#And of course he wears it correctly! Buttons down the collar for the first time since it started existing lol

[sysig]

And second request, would you please draw a Narrator/Stanley outfit swap, because I stated thinking of them dressing up as each other for Halloween/just for fun and think it sounds neat!

Day 26 - Leave the sleeve up, leave it alone!

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it.  you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

                                    You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.  

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though.  After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all?  Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared).  He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did.  Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered.  The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed.  You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him.  You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him.  Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around.  You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention.  If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers.  With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk.  Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter.  “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded.  By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous.  Idiotic.  A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you.  “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged.  “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing?  “Thank you.  I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.  

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense.  But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?”  His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious.  “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him.  He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression.  His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.  

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore.  “I’m here, aren’t I?  Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that?  I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me.  It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm.  “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium.  Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.  

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.  

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course.  And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.  “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar.  “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time.  You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there.  Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.  

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.  

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen.  And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds.  You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit.  All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.  

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything.  The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.  

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex.  As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd.  Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway.  It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.  

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted.  “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were.  But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck.  “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear.  “Can you do that for me?  Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped.  “I can take it!  Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head.  “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on?  Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers.  You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you.  Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.  

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly.  You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point.  "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly.  He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.  

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air.  He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive.  The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed.  He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss.  Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him.  Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing.  His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately.  "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.”  It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.  But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear.  You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly.  "Oh, you like that idea, hm?  You want to be full of my come?  Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast.  You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated.  As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade.  Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks.  No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair.  It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks.  If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.  

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry.  I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed.  He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye.  “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.  

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss.  And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again.  He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss.  Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss?  But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class?  Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it?  And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios.  You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him.  And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now.  The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class.  As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options.  There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself.  Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable.  Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned.  "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk.  Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.�� He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was.  “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed.  “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice.  You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly.  “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed.  “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly.  "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours.  And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel.  “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed.  "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again.  "A man can only take so much.  I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked.  "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist.  Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod.  It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag.  “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened.  Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded.  “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.”  He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips.  “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs.  “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair.  He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit.  Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up.  He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way.  I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed.  "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear.  "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.  

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me.  Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

[issamhysa]

The Other Shirt

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning(s): N/A, I think?

Summary: Spencer’s having a hard time figuring out what to wear, Derek is tired and reader is whipped.

A/N: Gonna be honest, I don’t love this ending. But I was watching The Finest Hours and this ONE (1) line stuck out to me, so I thought it’d be cute. 

“Are you absolutely sure I should go with this one?”

Derek had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes at his friend’s antics. He had been sitting on Spencer’s couch for the past two hours, watching him go from shirt to shirt and panic every time he saw himself in the mirror.

He loved Spencer, there was absolutely no doubt about that. But frankly, he was two shirts away from slapping the genius upside the head.

“Look, kid,” he sighed, pushing himself up off the couch and walking over to Spencer, clasping both hands on his shoulders to stop the rambling before it even began. “How long have you known Y/N for?” He asked.

“Five months, twelve days, five hours and-”

“Five months, Reid. You’ve been talking to her for five months. And you’ve been in love with her for longer than I know you’ll admit. I’m pretty sure she won’t care what shirt you wear tonight, alright? The girl really likes you,” he reassured the profiler before him, nodding his head. “Trust me, all she wants is to spend time with you, and the last thing she’ll be doing is worrying about your choice in shirts.”

“But what if-”

“Nope. No buts, pretty boy. It’s your first date, you look great, end of story.” Derek said, leaving no space for Spencer to argue before he shoved the cardigan he had picked out into his arms. “I’ll be waiting in the car. If you’re not down there in five minutes, I’m dragging you out by the ear.”

Spencer nodded stiffly, letting out a small sigh and as Derek left the apartment, pulling the door closed behind him with a gentle click.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

He dropped the chunky cardigan onto the couch and turned to the mirror, staring at his reflection in silence for a few seconds.

Derek was right. He had known you for a few months now, and he was certain you liked him as much as you did him, if your body language was anything to go by.

Which… it was, obviously. He was a profiler, it was his job to be able to tell, wasn’t it?

Tugging at the collar of his shirt to adjust it and making sure all the buttons were buttoned correctly, Spencer took a deep breath, combing his fingers through his hair. Finally releasing the breath he had been holding in, he snatched his cardigan back off the couch and left his apartment.

After a short car ride, he and Derek were now sitting outside the restaurant in Derek’s car, which he had parked and shut off to give Spencer a minute to compose himself.

And, of course, a little pep talk.

However, less than halfway into his talk, he realized Spencer wasn’t listening; no, his eyes were glued to the pretty girl sitting by the window inside the restaurant, stroking the spine of the book she held in her hand.

“Maybe I should’ve worn the other shirt…” Spencer murmured, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of the black button-up shirt he had decided to go with.

You looked so beautiful, but had he underdressed? Would it be enough to impress you?

“Kid, you look fine- hey!” Derek’s hand on Spencer’s shoulder brought him out of his daze with a start, causing him to look up. “She’ll love you.”

“Yeah…” Spencer said with uncertainty, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. His gaze shifted from Derek, back to you to see you were now toying with a strand of your hair with the book sitting open in front of you, your lips parted. Slowly, his lips curved into a smile.

God, you were perfect.

“Yeah,” he nodded, reaching into his messenger bag and rubbing his thumb along the spine of the book he had gotten you from the book store a few nights ago. 

Based on your conversations on Greek poems and mythology, Spencer thought you would enjoy it. Plus, The Odyssey was definitely one of his personal favorites.

“Atta boy. Now, go get her,” Derek chuckled, giving the young genius a playful nudge. Spencer stepped out of the car, holding his head up higher than he had when he had first gotten in. With the book clutched in his hand, he looked back towards Morgan, who gave him a thumbs up and a nod.

Shutting the door, Spencer reached up to fix his hair, but stopped himself before he could. 

Relax. You’ll be fine.

Swallowing thickly, he walked into the restaurant, allowing the waitress to guide him to his seat.

You looked up as he approached, tugging the book off the table and onto your lap before Spencer could see it. Smiling brightly up at him as he sat down, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Spence, hi!” You greeted.

“Hey, Y/N.” Spencer’s heart fluttered, and he found himself immediately relaxing in his seat, your presence alone being enough to calm him. “You look beautiful,” he said, his hands fiddling with the cream satin bow he had tied around the book in his lap.

“Oh, thank you. You’re also looking incredibly handsome tonight. Well, not that you don’t always look handsome tonight, you know? I just meant... as usual.”

Spencer’s soft laugh stopped you before you had the chance to finish your rambling, and he shook his head with a sincere smile. “Thank you, Y/N,” he answered, causing you to visibly relax in your seat.

“And I like your shirt, by the way. It looks really good on you,” you said, leaning forward and crossing your arms over the table. The way your beautiful eyes trailed over Spencer’s body would’ve normally made him shiver, but instead, he straightened up with a small burst of confidence. “Black suits you.”

And just like that, the confidence was gone, replaced by his usual bashfulness.

He bowed his head, cheeks flaring up at the compliment. Spencer smiled to himself, making a point to turn his head slightly to look out the window, where Derek was still sitting in his car, giving him a thumbs up with one hand and holding up his phone with the other.

With a subtle shake of his head and a light chuckle, he looked back up at you and thanked you.

All things considered, Spencer decided Derek had been right about two things.

One, the shirt was, in fact, fine.

And two, he was desperately in love with the girl with the pretty eyes sitting across from him.

[jenniferstolzer]

If you were in charge of being a costume design for Disney’s beauty and the beast revival on broadway how would you bring life to the characters (especially the enchanted objects) what ideas could you used?

What an interesting thought experiment! I first saw Beauty and the Beast as a child at the Muny in St. Louis and even back then I really adored the costuming of the enchanted objects. They were my favorite characters in the movie and Lumiere’s look especially really spoke to my own costuming/design aesthetic.  

In general I adore the philosophy going on here. These people are human in an in-between stage of becoming objects with the implication that it’s happening gradually (almost naturally) over the course of many years and taken over each person almost like a parasite. For example, each character still looks like they’re wearing the uniform of their station, but the curse has latched onto those garments and claimed them as their own. More than that, it’s eaten through to the flesh and stolen from each character at least one function of their physical bodies -- Lumiere has lost use of his hands, Mrs. Potts has lost one arm. Cogsworth can no longer bend at the waist, etc. With the exception of poor Chip who is now just a head (holy god) they are still able to live their lives in the palace largely as they had been but with the constant daily reminder of what the Curse is doing to them.  Let’s take Lumiere for example (and this is where I’ll delve into what I would do and how my personal aesthetic is tickled by these designs) 

I have a deep attraction to the inherent horror of the human body being consumed and transformed by something foreign (cough @threadcaster cough cough) So I would take on the Beauty and the Beast costuming in a more horror direction. First thing, I’d give the curse itself a bit of a motive. The Lumiere example:

Look at this man. Like how perfect is this look? He’s the Matre’d, he’s the evening’s entertainment, he’s the first face a guest would see at a palace gala and you can tell. He’s becoming a candelabra for that reason as well, he’s the host who focuses attention and draws people in. I love the gold accents on hsi coat and shoes have started to encroach on him... take more than what they’re owed, invade what makes him “him.” The hands and head candles are the obvious part but his buttons are claiming real-estate, the embroidered details on his coat are gaining ground in the war to subdue him. He probably didn’t even notice at first that the gold thread of his cuffs were bleeding, that his rings and charms had fused to his skin, that his wig was getting waxy... the curse is impeding him and changing him the same way age steals your functions a little bit at a time.

We come back from intermission and it’s progressed even further. The filigree ahs climbed all the way up his coat and bridged the gap from his shoes to his breeches. The cuffes have dripped and pooled onto his shoulder to show how much he’s kept his arms in the “candelabra” position, likely without even realizing it. It can now influence how he moves, how he behaves, how he works. They’re becoming one entity... trading bite for bite the flesh of the man for the metal of the object. Like that’s great visual storytelling! And this isn’t even the most dramatic second act transformation of this character. In the version I saw as a child, he was practically a Starlight Express character in act 2. If I remember correctly I think he even had his legs locked together. What a Cronenbergian horror show we’re witnessing here? 

And if it were up to me... I’d take it one further. The act 1 look is spot on, I’d change very little, but the act 2 look I’d take in a very dark direction. See diagram below

Obviously the actor would still have a face, bear with me. 

So Act 1 Lumiere is largely unchangd. I’d add a high collar of gold to give the illustion of restriction while staying flexible enough to let the actor “Be Our Guest” without discomfort. The gold encroachments would be a mix of fabric, paint, and flexible appliance for 3D elements. The spot at his sash especially would have a hard portion with some projection so that the audience could see that it was supposed to be metal. I’d continue the gold like veins down his arms and up his pants, extending from actual buttons, buckles, or cuff designs to give the infection a point of origin. When we hit Act 2 we’ve hit “The Thing” territory with this. The metal elements are now choking his joints and restricting him (while being made of a thick fabric or light rubber or something that allows for a wide range of movement that the actor’s body language would make look more restrictive. I don’t want to give the actor a claustrophobic panic attack in this thing) I’d remove hints of his ankles and skin, painting his face to look like his flesh has become wax and cover his eyebrows or paint them gold if that doesn’t read well from the balcony. Bits of the blue (or whatever color his Act 1 costume is) will peek through at slashes where the gold is thinnest, but the gold would overall take on a very organic almost viney look to imply growth as the man is being surounded and consumed by the curse.

The other objects would get similar treatment with Cogsworth becoming wooden, Mrs. Potts becoming porcelain with cracks at her shoulders and elbows, the imagination flourishes. But basically I hope that answers the question. It was a fun thought experiment and got really long >< It stirred up my creative juices so thanks very much for asking!

PS if you’re curious about Threadcaster (my fantasy novel about curses that slowly turn innocent children into earth, wind, water, or fire and the girl with magic string who takes a journey to stop this) it’s still on Covid sale over on amazon. 

[funkwhistle]

Barbie Bell

Pairing: Micah Bell x GN!reader

Notes: Micah needs a new shirt and struggles to find a new one - my contribution to Barbie Bell :)

(photo is mine - don’t reupload without credit :)) & this is my last Micah photo I’ve been too lazy to upload them atm XD

Micah had been expecting a parcel for weeks now, from the tailor in Blackwater. His old red shirt, the well-loved one he wore all the time, had finally worn too thin, showing everything under it and was irreversibly stained with blood. Even Miss Grimshaw, under Micah's pleading looks, had tried to scrub it clean, but after wearing it for months he'd decided to order a new one. 

Micah being Micah, he obviously couldn't do anything by halves; no he wanted the exact shirt again, so you and him went hunting around the local tailors trying to find a replacement. But wherever you went he'd find something wrong with an alternative.

“Can't you see, these buttons aren't good enough-”

“No, no, this is not the right red,”

“It's too long and my old one had a nicer collar,” 

You'd even taken the train over to Strawberry to check the general store there, in a last ditch attempt to find it. But whichever tailor you had asked, they all said they didn't have an exact copy of it, yet Micah was adamant he'd find one. While you knew if you told him where he'd be able to find it, he'd run over there, unfortunately the large bounty on his head stopped him from returning from the Blackwater tailors alive. 

So, he'd opted for ordering it, as you often did with your clothes; you hated nothing more than sitting in a tailor, you'd rather have to stitch it to fit you instead. A few weeks ago, the both of you sat by the campfire, measuring him correctly and writing a letter to the Blackwater tailor, signed as a certain Mr Kilgore. When you first went to run one of the tape measures the girls used for sewing across the back of his shoulder, he had tensed up, saying he could guess well enough until Susan yelled across camp that he was an idiot, and suddenly, he didn't mind it, intimidated by the older woman. 

You'd never seen Micah so excited, once the letter had been posted he was positively beaming, buzzing about the prospect of his new shirt. The pair of you had said it needed to be red, and attached an old photo of him wearing the shirt for reference, reassuring him that the tailor just needed to see the style of the shirt, it wouldn't matter if it faded. Once you'd exited the post office, Micah looped his hand in yours, something he never did, walking back through Saint Denis with an unusual skip in his step; even going as far as to buy the both of your food in the salon. 

And here it was, he'd been avidly visiting the post office for weeks since the tailor replied he'd do his best, becoming a nuisance to the station clerk. It was wrapped carefully in brown paper, and you had to stop him from ripping it open in the station itself, he was far too excited. Micah was fidgeting the entire ride back to camp, knowing he would want to try it on right away, so you kept it on your lap, swatting his hands away as you rode. 

“Right, go open it then,” you said when you got to camp, passing him the parcel carefully. His face lit up, and he snatched the parcel from you, disappearing into the house to get changed. 

Micah took a while to change, you anticipated he'd be out quickly, happy with the new shirt, but he didn't; and after nearly twenty minutes you knocked tentatively on the room he was changing in. 

“You alright in there?” you asked, creaking open the door a little to look at him. He was stood on the opposite side of the room, no shirt on, looking down at the opened package on the floor in front of him as he read a note. Hesitantly, you entered the room, shutting the door behind you and walking over to him. As you approached, he looked up at you, looking deflated and upset about something, and you didn't have the chance to look at the contents of the package before he'd pulled you to him and buried his head in the crook of your neck. 

Wrapping your arms comfortingly around him, you hushed him, feeling the side of your neck getting damp from his silent tears of disappointment. Wondering what was so bad, you looked over his shoulder, shuffling, so you could see the ripped parcel on the floor. Spilling out of it was a hot pink shirt, nothing like the red he'd tried to describe. While he was upset, you couldn't contain your laughter, knowing his childish excitement about what it would look like. 

“'m being stupid ain't I?” he said, moving out of your embrace and wiping the tears from his eyes when he saw you looking at him. You shook your head briefly in reassurance. 

“What did the note say?” you asked, reaching to try to grab it from his hands.

“They didn't do the red no more, so he sent the next best. 'm sorry darlin, it's not like me-” he rambled, showing you the note. Clear as day, the tailor had written his apologies, and had given Micah a small discount on the price, and yet Micah — the feared outlaw — was stood here, tears trickling from the corners of his eyes in disappointment. 

“How about ya try it? Can't be that bad, right?” you said, pulling it from the wrapping and holding it up to him. Smiling weakly, he took in from you, pulling it on while you watched. 

You felt awful for him, this was all he'd spoken about for weeks now, and, like a child, had been devastated when it had not lived up to his expectations. And of course, you were sympathetic, but also you'd tried to warn him not to get his hopes up, that nothing is ever perfect, and yet he chose to ignore you still. His hands were almost at the final button, having to take breaks to wipe his eyes or blow his nose.

Once it was on, you stood back and admired hm for a moment. You knew he wouldn't like it, but you thought the pink suited him well, bringing out the life in his cheeks and making his hair seem that little blonder. 

“Well?” you asked, indicating for him to spin. 

“It ain't what I wanted-” he started, spinning willingly for you.

“-but?” you probed further, approaching him and straightening the shirt for him.

“I ain't mad at it,” he shrugged, pressing a light kiss on your forehead. “You reckon the gang'll laugh?” It was your turn to shrug, smiling a little at his concerned look.

“If they do, then they do, nothing you can do 'bout it,” you said, moving closer to him. “But I-” you pressed a kiss on his collarbone, “-think you look-” a kiss placed on his jaw, “goddamed handsome Mr Bell,” a kiss on his lips, which he deepened immediately, grinning madly into the kiss.

“You really think so?” he sounded doubtful as he leant his forehead on yours as your hands ran themselves through the clean fabric. 

“I know so Micah,” you said, “Now shut up and kiss me again,”

Micah was only too happy to oblige, grabbing you by your waist and bruising your lips onto his, making you squeal slightly in shock, not that you were complaining. 

He wore the shirt around camp nearly as much as his old red one, and sure, at first, there had been teasing, asking if he was in fancy dress, but eventually the gang got used to it. In fact, you caught Lenny wearing pink socks a few weeks later, and Hosea began to favour pinker neck ties. And Micah, confiding this in complete secrecy to you, had said he had considered ordering another one, he loved the colour so much. Nothing had made you happier than the first time you saw him wear the shirt on a job, even if it did come back stained again, just the fact that he'd put in the effort because he knew you liked the shirt was enough. 

A/N: Well I shocked myself for getting this done I was not expecting to - let me know if the spelling is off bc guess who proof read vv fast. 

@mallr4ts​ @mister-dude​

[cedric-stories]

The Ball (Cedric x reader)

Word count: Around 1,700

warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, and idk, they kiss? LOL

Reader pronouns: he/him

Plot: You just got hired to work as a waiter in the castle. (I’m crap at summaries, lol)

Author’s note: This was a request from @pap3r-fl0w3rs . It was my first request ever and I about fell out of my chair when you gave it to me, lol! Thank you so much for asking! I enjoyed writing this so much (even if it took forever for me to finish it, lol). Hope y’all enjoy it!!

The Ball

You were so excited. It’s the first day of your new job at the castle. You had seen an ad in the paper by chance about a waitering job. You didn’t ever think you’d actually get it, but next thing you knew, Baileywick was giving you an interview for the position. It had been a rough few days though. You had to move all your stuff up to the castle by noon yesterday. You were unpacking till 3am. Even though you were sleepy, it was worth getting the extra things done before getting started on your real job.

Orientation started at 8am and lasted till 5pm. Yes, 9 hours of sitting in a plastic chair listening to a gray old man rant about policies was tiring. The only good thing that came out of it was meeting a new friend.

“Hey, can I sit here?” A blond, slender young man asked. He had his arms crossed and looked rather uncomfortable.

“Of course,” you grinned, trying to seem as friendly as possible, “I’d love to have the company.”

He sat down quickly. “Thanks,” he paused then leaned in next to you. “Are you nervous?” he whispered.

“Oh yeah. I’m shaking,” You laughed, lifted your arm up to show him.

He looked comforted by your agreement.

“Yeah. So, what’s your name?”

“I’m y/n, what about you?”

“I’m Tyler, I came from the village.”

“So did I! Where at?”

You two continued talking till the lecture started. After, you walked out into the ball room to begin setting up.

Forks, napkins, plates, and tablecloths were flying everywhere. It was a race against the clock to get everything ready for the big night. Before the actual event started, you had to get changed into something more formal.

           Running back to your room, you ripped open your wardrobe to find an outfit. The castle staff had certain clothes you were able to wear for formal events, and since this was going to be one of the biggest balls of the year, you had to follow this exactly. Grabbing your newly ironed, black pants, you slipped them on along with your white button up shirt. You ran your belt through the loops and slapped on your suspenders. You were about to run out the door when you remembered your bow. Grabbing it out of your drawer, you snapped a raven black bow around your neck, fixed your collar, and ran for it.

           When you got back to the ballroom hall, you took a left into the employee doors. Fixing your hair, you tried steadying your breath and walked into the kitchen, trying not to appear too winded.

           “Once the royal sorcerer sets off the ceremonial fireworks, we will begin serving drinks. We will not start bringing out food of any sort until 11pm. Alright, let’s get ready.” The manager of the serving staff shouted over the clanking of pots and pans.

…

“Everyone, I’d like to thank you for being here,” The King began, standing on the golden ballroom stage.

Your heart was wildly pounding. This was it. This was your big chance to impress the King and staff by how well and efficient you could work. You could actually learn to love this job and living in Enchantcia’s castle would just be the cherry on top. Roland continued on and you were zoned out until you heard the word ‘fireworks.

           “My wonderful royal sorcerer, son of Goodwyn the Great and Winnifred the Wise, also known as Cedric the Sensational, will be lighting the ceremonial fireworks with magic this year.”

           As the crowd cheered, you saw a figure stepping out behind the curtain. He was average height and had dark hair. You could see he was wearing a long, plum robe with a large, floppy bowtie. His light bangs swayed as he walked up to center stage and his narrow shoulders were slightly scrunched together. Shaking, he took out his wand and said something quietly.

           Within seconds, lights spewed from every corner of the room. The Enchantcian colors filled every eye and the guests cried out with joy. One, then two, then the whole room began to applaud in the fireworks’ honor.

           Even though the room lit up like a candle, and the fireworks were clear and bright, the only thing you could focus on was that still-shaking man on the stage. You could see him running back and forth, making sure everything was going as planned. He looked to the King with his eyebrows raised and eyes big. King Roland gave him an approving nod in return, and you saw Cedric stand up a little taller. He was adorable.

You noticed him look your way. You caught his glace and locked eyes with him. His eyes were kind and full of a questioning look. You felt your cheeks heat up and you put your hand to your face to hold back a giggle. Suddenly, the fireworks began to crack and rumble.

“Cedric! What is going on?” The king yelled over the crowd’s fearful screams.

“I-nothing, sir! Let me fix it!”

You were horrified and ran to the backroom.

Once you got there, Tyler noticed your concerned look and the way you were gripping the table.

“Dude, are you okay?”

You looked up with a pale face.

“Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“First off, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Second, you were running for your life.”

You looked up at him.

“Well,” you hesitated, “I was looking at the royal sorcerer and- “

“Wait, like looking like ‘oh, he’s lighting off fireworks’, or looking like ‘oh, that guy’s really sexy’?”

You felt your cheeks heat up again and Tyler laughed.

“It’s okay, we all think people are hot. Okay, now go on.”

“Okay, well, I was checking him out when he looked back at me. We made eye contact for a minute then the fireworks started going nuts.”

“Oh,” Tyler paused, “well, maybe he got distracted by you.”

“What? No-I mean-he’s so him and I’m just a server. We don’t even know each other.” You laughed nervously.

“So? You should try to talk to him.”

“Try to…okay, I will.” You said, nodding your head.

“Good luck.”

Next thing you know, you’re out serving to the guests.

…

You continued to serve guests for around an hour. You reached a group on young women and waited until they had stopped talking to politely interrupt.

           “Hello, would any of you care for some drinks?” You asked, trying to sound as polite as possible.

           They all looked at each other and smiled. As conversations normally go, two went to reply at once. This stopped both of them from replying and led them to get into a quiet “go ahead” “no, you go ahead” fight until finally they all started too giggle, and all declined the offer. You were about to walk away when you heard footsteps behind you.

           “H-hello, I’m Cedric.”

Your shoulders stiffened. Turning around, you saw the same man that was on the stage a few hours ago.

“Hello,” you answered, “my name is y/n y/l/n.”

           Cedric stared at you for a moment before saying anything. That moment felt like it lasted a year. His eyes were tightly fixed on yours as you began shifting.

           “Are you the same man that was standing by the servant’s doorway? During the fireworks.”

“Yes, I am. I didn’t know if you saw me or not. I was just-um-I thought,” you paused, unable to formulate your sentences correctly. He was so handsome, you had to try your hardest not to get too lost in his looks. “I thought you looked very attractive up there and I guess I was just staring.” You laughed, regretting how forward you had been.

           Cedric looked shocked.

“You thought I looked- “

           “Yeah.” You cut him off, sighing.

“Y/N! Why aren’t you serving guests? Go back to your job!” You heard your supervisor yell, marching over to you.

           “I’m sorry, sir. I was just- “

“I could fire you over this!” He shouted, giving you a menacing scowl.

           “Please, I’ll get back to work right away- “

“Actually,” Cedric interrupted, “I think he’s done enough work for the night.”

           Your supervisor shot Cedric an infuriated look.

“Cedric, he is my employee, he was employed to work for me.”

           Cedric cocked his head.

“Yes, I understand that, but I am above you in my services to this kingdom, so I think you, in a way, are my employee.”

           “Cedric- “

“So that being said, you are letting him off for the rest of the night. Understood?” He asked, lifting an eyebrow.

           “Fine.” The supervisor said, waving his hands in the air and walking off.

           You didn’t know what to say. You just stood there, frozen in time.

“Mr. y/l/n, would you care to dance?”

           You smiled.

“I’d love to.”

           The night was filled with dancing and talking. You began to get to know the sorcerer quite well.

You had guided Cedric out the door towards the gardens by the end of the 2nd hour of the morning. The two of you broke apart and you decided to walk towards the beautiful greenery.

           Walking along, you noticed his hand down at his side as you two walked.

“Cedric,” you said in a questioning tone.

           “Yes, y/n?”

“Can I hold your hand?”

           Cedric’s eyes widened.

“If you’d like to.”

           Without waiting another minute, you reached down and slid your hand around his. It was a weird feeling. You didn’t expect his gloves to feel cold and apparently, they were made of leather.

           Finally reaching a lush, secluded place, you stopped walking and looked up at Cedric.

“So, is it just me or is there something between us?”

           You laughed nervously.

“Well, I don’t know,” you slid your arms around his waist, “you tell me.”

           Cedric leaned in closer to you, pressing his body against yours.

“It would seem that maybe the two of us have some kind of- “he was cut off when you closed the gap.

           A soft kiss began, slowly continuing as you lifted a hand up to meet his cheek. You felt him shift, repositioning your other arm to wrap around his neck. Things began to heat up when you opened your mouth to see how he’d react. He was hesitant as first but gave in to letting your tongue enter.

           A few minutes had passed, and now you two had found a spot on the ground, you are hovering on top of him.

           Breaking the kiss, you looked into his hazel eyes and smiled.

“I think this should become a new habit of ours.”

           He leaned up to kiss you again.

“I believe that’s a wonderful idea.”

 Author’s note: so funny story. I don’t have someone to read any of my fics before I post them. This one meant a lot to me, so I decided I’d try my best not to have so many problems with my misspellings and grammar. To help make sure it flowed, I decided to turn on the read aloud setting on my document (I use Word to write my fics), and it was read to me in such a choppy, dry voice I was laughing my head off the whole time! Think of the most boring teacher reading a Cedric x reader fic! I think I’m gonna use it more often. It helped with the flow, but it also gave me a little happiness in the middle of these trying times. Love y’all! Hope you liked this!

           I want to post again soon, but honesty I don’t know when. I had a few things in the works that I really couldn’t connect to. I have new ideas, but I haven’t even written outlines yet

[wr1ter-reader-dreamer]

Angel (Pt. 4)

Harry Styles x Reader

A/N: This one was inspired by Harry’s song Only Angel. It’s five parts in total. If you like it, be sure to give it a reblog and check out the other parts linked below. Thanks, and enjoy <3

Warnings: Slight jealousy, some making out. Swearing. It’s long. Seriously. 

Masterlist

Part 1  -  Part 2  -  Part 3  -  Part 5

Forty-five minutes later, I was all dolled up and in a cab on the way to the house where the after party was being held. Now that the situation with Harry was resolved, I was free to relax and fully enjoy my accomplishment. I had been working toward becoming a Victoria’s Secret Angel since I was eleven years old, and now, eleven years later, I finally was. 

Giddy with excitement, I pulled out my phone to text Harry and tell him that I was close. He replied almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for me.

‘Good. I’ll be out back by the pool.’

I nodded to myself and put my phone away since the cab was pulling up to the house. Thanking and paying the cabbie, I stepped out. My stomach filled with nervous excitement, and I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the bustling house.

It was a modern two story with large windows that allowed me to see the party in full swing inside. Music could be heard thumping at the windows, and people could be seen walking around and mingling. I caught sight of Elsa on the second floor, looking out the window at the city, and waved when she saw me. Her face split into a wide smile, to which I smiled back, and she motioned for me to meet her downstairs. Nodding at her enthusiastically, I made my way to the large front door.

The music was louder inside, the deep bass thumping through my heart immediately. I smiled and waved at a few of the girls and other people I knew as my eyes searched for Elsa. It didn’t take me long to find her quickly descending the stairs, eyes searching for me.

“Elsa!” I called when I spotted her.

She squealed and rushed to pull me into a hug, “Y/N, you made it!”

I chuckled at her enthusiasm and returned her hug, “Ya, sorry I’m late. I had something I needed to take care of.”

“Oh?” she asked, pulling back to look at me, “Is everything alright?”

“Oh ya, it just took a while,” I said with a reassuring smile.

“Good, now let’s get you a drink.”

Elsa kept me close to her side for the next hour, insisting on getting some alcohol in me and taking me to see the other girls. Every time I tried to break away, telling her I was supposed to be meeting someone, she protested and demanded that I stayed with her a little longer. Knowing how she could get when she drank and not wanting to upset my best friend out of the girls, I stayed. But time was ticking and I knew Harry had to be wondering where I was, if he was still waiting at all.

Finally Elsa became engrossed in a conversation with some photographer, and I was able to slip away. I knew she wouldn’t miss me so I didn’t feel bad about ditching her, especially since I had Harry waiting for me. 

I moved quickly through the crowd in the house, making my way out to the pool. The view caused me to pause in my search for just a moment, insisting that I take in the lights in the trees and the fields in the valley below. Shaking it off before I could get too sucked in, I searched the crowd for my childhood love.

There was a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth set up to one side of the pool. A large crowd was dancing, and I briefly wondered how all these people got invited before moving my attention the the couched and chairs around the pool. Some groups were smaller than others, and there were even some people in the pool, but I couldn’t find Harry anywhere.

Sighing, I moved closer to the dance floor, hoping that he was over there. After a few moments of scanning the crowd, I was about ready to give up when I spotted his soft brown curls.

I realized that the reason I hadn’t been able to see him before was because he was laying down on one of the couches that had its back to me. Now, I saw that his head was on the lap of one of his band members, the woman who had played the drums. In fact he was surrounded by women, models to be precise. I rolled my eyes at how the young women leaned forward and ogled him as he spoke. Harry just basked in the attention, the exact same attention whore he had been since we were younger.

As Harry laughed, pushing himself up and out of his bandmate’s lap, I considered turning around, going back to Elsa, and getting black-out drunk. Harry was the same as he’d always been. He had always loved attention, especially the attention of pretty women, and right now, he had the attention of a lot of pretty women. I honestly didn’t know how I could compete with that, and I was jealous. I was now willing to admit that I was jealous of the attention he gave those women because I still loved him, and because of that, I didn’t want to be sober anymore.

Just as I was about to turn around and go drown myself in a bottle of vodka, Harry caught site of me. His entire face lit up, granting me with a large, genuinely happy smile and a view of his dimples. Looking away only briefly, he made a quick excuse to his group and in turn earned a knowing smile from his bandmate. Then he was pushing himself up and practically bounding over to me.

I couldn’t help but laugh, my heart melting at his enthusiasm. He was like a big puppy, so happy to see his person after a long day away. I realized that I was that person he was so excited to see, but refused to think about what that meant.

“Angel, you finally made it!” Harry called over the music, engulfing me in a giant hug as soon as he reached me.

“Hey, Harry,” I laughed, hugging him back.

I could feel the eyes of the models Harry had just left watching us as we stayed connected a few seconds longer than appropriate, but I didn’t care. Harry’s hugs had always been my favorite. He held you so close and secure, you just couldn’t help but feel safe. His hug brought out all of the feelings I was never good at hiding and didn’t want to deny anymore.

All too soon Harry squeezed me tighter then released me, pulling back to look me over. He whistled lowly and appreciatively at what he saw.

“Damn,” he swore, biting his lip, “you look gorgeous.”

I blushed a little but smiled. Alessandra and Elsa had helped me pick this dress months ago when I was first told I’d be walking as an official Angel, wings and all. I was worried that it was too much, but they both insisted that I looked amazing and this was the perfect place to wear it. Now, seeing Harry’s face, I was glad I did.

The dress was essentially simple, all tight black material clinging to my curves and stopping mid thigh. The stunning part was the neckline. A black collar twisted around my neck then parted at my chest, remaining open in a deep V that stopped just above my belly button. A harness shaped chain of crystals held the two sides closed and wrapped around my shoulders to drape delicately down the open back. At first I was self-conscious about putting so much skin on display, but considering I had just walked a globally broadcasted fashion show in nothing but lingerie and heels, I decided it really didn’t matter.

“Thank you,” I answered, giving Harry the same inspection he gave me, “You look pretty good yourself.”

He took a step back and did a little spin so I could see his outfit fully, making me laugh. He was wearing fitted black jeans and an open black suit jacket. Underneath was a loose fitting sky blue shirt with little white flower-like symbols on it. The shirt was halfway unbuttoned, leaving his smooth skin and a simple silver cross on display. When he moved, the swallows on his chest played peek-a-boo through the opening. His short hair sat as messy chocolate curls, a perfectly styled mess. All in all, he looked every bit the heart throb we both knew he truly was.

“Thanks, angel,” he grinned.

“Of course, but that sure is a lot of skin on display tonight, Mr. Styles,” I teased, trigging on the lapel of his jacket.

Harry laughed, dimples on full display, “You’re one to talk. Aren’t you afraid you’ll get cold wearing this dress in December?”

I shrugged, a coy smile tugging at the corners of my lips, “No. I figured if I got cold it’d be easy enough to find a man willing to lend me his jacket.”

“You’re not wrong there, love,” He said, glancing around, “you’ve already got them all starin’.”

I rolled my eyes internally, knowing full well that this wasn’t even the most revealing outfit here. It was obvious to me that Harry was jealous, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me kind of giddy. Seeing Harry again and resolving our past was bringing up feelings I’d been burying since I saw pictures of him and Taylor Swift for the first time. I had missed him and all the fun we’d had together. I was scared to admit it, but I hoped that the way he was acting, his choice to release that song, meant that he missed me too. Most of all, I hoped he wanted me back too.

Deciding that teasing Harry was fun, and that I wanted to see more of his jealous side, I looked around, “Really, you think so? ‘Cause I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time, and I wouldn’t mind finding a cute one.”

“Well I might know of a pretty cute guy who’s been looking for an Angel,” Harry hummed, pulling me against his chest.

“Ya?” I grinned as I placed my hands on his shoulders.

He nodded, “Ya, and right now he’d like to ask that Angel to dance.”

“I don’t know,” I teased, “if it’s who I think it is, this Angel might not want to dance with him.”

“And why the hell not?” Harry asked, pulling away in mock offense.

I grinned at him, disconnecting myself and preparing to run, “Because if I remember correctly, he’s not a very good dancer, and I have a reputation to uphold.”

He growled and lunged after me, but I just laughed and took off running toward the house the best I could in six inch heels. Harry caught me in no time, picking me up from behind and spinning me around. I squealed and giggled, drawing attention to us but not caring. Harry growled again, nipping at my ear as he carried me toward the dance floor. I laughed again, stilling in his arms so he didn’t accidentally drip me as he walked. 

“We’ll see about me being a bad dancer,” Harry growled, placing me down on the edge of the dance floor and spinning me around to face him.

I chuckled as I stumbled against him, “Whatever you say Mr. Styles.”

Turning back around, I pressed my back against him front. I took a second to listen to the music, letting the heavy bass take root in my heart, before I started moving against him. The music guided my hips, prompting me to roll and dip with the beats. Harry stood behind me, stunned for a few moments, but quickly recovered and placed his hands on my hips. Matching the movement of his hips to mine, he danced with me. With a smile on my face, I slid my hand up to tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled me closer and buried his face in my neck, pressing a kiss there. I closed my eyes and basked in the feeling of Harry dancing against me. 

It had been a long time since I had danced with Harry. The last time was when I was 17, the same night we slept together for the first time. He had rented out the club with his bandmates and thrown a party. I tagged along with my brother, hoping to blow off some steam after a hard week, but never expecting that my crush would tell me he liked me back. I wore some skimpy shorts and a top, typical club attire, and Harry was pissed. He didn’t like all of the male attention I was getting, especially since a lot of it was coming from his bandmates. So when I moved to the dance floor and started dancing, he followed me. 

That night Harry was quick to press against me, immediately matching my moves and whispering in my ear that I was asking for trouble. I just turned around and asked him how I could get into trouble with him always around to protect me. After that we danced for hours, and at the end of the night he kissed me and told me he’d been waiting to do that for years. I went home with him for the first time after that, and even knowing everything that happened after, I’d do it again in a heart beat. 

“So,” Harry spoke up, pulling at my side to get me to turn around to face him, “still think I’m a bad dancer?”

I smiled up at him and wrapped my arms around his neck, “No, I never did. I was just teasing you.”

“Of course you were,” he huffed, pulling me even closer, “You always were a tease.”

I shrugged, “Your reactions are funny.”

“Hmmm, you think so, angel?” Harry hummed, leaning down to press his forehead against mine.

The music changed, playing the first slower song I’d heard since arriving. I didn’t recognize it, but it was obvious that Harry did because he smiled down at me. I realized why a few moments later when his voice drifted through the air. Rolling my eyes at his obvious pleasure over them playing his song, I allowed him to sway us to the beat. We danced in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. I laid my head on Harry’s chest and listened to the words of his song. It was soft and sad, but still good. I began to realize that I had been missing out by not listening to his album before.

“What’s the song about?” I asked, propping my chin on Harry’s chest to look up at him.

“This one?” he asked as he looked down at me.

I rolled my eyes but smiled at him, “What other song would I be talking about?”

He shrugged and returned my smile, “I don’t know what goes on in your crazy mind.”

I rolled my eyes again and nudged him, “So what’s it about?”

“Just drifting apart from an old girlfriend,: he answered with a sheepish smile.

I frowned, beginning to get suspicious of his avoidance of the question. Why didn’t he want me to know who it was about?

“Which one?” I asked, pulling back to look at him better.

Harry averted his eyes but answered, “Taylor.”

I made a face, old feelings of jealousy and resentment rising to the surface. I loved Taylor Swift’s music, and I thought she was an amazing person, but thinking about Harry’s relationship with her still upset me. She was, after all, the woman I thought he left me for. She was definitely a sore subject. Clearing my throat, I untangled myself from his arms and moved off the dance floor. 

“Angel? Where are you going?” Harry asked, following close behind me.

“I don’t feel like dancing anymore,” I answered as I made my way to the back door, “I’d rather get a drink.”

He frowned, “I’m sorry, but I wan’t going to lie to you.”

Turning back over my shoulder, I shot him a small smile, “I know, Harry. It’s ok, I just need a drink.”

“Well, then let me get my angel a drink,” Harry said, taking my hand and moving in front to lead me to the kitchen.

After weaving through the crowd in the interior of the house, we made it to the kitchen. Harry didn’t ask what I wanted, but went ahead and made me a Malibu and Sprite.

“You remembered,” I laughed as I took the cup from his outstretched hand.

“Of course,” he said, leaning on the counter beside me, “It was the only thing that didn’t make you gag.”

I shrugged, no longer ashamed by my intolerance for the taste of alcohol, “It’s not my fault alcohol tastes so bad.”

Harry chuckled and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a call of my name from behind us. We turned to find one of my fellow Angels in the doorway, a large smile on her pretty face.

“Hey Romee,” I said, turning my body to face her more fully, “what’s up?”

She held her empty cup as she moved further into the kitchen, “Just needed a refill.”

I nodded, but didn’t say anything as I watched her mix a drink. Romee was a relatively new Angel too, having been added just two years before me, but we weren’t close. Ever since I had been announced as the newest Angel she had been cordial, but somewhat cold. I had tried to show her that I wasn’t there to replace her, but it didn’t matter, we would never be friends.

“So,” Romee said after taking a sip of her freshly made drink, “are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

I fought the urge to role my eyes, unsurprised by her request. It was no secret that I grew up with Harry, and it would be obvious to anyone who had seen us together tonight that we were close. It was also obvious that Harry was a very handsome, very eligible young man, so of course Romee wanted the chance to properly flirt with him.

“Harry, this is Romee Strijd,” I said, “and Romee, this is Harry Styles.”

Romee smiled as she extended her hand out to Harry, “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

“You too, love,” Harry answered, giving her a charming smile as he bowed slightly to kiss her hand.

She giggled and twirled a strand of hair around her finger, “Wow, what a gentleman. Where have you been all night?”

This time I did roll my eyes, taking a giant swig of my drink as Harry answered, “Oh you know, just looking for an angel.”

Romee smirked, taking a step forward so she could rest her hand on his chest, “Well lucky you, you found one.”

Jealousy reared its ugly head in my chest, flooding my body with heat and urging me to grab that bitch by the hair and haul her away from my man. But then Harry shot me a look over her shoulder that calmed me down. His eyes were playful, telling me that he knew what she was doing, and he wouldn’t fall for it.

“You’re right,” Harry said, smiling and stepping around her so he could wrap an arm around my shoulder, “and she’s right here.”

A smug smile slipped onto my features as Harry pressed a kiss to the side of my head, and Romee’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. She definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“I see,” Romee said, her features relaxing into an obviously fake smile, “you’ve stumbled across the newest addition to our ranks.”

“I wouldn’t say stumbled, more like finally found what I’ve been searching for,” Harry answered without taking his eyes off of me.

I smiled up at him and laughed when Romee just huffed and walked away.

Harry made a face at me, “Oops, did I just get you in trouble?”

I shrugged and turned so that I could wrap both hands around his waste, “I don’t care. The look on her face was worth it.”

He chuckled, leaning down to bump his nose against mine, “It was pretty great, wasn’t it?”

I scrunched my nose up and nodded. It was great to see him chose me over Romee. It was even better to hear that he had been searching for me. He may have thought I’d given up on him, but he hadn’t given up on me.

“So,” I started, my tone teasing, “you’ve been searching for me?”

Harry blushed but didn’t deny it, instead closing to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen from its place back behind my ear.

When he didn’t answer, I chose to keep teasing him, “So what is it about me exactly that you’ve missed enough to search for me?”

He rolled his eyes, “Definitely not how much you love teasing me.”

“Hey!” I protested, smacking his chest with my hand, “You like it when I tease. It means I’m giving you attention.”

“I guess that is true,” he conceded with a smile.

“You still haven’t answered.”

Harry sighed and looked up at the ceiling, “Well, let’s see. Your smile…” He paused to trace my lips with his thumb, “your laugh…” This time he tickled my sides, causing me to giggle, “your voice…” He paused again, a smirk tugging at his lips, distracting me from the path his hands were taking, “your ass.”

With that he smacked my ass causing me to screech out his name. He just laughed, letting me slip out of his arms as I pushed away.

“Harry Styles,” I said, hands on my hips and a stern expression on my face, “just what do you think you’re doing?”

He shrugged, still smirking as he took a step toward me, “Just answering your question, angel.”

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, “I was giving you the opportunity to be sweet but you ruined it.”

“C’m on angel, you know I’m just a dirty boy at heart,” he said innocently, still advancing toward me, “I can’t help it.”

Rolling my eyes, I took a step back, trying to keep distance between us. I knew from experience that we were treading in dangerous waters, and keeping our distance was probably the best option. Unfortunately for me, the kitchen didn’t agree, and the next time Harry took a step forward, my back made contact with the other counter.

“Shit,” I breathed as Harry crowded into my space, securing his hands on the counter on either side of me.

“You’re mine now,” he growled playfully, face only a hair’s width away from mine.

“Oh ya?” I asked, my eyes glued to his lips, “and what are you going to do with me?”

“‘m gonna kiss you,” he breathed.

He waited only a second to make sure I wasn’t going to protest before closing the distance between us. Our lips crashed together, each of us pouring years of pent up emotions into the kiss. Without missing a beat, I opened my mouth for him as I ran my hands up his chest to tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Harry moaned lowly when I gave a sharp tug, chasing me to grin into the kiss. This only spurred him on more, as he pushed himself against me harder and deepened the kiss.

I moaned when Harry bit my lip, and he responded by grabbing my hips and lifting me onto the counter. My legs parted for him naturally as he slotted himself between them. Now that I could feel his hardening member pressed up against me, I couldn’t stop my hands from wandering down. Panting against Harry’s lips, I stroked his clothed member once before gripping it tightly. He moaned again, this time louder than before, stoking the fire inside me. Matching his moan with a small whimper of my own, my hands scrambled for the button of his pants.

“Angel,” Harry moaned, his voice sounding pained.

“Harry,” I answered back with determination as my fingers finally managed to pop open his button.

“Angel, wait,” he said more forcefully this time, covering my hands with his own and stopping me from unzipping his zipper.”

“Why?” I whine, still trying to accomplish my goal.

Harry chuckled lowly but didn’t move his hands, “Angel, we can’t do this here.”

Frowning, I looked up at him with pouty eyes, “Why not?”

“Y/N,” he raised a brow and took a step back, “I really don’t think you want to risk someone walking in on us.”

With that minuscule distance, the lustful haze lifted from my mind just enough for me to remember where we were. My eyes widened comically and I cursed, causing Harry to laugh.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled, buttoning his pants.

“I can’t believe I almost fucked you in the kitchen of a house where there are at least a hundred people partying,” I blinked, still a little dazed from that kiss.

“Me neither,” Harry said, clearly amused as he helped me down from the counter and covered me while I fixed my dress, “I would never expect such deviant behavior from my angel.”

I rolled my eyes and slapped his chest, now fully back to reality, “Shut up! It’s not my fault I got carried away. I haven’t been fucked in five years.”

“Wait, what?” Harry stopped, eyes wide at my admission, “You haven’t had sex in five years?”

I blushed, but nodded, “Not since the last time with you.”

“Why not?”

I blushed even harder, “No one ever came close enough to you to catch my attention.”

“Is that right?” Harry asked with a smug expression, gathering me back into his arms.

I rolled my eyes, “Well that and the fact that I was always too busy to really look.”

“Well it sounds like you, my angel, are in need of a good fucking.”

I scrunched up my nose at his crude way of putting it, but didn’t bother denying it. Instead I said, “Think you could help me out with that?”

Harry grinned, lust lighting up his eyes, “It would be my pleasure.”

[kookiebunnii]

d4u || easy employment

march 2019. jungkook had his first ever job interview today. i told him i believed in him but, to be honest, i wasn’t sure if we were going to finish a carton of ice cream on the couch afterwards because he landed the job or because he got rejected on the spot. hopefully it’s the former.

pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x reader

genre: slice of life, humor

word count: 2.6k

warnings: some inappropriate humor

“Y/N? Can you help me?”

You straighten up from where you’re leaning on the kitchen counter, popping cherry tomatoes into your mouth for a mid-afternoon snack. It was Wednesday, meaning you were able to clamber home as soon as your early morning classes ended. Biting into another tomato and savoring the tart sweetness coating your tongue, you ask, “What’s up?”

Jungkook walks up to you and snatches the next tomato right out of your fingers before tossing it into his own mouth with gusto. He smiles at the way your face immediately drops in disappointment before answering smartly, “I don’t know how to tie a tie.”

Raising your eyebrows, you give his form a quick up-and-down before immediately noticing that the boy was dressed quite differently than usual. He typically left the house in whatever oversized tee or old hoodie he could find, but this time he was wearing a nice button-up with khakis. Pushing aside thoughts of how to get back at Guk for taking your last cherry tomato, you decide instead to inquire about what the occasion might be.

“What’s with the outfit?”

He spins around once for you, just to show off, before he replies, “I’ve got a job interview.”

You laugh while washing the bowl you’d previously used to house your snack for the day. Before drying your hands on a kitchen towel, you can’t help but check him out once again. He looked different for sure, but it wasn’t like you’d never seen the kid dressed up. You practically took wedding pictures with him last month.

So why was your pulse thrumming like a teen girl in a young adult novel?

Refraining from the urge to slap yourself, which was a very difficult task, you continue, “Where at? Must be a weird place if they’re willing to consider you.”

He frowns to show his dismay at your words before he strides closer to you shyly like a child wanting approval, “It’s at a magazine publisher’s. They’re looking for a photographer, someone to provide a few shots for their articles.”

Your jaw drops and you grip the sides of his arms before squeaking in excitement, “That sounds great! That’s perfect for you.”

Jungkook seems a lot happier now that you’re as thrilled about the job prospect as he is. He brushes some stray hairs away from your face to tuck behind your ear before saying, “It sure is. My friend is one of their writers, he recommended me.”

You take hold of the bright red tie that’s casually slung around his shoulders. It’s slightly wrinkled near the middle, a likely result of Jungkook failing multiple times to correctly tie a knot. The idea of him struggling with something so small makes you giggle, and you instantly wrap the fabric around your hands.

“Good thing I know how this works. We should probably go with a black or blue tie though, it’ll go with your shirt better,” you suggest, poking him in the chest as an indication for him to lead you to his closet.

He immediately understands your prodding, turning around to make a beeline towards his bedroom door. His obedience makes you smile, so you tug the hem of his shirt in your fingers as he leads the way. It’s usually easier for you to make this gesture, given the looseness of his regular clothing. However, with the pressed shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants, there is very little give in the fabric. You’re momentarily mesmerized by the change, watching the way your hand hangs onto the back of a man, instead of a boy.

“You’re not looking at my ass, right?”

Rolling your eyes, even though you knew he couldn’t see you, you grip his shirt tighter in order to pinch the skin underneath. He yelps, trying to grab you in retaliation, but you’re fast enough to quickly dodge inside his room and start sorting through the ties hanging from the inside of the closet door.

Laughing loudly, you pull a deep blue tie dotted with smiling whales off the hook and wave it in front of your best friend. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair before replying, “That was Jin’s birthday gift last year.”

“He has good taste,” you muse, giving the comedic tie another glance before returning it to its place. The fact that Jungkook had the tie sitting alongside his others, ones that are definitely more practical, says a lot about him. Even if he would likely never wear the thing, he respected his senior enough to keep the present. Under the typical silly and absentminded behavior of your roommate, he has a good heart.

“Should we go with the black one?” he suggests, walking forward to tug another tie off the hook above where your hand was resting.

Leaning your head against the closet door in thought, you examine the fabric in his hands before giving him a curt nod, “It’ll do.”

Seconds later, Jungkook is sitting on a corner of the bed with his legs slightly apart so that you’re able to stand between them with relative ease. You try your absolute hardest to focus on the task at hand, and not at the way he’s looking at you. It’s silly, the way your head fills with irrelevant thoughts when you knew that you were fantasizing about a boy that likely only ever saw you as the chill friend who was easy to tease. As you slide the tie under his collar while holding your fingers as steady as possible, you narrowly miss the way his Adam’s apple quickly dips in nervousness. Even if it was an irrational thought, you wanted to believe that your touch was doing somethingto him.

“You should be grateful that back in the day, my prom date didn’t know how to tie a tie either,” you chortle, your movements a little uncertain since it wasn’t everyday you were tying ties for men, but overall your memory served you well.

He grinned, “I remember him. He was trying to kiss you the whole night.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Jungkook laughs at the clear discomfort on your face, before gently patting the side of your hip as if to apologize. His touch is brief, not staying longer than necessary, but enough for the pressure to linger against your waist. Thinking about this causes you to mess up the next step, so you curse and start all over again.

“You’ve never had an interview before. Are you prepared?” you ask, curious but mostly just trying to hide the fact that you were back to square one due to being easily distracted.

His lips press together in thought, as he unconsciously leans back and uses his hands to prop himself up. You’re forced to follow the motion, so you also lean yourself slightly forward in order to prevent yourself from accidentally choking the boy. Not that that wouldn’t be entertaining.

“I read whatever popped up on the first page of the Google after I searched ‘how to ace your interview’,” he straightens up again after noticing the uncomfortable position he’s put you in, “It’s probably good enough.”

You shake your head, clicking your tongue in disapproval. Quickly finishing and straightening the knot, you stand back to admire your handiwork before saying, “That’s not the same as actually practicing. If you’re ready, let’s do a practice run before you head out.”

He looks up at you like a startled rabbit before he tries his best to regain his composure, “That’s probably not necessary…”

“Of course it is! Pretend I’m your interviewer,” you take a seat in his bright orange gaming chair, giving it a spin just for your own entertainment.

Jungkook appears slightly out of his element, but you recognize the exact moment he makes up his mind to humor you for the time being. Immediately, the air about him changes as he straightens up. Even though he is sitting, it feels like he towers over you. You wonder momentarily if out of all the things Jungkook is good at, acing interviews will just be another on that list.  

“Welcome, Mr. Jeon. How are you doing?” you settle into your role easily, crossing your legs as you briefly compliment yourself on your own persona. Perhaps if your career in international business doesn’t pan out after graduation, you could try auditioning for a few television shows.

Giving you an easy smile, the one he usually uses on adults he wants to make a good impression on, he replies, “Very well, thank you. And you?”

Surprisingly, he answers all of your following questions with confidence and poise. Even if he briefly pauses for a few seconds to consider his answers at times, you knew that that would simply give him extra points. Interviewers usually liked signs that the candidate was considering his or her answer carefully, and not just rattling off whatever popped into their heads. You really shouldn’t have doubted Jungkook’s abilities, even if it was his first time trying something. Perhaps you’ll continue your quest of “find something Jungkook is bad at” some other time.

“For our last question, we’d like to know what you consider your greatest weakness,” you chirp, knowing that this exact question used to trip you up all the time. It was easy to make up something you were good at and try to brag about it without coming off as arrogant. However, what could you say that would simultaneously be accepted as a weakness yet not make you look totally inept? You hated this question.

“I’m too handsome,” Jungkook announced proudly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His nose wrinkles as he smiles, and you know immediately he wants you to laugh at his comment.

You decide not to be the obedient counterpart to his comedy routine, so you say, “I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with that one Mr. Jeon. Thank you for coming but unfortunately we will not be-” 

“You couldn’t even pretend to humor me?” he gets up to try and pull you out of your chair, which is an easy feat for him. 

“Good girls don’t tell lies.”

“And you’re supposed to be a good girl?” he replies, raising an eyebrow as a dangerous smirk tugs against his lips.

Whatever was happening, it was definitely doing something to you. His comment was definitely harmless, but given how much you were struggling with your thoughts recently, it easy threatened the wall you were trying to keep up. You bite your lip, trying to casually brush it off and think of a snide comment to counter with, but your mind refused to operate. 

“There’s still some time left,” he says after the silence drags for a beat longer than it should. You press your fingers against your cheeks to make sure you’re not beet red, as he paces over to a full-length mirror attached to the wall and starts fixing his hair. You don’t see any issues with it, but if fiddling with his locks made him feel better, than so be it. Standing behind him, you notice the way your reflection is beaming with pride. Even if you were too bashful to admit it, seeing him all dressed up with your help made you feel accomplished. You had a hand in helping him out, thus his successes could also be counted as you own.

“Don’t we look good together?” Jungkook chirps, bring you forward with an arm around your shoulders. You’re shorter than him, so the gesture looks a bit weird in the mirror, especially given the dichotomy of your outfits. Next to Jungkook’s office worker look, you look more like the casual homebody in your ratty t-shirt and shorts.

“I think it’s mainly me,” you strike a pose and give yourself a once-over.

He laughs, and you immediately smile at the familiar sound. Busying himself with packing various items in his backpack, you watch from the sidelines as your best friend prepares. You hand him his freshly printed resume when you notice it laying on his dresser. He gives you his mumbled thanks while scanning to room the ensure that he hadn’t forgotten anything else.

“One last thing.”

You unbutton the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, rolling them up so they end just under his elbows. Smoothing out any remaining wrinkles from your ministrations, you look up at him with a satisfied expression. He observes your newest addition before deadpanning, “What’s this for?”

“It looks better this way. Haven’t you seen those memes about how men get ten times more attractive with their sleeves rolled up?” you muse, reaching up in an attempt to squeeze his cheeks but your victim expert dodges away at the last minute.

“How could I be more attractive though?” he teases, striking the same pose you had earlier in front of the mirror.

“Alright that’s your cue to leave.”

He chuckles, slinging his backpack on his shoulder and heading out of his room. You follow him dutifully, hoping to at least see him out the door. You can feel the tiny buzz of anticipation along your arms, knowing that Jungkook had to face the upcoming challenge on his own. You knew he could do it, but you worry nevertheless.

“Hey um, don’t make fun of me…but could I get a hug?”

The awkward way Jungkook stands at the door, arms slightly raised at his sides in preparation for the hug he was requesting, almost made you melt on the spot. He was comfortable with physical touch for sure, but he had never really asked you for a hug like this before. It was like he had this big boy image he wanted to portray daily, but you suppose that he must be even more nervous than you are if he’s willing to shed that in front of you—even at the expense of you teasing him about it for the next month.

You don’t answer, holding back the usual quip you’d throw at him. On a normal day, perhaps you’d coo and slyly ask him if he’s turning into a soft baby boy, but you knew that this was a serious request. Bounding up to him, you wrap your arms around his waist and give him the embrace he requested. Doing your best to convey all the joy and hope into the hug, you relish the way he holds you just as tight with his face buried in your neck. His breath tickles your hair, and you hope that somehow despite how close the two of you were, he couldn’t feel the way your heart betrayed you. Because if the proximity meant he could feel it pounding a mile a minute, then maybe he’d realize just how much more he was starting to mean to you.

“I’ll be back by dinner,” he says, patting the top of your head as he does so, before he opens the door in preparation to head to his interview.

When he turns back one last time, as if he needs one last look at you for encouragement, you give him your brightest smile and a thumbs up.

You knew in that moment that you would always be behind him—every step of the way.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

<< previous || masterlist || next >>

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Six

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. Caladega Canyon and Sandblossom are made up places lol I hope everyone is well :) Summary: There were no mandates against using the lightspeed breakaway factor to go back and observe places in other times, but it was unlikely that we were asked to do as such. 

There was an air of excitement around the ship. After dropping the Anil crew off at Starbase 389, a mission had come down from Starfleet high command that we were to head back to Earth. This was an order that sent shock waves through the bridge, right down to engineering. There were no mandates against using the lightspeed breakaway factor to go back and observe places in other times, but it was unlikely that we were asked to do as such. I hadn’t expected a call up to the Captain’s ready room for a briefing, but I was there, wedged between Thaleh and Nahn. “We’ve been ordered to go back to observe Earth in the year 1868,” The Captain informed us from where he was standing at the head of the table, “It was the last year in the 19th century that the Leonid meteors made an appearance. They want us to get a look at it, then slingshot to 1899 for comparison, confirm the conditions and why they didn’t make a reappearance.” “I assume this has to do with the increased Leonid activity around Earth recently?” Spock asked. “You assume correctly, Mr. Spock,” The Captain nodded to him, “We’ve been directed to observe this phenomenon from the ground and from the ship, so an away team and I will be beaming down to the surface to observe.” Why the hell was I there? “We need people that know the era, and can embed convincingly on the off-chance we encounter anyone.” Ah. In our many conversations, in one of the instances wherein the Captain had mentioned horses, I’d let it slip that as a child, I’d had a slight Wild West obsession. The Captain had caught my eye as he’d said it, as if he’d read my mind and heard my question. “We’ll be arriving at Earth in forty-eight minutes. Get prepared. Dismissed,” He added, nodding to us. --

Number One sent a note to me PADD to reconvene in the Captain’s ready room once I was ready to beam down. I’d arrived first and was looking out of the window as I fiddled with my clothing. I’d been provided with a few options and had chosen a pair of pants, a pale pink button-down, and a sturdy dark grey wool jacket; the boots I’d been chosen to use were my own - older and scuffed, the laces slightly frayed. I turned to see the Captain walk in as I straightened my jacket sleeve. “Is the wardrobe up to snuff?” He asked. “You’re going to have to define ‘up to snuff’,” I said critically, looking down at myself. It was clear that they’d opted for clothing we’d be able to move around in. “Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t entirely uncommon for women to wear pants on the frontier, but if we wind up in a town somehow, I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw some crinolines... Then again, maybe not, that was a more mainstream style, I don’t know how quickly it would’ve carried out West...” I had dipped into rambling, and I only noted in when I turned back to Pike and found him leaning against the wall with an amused smile. “... The wardrobe is fine,” I said after a moment, wishing I’d started and stopped with that, “Who else is beaming down?” “Number One and Connolly,” Pike said. I nodded, glancing over at the Captain. He looked like a clean-cut cowboy - a button down under a black waistcoat, dark pants not dissimilar to his uniform pants, but a looser cut. All he was missing was the hat. I let my eyes drift up to the Captain’s face to find him watching me, and I felt my face flush hot. I couldn’t bring myself to look away, though; he wasn’t looking away, either. And he wasn’t frowning, or staring me down because I’d just been watching him. He was just... Looking. My gaze was drawn away when the doors whooshed open and Number One and Connolly stepped inside. The plan was to beam down around dusk, set up our observation site, take our recordings and beam back up. “Let’s go,” the Captain spoke up, drawing our attention. -- We’d staked out on the edge of Caladega Canyon. Number One and I had set up the equipment while Pike and Connolly had started a fire for warmth. It was already cool, and the sun hadn’t even fully set yet. I knew from the maps that there was a town a few miles north of us, and I was itching to go, but I knew that that wasn’t a possibility. We had our orders, we would get the readings and beam back up to the ship.  I lowered myself to sit beside the fire, folding my legs and gazing up at the sky. As much as I loved being in space, there was just something different about getting to look about it from a planet’s surface. “Are you cold?” Pike asked. I shook my head, despite the fact that I’d just tightened my collar around my neck. “I‘m fine,” I said, smiling. “Glad to hear it, because we heard from the Enterprise and we may be camping out overnight. The proximity of the Leonids is interfering with our transporters,“ Number One said, approaching us. “Looks like a picked a good coat,” I commented. “Good thing we didn’t have any crinoline,” Pike added. I snorted, unable to help it, and quickly averted my eyes as Number One gave me a look. -- Once our readings were complete, we chose to take watches in shifts. I went first, then Connolly, then Number One, and Pike would take it last. Every shift would check in with the Enterprise to monitor the transporter situation; as soon as we were clear, we’d alert the others. When I woke up, the sky was still dark. The fire was nearly burnt down to its embers; I was a bit chilly, but that was nothing a hot shower and a cup of coffee wouldn’t shake. I looked around, spotting Pike at the edge of our little clearing, sitting on the ground and facing the canyon. I propped myself up on my elbows, glancing between Number One and Connolly. They were sound asleep. I pushed myself off of the ground, walking over to where Pike was and sitting down beside him. “Sleep alright?” He asked, smiling at me. “About as well one can on a desert floor, yeah,” I nodded. Pike chuckled. “If we’d been a little more prepared we could’ve brought down a few blankets and made it much more comfortable,” He commented. I hummed, drawing my knees up to my chest. “Are you cold?” Pike asked, a little more knowing this time. I just shook my head. There was a pause before Pike muttered, “Liar.” I turned to look at him, face a mask of shock, and he laughed. I shushed him, glancing back at the other two to make sure they hadn’t woken up at his outburst. When I was satisfied that they’d remained asleep, I turned back around, shaking my head at Pike, who was still grinning. “We could go into town and grab something,” Pike offered. “We don’t have any money,” I pointed out. “Well, we could go into town and look,” He countered. I smiled at him, unable to help it. “As curious as I am, we have a job to do down here,” I pointed out. Pike nodded, conceding. “We do...But we did it. When are we ever going to be here again?” He asked. I lowered my eyes before I turned to look out over the canyon, considering. He had a point, but going into town felt like inviting trouble. “Let’s just...See what we hear about beaming back up,” I offered. Pike nodded beside me. “Diplomatic,” He commented. I shrugged. “There are too many unknowns. I wouldn’t feel comfortable going into town unless we knew we had a reasonable exit strategy.” “Tell me what you know about the town,” Pike requested. I frowned, turning to look at him. “What makes you think I know anything about it?” I asked. He fixed me with a knowing smile. “Call it a hunch.” I turned my eyes to the sky, recalling what I’d read about the town before I’d made my way to meet with the others in the ready room. “Sandblossom started as a silver mining camp. It went through a population boom about seven years ago, but it’s starting to dwindle now. It’ll be a veritable ghost town by 1872. Railroad doesn’t come out this way, and there’s a pretty bad mine collapse in the future,” I frowned, “It just can’t sustain.” Pike hummed thoughtfully beside me. We were quiet for a little while, watching the sky begin to lighten. I wrapped my arms around myself as a strong wind pushed over the mouth of the canyon. “Here,” Pike began to take his jacket off, but I shook my head, arguing, “Don’t. Honestly, I’m fine. It’s just a little chilly-- And if you catch a chill, Dr. Boyce’ll have all our heads when we beam back up.” Pike shrugged the jacket back on, his face thoughtful before he scooched a little closer. “Body heat works just as well,” he pointed out. I nodded a little bit as his thigh pressed against mine. “That’s true,” I muttered. Pike’s arm wrapped around my shoulders, tentative. “Is this alright?” He asked quietly. I nodded, and his hold grew more firm, pressing me into his side. I leaned into him almost unthinkingly; as soon as I’d realized what I’d done, the logical part of me told said to lean away, apologize. But I was already warmer, and Pike wasn’t pushing me away; instead his hand was rubbing over my shoulder to create a little additional warmth. I hesitated before I rested my head on his shoulder. “Is this alright?” I asked. “Of course,” He answered. Of course. As if this was totally normal, as if we did this all the time. “Tell you what,” Pike said quietly, “Once we get transporter capability, I’ll see if we’re able to go into town for a bit.” “What for?” I asked. “Just to have a look around.” I tipped my head up to look at Pike. “Curiosity killed the cat, Captain.” He smiled. “Satisfaction brought it back, Lieutenant.”

[justplainwhump]

The new girl

[Casino AU : Marissa’s Story ]

Out of the frying pan into the fryer... On Stephen’s behalf Marissa gets transferred from Charlie’s basement to her new ‘home’ in the Casino.

Credits for our shared characters and setting go out to @whumping-newbie!

Content (warnings): Captivity, villain POV, lady whump, female whumpee, female whumper, kidnapping, forced stripping (non-sexual), dubcon kiss, nudity, scars, very vaguely referenced noncon, human trafficking // tell me if I should add something.

Fitzgerald's personal girl arrived early on a Sunday morning, the only time in her week Lydia considered sacred, for her weekly brunch video calls with her family. She wagered he knew it; that was exactly the sort of subtle power play he'd exert.

And he had won; she'd canceled brunch for "work reasons" and was now standing in the club's security office watching the video feed of Stephen's limousine driving into the reserved parking area many floors below. She was already on her third coffee, yet still had to suppress a yawn. On the black and white screen, the uniformed driver got off and circled the car to open the trunk.

"That fucking limo has tinted windows", she mumbled. "He still puts the girl in the trunk."

"Doesn't everyone?", the guard asked. "What do you care, anyway?"

"The new ones", she corrected. "This one is meant to be, I quote, 'very well trained' already. Shouldn't need to be put in place like this. Do I see it correctly, that Fitzgerald didn't even bother showing up himself?"

The driver downstairs helped a casino guard to recover a petite woman from the trunk, disoriented and unsteady on her feet, before he went back into the car and drove off. 

Lydia bit back the insults on her tongue as she hit the speed dial button on her phone. Routed straight to mail box. Sleeping it off on this lovely Sunday morning.

The guard had just thrown the woman over his shoulder and vanished into the elevator. She didn't seem to be much of a fighter indeed.

"Is the room ready?", she asked the attendants waiting for instructions by the door.

"Of course, Madam", one of them was quick to say. Tim or something. "Good. Get the physician there as well. And I'll need another coffee."

With a sigh she grabbed her cane closer and went over, one of the attendants hurrying in front of her to open the doors. She enjoyed their subservience. What she didn't enjoy was Fitzgerald expecting subservience from *her*.

When she arrived, the woman was already there, seated on the bed. Her gaze was cast down, long dark brown curls falling over her face. She looked rather clean, but apart from that was a sorry sight. Her hair dull and messy, her skin under the too largr men's T-shirt pale and littered with bruises and aggressively red scars. It took a lot of imagination to spot the elegant businesswoman underneath, the lady that was shown on the pictures Stephen had sent her in advance.

"What are you waiting for, girl? Undress", Lydia commanded.

For a second, the woman lifted her gaze. Brown eyes met hers, red-rimmed, but at the same time utterly attentive. It held only a fraction of a second, so quick Lydia wondered if she had just imagined it, before the other woman rose to her feet and pulled the shirt over her head. The shorts slid down from her thin hips right after. She wasn't wearing anything underneath, just stood there, naked, waiting.

Lydia stepped in, let the tip of her cane wander over her stomach and chest, admiring the woman's calm acceptance. She tipped it at the red leather collar around her neck. Ugly bruises were showing beneath it.

"Off with that, too."

A tiny flinch, before her hands went up almost shakily. "He doesn't want me to -"

"If Mr Fitzgerald wants it back on, you'll put it back on, but right now, you listen to me first and foremost. And I say it goes off."

She bit her lip, but didn't speak, as her fingers slowly went to the back of her neck and fiddled with the buckle.

A delicate gasp of pain escaped her lips, as the collar opened and she took it off, letting it fall to the floor. The skin underneath was chafed and raw, angry welts around its edges. 

Lydia pursed her lips. That would need treatment, as well as some of the wounds crossing her body. Whoever had hurt her - Stephen's mysterious *friend*, most likely - hadn't invested much in keeping her in shape. It was a wonder she could still stand.

"What's your name?" Lydia knew, of course. Still, she wanted to observe her reactions.

"Marissa." There it was again, that short, assessing gaze, that didn't seem to entirely match the image of the broken woman the rest of her presented. Intriguing indeed.

"Marissa." Lydia's cane went up to press the woman's chin up, before she could avert her gaze again. Marissa bit back a whine, probably caused by the strain on that bruised neck. 

"I'm Madam Hutchinson. I run this place. I do not tolerate objections, neither to me nor to the clients."

"Clients?" Marissa asked slowly. "I thought I was to serve to Charles and Stephen."

Charles. The mystery friend. And Stephen, not Mr Fitzgerald, not Master, not any other odd term. Personal ties. Fitzgerald of course had failed to mention *that*. She didn't like the relationships between clients and workers to run that deep.

"This is a well managed, professional place. We accommodate you on Mr. Fitzgerald's behalf, but you will work for us as well. That means you'll serve anyone who pays us for it, and you'll do or let them do whatever they want."

An odd noise came from Marissa, and it took Lydia a moment to realize it was laughter. A hard, disbelieving chuckle, but a laugh nonetheless. "Of course", she said then. This time, she held Lydia's gaze. The cane itched in her hand, ready to discipline her for insubordination, but Marissa didn't say anything more.

Lydia cleared her throat, before she continued. "You will be prepared to do so by us, before you're made available to our paying clients."

"Trained?", Marissa asked.

"Learn how to seduce our clients. To please them, whatever their needs and demands."

A tiny smile danced around Marissa's mouth, oddly out of place, directing Lydia's glance to her lips. Something happened to her stance, maybe only a shift of weight, that let the room's lights perfectly illuminate her naked, bruised body. Gently, Marissa placed a hand on the cane, her movement soft and elegant. From behind her, Lydia heard the rustle of fabric indicating the guards drawing their batons, slowly, insecurely. A tiny lift of Lydia's hand made them step back.

She let Marissa guide the cane aside and watched her step in closer. Marissa's hand rose, slowly, tentatively, settling on Lydia's cheek, while her body nestled snugly against Lydia's.

Marissa looked up, and Lydia could read a challenge in her eyes, an invitation, and despair.

Carefully, Marissa pushed herself to her toes, and guided Lydia's face toward her. Her breath was warm on her skin, and Lydia could feel her own accelerated heartbeat, as she let Marissa pull her into a gentle kiss.

"Like that?", Marissa whispered against her lips.

Lydia swallowed and stepped back. Marissa didn't try to follow. She stayed stood in the middle of the room, naked and vulnerable, fully at Lydia's disposal, and yet she felt as if she had just been defeated.

"Clean her up", Lydia said. Her voice sounded rough to her own ears. "Get her a haircut and some medical attention. Also, she needs to gain some weight, asap. Apart from that, she's ready for the clients. We can introduce her tomorrow."

[vex-bittys]

Imagine the Possum-bilities: An Underfell Story (part 3)

The Possum Posse

The world of Underfell has gone to the possums!

Warning: child death mention

----------

Gloomfanger’s brood of tiny opossums easily integrated themselves into the daily lives of the skeleton brothers. Their instinctual desire to climb and cling to other living creatures proved endearing to everyone in the household, and there was no shortage of willing baby possum perches. The baby possums began their supreme reign over the home by electing the local regent, Doomfanger, as their second mother.

From the moment that they’d first emerged from Gloomfanger’s pouch, eyes barely opened and legs still wobbly, Doomfanger fascinated them with her silky white fur, rumbling purr, and insistent grooming. Eight small passengers could barely cram themselves comfortably atop Gloomfanger’s coarsely-furred back, but split equally between the cat and the possum, the baby Gloomies (as Red called them) enjoyed a roomy and luxurious mode of transportation.

It wasn’t until the baby possums were quite a bit bigger and significantly less fragile that they were allowed to clamber onto the other members of the household, but as soon as the first miniature pink possum hands wrapped around the skeleton brothers’ pant legs, the little possums secured their positions in Red and Edge’s hearts. The gruff brothers, unused to expressing positive emotions, both denied the tears of joy in their sockets, blaming allergies and invisible onions as the baby Gloomies played on their new skeleton jungle gyms.

“hey, Boss, check it out,” said Red one day, opening his jacket like a flasher to show seven little possums hanging upside down by their tails from various ribs. Gloomfanger herself peered over the waistband of Red’s shorts, where she was nestled in the bowl of his pelvis. Edge sighed.

“THAT’S VULGAR,” he scolded, arms folded across his chest. A very small baby possum head popped up from the folds of his tattered scarf and chattered a scolding of her own. The only female in the brood happened to prefer Edge’s scarf over any other perch, and Edge allowed her unprecedented access to it, and to his well-guarded affections.

The rambunctious baby Gloomies grew quickly. In order to tell them apart more easily, Edge made each small possum a differently colored bandana. The female of the group received a bandana in the same color as Doomfanger’s jeweled collar- a delicate rose pink just a few shades lighter than Edge’s magic. The other possums, a rowdy bunch of boys who loved greasy Grillby’s food as much as Red and Gloomfanger did, wore vibrant shades of yellow, orange, green, violet, midnight blue, pale blue, and dark red.

Admiring his handiwork, Edge scowled when Red announced that he had also chosen names for the entire brood. The tall skeleton had a feeling that Red’s choices would not meet his very high standards, and Red proved him right, holding up a possum in a green bandana and declaring with authority: “Dumpster.”

One by one, Red lifted the baby possums, Lion King style, and proclaimed their terrible names to an appalled audience of one.

The possum wearing the yellow bandana: “Rubbish.”

The possum in the violet bandana: “Trashy.”

The possum sporting the orange bandana: “Debris.”

The possums who had midnight blue and pale blue bandanas: “Filth” and “Scraps.”

Finally, Red lifted the baby possum wearing his namesake, the red bandana. “this little guy’s called Slop, or Junior for short.”

Edge swatted Red’s hand away from his beloved scarf-dwelling baby possum. “YOU CAN’T NAME THEM ALL AFTER GARBAGE,” he shouted, not wanting to hear the horrible name that his brother had chosen for his favorite possum of the litter.

“of course not, Boss,” said Red with a mischievous grin. “the little girl is called-”

Edge clenched his sharp teeth and braced himself for the mental onslaught of whatever Red would say next. “IF YOU CALL HER SCUMBELINA, I WILL END YOU.”

“- Anastasia.”

Edge blinked, and Red howled with laughter.

----------

Edge volunteered to take the young possums with him to the Capitol to give his brother and Gloomfanger a day to themselves to relax and stuff their faces with greasy junk food. The Captain of Snowdin’s Royal Guard would be meeting Undyne and the King for their annual status report. Edge tucked the eight little furballs into his armor, thinking that they would spend the entire time dozing off to his boring reports about inventory, training, and guard rotations. Of course nothing ever went that smoothly when Gloomfanger’s little ones were involved.

Anastasia, ever the dignified young lady, climbed up and nestled herself in Edge’s scarf underneath his chin and stayed quiet and out-of-sight during the visit. Her brothers, however, decided that they wanted to see what was happening around them, not snooze through the experience in Edge’s stuffy armor.

The first sign of trouble came when Edge felt stiff little whiskers tickling his ribs. He managed to turn a very unbecoming giggle into a much less embarrassing clearing of his nonexistent throat. Undyne was familiar enough with her skeleton counterpart to know something was amiss, but she chose to observe the situation instead of interrupting the report. Her instinct for hilarious chaos turned out to be right.

It didn’t take long for a triangular little face to appear through the armhole of Edge’s armor. Hairless ears brushed the underside of Edge’s humerus, making him yelp, a sound that could not be disguised as anything else. Undyne barely held back a laugh. The King regarded the skeleton with a frown. Edge’s mind raced, desperately reaching for any plausible explanation.

“I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I LEFT A LASAGNA IN THE OVEN,” he offered lamely. The King’s eyes narrowed skeptically, and Undyne sputtered.

“He really cares about his lasagna,” Undyne added unhelpfully.

More possum faces pushed their way to the potential exits at the neck and arms of Edge’s armor, and their movements made him twitch and spasm in a strange parody of dancing. Undyne doubled over, filling the halls with her raucous laughter. In response to the unfamiliar noise, the baby possums wrapped their tails around Edge’s arms, hissing in fear.

“What is the meaning of this behavior?” bellowed King Asgore, a monster to be feared and respected.

Edge spread his arms, and seven baby possums dropped into upside down hanging positions. Edge looked like he wore a fringed cape made of scruffy two-toned fur. Undyne rolled on the palace floor. Asgore leaned close to the possums to inspect them. Anastasia climbed out of Edge’s scarf to stand boldly in front of the massive ruler of the Underground. She chattered aggressively at Asgore, and there could be no mistaking her protective stance or ferocious noises. The feisty female possum would not allow Edge to come to harm under her watchful button eyes.

A slow smile spread across Asgore’s severe features. He chuckled and stepped back. Satisfied at having driven off the threat, Anastasia returned to her hiding place in Edge’s scarf folds. He gave her tiny head a gentle scritch with one sharp phalange.

“I see Snowdin’s Junior Guard is coming along nicely,” the King commented. “Of course, as Royal Guard members, these creatures are under my protection, and I trust you, Captain, to make sure all of the monsters of Snowdin know it.”

“YES, SIR,” replied Edge, silently thinking that this was the exact opposite of the way a royal guard actually worked but refusing to argue with his monarch, especially after such a gracious declaration.

“Do make sure you bring them along when you make your next report, Captain. You are dismissed.”

“YES, SIR.” 

As Asgore turned and walked away, Edge spotted a very brave young possum, Scraps if he remembered correctly (and he always did), clinging to one of King Asgore’s impressive horns. Though the fearsome ruler pretended not to notice his illicit passenger, he proceeded to walk with exceptional care so as not to jostle the tiny creature. He also murmured to Scraps once he believed himself to be out of earshot of the two Captains.

Undyne laid on the floor, gasping for air. When she finally composed herself, she grinned an unsettling toothy grin at Edge. “The big softy,” she commented, and she would know since Asgore had adopted her when she was still very young. “He hasn’t looked at another creature like that since I graduated from stripes!”

----------

From the moment Red stepped across the threshold into Grillby’s restaurant, he could feel the purple fire elemental’s seething ire. His hunger overpowered what dismal common sense he possessed, so he sauntered up to the bar anyway and plopped his bony behind on an empty stool.

Grillby glowered at Red so hard that Red might’ve expected him to burst into flames… if he wasn’t already consumed by them on a daily basis. “Unless you’re here to pay your tab, Red,” growled Grillby, leaving the threat open ended.

Red blinked at the fire elemental with exaggerated innocence. “my bro’s going to pay it when he gets back from guard duty,” he explained. 

The glower and purple flames intensified. “That’s what you said last time,” growled Grillby.

“yeah, but i was lying that time.”

“And are you lying this time?” 

“probably. anyway, can i get a burger and an extra large order of fries?”

The pure audacity of the skeleton in front of him struck Grillby speechless. Before he could recover enough coherent communication skills to tell Red exactly where he could go and what he could do with himself once he got there in extreme graphic detail, eight small possums emerged from Red’s jacket and scurried across the counter to an abandoned plate of fries. The little ones picked up the now-cold fries in their little pink possum hands and nibbled them delicately, eyes half-closed as they savored the flavor.

Any monster who wasn’t as familiar with the expressions of Grillby’s not-quite-face as Red wouldn’t have noticed the agitation giving way and the sharp-edged flames softening. Grillby whirled and entered the kitchen, returning a moment later with a plate of stir-fried vegetables and a small order of fries. He cleared the plate of leftovers from the counter and set the freshly-made dish in front of the hungry baby possums. The possums descended on the food with gusto, making adorable small noises of pleasure as they tasted the gourmet cuisine.

Gloomfanger’s head popped up from the collar of Red’s sweater, and a smile rippled to life in the purple fire of Grillby’s mouth. “This must be the mother. A moment please, m’lady.” Grillby disappeared into the kitchen again and again he returned with a plate of hot fries and a burger with extra vegetables and no bun. He placed this offering in front of Gloomfanger who gave it an investigative sniff before picking it up and eating it like a hairy miniature Red.

Red reached for one of the fries on Gloomfanger’s plate, and Grillby slapped his hand away. “That food is for the mother of this adorable brood, not a degenerate lazybones who doesn’t pay his tab,” snapped Grillby.

“but what about my order?” pouted Red, watching the possum family chirp happily as they enjoyed their meals.

“Your order? Red, you’re lucky I don’t toss your free-loading ass out into the nearest snow poff.” Grillby folded his arms across his chest, but once again hunger outweighed sense when it came to a certain skeleton.

“i brought the possums to visit you though,” Red wheedled. Grillby’s eyes narrowed behind his ever-present (even indoors) sunglasses, or at least, Red assumed that what passed for Grillby’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses based on the low and dangerous tone of his voice. Red couldn’t actually see through the reflective material at all, but he knew Grillby fairly well after so many years of unpaid and antagonistic patronage.

“I suppose.” Grillby drew out the word suppose, letting Red know that he agreed but with extreme reluctance and utmost disdain.

“I might even be willing to forgive your tab provided that you bring these tiny guests to try out a few new recipes that I have in mind for them.” As Grillby spoke, little Trashy, the possum with the violet bandana, waddled up to him and gave his forearm a nuzzle. The tips of Grillby’s flames flushed blue, and he made a quick escape to the kitchen to hide the fire elemental equivalent of a blush.

Thinking that Grillby couldn’t see him from the other room, Red snuck a fry off of Gloomfanger’s plate only to see flames belch from the double doors leading to the cooking area and hear Grillby’s warning growl:

“RED!”

Busted.

----------

Usually, Red left Gloomfanger and her brood at home during his sentry duties, duties that his brother had signed him up for under the pretense of forcing him to “contribute to monster society” though Edge actually feared that without a task or a purpose, Red might fall down as so many other monsters did. Red was actually grateful for his brother’s strong-armed recruitment; it was during one of his sentry patrols that he’d found a massive ornate door hidden away in Snowdin Forest.

Red had knocked upon the door, not expecting an answer. He’d gotten one, though- a reedy female voice calling out the response “Who’s there?” Unable to resist, Red tried out one of his favorite knock-knock jokes.

“wooden shoe.”

A pause.

Then “Wooden shoe who?” spoken by the same female voice.

“wooden shoe like to know.” 

Red knew the monster on the other side of the door couldn’t see him, but he grinned in eager anticipation, waiting for them to get the joke. The voice laughed a moment later, musical laughter that left Red wondering if he should perhaps try another joke.

He knocked again. 

Sometimes he told jokes to the voice behind the door to the Ruins. Sometimes he just talked, passing the time by sharing his life experiences. The voice rarely spoke about itself, though it occasionally described happenings in the Ruins that he might find amusing. Red had a sneaking suspicion that the voice might belong to a certain missing Queen, but he didn’t bring it up, not wanting to upset her and lose his audience for the terrible jokes he thought up in his ample free time. His brother sure didn’t appreciate them!

Red even told the voice behind the door about Gloomfanger and her babies. The voice became demure, asking to meet the little ones and sighing wistfully. Red waited until the baby possums were old enough to make the journey through the frigid forest before bringing them to meet his partner in crimes against comedy. Anastasia had opted to do her civic duty alongside Edge, but the male possums wiggled with excitement at the sight of new surroundings. For the first time since he’d discovered it, the door to the Ruins opened, just a crack, just enough for Red to see a yellow eye peering out, watching the little possums wrestle in the snow.

Rubbish, bright yellow bandana flying like a flag behind him, broke away from his brothers and darted through the open doorway. The Ruins door slammed shut behind him, and Red leapt to his feet in a panic. He pounded on the door, causing echoes to boom through the caverns of the Ruins like subterranean thunder. A sickly sweet singsong voice called out a familiar response.

“Who’s there?” The words left a sinister silence after they were spoken.

“gimme my possum back, lady!” Red was in no mood for knock-knock jokes.

The chiming laughter from behind the door was tinged with madness now. “Give me my possum back who?”

“you,” snarled Red. “you gimme my possum back.”

Nobody answered. Red stood dumbfounded in the snow, Gloomfanger and her six unstolen little ones standing in a half-circle behind him. Unsure what to do next, Red pulled out his phone and called his brother for help.

Beyond the door, Toriel, the missing Queen, scooped Rubbish up and cradled him in her arms. The drowsy baby possum snuggled against her chest, letting her heartbeat lull him to sleep after the exertion or romping with his siblings in the snow. His prehensile tail, bright pink and hairless, curled around her wrist like a living bracelet.

“Let’s go to my house, my child,” the unhinged monster crooned. “I’ll bake you a pie, and you’ll be so happy that you’ll never leave me.”

Neither Gloomfanger nor her children had ever been known to turn down a free meal, so when Toriel deposited the little possum onto her kitchen table and began assembling ingredients, Rubbish tucked his feet underneath him and took a quick nap in the loaf position that he had learned from Doomfanger. Toriel hummed as she baked, and the kitchen became pleasantly warm, though the fragrance of baked goods was nowhere to be found.

When the timer on the oven chimed, Rubbish opened his shiny black eyes, watching Toriel don oven mitts and retrieve the pie. She placed it on the table in front of him. The crust appeared to be made of mud like substance, most likely mud by the smell of it. Snails, stunned by the heat of the oven, recovered themselves and attempted to crawl away from their pie pan prison.

Fortunately, possums regard snails as a delicacy, and Rubbish unfolded himself from his loaf position and trotted across the table to hunt the sluggish creatures. Toriel beamed at him like any proud mother would at a precocious child crunching up all of his snails at dinnertime. After Rubbish had finished his snail snack and groomed his long whiskers, Toriel picked him up and carried him into the den. Sitting in front of the fireplace, she opened a photo album, showing the pictures to Rubbish and describing them one by one.

“This is my first child, Asriel, and my adopted child, a human called Chara. They’re dead now, of course.” Toriel spoke in a cheerful voice despite her macabre words. “This child came along later. I found her in the Ruins, but she’s dead now too. My husband killed her, you know. I decided to move to the Ruins to make sure no other young ones would meet the same fate, but they all do, my child. They all do. All my children leave me no matter what I do to stop them.” Toriel stroked the pages of the photo album wistfully, lost in memory. Rubbish put his small pink paw over her hand as if consoling her.

“I even tried training my children so that they would be strong enough to defeat my husband and escape,” Toriel whispered conspiratorially. “Alas, that child also died.” Toriel remembered the scorch marks, all that remained of that particular child, and how long it had taken to scrub them from the cobblestones of the Ruins. No need to worry her newly adopted possum with that detail. Rubbish would not ever leave. She would see to that. Doors weren’t only for keeping unwanted visitors out…

Outside, in Snowdin Forest, the skeleton brothers sent flurries of futile bone attacks smashing into the door to the Ruins. They even summoned their Gast Blasters with equally nonexistent results. These doors were meant to stay closed, and stay closed they did. Gloomfanger was equal parts unimpressed by Red and Edge’s magic and dauntless when it came to recovering her lost little one.

Assembling her seven tiny troops, Gloomfanger walked right up to the heavy doors, gave them a precursory sniff, and began to dig. The possum excavated the frozen ground like a piece of heavy construction equipment being expertly operated by a seasoned professional, and her babies pushed the freshly turned soil out of the way to make room for more. In a matter of minutes, Gloomfanger and her brood had disappeared into the tunnel under the door on their rescue mission, leaving the skeleton brothers standing slack-jawed with amazement in the forest behind them.

When she emerged in the Ruins, Gloomfanger shook the loose dirt from her coarse salt-and-pepper fur. She helped each of her seven babies out of the tunnel, giving them a quick grooming as well. Once all eight possums were suitably presentable, they stormed the proverbial castle, seeking out the Queen who had possum-napped Rubbish.

Toriel faced down the mother possum who had entered her home, seven small soldiers trailing behind her; the former Queen was not a monster to be trifled with. Gloomfanger’s tail shot straight up in the air, she opened her jaws- a pink cavern lined with needle teeth like white stalactites- and emitted an unearthly screech. Rubbish waddled over to her, and she calmed down, chattering at him and checking him for injuries or poor grooming. Toriel’s face softened. She recognized a distraught mother when she saw one.

Toriel backed away, resigning herself to losing this latest adopted child as well. Gloomfanger darted in front of her, meeting dejected yellow eyes with her own glittering black gaze. She clicked her teeth at Toriel, then led her entire brood of baby possums over to climb on the goat monster’s robes. Toriel shuffled to her armchair, and the parade of possums followed.

When Toriel brought out her photo album, every single possum found a perch on her lap or shoulders (with Rubbish in the seat of honor atop her head) and basked in the dancing light and comforting warmth of the fire. Toriel poured her heartache out to the animals, and they listened with quiet compassion. Finally, the Queen closed her book and sighed.

“So you see, my children, you must stay with me,” she explained gently. Gloomfanger lifted her head and chuffed. As Gloomfanger rose from her seat, her brood of baby possums followed. Gloomfanger led them single file to the tunnel under the door, the tunnel that led out of the Ruins, out of Toriel’s life, and into the forest which had claimed so many of her charges.

“No,” begged Toriel. “If you leave me, I’ll be alone.”

Gloomfanger tilted her head in the universal animal sign of confusion, then vanished into the tunnel, followed by her little ones.

Toriel returned to her empty house, numb. She had not stopped Gloomfanger because Rubbish and his siblings were her rightful children, yet their loss left Toriel cold and empty, just like her house. Toriel extinguished the fire, preferring to sit in the encompassing darkness, the shadows wrapping her like a shroud while she wept. Everyone always left her in the end, and boss monsters did not fall down. She would exist in this misery and loneliness until time forgot her as the rest of monsterkind had.

The next day, despite Red’s disapproval, Gloomfanger and the Gloomy brigade tagged along with him to his sentry station. Red sat on the bench with a meaningful look at the possum, but she kept waddling along, babies in tow, towards the door to the Ruins. Red hurried after them just in time to see them entering the tunnel. Red shouted after them, but the last tiny pink tail tip had already disappeared from sight.

Toriel snapped out of her cataonic depression when she felt tiny paws patting at her legs. Nine angular faces stared up at her. She leapt from her chair and headed to the kitchen to prepare her children one of her famous pies. She referred to it as Butterscotch Pie, but Gloomfanger and her babies knew snails when they smelled them… not that they minded. After wolfing down as many snails as nine eternally hungry possums could eat, the visitors followed Toriel into her den to enjoy the fire and listen to the tragic stories that accompanied the appearance of the photo album.

Once more, Gloomfanger and her babies returned home to the skeleton brothers’ house in Snowdin, and once more, Toriel despaired. The pattern continued for weeks. Toriel’s nerves frayed. Each time the possum and her brood left the Ruins, the missing Queen believed that they would never return, yet they did. As time passed, Toriel began to expect the visits. At first her mind anticipated the visits with the bleak notion that surely they would stop at some point. Eventually, she was able to look forward to seeing her small, furry children without the nagging doubts.

One day, during the photos-and-bereavement session, Gloomfanger pointedly knocked the photo album to the floor. She waited, with her babies behind her until Toriel stooped to pick it up then waddled very slowly toward the tunnel that the possums used to travel between the Ruins and the forest. Curious, Toriel followed them, and this time, the baby possums trailed behind her instead of their mother.

When Gloomfanger reached the tunnel, she stopped. Toriel stopped too and stared at the possum. Gloomfanger turned to the giant door with its elaborate embellishments, puffed out her fur and hissed at it. Toriel and the young possums stood in contemplative silence for a moment. “What are you trying to tell me, my child?” Toriel finally asked, though she already suspected what the possum’s intentions might be.

Gloomfanger headbutted the door.

“You believe that I should leave the Ruins and return to a life amongst other monsters,” Toriel stated uneasily. It wasn’t a question, but Gloomfanger answered with an encouraging chirp anyway.

Toriel turned her attention to the photo album clutched in her hands. She had fled to the Ruins to escape from grief and loss, but heartache pursued her, even here. Isolation had done her no favors.

“I can’t face them,” she explained, voicing her fears aloud for perhaps the first time ever. “I can’t bear their pity or their heartless violence.” After spending so long convincing herself that constant abandonment and endless longing were her punishments for her failures as a mother, she did not know how to think differently. Gloomfanger, ever the wise and perceptive possum, trotted over and nuzzled Toriel’s leg.

Toriel’s troubled mind spun. She could choose. She could choose to hold on to her losses, to martyr herself by suffering alone until that torment consumed everything she ever was or dreamed to be, or she could choose to let go. She could choose to move forward. She could reintegrate herself into monster society. She could risk heartbreak, but she could also regain companionship to balance it.

Gloomfanger waited. Slowly, hesitantly, Toriel laid her photo album down on the smooth, familiar stones, giving the faded cover one last caress, then the goat monster faced the door, pushed it open with conviction, and stepped out into the cold Snowdin Forest sunlight.

Hope can be found in the unlikeliest places and in the most unusual forms. Some hold hope deep inside of them where it can never be lost or broken, and some look for it all of their lives without realizing that it's right there in front of them. The monsters of the Underfell Underground lacked all hope, inward and outward, until it arrived in the form of an unkempt, garbage-eating possum named Gloomfanger.

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[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible - Chapter 7

Pairing: Eric Northman x reader

Warnings: canon typical

A/N: Why yes, all the things do happen in this chapter. It’s a long one. Enjoy. 

***

Your phone ringing around noon a couple of days later was not how you wanted to wake up. Especially after staying up until sunrise talking to Eric. You sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand down your face as you answered. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Sam.”

You grunted in acknowledgement. “What can I do for you?”

“Actually, we’re a little short handed around here. I was sort of hoping you could help us out tonight.”

You glanced at Eric sleeping behind you. He would be annoyed, but he could just deal with it. You needed to check in with Sookie anyway.  “Yeah, sure, Sam. No problem.”

He huffed out a breath. “Thank you. You’re a real lifesaver.”

“So, I’ve been told.” You hung up and shifted so your back was leaning against Eric’s headboard. He’d brought you to his house to stay due to your lack of furniture. And while you’d fallen asleep in his arms every night, that and a few kisses were the extent of your intimacy. Well, that and the blood exchange. On some levels that was more intimate than intercourse. You brushed Eric’s hair back and ran your gaze over his face.

A week ago, you would have thought waking up beside him ever again an impossibility. You weren’t about to take the time with him for granted. Never again. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes as you ran through the list of things you needed to do. Your father had finally arranged for someone to deliver your furniture and Eric was having someone meet them so you didn’t need to be there. There were some things left in your apartment you wanted. A couple of hours and you could probably have it all packed up. You might as well get it over with.

You got dressed, opting for wearing the dress shirt Eric had worn the night before and your jeans. Sam could just deal with you not wearing the Merlotte’s uniform. You’d probably be behind the bar anyway. You jotted off a quick note to Eric and headed out the door.

***

As you’d predicted it didn’t take long for you to pack the rest of your things. The furniture and things you didn’t care for, you left for Sam. He could get more renting out a furnished apartment anyway. You’d loaded everything in the cab of your truck and grabbed a couple of more hours of sleep before heading into the bar.

Sam frowned at your clothes but didn’t say a word. Smart man. You were filling in where needed for the night, switching roles if necessary.

Sookie greeted you with a grin and a hug. “Y/N, it is so good to see you. It’s a great day. Isn’t it a great day?”

You lifted a brow and your lips twitched. Your gaze landed on the scarf at her neck. Bill. As much as you disliked the man, as long as he was making Sookie happy, you’d cut him some slack. “I missed you. How have you been?”

“Just fabulous.”

“Well, aren’t you in a good mood,” Arlene said as she joined the conversation.

“Yes, I am.” Sookie grabbed her tray and spun away, her hips swinging as she went. Sam and Arlene both looked from her to you.

You shrugged. “What? I just got here. I know nothing.”

The door opened to the bar opened and three of the biggest jackoffs in Bon Temps walked through the door. Sam must have noticed the look on your face because he turned to see them as well.

“Shit. Cover the bar, would you?” He hurried off to intercept Lafayette without waiting for your response.

You glanced beneath the bar to make sure the baseball bat was still where you’d last seen it and pulled a beer for the customer at the end of the bar. At least you wouldn’t be bored.

***

“Sookie has been with that vampire,” Arlene told her boyfriend instead of delivering the two beers you’d pulled for her.

“Ah, that’s just bar talk.”

“She told me so herself.”

Well, that certainly got Sam’s attention. Your jaw tightened but you stayed quiet. For the moment. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes when Arlene mentioned Sookie getting pregnant and babies with fangs. Seriously?

Sam ripping the scarf from Sookie’s neck was your cue to get involved. You grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him away from her even as she shoved him. You watched silently as she said her piece. She was right it wasn’t anyone’s business what she got up to with Bill. And as much as you liked Sam, he hadn’t bothered to make a move until someone else was interested so he could go to hell too.

When she stormed off, Sam turned to you. “You can’t honestly tell me you’re okay with this?”

You smirked and flipped the collar of Eric’s shirt to the side so the bite on your neck was visible. “Course, I haven’t fucked mine. Not lately anyway. But she’s right. It’s none of your business. She was in a good mood. Why’d you have to bring her down? You really suck sometimes, Sam.”

You went back to your spot behind the bar, ignoring the eyes now fixated on you. If it took some of the attention off Sookie, so much the better.

***

Eric tapped his fingers against his thigh. He wanted to call you. Or at least send a text just to make certain you were all right. Which was stupid. He could feel you. He knew you were fine if slightly irritated. He also knew you were in Bon Temps right where you’d told him you’d be. No, the truth was, he missed you. Now that you were back in his life, he wanted you by his side where you belonged.

Pam appeared beside him and leaned one arm on the back of his chair. “Having fun yet?”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Always.”

“I may be able to brighten your evening. See the blonde male by the bar? The sweaty, nervous one?”

Eric ran his gaze over the crowd. “The one that is obviously detoxing?”

She made a sound of agreement. “Name’s Jason Stackhouse. He’s Sookie’s brother.”

“And why do I care?” Pam wasn’t one for idle conversation so there was obviously a point to this.

“Because, if I recall correctly Y/N said she was hit because emotions were running high. And as he’s here looking for V, he would have been strong enough to leave that bruise.”

Eric leaned forward in his seat, all of his focus now on his target. “I’ll be in my office. Bring him to me.”

***

You handed Sookie a pitcher of beer for the three assholes and watched her as she went to deliver it. As you predicted, they immediately started to give her shit about Bill. Before you could intervene, the front door slammed open and the three figures that entered drew everyone’s attention.

These three were trouble. You’d looked into them after Sookie had an encounter with them at Bill’s house. Malcolm, Liam and Diane. Their only purpose here would be to cause trouble. You undid a button on your shirt and pulled the collar wide so Eric’s bite was on display. If they knew what was good for them, they wouldn’t fuck with you. Somehow you doubted things would go that smoothly.

The three of them slunk around the bar like the slime they were. Diane got in one of the customers faces and Sam stepped out to confront them.

“Get us three True Blood’s,” Malcom ordered no one in particular.

The only person that moved was Sam who took a step forward. “You need to leave. This is a family establishment. Locals only.”

While Malcom explained that they’d just bought a house in the area, you grasped the handle of the bat beneath the bar and pulled it out. Resting it on your shoulder, you stepped around the end of the bar and onto the floor. Liam’s gaze followed you the entire time.

You merely lifted a brow and gave him a nod. He didn’t scare you.

“Discrimination against vampires is punishable by the law in the great state of Louisiana,” Malcom said in response to Sam telling him to leave a second time. “Not that I give a fuck, but I am thirsty.”

“He’s telling you to leave because you’re an asshole. Not because you’re a vampire,” you piped up to draw his attention to you. “Discriminating against assholes isn’t against the law. Though, I wish he’d do it more often.”

All three vampires put their full attention on you. Malcom opened his mouth to respond but Sookie caught his attention first. He gasped. “How nice to see you again, Sookie. You are looking delectable as always.” He sauntered toward her, ignoring you completely. Obviously, he didn’t consider you much of a threat.

Idiot.

You allowed his moment of…whatever the fuck he was doing with Sookie. She’d only get pissed if you intervened before she needed it.

“I am his,” she declared and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. She had no idea what that meant. Not really.

“Well, he’s not here, is he?” Malcom said with a tilt of his head. “And when Bill is away, Malcom will play.” He extended his fangs and you moved forward. You placed the end of the bat on his chest and pushed him away from her.

“That’s not how that works and you know it. Behave.”

He snarled. “And just who are you?” He glanced at his companions and huffed a laugh. “And just what do you think you’ll be able to do with that?” His hand grabbed the end of the bat and shoved it aside.

You allowed him to do so. “My name’s Y/N and you’d be surprised.”

“Well, Y/N, I’m going to drain you so slowly, you’ll be begging me to kill you.” You weren’t impressed.

Suddenly, Terry Bellefleur charged forward and was tossed through the air for his efforts. He slammed into the ground. Sam grabbed a pool cue and broke it over his knee.

Malcom pointed at him. “You are a dead man.”

“Sam.”

His gaze shifted to you. Apparently, he understood what you were trying to tell him because he smirked. “Maybe so, but you’ll have to go through her first.” He tossed you the cue and you dropped the bat to snatch it from the air.

***

Eric leaned against the front of his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. It didn’t take long for Pam to appear with the human. He stank of desperation and Eric’s lip curled in response.

“You, uh, wanted to talk to me?” His gaze darted around the room, never settling anywhere for long.

Eric dismissed Pam with a lift of his chin. When she’d left the room, he gestured to one of the chairs in front of him. “Sit.”

“I’m good.”

Was this human always this oblivious or was it worse because he was in need of a hit? Eric sincerely hoped it was the latter. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Oh.”

The other man sat and Eric moved around his desk to take his own seat. He folded his hands together and leaned forward. “I understand you know Y/N Y/L/N.”

Stackhouse licked his lips. “Yeah. Kind of, I guess. She’s friends with my sister.”

“Well, I have a problem with Ms. Y/L/N that I’m hoping you can help me with. Maybe then we can help you with your little problem.” Eric maintained the neutral expression he’d spent centuries perfecting.

The man in front of him leaned forward eagerly. “Sure. Anything.”

“She has a bit of a reputation as a troublemaker. When she came to the bar the other night, she had a bruise. Here.” He ran his finger across his cheek to indicate where her injury had been. “I’m certain she was causing trouble but I could get her to admit to nothing. Do you happen to know what happened?”

Stackhouse huffed and waved a hand through the air. “That was me. She wouldn’t let me in my gran’s house to talk to Sookie. Ain’t nothing for you to worry about.”

Eric gripped the other man by the throat and lifted him into the air before he could even blink. “You dare?”

Wide confused eyes were the only answer as hands gripped Eric’s wrist, looking for mercy.

“You dare touch what doesn’t belong to you?” He wanted to snap his neck. It wouldn’t take much effort. A twist of the wrist and this human would bother you no more. But something told him you wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. In fact, you were likely to make his life hell for even considering it. Eric released his grip.

Stackhouse fell back in his chair. His feet scrambled trying to put more distance between him and the vampire before him but there was nowhere for him to go. Eric simply looked at him with the same blank expression as always.

“As she didn’t kill you herself for the indiscretion, I can only assume she wishes you alive for some reason. If you touch her again, I won’t care. Do you understand?”

He nodded frantically. “Yeah, yeah. I understand.”

Eric placed his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned into the other man’s space. “And as for the vampire blood, if I even catch a whisper that you tasted it, I will remove your balls with a rusty spoon. And I have ears everywhere.”

Eric couldn’t refrain from smirking when Stackhouse folded in on himself. His hands covered his groin on instinct. The vampire straightened and took a step back. “Remove yourself from my bar, Mr. Stackhouse, and don’t bother coming back.”

If the man moved any faster, Eric would have thought him a vampire. A beat later, Pam stepped into the office with an amused look. “I take it the conversation went well.”

He hummed in agreement just as a flash of emotion went through him. Anger and anxiety with a dash of fear. You were in trouble.

***

Liam charged and you spun away, tripping him in the process. You shoved the stake into his chest, purposely missing his heart. He stared at you in confusion as he gasped in pain. You kicked Diane, sending her stumbling back when she came to his rescue.

Malcom took advantage of the distraction she posed and grabbed the cue from your hand. He launched it across the bar and it embedded in the wall. When you swung at him, he grasped your wrist and squeezed. If you’d been fully human, it would be broken. He pushed you backward into the bar, his free hand on your chest.

“Stop this.” Bill had apparently arrived.

Neither you or Malcom were impressed. He glanced over his shoulder at the other vampire. “Not now, Bill. I’m having a conversation. Don’t interrupt.”

Malcom turned back to you, his fangs fully extended. You’d expected him to be furious but he looked more intrigued than anything. He let go of your wrist and gripped your chin. He turned your head to the side to expose the line of your throat. “Is this Bill’s work as well? Has he been greedy with the local offerings?”

You scoffed. “Fuck Bill. And fuck you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Oh, I’m counting on it, sweetheart. But you really must tell me who you belong to. After all, I’ll need to offer my condolences.”

“That would be me.”

Malcom went still and you grinned. Eric always did have impeccable timing. He released you and took a step back, his hands held up as he turned to face your vampire. Eric looked past him to run his gaze over you. You gave him a little wave and his lips twitched.

“Why, Eric, it is lovely to see you again.” That false placating voice rubbed your nerves raw. “I wasn’t aware you were claiming your food now. Had I known—”

“Y/N is my mate.”

The other vampires in the room shifted their gazes between the two of you. Mates were rare. Rarer still that both parties weren’t vampires. You were just as shocked as they were but you did a better job of hiding it. At least you hoped so. Not that it mattered. Eric would feel it through your bond. But damn it, he couldn’t just spring shit like that on you. Stupid vampire.

“Why are you bothering these people? You’ve been warned about this behavior before,” Eric said, shifting the focus off your relationship.

“We were just saying hello to the new neighbors. That’s all.” Malcom’s voice had lost its confident edge.

Eric’s jaw was tight and you knew he was biting back much of what he wanted to say. He needed to placate the humans in the bar, but they didn’t need to know details. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow. Bill will accompany you to ensure you don’t get lost on the way home.”

Bill stepped away from Sookie’s side with a nod. The four vampires headed toward the door, not bothering to look anywhere but at their sheriff. Eric stopped Malcom with a hand on his arm as he passed by. He lowered his voice but you could still hear him, though you doubted most of the humans could. “If I were you, Malcom, I would do my best to ensure I didn’t fuck this up anymore than I already had.”

Malcom didn’t respond beyond jerking his arm away and following the others outside. Eric crossed the bar in several long strides until he was standing beside you with his arm around your shoulders. “I apologize for the disturbance, everyone. I assure you that they will not bother you again.”

“Everyone go back about your business. Next round’s on the house,” Sam announced as he came over to the two of you.

“Eric, this is Sam Merlotte. He owns the bar. Sam, this is Eric Northman, he owns Fangtasia,” you introduced them.

“And you, apparently,” Sam added with a look of distaste.

You straightened your spine. “Really, Sam? Who do you think you’re talking to? After everything…No, you know what. Forget it. It’s not even worth it. You’re welcome by the way, you ungrateful bastard.” You stepped behind the bar and grabbed your bag. “I’ll see you later, Sam. Sookie.”

Eric wore an amused grin as he fell into step behind you and followed you out the door.  

[lastluvbug]

Okay I've got another one! How do you think Leona, Vil, Rook, Idia and Malleus would react if their fem reader asked them to dress up as the beauty and the beast for Halloween BUT! She wants to be the fem!beast and them as the male! beauty. Will they agree? And how will they dress up? Thanks!

Is This My Trick? (Feat. Leona, Rook, Vil, Idia, and Malleus)

Rook Hunt-

How fun! You want to dress up as the beast to his beauty? He’d agree without a second thought, believing you to be beautiful no matter what you wear.

He’d sweep you into the bathroom, where you two would do the other’s makeup and hair, a sweet melody of compliments streaming from Rook’s lips as he played with your locks, and you his. Let’s say only one of you took the night seriously, and it wasn’t Rook.

You’d given him a wide smokey eye, blended with a little gold to flatter his hair color. For a little extra pop, you painted his lips with a clear gloss, and his cheeks with a fair anount of blush, making him look more princess-like than princely.

There wasn’t much you could with his hair, so you settled instead with curling it slightly, giving him waves instead of the pin straight bob everyone knew.

His outfit was fantastically flamboyant; an indigo colored overcoat with a tail that split into two ends, with matching colored trousers leading to black dress shoes. A vertically striped vest was beneath, covering a button up white dress shirt, a blood red bow tied around his neck.

“You’ll be almost as spectacular as Vil when I’m done!” He’d clap as soon as you were done marveling at him. And with that, he set to work.

He’d tease you mercilessly, throwing you for loop after loop as he sung little rhymes laced with complex adulation, just to turn around and lightly poke fun at you. At first, he painted on a cute little button nose over yours, with whiskers flaring out over your cheeks, biting his lip as he tried and failed to muffle his laughter at your shocked face.

Wiping it off, he’d truly go all out, giving you the face you desired after you shrugged on your dress.

It was so spot on, you almost questioned if he’d done something like this before. Your eyes had been framed in a dusty black eyeshadow, creased with white to bring out your elongated lashes. Your face had been shaped with blends of browns, blacks, and white, making your cheekbones and jawline appear sharper, the makeup around you nose connecting down to your lips in a V shape.

Your dress was almost as exquisite. Long sleeved with mesh gloves, it was an ombré of blue to black, coming to a soft v-neck across your chest that was half concealed with the same mesh as your gloves. The skirt was knee length, folding over itself to create the twirling look. And, to point out your waist, a thin black belt looped around you, the same color as your boots.

As soon as you were done thanking him and gushing over your makeup, Rook bowed as he laughed, extending a hand towards you.

“Your beauty far surpasses that of a beast, but just for the enchantment of the night, let us play the roles of prince and cursed princess! We shall sweep the crowds off their feet!”

Vil Schoenheit-

Excuse me? Did—Did he just hear you correctly? You want to dress as a beast for Halloween? No, absolutely not!

It doesn’t matter how much you beg or ask, his answer remains a solid no. He can’t afford to be unsightly, and neither can you. Though, he can’t help but feel bad when you disappointedly walk away, so he comes up with a compromise.

He’ll take your hand and lead you into his extremely large bathroom, and as soon as the perfumey smell hits your face, you know something is about to happen. “I can’t allow you to walk out of my dorm looking like a beast, but I can allow you this very special offer,” he’d say curtly, sitting down before his mirror, “only for tonight, you have permission to do what you please with my cosmetics. Do it well enough, and I’ll give you the opportunity to style my hair.” He’d grin, reaching for his makeup remover to give you a clean slate to work with.

You were ecstatic. Vil never let anyone into his room, let alone do his makeup! You eagerly set to work, using his brand name materials and trying to keep yourself from bursting.

It was a little insufferable, as Vil would criticize you ever two minutes over the way you held the eyeliner, and how hard you were pressing against his skin, and—oh, for the love of the queen, stop shaking!

At the end, he deemed it of passing quality before allowing you to style his hair, of which you accepted without question. You were quite proud of how it all turned out at the end, and honestly, you didn’t really care what Vil thought.

You’d given him a thick cat eye, using a black mascara to extend his lashes and bring out the highlight of the look; the golden eyeshadow. You’d picked up a few tricks here and there, and had executed a flawless glittery eyeshadow that blended into a dark crease, the vibrant color dotting the inner area while circling under the eye. You went plain with his hair, styling it into a sleek looped updo and letting down a few strands of hair to finish it off.

Vil was in charge of dressing himself, which he’d done prior to your little makeup adventure. He’d chosen to wear a jacket of stark white, a black silk button up shirt under and a frilly cravat tied around his neck. He’d slipped on a pair of lace cuffs, the thin mesh falling around his hands, similarly to the way his white trousers fell over his golden heels, risen a good five inches from the floor.

“Don’t worry dear, you’ll be the starlight bright princess to my prince soon.” He’d smile, raising your hand to his lips as you resisted the urge to kiss him right there.

He’d use a gross amount of pink shaded items, some for only a second, and others for what felt like an hour. Though, after all of the materials had been piled onto the countertops, he’d announce that he was finished, much to your delight.

You were astounded by his skill, though really, what did you expect? This is the Vil Schoenheit, anything below exceptional was an insult!

He’d used a rose gold eye shadow to color your eyelids, darker towards the outer ends before shading into a more salmon-esque color. He’d used the tip of his finger to dab on silvery glitter, emphasizing the natural sparkle in your orbs. Your lips were covered with a petal pink, matching your dress, which of course Vil had chosen specifically for you.

It was more of a ball gown than a costume, with a billowing ankle long skirt and a tightly fitted bodice, flowy sleeves falling around your arms while nature-esque embroidery was threaded into the torso. You looked close to a fairy, practically radiating glitter and light as you excitedly clung to Vil’s arm, thanking him up and down.

“Anything for my little forest flower. As my princess, I promise you to give you an evening that will be magically gorgeous.”

(Of course, he wouldn’t really do anything. He has to keep his skin baby soft, and that hair? Oh honey, you wouldn’t know the half of it.)

Idia Shroud-

He’d be against it at first. He really didn’t want to leave the comfort of his room, especially on Halloween, where there’d no doubt be a huge party just waiting to grow his anxiety ten times bigger than usual.

Seeing your expectant face paired with Ortho’s encouragement was what broke him, though he was reluctant to dress up. “Babe... do I have to...? Can’t we just stay here?” He’d uselessly try as you’d pull him into the bathroom, Ortho bouncing happily after.

Neither of you listened as Ortho went searching through Idia’s closet, looking for the clothes to suit the occasion, while you pulled out your makeup, both of you smiling wickedly as Idia sweat dropped.

One busy hour later, Idia stood self consciously in the mirror, inspecting himself as you and Ortho made the room glow with your smiles.

You’d given his eyes a cut crease look, using a metallic blue-blended-with-gold to compliment his hair, as well as hide the bags created from too many night stayed awake playing video games. You’d chosen a mauve lipstick to match, making his lips appear full and plump.

Ortho dressed his older brother magnificently; he chose a pair of high waisted tights that hugged his hips and calves, four golden buttons glinting off the light. His shirt was rather decorative, with a frilly collar and chest, the sleeves flowing over his pale skin before being trapped in the tight wrist cuffs.

“Hmm...looks nice. But I’m not going to be the only one doing this.” He’d grin, mischief written on every frame of his face.

Against all of your protests, Idia would refuse to allow you do your own makeup. He’d snag your pallets and anything else you brought, laughing out loud when you finally sagged in defeat. In short, it was a mess.

The dress you wore, probably the only thing that wouldn’t draw a laugh from onlookers, was plain black, with a fitted off-the-shouldered top and lacy sleeves that wrapped around your arms. The asymmetrical skirt fell down to your calves, before looping back up to reveal your legs as it stopped around mid thighs. Your midnight shoes lifted you about three inches, though you were still shorter than Idia.

Now you’re makeup... that was a completely different story. Since Idia had insisted, he gave you a cute little pink nose, a line of black leading down to your lips that were colored a dark red, black dots sprinkled across your cheeks as a set of three whiskers flared out across each one.

Idia made you a cat! A cat’s not a beast, at least not usually!! When you complained, all he did was laugh and drape his arms around your shoulders in a hug from behind.

“Sorry... I just painted you as you are. You’re too cute to be a beast... I love you for it though.”

Leona Kingscholar-

No. No no no no. Nuh uh. No way.

He’d honestly be a little offended by the question, though he’d be a dead man before he let you know that.

“Isn’t the trickery supposed to wait until later?” He’d nonchalantly ask, tail whipping in the air. He may be a royal lion, but dressing in those tight clothes was an absolute no-no. He was the beast here, he even had the ears to prove it.

It would be near impossible to convince him, but after enough of your wide eyed attempts, he’d eventually break, allowing you to waltz him into the bathroom so you could tame that wild mane and dress him however you pleased. It took a long, long while before you finished, but it all was worthwhile in the end.

The result was breathtaking, in your opinion. You managed to tie Leona’s hair into a half-up half-down style, embellished with a rose pin, a simple product threaded into his locks to create waves and curls instead of the frizz you were so used to.

He was stuffed into a yellow blazer over a long sleeved white dress shirt, the laced cuffs brushing over the middle of his palms. To compliment, a pair of black pants with a gold strip down each leg followed, black dress shoes finishing the getup.

“If it were anyone else, they’d be running for the hills right about now. Let’s see how beastly you can be, my little mouse.” He’d growl, clearly unamused by your laughter as you ran a hand down his arm.

Leona would stand by, watching curiously as you transformed yourself into the beast to pair with his beauty. After you finished, he’d quite literally be speechless, even more so blown away by your choice of dress.

The makeup wasn’t anything special, you just used a little bit of eyeliner and black facepaint to paint over your nose, dragging a slim trail to your lips, which were covered in black lipstick. You used darker browns to blend around your cheekbones, and made your eyes look a touch larger than they were with a risky cat eye that paid off in the end.

Your dress was magical, to say the least. Floor length, with silky fabrics of gold and blue twisted into elegant arched and loops over the gown, the bodice fitted and off-the-shoulder to expose your collar.

By the time you were done, you caught Leona’s intense stare, maybe a hint of a blush darkening his already tan cheeks. When you said something about he, he’d merely pout before taking your arm and pulling you close, so that his cologne and your perfume mixed into an entirely new scent.

“I don’t know if I’d call you a beast, my beautiful little herbivore. Let’s go, I’d like to show off all this work. And for the record... you better give me my treat later.”

Malleus Draconia-

Oh? You want to dress up as a beast? He’d done his fair share of research on this human tradition, and had wanted to try it out for an embarrassingly long time, so he had no problems agreeing.

He didn’t have much of a designer’s touch, so he watched with an intrigued grin as you excitedly ran around gathering your materials. “Careful, we don’t want to waste that energy before the party, do we?” He’d laugh, sitting on the chair you brought and allowing you to do your work.

He was a little jumpy, but by the end, it didn’t matter as he marveled at the outcome of your delicate work.

You’d expertly woven his thin black hair into a loose braided crown that fell around his horns, half of it still cascading down his shoulders and shining in the artificial light. His eyes were rimmed thinly with eyeliner, accentuated with a dark eyeshadow.

He was dressed in a deep blue overcoat, a white button down dress shirt underneath. Around his neck was a pristine white cravat, the ends laced with black, matching his dress pants and shoes. It was rather simplistic, but suited Malleus all too well compared to his usual attire.

“Stunning. I can’t say I’m upset with how you’ve pampered me, dearest. What ever shall you do next?” He’d grin in a closed eye smile, sitting patiently as you worked on yourself.

You worked diligently, applying so many different types of makeup that he’d become a little dizzy trying to wrap his head around the names and colors. When you were done, you hardly looked like the same person. You’d used an assortment of greys and browns to rim your face, two lines cutting down your cheeks to create pronounced cheekbones. You’d painted your eyes in a thick layer of black, shimmery silver blended up to your eyebrows and highlighting your irises. Your lips were a delicious fuschia, so bright against the rest of your face.

Your dress was immaculate, a single shouldered black-and white apparel. The sleeve was made of a thin line of black lace shaped like various flowers, snaking over the colorless bodice and skirt before rounding over the hem. It was rather short, ending just above mid thigh, a calf high pair of strappy boots at least five inches tall doing basically nothing to promote your height compared to Malleus.

When you gave him a little twirl as you put away your cosmetics, he let his eyes wander over his every part of you, thoroughly enjoying the temporary view.

“My, my... You’re truly a sight, dearest. Come, let’s show them all the beauty that will surely make history.”

There we are! Honestly, it was so fun designing all these clothes, except Rook’s. Sorry loves, I had no brain juice left and could only think of his Ghost Marriage outfit.

Thanks so much for reading, and thanks to @blackstrawberrynightmare for the ask! I hope you enjoyed!

Stay lovely!

[purple-ktj]

AMAs Vlive

If I had to name one definitive moment or incident that confirms that I’m not just going crazy or being delusional about Taejin, I think this is it. The after AMA vlive. Most chaotic group vlive I’ve ever seen.

1. They’re all wearing their own clothes and only Taehyung and Jin are matching from head to toe. White collared button up shirts with ripped jeans. Even the rip looks similar. 

2. Jin was holding the camera but they passed it around few times so that the both of them were off screen. Namjoon had to hold the camera while they went off screen. (I love Jungkook’s face here lmao)

3. At exactly 4:51, on the original video on the Vlive app, Taehyung says “ppo ppo” to Jin very softly. 

For some context, they were talking about the after AMAs dinner party and how they said they’d go but ended up not going. And when they tried to point fingers at Jin he immediately went defensive in an adorable way and snapped (in a cute way of course) “You know I’m always up for food! I eat like a pig!”, not exact words but something along those lines. Apparently Taehyung found it extremely adorable and couldn’t hold himself back. In fact, it’s not the first time, he often has huge physical reactions to Jin’s aegyo whether on or off stage and sometimes has to hold back. Just like when people find something cute and they get frustrated over how cute it is? 

Then he immediately turned away and looked at Namjoon and whispers a “Sorry” right at 4:54. It was so soft and barely audible but he clearly whispered “mianhe”. (Use headphones and focus if you wanna hear) The camera was in Jin’s hand but it was loud enough for them that Yoongi and Jungkook heard it. Yoongi and Jungkook were visibly the most alarmed at the slip. Jungkook’s hands flew up and his face went “:O” directly at Taehyung. While Yoongi looked startled and sat up straight. His eyes also flitted to Taehyung for a sec. Jimin kinda froze for a second but he was facing down and tried his best not to look at Taehyung’s direction so he wasn’t too obvious. Namjoon looked like he was doubting whether he heard correctly or not. J-Hope seemed reaction less but his smile disappeared, he was just staring straight into the camera. Jin himself had a split second expression freeze but otherwise remained very calm.

4. The camera gets transferred to Namjoon who starts overreacting and it’s only the 5 of them on screen (similar to BV1 when he was acting to prank Taehyung who ‘lost’ his bag). Taehyung and Jin doesn’t re appear on screen for a long while after that. 

5. They quickly passed the camera to Jungkook, saying how each one will give a speech and then wrap it up. This was only 6 minutes into the vlive and they were already trying to wrap it up with individual speeches and moving the camera around. 

6. When the camera finally reaches Taehyung, they start teasing him. Jin cuts in and tells them to let him speak. 

7. When Jin gave his speech he starts with “I agree with what Taehyung said...” Also I have no idea what went on while the camera wasn’t on them. Then they pour some champagne, make a toast then end the vlive. Quite abruptly, in my opinion.  

So okay, he slipped while going on live with all his members. And asking for a kiss of all things. 

I think it’d be more useful to know the brief history of the members kissing each other for a better understanding and to put this moment into perspective:

-V-Hope kissed as a punishment while all the members watched and laughed in their earlier years. Personally it made me cringe a little as they were still very young and the atmosphere was kind of awkward even though it was supposed to be funny. 

-Jin kissed Namjoon on the cheek as a punishment while the rest laughed during the comeback show. (Ironically Jin himself wrote down the punishment hahaha) Both absolutely lost their shit while they forced themselves to get it done and over with. (Also Taehyung was visibly distressed by this moment)

-J-Hope and Jin accidentally almost kissed on stage in front of their audience on I think Armypedia or something, I can’t remember but everyone was amused and they themselves went wtf.

-Jungkook kissed Namjoon’s forehead as a cute joke and all of them laughed while Namjoon was shy and surprised at the sudden affection from their youngest. This one is ultra cute. 

-In the 5th Army kit, all of them kissed Taehyung’s head and cheek because Jin started it by kissing his hand. (Complete with the kissing sound with wet lips) Nobody laughed when Jin kissed his hand but everyone started giggling when the other members kissed him. Generally it was all cute because Taehyung is basically the baby of the group. 

-There was no clear angle of this moment but Jin kissed his cheek/forehead when Taehyung fell asleep during their rehearsals. Not a punishment or a joke, it was a backstage scene. 

-I don’t know if this can be counted but the blurry fancams of the Blanket Kick performance where I have no idea if they really did or it was just an act. (Highly likely just an act or it was a cheek kiss since they’re on stage BUT I really dunno. I mean, if they really did nobody would know and can’t confirm and most people won’t believe it anyway?)

-J-Hope smothered Jungkook with kisses on his neck when he said he was going to leave and they were so cute about it. Jungkook even went “ARRGGHH” but of course he actually loved it (It was light hearted and cute and funny and J-Hope was babying him)

-Weekly idol where Jungkook and J-Hope were forced to kiss each other’s cheeks as a punishment and both were cringing. (The suggestion even came from Taehyung. If I understand correctly, Jin was supposed to kiss either one of them when Taehyung stepped in and said they can just kiss each other instead so Jin gets away unscathed)

-Not a kiss but Jimin nuzzling or kinda booping Namjoon’s neck during their concert. 

- Taehyung nuzzling/sniffing Jungkook’s neck while he was singing during their concert with Jimin right beside. (They remind me of Vmin platonic soulmates but Jungkook is his bff soulmate number 2.)

Despite the heavy skinship and being extremely comfortable with each other physically, the members don’t kiss each other on the mouth for fun or because they find each other cute. I’ve read somewhere that in Korean culture, on TV, kissing is usually a punishment. It’s meant as a joke and to make others laugh. Remember the GDA interview where the lady asked Jin to kiss Taehyung on the cheek and the both of them absolutely went nuts saying “NOOOO I’M NOT DOING IT JUST BECAUSE PEOPLE WANT IT”? Another moment that puts this incident into perspective. I mean, that was a pretty big reaction towards something that could have been an innocent cheek kiss or even a light hearted joke. Otherwise a fairly common reaction would be to cringe or refuse with mild disgust (not actual disgust but you get what I mean, like the Hopekook cheek kiss on Weekly Idol). But well, Jin made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t do fanservice, and kissing Taehyung is not a joke, he will never do anything that would make him feel uncomfortable. 

But I still wonder how he managed to slip “ppo-ppo” right in the middle of a vlive while he was looking at the camera no less. What gets me the most is him asking for the kiss. And the members reactions- they were so caught off guard and had to quickly train their expressions back to normal. If it could be passed as a joke, Jin could have followed through with just kissing him on the cheek or even just telling him off nicely. But the fact that Taehyung asked for it in such a soft voice and then apologized on the spot; tells me he wasn’t asking for a cheek kiss and he definitely wasn’t joking. I assume he wanted a peck on the lips, based on the explanation of “ppo-ppo” above, or really just a kiss and that’s his cute way of asking. My guess is he was just really really happy and sort of in his own world for a while that even though he was looking at the camera, he wasn’t focused at all and said it. Kind of sounds like something he said out of habit? The way Jin was all calm about it reminds me that his old nickname is “ctrl-v” and he’s used to Taehyung’s sudden moods and unexpected requests. He’s not even really that surprised except for a split second expression freeze but otherwise he turns back to the conversation very normally. 

A bit off point but - During their DNA Comeback show, Jin climbed into Taehyung’s bed like it was the most natural thing for him to do saying “If you wanna wake him you gotta join him”. And the moment he did Taehyung was completely focused on him and tried to pull him closer but Jimin joins them in the middle. I can’t help but think Jimin was there to stop them from getting too close while they filmed. 

In any case, he immediately realized he ‘screwed up’ and he says sorry to the other members. (Honestly they could have just kissed and I really wouldn’t mind watching it lol) As always I’d say use your own judgement but what do others think of this moment? For better effect, watch this then watch So What and Pied Piper. 

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming Pt 35

CW: Noncon - Pain - Petplay - Manipulation - Abuse

Eos

"Has everything been filed correctly?" Eos looked at the man fidgeting in his seat. He was the man her family tended to rely on when it came to securing their slaves and making transactions. Though she was very close to replacing him.

"Yes, Mistress Eos." He said as he flipped through the papers again. "It cost quite a bit to do it, but we have Calidora registered to you as a pony. Her job registration, as always, can be changed if you end up not finding her suited to the role."

"Good." Eos sat back in her chair and relaxed. She wanted to cut off as many loose ends as she could. It was important that Z could find no loophole to grasp. I wanted them both to suffer.

A knock echoed through the room and the maid opened the door. Mimi was standing on the other side, her hand still awkwardly raised to knock again. As always, she was dressed in her pink uniform and trying to balance on her ballet boots. Despite the time she had spent on them she could never seem to balance in place for long. Not that Eos was in a hurry, Mimi was never going to wear any other kind of shoe again. Eventually she would walk perfectly, even if it took years.

"What is it, Mimi?" Eos raised her eyebrow, surprised and annoyed at the interruption.

"My apologies, Mistress Eos." She did her best to curtsy, a herculean task in what she was always dressed in. "Your niece was a tad… upset to have her plans tonight interrupted, but she has agreed to attend Lady Flora's birthday in your place as the Rosalind family's representative."

"Good. I never like having to see those two psychopaths, glad someone else has to play nice this year." Eos huffed and leaned back in her chair.

Rayne was a known monster, she never bothered to hide it. Flora kept up appearances in public, but anyone that knew her family knew exactly what she was like. In many ways she was worse than Rayne. Rayne was a prisoner to her whims and impulses. All the terrible things she did tended to just be things that popped into her twisted mind. But Flora had forethought. She knew what she was doing. She planned things out.

It was that planning that led to her horrible art pieces. Rayne was definitely more intimidating, but being targeted by her was a mercy. Rayne gave her targets a quick and excruciatingly painful death. Flora gave her targets an excruciatingly painful death, but made sure it lasted as long as possible.

"If it pleases you, I'll have the present you were planning on giving Lady Flora sent to Rhiannon so it can be given alongside the gift Rhiannon is picking up." Mimi tried to keep a pleasant look on her face. She had long gotten used to the people on the farm seeing her, but guests still made her nervous.

"Yes, yes. Have it sent. Maybe Rhiannon can make herself good for once. She's been nothing but a brat lately.” Eos waved Mimi away. She gave her owner an awkward curtsy and slowly walked away. Eos looked at the man sitting across from her and waved him away as well. “I think we’re done here, leave.”

After a stuttered farewell the man quickly left. Once she was alone she reached into her desk and pulled out a bottle of wine and a glass. She uncorked the wine and poured herself a glass, holding it up in a mock toast.

“To righting wrongs.” She said to herself with a smile. But before she could take a sip a beep came from the intercom on her desk.

“Mistress Eos?” Jude’s voice came over the intercom.

I sighed and put the glass down before pushing the button to speak. “What is it?”

“I apologize for th-” Jude began before being cut off.

“I asked what you wanted, not your apology. Why are you bothering me?” Eos felt herself getting irritated.

“Ap-” Jude started to apologize again before clearing her throat and just continuing. “Callidora appears to have woken up. Do you have any instructions on how to treat her right now?”

Eos looked up at the clock on the wall. It was getting late. New ponies were trained in the morning so they had as much of the day as they needed for their first marathon.

But Callidora had been sleeping all day.

“Start her on her introductory marathon. If she’s done before dawn she can have some sleep before her regular training begins with the rest of the ponies tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mistress Eos.” With that the intercom cut out and Eos was alone again.

She smiled and lifted her drink to her lips again. Today was truly a spectacular day. She put Z in her place and got the pony she had been planning on getting before Z sniped it from under her.

She was going to enjoy running it ragged.

Rayne

The doorbell rang out in harmony with the screams of a few maids who were struggling to stay on their feet. The ones who had their shock collars connected to the doorbell were the only ones permitted to scream like that, it helped us know when someone was at the door. We didn’t have visitors very often, but Flora’s birthday was the exception. They’d be feeling that shock dozens of times tonight.

I turned to go greet the arriving guests when an annoying obstinate voice decided to speak up. “I’m here to support Z. Nothing else.”

I turned around and smiled at Briar. “Sure. You’re sugar, spice and everything nice. All you want to do is help people, Dr. Briar. It’s why you joined the Society.” I turned back around and walked down the stairs before she had a chance to respond.

I stood at the end of the entrance hall so I could greet the guests as they arrived. Two maids stood by the door to open it whenever the doorbell rang. I sighed, it was going to be a long night. Though, the only thing that really mattered was whether Flora would have a good birthday or not. I could deal with a few guests. Probably.

The first arrival was Virgil Lurpeko. He was one of the Cerberus triplets and the son of one of the biggest families on the west coast. They siblings hated being mistaken for each other and modded themselves with different colors. Virgil had chosen red hair and eyes. He was followed close behind by two maids and a blond mutt in a red bitchsuit. One maid was holding the mutt on a leash, the other was carrying a present.

“Good evening, Master Rayne.” Virgil made a sweeping bow before straightening back up. “My father asked me to attend on his behalf as I am visiting the region.”

“I’m glad one of you could attend this year.” I tried to sound pleasant, but I didn’t try hard. The Lurpekos hadn’t sent a representative in two years to Flora’s birthday. “Maids are carrying around drinks. Place your gift on the table at the end of the room where we’ll be gathering in.” I gestured to a maid and she quickly approached and curtsied. “It will show you the way there. Make sure your mutt doesn’t make a mess or it might not be presentable for shows anymore.”

“Of course, Master Rayne. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He nodded and followed the maid out of the room.

Another round of screams rang out with the doorbell. The maids pulled open the doors and a small woman and her butler entered. The woman had a tight brown ponytail, shadbelly, jodhpurs, and some very flashy jewelry. She looked like she had been riding horses all day. She hadn’t put any effort into being presentable for this kind of occasion.

“Greetings, Rayne.” I felt my eye twitch as the brat forgot to use the honorific appropriate for someone speaking to those of higher importance. “I am Rhiannon, a representative of the Rosalind family. My aunt, Eos, ran into some unexpected problems this evening and she was unable to attend. I’ve been sent in her place. I have brought a present of my own, along with the present Eos was going to give Flora.”

Her butler stepped forward, two presents in his arms. I ignored him and kept my eyes on Rhiannon. “It’s unfortunate that Eos could not attend, Rhiannon. I’m surprised to see you here. You are on probation, are you not? I was under the impression the Rosalind family sent their children out of the region for their probationary periods.”

“I am and we do.” The brat had the nerve to sigh at my question, annoyed that she had to talk with me. “However since I'm not in the running to be the next head of the family I've just been sent to do my probation with a metalsmith of all things because Eos thinks bridging ties to the Gia family will help us get the highest quality of accessories made for our family’s show ponies.”

“I see.” I managed to stifle a smile as I looked at the line forming behind Rhiannon and smiled as I spotted Emerald Pluto, a real metalsmith unlike that hack that Rhiannon was doing her probation with. An idea began to form in my head. “Well, give Eos my best regards. Enjoy the party.”

I snapped my fingers and a maid came to take them away. Rhiannon held her nose up high as she left, just another mistake she decided to make. The problem with people like her was that they truly believed their family ties would keep them safe.

I turned to greet the next guest, but was interrupted by a commotion by the door. A small woman was pushing her way through the line. At first I was irritated, but as she got closer I recognized her. People change their appearances all the time in the Society, it could be easy to not recognize someone. She was wearing a surprisingly nice purple dress and had stark white hair. I couldn’t help but wonder who she stole the dress from.

A few of the maids looked nervous and moved to block her path, but I held up a hand and they backed off. “Scout, so glad you could come. I see you decided you couldn’t wait in line.”

“Apologies.” She made a sweeping, mocking, bow before straightening back up. I always liked her spunk. “I was just trying to get here as fast as I could. I didn’t want the party to have to wait for me. Besides, I wanted Flora to see her present as soon as possible so I can get the process started.”

Scout held up a folder that I pulled out of her hand. She let go with little resistance. It had profiles of some people in the surrounding cities. I smirked, Scout probably managed to get Flora a nicer gift than most of the people here. Her job was her namesake, she scouted out locations and people to abduct. She sold these profiles to members to help them get the best game out of the city before it was over hunted and capturing rights in the area were temporarily suspended to help avoid suspicion.

“These are wonderful, Scout. I’ll set these aside to show Flora tonight.” I tucked the folder under my arm before continuing. “Though perhaps you can help us with a bit of entertainment tonight. I have use for your other gifts.”

Scout flashed a smile and tilted her head. “Oh? What exactly do you need?”

“We’ll talk in a bit.” I snapped my fingers and another maid appeared to guide her through the mansion. She smirked at me before walking off with the maid.

Scout was one of the few people I’d tolerate this kind of behavior from. She was one of the few people who had no qualms about getting Flora and myself exactly what we wanted. Most of the requisition teams and scouts we tried to hire got nervous when we told them what we’d be doing to the people they captured. Their morals would suddenly surface. Luckily Scout had none and it was going to make this party quite a bit of fun.

Flora

Z stumbled around the room like a newborn fawn as I had her try on shoes. I had to keep lowering the heel until one of my maids finally found a suitable pair of pumps for her to wear. It wasn’t exactly elegant, but I didn’t want her knocking over any of the art or accidentally pulling things off the tables.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone have quite the issues you are.” I said, laughing a bit. “If one of my maids were having these problems I’d just make them a new art piece instead.”

“Apologies.” She sat down on a nearby stool and rubbed her temples. “I’ve never worn things like this before. I never exactly had much money to afford something as nice as this dress you’ve so kindly gifted me. The auction house only gave members of my rank one percent of what the slave we broke sold for. When Rayne graciously passed on her epithet to me I got fifty percent which allowed me to eventually leave and buy a house. Getting used to clothing for events like these was far down the list, partially because I never imagined I would be invited to something like this.”

I wasn’t surprised. Z was good at what she did, but no one could mistake her for high society material. That dress was probably the most expensive thing she had ever worn given the suit she arrived in may as well have been rags. Had my raindrop not given up her lovely epithet she’d still be living in the gutters. I had been livid that she had given it up at first, but the controversy of someone giving away their epithet had been quite entertaining. If anything it brought us more attention than when she had it.

I looked up at the clock, the party had technically started an hour ago. Though

Briar

The guests had poured in over the last half an hour. She recognized most of them, only the big names would get to come to a gathering like this. Many of them brought a slave with them. Some were accompanied by a maid or butler. They were kept busy catering to their owner’s every whim. They fetched food and drinks for their owners and held whatever was needed so their owners could keep their hands open. I watched Rhiannon drop an empty champagne glass to her floor, her butler reacting just in time to catch it.

Some brought their pets. I watched a man with fiery red hair accompanied by a dog girl in a red latex bitchsuit. For her to be at this event she must have been a prized slave, but that didn’t stop him from kicking her when he accidentally tripped over her. I looked away from the sight. Breaking people never bothered me really, it was the unnecessary cruelty that bothered me. Virgil was known for being fairly violent, a big departure from how his brothers operated.

People didn’t even bat an eye when he acted out like that. It was to be expected from members like him. A few people still approached and asked to pet his dog. She was smart enough not to make a scene as some random members stroked her hair, but she was obviously uncomfortable. Pets were always expected to be happy and outgoing, I doubt this one was going to escape a punishment for her demeanor once the party ended.

One of the odder sights was two short women running around the room. They were dressed similar to each other, though one was dressed in purple while the other in pink. Given their cavalier attitudes I assumed they were members until I saw they were wearing collars. I watched the one in purple bump into a guest who immediately grabbed onto her collar. At best I was expecting some fairly painful injuries. At worst… well it was the house of Rayne and Flora. I watched some of the crowd part as a rather large woman approached the man from behind. She towered over most of the people at the party. She wasn’t hard to recognize. Her name was Diana, she was another power player in the region. The man lifted his hand to hit the slave he was holding, only for Diana to grab his wrist before he could bring it down.

Based on the yell that resonated through the room she must have snapped his wrist. He let go of the slave's collar and turned around. After an awkward moment it appeared he was apologizing to her for what happened. Her maid quickly rounded up the two slaves and ushered them off to another corner of the room. After humbling himself to her she turned and walked off to join her slaves.

There were scenes like these happening all across the room. Powerful people making deals, flashing their status and enjoying the luxuries the Society afforded them. It was a typical Society party and this place was a powder keg. I knew Rayne and Flora well enough to know they were planning on lighting a fuse somewhere. I just didn’t know where.

A sudden hush fell over the crowd and I looked towards the staircase. Flora was walking down, Z following a bit behind. Most people didn’t recognize Z despite her epithet. I could hear the muted mutters of the crowd wondering who she was and why she seemed to have received special attention from Flora. Most people who knew the real Flora didn’t really want her attention, but making connections with her was a sure fire way to climb the ranks.

Rayne walked out of the crowd and climbed the stairs. She met Flora halfway down the stairs. She lifted Flora’s hand and gave it a kiss before joining her on the same step.

Flora looked at the crowd like a queen surveying her subjects. “Welcome everyone for attending my birthday party. It’s an event I obviously look forward to every year and I’m always glad to see familiar faces in the crowd.”

Rayne walked her the rest of the way down the stairs with Z following close behind. Once they were off the staircase Z was fairly well hidden behind the couple. “Last year I had a fantastic banquet. This year I decided on something a bit more low-key. Maids will be carrying various assortments of food and drinks around the room for the next hour or so. Feel free to eat, drink and congregate as you wish.”

On cue four doors leading into the room opened and two dozen maids entered carrying various trays of food and drink. I reached over and grabbed a drink off the tray of a passing maid and took a sip. I was going to need it.

“Let’s have a wonderful evening everyone! Let’s make it one every one of us is going to remember for years to come.”