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malleleothreesome · 3 months

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Fellow Honest Drunken Confession Feat. Playful Land Cast

(Ch.1 & Ch.2)

🌟 summary: Rewriting the end of Playful Land event where instead of Fellow Honest running away, he tries to convince you and your classmates to go out drinking with him. Cause he's super into you. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: gender neutral reader, SFW so far (undecided on the end), fluff, romance. This is a slice of life comedy. You're just gonna have to go into it blind. Take my word for it. You're gonna love it. If you don't, don't tell me. All characters assumed to be of legal drinking age besides Gidel. ༶༶༶ 🌟 inspired by: this ask from @omo-kitty thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

🌟 song: Trust Fund "Oh, where, oh, where is my trust fund? Why can't I get ahead? 'Cause I have to work My daddy's such a jerk For not givin' me all his cash" ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 4.7k

Fellow Honest lets out an exasperated sigh, perched next to you and your classmates as the massive cruise ship that housed Playfulland amusement park sinks into the ocean’s abyss. With his hands clasped behind his head, a carefree grin lights up his face.

"You know what?" He asks, turning to you.

His fox ears twitch atop his head as a salty breeze sifts through his orange hair. Night was encroaching, a half moon suspended in the starry sky, pale and glowing. You stare back into his face, noting the visible points of his fangs, and the tip of his curly orange tail swishing happily.

Fellow winks as he laughs his signature haughty cackle. "Do you want to grab a drink sometime?"

Ace Trappola perks up at the mention of alcohol and barrels forward, face beaming with naivety. "Hey, free drinks? You're talking to the right person, Man. You gonna let us drink free? I mean, it's like, the least you could do for trying to traffic us, am I right?"

Trey Clover hisses, “Ace!!!” in a desperate (and failed) attempt to shut him up.

Fellow regards the spectacle with the blankest of stares, his ear flicking as a whisper of a wince flickers across his visage.

The monster of a man tilts his head and smiles slyly to you—and only you.

His eyes sweep you up and down as he croons, "just you and me, Hot Stuff. We're talking romantic, steamy even. We’re connected… don't deny it. Whaddaya say?"

Fellow steps closer, tongue running along his canines as he looks you up and down with a cheeky grin and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "You, me, alone, drinking, talking... I'll be real good to you—I'm an honest guy! All my business is legit now!"

He throws his head back, and with a flourish of his arms, roars with a particularly raucous laughter. Upon composing himself, his piercing orange eyes turn sharp, and he flashes you another lecherous look. A smirk plays on the corner of his lips, an eyebrow rises suggestively. Fellow leans to whisper in your ear, lingering in the electricity of your aura a bit too long before speaking. You shiver.

His voice drops to a low, suggestive purr as hot breath grazes your neck, "but, if you like, a little bit naughty ain't out of the question... "

Before you can respond, Ace—unable to be subdued by Trey—makes his way back over and elbows you in the arm. As clueless as ever, his freckled cheeks flush bright pink from excitement.

"Free drinks, Bro! He's an underworld mobster, Dude—a high ranking one—we'll be VIPs anywhere we go. We’ll be sipping absolute top shelf… not that gross, warm piss from a barrel everyone else gets!"

Ace is giving the performance of his lifetime, gripping his heart and holding out his arms in utter theatrics, then leaning heavily on your shoulder.

"Free… top shelf… liquor!" Ace shouts to the rest of your classmates, waving them over.

Fellow's eyebrow elevates further, threatening to leave the confines of his forehead. His eyes remain dead, cold. His tail, for once, stays perfectly still, frozen in an upright arch. When his lips part in a rigid smile and his shoulders begin to shake, a venomous displeasure radiates from him, palpable enough for you to feel on your own skin. Out of his mouth spills a jumble of fragmented curse words and giggles. You look at him in mild alarm, unsure if he has finally reached a state of losing his goddamn mind, or if he's about to commit a violent murder—starting with Ace.

Fellow holds up both gloved palms, covering his face. Slowly shaking his head, he doubles over, wiping away tears of hysteria in an uproarious guffaw. You are stunned, staring as Fellow wheezes and struggles to get ahold of his faculties.

Catching his breath, he throws back his head and bellows with unrestrained joy, "The sheer audacity! The unmitigated gumption of this fool—oh my GOD.”

In a valiant effort to calm himself, he holds up his hands, as if praying, a wicked grin plastered across his face. Ace squints suspiciously at his antics, still totally clueless to Fellow's intent. Trey shakes his head slowly, rubbing his face in abject defeat, looking as if he's willing his brain to purge the trauma of ever coming to this place.

Fellow breathes deeply. "Sorry, sorry, it's just funny, oh my God. Wow. He has some balls on him, I'll give him that! I really admire the gall. You know what? This brat might have a career in the biz." The fox beastman reaches out and condescendingly ruffles Ace's head of red hair.

"Alright, tough guy. Yeah, let's go get boozed. And hey, little Bastard—" his fiendish grin takes a more sinister tone, fangs slightly exposed. "Just so you know, if your pathetic college didn't send that sweetheart…” He winks suggestively at you, before his eyes wander across the crowd of students, utterly unimpressed, “I'd never be letting any of you idiots go. No way! I’d have dragged each of you back to my boss by force. Don't test my generosity or my kindness."

Smirking, he shoves his finger into Ace's face, leaning towards him with intent to intimidate.

Fellow takes a sharp inhale and clasps his hands shut. "Now, just for fun, let's get liquored up on the highest rooftop bar, play some poker, do a little dancing..." His eyes flit back over to you— "...maybe some smooches, hey?" A foxy yip punctuates his sentence. His eyes return back to Ace, whose lips are pressed in a firm, disapproving line. Fellow's eyebrow twitches with delight as he takes in Ace's defiance, biting his lip for a second so as not to cackle.

"There isn't going to be any 'VIP treatment,' 'free drinks,’ or 'top shelf.' Is that clear? Who do you think I am? You think I like doing that type of shit?"

He points to the water, gesturing to the decimated remnants of the amusement park. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Kid, people don't do those types of jobs because they're loaded.”

He leans down to get eye level with Ace, using expressive jazz hands and a pompous voice. “'Oh, man, my yacht's all paid off and ready, better become a goddamn kidnapping organ trafficker—oh, the glamor! The luxury!' Do you understand what I'm saying, you dinky little shit?"

You can't help it—you burst out laughing. His grin returns full force, and he winks at you knowingly. He looks back to your classmates, and you consider his movements. The pure self-assurance in his stride, his careless and brazen attitude, his cheeky cockiness—intricate pieces of exactly what drew you to him initially. While his irreverence for any societal construct has both scared and enamored you, the sheer madness he exhibits on a regular basis is so addictive. How could you deny a guy with this level of audacity? You really, really want to give it a whirl—experiment with what might be if you throw caution to the wind.

His smile grows, noting the chagrin across your classmate's faces. Fellow gestures dramatically once more, his gloved hands clawing through the air, his gesticulations growing increasingly overzealous as he waxes poetic on the harsh realities of adult life.

"So, listen up. Listen very carefully. Picture this: I'm poor. I'm scrappy. I was homeless. I don't even own the suit you're seeing right now! My clothes are stolen off the street." His expression darkens, ears and tail drooping, shoulders slumped, and head lowered. For a fleeting, transitory instant, there's an indiscernible emotion that flickers through his eyes—something genuine that betrays his frivolity. "That boy is the only family I have, and we've got nothing to our name."

He stares forward at something only he can see, his gaze boring a hole into the horizon. It is a wistful, haunted gaze, a longing and lost memory in his eyes, a sad sigh that drifts on a gentle summer breeze, lost within its dreams. "Not a single thing. Just the two of us, struggling and barely making ends meet, scraping by in this horrible, unforgiving, greedy world that cares not for the innocent and goodhearted folk. We need to be greedy. Selfish, if we want to keep each other safe. So, excuse me for being just a tad on the offensive side, you entitled fucking brats! I had to be the strongest so I could support the both of us. You truly know nothing about suffering—this isn't a pretty life to have and it isn't fair, yet, what can you do? Adapt, or die. There is no romanticism about hunger, about living like animals, constantly scrambling for scraps of food like the world is a bottomless garbage can and you are its filthiest dog." The sardonic chuckle he gives isn't unkind, merely tinged with bittersweet longing. You reach a hand out, resting it on his shoulder, and his fingers close over it with a soft caress.

There's a touch of vulnerability in his eyes, and his words strike a cord that resonates deeply within your soul. Though it hurts and grieves you, his explanation was enough for you—a starting point of understanding, as you accept him exactly for who he is. You see beyond the facade—the sheer intensity of the desperation that underlines his words and actions, that hollowness within him that yearns for more than the world can provide.

Fellow seemed to awaken with greater purpose when you looked into his soul and told him he didn't have to do bad things. Something shifts in his eyes as he considers new paths. You see the stitches holding his tattered spirit together loosen slightly, revealing glimpses of his raw wounds, the aches and scars that he buries with sarcasm and callousness. His vibrant, intelligent, playful nature deserves more—his life isn't meant to be wasted, yet he feels as if that's precisely what he has done, resigning himself to this existence of bitter hatred against the world. When you meet his gaze, you feel a tenderness blooming in the chilly winter frost of his chest, like the first glimpse of spring. At last, you can sense the farce crumble, and the real Fellow taking shape underneath. You wish you could spend the rest of the evening talking to him.

Fellow's fingers remain intertwined with yours as the moment passes and his flirtation returns. There is an uncanny ease with which the man is able to keep his expression blank while swapping personalities, as if each identity is a costume he wears as long as it suits him. A fleeting look of sadness drifts over him before being replaced by his cheeky, foxy smirk. He reasserts the cocky, irreverent demeanor—his favorite cloak. His orange eyes flit towards yours before gazing into the crowd of your classmates. You squeeze his palm reassuringly, and he beams down at you with gratitude. His finger swipes across your cheek, gently brushing it.

Fellow smiles his carefree smile, but there's a warmth and gentleness behind his orange gaze now.

"All that being said,'' the beastman claps his hands together, grinning widely and putting on another showman's performance, "I bet I could do a little persuading to get us some free booze. We're going drinking, my new friends!" He throws his hands up jovially.

A chorus of voices in front of him ring out in dissonance at the thought, except for Ace—who is whooping and hollering triumphantly, and Kalim, who is cheering in earnest. Before the rest of your classmates have time to voice their objections, Fellow shouts out, pointing at everyone, a finger dramatically extending in the air.

"Ah, ah ah—none of your whining and sniveling bullshit, you snot-nosed punklings. We're all getting our rocks off tonight and it's on me. Consider this the apology tour for almost making you all... well, go into involuntary servitude, to put it lightly."

The corner of his lips twitch as his orange eyes scan the crowd for recognition, yet remain friendly despite his teasing.

"Besides, a celebration is due! What I learned tonight was so startling to me—I did not foresee myself going down an honest path, a career in helping the helpless. This is truly life-altering, and it's all thanks to you folks."

Another moment of vulnerability flickers in his eyes and his mouth is slack, letting the raw honesty and realization of change settle. A stunned silence from the crowd ensues.

Flailing his arms wildly to keep up and air of lightheartedness, Fellow huffs, the first signs of exertion finally showing. He was beaten up pretty badly while trying to detain your classmates, after all. He continues his pitch.

"Of course, no hard feelings or anything. Just a nice fun night, free drinks, music, laughter—how could any of you possibly turn down such a gift?"

With a grin and a gesture to the amusement park's busted entrance gate, he declares his final verdict.

"It is your final day off before a lifetime of school, study, stress and commitment to society—your youth is ending, friends. Embrace this wonderful last sunset of freedom—because by tomorrow, we will all be under the yoke of labor, spending our lives slaving away to pay rent while we deal with taxes and the true horror of capitalism! At least, those without trust funds, right? Hah."

Once more, your classmates all clamor with protests.

"Like Hell I’m goin’ out drinking with that guy! Don't take orders from that shady jackass," Leona roars through the crowd.

Fellow’s scowls, tail swishing vehemently back and forth.

"Ya just met him yesterday and he was about to sell us all off! Does a sociopath's Nice Guy act not make you the least bit suspicious or even nervous? Don't fall for it. No one's that forgivin' or stupid." Leona stares coldly at the conman with an indignant sniff as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Vil stands with his arms crossed as well, but his posture and expression exude boredom as he blows out an annoyed exhale, visibly judging his idiot classmates. "Unfortunately, I have to agree with Leona once again," he chimes in, ignoring the aggravated huff from the Savanaclaw dorm leader. "Our kidnapper is insistent on buying us drinks? Who does that?! Clearly, this guy has something up his sleeve." Vil clicks his tongue derisively, and flicks his purple hair over his shoulder in dismission.

Floyd, ignoring the forewarnings entirely, throws his arms up happily. He bellows, "hell yeah! What's better than a night of heavy partying to lighten up the mood, right? Bring it on. There's alcohol involved? It’s free? I’m in." He giggles maniacally, wrapping an arm around Fellow to pull him in for an enthusiastic noogie (and completely ignoring the pained squeaks coming out of the conman's mouth). Floyd’s twin brother, Jade, grins in agreement to the proposal.

Trey adjusts his glasses nervously, brows knitting and mouth stuck in a grimace. He opens mouth and closes his mouth a few times before suggesting, with trepidation, “it is... quite unusual for him to take us out drinking all of a sudden... are we sure this isn't some sort of trap, or a game, or—"

Trey is cut off by a loud groan from Ace. "Weren't you guys paying attention?!" Ace shakes his head rapidly and scoffs with derision. "He's obviously trying to get into Y/n's pants! The guy's totally thirsty! How are you not seeing this? He was checking Y/n out when he was doing all that crazy shit in the amusement park."

A tense moment of silence falls across your class as they turn their heads towards you, eyeing you with surprise. "He's been hitting on the prefect this entire time! His weird-ass obsession is for real—no joke or scam. He's interested, I know it when I see it. He knows Y/n's not gonna go unless he takes all of us. So, like... yes, of course I'm into free beer!"

Ace's red eyes gleam like he's just discovered the polio vaccine, proud of his insightfulness and intellect. The other students look back and forth between you and the notorious criminal fox beastman, noting his nonplussed smirk, calm tail wagging, and the way in which his ears prick up in excitement at the conversation about you.

Another uncomfortable moment passes. Your cheeks feel warm, knowing everyone's eyes are still on you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet them.

Kalim claps his hands together and chirps, "oh yeah, come to think of it, he does seem like he's super fond of you! All his cute talk and that sparkle he gets in his eyes when he looks at you and listens to your every word—he clearly really, really likes you, Y/n! That's totally awesome you found someone special in such a dark place!"

Kalim is—almost comically—unaffected by Fellow's unsavory reputation. "And isn't it great if he's truly starting down a righteous path instead of being a bad criminal who hurts and steals from people? We've got to support him, this could be his fresh start! We're his friends, and that's what friends are for—they help each other out. We'll save him from evil!"

Kalim is positively beaming now, his energy infectiously reassuring and radiant. "I’m looking forward to a fun night, count me in!"

Leona scrunches up his face and screws his eyes shut before looking into the distance. It’s as if his consciousness has departed, from the sheer idiocy of this conversation.

“How much has that fuckin' clown got you brainwashed already to make you spout such delusions of grandeur?!" He gapes at Kalim's relentless positivity. "C'mon Jack, we're goin' back. They can handle themselves." Without a backward glance, he walks away, trusting that the freshman will follow suit.

With a short sigh of resignation and a brief incline of his head, Jack follows along in his dorm leader's wake. "Sorry, guys," he murmurs. "I gotta agree with my Housewarden. Something doesn't feel right. Hope to see you all later." The wolf man turns his back and trots to catch up with Leona.

Fellow wears an indecipherable expression as he watches them leave. The muscles around his eye twitch slightly and an ear has flattened against his hair in annoyance. Though Fellow is doing his level best to remain unaffected by the sour reactions, a tiny tendril of disappointment wavers briefly over his features. His resolve steels, yet he keeps his smile, resolutely ignoring their mutterings as his fox tail sweeps side to side. His body language remains relatively casual and open, save for a subtle defensive set in his posture and shoulders. He stands a little taller in an attempt to maintain his cool.

Vil scoffs and walks over to the gate, holding up his perfectly manicured hands in mock surrender. "There's no amount of liquor on the planet worth suffering his disgusting presence or getting tangled in whatever diabolic schemes he's attempting. He's a repugnant vagabond with nothing but deceit and manipulation oozing from his vile, malicious tongue. Y/n, you can do far better—really, anyone with a proper background and education instead of someone from the fringes of society who can't even feed himself."

With a flip of his hair, Vil sniffs dismissively. He gives you one last look of disapproval before strolling away in search of a less irritating place to be.

Ace begins to panic, feeling his chance at free drinks slipping through his fingers. "Wai- Wait- wait, WAIT—everybody STOP," Ace frantically exclaims in desperation. "Come back, you can't just leave! Come on! There’s free alcohol at stake here! Please?! Dammit. UGH!"

Vil's words seemed to hit home. Fellow's unbreakable poker face crumbles as his ears pull down flat against his scalp. His tail stiffens, lowering between his legs in utter humiliation. The fox beastman swallows thickly as the tides of his happiness drain. Gidel scurries up to Fellow and places a hand gently on his back to console his guardian. Fellow tries to plaster a makeshift grin back on, but his pain bleeds through, brow furrowed and eyes darting, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

Ace blinks and smiles awkwardly before muttering, "Well, now I actually feel pretty bad." His freckled face reddens slightly, cheeks taking on a darker tinge of rose as the color creeps out to his ears. A soft, self-conscious laugh tumbles from his mouth. He runs a hand through his copper-red hair, clearly caught somewhere between guilt and shame—internal conflict is evident.

Despite all the flippant, disrespectful comments, teasing and general disregard Ace has shown Fellow, this complete and public emotional breakdown appears to hit Ace harder than he'd care to admit, and perhaps—just maybe—a faint sense of kinship forms at the connection he sees between himself and the conman. Two jovial and clownish individuals—born entertainers. Suddenly, this moment strikes Ace more so than anything else Fellow has said or done thus far, leaving the redhead oddly touched. It’s as if his own heart was personally struck by the kind, selfless soul Fellow seems to be deep down, no matter how hard the foxman tries to keep it buried.

"Listen, man," Ace smiles shyly, shifting from foot to foot with his thumbs stuck in his belt loops. "You know, even if nobody else says it, I, uh... Well... If you're going straight," Ace chuckles, clearing his throat, "like you say, then you're pretty cool. Besides, all your antics are pretty funny. And... The way you really care for him..." Ace stares with admiration, nodding his head towards Gidel, voice low with reverence. His cheeks are completely red now, unable to formulate words, just awkwardly shuffling around trying to escape his own embarrassment.

"You're a... a really good big brother. You know," He sputters, blinking and glancing to the side before slowly looking back at Fellow, and then you. "So... Just forget about Vil's stupid bullshit and move on. Because..." He pauses for a second before nodding assuredly, his confidence growing. "Because you've got plenty to give! It might not feel like it, and sometimes there will be a moment where all seems lost..."

You shake your head in disbelief. Had Ace just openly spoken words of wisdom? Such kind words, too—from him of all people! That, surely, is the sign of an actual miracle happening, since Ace, your dearest friend, is not typically one for… sincerity. ‘Shocking’ would be an understatement. Ace's friendly gaze causes Fellow's orange eyes to grow glassy. Your classmates, equally as stunned, stare at Ace in open astonishment.

Ace presses on with his impromptu speech, conveying the utmost sincerity, "You've got to be strong and push past your misfortune, and not allow yourself to think you're not worthy of love or care." His smile grows warmer and he turns his face to you, making brief eye contact before casting his gaze back towards Fellow. "I just know that somewhere out there, a happy life awaits you... and maybe... there's someone wonderful to share it with."

Now why would Ace allude to you when you haven't even decided your feelings yet? You quickly turn around to conceal the rising flush in your cheeks. You’re somewhere between mortified and thrilled for Ace to publicly express his support of your romance. Nerves flood your stomach—the anticipation, the prospect of falling in love has made you equal parts anxious and giddy. A mixture of euphoria and despair hits you all at once—how beautiful to acknowledge your affections for the fox man—yet, can you commit?

You look over at Cater and mouth with abject horror: 'What the fuck is going on?'

Cater looks thoroughly entertained by the entire event, flashing you a thumbs up. He bites his lower lip, silently giggling to himself. He snaps a picture of you on his phone—the audacity.

Cater mouths back, “looks like someone has a cru-ush.”

Your face displays all of your confusion. “Stop—shh—be serious, this is real,” you whisper, stifling a tiny, strained giggle and putting an end to the banter by sternly holding out your index finger.

This is too much—too fast—you feel helpless, swept up in the stormy waves of fate and romance. One single day has dragged on and on, as if stretched forever by the overwhelming events of your trip. Even Fellow's unexpected change of heart is but a fleeting part of some fever dream—it couldn’t have all been real. An insane whirlwind romance, a kidnapping, a deadly amusement park, and a desperate con artist—who you’ve become increasingly drawn to. This has been one of the strangest experiences of your entire life.

Glancing quickly over your shoulder, you catch Gidel grinning and bouncing happily, his eyes bright with energy, seemingly thrilled at the idea of you and Fellow becoming partners. His excitement is contagious, and it only adds fuel to the fire in your heart. To know the little boy holds high hopes for the two of you—maybe something is already blooming? Blood pounds in your veins and a tightness builds in your chest, causing your heartbeat to drum ever faster as Fellow takes a step toward you.

He gently turns you to face him. His grip is strong, yet soft. A twinge of hope tugs at the corners of his lips, though his posture betrays his vulnerability and fear of rejection. His interest in you is palpable, and the seriousness of the impending moment makes you want to run away. As hesitant as you are to admit it, you definitely feel a connection to this man—one beyond lust. A deeper bond transcends physical attraction, as if your hearts are bound, stitched with a million red puppet strings of fate. With each pump of blood, another thread pulls taut, drawing the two of you closer together.

You're nervous, embarrassed, and entirely unsure of what you want. In an attempt to stall, you address your remaining classmates. "Well, I sure could use a drink right now! How about it?" Slight panic italicizes your statement.

Ace raises his hands in the air with triumph. "Fuck yeah," he laughs, looking around eagerly. Cater looks relieved to have the perfect excuse to drink a ridiculous amount of booze without getting nagged by Riddle for acting inappropriate. Trey sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in a strained manner, as if resisting another stress-related aneurysm. He nods with resignation that he won't be back at Heartslabyul any time soon, committing himself to making sure none of the trouble-making underclassmen get up to their usual antics of havoc, mayhem and chaos. You catch Trey mutter, "I will definitely regret this," to himself, but you still allow a surge of gratitude wash over your anxious heart at his kind gesture.

Lilia's laughter rings out, the night breeze sweeping back his hair to reveal a playful grin. "The Pop Music Club is always down for a fun time. This will be the perfect opportunity for me to show Kalim and Cater how to really party! Oh, what a splendid evening this will be," he gleams, patting his clubmates heartily on the shoulders. They both gulp, nervous about his declaration.

The gentle moonlight reflecting off the ocean catches Lilia's irises in a breathtaking display of shimmering crimson. In a flash, he materializes in front of Fellow, nearly scaring the poor fox out of his skin. Lilia's lips are curled in a wide, sly smile and he stares deep into his soul.

After a moment of silence, he narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue, stepping forward and speaking conspiratorially. "But tell me the truth. What really is the score on this entire set-up?" The sinister, terrifying nature Lilia exhibits makes Fellow's ears tremble and tail swish madly in defense, eyes large and alert. Fellow lets out a nervous yelp, frozen as the staring contest commences. After what appears to be some type of mental standoff, the vampire's demeanor eases.

Lilia puts a comforting arm around Fellow and hugs him to his side, eyes glowing brighter. "Ah, young love! So fun to watch! You two have my blessing," Lilia beams at the stupefied Fellow, whose ears still lay flat against his scalp in terror. His tail is tucked tightly between his legs in an act of submission, a concession of defeat.

With that, your classmates trail out of the boardwalk, away from the ruins of the defunct Amusement Park. Their loud banter fills the night air, a jovial cacophony of nonsense and delirium. Fellow places one hand between Gidel's shoulder blades to gently guide him along, and he extends his other to you, silently inviting you to interlace your fingers with his. His expression is relaxed and expectant—but his eyes show his nerves. His smooth, gloved palm envelops your hand and together, the three of you follow your classmates.

🌟 song: Violence (Club Mix) - Grimes ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 1.8k

The dark streets of the city are lit in an amber glow from the many shops that stay open late, with neon signs boasting special deals and hot food creating a gorgeous rainbow of flashing colors in the night. Bustling crowds move briskly, pouring in from all directions. They mill around, eager to engage in the nightlife of the entertainment district, excited to partake in their desired sins. You follow a group of partygoers through an arching entranceway that has the phrase 'Hell's Den' lit above the metalwork in garish crimson lights. Passing underneath the grand entrance and entering the gaudy exterior is another world of sound, color and light—a vibrancy not meant for the meek. The entirety of the complex is covered with glowing tiles, casting a radiant aura in such a dazzling fashion it reminds you of a place in your home world: Las Vegas.

Welcoming aromas of cigarettes, alcohol, and cheap cologne, and the buzzing, neon atmosphere draws a content sigh from Fellow. The wide array of faces passing by—all of them new and shining with happiness, seeking to escape their own respective realities. There is something inspiring about this bustling den of iniquity. The electricity that percolates within the underground is like a shot of adrenalin. It's pure magic. It is no wonder all of this serves as an irresistible lure for those craving freedom. In this night-city, any sinner can find solace.

As you pass the main foyer of Hell's Den, an enormous set of double doors lies ahead. Three large, burly bouncers loiter at the entrance and peer closely at you all.

"Now what do we have here?" the bouncer booms, zeroing in on Gidel. The bouncer points towards the kid, accusatory. "Ain't he a little young for this joint?"

All heads turn towards Gidel, who stands proud and fearless in the face of these mountainous men. While most everyone else shifts nervously, Gidel plants his little hands on his hips and looks up at the bouncers unabashed, pursing his lips in an indignant pout and giving an extra little sassy bob of his head. He stands his ground with the cold, fierce and commanding presence of someone much older. The way his stance radiates authority, even in the face of danger, is both admirable and comical. The usual slouching and youthfulness of his mannerisms and body language are totally eradicated as the imperious stare he fixes on the bouncers bears down. Gidel is a fearless soldier—a fiercely determined, stalwart pillar in the face of adversity, daring the guards to deny him passage.

"You wound me, good sir," Fellow puts a gloved hand to his heart in a mock sign of hurt. "Of course, he is of drinking age. How insulting!" He levels them with his withering orange gaze. The muscle men shift uneasily at his silent challenge—the cocky facade is his customary tactic for warding off hostilities before they could grow and take root. "This here," he grabs the glowering Gidel, patting the child proudly on the head, "is the eldest of our party." The bouncers look at each other, then at the boy, then back to Fellow. The sheer absurdity of Fellow's statement is undeniable—no reasonable person would buy it.

Fellow goes on. "Cater, are you seeing this shit? Discrimination, in this day and age? Put these nitwits on blast," Fellow gestures to Cater's phone, and Cater begins filming. Gidel points aggressively at the bouncer, shaking his little index finger with the might of his wrath, as Fellow declares loudly, "I want everyone to know—this place is not welcome to those of different social stations, based on age or appearance. This is preposterous!" He turns his attention back to the bouncers, widening his arms to the gathering crowd.

"Bigotry, ageism, it's so awful! No wonder Gidel hides the fact that he's over 2,000 years old. Now I see why the man refuses to share the wisdom he's collected, the amazing anecdotes and experiences, and the undeniable brilliance he could impart upon the world—instead, he hides, ashamed, all due to the abuse he receives on a daily basis from these types of buffoons!"

The surrounding individuals stare in stunned silence. "It's not Gidel who is the child here, but all of you. People should not be judged so harshly due to their appearance. Everyone should be accepted—their ideas, actions, and experiences embraced with respect, despite physical differences that set them apart. Everyone must be loved and appreciated, for there are precious gems everywhere we look in this beautiful world. The rich, diverse community of people who inhabit this planet should be able to share with all, learn from one another and work together in unity, free to be who they are without harassment!"

The neon light catches fresh tears running down various faces in the crowd. To add further insult to the bouncers’ injuries, Royal Sword Academy's Seven Dwarves—who happened to be waiting to get into the same bar—stare daggers at the gatekeepers and gather near Gidel in solidarity. Their angry, diminutive stature radiates powerful force when unified against a common enemy—it is truly a frightening sight to behold.

In one single swoop, Fellow swings public opinion in Gidel’s favor, inciting rage to right the wrong. The fervor of the crowd continues to rise. "Please, show our precious elder the respect he deserves. Do not look at him and see a mere child—look into his eyes to the aged visage beneath." His orange gaze bores into the guards. "Can you not sense his inner radiance, the power and splendor of his soul, and the treasures locked away within? Don't allow your prejudices and expectations to hold him back. Or you, for that matter. The sheer fact of his youthful appearance is no obstacle to greatness! And as long as you carry this narrow-minded sentiment, you will forever be barred from ever knowing the greatest secrets of the universe. Remember, folks! In the end, it isn't your status, money, or popularity that ultimately leads to a better future! It's our kindness, compassion, and tolerance." The conman punctuates his powerful speech with a satisfied swish of his fluffy tail, and the crowd cheers wildly in approval.

Cater is eating this up. His thumbs frantically type out a lengthy post that ends with his signature sparkling diamond hashtags, creating the most glorious online discourse.

Trey is lost in thought, muttering to himself, "he does have the right idea, maybe he'd make a good Headmage after all."

Kalim stares intently, with a faraway gleam in his eye, utterly entranced by Fellow. He’s just about ready to sign up for a personal tutoring session on the topic of the Universal Principles.

The rest of your classmates have the most deadpan expression on their faces, looking at each other and silently communicating how deeply uninterested they all are at witnessing this bizarre, disturbing spectacle for the umpteenth time.

The guards can’t hide their bewilderment, and they reluctantly backpedal to let your group inside. You and Cater share a mischievous smile, impressed at Fellow's antics.

Your devious fox pulls you flush to his body, ushering you into the club with a sly wink. "Shall we, dearest Y/n? Let’s make our debut, hmm?" He smirks in the direction of his brother as he spins you around, all while moving backwards into the bar. He bows deeply and gestures elegantly, indicating you should head inside first. You can't help giggling, covering your mouth to conceal the toothy grin that betrays your giddiness as you make your way inside. His eyes travel up and down your frame, marveling at your swaying hips, devouring every curve. His suggestive tongue wets his bottom lip before he bites it, fangs now visible. You're almost ashamed of how attracted you are to him.

Your classmates follow like ducklings trailing a parent, curious to see where the night will take them and if any of it will be blackmail-worthy. How amusing. They muffle laughter at Fellow's narcissistic flamboyance and over-exaggerated antics, taking note of every ridiculous attempt to woo you. A few pretend to gag, exchanging distressed, strained expressions—a theatrical attempt to shove down the raw, unbridled horror they feel at the thought of having to live through another performance of the clown show.

You're not even sure if he wears a persona—a true entertainer, for the thrill of it all—or if he's trying on sincerity for once. You suspect he's a walking caricature of his own making. Even so, the raw energy and manicured showmanship are alluring. His penchant for high-pitched laughter and dramatized emotion adds levity to an otherwise dark situation—something about it really tickles you. His potentially-feigned amusement lights up his impossibly expressive face in a manner that is genuinely contagious.

Slowly taking in your surroundings, your mouth falls slightly open. This was no ordinary dive bar—this was a full on club. A disco ball hangs from the ceiling, dispersing kaleidoscopic beams of color and light throughout the space. The rhythm throbs, perfectly synced with the strobe—each flash of luminescence reveals a slightly new scene. Sweaty bodies bend and sway to the thumping, seductive beat—you’re so ready to join them. Every face around you morphs into carefree bliss. From behind you, Fellow's presence is electrifying, playfully tracing his fingertips across the curve of your lower back as he leads you to the bar. His hand lightly smacks your ass, as if in approval, and your face warms. The effervescent air and residual excitement of escaping death creates an aphrodisiac unlike anything you’ve experienced. The pulsing bass, Fellow's slightly-territorial hand on your hip, and his sensual gaze makes your heart thump erratically. An aching want—no, need—simmers beneath your skin.

"May I get you a drink?"

Fellow's soft words pull you from your daze, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes appraises your dilated pupils. His toothy grin widens.

"You prefer sweet, don’t you? I know just the thing."

He studies you lasciviously.

"Freshly-squeezed juices and top shelf liqueurs always do the trick. I just love the taste of cherries."

He brings his hand up to your cheek, the pads of his fingers hovering over the shell of your ear before landing around a stray tendril of hair. He twirls the silky strand between his gloved fingers and tucks it gently behind your ear. Tantalizing.

"Yes, please. That sounds delicious."

You giggle nervously, unable to break eye contact. You hadn’t noticed how full his lips were—the bottom pout most inviting. You hope he doesn't notice you gulp.

Somehow, the man's smile grows even bigger. He takes your hand in his, clasping it tightly and bringing it up to his mouth to plant a soft, chaste kiss.

"Wait right here for me, won't you, my dear? I'll be back in a heartbeat."

With a spin, he dances his way through the crowd towards the bartender, expertly navigating the chaos. You stand there dumbfounded, unable to keep the affection from blossoming in your chest; full, red, and so tight that you're afraid it might burst.

Hi, it's me again. Erica. The girl who said "my goal for 2024 is to spend the whole year writing!" Yeah. Sorry about that. Turns out that life sucks and writing is hard. I'm doing my best out here, though. I hope y'all enjoy this one! This shit really makes me laugh, so I hope you laughed too. If you want to create any art based on a scene from this, PLEASE do. I've already started working on chapter 3. I hope it won't take me forever to finish this story but, I'm really just taking my time with it. By "it" I mean, you know, getting to the whole point of this request, which is where Fellow Honest drunkenly confesses to you. But as you can see, we are going on a whole journey, here. I hope you love it! That's why I'm calling it a slice of life. I hope I get to talk to you all again really soon, in my next writing, which I hope... will be... soon. Love you all dearly, ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome. P.S. I'll be at Anime Expo at the beginning of July. Come say hi!

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cheapshrimpysheep · 3 months

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Romantic Experiment

SUMMARY: They want you to assist them with a simple experiment. They'll show you how it's done, maybe try to convince you to join the science club and definitely flirt along the way.

CHARACTERS: Science Club (Trey Clover / Rook Hunt)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Dating; Romantic Relationship; Flirting

WARNING: Do Not try Rook's experiment at home! Mercury is very Toxic! Trey's experiment is safe, tho.

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.330 words per character.

COMMENTS: If you follow me, you know that if I write more than 1k it's because I got excited and had more ideas than I expected. I relied on this page to learn about and describe the experiments. If I made a mistake somewhere, I studied arts, not science, ok? I’m sorry. 😅

I hope you enjoy 🧪

CONTEXT: Either you two are dating or already at the beginning of your relationship, so you're still in that flirting phase.

Trey and you were talking about the school clubs because you were wondering if you should join one. So, Trey suggests that you go with him to the science club one day to see if you like it and are interested in joining. But thinking about how demanding Professor Crewel can be, you comment that perhaps it is too difficult for you.

“Too difficult?” He smiled, that smile the other Heartslabyul students usually described as a protective older brother smile. “Don't worry, it's just a visit. And even if you want to join the club, no one will force you to do anything you can't do. We are free to do the experiences that interest us most. And of course, if you need help I will always be there for you.”

You met Trey at the classroom door just before the science club meeting started. Like you, he was already wearing his lab coat too.

“We're not going in yet.” He tells you. “I had an idea for a simple experiment that you might like. And I wanted you to participate in all the steps, or as many as possible, so I need you to come with me to get the components. Shall we?”

First you two go to Sam's Mystery Shop to buy yellow, cyan and magenta professional floral dyes and tonic water. You ask if the experiment is to make colorful flowers.

“I can't make that part a surprise, can I?” He says with a smile and his eyebrows arched in pity. “Let's say we're going to paint the roses but not just red. And speaking of which, they are the ones we are going to get now before going back to the classroom.”

Then he takes you to the botanical garden and leads you to a corner where white rose buds are growing.

“I took the liberty of planting them beforehand so we could start the experiment straight away.” He explains. “What you see are three different rose cultivars. Vendela, La Belle and Avalanche.” He indicates each one while saying the name. “They are said to be the best for absorbing dye. The dyeing process can take a few days, so an open bloom won’t last long enough. That's why we're going to use buds that have not fully opened. Could you help me pick them?” he asks rhetorically, just being the well-mannered man that he is.

If you take a moment to look at him concentrating on cutting the stems of the roses, he will smile at you, without taking his eyes off the flowers, and say: “As flattered as I am with you admiring me, I would really prefer it if you were more worried about not cutting yourself.” You were wearing gloves, so the rose thorns weren't as much of a concern as the scissors you were using to cut them.

He will finish picking his share of the roses faster than you pick yours, and he will stop to look at you. If you notice and look at him, he will say with a smirk: “I've already finished my part. Now it's my turn to admire you at work. You really are more attractive when you're focused.” and he will laugh at your reaction to that sudden comment. “Fine, I'll help you.” He says with his calm smile “Like I said, I don't want you to cut yourself.”

You only took the rose buds, but some of the other roses were already open. He picks one, hands it to you and in front of your eyes "Doodle Suit" the rose petals turn into your favorite color(s) with a soft whisper. You take the flower with a smile and he kisses your cheek.

He gets up, picks up the shopping bag with one hand and the dozen roses that you two picked with the other. “We can go back now. Everything else we need is already in the classroom.”

You were in the classroom with other science club members, but there was room for everyone. Trey was right, it was a simple and kind of relaxing experiment. You used a sharp blade to cut the stem of the roses into 3 sections. If you didn't feel confident using it, Trey would have no problem cutting the stems for you. You added dye and tonic water to three plastic bags. If you ask if you couldn't use regular water, he’ll say:

“Yes, regular water is commonly used, but tonic water creates a special effect that I want to be a surprise when I show it to you. So be patient okay?” he winks.

You carefully separated each section of stem and place it in its own bag of dyed water, used a rubber band to secure the bags to the roses and placed the flowers in a bud vase to keep them upright. You needed to place the flowers in a cool place, away from direct sunlight, so Trey suggested placing them under the table and making a sign warning other students to be careful.

“The petals will begin to change color within a couple of hours, but it may take a few days to achieve the best color.” He explains. “During this time, we need to make certain the roses don’t run out of liquid. Therefore, we may need to add more dyed water from time to time.”

For a couple of days you and Trey texted each other to arrange shifts to check the flowers and add more dye water. You saw the roses opening slowly and the the white petals turning into increasingly more vivid colors. The mixture of yellow, cyan and magenta made them a perfect rainbow color. You would often also find a small note written by Trey, usually inviting you to have tea and try some sweet treat that he made or was going to make for you.

And then one night, the two of you agreed to meet in the classroom because Trey thought the roses were ready. It was just the two of you. He turned on the lights and went to get the bouquet of rainbow roses. They were absolutely beautiful! He took out a flashlight and handed it to you.

“Do you want to find out what tonic water does?” He asked you with a quite excited smile. He takes his magic pen, points it at the lights in the room and turns them off. “Turn on the flashlight and point it at the roses.”

You do it. It was a black light that when pointed at the roses made them glow. The more amazed you are, the happier he will be. He hands you the bouquet and holds the lantern himself.

“I know this is going to sound a lot like Cater, but can I take a photo of you holding the roses? After all this was an experiment and I need to record the experiments I do.” You agree and he takes a photo with his cell phone while pointing the black light at the flowers. He looks at the photo with a smug smile.

“I can't wait to see Rook's face when he sees this photo.” You ask why. After all, this was a simple experiment. “It's not because of the experiment, it's because of the photo itself. It's a beautiful photo and he won't be able to deny it. And I'm not just talking about the roses.” He smirks.

You ask if it wouldn't be a good idea to take a photo with him too, after all he was the main scientist. He laughs, and agrees, and the two of you take a selfie with the flowers, the black light on the table and pointed at the two of you. He looked even more attractive with the rainbow glow of the roses pointing at him. And in the middle of the night. He looked at you with the same thought.

“So what you say? You'll join me at the science club. There are more exciting experiments we can do together.” He smirks, takes the bouquet and places it carefully on the table without taking his eyes off you, and breaking the distance that the roses were causing between the two of you. “What do you think about being my assistant? Tempting? Or is that just my lips?” You were indied looking at them, the same way he was looking at yours.

“My Dear Trickster!” Rook appeared out of nowhere, as he does so often, and with his lab coat on. He held your hand with one of his, your waist with the other and lovingly pulled you closer to him. “Fate is so generous in making me meet you at this moment!” He kisses your cheek.

“I was just now heading to the classroom where the science club meets and thinking about all the possibilities of new experiments I could do when I saw one on my list that would be merveilleuse to do with you of all people! S'il te plaît, come with me mon amour. I'll show you how much my heart beats for you!”

Instead of taking you to the classroom, he first took you to Mr. S's Mystery Shop, as you needed to buy the main component for that experiment.

“Welcome, little imps! Looking for a last-minute forgotten item perhaps?” Sam assumed from Rook's lab coat. And maybe he also knew about the science club meeting.

“A specific ingredient for a last-minute decided to be done experiment, would be more accurate.” Rook smiled. “As far as I know, such things are not an enemy to your stock, correct?”

“On the contrary! Name it and I'll tell you where and how much it is.” Sam winked.

“Liquid Mercury.” Rook responds naturally.

“Mercury?!” Sam was surprised but not shocked. “You know it's toxic right? And relatively expensive.”

“I am very aware of that, oui.” He was still smiling, but with that sly half-closed look of his. “It's for the science club. I had already informed Professor Crewel and he authorized me to purchase it.”

“He did... without a paper...” Sam whispered to himself, before talking to Rook again. “You are of age then?”

“Oui je suis.” He handed Sam his ID. “You would have enough for a simple experiment, non?”

“How many grams do you need?” Sam asked, handing back the ID and smiling like the helpful salesman he is.

On the way back to the classroom, you expressed your concerns and apprehension regarding Rook's experiment. You weren't a member of the science club, how could you help? And about the toxic mercury?

“Worry not, Trickster.” He smiled confidently. “The amount of mercury we will be using is safe, especially while wearing coats, gloves and glasses. The only ingredient I will ever intoxicate you with is love, mon cher.” He puts his hand on your waist and gently pulls you to kiss your cheek. “And as for why I want you to be with me when I do the experiment... he he... you'll find out when you see it.”

“Bon après-midi!” He greets, as soon as he enter the classroom. He didn't explain why you were with him, but no one asked either. The other club members asked each other, but it seemed like no one had much courage to ask Rook directly. Except one person.

“Hi Rook, (Y/N).” Trey greeted you. “You had never come to a club meeting before. Are you thinking about joining or did you just come to assist Rook?”

You say you came because Rook asked you, but now that he was talking about it, you could also see what the club was like and think about whether you would like to join.

“You will always be welcome!” Rook says. “Oh, but Chevalier des Roses you are very cruel to me.”

“Why? What did I say?”

“Now you've put the merveilleuse image of (Y/N) and I here, doing experiments together. How heartbreaking it will be now to have that fantasy destroyed. You truly underestimate the thorns in your words.”

Trey smiled like he was thinking that Rook was just being dramatic again. “Well, I apologize, but aren't you putting (Y/N) in a position where it will now be difficult to refuse the invitation?”

“Non. There is nothing more charming than the free will of one's heart. I will be happy with whatever my dear Trickster decides.” his usual smile became sly. “Are you perhaps trying to pass the blame for your words onto someone else?”

“Of course not. Don't distort my intentions.” Trey adjusts his glasses, still smiling politely. “I'll leave you to your experiment. I also have something I want to test.” He walked away.

He puts what you bought on a table and goes to get the rest of the materials that were already in the room. A petri dish, pipettes, a new nail and a small bottle with a transparent liquid.

When he went to get the second bottle, the glass was dark, so he had to read the label. He picked up one that made several heads turn and a collective sigh of concern was heard. “Potassium chlorate...” He read to himself, but with the silence in the classroom, the others could also hear him. “Ups... not chlorate, dichromate.” He put the bottle back in the cabinet and took out another like it with the label: Potassium dichromate. A sigh of relief was heard in the room and the students returned to focusing on their projects.

Rook returned to the table laughing. You ask him why the other members reacted that way to the first bottle.

“Potassium Chlorate.” he explains. “Is a strong oxidizing agent that has a wide variety of uses. It is or has been a component of explosives, fireworks, safety matches, and disinfectants. I think they were afraid I was going to make explosives.” he leans in and whispers in your ear. “Don't tell them that it is a possibility for another day.”

You begin the experiment. He place a drop of mercury in the petri dish. Then he pour transparent liquid over the drop to cover it. He explains to you that it is sulfuric acid. He then add a small amount of what is on the second bottle. They look like little red crystals, almost as small as dust. That was potassium dichromate. He waits some time before giving you the new nail.

He stands behind you and holds your hand that is holding the nail with his. “Now let's see if it works. Shall we?” He practically whispered that in your ear. He makes you slowly bring the tip of the nail closer to the drop of mercury. And before you touch it, the drop starts to move and... beat like a heart. The mercury drop will beat for about 20 seconds before stopping.

“Mercury Beating Heart.” He explains sweetly. “Is a popular chemistry demonstration based on an an electrochemical redox reaction that causes a blob of mercury to oscillate, resembling a beating heart. Simple, dangerous, and beautiful.”

He frees your hand and lets you continue the experiment on your own if you want. The tip of the nail never touches the mercury and the heart will always beat for a few seconds before you try again.

“The club wants to hold a small fair to demonstrate some experiments. I thought this would be a simple but interesting demo to show potential new members. So, you tell me, what do you think?”

You can tell him it's an excellent idea, but if you're concentrating on the mercury heart, making it beat gently, he won't need any verbal response.

He laughs. “Beauté! I could watch your fascinated look all day. However...” He brings his face closer to yours. You move the nail away from the mercury, and he places a finger under your chin, moving your head slightly. Your lips very close. “I would hunt to have that look on me instead.”

If you want to know more, here are the links to the experiments:

Trey -> Rainbow Roses

Rook -> Mercury Beating Heart

And if you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Trey Clover #Trey Clover x Reader #Trey x Reader #Rook Hunt #Rook Hunt x Reader #Rook x Reader

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jiminscockr1ng · 7 months

Text

✩｡°𝄞🚨D-TOWN BABY 𝄞✨°｡✩

╝ •part one | part two ╔

╰₊𓂂➢ pairing: gang affiliated!yoongi x fem!reader

╰₊𓂂➢ genre: hood au, bother’s best friend au, smut, angst

╰₊𓂂➢ warn!ngs: use of the n-word, aave, [mentions of drugs, drug dealing, death, smoking and drinking], negligence due to use of drugs (reader’s mother), reader is heavily black coded, cat-calling, riding, oral (reader receiving), swallowing semen. (let me know if there’s more please!)

╰₊𓂂➢ summary: yoongi is apart of a gang called d-town, the gang your brother just so happens to be apart of.

╰₊𓂂➢ word count: 5,625 words

╰₊𓂂➢ author’s note: the inspiration came from me shouting “D-TOWN NIGGA!” at my sister while watching the Daechwita music video. lmao, i hope y’all enjoy it.

The headlights of your black honda civic shines on the group of men huddled together on the steps of the project building.

Smoking, drinking, talking and laughing loud as hell, and hitting licks.

You huff while turning your car off. Stepping out, your long, fern green skirt flows with the wind. Cleavage hanging out of your bohemian patterned shirt. As you approach the ran down project building you can hear the men on the stairs whistling at you.

You roll your eyes at the gang members who are shouting and cat-calling loud as hell— the whole block could hear.

“Damn Ma, can I get a 360?!” One of them call out. Before you could even flip him off, two familiar voices chime in.

“Chill, nigga.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

They say at the same time. The two voices could easily be distinguished as Trey (your brother) and Yoongi (your brother’s best friend).

Or their street names: Tre D and Agust D. The ‘D’ standing for D-Town. To which you find corny as hell because you all literally live downtown. All these corny ass niggas’ names end with D.

Once you’re right in front of the group of men your brother nods his head at you. That’s just him acknowledging your existence. The two of you have a complicated relationship. It’s only complicated because you don’t like his lifestyle (respectfully) but he won’t stop gang banging.

Nonetheless, you’d still take a bullet for that man. Vice versa.

“Yo, _______.” Yoongi speaks. From the looks of it, you can already tell he’s about to say some stupid shit. He has that sorry ass smirk on his face and keeps glancing around at his little posse. Leaning your weight on to one leg, you simply arch your brow at him.

“You gon’ let me tuck you in?” Your stoic expression remains the same. A few giggles are heard and your brother shakes his head. Trey is more than used to Yoongi making advances at you— he’s been fiend out for damn there 8 years.

Yoongi looks you up and down, adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder. You smack your teeth and harshly brush past the men blocking your way up the stairs. Prior to entering the building you yell back at the long haired, pale man.

“Tuck your dick!”

SLAM! You slam the door shut, you can hear the distant instigating behind the door as you walk up the stairs to the shared apartment. Mumbling curse words on your way up.

Yoongi’s smirk never leaves, despite the instigation his crew nagged on about. He likes that shit. He loves it. Your hot temper and all of it. He knows that if he wanted to he could shut you right up. But you being mad at him kind of turns him on… so he’ll let you have it.

You’d prefer a nice and quiet, empty pathway to your home when you get off from work. You go through enough stress as it is. Another headache is exactly not what you needed.

Stepping foot into the dark apartment, you set your purse down and walk to your room, ready to get in the shower after a long day. The apartment is fairly big compared to the other units. More than enough space for you and your brother. Although, for the past year it’s really just been you occupying the space.

Trey is never home. He’s out and about being Tre D. He stopped coming home about a little over a year ago. It’s just gang related activities after the other, selling drugs, hanging out with D-Town and fucking random girls. Repeat.

It’s reasonable that you gave up on trying to stop him. He’s a grown man now and you can’t sit around all day to inspect your little brother’s everyday life to make sure he’s doing ‘the right thing’. He’s only 2 years younger than you but you always acted as a mother figure. Taking over that role after your mother got sprung out on crack and left you both.

Working your ass off everyday, feeding him and yourself, trying to make sure he’s doing well in school— all a waste of time. Now look. He’s outside of your shared apartment, probably not even going to come up stairs and is making way more money than you.

You regret the day he met those guys. And you regret even more when he dragged Yoongi along with him.

The thought of Yoongi makes you sigh. You pick up your towel to get in the shower, blasting Lauryn Hill as you lather your brown skin with smell-good soap. You manage to decompress in the shower. Tracking wet footprints to your bedroom as you approach the window, you look outside to see if they’re still there.

Yes. Yes they are. Your brother seems to be leaving and you can’t help but notice someone is missing from the gang.

And almost on queue— as if the devil himself set it up… you hear the front door opening. Letting out a groan, you go and peak out of your bedroom door.

“No need to hide, babygirl. Come on out.” Yoongi calls.

You roll your eyes before slamming your door. But like you figured, the door opens right back up and in comes Yoongi. He silently stands in front of the door after he closes it behind him, observing your figure that is semi-hidden behind the white towel you have on. Yoongi already has a little stiffy just by looking at you.

“Stop calling me babygirl you freak, I’m older than you.” You say, responding to the comment he made. He chuckles, walking over to sit on your bed while you apply lotion on your legs. He drops his duffel bag on the ground next to him.

“Yeah, by like a few months.” Looking down at him, you noticed that he’s man spreading, leaning on his arms that are propped up behind him on the bed. Refraining from gulping, you look away.

You don’t respond to him. Instead, you continue on with your nightly routine, pretending that the fine man is not sitting on your bed ready to pounce on you the second you say go. You can hear shuffling behind you as you fix your locs, putting them in the ponytail.

“_______, I got you something.” He says and you reluctantly turn around. This man really doesn’t learn or care to catch a hint. In his hand is a book. A book that you’ve been searching for everywhere and is sold out.

“How…” is all you can mutter out. Out of all of Yoongi’s highly prestigious and unusual gifts he attempts to give you, this has got to be the best one yet. Best, because you actually wanted it. Not that that Birkin Bag was easy to donate— that was a struggle.

“Uh— I saw you were looking for this shit everywhere on your spam.” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Why the hell are you on my spam page?!”

“So I had drove damn there 2 fucking hours to get this shit.” He says, ignoring the previous question.

You love it. You want to snatch the book out of his long slender fingers, throw your bonnet on and start reading immediately. But—

“I can’t take that Yoongi.” The sentence isn’t something that he hasn’t heard before. You tell him every single time he comes up to your apartment trying to hand you something he bought for you. You never take shit from him and if you do, it gets donated almost immediately.

He scoffs. Honestly looking a little pissed off— fed up to be exact. “What do you mean you can’t take it? Didn’t you hear me, _______?” He stands up, book still in hand. “I drove 2 hours for a fucking book!” He exclaims.

It’s not like you’re meaning to be a bitch. You’d just rather not take anything that was bought with drug money. Even the book you’ve been dying to read for months.

“Listen Yoongi—”

“Agust D.” He corrects.

“I’m not calling you that shit!” A smile cracks onto his face. Just a small one. Because, as mentioned before, he loves that shit. But he’s still fed up.

“I can’t take that. It’ll be donated just like the other gifts you attempt to bribe me with.” You say and he sets the book on the bed, stepping closer to you. “I’m not bribing you _______. I just wanna spoil you, just let me do that.”

“No! I don’t want anything you or my brother buy with your fucking D-Town money. You can keep all of that shit!” You roar while waving your arms around. He sighs, running his fingers through his long black hair, letting it fall back in place. “Money is money, _______.”

“I’m not doing this with you, Yoongi.” Arguing with him back and forth is like arguing with a wall. You two could go on and on about the lifestyle he and Trey are choosing to live.

Yoongi walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You don’t pull away. Despite how stubborn you are, you’d never deny Yoongi’s touch whenever you feel him. It’s instant stress relief.

“I’m trying, _______.” He calmly says in your ear. The disembodied voice— so husky yet smooth. It sends shivers down your back and all of the hair on your arms stand tall.

“Try harder then.”

“Why are you like this?” You scrunch your face up. “Like what?!” You can feel him shrug his shoulders behind you.

“Like… stubborn and petty.” Offended, you scoff.

“Stubborn and petty like your mama?” It was a quick little insult— a joke! Everyone says it. Plus, you had to think of a come back quick or else you know Yoongi would’ve known that you knew what he said was partially accurate. But when you feel the tight hold Yoongi had around your waist loosen… you knew you fucked up.

“You know my moms’ is dead.” You immediately twist your body around to face him, your towel nearly unraveling. You quickly catch it. “Omg, I did not mean it like that, for real. I was just saying shit!” You ramble on and on about how you don’t think before speaking and how sorry you are.

Then he laughs. Like actually laugh. Not a corny little smirk or the low chuckle he does when he’s around his boys— not even a light smile. He gave you his infamous, gummy smile, shoulder bouncing laugh. He even threw his head back for a second.

You really couldn’t help but smile. You missed that laugh. Having been reunited with it after so long makes you forget everything said and done. Because that’s the Yoongi you know, the Yoongi you grew up with, the Yoongi you loved. You smile at the taller man still looking at you with that cute gummy smile even after the laughter died down.

“Stop apologizing _______, I was just fucking with you.” You scoff but the smile never fades, even when you playfully punch his shoulder. “That’s not funny!” He nods his head in agreement as if he wasn’t just literally laughing his ass off.

“It was just funny seeing you speak like that. First time in mad long you didn’t have that stick that you love so much up your ass.” Looking up at him, you can’t even be mad at what he just said. Not when all the old feelings were suddenly rushing back in. The ones you fought off years ago.

“Yeah,” you switch your focus onto the ground. “It was nice seeing you laugh like that.” His fingers lightly grip your chin to lift your head back up to look him in the eyes. Your heart is doing backflips but in your head there are a million different alarms going off, screaming ‘abort!’.

“You always make me laugh. Whether I’m laughing around you or at home in my bed, laughing about something that you said. You make me…” He trails off making you furrow your eyebrows a bit.

“Make you what?” He sighs, scratching the back of his head, looking out of the window. You shove his shoulder to get his attention again. “Make you what?!” He looks down at his shoes as if the answer was written on them. They weren’t. You checked.

“You make me… hmmph.” He mumbles and you slap your hands on your naked thighs in frustration. You grip his face in your whole hand to get him to stop looking around the room helplessly, like a mother trying to force feed their child.

“What!” You scream.

“Happy!” He reciprocates the volume, eyes going wide when he finally lets the shit flow free. Your hand slowly drops from his face. “Damn— satisfied?” He sassily asks, rolling his eyes. Too in shock to even say anything, you just stand there with your eyebrows high, looking like a dumbass.

“_______,” he starts, earning you attention. So many thoughts sprint through your mind as you stare up into his sharp brown eyes. It’s really hard to believe that after everything, he still found happiness in you. You can’t recall the last time you felt happy in Yoongi’s presence. The man that you once loved. You and Yoongi never dated, never slept together, never really announced any feelings for each other either. The relationship the two of you had was unspoken. You knew the love was there— he did too, and that was enough.

“I need you to know, that I want you.” He says seriously. Your heart drops at the words. No.

No, not now. Why now?

“I want us, _______.” You could melt underneath his gaze. You feel yourself slowly folding. Ready to submit and give into him— give into your heart that’s been begging to be his for 7 years now. “Tell me you want this too.”

Yes, tell him you want this. Want all of him. Because you do… but you can’t. It’s not the same. This is not the same as it was 7 years ago. Yoongi isn’t the same. You can’t do it.

“I can’t— I don’t… want this.” You try to stand strong but you’re weak. Yoongi always did that to you. “You don’t or you can’t— which one is it?” He says, already knowing the answer. He needs to hear it from you though. You sigh, closing your eyes. “Yoongi—”

“No _______ tell me right now why you can’t just let us be happy?” Yoongi’s frustration is valid. But so is yours. You try to walk away from him, to get away, like those alarms that kept going off in your head a few minutes ago told you to do. But Yoongi isn’t having it. He already laid his heart out there, he just wanted you to take it— for it to be yours. So he grabs your arm. “Don’t walk away from me.” You yank your arm back immediately.

“I fucking can’t Yoongi! You want me to stand here, laugh, ‘kee-kee’ in your face. Tell you I want you and that I want this just for you to go back to the streets the next second someone calls you.” You’re out of breath from all of the screaming, no doubt the neighbors were gonna report. But you aren’t done.

“D-Town tells you to jump, you ask how high. I ask you to get your life together, to get off of the streets and I’m left with the same answer. I’m not gonna be one of those bitches that hold you down when you decide to get into some dumb shit and I’m damn sure not gonna be the person people have to get in touch with because their fucking boyfriend died doing some fuck shit.” The undertone of your face is red and your hands are shaking. “It’s bad enough my brother is in to deep. I’m not trying to have to worry about someone else.”

Yoongi’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he takes in everything you said. You’ve never been this vulnerable. With anyone. You’ve never said any of this to anyone but you don’t want to keep having the same interactions over and over with him.

“I understand.” Is all he says. And it’s all he has to say. You know he’s not gonna quit the streets until the streets quit him. After all, that’s how it works. But he really did understand and if that’s how you feel he won’t push it.

“Can I just lay with you?” Before you can even protest he raises his hands to clarify. “Just for tonight. Can you please… just do this for me? Let me lay with you.” You sigh, over analyzing the possibility. In the end you conclude it was fine. So you grab your pajamas and change in the bathroom. When you come back in, Yoongi is already laying in the bed. Shirtless and wearing nothing else but the pair of basketball shorts he had in his bag. The book resting on your nightstand.

Your pajamas includes a sage green tank top and a beige pair of cotton shorts. You lie next to him in your bed after cutting the lights off. His body instantly cuddles into yours.

“Yoongi,” you call out. “Your head is on my boobs.” He chuckles into the pair before raising his head to look at you. “You used to always let me lay on your boobs. They’re comfortable.” He says with a faint pout, poking your plushy boobs with his finger, making you flinch.

“Yoo— will you stop poking me!” You say frustratedly. “It tickles.” Yoongi perks up at that. “It tickles, huh?” He sings, continuing to poke you. His fingers pokes at your chest, your sides, your neck. You try to fight him off but your laughter is making you weak. “Stu— stop!” You cry out and he just giggles at your plea. It’s really over once he hovers his body over yours, locking yours in place underneath him.

Your face hurts from laughing so hard, can’t even manage to fight it anymore. The poking eventually stops but the soft giggles and toothy smile on your face doesn’t falter. Yoongi’s eyes sparkle as they bore into yours. He carefully places his hand on your cheek, thumb caressing your lifted cheekbone.

“You’re so pretty, _______.” He observes your features from above and his heart pounds against his chest. The pace aligned with yours. “Sometimes,” he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. “I forget just how pretty you are. So I come to bother you— just to see you. But when I have you this close… you make me want to leave everything else behind just so I can be with you.”

That’s all you really wanted. For Yoongi to leave all the bullshit alone. Maybe then you two could work.

But you know that all of this is just pillow talk. Yoongi would never do that. Not for you. Not for anyone. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Yoongi.” You speak mellowly. He lifts his head out of your neck to look at you again. “I can’t tell you how I feel now?” You roll your eyes. “You can but don’t sit here and lead me on to believing in a lie.”

He doesn’t respond. You feel his lips on your cheek. Eyes widening, you look at him in confusion. “What are you—”

“I’m not lying to you, _______.” He kisses your forehead. “Even with everything that happened, no matter what you say to me— I never told you a lie and I don’t plan to.” He leans in to give you another kiss but pauses. His face just an inch away. Your breath hitches at the close proximity, growing nervous when his eyes focus on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers softly against your lips. Your mind isn’t working. There’s no alarms blaring, no weird gut feeling, just you. Underneath him. Without much thought, you mutter a breathy “yes.”

He leans in, his lips molding perfectly with yours. It’s soft and passionate and you’re worried that you just might have a heart attack the way your heart is pacing. Your fingers travel their way through his long strands of hair as you happily taste the minty flavor of his mouth— covering up the taste of cigarettes. When he pulls away to catch his breath, you immediately pull him back down. Now that you got a taste of him, you don’t want to let it go.

The kiss starts getting heated when Yoongi rolls off of you and pulls you on top of him. His hands roam the surface of your back, letting them slip under your tank top. You bite on his bottom lip once you pull away, letting your soft brown hands travel up his abdomen to his solid chest. Your back arches as you leave open mouth kisses against his chest. He takes the opportunity to cup your ass into his hands, occasionally squeezing the fleshy rump.

You slightly shift your hips up against him to lift up. “Fuck,” Yoongi lets out a shaky breath. “Don’t move like that.” You furrow your brows in confusion but you quickly understand when you feel something poking your thigh. In shock, you shift again. A low groan leaves Yoongi’s mouth and he places his hands on both sides of your waist.

You watch as his eyes squeeze shut, the action and the sound he let slip gave you that tingling feeling in your stomach, that familiar sensation fluttering in between your legs. You do it again. Wanting to hear that sound from him again.

“Seriously, you don’t want this to go further than it already has.” True. You don’t, but you’re a little too lust filled to think straight. And the fact that Yoongi is hard as a rock underneath you has you wet. Grinding your clothed sex onto his bulge.

“Yo, I—”

“Shut up.” You say, placing your hands on his chest to support yourself as you grind against him. The lewd sounds that escape from both of your mouths flood the room. Yoongi’s basketball shorts get bunched up in the process, the repeated action dragging the band down, exposing his boxer briefs underneath.

You lift your hips up to pull the shorts down but Yoongi stops you. He sends you a warning look that reads, ‘don’t do this.’

Regardless, you enthusiastically yank them and his boxer briefs down his thighs, letting his dick stand tall against his lower stomach. “_______, you’re confusing me.” He says while you’re busy scrapping to get the clothing from around his ankles, satisfied when they hit the floor. You turn around, looking down at him once again.

“You’re confused? Hm, I thought you were hard.” Speaking sarcastically, you turn your focus onto Yoongi’s member. You grip his length in your hand, brushing your thumb over his sensitive tip making Yoongi twitch.

“A little bit of both honestly. I mean, mostly hard but— woah woah woah, stop!” Yoongi panics once you put your mouth on his dick. He immediately sits up, his back resting against the head board. “I’m not doing this with you.” He says, to which one of your eyebrows flick up.

“Why not?” You scoff. “You don’t seem to have any problem fucking all these other bitches.” Yoongi lets out an unamused laugh, wiping his hands over his face. “You’re not other bitches. You don’t throw yourself on my dick.”

“I just did!” Technically, you did.

Yoongi scoffs, mumbling something under his breath. “It’s not the same thing. You’re invested in this _______ and you know it.” You turn your head away from him, not wanting to hear the truth. “I don’t need you to have another reason to hate me.” Rolling your eyes—

“I don’t hate you.”

“You’re just saying that.” You shake your head, scooting closer to him. “I’m not. I don’t hate you, Yoongi.” You repeat, your fingers go to his hair and you focus on the way his dark hair fall on your skin before looking at him again. “And right now… I’m horny, so.” You sit in front of him, anticipating his response.

“Okay.” He shrugs.

“Okay, what?” He grabs your waist gently, pulling you closer to him. Your lips lock onto his again and this time, the pace quickens. Yoongi’s hands reach for your tank top to pull it over your chest, you lift your arms as he pulls it off, slinging it across the room. Like clockwork, you drag your shorts down as well, tossing them in the corner without a care in the world.

Yoongi’s hands roam all over your body. Taking in the feel of your body being close to his. He retracts from the kiss to drool over your body. His pale hands over your brown skin, the only source of light coming from the window. “What do you want me to do, _______?” He asks, palming your breast in both hands. You bite your lip as you look down at him touching you.

“Can I ride you?” You ask in a whisper and you could’ve swore you felt Yoongi’s dick twitch on your thigh right after the words fell off your tongue. He felt like doing a backflip. An ability he doesn’t have but that’s how you make him feel. It’s just like you to want to ride him— it being your first time even having sex with each other.

“Fuck yes.” You let out a giggle at Yoongi’s expression before leaning over to open the top drawer of your nightstand. His eyes travel with your every movement. “What are you doing?”

“Grabbing a condom.” You popped out. He purses his lips at that. “Guess I’m not the only one you’ve been wrestling in the sheets with.” Looking back at the man with the condom in your hand, the jealous look on his face makes you want to run over to your phone to take a picture. Instead you laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You say, ripping open the packet. “I bought them because they’re a necessity. I’m not fucking anyone— but i’m glad I did buy them.” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “I’d rather not have the neighborhood’s dick in me raw.”

It’s almost comedic the way his jaw drop. “Neighborhood’s dick is cuh-razy!” Slipping the condom on his length, you let out a giggle. Once you’ve got it on all the way you grip his shoulders, lifting your cunt over it. “It’s okay,” you jokingly reassure. “I’ll make sure to give you a good rating.”

“Oh, you got jokes— oh shit.” His demeanor changes once you rub his tip against your wet slit. “Are you—,” He reaches out to drag a finger through your folds. “You’re mad wet.” He states the obvious and when he pulls his finger away, your arousal drags with it. Without a second thought, he lifts his finger to his mouth, sucking on it to taste you. A low moan leaves his mouth. His eyes never leaving yours.

“You ready or did you change your mind?” You shake your head slowly, feeling more aroused than ever. “I’m ready.”

Once again, you maneuver his length through your folds before aligning it at your entrance. You take a deep breath and Yoongi’s hands rub your back. You slowly lower yourself down his length, feeling the pressure of him stretching you out. Your mouth falls agape when his full length is inside of your cunt.

After a few more rounds you get used to it. Yoongi stares at the action of your pussy swallowing his length. Your pussy is so tight around him, he’s afraid he might cum too fast.

He curse in your ear as you begin to ride him faster. “Fuck— you’ve been holding back on me for all these years.” Yoongi moves his hips, helping thrust into you. Your tits jump along with you as you bounce on his cock. So deep, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoes throughout the quiet apartment.

“Ah, Yoongi!” You moan out and Yoongi feels himself growing light headed. “You’re making me go crazy, _______.” He slams into your pussy faster— harder. At this point you weren’t even moving. Yoongi was the one in control of your body.

Especially when he moves you off of him, switching positions to take full control. You lie on your back, abandoned pussy and all. “Yoongi, put it back in.” You beg.

He shushes you before bending down, face in between your legs. His mouth attacks your wet cunt. He flatten his tongue to fully taste your sex. Licking and sucking all of you. His mouth sucks on your clit making you scream out in pleasure while his three fingers abuse your hole. “Yoongi, fuck that feels so good.” He slightly smirks up at you.

“Tell me whose pussy this is.” He says lowly. You could’ve came right then and there just from how sexy he said it. All dominant and territorial. The way he looks— his long dark hair sticking to his face and neck.

“Yuh— oh my god!” You moan out as your legs begin to shake at the overwhelming stimulation of his mouth and fingers.

“Tell me.” He demanded a bit louder.

“Yours Yoongi! It all yours, mm.” His fingers moves faster and you grip the sheets for moral support. “F- Fuck me Yoongi. I want your dick inside me.” It doesn’t take long before he obeys. He lifts up, just before you could orgasm and slides his hard dick inside of you. With Yoongi in control now, the pace is much faster. He lifts one of your legs up, putting it over his shoulder for better access.

Going deeper inside of you, hitting all of the right spots. You pull him down towards your body, your nails digging into his back, creating little crescent moon shaped marks. Chest to chest, Yoongi penetrates your pussy as the two of you share a feverish kiss.

“I’m gonna cum, Yoongi.” You say against his lips, out of breath. He rapidly nods his head. “Cum, mm.” His thrusts slow down, instead he makes sure to go deeper, hitting your spot repeatedly, making your legs shake around him. “Cum for me, _______.”

A few thrusts later and you cream on his dick. He pulls out, slips off the condom and starts stroking his dick. You place your hands over his, moving your mouth towards his tip. When the long drags of warm semen pour out you catch every drop of it. Mouth wide open, tongue out— you swallow his cum. Licking the tip afterwards for good measure.

Yoongi’s heavy breathing fills the room as he collapses on the bed. You get up to throw the used condom out and to collect your pajamas off the floor, walking with a bit of a limp. You toss Yoongi his basketball shorts before cleaning yourself up in the bathroom and changing.

When you come back, you find Yoongi already in his basketball shorts lying on the bed still. “Not gonna dip?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant. You don’t want him to go but you don’t need him to know that. You were just awfully vulnerable and something similar to regret is already creeping up on you.

“Naw, why would I?” You shrug before laying in bed next to him. Not even being able to position yourself, he makes sure he cuddles into you, your face close as hell to his. “So how was the neighborhood’s dick?” He jokingly asks, laughing after. You lightly punch his chest.

“I’m not finna play with you Yoongi.” Yoongi serves you a feigned pout. “Awe, you regretting it already?” You don’t say anything because you really don’t know if you are. You don’t regret the sex because— fuck that was amazing. Best dick you ever had and you really will give him a good rating. However, the things that were said could’ve stayed unsaid. You shared too much vulnerability and that’s not something you’re comfortable with. The last thing you need is Yoongi to throw any of that shit back up in your face.

“I don’t regret it.” You conclude. His arms wrap around your waist tighter, grabbing one of your legs to wrap it around him. “But it won’t happen again. This was a one time thing.”

“But you swallowed my cum.” He pouts again and for some reason you don’t think it’s feigned this time. So you lightly smack his lips. Too much of a distraction.

“Because I didn’t want to get my covers dirty, you freak.” He dramatically raises his eyebrows. “So now I’m back to being a freak.” You sigh because it seems like he’s purposely not paying attention to what you’re actually trying to say.

“Yoongi.” You say seriously making him nod his head. “Okay, I got it. it was a one time thing.” Despite his display of understanding, you can’t help but hear the underlying disappointment in his voice.

You lay in his arms for hours. Neither of you fall asleep, replaying the previous events in your head. You debate with yourself whether or not you’re being in denial, too petty, stubborn, unreasonable. Whether or not you should give Yoongi a chance. Because right now you feel safe. Right now, everything is okay while your head rests against his beating chest. Right now…

“AGUST D GET YO’ ASS DOWN HERE NIGGA!”

You jump. You and Yoongi both lift up— your face of shock is a bit different from his. He knows what it is and you think you do too. That’s why you’re shook as fuck. The shouting and calling through the window doesn’t stop. And when Yoongi arms unravels from your waist, your heart sinks.

“What is that?” You ask.

And when that same, familiar, sorry ass, corny ass smirk that you hate so damn badly form onto Yoongi’s face… you knew.

“That’s D-TOWN BABY.”

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natsukishinomiyaswife · 3 months

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⋆ 𝓐𝓬𝓮 𝓣𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓵𝓪: 𝓕𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓼 ⋆

Just a cute idea I had, based on the Trey wedding thoughts I posted about! ♡ Enjoy! ♡

⋆ You sat at your table, hand holding your head up as your eyes were glued to the dance floor. Trey and his partner were currently having their first dance, whispering and laughing into each other's ears as they moved. The ceremony had been beautiful, located in one of the many gardens in the Queendom of Roses. Chairs sat on either side of the aisle, leading to an arch of flowers where Trey stood. Once his partner walked down the aisle, they took each other's hands, their eye's meeting.

⋆ The love and adoration they held for each other was obvious, even writing their own vows to recite. Vows filled with so much emotion, so much love and care. At one point Ace nudged your side, getting your attention and asking if you needed a tissue. You knew he was teasing you, a small grin on his face while he subtly checked to see if you were crying. The gesture made you smile, with Ace putting his arm over the back of your chair, his hand resting on your shoulder. Near the end of the ceremony you couldn't help but tease him back, nudging his side and asking if he still had the tissues he brought. He stuck his tongue out in response, making you laugh in an attempt to shift your attention away from his face. That didn't stop you from noticing how watery his eyes looked, or how your own eyes felt the same, standing from your seat as you watched Trey and his partner walk down the aisle hand in hand.

⋆ Your thoughts are broken as Ace joins you, handing you a drink before sitting across from you. He notices where your eyes are drawn, focusing his attention on the couple dancing.

"I always thought they would get married one day," you say without thinking, Ace nodding in agreement.

"Me too. We even placed bets on when it would happen. Looks like Cater won again..."

"Wait, you guys made bets? When?"

"Back when they first got together, of course. It was obvious it was gonna happen eventually."

"Did you guys bet on anyone else?"

⋆ You meant it as a joke, noticing his reaction out of the corner of your eye. His body seemed tense for a moment, looking almost...nervous? You shift, watching him turn away as the tips of his ears turn red. Your heart starts to pound at his actions, causing you to repeat the question.

"Did you guys bet on anyone else?"

It takes a moment before you get a response, his face still turned away. He moves to take your hand in his, gripping it before holding it more gently.

"Look, sometimes with these things...you just know, ya know? So..."

He turns back towards you, avoiding your eyes as he tries to find the words to say. After a moment he locks eyes with you, his words sounding more like a promise.

"Give me a few more months...then I'll answer your question, alright?"

⋆ You nod your head in agreement, heart pounding at the implication of his words. You were looking forward to what the following months had in store for you, already having an idea of what the answer to your question was ♡

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

#♡.sheep writes #♡.twst #♡.ace trappola #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #ace trapolla x reader #ace x reader

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bleach-your-panties · 8 months

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KEEP IT JUICY LIKE COUTURE !~ ☆》

- how they eat the 😽🎀 pt 1.

-sugawara, nishinoya, yamaguchi, & tendo! all appropriate age/timeskip age. fem reader.

dividers by adia_morbid via glitter-graphics, @/h-aewo, and @/cafekitsune

☆Koushi Sugawara:

Type of Eater - Slow, Patient, Meticulous

Song: Under - Pleasure P

When Sugawara is eating you out, he most certainly takes his time.

He is a teacher, so his patience is unmatched - especially when it comes to making his special girl feel good.

Prefers more private, intimate settings for oral activities, but is not opposed to eating you out in the teacher's longue at the end of the school day.

"Kou-, wait a second! Is it really appropriate to do this here?! What if somebody walks in?"

*(Both reader and Sugawara are teachers!)

He's kneeling in front of you, his greyish-silver hair slightly mussed, white dress shirt ruffled at the collar from you yanking on it during a heated makeout session, tie askew.

His glasses teeter on the bridge of his nose in danger of slipping off.

Your back arches into the counter behind you, thighs rubbing together in attempt to hold in the slick wetness that's forming between your thighs as your lover looks up at you with those big, round, chocolate-hazel eyes.

"Early-release day, honey." His voice is low and sickeningly sweet while he rubs his hands up your stocking-clad thighs until he reaches the tops.

Rolling them down your hips and over your plush thighs, Sugawara surges forward and grips the fat of them, pushing them up and outwards before letting them close around his head.

Your fingers entangle themselves in his hair as he begins licking you with long, methodical laps of his tongue, up and through your glistening folds. He entire mouth covers your sex as he begins to suck on your clit slowly, swirling his tongue in wide circles.

"K-Koushi..."

His fingers tighten on your flesh while he continues suckling on your bud. He presses you open further and his tongue dives deep into your hole.

"Koushi!"

Your thighs quiver and squeeze around his head while your abdomen clenches and you squirt your orgasm all over his beautiful face.

He leans back and slides his glasses off. Your cum covers him, carefully dripping down over his cheekbones and that cute mole under his left eye.

"Looks like you had an early release as well."

☆Yuu Nishinoya

Type of Eater: Messy, Playful, Eager

Song: Dive In - Trey Songz

He is very eager to eat you out, always. You don't even have to ask him, he just somehow always knows.

You could be reclining on the couch with your knees slightly apart, and when you reach over to grab the remote and look back at your show, there his head is, betwixt your thighs.

Loves for you to ride his face and make a mess on it, too.

Can he breathe? Probably not, but ask him if he cares.

Yuu was due to return home today from a long expedition at sea. He often wishes that you can join him on his sometime-months-long trips around the world, but you have a stable job in Tokyo where you both reside together.

You were on the lying on the couch waiting for him in nothing but one of his old volleyball jerseys and a pair of black lace panties.

When the door clicked open and the sound of his suitcase's wheels rolling across the floor reached your ears, a drizzle of arousal slid down your chunky thigh.

"I'm home, baby girl!" His loud, cheerful voice was right next to your ear. As soon as you turned your head, your lips were engulfed in a sloppy, wet kiss.

Yuu circles his arms around your upper back and lifts you up until your thighs are straddling his head.

Yuu-!

"Too late, he's already gotten started. He uses one hand to lift up your (his) shirt and circle his tongue around your belly button before dipping his tongue in.

You nudge his head with your elbow and he pulls back to look up at you with huge chocolate eyes.

"What?" He nips at your side, making you yelp, "You should know better than to wear my jerseys and think that I won't absolutely devour you, right here and right now."

He straightens up, presses you against the back of the couch, and dives right back in.

"Yuu! Yuu, you need to breathe!" You moan and grip the back of his shirt with your nails as he drags the flat of his tongue through your pussy lips and up to your clit before latching on with his lips, sucking hard.

"MmphnoIdonf." He mumbles while continuing to lick, slurp, and kiss through your drenched folds. His forehead is slick with your juices, making his hair flatten down.

He really, really missed you this time.

☆Tadashi Yamaguchi

Type of Eater: Shy, Careful, Inexperienced

Song: Just A Friend - Mario

Tadashi and you have been friends since high school.

You both had a crush on each other, but did that thing where you both acted oblivious to the other's desires.

So after graduating from Karasuno, you both attend the same university just like you both planned.

So with the notion that the only thing the two of you will ever be is friends, you move into an apartment together.

Tadashi is out doing the monthly grocery shopping while you tidy up your shared space. When you finish, he's still not back yet, so you decide to go lie down in your room and peruse social media while you wait for your freckle-faced friend to return.

After what feels like hours of you mindlessly scrolling and liking pics on Instagram, you hear the front door slam closed and Tadashi call your name.

He has a cute smile on his face as he asks you to help him put away the groceries, in which you comply.

A quick, simple dinner is prepared and eaten before you both retreat to your room to watch a show.

Tadashi rests his head on your thigh as usual - nothing out of the ordinary - until he rests a large palm on the inside of it, dangerously close to your clothed pussy.

"Yam-Yams?"

His eyes move up to your face and his dick begins to stir awake at the soft, caring look mirrored in your own e/c orbs.

'Fuck it' he says in his mind, and with a surge of confidence he moves his hand closer to your cunt.

It's shaking; he's nervous as hell to ask to eat you out, mostly because he's never done it before. But it's you; you'll be patient with him, even guide him along the way.

So, with an unsteady hand, he slips his fingers beneath the fabric and pulls the panties to the side. He pauses, waits for you to stop him - to pull away in disgust.

You're still gazing at him, now with lidded eyes, and you give a little nod.

Tadashi pulls himself onto his elbows and spreads your thighs further apart with his free hand. A soft, surprised 'oh' escapes your lips when he bites down on your thigh gently, nipping the flesh before he licks through the crease, his tongue grazing your outer lips.

"Tadashi!"

You're shivering - did he do something wrong?

But when you thread your fingers through his hair and push his head closer into your warm center, he grows confident.

His little nose bumps your clit as he gives you kitten licks; the action itself is so sweet and sinfully sexy that it has your toes curling.

The speed of his licks increases at your sounds and he grips your thighs to keep you firmly planted in the mattress.

After you finish (which, he can't believe he made you cum), his cheeks are red, making his freckles stand out even more as he gives you the biggest smile ever.

☆Satori Tendo

Type of Eater: Unconventional, Teasing, Mean

Song: Surgery - Peewee Longway, MPA Turk

Tendo is the worst tease on the face of this Earth.

He's mean too, loves to degrade you and make you blush about how well he eats you and how he always leaves you begging for more.

He talks a lot of shit while eating it.

Mans is a menace, fr.

"Satori, please."

You groaned, trying to pull your boyfriend's red head from between your aching legs, to no avail.

"Y-you're killing me...please, 'Tori. Let me have just a little break."

Tendou scoffed and pulled his long fingers from your swollen cunt. A stream of squirt followed them, adding to the soaked towels beneath your ass.

"You act like this is my first time eating you. Man up, Y/N." He cackled evilly and slapped your pussy with the back of his hand, making your hips jerk. He laughed harder.

He kept his devilish eyes trained on you and dropped his long, slender body off the edge of the bed. Hiking your legs over his shoulders, he dove right back in.

Tendou alternated between sucking your lower lips, your clit, fingering you, and slapping your pubic mound.

"Hmm, sweetest thing I ever had in my mouth." He chuckled at his own quip, spit on your pussy, and sucked it right back up before repeating the process.

You mewled and screamed his name, voice only growing hoarser from having already yelled it out so much over the last couple hours. A harsh shiver - another orgasm - racked through your body, making you slump down on the pillows.

Satori licked his lips and looked up at you before smacking your thigh, hard.

"No passing out during a session, Y/N. There's no fun in that. Don't you want to beat your record of squirting five times in a row, back to back?"

Tiredly, you shook your head. You might be saying no, but you only arched your soaked cunt further towards his mouth, making him grin.

As mean as he was, you couldn't get enough of that sinful mouth. He was both your heaven and your hell.

"Too bad for you then. Because I'm going to suck on this pussy until I'm satisfied."

----

#💗💗🍡°tagging: @prettybraat @cunttani @yuujispinkhair @honeybleed @hoesluvshanti @chrollohearttags @darkstarlight82 @krenee1drful

*let me know how i did y'all!*

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luna-the-moth · 2 months

Note

Do you have a favorite character with twst? Do you have any nsfw thoughts on them (sub-wise)?

hi nonnie! I have way too many favorites but i will say i have a fondness for rook and trey <3 jamil was a fave for a Long Time but I will say ruggie’s been a sneak fave , , ,

Sub-wise, ive def seen ruggie as a favorite to think ab esp bc i am weak to men with fluffy blonde hair and blue eyes </33

He’s so busy. Whether it be running around to run errands or getting madol, he can’t seem to catch a break. Doesn’t he deserve to relax? To allow himself to fully let go, at least for a little bit?

At least, that’s what you tell him.

Lucky for you, he’s not too difficult to entreat, and it’s not long before he’s laid back, neck bared to you.

Shivering as you pepper kisses down his neck, hands instinctively reaching out around your shoulder, your back- anything he can reach to hold you close , , ,

He can’t help but arch into you further despite the fact that you're bodies are already pressed flush together , , , the scent of you is simply a drug <3

I do think he’d be a bit nervous around toys at first, but once you get him used to the thrum of a vibe on his cock and thighs, you can ease him to take a (non-vibrating) plug up his ass before attempting to use a vibrating/pulsing plug on him <3 the noise is a bit harsh to his ears at first if you decide to use a stronger vibe on him, but he quickly grows accustomed to the constant stimulation!

His nipples may be too sensitive to use vibes on, but he enjoys your mouth on them a fair bit imo- although he has an oral fixation in general tbh.

He will Melt every time you lave a kiss over a bite mark or hickey-

Also . cumslut. If you cum in his mouth/he’s eating you out, he want every. Last. drop. He’s never been one to waste, and he certainly won’t start now <3 will also be receptive if you cum in his ass tbh (whether it be via a squirting dildo or your actual cock); he likes the fantasy of you claiming him A Lot.

But yeah <33 i love ruggie lots- one of my fave twst subs! lmk if you have any other thoughts you'd like to hear/share, nonnnie!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #ruggie bucchi #twst smut #nsfvv #musings.by.lamplight #moth.flutters

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ramshacklerumble · 3 months

Text

after party

twst fic | words: 7k

Despite this being his final year on campus— Trey Clover had never stepped foot in Diasomnia before now. He quickly decided there was a good reason for it.

Someone like Trey had no business in the Thorn Fairy’s domain.

Even in a school of magic where everything carried a sense of power— the air within Diasomnia all but crackled in its might, testing the mettle of those walking within its walls.

Meanwhile, in contrast to the unfriendly atmosphere and how it made Trey’s skin prickle, Lilia’s smile was all cheer at the center of the lounge. His fangs caught in the glint of Diasomnia’s everpresent green firelight. “Cater! And Vice-Housewarden Trey! Welcome both of you.”

“Hey, Lils.” Cater waved with both hands as Trey gave his greeting and he was glad Cater offered to come along. They stuck out like sore thumbs, but there was something to be said about Cater’s ability to find his place just about anywhere. If Cater felt as out of his depth as Trey did, he didn’t show it. “Thanks for letting us drop in outta the blue, I know you got your hands mega full.”

“Not a worry. I’m sure the same can be said for you two, yet here you are.” Lilia looked over them before his eyes paused on the pair of boxes held in Trey’s hands. “Oh?”

Trey lifted the top box for Lilia to take, “We just wrapped up our unbirthday party and I figured I’d save you a tart for your trouble.“

Lilia giddily twiddled his fingers before taking the box, his face lighting up as he opened it to see what was inside. The delight overtaking his face almost made it easy to forget Lilia was a third-year like Trey, if not just a little older. “Very thoughtful of you! And— oh! There’s two.”

“I thought you might try to share yours with Malleus,” Trey said, a little sheepish in his assumption, but he’d seen Lilia put Malleus on the forefront enough times to feel he wouldn't be too off the mark.

Lilia chuckled and he closed the box back shut before it disappeared in a sudden burst of green sparks, “Very thoughtful indeed, thank you, Trey.”

He gestured at the box still in Trey’s hand, “And I’m fairly certain I know for whom that one might be.”

“Caught us~” Cater sing-songed, “We thought we’d see Sorrel at our unbirthday party, but he didn’t show up. Then it kinda occurred to us that we haven’t seen Sorrel…at all. Like, in days.”

“Ah. He has been feeling a little under the weather…” Lilia held his chin in his fingers, looking at them with round eyes. “But… What's this about an unbirthday party? That’s certainly news. Given it’d been your own housewarden who’d barred Sorrel from ever setting foot back in Heartslabyul.”

“Ah-ha…” Trey gave a thin smile— or at least what he hoped came off as a smile, not a grimace. Riddle had nearly chewed Lilia’s ear off the year prior since he couldn’t bring his grievances up to Malleus on account of Malleus being…well, Malleus…and therefore, nowhere to be found. So it’d fallen on Lilia to keep a raging Riddle from collaring a shaken, shivering Sorrel. “Yeah, I’m…really sorry about that. Again. But, it’d been Riddle himself who’d invited Sorrel.”

Lilia’s brows shot up in high arches, “Really..?”

Cater’s shoulders bounced in a gentle shrug, acknowledging the suspicion, “S’True. Riddle was pretty bummed to find out Sorrel wouldn’t make it.”

Lilia nodded, but how he studied them both gave Trey the impression the fae wasn’t buying it. He smiled at them even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “So am I to assume you’re here as friends or as soldiers?”

“Oh, no, no!” Cater laughed, although he couldn’t keep a twinge of nervousness from snaking into it. “I’m just saying Riddle would’ve liked to talk to him, that’s all. We didn’t tell him we’d drop our buddy a visit, though. That’s all us.”

“Riddle is trying to make amends.” Trey said, “But whether or not he can make it happen…well, that’s just outside our control.”

The corners of Lilia’s mouth twitched thoughtfully, his lower lip sticking out in a way that shaved a handful of years off his face, before perking up in his usual smile. “This year has already been shaping up to be fairly interesting. Silly of me to wave aside the prospect of new beginnings. Bully for Riddle!”

With a single clap of his hands and a spin of his heel, Lilia gestured towards a set of steps leading towards an upper corridor— no doubt leading into the dorm rooms, “I’m sure Sorrel will be ecstatic to have his friends drop in at long last. Or wildly unprepared, I haven’t seen him head out for his laundry in a minute. It’s been sitting in a wet heap. Regardless, a solid shock is good for the circulation. Come now!”

—

New students often complained about Heartslabyul’s corridors and how its onslaught of bold colors and twisting patterns made their eyes swim.

Trey was sure he hadn’t been anywhere near as disoriented in his first days as a Heartslabyul freshman as he was now. While Lilia led Trey and Cater through Diasomnia’s halls, Trey’s gaze pinged about searching for anything that wasn’t gray, stone, a wooden door or a green-fire torch.

They passed by other students as they walked. Much like how his eyes flitted across passing billboards during car rides, Trey felt his eyes immediately try to take in any new information that crossed his sights as Lilia and Cater chatted away. Mostly fae students, though that was unsurprising.

Trey saw many a pointed ear and without fail, the owners of said ears would give Lilia a nod of greeting ranging from attentive to solemn, and Lilia would wave back without skipping a beat of conversation with Cater.

This made one particular student stick out to Trey. Besides his rounded, human ears— he towered over most of the other students Trey had seen, including himself. The off-white mask over his right eye was the real icing on the cake.

The student hadn’t paused to greet Lilia or bothered to spare a glance in his general direction and walked as though nothing could stop him, not even the harsh and solid dorm walls, so he hadn’t been in Trey’s line of sight for more than a few seconds. Still, Trey couldn’t shake the thought that the student’s mask had been molded after— if not, made out of— a human skull.

He couldn’t entertain the idea for long though once Lilia stopped in front of one of the many identical doors spacing the walls.

“I’m sure he’s still in here,” Lilia said as he lifted his hand to knock. There was a brief pause before his knuckles touched the wood. Lilia’s head tilted to an almost imperceptible degree, considering.

But the moment passed so quickly, Trey hadn’t been able to ask what was wrong before Lilia followed through.

A startled cry, cut short by a pained curse, answered Lilia from behind the door.

“Sorrel, you have visitors!” Lilia chirped as though he hadn’t heard anything.

Trey and Cater shared a glance but slapped on a pair of polite smiles at Lilia as he turned to them and said with a wave, “Thank you again for the tarts. Send Riddle my well wishes, will you?” And like the tarts, Lilia disappeared in a flash of viridescent sparks.

“Ow. Uh…Lilia?” Sorrel’s voice called out still within his room, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you, did you say, visitors? Could you say I’m not he…”

The door opened just wide enough for Sorrel to peek out, clearly expecting his vice-housewarden, then froze.

“Yo!” said Cater.

Sorrel closed the door.

Trey and Cater shared another glance— something Trey suspected would be happening a lot this visit. He stepped against the door and gave it a few coaxing raps with his knuckle, “C’mon, Sorrel. We’re already here.”

“We brought you tarts!” Cater piped in from behind him, “I mean, Trey brought you tarts, but I’m here so it still counts as a Cay-Cay Special Delivery!”

Trey tilted his ear towards the door, trying to hear anything. Like shuffling. Or the opening of a conveniently placed window as Sorrel made a run for the hills. Did Diasomnia rooms have windows?

“Um…” Sorrel’s voice sounded close, though a little shaky from the other side of the door, likely holding onto the doorknob for all it’s worth. Trey gave it a test jiggle and heard Sorrel squeak as the doorknob fought the effort. That was good. That meant Sorrel opted to stay put. “Y-Y’know, guys. I’m not feeling too hot. I don’t want you guys to get sick.”

“You sound fine,” said Trey.

Sorrel started coughing.

Trey rolled his eyes and knocked on the door again, “You’re not getting anywhere with that. You know I’ve got little siblings.”

“Not including the dorm,” Cater added, joining Trey in his knocking. “Come out, come out~”

As he said this, Trey happened to look down at his feet. He hadn't paid much attention to it at first, but when he’d stepped up against the door he felt a sudden graininess under his shoe. Looking at it now, Trey realized a slight spread of sand had sprawled over the stone floor when Sorrel opened the door earlier.

Sand.

He remembered waves of it colliding against the torrents of flames threatening to sear them days before. How Sorrel stood before Trey, keeping the heat off him as Trey fought to keep Riddle’s unique magic constrained under his own, even after Sorrel had tried to convince him to run.

Maybe under normal circumstances, someone like Trey had no business in Diasomnia. But if the person who’d helped save the life of his and his own refused to come out, then it would fall on Trey to seek him out.

“Even if we leave now, you can’t avoid us forever.” He said, “And if you didn’t want to see us anymore, then you wouldn’t have stayed and fought Riddle with us in the first place, right?”

Silence.

Trey and Cater stood there, ears still pressed against the door, as they waited for a reply. Cater caught Trey’s eye and made a questioning motion with his hand. “…Sorrel?”

A soft thud sounded from Sorrel’s side, as though he’d thumped his forehead against the door. Trey heard him sigh. Then the doorknob jiggled.

Trey and Cater took a simultaneous step back as the door creaked open, wider than before, but still narrow enough so that only one of them could go through at a time. Sorrel was nowhere in sight, intent on hiding behind the door for as long as he could get away with.

All light died before passing through the threshold. The room beyond it— little more than a void. Was that a privacy accommodation granted by the magic of the dorm, Trey wondered, or was that Sorrel’s doing?

With a roll of his shoulders, Trey angled through the opening and immediately felt the change between the hard stone corridor and an unsteady, sandy, softness within Sorrel’s room. He looked down at his feet to see his shoes sunk a couple inches deep into the stuff.

Behind him, Cater slowed to a stop with a sound of bewilderment.

Torches flickered to life throughout the room and though the flames were the same shade of green as fire was wont to be in Diasomnia, the light they cast was comfortable— if not warm in color. This only added to the surrealness that greeted the Heartslabyul duo.

Sand, mounds of it, not only made up the entirety of the floor but covered what Trey could only assume was once furniture. It didn’t make sense. It was as though they’d been dropped into the bottom of an hourglass.

Behind them, the door clicked shut. They whirled to see Sorrel had finally revealed himself.

Clad in his ever-present green woolen poncho, a pair of gray boxers and…not much else— Sorrel’s curly mop of hair sported the frizzled, gravity-defying energy of a storm cloud. He kept his eyes downcast. They were bloodshot and only made to look further exhausted by the liner smudged around them.

With his scruffy beard and myriad of face piercings, Sorrel never truly managed to conjure the same aura of nobility that exuded from Diasomnia’s students, but now he resembled a wayward drifter moreso any student from the highly esteemed Night Raven College.

He pushed his toes into the sand, as though he could maybe dig his way out since there were, in fact, no windows in his room. His arms clutched something to his torso. A semi-translucent green slab as cracked as he was.

“Um…” Sorrel started, still not looking at them, “You can sit.”

“…Where?” Cater managed to answer. He’d been so quiet since entering the room, Trey had nearly forgotten he was there.

His question got Sorrel to blink, just now noticing his mini-desert of a living space as he looked around. “Oh.”

Sorrel lifted a hand and waved it like a music conductor before an orchestra. Around them, the sand swayed. Someone was shaking the hourglass. Then with a snap of his fingers, the sand evaporated. Just like that.

One second they were standing on dunes, the next there wasn’t a grain of sand to be found. The room was practically gleaming. It had taken days to get Heartslabyul’s garden back in order after the battle even with the whole dorm assisting and Trey was still shaking sand out of his jacket. What came so simple to Sorrel was leagues beyond Trey.

Sorrel might not have the air of a Diasomnia student, but there was no denying he had the magical skill in spades.

“Yikes on bikes,” said Cater.

Sorrel jerked his head to him, but his gaze was still too distant, “You want it back?”

“NO!” Trey and Cater said at once, startling Sorrel. They led him to his bed by his arms. Trey set the tart box on his desk as he passed, “Have you been in here since last week?”

“Off smell alone?” Cater wrinkled his nose as Sorrel plopped down on his mattress, “Buddy-Honey. You are ripe.” He started towards a tall dresser, but when he opened it, he was greeted with empty hangers and a very singed dorm uniform. “Oof.”

He set one hand on his hip and the other thoughtfully rubbed his chin, “You’re about my size, aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for him to answer, “Don’t worry, Cay-Cay’s got you covered. Split Card.”

“Heyo!” Cater #2 popped into reality with a wave. “Ooh, I’ve gotta set of really cute PJ’s.”

“Oh, I know the ones.” Cater said, “Those will do.”

“You don’t have to…” Sorrel’s protest, undercut by his own confusion at seeing his dresser empty, faltered at Trey’s hand on his shoulder.

If Trey also knew what pajamas Cater was talking about—and he was sure he did— he didn’t think Sorrel would be too happy about walking around the dorm in those, either.

A peach and cream silk set with a white rose pattern sent to Cater by his sisters. He put it on to send them a thank you picture and then never put it on again. Say what you want about him, Cater knew how to seize an opportunity.

“Unless you’re planning on finally picking up your laundry in just your underwear, I think you’d better just take the offer,” Trey said, smiling at seeing the realization click on Sorrel’s face as to why he had no clothes. Trey himself still had no idea.

Cater #2 saluted and promptly left the room as Cater made his way towards Sorrel’s vanity table.

A pause hung in the air. Sorrel went back to staring at his toes.

Trey sat beside him, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t want to walk out in my underwear,” said Sorrel.

“…I meant about the overblot.”

Sorrel shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, still holding onto his slab as though waiting for Trey to reach over and pry it out of his hands. He’d never seen it before.

“…I did say something about the overblot,” he mumbled.

“To Lilia?” Trey thought about how breezy Lilia seemed as they’d talked, not the least concerned beyond his initial skepticism of the two possibly trying to bring Sorrel into Riddle’s court as accused. While Trey knew he was particularly free-spirited, he’d seen him work as his fellow vice. Lilia, for all his eccentricity, cared for the students under his charge. “He knows you’re…you’re like this? That you’re not handling the overblot well?”

“Handling the…” Sorrel’s brows pinched in trying to gain focus. He looked washed out, his skin the luster of cardboard, “N-No. No, I don’t think he knows I was there. I haven’t seen him since before that. Wait, what are we talking about?”

“You ghosted us after Riddle overblotted.” Cater was peering into an intricately painted terracotta mug before he flipped it over and shook it for good measure. When nothing came out, he set it down on the vanity, took his magic pen, and tapped the rim a couple times. The sound of pouring water came from within the mug.

“It was a mess and a half— I get it.” He continued, picking up the mug in one hand while holding a bottle of makeup remover and a face towel in the other. “Probably the worst housewarden duel in the Heartslabyul history of like…ever, but we came out on top.”

When he walked over to them, Cater offered the mug to Sorrel with a firm, “Sip.”

Trey watched Sorrel as he did as ordered, “What were you talking about?”

Sorrel winced like he found the water hard to swallow and coughed to clear his throat, setting the mug down on the floor. “Uh…” His legs began to bounce on the balls of his feet. To his credit, it did look like he was trying to figure out how to say something.

Cater had set down the face towel beside Sorrel, unfolded it— revealing the make-up remover pads he’d tucked within— and took one. He’d dabbed make-up remover into it while Sorrel continued his stranded fish imitation before saying, “Just a guess. But this wouldn’t be about how you randomly happened to show up at our dorm just as Riddle went berserk, would it?”

Sorrel grimaced, “Uh…”

Cater tilted Sorrel’s chin in his fingers, the makeup pad hovering over his face. He had a strange little smile. “And the rats people have seen around our dorm?”

“The rats?” Trey echoed.

He’d noticed them, too.

Since late last year, Trey got glimpses of them scurrying about. Heartslabyul didn’t originally have rats so he’d assumed they’d started sneaking through the mirror entrance.

He’d put out traps around the kitchen— non-lethal ones meant to only capture since Riddle would have his head if he injured an animal under his reign— but he’d never caught anything. And most curious of all, no matter how much he checked, Trey had yet to find any sign of them scavenging through their food supply. Not a claw mark or nibble. So he stopped minding them.

Trey knew Sorrel owned a pair of pet rats, he could see their (suspiciously empty) cage from where he sat now, but it’d never occurred to him to connect Sorrel to the ones around their dorm. Judging by the increasingly guilty look on Sorrel's face, however, Trey realized he probably should have.

“I don’t understand,” he said, “What do your rats have to do with anything?”

“I was…” Sorrel started as Cater gently swiped away at his liner, “I was trying to keep an eye on things.”

“You were spying?” Trey hadn’t meant to sound scandalized, but the thought of it— well, it weirded him out a little. He glanced at Cater. He didn’t look surprised, he’d figured this part out.

“I wasn’t— Not on you.” Sorrel said quickly, closing his eyes as Cater motioned him to. “Honest. You’re the vice-housewarden. You just tended to be around.”

“Around…Around Riddle.” Trey squinted, his brain trying to put the pieces together. He had questioned why Sorrel, despite being banned from Heartslabyul, had coincidently appeared when things went critical. No one had gotten the chance to make a run for it yet— let alone warn anyone outside. In truth, it was part of why he wanted to speak to Sorrel.

If Sorrel had appeared because he’d gotten an alert from his rats, that would explain it. Strangely, Trey also figured out why Sorrel didn’t have an extra shirt to spare. He’d likely been doing his laundry and never returned for it as he made a bee-line for Heartslabyul.

What it didn’t explain was why Sorrel had been keeping such a close eye on Riddle in the first place. Unless…

“You knew Riddle was going to overblot.”

Even after Cater wadded up the pads in his fingers and tossed them into a nearby trash bin, Sorrel kept his eyes closed. “…Yeah.”

“How?” Trey pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, “Sorrel, I’d been doing nothing but keeping a close eye on Riddle since he got here and it’d never occurred to me as even a remote possibility. You spoke to him once.”

A soft huff left Sorrel, “I’d known before then.”

He took a deep breath and curled around the slab in his exhale. After another beat of silence, he said, “Sandseer.”

“Your unique magic,” Cater said. He looked down at Sorrel from where he stood leaning against one of the bed posts.

Sorrel laughed. It was so sudden, that both Trey and Cater twitched at the sound. It wasn’t the usual nervous, jittery chuckle that often peppered his speech. It was low and bitter.

“Unique magic.” Sorrel pulled himself upright, a miserable smile on his lips, “Y’know, I’ve never heard it called that until I came here. My family just calls it our gifts.” The way he said gifts made it clear that’s not how he saw them in the slightest.

“Our.” Trey said, “You said you were the only-born mage.”

It wasn’t accusatory. It was the only thing he could think to say.

The smile slid off Sorrel’s face. He never radiated the same regality often associated with Diasomnia, but in that instant, it occurred to Trey it was because Sorrel had never wanted to. “I am a Madrigal.” He said, “We get our gifts at six years old.”

“Sorta figured.” Cater’s eyes widened when Trey and Sorrel turned to look at him and waved dismissively, “I-I mean, not that part exactly. But I figured you probably had a little something hidden up your sleeve. When it comes to practical magic, you’ve always pulled ahead for someone who supposedly had no other magical experience.”

He shrugged as he finally sat down on Sorrel’s other side, “And I’ve read your fortune for you a couple times, remember? It’s always pointed at you holding back.”

“You really got a knack for it,” Sorrel said numbly.

Cater winked, “Coming from you? Not bad for Cay-Cay.” Gentleness came rarely to Cater, it suited him more than he thought it did. “Your unique magic. It’s precognition, isn’t it?”

“Funny thing.” Sorrel said devoid of humor, “I’d sworn I wouldn’t use it while I was here, but it was because you read my fortune that I thought I’d give it a shot again.”

“What?” Cater blinked.

Still refusing to let go of the green slab, Sorrel shook his palms in a dazzling motion. “It’s gone so well, I said, What’s the worst that could happen? I’ll luck out this time.” He snorted, shaking his head. He swallowed thickly. Within a few blinks, his eyes turned glossy, “I just wanted to see the upcoming Spelldrive scores…”

“You’d tried to warn Riddle,” Trey said as it dawned on him, “That’s why he exploded on you, he must’ve thought—“

“No.” The word was hoarse with dread. Sorrel squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head with so much despair, like he regretted speaking up, but he said “I did warn him, but that’s not…”

“But—“

“I need you to understand.” Sorrel turned to him. The desperation in his stare was so intense it jolted an unfamiliar shiver of fear in Trey, “I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never been wrong before. I…I’ve tried to change things before they happen and it never works.”

Sorrel shot up from the bed before Trey and Cater could grab him— for a second, Trey thought he’d make a bolt for the door— but he turned to face them. His chest heaved, he was gripping onto his slab so tightly his knuckles paled. Tears fell down his cheeks, “I need you to understand. I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know it’d end up this way. Just please understand I wouldn’t have tried if I’d known.”

“Tried to what, Sorrel?” Trey spoke in the same hushed tone he would a frightened animal.

“I’ve never been wrong.” A sob shattered out of Sorrel, on instinct, he covered his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked so in pain and even worse, angry about it. “Riddle wouldn’t listen, but I thought if I stopped him before it could happen…I couldn’t go through with it.” He pulled in air with a hiss. “I couldn’t do it.”

Trey had never gotten the real reason why Riddle had banned Sorrel from their dorm. Riddle had ranted and raved about Sorrel, how he’d tried to threaten him. That had always seemed strange to Trey. Sorrel? Threatening someone? It didn’t sound like him.

He was a bit of an oddball, sure. A little unintentionally creepy at times, especially when he stuck to the shadows with his hood up, and he had a habit of sneaking up on people. He could be blunt and his jokes didn’t always land. But it took all of five minutes chatting with the guy to realize he was perfectly harmless.

Trey wasn’t sure how it’d happened, but Sorrel had become one of his first friends in NRC and if there was something he knew was deeply true about Sorrel— is that he had an instinct to aid those around him. People often mistook Trey for the kind to look out for others out of sheer goodwill, but if there was anyone with any real sense of community in this school, it was Sorrel Madrigal.

So he’d thought perhaps Sorrel had simply made a joke that Riddle took horribly wrong. It wasn’t the first time a quip sailed over his head and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. And when he’d asked Sorrel later on, he’d said the same thing. He’d made a bad joke.

It’d taken a lot of convincing on Trey’s part to talk Riddle from active aggression to stewing anger, but in the end, Riddle conceded and understood Sorrel just had a rather strong case of Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome. This didn’t lift Sorrel’s ban, but at the least, it wouldn’t get him collared so long as he kept his distance.

The fear in Sorrel’s eyes never left, though. Trey had figured Riddle’s rage had simply scared him half to death, but he’d noticed Sorrel had changed since then.

Sorrel had always been big on superstitions, but over the next several months it became almost a compulsive, neurotic need to avoid every crack he encountered. Knock on wood wherever he passed. Throw salt over his shoulder every so often from the pouch he carried everywhere. He jingled with his ever-growing collection of lucky charms on his person.

Trey had known something was off, but in typical Trey Clover fashion— he’d simply hoped it’d resolve itself if he didn’t push it.

Fat good that did him.

One friend nearly died and almost took half the dorm with him and the other had been driving himself insane with the guilt of contemplating murder.

“But things turned out alright.” Trey ventured, because— really— what else could he say? “We’re fine. We’re all fine.”

Sorrel had reigned himself in. He hunched down on the floor and pulled his hood over his head, using the cloth to dab at his face. “That’s what I don’t get.”

Finally, he pulled the slab away from himself and turned it to them to see its face. This also allowed Trey to see the tattoo on Sorrel’s chest. He wasn’t aware he had one. A glowing candle on his upper sternum and two hands hovering over its flame, shielding it.

The slab was even more curious. It looked made of sea glass and it was far more than cracked. It looked like it’d been shattered outright and then painstakingly glued back together. Floating within the glass was a 3D image, not unlike those laser-etched crystal cubes often sold in souvenir shops.

Except, this wasn’t a delicate rose or a horse memorialized mid-gallop. What came through from within the glass was the overblot battle— and everything had gone wrong.

Ace hadn’t been spared by the rose trees. Falling spears of ink did away with Deuce and Cater. Trey’s ‘Doodle Suit’ hadn’t managed to hold out for long enough judging from the collar around his neck— but the flames engulfing him were the bigger concern.

At the center of this morbid collage was Riddle. What was left of him, anyway. The Phantom had overtaken him completely.

Trey rubbed his thumb between his brows. That was certainly going to make its home behind his eyelids for a while.

“This was my original vision,” Sorrel said, buffing his poncho over the glass as if he were to hang it for posterity, “Not exactly something you talk about over lunch.”

Cater choked, “Dude? Have a little respect for me, I’m dead.”

Sorrel’s eyes flicked up to them before landing back down on the vision slab. He seemed to find it easier to look at their corpses than their live counterparts. “Sorry.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.“ Trey tore his eyes away from the glass, “Original vision. You had another one.”

“No,” Sorrel said, “This one changed.”

He tilted the slab to a different angle and the wretched etchings within it shifted. The image now shown through the glass was far more familiar to Trey. It was how things had happened.

It was Riddle, his head on Trey’s lap as he cried. Around them stood— all perfectly alive, healthy, and not the least bit shish-kebabed— Ace, Deuce, and Cater. Three more figures stood with them, absent from the first vision. Sorrel and the Ramshackle Duo. Gia and Grim.

Trey suspected Sorrel hadn’t made it to the original battle, but the other two…had they somehow survived in the first variation? Or was there simply not enough space in the glass?

“I’ve never had a vision do this before.” Sorrel tilted the slab back and forth, back and forth— mesmerized, until Cater finally put his hand on it to make it stop. Sorrel coughed, “My visions, they’re always set. So I…I tried to...”

“Sorrel,” Trey said, “Nobody would know what they’d do if they were in your shoes.”

The seer dropped his head.

At only eighteen, he was an early grayer. Silvery strands shimmered within the rest of his dark hair. He’d said it was hereditary, his mother had gone entirely gray before Sorrel had any real memory of her before then.

But Trey wondered.

“Okay, but…” The color had returned to Cater’s face, but despite his quip from earlier, he still looked a little shaken, “What…happened? We’re all still alive, not that I’m complaining, obvi— but, if you’re never wrong and yet we’re still breathing…something isn’t adding up here.”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out,” Sorrel leaped on the question, relieved to jump on the opportunity to do something about it rather than continue to wallow. He stretched out, reaching underneath his bed between Trey and Cater’s feet. “Ever since we, y’know, didn’t die, I’ve been in here looking into what did this. I might have a theory, you’ll think I’m crazy.”

He glanced up at them. “…Uh. Crazi-er. Crazier.”

Clearing his throat, Sorrel continued, “I’ve never been able to cause a change in my visions. If anything it always seemed like whatever I tried to do only cemented the outcome. So, I know it wasn’t me. And since I hadn’t looked at this vision since I tried to…talk…with Riddle, I didn’t notice when it’d given me this new ending. Did it show up after everything unfolded to reflect the events? Had it changed before then? I just don’t know.”

With a heavy sigh as he pulled back with another vision slab from under his bed frame, he said, “So…I figured why not give this another go.”

Sorrel tapped on the surface of this new slab. Unlike the first one, it was in perfect condition.

“Please tell me you actually got to see the scores for the next Spelldrive tournament this time.” Cater pleaded through a grimace.

“Uh…” Sorrel tilted his head as he squinted at the slab, “Maybe?”

“Maybe?” Trey and Cater chorused.

Trey took the slab from Sorrel’s outstretched hand.

‘Fuzzy’ was the first word to pop into his mind. This slab had, like the first vision, not decided on a single future to show. However, this one was a fan of ‘The More, The Merrier’ approach. There were so many images stacked one on top of the other, it was hard to parcel out where one scene began and the other ended. Trey thought he caught a couple of hazy faces, quite a few beastmen from his class, like Leona Kingscholar. The sophomore that often hung around him as well, Ruggie.

A single figure stuck out through the chaos of the vision soup—still blurry, but wholly recognizable no matter what angle he held the glass in.

“…Gia?” Trey looked at Sorrel for an explanation.

Sorrel pointed at his first vision slab, “He wasn’t in the first vision either, and then suddenly, poof. He’s in the next one.”

“But Gigi’s totally magicless.” Cater played with one of the loose strands of hair framing his face, “What could he— Wait, hold on.”

He pressed his fingers on the edge of the glass, slowly adjusting the tilt in Trey’s hands, a sudden severity sharpening the green in his eyes.

“Cater?”

He paused his search, slowly lifting his hand to tell Trey to hold still, “There.”

Trey scanned the slab, trying to see what Cater saw, “What?”

Cater tapped somewhere in the corner left, “Spelldrive scoreboard.”

Sorrel perked up on his knees, trying to see, “Where?”

“Guys, can we focus?” Trey pulled the slab away from them, ignoring their protests, “Besides, it’s not like we need foresight to know who’s winning the tournament. We’re sitting in his dorm.”

Sorrel shrugged, “Hey man if you want Malleus on your team, you can have him. I’d like to play in an interdorm tournament at least once before I graduate.”

“Would he have to wear our uniform or would we all have to match his?” Cater held his phone as if he were ready to snap the mental photo into existence with it, “Either way, it’d make a great post.”

While Trey had meant to get the conversation back on track, the casualness with which they’d fallen back relieved him. He’d been beginning to think he wouldn’t have anything like this again. Silly as it was, he missed the days when he could just sit and chat about anything with Sorrel and Cater.

“Digressing,” he pressed, “Cater’s right. Gia has no magic to speak of, how could he be messing up yours?”

“It’s important for you guys to understand that my gift only gives me glimpses into future events. I don’t control them.” Sorrel yawned into his fist, plopping back down on the floor. “He’s not messing up my magic. I’m still getting visions, it’s just nothing’s for certain when he’s involved.”

“That…is terrifying,” Trey admitted.

“Sorta,” Sorrel agreed, “Not in the ways you’re probably thinking, though. This…Gia. I don’t know the specifics of it, but he’s not from our world, right? The Magic Mirror pulled him out of someplace else.”

Cater hummed, “Gigi’s a tough little nut. I’ve asked ADeuce about him since they seem to be the only ones he speaks a word to and what little they’ve pulled out of him matches up with that.”

“I think…” Sorrel looked up at the ceiling as if someone had written the answers there, “I mean, this is the best I got, but—I think Fate just doesn’t know what to do with him. It’s like…you’ve got this party, yeah? You’ve got your guest list and your itinerary. You’ve got everything planned down to the millisecond and then…there’s just some extra guy you had no plan for showing up last minute. What do you do with them?”

Strange as the analogy was and as much as Trey never bought into the concept of fate, it did give the idea enough traction for him to wrap his head around. Whether he was right or not, they couldn’t know, but as Sorrel said, it’s the best he’s got. Trey said, “I guess if you suddenly throw in an extra variable that was in no way meant to be there, there’s a space being filled that didn’t exist. Would make sense if things got thrown through a loop.”

“Is anyone starting to feel like this is totally beyond our pay grade?” Cater said, scrolling through Magicam. Trey idly watched as Cater swiped his thumb over his screen and noticed he wasn’t liking anything, “Like, okay. We’ve got a potentially reality-shattering entity in our midst. What does that mean for us? More importantly, what are we supposed to do about it?”

No one answered.

The silence had gone awkward until Cater spoke again, “Look, all this aside, there is something I’ve been wondering about.” He took his gaze off his phone– not that he’d been looking at it to begin with– and set it on Sorrel, “If you really thought we were gonna die, why’d you stay?”

Sorrel’s mouth opened, but only made a weak sound. He swallowed, eyes darting briefly to Trey, then back to the slab in his hands. He closed his eyes. A resigned sigh sagged his shoulders, at last he looked at them and smiled something hollow. “The people of my town are scared of me. Every single one of them. Most find it easier to pretend I’m paint on the wall when I’m in the room so long as they don’t look me in the eye. I never thought I’d have the miracle of having friends again.”

He blinked slowly, his palm reaching to rub at the candle on his chest, “I don’t like the way a lot of things are run where I’m from, but if there’s something that’s been drilled into me since I was a kid it’s that we protect our miracles with everything we got.”

Trey started to say something, but with a rattling BANG that caused all three of them to nearly jump out of their seat, Cater #2 walked through the door holding the peach-and-roses pajama set at arm’s length like he was afraid it’d bite him.

“Special Cay-Cay Delivery-Round-Two-Slash-Cleaning-Service!” He said, “I found your clothes, dude, I think something was growing out of them. But no worries, I ran into Ruggie along the way and he’s taking care of it.”

Cater sprang up from the bed, “Oh, lucky! That dude really knows how to make your clothes smell fresh for weeks if you pay the price. Four out of Four Diamond Approval Rating!” He breezed past Sorrel on the way to his copy.

Sorrel ran his fingers through his hair before pulling his hoodie further down his head, blinking hard. When he noticed Trey looking at him, he mouthed– Tired.

Trey offered him a smile and extended his hand towards him.

Sorrel– with his early grays and tired eyes and strange tattoo and scruffy beard– looked at him with the same timid hope of a boy being asked to play.

“C’mon,” said Trey, “We need to get you clean yesterday.”

Sorrel snorted a laugh as he took his hand and let Trey pull him up to his feet, “That tart box you brought in..?”

“Chocolate raspberry.” Trey took Sorrel’s slab and stacked it on top of his over the bed.

Sorrel tried to step around Trey to grab them, but Trey matched his step.

“After you take a bath.”

Sorrel groaned, suddenly feeling a lot better.

Trey chuckled and glanced at where Cater was still chatting with himself before murmuring, “Cater’s just…doing his usual, but I know your sentiment means a lot…as it does to me.”

Sorrel’s eyes widened so much that Trey could see they were a kind of coffee brown instead of their usual apparent black. He fiddled with the sleeves of his poncho, “...That’s really open of you.”

“When you almost lose two of your best friends because you weren’t open enough…you start wondering if you deserve the title.”

It was the first sincere grin he’d seen on Sorrel in almost a year.

It didn’t last that long.

“Lookie, lookie~” Cater and Cater #2 approached him holding the pajama set towards him, “I hear this color really brightens up your skin tone.”

“Um–” Sorrel stepped back only to bump into Trey, “I mean, I need a bath. A long one. My laundry’ll be ready by then, right?”

“Ruggie said he might not have it for you until tomorrow,” said one of the Caters.

Sorrel looked up at Trey for help, but he just shrugged.

“Go on,” he said, “Try it on, make sure it fits first.”

“Okay, wait a minute–”

What Sorrel said next was drowned out by the Caters hauling him off as Trey laughed.

While one Cater played tug-of-war with Sorrel’s poncho and the other slid on a pants leg onto Sorrel’s ankle, Trey turned to the slabs on the bed. He picked up the one with Riddle, tilting it back and forth like Sorrel had, frowning thoughtfully. Then with a huff, he slid both visions under Sorrel’s bed.

Sorrel could use a break from looking at the past as much as he did the future. Enough maybes and what-ifs for the time being. He could stand to be in the now.

And Trey wouldn’t mind standing with him, too.

tag list:

@cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @simons-twsted-children @tixdixl @blithesharem @thehollowwriter

@jovieinramshackle @theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch @twistedwonderlandshenanigans

@kimikitti @felix-cant-ski (dm to be added)

#hi not dead ive just been really distracted lately #twst #twst oc #trey clover #cater diamond #trey clover x oc #cater diamond x oc #diasomnia oc #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland #shout out to tixdixl for giving me their ship name #cards of fate #sorrel madrigal #gar’s art #gar’s ocs #gar’s writing #oathofoaks

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mizuki-herazaki · 17 days

Text

TWST how the characters say happy birthday to MC part 5 (Final)

Heyy so this is the last part! Yuu had a long day and its coming to an end but I do hope Yuu enjoyed it :) part 1

Jamil Viper

Yuu are carried to scarabia by the Octavinelle and at the entrance waited Jamil

“We brought the shrimpy~” Floyd says happily.

Jamil crosses his arms and gives a smile “Wonderful! You three may head inside now. Appreciated the help”

Floyd puts Yuu down hesitantly, to go inside, and you slowly open your eyes to see where you are.

“S-Scarabia!?” You shake your head a bit in shock and realizing you really are in a safe place you snap out of your daze “Hey Jamil! Soooo~ what’s with the kidnapping?” you ask.

“What kidnapping? I simply asked them to get you here at all costs” He replies with a simple smile.

You squint your eyes at him a bit “Right~ definitely not kidnapping” you say unconvinced.

Jamil brushes your statement off “whatever. Anyway Happy Birthday Yuu! Glad you can make it” He says with a genuine tone.

You smile back brightly “Thanks JamJamz!”

Jamil instantly sighs with a frown “Please. Never use that name in front of Kalim”.

“Hmm I’ll think about it!” You say jokingly but get a daggered glare in return. “Joking Joking” you say quickly which in turn makes Jamil roll his eyes.

With a sigh Jamil smiles again and speaks “Anyways, I took it upon myself to make all of your favorite dishes today! I hid some extra for after festivities, and it has wonderfully already been poison tested by many people!” he explained with a smirk.

“Festivities? People?” Yuu question

Still smiling he extends his hand to the big arch doors ahead “Walk past those doors and you’ll see”

Kalim (+ bonus)

Yuu walk through the doors and as you do confetti and glitter is immediately falling from everywhere as well as scattered balloons. There are animals roaming about and a huge buffett. Standing all together is everyone that Yuu know as well as other students of the school as they all shout in unison “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” as loud as they can. Kalim flies over on his magic carpet towards Yuu.

“Our Wonderful Guest Of Honor Has Arrived!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY YUU!!!” Kalim shouts as he stretches his hand for you to get on the carpet. You accept and up You two go into the starry sky and float back down to the others.

“Kalim, you planned this?!” You ask in shock.

“Mhm!! But of course it was Jamil's idea to keep it a secret, he also planned the little details and got Ignihyde, Octavinelle, and Lillia to help, others helped too, It was a collective effort!” Kalim said happily with his cheery smile, “NOW IT’S TIME TO PARTY TILL SUNRISE!!!” he shouts.

Deuce and Ace are playing the set up games

Grim is at the buffet

Cater is recording and taking pictures of EVERYTHING (Obvi with the birthday bestie)

Trey and Jamil are talking about tactics on food (Might have started a cooking contest)

Leona is relaxing at the fountain with Ruggie bringing him food

Jack is challenging Sebek

Silver is sleeping amongst all the noise

Rook and Vil are giving people free makeovers (makeup only)

Epel somehow got stuck talking to Jade about mushrooms

Floyd is dancing, having fun with the occasional harassment of riddle

Azul is -Scamming- negotiating with students

Idia is sitting in a corner shy as Ortho tries to beckon him out

Malleus and Lilia are up above watching everyone.

Obviously a big group photo before the party ends. Yuu opened tons (and I mean tons) of presents. And the party quite literally went until sunrise.

Happy Birthday (Your name)

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ryuichirou · 2 months

Note

hm what do you think would make the twst cast cringe during sex, and would it kill their mood? (like bad dirty talk or pet names)

Anon! Sorry for such a late reply. Another very interesting but also weirdly-difficult-to-think-about ask lol

I feel like it should’ve been more of a silly post about how twst boys hate when someone didn’t cut their fingernails before sex, but ended up talking about turn-offs in general... I hope it still works as a reply for your prompt.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

Riddle – it isn’t really about cringe, but I feel like he would be very anxious about getting caught or being seen. It could ruin his mood, sometimes it even could send the person he is with flying out of the window, but after a certain point his arousal will make him less sensitive to the sound of steps... but that’s also due to the fact that he himself gets pretty loud.

Ace – awkward sounds, like when the smooch is too loud or the way the bodies plop together sound funny or his own breathing sounds too weird; he cringes a lot, to be honest, but really doesn’t want it to kill his mood. It would suck to stop everything after an awkward sound; what if it will make you “the mouth fart guy” forever?? So Ace cringes, but pushes through the cringe... and forgets about it pretty easily.

Deuce – pretty similar to Ace, but he gets too embarrassed and stunned to do anything whenever he does anything awkward. So he is entirely at his partner’s mercy... Jack is good because he just acts like he didn’t notice anything, and Ace is either good because he decides to push through, or very bad because sometimes he mocks poor Deuce... and if that happens, the mood is instantly killed :(

Trey – even though he’s more experienced and older than these two (wow by two whole years), he also cringes a lot, but his biggest fear is to stumble on his words during the dirty talk. Not a lot of things his partner does could make him cringe, but if he tries to be sexy once and a while and suddenly can’t pronounce a word? He won’t stop of course, but in his head he’ll be screaming in agony the entire time. If he gets teased for that, he’ll scream in his head even louder...

Cater – sometimes he gets overly concerned with how he looks, or rather, how he is perceived. He doesn’t like leaning too deeply into cuteness and playfulness during sex, but if he suddenly starts acting “out of character” and his partner comments on how mature he looks or how different he feels, it really might ruin Cater’s mood... it’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear!

Leona – he might not look like it, but if he does something embarrassing (just like the previous boys: saying the wrong thing, making a sound with his mouth) or starts to enjoy sex too visibly (by purring or arching his back) and his partner comments on it, the cringe will overcome Leona, and there will be no sex. He’ll act as if he just lost all interest all of a sudden and pretends to fall asleep. Wait, maybe this is exactly what he looks like...

Ruggie – not a whole lot? He’ll do anything and he is pretty good at keeping his “mood” intact, but also he doesn’t like it when sex is overly complicated. He doesn’t like roleplay, rules, a lot of extra steps; even thinking about it makes him cringe, to be honest. What happened to a good ol’ “just fuck me already”?

Jack – he is a tsundere, so he cringes a lot at his own reactions, when his partner is commenting on it. For example, if Vil tells him that he’s wagging his tail, he’ll get embarrassed and defensive. If Deuce sighs in surprise because he felt a fat hot drop of saliva on his face, Jack will get both apologetic and mad at himself. But that doesn’t kill his mood, fortunately...

Azul – he hates being mocked and he hates feeling like he’s underperforming. So he is very anxious and honestly a nasty bitch when it comes to watching his partner’s reaction: Azul really wants him to react a certain way. What’s good (or is it?) is that Azul’s own paranoia rarely kills his mood; if anything, it makes him even more stubbornly try to make sure that he will have the best sex possible because he did all the right things and not a single wrong thing ever.

Jade – the biggest turn off for both of the tweels is boredom; whatever the circumstances, if the partner they’re touching suddenly starts feeling dull and uninteresting, they cringe because they feel like they’re wasting their time. Jade specifically, though, really doesn’t like it when his partner doesn’t react to his comments and any actions in addition to fucking. You can’t enjoy Jade’s dick and ignore his remarks about yourself.

Floyd – one day he is okay with stuff, the other day it kills his mood. Sometimes his mood just dies on its own and he changes his mind a moment before pushing his dick into some guy’s butt. Sometimes he even cringes at a guy but gets a desire to fuck him even harder because of that... I guess it’s all about balance for Floyd: for example, he loves when Riddle is acting very angry at him and tries to make it seem like he doesn’t like it, but if Riddle just keeps repeating the same thing, Floyd ditches him and leaves.

Kalim – I feel like the only thing that could kill Kalim’s mood is if he sees that his partner is not enjoying himself, and he might not even notice it in time, too... But when it comes to cringe, I don’t think he would cringe at anything either he or his partner does. He doesn’t get some stuff, he doesn’t like some practices, but if there is an awkward misunderstanding, he’ll just laugh about it <3 (as if that wouldn’t kill the mood even more)

Jamil – he is even more anxious about his surroundings than Riddle and never fully relaxes, but he also sometimes (depending on circumstances and whom he is with) cringes when his partner suddenly brings feelings into what they’re doing. He hates sudden love confessions because he: 1) doesn’t believe them and thinks that this is the guy’s dick talking; 2) can’t react appropriately while he has a dick up his butt. He also cringes at Azul any time he opens his mouth... well... actually, at Kalim too. Jamil never stops cringing, huh...

Vil – he is forgiving about a lot of things, but very strict about a lot of other things. Body odour, bad fingernails, cheesiness, bad dirty talk and petnames, the word “daddy”, when someone is trying too hard to impress him, when someone is trying to force roleplay on him while clearly not understanding how it works... honestly, a lot of stuff that Vil hates is about his partner presenting himself in a way that’s clearly not true to who they are. Plus body odour. Although that depends on what kind of body odour it is.

Rook – he doesn’t cringe. This man never cringes. And his mood is unkillable because he is always horny. One might even say, his mood is immortal. The worst thing that might happen is that the atmosphere suddenly shifts and he is kind of forced to stop by the circumstances... even then, he’ll ready to dive back and continue at any given moment. Rook is always ready!

Epel – in theory, a lot of things could make him cringe. Anything that is too lovey-dovey is horrible to even imagine, he starts grinding his teeth even thinking about confessing his love to someone during an orgasm, or kissing someone down there; the entirety of dirty talk sound like the worst thing ever to Epel too. But once he gets horny, he gets “too silly” to think about these things and does anything that feels good, so pretty much anything in general. But if he gets brought back to “reality” by something, he might suddenly get pre-nut clarity (worse than post-nut clarity) and get too embarrassed to continue.

Idia – anything! The guy is terrified of physical closeness, intimacy and vulnerability, so even when he is very aroused he won’t stop cringing at every single thing that doesn’t sound or look right. Even if everything is perfect, he’ll cringe at how awful he must look right now, since he’s opening his mouth so much and could feel his eyes rolling back. If he hears himself moan, he’ll die of cringe right there. It doesn’t kill his mood completely, but his troubles with his mood are constant...

Ortho – nothing! And this counts for both real!Ortho and AI!Ortho: if Ortho decided to have sex, he’ll have sex! If something stupid happens, he’ll just laugh at it and continue; if the dirty talk sounds cringy, he’ll say that it’s pretty cringy, but still continue. Nothing could break his spirit. It’s honestly very inspiring.

Lilia – a biiit similar to Rook; nothing that he does himself could ever make him cringe, and he doesn’t care about a lot of stuff that could break these young boys’ spirits in bed, but every now and then (albeit very rarely) Lilia pushes his partner too far, and the mood shifts from playfully dangerous/mean to genuinely scared/upset/not sexy anymore, and Lilia hates that. He usually leaves when it happens... but sometimes he does bother to give it a second chance~

Silver – honestly? I can’t think of anything. He is pretty used to sex, he is not judgmental at all, and if he does anything he considers to be wrong, he’ll apologise (needlessly) and continue. I don’t think Silver is capable of cringing during sex... but if he is demanded to do dirty talk, he’ll get pretty insecure. If he starts overthinking it, he might lose his boner...

Sebek – his own inadequacy, i.e. if he can see that he doesn’t perform well by his partner’s boredom or disappointed face. Depending on whom he is with, he’ll either get angry (and more aroused) or more eager to please (and more aroused), so he won’t lose “the mood”, but it’s definitely something that makes him very paranoid. He wishes he could practice more..!

Malleus – dirty talk doesn’t always work on him, because he gets confused by it. He doesn’t understand the word “daddy”, he doesn’t like getting asked questions with obvious answers (“do you like it?”); I guess Malleus needs a special kind of dirty talk. It’s not like he cringes, but he gets too confused and doesn’t feel like continuing anymore after a certain point. He also hates hearing about things he missed out on or discussing other people in bed.

#replies #headcanons

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

Text

Riddle, Vil: A Family Affair

Riddle’s vignettes are so… interesting?? We can see how he’s trying to take small steps to have more agency. I like to think that, very slowly, he’s coming into his own as a young man, an entity separate from his mother.

It’s nice that Riddle’s Groovy shows him in a fun pose. You’d think that someone as strict as him wouldn’t want to fly abnormally, but you can tell it's a manner that's unique to him. Riddle may be upside down like Floyd is in his own Broomquet Groovy, but you can tell that there is a marked difference between the two. Riddle’s holding bis broom in a much more secure way, which is reflective of his personality, whereas Floyd is much more precarious in his pose. It reflects their personalities well!

And now we wait for Jamil’s Birthday Platinum Jacket SSR… 👀

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

“What do you want to do in the coming year?”

Riddle cleared his throat and stood straight as he provided his reply. He was the model student, interviewee... and, of course, birthday boy. "I would like to expand my culinary knowledge."

Vil arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Judging by your prompt response, I take it that you studied the interview questions and prepared suitable answers for them in advance. How like you--but what a surprise that you have a goal that isn't related to school. You're infamous for your tenacity in that regard."

"I-I am capable outside of the realm of academics too!" Riddle hastily said with a frown. “… Though I admit I may be lacking in some departments. That is precisely why I would like to dedicate time and energy to strengthening my areas of weakness.”

"Oh, please. You can't possibly be as nightmarish at cooking as..." Vil paused, shuddering, "Lilia is."

The birthday boy paled at the mention of his senior. Lilia, who left kitchens looking like a natural disaster had torn through an active warzone. Lilia, who tossed in everything under the sink and then some. Lilia, who was known across campus for all manner of food borne illnesses and poisonings.

"Surely not!!" Riddle insisted. "I know how to read and follow a recipe! The issue lies in flexibility. Trey is able to make an entire meal just from leftovers, but I wouldn't be able to do the same."

"My, if you're concerned about food waste, couldn't you simply ask Trey to teach you? I'm certain he wouldn't refuse you. That man is too nice for his own good."

"Perhaps that's true. But even so... this is a skill I'd like to learn for myself. I don't want to become overly reliant on others' strength. What I must cultivate first and foremost is my own. To that end, I plan on enrolling in more Master Chef courses during my time at NRC. There are many styles of cooking I've yet to master. For example, Trey prepares meals that are very different from that of my mother."

"How so?"

"Well..." Riddle hesitated. The way he gnawed at his lower lip reminded Vil of an anxious rabbit--a far cry from the self-assured dorm leader he knew Riddle as.

"Mother cooks with nutrition as her priority. She is very health conscious and goes out of her way to ensure that I am eating what I need. When I am studying at home, she brews tea to drink. It's rare that my entire family comes together for a meal, given that we're all busy.

"Meanwhile, Trey's food is... I can't quite put a finger on it, but it's flavorful and fun, yet balanced. The experiences are unique from my time at home. Sometimes it's something warm, hearty, and comforting like hamburger steak. Sometimes it's something hopelessly indulgent and loaded with sugar, like tarts decorated with jewel-like fruits."

"Your eyes are shining." Vil smirked. "You enjoy his cooking that much?"

"I don't understand it myself," Riddle replied, scrunching his brows. "When Trey cooks, people are lured by the smell and gather around the table, wanting to join for the meal. It happened the other day when I was to eat with him and Cater. Ace and Deuce barged in on us, and... well, I suppose it wasn't all bad. We had a delightful conversation over lunch. There's something magical about that."

"There is a different feeling to eating with others than alone," Vil agreed with a slight nod. "My father and I can hardly align our schedules, so it's rare that we can sit down and eat together. Then again, maybe it's that rarity that makes us appreciate those moments all the more."

"That's right. It's a special spell that I realized I can't reproduce. Just memorizing the recipes and recreating them... that alone isn't enough."

"Fufufu, so you want to master that kind of 'magic'. That's surprisingly cute of you."

"N-No, you're mistaken! While it's true that cooking would come in handy for entertaining guests, it'd primarily be for self-sufficiency. After all, it's not as though I can always ask Trey or my mother to cook for me." Riddle shifted from one foot to another. "Someday, I'll have to move out of my dorm as well as my house, and live independently as a fine adult."

"Yes, cooking is an essential skill for that distant future. Have you already started on making those arrangements?"

"Er, not yet. I've been looking into it, but to actually take those first physical steps is... that is, I don't know how my mother would react."

"She sounds very stern from what you've told me of her. However, every mother must let her child go eventually."

"Maybe so, but I have never known my mother to back down from her beliefs. She's... not a woman you want to challenge." Riddle's voice strained at the final word. It was the lightest way he could put it, too afraid to acknowledge the whole truth. "I've tried to get her to hear me out, but..."

"If you can't draw that line in the sand now, then when? It will only make things more difficult for you when you start live alone."

"I'm fully aware of that." He couldn't bring himself to say more.

Vil sighed, bringing a hand to his temple. "... Listen, Riddle. Think of life as a stage, and you as the actor upon it. Worried about how the audience will react to your performance, working tirelessly to hone your craft.

“When the lights dim and the cameras turn off, the staff and the audience leave the theatre. You’ll be left only with your own thoughts. The onlookers may have one impression of you—but when the curtains fall, so long as you are proud of who you are away from the public eye, that, I think, is a sign of true maturity.

“If it’s courage and confidence that you seek, then you must work toward it. Never let your eyes stray from it. Even should the world deprive you of a happy ending, you must claw for it, believing that, someday, it will be yours.”

“Vil-senpai… Is this your way of encouraging me to see my goals through to the very end?”

His upperclassman scoffed. Thin, soft—like a rose petal, almost imperceptible as it passed upon a breeze.

“Think of it what your will. I merely speak from my own experience,” Vil replied. “We are both prideful NRC students at our very cores. Standing strong on our own two feet is something we all desire. That we can one day recognize that dream… It goes for us all.”

“Recognizing a dream, hm?”

How curious. I wondered not too long ago if it was really possible. Now, here I am, taking those first, small baby steps. A world where I can think for myself, live by my own rules… It sounds like a wonderland within my reach.

Soon, but not yet.

“… One day,” Riddle whispered to himself. “One day, I’ll be the person I want to be.”

Not the person I’m told to be.

A palm came against his back—a pat from Vil. “Really, I thought the dorm leader of Heartslabyul would know better than to mumble. You’re usually so good at barking at your card soldiers. Do remember to speak up—now, and forevermore.”

“I don’t recall asking for your advice.” Riddle brushed off his touch, stepping forward with his broom at the ready. Still, he chuckled. “… But yes, I will work on gathering my courage so that I may be comfortable leaving the nest. Thank you for your concern, senpai.”

“Ara, what cheek.” Vil tossed his golden locks. “If I’m to share the stage with you, then of course your skills must be on par with mine. Don’t you dare disappoint me, understood?”

“Hmph, when have I ever been the type to fall short of meeting expectations? Observe.”

Riddle confidently mounted his broom, assuming the position he had practiced many times over. There was a diagram of this exact pose in the mountain of textbooks he had in his dorm room. Straddling the handle between the legs, arms straight and steady, one hand gripped over the other, elbows locked.

He could have been the textbook diagram himself.

When Riddle looked up, he saw the vast sky, sunlight spilling across the sea that surrounded the island. Sunset on its way to soon paint the day with darkness.

The sky… It connects many different places and people. The future is stretching out before me, chalk full of possibilities.

Then… I can try, can I? To soar, to break free. Just this once…!!

Riddle’s hold on his broom tightened.

He called forth his magic, letting it pool around him in a shower of scarlet sparkles. The power collected, coalescing as a tingling warmth dancing across his skin, until he at last unleashed it in one burst. Like a cap popped off on a bottle.

Riddle buckled off, propelling into the air in a corkscrew motion. Rose petals fell free from his bouquet, perfuming the summer sky with them.

“Whew…!”

He stopped spinning, flying forward upside down. The world shifted, shapes and colors rearranging into a new perspective. His head and vision spun, seemingly colliding all of his senses against one another.

A moment or two later, and they had rattled neatly into place.

Riddle looked again, taking it all in. Rich gold dappling the grand spires of Night Raven College, the honeyed aroma of roses, the wind from on high tickling his lashes. The delicious freedom of flying freely.

“… Hah.”

Who knew it could taste so sweet?

#twst #twisted wonderland #Riddle Rosehearts #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #Vil Schoenheit #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #Riddle birthday takeover #something no one asked for

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