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1kook · 3 years

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BORN SINNER III

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summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning.

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver.

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else.

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work.

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone.

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow.

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again.

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears.

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards.

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning.

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good.

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life.

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you.

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands.

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word.

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him.

But still.

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess.

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning.

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience.

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned.

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants.

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet.

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord.

But he’s scared.

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you.

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character.

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t.

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made.

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors.

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs.

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up.

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.”

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you.

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease.

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean.

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes.

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead.

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness.

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there.

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything.

“__?” he says before he can stop himself.

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you.

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin.

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?”

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained.

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind.

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words.

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before.

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch.

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you.

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him. With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.)

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I’m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh.

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed.

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that?

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so.

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not.

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.”

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.”

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place.

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion.

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later.

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car.

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his.

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.”

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly.

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out.

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different.

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you.

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you.

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity.

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up.

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his.

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content.

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you.

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that.

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long.

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm.

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back.

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open.

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat.

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again.

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?”

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips.

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again.

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now.

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once.

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in.

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t.

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms.

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?”

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough.

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist.

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him.

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl.

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple.

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror.

The sight of him is… weird to say the least.

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface.

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down.

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side.

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck.

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day.

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close.

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday.

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips.

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself.

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him.

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him.

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do… things.”

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space.

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin.

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you.

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it.

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress.

It felt good.

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boydiisaster · 3 years

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It's so awesome there's blogs like yours out there trying to provide content for GN and Male fans. It's so hard to find anything even GN, and as a nonbinary person I just want you to know how much it's appreciated! If you're okay with taking requests right now, I have an Obey Me one? Do you have any headcanons on a poly/throuple relationship between a GN MC, Satan, and Solomon? Those two are surprisingly good friends in canon and alike in a lot of ways, I love them both so much!

throuple satan and solomon headcanons

reader: gender neutral, they/them pronouns

tw/cw: a bit of spoilers and fighting/blood mentions

author's note: AWW YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CRY YOU'RE SO NICE, ANON :,) i'm trying my hardest to provide more content for other male and gender neutral readers out there, so i really hope that what i write is enjoyable for yall <33 also i haven't the slightest idea of satan and solomon's canon relationship because i'm only at like lesson 30 smth and don't keep up with my messages so i just pulled most of their dynamic for this out of my ass ( ._.)

It was like a cat just met a dog when Satan and Solomon started dating. They have similarities, sure, but whereas Satan is cold and calculated with his spells, plans, and pranks, it's as if Solomon doesn't think. Like, ever.

How was someone so smart so insufferably stupid at the same time? It's as if Satan is his babysitter more than he's his boyfriend.

Oh god and when Solomon ropes you into doing something with him-

"I hate you both," Satan grumbles, checking your temperature and seeing how it's well above the normal temperature for humans. "Solomon, you can't just drag MC on all your dangerous adventures. They're much more human than you are."

"Just because I accidentally made a spell that cursed me with immortality doesn't mean I'm any less human than they are." Solomon crosses his arms at his boyfriend's hurtful words. "Besides, MC wanted to come with me. Isn't that right, MC?"

You didn't speak. That was probably because you had passed out from how incredibly fatigued you were. Your skin was sticky and noticeably sweaty, eyes closed shut while letting out painful whimpers.

"Tell me again just what happened to them?" Satan groans as he opens a spell book. God knows where he got it. He did that a lot. He was like a video game character or something the way he'd just pull books or spell jars from out his ass. He was always the one Mammon would ask for a pencil, because hell he had like hundreds on him at all times.

"Well," Solomon cheekily smiles and scratches the back of his neck. "We went looking for some herbs for a new spell I concocted."

"Uh huh?"

"And MC sort of... fell."

"What did they fall on, Solomon?"

Said man falls silent. "Solomon?" Satan drags out his lover's name, threatening him, to which all Solomon can do is smile again, this time more nervous.

"They kind of, maybe, fell into a bush of what could have been poisonous flowers...."

"What kind of poisonous flowers, Solomon?" Satan glares at him.

Solomon thinks for a moment, then clasps his hands together. "Let's just say that if we don't get Diavolo or Lucifer in the next," he looks toward a clock, "fifteen or so minutes, MC might fall asleep for probably a whole millennium."

That earns the sorcerer a big thwack to the back of his head by Satan's spell book.

That was probably the first major incident where you were dragged into Solomon's dangerous plans, but it certainly wasn't the last. Most of the time you either ended up with several scrapes or bruises, things Satan or Solomon could easily patch up on their own. But sometimes you'd come back missing a shirt or as a cat.

(It's hard for Satan to be mad at Solomon for accidentally turning you into a cat, but he manages it because you were furious.)

... You were a really cute cat though, MC.

A cat was frantically trying to climb up Satan's pant leg. He was out in the garden tending to his flowers when a kitty he'd never seen before made their way through the bushes and crashed into his leg.

"Hello little one," he smiled at the cat. "Are you lost?"

The cat let out a pitiful wail and latched themselves onto Satan's leg. Satan frowned a bit and started to get worried. "Are you hurt? What's wrong?"

He picked up the cat to examine them. They were a cute little thing with [eye color] eyes and a sleek fur coat. Satan couldn't see anything physically wrong with them. Their paws looked fine, and there was no blood anywhere.

"Did you lose your mom? Maybe your kitten?" he began to muse, then Solomon exploded through the bushes looking frantic as ever.

"Have you seen a cat?" he gasped for air. "About this tall, [eye color] eyes, clearly upset?"

"You mean this one?" Satan held up the cat he found.

"Yes! Give them here-"

The cat hissed and clawed at Solomon's hand, burying themselves further into Satan's grasp. They growled, then looked toward Satan to let out another pitiful whine.

"MC, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Solomon cried.

The cat hissed again.

"I'm sorry, did you just say MC?"

Solomon stiffened. He started to laugh nervously, fiddling with his cuffs. "Uh... would you break up with me if I told you I turned our darling MC into a tiny cat...? If so then no, I didn't say MC."

"You did what?!"

"Oh would you look at the time! I have a meeting with Lord Diavolo I must attend to right now, goodbye Satan, I love you!"

And then Solomon left, leaving Satan to fix whatever spell he put on their partner by himself. Satan wasn't angry about it, but the look of pure rage on your little furry face was enough to let Satan know that if he kept you as a cat for a moment longer you'd raise hell upon everyone in the vicinity.

Having a pact with a demon means that pretty much everything you do is shared with said demon. You feel emotions stronger, god forbid if you feel their specific emotions. You could be angry at Mammon for swiping a bag of candy you bought for yourself, but you act as if Mammon robbed you of every last thing you had just because of the pact you share with Satan. He feels awful about that, even though you reassure him time and time again that:

1.) It's not his fault, and

2.) You wanted a pact with him

Even so, please give Satan cuddles and kisses after he gets all sulky. He acts composed, but on the inside he's so incredibly self-conscious of both his sin and his pact with you.

"You need to be more careful," Satan quietly mused as he bandaged your hurt hands and face. You had gotten into a fight at school because a demon shoved you, and now you were currently inside Satan's room, getting blood all over his pretty carpet.

"I know," you softly sighed and hissed once the rubbing alcohol came into contact with the cuts on your face. "I just, I don't know. It set me off for some reason."

Your boyfriend hesitated for a moment, then applied a bandage to your cheek. "It's because of the pact."

"Satan-"

"You know I'm right, MC." Satan didn't look at you when he talked. Instead he looked at his lap, which had the first aid kit he was using to fix you up in it. "I know I talk about this a lot but... I am truly sorry for doing this to you."

"Hey," you cupped his cheek. "It's not your fault. I can learn to live with this. I learnt to handle my greed, envy, and gluttony when I built pacts with your brothers, right?"

"You shouldn't have to though. Maybe it's best if I-"

You silently kissed him. It was a bittersweet kiss, one filled with love yet unspeakable sadness and hurt. Satan was so self-conscious of his sin, yet you loved him still anyway. You wished he could see that.

"Don't finish that thought," you whispered as you pulled away. Resting your forehead against his, you continued. "I love you. Despite your sin, despite how you were born, despite everything; I love you. I chose you, and I wanted a pact with you." You smiled, and Satan couldn't help but blush at your next sentence.

"You silly demon. You really can't see how amazing you are, huh? It's okay though, because both me and Solomon will always be here to remind you."

Solomon touches all your pact marks constantly. When you take off your shirt it's hard to stop him from touching Leviathan's mark located directly on your back. He's always rubbing his fingers over Beelzebub's symbol on your stomach, always outlining Mammon's mark on your wrist. Sometimes he kisses Belphegor's symbol on your throat. When meeting your eyes, he never fails to stare into the one that holds Lucifer's mark, and even though you cover your thighs almost all the time, it's like Solomon can tell where Asmodeus's mark is. It's his favorite place on your thigh to touch.

You sighed whenever you felt Solomon's lips touch the small of your back. A smile made its way onto your own lips as you giggled.

"I didn't expect Satan to place his mark somewhere so... subtle," he admitted as he popped up to press a kiss to your cheek.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He was playing with your wrist again, looking at the symbol of greed that adorns your skin.

"Solomon," you started.

Your lover hummed. You could tell he was beginning to grow drowsy. His eyes were closed and his movements slowed.

"Are you... jealous?"

That woke him up. He made you face him, and the expression he wore was unreadable. It worried you. Maybe you shouldn't have said that.

"I just mean, like," you grew embarrassed. "Um... you're always touching my pact marks, or always looking at them, and I don't know. Are you mad at me for them?"

The sorcerer gently grasped your hands. His fingers were weirdly soft considering how much he uses them. He sat there for a moment, just running his thumbs over your palms before speaking.

"I am a little," he admitted. "But I'm not mad at you. If anything I'm proud."

You smiled a bit. It was a lopsided and awkward sort of smile, but to Solomon it was the most beautiful thing in the world, as cheesy as that sounded.. He loves seeing his partners happy. He loves seeing you happy.

"You're much stronger than you think," Solomon continued. "Being able to hold seven different pact marks, ones belonging to Avatars, as a human with no sort of prior knowledge on magic?" He beamed. "You're incredible."

That only embarrassed you more. You groaned a bit and tried swatting Solomon away to hide your face, but your lover only pulled you in for a short yet loving kiss.

"You're cute, you know that?"

"You're cuter," you retorted. Solomon just smiled.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear. Speaking of which," he leaned back on your bed and made grabby hands at you, indicating that he wanted you to lay next to him. "I'm tired. Cuddle me."

"So needy," you joked, but instantly complied to Solomon's request. He was never like this in public. It was nice seeing him so open and vulnerable... and cute.

#THANK YOU SM FOR CLARIFYING YOUR HEADCANON REQUEST!!#i'm not poly myself so i never know if i should like-#make the feeling of romantic love be mutual between every person in the relationship?#or just have the two characters love the same person and not each other [weep]#i always feel like im disappointing the poly readers out there writing stuff that way #anywho tho i hope you enjoyed this!! it was a blast to write <3 #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #obey me satan #solomon obey me #satan obey me #solomon x reader #satan x reader #solomon x gn reader #satan x gn reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #ethan.writes

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maliby · 3 years

Text

Dare | Johnny Suh (+18)

↬ Pairing: Johnny x F. Reader

↬ Story Genre: smut, fluff

↬ Warnings: mature language, explicit sex scene

↬ Word count: 5.6K

↬ Summary: You and your friend Johnny have this ongoing string of wild dares. There’s just one thing: you’re never allowed to say no.

“Good morning class, today we’re going to start learning all about the matrix!” Your Algebra professor happily announced, completely unaware of the horror that swept over his students.

“Wait, is he talking about the movies?” Your friend Taeyong leaned in as soon as Professor Weaver turned his back to write on the board. The rest of the class groaned, having heard tales of horror from their seniors about the subject.

“No, you dufus! Remember last year when Taeil was having a mental breakdown?”

“Oh,” realization dawned over his beautiful face, his big eyes widening even more.

You had had a crush on Taeyong from the first moment you had seen him (just like everybody in your year), but that soon went away as you got to know him and found that you connected better as friends.

“Yup. Matrices…” You sighed in terror while you rested your chin on the palm of your hand. “Maybe Taeil has some notes he can give us-” At that moment, the phone in the back pocket of your jeans buzzed, breaking you out of your conversation. You fished the device from your pocket and looked at the shiny notification bar - it was a message from your roommate, Johnny Suh.

You looked to your left where said roommate was, sat just a few tables from you, and felt a feeling of dread creep up on you at the sight of his stupid grin. You didn’t have to read the message, you already knew what he wanted.

“Is it Johnny?” Taeyong asked as his eyes followed yours straight to the roommate you both had in common.

“Yes…” you mumbled through gritted teeth, quickly placing your finger on your phone’s Touch ID to unlock it and read the message.

Heeere’s Johnny 🔪 (10:35 AM): dare u to scream “fuck” as loud as you can

“Motherfucker…” you muttered with your eyes closed.

“What did he dare you to do this time?” You turned your phone to him as you noticed him trying to take a peek at it. “Oh no…”

It all started this one night at a frat house party. Back then, you were still crushing over Taeyong and, in a game of truth or dare, Johnny dared you to pick your nose and eat your own booger. Of course, any sane person would have said ‘no’ but, the tequila shots you had downed half an hour earlier made you anything but that. After that, not only did you not look at Taeyong for 2 weeks straight, but also dared Johnny to pick his crush’s nose. You thought he would never agree to it, but as soon as you saw the deed being performed right in the middle of the cafeteria, you knew you had just entered a game with no end.

“Y/N, you can’t do this! You’ll be in trouble!” Taeyong tried to reason with you, already knowing his words would fall on deaf ears.

“More trouble than I was in when I had to write a love poem to Professor Stevens on one of the questions of the Calculus exam?” You flinched as you remembered the talk down you got when Professor Stevens thought you were trying to have sex with him to get a better grade.

“Yeah...that was bad. But still-”

The buzzing of your phone interrupted Taeyong. You looked down at it and read Johnny’s second message out loud to your friend.

Heeere’s Johnny 🔪 (10:38 AM): are u scared? 🐔

You looked back at the sender of the message and felt annoyance grow as you saw him flap his arms around like a chicken and laugh straight in your face.

5 seconds. That was how long it took for you to completely lose your cool, flip Johnny off and yell from the back of the class: “Fuck!”

You were expecting a couple of things to happen, but nothing could prepare you for the general reaction you got: laughter. Everyone was laughing, from your classmates to your professor. Everyone except Johnny, that is.

“Don’t worry Miss Y/L/N,” Mr Weaver said from the front of the class, breaking your stare down with Johnny. “Matrices aren’t as scary as they seem,” Mr Weaver fondly smiled at you before turning back to the board to write something down, leaving you completely perplexed.

You looked back at Johnny who had his face in a frown and stuck your tongue out to him - it felt good to see his evil plans backfire.

“That was lucky,” Taeyong commented with a little chuckle.

“Tell me about it, feels like the Universe has finally compensated me for all the stupid shit Johnny has made me do.”

“You’ve made Johnny do some pretty stupid shit too.”

“Shhh,” you turned to your friend with your finger in front of your lips, making the universal gesture for silence. “Let’s not talk about that,” you patted him in the back and picked up your pen to start taking notes.

“I’m back!” You announced as put your keys on the glass bowl right by the entrance of your shared apartment.

“Taeyong, they were all out of your favourite yoghurt.” You heard noise coming from the kitchen so you moved your way there, but as you went inside you crossed paths with Johnny who was just leaving the kitchen. He was on the phone, and by the expression on his face, you figured that something bad must have happened.

“What happened?” You asked Taeyong who was leaning on the balcony eating the last of his yoghurt.

“I don’t know, it’s his mother.”

“Oh no, are his parents fighting again?”

Taeyong nodded as he licked his spoon and threw the yoghurt cup in the trash.

It was then that you both jumped up at the noise of the door slamming shut - Johnny had stormed out of the house.

Both you and Taeyong had called him loads of times but Johnny never answered, worry consuming you and your best friend. Eventually, you both decided to split up and go looking for him - Taeyong on his scooter and you on your bicycle.

After half an hour of looking for Johnny in the most obvious places, you started to get desperate. You were starting to run low on ideas of where he could be, but as you passed by a bus stop and saw an ad for a sunscreen with a girl on the beach you suddenly remembered something: Johnny once had told you that when he was feeling down he liked to go to the beach and listen to the waves because it really calmed him down.

“Why didn’t I think of that earlier?” You questioned yourself (earning a few weird looks from the people at the bus stop) before you changed directions and started to peddle your way to the beach.

The beach was mostly deserted (being that it was December and it was cold), but a brown-haired guy could be seen sitting alone in the sand.

You parked your bike in the empty bicycle spot, locked it and walked straight to the lonely boy. As you got closer to him and confirmed his identity you couldn’t help but sigh in relief - he sure as hell didn’t look good mentally, but at least he was physically okay. You fished your phone from the pocket of your jacket and sent a quick text to Taeyong before sitting right down beside one of your best friends.

“It’s a little cold for a swim, don’t you think?”

He smiled at you, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“My parents are getting a divorce,” he deadpanned before looking back at the sea, your instant reaction being to hug him.

“I’m so sorry Johnny.”

“I begged them to just talk it over. I begged them to try but...they won’t.”

“Johnny…” you started in a warning tone. You wanted to tell him that his parents have the right to be happy, but you completely understood where he was coming from - nobody wants their parents to split up. You just wish you could take away this bad feeling from him.

“I know, I know…” he answered, picking up what you were about to tell him. “It’s just...hard.”

You studied his face for a while and noticed his eyes were puffy from crying and your heart completely broke. You and Johnny liked to tease each other a lot, but the truth was that you really cared about each other, more than you’d probably like to admit.

You placed your hand on his back and started rubbing soothing circles. He probably could barely feel them over his bulky black leather jacket, but you couldn’t help but do it. “We’re here for you. Me and Taeyong. You know that, don’t you?”

Johnny turned to look at you and for a brief moment, his eyes held an emotion you had never seen on him. Something you were sure you had misunderstood. Something that, weirdly, made your heart pound.

“I know.”

Johnny kissed the top of your head and wrapped his long arm around you, snuggling you closer to him and his body heat. You placed your head on his shoulder and just sat there, hearing a mix of his breathing and the waves.

Suddenly your heart started pounding again - something about this felt way too intimate. Replaying the last few minutes in your head made you realize that all of this, somehow, felt like more than a friendship, and that, scared the crap out of you.

Your own body acted on its own, and when you came to it, you were already backing away from him and saying something to deflect the situation.

“You know there’s a frat party tonight don’t you?”

“Y/N... I’m not in the mood.”

“Johnny Suh, you are going to that damn party, and you are going to have a good time!” You knew he was stubborn and that you probably had no chance of convincing him but then, something crossed your mind; something that would dead sure make him go. “...I dare you!”

He chuckled. “That’s a low blow, using the dares against me.”

“Isn’t that the purpose of a dare though?” You smiled mischievously, making him smile in return.

“Touché.”

“Woo-hoo! Look at you!” Taeyong whistled as soon as you left your room, all dolled up and ready to go party. “Who are you trying to bang?”

You sneakily took a peek at Johnny who was sitting on the couch and felt a shiver run up your spine as you saw his eyes completely locked on your form. “Mmm, no one,” you lied in a playful tone.

The truth was you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that little moment with Johnny on the beach and, as you looked through all your clothes when deciding on what to wear, you couldn’t help but pick your most revealing dress with his reaction in mind.

“Yeah, I don’t believe you,” Taeyong said.

“Well tough luck! Now come on guys, the cab is waiting downstairs.”

When you were grabbing your bag to make your way out the door you felt a tall presence right behind you. He placed his big hand on the small of your back and whispered to your hair: “damn Y/N, didn’t know you cleaned up like that.”

You smiled to yourself and then turned to look at him. “Well, obviously you haven’t been paying attention.” You winked at him and turned back around, leaving to follow Taeyong to the cab while being fully aware of Johnny’s eyes on your back.

When both you and Johnny arrived downstairs, Taeyong had already sat in the front, making you both sit in the back.

The ride was a short one - only 10 to 15 minutes - but, nonetheless, it was full of tension. Taeyong was on his phone the whole time, and the driver kept quiet so, if it wasn’t for the radio the silence would be a deafening one.

Both you and Johnny didn’t take out your phones, as it would be usual. He just leaned his head on the window and watched the city lights pass by, probably still thinking about his parents. You felt bad. You didn’t want him to feel this way. You wanted him to be his usual funny self and dare you to do stupid shit, but seeing him like this just broke your heart.

You couldn’t help but stare at his side profile - he was handsome. Of course, you knew he was handsome, you were not blind, but this was the first time his handsomeness was affecting you. You couldn’t help but stare: stare at the way his styled hair brushed upon his eyes, stare at his straight nose and stare at his perky lips.

Suddenly, an undeniable urge to lean in and kiss him emerged within you. An urge so immense that you caught yourself actually moving towards him, only to be stopped by him turning to look back at you with a charged expression.

You shared a look for a few seconds. A look that made your insides tingle and your legs press harder against each other. What was happening to you?

Johnny’s hand was reaching over to yours, which was pressed on the seat between the both of you, and you could feel your heart start to beat faster. Suddenly, it felt like time had slowed down and all your focus was on that one hand. That hand that looked strong and delicate at the same time. That hand that looked like it had the power to not only be rough but also gentle. That hand that could grope you, touch you and fuck you so good until you cried for more. That hand that was so close that made you gasp in anticipation.

“We’re here,” the cab driver announced, breaking you from whatever spell Johnny had you on.

“Thanks. Keep the change.” Taeyong paid the driver and left the cab, immediately moving to open up your door.

“Milady,” he bowed, acting as your personal chauffeur.

“Why thank you,” you awkwardly bowed back, still feeling shaken up by the events of the car.

“Okay, let’s move!” Your group started walking towards the house as soon as Johnny joined both of you from the other side of the cab, Taeyong still completely unaware of what had just happened. “I promised Yuta we’d play beer pong with him.”

“But Taeyong, you know I suck at beer pong!” You protested.

“I do. And that’s why you’re not on my team.”

“What?! That means I’m stuck with her!” Johnny whined from right next to you, making you turn and hit him in his chest, his hard pecks not going unnoticed by you.

“Hey!”

“Shut up Suh, you know as well as I do that you could use a drink,” Taeyong said before he spotted his friend near the entrance. “Yuta ma’ man! What’s up?”

“TY! I was beginning to wonder if you’ve gotten lost!”

“Sorry, Miss Y/N here took 3 hours to get ready,” he pointed back at you, making you hit him in his shoulder.

“Shut up Taeyong!”

“Come on man, did you get a good look at her? I’d wait an eternity if it meant I could look at an angel like her,” he winked at you before getting a sip out of his red plastic cup.

It was public knowledge that you and Yuta had fucked a couple of times. He was pretty hot, and the things he could make you feel with that tongue piercing of his were out of this fucking world. But tonight, you weren’t feeling him all that much - the tiny voice in your head telling you that that’s because you wanted to be railed by Johnny instead.

“Do you really think those cheesy lines are going to work?” Johnny asked out of nowhere with a hint of annoyance to his voice.

Johnny and Yuta were friends and him, more than anyone, knew that Yuta was a nice guy. Sure, he really liked to flirt, but he was also very respectful. So, his reaction made you wonder if he perhaps was feeling jealous. Secretly, you hoped he was.

“It already did man,” Yuta winked at you once again, catching you a little off-guard.

“Now, TY told me we’re not going to be on the same team for the beer pong. I’m usually a perfect gentleman, but I’m sorry angel, I can’t let you win.” Yuta came one step closer and picked up your hand and you swore you felt Johnny tense up beside you. “Maybe afterwards you could save me a dance?” He kissed the back of your hand and gave you a look that left little to no imagination of his true intentions - he wanted sex.

“Dream on, Nakamoto,” Johnny interrupted, coming right between you two and breaking your contact. “Stop stalling and let’s go.”

Johnny grabbed your arm and pulled you inside and away from Yuta and his advances. The look of bewilderment on your other roommate’s face didn’t go by unnoticed by you, but you forcibly chose to act like you hadn’t seen it. You didn’t know what it was, but you were liking this jealous side of Johnny and you were certainly curious for more.

“Alright, game on,” you heard Yuta comment before the loud music from inside overwhelmed you and your ears.

The game went on for a while. You lost, just as Taeyong had predicted. You didn’t mind, really. You just wanted to have a good time and the alcohol from the game was helping you do just that: you were currently in the middle of the dance floor dancing by yourself without a care in the world. You had lost your friends when you went to the bathroom and decided to go to the dancefloor when WAP started playing.

You were enjoying yourself. You were at that fine line where you were feeling the effects of the alcohol but you could still make your own decisions and you loved it.

Suddenly, as you were shaking your ass, you felt a pair of hands on your hips and a crotch on your ass. You wished it was Johnny, but as you opened your eyes and saw him sitting on a couch not far from you, you felt your fantasy crumbling. You turned around to see who you had just ground on and weren’t surprised when your eyes landed on Yuta.

“Hello angel, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Really?” You tried to put a little distance between you, but Yuta just pulled you right back in, your bodies now in full contact with each other.

“The way you look tonight...you’re driving me fucking crazy. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed in your ear, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the small of your back. “All I wanted to do, was ditch Taeyong and the game and do that thing with my tongue that you like so much.”

Usually, that would be enough to make you lose your shit and pull him to the closest available bedroom, but tonight your mind was elsewhere. “Yuta...I’m sorry but tonight I’m not feeling it.”

His face fell in disappointment and he looked like a lost puppy, which partially made you feel bad for rejecting him, but you had to be honest.

“You sure?” He asked you.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’m sorry then...”

He was about to let you go; you could feel his grip loosening when someone yanked him back and away from you, leaving you confused.

“Leave her alone Nakamoto,” Johnny’s voice sounded right from beside you, making your heart jump.

“What the-? What is wrong with you Johnny? Why are you acting so- Oh…” Yuta looked back at you and you could literally see him putting all the puzzle pieces together in his mind. “I get it now.”

“Get what?” Johnny asked.

“Nothing,” you intercepted Yuta before he could say anything. “Yuta, don’t you have to go meet up with that girl?”

You made some weird faces at Yuta so he could understand what you were doing and, thankfully, he did.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Have fun!” He winked at you and turned to leave, making you sigh in relief that that whole situation was over.

“That was weird,” your roommate commented. “Was he bothering you? I know he sometimes can be a little...persistent.”

You felt a warmth spread throughout your chest. You knew Yuta could never harm you, but the fact that Johnny was so worried about you made you swoon. Then a thought popped in your head that made the warm fuzzy feeling turn sour: was he worried because he liked you or just as a friend?

“No, it’s okay. He did nothing wrong. Thank you…”

“You’re welcome…”

The mood got awkward for a minute, with none of you saying a word until Johnny broke your shared silence. “I’m gonna go.”

“What?”

“Yeah...I’m sorry, I’m just not really feeling it.”

He looked mentally down and you felt bad for him. Johnny was always the one cracking up a joke - wherever there was laughter, he was always present. He loved to dance and to have a good time, and it broke you to see him like this.

“Hey, come on, dance with me.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, I’m really not feeling it…”

“Come oooon…” You didn’t know how you could convince him, but then an idea popped in your head. “I dare you.”

He chuckled and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of at least making him laugh. “Playing dirty again Y/N?”

“Well, you aren’t giving me much of a choice now are you Johnny?”

“I don’t know…”

Before he could continue you started imitating a chicken, just like he had done to you in the Algebra class and you couldn’t help but smile at his laughter once again.

“Alright, alright!”

“Yes!” You chanted in victory, promptly grabbing his hands and making him dance with you.

The dance started out friendly, with a few spins here and there, but it wasn’t long before tension started rising up and his hands were on your hips, just where Yuta’s had been. In your head, you couldn’t help but compare the feeling of the 2. Yuta had nice hands, that had certainly made you feel good before, but Johnny’s somehow felt better. His hands felt like he cared for you on a much deeper level. Like they could hold you and never let go. Like they could protect you from anything and completely destroy you at the same time.

As your inner voice went on an entire monologue about the wonder of Johnny’s hands, you found yourself looking him dead in the eyes. The way he was looking at you was making you think wild things, and with the buzz from the alcohol, you couldn’t help but want to act on those thoughts.

Without an ounce of self-control, you let your head move forward and your mouth whisper in his ear: “I dare you to grab my ass.”

Without a second of hesitation, his hands were on your ass and you were exhaling on his ear. The way his big hands were fully grabbing you and massaging you was turning you on so much that you could feel yourself get wet. You wanted nothing more than to have him lift up your dress and finger you in the middle of everyone.

Johnny moved his head near your neck and you thought for a second he was about to kiss you there, but you were surprised when he spoke in your ear. “I dare you to grind that sexy ass of yours on my cock.”

“Fuck.”

Just as he had done with your dare, you promptly complied, turning around and rubbing yourself on his semi. You both were walking on some dangerous paths, but you didn’t think any one of you could go back now.

As you moved your ass to the music and felt him grow harder and harder you couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to fuck him. You wanted him to end you. You wanted him to fill you up so good that he’d ruin any other man for you. You wanted his hands all over your body. You wanted him to grab your tits and play with your nipples. Fuck.

You reached your head back and whispered your next dare to him: “I dare you to play with my boobs.”

“Gladly.”

And then those big hands that were previously on your ass were now caressing your breasts and you felt like you were completely done.

“Mmmh…” you moaned, not sure if he could hear you over the loud music.

The way he was pinching your nipples over your dress made you feel glad you decided on not wearing a bra tonight. He was making you feel so good just with his fingers on your nipples and his clothed cock on your ass that your mind once again thought about what it would feel like to have the real deal.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

The dare had caught you off guard. You had been so in a trance by the grinding that your mind went straight to the fucking and skipped the kissing, but now that he had requested it you couldn’t stop thinking about it. So, consumed by desire, you turned around and glued your lips to his.

You wrapped your right leg around his hip (his hand once again coming to the rescue and grabbing your thigh) and felt his cock rubbing you straight on your clit. The feeling was so pleasurable that you felt like you couldn’t take it anymore, you had to have him now. So you pulled back from the kiss and plead for the last dare: “I dare you to fuck me.”

Johnny didn’t waste any more seconds, he grabbed you by your hand and lead you up the stairs to the first spare bedroom he could find. He then pushed you to the bed, making you fall right on the mattress.

“When I saw you with Yuta I went fucking crazy.”

The way he was towering over you and looking down on you as he confessed his feelings to you was slowly driving you mad. You never imagined you would be where you were right now, but now that you were you could confidently say that you wanted nothing more than this.

“I turned him down because of you,” you also confessed, now suddenly feeling shy and not being able to look him in the eye.

He chuckled.

Suddenly the mattress dipped between your legs as he joined you on the bed, right on top of you.

“How the fuck did we end up here Y/N?” His fingers gently placed a misplaced lock of your hair behind your ear, catching your breath at his tenderness.

“I don’t know...but I think I don’t want to go back.”

“Good. ‘Cause me neither.”

His lips were back on yours and although the kiss felt different this time, it quickly evolved to something more. His hands ran down your body and went between your legs, his fingers rubbing you over your drenched panties.

“You’re so wet baby. Is this all from grinding against my cock?” His fingers slid under your underwear and easily entered you, making you moan.

“Fuck, yes. I can’t stop thinking about your cock, it’s driving me crazy. I want to fuck you so badly.”

“I want that too.” Something dark took over his eyes. Something that, in combination with his low and breathy voice was making your desire for him grow to even bigger levels.

“Lately I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His free hand pulled down the upper part of your dress, exposing your breaths to his hungry mouth, as his other hand picked up its pace. “I lay awake at night just thinking about you: your smell, your hair, your smile, your eyes, your lips, your body…”

“Johnny…” you moaned his name as you felt that sweet pleasure building up from within you.

“Fuck, that sounded better than I imagined. Do that again, baby.”

Johnny’s other hand joined the one between your legs and began its assault on your little bundle of nerves, intensifying the amount of pleasure you were feeling. “Fuck Johnny, I can’t take it much longer…”

“Cum for me baby,” he instructed as he tried to alleviate himself by rubbing his cock against your leg.

“Ohshit-” you incoherently mumbled at the arrival of your orgasm, your walls spasming around his long fingers.

“You’re so beautiful,” Johnny mumbled against the skin of your belly as he pressed soothing kisses on it.

You smiled and took in a few more breaths so you could talk.

“Since when are you this romantic Suh?” You asked as you finger-combed his now messy hair.

“Since always. I just only show it to special girls.”

You looked away, suddenly feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks. Damn Johnny Suh and his smooth ass talking.

He chuckled before moving closer to your face and kissing you across your jaw. “Since when are you this shy Y/L/N?”

“Since-” You opened your mouth to answer him but came up short, ending up getting frustrated instead. “Shut up and take your clothes off!”

Your roommate laughed at your annoyance and immediately complied, removing his shirt and working on his pants. You couldn’t help but stare at his buff body: his bulging biceps, his washboard abs and his juicy pecks. You were so lost in desire that you didn’t even notice that Johnny was eyeing you up.

“Enjoying the view?” He teased, the stupid grin on his face driving you mad.

“Shut up,” you said once more, not enjoying the power he had over you.

“Take off your dress baby, I wanna see you too,” he requested as his hand caressed your naked thigh, sending shivers up your spine.

You obliged, quickly removing all your clothes and exposing your naked body to his hungry eyes.

Johnny didn’t say anything, but you could tell by the way his cock twitched that he was affected. So affected, in fact, that within seconds he was on top of you devouring your lips.

Both your hands wandered on each other’s body as he dry humped you between your legs.

“Do you have a condom?” You asked between ragged breaths.

“Fuck, no. But wait a minute,” Johnny reached for the bedside table and opened the first drawer, finding exactly what he was looking for. “Jackpot.”

“Did you know that was there?”

“No, but I figured. After all, this is a frat house,” he explained as he opened up the package and rolled down the latex condom on his cock.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Fuck, yes. Just put it in.”

Johnny didn’t wait a second longer. He grabbed his cock, ran it up and down your slit a couple of times and slowly entered you, the feeling of fullness being completely indescribable.

“Oh Johnny, you feel so good.”

“Fuck, tell me when I can move.” Johnny was nuzzled up in your neck, leaving tiny love bites as you adjusted to his cock.

“You can go.”

He started moving slowly at first, a string of moans spilling out from both your mouths, but, soon after, his hips started thrusting faster and harder and you found yourself clawing at his back.

“Shit,” he hissed before glueing his lips back on yours.

For a moment you both lay there on your own little pleasure bubble, just fucking and swirling your tongues together, with moans and cusses being spilt left and right as you enjoyed each others’ bodies. For a moment, nothing else mattered - just you and Johnny.

“Baby, you’re taking me so well. You are so perfect,” he confessed as he kissed you all over, his words almost making your heart jump out of your chest.

“Johnny, baby, I’m so close.”

“Me too, fuck.”

Johnny was drilling into you so hard that the sound of skin slapping on skin was drowning out the music coming from outside. You were almost there, and as you felt that sweet feeling building up in your core you took a chance to really look at Johnny: the way he bit his lip, the way his brows frowned in pleasure, his dishevelled locks and the way his veins popped on his arms as he held himself up so as not to crush you. He was so fucking hot you couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed it sooner.

“Johnny, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, beautiful. I’m right there.”

That was all you needed. Just like that, you were crashing and burning around the man you had considered as ‘just a friend’ for years, your walls milking him dry and making him spill everything inside the borrowed condom.

You didn’t move for several minutes. Johnny fell right to your side and just lay there right beside you, your chests rising and falling in tandem.

What do you say in these situations? What were you supposed to say right after one of your best friends, and roommate, fucked the shit out of you? You had no idea, but thankfully, he took the lead.

“I dare you to fuck me again.”

The dare caught you completely off-guard, just like yours had caught him and you couldn’t help but laugh. For a good minute, that’s all you both did: laugh.

“Alright,” you reached for the drawer and grabbed another condom from the owner of the room. “But this time, I’m on top.”

1K notes · View notes

deidearly · 3 years

Text

Kakashi Relationship Headcanons

Guess who’s back with another relationship headcanon today? And as usual, I had a good time writing this one even got slightly carried away, hehe. Enjoy! XX.

Well— Hatake Kakashi, huh? Dating him would be such a roller coaster ride, tbh. It’s like, one moment he’s so clingy, fragile, so afraid of losing you— but one moment he’s like, “Just do what you need to do. I don’t really care.” This is due to the fact that he’s got a lot of things in his mind and occasionally struggled to sort out his priorities.

Anyway, of course you’ve complained about his ‘reading-smut-in-public’ issue, especially when you’re together. You two would come up with an agreement somehow. But to piss you off, he’d pretend like you’re the one who’s obsessed with reading smuts.

You’re browsing for some important books and he playfully yelled, “Y/N! Come here, it’s your favorite book— Icha Icha Tactics! My, I know you’ve had four books, but another one won’t hurt, right? Since you love it that much!” making everyone in the bookstore giggled.

He received “Y/N Signature Punch” that day.

To your surprise, he’s not very secretive about his relationship with you. In fact, you’ve caught him frequently use you as an excuse for him to escape some unwanted occasions.

Let’s say Gai was asking Kakashi to fight him like usual— and he wasn’t having it that day. “Gai, with all respect— I would gladly accept your challenge. But can’t you feel the springtime of romance youth is blooming? I must see Y/N immediately.”

Gai’s tearing up.

Don’t worry, he actually went to your place.

“Yo. Can we hang out? I just told Gai that I would come to your place. Please say ‘yes’ to make me less of a jerk, will you?”

Would totally show up in front of your place at an ungodly hour.

At first it surprised you but now you’re used to it.

You just finished your mission, it went pretty well but you felt there were some wasted chances due to your captain’s miscalculation. It’s nearly 2 AM but you caught yourself wide awake, reviewing back your battle– only to got distracted by a knock on your bedroom’s window. Instead of turning your head in surprise, you already knew who it was. To have a little fun for yourself, you ignored the sound, which was later followed by a second knock. Walking over to the window, you saw a silver-haired man with a mask. Although half of his face was covered, it’s obvious that a smile was apparent. “Yo.” he greeted, but you replied with a sigh. “You could actually knock on the door and I’d let you in through the door. It’s something normal people would do, Kakashi.” you grumbled, opening the window for him to get in. “Ah, spare me the lecture!”

So, reverse psychology works best for Kakashi. Like the Icha Icha Tactics– the more you ignore his behavior, he would actually try not to read his book in public like you told him to. But the more you complain, he’d read it in places where he shouldn’t be reading it at all. This method works in almost every cases.

You’ve been dating for weeks, but you haven’t seen his face.

Yes, when kissing, too.

You’ve had enough of kissing fabric.

You had planned to make a dinner together at his place. He was preparing the dishes and you’re about to finish your cooking, when he suddenly asked, “Hey, Y/N. Have you ever wondered what would I look like under this mask?” You were dying to know actually. So, now you’re stuck with two options: (a) be honest about it, (b) pull out another reverse psychological answer— and you chose the latter. “Huh? Not really,” you shrugged, “I don’t really care so it’s not like I’m eager to see it.” and of course, this was a lie. Kakashi went silent for a while. “Anyway, dinner’s re—“ you swore you could’ve dropped the whole pan when you saw an unfamiliar presence. “Kakashi?” you asked hesitantly. The man looked up with a questioning look, “Why are you blushing?” he replied casually.

“ANYONE WITH A DECENT EYESIGHT WOULD BLUSH TOO, YOU STUPID.”

He’s honestly so heavenly to look at.

Sometimes it’s just too overwhelming to see his whole face, you thought.

It’s safe to say that it’s a privilege to be able to see his face. But due to his immense charm, you’d prefer to have him with a mask on.

“Y/N, I feel naked without my mask—“ , “And I honestly feel like I’m being forced to see an illicit nudity, too. Put your mask on, it’s fine honestly.”

He’s been very good at his job for almost his whole life, a fine shinobi. So, he’s rarely exposed to mundane things, moreover a relationship. Thus, making him quite restrained in expressing himself. Plus, he was labelled with some negative titles, saying how cold-blooded he was and he just decided to live with it. This, obviously, requires a lot of patience.

But he’s determined to change, the first step he took was letting you in— into his life.

It started rocky, though.

He’d say something like how he didn’t care much about you and sadly, he really didn’t.

But as the time went by he realized how your presence has been the one that helped him through it. How you’ve always been there to comfort him, by listening to him, giving him a lot of supports, or simply by reminding him that he’s not completely alone.

And when that moment came, he’s sworn to protect you with all his might.

He had a lot of nightmares, he still does, unfortunately. But when you’re around, your presence eases him up a little.

When you’re not around, however, he’d rather spend all night unhealthily tiring himself until he fall asleep.

His personal favorite would be curling up next to you with his hand around your waist while hiding his face near the crook of your neck as he’s giving you some soft neck kisses.

Again, NECK KISSES.

He had a hard time trying to open up himself fully to you and this applies to romantic gestures, I believe. He surely would take his time to explore you, what you like, and what he likes.

Would shower you with kisses, all over your face without missing a spot. He greatly admires every inches of yourself.

Body worship, oof.

Lowkey (semi highkey) protective.

Lowkey (semi highkey) a show-off.

Would straight up jump to save you if it’s necessary.

And since he’s a show-off, he lowkey loves PDA— but the soft ones, of course. You two would always get spotted together. He would casually sling his arm around your shoulder or lazily has his hand wrapped around your waist.

Favorite time to spend with you is training together. No matter how many times you’ve told him to “fight with an intent to win” he simply refuses— saying how, he’s “far too powerful” for you.

But deep down he just doesn’t want to hurt you…

Chatting in the middle of a training

“Tsunade-sama hasn’t assigned me any missions lately *throws kunai*” , “Maybe if you threw your kunai accurately, she will. *dodge kunai*” , “Kakashi, shut your pretty mouth up. *throws MORE kunai aggressively*”

When you turned him down while he was showing off his new tricks, though, it weirdly turned him on.

He loves someone powerful, with a right amount of cocky.

Doesn’t talk big. He’s a man of action— his action speaks louder than words!

Doesn’t spoil you that much, though. Because it’s actually him who needs to be spoiled.

Really loves it when you trace your fingers all over his skin— it’s intimately soft, he claimed.

LOVES YOUR SCENT. Has it memorized probably.

He’d prefer someone independent. Someone who could actually take care of themselves instead of relying on him completely.

Anyone too childish would remind him of Team 7, tbh.

Speaking of Team 7, they would probably be the one to get introduced to you.

Naruto was so shocked to find out that his sensei was capable to develop a romantic feeling towards someone. But he had his doubt— do you really know Kakashi? He started to bombard you with questions to test your knowledge.

“So, do you know what’s Kakashi Sensei’s favorite—“ , “I’ve seen his face. Multiple times.” , “YOU WHAT?”

Complained and sulked about it, “Kakashi Sensei, we’ve trained together for years. How could you?!”

Sakura was confused.

“How? I know he’s probably very handsome under that mask but come on, Y/N, reading smut in public? That’s an absolute no.”

On the contrary, Sasuke was thrilled, internally.

“Yeah. Finally. Old man has someone to annoy besides us. About time.”

He has a pretty bad behavior, too. Unlike Gaara, who’d put an emotionless facade when he’s only in the Kazekage mode, Kakashi would treat you just how he feels like doing it that day.

Let’s be real, he has so many bottled up feelings inside his heart so it’s not a surprise that someday, somehow, a random painful emotion just hit him— hard, and he shut himself out.

The hospital is the place you immediately visit right after Kakashi’s arrival after a mission because you know he’d be there— reading his book with a few bruises here and there. But this time was a bit different. When he’s hospitalized, he would whine about you not being able to stay more than an hour— but right now you’re puzzled, since he’s been completely silent and avoiding you, answering your questions with a mere shrugs.

Tsunade told you that the mission went pretty well, thanks to Kakashi for eliminating all the enemies on the field, singlehandedly. You automatically knew that it must brought up his past traumas. “Kakashi, it’s not your fault.” you decided to speak, earning a glance from Kakashi, but that’s it. “It’s a mission and you protected all of your comrades!”

“I killed them, Y/N. I didn’t have to, but I did.” he said, with his eyes still glued elsewhere. “Every time I look at my hands, I feel dirty. It reminded me of that—“, “Kakashi, look at me.”

You moved closer to his bed, reaching out your hand and traced your fingers softly on his face. His cheeks were cold, and you could clearly see how he was slightly trembling with teary eyes. “Kakashi, if you didn’t do it— it could’ve been your own comrades. Now they’re safe and sound, thanks to you.”, you paused as he slowly began to move his sight to you. “And if I could meet you way sooner, I would remind you every day that it’s never your fault— it’s never been. You’re a good person, Kakashi. I, and all of us, are forever thankful for the things you’ve done.” you whispered, now wiping a few tears that fell down to his cheeks. A weak smile started to bloom, “I’m forever thankful for you as well, Y/N.”

#naruto #boruto #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #kakashi x y/n #kakashi headcanons #kakashi imagines #headcanons #kakashi

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lafourmii20 · 3 years

Note

My favorite pairing is probably DrPepperony if I had to choose one, and I'm a sucker for 30 (the protective one). While I tend to swerve to "people protecting Stephen", please write it however you'd like - if you're interested in this combination. :)

Thank you for the ask, @aelaer 💕

I love drpepperony and I was very happy to write this OT3 with this prompt. It's a bit longer than I thought, and maybe not exactly what you imagined. I hope you like it!

~~~

drpepperony, pre-relationship (could almost be read as gen), hurt stephen, with a bit of blood, protective pepper, protective tony, not clint friendly (sorry i had to find sort of a bad guy), post Endgame but Tony lives and Steve died

~~~

“If you’re so powerful, why couldn’t you save her?!”

Clint’s shout echoed on the lawn, all the way to the cabin. Tony instantly got to his feet.

“Stay with uncle Happy, Maguna.”

He left his drink on a table, and his daughter under Happy’s careful watch, and hurried outside. When he pushed the front door, he frowned, deeply unhappy with the scene.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen whispered in such a thin voice Tony wasn’t sure anyone heard him –not sure the guy even wanted to be heard.

“You’re sorry? Is that what you just mumbled?” Clint answered, his tone getting angrier and angrier with each word.

“I am truly deeply sorry,” Stephen articulated more clearly this time.

It did not seem to appease Clint. At all.

“Well, great! You’re sorry. But Nat is dead because of you. And your sorry ass apologies won’t do shit to bring her back!”

Clint was furious. He was grieving. But he was taking it out on the wrong guy.

“It’s all your fault!”

Stephen didn’t move, didn’t even blink when Clint lurched forward and punched him square in the face. He fell backwards and blood splattered on the ground.

“It’s all your fucking fault!” Clint bellowed as Sam and Bucky restrained him, tried to stop him from attacking again.

He almost tore free, and Tony took a step forward. He was all for letting his fellow Avengers sort things out between themselves the way they wanted to –and if they had to punch some sense into each other from time to time, well it was their business. But no one was getting beaten up, without even trying to resist, on his lawn.

But before Tony could say anything, Pepper stepped into the scene.

“What is going on here?” she asked in her no-nonsense voice. Se didn’t wait for someone to answer –as if there even was a correct way to answer when she used that voice. “No one is fighting in my home! Today, we celebrate those we brought back, and we grieve those we lost. This is not a time for fighting and I will not tolerate it. Is that clear?”

Clint might try to protest, there was no way he would sway Pepper. He was an Avenger. She was even more dangerous, Tony thought with pride. Looked like he could let his wife handle the dirty business.

He crossed the lawn, got to the poor wizard still slumped on the ground, haggard and defeated. His nose was bleeding profusely, and the corner of his eye was starting to turn purple. Tony grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Come on. Let me take care of you.”

Stephen looked up at him. There was a deep sadness, a resigned look in his eyes that broke Tony’s heart. Then Stephen got up and it was gone. They walked silently through the crowd, crossed the lawn and reached the house. Tony pushed him as carefully as he could in a bathroom.

“Here we go,” he said softly, helping Stephen sit on the edge of the tub. “Fri, where’s the first aid kit?”

“Under the sink, boss,” the AI answered immediately and Tony dived under the sink to retrieve the little box, opening it to get some cotton balls and antiseptic, though he wasn’t sure what to do with those. “May I suggest the ice pack, boss?”

“You’re the best, baby girl.”

“Of course,” she answered, and Tony chuckled.

He went back to Stephen with a slightly wet towel to wipe off the blood while he handed him the cold pack. Stephen’s fingers shook wildly when he took it and pressed it on the side of his head, with a painful wince.

“You don’t have to do all this,” the Wizard of Oz finally said. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, look in the mirror, doc, and tell that to your face,” Tony scoffed.

He got a brief glimpse of a smile before he moved the towel over nose, lips, chin, and all the mess of blood that covered Stephen’s face.

“Why didn’t you send Clint to the Sinister Dimension or whatever the name of that hellish world is?” Tony asked, trying not to wince with Stephen every time the towel stroked over a sensitive area.

“Dark Dimension,” Stephen corrected.

“Sure.”

A moment of silence passed. Tony took the time to rinse the blood out of the towel before applying it again. It seemed like the bleeding had stopped. That only left the big ugly contusion at the corner of Stephen’s eye. Ouch, that looked painful.

“Fri, can you scan our good doctor? Make sure there are no deeper wounds?”

“I’m fine,” Stephen protested with another wince that said otherwise.

“Fri?”

“The good doctor is right, boss. No deeper injury.”

“Great.”

As Tony looked at the slumped and beaten up form in front of him, it seemed that nothing was great. If there were no physical wounds, it seemed that there was a more profound, more painful, psychological one. That man was wounded, burned out, and morally exhausted. And Tony was suddenly filled with the impulse to help him, to fix this, whatever this was.

He wanted to see the powerful and cocky sorcerer he clashed with, when they first met.

He wanted the weirdly flirty wink after great prowess of magic, and butting heads with someone that didn’t take his nonsense but actually listened to him, and compromised.

“So, why didn’t you stop him?” he asked again after a minute of almost comfortable silence.

He threw the bloody towel in the laundry basket and leaned against the sink, watching Stephen intently.

“Because he’s grieving. And he’s right,” Stephen answered in a too small voice.

Defeated.

Tony was not taking any of it. If Pepper had to protect Stephen from Clint, Tony would have to protect Stephen from himself, apparently. It was far from the weirdest thing he had ever done.

“Bullshit. It’s not your fault.”

Stephen arched an eyebrow behind the cold pack, before he winced and dropped it. Tony picked it up for him and, instead of giving it back to the wizard, he brought it up to Stephen’s face and gently hold it up against his temple. Stephen just sighed, closed his eyes for a second, letting Tony take care of him. The situation was slightly more intimate than Tony anticipated but it warmed his heart to see Stephen accept his help. And yeah, he could see himself get closer to the wizard in the near future.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated.

“It kinda is. I chose this path, the one where Natasha and Steve had to die. Their deaths are on my hands.”

“That’s just pure bullshit! You didn’t push Nat on Vormir, she jumped. You didn’t put the gauntlet on Steve’s hand, he took it and snapped his own fingers knowing he would not survive it. You did not murder them. They chose to sacrifice themselves to save us all, and believe me, I would have done the same thing, without blaming you. You know what you did?”

“Wallow in self-pity, dishonoring their great sacrifice?” he whispered defeated and seemingly disgusted with himself.

“No.” Damn, that man really needed to be protected from himself. Tony knew a thing or two about blaming himself for everything, but Strange was on another level completely. “You put us on the right path, you risked your sanity to view all those possible futures and other timeline. You are a hero.”

That seemed to finally shut Stephen up. He blinked, looked up at Tony, but this time, there was something different in his eyes. A deep emotion Tony couldn’t really name. It made his heart race.

Stephen’s hand rose, lightly touched Tony’s at the side of his head. It was delicate and far more intimate than he expected. But before Tony could say anything else, the bathroom’s door opened, and Pepper stepped in.

Stephen quickly took his hand away, but Tony kept his position. There was nothing he wanted to hide from his wife. Besides, if something ever happened with the wizard, he was pretty sure Pepper would want to be included. Yep, that would be very nice actually, the three of them in the cabin. Tony could almost picture it.

Wait, he was thinking a bit ahead of himself, wasn’t he? Well, who could blame him, he was a futurist, after all.

“Are you okay, Dr. Strange?” Pepper asked.

“You can call me Stephen. And yes, I’m okay. Tony took care of me.”

Pepper looked at her husband. Tony winked, she smirked in return. His hand was still pressed against Stephen’s head –there was a cold pack between them, but did that really matter?

Pepper went to Stephen’s other side, carefully took his chin in her hand to examine him –and there was no cold pack or any medical supply to excuse the proximity. Stephen tensed for a second, then he relaxed in her grip.

“You did well,” Pepper finally concluded, with a small stroke on Stephen’s cheek. The wizard shuddered. Then she stepped back and the fluttering moment was over. “Tony, you stay with him, I’m gonna send everyone home,” she ordered more than asked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tony answered immediately.

“And Stephen?”

“Yes?”

“Stay for dinner with us tonight. Please?”

A moment of hesitation, blue-green eyes jumping from Tony to Pepper, a gulp and finally.

“I will.”

Well, well, well, Tony thought. That was a very interesting turn of events. He couldn’t wait to see where all of this would lead them.

~~~

Inspired by this intimacy prompt list

Prompts filled: 3. touching foreheads (ironstrangefrost) 23. wearing someone’s clothing (ironstrange) 29. kissing while mad (ironstrange) 59. height difference (ironstrange)

#drpepperony #fic #hurt stephen strange #protective tony stark #protective pepper potts #bad clint barton #tw blood #pre relationship #hurt comfort #ask answered #lafourmii writes

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channiebbang · 3 years

Text

bet

synopsis: sometimes love is never meant to be. no matter how much you want it. y/n learns this the hard way when seungmin confesses he never loved her.

characters: Seungmin, Han, Main Character

pairing: douchbag!Seungmin x girlfriend!maincharacter

genre: angst

word count: 2.8k

warnings: will hurt your heart and you will want to whack seungmin at some point lol

author’s note: uuuuu i’m really proud of this one. i remember i wrote this out of anger lmaoo i was so over seungmin always being the goody two shoes and always being this innocent dumb boy that i was like ‘fuck it imma write about him being an asshole’ and so i did lol i hope this is as fun to read as it was for me to write, enjoy! 💛

The cold air blew the loose hair around her face across her cheeks, the rest wrapped safely in a loose ponytail.

The spring wind felt relaxing, serene and calm, too calm. Too calm for the situation she was in, the silence around her deafening.

It was too quiet, the ringing that was picking up in her ears proof of that. She didn't know if she was even breathing.

Her glistening eyes were fixed on the boy in front of her, the boy she thought she knew all to well. But did she? Because in a matter of seconds he was a stranger.

She didn't know if she heard him right, she didn't know if he even said anything at all. She didn't know anything anymore. But the scoff he let out, breaking the overbearing silence, was answer enough. The answer was yes, she heard him right and yes, he had said something.

Although she wished she didn't and he hadn't.

She knew she should've felt cold in her light, loose, V neck crop t-shirt and high waisted trousers, but weirdly enough the wind kept her cooled off, as if the elements wanted to console her. Comfort her breaking heart, calm her down.

She breathed in slowly through her nose, lips parted, regaining control over he swirling emotions. She wasn't going to cry.

And even if she was hurt, in pain and struggling to breathe in and out properly she tried to comfort herself. She told herself she knew this was coming, she knew this was going to happen, she knew something was off.

She knew Kim Seungmin was just playing with her.

She focused on him again. She cursed at whoever was in charge up there for making him so good-looking, so easy going, so likable, so lovable and so comfortable to be around.

She cursed at herself for knowing what was happening and still losing herself in him. Drowning in the siren that was Kim Seungmin.

"So? Are you just going to stand there?" He taunted snapping her out of her thoughts.

She blinked a couple of times, eyes shifting around herself. They were seemingly stood alone, but she knew better, for she knew whenever she was with him they were never alone. After all, you can't play with someone without proof, right?

The only person she could be mad at was herself. So she smiled, her lips stretched ever so gently, her hands coming in front of her chest to hold onto the strap of her bag, resting against her hip.

Seungmin's eyes looked at her confusedly, she was smiling. Not even 5 minutes ago he had told her she meant nothing to him, that the past eight months meant nothing to him but a measly deal with his friends.

And she was smiling. Why?

"What do you want me to say, Seung?" She looked at him again, her eyes back to how they usually are. Bright, smiling, not glistening. Her smile never faltering.

The brunette, stood a few meters away from her, frowned. This was not the reaction he was looking for nor the one he expected.

He was annoyed, she had to stop acting so nice all the time. She needed to stop acting like a goody two shoes constantly. It was driving him insane, why can't she just get mad and scream?

He had broken her heart, for fuck's sake, give some reaction.

Seungmin looked around himself exasperated, not looking for anything in particular. He frustratingly ran his fingers through his hair, a harsh scoff leaving his lips. Unbelievable.

"Can you drop the act?" He spoke harshly, a strain to his voice. He didn't know why he was getting so worked up. He could've left, really. He had to just break the news to her and he could've left. But he didn't. His meaner side wanted to see her reaction, hoped she had one.

He hoped to see her riled up, angry, even crying. Maybe throwing a fit about how rude and mean and evil he was. He wanted to hear what the previous air headed bitch had yapped at him when he dumped her ass. How she gave her all to him, how he broke her heart, how she would take her revenge on him.

But he was frustrated, so fucking much. Because the girl in front of him did none of that, and to be completely honest, Seungmin felt robbed of his entertainment. So he huffed out a breath again, eyes trained on the girl as she stared at him. Smiling. And it pissed him off so much.

"I don't know what you expect me to do, Seung. There's nothing much I can do about all of this. What we had was fake, I get it, there's nothing I can do to change it. No matter what my reaction is, things won't change," she spoke softly, and Seungmin felt like she was mocking him.

Her smile was mocking him, her understanding eyes were mocking him, her soft voice was mocking him. It seemed like he had just told her about his day and not that he had been faking it all along. He groaned frustrated.

"Oh my God! Fucking do something, I don't know! Why are you just standing there?" He raised his voice a little, he watched as she took a small step back. That was the only movement from her. If he had not paid attention to that he wouldn't have even noticed any change in her.

"You want me to scream at you? Be angry? Cry? Fight?" She spoke, listing all the possibilities, and Seungmin found himself nodding, another groan leaving his lips.

"Yes! Do that, all of that," he desperately exclaimed, before continuing, "but don't just fucking stand there and act all nice and whatnot, stop smiling. The fuck are you smiling about? I just told you I was faking this relationship, I just told you it's over," he angrily spoke, his frustration getting the best of him.

Y/n calmly observed the guy, breathing heavily. She hated to admit that his revelation didn't change her feelings for him. Sure, she wasn't going to beg for his attention and his affection but she wasn't going to lie and say she didn't still love him. After all, Kim Seungmin was the perfect boyfriend throughout the whole ordeal.

His true colors were shown only now. And she understood how little she knew someone she claimed to love. She believed him when he said it was all fake. She didn't question anything. She didn't question all the sweet gestures he had shown, she didn't ask herself if those were fake too. They most certainly were, and she knew it.

She was just too stupid to see it.

"I'm not going to do any of that, Seungmin. Unlike yours, my feelings were real, I'm not going to question your feelings behind how caring you seemed to me, nor am I going to question the motive for what you did and I'm not going to ask what you gained from this either," y/n muttered, her smile gone. And Seungmin thought he was going to get the reaction he wanted, even if just a little bit. But he frowned deeply as he listened to her words.

"Why?" He asked, genuinely curious. Why didn't she want to know? Why was she so calm? Why. Is. She. Not. Reacting? He watched as she blinked at the ground a couple of times.

"I wasn't faking it. I know your feelings weren't real but mine were. I know the person you acted to be was not you, I know nothing was real. But I can't deny my feelings, so I would like to remember you as that person, I'll get over you better if I just pretend that things just didn't work out between us," she nodded as she concluded her words, her eyes looking up at him, the smile back on her lips.

Seungmin stared at her, lips parted, confused. He didn't know what she meant, at all. She wanted to pretend he didn't play with her feelings? Delusional.

"You are delusional," he spat out, lips formed into a snarl. The girl nodded, clicking her tongue.

"Perhaps, I am. That's okay with me," she smiled at him again. She could breathe fine again, the chilly breeze helping her.

He didn't know what he had to do to get a reaction out of her. So he just rambled nonsense.

"Every word I said was a lie, everything I did was planned out, nothing I did was genuine. It was all a game, everything was fake. Every kiss was fake, I never wanted to kiss you. Holding your hand was awful, I lied when I said I loved your hugs. I lied when I said I couldn't sleep without you in my arms. I hated it when you wore my clothes, I acted the whole time. I never wanted you around myself, all of it, every single instance was a lie, fake, awful," he spluttered out, one after another. He didn't know if he meant all of it, at this point he didn't even know what he was saying, he just wanted a reaction. He wanted her to stop being so nice and understanding.

When he looked back at the girl he knew he struck a chord because her smile was gone and a solemn expression graced her features.

He wouldn't say she looked like she was about to cry, no. Her eyes weren't glistening like they did when they watched sad movies. Her lips weren't downturned like they did when they'd have to leave the local pet cafè.

Her brows were pulled in just the slightest, her lips pursed in a small pout and her hands gripped the strap tightly. Disappointed. She was disappointed.

"I see," she nodded, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. Then her smile was back. Seungmin just stared at her.

"Well, I hope you accomplished whatever you were trying to do. I'll leave first," she spoke firmly, although she didn't feel one bit strong. In fact, she knew she was going to cry at some point, it was just a matter of when.

Seungmin watched her with narrowed eyes as she quickly closed the distance between them. His eyes widening in panic when her arms wrapped around his waist and her cheek rested against his shoulder as she pushed up on her feet a bit.

He was frozen in place, his arms on his sides as she hugged him tightly. He looked down at the girl against his chest, her head turned away from him. He couldn't understand.

And as much as he didn't want to believe it, Seungmin knew. He knew he wouldn't understand and he would remain in that state of confusion for a long time. He knew this would bother him every time it came to mind in the future. He knew that the unsettling feeling that grew throughout the whole time would haunt him every night.

When nobody kept him company but himself in his room, lying awake at night. Staring at the ceiling, he knew he would think back at this moment. And he will be confused. But he will not have any answer to why.

Why was she smiling? Why was she not crying? Screaming? Hitting him? Cursing him out? Why was she not asking for answers? Not believing this was happening? Why was she acting so understanding? Was she acting?

He will not know, and it will eat him alive. But for now, he just stared frozen at the girl that had her arms wrapped around him.

She loosened her arms and pulled her head back, looking up at him. A sad smile on her lips as she tried to take his beautiful features in, she looked down at her shoes, arms still loosely hanging around him, not holding as tightly anymore.

They were close. Too close. Close to the point where her forehead brushed against his chin. And Seungmin would've pulled away or pushed her away harshly if it were any other person but not y/n, for he was too busy being taken off guard tonight.

Y/n slowly brought her hands up to her neck, fingers barely touching the thin necklace resting against her collarbones. Seungmin watched her, not moving, as they stood so close. He didn't know why he wasn't pulling away, why he just stood there like a mannequin.

He watched as her fingers fumbled on the back of her neck, working the clasp of the necklace he had gifted her. The necklace that meant so much to him. Now that he thought about it, he didn't know why he had given it to her, but it had felt right when he did.

A light click was heard before she slowly brought the thin chain in front of her and gently took a hold of one of his hands. She turned it palm up and dropped the necklace.

She looked up, their eyes locking, and Seungmin flinched slightly from the abrupt strong gaze. But he stood still as her hands rested on his shoulders and she pushed on her tippy toes, her soft lips coming in contact with his jaw.

"Be happy, okay? Bye, Seungmo," she whispered against the skin, his nickname rolling off of her lips as she pulled away.

His eyes trained on her retreating figure, as she walked away.

She stopped briefly in front of a bench, where a lone figure sat, a newspaper in front of their face.

"You're wearing the hat I gave you, Jisung," she murmured smiling fondly at the boy with the puffed out cheeks as he stared at her from behind the newspaper, eyes wide and big. Y/n pinched his cheek flashing him a smile and before he could say anything, she was already walking down the street again.

Seungmin stared after her. He had broken up with her, told her about his ill intentions. Then why did it feel like he broke up a real relationship?

Jisung looked at his bestfriend, then back at y/n's retreating back, then again at his friend. He knew Seungmin like the back of his hand. And what he saw on his bestfriend's face wasn't the excitement and smirk he'd usually have after breaking the nth heart. Something different was in his eyes. His face morphed in what he could decipher only as confusion. But what has he confused of? Wasn't this the norm for the guy standing in the middle of the street?

"Yah, Kim Seungmin," Jisung called for his friend's attention standing up from the bench he was sitting on. He watched gaping as Seungmin's expression changed in less than a second. His confused stare gone as he rolled his eyes and chuckled darkly, shaking his head.

"Bro, you okay?" Jisung asked hesitantly, Seungmin shot him a confused look before smiling and stretching his arms over his head. A groan leaving his lips as he relieved his aching muscles. Damn this was exhausting.

"Peachy," he said, voice back to his cheery tone. He turned around walking to his car, his friend quickly following behind him.

"Sure?" Jisung asked after the both settled in the car, Seungmin turning on the ignition and pulling out of the parking spot. He chuckled humorously.

"Why wouldn't I be, rat?" He flashed a teasing smile at his bestfriend and that seemed enough to put Jisung's worries at rest. Not before a thought flashed in his mind though. Because for once it seemed like you were caught in the middle.

Y/n on the other hand was seconds away from crumbling, and she hoped that when she did she would be out of Seungmin's eyesight. She turned the corner at the end of the street and that's when she let herself fall to pieces.

She staggered a few steps before pressing her back against the cemented wall, the tears finally rolling down her cheeks as the back of her hand pushed against her lips, in an attempt to not let out any sounds.

She swallowed harshly, throat tightening, as she tried to stop herself from making any noise and not hiccupping.

She felt physical pain she didn't know was possible feeling from a heartbreak. Her chest hurt, the base of her neck feeling like someone had their hands wrapper around her throat and was slowly squeezing.

The muted out sobs that wrecked her body too painful to bear, but even then she forced herself to stand up straight and wipe her tears away.

What was gone, was gone. There was no point in feeling miserable, she could only pretend that the Seungmin she just faced wasn't real. She could pretend that her Seungmin was the ever so caring person she fell in love it.

And she knew she was delusional and she was stupid for thinking that, but if that was the only way she could feel better about herself, then so be it.

She would be delusional.

176 notes · View notes

jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-When We Are Alone- Draco malfoy x Female Reader

☼-🐍-☼

Request: Hi! Before anything, I just want to say your writing has been living rent free in my mind, like I'd literally just be washing the dishes and I'll smile like an idiot because I remember that one imagine hehe.

Can I request an imagine where Draco and Y/n are in a relationship, but they started off as friends in their friend group along with Pansy, Theo and Blaise. They like to keep it private but everybody knows they're together. But the thing is, reader is the one who isn't used to affection that's why she asked Draco to just act like normal friends when others are around which even reluctantly, he accepts.So when they're all alone, that's when they get lovey-dovey and the reader gets all blushy.

Anddddd this is optional--- if you want to make it angst. Sometimes Draco feels as if he's not important enough for her because she's so good at not showing her affections when with others so he tries to avoid her. Reader thought it was just normal because they're not always sweet and romantic. But one day, someone who kept flirting with her was trying to persuade her into a relationship and kept saying Draco and her didn't seem real at all but while they were talking they didn't know Draco was eavesdropping. He didn't want to meddle in yet because he's so curious to know what she thinks too BUT THEN THE READER LIKE CONFESSED ALL HER LOVE FOR DRACO TO THE GUY, SAYING THINGS LIKE YOU MAY NOT SEE ME ALWAYS CLINGING AROUND HIM BUT HE'S LIKE MY WHOLE WORLD or something hehe so like really fluffy after. Anyway, dear. It's alright if you reject this though hehe but thank you in advance and thank you for writing amazing stories. Ily 💖

Kody: Not me googling when is it okay to say i love you. What am i? A ROBOT!

House: Slytherin

Possible Triggers/Warnings: cursing, cormac mclaggen, insecure Draco, blaise and theo being cute as hell.

☼-🐍-☼

Six months ago

as you sat on the sofa of the common room you felt a cold chill run through you. Even in the dungeons it was still cold. To be fair, you were only wearing a black tank top and a pair of mens boxers. There comfy, don’t judge. You had been waiting for your friends to wake up in the common room.

the first two to come out were Blaise and Theo, holding hands, Theo was rubbing his eyes “Morning Y/n” Blaise smiles and you wave to him. Blaise sits on the loveseat and pulls Theo into in his lap who just lays his head on his chest and closes his eyes.

you smile slightly at them. They were so cute together. You wonder what it was like being in a relationship. In all 17 years of your life you had never once been with somebody romantically. No one seemed to like you in that way. You longed for somebody to love and cherish you. What a childish dream now.

“Sup bitches” and there was Pansy, she was wearing what looked liked Ginny’s Quidditch sweater. “Hey Pans” you say as she sits down on the floor in front of the sofa “Is Theo sleeping again?” Pansy says quite loudly, causing Blaise to hush her “Yes he is. So tone it down” he spoke

Pansy held her hands up in surrender, choking back a laugh “Okay sorry. Anyway, Where’s Draco? He’s usually up first. Think he overslept?” she says, leaning back against the sofa you sat on. “Think? I know he overslept. I snuck into his room to get an extra pillow for Theo and he was still awake”

Blaise laughs lightly, making Pansy’s eyes go wide “What time was it?” she asked. “three am in the morning” he replies. You look over at him and tilt your head “Did you ask why?” you ask. Blaise tenses up a bit before answering “Um- He just told me to shove off. You know Draco. He’s cranky when tired.”

you nod slowly. Seemed like Draco enough. “Oh okay. I’m going to check up on him. Can one of you guys bring breakfast here?” you ask, climbing off the couch and stepping onto the cold floor. Pansy raises her hand and gives you a thumbs up “I’ll do it!- Oh shit sorry” she says and lowers her voice instantly.

Blaise shoots her a glare as Theo stirs in his arms. You chuckle before walking out the common room and into the boys hall, leaving the three Slytherins alone. As Pansy watches you leave she turns to Blaise “’He told me to shove off’? Really? That’s the best you could up with?”

Blaise rolls his eyes as he waves his hand around “What was i supposed to say? Yeah Draco was up all night because he can’t stop thinking about you. Oh also everytime he sleeps he has dreams about you, cause that was the best option Pans” he huffs. Pansy groans before walking out the common room.

back to you

as you walked your mind wandered to Draco himself. You hoped he had been taking care of himself. He was your best friend and you wanted the best for him or maybe you told yourself that to convince yourself that you didn’t have a crush on him. You had been friends with Draco since you came to Hogwarts.

feelings never really developed until last year and it’s like you finally saw him. The little things he did like grab your hand randomly or always fixing your hair became less platonic for you. A weird feeling would invade your stomach and your face would feel hot.

it was strange because you had never felt this way about anyone. Especially Draco. You decided to not tell him in fear that he would reject you and it would break up your friend group. You liked him, but you loved your friends and you weren’t about to let some feelings ruin your friendships.

soon enough you were at Draco’s door. Please be wearing a shirt. Please be wearing a shirt. You knock twice and are surprised as the door pushes open. Had Blaise forgot to close it when he left Draco’s room the room the previous night? You slowly push the door open to see Draco laying in bed.

as you walk in you close the door, being careful with your steps. You tip toe over to his bed, the wooden floor creaking under your feet every couple seconds. You didn’t want to be loud and wake him up in a rude manner. Finally reaching him, you place your hand on his shoulder and gently shake it.

“Draco, it’s time to get up. We have breakfast out in the common room and-” Draco grabs your hand and pulls you into the bed. You fall on your back as Draco holds your arm above you head, hovering over you. Your face heated up like all the times before, feeling small under his gaze.

as his grey eyes scanned over you he sighs deeply “What’re doing in here?” he asked, weirdly casual. “P- Pansy’s getting breakfast and i wanted to make sure you ate. Why did you throw me on your bed?” you fired back with a question of your own. “I was having a dream. Thought i was till in it when i woke up” he says, oddly casual again.

you make an ‘O’ shape with your mouth and nod “Okay. What happened to cause this?” you gesture to the situation by tugging your hand in his firm grip. He seemed to tense at your question before his head dropped in what seemed like shame “I’m sorry for this” he spoke.

okay, now you were extra confused. “Sorry for what-” then it happened. His cold lips crashed down onto yours in a swift motion leaving you frozen in shock. Oh Merlin. What do you do?! You like him right? and this means he might like you, right? So kiss him you fool!

your mind finally stopped debating and you leaned into the kiss, trying to kiss him back. It was way more easy then you imagined. After a couple seconds more you both pulled away from the kiss. Both panting to get air into your lungs. After that makeout session you both talked, for hours.

Draco admitted his feelings for you and you did the same. Turns out you were wrong, it didn’t ruin your guys friendship in the slightest. Blaise, Theo, and Pansy thought it was adorable and were really happy for you both. It was a relief really that everything turned out well. You were Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend.

☼-🐍-☼

Present

the day was slowly coming to an end as you and your friends ate dinner. You feel Draco’s hand on yours under the table and smile lightly. At least no one could see. You didn’t care much for public displays of affection. You didn’t even know how to act like a couple in public, really.

you expressed these feelings with Draco and he agreed, not wanting you to be uncomfortable. So behind closed doors you two were the cutest you could be. “Well, i’m done. How ‘bout you Y/n” Draco turns his head to face you as you place the silver fork on the wooden table. “Yeah i’m finished”

Draco gets up from his seat and holds out his hand for you to help you get up. You take his hand and he helps you out of your seat. You let go as you both begin to walk out the dining hall. “They both know that they left us right?” Pansy asked, watching the couple walk away.

Theo chuckles as he takes a bite of a muffin he was eating “I think it’s cute that Draco just wants her all to himself” he coos, leaning his head on Blaises shoulder. Blaise nods in agreement with his boyfriend “I wonder what Y/n’s like behind closed doors considering she barely acts like his girlfriend”

Theo wacks Blaise shoulder with a offended look “Hey! How she deals with her emotions is no ones business but her’s. Bad Blaise. No kisses” he pouts. Blaise just blinked mindlessly before grinning “Okay, fine. No kisses” he says, watching as Theo’s pout turned into a frown “No, wait. I want kisses”

☼-🐍-☼

after walking out both you and Draco went into his dorm where you were now cuddling on his bed. “Hm. Your so warm” Draco hums as he digs his head into the crook of your neck. Your face heats up and you let out an embarrassed whine “Draco” you could practically feel his smirk.

“darling don’t say my name that way” he speaks in a strained tone as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice. Draco was an immense tease. You couldn’t help but smile though. “I’m sorry” you push out your bottom lip in a pout.

Draco removes his head from your neck to look at your face, smirk still on his face. “Don’t pout. I like the way you smile when we are alone.” he spoke, his hand reaching up to grace over your cheek and push a strand of hair away from your face. You crack a small smile and so does he “There it is”

he leans in a pecks your lips gently “So beautiful” and he continues to whisper praises to you as he kisses each part of your face. Not even stopping once you began to laugh from the ticklish feeling. “Draco! stop!” you say through fits of laughter. You hear him chuckle evilly, which wasn’t good at all.

after a couple minutes he stops “Tired?” he asked, hovering over you with a loving smile on his face. You nod slowly, your face a deep shade of pink. he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead “Want to sleep in my room tonight?” he asked, since you never had before.

“I don’t mind” you spoke in a whisper. He smiled brightly as he lifts off his wand and with a wave the lights turn off. He shuffles around to grab the top of his black silk blanket and place it over the both of your bodies. You turn to lay on your side, facing the wall. A position you found comfortable.

Draco lays behind her, also on his side. His chest was pressed against your back while his arm was wrapped around you. He presses one final kiss to your temple before closing his eyes, whispering a goodnight. It was the first time the both of you slept in the same bed and you liked it.

☼-🐍-☼

Two Weeks Later

as much as Draco cared for you, his demons sometimes got the best of him. The nagging thought in the back of his head telling him he was nothing to you just became louder and louder. It didn’t help that you were perfect at not showing your feelings for him in public.

we all have our days where we let our demons control our thoughts and this was one of them for Draco. He woke up in a depressed and angered state and decided that seeing you today was just to much for him. So he planned to ignore you all day and hide away in his dorm after.

for you it was just a normal day. Being romantic with Draco in public was just something that never happened, so when he purposely ignored you, you saw nothing strange about it. You did begin to question the almost dirty looks he gave you or when you went up to him to ask him something and he just walked away.

in the middle of the day you were in potions class. What was strange was that when you walked in Draco wasn’t in his seat, which was next to you. Instead he was sitting next to Blaise, which also meant that you were going to have to partner up with Cormac Mclaggen. Ew.

once Snape gave you your assignment you collected the ingredients and made your way back to your desk. “Hi i’m Cormac by the way” the Gryffindor boy spoke. You look at him and smile politely “Y/n” you said before placing the moonstone into a mortar and pestle to ground it up.

he looks at the various ingredients and smiles shyly “I wasn’t listening to Snape. What are we making again?” of course. “A draught of peace potion. Can you put in the syrup of hellebore for me?” you ask and he nos quickly before picking it up. He pours a few drops as instructed and begins to stir it.

After the moonstone is crushed you pour it into the cauldron and he stirs that up as well “Wow, your like really good at potions” he spoke and you nod once “It’s just easy for me i guess” you shrug your shoulders. “Wow, smart and beautiful. Your quite a catch Y/n” he smirks lightly, which rubs you the wrong way

you just give him a half smile before continuing to ground up porcupine quills and a unicorn horn. In the end. You got the best potion and were rewarded a small vile of a draught of peace. You were happy you passed, but were not please when Cormac wrapped his arm around you, but you pushed it off.

☼-🐍-☼

after class you were walking outside to make your way to Hagrid’s hut to help care for buckbeak when you hear somebody shouting your name “Y/n!” you turn around and watch as Cormac runs up to you “Yes?” you say, stopping in your tracks. “I wanted you to have this” he says and reaches into his robe.

Draco was walking outside to catch his breath. Seeing Cormac drool over you and you doing nothing about it was eating up outside and he needed some fresh air before he blew up and beat the living shit out of Cormac. That’s when he heard you and the Gryffindor and decided to listen in and watch behind a pillar.

Cormac pulls out the draught of peace and hands it to you. You smile kindly and take it from his hands “Thank you” he smiles back “So i was wondering. Would you like to go out with me sometimes?” he asked. Well shit. You sigh deeply and shake your head “I’m sorry, but i already have a boyfriend Cormac”

his face drops “Who?” he asked in a slightly irritated voice, which catches you off guard. “Um Draco Malfoy?” you said, taking a step back. He clicks his tongue as a bitter laugh comes from his mouth “Draco Malfoy? You two may act like best friends, but not lovers”

you took slight offense to that, but it was true. You didn’t like pda because you didn’t have the slightest clue on how to be a public couple. But screw this guy. “Excuse me? What i do with Draco in public is none of your concern Cormac” you go to storm off when he grabs your arm, forcing you back.

“If your lying to play hard to get it worked. Why would Malfoy ever go out with someone who doesn’t even pay attention to him during the day” his smirk very prominent and very gross. You rip your arm away from him, causing him to stumble a bit.

“You have no right to say that to me! Just because i am not hanging off of him every second of every day does not me i don’t cherish him! He’s everything to me and i don’t deserve him at all! and i just realized that he may leave me today or tomorrow or in a hour! and i can’t believe it took me this long to realize that i’m so hopelessly in love with him. Nonetheless, fuck you, you fucking pervert!”

your words were laced with venom, leaving the Gryffindor shocked. You pulled your wand out and hold his against his neck “Never, ever touch me or i’ll end you. Understand me?” you whisper, your face close to his. His eyes widen in fear before nodding quickly. “Then go!” you shout.

he falls back and you watch as he struggles to get up before running away. That’s why Draco had been ignoring you, because he doesn’t think you love him. Tears flowed down your face, sobs wracking throughout your body. You were going to lose him and it was all your fault.

you drop your wand to wipe your face from the overflowing of warm tears. As you go to drop to your knees so you could cry on the floor, arms wrap around your waist and in fear of it being Cormac you open your eyes to see Draco, crying? “Draco?” you choke out.

he cracks a smile and nods “Yeah” he says and reaches up to wipe a tear running down your cheek. Your eyes widen in realization “You heard all of that didn’t you. Draco i’m so sorry-” he hushes you and pulls you into a hug “Don’t. I let my insecurities get the best of me. Hearing you say you love me was enough to bring me back to reality and that i’m going to murder Mclaggen”

you laugh quietly and sniffle “I do love you and i want you to know that i’m going to show you more public affection from now on” you nod sternly. He pulls away from the hug, shaking his head “Love, you don’t have to do that” he says. You wave you head, shaking your head.

“I want everyone to know that i’m yours and you are mine, because if a girl ever did that to you. I’d kill her” this time Draco laughs, a grin forming on his face “I think i’m a bad influence. You’re starting to sound like me” you smile and reach up to grab his face “I love you Draco” you speak.

you lean your forehead against his watching his smile grow wider “I love you too Y/n. To the moon and back and i’ll never forget it again” he presses a kiss to your lips, one that you return quickly. It was passionate and slightly sloppy due to the emotions running high between both of you.

you reach behind his neck to tug at the platinum blond locks, a groan slipping past his lips. Draco pulls away, panting heavily “Holy shit you need to kiss me like that more often” he smiled widely. You chuckle and lean in to kiss him again, but he stops you “What?” you say, but he pecks your lips quickly. “I love you and we can continue this later in my dorm preferably, but i have Gryffindor to 'talk to’”

your eyes widen as he lets go of you and pulls out his wand. He begins to walk back into the school. You lean down and collect your wand before running to catch up with him “Draco! You can not kill Cormac!” you shout and he smirks. “I’m just going to talk to him Y/n” he spoke.

“With your wand!?”

☼-🐍-☼

Kody: Cormac slander is the only slander i know. I hope you enjoyed this one, cause it was long. Anyways, peace!

218 notes · View notes

scabopolis · 3 years

Note

Ummm because my brain could never come up with something as genius as yours, I will ask—nay, BEG—for more LoVe Vampire AU from Day 1 AU week.

Title: do not engage (part two of this little ficlet) Rating: PG-13 (some swears…because girl is still stressed) Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Additional Tags: Secret identity, vaguely vampire hunter related things, filed under: relationship obstacles, sharing of bagels, vampire Logan is probably far too schmoopy, tried to write angst but whooops I think it's fluff? Word Count: 1,800

For you, dear, @ayy-ohh? Anything. This one really got me stuck because...like...world building? What is that? And would vampires eat bagels? And why DOES Logan have a cell in his basement? So many questions. Anyway! Here it is! *** That she can’t remember ever seeing Logan Echolls in the daylight should have been Veronica’s first clue.

It’s just, given the nocturnal demands of her profession and thus her morning grumpiness, it was easy to miss. Easy to be grateful for. Easy to be relieved that Logan wasn’t like her college boyfriend—the kind of guy who insisted they wake up at 6:00 AM to go running and felt a day spent inside with the shades drawn was a day wasted.

There were, of course, other clues she missed.

Weirdly cryptic statements and obfuscations. (Given she was also prone to said crypticism, she didn’t press for fear he’d do the same.) His reticence towards beach days. (It seemed logical! Who doesn’t hate dodging tourists?) The weird way he’d linger at doorways of unfamiliar houses. (Again, given her own antipathy to socializing, his hesitation was something she understood.)

In retrospect, given that not pressing Logan on his vague answers landed her here—in a weird cell gnawing at the ropes her ex-boyfriend tied tightly around her wrists—she supposes she should have tried harder. She hears Logan’s footsteps on the stairs into the basement but doesn’t stop her attempt to undo the knots.

“I hope you have a good dental plan,” Logan says. She rolls her eyes and continues to work at the strands with her teeth. “Is there even a vampire hunter’s union? Might be something worth looking into. Though, given the general mistrust the position requires, electing a president might prove tricky.”

“God, staking you would have at least gotten you to shut up.”

“But then there’s the crushing guilt.”

“I would have managed.”

Do not engage. In the 36-ish hours she’s been in this cell, that’s been her motto. The secret to coping with the fact that your boyfriend is a vampire and that you and your dad are vampire hunters is to remain detached and cold.

Except it hasn’t been easy. Because her wrists hurt, she smells bad, and oh yeah, apparently she’s not as out of love with the bloodthirsty monster wearing the hell out of a henley and holding a bag of takeout as she thought.

“I got bagels,” he says.

As soon as he says it, the scent of cinnamon raisin wafts from the bag. He doesn’t wait for her to stand; simply slips the paper bag containing her bagel through the bars and slides it to her. Much like he’s done for their previous shared meals, he sits on the ground a safe distance from her and settles into eating his own.

She tears the paper bag and sees that not only has Logan brought her a bagel, he’s also brought her some sort of sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. God. What an asshole.

What is his endgame here? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. It’s only a matter of time until her dad begins to question whatever story Logan texted him from her phone. Her dad will show up and he will have questions. What will Logan say then?

“What will I say to who?” Logan asks.

Shit. Detachment is also easier when inside thoughts remain inside thoughts. “No one.”

“If you’re talking about your dad, he’s out of town for the rest of the week.”

She concentrates on the pattern of the cinnamon swirl laced throughout her breakfast. “What do you mean?”

“According to the text he sent you last night, he had to go to Vegas. Vampire gambling ring of some sort?”

“You’re lying.”

“Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and takes a large bite of her bagel, surveying the interior of her holding cell. And yes, fine, she technically has a policy of not engaging with the pointy fanged one, but she has questions.

“What is the point of having a cell in your basement? Is it for weird sex stuff? Or weird vampire stuff?”

“Who says those two things are mutually exclusive?”

She rolls her eyes. “Spare me, please. I’m eating.”

“I’ll tell you but you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“My friend, Mac?” He extends his legs out in front of him. “Once a month, this is her guest suite.”

Veronica frowns. “For weird sex stuff?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement which, fair, she should probably stop using the phrase weird sex stuff.

Wait. Is he saying—?

“Logan,” she says carefully, “is Mac a werewolf?” He nods, and Veronica’s bagel drops to the floor. “Could you be more of a vampiric cliche? Honestly! Does a zombie do your taxes? Does a ghoul trim your hedges?”

“I trim my own hedges, thank you very much.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or it might be the remaining vestiges of adrenaline leaving her body, but Veronica laughs. Just a little bit. At best it’s a chuckle. Still, it’s enough to make Logan smile in that way he sometimes does—like he can’t believe his luck that he even gets to be in the same room as Veronica. It makes something feel heavy and uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. Do not engage.

“You really didn’t know?” she asks.

Logan’s answer with a slow nod. “I didn’t know.”

“Then how—?”

“It wasn’t an ambush, Veronica.” He pinches off a small piece of his bagel. (Sourdough, she guesses. Probably with jalapeno cream cheese because the man added jalapenos to everything.) She watches as Logan rolls the bread between his fingers. “The date was real but one of Dick’s friends recognized you somehow.”

“You were the one who threw me into a tree.”

“Yeah, and as far as they know, you’re dead. As far as they know, I was so enraged a vampire hunter tricked me that I took you home to finish you off.”

“Which means if you let me go—”

“They’ll know I lied.” He shrugs. “Either they kill me or your dad does. This way you’re safe.”

“Logan—”

“Sorry,” he says. “You called dibs on the killing?”

“Poor little vamp with a death wish.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound so fond. What is wrong with her?

The corner of his mouth twitches with a fleeting smile. There’s a ticking clock on their time together and now they both know it.

“I’ve never seen a vampire eat as much food as you,” she says.

He sets his bagel aside. “Dine with a lot of vampires?”

“Enough to know you eating that bagel is like me eating a bag of sour gummies.”

“Meaning?”

“You might like the taste of a lightly toasted sesame bagel, but an hour later you need to puncture the carotid artery of a single mother to really satisfy yourself.”

“You know sesame seeds get caught in my teeth. And single mothers come with too much guilt.”

“Hedge fund managers?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Veronica has questions, of course she does. More questions than she can properly express—wonders how old he is, who turned him, who gets him blood and how, why he’s friends with Dick Casablancas, if Logan is safe with Dick as a friend—but she doesn’t ask any of those. Because he asks the most important question first.

“What are we going to do, Veronica?”

She stands up, brushes cinnamon raisin crumbs off of her pants. (She catches a whiff of her unshowered self and cringes. So much for their farewell existing as a perfectly preserved memory in the mind of her undead ex-boyfriend.) “There’s no we, Logan. There can’t be.”

He can’t let her go, he can’t keep her locked up, and she can’t stay.

Logan pushes himself up off the ground and comes to meet her at the bars to the cell. “Yeah.”

“First, you’re going to let me out of here.” She wraps her hands around the bars. Logan does just like she’d hoped and does the same, his pinkies barely grazing her knuckles. “And then I never want to see you ever again.”

“That’s what you want?”

God. What a fucking idiot. Of course that isn’t what she wants. What she wants is to go back two days. To return to that night when Logan made pancakes for dinner, and they got drunk on rum and cokes, and then he kissed down her spine as they lay in bed.

She nods anyway. Presses her head against the bars.

“Fine.” Veronica squeezes her eyes shut. “If you ever need anything?” She nods again and she feels the gentle touch of Logan’s lips to her forehead. How is he always so warm? It never made sense.

“I won’t.”

And then, much to her surprise, he walks away. Without letting her out.

She opens her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he says, a portrait of portrait insouciance once more. “You didn’t expect me to let you go now did you? What if this show of emotion is a long con? I could wake up to find you standing over my body poised to pull back my black out shades.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Nighty night, Veronica.”

Logan doesn’t return to the basement and eventually she falls into a fitful sleep, waking up sometime before the sun rises. She definitely needs to pee and she’s so sick of the ‘toilet’ in her cell. Logan should still be awake. Maybe if she yells really—

Finishing that thought proves to be unnecessary because as soon as Veronica’s eyes adjust to the dim light, she notices the door to her cell is ajar. She’s barely thinking as she jumps from the bed and races up the stairs.

“Logan!” she calls out.

Her first stop is the kitchen, where she maneuvers a knife in between the strands of the ropes around her wrists and works to free herself. Her cell phone is waiting for her on the wireless charger Logan keeps in the kitchen. No messages from her dad, but she sends one to check in. She rubs at the tender skin on her wrists as she searches each room of Logan’s house.

As far as she can tell, there isn’t much missing. Some of his toiletries are gone (her toothbrush is still beside the sink) and she thinks maybe some of his clothes too. His motorcycle is still in the garage but the BMW is gone.

So. That’s it? He’s just gone? What about his house? There’s a housing crisis in southern California and this asshole thinks it’s acceptable to simply abandon a perfectly good home? He didn’t even leave a note.

It’s really the irresponsibility that—

Her call rings through to his voicemail. Rolls her eyes at the Dylan Thomas quote that greets her. That’s new.

“If you think I’m watering your plants for you while you’re gone, you are completely delusional.”

He responds while she’s in the shower. (What? She’s really supposed to put up with shitty water pressure at her place when he has a rain shower and heated bathroom tiles?)

Miss me already?

She responds with a garlic emoji.

#vm fanfic #lv fanfic #logan x veronica #veronica mars #logan echolls #still all the way out of my comfort zone!#but here we are! doing the damn thing anyway #never stories #otp: the one person #c: veronica mars #c: logan echolls #p: logan x veronica

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vilevampire · 3 years

Text

“Isn’t it Love?” (One Shot)

Thank you @ducksoup17 for helping me beta read this :) Rating: General audiences Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks Pairing: Louie Duck x B.O.Y.D Summary: Boyd thinks he might be in love. 1.805 words Ao3 Link

"Dr. Dad?"

Gyro stopped writing in his notebook.

Right now, there were only him and Boyd in the lab.

He dropped his pen to focus his full attention on his son.

"Yes, 2B— I mean… Boyd?"

"What is love like?"

Gyro blinked his eyes.

"Pardon?"

"What does romantic attraction feel like?"

"Boyd, who taught you those words?"

"The internet." Boyd chirped happily.

Gyro scratched his head with a grunt.

"Those are not things for you to worry about. Why would you even want to know this?" He reached out to his coffee mug and took a sip.

"It's because I think that I might be in love, Dr. Dad." Boyd explained a little awkwardly.

Gyro suddenly spat his coffee in a coughing fit.

Startled, Boyd reached out to pat his father's back lightly.

When Gyro could finally stop coughing, he screeched:

"IN LOVE?! With who? How? Since when?!"

Boyd put his hands on his back while looking bashfully at the floor.

"I don't know. It started somewhat recently." Gyro couldn't help but notice that Boyd had avoided his first question. The more his son talked, the more color drained away from his face. "I've been experiencing confusing feelings when talking to and thinking about a specific person. I searched for answers online and the results said that I might be in love."

Gyro massaged his temples with a groan.

Boyd, being the smart kid he is, immediately noticed his father's unrest. Carefully, he approached Gyro and spoke up:

"Dr. Dad?" He hesitated. "Am I… bad for feeling this way?"

Gyro looked down at his child.

Boyd had already grown far beyond a simple robot ages ago. He had surpassed all of Gyro's expectations and, to this day, he was still his greatest creation.

Boyd deserved much better than a grumpy dad.

Alas, Gyro really wasn't cut out for this whole father and son thing.

With a sigh, Gyro pulled Boyd into a hug, which was quickly reciprocated.

"You're not bad for having feelings, Boyd. I was just surprised, that's all." He pushed his son away gently. "However, I don't think I'm the right person to explain more about this subject to you."

Boyd looked at his father with a frown. His Dr. Dad was the smartest person he knew. He always had the solutions for everything.

If he couldn't give him the answer to his dilemma, who else could?

—————

Boyd knocked on the elegant wooden door.

"Doofus?"

…

No response.

He knocked again. This time, he heard a grumble come from inside. Boyd turned the doorknob and pushed it open.

"What do you want, you lousy piece of machinery?" Doofus pierced him with his eyes. He was currently in the middle of… something.

His head was dripping wet and a bucket full of water could be seen in his hands.

Fortunately, Boyd had already learned long ago not to question his older brother's strange pastime activities.

"Brother, what is love like?"

Doofus stopped whatever the hell he was doing to look up at Boyd.

"And why would you like to know that, hmm?"

The corners of Boyd's mouth twitched. A warm blush spread across his cheeks while he fidgeted with his thumbs.

Of course, Doofus noticed all of this.

"Ho-hooo." He eyed Boyd curiously. "Well, what do we have here? It would seem my little brother has been fiddling around?"

Boyd quietly tapped his feet on the floor. Maybe Doofus wasn't the right person to ask about this after all.

"Well, you're in luck. You've come to the right person."

Boyd looked up at him.

"I did?"

"Yes." Doofus got up from his chair to pace around his room, gesturing wildly at his brother. "You see, Boyd, love is like sweet, sticky honey, and the self-sacrificing bees that make it. It's the rush of fresh air you feel after getting locked inside a room for two weeks, it's that moment when you realize chickens can't fly despite having wings."

Boyd furrowed his brows while listening to Doofus' rant.

"I don't think I get it."

Doofus smirked weirdly at him. He patted his brother's shoulder reassuringly.

"Someday you will, brother. Someday you will."

...As it turns out, Doofus wasn't the right person to ask about this after all.

—————

"Huey, can I ask you something?"

Huey looked up from his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook to gaze at Boyd. The two of them were hanging out in the triplet's bedroom while Huey's brothers weren't around.

"Of course. What's up?"

"What is love like?"

Huey seemed unprepared for this question.

"Why do you want to know something like that?"

"...Why does everybody ask me that? Can't you please just tell me?" Boyd pouted while blushing a little.

Boyd was an incredibly easy person to read. Anyone with half a pair of eyes could discern the boy's emotions just from taking one look at his face.

Combine that with the fact that he was Huey's best friend, of course Huey would quickly realize what was probably going on.

"Boyd, could it be... you have a crush on someone?" Huey smiled gently at his friend. "That's adorable. Who is it? Can you tell me?" He poked Boyd teasingly.

Boyd pondered over this.

Huey was his best friend in the whole world.

Maybe it would be okay if he told him?

Boyd shifted around nervously, the soft blush on his cheeks becoming increasingly stronger.

"...ouie..."

"Hm?"

"...I think—" Boyd took a deep breath. "I think I like... Louie..."

Huey suddenly closed his book with a heavy-sounding thud.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again:

"You have a crush on Louie? My brother Louie?!"

Boyd nodded shyly.

Huey became speechless. The gears started turning in his head.

Should he tell Boyd how Louie felt about him?

No, no, Louie himself had to be the one to do it.

"Have you considered confessing to him?"

Boyd fiddled with his thumbs as he spoke:

"I have, but... I'm not sure. What if—" He hesitated. "What if he doesn't feel the same way about me?"

Slowly, Boyd's eyes widened and his pupils constricted, tears threatening to escape.

"Huey— Huey, what if he doesn't like me back? What if he doesn't like robots?" Boyd's breath became erratic as he began twisting and pulling on Huey's bedsheets. "What if he actually hates me? Wha-"

"Hey! Boyd, calm down, please." Huey held onto his friend's face forcefully but gently. "It's okay. Look at me. I'm here. Please focus on your breathing. You'll get through this, okay?"

Boyd stared into Huey's eyes without blinking, a single tear quietly running down his cheek. He closed his eyes abruptly and sniffed.

Huey pulled him into a hug.

"It's okay."

"I'm here for you."

"You're not a bother."

"You're a real person."

"None of us hate you."

"You're more than just a robot."

He spent many minutes saying comforting words to his friend until Boyd's silent cries eventually calmed down.

This wasn't the first time they had done this.

"Boyd, listen to me," Huey spoke kindly but firmly, still holding his friend in his arms. "Nobody hates you, okay? Especially not Louie. He's your friend."

He could feel Boyd give a weak nod under his grasp, so he kept going:

"And you're my best friend, alright? I could never hate you. You're an amazing person who's going through a lot right now." He paused. "You should consider opening up to Louie about how you feel."

Boyd held tightly onto the back of Huey's clothes.

"Are you sure? Do you think it's a good idea?"

"Yes. Your heart will feel much lighter after you tell him the truth, trust me."

"...Okay. I will try."

—————

"So, did you have something you wanna tell me?" Louie crossed his legs.

He looked the same as always: hands in his pockets, nonchalant, peaceful and easy-going, yet also cunning and sharp... everything Boyd ever aspired to be.

Boyd gulped apprehensively.

"Louie, do you hate me?" He blurted out before getting straight to the point.

It was a good start.

Louie stared at him in surprise.

"What? No? Do I act like I hate you?"

Boyd bit down on his beak nervously.

"No... I just..." He looked away, his voice trailing off.

Louie decided to pick it up from there.

"Dude, you're like, one of the coolest people I know."

Boyd looked over at him again.

"And I love hanging out with you. Sometimes it feels like you're one of the only people who really get me."

"Really?" Boyd choked out. "I'm… glad you feel that way."

"Of course." Louie nodded. "I like you very much, dude. You're my friend."

Boyd's heart started racing as he struggled to get his words out.

"Actually-" He paused, opening up his beak to speak, but finding himself unable to do so.

Boyd's selective mutism was a recurring issue.

It had gotten slightly better over time, but there were still many moments where he would be too anxious to say anything out loud.

Louie was already used to this, so he patiently waited for his friend to find his voice.

However, as more seconds stretched out, the more it seemed like he couldn't. Boyd was unable to get the words out of his throat. He stood completely frozen, except for his trembling beak, silently telling the words-

"—I love you?"

Louie's face flushed red.

He read Boyd's lips and accidentally let the words slip out of his mouth.

"That's what you were trying to say, right?" He tried playing it smooth, but it was clear that he was getting flustered.

After seeing the usually silver-tongued, smug, and overly confident Louie Duck crumble into a flushing mess, Boyd finally gathered enough courage to speak up:

"I love you."

Louie closed his mouth to focus all of his attention on the robot in front of him.

"I'm not sure since when, but... I think this is what I'm feeling" His voice grew increasingly steady the more he spoke. "I'm in love with you, Louie. You're amazing in every sense of the word. You're smart, funny, observant, assertive, loyal, trustworthy, level-headed, you're pretty, you always know what to say, you're compassionate, you pick up on the little details, you understand me, you make me feel better, you're so amazing..."

Boyd stopped for a moment, trying to pry for Louie's reaction.

"Louie?"

The duck's face was completely covered by his hoodie, with his hands covering his eyes.

But even then, Boyd could still tell with the help of his heat sensors that Louie's face was definitely blushing wildly.

"Louie? Are you—"

"BATHROOM BREAK!" He suddenly exclaimed, running away as fast as he possibly could.

"...Huh."

Boyd was very confused.

He was very, very confused, but…

Huey was right about one thing at least.

His chest didn't feel as tight anymore.

#louyd #louie duck #boyd gearloose #ducktales fanfic #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #boyd #boyd drake #ducktales fanfiction #ducktales 17 #dt 17 #boyd beaks #ducktales boyd #louie ducktales #boyd ducktales #idk how else to tag this #txt #ccs #my writing

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

"Clueless" *Part 3*

Okay so my dog ended up being totally fine, and luckily I had most of this written beforehand. <3

PS- REALLY shouldn't have watched the actual movie while writing this...lulz. Count how many actual lines from the movie you catch.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Tag List:

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@wanniiieeee

@milkshqke

@gibbs274

@aprildecker-blog

@objection-argumentative

@word-scribbless

@stars-in-the-skies-world

-----

He drove back up the Beach House, but you and Ariel had abandoned it for a loft in the city, no forwarding address. He asked himself why he was putting so much effort just to get back in contact with you. He couldn’t explain it, it was like something against logic.

He dialed Ariel’s number.

IGNORE.

Redial.

IGNORE.

Text: “Answer your phone!!!”

Redial.

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk to Y/N,”

“Well she doesn't want to talk to you,”

“What did you tell her, Ariel?”

“The truth,”

“I don’t...I can’t even begin to imagine what that means in your language,”

“Oh whatever Raf, what does it matter what I told her? She’s MY friend, not yours!”

“You don’t OWN her Ariel,”

“Don’t I?” She smirked. “I feed her, I clothe her, I give her a roof to sleep under. I even gave her a cute necklace with her name on it, like a collar,” she smirked.

"You're evil," he sneered.

“I’m a saint,” She scoffed. “Do you know where that girl would be without me? Do you know the years it would take in a therapist's office to heal the emotional trauma I so selflessly saved her from? Her life will be enriched and better because of me, how many girls can say that about you?"

“Oh right, like helping her hasn’t served you any purpose?”

“What purpose could it possibly have?”

“Please, if I ever saw you do anything less than 90% selfish I’d die of shock,”

“Oh that would be reason enough for me,”

“Look, I get it. You've never had a mother so you're treating her like your personal Barbie doll,"

“And what, you wanna be her Prince Ken? Or, lawyer Ken,”

“She’s NOT a Barbie doll!”

“You’re right, she’s not. So I’m not going to let you play with her emotions,”

“What does that even mean? For fuck’s sake Ariel, I just want to be her mentor,”

“Really?” Rafael could hear her rolling her eyes through the phone. “You’re trying THIS hard to mentor some girl you met less than 24 hours ago? REALLY,” She chuckled.

“I may not be ‘Harvard’ smart BRO, but I’m not stupid. I know when a guy has let’s say, less than moral intentions with a girl,”

“It’s not like that,” He growled. “She’s a sweet girl, Ariel. And I’m not going to let you try and change her into your clone,”

“Wha--my clone? Please, Raf she could NEVER reach my level. Believe me, I’ve tried for four years. She’s a good sidekick,”

“This isn’t over,”

“Isn’t it? You have ZERO idea where we are,”

“Please, there’s maybe 5 places in Manhattan you’ll go, and they’re all on the Upper East Side. It’s not hard,”

“Well then, I guess we’ll see who’s better at hide and seek!”

CLICK.

------

Ariel rolled her eyes with a smile just as you walked in the living room.

“Who was that?” You asked, toweling your hair from the shower you had just exited.

“Mom,” She rolled her eyes. “She wanted to make sure we weren’t tearing this place up,”

“Oh?” You asked, suddenly hopeful. “Was she going to ask Rafael to check?”

“What? NO,” Ariel shut down that thought quickly. “I assured her she didn’t need to send that dog over here to sniff around you anymore,”

“Ariel,” You rolled your eyes with a sigh. “I’m a big girl,”

“I know sweetie,” She walked over and scrunched your face. “Such a big girl,”

“Whatever,” You rolled your eyes again walking back to the bedroom.

“Hey…” Ariel grabbed the TV remote. “Do you wanna watch Clueless?”

“What? ….Why?”

“I don’t know, you mentioned it yesterday and now I can’t stop thinking about a young Paul Rudd,”

“....Who looks exactly like present Paul Rudd,” You laughed.

“I know right? I want the magic face cream he must use,” She giggled as you both sat down on the couch to watch the movie.

----

“See, Cher isn’t a bad person, right? She saved Tai,” Ariel gestured to the TV.

“Am I Tai in this situation?” You eyed her.

“Well, yeah,” She shrugged. “Duh,”

“I’ll take it, I love Brittany Murphy,” You shrugged.

“RIP,” Ariel made a sign of the cross with a kiss looking up to heaven. “We should pour one out for her,”

“On your mom’s thousand dollar rug?”

“Okay, so maybe just pour one for us,”

Her phone vibrated wildly; it vibrated so hard it fell off the coffee table onto the floor. You picked it up to put it back, but you happened to glance at the screen.

BHOLE BARBA: You can’t keep her from me forever, Ariel

Wha….keep who from him? You? Did...was he...did Ariel….?

“Alright, who’s ready for mimosas?!” Ariel said in a singsongy voice as she returned with two flutes of champagne.

“What is this?” You held the phone up to her. She read it, her eyes grew wide.

“I...He’s talking about the Adele CD I borrowed from him forever ago, he’s weirdly possessive about ‘her’,”

“Ariel,” You interrupted her with a stern face.

“What?” She played dumb.

“...How could you do this to me?” You asked with a hurt expression.

“Do what?” She rolled her eyes with a laugh. “Protect you from my loser ex brother?”

“You--! Oh my god,” You couldn’t believe it. Your own best friend was trying to mess with your happiness?

“Oh come on Y/N, it’s not that big of a--” She rolled her eyes with a laugh, pissing you off even more.

“It IS a big deal!” Tears stung your eyes, you hated that you started crying when you got angry. How pathetic was that?

“Why? You can’t possibly be in love with him or something,” She scoffed.

“NO! Of course not,” You crossed your arms. “But he could help me with school, with my career! Don’t you want me to get a good job, eventually move out of here?”

“Maybe I don’t!” She yelled suddenly.

“...What?” You asked in disbelief.

“Look, Y/N,” She sighed. “I...you...we both know under normal circumstances, we would never be friends,”

“...I mean, I guess…” You shrugged.

“Oh come on,” She gave you a look. “You’d have to explain every sentence you spoke to me,” She had crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh come on Ariel,” You sighed and sat next to her. “You’re NOT stupid,”

“I’m stupider than you!” She cried.

“...More stupid,” You corrected her.

“See?” She sniffled.

“Okay, but-- still,” You took her hand. "You're my best friend. Do you think that if I don't have to live with you anymore, I won't be your friend?"

"Maybe…" She looked at the floor.

"Ariel!" You cried. "Really? Come on,"

"You come on!" She was actually getting upset now. "Look, Y/N. I don't have...friends,"

"What?" You snorted. "You have the biggest social circle I know!"

"Yeah but--" she tried to find the right words. "They're not like….friends, friends ya know? They're more like…. followers, or leeches, of--"

"Sycophants," you chuckled. She did surround herself with as many people who would tell her she was amazing as possible.

"I don't know what that means but probably, yes," She nodded. “You’re the only one who I can actually talk to, you’re like my little sister,”

“....Right, so…? You think I’ll just give all that up if I move out? If I don’t need you financially anymore?”

“Maybe…” She mumbled. “But ALSO, if that stupid asshole gets into your head about me!”

“Oh God…” You put a hand over your head. “Ariel,” You took both of her hands and looked at her very seriously.

“You are my absolute best friend in this entire world, no…’boy’ could change that! I’ve known you so long, I know you completely. Nothing he could tell me would make me turn on you, I swear it,”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“Really! You held a hand up like an oath. “AND, even if-- WHEN, I get financially stable and can live on my own two feet, I will ALWAYS be your friend,” You used the oath hand and placed it in hers again. “I swear it,”

“....Okay, but absolutely ZERO sleepovers here,”

“Oh, my god, ARIEL,” You gasped. “I JUST want to talk to him about law stuff!”

“Yeah, that’s what he said too,” She rolled her eyes, not believing either of you.

“He did?” You felt your face fall.

“Ah HA! See? Disappointment!”

“Shut up,” You hit her. “I don’t care, we should just be professional anyway,”

“Uh huh,” She nodded sarcastically.

“Are you going to give me his number or not?” You gave her a look.

“No,”

“ARIEL,” You crossed your arms.

“No, then you’re going to immediately call him and give him ALL the power,” She wagged a finger at you. “I’m going to give him YOUR number, and if he calls you, he calls you,”

“Ariel…” You gave her another look.

“What? You don’t believe me?” She feigned offense.

“I really don’t,” You shook your head.

“Alright FINE,” She pulled out her phone and opened her texts with Rafael, typed in your number and hit SEND.

“Happy?” She showed you her phone.

“....Maybe,” You hid the giddiness that was building in your stomach.

Almost IMMEDIATELY after sending the text, your phone lit up wildly.

“Good god I’m gonna get out of here before the nerdy phone sex starts,” She ran out of the room with her mimosa in tow.

“Shut up!” You hissed, mentally preparing yourself for this phone call. The phone call you’d been waiting for for days, even when you thought he was a “player”. You took a deep breath and hit ANSWER:

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah who’s this?” You asked coyly.

“It’s...Rafael, Barba…”

“I’m sorry, who?” You teased.

“Ariel’s….brother?” He skipped the asterisk that went along with “Brother”.

“Ohhhh right right right,” You nodded, keeping him nervous. “Yeah, Ariel told me all about you,”

“I knew it,” He growled thinking about Ariel and her lies. “Whatever she said, she’s lying,”

“Oh so you don’t want to be my mentor?”

“Wha--?” He was shocked. Did Ariel actually change her mind? Or dare he think...a change of heart?

“Yes! I mean, I do! I absolutely do!” He may have said that a little too overzealous, so he dialed it back. “I mean, if I have some time I’d be up for it, if that’s okay with you,”

“I might, maybe…” You were twirling your hair in your fingers. “When do you think you might have time?”

“Well you know I was thinking--” He started, but there was a knock at the door.

“Oh sorry, one second,” You got up and walked over to the door and swung it open to reveal Rafael standing there, right in front of you. He was dressed in a black suit with a pink tie. As amazing as he looked in street clothes, you thought you might mount him right there in that suit.

“I have some time right now,” He smiled, acting as if he was still on the phone. You couldn’t help yourself, you leapt into his arms and kissed him, HARD.

-------

“Hello? Y/N?”

You snapped back to reality, Rafael was talking to you on the phone.

“Oh! Um, Yeah, sorry what?”

“I said I have some time right now, if you wanna meet for coffee or something,” He half laughed, still enchanted by your awkwardness.

“Yes! Sure! I...let me just get dressed, just text me the address, I’ll meet you in a few,” You were so glad he couldn’t see how beet red you were from that little fantasy you had just been in.

“Sounds good,” You could hear him smile; even through the phone it made you weak in the knees.

You hung up and ran to Ariel’s room, hoping she’d help you get dressed.

What could you wear to impress him?

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #clueless #rafael barba imagine

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sprawa-przybyszewskiej · 3 years

Text

I would like to present (extremely briefly; it's more of an invitation to their thoughts rather than anything else) two approaches that touch on a creative technique used by Przybyszewska, which has been spotted by some of her scholars, albeit each in its own way. Ewa Graczyk maintains that Przybyszewska did not write a historical drama in any way, but rather described a completely different reality, an universum in which the same events happen, but which doesn't take place on Earth, with us in it. She describes, then, something which I call The French Revolution', taking after mathematics' nomenclature. Kazimiera Ingdahl, on the other hand, spots traces of gnostic and manichean ideologies in Przybyszewska's writing, which, as we all know, are based solidly on the contrast between Heaven and Hell, knowledge and numbness, soul and mind. I mention them here solely to point out there is a dualism in her works, it is important and easily recognizable.

I have nowhere near the amount of erudition these scholars do, so I will constrict myself to some more visible matters. In my previous post about Antoine, I've made a remark that stuck with me for far longer than I had expected, and so I decided to elaborate on it.

The passage I'm talking about is this: because it could potentially reveal Saint-Just as another Danton-like minded individual, looking for power for himself through sacrifices of others. I want to explore whether Przybyszewska really did construct both of them alike?

To me it appears very probable, as crazy as it sounds. First of all, ALL of the personages are created in some reference to Robespierre. He is the only singular, original mind amongst them all, not to mentoin an axis around which other revolve, and so all of them, whether we like it or not, are somewhat similar to each other. Second of all, she clearly went in the direction of mirroring certain scenes, ideas, expressions (which I personally love to track down and compare them later), and it's exactly the same when talking about certain individuals. The two pairs (Robespierre – Saint-Just and Danton – Desmoulins) come to mind right away. They are constructed as parallels at least in some aspects and at least to some extent.

Wouldn't that, however, put Saint-Just and Desmoulins on the same/similar level, aren't they the ones who creat a parallel pair? Well, yes and no. I think they are a unit when it comes to personal matters, for rather obvious reasons. But I also think they are both put in similar situations, and yet their thinking is polar opposite of each other. They are both allowed to Robespierre's most personal sphere, and yet their reactions are completely different, which is one among the reasons as to why one of them meets a sad end by all accounts, and the other can die somewhat happy (as I will always mantain: if Przybyszewska managed to finish Thermidor, I am one hundred percent sure she would depict Antoine as one dying boldly and proudly, if only beause he died for a great cause and alongside Robespierre). On the other hand, spiritually and mentally, Camille resembles Maxime way, way more than Danton. They are both... maybe not exactly soft, but emotional. The main difference between them is Maxime is able to rein his feelings in when necessary (again, not always, not completely; vide his late night visit at Desmoulins', vide his attempt and saving him from the Luxembourg Palace), but as far as differences go, this one is actually minor. They are put in different positions, but their reactions are similar.

I would also wager to say Saint-Just and Robespierre don't have that much in common with each other in the plays, leaving out their political stances and their relationship. They are very different in terms of character traits: Maxime is more forgiving, calmer, quieter in all aspects. Antoine is more of a quicksilver, and also is regarded more as a tool in Maxime's hands, which I mean in the best way possible. While he has his own opinions, sometimes quite different to that of Robespierre's, he only entertains them in Maxime's presence, so that no one can put a splinter between them and turn them against each other. When they are turned against each other (during their quarrels, yes, but also during Thermidor, which is a beautiful study of such a case), he defers to Maximilien humbly and holds no grudges against him. This is pretty much the only soft side he ever presents to the audience, for when facing any other characters, he is sarcastic if not downright hostile, the only exception I can think of being Eleonore. He's not gentle, not even with Robespierre whom he respects so much. (I cannot get over how badly Wajda interpreted this in his movie, where in his very first scene Antoine brings Maxime an apple-tree branch in full blossom; while a sweet gesture, it made little sense, for the director not only didn't establish their special bond in any way, cutting their very important scene in Act II and a lot of their exchange of words in Act V out, but completely ignored the fact that in the play they did talk about trees blossming, but it was Maxime who pointed this out to Antoine. Honestly, it would make much more sense if in the movie he was the one giving Antoine flowers; altough I don't trust it would be executed well, so perhaps the best scenario would be to drop it altogether.)

This leaves Antoine and Danton as the unlikely pair. Here I wouldn't necessarily say they are put in different positions (following my train of comparison), because – depending on if you believe the confrontation between Danton and Robespierre to be honest or not – there is enough evidence in the play to mantain both of them want to establish power over nation through Robespierre. Danton is the villain of the play, but he isn't blind, he too wants to use Maximilien as a face of the dictature, as a tool to obtain more "normal" power for himself (normal power here would equal to money, respect, high office; the "abnormal" power is what Robespierre sort-of-dreams-of, an influence over people to direct them into doing what is necessary for the good of the whole of the nation, or better yet, the world). And Antoine wants more or less the same thing, the exception being he doesn't care at all for personal gains. He doesn't necessarily believe in Robespierre's visions of the future, one could even argue he doesn't understand them (this is clearly shown in Thermidor, where he reacts with a headache once Robespierre unfolds his plan in front of him: Stop it, Maxime. I can't keep up with you anymore.); he does, however, see the neccesity of establishing the dictature or some other extraordinary mean to obtain the total power over the state. Both he and Danton are blessed with a far-fetching political vision, the only thing differentiating them from Robespierre is that he's a much more brilliant chess player than any of them, when they can see few moves forward, he's already seen all the possible outcomes of the match. And all of these outcomes are bad, for Maxime is characterised as a pessimist, while Antoine and Danton are, generally speaking, optimistically inclined. Youthful foolishness indeed, except Antoine is not foolish! He's just optimistic. In Danton, the optimism takes a form of boldness and bravado, in Saint-Just it manifests as an unwavering faith in the one he considers to be so much more superior to himself, and also a certain amount of contempt for the ones he considers to be inferior. This is another trait he shares with Danton, and we have to admit, Przybyszewska did a really good job at presenting the same trait in them both in such different ways, that we like one, hate the other.

There is also the matter of how they treat Camille and what they think of him. Here, both are jealous, I think. Jealous of the special place Camille has in Robespierre's heart, scornful of his abilities as a politician and a journalist, disinclined to him as a person. Danton cares for him as far as his utility in being a leverage on Robespierre goes, but I don't think he hoards any warm feelings for him personally, and I don't say it only because he was willing to sacrifice Camille purely out of spite. A much better example to show what I mean is that Danton seems to have a much better functioning, more honest and professional relationship with Delacroix than with Camille, whom he keeps in the dark about absolutely everything from start to finish. I don't know if it was meant to be a symbol or not, but in their very last scene in the jail cell, Camille has to beg Danton not to snuff out the candle, which Danton does, albeit very reluctantly. In turn, Saint-Just talks about Camille in language dripping with contempt and jealousy of purely personal kind, offending him left and right, right to Robespierre's face – not to hurt Maxime, but to "open his eyes", so to speak. In one particularly harsh sentence he compares Camille to a dog, a child and a prostitue all in one breath. He not only doesn't regard him as an opponent, but barely recognizes him as a human being worth respect, in which he is sadly very similar to Danton.

Weirdly enough, they both regard Maximilien as human, which I think is interesting to notice. It would be really easy to write them in such a style that leaves way for them to see Robespierre as something more, something almost extraterrestrial, somebody who posseses abilites greater than normal humans do. And yet:

The first image is from The Last Nights of Ventose, my own translation, and it's directly from Antoine's compassionate speech. I didn't include Robespierre's response, because he just deflected, but deflection does mean he doesn't fully agree, so it's yet another similarity.

One more thing that comes to mind in a comparison like this is that Danton threatens Robespierre with the ultimate power. He doesn't think that Maxime will be able to live with it, with himself, if he ever decides to go this one step futher and become a dictator. Is this is because he wouldn't be able to live with himself, or does he truly underestimate Maxime, or he simply wants to make sure Maxime would not go in this direction precisley because he knows he would then be ustoppable? How very telling then, that in Antoine's mouth the very same thing is not a threat, but a promise! This ultimate power is born out of necessity, and it's a grace for the whole nation, because no other person could bear the weight of this "crown", but Maxime.

The main difference between Saint-Just and Danton, I think, is something which we have to believe, it's not written clearly anywhere, and this is also the thing I briefly touched uppon in the aforementioned post: we have to believe that Antoine has pure intentions, because we sure know Danton does not. These were the embers fueling the suspiscion in Maxime when he couldn't understand why Antoine would possibly push for the dictature so much – is his heart pure? This sounds overly dramatic, perhaps, but I think this dramaticism aligns perfectly with Maxime's overall characterisation. I think all readers believe in his good intentions, and the parallels constructing the characters help immensely in this judgement, for if Danton is rotten to the core, Antoine is as steady and pure as a marble column. Robespierre even calls one a pig, while the other deserves to be named an Apostle of liberty.

There is, however, another similarity between them, too. Both Antoine and Danton are willing to be dishonest in order to achieve their goals. This is this one thing that's hard for Robespierre to swallow, for he – like Camille – values honesty really highly and if he could, he'd always act honestly. Saint-Just, not to mention Danton, has no such scrupules. He sees the greater necessity as something erasing all other circumstances, and for this greater picture he is willing to sacrifice some of his integrity as a human being. With Danton, the situation is even less complex, for I don't believe he would be sacrificing his integrity in any way – this dishonesty lays at his very core and comes natural to him.

The arguments Saint-Just presents, and which differs from Robespierre's point of view, are also different from that of Danton's. Danton's vision of the present is filled with contempt for the people, for the masses who are less brilliant than him and few others are. It is worth noting that Przybyszewska really did think like this, this is something she believed in and while reading Danton's speeches in Act II Scene 3, what we actually hear is her own train of thoughts. The only difference is that she didn't disdain the people they way he did. She thought that being a mass, an unnamed pulp of flesh is not a bad thing (it was perhaps unfortunate, and I am sure thinking she was a genius like Robespierre helped her in maintainign this view). Base material is a nourishment for those who will lead these masses. We – the lesser people – are absolutely necessary for them – the greater ones – so that they can lead us out of the night and into the new epoch of enlightement, and there is nothing humiliating in being this nourishment/tool/base. Danton understood it only partially, for he wasn't ready for the greatest sacrifice of all: to be a genius, one has to get rid of everything personal, all needs and desires must be kept aside, and never again spoken of. Robespierre understood it, and I think Antoine did too. I think the best evidence for it is that he said, that he doesn't consider himself to be Robespierre's equal. Recently I hoped to prove it was a silent declaration of love; now I want to point out it is one because it showed Robespierre that Antoine understood this great sacrifice one has to make in order to be a leader, and in his own way, he has already done this. He has brushed aside personal vain and glory, his amour-propre, he degraded himself in order to magnify Maxime's importance. Danton may say: It's you whom I adore, but it is Antoine who shows it through his actions as well as his words.

#do you think they are constructed as parallels or am i delirious?#sprawa dantona #the danton case #L'Affaire Danton #Stanisława Przybyszewska #stanislawa przybyszewska #Maximilien Robespierre #maksymilian robespierre #antoine saint just #Antoni saint just #georges danton #jerzy danton #frev #french revolution #literary analysis

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pocketramblr · 3 years

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Free ask, rant about anything you want

i just woke up and m y heart is already going weirdly fast so i think i will answer this, write some, then pass out again, then finish packing tonight lets go

ok so im going to rant about uh, why cutting out your moral musical number in you movie musical adaptation is stupid and dumb and why you shouldn't do it

ok so into the woods, a story about stories and families and how those connect. there's a LOT of talking about legacy and tales. The Narrator and the baker's Father is played by the same actor for a reason. the whole baker line is a line of storytellers, and thats important.

In the opening song, there are three households- three stories. Cinderella, Jack the Giant Slayer, and The Baker and His Wife. yes little red is also a character, but shes... not one of the big three. we'll put a pin in her. So, the big three. The Narrator/Mystery Man is the narrator of Jack's story.

The baker's Wife is the narrator of Cinderella

and the Baker is the narrator of his own story

So, Mystery Man shows up and meets Jack after he starts his story going to sell his cow, and mocks him, tells him that he values his cow more than a sack of beans. Later, the Baker and Wife will show up to actually convince him to sell him the cow for just less than a sack of beans (all of the beans, minus one.) The Narrator sets up a point to the Main Character (Jack), and another character in the story he's Narrating picks it up later.

The baker's Wife does the same thing- she shows up right after Cinderella's story properly starts, right after she runs from the first night of the ball, and asks her about the very nice prince. she specifically asks if he's "sensitive, clever, well-mannered, considerate, passionate, charming, as kind as he's handsome"

Later, after the (lowercase n) narrator of Cinderella sets that line up for the Main Character (Cinderella), another character of the story picks it up when cinderella's Prince asks the exact same list of things, though he then goes on his own way.

After Act 1 though, when the stories 'end', the Narrator and narrator get in trouble in the same way for trying to continue narrating them. The Narrator (capital n) gets sacrificed to the Giantess when the other characters claim he's the one she's looking for. He got mistaken for the main character of the story he told, and died for not actually being that mc. the baker's Wife, also a narrator, ends up dying after cinderella's Prince has a tyrst with her- she took the spot of her main character and even alluded "wait, what am i doing, i'm in the wrong story". After the affair, she has a Moral Song, Moments in the Woods, and then gets killed by the Giantess.

BUT

as Narrator and narrator, the baker's Father and Wife can still provide insight onto the story after they die. And they do. The Wife sings in the finale, and the Father has 'no more', which doubles as the Moral Song for both Narrator ghost dad and narrator baker son. Because, of course, the Baker narrates his own story.

BUT

THE MOVIE

COMPLETELY CUT OUT NO MORE

which

1- takes out more connections of the storyteller baker line, leaving the Narrator and Baker's Wife as far less obvious counterparts

2- completely takes out the Baker learning from his father BOTH AS FATHER and as STORYTELLER. theres a reason that at the end he starts telling the baby the same way the Narrator did, its supposed to connect and aaargnn it doesnt now

3- defeats the purpose of a musical?? which is to express emotions through song? instead the baker just sits there sadly for a second after maybe seeing the ghost of his dad (who isn't even a Narrator here!!! whyyyyy YES i know how you could have adapted a narrator into the movie medium. i know its different than stage. its not impossible and it could have been so cool but they didn't even try.) and listens to the background music of 'no more' and then just gets up and decides to go back. WHY DID HE NOT EXPRESS EMOTION THROUGH SONG. this is his BIG DEFINING CHARACTER MOMENT. its IMPORTANT. that means that in a musical its supposed to be MARKED WITH A SONG

anyway the 'adaptation' of into the woods was afraid to actually make changes so instead of properly adapting the story to the medium they just chopped off a couple of chunks that didn't fit into the runtime and then shoved it together. they didn't think about the ramifications of the changes!! you could argue that rapunzel's story was a 'change' but honestly to me it just feels like like just a 'cut out' the ending because they didn't think about how changing rapunzel's ending WOULD CHANGE THE WITCH'S. because she ONLY ACTED LIKE SHE DID because rapunzel DIED. rapunzel, happy, safe, away from the giantess?? she would have had to be forced to face the fact that she was wrong! which she didn't do! because in the play! her whole lamment was "I WAS RIGHT". she thought she was RIGHT to lock rapunzel away bc as soon as she left, she died. she wouldn't have had the truama of desert childbirth (twice.) and gone mad and gotten crushed by a giantess if she had completely remained in the tower! and thats why the witch doesn't come around until after the finale after she. dies(?) it gets to be ambigous with her. BUT NO NOT HERE. just lop of bits of the story it doesnt matter

it doesn't matter if the three of Witch's Mother, Witch, and Rapunzel is supposed to very much be a foil to Baker's Father, Baker, and Baby Son. who cares if storytelling and narrating was important! we're disney, we can do whatever!

anyway "No More" is my absolute favorite song from into the woods and i'll never forgive its absence or MOCKING ME WITH IT in the background music.

thank you for coming to my ted talk, i'll leave you with a parting question. was the un-fridging of rapunzel a total #win for feminism, or did the defanging of the story totally ruin the witch as a #girlboss?

#that last question is. a joke #but the rest of the rant isnt!#oh i never took out the pin in little red riding hood uhh #her narrator is going to be the baker's son when he grows up #hence her not being in the big three but still being a main character #where there are three narrators and also a baby in the narrator family #lrrh is very much the youngest (we can talk later about deaging jack for the movie) and the baby baker is. also the youngest #anyway think about what it means when the witch says 'your family tree will always be a barren one'#when she was the one to remove rapunzel from the narrating family #and thus also prevent her from ever telling a story like they did #she made rapunzel's narrating tree barren- without a story fruit #anyway wooo i feel light headed now thanks #anon #pocket talks to people

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 71 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Fun fact: this rewrite is now the second-longest fic in the Drace Race RPF section of AO3. (Second only to the original story, lol.) So if you’re looking for a lot of content…we’ve got you. ;) Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Violet revealed her estranged relationship with her family to Sutan, and Courtney struggled to live up to Miss Fame’s demands.

This Chapter: Some uncharacteristic vulnerability from Violet, Met Gala meetings and morning television.

***

“Do you want more marshmallows?”

“I always want more marshmallows.”

Katya grinned as she got up from the kitchen table, grabbing Trixie’s mug to top them both up. They were decorating gingerbread men, Katya pulling them from the oven last night. Trixie was doing clothes, drawing in the lines and putting details on them, one of his favorite jobs.

It was a tradition of theirs, spending the Sunday before Christmas in their pajamas, preparing cookies and watching Home Alone, the leftover icing always ending up in the bedroom for some sticky afternoon fun.

***

“Aaaand release...”

“Oh god,” Sutan groaned, rolling onto his back and spreading out like a starfish. “I’m dead.”

When he had jokingly asked if he could join Violet for her yoga session, he hadn’t figured she’d say yes, and he definitely hadn’t expected that it’d be this hard, those last few breaths of extended child’s pose essentially torture where he could feel his bones bend and creak.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Violet grinned, his girlfriend sitting back on her knee, the leg with her cast spread out to the side. “We only did 40 minutes.”

“You’re not even sweating.” Sutan looked at her, Violet’s hair in a high ponytail, the Sunday look of one of his shirts and a sports bra quickly becoming a fave.

“Some of us remember to do more than weights and cardio, Mr. Amrull.”

“I’m texting my trainer right now,” Sutan reached over his head, grabbing his phone that he had left on the floor next to their mats, Violet giggling as she laid down next to him, putting her head on his shoulder.

“There,” Sutan pressed send, his trainer probably falling off of his chair when he read the message, Sutan always attempting to get away with the bare minimum when it came to exercise, but he refused to be humiliated by being unable to reach his toes.

He was just about to put his phone down, when Violet reached up and tapped the screen, his front camera opening up, both of them in frame as they were lying on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture?” Violet smiled, her sarcastic tone never wavering. “To document the moment.”

Sutan looked at the screen. It was so incredibly tempting to say yes, to keep this moment in the private password protected collection that had steadily grown since Thanksgiving, Violet really and truly trying to let him take pictures, but he couldn’t say yes, not when he knew why she was so confident.

“And can I post it?”

“Post it?” Violet raised an eyebrow, sitting up on her elbows. “Why? Isn’t your hair...?”

“A mess?” Sutan didn’t want to smile, but it was impossible not to, Violet knowing him way too well if she had already figured out that he was sometimes embarrassingly vain about his hairstyle, the mess on his head looking like he had been fucking for an hour. “Yes, but I still want to post it.”

“I-” Violet had pulled away completely now, not a single trace of the sweetness left. “No.”

“Violet,” Sutan sat up as well, putting his phone down, “I know you hate social media, but you’re my girlfriend, and I don’t think what I ask for is unreasonable-”

“Sutan. Please” Violet grabbed her mat and rolled it together in an attempt to avoid him. “I said no.”

“And I’m pushing because I don’t understand.” Sutan could feel the annoyance build, the hurt and the rejection. It stung every single time Violet denied him, hurt every time she neglected what they had.

“I’m not saying we have to announce it with a workout selfie,” Sutan hated that they were fighting, but he couldn’t help himself, “but I want to tell the world that we’re together.”

“And I don’t-” Violet looked at him, her brown eyes filled with hurt. “If the world knows, they know, and I don’t want them to know where I am or what I’m doing.”

There it was. The they, the them, the family from Atlanta that was haunting his girlfriend's life like a shadow that had slowly started to creep into his too.

“Violet, I hate to be the one to tell you,” Sutan didn’t touch her, simply putting his hand down on the floor next to hers, telling her that he was there. “But the internet exists. If they have your name, they can find you, no matter what you do to hide.”

“Have you taken a moment to consider that they might not have that?”

Sutan paused, Violet’s words like a bomb.

“... What?”

Did her family not have her name? It was true that Violet Chachki barely got any hits on google, that it was Parson’s assignments and internships that popped up, the Galactica employee directory right at the top, but Sutan had never considered that possibility, had never even toyed with it.

“This wasn’t how I planned on telling you. Actually, I probably wasn’t counting on telling you at all, but I’m not…” Violet was fiddling with the tiniest hole in her yoga mat, her fingers tugging on the foam. “I wasn’t born Violet. Wasn’t even born a Chachki. Hasn’t it ever seemed weird to you that my last name literally means trinket?”

“It does?”

“Mmh,” Violet smiled, the same heavy sadness he had seen in the hospital in her eyes. “I needed to not be… Blair anymore.”

“Blair?”

“Yes,” Violet nodded. “Blair Dardo. It was my birth name. I never liked it, and I changed it the moment I turned 18, left it behind the second I could. That’s why I can’t,” Violet gestured vaguely to Sutan’s phone. “Changing it meant that they can’t, that they can’t find me, and I-”

Sutan didn’t know what to say, but it felt like he had just been given another puzzle piece in the mystery that was his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry.”

Violet’s head snapped to attention, her eyes widening in confusion. “...What?”

“I’m sorry.” Sutan said it again, making sure he put his genuine emotion behind the words. “I should have realized that you weren’t saying no to be difficult, and yet I kept pushing.”

“Sutan-” Violet still looked confused and a little suspicious, like she didn’t really understand what he was doing. “You don’t have to-”

“No but I do.” Sutan smiled. “I get it now, and I’m sorry, but next time you have a deep dark secret, maybe you could just tell me instead of this charade-”

Sutan was cut off as Violet threw herself in his arms, knocking him down on the floor and kissing him like her life depended on it, gratitude rolling off of her in waves.

***

“Raja?”

Alyssa held out the plate of croissants, Raja waving it away since she didn’t want one. The entire senior management team was gathered in the conference room, Fame for some ungodly reason always insisting on a full breakfast spread for their Monday meetings, even though only a fraction of them ever actually ate any of it.

“So,” Fame looked around, a gold fountain pen in her hand, a black moleskin notebook open in front of her. “Any updates?”

The theme of today's meeting was the 2015 Met Gala, Raja barely hiding a groan when Courtney had sent out the meeting agenda.

It wasn’t that she disliked the Met Gala, the first Monday in May a spectacular party, but it was such a hassle getting there, the gala the fashion world's version of the Oscars.

“Yes,” Pearl smiled, turning around in her chair. She was weirdly chipper, her blonde hair collected in a clip, her signature leather jacket exchanged with a cropped black fur. “We have the final confirmation from Jessica Chastain’s team. She’s in.”

“Good,” Fame nodded, making a note in her moleskin, the fact that Fame was actually writing herself more than enough to cement the severity of the situation. Courtney was standing against the wall, Ivy sitting at the table with her computer open, typing away, but when it came to the Met, Fame left nothing up to chance.

“She’s looking forward to working with us, and she says she’s honored-”

“Yada yada yada,” Fame made a hand puppet, and Raja had to hide a smile, Pearl leaning back in her chair with a roll of her eyes, mouthing at everyone else that she’d send a follow up email.

It was Fame who had requested Jessica, in her own roundabout way, her friend casually mentioning to Raja that she had a good smile, which was more than enough for Raja to make Pearl offer her up as Galactica’s celebrity face.

It wasn’t every house who did it, but the big ones always had a celebrity at the gala, wearing their clothes and repping the brand.

“Does anyone know if they’ve moved away from the terrible theme yet?”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Alaska offered up, the promotional material the Met had sent out at the start of the fall in the middle of the table thanks to Ivy’s forthsight. “It’s December, and since we haven’t heard anything, they’re sticking with China's influence on western fashion.”

“Good god, I was really hoping they had come to their senses.” Fame breathed out through her nose, and Raja had to agree with her. Sure, ‘China: Through the Looking Glass’ made sense as an art exhibition, but there was really no way to convert it to fashion without being culturally insensitive at best and offensively appropriative at worst.

Besides, Galactica had never been a brand that sought inspiration from the east in their designs and aesthetics, which made the entire situation quite the predicament.

“I’m sure we can work with it,” Trixie gave a small smile, the stack of papers by his elbow indicating that he had probably already put his senior designers to work coming up with concepts.

“And how,” Fame turned, looking directly at Trixie. “Are we supposed to work with it? Raja’s the only one who could possibly get away with being theme appropriate.”

Usually, Fame and Raja were the ones who walked the carpet together with their celebrity, Fame a nervous wreck for weeks before the gala because of all the strangers, while Raja enjoyed it because of her modeling days, seeing old acquaintances without the stresses of fashion week, a delightful yearly treat.

“I’m Indonesian.” Raja knew Fame didn’t mean anything by it, and she wasn’t that concerned about being politically correct herself, but everyone knew what it could mean for a fashion house to misstep, Dolce and Gabbana somehow walking directly from one scandal and into another one. “Not Chinese.”

“See?” Fame sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It’s a controversial time bomb. Either, we stay on theme, which I refuse since I look terrible in Chinese red, ”

“So we’re going off theme?” Trixie had picked up his papers, sorting through them, and Raja felt a moment of gratitude for their head of design, Trixie of course coming prepared with off-theme suggestions as well.

“Unless they get a grip and change it? Yes. Yes we are.”

“There!” Everyone held their breath as Maxwell pointed at Violet’s screen, an email from Ivy just ticking in, the Met Gala meeting still in full swing.

“Open it, Chachki!” Blu was practically biting her nails, hopping from one foot to the other, her red hair in a braid over her shoulder.

“Alright, alright-“ Violet clicked on the email, Bob standing right behind her, his eyes flying over the screen before he called out.

“It’s Jessica!”

A collective sigh of relief went through the floor, a loud ‘yes’ coming from Kiara who was clapping her hands together, the group breaking up, chatter filling the air.

“Thank god,” Maxwell groaned, putting a hand on Violet’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I knew having you here would be worth it Chachki.”

“Right.” Violet raised an eyebrow, looking up at him, clearly not understanding why no one had thought to simply ask Ivy for updates before, the suggestion just casually slipping from her during morning coffee, the entire department running with it instantly. “But I still don’t-“

“Get it?” They turned to look over at Jovan who was sitting at his own desk, the man one of the few who hadn’t gathered around Violet’s computer.

“Yes.” Violet nodded. “If you needed information all this time, you could have just asked-”

“Like we could have just asked you?” Bob said, cutting her off and Violet opened her mouth, only to close it again. “Exactly.” Bob grinned. “You would have told us to fuck off.”

“I see your point.” Violet tapped her fingers on her desk, a small smile on her lips since everyone knew she would have said those exact words directly to their faces when she had been in Fame’s front office. “But, why is it such a big deal if a celeb is confirmed or not? The gala isn’t until May, that’s 4 months away and it’s three outfits. A whole collection is usually done in that time.”

“A collection doesn’t have to be approved by the celebrity,” Maxwell counted on his fingers, “the celebrity’s stylist, Vogue and Anna Wintour personally on top of Trixie, Raja and Fame. Alexis usually starts producing concepts in October.”

“As soon as they reveal the theme girl!” Alexis yelled over her shoulder, already pulling her sketches from their shelf, the confirmation meaning that she’d be in a meeting with Trixie for the rest of the day, working out the details of the first round of negotiations with the celebrity.

“Huh…” Violet looked around, the puzzled expression still on her face. “And what about-“

“Fame and Raja?”

Violet nodded.

“You’d think Fame would be the difficult one-“ Maxwell smiled.

“But make something gorgeous and custom in ivory and she’s on board,” Jovan grinned, putting the pen he was using behind his ear as he turned around in his chair. “Every year, she pretends like she’ll follow the theme, and then never does.”

“Exactly.” Maxwell nodded. “Fame is demanding, but consistent. Trixie has an entire drawer of Fame-appropriate outfits that we all contribute to whenever we have an idea.”

“That makes a disturbing amount of sense,” Violet looked mildly impressed, and if any of the rumors Maxwell had heard about how she had managed Fame’s front office, that approach wasn’t too far off from how Violet herself had attempted to tame the beast.

“Rule one of surviving at Galactica: Never disappoint Miss Fame. For once, however, Fame isn’t the problem.” Maxwell sighed, taking a seat on the edge of Violet’s desk. “Raja is.”

“Raja?” Violet looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Yes really.” Maxwell crossed his arms. “Every year, she tells us that she’s chill, that she’ll wear whatever goes with the spring collection or the theme-“

“And every single year, she changes her mind at least four times.” Bob chimed in, the drama loving smirks on his lip. “More if you’re lucky.”

“Which is why,” Maxwell nudged Bob’s side with his elbow. “We’ve unanimously decided that you have the honor of dressing Raja for this year's Met Gala.”

“Me?” Violet’s eyes widened. “What? Why?” Violet looked at them, confusion painted on her face. “I’m the most junior member of staff.”

“True, but you’re also sucking her brother's dick,” Maxwell grinned, “so we figured she can’t kill you during the process, unlike the rest of us mere mortals.”

***

It should have been one of the most exciting mornings since Courtney started at Galactica--Miss Fame and Raja were being interviewed on a talk show, and so she got to go to the famous 30 Rockefeller Plaza building, and be on the set of a real television show. Unfortunately, it was such a whirlwind of activity and Miss Fame was in such a demanding mood that she didn’t have a second to enjoy it.

She felt like a chicken with its head cut off, running around in a hectic scramble to meet every request. Today was the last day before their holiday break, and even though Courtney knew that spending her break with Bianca would be incredible, she also knew that she had about a billion things to do before that could even start. Today was supposed to be a half day, but with how packed the schedule was, she’d be lucky to leave by 5.

She entered Miss Fame’s green room, silently handing her the coffee she’d asked for and then leaning on the wall to catch her breath. Miss Fame took a sip and then immediately spit the coffee back out.

“What is this?” she asked, holding the cup out like it was a bag of dog shit.

“It’s your usual-”

“This is not my usual. This is weak, and not hot enough, and-did you just roll your eyes?”

“No, Miss!” Courtney insisted, praying that she was telling the truth. She was tired, having arrived at the office at 6 am to drop off her stuff for Bianca’s, and there was a teeny tiny chance that she may have (accidentally) rolled her eyes. “Would you like a new-”

“Let me tell you something, Courtney. This may be the last day before a vacation, but I expect you to be fully present and accounted for. We have too many important things going on and I will not accept anything less than your absolute very best. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Now. Please go find me some decent coffee before I get a migraine.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“And after you come back, I need you to go to the dry cleaners. I’ve decided to wear my ivory Valentino suit to meet the investors later.”

“Yes, Miss, will do.”

“That’s all,” Miss Fame said, waving her hand, and Courtney took off back down the labyrinthine hallways of 30 Rock to hunt down a coffee that would meet her standards.

***

“Good morning! Welcome back to Coast to Coast. I’m Nina West, and today we are positively blessed to have with us the icons of fashion, Miss Fame and Raja Gemini of Galactica, here to talk to us about dressing to impress in the new year, and their exciting new business ventures. Thank you so much for being here, ladies!”

“Thank you, we’re thrilled to be here,” Fame smiled, the lie easily falling out of her red painted lips.

Raja could see the way her hands were clenched in her lap, her wedding ring turned inward and digging into her palm, and knew that she was at her tensest.

Raja had long ago gotten used to giving live interviews. She had a laid-back attitude and while she always wanted to represent the company in the most flattering light, she tended to relax and let the conversation flow naturally.

Fame, however, had never quite gotten the hang of it in the same way. She was just so brand-conscious, almost to a debilitating degree, written interviews so much more her speed.

She always looked impeccable, very much the ice goddess she was so often called, but Fame had never gotten the same confidence in her speaking skills as Raja, who had been dragged through developing them in her modeling career.

Even though Fame hated being on live TV, they occasionally got an offer they couldn’t turn down, and between the makeup line being released in January and the overhaul of their website and online store, they had a lot to plug.

The whole thing was so stressful Fame had asked Raja four times to check her pits for sweat stains, her papers with facts from the makeup department and pointers from Pearl not leaving her hand until they literally had to go on.

Raja leaned forward, giving Fame’s shoulder a reassuring pat, and added, “This is our favorite show, we never miss it!”

“Aww, thank you!” said Nina, grinning. “Now, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you have an exciting announcement.”

“Yes, and we’re so happy to be able to share the news with your viewers first-”

“An exclusive!” Nina exclaimed, eyes comically wide and mouth open as if this was news to her.

“Yes, exactly. Early this year, we released a limited makeup line, and it’s been doing just wonderfully. So in 2015, we’re going to be rolling out a full line of makeup and skincare, with special edition palettes and colors all throughout the spring.”

“All natural, vegan, cruelty free...I always want the very best for my own skin and I wouldn’t offer our customers anything less,” Fame cut in, and Raja felt a surge of pride at how natural she sounded. All their rehearsing had clearly paid off.

“If you use it, I’ll use it!” Nina said with a chuckle. “You both have the most gorgeous skin I’ve ever seen.”

“We expect the first batch to sell out quickly,” Raja said, “So go straight to our website, Galactica dot com, and sign up to be part of the mailing list to receive alerts on all new product launches and where they’ll show up in stores.”

“I’m doing that, the second we go to commercials,” Nina said. “But first, I heard that there’s more news about your spring line...”

***

Patrick reached for the remote, turning off the TV as Nina West rounded out the segment with Fame and Raja.

He was sitting in his office, wrapping up the last details before the firm could close down for the holiday break.

Fame had done a great job, the nerves he knew she had felt not showing on her beautiful face. Patrick picked up his phone, a smile on his lips as he started to type out a text.

Fame would probably not read it until she left work for the day, but he was proud of her, and he hoped that she was proud of herself too.

***

Fame collapsed onto her dressing room sofa, completely emotionally drained, the crystals she had stuffed in her bra digging against her skin.

Being on camera for live television always took up every drop of energy, and left her with nothing to spare. Unfortunately, she knew that she didn’t have much time to rest, since she was due at the Russian Tea Room to meet her potential investors in less than an hour. The makeup artist they’d hired was standing by for touch-ups, and her ivory Valentino suit hung in its dry cleaning bag on the clothing rack. But first, she knew that her blood sugar was dangerously low, so she needed…

She looked around. Where on earth was Courtney? Fame had never met someone with such a tendency to be underfoot at the worst times and completely MIA when her presence was required. She walked to the doorway, spotting Courtney having a casual chat with a girl in a headset, carefree as anything.

“Courtney!” she snapped, and Courtney looked up, surprised, even though she was literally here for the sole purpose of taking care of Fame’s needs. “Come!”

Fame turned and walked back into her dressing room, irritated, the rapid click of Courtney’s heels as she ran over grating on her nerves.

“Yes, Miss?”

“I need to eat.”

“Oh…” Courtney’s gaze shifted to the table, where a fruit basket sat amongst assorted pastries and other snack food.

“Not that sugary garbage,” Fame explained. “Violet always had- Don’t you have any protein bars?”

“Oh, of course!” Courtney exclaimed, rummaging through her purse.

Fame rolled her eyes, sighing. That girl truly was useless. What Bianca saw in her, Fame would never understand. She took one of the protein bars that Courtney had carefully lined up on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“I think you’d better head back to the office and prepare the conference room for the investor presentation.”

“Oh, but did you need anything el-”

“No, I’m much more concerned with the meeting,” Fame said. “Everything needs to be perfect. These people will be paying attention to every little detail.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Oh, and take this back with you…” Fame handed over a large manila envelope. “It’s some sketches I’ve been working on.”

“Sure.” Courtney began to put the envelope into her bag, and Fame’s eyes widened with alarm.

“Don’t bend them! For god’s sake…”

“Sorry Miss,” Courtney said, biting her lip, holding the envelope at her side. “Is there anything else you need before I-”

“No. That’s all.”

***

Courtney sat in the back of a cab, eyes squeezed tightly shut, using the time in traffic to center herself and go over her massive to do list. She had to make sure that all the presentations for the meeting were set up, work with IT to test it, messenger out the holiday gifts that Miss Fame added at the last minute, make sure the schedule for January was in order, set up her out of office reply…

Plus, the meeting with the investors wouldn’t begin until they were back from the restaurant, so the “half day” was looking more and more like a full day. At this point, settling in at Bianca’s felt like it was a million years away--and traffic crawling at a standstill didn’t help anything.

She pulled out her phone. Maybe she could set up some of the gift deliveries now, while she was stuck in the cab.

When they were finally in sight of the Galactica building, her phone started buzzing. She looked at the screen. Miss Fame. That couldn’t be anything good.

Courtney took a deep breath and answered, stomach tightening.

“Hello?”

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s voice was sharp, sharper than usual. “Do you ever use your head? Or do you just go through life without a shred of critical thinking?”

It was fairly obvious that it was a rhetorical question, so Courtney kept her mouth shut, wondering what had gone wrong, what mess she’d have to clean up now.

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