#but others would just be big mad. the insolence. you will pay for it. >:( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vintage-squid · 3 years

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Threading Our Future

Summary: When up-and-coming designer Virgil Psykhe lands an interview with his favourite fashion label, he has no idea that the attention he's drawn to himself is being taken away from someone very important: the Lady of the Summer Court. Scorned and furious, she sends her son to kill the insolent human.

But when Janus lays eyes on Virgil for the first time, his breath is stolen by the fluttering of his heart and he knows he won't be able to follow through with his mother's orders.

A modern fae re-telling of the Eros and Psyche myth!

Pairing: Virgil/Janus (background Logan/Patton) Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, Remy, Patton, Logan, Remus Rating: T Warnings: mild violence and blood mention, nonsexual nudity, literal sleeping together Word count: 10 363

-----

Virgil Psykhe groaned as he stood from his chair, bracing both hands against the small of his back and pressing until he felt a satisfying series of pops from his hips and up his spine. He should know better by now than to spend hours on end hunched over his projects without taking proper breaks, but he honestly couldn’t help it. Once he got focused, his whole world narrowed to sketch, cut, sew, trim. It was like he was possessed by some crazy spirit who deemed his sarcastic, introverted ass worthy enough to use as a vessel for creation. At least, that’s how he described the near-frenzy he would fall into when his worried fathers questioned after his health.

Was he getting enough sleep? (No.) When was the last time he’d had something to eat? (Did the granola bar he had earlier count?) Would he be willing to drink more water if Papa cut up some citrus to add? (Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea...)

He knew their fretting came from a place of love. As the youngest of three, he was the baby of the family. Both of his older sisters had married a few years ago, now living with their husbands in a couple of larger, nearby cities. They had told their parents the distant moves were for their husband’s jobs, but Virgil knew better. His sisters had never seemed to fit with the unique … energy of their small hometown.

Virgil, however, had yet to even move out, let alone find anyone who would want to spend the rest of their life with him. Thankfully, while his dads did want him to eventually find love, they were mostly just happy to support his dreams of becoming a famous designer.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil glanced around his cluttered studio. Like he would ever actually be a big name in the fashion industry. Yeah, sure, he wanted more than anything to get his designs out there for models of all backgrounds and appearances to showcase the beauty that was in every body type, but he didn’t want his first name attached to that kind of attention. Nope. No thanks. He would much rather people enjoy his work for what it was, not just because it came from him.

Maybe a pseudonym would work? Eh, he still had time to think about it anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to be traveling far from his studio in his dads’ basement any time soon after all. Picking up his phone, Virgil glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. Shit, he was late to meet up with Remy, and he had forgotten to plug his charger in. He groaned as he shoved his phone in his pocket anyway and grabbed his wallet, headphones, and house key. That drama queen was probably going to bitch and moan about being made to wait until Virgil finally agreed to pay for his drink. Not that Virgil really minded, but he had appearances to keep up.

With one last glance around to make sure he had everything, he dashed up the stairs to head out.

-----

Jogging down the street, Virgil turned past the Spirits’ Temple, where the town’s inhabitants left offerings to the spirits of the forest on the first of every month. Tradition claimed that each month was to be dedicated to one of the twelve local spirits who held dominion over different areas of day-to-day life, and that by honouring them, the town would prosper. At the height of the monthly festivals, there would be candles lining the marble steps, fake vines and string lights wrapped around the temple’s stone columns, and a wide spread of wine and honey-sweetened foods to be served. Some of this would be up for grabs on the buffet table, but a selection was always saved to be placed in one of the twelve bronze braziers, which one depended on the month, lining the sides of the temple. Each brazier was set in front of a stone statue carved with a symbol that denoted which spirit it belonged to.

At some point during the evening, everyone in town would take a moment to approach the massive fireplace along the back wall of the temple and toss in a part of their meal with a quietly murmured prayer for luck in some strange-sounding language. To this day, Virgil wasn’t sure what exactly he was saying, but his dad had taught him the correct pronunciation, and he was too superstitious not to follow through. Besides, it wasn’t like he could look too ridiculous doing it when literally everyone else was doing the same thing.

Approaching one of the two coffee shops in town, and the only one he ever frequented, Virgil shook his head to rid himself of thoughts of weird small-town rituals. Inside, it was easy to spot Remy sitting at their usual table with his sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt and a drink already in hand. As he slid into his side of the booth, Virgil was surprised to see his favourite order (hot chocolate with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, and a slice of banana bread) already waiting for him.

“I was gonna apologize for being late, but clearly I don’t have to,” he said, glancing up and narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?”

Remy threw both hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Hey now, why did I have to do something wrong in order to surprise my best friend with his favourite goodies?”

Virgil snorted and crossed his arms, giving his friend a Look.

“Fine, fine!” Remy blew out a sigh and dropped his hands onto the table. “So, maybe I did do something, and maybe you’re gonna be a little mad at me for it, but I promise it’s okay! It’s gonna pay off and you’re totally going to thank me for this one day!”

Virgil dropped his face into his hands with a groan and dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids. “Just spit it out, Remy. What the fuck did you do?”

“Remember that photoshoot we did a couple weeks back with the latest ‘famous-one-day’ designs you sewed up?” Virgil could hear the familiar sounds of Remy typing on his phone. “Well babe, you’ve been making ‘one days’ for too long! So I decided to make ‘one day’ into ‘today’! Ta-dah!”

Bracing himself, Virgil peeked out from the dark safety of his hands, blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision and focus on the phone screen wavering in front of him. Right there, staring back at him from within Remy’s well-manicured clutch, was an email addressed to Penelope with attached photos from their shoot.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t sen-”

“I sent our pics to your favourite fashion label! The one and only Penelope! Known for their breathtaking lines like ‘Faith’ and ‘Fidelity’ that reimagined what it meant to be fashionable! And the best part!” Remy paused for dramatic effect, all but wiggling in his seat. “They emailed me back! They want to do an interview with you next month on the first!”

There was a loud thud as Virgil’s head met the table. If they hadn’t been sitting in public, he definitely would have started screaming too. Instead, all that came out was a muttered, “I fucking hate you. Why would you do this to me? You know I suck at talking to people; they’re gonna hate me and then tell all of the other companies to never work with me and then I’ll definitely never make it.”

A hand settled on top of his head and began to run through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp at the same time. “Don’t be so dramatic, Virge. This is gonna be great for you, I promise. When have I ever led you astray?”

Virgil glared at his friend and opened his mouth, but Remy cut him off.

“Ahp-ahp! Rhetorical question, babes. You're going to thank me for this, I promise.”

When Virgil remained silent, the hand that had been petting his hair slid down to cup his cheek and lift his chin up.

“Hey,” his best friend murmured softly. “If you really, really don’t want to do this, I can email them back and cancel, but I think you should go for it, Virge. This could be your big break!” Remy’s thumb had begun running a soothingly back and forth over his cheek. Virgil didn’t even try to hide the way he relaxed into the comforting gesture, leaning more weight into his friend’s palm. “I’ll even come with you to the interview, okay? I’ll be right there the entire time - gotta make sure they meet your number one model after all,” he added with a playful wink.

Damn Remy and his extroverted influence. Virgil sighed and sat up fully, reluctantly pulling away from the comforting hold and silently relieved when Remy’s hand dropped to link their fingers instead. “I guess as long as you’re there too, then I won’t be the only one making a fool of myself.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remy cheered, ignoring the looks some of the other patrons shot their way at the noise.

Keeping their hands interlocked, Virgil picked up his hot chocolate and took a sip of the sweet ambrosia as he listened to his best friend ramble about his plans for their future.

-----

Somehow, the word got out. Everyone and their cousin’s dog knew about Virgil’s interview and had seen some of the photos that had been leaked. All of them wanted to get a glimpse of not only the representatives of the big fashion label (who may as well have been celebrities to the small community), but also the unobtrusive young man who had brought the attention onto their town.

Virgil clung to Remy’s hand as they approached the café where the interview was going to be taking place. It wasn’t their usual haunt, something Virgil was grateful for; if things went south, he didn’t want that memory attached to one of his favourite places. People were already gathering outside, gossiping amongst themselves or attempting to peer through the front windows. He longed to pull his hood up and hide his face, but Papa had spent all morning helping him make sure his hair and make-up (and everything else) looked interview ready. Not to mention he wasn’t even wearing his favourite hoodie to tuck himself away into.

At Remy’s insistence, he had donned one of the outfits he made last year. The top was made of a flowy material, tighter at the wrists and loose in the arms, wrapping comfortably around his chest to tie in the front above his navel. It was sewn from a high-quality plum linen with a black lace webbing over top. For the bottom, Virgil had pieced together different shades of grey and black fabrics until he had a pair of loose patchwork pants that sat at the hips and left a strip of his stomach visible. He had completed the look with a fresh pair of high-tops that tied the look together despite the discordant styles. With one last look to his best friend for reassurance, Virgil nodded and they waded through the crowd together, on their way to their future.

-----

Singing to herself, Roman stepped through the woods with all the ethereal grace granted to her by her station. As she made her way to the quaint little human town, Roman was accompanied by a pair of mourning doves. While one had alighted on her shoulder, the other fluttered about, and both were cooing in harmony with her otherworldly song.

Her body was draped in a sheer chiffon number, as blood-red as the wine she drank from each year at the celebration of her power and beauty. It was naught much more than a thin layer of fabric over one shoulder and wrapped about her shapely waist, exposing one breast and leaving little work for the imagination on the rest of her body. The finest embroidery coloured the lower hem with twisting rose vines, as if they had sprung from the ground she walked on and reached up for her attention. Her hair was left to tumble free, as wild and untamed as the waves she had been born from so long ago. The Lady of the Summer Court had arrived.

In no time at all, the temple the humans of the village had built for her and her compatriots so long ago came into view. Roman hurried her steps, eager to feast on the delightful offerings she knew would be awaiting her. She hoped one of them left pomegranate; it was her favourite. The plump fruit so easy to tear open to reveal the juicy flesh inside - and the crunchy seeds! Oh!

Grinning, Roman moved around the side of the temple, stepping between the columns to slip inside and make her way towards her ceremonial statue along the right with the other ruling gentry of the Seelie Court. However, when she got close enough to see into the massive dish, indignation began to boil in her blood. Before her, in her brazier, lay half as many offerings as were given to her in the years passed. She looked around, hoping to find something else had been set aside or misplaced, but there was nothing. Seething, she spun on her heel and stalked towards the front of the temple in search of answers.

Outside, two attendants were working to douse the remaining candles to be collected on the morrow after Roman had departed. Well, they were certainly going to be in for a surprise when they returned to find their pitiful offerings still there in the morning. Even with the great distance between them, as a fae, Roman’s sharp ears did not struggle to overhear the conversation between the two humans.

“-believe something like this could happen in our little town,” the one on the right was saying. “Especially from that quiet kid! What’d you say his name was again?”

“He’s the Psykhe’s youngest boy, Virgil.

“No kidding! Sam was telling me the kid showed up for the interview wearing this wild statement piece, like a full fashion runway. I bet his dads sure are proud. I heard half the town was outside Burnsen’s hoping to get a front-row seat. They certainly weren’t here, that’s for sure.”

“Damn shame,” the second human agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a turn out this small for a Spirit’s Night. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

The pair continued their gossip as they finished with the candles and moved onto tidying some of the other nonessential decorations. Roman wasn’t interested in listening any further; she had what she needed. Turning away from the pitiful little temple those putrid humans had so desecrated on her day of honour, the Lady of the Summer Court stormed back into the forest, seething vitriol.

“How dare these humans offer this worthless boy the worship and reverence meant for me! My status is all but set in the very stars and they do nothing more than drag it through the muddy earth!” She screeched, scaring away the doves who had been lingering nearby. “So much for me, the ancient mother of this forest who feeds and fosters the very nature of this place! If nothing lusts, then nothing reproduces! Did they ever consider that before they forced me to associate my status with a mere mortal child?”

As Roman cried out, the very trees parted for her, leaning their trunks away and raising their boughs out of the path of the furious fae. She paid them little heed as she marched down a trail long familiar. “Won’t this boy, whoever he is, be glad to know he has claimed the honours that are due to me by right? Not for much longer, this I swear by my very name! He will regret this beauty to which he has no claim!”

At the climax of her tirade, Roman stopped before the ivy-woven doors of her son’s lofty domain. She would teach this Virgil what happened when you scorned the fae.

-----

Across town, still wearing the outfit and makeup from earlier, though much disheveled, Virgil ran as if his life depended on it. At this point, though, his life may as well have been over, so what was the point in struggling on? Down the street and through the park, he sprinted until he could go no further and crumbled to the ground at the top of the large hill that overlooked the fish ponds. On his hands and knees, he clutched at the damp earth and panted heavily through his heaving sobs.

It was over. Penelope didn’t want to pick him up as a designer. Sure, they liked the selection that Remy had sent them, enough to come talk to him about it, but when the representatives had taken a look through the rest of his portfolio? They hadn’t said they hated it outright, but Virgil was certain his designs were too gothic, too dark, too risky for mainstream fashion. They were going to talk with some of the higher-ups back at the designer studio, but Virgil wasn’t going to be holding his breath. He’d seen their expressions clear as day while they flipped through his work.

Collapsing forward, Virgil buried his face into the crook of his elbow and curled his knees towards his chest, sobbing even harder. He had told Remy after the interview that he needed some space, but now that he was out here alone, he wanted nothing more than a hug from his best friend. Fuck, how was he going to tell his dads about this? It would break their heart!

Virgil shook his head free of the thought; he couldn’t handle any more right now. So he lay on the ground with his cheek pressed against the cool night grass, and cried until he passed out from exhaustion.

-----

In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, Virgil stirred when he felt a pair of arms slide under his body and hoist him up into a strong hold. His head lolled to the side until his temple dropped against a firm body. Then, a kiss was pressed to his forehead, tickling his skin with...a mustache?

“Go back to sleep, little human,” a high, scratchy-sounding voice said. “Jay doesn’t want you to see anything just yet! We don’t want to ruin the surprise, eh?”

Virgil’s face scrunched in confusion, but before he could crack his eyes open to see who was carrying him, a warm breath blew across his face and carried him off to his dreams like a gentle breeze spiraling high into the air.

-----

When Virgil woke for the second time, it was with far more peace and tranquility than he usually felt when greeting the day. His bed was extra soft and luxurious beneath the swell of his hip and he was comfortably warm, though he couldn’t feel the usual weight of his blanket. Stretching his arms far above his head, Virgil suddenly snapped his eyes open when his fingertips were greeted not with the hard wall behind his headboard, but with a damp, spongy texture instead.

Scrambled to his feet, he looked around to discover he was at the edge of a clearing, carpeted with a thick moss that his feet sank slightly into and surrounded by trees who towered so far above him their canopies seemed lost secrets of the sky. To one side a stream babbled a song, its waters bright as day and clear as glass. Breathless, he turned a slow circle, feasting on the seemingly supernatural wonders with starving eyes. The sight that greeted Virgil as he turned full around, however, could have subsisted him for a lifetime.

At the very heart of the grove, sitting in its focal point, rose what he could only describe as a palace. The trees which made up its supporting columns were an ivory birch, though much wider than any Virgil had ever seen, with leaves seemingly grown from pure gold that glittered in the dappled sunlight they let through. Framed by these otherworldly goliaths, ivy vines had been woven together to form a grand door which opened of its own accord and bid Virgil to enter. Under a spell spun from his own awe and curiosity (and probably some of whatever magic this place had to be made of), Virgil strode forward.

Inside, the palace seemed to emulate its own light, reflecting off the vaulted ceiling and highlighting the polished stone walls decorated with endless silver reliefs of animals real and imagined. Virgil trailed his fingertips along the slithering spine of a snake as he passed, admiring the lifelike detail in each scale, but before he could venture much further, a voice spoke.

“Welcome.”

Virgil jumped, spinning around to search for the source of the voice, but no one was there. When they spoke again, it sounded like they were right over his shoulder.

“You have been invited into the home of the fae as a guest of honour, Virgil.” The man in question felt a strange twinge in his chest hearing his name from the voice. “If you follow the doors to your left, you will find a dining hall in which you may eat your fill; the foods are from your home world and you need not fear consuming them. To your right lay the bathing and bed chambers. Please, make yourself at home. You are safe here, my darling.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Virgil called out into the empty room.

There was a small pause before the voice replied. “You may call me Janus for the time being. It matters not how I know your name, but you need not worry that I will give it to anyone else.”

“Not creepy at all,” Virgil murmured before raising his voice once more. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“Ahh, my darling, take care with your curiosity before it gets you into trouble. Fret not, I am here with you, though you cannot see me. I know it is hard, but you must trust in me, my love. I shall visit you this evening after the light of day has given way to the dark of night. So long as you promise not to look upon my face and let me remain shrouded in shadows, then I shall answer more of your questions then.”

“What? I’m supposed to trust you, but I’m not allowed to look at your face? What the fuck, dude?”

“I understand this may be a cause for alarm, but you must understand my perspective, dear one. If you were to gaze upon me uninhibited, I fear you would not fall in love with me in a manner which would be best for us both. Promise to me, Virgil.”

“Okay, okay, I promise. Why is this so important to you anyway?”

“Thank you. I wish to form a genuine bond with you, beloved, and I cannot do that if you are influenced by my appearance. That is not how I desire to court my future husband.”

“Husband? What do you mean future husband!?”

Virgil stood in place, waiting for any further response from the invisible person, but it seemed his host had vanished into the very air he spoke from. Blowing out a heavy sigh, Virgil looked from left to right and decided the faint grumbling in his abdomen was something he could ignore for the time being; he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach anything right now anyway. So, he made his way towards the baths, hoping a splash of cool water could wake him from this crazy dream.

Unfortunately, even after dunking his head under the cool water, Virgil was still stuck in the extravagant palace with an invisible host. He braced his hands on the sides of the stone bowl carved from the wall, staring blankly at the trickling waterfall that fed into the dish he had rinsed in. How the fuck did he get into this mess? The voice had mentioned something about this place belonging to the fae? What the fuck? There’s no way any of this could be real. Well, that Janus had said he would answer Virgil’s questions tonight, so there seemed little more he could do than wait.

The bedroom he had been given was grand, far larger than even his entire basement suite back home, and all of its drapings were more luxurious than Virgil had ever seen. He ran his fingers down the curtains that hung from the bedposts, marvelling at the quality and the depth of the colour. What he wouldn’t give to be able to create with fabrics of this pedigree. He fiddled with the tie of his shirt around his middle and settled onto one of the plush armchairs by the window. Now, to wait.

-----

Hours later, Virgil was startled awake from a light doze by the sound of footsteps approaching his door. He scrambled to his feet, keeping one hand braced on a bedpost to orient himself as he squinted through the darkness. It was so dark he couldn’t even make out the vague outlines of the furniture around the room.

The door opened.

Virgil tensed, gripping the bedpost tighter and raising his other arm in front of him defensively. From what he could see, backlit from the hall, the figure entering the room was about his height, maybe a little taller. It was difficult to make out in the dark, but the shadow he cast onto the floor seemed to be larger than his body mass would produce. The door closed, leaving the two of them alone in the dark.

“Janus?” Virgil asked nervously, hoping there wasn’t anyone else in the palace who would be coming into his room this late at night.

“Breathe, Virgil, it is only me.”

It was as if a spell of calm soothed over him, easing the tension from around his neck and within his chest. Virgil took a deep, relieving breath. Janus hadn’t come any further into the room, seemingly content to linger by the door.

“Um… hi?” Virgil winced at how awkward he sounded, but continued on regardless. “You said you would answer more of my questions, right?”

“That is correct, beloved. I will tell you as much as I am able to at this time.” There was the sound of shuffling in the dark. “May I join you on the bed? I think we will both be much more comfortable being seated for this conversation.”

Virgil bit his lip, looking between the bed and Janus despite not being able to see either. Eventually, he nodded, and then blushed when he realized what he’d done.

“Yeah… yeah, you can come sit over here, I guess.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

When the pair had gotten settled, Janus was seated at the foot of the bed, leaning up against the bedpost and seemingly unbothered by the strange situation. Virgil, on the other hand, had his back pressed against the headboard with his knees hugged to his chest. His feet were buried in the blankets and he was absently scrunching the soft material under his toes in a comforting, rhythmic motion. It was Janus who broke the silence first.

“What would you ask of me first, dearest?”

Virgil blew out a sigh. “Why did you bring me here? What are you going to do with me? Am I ever going to be allowed to go home? Will you-”

"Sh sh sh,” Janus crooned, “One at a time, beloved, all will be answered. In short, I do not know when you will be able to return to your home, or if you ever will, but it is for your own good!” Janus hurriedly added before Virgil could panic. “You see, there is someone very powerful who is very angry with you. Intentionally or not, you have caused her a great disrespect, and she will not rest until her dues have been met.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Janus sighed. “Because she is my mother, and she sent me to kill you.”

“What!?” Virgil screeched, throwing himself off the bed and slamming against the nearby wall. His nails scrabbled at the stone, desperate to clutch, claw, escape. No, no, no, he didn’t want to die! He snapped his head back and forth, searching for any sort of way out, but he was blinded by shadows and fear. A sharp cry escaped him when a hand suddenly wrapped around one of his own and he whimpered as it squeezed, expecting pain. Instead, a gentle crooning cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Breathe, Virgil, you are not in danger. You must calm down and listen.”

Janus’ voice was surprisingly tender for how powerfully it could be heard through Virgil’s panic. He was able to focus on it like a tether to pull himself into a more relaxed state of mind. At some point, he had begun to time his breathing with Janus’ as well, steady and even to a count known only to the fae holding him. When Virgil had relaxed enough to come back to himself, he tensed all over again, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“How can you say I’m safe, when you’re gonna kill me?”

“Because I have no intentions of killing you,” Janus replied, now cradling both of Virgil’s hands to his chest. Even this close, the darkness was so impenetrably thick that Virgil had no hope of glimpsing his face. He kept his eyes averted regardless. “I brought you here to remove you from my mother’s gaze and conceal you from her misplaced wrath.”

Virgil was silent, processing, as Janus gently tugged on his hands and guided him back onto the bed. There, the fae leaned against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him and carefully pulled Virgil to recline on his chest. Virgil resisted for only a moment before complying. Everything else about this was already way out of his depth to manage, he may as well allow himself to be comfortable wherever he could. Janus was either going to kill him or leave him alive, and there likely wasn’t anything Virgil could do to sway that decision at this point. So, Virgil settled himself against Janus’ chest with his body laying between Janus’ legs and stretching out until their legs tangled together. He was grateful now for the dark that hid a probably searing blush as his cheek pressed flush against the fae’s warm skin; Janus wasn’t wearing a shirt and his nude torso was warm to cuddle against.

“Now,” Janus murmured, shifting Virgil’s focus from his embarrassment to the situation at hand. His fingers ran over Virgil’s scalp and through his hair, carefully brushing out any tangles and soothing in the same motion. “If you will let me continue, I was going to say my mother had ordered for you to be killed, however, I do not agree with her decision. She is acting rashly over a slight you did not directly commit.”

“What did I even do to piss her off so bad?” Virgil murmured from where his face was tucked against Janus’ collar, resting more of his weight closer with each breath.

“I do not know the exact details, only that you were the cause for drawing her worshippers away from the temple on her day of adulation. The fae do not take kindly to being stolen from, especially not my mother.”

“The interview,” Virgil breathed in horror. Pushing himself upright, he clutched at Janus’ arm. “I swear, I didn’t mean for everyone to skip out on the Spirit’s Festival! If it had been up to me, none of them would have even been at the cafe! I didn’t want them there, you have to believe me!”

“Calm yourself, beloved. I believe that you did not intentionally act to anger her. However, you must understand that even a perceived slight is considered very real and serious to the fae. That is why you must remain here under my protection, until my mother’s ire cools or I can convince her to redirect her anger.”

As Janus fell silent, Virgil curled in again and pondered what he had been told, trying to remember anything he could about the fae. It wasn’t like there was one consistent guidebook he could follow, but some of the stories the older people used to tell his grade school classes at the library were starting to make a little more sense now. He had been told the forest couldn’t lie, so maybe that meant the fae were bound by the truth? A stretch, sure, but weren’t all myths rooted somehow in reality? They were also regularly told that the spirits of the forest loved beauty, especially in the form of attractive people, and could bestow gifts on those they enjoyed looking upon. Virgil had always felt so disheartened hearing that. He wasn’t anything special, just a plain-looking boy, so the forest would never favour him.

Why then had Janus?

“So,” Virgil broke into the quiet, “you supposedly brought me here to protect me from your mother, but that doesn’t explain why you called me your future husband earlier.”

Janus hummed. “When I set out to observe the human who had offended my mother, I was prepared to be faced with a disgusting example of your kind. What I found instead was the most beautiful face I had ever laid eyes on.” Virgil gasped when the hand that had been in his hair slipped down to cup his cheek and tilt his chin up. He felt a pair of lips brush so lightly against his forehead that he thought he imagined it. “You were sobbing so hard for a deeply rooted pain. I found myself desiring nothing more than to stop your tears and see how much your already breathtaking countenance would shine when lit by a smile.”

“I - you -”

Virgil was sure that he had been kissed before, because now he felt those lips curl into a smile.

“Is it so hard to believe you are so attractive?”

“Well, yeah,” Virgil huffed, his eyes closed as he leaned into Janus’ palm. “It’s not like I heard it all that often.”

“Mmm, I shall have to change that, then,” Janus whispered, resting his cheek on Virgil’s head, cradling him close once more. “Do you have any more questions, beloved? If not, it is time for you to rest, you’ve had a long day.”

The gentle petting and warm embrace were taking their toll on Virgil’s exhausted mind. He let himself rest heavily on Janus, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm around the fae’s chest. “Jus’ one,” he murmured, voice already dipping into that sleepy slur. “Wanna make sure m’dads know ‘m safe…”

“I’ll see what I can do, my love. Rest now, Virgil.”

Like a spell had been cast over him, Virgil drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

-----

When Virgil had awoken, he was alone in the massive bed. He was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment in his chest, having hoped Janus would stay despite the fae not wanting to show his face. Sighing, he slid out of bed and got himself ready for the day, slipping into some comfortable clothes he found in a set of drawers. When he came down for breakfast, his host’s invisible voice greeted him and informed him that his dads had been told of the situation and were relieved Virgil was alive and relatively safe.

The next few days played out much the same. Virgil was left to his own devices during the day, waited on by some sort of invisible staff as he explored the palace. He never saw another soul, but whenever he needed something, he learned to simply call out for it and it would be delivered to him by magic.

Each night, Janus would arrive in his bedroom once the sun had disappeared. He never asked for more than Virgil was willing to give, but Virgil found himself cuddled close every night without fail. They would speak for hours - about Virgil’s dreams, his dads, and Remy - nothing was too simple for Janus to inquire about. The fae was fascinated by every aspect of human life, and Virgil enjoyed discovering a sense of romantic joy over the little things he had experienced. There was something about Janus that soothed away the ever-present worries that were always yelling inside Virgil’s head.

There was one worry that couldn’t be silenced, however. No matter how much Virgil was coming to trust his protector, he could not ignore the fact that he had no idea what Janus even looked like. It was eating away at him not to know, and the longer he sat alone, the Janus in his head looked more and more like a monster waiting to prey upon him. This couldn’t go on. He had to know.

-----

During the day before he was going to enact his plan, Virgil spent his time in the massive library he had discovered on the second day, scanning the shelves and making a show of selecting a couple books. He made himself comfortable in one of the oversized cushions piled near the floor-to-ceiling window and pretended to read. Between absently scanning the pages, Virgil looked up and glanced around the room, as if his mind were wandering with the tale he was apparently focused on. In reality, he was scouring the room for ideas.

Countless candles were lit around the library, their wax melting at different stages, some newly pooling while others formed thick layers around the base of the candelabras. They were lit now, but there was no way for him to have an already burning flame in the bedroom when Janus arrived for the night. He would have to find some way to light one on his own. Maybe he could just -

“Excuse me?” He called into the air. “Could I please have more candles, and some matches for them? I want to go read in my room, but, um, the smell is really nice in here.”

Like always, the items he requested popped into existence on a low table nearby: three candles and a pair of matches. Huh, he hadn’t actually thought that was going to work.

“Thank you!”

Hugging both books to his chest, Virgil collected his new tools and jogged up to his room. There, he placed the candles onto the small table between the armchairs and lit them with a match. The second match, he carefully tucked inside the front knot of his shirt, pressing against his breast. Now prepared, he settled in to actually focus on the novel he had picked up. There was nothing but time to kill.

-----

By the time Janus arrived, Virgil had already blown out the candles and crawled into bed. He cuddled in as soon as Janus had laid down, laying his head on the fae’s chest and trying to keep his breathing steady as they fell into their usually nighttime conversation. Janus’ claws delicately traced the bumps of his spine the entire time they spoke.

Once Virgil was sure Janus had fallen asleep, he began the slow process of extracting himself from the fae’s embrace. Janus really was a cuddler, and loved to hold Virgil close while they slept, but thankfully he was also quite a deep sleeper. Virgil was able to carefully pull himself away and tuck a pillow into Janus’ arms. The fae squished it to his chest and curled onto his side, none the wiser.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Virgil went to work. He grabbed one of the candles and fished the match out from under his shirt, striking it against the table to light it. One hand held onto the base of the candle, while the other carefully cupped around the flame, protecting it as Virgil walked around to the other side of the bed where Janus lay. With a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled his hand away and gasped at the sight in front of him.

Janus never wore a shirt, which meant Virgil’s hands had felt the broad expanse of his naked back every night they had slept together. That didn’t explain why there were now a pair of gorgeous, tawny wings sprouting from between Janus’ shoulder blades. The feathers looked softer than anything Virgil could imagine and shined like spun gold in the candlelight. Virgil ached to caress the speckled feathers, to scrunch his fingers in the fluffy down near the wings’ base, but as he reached out, Janus rolled over and Virgil’s breath was punched from his lungs. The face of his protector was carved by the gods. Janus’ skin was a rich, dark brown, reflecting the candle light to accent his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Virgil could only imagine what colour his eyes could be behind his lids, framed by perfectly shaped brows and a shapely nose. Oh! Those lips! So plump and full! What would they feel like pressed against his own?

Enraptured, Virgil tried to get a better look, but as he leaned forward, some of the melted wax from the candle spilled over and landed on Janus’ cheek. The fae yelped, startling awake and clutching at his face as he threw himself upright. Virgil jumped back in shock, falling on his ass while somehow keeping the candle lit. The clatter drew Janus’ attention and his head snapped to the side to look at Virgil, who saw the moment Janus’ eyes widened with understanding and heartbreaking betrayal.

“You promised!” Janus hissed. “You promised me you wouldn’t look! Does your word mean so little to you!?”

“N-No - I, I just, I wanted-”

“What!? What was so important that you had to break your promise?”

“I wanted to, to make sure you weren’t some sort of … monster … who had kidnapped me to… to eat me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. Why did he have to give in to his anxieties so easily? The next moment, his heart crumpled with Janus’ expression.

“Get out.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said. Get. Out.” Janus growled, spreading his wings high above his head as he leaned over the edge of the bed. “Get out of my sight, and out of my home! If you cannot hold to one simple promise, then I will not protect you! You can deal with my mother’s wrath on your own!”

About to protest, Virgil cried out in fear as Janus slashed out him, narrowly missing his face with those lethal claws. He didn’t waste any more time, dropping the candle and scrambling to his feet to run out of the bedroom. The empty halls echoed with his laboured breathing and the slap of his bare feet against the tiled floor as he sprinted through the palace and out the ivy-woven doors. The moment he was out, the doors slammed shut behind him.

Panting heavily, Virgil bent over with his hands on his knees, his entire body trembling from fear and exertion. He dropped to the ground and clutched his head in both hands, curling smaller and crying as silently as he could muster. It was a long time before his breathing evened out and he was able to drag himself back to his feet.

A glance around the clearing revealed what he had known upon his first arrival: he had no idea where in the forest he was, or which way led back home. So, he did the only thing he could and picked a direction to start walking. Through the night he stumbled over roots and around tangled shrubs, not stopping until he finally tripped over his own exhausted feet and fell into the shockingly cold waters of a stream. He spluttered and gasped, miserably dragging himself back up the bank. The sun was rising overhead, the forest waking up around him; he didn’t have the time to huddle here in a ball feeling sorry for himself.

-----

As the day progressed, Virgil noticed the trees beginning to thin and the gaps between the trunks growing wider. Suddenly, the canopy overhead parted to reveal a mountain, vast and tall, that should have been visible long before this moment. Placed at irregular intervals up the cliffside were six palaces woven of different plants woven together with even more grandeur than Janus’ home. Over the edge of the mountain, the tips and edges of presumably more palaces - these ones sculpted and shaped from various stones - were visible against the pale sky.

Virgil squinted, trying to get a better look at the strangely familiar shapes carved into the rock face near each palace. He gasped. The symbols matched those carved into the statues above the bronze dishes in the Spirit’s Temple, more specifically, the dishes meant for the spirits honoured in the spring and summer. That would mean - there! On the left! Beneath a palace of myrtle trees and rose vines, was the symbol belonging to the seventh spirit. That had to be the home of Janus’ mother, the spirit - or fae, rather - who was supposed to have been honoured at the start of this month.

Biting his lip, Virgil looked back the way he came then up at the palace once more. If what Janus said was true, and he wasn’t going to be offering protection anymore, then Virgil would have to face her on his own. It was either that, or cowering away until she tracked him down and killed him. Also not a desirable option, but Virgil would rather have some form of control over the end of his life. Beginning to climb, he just wished he would have been able to say goodbye to his dads first.

While there were worn deer trails to follow, the journey was not an easy one. Virgil had to cling to the rocks, heaving himself ever upwards, trying not to slice his bare feet or palms on the uneven shale. The summer sun climbed alongside him, growing hotter and hotter, sapping his energy and strength. Still, he pushed on until he stood before the lush gates shaking with exhaustion and dizzy from the heat.

Before he could gather his wits, the thorny vines that sealed the palace from the outside world began to withdraw. Where they parted, massive sanguine roses bloomed, as if to cushion a passerby from the sharp thorns. From within the depths of the palace strode out a figure so radiant and commanding, Virgil immediately felt subservient to her will. He quickly looked away, cheeks hot, as both of her breasts were exposed and only a lightweight wrap covered her lower body. His body recoiled when her piercing laugh broke the silence.

“Finally! The wretched beast comes crawling to its master, the Lady of the Summer Court. Had enough of playing at royalty, have you? Look at me when I’m talking to you, Virgil!”

Virgil immediately snapped his head back towards her, paling when his eyes met with her seething ire, but unable to drop his gaze any lower. He gripped the sides of his pants with white knuckles. “I - I’m so, so sorry! I n-never meant-”

“Look at this!” The fae cut in, causing Virgil to flinch again. “The pathetic mortal trying to inspire pity from me with your anxiety and melancholy! I will not be made a fool and relegated to some cheap handmaiden!”

With a shriek of rage, the Lady of Summer darted forward faster than Virgil’s eyes could track. The next moment, he was sprawled on the ground, ears ringing. He brought a shaky hand up to his stinging cheek and felt his stomach drop when his fingertips came away bloody. Rolling onto his back, he choked. The Lady was looming over him, one of her hands dripping with his blood as she pinned him down with a foot on his chest.

“It seems only fair to me, mortal, that I give you some chance to win back my good graces. Therefore, you shall complete a task for me, or else I will take your life as compensation for your disrespect.” The Lady of Summer announced with a wave of her hand. Virgil looked to the side, wincing as the cuts in his cheek dug into the gravel, and watched in surprise as a pile of mixed grains appeared nearby.

“You will sort this mass and disarray of seeds - wheat, barley, millet, poppy, chickpea, and lentil - into individual piles. I will know if a single grain lays with the wrong group. You have until this evening.” With that, the Lady of Summer kicked off his ribs and spun her skirts, vanishing into thin air with a flourish and leaving only the heady scent of roses as a sign of her presence.

Virgil lay on the ground in silence for a long time after she disappeared, barely daring to breathe. When he was finally able to bring himself to move, he slowly rolled onto his hands and knees, hissing at the pain in his ribs - definitely bruised. Crawling over to the pile of seeds, he reached a hand out but hesitated before he could touch the tiny grains. How the fuck was he supposed to sort these? He could hardly begin to tell them apart! Sitting back on his ass, Virgil dropped his face into his hands and burst into tears.

Then, he heard a high-pitched giggle.

Flitting to-and-fro above him were four - five - eight, no - seven? Seven little pixies were spinning, twirling, dancing through the air above him. Their bright, insect-like wings caught the sunlight and sent out flashes of colour like a rainbow in motion. One-by-one they drifted to the ground, settling in a half circle in front of Virgil and his miserable collection of seeds. They stood only several inches tall and were dressed in leaves and petals. A pair stepped forward in front of the rest; they were holding hands.

“Hello, hello!” The one on the right chirped, waving up with his free hand. He had gorgeous light blue butterfly wings that fluttered when he spoke. “We heard you crying and came to see, to see! What happened here, here?”

Virgil sniffled, wiping away his tears and snot on his sleeve. “Well, um,” he hiccupped and took a deep breath. “It’s the Lady of the Summer Court. She wants me to sort all of these seeds by type before tonight, but I have no idea how I’m going to do that so she’s definitely going to kill me!” He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob, tears running down his face.

“Easy now,” a new voice murmured as two little hands pressed against his knee. Virgil blinked his eyes open to see the second pixie - this one with veiny wings like a beetle’s - rubbing his leg soothingly. “You need to take slow, deep breaths to calm yourself.”

Virgil nodded and attempted to follow suit, counting to four on each inhale and exhale until the tears had slowed and he was able to relax somewhat to continue the conversation. “Th-thank you, um, what are your names?”

“You can call me Pat, Pat!” The first pixie announced twirling himself up into the air and drifting back down again.

“Ah, so you are quite new around here,” the second pixie mused, keeping his hands on Virgil’s leg. “You may call me Lo. Names have great power to the fae and it is imperative that you do not give yours away lightly, else someone may have complete control over your will.”

“But the Lady of the Summer Court already knows my name, and so did Jan- her son.”

“At any point did you give it to them, though?”

Virgil thought back over the last few weeks. “No… no, they both just, sorta, knew it somehow. Oh, uh, I guess you can call me Vee, then?”

Lo nodded. “Then it is likely they only heard your name somewhere, but they do not own it. Do you understand? They can exert some measure of power over you, but they cannot remove your free will entirely. Now then. Why is it the Lady wants you dead?” The pixie offered a small smile, nodding his head as Virgil explained how he got into this situation, that he knew Janus (though he referred to him as Jay), and why he wasn’t with the other fae anymore. When he finished, it was Pat who puffed up angrily.

“The Lady has gone too far, too far! You didn’t mean to make those people leave, leave! And it sounds like you didn’t actually make a binding promise, so Jay is acting a bit silly, bit silly. So, we’re gonna help you sort these seeds, and get everything cleared up, up!”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Pat, you stay here with the others to aid Vee. I am going to go have a word with our feathered friend.” With that, Lo leaned in, kissed Pat’s cheek, and flew off down the mountainside.

Virgil watched the glint of Lo’s wings until he was out of sight, then turned back to the remaining pixies to watch as their quick, tiny hands got to work on the grains. “So… how do you know Jay?

Pat grinned widely up at him. “Jay is one of the Princes of Spring, Spring!” He works with love magic, and helped Lo and I get together decades ago in exchange for our help weaving that pretty gate in front of his palace, his palace!”

While they continued to converse, the pixies worked away at the seeds to form six unique piles, sorted from darkest to lightest. Before long, the entire jumbled mass had been reorganized without a single seed out of place. Once their job was complete, the five other pixies twittered their goodbyes and flew off up the mountain. Only Pat remained, sitting on his knee and chattering away as the sun set. Virgil shivered as a chill breeze licked at his exposed skin.

A sudden snap rent the night air, spooking Virgil, who lurched forward to cradle Pat in his hands protectively. Looking over his shoulder, he felt like vomiting when he saw the Lady of Summer standing over the grain piles with her arms crossed. He internally thanked any of the spirits who may be on his side that her chest was covered this time.

“This is not your work,” she hissed. “These were not organized by your hand, but by his!” She pointed an accusing finger at Pat, who had been peeking around Virgil’s arm but quickly hid back against his chest at the attention. “How dare you attempt to deceive me, you cretin!”

With a wordless shriek, the Lady lashed out with her vicious claws, aiming for the unmarked side of Virgil’s face. He scrambled back on his hands and heels, his ass dragging on the ground while Pat clung to the front of his shirt. Before she could take a second swipe, however, the dust and grit kicked up around them, obscuring their vision.

With his eyes covered, Virgil could only hear the flapping of large wings that cut off before there was the thud of a body dropping in front of him. Opening his eyes, he gasped. There, with his back to Virgil, stood Janus, with his great wings spread wide and his claws flexed at his sides. Lo, who had been holding onto the fae’s shoulder, now zipped down to the pair on the ground, holding Pat close and ensuring he was unharmed while the pixies huddled together on Virgil’s lap.

“You will not lay another hand on him,” Janus hissed, standing over Virgil protectively. Virgil felt Pat grip his thumb, but he couldn’t look away from the pair above them.

“What are you doing? Get out of the way, my son.”

“No. You wanted your revenge on him, and you got it. Look at him; he’s terrified, injured, and exhausted. The original disrespect against you was not even intentionally caused by him; it was the doing of numerous others. I do not fault you for your affront, but you are carrying on like a tantruming toddler!”

The Lady of Summer took a step back and clutched at her bosom. “You dare to speak to me like that?”

“I do, and so does the rest of the Seelie Court.” Virgil watched as Janus rolled his shoulders back and stood straighter. The Prince of Spring then reached into a bag tied at his hip and pulled out some sort of wooden charm dangling from a hemp rope. At the sight of it the Lady of Summer gasped and covered her mouth. “I have spoken before the Queen and her retinue, and she has decreed you will leave this mortal alone. In exchange, he will return to his town and gather a proper celebration for you by the end of this month.”

Virgil held his breath, not daring to twitch a muscle as he awaited his fate. The Lady of Summer let nothing show in her expression, but the hard lines of her face had softened attractively as Janus spoke. She shifted, looking over Janus shoulder and directly at Virgil. “You. You will do as this deal demands?”

Nodding rapidly, Virgil held up his hand in oath. “I will, I promise. I’ll go back home and speak with the curator of the Spirit’s Temple. We’ll host another festival and you’ll get the offerings you were supposed to be given at the start of the month.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the Lady of the Summer Court beamed a smile and grasped her hands over her heart. “Well then! That wasn’t so hard, was it! My dear, smart son, finding a way to set things right. I’m so proud of you, my little songbird.” Looking at her son, she cooed and cupped Janus’ cheek to tilt him up to kiss his forehead, smiling at his grumbling. “I won’t linger much longer, don’t you worry. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of my future son-in-law after all! I’ll see you soon, Virgil, dear,” she called, a cool edge to her voice for a moment before she smiled brightly once more and waggled her fingers. With a dramatic wave of her hands, the Lady of Summer vanished once more.

A quiet settled over the remaining quartet, broken by a tinny clearing of a throat. Lo stood in Virgil’s lap, tugging Pat up next to him. “I believe it is time for us to depart as well. I am relieved we were able to arrive in time to prevent any harm coming to you, Vee.” The pixie looked from Janus to Virgil and smiled. “Let us know when you are in the woods, we would enjoy visiting under more ideal circumstances. Farewell, for now.”

“Goodbye, Vee, Vee!”

In a flash, the pair of pixies flew off into the night, their hands held tight together. They flew loops and circles over the others before darting off in the direction the other pixies had traveled hours ago.

On the ground, Janus helped Virgil to his feet. He cooed in sympathy, tenderly touching the tips of his fingers beneath the angry red cuts on Virgil’s cheek. “I am so sorry for what she has done to you, darling. And I am even more sorry that my own actions drove you from the safety of my side. I was meant to protect you from unearned rage, but instead I subjected you to further punishment and drove you towards your would-be killer. If I hadn’t gotten here in time-” Janus exhaled heavily, his wings sagging behind him. “I am so sorry, Virgil.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because none of this has been okay, but, I guess I can understand where you were coming from. If I were as attractive as you, I’d also be worried about people taking advantage of me.” Virgil blushed and dragged his big toe through the dirt. “So, yeah, I forgive you, or whatever.” He looked up with a fire in his eyes and jabbed his finger into the center of Janus’ chest. “But don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

Janus hands cupped around his own, cradling it close. “I swear, to the end of my days, I will treat you with the dignity and respect you deserve, my dearest.”

Despite the tenderness of the gesture, Virgil was unmoved. “I mean it, Janus. If you want us to work out, then I can’t be afraid that you’re going to banish me from your home every time you get upset. It’s not a relationship if you’re going to treat me like I’m disposable. I’m worth more than that. If you want more reassurance, or something, on my promises, then we can work something out, but what you put me through was terrifying, and I can’t go through it again. I won’t.”

Janus sighed, holding Virgil’s hands up to his lips and resting there a moment before slowly gathering Virgil into his arms. His embrace was loose enough to break, if Virgil wanted. “I understand, darling, and I will never be able to apologize enough for what I have done. However, it is not my words you want, but my actions, and I will do whatever you desire of me in order to make it up to you.” He cupped Virgil’s uninjured cheek. “I want us to work, too.”

There was a long pause as Virgil searched Janus’ golden eyes for any signs of deception. When he found only an earnest honesty, Virgil allowed himself to be held closer. He wasn’t sure which of them moved next, but they came together as one, lips pressing softly at first before quickly gaining heat. Then he was spun and dipped down, laughing hard as he clung to Janus’ shoulders, the fae’s wings held aloft to keep them balanced.

Maybe ‘future husband’ didn’t sound so bad after all.

#anxceit #healthy anxciet #virgil sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides #fae au #eros and psyche #squid scribbles

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adhdzagreus · 3 years

Note

30 for thanzagmeg hehehehehe

ThanZagMeg + 30. “Detention? Again?”

It could be weird, but I think I'm into it You know I'm one for the overly passionate I like you, and I loved him We could all be the best kind of friends

In the Middle // dodie

CW: innuendo and a dash of ableism

Thanatos was waiting for him at their usual spot next to Zagreus’ locker. He looked bored and handsome which made Zagreus feel even worse about what he had to do. A faint smile crossed Thanatos’ face when he saw him.

“There you are,” he said. “Any ideas where we’re going today?”

“I think it’s Megaera’s turn to pick,” Zagreus said. “Though about that--”

“Talking about me behind my back, are we?” came a voice in his ear. Megaera had joined them without his noticing, and now she curled her arm around his waist with a casual possessiveness that made his stomach flutter.

“Zagreus says it’s your turn to pick where we go for our date today. Is he correct?” Thanatos said with his subtle, mysterious smile.

“Hm. He is, for once,” she said. The bite of her words was undercut by her own smile.

“Don’t be too proud of me,” he said. “I can’t actually make it today.”

The smiles vanished from both of his partners’ faces. Megaera withdrew her arm from around his waist to look at him. “Why not, Zagreus?” she said.

“I, erm, have detention. I’m sorry.” He wilted slightly under the stern gaze of both his partners and Megaera’s use of his full name.

“Detention? Again?” Thanatos said. “What did you do this time, Zagreus?”

“I wasn’t paying attention in class. You know, Theseus, he has a tendency to go on and on, and it’s all really rather boring.” None of his classes were especially interesting, but Theseus’ had to be one of the worst, especially since he tended to take long tangents to talk about himself instead of whatever he was supposed to be teaching.

“Tch,” said Megaera. “He has a lot of nerve for such a recent hire.”

Thanatos frowned. “Zag, you told him you get accommodations for your ADHD, right?”

Zagreus brushed back his hair awkwardly. “Erm, no. It’s hard to get a word in edgewise with him. Besides, he doesn’t like me as it is.” Zagreus tried to play it off with a laugh, but neither Thanatos nor Megaera looked amused.

“Zag, are you serious right now?” Megaera said.

“...yes? He really doesn’t like me, and I really haven’t told him,” he said.

Thanatos sighed. “All right. It’s 3:04, and you’re supposed to be in detention when?”

Zagreus grimaced, dread settling in his stomach like an ice cube. “Four minutes ago.”

“Zagreus, you idiot, why didn’t you just text us?” Meg said.

“I thought it would be rude to cancel over text! And I wanted to see you two… We don’t have any of the same classes after all.” He ducked his head.

Megaera looked like she didn’t know whether to be mad or pleased.

“Well, what’s done is done,” said Thanatos. “What room is detention in? We should get going before it gets even later.”

“It’s in 224-- Wait, what do you mean, we should get going? Are you coming with me?”

“Obviously,” Thanatos said. “If you won’t stand up for yourself, I guess we have to do it for you.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Than. It’s not a big deal,” Zagreus said. He turned to Megaera, hoping she would take his side, but instead, she said, “Good idea, Thanatos, let’s get going.”

She seized Zagreus by his left hand and started off towards Room 224, leaving Thanatos to catch up and grab Zag’s right hand.

“I can’t believe you two,” he said as they escorted him to Room 224.

“I can’t believe you would just take this lying down,” Thanatos said.

“Oh, I can,” Megaera said with a grin as sweet and dangerous as poisoned honey. “You’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t you, Zag?”

Zagreus flushed. “Meg, you need to stop talking like that if you want me to be able to say anything sensible in my own defense. Besides…” He paused. “Only at your hands.”

“Ahem,” said Thanatos.

Zagreus grinned. “You’re welcome to try, Than.”

Thanatos smiled serenely. “I may take you up on that, Zagreus.”

Zagreus wondered if he was going to live long enough to regret saying that or if he was going to drop dead on the spot from a heart attack. Hopefully, the former. It was sure to be the kind of regret he was deeply into.

Much sooner than Zagreus would’ve liked, they arrived at Room 224, a perfectly ordinary classroom that happened to contain one of his least favorite teachers.

Theseus was standing at the front of the room, waiting impatiently, when he saw Zagreus enter, followed by Megaera and Thanatos. “You’re eight minutes late! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Eight minutes exactly? Have you been keeping count?” Zagreus replied without thinking.

“The insolence of you!” Theseus declared. “And who have you brought with you? Your partners in crime?”

“In a manner of speaking,” said Thanatos. “I am Thanatos, and that is Megaera. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Zagreus watched Theseus’ brow furrow as he registered the names (which he had surely seen plastered on the Honor Roll listings and various trophies) and could not make sense of them in this context. “What business do the two of you have with this delinquent?”

Zagreus assumed that meant him. “They’re my partners, if you must know, and they’re none too happy you’ve kept me from our date today, mate.”

Theseus looked absolutely baffled at this, like the idea of Zagreus having one partner, let alone two, was completely foreign to him.

“That is a concern, yes,” Thanatos said. “But if anything, I’m more concerned about a first-year teacher violating an IEP.”

Now Theseus looked thunderstruck which was so amusing to Zagreus that he immediately forgave Thanatos for meddling. “You cannot be talking about me!”

“Are there any other first-year teachers here?” Megaera said, looking at Theseus like one might a piece of gum stuck underneath a desk.

Theseus looked around and confirmed that there was not. “Be that as it may! What could you possibly be referring to?”

Zagreus cleared his throat. “Erm, hello?”

Theseus squinted at him. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“What? No!” Zagreus said. “Look, I probably should’ve mentioned it before, but you did make it pretty hard to get a word in. I know it’s not really an excuse for not paying attention, but--”

“Zag, hush,” said Megaera. “What he means to say is if you’d been willing to supply accommodations sooner, this wouldn’t have happened. Fortunately, it’s not too late to fix things.”

That was not what Zag had been trying to say, but Thanatos picked up the thread before he could say anything.

“Certainly, there were mistakes on both sides,” he said. “But now that you’re aware of Zagreus’ need for accommodations, surely you can see how ill-advised it would be to give him detention before you’ve even tried to accommodate his ADHD.”

Zagreus was slightly in awe of his partners’ ability to command the room. They’d managed to turn what he thought of as his own mistake back on Theseus.

“ADHD? Well, how was I to know that? I thought he was just insolent and flighty!”

“Oi, I’m right here, mate.”

“Quiet, I’m thinking,” Theseus commanded with a wave of his hand. Zagreus turned to his partners and gave them an exasperated look.

“Have patience,” Thanatos murmured. “I think we’ve almost gotten through to him.”

“Very well!” Theseus said suddenly. “You may have a reprieve. Be thankful I am so magnanimous and that I want to get home to my roommate. Begone from my sight, and some time before next class, email me your list of demands, demon!”

“All right…” Zagreus said slowly. He turned and headed out the door. “Did he just call me a demon?” he asked his partners.

“Zagreus, I don’t want to think about the things that man said,” Thanatos said. “I would be happy to never speak to him again.”

“Yes, he did,” Megaera answered. “He needs to learn to mind his tongue, or he won’t have it much longer.”

Zagreus laughed. “Erm… Thank you both. I can’t say I was looking forward to detention with Theseus.”

“Hm. You’re welcome, Zag,” Megaera said.

Thanatos waved him off. “There’s nothing to be thankful for. I was happy to straighten things out for you.”

Zag smiled and took both of their hands in his own, Meg on his left and Than on his right. “So. It’s Meg’s turn to pick. Where are we headed?”

#this was the only song i had for an ot3 if anyone had recs pls tell meeee #hades 2020 #prompt fill #thanzagmeg #hades #death blood and fury

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if-the-crown-fits-translate-it · 3 years

Text

Discord pt 31

[Date: 20/02, 03:02 AM - 20/02, 03:56 AM GMT]

[(Re-)Introduction to Chat]

[People were jokingly threatening Crown]

Crown: “Are you all having fun?”

Crown: “I don't much appreciate being insulted. And as you know, I have several people at my mercy.“

Crown: “You wouldn't want them to come to harm... Would you? :)”

Chat: “Why would you punish them for something they didn't do??”

Crown: “Behave. I can make things so, so much worse for them, and for you as well.

Do you understand?”

Chat: “More proof that Crown's a coward! He only punishes people he has control over because he doesn't have the guts to actually go after the perpetrators.”

kate (derogatory) [they/them]: “N-no... no, let's behave. We don't want our... our family hurt.”

Knight: “Please. Be nice. Dont hurt me.”

Chat: “Crown, don't hurt them.”

kate (derogatory) [they/them]: “Fe- Knight hasn't done anything to warrant being hurt. Please don't.”

Knight: “Dont hurt Viscount. Please. Dont hurt Page. Stop making him mad.” “Be. Nice.”

kate (derogatory) [they/them]: “Of course. We will be nice. We will behave.”

Viscount: “Please...”

Chat: “Crown, please don't hurt them. If anyone's to blame here, it's me. “

Chat: “Guys, I'm sorry! This is all my fault, I instigated this.”

Crown: “Pay no mind to Knight. Knight, as for you, why don't you go back to your document? You like it there, don't you?”

Knight: You’re right. I love my doc :) It’s very important to me. I’ll be going, then.”

Crown: “If you truly have what's best in mind for Knight and the others, you'll cease your insolence. Are. We. Clear?”

Chat: “OH GOD CROWN MESSAGED ME”

[Chat’s username and icon now have changed.]

Chat: “Guys. I’m scared.

I can’t let anyone get hurt. I can’t let Page anyone get hurt.

Haha. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Mothbo: “Chat, tell us your favorite color and ice cream. Hold on to that for now okay? Focus on good memories.”

Chat: “I like green/blue/purple, depending on the day. Chocolate coffee ice cream is my favorite.”

Chat: “My grandpa called me spontaneous and my sister said that meant impulsive. I miss them all so much. I'm a thousand miles away from anyone I can call family, but I'm glad you're here right now.”

Chat: “I'm glad you're with me, everyone. Here, at the end of all things.”

Chat: “You all have been so kind.”

[Everyone says something along the lines of “We are always here for you” and start expressing concern when Chat stops responding.]

Chat: “don’t worry. i’m still here”

kate (derogatory) [they/them]: “Good, good. Keep talking to us if you can”

Lynn (they/them): “good. please don't stop talking to us if you can manage”

Chat: “yeah, yeah, I will”

Page: “What’s going on

What happened”

[Everyone says something along the lines of “Max my beloved.”]

Page: “I was gone for like 2 minutes Is everything okay? What happened?”

[People are trying to explain to Max that he was taken by Crown.]

Knight, Page, and Viscount: “:)” [Multiple times]

[Everyone says something like “oh no”]

Knight: “Big smiles, everyone. :)”

[jayyyyyyyy: “viscount can you remember anything from yesterday?”

Viscount: “I,.,,

dont know.

what you mean...” (Morse: YES)

Page: “:)”

Chat: “Hello, everyone! It's so nice to finally meet you all here!”

[kate (derogatory) [they/them]: “chocolate coffee ice cream”]

Chat: “That sounds interesting! What are those, though?”

[jayyyyyyyy: “Yesterday you told us that if your memory got wiped, you wanted us to remind you. This is me reminding you.”]

Viscount: “I,.,,

dont know.

what you mean...” (Morse: YES)

Chat: “My name is Chat!”

Chat: “What? Crown's so nice! I asked if I could be here and now I am!”

Page: “Hello Chat!”

jayyyyyyyy: “hey, chat, can you show us what crown told you?”

Chat: “"Haha! Someone once told me that friends don't share things without permission, so I won't. You're all being very weird.”

Page: “Yes Chat that’s! Unless Crown gives permission you can’t tell others!”

Chat: “That's what I thought!!”

Knight: “A new friend? Hello, Chat!”

[jayyyyyyyyy: “maybe give them subconscious memory of it”]

Viscount: “Dots and dashes..

look.,. So. Lovely,, don’t. You,, agree,...

.-.” (Morse: I REMEMBER)

Page: “Crown can help! They’re really fun and kind!”

Knight: “You all sound very sad. :( I'm sorry if you are.”

[Knight: “They look rather odd, Vis. Why don't you just use one or the other.”]

Viscount: “Ah of course Knight. You’re right. :)”

Lynn (they/them): “We’re happy! All smiles, see? :)”

Knight: “You always just sound sad?”

Knight: “You were sad about us earlier. I can promise we are fine! :) don't worry Mona :) Your friends are safe :)”

Page: “You all seem really sad today? It's smile day you gotta smile :)”

#on:discord #by:crown #if the crown fits #by:knight #by:viscount #by:chat #by:page

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mistersshelby · 4 years

Note

Could you write a story where the reader works for Tommy perhaps as a secretary or sth like that and they don’t spend sonmuch time together (slow burn romance) and one day he discovers that she’s a painter and maybe goes through her drawings and ask her to paint sth. And then they finally spend some time together and it’s pretty intense. I just wish them to secretly be into each other but it all happens when they spend some time together. Btw LOVE YOUR WRITING! xxx sending love!!!

here you go love!! hope you like it!!

warnings: smut

questions, comments, concerns

masterlist

Your friends all thought you were mad when you announced you’d be working for the Shelbys. You wanna wind up dead in a ditch somewhere? They said, Those gypsy bastards have no morals!

But you would just shrug, Sounds like an adventure. You’d always reply and throw them a wink. It drove them insane. In truth, after meeting with the Shelbys, you weren’t particularly afraid of them. The way you saw it, as long as you were nice to them and didn’t betray them, you could keep your life. It seemed a fair deal to you.

So you went to work every day and kept to yourself. No one really noticed you, sometimes you’d drop completed paperwork off at people’s desks quietly and they’d never notice. You didn’t really mind. Since no one paid you much attention, it gave you time at work to paint when you were alone in your office and had finished all your work.

But one day, Tommy walked in on you. “What’s this?”

You nearly knocked over your paint from the surprise, “Mister Shelby! I-- I, uh, I finished my work, and I was just, um--”

“Painting.” He finished for you.

“I, yeah,” You sighed, “I’m sorry, I’ll clean this up. Did you need something?”

He scans the painting you were working on, a snapshot of a field of wildflowers he recognized from the outskirts of Birmingham, “Yeah, I was coming to see if you finished the paperwork I gave you this morning.”

You nodded, “Yeah, I dropped it on your desk hours ago.”

He looks up at that, “I didn’t see you.”

You shrug, “Wouldn’t be the first time.” You curse yourself for your insolent tone, “Sorry! I just meant that, um, nobody here typically notices me.”

He looks back at your painting, “You’re quite good.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He starts to back out of the room, “As long as you’re finishing your work, I don’t mind the painting.”

“Oh, um, thank you, sir.” But he’s already gone.

You collapse back into your chair, loosing a breath of relief. And then you chuckle, “Tommy Shelby thinks my painting’s good!” You shake your head at the ridiculousness of it, and then go back to your painting.

***

After that, Tommy started visiting your office more often. He memorized your schedule, knowing by the time lunch rolled around you were typically already done with your day’s work and about to start painting. He noticed when you dropped paperwork off at his desk now, still not looking up from his work, but murmuring his thanks before you moved on. He asked you to call him Tommy.

Dare you say it, but you think you and Tommy were beginning to become friends. “Still working on the same painting from yesterday?” He said one day, tossing you an apple as he walked in. He would bring you snacks some days, you found it sweet.

You bit into the crisp apple, “I’m shit at portraits.” You said, staring at the painting you had made of King George and his wife Mary.

He looked over your shoulder and you found yourself holding your breath at his closeness, “I don’t see what you see. It looks fantastic to me.”

You finally sigh, “You always say that.”

He chuckles in your ear and you ignore the chill down the back of your neck as he steps away, “I want you to paint something for me.”

You frown, “Really? What?”

“Could you paint Charles and I? Grace and I had something done, before, well, before--”

“I understand, Tommy.” You said, wanting to spare him the pain of having to recount that Grace was gone now and he wanted something of him and his son, “I’ll do it.

His face lights up, allowing you one of his rare smiles, “Really? Could you come this weekend? Saturday morning? I’ll compensate you for your time--”

You cut him off with the shake of your head, “I barely do work here anymore, all I do is paint. And you still pay me. You’ve done enough for me, this’ll be a gift.”

He nods, “Okay, it’s a deal then. I’ll see you Saturday.”

You grin, “See you Saturday, Tommy.”

***

Tommy helped you set up everything exactly as you wanted. Tommy sat in a seat, dressed in his best suit and Charles stood next to him, Tommy putting a hand on his shoulder. And then you began. Tommy’s eyes never really left you, except when Charles asked a question or two. Eventually you told him you had the picture in your head and Charles could go if he wanted. Once he left the room and it was just you and Tommy, you felt weirdly vulnerable.

You had never been so entirely alone with him before and it made your pulse jump. But not from fear, as your friends would probably expect, but excitement.

“When did you start painting?” He asks.

You peer around the canvas at him, “My mum used to paint, day and night. I wanted to be just like her so I started painting I think when I was about four or five. Haven’t stopped since.” You stopped painting and scrutinized what you had finished so far. The sun was beginning to set and you’d have to quit soon. You had gotten down Charles’s outline and had mostly worked on Tommy’s face for the rest of the day.

“I know that look.” Tommy said and pulled you out of your reverie.

“What?” You asked.

“You don’t like what you’ve painted so far.”

You sigh, “It’s not awful, I guess, but… your eyes, I can’t get them just right.”

He comes around to look himself, standing just over your shoulder the way he always does, his breath tickling your neck, “You made me look… regal. Like I’m someone important.”

You smile and turn to him, his face now entirely too close to yours, “Well, you are, aren’t you? I just paint what I see.”

He searches your eyes and you don’t miss the way they stray to your mouth, “You think entirely too much of me.”

“Or you think too little of yourself.”

“I think you think too little of yourself,” He counters.

“Then I guess we’re even.”

He smirks and then leans away from you and the bubble you two had created around you seems to burst. You realize as he walks away from you that you wanted desperately for him to kiss you.

“I guess I should be going now, then. I’ll be back next Saturday.”

“You can stay for dinner, if you’d like.” He sounds disinterested, as if his mind is already elsewhere.

You don’t know why it hurts you, but your heart aches all the same when it feels like you imagined whatever chemistry had been between you. “That’s alright, I’ve been here all day, I’ll get out of your hair.” You force a smile and gather up your things, “I’ll see you Monday, Mister Shelby.”

He takes a second, confused look at you at the formality, but you pretend not to notice and he walks you to the door, “See you Monday, Y/N.”

***

Tommy wonders by midweek why you’re seemingly acting so cold to him since Saturday, he can’t figure out what he’s done wrong. But you’re back to referring to him as “Mister Shelby” and “sir” and it feels like an insult.

“Did I say something to upset you?” He asks on Wednesday after you took the chocolate he had brought you today and set it down without touching it.

“What would make you think that?” You ask, refusing to make eye contact with him even though you can feel his stare baring holes into you.

“You don’t call me Tommy anymore, for one. For two, that’s your favorite chocolate and you acted like I’d handed you a head of lettuce.”

You glance down at the chocolate and lie, “I’m just not hungry. Had a big lunch.” You sigh when you feel him continuing to stare at you, “I just thought that… we shouldn’t forget our relationship to each other. You’re still my employer.”

“Do you hear the way the rest of my employees speak to me?”

You finally place your paint brush down into the cup of water you have on your desk and look at him, “I just like to be professional.”

He shakes his head, “You really think you can lie to me?” Before you can say anything he turns away from you, “I thought we were friends.”

You sigh, “Tommy, wait.” He pauses and turns back to you at the sound of his name, “We are friends, I just-- Can we just forget it, I was being stupid, I’ll call you Tommy again.”

He looks you over, seemingly trying to see what you’re hiding from him, but gives up, “I went through a lot of trouble to find that chocolate today.” He says instead.

Your mouth twitches into the barest of smiles, “Thank you.” You say and then tear it open to take a bite, “Happy now?”

He gives you a small smile and nods before leaving the room.

***

Painting Tommy and Charles on Saturday was making you incredibly anxious. Your heart jumped every time you peered around the canvas to see him staring at you. You worked on Charles again for most of the morning before you told him he could go play, and then it was just you and Tommy.

“You look like something’s bothering you.” He says after minutes of agonizing silence.

“I’m fine.” You immediately dismissed, “Tell me a story.”

“I only know sad stories.”

“That’s alright.”

And so for the next few hours he told you all about the war, finding Grace, her betrayal, losing Grace, finding her again, and then losing her one last time, for good. She could hear in his voice that she was his soulmate and she felt so stupid for being angry at him last week. He needed a friend right now, not a lover.

You were silent for a while after he stopped talking, “I’m sorry about last week. I-- I dunno what I was thinking.” Without being able to see him behind the canvas, you feel a bit brave, “I was stupid, I misinterpreted the way you were looking at me and I guess I just thought--” You chuckle nervously to hide how uncomfortable you are, “Anyway, it was stupid and I’m sorry.” You clear your throat when he doesn’t say anything, “It’s finished, if you’d like to look.”

You hear the sound of him rising from the chair and rub a hand on the back of your neck nervously as he approaches, “It’s perfect,” He says finally and your shoulders droop in relief, “This is what I look like to you, then?”

You wipe your hands on a damp rag Tommy had given you and nodded, you decide to continue being honest, “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and I wanted to do you justice.”

He crooks a finger under your chin and gently turns your face to look at him, “You didn’t misinterpret anything.” He says softly and your heart speeds up as he leans his face close to yours until your lips touch. You twine your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss and before you know it, you’re on the floor, Tommy crawling over you and pressing kisses at any bit of skin he can reach. He pushes your skirts up, nearly ripping a hole in your tights trying to get them off you and then his head disappears between your legs.

Your back arches, your breath growing heavy as his tongue makes quick work of you and when his fingers slide inside you it only takes a few more flicks and pumps before you finish. Breathing hard and still riding the high from your orgasm, you pull Tommy to you when he pulls his head out from beneath your skirts, looking quite pleased with himself.

He pulls you up into his lap so you straddle his hips and pulls your dress down so it sits around your waist. You fight the urge to cover yourself with your arms and instead drink in his hungry stare. His calluses feel rough against the soft skin of your bare back and he kisses down your chest, and then back up to your neck again. Finally, he slips inside you and you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips when he fills you up.

He lays you down on the floor again, hovering above you as you wrap your legs around his torso, your nails digging into his back. It feels like it’s over far too quickly. He rolls off you and you watch the way both your chests heave as you recover. You roll on your side to face him, your dress still pooled at your waist, “Did that… Did that mean anything to you? Or was I just a quick fuck?”

He looks at you and lifts his hand to lightly caress your cheek with his thumb, “I don’t know.” He says finally, “I’m sorry if that hurts you.”

You roll back onto your back and stare at the ceiling. You tried not to let his words sting you, but they did just the same. He rolls onto his side now to look at you, “Hey… You’re amazing, you know? Deserve much better than me--”

“It’s fine, Tommy, please. I don’t need your pity. You still love your wife, I understand.” You sit up and pull your dress up to cover yourself again, “Could you, um, button my back.” You felt embarrassed even asking, but he did it for you without complaint. “Your wife was really lucky, Tommy.” You turn to him and bring a hand to his cheek, swallowing past the lump in your throat, “I know you don’t think you deserved her, or that you deserve anyone, but you do. You’re wonderful and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

He takes your hand in his own and kisses your knuckles, “Thank you.” He murmurs, but you know he doesn’t believe you. And with that, you pull on your tights, gather your things and leave. You lie awake that night thinking of Tommy, wondering if he’ll ever love anyone who’s not Grace again.

#mine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby fic #anonymous

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danked-piccolo-shit · 4 years

Text

Beerus x Fem! Reader ( NSFW )

Warning ! NSFW ( This is, like, kinky I guess ? 🤔 But just a little bit, don't worry. Have fun anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it ! )

Second Warning ! Grab some popcorn and roll your best one, this shit is long!

Awakened by an odious nightmare wasn't the most pleasant way to wake up, let alone for a God. He could not help the grunting, it had been a long time since he had made such an horrible one, after all. His dry throat begged for some water, and so he decided to leave his bed before making his way out of the room nonchalantly. He had slept for three months, nothing but a nap, for him. However, thirst wasn't the only reason that brought him out of his sheets.

A lovely smell did came to tickle his nose, and he knew exactly the provenance of it. You. The charming little human whom he had put at his service to cook for him, and to avoid him having to constantly return to Earth to eat some delicacies of your planet that he was so badly mad of.

Everything you cooked was tasty, and you always seemed to do your best to please the delicate palate of your God by creating new stuff here and there. Sure, you took some time to accommodate, but it paid off. You were happy, befriended Whis in like 2 days and always hanging around with him when Beerus was asleep. He would bring you back to Earth when you needed raw materials, or just to see your family, even if the Lord would like to keep you at home as much as possible...

A yawn resonated in the corridors, before the big cat entered in your kitchen without you noticing it. Daydreaming of the sweets things you surely have done in his absence, and especially still timidly awake, the deity didn't notice the imminent collision that followed.

" Ouch... S-Sorry Lord Beerus, I didn't saw you coming " You proclaimed shyly before welcoming him properly.

It was only in the middle of a conversation that the God looked down, before making a huuuge leap backwards. A panties with drawings on it... It was the only thing you wore ! A little earlier, his gaze dared to meet your bare chest, with your hair successfully hiding each one of your nipples. Yeah, the Destroyer was fully awakened, now...

" How dare you walk around dressed like that ?! Aren't you ashamed, you filthy nudist ?! "

"Oh, sorry, but... How could I have predicted that you would come to my kitchen at 3 a.m, Lord Beerus? ^^" Besides, we don't see anything at all ! A-And my cookies are almost ready "

" Don't you try to justify yourself ! "

Despite his reprimands, the deity could only compliment your physique: on the criteria of his planet, your body was much more than magnificent. The way your hips swayed to face the oven where your cakes were still cooking, the way your buttocks lifted by the mere act of leaning forward... As if you wanted to make him admire a little more the fine fabric that prevented your nudity.

" Ah ! As you are awake, now, do you need anything ? A special meal or cake you want me to cook for you ? "

" D-Don't you turn around so fast ! "

Geez you really wanted him to have a heart attack, don't you ?

" Give me a glass of water... And maybe one of those 'cookies' you made... "

You move and offered him what he came for. However, you couldn't see the lustful look that devoured your thighs as you carefully put your cookies in a jar.

" And here is one for you ! " You said in a cheerful tone as you gave him the fruit of your work, unknowingly letting a nipple show itself to the God in your action.

_______________

The still warm cookie came crashing to the floor, smashing itself into a multitude of small pieces in a dry, clean sound, contrasting with the scream of surprise of the adorable servant you were. Your chest bounced gently as the destroyer seized you on the wrist and made you turn by force to face him completely. Your eyes filled with fear mirrored in the amber pupils, and the simple vision of it excited Beerus even more. The situation which you were in couldn't make room for a step back, and the worst was that you knew it. You had awakened the desire of a God, and you were going to pay for your insolence.

" How dare you get scared. You are the one who started it all, remember ? "

" L-Lord Be- "

" Shut up "

Without warning, he removed the strand of hair that once again hid your nipple before letting his free hand play with the sensitive skin of your breast, admiring your oh so lovely reaction when he did. His other hand released your wrist, before also enjoying the more exquisite and softer feel of this particular area. You did not oppose any resistance. You knew all too well what was waiting for you if you did. And, maybe, a part of you still believed you'll have the deity's mercy if you went along with what he was doing to you.

Wrong.

The tail of your worshipped lord slowly found its way between your thighs, pressing the soft fabric of your panties against your clit. His action made you shiver, and the growing smile Beerus showed you when you felt your nipples hardening under his touch only helped you realise how screwed you truly were.

The iron grip of the destroyer threatened to crush your breasts, and the sharp teeths that came to gently bite your neck sometimes changed into kisses. You couldn't stop a loud moan to escape from your lips when he bit you a little harder than before, and some hot tears to run from your cheeks as he pinched your nipples so.fucking.hard.

" P-Please, my Lord- Aaaahh ~ ♡ "

Did he just...whip your ass with his tail ? Sure he did. And for some reason, you liked it. You liked the red mark that traced its passage on your buttcheek, you loved the bites marks you'll surely be able to see tomorrow... The god of destruction was going to fuck you, and that idea made your whole body warm up instantly.

You didn't have sex in a long time, and being wanted by a powerful deity was kinda flattering to say the least. You had no way to escape, anyway, so why not letting the part of you that wanted it to express itself ? That's what you told yourself to justify the sinful desire that was starting to flow more and more in your heated body as Beerus stole your lips in a passionate kiss.

The tail that still rubbed between your thighs came to whip your ass again, letting another of your moan to break the deep kiss you were receiving from your Lord.

" You're only waiting for that, huh? I warn you, I would be absolutely not lenient with you. You deserve no favorable treatment after having excited me so much ... "

Unconsciously, you bit your lips, causing your God to rip the one and only piece of clothing you possessed.

" Be... Lord Beerus ~ "

" Silence ... On your knees before your God of Destruction "

His hands slid over your body one more time before you obeyed, leaving the thin strips of tissue of his clothing to fall down, now revealing the imposing cock of the deity.

Instinctively, you began to suck, despite the growing pain in your jaw to have something as big in your mouth. Your tongue danced around his dick, only wanting to please the god in front of you, as you slowly slipped a finger in your wet entrance in hope to prepare your body for what will be coming next.

Beerus was in paradise. You did it so well ! Gradually, you gave him a pleasure to which he had lost taste for since, what, a few billion years already ? You were such an obedient little human ! The least he could do to congratulate you was to give you the honor to help you a little bit, didn't he ? A strong grip came to grab your hair, much to your surprise, only to push his cock further into your mouth, smothering the cry of pain you let escape in his action. What the God didn't suspect was that he too ended up moaning as he aggressively continued to abuse your throat. Enough, he had enough, ENOUGH ! Without warning, he removed your head quickly before pushing you down to bump into you brutally.

The scream you obviously let escape immediately made him grab your hips, now letting your loud moans to resonate in the kitchen in a mix of pleasure and pain that Beerus was truly content to hear. Your walls menaced to break at each movements from the Destroyer, and the simple pressure of his hands on your hips could break your bones at any time. Never in your life did you felt so....full.

" Little pervert ~ You love it, don't you ? "

The deity gained in intensity, bending your spine much more than what your body could normally bear. To hear you shout his name again and again was starting to drive him crazy, as well as to revive his impatient temper...

" Answer.... NOW ! "

His tail that crashed once again on your buttocks has only made you shed more tears. Your whole body shivered against your will, impossible to make it stop. You came so hard it made your head rock against the floor, and the divine cum that came to spread in your pussy a few seconds later couldn't had help to contain a second orgasm that ravaged you.

He slipped out of your abused hole, waaay to open now to keep all the fluids inside. You were a shivering, still moaning mess, even if you already had finished.

" Didn't want to answer, my adorable servant ? "

Beerus lifted you up, using once again his prodigious force to press you against the wall, placing his still erected dick in front of your entrance. You didn't have the strength to answer, you didn't even remembered which you needed to answer for, to be honest.

Your blushing face, your pained moans, your trembling body, the way you avoided his gaze... For Beerus, this was awfully cute. You were awfully cute. So cute, in fact, that he wanted to do it again ~

After all, your lack of response was an affront to your God ;)

You screamed in pleasure before you had the time to recover your senses, and your still sensitive body collapsed again under the grip of the destroyer. Cradled by your cries and your moans, Beerus allowed himself to soil your work space a little more, during the different orgasms that followed.

He left no place of your body untamed, he even redoubled strength and caresses to make you say everything he wanted you to tell him.

His dick was good ? Of course it was !

Be filled with his cum ? Yes ! Every part of your body must be !

Never going back on Earth, never see your family again ? Sure ! If it was what you Master and Lord wanted...

Your mental health slowly broke with each one of your orgasms, to the point that you were finally convinced and even happy to become his pleasure object for the rest of your mortal life.

It's a little surprised and disappointed that Beerus saw a solar ray illuminate your body, despite the closed shutters. It was time to end this little game that was his, and to let you recover a little ... At least until tonight ~ Before cumming for the last time, he let his eyes filled with lust contemplate your kitchen, and particularly the few places where he didn't take you to make you beg for more. He filled your belly once again, as he finished to admire how hoarse your breathing was.

" When you get a little better, clean me all this mess. I leave you all the rest of the day to do it. No need to cook, today, just make sure you have enough energy to go to my apartments at the end of the afternoon ~ "

You barely had the strength to nod, your throat was so dry from the screamings that you couldn't let any word to escape from your lips. The clothes and jewelry regained the burning skin of the destroyer, now satisfied with the scarlet color that your buttocks took. He exited the room, not without exchanging a last accomplice gaze with you. You truly were his favorite little human ~

_______________

Beerus growled at the touch of his erection rubbing against the soft fabric of his pajamas, making him regret to actually have gone back to bed, while he could have realized this scenario that he couldn't stop to visualise in his mind. If one day he had been told that he would use his mental visualization for that purpose ... He wasn't going to hide it, he was a little bit ashamed of himself to imagine all of that, but you were so tempting... And thinking of you this way was better than waking you up brutally in the middle of the night to satisfy his impulses... Yes ? No ? HE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW !

Why did he leave after eating one of your cookie ? Did he was too shocked by your beautiful body ? Or was that because he didn't wanted to loose the precious food you provided him everyday just for a little bit of amusement ? He curses himself for his indulgent behaviour towards you, while the sinful nipple of yours shown again in his memories.

His sleep was going to be hard to regain... :(

You truly were lucky your cookies were so good....

He growled again.... Godammit... ( or Zenodammit ? XD )

_________________________

This is it ! Hope you've enjoyed it so far, and, as always, thanks for reading, pal 👋

#beerus #beerus x reader #dragon ball super #dragon ball

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theeternalspace · 5 years

Text

Absent Gods 1

I want to wish a really, really happy birthday to the all wonderful @i-will-physically-fight-you. You have been a really good friend to me ever since I was lucky enough to be paired with you all that time ago during a Big Bang.

Since it’s your birthday, I give you this gift. Logan and Virgil angst. I don’t know how many chapters it will be total, but I hope you will stick with me, one and all. Because Logan has some learnin’ to do!

This will have a happy ending.

Masterpost

Title: Absent Gods and Silent Tyranny or: How Logan Learned to Stop Over Thinking and Love Everyone

Pairings: None / Platonic LAMP with Logan and Virgil focus.

Characters: Logan, Virgil and The Dragon Witch in this chapter.

Summary: Dr. Logic makes his living working for whichever Super Villain is willing to pay. At the end of the day it is a job where he can put his talents to work.

He certainly isn’t bothered by things like public morality or the definition of good vs evil. He doesn’t have time for things like that, although he accepts that he would be considered a ‘bad guy’. As far as Logan is concerned, it is a small price to pay for the benefits of proper scientific funding.

But when his latest invention fails and his Boss decides to punish someone else for his mistakes, Logan is forced to reevaluate everything he thought he knew.

And maybe accidentally make some friends along the way.

Warnings: Morally grey Logan - he doesn’t get it you guys. Threats of torture, angst. General Villainy. Being held captive. If I’ve missed any let me know.

Previous || Next

~~~

There were many things that Logan didn’t understand about his boss.

Her almost obsessive need for dramatics was just one of them. Admittedly, right now, it was fairly high up on the list of things he didn’t understand and wished he did. Mostly because right now he was sat in a chair with a ring of fire around it to keep him in place while she prowled backwards and forwards outside. Really, the whole thing was pointless since Logan hadn’t made a single attempt to leave. He saw no need, she had called him in for a meeting and so a meeting they would have.

There were other things he didn’t understand about her. A lot of them were in some way connected to that dramatic impulse which ran through every action she took. It was as though being a villain intent on overthrowing the current ruling regime and replace it with her own rule wasn’t enough for her. She had to somehow stand out from the rest of the would be dictators and tyrants. Like many of them, she had decided to go dramatic to do so.

Logan was fairly certain that by trying to stand out, she just made herself fade more into the background because it was hard to tell her apart from any other cackling villain giving a monologue about their latest plan.

Still, as far as super villains went, he had worked for worse. He had spent several particularly unpleasant years stuck as head ‘henchman’ for a particularly inept villain who considered himself a mad scientist even though it had been Logan who had done most of the work. Logan would have quit long ago if it hadn’t been for the awkward fact that he had accidentally agreed to let the man genetically tag him. Logan never made the same mistake twice however and he made doubly sure to read every contract before signing it.

If it hadn’t been for the heroes eventually shutting him down and one of them wiping the hard drives that contained Logan’s bio-metric passport, he would still be stuck there, more a slave than anything else.

As it was, he had been able to escape in the confusion, quickly getting himself another job with another villain.

Logan didn’t fool himself. He didn’t consider himself a particularly good person. Then again, he didn’t consider himself a particularly bad one either. He worked for her because the pay was good and because - for the most part - he agreed with her aims should she ever actually manage to take over the world. At this point, he was starting to wonder if she could even manage to take over the city.

How hard could it be to take over a city? Not that Logan would ever question her on that. He valued his own skin too highly for that and he learnt almost right away that you didn’t insult or question the boss.

It had led to many bitten cheeks over the years but that was a price Logan was willing to pay rather than being vaporised on the spot. Or worse, agonisingly tortured to death for insolence, like so many of his rather stupid colleagues over the years.

Sometimes, he wondered why he had never taken the step to become a super villain in his own right. He could probably do a much better job of it that most of his employers. He wouldn’t waste time telling the heroes his plans. He would merely dispose of them and move on.

Still, if he had done that, then he might never have met - no. Best not to think, to second guess himself in the hypothetical.

It wouldn’t be death. He wouldn’t kill and that was one of the reasons why he was content to remain as a head scientist or tech in whatever evil organisation he was currently working for. With the aforementioned mad scientist excluded, all his previous evil employers had nothing but positive things to say about him. He had glowing references - in the case of the one from a radioactive villain, quite literally glowing.

He didn’t particularly want to take over the world. The neat and logical order that would come with him ruling was a tempting prospect but Logan had no desire for all the work that came with it. He would be content with ruling his own little area as promised.

Right now, however, he was seriously considering handing his notice in. Honestly, he had been considering the concept for a while now, ever since her latest... hire. He didn’t mind working with someone else so long as they either knew their place or could match him in intelligence. They could never do the later but they tended to fall into the former. Or else he convinced her to get rid of them. Logan never really lost much sleep over what ‘got rid of’ could mean in the context of a super villain. It was just part of life and he moved on from it.

But the latest helper had been different. He could almost match Logan in talent. If it wasn’t for the rather unfortunate little fact that he was a prisoner and being held against his will then they would have gotten along splendidly from the start.

As it stood, it had taken them weeks to get past the rather frosty greetings each shift. The chains and guards probably didn’t help matters but Logan couldn’t understand why he was so opposed to making the best of a bad situation. It didn’t matter that he might not agree with her methods - he was her prisoner and it would be logical to go along with her wishes to save himself further pain.

Virgil hadn’t thought much of that logic. Which had resulted in more beatings that Logan had thought strictly necessary. He needed him intact for their work.

Eventually, Virgil had settled into some kind of grumpy obedience, enough that they were able to converse - albeit still with a guard present - and make progress on various work orders from the boss. Logan had come to rather admire Virgil’s brain in those weeks and eventually something approaching a friendship had been formed. Enough that Logan could trust Virgil not to stab him in the back. Enough for him to be able to produce some very useful items for his boss.

Enough to start to give him doubt about if it was... right, to keep Virgil here against his will.

He was safer here. There was little chance of attack because if there was one thing Ms Dragon Witch was good at, it was keeping her secret lairs, well secret. Virgil was the first ‘heroic’ prisoner she had ever brought to her base, and he was never allowed out of the lab or the cell he was kept in next to it. Logan had a horrible suspicion he was sedated whenever she wished to see him so that Virgil couldn’t learn the layout of the base.

All the better for Virgil. The less he knew, the less danger he was in. The less chance there was that he would think to make an escape attempt - not that Logan thought Virgil was that foolish, he was too smart to risk himself on such a small chance of success.

There were no fights down here, no chance of being caught in the crossfire. Just food, a roof and the chance to work on his projects. What more could anyone need?

According to Virgil, quite a lot. He wanted to go home, and he didn’t insult Logan’s intelligence by pretending that had changed. He wanted his brother and his other friends, no matter how idiotic he called them. He wanted to not be a prisoner. That last one, at least, Logan could sympathise with.

But if Logan gave in his notice, there was no way that his Boss, would allow him to take Virgil as a leaving present. He was her prized possession, her trophy and she adored having him brought to her chambers to gloat about whatever recent mission that had gone well. It was all rather inconsiderate of her, since more often than not the two of them had been deep in work when the summons had arrived.

Not to mention how pale and shaken his assistant always was when he was eventually returned to him. Virgil would take hours and sometimes a whole day to recover and get back into the groove of things. He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly she showed him.

More and more, he felt like there had to be something he could do to aid Virgil, but he had yet to come up with a plan that didn’t get them all killed. If only Virgil could be reconciled to his new life. If only his boss would stop tormenting him so Logan could convince him of the merits. If only his friend wasn’t being hurt every day while Logan simple worked on his projects.

It was a worry in the back of his mind, nothing more. It wasn’t a distraction and he refused to allow himself to be sidetracked by anything. Logan certainly wasn’t using those thoughts as an excuse for what had happened earlier today when Dragon Witches attempted attack on City Hall had been thwarted by the heroes. Her escape had been a close thing, with Logan’s devices barely functioning. Certainly not as he had intended.

So his invention had failed. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Not even a genius like Logan could claim to have a one hundred percent success rate as much as he might wish otherwise. He was convinced that it wasn’t malicious but merely creator - or more likely user - error. He would improve on them and the same mistake would never happen again.

The problem seemed to be his bosses increasingly paranoid view of the world. And how she didn’t seem to believe him that it had been an innocent accident. Instead, she had summoned him for this meeting, threw flame around his chair and then started ranting. Accusing him of either sabotaging the devices himself in the hope she would be captured or turning a blind eye to allow Virgil to do it to his work.

It was insulting to think that he would betray his own values so lightly. He worked hard for his money, he worked hard for his reputation. He wouldn’t sacrifice it for mere sentiment, no matter how increasingly unstable she was becoming. He would simply quit, as he had considered. He certainly wouldn’t allow Virgil to sabotage his work, no matter how uneasy he felt about their partnership because that would be sabotaging everything Logan held dear.

A shame, he couldn’t help but feel that she failed to see the beauty in those logical thoughts. Or the truth in them.

She stood a few paces in front of him, having finally stopped her relentless prowling backwards and forwards. Deceptively delicate looking hands rested on her hips as she stared at him over the flames. As always, she was dripping in jewellery, rings on every finger, multiple bracelets and bangles jangling on her wrists with every little motion. Logan had always wanted to point out the fact that she made noises with her jewellery when she moved probably didn’t help her plans to be stealthy.

Once again, a healthy respect for his own skin staying intact had kept him quiet. Just as he kept quiet about the hideous fashion choice that was her ‘uniform’. A tight fitting gold and silver dress with a slit almost up to her waist might be her idea of seductive but as Virgil had once so rightly described her, she looked almost... tacky, than anything else. Coupled with the high heels she insisted on wearing, it certainly wasn’t a practical outfit but he swallowed down the biting comments he wished to say.

Working for a super villain could be so exhausting sometimes.

“So you still refuse to admit your guilt Dr. Logic?”

“I cannot admit to something I didn’t do Ms Dragon Witch.” There was no point in losing his temper even now. She would have to see reason eventually. All he had to do was explain things in smaller words until she eventually understood. He knew he was in the right and given enough time he was confident that he could convince her of that. All Logan had to do was stay alive long enough for her anger to fade and leave her more open to reason.

“Fine,” she snapped. “You say you didn’t do it, thus logically you have nothing to be worried about it. In which case, I am sure you won’t mind what is about to happen.” One hand lifted into the air, the various bracelets making an all too familiar jingle jangle as they did. She didn’t say or do anything else but he had no doubt that the movement was a recognised signal for something.

“Why?” Logan asked. He had to ask, he had to know. “What is about to happen?”

She smiled, something cold and empty. The fire that still raged around him seemed to be the only hot thing left in the room. Logan had thought he wanted her to calm down, to stop ranting and raving at him but now that she had done just that, he found her expression... disconcerting in the extreme. She was up to something. Her devious mind had been one of the attractions to accepting the job in the first place but he had never planned to be on the receiving end of her schemes.

“I am not convinced of your honesty Dr. Logic. I think that little assistant I gave you has been messing with you. Maybe you don’t even realise what he has been doing hmm? Maybe you’re not as smart as you like to think and he’s been tricking you? Maybe you are falling for his poor little me act?”

She was talking about Virgil, Logan realised with an unpleasant jolt. She was acting as though Virgil was manipulating him, that he was the victim here.

Logan didn’t doubt that Virgil would take advantage of a situation like that if the opportunity presented itself to him. Virgil was a survivor and you didn’t become one of those by forever following the rules. He wanted to get out of here and back to the place that he called home. Of course he would leap at any chance. That didn’t mean there had been any chance for him to do that. Logan made sure that he wasn’t faced with any such temptation.

And how dare she think that Logan would be that foolish as to fall for such a thing? Logan might have some latent sympathy for the predicament that Virgil found himself in but there was no way he would be so foolish as to help him. Not like that. Helping like that would only lead to pain. Logan was keen to keep both of them away from that.

Also, he was just smarter in general than to be fooled by someone trying to sabotage his work behind his back.

“I can assure you that you are incorrect. My work was not tampered with, either by myself or my assistant. Sometimes projects do not work as well as intended. Surely you can appreciate such a fact?”

It was cutting perilously close to the bone, to make such a comment. To remind her of all her own failures. Logan however, was starting to become a little desperate. He couldn’t decide if the way she ignored him was a good thing or not. Dragon Witch curled some of her dark brown hair between her fingers, twisting it into a tighter and tighter circle as she carried on speaking. Her voice was light, almost musing but no less deadly because of that.

“Either way I’m going to have to punish him for your failure.”

It was my failure!” Logan protested. He tried to ignore how his heart leapt into his mouth at the sight of the still form of Virgil being dragged into the room. The purple haired man was held by his arms, hanging limply between two of her guards, head bowed. It didn’t comfort Logan to get confirmation of his theory that she kept him unconscious from room to room. Normally, being proved right was a sure fire way to cheer Logan up. It settled and reassured him.

Seeing Virgil in such a weakened state didn’t do that this time.

“Ah the guest of honour,” she purred, turning away from Logan, her attention momentarily lost by the new arrival. It gave Logan a chance to shift a little in his seat, trying to get a better view of Virgil. It was hard to tell over the flames but he was confident that Virgil was at least breathing - it remained to be seen if that would actually be a good thing or not.

Ms Dragon Witch clicked her fingers, pointing towards another chair, set in perfect symmetry to Logan’s own. There was a circle of dust around it, powder that Logan knew could turn to flame at a moment’s notice. How he had failed to notice it before was beyond him, but then again, his attention had been fixed on the danger in front of him. Not the seating arrangements opposite him.

Virgil was deposited none too gently in the chair, his head still slumped forward on his chest.

“Finally, time to play. What do you say Dr. Logic? Shall we test some theories?”

“Theories?” Logan repeated back to her, gaze darting between his boss and his assistant. The flames had to be getting to him at last, because he could feel sweat beads springing up along his forehead. “I am a man of science, you know I am always interested in proving or disproving theories.”

“Excellent! Let’s find out just what happened shall we? And how long it takes for my little toy to scream this time.”

Her smile was as unsettling as before, sharp and cutting. She threw back her head and laughed, a super villain finally indulging herself to her limit. Logan had seen her in these moods before, but he had never been on the receiving end of one. He had always known better but now, through no fault of his own it appeared as though he was about to get a taste of her at her worst.

Or was it, Virgil was about to learn just how evil she could actually be?

For perhaps the first time in his life, Logan finally found something that he didn’t want to know the answer to.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #dragon witch #angst #wip #absent gods #aca writes #long post

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theoneandonlyameliajones · 4 years

Text

Wishing For You Chapter 1

Summary: The Kingdom Todoroki has seen better days. Amidst the chaos, two boys work together to hunt down a wishing potion that could change both their lives. Will Prince Shoto Todoroki ever escape his life as a royal? Will ordinary Izuku Midoriya ever become a UA Knight? Find out as they discover secrets about the kingdom and secrets about each other.

The kingdom of Todoroki had seen better years. The chaos it was experiencing now was brought by King Enj Todoroki, who ruled with an iron fist. Not only was the king short-tempered and ill-mannered, but also downright cruel. His subjects learned to fear him and those who decided to dissent were purged. The purges were commonplace and citizens knew that they too could get burned at the stake just as their brothers, mothers, and lovers had. Morover, the king had a strong personal military known as the UA Knights. The knights were not all bad and some righteous individuals joined their ranks, but most of them were power-hungry. They would carry out the king’s orders without a second thought and were the ones who gathered up citizens for the king’s purges. It helped that these Knights weren’t ordinary humans, they each had a mark on their body called a wielder mark which would help them wield a certain power that would enhance their battle prowess. King Enji Todoroki held the wielder mark for fire, but some knights held the mark for water, wood or strength. Each mark had a unique shape and location on one’s body and only 2% of the population had one. However, the mark was a requirement if you wanted to become a UA Knight. Unfortunately, one Izuku Midoriya didn’t have such a mark. Still, his dream was to become one of the infamous UA Knights. Let’s take a look at him, shall we?

Young Midoriya lived on a small farm on the outskirts of the kingdom with only his mother and animals to keep him company. Still, he was a big dreamer and wanted more than anything to be a UA Knight. Unfortunately, without a wielder mark, his dream could never be.

“Izuku Baby! What are you doing!” yelled Inko Midoriya. Izuku stole his mother’s sheep herding staff once again. He would often pretend it was a sword and train with it. Although at first, his mother found it endearing, he was older now and should have known that he could never become a knight.

“Mom, I told you I’m training. How else am I going to become a UA Knight?” said Izuku with a big smile. Inko loved his smile, but his statement made her heartache every time.

“Izuku we talked about this,” frowned Inko, “without a wielder mark there is no way you could ever become a UA Knight. Besides, why would you want to be one anyway? You do know what they did to your father right?”

“I know, I know. I’m not saying that all the kights are good, but I want to be one just like All Might. He would help people and I heard he even helped people escape the purges. I want to help people just like he did.”

“I know honey, but there are other ways to do that. No one even knows what happened to All Might. Some say he was purged by the King, and I don’t want to lose you like I lost your father baby. Stay here on the farm and help me out, that way I can keep you safe.” Inko pulled her son into a tight hug. It was less for him and more for herself. She loved her son more than the entire world and promised long ago not to let anything happen to him.

“You know I don’t want to leave you Mom, but the farm is struggling. If we don’t make some money fast, then I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. If I could just become a knight, they have great pay and I would be able to support you and the farm.”

“Izuku how do you plan on doing that without a mark!” His mother yelled in frustration. To her, it seemed her baby boy was just ignoring the facts.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan,” he smiled at his mother as he headed inside to grab his book bag. “I’m heading into town, I’ll be back within a few days.” he kissed his mother goodbye and ran off.

“Izuku!!!” Inko yelled, but to no avail. She would just have to hope that he would be back safe, but that was much easier said than done.

What Izuku told his mother was true, he did have a plan. He found a book in his father’s study that held a few loose pages each highlighting different secrets of the kingdom. Various things that didn’t interest Izuku about the rumored heir, castle politics and the king himself. However, there was one thing that did, the recipe for a wishing potion which was said to make any wish come true. The recipe called for 5 ingredients: a witch’s acid, a feather of darkness, a tear of mourning, a hair from a retired knight and bark from the Amour Tree. Izuku figured that if he gathered all the ingredients then he could finally get a wielder mark and become a UA Knight. That being said, he had no idea how to get some of these ingredients. Still, he had to start somewhere and knew exactly where to get the first one.

Meanwhile, in the palace, Crown Prince Shoto Todoroki was busy listening to his father’s drivel. The prince was familiar with his father’s cruelty and wanted more than anything for the King to get what he deserved. Still, he knew that he would have to be the one to supersede him, but wanted to do anything but. The people needed a strong and kind-hearted leader now and Shoto knew that he wouldn’t be able to rebuild the kingdom after all his father had done. Why would the people want another Todoroki to rule them anyway?

“Shoto? Have you been listening to a word I said?” the King grunted in frustration.

“I’m sorry father. Could you please repeat it?” asked Shoto uninterestedly.

“I swear you are going to be King of this kingdom when I die, the least you can do is listen to me. Your 18 now Shoto, it is time to get married, yet you still haven’t decided from the many princesses I’ve shown you.” said the King. Shoto remembered the many portraits of princesses brought in. They were all very pretty, but to Shoto, that was all they were. He didn’t really know any of them after all.

“Sorry father, but none of them interest me. I suppose I’m just not in the mood to get married right away. How am I supposed to decide if I don’t even know them?”

“It’s not that big of a decision boy, you are not marrying for love. You are marrying for an heir. If you don’t marry then how will the Todoroki line continue?”

“Perhaps it shouldn’t,” Shoto muttered under his breath.

“What was that boy?!” his father yelled once again.

“Nothing father.”

“I’m tired of your insolence.” The King’s hair began to flame up, “It has been decided, you will marry Princess Yayourozu and produce an heir. I hear her wielder mark is quite powerful and you two will be able to create strong children. After that, I don’t care what you do with her. If you disobey me then I shall teach your mother a lesson. She should have raised you better after all.” sneered the King. Shoto looked up at him and fear began to overwhelm him, his father has been known to do horrible things to the queen and Shoto would not have his mother suffer any more of that.

“Yes father,” the prince bowed his head down.

“Now, let’s continue to plan your debut. We only have two weeks after all.” smiled the King. Prince Shoto was kept hidden from the outside world. The King was paranoid that someone might try to hurt him through his son and for that reason, his son never saw past the castle gardens. However, now that he was 18 the King figured it was a good idea to unveil his greatest creation, and what better day to do it on than his son’s wedding day. Shoto wanted no such thing though, he just wanted to live a normal life. Although he knew he could not let his father continue his rule. More than anything, he wanted someone else to take over. Someone who could actually lead and be a ruler of the people. How was he, someone who hadn’t met anyone out of the palace, supposed to do that? He had one hope, a recipe that he tucked in his back pocket. After his father retired to his chambers, Shoto began to pack his things. Having a little too much fool-hardy courage, he wrote a note to his personal knight, Tenya Iida, telling him to protect his mom while he was away. He knew Iida would probably be mad, and felt bad for leaving his mom, but knew that this was the only way to solve this problem for good.

#tododeku #bnha todoroki #todoroki x izuku #mha izuku #todoroki shoto #izuku midoriya #izutodo

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Sable Skirts (III)

First Night

Summary: Keris has an unwelcomed visitor.

Note/Warning: So this is a fic I’m reposting from ao3. It’s a dark!Thorin Oakenshield/OC fic. It’s very dark, like super. It includes violence, noncon, and overall a bad time. Please mind that warning. Let me know what you think (I’ll be posting a few a day until I catch up)

THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES VIOLENCE AND NON-CON. PLEASE BE CAREFUL!

This is dark!Thorin Oakenshield and explicit. 18+ only.

The knocking repeated and Keris could hear the faint shift of the heavy doors being pulled open. She listened through the closed door, staunch footsteps stomping across the foyer. Faintly, Dorina spoke in her sultry way, her dusky voice greeting the visitor. She had thought it to be late; Caina had suggested that all those who had been expected had already arrived.

A deep voice, familiar and resounding, startled her as it called out angrily. “Where is she?” The king boomed.

“Who?” Keris could guess Dorina’s following inquiry even as it was muffled through the wood.

“That little wench who was writing those damned treasonous lies.” Keris froze, leaning against the door.

“She’s just arrived, your majesty.” Dorina’s voice was closer, footsteps sounding at the entrance of the corridor. “We just got her cleaned up--”

“I don’t care if you just painted her pink and purple,” He interjected, “Where is she?”

“She’s here, she’s here, just one moment while I get her.” Dorina’s voice gave an unusual quaver of fear.

Keris forced herself away from the door. She braced herself before she turned the knob and urged her slippered feet into the hallway. Dorina nearly collided with her as she exited, grabbing her by the wrists. “There you are, girl. Hiding like a little rat!”

“Let me go,” Keris tugged her arms away from the Mistress, “I can find my own way.”

“It’s that trite tongue that’s got the king so mad,” She hissed, “I’ve never seen him so incensed.”

“Likely because you only see him without his trousers,” Keris replied. She was practicing on Dorina, knowing the king to be a more formidable foe. She needed to find her wit before she met him. “Now, please. Since he is so intent upon my blood.”

Keris marched past Dorina who pressed herself to the wall, horrified at the insolence of her newest charge. She could see the king’s figure at the end of the hallway, pacing the stone floor of the front room. Her chest seized but she couldn’t show her fear. Truly, what worse could he do? Take her to the block? She was starting to think it the wiser choice.

She stepped into the light of the foyer, King Thorin stopped as he spotted her. His face wrinkled with confusion. Her face was hidden by the veil and he must have thought her another. Until the realization washed over him.. In an instant, his brow was lowered and he was charging towards her. His hand rose but paused, rescinding as he looked around himself. Dorina was watching from the corridor and several other dams were on chaises, with guests or various instruments, either for sewing or music.

He shook his head as if shedding an unseen mask. He swallowed and took a step back, looking down at the ghostly figure before him. Consideration narrowed his eyes and his pressed his lips together. He looked to Dorina as machination brewed within.

“Ahem, Mistress,” He called formally. His ire had slaked away and Dorina smiled as she neared, a sensual bow directed at the king, “Is there somewhere I may speak with your…” He exhaled as he thought, “White veil?”

“Yes, your majesty,” She answered eagerly, “Right this way.”

Dorina directed him to the east corridor, swaying her hips as she walked ahead of him. He motioned for Keris to precede him, which she did hesitantly. She could feel his eyes boring into her back. She could only imagine what he had in mind. Without his nephews and lords watching, he could beat her to his heart’s content. He could do it in front of his court if he so wished. She was after all, a criminal.

“The first white veil since your father’s reign, your majesty,” She said over her shoulder, “I understand her misdeeds but it is special indeed.”

“Unexpected, to say the least,” Thorin agreed but said nothing else.

Dorina stopped before a door, knocking before she opened it. She pulled a key from her corset, smiling at the king as she turned to him. “The room is yours.” He took it with a grunt and nudge Keris inside before slamming the door behind him. She turned in preparation for his assault but he merely watched her. His eyes didn’t leave her as he sat in the armchair, his air of regality never faltered.

“I was eagerly awaiting your turn at the block this evening when my Lord of the Chamber informed me of the change in plans. He, of course, is free to judicial license but I never expected this. Why, who would want to share a bed with a treasonous rat like yourself?” His voice was dangerous, “To tell it true, I came to drag you back to your cell. To bring the ax down myself.” He paused in contemplation, rubbing his chin with his fingers for a moment. He tilted his head slyly. “Go on, take the veil off.”

It was Keris’ only shield, hiding the fear bubbling in her stomach. She slowly reached up and flipped the veil back, revealing her face as she stilled her nerves. She lowered her hand, wanting to bunch her skirts in her fingers but she held them straight at her side.

“You don’t look so bad without all that dirt,” He remarked with a snort, “Almost like a proper dam.” He stood and she fought not to flinch. He neared, his eyes never leaving her face. He reached up and took the ends of the veil in his fingers, tugging so that the headdress came off, letting it fall to the floor. “You don’t look like a mountain dwarrow.”

“My mother was of Erebor,” She snarled, “My father was Crowfoot.”

“Hmm, explains such a seditious heart,” He said as he took a shank of her hair in his hand, feeling the silky strands between his fingers. “But I thought a ‘ Crowsfool’ wench would be better learned in the sheets. At least I’ve heard they are. Never had the pleasure of taking one myself.” Keris bit her cheeks, wanting to raise a hand to the king but resisting the urge. If she hit him, she would surely be dead. “Until now,” He let go of her hair and spun on his heel. He ripped open the door and called to Dorina onces more, “Five thousand gold for the white veil.”

“Five?” She peeked past him as Keris gulped. She felt the colour drain from her. She had been prepared to subject herself to an unloving buyer; she could close her eyes and wait for it to be over. Something about the king’s urgency and the anger which had driven him to the sable skirts had her terrified. He could do whatever he wanted and he surely didn’t need to pay coin to do so.

“Ten,” He said flatly, “She’s hardly worth all that.”

“She’s yours, your majesty. I shall leave you--”

“No, she comes with me,” He interrupted, “I prefer my chambers. Come, harlot.”

The king waved over his shoulder but Keris couldn’t move. He continued into the chamber, dropping the key into Dorina’s hand. The Mistress glared at her and crossed to pick up her veil, pulling it back over her face. She hissed another insult under her breath and forced Keris out the door. She knew she didn’t have a choice; this was what she had been dreading but it had turned out so much worse than she could have ever imagined. Perhaps he was going to kill her.

The great red doors were pulled open and he strutted into the corridor, turning to the silvercloak awaiting him. “Make her hurry up, will you? She is walking entirely too slow.”

The burly red-headed guard obeyed without question. He touched the hilt of his sword and grabbed her elbow. “Walk or I’ll give you reason to run.”

She did not dare look back. Leaving the den of sable skirts was hardly a big loss, though she faced a worse fate. She watched the king’s back as she followed him, scurrying to keep with the guard’s pace. It wasn’t until they stopped before a set of oak doors carved with the image of an immense dragon that she noticed how tightly she had balled her skirt in her hands or that she was trembling. She steeled herself, forcing her fingers apart as the doors opened.

The king led Keris inside, the guard shoving her through as she took pause. The door slowly closed behind her, locking her inside alone with Thorin. Her legs couldn’t hold her. They were going to collapse and she would be a puddle on the floor. She willed herself to stay upright, watching as the king headed for a door to her left. He grabbed the handle and looked over his shoulder; his eyes were on fire.

“Well,” He said, “Before I come over and drag you myself.”

Keris gulped and hurried towards him, glad the veil was back in place to hide her dread. He stood back to let her enter first. As she stepped into the next room, a stunning force knocked her off her feet and onto her knees. She barely caught herself before her head met with the stone. The king had smacked her rear so hard that she had tears in her eyes. She heard the door click shut and she was pulled up by the back of her dress.

“Get up,” He released her. She wanted badly to reached back and cradle her sore bottom. Instead she distanced herself from the king and turned so that he could not sneak up on her. “The wine’s in the case,” He pointed towards several glass shelves set into the stone wall. “Grab two glasses. You’ll be needing it.”

The subtle threat made her chest hollow. She gritted her teeth and focused on the wine, taking a bottle from the shelf and two silver goblets from the dozen or so below. The silver clinked as her hand involuntarily shook and she set them before Thorin carefully, placing the bottle beside them.

“Well, do you not know how to pour wine?”

She inhaled deeply and glared at him through her veil. Her hands balled into fists. She wanted badly to pour the bottle over his head. Better yet, to smash it on his skull. Leave him unconscious in his own wine. She grasped the neck of the bottle but did not move to lift it.

“If you’re going to glare at me, it’s best to lose the veil,” He chided, “And better for your aim if you do intend on trying to club me.”

She let out her breath in defeat, loosening her grip and uncorking the bottle. She poured silently, filling only one glass. Wine didn’t seem such a good idea. Maybe it would dull her senses and make it all more tolerable but her gut told her better of it. She set down the bottle and king lifted the glass. He looked at it as if admiring the sheen of the silver and placed it across from him before the other chair at the table. “Sit. Drink. And for Mahal’s sake,” He stood, grabbing her arm as he forced her to obey, “Take this off.” He once more tore off her veil, tossing it into the hearth to burn. He pushed her down onto the chair and edged the goblet closer. “Drink before I pour it down your throat myself.” He sat once more and poured himself a cup.

Keris drank as she watched him over the rim. He seemed to take amusement from her discomfort. “They say it hurts for a dam the first time,” He wiped away a droplet of wine from his lips as he spoke. “They bleed, too. I figure you’ll be wearing a red dress soon enough so I guess it would be appropriate.” Keris couldn’t help but choke on her wine, sputtering as she covered her mouth with her hand. She kept most of it down, though her nostrils burned with alcohol. The king laughed and it stoked her anger. She looked into her glass, half the wine still there. Whatever she did, he was going to make her suffer. She may as well put up her best fight.

She threw out her arm, the wine splashing across the king’s face and down his chest. She stood as she readied for his reaction. He was stunned, silent, sitting as his eyes widened at her. His mouth curled dangerously and he put his palms flat on the table, pushing himself to his feet. He came towards her and she backed away, her skirts tangling between her legs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TRIGGER WARNING

She dodged as he tried to grab her, pulling out her chair to place between them. Thorin ripped it from her grip and seized her by the throat. “You dumb wench,” He lifted her, a hand on her waist and slung her over his shoulder. “This didn’t have to go like this.”

He flipped her onto the bed. She turned over and began crawling to the other side. He caught her foot and dragged her back with one hand. She could hear him unbuckling his belt. She clawed at the covers but they merely gathered under her hands. She kicked her leg, failing to shed the king’s iron grasp. He turned her onto her back, pushing her skirts up as she struggled.

He climbed onto the the bed and she lashed out with her arms, scratching his cheek before he caught her wrists and pinned them over her head. She felt his other hand fumbling lower, her legs held apart between his. He was on top of her, his face just above her. She snapped up at him with her teeth and he pulled away. He released her arms to strike her across the face. She grunted, her head spinning from the force of the blow.

She weakly tried to push him away as she looked down to see what he was doing. She tried to sit up as he pulled his member from his pants and positioned himself before her entrance. He pushed her back down, holding her with his forearm across her chest as the tip of his cock pressed against her lips. She gripped his arm, unable to shift his weight from atop her, begging him to stop.

He looked at her, smirking at her pleas and pushed inside her. The pain radiated from within, up her spine and down her legs. She nearly screamed but stifled it to a sharp whimper. He thrust again and tears were in her eyes. She sniffed and forced them back. She couldn’t cry. She could scream and shout, but she wouldn’t cry in front of him.

Thorin continued to thrust, harder and harder. He removed his forearm, raising himself slightly as he worked against her furiously. His hands closed around her neck as he began to groan. He squeezed tighter and tighter as he buried himself deeper and deeper. Keris’ vision hazed as the pain came duller and duller. Her hands were on Thorin’s but she was too weak to close her fingers around them.

When she was about to pass out, he released her throat and gripped her hips. She was no longer struggling against him but for a breath of air. He rammed into her sharply and she yelped, warmth filling her as he slowed, removing himself from her with a satisfied sigh.

“Take that dress of,” He ordered as he bent to unlace his boots, “Now.”

Keris was shaking so bad she could barely move. She sat up and crawled to the end of the bed. She removed the one slipper remaining to her and slowly reached for her skirts, pulling them up and over her head. She was so weak she could barely think. She could only feel Thorin’s hand around her neck as if it was still there. Her throat burned and she coughed. As she dropped her dress to the floor, she saw the red which had stained the skirts. She reached down to touch herself, her hand coming away with a mixture of blood and another, paler fluid.

She tried to stand and her legs collapsed beneath her. She suddenly had the idea to run. She had stripped herself but it occurred to her to leave before he could do anything worse. Feebly, Keris dragged herself towards the door but made it barely a foot before she was pulled back by her hair. She was lifted by her scalp, exclaiming as Thorin tossed her back onto the bed. He was on her as quickly as before, straddling her as she looked up at him. She flung out with an errant fist and he caught it. She eyed his thick arms, his broad chest; he was much too strong for her.

“The pain is suppose to get better the more you do it,” He mused, reaching below himself to touch her, his finger slipping between her lips and finding her entrance. He pushed inside and wiggled around. “Let’s see if that’s true.”

He inserted another finger, thrusting in and out as she held her breath, pushing helplessly on his chest. He smacked away her hand as he tired of toying with her and once more lined himself up, thrusting into her so hard she swore. She dug her nails into his arms as he cupped her breasts trying to make him stop. He merely chuckled and continued, relishing in her resistance.

“Don’t worry,” He grunted as he leaned closer, “I like it when you fight.”

#thorin oakenshield #dark!thorin oakenshield #dark!thorin #fic #the hobbit #series #au #darkverse #dark!verse #dark!fic #sable skirts #tolkien #oc

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hyphypmic · 5 years

Note

may i request some general matenrou fluff from my insolent child?

Father, you sneaky bastard, I know that’s you. This takes place after they won the division battle. Afterparty time!

“WHY DID YOU DRAG A CROWD WITH US?!???” Doppo was pulling Hifumi along while Jakurai took the back. The mob swamped them immediately after they won the division battle against Mad Trigger Crew. Matenrou was going to slip away quietly, and they were just about to do so when Hifumi could not resist calling out to his kittens.

Even if Doppo clamped a hand on Hifumi’s mouth, he managed to drag that entire crowd and add more to their numbers as they ran through the streets.

So they only managed to grab their bags (which they placed near them while they were battling) before they had to run away.

“What can I say?” Hifumi blew a kiss to the crowd. “The people love me!” He laughed. (Doppo would normally enjoy this laugh, but in this case… he hated it because it just drove the crowd to a frenzy).

Doppo screamed in frustration. “DON’T ENCOURAGE THEM!”

“Hifumi-kun. Doppo-kun.” Jakurai’s voice was loud and level, even if he was panting from running. “Take a left at the stoplight and enter the third building.”

“Ehhhh???” Doppo looked back (and immediately regretted doing so) and saw the crowd was gaining on them. He better not question Jakurai’s orders.

Doppo put more speed and almost skid across the pavement, Hifumi was throwing him off-balance, but Jakurai was able to steady the both of them.

“One.” Doppo counted as he passed the first building. “Two.” Second. “THREE!” He pulled open the doors and practically tossed Hifumi inside. Jakurai followed closely and Doppo slammed the doors shut.

The guards just seemed to realise who had entered and were about to mob them also when they saw the crowd. The two men immediately helped Doppo bar the doors.

“Noooooo!” Hifumi ran to the door and started trying to open it. “Let them in!”

“YOU IDIOT!” Doppo was trying to get rid of Hifumi by pushing him with his left leg. “DON’T LET THEM IN!”

“But my kittens!”

“NO!”

Meanwhile, Jakurai was calmly booking a room with the reception.

If Doppo was paying more attention, he would’ve noticed that they were in an expensive hotel. The lobby was beautifully decorated and the elevator doors were a shining chrome. There was a chandelier suspended over a common seating area with couches, love seats and coffee tables set with various mugs and what not. There were corridors to the left and right leading to the hotel’s restaurants and high-end stores. The staff were all dressed up in suits and formal dresses. Even the bellboys were dressed up.

But of course, the crowd thumping against the doors was his more obvious concern.

“Jakurai-sensei.” The receptionist clicked at her computer while glancing nervously at the crowd. “Congratulations on your victory.”

“Thank you.”

“So let me get this, you want the penthouse suite?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head a bit, like he was ignoring Doppo and Hifumi shouting at each other. He handed over his card. “Just charge everything to there.”

“Uh…” She glanced to the door and the crowd gathered outside. More guards came and helped bar the door. One was even pushing one of those really nice couches to the door. Were those cracks in the glass? Man, those better not be. She looked back at Jakurai who seemed unfazed by the whole thing. “I’ll send your bill and your card up to your room.”

“Could you also get our belongings?” Jakurai requested.

The receptionist looked behind Jakurai to see the scattered bags in the middle of the lobby. (Which by the way is an eyesore, but considering that it was Matenrou booking the room, then it was fine.)

Jakurai nodded. “You can only access the suite if you use the card yes?”

“Yes sir.”

Jakurai looked over at Doppo and Hifumi and froze. Well, he was tuning them out, but he wasn’t aware he was tuning them out that well.

“Doppo! Hifumi!” He called them and the couple swivelled their heads to him.

“Let’s go.”

Doppo, without hesitation, grabbed Hifumi’s arm and dragged him away quickly to the elevators. Jakurai jogged there as Doppo kept hitting the up button on the elevator. “Come on. Come on.” Doppo muttered repeatedly as he kept pulling Hifumi to him. Hifumi was trying to fight against Doppo’s iron grip and go back to the doors.

The elevator doors opened and not a moment to soon, the lobby doors flew open and the crowd started stampeding.

“Inside!” Jakurai pushed the both of them in, tapped the key card, hit the top floor button and pressed close.

For a scary moment, the doors refused to close. Doppo might have been screaming.

The doors slid shut just in time.

—

The elevator opened to the penthouse suite. Doppo’s jaw dropped while Hifumi just jumped on the couch.

“Jakurai-sensei.” Doppo mumbled as he took in the view from the windows. “This…”

“Is good.” Jakurai finished for him. “It’s for the three of us to celebrate. There are two bedrooms, you and Hifumi-kun can take one. I’ll take the other.”

“Eh? Um…” Doppo was speechless. “How-“

“Don’t worry about the cost.” Jakurai now raised an eyebrow at Hifumi who was now at the bar, making drinks from the bottles of alcohol there. “As Shinjuku’s most sought out doctor, I apologise, I’m not bragging, but as that doctor, I can afford to spend for this, if only for a night or two.”

“I…” Doppo swallowed his saliva. He saw the common area where the couches were arranged around a table and faced a large flat screen TV. He took in the chandelier in the centre, the dining table, chairs and other amenities. He could only imagine how the bed and the bathroom looked like.

“Join Hifumi-kun at the bar.” Jakurai clapped his shoulder. “I’ll follow shortly.”

Doppo turned and bowed immediately to Jakurai. “Thank you! I’m so sorry for the trouble! I’m sorry for the crowd, for Hifumi, for my slow pace, for stumbling on the third line of the fifth verse of the rap, I’m sorry for-”

Jakurai laughed and made Doppo stand straight again. “I told you to stop apologising Doppo-kun.” He patted Doppo on the shoulder gently.

“I’m s-“ Doppo rubbed the back of his neck and then walked over to Hifumi.

“Doppo!” Hifumi went around and hugged him. He planted a big kiss on Doppo’s cheek. He gave Doppo such a confident, bright, smile that made Doppo’s insides just melt.

“Don’t forget to say thank you to Jakurai-sensei.” Doppo mumbled through his blush as he pushed Hifumi away from him gently.

Hifumi laughed his rich laugh, “Of course not! I would never forget to thank such a gracious host-“

Doppo blinked and realised that Hifumi was still wearing his suit. As much as he loved Hifumi being that way, he liked Hifumi without the suit better. He’d rather have his too loud and somewhat awkward boyfriend over the confident player.

“Let’s take this off.” Doppo unbuttoned the jacket and slid it off of him. Doppo felt the fabric between his fingers. It was one of his favourite suits, the one with the hidden flowers. He hung it on the chair beside him.

Hifumi blinked.

Doppo also removed the vest and placed them on the counter of the bar. Hifumi blinked again and his eyes locked on Doppo’s. His smile turned tender. He then looked around. “Wow! It’s so nice hereeeee!” He took one of Doppo’s hands and made Doppo twirl him around.

Doppo pulled his hand away and covered his ears. “Idiot. Why are you so loud?!”

Hifumi ignored him and looked over Doppo’s shoulder to see Jakurai approaching them. “Thank you Jakurai-sensei! I promise to treat you out one day again!” Hifumi scurries too behind the bar again. “Can I make you something?”

Doppo visibly tensed as he sat down on one of the chairs. He hoped Hifumi remembered how Jakurai is with alcohol.

“I hope it’s not with alcohol.” Jakurai said and took the seat beside Doppo.

“Oh but it is sensei!” Hifumi exclaimed happily. “It’s one of my favourites at my club!”

Doppo almost grabbed Hifumi by the collar. Doppo signalled him frantically with his eyes.

“It’s really good though.” Hifumi started shaking with the ice shaker, blatantly ignoring Doppo’s eye signals.

“It’s late now Hifumi.” Doppo said a little nervously. “Maybe we could… skip the alcohol-“

“Eh?” Hifumi looked at Doppo as he was pouring the drinks into martini glasses. “Why?”

“I-“ Doppo sighed in defeat. He supposed he was going to blow the bar tonight with Hifumi and Jakurai the uncontrollable drunk.

“Doppo. Hifumi.” Januari said softly. “I just want to thank you for the victory today. You both are very…” He searched for the word. “Different. And it’s good. I suppose that is what made us win over MTC.”

Hifumi served the drinks and Doppo took a sip. He had Hifumi make this for him many times, and the taste never gets old. Especially because Hifumi never makes it the same way twice, except for Doppo of course. Hifumi knows there is a combination of flavours Doppo likes, so naturally that’s also his favourite recipe.

“We would also like to thank you sensei!” Hifumi served Jakurai his drink. Doppo braced for impact. “You were so good today! Thank you for teaching us.”

“Sorry sensei… eh, if we made some mistakes.” Doppo said. “But, we didn’t really expect, eh… I didn’t expect for us to win today.” He bowed slightly. “Thank you.”

“Let’s toast!” Hifumi raised his own glass. “To being the champions!”

Doppo and Jakurai followed suit and clinked their glasses with Hifumi. “Champion!” They all said and drank.

Doppo watched nervously as Jakurai drank his drink. He pulled Hifumi by the tie. “Hifumi.” Doppo growled in his ear. “Did you forget what happens when Jakurai drinks?”

Hifumi chuckled. “Of course not. That one has no alcohol. I just told him there is.” Hifumi slipped out of Doppo’s grip and drank his. He immediately paled. “Oh no.”

“Hifumi?”

“This one is supposed to be Jakurai’s.”

“EH????” Doppo looked over at Jakurai and practically felt the shift.

Jakurai put the glass down hard. “Hifumi!” Jakurai threw back his head and laughed. “That was good! Another!”

“S-s-sensei.” Hifumi looked at Doppo nervously. “I don’t think-“

“Another one Hifumi-kun! We’re the champions tonight!” He embraced Doppo with one arm and then pushed him back, causing Doppo to almost fall to the floor.

“Y-yes sensei!” Hifumi started making another one. “You know.” He said to Doppo. “Maybe it’s okay to let loose now yes?’

Doppo sighed and downed his drink, feeling a good buzz. “Yes, I suppose we can.”

Hifumi kissed Doppo on the cheek and hurriedly made another batch.

—

Well, this was the one time they didn’t regret it in the morning. Of course hotel alcohol is expensive, along with room service, but since they were the champions, the hotel rewarded them by paying for all of it. Apparently the manager is a big fan of Matenrou (and also his wife, his two kids and his grandmother). So, in other words, they didn’t have to pay anything.

This, by Doppo’s standards, is one of the greatest crises averted.

According to Hifumi, best drinking night ever.

For Jakurai, one of his fondest memories (sans the drinking part). He hopes that they’ll be able to make more of these in the future. There was still so much more.

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #jakurai jinguji #hifumi izanami #doppo kannonzaka #matenrou #hypnosis microphone #requests #fluff

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knives-and-lint · 5 years

Text

what’s in a name?

The air crackles with an electricity, everyone time one of the Sisters appear, hairs rising on the back of her neck just before they materialize. Sabrina keeps her focus on the book before her, exams coming up the following Monday, and she is not a all confident in her grasp of ancient runes. Soft footsteps pad their way toward her, as she flips a page, never turning her head to greet the visitor.

“Hello Dorcas,” she offers.

Hands rest atop her shoulders, as a kiss is placed on her cheek.

“Hello Sabrina,” Dorcas replies.

Sabrina sighs, finger resting on a rune she should know, but the answer does not present itself. Growling in frustration, her head falls back, resting against Dorcas' stomach.

“I take it your studies are not going well?” she inquires.

Sabrina groans.

“Why can't we learn Spanish, or French, or some other practical language of the world? Why does witchcraft thrive almost exclusively in dead dialects?”

Dorcas grins, one of her hands lifting to run through Sabrina's hair.

“How can they be dead, if we still use them?”

Sabrina glares, though no animosity shines in her eyes.

“Answering a question with a question, is not really helping.”

Dorcas' grin turns to a wicked smile.

“Am I meant to be helping?”

Sabrina's brow lifts curiously.

“Why else would you have come?”

Dorcas' fingers still in Sabrina's hair, as she leans down to press a kiss against her forehead.

“I didn't plan on visiting,” she confesses. “We were in the dorm, Prudence, Agatha and I. Going over our own texts. And though I knew you wanted some time alone to concentrate, I couldn't help to wonder how you were getting along. Next thing I know, I'm here.”

Sabrina smiles at the answer.

“Oh Dorky,” she teases. “You really can't stand to be apart from me, can you?”

Dorcas frowns at the name.

“That does not sound like something I want to be called.”

Sabrina takes one of the hands on her shoulders, pulls it to her lips, and presses a kiss against it.

“It's a term of affection,” she insists. “I assure you.”

Dorcas' eyes flutter closed.

“Affection,” she repeats.

Sabrina rises from the chair, turns and embraces her properly.

“Dorky,” Sabrina reiterates, tilting her head up for a kiss. “My Dorky.”

Dorcas' arms go around Sabrina's neck.

“Never call me that in front of our Sisters.”

Sabrina smiles.

“Deal.”

It's pitch black, and Sabrina has no idea which way to go, wandering around blind with her arms held out before her. Wondering what big bad it is this time, wanting to destroy her and all she holds dear. Sleep demon? Ghost with a grudge? Rival coven looking for revenge?

She walks slowly on unsure steps, this endless void so disorienting, with no direction forthcoming. Not even sure which way is up or down. Time doesn't seem to be a factor either. It feels as if she's been wandering forever, but it may as well been five minutes.

“Lux,” she whispers, curling her hand to hold onto the energy. “Lux,” again when nothing forms in her palm.

“That's not going to work,” a voice calls. From where she can't pinpoint, but it's welcome and familiar.

“Agatha?” she calls into the dark, arm waving wildly trying to make contact. “Is that-”

“Yes,” she assures. “It's me.”

Sabrina doesn't bother to ask the unnecessary question as to where she is in this madness, but she still keeps her arms outstretched, just in case.

“Why won't it work?” she asks.

The answer seems to take forever, time a factor yet again.

“Because this isn't darkness,” Agatha finally replies. “It's a void of light.”

Sabrina doesn't understand.

“What does that mean?”

Another long pause.

“It means any and all light is absorbed,” she answers. “Not just absent. You try to create it, and it will vanish before you do.”

“How?”

“Because not matter how fast light is, darkness is always there first, waiting for it.”

How philosophical, Sabrina muses. But it also makes her wonder.

“Agatha?”

Yet another pause.

“Yes?”

“Do you know what this is?”

Sabrina counts the seconds, gets nearly to thirteen when-

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

Sabrina reaches around again, hoping to come in contact with her, laughing in relief when her hand is taken with another.

“My melancholia,” she answers. “It creeps its way inside at times. I am helpless against it.”

Sabrina pulls on that hand until a body presses against hers, turning her head against Agatha's chest, she listens to the beat of her heart.

“What can I do?” she asks.

Sabrina feels Agatha's hand cup the back of her head.

“You're already doing it,” she replies.

Sabrina smiles against her.

“How long with it last?”

Agatha sighs.

“Thirteen minutes.”

Sabrina's eyes widen with the realization, the exact time Agatha was dead by her hand. The tears form before she can help it, her hold on the girl tightening with the guilt.

“I'm sorry,” she offers quietly. “Aggie, I'm so sorry.”

Agatha neither accepts nor denies the apology, just holds her in the dark.

“Trying something new?” Agatha inquires.

“What?”

“I haven't been called that since I was a child.”

“Oh,” Sabrina accepts. “Term of endearment. I was just-”

“It's sweet,” Agatha gives. “Like you.”

The endless black seems to be fading, light slowly working its way back into the world, Sabrina realizing they're in the graveyard just outside her house. She's about to apologize again, when Agatha cuts her off with a kiss, forgiven but not forgotten.

With Prudence it's not a conscious decision. A planned pet name, or expression of love, when the three little words are expressly forbidden between them. It comes naturally, because the first syllable of her name is all Sabrina can ever manage to express, between kisses that leave her breathless.

“Pru,” she manages as Prudence slips a hand around her bare leg just under the hem of her skirt.

“Pru,” when ravaged against a wall of a hidden corner, footsteps of fellow students walking by none the wiser.

It's not as if Prudence takes notice, on a surface level anyway, always concentrating on the task at hand. The goal being Sabrina making sounds she's never made before, like music to her ears. Sabrina, however, does note that Prudence reacts every time she lets those three letters slip past her lips.

Fuel to the fire, as it were.

So Sabrina begins addressing her as such in the most inopportune moments. Whenever she leaves their table in the dining hall, off to a class not shared with her or the Sisters, saying goodbye to Agatha and Dorcas but always leaning close to Prudence's ear. Smirking with delight at the way her grip suddenly tightens on whichever utensil happens to be in had.

Whenever she happens to be speaking with Father Blackwood, Sabrina will waltz on over, and greet her in the shortened way while the High Priest looks between them as if he simply will never understand teenage girls. Or when she goes home for the weekend, kissing each of the Sisters cheeks before parting, taking extra care to linger on Prudence.

“You think you're so clever,” she hisses, grip tightening on Sabrina's waist. “Winding me up every time you depart.”

Sabrina grins in reply, liking when she's wound, the unraveling always something to look forward to.

“Why,” she begins, teasing her fingers along Prudence's lips. “Whatever do you mean?”

Prudence's eyes flare with the denial, mouth curling into a challenging sneer.

“I will make you pay for such insolence.”

Sabrina leans in for a kiss.

“Oh Pru,” she taunts. “Promises, promises.”

#caos #spellnight #weirdspell #sabrina and the weird sisters #drabble

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mylatesttrending-blog · 5 years

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2020 BMW M5 Competition First Drive Review | It's a mad mad mad mad sedan

MONTICELLO, New York –– The M5 Competition needs a better name. The “Hammer” has been done. C’mon, Dodge has its colorful Hellcats and Demons. Yes, BMW is a sober German luxury brand, but appending “Competition” to the name and decklid of the standard M5 is too subtle for a midsize sedan that can nip a 647-hp Ford GT supercar to 60 mph (BMW says it’ll do the deed in 3.1 seconds, but Car and Driver timed a regular M5 at 2.8 seconds, so it’s almost assured that it’ll beat the GT’s 3 second time. – Ed.), and its claimed 10.9-second quarter-mile is just 0.1 seconds behind the Ford, or the 797-hp Dodge Challenger Hellcat Redeye. That’s madness, or in German, Der Wahnsinn. (Hey, maybe that’s the name!) The M5 Competition’s 617 horsepower (17 more than the M5) and 553 pound-feet of torque is equally Wahnsinn, as I discover during laps at my local stomping grounds, the Monticello Motor Club in New York’s Catskills. To the untrained eye, this M5 might be any other 5 Series, that longtime upholder of the luxury sedan status quo. Trained eyes will spot that Competition badging – optional on front fenders, in case you’d prefer to stay stealthy – with higher-volume air intakes and gloss black applied to the kidney grille, mirror caps, fender gills, rear Gurney lip and apron diffuser. There are also 20-inch lightweight forged alloys and four black-tipped exhaust outlets. After multiple stairsteps in power and price from your basic 530i – from $54,395 and a 248-hp turbo four, to $110,995 and a 4.4-liter, twin-turbo V8 – the M5 Competition helps advance the (somewhat pointless) arms race in sport sedans, provoking both the 603-hp Mercedes-AMG E 63 S, and the 605-hp Audi RS7 Performance.

The last time I drove the standard M5, I was staging an Escape from New York when a wheel was mangled by an evil pothole on Manhattan’s West Side Highway. Day trip, spoiled. This time, I was determined to make it to Monticello in one piece, because this baby is even stiffer: Springs and hydraulic dampers are 10 percent firmer than the regular M5’s, the rear anti-roll bar is stiffened, and it’s 0.28 inches lower. For better wheel guidance at the rear, the toe link’s rubber mounts are exchanged for ball joints. BMW says the tauter core can be felt even in the car’s Comfort mode, and the morning’s jouncy run on the ancient, hand-cut Belgian blocks of my Brooklyn street seems to confirm it. The M5 makes its entrance through Monticello’s artistically wrought metal gates, flashing an equally classy paint called Donington Grey Metallic. I sign the clipboard sheet proffered by the guard, peering through the BMW’s generous windshield at the rain-dampened 4.1-mile circuit. I’ve enjoyed the adjustable embrace of the BMW’s sport seats, clad in handsome saddle-colored “Aragon” Merino hides. Here, evidence of the M division’s handiwork is subtle, including red-and-blue striped M seatbelts. Round digital gauges flash concentric rings of animation as you approach the 7,000 RPM redline. This more driver-centric M5 sports digital gauges that are an homage to classic, analog BMW dials, which I prefer to the wraparound displays of the “Live Cockpit Professional” that makes its 5 Series debut on the 2020 M5 35 Years Edition. I ease into the paddock and clubhouse garage, where track-suited club members are futzing with roll-caged, race-prepped exotics. One or two seem to cast side-eye at the BMW and its pilot, perhaps wondering why anyone would take this 4,370-pound, all-wheel-drive barge onto the track. Some will soon pay for their insolence, when the BMW applies its unfair horsepower advantage to leave peashooter Porsches in its 617-hp wake. Like the M5, the Competition’s other secret weapon is an M-tuned AWD system and active rear differential, which together banish old-school wheelspin, seemingly no matter how hard you try to break things loose.

The track is still drying when I’m first waved out of the pits, with scary-looking lagoons lurking in places. For all its fierceness and technology, the BMW feels a bit squishy and vague at first, especially in the wet. But AWD is the new secret sauce of any new M5. For max performance in any situation, just set-and-forget the 4WD Sport mode, which sends more torque rearward and applies a freer algorithm to stability systems. After years of testing M cars, I’ve made peace with their somewhat fussy controls that here include individual settings for the steering, suspension, exhaust and eight-speed, dual-clutch transmission. Twiddling has become easier since BMW added two ruby-colored steering wheel switches – labeled M1 and M2 – to store a pair of your preferred combinations of settings. For the suspension, I select the Sport mode that BMW perfected for Nürburgring’s pockmarked Nordschleife circuit. The company recommends Sport Plus for creamier, Grand Prix-style surfaces. Compared to the M5, the Competition also gets a firmer link to the aluminum-and-carbon structure through engine mounts with increased spring rates, which BMW says creates faster engine response and sharper corner turn-in. Um, if you say so. Increased camber for the front axle does help this big barge absorb lateral forces through its Pirelli P Zero PZ4 tires. That’s a good thing in tight sections like the esses that zig uphill just after MMC’s longest straight. As for that mildly kinked, mile-long gauntlet – which I’ve long used as a no-excuses benchmark for accelerative might – the M5’s bombastic power rockets it to around 159 mph, only about 11 or 12 mph less than my apogee in supercars like the McLaren 675LT or Ferrari 488. So yeah, it’s fast. Peak torque is served anywhere between 1,800 and 5,800 rpm, a 200-rpm wider band than the M5. The BMW’s gold-caliper, carbon ceramic brakes, an $8,500 option, help keep fade at bay, even at these Autobahn speeds – though they do begin to smell (but not smoke) after seven or eight consecutive laps.

Chris Duplessis, the former pro rally champion and all-purpose nutjob who’s MMC’s track director, has coincidentally been driving an M5 as a safety car. I let Duplessis take one of his usual half-sideways excursions around the circuit, and he concurs: The Competition perhaps feels a skosh tauter than the basic M5, and turns with more alertness, but it would take a back-to-back drive to tease out tangible differences. Aside from this Competition’s stony ride on poor pavement, and the Sturm und Drang as it boomed over freeway expansion strips, my only everyday gripe was a climate system that was stingy about dialing up the fan speed, even when I set the A/C to extremely low temperatures. Some drivers have groused that the standard M5 sounds too demure, and the Competition does amp up the soundtrack through its twin-pipe, flap-controlled exhaust. Hit the console’s exhaust switch, and the BMW speaks softly without dropping its big stick. Press it again, and this M5 sounds like a pissed-off bear that’s been woken from hibernation, including belching exhaust backfires. This M5 still doesn’t match the psychotic bellow of the Mercedes-AMG E 63, but it’s plenty aggressive for all but the most attention-seeking owner. So is the BMW fun on track? Yes, in a mildly silly, tiger-shark-out-of-water fashion. But it’s twice as fun on the street, where the M5 Competition underscores its Autobahn-style ferocity and magisterial handling. Mopar fans may howl, but in most street situations, the M5 Competition will easily smoke even a Dodge Challenger Hellcat from a stoplight – minus the smoke. Where even skilled drivers can struggle to launch the rear-driven Hellcat without the tires lighting up like Cheech and Chong, the BMW sends every molecule of rubber and scrap of torque to the pavement.

So, what’s it gonna cost? At $110,995, the Competition is an extra $7,300 over the base M5. Options, including the pricey carbon-ceramic stoppers, boosted my test car’s freight to a heady $132,095. Departing Monticello, I briefly switch into the car’s notorious, tire-abusing 2WD mode, the one that seems designed to stem the kvetching of BMW fans over the brand’s Good Old Days. For a minute or three, it is fun to drive the BMW like it’s a Dodge, only with exponentially more agility and control, exiting corners with smoke flaring from those poor Pirellis. The only dumb part is that you have to switch off stability control entirely to send all 617 horses to the back – with only modestly wide 285/35 R20 tires – which will at least make one appreciate the stability control's safety net even more. But catapulted along Cold Spring Road near the track, a ribbony dream that twists through tall stands of pine and spruce, the M5 Competition is just an embarrassment of riches: Drive it harder, then harder still. The BMW’s sick thrust and limitless confidence finally sucks the air from my lungs. Der Wahnsinn, indeed. Sedan madness, German-style. Read the full article

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nethwan · 5 years

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Yellow and Red

Chapter 1: Yellow Tulip

Summary: Mei will meet, who she’ll think, is the most obnoxious man on earth: Lars Janssen. The feeling will be mutual. Lars will thought that Mei is such an insolent and rude woman. However, her eyes and her smile won’t be easy to forget.

Note: This fic only has 2 chapters, so it will be updated soon. Also, this is a rewritten story, from one I already post, but I wasn’t satisfied with the result. This is also a Modern Pride and Prejudice AU. Yellow tulips have a lot of meanings, but I chose the “unrequited love” because it fits the story.