’ so Julian runs warm up, to bully the shit out of Reggie. At some point he calls Reggie “Banana Boy” which is another ridiculous epithet. I kind of wish they would either not address the fact that hate speech exists or just use the actual examples because this and Yellow Belly just aren’t cutting enough. In any case, Reggie reacts like he’s been called a proper slur. Reggie refuses to pass the ball to Julian, instead giving it to Archie. Archie, however, decides to um, White Knight the situation. He punches Julian so hard he knocks him flat on the ground.

I mean, it can’t be that hard, because Jughead Jones managed to do this on behalf of Ethel Muggs. But the violence startles Fangs and Dilton on the bench, and Reggie grimaces because he just wants to get his NCAA scholarship and get out of this general area.

Archie gives an anti-racism speech to his teammates about Reggie, based on Reggie’s merits. Merits based arguments in service of anti-racism only feed the racism, so I’m not sure this is better for Reggie’s life than just not saying anything. Moreover, in a very strange move, whoever directed this decided to have a black extra stand next to a white one as the main 2 people that Archie appears to be directing his speech at (Julian is still flat on the ground). Um. The look that the black student gives Archie can only be described as disassociated. Archie says that if any player can’t get on board with being true teammates and supporting Reggie be his excellent self, they are free to leave. He even tells Julian “that includes you, too, captain.”

Meanwhile, at the offices of the Blue and Gold, with the world “Gold” in huge font right behind her head, Cheryl hands Toni a check. It sounds like she’s committed a form of embezzlement, diverting funds that were originally intended for something else, on her own cognizance, without Featherhead final approval. Even though Cheryl took a huge personal risk, her toxic ex girlfriend Toni does not give a shit. She even shittily helps herself to a ‘plausible deniability’ option (“Well I won’t ask any more questions.”). Cheryl is so disappointed.

Toni stops her just as she’s about to step out the door, to ask what her plans are after cheerleading practice. Oh Cheryl. She’s twisting her hands, almost breaking them off the stem, when she tells Toni she doesn’t have plans, because she is so hopeful. Toni asks her out on another date. “About what it would mean if we tried again.” Cheryl is so happy her eyes are tearing up, but I hate this. It reads to me just like Toni has realized she has more ways she can use Cheryl than just for the power trip of bringing someone out and taking their virginity.

Meanwhile, Reggie and Archie are sitting together in the boys’ locker room. “I didn’t sock Julian for you,” he says, confirming that that is indeed what he was doing. He’s had a realization, he seems to say, that Riverdale is “just as messed up as any other place.” Then he says the pivotal thing, the only true thing he can say with any conviction: “I don’t know.”

In a weird reward for his outburst of violence, Reggie accepts the friendship overture at last, asking of Archie wants to grab a burger “on the way home.” This is as sour to me as Toni wanting to restart things with Cheryl only after she has the check in hand. Archie says sure.

Jughead has stayed up all night reading the “Comet” story (about a comet hitting NYC and only two people surviving) and talking about it with Tabitha. Why can’t we at least get a montage of this? Why do all the important Tabitha things have to happen OFF screen?

In any case, because the experience was so “swell” he runs immediately to his adopted daddy to tell him all about it. When he gets to Rayberry’s apartment, however, he is told by Sheriff Keller that Rayberry has killed himself. (They are just now covering the body on the gurney with a sheet). “I can no longer continue living this way.” Jughead is deeply upset. Keller is kind enough to say he is sorry because he knows Jughead was friends with Rayberry.

#riverdale #riverdale recap #riverdale opinion #too many thoughts about riverdale #but this time I've gone too far #riverdale ep 7.8 #if you say the word Korean in your show once too many times you summon a korean reaction which is a whole LOT of reaction

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theunquenchablethirst · 4 years ago

Text

Hooked (Jerome X Reader)

Ok, so this is a thing. I was kinda surprised nobody had used this scene yet, because the Gotham fandom seem to collectively agree that Jerome is BIG KINKY and yet the one scene where he canonically has people cuffed up and hung from the ceiling... nobody has touched??? Y'all have been sleeping on that scene! It's fanfic gold! Anyway, enjoy the hedonism. Much love xxx

Warning: SMUT, 18+, GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, BDSM, bondage, cuffs, dom/sub, vaginal fingering, oral sex, biting, spanking, slapping, pussy slapping, light choking, spitting, belt whipping, praise/degradation, marking, mention of scratching, Jerome is big meanie pants mean man

The new mayor of Gotham is having a meeting with his council members, but things take a turn when the Legion of Horribles show up to kidnap them and reader. When the victims are being unloaded from the truck, Jerome Valeska notices reader, because she isn't exactly on the guest list.

Tag list of lovelies: @gabile18 @valeskaduh @fangirl--writes @persephoneblck

Masterlist

I had been working as a housekeeper for the new mayor. It was a good job, but I wasn't appreciated. I was just there to clean and serve when needed. I don't think he even knew my name. I was just hired help to him. To all of them.

He was hosting a dinner for his council that day. I had been placed in the corner of the room with a bottle of expensive wine where I was to wait until wanted. He gestured for me to come forwards and fill their glasses while they started talking about their displeasure with the rising foul play in the city, like it was anything new for Gotham. The chairwoman wanted to know what he was going to do about it. Very little in my opinion. He was just coasting. In too deep over his head. He had been appointed far too fast and everyone knew it. He wasn't going to last.

He made an attempt to save face and talk about how he too was disturbed by the recent goings on and was doing everything he could. Trash, utter trash. As he rose from his seat, the lights fizzled out. I stopped pouring. Had this been any other city I would have assumed it was a simple power outage, but nothing was that simple in Gotham. The security guard closed us in and went to see what was happening. The air turned icy. No, this was not good. Gunshots and screams came from the hallway and everyone rose from the table terrified. We quickly started walking towards a door hoping to make an escape, but there was something about the windows. They were freezing over.

The doors burst open and I dropped the wine. It smashed into pieces as a blueish man in some kind of robotic suit and a weird looking, but huge gun stepped into the room. Was that Victor Fries? Then through the second set of doors another man in a top hat who I recognised as Jervis Tetch burst in with some other strange looking friends.

Before I could comprehend the situation, we were all being cuffed and taken outside. Our kidnappers pushed and pulled us towards a huge truck, all the while the mayor tried to buy his way free. He was showing just how little he really knew about the underbelly of Gotham. I knew just by looking at them that they were probably Arkham escapees and couldn't be bought like a sane man could. They had their own plans and you can't bargain with crazies.

We got to the truck and they opened the back door. My blood ran cold when I saw that standing there waiting for us was Jerome Valeska. Of all the criminals Gotham had seen he had been the only one that had scared me, truly and thoroughly. He didn't have any kind of reason for what he did. He just enjoyed death and chaos. And after his last escapade he looked like madness personified, his scars circling his face and eyes and giving him a permanent evil smile. Dread consumed me as I realized that he was no doubt the leader of this operation and if that was true, we were already dead.

I felt myself jolted forwards. The mayor had pushed me in front of the rest of the council to get whatever was coming first. If I wasn't cuffed, I would have turned around and broke his nose. I was lifted into the truck, my hands were pulled above my head and fixed to two hooks. I had to stand on my toes to keep standing which made it awkward and difficult as they pushed me to the back of the truck.

Was that Penguin? What was he doing here? He didn't belong here. I had gone to Penguin looking for a job in his club when I was 16. He was impressed with my audition, but when he asked my age, he rejected me.

"This establishment is not a playground for children. It's a nightclub." He had told me. At the time I had been steaming mad, but in hindsight he was probably right. Even if he was rude. So, after that, I found it hard to understand why he was here and working with Valeska. Maybe he had been kidnapped too?

The rest of the council were loaded on and hooked. The mayor was still trying to offer them money and pardons. When he saw it wasn't working, he resorted to empty, unintimidating threats. Jerome was completely unfazed and even a little disappointed in the lack of smiles.

"Nobody knows how to have fun anymore, right?" He said putting his arm around Penguin. So, he was a part of this.

Jerome pointed to a scary looking figure dressed like a scarecrow. Johnathan Crane? Crane released some kind of purple gas in the face of a member of a council. She started laughing and convulsing violently.

"What have you got to lose? Except your sanity?" Jerome joined in the crazy laughter. So, this was his plan. He'd figured out a way to forcefully drive everyone insane. With a gas.

I silently prayed to God in my mind for any kind of help.

After sufficiently terrifying us half to death, they left us in the back of truck. None of us could say anything and after a few minutes the truck started moving.

"Is she ok?" I asked looking towards the victim of the insanity gas.

"Who cares?! We have to figure out what they want and get out of here." Replied the mayor.

"Maybe they want publicity for whatever that gas is. Offer them some TV time." Guessed the chairwoman.

"Don't you get it?! This isn't a situation you can buy your way out of!" I snapped, frustrated with their idiocy.

"These aren't normal criminals. They don't want your money. They want chaos and madness." They stood there silently stunned. They had never heard me speak with such confidence, but in that moment, they knew I was right.

After what felt like hours the truck finally stopped.

"What's going on?" The mayor whispered.

Everything was quiet. We listened for any noise or sign of life. All we could hear was our own breath.

Then suddenly the doors flung open once again and in hopped Valeska, Tetch and Crane.

"We're here!" Jerome grinned.

The other two started to pull the council one by one off the hooks and walk them out of the truck, closely watched by Jerome. Until they got to me.

"Wait..." He stuck an arm out to stop Tetch from unhooking me.

"Who's she? She wasn't on the party list." He took a few steps closer to me.

"This poor young girl is an unlucky maid. Wrong place, wrong time. Very bad day." Jervis explained looking at me.

"Would you like me to... dispose of her?" Asked Crane, stalking close to me and lifting needle covered fingers to my throat.

"Not so fast, Mr Potato Head." Jerome said pulling him away from me.

He came so close that we were only inches apart. He looked down at me as if he was thinking for a few seconds then smirked and turned around to the others.

"Guys, go and see that our guests are comfortable, will ya? Get everything ready." He ushered them out of the truck. Fear travelled up and down my body. This had all been a bad situation, but being alone with Valeska scared the hell out of me.

"You're lucky I have a soft spot for pretty little girls." He closed the truck doors and turned to look at me.

"Freddy Krueger there... not so much." He relaxed, leaning back against the doors with his hands in his pockets. "You got a name?"

I stayed silent, more out of fear than defiance. He sucked his teeth and stood up straight.

"I get it. You're scared. Who wouldn't be, right?" He started slowly walking closer. "But things will go a lot smoother if you just play nice."

I still couldn't find any words.

"Aw, come on, doll! I'm getting awful lonely over here." He brought his hands up out of his pockets and leaned against a wall of the truck.

He was quiet for a few seconds and I noticed that his eyes were making their way up my legs. Being held up by my wrists on my tip toes had pulled my uniform skirt up and almost all of my thighs were exposed. I blurted out my name in an attempt to distract him from my bare legs. He smiled.

"What a pretty name. Now, was that so hard?" He pushed himself off the wall and came a little closer.

"So, you're the mayor's dust bunny, huh? I gotta say, doll, I can see why he keeps you around." He chuckled, eyeing me.

My whole body flushed and my face turned hot and red.

“But, uh, the thing about mayors in this town, they don’t last very long.”

"Please let me go." I whimpered.

"Oh, but we're having such a good time! Plus, if I did that, you'd scamper off to the GCPD and I can't have good ol' Gordon crashing the party early."

I scoffed at his suggestion. Not likely. I had a distinct distaste for the GCPD. They hadn't helped me when I needed them. I would never need them again.

"What's the matter? He book ya before or something?" Jerome smiled with intrigue.

"My parents... they... did things to us. When I ended up in the hospital one too many times..." Tears stung my eyes as I remembered. "They left me there and disappeared with my little brother. No one ever managed to track them down."

I didn’t fully understand why I was opening up to Jerome, but for a second, I saw a spark of humanity in his eyes. Like he understood my pain. I'd heard his first kill had been his mother, so maybe he did?

"I'd give anything to see him again." I sniffed and a tear rolled down my cheek.

"Yeah, I had shitty parents too." He sighed. "I killed them both."

I had thought about what I would do if I ever saw my parents again. What I would say, what I would ask. I could never think of the right words. But the thought of killing them, well that made me smile.

"What was it like?" I asked.

Jerome grinned from ear to ear and stepped closer so that we were toe to toe.

“Have you ever stood at the edge of a really tall building? You know that little voice in the back of your head that says ‘Jump! You can fly!’ even though every other part of you is screaming ‘No you can’t! You’re gonna kill us!’”

I nodded shakily.

“It’s like finally giving in to that voice. Like jumping off Gotham Bridge and finding out you can fly. And realising you never have to walk again.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and my heart felt like it was going a million beats per minute. His eyes were locked on mine and it felt like he was looking straight into my soul.

“You wanna fly, doll?” He brought his hand up to cup my jaw and ran his thumb along my bottom lip.

It wasn’t humanity I saw in Jerome Valeskas eyes. It was freedom. A freedom that I had wanted for as long as I could remember. And I could have it right now. He was offering it to me. The only thing standing in my way was myself.

“Yes.” I breathed. “Yes, I do.”

The next thing I knew, his lips were crashing into mine and he had hooked his hands under my thighs and was holding them around his waist. His kiss was desperate and hungry, like he had been starved for days and his grip on the bare flesh of my thighs was rough enough to leave bruises. I locked my ankles together behind him to steady myself from swaying underneath the cuffs. When I did, he drove his crotch forwards, grinding into my centre, a quiet moan escaping me as I felt him.

He slowly trailed a hand from my thigh, up my back and to the nape of my neck, before balling my hair in his fist. I gasped as I felt the sudden, sharp tug of him pulling my head back.

His eyes wandered down to settle on my exposed throat, before yanking my head to the side and nestling in the crook of my neck. He must’ve left a hundred open mouth kisses, but as he started to suck, I felt his teeth sink into my skin. I pulled back with a hiss at the sting, but he wouldn’t let go. He just kept on leaving harsh, red bitemarks and pulling my hair, all the time grinding harder into me.

He licked over the bruises he’d left and gently kissed them, before trailing his tongue up my neck to nip at my ear. He smiled darkly and pulled back away from me, dropping my legs back to the floor. He stalked around me, eyeing me up and down like a predator. I felt him behind me, his hands softly holding onto my waist, pulling me close to his chest.

“You know what’s great about this?” He cooed. “You’re already pre-cuffed.”

I flushed and my core swelled hot, his breath so close to me made my skin tingle all over. He pulled at the top of my skirt and dragged it down my hips, letting it fall down around my feet. He caressed my thighs and then stepped back, tugging at my underwear, playfully letting the elastic snap back to me.

“Y’know...” He said, before the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling. “Marquis de Sade said ‘sex without pain is like food without taste’...”

My eyes widened at his words and my heartbeat quickened.

“So, let’s make this... delicious.”

A million thoughts raced through my mind, but before I could process any, I felt the sharp snap of leather against my ass. I jolted forwards and let out a high pitch yelp.

Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell he was smirking. I could hear it in his voice. I bit my lip in an attempt to brace myself and he landed the belt across me again.

“Please, Jerome...” I whimpered at the sting, closing my eyes.

He brought it down again, making me arch my back in a gasp. A couple of tears rolled down my cheeks and I realised there was little point in resisting the torment. So, I gritted my teeth and prepared for another lick of the belt.

He whipped me once more, harder this time and a small scream escaped me.

“Please!” I begged.

I heard him chuckle with dark delight. The bastard was enjoying this. Of course he was. What else had I expected from someone like him? I tightened all my muscles for the next sting...

But it didn’t come. Instead, I felt him pulling my underwear down. Relief washed over me when I heard the belt drop to the floor and I realised Jerome was finished and was now crouched, ready to inspect his work. He ran his fingers over my burning flesh, taking in the bright red lashes he had left on me.

“What a pretty picture?” He said, landing a spank. “I wish you could see too doll, but having you cuffed is half the fun.”

His voice was dripping with venom and arousal and I could practically feel his grin in the air. He traced the marks with his fingers a little longer, before grabbing my flesh in fistfuls and sinking his teeth in. I gasped loudly at the hard bite. I wasn’t sure how many more of Jerome's surprises I could take. He laughed and ran his tongue over the new bruise.

“Yep. Definitely a pretty picture.” He smiled, giving me another spank. “I like those little noises you make, doll. Why don’t you make some more for me?”

He snaked his hand up my inner thigh and began stroking along my slit, relighting the fire in my stomach. I moaned, biting hard on my lip and tried to bring my thighs together, wanting friction.

“Naughty.” He said, landing a swift slap on my entrance causing me to let out a little yelp. “I need you to keep those legs open for me.”

It wasn’t as bad as the belt. In fact, it felt quite good. The heat inside me swelled as Jerome returned to running his fingers back and forth in my slickness. I hummed softly in my throat, fighting the urge to close my thighs again, my knees starting to shudder underneath me.

“Look how wet you are and I’m barely touching you.” Jerome chuckled darkly. “I wonder what happens if I do this?”

Jerome plunged two fingers deep inside me and slowly started pumping them. I let the warmth roll through me, moaning blissfully. He gently started to pick up speed, making it nearly impossible for me to keep my thighs apart. The faster he got, the deeper he dove, making me tighten around his talented fingers and struggle to keep steady on my toes.

My legs were shaking and despite my best efforts I just had to squeeze them together. As soon as I did, Jerome removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty and spanked me hard.

“What did I say about that?” He barked, laying down another spank.

His spanking felt different this time. It felt pleasurable and sent a thrill up my spine.

“Sorry.” I whimpered.

“Sorry for what?” He spanked me again. “For being a needy little whore? Hm?” Another spank.

“Yes!” I gasped. “I’m a needy little whore! I just...”

“What? You just what?”

Jerome landed another slap at my core. It made my muscles clench, but it also aroused me so much more in a way I’d never thought I’d experience.

“What? What do you want, whore?”

“Please...”

“Big words, princess. What...” Spank. “Do you...” Another spank. “Want?”

“I want... I want you...” I forced, breathlessly.

“You want me? What do you want me to do, princess?” Jerome teased, tracing a finger along my burning entrance, just barely touching me.

“Please... Make me feel good, Jerome... Make me cum.”

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

“Yes...”

“Are you gonna do as I say?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Exactly as I say?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Just please...Jerome.”

I couldn’t take it any longer. I felt so pathetic and needy. I needed him to touch me.

“So desperate.” He giggled sadistically. I supposed he loved seeing me beg.

Then, finally, he spread me open and dove his tongue deep into my wanting warmth. I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lip as he swirled his tongue around inside me. I wanted to grab his hair and feel it in my fingers, but all I could do was squeeze my fists together in empty frustration.

Jerome grabbed a hand full of my ass, gripping it tightly, digging his nails in and rose his other hand to my pelvis front, pulling me down further onto his tongue. I squealed, a delightful mixture of pleasure and also pain from the tugging on my aching forearms. He ran his front hand down to play with my swollen clit, circling his fingers around beautifully.

He grinded his face deeply into me, sliding his tongue up, down, around and around inside me. He pressed his fingers down harder on my clit, forcing a loud moan out of me. I felt the pressure inside me build, coiling and tightening like a burning spring. I squeezed my thighs around his head in a desperate attempt to pull him deeper, his tongue nestling inside finding all of my sweet spots and lighting them on fire.

I could feel myself ready, ready to burst. He was pulling an amazing orgasm out of me and I wanted nothing more than to just let it go. All it took was one more upward jolt of his head, pushing his tongue that last little bit deep enough to push me over. I screamed out in erotic pleasure, letting the feeling flood me like warm water. My back arched and my legs convulsed until I withered, letting myself dangle from my cuffs in a breathless defeat.

Jerome slid his tongue out of me and pulled his face back away.

“You sing so pretty, dollface. Like a little birdie.” He said, squeezing the flesh off my ass.

He gave me one more light bite and a spank, before he rose back up to stand, snaking his hands along my sides all the way. He let his hands wander up to cup my breasts, massaging them softly. He leaned in close and began leaving wet kisses in the crook of my neck. I shuddered, his touch sending a cool tingle down my spine. He let his hands squeeze my breasts slightly harder, then pulled away and crept back around in front of me.

He stood facing me, his eyes locked on mine. They seemed to burn holes right into my flesh, creating a sense of fear in me. I was scared of Jerome Valeska, I truly was. But everything he was doing to me right now... The way he touched me, kissed me. I wondered how he managed it. How he was able to both terrify and arouse me in equal amounts.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t register his hand rising until it was firmly wrapped around my throat. He leaned down to kiss me, dominating my mouth with his tongue, making me taste myself. Once again, I felt the familiar warmth build in my core as I sensed we were not quite done here. He finished the kiss with a little nip to my bottom lip.

“Are you scared of me, doll?” He purred.

I swallowed hard, unsure if truth was wise here. Then I felt him increase the pressure around my throat, not wanting to wait for an answer.

“Yes.” I breathed.

“Good.” He said through an evil smirk.

He crashed his lips to mine once again, his free hand picking up my thigh to wrap around him. I locked both my legs around his waist, wanting to feel him close against me. I felt his erection hard, under his clothes, grinding into me and I wanted it. Badly. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving his taste on my tongue and raised his hand from my throat to grab hold of my face. He took his other hand away from my thigh and pulled at his tie. I didn’t drop my legs this time, instead I gripped tighter as he slid his tie from around his neck and scrunched it in his fist.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered.

I did as he said and he smiled, before spitting into my open lips and gagging me with his tie. I’d never had anyone do that before and it shocked me a little, but then again, I’d never had anyone like Jerome Valeska before.

He backed up slightly, just enough for him to reach down and unzip his trousers and pull down his underwear, freeing his erection. I couldn’t help but look down at it. It was bigger than any I’d taken before and I wasn’t sure how prepared I was. He started to slowly stroke himself, lifting up my chin to look at me.

He gently stroked a single finger across my jaw and then, suddenly, landed a harsh slap across my cheek. I yelped at the slap, causing a dangerous smile to form on Jeromes mouth. I should’ve been repulsed by him. He killed people and was aroused by my pain and fear, so why was I so attracted to him?

He angled himself underneath me so he was lined up and ready. He wrapped his hand back around my throat and then pushed forwards into me, causing us both to let out deep moans.

“You like that?”

I nodded and whimpered through the material of the tie. Jerome giggled darkly and with his free hand, gripped onto my waist.

“Brace yourself, princess.” He warned, through a poisonous smile.

He pulled back slowly, until he was almost completely out of me and then, like a bullet, ploughed himself right back in, jolting me backwards with force. He continued his thrusting rough and fast, making me whimper and bite down hard on the tie. I closed my legs tightly around him, pulling him closer and forcing him in deeper.

He let out a low, guttural groan and moved his hand upwards from my waist to slap me again, spitting at my face as he did so. I closed my eyes to endure the onslaught of him pounding inside me like a raging animal. I felt like a toy, dangling there for him to use as he liked, but still the searing pleasure of it all made me moan lustfully.

“Open those peepers, princess.” He commanded. “I want you to see exactly who’s in charge here.”

I opened my eyes and saw him grinning at me like a man possessed.

“You like this? You like me fucking you?” He growled, gripping my throat tighter.

All I could do was whimper and moan in response.

“I cuffed you and hung you up, hurt you, spat on you... even made you cry! And you still let me fuck you?” He laughed through shallow breaths. “You’re pathetic, you know that? A pathetic little whore.”

Jerome threw another slap at me and I felt myself tighten around his considerable length, taking him all deep inside me. He drove up into me like he was trying to break me open with his girth and I welcomed every inch of it.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He moaned.

I clenched my walls around him, the feeling of being filled by him sending flutters through me as he pushed in deeper and laughed.

“I don’t think your pussy ever wants to let me go, doll!” He grinned. “But I already know you like taking my cock like this, cause you’re such a good girl for me... I like that.”

I flushed at his words. I didn’t know why, but it made me feel good to please him and, in that moment, I would have done anything for him. I could feel my ecstasy creeping up on me, like magma rising inside a volcano. I cried out wantonly, the heat rising as he worked me, exploring every detail of my canal with his thick shaft.

He let go of my throat and moved both his hands to grab onto my ass and squeezed, steadying me so he could pound me harder and climb to release. His thrusts became erratic and sloppy and I could tell he was just as close as I was. I moaned loudly as he rammed into me harder and faster, burying himself deeper and making my arousal burn.

I could feel it coming, so close. I was about to boil over and all I needed was him. Just him. He continued thrusting like a raging animal, digging his nails into my flesh and scraping them along my ass, stinging sweetly. I whimpered at the sensation and tightened my legs.

“Cum for me, doll.” He panted. “I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

He plunged into me, pushing the magma higher and just so close to bursting. It was coming. I could feel it.

He pounded again. So close. Again and again, so hard inside me. Just a little more...

I screamed out, closing my eyes and letting everything go. The feeling of my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave of pure elation. My whole body shook from the force of it and I trembled like a leaf. Jerome continued to thrust into me until he too reached his climax. He growled like a beast and I felt him throb, releasing his hot load of sticky lust deep inside me.

We both relaxed, catching our breath and he stared down into my eyes. He unlatched his hands from the flesh of my ass and brought one round to gently stroke my cheek with his fingertips. It was quiet, but only for a minute.

He threw his head back and laughed like the madman he was, before pulling out of me and stepping back. My legs dropped to the floor and he began to put himself away and zip his trousers back up.

“Well, that was fantastic, dollface. Thanks for playing nice with me.” He said, throwing me a wink.

There was a loud metallic knock at the truck doors and I guessed whoever it was, was trying to get Jeromes attention.

“It’s been fun princess, really. But time waits for no man and I’ve got a party to attend” He said, smiling at me. “Well, more like crash.”

When he turned to leave, I tried to speak, but all that came out was intelligible muttering. He wasn’t going to leave me here, dangling, half naked and gagged like this? Was he? He began walking to the truck doors and I tried to call out.

“Oh! Wait, almost forgot.”

I felt a flood of relief when he began walking back to me.

“I’m gonna need this back.” He said and pulled the tie out of my mouth.

I was glad to finally be rid of it, but my joy was short lived, because he was starting to leave again.

“Hey...” I croaked; my mouth dry.

“Yeah, I’ll have someone come get you later.” He said, too nonchalantly for my liking. “For now, you can just... well, why don’t you just hang out?”

He laughed at his joke and opened the doors.

“Hey! You can’t leave me here!” I tried to shout, but my throat was too dry.

And then... he was gone. He really did just leave me alone, half naked in the back of a truck. How long would it be before someone found me? An hour? Two? The rest of the day?

All alone with my thoughts now, I decided the only thing to do now was wait. Wait and try and go over what the hell just happened between me and Jerome Valeska.

#gotham #jerome valeska #jerome x reader #fanfic #smut

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ray-ray-writings · 4 years ago

Note

(Yes I know this is my second ask but shhh I had several ideas)

So you know how everyone goes on about Dream having both his human form and his blob form? Or some of the side aus where Quackity has his tiny fuck form when he’s on low health?

I’d humbly like to present to you, Pig Techno.

He gets on low health or maybe he’s just forced to transform every once in a while and you’ve got this teacup pig in your arms with the tiniest tusks. He just sits in your lap and “guards” you. Requests you take him everywhere with you so he can keep an eye on people by headbutting your ankle incessantly until you pick him up. Will get onto people later about things they did while he was pig. He makes tiny little snuffles and oinks and wiggles his little hooves around but he’s just so tiny and cute and you gotta love him.

Just Hold. Hold the pig. hold the tiny scarred baby. Acknowledge it’s your boyfriend but then ignore that fact as you kiss his little snoot and give him the best headpats.

(Alternatively Dadza turning into a crow from time to time and you walk around with this ominous sign of death on your shoulder but it’s just Philza tired as fuck and needing a place to rest.)

Again thank you for your wonderful writing! Ever love-🌻

(Please always feel free to send in asks. Ily very much 🌻 and I love interacting with you and reading your asks so please always feel free to send stuff in!!!!) (P.S. This is the last one for tonight! Hope you all have enjoyed!! Maybe more tomorrow, again idk because school is heckin stressful. We’ll see)

This is so so so so so so so so cute!!! Thank you so so so so much for this idea.

So I imagine you’re like at home, sitting on the couch reading a book in front of the fireplace when you feel something smack against your ankle. It startles you a little bit and before you can look to see what it was, you get another smack on the leg and a small oink fills the air. You instantly know what has happened and you set down your book, reach down, and pick up the small pig and set him on your lap. “Are you okay?” You’d ask, your hand coming down and resting on tiny Techno’s back. He lets out a small snort and closes his eyes, as tries to bury his face against your thigh for comfort and warmth. You let out a small laugh, “Okay then. I’ll just cuddle and take care care in this form then” You get another snort in response. “Fair enough then”. You pick up your book once more and go back to reading, the hand that is resting on Techno subconsciously begins stroking up and down. At one point, he lets out an oink and you tear your gaze away from your book to look at him, “What?” you ask. He looks from you to the book and then back to you, “You want me to read to you?” another oink. “Alright then” and so then you begin reading out loud. Soon enough the small snores and squeals that you get when Techno is this tiny fill the air as he sleeps.

If you are out in public and he’s a tiny pig, you have to be holding him. It’s the law… Okay it’s a Techno law. There was only one time that you didn’t follow this law and the bruising that appeared on your ankles after Techno smashed his face into them several times trying to get you to pick him up made sure that you never broke this law again. Also if you’re out in public, people have a tendency to coo over the small pig that you call your boyfriend. They never get to see Techno like this, so small and so unintimidating. So they coo over him and try to pet him, but Techno usually doesn’t let them, snapping at their fingers when they get too close to him. But once you scold him, Techno begrudgingly let’s them pet him. And he will never ever admit it but it actually feels kind of nice to be adored like this. Sometimes when you’re out in public and you’re seated somewhere, he will sit in your lap and cuddle you. These are the times where he doesn’t care the kind of scolding he gets, he will not let anyone near the two of you when he’s snuggled into you. Quackity once almost lost a finger because of how hard Techno had bit him with his tusks. Everyone tends to stay clear after that. And even if they don’t, Techno does have a stern talk with them when he’s back to normal.

I have an obsession with putting things on my shoulders okay? So like imagine you’re out walking with Techno in your hands and your arms get tired or maybe you have to carry something else and can’t juggle your boyfriend and the stuff so you just reach up and put him on your shoulder. Luckily he has enough balance and grace to sit himself down on your shoulder and remain there until you take him off. It would be so cute to see okay? Like you walking around with a tiny pig on your shoulder. You could ask questions out loud and Techno would give you small snorts, oinks, and squeals in response and although you may not understand entirely but you always get the gist. Techno always really appreciates how you act like everything is normal when he’s in his tiniest form. You don’t find it weird or off putting, you just accept it 100% and keep going.

Something that you and him both love is snoot kisses. At random times you’ll pick him up and bring him close to your face and press multiple kisses to his snout. Sometimes Techno expects them and gives you little snorts and grumbles of appreciation but sometimes he doesn’t. The more surprised he is, the louder and higher pitched squeal you get. When he squeals it always makes you giggle and it makes him grumble in distaste afterwards, but he secretly loves it. You just give him lots of snout kisses because you both love it and it’s one of the easiest ways to show affection when he’s like this. It’s just very very cute.

Bonus: Philza sees how much you take care of Techno when he’s like this and asks if he can come to you when he reverts to his tiny form and of course you say yes! So every once in a while, you’ll be walking around the SMP and suddenly a bird lands on your shoulder. It startled you the first few times, but now you’re used to it. People will look out their windows and see your cheerful self strolling around but there would be this big looming bird on your shoulder staring out around the world. Something really funny that I think happens is that sometimes Tommy will run up to you and be like “Y/N! Have you seen Phil? I can’t find him! Also, nice bird when did you get that” and you can’t help but chuckle, “No, no I haven’t seen Phil. Maybe he’s hiding so he can take a break… I’m sure he’ll be back soon and when he does come back he’ll find you… And my bird? Oh thanks! He’s not really my bird, he just comes and visits me sometimes” Tommy approaches you and tries to pet the bird but Philza snaps his beak and him and Tommy jumps back “I’m afraid he’s not feeling very friendly right now maybe next time… Now run along Tommy, go play with Tubbo okay?” Tommy glares at the bird but gives you a nod and runs away. Once he’s out of ear shot you begin laughing and Phil who is sitting on your shoulder begins cawing, which is the way he laughs in this form. “We got him good huh Phil?” You ask once you calm down and begin moving down the path more. He lets out a single caw and you know he’s agreeing with you.

(Small note, I almost feel you get the nickname of Y/N small animal tamer and just anyone that turns into an animal or another form after taking a bunch of damage comes to you and just vibes with you until they heal and can turn back into their full form.

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt drabble #technoblade #techno #technoblade imagine #technoblade drabble #technoblade x reader #ray responds #🌻 anon #anon #asks #pig techno #pig technoblade #i love this a lot

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nicholas-wolfwood · 3 years ago

Note

'straight to video' (lets do from vash for mid this time)

Send me ‘Straight to Video’ for your muse to find and watch a tape containing one of my muse’s memories.

Tape Begins

As the film comes into focus, it looks like the outside of a building in the red light district of some city. Specifically, a bordello of sorts.

The door opened, and a tall man walked out, along with a certain musician. He looked a bit younger, somewhere in his 20's perhaps, and was chatting with the man, running his hand through his messy hair to push it back into it's more familiar style.

"You were good." The man leans forward, as if trying to crowd the smaller man against the wall. "Should do it again sometime. Off the clock."

"Nice offer, pal, but no dice. I might be cheap, but I'm not free." Midvalley kept the larger man's gaze, unintimidated, and held a hand out. "Speaking of which~"

"'Cheap', my ass." The larger man grumbled, but dug in his pocket for the rest of the payment, handing over several bills before backing off.

"You get what you pay for~!" Midvalley watched as the man left, then sighed and stretched his back out, leaning against the wall to light a cigarette. Ironic, wasn't it, that he'd ended up turning back to this line of work? But it was like he'd been told before; 'Someone like you would do better selling what you have, than end up on the streets where someone'll take it for free.' Words he'd grown up hearing told to several of the women as well. Of course, he had his own ways of defending himself if he had to, but he'd rather not resort to it. Plus, it was easy cash.

"Can't believe someone as talented as you resorts to this." Another man walked up, shaking his head. "It's a damn shame." He wasn't too impressive, stringy brown hair, the usual musician's suit, with his guitar around his neck. Baron, he'd said his name was, another vagrant musician that had been playing at the district's bar, and likely had just left playing on the corner for change. He was a proud sort, stubbornly keeping only to music to make money; the picture image of a 'starving artist'.

Midvalley just scoffed at his scorn. Music was his passion, for sure, but on this planet it didn't exactly pay very well, not even for larger gigs. He was enough of a realist to know passion didn't fill your stomach.

"And yet I'm the one that'll be sleeping in an actual bed, with sheets and a hot meal~!" Midvalley gave him a wink, waving the bills tauntingly before pocketing them. Baron huffed, clearly not impressed.

"With some dirty old man in the bed, maybe."

"Still beats sleeping outside."

He heard them before they passed by, two men's footsteps across the street from the bar. Nothing too odd about their appearance, and normally he wouldn't pay them any mind, but that wasn't what kept Midvalley's attention.

He could hear it. He wasn't sure what 'it' was, nor how to describe it, but... The two men across the street suddenly stopped, turning to glance over at them, and they locked eyes.

It was brief, just a moment, before they turned and kept walking, turning the corner and leaving Midvalley wondering if he'd just imagined it. He looked back at Baron, who had spotted them too.

"You know those guys?" Midvalley asked.

"Oh, them? They're this traveling band that just came to town, really weird guys, but I heard them play. They could even give you a run for your money! They're supposed to be performing at that fancy restaurant, 'Wellingtons', or something snooty like that tonight." Baron frowned a bit. "They're the rough sort though, which is kinda odd for this line of work, so I've been avoiding them. Pretty boy like you should probably steer clear, too."

"Huh. Yeah." He barely noticed the guitarist dismissing him and leaving, still looking curiously in the direction the two went. He was so lost in his own thoughts he barely noticed the two women eyeing him up nearby until he heard their hushed whispers to each other. Shaking his head to clear it, he turned on the charm to give them a wink and a wave, beckoning them over when they blushed and one of them giggled.

After a bit of flirting and hashing out some prices, he opened the door for the women to head inside (hey, he still had class!), but paused before going in himself, looking out towards the street again. His thoughts strayed to the saxophone carefully stored in his room.

"Wellington's huh...?" Maybe he'll sneak on over to get a peek. His attention was brought back when his two clients called him over, so Midvalley straightened his shirt and went back inside, shutting the door behind him.

Tape Ends.

#cakotopia #cakotopia: vash #considered one that'd REALLY piss him off but decided against it XD #temporary guest: midvalley #ask #meme response #memories #long post #just in case

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deltawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Courtship: Together

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Thank you all for your patience and happy reading!

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption.

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

AO3 version

“Really, I insist.”

“And I insist you sit down and relax while we finish preparing your party,” Lilia says as he pushes Malleus back down in his seat; the grand stone throne at the top of the double staircase in Diasomnia’s main lounge room. “We’re nearly done, anyway!”

Malleus tries to argue that setting out a few plates of food or lighting a few candles himself is no big issue, but Lilia skips away before he can get another word in. He continues to watch as the rest of his dorm mates decorate and rearrange the lounge into a grand venue befitting a birthday bash. Every so often, he checks his phone and rereads the last few messages you sent to him. You wrote you would arrive soon and would inform him when you were outside. He was getting antsy the longer he waits. There was even a moment where he was unsure if you knew the way to his dorm and panic-offered to escort you just in case. He snuck out for you once, and he’d do it again if you only asked.

The somber doorbell rings, and he immediately shoots up onto his feet. Lilia excuses himself so he can answer the door, but Malleus quickly descends the stairs and catches him by the shoulder before he can leave the room. “I’ll get it,” he says, leaving no room for a rebuttal from his caretaker. He hears several shouts of his name and approaching footsteps, but no one completely follows him into the halls, most likely thanks to Lilia holding them back. Even as he puts more and more distance between him and the venue, he swears he can hear the elder fae’s playful giggles echoing in the distance.

He picks up his already hurried pace at the sound of the bell ringing again. He’s a bit out of breath by the time he reaches the door and takes a few moments to straighten up and calm his pounding heart before welcoming you in. His efforts to appear calm and collected are all for naught, as he feels his breath being taken away when he opens the door and sees you. While you’re always wonderfully dressed, seeing you dressed in attire that is just a smidge more formal and fanciful strikes a carnal chord he didn’t know existed till this very moment. Black and green are the signature colors of Diasomnia. While your dress shirt isn’t the traditional vibrant green, instead it is a dark and rich hue, he can’t help but wonder if it would be too rude or outright ridiculous to ask you to wear it more often.

“Hey!” you greet with a bright smile on your face. “See? I made it here just fine.”

“Thank goodness,” he lets out a relieved sigh. “I thought I may have had to pick you out of a thorn bush.”

You let out a hearty laugh at his comment as he ushers you inside. He observes you as you look around and take in the decor of his dorm. While the architecture of Diasomnia is a typical design within the Valley of Thorns, his own home especially, he knows from a few off-handed comments that some students find the dorm gloomy and even downright unwelcoming. He supposes the green flames that bathe the walls and windows in an ominous glow can be a bit intimidating to those not used to them, but you don’t appear bothered by it at all. In fact, you’re dragging him in the opposite direction of the lounge and insisting that he show you around his dorm.

“I’m not leaving ‘till I see your room,” you firmly state.

“Why would you want to see my room?” he asks.

“Y’know?” You point back and forth between him and yourself. “You’ve seen my room, so now I get to see your room.”

That sounds awfully familiar.

“What is your name, child of man?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” you answer nonchalantly, completely unintimidated or disturbed by his presence. “What’s yours?”

His eyebrows furrow with annoyance. “It is proper to give your name when asked.”

“That isn’t how mutual introductions work where I’m from,” you scoff. “You’re supposed to give me your name, and then I give you mine.” you point back and forth between you and himself to better emphasize your explanation. As if you were trying to make sense of the difference between right and wrong to a child.

He feels the urge to growl in the back of his throat. “You’re rather ill-mannered, human.”

“I don't think any reasonable person would feel safe giving out their name to a tall guy with horns, wandering around an abandoned dorm that’s seen better days,” you bite back. “You aren’t making a great case for yourself either.”

After his mind finishes playing back the very first memory and conversation he has of you, he gently grabs you by the shoulder and leads you in the opposite direction. “Very well,” he concedes.

He guides you down several long halls, past the other standard-sized dorm rooms and other empty rooms. The large double doors of his room eventually come into full view, and when you turn and ask him if that was his room, you give him a giddy smile when he confirms it is. His room is rather plain. The only personal items he has are a few pennants above his desk given to him by Lilia many decades ago, and a giant statue shaped as the Witch of Thorn’s dragon form. While there isn’t anything in particular that he’s embarrassed by you seeing, he worries you might find the lack of personal decor boring, upsetting even. You have little else in your room as well, but compared to his it may as well be a treasure trove.

“Huh,” you step in and look back and forth, taking in his private space in all its unassuming glory. “So this is what a dorm leader’s room is like!”

The first place that catches your interest is the bed, which you unashamedly fall back on, arms spread out to bask in the space underneath you. If seeing you on his bed wasn’t enough to stir his heart, it would be the fact that another one of your shirt buttons came undone, exposing more of your collarbones and the middle of your chest to his obsessive gaze.

“Damn, I’d kill for a bed this big,” you grumble. “Do you know how much of a pain it is, sleeping with a bunch of full-grown wolves, four newborn pups, and a steadily growing deer?”

“You can always order them out of your room at night,” he suggests.

You fall back on his bed again with a groan. “Believe me, I’ve tried! They nearly scratched my door off and kept me up all night with their loud howling.”

You and your deep, unspoken love for animals. It seems it’s coming back to bite you in small ways. “You’re much more pliable than I thought!” he says, laughing behind his palm.

“Whatever,” you lift yourself and give a dismissive wave with your hand. Something catches your eye, as you look him up and down before tilting your head inquisitively. “Aren’t you supposed to have a sash with your outfit?”

He is, but what you don’t know is that he purposely left it in his closet, hoping you would notice and bring it up as you did just now. The reason and overall style of this birthday suit perplexed Malleus, but he’ll admit that it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise when the headmaster dropped it off the other day. He was actually hoping it would be you that presented it to him as you did with Lilia’s identical outfit on his birthday. However, that one time was because the headmaster had another obligation and handed the task to you last minute. It was the first time Malleus saw you since the end of the winter break, when his love confession went awry. It was awkward and nerve-racking, as to be expected considering how things went. But when you smiled and called him “tsunotarou” (much to Sebek’s disdain), it helped affirm the words the two of you had been exchanging over the phone, that you and he are still friends and that you still cared about him.

As he had hoped, you quickly offer to put the sash on for him when he mentions it still being somewhere in his wooden wardrobe. Your movements are swift and unassuming, but he can’t help the way his shoulders tense up when you put your arm around him to wrap the sash around his torso. Once the strip of fabric is properly secured, you run your hands over his clothes to smooth out the small wrinkles and bunched-up fabric. Your actions feel like a burst of electricity against his skin, even though there were several layers of clothes separating your bare flesh from his.

You casually wipe your thumb over the purple gem on his lapel pin before saying, “White suits you.”

“Is that so?” He timidly raises his hands to button up your dress shirt, just the one button that was undone earlier. He knows you hate having it buttoned up all the way. “I thought you said red suited me best?”

“I still think it does!” you chuckle. “But I’ve never considered you in something white until now. I guess I have to make you a white coat now.”

“You don’t have to,” he insists. “The one you made for me is fine as it is.”

“That’s good,” you smile. “All those years of helping my aunt sew and mend clothes for my cousins finally came in handy.”

“That would be your second aunt, correct?”

You’re visibly surprised at his comment, but you quickly give him a rather adorable smile. “That’s right!” you chant. When he asks you why you’re smiling so sincerely, you answer, “You’re the first person who’s been able to tell which of my aunts I’m talking about without naming them.”

“You speak of them often, so it’s expected that I’d be able to distinguish who you’re referring to after some time.”

“Well, shut me up if I mention them one too many times,” you insist, eyes averted from his own as you fidget with the ribbon tails of his celebratory bow near his breast pocket, his birth month and day were written with shimmering gold foil.

“Nonsense,” he frowns, redirecting your gaze to him so he can look you in the eyes. “They’re your family. If they’re important to you, then they are to me as well.”

While it’s true that you speak or make a frequent mention of your aunts during your many late-night strolls with him, Malleus’s ability to tell which one you’re referring to is mostly due to him carefully listening to each of your stories like they were gospels, writing seemingly rudimentary information down in his private journal to later read back by himself. Initially, he kept a record because your stories about the life you’ve lived alongside your rather rambunctious human family intrigued him. As his infatuation for you grew, he hoped that by showing you he remembers these moments of your life that you’ve shared with him, it would be a clear sign that he deeply cared not just about you, but also the family you deeply care for.

“Honestly,” you sigh and give him a playful look. “You really know how to tug on my heartstrings, don’t you?”

Malleus has done his best to remain calm and composed in your presence ever since he came to terms with his feelings towards you. As always, you shatter his efforts completely just by being your genuine self, open and honest with your thoughts. You seem to relish his red-faced meltdown, pulling him into a comforting hug while also laughing at him. He hopes you don’t think it strange, the way he seamlessly leans against you and melts in your arms. There’s a pleasant fragrant he picks up in your hair, fresh and floral, specifically like roses. He knows you like to make and use rose water every once in a while to keep your skin moisturized and your hair healthy. His heart is on the verge of bursting through his chest, thinking about you using it specifically with him in mind.

Is this your way of enticing him? It’s not much, but it’s working.

You pull away from him when your phone briefly rings. “Looks like they finished,” you announce as you skim over the newly received message, most likely from Lilia. “We should probably head there now before Sebek gets impatient and hunts you down like a rabbit.”

At the mention of his well-meaning, but loud retainer, Malleus and you leave his room and walk back to the venue together. Along the way, he acts bold and grabs your hand as you hurriedly walk side by side. You don’t pull away when his fingers interlock with yours. Instead, you squeeze and swipe the callus pad of your thumb over his knuckles, a silent assertion that his gesture is okay with you. A shy smile adorns his face. When he spares a glance over at you, he sees one as well.

“I know it’s only been 5 days,” he nervously mentions aloud. “But is it safe for me to presume that you already have an answer?”

“Pretty much,” you casually answer, but you still sounding quite sure of yourself. It sends his heart, mind, and body into a hopeful frenzy. “But as you said, it’s only been 5 days. I still have 2 more days left before my deadline hits and I’m taking all the time I’ve given myself.”

That cheeky tone of yours doesn’t go amiss. In normal Ramshackle fashion, you’re going to keep him at his wits’ end for your own amusement. He doesn’t know if he should feel more annoyed or more enchanted by you. Perhaps a mix of both? Truly, only you can make him feel this way.

“Honestly,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “You are by far the most troublesome human I’ve ever met.”

He halts his hurried pace. And you do as well. He grasps your still intertwined hands together with his other hand, holding it carefully like they were as fragile as glass. Your skin is covered in scars, both recent and old, that came from years of foraging and enduring the natural difficulties of mother nature. However, to him, these permanent markings are more precious than the rarest gem or the finest silk. Your hand is neither too large nor too small within his. It sits just right within his grasp like they were made for him to hold and caress as he is doing now.

“I suppose that makes you the person that you are,” he smiles down at you after letting out a curt laugh. “and it is you who I love and cherish immensely, with all that I am and ever will be.”

Perhaps it is in poor taste to repeat the same words he first told you during his initial confession, but there are no other words he could weave together that can equally convey to you the extent of his feelings other than these. He knows he’s getting ahead of himself. He knows that he’s agreed to abide by the time you’ve asked of him. His words are his bond, literally and figuratively.

He’s just so damn in love with you. He’s willing to act a bit more reckless than he usually is just to expedite the days where he can have you by his side and be together with you at last.

He barely catches it, but thanks to the quiet halls, he’s able to pick up the mumbled words you speak. “You’re making me lose my sense of patience, dammit.”

“Young master!” Sebek’s booming voice echoes down the hallways before Malleus can press your comment further on. His impending presence is enough to make you let go of one of him and take a step back to set some space between you and him. “Where are you?!”

He was much closer than he sounded, as you and Sebek nearly topple over each other when you both turn down the same corner. Thankfully, Malleus acts quickly enough and catches you before you could fall to the ground, and you thank him shortly after you’ve righted yourself up.

Malleus looks up at Sebek and asks, “Why on earth are you sprinting down the halls?”

“The human has failed to respond to Sir Lilia’s message, so he sent me to retrieve you both!” Sebek states, a bit too loudly for your liking as you click your tongue and rub your temples to relieve the growing headache. Malleus has assured you that Sebek’s volume is something you’ll grow accustomed to. It seems the day has yet to come.

“Well, we’re here,” you halfheartedly try to reassure the boy. “So can you please use your inside voice?”

“You!” now it was Sebek’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Did I not give you an hour-long lecture on proper attire for the occasion?! Today is Master Malleus’s birthday, and you look no different from what you look like any other day!”

“What?!” you look at his retainer with utter bewilderment. “I am dressed up! I even went out and bought a damn blazer just to fall in line with your strict rules!”

“You’re not wearing it properly!” Sebek gestures to your rolled-up sleeves and the two undone buttons of your dress shirt. “Honestly, I expected better conduct from you, prefect!”

“Just shut up and walk, Zigvolt!” you fume and push the young fae down the hall, ignoring his continuous strings of scoldings and high expectations of you. “I’m not in the mood!”

You turn back to Malleus, who silently follows a few steps behind Sebek and you ahead of him. Malleus has to bite his tongue as you make a choking gesture, most likely directed towards Sebek, with one of your hands. He puts his hand up in defense, not wanting to get involved in your ongoing argument with his retainer. Whenever you and Sebek are together, willingly or otherwise, the two of you often butt heads. Your arguments are never too serious. Malleus knows that if he gives you two some space, you’ll both work out whatever it is you’re arguing about and go back to respectfully tolerating each other as per usual.

He wants to ask you about this supposed lecture Sebek gave you about how you should dress. It sounds equally intriguing as it does ridiculous. Unlike Sebek, he thinks you’re dressed rather well tonight.

The scent of roses in your hair is proof enough that you’ve taken some of Sebek’s words to heart, even if he says otherwise.

The food is delicious despite its unusual colors. The cake, although baked by Lilia, was fluffy and not overly sweet like you expected it to be. Your biggest fear of the night was walking into a dorm full of faes who are just as headache-inducing and strict as Sebek is, but thankfully there’s only one of him in the entire dorm! Some students were still standoffish and threw you a few too many nasty looks than you would normally tolerate. Thankfully, there were some students you remember helping out of their dubious contract with Azul during exams week and welcomed you with open arms. They followed you around like a bunch of ducklings, eagerly insisting you try some dishes they specifically made for tonight’s festivities. Whether they genuinely admired you or simply wanted to make even with you for your help, they are a pleasant distraction from your interactions with Malleus earlier.

Love is a strange thing. Unlike a deer, you can’t predict its next movements or manipulate it to a point of disadvantage. Whether you love someone poorly or properly, love isn’t the same across the board. The love you have for your ghostly dorm mates back in ramshackle is comparable to the love you have for your family, precious and irreplaceable. You can share the same sentiments for your flourishing entourage of forest animals you take care of. You even have a bit of love for Grim, even if he wears your patience thin every other day with his dim-witted cockiness.

You’ve been in a few relationships before, but they went nowhere meaningful. They were relationships built upon a foundation of opportunity and convenience, not of mutual affection and a desire for lifelong companionship. You’re also a creature of habit, so the idea of breaking your hard-fought routines puts you on edge, even if it’s for someone you care about. There’s also the fact that you’ve sworn to yourself to not get too involved with the people in this strange world. You don’t want anyone, or even yourself, to feel saddened or at a loss when it comes time for you to depart. You don’t want to inconvenience anyone if you can avoid it. When you return home, you just want to brush this entire experience off as a long and complex dream.

But how can you brush someone like Malleus off as a figment of your imagination? How can you simply forget all those nights you spent talking with him, laughing with him, genuinely connecting and bonding with another person outside your immediate family for the first time in a long while? How can you continue to tell yourself that you won’t get too involved or become attached to anyone in this twisted world after you’ve gone and fallen in love with one of its inhabitants?

You love Malleus, truly, wholeheartedly, and for far longer than you initially thought. You love him, but not to a blind point where you cannot realize that loving him isn’t as simple as acting upon your innermost desire. Even if the feelings you have for one another are mutual, what then? What will a relationship with a fae, a royal fae, entail? Few think highly of humans. Sebek is a living example that there are even faes who actively dislike and look down upon humans. Malleus is at the very top of the social hierarchy, while you are on the very bottom; a magicless human from a completely different world. That’s another problem! What happens once the way back to your home is finally unearthed?

You love Malleus, but no matter how you look at it, a relationship with him sounds nothing more than an outlandish fairytale. Your friendship with him is still a rather delicate issue. You aren’t particular about what others think of your involvement with him, but he can’t exercise the same amount of dismissal of public opinion as you do. He has to worry about what others think of him, because eventually he’s going to be king, and a king can’t flourish if his people think ill of him.

It makes you wonder why he fell in love with you, the most perilous person he could have ever met and involved in his delicate lifestyle.

“Having fun over here?” A playful voice interrupts your deep thinking. Lilia has one of his arms thrown over your shoulder, a gloved hand firmly squeezing you for comfort and bringing you closer to his side.

Despite his petite stature and his boyish looks, you knew from the moment you locked eyes with him on the first day of the school year that he was much older and wiser than he let on. In fact, he’s old enough that he’s been mentioned in a few footnotes in a history book or two. You even cited him as a source for a thesis essay just for a few laughs. He even has a copy in his room. It wouldn’t surprise you if he has it framed and hung on his wall. He’s a very sentimental man.

“Do you need a moment to breathe?” he asks, concern discernible in his voice.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you plead.

“Not at all,” he nods assuringly before excusing him and yourself from the small group of boys you’ve been entertaining for the past hour. He leads you out to a quiet balcony and you bask in the cool night air once the doors behind you are closed. Once outside, you take in a much-needed deep breath and lean yourself against the balustrade railing. He quickly excuses himself again and returns with two flutes filled with a bubbly drink.

“What is this?” you ask, swirling the contents around with caution.

“It’s champagne,” he answers.

You give a quick sniff. It certainly smells like it. “Isn’t everyone here too young to drink?”

“Yes.” He clinks his glass against yours before throwing you a cheeky wink. “But we aren’t.”

That’s good enough of an explanation to have you down the much-needed alcohol in one shot. Lilia takes careful sips instead, but once he finishes his drink, he heads back and brings the entire bottle of bubbly wine for you to finish with him. It’s been a while since the two of you drank together. Lilia has an expensive palette, so you’ve quickly learned to cherish each selection he brings for these monthly get-togethers.

You gesture to the dark bottle. “How old is this?”

“Half a decade. Nothing too fancy,” he tells you while pouring himself another glass. “It’s certainly better than whatever it is you brought last time we got together.”

“Unlike you, I like a little kick in my drinks,” you explain.

“Well, I’m not exactly fond of the sensation of my throat burning up with searing pain,” As if you emphasize his point, he massages around his small Adam’s apple. “No wonder you’re so rough around the edges.”

“That’s a low blow and you know it Vanrouge,” you pour the last bit of champagne in your glass before setting the bottle down by your feet.

“How low?”

”Right in my gut.”

“Then I suppose I’ll need to make it up to you over another bottle,” he subtlety suggests. “Are you in the mood for anything in particular?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Nothing too strong. I’d rather not get hammered in front of a bunch of teenagers.”

He offers a bottle of red wine he’s been meaning to pop open for a while and you accept without a fuss. He takes the empty bottle of wine and tells you to hang tight while he gets the next one. You’re left alone for a few minutes before someone enters the area and settles right next to you. It’s Malleus, who looks just as out of sorts as you certainly look and feel.

“Needed a moment to breathe?” you ask.

“Yes, but I also noticed you were missing and came to find you,” he admits. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you smile reassuringly at him. “Just out of my element a bit.”

“I’m sorry,” he looks so downtrodden that it makes your heart sink. “I had every intention of being close by you for most of the evening, but I’ve been busy speaking with the others that I-“

“Hey, relax!” you stop him before he can devolve any further. “Today’s your day, not mine. Besides,” you lift your empty glass for him to see. “Lilia is keeping me company.”

“Why is it that whenever I see you two together, there’s alcohol involved?”

“In my defense, he’s the one who offered,” you explain, but he doesn’t seem that convinced or assured. “It’s been a while since I’ve had champagne! And it’s a special occasion!”

“I’m not opposed to you drinking, but after what happened last time, I can’t exactly trust you two to pace yourselves or get your hands on something far too potent than either of you can handle.”

He’s talking about the last time you and Lilia drank. You’re not sure what it is the old man brought, but whatever it was, neither of you could stop drinking it even after you two were well past your limits. You both blacked out early in the evening and woke up with one of the worst hangovers in your life. Malleus knew well beforehand that you and his caretaker drank together. He’s even joined a few of your drinking sessions, despite not being fond of alcohol himself. But he certainly did not expect to deal with not only one, but two easily agitated and out of touch individuals the next day.

You still don’t know what was in that bottle.

“Malleus!” A newly arrived Lilia perks up when he sees the man of the hour next to you. “Have you come to drink with us?”

“I’m afraid not,” he answers, immediately followed by the two of you whining in disappointment. “Seriously, what is it with you two and alcohol?”

“You make it sound like we’re alcoholics. Which we aren’t!” you protest, eagerly watching as Lilia opens the bottle and pours you both the first glass of many more to come. “We only get together like this once a month.”

“We used to share a few glasses once a week at some point,” Lilia says as he hands your drink. “But that’s a bit too frequent for these old bones.”

“Says the man that downed half a dozen bottles of beer back in September,” you purposely bring up.

“I didn’t know it was alcohol!” Lilia shrills. “If I did, I would have paced myself better.”

You look over to Malleus and shake your head in disapproval. Your action makes him chuckle, and the urge to fidget with the stem of your glass comes down on you. He really does a great laugh. You’re not sure if it’s your genuine feelings or the alcohol that’s making your heartbeat faster after hearing it. For the sake of your sanity, you’re just going to blame the wine for making you feel more infatuated than usual.

As you and Lilia steadily empty another bottle together, the older fae feels compelled to tell you a story or two about Malleus when he was younger. Despite the latter’s protests, you insist and listen intently about the many times Malleus singed Lilia’s hair as a baby with his fire hiccups or the few instances he’s gotten lost on his quest to sightsee every single gargoyle around the castle. It’s never a proper birthday party without a relative sharing embarrassing baby stories with random guests.

After the second battle goes empty, Malleus suddenly asks you if you would like to walk around the dorm grounds for some much-needed air, Since he’s the birthday boy, you agree right off the bat, only after you get a glass of water in you to help stave off the wine a bit. Lilia gently reminds you both not to stay out for too long, otherwise, Sebek’s worrisome nature might get the better of him and he’ll put together a makeshift search party. If you hadn’t had a few glasses of wine, you wouldn’t have found Lilia’s comment as funny as you did at the moment. You’re a tad tipsy, but not drunk enough that you feel yourself acting or thinking too out of character or lose your sense of balance and trip over your own two feet.

“So, where are we going birthday boy?” you nudge him with your elbow. “Are you going to push me into that thorn bush now?”

“But of course,” he laughs. “I just wish for further respite, that’s all.”

Just as you’re about to mention that people usually like to step away from a crowd by themselves, you feel his smooth fingers interlock with your hand once again. He takes you around the back of the dorm where the expansive and well-attended hedge garden is located. The dark-colored bushes are blanketed in blankets of snow, and more green fires are flickering atop the lantern poles lined along the stone pathways. It’s been a while since the two of you went on a nightly stroll like this. They started out as either you or Malleus running into each other by pure chance and just going along with the lucky encounters. Soon your run-ins became much more intentional and a regular part of your schedules.

He’s the first to break the silence. “May I ask you a strange question?”

“Of course you can,” you nod your head, admiring the wooden gazebo the two of you have now settled underneath for a moment. “Isn’t that why we go on these walks, to ask each other a bunch of odd questions?”

It goes without saying that, due to your racial differences, there were a lot of questions burning in each of your minds about your differing ways of life and upbringings. Most of your questions were innocent and came from a place of wanting to learn and take into consideration his boundaries as a fae. As you grew more comfortable with each other, thus more open and honest, the more comfortable you felt to ask him more personable questions. However, you usually have to answer your own question first before he gives his response in return. You find that this is usually the case when conversing with a Fae. They won’t give until you give back something of equal value.

“In my defense, your blunt answers are refreshing,” he admits, almost gratefully. “No one other than Lilia speaks to me with such genuine honesty. Yet even then, he tends to shroud his words in some layer of vagueness.”

“My aunts were like that when I first moved in with them. Something about ‘learning things on your own,” you recollect. “But I was really quiet and withdrawn when I first moved in with them. They had to lead me by the hand and pummel me with lots of encouragement just to get me to do basic things.”

“You and the concept of quietness don’t mix well together,” Malleus laughs. “In fact, much of how you describe yourself as a child doesn’t seem to match up to how you behave now.”

His comment, while true and most likely just a casual observation, is treading into somewhat dangerous territory for you. “You really pay attention to everything I say, don’t you?” you comment in an attempt to divert the conversation elsewhere.

“I do,” he admits with an unashamed expression “But seeing as you now know of all of my embarrassing mishaps as a child, I think it’s only fair that I get to hear a story or two about yours.”

He leans closer to you, something you normally do to him whenever he gets all quiet and reluctant to say what’s on his mind. You don’t exactly mind telling Malleus about your early childhood, but it’s not as grandiose or as pleasant as he may think it is. What’s a friendship without revealing a few stories about your crappy childhood to each other? What happened to you is unfortunate, and you’re not ashamed to talk about it, not anymore at least. Considering the state of your friendship with him and the ongoing issue about whether you’re going to pursue something more with him or not, you’re not too sure if sharing stories of your past should be preserved for later or if doing so now is alright.

“Can I ask you something first?” you hesitantly ask.

“Anything.”

You turn your body towards him more, easily noticing the way he sits up a little more straight. The faint chirps of crickets and windswept leaves fill the silent void you’ve set in place. He remains quiet, tightening his grip around your hand, still interlocked with his, brushing the back of it with the thumb of his other. The gesture is small, but it’s obviously his way of letting you know that he’s patiently waiting and encouraging you to take all the time you need to sort your thoughts out. He’s looking at you with that concerned expression of his. The one he makes when he feels as though he’s made some sort of mistake or said something that was ill-spoken against you.

He tends to critical of himself, only because there is a lot of expectation set upon his shoulders for someone of his station. It is during moments like this that you understand what Lilia meant when he says Malleus still has much to learn and experience before he can truly take on the mantle of a king. He may be many decades older than you, but his maturity is probably not too far from your own; well put together than most, but still in need of opportunities to grow and learn some more.

That’s the purpose of these walks, to learn and grow from each other. All it takes is a question. But your question, the one that has been swirling in your mind for days, isn’t as innocent as wondering if his horns have nerve endings or not.

Your teeth are on the verge of biting your tongue hard enough to draw blood when finally, you will yourself to ask the burning question on your mind.

“What do you plan to get out of a relationship with me?”

He’s visibly taken aback by your question. If you squint really hard, your question is almost an affirmation that his feelings towards you are mutual, but it is only a minuscule part of a much greater whole. There can not, will not, be any do-overs for either of you. Before you pass a point where there is no return, you need to make sure neither of you is setting yourself up for disaster later down the line. You love Malleus, but you will not tell him what your genuine feelings are just to make him feel better. If word gets out about your relationship and it’s ill-received by his family or, heaven forbid, his own people, you’d never forgive yourself. Becoming King of the Valley of Thorns is his only desire in life. You couldn’t possibly understand why he would want to put himself into such a demanding position. You still don’t understand, but he remains firm that becoming king is what he truly desires in the entire world.

You’d rather die with these unpursued feelings of yours than to allow yourself to be the reason he loses his unwavering purpose in life.

“A relationship, with you,” he tests the words, the very concept, out loud. As if he’s trying to gauge the reaction of the world itself. “It certainly wouldn’t be a dull one.”

That look he gives you, the one that is so painstakingly painted in so much love and affection that can give you several tooth-rotting cavities, directed to none other than you, makes your heart do all sorts of acrobatic twirls and lunges. Your hands seek out the nearest object to fidget with, a piece of hair that fell out of place from your hairstyle. There’s a moment of panic that overcomes him and he goes to pull his hand out of your firm grip, but you tighten it just before his hand can slip away. You like holding his hand, you realize.

“Something’s troubling you,” he remarks. “Whatever it is, tell me.”

“This isn’t the best time to bring it up,” you argue. It really isn’t. Not when there’s alcohol in your body that makes you incredibly pessimistic and impulsive. And it’s his birthday. You really don’t want to make this day suddenly about you. You’re slowly regretting having that second bottle.

“Perhaps not, but it’s going to be brought up eventually, I imagine.” He gently cups the side of your face and forces you to look up at him, right into those green eyes that have always mesmerized you. “Speak to me,” he insists once more.

“I…” you start, but the words die in your mouth before you can speak them. There’s an instance where you nearly pull away from him and are ready to just book it back to your dorm and forget this ever happened, but he keeps you in place almost desperately. He wants you to speak your mind. He wants to know what’s eating up inside you. He wants you, all of you.

But like his desire to become king, you can’t understand why it’s you sitting across from him.

The edges of your vision wobble, and you know that if you’re pushed over the edge enough, you’re going to start sobbing. You hate crying, especially when you feel you don’t deserve to. Who are you to get all emotional when you’re the one who’s overcomplicating things? You’re the one who kick-started this conversation, so why are you the one getting all emotional? Shouldn’t Malleus be the one on the verge of breaking down? He’s the one with the most to lose. The most suffering you’ll likely be subjected to is a bunch of scrutinization and disapproval.

“You know this isn’t going to be easy, right?”

He reaches up with a folded handkerchief in hand, dabbing the corners of your tear-stricken eyes. “I know.”

“I can take a judgemental comment or two. I just don’t want you to be on that receiving end of it because of me.”

“People will always find something to pin blame on or direct their judgment towards, even if the detail is as insignificant as my decision to be with a human.” he calmly explains. It almost pisses you off that he’s remaining calm through all this while you’re going through many ranges of emotions. Malleus is a prince, and it's fragile moments like these that he’s been carefully taught how to navigate and work through. Now you’re just mad at yourself for forgetting something so obvious and vital. Damn that second bottle of wine!

“I’m the worst human you could have picked,” you proclaimed with utmost certainty. “I’m not even from the same world as you. What the hell can I possibly offer you?”

“Well,” He leans even closer to you, closer than he’s ever purposely been and you’re almost compelled to move away from him due to your nervousness. There was a brief moment where you thought that he might kiss you, that’s how little space there is between you and him. While a kiss from him sounds both amazing and absolutely terrifying, you let out an audible sigh of relief when he stops at pressing his forehead against yours. “What are you willing to give me?”

Oh, he’s slick and he knows it. The answer is so obvious now. You’ve made it obvious well before your first glass of champagne. You’re practically wearing your heart on your sleeves, but it’s not enough for him. He wants you to say it out loud so that what he assumes is mutual is in fact irrefutable. He won’t settle for anything less, you’re sure of it.

“All I can give you is my love,” you offer, in a hushed, almost embarrassed manner. “If you’ll have it. If it’s what you want.”

“It is,” he answers immediately, without a shred of doubt or hesitancy. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

If this is truly all he wants from you, then he can have it. He can have every bit of it.

“Are you sure you can make it back to Ramshackle without issue?”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure him for likely the 20th time. “I’m not that buzzed, and you look just as tired as I am.”

You’re right. Malleus is well beyond himself now. His social batteries are thoroughly drained. He needs a nice, long rest to fully process this long evening.

As he thinks about his conversation with you under the gazebo, he reaches out and tenderly caresses the side of your face. Your hands immediately reach up to tug and twist one of your shirt buttons. He once thought your habit to fidget with the nearest object meant you were uncomfortable. A dainty smile etches into his face now that he knows that this habit of yours was a sign that you were flustered by his actions.

He thinks it’s an adorable habit and very befitting of your person.

“What?” you look up at him with a nervous gaze. “Is there something on my face?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Your face is all clean.”

Despite his statement, you wipe at your puffy eyes to ensure there are no visible tears left. Would you think him strange if he told you he finds you endearing like this, your eyes somewhat droopy and your voice hushed despite the lack of need to control your volume? You probably would, but your presumed disdain wouldn’t stop him even if you told him off. He can’t help it. He’s drunk as well, though not because of any wine.

“Are you busy this weekend?” you say into his open palm.

“Not particularly.”

“Good,” you smile against his skin. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Do you now?” He looks at you, intrigued by the sudden presentation of a surprise for him. “Is it safe to assume this surprise is my present?”

“Yup, it’s your birthday present,” you admit. “I found something on the island that you’ll absolutely love. The walk is long, but trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, beaming as he thinks about where exactly you’re going to take him. You have a knack for finding interesting spots on the island. Whatever this hidden wonder is, you seem quite confident that it’ll trump all the others.

“Meet me early in the morning, and dress warmly. It’s going to snow a bit.” you disclose before regrettably pulling away from him. “Goodnight, and happy birthday!” you call out to him one last time.

“Thank you! Please be careful on your way back!” he pleads, but you’ve already passed through the mirror back to the college’s main campus. Hopefully, you heard him. If not, he can always send you a letter through his charmed envelope or message you over the phone.

When he returns to his room to dress down and ready himself for bed, he finds that his desk is occupied by a hefty pile of presents that he had yet to open. While they vary in size, most are wrapped in identical gift wrapping and bows. Presents on the larger scale are fully exposed and have a card set over top of it or tucked in between the gift wherever possible.

He opens some gifts before calling it a night, specifically the smaller-sized ones. Most of them are centered on his skill for stringed instruments; new violin strings, fresh rosin for his bow, and even some sheet music for songs he’s never played before. If it weren’t so late, he’d practice a few stanzas. It’s probably best if he saves his awkward first time playing for another day.

Perhaps he can play for you someday? However, the mere thought of more physical activity causes a surge of tiredness throughout his body and he lets out a deep, bellowing yawn. Playing as host for his own party required much more listening than conversing than he had initially expected. He was also juggling his attention from his guests to you, who was always across the room from where he found himself. There’s a great divide in opinions regarding your friendship with him that, unfortunately, skews more negatively rather than positively. He cannot speak for all faes, but he did not want you to develop any poor opinions or experiences with his people, especially his dorm mates. Seeing the small group of first years keeping you company and even show a bit of reverence towards you was assuring.

You deserve as much praise and admiration as he receives, for you are someone who has well earned his respect and his love.

You weren’t exaggerating when you told him to dress warmly. Malleus doesn’t hate the cold, but he can’t say he likes the way it bites and numbs his minimally exposed skin. Thankfully, the coat you made for him helps stave off the cold rather well. Now if only his gloves could do the same for his needle-pricking fingers.

“Your master sure has the gall to leave me waiting outside in this weather.” He looks down at Gunter, the pack leader of your small bunch of wolves. He doesn’t seem bothered by the snow at all, what with his thick winter coat protecting him from the cold air and the scarf he wears around his neck. Not only did you think to make and put on a scarf for the rugged canine, you even secured it by tying the ends into a neat bow. “I wonder where exactly they’re taking me. Perhaps you have a clue?”

Gunter turns away from Malleus, as if to tell him he’s sworn to total secrecy on your behalf. Malleus can’t help but reach down and pat him on the top of his head. Loyal without a fault. He can see why you keep the wild dog around.

“Are you trying to interrogate my wolf?” He jumps a bit at your unannounced and undetected arrival. He didn’t even hear the crunching of snow and rocks from your heavy boots as you snuck up behind him. If he were wild game, he’d likely have a bullet lodged in his heart by now. “Whatever you promise him, it won’t work. He’s pretty tight-lipped.”

“I can see that,” he quips back. “Are the others staying behind?”

“They can’t stand the cold. Not like this one can,” you explain to him while proudly scratching behind the wolf’s fluffy ears. “The woods are still dangerous, even during the winter. He’ll scout ahead and let us know if we need to change directions and chase off any predators. I also promised I’d share some of our food if he came along, so there’s that.”

“You prepared food for us?”

“Of course I did!” you jostle your pack basket to reiterate your statement. “Did you really think I wouldn’t feed you?”

“You never fail to stuff me with food, so no, I didn’t think you wouldn’t,” he laughs. “Besides, without me, you’d end up with more leftovers than you’d know what to do with.”

“I lived with 11 people back home,” you grunt as you push open the metal gates that enclose the front of the Ramshackle dorm. “So what if I make too much food? You’re really pushing it for someone who gobbles it up all the same.”

“I rather enjoy the way you flavor your meals,” he remarks. “And you know that I’m very particular about my food.”

“Is that why you want me around?” you inquire with a cheeky grin. “So I can satisfy that silver-spooned appetite of yours?”

“What about you?” he questions back with just as much playfulness. “Without me, you’d have no gardening partner.”

“Damn,” you kick a twig and it tumbles down a small incline and into the half-frozen stream at the bottom. “and I thought I was being stealthy about it too.”

Malleus erupts into a loud fit of laughter, with you joining him as he sputters out how strange your shared senses of humor are. This right here. This is why he loves you. You just make him so damn happy! Your companionship and the bond you and him have built with each other is all he’s ever wanted, all he’s ever dreamed of since he was a young boy. There was a point in his life where he had nearly resigned himself to a life of loneliness. Now, look at him, out on a stroll with one of his closest friends. Although now you are not only his friend, you are now his partner as well.

His partner. His.

He involuntarily reaches over and squeezes your hand in his small bout of prideful possession. His enamored smile must have caught your attention as you reach out and poke the side of his face with your free hand.

“And just what are you thinking about, your highness ?"

He has to hold back the snort that he nearly lets out. How kind of you to layout the perfect opportunity to tease you. “Why, I’m thinking about you, of course,” he says, throwing a wink in for added measure.

You let out a huff of air that turns misty as your warm breath mixes and condenses in the cool air. “You should think of something else,” you retort, pulling the hood of your dark cloak closer to your face to cover the side that Malleus can see without strain.

“You seem a bit flustered,” Malleus continues to tease you.

“And you sure are talkative this morning,” you harshly say, but he knows it’s only because he’s “pushing your buttons" as you would say. You do it plenty of times towards him and your friends. This is nothing but well-deserved revenge for all those times you push him and get him all flustered. He’ll need to watch his back in the future. You won’t let him get away with this, not without avenging yourself first.

Oh, if only humans and Faes could get along as well as you two have. Malleus was born right at the end of the last war between his people and many defunct human nobility houses. Relations with the remaining human nobility are better with passaging time, but there is much room for improvement before there can ever truly be a declared peace between both species. A relationship between a human and fae is hardly anything new, the interaction between the two races as old as time itself. As overly optimistic and opportunistic as it surely sounds, he hopes that his relationship with you, no matter how it works out in the end, can be a proper example to his people and onlookers of any other kind than the harmony they once had with humans is still obtainable.

“What you said the other day,” he suddenly mentions. “I feel it would be in poor taste if I didn’t fully address the concerns you clearly have about us regarding my status as a member of the nobility.”

At the mention of your conversation a couple of days ago, your hand grips around tight around him for a moment. “I don’t like facing too many uncertainties,” you admit. “It probably sounds weird, but I do better in situations I have some control over. Being with you. Well, for lack of better words, it scares the living daylight out of me the more I think about it. I don’t even think you know what’s in store for both of us the further we get into this.”

“I have some idea, but to say that I fully understand what’s at stake would be untruthful,” he admits as well. When the court eventually finds out about who he has taken as his partner, he will receive some amount of scrutiny and his decision will be heavily questioned. "However, that would happened no matter who I chose to be with, so long as the person was not someone the court saw as diplomatically advantageous."

“Have you even told anyone about us yet?”

“No. Not even Lilia knows, but I'm sure he has an inkling by now,” he expresses. “As childish as this may sound, but I’d like to keep our relationship a secret as long as possible.”

“And when people start to connect the dots, what then?”

“The only way they’ll confirm their suspicions is to confront either one of us,” he answers matter-of-factly. “But whatever difficulties may be lined up for me in the future. So long as you’re by my side to support me, I'll endure whatever it is that is put forth in front of me."

“You’re right, you sound really childish,” you sigh. “But you also sound so damn sure yourself,” you grumble under your breath, but his pointed ears pick up on your comment despite your hushed volume. “I can’t say I feel the same way just yet. But I hope that, whatever comes up, we can do what we always do and just… talk it out.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiles. “After all, isn’t that the purpose for these walks of ours? So we may work through these difficult conversations with each other?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, a clear lopsided smile on your lips despite you not facing directly towards him. “I guess they are.”

Just as Malleus is about to say something else, you suddenly stop when a distant howl sounds. “We’re close,” you tell him.

“Now, where exactly are you taking me?” he finally asks you.

“Sorry,” you shake your head. “I can’t tell you just yet.”

“Not even after I asked so politely?”

“Nope!” you beam.

Still curious about this supposed wonder you’re escorting to, he continues to pester you with questions, trying to pull some sort of hint out of you. You’re not usually as tight-lipped as you are now. Your persistent secrecy only excites him the further you two travel.

Apparently, what you constitute as nearby is much further than what he would consider close. While still within the woods, he can faintly hear ocean waves crashing and a few seabirds cawing about. You’re taking him towards the southern part of the isle, clear by his now unbutton coat because of the warmer temperatures and the tuffs of green grass poking out through the half-melted snow the further you take him. The place finally appears before him, with tall brick walls and a metal gate, both of which are covered in thick, frosted ivy leaves. He can make out of a few shapes past the gate, but not enough to confidently guess what they are exactly.

“Will you tell me now?” Malleus asks once more while you busy yourself by giving Gunter some well-deserved ear scratches.

“What do you think?” you look down and ask Gunter. He makes a deep grunting sound in response to your question. “I guess you’re right,” you nod in understanding before looking up towards Malleus and saying, “The locals call it a gargoyle graveyard.”

“Gargoyles?” he says with clear excitement, like a young boy being told that a pile of candies and toys awaits him in the other room. "You took me out to see gargoyles?"

“Yes, but also no,” you say. “They would have been if they weren’t sculpted incorrectly.”

“So it’s a place where inoperable gargoyles are put?” he asks, still intruiged.

“The family who owns this piece of land mentioned that they also put gargoyles in here that were made purely for art’s sake,” you added. “But can it really be called a gargoyle if they weren’t made to act as a gutter in the first place?”

Malleus’s heart always skips and beats faster whenever he’s around you. That last comment you made nearly stopped his heart altogether. He once had a conversation with Silver regarding the stark difference between gargoyles and statues. The boy couldn’t fully grasp the difference, but it seems you can right out of the blue. By the Great Seven, is your ability to tell the difference between a purposeful gargoyle and a mere decorative grotesque really what’s making him go red in the face?

Yes. Yes, it is.

You easily notice this as well, as you comment how his complexion is almost the shade of a ripe tomato, although you’ve been busying yourself with undoing the many locks and chains secured around the front gate and didn’t even look over to him since. “I can see the tips of your ears getting all pink in my peripheral,” you explain with a hint of laughter arising in your voice. You’re clearly amused by all this. “Who knew my basic understanding of gargoyles is enough to set a fire in your loins!”

“Must you tease me at every opportunity?” he groans. "And so crudely too."

“What? Are you having second thoughts about me?” you jokingly ask.

“Somewhat,” he answers back, though it’s only a half-serious answer.

You toss aside the last chainlink and rusted lock keeping the front gate secured before saying, “I won’t be mad if you bail out now. It’ll save Sebek the future anguish when he finds out.”

“Sebek is already at odds with our friendship as it is,” Malleus clarifies. “Besides, I think the boy is rather endearing when he’s upset.”

“Endearing,” you mockingly repeat. “More like a pain in my ass.”

“Give him some time. He’ll grow on you,” Malleus encourages.

“For your sake, he better,” you glare at him for a moment. “Alright, that’s enough relationship talk for the day. These gargoyles won’t ogle themselves!”

No, they won’t, and it’s music to his ears that you want to appreciate them together.

Together, with him.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst writing #twst malleus #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #fanfic: courtship #x reader #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns

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pride-moth · 4 years ago

Text

A Latte for the Prince [Stolitz Week Day 6 - AU)

Ao3 Link

Even Info Link

Rush may be through for today, but Blitz is still not any more thrilled to be on shift. He shouldn’t even be in the little Berlin coffee shop today, but nooooo, Verosika just had to “get sick” like she usually magically does when there’s a festival happening. Their boss doesn’t seem to mind as long as someone is in. “I only pay her for the days she’s here” is what he always says.

Blitz minds, though, Blitz minds it a lot. Especially considering he still has a bone to pick with her about that white streak he had to dye into his black hair like an emo tween just so she wouldn’t tell their boss he had used the walk-in fridge for a hookup. Which is a serious issue, for some reason.

He yawns as he finishes another order. “Order for Darren?” he asks tiredly and a small round man in a suit and tie takes it from him.

He looks towards the clock. One more hour. That’s doable, he thinks as he goes to clean a table for the time being only to be interrupted halfway through by the most passive-aggressive throat-clearing he has ever heard.

“Just a moment,” he sighs and finishes cleaning the table but not without receiving an absolutely exasperated groan in return.

Blitz makes his way back to the counter to see an extremely tall, slender young man standing there, arms crossed and very displeased-looking. He’s objectively beautiful, almost ethereal-looking, but that has never made a good customer, so Blitz steels himself for an experience. “Good afternoon, what would you like?” Blitz asks in German, but the question seems to fall on deaf ears. He tries again in English.

“Ah, you do know the lingua franca,” the man remarks.

Blitz rolls his eyes, “Yes, like every other person who’s gone to school in this country and then decided to work in a big city, what would you like to order?”

The customer hesitates for a moment, looking mildly offended. “A big Latte Macchiato” is all he ends up saying, though.

Blitz eyes him suspiciously. Between the soft beige cardigan this man is wearing over a simple white t-shirt, his tight black jeans and his general demeanour, he would’ve expected an order that would’ve prompted him to send this guy over to Starbucks and be done with it. “Coming right up,” he says, “Name?”

“Stolas, obviously.”

Blitz looks up in confusion and meets the stranger’s amber eyes which are, objectively, beautiful. “What?”

“Stolas Goetia. Duke of Trez.”

“What now?”

“Great Britain.”

“My condolences.”

That makes the stranger, Stolas, laugh a little. He still tries to look mad, but his whole face has softened, his piercing blue eyes study Blitz a bit more intently. “You really don’t know me?”

Blitz scoffs. “Do I look like someone who knows minor British aristocracy?”

“I’m actually 55th in line for the throne.”

Blitz smirks. “Well, if you ever need anyone to murder 54 of your relatives to get there, give me a call.”

Stolas looks at him silently, his face - angular but with just enough softness to it, high cheekbones and immaculately shaped eyebrows, framed with short black hair with a slight midnight blue tint to it - flushing with the smallest hint of pink. “That would be nice, actually. Not the murder! But maybe I would like to give you a call.”

Blitz snickers, tilts his head to the side and plays with a bit of his hair. “Oh, so you’re so famous that you have to ask out the first person who doesn’t recognize you from the bottom shelf royalty tabloids?” he says, teasingly. Stolas is handsome, no doubt, but Blitz wants to see him squirm a little. There’s no fun in bad dating decisions without a little squirming.

“I, I, I didn’t! I wasn’t! I- Uhm. You are a very handsome young man, unintimidated by my status and I would like to get to know you.”

“You’re C-Tier British royalty and I serve ten politicians with actual power here every week, the only person who would intimidate me is Dwayne Johnson.”

Stolas blinks. “Because he’s a Hollywood actor?”

“Because he’s as big as he is tall and probably the only person I would allow to absolutely rail me.”

Stolas blinks again. And again. And again. “So you usually…?”

“I don’t speak about my whipping capabilities in the workplace, but be assured that I might be short, but that doesn’t mean I’m submissive.”

Stolas nods. “Okay,” he says, a little too breathlessly for comfort.

“If you would leave me to make your coffee now,” Blitz says, calculatedly calm.

Stolas nods tightly, without breaking eye contact. “I’ll just sit down, uhm, over there?”

“You do that.” Blitz turns towards the coffee machine and gets to fulfilling the order, but he still pulls his phone out while the milk is frothing and googling Stolas’ name.

There’s a surprising number of headlines for someone who Blitz had not ever heard the name of and who is Duke of a laughably small piece of British land. Excessive partying, rampant homosexuality, queer activism including property damage and, most interestingly, a headline reading, “House of Lords member caught tied up in London BDSM Dungeon.”

Blitz smiles to himself. He’s going to have some fun with that one.

“Order for Stolas,” he sing-songs when he’s finished with the Latte and Stolas comes over with a big smile on his face.

“Thank you very much! I’ll be in town for another week, so maybe you could take me sight-seeing sometime… What’s your name again?”

Blitz smirks, his eyes gleaming as he looks at Stolas. “That’s definitely one way I could take you.”

Stolas almost chokes.

“Also, you didn’t ask before, you were too busy discussing your own name. It’s Blitz, by the way, the O is silent?”

“What O?”

“That’s the spirit. My next day off is Monday, call me then,” Blitz says smoothly and slips Stolas a piece of paper with his number on it.

Stoals only nods again, wordlessly and leaves the shop with his coffee in hand and the dumbest little grin on his face.

#helluva boss #stolas x blitzo #stolas x blitz #stolitz #stolitz week #fanfiction #my writing #fic writing

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imthepunchlord · 4 years ago

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Deadly Dance

Continuation of this.

Fantasm shouldn’t be too surprised that the Snake was fast. They were lethal creatures, relying on their quick, unexpected strikes to capture their prey. Viphyr was no exception. She was fast, striking out with certain slashes, her “fangs” set to hit him. Fantasm even had to move to avoid her, and it took him a minute to realize that she was working him away from the two heroes.

Mildly impressed, he humored her, moving as she guided him, dancing along with her movement, dodging those hooks, most of them getting closer than he would like. But he couldn't deny the slight thrill he felt with how close those fangs came, how this Viphyr had him constantly moving, barely able to get his own offense out.

It was invigorating.

Since his cousin had opted out of martial arts, leaving Felix alone to continue, it's been a good while since he’s had someone to go toe to toe with, to keep him on this edge.

But Fantasm could only humor being guided for so long. He jumped up, avoiding a horizontal slice, watching her expression shift to surprise as he moved to kick her chest. She leaned away, and he caught sight of her oval pupils thinning. He didn’t give her a chance to continue her attack, his fans were now coming at her, the edges cutting the still air as he took charge. Now she danced around him, avoiding his fans to the best of her ability.

Like her, he guided her, moving her to where he wanted her to go, controlling where she danced to. She realized too late that he had her cornered, with no easy way to elude him. His eyes settled on her wrist, where he could her miraculous, gleaming against the light cyan wrist guard. He had two minutes left, and he won. He just had to stun her and pluck that bracelet off—

She caught him off guard when in a flash, she disappeared from him.

Fantasm faltered, surprised.

Where had she gone—

There as a flash behind him, hooks latched onto his underarms, and he was sheepish to admit that he had let out a bit of a squawk of surprise as he was flipped.

He grunted as he hit the ground, barely opening his eyes in time to see her diving above him, aiming for the pin on his chest. He rolled away, avoiding her heavy land.

Another beep rang through the air.

One minute left.

It was a reality to him that this was it.

One minute was not enough to win against that, and by the gleam of her eyes, he knew that she knew that as well. This was not an encounter for the Peafowl to win, not while the Snake had a trick he didn’t know. Twirling his fan, he threw it like a dart towards one of the unmoving heroes.

The diversion worked as she gasped in alarm, quickly moving to intervene and save the frozen heroes. Picking up his fan, she turned, and found that the Peafowl was gone. Knowing she had seconds before time resumed, she fled herself, finding that the tool disappeared from her gloved hands. Viphyr grimaced.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Hawk Moth wasn’t supposed to have something as dangerous as the Peafowl. She sighed, whispering, “Fangs back.”

The transformation fell away, and her kwami floated near, giving her a wary gaze. They were going to be more on task than anticipated.

“What was that?” Felix asked immediately, turning to eye Duusu who settled herself on a fence, grimacing at her exhaustion. When she glanced at him with her ruby pink eyes, he stressed, “How can she have that power? How did she even appear with Fowl Play active?”

Duusu didn’t answer immediately, just eyeing him, like she was debating if this was information she wanted to share or not.

“Duusu,” Felix stressed in a commanding tone, recalling what his uncle told him. Kwamis were bound to obey those who wore their miraculous.

With a loud sigh, Duusu turned to him, revealing, “What you just experienced was Serpentime.”

He gave her a raised brow, prompting her to elaborate. Reluctantly, she did so. “It’s a counterpart to Fowl Play, but instead of entirely freezing time for five minutes, the user has the power to move in and out of time. Time affects the physical realm, and she has the power to leave it entirely, though only for a few seconds. It can give an impression that she’s teleporting. Only thing is that she can’t move forward or back.”

Felix grimaced. “How do I counter that?”

“You don’t,” Duusu said simply.

When Felix gave her a glare, Duusu shrugged, unintimidated. “Both Peafowl and Snake were designed this way,” she said, “as a precaution for any misuse for either. The Peafowl typically wins, but that’s not to say the Snake never does.”

“Why is this so?”

“You can count the Snake as my… dark counterpart. The yin to the yang. Moon to the sun. Whatever floats your boat.”

“...Are there any others that I should be aware of that can rival me? That can rival Fowl Play?” he asked.

“The Fox has a power that can, but it's more limited in comparison to the Snake. Like you, the Snake can be there body, mind, and soul. The Fox can only be active in Fowl Play with mind and soul, their body left in the physical realm.”

Felix ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. There was no doubt in his mind that his uncle was going to be gloating of this loss. Which left Felix wondering if his uncle even know about the Snake’s activity.

He opened up his jacket, and Duusu slowly went in, settling in one of the interior pockets. Either way, there was going to be a Snake slithering after the two heroes now, always shadowing them, on guard for the Peafowl to come out again.

Felix at least was a little more aware and ready for next time.

#miraculous ladybug #kwami swap #snake!Marinette #peafowl!Felix #peacock!Felix #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #duusu #sass

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dragonheart-swtor · 4 years ago

Text

Friends and Fears

Summary: Eris is the Alliance Commander, Cipher Nine; Reykal is the most recent champion of the Great Hunt. Each of them finds someone utterly unintimidated by them in the other - something both of them need, especially when discussing old fears usually best left buried. Or, Just a quick one-shot of a bar chat between friends that should've taken me a week and instead somehow took me the better part of a year because I kept getting stuck. (Title subject to change, I've been sitting here for twenty minutes and can't think of anything better so it's either this or the doc name which is just "Spooky", if anyone comes up with anything better feel free to give me a heads-up)

Tags: Female Bounty Hunter & Female Imperial Agent, alcohol consumption (not excessive)

Find me on AO3 at Dragonheart37!

-----

The tiny, grimy cantinas that dotted the streets of every space station like this one were always bustling with activity, rowdy with fights and gambling and music, and this one was no different. It wasn't the kind of place where you couldn't take your hand off your credit purse, but it definitely was the kind of place you wanted to keep a vibroknife on you at all times, just in case. Any self-respecting citizen – Imperial, Republic, or Alliance, and probably Zakuulian too – would steer clear of a place like this. Which was, of course, exactly why it was the best kind of place for an Alliance Commander and a Great Hunt champion to disappear; Reykal always fit right in without even trying, and all it took was a change of makeup and a less formal outfit for Eris to go unnoticed in a place where no one was looking for her.

Reykal had promised this particular spot had the best food and drinks this side of the station, and she wasn't wrong – the fare here was greasy, but good, and came in truly enormous proportions. Better yet, it was busy and loud, and after a quick scan and sweep for bugs – purely out of habit, of course – Eris could actually believe that she didn't need to be on high guard for people listening in. It was nice to just settle in and amiably listen to Reykal spin dramatic stories of her most impressive hunts – even if she'd heard one or two of them before – and of her most recent ones as well, side jobs taken while the Alliance didn't have anything of import for her.

She was just wrapping up one such story when Eris spotted the Sith.

Eris, through sheer power of habitual control, did not stiffen at the sight of him – masked and robed in full Sith garb, clearly just passing through the cantina on his way out from a back room somewhere. She tracked him for a moment – but he didn't turn to look at them, just swept past as if the room were empty instead of crowded with people. She carefully didn't turn to watch him go, despite the urge to do so and despite seeing Reykal turn out of the corner of her eye. Instead, as soon as she was satisfied he wasn't approaching them, she locked her eyes on the reflections in her glass to the exclusion of all else, using the visual focus to shutter everything else away. If there's nothing else in your mind, there's nothing they can read. Just glass, light and color reflected over the curved surface, playing shapes over the pale green liquid inside, tiny bubbles floating to the surface – no thought, no emotion, just glass. Nothing they can read.

“Kinda spooky, aren't they?”

She glanced up at Reykal's interruption. The Togruta sipped her brandy. “Sith. Jedi. Force people.” She wiggled her fingers as if that needed further explanation. “The way they move, the way people move for 'em without even realizing. How they answer questions you haven't even asked sometimes.” She snorted into her glass. “Fuckin' spooky.”

Eris chuckled despite herself, tension easing at the sheer casualness of Reykal's blasphemy. The Sith was gone, the door swinging shut behind him as Reykal spoke – out of the usual range of mental contact. Reykal's eyes sparkled with humor too; she stretched her arms out in front of her across the bar like a cat, all relaxed grace despite her bulk. “It's not the way I would have put it,” Eris admitted, “but I can't say you're wrong.”

“They make everybody nervous. It's not just you. Though I'm surprised you haven't gotten more used to 'em, considering.” She smiled when Eris blinked, a little surprised. “You hide it well. But you quit moving for a split second every time one of 'em comes into the room. You spend more time watching them than me, or Dad, or Hylo. Which probably isn't good for your wallet, knowing Dad and Hylo.” She grinned to take the edge off the joke, points of her fangs still hidden.

“Apparently I don't hide it well enough,” Eris remarked, sipping her own drink – some bubbly lime-and-mint mix she'd already forgotten the name of that the bartender promised tasted almost exactly like its alcoholic version – as she scanned the crowd once. “I've had some... bad experiences. Let's just put it that way.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. You worked with 'em back in the Empire, right?” Reykal rested her chin on one hand, fingers tapping her temple absently. “I did a job for some Intelligence guy, back in the day. Forget his name. Seemed pretty skeeved by the whole thing. Ended up having to kill him after he did try to murder me. 'Loose ends,' or whatever.”

Eris blinked. “Oh, that was you? I think I heard about that.”

Reykal raised her eyebrows. “Really? I thought it was supposed to be under the table, nobody was supposed to know about it.”

Eris laughed aloud at that, shaking her head. “Intelligence always knows.” She paused. “Which probably wasn't the most comforting thing to say, was it?”

“Probably not.” Reykal grinned at her again. “I figure if Intelligence was going to come after me, they'd have done it by now.”

“You were a low-priority target,” Eris assured her, smiling back wryly. “We had bigger fish to fry, at the time. That would have been right before the Dominator blew up and everything went to hell.”

“Bigger fish to fry, eh?” Reykal chuckled. “I'm insulted.”

“Intelligence deals with pretty big fish. Be glad you weren't one of them.”

“Speaking from experience?” Reykal asked, arching an eyebrow.

Eris shrugged, sipping her drink again to hide her smile. “That's classified.”

Reykal scoffed, mocking exasperation at the old half-joke. “'That's classified.' Someday I'm going to have to get some actual drinks in you to get all those classified stories out of you.” She winked. “Personally, I think you just can't hold your alcohol and that's why you're never caught dead with it.”

“That's also classified.” She didn't bother to hide the grin this time.

“Kriff's sake,” Reykal exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “You're impossible. I don't know why I bother.”

Eris laughed. “I'm sure you're very put-upon to deal with me.”

Reykal downed the rest of her glass and turned to flag down the bar droid; Eris took the opportunity to sip her drink and sift through her thoughts again, deliberating. “You're right,” she murmured after a moment of quiet. Reykal turned back to her, raising an eyebrow, and she clarified, “The Sith do... make me nervous. They all do, but... Sith especially.” She huffed a half-hearted laugh. “It's not exactly a secret, at least not to them. They can feel fear a mile away.”

Reykal took her refilled drink absently, attention focused on Eris much more seriously than she had been before. “Working with 'em doesn't help?” she asked. “You and Beniko seem... close.”

Eris tapped the rim of her drink, staring down into it as she thought through her next words. “Minister Beniko and I have worked together closely for long enough that I'm no longer concerned about her...” She trailed off.

“Acting like a murder-hobo Sith?” Reykal filled in. Eris gave her a look that made her snort and raise an appeasing hand. “Sorry. But you were thinking it too.”

“I would have phrased it more tactfully,” Eris sighed, “but... yes. Sith... they tend to use their power to its utmost to control those around them. It's just how things are in the Empire. And they have a great deal of power.” She pursed her lips. “Do you know some cultures worship Force-users as demigods?” Reykal shook her head. “It's true. And who can really blame them?”

Reykal nodded. “A lot of people are scared of them. Not just in the Empire, either. Anyone in their right mind would be wary.”

“It's... bizarre, to be equal to a Force-user,” Eris admitted. “In the Empire, even the lowest Sith acolyte ranks above the Force-blind. To have Minister Beniko and Darth Nox at my war table – my war table – and not be answering to them as superiors... I'm still not used to it, even after all this time. And Master Garen'ishta, and the Barsen'thor – even Senya. I'm used to having to be afraid of them. At this point, I'm not sure I'm capable of not being nervous around them. Not...” Not after Jadus. And Zhorrid. But that she couldn't say out loud, not here, not even to Reykal. “Not after working directly under them for so long.”

Reykal hummed sympathetically, running a finger around the rim of her glass. “I don't blame you. I talk a big game, but really, Force-users have been some of my most dangerous targets. There's a reason most hunters don't take contracts on them at all.” She took a sip of brandy, jaw working as she thought. Quietly, barely audible over the noise of the bar, she added, “D'you actually think any of 'em might turn on you?”

Eris pursed her lips, but shook her head. “Not at this point. The Jedi will fight alongside us for as long as they're convinced our cause serves the greater good – no matter how much the Barsen'thor pretends to be aloof. If Nox were going to turn on us, she would've done it by now; she's had ample opportunity, and in any case, she hates Zakuul and Arcann for stealing her place in the Empire from her too much to ally with them. Senya... Senya will stay loyal for now, at least. And Minister Beniko has long since proved her loyalty, as I said.”

“Well, that's good, at least.” Reykal cracked a grin. “Better'n if you were actually logically worried about 'em.”

Eris smiled. “Are you insinuating that I'm being illogical?”

“Hey, you said it, not me.”

“You are insufferable,” she said mildly, taking another sip of her drink.

Reykal laughed aloud, fangs flashing in the light. “Eh, that's why you like me. None of that faffin' about trying to be dainty and diplomatic about it.”

Eris shook her head, still smiling, but didn't deny it. It was true, really – Reykal was perhaps the only person she talked to on a regular basis who wasn't constantly embroiled in politics and diplomacy, who was brashly open about her thoughts and feelings. It was refreshing, if she was honest – a chance to relax for once, to not constantly have to be watching her every word and gesture. To pretend they were just two friends at a bar and nothing more, for a little while.

Reykal spun around on her stool and leaned back against the bar, flipping her back lek over the edge so it wouldn't get crushed. “We should go shooting after this,” she offered, grinning lazily at Eris. “See if your pistol aim's gotten any better.”

Eris arched an eyebrow, eyeing her skeptically. It was hard to tell in the cantina's soft mood lighting, but she was fairly sure Reykal's lekku were flushed a deeper red than usual. She half-smiled. “I think you've had one too many drinks for that, Master Candessan.”

“Pah, too many drinks. I've shot in worse situations'n this, more drunk'n this.” She grinned again to take the edge off the comment. “Suit yourself, though. What do you do for fun, anyway, when you're not gettin' swamped by hell-knows-what kinda work from the Alliance?”

“You might have heard of this thing called 'reading,'” Eris said, allowing herself an impish grin.

Reykal scoffed playfully through her teeth. “Oh, sure, now the high-and-mighty Imperial act comes out.”

“Don't tell me you're a literary connoisseur.”

“Doesn't mean I don't read.” She stuck out her tongue at Eris in a gesture so childish it startled a genuine laugh out of her. “Miss Hoity-Toity Imperial-Logo-Boxers over here, makin' fun of us peasant folk. What's the Alliance come to?”

Eris swatted her shoulder, trying and failing to stifle her laughter. “Why do I tell you anything?”

“'Cause you like me,” Reykal reminded her cheerfully. She slid off the stool to stand next to the bar. “C'mon, finish your drink already and let's get outta here. We can go window-shopping on the boardwalk and see if there's anything to spend the night on.”

“I do have work to do tomorrow,” Eris told her, but she swallowed the last of her drink and stood as well, sliding a credit chit across the counter to the bar droid as it clanked over.

Reykal wagged a scolding finger at her. “Ay, none of that. You said we'd get a night on the town, you're getting a night on the town. You work yourself too hard.”

“Very well,” Eris agreed, shaking her head with a fond smile. “But I draw the line at drunk bounty hunting or robbing anyone in an alley.”

“You're no fun.” Reykal offered her arm with a dramatic flourish and Eris took it with another laugh, letting the bounty hunter lead her out the door.

#swtor #swtor ocs #swtor fanfiction #imperial agent #bounty hunter #erisine #reykal #eris has ✨trauma✨#reykal's really good for her honestly though #'casual blasphemy' is exactly what she needs sometimes #the contrast in voice between these two cracks me up honestly #fanfiction

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lord-explosion-baku · 6 years ago

Text

Entitlement

Yandere!Hawks x fem!reader

Warnings: yandere, yellow sour fruit, dark themes, semi dubious consent, swearing

A/N: I started this before Halloween and just never fucking finished it but I figured that if I got one post out, might as well follow up with another. It was a bit rushed and the smut is short because it’s my bedtime but HEY! I’m DOING things!

Your keys clanked inside the glass bowl you threw them in as you sighed and walked into your apartment, holding dirtied white heels in hand and wearing disappointment across your face. The night’s events hung heavy on your shoulders which you tried to rub away while flopping down on your living room couch, but the tension was persistent. You had decided to go out, how very unlike you, but seeing as it was Halloween and it had been ages since you’d even spoken to your friends, you had figured that it might’ve been good to at least socialize a tiny bit. They took you to a party at some venue you’d never heard of, in a neighborhood you’d never been to, and the moment the crowd of costumed drunkards swallowed your friends was the moment you knew you wouldn’t be seeing them again.

You’d been left so alone, so exposed in your short white dress you’d thrown on just to look cute, the one you thought only your friends would see before they told you about the party. A sinful angel was the joke you were going for, but your joke had grabbed the attention of a few too many people and you were left to be incredibly uncomfortable. Friendlier celebrators were too touchy, brushing up against your exposed shoulders and offering you knowing smiles, as if you and any lingering stranger shared some sort of secret. One of your secrets was that you were distressed and didn’t want anyone you didn’t know to even look at you, your heels hurt, and the beer stench wafting through the air was giving you a headache. You really had to give yourself credit for how long you stuck around even though none of your friends were there to bear witness, but now you had to pay for persevering with sore feet and the feeling of being, well, lonely.

Lonely. You snorted. How you could feel isolated after receiving, what, attention?, was laughable. It was that sort of feeling that got you glancing at your window, waiting for movement. It wasn’t all the time you’d spot him, or maybe you’d gotten used to your outside disturbances, but ninety-nine out of a hundred times you did see something, you’d immediately pull your curtains together, however you thought that… perhaps… had you seen movement, you’d leave your curtains drawn apart.

Movement, however, didn’t come. That wasn’t uncommon. Your stalker, if that was what you could call him, was a very busy man, and on a night like tonight, it would be likely that he was on duty. It was either that, or he finally gave up on you, which would be a win for you for sure, but that didn’t stop you from walking to your balcony door, standing there for a moment, and sliding the glass open.

Cool air enveloped you as you walked barefoot onto your patio. You traced your fingers along the metal railing that kept you safe at ten stories high and glowered down at the busy street filled with teetering, costumed night crawlers. You glanced back inside to the empty loveseat that was practically calling your name. What was a lonely night if not one that involved relaxing indoors with a cool breeze blowing in while you had a nice drink in hand. Rubbing at your shoulders once more, you turned back inside. You told yourself close the door behind you, close the door behind you, but you gilded into your kitchen without touching the glass panel, leaving your unspoken invitation open.

Swiftly you poured yourself a glass, grinning stupidly at yourself for using something expensive. It was a ‘treat yo-self’ kinda night, wasn’t it? You adjusted the elastic straps that kept the white feathers strapped to your back and danced back into your living room, humming slightly as you took your seat.

You curled your toes around your soft throw and lightly dipped at your beverage as goosebumps appeared on your exposed legs. It took less than two minutes for a loud thud! to break your peace, although that wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

“You’ll catch a cold if you leave your windows open all night long.” The upbeat voice rang out from your patio and a second wave of goosebumps met your skin— that wasn’t from the cold. Boots sounded off the approach of your intruder, and you pulled your throw farther up your legs, already second guessing yourself. Hell, you knew it was bad having him here, you knew he was sick, and you knew that letting him keep you company wasn’t helping him in the slightest… but the other secret you’d kept to yourself at the party was that even though you were vastly uncomfortable, you wanted the attention, you wanted to be touched, you wanted to feel good, but you just didn’t want to be around people you didn’t know. Hawks knew you, at least, Hawks was familiar to you. As horrendous as it was, he was the easy route. He’d provide you with anything you would ask for if that meant that he could be near you, and sometimes you couldn’t help but take advantage of that, especially when you were feeling vulnerable.

Hawks’ head appeared out from the dark, a grin already playing at the corner of his mouth. Once he was inside, his crimson feathers ruffled, twitching off the residual cold of the night. His face was flushed, whether that was because he’d been flying in such brisk weather or because of the circumstances playing in his favor, you didn’t care.

“But that was intentional, wasn’t it?”

You sipped your beverage, not bothering him with a reply. You could tell by the look on his face that he already knew, and even if he tried to hide it, his excitement was strongly apparent. He pushed his visor off his head and placed it on your shelf, already making himself comfortable.

“Do you want me to make you a drink?” You offered, staring down into your glass. You shifted in your seat, noting the sudden warmth that flooded your body. God, you were a disaster.

“Do you want to make me a drink?” He asked as he shrugged off his coat and crept closer to your couch. You looked up to him, at his stupidly handsome face, noting how big his wings made him look to you even though he had a smaller, unintimidating frame. You shook your head. “Then I don’t want a drink.”

How he could still be there with you when you were showing the least bit of hospitality baffled you. Even still, letting him in was better treatment than how you’d handled him in the past. You’d screamed at him, threatened to out his behavior to the world, and continuously shot him down, but of course, he’d always look forward to these one percent days.

“No plans tonight?” You pulled your legs inward to make room on the couch. “You’re not dressed up.”

“Nah, I’ve just been out and about. Lookin’ for trouble,” he said as he folded his wings in and plopped down beside you, his knee brushing up against your foot. “I was at a little club earlier this evening. What was it— The Cove?”

You gulped, damning him and cursing yourself. That was the name of the party’s venue. “Hawks, you can’t keep doing this.”

“Hm? Doing what? Making sure you’re safe?” He lazily rolled his head at you, chocolate eyes scanning your form. You inhaled deeply and pushed your legs into his lap, your throw falling to the floor. “Making sure nobody touches-“ he grinned “-my little angel?”

You sighed as gloved hands founds your knees and his thumbs began tracing gentle circles into your skin. There was no use arguing with him, you’d done so countless times before and that was when you weren’t in need of some company.

“I love the costume, by the way,” he said, reaching up to touch your phony feathers. “I’m kinda honored by it.”

You scoffed at that, though it was fervently ignored.

“-but if you wanted to fly, you know I’m always here for you.”

His hand trailed down to your shoulder and up to your neck. You winced before leaning into him, into his touch, the tension in your back only growing more obtrusive. You closed your eyes and rubbed your shoulders.

“You okay?” His hand met the back of your head and tugged on your kicks like he knows you liked.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

“Stop.” You groaned and pushed his hand away.

“Do you want me to stop?” Hawks brought his hand to his mouth and bit his fingertip, pulling his glove off. “Or do you want me to give you a massage?”

You furrowed your brows. That sounded so nice and by the dreamy look in Hawks’ half-lidded eyes, you could tell, he was not going to take no for an answer. “Let me take care of you, hmm?”

You let up, reaching for the uncomfortable straps for your wings, but Hawks worked his hands faster, hooking his fingers around the elastic and pulling down your shoulders slowly, taking the time to run his thumb down your arm, relishing the prickling goosebumps you were unwillingly giving out at his contact. You were touch starved and he knew it.

The cheap wings were discarded to the floor and Hawks made a circular movement with his hands, ushering you to turn over for him. He pulled your legs out and sat on your ass, brushing his hands across your back.

“The lotion is-“

“-in the bathroom cabinet. I know.” Hawks wasted no time clambering to and from your restroom and soon he was back to the best seat in the house. Shamelessly, he unzipped the dress, taking his time to admire your back, bare and beautiful to him. Cool, lotioned up hands pressed into you and you couldn’t help but let out a low groan at the contact you hadn’t known how much you yearned for. He hummed in approval as he covered your back, making sure to smooth his palms over your pressure points. His hands cleared up to your shoulder, eliciting a moan from your as he palmed that area you were keeping your troubles.

“So tense, angel,” he mused, pushing down harder on you, “you should really let me do this more often.”

“Don’t push your luck,” you shot back, though your voice was muffled by a couch pillow. He snickered and rubbed you down, stopping right above your ass to massage circles into the sides of your tailbone.

Hawks touched you with languid pleasure, lingering on places you gave him more of a reaction. At the pace he was going, you were sure you could have fallen asleep while he touched you, and maybe that wouldn’t have been such a bad thing, but that would be impossible when your stalker had a one-track mind.

Hawks gripped hard onto your sides and pulled you up to press his bulge into your ass. Beside yourself, you rolled your hips to you rubbed against it, prompting Hawks to let out a groan.

“God, that’s hot,” he breathed, lifting your dress so your ass was on full display to him. He gave it a slap, compelling you to yelp out to him. He chuckled and squeezed your cheek, grinding against you. “You want more, baby?”

“Don’t call me baby-!” That rewarded you with another spank, causing your body to tremble against him.

“Aangeeel,” he drawled, stroking your pussy through the dampened material of your briefs. “You want me touch you?”

He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and pulled down, sighing at the sight of his ultimate pleasure. Fingertips slid up and down your glistening folds, making you twitch before he baited your entrance.

“Hawks,” you whined, dipping your hips to try to catch your desire, “don’t tease.”

“Tease?” He swiped right past your clit, snickering when you hissed. “I’d never.”

Both of his hands brushed down to you thighs while he rubbed his scruffy beard against your cheek, humming as if he was doing nothing, as if you weren’t wet and waiting for his tongue, his touch, his anything.

“Tell me you missed me, baby,” he purred against your slit. You moved to to catch his tongue, but he only snickered at your lame attempt, squeezing your thighs and clicking his tongue. “Ah, you give a little, you get a little amiright?”

He raked his nails across your skin, enjoying the sight of your fragile flesh reacting to him. “So go on. Why don’t you tell me how badly you’ve craved me since I’ve been away?”

“That suggests that you’ve been away,” you growled into the pillow in sheer defiance. You knew, you knew what game he was playing. He was going to taunt you until you were so desperate, so needy for him, until you were sopping wet without him even touching you. It’d happen plenty of times in the past, and you were already letting him do that now. You couldn’t let that happen. You didn’t care. Nothing was going to change the way he felt about you, nor you him.

You hoped he couldn’t hear the roll of your eyes as you finally muttered, “I missed you. I craved you.”

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly at your lack of enthusiasm and you felt the heat of his presence disappear. Fuck.

You turned to see him leaning against the opposite arm of the couch, arms crossed, waiting for your attention.

“Hawks?” It was stupid, it was childish, but you knew he had a point when he said ‘you give a little, you get a little.’ He did give you a back massage… and he didn’t even have to come in the first place! God, he was playing brat and you were letting him get inside your head. If you weren’t so needy…

You found yourself crawling over to him. It was exactly what he wanted; you giving him a pathetic and desperate display and though you hated yourself for it, you could drink about it later. You ran your hands up his chest, leaning against his neck as you say, “I meant it.”

You nuzzled yourself within the crook of his neck, peppering him with kisses. “I missed you. I really did, Hawks. And now, I want you so badly that it hurts. Please touch me.”

“You don’t mean it,” he said, though his hands caressed your back. “You’d rather me leave.”

“Hawks.” You brought your hand up to his face to turn him towards you. You gave him a light kiss, but he didn’t return it, still his hands ran across your body. It was a facade, he was playing you, and you were letting him. Your hand slid down his torso towards his trousers, not surprised to find his hardened erection poking out a tent in them, you began to stroke. “Keigo… please.”

A grin struck his face. Bastard. Finally, he leaned into your kiss, and you let his tongue explore your mouth while he undid his belt. You pushed your hands past his boxers and firmly grasped his cock. Hawks cooed. Like an actual coo, just how birds do. You could laugh if you didn’t actually get turned on by it.

You pressed into a more deeper kiss, gasping when he seized the back of your head. He nips at your bottom lip before pulling away and saying, “then show me, angel. Show me just how much you want me.”

He looked to your lips then down to his cock. You pouted. He smirked. “I can just leave.”

Yeah. You could. But you didn’t want that. You wanted him to fuck you. Beside yourself, you slid off the couch and took a position between his legs. You kissed his thighs, and using your tongue, you ran a hot strip up to his shaft. His wings bristled at the contact, encouraging you to lay your lips over the head of his cock. You lulled your tongue over him, enjoying the sight of his chest rising as you took your time pleasing him. His hands went to your head and he tried to push you down, but you sent him a death glare, opting to lap at his head before taking him in on your own accord.

“Mmmmm, you know exactly how to suck a cock.” He sighed as he gently massaged your scalp, while your tongue swirled around him. “Such a dirty girl, ready to please me when I give her a simple nod, isn’t that right?”

You hummed at the praise, not even minding the degradation. You dug your fingernails into his thighs and bobbed your head up and down his length, his subtle groans egging you on to take him in deeper.

“That’s right, you’re a good little slut for me.”

You moaned, the vibrations of your voice making your job all the more pleasurable for him. He weaved his fingers through your hair, hissing as you picked up the pace. He continued to curse at you, to dirty your name while you opened your throat up to him, taking him in completion.

“Fuck,” he growled, “waitwaitwait, ahah…” He pulled you off of him by a fistful of your hair and you scowled in disbelief back at him.

“What?”

“Come here.” He pulled you into his lap and forced his lips onto yours. He kissed you with fearless passion, lips molding to lips, teeth colliding with teeth. You tried to share you voice, to ask why he stopped you, but your words are lost to him. You felt his cockhead rub against your slit, and you know— he didn’t want his influence anywhere but inside your heat.

You dipped your hips and broke your kiss by moaning at his swollen member pressing into you.

“Oh fuck yeah, that’s my good girl. You know how great that feels? How tight you are for me? God, I missed this, babygirl.”

You rolled your hips, grinding into him, your pussy squeezing his cock with every word he spat in your direction. He felt incredible and you felt so hot while riding him, that you couldn’t help but laugh while wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Look at you enjoying yourself. I love seeing my angel happy. You know this could happen more often, if only you’d let me in.”

You had to remind yourself: Hawks was dangerous. His feelings for you were dangerous. Every time you let him into your home, into your body, you were allowing his delusions to grow to something more profound than they already were. You panted and stilled, raring yourself to pull off of him, but he grabbed you by your hips.

“Hawks,” you warned, scared he’d see both the reason and the fear in your eyes.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.” His tone took a darker timbre, his eyes growing wicked. The corners of his lips twitched up, his canine teeth appearing to be sharper, more sinister than usual. Slowly he leaned towards your ear, his hot breath sending a shudder down your spine as we ever so calmly whispered, “you’re mine, do you hear me?”

In one swift movement, Hawks picked you up and threw you to the opposite side of the couch, climbing on top of you before you could even think to move, caging you in by not only his arms, but his wings as well. His lips latched into your neck, his cock pressing right back into you as he sucked a red hot mark into your flesh. “Mine.”

You moaned and pulled at his feathers when he began pounding into you. He looked at you, drinking in your conflicted expression and returning it with one of sheer adoration, affirming you with sweet words as he completely ruined you.

“You’ll always be my girl,” he growled, his cock stretching you out while his thrusts grew more violent. Besides your knowing fear, beside the pain you felt as he slammed into you, you felt your stomach grow tense, you felt pleasure building up, and you couldn’t hide how great you felt because of it when you allowed yourself to whimper for him, displaying your dishonorable satisfaction by incomprehensible blurbles. “Say it, angel.”

“Yes, hah~hah~ baby.” You mustered out, not following his demand. He chuckled at your pitiful attempt and reached up to squeeze your mouth between his hand.

“Say that you’re mine, sweetheart. Say it and I’ll be good to you.”

“Mmmmpph Hawks~!”

Hawks grinned and shoved his tongue into your mouth, reaching down to cup your sweat-covered breast. He bit your bottom lip with bruising force—you might’ve even tasted blood— and pulled back. “Baby, my name tastes so good on your tongue, but that’s not wanna hear right now.”

“Hawks!” your cunt pulsated around him, massaging his ruthless cock. God, you were close, so close you were practically writhing underneath him, and all you had to do was say one little thing. You’d let him win once already tonight, a second time couldn’t be too harmful. “I’m yours, baby. Yours. I belong to you. Nobody can make me feel like this. It’s like we were… made for each other.”

“You got that fuckin’ right.” He reached down to rub furious circles around your swollen clit and that was your tipping point. Electricity seemed to shoot up from your toes and flare over your core, waves of pleasure dancing out from there. You cried out for Hawks not to stop and he obliged, making sure to swallow your mewls, placing sloppy open mouth kisses over yours.

He chased your orgasm with his own, but not before you begged him not to do it inside you. He groaned, but respecting your wishes, he pulled out at the last second, spilling his white hot seed onto your chest, hissing as he did so. He vocally panted as he took in his handy work, wiping the sweat off his forehead, grinning wickedly down at you.

His body fell on top of you, mushing the mess between your shared embrace. It was nasty. It was hot. It was trouble.

His fingers tip-toed across your arm before reaching behind your back to push room for him to climb behind you. He held you close, whispering in your ears sweet, delightful, dangerous things, praising you, loving you, owning you.

It was the bitter truth; you’d always be his. Since you finally admitted to it, he wasn’t ever going to let you go.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter@unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio@zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck @kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen@psionicsnow @wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai @eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello

#hawks x reader #tw yandere #tw dubcon #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #yandere!au #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere #Yandere!hawks #Yandere!hawks x reader #bnha #mha #reader insert #bnha reader insert #kiego takami #kiego takami x reader #yandere bnha

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taelme · 6 years ago

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genre: college!au, college frat boy!Johnny (fluff, mild angst if you squint)

pairing/s: Johnny / Reader , Lucas and the some of the 127 kids make appearances

word count: 12k+ (wow this was a ride)

tw: not much just mild language, mentions of smoking and they drink in this... also nothing SUPER scandy but they make out in this so yes

a/n: gif isn't mine!! also low-key inspired by that vid of 127 playing beer pong in America.... read this on ao3

"Life doesn't wait for you to enjoy yourself, Y/N....you know?"

You rolled your eyes, a huff of laughter escaping your lips as you looked up from your work to raise an eyebrow at the boy beside you, his puffy brown hair falling over his eyes as he bobbed his head to the imaginary music playing in his head.

"Are you high?" you dropped your voice to a whisper, pulling your earbud from your ear and looking at him curiously.

Scoffing at you, his eyebrows furrowed, as if he suddenly wasn't sure himself, "I don't...actually know....but don't be like that," he set his pen down, looking at you with a serious, wide-eyed expression. "As I was saying, why don't you give him a chance? What's so bad about it?"

You knew what Lucas was talking about, glancing at your very conversation topic that was currently seated a few tables away from you at the self-study tables in your school’s library, gaze intent on his laptop as he scribbled furiously on his notepad. Dragging your gaze away, you looked back down at the post-it glaring at you from its position on a hot cup of coffee sitting on your desk- supposedly from him, reading:

‘meet me before you leave?

-Johnny-’

You frowned after reading it for the umpteenth time, not knowing what he would want you to meet him for, a sick feeling in your stomach refusing to let you study in peace until you knew just what it was, and Lucas, of course.

"What do you mean, ‘give him a chance’?" You shot back at Lucas in a harsh whisper, your leg bouncing anxiously as you thought about the possibility of you and Johnny Seo together.

It wasn't as if you didn't know who he was. He was in your literature lecture, though he barely showed up. You only knew he was there because every time he was, he'd always find a seat behind you. Not to mention the way he would lean forward, so his lips were just barely next to your ear and you could smell his expensive perfume, just so he could ask to borrow a highlighter; his voice so enchanting you couldn't forget it even if you wanted to.

Lucas shrugged, "I mean, maybe he wants to ask you out, I mean...why else would he go through the trouble of buying you a coffee and shit if he didn't?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, "I don't think that's how it works, Lucas,” you told him, “plus, you know, you're not exactly doing a very good job in convincing me that Johnny, who we've known for like... ever but has never expressed any interest in anything other than in what stationery I’d brought to class, is actually into me."

Lucas clucked his tongue at you in annoyance, "you know, you don't always have to be so iffy about everyone that expresses interest in you," he gave you a pointed look, making you shake your head.

"I don't do it without reason," you murmured, twirling your pen between your fingers absently.

"You're making me want to day drink," Lucas huffed, "I'm leaving. Can you make sure you meet him so I can rejoice in how I’m right when he ends up asking you out."

Lucas stood up, the chair screeching against the hardwood floor loudly, slinging his bag over his shoulder before shooting you a smile, almost sending you face-planting into the table when he'd given you a firm pat on your shoulder.

"All the best," he held his fist up in a gesture to cheer you on, leaving promptly after to fulfil his promise of daydrinking, you assumed.

As the clock ticked by, every time you brought your hot cup of drink to your lips (as much as you didn't want to take it from him, you couldn't help it, the drink smelled too good to resist), you were reminded of the impending meeting you were going to have with Johnny, subtly glancing at his table every now and then, not knowing what gave you the courage to stand, beginning to walk over to him.

You clenched the strap of your bag tighter in your hands as you neared his table, being able to hear the muffled pumping bass of his music through his headphones. Holding the cup with the post-it in your hand, you took in a deep breath before holding it in front of his face.

Johnny didn’t seem startled, which intimidated you even more, simply setting his pen down and turning around in his chair to face you, giving you a small smile.

Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but you'd cut in quickly.

"What do you want?" you blurted, realizing you'd sounded a bit rude, but not moving to correct yourself in case it'd make your strong, totally unintimidated facade crumble.

Johnny removed his headphones, knocking the hood of his jacket off his head, revealing his dark blue cap, which he'd fidgeted with as he looked at his scribbles on his notepad.

"Did you like it?" he asked you, taking the cup from your hands, eyebrows raising at the lightness of the cup, since you'd finished the coffee.

“How’d you know my coffee order?” you murmured.

Johnny’s lips parted, giving you an unabashed smile, "Well, that’s for me to know and you to… ignore, but I’m glad you liked it.”

Placing the cup onto his table, Johnny looked back at you with an almost-analytical gaze, the intent in his eyes almost successfully making you avert yours.

"Anyway, what I wanted to talk to you about was,” there was a hint of anticipation behind his smile, “d'you mind doing me a favour?" he continued.

"... what kind of favour?" you asked, your head spinning as your imagination ran wild with all the possible things he could have asked you. It wasn’t as if he was gonna ask for you to go on a date with him as a favour like a cliché teenage rom-com, was he?

Johnny pointed at his notebook with his scribbles on it, giving you a sheepish smile, "I kind of need the notes for the week before last's lecture."

You thought back, frowning in confusion when you'd recalled that Johnny had been sitting behind you that week, remembering the disappearance of your blue ballpoint pen taking place that lesson.

"Weren't you there?"

"Yeah, I was. But... uh,” Johnny gave you a sheepish smile, his hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck, “may have had a really bad hangover that morning...and I did remember taking notes,” he said pointedly, “but uh... I don't know if you can, but I definitely can't make out what this means.”

Johnny turned, picking up a sheet of paper that was tucked in between his book to show you, illegible scribbles scattered around over the lines, the words trailing off into lines at the end of almost every sentence.

You pressed your lips together to suppress your urge to smile, scrunching your nose up in amusement.

"Sure," you eventually sighed, a small part of you thankful that he didn't ask you what Lucas thought he was going to ask you.

"Nice, thank you so much, you're a lifesaver," he thanked as you were busy fishing in your bag for the notes you'd consolidated just prior to meeting him.

You'd rather not give him the soft copy, seeing as there were way too many typos and distracted musings in there, (which may or may not have been about him as well).

"When do you need it back by?" he asked, earning a shrug from you.

Johnny huffed, seemingly amused by your demeanour.

"Okay, it's fine. I'll return them to you as soon as I’m done with them," he told you, startling you when he'd reached out a hand to touch your forearm gently before you could turn to leave, "see you around," he murmured.

You nodded quickly, walking away before you could embarrass yourself, Johnny not being able to help the smile from his face at your flustered state.

===

The next time you'd seen Lucas was when he'd arrived unannounced at the door of your apartment, a luxury you very much cherished thanks to your parents, who would much rather you not live in a dorm after hearing stories about peer influences in college life.

"So, are you married to Johnny yet?" he'd asked upon seeing you open the door for him, making you roll your eyes.

“Hello to you too, Lucas.”

"Hello,” he giggled, “also, go get dressed.”

At the look of confusion you’d given him, glancing down at your loungewear, Lucas had given you an expectant look, his eyebrows raised.

“You're coming with me to the mixer, remember?" Lucas continued. Oh, that.

"Right,” you let out a small sigh, “are you sure it's mandatory for us to go? And he didn't ask me out, by the way," you were hesitant about the mixer, having heard your fair share of rumours about the group of guys that were holding the party.

Entering your bedroom, you heard Lucas follow you into your room while you decided on what to wear.

"He didn't? Weird," Lucas frowned, flopping onto your bed with a thud and leaning against the headboard, crossing one of his stretched-out legs over the other.

"Don't wear that. You always wear that," Lucas snapped when you'd reached for your trusty outfit combination, making you put it back with a frown, skimming through your clothes before settling on something a little more ‘presentable’ according to him.

"Stop looking so nervous, you'll have fun! The guys are all really fun once you get to know them. Trust me!" you frowned at Lucas.

He'd been to many of these 'mixers', while you'd taken the liberty of forgoing the first three that had been held ever since you enrolled, but all Lucas had told you was that in going, you'd be promised to booze, music, and fun.

And considering your lack of entertainment these days, you figured it wouldn't be so bad if you just went for one.

Only when you'd reached did you realize that you were somewhere definitely not up your alley.

It looked like a house from the outside, (you obviously hadn't explored your campus enough to have stumbled upon the frats and sororities), but you were already growing increasingly excited (or nervous, you couldn't tell. Both made you feel like puking, frankly) from the tension of the music and the crowds of people.

You noticed Lucas was pretty popular among the people here, especially the guys, and you and Lucas had been led by one of them to the kitchen, the boy- who had striking features and a kind smile, handing the both of you drinks.

"Thanks, Yuta, where's the rest of the guys?" you heard Lucas ask him, and you'd frowned when he turned to you, asking you to stay there while he went God knows where with Yuta.

You downed your drink quicker than you'd expected, taking the liberty to grab a beer before you'd seen a group of girls walk into the kitchen, relieved sighs escaping their lips.

"Thank God we got out of there," you heard one of them say, your head tilting at them in confusion.

You must've looked a little too sober to have fit in, the soda in your cup and the lack of perspiration on you. But you didn’t think much of it, your attention captured when you heard one of them start to sigh, shrugging off their jacket.

"Those boys scare the shit out of me... remind me never to think I have a chance with Jaehyun again," she sighed.

Her friend had simply agreed, but not without letting out a tired sigh as well, "it’s not like he didn’t tell you beforehand that he wasn’t looking for anything serious... you can't come here thinking you can land a nice one, the nicest you're gonna find here is like... Johnny Seo, and he's not even interested!" you tilted your head at them, blurting out before you could stop yourself.

"You guys know Johnny too?" you blurted, seeing them look at you curiously, narrowing their eyes at you as if you were some sort of jungle predator.

"Do you?" one of them had asked, and you didn’t miss the way she’d scanned your attire, almost making you squirm uncomfortably.

You nodded slowly, not sure why they had looked at you in such shock.

"I guess? He's in my lit class," you shrugged, taking another sip of your beer.

"What about him?" you continued, curiosity getting the better of you, but you were annoyed to say the least when Lucas had chosen that time to return to the kitchen, smiling and nodding at the girls in greeting (they seemed to recognize him, straightening up and adjusting their clothes immediately).

"Come on, let's play some games!" he said, not giving you a chance to respond before he'd dragged you further into the house, where you saw what looked like a lounge area, ping pong table set up for beer pong.

Looking around the room, you felt like you were seeing something completely new yet utterly cliché to you, how the music here was different in the sense that it wasn't any of that electronic music they were playing outside, the trap and rap catching your attention.

"I brought a guest!" Lucas announced upon entering the room, and your heart had almost stopped at the sight of Johnny, who was seated at the sofa with a drink in hand, looking up from his phone when he'd heard Lucas say your name.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, not expecting to see you here, making you take a bigger sip of your drink (which had been replaced by Lucas’ beer), glancing around the room and waving at the guys who greeted you with smiles and nods.

"First time at a mixer?" a boy that Lucas had told you was named ‘Ten’ had asked you, earning a nod from you.

“Uh-huh,” you smiled, though it seemed Ten could sense your tension.

"How are you finding it?" he'd asked as the boys had started playing games to decide how to split the teams.

"I pick Y/N to be on my team!" Johnny had shouted over the noise just as you'd turned to Ten, who chose to sit out of the game, to reply, "Loud."

Ten had glanced at the players you and Johnny would be against, shrugging, "You're in safe hands," he told you, shooting you a knowing smile before leaving to sit with Lucas who was seated next to a boy named Baekhyun.

You'd moved to do the same but were stopped in your tracks when Johnny had approached you.

"Hey. Didn't expect to see you here," he told you, leading you to an empty space on one of the sofas and pulling you to sit down next to him, squeezing you between him and the side of the armrest with the sheer amount of people trying to fit onto the sofa.

"Why so?" you asked, observing the first two teams that had gone up to play, finally putting a face to the name you'd heard in the kitchen down there. Jaehyun, he seemed nice, cute....but too competitive, you dismissed the thought quickly.

"Didn't see you at the last few mixers," Johnny explained, making you scoff.

"Didn't expect you to notice," you shrugged with a laugh.

Johnny didn't seem to find the joke as funny as you did, simply tilting his head at you.

"How could I not?" he murmured, dropping the topic quickly as the game had started, the guys around you cheering noisily as a lean boy named Doyoung landed his first shot.

"I think Jaehyun's team's gonna win," he leaned over and told you, keeping his gaze fixed on the teams, a calm yet focused expression on his face (while a part of you wondered how he was taking this game so seriously).

Johnny leaned back in his seat comfortably, his hands in his lap, leaning over you to place his drink on the small table beside the sofa.

You, on the other hand, were busy trying to communicate telepathically with Lucas.

He was frantically gesturing saying you should be flirting with Johnny but you glared at him, shaking your head furiously, catching Johnny's attention from your sudden movement.

“Hmm?” he turned to you, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

You shook your head, trying to think of an excuse, “Oh, nothing, I was just trying to figure out why that guy next to Ten was so familiar.”

Johnny laughed, scrunching his nose, “That’s Taeyong. Wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve heard of him… he’s got… quite the rep.”

Laughing (even though you had no idea what rep Johnny was referring to), you let out a small sigh, glad to have successfully diverted Johnny’s attention.

The game progressed quickly, Johnny’s prediction being right about Jaehyun's team having the upper-hand, and they'd won in no time.

Gulping down on the bare droplets left in your cup for good measure as you watched Johnny step up to the table, waving you over, you set your cup down and made your way over quickly.

You were nervous to say the least, not trusting your sense of aim, especially with how Johnny was towering next to you, his presence adding to your nervousness.

"Any words for the other team before you begin?" Baekhyun had provoked, urging their competitive spirits to awaken, as Johnny had leaned forward.

"Good luck," he shrugged casually, and usually you would've been put off by this kind of cocky behaviour, figuring the only reason why you thought it was okay now was because it was coming from none other than Johnny Seo.

"Johnny," you whispered while the guys on the other team, Jungwoo and Taeyong, had been busy throwing challenges and trying to hype their audience up.

Johnny leant over, bending down so he could hear you better.

"Yeah?" He shrugged off his dark coloured flannel, leaving him in his plain black shirt and ripped blue jeans. You’d felt as though you were having déjà vu, the many times he’d leant over to you during lectures making your face warm at his proximity.

You cupped your hands around your mouth like how you would if you were telling a secret.

"I'm not very good at this game," you murmured.

Johnny giggled, shaking his head at you in dismissal.

"It's fine, just have fun, it's just a game after all," he told you reassuringly, but once it started, it was like you were seeing a different side of Johnny (and suddenly it didn’t seem like ‘just a game’).

He aimed confidently, one hand shoved into his pocket so he wouldn't fidget around (or just to look cool, as Ten had pointed out), and had landed two shots smoothly at the start.

It was going to be your turn when Jungwoo had landed the ping pong ball in one of your cups. You scrunched your nose up, nervous for some reason about your next shot as you picked the cup up and downed it in one go, making Johnny raise an eyebrow at you in amusement.

Hoping your aim was steady enough, you held your hand up, ready to throw when Johnny had leant down next to you, softly instructing you on where he thought you'd be able to get a clear shot.

In your flustered state, you'd missed, and if Johnny was disappointed, he didn't show it.

Johnny had offered to drink the drinks on behalf of you whenever your team lost, which, of course, flattered you but also disappointed you because you were hoping to get to drink a little. Though you couldn't say you weren't impressed by how he was handling his drinks.

You weren't aware that your sulky demeanour was showing on your face as you saw the ball land in your side's cup again, already anticipating Johnny's hand swooping in to help you drink the beer.

"Why d'you look so sad, babe?" Yuta laughed, making you shake your head dismissively, before Lucas had outed you quicker than you could blink.

"Y/N hasn't had a drink the whole game!" he laughed loudly, knowing you had come here with plans to indulge before you went back to studying.

Johnny held the cup in his hands, looking slightly buzzed already, an intrigued smile on his face.

"You want this?" he asked, holding the cup up and you clenched the ping pong ball in your hands, nodding.

Throwing it quickly, you heard cheers erupt as it landed in your opponent's cup.

Johnny in his excitement, turned to you with the cup still in his hands. You’d raised your hands slightly in a move to grab the cup, though your actions went unnoticed by Johnny.

"Open up," he sing-songed, using one hand to tilt your chin up, bringing the cup to your lips and letting you down its contents.

Gulping the liquid down with a wince, you saw his expression change, his parted lips of concentration curving to form a slight smile.

"Happy?" he'd asked, eyebrows raising, making you nod quickly, directing your attention back to the game quickly.

You were excited when you saw that Taeyong's ball had missed, leaving one last cup on their side that you had to get rid of before you would win.

"Go ahead," you prompted Johnny, seeing him get into his position calmly, throwing the ball and shrugging nonchalantly when he'd seen it go in, the rest of the guys erupting in shouts.

You were amused that he'd reacted in such a way, walking over to the table of drinks and pouring something stronger for himself.

"Want some?" he'd asked before shaking his head, "Actually, no, I think you shouldn't," he laughed, making you raise an eyebrow at him, wondering why it seemed as though he knew your alcohol tolerance too.

You realized you had to play a final round against Jaehyun and Yuta, and this time you were a little more thankful for the fact that Johnny would drink on behalf of you, considering your tolerance wasn't the best and you were already starting to feel a little buzzed, smiling more than you were used to.

You could tell he was a little more relaxed too, even though the game was getting intense, even going to the extent of patting your head proudly when you landed a shot, resting a hand on your shoulder whenever it wasn't your turn (and sometimes even during your turn)

And after the previous game, you were even more determined not to have a repeat of the whole 'open up' situation, simply letting Johnny drink on behalf of you. Though your team eventually lost (Lucas would scold you later on saying it was totally your fault), the guys had moved on to a different game pretty quickly, deciding on a game of ‘never have I ever’.

You would've considered yourself to be a player with an advantage, seeing as you were pretty sure they were starting strong and you supposed you hadn't done a lot of questionable things in your life.

The guys had already lost two fingers by the first two players, who'd asked pretty mild questions related to drinking and skipping class, "Jungwoo, your turn."

The boy pursed his lips, before a mischievous grin appeared on his face, "I've got one. Never have I ever woken up next to someone I don't know."

You stayed the same, laughing at the way Taeyong had nonchalantly put a finger down, jumping with a start when you'd heard shouts erupt and many fingers start pointing at Johnny.

"Don’t lie! You have to put one down!"

Johnny raised his hands in defence, eyes widening, "Why should I?" He scoffed.

"You can't say you've never fucked someone when you were less than sober before," Jaehyun drawled, a hint of sulkiness in his tone, the now rosy-cheeked boy upset that he was left with only two fingers and silently hoping that he could drag someone else down with him.

Johnny shook his head, smiling smugly, "I, for one, happen to make sure I know the people I...have relations with, as a matter of fact," your eyes widened at his forwardness, looking down at your four extended fingers, hoping your shyness wasn't obvious.

"Jae, you're up," Johnny pat the boy on the shoulder, seeing him purse his lips.

Johnny tried not to glance at you, a part of him enjoying the breath of fresh air that you were still doing pretty well in the game, not seeing you pick up your cup more than once during the game so far.

Taeyong had snickered, leaning over to murmur something in Jaehyun’s ear.

Jaehyun smirked, directing his gaze at Johnny intentionally, "Never have I ever… made out with someone more than 8 years older than me."

Johnny refrained from standing up.

"Fuck you, Taeyong," lowering his finger before he picked up his cup, drinking it all the while with narrowed eyes directed towards Taeyong, making you laugh along with the rest at him.

"Wow, Y/N's doing pretty well," Jaehyun pointed out, "too bad we don't know enough about you," he said, heavy implications behind his words, earning a glare from Johnny.

"And you won't," Johnny butt in quickly.

Yuta spoke up, "alright, my turn. Never have I ever smoked."

The boys were confident initially, until Lucas had spoken up, his eyebrows furrowed as he pouted.

"Do e-ciggs count?"

Johnny nodded, knowing smile on his face, not seeming to mind that he had to put down a finger as well. You tried to hide your surprise when you saw how many of them had only picked up their cups after that, having lost the game already after running out of fingers.

A few of them had gotten up and searched for other things to play, Johnny leaning back in his seat, resting his weight on his hands as he looked at you.

"Did you have fun?" he gave you a soft smile, making you shrug, forcing your gaze from your fingers to look at him, momentarily distracted by how brown his eyes looked in this lighting, not to mention the hazy look in his eyes.

"Were the uh...notes, useful?" you asked in your lack of a better response.

Johnny furrowed his eyebrows, lips parting in thought before he nodded.

"Oh, right, I was gonna return them to you the next time we had class but I can actually give them to you now, if you want."

You hesitated before nodding, figuring you'd might as well since he had them now, your mind not registering the fact that this meant Johnny lived here and that getting them now meant getting them from his room, your alcohol-induced state thinking all the while that he just had them in his backpack somewhere here.

You were too focused on following Johnny to realize that the other guys were giving each other looks, assuming Johnny had brought you upstairs for other reasons, already passing the point in the house that guests were allowed in.

Though you had to admit you were a little thankful for that because you were starting to feel the drinks you'd consumed start to hit you, feeling your head get a lot heavier than it was just moments ago.

Johnny shoved the door open, revealing rather welcoming warm tones in the decoration, down to the different pictures he'd pasted around the room, varying from scenery to pictures of the other guys you'd seen downstairs.

"Is this your room?" you asked, hearing him grunt in affirmation, walking over to his desk and fishing out your notes from under the stack of papers.

He waved them at you and you'd accepted them gratefully, still standing around awkwardly next to his bed as he'd taken a seat on his bed, looking at you expectantly.

Too tired to form words, you watched curiously as he'd extended his arm, reaching over to tug on the hem of your shirt, urging you to sit down, his head pounding as well.

"Were they useful?" you asked, letting yourself sit on his bed with a light thud, the both of your minds too hazy to realize you'd asked him this already when you were downstairs.

Johnny nodded, his eyebrows raising as if he'd remembered something, leaning over your shoulder to flip the pages of your notes, pointing at something you'd written.

"There was… I don't really get this part, though," he murmured.

You tried explaining to him, only realizing how much the both of you were yawning when you were halfway through explaining, thinking that maybe this wasn't such a good time for you to be explaining literary concepts to him.

You laughed, shaking your head when you realized you'd been repeating yourself the past three sentences and Johnny hadn't even noticed, too busy staring at your lips as you spoke and trying to remind himself that whatever he had in mind probably wasn't what you had in mind.

"Honestly, I think I should explain this another time, I’m honestly really tired," you yawned, seeing him give you a tired smile, nodding.

"Who's your ride home?" he asked.

"Lucas," you yawned.

Johnny stood up, albeit reluctantly, and led you downstairs so you could go find Lucas, your heart sinking when you saw him passed out on the sofa in the guys' lounge room.

Hearing Johnny huff next to you, you sighed deeply.

"Well, there goes my ride," you frowned, attempting to shake him awake but to no avail.

Johnny cast an amused look at Lucas' sleeping figure, "I can uh...let you crash for the night? pretty sure the rest of us are too drunk to drive you back anyway," Johnny told you, making you shoot him a hesitant look.

"Are you sure? I can just like walk home myself or something—"

Johnny shot you a look, shaking his head as he was already leading you back up to his room.

You were surprised, again, at how the noise from the party was so muffled from Johnny's room.

"It's really late now, that'd be stupid and dangerous," he brought you back into his room.

Well, then.

"You wanna wash up first?" he yawned, and you realized he really wasn't kidding about this. "I've some clothes you can change into.”

Your eyes widened, before wincing at the throbbing ache in your head, the urge to just curl up in comfortable sheets and go to sleep stronger than ever.

“There’s a spare toothbrush and stuff in the cupboard behind the mirror, you can like... just go ahead and use that," he told you, and you'd stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

If someone had asked you yesterday what you were planning on doing over the weekend, you definitely would not have expected yourself to be sleeping in Johnny Seo’s room for the night, much less after finding out all that you found out about him from the games you played prior to this.

Staring in the mirror in your tired daze after washing your face, you'd reached for the toothpaste, starting to brush your teeth slowly, flinching slightly when you heard a sharp knock on the door.

"Is it safe?" you heard him ask, huffing in amusement at the innocent nature of the question.

"Uh-huh, very," you murmured over the toothbrush, seeing the door open and he handed you a bunched up t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts.

"Thanks," you said, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing your mouth, closing the door behind you and proceeding to change into the clothes he'd given you, only there was a slight problem, the pants were much too big, sliding down your hips.

You'd tried to search if there was a string you could use to tighten the waistline of the pants, frowning when you saw none.

Peeking your head out of the bathroom, you spotted Johnny sitting at the edge of his bed, hands shoved into his pockets as he stared at nothing in particular.

"Johnny?" you called timidly, seeing his gaze lock with yours, tilting his head.

"Yeah?" he hummed.

"Slight problem, the pants are too big," you frowned, watching him raise his eyebrows, frowning, never having run into this problem before because he didn't usually give girls his clothes to wear.

"Oh, shit. Alright, wait hold on, I'll go see if I can get a smaller pair," he got up, walking out and going over to Ten's room, just as the said boy was trying to drag a very passed out Lucas into the room.

"Hey, glad I caught you here, do you happen to have a spare pair of pants I could borrow?" Ten practically dropped Lucas once they were past the door, panting with a pained look on his face.

"Pants, for what?"

"For Y/N," Johnny said, already having anticipated the smirk Ten gave him.

"Just let her go without them, no one else will see," Ten shrugged, as if just having solved Johnny's problem with his Ten-logic.

Johnny shot him a look.

"I'm not doing that," he said firmly.

"Why? Is this the period where you get to know someone before you....what did you say just now? 'have relations' with them?"

Johnny rolled his eyes, "Yes and no. Look, enough questions. Would you just give me the pants?"

Ten scrunched his nose in amusement, walking over to his cupboard and rummaging around before pulling out a pair of shorts, tossing them over to Johnny.

"Have fun. Oh, and sweet dreams… if you even get any sleep tonight." Ten waggled his eyebrows at Johnny, which Johnny had promptly ignored. Walking back into his room and seeing you leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom with a tired look on your face, he held the pants up with one hand.

Johnny couldn't help but laugh at how tired you looked as he handed you the shorts, "here, hope these fit better."

You accepted them gratefully, eventually coming out of the bathroom with your clothes and Johnny's too-big shorts in hand.

Johnny had told you to just set them aside as he'd gone into the bathroom to wash up, coming out and walking over to his cupboard, almost forgetting you were there as he removed his shirt, his back facing you.

Your eyes widened, turning away quickly so you wouldn't start staring.

After you heard the door to the cupboard shut, you asked, "Are you done?"

Hearing his laugh in response, followed by a "yes", you turned around, seeing him turn his lights off to the room, though you could still see.

"Hope you don't mind that we're sharing a bed, by the way. I can go sleep in Taeyong's room, if you're not okay with it."

Stunned, you watched him slip into the bed, leaving a space for you.

"Oh, no it's fine, I mean, do you mind? I don't wanna impose or anything," you murmured, resting a knee on the side of his bed tentatively, seeing him shake his head.

You were used to sharing a bed with Lucas whenever he stayed over, but this was way different. Because this was Johnny, and not Lucas who you’d seen practically all sides of already.

"I don't mind at all," he assured you, and you'd taken that as your queue to slip into bed as well, stressed about which way to face, eventually deciding on lying with your back to the bed.

"Thanks again... for letting me crash, and stuff," you murmured, hearing him hum.

"You were really cool playing beer pong just now," you blurted, starting to ramble in your fatigue.

You heard him let out a small huff, already being able to picture the tired smile on his face.

"I had fun, since you were on my team," he murmured, and if you thought his voice when asking to borrow your highlighters or pens in class had an effect on you, the way he spoke to you now was much much worse.

"Hope Lucas doesn't mind the fact that you're sleeping here," he yawned.

You frowned.

"Lucas? why would he mind? He's been be—" you stopped yourself, realizing you couldn't just tell Johnny that Lucas had been nagging at you to try your luck with him.

"Huh? You guys aren't like… seeing each other?" he asked, and you shook your head.

Johnny didn’t know why he bothered asking. He already knew you and Lucas were just friends, he figured he’d simply wanted to hear it from you, just in case.

"Nope, far from that," you told him.

A silence had fallen between the both of you after that, and you'd turned your head to face Johnny, whose eyes were closed.

"Go to sleep, Y/N.”

You weren't sure why, but you felt like a child being put to bed by their parents when they weren't ready for bed yet, not being able to help the "why," of protest you'd mumbled.

"Because I'm really tipsy and you're making it really hard for me not to kiss you," he murmured, turning around to face the opposite direction, leaving you shutting your eyes immediately, warmth spreading to your cheeks quickly.

===

You frowned when you'd woken up to a weight on your stomach, groggily wanting to turn but confused at the sight of Johnny's pillow being empty.

Rubbing your eyes again, you'd glanced at your stomach, realizing that Johnny's hand was draped over your stomach, his palm tucked in under you like he was hugging a bolster, and his face snuggled up next to your waist.

Your eyes widened, texting Lucas and asking where he was, seeing that he’d given you a missed call.

10:21pm -don’t call me lucas i swear to god just text me- lucas 10:21pm -WHY what happened??? why can’t i call u???-

You saw that he was already calling you, not listening to you, and because your phone decided it would be good not to give you the option to decline his call, you picked up in your panic to get your phone to stop ringing.

“Lucas,” you whispered harshly, “I told you not to call me!” your movements had caused Johnny to stir awake, wondering what you were so tense about.

“Why can’t I call you? and why are you whispering!”

“Where are you?” you asked, hoping he hadn’t left the house without you.

“I’m in Ten’s room, where are you?”

“I’m in Johnny’s ro—” you felt Johnny shift, moving his hand to rest on your stomach, resting his chin on top of his hand as he looked up at you with tired eyes, his shoulder practically holding you down with his weight, making you stop talking to Lucas halfway in your distracted state, only snapping out of it when you heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Johnny murmured tiredly, and you brought your hands up to cover your face when you saw Lucas barge into the room, looking between you and Johnny before pressing his lips together, struggling to contain his smile.

“Uh...Y/N, I’ll just... wait for you downstairs,” he murmured, a slight giggle escaping his lips as Johnny waved at him with a smile, watching as Lucas closed the door behind him after walking back out.

“Good morning,” Johnny murmured, pushing himself off of you, getting up from his bed groggily as he fished for a bag from underneath his table, placing your clothes inside neatly along with your notes.

“Go on, poor Lucas is waiting for you downstairs,” he fiddled with his earring, holding the bag out for you.

You accepted the bag, getting up and smoothing down your shirt where it had bunched up while you were asleep.

“I’ll uh...return this to you after I wash it,” you said, and he was nodding patronizingly, hands on your shoulders as he guided you downstairs, seeing Lucas waiting in the kitchen, talking to Doyoung.

“Morning,” Johnny greeted Doyoung in the kitchen, seeing Lucas stand up and cover his mouth (though it was obvious he was grinning), nodding goodbye at Doyoung as you were practically pushed out of the door, Johnny smiling and waving you goodbye as he leant against the doorframe.

Once you were closer to his car, Lucas nudged you harshly, almost sending you stumbling onto the lawn.

“What the hell was that?” Lucas asked you in hushed whispers (or as hushed as he could bring his voice down), making you wince, letting out a groan.

“You’re asking me? I wasn’t necessarily prepared for you to pass out on me,” you glared at him, getting into the passenger seat of his car.

He sighed, thankful to be able to talk normally now.

“Yeah, well...” he trailed off, not being able to find an excuse for you. “But the way you two looked so cozy just now!” he diverted the topic, making your eyes widen defensively.

“That was all him, okay?”

“You see? I told you he was interested in you!” Lucas started the engine, beginning to drive slowly, making his tone more serious.

“But you guys didn’t…” he let out a grunt, “did you?”

You almost screamed, shaking your head vigorously, “Oh my god no, we didn’t.”

Lucas glanced at you pensively before looking back at the road, “That’s weird. You guys didn’t even make out or anything?”

“Lucas!” You scolded

“What? I’m asking important questions!”

You huffed in disbelief, shaking your head eventually, “No, we didn’t.”

Lucas hummed again, as if he was surprised, “… weird.”

“Why do you keep saying it’s weird?” you frowned, seeing him shake his head.

Lucas brought a hand away from the wheel to run through his hair, smoothing down the mess. “I don’t know, just...unexpected I guess. Johnny’s not usually so nice…”

“Take this for example,” Lucas gestured to the clothes you were wearing, “never in my duration of being here have I ever seen Johnny lend his clothes to anyone other than the other guys… and that’s saying a lot too because you guys didn’t even do anything last night.”

You contemplated on telling Lucas what Johnny had said before you slept, afraid that if you told him now he’d throw a fit and swerve the car, so you decided to wait until you’d reached your house, getting out of the car and grasping the handle of the bag tightly.

“I mean....okay he did say something,”

Lucas snapped his head around to face you, a questioning look on his face, eyebrows furrowing and lips parting as a hint of a smile played at his lips.

“We were like already going to sleep and all and we talked a little and then he suddenly told me to go to sleep and I was kind of sad because I felt like he was just trying to get me to shut up,” Lucas snickered at that, “but then I asked him why and then he said... it was because he was like really tipsy and I was making it hard for him not to kiss me.”

You scrunched your eyes shut, hoping the lift would reach your floor quicker.

“He said that?!” Lucas gasped, making you nod, gauging his face for a reaction, seeing him let out a loud strangled sound of excitement.

“Okay, well clearly that clarifies the question of whether he’s attracted to you,” he told you, making you frown, walking out of the elevator and unlocking the door of your apartment quickly, Lucas shutting the door behind him.

“Why do you look so hesitant? Isn’t this a good thing?” Lucas asked, seeing you shrug at him.

You sighed, feeling your headache worsen.

“Think about it, Lucas. I don’t know whether he’s actually interested and what he... intends to get out of it, you know? I heard some girls talking about the guys in the kitchen yesterday, and they weren’t speaking very highly of Johnny and his friends…”

Lucas dismissed your worries quickly, “that depends on how Johnny treats you, and of course, whether you’re willing to take the risk.”

“You said it yourself, it’s a risk,” you told him pointedly.

Lucas shook his head insistently, “Look, Johnny’s really nice, and if anything, whatever he’s been doing lately is just his way of trying to get to know you more.”

Lucas shrugged, walking over to your cupboard and getting out the spare set of clothes he kept here for days where he would stay over.

Taking in a deep breath, you let it out with a sigh, shaking your head.

“Okay, fine. I’ll just see what he does from here.”

Lucas smiled triumphantly, “That’s right. Now, I’m gonna take a shower and give you some time to think about him.”

===

“Hey,” you’d seen Johnny in the library when you were doing work in the spare time before your literature lecture, thankful that you’d brought the bag of Johnny’s clothes to return him. His hair was hidden again by his cap, turned backwards so it wasn’t covering his face, doing wonders in making him look like a typical boy (except typical boys didn’t look as good as he did)

“Hi,” you greeted, seeing him gesture to the table, “is there anyone sitting here?”

He gave you a small smile, adjusting his grip on his cup of coffee.

Shaking your head, you urged him to sit down, “Nope, go ahead.”

He gave you a smile in thanks, sitting down and laying out his things.

“Actually, since we weren’t very successful the other night,” he let out a huff of laughter, “I was wondering if you’d mind explaining to me that part in your notes again?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, nodding as you saw him push his notes towards you on the table, leaning forward to rest his weight on his elbows as you pointed with your pencil to explain to him the links between the different aspects of the story and how they related to that part he didn’t understand.

As you did so, you tried not to let yourself get distracted by the way he would take his lower lip between his lips in concentration, or the way he would bring the cup of coffee to his lips and nod at you as you spoke, stopping you whenever he didn’t get it to ask you if what he got was correct.

“Does that make sense?” you asked him to clarify once you were done explaining, seeing him nod slowly, eventually looking up to smile at you, nodding more firmly.

“Yeah, thanks so much,” he told you, putting his notes aside and opening his laptop up, typing away at whatever paper he was doing.

You noticed how different it was for him to be sitting at the self-study tables versus when he sat somewhere exposed with you, seeing how many more people approached him to say hi or walked past with the intention of getting his attention, and you lost count of the number of pretty girls that had chimed in with a ‘hi johnny’, but not without shooting you a surprised look, as if to silently ask why you were sitting with him in somewhere that wasn’t a party setting.

“Sorry, is it distracting you?” Johnny noticed after a while when he’d connected how you’d tap your pen and take longer to return to your work each time a girl or guy had walked past him to say hi.

You looked back at him in surprise, realizing he’d caught you staring at the girl that had just walked past the both of you, saying she would see him at the next mixer.

“Huh?” you raised your eyebrows in question, hearing him let out a huff in amusement.

“Nah...you just seem a little… distracted, is all,” he said, a soft smile on his face as he twirled his pen between his fingers, making you scoff, panicked at the thought that your distraction had been obvious enough for him to notice.

“You should be the one that’s distracted, with someone coming by to greet you every five minutes,” you shot back quickly.

Johnny shrugged, bringing his cup of coffee up to his lips with a smile, taking a sip before he spoke.

“I don’t know, Y/N… you sitting in front of me is already plenty distracting.”

You shut your mouth quickly, a small scoff leaving you.

“You know you shouldn’t say things like that so casually,” you laughed nervously, seeing him put his pen down, as if prompting you to continue so you did, “might make me get the wrong idea.”

He hummed, as if pretending to consider your words, though he’d already made up his mind on what he wanted to say.

“I don’t know, Y/N, what exactly is the ‘wrong’ idea?” he asked with feigned innocence, scrunching his nose up slightly, earning an exasperated look from you.

“You know what I’m talking about, Johnny.”

“Then you won’t mind telling me, right? You know, so I know that we’re on the same page?” he shrugged, prodding you further.

“Okay, fine. I just meant that if you keep saying shit like that to me I might actually start to think you like me,” you huffed, highlighting another line on your book, looking up when you hadn’t heard a response from him.

Johnny Seo wasn’t someone that usually expressed his interest like this, he was used to casual flirting, not flirting to win someone over, especially when that person was you.

And now that he was finally in that position, finding a way to express his interest in a way that wouldn’t intimidate you was a lot harder than he’d expected it to be.

Johnny shrugged, “… maybe I do want you to think that.”

Your lips parted, not being able to find a proper response to what he said, choosing to stare at him in shock, the way he was looking at you with an expectant expression, picking up his phone and texting someone as you tried to recover from your shock.

“What’s... what’s in it for you?” you asked, seeing him look up from his phone screen, giving you a shrug as he set his phone back down on the table gently.

“Well, you... I guess,” he answered, making you furrow your eyebrows, still a little bit unconvinced that he was being sincere.

I mean, not that you had any reason to question him, but you just felt like it was too good to be true.

“Oh… uh, well.”

Johnny decided to put you out of your misery for now,

“Anyway, should we get going? Lecture’s gonna start soon.”

He'd gotten up from his seat, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he gathered the rest of his things in hand nonchalantly, and you did your best to shove everything into your bag before carrying it in front of you, as if hugging it would make you feel a little more sane after what he'd just told you.

“The guys are asking when they’re gonna be able to see you again,” he laughed, making you frown in confusion, slightly out of breath from climbing the stairs up to the auditorium.

“Well, when do you think would be a good time for that?” you asked, seeing him scrunch his nose up.

“If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t bring you to see them if I had a choice… can’t trust some of them not to fall for you,” he tilted his head, lifting his cap and adjusting his hair before putting it back on.

You couldn’t help the laugh that left you.

“What the hell, Johnny, then why’d you even tell me they wanted to see me again?” You huffed, laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

Johnny laughed with you, shrugging when he realized what he said could have made you very confused, choosing instead to shake his head, dismissing the previous statements.

“You know what? It’s alright. I’ll let you know when the next mixer is, but then again Lucas will probably tell you first."

You couldn't help but laugh, knowing that was very much true, distracted as you’d reached the auditorium. Since it was your first time entering with Johnny, you’d wondered if people always gawked at Johnny like this as he walked past them, pushing the door open for you to the lecture hall.

“After you," he bowed dramatically, making you shove his shoulders so he would straighten up, not wanting to attract any more attention despite being flattered by the gesture.

You tried to remain calm at Johnny had taken his seat beside you instead of behind you this time, claiming it was to make it ‘easier for him to borrow your stationery’ (even though the both of you sort of knew/hoped that it wasn't true).

You watched as your professor had walked into the room, setting up his things noisily on the table as he invited ( or demanded ) for everyone to take their seats, announcing that today's lesson was rather content heavy.

Sighing, you took out your book, flipping it open to the pages he was referring to and having your laptop ready to take notes, Johnny taking the liberty to lean over and ask you for a pen, the smell of his hoodie making you wish you could just lean forward and nuzzle your face into it.

But of course, you stayed calm, squeaking out a small 'go ahead' to him, seeing him smile and reach over you to grab at the pink highlighter in your pencil case.

"Y/N," you heard him murmur, and you'd raised your eyebrows, nodding at him to continue as you typed down what your professor was writing on the screen. You hoped he wouldn’t ask you what the professor had just said because you were definitely struggling to pay attention.

"Do you wanna get dinner after this?" he asked, making you snicker, trying to stifle your laughter before it could echo throughout the room.

"Johnny, the lecture barely even started," you turned to him with an amused look, seeing him dismiss your amusement.

"But yes, I don't mind getting dinner with you after this," you replied softly, seeing his eyes widen, pretending to stab your highlighter in his chest with a wince.

"Ouch, you 'don't mind’? Hey, if you don't wanna have dinner with me you can just tell me," he teased, making you roll your eyes.

"Shut up before I change my mind, Johnny."

You realized how distracting Johnny's presence beside you was, thankful that he hadn’t chosen to done this sooner or you would’ve definitely left lectures feeling as though you’d never even attended.

It was the way he would lean over to peek at what you were writing when he got lost, or the way he would play with his earrings absentmindedly, which would make his earrings fall off occasionally, and he would have to fumble around to get it, making you unconsciously put your hand against the table to make sure he wouldn't knock his head against it, an action that didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Y/N," he whispered, the harshness of it making the people in front of you turn around, and you gave them apologetic looks in return, turning back to face Johnny with an expectant look.

Johnny leant over closer to you, turning to whisper, "What did he write, I can't read his fugly handwriting—"

"Johnny is there something so important that you have to be interrupting Y/N in the middle of my class?" you winced when you heard your professor's voice echo through the classroom, drawing a load of unwanted attention to you.

Johnny smiled, shaking his head, "Nothing, professor, just talking about how much I love your handwriting."

The professor eyed him suspiciously, nodding slowly.

"Flattered, but I’d like you to pay attention to the words I'm writing instead of the way I'm writing them," he sighed loudly, turning back to recollect his thoughts and pick up where he'd left off.

You'd silently nudged your laptop towards him, gesturing with your finger at the words Johnny was having trouble deciphering.

"Oh, thanks," he giggled.

You were pretty surprised at how Johnny had been keeping up considering the fact that he didn't always have the best track record for lectures. You were almost about to commend him for it until you turned and realized his head was close to hitting the table, already falling asleep.

Suppressing your smile, you'd reached a hand over to pat his head, making him jolt awake, confusion laced in his features.

Pushing his cup of coffee towards him, you struggled with the urge to smooth down his messy hair, "drink something. It'll keep you awake," you whispered.

Seeing him nod gratefully at you, he'd finished the rest of his coffee, leaning back and straightening his posture in an attempt to make himself feel less groggy, even at one point resorting to thinking about you so there was no way he could fall asleep.

At one point you'd took pity on him, initiating games of ‘tic tac toe’ on your spare paper to keep him awake, not wanting the professor to call you both out again.

"Alright, since I’m already starting to lose most of you, I’ll wrap it up here today. You're all free to go."

Johnny let out a relieved sigh.

"Finally, I'm hungry. Quick, let's go eat," he stood up quickly, taking his hat from the table and adjusting his hair before hiding it under his hat as he waited for you, ignoring the people who were staring as they walked past the both of you on their way out, surprised that Johnny Seo actually made friends in his classes that weren't his frat brothers.

"Did you have any place in mind?" you asked, seeing him nod.

"But only if you're okay with it, of course. I was thinking we could go to the burger joint just outside campus," he told you, his words alone enough to make your stomach grumble.

"I'm more than okay with that," you huffed, seeing his smile grow bigger, wordlessly leading you out of the lecture hall.

"You seem to know this area pretty well," he commented, after the both of you had discussed the other food places in the area that you thought were good.

You nodded, "I mean, I kind of have to. I live here," you let out a small giggle, seeing his eyebrows raise in intrigue.

"Oh, you don't live in the dorms?"

You shook your head. Johnny nodded pensively, making you curious to his reaction.

"What’s with the reaction?" you laughed.

He shook his head, and you spotted the burger and pizza joint down the street you were currently walking on.

"Nah, just, that kind of explains why the guys haven't really seen you around school," you raised an eyebrow.

"Do they spend lots of time in the girls dorms?" you joked, a part of you not expecting him to look so serious as he replied you.

"… I guess you could say that," he shrugged.

Walking into the shop, the owner had recognized you from how often you and Lucas get food here, and she had seemed to recognize Johnny as well.

"Y/N, usual for you and Lucas?" she'd asked before turning to Johnny, "table for the rest of the guys as well today, Johnny?"

Your eyes widened, strangely feeling shy that you were here with Johnny instead of Lucas, but if Johnny was shy, he did a pretty good job of not showing it, simply shaking his head with a friendly smile on his face.

"Nope, just a table for the two of us will be fine," he told her, and now it was her turn to look surprised, only realizing now that the both of you had arrived together, doing a poor job of concealing her smile as she led the both of you to a booth at the side.

You nodded at her in thanks before she'd placed the both of your menus down.

"Do you know what you want already?" you nodded at Johnny's question.

"Great, then we'll just order now," the owner nodded, taking your orders before leaving you two (not without a cheeky 'have fun' leaving her lips as she left).

"So," Johnny began, glancing at how you were typing away at your phone, since Lucas was blowing up your phone asking if you were with Johnny.

6:59pm -yes im with johnny now leave me alone pls ill update u later-

You set your phone down, looking at him expectantly, but he was having his own crisis about wanting to be forward with you but suddenly not knowing how to flirt when he looked at you.

You were thankful for the water that they'd served, bringing it up to your lips and taking big sips to take your mind off how nervous you were in front of Johnny, not only because he looked so pretty up close but also because of the way he gave you his full attention.

"Do I make you nervous?" he suddenly spoke, almost making you choke on your water, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, making Johnny simply stare.

"Uh....just a little bit?" you confessed, seeing his eyes crinkle at its corners when he laughed at you, his laugh bubbling out in fits, making you smile, enjoying how cute he looked like this.

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" he asked, and in your flustered state you'd laughed nervously, shaking your head.

"It's fine, it's not that bad," you lied, "it's not your fault, I’m just hungry.”

The way he’d simply smiled at you had made your hands come up to cover his face from your view, urging your heart desperately to calm down.

Feeling him pull your hands down gently, you pursed your lips, making him cast you a very amused look.

"You weren't this shy at the party," he murmured teasingly, making you desperately glance at the owner for help, seeing her prepare to bring your food to you (which you were very thankful for).

"Yeah, well, you didn't necessarily come with a sign that warned me that you're even prettier when I’m fully sober," you laughed, seeing his eyes widen, your words catching him off guard, and you noticed the way his gaze shifted, looking elsewhere as he used one hand to cover his smile. Perhaps... did you just make Johnny Suh... shy?

The owner had come to give the both of you your food, amused at Johnny's flustered state, enjoying seeing this side of him that wasn't the always-calm, flirting-is-his-second-nature exterior he showed her whenever he and his frat brothers would visit the eatery.

"You should be careful with your words too," he finally spoke after gaining back his composure, "might make me think you're interested in me too."

He shoved a fry into his mouth, his cheeks puffing as he chewed and you tried to resist the urge to reach over and pinch his cheeks gently.

You shot him a look, maybe I kind of am, you wanted to say. But for now, you decided on simply nodding in understanding as you ate your food, not having enough guts now to say it to his face.

As you two ate, he'd asked you questions about why you chose your major, even asking you how you got to know Lucas when the both of you are so different, and you actually found yourself growing more comfortable with him as you talked, starting to feel less like he was someone you were intimidated by and more like he was someone that you could see yourself hanging out with in the future (or more, if luck was on your side).

At one point, you'd started to delve into the things that were practically itching at your mind since the mixer you'd gone for, curiosity pushing you to ask him questions about the things the guys had said about him.

"C'mon, don't tell me you've never sort of... you know, wanted to be with someone that you knew you could never actually have?" he defended, the both of your food having been finished long ago, simply nursing your drinks that the owner was kind enough to let you have refills for.

You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head at him, "thinking back on it now, i don't think it's ever really… crossed my mind," you told him, knowing that was a big fat lie because here you were looking at Johnny sipping his drink and wondering how good his plump lips would feel on yours.

Johnny rolled his eyes playfully.

"What a bore," he joked.

"Sorry, I guess I’m just not fratboy material," you shrugged with a giggle, making him sigh, bringing his otherwise empty cup to his lips to let an ice cube slide into his mouth.

“It’s a good thing, honestly,” he told you quickly.

"Does it bother you?" he asked, the question catching you off guard as you raised an eyebrow at him, a silent gesture to prompt him to elaborate.

"You know, the fact that I’m associated with that kind of... behaviour," he told you, the mood suddenly growing a little too serious too fast.

You shot him a look, not knowing how he expected you to be honest with him, "Look, it's no secret that you've… you know, built up that kind of reputation for yourself, but I can't lie and say that it doesn't bother me at all."

"What part about it bothers you?"

You were confused at his questions, not expecting him to care about what people thought of him, but you didn't know that this was just a result of him not wanting to disappoint you, wanting to be honest with you about his intentions.

"I don't know," you lied, shrugging and avoiding his gaze, feeling as though you were an open book under the intense stare he was giving you.

Johnny shot you a skeptical look, one that said there was practically no cheating yourself out of this question.

"Be honest, please,” his tone was gentle, pleading. How could you possibly refuse?

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, "I guess I just… don't know how genuine you're being with me, you know? You have this...ability, to win people over. I can't help it if I find myself wondering why you started approaching me, asking me out on dates like this—"

"So you think it's a date?" just like that, the seriousness of the situation had dissolved slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he smirked at you.

You scoffed.

"I say all of that and that's what you got out of it?"

You shook your head, the owner returning with your receipt and the both of you taking that as your queue to leave.

"Oh, I heard all of it, Y/N, believe me." He said, his tone firm, "and believe it or not, I’m telling you now that everything I’ve done to approach you and get to know you so far was genuine, because I’m very much interested in you, Y/N. Like… for real.” he told you.

"I wouldn't have even made Lucas specially bring you to the party if I didn't mean it."

Your eyes widened at that, making you think back to all the instances where Lucas seemed so confident that Johnny was into you but each time you'd approached him it just seemed like a normal exchange between friends.

"… here?"

You were pulled from your thoughts when you'd heard Johnny speak, looking back at him with a sheepish expression, "Sorry, can you repeat that?"

He gave you a look of mock annoyance, sighing dramatically.

"I said, can I walk you home? I won't impose if you're not comfortable. I just wanna make sure you get home safe, since you live outside campus and all..." he murmured, and if there was a meter for how much you were starting to fall for Johnny, it would've definitely jumped up a little now.

You nodded.

"I'm alright with it," you said simply, shaking your head at the way he tried ( and failed ) to contain his smile, nodding slowly.

"Y/N—"

"Can we play the silent game, please?"

Johnny shut his mouth quickly, nodding and actually proving successful in keeping quiet the rest of the way.

Only when you'd reached your apartment block did he suddenly blurt out, "Okay silent game over!"

"Johnny, you can't just declare—"

"I know but please, just listen, alright? I know given the whole... nature of my love life, if you can even call it a love life, whatever I’ve promised you doesn't seem so… legit. But I swear, it's just... I’m so used to casual flirting that I kind of seem like that boy who cried wolf or help or something... whatever!"

He looked at you with wide eyes, almost desperate to convince you of his intentions.

"I can get why you could feel overwhelmed now, so I’m not expecting any answer from you now...but whatever it is, I’ll respect whatever answer you have to give me, okay? Whether you want to continue getting to know each other… with romantic intentions, or… you know, not."

You looked at him with raised eyebrows in surprise, not knowing what else to do other than to nod, especially with the way he'd seemed as if he was about to lean in, and your breath hitched, but Johnny had pulled away suddenly, nodding at you, his fists clenching behind his back.

"Goodnight, Y/N." he said, promptly leaving before he could mentally kick himself even more.

===

2:51am -lucas help i keep thinking abt what johnny told me during dinner n now i cant sleep-

Lucas 11:02am -meet me at the cafe on your street in fifteen minutes, u can thank me later lol-

Seems like Lucas knew you better than to think you'd actually give up a whole night's sleep for Johnny, ( which you didn't, you'd ended up passing out at 3:30 in the morning ), and you hadn't bothered to read the message properly before putting on whatever you had in arm's reach and brisk walking to the cafe to meet Lucas.

Only Lucas hadn't told you he was going to bring help that came with light brown hair and went by the name of Yuta.

Walking into the cafe, you'd made as if to walk back out when you saw Lucas waving happily at you, smiling as though he totally didn't warn you that a cute boy was gonna see you while you were dressed in your pajama pants and t-shirt, slippers on and hair still messy from sleeping.

"Lucas," you frowned, sitting yourself down at the table and seeing Yuta look at you with a blank expression, nodding his head at you in greeting.

Lucas clapped his hands together with a stupid grin on his face, "Okay, great. So, as I was saying just now, Johnny asked her to dinner—"

Yuta snorted, shaking his head as he kept his gaze on the coffee he was stirring, ice clinking in the cup obnoxiously as your stared, wide eyed and eyebrows furrowed at him in offence that he was laughing at your dilemma.

"Johnny doesn't do dates," Yuta snickered, before realizing the implication of the statement, his mouth pulling into a frown, "forget what I said, continue.”

"Yeah, so then, he tells her that he's really into her and that he won't pressure her to give him a reply now and that he wants her to think about it and shit," Yuta nodded as Lucas had explained, turning to glance at you curiously, a part of him strangely not finding it weird that his friend Johnny would be into this pajama clad, mess of a girl sitting before him.

"Okay, now, as Johnny's close friend, what's your verdict?" Lucas said, tapping a (very loud) drumroll onto the table, thankful that there wasn't many people in the cafe at this time other than other working aged couple who were talking louder than his drumroll.

Yuta looked at you, sipping his drink with an intense gaze scrutinizing you.

"Do you like Johnny?"

You felt your cheeks heat up, "I mean, he's really nice and—"

"Yes or no?" Yuta said again, firmer this time which made you yelp out a "yes!"

Lucas eyed the both of you with a wide smile, covering his mouth in an effort to stifle his amusement, watching Yuta's expression slowly turn brighter, leaning his head back to laugh heartily.

"Great, cause he's totally whipped for you. And in my experience of knowing Johnny for like… two going on three years now, he's a sap, and from what Lucas has told me, he's definitely into you, and not just for a fuck in case that's what you're concerned about," Yuta shrugged, his tone matter-of-fact.

You almost choked at his bluntness, nodding slowly, seeing Yuta shake his head with a small giggle, a very contrasting demeanour from how he usually appeared to strangers.

"Don't be stressed, Johnny's the most genuine guy I’ve met, and when he says something like what he told you, I can assure you he really means it."

Lucas applauded, laughter bubbling from his lips as if he'd been holding it for very long, and you watched as Yuta stood up, giving you a reassuring smile that made you feel like all was good in the world.

"There's gonna be another party at our house tomorrow... yeah, just saying," he winked, leaving you to ponder on what he'd said. All the while, a very smug looking Lucas was looking at you expectantly.

"So what do you have to say now?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes, "Thank you, Lucas."

===

Plucking up whatever courage your emergency counselling session with Yuta had given you, you'd ended up standing outside the frat house, intimidated by the all-too-loud and curse-laced song that was blaring through the house (Lucas practically had to push you in the house in your anxiousness).

Your heart was practically thumping along with the bass as you navigated through the crowd in the living room to reach the kitchen. Making a trip to the kitchen first, you'd gotten a bit of liquid courage in your system, having to force yourself from the snacks table when a group of people initiating body shots had come to invade your personal space.

Thankfully enough (though you were slightly disturbed), you'd spotted Ten in this said crowd, and he'd cast you a smirk before gesturing upstairs, leaning over to you to say (or yell) into your ear.

"Johnny's in his room!" he shouted, adding an "alone!" as an afterthought.

"Why are you telling me that?!" you yelled back, seeing him shake his head, practically shoving you out of the kitchen.

"Why do you think?! Just gooo!"

And so you did, glancing around to make sure the people around you were mostly preoccupied that they wouldn't see you going upstairs, since that area was restricted for guests unless they were invited.

You knocked on the door, hearing a “Go away, Jaehyun, I’m not playing spin the bottle!" that was unmistakeably Johnny, making you laugh, shaking your head.

"Johnny, it's me,” you called, “Y/N. Ten said I could find you here," you winced, accidentally speaking louder than you'd intended to, having gotten used to speaking at a yelling volume while you were downstairs.

It was only a matter of seconds before you'd seen the door open, revealing a messy haired Johnny dressed in a black sleeveless top and shorts, and you'd tried not to let your eyes linger on his exposed thighs, looking back at his hair.

"You cut your hair," you pointed out, seeing his hand go up to his hair with a shy nod, before realizing you were still standing outside his room.

"I did,” he gave you a soft smile, “Hey, come in," he cleared his throat, a million questions in his head about your sudden appearance here.

As if you read his mind, you began.

"Yuta told me that you guys were having a party," you explained your presence here, seeing him remove his laptop from his bed and place it onto his bedside table.

"Didn't expect you to show up, to be honest," he huffed, though the laugh didn't seem to reach his eyes, he'd almost looked worried.

"That's actually kind of why I’m here," you started, feeling a little more confident speaking from where you were standing at his door, "I gave some thought to what you told me the other day."

Johnny’s eyes widened, his hand coming up in a gesture for you to wait.

"Look, before you say anything, I hope you're not being pressured into giving me a response, I really do want you to be sure about your decision," he looked at you from where he stood at his bedside table, searching your face for any sign of an emotion he could place.

"No, really, I’m not. I made up my mind," you told him firmly.

"I wanna give this a shot—"

"It's alright, Y/N, I totally underst- wait, what?"

You couldn't help the huff of laughter that escaped your lips, nodding at him, "Yes, Johnny. I wanna give this a shot."

You saw him bring a hand up to run through his hair, letting out a small sigh, "I'm... really glad to hear that."

He continued, taking steps towards you that you barely noticed with how distracted you were by the triumphant feeling of getting that off your chest

"And, you've really been nothing but nice to me from the start, you didn't try to use me for parties or like... clout or whatever, or even for... other stuff, and I really appreciate that, you know?”

“But that bad part about that is that I don't know what other way to thank you..." you felt your heart start to pick up speed at his proximity, the way all he had to do was just lean over and he would be at a very, very dangerous proximity to you.

"But at the same time, how can I resist?" Johnny looked into your eyes, his stare almost wolfish, looking as though he were 3 steps ahead of you and you didn't even know.

"May I?"

Johnny asked, his voice just slightly louder than a murmur but softer than you'd ever heard him, and he'd brought a hand up slowly, as if testing the waters, taking your unwavering gaze at him to be a good sign as he let his hand cup the side of your jaw, warmth spreading through your neck as his thumb softly caressed your lower lip, letting it spring back gently when he removed his thumb.

How could you refuse, when everything in your body was aching for him to close the gap between your lips and his?

His other hand smoothed down from your shoulder to find its place on your hip, and you watched as he'd began to lean in, letting your eyes flutter closed when you heard him murmur, "relax, baby."

"I haven't done this in a while," you dared to whisper, a small huff of amusement leaving your lips, "I'm going to disappoint you."

He shook his head, a huff of laughter escaping him.

"Indulge me, I’ve been thinking about this for ages now."

He connected his lips with yours, and you'd kissed him back, gasping at the feeling of his hands going to the back of your thighs, urging you to jump as he wrapped your legs around his torso, not breaking the kiss as he led you to his bed so you wouldn't have to kiss with a doorknob poking into your back.

Moving carefully, Johnny sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard with your knees on either side of his hips.

He swiped at your lower lip with his tongue, making you laugh at the sensation, letting him deepen the kiss, hearing knocking at his door, pulling away from him quickly with a start when you heard Yuta's voice.

"Johnny, did you talk to Y/N yet? Lucas said he brought her here but she disappeared."

You gave Johnny a panicked look, seeing him raise an eyebrow at you, moving to press kisses to your jaw, trailing them down your neck, speaking between kisses.

"Go ahead, answer him,” his voice was so intoxicating, you’d almost forgotten what he’d said.

You could practically feel his smile as he rubbed his hands soothingly over your thighs, amused at your shock.

You rest your arm on his shoulder, fingers combing through his hair as you mustered up your voice to reply Yuta, Johnny giving the skin at your neck a light nip at your delay, making you tug at his hair unconsciously, almost eliciting a groan from him.

"Yep, I’m here, Yuta! You can tell Lucas—" you swatted at the back of Johnny's head when he'd blown cold air on the spot on your neck he’d bit just before, making you shiver from the ticklish sensation, "you can tell him everything's fine!"

You heard a pause before Yuta replied with a hum. (though you swore you heard Lucas' tell-tale giggle)

Johnny smiled at you, "where were we?" he used his thumb and forefinger to guide your mouth back to his, feeling him tense up when you let you fingers find purchase in his hair, making you laugh, amused at his reaction.

"I love it when you do that," he sighed, and you'd pulled away, shoving yourself off of him as you flopped onto his bed beside him, Johnny looking down at you with a look full of admiration and a giddy kind of happiness.

You scrunched your nose up at him.

"Hope that didn't disappoint," you laughed, your heart swelling when you heard his own little giggle.

Johnny reached his hand over to run it through your hair, pushing it out of your face, before letting his thumb smooth over the skin of your cheek, shaking his head at you.

"Definitely not. I’m so satisfied I might just ask you to do it again."

===

lucas 2:23am -so....if ure doing all that funny business w johnny....- 2:23am -does this mean we get free passes for parties now?-

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danganronpa-21 · 5 years ago

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Naegiri Week Day 4 - Rain

I can barely believe that it’s Day 4 already. Also that I’m on time for this one, because I didn’t think I was going to be. It’s a welcome surprise! This particular piece is much more of an angst/whump piece, but there’s still a bit of sweetness attached to it. 2020 is just the year of angsty Makoto, I guess! Anyway, I hope you like it! Feel free to let me know what you think.

Oh, and please keep in mind that this does contain some rather graphic depictions of death and violence. Be sure to play on the safe side if that’s not your thing. Thank you so much for your time and attention!

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Makoto was about to shower for the first time in four years.

Of course, that wasn’t to say that the man never bathed – quite the opposite, really. He tended to bathe rather frequently; it was just way he did it that changed the conversation. After all, taking baths was still apart of good hygiene. It was just widely regarded as less convenient to bathe that way. What was a man to do? There was something about standing under the showerhead, watching the water bead onto the tile and slowly roll away… Something about it just made his skin crawl.

Well, perhaps it was wrong to say “something” when he was well aware of the cause. Four years since the School Life of Mutual Killing, and the image of her never left his mind. Sweet, beautiful Sayaka with a fractured wrist and a knife plunged into her stomach, blood pooling all over her belly and lap. Her eyes shut in a way that could not possibly have looked peaceful even if he wanted it to. Her last message to him written across the wall in disjoined letters – a final plea for him to try and survive. She’d signed her death warrant, yet she refused to sign off on his as well. Kyoko told him that he should take some comfort in that, but it was a comfort he could only half-hold. In truth, try as she might, there was nothing that Kyoko could tell him to take away that pain.

That was why he was where he was, actually. Kyoko’s inability to remedy his pain. He’d been trying for ages now to counteract the thoughts and feelings associated with the shower, but none of his attempts bore fruit. Even Kyoko’s strategies, helpful as they usually were, did little to assist him. At this point, she could only hope to support him through his struggle. So, when he came to the decision to finally step foot in the shower once more, she did as she always did – supported him as best she could.

Some would find it weird that a couple who had only recently started having sex would so readily strip down to nothingness and jump into the shower together, but neither he nor his wife found this to be a situation way out of their comfort zone. It wasn’t like the situation would be overtly sexual in any way, shape, or form. They would just be two people like any other, showering in each other’s presence. That was it.

Still, Makoto wondered if perhaps it was pent-up awkwardness that made his hands tremble as he moved to lift his shirt off over his head, or if shower nerves were getting the best of him. He would always feel flustered at the sight of his wife completely undressed, but this felt like so much more. Within seconds he his throat started to dry up, and his heart picked up its pace. God, he wondered if this was a good idea. It had seemed like one at the time, but now he knew he had second thoughts.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

It was like Kyoko sensed his anxiety without him having to lend his voice to it. It was almost funny that even after all that time together, he still found himself surprised by her ability to read him. She did still insist on referring to him as “Mr. Open Book”; she’d just also begun to refer to herself as “Mrs. Open Book”. Not that that was true, but he appreciated her joke about their marriage nonetheless. Her playfulness brought him respite.

“Honestly… no,” he answered, pushing a hand through his hair, “I don’t know what’s going to happen if I do, but I don’t want to keep avoiding it like this.”

Kyoko frowned. “What’s the problem with not showering? There’s nothing wrong with you only taking baths. Regardless, you still emerge cleaner than you were when you entered.”

His shoulders rose and fell lazily; his eyes drifting towards the shower. The thing looked so innocent just sitting there, the glass pane cracked open ever so slightly to reveal the silver mechanisms inside. They looked so pristine and nice in there, glittering with a shine that proved how recently Kyoko cleaned the faucets and spout. The whole structure appeared so unintimidating; he felt foolish for even being frightened of it.

“It’s a personal thing, I guess.”

His wife’s arms crossed her chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Makoto gripped his arm tightly, his nails digging into the skin. He knew better than to grab at himself like that, but confessing to his pain was next to unbearable. Even talking about it threatened to send him spiralling. “Just that I think this is something I need to lay to rest. Not just for me, but for Maizono-san, too. I want her to be able to sleep peacefully…”

Her expression softened like well-loved leather. “Always thinking of others, Makoto. You really are the kindest person I’ve ever met,” She murmured, reaching over to cup his cheek with her hand, “Still. Are you sure that this is how you can help her? Maizono-san wouldn’t want you to do anything that might cause you to hurt yourself.”

“If there’s some other way to help her, I don’t know of it.” Makoto mumbled awkwardly, leaning his face into Kyoko’s hand. It was sort of strange feeling her hand on his face; without her gloves her hands seemed so much rougher than he was used to. Not that he minded any. In a way, he almost liked that Kyoko’s hands were like that. It made her touch easy to distinguish from everyone else’s, and made him a lot more comfortable knowing that she was right there at his side. The only situation in which he’d ever want her hands to change was if that was what she wanted. “I think this is the only way I can really go about it.”

Kyoko nodded thoughtfully, a half-smile playing at her face. “If you’re certain. Still, I ask that you let me know if we need to put an end to it. You know I’ll be swift in putting an end to the exercise.”

“Of course.”

With that, the two separated once more, both of them moving to continue to do away with their clothing. It didn’t take them long to strip down to nothingness, feeling the cool autumn air hitting their bare skin. For both of their sakes, Makoto tried to make not too much unnecessary eye contact. Kyoko seemed to care much less about it. When they were done, Kyoko took his hand, and guided him towards the shower. Sweat coated Makoto’s palms immediately as they made the venture forth to the silver beast; his body suddenly feeling much too cold for his liking. Part of him wanted to run over and snag his clothes, put them all back on, and tell her that he didn’t want to do this after all. It would certainly be a lot easier than confronting his fears. Still, could he really convince himself to give up on his task when he was this close? He should award himself more faith than that, after all. Like trying a new food, there was no sense in giving up before the flavour hit. As frightened as he was, he wanted to at least try to bear it.

Unfortunately, his desire to soldier through didn’t stop his body from reacting to the stressors. He practically jumped out of his skin the moment Kyoko turned the faucet; he’d always hated the low rumbling the shower made when it roared to life. It had been a while since he was close enough to hear it, but now that he was… he was suddenly reminded of how awful it was.

“Are you okay, Makoto?” Kyoko asked, turning her head back to look at him. Her face looked so innocent as she blinked at him, her brows knitting themselves together ever so slightly. Her obvious worry made his stomach twist. How could he be so determined to overcome his fear if it concerned the woman he loved so greatly?

Attempting to swallow around the lump in his throat, Makoto nodded. “Just got a little surprised by the sound, that’s all… We’ve got to wait for it to warm up, right?”

She bit her lip, taking one long look at his expression. Without even having to use her words or much expression, he could tell she didn’t believe him. “Yes. It should warm up fairly quickly, though. We’ll be able to step in soon.”

“Good, good…”

It was not good. Not that he was going to tell Kyoko that.

Anxiety spun his head like a vinyl record; he fought to keep his belly from churning. God, he just wanted to get this over with. Be a hero, conquer his fears, and then curl up in bed with his wife and snuggle her until his limbs stopped shaking. Every passing second was agonizing. He honestly felt as if he could cry when she told him that the water was finally warm enough.

“Do you want me to go in first?”

“It would probably make me feel a bit better if you did… Just like… take me by the hand and guide me in, please.”

She smiled at him as genuinely as she could manage, her worry still seeping through ever so slightly. “I can do that.”

He breathed a silent prayer as Kyoko’s hand found his own, slowly guiding him towards the shower. He couldn’t stop himself from squeezing his eyes shut, letting himself be lured into the trap by his lover. The moment the water hit him, he let out a gasp. Desperate to stay grounded, he found himself squeezing Kyoko’s hand for dear life. She took such care to ensure that the shower rain wouldn’t be too hot, yet it scalded his skin as he tried to adjust to the feeling. He almost cried out the moment it collided with him. The sensation could be compared to freshly boiled water being poured down his spine.

“Just breathe,” she spoke so softly he almost missed it, her hand rubbing against his back to try and comfort him, “It’ll be okay.”

It’ll be okay, he repeated to himself. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.

Adrenaline hit him in a crashing wave. It was as if a bubble had burst in his brain, soaking his entire being in paralyzing fear. Every part of his body suddenly seemed full of… something. What it was, he didn’t know. He only knew that he could feel it somewhere within himself, accompanied by a shooting pain somewhere in his chest. If he hadn’t known what the symptoms were like, he would have assumed that he was going to faint. This definitely wasn’t fainting, though. It was… something else entirely.

All he could see was red. Red streaked on cold grey tile; the liquid having lost its warmth after spillage. A knife plunged into the depths of Sayaka’s belly, diving past her uniform and the protective layer of skin and muscle. How far did it pierce her stomach, one couldn’t help but wonder? How long was she in pain? Did she lay there bleeding out, praying that someone would come and rescue her? There were tear tracks on her face when they found her. She’d cried in pain. She’d sat there writhing in it, bleeding out – five minutes of bleeding out, Kyoko told him – with nobody to soothe her.

He left her behind to die like that. He’d left her to die like that because he was too stupid to think about what she intended to do. If he’d stopped her, she’d still be alive. If he’d been smarter, or braver, or nicer, everything would have worked out for her. She’d have stood on Kyoko’s side at their wedding, hair curled and adorned in purple flowers. She would be positioned next to Aoi, looking absolutely beautiful in the soft material of her lavender dress. The gown would hug her curves in a way that would surely have made Leon talk, but she still wouldn’t be the most radiant woman in the room. He could picture the smile she’d give from where she was standing, silently wishing him a lifetime of happiness with the love of his life. She’d have been there. She’d have protected him from the harm of the shower’s rain, slicing through his skin like a blistering razor.

“Makoto!”

The image persisted behind his eyes, but the sound proved he could make out his own world. Sayaka’s death played on continuous loop like a movie; none of what was happening was real anymore. Water droplets having completed their race were not the same as Sayaka’s blood; there was no reason to see it as such. The grey tile had not been scrubbed white; it was the tile of his own home. The voice calling out to him was not his own frozen in a hellish scream; it was Kyoko’s. Shame seeped into his bones. Go away, he pleaded, I’m begging you to go away.

Without any choice, his legs gave out, sending him falling to the floor. His knees would surely be bruised the next day.

Kyoko didn’t kneel down to his level, not at first. Her hand instead went darting for the faucet, twisting it off as soon as she could. Only a twinge of relief washed over him as the pitiful rain dribbled to a stop, leaving him and Kyoko to bask in the new found silence. It made Makoto acutely aware of how sharp his breaths had become, with his body struggling to gather some sort of relief. He squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, how he prayed the darkness would swallow him whole to make this pain stop.

He barely noticed when Kyoko knelt down on the floor, placing a gentle hand on his back. It wasn’t until her rough hand made contact against his skin… It wasn’t until that moment that he found himself anywhere close to okay. Oh god, he hoped she knew how much that meant. Even with his mind persisting at that image of Sayaka, the contact healed him like an EpiPen.

“You’re experiencing a flashback, Makoto,” she murmured softly, tracing loops on his back. How could she sound so steady at a time like this? Jealousy at her coolness pricked him. What he wouldn’t give to experience it anywhere but between images of Sayaka, blood leaking from the side of her mouth.

“Sayaka’s dead,” was all he could utter. No “help me”, no “hold me”, no “I need you to do this for me” … Just an admission that his dear friend was very much dead.

“She died, but she didn’t die here. It was years ago, Makoto.” The circles she drew between his shoulder blades slowed down. She hoped for him to focus on the sense of touch. “You remember that, don’t you? And you remember that you didn’t have any control over what happened to her. She didn’t blame you for what happened.”

He didn’t answer. Just kept staring aimlessly at the tile, wishing it would be the way he remembered it. The way it looked when Kyoko had just finished taking a shower. God, he’d have done anything to be able to breathe in the scent of her cherry blossom shampoo, rather than the vague stench of copper.

“Do you feel my hand on your back, Makoto?”

He licked his lips, blinking slowly. “I do.”

“It’s rough, isn’t it?”

“Very.” He muttered.

“Just try to focus on that roughness as my finger moves. You can feel me there, can’t you?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Good,” she outstretched her other hand so he could see it, her golden wedding band flickering at him, “Now look at the other. It’s kind of funny-looking, isn’t it?”

“Like hamburger meat.” He murmured, not thinking about how that might insult her. His mind was too far into its loop to consider it. His body trembled as he tried to ground himself there on the tile; nausea prodding at him to have its way.

To his surprise, Kyoko laughed. Not a full, hearty laugh like he could usually stir from her – but a laugh nonetheless. “I suppose it does sort of look like that. What I want you to focus on, though, is the colours. How many different colours can you pick out when you look at my hands? Remember, undertones count too.”

His eyes wandered across her hand, observing it carefully. Naturally, red was the first colour that came to his mind. Red like blood, red like fire, red like a poisonous animal. The red on Kyoko’s hand was an inky layer sandwiched between lighter and darker hues, skirting about midway along her palm, it danced so close to her knuckles. From there, the colours faded into a deeper crimson, then to a brown, until finally they reached a blackened shade at the tips of her fingers. It was only below the streak of red that he could see pink, like apple snail eggs. So close to being warm and rosy, but a sign of damage nevertheless.

“There’s… red, and brown, and pink… black, crimson…”

“Crimson? It sounds like you’re getting a little excited with your colour comparisons there. Good for you. Just keep listing the ones that come to mind.”

“Um… I guess there’s a bit of umber in there… maybe some charcoal?”

She nodded. “Good. Now, do you know what day it is?”

Makoto blinked once. Twice. Three times. His breaths still felt much too laborious, but in a way, he felt like things were almost getting clearer. Like he’d been freed from suffocation in ash. “It’s… the tenth of September, right? Autumn?”

The circles continued as she cracked a small smile. “Good, good. Now can you rub your hands together for me? I want to get you a towel to dry off with. It will keep you warm while I do.”

Once again, he didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her, just nodded and started rubbing his hands together for friction. He couldn’t bring his eyes to follow her as she pushed herself to her feet and strode out of the shower, tugging his fluffy white towel off the rack. Focus rested on the heat generating between his hands, he almost didn’t notice when she returned and draped it over his shoulders. His movement screeched to a halt the moment it connected with his body; god was it a soft towel. Taking hold of both corners, he pulled it over himself as much as he could manage. They definitely needed to keep buying whatever fabric softener they were currently using.

Kyoko slowly lowered herself to sit at his side once more, returning her hand to the same position it had been on his back. It was true to say that he could no longer enjoy her rough skin against his own, but the pressure of her presence still made him a bit renewed.

“Are you okay, Makoto?” Though he couldn’t find the energy to meet her face, the concern coated her voice. It wasn’t difficult to picture her lowered brows; her mouth curved into a hesitant grin in hopes of offering solace.

His shoulders quirked, and he leaned himself into her. By now she must have known how badly he needed her; he figured she wouldn’t mind if he cuddled up. Touch always rejuvenated him when he grew melancholic or distressed. Hers, especially, brought him a comfort unlike any other. “Honestly… no. I’m not.”

Kyoko scooted closer to him, and pushed his head so that it would rest on his shoulder. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“No,” the answer came much faster than expected, “Not right now, anyway.”

“That’s fine. I don’t expect you to be okay. We can talk whenever you would like,” she paused for but a moment, carefully scrutinizing his face, “Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t think so.”

He could tell she was frowning now. “That’s a shame.”

Makoto quirked his shoulders once more. “It’s okay. You’re already doing everything you can, and I appreciate that. All I really need right now is your company.”

Cautiously turning her head towards his, she pressed a kiss against his head. Her hand rested on the top of it, stroking his hair ever so gently. A miniscule happiness swelled within him at the sensation. He was a lucky man, who had a woman who cared about him so much. “I think I can manage that.”

Though it was hard, he did everything he could to push a smile. It must have been awfully weak, but he hoped she could appreciate it nonetheless. “Thank you, Kyoko… I love you.”

“I love you, too. And I’m here for you anytime.”

“Shower or no shower?” He joked, chuckling half-heartedly.

“Shower or no shower. I’ll love you, always.”

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