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thehoneybeestings · 4 months ago

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𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐦

𝐯𝐢 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Word Count: 2.3k

Synopsis: After years of competing for the title of Star Senior at Piltover Springs Dance School, the hatred that Violet Lanes and Y/n Y/l/n have garnered for each other is rendered a waste when in a turn of events, they are both awarded the distinction. When this forces them to confront what feelings they have for each other outside of unbridled loathing, they find that the line between hatred and lust is much finer than they thought...

Continuation of this headcanon (can be read alone, though; you'll just miss out on some context)

Content/Warnings: nsfw, smut!, top! vi, bottom! reader, low-key softdom! vi, lowkey subby! reader, reader has female anatomy, reader referred to with feminine terms/pet names (princess, good girl, etc.), oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, mirror sexxxx, lots of consent checks bc vi you are so sweetie, can't not think of Wicked when i hear the phrase "unadulterated loathing" so i am sorry if you are in the same boat

A/N: okay guys... here it is teehee. thank you SO much for all of the love on my dancer! vi x dancer! r headcanon; I honestly did not expect it! i really really enjoyed writing for this little plotline and I'm glad you guys enjoyed it, too; and i hope this scene brings it justice... enjoy! mwah ha ha

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

You’re not quite sure how seven years of pure, unadulterated loathing between you and Violet Lanes had led to this; Vi, with a knee slotted in between your legs, hands splayed across your torso as she kissed you, and you, pinned between her body and the ballet bar behind you, whimpering into her mouth as you rode her thigh…

The two of you were staying late at the dance studio to see if you could finally manage to perfect the lift in your duet that had been kicking your ass, and somewhere along the way, you’d found out just how fine the line between hatred and lust could be.

What possessed you to step- no, leap- over said line, you didn’t know, but you resigned to mulling over that later, when your sworn enemy wasn’t pulling at the hair on the nape of your neck.

Her tongue traces the line of your throat before she latches on; it isn’t long before she gets carried away and you let out a hiss at the pinch of her teeth on your pulse.

Her movements come to a halt. “Shit,” she’d exhale, “Sorry, didn’t mean to-”

“Keep going.”

She raises a brow, rearing her head back to look at you.“Yeah? I'm gonna leave a mark if I do.”

“I don’t care what you do, just want you to keep going.”

Who is she to deny such a sweet request?

She resumes her attack on the sensitive skin until the mark on your neck is to her liking. She pulls back to assess her handiwork, and you can’t help but chuckle at her concentration through your haze.

“Seriously? I think you're good, Vi.”

“Just makin’ sure,” she’d say with a lop-sided grin.

You shoot her a grin of your own. “Don’t worry; I know you don’t like to share.”

“No,” she begins before leaning in, her smile barely brushing your own, “I don’t.”

Your lips would meet again, tongues moving slow and languid against each other as she rocks into you just the same. The contact- however delicious- isn’t quite enough, and it’s starting to drive you crazy. Your breath is getting heavier, your whines more shameless, and you’ve started meeting each rock of her leg with the rock of your hips. You’re chasing more- you need more- and Vi can tell.

She’s not going to make it easy for you, of course.

She plants the heel of her foot back on the ground, separating her knee from the heat between your thighs.

“Wh-what?” You plead breathlessly, “Why’d you stop?”

“You sure you can handle this, sweetheart? You’re falling apart and I’m not even inside you yet.”

Your eyes shoot up to meet hers, wild and desperate.

“What,” she’d ask, cocking her head to the side, “Is that what you want? You want me inside?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, please, that’s what I want.”

You swear you can see her pupils blow out. You were begging for her. You’d been icing her out for the past seven years, and now, here you were, begging for her.

If this was a dream… then she was sure she’d wake up soon, and she wanted to taste you first.

“Can you hold out for just a little longer?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I mean, yeah… why?”

And then, Violet Lanes is on her knees in front of you.

“Oh. That's why.” Your smile is bashful as you look down at her, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Can I?” She peers up at you, hands toying with the waistband of your sweatpants.

“Fuck yes, you can.”

A satisfied smirk spreads across her face, and she tugs the sweatpants down to your ankles, leaving you to step out of the rest of the pooled material.

“Alright, baby; toss your leg up,” she commands, guiding your leg over her shoulder with a hand behind your thigh. Your hands grip the ballet bar behind you, and you hope to God you’ll be able to hold yourself up through the feeling of her mouth on you.

“You good? Holding on tight?”

“Yeah, yeah; I’m good.”

She nods from below you with a smile, and her hand comes trailing up the calf swung over her shoulder to the plush of your thigh seated next to her head. She’s got an arm wrapped around your other leg, securing you in place.

Your breath begins to stutter as she places open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thigh, your body twitching and tensing in anticipation each time she grows closer to where you need her.

“Relax,” she purrs, thumb rubbing circles into the meaty flesh beside her.

You nod, closing your eyes and leaning your head back with a sigh; and when she finally places a kiss on the patch of wetness soaking through your underwear, you fucking melt.

“Good girl,” she draws out, feeling your weight press into her fully. “You still good with this?”

“Violet, I’m gonna lose my mind if your mouth isn’t on me in-”

You yelp as she pulls your underwear to the side to lick a stripe up from the nectar pooling at your entrance to the hardened pearl above it.

“Not sure you’re in any position to make demands here, sugar plum.”

Your eyes roll back into your head when she attaches her lips to your clit, and when she sucks, your hand shoots down to grab at the hair on her crown.

She moans into you- noted- and her tongue darts back down to lap at your wetness, trailing up, then down, then up, then down, collecting as much as she can on the tip of her warm tongue.

“Fuck, princess; you taste so fucking good.”

She barely lets herself finish her sentence- words muffled in your pussy- before she’s back on your clit, swirling her tongue in circles around the swollen bud.

The grip you have on her hair is tighter now, your thighs trembling, your features knit together in pleasure; you look down to find Vi so lost in between your legs that you don’t even think she notices how close you are.

You loosen your grip on her hair to tap rapidly on her shoulder. “V-Vi, baby,”

As pussy drunk as she is, her head still snaps up at the sound of the pet name on your tongue. Her lips are swollen and glossy with your slick, her cheeks flushed red as the hair on her head.

“What’s up, princess?”

“J-just… gonna cum soon,” you pant, “want you inside first…”

“Yeah?” she smirks, gently guiding your leg off of her shoulder. She stands up, hand gripping your waist as she leans to press a sloppy kiss on your lips; and fuck, you can taste yourself on her mouth.

“Wanna cum on my fingers?” She asks in between kisses; and you nod against her mouth, hand on the back of her head pulling her impossibly close.

She chuckles into your mouth before pulling away to drink in your features; your pleading eyes, your soft lips, the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“You’re beautiful.”

There was that look: so soft. So soft that you could hardly stand it, your head lowering in order to escape it.

“Oh? You’re shy now?”

You giggle- and she wonders if that sound had always been so sweet- before pushing at her chest.

“Shut up. I'm not shy.”

“Oh, yeah?” The raise of her brow and the cockiness of her voice says she’s got something planned.

“Turn around for me, then.”

“I-I… what? I’m-”

“Turn. Around.”

Her grip on your waist tightens, and she’s twisting your hips until suddenly, you’re face-to-face with your own reflection.

“There’s my pretty girl,” she lulls, head dropping down to plant a kiss on your shoulder. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Y-yeah… yeah,” you breathe out. You’re watching yourself come undone for her.

“Look at me.”

You’re a little embarrassed at how quickly you obey.

“You look away, and I stop, yeah?”

You whine. “Vi, really? Just-”

For a moment, the intensity of her gaze disappears, as if she’s dropped whatever persona she’d been assuming; as if she was making herself smaller for you

“If you don’t like this, just let me know. Don’t want you uncomfortable or all in your head, yeah?”

You quirk a smile at her consideration. “No… I like it. I trust you.”

She smirks at you. “Just being a brat, then?”

Your eye roll answers that question.

“Just being a brat. Got it. Eyes on me then, baby.”

And then, she’s pulling your- now soaked- underwear down to your thighs, reaching down to glide her middle and ring fingers through your slick, and your eyes flutter shut, and you’ve already broken the one rule she gave you.

“Y/n,” she scolds, her fingers halting.

Your eyes fly open to find her again, and you’re muttering out a desperate apology, rocking back on her fingers, seeking any sensation you can get.

Her free arm comes around to circle your waist, holding you in place so that you can’t chase your release on your own. “I gave you one rule, sweetheart. Keep those pretty eyes on me and I promise I’ll make you cum.”

You nod frantically, eyes never leaving her own, even as she brings her fingers up to rub your own wetness into your clit; even as those fingers sink into you from behind, three knuckles deep.

“Jesus fuck,” she curses, “fuckin’ swallowing me.”

Your thighs are already shaking, your walls fluttering around her fingers as they adjust to the new fullness.

“Gonna move now, okay?” she warns before pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Yes,” you nod, “yes- fuck!”

You call out as her hand flips over, fingers rotating inside you to press into the ridges of nerves on your front wall.

“That didn’t take long to find…” she muses.

“Fuck you,” you scoff to the best of your ability- although it doesn’t really pack a punch when you look so blissed out- and Vi laughs at you.

She fucking laughs, and you remember for a moment what makes her so damn annoying; but then, she’s pistoning into you, and your mind goes blank.

You feel high off of her fingers, limbs tingling and head fuzzy, completely out of control of whatever sounds are coming out of your mouth. You can vaguely hear “fuck, yes,” and “shit, shit, shit,” and “please, Vi, please” in your own voice. You can vaguely hear the obscene sounds of her fingers moving in and out of your slick, which is, no doubt, dripping down your thighs by now. You can vaguely make out her focused expression through the stars you’re seeing.

When she brings her mouth to the shell of your ear to speak to you, though, it’s her voice that brings you back down to earth. “You with me, sweet girl? Focused on me?”

If you focus any harder on her fingers slipping in and out of you, or on the way her breath picks up in your ear, or on the furrow of her own brow, you’ll cum.

Wait… shit, you're about to cum.

“Vi,” you call out, eyes widening, “I’m gonna- I’m so close- fuck, please.”

In a second, the arm around your waist is unraveling, and she reaches down to rub tight circles onto your clit, coaxing you closer to the edge.

You can’t fucking help it; your eyes roll back, head falling back onto her shoulder, breaking the one rule she gave you.

“Sorry, sorry, ‘m sorry, I can’t-”

You’re near tears as her hands continue their ministrations. “ ‘S alright baby,” she coos, “You’re doing so fucking good, just want you to cum for me.”

And with a guttural noise you’ve never heard yourself make, you’re doing just that; spasming on her fingers, legs shaking underneath you, knuckles white as they grip the ballet bar you’re practically doubled over.

Vi works you through your orgasm until your hand is shooting down in between your legs, shooing her own away. “Shit, that’s enough… ‘m all done.”

She’s careful pulling out, taking the two digits into her own mouth before pulling your underwear back up in place. Her hands return to your hips, turning your body back towards her. You still haven’t opened your eyes; still trying to catch your breath.

“Hey,” she speaks softly, pulling you in, “You okay?”

When you open your eyes, she’s smiling down at you like she adores you. It’s so tender, so gentle; so much so that in the come down off the high you’d just experienced, you start to tear up.

“I’m sorry,” you begin with a sniffle, “for being such an asshole all this time.”

“Woah, woah, woah- first of all, so was I; but more importantly, you’re fucked out right now. Just worry about catching your breath for a few minutes, okay love?”

You give her a weak chuckle as she pulls away to gather your previously discarded bottoms. She leans down in front of you, guiding your legs as she directs you to put “one foot in… okay, now the other,” before pulling them up to their place on your hips.

You thank her with a smile, and she waves you off in response.

“Do you, uh…” she’s nervously rubbing the back of her neck as if she weren’t just demanding that you keep your eyes on her while she plowed you, “do you think you’d wanna come back to my place? Powder’s over at Ekko’s and my Dad has game nights with his friends every Wednesday, so it’ll just be us. We can just chill, watch a movie or something, order food if you want. Just… don’t wanna ditch you or anything, wanna make sure you’re all good after-”

“That sounds perfect, Violet.”

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

You’re not quite sure how seven years of pure, unadulterated loathing between you and Violet Lanes had led to this; a sleepover at her house, watching shitty action movies together, splitting a pizza, and falling asleep on the couch with your limbs tangled together.

But here you were. And it really was perfect; and everyone knows that you don’t settle for less than perfect.

𝐄𝐍𝐃 ୨ৎ

Taglist: @spidercat-soccerfan, @lipglosskxsses, @baylegend6

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thischarmingmandalorian · 10 months ago

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I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

Couple, Bar Chapter 1

Summary: After you help Joel with a work project, he takes you out for drinks. When the bartender mistakes you for a couple, his brain short circuits.

Pairing: Single Dad Neighbor!Joel Miller X Reader

Warnings: Joel thinking being mean is flirting, alcohol, grinding on strangers, getting groped in public, no-no words. In my mind there's an age gap (10 years max) and I envision a mid-40s Joel, but I don't think it'll ever become apparent.

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: Formatting on mobile is not for the weak, y'all, so if this looks like ass I'm sorry. I don't know what a contractor does. Song mentioned is Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship) by Studio Killers. Full playlist is linked on the master post for this series (which I'll learn to link all together soon I promise I'M OLD, OK?!) Also I promise I have an English degree but if I read this one more time I'll lose the nerve to post it so ignore any mistakes I missed. Anyway love you bye.

While you weren't on your neighbor Joel's payroll, every now and then he'd knock on your door and sheepishly ask to borrow your "eye for design," which was Joel talk for "I need help knowing what handles look good on these cabinets I'm building and every other person in my life is busy."

You and Joel had been neighbors for the better part of 5 years and had become relatively close in that time. If you were being honest with yourself, the first day you met you might have fallen in love, but since immediately jumping into a relationship with a newly-divorced single father wasn't on your five-year plan, those feelings were buried, albeit not always successfully.

Joel was charming, kind, and... Southern. And while these were all things that made you head over heels for him, they were exactly what made it difficult to interpret his feelings for you. Were he and Sarah baking you Christmas cookies and hand delivering them to your door because he too had a crush, or was he just being neighborly? Was he grinning every time he said hello to you because he was a nice guy? What were you supposed to make of that one time, on his couch for movie night, when his hand lingered a little longer than normal on your thigh? You had no idea, and for the sake of your friendship, you were content not knowing.

On this particular day, Joel needed help matching paint colors to flooring samples and might as well have been color blind. He was building a house for a newlywed couple and their wishes for, as Joel put it, "some 1960s Brady Bunch bullshit" aesthetic meant nothing to him. You had spent the better part of an hour helping Joel match swatches of green and orange in ways that he had previously thought impossible, and as a thank you, he offered to buy you a drink at the first bar you spotted on the way home.

The first bar you spotted happened to be an almost-literal hole in the wall, but the packed parking lot indicated it was a place worth visiting. Joel opened the door, beckoning you through the threshold ahead of him, and you're hit with a wall of smoke and the bump of a local dj working through his set.

Luckily most of the people at the bar had already started drinking and were congregated in the middle of the tiny dance floor, making it easy to find two seats. Joel flagged the bartender over and ordered for the both of you, handing his card over to start a tab.

"Got you a beer, this place doesn't look like they'd make a good margarita," Joel shouts over the music.

You smile, leaning in close to thank Joel. "I appreciate the forethought! Send me a Venmo request for what I end up owing you," you gesture to the frosty bottles that get put in front of you.

Joel tuts and waves his hand between you two in a noncommittal gesture. He leans in close to your ear instead of shouting this time, "consider it payment for your help today. When that couple told me they wanted their house to be 'midcentury Palm Springs chic' I knew you'd know what they meant. The wife kept sending me links to her Pinterest board, whatever the fuck that is. I was too scared to click them because..."

"Because you're fucking old," you finish, barking out a laugh at the frown that Joel gives you.

After one beer turned into three, Joel starts to open up. Despite his gruff exterior, you know he cares and is interested in your life, even if it takes some alcohol to get him asking about it.

"Have you started dating yet?" The question catches you off guard, your eyes growing wide. "What? You've been in town for five years now, it's high time you start putting yourself out there. A pretty girl like you should have no trouble finding a man."

There it is again. Is Joel just being nice calling you pretty? Or is he fishing for something more?

"Have you started dating?" you counter, raising an eyebrow, nodding when Joel shakes his head. "I'm too busy, Joel. I'm…"

"'Focusing on my career,'" Joel finishes for you, having heard it all before.

You roll your eyes. "Why are we talking about this?"

Joel smirks and cocks his head to your beer, the label in the process of being peeled completely off. "You've peeled the label off every drink you've had tonight."

"Oh…kay?"

Joel shrugs, "if Tommy were here he'd say you're pulling the labels off because you're sexually frustrated." He makes a face as if to say 'but what do I know?'

You raised an eyebrow at Joel. "You of all people should know not to take what Tommy says as fact. And you're one to talk; you live across the street, I'd notice if women were coming over. And they're not. You're going through a dry spell, Miller, same as me." You empty your bottle, stuffing the label down the neck and waving the bartender over for you and Joel to order one more round. Joel tries to think of a witty comeback, but he knows you're right.

You watch the bartender open your tab on the till behind the bar and chuckle when you notice what she's titled it: at the top of the screen, in bold letters, "COUPLE BAR."

You tap Joel's bicep, pointing to the screen, "look at that, Miller," you shout over the music, "she thinks you and I are a couple."

Joel looks at the screen himself, eyes suddenly going wide. You raise an eyebrow at him, confused as to why he isn't just chuckling at the bartender's misunderstanding, but your expression turns to one of anger once Joel regains use of his brain and the only thing he can think to say is, "... ew?"

You hope you just misheard him over the loud music, but as Joel started to sputter out an apology, looking horrified at what he had said, you realize - a stranger thought you two were dating, and Joel thinks that's gross. You weren't interested in hearing him trip over his words while he tried to backtrack, and you desperately needed a distraction so you didn't start to cry. You wave your hand in front of Joel's face, telling him to save it as you grab your beer and push past him to the dance floor.

This is definitely not your scene, the middle of a smoke-filled bar on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, but you make the most of it, taking a swig from your bottle as you push through the crowd. Once you've made your way to the center of the crowd, you assume the position - eyes closed, bottle raised above your head, swinging your hips to whatever top 40 hit the dj decides to bleed into the last one he played. You don't have to wait long before you feel a body push up behind you and you welcome the distraction. You don't open your eyes or lower your hand except to drink from your near empty bottle, but you do back your ass up against the stranger behind you. It's definitely not Joel. This person behind you is way too lanky; when his arms encircle your waist they lack definition, his thighs aren't nearly as beefy as Joel's, and… you get frustrated with yourself. Joel just insinuated dating you would be gross and all you can do is think about how hot he is?

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts and enjoy the moment. The guy behind you is getting handsy, and normally that would bother you, but Joel was right about that dry spell. One song bleeds into another as you gyrate against this stranger who now has his hand splayed across your stomach under your shirt.

You're ripped unceremoniously from your mindless grinding by a large hand on your shoulder. You wink one eye open though you knew it was Joel. You're not interested in hearing him out, especially not with this stranger's hand gliding slowly up your torso, boldly inching closer to your chest.

"Darlin'" you hear Joel shout over the music, "'m sorry. I didn't mean…"

You put your palm in front of Joel's face before moving your hand on top of the stranger's, whose fingers are teasing the hem of your bra. Joel can be sorry, but he's also going to see how decidedly not-ew the thought of being with you is.

"Whatever, Joel. You can think being my boyfriend is gross. This is fine!" You open your eyes and the look on Joel's face is one you've never seen before. At this point he isn't looking at you, he's staring daggers at the man behind you. Whoever he is seems blissfully unaware.

"Honey, I'm out of touch. I'm fucking old, you said it yourself! I don't know how to - hey, buddy, do you fucking mind?" The hand under your shirt loses its grip on you as Joel shoves the shoulder of the guy behind you. Suddenly his body unglues itself from your back.

"My bad, man. Didn't know she had a boyfriend," he shouts over the music as he disappears back into the crowd. You groan and roll your eyes.

"So sorry, Joel! Turns out when you look and act like my boyfriend, people think you really are! How embarrassing for you," you ramble into Joel's ear. You turn to walk off the dance floor, embarrassed, but before you're out of his reach Joel grabs your forearm, pulling gently until you're flush with his body. He towers over you, his eyes bore into yours.

"Please listen," he bends to speak quietly into your ear, "I'm sorry, and I mean it. We're friends, and I value that. I thought I was bantering, bein' funny. I know you don't want to be a couple at this bar. I know you want to be friends, nothing more, with me. But…" he trails off, pulling away to look at your face.

The atmosphere changes in a way that you swear is straight out of a movie. The lights pulsing and flashing are hitting Joel's face in a way that makes him even more handsome, which you'd thought previously impossible. While your beer bottle is empty, clutched into your hand that hangs limply at your side, Joel's drink is nearly full, still frosty, and dripping condensation through your shirt, soaking your lower back. Joel's eyebrows are raised, waiting for you to do or say anything.

And then the dj changes the song. You are… intimately familiar with what begins to play and you shake your head, chuckling. What divine intervention drove the dj to start playing a song about ruining a friendship at this very moment? You have no idea, but you make a mental note to thank the universe as you smile at Joel. You push away from him for just a second, long enough to rip the label off your empty beer bottle. Joel looks confused watching you ball up the damp paper.

You chuckle as you toss the label at Joel, it pinging off his temple before you spin your body so your back is plastered against Joel's front.

You'll show him sexually frustrated.

Joel seems to take a second to read the situation because his body doesn't move. In fact, it goes rigid. Your hips sway against him anyway. Joel only breaks out of his spell when your arm snakes around his neck and you bury your fingers in his hair. Tugging gently on his curls seems to awaken something in him and his hands are on you in seconds. The hand clutching his beer comes to rest on your hip as the other picks up where your previous dance partner left off, creeping under your shirt and splaying across your stomach.

"What are we doin' here, baby?" Joel rasps into your ear, his voice deeper and more strained than you're used to. "I guess I deserve you teasin' me, but two can play this game." Joel's nose prods at a spot behind your ear as he peels one cup of your bra away from your body, replacing it with his hand. Your eyes fly open to ensure no one notices, but everyone on the dance floor is busy paying attention to their own partners. Joel rolls your nipple between two fingers before giving it a flick; you try and suppress a moan.

Not to be outdone, you reach for the beer bottle in Joel's hand. You make sure Joel's eyes are locked on you as you lick a stripe up the neck of the bottle, taking a generous sip before handing it back. Joel's eyes widen and he smirks, bringing his mouth back to your ear.

"Think it goes without sayin' now, but I really don't hate the idea of people thinking you're mine," Joel accentuates his last word with a gentle nip at your earlobe that makes your head loll back onto his shoulder.

"Are you listening to the song, Joel?" You reach up to place your hand on Joel's cheek, turning his face gently so your eyes meet. He looks confused, but you can tell he's training his ear onto the chorus of what's playing.

I wanna ruin our friendship

We should be lovers instead

I don't know how to say this

'Cause you're really my dearest friend

Joel lowers his eyes back down to meet yours and smirks. "You an' me both, darlin'." His hand around your waist pulls you impossibly closer and you feel him grow hard against your ass.

"Know where I last heard this song?" The final notes start to dissipate, melding seamlessly with the next song. Joel shakes his head and asks where. You smirk, nuzzling into Joel's neck before you lick a stripe up to his ear. "It's on my sex playlist."

Joel stills. You grin, giggling as he pushes you away gently. "I've gotta close out the tab," he says once he remembers how to form thoughts into words. "Meet me at the truck. And think about what song you're gonna put on once I get you home."

#joel miller smut #fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou smut #couple bar #neighbor!joel

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enviedear · 5 months ago

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love to keep me warm ❅ dick grayson

part of enviedear's winter wonderland... 🎧ྀི dick grayson is your best friend, and has been since he moved to blüdhaven. you're more than familiar with taking trips to gotham with him, especially during the holidays! you've yet to miss one of bruce wayne's christmas galas—but this year is different. this year, you're hopelessly trying to hide the recent crush you've developed on your best friend. wc 2.0k | fluff, like, the fluffiest fluff

the pristine penmanship of an envelope, mingled in the mix of bills and various other junk mail, has you feeling nervous. unlike previous times—every other time—you're not excited to be invited to bruce wayne's annual holiday gala. not this year, at least.

perhaps if you hadn't spent the spring and summer falling head over heels for your best friend—or, partner in good—that's what dick calls it.

you hadn't meant to fall for him. in honest, you've tried your entire life to stop any of this for ever happening. there were times, when you were younger and dick was still outwardly an idiot, that you'd let yourself imagine it for a moment...being with him. but you always stopped yourself, never let the idea take root.

but then the hottest summer in blüdhaven history happened—and dick was so kind to offer up his apartment to you. generator-backed and remarkably cooler than your twenties era studio, you started out happy to have your best friend as a roommate. until it became too real, too perfect, and too out of your control.

dick grayson has always been a handsome guy, beautiful even, in some lights. but he's also the dork that sat in gum on the subway before his first dance, the annoyance who winks across the room when a conversation is going well, the loser that practices lines in his bathroom mirror—for criminals or lovers, you're unsure. he's been strictly off limits in your mind since you met.

but now—now he's morphed into something much more, and with it, so has your innocent little crush. you feel unable to hide it. always on edge when he emerges from his room. what used to be normal hang outs now have you feeling like a teen on her first date—you find it completely rancid. everything was much easier when you had control over these feelings.

the envelope sits in your hands, a little heavier than it should. you can already picture the grandeur of the evening—bruce in his tuxedo, smiling picturesque and politely, surrounded by gotham’s elite. alfred’s impeccable hors d'oeuvres and gentle quips. damian sulking somewhere in a corner, occasionally muttering about the frivolity of the season. and then dick...in a tailored suit that'll make your chest tighten, effortlessly charming as always.

you’ve been to enough of them to know the drill. you’ve stood by dick’s side countless times, smiling as people ask if you’re together. the answer has always been a laugh and, “no, just friends.” but this year, you’re not sure you can manage the smile.

“hey, you okay?” dick’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. he’s standing in the doorway, hair damp from a shower, a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips, and a loose t-shirt that somehow still clings perfectly to his frame. you hate how easily he does this to you.

“yeah, m'fine.” you say quickly, stuffing the envelope into the pile of mail. “just bills.”

your mail still gets delivered to his place—despite the fact that you've updated your address again. it shouldn't be such an annoyance. really, it's a perfect opportunity to see him more...but seeing him while harboring the biggest crush possible is taxing.

he gives you a look, one that’s a little too knowing for your comfort. “you sure? you look…tense.”

“i’m fine.” you insist, maybe a bit too sharply.

“okay, okay!” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. but there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes. “you know, if you’re stressed, we could do one of those cheesy holiday things to cheer you up. ice skating? christmas movies? oh, wait—gingerbread houses. you can’t be grumpy while decorating a gingerbread house.”

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “are you suggesting that i’m grumpy?”

“never.” he says with a grin that’s so sincere it’s almost maddening. “but you’ve been…quiet lately. i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“i’m fine, grayson. really.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go, instead grabbing an apple from the counter and leaning against it as he takes a bite. “there should be something from bruce in there—you’re still coming to the gala, right? you know it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

your stomach twists at the thought. you can’t imagine spending an entire evening pretending your feelings don’t exist, not when they’re so painfully obvious to you now. but you nod anyway, because what else can you do?

“yeah, of course i am!” you say, forcing a smile.

dick beams, and it’s so genuine, benevolent even, that for a moment you forget why you were ever worried. but then he turns back to his apple, oblivious to the way your heart is practically in your throat, and you’re reminded all over again.

surely—this is going to be the longest holiday season of your life.

the night of the gala arrives faster than you expected. the manor is alive with golden lights and soft music, the atmosphere a blend of sophistication and holiday magic. you’re in a dress that felt perfect when you bought it but now feels too tight under the weight of your nerves. dick, of course, looks effortlessly stunning in a black tuxedo, his smile lighting up the room as he greets guests.

you stick to the edges of the event, trying to avoid mingling too much. the grandeur of the wayne manor only amplifies your discomfort, the chandeliers and opulent decorations feeling like a spotlight on your inner turmoil.

but dick finds you, as he always does, weaving through the crowd with that natural charm. “hey, you’re not hiding over here, are you?”

“no, just…taking it all in.”

“uh-huh,” he says, tone teasing as he leans against the wall beside you. “you know, bruce said something interesting earlier.”

“oh?” you ask, trying to sound casual as your heart rate picks up. terrible.

“yeah. he mentioned you’ve been coming to these galas for years, but he’s never seen you dance.”

you laugh nervously. “i don’t dance...this way. you know i can't waltz.”

“that’s a real shame,” dick says, holding out his hand. “because i happen to be a great dancer. and i think tonight’s the perfect night to be your instructor.”

“dick, i—” you start, only to be shushed with his pointer to your lips.

“no excuses.” he says, his grin soft but heavily insistent. “come on, it’s christmas. live a little, dance a little.”

before you can protest further, he’s guiding you to the center of the room. the music shifts to something slower, more romantic, and you feel your breath catch as he places a hand on your waist, the other still holding yours. his touch is warm and grounding, but it only makes the butterflies in your stomach worse.

“see? not so bad.” he says, his voice low as he leads you effortlessly across the floor. “you’re a natural.”

“hardly.” you murmur, eyes fixed on his collar to avoid looking directly at him. but he tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze anyway.

“hey.” he says gently. “you can look at me, you know. i don’t bite.”

you laugh, though it comes out shakier than you intended. when your eyes finally meet his, there’s something in his expression that makes your breath hitch. it’s kindly and steady, but there’s an intensity to it too, like he’s searching for something—scouting.

“dick…” you start, unsure of what you’re even trying to say.

“you know,” he interrupts, his voice dropping to a whisper, “you’ve been on my mind a lot lately.”

your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest. “huh?”

he nods, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “yeah. and i think…i think we should talk. after this.”

“after this?” you repeat, eyebrows furrowed.

he smiles, but there’s a hint of trepidation behind it. “yeah. but later, let’s just...enjoy this rare blessing of you dancing.”

you want to deny his request—hound him for the meaning of whatever “this” is. but you don’t. maybe even can’t—you’re unsure. because when you finally lock eyes on dick grayson, he’s looking at you as if you're the bright, shining, expensive star atop the tree.

as the song begins to fade, the chatter around the room grows louder, mixed with clinking glasses and rhythmic heels. dick doesn’t let go of your hand, even as the music shifts to something livelier. his thumb brushes gently over your knuckles, and you have to stop yourself from sighing in outright adoration. he's just being cavalier—you remind yourself.

“come with me?” he says softly, leaning down so only you can hear him.

“what? where?” you ask, glancing nervously at the sea of people around you.

“somewhere quieter.” his tone leaves little room for argument, and before you can overthink it, he’s guiding you through the crowd with a natural ease.

the two of you slip out onto the balcony, noting small flurries of snow raining down. for a moment, you’re grateful for the fresh air, until you take a look back to dick.

he leans against the railing, hands braced on either side of himself as he peers into the distance. he’s silent for a moment, and then you hear him sigh.

“dick?” your voice is hesitant.

he turns to you, his expression so sincere it causes your head to rush. “i wasn’t kidding earlier, you know. about—thinking about you.”

you freeze, your mind racing. “what do you mean?”

“i mean…” he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that makes your lips curve. “i mean, this past year—living together for a bit, working together—i realized something.”

you swallow hard, your chest tightening. “what did you realize?”

“that i’ve been an fuckin' idiot,” he says, his voice softer now. “i’ve spent all this time thinking of you as my best friend, you know? my really perfect best friend…" he trails off, scanning your face before starting up again, "but somewhere along the way, you became so much more to me. i think i’ve been too scared to admit it, but i thought, you'd deserve to know.”

the words hang in the air, and for a second, you’re sure you’ve misheard him. that your brain pulled fantasy into some horrid delusion—but the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the world, leaves no room for doubt.

“you…i'm sorry. what?” you whisper, voice more mouselike than human.

“i like you,” he says simply, his gaze unwavering. “more than a friend. more than a best friend. and i think maybe i’ve felt this way for a while, but i didn’t want to mess up what we have.” he says it as if he's reading off his grocery list, so willful with his truth.

your heart feels like it’s about to burst, a mix of disbelief and relief flooding through you. “dick, i—”

“wait,” he interrupts, holding up a hand. “before you say anything, i just…needed you to know. because pretending everything’s normal when it’s not is starting to drive me crazy. and if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. totally okay. we can go back to how things were. i’ll deal with it." he shrugs, avoiding eye contact now, "i just couldn’t go another year without telling you.”

“i like you back, god, i have for so long.” you say, your voice faltering off near the end.

his eyes widen, surprise and hope flickering across his face. “you do?”

you nod, a small laugh escaping you. “of course i do. you’re—ugh, you’re everything, dick. and i’ve been trying to ignore it because i didn’t want to ruin what we have either. but…yeah, i like you. a lot.”

for a moment, neither of you says anything. just staring at eachother without the barrier of friendship—somehow it makes him look even more divine. then, before you can blink, he reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans in.

the kiss is soft and tentative at first, as if he’s afraid you might pull away or reject it. but when you don’t—when your hands find their way to his shoulders—he deepens it, pouring every unspoken word into his kiss.

when you finally break apart, you’re both breathless, a quiet laugh escaping him as he rests his forehead against yours.

“merry christmas.” he whispers, his voice warm. the sound rumbles through his chest.

“merry christmas.” you reply, heart full and satiated. and for the first time, you're glad you fell headfirst for your bestfriend—even more glad he followed suit.

#⤸ enviedear #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #dc nightwing #dc dick grayson #dc x reader #richard grayson x reader #richard grayson

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whore4abby · 2 years ago

Note

heyyyy vannyyyyyy i love u sm i promise i'm not being a lurker

what abt model reader and abby at like a designers party (yk the devil wears prada 👀)

i'm too obsessed with everything u write is there like a support group or something for whore4abby addicts

ferny fern ur brain !! this idea is so yummy 😵‍💫 i love u MORE !! thank u for this hope u don’t mind me switching it up a lil mwah mwah !! NO ONE would join that damn support group bffr wrote this at 3am let’s not talk abt it

high fashion;

kinda a part two of this !!

warnings; smut - sex in a public bathroom, strap-on usage (r!receiving), choking (with abby’s tie), mdni

wc; 1.7k

“abs…c’mon, baby…we gotta leave in a few minutes.” you call out to your wife who’s spent the last 30 minutes making sure she looks absolutely perfect, not one hair out of place in her braid, making sure her new tux was absolutely spotless.

“i’m coming, doll…gimme a minute.” she calls out softly and you laugh and roll your eyes playfully at her antics. the ongoing joke that she spends way more time getting ready than you do slowly but surely starting to become a reality.

you smooth out the fabric of your almost sheer, black satin dress and slip on your jimmy choo heels, grabbing your purse from the dresser before looking up just as abby walks out from the bathroom. you swear you feel your eyes turn into little heart shapes as you see her.

she looks nothing short of absolutely perfect in her sleek, tailored black tux paired with her shiny black dress shoes, her muscular forearms filling out the sleeves of her suit jacket and her long hair slicked back from her face. you're absolutely smitten as you rush over to press your lips against hers repeatedly, “god, you’re so pretty…” you sigh, words coming out as a breathless whisper as you press your face against her chest, closing your eyes and breathing in her familiar scent.

before you know it you’re gathered in a spacious studio for a small, intimate gathering of some couture designers to showcase their new up-coming works. you’re surrounded by mannequins displaying gorgeous designer clothes, along with an assortment of clothes scattered around the room, from elegant ballgowns to sophisticated suit jackets.

the windows are covered in velvet drapes, allowing a small amount of natural moonlight to flood the room. everyone whispering discreetly amongst themselves, scanning the surroundings and taking in all the lavish clothing and glittering accessories.

you wander off away from abby for a little while, you’re quietly minding your own business checking out some artist sketches that are carefully hung up on the wall when you feel a presence beside you. “beautiful aren’t they?” a heavily accented voice causes you to look away from the framed pictures and you turn your head to see a familiar italian designer.

“yeah…they’re gorgeous! are they for the new spring-summer collection?” you query, you head tilting curiously in his direction. “yes, that’s correct…these pieces should be out within the next couple of months.” he smirks and leans in closer to you.

“i was actually just thinking about you.” he places a hand on your shoulder and you resist the urge to shudder in disgust. “oh, please…i’m not that special.” you force a stiff laugh and shake your head, after all this time you still find it hard to believe that you have become a well-known, household named model.

“im serious! i saw you at that runway show a couple weeks ago…and let me say, it’s been driving me crazy ever since. ive been dying to get in contact with you-“ he chuckles, his gaze drifting down towards you body. he takes your hand in his, a cunning smile spreading wide as he leans in to kiss your cheek. you shake his hand curtly before pulling your hand back and jerking your face away from him.

he continues to flirt with you, his eyes finding yours and locking onto them. “perhaps you’d be interesting in catching a drink tonight?” he looks down at your shoulder and casually caresses it with his hand. “my hotel is just a couple blocks away, and i know you’re staying in the city the whole weekend. so whatdya say?”

you start purposely clinking your perfectly polished wedding ring against your half empty champagne glass, hoping he gets the hint. “i’ll actually be busy with my wife….in our own hotel room, thank you very much.”

you catch a glimpse of abby across the room, she instantly feels a pang of jealousy as she watches him openly flirt with her girl practically right in front of her face.

her brow begins to furrow and she discreetly ends the conversation she’s having and makes her way over to you, she obviously saw the guy kiss you, and she’s clearly not happy about it.

you watch his smile falter a little at the mention of your wife, and he directs his gaze towards abby as she approaches, obviously intimidated by her height and stature. “everything okay, my love?” she asks, her eyes still watching the designer. you lean in to kiss her briefly before pulling away and nodding, wrapping your arm around her bicep.

he finally gets the hint and laughs, taking a step or two back. “hmm, well isn’t that a shame?” he says with a grin. he turns to walk away, before stopping and turning back to face you. “well if you ever want to get in touch, here’s my card.” he holds out a small business card with his details on it and smiles at you, abby quickly pushes his hand away and speaks in a passive-aggressive manner, “my wife and i won’t be needing that, thank you.”

he laughs cockily, obviously slightly amused before turning on his heel and walking off to probably shamelessly flirt with another married woman.

abby leans into you, resting her head against yours, taking the champagne flute out of your hand and placing it on a nearby silver side-table. her eyes still watching the designer as he saunters away. “i don’t like how he was looking at you, darling.”

you roll your eyes at her comment, giggling slightly. “babe, calm down,” you say, squeezing her hand. you look over at her and smirk at her. “but you’re really the only one who i’ve got my eyes on, okay?”

“you’re mine…all fuckin mine~” her voice is rough, and she still can’t shake her jealousy from that designer looking at you. abby leans in and kisses you on the neck, her lips gently sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin.

abby smiles wickedly at you, before grabbing you by the hand and quickly dragging you to the back of the boutique. you find yourself in a fancy, private bathroom and abby quickly locks the door behind you. she pulls you in for a heated kiss and you can feel her firm body pressing against yours.

abby’s tongue gently plays against yours, her hands caressing your face and your body, slowly pulling you closer to her. she bites down on your bottom lip slightly, but not hard enough to hurt you.

she pulls away for a second before diving back in, kissing you passionately and with more force than before. “all mine~” she whispers in your ear, her breath hot on your neck, her fingers finding their way down to hike your dress up over you ass, bending you over in the sink counter.

you hear the zipper of her pants being yanked down and the rusting of her shirt being untucked before she pulls your panties off your body and discards them onto the floor before nudging your legs apart with her knee.

you whine as she swipes the tip of the strap-on through your sticky folds, gathering up your slick before pressing the head of the dildo against your slit. “say it…tell me who's the only one who gets you this wet~” she pushes in slowly, groaning at the sight of your pussy greedily taking her cock. “you, abs…fuucck- only you!”

she thrusts herself fully inside without warning, all seven inches of black silicone right up to the hilt making you cry out, feeling every vein and ridge flush against the walls of your cunt. the stinging stretch causing your face to contort in a mixture of pleasure and pain as she pulls out until just the tip remains inside, then slams back in. she roughly manhandles you, slamming you back on her cock. “nnhhggg…a-abby~”

you hear her fumbling with something before you suddenly feel pressure around your throat, the silky material of her tie digs into your neck as she wraps it around your throat and yanks you back to make eye contact with her in the mirror. “look at me while im fucking you, yeah?” she growls through gritted teeth, her eyes dark and filled with jealousy fueled lust.

you’re gripping onto the marble counter so hard that your knuckles are starting to lose their colour, strangled moans leaving your lips, the perfectly applied lipstick now smudged around your mouth in messy splotches.

she drops the tie onto the counter and you gasp for some much needed air. she snakes her free hand down to rub at your clit lazily as she snaps her hips into yours at an eye-rolling pace. “a-abby! oohhh…my god…fuck…” the fingers of her unoccupied hand dig into your hip, holding you in place as she starts to pound into you relentlessly, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the small bathroom.

she groans, picking up the pace, the friction from the harness against her clit making her moans grow louder and more desperate, hips grinding into you in-between thrusts as she chases her own release.

you thighs start to clench and shake as her pace picks up even more, leaving you gasping and grabbing at any surface you can find to ground yourself. “you feel that? only i can make you cum like this, yeah?” you’re babbling incoherently as the the head of her cock keeps bumping into that sweet spot until it has you letting out a loud pleading cry as you cum on her cock.

she keeps thrusting, prolonging your release as she helps you ride out your own orgasm, her thick fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

“fuuccckk~” she pants heavily, leaning forward to rest her head against your back, the harness still grinding against her clit and making her cum hard whilst still buried inside you.

she lets out a loud groan as she pulls out with a pop, looking down at the mess between your legs and the cum dripping from your clenching cunt. you turn back to face her and she brings your mouths together in a brief, heated kiss before pulling away and carefully helping you clean yourself up.

she tucks her strap-on back into her pants and neatens her tux up before picking up your discarded panties and shoving them into her pocket before holding her arm out for you to take. “c’mon, baby~” her chivalrous action a stark contrast to the way she just fucked you into oblivion not even five minutes ago.

you smile coyly, adjusting your dress and grabbing onto her forearm as she leads you out of the bathroom and back out into the main studio space, not even caring about the skeptical looks and the un-approving stares of the people around you.

an; model!reader has me in an absolute chokehold right now😵‍💫if u have any ideas for more PLSSS leave me a request !!!!

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ⋆.ೃ࿔myfics⌨️#⋆｡˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚requests🫙#abby anderson #abby tlou #tlou abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby x you #abby anderson x y/n

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whisperingmidnights · 1 year ago

Text

Sea of Change: Part One

Pairing: Rhys x female!Reader

Wordcount: 6,278

Series Masterlist

A/N: As I was writing this, I realized that this part spans quite a bit of time. I've decided to break it into three or four parts, so I can maintain my own sanity and do the story justice. Every part just seems to get longer and longer, and I didn't want to have to try and put out a 30,000-word installment.

Slush still clings to the street corners of Velaris, the final echo of the storm that had blanketed the Night Court capital for the better portion of a week. With Starfall only weeks away, the moment the snow started to melt preparations for the city’s annual festival began. The public parks and gardens have been refreshed and readied for spring’s first blooms to break through the ground after a long winter slumber. Now, as the streets are swept and restaurants begin to prepare their patios for warmer weather, I follow patiently at Yasmin’s heels while she carefully prunes the bleeding heart plants she’s been cultivating for the new garden going in near the harbor. Thick, black curls spill out of the golden clip secured at the back of her head like unruly pothos vines. I shift the bucket of tools and seedlings in my hands, fighting the urge to drop it and fix the clip for her as she bats a few stray tendrils of hair out of her moss green eyes.

Her light brown hand gently cups one of the crimson blooms the way a mother might cradle her child’s face.

“They seem awfully delicate,” I murmur as the tendril of blossoms stretches towards her as if she were the sun. In the low, early morning light streaming in through the fogged greenhouse panes, I can’t deny she is the warmest thing in the room. The apron covering her turmeric yellow pants is smeared with soil, and the ivy cutting that had been tucked into one of her front pockets has doubled in size in the time we’ve been here, budding new, verdant leaves as it sprawls towards the floor.

“They usually are,” Yasmin says, her melodic voice as light as a stream trickling over stones, “but I’ve been working with these plants all winter to strengthen their blooms. They’re heartier now, the petals aren’t as thin, and do you see how thick the stems are? They’ll be perfect for the new statue. Have you seen it, by the way?”

“No, I haven’t been by Enzo’s studio in months.” Not since the party last autumn he and Yas hosted in his rooftop garden, anyway. Enzo had come from Orelia about a century prior, leaving behind the Dawn Court capital to bring his partner home, constantly swearing he would go home once Nasir was laid to rest. That day came and went only a few short years after he opened his studio, and Enzo remained. We asked why one night after too much wine around the firepit, and he said he couldn’t bear to leave the friends and life he’s made in Velaris. Honestly? I don’t think he can stand to be anywhere Nasir is not. “I should pay him a visit.”

“You should,” Yasmin agrees, dusting her hands on her apron as she stands. “I understand courting the High Lord keeps you busy-”

“We’re not-”

“The only person insisting you’re not is you, my love. The rest of us have eyes and ears.” She twines the rogue ivy vine through her fingers as she walks towards the door that separates her storefront from the massive greenhouse stocked with the ever-blooming flowers that fill her bouquets, as well as new fruit trees from the continent that the neighboring farmers will plant once the ground has thawed and her own corner filled with experiments I do not dare to wander towards without Yasmin’s supervision. Not after the incident with the Devil’s Claw last summer, anyway. “How is Hanita faring with the General, by the way? Is he still coming around to ‘apologize’?”

“Cassian is back in Illyria until Starfall,” I huff, jostling my bucket until I can get my arms more firmly around it as she leans against the door, holding it open for me. “But she still looks at the door every time the bell rings. She won’t admit it, but I think she misses him.”

“I would think, with him being an Illyrian male, she wouldn’t be interested. Isn’t that why she’s in Velaris? Because she couldn’t stand to be around them anymore?”

“Where did you hear that?” I frown, setting the bucket on the worktable at the back of the shop. Its rough wooden surface is still littered with stray leaves and dead stems from the orders she’d prepared last night.

“People talk,” Yasmin says with a shrug, “and I’ve always been pretty good at overhearing-”

“You mean eavesdropping.”

“Call it what you want, I find out what I want to know either way.”

It’s true. Yas might not be a source of gossip, but she certainly is a connoisseur of it. I’ve received my fair share of information from her in the past. I don’t say a word as I watch her carefully place her cuttings in little jars of water and set them on the sill that gets the most sun, and she doesn’t press any further. I’m not eager to discuss any part of Hanita’s life, but especially not Cassian’s persistent presence in it. Definitely not when she doesn’t seem to have decided what she wants to do with him anyway.

“So?” Yasmin says after she’s put the last of her tools away, but I simply give her a little shrug until she gives me a heavy sigh and continues. “How are things with the High Lord anyway?”

“He’s fine.” My attempt to keep my tone light falls flat, and she arches one dark, slender eyebrow at me. “Really, he is. Things, as you call them, are fine. He’s busy running the territory and finalizing proposals for trade agreements, he’s barely had time to think about me, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know if that’s true-”

“And anyway, I have my shop and Starfall preparations. Roz and Achir are going to bake breakfast pastries and I’m going to host a story time for the little ones while their mothers have tea and socialize. Mira’s already exhausted by the idea of so many children running around the shop, but Hanita and I are so excited.”

“I could come by and help, if you’d like,” she offers with a smile, “I’ll be up before the sun to inspect the gardens alongside the High Lord’s master gardeners, but then I’ll be free as a bird. Have you decided what you’re going to wear for Starfall?”

“Honestly? I haven’t given it a thought. I imagine I’ll pull something out of the back of my wardrobe-”

“Or you could leave it to me!”

“Are you tired of dressing up your sisters?” I tease, leaning against her sales counter. “Do you need another doll to play with?”

“Maybe,” Yasmin sniffs, laying out the slips for her afternoon orders. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I think Roz said she had something for you to wear-”

“She did not.”

“She did! She did, I swear. I haven’t seen it, whatever it is, but I heard she worked as a seamstress when she was young. I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.”

I don’t really know how to respond, not that the lump forming in my throat would let me if I wanted to. I watch her hastily scribbling down the notes of all the flowers she’ll need to fill the orders, my fingers itching to take the paper from her and return to the greenhouse, if only to give myself some space to breathe. When Yas turns back, the note clutched in her fist, she looks past me with narrowing eyes, her head cocked curiously as she says,

“Do you need something, or are you just going to lurk in the shadows like a ghoul?”

“I wasn’t lurking in the shadows,” comes the dark rumble of Azriel’s voice, tinted with the faintest hint of confusion. I glance back over my shoulder with a smile as the door falls shut behind him, and he gives me a respectful nod before focusing those formidable hazel eyes on Yasmin as he comes closer, each measured step falling against the floor like the steady beat of a drum. “Not this time, at least. Inaya sent me over, she said you might be able to answer some questions regarding a particular plant.”

“Inaya couldn’t answer them herself?” Yasmin asks, cocking her head at the shadowsinger. “She’s been Master Gardener longer than I’ve been alive.”

“She doesn’t have an interest in poisonous plants. Do you?”

“I don’t specialize in them, but it once was a little more than a passing interest of mine. What do you have?”

Azriel’s scarred fingers dart into a pocket of his leathers I hadn’t noticed before and deftly produce a spring with leaves so dark they’re nearly black at their pointed tips and a delicate, plum-colored bloom reminiscent of the deadly nightshade Yasmin keeps at the back of her greenhouse.

“Ibylis belladonna,” she says softly, reaching out to pluck the stem from his fingers. “I’ve only seen its illustration in books since it only grows in Hybern. Apparently, in the right conditions, it can be quite invasive. I once heard a rumor they use the berries in faebane.”

Hybern? Azriel’s face is impassive as ever, a fortress I cannot hope to crack, so I turn my gaze to Yasmin. She’s enraptured by the sprig, which she promptly trims the ragged end of and dips in a white powder before popping it in a vase with some water. Is she really going to try to root such a plant?

“Didn’t you say it was invasive?” he asks, his deep voice like smooth velvet whispering against the floor. The shadows swirling around his hands slide along the workbench like curious snakes, wrapping around dead stems or fluttering beneath the cuttings, I even notice a few slipping between her order forms as though they’ve just found a lovely new place to hide. Almost as if they have a will of their own.

I wonder how often they get away from him.

I try not to think of Azriel corralling them like a mother hen tending her chicks, but the image won’t leave my mind. I press a hand over my lips to keep from giving into the urge to giggle, and I notice his gaze sliding to meet mine before he gives a casual wave of his hand, recalling the disobedient little shadows without saying a word.

“In the right conditions. I’m not planning on giving it the correct conditions to thrive, just…grow a little. So I can study it. Come to the back with me, I have a book in my supply area that will give you all of the information I have on it.” She heads for the door, so focused on her new experiment it seems she’s almost forgotten me in the shuffle. Almost. When those moss green eyes dart back to meet mine, I can tell I’ve been dismissed. “Don’t you have someone to visit or a High Lord to find?”

“I can tell when I’m not wanted,” Laughing, I hold up my hands and take a step back towards the door. “You’re right, I have plenty to do.”

“Rhys stopped in at the library this morning,” Azriel says as he opens the door to the greenhouse. I start, not having noticed him move, and the corner of his mouth quirks into what might have been a hint of a smile. I can barely see the outline of a dimple in his cheek. “But he said he was coming to see you after.”

“Did he now?” I ask, carefully running a hand over the sapphire scarf draped over my head. He won’t be happy to see it, but I woke up with a throbbing headache and a need for the security these scarves grant me. I don’t know if I could handle a vision today and still be useful. I know suppressing my power is only a short-term solution, but until I figure out how to avoid my mother’s fate, I don’t want to give them up entirely. Would he be willing to help me find a solution if I asked? Of course, I already know the answer to that question without ever having to pose it. Rhys would do anything for his people. And for his friends? I believe he would rattle the stars themselves if he thought it was necessary.

If I’m nothing else, I’ve certainly become a friend.

“I expect he’ll be looking for me at the shop,” I muse. “I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“You have a little time. I believe he’s shelving books.”

“This early in the morning?”

“Some of those scholars never sleep.” Considering I’ve lost many a night to the pages of a good book, I can’t fault them for it. I slip from the shop with a wave to Yasmin’s retreating form and slip my hands into the pockets of my cloak as I wander towards the Rainbow, with its brightly colored shops and studios. A musician sits on a corner with her lyre, bundled against the morning chill as she sings in a language I can’t identify. Her blue hair flows like a river over her shoulders, shifting like waves in the breeze. When I drop a few gold coins in the open, empty case in front of her, her mother of pearl irises take on a new shine and she continues to play just a little louder, posed atop her rickety wooden stool like a mermaid atop a rock.

With the wind at my back, I round the corner and find the tucked away side street off the main thoroughfare that I haven’t walked down in months. Enzo’s building looks almost as I last saw it: its cheery, pastel blue facade seems to have received a new coat of paint to match the other, equally pastel shops on the lane, and the white door to the studio is propped open with a few potted plants. Taking a deep breath, I stroll through the entrance like a leaf blown in on the breeze, and find Enzo hammering away at the most beautiful sculpture I think I’ve ever seen.

Crafted entirely of marble, the female’s full figure is draped with an almost sheer, clinging gown that almost seems to be imbued with moonlight, it shines so brightly. In her hands is a carafe carved with ancient symbols I’ve only seen in history books, and from it tumble hundreds of small, pointed stars that sparkle in the light streaming in through the tall windows. The ancient, primordial goddess Nyx, pouring out the night.

The morning sun gilds Enzo’s head of dark, wavy hair, bringing out the golden highlights that never seem to fade and warms his perpetually sunkissed skin. The sleeves of his loose linen shirt have been rolled up to his elbows, baring the powerful forearms centuries of chiseling marble have yielded. He’s always been lovely in a way that almost defies the gods, with high cheekbones and a perfectly sculpted jawline that even his well-maintained beard can’t hide. We’ve never been able to take him anywhere without males and females falling at his feet, not that he’s ever minded it much.

Just as I’m admiring the fine hoops and thin, gold chains that loop the piercings along the shell of his ears, the hammer and chisel in his callused hands are gently placed at a small work table to the side of the statue. Enzo stands and takes a moment for a long, feline stretch in the sun before he turns to look at me, his smile brightening the pale gold of his eyes as he takes me in.

“Well, well, well,” he purrs, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he sidles over to me, “if it isn’t my favorite little bear, crawling out of hibernation at last.”

I don’t have time to formulate a response before he sweeps me into a tight hug with a little spin that leaves me giggling breathlessly as his comforting cedar and sage scent wraps around me.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a hermit,” I mumble into the fibers of his shirt.

“It’s alright, love, winter tends to have that effect on all grumpy, little bears.”

“I’m not grumpy,” I huff, smoothing a hand over my scarf as I pull away to ensure it wasn’t knocked askew. “At least, I wasn’t before I walked in here.”

“Yes, what brought you to my door on such a fine morning?” he asks, nudging the plants holding the door open out of the way so he can shut and lock it before ushering me up the rickety spiral staircase to his apartment on the upper level.

“Isn’t missing you enough of a reason?” I ask lightly, rubbing my arms as he unlocks the door, granting us entry to the sitting room. I immediately flop into the plush, dark green armchair near the fireplace and tug the blanket thrown over the back down to cover my arms and lap. Enzo’s apartment is always drafty in the cooler months, thanks to the rickety old windows he refuses to replace or enchant to prevent cold air from leaking in. He says the cold is inspiring but frankly, I can’t see how freezing would lend to many inspirational thoughts.

“It would be, sweet creature, if I thought it were true. A little birdie tells me you spend most of your time with our handsome High Lord these days. I can’t imagine I’m worth tearing yourself away from all of that.”

“Excuse you, there is no tearing myself away from anyone. Rhys and I are friends-” Enzo’s crowing laugh briefly drowns me out, but I press on as he drapes himself across the sofa to my right, “and anyway, we all know your little birdie is Yasmin and she’s incredibly biased in my favor, so of course she’s going to exaggerate the situation.”

“A situation, is it?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows as I roll my eyes. “Go on, darling, I’m all ears.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I mean it, Enzo, we’re friends. Pretty good friends, actually, I think…”

“And?” he asks slowly. I shrug, unsure what else there is to say, and Enzo scoffs, rolling his golden eyes. “That’s it? That’s all I get? After months?”

“There’s not much to tell! We go to dinner, sometimes he helps out at the shop, that's all there is.”

The flat, almost deadpan expression on his face has me biting my lip to suppress the giggle trying to bubble out of me. I forgot what a gossip he is.

“He might have asked me to accompany him to Adriata,” I mutter, picking at a loose thread on the blanket as Enzo pushes up into a seated position, his curiosity piqued. When I finally glance up from the lost cause that is the tattered, patchwork quilt made of velvets and silks, I find his golden eyes trained on me, a long finger tapping thoughtfully against his lower lip. “What?”

“What’s in Adriata?”

“I don’t know, another High Lord he wants to talk about establishing trade with? Sunshine, heat? He spent fifty years underground, just to come back to this,” I gesture towards the slowly thawing city beyond the window, “maybe he just needs a bit of warmth.”

“So you’re going there to…?”

“Keep him company? Enjoy myself?”

“Be a pretty distraction?”

“That’s a bold assumption. I wouldn’t be much of a distraction anyway, Enzo, he’d be better off taking you or Yas for that.”

“Oh, I think he finds you very distracting. And who could blame him?” The pensive look on Enzo’s face fades to a sly grin as he shrugs off whatever weight had ever-so-briefly settled on his shoulders. “If Roz is to be believed-”

“Roz,” I huff, shaking my head. “So you’re coming close enough to talk to Roz, but you haven’t stopped in at the shop to say hello to me?”

“For your information, I see her at the Palaces every now and then. We like to get tea and catch up when our paths cross. She’s always liked me, little bear, moreso now that I…” his voice catches as he gives an absent tug at his shirt before pressing on, “I’m open to trying again. With someone new.”

“You’re courting again?” I gasp, wriggling in my chair. Enzo rolls his eyes, casually gesturing for me to continue. “That’s wonderful news! Who, when-”

“Well, don’t get too excited, I’ve only just started. It’s time, I think. Nasir has been gone…a long time. He’d say I’ve waited too long. Perhaps I’m too old and particular now-”

“Hush, you are not.”

“Well, I have to try anyway, don’t I?” He laughs wryly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Do you have anyone particular in mind, or…?”

“Whoever comes along. I’ve never had a type, well, not physically anyway. Nasir was the strong, silent type, and while I do enjoy all that comes with that,” my mind drifts to the mysterious shadowsinger that had trailed Yasmin into her greenhouse, “I think I need something brighter, someone brighter. Happier. I could use a laugh.”

“What’s going on? Anything you want to talk about?”

“Just feeling my age, pet.”

“You’re in your prime.” It’s my turn to tease and I make a great show of it, giving him the most exasperated shake of my head I can muster while he laughs, resting his head against the back of the couch. “You’re handsome and talented and wonderful, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“You think?” he asks, his eyebrows twitching upward though his eyes are pinned to the ceiling.

“I do.” My words, softly spoken, must find an easy target within his heart. He nods a little, crossing his arms over his chest, and it’s then that I finally notice the fresh ink on the bare skin of his forearm: an oil lamp swinging from a beaded chain, much like those hanging in my library to guard against the chill and the dark. A light glows within it, metallic gold shining through openings in the black lantern’s design to cast light on the delicate petals of the forget-me-nots already encircling his wrist. I barely feel the tug at my mind before the meaning drifts in, much as it does when I read my cards: illuminating what came before while lighting the way for something new.

A way to honor the past without being shackled by it.

“It’s going to be okay, Enzo.” Though I keep my voice gentle, there’s a weight in it that I cannot deny. They spill from me like river water, a sure sign of a foretelling, so I make no effort to stem the tide. It’s like there’s a presence at my back, a hand guiding the flow of these words into this world in spite of my best attempts to suppress the gift. “Life is for the living. You cannot hope to enjoy the fullness of living while keeping one foot in the grave. Chaining yourself to the dead is no way to honor the bond you lost, but forging a new one is. It will allow you to exercise the depth of the love you felt and, perhaps one day, surpass it. Everything that is worthwhile takes time, but all can change with the fall of a single grain of sand.”

In a blink, the presence is gone and I sag back into my chair. The length of cloth that had once been securely tied around my head falls to the floor, and my hair cascades over the back of the chair after it. Just like that, whatever remains of my headache from this morning dissipates like early spring fog. My eyelids sag and flutter closed, and I don’t know how long I sit like that. Long enough for my heartbeat to match the everpresent ticking of the clock. My mind grows sluggish as I sink further into the chair, heavy beneath a powerful, overwhelming weight, like a barred door holding fast against a storm. Eventually a warm, callused hand slips into mine and a warm burst of energy surges through my body, forcing me to pull air deeply into my lungs as I sit bolt upright, my eyes wild as I take in my surroundings.

Enzo kneels at my side, his nimble fingers rubbing out knots in my hand I did not know existed as his hawkish eyes study my face.

“Welcome back,” he says smoothly, resting my hand against the arm of the chair. “How do you feel?”

“A little better.” I look at my hand as I flex it, and I note the pale, rose gold haze of Dawn hanging in the air around it like early morning mist. “What was that?”

“A little boost, nothing that will have any lasting effect. Your heartbeat was a little slow for my liking. Is it always like that after such a…display?”

“You’re the first person to call it that, but no. Not normally.”

“It was unnerving. Do people really pay you to do that for them?”

“Like I said, it’s not usually expressed in such an odd manner.” His incredulous grimace pulls an ugly sort of laugh from my chest that’s more akin to the honk of a goose than any noise a faerie should make, and it isn’t long until Enzo’s own warm chuckles join mine. “But more strange things have been happening than usual, if I’m honest. I don’t know what to make of them.”

“Strange how?” Enzo asks, reclaiming his seat on the couch. His expression is so open and trusting that I want to tell him everything, from the strange vision I had the day Rhys returned to the strange card and feather I found in my kitchen. I pick at the rough edge of one of my nails as I study him, weighing my options before I ask a question that I know, within the depths of my heart, I already possess the answer to. Still, something tells me to ask it all the same.

“Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

His brow furrows as he nods, and I briefly entertain the idea of asking him to make a bargain with me, but it’s Enzo. Enzo, who has only ever been a loving, patient friend, a listening ear to whoever finds themselves in need of one. Something light sparks within me and I’m flooded with a preternatural sense of certainty that whatever is said here will be kept in confidence.

That makes it much easier for me to spill my heart to him, so I do. I tell him every strange occurrence, both good and bad since the High Lord’s return. Enzo sits with his hands folded in his lap, saying nothing as he takes it all in. Once I finish, he taps his hands on his legs the way a musician might beat a drum before he stands, wanders into the kitchen, and I hear the telltale sound of a bottle being uncorked.

“Wine?” Enzo calls, and I twist in my chair to catch a glimpse of him pouring a sizable amount of dark red wine into a large, stemmed glass.

“This early in the morning, Enzo? Really?”

“After everything you’ve just told me? Yes, this early in the morning.” When he wanders back into the sitting area, there’s only one glass in his hand. Enzo gives me one long look after he sits, then takes a long sip from his glass before pressing on. “Let me see if I have all of this right. Our High Lord returns after fifty long years trapped under Amarantha, and you have a vision of someone we can now surmise to be his mate marrying someone else in an act you believe averted some sort of war. He comes to you for a reading and then, from the sounds of it, never really leaves. And while your delightful new, hmm…friendship is blossoming or growing roots or whatever lovely, flowery description Yasmin might use for this situation, you’re having increasingly more concerning visions-”

“I wouldn’t call them increasingly concerning.”

“Well, I certainly do. Between the creature carving bones in your dreams, accusing you of stealing someone else’s life - absolutely garbage, by the way - and the strange, new card appearing in your home, there’s something reaching out for you. Why now, after all of these years you’ve been left in peace? The one big change in your life is him, and if his choice to pursue you is what attuned these creatures to you…we have to wonder why, don’t we?”

“First of all, he’s not pursuing me.” Enzo snorts into his wine at that and I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “Rhys has a lot to deal with right now, I don’t think he has the time or energy for a proper courtship, which this isn’t.”

“Public visits to your shop that last for hours, private dinners with chaperones, private visits to your cottage at all hours of the day-”

“One late night visit after waking from a nightmare.”

“He has friends and family in this city he could turn to for comfort if he needs it.”

“Yes, and I’m one of them.”

“You’re stubborn as a mole,” he mutters, drinking deeply from his glass, “and twice as blind.”

“That’s rude.”

“It’s true, and it’s not my fault you refuse to see what’s right in front of you. Everyone else can see it, I don’t know why you refuse to.”

“Because I don’t know what to do!” I rise and stalk to a window to open it, needing the airflow in a room that’s suddenly become unbearably stuffy. I stand and stare out at the quiet street until I can no longer feel my blood heating from all of the pent-up irritation. “Nothing about a vision is set in stone, Enzo, and sometimes a dream is only a dream. The future is always subject to change. I caught a glimpse of a potentiality, nothing more, but I…I don’t want to ruin it. What if I already have?”

“Oh, little bear,” Enzo sighs, “nothing was ever ruined from wanting it too much.”

“What if it puts too much pressure on an already delicate situation?”

“This isn't something you're trying to force.”

“What if I’m not what he really wants?” The confession falls from my lips as little more than a whisper, but once it’s given form the rest of my ugly, repressed anxieties come tumbling out after it. “What if he’s spending time with me now because I’m safe and unobtrusive, but once he’s ready for something more serious…”

“Our High Lord doesn’t strike me as a particularly foolish or dishonorable male.” Enzo’s voice is closer than before, and I turn to find him just behind me, his gaze fixed on the street below as he drains the rest of his glass. “And he would be, if he treated you as you described. I may not know him, but I should think it impossible not to love you, at least a little, after spending any length of time in your presence. You’re an island of peace in tempestuous seas, little bear, don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise. Not even yourself.”

“Right now, I feel anything but peaceful,” I mutter, wiping at the traitorous tears collecting in the corners of my eyes all the same. Now that the pressure in my head has eased and I feel more myself, I’m able to appreciate the simple beauty of the dappled sunlight on the cobblestone street and the comforting presence of an old friend at my back. “Thank you though, for everything. I’m sorry I haven’t been around as I should have, I have no excuse but that it was a strange winter.”

“So it seems. Don’t worry, you’re forgiven. Now come look at this statue with me and tell me what needs to be changed before the High Lord arrives.”

“What?”

“Who do you think commissioned it? He said he’d be here sometime this morning, that’s why my door was open.”

“Mother’s sake, Enzo,” I mutter, digging my elbow into his ribs. “I should go, I’m sure my hair’s an absolute disaster now-”

“Oh, I don’t know, I like it like this. All fluffy and disheveled, like you’ve just rolled out of bed-”

“You’re an ass.” He laughs as I stalk past him, snatching my scarf from the floor on the way to the door. He trails after me on the way back to the statue, closer at my heels than my own shadow. Not two minutes after I’ve begun to circle the sculpture, there’s a quick rap at the door. Enzo abandons his empty wine glass on a table to answer it, and I peer with wide eyes over Nyx’s titled carafe as Rhys walks into the room.

Even amidst all that sunlight, he cuts an imposing figure in leathers I’ve never seen him wear before. Dark as night and twice as foreboding, the material clings to his body in a way anyone with a pulse can appreciate. His boot-clad feet barely make a sound on the rough-hewn floor of the studio, but the smile he greets Enzo with is an easy one. I fight the urge to hide when those blue-violet eyes finally flick my way, instead stepping out of the shadows as he utters my name on a breath, surprise coloring the word.

“I needed an expert opinion on the sculpture’s accuracy,” my friend says to the High Lord with a jovial grin, “I hope you don’t mind sharing her for a moment.”

I can’t tell if he’s talking about me or the statue. From the amused grin on Rhysand’s lips, I don’t think he can either.

“Not at all,” he says with a slow shake of his head. An errant lock of dark, silky hair tumbles over his forehead, and I clench my scarf in my fists to keep from brushing it back for him. “Take your time, lady, ensuring she is to your satisfaction.”

“I don’t think my satisfaction is what we should be worrying about,” I muse, turning back to the sculpture at hand. I take my time tracing her figure with my eyes, admiring the way Enzo has managed to create the illusion of sheer fabric over supple skin with only marble, a chisel, and his undeniable talent. Her hair, sculpted to flutter in an invisible breeze, artfully frames her round face, and the smile on her lips speaks only of peace. Truly, she looks precisely as described in the few texts I’ve read on her. “But she is lovely. I think she will make a wonderful addition to the new garden.”

“She is to be the centerpiece. But I agree, she is lovely,” Rhys says lightly, brushing his hands over his leathers as though to wipe away dust.

“There is work to do with the base,” Enzo chimes in, shooing me towards the door with all the subtlety of a raging wyvern. “I’ll finish it today and begin work on the complimentary piece for the entrance.”

“You won’t mind if I borrow your mythology expert, will you?” Rhys asks. His hand against my back is a warm, welcome weight, but I fight the urge to lean into it.

“Oh, no, I think we’re done here.” Enzo doesn’t spare either of us a backwards glance as he returns to his sculpture, plucking his chisel and hammer from where he abandoned it earlier. I allow Rhys to steer me from the studio out into the streets. The crisp morning air brings the scent of fresh pine down from the mountains and I take a deep breath of it as we meander towards the open square, side-by-side but not quite touching.

“I didn’t realize you were shelving books in fighting leathers now. Is it a new requirement in the library?” I ask, glancing once more at the armor, dark and weathered with age, stretching across his chest. He shakes his head with a low laugh and angles his body away from the bustling Rainbow, in the direction of his townhouse. I follow his lead, draping my wrinkled scarf over my arm.

“No, it’s not a requirement, but it may be necessary for something I have to do today. Well, something we have to do today, if you’re willing to accompany me.”

“And that is…?”

“Pay someone a visit.”

“Someone you think you need armor to see?” I ask, arching a brow. “And you want to take me to see them.”

“The armor is a precaution. I’d rather not get there and realize later it would have come in handy.”

“That does seem like it would be an unpleasant surprise.”

“It certainly would be.” He pauses then on the corner of the street, briefly taking my hand in his as he finally meets my eyes. “You will be perfectly safe, I promise. I will never put you in a situation I cannot get you out of.”

“I believe you,” I murmur, squeezing his hand. “So, where are we going?”

He makes a point then to take a deep, even breath, his eyes darting to the patch of blue sky overhead before he looks back at me. Perhaps a month ago, I wouldn’t have noted the anxiety lingering in the depths of his eyes, but I see it now and step closer as his hand clenches around my own. The smile he offers me is strained and I find myself clenching my free hand to keep from running it along his jaw, as though my touch alone could disperse whatever troubles weigh so heavily on him this early in the morning.

“To see the Bone Carver, if you’re ready for it.”

#heart of velaris #rhysand x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader

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thekims4 · 2 years ago

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hyperiondickrider · 1 year ago

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Baby Bunny~

(Chapter 4)

Vox x Reader; Valentino x Reader; Alastor x Reader; maybe Lucifer x Reader

After your untimely death, Mr Vox was kind enough to take you in and give you a job as his assistant. However, it appears that you’ve caught the eyes of few other demons, who are certainly not afraid of a little competition…

“Hey, Val, can we talk real quick?”

“Hm? Voxy, baby, what’s the problem~?” Vox jogged up to Val, trying to catch him on the way to his studios, a long day of work ahead the two of them. He hands Valentino a coffee he got for him, from that nice place on brimstone avenue, and Valentino takes a long sip from it, releasing a pleased groan at the scalding fluid.

“It’s about my assistant, Y/N.”

“Your cute little conejita? Whatever is the matter, hm?”

Vox wasn’t quite sure how to phrase his question. “Well, it’s just that- Y’know, it’s almost spring and-“

“Voxy, baby, I love you, but get to the fucking point.” Valentino’s patience was thin, on a good day.

“Yeah, well, I need you to stop winding her up. The poor bunny can barely function with her, uhm, season, approaching, let alone with you feelin her up all the goddamn time.”

Valentino let a low chuckle at this, taking a long drag of his scarlet smoke, throwing his now empty coffee cup into the nearest bin, before gracefully draping his long arms onto his hips.

“But she’s so fucking fun to wind up, baby. Besides, it only January, i still got at least a month before it starts just being mean. I swear, one of these days, Voxy, if you’re not careful, I’m gonna snatch up that bebé bonita and make her mine~”

Vox let out a low growl at this, his screen glitching as his eye twitched with annoyance. If he knew Valentino well enough (which he probably did), it was unlikely he’d make such an obvious move. Key word - unlikely. Valentino was unpredictable; if he had a genuine interest, Satan knows the lengths he will go to.

“Fine. Just at least promise me, next time you make a mess of the poor girl, you’ll at least finish the fucking job so I don’t have to clean up your mess.”

“Oh, I think we both know I will~” Valentino’s grin sharpened, almost salivating at the thought of of having you sprawled out under him, face red and puffy, ears teary, your swollen lips covered in drool-

Well, that’s a thought for when he has the time to scheme.

~meanwhile~

It was 7:30 am when your alarm went off. You woke uo with a jolt, your body still exhausted despite your mind being wide awake, legs heavy like lead, thighs and pussy sore. With a groan, you dragged yoirself out of Vox’s comfy bed, the mattress almost willing you to stay in bed all day, despite the no doubt mountains of work you had to do.

Throwing on a blouse and a navy pencil skirt with matching heels, you gave your hair a quick brush, quickly looking yourself over in the mirror.

‘Looking good, bunny!’ You gave yourself a cheeky grin, being your own hype man in light if the empty apartment around you. Checking the time once again, you sighed lightly, grabbing your laptop and blazer, you set off towards work, thinking of treating yourself to a nice hot cocoa from the cute cafe on brimstone avenue on the way to work.

You really did like your job. Sure, it was exhausting, but the work was rewarding; you got help coordinate schedules, review scripts, fill out paperwork, and of course, you got to hang out with Vox! Your boss really was the best, he always made sure you were busy; he knew how much you loved feeling useful.

Entering the building, humming a merry tune you had heard on the radio earlier, you greeted the receptionist.

“Good morning, Annie! Have you had a good morning so far?”

“Why, good morning to you to, Y/N! You seem in an awful good mood today, my dear!”

You grinned at the woman, leaning against her desk with glittering eyes.

“I’m just happy to be at work today, Annie.”

“I truly don’t think i’ve ever met a young person who quite likes their job like you do, love.”

The two of you shared a giggle, as she showed you some pictures of her new grandchildren. Annie was such a sweet lady; one of your favourite coworkers, in fact. She always had somethjng nice to say, and a warm smile and anecdote to welcome you with.

A sharp, british accent cut through the usual bustle of the floor.

“God, where is that girl? I’m down a model and i need someone with some fucking class for lucifer’s sake!” The confident voice of Velvette rang through the floor, employees cowering at her commanding presence, hiding as she scoured the floor.

“Ah! There you are, my darlin’!”

Your back straightened significantly, tugging at your skirt as Velvette’s eyes lit up as she spotted and approached at a brisk pace.

“H-hello, Ms Velvette! C-can i help you in a-any way?”

She brushed off your now nervous demeanour, hastily looking you up and down before grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you towards the elevator.

“Yes, yes my darlin’, Vox told me you’d be here. Listen, babe, I’m down a model for a loungewear photoshoot i’ve planned to do today, and i need you in my department, okay love? You just gotta stand there and look pretty, which you are already doin’ a fantastic job at.”

Her flattery causes your cheeks to darken, as you limply allow her to drag you into the elevator, up a floor, and into one of her studios. Well, there goes all the work you had planned for the day.

Truth be told, you did quite like Velvette; she made easy conversation and could be quite the smooth talker despite her inclination towards bluntness. She also designed the cutest clothes, which was a bonus. Overall, she was fun to work for. Unless she deemed you incompetent. Then, life fucking sucked.

The first outfit she forced you into was a silky pajama set, relatively baggy on you, revealing your collar bones as she directed you into posing for, the photos capturing your timid aura. The second outfit were Vees branded tracksuits; each designed to mimic tbe style and colour scheme if each Vee. A black and read one with skulls and hearts; Velvette. A blue and red one with wiring details; Vox. Pink and lilac with feathers and hearts; Valentino. She once again had you pose for each one, captiring the details of the fashion whilst simultaneously capturing your contrasting delicate beauty. Finally, she gave you a second pajama set, this time shorts and a button up, completely complimenting your leporine appearence, producing absolutely adorable promotional material. Well, if Velvette was pleased, it was all worth it.

“Wonderful my darlin’, thank you so much for your cooperation, love.” She kissed both your cheeks affectionately, sending you off the change back into your work clothing.

However, on the way to the changing rooms, you were stopped by the familiar sound of a staticky voice.

“Velvette? Are you done with my assistant yet? I got a shit ton of work and all my other employees are apparently fuckin useless-”

Vox froze when he saw you; all vulnerable in a silky pajama set covered in strawberries. A smirk grew across his face, and you grimaced in embarassment.

“Velvette, my dear, great taste as always. Now, if you don’t mind, me and my assistant have some work to get back to.” Vox spoke, commanding the room, as his gaze never for a second left your own.

A/N: Sorry the update took so long I am very busy lol.

Btw the reason Y/N is so nervous around authority figures and strangers is to do w her backstory :) her sudden personality changes are intentional

Tags: @enby-rising @whocaresimnothere @christineblood @sirenetheblogger @vash-yuu

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox #alastor x reader #vox x reader #valentino x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #smut #baby bunny #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader

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trofysisters · 10 months ago

Text

Катя. Часть 2

Вечером на Сашку нахлынули нежные чувства. Он чувствовал себя влюбленным юнцом рядом со своей обожаемой женой. (In the evening, tender feelings washed over Sasha. He felt like a young man in love next to his adored wife)

Но романтический ужин был омрачен наглым туристом, который украл у Кати ее еду. (But the romantic dinner was overshadowed by an impudent tourist who stole Katya's food)

Пришлось сотрудникам ресторана развлечь супругов горским приветствием, экскурсией на сплав бревен и рассказом о секретном месте в горах, где обитает йети. Но так напугали рассказом супругов, что те поспешили в отель. (The restaurant staff had to entertain the couple with a mountain greeting, an excursion to rafting logs, and a story about a secret place in the mountains where the Yeti lives. But they frightened the couple so much that they rushed to the hotel)

На следующее утро путешественники отправились в недавно открытый заповедник. (The next morning, the travelers set off for the newly discovered reserve)

Пусть воды горного озера были холодны, но Катя с Кариной не могли не искупаться. (Even though the waters of the mountain lake were cold, Katya and Karina swam)

На опушке туристы могли почувствовать себя настоящими суровыми лесорубами, постучав по пеньку топором. Жаль, снимок у Кати не получился. (At the edge of the forest, tourists could feel like real tough lumberjacks by knocking on a stump with an axe. It's a pity Katya didn't get the picture)

Зато они смогли увидеть диких животных в их естественной среде обитания. Встреча с медведем не планировалась, но случилась, когда туристы поехали на экскурсию изучать местных птиц. (But they were able to see wild animals in their natural habitat. The meeting with the bear was not planned, but it happened when tourists went on an excursion to study local birds)

Напоследок Катя набрала с собой лесных ягод. Правда Карина заволновалась, не ядовитые ли они. (Finally, Katya took some wild berries with her. But Karina became worried whether they were poisonous)

Впечатлений было слишком много, поэтому остаток отпуска Катя с Сашкой провели в спа-комплексе отеля, плавая в бассейне и нежась в горячем источнике. (There were too many impressions, so Katya and Sasha spent the rest of their vacation in the hotel spa complex, swimming in the pool and basking in the hot spring)

Возвратились путешественники отдохнувшими, полными сил и стремлений. (The travelers returned rested, full of strength and aspirations)

А через некоторое время из университета вернулась Карина, и первым делом поспешила к своему возлюбленному Давиду. (And after some time, Karina returned from the university, and first of all she hurried to her beloved David)

Но прежде чем создавать свою семью, девушка хотела стать самодостаточной. Она была готова начать кулинарную карьеру, как папа, или идти за своей мечтой - достичь вершины музыкальной карьеры. Ей повезло, в студию звукозаписи требовался ассистент. (But before starting her own family, the girl wanted to become self-sufficient. She was ready to start a culinary career like her dad, or follow her dream of reaching the top of her music career. She was lucky; an assistant was needed for the recording studio)

Для нового жизненно��о этапа требовался новый имидж, и Карина отправилась в магазин одежды. (For a new stage of life, a new image was required, and Karina went to a clothing store)

Она мечтала в новом платье пойти на свидание с любимым, но откуда не возьмись перед ней появился Ксан Ксаныч, зазывно шевеля усами и протягивая к ней ручку. (She dreamed of going on a date with her beloved in a new dress, but out of nowhere Ksan Ksanych appeared in front of her, invitingly moving his mustache and holding out his hand to her)

Пришлось спешно, насколько позволяли каблуки, покинуть магазин. Но дома ее и так невеселое настроение подпортила мама с воспоминаниями о школьных оценках Карины. Определенно, нужно съезжать от родителей. (She had to leave the store as quickly as her heels allowed. But at home, her already gloomy mood was spoiled by her mother with memories of Karina’s school grades. She definitely needs to move out from her parents)

#sims 2 #devchata #katya #karina

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brandstifter-sys · 19 days ago

Text

Passion and Soul

@dukexietyweek 2025 Day 6 - Soulmate -or- Dance + Colors

Word Count: 2552 (Ao3)

Rating: T

Characters: Virgil, Ree

Warnings/Content: mtf!Remus, sex mention, murder mention, sensuality

Teaching dance can really grate on Virgil's nerves, especially when soulmate issues and romance are involved. But when a new student shows up for solo lesson, he can't find it in himself to be too annoyed with her flirting.

---

Virgil was never happy to have to deal with people. Unfortunately, his job revolved around exactly that. Teaching dance classes was not exactly his ideal career, but he had the skills and bills to pay.

It was always so annoying to teach a room full of people, half of whom did not want to be there. There were so many husbands who were appeasing their wives, brides and grooms looking to impress, and idiots foolishly hoping to find their soulmates. The fantasy of romance got in the way of actually learning how to move without getting hurt or looking stupid.

As he rifled through his appointment book at the front of the studio, Virgil scoffed at the faded green mark stretching down his arm where his soulmate would touch him for the first time. No one else could see it, but it was still irksome to have to see it for himself.

He truly loathed the idea. Soulmates were just the universe’s way of being a complete bastard. It meant horrible people could lay claim to innocent people, that dating was never serious (though flings were common), that anyone who didn't have a mark had to pretend. And there was no guarantee that anyone would do more than brush against their soulmate in a crowd, never to see them again.

It was as much of a waste of time as solo lessons. Virgil read the name in his appointment book and sighed. “Reina C. Tango.” She was probably just another woman who wanted to get too personal with a young, fit man while she kept searching for “the one,” or making up for “the one” being absolute garbage.

Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He just needed to get through this one lesson before he could go home and spend some quality time with Jill, his right hand, the one without the stupid mark.

Ding

Virgil glanced up as the door opened. The woman who walked in was far from the usual solo client. She was definitely under 30, with long, wavy, dark hair, save for a streak of gray in the front. He recognized her as one of his neighbors, the one living across from him. That wasn’t an issue since he never talked to his neighbors, she probably wouldn't recognize him. No, he was only mildly concerned that she was wearing a tight green dress with a flowy skirt and heels. It was best for beginners to wear comfortable workout clothes so they could see how their body had to move.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” she giggled and skipped up to the counter, “I have an appointment!”

“Reina?” he asked and looked at her face rather than her bold outfit that accentuated her plush curves. She had hypnotic hazel eyes and an impish smile.

“That's me!” she beamed, “And what do I get to call a hunk like you?”

“Virgil,” he said flatly and stepped out from behind the counter. Reina’s eyes went wide as she drank in the sights. Virgil was all too used to being eyed like a piece of meat, with the tight black pants and even tighter black t-shirt, he couldn't hide most of his physique.

“If you brought a change of clothes, there's a room in the back you can use,” he said before she started drooling all over the floor.

“Change?” she parroted before snapping out of her trance, “Oh! I didn't bring a change of clothes!”

“Alright, but you might want to consider it next time,” he shrugged and led the way to the main dance floor. Reina followed with a spring in her step.

“Now this is a kinky place for a murder!” she giggled as she looked around the room. Virgil should have been more concerned, but he couldn't argue with her—there were mirrors lining two walls and on the ceiling, and the only raised surface was a stool holding a speaker.

“If you don't mind cleaning up all the blood and glass in the middle of the night, maybe,” Virgil said and faced her. She was vibrating with excitement.

“And if I don't mind, would you be interested in renting this place out?” she jeered and shimmied.

“I'd rather not have cops flooding my studio, thanks,” he pouted. She had the nerve to giggle at him as he pulled out his phone to pick some music.

“So,” he said as he found a good song for beginners, “Have you ever tangoed before or is this your first time?”

“It's my first time not leading,” Reina beamed, “I used to be pretty good at that part, but I want to be ready for my brother's wedding. I have the basics down!”

Virgil paused and stared at her for a moment. Why would a woman like her know the typical male part and not the typical female part? He wasn't judging, there were a number of reasons why, but she had a lot of energy and personality, it would be a shame if she didn't get a chance to show off her flamboyance.

“He found his soulmate?” Virgil asked and played the music, mainly so he wouldn't ask her anything too personal.

“Nope! He and his fiance don't have marks, they're aroace but they want a tax break,” Reina shrugged, “And a big party. And I have to dance with him at least once.”

“So you either want to upstage him or you just don't want to embarrass him,” Virgil said.

“Both!” Reina giggled, “So can I show you what I already know before the lesson?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said and carefully wrapped his left arm around her back to guide her into position.

Reina went rigid and stared at him with tears welling up in her eyes.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” Virgil gasped and tried to step back and give her some space. Reina held his arm in place with one hand and grabbed his free hand with the other.

“I’m okay, you just surprised me,” she said and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, leaning towards him and balancing her weight on her right foot, “Let’s see what you can teach me!”

“Tell me if you need me to stop or slow down at any point,” he responded before carefully stepping forward with his left foot. To his surprise, she moved her right foot at the same time and pace as him.

“You can go faster,” she teased as he walked her back two more steps. He brought his right foot back and turned, having her follow him without any issue.

“You said you had experience leading,” Virgil commented, “How much experience?”

“Regional champion, three years in a row,” she giggled adorably, “But that was years ago, before I had some medical things.”

“Medical things,” he mused and led her sideways across the studio, “Don't take this the wrong way, but are you talking about transitioning?”

“Are you saying I look like a guy?” she pouted, never faltering in her steps.

“No, you don't look like a guy. It's just that regional competitions are annoyingly strict when it comes to gender roles. If I'm wrong that's okay, and if I'm not, you're safe and your secret is safe with me.”

“Since you don't recognize me,” she pouted and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, “Why don't you show me your skills?”

To make her point even clearer, she lifted her left leg and dragged it down his side. Virgil immediately grabbed her thigh at the knee as soon as she started trembling.

“Tell me if you need to stop or slow down,” he said with a far too serious gaze. That hard glare was electric, enough to make Reina’s heart race.

“And what if I don't?” she jeered, smiling impishly. That smile fell from her lips when Virgil twisted his hips and dipped her so she was level with the ground.

“Then I'll quit while I'm ahead,” he said firmly. He was so close that she could smell his breath, a delightful wintermint that sharply contrasted the heat spilling from his lips.

“I’ll behave,” she breathed, absolutely entranced by him. Virgil could see it in her eyes, she was getting the wrong idea, but he was hesitant to correct her. He preferred men, but something about this woman made him consider the possibility.

He swiftly righted them, pulling her to his chest, mainly for balance, but he wouldn't deny that he enjoyed the flustered shock on her face.

“I get the feeling you won't,” he teased with a wry smirk. All her shock melted into a challenging grin.

“How am I supposed to behave when my dance partner is teasing me?” she jeered and cupped his cheek with her right hand.

He took that hand and locked their fingers, pulling it back into position away from their bodies. His brow furrowed slightly and his gaze hardened seriously.

Reina was thrilled when he picked up the pace, taking bolder steps, closer to her legs. They moved across the floor in quick bursts, cut by sharp stops that Reina used to wrap herself around him, flowing like a blade of grass in the wind.

No matter how far she leaned away from him, Virgil leaned towards her, keeping an eye out for any discomfort or struggle. Reina was far from uncomfortable, seductively arching and curling around his frame. She was keeping pace with ease, taking patterned steps that kept her hips swaying as Virgil led her through more complicated patterns that a beginner could never handle.

The studio lights illuminated her dark curls, showing off the red hues hidden in the brown. She was glowing, in her element, and her eyes were sparkling cesspools of radioactive sludge—a gorgeous portrait of chaos. Virgil was so drawn to her, and he was reluctant to fight it.

Then, with a sharp twist of the hips, Reina stuck her left leg out behind her, far enough that she had to bend her other knee. Virgil knew exactly what she was hoping for with this move, and he was set to deliver.

As soon as that left leg lifted off the ground he bent down at the waist. Reina swung her leg up and onto his shoulder, quickly bracing herself on both shoulders with her hands, letting her right leg dangle between them. Virgil immediately grabbed her waist to support her, keeping his eyes on her face. This was more advanced than he was used to teaching, but he could enjoy flexing his skills every so often.

Reina was beaming as he spun her around once. She was a chubby lady, and it took a lot of core strength to hold her up like this. Virgil wasn't straining himself, even when he carefully guided her back down, slowly letting her right foot touch the floor while her left leg slid down his arm. He shifted back to his previous position, holding her hand with the other arm around her back.

“Oh, you are good,” Reina purred as he turned, spinning her on one foot.

“And you don't need me to teach you,” Virgil hummed and let go of her hand for a moment so she could lower her leg, wrapping it around his hip.

“I could still use a partner,” she hummed and leaned into his chest, “Especially one as strong and handsome as you!”

“You can find better,” he responded and dipped her again so he wouldn't get too flustered, “Someone who won't play tricks like this.”

“Maybe I can't,” she giggled as he righted her. She brought her leg down and twisted so her back was pressed against him and his arm was across her waist. They locked their other hands and ghosted across the floor in long, lingering strides.

“What makes you say that?” he mumbled in her ear, his low voice sending chills up her spine. At the same time, Virgil’s heart was hammering against his ribs, all because she was in his arms, so close he could smell the ocean breeze shampoo she used. He didn't want to let her go, even though he knew he had to.

Instead of answering him, Reina let go of his right hand and spun away from him, holding his left hand until she twisted and spun with swift, bold steps, circling him sensually. She paused behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, slowly dragging herself down his back before snapping away and twirling around him to see his face.

That's when Virgil finally got a look at his left arm. The green mark was glowing on its own. Reina was his soulmate.

Reina wrapped her arms around his shoulders and giggled at his slack jaw.

“Still think I could find better?” she teased and fluttered her lashes. He was so cute when he was stunned!

Virgil pulled her flush against him and stared down at her smiling face.

“Is this why you were crying earlier?”

“Yeah. I never thought you of all people would be my match—you beat me in the state championship three years in a row as kids,” Reina explained and caressed his cheek while she wrapped her left leg around his hip.

“You had a mustache, didn't you?” Virgil asked, wracking his brain for any details he could remember. Reina rubbing his hip and butt was making thinking difficult.

“That's right!” she sang and nuzzled his chest, “I made it look hot!”

“You did. But I think you look better now,” he muttered.

“Aw, you're in luck if you aren't a sausage guy! I look better without clothes!”

Virgil snorted and shook his head. This kind of flirting got people banned from his studio, but he didn't mind when Reina got suggestive with him, at least with no one else around.

“I think you'd look best in your favorite pajama pants and one of my old t-shirts, cozy and comfortable, completely at ease,” he replied and gently guided her hands from his cheek so that he could brush his lips against her knuckles.

Reina squeaked and tried to hide her blushing face in his chest. She was too cute.

“Did you drive here?” he asked.

“I took the bus.”

“If you're not busy, did you want to get some takeout and watch a movie at my place?” he asked, and then panicked, “—It’s right across from your apartment, I'm not trying to lure you into anything dangerous and I'm not a stalker, I swear—”

Reina laughed and hugged him tighter, dropping her leg.

“My soulmate is a sexy dancer and the mystery horror movie fan in 13A!” she cheered, “And he's thoughtful and sweet and funny! The only way this could get better is if you decide to spend the rest of the day shirtless!”

“What?!” Virgil yelped and stumbled back, dragging her with him.

“Skin contact!” she giggled and booped his nose, “And I'll show you my mark if you do that for me! It looks like a big bruise! But it's not nearly as cool as your radioactive arm!”

“Let me lock up and I'll consider it,” Virgil said, certain that he would oblige that request when they were in the safety of his apartment.

“Don't keep me waiting, Virgil,” she purred and released him from her hold. He wouldn't leave her waiting long.

#dukexietyweek2025 #dukexiety #sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #mtf!remus #sex ment tw #sensuality mention tw #murder mention tw #sandyscribed

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werezmastarbucks · 1 month ago

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the boy and the man

april june masterlist 9/18

word count: 2536

warnings: yoongi is damon coded i give up

i hit you and you hit me back we fall to the floor; the rest of the day stands still

Jungkook sometimes just didn't fucking understand. Sometimes he was just that way, he didn't get it. Working things out with him was impossible nine times out of ten, that's why, even before, you actually went to Yoongi oppa to resolve your problems. Jungkook couldn't decide, he refused to do it. The wedding venue was your choice, and the honeymoon destination was your choice; he made you choose your own engagement ring because he wasn't sure he'd buy the right one. Jungkook didn't have that confidence in himself to actually hear you when you said: I don't care. When you do it, it's always good enough for me.

You always ran to Yoongi to complain and ask for advice, in fact, from day one. When you just started dating, you were tuning to each other, and his older brother was a fine mediator between you. You saw him personally coach your boyfriend on how to court you.

"Yoongi hyung showed me this", Jungkook said two years ago. He grabbed you by the waist, flipped you around himself, and, a twist later, you were in his arms princess style.

"Said he's not athletic enough, but I could do it", he added with a wide grin. From day one, Yoongi was delegating to him.

You decided to dig into yourself and made a list with things you associated with them. With a pencil, on paper. After you were done, you tore it into pieces and threw away, but before, it said:

Jungkook:

summer, home, pizza, warm, took me to Brooklyn, fear, happy, TV, boyish, bed, two of us, three pillows, vows, safe, I am never worried when I am with him, heels, forever

Yoongi:

spring, botanic garden, floating on water, wounds, i need him because i am choking, studio, that time when i saw the ships, throat, koi fish, love, ice cream cone, husband, music, farming, smiling, my friend

It wasn't a pros and cons list, just words that scattered out of you. Some of them terrified you, but mainly, you realized, that they were your two eyes: one, perfect, beautiful and compliant. And the other: hooded, keeping you cursing, working, for hours.

Yoongi knew his place. He knew the moments he had with you were on lease. Flowers, dates, waking up together, seeing the world together, marrying, chatting in the kitchen at night, falling asleep to a movie; having you on his lap while he was writing music, with other people in the room - it was all Jungkook's. He was reduced to sex and he gave it to you as best as he could. There was nothing else he could do, for every time you came to him for conversation, no matter what you said, he was reminded that he was an appendix. Whatever you, or he, wanted. Those were the circumstances. If he allowed himself to want more, he would snap and ruin it.

Extrapolating his presence, he was also the protector. Protecting you from the sadness Jungkook sometimes gave you, with his breezy overzealous persona, and from writing blocks. Protecting the boy, because Yoongi still had maknae's sixteenth birthday picture, somewhere. It's like someone assigned him to defend, and he had no idea whose decision it was, and sometimes wanted to object it. But there was nobody else, it seemed. Namjoon was the diplomatic leader, keeping up the image. Hoseok was the strict dance coach, depressed the whole time when he wasn't at the studio. Tae was the wild card, too soft inside. The others... Yoongi was the guard dog with rabid saliva dripping from his fangs. Once he started getting into it, ruining his own reputation turned out to be easy, and also... quite fun at times?

He tilted his head to his shoulder to see the screen better. He was sitting, his feet crossed, on the floor, waiting for the manager. News were turned down to a barely audible minimum as he was thinking. A beat almost formed in his head, he could feel his working worms in the brain labouring, labouring and giving birth to a sound. He stood and stretched his back to step away into the sound room, but was cut short by Jungkook and Taehuyng the twins, who barged inside. End of silence with these two. He braced himself with his old man shaky sigh, but thankfully, Jungkook collected himself and didn't jump on him like a five year old.

"Yoongi, you shouldn't have done it!" he cried. Tae looked like he just witnessed a public execution.

"They want your head", he added cautiously. Yoongi said,

"I know, Bang called me. He'll be here in an hour, so you better fuck off before that".

Jungkook's hand flew up and rubbed his neck violently.

"Yoongi hyung".

"You asked me not to call you a baby?" Yoongi reminded him softly, "Don't act like one".

Jungkook bowed his head slightly.

"Thank you".

"It's nothing".

Tae's eyes grew bigger.

"Porn on Insta is nothing? They will gut you".

"They can't gut me", he replied, "they have tried before. Don't worry about it. What's The Boss gonna do? Kick me out of the band?" his smirk went straight into his eyes.

Bang had tried that several years ago. He said, you're out of BTS. An hour later, CEO had six resignation letters in his mail. They were all ready to kiss their apartments goodbye.

There was nothing to be angry about. Dispatch was out for blood this year. Scandals, one on top of another. They hovered above them like bats, sniffing for the faintest scent of shit. When Taehyung and Hyori and Jungkook with Y/N went on a regular Friday double date, they took a picture of Jungkook kissing you on the mouth outside of the restaurant. A contract has been broken, for one. Yoongi posted a selfie of himself on his long-abandoned profile, with porn on the screen of his laptop on the background. The kissing picture drowned into obscurity. Usually one didn't cancel out the other, but he was good at timing. By the time the wave turned, their PR was already banging on the doors of Dispatch, axes in hands. Yoongi was the sacrifice.

"Don't you get tired of it?" Tae asked him, his arm around Yoongi's shoulder. "Always being the scapegoat?"

"I get tired of my maknae line", he responded, lopsided grin pulling his lips, "all the time".

He hadn't seen you in weeks which happened from time to time, when you were considering things.

Yoongi didn't force himself upon you, just existed on the curb, waiting for your call. Sometimes he'd reach out to ask how you've been and listen to you whining about Jungkook's behavior. He craved to hold you, his desires going from the usual, to, gradually, the minimum: he just wished to hold you to himself for six seconds, isn't that little? You gave him a bad habit of wanting to touch you again and again, now, that he knew how good it was.

However, he knew his place. Jungkook, surprisingly, showed him. You were scared he was 'dying' which prompted late night calls from the bathroom when you cried into the phone. Yoongi knew Jungkook wasn't dying. He wasn't shot or stabbed. He was growing.

Yoongi hadn't noticed when the line got completely crossed. But maknae walked up to him in April and said,

"Don't call her at night. She can't fall asleep after".

Yoongi then watched his broad back with a sense of admiration before anything else, unable to hold back a chortle. The boy turned into a man. And he drew the limits in red. It was finally turning into something Yoongi could tolerate with a smile.

Why did he keep sharing you, though, - that's what hyung couldn't understand. It couldn't just be that guilty feeling.

You moved your hand across your belly to feel the fabric of the dress. Makeup felt heavy on your eyelids, you tried to blink it away. During occasions like this, you held onto one or several of the boys usually, if you could not directly approach Jungkook and be with him, due to paparazzi presence, for example. But now you had Hyori to keep you company. You held your heads together and discussed your husbands from a distance, complaining about the absurdity. At events where you couldn't hold his hand, you'd prefer to not be present at all. Staying at home and doing stuff seemed much more productive. But sometimes Jungkook wanted you for the short, seven minute break when he could hold you. And then off for the rest of the evening. He and Tae had Mr Lee watching over you two to avoid advances and unwanted attention, but there was yet another trick: Mr Lee couldn't be seen together with you, either.

"What is happening with my earring?" Hyori asked, and you put your champagne glass on the table to look. Your fingers grabbed the golden lock creafully.

"Your hair got in between", you clicked it open and untangled it, then pushed it into Hyori's ear. Somebody lightly tapped you on your shoulder, and your eyes darted to the side, searching for Mr Lee. He was leaving the room, closing the chain after Namjoon. It was the time for the photo op, and he had to make sure the cameramen wouldn't bite the boys on the faces.

The man standing next to you made Hyori acquire her hostile face; maybe she knew him. You had no idea who he was. Hyori's hand wanted to reach for you protectively. You caught the air of worry around her. She was looking out for you. But the man had no problem inserting himself between you two, and her concerned face was soon obscured by his shoulder. She wasn't the type of person to rudely shake someone off. You were. But you weren't alarmed just yet.

"Excuse me, my name is Park Taesik. I have a question for you".

You searched him with your eyes and noted the phone in his hand, upside down.

"Dispatch?" you guessed. He looked incredibly smug. He looked like someone who's never been told to shove his phone into his ass, someone who wasn't afraid of hurting young girls. His little eyes with blue-colored lenses bored into you with the expression of superiority. To him, you were meat.

"Who has a bigger dick, Jungkook or Suga?"

You chuckled, more out of unexpected nature of this question. Hyori was trying to cirlce him with panic on her face.

"How am I to know?" you responded, feeling the anger rise in you.

"Well, you are the prostitute they are both using, right? They like exotic girls?"

"Excuse me!" Hyori tapped his shoulder in shrill voice. Park Taesik pushed you against the table, cutting your way out with his body. You didn't want to risk drawing attention to yourself, otherwise your fist would be flying into his face right away.

"Who told you they like girls? As far as I am concerned, Suga posted gay porn on Instagram a week ago", you purred. Park Taesik couldn't grab onto that straw. People have been shipping Jungkook with every member of Bangtan and their mother for the last fourteen years.

"Will you fuck off? Or will you go on staring at me, old pig?" you demanded. Park Taesik continued to smile.

"You will be old in no time with the amount of cum you take on a daily basis", he nodded courtly, and with that, bowed politely and stepped away.

What you didn't notice from the very beginning was Bang's cowardly nature. He cut off Yoongi for his Instagram shenanigans. He banned him from today's photo op to calm down the masses who didn't want to see his face. So, the cerberus stayed in the room, having his quiet fun, happy that he was spared. You caught his eye from across space, in between people's bodies. He was looking with his eyelids half-drawn. Then followed the Dispatch correspondent with his gaze and started to move.

Yoongi saw this whole evening as a blessing. No pictures, no forced smiling, no questions. He got to drink alone and look at you from afar. It was especially amusing because you didn't see him, blending in with the crowd of waiters in their black uniforms. His natural caveman pull instructed him to follow the round head. He had seen him before and even remembered the last name: Park. Made a piece on him just last week. Immoral, out of control, renegade Suga jerking off to gay porn in his studio. Basically he was Yoongi's employee. Now he didn't know what exactly the man had told you, and he didn't care. It couldn't be anything good. He looked at you as you recovered your champagne glass from the table, your frame elegant, fragile in the tight satin dress, but movements, bandit-like as ever. Like an Ulsan doll. Like a driad he would come across if he ventured into the garden of heaven, that would swing a bat at him. You threw back your head, opening up your neck, cloud-pink diamond flickering around your throat. Gookie's present for Christmas. Then you caught his eye, and he felt soft. Then, hard again, his body feeling happy. His feet carried him after Park.

As he was closing in, he couldn't still believe today's luck: the heavens must finally have sorted out their papers and found his name under 'martyrs'. Park took on the left to the bathrooms, and Yoongi followed. He already knew there wouldn't be anybody there, because it was his night, and because everybody was busy on the red carpet. And all the abandoned girlfriends and wives, killing time in the ball room, didn't go to the mens restroom.

He entered the toilet after Park and watched him turn his head towards the sound of his step. Watched his eyes light up in greedy, bloodthirsty expression. But Yoongi's thirst was stronger tonight. As he crashed his fist on his nose. The blood splattered up and onto his black shirt. Invisible. Park collapsed with one blow, but Agust D wasn't finished yet. His hand grabbed the reporter's collar and lifted his body up.

"Do you want an interview?" he murmured, feeling his face pull to the sides with a smile.

"How are you going to take it without teeth?"

He threw his fist forwards, three more times, crushing Park's jaws. They would do nothing to him. Nothing, for a Dispatch reporter. Nobody could hurt Yoongi more than Yoongi.

You pushed the door and ran inside the toilet, knowing that the picture you're seeing came straight from a music video. Yoongi was finished. He let go of Park, determined and relaxed like a reaper, and equally black. His right fist was bloody. With his clean hand, he pushed his hair off his face and looked at you shortly, then stepped to the sink and turned the water on.

You exhaled through your mouth and managed to glance at the bloody mess in the floor. Yoongi was looking at himself in the mirror, checking for more blood.

"How are we going to explain this?" you asked.

He pursed his lips together and shrugged. Then took off his jacket and stepped to you. He put his jacket around you and with calm hands, the right fist still red from hitting, buttoned it up.

Yoongi wrapped his arms around you and held you to himself, for seven seconds. If someone asked him about a perfect evening, he'd tell about this one.

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi imagine #jungkook imagine

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disneytva · 1 year ago

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Variety Interviews Ayo Davis, Meredith Roberts And Emily Hart On Disney Television Animation's 40th Anniversary And What To Expect On From The Past, Present And Future

40 years ago, Disney TVA was founded on the heels of challenging outcomes with features “The Fox and the Hound” and “The Black Cauldron.”

Initially, Disney TVA was restricted from using established Disney legacy characters, but nevertheless had huge successes with new shows like “The Wuzzles” and “Adventures of the Gummi Bears,” both of which became popular in syndication. As time went on, DTVA was able to use its limited rights to create shows like “DuckTales” and “TaleSpin,” which featured Disney characters. Today, the slate has evolved to include shows that travel across Disney’s streaming, linear and digital platforms, including Disney+, Disney Channel, Disney Junior and the Disney Parks

Over the 40 years of the studio has collaborated with Walt Disney Imagineering to bring beloved Disney Afternoon characters to the parks as well Mickey And Minnie's Runaway Railway and AquaMouse for the Disney Wish and Disney Treasure cruises from the Disney Cruise & Ships Line as well collaborating with Disney Yellow Two Shoes Team to redesing some heritage characters for the WDW Passholder Magnets.

Disney TVA characters also have gone to the realm of live action. In 2019 Disney Channel brought Kim Possible to the live action world as a Disney Channel Original Movie in 2019. In Spring 2022, Walt Disney Studios brought Chip 'n Dale: Rescue Rangers to a new generation of fans trought a meta-driven live action/animated hybrid film which won an Primetime Emmy Award for Best Feature Film.

In April 2024, it was announced that Kiara from The Lion King II: Simba's Pride created at Disney TVA will make her live action debut on the motion capture/computer animated film "Mufasa The Lion King" with the character being voiced by Blue Ivy Carter. In Fall 2023, it was announced that Blumhouse Television and Atomic Monster where developing a live action reboot of Gargoyles for Disney+.

The future of the studio looks bright as the studio is slated to debut it's 100th show overall "StuGo" in 2025, as well new interations of beloved classics like The Proud Family, Phineas And Ferb, Sofia The First and Darkwing Duck trought revivals,reboots and spin-offs in the coming years with early talks of new interations of TaleSpin, Kim Possible and Recess since Early 2023.

“We have a wildly diverse development slate because we don’t have a house style,” says Meredith Roberts, executive vice president, television animation, Disney Branded Television and CEO of Disney Television Animation “Our styles are creator-driven, so that allows for real support of the artist or creator to fulfill his or her vision. Anything is possible, whether it's CGI. (“Monsters at Work”), hand-drawn 2D (“Big City Greens”,"Primos","Hailey's On It!"), rig-based 2D (“Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur”,"Kiff") and stop-motion (“Mickey Saves Christmas”,"Rhona Who Lives By The River".). Roberts continues, “We really try and solve all the problems and develop it. We look at the scripts and the story arcs. Every project has to have a strategy behind it that will complement the slate and separate it from other things. Each project has a distinct swim lane to attract an audience. And we’ve learned to meet the kids where they are, in terms of streaming and YouTube.”

Co-viewing, the viewership that happens when adults sit down to watch a DTVA show with the kids in their lives, is part of the studio’s secret sauce and long-term strategy. Many of the shows are written with jokes and plot points for both audiences so both groups will return.

“We double down on the kids and family space,” says Roberts. “We’re not just dipping a toe in the water. We’re diving in. I think we’ve seen a lot of churn with the competition, who just don’t have the patience to develop and are for this audience, which is a very specialized kid audience and co-view audience.” ("The Witchverse", "Rhona Who Lives By The River","InterCats","Fantasy Sports") Roberts reflects: “I think one of the things I’m most proud of is how stable Disney TVA has been for the last 40 years despite a lot of outside churn of the animation industry. Many of our crews feel that Disney is their forever home. I think the excitement they have to illustrate and create with this brand has been terrific because it’s harder to be funny and clean. And nowhere are we tearing down people to get that laugh. I think that’s the beauty of a Disney animated show.”

DTVA also sought to meet kids where they are by making their audience — which is made up of the most diverse generation in history — feel seen, with series such as “Elena of Avalor,” which featured Disney’s first Latina princess, and “The Proud Family,” franchise focused on the life of a teenage Black girl.

“We do have an amazing insights team that are constantly in the field, giving us general information about how kids are watching content, what they’re into,” Emily Hart (VP of Current and Development - Disney Junior) says. “Some of those things are evolving, as we know the ways kids consume content is changing. But there are some universal truths about kids, and it’s great to have that reinforced. Kids still like a lot of the same things that we like. So, there’s a combination that we’re always tracking with every new idea, and we do pilot testing. We get to sit down and talk about the content, and we invite our creators in so they can see the kids talking about it because they’re the audience and they’re the truest test of if the story is going to work.”

Ayo Davis, president of the Disney Branded Television and VP of Current and Development at Disney Television Animation says the division is a “driving force” for memorable kids and family entertainment.

“All of us at Disney Branded Television are so proud of the studio’s 40-year legacy as it continues to entertain future generations with shows like ‘Kiff,’ ‘Big City Greens’ and ‘Mickey Mouse Clubhouse 2.0" --- Davis says.

Those creators who come to DTVA often stay for a long time, partnering with the studio on a variety of different projects or expanding on a hit and reimagining it for the next generation of viewers. “The Proud Family” was a standout in 2001 on Disney Channel. Creator and executive producer Bruce W. Smith is now working on the Emmy-winning “The Proud Family: Louder and Prouder,” which is based on the original series. The show follows Penny Proud as she navigates family life and her own childhood.

“Being at Disney TVA has allowed me to realize all my artistic dreams,” says Bruce W. Smith. “As a kid, you always have hopes, thoughts, dreams, ideas and characters that can help lay out those ideas in your head. Disney has allowed me to really tap into my creative instinct, at the end of the day, you have to learn how to trust yourself. Meredith Roberts has been a true shepherd for me in all of this, allowing me to stretch my wings. Because of her belief in me and my ideas, she’s really allowed me to blossom as an artist. All that happened at DTVA.”

“They really seem to be a place that welcomes your ideas,” Dan Povenmire says of Disney TVA. “They want to find people with real strong ideas of the stories they want to tell, and then they let them tell those stories for the most part. They seem to put storytelling and characters over anything. With [‘Phineas and Ferb’], we would write jokes for the kids and the adults in the room because we knew the adults would be there too. We were just careful not to do any double entendres.”

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coffeeangelinabox · 3 months ago

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Febuwhump Day #4: Hivemind

tw: non consensual nudity, beating

Second in Command keeps his feet under him as he is forcibly marched down the corridor. He’s quite definitely being dragged, not allowed to walk himself, and it’s in his mind to use that as his resistance, to make his body limp deadweight. But, he knows, with so many of them, it won’t even slow them down, will encourage them to hurt him and frankly, naked as he is, he’d rather be out of a public corridor as soon as possible.

He still baulks when they get to the door at the end of the corridor. Heavy, corrugated iron, several thick locks, unpleasant stains and watermarks, and when it creaks slowly open, the room beyond is entirely black rubber, but for the drain at the centre. There are various restraint apparatus and a surgeon’s tray of tools, some shiny and sharp and others rusted and pre-stained. There’s a cabinet on one wall, and Second can just guess what kind of things are in there.

He stops, digging his heels into the concrete.

“Very nice,” his voice is raspy, breathless, but not shaking. He makes it as snooty as he can. “We appear to have arrived at the set of a poorly funded pornography studio. Will you be wearing stilettos and a bustier? That is what I paid for.”

They ignore him and shove him forward. Second resists with all his might, but there are ten of them and only one of him and his head is still spinning and ringing.

He finds himself on his hands and knees on the rubber flooring and stagger-leaps to his feet, hands up in a boxing stance. He will not just quietly submit to whatever Whumper has planned, not in this room with only his own skin to worry about.

Whumper closes the door, locks it with a heavy clunk of finality and then simply leans against it, watching with his cold eyes. Second can’t watch him for more than a few seconds though, at some command Second neither sees nor hears the guards fan out around him. He backs up, knowing he’s getting deeper into the room, but at least preventing them from coming up behind him.

It’s not like in the movies. They don’t politely wait and take their turns, instead four charge him at once. He fights back, a flurry of kicks and blows, ducking and weaving. He pulls off an impressive round-house kick that turns into a drop-roll that belies the injuries he’s already taken. He grins like something feral, teeth flecked with blood as he springs back to a fighting stance.

It doesn’t matter. Everywhere he is, there’s another one of them. They never seem to get in each other’s way. Either they’re phenomenally coordinated, train together at least once a day, or…

Once, before all this happened and the world went to shit, when he was one of an elite unit, but nominally part of the army regulars, they had been sent out to San Francisco to trial some experimental arcanium. He had never trusted crystalmancy, and had been firmly opposed to having an enchanted crystal materialised inside his brain. However, their’s was not to question why and so on, so he’d gone: he, Team Leader, Teammate Three and Medic, at Leader’s insistence, to monitor them and ensure there weren’t any ill effects.

To his eternal relief, the damnable thing hadn’t been manifested inside him. That, apparently, was a difficult and time consuming procedure that they didn't have time for. Instead, their crystals, pulsing with the power the crystalmancers had filled them with in various strobing colours, had been attached to their foreheads by sticky straps that had felt like having a squid coiled around his head. They’d had to sleep in them, to harmonise them to their thought patterns or some such.

Then had come the trialling: mazes, puzzle solving, simple word association tasks. And they had been flawlessly in-sync. It had been hard to explain later in the reports because they were always flawlessly in-sync, they had worked together for years. He and Three had been raw recruits together, boys barely out of short trousers. This, however, had been something else. It was one thing to look at Three and know what he was thinking because he knew the man like a brother. It was another entirely to know what he was thinking on the other side of a locked door because he was part of that thought.

Despite the creeping, crawling itch in his mind, it had been fun at first. Even if Three had kept shoving him and loudly announcing that he should, “Stop thinking about that girl, Second. Jesus Christ, I never thought you’d get all lovestruck. Normally, you’re the love ‘em and leave ‘em type,” and making him blush in front of the Americans. Even if he had been half aware that Leader was frustrated with the stickiness of the thing around her head an in her hair, half afraid she’s going to have to shave off the flowing gold to a buzz cut to get rid of it, which was half funny because she’s not vain or girly at all, and half embarrassing, like watching her get undressed, because she’d never utter such a thought out loud. Even if, after hours - when they still had to wear the things to keep them tuned - Medic’s face began to look pinched and wan, and Second began to feel like she was far away, a virtual stranger in the happy little hum of companionship he was sharing with Leader and Three.

The military applications were incalculable. Split second decisions made with three sets of limbs. More, the crystalmancers assured them, it could be done for a whole squad. It just had to be one crystal, fragmented so that each had a part of the original whole. He’d been able to concentrate on his part of the mission, whilst watching Three’s back and simultaneously adapting to Leader’s new information as she was fed it in the control booth, without needing any kind of scry or crystalpulsers of their own. It had been uncomfortable, but hell, body armour was uncomfortable. He’d worn worse. Even the itch faded after that first day.

Then, they’d started losing time. The first he’d known of it was when he’d blinked at the edge of one of the pseudo missions they’d completed, already mentally comparing times with the data in Leader’s mind, and opened his eyes in the Mess Hall to find Medic talking about the fact that she kept picking up unusual auras from them and she thought the crystals might have side effects. A look at the others told him it was the same for them.

“We must have been debriefed,” Team Leader had said, pale and tense and then flushing, eyes hardening to cold stone, “And I have no idea what I might have said.”

“It could just be a side effect,” Three had suggested half heartedly.

“Or it could be that these have a secondary function as interrogation tools,” Leader had responded.

“Look around,” Medic had said quietly, and when they had followed her instruction, Second in Command had seen instantly what she wanted them to. Every other group of soldiers was eating silently, mechanically, but it was more than that. They were eating perfectly in time. Each taking a bite of potato with the same perfect precise move and then laying their cutlery to the side to pick up their water glasses. It was like watching a puppet ballet. Things not alive, controlled in perfect time, to an unheard beat. “I think the interrogation and logistic advantages are bonuses. I think the intention is to ensure a perfectly obedient fighting force.”

Second had been the first to try and rip the thing from his head. It hadn’t worked immediately and he’s a little blurry on some of the details after that though he’s read the after action reports. He knows he’s beyond grateful to Medic who had saved, perhaps not his life, but his soul, his self. And to Team Leader, who insisted on having one person there for them, not trialling the new arcanium, against the advice of their higher ups.

All this, Second remembers in a single instant. Then another of the guards strikes him across the jaw and he wavers, almost goes down, spinning to drive a fist into the ribs of the one behind him and to destroy the kneecap of another. Neither move quite comes off. They land perfectly, but the guards are wearing armour, magically enhanced, if the tingle in his fingers is anything to go by, and he has only his bare hands. His knuckles split and he snarls through the pain, dropping to his knees and spinning and landing another punch.

They surge in again, perfectly in time, in tune, and again Second thinks of looking around that Mess Hall. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle in the exact same way. Their movements aren’t fast like Whumpers, but unnatural nonetheless. It’s like fighting dolls and Second is suddenly certain that if he ripped away their helmets there would be nothing underneath, just a blank, smooth, featureless bulb in place of a head or face.

The one finally gets hands around his wrist and that’s it. The guard pulls him off balance and the others are already perfectly positioned, one to grab his remaining arm as it strikes out, another to catch his flailing legs.

Whumper speaks for the first time, “Just the chair today,” and he’s manhandled into an uncomfortable steel seat. It’s bitingly cold on his bare arse and he struggles all he can as his arms are fixed behind his back and to one of the slats, his knees pulled apart as bands are placed around each thigh and ankle. More of the strange, silent men are fixing the chair to the floor, meaning he can’t tip it, or lunge, still attached.

Whumper goes to the tray of instruments and inspects them. Second rolls his eyes, despite his fear and vulnerable position. It’s all so performative. This…this cult which infects every level of society, runs the British Isles.

They had cut communication with the wider world several months ago, but they intended, when there was last any unbiased news and such things as elections, to build the Second Great British Empire. Second assumes that by now, much of Europe has fallen. He hasn’t heard from his family in weeks. He knows what they say about the French habit of surrender, but he hopes they did so quickly, spared the rural countryside of his childhood from the vicious violent takeovers that had happened here. He wants to imagine it how it was, vineyards for miles and barely paved roads, toasted sugar from Madam Roux’s patisserie thick in the air. Possibly countries further afield had already fallen to the advance. Certainly no aid has been forthcoming.

But either way, Whumper has carried out many hundreds of interrogations. He doesn’t need to painstakingly choose his first tool.

“You find this boring?” Whumper asks solicitously as a host at a dinner party, and just as disinterested.

“Not my scene,” Second says, striving to match his tone. “Maybe I should take my leave. I’ll give your facility a good review. The henchmen were excellent, accommodations well within human right’s parametres.” He’s babbling. Performative, he might have been, but the scalpel Whumper is holding a little too close to his one still-open eye looks awfully sharp.

“Who are you working for?” Whumper says in his bored tone, flat gaze on Second’s.

“No one. Freelance.” He rotates his wrists inside the cuffs, but, though doll-like the guards may have been, they have also been brutally efficient. He’s not getting out of these. “You?”

Whumper looks back at him. “Supervillain. As are we all.”

“Oui, but who is he? He just appeared in power one day. He never appears on the telly, never speaks to his glorious subjects. He never even appeared on the stage when he had the old Monarchy guillotined, to the delight of the masses. You’re in the inner circle. What’s his name?”

Whumper ignores this torrent of words and does not answer, simply leaning down and cutting a burning line from the corner of Second’s lip along the contour of his jaw. “Your organisation?”

This time, Second ignores him. “Ah, you’re not in the inner circle at all. Just classe ouvrière, like the rest of us.”

Whumper turns back to his tray, and in his hand this time is a glass vial with a glowing worm the size of his thumb within.

Second gives up on bravado and roars, struggling in his bonds. He’s heard of those, knows exactly what it’s for. If he hadn’t wanted a mere crystal shard inside of him, there’s no way he intends to permit that.

The guards, as one, look at Whumper in question and then, still as one, back up a step, forming a solid rank behind him. Even if he could break his chains like Samson, there’s no way out now. Whumper holds the worm closer.

“Get the fuck away from me!” Second shouts, blood mixing with spit and frothing on his lips. Then he realises that screaming is not his best tactical option and clenches lips tight together like a toddler refusing broccoli.

Whumper looks not even the slightest bit perturbed. “Open your mouth,” he says in his calm, expressionless way, “Or I will have this inserted somewhere a great deal more unpleasant.”

Second’s eyes widen and his nostrils flare, but he doesn’t obey the command, stubbornness and pride willing to take the abuse instead of being complicit.

Then the door he was pushed through, minutes or was it weeks ago, creaks open and a voice he almost recognises says, “Whumper.” in cool, but unmistakable command.

Second cranes over his shoulder, but can’t turn far enough to see past the rank of blankly staring soldiers behind him.

Whumper straightens smoothly, and for a full second, Second thinks he’s been granted a reprieve by the presence. Then Whumper speaks to the men at his back. “Get it into him. I’ll return after my meeting.”

He steps past him. The soldiers step forward, perfect as a parade ground. Out of the corner of his eye Second a metallic glimmer. Chains of office. Supervillain. He strains his neck, turning to see exactly who-

Then one of the soldiers punches the breath from his body and he’s lost in choking, swirling darkness and pain.

#my writing #whump #writing prompt s #whump prompts #whump community #defiant whumpee #febuwhumpday4 #hivemind #febuwhump2025 #tw non consensual nudity #world building #my personal challenge this year is making this one continuous story #tw torture (non graphic)#magic universe

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