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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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not okay, m | jjk, myg

full title: I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, ft. jungkook

summary: Jeon Jungkook fucked up. He talked shit about emo girls. Min Yoongi decides he's going to make him take back what he said, make him beg and plead and cry to be touched by the sexiest woman he knows. Never mind that you were a goth in high school and not an emo.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship (Yoongi/you); definitely a scheme to seduce a clueless JK; threesome smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics, m-masturbation + daydreaming, edging / orgasm denial, inappropriate (but wanted) touching in public, a lot of begging, hair-pulling, scratching / marking, thigh-riding, handjob, choking, ball squeezing, restraints, cowgirl, nipple play, handcuff and anal vibrator usage, doggy, little bit of m-receiving oral, finger sucking); tbh Jungkook is a mess, is forced to make messes, and likes it; fluff; shifts from all three POVs; black-haired, sub!JK x noona, dom!reader x blue-haired, dom!Yoongi

yes, there are My Chemical Romance references, I'm aware MCR don't like being considered emo, we know labels =/= how someone truly is; yes, it's PTD (emo for a hot second) JK and Yoongi

"Is that what you think?"

Jeon Jungkook flicked the long black bangs over his left eye, laughing. "Yeah, these are just extensions. I thought it would be funny. I don't actually think this kind of style looks good on me."

A sharp click of the tongue. "No, the other part. About women."

Jungkook blinked, bewildered. Then he slowly remembered, recalling his words. "Oh... I just meant I wouldn't be attracted to a girl with a more emo, edgy style."

The deep voice was sharp and accusatory. "You said it was cringey."

"Ah... well... a little?"

Those pointed, cat-like eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Uh... hyung?"

Min Yoongi frowned and stood up.

"We will see about that, Jungkook."

Jungkook watched him go, even more confused than before.

"Why did that sound like a threat...?"

Because it was.

The next time they went out to eat together, Min Yoongi brought his girlfriend with him. She didn't often tag along. When his friends asked Yoongi about it, he just laughed.

"It's because you guys are too fucking loud."

The few times she did come with him, she was relatively quiet. She had an unapproachable air about her, intimidating in the way that a single eye shift and locked-on attention could cause heart palpitations. Everything about her image seemed far too sleek and refined for everyday life. Her gestures, her walk, her style. Minimalist outfits, mostly white and black. It was obvious that she had a nice body, but none of her clothes implied that she was advertising it, at least when she was hanging out with her boyfriend's friends.

There was one exception.

She always smelled delicious.

Noticeable, addictive, gourmand, always making you turn your head just to smell it again. A hint of ginger to startle, followed by the warmth of marshmallow and the earthly scent of green tea. It blended with her skin, turning warmer and muskier as the evening went on, making you wish that you could smell the bedsheets that laid against that sweet-smelling body later that night.

Very troubling for Yoongi's friends for his girlfriend to smell like pure sex and then gaze at them with such intensity when spoken to, startlingly similar to Yoongi himself.

"Hello, Jungkook. Surprising that you're the only one here."

Jeon Jungkook was so stunned that his brain seemed to cease all functions. He was completely frozen, eyes and mouth wide open, not believing the sight in front of him.

Yoongi?

His hyung was dressed normally. Black cardigan, white shirt, black jeans. His hair was light blue now, a cool-toned, steel azure. The color made his fair skin glow and his dark brown eyes stand out.

His girlfriend?

Her hair was loose and wild, partially covering the left side of her face. Dark eye makeup and dark crimson lips. Large, loose black shirt hanging off one shoulder, with a black leather choker and silver chain that clipped to the button placket of her shirt with a clasp. Her bra strap was obvious, meant to be seen, the delicate lace pattern molding around the top of the cup that was barely visible. The shirt was long enough to cover her ass, belted at the waist with a black leather belt adorned by a silver moon-shaped buckle. Sheer black stockings with seemingly intentional rips and sleek black velvet heels.

"Yoongi said you think emo girls are cringey," she chuckled, looking down at him, smirk on her plump, defined lips.

Jungkook sputtered, feeling his face burn. "N-No, noona, that's not what I meant, I–" He was attempting to restore brain function, but he was rapidly losing blood up top and it was gushing down below.

This had to be the hardest part of living.

"I had to remind him that I was a goth in high school, not an emo. They're slightly different."

She bent at the waist and adjusted the chair before sitting down next to him, giving Jungkook half a second to view her perky tits encased in black lace, her chest smelling so fucking good that he nearly passed out. He jerked his head away, glancing at Yoongi in sheer panic.

The older man gave him a completely blank expression.

Their previous conversation echoed in Jungkook’s head. We will see about that.

"The rest of them aren't coming today. I'm treating Jungkook," Yoongi was explaining.

His girlfriend tilted her head. "I thought you said Hoseok was coming."

"He was, but then something came up."

"Hmm..." She raised an eyebrow at Yoongi. He straightened his cardigan, noticing her discerning gaze, and raised one back.

It was only then that Jungkook realized they weren't sitting next to each other, but on either side of him, boxing him against the wall. Now Jungkook could smell Yoongi too, wearing a spicy, woodsy cologne that mixed with his skin to become warmer and more comforting, except right now it was scaring the shit out of him because he didn't understand why they weren't sitting next to each other.

"Ah..."

He simply pointed to the empty chair in front of him, unable to finish his sentence.

Yoongi looked over to see what he was pointing at. "Hm?"

"You're right, I should move it so the server has easier access to our table."

And she dragged the chair to the side.

"Very considerate of you, Jungkook."

She smiled at him and he swore the proximity was causing his sanity to crumble to dust. He saw her tuck her black purse behind her perky, round ass. It had a small pin on it of a devil reading a book titled, Guide to Eternal Torture.

A cutesy yet ominous image.

At this point, Jungkook realized he was staring at her ass and the raised hem of the shirtdress, revealing the fact that the stockings were thigh-highs. The black garter straps were straining against her juicy thighs as she adjusted her long legs under the table.

Fuck.

He bolted out of his seat, mumbling and stumbling past her, the alluring scent of her perfume enticing him as he squeezed past.

"B-Bathroom, be right back!"

You watched Jungkook run off, clamping his hands below his stomach, raising your eyebrows as he and his tight black jeans sprinted to the bathroom.

"Hm."

You turned back to your boyfriend who was looking at the menu like it was the most intriguing piece of art he had ever laid his eyes on. You stuck your tongue in your cheek and breathed out, waiting for him to continue. Yoongi didn't look up. You didn’t really expect him to. You waited out of politeness.

"How long am I torturing him for?" you finally asked.

"Until he takes back what he said about you," your boyfriend responded dryly.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I don't think it was directed at me specifically. Does he even know that this is what I usually dress like? Or why you always tell me to dress simpler when I come with you to eat with all of them?"

Those dark brown eyes flickered up.

Yoongi's perfect lips curved into a small smirk.

You rolled your eyes. "Of course, he doesn't."

He lowered the menu, raising his chin defiantly as he spoke. "My reason is still valid. You saw how Jungkook acted. He a mess around you."

"I don't ooze sex, Yoongi. You're exaggerating."

He cocked a brow. "I beg to differ. I would wager he's jacking off in the bathroom right now."

He drummed the table with his fingertips, challenging you to bet on it. You waved a hand, dismissing the challenge. Wasn't like you could miss that tent. You circumvented back to the matter at hand.

"Did Jungkook actually say that? About emo girls being cringey?"

Yoongi shrugged. "Something like that."

You frowned. "Really? With his eyebrow piercing and tattoos? And his black hoodie and jeans?"

Your boyfriend went back to the menu. "Projecting, I think you called it?"

Yes, Jungkook washed his hands before throwing himself into a stall and touching his dick.

He wasn't gross.

Would be really great if his dick had calmed down on his own, but her perfume lingered on Jungkook's hoodie sleeve, just the faintest trace on his left arm, and he pressed it against his nose, inhaling.

Fuck, why does she smell so good?

His right hand was undoing his pants, his eyes and fingers closing in, focusing on his throbbing erection fighting his underwear. Maybe if he just touched it on the outside, it would be fine...

Her face popped into his head, complete with the little quirk of her eyebrow.

Nope.

Jungkook shoved his hand into his boxer briefs and pushed them down, teeth biting his hoodie sleeve so he could smell her perfume as he stroked his cock, feeling somewhat dirty about it, but mostly violently horny. It wasn't like he could stop his brain. He couldn't go out there with a massive boner either, so he had to do what he had to do. It was only a few thoughts anyway, thinking about her thighs under the table and wondering how they would feel wrapped around him, wondering if she would let him rip those stockings off and bite those delicious legs, wondering if he could undo that belt and unwrap that body and press his nose against that sweet-smelling skin and taste it with his tongue, planting kisses over those beautiful breasts with her hand around his cock instead of his own, pumping him to her unforgiving pace, forcing him to moan into her skin, abusing his stiff length with her tight grip and expansive strokes, his hands gripping her soft thighs and his whines saturating the air, pleading, begging her to let him cum.

Would she edge me?

His hand abruptly stopped.

Jungkook used every ounce of willpower to avoid whimpering into his own sleeve.

His whole body was achingly tense, screaming at him to finish, but he refused, shoving his whole face into the thick fabric and breathing hard, clenching his jaw and his twitching cock, imagining her pretty face with a smug, sadistic smirk, those dark lips teasingly telling him he could finish inside her.

"What are you doing?"

The pale hand dance in the air, beckoning the waitress over.

"Ordering."

You tilted your head. "Jungkook isn't back yet. You should wait for him."

Yoongi shrugged. "I know what he likes." His gaze flickered to you. "Meat."

You narrowed your eyes. Yoongi gazed back, unfazed. You knew that look. You knew how to read between the lines. To everyone else, Yoongi was a 3D puzzle with a million pieces, but to you, he might as well have been a children's picture book.

The side of his lips quirked upward, so faint you would have missed it if you weren’t looking for it.

He did have very nice pictures in his book. You'll give him that.

You ticked your right eyebrow so subtly that no one caught it but him. He, too, knew that to look for. His smirk grew, pleased at your wordless communication.

You were dating a real troublemaker.

You smirked back as the waitress arrived at your table, apologizing for keeping you waiting. One look from both Yoongi and you, and she nearly dropped her notepad, fumbling with the pen, cheeks flushing pink.

Trouble did tend to find trouble.

Jungkook had determined he hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't actually orgasm in the bathroom stall thinking about Yoongi's girlfriend while smelling her remaining perfume on his clothes as the said couple sat in the restaurant, awaiting his return.

Well.

Now that he mentally described it like that, it did sound kind of fucked.

Crap.

He saw a blob of black in his peripheral vision and looked up to see Yoongi's girlfriend stride past him, fragrant-smelling hair drifting behind her, his head turning automatically to follow the sight, entranced by the movement of her hips and hair, only to find her glancing back at him, foxy smile dancing on those dark lips.

He swore she mouthed his name.

Maybe even said it?

Jungkook blinked and she was no longer looking in his direction, heading to the women’s bathroom and rolling up her sleeves, clearly going to wash her hands.

He was seeing things.

Yes.

Just horny and delusional.

"I ordered the beef plate for you. If you don't like it, we can order something else."

Jungkook looked down at the streaming, sizzling platter of seared beef and vegetables, feeling his stomach growl as he sat down.

"No, hyung, this is great. Thank you."

"Hm, that's good. You can start eating, I'm going to wash my hands."

Yoongi began to stand up, brushing off his pants. Jungkook jerked his head up, seeing the older male push his chair back, light blue hair falling over his forehead.

"Um, h-hyung?"

"Mmm?"

Those dark brown orbs flickered to him.

"Er..."

Yoongi tilted his head.

"Erm... why is noona here? I thought you said… you were just treating me to a meal...?"

Yoongi tilted his head the other way, slowly, unreadable expression in those cat-like eyes.

"I am. I'm paying today."

He raised his head and smiled. Jungkook tore his eyes away from Yoongi to see her weaving through the crowd to make her way back to the table, silver chain hanging from her black choker glittering in the overhead restaurant lights, exposed shoulder and collarbone a stark contrast to her all-black outfit, body shape so exquisite that it wasn't only Yoongi and Jungkook watching her walk. Many pairs of eyes followed her wake, some shy, some unabashed and brazen.

"Besides, she is a treat, isn't she?" Yoongi purred.

She had made eye contact with Jungkook and her lips curved into a small, amused smile.

Any response he had to Yoongi’s words died in his throat.

"Too bad you think that style is cringey, otherwise you might have had a shot, Jungkook."

You sat back down as Yoongi waltzed off, gesturing to his hands, leaving you with the Korean equivalent of Steve Rogers from 1943 to 2011, complete with what you presumed to be a very nice ass if the rest of Jeon Jungkook was anything to go by. Ah, well, you trusted genetics. Surely nature would have blessed Jungkook with a good booty. You looked over to him. He wasn’t moving.

Wasn’t even blinking.

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and Jungkook started, jumping in his seat, his wide brown orbs shakily shifting to you. You made eye contact and he quickly looked away, swallowing hard.

Come on, surely, it's not that serious.

Jungkook ran a hand through his short black hair and snuck a glance at you. Or, more specifically, your chest. Ah. Was that it?

"Something wrong?" you asked, picking up your chopsticks.

"N... No...?"

You had to smile. Jungkook didn't even sound like he believed himself. You pointed to your collarbone.

"Too much?"

His brown orbs shot up. Silence. You locked eyes with him, keeping him in place. You witnessed his inner struggle now, trying to decide between what he thought was the right answer and what his instincts were telling him.

"Aren't you... uncomfortable, noona?"

You chuckled, picking up a piece from your pork belly dish and blowing off the steam. "Me? Of course not. People stare at me all the time. Might as well dress how I want." You dabbed the extra oil off on the side of the plate and brought it to your lips. Your eyes flickered to the younger man. He was still watching you, his own lips parted, wispy black strands over his forehead, accenting his dark brows and the silver bar piercing on the right side. Poor guy. Jungkook really picked the wrong man to project to, the one whose girlfriend never grew out of her goth phase.

You brought the meat close to your mouth.

Let your tongue snake out for a millisecond between your open lips.

His eyeballs nearly fell out of his head.

This is too easy.

You placed the hot meat into your tongue and closed your lips around it, chewing slowly, maintaining eye contact.

Not speaking.

Yoongi was surely overreacting to something Jungkook probably didn't think too much about before saying it, but that was fine with you because Yoongi told you to cause some trouble. You liked causing trouble. That's how you got Yoongi. Trouble attracted trouble. Still, he had something planned. You could tell. Maybe even guess.

You smiled at Jungkook and he gulped so loudly you could hear it over the sizzling meat.

Otherwise you might have had a shot, Jungkook.

What did that mean?

Jungkook was having a mild panic attack throughout the entire meal, even when Yoongi suggested they get beers. His girlfriend was driving, so only he and his hyung drank as they ate. They barely talked. Jungkook’s brain was too busy trying to break down the meaning of the mysterious phrase, replaying Yoongi’s words over and over.

You might have had a shot.

A shot at what?

What, exactly?!

Jungkook snuck a glance at Yoongi’s girlfriend and she was looking back, cocking an eyebrow when they made eye contact. He flinched and peeked at Yoongi's expression. His hyung was chewing his beef slowly, staring into space.

Have had a shot.

Maybe Jungkook needed to do shots to be a normal human being at this point.

"You're pretty quiet today, Jungkook."

His dick twitched in his pants.

Jungkook threw one thigh over the other and mashed his dick between them.

"Ah... sorry..." he mumbled, fixated on his beer glass.

Yoongi rapped his forearm with the end of his chopsticks. "Look at people when you talk to them."

Jungkook swallowed and looked up at her. "S-Sorry, noona."

She tipped her head and frowned slightly. "Is there something wrong? Did I say something to make you upset?" She looked apologetic. "I'm sorry if my presence is ruining your time with your hyung."

He jerked his head to said hyung. Yoongi prodded at something in between his teeth with the end of his chopstick and gave Jungkook a confused look, as if to say, what are you looking at me for?

"Um... no," Jungkook finally said, shaking his head and turning back to her. "No, noona. I'm glad you're here. It's really nice to see you."

"You're barely looking at her."

His ears burned at Yoongi's dry remark.

She perked up, pointing to her collarbones. "Is this bothering you? It's too much, isn't it?" she chuckled, jingling the chain on the choker and making his dick jolt between his clasped, jean-covered thighs. "You really don't like this style, huh?"

Jungkook darted his eyes to Yoongi, who pointedly stared back, giving him zero context clues except for reminding him of what he said before the meal.

A shot.

“Uh, that isn’t it, noona. Ah, actually…”

Jungkook chewed on his lip nervously, focusing on her instead of Yoongi. She turned her body, giving her full attention to him. He couldn’t tell if that was better or worse. The guilt ate away at him. Minutes passed by. So many, in fact, that it was getting awkward. His neck was on fire, his ears were red-hot, he was pretty sure his cheeks were flushed, and not from alcohol, yet he still he couldn’t say shit to those dark eyes and crimson lips, trapped by the gaze of the woman in black, feeling like he just booked himself a room in the Hotel Bella Muerte.

“Are you okay, Jungkook?” she asked, shadows of an amused open-mouthed smirk on those lips.

Was he?

“Er, yeah… I’m okay,” he croaked, coughing to clear his throat.

Yoongi snorted.

Jungkook shook his head quickly, letting out a small growl of frustration. “Actually, no, noona, I’m not okay.” He rubbed his forehead and exhaled hard, biting his lip as he faced her questioning expression. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said the style you’re wearing is cringey, because it’s not. It’s really not. You look amazing. You always have, but you look extra cool and sexy today and I feel really bad saying something like that because I should have thought about how other people could look and pull off that style, but I didn’t, I was only thinking about how stupid I looked when I was fifteen and I assumed–”

Her hand shot out and she pressed two fingers to his lips, silencing him.

“Shh,” she hummed, fully smirking now. “You assumed and thus you got yourself in trouble, didn’t you?”

She’s touching me!

Jungkook jerked his eyes to Yoongi, who was nibbling on his last piece of steak and ignoring Jungkook’s panic. He added a bit of the sauce and popped the meat in his mouth, chewing slowly. It was like she and Jungkook weren’t talking at all or, rather, Yoongi wasn’t concerning himself with it.

Her fingers slid down, pressing into Jungkook’s lower lip.

He very nearly made a noise, quickly darting his gaze back to Yoongi’s girlfriend.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

Why was she saying his name like that? Like… like she was sexing it with her tongue or something? Oh, shit, he was going crazy. He had to be. It was all in his head. She must be saying his name normally. Had to be. Yoongi’s girlfriend? Flirting with him? No, no, absolutely not. And certainly not in front of Yoongi. Even if his hyung was pretending to be deaf, he was definitely not deaf. Yoongi was the kind of guy who would smack a stranger looking at his woman funny.

This?

It was all in his head.

Her fingertips slid to the side of his lips, tracing the shape.

R… Right?

“You think I look extra cool and sexy today?” she mused, licking her lips.

Jungkook could smell her perfume off her wrist. Sweet, musky, seductive. His thighs were so tightly clasped together that Jungkook was pretty sure his dick was pointing straight down with how erect it was at the moment.

“Ah… w-well… a b-bit…?”

Clink!

Jungkook yelped as cold water flew into his lap, immediately spreading his legs as the glass tumbled onto the tabletop. Yoongi swiftly stopped it, sighing exaggeratedly.

“Ah, my bad, that was quite clumsy of me…”

“Shit, Jungkook, are you okay?”

Her fingertips left his lip and he could finally breathe, only to squeak sharply as hands planted firmly onto his thighs and crotch, bunched-up napkins dabbing the excess water away, quickly soaking it up with the paper.

“You should be more careful Yoongi, sheesh…”

“Sorry, Jungkook, here, take these.”

Jungkook vaguely registered Yoongi saying her name apologetically as well, but at the moment he was not okay, very not okay, he promised this was the most not okay he had ever been in his entire life as Yoongi’s girlfriend mopped up water from his inner thighs and crotch, molding her hands around his dick, yes, his actual straining hard-on was being touched by her hands and it was getting harder by the fucking second, her hurriedly wiping the water off, acting like this was completely normal and not like his cock was trying to rip out of his pants.

“Ack, noona, w-wait…!”

He tried to sit up and Yoongi’s hand came down on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Good idea, get under his ass just in case.”

Jungkook nearly blacked out as her napkin-covered hands slid under him and cupped the inside of his legs and bottom half of his ass, patting around. Her palms cupped his balls for a hot second.

He was fucked.

Utterly fucked.

Jungkook whimpered in his throat.

Her hands immediately stopped.

She looked up at him, very serious. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Jungkook shook his head from side to side so quickly that his vision blurred. “Yes.”

She shared a glance with Yoongi. The older man sighed and stood up, squeezing his shoulder as he leaned down to Jungkook’s ear.

“You want her to keep touching you or not?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, jerking his head to Yoongi. Those dark brown orbs looked back at him, demanding the truth.

“I didn’t spill that water for nothing.”

It was only then that it dawned onto Jungkook.

This was a set up. He was being set up. His hyung had set him up.

This whole fucking thing was a set up.

We will see about that, Jungkook.

She was cleaning his seat off and gently tapped his thigh. “It’s dry now. I think you’re okay.”

Jungkook decided that he really did not care about being set up. He did not give a single shit that he fell for it wholly and completely like a gullible idiot. He whipped his head back to Yoongi’s girlfriend, who was sighing ruefully, giving Yoongi the side-eye, muttering under her breath so only they could hear.

“What do you think he’s gonna do, Yoongi, ask to fuck me?” she hissed, placing the wad of wet napkins onto the table.

Too bad you think that style is cringey, otherwise you might have had a shot.

Jungkook’s hand shot out and squeezed her thigh.

“Can I fuck you, noona?” he breathed, chest tight.

He dug his nails into the sheer stocking, ripping new holes.

“If hyung lets me?”

"Yoongi, what are you thinking?"

Your boyfriend smiled. Very nonchalant. Nearly innocent. You knew better. This was Min Yoongi after all. His cardigan was off now. His broad shoulders in the white t-shirt were very distracting. Actually, so were his arms, now toned and more defined. Yoongi had recently taken an interest in working out.

His smile turned into a smirk. "What?"

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. You noticed movement under you and smacked Jeon Jungkook's hand down so he was no longer picking at the peach fuzz in his face. He gasped in surprise, but you ignored him, completely focused on your rather troublesome boyfriend.

"You can't be serious."

You felt fingers brushing against the hem of your shirtdress, playing with the edge of the fabric. Yoongi was kneeling behind Jungkook, who was sitting on your bed, and the younger man was now messing with your outfit as you and Yoongi continued your conversation about him.

Your boyfriend leaned down and placed his hands on Jungkook's jaw, laying down his deft fingers one by one, lifting that chiseled chin up, those wide brown eyes now looking at your face, paired with the amused, cat-like ones.

"I am serious," Yoongi murmured. "You should teach him a lesson."

You pursed your lips. "He already apologized. That's enough."

Yoongi tilted his head, clicking his tongue.

"No, it's not."

Your eyes flickered down and you raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's interruption. "What was that?"

He gulped under your stern gaze. "Um..."

Yoongi smiled pleasantly, removing his hands from Jungkook's face. "See? He wants it."

"He's your friend, Yoongi. We're going to have to see him in person later. You want him to be horny every second he's around me?"

Yoongi placed his palm on the crown of Jungkook's head, drumming his fingers slowly. Light blue strands curled around his dark brows and eyes, playful smirk on his shapely pink lips. His deep voice was a low, alluring drawl.

"He already is."

Jungkook nodded very fast to agree. He was trying to hide the keen excitement in his eyes by not speaking, but his eager expression was giving him away as Yoongi slowly chipped away at common sense. You grabbed Jungkook's chin and squeezed, holding him in place. His breathing hitched in your hand, small whimper of your name leaving his lips.

"Don't look at me like that," you scolded.

"Like what?" Jungkook asked with shaking eyes and a small pout.

You kept switching from Jungkook's to Yoongi's eyes because if you looked too long into those pleading brown orbs, you might actually crack. You spoke slowly, emphasizing each word.

"Like you're desperate for it."

A low, dangerous chuckle.

Your gaze fixated on Yoongi. He was about to do something.

His long fingers worked into that short black hair and yanked back, making Jungkook gasp and shiver as he was pulled from your hand, your name falling from his lips in a breathy moan as his eyes continued to watch you, waiting, needing, begging.

"P... Please, noona..."

Yoongi's grip tightened in those black locks, Jungkook whimpering at the roughness, his own hands clutching your shirtdress, tugging at it.

"I'm telling you to do it," Yoongi purred, smokey and dark, staring into your eyes.

Jungkook was pulling your shirt now, pulling you to him, getting you to straddle his lap, you glaring at Yoongi's smirking face the entire time, annoyed that he put you in this position, and yet you knew something of this nature was coming the second he pulled you aside earlier today and asked you to dress the way you normally did because he was going to take you out to eat with Jungkook and Hoseok. Jung Hoseok already knew about your eccentric fashion sense and, while it did spook him a little the first time, he often sent you links of clothes that reminded him of you. You didn't think much of Jungkook being there. He was the youngest and Yoongi often treated him to a nice meal, although usually without you.

"Unbutton the top more."

Yoongi had adjusted the exposed shoulder himself and handed you the leather choker.

"Wear this one."

You had given him a skeptical look. "You suiting me up for some kind of mission?"

Yoongi had smiled mysteriously.

"We're going to make Jungkookie's life a living hell and he's going to like it."

Apparently, Yoongi's mission was to tempt and torture Jungkook until he was mildly insane and then subsequently draw out the younger man’s ravenous desperation so that Jungkook was now clawing at your thighs and whimpering under you, trying to get you to fuck him, shuddering every time he attempted to raise his hands and Yoongi punished him by yanking at his hair in warning.

"She hasn't said yes yet. No higher until she says yes," Yoongi snapped, not taking his eyes off you and your body.

"B-But..."

You slapped a hand down on Jungkook's mouth and squeezed harshly, digging your nails into his cheekbones.

"Shh. I'm thinking."

You closed your eyes.

Breathed out.

"You know the only hope for me is you, right?"

"That's a little dramatic, Yoongi."

Those dark brown, cat-like eyes glittered, full of mischief.

"You always play along with my ideas."

"They're all very good. You are a genius."

You loved the way Yoongi smiled at you, endearing and sweet with a hint of cunning cleverness. He liked to invent new ways to keep your life interesting. Being with Min Yoongi was never boring.

"I doubt you'll be able to shock me though. I've seen it all." You, too, enjoyed challenging him and being challenged. That was part of the fun.

That's why you carried on with his black parade.

Yoongi chuckled. "Mmm, famous last words."

“Don’t let him move.”

His veins were on fire, chest shuddering as his head was pulled back, back, his spine arching to an almost uncomfortable position, but he didn’t care, only feeling pleasure as she leaned down, hovering over his body, her hand on his mouth, gasps trapped on his tongue while her own extended from those dark lips, down, down, her other hand grabbing a fistful of his hoodie and yanking down the neckline.

The tip of her tongue touched the space right between his collarbones.

She removed her hand.

Jeon Jungkook moaned, hot and wanton, sinfully right in front of Min Yoongi’s face as Yoongi’s girlfriend licked up his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple and scraping her teeth against it, before sliding up to his chin, stopping right before his lips.

Exactly where the mole under his lower lip was, tip of the wet muscle unmoving.

Those sharp eyes shrouded in black eyeshadow and dark eyeliner looked down on him.

“Please, n-noona…”

He didn’t care if he was being pathetic, tearing at her stockings with his fingernails, unashamedly imploring for more.

She didn’t speak. Yoongi spoke for her.

“Please what?” his hyung murmured, massaging his scalp slowly.

His cock was so hard that it physically hurt being trapped in his jeans like this. Any sanity he had left was being obliterated into pure, unadulterated lust. Jungkook didn’t care anymore about right or wrong. Whatever they let him have, he would take. He would beg and plead and cry if he had to. Whatever it took.

He whimpered, his thighs tensing with need.

“P-Please fuck me…”

I want it.

I need it.

I crave it.

She raised her tongue and flickered it over his lips. He moaned, shaking, his hands dropping from her thighs, reaching between his own legs and rubbing his painful erection through the zipper of his jeans, nearly sobbing as Yoongi’s fingers tightened, nails raking at his scalp.

“I can’t t-take it anymore… please… whatever you want to do, just do it, please, please touch me, I can’t s-stand it, I’m so h-hard…”

She pressed her knee down onto the back of his hands and Jungkook whimpered, so aroused that even that felt good, simply knowing she was applying the pressure, his balls suffocating a little against the center seam because of how thick and stiff he had become.

“Are you a little bit of a masochist, Jungkook?” she whispered, licking his lower lip gently.

Instead of answering right away, he pulled his hands out from under her knee and pressed it down onto his aching cock, his eyes rolling back and moaning deeply, forcefully raising his hips up, slightly pulling on his own hair in the process.

“Hyung, noona, please…”

The friction was almost painful, but the leaking pre-cum had soaked into his underwear, the slickness rubbing against the head, the added pressure of her knee slightly crushing his erection being his own self-inflicted pain that only added to the pleasure.

Jungkook gazed at her with half-lidded eyes, shuddering.

“Destroy me more.”

Min Yoongi liked to watch his woman work.

She was the best, she knew she was the best, and she only got better the longer she was with him. Of course, he loved her working him most. But Yoongi also enjoyed keeping things interesting. Being an assistant to the master was just as fun. And besides, they had a much more equal power dynamic and that’s what they liked.

But Jeon Jungkook.

He pulled Jungkook’s hoodie off, taking the shirt underneath with it, bare chest exposed to sharp black nails that immediately sent Jungkook into a spiraling mess of moans, falling back as those dark lips attacked the tanned skin, leaving marks all over that muscular body. Yoongi placed a hand under that sharp chin and pressed the younger male’s head to his chest.

He liked this too, this power.

Yoongi pressed his fingertips into Jungkook’s chin and raked his nails over that quivering throat.

He didn’t expect anyone to understand how or why he operated the way he did. He only needed one person to understand and she was currently yanking off Jungkook’s jeans and black boxer briefs with vicious vigor, throwing them aside before climbing off his lap.

Yoongi placed his hand over Jungkook’s eyes and wordlessly took his sight.

He liked the sounds Jungkook made. Needy, desperate, and strikingly beautiful. He had a wonderful quality to his voice, pouring all of his emotion into it. Nice cock too. Very hard, very red, a good length and girth. Yoongi chuckled, amused at the younger man’s eagerness. He lowered his head, whispering into that ear with three quivering silver hoops.

“So cringey, isn’t it?” he taunted.

Jungkook whined in his hands, trembling tone saturated with apology. “I’m sorry, hyung, I’m so sorry, I take it back, I didn’t mean it, p-please believe me...”

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his woman remove her panties and step out of them. Stockings and garter belt stayed on though. She had style. He smirked, humming softly to mask her movement.

“You don’t have to say sorry to me.”

He removed his hand and she dropped her bare pussy onto Jungkook’s naked thigh.

Wet, hot, and sweet.

“Oooh, fuck…”

He lifted his head, eyes hazy and unfocused, greeted by the sight of Yoongi’s girlfriend straddling his thigh and rubbing her pussy all over him, the scent of her perfume mixing with the scent of her sex, thick and delicious and intoxicating, her soaked opening flexing against his hard muscle, driving him insane, disappointed that she was still mostly dressed.

“Noona…”

Jungkook reached for the belt at her waist, expecting Yoongi to stop him, but he didn’t, letting Jungkook unbuckle it, his hands shaking badly from the pleasure of her pussy touching his naked skin. The gentle slap of her thigh against his balls and cock not enough. He wanted to be touched, but those scrutinizing eyes indicated that she would touch him when she wanted and no sooner. It was making him lose his mind, but he loved it, moaning her name deep from his chest as he struggled to undo the small buttons, flinching and shuddering with her movements.

“I’m sorry, noona…” he gasped, staring into those sultry dark eyes.

She reached up and touched his lips, tracing the shape with her nail, sending shivers all over his body.

“You gonna watch your mouth from now on, Jungkook?” she murmured, trapping him with her gaze, turning the shivers into brimming electricity.

“Y-Yes, noona…”

He undid the last button and she swiftly removed her hand from his mouth and smacked his away, shrugging out of the shirtdress and tossing it to the floor before reaching down to her ass. She opened her mouth and her tongue snaked out, shiny with saliva, using her hands to spread her ass and pussy, squelching down on his hard, tense muscle.

“A-Ah, so good…”

And now he could feel more, the inner lips of her pussy now rubbing on his skin with her clit, slick and slippery, muscles of her opening constricting and relaxing on his thigh, an indescribable feeling, sensual and dirty and raw, the control so precise that her smug expression and upper body remained relaxed, hips still moving at the same rough pace.

Yoongi’s fingers tangled in his hair again, husky voice at his ear.

“Put the fingers of your right hand in her mouth.”

Jungkook obeyed as if spellbound, raising his hand and dipping his fingers into that waiting mouth, her warm tongue wrapping around them and coating them with her saliva, pink muscle gliding between his joints and dancing around his tattoos, spit dribbling down his palm and dropping in fat plops onto his crotch, his body flinching at the contact, unashamedly whimpering his want, Yoongi’s dark chuckle filling his ear.

It must have looked so dirty.

So wrong.

“Take them out.”

Jungkook removed his fingers with a sniffle, the coil in his core so tight he thought he was going to explode.

“Touch yourself.”

His cheeks burned at the thought of his own hand wrapping around his cock in front of two people, adrenaline and thrill burning his veins.

“B… But, hyung…”

“You touched yourself in the bathroom at the restaurant earlier, didn’t you?” that deep purr accused, pulling at his hair, prickling pain shocking his scalp.

“I…” His hand lowered. “I h-had to… noona is just so…” Staring into those heavily shadowed eyes, tongue licking those dark-stained lips, his saliva-coated fingers wrapping around his aching, taut cock, so close to sobbing at the relief of being touched that his voice cracked a little. “So sexy… and she smells s-so goooooood…”

Eyelids fluttering, Yoongi rapping his shoulder, telling him to look at her, telling him to appreciate that hair cascading over her left eye, those breasts cupped perfectly in that black lace bra, that garter and stockings barely encasing those juicy legs and her pussy sliding up and down his thigh, her hands spreading her ass wide so he could feel it as he punishingly and roughly pumped his cock, trembling all over, struggling to get his words out, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he explained but, for some reason, he wanted to explain and became even more aroused by it, relishing in knowing that she was listening intently to his confession.

“You always smell so, so good, noona… I t-touched myself w-while smelling your perfume on my clothes… T-Thinking about you and my hands all over your perfect body and your hands t-touching me…”

Fucking his hand harder, tighter, faster, slipping down, down, knowing what he was going to say next, driving himself to that point, the coil inside causing every muscle to tense, staring right into her eyes, knowing his pupils were blown-out and unfocused.

“T-Touching me like I am right now, abusing my c-cock and… s-stopping right before I c-cum…”

So close, so close, so close, please, please, please…

Her hand shot out and gripped his wrist painfully, forcing him to let go of his cock.

Jungkook cried out in vain, jerking his head forward and bringing tears to his eyes from the pain of Yoongi’s unmoving grip, tugging at his own hair, the sudden denial causing his cock to twitch and slap against her thigh, smearing pre-cum and saliva onto her soft skin, knowing that he wanted it, sinfully satisfied in how perfectly frustrated she made him, reading his signals and torturing him just right.

A merciful, skilled devil in disguise.

The hand left his hair.

Her hips slowed, sitting onto his thigh, an almost unbearable weight that he welcomed.

“Jungkook.”

His head lolled, scalp stinging, staring into her eyes and loving the way she said his name, like her tongue was wrapping around it and caressing it, each syllable drenched with curated possessiveness that was meant just for him.

Yoongi’s fingers snaked around his neck, four fingers fitting under his left ear, thumb pressing onto the pulse just under his right ear.

“You want to finish inside me?” she exhaled, hot and heavy and addictive.

The grip on his neck tightened, pressing on the blood vessels leading to his head.

One of her hands was still on his wrist. The other reached in between his thighs, past his stiff, purple-red cock. Fingers wrapped elegantly around his balls, joints locking, keeping him in a vise-like grip of pure power without adding any unnecessary pressure.

“Y… Yes, please…” he gasped weakly.

The grip of his wrist vanished. He was getting lightheaded, fighting to keep his eyes on her, and her free hand was now finally encircling his cock, finger by finger, making him wait, squeezing his balls a little harder, fuck, her touch, a distinctly different hand and different power, gently stroking his throbbing length as Yoongi choked him and she pulsed her grip around his balls, his breath leaving in shallow gasps and not only from the thinning circulation, but the flashes of pain and the constant pleasure of her hands and her wet pussy flush against his thigh.

“What if I make you cum like this?” she murmured, leaning in, Yoongi pressing in between his shoulder blades and pushing him to her beautiful face, dark and sultry and captivating, her lips now close to his.

“O… Okay…”

It took all of his willpower to hold himself up with his hands.

“You can do whatever you want to me, noona,” Jungkook whispered thinly. “I mean it.”

Yoongi pet his sweaty hair, pushing it away from his forehead, squeezing his neck tighter.

Jungkook choked out her name, desire so potent that he saw something in her eyes flicker. She liked it. She liked him and what she was doing to him and his reaction to it. It gave Jungkook a special kind of high, the kind of arousal that transcended past the sex.

Jungkook couldn’t get out anymore.

He knew he would crave this feeling, the feeling of power in powerlessness.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Jungkook’s first kiss with Yoongi’s girlfriend was her forcefully jacking him off as she squeezed his balls and Yoongi choked him, his tongue sloppy and lips quivering, her sucking on it and making him moan with his tongue trapped in her dark lips, his hips twitching and shooting thick strings of cum all over her thigh, his thigh, and the sheets, suddenly slingshot into oxygen when Yoongi let go, adding to the high, his eyes rolling back, shivers racking his body, pleasure so intense that he felt nothing else, absolutely nothing but her touch, her hand leaving his balls and wrapping around his waist, pulling him to her body, her kiss stealing his breath, her cum-covered hand sliding up and down his abused cock.

Jungkook inhaled.

Her perfume invaded his nose, marshmallow sweetness, warmth of green tea, spark of ginger, and he was drunk, drunk on submission, sex, and their power over him.

Yoongi loved everything she did.

The way she looked at him.

The way her body moved.

The way she leaned over and kissed him as he pinned Jungkook’s wrists over his head while she was riding the younger man’s cock with a bruising, intense pace, her tongue curling around his, moaning softly into his mouth, lover to lover. With every moment, Yoongi fell more and more in love, addicted to orchestrating the perfect scenarios for his woman to completely ruin someone else.

She broke the kiss.

What a brilliant, satisfied, killer smile.

“O-oh, fuck, so good, fuck, your pussy is s-so good…”

Yoongi sat back and watched her hands slide over Jungkook’s chest, gripping his shoulders and fucking him hard, watching her pretty pussy clench around that cock that was begging for that tightness and that torture, the younger man rolling his hips up with every descent, destroying himself further.

The squelch and slap of skin to skin was audible, loud, and so, so sexy.

Her fingertip flicked the bottom of Jungkook’s chin, smirk on those plush lips now smeared with dark lipstick. There was something erotic about the mess though, her wild hair bouncing with every thrust, faint dark smudges now on his lips and Jungkook’s panting mouth.

“Aren’t you the perfect little fucktoy?” she teased.

There was a tension in her jaw, indicating that she was clenching around the younger man’s cock.

“A-Ah, just f-for you, noona…”

She frowned playfully, cocking a disbelieving eyebrow. “Hmm, I don’t know, sweet boys always have sweet tongues and you’ve already proven yours sometimes says misleading things…”

Jungkook whimpered. “P-Please, I s-said I was sorry… I m-mean it…”

Yoongi liked this begging, this desperate tremble vibrating from that silvery voice.

“I would n-never do something l-like this…”

Jungkook had such a handsome face, even with his cheeks flushed red and his composure falling apart.

“Unless it was y-you… and Yoongi-hyung, oooh, God…”

He raised his eyebrows, making eye contact with her.

She smirked back, dangerous and perfect.

“I-I can’t...”

“Yes, you can, Jungkook,” you murmured, arms around his neck, his arms shaking as he held himself up, moaning as you stroked his back, Yoongi behind you, still fully dressed, kneading your breasts, your nipples poking out between his long fingers and giving Jungkook the visual of your cleavage and the hard nubs poking straight out at him.

He groaned, hazy brown orbs returning to your face.

“Please, wanna make you cum with my cock so b-bad…”

You began to rock your hips again, the brief intermission stalling his orgasm over, and now he was moaning again, squirming at the oversensitivity and strained by the denial, your pulsing pussy keeping him hard until you built the pace up again, pushing him to the edge once more.

“Look at you,” you murmured, caressing his neck and back, fingers splayed over his hot skin. “You dream about this, Jungkook? Dream about hyung letting you be noona’s fuck slave?”

His teeth sunk into his lower lip, whining in his chest.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Shh…”

Your fingers slid up into his hair, cradling his head, smacking your ass down onto his thighs, tightening around his cock. Jungkook moaned into your face helplessly, shuddering at your sensual gesture contrasted by your fierce thrusts.

“I wanted you too,” you whispered hotly, breathing in his clean scent. “You always looked so innocent. Made me want to mess you up every time I saw that handsome, nervous face of yours.”

Your grip tensed around his head, lower half really giving it to him now, bouncing on his cock, letting his thickness and his hardness fill you up over and over again, Yoongi pinching your nipples and rolling them between his fingers, following your rhythm.

“It’s not going to be enough for him, you know,” Yoongi chuckled darkly behind you. “He’s going to come crawling back, begging for more.”

Jungkook bit his lip again, looking from you to Yoongi, already guilty.

You leaned forehead, placing a light kiss on that mole below his lower lip.

“I love it when you beg for me, Jungkook,” you purred.

You could feel it, arousal flaring at your own words, already close and getting closer, pussy pulsating around that satisfying girth.

“Are you going to be patient?” you teased, tugging at his hair, savoring the strained moans from Jungkook’s throat. “Are you going to wait on your knees and watch Yoongi fuck me until he’s satisfied and then come to take his place and show me that you can be good for me too?”

You felt Jungkook’s cock twitch inside you, already enthralled with the idea.

“Y-Yes, noona, p-please…”

Fuck.

You dug your nails into his scalp and moaned deeply, staring into those glazed-over brown orbs, drugged on his lust for you.

“You’re so obedient, fuck, makes me want to cum on this pretty cock of yours and reward you.”

Yoongi pinched your nipples and tugged on them.

The spark collided through you, gasping as your orgasm seized your senses and took over, your eyes rolling back as the powerful jolts made your walls spasm, tension so high that it felt as if your nerves were vibrating, Jungkook’s name tumbling from your lips with a hiss that turned into a groan in unison with his, his overstimulated cock jerking and twitching from the brutal massage of your orgasm, the condom swelling inside you from spurts of his own.

The scent of sex was so strong that even Yoongi moaned, squeezing your breasts roughly.

“F-Fuck…”

You inhaled sharply, feeling Yoongi’s arms wrap around you, nuzzling your neck.

“Don’t I have such good ideas?”

You grinned, seeing Jungkook’s euphoric expression before he pitched forward and leaned his forehead against your other shoulder, panting for breath. His exhale was warm, drifting over your racing heart and heating your heated skin.

“Yes, Yoongi,” you chuckled, stroking his soft blue hair and Jungkook’s sweaty black hair. “You’re a genius.”

"Jungkook-ah!"

"Sorry, Jimin-ssi, I can't–" He clenched his jaw, stifling the noise threatening to escape from his throat. "I can't hang out today. I have a deadline for work."

"Aw, that's okay Jungkookie. Do you want hyung to bring you some dinner? I can stop by!"

"I already ate, ah, just now. Thanks anyway."

"Okay, okay, I'll leave you alone. Don't forget your hyungs! You work too much."

Jeon Jungkook made an affirmative grumble. "Talk to you later."

An elegant finger reached over and hung up the call. The same hand lifted his phone from his ear and placed it back on the nightstand. Jungkook wasn't able to hold the phone himself.

He was handcuffed to the headboard.

"A-Ah, noona, fuck!"

Now that he was off the phone, she turned the toy back on, making him yelp and squirm. He whimpered, thighs shaking as his prostrate was assaulted with harsh vibrations, the connected silicone ring choking his cock and balls, flush against the base of both.

He moaned her name helplessly, looking down to see her laying between his legs, jerking forward with every smack of Min Yoongi's hips. His hard, dark red cock was sticking straight up right in front of her face. She heated it with her calm exhale, smiling at his shuddering whine.

"P-Please, touch me, o-o-oh, fuuuuuuuck..."

Yoongi smacked her ass with his open palm, making Jungkook moan at the sight of her ass bouncing from his hyung's dick.

"F-Fuck, please, noona, hyung, please, I wanna c-cum so b-bad..."

She increased the vibration setting and patted his thigh, returning to casually fucking Yoongi as he lost his mind from the jarring, rough pleasure, flexing his core and ass to make his cock jerk and swing in the air, unable to touch himself because of the handcuffs.

He loved it.

Jungkook loved every second of the torture crafted just for him.

"What a good boy for his noona."

Jungkook could only moan and whimper in response.

"Mm? Are you a good boy for her? Lying to Jimin so you can spend more time with my lovely woman?"

The younger man whimpered, biting his lip.

“H-Hyung…”

Yoongi smirked as Jungkook’s eyes rolled back, mouth open, gasping wail falling from his mouth as her tongue circled the head of his cock, lapping gently at the sensitive skin. The handcuffs rattled, Jungkook’s hands gripping the chain, tattoos standing out on his arm from his tense muscles. Yoongi watched her hands side up those toned thighs, up shaking hips, up to that slim waist, then drag back down, nails pricking at that skin, creating indents and red lines, visible, wet, glistening tongue toying with the throbbing cock in front of her.

He felt his own twitch inside her. Her muscles clenched around him tightly in response.

She lifted her head, gripping Jungkook’s hips and forcing him down on the bed, him whining and pleading for her to do more, but all three of them knew the way this was going to go and the one in the handcuffs wasn’t calling the shots.

“You keep coming back, Jungkook, and it’s gonna ruin sex for you.”

Her hand slid up his abused cock and balls, playing with them and rubbing the overstimulated skin as Yoongi increased his pace in power and speed, fingers spread out on her hips and sinking in, mirrored by the way she removed her hand from Jungkook’s length and grabbed his hips again, cocking her head, looking down at Jungkook.

“You keep flying high and you’re not going to want to come down.”

Jungkook’s black hair was all over his forehead, messy and sweaty, shudders leaving his swollen lips. The light caught the glint of the silver metal piercing on his trembling eyebrow.

She leaned down, hands crawling up his body, digging her nails in, scratching him up, and Yoongi hissed at the shifted angle, deeper now and more intense, her hair cascading down her shoulders, the sweet scent wafting up, sweet, warm, spicy, his favorite scents in the world melding together.

Sex.

Perfume.

And his woman, a curator of the little, beautiful death.

She chuckled, taunting and playful, placing her forearms on Jungkook’s chest, pushing back against Yoongi and using the other male’s body as leverage, poised in front of Jungkook’s fallen composure, one hand lifting and tracing his lips, enticing that pink tongue to sneak out, begging for a taste.

She shoved her fingers into his mouth, humming approvingly as Jungkook began to suck on them noisily, moaning around her fingers as the rhythm escalated, louder and louder, squeezing his length tighter so Yoongi had to thrust harder, growling in his chest, firmly gripping her ass, faster, rougher, her fingers sliding in further, the wet sounds of tongue and lips adding to the symphony.

Her words the crescendo.

“The jetset life is gonna kill you, Jungkook.”

The fire flared to an unbearable tension and Yoongi hissed her name, clenching his jaw and scratching her back hard, causing her to let out a long, drawn-out moan, clenching around his entire length and he came, cock jerking against her punishing walls, shooting his orgasm into the condom, his fingers sliding down her back, groaning satisfyingly when she matched him, her cum gushing out and sticking to his crotch and thighs, sweet purr of his name drifting out of her lips, her fingers slipping from Jungkook’s mouth, shiny with saliva and wiping it all over his chin.

“O-o-oh, fuuuuuuuck, please…”

And she didn’t forget, not even in her ecstasy, her hand wrapping around Jungkook’s neck, choking him strongly, driving him to the edge.

It took seconds.

Your lips curved into a smirk, Jungkook’s shaking, half-lidded brown orbs saturated with lust, vibrations and visuals and now the loss of blood leaving him breathless, lightheaded, and at your mercy.

Open mouth, gasping out your name.

Then he threw his head back, airlessly screaming, handcuffs rattling, muscles standing out all over his body from the searing tension, tattoos glistening with sweat, eyes rolling back, hips jolting up and shooting cum all over your stomach and his, orgasm so intense that he arched his back and jammed his cock between your bodies, your hand releasing him, Jungkook sobbing at the relief of his aching length still flinching and twitching, the hot head of his cock throbbing against your skin, still dribbling out hot cum in between your bodies, thick and slick.

You slithered on top of him, smearing it everywhere.

“Oh, God, n… noona…”

“Asleep already?”

You petted Jungkook’s head, smoothing his hair. “He had an eventful night.”

Yoongi chuckled. “He asked for it.”

Jungkook scooted closer to your heat, burying his nose in your chest, inhaling deeply.

Yoongi kissed the top of your head affectionately and you reached for his hand, running your fingertips over his knuckles. He placed it on your bare hip, tracing his marks on you.

“So, next time…”

“You’re already planning next time, huh?” You turned your head to look at those mischievous, cat-like eyes shrouded by strands of wispy light blue.

Yoongi ticked a brow. “Do you think he’s going to stop? I made him wait a whole month from the first time to this time and he gave me puppy eyes every chance he got.”

You shook your head with a smile, turning back to run your fingers through Jungkook’s black hair. “I wonder how you survived.”

“I looked away.”

You snickered and lifted Yoongi’s hand, pressing his fingertips to your lips.

“I would make him look away from me,” you murmured, low and dangerous.

“Hmm, then I’ll let you decide when next time will be.”

“Not counting tomorrow morning, right?”

“Of course.”

You felt Jungkook’s lips press onto your skin, a soft kiss inviting you and Yoongi to destroy him more.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #bts smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jungkook x you #yoongi x you #yoonkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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kiribaku-queen · 3 years

Text

The Blood King and his Queen [1]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.4K

Summary: From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: Hello my loves! And welcome back to another, rather long, series! I had so many inspirations for this piece that I couldn’t wait to share with you all! Be warned, this might be a 20 part series, maybe more maybe less but we’ll see what happens! I hope you fall in love with this story as much as I do!

And shout out to this amazing artist for the art! I am literally BLOWN AWAY by this art! I can’t stop looking at it! It’s so amazingly well drawn. Just... yes, yes, yes! Please support this artist if you ever want art done! Pricey but just look at this art. So worth it! Check out the end of the chapter for the full image without text!

Also!!!! Check out my side blog if you’re curious about what fics I’m reading! You’ll find alot of j u i c y stuff and please support my friends by reading and commenting on their stories as well! Love <3

[next]

Nothing started your morning off better than the princess screaming her head off first thing in the morning. You, along with other servants, rushed to aid the princess in her time of distress. Although, it was never something to worry about with her. It was always something minor, like her hair was styled incorrectly or she didn’t like the color of clothes her servant picked out. Of course, this time, she was making a fuss that her perfume didn’t smell right.

“Your highness, I promise you, it’s the same one,” one of the servants who aided her in the morning pleaded for her life.

“No! You must have switched it out because it smells nothing like mine!” the princess screeched. The princess was so outraged that she started throwing everything and anything that was around her. Clothes, jewelry, candles, mirrors, anything she could get her hands on, she threw it. You and the other girls that just arrived could only watch in horror as her whole room becomes a mess with her belongings, some broken some completely shattered.

You wanted to say something. But you knew you couldn’t. If you stepped out of line or even talked back to any of the royals, you were surely to be punished severely later. Yet, you wanted to say something so bad. It was on the tip of your tongue. Because you knew the reason why it may smell different to the princess. To help your fellow friend in desperate need, you were going to say it. You pray to the gods that what you were about to say was right.

“Princess, if I may,” you started. The princess stopped what she was doing, midair, to give you the coldest stare you have ever received from her. You gulped. Well, too late to back out now. You bowed down your head respectfully while extending your hand to take the perfume. You don’t know why the princess decided to trust you at that moment, but she did. She nodded her head, allowing one of the servants to retrieve the bottle and place it in the palm of your hands.

“I believe it’s because your clothes already have a different perfume on it.” you explain. You pick up a different piece of clothing, one you knew was clean and free from previous scents, and spritzed the perfume onto it. “Here, does this smell like normal?” you offer the piece of clothing to the princess. For a moment, she stares at it, not believing your words. But she forcibly takes it anyway and smells it. The look of realization hit her harder than when she smashed her mirror against the floor. She spares you a second glance before handing off her perfume to someone and faces away.

“I would like to be left alone,” the princess states. After a synchronized bow from all her servants, you left the princess’s quarters and back to your own. When you were far enough, you let out a big sigh of relief. Man, that was scary. You probably shouldn’t be doing that again any time soon. Your friend hooked arms with you, the unexpected force made you loose your balance.

“Your intuition was spot on, once again,” she stated. You could only roll your eyes.

“I was just trying to help the situation,” you explained.

“Yeah, well if only the princess could use her brain once in a while, then she would have figured it out herself,” your friend puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Well maybe her highness wasn’t feeling herself this morning,” you tried to defend her. But really, there was only so much you could defend her on.

“Oh, please, (y/n). You know that’s how she acts all the time. You act more like a princess than the princess herself,” your friend finally let the cat out of the bag. You quickly slapped her hand and checked your surroundings. Phew, no one of importance was in sight.

“Oh hush now. Don’t say things like that,” you scold her, giving her a stern look.

“What? You know all us girls think that. It doesn’t help that you look almost exactly like her. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the princess instead.”

“Good gracious! Really? How could you say that so loud? What if someone overhears you? Then both you and me could get in trouble,” you warned. You knew your friend couldn’t care less. It was always gossip coming out of these girl’s mouths. That’s how news spreads fast around here. And you didn’t mind the gossip. Actually, you participated in the gossip too. There was a lot of downtime when you weren’t attending to the princess. So what do you do instead? Gossip. But you couldn’t have this type of gossip going around. This was dangerous.

The main girl who caused the princess to get upset, finally left the room. She was visibly traumatized by the whole event. Who wouldn’t be? Dealing with the princess is something else.

You noticed that the girl was bleeding from her finger. She must have gotten it when the princess was throwing glass around the room and it some pieces cut her.

“Come with me,” you gently grabbed her by the arm and led her to a room that was filled with different plants and bottles. The aroma immediately felt welcoming to anyone who stepped in. You went to a part of the room that you knew well and pulled out a bandage.

“This should do the trick,” you say as you finish wrapping her finger up.

“Thank you. How did you…”

“Oh, I learned a few things from the royal doctor. Sort of like an apprentice?” you explained. Being a servant isn’t the only task you knew how to do. On your spare time, you would come to the royal doctor and assist him whenever needed. In return for your volunteer, he taught you everything he knew about medicine. It was still a lot to process, but at least you knew how to do basic first aid.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” the girl asked. You thought for a minute. Was it? It wasn’t stopping you now.

“Well I guess it’s our little secret,” you put your finger to your mouth and gave a small wink.

After properly getting ready, you and the girls rushed to the princess’s side for it was your job to get her ready to be sent of and wedded. And she was not getting wedded off to just any prince. It was the rumored Blood Prince. Ah, yes. You heard much about this Blood Prince. He was the most vicious out of all the princes in the kingdom. Even more so than his eldest brothers. He was rumored to have sharp teeth and eyes that could kill with a single look. He was told to have scars marked all over his body from the battlefield. An ugly being, you imagined. Big, scary, intimidating, ruthless. God, you felt sorry for the princess for marrying such a man. You couldn’t imagine yourself marrying that type of person. Hearing stories about him made your blood run cold and chills down your spine.

You entered the princess’s room where a beautiful, white wedding dress, flowy, magnificent and perfect in all the right ways, was being fitted on the princess. You watched in awe because she looked absolutely fantastical in the dress. What a dream it would to be wear that dress only once in your life. At the same time her dress was being fitted, some servants were doing her hair and putting decorative pins and head pieces on. It was very chaotic in the room, with servants running everywhere, but it was all worth it for the princess to look this way.

You were preparing water for her hands and feet to soak while some of the girls that came with you were deciding which robe that best fits with her wardrobe.

“Your highness looks so lovely,” you commented, gently soaking her hands into warm bowls of water.

“Of course! I have to look my best for a special guest this afternoon,” the princess said in a cheery voice. You tilted your head slightly in confusion. You weren’t aware that the Blood Prince was coming to the palace. You thought the princess was being sent to him instead. You looked up and came into contact with a friend and she was speaking with her eyes.

She doesn’t know. She signaled to you. You frowned.

She doesn’t know?

She does not know.

Your mouth was left slightly ajar. The princess does not know that she is off to be engaged any moment now? This was a dilemma. She thinks a guest is coming. That’s why she’s dressed so much fancier than usual. But when she finds out that she is to be engaged, she’s going to wreck havoc in the palace. Now you really didn’t dare say anything now.

After finding out that very important piece of information, you could see that all the girls in the room knew, besides the princess. The tension in the room was growing increasingly more uncomfortable as time went on. But the princess was so air headed that she couldn’t read the room.

The princess was over the moon with happiness. And it was only because she could wear her fancy and expensive gowns that she can’t wear on the daily. She was skipping down the long corridors, humming a tune to only she knows as you and other servants follow behind her.

“Isn’t this dress beautiful? I feel like I’m in a wedding dress!” the princess exclaimed. You couldn’t help but raise a brow. Well, it’s because the princess is really in a wedding dress. But the princess did look beautiful beyond compare. She almost looked ethereal dancing in front of you like that. As the princess was dancing down the corridor, she passed by one of many large windows that gave a view of the front of the palace. A carriage was waiting to take her away to her fiancé, but she didn’t know that. Or did she?

She stopped in her tracks to take a better look at the carriage outside. A frown laid upon her lips and her eyebrows rightfully furrowed.

“Is that my carriage down there?” she questions. The ladies around you looked at each other, not knowing what to say. But even if they did know what to say, who was going to say it? One of your friends cleared their throat and bowed down to respond to the princess.

“It is, your highness,” she said.

“Whatever for?” a round of gulps could be heard from everyone there.

“For…your trip to your betrothed,” the girl’s voice shook from fear that the princess was going to blow up.

“My betrothed?” the princess repeated.

“Yes, your highness.”

“As in, to marry?”

“Yes, your highness.”

It was quiet. Nothing more came out of the princess’s mouth. And that scared all of you. This was not the normal reaction you were expecting. You expected her highness to rage, cry, scream, yell, destroy everything around her. But no. She was silent, like her tongue was ripped out of her throat.

In one quick movement, the princess turns around and dashes back to her bedroom. And who does she bring along? You! Before you could comprehend anything, the princess had taken you by the hand and now you were running down the corridor with the princess. The other ladies were running after you. When you turned back to look, you even saw a couple of guards running as well. But it was too late for them. The princess got to her room first, slammed the door closed, and barricaded the door with chairs to prevent anyone from coming inside.

“Your highness,” you call, out of breath from the sudden running. The princess didn’t answer you. She started taking off her dress, sending you into complete shock.

“Your highness! What are you doing?” you panicked. She only glared at you while not stopping what she was doing.

“Enough talking. Just take off your clothes,” she ordered you. You bit your lip. You had no idea what was going on but if she demanded it, then you had no choice but to obey. So, you stripped yourself of your filthy clothes and laid them on the floor. While you stood in front of the princess naked, she was getting the remaining of her clothes off. Then, she passed you her dress.

“Quick, put it on,” she said. You hesitated at first. You? Wear something only a princess could wear? But you couldn’t stall any longer. As quickly as you could, you put on the flowy wedding dress while the princess put on your peasant clothes. Banging was coming from the other side of the door, which only made both of you panic even more. If they came in while all this was happening, you would get into so much trouble. As soon as you both got situated in your new outfits, the princess gripped your shoulders so that you were looking her right in the eyes.

“Listen to me closely. You are going to take my place. I’ll be you and you’ll be me until you come back,” she shouted at you in a whisper.

“Your highness?” you began but she shut you up because she wasn’t finished.

“Your mission is to make this prince hate you so much that he calls off this marriage. Then you’ll return and everything will go back to normal,” she continued. It looked like she wanted to say more, but your time together was cut short. The guards had already pushed their way through the door and charging their way towards you. The princess, who was now dressed as you, quickly covered your face with the veil. The veil was thick enough that no one could see your eyes or face.

“Take the princess,” one of the guards ordered. The real princess bowed her head down, faking it until the end. The guards went straight up to you, grabbing you by both of your arms and forcibly escorted you out to the carriage.

And so there you were, on your way to some unknown kingdom, about to marry some man you didn’t even know. All because the princess ordered you to. No matter how much you hated the idea, you couldn’t even voice your opinions to her. You were in no position to do so. Before you left the palace grounds, you looked back, hoping that this was all some sort of sick joke. But the princess was looking down at you from the window, giving you a nod of trust. She trusted you. You had to fulfil her request.

This is how you found yourself in the presence of the most vicious Blood Prince, Bakugou Katsuki.

A/N: Let me know if you want to be put on a tag list! And leave your thoughts below about the first chapter! What did you think so far? How do you think the story is going to go? What did you think about the art? Speaking of art, here is the full image unedited! Are you in love with it just as much as I am?

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bnha bakugou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou imagine #bnha imagine #bnha art #bakugou angst

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itsapeterthing · 3 years

Text

Paint || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: peter sees a figure walking through the trees during his run and investigates only to meet a girl named y/n painting in the woods.

a/n: requested by anon! a short and sweet meeting story.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request

Peter was almost regretting his decision to join the Avengers at the moment. Nearly getting himself killed dozens of times by adversaries was nothing compared to the run Cap had him and the other Avengers going on in what he considered to be the middle of nowhere. Although he had superhuman abilities that had definitely aided in his run at the beginning, he could feel himself struggling for air and his legs beginning to ache.

A few of the others had already fallen behind a while back and Peter felt himself about to trip over his own feet as he began to run slower.

“Getting tired?” None other than Steve himself asked, running up behind him.

Peter jumped, but then began to push himself to run faster. “N-no. No sir.” Peter huffed. “This... is... easy.”

Cap eyed Peter. “You should take a breather, kid. There’s no harm in that.”

Although Peter was always one to go out of his way to impress the Avengers- especially Captain America- he could barely breathe and his whole body felt like it was just begging for him to take a break.

“A- are you... sure?” Peter asked in between breaths.

“You know your way back?” Steve asked, matching Peter’s pace.

Peter, running out of breath, no longer able to speak just nodded.

“Alright kid. I’ll see you back at the Compound.”

And with that, he picked up his pace, leaving Peter behind. Peter slowed to a stop and doubled over with his hands on his knees, heaving and struggling for breath. He attempted to salute in Cap’s direction, but he had already run past Peter’s point of view.

Still breathing heavy and exhausted, Peter stumbled over to the side of the road and flopped down on his back onto the grass. He turned his head to the side and as he did he saw a figure making their way through the trees.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “H- hey!” He called, but no one answered.

Peter pulled himself up, balancing himself on his elbows to get a better look before calling again. “Hello?”

After he once again did not receive an answer, he pulled himself onto his feet. He questioned whether he really did see someone or if the figure was just a figment of his imagination. He was unable to ask any of the others for reassurance since they either fell behind a while ago or they were ahead with Steve. Deciding to trust this own instincts, Peter began walking through the woods, using his “Peter tingle” as Aunt May liked to call it, to know where to go.

He stopped when he heard the snap of a twig and the rustling of leaves. Following the noise, he carefully walked over the branches scattered across the ground, not trying to alarm whoever he had just followed into the woods. As he approached where the noise had come from, he stopped and attempted to hide himself behind a tree.

In front of him he saw a girl pulling a chair up and off from the top of a table, onto the ground. He watched as she sat down in the chair, opening the bag at her side and pulling out a pad of paper, along with a tray of what he assumed to be paint and brushes.

He knew he probably should have turned around and that this was an invasion of privacy, but he couldn’t help but watch as she painted. He was lured in by how peaceful she seemed. Around them was a peaceful quiet, with only the sounds of birds and the breeze flowing through the trees able to be heard.

It was so much different than what he had been used to. Even before he discovered that he had superpowers, he had lived in the city and there seemed to never be a moment of complete silence- from sirens at all hours of the day to groups of people chatting outside his window at all hours of the night. He thought he had found peace in the noise, but he had barely known the peacefulness of quiet.

Now that he was Spider-Man, it was even harder to find peace whether he was in the city protecting locals or tagging along with the Avengers to save humanity. He was so busy all of the time, it was difficult for him to find peace and quiet, never mind the serenity he felt around him in this exact moment.

Just as he was becoming lost in his own thoughts, he was pulled out of them by the snapping of a twig beneath his feet. As he did, his eyes went wide and he watched as the unnamed girl, jumped from her seat to her feet, scattering brushes and papers along the ground.

He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry!” He spoke.

“Who are you?” She asked. “Did you... did you follow me?”

He could tell her heart rate was speeding up, worried that some random boy had followed her into the woods. That’s fair, he thought.

“No!” He said, quickly. “I mean yeah- yes. But not in a creepy way! I just saw someone walk into the woods and I called and no one said anything so I- I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.”

She just stared at him.

“You know what? I should go. Yeah. I’m gonna leave you alone.” He said, about to turn around.

“Wait.” She called, finally speaking up and stopping him. “Are you... an Avenger?”

Now his heart was the one racing. “What? No!” He chuckled nervously. “Why... what would make you think that?”

She smiled, pointing at his t-shirt. “Because you have their logo on your shirt and it’s the only place out here for like a mile.”

Peter glanced down at the gray t-shirt he was wearing with the Avengers logo printed across his chest. Quickly, he attempted to spin a lie. “Oh this? No. Nope.” He shook his head. “I just... work... at the Avengers Compound. I... hand out waters and stuff to um Thor and ya know... other... people.”

There was a pause as the they stared at each other.

“I’m Y/n.” You told him, moving your hand out to shake his.

He calmed down as you introduced yourself and your own heart settled, knowing now that you weren’t scared of him- meaning you either believed what he said or just simply accepted his lie about working at the Avengers Compound. It wasn’t a whole lie, he told himself though. He did “work” there and occasionally, as the youngest person there, was asked to fetch water from time to time.

“Peter.” He said, taking your hand. “So... what are you doing out here?”

You then remembered what you had come out here for in the first place. You spun around turning back to look at your set up. “Oh!” You exclaimed. “I come out here sometimes to paint. It's really peaceful, you know?”

Peter nodded. He had just been thinking the same thing before he first saw you. It had been difficult for him to know peace for a long time, but here he felt as though he could breath even if it was for a short time.

“I know what you mean.” He told you, then glancing at the mess he had caused when he first spooked you. “Let me help.” He smiled, gesturing to the paint brushes and loose papers scattered along the floor.

You turned around, looking at the mess behind you. “You don’t have to. It’s okay!” You told him, striding over to your workspace and beginning to haphazardly organize the area.

Despite your assurances that you could clean up yourself, Peter followed behind you and began picking up your scattered paintings on the ground.

“You did all of these yourself?” He asked.

You watched as Peter stared at each of your quick paintings in his hand. He, admittedly, did not understand much about art, but he was in awe at the work he saw in front of him. The paintings he held in his hands depicted what he believed to be fairies sitting light as a feather on flowers and hidden in the trees. The design itself was soft and gentle and he was afraid to ruin something so precious in his hands.

“Yeah,” You chuckled.

“They’re really good.” He told you, impressed. “I wish I could do stuff like this. How do you even do this?”

You smiled. A part of you was always nervous showing your paintings to someone else, especially a stranger, but it made you feel warm inside to have this cute, sweaty boy complimenting you on your art and impressed with your skill.

“Everyone has their thing.” You told him. “What about you?”

Peter then thought about his abilities, but for obvious reasons he couldn’t divulge on his strengths without the risk of exposing his identity. Although he couldn’t share that part of himself with you- someone he just met- it made him remember who he was without his abilities- the skills and talents he possessed without the assistance of an accidental spider bite.

“My friend and I build lego sets.” He shrugged.

“That can’t be it.” You laughed. “Come on! What are things you’re good at?”

Peter hadn’t been asked that question in regards to just himself in a while. He felt that people only cared about him recently because he was Spider-Man, not because he was Peter Parker. It felt good for someone to care about him for more than the things he couldn’t control.

“Sciency stuff I guess.” He told you as the two of you stood up and he handed you back your paintings.

You smiled, accepting the pages back and placing them on the table. “See! And you thought you weren’t good at anything.”

Peter smiled before scratching the back of his neck. “So... do you always hang out here in your free time?”

You sat back in your chair, this time organizing your desk space again. You placed your current work-in-progress in front of you and set out your paints. Taking a brush from one of those scattered across the table and dipping it in your desired color you laughed. “Not all the time. Why do you ask?”

Peter felt himself stiffen up. He knew why, but he didn’t want to say it out loud. It wasn’t often he met new people and felt comfortable enough around them, but around you, there was a carefree air. Although he had barely learnt anything about you besides your name and your inclination for painting in the wilderness, he wanted to learn more about you.

“Oh... well... you know...” He began. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? Not in the woods I mean. Not that there’s anything wrong with it! I just- you know-”

At that he heard the strokes of your brush halt on the page as you lifted it and set it down in the glass of water in front of you. You turned back in your chair to look at him, leaning your arm over the back of it. “Like a date?” You asked, cutting him off.

Even though Peter had been through a lot that most teenagers his age had never experienced- that some would even claim required an excessive amount of bravery- he still got flustered when you asked him whether it was a date or not. He thought you were interesting and wanted to get to know you regardless. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in going on a date with you, but he also didn’t want to risk facing rejection and embarrassment.

What do you have to lose? He asked himself.

“I’m sorry if that was forward-” You began as he took a bit longer than you had anticipated for him to answer.

“Yeah. Like a date.” He cut you off. “If you want to anyway... you don’t have to.”

For what felt like the hundredth time since you first met him a few minutes ago, you smiled. “I’d like that.”

And with that you and Peter exchanged numbers before he insisted you go back to painting and that people would begin looking for him soon if he didn’t get back to his run. When his feet hit the road to start running again, he felt a new bolt of energy and pride rush through him as he thought about the cool painter girl’s number he had just gotten in the woods and the date he would share with you that upcoming weekend.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker blurb #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x yn

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missvifdor · 3 years

Text

(The continuation of this post where during a spell class a portal opened and the boys' female doubles as well as MC's appeared in the class) (I think I could make it an independent "story" for the adventures of my MC /OC /YUU)

My MC /OC /YUU and his double crossing the gaze in the class: * Double bi panic *

*Now we will have to find a solution to bring these young ladies and this gentleman back to their reality, but in the meantime here is the look of our twisted guys if they were girls*

Dorm leaders:

Riddle: Looks both serious and cute, with a round cheeky face and big eyes with long thick lashes as well as a pretty pixie haircut. Obviously she stays small but is always bigger than my MC OC YUU, her voice both soft and sharp, a very interesting contrast.

Leona: Made more of a woman than a young girl, still has magnificent hair, bewitching eyes and has a very toned and nicely muscular body. His voice is deep with that tone both seductive and bored. She knows perfectly well that she is beautiful, that she has charm and adores the handset with her immense intelligence. It's an absolutely formidable combo. She is the same height as her male double.

Azul: Gives that mafia-like aura (Or Sugar Mummy), with her hair styled in an impeccable bun and her tailor that is both professional and flatters her gorgeous figure perfectly. Her smile is both sweet and dangerous. But we all know that deep down she is a sweet girl who needs reassurance and who needs to realize how smart, hardworking, and beautiful she is (and we know any of us don't would stop proving it to her). She must be two or three centimeters shorter than her male double.

Kalim: She's still a sun ball and a full cinnamon roll! So positive and supportive! Tie up her long silver hair with a cute headband and always do her makeup in warm tones (where instead Jamil helps her with her makeup like that). Always wears tons of gold bracelets on her wrists and ankles, is very tactile, and has no problem cuddling the people she loves and appreciates! Is the kind of friend who makes sure you eat well and that you don't miss anything. (I can see her thinking that she and Jamil have more of a sister relationship than a master and servant relationship). Is exactly the same size as her male double.

Vil: Let's be honest here, Vil would be the most gorgeous woman who hasn't set foot at Night Raven College for decades after The Beautiful Queen! You almost feel like she's straight out of a fashion magazine but no, it's just that our Reine des Poisons takes so much care of her and works so hard to come to such potential! Her magnificent hair would reach her shoulders, her voice would be as beautiful as honey on a slice of bread and her makeup and manicure would be as perfect as it gets! Maybe she would be a little taller than her male double (even without heels). (I don't know why but apart from her care and makeup, I also see her very well making her own jewelry as well as her perfume).

Idia: Haired with two long, fiery quilts, she would be more the type to have an e-girl style but with very loose clothes that would not show her forms (the poor one does not realize that she has the potential to become a model for lingerie). Her voice would be both sweet and high-pitched, and she could also be smaller than her male double. (And Husbando, so many Husbando!). Doesn't trust her smile because of her sharp teeth but that is her charm and she is so fucking cute! Maybe she would be more organized and manic than her double even if her room would still be in a very big mess (at least she didn't leave her underwear lying around in plain sight, she would die of shame if anyone saw the cute and childish little designs on it).

Malleus: This woman ... Would be exactly the same size as her male double! And she would be so beautiful and elegant! With long black hair that she would let hang down her back, as well as her incredible figure! (Also gives those Magical Sugar Mummy vibes). His voice, by all the gods ... The most sensual and that playful note we've ever heard. Her voice is also so deep and sweet (let's not even talk about her laugh or I'll die of happiness). Still gives that awesome and intimidating impression on people but is so sweet when you get to know her (Always make that adorable pout when she's sad or upset, you feel like hugging her tight and telling her that even though she is scary in the early days, she's the sweetest person we've ever met!).

The Vice-leader:

Trey: Don't lie to each other, give these married vibes over and over again. But beware, also hides his game very well because in private ... 🥵. Her beautiful hair tied in a ponytail and her voice in playful tones. Would be the type to wear stockings with his uniform and is the same size as his male double. Smells like cake and vanilla, it's both so nice and it also makes you so hungry!

Ruggie: Is quite skinny because as we know Ruggie often endures difficult months. Short and messy hair, has a cheerful voice and an infectious laugh (Quite fond of pretty things in the background, but since she doesn't have much money, she can't really afford it. If she could, she would certainly treat herself to some pretty hair accessories). Perhaps an unacknowledged Tsundere side. Since she cannot feed herself properly for someone her age, she is most certainly smaller than the average for a Beast Woman. Would probably like to have a cuter look, unfortunately she can't afford it as she doesn't want to look "weak".

Jade: Holy shit, this woman is so dangerous and sweetly sadistic, if you ever pique her interest and she likes you on top of that, I'm sorry for you. Her body is certainly muscular and graceful (She also has quite incredible strength). Has long, wavy hair that she wears half-loose and is exactly the same height as her male double. Her voice and at the same time so soft and cold, you don't know if you should feel comfortable or on the contrary, run as far as possible. Obviously loves going for long hikes, (Her legs are so muscular, if she catches you with that, you won't be able to go anywhere). His tone is so teasing, you can't resist him for long.

Jamil: Very tall, even a few inches taller than her male double. Just like Trey, she smells so good, like cinnamon. Has a fairly athletic build, and remained a very, very good dancer. Very skillful, maybe makes her own wrist and ankle bracelets, also wears a lot of jewelry (not as expensive as Kalim's, but still very pretty and it shows her really well, especially the snake designs ), also wears a lot of ear piercings. His hair is very long, silky, and worn the same way as the male Jamil (maybe with extra pearls in his hair). Her voice is deep (sensual) and with a note of irony and sarcasm. Her make up apply lightly but always in such beautiful warm tones (she also highlights her cheekbones), especially with eyeliner to highlight her intense gaze.

Rook: His hair is worn in the same way as the male Rook, also wears a multitude of hats as well as pretty earrings. Likes to tease those around her, smiling and bright. Has a French accent, of course. But remains someone dangerous in the end. Is the same height as her double, is athletic, skillful and has excellent eyesight (Normal for a hunter). See beauty in everything and everyone! Don't you think you're handsome? Rook will give you ten points for why she thinks you are beautiful and why you should stop thinking that way because otherwise she will stalk you until you accept this truth. Her voice is happy and confident, deep and warm. May like to wear accessories like long socks with natural or animal designs. Specialized in throwing knives.

Ortho: So cute! The little sister you will want to protect at the risk of your life! So smart and friendly, curious too. Wears a cute fiery pixie hairstyle and has a cheerful, thin voice. Is so small and skinny.

Lilia: Oh boy ... see Draculaura from Monster Hight? She has the same look. So much into jokes, loves to surprise people to scare them. Her voice contrasts completely with her appearance since it is deep and velvety. Same size as her male double. Even though she looks so young, she still acts like a child mom. (Obviously, is always so bad in the kitchen, she brings out stuff, sometimes you are afraid that it will come to life to devour you). Despite her jokes, she is still very good advice and listens.

The rest of our boys:

Cater: If fashionable, is certainly a great influencer. Cater pays so much attention to everything, especially the little details and accessories that she wear. Makeup always on top and colorful, could become a model if she wanted. Is smaller than her male double. Joyful and higher pitched voice, her hair is a bundle of silky curls always worn in a cute way (Like Ariana Grande). (Has a multitude of fans and contenders) carefree and likes to give cute or silly nicknames to people she loves and appreciates. Would be the type to flirt with his friends for fun. Probably has a passion for nail art and would be so proud to show off her designs on her Magicam account! Would act with the first years like a big sister although she is not always good advice. She is so teasing.

Ace: Short, messy hair! Pretty tomboy style, enjoys teasing others too much for his own good, always smiling like shit and communicative. Is a sporty person, and quite arrogant, maybe also a little Tsundere side. Is a hopeless hideaway romantic. Even though she likes to do her makeup, she doesn't like taking fifteen years to do it and does the minimum required. Of course has a more feminine side when she's out of school, but honestly, feminine clothes are never practical for big movements. Act confidently but not too deep down. Her voice is happy and dynamic. Is one or two centimeters smaller than her male double. Likes to wear necklaces and chokers. Rather skinny but not as much as Ruggie.

Deuce: So sweet and so want to do her best to make her mom proud of her. Wearing long hair tied in a low ponytail, her voice is high-pitched and strong. Is quite tall (even taller than her male double). Read romance books on the sly but can't help herself when someone finds out. Probably already dyed his hair blonde during his delinquent period and dyed it before entering Night Raven College. Likes to wear barrettes in her hair, also does her best with her makeup but was not used to it before (it was mainly Ace who taught her everything she knows). Secretly loves wearing skirts and dresses, she hasn't been able to experience it before because she didn't think it would look pretty on her (But she's actually pretty). Certainly be shy and insecure when she finds new people, afraid of doing things badly. Blushes so easily that it is funny. When his delinquent side resurfaces, his voice becomes more serious, threatening, his posture leaves no room for shyness! She might want to change for the better, but that doesn't mean she's going to let others do if they want to bully her!

Jack: Do you see Jasper in the Steven Universe? You now have Jack as a woman. She is muscular and strong! The part she's most proud of is her muscular back! His silvery hair his savage and remained indomitable (But that gives him a crazy charm). Don't take shit from people and still is a Tsundere. But her wagging tail always betrayed her about her emotions, as well as her ears. Same size as her male double. Secretly loves cute things and certainly has an army of adorable stuffed animals in her room in Savanaclaw. Wears a biker style, and because she lives in a cold region with her family, she doesn't get cold easily, so her muscular arms are uncovered all the time (for your viewing pleasure 😏). Her voice is serious, so serious! But if you're friends, you definitely hear that thoughtful little note in her voice. If his male version is the Best Boy, his female version is the Best Girl! She takes care of those she loves and is always ready to help!

Floyd: Is exactly the same size as his male double. Wear her hair short cut in a boyish style (she doesn't have the time or the energy to dwell on her hair). Her voice has high notes, especially when she finds something or someone cute! Very expressive, has no filter. Like her sister, she is muscular and graceful. Her dress style could be similar to those of men in the 40's (she much prefers masculine clothes because it is more comfortable and she doesn't have to worry about her chest with large shirts. does not have to wear a bra!). Love accessories like earrings or piercings. Has immense strength and doesn't always control it. Dislikes makeup, she doesn't want to bother with it (but finds it charming on others, that's just her personal opinion). If its male version is not to be upset, it also works with its female version! Especially when it is at this time of the month, run away poor fools!

Epel: The same problem as with its male version! Except that instead of being manly, she wants us to find her sexy and not cute! All her life in her hometown has not to stop telling her that she was cute! Really ? Was she nothing else ?! She wants people she finds attractive to find her sexy, not cute! Just because she is petite, because she has big, innocent eyes and a round, youthful face, doesn't mean it's her definition of beauty or femininity! Much like her appearance, her voice is cute, slender. Her hair is long, wavy and held up with a red ribbon in an elegant manner. Compare to her male version, Vil lets her speak with her accent because it is one of her charm assets. Her face is decorated with delicate freckles. Is quite skinny with a tiny bit of shape but not a lot (let's say she has a lot more than Riddle). Epel is a little smaller than the male Epel, but not much.

Silver: She is the equivalent of Disney Princess Aurora. Except that, unlike, even if she falls asleep anywhere, she doesn't need a knight to protect her, she is her own knight! Remain a formidable swordsman! In spite of everything, remains someone calm and taciturn, very easygoing. She is very fond of animals and as they naturally flock to her, she is very happy about this fact. Wear her hair up to the shoulders and tie it in a ponytail for practice. She has a fairly toned body, but not too much. Her voice is soft and measured. She is much smaller than her male double.

Sebek: Acts hard but is so soft in the end. Looks pissed off all the time but that's just her natural expression. Wears her hair like her male version, and is the same size. Her voice carries so far, it's very impressive the first time you hear her! It is a bit sharp, but not in an unpleasant way. Carries so much esteem and respect towards Malleus, she would also like so much to be like her but she would never dare to compare herself to her! Blushes so hard and so quickly if you press the right buttons, it's so funny to see her get annoyed! Her figure is quite toned and sporty.

And finally, My MC /OC /YUU: Just like his female version, he wears round glasses, is always 150cm tall and has long wavy hair. Has fairly broad shoulders and is slightly muscular without really being so. Does everything possible to make girls feel comfortable and safe in his presence! He knows how exhausting the life and daily life of women is because of societal pressures and the male gaze. He knows that because of assholes, women are afraid of men and are afraid to even be in the same room as them, so he will do his best to ensure that she never feels that way around him! And if someone has the audacity to make one of them feel these feelings, oh boy ... that person won't last long! He was raised by his mother alone, and she taught him respect, consent and righteous values. He is an ally, so rest assured 😊😉. His voice is soft and serious (Also watching him get angry and argued in French is quite impressive! The sound of Rs in his mouth sounds even more aggressive).

#Twisted boys girl!au #Girls!au #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland imagine #twisted wonderland imagines #Disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #Twst #twst x reader #Twisted boys #Savanaclaw #Heatslabyul #octavinelle #Scarabia #pomefiore #Ignihyde #Diasomnia

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annie-mit-ie · 3 years

Text

Glimpses: Part 9 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: Are you... finally having a date?

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Hey y’all! Again, I apologize for the delay but uni didn’t allow for me to have some free time to write. I’ll try to upload something earlier next week and hope you enjoy the new chapter until then! xxx

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“Wish I could've seen your beautiful face on my screen tonight, sweetheart.“ You stare at your phone. Is she… flirting? By now it’s too late, so you can’t ask Alex for help since she is already sound asleep on her side of the world. You ruffle your hair and let your head fall to the back to look at the ceiling. Taking in a deep breath, you close your eyes and consider your options. Tonight, it’s only you, your phone and Kathryn.

Unsure of what to do, you opt for the safer way and start a conversation rather than flirt with her right away, because honestly, you don’t even know what to do. “You know, we all actually hoped you guys would be able to see us, too.“

You are not sure if you blew it with that, but then again it’s not like you and Kathryn haven’t talked about things the fans think before, not that you are not one of them, but that’s a different story. She takes a while to respond and you throw your phone on the bed before lying down on your back.

Looking up at the stars on your ceiling, you reflect on what happened within the last week until your phone lights up again. You lie there for a short while waiting for Kathryn to respond and think about what plans you have for the rest of the week. You train of thought gets stopped when your phone lights up. You turn to your side to look at it and realize it lit up, yes, but this time there is no new message. Instead, additionally to lighting up, your phone starts to vibrate as hold it in your hand - a familiar face looking right at you. Yours. She is calling you. KATHRYN. On Facetime.

Shocked as you are, you throw your phone across the room and as you try to catch it you hit it again, which only makes it fly further away. You immediately jump after it and fall from your bed in the process, taking a tumble before rolling off on the floor. Typical you and you would roll your eyes at yourself right now, if only you weren’t so busy reaching out for your phone.

For a moment, you think about how you could’ve hit your head pretty hard just a second ago, but somehow your body went into god mode and you managed to roll off pretty quickly. Phone in hand you are lying on the floor, all sprawled out as the time runs out to pick up the call. Gladly, you remember you should and take it as you still lie on the floor.

“Kathryn?“, you try to catch your breath. “Sweetheart, HEY!“, you catch a glimpse of her as you’re getting up to sit on your chair and hear her laugh. “What exactly are you doing, Y/N? You look… You are a mess, honey! WHAT HAPPENED?“

You immediately stop in your motion and look at her while running a hand through your hair trying to look more presentable. “I…“, you stutter. “I… I.. My phone… Floor. I had to… It’s…“

“Sweetheart you gotta take a breath for me now.“, she looks at you concerned.

“Yes, thank you Kathryn, yes. Hello there! I’m sorry. I might’ve hit my head actually. I’m not sure.“ She smiles once again while she is looking at you with her warm, blue eyes, as she gives you another minute to calm down after you ramble. “Well, I’m glad I get to see you now. I hate those one sided video things, especially since I’ve missed your face.“ She winks.

“You saw me like… 5 days ago. You’ll live.“ You can’t help but laugh at her antics once again and the both of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment until she breaks it. “Anyway, I am calling because I wanted to know if you will come and spend some time in my garden again this weekend.“ The words leave her mouth and you hear her but your brain seems unable to comprehend what is being said. How can this be your life right now?

While you are caught up in your thoughts Kathryn continues talking. “I promise this time we’ll stay at my place. No surprise gigs or anything to attend. Just the gals hanging out.“ You want to ask her if this is a date, you really do, but you can’t get yourself to be bold like that. Instead you just shoot her a wide smile as she waits for your answer and nod. “Yes! Absolutely! I mean… We never got to finish that bottle of wine we opened, so…“

Now it’s her turn to nod and you both fall silent again. Even though you are fully comfortable sitting in silence and just spending time with her in real life, it feels different on Facetime. Kathryn seems to notice rather quickly and breaks the silence again.

“Well, Sweetheart. I’ll let you go because I’m sure you’ve got other things to do. I will send you details for the weekend as soon as I know what my schedule looks like and then I’ll have Peter pick you up again?“

“That sounds amazing!…“ And you should've stopped there but at the same time you feel a little adventurous, so you throw a common phrase in there that Alex uses any chance she gets. Realizing you could always say you don’t mean it that way makes it even easier - after all Kathryn doesn’t know you actually do. “It’s a date!“

Her smile turns into a wide grin. “It’s a date. I’ll see you on Saturday then.“

“Not if I see you first.“

—

You don’t see her first. Kathryn would never admit it, but she is in fact very nervous and paces up and down the house waiting for you. She fully cleaned all of it last night already, knowing that you would come over today.

When she hears Peter and you arrive with the car, she walks up to the front door immediately and opens it right as you exit the car. You're wearing a flow-y summer dress again and your hair falls your shoulders in beautiful curls. A pair of sunglasses is propped up on top of your head and she can see you squinting your eyes against the sun.

Kathryn is leaning against the door frame as Peter sees you off and the two of you laugh about a dad joke he makes. She likes how you get along with everyone around her so well and her heart skips a beat as you turn around and your eyes meet. She is beautiful. A dark green pantsuit, that Kathryn combined with a white shirt (including the rolled up sleeves, of course), is hanging loosely off her shoulder. Her hair is in its usual curly mess and slowly moves in the wind as a fresh breeze hits her face.

Faster than anticipated you make your way up to her and wrap her up into a hug that, according to your consideration, is a little bit longer than a usual hug. She holds onto you just as tight and her hand wanders up to the back of your neck. When you finally let go of earth other you forget to put distance between your bodies again, so you find yourself just a couple inches away from her face once again.

“You look… stunning.“ She says as her hand softly pushes back a strand of hair behind your right ear.

“THANK YOU!“, you say in a high pitched voice as your eyes widen because of how embarrassing that voice raise was. “You look beautiful as always yourself, Kathryn.“

The smile on her face tells you that the compliment is sitting very well with her and you decide to keep a bit of the mystery, so you brush against her as you walk inside the house and make your way to the door thats leading to the garden.

Stunned, Kathryn stays in the doorframe for a moment before following you out onto the patio. She reaches you before you can reach the seating area because you purposefully strolled a little and appreciated the beauty of her backyard.

“I love your dress! That color and fit is just… you look beautiful, Y/N.“ You blush and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her as she has just caught up to you. The two of you have reached the couch and she offers you to sit first and makes sure you have a drink and everything you need before she makes herself comfortable. Just like last time, she sits down across from you first, keeping the mystery and all.

The Kathryn you get to meet now is not that much different from the Kathryn you met within the last two weeks. She is funny and open and, if anything has changed, then it is the fact that she is much more relaxed without all the other people around.

As she tells you about her latest interview fails and gives you inside on her life, you can’t help but fall for her a little more, especially whenever she throws her head back as she laughs wholeheartedly.

When it’s your turn to tell stories, you tell her about your childhood hobbies and how does might effect your future. She is very interested in arts and you immediately agree to meet up again to create something together. Talking about how you spend your free time, you finally mention Alex and talk about how fast she became your best friend. Just as always, she makes you feel like you are the most important person on the planet as you talk and somehow you feel like Alex becomes important to her as well, the moment you talk about how important she is to you.

With every glass she pours, Kathryn scooches a little closer to you until your knees nearly touch. Whenever you laugh about a joke, she reaches out to put her right hand on your leg and as you finish the first bottle of wine and she decides to order pizza as the sun starts to set, she plops down right next to you after getting the menu off the kitchen table.

Being fully comfortable with her now, you let yourself sink into her shoulder as the two of you browse the pizza names to see what you want to order. Luckily, you make a decision rather quickly while Kathryn needs some time, so you can enjoy the moment of closeness for a little while longer.

For the very first time, you realize how good her hair smells and how calming her aura is. You close your eyes to take it all in and smile to yourself about the sheer happiness that you are feeling in this very moment.

Kathryn notices how calm you have gotten and leans back as her left arm sneakily finds its way across your shoulder to hold you close to her. Leaning back into the couch, she pulls you with her and the both of you sit in silence as you listen to her heartbeat.

After a while, you hear a deep growl and Kathryn gets startled out of her meditational state. “Oh I’m sorry! I must be hungrier than I thought I am.“

She takes out her arm from behind you again and reaches for the menu and her phone to call the delivery service. When the pizza arrives and she comes back from the front door, she sits down on the other side of the couch once again and you immediately miss being by her side.

The pizza is nice, maybe even the best pizza you’ve had from any delivery service before, and by the time you finished eating, the sun has fully set. Not sure how she is going to react, you fiddle with your fingers for a moment before making a proposal.

“I.. actually arranged something. I looked up Peter’s agency and asked for his number and asked him if he could take us somewhere tonight. I mean.. If you’d wanna go?“

Once again speechless, Kathryn looks at you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows as her face is beaming from excitement. “Absolutely! Do we… need anything or are we good to go right away?“ It’s nice that she wants to help, but she doesn’t have to. Alex and you have planned for this very moment all week and talked it all through several times, so that Peter and you could arrange the surprise for Kathryn.

You help her up from the couch and lead her back into the house, where a filled basket, that has magically appeared, is waiting at the front door. Peter is already waiting in the car ready to take you to the stars.

It’s a rather short drive as he takes you to a little meadow on a hill where you can look over Los Angeles in between rocks and trees and actually see the stars as well. Naturally, he stays in the car and ready a book as the two of you walk up to the corner of the hill, where a small spot suggests that lots of couples have spent some time there.

“This is perfect, Y/N. I….“ She looks at you before looking up at the night sky and stops talking as she feels your eyes on her. Your fingers on the blanket are close enough to hers that you can feel her warmth and you slowly move them closer. Neither of you breaks eye contact as your hands touch and a tingles move through all of your body.

You bite the inside of your lower lip in anticipation as you cup her hand with yours completely. Giving it one last squeeze, you let go and cup her face instead. Slowly, you move closer until you can feel her breath on your lips. Looking into her eyes for one last time, you overcome the remaining inches and capture her lips in a longing kiss as your hands find their way into her long hair.

Leaning into the kiss with a little too much force, combined with the fact that she is so focused on the way you make her feel, makes her lose balance and she falls backwards onto the blanket. Before you can do anything about it, you find yourself on top of Kathryn who is grinning and goes in for yet another kiss. Now she is the one who is holding onto you and her hands glide all over your body as she takes no measures to get you off of her.

You make out with her in that position for a short moment, before she stops in her tracks. “We can’t. Not like that. Not out here. I’m sorry, Sweetheart.“

“Oh no, don’t be sorry. You are absolutely right.“ You smile and kiss her shortly for one last time before getting off of her. “Let’s go back home? It’s getting rather cold anyway.“

“Home? Are you… Staying over tonight?“ She looks at you, unsure of what to expect.

For a moment you consider if you should play it save, but thinking about everything that happened tonight, you decide to go into full offense and shoot your shot while you wink at her. “Well, Ms. Hahn. Seems like you are asking me to stay, so I might as well.“

She looks at you and you can tell she is biting her lip before she looks back at the lights in front of her as she grabs your hand. “Please stay, Y/N. I would love that.“

#kathryn hahn #kathryn hahn x reader #Kathryn Hahn x You #Kathryn Hahn Fanfiction #Kathryn Hahn fan fiction #groupie #groupie au

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oikawaplssteponme · 3 years

Text

Incomparable Beauty

pairing: Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: sfw, mention of insecurities

genre/AU: fluff, light academia (?) [i highly recommend imagining Izuku in light academia fashion, including some glasses ;) ], aged up characters [third-years]

word count: ~3.4K

synopsis: The young and talented photographer, Izuku Midoriya, is searching for a muse for his next entry in an art gallery. Of course, there seems to be one person who inspires him most of all.

a/n: hi hi <3 shoutout to my lovely 🍥 and ☕️ anons for requesting/helping me figure out this izuku fluff! i am really proud of this so i hope you all like it <3 reblogs are super helpful and id love to hear your thoughts on it. enjoy xx

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Izuku Midoriya looked up at the golden-pink sky. He stared into the abyss, hoping to think of something worth capturing. He adjusted the thin glasses that rested upon his face. He sighed and sat up, grabbing his notebook. Inside were hundreds of scribbles, sketches, and ideas that never seemed good enough. He looked to his right, where his camera laid. He wished that it could just take the pictures itself and create something jaw dropping. Still, a camera is nothing without a photographer. Furthermore, a photographer is nothing without a muse.

Izuku gathered his things as he headed back inside, making his way to his dorm. He was frustrated. He only had one week left to submit something into the Tokyo Gallery for Promising Artists, and even then it wasn't a guarantee that he would be selected. Maybe he should send an old piece he thought. He did have a few that he was proud of, but unfortunately, none of them fit the required theme of the gallery.

Izuke had his hands full as he attempted to open his dorm room door. You were making your way up the stairs when you spotted him. Izuku dropped his notebook, loose pages now scattered across the floor. You rushed over.

“Great…” he sighed. You quietly began to pick up the sheets of papers. Izuku froze.

“Midoriya, here,” you smiled, handing him his notebook. His cheeks flushed a rosy pink. He took his notebook back with shaky hands.

“Thank you Y/N.”

“Is all that for the gallery? I heard that you were entering,” you smiled. Izuku chuckled.

“It is but by the looks of it, I won’t be submitting anything. I still haven't come up with anything good enough,” he explained.

“Well don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure inspiration will strike you soon enough,” you reassured him, “you’re a brilliant photographer after all.”

Izuku's face was now a bright red. He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

“T-Thank you again. Well-uh- goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Izuku.”

You walked away to your dorm as Izuku entered his own. He set all his things down and began to fan his burning face. He has known you for about three years now, yet he still can’t find the courage to get closer to you. You flustered him to no end, without even trying. Your voice, your smile, your laugh, your heart; Midoriya simply couldn’t get enough. You were so beautiful in all ways possible.

Midoriya looked at the printed flair pinned to his wall.

Those interested in applying to the Tokyo Art Gallery must follow the theme below in order to be considered.

The prompt read as follows:

‘Capture beauty in its purest form.’

Beauty, thought Izuku. Almost everything is beautiful. The way the sun rises and falls each day is beautiful. How Inko called Izuku every night at exactly 7:30 was beautiful. The friendships that Izuku cherished were beautiful. Then, there was you. Izuku’s mind couldn’t help but wonder to the thought of you in relation to beauty. Now you were truly beautiful.

Izuku soon had an idea.

The following day you found yourself sitting on one of the garden benches. Your classes were finished and you decided that some fresh air might do you some good. You basked in the warm sunlight, as if you were a precious flower that needed it to survive.

Izuku figured that you would be in the academy garden, so he made his way over there. His camera hung around his neck as he held tightly onto his notebook. With a shaky hand, Izuku tapped your shoulder.

“H-Hi Y/N,” he smiled nervously. You greeted him happily, gesturing for him to join you on the bench.

“Hi! Something wrong?” you questioned. Izuku looked like he was sick.

“Oh no, nothing’s wrong. I just-uh- wanted to ask you something…”

“Alright, what is it?”

Izuku set down his notebook next to his side. He held his hands together staring at them.

“Could I take your picture for the Tokyo Gallery?”

Your eyes widened at his request. The best and most handsome photographer in all of UA Academy of the Arts wanted to take your picture.

“You want to take a picture of me? I-I’m no model Izuku…”

“You’ll do great! I have this idea in my mind and it has to be with you.”

Now you were the nervous one. You weren’t one who particularly liked getting their picture taken.

“What if I mess it up? I’d hate to be the reason you don’t get accepted…”

“If those critics reject me, they’re just dumb. I promise it would have nothing to do with you. Please Y/N?” Izuku carefully took your hand with his and stared deep into your eyes. Gosh, how could you say no to him when he looked at you like that.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you smiled. Izuku squeezed your hand and jumped up from where he sat.

“Thank you Y/N! I promise it will be perfect. Mind if we shoot tomorrow?”

“That sounds good to me.” Izuku smiled so brightly he outshined the sun. He grabbed his things once more.

“Meet me here at noon tomorrow. Try to wear a neutral colored shirt, okay?” he said. You nodded.

“Okay.”

Izuku ran off, leaving you alone in the garden. You soon felt a large pit in the bottom of your stomach.

You stood before the full length mirror of your dorm. You stepped closer to it, examining every detail of you being. A photoshoot? Not only that, but a photoshoot of just you. No way to hide behind anyone or fade into the background. It would be a picture of you. The pit in your stomach only grew. You stared into the mirror, almost hoping the reflection would change into someone else. Someone who would appear beautiful in an enlarged image. Certainly Izuku could’ve asked any other girl to be his model, but insisted that it had to be you. You didn’t understand why. You didn’t view yourself as beautiful in any form. So how could he?

It was close to noon and you should be heading to the garden to meet Izuku. You put on a neutral colored tank top as Izuku requested and finished applying some natural makeup. Your hands shook as you held the brushes. Hopefully your nerves would cease by the time you got to the garden.

Izuku had been setting up since early in the morning. He created a handmade crown of white baby’s breath for you to wear and arranged his backdrop. He set up his lighting and sun reflectors exactly where he wanted. You had been standing by one of the bushes for a few minutes, afraid to interrupt him. He was so in his element. The sleeves to his button down rolled up to his elbows. His dark sunglasses covering his eyes. His beige colored paints stained green at the hem from working in the grass, same with his off-white sneakers. You honestly thought he looked beautiful.

“Hi Izuku,” you said. Izuku jumped then turned to look at you.

“Oh Y/N you’re here, perfect! Y-You look great,” he smiled. Your face grew warm.

“Oh thank you. So, what’s the plan?” Izuku moved his sunglasses to his forehead, pushing back his fluffy green hair.

“So, your job is fairly simple. I’m gonna have you sit on this stool and hold onto this bouquet of flowers. Since it's just me out here I’ll be messing around with the equipment until I find the right lighting and all that. All you need to do is keep the pose I tell you to, okay?” he explained. You nodded.

“What is the theme for this year’s gallery?” you asked. Midoriya flinched.

“Oh it’s um...nature…” he muttered. Nature? Why doesn’t he just take a picture of a tree and call it good? What does he need you for, you wondered.

Izuku set down the stool in front of the garden wall and you sat down. He grabbed the bouquet and handed it to you. He then placed the crown uptop of your head. He carefully arranged it to rest effortlessly on you. His nimble fingers were delicate as they touched your head, then moved to your cheek without him thinking. Izuku’s index finger now rested under your chin as you looked up at him. With a burning face and widened eyes, you wished to never look away. Out of flustering embarrassment, Izuku took his hand back.

“Yeah um so for the pose I’d like you to be looking slightly to the side with your chin tilted up just as I had it. Then with the flowers have them close to your cheek. I’ll probably tell you to switch out poses here and there but that's a good place to start. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Izuku walked back and grabbed his camera. Your heart was pounding out of your chest. You tried to keep yourself calm with a few deep breaths.

“Ready?” asked Izuku. You nodded.

“Ready.”

The first click of the camera and flashing lights was the most startling. You soon got used to it, following whatever instructions Izuku gave you. You moved your head and hand placement, soon feeling more comfortable with everything.

“Yes that's perfect...keep doing that…” Izuku blurted out whatever thoughts came to his mind as he captured you on film. His encouragement was honestly what made your heart race.

“Now lower the bouquet so I can see your pretty face…yeah just like that Y/N…”

Midoriya didn’t even realize what he had said until the words left his mouth, but he didn’t care. He meant it.

“Okay now open your eyes and look slightly towards me, parting your lips a bit…”

Izuku snapped the picture then froze. He looked down at the small digital image.

“So beautiful…”

“Hmm?” You questioned. Izuku snapped out of the trance that he was in. He chuckled nervously.

“OH-the pictures look really good that's all. I think we are good,” he said. You let out a sigh.

“Oh good. That was honestly pretty exhausting.”

“I really appreciate you letting me use you for the gallery. I already know the final product is gonna turn out amazing,” he cheered. You smiled.

“It’ll be amazing because you are amazing,” you said. Izuku blushed.

“So are you.”

You took off the crown and returned the flowers to Midoriya. You helped him put away his equipment before the two of you headed back inside.

“Um Y/N, did you maybe want to grab something to eat?” he asked. You smiled.

“I’d love to, just let me change first,” you chuckled.

“Oh yeah of course.”

You dropped off the equipment at Izuku’s dorm before heading to your own. You slipped on a green sweater and some sweatpants before finding him again.

You and Izuku went to the dinning hall, each of you picking up a bowl of ramen. You decided to eat outside on the balcony.

“How do you think the pictures turned out?” you asked.

“Honestly, really good. You did amazing,” he smiled. You looked down at your food.

“I was honestly super nervous for them. Couldn’t you tell?”

“Not at all! You were a natural out there! I really think this will be some of my best work yet,” said Izuku.

“I’d love to go to the gallery with you,” you whispered. Izuku’s eyes widened.

“I was planning on taking you regardless,” he replied, “thank you by the way.”

You tilted your head.

“For what?”

“For always believing in me. I probably wouldn’t be a photographer if it weren’t for you.”

In Izuku’s first year, he was at the bottom of his class. He knew he wanted to do photography, but couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. He was so frustrated one day that he even said that he would be dropping out and quitting forever. You convinced him not to, to keep trying. You saw his talent when no one else could. Even when he couldn’t. From that day forward, Izuku worked to become the best young photographer in all of the Shizuoka Prefecture.

“Well I knew that you could do it, and I was right,” you teased.

“You’re great Y/N, seriously,” he said. You looked at Izuku, your face growing hot.

“I don’t know about that…”

“What? Come on, you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re talented, and you always seem to know what to say. You’re incomparable.”

“To what?”

“To anything. You’re incomparable to anything because you’re you.”

Midoriya had to stop himself from saying anymore, for fear of spilling his whole heart before you. He meant it however. Nobody compares to you.

You swirled your noodles around in their bowl. The pounding in your chest came back. You locked eyes with Izuku.

“You’re incomparable too.”

Izuku spent every waking moment arranging his piece for submission to the gallery. He was always found in the art room, either photoshopping or preparing the flowers to be pressed. Once the image of you was edited to his liking, he developed a large scale version of the picture. He enjoyed putting the pieces together. From hand pressing the flowers to finding the perfect frame to keep it all in, he has created a masterpiece. All thanks to his muse.

You roamed the empty halls of the school in search of Izuku. You hadn’t seen him all day, assuming he would be in the art room. It was late, he honestly should be asleep. You stood in front of the art room door and carefully opened it up.

Izuku was fast asleep on one of the desks. The large photograph was wrapped and ready to be sent to Tokyo. You quietly walked over to him, tapping his shoulder.

“Izuku? It's late, you should go to your dorm,” you whispered. Izuku groaned. He opened his eyes and stretched his arms out.

“What time is it?” he yawned. You chuckled.

“Close to eleven. You should get some actual rest. You have to go to Tokyo pretty early tomorrow.”

“R-Right...the gallery…”

You could hear the exhaustion behind his voice. You grabbed his hand, helping him up.

“Come on, let's go.” You held Izuku’s hand as he lazily walked to the dorms. You led him to his room.

“Goodnight Y/N…”

“Goodnight Izuku,” you smiled. Izuku scratched his messy hair, giving you a weak smile. Without thinking, you leaned in placing a quick kiss on his cheek, before rushing to your own dorm.

Izuku stared at the letter on his desk. He had received it hours ago yet was too nervous to check. It was addressed to him by the Tokyo Art Gallery.

He took a deep breath and grabbed the letter opener from his desk, carefully gliding it across the envelope. He took out the folder paper and opened it up. Izuku ran to your room.

You jumped from your bed when you heard the pounding on your door.

“Izuku? Everything okay?”

He didn’t say anything, simply handing you the letter.

“Is this…?”

“Read it.”

You caught your breath, peaking at the paper.

‘Dear Mr. Midoriya,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Tokyo Art Gallery for Promising Artists! Your piece titled…’

You didn’t finish reading the letter. Instead, you jumped into Izuku’s arms.

“I knew you’d make it! I’m so proud of you!” you cheered. Izuku hugged you tightly, laughing with joy.

“It’s all thanks to you, I couldn’t do it without you,” he whispered. You looked at Izuku, your hands on his shoulder as he held onto your waist. His face blushed red.

“Oh sorry-” he mumbled, removing his grip from you. Your face burned.

“I-It’s okay...congratulations Izuku. You did it,” you smiled. Izuku took your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“We did it.”

It was the day of the gallery showing. You were beyond excited to see all the beautiful artwork, specifically Izuku’s. You still hadn’t seen the final product.

You were dressed and ready, waiting for Izuku.

“Sorry I’m late-”

Izuku came rushing down the stairs to meet you. He looked devilishly handsome in his light grey suit and black turtleneck underneath. He prompted for some beat up black sneakers today.

“That's alright… you look nice,” you smiled. Izuku blushed.

“Says you..you look...wow…” He could barely form a sentence you were so breathtaking.

“Oh stop…”

“Shall we?” Izuku held out his arm for you to take. You did happily.

“We shall.”

The two of you rode the train to Tokyo, arriving at the gallery just before it was open to the public.

“Mr. Midoriya,” said one of the gallery workers, “your art is on the third floor.”

“Thank you.” You and Izuku made your way up the stairs, searching the room for the photo.

“Oh here it is,” smiled Izuku. The large photo was covered up and had velvet rope to stop anyone from getting too close.

“Wow, they must’ve liked yours!” you exclaimed. Izuku blushed.

“Well I didn’t tell you but it actually got nominated for best portrait of the gallery…”

“WHAT? Izuku, that's amazing!” you gushed.

“Yeah so some judges will take a look at it later on and hopefully we win…”

“Doesn’t matter if we win or not. I know it's the best one here,” you smiled.

You soon heard footsteps make their way up to the third floor.

“Showtime,” whispered Izuku. You took a step back from the portrait and watched as Izuku removed the curtain that covered it. The room filled with awes.

Izuku decided to go with the last picture that he took, the one where you seemed to have taken his breath away. You were entirely in black and white, only color coming from the flowers atop of your head and in your hand. Also, the pressed flowers that surrounded you. Izuku covered up the garden wall with pressed roses, daisies, lilies, and sunflowers. You looked like an angel.

You took a few steps towards the picture, reading its title.

‘Incomparable Beauty’ - Izuku Midoriya

You couldn’t seem to find the words, none of them seemed to be right. You backed away from the portrait before bumping into someone.

“Oh I’m sorry-” you said. They smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. Wait...you’re the model in that photo,” they replied. You gulped.

“Um yeah I am…”

“Well tell your photographer that they did an excellent job, really captured the gallery theme.”

“The nature theme?” you questioned. They tilted their head.

“No, the theme was ‘Beauty in its Purest Form’. Really great work.”

Your eyes widened.

“Uh-excuse me-”

You began to shuffle through the crowd of people. Izuku noticed you make your way towards the exit.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

Izuku followed you down the stairs. You rushed outside, breathing in the fresh air. Izuku grabbed onto your arm.

“Y/N what's wrong?” pleaded Izuku, “did you not like it?”

You shook your head. Tears began to gather in the corners of your eyes.

“No Izuku, I loved it. I really loved it,” you sniffled. Midoriya felt a wave of relief wash over him.

“Why did you run?”

“Because...I didn’t recognize myself...I looked-”

“Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he interrupted.

“Y-You think I’m beautiful?” you cried. Izuku wiped away your stray tears.

“Y/N, I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world, inside and out. Y-You’re my muse.”

Izuku cupped your face as you tried to hold back anymore tears.

“You made me look beautiful…”

“No Y/N, you are beautiful. I simply clicked the camera.”

Izuku pulled you into a tight hug, holding the back of your head gently. There was something about the way Izuku made you feel. As if you were the only girl in the world.

“I love you,” you whispered. Izuku’s eyes grew. He moved to face you, a smile creeping onto his face.

“I love you.”

Izuku placed his hand onto your cheek, feeling your soft skin. He began to inch closer to you. You couldn’t wait anymore, the anticipation killing you. You collided your lips with his, wrapping your arms around him. He had one hand on the small of your back as the other held the back of your head. Izuku took mental pictures of this moment, wishing to relive it over and over again. The warmth between the two of you in contrast to the cold air that surrounded you. It was a tornado of emotions.

You looked at Izuku, both of your faces burning and you attempted to catch your breath. You pressed your foreheads together, chuckling softly. Izuku kissed your forehead.

“You really are incomparable.”

•

[MHA taglist: @bibly @big-phat-cat @sapphoscolonoscopy @luluwiie @happyheartsss @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @misszenin @marajillana @sopesmin @alaina-rose13 @shotoful @runrabbitrun3 @katlingclaw @nerdypuppytimemachine ]

#willow.🌸#mha #bnha #my hero academia #deku x you #mha deku #deku x y/n #deku x reader #deku x female reader #mha izuku #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku x you #bnha izuku #izuku x y/n #izuku fluff #izuku midoriya x you #izuku midoriya x reader

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onmykneesforhotdilfs · 3 years

Text

Tilt

Bloom smiled as a butler offered her a crystal glass filled with, what she assumed was, very expensive champagne. She nodded gratefully as she took a sip, and then promptly had to physically stop herself from spitting it right back out. Either the champagne wasn’t as good as she expected or officials of Isis simply decided to serve something from the supermarket, while hoping that no one would notice. Then again, Bloom mused, it might just be that my taste buds are so used to the $10 wine so everything fancier just tastes like crap.

She shook her head and crossed her arms underneath the bustier of her skintone, off the shoulder gown with baby blue flowers scattered across the top and sporadically across the skirt as well. The nude color made her appear more tan than she actually was and while the dress was indeed very beautiful, it was just as uncomfortable. Bloom winced as shifting weight from one stiletto clad foot to another sent white hot signal of pain when one of the wires supporting her bustier stabbed her in the ribs. She bit the inside of her cheek to in order to stop herself from simply burning the fabric.

A cheerful laugh of her best friend snapped her out of her trance. Stella emerged from the mass of bodies on the dancefloor, her asymmetrical off shoulder gown highlighting every curve on her body perfectly. Long purple sleeve blended with yellow in a way Bloom didn’t even deem possible considering how different two colors are. Her other arm, that was completely sleeveless, sported some golden jewelry and floor length gown swept the floor elegantly with Stella’s every step. She was holding the same glass, filled with same champagne as Bloom, with her well manicured fingers. As soon as Stella was within arm’s reach, she grabbed Bloom’s elbow and leaned close to her, smile completely disappeared from her face.

“This stuff is absolutely disgusting.” Stella spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oh really?” Bloom asked as smirk slowly rose on her lips. “And here I thought you preferred this,” she lifted a fancy glass into the air, “over my cheap wine.”

“Anything is better than this, for the lack of a better word, crap.” Stella scoffed. “This would’ve never happened on Solaria.” She tilted the glass once again to take a sip in hope it somehow started tasting better but ended up disappointed. Bloom almost laughed at Stella’s expression. “But then again, should I have expected anything more from a planet Diaspro came from?”

Bloom almost winced at the mention of a woman that had the ability to mess up her relationship with Sky like no other. The latest stunt she pulled, thanks to Valtor, only made Bloom more angry at everybody that turned a blind eye to her actions simply because she is a princess. It was only then that the thought occurred to her, that Diaspro might be here and that she might ruin their mission. She glanced nervously around the hall, panicking more the longer she couldn’t find her.

Stella, recognizing Bloom’s ‘two breaths away from having a panic attack' look on her face, was quick to put a calming hand on her shoulder. Bloom recoiled slightly but Stella gripped the flesh lightly in order to ground her. She leaned closer to whisper in Bloom’s ear. “Relax, she’s not here. Apparently her parents don’t allow her to go to events where his highness, prince Sky of Eraklyon, might be present.”

Sarcasm was obvious in Stella’s voice but it served the purpose of calming Bloom to the point where she actually start thinking lucidly again.

Bloom took a deep breath as her shoulders slouched slightly forward. “Thank you.” She whispered to Stella. Then, the actual sentences Stella was saying caught up to her and her eyebrows touched her hairline in obvious amusement. “Still angry at Sky I see?”

Stella snorted and wrinkled her nose at the mention of Sky’s name. “If you were smarter, you’d be angry too.”

“Hey!” Bloom yelped angrily but settled down quickly as she looked away. “I am angry at him.”

“Apparently not enough.” Stella gripped the glass so hard her knuckles turned white. “I mean, what’s up with him suddenly becoming a poster boy and actually listening to what his daddy says?”

“Well, technically, Sky’s meeting with Diaspro or her parents might cause interplanetary scandal between Eraklyon and Isis.” Bloom spoke in Techna's voice.

Stella’s lip twitched. “Still, interplanetary scandal or a potential threat of one never actually stopped him from going against orders before. So my question still remains.”

“Any sign of Valtor?” Bloom asked, hoping to divert the route of conversation.

“I just spoke to Techna. He hasn’t been detected and Amplificarum is still safely locked in the vault.”

“He’ll show up eventually.” Bloom nodded absentmindedly. “He always does.”

“See this, this right here,” Stella pointed to the marble floor and Bloom lowered her gaze to the direction her finger was indicating but furrowed her brows when she found nothing. “This is why Sky should be here.” Bloom’s lips shaped into a thin line whe she realized what she was talking about as Stella continued to rant. “Isn’t he concerned that Valtor might attack and something might happen to you?”

Bloom gasped. “I’m not some… damsel in distress that needs saving Stella!” She scoffed. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

“C’mon Bloom, don’t give me that.”

“Well what do you want me to say Stell? That I’m angry? Disappointed? Fine. I’m disappointed that Sky chose to follow the order from his father when I wanted him to come with me. He most certainly could've found another solution but he did nothing. Instead he left me to face, potentially Diaspro and Valtor alone. There! Was that enough? Are you happy now?” Bloom’s cheeks were red by the time she finished her rant as her chest continued rising up and down in order to return much needed oxygen into her lungs, her exhaustion more due to stress than the actual rant.

Stella smiled and patted Bloom on the shoulder. “There you go. Now was that so hard to say?”

“What?”

“Nevermind that, anyway, be sure to tell him that next time, ok?”

Bloom rolled her eyes but a smile threatened to spread on her face. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Mhm, that’s why you love me so much.” Stella spoke with an obvious pride evident in her voice.

“Yeah, let’s just say you’re lucky I do.” Bloom shook her head and grabbed Stella’s elbow as she spotted a familiar short brown hair emerging from the crowd. “There’s Brandon.” She turned to Stella and pointed to where she saw him. “Go bother him for a while.”

Stella pouted and stuck her tongue out playfully at Bloom but strutted off towards her boyfriend, leaving Bloom alone.

With Stella gone, all of Bloom’s physical discomfort came rushing back and hitting her like a rogue train. Her feet ached, her head started hurting from the tight updo and she was pretty sure the wire that poked her in the ribs has punctured her skin. She felt the tender area with her opposite hand as much as she dared and exhaled short puff of air when she found nothing. She wanted to sit down or maybe even lay down and then not move for a few days.

She shook her head and took a sip of her disgusting drink in order to wake herself up. She looked around the dancefloor, automatically finding Stella and Brandon as they swayed to the rhythm. Techna and Timmy were huddled in the corner probably discussing something about technology. Musa and Riven were also in the corner, be it on the opposite side from Techna, which greatly surprised Bloom because Musa was more often than not first on the dancefloor alongside Layla (though club suited them more, but the two always found a way to fit in anywhere), but right now dancefloor seemed like the last place Musa wanted to be. Instead, fairy of music was busy glaring daggers at her boyfriend that seemed to pay little to no attention to them.

Bloom rolled her eyes at the two of them (not that her and Sky were any better) and focused on finding Layla that also, surprisingly, decided to go solo on this mission. She found her talking to some Isis official that she probably knew due to her status. With Layla’s position in mind, bloom turned to finding the last couple but Flora and Helia were nowhere to be found so Bloom assumed they were probably taking a stroll in the garden.

With those in mind, Bloom once again diverted her eyes from the dancefloor and looked at the champagne bubbling in her glass as her thoughts ran over the information she remembered about Amplificarum.

Apparently, the green stone, by physical appearance almost indistinguishable from emerald, had the power to magnify any spells or beams aimed at something. Or someone, Bloom thought. It was most commonly used for protection spells and it generally wasn’t meant for offensive spellwork. Bloom somehow had doubts Valtor will use it for protection spells. The sheer thought of chaos that could potentially happen if such artifact ever fell into Valtor’s, or anyone’s wrong hands, made Bloom shudder all over and grip her champagne glass bit tighter. That can never be allowed to happen. It’s why you’re here. There’s no way he will be able to slip in and out undetected with eleven pairs of eyes looking for him.

Bloom couldn’t deny that Valtor is the most powerful, and quite frankly the most cunning, villain they ever had the pleasure of meeting. What irked her to the point of madness, however, was the fact that Valtor always seemed to be one step ahead of them.

The battles are like chess game. Daphne’s voice sounded in her head. In order to defeat your opponent you have to figure out their strategy. You have to master the art of reading their moves and find a way to turn the odds in your favor.

It was not hard to guess who played certain roles in this game though. She was an amateur, an amateur that was loosing valuable chess pieces battle after battle whereas Valtor was a professional that suffered minor losses here and there but still had the most prized figurines in the game. It didn’t take a professional chess player to see that the odds were most definitely not in Bloom’s favor.

He’ll slip sooner or later. Bloom thought with a smile. Even Valtor can make a mistake. And it takes only a second, a slip of concentration, a lapse in judgment and the board will tilt in our direction. Even an amateur can get lucky and stometimes, the pawn can be the most powerful piece capable of settling the final score, so don’t sell yourself short.

Bloom was so distracted by her mental pep talk that she failed to notice one of the guests approach.

“This stuff they’re serving us,” Bloom jumped as a deep melodic voice rang out next to her. “it’s not something I expected from Isis royal court.”

The stranger came to stand almost arm to arm with her, but she also noticed she was almost two heads shorter than him.

“In a good, or a bad way?” Bloom asked with a frown. The stranger has short brown hair styled to a perfection, not even a hair out of place. From what she could see from the side without being too obvious, she noticed he had perfectly straight nose and an overall boyish appearance.

The stranger lifted one of his eyebrows curiously. “Have you tried that?” He pointed to her glass.

“Yes.”

“And how does it taste?”

“Like a hair conditioner.”

He nodded approvingly. “Interesting comparison. Not inaccurate though. Well Miss, I think you just answered your own question.”

Despite all odds, Bloom found herself smiling at stranger’s antics and clever quips. “I am sorry but I don’t think I got your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you.”

Okay, rude.

“Well,” she forced out, “would you be so kind to give me your name then?” Bloom really hoped her smile was more convincing than her words.

“There’s no need, Bloom. You already know my name.” Bloom’s smile vanished as the man finally turned to face her, the unique icy colored eyes she only saw on one particular individual looking straight into her wider-than-dinnerplates blue ones. She felt a bead of sweat roll down the thin column of her neck and disappear into her cleavage.

Bloom gulped.

Valtor smirked.

“You!” was the only thing that came out of her mouth.

He shook his head, his eyebrows set in a frown as he let out a disappointed huff. “That is not my name princess. You might wish to try again.”

“What are you doing here, Valtor?” Bloom managed through gritted teeth.

“Oh so you do remember.” Valtor smirked like the cat who got all the cream. “Good. Otherwise I would have to remind you and I really don’t want to spoil anyone’s evening.”

“As if you need me, or anyone, for that!” Bloom whisper-yelled as her eyes darted desperately across the room, trying to locate her team.

“Now now,” Valtor cooed, “it is not polite to look away from the person you’re having a conversation with, Bloom. Someone should’ve taught you proper manners.”

Bloom gasped as she felt the dragon fire raging in her chest, the effect much more intense than she’s ever experienced before. She swayed slightly on her feet and she raised her unoccupied arm to clutch lightly at her chest. The world was spinning in front of her eyes and just as she feared she might topple over, one of Valtor’s large hands grasped her bicep and the forest fire that burned in her turned into smoldering ashes.

Bloom leaned slightly on her side, Valtor’s arm acting like an anchor as she fought to regain her breath.

“What,” she rasped out, her voice hoarse like she just inhaled smoke, “was that?”

“Just a reminder that you should not antagonize me.” Valtor’s voice was cold and sharp and it made her swallow down a snarky response.

“Is that how you snuck past Techna and me?” The pain was gone but her legs still felt wobbly and she was forced to hold onto Valtor in order to remain standing. “A cloaking spell?”

“If the shoe fits…” he trailed off as Bloom stood up to her full height but despite the heels she wore, Valtor noted with a slight amusement, only managed to reach his shoulders. The glare princess of Domino sent him would make a lesser man run to his mom but it only made Valtor grin. Bloom ripped her arm from his grasp and he had to bite his lip to stifle a chuckle that threatened to escape as Bloom stumbled slightly when he willingly let her go.

Bloom mumbled something that even his heighten senses couldn’t pick up. “I apologize darling, I didn’t quite catch that. Would you mind repeating it?”

“I said that if you turn around and bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits.”

Valtor was in stupor for a minute, but then a surprised chuckle broke through his lips and his shoulders started shaking from the laughter he tried, and was slowly failing at, keeping contained. “Oh, and she bites.”

Valtor continued laughing sporadically, stopping for a few moments only to start up again. The lines around his eyes crinkled and Bloom found herself fascinated by how melodic and pleasant his laugh sounded. The thought only lasted for a few seconds before Bloom stomped on it with a part of her brain that was still capable of making rational thoughts. Get it together, Bloom.

“If you’re quite done,” Bloom spoke, her cheeks red from rather unorthodox behavior she exhibited few minutes ago, “how about you tell me what are you doing here, finally?”

“I think you know why I’m here.”

“Forget it, you’re not getting it!” She turned to face him fully, her eyes boring a hole into the side of his head.

Valtor lifted his eyebrows as if to say ‘Really?’, mockery clear in his eyes. “Are you going to stop me?”

Bloom nodded. “I am.”

Valtor shook his head, smile on his face, amused by her confident tone. She thinks she’s a match for me. Silly girl. He was just about to tell her as much when the music that played as more of a background noise, suddenly became louder, loud to the point it drowned out all the chatter in the room.

Bloom almost jumped out of her skin when the orchestra started playing, loudly. She flinched, however, when she once again felt Valtor’s huge hand on her body. This time his palm was not in a direct contact with her skin but the unusual placement of the said appendage caused her to panic. His hand landed on the small of her back and it was quite persistently pushing her forward, straight onto the dancefloor between other couples.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She hissed through clenched teeth, sparks flaring at her fingertips, beginnings of an offensive spell already forming on her vocal cords.

“We are dancing.” His calm voice only made her more angry and she started struggling against the force pushing her forward.

“I don’t want to dance. Let me go.”

He stopped just short of the line separating area designed for dancing and bowed down theatrically while offering his hand to her. “May I have this dance, Miss?”

Few people closest to them turned around at the sound of his voice and Bloom had to bite her tongue to resist the urge to claw his eyes out. “No, you can’t!” She huffed out quietly instead, her neck and cheeks turning red from anger. “I told you, I don’t want to dance and I most certainly do not want to dance with the likes of you!"

“You wound me princess, truly. I don’t bite… not unless you want me to, of course.”

Bloom’s nostrils flared and flames began to dance in her eyes. What insolence.

“Let’s make a deal, princess of Domino.” He interrupted her just as smoke was about to start coming out of her ears. “You let me have this dance, and I’ll tell you everything you wish to know and I promise to tell the truth.”

“Why should I trust you?” She raised her eyebrows but it was obvious she was interested.

“You shouldn’t.” He tilted his head to the side as smile stretched across his lips. “But that never stopped you before.”

Sea blue met the arctic ice. A spark erupted and the coldness of his gaze melted away. “I give you my word.” His hand was still hovering in the air, his palm opened in invitation as he tilted his head in the direction of the dancefloor.

Bloom weighed her options. For as far as she knew, this could be another one of Valtor’s tricks to gain the information from her instead of vice versa. But the burning questions only he had the answers to kept pressing on the part of her brain that was telling her how much of a madness this was. Bloom sighed. Her hand rose hesitantly and slowly took hold of Valtor’s.

“One dance. That’s all you get.”

“That’s all I’ll need.”

He gripped Bloom’s fingers bit tighter as he lead her into the classic pose with his unoccupied hand placed on her lower back, lower than socially accepted when dancing with someone you do not know, but still in the safe zone that didn’t ask for Bloom to knee him in the balls. His other hand loosened around her fingers and now gently supported her palm. Instead of placing her other arm on Valtor’s shoulder, Bloom gripped one side of her skirt so she could move freely and to minimize contact. He looked down , searching her face, but Bloom turned her head in the opposite direction.

Valtor was never the one to blatantly display his emotions but Bloom’s refusal to look him in the eyes was one thing that almost made him boil. He didn’t know why the daughter of those that defeated him had such effect on him and he didn’t like it. He hated not knowing what was running through her head, especially in the place where he was in an obvious disadvantage concerning numbers of the two opposing teams. During his careful observation, he counted eleven of them, and there was only one of him. Not like any of them actually pose any threat, he mused. The only one that is able to even remotely challenge me is the one I’m dancing with and from this proximity she can be easily taken care of. He studied her posture, how her eyes avoided his at all cost, how her back stood stiff like someone stuck a pole to her spine, how tightly she gripped her skirt as he moved with her elegantly. It was obvious she was not enjoying this. Well then, let’s make you even more uncomfortable.

Without warning, Valtor pulled Bloom closer to his body, upper body completely pressed against hers, one of his legs between both of hers as her head snapped up to look at his cheeky smile. Fire was blazing in her eyes but Valtor didn’t care. He thrived on her reactions. Bloom squeezed the hand that was holding hers in warning but Valtor only gripped the flesh of her hip in response. Devils were dancing in his eyes but to Bloom they looked alive for the first time. Gone was the icy look capable of making even the best trained soldier hesitate before rushing into the battle against him.

He’s genuinely amused by this. She thought. If only be wasn’t having fun at my expense, I might’ve let it slide. Valtor twirled her around other dancing couples, his graceful steps never flattering, and it occurred to Bloom for the first time that she actually didn’t step on his toes even once.

“How are you doing this?” She asked him as he swung her away from himself, only to bring her in again, her back to his front, both of his hands gripping her hips. In her peripheral vision, she saw him rise his eyebrow. “I’ve never been good at dancing.”

Valtor smirked. “Perhaps you’ve never had a good enough partner.”

Judging by the tone of his voice, he was mocking Sky openly so Bloom miscalculated and stepped with the heel of her foot onto his polished shoe. She heard him grunt as, what she assumed was a curse, left his mouth. She smiled. If you play with fire, you’re gonna get burned.

“What happened to my parents?” Her next question made him quirk an eyebrow and she saw his eyes widen for a second before he regained his bearings.

“What did Faragonda tell you?” He answered her questions with one of his own and that made her irrationally angry for some reason.

“I asked you first.” She bit her tongue before insults started spewing out of her mouth. She realized long ago that snarky comments only made him more angry so she wasn’t willing to risk her one chance. “Answer me.”

“Do you think you are in position to demand anything, heiress of the lost kingdom?” Anger was starting to creep up in his voice as he dipped her low and snapped her back up harsher than necessary.

Bloom gasped as she suddenly found herself in an almost horizontal position. “You promised.”

Valtor assumed their previous position, except this time he lowered his head so his breath would graze her neck when he spoke. He sighed and goosebumps rose on Bloom’s skin as his hot breath washed over her collarbones and sternum.

“The truth is, I do not know what happened to your parents. I was imprisoned before the final battle. As far as I’m aware, ancient witches were the last to see them.”

Bloom swallowed. “That’s not Faragonda’s version.”

Valtor laughed, though his laugh was somehow bitter. “And you, as a good fairy, believe everything that your headmistress says don’t you?”

“And who am I supposed to trust? You?”

“Have you ever wondered why,” he repositioned her hand slightly as he side stepped to avoid the couple that was directly on a collision course with them. The sudden movement made the lock of Bloom’s hair wiggle out of her bun. “your headmistress send bunch of barely legal girls to suicide missions against the powerful enemies such as myself?”

“Because she trusts us?”

“Because she has an underlying motive.” He continued when Bloom scoffed. “Think about it. Can you honestly tell me your headmistress provides you with all the available information before she sends you off into battles?”

His question made her think of all the times Faragonda withheld the valuable information because she deemed it necessary and she bit her lip as realization hit her. “That doesn’t make her evil.”

“I never said it made her evil.” Smirk once again climbed on her face. “She’s cunning alright, but not cunning enough to be considered evil.”

“What’s her underlying motive according to your expertise?”

He shrugged carelessly. “Everybody needs someone to do their dirty work.”

“Like you have Trix?” Bloom raised her eyebrows in question.

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned. “Those three are as incompetent as they get.”

They danced in surprisingly comfortable silence for a few seconds, Valtor’s capable hands leading them. “You never answered my question.” Bloom said.

“What question?”

“How are you doing this?” She tilted her head slightly to their intertwined hands.

The edge of Valtor’s lips turned upwards. “You know how I’m doing it.”

Bloom frowned in confusion. “No, I actually really don’t.”

“Yes you do.” She was about to open her mouth to protest and to ask him what the hell he’s playing at, but he was faster than her. “You just have to let yourself feel it.”

Bloom’s shoulders tensed as the feeling of her native fire burning spread across her whole body. Okay, this is new.

“Pretty impressive, don’t you think?”

Bloom locked eyes with Valtor as he bent slightly in the knees, his hands gripped her hips tightly and her hands automatically came to rest on his broad shoulders, as he lifted her up and then, with care she didn’t know he was capable of, lowered her back to the ground. There was something hypnotic about his eyes and Bloom found herself unable to look away as she fought to regain her breath once her feet touched the ground again.

Whatever moment they shared was interrupted by a horrendous sound of alarm blaring and all the lights going off at the same time as explosion sounded somewhere above them. Valtor smirked as Bloom recoiled from him as if he burned her. Her hands lit on fire as people started screaming around her and moving away from them.

Valtor could hear Bloom’s friends calling her name as they pushed through the crowd of panicked guests.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it!?” Anger was obvious in her eyes and Valtor found himself fascinated as the fiery glow from her hands reflected in her irises. What he would do to have her on his side.

He shook himself out of his stupor as he snapped his fingers, letting his disguise slip off. Short brown hair and boyish look was replaced by long strawberry blond hair and his face morphed back into high cheekbones and sharp jaw. “I would love to continue our conversation,” he raised his arm and shot blindly towards the ceiling, blowing a huge hole into it. “however, I believe that my time has run out.”

Distant flashes lit up and Winx finally emerged from the crowd, sparkly outfits and huge wings on point. Bloom was the only one that remained in her normal attire, her hands showing no sign of burning out anytime soon, as she kept shooting daggers at Valtor with her eyes.

“It’s a shame I wasn’t able to answer more of your questions, Bloom. But I don’t think this is our last meeting.” Valtor grinned, thirty two pearly white teeth on display. “Besides,” he drawled as Icy flew from the direction of the vault Amplificarum was locked in, green gem standing out against the pale skin of her hand. “you know where to find me.”

“Solar energy!” Stella’s arm shot up, spell hurtling straight towards Valtor, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash as his hand rose to absorb the spell.

“Stop in the name of the law!” Armed soldiers and specialists started breaking through, their weapons and swords drawn and ready for a fight.

Valtor’s laugh echoed in the room as he shot off towards the hole in the ceiling, his mouth reciting the spell Bloom was quite familiar with. “Have the taste of your own medicine, princess of Solaria.”

Bloom barely had time to put up a shield as Stella’s own amplified spell was hurled back to them, painting the whole room in white hot glow, forcing everyone to close their eyes so they don’t go blind.

When Bloom finally gathered enough strength to open her eyes, Valtor was nowhere to be seen and people, specialists, guards and her team were slowly climbing back on their feet. Remnants of Stella’s spell still lingered in the air, making the room uncomfortably bright and forcing Bloom to squint.

“He did it again.” Stella spoke next to her and Bloom nodded absentmindedly as Stella continued looking around. “He used a heightened version of my spell… it’s a miracle no one’s been hurt.”

Bloom shook her head. “I don’t think he meant to hurt anyone Stell. He obviously needed a distraction to get away.”

“He doesn’t want unnecessary pain and destruction… you told me that’s what he said to you on Andros.”

Bloom nodded. “I think he managed to fulfill his promise, for once.”

Bloom looked up where Valtor made his exit and couldn’t help but to think that the chessboard once again tilted in his favor.

#sparxshipping #bloom x valtor #bloom x baltor #baltor x bloom #valtor x bloom #bloom #valtor #winx #winx club #winx bloom #winx valtor

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Text

Demonic Intervention (Indruck)

Prompt for the 7th: “Hell is empty, and all the devils are here.” - The Tempest (William Shakespeare). This fill is NSFW

It can't get much worse.

Indrid is barely scraping by. He can count his friends in town on one hand. He’s gay in a tiny, rural community and one of the few men like him is a goddamn priest. His house is a mess. And his every waking moment is filled with the demons of his past or the devils lurking in his future. There are so many of them in his present too, roaming the streets of Kepler.

What’s one more in the mix?

He lights the stubby black candle by the bed, scratches the symbols on the floor, and retreats into his cocoon of blankets to wait.

--------------------------------------------

Duck hates when it’s his turn on the summoning shifts. All this ancient knowledge and power and he’s stuck waiting to see if some yahoo in a graveyard or a wannabe cult leader will call him up into the world.

He has brambles that need pruning, damn it.

His name isn’t well known among humans, so he only gets summoned if someone is just rooting around for a demonic entity without caring who they get. He’s only been summoned twice in the last hundred years. The tingle in his horns tells him it’s about to be three.

The room he arrives in is gloomier than any graveyard; the lights are off, the curtains are shut, and the place looks like it got hit by a tornado with a grudge. By the light of the candle, a pale-haired head emerges from the blankets of the small bed. A hand reaches for the floor, comes back with a pair of red glasses.

“Greetings, infernal one. Thank you for answering my summons.” The man’s voice is flat.

“Even demons got manners. So, uh, what’s the job?”

“There are so many dishes in the sink that the thought of doing them is an insurmountable task. Please do them for me.”

“...You realize I’m takin somethin’ from you for this, right? Like a piece of soul or a month of your life?”

“Mmmm” The man rolls over and says nothing else.

“A day of your life for this.” Duck feels like he should haggle more, but then he’d had to pretend he actually thought a higher price was fair.

“I accept your terms.” A crackle of green and black electricity flickers in the air in the form of Duck’s signature and the other man’s name: Indrid Cold.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

Indrid says nothing. Duck is sure to wash and dry before he goes.

The next day he’s summoned to the exact same room, in the exact same state of depressing mess.

“Greetings, infernal one. Please clean this room.”

“Same terms?”

“Mmhmm” Indrid is just staring at the ceiling.

“You gotta say you accept.”

“I accept.”

Duck snaps, turning on the light, and gets to work. Technically he could do all this with a wave of his hand. But then he’d lose his chance to learn a little more about the guy who’s settled on demonic deals instead of a maid service. It’s the opposite of the usual problem he has in these kinds of situations, where the humans reveal their deepest secrets, desires, and fears within five minutes of meeting him.

The records he stacks near their player, the clothes all go in the hamper to be magicked clean, then are hung in the closet; they’re loose and soft, not a scratchy fabric to be found. Tarot cards and candles abound, as do art supplies, and under a pile of drawings he finds magazines featuring muscular, hairy men in various sexual positions. Some of them even look like his preferred human form, the one he’s wearing now.

He glances at the bed; Indrid is on his side, facing him, must have been watching him at some point but has dropped into a restless sleep. The blankets are slipping, showing a The Sonics tank top hanging off skinny shoulders. Right, that was one of the bands in the record stack.

Duck doesn’t tend to pry into souls or auras or shit like that; there are whole heaps of trouble that lay that direction. But as he flicks the dust from the bookshelf covered in paperbacks, he feels the edges of Indrids and nearly falls on his ass from the wave of exhaustion and loneliness.

When it’s time to go, he pauses to pull the blankets back up around him, sets his glasses on the bedside table, and turns the calendar on the wall from “September 1974” to “October 1974.”

When he’s summoned right back to Indrid’s room the next evening, he spots the same tank top on him as he sits up in bed.

“Greetings infernal one.”

“You can just call me ‘Duck’. It’s a nickname.”

“Oh” Indrid blinks, perplexed, “very well. I, ah, there are some bills that need to be paid to keep the lights on.”

“You need the money for them?”

“No, just for someone to fill out the forms and checks and put them in the mail.”

“Okay. But my fee’s a little different this time: you gotta tell me when you last ate.”

“I accept. I ate this morning.”

Duck snaps his fingers

“Two days ago!” Indrid yelps, then slaps his hands over his mouth. He glares, “why does it matter?”

“Because while I’m payin those bills, you’re eatin’ dinner.”

“Everything in the fridge is disgusting and I can’t go to the store.”

Duck takes the short trip out to the kitchen, opens the fridge to the new sound of Indrid’s footfalls behind him.

“You got lots of decent stuff in here; could make you some eggs?”

“No, thank you.” Indrid shakes his head, looking a bit ill.

“Well, what do you want? I can summon it up.”

“I’m out of Lucky Charms.” The humans says sheepishly, staring at his bare feet.

A fresh box of cereal appears on the table, Duck pulling out the half empty bottle of milk. He thinks back to the drawings he saw yesterday and conjures a bowl covered in a pattern of brightly colored moths.

He gathers the stack of bills of while hearts, stars, and horseshoes rattle into the bowl. After a few moments of crunching he hears, “May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Why is your nickname Duck? Does that word mean something else in demonic speech?”

Duck stuffs paper into envelopes, “Nah. It’s, uh, kinda silly but, uh, most demons learn how to take on an animal form. When it was my turn, they asked me which I wanted and, uh, I said I wanted to try bein’ a duck. Liked it so much I stayed that way for three months.”

There’s an odd, strangled sound that makes him look up; Indrid has one hand over his mouth and is shaking with little squeaks. He’s laughing.

“I’m, I’m s-sorry but, but I, I cannot get over the image of you as a little, feathery waterbird.”

Duck smirks, “Only part that ever gave me trouble was the quackin’; always came out too deep.”

He just manages to pull the envelopes back as milk comes out the human’s nose and he giggles uncontrollably.

“Ow, ow, heeh, oh g-goodness, I’m s-sorry I, I just haven’t laughed in so long, ugh, there’s milk on my shirt-”

“Guess you’re gonna need to shower now too.”

“Nono, I can just change-”

Duck waves the bills back and forth, “Uh uh, if you want me to actually put these in the mailbox, you gotta agree to shower.”

“But that’s changing the terms!”

“Demon.” Duck grins.

“Very well. Let me finish my dinner first.” Indrid scarfs the rest of the cereal, pads back towards the bedroom while Duck cleans the table. He waits to hear water running before going to the mailbox. When he gets back he sticks his head into the steamy bathroom.

“I’m gonna go now.”

“Oh, alright. Thank you again.” Indrid pokes his head out from the shower curtain and Duck resists the temptation to make the whole barrier disappear just for a peak. What can he say? He’s always liked his humans a bit unique looking.

He draws a special sigil in the steamed-up mirror and heads for home.

---------------------------------------------------

Indrid sets the candle on the table, lights it, adds the symbol he found in the mirror, and then starts unpacking his groceries.

“Lookit you doin’ chores.” The whiff of burnt pine needles accompanies Duck’s voice and draws the tension from Indrid’s shoulders.

“I’ll have you know I swept today as well.” Indrid turns and crunches the bag of potato chips in his fists; Duck hasn’t put his horns or claws away, and his shirt is half unbuttoned.

“Caught me while I was gardenin, which is why I ain’t as put together as normal. What can I do for you?”

“This may sound strange but, ah, what is the fee for just talking with you?”

Duck’s eyebrows shoot up and then he chuckles, “You’re full of surprises, little moth.”

Indrid touches the luna moth on his shoulder; how much had Duck studied him when he was here? Did he like what he saw? Does he give everyone he makes deals with nicknames that come out in a drawl like summer honey?

“Hows a little nibble of the old soul sound?”

“I accept. Ah, would you like some cookies? A friend of mine brought them over to me.”

“Sure. The fella on the fridge bring ‘em?” The demon indicates the picture of himself and Barclay, the one he can’t bring himself to throw away.

“No. My friend Dani, she’s in charge of the gardens for the little co-op in town and when the bakery has seconds she often drops them off for me.”

He really needs to stop staring at Duck’s chest, even demons probably find ogling rude. Duck’s eyes--one blue, one brown-- catch his own and suddenly claw tips are undoing the remaining buttons. Indrid goes pink but manages to get the cookies and two glasses of water on the table without incident.

“You know, you never told me why you stayed a duck for so long.”

“It’s the least demonic thing you’ve ever heard but, uh, I just thought it was nice. Bein’ out in the woods, paddlin’ on the lake and watchin the world go by. Sleepin under the stars. Just makes you feel like you’re part of somethin’ bigger than yourself. Now, I got a question for you; why go to all the trouble of summonin’ me just to do your chores?”

Indrid bites his lip, “I knew I was in the kind of mental place where I could not manage it myself. And it felt safer to ask you than to ask my friends. Not that they wouldn’t help me. It’s just, when my mind is like that it turns so inward I can’t conceive of a world that might contain things for me.”

The demon says nothing for a moment, sips his water with a thoughtful look. Then he sets down the empty glass, “Glad you’re feelin a little better.” He tilts his head to indicate the sketch on the counter, “that new?”

“Yes” excitement bubbles up in his chest, “I was reading about--ah, well, it’s, it’s sort of a long story, I don’t want to bore you.”

Duck kicks his feet up on the spare chair and gestures for him to continue. So he does, tells the demon about reading every book he could find on the mythology and folklore of the Mexico and the American southwest, about his new inspiration for a series of drawings, his worries that no one will like them or purchase them and he’ll be stuck running his little psychic side business until he dies

Duck, in turn, tells him about life as a forest demon, about his hellcat, and about the fact he routinely comes up to the human world for french onion soup because the stuff made in his realm never tastes right. When Indrid next looks at the clock, it’s well after midnight.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

“No complaints here. But I oughta get home and feed Winnie before she shreds my cabinets again.” The demon stands, rounding the table, “gotta get my fee first.”

“Right. How should I…” Indrid stiffens as Duck bends forward, wondering if the sharp teeth that smiled at him all night are about to pierce his skin.

Warm lips meet his forehead and he sighs at the tenderness in the gesture. Duck, however, moans as he pulls back, then quickly covers his mouth.

“Uh, that, that’s a totally, uh, totally not, uh, un-normal reaction, uh, fuck, see you around.”

He’s gone with a campfire crackle, leaving Indrid to wonder how a demon can be such a terrible liar.

--------------------------------------------------------

“Sweet fuckin hell.” Duck gasps as his living room forms around him. His lips still tingle from kissing the human’s forehead, from the sheer force of the want and yes that came when he took that sip of soul. It’s never like that, never comes so willingly and eagerly, like the soul is searching for someone to look after it.

Technically, there’s nothing stopping him from zipping right back up there and pinning Indrid to his bed while he takes what the human seems so happy to give.

Duck takes five deep breaths, then ten, and then goes to retrieve Winnie from the cabinet she clawed her way into.

------------------------------------------------------------

When Barclay suggested Indrid find someone to confide in, Indrid’s going to guess he didn’t mean, “routinely invite a demon into your house to play cards or listen to music.”

Most times, Indrid isn’t even summoning him; they have two standing dates a week, plus a game night with Dani and her new girlfriend, Aubrey (who Duck seems to know but refuses to say more about how). Duck will sometimes drop by unannounced, and he hardly ever collects a fee these days. When he does, it’s always a taste of Indrid’s soul, taken via a kiss on the cheek.

Indrid would let him take it any way he wanted. He’s well past denying the fact Duck is type in all his forms, that he’s gentler than most humans, and that he’s so charming Indrid would eat out of his hand.

Duck even goes out with him, like the boyfriend he wishes he had. When he puts on his human form to accompany Indrid around town, he radiates enough residual, demonic energy that the people who normally make Indrid’s life a living hell stay far, far away. In fact, tonight is the first night in months he’s had something close to a disaster, and it was mostly an accident. He’s peeling his beer-soaked shirt over his head when he feels mis-matched eyes on his back.

“Have a little too much fun bartendin’ tonight?” Duck holds out his hand, rendering the shirt fresh and clean when it touches his palm.

“Some caveman hit on one of our regulars and would not back off when asked. She threw a full pint of beer on him and I happened to be standing right behind him when she did.” He wiggles out of his jeans, let’s Duck give them the same treatment he gave the shirt, “ugh, I need a bath, I smell like Rheingold.”

“Allow me.” Duck waves his hand and steam wafts from the bedroom, goes into it and grabs the bubble bath from under the sink as Indrid follows him in his underwear. Duck’s constant glancing at his crotch and legs makes him bold.

“What’s the fee for such excellent service?”

“No fee, little moth. I’m just doin’ a favor for my friend.”

“And what if your friend wants to repay you anyway?”

When the demon looks up from the tub, his eyes are glowing, “Only if he’s doin’ it because he wants to and not because he owes me.”

“I want to, so very badly.”

In a flash Duck is in the tub, beckoning Indrid to join him. Indrid tests the water with his finger just to be safe.

“Mmm, nice and warm.”

“Hellfire, sugar. Now get your cute ass into the tub or--oh fuck yeah.” Duck growls as Indrid strips and climbs in with him, drags him into his lap and traces his claws up his sides while Indrid yanks him into a kiss.Curious, Indrid reaches one hand up to rub the base of his horn, the dark brown curls like smooth bark beneath his fingers.

“Fuuuck” Duck groans, “feels like gettin a back-rub.”

“Then I better keep at it. Oh, oh my” Indrid sits back to admire the vines of green appearing in Duck’s skin, “you’re absolutely beautiful.”

“Kinky little thing, you like that I’m a demon.” Duck scrapes his teeth along Indrid’s shoulder, “that really why you summoned me? You were hopin I’d have my, uh, demonic way with you?”

“N-no, I, I, it’s no secret I’m attracted to you but I, you make me feel so happy, I’m so safe when I’m with you, and, and if all your care and affection towards me has been part of some malevolent plan please, please just tell me because I, I think I’m falling in love with you.” He kisses Duck with far more force than before, forestalling the inevitable confession that this was all just a game for his soul and his own, pathetic admission that he’s not sure that changes anything.

“Oh, sugar” Duck keeps brushing their lips together as he speaks, “First time I tasted your soul I knew I was fucked. Knew I wanted to keep seein’ you, even if you never gave me another goddamn thing.”

Indrid buries his face in Duck’s shoulder, letting out shuddery sighs as Duck pets his back. He’s never leaving this spot, Duck is just going to have to carry him about while he does his infernal business and his housekeeping.

“Tell me what you want, little moth.” Duck kisses the shell of his ear. It still tingles, even when his soul stays put.

“Please fuck me? Oh! Oh that’s very efficient and extremely strange.” He squirms in Duck’s lap as his ass turns slick and stretched, like someone has pulled four fingers from it.

“Do it the traditional way some other time” The curved head of a cock bumps his ass, “you wanna feel just to be sure you can take it?”

He flails in the water a moment, finds a warm, responsive shaft with four, bumpy ridges leading to the head. It’s no bigger than the one toy he splurged on during his last trip to the city.

“Yes, certainly, oh, oh, AHHhnnnn yes.” The cock is hotter than his body as it slides in and he wonders if it will just melt him from the inside out, if Duck’s cum will be just as warm, how it will feel on his tongue and down his throat when he drags the demon into his bed.

“That’s it sugar, take it all the way. Fuck, been jerkin off to the thought of you on my dick for months.”

“Nnngh” Is his eloquent reply, the ridges of Duck’s cock making his toes curl and his fingers dig into Duck’s skin.

“You like that idea, little moth? Knowin I could be out temptin anyone I wanted to and instead I was in bed thinkin’ about you?”

“Mhhmmm” He whines, the desire pouring off the demon wrapping around him and soothing his insecurities.

Duck slows the thrusts of his hips and his voice is gentle when he whispers, “Course I did; no one can compare to you, ‘Drid.”

“Ohgod, Duck, please, please, please, want to be yours, always yours-”

“Careful,sugar, that sounds like you’re anglin’ for an infernal marriage.”

“A, a what? OHhhhnnyes” He moans as claws knead his ass.

“It’s a special kind of deal where a human agrees to marry a demon. Soon as they’re dead, they go straight to their spouse, no other options provided.” Duck cups his face, holding it steady so he can look into his eyes, “but there ain’t no need for that right now; way I see it, we can do this like we were just two normal fellas for now.”

“But it sounds fun.” Indrid offers a teasing pout and gets an adoring kiss in return.

“Yeah? What if I tell you a lot of demons mark their spouses by piercing these” He pinches Indrid’s nipples, the pain making him bounce more determinedly on his dick. His demon growls, drops one hand down to thumb at the head of his aching cock, “pierce here too. Won’t even do it in public like you’re supposed to; do it at home so no one else will see just what a sweet, needy thing you are for me--whoah, fuck, did not expect you to cum just from playin with this nice dick a little.”

“V-very sensitive” Indrid gasps against the green swirls in Duck’s shoulder, his orgasm such a surprise he’s still registering it, hips twitching and tongue threatening to loll out of his mouth.

“Keep that in mind for next time. Might even bring a cage so you don’t cum too early and spoil my plans. Now, hold tight, little moth.”

Indrid clings to the warm bulk of Duck’s body as his cock pounds up into him, the demon easily holding his hips up and his ass open so all he can do is whimper and writhe on it. When he cums it’s hot enough that Indrid squirms

“Don’t hurt does it?” Duck pets his sides, concerned.

“Nono, it, it’s nice, just very strange.” Indrid winces as Duck pulls out, watches him wave his fingers to clear away the mess. When the demon makes no move to let go, Indrid looks up, “you really meant what you said? About wanting me as a boyfriend?”

“Damn right I do. Now c’mere, lemme get the beer outta your hair.”

Indrid hums as Duck scrubs his scalp and runs warm water over his skin, talking all the while about how they should go camping as a first date so no one will bother them, says he’ll even turn into a duck to make Indrid smile.

Indrid says he knows just the spot, let’s his boyfriend dry them off and bundle them to bed and then, for the first time, falls asleep with a devil in his arms.

#indruck #promptober #indrid cold/duck newton #Demon AU #monster boyfriend

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ghost-in-the-hella · 3 years

Note

Could I get "39. holding hands in a museum to pull them to the next exhibition", Chasemarsh, Bless this Mess AU?

As you wish :) Same AU as Bless this Mess, but early days. (For those who haven't read Bless this Mess, it's an AU where Victoria and Kate didn't meet until they were adults and therefore Victoria had never bullied Kate) The museum in this ficlet is fictional but based on my own favorite museum, the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art.

---

“This… is a museum?” The building before her has nothing of the grandeur that Victoria has come to expect from museums. It is neither cold nor imposing, just a modest one-story building with some whimsical decorative frills around the entrance. Bright colors show through the large windows. There are bronze statues scattered around the grounds, but they’re all of creatures that look like they’d be more at home in a fairytale than at a museum. Children run around the grounds, screaming and frolicking.

“Of course it is, silly!” Kate stands next to the entrance sign and Vanna Whites a hand across the bold letters. “The Leo and Diane Dillon Museum of Children’s Book Art. See? It says ‘museum’ right there.”

Part of Victoria wants to roll her eyes, curl her upper lip, and unleash a comment so scathing Kate will feel flayed to the bone for having the temerity to call this obvious travesty a ‘museum’. Fortunately, this is the part of Victoria that - with the help of her therapist and years of hard emotional labor - she’s gotten better at catching and overcoming before it can claw its vicious way to the surface. She searches for something nice or at least neutral to say instead. She likes Kate. If she didn’t like her, she would be home marathoning something on crunchyroll in her pajamas instead of getting dressed up on a Saturday morning to go out on this date with her. She doesn’t want to scare Kate off by being needlessly rude. “It’s… not quite what I’d pictured when you invited me to go to a museum with you.”

Kate’s smile doesn’t falter as Victoria had feared. Instead, it softens into a grin that does frankly criminal things to the state of Victoria’s heart. “I know what you mean,” she says so fondly that Victoria is both certain and relieved that Kate has taken her comment as a compliment instead of a barely masked insult. “The first time I came here, I couldn’t believe my eyes.” Her eyes - such warm, lovely eyes; Victoria can’t imagine a work of art that holds a candle to those eyes in any museum - sparkle. “It’s been my favorite museum since I first set foot inside. I come here at least once a month.” She sighs rapturously and Victoria’s heart gives an embarrassing squeeze. “We’re so lucky to have such a special place so close by.”

Victoria makes a noncommittal sound, not wanting to quash Kate’s enthusiasm. Kate smiles at her and beckons playfully for Victoria to follow her as she leads the way inside. They’ve only gone on a handful of dates so far, but already Victoria suspects she’d follow Kate just about anywhere.

The museum truly is unlike any that Victoria’s ever been in before. There are so many children, for one thing. The security guards just smile at them benignly, for another. The last time Victoria was in a museum, she watched someone get chewed out by a security guard for having the audacity to take notes with a pen instead of a pencil. Had a parent been foolish enough to bring a small child inside, they would’ve been stalked by security and stared at so ominously they would soon think better of their faux pas, and perhaps reconsider their decision to reproduce altogether.

But here… Here, the children are not only encouraged to run free, they’re allowed to touch things with their grubby little child hands. Encouraged to, even; there are kiosks set up all over the room they’re in with interactive exhibits, as well as cozy reading areas all around full of children’s books, where parents and children can sit together and paw through museum property with their bare and presumably unwashed hands.

“Isn’t this place amazing?” Kate asks, her voice as warm and gooey as melted chocolate. “You can practically press your nose up against the art and not get in trouble for it. I love it. I can really get in there and see how the artists used all their different materials. It’s so inspiring!”

“I’ve never seen a place like it,” Victoria replies neutrally. Honestly, the idea of children near artwork makes her break out in nervous sweats. She tries to imagine how her parents would react to children running loose at the Chase Space. They’d probably have a coronary each. She herself wasn’t allowed to set foot in the gallery until she was solidly in double digits, and even then she’d always been treated like a disaster waiting to happen, a ticking time bomb in Mary Janes.

Kate nods in satisfaction. “It’s really special.” She gestures at the room they’re in. “This gallery always has a show of Leo and Diane Dillon’s works, plus the interactive exhibits. The specific stuff changes periodically. The gallery across the hall has shows of different works by children’s book illustrators.” She smiles bashfully, a delicious pink tinge warming her cheekbones. “It’s one of my biggest dreams to be included in one of those shows.”

Victoria stops short and blinks rapidly, trying to process. “Here?” she asks, dumbfounded. Here, where children run amok? Where your artwork will never be hung alongside that of a truly great artist?? She remembers Kate mentioning minoring in illustration in undergrad, but somehow that had never really clicked in Victoria’s brain as something important. It’s not like she’d studied photography or even painting, something Victoria would be able to sustain a deep conversation about.

“Of course here!” Kate giggles. “I illustrate children’s books. Well,” she avers with a shy shrug, “a little bit, anyway. It’s only a side hustle right now, but someday I’d like it to be a bigger part of my career.” She looks around the room and sighs dreamily. “It would be such an honor to show here.”

“Here,” Victoria repeats, her brain still struggling to compute. She’s fully being rude now; she can hear it in her voice, a shift from merely confused to straight up condescending.

But Kate just giggles again and rolls her eyes, not looking remotely fazed by Victoria's attitude. “Not every artist needs to show at the Guggenheim, Tori. Some artists dream of being showcased in the Whitney Biennial, and some dream of showing in, well, the Leo and Diane Dillon Museum of Children’s Book Art.”

The nickname throws Victoria even more than Kate’s good natured response to her blatant rudeness does. It distracts her so much she almost doesn’t notice when Kate’s fingers suddenly thread into her own. “Come on,” Kate goes on, “I’m really excited about this month’s exhibit. Have you ever heard of Mary Blair?”

There’s a firm but gentle tug at Victoria’s hand leading her toward the doors separating exhibition rooms and Victoria’s awareness sparks to life. Kate’s holding her hand. Her heart dances a little two-step as she fumbles for words. “N-no, I haven’t.” Heat flushes her cheeks and she clears her throat self-consciously. “My art history degree didn’t cover children’s book art.”

Kate nods thoughtfully as she pushes the doors open and returns the security guard’s smile and wave. “She was actually more involved with animation and concept art, especially for Disney. Murals, too. But it’s true; art history classes tend to leave illustration out as a whole. It’s such a shame, really. There’s some fascinating history there.”

Victoria’s never given a shit about illustration - for children’s books or otherwise - before, but she’s pretty sure Kate could deliver a four hour lecture on the subject and she’d have Victoria’s undivided attention for every minute. “Photography gets the shaft, too, especially in survey courses,” she says. “Anything other than art history courses specifically oriented toward photography, really. It’s like if you’re not a white cishet male painter, you don’t matter.” She shakes her head in aggravation. “As though the advent of photography didn’t change the entire course of art history, and painting in particular. Such bullshit.”

Kate gives Victoria’s hand a little squeeze, and Victoria is floored once more by the realization that Kate is holding her hand. Still. She’s not even leading Victoria anywhere anymore; they’re just standing there, holding hands. It’s astonishing. “We should write a book,” Kate suggests. “Shed some light on the more underappreciated aspects of art history.” Her tone is light and teasing but Victoria finds herself considering it seriously.

“I could probably sell that pitch,” Victoria muses. “I have some contacts in publishing. You could cover illustration, I could cover photography, we could tap my friend Taylor to cover--” She’s snapped out of her brainstorming by the sensation of Kate’s thumb rubbing softly over her knuckles. “Uh, but we can work out those details later. If you want to. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me about…” She gestures with her free hand. “...whatever’s going on here?”

Kate grins and gives her a warm nod, not letting go of her hand as she leads her to the nearest artwork. “Don’t be scared to get up good and close,” Kate instructs her, tugging her closer. “We’re not at the Met, don’t forget.”

Victoria scoffs. “As if I could forget that.” She lets Kate pull her closer til she’s scant inches from the art and her shoulder is pressed firmly against Kate’s. “Close to the art… or to you?” she asks softly. She doesn’t know how to look at art this closely; it all blurs to abstraction as she waits for an answer.

“Both,” Kate replies seconds before a tender kiss presses bold and warm against Victoria’s cheek.

#ghost writes #prompt fic #prompt fill #life is strange #fanfic #prompt ghost #chasemarsh #victoria chase #kate marsh

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 3 years

Text

The Great Upheaval of Percy Weasley: Mirrors

Percy Weasley x OC

Summary: Defense Against the Dark Arts takes a turn for the worst.

Warnings: angst, fluff

MASTERLIST

mirrors -n- eyes that stare back haunt me, but when you join the reflection becomes clear.

***

Professor Lupin quickly became Elle’s favorite teacher. It wasn’t difficult when the rest of her favorites had raging flaws.

Professor Sprout was incessantly bubbly. She never had anything bad to say about anyone, ever. And while many students found that to be a blessing, Elle couldn’t stand it. Nothing said lack of a challenge like a teacher who never gave bad marks. Some days she messed up purpose, begging for a snap, but one never came. She was always full of sweet, encouraging words that never seemed to do Elle’s work justice. Her sole saving grace was that she allowed Elle to wander around the greenhouse after hours if only to understand her garden’s magical properties and the way they could be combined and altered.

Professor McGonagall cared far too much for technique and not enough about creativity. The lion for example, a beautiful display of transfiguration and she was being punished for it. Didn’t matter that no one had ever been able to accomplish that as sixth year, all that mattered was that her technique was off.

And it goes without saying Professor Snape hated her. The only teacher who managed to keep her challenged while still allowing for creativity hated her for the color of her tie. It’s not to say that in the beginning she didn’t try to make him love her work, and she had certainly succeeded, but that didn’t stop him from hating her every being.

Professor Lupin was the wonder of all three. Creative, challenging, and without the obsession of technique, plus he didn’t seem to hate anyone. Her certainly tolerated her and her temper towards her partner.

It didn’t matter that Percy kept her company in empty classrooms, she still wanted nothing more than embarrass in front of everyone who dared to watch. And as she walked into class that beautiful Wednesday morning that was all she had on her mind, beating Percy Weasley into the ground while wide blue eyes asked why.

However, that didn’t seem to be the plan for this particular Wednesday.

Desks were pushed to the sides and a large shaking wardrobe sat in the center.

Clouds were covering her Wednesday morning.

Percy fell into place beside her, a single finger drawing down her arm alerting her to his presence. She would have flinched a month ago, but a month ago she didn’t have the Head Boy touching her whenever he got close enough. There was no romance to it, neither them were stupid enough to fall for that, but it certainly was edging on addiction. When she had first suggested it she had assumed it was simply an attempt to keep her mind busy and to relieve herself of the incessant drive to kiss him again.

Instead of relieving she only wanted more, and from the number of times he had dragged her into the Restricted Section of the library he had once dubbed to pure, she was sure he was suffering from the same craving.

His finger never left her arm until Lupin stepped in from his office, and then he was back to being the perfect child. It was a good thing he did too, because when Lupin announced the creature hiding in that wardrobe, she might have ended anyone who touched her.

The dreaded Boggart.

She considered refusing, storming away and hiding until class was over. But that would be defeat, and she would let Percy Weasley face the thing he feared very most if she wasn’t going to do the same. That would be cowardice and just as her tie stated, she was not a coward.

Lupin reminded that it was just for fun, one last go around before he had it destroyed. There would be no grade, it was just a bit of relaxer, he assured them.

Elle felt anything but relaxed.

She made her way as close to the end as she could manage, head held high. She thought she had gotten past the lesson of Boggarts in her third year without a hitch. Quirrell was too much of a coward to bring live creatures into the classroom so it had been nothing more than bookwork and theory. Now the shaking wardrobe was standing before her, mocking her and Percy, who had somehow ended up behind her, was going to see her fail for the first time ever.

She gnawed her black nails as she drew closer to the front, biting off the carefully grown ends. Five people, then three, and then one. It turned into a ghost, and then as she cast the spell is dropped to the floor like a forgotten bedsheet. She closed her eyes and took a step forward, breathing deeply.

The sheet rose, a body forming beneath it and then with familiar fingers, it pulled the sheet away revealing something that was almost a mirror. She looked the way she should have, the way her mother would have liked it. Classic, a beige two-piece set, nude pumps, no eyeliner. She didn’t have braids, her mother hated those too. Instead it was let loose, long curls, she could imagine a ribbon tying them back She was longer, more fluid this way. And her grey eyes, the ones that always stared back at her in the mirror, were looking at her the same way she looked at Percy Weasley. Her mirror’s wand was out before she could react, and she was flying across the classroom into the desks that had been placed against the wall.

That dreaded fear of the what-could-have-beens. A stronger, more respected witch stared down at her, mocking her as she advanced. Elle yanked her wand out.

“R-riddikulus,” she stuttered, but there was no fun idea to trade out for the fear that kept inching closer. And then, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight Percy, watching with something that fell between terror and apt fascination. She uttered the spell again, determined to beat him, but her mirror kept advancing. “Riddikulus, Riddikulus, Riddikulus,” she screamed until someone stepped in front of her.

She thought it was Lupin at first, until her mirror image turned to Percy’s. The Head Boy stared down his mirror, and with only a slight tremor to his voice raised his wand and uttered the magical words. It dashed into a thousand pieces like she wished it had done for her.

Lupin was speaking but she couldn’t hear a thing. The blood rushing through her ears made her dizzy as Percy turned, and without a hint of arrogance helped her to her feet. She stumbled a little, catching his shoulder as she tipped forwards.

He caught his hand on her waist. It slid beneath her robe and to the small of her back, a small comfort.

“Meet me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” she gasped before pulling away and gathering her things. Lupin tried to talk to her, as did Dinah, but all she wanted to do was run, and that’s what she did. She relished in the sounds of her boots hitting the floor, grateful they weren’t heels.

How could she be so stupid?

She could already hear the rumors they would make about her. The first time she had encountered a boggart she had been eleven. She had whispered the same things to herself that they would whisper to each other. It hadn’t attacked her that first time, it hadn’t felt threatened, not when she terrified at the sight of herself climbing out of an old trunk. She thought she had been going crazy, she had cried to Madam Pomfrey for what seemed like hours, unable to articulate the sight. Eventually everything was explained, and she was excused to go to her room, but she had vowed to beat it, whatever it meant, the next she encountered a boggart it was going to be different.

It clearly wasn’t.

She ran a hand over a braid and charged into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, throwing her book bag against the wall, and staring into the mirror. That was who she wanted to see, this was her, not that preppy priss who managed to tower over her with a single raised eyebrow.

Her grey eyes were still lined with black liner and her hair was still tied in two long braids. That mirage was just that, an illusion that existed only within her mind. She punched the mirror, watching as it shattered upon impact. Carelessly, she watched her knuckles bleed before whirling around at the sound of a girlish laugh. Myrtle was peering over a stall, resting her head on her folded arms. Couldn’t she leave someone to angst in peace?

“Fuck off.”

“It’s my bathroom,” she reminded indignantly.

“Fine, I’ll leave.” She huffed and gathered the books that had spilled across the floor during her tantrum. Blood soaked onto the pages and she swore violently. Could this day really get any fucking worse? She slammed open the door again, ignoring the whispers of the girls who had watched her enter the bathroom in the first place.

“I’d be scared if I looked like that too,” one whispered and Elle rolled her eyes. Fucking fourth years. She allowed her gaze to meet the girl who had spoke and pulled out her wand.

“Want to say that to my fucking face?” The fourth year squeaked as she advanced. Elle was convinced she would have ruined those gossiping pricks entire week had Percy not walked around the corner looking for her.

“Elle!” She considered ignoring him but decided snogging in some dark corner would be better for her mood than removing femurs from insolent children. She sent them one last fiery glare before stalking towards Weasley.

If he wanted anything other than snog her, she was going to explode.

She followed him silently, itching to get her hands on that cocky ginger. The moment they turned the corner into an empty corridor, she pounced. He pulled her into a broom cupboard, locking it behind them as she attacked him with lustful ferocity. She ripped open his shirt, black nails raking along pale skin.

“Elle, you’re bleeding,” he muttered breathlessly.

“Fuck, sorry,” she swore. Truth be told, she had forgotten the moment he had stepped into view. She pulled out her wand to heal the cuts, but he had already beat her to it. With soft movements the cuts closed, and the stains disappeared until there was no evidence of the injury. She sucked in a deep breath as he watched her, already itching to kiss him again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as she grabbed him.

“No,” she mumbled against his lips, but he pushed her away, hands pressing against her shoulders. “Percy, I said I don’t want to talk about it.” She leaped forward again, but he shoved her against the wall. A mop or two clattered to the ground at the impact and she swallowed.

“Sorry,” he muttered, loosening his grip. She wished he hadn’t apologized. “It’s just, you’re not the only one who saw yourself today.” Elle blinked as she thought back to the moments when he had stepped in front of her. He had seemed without fear then, but now he was shifting nervously, unable to meet her eyes. She reached out and took his face more tenderly than she had anticipated. Blue met grey and her stomach rolled uncomfortably.

“Thank you,” she muttered before kissing him. That was uncharacteristically tender too. When she pulled away, he was smiling softly. “And I’m sorry I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Elle, I’m not saying you have to. I just want you to know you’re not the only one who had to face yourself today.” Behind sharp eyes, Elle could feel herself welling up. From the first time she had seen herself staring back she had felt like an enigma that couldn’t be solved. She had been a solitary being, but now Percy, who couldn’t be more different was the same. Her stomach turned again, and she nodded, quickly kissing him before he noticed the tears building in her eyes.

This time he didn’t try to push her away but pulled her closer. She dug her fingers through his hair and didn’t hesitate to respond as he wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing her up against the wall. Fingers slipped beneath her skirt, denting soft skin with hunger.

“Fuck,” she growled as he wrapped a braid around his fist, tugging it until her neck was exposed to soft lips and harsh teeth. She grabbed his shoulders, holding on tightly as he almost hesitantly nipped at her pulse. He ran his mouth up her neck and along her jaw, nipping at her ear until she was moaning his name. He found her lips again to quiet her soft whispers, catching the taste of his name leaving her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lowered her legs, pulling him tighter against her lips.

“Good talk,” he muttered when they pulled away for air and she laughed.

“Excellent talk, best one we’ve had yet.”

“Shall we talk some more?”

“McGonagall’s going to hang us.”

“I’ve already explained it to her. You’ve ran off and I’ve gone to check on you, it’s terribly tragic really,” he whispered, and she grinned before pressing herself against him once more.

“I knew I was snogging a genius.” And then they proceeded to talk much, much more.

Taglist: @andromedasstarship @danadeacon

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thatesqcrush · 3 years

Text

After Hours, Pt. 2 - A Blissful New Year

Bryan Kneef x Reader. Conclusion (but not really, lets be real) to After Hours. AN: NSFW (shocking) for loads of smut and language. AN 2/warning: Anal play requires a lot of prep - please don’t shove plugs without thorough prep and lube - lots and lots of lube as the anus doesn’t produce lubricant. So don’t do what Bryan does. No bueno. But it’s fanfic and I am suspending reality for this self-indulgent fic.

Prior parts: “The Trip” “The Trip, Pt. 2.

AN 3: Happy 2021 friends, may this new year bring you all that you wish for. Let’s say peace out to this dumpster fire of 2020. My last piece for holiday bingo - a very loose interpretation of “gift wrapping.” But again, it’s my bingo so whatevs, ha.

WC (for those who care): 2.8K

It was New Year’s Eve. The normally bustling city was quiet, with just a few stragglers securing what was needed to ring in the New Year. Knowing what was going to occur later that evening, you had called a few friends and secured some favors. You spent the entire day primping and pampering. You had a full face of makeup on, more heavy than you usually went for, complete with false lashes and a bold red matte lipstick, as if muddled blackberries were smeared on your lips. Your hair was swept up, with a crown braid to finish the look. Your dress, thanks to Rent the Runway, was a Badgley Mischka gold sequin dress with a v-neckline and ruched waist. It was also dangerously short sans heels and the champagne stilettos you wore, made it even shorter.

Before you left, you downed a shot of Reyka vodka – a gift from a client after you won their case. It went down smoothly – almost too smoothly. You decided to down one more shot to settle your nerves as you waited for your Uber to arrive.

Not to be outdone with the elegant Christmas party a week earlier, STR Laurie also hosted a very opulent and lavish New Year’s Eve party. This time it was located at one of the ballrooms at Navy Pier. The ballroom capitalized on timeless architecture and the beauty of Chicago with brick structure and a sweeping dome ceiling which boasted a warm and rustic feel, while being fresh with polished floors and modern amenities. It sat directly on the lakefront with expansive, panoramic, and breathtaking views of Lake Michigan and the skyline. Crystals, crème roses, white lilies, and purple statice hung off the wrought iron chandeliers.

All of STR Laurie and Reddick Boseman were there, with their significant others or dates. Mixing in were the highest echelon of clients the firm wanted to impress or court to pad their billing revenue. Food and drink were abounding in obscene excess, with both an open spread of everything you could possibly imagine along with butler service carrying hors d’oeuvres and champagne. There was a quartet playing jazz.

You plucked a champagne flute off a serving tray and made your way around, greeting colleagues and guests alike. You scanned the room for Bryan but he was nowhere around. You continued to mill about, enjoying the passing time. Every once in awhile you would try to discreetly scan the room to see if he had arrived.

The clock inched forward, closer to midnight. You walked to the one of the windows, with yet another glass of champagne in hand. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling. The moonlight beamed off Lake Michigan, creating an ethereal effect over the city. You overheard from someone passing by that it was thirty minutes to midnight.

You took out your phone, feeling defeated. You were focused on your phone, arranging for an Uber home but you knew Bryan was behind you.

The cologne gave him away. You knew that smell from anywhere. You had been up close with that scent in many ways – from being under Bryan, over Bryan, sitting next to him, to name a few ways.

The tactile sensuality of rich black leather, patchouli and vetiver of his cologne enveloped you like a second skin. Layers of amber emanated off the heat of his skin. It was addicting and intoxicating. You looked up and Bryan’s reflection in the windowpane confirmed that it was in fact him. You spun around and slipped your phone in your clutch.

“Bryan.” You greeted coolly. “I was just about to leave.”

Bryan’s arms were around his back. Your breath caught in your throat as your drunk him in; he looked debonair in his tuxedo. His salt and pepper hair was perfectly coiffed and his beard was neatly trimmed.

“Hey gorgeous. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” Bryan replied with the tiniest of shrugs as if he did not even care that he had kept you waiting. You suspected he actually did not.

“I had to pick up something for you.” He continued.

You cocked your brow and crossed your arms, which happened to push your breasts up. “For me?”

Bryan’s gaze darkened. “Consider it a belated Christmas gift. Had to make sure it was wrapped perfectly.” And with that, he brought his arms around, lifting a small, gilded box with an impossibly perfect handtied bow.

You took a step forward and took the box from him. Your eyes met his and he nodded, waving to fingers as confirmation that you should open it. You felt bad undoing such a perfect bow, but you were curious as to what it was. The elegant red ribbon fluttered to the ground, landing in a small heap by your feet. You lifted the top of the box and felt your cunt kick at the gift.

It was a butt plug and a small, nearly pocket sized bullet. Your fingertips traced over the butt plug – it was cold as it was made out of glass. The plug was deep red in color and the flared base ended with a marbled rose. It almost looked like a piece of art. A shiver went through your spine.

You looked up at Bryan once more; the look on his face was criminal. “It’s almost midnight.” You replied softly.

“Then we should find someplace where we can be alone then, hmmm?” Bryan replied.

You closed the box and offered your hand. “Lead the way.”

***

You were curious as to where Bryan was leading you. You followed him dutifully as he tugged on random doors by the ballroom you were in. Finally Bryan found an open door and he stuck his head in. He opened the door, holding it for you. “M’lady.”

“You sir are the furthest thing from honorable.” You snorted walking in, but not before thrusting the gift box into his chest.

Bryan made sure the door was locked after he closed it behind him. He caught up with you in a few paces and reached for wrist, stopping you in place. He pulled you close to him and captured your lips with his. The kiss was frenzied as you each grabbed handfuls of each other’s bodies, unable to decided where to touch first, wanting to touch every part of each other at once. His hands made way to your ass, grabbing the flesh before delivering a hard spank to it. You let out a moan as he reached around to the backs of your thighs, lifting you up in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked to the back of the ballroom to the window.

The muffled sound of the party was in the background, but you did not care about that one bit as his lips locked onto the slope of your neck sucking another bruise. You let out a mewl of pleasure as his hands slid up your waist to the top of your dress, kneading and massaging your breast through your dress. He then pushed the neckline of your dress aside on each side, freeing your tits from its confines. Bryan’s mouth latched onto a nipple and you arched in his embrace. Your pert nipples endured licks from his tongue and then harder suckles from his warm mouth. Your pussy flooded with desire and it was safe to say that you were obscenely wet from Bryan’s actions, and he had only just begun.

You tugged on his dark hair, dragging his mouth from your breasts to your mouth, kissing him once more. Your tongues rolled over another’s until Bryan took control of the kiss, using his tongue to fuck your mouth.

Your palm slid down the front of his pants, stroking his clothed erection. “Please, fuck me.” You unabashedly begged. Bryan chuckled darkly as he spun you around and pressed you against the window. It was the same view as in the other ballroom and your mind was spinning as you came to terms of being fucked in front of all of Chicago in some sense.

Bryan pressed himself against you, rutting his cock against you, practically humping you in a futile attempt to give himself some relief from his own ache, which was throbbing against the seam of his zipper. You pushed back, desperate for more. Bryan flipped up the back of your dress, running his hands over the slope of your ass and used the tip of his shoe to spread your legs apart. He dropped to his knees and hooked his fingers on the flimsy straps of your lace thong, bringing it all the way to your ankles. He tapped your ankle and then the other, and you stepped out carefully. Bryan made sure your heels didn’t get caught and then once they were off, he took your thong – already ruined – and took a deep inhalation. Bryan growled and shoved your thong into his pocket. “I’ll be keeping these.” Bryan rumbled. “I’ll use them for the next time I jerk off.”

You shivered once more at his filthy words. “After me, you’ll never need to jerk off. My pussy belongs to you daddy. You can use me however you want, whenever you want.” You panted, wriggling your hips once more.

“Is that so?” Bryan asked, his voice delighted. “My personal fuck toy?”

“Yes.” You confirmed. “Yours.”

You gasped as you felt his beard scratch against the backs of your thighs, his tongue running an unhurried stripe from your clit up to your ass. Bryan’s palms were splayed out on your cheeks, spreading them wider. He used his fingers to part the lips of your hot cunt and buried his tongue, eating you as if he were a man having his last meal.

You let out a cry of pleasure, grasping desperately at the window, your nails scraping. Bryan shook his head, lapping and flicking his tongue against your pussy, which was dripping. Your thighs were a mess of his saliva and your juices. He snaked his fingers and found your clit, rubbing haphazard circles on your swollen flesh. You rocked against him, desperate for more, desperate to be filled. Bryan gathered some of your juices on to the tips of his fingers, teasing your asshole. “This ass is going to look so good with your gift.” Bryan murmured. He removed his hands and you heard him open the box and then drop it back to the ground. Bryan snorted and then hocked a wad of spit into his hand in order to use it as lubricant. You felt the tip of the plug at your entrance and then Bryan sunk the plug inside of you as he sunk two fingers into your pussy. He let out his own groan of satisfaction at how easily they sunk in. You let out a wrecked moan, feeling the pressure of the plug give way to fullness.

You let out a groan, tipping your head back. Bryan let out a satisfied whistle and then stood. “Stay still.”

“Okay.” You managed to choke out, your voice was heady, filled with want. “I feel… so full.”

Bryan undid his cummerbund and then undid his fly, pushing his pants and boxers down in one movement. One hand gripped your hip, the other was on his cock, giving it a few strokes. He rubbed the tip of his cock against you slit, slicking his cock with your wetness. You recalled how he did that prior – and just that – before releasing into your panties and you wriggled back again, desperate.

Bryan paused and you tensed.

“What? Is there so—” You asked but you were cut off by the sound of buzzing in the room. You realized that Bryan had turned on the bullet. Bryan lined his cock with your entrance, you could feel the buzzing along the side of your hip. He dragged the head of his cock up and down your cunt, gathering your essence, then pushed the crown into you. Finally, with a snap of his hips, Bryan sunk into you, his cock hitting your cervix. You groaned as he stretched you with his monstrously sized cock. You felt wonderfully full; there was a slight burn mixed with pleasure.

Your eyelids fluttered closed and you moaned loudly as his other arm, the one with the bullet in his hand, wrapped around and down you, settling on your clit.

He started to fuck you hard and fast. He was relentless, pounding you deeply; you were certain you would feel it the next day. You felt yourself clench around him, your orgasm building furiously. Keeping his one hand on your clit, he used his other to sink his fingers into your updo and tug hard. You cried out at the edge of pain and your cunt clenched around his cock.

“Oh God, Bryan - I think I am going to —" the words were caught in your throat.

“That’s it kitten. Cum on this cock, cream for daddy.” Bryan grunted, as he pounded your pussy deep and hard. Beads of sweat dropped off his forehead. You came hard, wailing his name and as the tendrils of your orgasm washed over you, you were distantly aware of fireworks going off in front of you.

“Yes!” Bryan hissed. “Fuck, fuck!” His hips quickened and you knew he was going to cum soon. Bryan thrusted harder and faster, in and out of your pussy. The pressure of the bullet on your clit deepened and his other hand pressed into your hips so much so that you were certain there would be bruises.

“Oh shit, I am going to cum Y/N. Take that cum!” Bryan growled as he stiffened, releasing into you. You could feel his cock pulsing inside of you. Bryan gnashed his teeth together, letting out a sound akin to something animalistic and primal as if he was marking you as his. You could feel some of Bryan’s come drip out despite still being connected and that trigged another orgasm and you cried out again.

Bryan pulled out of you and you barely had a second to come back down when his mouth was on your pussy again, lapping the mix of your release and his. The bullet was tossed to the side, no longer needed. He stood up and jerked your chin and pressed a hard, deep kiss into his mouth. Bryan pushed the mixture of your and his release into your mouth and you groaned in pleasure, taking delight in the filthy kiss.

He broke the kiss briefly to command you to swallow and you did.

You went to kiss him again but missed as Bryan sunk back down on his knees, resuming his oral fixations on your cunt. You ran your hands through his dark hair as he propped a heeled leg onto his shoulder. “I want one more – I want the big one.” Bryan sunk two fingers into you and crooked them in a come hither motion, stroking against your g-spot. You felt the familiar pressure surge and you cried out as you began to squirt. He rubbed your clit with his whole palm, not caring that he got soaked in the process.

“Fuck Bryan, oh God, oh fuck!” You shouted, with the last word’s syllables being stretched out.

You stood there panting, a complete and utter mess.

Bryan slowly pulled out, gently putting your leg down. Bryan stood and fixed himself. He pulled you close to him and kissed you softly. You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into the kiss. You felt his hand trace the curve of your ass and then reach into your cheeks and pull out the plug.

You broke the kiss, shuddering. Bryan reached into his pocket and pulled out your panties and then wrapped the plug in it. You bent to pick up the bullet and handed it to him and that was further wrapped with the plug. Bryan shoved all three items back into his pocket.

“Should we go back to the party?” You asked as you both walked back out, your voice hoarse from all the orgasms that Bryan ripped out of you. You both could hear Auld Lang Syne being sung from the ballroom inhabited by all of STR Laurie.

Bryan scoffed. “Fuck no – lets go finish this party at my place.”

“Sounds perfect.” You replied. “Lets go.”

“My car is out front.” Bryan replied. He wrapped his arm around your waist as you made your way back out to the cold Chicago air. Fireworks continued to go off above as you and him drove off into the night to continue the celebration.

FIN.

Tags: @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @delia26 @mgarner1227 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader @rachelxwayne @prurientpuddlejumper @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @bisexual-dreamer02 @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @teamsladsandgents @qvid-pro-qvo

#bryan kneef smut #bryan kneef x reader #bryan kneef imagine #bryan kneef and reader #the good wife smut #thatesqcrush holiday bingo #bryan kneef x female reader

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maybeimamuppet · 3 years

Text

in her pride

happy Wednesday and happy pride, friends! this is a request fill for @jusanotherconfusedfangirl who requested our art freaks and Elijah attending pride!

trigger warnings for:

homophobia

one use of d-slur

panic attacks

I think that's everything, but as always please let me know if I've missed something and I will add it in.

enjoy!

“Hey, Peanut,” Janis greets as Cady leaps into her arms. “You look cute!”

“Thanks!” Cady chirps happily. She does look rather adorable in her shorts and tank top combo, complete with bi flag suspenders and a matching headband. She also found bi flag socks and stole a pair of Janis’ boots. Cady pulls back to see Janis’ outfit too. “Wow. You look… really good.”

“Why thank you,” Janis purrs. She’s in her usual shorts and tights, but this time has a lesbian flag t-shirt and matching socks poking out from her own boots. She does a spin to show off her outfit, revealing that one the pockets of her shorts has also been painted with the many orange and pink stripes of her flag, and her infamous ‘female power’ painting done in miniature on the other. “Come on.”

Cady follows her into the house and up to her room. Julie waves as they pass her open door. She’s got on a rainbow shirt in solidarity, but wouldn’t be joining them on their little excursion.

“Do you want your flag painted on your face?” Janis asks, pointing to her own cheek decorated with yet another lesbian flag. Cady nods excitedly, so Janis gestures for her to sit across from her on the bed and grabs her paints and a brush.

“What’s it going to be like?” Cady asks as Janis tenderly brushes a thick stripe of blue onto her cheek.

“Loud,” Janis replies immediately. “In a lot of ways. There’s gonna be a lot of bright colors, obviously, and a lot of noise. And probably a few weird smells.”

“Okay,” Cady chuckles gently so she doesn’t mess Janis up.

“It’s a lot of fun, though. You’ll get to see and meet all sorts of people who’ve been through and experienced all sorts of things,” Janis says. “You’ll love it.”

“I’m so excited,” Cady says happily as Janis finishes brushing magenta on top of her purple stripe. “When did you start going?”

“Ninth grade,” Janis says quietly. “Damian and I went with our moms.”

“Aww,” Cady coos. “You sound sad.”

“I’m… I don’t know,” Janis says. “It was a great thing overall that year, but I had an… ordeal, let’s say, with a group of protestors there. I’m still not sure how I feel about that Pride as a whole.”

“Oh,” Cady frowns. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now,” Janis says. “It’s your first pride, let’s just focus on that for today. I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “You look good in warm colors, you should wear them more often.”

“You think?” Janis chuckles, putting her hands on her hips and striking a pose. “Haven’t worn this much pink since I was a Plastic.”

“Love, you wore that pink shirt so many times during our junior year,” Cady says. “And last year, too.”

“What pink shirt?” Janis asks in confusion. “I don’t have any pink clothes.”

Cady heads over to her closet and pulls out the two-toned pink striped shirt, a dress with pink flowers, and a pink sweater.

“Then what color are these?” She asks, holding them up to show off.

Janis goes very quiet and purses her lips. “Diet red. I don’t wear pink.”

Cady bursts out laughing and comes to kiss her cheek. “You’re allowed to wear pink if you want, lovey. It suits you.”

“Humph,” Janis grumbles. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so,” Cady says. “Sunscreen and sunglasses, ear defenders, hats, water, snacks, phone, ponchos, flags.”

“Sounds good to me,” Janis says. “Dame and Elijah should be here in a few minutes and then we can go.”

“Yay,” Cady says happily, coming to straddle her girlfriend for cuddles.

Sure enough, Damian and Elijah come quite literally parading into the room about ten minutes later, having let themselves into Janis’ house. Cady and Janis are more than a little concerned when they hear Julie yell “Oh my god!”

Until they see what she’s on about. Damian is looking… colorful in a full rainbow outfit, complete with cloud hat, bright red lipstick and wearing a trans pride flag as a cape. Elijah is entirely topless but in a rainbow skirt, long and made of tulle. He’s also wearing a flag cape, but his is the demisexual flag. He has a fan in each hand. One says ‘Oh honey’ with a bee pattern on it and the other appears to say ‘Power bottom’. Janis gags a little as he hands the latter back to Damian.

“Jesus Christ, guys,” Janis laughs. “Looking good.”

“Whoa,” Cady blinks. “I want a cape!”

“Do you have a flag?” Damian asks. Cady nods and grabs her larger bi flag that she’d impulse-bought a while ago out of her bag. He takes it and ties it loosely around her neck to match them. Once she has her cape, Cady does a superhero pose with her hands on her hips and her chin jutted out proudly.

“Bi-der girl,” Janis mumbles under her breath. Cady hears her and laughs, nodding in agreement.

“Can we go now pleeeease? I’m so excited,” Cady begs, tugging on Janis’ hand to get her to stand up.

“Yes, we can, easy,” Janis laughs. “Save your energy.”

“She’s got plenty,” Damian chuckles. “Let’s go, E can drive us there.”

—————

“Whoa,” Cady says in awe, looking around at all the bright rainbows and fun outfits surrounding them. They got a spot near the start of the parade, to get the best goodies. “Is that person-“

“Naked? Probably,” Janis finishes as Cady trails off. “There’s a lot of different things people are here for, some are a little ‘out there’ even for me.”

“Hm,” Cady hums thoughtfully. “Fun!”

“Just wait ‘til it starts, Butterfly,” Janis says, kissing her cheek. Cady flinches a little when the screaming begins along with the parade, and Janis quickly realizes she can’t see much. Cady accepts the offered perch on Janis’ back and watches like that, waving at people passing by and catching them a few of whatever is flung their way.

By the time the last few floats and groups have gone by, Janis is almost totally covered in all sorts of rainbow and pride accoutrements. Necklaces, other beads, candy, flags, and even some condoms.

“That was awesome!” Cady squeals in her ear. “What now?”

“Now we get to walk around and enjoy it,” Janis responds, following Damian and Elijah down the street. “Ooh, cupcakes.”

Cady is glad Janis seems to have forgotten she’s still on her back, since it means she doesn’t have to walk around. Janis buys them each a cupcake with their respective pride flag frosted on top, and Cady climbs down to dig in happily.

“Ooh, mine is funfetti!” She says around a mouthful, showing Janis her cupcake with the bite missing.

“I think mine is strawberry,” Janis says around some of her own, showing off the pink center to hers. Cady cheekily leans in and takes a bite of it. “Hey!” Janis leans in and takes a bite of Cady’s. “You got frosting on your nose.”

Cady crosses her eyes to see, and sure enough, there is a little bit of purple frosting from her cupcake on her nose. She pokes her tongue out to try to get it, but Janis kisses it away instead. Cady grins and clambers back onto her girlfriend’s back, peppering a few kisses over her cheeks.

“What’s that?” She asks, pointing to a group of people who seem to be doing some sort of craft as they listen to a local band on a stage nearby.

“I dunno, sometimes they have art stuff here. Do you want to go see? I think we’ve officially lost Dame and Elijah,” Janis says.

“How did we manage that? Damian is literally dressed as a whole rainbow,” Cady mutters confusedly.

“Exactly, it’s perfect camouflage,” Janis chuckles. “They’ll find us eventually, come on.”

Cady clings to her shoulders contently as she’s carried over to the area. A lady is running a booth there and explains they’re painting rocks to go in a garden outside the local LGBTQ+ youth shelter. People are painting anything from pride flags, to animals and other random things, to supportive messages on some of the larger ones. It’s free, so Janis grabs a few rocks for each of them and a paper plate with all sorts of colors of acrylic paint.

“So what do you think so far, Butterfly?” Janis asks as she gets to work painting a bee on one of her rocks.

“It’s fun! You were right, it’s loud, but it’s… safe feeling. A good loud,” Cady responds, deciding to do a rainbow lion, as a little nod to her pride of lions from Kenya. “And everything is so interesting, there’s so much here.”

“Good,” Janis replies, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Someone from one of the other blankets yells over that they make a cute couple, and they both call back a thank you with a giggle.

“And everyone is so nice, too,” Cady chuckles, brushing a streak of purple into her lion’s mane.

Once all their rocks have been thoroughly decorated with all sorts of flags and rainbows and messages, they return them to the booth to dry and be placed, and then head off to find another thing to do.

“Oh, there’s Damian,” Cady says, having been on her tippy toes and scanning the local area.

“Of course he found the food trucks,” Janis mumbles under her breath. She yelps slightly as Cady grabs her hand and starts running them in that direction.

By the time they make it to him, she’s thoroughly out of breath. Damian turns around at the sound of her panting and chuckles.

“Hey guys!” He greets. “I found tacos. You good, Jan?”

“Gimme,” Janis puffs, reaching for his slushee. He hands it over begrudgingly and lets her have a few gulps. “Ooh, blue raspberry. Thanks.”

“Get your own,” Damian whines. “They’re, like, two bucks.”

“And you owe me ten,” Janis shrugs. “Mine now.”

“Why does Damian owe you money?” Cady asks worriedly.

“I bet him ten bucks I could steal a sheep without being noticed,” Janis responds. “And then I did.”

“You-you-“ Cady stutters. “Wh-what-why- why did you-“

“Good job, Janis, you broke your girlfriend,” Elijah chuckles.

“I put it back after,” Janis says, as if that makes anything better. Cady is still stuttering over several questions. “I named him Walter.”

Cady just blinks and then sighs, leaning her head against Janis’ shoulder. “Stop stealing livestock. Just leave them alone.”

“I didn’t steal the cows! Or the chickens,” Janis defends quickly. “And the sheep was fine. I just borrowed him for a second. Also, did you know sheep are not as soft as you would think? They’re very scratchy.”

“There’s a reason I can’t wear wool,” Cady chuckles in response. “Now get us some tacos, you heathen.”

Janis pouts, but does head up to the window to order them some food. Cady takes hers and leads them all over to a picnic table nearby, trying to navigate around the sticky soda spills and leftover gum.

Elijah tells them about the clothing and accessory booths set up a ways away, showing them all the cool pride necklaces he had purchased along with a few t-shirts. In return, Cady points out the cupcake place back closer to the beginning. Damian suddenly looks much more excited than he did a second ago.

“They’re really good! Mine was funfetti, and Janis let me try some of her strawberry one,” Cady says.

“I didn’t let you, you stole a bite,” Janis retaliates. “Don’t twist this story.”

“And you took some of mine,” Cady argues jokingly. “You would’ve given me a bite anyway.”

“No I wouldn’t! You’re a thief,” Janis says. Damian and Elijah both shoot her a look. “What?”

To prove her point, Cady juts out her bottom lip and blinks at her pleadingly. “Jayjay, can I pleeeease have a bite of your taco?”

“This is a trap, this is a trap,” Janis whispers to herself, trying her hardest to resist. Cady takes it up a notch and leans into her shoulder, blinking those long eyelashes at her adorably. “Fine!”

Cady laughs victoriously and steals her bite. “I told you. I have the power.”

“Outside the bedroom, maybe,” Janis mutters crankily. “Ow!”

“Janis Sarkisian,” Cady scolds, whacking her arm once more. “We just got a whole intervention a couple weeks ago, did you not learn your lesson about keeping things private?”

“I was joking, ow!” Janis laughs. “Stop hitting me, I’m sorry. I gave you my taco.”

Cady chuckles. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hit you. I love you.”

Janis grins again as Cady cuddles back into her shoulder. “I love you too.”

Damian shoots them a warning look, so Janis restrains herself to one kiss against Cady’s hair and less aggressive cuddling than she wants.

They finish their food and sit there chatting for a while before Cady pipes up again. “I’m bored, can we go find something else to do?”

“Sure, Cads,” Damian chuckles. “Come on, there’s some photo booth thingies this way.”

Cady says, “Ooh!” excitedly at the same time Janis gives a groan, but they both follow Damian and Elijah regardless. “Jayjay, it’ll be fun! Oh, look at all the backdrops, they’re huge!”

Janis can’t help but smile at her excitement, remembering the joy she felt at her own first pride. Cady takes all sorts of selfies and pictures with her little squad at every flag backdrop, even the ones nobody in their group belong to. They are all very pretty and do make excellent photo backdrops.

Janis takes some of just Cady in front of the bi flag pasted to the side of a building. Cady smiles happily at her and does a few poses. Damian cheers her on from the sidelines before joining her for a few more. Janis smiles even more. She and Damian are and always will be platonic soulmates, but he and Cady have something special too.

Cady eventually comes back to her girlfriend after no fewer than fifty pictures. Some Plastic habits have taken longer to fade than others. “Do you want any of you?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, Peanut,” Janis says. She’s perfectly content to peruse their group shots or the photos of Cady, she’s never been one to enjoy taking pictures of just herself. “I’m in plenty of the group ones.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “What do you want to do? You’ve just been following me around so far.”

“No, I got the cupcakes,” Janis reminds her. “And you’ve picked good stuff to do. Let’s go check out the shopping stands, though, they usually have good stuff.”

Cady nods and takes her hand. Damian and Elijah realize they’re leaving and follow after them at a slight distance. Cady looks around curiously at all the rainbows and other color schemes in various forms around them. “I’ve never felt so… safe. Or secure in my sexuality,” she says quietly as they pass under a rainbow balloon structure.

“Good. That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” Janis says back with a smile. It quickly fades. “Too good to last.”

“What?” Cady asks. Janis points to a crowd of religious protestors nearby, holding signs with all sorts of cruel phrasing on them. “Oh.”

“Just ignore them for now, unless they start getting physical or go after someone young,” Janis shrugs, turning to browse some pride earrings. Cady nods and follows.

She notices Janis tense up as they’re forced to get closer to keep browsing, so she squeezes her hand gently to comfort her. Janis squeezes back thankfully.

Cady and Janis manage to ignore them and continue browsing. Cady buys everyone scrunchies patterned with their respective flags. Elijah puts his on his wrist, but Damian goes the extra mile and manages to get a little ponytail together on top of his head.

He and Elijah continue walking around for a while, but Cady and Janis stay and find a place to sit. It’s quiet and peaceful as Cady braids Janis’ hair down her back and ties the end with her new scrunchie.

So quiet that Janis forgets where they are and who’s nearby, and leans in to kiss her. All she knows is Damian and Elijah aren’t particularly close by, so she has free reign to kiss her girlfriend as much as she wants.

She’s violently brought back to reality when she hears some yelling. All she can make out is the word ‘dykes’. And to make matters worse, her hand suddenly feels warm and wet. One of them spat on her.

Damian and Elijah make a return as they hear the slurs being yelled, and Janis runs to cuddle into Damian. Cady, however, is fuming.

Cady knows she’s not supposed to engage these people. It won’t change anything, and puts her at risk. But, as she sees Janis being led away by Damian apparently in tears, she can’t hold herself back. Elijah is waiting for her, and there’s plenty of safe people around.

“Listen up, you fucks!” She snaps, getting the mob’s attention. “You know damn well you don’t belong here. This is an event for us, to give us a safe space. You’re entitled to your opinions, but attacking my girlfriend is where I draw the fucking line. Fun fact, pride actually has two meanings. This, and a family of lions. I grew up surrounded by several prides. I know how they fight, how they protect each other. The same applies here. If you even think about doing anything to anyone here again, I’ll show you how a whole pride of lions fights. Now fuck off.”

Surprisingly, they listen and back down a little bit. They don’t leave like she had hoped, but deep down she knew they wouldn’t. They’re suddenly swarmed by other pride-goers, congratulating her on her speech and going to try to cover the signs of the protestors.

“Damn, Cady,” Elijah says lowly. “Nice.”

“They hurt Janis,” Cady growls furiously. “Where did they go?”

Elijah points to an alleyway and leads them to it, quickly revealing a sobbing Janis being cradled by Damian. Cady’s seen her like this a few times before. She’s having a panic attack.

“Oh, darling,” Cady breathes sadly, any trace of anger gone once she sees the state Janis is in. “I’m so sorry.”

Janis reaches for her, so Cady cuddles in by Damian and squishes Janis between them. Elijah waits a little bit away, but in earshot if they need him. Janis doesn’t know him as well and his presence seemed to be making her more upset.

Cady pulls her bag off her back and roots through it, pulling out a water bottle and one of the snacks she brought, Janis’ sunglasses, and her own ear defenders.

“Mpenzi, do you want to try these? You don’t have to, but they help me when I’m overwhelmed,” Cady says lowly, tenderly stroking over Janis’ braid. Janis nods with another burst of sobs, so Cady helps her get the sunglasses on without poking her eyes and gently pops on the headphones. “Deep breaths, love, everything’s okay.”

Janis continues weeping in their embrace, sniffling anxiously every once in a while and clinging to both of her comfort people. Cady usually would offer a calming strategy, but she gets a sense that this time it’s important for Janis to just get it out.

A few people pass by the alley and ask if she’s okay, but Elijah plays bodyguard and sends them on their way again with the assurance that they’re handling it.

Very, very gradually, Janis does calm down. She pulls the headphones down around her neck and tucks the sunglasses into her shirt, reaching for the water and snack.

Cady unscrews the lid and hands it over, but helps her hold it when she sees how violently Janis is still shaking. Janis downs a couple gulps and continues clutching it as she shifts off of Damian and closer to Cady.

“Can I kiss you? Here?” Cady asks, tapping Janis’ forehead. She doesn’t know what triggered this, yet, and she doesn’t want to overstep. But Janis nods, so she pulls her close and peppers kisses against her temple. “You’re okay now, they’re gone.”

Elijah gets a little closer now that Janis is no longer in tears, sitting across the alley against the other wall.

“Did they-did they do anything? To you?” Janis chokes quietly, checking over Cady for any injuries and her face for any hint of sadness. Elijah snorts. “What?”

“Cady cussed their asses out,” Elijah responds. “She went off, even I was scared. They didn’t have a chance to get anything in edgewise.”

“That’s not- not safe,” Janis whispers anxiously. “Wh-why?”

“Shh, darling, I know it was a bad idea,” Cady says, blushing slightly at Elijah’s summation of the events. She just said whatever came to her. “But they hurt you. I’m not gonna let anyone get away with that. Nothing happened, and I won’t do that again.”

Janis looks warily to Damian, who gives her a sad nod. Cady gives a weak grin watching their apparent psychic connection.

“When I was-well. The first-the first time,” Janis begins shakily. “I was-was fourteen. Stupid. I-I made f-fun of them. And-and-and…”

She breaks down again, crying into Cady’s shoulder gently. Damian asks her if he can tell the story for her, and she nods.

“She kind of taunted them. I did too, it was funny for a while,” he says quietly. “But then one of them got really angry. He got them all to yell at us a lot louder, and Janis was obviously still kind of sensitive to the whole d-slur thing. Which they noticed, so they yelled that over and over. And then he threw a rock, and it hit her. She had a bruise for almost a month, it almost broke her arm.”

“Oh god, love,” Cady whispers in sad shock. “I’m so sorry.”

“That guy was arrested, but the rest of them weren’t. And he got out pretty quickly, unfortunately. His church paid his bail,” Damian growls. “We’ve tried to avoid them since.”

“Was he there?” Cady asks him quietly.

“No,” Damian says with a shake of his head. “But it was similar enough to what happened last time. She wasn’t right for a long time after it happened. And it makes sense she’s traumatized a little.”

Cady nods sadly and cuddles her girlfriend closer. It’s so hot, but Janis is crying so hard into her shoulder that she can’t think about anything else.

“Shh, darling, I’m so sorry,” Cady says quietly, rocking her girlfriend from side to side. “You’re safe, I’m safe. All of us are safe, nobody got hurt this time. Everything’s okay, I promise.”

Janis nods gently against her and tries to calm down, matching Cady’s slow, deep breathing as best she can and inhaling her comforting scent of rosewater, cherries, and books. They all mingle in an enchanting aroma around Cady, and Janis can’t get enough.

After another few minutes she stops crying again, and is just sniffling quietly in Cady’s hold.

“Okay?” Cady asks quietly. Janis nods gently again. “Good. Do you want to go fix your makeup or stay here a while longer?”

“You could do both,” Damian shrugs, pulling out a pack of makeup wipes and a few basic products. “What? You never know what you might need.”

“Gay,” Elijah teases. Damian pokes his tongue out at him.

Cady takes a few of the wipes and tenderly swipes the mascara and streaky remnants of a pride flag from Janis’ face. Her lipstick survived, so she leaves that. “Look up, dearest.”

Janis does, so she gently swipes on a new coat of eyeliner and several layers of mascara, as Janis likes it to be. “Thank you.” She says quietly, blinking a few times to get everything in place once Cady finishes.

“You’re welcome,” Cady responds with a kiss to her cheek. “Do you want to go home? You’ve been through it today.”

“No,” Janis replies instantly. “I-I went home last time. I let them get to me. I can’t do it again.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “If you’re sure you’re okay.”

Janis nods and stands up, brushing over her cheeks to try and help any remaining tear tracks fade. Cady, Damian, and Elijah stand as well.

“Oh, hang on a second,” Cady says hastily, taking her bag off again and rooting through it. She pulls out Janis’ pride flag and ties it gently around her neck so she has a cape like the rest of them. “It came off your face. You need another one.”

Janis grins weakly and squeezes her hand, leading them out of the alley and back to the festival.

“Hey,” Cady says quietly as they follow Damian and Elijah back closer to the entrance. Janis looks at her with a questioning hum, still not really in a mood to speak. Cady holds their intertwined hands up. “I love you.” She squeezes Janis’ hand three times, one squeeze for each word.

Janis smiles and leans in for a quick kiss. She looks around anxiously before she does, but the fact that she’s even willing to do so at all is frankly a miracle. “I love you too.” She squeezes Cady back four times, following the same pattern.

Eventually they get close to the area where they had painted the rocks earlier. And Cady gets an idea.

“Darling, will you be okay if I leave for a few minutes? I think I left something back that way,” she says to throw Janis off slightly. Janis pouts but nods and picks up a bit of speed to catch up with Damian. He screams and whirls around when she taps him on the shoulder, and Cady muffles laughter into her hand as she loops around a building and runs over to the booth.

“Oh, hello! Welcome back, are you here to do some more?” The kind lady asks.

“Um, yes, do you have any that are like that one?” Cady asks, pointing to one of the ones she decorated earlier. “And could I maybe keep this one?”

“I’m really not supposed to, but I don’t see why not. Our gardens aren’t that big,” the lady shrugs, handing over a rock of a similar size and shape.

“Thank you!” Cady calls, squeezing out all the colors she’ll need and running to hide from her little group. She copies the design she wants, and grins when it turns out even better this time. The paint dries within ten minutes, so she holds it carefully as she returns her supplies and takes her time returning to Janis.

Once it’s dry enough, she tucks it into her backpack and rejoins her friends and girlfriend.

She finds them by the cupcakes again. Damian seems very pleased with his lemon transgender pride flag one, Elijah got a cookies and cream demisexual one, and Janis seems content with another lesbian pride one since she gets this one all to herself.

“Hey, love,” Cady greets, once again leaning in and taking a small nibble of her cupcake. Janis whines in defeat, but turns to greet her with a smile.

“You’re a thief,” she gripes jokingly, kissing Cady’s cheek.

“A cute thief,” Cady responds.

“You got me there,” Janis chuckles. “Did you find your thing?”

“Yep! All good,” Cady says. “Now you have frosting on your nose.”

Janis scrunches her face up to see, making Cady giggle. She leans in to kiss it off, returning the favor Janis gave earlier.

“Jan, are you done?” Damian asks around the last mouthful of his cupcake. Janis takes the last bite of hers and nods, standing up to throw the wrappers in the nearby bin. Cady sneakily puts their backpack on Janis’ shoulders. She looks at her oddly, but puts her arms through to carry it around.

“Should we leave? I think we’ve done all there is to do,” Elijah says. “And I want ice cream.”

Janis perks up at the mention of ice cream. She’s lactose intolerant, but will be damned if it keeps her from enjoying her favorite cold treat.

“Janis, no,” Cady says. “You get sorbet.” Janis pouts, pulling her own puppy eyes pleadingly. Resist, Cady. “Fine, we’ll stop somewhere and get you your lactose pills.”

Janis thinks for a second before giving a begrudging nod. She’d rather not deal with a stomachache on top of everything else today, maybe her lactose pills are a good compromise.

“Good, come on,” Cady says. Janis shrieks in surprise as she picks her up piggyback style and starts following Damian and Elijah to the gates. “What?”

“When did you get so strong, babe?” Janis asks, clinging to her shoulders as Cady grips her thighs.

“You’re not that heavy, Jay,” Cady chuckles, adjusting her grip slightly. “And I did grow up in Africa. I carried a lot of water around.”

“Are you from Africa, baby, really? I had no idea,” Janis teases.

“I will drop you,” Cady threatens in retaliation. “If you don’t appreciate my services.”

“No, I appreciate them,” Janis says hastily, clinging to her tighter. She rests her chin on Cady’s shoulder and squishes their cheeks together. The rhythm of their steps nearly lulls her to sleep. “‘S nice.”

“Good,” Cady giggles. “You’re so cute.”

“No,” Janis whines, turning her head away to hide her blush. “That’s not how this is supposed to go.”

Cady laughs again. “Well, it’s how it’s going, so I suggest you learn to live with it. I think you’re absolutely adorable.”

“Why?” Janis pouts. “I spent so much time trying to make myself not cute.”

“Because you just are. Your eyes are so big, and you care so much about the people you can be bothered to give a shit about, and the way you stick your tongue out when you try to focus just… hurts me, almost,” Cady says, listing a few things. “And you love cuddles and when I hold you, and you still blush every time I call you Jellybean, and you pout when you get tired, and-“

“Okay, okay,” Janis says desperately, cutting her off so she can calm down. Her face is bright red by this point. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Cady says, depositing her safely just outside the car. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Janis says, leaning in for a kiss.

“Oh my god, get in, losers!” Damian yells far too loudly. Janis and Cady both laugh and slide into the backseat.

————-

“You have an ice cream mustache,” Janis chuckles at her girlfriend once their tasty snack is finished. “Come here.”

Cady reaches for her, and Janis presses their lips together contently, the flavors of chocolate and strawberry mingling on their tongues.

“There,” Janis says once they finally pull back. Damian and Elijah went inside to browse the candy for sale, so she doesn’t have to worry about being scolded for kissing Cady so aggressively.

“Thanks,” Cady giggles. “Oh, I have something for you.”

“Huh?” Janis says confusedly as Cady takes the backpack back from her and starts rooting through it. Cady pulls out her rock and holds it behind her back.

“You have to promise not to laugh at it, I did my best,” Cady demands. Janis nods in confusion and holds her hands out for her gift. Her brows furrow for a split second when Cady drops the stone in them, but she smiles widely when she turns it over to see what it’s been decorated with.

“The rainbow lion,” she says happily, tracing a tender finger over a piece of his mane.

“I went back and made another one for you, the lady let me keep it,” Cady says. “Do you get it?”

“No, I didn’t know there was something to get,” Janis says. Cady sits next to her on the bench and smiles as Janis leans onto her shoulder.

“A group of lions is called a pride,” Cady says quietly. “And you’re in my pride. In more ways than one. I love you, so you’re in my group. And I’m so, so proud of you. For just… being you. And being here. And letting me love you.”

Janis pulls back, and Cady notices her eyes brimming with tears as she suddenly tackles Cady in a tight hug. Cady squeezes her back just as tightly.

“I love you so much,” Janis sniffles. “Thank you.”

“I love you too,” Cady says, stroking down Janis’ braid. “Oh, darling, don’t cry, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Janis chuckles through her tears. “Good cry this time.”

“Ah, okay,” Cady says, gently rubbing up and down Janis’ back as her girlfriend moves to sit on her lap. The sun is finishing its journey for the day, the stars are just barely visible and the horizon is still bathed in varying shades of pink and orange and purple. “Happy Pride, darling.”

“Happy Pride, Peanut.”

I’m glad I’m in yours.

well i’ve had quite a bit of excitement trying to get this posted, so i hope you enjoyed!

requests are still paused, but i am hoping to get them re-opened in the next few weeks. nearly there.

thanks for reading!

lots of love,

ezzy

#cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #mean girls #mean girls broadway #mean girls musical

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aueua · 3 years

Text

Marona’s Fantastic Tale (2019) AU where the dog lives and others are happier. Idea bounced with @mushrium a few weeks back; details under cut.

Yes, I am aware that hardly anyone knows of this movie (but maybe more’ll know it now due to the streamer albeit even then this is unlikely to be a proper fandom, maybe, maybe not). Doesn’t matter. This now exists for archiving purposes.

First and foremost: Spoilers abound, don’t seek further if you don’t want them by any means - with that said, also good luck if you aren’t aware of what the movie is but I’ll do my best to give some context as necessary. (Post-edit: No clarification. Very sorry.)

See also: The movie is not for everyone but it can be appreciated artistically for its fluidity and variety of styles. There is also a lot of symbolism and the dog narrator is impeccable. I love Nine. I love her, I do.

Okay! Here we go.

Recall the [Lost Dog Sign] that is posted some scenes after Nine (protagonist, dog) left Manole (red and yellow, acrobat entertainer) and she’s picked up by Istvan beloved (Tumblr nose, big guy). Istvan may be driving and potentially distracted; however, he absolutely sees that sign. And it doesn’t quite click, not yet. He’s worried about his mother, his wife, himself, this dog. Dog... Dog! This doesn’t register until he’s arrived at his ill mother’s home. That dog on the wanted sign looks eerily like the one he just picked up... and come to think of it, it did seem well cared for...

So he fudges around, figures out what the number is.

An answer. And with one thing leading to another, Istvan figured that this guy is sincere: He loves this dog much like he does. (But he believed that Manole loved her more, deserved her more, and it isn’t likely he can bring her quite anywhere...) So. They meet up. Guy really is nice, but Istvan can see it - the acrobat’s nerves are a bit shot after all that worrying and desperation to find this dog again. Ana (dog), was it? (There was an inkling that he should call her Sara but Ana is also quite the nice name. It’s fine. And thank goodness, that he did not name her, since goodbyes would be worse.)

They part, and that is that. Istvan checked on his mother, returned to his choking snake of a wife (yellow skin ostritch, black fluff); Manole reobtained his beloved boy (girl, he knows), managed to get a contract that allowed him to work with her in the La Circe (???) troupe thingamabob since it was either them or nothing. Both of these two keep in touch with each other as Istvan is worried and, admittedly, attached to the dog after those moments in the dumps viva la his loneliness. Plus Manole’s a fun personality. He’s considered going to see one of his acts, once, but his wife’s a bit overbearing.

A bit overbearing, as in a time skip occurs and he still had yet to leave her toxic self, nor could he bear to see his mother but still stuck it through.

Come to think of it though. Manole is obviously happy, and so is the dog. He can’t recall a moment with his wife recently where he felt... happy, sincerely. Perhaps in the past, when he’d strum his guitar and skate around - free and without the exhaustion of judgment and micromanagement? He deserved better. There’s just no right timing, though, as he can’t find the motivation to work himself up and tell his wife they need a divorce for both of their own sakes.

And then his wife gave him the ultimatum: Her, or that stupid acrobat with the dog and his mother.

Well, well. Fine. He doesn’t need to pack much, and he doesn’t need to say anything. He’s rearing to go. The wife? Cocky. All until she realized quite quickly that he was serious, dead serious, and she begged and pleaded and smothered herself all over him trying to get him to obey her every whim just like before. That it was a joke, an act, a test to see where he would be really happy but she needed him and who else would indulge her needs and fluff up her ego with the beefcake of a man?

Too bad! He’s gone, but he’s also an incredible mess and it was incredibly short-notice and maybe he should’ve thought things out better, but he’s free. He’s never felt so relieved. It’s quite cold, dark, and alone, but everything seems so much more colorful and bright now but also he really should find a place to say and strangely, his immediate thought is to call up Manole -- but he’s asleep, isn’t he? Or working? He shouldn’t bother him, he should go to his mother. But...

He called. Decided that if he did not get an answer, he would let him know another time (never, really). And nobody picked up. So as he’s ready to drive out, he gets a call: It’s Manole. He picked up, and he heard the groggy-confused voice of an acrobat ringing out with the delightful barks of Ana in the background to give him the image that oh, she must have woken him up, and oh, he’s smiling. They chat for the night. As in. They meet up again, and the two take a quiet stroll out with Ana, and Istvan gets to vent, tell his story. (His little audience is quite expressive too, he noted. Loose red strings of disbelief and high-pitched barking. Dramatic flailing of arms, a growl.)

In the end, they have to rest. Manole and Ana depart (with Manole insisting that they continue their little interactions and that Istvan finally comes to one of his showings, he swore he’d make it worthwhile - Ana agreeing in her little pip), and Istvan is home. A home of memories. Bad, good, but a place that made him nevertheless and he supposed... he should probably go to that therapist Manole recommended. He gave his word that she was fine; she had helped him back then, too, when things were dire.

Solange was her name. And oh, she was understanding - the best, at least for his circumstances. He revealed his feelings, and she helped him through most of it - enough that he was in better shape than before. Enough that he can lift his head high even with his impressive stature. But - he did ask, out of polite curiosity. What was it that made her want to be a therapist?

And it was an easy answer, the way she’d told it. A deadbeat father, a single mother with a cat and her father - her own grandfather. She had been... rebellious, in a sense, and she was a menace to her family. They had financial issues, relationship issues, the works. It was only until they’d discovered the (grand)father dead that things really started to change. Viva la insurance money, they were able to handle most of the debt and loans. She felt more inclined to... help, seeing as how badly-shapen her mother was, mourning and all. And during that - she realized it was something she wanted to pursue wholeheartedly.

Overall, they’re happy. Istvan and Manole eventually get together (after a long amount of time, only when Istvan was ready to open himself up again - easier, when he’d started acting as accompaniment as (a tech) crew and occasional musical act in the streets and they realized how well they clicked). Ana thrives (with a few other secret nicknames that the others gave to her; well. She doesn’t mind.) Solange occasionally helped out in using her artistic skills with some of the advertisements.

They’re all comfortable. They’re living.

That is all.

SUMMARY:

・[Overall] The canon diverges with Istvan actually noticing and recognizing the missing dog poster Manole put up. Manole and Ana are reunited. Istvan eventually divorces his wife and gets therapy from Solange, and Istvan is later friends (or more than that, ah-heem) with Manole.

・[Manole] Acrobat for that dreamy circus, but with a dog.

・[Ana] Dog! Beloved! Living! Happy! SO Happy. Maybe gets to meet her old litter of siblings again.

・[Istvan] No more toxic wife that tries to control and restrain him with false affections and silly desires built on creating a dumb image! Musical fun time! Also lifts and flexes.

・[Solange] On good terms with mother now! Grandpa is deader than dead but it’s for the better, promise. Insurance money and her mother made her realize she’d wanted to be a therapist. Occasionally does art for Manole’s circus thing.

No I did not proofread this. I do not care. I have self love, and this is, in fact, indulgent.

#[ watched it a second time earlier ahehe ]#[ ''I bet there's an au about this!'' -> The fandom does not exist therefore no. The AU doesn't. ]#[ (hashes out a whole verse after the movie like clowns) :handshake: ]#mushrium

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years

Text

Loop Number Three Hundred Twelve

Hello who wants a quick one shot about Time Loops!

Summary: Patton is having a really bad day, and Virgil and Janus might just have a fix. He just wishes he found them three hundred loops ago.

Word Count: 5453

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders

Read on AO3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Janus is folding origami snakes when Virgil finds him.

Which, in itself, is not new or unusual. Janus has been making origami creatures since before Virgil had ever met him: cutting perfect squares of papers, folding along invisible lines, creating something new from the boringness. Some people like making tiny stars, but Janus turns squares of paper into pocket sized friends. Some of Virgils’s favorite presents are books in which he found little purple and gold paper spiders tucked between the pages, or the cranes that he unfolded to find little sweet and sappy messages for him, or when he was emptying out his school bag and found butterflies hidden in the depths, left there with care and love and waiting to be discovered on a rainy day.

Janus folds origami and Virgil keeps every single one he’s ever gotten his hands on-- sometimes even going as far as to dig the few Janus recycled out of the bin and keep them in his collection.

So the origami isn’t necessarily new or weird or confusing.

Finding him behind the school building, cutting class to fold them is.

Janus is, despite his outward appearance and his claims to the otherwise, a huge nerd. Virgil finds that adorable about him: the way he gets excited to go to school and learn something new, the bounce in his step when he was heading towards his psychology class, the rumbling of his words when he forgot to take a breath while describing history to him. He’s a nerd who reads autobiographies with crappy romance novel covers strapped on them and begs Virgil to watch the new Netflix documentaries with him.

When they had been seven, Janus had been very adamant about being a host on the History Channel. Virgil had been interested as long as he got to be the guy that went out and found Mothman to invite on to Janus’s show.

(Sometimes Virgil finds himself missing the simplicity of being seven-years-old and knowing what he wants to do with his life.)

Still Janus isn’t the type to cut class usually. Playing hookie was Virgil’s game, not his. But Janus hadn’t shown up to meet him outside his locker at the break between their classes, and Virgil had made the decision that locating Janus took priority over Personal Finance.

Its nice outside, far nicer than it has any right to be. The sun is shining, with just enough heat to make Virgil consider taking off his jacket (he doesn’t), a breeze carries through the air playing with his bangs, and the bells had just rang so everyone is in class and not outside. There’s barely any noise out here: a zombie apocalypse picturesque scene. It used to unnerve him, but now it just gives him peace of mind.

Behind the school is his fifth place to check, right behind: the far corner of the library that Janus likes to power nap in during lunch, the stairwell to the roof that is supposed to be locked but they’d jimmied open last year, Janus’s actual class where his seat was empty and several kids glanced at Virgil as he had scurried by, and the parking lot where Virgil checked to make sure that Janus hadn’t just driven away and left him in this hell alone without even a text message goodbye.

Janus is, in fact, still at the school, sitting in grass against the wall of the school that faces the parking lot. If Virgil hadn’t been looking for him, he might have mistaken him for a dark shrub or the Art Club's newest modern art installation. His bag is next to him, half his books spilling out into the lawn and at least a whole tree’s worth of folded paper around him. The piles of origami snakes remind Virgil of noodles, a mixture of colors and then twice as many in just plain white.

“Hey,” Virgil says, approaching slowly in case this is one of those times when Janus wants to be alone more than he wants to feel alone.

Janus folds another crease with the edge of his thumb nail and throws his sloppily made friend into the pile with the others. There’s a stack of pre-cut paper next to him, but it's all loose leaf paper. Which meant that he had folded his way through his stash of actual origami colored paper, which meant that he had been doing this since a lot longer than before second block, like Virgil feared.

Janus sighs thumping his head back against the brick walls and picks up another sheet. Virgil takes that as a sign to sit down next to him. He drops his bag off at his feet and reaches around the assortment of pins (Xmen, Marvel, gay flag, banned books week, one from a video game he liked the art of but had never played, etc) to unzip the smallest pocket. He pulls out another stack of the thin paper in an assortment of colors and places it on top of Janus’s current stack.

“So,” Virgil says, picking a snake off the ground. “Wanna talk about it?”

Janus flips the snake over and begins the process of folding the tail, ruthlessly. “Do I want to talk about it,” He echoes sourly, pressing each fold like it was a matter of life and death. “No, I do not want to talk about it. Because its stupid and a waste of time and I shouldn’t care but I still do and you have so many better things to do than listen to me whine about Patton Hart, yet again!”

Janus folds the head down and then stars into the empty eyes with a glare.

Virgil points his own snake at Janus and wiggles it a bit, “If its bothering you this much, then it can’t be stupid. And besides I love hearing about how much you hate Patton Hart. What did he do this time?”

“I don’t hate…” Janus lets out a sigh, “He didn’t do anything. In fact he didn’t even show up to class today. I heard a couple sophomores say he was acting funny earlier so I assume he went home early.”

Virgil frowns at that, trying to think back to the morning. He’d been running late and preoccupied with a Spanish test that he had forgotten he had first block, but he does remember seeing Roman and Patton in the halls. They hadn’t been holding hands like usual, which is probably why it stuck in Virgil’s head. They were the most lovey-dovey couple in the whole school: holding hands, kissing, flamboyant declarations of love... Virgil has nightmares about the way that Roman had asked Patton to Prom Junior year and had made Janus swear that if he ever plans on taking Virgil to a dance, he wouldn’t do it with glitter, the marching band, and in front of the whole school.

Patton had also looked different, Virgil remembers. Less cheery, more despondent. He had a smile on his face, but it looked forced and his eyes were glazed over like he wasn’t listening to anything at all.

Which, okay, fair. Roman tended to say the same things every day but phrased them differently. There were really only oh-so-many ways to say the words “I love you” and Roman had used up all of them in freshman year.

“So he wasn’t there,” Virgil says, shrugs, and takes a moment of silence to hope that Patton is getting some well needed sleep: Patton is one of those guys that just...finds a way to be involved with everything. Bake sales, choir, poetry club, talent show, office runner, treasurer of the student council-- if there’s something anyone needs to get done, Patton probably can do it. Not to mention he’s the nicest person Virgil has ever met. He honestly sees the good in people and its a shame that he’s dating Roman, because otherwise he and Janus would have invited him into their relationship a while ago.

(Roman isn’t exactly someone Janus or Virgil could stand on a weekly basis, much less daily. Virgil is pretty sure if Roman ever tried any romantic shit that he pulls on Patton, on Virgil he’ll spontaneously combust. Janus gets hives from being in close proximity to the gooey lovefest that Roman brings around any time he opens his mouth. And of course, Roman isn’t the type to share anything.)

((Ninety percent of their relationship these days is locking eyes while Roman did something and fake gagging like the mature adults they were.))

“What’s the big de--” Virgil stops, “Wait, isn’t debate today?”

“And take a guess who was my partner,” Janus summarizes. He tosses the snake to the ground and picks up another sheet of paper. “He...The Dragon Witch immediately failed me because he didn’t….and I couldn’t…”

He messes up the fold because his fingers are shaking too much. Virgil gently reaches out and takes the paper from his fingertips. It floats down to join the other snakes, and Virgil gives Janus’s hands a squeeze.

There’s a welt of anger in his chest, bubbling up in a nice simmer. He hates the Dragon Witch, although he’s never had her class or even knows her real name (Roman had coined the title in freshman year back when he had been a benchwarmer for the football team and it had caught on until the whole school used it). She’s known for being generally awful to every student that came in, a little unhinged, and even her own daughter-- a girl in the grade below them-- agrees that nobody wants to be in her class. Unfortunately, despite the many protests held by small pockets of students, the Dragon Witch has tenure and the school board’s stance is “if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it”. Ergo, she still lives on this plane of existence and Virgil thinks about egging her car often. Probably too often.

“Its stupid,” Janus repeats and the cavity where Virgil’s heart should be aches a little for him, “I know she’s had it out for me. Ever since that first day when I pointed out all the books on the syllabus were written by rich white men. But it was just… I felt really good about this one, Vee.”

Virgil knows this. Janus had been practically vibrating since the assignment had been given out. He’d gone above and beyond with his research for the topic-- something about selflessness that had gone straight over Virgil’s head when Janus had been talking about it. Patton hadn’t even been that bad of a partner, Janus had said, despite never having time to practice for it. They had exchanged numbers and texted details and notes to one another all week.

If Virgil hadn’t spent most of the afternoons lying next to Janus playing League of Legends and listening to Janus’s black pen scratch out preparation notes, he might have been jealous of how much attention Janus had been giving Patton. (and vise versa.)

“We were going to win,” Janus says softly. “And then Patton decided to just not show the fuck up! Why can’t I count on anyone but you? Why must I suffer in a world full of idiots?”

“Hey, at least he’s cute,” Virgil says.

“At least he’s cute,” Janus agrees, resignedly. “Do you think he’s going to break up with Roman?”

Virgil shrugs, “Do you want to ask him to join us if he does?”

“I would never pass up an opportunity to spite Roman like that,” Janus says, which is actually code for “I would never pass up an opportunity to dote on Patton and Virgil, do you think he’ll let us paint his nails, I have the perfect shade of blue to match his shoelaces--”

(They’ve had this conversation at least once every season since Janus had caught Virgil sighing at the smaller boy in the halls midway through freshman year.)

Janus wiggles his hands from Virgil’s and picks up the unfinished snake but its softer now, less angry and more care. When he completes it, he points it at Virgil and offers a guilty half smile.

“Sorry for making you miss class.”

Virgil wants to laugh because really that was the last thing on his mind right now. He shuffles through the snakes on the ground picking out his favorites to add to his collection. “Nah, its cool. You can just do my taxes and budgeting in the future and we’ll call it even. What are you gonna do with all of these?”

Janus hums, looking at all of them, “Maybe we can hide them around school to confuse people.”

“Can we write “you’re next” in a red pen on the inside of them?” Virgil asks with a grin, “like some horror movie shit?”

“Whatever you desire, darling,” Janus says and Virgil is incredibly grateful that he’s in love with his best friend. Virgil doesn’t usually count himself as lucky, but Janus had to be some kind of miracle: a person who understood Virgil the way that no one else ever bothered to. Janus has the type of laughter that makes everyone else want to laugh as well, the type of smile that begs for mischief, the type of loyalty that reassures Virgil no matter what happens they have each other’s backs.

Also he’s pretty, and Virgil likes staring at pretty things.

Janus leans forward and gives him a peck on his cheek. “Thank you.”

“You missed,” Virgil says with a stupid ass smile, because he’s stupidly in love and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Janus rolls his eyes very fondly and leans in again, until Virgil can see every shade of brown and green in his mismatched eyes, until he can feel Janus’s breath on his face, until Virgil loses track of the nanometers between them. Virgil’s eyes are half closed already, anticipating how the rest of their newly established free time is going to be spent and not feeling a speck of embarrassment or guilt about it--

And then he sees the movement out of the corner of his eyes and freezes up. He’s certain without looking that it is a teacher and oh god they were going to get expelled for something. There’s too much stuff around them-- their bags, the millions of snakes, their own bodies-- and even if they left everything there they’d surely get found out from that stuff, and then the school would call his mom and Virgil did not want to have that conversation with her again.

But then he does look and its not a teacher at all. Virgil blinks, once, twice to make sure he’s seeing things correctly.

“Virgil?” Janus says, still several centimetres away from kissing him and obviously aware of how Virgil had tensed to high hell.

“I thought you said that Patton went home sick,” Virgil says absently.

Janus sits back, following his line of sight to the corner of the building where-- sure enough-- Patton Hart was walking without a care in the entire world. He was dressed differently today than Virgil remembered him ever dressing: the memories of his polo and his cardigan give way to the reality of sweatpants and a soft sweater that cannot be comfortable in the heat of the day. Virgil tries to remember if that’s what Patton had been wearing earlier and… yeah it was. From this distance Virgil can’t tell the look on his face, but he doesn’t look like he’s worried at all.

He’s walking with a purpose. And that purpose looks angry.

“Does Patton have a car?” Janus asks.

“I don’t...think so…” Virgil says tracking Patton’s progress across the lawn.

“Then who’s keys does he have in his hand?” Janus says not entirely rhetorical.

With barely a nod between the two of them, they scoop all the paper snakes into Virgil’s bag and take off after him.

Its extremely weird, Virgil thinks. Because its so quiet that their footsteps sound like slaps, and they have to duck around a red truck to avoid Patton’s glance back. Janus crouches delicately, slinking between the cars and Virgil wastes a moment watching how gracefully he moves.

He’s like water flowing, controlled and effortless and an undercurrent of power. Virgil doesn’t doubt his ability to fight right this moment, doesn’t doubt his killer left hook, or his dirty fighting tactics that Janus picked up in the name of self defense and preservation. Virgil’s body hums with adrenaline as he watches Janus follow after Patton.

He leans against a jeep that doesn’t actually have a parking pass but no one’s complained about it and Janus peeks around the bummer to see where Patton was heading.

For a second, Virgil thought he was going after Janus’s car-- the little gold mazada 3 thats a year and a half old and a gift from his parents. He’s just about to yell, to scream, to ward Patton off, because it was already shitty of him to not show up to the debate, but touching Janus’s car? That’s like super assholeish and Virgil has never once wanted to call Patton an asshole.

Janus, however, is quicker and covers his mouth with his hand. “Look, I think...he’s crying,”

“What?” Virgil whispers, squinting-- oh shit, he should probably get an appointment to update his contacts soon -- and Patton is crying. Its the silent type of crying that's born from using a smile to hide the hurt too much and Virgil immediately decides that Patton doesn’t deserve that ever. He feels each one of those tears like a punch to the gut, each soft barely audible gasp like a knee to his jaw, each sniffle like an elbow to the back of his head.

Patton storms past Janus’s car and goes straight to the fiery red Prius that Roman (and his twin Remus) share.

“Oh my god,” Virgil breathes at the same time as Patton takes the blade of a key to the side of the car.

The noise is awful. Janus flinches curling into Virgil as they watch with morbid fascination: Patton doesn’t waver, doesn’t hesitate as he carves deep into the paint and the metal, perfecting each and every letter.

By the time he’s finished, he’s bawling big fat crocodile tears that soak all turn all his cheeks puffy and soak the collar of his sweater and Virgil’s stomach is a twisted knot of emotions he doesn’t know what to do with.

“FUCK OFF” written on the side of Roman’s car explains things very well, anyway.

Patton drops the keys on the ground and then follows after in such a dead weight fall that Virgil feels the shockwaves from where he is. He curls in on himself, sobbing horrible, gut-wrenching howls of pain.

Janus leaps around Virgil to run after him, and Virgil only stumbles slightly trying to come with him.

“I didn’t…” Janus says, loudly--loud enough to make Patton jump and Virgil flinch and the empty parking lot feel crowded, “I didn’t know you were into Modern Art, Patton.”

Virgil thinks that if it were any other situation, he might have snorted. But when Patton turns to them with his blue eyes so full of tears that Virgil thinks he might drown in them, he forgets every other thought he has had.

Its just...rage.

“I’ll kill him.”

And Virgil means it, the same way he says that the sky is blue, or that he won't take off his sweatshirt, that he loves Janus with all his soul. He means that he will go right back into that building and search through every single fucking classroom until he finds wherever Roman spends his third class of the day and then he’ll drag him out to the parking lot by his stupid perfect hair and run him over a couple hundred times.

Virgil will go to jail for manslaughter and he wouldn’t even feel sorry.

Patton lets out a shuddering sob and frantically tries to wipe away his ugly tears, making noises that Virgil assumes are meant to be words but they come out scrambled and grated and wrong. And Patton who’s never done a single mean thing in all the time that Virgil has known of him, does not deserve to feel a hurt that bad. How dare Roman make him feel a pain that bad.

Virgil rolls up his sleeves and spins on his heel to go take care of the issue-- but Janus catches him by his hood and yanks him back.

“Patton,” Janus says softly (a tone that's normally reserved for two AM sleepovers and lazy saturday movie marathons and sad boi hours that come and go like the seasons), “What can we do?”

Patton lets out a shriek, and when he looks back up there’s no sadness. Its a fury, an anger, its frustration that boiled into a suffocating gas and Virgil guess that he’s not going to need to end Roman’s life because Patton is perfectly capable of doing himself.

“You can shut the hell up!” Patton screams, “And Leave me the fuck alone!”

Virgil and Janus share a look.

And well...Virgil has been breaking rules since he was a kid and Janus isn’t the type of follow orders simply because. Without discussing anything they both sit down next to Patton, and Virgil starts pulling out the origami paper again.

“What are you doing?” Patton hisses in a way that Virgil has never once seen him do. His fingers shake, but he keeps himself calm and cool and collected.

“Its called origami,” Janus says, although he knows very well that’s not what Patton was asking. Virgil watches his fingers flick in the air, a mesmerizing dance that once Patton looks at he couldn’t look away from.

Patton’s tears drop, his face is still puffy and dangerous, but Janus says nothing about it. Virgil holds his breath and watches as Janus folds, unfolds, pinches, twists the paper into a jumping frog. He sets it out on his palm and lets Patton stare at it like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“I like making things when I get upset,” Janus says. “Would you like me to teach you?”

“I…” Patton sniffles, rubbing away his tears again. He sounds so small and insignificant that Virgil wants to wrap his arms around him and protect him from everything. “Why…?”

“I know how to do many animals,” Janus continues on, “frogs, snakes, spiders, cranes… Or we can just fold paper in any way we want to, too.”

Patton is silent. Janus picks up another piece of paper and begins folding it in half. There’s a breeze through the parking lot, colder than before, bitter and smarting. Virgil tugs the sleeves of his jacket over his hands and tries not to wonder what happened to the sun.

“The motion is calming to me,” Janus explains, “I like the creation of something new and different, the repetition--”

There’s a huff.

A snort.

And then...well then Patton is laughing a terribly wet, mean laugh. Janus pauses halfway through folding the head of the frog to make sure Patton hasn't been replaced by a skinwalking alien wearing Patton’s face, and Virgil can’t really blame him at all. The small boy kneels over laughing so hard he ends up gasping for breath and Virgil shivers at how the noise steals all the warmth from the air.

“Fucking stupid,” Patton manages, through gasps that sound suspiciously like whimpers. “Everything is so fucking stupid.”

“I see someone taught the five-year-old a new swear word,” Janus says. “Who was it? Remus?”

“Just go away, Janus,” Patton says, laying his head on the asphalt.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Janus tuts finishing off his second frog, “You really don’t know where that piece of road has been.”

“Actually I do!” Patton bolts upright, “I do know! Its been right here! Its been here no matter what’s happened, never moving, never changing, and even if I marked it with chalk or paint or took a jackhammer to it or blew it the fuck up it will still be here when I wake up tomorrow! Now fuck off!”

Virgil blinks, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly.

“I am learning so many things about you today, Patton,” Janus says without missing a beat. He picks up another sheet of paper, “You’re into modern art, you’re passionate about parking lots...my, my, my. Perhaps we should have done our debate on road construction instead. Would you have bothered to show up then?”

“Like it matters.” Patton says, even more unlike himself. Virgil thinks he’s seen Patton overbook himself for commitments more times than he can count and apologies are nearly always coupled with food of some sort: cookies, fudge, pasta salad. Sometimes even to things he never even said he could be there for. Patton is more apologetic than Virgil ever has been, and Virgil likes to apologize for existing.

But here is a Patton, or a version of him, that seems so defeated, so angry, so sad and upset and miserable that he’s just...given up. Consequences be damned.

“We lose,” Patton says looking up at the sky, “We lose because Mrs. Hydrus hates you, Janus, and so she makes us do it without any notes, then every time you stumble, she interrupts and asks for clarification despite being the moderator, and she cuts down our time by a whole minute. And when you say anything back to her she sends you to the principal's office and gives us a zero for the assignment, anyway. We lose. But its fine because you never remember anyway and then you get to wake up and be humiliated all over again. And it doesn’t matter what I do! Okay? We lose!”

Janus stops folding his frog and turns to look directly at Patton. Virgil is too, and he can scarcely breathe.

“What did you just say?”

Patton turns to face him swiping away another round of tears. “Go ahead, Virgil! You’re just like everyone else. Go and call me c-crazy! Tell me I’m insane! T-take me to the doctors! Whatever! I’m so t-tired of this and I can’t even die.”

Virgil swallows hard. There’s a lump in the back of his throat, a lump that’s growing until he can barely breathe around it. Janus brings a hand up to his mouth like he might be sick right there on the concrete.

“Patton…” Virgil breathes. “Are you a paper frog?”

Patton stares at him like he’s stupid so Virgil reaches out with shaky hands and picks up one of the finished frogs from the ground. He carefully unfolds it, piece-by-piece, until its back to the original square. Then he holds it up for Patton to see, and begins to refold it the way that Janus had.

“Are you,” Virgil asks, “being refolded like a paper frog?”

Patton’s face says everything.

“H-how,” Janus asks, “how many times?”

The other boy blinks long and slow and sniffles. “I-I don’t know. Around three hundred twelve? Maybe? I lost count so long ago.”

“Three hundred twel--” Virgil repeats, “Holy shit, Pat! That’s almost a year.”

“Why didn’t you come to us?” Janus asks, although they all know why really. Despite them being debate partners, Patton and Janus don’t talk. Janus and Virgil admire him from afar, and only talk to him in passing. For the longest time Virgil didn’t even know if Patton knew his name, and now they’re sitting here wondering why strangers would ever interact with one another?

“What about…” Virgil motions to the car, the keys, the fun words written in the red paint.

Patton shakes his head so hard his body trembles. “He doesn’t...he never...I tried so so hard but its so much easier to leave him be. It takes so much to convince him and then… then its not a true love’s kiss solution.”

Virgil’s gut twists just thinking about that. About how many times that Roman made him prove that he had seen everything before, and then for a kiss not to work when they both were head over heels in love with each other and then waking up again, convincing Roman again, then telling him the kiss didn’t work? Virgil could guess it didn’t go over well at all.

Knowing Roman it had probably dissolved into a “we’re not meant for each other?”, followed by a “i will always love you no matter what.” , and finished with a “If it will save you from this loop then we’ll have to break up”.

From the sight of the keys on the ground, Virgil can guess how far it went this time.

“I do love him,” Patton says almost desperately. “I do, I do, I do! I swear I love him so much--”

Janus puts a hand on Patton’s shoulder and he falls silent immediately. “I believe you,” Janus says, “I’ve seen the way you look at him, Patton. No one here thinks that the two of you aren’t perfect for each other.”

Its a pain to admit because its friendzoning both of them right now, but Virgil would weather that if it meant Patton wouldn’t sound so heartbroken. Janus meets his eyes over Patton’s shoulder and gives him a nod. At least they’re on the same page for this.

“Three hundred twelve time loops,” Virgil says, “does not sound like it was fun at all.”

“Are any loops fun?” Janus asks.

“Fruit loops are fun,” Patton sniffles again. He rubs his eyes and hunches over in his sweatshirt. “Do you guys...do you guys really believe me?”

Janus’s lips curve into a wry smile, “Patton in all the time that I can remember, I’ve never seen you have the guts to key someone’s car. And now you’re saying fuck? And telling me off? That's a whole lot of character development to happen without me noticing, unless it was a time loop.”

Patton giggles, just a bit. It's still weepy but it makes Virgil feel like he can breathe for the first time.

“Don’t worry, Pat,” Virgil says, “We’ll figure this thing out.”

“H-how?”

Janus sighed leaning back a little, “Well we could ask Logan.”

“Logan?” Virgil echoes, “you mean Remus’s boyfriend? You think he’s got something?”

Janus shrugs, “He is a witch.”

“A what now?” Virgil says. “Since when was he a witch! You never told me that!”

Janus grins sheepishly, and rubs the back of his neck, “I forgot? I love you?”

Virgil blows a raspberry at him. “Just like how I’m gonna forget to mention you when I find Mothman. But I love you, too.”

“Its a cruel love, this thing we have.” Janus says rather poetically and Virgil reaches over to shove his shoulder. Janus laughs sways so he falls onto Patton’s shoulder. Patton for his part smiles, bright and blinding and it takes both their breaths away when he laughs again.

Virgil can’t imagine having to redo the same day twice, much less three hundred times. He wonders vaguely if Patton has any idea how strong he is, how amazing, how inspiring he is to keep that glow inside himself despite everything.

He’s smile fades for a moment and he perks up all of a sudden. “Oh My Gosh! Logan’s a witch!” He makes a flurry of arm movements that forces Virgil to duck, “Oh my gosh that means--!!”

“Deep breaths, dear,” Janus suggests, although it goes ignored.

“Yesterday--like actually yesterday, your yesterday, not the last loop, Logan and Remus got into an argument over a bottle and I thought it was gatorade! Remus was trying to drink it but Logan wouldn’t let him and they ended up spilling it on the floor! I helped them keep it up but I got a little bit on my hand! I didn’t think too much of it but what if it was like some sort of potion?”

Janus considers it, “Hmmm, its a good starting place. Let’s go ask him what it was.” He stands up and offers a hand down to Patton and Virgil each. Virgil takes it and turns back to also offer his own hand to the smaller boy.

“Come on, Hart, this is going to be your last loop.” Janus says.

Patton stares at their hands almost as if he was afraid to take them. He glances down at the origami frogs, at the keys, and their bags, then back up at them with an fearful expression. “You...you promise?”

Virgil laughs, “Yeah, we got you, Pat. Promise.”

Patton shakes from head to toe, but he grabs both their hands and smiles like he has hope for the first time in three hundred twelve days.

#sanders sides #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Janus Sanders #sympathetic deceit #anxceit #roman sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #royality #moxceit #highschool au #time loop #Patton says fuck #but he's earned that right #Janus and Virgil are bffs #you can tear that from my cold dead hands

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