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princehrry-writings · 3 years

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Angel with a Shotgun

here we go. this popped into my head after i watched a tiktok about angel shots. if you go on a date and don't feel safe for any reason, please please please find a safe way to remove yourself!! asking for an angel shot is a great way to do that!!

WARNING: tw mentions of implied SA, stalking, harassment, police, EMT's, hospitals, alcohol, being drugged, swearing,

please don't read this if any of this stuff makes you uncomfortable. i don't get graphic with anything but still, put yourself first and be safe!! i love you <3

wordcount: 1907

Harry Styles x Reader

masterlist

It started off as a normal night. Y/n had met this guy in class and he’d asked her out for drinks. She didn’t get any bad vibes from him, none of her friends had heard anything bad about him, so she deemed him a suitable guy to go have a fun night with.

She’d met him at a bar just off campus and was having a really great night! The pair were dancing and talking and laughing, genuinely enjoying herself for the first time in a long time on a first date.

In Y/n’s experience, usually guys were creeps and girls never decided she was what they were looking for, so she had a hard time in the dating world. This guy, Jack his name is, seemed ok. Keyword being seemed.

She should have known. When he asked to meet her at a bar all the way across town, she should have put it together that he wasn’t what she was looking for. He didn’t put up too big of a fight when she insisted they meet at the bar closer to campus, that way she would know people there and be in a familiar place if she needed to get away from him quickly.

When he started making comments that were off putting to her, things she doesn’t really want to repeat in fear of actually vomiting all over the table, she starts looking for a way out. He keeps trying to play footsie with her under the table and is getting visibly frustrated at her lack of participation, so she tells him she’s going to get them another round of drinks after finishing the one that was already on the table and quickly exits the booth before he can protest.

Harry had been watching from across the room at the bar, seeing this couple who looked like they were on a first date. He watched as they laughed and talked, getting to know each other. But as the night went on, it seemed the woman was getting more and more uncomfortable.

He had told his coworkers to keep an eye out for the two in case anything was to go down, and when he sees her get up and make her way over to his bar, he has a feeling he knows where this is going.

“What can I get for you, love?” He asks her, leaning over the counter to hear her better. She sniffles a little, and takes a deep breath. Leans in before timidly asking.

“Can I get an angel shot?”

Harry’s senses are quickly kicked into gear and he nods, gesturing to his coworker that he’s gonna get this taken care of before meeting her on the other side of the bar. What neither of them had realized was that 1. Jack was walking up to them and 2. he had slipped something into her drink apparently because suddenly she could barely hold her own body weight. Harry caught her before she hit the ground and Jack rushed over, playing the part of concerned boyfriend but the bartender saw right through it.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to back up.” He tells the man, authority very present in his voice. Jack doesn’t take well to this, eyebrows furrowing and voice lowering in defense.

“S’cuse me mate, but I’m gonna take my girl home. She’s had a few too many, f’you know what I mean.” He chuckles and goes to scoop her up. Harry stops him, putting a hand on the guy's chest, stepping between the girl and this guy.

“You'll do no such thing. This girl has obviously been roofied and it’s you she was running away from. The only thing you’ll be doing tonight is talking to the police, who are making their way in right now to do with you what they will.” Harry says, watching the color drain from this bloke's face. He turned around, ready to make a full run for it but was stopped by not only the police but also a crowd of other guys who heard what was going down and were ready to step in if assistance was needed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong here! She was trying to take advantage of me!” He cries as he’s put in handcuffs and taken away.

“Yeah, it’s obvious the one who’s passed out cold because she was drugged was trying to take advantage of you.” Harry yells after him before turning around and scooping the girl into his arms. Due to the commotion and the presence of not only police but also paramedics, the premises was cleared and the bar was shut down for the night. Harry held the passed out girl close to his body, having had his coworker fetch his jacket from the break room to keep her warm now that the club wasn’t filled with body heat, and waited for the paramedics to come in for her.

When they come in and place her on the gurney, she starts to stir. Little whines and groans escape from her and the EMT’s check her vitals, deeming her stable and letting Harry know she’s going to be ok. He decided to follow to the hospital just so she has a familiar face when she wakes up and has someone to explain her situation that isn’t a scary doctor.

. *

It’s a few hours of unrestful sleep at her bedside and his co-worker showing up with a change of clothes for him when she finally starts to come to.

Groaning and reaching up to hold her head but realizing her arms are too heavy to move, she rasps out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Harry explains, wanting to reach out and hold her hand but not wanting to startle her, “You’re ok but the doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation.”

“You’re the bartender I asked for the angel shot aren’t you?” She questions after a pregnant pause. He hums a confirmation and she looks over his face a few times, before tears well in her eyes.

“What happened?” A few tears fall from her eyes. She can’t remember much after leaving the table, just the sight of green eyes and curly brown hair nodding at her when she asked for the shot. The rest is pretty much a blur, just random flashes of scenes she can’t quite make out in her head.

“You came over and asked me for the shot and then a few minutes later you passed out. The bloke you were with slipped something in your drink. And unless something happened at the table that I didn’t see, then nothing else happened. Do you remember anything happening at the table?” He explains, hoping her answer is no.

He’d learned her name from the EMT’s who checked your ID once you were loaded into the ambulance but he didn’t know the name of the man she was with. He realizes she doesn’t know his name either.

“No, was just being a sleazy dick. I don’t know how he could have slipped me something, I didn’t get up before I went to you. Must’ve turned my head for a bit too long. God, I should’ve known this was gonna happen!” She groans but he shakes his head.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, darling! He’s a sleazeball, a no good lowlife. S’not your fault.”

“What’s your name?” She voices, peering into his pretty green eyes.

“M’Harry,” he smiles, timidly reaching for her hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the soft skin.

“Thank you for staying with me Harry! For helping me…” Y/n says quietly. He shakes his head with a small smile.

“No need to thank me, pet. Would do it over and over again.”

Her smile, while tired and defeated, was enough to show him her gratitude. She feels a weight lift off her chest, hearing that nothing bad happened after she got to him.

She knows it’s probably just nightingale syndrome, but Y/n thinks Harry is terribly adorable. With his messy brown curls and tired green eyes that make it look like he hasn’t slept in ages. She thinks she could see herself going out with him, which is an odd thought considering what happened last night. You’d think that would be enough to turn her off to men for good, but there's just something about him. But now isn’t the time to bring any of that up.

“I’ll call a nurse, tell em’ you’re awake.” He voiced, making his way to the door after gently placing her hand back on the bed.

. * .

“Ms. I’m just calling to let you know the restraining order has gone through. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Y/n felt a weight lift off her chest. After months of being harassed and stalked, she would finally be left alone. Harry leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, stroking the loose hair out of her face.

“S’ finally over, lovie. It’s all over!.” He whispered in her ear, pulling her closer to him, rubbing up and down her thighs. She felt tears spring to her eyes, tears of relief, tears of joy, but also tears of sadness because the last few months had been some of the hardest of her life. She was ready to move on and be done with this nightmare.

When Jack had found out Y/n and Harry got together after that night, it’s like it activated something inside him. Like he thought she was just playing hard to get and he had to literally stalk her to get her attention. He seemed to think she was playing a game. Somewhere in his twisted little mind he had the audacity to think she actually wanted him.

He’d sit right next to her every single class period and would get up and move next to her when she tried to get away with him. He’d show up at her house, sitting across the street just watching her front door, he’d call her phone and text her, he’d wait outside her other classes and follow her around campus. She complained to her university, told them what was going on and they didn’t really do anything. She went to campus security and they brushed it off because “She wasn’t in any danger. He just wants to get to know you.”

So she finally was forced to file a restraining order. Her case was still open, from when he got arrested that night at the bar. They're charging him with second degree assault and criminal harassment because apparently she’s not the only girl he’s done this to. Many other women had spoken up since news of that night had spread around campus. Yet still, the university did nothing.

Harry stood by you every step of the way, picking up the shattered pieces on hard days. He wanted to beat the shit out of this guy and he would if it wouldn’t interfere with the case. He knew you needed him and he didn’t want to chance anything.

There was a pregnant silence between the two lovers. Just letting the silence wash over them, letting themselves breath freely without this weight suffocating them, they basked in it.

It wasn’t completely over, because there was still a trial, but he wouldn’t be coming around without getting arrested again.

That was enough for Y/n to breathe easy.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #x reader #harry x reader #bartender!harry #bartender!harry styles x reader #bartneder!harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #bartender!harry styles #tw sa #one direction #fan fiction #one shot #angel shot

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urimaginespimp · 3 years

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How You Get The Girl (This Love Final Part)

Bucky x Reader (elemental witch)

Set on TFATWS last episode

Note: Thank you to everyone that's tuned in, gave feedbacks, and liked/reblogged. I had to so much fun writing these! After this I’ll be working on oneshots completely unrelated to this story of several prompts.

We got a new Cap!

Previous Part: Untouchable

Marvel Masterlist

--------

“I’m serious, Shuri. I am over him.” you groaned as Shuri won’t wipe off the smug, disbelieving look on her face.

“Sure, Jan.” She replied getting up to continue on what’s she’s working on.

“Hey, I know that reference!”

“I’m just saying... Seven years of pinning over the guy – which five of it was when he was practically dead, by the way – and you’re telling me it took one confrontation for you to get over him.” She shrugged.

Some of the Dora Milaje were also in the lab, and you haven’t been vocal about it, but you didn’t miss the knowing looks they’ve been exchanging every time Bucky was brought in the conversation.

“Well, it would really be nice if you’re being supportive right now.” you sulked in your seat. Yeah, who were you kidding. Maybe you’re not completely, completely over him, but now you’re sorting to the fake it ‘til you make it method and so far, you’re doing well.

“Okay, fine. Want me to set you up with someone? My brother has some contacts around the world and I think with some buttering up he’d consider setting you up to bachelor royalties.” She wiggled her brows at you.

“May I suggest the Prince of Brunei? The internet says he’s looking for a wife.” One of the ladies snickered, making the others hum in approval.

“T’Challa knows him?” this piqued your interest. “He’s pretty hot.”

“Well make up your mind. It’ll take me a few business days of persuading my brother.” She raised her brows at you.

“It wouldn’t hurt to start dating. I’ll think about it first.” you muttered, missing how Shuri winked at the other ladies in the room. Ayo had told her in private about Bucky’s little confession to Zemo, and the princess has a few tricks up her sleeve to speed up the matchmaking process.

“I’m only staying for a few days more. It’s been a few weeks and Val’s been complaining from lack of sleep.” She’s been taking over your nightly escapades, and it’s starting to irritate her to be surrounded with so much booze but not being able to indulge.

Just then, Okoye enters the lab. “Check the news. There’s a live coverage of a hostage in New York. Sam and White Wolf are on it.”

--------

Bucky was looking over proudly as Sam was talking to the Senator.

Seeing Sam now walking over to him, he straightened up and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I uh was texting and all I heard was um a black guy in stars and stripes.”

They both chuckled, now walking side by side. “Nice job, Cap.”

“Thanks.”

--------

He’s done it. He told Yori the truth. Though now that might have been the end of their friendship, he knew the old man deserves the closure for his son.

Now back in his apartment, he took the notebook Steve once owned from his pocket, and opened it to the page where his list is. Looking over it, he saw that the only name left uncrossed is yours.

Just then, his phone pinged twice. One message was from Sam, and the other one from Shuri.

Sam’s read:

I wasn’t kidding when I told you

back on the boat that I’d get the

younger ones here to give you a

crash course on romance.

Check your email.

He rolled his eyes and opened the one from Shuri.

Y/N’s explained everything to us.

We saw you save those people,

White Wolf. Wakand is proud of you.

Brother says you’re welcome to

visit anytime. Take care!

p.s.

It’s good to know Y/N and you are

are on good terms. It finally allowed me

to set her up with one of the princes

mother’s been pestering me about. One less

off of mother’s list for me.

“Damn it, Shuri.” he groaned, reading the last part over and over again. He had to move fast. Heading over to his email, he opened the one from Sam.

The subject says:

21st century romance for reformed dummies.

There was an attached 60-second video. Clicking on it, he chuckled when Sam’s voice started booming behind the camera, where it showed two young girls and one boy, all around below 10 years of age.

“Okay, I gathered you here today because a cyborg friend of mine is need of help. I already filled you in the details necessary earlier, and all you have to do now is give him quick tips. Remember, talk slow.”

The boy on the middle spoke up. “Is she an avenger?”

“Not important, but yes. It’s the one with similar powers to an avatar.” Sam answered, followed by the two girls saying they know which one, and the boy to mutter ‘damn it I always had a crush on her...’

“Okay the first step would obviously be to say sorry.” the girl on the right said directly to the camera.

“Oh! Extra points if you do it standing like a ghost outside her door and it’s about to rain.” the other girl from the left perked up.

“I said he’s a cyborg, not a weatherman.” Sam commented, still behind the camera.

“Say you were afraid to tell her what you want.” the first girl spoke again.

“Six months is a long time to be afraid, man.” the boy in the middle spoke up this time.

“Try years.” Sam muttered.

“Then you say you want her for worse or for better!” The cheery girl exclaimed once again.

“You’ve been playing too many fake weddings, but yes, that could work.” Sam told her, making her beam, showing a missing tooth.

“Tell her you could wait forever and ever.” the boy added.

“I mean he’s already old enough to be your great grandpa but go on I guess.” Sam was snickering, causing the camera to slightly shake.

“Remind her of how it used to be. That is if he was good to her.” the more mature girl was pointing out. “Saying you’ll put her heart back together could also work.” she smiled, and the other one fake swooned on where she was standing.

“She’s right!” she exclaimed, while boy nods and says “that’s how it works.” at the same time.

Now turning the camera, Sam was now in frame.

“And that’s how you get the girl, Barnes. Straight from the local’s experts. Don’t fuck it up.”

And three voices scolded him for saying a bad word as the clip ends.

--------

It didn’t take long for him to take a flight straight to Norway where New Asgard was. This time without the aid of Zemo’s jet, he had to find the means to travel from the airport, while trying to calm his nerves.

As if the universe was on his side, a couple claiming to be heading back to Asgard allowed him to hitch a ride with them.

Now on the backseat, he tried to make small talk.

“So, uh, how are you guys settling in the planet?” he asked.

The lady on the passenger seat turned to face him with a smile. “It wasn’t easy, really. But the princess went out of her way to educate us about life here on Midgard. She’s so good at it, you’d forget she hasn’t even been living here a decade.”

He smiled. They claim you as their princess despite only being adopted by Thor. He recalls how you once rambled about being scared that they’d be indifferent towards you once Thor brings you to Asgard, one of the reasons you’ve been making up excuses to go with him.

“Why, would you look at that. We’re just in time before it starts raining.” The man driving commented.

Peeking through the window, sure enough, the sky was getting darker.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” he muttered. He might just take the little girl’s advice after all.

After getting out of the couple’s car, he ran straight to where he remembers your home was, just in time when Val just got out of your house.

“Hi. I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Bucky.” He greeted extending his ahand to her which she took. A skeptical look on her face.

“Call me Val. I’m sorry what are you doing here?”

“I need to speak to Y/N, please.” He answered truthfully.

“Well it’s about night time so she’s getting dolled up.” She answered

“I know, I know, it’s for her date. But that’s why I’m here.”

Val raised a brow, confused about what date he was getting all bummed about when you were only getting ready to go back to looking out for people out and about at night. But then it dawned to her that maybe this was some of your friend’s doing.

“Y-yes... the date.” She decided to play along, holding back a smirk. Just then, rain started slowly pouring, along with thunder. “Well shit, I have to help some folks get their kids back inside their homes now. You’re free to knock on her door.” She excused herself.

His own clothes were starting to get drenched when he finally knocked on your door.

No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Now footsteps were heard coming to the door, and the knob turned as you opened it.

“Damn it, Val, the door’s not even lo-” You stopped talking, surprised at the figure that greeted you.

“Bucky... are you insane? Don’t just stand there, come in it’s raining hard.” he urged him to get in and closed the door behind you.

Facing each other, he was taking you in. Val wasn’t lying when she said you were getting ready for your date. He can’t believe he was already getting jealous of a faceless punk.

“So uh... what brings you here?” You decided to break the ice, fidgeting where you stood, still barefoot as it looked like you were gonna have to stay at home if it was going to rain this hard all night.

“Don’t go on the date.” he pleaded, confusing you.

“What?”

“Please don’t go on the date.” He repeated, now walking towards you.

There is no date, but now you were wondering why he’s telling you not to.

“Why?”

“I love you.” he answered without missing a beat, now stepping closer to you. Instead of the reaction he was hoping for, you scoffed and took a step back.

“Don’t pull a Laurie on me.” you replied, a frown etched on your face. He was confused.

“A Laurie?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen enough adaptations of Little Women to know that you’re pulling a Laurie on me.” You spat as a matter of fact. “You’re being really mean, stop it.” you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“What? I- I haven’t even thought of that reference!” he defends himself, cheeks reddening from embarrassment. “Amy was gonna get married, Y/N.”

“Oh then by all means, feel free to come back just after he proposes.”

“W- We’re getting sidetracked here, doll. I came here hoping there still an ounce of you that loves me. Please don’t tell me you’ve completely moved on from me.”

“What, like it’s hard?” you replied. It surprised you when his brows shot up from recognition of that line.

“Now you’re pulling an Elle Woods on me!” he pointed at you in an accusatory manner.

“Don’t point that finger at me, Barnes. How was I even supposed to know you’ve seen that movie?” you rolled your eyes, walking past him.

“I watched all the movies you told me about back in Wakanda.” he spoke up, making you stop in your tracks to face him again.

“Yeah, that’s right. I watched every movie, I listened to every song, read every book you recommended, and visited every internet site you once said I might like. I was always listening even when I made it seem like I wasn’t.”

You stared at him for a second looking for any indication that he was lying. Recovering from the mild shock, you pursed your lips. “I hope you know the Porn site was a joke. Sam did it to Steve once and I just thought it was hilarious.”

His mouth twitched. Walking over to you once more he stopped when he was only a step away, not breaking eye contact.

“I’m really sorry, Doll. I know it’s bold of me to even ask you, but please give me the chance to make it up to you. And I don’t care if it’s me that has to wait for you this time. Take all the time you need, just please don’t go on that date.”

“Bucky, there was never a date. I have no idea what date you were referring this entire time.” you confessed, making him bring his hands to his face and groan, muttering Damn it, Shuri.

Hearing Shuri’s name, you put two and two together. “Is this about Shuri trying to set me up with a prince?” he nodded as answer. “Well, I did tell her I was gonna think about it.”

He removed his hands away from his face. “Please say no.” He whispered. “I’d tell you what the kids told me what to say if I have to.”

“What kids?”

“Sam got a bunch of kids on video to teach me how to win you back. I’ve already stood under the rain outside your door just like what one of the girls suggested.” Judging from the grin on your face, he was now regretting even mentioning them.

“Well go on, then.” you urged. “Let me see how much you’ve learned.”

“The first time I saw you at the airport, I got so distracted looking at you just casually sitting on top if the ramps while we were preparing to fight. That wink you sent me that day is still engraved in my mind by the way. Then I was so taken back when you bluntly told me you’re attracted to me. I-”

“I don’t think the kids taught you to remind me of my attempts to flirt with you.” You cut him off, embarrassed at the memory. He chuckled at your expression.

“Okay, okay.” he took a deep breath.

“I think I started catching feelings for you the moment they woke me up from my cryosleep and you were there to be the first one to welcome me back. I didn’t think you were still gonna be there like you told me. But you were there, beaming at me like a ray of sunshine. All my years under HYDRA, every time I was woken up, I was only ever treated as an asset. But you welcomed me like I was a friend.” his eyes were starting to get glassy with tears, as he tried not to choke up.

“And then every time you were near, or even when I’d get a whiff of your perfume, I’d start feeling all warm inside and my entire body would be at ease, knowing you were an arm's reach from me. You were the last one I saw as I disintegrated from the blip, and you were the first one I sought out the moment we came back.” he was surprised when you reached forward to wipe away a tear he didn’t even realize had run down his cheek.

“I lied when I said I made a mistake kissing you. It was the first thing I wanted to do the moment I saw you again. But something inside me was always telling me that all I could ever be is someone grateful for your kindness. That it was impossible for the universe to even grant me someone like you after everything I’ve done." He let out a breath before continuing.

"But it was also you, Steve, Sam, and heck – even Zemo– that made me realize that I am worthy of a chance. And I’m sorry it had to take you telling me you were moving on, to have the courage to accept and take the chance that has been long offered to me by the world." He took your hand and gave the back of it a small kiss.

"I love you, Y/N.” Now it was him that had to wipe away your tears away. “Please don’t cry, doll. That wasn’t-”

“Just fucking kiss me already, James.” you laughed, in between sniffles.

He grinned down before you. “You’re my angel with a potty mouth, and I love you.” he whispered, leaning down.

“I love you too."

---------

You and Bucky were out with the Wilsons on their community's afternoon barbeque.

Sarah and you got along with ease, and she was telling you all about their old family business when Bucky hugged you from behind.

"Sorry to interrup, ladies, but I have to show you something Y/N." he said, kissing your cheek.

"Ew, man. I still can't believe your old ass has a girlfriend." Sam commented beside Sarah who was laughing

"You do know I'm older than him, right?" you chuckled.

"I know, but you don't look it." he replied, causing Bucky to flip him off.

Excusing yourself, both of you walked by the docs.

"What's up, old man?" you grinned at him.

"You know what, doll. Most couples would have endearing nicknames for each other."

"I'll call you something sweet once you tell me what that thing you call me when we're alone means."

"What, мое солнце?"

"Yeah, that one! Tell me or else I'll keep calling you ridiculous ones." you threatened, trying not to smile.

"Anyway, мое солнце, I just wanted to show you a text I got from Shuri."

I am yet to have any news that you

manned up and told Y/N you love her,

White Wolf. I was joking before, but now

I really might set her up on a date.

You both chuckled at Shuri's threat.

"I got this." you pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialled her number. You placed it on loud speaker once she picked up.

"Y/N! So nice of you to call."

"Hey, Shuri! Listen..." you feigned seriousness in your voice before releasing a deep breath. "I'm finally over Mr. Smokey eye. I think I'm ready to go on that date now." Bucky was playfully glaring at you for the nickname.

There was dead silence from the other side of the line for a second. "Oh! About that... uh turns out he already has a girlfriend. Planning to propose soon, I heard. Oops!"

"Well that's a bummer. How about the other bachelor royalties your family's friends with? I recently found an article with a list. I can send you one right now. Preferably ones that don't look much like blue-eyed grandpa." you grinned at him as he rolled his eyes. He knows what you were trying to get him to do.

"Uh... turns out my brother isn't that friendly after all." She let out an awkward laugh. "Hasn't Barnes contact you at all?" you could hear the frustration in her voice.

"Oh, that discount prophet, I haven-"

"It means my sun." He finally caved, rolling his eyes.

"What?" you asked him, immidiately forgetting that Shuri was still on.

"WHAT?" she screamed through the phone after a second.

"мое солнце means my sun." he grinned at you.

"Is that Barnes with you?! Hellooo?!!!"

"Talk to you later, princess." you turned off the call when she was about to protest. Facing him again, you stepped closer and put your arms around his shoulders, both of you sharing a grin.

"I love you, мое солнце."

"I love you too, minn stjarna."

"You gonna tell me what that means?"

"You wish."

fin.

--------

@eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit @tanyaherondale @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @eliwinchester-barnes @ebxny27 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @fadingdreamersportsmaker @drama-queen-aa

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

Text

~ 𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ~

Part I

All picture rights to their respective owners.

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥: Photographer!hyunjin, fem!model!reader, manager!Bangchan, stylist!Jisung, agedup!straykids, SMUT IN LATER PARTS, fluff, character driven story, strangers to lovers, summer au, mentions of insecurity, love at first sight.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 3,5 k

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: I have never written a series before so please understand if it’s lacking heh... and yes the title does relate to the kooks song with the same title so do give it a listen because it’s really good and fits the story c:

also this starts slowly LMAO MORE FUN THINGS ARE COMING UP I SWEAR <33

If you have any feedback I’m more than happy to receive it! <3

Taking pictures of you - MASTERLIST

ONE｜TWO｜THREE

Working as a model was not easy. The complaining managers and the expectations by others was too much to handle. Heck, even getting to the shooting locations was a hastle most of the time.

You tilted your head against the window in the backseat of the taxi. It was a calm august wednesday. The late summer breeze made it’s way into the cab thorugh the window that was opened on the drivers side. Your phone screen lit up, multiple notification from Instagram.

“omg! slay bbygrl”

“her face is crazy pretty”

“beautiful”

You’ve heard these words too many times. If you’re told the same thing over and over again they eventually mean nothing. You scrolled through the other comments on your latest instagram post, a photo from your last photoshoot. A picture of you lying in a bed of white flowers, your skin glowing and your body covered by a white sheer dress that accentuated your neck. It’s not a bad photo but was I really worth the attention? “There are a thousands of other girls way prettier than me.” you though and with a sulken expression you watched life run by outside the window.

15 minutes later you arrived at your agency. You smiled your model smile at the taxi driver to which he smiled back and responded: “My pleasure, miss y/n”.

A big shadow was cast from the building in which the modeling agency was. The beige renaissance building was surrounded by green bushes and a black fence. The big oak entryway had golden lion knockers and an ingraved golden sign. “Eccellente Modeling Agency” it said with bold black letters, contrasting nicely with the gold plate. You rang the doorbell next to the sign and in a matter of seconds the oak gates opened with a loud creak.

“Y/n!! You look stunning as always!” said your manager Bangchan as he hugged you. The smell of his aftershave violated your olfactory sense as usual, making you scrunch your nose. He was always dressed business casual, his white polo shirt and light brown dress pants being a good example but today his poloshirt had a great amount of buttons unbuttoned.

The both of you made your way into his office. A room with a high ceiling and a chandelier worth more than your career. You sat down in the leather couch across the desk, Bangchan sitting on the other side of it.

“Give me a moment.... Just pulling up some files for the new photoshoot I’ve planned! I promise, you’re not gonna be disappointed.” he says smiling, the desktop screen reflecting in his brown eyes.

He turns his computer screen towards you. Your eyes scan the pictures that pop up.

“May I present to you the profile of Hwang Hyunjin. One of the most renowned photographers of this age”. Bangchan looks at you, reading your expression.

The pictures are truly beautiful. Everything, from the outfits to the lightning was perfect.

“Bangchan, you’re insane” you say, smiling widely as you made eye contact with the dark haired manager. “These pictures are so stunning!” you squeal. “How did you even get in contact with him?”

“Nothing for you to worry about y/n, I have my contacts. I’m a manager after all”. He scoffs whilst scrolling through the profile. The next picture getting better than the previous one.

“So... when is the shoot and what concept have you planned?” you say whilst your eyes are glued to the computer screen.

“Mr, Hwang works for a multitude of companies but Styliz needed a model for their new pastel collection which I immedietly snatched onto. We all know how beautiful you look in pastels y/n” he said attentively to which you smiled, adoring the interest he has for his work.

“Oh.. I also cheked your schedule and you seem free tomorrow so how about then?” he added.

“Yes! I’d love too” you said with a small nod.

“Not that you have much choice, Mr Hwang’s time is worth gold y/n” he laughed and reached for something in his cabinet drawers.

“Here, take this” he said while sliding over a light grey business card.

‘Hwang Hyunjin, Photographer’ was written in dark grey letters. A black border decorating the edges of the card.

♡

The morning sun shined thorugh the curtains blinding you temporarily. You felt after your phone on the nightstand with you hand, your eyes still closed. ‘8:05 am’ the screen showed against the background picture of your family.

You missed them, moving to a different city across the country at the young age of 18 was scary. You’ve aged, that’s for sure but you still missed them dearly. Dragging your lifeless body to the shower you hope for a day with happiness whilst the warm water hits your bare skin. It was a big day after all. A photoshoot with photographer Hwang Hyunjin. “Me... on Hyunjins work? It must be a dream...” you thought, grabbing the towel hanging on the cold, silver rack.

You dryed off your thick hair with a light pink towel with one hand whilst the other hand held your phone. “I have to look at his photos again” you thought, tapping on the Instagram icon and typing “Hwang Hyunjin” in the search bar, hoping and praying that his work was published on the social media platform.

“@ photographerHwang” was the first result to pop up and you tapped it instantly being just as surprised as you were yesterday of the beauty that his photos carried. Bumping into the table on your way to the kitchen you noticed a different photo on his feed. It didn’t look like any of the other photos because it was a selfie. You dropped your towel on the floor. No... it can’t be him... or could it?

His face looked like a work of art. Not only was the photo nicely edited with warm light emitting from your screen but the person was even more eyecatching. “It’s probably one of his models” you though as you placed your phone on the kitchen counter and grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge.

But what if it’s really him?

♡

You threw on a grey hoodie and biker shorts before you flew out to the taxi waiting for you outside the apartment.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting sir! Here!” you said while panting, quickly pulling up a text message you got from Bangchan sharing the location of the photoshoot.

“Please, Miss y/n! No need to apologize” laughed the middle aged taxi driver softly. You were now on your way to the shoot.

Your brain was scattered. One part of you hoped that Mr Hwang really was the boy you saw on his instagram. His long, blond locks slightly covering his sharp jaw. His skin clear as day and rosy lips plump like two rose petals. The other part shut everything down, convinced that it’s one of his models that happened to be to your liking.

You opened his instagram page again.

“He must be famous for his perfect features...” you said under your breath, staring at his lips.

The whole taxi ride was filled with thoughts of him, whoever he was.

“Soon there miss y/n” the taxi driver said after 10 minutes of driving. The taxi slowed down and looking outside the window you saw Bangchan standing infront of a building that looked similar to the agency building. You waved slightly and he waved back at you.

You turned around to the driver and said; “Thank you so much sir”, giving him a generous tip and exiting the vehicle. A warm breeze latches on to you, making your hair flutter in the motions of the wind.

“Y/n! Perfectly on time” Bangchan said and hugged you.

You hugged him back, asking him about his day so far to which he responded;

“Good but going to be even better after this legendary photoshoot is done and we have the most perfect photos taken by the most influential photographer!” he sounded like a little child in a candy shop.

Your ears heated up due to his words and you smiled slightly.

“Let’s go to the second floor and get your outfit and makeup ready. A introduction with Styliz manager won’t be needed since he already knows your delightful personality” he laughed at his corny remarks and you did the same.

“You seem even more excited than me” you remarked, pressing the elevator button.

“When you see the end result you will be floored” Bangchan said and winked at you.

The elevator clanged. “Second floor”. The metal doors slided open. The eyes of a dozen stylists and makeup artists caught onto you. A slightly potbellied man in a navy colored suit approached you.

“Y/n! I’m so happy to see work with you again.” His voice was hoarse due to his age but his personality being the total opposite. You knew him well since Styliz’s chief was one of the first to offer you a modeling job in a foreign city, you only being a teenager with a big dreams at the time.

“Mr. Styliz! It’s lovely to meet you again” you smiled and sat down in a makeup chair, a girl with blond hair and big hoop earrings starting to brush powder across your nose. You saw Bangchans figure leave behind a door in the reflection of the mirror.

“Mr. Styliz, might I ask you a question?” You regretted the words as soon as the came out of your mouth. You didn’t need more information about the mysterious boy you saw on Hwang’s instagram page but you simply had to know who is was.

“Well of course y/n” said Mr. Styliz, his warm breath touched your cheek as he stood right by your side, smelling of morning coffee and looking at you through the mirror.

“Could I please get more information about Mr.Hwang?” you said, making eye contact with the old man.

“y/n, you’ll meet him soon! Then you can ask him how much you would like about his life but I must warn you... He is quite the secretive type”. The coffee breath was accentuated as he laughed.

You tried to play along, laughing a fake laugh as the hair designer started to brush out your locks. A wave of embarrassment washed through you.

The lights of the makeup mirror were getting hot, tiny sweat drops beading on your forehead which the makeup artist wiped off.

“We are done, Miss y/n” said the makeup artist, her earrings reflecting the light in the studio. You thanked her and saw Bangchan standing at the door where the cameras were.

“y/n, not much time left. Please go down the hallway and into the second door on your left, the stylist is in there fixing your outfit”. One reason as to why you loved Bangchan as your manager was his calm temper. Even in a time crunch, he always made sure to talk to you in a serene tone. After years in the modeling industry you still couldn’t get used to the ill-tempered staff. Too many times you had been forcefully dragged down corridors and streets whilst they muttered swear words at you. Even thinking about it sends shivers down your spine.

Your shoes tapped the white linoleum as you made your way down the narrow hallway, knocking on the second door to your left just as Bangchan said.

A familiar voice said; “Come in!” to which you turned the golden doorknob on the white wooden door. The tall figure was rummaging in a big plastic container filled with clothes but upon your arrival the figure greeted you with warm eyes.

“No way!! It’s y/n!” screeched Jisung. He pulled you in to a hug, his belt buckle hit your stomach through the grey hoodie.

Jisung was a stylist and worked closely with Mr. Styliz therefore you’d gotten close to him. Not only did you like him for his exquisite fashion sense which had a whole different concept each time you saw him but also for his friendliness, always being polite.

“I’ve missed you so much Jisungie” you said with a pout.

“I though it was onesided but I guess not haha”

“Don’t be silly! How could I not miss that smile of your Sungie?” you hit him playfully on the arm to which he blushed.

“Go behind that and I’ll throw some clothes for you.” he pointed at the wooden divider standing in the corner of the white room filled with clothes racks and colorful clothing.

You started undressing behind the divider and suddenly a pile of clothing was thrown on your head over the divider. You heard Jisung snicker at the yelp that came out of your mouth as you drowned in the clothes

“Jisung, you are so dead when I’m done” you said whilst putting on the last details to the outfit.

“I’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry” he said pleadingly while laughing hysterically.

You stood on the podium infront of the full lenght mirrors in the room as Jisung observed you and pinned the clothes slightly.

“Not gonna lie, it’s looks really good on you. The pastels matches perfectly with your skintone.” Jisung looked on the pleaded white skirt you had on.

You looked in the mirror and shook your head in agreement. The pastel purple sweater with the white collar poking out made you look youthful and innocent. You had on patent mary jane shoes in the same purple color as your sweater. The white kneesocks were slipping down as you moved slightly, almost looking like a school girl as you bend down to lift the socks up.

“Do you like it?” Jisung looked at you through the reflection on the mirror, standing on the floor making him a head shorter than you.

“Yea! You’ve never given me a bad outfit Sungie, they’re always adorable. My favorite stylist but don’t tell that to Bangchan” you smirked to which Jisung laughed.

♡

“y/n, Jisung did a great job! You fit the concept to a tee” Bangchan stood infront of two wide dark green doors which led to the photostudio. He smiled shyly and pushed the doors open, a bright white light blinding you as you stepped in.

You squinted and held your hand infront of your eyes as you entered the studio, the air stuffy from all the white boxlights that have been working for a while.

“Miss y/n is here now, Mr. Hwang” Bangchan announced.

Your eyes felt blurry and the lights created a bokeh effect, your vision feeling like a filter. The first thing you saw was him. Hwang Hyunjin.

The shock froze your feet in one position. It was him. The selfie was Hyunjin. And he was hotter in real life.

A tall, slender figure stood on one foot, the other one behind his leg with the tip of the shoe pointing towards the floor.

“Are you ready, miss y/l/n?”.

His voice was sweeter than honeysuckle, you melted upon hearing him speak. Bangchan looked at you confused when you didn’t move, just observing the presence of the blonde boy infront of you.

“y/n?” Bangchan had a worried expression on his face as your face broke out in a massive blush.

“yeah..uh-mm..yes” you only managed to get that out before you were infront of the camera.

His willowy fingers wrapped around the black Canon camera, it fit perfectly in his hands as if it was made for him. You gulped upon seeing the veins that ran up his exposed arms, the white shirt bunched up by his elbows.

“Everything good miss? You seem distant” he said in that raspy but sweet voice.

“Uhm...yeah totally..” you looked awkward with your hands by your side as you saw Bangchan observing you with a confused gaze.

“Please tilt your head to the right and stand broad with your feet” Hyunjin commanded to which you complied. The flash of the big studio lights didn’t effect you as much anymore since you were used to this but what did effect you was how concentrated Hyunjin looked. Like a true photographer. It was obvious that he enjoyed his job by the way his eyes shined when he looked at the monitor and corrected every detail. Luckily you could stare at his figure all that you wanted since it looked like you were keeping eye contact with the camera and not him. Glancing over to the left of the photographer you saw Bangchan smiling his bright smile, signaling that he’s proud over you.

Flash

And another flash before Hyunjin looked at the monitor displaying the photos he just took, a smirk crept onto his face.

“Good job y/l/n. Could you please grab that chair over there and sit on the edge of it?” he said whilst pointing towards a small wooden stool. Reacting instantly to his soft voice and gestures you pulled the stool towards the x on the ground, making sure you were in frame.

“One leg over the other” Hyunjin said without even looking towards you, his pale veiny hands were now twisting and turning some buttons on both the camera and monitor. You shook your head up and down slightly in agreement before doing as told and as Hyunjin turned back his chocolatey brown eyes landed on yours. Now it was impossible to hide your burning cheeks, Hyunjin noticed since he laughed stiffly before grabbing the camera off the camera stand and going down on one knee to capture an angle from below. Numerous amounts of sparks from the big box lights were emitted and after every spark Hyunjin turned around to the screen which displayed your figure. Staring at him you smiled slowly, feeling your heart beat faster. Why do I feel like this by just looking at him? Your head was clouded with millions of other thoughts. Just as you started tuning out the room Hyunjin clapped his hands hard, the sound ringing in your ears. You jumped slightly which made Bangchan laugh.

“All done! Nice work everybody” Hyunjin announced loudly before bowing down to the other staff members in the room and to you as well. You returned his gesture by a slight bow of the head and quickly scurried of to Bangchan, your face hot.

“Are you sure you’re not ill?” Bangchan said softly before putting the back of his hand towards your forehead. Shaking your head from side to side you pushed his hand away.

“No, I’m fine... just so hot with the box lights you know?” you laughed fumblingly, not knowing where to rest your gaze.

You felt someone tap you on your left shoulder and you almost fainted when you turned around. Hyunjin was standing three footsteps from you, the scent of his cologne making you swoon. He smiled as he saw your shy expression and sparkling eyes.

“I though that it must have been hot, here have this”

He casually held out a waterbottle which you received with both hands as a gesture of thankfulness.

“y/n, I’m just gonna head off to Jisung to discuss something. Meet me at the changing rooms in about 10, ok?” Bangchan said, slightly leaning towards your ear.

“Yeah, see you in 10!” you said while the managers back disappeared through the broad doors of the studio. Turning back to Hyunjin his blond locks were draped infront of his eyes and as he spoke he tucked those light pieces behind his ear, revealing his small silver hoop earrings.

“I’m gonna pack up the cords now but it was a pleasure to work with you, miss y/l/n”

The corners of your mouth went upwards at his formality.

“Please, call me y/n” you said quietly, being too shy to look him in the eyes.

“Sure, see you around y/n” Hyunjin said as he lifted up his hand to shake yours. His lanky fingers were filled with bold rings, many of which were designer. A slight panic rushed through your mind as you didn’t want to scare him away with your clammy hands. The sweaty hands and the churning of your stomach was all due to Hyunjin nearness. Hesitantly you streched the tips of your fingers against the blond haired boy and his hand emitted warmth when being met with your fingertips. He smiled before turning back, his eyes forming into half moons as charming dimples errupted on his lean cheeks.

You bowed to the other staff members on your way out of the building on your way to meet Bangchan and Jisung in the changing room. The waterbottle in your hand almost slipped as you took another clunck of the fresh water and that’s when you noticed something. Stopping in the hallway where the stylists room was located you inspected the waterbottle and saw a black marker scribble on the wrapper around the bottle. Upon removing it your heart stopped. Your knees could give up at any moment from the sheer shock. Am I losing my mind? A number was loosely doodled on the white plastic wrapper and underneath it there was a message.

Call me

// Hyunjin

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@vogueinnie @that-anxious-bisexual @putmetogetheragain13 @hyunsluvv @lawleighette @meow-minho @minaamhh @ohmysparkle @hwangi @rindomo @fleeingreality @nycol-ie @jisungsplatforms

247 notes · View notes

thirsting-over-demons · 3 years

Text

The Lingerie Game

{An Obey Me Fic} – F!MC

Synopsis: A game is happening at the House of Lamentation— anyone who sees MC not fully clothed will get the opportunity to spend 12 hours time alone with her wearing lingerie of their choice.

<<CH2

Chapter Three: A Game of Strip Poker

warnings: mildly n.s.f.t, sexual themes, poker

Mammon cashes in on his 12-hour reward. He's decided to teach MC the ins and outs of poker, but with a twist. However, the game can't last forever.

Word Count: 5610

Sitting in wait for MC is a package carefully positioned in front of her bedroom door. A gold ribbon wraps around the box, contrasting with the plain brown paper that covers it. Attached is a note that reads:

My room! Saturday night!

…

Wear this underneath your normal clothes.

“Wow. His handwriting is worse than mine,” MC comments as she reads the note. She also remarks on the lack of signature. It’s a good thing that it’s obvious who sent this. No one else but Mammon could be so confident yet convey such bashfulness through writing.

As soon as she finishes reading, she takes the package into her room, eager to see the lingerie Mammon has picked out. Upon opening, she initially notices the color scheme—black and gold. As if she could expect anything else. She goes on to pull out the first piece, holding it in front of her to get a better look. In her hands is a short, black chemise with a sheer body. An outline of lace separates the see-through fabric from an opaque bikini. What’s more, golden dagger-shaped shards hang off the brassiere while metallic specks can be seen throughout the flowing fabric.

He expects me to be able to wear this underneath my regular clothes? The frown on her face as she thought this is replaced by an affectionate smile as she continues to stare at the chemise. She then sets it aside and lets out a sentimental breath as she does so. Reaching into the box again she pulls out a pair of black boyshorts studded with silver white diamonds on the sides. Attached to the shorts are garter straps with gold-colored clasps at the end. Stockings, however, did not come with the set.

“I wonder if that was on purpose,” she mutters to herself. “Oh well, guess we’ll find out Saturday night.” She stares at the lingerie laid out on her bed, and for a moment, thinks about all the potential activities Mammon has planned.

Whatever it is, I’m looking forward to it.

Saturday has finally arrived and after a long day of making up missed school, Mammon and MC could use some winding down.

“Why did we have to spend a whole day at school for just a couple of lousy hours?!” Mammon complains as the two walk home.

“Because he’s a sadist,” MC replies. There’s no denying that ‘he' refers to Lucifer. She’s truly contemplating whether it was, indeed, worth it after having lost eight hours of her day off to forced independent study. “At least there’s tonight.”

Mammon chuckles shyly and agrees. His confidence picks up speed as he states, “Ya know it’s gonna be fun cause The Great Mammon planned it!” A grin plasters his face while he says this.

In response, she comments on how it sounds like she’ll have to take some time to relax beforehand.

He agrees rather begrudgingly, his disappointment shining through despite having just spent the first half of the day together already.

The two eventually reach home and part ways, having agreed to meet in Mammon’s room after dinner. MC has no idea what the evening plans could be, but knowing him, she’s going to need energy. With this is mind, she decides to nap in the time before dinner, and makes her way up to her room. Once there, she manages to only take her shirt off before flopping onto bed and falling asleep. The cool fabric is refreshing compared to the hot air outside, perfect for afternoon dozing.

A knock on the door disrupts her slumber. With it, a lazy acknowledgement escapes from MC, prompting the knocker to enter the room.

“Dinner's ready, MC,” Satan calls out. In response, all he hears is mumbles coming from the body half-under the covers. Satan sighs as he steps further into the room. “It’s not good to sleep so early in the day.” He immediately goes from lecturing to tempting as he adds, “Besides, I made your favorite.”

This sparks some energy in MC. Satan’s cooking is always delicious and better yet he says it’s one of her favorites. She quickly pushes herself up and the blanket that was covering her falls to the side. Still in bed, she turns to face him and with resolve, tells him she will be right there.

He decisively ignores what she said to instead ask, “Are you not wearing a shirt?”

MC looks down to confirm that she is, in fact, shirtless. Upon realizing what this means, she looks up, stares ahead at the wall in front of her, and says flatly, “No. I am not.” She can’t believe how quick that was.

“A win-win for us both, it seems,” Satan is obviously pleased with what just happened. “I’ll let you get dressed.” He then takes his leave, closing the door behind him.

MC remains sitting in bed, her eyes lingering blankly at the space Satan just left through. That was almost embarrassingly too fast. It’s only been less than a week since the game first started and already two prizes are being rewarded. Let’s just focus on tonight, she thinks as she pushes the encounter out of her mind. But, first, food.

Dinner passes without much incident. To their displeasure, the brothers know Mammon will be getting uninterrupted time with MC tonight. But the punishment from last time is still fresh in their minds, so they tended to steer away from that topic. Only the rogue complaint here and there made it out their mouths. Not that any questions would be answered anyway; MC is unaware of the activities for the night and there’s no way Mammon would tell his brothers what he has prepared.

Upon finishing her meal, MC heads upstairs to get ready for the night. First, a shower is in order. Can’t feel her best without one. She makes sure to use the scents she thinks Mammon would like best. He always seems to try to stand close to me when I use the strawberry-scented stuff.

After washing, she tosses on some throw-away clothes for the walk back to her room. She’s too wet to immediately put on the lingerie and she’s certainly not walking back in a towel. There can’t be two winners in a day.

She's eventually able to wear the lingerie and walks over to the mirror hanging on her door. Moment of truth. She looks over her reflection, quite pleased with how she looks. “Who knew Mammon could pick out something that looks so good?” Her thoughts instantly leave her mouth. “Well, I guess modeling helps.”

Still, there’s the matter of trying to wear it under her everyday clothes. It definitely wasn’t designed to do that. A larger, loose-fitting shirt will work, but the bottoms might be a bit trickier. Jeans definitely won’t work, in fact any type of pants won’t. She’ll have to go with a skirt. The two tops can easily be tucked in with that too, making it slightly more manageable.

The completed ensemble is a bit uncomfortable, but it’ll do. He can’t be planning on never seeing the lingerie. Eventually she can take off the other clothes…right? Well, either way, it’s time to head to Mammon’s room.

She announces her arrival with three sharp knocks. In return, she hears a startled Mammon telling her to come in. When she enters the room, she sees him sitting on the couch, his back to the door. She also notes the trashcan filled to the top with crumpled up paper. Seems like it took him a couple times to find the right words for the note earlier.

“You ready?” she asks.

“I’ve been ready,” he replies a little impatiently while turning to face her. His tone quickly changes, though, as he attempts to hide this anxious eagerness. “Not that I’ve just been sitting here waiting!” He swiftly decides to change the subject to avoid any further hole digging. Instead, he comments on what MC is wearing. On how little it is, in fact.

“What? You told me to wear my everyday clothes,” she says, genuinely confused by his line of reasoning. “The skirt isn’t even short. It’s mid-length.” MC lifts the ends while she states this, as if to prove the point.

This causes Mammon to look away. It takes him a slight moment to regain himself before he says, “I guess it can’t be helped.” He gets up from the couch and walks over to MC. Draping his jacket across her shoulders, he tells her, “Wear this.”

She’s completely baffled at this point. More clothes? A couple seconds are spent in wonder until she slips her arms through. She doesn’t completely mind. As the jacket settles, a scent drifts over her.

It smells like him.

MC hesitates to ask for an explanation, but the curiosity is pressing. “So, what’s the deal with the clothes, anyway?”

“Huh?” Mammon acts as though she knows what they’re going to do. “Well, with what you had on, you’d only have to lose twice.” This does nothing to clear up mystery, and its only when he sees MC's puzzled expression does he realize that. He finally reveals what the two will be doing, “I’m gonna teach ya poker!”

Of course. He has wanted to play countless times before, but MC didn’t know how nor was any interested in learning. But now she has too. On top of that, it seems like it’s going to be strip poker. How apropos.

“I see.” Good thing she took that nap. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have the mental energy to be taught anything else that day. “Alright, let’s get to it.”

Mammon gives a hum of agreement and the two make their way over to the couches where he’s set up the cards. On the table are examples of possible hands in order of ranking. As he goes over them, he makes sure to give MC enough time to properly memorize the categories. When she’s had her fill, he continues to explain the rules and mechanics of the variant his chosen in-depth.

Plainly, players will be dealt two cards, then five will be laid onto the table as community cards. Use the two cards in combination with the ones of the board to make a better hand than the other.

“I’ve decided to go easy on ya!” A huge smile can be seen on Mammon’s face. “This one’s the easiest to learn, so you should have no problem playing.” It’s obvious he’s having so much fun teaching her something he loves.

MC smiles in response. Seeing him so enthusiastic makes him so endearing. He’s quite serious about it too. No way he’s not by how thoroughly he’s explaining the game.

Soon enough the two begin playing, starting with some practice rounds. When MC decides she has the hang of it, she suggests they raise the stakes by finally betting clothes.

“Ya haven’t won yet!” Mammon rejects the idea straightaway. “Ya hafta win first,” he clarifies.

She has to wonder if he’s doing such a slow reveal on purpose. No, of course he is. First the long lesson now all the practicing. Though, she has to admit, it is more fun this way—there’s a buildup, anticipation. And there’s no point in rushing, they do have half a day. So, she's content to carry on without anteing for now.

While there’s a bit of enjoyment in trying to win against Mammon in something he excels in, MC is starting to lose interest. The lack of risk is starting to compromise the point of playing, even if she always either loses or folds. All she has to do is win once, then the real game can begin. Time to really focus.

Up to this point, she’s just been paying attention to her own cards and trying to beat Mammon’s hand. She’s been foregoing any observation of her opponent proper. Right, I’ve got to play the player as much as the game. She starts with some simple watching, noting anything that might help her: expressions, movements, comments, etc. Further scrutinizing is done by deliberately making a couple of bad moves to gauge his reactions. She’s getting nothing from him.

A couple more rounds go by, and MC has concluded that Mammon is unreadable, almost. The only time he reacted, just slightly, was when she nearly won. He seemed almost proud. That’s got to be her angle. She’s not skilled enough to read him, but she can coax him into giving away information. Just have to ask the right questions.

It takes some tries before finding the most effective line of questioning. Problem is, before, she wasn’t asking too many questions. Now, it’s like a flood gate has been lifted.

“Finally getting serious, huh?” If Mammon knew what she was up to, he wasn’t showing it. Additionally, the influx of questions hasn’t thrown him off. Rather, he’s quite excited to show off his talent in front of MC. Maybe a bit too excited. He’s letting down his guard.

Which is perfect for her. She needs this win. In fact, she might have him. The last thing she asked caused a slight stir in Mammon. “So, a pair in hand and a pair on the table is a two pair?”

“Yep! Got it!” Mammon's response showed no sign of hesitation or worry. But there was the tiniest hint of disappointment hidden within his words.

This is what tipped MC off. He thinks he has a better hand. Good thing her cards are better than what she said. And with what’s on the table, there's a good chance his cards will lose to her actual ones.

“Alright let’s show ‘em,” she says as she lays her cards into view.

Mammon almost immediately declared himself winner until she pointed at the three aces on the table, those being the two in her hand and then the community one. In addition to the pair included on the board, that makes her a hand a winner compared to Mammon’s, who only had five cards of the same suite.

“Guess we can start anteing then,” MC proclaims. She’s ready to stop being so damn uncomfortable because of the weird layers she’s wearing. She may not even try the next rounds, not that she’ll let Mammon know that. He would try to make excuses to prevent her from stripping for sure. “Actually, maybe you should explain how you’re thinking of doing that first,” she follows up after realizing he never clarified those particulars.

Mammon goes on to lay out the rules he’s devised. Simply, if both players show their hand, the loser has to remove an item of clothing. There’s no penalty to folding considering the circumstance.

Sure enough, the next round plays and she ends up losing an item of clothing. Can’t say she ended up not trying, though. She just didn’t try as hard. It was fun learning how to play against Mammon, but it’s too much now. There’s no way she can keep up steam.

She opts for the skirt first. It’s been the major cause of her discomfort, surprisingly to her. The band has been causing the two shirts to rub against her skin nonstop. She sticks her thumbs in to separate it from herself and lifts herself off the couch just enough to pull the skirt off, setting it to her side. With that she returns her gaze to Mammon.

This prompts a small fuss from him. Snapping out of a lascivious stare, he spits out, “Why'da go for that first? I gave ya the jacket!”

That’s the other reason. She doesn’t want to take his jacket off. She tells him as such, burying her head in it as she does. It’s soothing in a way.

A small amount of color rises across Mammon’s face from this. He gets up wordlessly and walks over to MC. Taking off his own sunglasses, he puts them on her, slightly brushing her cheeks as his hands slide past.

“There,” he says as he looks at her before walking back around the table. He seems satisfied with that explanation, or rather, lack thereof.

“These will literally be the next thing I take off.”

“They’re suppose'da be.” Mammon goes on to deal the next round. It was tight, coming down to who had the higher cards. Ultimately, he won by a hair.

And the glasses come right off.

The following hand plays much slower. MC takes her time to analyze everything, thinking of endless possible card combinations that’ll earn her a win as the community cards are laid down. She’s decided she can’t be the only one stripping.

It’s down to the last card on the table and she has to choose whether to show or fold. It’s a decent enough hand. She’ll show.

Mammon's the first to flip his cards, revealing a respectable hand, as well.

“Are you sure you haven’t been cheating?” She suddenly asks.

“Huh?” Mammon was taken by surprise with this. A little offended, he answers, “I may bend the rules sometimes. But this isn’t the time and place, MC. Even I know that.”

“You’re right,” she turns her cards over. “Because you would’ve won, then.” She reveals a hand that triumphs over her opponent’s.

“MC!” He exclaims both pleased and a little unsettled. “Ya had me going there. Hah! Look at ya.”

But she is just looking at him, waiting with a smile half-cocked. They showed their cards. She won. He lost.

He eventually understood why she was staring at him with such a look. And he froze. Right, by his rules, he loses an article of clothing now. For some reason, this didn’t even occur to him as a possibility—that they’d both be half-naked.

He's already lost his jacket and glasses. All that’s left are his shirt and pants. He picks the prior. Reaching over behind his head, Mammon takes his shirt and, as quickly as he can, yanks it over his head.

“You can quit lookin' at me like that, now.”

She doesn’t. Not even realizing she’s staring; she continues to admire his physique. Only when Mammon goes out of his way to get her attention does she snap out of her daze.

“Next round!” He says as if he’s uttering a decree.

The cards are dealt once again. MC, however, is getting tired. He sure can play for a long while. Having won the last round, she decides to phone it in for the rest, trying only as hard as it takes Mammon not to notice. It helps that she’s not good to begin with.

The next clothing item she tosses is the shirt beneath Mammon’s jacket, still refusing to take it off. She somehow manages it by balancing the jacket on her shoulders as she slips out of the top worn under it. Sure, she could have just taken off the jacket then put it back on when she was done, but it’s more fun this way. Plus, Mammon can't say anything her breaking the rules, so to speak.

Now, all she’s wearing is Mammon’s jacket and the lingerie he picked out. And she wants to show off this fact. She abruptly stands up, which causes the hanging daggers of the brassier to sway as she does so. Holding her arms out while posing, she asks, “Isn’t it cute?”

Mammon takes a moment before answering, soaking in what he’s seeing.

“You’re beautiful.”

MC felt a tinge of heat reach her cheeks. She wasn’t expecting him to respond like that. But she was glad.

She sits back down and comments on how she loves what he picked out. Then, silently thinks to herself how she hopes to wear it again for him.

Mammon, meanwhile, was marveling at how MC looked. Even going so far as to praise himself for his choice of lingerie.

“By the way,” MC begins. “This does beg the question, what about the stockings?” She leans back and to the side, supporting herself with her hands as she swings her legs alternatively up and down.

“Oh, uh,” he searches for the words, a little distracted by her bare legs. Finally finding them, he says, “It seemed like too much.”

“That’s too bad. It would’ve made the outfit even cuter,” she replies minorly disappointed. Then adds with a chuckle, “Plus it would’ve gave me more things to take off. Oh well, there’s always next time.”

“I can see that now! No need to rub—” He processes the last thing MC said. “Wait, for real?!”

MC confirms what she said, ready to laugh again. Well, that confirms he's all up for seeing her like this again.

“Imma hold you to that!” Mammon ecstatically swears. It’ll be even more fun the next time around, especially since the anxieties of this time won’t overwhelm him.

The night continues and MC can’t hide her exhaustion, yawning more and more frequently. She’s been folding more frequently too. Every round, in fact. The only thing she has left to offer is the jacket she’s been cuddling all night, and she’s not going to let it go.

“One more game,” Mammon says. “Then ya can go to bed.” He stipulates, “But no folding! Both of us gotta show our cards.”

“I’m not going to bed until you are,” she replies. “You have to get your full time.” A yawn tries to escape from her mouth as she says this.

Mammon accepts this but insists on having that last round. While she looks adorable, he does want to see how she looks without the covering piece. Plus, there has to be a proper sendoff of the game—folding just won’t do.

“In that case, we can watch a movie or something,” he suggests as he lays down the cards. He puts down all five table cards without delay. There’s no need to go through the whole process. When he lays the last card, he also flips his own, then looks at MC to do the same.

Although coming down to pure luck at this point, she ends up having to finally forego the jacket she’s come to love. She pouts as she removes it, then quickly makes her way over to the couch Mammon is sitting on the far end of. Settling down at a spot where they're almost touching, she goes on to suggest they watch a horror movie.

He’s reluctant to agree to this but relents as he’s too focused on the sudden close proximity between the two.

“I’ve been wanting to watch this certain one,” MC says as she pulls the film onto the TV. She stays on the summary screen to give Mammon the chance to read it and waits for him to give the go-ahead. Mammon, however, seemed to be focusing all his attention on MC, and she has to direct him to look at the screen. After a moment, a sign of confirmation is given, though hesitantly as if he didn't even process what he just read. She starts the movie anyway.

A little ways in, MC begins to shift and leans heavily onto Mammon, holding nothing back as she puts her full weight on him.

“If ya scared, all you gotta do is say so,” he says in reaction. “The Great Mammon will protect ya!” He looks down at who appears to be his new blanket.

She responds with a tired hum. Though she’s not having Mammon’s feigned bravery, she’s too exhausted to fight it. Instead, she continues to just watch the movie through half-closed eyes, propped against his shoulder.

“Hold on a sec.” He lifts her off for a split moment and repositions, his back now being supported by the arm of the couch. He pulls her into his lap, and she ends up laying between his legs with her head on his chest. “It’s more cozy this way, yeah?”

“Makes the jacket the next-best thing,” she answers.

The two continue to watch the movie in silence. During so, Mammon’s arms have been slowly moving from the couch to around MC, getting closer and tighter every time he got scared. He soon was fully encircling her with his head hiding behind as far as he could manage, which wasn’t much considering his position, even with sliding down. This was when he noticed the smell of strawberries.

“Hey, MC,” he spoke low trying to get her attention. There was no response. “Are ya sleepin'?” Again, he was met with silence. He took this opportunity to lightly bury his head into her, absorbing the scent that he adores on her. It had a calming effect, especially after the stress caused by the horror on screen.

“Did’ya wear this for me?” He asks softly to himself. Though the movie was over, he stayed still. He wanted nothing but to continue holding her like he was. There’s a chance he might just fall asleep too.

But he couldn’t. It’s too uncomfortable for that. The position is fine for cuddling yet sleeping like this will only bring pain the next day. And it can’t be much better for her. Not to mention, they don’t even have any blankets, and the pillows that were already on the couch are hardly meant for such use. He ultimately decides to sacrifice the snuggling, over much internal debating, and wakes MC up.

“Time to get up,” Mammon’s voice was loud as he shook her tenderly. He knew all too well if the first attempt didn’t work, he’d have way too much trouble with trying again. “It’s better to sleep inna bed. C'mon.”

MC grumbles at this as she sits up. Without a word, she makes her way over to the bed in his room.

“What're ya doing?” He asks a bit flustered, fully not expecting her actions.

“You said to go to bed,” she replies rather pragmatically. Then adds, “And there’s still time left in your twelve hours.” As she says this, she lifts the covers and climbs into bed. “Unless… you want me to walk all the way back to my own room?” It’s clear she has no plans to do this anyway, as she’s already quite settled in his bed.

Mammon makes no arguments, only an off-hand comment that can be taken as him denying all responsibility in having the idea. Instead, he gets into bed next to her, facing her way.

As soon as she feels his weight, she rolls over to meet him. She asks, “Can I hold you?”

He answers by holding her first. Showing no restraint, he presses his body into hers, his arms fully wrapped around her. He lets out a heavy sigh as he does so.

MC stiffens in surprise by this, but very quickly relaxes into him. Lifting her head off the shoulder she was resting on, she gives him a peck on the cheek as she tells him, “Good Night.”

Stunned by this, Mammon stares at MC, who has taken her position back onto his shoulder. Shifting his gaze to the side, a short moment passes before he says, “If ya gonna kiss me, ya gotta do it right.”

To this, she looks up again and brings her face to his, stopping just before his lips. And she waits, hesitating in front of him as she pauses for consent, her own lips somewhat parted ways in anticipation. She looks from his eyes to his lips then back again, as her way of asking.

Mammon gives his permission by impatiently pressing his lips to hers. His hand supports her head as his avarice takes over, roughly deepening the kiss more and more. To him, no matter how near their bodies, it will never be enough. There will always be some distance to close.

In return, he gets kisses that are sleepy but not effortless. Noting this, and realizing that he’s getting too excited, he pulls away. When he does, he meets MC with eyes brimmed with compassion. But only for a second as he quickly buries her head into his chest, hiding her from the complete redness that is consuming his face. He ends the night by telling her, “Go back to sleep,” as he feels her warm breath against his skin.

As for her, she falls asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, loud and fast.

Although falling asleep later, Mammon was the first one to wake up. He wants every second awake he can get holding the woman he’s come to adore. In fact, even though they repositioned during their slumber, he’s still cradling her. As he lies on his back staring at the ceiling, MC sleeps soundly on his chest. He starts to caress her head, feeling the hair that would tickle him occasionally throughout the night on his fingertips, wishing this won’t end.

Unfortunately, this wakes her up after a while and she moves off his chest, much to his disappointment. So much so, that he pulls her back without delay, saying that he’s not done holding her yet. The Avatar of Greed, indeed.

“Mammon, I have to get up.”

But he doesn’t let go. Rather, he tightens his embrace.

“Mammon…” she sinks into him, not wanting to get up either. But she has to go grocery shopping for dinner. It’s her turn. A fact she relays to him, yet he still won’t budge.

“How ‘bout a good morning kiss?” This got his attention. “But I can’t do it from here.”

He relents to this. Eager for another kiss. His grip loosens, allowing MC to position herself in front of him. He props her chin up and runs his thumb over her bottom lip before he goes in. It’s softer this time, slower with deliberate motions. He wants the feel of her lips committed to memory.

Her kisses in answer are the same. In contrast to the tired grazes of yesterday, her touch now is very much alive.

Mammon stops first, distancing himself just enough to where their lips barely touch. Tentatively, he asks, “This… this makes up for last night, yeah?” His lips brush against hers with each word.

MC doesn't want to talk, but they're too close to just silently ask. She opts for a quick, “What do you mean?”

“I wanted our first kiss to-” he stops midsentence, a little bashful by the words. He rephrases, “I wanted to be gentler. But I couldn’t hold myself back once I felt your lips.”

“I didn’t mind at all,” she reassures as she smoothly rubs her nose on his. Afterwards, she furthers the distance for a better look at him as she says, “In fact, I like it when you’re assertive.”

“Don’t say such weird stuff all of a sudden!” An embarrassed expression appears on his face. “Geeze, it’s kinda scary when you act so sweet.” He thinks for a moment until he decides to tell her, “But, you could do more of that…you know, if ya wanted.”

MC feels as though she needs to put his mind to ease. “I like you, Mammon.” She’s sure to enunciate this, clearly saying his name so there’s no doubt about who she’s talking about.

He’s at a loss for words at this point, stunned. A smile soon creeps on his face and the words he finally comes up are filled with self-praise. “Of course ya do!” Secretly though, he’s relieved by what she said. The affirmation of her feelings fills him with confidence.

The conversation continues with MC reiterating that she, unfortunately, needs to go out for groceries. She furthers the argument by reminding him that his twelve hours are up.

A demand for one more kiss is his response, which she gladly indulges. He steadies her with his hands once more, as if it’s a need to feel her body while they kiss. It’s more fervent this time around after hearing her confession; his emotions seemingly exploding into her lips.

The first to pull away this time was MC, sensing that Mammon would never stop. She can’t leave if the kiss never ends, right? Looking at him, she can see he’s visibly disappointed with his eyes still closed.

When he opens them, it’s only slightly and he’s sure to not meet her eyes. If he sees her, it’ll only cause him to try to make her stay again. Instead, he rushes her along. “Just hurry up so you can get back, will ya?”

MC slips back on the clothes from the night before. Stopping short of the door, she turns to face him once more and pauses, pondering on whether she should express the idea on her mind. Ultimately, she chooses to tease him with the one other reason she had prepared to use against him.

“You know,” she gets his attention. “I was gonna entice you with some of my homemade ramen.” The jestful smile on her face cannot be hidden, no matter the amount of lip biting. “But looks like I don’t have to now.”

The speed at which Mammon disregards his previous determination to not look at MC is unimaginable. In fact, he completely abandons the notion to let her go. He hops out of bed almost as swiftly as his stare and bounds for the troublemaker. Reaching her before she can get away, he wraps his arms around her and brings her into a tight embrace of no escape. He’s back to preventing her from leaving. Not until she promises to make his ramen.

In between fits of giggles, MC manages to spill that she planned on doing that anyway. When she gets let go, she gives Mammon one last playful look before she sets off to buy the ingredients of his favorite dish of hers.

#obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me #obey me shall we date #mammon x mc #the lingerie game

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lesetoilesfous · 3 years

Note

6. Fumbling, tickly, giggly sex - Zevran/Alistair?

This was so much FUN. I sometimes find these guys hard to write but this was such a perfect prompt for them and I loved it. Thank you Carta!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Zevistair

Characters: Zevran Arainai, Alistair Theirin, brief guest appearance from Morrigan

Tags: smut, anal sex, hand jobs, oral sex, fluff and smut, oblique reference to past trauma

Rating: Explicit

“Wait, wait,” Alistair’s words dissolve into giggles and Zevran sits back on his hips, perplexed as he waits for the broad, muscular man beneath him to catch his breath, red faced and flushed all the way to the tips of his very faintly pointed ears. At last Alistair gets his breath back, the red of his blush almost drowning out his freckles. “Not - not there.”

Zevran raises an eyebrow. He’s a trained hunter, and he knows how to spot prey when it’s offered to him with such delicious naivety. He leans forward, letting his hair slip forward over his bare shoulder and the thick broad strokes of tattoo there in a way that catches Alistair’s attention and holds it for long enough for Zevran to slip a hand between Alistair’s legs, curling his fingertips against the sensitive skin behind his knee.

Alistair yelps and jerks, and Zevran has sensationally fast reflexes to thank for avoiding a knee to the groin. It doesn’t matter, he tumbles back onto the mattress, laughing hard enough to make his belly hurt, Alistair’s indignant shriek ringing in his ears as his eyes warm with lazy, laughing tears.

The mattress dip and shifts as Alistair sits up, turning to climb slowly and stiffly over Zevran, his tall, muscular, mostly human body easily dwarving Zevran’s elvhen form - though Zevran .likes to think there is not so much between them, as far as muscularity goes.

“My eyes are up here.” Alistair’s voice is rueful, teasing, and only a little embarassed.

With effort, Zevran tears his eyes from the russet brown hair grazing Alistair’s generous chest. He appeases himself with lifting a hand to appreciatively squeeze his lover’s impressive pectoral muscles. “But mi amor, your body is art,” Alistair blushes, pinkly, in a way that prettily highlights his freckles, and Zevran gives him a crooked grin as he rolls a thumb over his nipple. “It would be a sin not to appreciate it.”

“Yes - ah,” Alistair catches himself, flushing red, falling forward a little on the bed, and Zevran feels his breath catch in his chest. It was always a breathtaking thing, to bring down a man so mighty. Not that Zevran wants to bring down Alistair so much as he wants to fall with him (however dangerous the thought.)

Outside their tent, there’s the heavy sound of Dog’s snores, and the distant hoot of an owl. The fabric walls around them rustle in the breeze, and Alistair clears his throat, bare skin pimpling with the sudden cold. “Hang on, I was getting revenge.”

Zevran tries to maintain his smile, though it’s harder to do so dishonestly these days with Alistair. “Ah, I am afraid that will not work on me. I cannot be tickled,” Or many other things besides, but Zevran has no interest in listing them here, now. Alistair, for his part, is not deterred - and if he picks up the shadow in Zevran’s expression he doesn’t comment on it.

Instead, he raises his eyebrows and says, boldly, “Challenge accepted.”

Then he dips his head towards Zevran’s waist: a direction for the evening Zevran is all too happy to embrace, until Alistair’s lips land on his stomach and he blows a wet, farting raspberry against Zevran’s bare skin. Zevran swears and wriggles away from him, and Alistair cackles, rolling away, blankets tangled between his thick thighs.

Zevran chases him. “This, my friend, is war.” He moves for Alistair’s knees, but Alistair catches him, and for a minute or more they wrestle, laughing and naked and warm, until at last Zevran’s superior dexterity wins him the battle, and he ducks behind Alistair and tickles him until he’s breathless and beating the thin fabric of their joined bedrolls for mercy.

Red faced and breathless, chest and cheeks aching with laughter, Zevran relents, and Alistair rolls over, face tear-streaked and red, eyes crinkled at the corners as he pulls Zevran down into a warm, fierce hug, holding him close and covering his cheek and hair with kisses. Zevran submits to it momentarily, before wriggling a little in Alistair’s warm arms to look up at him, blowing a strand of hair away from his nose as he does so. “Not that I’m complaining, mi amor, but shouldn’t you be angry? I was doing the torturing, no?”

Alistiar sighs, happily and presses a kiss to Zevran’s lips, nuzzling against him. “It’s just nice when you laugh.” He says, honestly, giddily, as unguarded as a teenager. Something in Zevran’s chest aches, at that. Then he catches Alistair’s face and kisses him, deeply, fiercely, catching his lip gently between his teeth and biting just hard enough that he moans for it, raking his nails through Alistair’s thick hair and down the back of his neck, over his back.

Alistair’s moan deepens into something rougher, and he pushes back, strong and forceful with his feeling as they tumble again and Zevran falls toward the bedroll, caught easily by Alistair (cradled), as Alistair dips between his legs, hands fumbling with the jar of oil half forgotten by their packs. Part of Zevran wants to stop him, pull him up, tell him that he’s better at this part. Most of Zevran loves Alistair for trying, anyway.

So he lets Alistair lick clumsily at his cock, and he feels himself getting hard anyway, and he tells himself it isn’t because of the way Alistair glances up at him, shy and sweet for all his muscle and all his scars.

Thick, blunt, warm figures slick with oil brush between Zevran’s ass cheeks, and Zevran lies back, tugging a pillow beneath his back as he tilts his hips up. Alistair mumbles a thank you and presses a kiss to the head of Zevran’s cock, glancing up at him anxiously before gently pressing one finger inside him. Soothingly, Zevran pets his hair, and encouraged, Alistair licks a long stripe up Zevran’s dick. Zevran tries to ignore the voices of the sex workers he grew up with, laughing at him for giving in to such amateur attentions. It’s easy when Alistair presses a tender, gentle kiss to the side of his knee, gently slipping another finger inside him whilst he mouths at Zevran’s cock.

Zevran leans back on the thin pillows and stares up at the silver glow of the witchlight lamp hanging from the roof of their tent. His fingers curl into the blankets as he resists his own impatience, but when Alistair moves to add a third finger Zevran sits up, catching his wrist gently. “That’s enough, mi amor. I’m ready.”

Alistair frowns a little, sweet as a puppy, and Zevran tries to ignore the part of himself that melts at that and presses a kiss to his lips anyway. When he pulls back, Alistair mumbles against his mouth, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

There are a thousand things Zevran could say to that and none of them are in good taste. So instead he leans back, tugging Alistair over him as he parts his legs and hooks his knees over his shoulders in a familiar stretch, rolling his hips so that his ass brushes Alistair’s thick, warm cock, already damp with precum. Zevran meets Alistair’s eyes. “I’m ready.”

Alistair swallows, and nods, and picks up the vial - dropping it between his slippery fingers and swearing, “Andraste’s tits.” Zevran laughs as Alistair fumbles for the vial in the blankets, spilling a mess on the linen that Zevran has no interest in explaining to Wynne before covering his cock with so much lube it looks as if it’s been dipped in honey.

Zevran does not try to hide the fact he’s staring and Alistair reddens again. Zevran responds to this by rolling his hips, ankles hooked together behind Alistair’s neck. Alistair laughs, softly, “Alright, alright.” His voice is rough and low as he guides his cock to Zevran’s asshole, slipping once and smearing oil over Zevran’s skin before he manages to push himself inside. Both of them exhale as slowly, painstakingly, Alistair pushes inside of Zevran.

Zevran hums, clenching around Alistair’s cock in a way that makes him moan as he rolls his hips forward easily, lazily. “Fuck me, amor.” Alistair’s breath catches, and he leans forward, strong arms framing Zevran’s head as he looks down at him, muscles in his abdomen tensing.

“Your wish is my command.”

Moving one hand to help hold Zevran’s hips, Alistair pulls out a little, fucking back into him with a groan. Alistair is inexpert, still relatively unpracticed in this, but Zevran isn’t, and Alistair makes up for his lack of any technique with disarming enthusiasm. At some point, one of his hands ends up wound with Zevran’s beside his head, and the other, slick with oil, pulls at Zevran’s cock as he fucks him, hard and a little uneven, huffing with the effort.

Eventually, Zevran notices the way Alistair’s breath is stuttering and squeezes his hand, lifting his hips. “Faster, amor. Harder.”

The warden had once compared Alistair to a battering ram. Zevran thinks the comparison is not inaccurate: Alistair has no finesse but his strength is breathtaking, and Zevran’s body is shoved up the blankets with the force of his thrusts - a matter which makes Alistair falter until Zevran laughs, touching his cheek. “That’s good, Alistair. Fuck me, I’m not going to break.”

Alistair’s eyes get a little dark at that, and his hand in Zevran’s tightens, the one that had been pulling his cock releasing it briefly to hold Zevran’s hips down as he fucks him, hard and rushed as a teenager. Zevran has had more than his share of his lovers, and these inexpert attentions should not charm him as much as they do - but there’s something about the way Alistair keeps looking at him, half to check on him, half because he seems unable to stop staring - something about the way Alistair’s hands clutch his hips and his fingers and don’t bruise - something about the way his great chest drips with sweat, skin golden in the lantern light as he pants, fucking Zevran into the blankets...Alistair comes with a soft moan, buckling, and Zevran follows him helplessly, coming untouched between their bodies as Alistair spends himself inside him.

Warm and wet and filthy, both of them collapse into one another, Alistair pulling Zevran easily into his arms. For a long moment they just pant, sated and exhausted, warm in each other’s embrace.

Then Alistair groans, and lifts his head a little to look down at their filthy blankets. “Oh Maker, I don’t want to explain this to Wynne in the morning.”

Zevran snorts, and the snort breaks into a giggle, and then he’s laughing hard enough to make his belly ache. Alistair stares at him, delighted and a little chagrined, right up until something scorching and electric singes their tent, and Morrigan’s voice shouts across their camp.

“I can live with the sex, but would you two please stop laughing? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

For a moment both of them stare at one another, and the singed fork of lightning in their tent flap. Then Zevran starts giggling again, despite himself, and Alistair’s lips curl into a smile, and then both of them are laughing, loudly, helplessly - and then their tent is on fire.

Neither Alistair nor Zevran regrets it in the morning.

#dadwc #zevistair #my fic #cartadwarfwithaheartofgold #dao #zevran arainai #alistair theirin

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ofhoneyandrosepetals · 3 years

Text

Summer Roads - Chapter 5

Pairing: Sean x Fem! reader

Description: You’ve always been Lyla’s best friend, but since Sean moved you became an inseparable trio. But who could say that, after all these years together, you would start growing feelings for Sean?

Warning: swearings only.

Word count: 2,207

A/N: it just came to me that I never put Chapter 4 in my masterlist, but that error is already corrected! Have fun <3

You woke up with the sunlight on your face, making your eyelids tremble. The first thing you noticed was that Sean’s sleeping bag was empty. Lyla was still asleep. Once you get up you head for the kitchen, where the smell of toasts and coffee filled the air. Lyla’s mom had a cup of steaming coffee on her hands as she talked with Sean, who devoured the toasts.

“Wasn’t the night chilly?” Lyla’s mom asked.

“It was alright, the sleeping bags are warm,” Sean answered, a toast midway to his mouth when he saw you. “Ah, you up.”

“Good morning, Y/N,” Yu-jin said. “Make yourself at home, of course,” she gestured for the kitchen, meaning that you could serve yourself as you pleased.

“I sure did that,” Sean mumbled, mouth full of toast.

“Don’t do that, Sean,” you whispered at him, meaning his lack of manners in front of Lyla’s mom.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone. If you need anything, I’ll be upstairs.”

“Okay, thanks,” you and Sean said at the same time.

“Plans for today?” The boy asked you. You shrugged.

“I don’t know, I guess Lyla actually made a list of things she wanted us to do, but I don’t know what’s there and I’m a bit afraid to ask.”

“She’ll probably keep us busy the whole summer.”

You took notice of Sean’s hands as he cleaned the crumbles of toast from the counter. His index finger was still coloured from the spray paint. You looked at your own, still pink.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, one shower and it’s clean,” you heard Sean saying about the spray paint.

“I’m not worried about that.”

“What is it, then? That troubles you? I know there’s something, you’ve been acting all weird yesterday, zoning out and whatever.”

You could never, not in a thousand years, tell Sean what really troubled you, so you decided to lie, which wasn’t much of an easy decision - you hated lying. But in that situation it was perfectly acceptable.

“It’s just my brother,” you said with a wave of your hand, as if dismissing the subject. “I don’t think he’s coming this summer and, well, that kinda sucks.”

“Oh,” Sean raised his eyebrows. “That’s awful, yeah. Why do you think he’s not coming? He didn’t say anything yet?”

“Yep.”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” Sean got up from the stool he was sitting on. “I’m sure he will come,” and Sean hugged you.

It wasn’t supposed to be or to feel weird, since you always hugged Sean, but now it was a delicate situation, since you weren't looking at him with the same eyes. You tried to think as fast as you could to relax your body and hug him back, passing your arms around him. The texture of the fabric of his shirt felt soft under your fingertips. You hugged him tight.

“Thanks,” it was all you could manage.

“Hey, hey - don’t get all sentimental,” Sean tapped your shoulders, a little smile on his face. “You know I’m always willing to trade Daniel.”

That comment made you laugh out loud. “I’d love to keep Daniel just for me for a couple days. We would play so much you’d be jealous!”

“You don’t need to play with Daniel to get me jealous.”

The volume of his voice was so low that at first you doubted he even said anything. Sean was going out through the back door, so you couldn’t ask him if he’d say anything, and those words stuck to your brain like glue.

In the end, Lyla’s mom needed her to help clean the house, so the second day of summer vacation wasn’t going to be spent by the three of you together. Sean asked if you wanted to go over his house and kill some time, but you were so scared of spending time alone with him that you declined.

“Dude, you can’t be sad over something you don’t even know it’s gonna happen,” he said, sounding worried.

“I know, I know, but I need to clean my room, you saw how the situation is.”

“Your room is not even slightly different from what it usually is.”

“Ouch,” you mimicked a stake going through your heart.

“Silly,” Sean said as he shook his head. “Well, if you feel like doing something, anything, don’t hesitate to hit me up.”

“You got it, boss,” you saluted him and jogged to your house without looking back.

What you didn’t know was that Sean was the one who actually looked back.

Of course you didn’t clean your room - not because you didn’t think it wasn’t necessary, because it clearly was, but simply because you were the type of person who never cleared their rooms. Simple as that. Instead, you spent the rest of the morning and the afternoon eating chips, watching TV and occasionally flipping a comic - doing whatever that came to you was the very key of keeping Sean out of your mind.

Your mom was at work, so when the bell rang it was up to you to go and open the door - checking before who it was, of course.

Your heart beat increased what it felt like a thousand percent.

Sean was at your front door.

Keep it cool, keep it cool, you kept repeating to yourself in thoughts as you opened the door to see the whole Diaz family.

“Hi, Y/N!” Greeted an excited Daniel, a Power Bear doll on his left hand as he waved his right one.

“Hello, Diaz. What can I do for you?” You propped one shoulder against the doorframe, trying to look cool and relaxed, and not someone who would probably pop and fly high into the sky.

“Your mom called my dad to say that she’s going to be back home late, so you’re supposed to have dinner with us.”

“And I asked dad if we could get some pizza, since it’s summer vacation!” Daniel was excited as far as a 7 year old could get - meaning: at full speed.

“Why didn’t she tell me that?” You asked. “I knew nothing about it.”

Sean only shrugged.

“Go put on some shoes, Y/N.”

“Is it dinner time already?” You looked behind you, at the clock hanging in the kitchen wall.

“Y/N, shooooooooes,” Sean begged. “I’m starving.”

“Okay, okay, gimme a sec,” you raised your palms and, leaving the front door open so the Diaz family could come in, you went for your room to quickly change your clothes and put on some shoes.

Once you stepped outside your bedroom, Daniel went directly towards you, pretending that his toy was flying, circling around you.

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!”

“Isn’t Lyla coming?” You asked Sean.

“I called her, but she said she would stay home tonight.”

“Stay home tonight?” That sentence was odd, coming from Lyla. “Is she alright?”

“She seemed fine - I guess she’s just tired from all the cleaning up. A thing you ended up not doing, right?” Sean flicked a look at your room, your door cracked open. You shrugged, embarrassed. “Please tell me you didn’t get your ass all sad the whole day.”

“I didn’t!” You assured him. “I just watched TV and read some comics.”

“Y/N,” Sean said as you locked the front door - Esteban and Daniel were already in the car, waiting for you. “You don’t need to lie to me, you do know that, right? I’d never judge you.”

“I didn’t lie to you,” you quickly grabbed the key back and tossed it in your jeans pocket. Sean narrowed his eyes.

“Well, my message was received. I hope you listen to it.”

“I did. I will,” you shook your head, confused. “Whatever, Diaz. Let’s go.”

Sean smiled and went to open the car door for you. Your heart skipped a bit and you had to take a deep, silent breath to recover yourself.

Daniel seemed to command the whole show - he chose the table, he demanded to sit beside you and he also had a pick on one of the pizza toppings. Sean heavily sighed most of the time, especially when Daniel basically screamed that he’d be the one to sit by your side. Sean sat across you and you tried to look as what you thought you always did.

You wanted to be and act normal around him after the new discovery of your feelings, but it was hard to do so - you always had the idea that Sean might pick up on the hints, that he would discover somehow and, consequently, step back and not be your friend anymore.

You two agreed on pepperoni topping.

“Aww, pepperoni is awful,” Daniel complained.

“What are you whining about? You chose your own topping, Daniel,” Sean said.

“I know, but I want Y/N to eat my pizza too.”

“I’ll eat whatever’s on the table, Dani,” you told him.

“Just don’t eat the napkins,” Esteban said.

“They’re paper napkins, I think they’re edible enough,” you said.

“Ewww,” the Diaz brothers expressed at the same time, making you and Esteban laugh at them.

Dinner with the Diaz was always a fun thing - you loved to see Daniel picking at Sean and the boy getting angry, but not really angry -, so tonight was no exception. Daniel snorted soda through his nose, making you and Sean laugh like two idiots while Esteban tried to pose as a “father who had control over his children,” even though he was holding his own laugh. It was easy to forget that Sean had changed over your eyes, and as soon as that thought occurred to you, the feelings all came back in a flow.

Esteban dropped you at your house, Daniel waving and screaming bye to you until you stepped inside the living room. Your mom was in the kitchen snacking on something. “Hey,” she said. “Had fun tonight?”

“Yeah,” you said giggling, remembering some of the hilarious things that could happen in a pizza restaurant.

“You seem different, sweetie.”

You stood still.

“Different how?”

“I don’t know, just… different. I guess tonight was fun for you. Oh, I almost forgot.”

But different how?, you thought. Am I looking too tortured or what?

“Your brother called - he’s coming next week.”

Those news enlightened you in a whole new way that you didn’t think was possible. Your brother here meant that you could take your mind off of what’s troubling you, besides the fact that you could always count on your brother for advice - especially the kind you needed.

“That’s awesome!” You shouted and your mom smiled. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for that call. I gotta tell the others! Lyla needs to update her to-do list.”

You ran to your room, opening your laptop and checking if both your best friends were online. They happened to be. You immediately called them.

“Wadduuuup,” Lyla said as soon as all of you were on the call.

“Is it an emergency? I just dropped Y/N at her house,” Sean said and you could hear Daniel’s loud voice in the background.

“I think Daniel had too much soda,” you said.

“Daniel’s excited about something at his friend’s house this weekend - I don’t intend to find out what it is.”

“Well, I happen to have great news,” you said, placing your hand on your chest.

“How great are we talking about?” Lyla asked.

“The kind of great that will require an update to your to-do list,” you answered.

“Oh, that only means one thing,” Sean said.

“Your brother’s coming!” Lyla jumped on her chair. “That’s so awesome!”

If you loved your brother that much, just imagine your friends - he felt like an older brother to all of them as well.

“Okay, I’ll see where I can include mr. Peter and think of new things we can do.”

“Now that Y/N just told us the news, are you two down for some gaming?” Sean suggested.

“Sorry, Seanie, I’m tired of all the cleaning, I don’t think I can function well enough to play through the night.”

“Yeah, me neither,” you said.

“What did you do the whole day to feel tired?” Sean asked, suspicious.

“I just wanna go to bed early, that’s all,” you shrugged off.

“Sometimes it sucks being the only guy in this group.”

“This has nothing to do with you being a boy,” you stated.

“He knows that, he just likes to be a drama queen,” Lyla said. “Well, I’m off. Kisses and hugs,” and Lyla went offline.

“I’m going too,” you said.

“Yeah, I know,” Sean rolled his eyes.

“Just play with Daniel,” you teased him.

“Oh, no way. He’s too on, I don’t wanna increase the situation.”

“Good luck with the goofball. Good night, Sean.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You finally went to bed, staring at your ceiling, a swirl of thoughts running through your mind. Sean’s phrase at the Park’s kitchen earlier that day came back to you, making your heart go wild. “You don’t need to play with Daniel to get me jealous.”

It’s nothing, it’s nothing, it means anything, it’s nothing, you repeat it like a mantra until you fall asleep, having a dreamless sleep.

A/N: please let me know if you wanna be tagged in the future chapters so you’ll always know when the fic is updated!

#sean diaz #sean diaz x reader #sean diaz fic #life is strange 2 #life is strange 2 fic #lis 2 #lis 2 fic

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yandere-sins · 4 years

Note

Hi!! 💖 I’m back with another request, if you’re still taking them 😗 how about 40 from the supernatural prompts with yandere Asmo? Maybe he and his darling have been friends with benefits for while, but Asmo wants something more from them now? 👀

Thanks for coming back ♥ Hope you enjoy this!!

Rated Lime for explicit topics and language

“It’s just a simple love potion! Don’t worry, in just a few hours things will be perfect.”

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

Barely, you stifled the yawn that dared to come over you as you reached over to the nightstand, pulling out some tissues from the tissue box. With them, you dried off your neck, happy to get the sweat off your skin. Had you always been this indifferent and bored after conquering the sheets with Asmo? You did encounter those feelings before once your session ended, but you had never been so utterly aware of it.

“Asmo...” you called out softly, your throat felt quite dry after the height you just experienced, having made you scream enough for the next few days. Immediately, his head snapped upwards, attention shifting from his phone to you with a smile falling over his lips. He quickly took the few steps from the bath to the bed, hopping on despite the pillows and blankets being in such disarray compared to his already clean and cared for body.

“What is it~?” he grinned, looking at you like a teenage girl crushing on a star.

“I...” You stopped yourself, wondering if what you were about to do was the right thing. Something you might have forgotten in the casual, fun, and intimate time with him, Asmodeus was still the Demon of Lust. It would be no wonder if rejection wasn’t one of his strong points. But at the same time, after being with him for a long time now, you felt like maybe... he’d understand your situation. You couldn’t help a sigh, and though he’d despise the wrinkles on his forehead, he looked at you concerned, as if he expected something had happened.

“I’ve just been thinking, maybe we should... end this.” With your pointer, you waved back and forth between you two. “The sex is great, absolutly wonderful, but every time we are done, I don’t feel the same satisfaction anymore than in the beginning.”

As expected, his jaw dropped in disbelieve of what he was hearing, eyes widening. You could almost pinpoint the moment the realization hit him as he worked your words through his head, and it made you bite your lip in fearful anticipation.

But all that came from him was a chuckle, a shake of his head as he rolled over and off his bed. “You’re breaking up with me?” he asked, in bewilderment, and you vaguely shrugged your shoulders. “I mean... It’s not like we were in a relationship,” you clarified, just wanting to make sure you both were on the same page.

“Well, of course not,” he huffed. “But I just want to make sure you know what you are doing. You are breaking up--” he paused, letting go of the towel around his hips, giving you an excellent sight of what you were currently trying to leave behind you. “--with this!?”

Ah, geez, you thought, grabbing for one of the pillows to throw it at him. Even a display of his junk wouldn’t change your mind about how you were feeling, almost relieved you would leave behind such a childish display of hurt pride. “Yes,” you clearly said, getting up right when he caught the pillow, displeased by you merely looking away and ignoring the fabulous things in front of you.

“I’m breaking up with the dissatisfaction and rumors I keep hearing about us. How you go around, telling everyone proudly how you owe me and what a good fucktoy I am.” Your explanation was bitter as you slipped back on your undergarments and pants. “I ignored it for a long time, thinking it was just people talking. But honestly, the things you call me while we are going at it, Asmodeus... They almost make me believe those rumors.”

Reaching for your shirt, you were surprised to find Asmodeus on your side of the bed, just a second faster in grabbing it. “You can’t leave.” His words were clear, but without any undertone in his voice. Raising a brow at him, you just chuckled it off, going for the shirt. It was a short tug of war that you won easily as he simply gave in. “Just think of all the things left to do...” he mumbled as he watched you get dressed.

“We can go steady if you want that?”

“What?” you immediately quaked as you pushed your head through the hole in your shirt. “I don’t want to get into a relationship with you--”

“Just think about it,” he interrupted you, circling until he stood right in front of you. You weren’t prepared for his sudden advances, automatically taking a step back as he moved forward, your body simply reacting. Unfortunately, the bed cut off your way, bringing you into a stumble until you fell back down onto the mattress.

Before there was even a chance to get up again, he straddled you, pushing you down by the shoulders with him on top, hovering over you. “There’s no one I’d want more to be my official partner. You are second to none but me, Baby.”

“How many people have you told that,” you asked, almost bored by his confession.

“NO ONE!” he snapped, surprisingly offended by that comment. “You are the only one I ever wanted in my life like this!”

“Asmo...”

“I can be faithful! I can... try at least. And you don’t need anyone else but me--”

You had enough of his blabbering, spouting rubbish left and right as you grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. Asmo melted into the gesture, arms lowering himself on top of you to make it more comfortable while his tongue conquered every open inch of your mouth. He certainly was a good kisser, but not the lover you needed in your life after all. While he was full of passion, you felt yourself sighing into the kiss. At least, it made him shut up.

As if Asmodeus could ever dedicate himself to anymore. Let alone a mortal human.

When you had enough, you were the one to push him away, his lovesick, glazed over eyes shining as if he was about to cry from your rejection of his affection. But keeping him away by your full arm length, all he could do was mildly struggle against you unable to reach back down. “No,” you firmly announced, feeling like whatever you two had was completely over by your lack of feelings for him.

“But... But I love you?” he mumbled softly, though it sounded like a question rather than a statement.

“No matter what you feel, I don’t feel the same.”

For a moment, he got very quiet. From his expression, you almost read the five stages of grief until he suddenly seemed to sober up, letting out a long sigh. “Ooookay,” he finally agreed, and you wondered what the whole show he put on just seconds ago was about when he was able to put away the rejection easily after all.

Without your help, he climbed off you again, only now getting his towel back in place properly and walking over to the minifridge he kept in his room. “Will you have a last after-sex drink with me at least?” he asked so casually, it was hard to believe how upset he was just now. The tension in your body slowly left you as you breathed out, and considering his offer, you decided there was no harm. You two weren’t exactly on bad terms, and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Agreeing, he brought you a very pink bottle, the label unreadable for you, but he had one for himself in his hand too. I should really polish my demonic language knowledge, you thought to yourself as you clinked your bottle with his, taking a swig. There was sweet, and there was absurdly saccharine, but the last thing you wanted to be now after the whole ordeal was unthankful and complain about the taste.

It didn’t have a distinctive taste like bubblegum or strawberry, but that was probably because the amounts of sugar in it completely overshadowed the original flavor. “I-Interesting,” you mumbled, already feeling it bubble in your stomach, knowing that meant you’d have a bellyache for the rest of the day. Demon food just wasn’t made for humans in any way.

Swallowing hard on the sweet stuff, you clinked your bottle with his again as he held it up to you, bringing it to his lips as you did the same. You were glad it was so small, barely a third of a water bottle, because more of it surely wouldn’t have gone down your throat. But while his grin grew more and more mysterious as he watched you down the last gulp, his bottle stayed filled with the sirup.

“Oh,” you noted as you looked at his bottle. The sugar was really catching up to you, your heart beating rapidly, making your vision go blurry. “You’re not thirsty?”

“Not for this,” he answered, putting the lid back on his drink while the bottle threatened to fall out of your hand soon as you couldn’t keep your grip on it. “Wha- What is it exactly?” you asked as you tried to keep your composure while the world around you began to turn in quick movements.

“It’s just a simple love potion! Don’t worry, in just a few hours things will be perfect.”

You heard him say these words, and you remembered thinking to yourself what a bad joke that was. But after the crash of a glass bottle hitting the floor, you couldn’t hear anything anymore, losing control of your body and blacking out before you had a chance to do something against your condition.

And Asmodeus? Asmodeus was beyond ecstatic. He knew first hand just how bad those potions tasted, but you had always been too kind to refuse him. He wouldn’t have let you start now with refusing the relationship you two had. Those rumors had only been words he said as a matter of fact, after all, you did belong to him.

He could call you his little fucktoy whenever he wanted.

But he forgave you for the audacity of trying to leave. If he had to remind you of your place by his side, he’d be glad to start at the bottom again - he was a demon, he had time.

Pushing away your legs, he pulled out his fun box, searching for the sturdiest rope he owned. It was simply perfect for securing you, just in case the love potion wouldn’t work as well as it worked on other demons he tried it on before. Tensing it between his hand, Asmodeus decided that he just couldn’t risk you thinking about leaving again, even if that meant permanently restricting you from the possibility.

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lettheladylead · 3 years

Text

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 6: Dewey [ao3 link]

It’d been quite the week.

Goldie wasn’t sure where she stood amongst everything, but apparently Scrooge was actually the biological father (or at least the unknowing DNA donor) of Beakley’s granddaughter - the same one she’d convinced Scrooge to abandon in a forest in the middle of Florida just a few months earlier.

Not a great start to a relationship she never planned on having. As much as she liked Sharpie, she had no intention of getting to know all the kids in Scrooge’s life. It was starting to feel like a collection.

All the same, though, Goldie still found herself in Duckburg after the smoke had cleared. She didn’t want to interrupt Scrooge’s little family time, but she also felt like they should have a talk of some sort. Their adventure in Florida meant a lot to her and after being kidnapped and mildly tortured for what felt like weeks, she kind of just wanted to spend some quality time with him. It made her feel a little sick to her stomach, but she couldn’t fight the urge to hold his hand and kiss his cheek any longer.

So as Goldie always did, she broke into the manor. Specifically, she made her way into Scrooge’s bedroom, hoping to see him and have some fun and be on her way again. But as her feet hit the floor, she found the room empty and quiet. Not a soul in sight.

She checked the clock on the wall. It was well after dinnertime. Maybe the family was watching a movie together or something. She didn’t know what close-knit families liked to do in their free time, but that seemed normal. Goldie made her way out his door and tiptoed across the hallway towards the foyer.

“She deserves to know more about where she comes from!”

Goldie froze and quickly hid behind a banister as she heard a familiar voice come from downstairs. She peeked around the marble to see who he was talking to.

“Of course, but just try not to overwhelm her. She’ll be overjoyed to fill in all the blanks she can about your ancestors.”

“And she should be! McDuck blood is strong and tough and she should know the accomplishments that made her who she is!”

“...right.”

Goldie stared at Scrooge and Beakley, walking side-by-side and obviously chatting about Webbigail. It seemed like they were about to have a big family conversation, which meant Goldie wouldn’t be welcome nor interested in being present for a bunch of stories she’d heard a thousand times already.

She made her way down another hallway, trying to decide whether or not she should leave or just wait for Scrooge in his room. He could be hours and she didn’t feel like sitting around or taking a nap, so perhaps combing through some old treasures and stealing something from him would be a fun way to pass the time.

As she continued down the hall, Goldie’s attention was drawn to a loud noise coming from what she recognized as the boys’ room. The door was ajar and the lights were on, so maybe she’d say hi to Sharpie as she decided what to steal.

In her usual sneaky way, Goldie stepped inside of the room without being noticed. Even the creak of the door couldn’t grab anyone’s attention - especially considering what was happening inside.

She stared incredulously at the sight of Della’s blue kid - Dewey, she was pretty sure - holding up signs in front of a camera and happily talking about the exciting week he’d just had. He rambled for a good twenty seconds about his cousin and her clones and how his family just kept getting cooler and more interesting every day, so Goldie opted to cross her arms over her chest and lean against the bunk beds and watch him.

It took two full minutes before Dewey noticed her, and as soon as he did he let out a high-pitched chirp that would’ve warmed her heart had it not frozen over long ago.

“What are you doing here?!” Dewey asked with an accusatory pointed finger.

Goldie put a hand to her chest in feigned offense. “Why, Dewford Duck, am I not allowed to sit in on your little show?”

He squinted his eyes at her for a few moments and slowly put a finger to his chin. “Hmmm...I guess. But I meant, like. Why aren’t you with Uncle Scrooge?”

“He’s busy,” Goldie shoved herself off the beds and walked over. “So what is this?”

Dewey’s eyes lit up as he realized his guest was bored enough to listen to him talk about his favorite thing in the world. “This is….Dewey Dew-Night! It’s my talk show!!”

“You have a talk show?” Goldie looked into the camera. “People watch this?”

“Well…” Dewey tapped his fingers together on top of his little desk. “Not really. But I tape every episode in case one of them is good enough to submit to local TV networks! I’m expecting to get a response for my episode on the Moonvasion any day now.”

Goldie stood up straight and put her hands on her hips, looking around Dewey’s pretend studio and observing how he organized everything. “That invasion was several months ago. I don’t think they’re gonna get back to you, kid.”

Dewey pouted. “Yeah, well...maybe it was too much.” He shuffled some papers around on his desk and glanced up at her. “Can I interview you?”

“Excuse me?” she asked, turning around and raising one eyebrow in disbelief.

“Can I interview you for my show?” he asked again.

Goldie rolled her eyes. “What sort of stuff would you be interviewing me about?”

He tapped his hands against the desk and stared at her. “You were captured by F.O.W.L., right? Can I ask you about that? What happened and what you went through?”

“Oh.” She thought he was going to ask her questions about Scrooge or her history and she had no interest in sharing those kinds of things with a child. This, however… “...sure, I guess.”

“Alright!” Dewey got up from his seat and grabbed a dish towel off a shelf. He quickly wiped down one of the chairs for his guests and then sat back down in his usual spot.

Goldie shrugged and took a seat.

Dewey tapped his hands again, clearly amping himself up and getting excited. “So, so, so, so so so sooooo!”

Goldie raised an eyebrow at him.

“Tell me everything that happened. I mean you, of all people, the great Goldie O’Gilt, were captured by agents of F.O.W.L.! They must’ve had ten men at once take you by surprise! Caught you completely off guard! You probably fought for your life!”

“Huh,” Goldie hummed. “I appreciate that this is the image you have of me, but it wasn’t nearly that exciting.”

“Aww...why not?”

“I did get caught by surprise,” she started, picking at the feathers at the ends of her fingers. “But I was knocked out pretty quickly. No big fight. Just me getting involved with Scrooge’s family drama, once again.”

Dewey stared at her suspiciously. “How’d they catch you by surprise?”

Goldie stared back, silently, debating what kind of answer to give him. The actual answer was a bit embarrassing for her to admit, and she didn’t plan on giving one of Scrooge’s kids that kind of ammunition. But she also knew the best kind of lie was one very close to the truth. “I got a text that I thought was from Scrooge. Said he needed to talk to me...and then what do you know? Not Scrooge. No talking.”

“Oh,” Dewey said, noticeably disappointed. “So you got ambushed? Knocked out with chloroform?!”

“It was some kind of gas, actually,” she responded matter-of-factly, ignoring the way he was trying to make her story more exciting. “Bomb shot in my face. Boom. Out like a light. Not my best moment, I’ll admit.”

“Well, you are pretty old,” Dewey said with a thoughtful finger in the air. “So what happened next? You woke up in a horrible cage, confused and trapped?!”

She ignored his ‘old’ comment and focused on the question instead. “Yeah, pretty much.”

He leaned forward and slammed his hands onto the desk. “Did they torture you?!”

“Oh, yeah. Big time torture.”

“Wait, really?” Dewey looked at the camera for a second and then back to Goldie. “That’s so scary. What’d they do?”

“They locked me up right next to Santa Claus,” Goldie complained, sticking out her tongue for disgusted emphasis. “I don’t know if you’ve met the man, but he’s an absolute dullard. I can’t hold a single conversation with him without getting annoyed.”

Dewey stared at her for a few moments, blinking silently. “...is that it?”

“What’d you expect? Cattle prods and the electric chair? They were just trying to get me out of the way, not kill me.”

“Oh,” he said, sitting back down. “I guess I should be happy that no one got seriously hurt, huh? Well except for Uncle Scrooge.”

“Eh, he can take it. He’s Scrooge McDuck, after all.”

“That’s true, he is!” Dewey nodded, looking at the camera again. “Alright so no big fight, no real torture…”

“That Santa thing was not a joke.”

“...so if you’re not here to get financial compensation from Uncle Scrooge, why’d you come here?”

Goldie looked confused for a moment. “...financial compensation?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you said it’s his fault you got caught up in his family drama so I figured you wanted him to pay up for all the trouble you’d gone through.”

“Huh,” she said quietly, trying to think of an appropriate response. “I genuinely hadn’t even considered that.”

“No?” He leaned over his desk again. “So...are you just here to visit? Like...hang out ‘n stuff?”

Goldie hoped her expression didn’t betray the lack of emotion in her response. “I suppose.”

“That’s kind of cool. Are you gonna come around more often?” Dewey asked, leaning on his elbows. “I know you and Louie are, like...friends or whatever, but you should know that me and Huey and Webby are all really cool, too! Or, well. Me and Webby are.”

She blinked slowly at him. The thought of her and Louie’s relationship being defined as ‘friends’ was odd, to say the least. “I, um. I’m not making any promises one way or another. Just wanted to see your Uncle and talk about things.”

Dewey looked at the camera and wiggled his eyebrows. “Oooh, things! Adult things? Like taxes and marriage?”

“Exactly like taxes and marriage.”

“If you guys get married, then you’d be Aunt Goldie, huh?” Dewey said with a smile.

Goldie’s eyes widened and for a brief moment she could’ve sworn she was looking at a preteen Della Duck again. The similarities between them were uncanny, but that little comment really caught her off guard.

“...I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Eh, well,” Dewey shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just call you Aunt Goldie anyway. Mom and Uncle Donald already do.”

Goldie held back a groan and just rolled her eyes instead. “They didn’t get my permission on that, you know.”

“Did you know them when they were my age?” Dewey asked suddenly, ignoring her comment. “I mean, you’ve known Uncle Scrooge for, like, a million years, right?”

“Not quite a million, but sometimes it feels like it,” Goldie droned. “Your mom was a lot like you when she was your age, you know.”

“I know!”

“...you know?”

“Yeah, two Christmases ago I traveled back in time and met her and Uncle Donald and we fought a wendigo together!”

“...yeah, alright.” Goldie sighed. “Scrooge still does his time travel on Christmas nonsense?”

“He didn’t last year, but I think that’s ‘cause he and one of his friends got into a fight the year I joined them,” Dewey mused, trying to remember who was who. “I’m not sure exactly what happened, but it seemed like a big deal.”

Goldie made a note of this to ask Scrooge about it later. “So you wanna hear some stories about your mom when she was a kid? I’m sure I’ve got something embarrassing I could tell you.”

“Well...I do absolutely wanna hear those,” Dewey said as he climbed onto the desk. “But also...I’m kind of curious about, um. About you.”

“Prepare yourself for disappointment, kid, I don’t like to talk about myself as much as your dear old uncle does.”

Dewey crawled forward and sat on the edge of his desk, dangling his legs over the side. “I know, I get that. Sort of. But, like...okay. So Uncle Scrooge told us you’re his ex-girlfriend, but then you were all dancey and smoochy and then you went on a date and we didn’t see him again for like two days and then the next time we see you you’re all smoochy again. And you’re friends with Louie now or something? So I’m just kind of confused, I guess? Like...mom and Uncle Donald don’t seem to trust you very much and Mrs. Beakley definitely doesn’t trust you at all and Uncle Scrooge says he doesn’t trust you but then he kisses you and why would you kiss someone you don’t trust, right? That’s just kind of weird.”

Goldie cleared her throat awkwardly. “Is there a question here?”

“Oh, right,” Dewey said, thinking back over his last sentences. “I guess, um...what’s your endgame?”

“My what?”

“Your goal?” He wiggled his legs back and forth. “Like...with Uncle Scrooge. And with us. Or do you have a secret huge family up in Canada that you give all your money to and that’s why you only show up every once in a while?”

Goldie, who’d been leaning on her elbow on the edge of the couch, lost her balance briefly thanks to the shock of his question. He really knew how to change the mood in a second flat. “I, uh…” She couldn’t help but glance at the camera and wonder if Scrooge watched his kid’s show. She doubted it, but still. “...I definitely do not have a secret family up in Canada. Or anywhere.”

Dewey nodded excitedly.

“Um... don’t you think asking for someone’s life goal is a little personal? You barely know me.”

“Really? They asked us that our first day in school,” Dewey said with a smile. “Plus I kind of know you! I know the stories we’ve heard from Uncle Scrooge, at least.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure if those tales are entirely accurate.”

“I’m sure they’re not that far off!” Dewey stood up on the desk again and posed dramatically. “Like the time you two fought a bunch of angry kangaroos and then rode them through the Australian desert!”

“...that’s true.”

“Or when you sailed through the Bermuda Triangle, saving both of your lives from an evil giant squid!”

“I don’t remember the squid, but you’d be surprised how many times I’ve fought one of those.”

“That’s so cool!” Dewey pointed two finger guns at her. “I’ve only met a giant squid once so far, but I’m hoping to add a few more to my repertoire over the next few years!”

Goldie ran her fingers through her ponytail and sighed. “You really are Della’s kid, aren’t you?”

“Did you know she was gonna name me Turbo?” Dewey asked excitedly, changing the subject once again. Goldie wondered if he always did that or just during his little interviews. “Apparently Uncle Donald knew about it and still chose Dewford which is totally insane! Turbo! I could’ve been Turbo!”

Goldie raised an eyebrow and let out a short chuckle. “You’re a funny kid.”

“Thanks!”

“Got any other questions for me?” Goldie asked, wondering how long it’d been since she last checked her phone. It felt like an hour but something told her it’d probably only been about ten minutes.

“Well you still didn’t answer my last question,” he answered as he settled back into his chair. “It just seems like you’ve come around a lot more in the past two years than you did ever before so if you’re thinking of marrying Uncle Scrooge and moving into the manor, you should let me and my audience know!”

“That’s a lot of assumptions to make based on a handful of house visits.”

“I’m not hearing a no…” Dewey leaned forward again.

“And you’re also not hearing a yes.” Goldie crossed her arms over her chest and crossed one leg over the other.

“Ahh, always so mysterious, Glittering Goldie O’Gilt!” Dewey said while staring directly at the camera. “Oh, that reminds me! You’re a singer, right? Or you used to be?”

Goldie felt a tiny bit surprised by that question and then a wave of embarrassment for being surprised. “...did Scrooge tell you that?”

“Yeah! And some other stuff. But I wanted to ask you something really important!”

“...which is?”

“I was thinking of reworking the Dewey Dew-Night! theme song and I’d love to get your input! I dunno if you ever did any song writing, but just getting advice from someone else with musical ears would be great for my chances of getting picked up!” Dewey held up his phone. “Can I play it right now or should I just send you a link and you’ll listen to it later?”

Goldie shook her head, realizing she would never be able to predict where this kid went. He was definitely not like Scrooge in that department. “Aaaand that’s my cue to leave.” She finally stood up, brushed non-existent dust off her pants, and gave Dewey and his camera a little wave before moving towards the bedroom door. She enjoyed this little waste of time (for the most part), but she had no interest in listening to some loud screechy theme song or answering questions about her days in Dawson.

“Aunt Goldie, wait!” Dewey shouted, hopping over his desk and rushing to grab her hand before she could leave the room.

She sighed and looked down at him. “What?”

“I just wanted to say that, well. If you did wanna come around more and hang out or move in or join the family or whatever...I think that’d be cool.”

Goldie blinked down at his genuine little expression and felt a tiny bit of heat come to her cheeks and her heart. “...that’s...very sweet of you to say, Turbo.”

Dewey’s eyes lit up as Goldie made her way out the door and he did a little butt wiggling dance in celebration. He pulled out his phone and quickly texted Louie to ask for Goldie’s number. He stopped in front of his camera and posed. “I’m sure she’ll listen to the theme song later today, probably just wanted a nice quiet spot in the house to really feel the music. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say. It’s gonna be Turbo-tacular!”

#ducktales #goldie o'gilt #dewey duck #scroldie #not your aunt #fic #fics #all i ever want is dewey to interview goldie

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 4 years

Text

Someone - Ghost Ben Hargreeves x Ghost!Reader

Request: Ben hargreeves x reader who is also a ghost??? And klaus ships the hell out of em & Ghost ben x ghost reader with klaus third wheeling hehehehe i need more platonic klaus and reader stuffss

Warnings: mentions of drugs (well.. it’s Klaus) and death (uhm bc ghosts?)

Word count: 2 045

“TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR-!”

Klaus jumped up so quickly that he almost fell out of his bed. The bright sunlight that was shining into his room was blinding and hurt his eyes, mostly, but not only, due to the terrible hangover he was suffering from.

“What-“

He blinked and noticed two figures standing at the end of the bed. One was Klaus’s deceaced, adopted brother Ben, and the other was you, the also deceased neighbor, who the Hargreaves kids had been friends with for as long as they could think. Now both ghosts stood in Klaus’ room, staring down at him in worry. Klaus usually loved his sleep but today your obnoxiously loud and off-key singing had woken him up for good; saved him from the lost souls that chased him in his nightmares.

“You were screaming,” Ben explained, crouching down to his brother. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Klaus shook his head no and slowly untangled himself from his blanket, earning an unnerved screech from you.

“Seriously, you sleep in a shirt but without pants?”

You turned away, deciding that it was too early in the day to be faced with Klaus’ bare legs in all their pale beauty.

Ben just chuckled.

“You hang around all the time anyway,” Klaus answered, reaching for the hand Ben had offered him, but was only met with thin air, causing him to sigh and get up by himself. “I bet you peek when I take a bath!”

“Oh, he’s fine,” you answered Ben’s question that had originally been directed at Klaus. “If he can hit on a dead person this early in the morning, he’s fine.”

And with these words you left the room. Through the wall.

Ben watched as Klaus wandered over to the chair by his desk and grabbed a flower skirt which he put on.

“Oh man, seriously?”

“What? Flowers match my aesthetics!”

“I meant the stupid lines you throw at (y/n) all the time. You know they don’t like it! You’re just gonna chase them away eventually,” Ben complained.

“Oh, they know it’s just banter,” Klaus disagreed, “and you’re just jealous that you don’t have the courage to be so open.”

Ben’s eyes widened, and he almost would have jumped forward to cover Klaus’ mouth with his hands to make him be quiet, but it would not have made a difference anyway since he was not made of matter.

“Shh,” he hissed instead, “They might hear you!”

“Oh come on,” Klaus threw his hands in the air, “did you still not tell them you like them? I didn’t raise you to be such a coward!”

“Yeah, you didn’t raise me at all,” Ben spit back, “and it doesn’t have to do anything with cowardice, just so you know.”

“Oh really, then why didn’t you tell them yet?”

Ben sighed, not sure what to answer. He did like you, very much in fact. But you were friends, and if he confessed that he liked you… the usual problems anyone who had ever been in love with their friend. But with the little additional problem that both of you were dead. For all eternity. You would both be stuck together in this weird situation until the end of time.

In the meantime, oblivious to the conversation that was going on in Klaus’ room, you were wandering around the Hargreaves mansion. Sometimes it upset you that you had no possibility to talk to anyone, other times you had fun commenting on the inhabitants’ routines the same way a sports reporter would, but today you were content just strolling around the house.

Grace was sitting in the gallery, embroidering flowers onto a white piece of cloth. For a while you watched her precise movements, then you walked over to the edge of the balustrade and watched Diego practicing his knife throwing. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, and was throwing his knives against the door while turning to change the angle as often as possible. With slight amusement you watched the cold metal blades boring themselves into the massive wood where they stayed stuck, vibrating from the impact.

After you had watched Diego for a while you walked downstairs into the kitchen, where you found Luther brooding over his oatmeal.

“Knock, knock, anyone home?”

You pretended to knock your knuckles against Luther’s head.

“Sorry, that wasn’t very nice,” you mumbled, and flopped down on the chair opposite him. “sooo, what’s going on inside that head of yours, hm?”

Since, unlike Klaus, Luther could neither see nor hear you, he did not respond or even move, he just kept staring at his half eaten breakfast.

“How do you do that, dealing with your feelings for Allison,” you wondered, still not receiving an answer, but not expecting one either, “everyone knows you guys have a thing for each other, and you are always around each other. How does that not totally destroy you?”

Luther sighed and picked up his spoon, twirling it between his fingers.

“I mean… do you feel remotely as lonely as I do? Every time I see Ben, or even think of him, I… I see what I could have, how perfect he is, how kind, how… broken. He never wanted his power, yet he was the one burdened with it, and it’s so hard for him. And I just want to help, but I also want so much more! I want to hug him, and kiss him, and tell him everything will be alright! I want to make sure he’ll always be safe and welcome with me, and… then I remember that he just does not feel the same affection for me as I feel for him… and it just sucks.”

Luther dipped the spoon into the oatmeal, and pulled it back out, but instead of eating it, he turned the spoon so the oatmeal dripped of the spoon and back into the bowl, making a strange, wet sound.

“Yeah, something like that.”

~*~

No matter how much you adored Klaus and the stupid jokes he was making, you could not always hang around him. It was not so much his character, or Ben’s constant presence that made things hard as much as it was what he poor bastard did to himself. You were pretty certain Klaus had tried out every single drug nature and mankind had ever developed, and he spent most of his waking time getting high on them. You just could not watch it. You and Ben were the only two ghosts who got through to him once he was all drugged up, and you had lost count on how many times you had tried to stop Klaus from taking whatever he was about to take, but to no avail. He never listened. And while Ben hung out with Klaus for whatever reason, you just could not. Klaus was not your responsibility, and he had made it pretty clear that he did not want your concern either. And so you tried to stay away from him most of the time he was not clear.

The sun already began to set over the city when you made your way up to the roof. You loved sitting out here, watching the last light fade in the distance and the stars creep out of their hiding. You missed the feeling of the sunbeams on your skin and the wind in your hair, but at least you still got to watch these perfectly rich colours on the horizon and on the roofs.

You wondered whether in ten, twenty, a hundred or even a thousand years you would still be able to enjoy these images as much as you enjoyed them now. Would you stop caring eventually, when everybody who had ever bound your soul to this world had died? Would you turn bitter and angry, like a poltergeist? You could not remember ever having met such a ghost. Most of the time the other dead people were just shadows of their former selves, and hardly any were as conscious and active as Ben and you. Would you lose this energy eventually? Would you too just turn into some dead shadow of your former self?

While you were still thinking about these topics, Ben had slowly approached you, and sat down next to you. Only then you noticed him.

Turning your gaze away from the skyline, you looked over at him. Ben’s eyes were closed and his head was dropped back into his neck as if he was trying to feel the wind and sun on his face. But you knew he could not. Some people might think it to be romantic to be a ghost, but really it just felt like you had been robbed of some of the best things in life, like the feeling of wind and sun and water, your favourite foods and long Sunday naps.

“How was your day,” you asked, looking back at the horizon.

“Ah, you know,” Ben shrugged, “the usual. Klaus being a dick, Klaus being annoying, Klaus sleeping, Klaus listening to music …” You laughed, and Ben could not help but feel a little proud for having made you laugh. “And yours?”

“Watched Grace, watched Diego, had a very one-sided conversation with Luther and some of the portraits in the gallery, and I am currently enjoying this wonderful sunset,” you summarized.

“What did you talk to Luther about,” Ben wondered, and for a moment you wondered if he was jealous. But of course he was not. Why should he be? Luther did not even know you existed in this afterlife.

“Allison, loneliness, as you said, the usual,” you answered.

“You’re lonely,” Ben wondered, and turned to look at you.

“Sometimes,” you admitted, “I mean… I can see my family every day, but I can’t change anything about how their lives have changed without me. I never thought my dad would be one to drink, but here we are! And my siblings are all grown up now, moving away, living… and I’m just here like… maybe I should attend college, just out of curiosity. Or go to some workshop for knitting, even if I can’t do it myself.” You hesitated for a moment, before continuing more quietly. “I just feel like I’m lacking sense. Like… something’s missing.”

“Or someone,” Ben added, more to himself, but when he looked up from where he had been staring at his hands, he saw you were looking at him.

“Someone,” you asked, not sure if you wanted an explanation.

He did not answer. He just stared at you. At the sunbeams that caught in your lashes and made them glow, but left no shadows on your cheeks, at the way your eyes skipped over his face, trying to read his expression, but failing. Over the years he had learned that the only thing that felt real in this strange state of being a ghost was the touch of another ghost, and it felt weird and foreign since it happened so rarely. Ben did not know why exactly, or whether there was any reason at all, when he leant forward and pressed his lips to yours. Maybe it was just to stop that look on your face that tried to hide disappointment. Maybe it was because he had wanted to do this since he had been a teenager. Much to his relief you did not pull away, instead you leant in, gently kissing him back and driving his heart crazy, especially when you decided to place your hand at the side of his face to pull him closer. Your skin was warm and soft and real, so different from the strange world of the living all around the two of you. Ben did not quite realise it until he had pulled away again, cheeks blushed and lips swollen, but something felt different. It was not just the ecstatic feeling of knowing you liked him just as much as he liked you, but something more. What had you said about this feeling of loneliness earlier? As if something, someone, was missing? Ben leant his forehead against you and felt your eyelashes flatter against his skin. That feeling of something missing was gone now. He had found the Someone he had been missing. You.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @robinruns @marty-delorean05 @lookalivefrosty @jayloverthe3rd @butterflycore @vamp-void @angelevansfalls @starduststyx

UA: @myrandom-fandomlife

#ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader fluff #ben hargreeves fluff #ben hargreeves x reader fanfiction #ben hargreeves x reader fanfic #ben hargreeves x reader imagine #ben hargreeves x reader imagines #ben hargreeves fanfiction #ben hargreeves fanfic #ben hargreeves imagines #ben hargreeves imagine #umbreall academy fanfiction #umbrella academy fanfic #umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy imagines #fanfiction #fanfic #The Umbrella Academy #fluff

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salmonmakiii · 4 years

Note

hii! i'd like to request a timestamp if it's okay with you? Could you people write about 3am boyfriend tsukishima, angst to fluff? thank you so much and have an amazing day!! 💕🤗

Heya! Sorry this took long, writer’s block sucks :( I hope this came out nice!

[03:00]

About : Tsukishima x reader Note : Angst, Fluff. Forgive me if I have mistakes!

It was an accident. You and Tsukishima knew that.

But all the pent up stress and those lack of sleep he’s had, being rational was the last thing on his mind right now.

You met Tsukishima 2 years ago when you had just moved to your apartment. He was the next-door neighbor and you would greet him every morning. A few weeks passed and you guys suddenly became friends because you share the same interest; stargazing. The apartment rooftop was perfect for that. You accidentally met up at around 3 am, awkwardly talk with each other, and would go back about an hour later.

You were interested in him and was happy that you finally got the chance to talk. Although you admit, he was a bit cold and snarky with his comments but other than that he was fun to talk to. The next day you met up again, then the next day, then the next, and then the next. This became a regular thing for both of you. Of course, that was before the busy schedule you both had. Now, you’d probably meet up twice or three times a week.

And with that frequent emotional talks, you both grew closer, and eventually, Tsukishima confessed to you one night. So here you were, two years of being together. There were playful insults thrown at each other, but never actual fights. Your favorite was when he would diss you non-stop when you’re not taking care of yourself.

“Can you just eat? I don’t want to drag your ass to the hospital.”

You would often visit him every morning before his class starts and these were one of those mornings. You visit him in his apartment and there you saw his boyfriend, holding his head with his left hand as he held a paper in the other. A thick stack of papers was right in front of him. You’re guessing it was the assignment he’d been working hard on since last week – because he didn’t totally complain to you at all about it for the past week.

“Didn’t you say you have morning classes today?” Tsukishima asked, his eyes not leaving the paper.

“No. The professor called in sick today, so I’m free.” You teased as you sat in front of him. He scoffed and mumbled something about how lucky you are.

“Do you mind if I go get a drink?” You asked, already on your way to the dispenser.

“Sure,”

You gave him a mini thanks and searched for the glass in the cabinets. Once you got it, you filled it with water in the dispenser.

“When is that due?” You asked the glass was now filled. You walked over to him again as he hummed.

“Tomorrow.”

“Ah, okay.”

You sat in front of your boyfriend once again, watching how his eyebrows were furrowed and how he had eye bags under his eyes. You took a sip of your drink and frowned at your dead-looking boyfriend. You wanted to help him, you do, but you don’t know how. You looked at his knitted eyebrows and an idea popped up in your head.

“Kei,” You called. He only answered with a hum. Pouting, you called him once again,

“Kei, Look at me,” Finally lifting his head, you put on a silly face that he always despises, but secretly found funny.

“What are you doing?” he asked, shaking his head as he tried to stifle a laugh. Seeing that it wasn’t good enough, you leaned in closer.

“I don’t know. I just feel like there’s something wrong with my face, is there?” You asked, still making the face. Tsukishima finally laughed and you were happy to see your boyfriend smiling.

You cheered, but while doing so, your hand suddenly knocks the glass of water in front of you, spilling the liquid all over the table. The stacks of paper in the middle soaking up all the water. The room was now dead silent, both of you staring at the stacks of paper and spilled water with wide eyes.

Your look at Tsukishima and the paper, your eyes shaking at the horrifying expression the boy across you had.

“K-Kei-“

“What did you do?” He asked, his voice low.

“I- I accidentally-“

“Did you know how long it took me to print out all these?!” You flinched at his shout and your feet felt like it grew roots. You stared at him, trying to form words to apologize, to calm him down, to reason with him, anything. But all you could do was stare, mouth agape.

Tsukishima walked past you, going to the kitchen to get a towel. He walked right back towards the table and wiped the spilled water.

“Let me help-“

“No. Just-“ He sighed, scrunching the soaked paper in his hands.

“Just get out.” Tsukishima continued to wipe the table, his back now facing you.

His words felt like knives in your chest. There wasn’t a hint of his everyday cynical attitude in his tone at all and you were scared. Afraid of upsetting him more, you bowed a full 90 degrees, mumbling a shaky apologize as you took careful steps out of his apartment.

If anyone were there to see you walk by, they’ll think you just exited from a murder scene.

Back in your apartment, you sat on your couch, still trying to process all of it. You spilled water into his work he’s been doing for a week and he just kicked you out of his apartment without sparing you a glance. You were screwed.

You jump a little when you hear a door slam, you stared at your door.

Kei must be on his way to campus…

After an hour of staring at the ceiling, you mustered the courage to text an apology to him. Shaky hands and eyes a bit watery when you pressed send. Sighing loudly, you lay there on your couch, trying to calm yourself down and think of a way you could make it up to him.

“Can I send it to your email just in case? You know how my laptop is.”

You jolted from your position, eyes wide. The memory of Tsukishima’s voice replayed in your head as you frantically open your laptop. You opened your email and your heart races with excitement as you quickly downloaded the file as you ran to your bedroom to get your USB. Running back to the living room, you hastily plugged in the USB and surprisingly got it in the first time. Copying the file to the USB, you grabbed your jacket, tote bag, wallet, and ejected the USB as you dashed out of your apartment for a copy shop.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

You leaned on the railings on the rooftop as you sighed. The wind softly blowing against your features as you looked down at the almost empty streets below you. Most of the lights in the surrounding buildings were off and the sky wasn’t that dark anymore. The moon was slightly on the west side, still illuminating the night sky. The stars above you twinkling as you’re enveloped in silence. It’s the perfect night.

After you had printed out all the papers, you put it in two clear folders, re-check the order, and finally set it nicely inside Tsukishima’s mailbox. You text him to give him a heads up, but you’re still worried if he even read your texts. You took out your phone from your pocket, the screen telling displaying “03:00”. You opened your lock, the wallpaper – a picture of you and an annoyed, blushing, Tsukishima – made you miss him even more.

You open your message with Tsukishima, he still didn’t read your message.

What if he didn’t see my message? What if he already printed out a new batch of it? What if- huh?

You eyed your message.

Tsukishima had just read it.

Just as you were still confused about what to do with this information, you hear someone clears their throat behind you. You flinched and turned around. Your eyes meeting those familiar golden ones. Tsukishima was staring at you, his face stoic and cold as ever. He was wearing his grey hoodie with a roaring dinosaur in the middle, his hair was a little messy but it looked cute on him.

“K-Kei! I almost had a heart attack!” You held your phone to your chest in hopes to calm your beating heart.

“You’re being dramatic.” He said, walking up to the railing and leaned against it.

“So, I heard you spilled water on someone’s project-“

“Kei-“

“That they worked HARD for,”

You winced, hearing him emphasize. You stared at your boyfriend and he was staring right back at you with his smug face. You looked down and fiddled with your fingers.

Tsukishima felt like he was scolding a puppy. He felt the tiniest guilt, but he didn’t want to let you go that easily.

“I’m guessing that’s why you’re here right now, even though you have an 8 am class tomorrow.” He teasingly scoffed. Usually, his teasing would make you feel less tense but it didn’t seem to be working right now. He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his hair.

“Thanks,” His voice was above a whisper.

“Huh?” You snapped your head up in shock. What was he thanking you for?

“I got the package you sent me,” He gave you a side glance.

“But you just read my message?”

“I saw you putting it in my mailbox.”

“Oh,”

There was silence once again. Tsukishima stepped closer and abruptly snaked his hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You looked up at him and you can see the small blush on his cheeks, his eyes were looking at anything but you.

“Sorry about getting mad at you,” He said in a rather gibberish mumbling, but you were glad you could make up what he was saying.

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who spilled that water.” You said, reaching up your hand to pinch his cheek.

“Besides, stop acting like that, it’s weird.” You pulled his cheeks, riling him up.

“Will you stop that?” He batted your hand away and you laughed at his bashful sight.

“Let’s just go back, it’s freezing up here and I don’t want to take care of you when you catch a cold.” He groaned, his hand still around you as he walked back towards the entrance.

“What makes you think I need you?” You pinched his sides.

“I don’t know. I’m afraid you might flood the whole apartment if I don’t,”

“I told you it was an accident you salty excuse of a human being!”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll squish you,”

“If you mean squish as in cuddling, then I won’t shut up!”

Tsukishima suddenly leaned in and placed a kiss to your lips. His actions catching you off guard. He plastered on a smirk, seeing that his plan had worked.

“If I talk some more, will you kiss me again to shut me up?” You asked,

“No. I’ll throw you off this rooftop.”

“You wouldn’t-“ Tsukishima gave you a daring glare, his grip on your arm tightens. You shut your mouth immediately and looked forward.

“Okay! Shutting my mouth now.”

You both ended up cuddling in his apartment that night.

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0bianidalas · 4 years

Text

The unsolicited AlexReggie ship manifesto

DISCLAIMER: This is obviously meant as a rant post about a ship I can enjoy in fandom spaces and not an actual request from me to make AlexReggie canon in the show or any of the sorts. I am quite happy and excited about the actual canon LGBT+ ship of this show, which is Willie x Alex. Do not get that twisted.

That being said, let me talk to you about the amazing, entertaining dynamic Alex and Reggie have that makes them super easy and fun to ship them:

I wanna start off by saying that I’m mostly writing this because I feel like they are either unfairly underlooked or just grossly misread; and I’m more upset about the latter. (Someone on this hellsite actually had the nerve to say Alex doesn’t take Reggie seriously so. I just had to get this off my chest)

So what’s this amazing, entertaining dynamic you speak of?

Alex and Reggie are best friends. That much is clear from the very first minutes of the show. It’s not Alex is Luke’s friend who’s friends with Reggie or the other way around. They’re all best friends.

In fact, Alex and Reggie’s very first interaction is just about the sweatest we get to see them. Their first interaction:

Reggie goes over to Alex to compliment him specifically on how he played at the rehearsal which leads us to a lot of grey areas of headcanoning (was Alex the last to join and so he was shy or nervous around the others? Maybe Reggie just likes to compliment him for some reason, or my personal favorite: Reggie knew Alex was anxious about playing the Orpheum so he thought Alex needed reassurance of his awesomeness? ), but the matter is: Reggie thinks Alex is awesome.

However, them being sweet best friends is not their entire dynamic (and thank God), no. Alex and Reggie are the quippy best friends, they’re the Vitriolic Best Buds (type one– with Reggie being more on the ‘unaware of the vitriol’ side):

“A very good measure of how good your friends are is how much you can insult them without them taking offense.”— Heliomance

When two people who are the very best of friends behave like the very worst of enemies.

Alex pokes fun at Reggie saying “he can see you” when Carlos asks if the ghost is “hiddeous”. Reggie makes fun of Alex for crying and being “a very emotional person” (even when Alex isn’t even there).

But at the end of the day, and this is where I wanna emphasize: they’re the ones to show care first and immidiately for each other.

It’s stated that their friendship runs deep between all three of them (Luke, Alex and Reggie), but I’m not gonna write the manifesto for the OT3 yet so bear with me:

In episode 1x02: when Alex complains about them not giving him a hug when he was crying in the “void”, Reggie goes to hug him without hesitation – for Alex to turn him down because, again, that’s their primary dynamic.

Same episode, a few minutes later: Reggie gets overwhelmed about Ray crying and asks to see his parents and Alex turns to him and sotfly goes “Yeah”

In episode 1x07: when Alex is upset about Willie and Reggie gives him a reassuring comment about how there’ll be others which Alex takes greatfully and openly.

Episode 1x09: after Alex has said goodbye to Willie and Reggie goes over his shoulder to ask him if he’s alright

Same episode, a few minutes later: when Reggie voices his concerns about what will happen to them if they cross over and Alex turns to him, again, his voice softer than it usually is when he speaks to Reggie, and tells him that “It’s not like we have a choice”, to ease him up a bit.

What I mean to say with this is: Luke is, as I can read in the context of what we’ve seen in the first season, the least emotionally intelligent out of the three of them and so since Luke lacks in that department–> it means Alex and Reggie have each other.

Again, they’re like – really best friends when you truly look. Mostly because Luke suffers from his trope of the front-man and main male protagonist, so he’s capable of going on his own or with Julie to explore other bonds while Alex and Reggie have less and lesser and a lot of that is spent with each other.

Alex tells Reggie about Willie, Reggie pays attention and actually cares about the stuff he’s learning both from Alex as an extension of Willie and then about what he can get from the rest of the world. Alex and Reggie – most of the time during the season – are on the same page about stuff and together, while Luke is off doing his own things, mostly with Julie as she is the protagonist.

Granted, Alex main focused relationship is with Willie (and I’m super greatful for that), but after Willie, and this is where I take no criticsm, it’s Reggie who comes on the list. Not Luke, not Julie or Carrie– Alex immidiate secondary focused-dynamic as of Season 1 is Reggie (if only slightly tied with the boys as a trio itself, obviously).

Then there’s the aspect of them individually and how they contrast each other. Alex is obviously the smarter of the three and Reggie falls further on the scale, all the way to the side. That makes them a little the Smart Jerk, Nice Moron trope except Alex isn’t that much of a jerk all the time. However, it works, because not only it makes up for great comedic bits (literally all of their scenes together omg) but also because you can’t have one without the other or it’d be awfully unbalanced.

The “rhythm section” duo

Yes, I even wanna talk about the symbolism of their instruments too and how they’re linked through that. Drums and bass are not only essential to any band but they’re also very important and rely on each other. I’m no music expert at all, but even I know one usually follows after the other to keep the pace of the rhythm.

This article has some many interesting takes on the relationship between the drummer and the bassist:

“A drummer’s comprehension of the role of bass guitar is often far greater than most guitarists.”

“Everyone in the band is of course on the team, but the bond between the bassist and drummer is something so deep that it usually takes a long time to develop.”

“Bassists and drummers are the rhythm section together, meaning one instrument consisting of two parts.”

“Simply put, the bassist and drummer really are the rhythm section. It’s not the guitarist and certainly not the damn keyboard player. That can be an unclear distinction at times, but I feel strongly about it. Bass and drums should be an inseparable pair, sonically speaking,” he continues. “That’s not to say that all kick patterns should be followed to the tee, but there should be an obvious and palpable awareness of what each other is doing. There are too many nuances to list that can go with or against that grain. In short, bass and drums should always be intertwined like hot, sweaty lovers having the rawest, musical sex.” — Miles McPherson

I find the whole ✨semiotic✨ of this very poetic on its own, but it’s also an OT3 thing I’ll get on later, I think.

Ultimately, Owen and Jeremy make it work, too. Duh. Their chemestry on screen really gives you the vibe that despite all the times Alex looks at Reggie like he’s fed up and wants to die all over again ("I wish I couldn’t see you”), Alex still finds him endearing and just…he loves the guy. And obviously Reggie – the heart of the boys trio– just loves him right back:

I just think they’re cute and funny and even when I’m not shipping them, I’m still appreciating them from a mlm solidarity pov (bc Reggie is definitely bi) and whoever said that Alex doesn’t take Reggie seriously or ever tries to even imply Alex wouldn’t set the whole world on fire to keep Reggie warm is just not watching the same goddamn show.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #alex x reggie #reggie x alex #alex #reggie #yes it's almost 1 am and my head is FULL of ALEXREGGIE UNDERRATED SOULMATES #long post #meta #otp: come on reginald

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inkribbon796 · 3 years

Text

What a Beautiful Wedding Ch. 6: The Wings of the Antarctic Empire

Summary: Tommy is desperate to convince Phil and Techno they’re in some kind of trap and he’d like to be taken seriously just once.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

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Channel 6

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Tommy found himself at the foot of the long, tall black stone staircase. Philza was looking down at him.

When he set his foot on the first step, Techno drew his sword and stepped in front of Phil. “I don’t think so.”

“Phil!” Tommy yelled up. “Yer[1] both in some kinda[2] illusion. Wake up.”

About five guards appeared from almost nowhere and aimed their arrows at him, Tommy recognized the pink of Niki’s hair among them. Techno took two steps down from the altar.

“Take ‘em ta the holdin’ room,”[3] Phil ordered, spreading his wings and he held the baby close to him as he flew off.

“Let’s go,” Techno ordered as he walked down the steps, Tommy found himself at the dangerous end of Techno’s sword. “Come on.”

Tommy held his hands up and turned, which resulted in Techno pushing Tommy forward.

“Don’t fuckin’[4] shove me!” Tommy shouted, but Techno and Niki lead them to the palace.

Tommy sat down in some uncomfortable chair as Techno and Niki stared at him. Ghostbur looked at Niki nervously.

“H-Hey,” Ghostbur smiled at Niki.

“Stay back,” Niki told him, bow and arrow pointed down, but not notched or ready to fire yet.

“The two of you are waiting until the old man gets back,” Techno told him.

“Techno, come on, man, you have ta[5] know this is Dream’s doin’[6],” Tommy groaned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you’re not careful you will get yourself shot,” Techno warned.

The heavy doors of the room were pushed open and Phil walked in. The lack of snow or distance gave Tommy a good look at the man. Little things about Philza were different. His eye color for one. The Phil that Tommy had always known had blue eyes but now he had more of blue-green color. He was maybe an inch or two taller. Not any taller than the other people in the room but it was noticeable enough to Tommy. His blond hair had a slightly dustier tint to it.

Phil paused when he looked at Tommy. “Stand down.”

Niki took her arrow away from her bow, “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had a visitor like this,” Phil told them. “You two are from the future aren’tcha[7]?”

“Uh, yeah?” Tommy said. “We’re in an illusion. It’s Dream, he’s done somethin’[8].”

Philza just started staring at Ghostbur as a look of realization dawned on him. “I . . . Wilbur?”

“My name is Ghostbur,” Ghostbur corrected nervously, ducking behind Tommy a bit.

Niki seemed to recoil and Techno began slowly coming back to himself, clutching his head as he began grunting in pain and his knees crashed to the ground.

“Techno!” Phil rushed over.

“They’re too loud,” Techno grunted.

Tommy began stomping over, “What’s that green bastard doin’ ta yeh?”[9]

Phil used a wing to knock Tommy away before Techno was able to stab Tommy with a sword, his eyes a blood red and a frenzied look in his eyes.

“Tech, Tech, follow my voice, yeh[10] don’t need ta[5] fight here,” Phil told Techno as the warrior thrashed his head back and forth.

Niki inched closer and passed Phil a vial, he placed it under Techno’s nose and he began calming down.

“Thanks,” Phil said and inched closer. “Techno, yeh[10] need me ta[5] clear the room?”

“No, I,” Techno paused, swallowing. “I’ve got it.”

“What did that fucker do ta[5] you?” Tommy demanded. “It’s bad enough he’s got us trapped in here.”

“Dream’s not powerful enough for that,” Techno had a slight chuckle to his voice as he stood up.

“We still need ta[5] get out,” Tommy reminded him. “Tubbo an’[11] Ranboo are still trapped.”

Philza sighed, rather dramatically before he held his hand up and magic covered his hand before there was what felt like an earthquake and then a crash of some kind. Tommy, Shroud, and Ghostbur’s outfits changed into something that matched Phil and Techno’s. Tommy realized he was wearing a circlet, perched on his head and when he went to take it off to look at it he saw that it was studded with green and blue stones, and etched with perfect craftsmanship.

Tommy immediately rushed to the nearest window and saw at the foot of the palace, right outside the ground, an inn. And Tubbo stumbled out of it, looking around wildly. He was in an outfit that almost matched Tommy’s, but without the circlet and he was wearing thick gloves.

Ranboo followed after him, he was wearing a long purple cloak. But behind him, Michael was peeking his head out from behind Ranboo’s cloak.

Tommy immediately raced out of the palace, shoulding past guards and palace servants as he tried to get to Tubbo.

“Tubbo!” Tommy raced over but Tubbo glared at him, his false eye’s iris glowed with its radioactive symbol right before he punched Tommy in the gut.

“The fuck!” Tommy shouted angrily.

“I was safe!” Tubbo shouted in a fury. “Me an’[11] Ranboo an’[11] Michael were safe. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t do anythin’[12],” Tommy shouted back in anger.

“T-Tubbo,” Ranboo warned, and tried to hide Michael in his cloak.

Tubbo stopped and looked past Tommy to see, to his horror, that Techno was watching them as Michael peeked his head around Ranboo’s cape, holding his larger hand in his much smaller one.

Techno’s eyes narrowed and Tubbo moved, scooping Michael up and glaring at Techno.

“Stay back!” Tubbo ordered Techno with an angry snarl. “Get away!”

Techno looked between the three of them, Michael just staring at Techno with huge, wide dark eyes, the gears clearly starting to turn in his head.

The warrior took a step forward and Ranboo took a step forward. “Techno! Techno! Wait please, don’t hurt them.”

“Are you with them?” Techno demanded.

“I, uh,” Ranboo clearly had a look of panic on his face. “Yeah, but look I just want you to know—”

“I don’t care what you spend your time with but did it have to be with the government?” Techno spat at Ranboo.

“He’s my husband, of course I spend time with him,” Ranboo told him.

“Ehhh!” Techno sputtered. “When did you get married?!”

“Almost a year ago?” Ranboo asked.

“A year? Why am I just learning now?” Techno told him. “I’m like your mentor, I should have been the first person you told.”

“You don’t like Tubbo,” Ranboo reminded.

“Because he and Quackity tried to kill me with axes, why would I like the guy?” Techno snapped.

“Well, yeah, that makes sense,” Ranboo admitted.

“Take the kid, we’ll go inside to Phil,” Techno jabbed his thumb at the palace. “And don’t worry, not killin’[13] the kid. He’s Ranboo’s too after all, right?”

“Yeah,” Ranboo answered.

“Good,” Techno told him but Tubbo still glared at Techno suspiciously. He followed at the back of the group, always braced to dump Michael into Tommy’s arms and pull out the first weapon he could get his hands on.

He only marginally calmed down when he saw Phil and Techno started complaining to Phil about Ranboo, and then balked when he found out Philza was already aware of the boy.

The little meet-up was interrupted when Jack Manifold raced in, in uniform after getting pulled in from the bubble Tubbo and Ranboo had been trapped in.

“Emperor! Enemy soldiers were spotted at the gate!” Jack yelled, the trio of teens and Niki stared at Phil in surprise.

“Where from?” Phil called out.

“From the Errin Empire,” Jack reported. “They were dressed like they were in the royal guard. We were able to apprehend them.”

“Shit,” Phil spat. “I want three guards in front ‘a[14] the nursery. Ranboo, take Michael an’[11] go with them. Niki, make sure no one gets in.”

“O-Okay,” Ranboo stammered nervously, grabbing Michael, and standing in front of Tommy expectantly. It took Tommy a bit to realize he was quietly asking Tommy to take Shroud. Tommy nodded and passed him over, Shroud became very upset to leave Tommy’s arms.

“On it!” Niki pushed Ranboo after the soldiers the instant he had both young boys in his arms.

“Tommy, Tubbo, behind me,” Philza ordered.

“Hold up, why are you the Emperor, yer[1] an anarchist?” Tubbo asked.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Techno interrupted as Puffy, Jack, and a couple soldiers dragged Chase and Jackie in.

“That’s new,” Techno hummed.

“We spotted an enemy force, we think it’s Lord Phantom,” Puffy announced.

Jackie turned to look out the window, seeing a wall of darkness in the sky, coming for them. “Storm’s comin’[15] in,” Jackie commented.

“That’s the Entity,” Phil corrected.

“What? Dark?” Chase perked up, starting to try and twist himself out of the rope tying his wrists behind his back.

Puffy kicked him down, so that he was face-down on the ground and placed a foot on his wrists. “Not so fast, buddy.”

“Puffy, let him up,” Phil ordered, “cut ‘em[16] both from their bonds.”

“You sure?” Puffy asked, taking her foot off.

“Yes,” Phil ruffled out his wings. “Battle stations! Average, can you talk Ent down?”

“I think so?” Chase said, rubbing at his wrists as he wisely kept his distance from Phil. “I just need ta[5] reach him, I didn’t forget so I imagine he’s still good too.”

The storm reached them and Phil started to hear the screams.

“How’d they sneak up that quickly?!” Jack yelled.

“Because none ‘a[14] this is real,” Phil told him.

The door was thrown open and Phantom was standing there in royal purple. “Phil, Techno, long time no see. It’s just like old times.”

“So yer[1] awake, then,” Phil sighed.

“Where’s Dark?” Chase demanded.

Phantom motioned with his head back, “Dealing with the town.”

“Then move outta[17] the fookin’[4] way,” Chase snarled.

“Aww, he’s having fun out there,” Phantom smiled.

“Here I’d hoped he wouldn’t work with yeh[10] again, yeh[10] always have been a shite[18] friend,” Phil glared at him.

“Ehh, we were both standing on the cliff, and he wanted to blow off some steam,” Phantom shrugged. “You know empaths, they get a little needy when they’re emotional so I just let him go off.”

“Fook[19] off,” Chase spat at him. “Jackie!”

Jackie grabbed Chase and they blitzed past Phantom, who rolled his eyes.

“Don’t blame me when he starts getting snippy,” Phantom scoffed, bracing as he smiled at Phil and Techno. “Let’s tango, boys.”

As Phantom braced for a fight, Chase raced out into the storm.

“Dark!” Chase screamed over the whirlwind of snow. Chase was racing towards the darkest part of the storm. “Dark!”

The darkness seemed to evaporate and Dark had some soldier by the throat, when he looked at Chase he paused. “Chase?”

“There yeh[10] are,” Chase felt relief, walking over, a rumbling passing through the bubble as it began weakening from outside attacks. “We’re goin’ home. Yer okay. I’m takin’ yeh home an’ yeh can relax.”[20]

Dark blinked in disorientation, he felt drained. Phantom must have snagged some of his aura when he wasn’t looking, or the anomaly was taking more from him than he realized. “Yeah, I think that’s for the best.”

Chase was almost within arms reach and Dark realized his body needed a nap because it was getting harder to focus on things.

“Hey, yeh[10] look tired,” Chase smiled as Jackie noticed something shooting towards them, but because of the coloration of the smoke he thought it a part of Dark’s aura.

At least until it hit Chase.

Something stabbed Chase right through the heart and the marksman knew he should be dead. But he felt something in his very soul snap. Dark flinched, his eyes widening in horror.

Chase knew should be dead, the human heart was a fragile organ, but as he was tossed to the side, he felt weak and was losing blood but his heart was too stubborn to stop beating and blood was still coming from somewhere. As his soul cracked in two before snapping back together, good as new.

“Hey, Dames,” Marc spat as he grabbed Dark and pulled him closer. “Let’s try this again.”

“How dare you? What did you do?” Dark spat at Marc as he looked at Chase in horror. He was only slightly calmed when he saw Chase starting to try and pick himself up, glaring murderously at Marc. But the Actor burst into smoke and ripped a portal open, dragging Dark with him.

When the portal snapped closed, it destroyed the bubble with it. Barely a second’s warning as it shattered and violently dropped all its inhabitants onto the floor.

The bubble the Actor disappeared into snagged the Sanders bubble and seemed to violently tear it in half as it pulled it inside.

Phil screamed in agony as his bad wing returned and reminded the avian demon that he’d been grounded for years now.

“Phil!” Techno rushed over to him in concern.

Chase looked around, becoming furious when he couldn’t see Dark. “Fooker! That fooker! I’m gonna kill him.”[21]

“Average stop movin’[22]!” Jackie yelled and raced over. “Henrik! Chase needs attention, now!”

“Let me go!” Chase snapped at Jackie who was looking at him like Chase had flesh hanging off his bones. “I’m fine.”

“Yeh[10] were stabbed in the fookin’[4] heart! Stop movin’[22]!” Jackie yelled and that made people stare at Chase and Henrik who was at a brisk walk was now suddenly racing over as fast as he could. Marvin followed suit.

“Average! Lay down now!” Henrik yelled, forcing the marksman to a halt.

While the chaos of trying to get medical care and everyone just tried to figure out what was going on, Techno took a look around as Phil seemed to regain his strength and stood up.

“You okay?” Techno looked around as Ranboo was starting to get frantic.

“Where’s Tubbo?” Ranboo asked, an acute sense of panic growing within him. He scooped Michael and Shroud into his arms.

“He was right next ta[5] me, did that fucker grab him?” Tommy yelled as he looked around, his eyes locking onto Quackity who was just staring at Ranboo. Or more importantly, at Michael and Shroud, who were both crying. The screams only made Tommy even more agitated.

“What do you mean he’s just gone!” Ranboo yeled.

“Okay, give ‘em[16] here,” Philza swept in and just scooped the two toddlers into his arms, his aura soothing them and they stopped crying.

Techno took out his axe and walked closer to the remaining bubble that hadn’t been consumed by the Actor’s. His other hand summoned something that looked like a fishing pole with a small hand-sized grappling hook on the end of it and reeled it back before aiming it at the bubble and dragging it closer to him.

“Hey, let’s think about this,” Quackity urged.

But Techno slammed his axe into the bubble the instant he could and it cracked before shattering. Antfrost, George, Skeppy, and Bad all dropped to the ground but Dream rolled into a kneeling position and looked around. He almost stabbed Techno but the warrior easily used his weapons to deflect the blow.

“Hey man, chill out for five seconds, okay?” Techno chuckled.

Dream got up and looked around. He helped pull George up to his feet.

“Thanks, Techno,” Dream told him.

“That clear the books?” Techno smiled.

“Fuck no,” Dream chuckled. “You did that on your own, I didn’t ask you to do anything.”

“Ehh, it was worth a shot,” Techno shrugged, a smile still on his face.

Skeppy looked up from where he’d been laying on the ground next to Bad and when he looked up at Ponk he surged up.

“Give it,” Skeppy took the tome from Ponk, and checked it over. His eyes began to glow blue as parts of his skin began to crystallize. Magic fluttered around him. “Thank you, Ponk.”

“I was doing my best,” Ponk told him, emphatically throwing their arms up. “Took you long enough.”

“I was a bit busy,” Skeppy shot back.

Chase, once Henrik deemed him impossibly still alive and despite the blood he wasn’t dying, he looked up at the final bubble. Illinois gave Eric a kiss before he walked over to Chase.

“Actor’s up there?” Illinois glared at it.

“Yeah,” Chase said. “Fooker’s[23] a demon so snappin’[24] his neck’s so isn’t a crime.”

“Not a punishable one, and he’d only come back to life in a week,” Illinois agreed.

“Hey, the two of you are not going alone,” Silver said, in the middle of orchestrating ways to get people home. Dream ordering most of the Server group back home. Silver and Jackie quickly agreed to go with Chase and Illinois.

Philza was staring at Shroud before smiling at him. “I’ll take these two back home.”

“Deal,” Ranboo said without thinking, racing over to Chase. “Is Bomble okay in there?”

“We don’t know, but we’ll get him back home, the Sides seem to be in there as well,” Silver told him.

“No, I’m coming with,” Ranboo insisted. “I can open up a portal right into the bubble.”

“Count me in too,” Tommy rushed over.

“Absolutely not,” Silver told him.

“Let me rephrase that,” Tommy told Silver in his usual loud volume. “I am goin’[25] in there. With or without yer[26] fuckin’[4] permission.”

Silver sighed in frustration. “You two don’t take chances, and if you see Bomble, you two need to bail immediately.”

“Deal,” Ranboo spoke over Tommy and his eyes turned purple as he opened up a portal right over the group and took them right into the bubble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. You’re

2. kind of

3. Take them to the holding room

4. fucking

5. to

6. doing

7. aren’t you

8. something

9. What’s that green bastard doing to you?

10. you

11. and

12. anything

13. killing

14. of

15. coming

16. them

17. out of

18. shit

19. Fuck

20. We’re going home. You’re okay. I’m taking you home and you can relax.

21. Fucker! That fucker! I’m going to kill him.

22. moving

23. Fucker’s

24. snapping

25. going

26. your

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tatyana-dreaming · 3 years

Text

Eugene Onegin: Finale Analysis

*apologies in advance for a LONG POST! any TYPOS! and also that the Russian has been latinized (is that what we say?)*

I have often read opinions and observations about the finale of Eugene Onegin along the lines of “there’s no new theme;” it’s “not as intense as the Letter scene;” it’s “anticlimactic...” etc. (those last two comments are found in Eugene Onegin: The Opera Lively Guide by Luiz Gazzola).

Clearly, these are just opinions and I’m not here to disprove anything... but I am here to retaliate with a whole lot of love for this particular 14 minutes of music so buckle up :) I’m going to try to mainly be objective here and just offer my observations/analysis. Maybe you’ll find some newfound appreciation along the way...and please pitch in if you have your own comments or have noticed things I haven’t necessarily picked up on!

Before we start, you may want to pull a recording of the finale (this one is my favorite of course), and potentially your favorite CD/recording of Eugene Onegin, if you want to listen along and compare. If I had more time and skills I would have done this for you in a video or added trimmed audio bits throughout this post but alas. Maybe one day! For now, enjoy these screencaps from the 2007 Carsen production at the Met with Fleming and Hvorostovsky.

1. Gazzola points this out in his book - and thank goodness, because I’m not sure I would have made the connection myself. The final scene opens with a motif that is more or less a repetition of Gremin’s theme (in rhythm, at the very least), “Lyubvi Vsye Rozrasti Pokorni/Love conquers all ages,’” foreshadowing Tatyana’s decision/steadfastness to the mature, stable love or contement, or whatever we want to call this - we can have an analysis of ‘love’ in Eugene Onegin in another post! Already I’m thinking back to the opening of the opera when Larina and Filipyevna sing in unison “Privichka svishe name dana, zamyena shchastiyu ona / Habit is sent us from above in place of happiness.” Tatyana’s mother used to read and dream like Tayana herself and was even in love, but eventually had to marry someone else and “became resigned and settled down.”

And as @lizlensky recently reminded me, of course Filipyevna did not get to marry for love either, not that Tatyana was really listening to her story. In fact, maybe I’m looking far into deeply, but it seems to me the strings underneath this “Gremin motif” at the opening of the finale and also when Tatyana eventually sings to that tune “Onegin, ya togda molozhe/Onegin, I was younger then” are also mimicking the strings underneath Filipyevna when she sings the morning after the Letter Scene, explaining how her mind is getting older and reflecting upon her youth (I’m generalizing a bit - Tatyana certainly isn’t complaining about having an old brain but she is thinking of the past). Make of that what you will! But it gave me chills.

2. Oh no, I’m already getting ahead of myself though. Before Onegin even comes on the scene, we also hear what some call the “Fate motif” but what I prefer to call the “Dream motif” (if it is fate, why does it follow Tatyana all over dreamy Act I but disappears except for this tiny reminiscence? But of course, up for discussion as it’s the prelude/introduction to the opera, and it comes back when Yevgeni does, haunting her like a ghost, which I suppose is fate-y). Here it is again when Tatyana sings “Kak budto snova dyevochkoi ya stala/It’s as if I’m a young girl again” - which is then followed by what I might personally call the fate theme, since it foreshadows the anguish Tatyana will face when she is rejected in Act I, and before she rejects Onegin in Act III.

This is where I wish I had an audio clip but I think you know what I mean; it’s the really dramatic climax that comes right when Tatyana enters the stage in Scene 3 of Act III (before “Zdyez on, zdyes on, Yevgeni!”) and right before Onegin comes onstage in Act III, Scene 2. Or ha, maybe this is just “Onegin’s Arrival Theme” since there’s a similar kind of orchestral panic before he arrives in Act I (though of course, not in Scene 1 of Act III since it is Tatyana who enters rather than Onegin who was in the room already, at least in the productions I’ve seen.)

3. Okay, so now Onegin’s here, what does he have to say for himself? We hear a bit of the Onegin aria theme - “Mechtam i godom nyet vazvrata, nye obnovlyu dushi moyei/Dreams and years cannot return, I cannot renew my soul!” as he (in some versions) falls to Tatyana’s feet, exclaiming “O, szhaltes, szhaltes nado mnoyu!/ Have mercy on me!” Clearly has some srs regerts. But also perhaps Tchaikovsky foreshadowing what is to come... not only that we shouldn’t expect Tatyana to act with any less honor (or prudence/reason) towards Onegin as he did towards her in Act I, and that indeed she sings “proshlogo nye vorotit/you cannot bring back the past.” I know I’m grinding a lot out of this particular moment, but... would you expect anything less from me? Or (thinks of Petya) HIM? :)

4. As Tatyana reminds Onegin how he rejected her and begins to question why he is suddenly in love with her now, we get to revisit some of the music from the Letter Scene - at least in the orchestra. Tatyana’s line differs slightly than her original melody in the Letter Scene when she sings “Togda, nye pravda li pustine, vdali ot suyetnoi molvi/There in that backwater, far from vain society” - and just so, as it is far from its dreamy, romantic parallel in her letter - “Y v eto samoye mgnovyenye ne ti li, miloye vidyenye/And in that very moment, wasn’t it you, beloved vision [...who whispered to me words of hope].” I find this throwback incredibly clever and gutwrenching, as I believe it’s clearly a bitter and ironic jab at the hope that Onegin crushed, even honorably as he did, and now the two of them have changed positions. Whose dreamy hopes (which are... questionable at best at the moment) are getting schooled now? Cmon’ Onegin, “learn to control yourself....”

5. Let me take a moment to admit and agree with many analyses/critics (although Tchaikovsky knows what he is doing, convince me otherwise) that Onegin is pretty fragmented and lacks a coherent theme, and certainly has no original “love theme” of his own to offer Tatyana - after all, Onegin as a character, especially in the book, is pretty hollow, someone who isn’t so much a “self’ as a person who knows how to go through the motions of life... He’s intelligent but not creative, full of potential but lacking any real direction. (Ohhh I am going to cry because that’s so sad but also so relatable, but crying is coming up next so I’ll hold off). The opposite of Lensky’s “poet spirit” that lives life romantically, and is in love with life itself, seeing the infinite everywhere rather than seeing life so pessmistically (with the mask of pragmatism/”maturity”) as Onegin does, a mask that keeps Onegin from truly engaging with life or his own sense of self.

So as Onegin sings, we hear that lack of originality, though I will pull a Valery Gergiev here and say one “cannot be impartial” to Onegin’s music here (*clutches chest - that’s Tchaikovsky, even though I think it’s clear Onegin is not his fav) - Onegin may not be original, but there is no less truth or heartfelt emotion in what comes through. Luckily, Tatyana knows that it’s still not a good choice... he’s still not very substantial, at best, and at worst truly is only infatuated with her because of her reputation. It would mean ruin for her either way so :( (read: Anna Karenina) (here are some sad Onegin pictures just for fun because it’s all been Tatyana mainly but also: sorry this is Tatyana’s big moment so)

6. Time for tears! Do you hear a familiar theme when Tatyana sings “Ya plachu/I’m weeping?” It’s Lensky’s aria theme making a comeback- what!??! And particularly, the same melody as these two phrases, when Lensky sings: “Shto dyen gradushchi mnye gotovit/What does this day hold for me?” and perhaps more salient to this moment: “Pridyosh li, dveya krasoti, slezu prolit nad rannei urmoi/ Will you come, maiden, to shed a tear over my untimely urn?” Ahhh, I see what you did there, Petya.

But wait, Onegin hates crying! This isn’t explicitly in the opera of course, but Onegin in the novel all but tells Tatyana that her tears (as he rejects her) only vex him - another reason marriage would be a torment for them (not a bad reason and look, we always respected his honesty, right?). But now? I think it’s a crucial moment; it shows there has indeed been some development on Onegin’s part and uh oh, he’s actually in love (ironically in a very Lensky - that is, poetic - way) even if it’s not for the best of reasons.

7. Fun (pain) pact: “Tak blizhko! [happiness was] so close!” is the only time Onegin and Tatyana sing together or are on the same page, so to say. Nice. (*cries*) The only other times people sing completely lined up together like this in this opera, choruses aside, are when:

Larina and Filipyevna sing “Privichka svishe name dana, zamyena shchastiyu ona /Habit is sent to us from above in place of happiness” in the opening scene

Onegin and Lensky sing “Nye zasmeyatsa l nam, poka ne obagrilasa ruka, ne razoitis li polyubovno? Nyet... /Shouldn’t we burst out laughing, rather than staining our hands with blood, shouldn’t we part as friends? No...” before the duel

Moments of truth. And mostly pain. :) Again, please chime in if there are others, I’m sure I’ve missed something.

8. Time for Tatyana to refuse! This is where I completely disagree that there is “no new major theme” in the Finale; Tatyana’s “rejection theme” holds its own in my books. Interestingly, it’s in D-flat major, just like the main themes in her Letter Scene (”Puskai pogibnu ya/Let me perish,” and “Kto ti? Moi angel/ Who are you? my [guardian] angel..” aka the descending/Russian 6th theme). Tatyana is just as earnest/decided/resigned* (yes, all three of those adjectives) in her decision in the finale as in the Letter Scene, so maybe that has something to do with it. (I always remember her words in the Letter scene: “Uvi, nye v silakh ya vladyet svoyei dushoi!/Alas, I am unable to subdue my soul!” but just like Onegin learning to be endeared by tears - she has indeed learned to subdue her soul, or perhaps she has simply matured and her priorities have changed. (And of course, who lectured her to subdue her soul in the first place, even though he meant well? Yours truly!)

*resigned might seem an interesting way to describe the Letter Scene, but don’t forget “No, tak i bit! Sudbo moyu otnine ya tebye vruchayu/So be it. Henceforth my fate belongs to you....” I tend to interpret that as Tatyana actually taking her fate into her own hands and deciding to go all in with her decision, despite the words that seem to make her position passive. In the finale, she is ‘resigned’ in a similarly active manner - this is not a passive resignation. But I still would use the term resigned, if only to draw the parallel between Tatyana and her mother.... “I became resigned and settled down.” And so she has, even if she has to struggle to push Onegin away from the settled life she has, loving him all the same.

And in comes some of my favorite music of all time - Onegin’s desperate, even malicious pleas and a good dose of mansplaining how Tatyana “can’t” abandon him, quoting back her letter. Extra ouch, because do you remember in Tatyana’s letter when she tells Onegin if he has any pity, “vi nye ostavite menya/you won’t abandon me.” And what does she have to beg him to do over and over until she finally runs offstage? “Ostav menya!/Leave me!” heheheheh *laugh-cries* everything is fine.

9. And we’ve nearly reached the very end. Almost a year into listening to this particular piece of music and I only recently realized what was going on - yeah, I know. When things get really heated at the end and pain reaches a maximum, Tatyana sings “Gluboko v syerdsta pronikayet, yevo otchayanni priziv no, pil prestupni podaviv/His anguished cries penetrate my heart, but the fire of passion has been extinguished” (well, I’m still not quite sure on the ‘correct’ English translation but it doesn’t sound good for Yevgeni regardless...)

That melody in that last line calls us back to its twin sister at the end of Scene 1 in Act I when Onegin is talking about how bored he was with his uncle, waiting for him to die. So a) I hear this as Tatyana “ending things once and for all” (parallels between the death of Onegin’s uncle, and the death of their relationship), as well as possibly (again I read 10,000% too much into things) b) Tatyana realizing that Onegin’s words to her back in the garden were true - habit [routine] would kill their love; they would become bored (or at least he would). The passion would burn out.

Which brings us back to c) heaven sends us habit in place of happiness [=passion?]- which, OH, RIGHT, OF COURSE has the same rhythm of the aforementioned “boredom” theme and “the fire of passion has been extinguished.” But you all probably already realized that because oF COURSE.. that’s how the opera OPENS... and now how it is CLOSING... AHHHH!!!

I know I’m not original or anything for realizing that parallel, but yeah. I’m pretty happy about it.

Tchaikovsky is absolutely genius. Unbelievable. And paired with Pushkin? I’m not surprised I’ve clearly lost my mind over this masterpiece.

Anyways, this was an extremely long post but I hope you enjoyed it immensely, especially if you read this far!! Please chime in with your own comments! I LOVE THIS PIECE OF MUSIC!

#wow people are gonna hate me if they track any of these tags :) at least you can push the 'this post isn't for me' button #long post #eugene onegin #tchaikovsky #opera #that was 2000 words everyone thanks for reading and no offense if you didn't #writing tag i suppose #myedits: stills

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ruined-my-dramatic-entrance · 3 years

Text

Hat’s Off to You

Platonic fluff, a bit silly or OOC but not a crackfic lol, 1659 words TW: S!Janus

“What’s going on here?” Patton asked as he popped up.

After rolling his eyes and a moment of hesitation, Virgil replied, “Princey brought up some dumb idea about Janus having some weird secret hidden under his hat and now he and Logan are debating it.”

“Well, what’s all hat about?” the moral side inquired further with a grin.

Though Patton had expected Virgil to at least smirk at this, the latter instead protested, “Please, just get them to stop for now or something…”

“Okay, kiddo. Sorry about Pat — uh, I mean that,” Patton corrected himself quickly before turning his attention to the other two.

“I still think it’s probably something weird and evil, like some devil’s horns or — or pointed ears,” Roman insisted, gesturing to the vague areas that those body parts would be placed on himself.

“If Janus were to be hiding something underneath his hat — which I still have very significant doubts about — then it would probably be a result of his half-snake composition, such as a lack of hair on that side of his head, covered by scales,” Logan chimed in with an even tone.

“Well, yeah, maybe, but it still could be something… much more sinister that reveals how Thomas truly visualizes Deceit in his mind,” the prince suggested with a deep curiosity.

“Wouldn’t that be you, Roman?” Patton asked with an innocent smile.

“Wha—? No, I’m not a liar! I’m an actor but I am not Deceit,” Roman dismissed, clearly offended.

“No, that’s not what I meant, and I was talking about Janus, not evil,” Patton said, subtly reminding Roman to be kinder about the side in question. “I meant that the way Thomas views Deceit as a concept would be your creativity, kiddo,” he explained.

Roman paused for a moment. “I… suppose you’re right,” he agreed.

“That would make sense, though it would still have the influence of how Thomas feels about the concept of Deceit in genera—” Logan tried to elaborate, but was cut off by Roman.

“By Artemis’s beautiful bow, I think I know!” the creative side exclaimed with a wide gesture.

“You’ve… decided on a guess?” Logan prompted, frowning slightly in curiosity and pushing his glasses backwards as he scanned Roman with his eyes.

“Oh, brother, what is it now?” Virgil groaned, pulling his hood up over his head.

“That’s the spirit! What do you think, Roman?” Patton encouraged excitedly.

“Wolf ears,” Roman answered simply, as if the answer was obvious.

“Uh… might’ve misheard you there, Kiddo,” Patton fretted, leaning in a bit closer in hopes of understanding Roman’s words better.

“That… is an interesting guess. I suppose I could see some reasoning for this,” Logan mused, placing his knuckle against his lips in thought.

“Please tell me you’re not actually considering this, dude,” Virgil pleaded, pulling his sleeves over his hands.

“No, no, I’m serious!” Roman persisted, holding out his hands in a “wait” gesture. “From my best understanding of how Thomas views deception, he gets consistently stuck on the phrase ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’ and sometimes he imagines liars as having certain wolf traits,” he finally explained. “Though, he usually only does that past 3am,” he added with a slight shrug before looking towards the rest of the group for approval.

“In addition to that, Janus does seem to... work alone, if you will, with his varying goals for Thomas — a lone wolf, perhaps,” Logan elaborated, “Wolves are also regarded for their intelligence and have very complicated social dynamics, maybe tying into Janus’s ability to use charisma to his advantage. Symbolically, wolves are also regarded as confident, which he definitely exhibits.”

“Come on, you don’t actually think Janus would have something as… as stupid as that,” Virgil disagreed, rubbing the back of his neck. Logan narrowed his eyes at the way he stumbled over his words.

“Virgil, I expected you to be less… concerned about this matter — furthermore, to mock him for it,” the logical side deduced, tilting his head slightly in confusion. “So… either you’re embarrassed about something similar or something is wrong here,” he declared, causing the room to fall silent for a few seconds.

“What’s wrong with Virge, Logan? Don’t just leave it all… ominous like that! It’s scary,” Patton fretted, looking at the side in question with worry.

At that moment, Virgil showed up, shoving aside the “Virgil” that had been there before, who was pushed into the wall and reverted back into his true form.

“Did someone say ‘scary?’” Virgil asked nonchalantly, giving Patton a quick glance before returning to glaring at Janus.

“Deceit!!” Logan yelled, pointing at Janus.

“Yes, yes, we’ve noticed, Logan, no need to sound the alarm, especially not so loudly,” Janus remarked.

“Virgil!” Patton and Roman exclaimed in unison with smiles.

“What was he doing here? What did he say?” Virgil asked, voice serious and impatient.

“Nothing much! Since I got here, he was just denying some of Roman and Logan’s theories about what’s under his hat,” Patton recounted.

“Yes, padre is right; that’s all the snake has done, nothing particularly evil or sinister,” Roman confirmed with a slight nod as if his valiant watch had kept Janus in check, whereas in reality he hadn’t really noticed.

Virgil snickered. “You mean ‘cause he’s insecure about this?” he asked with a mischievous smile as he managed to snatch Janus’s hat, revealing a pair of… dark wolf ears.

“Hah! I knew it! I called it! That was me, I was right. Got it before Logan,” Roman announced proudly before clearing his throat awkwardly and growing quiet to listen.

“Only because it was your interpretation of symbolism,” Logan muttered under his breath, petty.

“Aww, you’re like a teddy bear!” Patton commented with a gasp, “Or a puppy! Why would you hide this? We wouldn’t make fun of you for something so cute and nonthreatening!” He paused suddenly, realizing that he had just spoken the exact reason. “Ohh…” He grimaced slightly in guilt.

“Yes, well, isn’t this lovely. This is exactly what I wanted, Virgil, thank you,” Janus complained in annoyance, shooting the man in question a pointed look. “It’s obvious that this is totally a part of myself that I like and wanted to share with the group.”

“Janus, we won’t make fun of you for it, especially if you’re so insecure about it,” Patton reassured, looking around the room for agreement and receiving nods from everyone… as well as muffled snickers from Roman and Virgil.

“Grandma, what big ears you have,” Roman murmured quietly under his breath, unable to resist the temptation.

“What does it matter anyway? It’s clear I’m viewed as but a beast or a — a monstrous creature. Why would words make that any different?” Janus retorted to Patton, both his eyes and his phrasing giving away his hidden sadness.

“Well, Janus, you of all sides should understand the power that words can hold,” Logan reminded tersely.

“Regardless, Thomas could have at least chosen something scarier rather than just… an amalgamation of different animal symbols out of confusion,” Janus griped, gesturing into the air in frustration.

“Weird is better than scary if it’s constant. Trust me on this one,” Virgil insisted, though his expression turned to one of slight… sympathy?

“Trust isn’t exactly my strong suit,” Deceit responded, casting an unpleasant glance across the rest of the room. “I wonder why?” he added sarcastically.

“It’s not my department either but…” Virgil trailed off, sighing. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this to you of all people,” he muttered. “But… I know what it’s like to feel different and unnecessary and — and like you’re built to just be weird, to just be the outcast,” he admitted, avoiding looking into the half-snake’s eyes. “I know what it’s like but… it’s not like that here, not with them. Not with us,” he assured, fiddling with his sleeves.

“I think we all owe Janus an apology,” Patton pointed out. “I’m sorry for not respecting your privacy,” he said, looking at the aforementioned man with empathy.

“I apologize for my earlier behavior. I was curious but not considerate,” Logan chimed in concisely.

“I… suppose I’m sorry too,” Roman agreed, though he opened his mouth to say something else and closed it a moment later.

“I guess I shouldn’t have… done that,” Virgil mumbled, handing Janus his hat back. “But you shouldn’t have impersonated me either.”

“Very well, very well… I’m sorry for taking your place and deceiving you,” Janus replied, “though it did take them quite a while to catch on…”

“It is indeed odd that Janus’s impersonation of you is much more accurate than of me or Patton,” Logan commented, frowning again in contemplation.

“And that Virgil already knew about Janus’s ears,” Roman added, looking at Virgil in confusion.

“Well, I —” Virgil began nervously.

“— The little brat has done this before, you see,” Janus excused as he interrupted the anxious side. “It was terribly irritating,” he recalled about the false event, examining his nails through his gloves. “And yes, I’m afraid that the emo is the simplest to mimic -- it’s dreadfully easy,” he mocked, though said emo looked up at him when he realized that Janus had just… covered for him and his past as a dark side. That was not anywhere near what Virgil had expected.

“Ah, that would make sense,” Logan accepted with a slight nod.

“I, for one, still can’t decide whether his fluffy little ears are scary or, uh, adorable,” Roman admitted.

Janus scoffed and examined his nails through his glove. “If you’re disturbed by this, wait until you find out what Remus hides under his mustache,” he pointed out.

After a beat of silence, every other side in the room turned to him in a mixture of surprise, fear, and disgust, all exclaiming some variation of “hold up,” “wait,” or “what?!” Except for Patton, who simply remarked, “Well, I suppose we must-ask him later” with a chuckle.

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