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jeonggukookies · 4 years ago

Text

too young || five

summary: you learn about jungkook’s past, and jungkook and his daughter aren’t too happy about that

word count: 4,116

genre: parent!au, single dad!jungkook angst

one || two || three || four || five

As long as you could remember, Valentine’s Day was your favorite holiday. You just loved making cute valentine’s cards, colored paper hearts and making little mailboxes to put your candy in. Not only that, but you just loved your parents spoiling each other on that day whether it was doing cute things spontaneously or putting love poems on sticky notes every where around the house.

Valentine’s Day was just the day you wanted to be in love, but for the most part, you and your short term boyfriends never made it that long, so it was just mainly you working at schools, doing arts and crafts with the kiddos, spreading the love to them.

Today was different.

You invited all parents to come and help their child decorate their mailboxes, and you rescheduled any tasks or meetings that day as you wanted to spend the whole day visiting each classroom to see everyone’s progress and give candy out.

Wanting to spend the most time with Jules, you visited her classroom last. Her classroom was well decorated for the holiday. The color pink and red along with messages and puns about love and hearts were found everywhere.

Standing under the doorway, a smile appeared on your face once you saw Jules in Jungkook’s lap. She was laughing with her head tilted back as Jungkook traced his hand onto the cardboard mailbox. “Jungkook, why are you putting a hand turkey on our mailbox?!”

You talked to every student and parent in the class before taking a seat next to Jungkook. “I love the mailbox.”

“Do you want to put your handprint on it?” Jules asked as she put a heart shape lollypop in her mouth and snuck one into your pocket. “Me and Jungkook have more for you later, but don’t tell anyone.”

You smiled and grabbed a red marker from the table. “I would love to put my hand on the mailbox.”

“So I have some news,” Jungkook said as you pushed the marker lid off. “I have to leave a day early next week.”

Jungkook was going on a business trip overseas for a week, and during that week, Jules was going to stay with you. At first you didn’t understand why Jungkook was telling you, but once you realized it, you dropped the marker abruptly. “Wait, that means you won’t be able to be there with me when I meet the girls.”

“I’m sorry, but I promise Jin is going to make sure it all runs smoothly,” Jungkook reassured you, picking up the marker off the table. “We can wait till after you come back if you want.”

You shook your head, not wanting to wait any longer to meet them. It was bound to happen whether you liked it or not. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” He questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“I promise.”

After school, you spent the rest of Valentine’s Day making blanket forts and watching movies with Jungkook and Jules, and you knew that you could never get tired of this.

___________

“Uncle Jin!” Jules excitedly jumped up and down as Jin bent down and wrapped her arms around her. “I missed you!”

“It’s not as if I didn’t see you a day ago.” Jin pulled away, smiling. “Your cousin is waiting for you in her room.”

Jules hurried off to take off her jacket and rushed upstairs. “So you’re first meeting Taehyung’s wife first, then Jimin’s and then mine,” Jin quietly explained as he took your jacket along with Jules to put it on the coat rack. “Tae dropped her off first, so you can warm up to her. Jimin’s on his way to drop off Seo-yeon, and Su-ji is still at work and has to pick up tonight’s dinner.”

He gestured behind him with his eyes where Tae’s wife, Ji-Ho was. You were surprised by her appearance. She looked like a normal human being when the boys had described her similar to the evil queen from Snow White.

"She doesn’t look scary at all,” you whispered in a hushed voice. “Why did you guys try to scare me?”

“Ji-Ho, this is Y/N, Jungkook’s girlfriend. Ji-Ho came early, and we’re just talking about a book idea she has,” Jin said in his normal tone, ignoring the comment you made. “She wants to write a book about being able to forgive and forget.”

Sitting next to Jin on his white loveseat, you looked and smiled at Ji-Ho who was on the white sofa across from you two, staring at carpet, not meeting your eyes. “I didn’t know you wrote books. Why do you want to write a book about that?”

“The world is a cruel place where people hold grudges over trivial and dumb things. They say they forgive, but never forget. Teaching others and helping them learn to do that will make it seem like you’re mature and able to have peace with yourself,” she explained, now playing with her hands in her lap. “Why hold grudges when you can move on and not give them the power to think about them?”

“I suppose that you can be happier just living your own life when you focus on yourself and forget and forgive.” Jin shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you think that people who can’t forgive and forget are unhappy people?” You asked.

“Excuse me?” Ji-Ho asked, finally looking at you.

“I think what she meant to say is-” You cut Jin off.

“Personally, I think you only need to forgive someone and come to terms that not everyone or everything is going to work out in your favor. Forgetting it is like running away from your problems. It’s not going to go away just because you ignore or forget the feeling; you just will experience it again.” You shrugged your shoulders as Jin muttered an ‘oh god we’re dead’ under his breath. He was shaking in fear, worried about what you were going to say next and afraid of Ji-Ho’s reaction.

Ji-Ho scoffed. “What do you think about forgiving and forgetting then? You think we shouldn’t forgive and we shouldn’t forget?”

“No, I’m not saying that, and I’m not saying that you’re wrong either because I don’t think we should hold grudges,” you said slowly. “But maybe you can forgive and accept, but you can’t forget, so you can be able to learn and overcome obstacles like that to be a better version of oneself. Does that make sense?”

Ji-Ho scoffed, but this time, she smiled at you and looked at you with interest in her eyes. “What is your name again?”

“Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” She released a laugh, which startled Jin. “I think we’re going to get along perfectly fine.”

Ji-Ho did open up to you right away, talking about her interests and asking all about you as if she wanted to know every single detail. She was a lot like Taehyung, and you realized they truly were a perfect match for each other. They were both kind, observant and funny without even trying.

After twenty minutes, Seo-yeon and Su-ji arrived at the same time. Su-ji immediately went into the kitchen with some grocery bags as Seo-yeon took a seat next to Ji-Ho, smiling.

“Hi, how are you?” She asked, not giving you anytime to think or respond before talking again. “We heard so many great things about you, and I am so happy for Jungkook. It’s about time he finally found someone and that we’re able to meet her.”

Not knowing what to say, you laughed as your cheeks reddened. You weren’t really good at accepting compliments, but a part of you felt happy, knowing Jungkook was surrounded by people who loved him and wanted what was best for him.

“I got a charcuterie board for all of us,” Su-ji said out of breath, coming out of the kitchen. She placed the large plate on the coffee table in front of everyone and took a seat in between the other wives. “Hi, Y/N.”

Most of the dinner went well. It was basically like an interview where they were trying to see your strengths and weaknesses, but you still felt comfortable with them, talking to them.

“Can we see pictures of you and Jungkook?” Ji-Ho asked. You unlocked your phone and passed it to Jin’s wife as she sat in the middle and could show them. “It really sounds like you two are both happy and comfortable with each other.”

“It was really nice to meet you all,” you said as most of the plate was gone.

“You don’t have to lie to them,” Jin joked. “I know my presence is enough for you to enjoy.”

“No, I do mean it,” you reassured them just in case they didn’t take you seriously. “Jungkook talks about Jules and his support system all the time, and it warms my heart that you guys were there for both of them when they were struggling especially after their loss.”

“Oh?” The look of displacement was written all over Su-ji’s face. “You know about Sarah?”

“Yes,” you answered. “Is that a problem?”

“If you want me to be honest, I never thought Jungkook would see anyone after Sarah’s passing,” Jin’s wife absentmindedly said, thinking it was a compliment. In the corner of your eye, you can tell Jin was giving her a warning glare as if he didn’t want her to say anything else to you.

“Excuse me?” If she was trying to make you feel better about yourself, she was surely doing the opposite, but you hardened your face, so she couldn’t see that her words affected you. You knew that’s what she wanted, for you to be hurt. She wanted a reaction out of you, and you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of getting it.

“You know, Y/N, from the way you talked about it, your relationship with Jungkook reminds me of Sarah and Jungkook’s relationship,” Su-ji said once she saw the picture Jules took of you and Jungkook laying down, cuddling in the blanket fort during New Years.

Although hearing the name of Jules’s mother made your heart drop, you kept your poker face on and continued to act like everything was okay. With confidence, you raised your eyebrows. “I’m not sure what that means.”

“Jin and I actually grew up with Sarah and Jungkook. We always went on lunch dates together while we were still in school,” Su-ji explained with a murderous smile on her face. “Kook’s a romantic, isn’t he? Opening the doors, cooking home-cooked meal, giving his jacket when it’s cold, and writing songs and poems weekly? He did that all the time for girls when we were younger. He did that for Sarah too.”

Your face softened at what Su-ji listed. They were all things he had never done for you, and you couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. Did he want to do something new and fresh with you? Or did he just not put in effort and care?

Most of it wasn’t a big deal. There was nothing wrong with opening the door yourself and being prepared for cold weather. You could have easily just asked Jungkook for a piece of his clothing if you had wanted to. But the thing that bothered you the most was in a span of months, Jungkook has never written anything for you.

He was a songwriter, but somehow, he didn’t have any words for you.

You knew Su-ji was hurting your pride on purpose, but for some reason, you let her continue and listened to every word she had to say. She stared at the pictures on your phone. “The way he looks at you is almost identical to the way he looked at Sarah.”

“Su-ji...” Jin warned. “Stop now.”

"It’s almost as if you were Sarah.” Her sharp words cut like a knife. If it weren’t your phone that started ringing in her hands, you would have cried on the spot. You felt a little better seeing Jungkook’s name on your screen. “Oh speak of the devil.”

“Why don’t we call it a night? I’m sure Y/N needs some rest.” Jin suggested as you stared at your phone. “How about you girls go clean, I’ll go get the kids, and Y/N, stays here to talk to Jungkook?”

The girls, one by one, got up from the couch with their plates, heading towards the direction of the kitchen. As they left, each one of them gave you a look. Jin’s wife gave you a look of resentment, Jimin’s wife gave you a look of pity, and Tae’s wife gave you a look of worry.

You slid your thumb on the screen and answered Jungkook’s call. “Hey. What’s up?”

“How are you, darling?” His honey voice made you want to cry. All you wanted was to cry your heart out and have his voice and touch comfort you, but he was the reason why you wanted to cry. “Doing okay?”

“Yeah, the dinner went terrific. I really liked tonight,” you lied, trying not to let your voice crack. “I’m actually not feeling so well, so I’m leaving early with Jules in like five minutes.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? It sounds like you want to cry?” He could read you so easily. “Is something wrong? If something is wrong, I can take the next flight and be back with you as soon-”

“Everything is fine. Jules and I are fine.” Lie once again. “Please don’t worry.”

Jules came down the stairs, holding hands with Jin. She ran towards you with a smile on your face, cheering you up a little bit. “Is that Jungkook?”

“Do you want to talk to him?” You asked, and she shook her head. “Kook, I’m going to help Jules get ready to go home, and I’ll call you back once we’re there. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Drive home safely, okay? I miss you.”

“I’ll talk to you later.” You hung up the phone.

Jules put her arms out once she saw you grab her red winter coat from the armchair. As you helped her put her jacket on, you hear distant arguing.

“What were you thinking, Su-ji?! You had no right to do that! That behavior was unacceptable and immature of you.” Jin whispered as he scolded her.

“What are you talking about?”

“Talking about Sarah and Jungkook like that! Making Y/N feel bad when she did absolutely nothing to you. He paused. “Sarah might have been your best friend, but she would have been extremely disappointed in how you treated Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

“I don’t need a lecture from you, Jin,” Su-ji snapped. “I personally do not think I do anything wrong!”

“I wouldn’t even be having one if you had behaved like an adult!” He argued back. “Even Ji-Ho didn’t say anything degrading about her. She actually liked Y/N and she usually hates everybody at first.”

“Don’t you think she deserved to know? All I did was tell her the truth!”

“You didn’t help her!” Helping Jules put her black hat on, you tried to listen to more of their conversation. “You’re unbelievable. I am furious with you.”

“Sleep on the couch then if you just want to defend her instead of me.”

“If something happens between them because of this, I will never forgive you.”

It doesn’t take long for Jin to come back to the living room with a forced smile on his face. He went closer to where you and Jules were at, bent down, grabbed the white gloves and helped Jules put them on her hands.

“Jules, honey, aren’t you going to say bye to your favorite Uncle Jin?” You asked. “Thank him too.”

“Thank you Uncle Jinnie for the food and hugs.” She wrapped her arms around him, instantly, making him smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetie.” He let go of Jules and stood up, making eye contact with you as you put your jacket on. “I’ll walk you out.”

____

[seokjin]

i want to apologize for su-ji’s behavior. i should have stopped her, and i am sorry. you didn’t deserve that. i know you’re going to tell me that it’s okay, but save it. it really was not okay

you know what su-ji said isn’t true right?

jungkook only loved sarah as a sister

he didn’t love her like he loves you

i promise

It took you a while to respond to Jin’s text. You wanted to believe his words because he knew Jungkook better than anyone, but his wife’s words kept repeating in your head.

It’s almost as if you’re Sarah.

did he tell you that?

that he loved me differently than sarah?

He didn’t respond, and what you’ve learned in the past is that sometimes no answer is an answer.

___

"Why do you like me?” Jungkook was coming back tomorrow, and before his flight, you called him randomly. “Why me? Out of all people? I’m nothing special.”

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asked. “Don’t say things like that. That’s not true.”

“I mean, come on, when you got to know me, I didn’t have a rough upbringing or had a special talent that made me stand out from others. I was just an ordinary person with parents and a few friends.”

As you waited for an answer, you opened your laptop and went onto a social networking website. Sighing, you looked up the one person that was on your mind lately ever since the dinner at Jin’s.

“You talk about how I’m so passionate about my dream and how I’m so amazing for growing up and taking care of Jules, but I think about you like that.”

“How so?” You breathed out, barely audible.

“Like I know it’s your job to take care of the kids and to make sure everyone is learning, but you take the time to connect with others and strive to make everything better is amazing.”

Sarah’s profile finally loaded onto your screen. Her profile picture was her and Jules, smiling on a park bench. Scrolling down, almost all her public and tagged pictures were with Su-ji and Jin’s family, celebrating almost every little occasion together. “Really?”

“And I know you want to take care of everyone and you’re okay with being by yourself, but I hope you know that there are people in the world who do care about you and will care about you.” His comforting words made you want to cry. “I care about you.”

Before you could say anything, the last picture you stumbled across on was a picture of Sarah and Jungkook together at her graduation. Sarah was wearing her cap and gown, holding a bouquet of roses in her hand. She had the biggest smile on her face as she looked up at Jungkook, who was in the middle of laughing. Although this picture of old, Jungkook almost looked the same and had the same features. The only difference was that he never looked quite as happy with you.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, bringing you back to reality. “What’s up?

Clearing your throat, you answered, “Yeah. I just was thinking.”

“I also love everything about you, you know? I love how you have a different, but such an understanding perspective about literally anything,” he said. “You’re special.”

“I hope so.”

“I’m going to sleep now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” You hung up the phone without saying anything, still staring at the picture of Jungkook and Sarah.

“What are you doing?” A gasp came out of your mouth as you shut the laptop lid as quickly as you could and turned your head to see Jules behind you. The look of confusion was all over her face along with heartache. “Why were you looking at pictures of my mom?”

“I’m not!” You denied, putting the laptop onto the table. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“You were.” She ignored your question, wanting actual answers. “I saw you.”

She took a seat next to you, looked at your for a long time and looked down at her fingers in her lap. “I know it’s been a long time, but I know what my mom looks like, and I know you were looking at her.”

“Honey-” Jules ran up the stairs, not hearing your explanation or excuse.

“I missed you so much.” The moment Jungkook saw you in the airport, he ran as fast as he could with his silver carry on suitcase, wrapping his arms around you. It was the tightest hug you’ve ever received, and you never wanted to let go. “I missed Jules too, but I really missed you.”

He pulled away and saw the tiny red bag in your left hand. “I got you a gift for White Day.”

“You didn’t have to.” Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, you two walked slowly towards the exit. “Is this really for White Day?”

“What else would it be for?”

“A gift for being insecure?”

You stopped in your tracks, and he took it as a sign to let go of you. “What?”

“Well, I don’t know what to think when you asked me things I liked about you, and then Jules telling me you were looking up Sarah.” Not wanting to meet his stare, you continued looking down at the ground at your feet. Once you looked back up, he saw the guilt in your eyes. He scoffed and rubbed under his nose in disbelief, taking your silence as his answer. His tone of voice changed. “I can’t believe you.”

“Why does it bother you, Jungkook? Maybe I was just curious. Is that so wrong?”

“Except you weren’t! You and I both know that!” His voice grew louder with each word he said. It was the first time he was raising his voice at you, and it was a surprise. He was always the one who always kept calm in the most heated situations. “I told you everything about Sarah.”

“Not the fact that she was head over heels for you!” You cried.

“Oh my god. Is this what this is about? You wanted to see if Sarah was in love with me?” He shook his head. This wasn’t the Jungkook you knew; he was acting different. “Who even told you that?”

“Does it really matter?” You stared at him. “I was bound to find out sooner or later.”

He shook his head. “No one looks pictures of dead strangers unless they want to know something.”

“Fine! I just wanted to know if what the girls said was true. They said that you two were madly in love. They said I was practically a replacement for Sarah. I just had to find out if it was true.” You paused when Jungkook looked away, not wanting to look at you. Not only that, but you noticed there were tears that were about to fall from his eyes. “She was beautiful and looked so happy with you. You looked happy with her too.”

Silence.

“Seokjin told me that you didn’t love her.”

Silence.

“Is that true?”

Silence once again.

“Jungkook, I can’t compete with her.”

He finally looked back at you and grabbed your hands. “I’m not asking you to.”

“I can’t do this,” you cried, pulling away. “I want to be with you and want you to want me because you love me. Not because I remind you of the girl who isn’t here anymore.”

“Don’t do this,” he whispered. “Don’t say that.”

“Do you realize how badly it hurt when they told me that?” Sobbing, you covered your mouth holding back any ugly sounds you were going to produce. “I was humiliated and felt like I would never measure up.”

“You are more than good enough.”

“What am I supposed to think when they told me that?”

“Believe me and Seokjin when I say that I have feelings for you.” You knew he was trying to comfort you, but you noticed that he didn’t straight out admit that he didn’t have feelings for Sarah.

“You’ve never written me a song,” The color drained out of his face as he heard your voice crack; you got your answer. There were tears falling down your face, but he didn’t wipe them like he always did when you cried after watching sad movies. “You have never written me anything.”

He let go of your hands.

You walked away, and he didn’t even come after you. __

lowkey not proofread but i really just want to continue this hehe thanks for reading

#bangtanwriters-net #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook scenarios #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #too young

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oopskashish · 4 years ago

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Sirius' Love Language

A/N: it's probably not my best headcanon because I wrote this in so many intervals as my exams are going on, *ignores the glare from my economics books*. It's for @with1love1anu 's headcanon challenge. Congratulations, lovely! I hope you like it.

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warning: fluff. A lot of it.

Summary: how Sirius shows you his love.

Sirius Orion Black

One of the most popular and handsome guys in Hogwarts was whipped for you

And lucky for him, you were also in love with him

I mean how can you resist those dusky grey eyes which appear like night sky

Or that lovely scent of cinnamon mixed with leather, lemons, and mint that dances in the air wherever he goes

Or that smile that makes even Greek gods jealous

Or those cheeky winks that he gave while you both were in potions, facing one another

Okay

In all

You were falling for him

Hard.

And somehow you managed the courage to go to him to ask him out

And just as you approached him

He asked you out

Coincidence?

Maybe.

But yes, you both started dating

And it wasn't easy dating him, yk.

No it wasn't because of those jealous glares you got

You could give more fucks about what a crocodile do in its free time than those stares.

It was difficult dating him because he seemed to recoil from any affection

Yet you were patient and let him get comfortable

And oh boy

It took a few months

But when he got comfortable with you

It was heaven

Sirius isn't good with words

Because obviously he grew up in the most loving house where cruciatus curse never was used as punishments and it never got too bad for him to runaway.

Obviously not.

So yeah

He turned to physical affection

He just had to be holding your hand

If not that

Then cuddling

There is nothing in between

"I am sorry, Minnie, but my healer has told me to hold her hand at all costs or I might just die!"

"And who is your healer, Black?"

"James Potter."

*James stands up and bows dramatically, giving a wink to Sirius before sitting down*

You only roll your eyes with a smile and just hold his hand tighter

After a point the teachers ignored you two

Because at least you made him focus in class

Or tried to.

He just had to press a kiss to your knuckles in every half an hour

And you did the same

Actually more than he did because seeing his smile

That melted your heart and soul and made you feel so warm

So you see the deal is

That Sirius is a legend when it comes to disappearing with James

At first you were like, "they're probably pranking someone."

But nuh-uh

That wasn't the case

They were doing their business

Of candies and snacks

It was completely anonymous and they both started it when they were in their second year

And now it's your seventh year and still nobody knows it

Not even moony or peter

But you caught them when they were sending an owl to deliver the snacks to one or their customers

"guys?"

"oops."

So yeah

They told you about it

And they were mainly doing it because Sirius knew from the starting that he would runaway from his family so they were making money for him

And this boy was a brilliant businessman

They had earned thousands of galleons over the years and they were too good at this

So yeah

You started helping them too

And Sirius was so happy when you helped

He didn't know why

But he just knew that he had to smolder you in kisses

So that night when you slept with him

He had pressed so many tiny kisses on your beautiful face

Because he was just so happy that you're this supportive

"I love you so much."

And that was the first time he said I love you

And you had cried

You never mind him not saying those three exquisite words

Because his everyday actions were enough to scream that he loved you

But he said those words to you?????

And he sorta freaked out

BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?? WHAT DID I DO???? I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO ALICE WHEN SHE WAS BLABBERING ABOUT A ROMANTIC NOVEL DURING THE LUNCH

But he stopped freaking out and hugged you

And you just sorta tackled him into a hug

And when you stopped crying he asked why did you cry

"because you said I love you to me." 👉🏼👈🏼🥺

And Sirius chuckled and kissed you

Because you're too adorable for your own good

He started saying how much he loved you just a lil

Like just

"love you" *pecks on cheek before giving a smile and sauntering away to his class*

"looking pretty, love."

Because as much as he had a good hold on his language

He just never found right words

But it's fine

His actions yelled out that he loved you

He would make tea for you when you were studying in the evening.

Would definitely make sure you eat as you tell him about a novel you read

Because boi do you get excited

He would take out small amounts of money from his savings from the business and would buy you gifts

And he was happy that you found joy in small things

He knew he is getting a gazillion kisses for getting you that novel you have been wanting to read for months

He would drag along his friends to find the prettiest of flowers for you from the forbidden forest

He would buy you those small rings that don't cost a lot of money but still look pretty

He would notice a lot of things about you over the years and he just knew what to give

A muggle Polaroid camera?

Done.

That sweater would look so pretty on you.

Got it.

You are running low on chocolates?

Lol impossible, he has a business of the very thing.

He would definitely make you sleep with him every night because he sleeps so much better with you

He would always kiss you when he sees you in the room that he walks in

No matter what, that's the law for him

He would cuddle with you every single day

But on Sundays

You guys just cuddled and did nothing else.

Which is also the reason why that you guys stay up on Friday and do all the work and on Saturday he is with his friends and you are with yours

Because on Sundays from the moment you wake up, you need to be in his arms or you might as well kill someone with a fork

I hope that someone is voldy or Peter or Bellatrix

Cause of death: angry girl with a fork 😂

Yeah

So you guys had so many cuddle positions

The spoons, ofc

Him laying on your chest

Him laying on you

And vice versa for both the cases

Sitting on his lap and him wrapping you two in a blanket as you two would talk in front of the fire

He would tell you about his pranks

And you would just make them better

"so after Lucius bullied those first year kids, I wanna put a dungbomb in his goblet"

"charm it to explode with pink glitter."

"THAT'S MY GIRL!"

He also expressed his love by singing to you

You would rest your head on his chest as he would sing to you while playing with your hair

He would pick up the songs that would express his unspoken feelings

And sometimes you will cry too

Because

F E E L S

Obviously Marauders would tease you guys to be so lovey dovey

"Have you charmed my best friend to stick with you, y/n/n?"

*eyeroll* "no, I don't need to follow him around a lost puppy like you do to Evans, James."

Sirius would be wheezing at that one

And he knew you said the pun of the lost puppy delibrately

"I have the best girl in the world, sucks for you tossers."

Everyone eyerolls except for you

You just kiss your boyfriend on his lips

You guys bet that you are the most adorable in the history of Hogwarts

-/-/-/-/-

A/N: I just think that candy business makes sense because obviously Sirius comes from a Slytherin family and one quality that he has adopted is to be resourceful and so that's what he do to get him that gold in his Hogwarts days. And don't worry, he gave the share to James too.

Hope you enjoyed it!

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just-my-sickly-pride · 5 years ago

Text

Triad - Roger Taylor x fem!Reader x Brian May

summary || never in your wildest dreams would you have expected brian and roger to suggest having a threesome. but never in your wildest dreams would you ever turn it down.

rating || explicit (18+ only). do not read if you are under eighteen. daddy kink, choking, threesome, oral (m receiving, f receiving). no slash.

word count || 13.2k

author’s notes || good god, it’s finally here. the next instalment of the try series. the threesome fic that all of you (some of you) have been waiting for. i somehow went from having 11k useless words to having 13.2k useful words that become this fic. so i guess you could say i wrote about 24.2k for this fic. but again, only just over half of it was useful. so i hope you like these useful words. (ps the title is a half-pun on the word ‘try’. as in, the try series. but it also means three. i thought it was funny, at least)

masterlist

Your stomach twisted in excitement, like a ferret on a sugar high, as you reached the front door. It was warm outside now, flowers blooming, and in your hands you held a very special package that you were very much looking forward to opening.

You knocked a second time, more impatiently than the first.

“Coming, coming,” you heard from inside, and footsteps hurrying to the door.

Roger opened the door. “Hiya,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“A gift,” you said proudly, all but prancing into the flat.

“A gift for me?” Roger purred, following after you.

“Yes,” you said. Brian was at the dining table, bent over a textbook, and you put down the box beside him. “And for you, Bri.”

Brian lifted his head, cocking his head to the side, looking at your curiously. “Right,” he said slowly. “Hello, by the way.”

“Hi,” you said.

“Roger said you’d asked for a chill night, so he said it was fine that I’m here, is that…?”

“Of course,” you said. “Rog told me you’d be here. And Deaky, is that right?”

“He’s in his room,” Roger said. “Fred’s… God knows where.”

“He left his phone charger plugged into the wall in his tute today,” Brian said. “He’s gone to uni to get it.”

You snorted. “If someone hasn’t nicked it by now.”

“Yes, well.” Brian nudged the box with his pen. “What’s in here?”

You gasped happily. “Ah, yes! Look. It’s…” You wrenched the lid off the box. “Cupcakes!”

Roger peered over your shoulder, and Brian sat up to look over the edge of the container. “Cupcakes?” Roger said. “What for?”

“For fun,” you said. “I felt like baking yesterday, randomly, and I decided to bring some over!”

“Oh,” Brian said. “That’s nice of you.”

“Well, have one,” you said, gesturing with the lid. “They’re not just for display, go on. I’ll go get Deaky.”

You headed down the hallway towards the bedrooms. “Deaky!” You stopped outside John’s room, and knocked. “Deaks, I’ve brought cupcakes over, if you want one.”

“Huh?” John said from inside the room. “Just – wait a sec.”

You waited. The door opened. “Hello,” said

“Hey,” you replied. You jerked a thumb towards the living room. “I brought cupcakes.”

“Is that to apologise for hogging the flat, then, is it?”

You frowned. “Hog– What?”

“Well, between you fucking Brian and fucking Roger, I feel like I spend less time in my own flat than you do. They’re always asking if I can find a way to make myself scarce.”

Your stomach dropped to the floor, and your limbs went a little numb. “Oh, y– Did Ronnie…?”

“Ron didn’t tell me, no,” John said. “Not hard to put two and two together.” He stared at your face for a few seconds, as if studying it, and then took your hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Sorry, I was only joking about the hogging-the-flat thing. You look like I’ve just told you I murdered your family.”

You let out a small laugh, a release of tension more than anything else. “I– I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” John said with a chuckle. “I don’t care, do what you want.” He paused, and smiled slyly. “What have you told Ronnie?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly. You sighed, covering your face with your hands. “Fuck, John, I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed. I’d hoped they were being more subtle than that.”

“Brian and Roger? Subtle?” John snorted. “Well, we already knew about Brian, of course. And if I hadn’t figured out Roger’s involvement the way I did, the fact that he drools over you every time you walk into the room would have clued me in.”

You groaned. “Aw, shit.”

“Fred knows, too. Just… so you’re aware.”

“Fantastic.”

“But I don’t think Brian and Roger know that we know. We haven’t exactly talked about it.”

“Wonderful.”

“Can I just ask…”

You finally lifted your head. “Yeah?”

John hesitated. “Are you… dating them?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “No. God, can you imagine? Dating both of them? I’d never get any sleep.”

John’s eyebrows went high in surprise, and he started laughing.

You gasped, clapping a hand over your mouth. “No, I didn’t mean it like that!” you cried, giggling. “I meant it would be stressful! I didn’t… No! John, stop it.” You gave him a light shove.

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” he said lightly, holding up his hands in defence.

“Don’t say it like that,” you scolded him, your mouth still twisted in a smile. “And we’re not dating. It’s just casual.”

“I was just asking. Seeing as you and Brian have kept this up for a while now, I just thought…”

“No,” you said. You were eager for this conversation to end. “Anyway,” you said, backing up down the hallway. “Like I said. Cupcakes. So.”

“I’ll get one on my way out,” John said. “I’m heading round to Ronnie’s in about ten minutes. I think Fred should be home soon.”

“All right.” You chuckled, and shook your head. “See you in ten minutes, then.”

“Yep,” John said, and you could hear the laughter in his voice. He disappeared back into his room.

“What happened down there?” Roger said, pointing down the hallway with an icing-spotted finger. He spied the icing, and licked it off.

“Oh, nothing,” you said with a smile and an exasperated sigh. “Just John being John. How are the cupcakes?”

“Very good,” Brian said, nodding appreciatively.

“Thank you.”

“Hey, can I show you something?” Roger said. He shoved the last third of his cupcake into his mouth. “On my guitar.”

“Eugh, Rog,” you said, screwing up your nose.

“Sorry.” He kept his mouth firmly closed, and then raised his eyebrows in question, pointing to his room.

“Yeah, sure,” you said, and left Brian to keep studying.

Roger seemed nervous as he strummed his guitar. John had left the house maybe fifteen minutes ago, and ever since he’d left, anxiety had begun radiating from Roger. The bits and pieces of the song he was writing were good, he really had a lovely voice, but you could tell his mind was halfway somewhere else.

“Did you want to talk about something?” you prodded gently. You were laid out on his bed, on your stomach, your arms acting as your pillow.

Roger sat near you, perched on the edge of the bed. He slipped his hand under the collar of his shirt, massaging his shoulder. “Um, er, not really,” he said unconvincingly. “I– Well, yes. But it’s me and Brian. Both of us, so.”

Your thoughts immediately took the most stress-inducing path of questioning. You sat up. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes!” Roger said immediately. “Yes. Very all right.”

“So…?”

“Ah, shit.” Roger put his guitar away. “Okay, I’ll get Brian.”

“Okay,” you said nervously.

“Please don’t stress,” Roger said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, seriously. Just wait here.”

So you did, chewing on your bottom lip.

You could hear Roger and Brian hissing at each other as they came back to the room, although you couldn’t make out anything further.

And then they were in the room, and Brian was shooting mild daggers at Roger. “I just want to preface this conversation by saying that we’d decided to not talk about this tonight,” Brian said through gritted teeth.

“She asked,” Roger fired back.

“You could’ve just–” Brian sighed, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. It’s happening now, I suppose.”

Roger sat on the bed beside you, and Brian on your other side.

Your heart was in your throat. “What is this?” you asked.

“God, Rog, what did you say to her?” Brian said. He patted your knee comfortingly. “There’s nothing to stress about.”

“That’s what I said,” Roger said defensively.

“Can we just get on with it, please?” you said tersely.

“Of course.” Brian cleared his throat, and he and Roger exchanged glances. “Well, we’ve been… talking.”

“Doing that thing where we talk about our… feelings and stuff,” Roger said. “Y’know, so we don’t get pissed at each other.”

“As often,” Brian added.

“Right, yeah. Just being open and honest and all that stuff. Mainly when it comes to you, because you’re the one that gets hurt when we don’t get our shit together, and we don’t want that.”

You were surprised, to say the least. And a little touched. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Brian said. “I know, literally the bare minimum, but it’s… It doesn’t exactly…”

“Come natural,” Roger supplied, and Brian nodded sheepishly.

“But anyway,” Roger continued, “we’ve been having these conversations, la de dah, long story short, we have a proposition for you.”

You paused, looking between them. “A proposition?”

“Threesome.”

You blinked in shock.

Brian huffed. “You couldn’t have explained that a little more bluntly, could you, Rog?”

“We’ve dragged it out for long enough,” Roger grumbled.

“Obviously, it’s entirely up to you,” Brian said quickly. “But we’re both comfortable with it, and–”

“And we think it’d be really hot,” Roger added with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. “And Brian mentioned that you’d seemed interested in the idea, and that time we had him on the phone while we were together, we think that worked pretty well, and you were so good at handling both of us – like, really good.”

“And it doesn’t have to be today,” Brian said. “Clearly. Or soon, even, if you don’t want. We can lead up to it, maybe, if you like, or we’re both happy for it to happen spontaneously, or whatever. We just, um…”

“We want it,” Roger admitted. “Like. Bad.”

They looked at you expectantly.

You were still reeling. Surely you were dreaming. “When did you even talk about this?” you said, unable to think of anything else to ask.

“After you and me had Brian on the phone,” Roger said. “We just wanted to…” He looked to Brian.

“We wanted to make sure we were both fine with it,” Brian said. “No jealousy stuff, y’know.”

“And I did sort of spring that on him,” Roger said. “So I wanted to make sure I hadn’t crossed a line.”

“Which he hadn’t,” Brian added. “I, uh– It–” His cheeks went pink.

“He thought it was hot as fuck,” Roger said, dragging out the last word for comedic value, giving Brian a teasing grin.

“So did you,” Brian shot back in retaliation.

“Well, yeah,” Roger said, but you could tell he was a little embarrassed himself.

“Hold up,” you said.

They did.

“I’m just… processing still,” you said.

“You can say so if you don’t want it,” Brian said. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Roger seconded.

You gave them both a bewildered look. “Are you dumb? Of course I want it. I’ve been dreaming about it for a month. I’m just processing the fact that you both want it. I mean, I’d come to the conclusion that it was never gonna happen, because as if you two would be comfortable seeing each other like that.”

“We have talked about that,” Roger said. “But we’re all right with it. We don’t want to… do anything with each other, but if it’s all about you, we’re cool with it. We want it.”

You took a deep breath in, and let it out slowly. “Holy shit,” you said with a laugh.

“Is that a… good ‘holy shit’?” Brian said hesitantly.

You blinked at him. “Um… yeah, yeah, it is. Wow. Okay. Like, yeah, yes. I am so on board.”

Brian and Roger grinned at each other, and then at you. “Nice,” Roger said happily.

“But not today,” you added.

“No, course not,” Brian said quickly, shaking his head. “You wanted a chill night, so it’s just going to be a chill night.”

“We can talk about it later,” Roger said. “We just wanted to ask.”

“Yeah, course,” you said.

A silence settled between the three of you, and, after some furtive glances and half-awkward, half-excited smiles, Brian said, “Right, I should really get back to studying, so…”

“Yes, go study,” you said.

“And I was thinking, maybe a game of Scrabble?” Roger suggested.

You made a face. Did you really feel up to getting into an argument over a board game? “What about a card game first?”

“Fine. You’ll join us later, Brian, yeah?”

“Yes,” Brian said.

“Promise?” you said.

Brian sighed. “Yes, I promise.”

“I’ll come get you in about an hour.”

“An hour?”

“Yes. Go on.”

“Two hours, at least.”

“An hour and a half. Final offer. Go study.”

Brian scowled. “Bastard,” he muttered, and left the room.

The next two or three weeks were wrought with tension. Due to scheduling conflicts – neither flat was free, last-minute study sessions, family birthday dinners – any normal opportunity to meet up with either of the boys had to be postponed. The most action you’d gotten was making out with Brian behind the science building at uni for all of five minutes.

If you hadn’t known that Brian was also not getting any action for those three weeks, the fact that he was almost fully hard after those five minutes – in public, near the loud and intrusive construction site, no less – was a very good indication.

It had been a few days shy of four weeks (a whole-ass month) when you decided that getting yourself off just wasn’t doing it for you anymore. You needed your boys.

Both of them.

Badly.

So you made a group chat.

please tell me next friday works for both of you

You stared at the phone, chewing your thumbnail, but neither of them were online at the moment. You threw your phone down beside you with a frustrated growl.

You didn’t get a response for another fifteen minutes, during which time you’d scrolled through a number of porn sites, but found nothing that was really doing it for you.

The response was from Brian. I can do the evening. What’s this for?

You rolled your eyes. take a guess

OH.

You chuckled.

I know Roger’s free, Brian said. He was just saying yesterday about how he was thinking of going out clubbing. Which means he doesn’t have anything.

tf is this chat, Roger said, immediately followed by, wait WAIT im dumb

so ur both free next friday night?

YES, Roger sent.

Very free, Brian added.

You got an idea, and clambered off your bed, racing to your wardrobe. You had to do this quickly, before the conversation ended, or you’d be left without any response, and, well, you couldn’t have that.

You could hear your phone vibrating on the bed as you scrambled to get changed into your lingerie. You only had the one outfit – it was maroon and lacy, with a push-up bra and garters attached to the panties – but you didn’t wear it often. You weren’t even sure Roger had seen you wearing it before. Oh, wait, maybe – but not for a while. Brian hadn’t seen you in it for months.

You checked your hair in the mirror – fine enough – and opened the messages.

From Brian: I don’t know if our flat is free that Friday.

Roger: i thought it was?

Brian: No, I don’t think so. Was it this Friday that Freddie was having Jim over, or next Friday?

Roger: oh shit yeah ur right, next friday. fuuuuuck. if this keeps happening i’m gonna die

Brian: You’re going to die from blue balls?

Roger: yes fuck u

Then Roger again, driving the point home: as if ur not dying rn i know u haven’t shagged any1 recently

Brian: And how do you know that?

Roger: i bloody know what it looks like in the way u walk when you’ve had a good night

Brian: The way I walk?

You let them bicker, taking the time instead to pose in front of the mirror. Sexy selfies weren’t something you were a world-class expert in, but you’d had some practice keeping two young men occupied for half a year. You knew what Brian and Roger liked to see, anyway.

When you were done, you opened the chat once more. They had stopped their argument, and were now asking after you, and whether your flat would be free.

yes it’s free, you said. all night

You sent them a couple of the photos you’d taken. think I should wear this? you added, smiling to yourself.

yesssssss holy fuck, Roger said.

Now you’re just being rude, Brian said.

Your phone buzzed – Brian had sent you a private message. God, you’re a tease. The shit I would do to you right now…

if u got something to say, say it in the group chat, you responded, feeling smug. ur gonna have to get used to roger hearing u dirty talk

Then you received a private message from Roger. thought id let u know I am definitely jerking off to those photos u sent later 2night. He added a kissy emoji at the end for good measure, and it made you laugh.

You sent a similar response to him as you’d sent to Brian.

Unsurprisingly, the group chat went very quiet.

You humphed, and put your phone away. If this was an indicator as to how Friday was going to go… Well. Maybe you had to rethink a few things.

You were just about to start doing your homework when your phone buzzed twice.

One message from Brian, and the other from Roger.

They’d copied and pasted the messages they’d sent to you privately, and sent them in the group chat.

You grinned. good boys, you sent.

The following Tuesday – T-minus three days – you received a text from out of the blue. It was from Kayla, a friend of a friend who you’d spoken to a handful of times, but got along with well. Hey girl! the text read. A group of us are going out tonight, just like luka, Priyanka, pat f and a couple others. Do u wanna come? we’d love to have u there! Pre-gaming is at mine at 9, it’ll be fun!

You shouldn’t. You knew you shouldn’t. There was no need to. And you didn’t know any of those people very well anyway. And you didn’t have the money to blow on a whole lot of booze anyway.

“I really shouldn’t,” you muttered to yourself.

yeah sure! you replied.

The minute the clock struck seven, and you realised that you now actually had to get ready, you deeply regretted your decision.

You were just crafting a text to let Kayla down, when your roommate Lucy knocked on your bedroom door.

“Come in,” you called.

She ducked her head in. She was half-dressed, wearing a skirt and her nice bra that you’d told her made her boobs look great. “Hey,” she said with a smile, leaning against the doorjamb. “I don’t suppose you heard from Kayla today?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, surprised. “She invited me out tonight, why?”

“I asked her to,” Lucy said. “You’re coming, right?”

“You did?” you said.

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “We haven’t been out in forever, I thought it’d be nice. Did you say yes?”

“I… did,” you said unsurely. “That’s weird, she didn’t mention you.”

Lucy shrugged. “Are you gonna start getting ready soon, or…?”

You grimaced. “I dunno if I feel like it now.”

“No, you have to come,” Lucy pleaded. “Come on, please? I’ve been trying to hook up with Priyanka Din for weeks now and I’m so hopeless and I need a wingwoman. Please? Please please please please plea–”

“Jesus, all right!” you cut in with a laugh. “All right, you’ve convinced me.”

“Yes!” Lucy whooped. “Start getting ready, I don’t want to miss pre-gaming.”

You and Lucy made it to Kayla’s dorm, all dolled up, at around half past nine, drinks in hand – well, concealed. You were technically on uni property right now.

“Do you think Pri’s gonna be there?” Lucy murmured as you waited for your knock to be answered.

“Yeah, Kayla said she would,” you said. “Don’t stress, Luce.”

“Yeah, but, like, what if she’s not there yet?”

“Then she’ll come soon enough.” You gave her a smile. “I’m sure she likes you.”

Lucy gave you a nervous smile back. “I hope so.”

The door opened, and a guy whose name you remembered as Dan said, “Oh, hey! Welcome! Come on in.”

He was clearly already tipsy.

You and Lucy headed in. There was music playing, although not too loud, and a healthy handful of people all crowded into the main area. You recognised a few faces, but not all. You spied Priyanka Din near the window.

Kayla saw you two, and leapt to her feet, hurrying over. “Thanks for coming, guys!” she said chirpily, wrapping you and Lucy into a hug. “Come sit down! If you wanna smoke, please do it out of a window, I don’t want to get in trouble. That includes weed.”

You had a water bottle with you, and in it was a strong mix of vodka lemonade. Lucy had two cans of beer hidden in her jacket, and she pulled them out and cracked one open. You nudged her, and gestured subtly to Priyanka. “Go talk to her.”

Lucy’s eyes went wide, and she turned away. “Oh my God, I can’t.”

“No wonder you haven’t hooked up with her,” you said with a laugh. “Go on!”

“I need at least a whole beer inside me first.”

“Then get drinking.”

She responded by taking a huge swig.

You took a sip of your concoction, and made a face. Maybe you’d gone a little too heavy on the vodka.

There was another knock at the door, and Kayla exclaimed, “I’ll get it!” and hopped to her feet, tottering in her heels to the door.

You decided to find somewhere to sit down, and surveyed your options. Ah, there was that girl from your Thursday morning lecture. What was her name? Alice? You could talk to her.

“Oh my God, hi!” Kayla cried from the door as you began picking your way through the clumps of people. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Of course, darling, you thought I’d miss it?”

You knew that voice anywhere. You perked up, and turned around.

Kayla was walking back into the room, hanging off Freddie’s arm.

“Freddie!” you said.

He blinked at you like he’d seen a ghost. “Good Lord, what the hell are you doing here?”

You went over to him, and he crushed you in a hug. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

“You saw me last week,” you giggled.

“Feels like longer.”

He let you go, but kept his arms around your waist. “I didn’t know you knew Kayla.”

“I don’t know her that well,” you confessed. “I was surprised to be invited tonight, to be honest. How do you know her?”

“Oh, I know everyone,” Freddie said.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget,” you said.

Freddie turned towards the door, which had been left open. “The others should be here in a minute.”

“The others?”

“Yes. I don’t know if Deaky’s coming, he said he’ll see, but your two boy toys should be here any minute. They just had to stop off on the way to buy some bourbon or something.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. “They’re not my boy toys,” you said with a laugh that you hoped was light and casual.

Freddie gave you a withering look. “What’s a better term, then? Devotees? Loyal servants?”

You slapped his chest. “Don’t be rude.”

“Am I wrong?”

You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to answer, and he grinned. “They’re going to be infinitely pleased to see you here. Especially when you’re looking like that.”

You glanced down at your outfit. It wasn’t anything too special, just chunky sneakers with cute shorts and a crop top. You’d opted for something comfortable rather than glamorous. But it was nice that Freddie thought you looked good.

You glanced over to Lucy. She was chatting to Kayla, and frantically trying to down her beer as quickly as she could, throwing furtive glances over at Priyanka.

“What’s the matter?” Freddie asked, letting go of your waist and slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“Oh, Lucy’s desperately in love with Priyanka Din,” you muttered, taking a sip of your drink. Freddie held out his hand, and you passed it over. He took a sip, and made a mild choking sound.

“Fucking hell, darling, that’s disgusting,” he wheezed, handing it back.

“I know, too much vodka,” you lamented.

“Too much cheap vodka.”

You screwed up your nose at him. “Fussy.”

“You can keep that entire drink to yourself. I doubt anyone will be trying to steal any of it all night! Lucky you.”

“You’re being rude again,” you muttered, and Freddie laughed.

You heard the front door close, and both of you turned to see Roger and Brian. “Nice of you to show up!” Freddie crowed. “And look what the cat dragged in!”

He stepped aside to gesture broadly to you.

Both Brian and Roger froze where they stood. “Oh,” Brian said, his eyes sweeping your body. “Hi.”

You waved. “Hi.”

“It’s not Friday already, is it?” Roger said suddenly, and you almost burst out laughing.

Freddie frowned. “Friday? No, darling, it’s Tuesday.”

Roger pressed his lips together, his face going red. “Oh, yeah,” he said in a small voice.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Brian added, moving closer to you.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” you said.

“You know what I mean.” He wrapped you in a hug. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“You look great,” Roger said, giving you a hug of his own. He held out his hand. “Can I have a sip?”

“I wouldn’t,” Freddie said, as you passed over your bottle.

Roger took a swig, and made a bit of a face, but then shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”

“God, I live with a goblin,” Freddie sighed.

For the next forty minutes or so, you could almost feel Roger’s and Brian’s eyes never leaving you. It was obvious they’d done the maths – you were here, and Lucy was here, which meant that your flat was free, possibly for another few hours.

But they were holding back, as you were. No one had established exactly what kind of mood they were in – you didn’t know if either Brian or Roger would be down for a spontaneous threesome, and you weren’t even sure if you were ready yourself. So there the three of you were, sneaking curious glances at each other, simultaneously trying to assess your own feelings and thoughts and trying to assess theirs, playing the line between I’m staying friendly so I don’t make you feel pressured if you’re not up for anything and I want you to know that I’m at least interested in possibly doing something more.

It was a complicated dance. One that could have very easily been solved with a conversation, but a conversation meant giving weight to something that none of you were sure was something worth giving weight to.

It was hard enough with two people involved. Three was a whole other game.

You couldn’t tell if the alcohol made things better or worse. You weren’t drunk, but you were certainly tipsy, all fuzzy and warm, and you noted that Brian and Roger had had a few drinks of their own.

It all came to a head when you emerged from the bathroom. Brian was there, the only one in the hall, clearly hoping to catch you alone. “Hey,” he said lowly, and there was no guesswork involved in his tone of voice.

You smiled, stepping in close to him. “Hey,” you said. You tilted your head to the side, watching his face, as he was watching yours.

Then he leant in for a kiss, and you returned it without hesitation. One arm curled around the small of your back, the other cupped the back of your neck, his thumb against your jaw. You hooked your fingers into the loops of his jeans, pulling him closer, and he moved forward, pushing you against the wall in response.

Heat immediately pooled in your gut, and Brian pressed his hips against yours, deepening the kiss.

Then a voice at the end of the hall interrupted things. “Oh, um.”

Not quite an apology, but not quite not an apology, either. You and Brian broke apart to see Roger hovering. Not quite leaving, but not quite not leaving.

“Guess, uh, Brian got in first,” Roger added with a cheeky grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. He pointed a thumb back to the living area. “I’ll, uh…”

You let go of Brian, and held out your hand to Roger.

Roger immediately dropped the façade with an air of relief, striding over to you. Brian stepped back, just a little, to give you room as Roger cupped your face. He kissed you breathless, with that delicious kind of restraint he used on you all the time was so very him and made you weak in the knees.

Eventually, you broke apart. “Yeah?” you said in questioning, nodding to Roger.

He nodded in return. “Yeah. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You looked to Brian. “Yeah?”

Brian nodded too, to you and to Roger. “Yeah, uh-huh.” He stepped in close again, capturing your lips with his, and Roger happily went to your neck.

The combination of them both, of Brian’s hand on your cheek and Roger’s on your back, of Brian’s roughness, the sting of his teeth as he nipped at your lips and of Roger’s lips and tongue like velvet against your throat, made you feel heady, overwhelmed in the best way. You made a soft sound, and both boys, so finely tuned to you, your body, every sound you made, responded in kind – Brian’s hand slid around to bury itself in your hair, and Roger’s hand slid up the front of your shirt, thumb stroking along the skin just underneath your bra.

You decided to switch, breaking from Brian, and Roger immediately lifted his head to kiss your mouth; Brian instead dropped his hand from your cheek to your throat, just resting it there, applying the smallest amount of pressure, and he nibbled at your earlobe. His other hand went to your hip, his thumb digging into the flesh just above your hipbone.

You made another sound, a gentle whine in the back of your throat. Brian knew that meant to choke you a little harder, but Roger drew back and murmured, “What do you want, sweetheart?”

Brian kissed your cheek, trying to get your attention, but your head was already swimming. Between having two boys dote on you, plus a hand squeezing your throat, your thoughts were already starting to grow incoherent.

Then Roger spied Brian’s hand on your throat, just as you automatically turned your head to Brian and he kissed you.

“Whoa, Brian,” Roger said loudly. “What are you trying to do, make her pass out?”

Brian barely moved his mouth from yours. “I know what I’m doing, Roger,” he said, and, as if to demonstrate, squeezed a little harder still, making you let out a whine that was most definitely too loud for your current circumstance. Your head fell back against the wall, your eyes closing, feeling your core throb, and you heard Brian say, “See? I can’t believe you’ve never done this with her before. She fucking loves it.”

“Shit,” Roger breathed in amazement. “No, I– I had no idea.”

You clenched your thighs together. “Daddy, please,” you said in a small voice.

“Oh, good girl,” Brian said, sounding infinitely pleased.

“She could’ve meant me,” Roger said.

Brian snorted. “You’re not the one choking her, are you?”

“She could want me to,” Roger countered.

You made an impatient sound.

“Shit, sorry,” Brian said, and eased his hand away.

Just like always, you felt a rush go through your body. Is this what it felt like to do coke? Because you sure felt like you’d just done a line of coke. “You two need to stop bitch-fighting,” you said, breathing heavily, “and take me home, so you can fuck me.”

Brian and Roger nodded. “We can do that,” Roger said.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Brian said. “Right now.”

It had taken some wheedling and needling to leave. Lucy had glared at you in betrayal, so you’d begged for Freddie to take your place as wingman. He’d agreed, but he told you he didn’t want this to become a habit, the three of you sneaking off like this. He’d also added with a wink, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

It was a bus ride back to yours, and you felt giddy with excitement. It was late, so it was a ridiculously long wait, but you were well and truly kept entertained, and, thankfully, you were mostly alone, apart from a smattering of other students sprinkled along the kerb. Brian and Roger could barely keep their hands off you. Every so often one of them would kiss you, just for a moment, like they just couldn’t help themselves.

You realised that the three of you were most certainly making a bit of a scene, as much as you were trying not to. The alcohol made you all talk a little bit louder than you normally would, laugh a little bit more carelessly. Made it a little bit harder to stop touching each other.

Finally, the bus arrived. Roger got in first, sliding in beside you, and Brian sat in front, twisting around, resting his forearms on the back of the seat. The banter between them was sharp, spitting. They were just as excited as you were, and you could hear it in the way they bickered with each other and flirted shamelessly with you.

Roger’s hand curled around your inner thigh. Not too high up that it was wildly inappropriate – although it could perhaps be classified as somewhat inappropriate – but high enough that it was distracting for you, and made you push your legs slightly further apart.

Brian could barely keep his eyes off Roger’s hand. Maybe it was your thigh. Maybe it was both.

Either way, you couldn’t wait to start tearing off clothes as soon as you walked in the door.

“Hurry up,” Roger said as you struggled with the key into your flat.

“I’m trying, it always gets stuck,” you grunted.

Brian pushed your hair out of the way to kiss your neck.

“Oh, God, not helping,” you moaned weakly, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

Roger huffed. “Here.” He batted your hands away and frantically fiddled with the key. You leant back into Brian, and his hands came to rest on your waist. He sucked a bruise into your skin, and your breath caught.

“Got it!” Roger exclaimed, all but shoulder-barging the door open. He grabbed your hand, and you grabbed Brian’s, and Roger towed you inside. Brian closed the door behind you, and Roger whirled around and kissed you.

“God,” he moaned in between kisses. “It’s – been so long – since – I’ve – had sex.”

You had to break away to laugh, and Roger laughed too. “I mean it,” he said. “Like, a whole month.”

“Pretty sure it’s been a whole month for all of us,” Brian said. “Can we move out of the doorway?”

It was a journey to the bedroom. The boys kept pawing and grabbing at you eagerly, their hands all over your body. If one of them kissed you, the other would press themselves up behind you and kiss your neck and slide their hands up your shirt. Brian even went so far as to slide your shorts off, and you kicked them away when they pooled at your ankles. Roger took your shirt off next, before pressing you against a wall and grinding against you, growling into your ear how badly he wanted you. They were stripping themselves as well as they went, and by the time you eventually made it to your bedroom, you were all in your underwear, a trail of discarded clothes littering the floor behind you.

Brian all but shoved you down onto the bed, and you bounced when you hit the mattress, giggling.

“Hey,” Roger said in reprimand, “be nice.”

“This is me being nice,” Brian said. “I haven’t called her a bastard once this whole time.”

“It’s true, he’s being a saint,” you said.

Roger shot you both a slightly bewildered look, but then blew a raspberry, shrugging. “All right, whatever works for you guys, I guess.”

Brian climbed onto the bed, on all fours above you. “But you are a bastard,” he whispered, “and you’re the worst person I know.”

You grinned. “Thanks.”

He kissed you, but just a short one, and then he pulled back again. “Hey, you, uh, called me ‘Daddy’ earlier,” he said, his voice lilting upwards at the end, almost in questioning. “Would that be…?”

“What are you two whispering about?” Roger said. “Don’t leave me out.” He hopped onto the bed, not-so-subtly shouldering Brian as he crawled his way to your side, lying down, propping his head up on his hand. Brian shot him a glare, but it didn’t hold much heat.

“Brian’s just asking if I feel like calling him Daddy,” you explained.

“Oh, yeah, I was wondering the same thing,” Roger said. He placed a finger under your chin, tilting your face towards his. “What do you think?”

His voice was lower, softer. His I’m in control voice. It made you shiver.

“I dunno,” you said unsurely. “Both of you?”

“It’s up to you,” Brian said. But you could very easily tell what he was hoping you’d decide.

“Could be fun,” Roger said. His fingers trailed lightly down your throat, between your breasts, down over your stomach. “It’s been a while since we’ve done it. I dunno about you and Brian.”

“No, it’s been a while,” Brian said.

Roger’s fingers danced along the waistband of your panties, and you shifted, swallowing heavily.

You let out a slightly breathless chuckle. “I don’t think you two realise just how differently you two operate in this dynamic,” you said. “You sure you’ll be able to handle it?”

“Sure it’s not that different,” Roger said.

“You’d be surprised.”

“Would you be able to handle it?” Brian said. “Wouldn’t be too much?”

“I can adapt,” you said.

Roger grinned. “So that’s a yes?”

You bit your lip. Roger’s fingers slipped into your panties, just his fingertips, and your breath caught. You nodded.

Roger’s grin widened. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’d like to try,” you breathed.

“What’s the safeword?”

“Macca.”

“And what’s ours?” Brian said.

“Nickleback.”

“Good.” Brian sat back, sitting in your lap, and looked to Roger. “Do you want a go first?”

“Doing what?” Roger said.

“I dunno, fucking her?”

Roger snorted. “What? No, we can’t fuck her right away. We have to savour it, y’know? Lead up to it?”

Brian shrugged. “We’ll just fuck her more than once.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” you said wryly.

“No,” Brian said, and you snorted a laugh.

“You’re not talking back, are you?” Roger said, his tone leaving no room for protests.

You shook your head. “No, Daddy, sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

Brian looked flabbergasted. “What?”

“What?” Roger said. “Sorry, did you want to tell her off? Shouldn’t have overstepped, my bad.”

“No, she listened to you,” Brian said, gesturing to you accusingly. “I can barely get her to shut up.”

Roger frowned. “Just tell her to be quiet, then.”

“She doesn’t listen to me!”

Roger’s face lit up in understanding. “Oh, right, yes, I remember. She was quite the brat the first time we did it. Weren’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy, I was,” you said.

“And then I got you to behave, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“And now you’re perfect, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Your heart was racing at the praise. “Just for you, all for you.”

Brian spluttered. “Excuse me? Why aren’t you well-behaved for me?”

You made a face. “I am. Most of the time.”

“You’re the brattiest motherfucker…”

“I am good for you!” you said. “I do what you say.”

“Well, you’re never that good,” Brian said, pointing at Roger. “Where’s my ‘yes Daddy’, ‘sorry Daddy’?”

“Up your ass,” you muttered.

Even Roger laughed at that, while Brian scowled. He climbed off you, and threw you a two-fingered salute. “Shove that up your arse,” he said.

“Dude, come on,” you giggled, as Brian crossed his arms. “Brian.”

You sat up and shuffled closer, sitting up on your haunches, reaching for Brian’s wrist, tugging at it until he uncrossed his arms. “Don’t be like that.”

“Yeah, come on, Brian,” Roger said.

You gently pulled Brian closer, to the edge of the bed. “You can be such a baby sometimes,” you teased, grinning at him.

“Don’t call me a fucking baby,” he mumbled.

“Then stop acting like one.” You took his hand, placed it on your cheek, blinking up at him. He pressed his thumb to your lips, almost as if instinctively, and you bit at it playfully. He watched you with dark eyes.

“Can I suck you off, Daddy?” you asked, softly.

He shivered. “I think I could be convinced to let you do that. If you really want to.”

You heard Roger make an unimpressed sound behind you, a half-grumbled you must be joking, and Brian’s mouth twitched as he smothered a smile.

All right. You could play along. “I really want to, Daddy. Please.”

Brian cocked his head to the side, squinting in thought. “Hmm…”

“I need it, I love it so much. My mouth feels empty without it.” Okay, maybe you were going a little overboard. But you could hear Roger trying to muffle giggles behind you, and Brian’s eyes were alive with amusement, so you kept going. “I think about it all the time. I’ve missed it so much. I haven’t sucked your cock in so long, I’m so desperate, Daddy, please. I need your huge–” You failed to suppress a laugh. “Your huge, ginormous cock in my mouth.” You pulled Brian even closer by his skinny hips, and, keeping your eyes on his, mouthed at his dick through his underwear.

You felt it twitch, and Brian’s eyes went a little wider, and suddenly he didn’t look like he was laughing anymore. He breathed in shakily, his thumb now brushing over your cheek. “You want it?” he asked in a low voice.

You nodded, and pressed your tongue against the head. “Yeah. Want it.”

“Can I go next?” Roger piped up from behind.

You shot him a glance over your shoulder. “Sure, you can have a turn next.”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“But you can suck Brian off any time. You live together.”

Roger recoiled. “That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Rog, stop distracting her,” Brian said.

“Oh, I see, you’re allowed to have a big old sulk in the middle of a threesome, and now you’re about to get your dick sucked, but I ask when I’m getting some attention–”

“I did not have a ‘big old sulk’, thank you.”

“You did! That’s exactly what you did, you utter prick, and now you’re getting rewarded for it.”

“Rewarded,” Brian scoffed. “I’m not getting rewarded, I’m– oh, shit.”

You’d decided to end the argument by wrenching Brian’s underwear down to his knees and sucking him into your mouth in one fluid movement.

His other hand flew to your hair, and you felt him start to quickly harden in your mouth. “Fuck, good girl,” he moaned, and you whimpered.

Despite your joking around, you had missed this. Hearing Brian’s gasps and choked-off moans, his murmured encouragement.

You felt Roger sidle up behind you after not too long, felt his hands smooth down your sides, over your thighs, as he peppered kisses to your shoulder and upper back. “I don’t mean to distract you,” he whispered, “but I am kinda freaking out about how Brian’s dick is literally right there, it’s so near my face.”

You choked out a laugh, and Brian huffed. “Roger, shut up.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Roger said with a laugh, and he went back to kissing your skin, and you went back to sucking Brian off.

You felt yourself growing wetter, and you squeezed your thighs together, drawing Brian in as deep as you could go, making him hiss.

“Oh, feeling a bit needy, huh?” Roger murmured. One of his hands slid into your underwear.

He moaned. “Brian, she’s so wet,” he said.

Brian’s hips jerked forward, and you gagged a little. He rushed out, “Sorry, sorry, fuck.”

“You’re fine, sweetheart, just breathe,” Roger said soothingly, as he started to rub your clit. “You’re doing so well. No one else has touched you in so long, huh?”

You pulled off Brian to catch your breath, jerking him off with your hand. You kept your eyes on him, but you responded to Roger. “No, Daddy,” you panted.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, you don’t have to answer me, just focus on your other Daddy, all right?”

You shuddered, and Brian whispered, “Fuck.”

“Thank you,” you said, and swallowed Brian down again.

Roger took the opportunity to unclasp your bra with one hand, helping you slide your arms out. He dropped the bra beside Brian on the floor, and kissed your neck. One hand still circled your clit, the other now pinching and tugging at your nipples. “God, I’ve missed your tits,” he growled.

You automatically pushed your hips into Roger’s hand, but he pulled away. You whined.

“Fuck, I dunno how much longer I’m gonna last,” Brian groaned.

You pulled off him again, giving him a break, lapping at his head, running your tongue up his shaft.

Roger teased your entrance with his finger, but didn’t press in, just continued teasing your clit. You were running purely on muscle memory, focusing on nothing else but the mounting pleasure in your core.

“Look at you,” Roger breathed. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already getting close to coming all over my fingers.”

You let Brian go, arching back into Roger. “Fuck,” you said, your voice high and breathy.

Roger’s hips jerked against the small of your back. His hand let go of your chest to come to rest against your throat, and you moaned helplessly.

“I wouldn’t try choking her if you’ve never done it before,” Brian warned. “You have to do it properly or you’re gonna kill her.”

Oh, fuck, but what a way to go.

“Wasn’t going to,” Roger said. His fingers started rubbing faster, with more purpose, no longer just teasing, and you squirmed in his grip.

“Please let me come, please,” you whimpered.

Brian started leisurely stroking himself. “Christ,” he said. “She looks…”

“I know,” Roger said. “And she’s all ours. Can you believe it?”

“Not in the slightest.” Brian never took his eyes off you. “You gonna let her come?”

Roger’s fingers slowed down, back to teasing, and you twitched. “No, Daddy, please, please,” you sobbed.

“You think I should?” Roger asked casually, like he was asking if he should get pizza for dinner.

Brian shuddered, gripping the base of his cock. “Tease her for a bit more. I want her to come while she’s sucking me off, but if she starts doing it now I’m gonna come, like, immediately. Fucking hell.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you ground out.

Roger’s hand stopped, and your hips bucked forward, trying to find friction again. “Hey, don’t be smart with him,” Roger said sharply. “You try that shit again, you’re not coming at all, understood?”

You made a pathetic noise of protest, but nodded. “Yes, Daddy, I’m sorry.”

“Apologise to him, not to me.”

You looked up Brian. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Brian bit his lip. “I could get used to having you well-behaved like this. Touch her tits, Rog.”

“Don’t fuckin’ boss me around, thanks,” Roger said, but he did as Brian told him to, moving his hand from your throat back to your chest, playing with your nipples.

“Now, you’re gonna keep sucking my dick,” Brian said, gripping your jaw in his hand. Roger brushed his lips down your throat, pressing a single kiss to where your neck met your shoulder. “And your other Daddy’s gonna touch you until you come everywhere like you clearly so desperately need to.”

Roger ground against you, moaning low in the back of his throat.

“But I don’t want to come just yet,” Brian continued. Your eyelashes fluttered, and he gripped your jaw more firmly. “Listen. Are you listening?”

You hummed in confirmation. You were listening. But it was hard. There was so much happening to distract you.

“I don’t want to come yet,” Brian said again. “So if I get too close, you’re going to stop sucking my dick, but that means that Roger stops touching you. Which means, if you’re going to come, you have to do it quick, otherwise who knows how long we’ll make you wait. Understand?”

You nodded.

“Roger, do you think she gets it?”

“Hard to tell.” Roger’s hand snuck in between your legs again, his touch light over your underwear, and you moaned desperately. “Explain to me what Brian just said, sweetheart.”

“I…” Your breathing was ragged. “I have to – come before Daddy does, otherwise I– I won’t get to come at all.”

“Good girl. Go on, get going, then.”

You leant forward and swallowed Brian down, and Roger resumed touching you, making you whine. You were pretty sure Roger’s hand was a gift to you from God himself.

It was more than a little difficult to focus on your task when you were so close to an orgasm. You could tell you were sloppy, drooling all over Brian’s cock, your hand jerking him off irregularly, your jaw aching. But you could also tell he was holding back, his chest heaving, his skin shining with a thin layer of sweat. You were so close to coming, so close, but you didn’t think you were close enough. You just needed something more, something inside you, and you normally were perfectly happy with coming from clit stimulation alone, but tonight you just needed, you needed–

Brian wrenched you away, panting out, “Fuck, fuck, oh fuck, ah.” He gripped the base of his cock. “Jesus Christ, I almost f– fucking came, oh God I’m so close.”

Roger’s hands were gone from you entirely, and you collapsed forward, bracing your knees, your body twitching as it searched for its release but came up empty. “No, no,” you whined. “No, I was…”

“You were too slow, is what you were,” Brian said. “Oh my God.”

“Sweetheart,” Roger said from behind you, “come here.”

You turned around on all fours, shakily, to find Roger sitting up against your pillow, one hand raking through his hair. He raised his eyebrows expectantly at you. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” you said automatically, and crawled over to him. You sat down beside him, your hands in your lap, gnawing on your lip. You hoped you weren’t going to get reprimanded for not coming soon enough.

Roger sighed, and wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, then slid to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “What to do with you,” he murmured.

“Maybe get her naked?” Brian suggested dryly. He’d taken his underwear off completely, and was joining you on the bed. “Do something with her, so I can fuck her, because I am genuinely at my wit’s end.”

You licked the tip of Roger’s thumb, and his eyes flicked to you in thought. “I’m gonna make her come, I reckon.”

“What, you think she deserves it? After that?”

“I’m gonna make her come,” Roger said again, lying you down on your back, “and then you’re gonna make her come.”

Brian was sceptical. “Why?”

“Because I miss hearing the sounds she makes,” Roger said simply. “And I want to get my mouth on her.”

Brian’s eyes lit up. “Huh,” he said.

“And sure, I think she deserves it. Wasn’t her fault you were so close to creaming yourself.”

Brian narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything as Roger lay you down and sat between your legs. You watched with bated breath as you lifted your hips so he could slide your panties down your legs, tossing them away.

“Fucking perfect,” he breathed, staring at your dripping cunt. He looked to Brian. “Changed your mind yet?”

Brian swallowed heavily, his eyes drinking in your naked body. “Maybe,” he mumbled.

You went to press your thighs together, but Roger caught you, pushing your knees apart, flat on the bed. “Ah-ah-ah, I don’t think so,” he said. “You’re keeping them nice and open, all right?”

You nodded, and then remembered your rule, so you blurted out, “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Roger said, and then settled on his stomach. “Brian, go kiss her.”

“You’re not allowed to tell me what to do, either,” Brian muttered, but crawled further up your body and leant over you, kissing you deeply.

Roger’s lips and tongue were on your thighs, soft, and adoring, almost, and it made your body tremble. You tried not to complain about how slowly he was going, but soon you started to squirm a little, whining into Brian’s mouth impatiently, gripping his hair. Brian broke the kiss to pin your wrists by your head. “Stop whingeing,” he said.

You pouted, and your back arched a touch as Roger drew even closer to where you needed him most.

Brian let your wrists go, and lightly caressed your body, his eyes never leaving your face. You gritted your teeth, but, Christ, this was torture.

Then Roger’s breath was fanning over you, and your breath was coming in short pants, and Brian’s hand was drifting ever-closer to your throat, and you thought you might die right then and there, but then Roger licked into you, and Brian’s hand closed around your throat, and you thought you might die for an entirely different reason.

One of your hands immediately flew to Roger’s hair, the other to Brian’s wrist, and you blurted out, “Thank you, Daddy, thank you, please.”

Brian blinked at you in confusion, and he twisted to look at Roger, who was eating you out like you were his last meal on Earth. “Is the thanking thing you?”

Roger nodded, humming against you, and you twitched, gasping.

Brian looked back to you, shaking his head a little. “Can’t believe you thank him just for touching you,” he said under his breath, but focused back on task, his grip tightening, making your head swim.

Roger could feel the way your body shifted under Brian’s grip, and he ramped things up, sliding a finger into you, focusing his tongue on your clit. You instinctively rolled your hips against his face, tugging on his hair, making him moan, which in turn shot a bolt of arousal through your blood.

You whined.

Brian squeezed a little tighter, and your mouth fell open. You weren’t struggling to breathe – Brian was an expert at this by now – but it was almost as if you could feel the air dragging against your oesophagus. You wanted to tell him how good it felt, but the effort to do was suddenly overwhelming. All you could do was strengthen your grip on his wrist.

Roger worked a second finger into you, pumping them in and out, and you made a choked sound. You looked up at Brian pleadingly – it was a face Brian knew well, and he leant down to kiss the corner of your lips. “She’s so close, Rog,” he said. Then to you: “I bet it feels so good, having someone hold you down by your throat while someone else goes down on you. You’ve been dreaming about this for months, haven’t you? How many times have you pictured this? Made yourself come thinking about us doing this to you, and you have no control whatsoever?” He nipped at your earlobe, and you yanked Roger’s hair even harder. He moaned, crooking his fingers, searching for your G-spot.

“You look perfect,” Brian added. “Like you were born to do this. Maybe next time I’ll hold you down and fuck your throat while Roger eats you out.”

He let your throat go. You felt like you were about to explode. Then Roger found your G-spot, and he pressed down on it, and your orgasm crashed through you, your body twitching. Roger coaxed you through it, gently, until you made a small sound, and he kissed your thigh and withdrew his fingers. You let go of his hair with stiff fingers.

“I missed the sound you make when you come,” he said with a contented hum, kissing your thigh again. “And you pulling my hair, missed that too.”

Brian ducked his head to kiss your throat. “Tell me when I can have my turn,” he murmured against your skin.

You laughed weakly. “I’m still…” You took a few gulping breaths. “Still recovering from that, Bri.”

“I know.”

Roger wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and crawled up to your other side, hovering above you, and drew you in for a messy kiss. “What do you say?” he said.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you sighed.

“So weird,” Brian muttered. His hand smoothed down your front, to your hip, and he bit at your throat, pressing his thumb into your hip.

You allowed yourself to get lost in the kiss with Roger, tasting yourself on his tongue and lips.

You wondered, briefly, if you had actually died, and gone to Heaven. Could that have happened? Could you be in Heaven right now? Because it sure as fucking hell felt like it.

Brian’s fingers started creeping towards your thighs, and you could tell he was starting to get impatient by how he was most certainly sucking a hickey into your neck. But you didn’t want to break your kiss with Roger, so you just reached down and took his wrist, tugging it between your legs.

Brian lapped at the hickey, soothing it. “You ready?” he said, and you nodded, then deepened your kiss with Roger, who happily obliged.

Brian began kissing down your body – far more quickly than Roger had kissed your thighs – and lay down between your thighs. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and yanked you closer to him, making you yelp and bump noses with Roger. Roger breathed out sharply in a small huff of exasperation, and shuffled further down, capturing your lips again.

Brian’s mouth was needy and reverent, his tongue pressing into your entrance, his nose nudging your clit.

You sighed, and Roger smiled against your mouth, then moved his kisses along your jaw, down your throat, along your collarbone, down to your chest. His tongue dragged over your nipple as Brian slid two fingers into at once, and you let out a shaky cry.

Brian’s fingertips found your G-spot with ease, and he massaged it as his tongue swirled around your clit. Your stomach dropped, and you could rapidly feel yourself climbing again.

“Yes, just like that,” you panted, rolling your hips. “So good, Daddy.”

Roger switched his mouth to your other nipple, and you raked your hand through his hair. Brian pushed a third finger into you, and sped up, fucking you a little faster, his mouth working a little harder.

“Fuck,” you moaned, and Brian took it as a cue to step it up even more.

“Oh, fuck,” you said. “Fuck, I’m close.”

Roger’s kisses remained soft, and he kissed the valley between your breasts, then back up your throat. “You gonna come for us again?” he said, kissing your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. “Come on, sweetheart, let go. Wanna see you come apart.”

You sobbed, and Brian sucked on your clit, then you tumbled over the edge once again, and Roger swallowed your cry.

You’d barely come back to yourself when Brian started biting and sucking at your inner thigh. You managed a smile. Brian could never pass up the opportunity to mark you up.

“How long do you think you’ll need to recover?” Roger asked, sitting back.

You shook your head, then winced when Brian bit down particularly hard. “Uh, a few minutes at most. I’ll be sensitive, though, so it might be a bit harder for me to come again.”

“That’s fine,” Roger said. “We’ll just have to work harder. Isn’t that right, Brian?”

Brian lifted his head. “What?”

“I said, dearest, we’ll just have to work a bit harder.”

“At what?”

“Making me come again,” you explained.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Brian said. He surveyed his work, and then pressed a kiss to where your thigh was throbbing. “Fuck, that looks hot,” he said approvingly.

“You’re not even naked yet, Rog,” you said, plucking at the waistband of his underwear.

He grinned. “Wanna take them off for me?”

He shuffled back, and you sat up. Brian took the opportunity to surge forward and steal a kiss, then sit beside you, still keeping an eye on your thigh hickey, looking proud of himself.

Roger went onto his knees, and you dropped a light kiss to his stomach, then worked his underwear down to his knees. He was half-hard, and you let him sit back to kick his underwear away, then nudged him back onto his knees. You kept eye contact with him as you let a string of saliva fall from your lips into your hand, then slid your fist up and down his cock a few times, then brought your mouth to the tip to suckle at it.

Roger moaned, and it caught Brian’s attention. He pressed up close to you, pressing his teeth into your shoulder.

You resisted rolling your eyes at his neediness, then held out your free hand. “Spit,” you said to him, and he did, then you reached down and started jerking him off, and returned to Roger simultaneously.

Brian curled his fingers around your wrist, helping guide you into a good rhythm, which you appreciated – it was hard to keep track of what you were doing. There was no talking now; the only sounds in the room were the boys panting and moaning, occasionally swearing, and you lightly sucking Roger off, the slick sound of you jerking them off.

You worked them both until they were fully hard, Brian basically pawing at you in desperation, Roger trying not to buck his hips.

“I need to fuck you,” Roger moaned. “I need to fuck you right now, Jesus.”

“We both do,” Brian said, a touch irritably.

“You’ve already just about come,” Roger countered. “I’ve only barely got my undies off.”

Brian sighed heavily. “Ugh, all right, then,” he grumbled.

Roger stopped your hand, guided your head away, and dropped onto his haunches, kissing you. “How d’you want me, sweetheart?” he asked.

“I don’t mind,” you said. “Whatever you want.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“How about riding me, would you wanna ride me? I’ve missed seeing you bouncing in my lap.”

You bit your lip. “Mm, yeah, sounds good to me.”

Roger kissed you again. “Just getting the stuff,” he said. “Keep Brian entertained so he doesn’t start whining again.”

“Oi,” Brian said, but he quickly shut up when you turned to him and kissed him, continuing to wank him off.

You heard Roger heading to his wardrobe and fishing out lube and condoms, and then the bed dipped as he made his way back to you. “My turn,” he said gleefully, wrapping his arms around your middle and kissing your shoulder, making you jump in surprise, giggling.

You twisted in his arms to kiss him, and then he let you go, shuffling back, lying down.

You took a condom and ripped the packet open with your teeth, waggling your eyebrows at him. When you took the condom out, you glanced at Brian. “You wanna put it on him?” you offered, holding it out.

“No,” Brian said, deadpanned, and Roger slapped your thigh.

You shrugged. “Suit yourself.” You rolled it onto Roger, and then drizzled lube onto your palm, slathering it on his cock. He sucked in a breath.

You straddled his lap, and leant down to kiss him. He kissed you back eagerly, and then your hand was reaching behind you to find his cock, only to bump against his hand, which was already gripping it. You lined yourself up, and then slowly slid down, your breath catching at the stretch. Roger moaned, but stayed still as you took your time. It had been a while, after all.

You settled in Roger’s lap, wiggling your hips a little, enjoying the sensation of feeling so full again, finally. You clenched around him, moaning on a soft sigh, and Roger’s breath hitched. “Move,” he said, and you started rocking, building up until you were braced on his shoulders, fucking yourself on his cock.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You changed the rhythm, slowing down a little, feeling the drag of his cock in and out of you, and you leant down to kiss him. Your kisses small, exchanged between panting into each other’s mouths. His hands went to your waist, feeling the arch of your back, and you sat back again to quicken the pace.

You looked over to Brian, who was watching intently, but looked almost hesitant, like he didn’t want to intrude on such an intimate scene.

“Daddy,” you said, holding out a hand to him.

He crawled over, and you stop bouncing in Roger’s lap to cup his face in your hands, kissing him. “Can you touch me?” you breathed.

He nodded, transfixed by you. “Yeah,” he said softly. His hand went to your clit, massaging, and you rolled your hips against his hand.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” you moaned.

You went to speed up again, but Roger stopped you with a hand on your thigh. “Just take it slow, sweetheart,” he said. “Let Daddy touch you. Feels good, you clenching around me like that.”

Brian moved in closer – almost as if he was happy with getting Roger’s blessing of his involvement – and you tilted your head to the side so Brian could kiss and nip at your neck, your eyes closing, your hips rocking a little, rhythmically.

Roger swore under his breath.

You whimpered. “I…”

“What?” Brian murmured.

You shivered. “I just… It’s…” You didn’t know how to articulate it. Having both of you touch me like this is overwhelming, you wanted to say. I need both of you, all of you, I love this.

“It’s all right,” Roger said soothingly. “You don’t have to say anything.”

You dragged yourself up his cock and back down again, and he groaned, his hands flying to your hips. You pressed your hands against his chest, and then rolled forward, shuddering.

You took Brian’s wrist and guided it away, lifting it to your lips and pressing a kiss to it. “Don’t go too far,” you said. “As soon as Roger comes, I want you fucking me like this, here, from behind. Yeah?”

Brian’s mouth fell open, looking like his brain short-circuited, and you laughed. “W– Uh, yes,” he said. “Roger, are you all right…?”

“Sure,” Roger said with a grin. “Give it a go, why not.”

Brian shuffled a little further back, and you turned to Roger with renewed energy, fucking him with purpose now, and he let out a stuttering moan.

You kept going, feeling your own orgasm building deep within you, and Roger��s hips were thrusting up to meet yours. “Fuck, don’t stop,” Roger gasped. “I’m…”

You were vaguely aware of Brian rummaging around, trying to find the condom that had disappeared off the side of the bed.

Roger hit the perfect spot inside you, and you let out a cry, your hand going to your clit, rubbing furiously, moaning out Roger’s name.

Roger’s hips stuttered. “I’m so cl– close, sweetheart, shit.”

“Want you to come, Daddy, please.”

You were getting close yourself, and you looked to Brian.

He was squeezing his cock, almost in awe at the sight. When he noticed you staring at him, his hips jerked. “You look fucking incredible,” he said.

And that was the final straw. You came, your whole body shuddering, and you doubled over. You heard Roger blurt out your name, and then his chest tensed under your hand as he came right after you.

You took a few seconds to catch your breath, still twitching with the aftershocks. Your face felt hot.

You looked Roger, and the two of you smiled, and you leant down to kiss him. He gently pulled up, helping you lift your hips.

Your ass was in the air. You turned your head to look at Brian.

“Daddy,” you said, breathless. Roger kissed your jaw.

Brian bit his lip. “You sure you’re all right?”

You nodded, drained, but ready. “Fuck me.”

So Brian crawled over, and you turned your head to kiss Roger again as Brian settled on his knees behind you, between Roger’s legs.

When Brian pushed into you, you felt like the air had been sucked from your lungs.

Your head dropped onto Roger’s shoulder, and he rubbed your back soothingly. You bit down on his shoulder, hard, and despite the fact that he usually wasn’t into too much biting, he let you.

Brian hissed. “Christ.”

“Good girl,” Roger whispered, dropping a kiss to your ear. “You’re taking him so well, took both of us so well.”

Then Brian was buried to the hilt. You pulsed around him, an afterthought from your previous orgasm, and you felt him twitch inside you. “You… Is she all right?” he asked.

You let go of Roger’s shoulder, lapping at the bite mark in apology, and you nodded. “I’m good,” you murmured.

“Yeah, she’s good,” Roger said to Brian. Then to you: “Can you lift your head for me, sweetheart?”

You struggled onto all fours, and Roger brushed your hair from your face, his eyes watching yours carefully. Brian squeezed your hip.

“Brian,” you said.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me. Please.”

So he did. Starting off slower at first, but you could tell how pent-up he was, because it didn’t take much encouragement for him to fuck you faster. You tensed now and again from oversensitivity, but you could feel the beginnings of another orgasm, just out of reach.

Roger murmured praise to you, telling you how good you were, how gorgeous you looked like this, all fucked-out, and he kissed you and kissed you.

Brian kept up praise of his own, one hand still gripping your hip, the other smoothing up your back, down your sides, squeezing your ass every now and again.

You tilted your hips, and then Brian was hitting your G-spot, and you moaned pathetically, your back arching. Roger reached between you and began gently massaging your clit, and you sobbed.

“Fuck, Brian, you should see her face,” Roger said. “She looks incredible, keep fucking her like that.”

“Yeah?” Brian panted.

“Yeah, I think she’s getting close.”

You nodded, and Roger quickened his fingers.

Brian drove into you so hard that you almost bumped your forehead against Roger’s, and you put out a hand on the bed, above Roger’s head, to steady yourself. “Fuck, Brian,” you moaned. “Please, Daddy.”

“Fucking…” Brian maintained the pace, hard and deep. “Come on my cock, come on.”

“Come for us,” Roger said. “Come on, sweetheart, you’re so close, I can feel it, wanna see your face. Come all over Brian’s cock, I know you want to, come on.”

You let out a gasping sob. “Please,” you whined, although you didn’t even know who you were talking to anymore. Both of them at once. You were teetering on the edge, your body screaming at you.

Roger pulled you in for a searing kiss, and then Brian nudged your G-spot again, and you were coming, feeling it roll over you like a broken dam, your heart beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird, your body trembling. Roger felt it under his fingers and he kissed you like it was a victory, like he was over the moon, and Brian cried out, coming as he felt you pulse around him.

“Good girl,” Roger said, kissing you. “So gorgeous, so good for us.”

You were trying not to collapse on top of him with Brian still inside you, but all of your limbs were trembling.

“Fuck,” Brian said weakly, and then he pulled out of you and fell onto all fours, crawling beside Roger. “Come here,” he said, and gently pulled you over towards him.

You fell in a heap between the two of them, and all three of you just lay there for what felt like an eternity. Not speaking, not cuddling. Just lying there, processing everything that had just happened.

You were the first to speak. “I am gonna be so fucking sore tomorrow.”

Brian and Roger chuckled.

“No, I mean it,” you said. “You two are gonna have to carry me everywhere.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Roger said. “You did come more times than either of us.”

“Combined,” Brian added.

“And just look at the consequences,” you said. “Really, you two got off easy.”

“Hmm,” Roger said again in thought, “like I said, you came more times than either of us. I think you’re the one who gets off easily.”

You snorted a laugh, slapping his chest with a floppy hand.

“I’ll go get a towel for you,” he said, rolling onto his elbow to give you a kiss, and then swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

He’d barely stood up before Brian ran his hand over your hip, squeezing it, and when you turned to look at him, he kissed you. “You’re fucking incredible,” he said.

You grinned.

“It’s true,” Roger said, from where he was throwing out his condom and pulling on his underwear. “You are.”

“I could get used to this,” you said. “Getting fucked and then told how amazing I am just for getting fucked.”

“If it meant more of what happened tonight, I’d be more than happy to slather on as much praise as you like,” Roger said. “Back in a sec.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” you called. He gave you a wink as he left.

Brian grimaced, and rolled onto his back to take off his spent condom, tying it closed. “Ugh, I hate it when you do that.” He dropped it beside the bed.

“Do what, Dad?”

“Eugh, no! Not Dad! Why does he get Daddy and I get Dad?”

“Because you hate it so much,” you said with a giggle. “And you’re a drama queen.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “I am not a fucking…” He shook his head, and just kissed you.

Roger returned a few moments later, damp cloth in hand. He didn’t interrupt you and Brian – well, he didn’t intend to, but the moment the cloth touched your skin, you leapt five feet in the air.

“Rog, that’s freezing,” you gasped.

“Oh, shit, forgot to warm up the water, sorry,” Roger said. He scrambled to his feet. “Sorry, I’ll be back.”

He disappeared out the door.

“Check-in?” Brian said.

You smiled at him. “I don’t know how the fuck that worked so well,” you said, “but it worked really fucking well, and I am actually kinda really proud of us.”

Brian smiled. “Me too.”

“And whatever this weird… situation is between us, I really love it, and I don’t want it to change.”

Brian’s smile widened. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

Roger bolted back into the room and closed the door behind him, his eyes wide. “I, er, just walked in on your roommate and some girl getting it on in the hallway,” he said slowly. “And they definitely noticed me. That’s fine, except I can never look Lucy in the eye again, because it’s very clear that I just had wild sex, and I’m in my underwear, and she was only half-dressed, and it’s all very awkward and awful and I’m going to never leave your room again, sorry.”

You laughed, and Roger hurried over, dumping the cloth on Brian’s chest with a wet slap and burying his face in your pillow.

Brian sighed, but picked up the cloth and passed it to you, and you wiped yourself down. “Well, you’re both welcome to stay over,” you said. You went to toss the cloth over the side of the bed, but Brian took it from you, and got to his feet with a groan, pulling on his underwear, tossing out his condom, and heading to the door.

You turned to Roger. “How’re you feeling about all this?” you said.

He turned to his face to you. “Great,” he said, his voice half-muffled by the pillow. “Yeah, I fuckin’ loved it.”

“Same,” you said with a smile.

“Bet you did.”

You sent him a mock-scowl, and he sent one back, making you laugh.

“I’m surprised how, like, not-jealous I was,” Roger added. “Even though Brian and I talked about it a bit beforehand, I was still expecting… I dunno. For me to get all jealous, and for him to get all cranky. But it seemed to work out.” He shrugged. “Probably ’cause it’s you. Everything seems to just work itself out when you’re involved.”

You went to respond, but Brian hurried into the room, and closed the door behind him. “So,” he said, and swallowed heavily, “I also just walked in on Lucy and that girl, but they’re now in the kitchen, and I just automatically went to the kitchen instead of the bathroom, but they were there, and it’s also very clear that I just had wild sex, and I’m in my underwear, and now both Roger and I are never leaving your room again.”

You sighed. “Guys.”

“Not my fault,” both Brian and Roger said simultaneously.

Later that night, you stirred as Brian climbed back into bed. “Sorry, just went to the loo,” he whispered, dropping a kiss to your forehead. You shifted back into Roger behind you, then ushered Brian close, and he wrapped an arm around you. You snuggled into his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

A few minutes later, you were just about to drift back to sleep when you heard Roger whisper behind you, “Brian?”

Brian grunted. “What?”

Roger shushed him. “She asleep?”

“Think so, yeah. Why?”

Roger hesitated. “Did you, um, have a check-in?”

“Yeah. Did you?”

“Sorta, yeah.”

“Okay.”

A beat.

“Did you wanna do one?” Roger asked.

“What for?”

“You know what for.”

“We didn’t sleep together.”

“Well, no, but…” Roger sighed. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Wait, no, sorry,” Brian said. “The rule about check-ins is that you can’t back out of one. So. If you’re asking for one, then I can’t say no. And you’re right, anyway.” He took a breath. “I had a really nice time tonight. And I– I felt comfortable. With you. And I… I’m glad we got to do it together. And I’d be happy to do it again.”

“Same,” Roger said. “I, um– I’m happy, with this.”

You tried to suppress a smile. But it was hard. This was fuckin’ cute as hell.

“Great,” Brian said. “Good. That’s– that’s good.”

“Yep,” Roger said. “So, um. G’night.”

“Night, Rog.”

They both settled down again, cuddling in closer to you. You felt Roger’s arm tighten around your stomach, and Brian’s around your ribs. Roger pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, and Brian to your forehead.

You bit your lip, but it was too late – you were beaming, your heart ready to burst.

You closed your eyes, and allowed yourself to sink into the warmth of the two bodies wrapped around you.

“Wait,” Roger hissed. “Brian.”

Brian groaned softly. “What?”

“Do you think Friday’s still on?”

“What?”

“We arranged to do this on Friday. D’you think tonight cancels that out, or...?”

“Christ, Roger–”

“Shh.”

Brian huffed, and then lowered his voice again. “I don’t know, is my answer. We can talk about it in the morning, all right? You’re bloody insatiable.”

“I was just wondering,” Roger said, and you could hear the sulky pout in his voice.

“Yes, it’s still on,” you mumbled.

You felt them both start in surprise, but you just pulled them both close again. “It’s still on,” you said again. “Now go back to sleep.”

They both settled down again.

There was a blissful moment of silence.

“Do you wanna fuck her first next time, or–”

“Roger, I swear to God.”

“I was just trying to be nice! Jeez.”

You smiled.

#mine #my writing #try verse #try series #roger taylor x reader #brian may x reader #roger taylor x reader x brian may #queen fanfiction #smut #rpf

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 5 years ago

Text

Bright Smiles and Tired Eyes ~ part 1

(i posted this the first time as an answer to a prompt. but i’m adding more so i’m gonna post them in parts as i write them! I’ll try and ad links to each of the previous parts but i’m forgetful so no promises, i’ll be adding the chapters on my ao3 as well so i may just link to that as i go, it’s easier! this is just the original part! i’ll update once i get the second chapter finished! enjoy guys!!! <3)

Summary: Modern Au, Punk!Jaskier, Creature!Jaskier. Geralt needs a new roommate to help him pay rent. Jaskier answers his ad. Through a handful of circumstances and series of events... there’s bed sharing. And some angst.

Word Count: 5990

Ao3

Finding a roommate had been… more difficult, than anticipated. Geralt wasn’t sure why he was surprised, people didn’t want to room with him for the same reasons no one wanted to give him work. Witcher’s were… disliked, to say the least. Yennefer had helped him put an ad together, his had been… short winded. She’d worked her magic, no pun intended, and wrote him an ad that was at least promising. She’d refused all his grumblings about her just moving in with him, to help him out. She refused to live with ex’s, even if they were still very good friends. The ad helped. His appearance and… profession, did not.

He’d met with several people already. At least ten, maybe more, he’d lost count and was getting tired. Tired of people coming into the small shop and sitting in front of him, reeking of fear. Tired of people seeing him and turning right around again to march out the door, not even giving him the curtesy of a ‘no thank you’. Tired of being gawked at, and refused, and glared at. He’d been spit on once and had put his fingers through the edge of the table, gripping it tightly, instead of putting his fist through their head. He liked the girl who ran this shop, she was nice, sweet, and she wasn’t afraid him. She was also dating Yennefer and he didn’t want to get on, either, of their bad sides, by starting, and finishing, a fight.

It had been three weeks, if he didn’t find a new tenant soon, he’d have to move, and that would just be worse, he’d never find another place that would give space to a witcher. He moved his finger in small circles on the table top, looking up when he heard the bell on the door chime. The man who walked through was… not human. Not entirely at least, there was a very strong other smell to him. Geralt couldn’t pin it down though, it was buried under the scent of his cologne, and something else that smelled like… cinnamon. His hair was spiked into a bright blue mohawk, tattoos were scattered across the skin that Geralt could see, his flannel stopped at his elbows. There were piercings too, Geralt could see them catching the light as he moved to the counter and ordered a coffee, something sickeningly sweet.

Geralt watched Renfri make the order and hand it to the man with a smile. He nodded his thanks and then turned gracefully, his eyes, bright as fire in the night, scanned the room. His shinning eyes landed on Geralt and he nodded, Geralt wasn’t sure if he was nodding at him or to himself so he sat still, his eyes going back to the table top. He heard the man approach slowly.

“Geralt? That you? From the ad?” his voice was like honey and Geralt’s stomach dropped. He looked up at the man and nodded. He smiled down at him in return, and pointed at the seat across from Geralt, his eyebrows arched in question. Geralt nodded again. He sat.

“So umm… I feel like I should maybe open with the fact that I’m not human. And uh… clearly, you’re… a witcher. So if me being… not human, isn’t okay for you, I can go. I just-“ his hands were fiddling nervously next to his coffee cup.

“I just wanted to be honest up front. And not just because I’m worried you’ll kill me.” He laughed, awkwardly, cleared his throat, and took a very large swig of his coffee. Geralt watched him, watched his fingers wrap around the cup, his eyes moving over the music notes tattooed across his knuckles. He let the man set his coffee back down before he spoke.

“I’m not going to kill you.” Geralt said, picking up his own cup, bringing it to his lips.

“Yet.” He said and took a drink, trying not to smirk as the man squirmed in his seat before smiling softly, catching the joke. And that… was new. The man nodded, his mohawk not moving at all on his head, Geralt eyed it and then moved his eyes back to his face, he was wearing eyeliner, like those eyes needed any help standing out, and there were two lip rings shining against his bottom lip, more scattered in his ears. Geralt watched him take another sip of his coffee and thought he saw a tongue ring too as the man’s tongue ran quickly over his lip.

“So what are you? If you don’t mind me asking.” Geralt laced his fingers together on the table and watched the man in front of him. His cheeks reddened, and there was something in his eyes. Geralt thought it looked suspiciously like shame.

“Uh… A uh.. a siren. Well half of one, anyway. On my mother’s side. And I don’t- I don’t use it. The- the siren thing. It’s just- it’s just sort of there. I don’t use it on people, that would be…bad.” He finished lamely. His hands clasped together on the table, tightly, the scent of shame pouring off of him in waves. He was staring at the table, and for the first time since he’d seen the man, the scent of fear hit Geralt’s senses. Geralt stared at him, looked at him for a very long time, he knew that look, and he knew that smell. It wasn’t just fear. Or shame. It was both, dancing together across the man’s skin. He wasn’t afraid of Geralt, not the way he probably should have been, he was afraid of Geralt’s reaction. No doubt trained to be frightened of it through past experiences. Geralt felt an odd urge to reach out and comfort the man, he frowned and shoved the urge deep.

This man, who wasn’t just a man, was sitting in front of him, not afraid of the witcher in front of him, but afraid that the person in front of him, would hate him. Hate him solely for what he was, despite not knowing him, just knowing what he was. Geralt looked at him, and knew that feeling well.

“What’s you’re name?” The man’s eyes shot up from the table, he stared at him, blue eyes shining. Geralt raised his eyebrows, and waited.

“Ah! Um, Jaskier. I’m Jaskier.” He reached his hand out, clearly an instinct, his eyes flashing with worry immediately as his hand crossed into Geralt’s space. Geralt lowered his eyes to the hand extended to him, he watched it move back, the smallest amount, an unsure movement that was, somehow, endearing. He moved his hand up and placed in the hand that was offered, the man, Jaskier, smiled at him, and they shook.

“Geralt.” Jaskier smiled again, dropping his hand back on the table, fingers tap out a small rhythm.

“The room’s yours if you want it.” Geralt knew this was probably a bad idea. And he knew more, that Yennefer was going to yell at him, call him irresponsible, and, most likely, a great many other thing. But as sat here, looking across the table at the shining blue eyes of this shame filled siren, he knew he’d let her call him whatever she liked.

“Really? Are you sure? I mean, if you’re at all uncomfortable- I don’t want to impose or anything or- or get in your way. Or get you in… trouble. With the… witcher…people.” He narrowed his eyes, obviously knowing he sounded like an idiot as the words staggered out of his mouth. Geralt took a sip of coffee to hide his smirk, at least he knew he sounded ridiculous.

“The… Witcher people, will be fine. And I’m sure.” He slipped his fingers into his pocket and slid the small business card across the table.

“That’s the address, you can move in as soon as you want. Do you need any help?” He wasn’t sure why he’d asked that. He’d never offered his help to anyone before, well, to an extent. He’d offered to kill monsters, but never to help someone move. He didn’t even have a truck, or a car, no vehicle to help move anything. He furrowed his brow, mainly at himself.

“Oh no, I’m alright. I don’t have much.” He slid his hand across the table top, pulling the card to him, it disappeared from his fingers before Geralt’s eyes and he found himself wondering for the first time if Jaskier was maybe something other than just half a siren.

“But thank you.” His voice was soft. He drummed his fingers for a moment, filling the silence spreading between them, and then slowly stood up. He waved, took a couple steps and then turned around again.

“Seriously thank you. I’ve been looking for a place for ages. No one- no one seemed to want to give me a chance.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes glancing between the floor and Geralt. Geralt nodded and felt his lips move into a small smile.

“I know the feeling. See you soon Jaskier.” The man, Jaskier, smiled down at him, nodded, and turned to leave again. Geralt watched him go, watching the graceful way he walked despite the clunky combat boots on his feet. Geralt couldn’t stop his eyes moving slowly up the man’s back, the black skinny jeans hugging his legs and hips snuggly, there was red bandana peeking out from under the blue and back flannel that covered his ass and hung nicely on his broad shoulders. He watched Jaskier pull the door open, he spun on his heel, giving Geralt a small wave. Geralt raised his hand in return and watched Jaskier disappear down the street. He looked back to his coffee, took a sip, and wished he’d asked for something with cinnamon.

“Well he seemed nice.” Geralt jumped as Renfri threw herself into the seat Jaskier had left empty. She stared him down, chin resting on her hands, a smile on her lips and a knowing look in her eyes.

“Shut up Renfri.” He grunted, pushing himself out of his seat and walking out the door.

~*~

He moves in two days later. And he was right when he said he didn’t have much. He brought a bed, a small dresser, one duffle bag of clothing, and two instruments. A guitar strapped to his back, and a keyboard hung over his shoulder. Geralt helped him with the bed and the dresser, the delivery men had just dropped them on the sidewalk. Jaskier had knocked on his door looking sheepish. Geralt brushed it off and easily carried his things in for him, helping him set his room up the way he wanted it. The room was spacious, Geralt lived in a good-sized loft, and Jaskier’s few items made it seem, achingly empty.

Geralt left him to his own devices after they got his things settled, letting Jaskier wander around the apartment, looking things over, his fingers drumming against his thigh, he was clearly forcing himself not to reach out and touch everything in sight.

“You can touch things if you want. It’s not a museum.” Geralt smirked when Jaskier jumped, but smiled when the musician smiled at him and turned back to the bookshelf he was walking by slowly, his hand immediately reaching out, fingers brushing over each title gently, Geralt noted that his nails were painted black. The smile stayed on his face as he looked through the books.

“I didn’t realize I was moving into a library.” Jaskier called over his shoulder, his mohawk was green today, a dark emerald color, it only served to make his eyes even more vibrant.

“You can read them if you want. What’s mine is yours.” Geralt waved his hand toward the bookcase as he stepped into the kitchen, shoving his sleeves up his arms.

“Is that so?” he could hear the insinuation laced in Jaskier’s voice and froze. He turned to look at him, Jaskier was leaning against the bookcase, book open in his hands, one foot tucked over the other, his flannel was red today. He must have felt Geralt staring, he looked up from the book, eyes wide, inquisitive.

“What?” he asked, his face a mask of innocence. Geralt actually couldn’t tell, if it was a mask or not.

“Nothing. Sorry.” He shook his head and continued into the kitchen, his shoulders rolling, trying to move the tension out.

“You hungry?” he called, opening the fridge.

“I could eat.” His voice sounds, far away. Geralt glances past the fridge door and sees him still standing there, nose in the book, his eyes darting back and forth over the page. Geralt starts grabbing things out the fridge, sets them on the counter.

“You like pasta?” he asks, watching him stand there and read.

“Hmm?” he hums, not listening at all. Geralt smiles then, really smiles, and turns to hide it.

“You can sit on the couch you know? You don’t have stand.” Geralt grabs pots and pans and spoons and all the things he’ll need.

“What? Oh. Thanks yeah. Hey did you say something about pasta?” Jaskier’s voice gets louder as he walks toward the kitchen, he throws himself onto one of the stools at the island, Geralt glances back at him and he freezes.

“Am I gonna be in the way here?” he points at the marble island top where he’s set his book down. Geralt shakes his head and continues working.

“Do you… want help?” Geralt can feel him leaning to the side, trying to see what Geralt’s doing.

“You know how to make pasta?”

“Well that depends.” He hears Jaskier flop the book over, keeping his place.

“On what?” Geralt turns then, leaning back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Is it pasta from a box? And sauce from a jar? Or is it like, pasta pasta? And homemade sauce?” Jaskier is smiling at him, not a bright smile, a soft smile, just tilting the corners of his lips a little.

“Which one can you make?” Geralt asks, trying hard not to return the smile, his resolves slips a little when Jaskier leans back on the barstool and grins.

“You look at me, and tell me which one you think I can make.” He flattens his hand over his chest, his palm covering the design of the band shirt he’s wearing under his flannel. Geralt snorts.

“Box pasta. All the way.” He shakes his head and turns back to the counter, his cheeks burning at the look in Jaskier’s eyes.

“Wooow! Unbelievable. Ye of little faith!” his voice is full of drama, and humor, and happiness. It makes Geralt’s skin tingle. Without his permission he turns back to Jaskier, body moving on its own.

“So you can make real pasta then?” Geralt looks at him, one eyebrow cocked high. Jaskier looks at him, smiling still, brightly this time, his tongue running over his bottom lip, teeth coming down to pull the lip between it, his lip rings making small sounds against his teeth. He doesn’t hold the stare long before he’s snorting.

“Oh fuck no. Look at me. I’ve been eating SpaghettiOs out of a can for three months. The best thing I can make is grilled cheese.” He flips the book back over, that maddening smile still on his lips.

“But it is a mean grilled cheese. Add some tomato soup on the side and it’s a gourmet meal for me.” He glances up at Geralt quickly and then back to the book, his smile falling slowly as he gets pulled back in by the words on the pages in front of him. Geralt watches him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes for the first time. He has them hidden so well with his eyeliner that if you’re not looking closely you miss them. Geralt supposes that that is the point. He sighs and begins cooking. Jaskier reading at the counter, the small noises of, him, a comfort in the normally silent apartment.

“I forgot to mention I was a musician. I hope that’s not a problem. I mean, I figured you’d have said something earlier than now, like when you saw the guitar, but you also sort of seem like the kind of person to not want to say much. Even if you really really wanna say something. So I thought I’d bring it up incase it’s an issue for you. But I do have headphones, so I won’t be like, having jam sessions or anything did you really make those noodles that’s insane, that you can do that.” Geralt jumped at the sudden talking, and raised his eyebrows at the sudden onslaught of words coming from the man behind him. He turned to look at him and found the book he’d been reading closed and pushed to the side, he felt his cheeks heat up at the thought that Jaskier had possibly been watching him for some time.

“Can you have jam sessions with an acoustic guitar and a keyboard?” Geralt smirked at him, Jaskier rested his chin on his hands and looked at him.

“I’ve had jam sessions with less.” He quirked an eyebrow at Geralt, challenging him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest again, the noodles boiling behind him.

“I have! I once had a session with nothing but a metal spoon, a bucket, and half a tambourine.” He dropped his hands onto the counter and smiled again. Geralt huffed, all this guy did was fucking smile. And the worst part was, it was warm, and infectious, and fucking genuine.

“Half a tambourine.” Geralt mused, turning away again, stirring the noodles and the sauce before walking to the pantry. He pulled out a loaf of bread and heard Jaskier gasp.

“Are you about to make actual garlic bread with that fancy Aladdin bread right there?” his hands were flat on the island top now, slender fingers splayed out in front of him. Geralt paused and looked at him.

“Aladdin bread?” he repeated back to him. Jaskier nodded excitedly, hopping off the barstool and walking around to where Geralt was standing, moving into his space slowly and taking the bread from him gently.

“Yeah! Aladdin bread, like in Aladdin, at the beginning when he’s stealing bread and running from the guards with Abu and it’s a perfect little loaf like this one?” Jaskier does a twirl, spinning easily in the small space and brandishing the loaf of bread like a sword, the end level with Geralt’s chest, the exact spot someone would shove a knife to strike his heart. Jaskier was still smiling, wiggling his eyebrows at him. Cheeky. Geralt brough his hand up the bread, curling is fingers around the loaf.

“Right. And, in this situation.” Geralt stepped closer, pressing into Jaskier’s space the way he’d done to him. He watched Jaskier swallow roughly, eyes wide, nodding for Geralt to continue.

“Are you Aladdin. Or the monkey?” his voice was dry, he pulled the bread from Jaskier’s grip easily, poking him in the chest gently to guild him out of the way. Jaskier squawked, mock offence filling his voice as he held his hands up in surrender and backed away, letting Geralt push him out of his space. He settled on the barstool once more and continued to watch Geralt cook.

Geralt was used to being stared at. People stared at him all the time. This was different though. This stare wasn’t… hateful. It was… curious. Jaskier watched him with eyes full of curiosity, tracking his movements like a cat tracking a bird through a window. Geralt could feel his gaze on his back, eyes moving over his body, and for the first time, in a long time, he didn’t feel threatened by it. Or objectified by it, though Jaskier was no doubt looking at him… in that way. Geralt could smell it on him, he could smell how… appreciative, Jaskier was. He rolled his shoulders as he began mixing the garlic for the bread and heard Jaskier sigh behind him, a small thing, barely there.

He glanced over his shoulder, the feel of Jaskier’s eyes on him gone now, and saw the man had rested his head on his arms. Geralt knew he wasn’t sleeping, his heart beating at a regular pace behind his ribs. Geralt lips twitched again and he shook his head, finishing the garlic mix and brushing it onto the bread. He popped it in the oven and waited, resting against the counter, and letting his eyes fall to the musician half asleep on his island. His green mohawk was scrunched against his arm, his eyes moving behind his eyelids, fingers twitching where they rested on his arm.

Geralt could hear his heartbeat slowing as sleep tried to take him. His eyes moving faster and faster behind his eye lids. Geralt was sure he was nearly asleep now, his heart beating slower and slower. And then he flinched. His whole body jumping as he sat up, blinking hard at the bright lights in the kitchen, Geralt turned away quickly. He watched Jaskier’s reflection in the window on the stove. He rubbed at his eyes and pulled the book closer to him, flipping through it until he found his place. He rested his chin in his palm and began reading, his tired eyes moving slowly, blinking hard a few more times. Geralt felt a tug deep in his chest, his fingers itching at his side, and then he jumped himself when the timer on the oven began to ding.

~*~

Jaskier doesn’t sleep. At least he hasn’t. Not for the week he’s been around. Unless he sleeps when Geralt is gone. Which is possible. But the dark circles under his eyes get darker every day. And Geralt hasn’t known him that long, but he’s starting to worry. He lays down that night, barely sleeping himself most nights, and he listens.

He’d told Jaskier he wouldn’t be home until late. And then he’d gotten home early. He got cleaned up, took a shower, peaked through the crack in Jaskier’s door and saw him sitting at his keyboard, headphones draped over his neck, his fingers moving nimbly over the keys. Geralt stared for a moment longer and headed to his room. He threw himself onto his bed, his body tired, the job hadn’t been terrible. Just chasing off a few rowdy young werewolves. They’d barely put up a fight before running off back home. But the small fight had left him aching, getting throw into walls would do that. He laid in the dark, listening to the small sounds coming from across the hall.

And then Jaskier started singing.

He realized he’d made a mistake immediately. The sound of Jaskier’s voice immediately making his head fuzzy. He pushed himself out bed with a grunt. His feet stumbling beneath him as the haunting voice filled the halls of their apartment. He used every ounce of energy inside himself to shove his body through his bedroom door. He took two steps and had to brace himself against the wall, his head was swimming, his ears ringing, Jaskier’s voice filling his ears and pulling him under. He made it another step before he fell, his body falling into Jaskier’s door and then slamming to the floor as the door swung open, hard, knocking into the wall. Jaskier’s voice caught in his throat as he jumped out of his chair and stumbled backwards, hands flailing as he looked toward the door with wide eyes. Geralt laid on the floor, still unable to move his body properly.

“Oh fuck. Geralt! Shit no no no, you aren’t supposed to be home why are you hear?” he sounded panicked as he ran over to Geralt, falling to his knees next to him, his hands hovering just over Geralt’s body.

“Shit. Fuck I’m so sorry.” His voice was small. The cheer and happiness usually tinting his words was gone now, completely.

“Geralt. Fuck.” His hands finally settled on his own knees, moving up and down his thighs, the air around him was thick with worry.

“M’fine Jaskier.” Geralt mumbled as best he could, his cheek pressed roughly against the floor.

“No. You’re not. Look at you. I- oh hang on!” his hands flailed again as pushed himself off the floor, across the room in seconds, digging through his dresser for something. He made a small sound when he found it, and was back in front of Geralt in seconds. His slim fingers wrapped around something small and brown, both hands holding it, he brought it close to Geralt’s face and snapped it in half. Cinnamon filled his senses, his head cleared almost immediately. He grunted and pushed himself to his knees, noting how Jaskier scrambled backwards, moving away from him.

“I’m- I should- I should leave.” Jaskier’s voice was shaky, barely even a whisper in the silent room. Geralt picked up the broken pieces of the cinnamon stick Jaskier had snapped in front of him, holding them in his hand.

“Cinnamon.” He said, maybe a little dumbly. He looks up at Jaskier then, and what he sees makes his heart drop into his stomach. Jaskier had moved as far away from him as possible, his arms wrapped around himself, fingers digging into his ribs where he clutched at himself. There were tears falling down his cheeks as he stared at the ground. He looked impossibly small. Geralt pushed himself to his feet.

“It’s okay Jas-“

“No it isn’t!” he almost screamed it, his voice rising louder than Geralt had ever heard it. Jaskier sunk to the floor. His arms pulling his knees close to his chest as sobs fell from his mouth. Geralt crept closer, clenching his fists at his sides as Jaskier hid his face against his knees. He crouched down next to him, his hand reaching out slowly to touch his shoulder. Jaskier flinched, but Geralt left his hand there, refusing to move it.

“You didn’t do it on purpose.” He soothed, his thumb moving in small circles.

“It was an accident.”

Jaskier snorted humorlessly and looked up at Geralt, eyes full of self-loathing.

“It’s always an accident.” He says, voice thick with, something.

“I can’t fucking control it. And I- I could have hurt you.” The tears fall down his face like rain on a window. He bites his lip and sniffles, pulling the sleeve of his shirt down over his hand and wiping at nose.

“But you didn’t. I should have told you I was home. I saw you didn’t have your headphones on.” His hand moves off Jaskier’s shoulder as he stands, keeping himself pressed against the wall.

“You’re trying to make this your fault?” Jaskier scoffs.

“It’s at least a little my fault.” Geralt says, taking a few steps back, giving Jaskier some room. He smiles at him then, trying to show Jaskier that he really doesn’t blame him. It wasn’t Jaskier’s fault. They had an agreement. The only time Jaskier would sing out loud was when Geralt wasn’t home. And he wasn’t supposed to be home. And he hadn’t let Jaskier know he was in the house. Sure, Jaskier should have heard him, but he had been writing music, and Jaskier rarely hears anything when he’s writing music, or listening to music, or playing music, and reading books. He gets lost in his head so easily. So yes, Geralt didn’t just think it was his fault, he knew it was.

“I should have let you know I was home. That was the deal. I broke it. It’s my fault.” He looked at Jaskier pointedly, kept his eyes on him until Jaskier finally looked up from the floor. His eyes shining with tears.

“It’s okay. Okay?” Jaskier pulled his lip between his teeth and nodded. Geralt nodded back and stepped further away. He watched Jaskier for a moment, watched his hands finally fall to his sides, watched him all but collapse onto his bed, sitting on the edge picking a hole in the knee of his jeans. Geralt walked out to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. He peaked back into Jaskier’s room, he was laying on the bed now, arm draped over his eyes.

“Hey.” Geralt called quietly. Jaskier peeked at him from under his arm, Geralt tossed the bottle to him, he caught it easily.

“Thanks.” Was all he got in return, Jaskier’s voice still small.

“Get some rest.” Geralt said, trying his best to smile again, and pulled the door closed. He watched the line of light under the door until it went dark and went back to his room, hoping that Jaskier would actually get to sleep.

He’d just about drifted off himself when heard the screams. He sat bolt upright, his hands fisting in front of him, ready for a fight. The screams stopped and he realized it was Jaskier. Across the hall. Screaming in his sleep. He focused his hearing, reaching out in the dark. Jaskier’s heart was racing, Geralt could hear him whimpering now. Another shout rang out through the dark and he heard Jaskier flail in his bed, and then heard a thud as he fell out of it. He heard Jaskier struggle to get untangled from his sheets, and then heard him pad down the hall to the bathroom.

He heard Jaskier climb into the shower, even heard him crying under the downpour of water. He listened to him get dressed and then heard him pacing. He walked to Geralt’s door four times. Stopping in front it, pausing, and then going back to his room. His hand had even touched the doorknob at least twice. Geralt waited for him to pace back, waited for him to stop in front if his door, and then called out to him.

“Come in.”

He heard Jaskier gasp. But the door opened, Jaskier shuffled into the room, his pajamas hung loose on him, baggy pajama pants barely hanging onto his hips. He looked small again and Geralt wondered how he did that, went from looking as tall as Geralt, all broad shoulders and long legs, to looking like someone Geralt could put in his pocket. He stood in the dim ray of light from the hall, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Are you alright?” he asked, not moving from the bed, pushing Jaskier to says something, for fear that if he didn’t, Jaskier would just stand there all night, saying nothing.

“N- no. No not really. And um… I’m gonna ask you something. And it might sound odd. And you can say no!” he hurried to add, his hands held out in front of him.

“Just ask.” Geralt grunted.

“Can I um… Can I sleep in here with you?” he asked, Geralt said nothing, sensing he was going to say more, his own heart began beating loudly in his ears.

“It’s just that. I uh… I have these dreams. Well, they’re not dreams really. Nightmares. I guess, is what they are. They’re nightmares. And uh,” he sighed, pushing his hand through his hair, Geralt just now noticing the his spiked up mohawk was soft from his shower, he could a slight curl to his hair.

“I um… I usually have… someone to… someone to sleep with. It- it helps. Having some one to- just having someone… to-“ he cut off, his eyes on the ground, Geralt could smell the embarrassment coming off him, he rubbed his hand over his face.

“To hold you?” Geralt prompted. Jaskier’s eyes snapped up from the floor, meeting Geralt’s in the dark. He swallowed hard and nodded.

“It helps. Makes me feel safe.” He was worrying his pajama pants between his fingers.

“I know it’s weird. I just thought I’d ask, I didn’t mean to-“

“Come here.” Geralt waved him over, lying back on the bed, pulling the sheet up in invitation. Jaskier swallowed hard and shuffled forward. He climbed in next to Geralt slowly, laying stiffly next to him. Geralt snorted and moved closer to him.

“Get comfortable.” He moved his fingers to Jaskier’s arm and felt him shiver at the touch.

“You’re sure? Like really sure cuz I get a bit… clingy.” He pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked down at Geralt, the moonlight from the window shinning in his eyes.

“Cling away.” Geralt said, pushing a lock of hair from Jaskier’s forehead with his finger, pulling another shiver from him.

“Okay.” Jaskier breathed, looking down at him, motionless, for a moment longer and then lowering himself down, pressing himself against Geralt gently. His head laying on Geralt’s shoulder, his hand resting on his chest, settled above his heart. His legs pressed against Geralt’s, his foot twitching a bit. Geralt reached down, curled his fingers around Jaskier’s knee and pulled one of his legs over his own so that it rested between them. He moved his hand up to settle on Jaskier’s hip and felt him sigh, finally relaxing completely against him. The only part of him moving now was his fingers, tapping out a gentle rhythm on Geralt’s chest.

“I hate it.” Jaskier whispered. Geralt moved the arm underneath Jaskier to hold his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I hate that part of me so much.” His breath was warm against Geralt’s chest, Geralt dug his teeth into his lip, wanting to comfort him, be he wanted Jaskier to get it out, whatever it was that he needed to say.

“And everyone else hates it too. As soon as people find out what I am. The look in their eyes, it changes, ya know? It twists, into this, look. Like they- like they’re-“ Geralt can feel tears pooling against his chest, wet and warm. He hears Jaskier choke back a sob and moved his hand into his still damp hair.

“Like they hate you.” Geralt whispers, breathing the words into Jaskier’s hair. He feels Jaskier nod.

“They don’t even know me. I’m not… I’m not like that. I don’t like hurting people.” His fingers curl into Geralt’s shirt, clutching at it tightly.

“I know.”

“How can you know that? We just met. And you’ve seen it. You’ve felt it. What I can do.” He flattens Geralt’s shirt back out, pressing his fingers down against him, pressing out the wrinkles he’d created.

“Jaskier. If you wanted to hurt people, you’d be hurting people. And I’m not sure anyone could stop you.” He moved his fingers to Jaskier’s chin, tilting his head up, making him look at him.

“I don’t think even I could stop you. If you really wanted to, I think you could bring this world to it’s knees with that voice of yours.” He moved his fingertips over Jaskier’s lips, feeling him gasp against them.

“But you haven’t. And you won’t.” He moved his hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek.

“There’s too much kindness in you.” He presses his lips to Jaskier’s forehead and then looks down at him again.

“It shines in your eyes every time you smile. And you fucking smile, all, the time.” Geralt sighs, frustration lacing his voice. Jaskier snorts, his body shaking against Geralt’s. Jaskier pressed closer, his body moving into Geralt’s like it was made to be there, his arm snaking around Geralt and pulling him closer.

“Should I stop smiling? Sounds like it bothers you.” His voice was heavy with sleep now, the heartbeat pressing into Geralt’s side slowing. Jaskier snuggled his head harder into Geralt’s shoulder.

“Don’t ever stop smiling.” Geralt breathed into his hair. He felt Jaskier smile into his chest and moved his fingers slowly along his scalp, listening to his heartbeat and breathing slow as he finally drifted off to sleep. Geralt pulled him closer, holding him tightly in the dark, and let his eyes fall closed. He pressed his nose into Jaskier’s hair and hoped he could at least bring him some peace.

#bright smiles and tired eyes #bsate part 1 #geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #punk!jaskier #creature!jaskier #siren!jaskier #modern au #fic #my fic #my writing #the witcher fic #the witcher netflix fic #the witcher #the witcher netflix

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amarantine-amirite · 4 years ago

Text

A Portrait Of The Artist With Foot In Mouth Syndrome

Due to a combination of school closures and massive construction projects taking place at certain primary schools, my freshman year of high school was actually eighth grade.

That’s not important here. What’s important is that I have dodged the biggest bullet ever.

I had been making art since I was four years old, and at this time, I wanted to post my art on the internet. Aware of the dangers of giving away any personally identifiable information, I came up with an online nom de plume when I set up my Photobucket account. I punched in the painfully obvious moniker of "Fake Name".

I was still at risk. The same week that I set up my account, we had an assembly at school where the theme was “be careful about what you post”. The vice principal told us about a girl who got into some deep trouble because she wrote some weird poem about a silver banana. Someone interpreted the poem to be extremely phallic (obscene, even). She had no choice but to flee the country. The VP said it didn’t matter but she didn’t put it under her real name. They looked up her IP address, and used that to identify her.

That story scared the shit out of me. Who knew what others would think of my creative endeavours? Would they think they were obscene? violent? some other bad thing? There was no way of preemptively knowing.

I mainly restricted the art I put on Photobucket to the most anodyne things I could think of: lame-o abstracts that I made with the auto shapes in PowerPoint that I would cut and paste them into MS Paint. But that changed quickly. Within a week, I had moved on to bigger and better things: digital collages. The collages started off as your typical hodgepodge of snippets from photos in the news and incredibly generic backgrounds that you see online.

My art became more diverse as I learned new technology (such as photoshop) and I got bolder. My digital collages became more reflective of what I really thought and felt. They even incorporated my own drawings. Then came the day I learn how to code fractals. My digital collage got really wild after that.

But, there was one picture I did that became more significant in my mind than all the others.

I saw a thing on the Discovery Channel that talked about spontaneous human combustion. In high school I thought the idea of a person spontaneously combusting was very funny. It sounds terrible, but I found something about a person bursting into flames without any initial source of ignition inexplicably hilarious. One minute, you could be walking to get your mail and the next, you're doing your best impersonation of a Ford Pinto. Consequently, I made it my mission to do a piece related to spontaneous human combustion.

When I made the image, I tapped into my affinity for bad puns. I based my image on some play on the phrase "X is on fire!" (since, if you spontaneously combusted, you would literally be on fire). The end result had a black background with red, flame like dragon curves arranged to look like fire emanating from a girl in a hooded raincoat.

Months later, I began to have second thoughts. It occurred to me that when most people see a picture of a person bursting into flames, their first thought isn't "X is spontaneously combusting"...their first thought is "burn in hell, X". It didn't help that the image I used as a reference came from a Google search of the phrase "hell fire".

By Christmas, I started to worry that the girl's family would trace back my spontaneous human combustion picture to my computer, identify me, and I'd have to deal with the full extent of the wrath. It was so bad that I would get an intense feeling of dread if anyone mentioned bullying (not strictly cyber bullying, but also regular bullying), people getting fired/arrested over things they did online, or political correctness.

My anxiety got really bad in the spring. It bothered me so muhc that I felt compelled to come up with a hell of a defence (just in case it ever came up in court). It took me four months to get everything organized and write up the case. By the time I was done, it was 104 pages long.

Here’s a rough summary of what I wrote: "I understand that the girl in the picture was Eden Richmond of Sydney, Australia. I found the picture online at least a year and a half ago. At no point between now and then did I know that Eden had a terminal disease, let alone that she would eventually succumb to the disease less than 24 hours after I posted the image commonly known as This Girl is on Fire on Photobucket on. As an artist, I often represent scenarios that come into my mind, either dreams or my interpretations of current events. In this case, I attempted to represent the concept of spontaneous human combustion in a humorous and parodic manner. The idea behind such a representation lies in how I perceive the notion of a person combusting without any outside source of ignition. I personally consider the idea of spontaneous human combustion completely ridiculous and, in a strange way, funny. There is no objective evidence of spontaneously combusting people, and, through this, spontaneous combustion of a human being is nothing more than an urban legend and/or a dark element in absurdist humour. At no point was an image intended to represent spontaneous human combustion supposed to be a visual shorthand for "burn in hell", nor was it intended to represent anyone being eternally damned for any reason (if it were, there'd be a devil or two equipped with a very sharp pitchfork). I understand that placing an image of a person surrounded by flames can be construed as a visual shorthand for "burn in hell". I find it very strange that somebody would interpret this image as “burn in hell“, since it's the person, not the environment, that's combusting. However, I can see that it would make more sense to have the flames emanating from the person to convey the idea of the individual combusting spontaneously. From now on, I will make sure that I will adjust my art style before I attempt something like this again."

After writing it up, I felt better knowing that if I ever got in trouble for that picture, I was at least prepared to defend myself.

About a year came and went without anyone even caring about the picture. By that time, I had moved onto other computer programming related pursuits (demoscene, for example). The case that I wrote up about the spontaneous combustion picture stayed in a notebook in a drawer of a dresser in our basement; a relic of my adolescent paranoia. Time wore on, and so did my life. I went off to college, I worked a myriad of decent summer jobs, and all without repercussions of my spontaneous combustion picture.

Today, I realized that I dodged a bullet. When I signed up for Photobucket way back when, I came up with a handle (which was displayed) and my pseudonym (which wasn't, at least at the time). Nowadays, however; they updated the site so that your handle and your name are displayed together. It's a good job that I put my name as "Fake Name" when I signed up for it, because otherwise; I would have had my infamous spontaneous combustion picture linked to my real name.

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #short fiction #short story

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shadowling-guistical · 5 years ago

Text

Milestones

SUMMARY: After deciding to take a gap year, Virgil Sanders expected to enter his freshman year of college feeling anxious and out of place. But not if his childhood friends; Patton Hart, Roman Prince and Logan Croft have anything to say about it.

CHARACTERS: Virgil Sanders/Anxiety, Roman Sanders/Creativity, Logan Sanders/Logic, Patton Sanders/Morality, Thomas Sanders (mentioned/background), Remy Sanders (Mentioned/background) Dr. Emille Picani (Mentioned/Background).

PAIRINGS: Platonic LAMP but can be romantic if you squint and sorta tilt your head to the left.

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of therapy and medication. Discussions about university related stress

Read an extended version on AO3.

For @sanders-sides-fanzine‘s The Core of Us Fanzine! If you enjoyed this, consider downloading the zine (which is FREE!) and give the team and contributors some love!

It was, by all means, a normal summer day for one Virgil Sanders. He woke up, had breakfast, took his meds and logged on to chat with his close friends. That is, until his mother told him he had mail before she headed out to work. She had kissed him on the top of his head, as if she didn’t just send a jolt of electricity striking through his heart, oblivious as she handed him money to share with his siblings.

He excused himself from their voice chat and went down to retrieve it. As though psychic, each of his friends wished him luck in their own ways. They gushed and reassured him in their group chat while sending something totally separate in the Direct messages. Patton sent him a wholesome, motivating meme. Logan sent him a single question mark. Roman began blowing up his direct messages with fragments of excited texts. He in particular was excited for Virgil to finally join them in campus after taking a gap year for mental health reasons.

He passed by his baby brother watching his morning cartoons. His middle brother, Remy was probably still asleep. Virgil ruffled Thomas’ hair as he retreated back to his bedroom.

A whirl of emotions settled in his stomach after Virgil closed the door behind him. It began settling into a poisonous miasma of nervousness and dread, both very hot and very icy.

Virgil slid a nail edge under the flap- tearing it open. He took the contents out, scanned the words and-

…

“…Oh…”

His status soon went from online to idle and finally, offline.

That night, Patton spent his evening fretting over the lack of a reply. Where was the usual emoji of a purple heart? Frustrated, he finally stopped pacing around his room long enough to go down to the kitchen. His freckled face screwed in determination while he took out his mixing bowls. Now, what was the recipe for chocolate brownies again?

Logan waited with bated breath for that single exclamation point. Over the next few hours, he forced himself to calm down. He reminded himself that Virgil probably needed logic and reason the most at this moment. He put away his phone and began looking up the procedure for an admission appeal. The date shouldn’t be too far away, right? Or perhaps another institution nearby?

Roman found himself wishing for a snarky reply about how much they will be seeing each other on campus. He waited as time stretched out to midnight and beyond. Before he slept, he made a mental note to find his copy of Black Cauldron amongst his extensive collection of Disney Movies. A Disney movie night never failed to cheer his friend up!

Next mid afternoon, Virgil found himself nervously tapping his feet as he waited for someone to pick up the call he was making. He spent earlier that morning in his regular therapy sessions with his therapist. Virgil mainly talked about his current development of events. Doctor Picani had advised him to talk to his support system about his fears, and to be open to them. And that was what Virgil was attempting to do.

"Hello?? Virgil?"

Virgil swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

"Hey Pat… um…"

Patton, bless him, patiently waited for Virgil instead of bombarding him with questions.

"Take your time kiddo. Roman and Logan are with me, do you want this to be on speaker?"

"Yeah, Pat… That'll uh… That'll be swell."

Great. Might as well get this over with. There was a click and Virgil can hear rustling from the other line.

"Virgil," He heard Logan speak in his calm timbre, "Are you well?"

"Yeah I am actually… just ...well," A deep breath, "I got accepted Lo."

"Ah… Congratulations!" Logan sounded sincere, while there was a flurry of voices in the background. Probably Roman and Patton being excited.

"Thanks Lo…" Virgil sat down on his bed heavily.

"You don't sound so happy about it, J Delightful. You didn’t even came back to talk to us yesterday,”

"I am Ro.. I am… But… God. I’m sorry for being a jerk. When I read the letter. I was…happy. But…"

"…You panicked?"

"... Yeah…" Virgil mumbled, beginning to rub his eyes, "And it's not even because I'm struggling. Dr P and I are doing great! My meds are fine. He's teaching me how to deal with everything… But I still feel…"

"Unprepared…?"

Patton's calming voice sort of broke something in him, and Virgil felt his throat close up and his eyes water.

“…Scared…"

"Oh kiddo…"

"Virgil…You know that you don't have to go now. There's always the option of delaying or opting to start at the second intake,"

"I know that Lo…But I really want to go NOW. But ugh…" Virgil let himself fall back onto his bed and sniffed, "I just got so overwhelmed. Thinking of the things I need to pack, classes, paperwork…Picking a major. Where do I even BEGIN?"

"We understand. Look, me and Specs need to go soon. How do you feel about Patton coming over to keep you company? We’ll handle the other stuff later. Together."

"That's right Kiddo! I have some brownies here with your name on em!"

Virgil wiped his eyes with the edge of his hoodie sleeve, "That sounds… amazing, Pat. You'd do that?"

"In a Hart-beat," The pun made Virgil smile. "And if you want, I can help you find some on campus resources. The counselling department has some amazing counsellors,"

Virgil took a deep breath, and exhaling slowly, "... Yeah.. I think I'd like that…Thanks Patton"

"Excellent. I shall look up other relevant information for a later date."

"Right…" Virgil agreed, "Thanks L...Princey. I appreciate it a lot."

"Anything for our emo."

"See you soon Virgil!"

The next few days passed by like a blur. It was all hands-on deck, with Patton, Logan and Roman helping him in all matters big and small.

Patton came by, gave him a hug and fed him the brownies. Later, he sat with Virgil in front of his computer, guiding him on all the resources available on campus. After a while, Virgil found himself mulling very little as he sent an email to a counsellor on campus to set up an appointment. In fact, he daresay he started to look forward to it. Patton was there throughout the whole process, just generally providing the best help he could have ever asked for. Virgil asked him questions extensively, and Patton patiently answered each and every one.

His support and help prompted Virgil to later wear a small enamel badge he found while browsing a thrift store. It reminded Virgil that there are people looking out and supporting him at every turn in his life.

With an appointment with a counsellor now booked, Virgil turned his attention to his classes. In this area, Logan came in- keen and determined.

Armed with several sheets of printed out information, he came to Virgil's house the night after Patton left.

He explained Virgil's options, going through one suggestion at a time. He reassured him about choosing his major, telling him that he can remain undeclared as long as he needed to. But also to be mindful about what classes he decides to take. Highlighter in hand, they slowly but surely mapped out the classes Virgil could register in his first year. It was balanced in that it both provided enough time for him to settle in his new environment and for Virgil to still get the credit hours he needed.

It was because of Logan that Virgil started carrying with him a small nondescript journal. He wrote everything in it, from reminders to To Do lists. It helped him plan, and made him recall Logan's words that learning is always something that Virgil has control over.

Roman literally came in full force. Barging in early one morning and boisterously announcing his arrival to help him pack. Surprisingly, he was very helpful. He took the time to help Virgil organise everything and all the while, they just… talked. They bantered and joked. Each day, Roman never failed to show up. He skillfully took Virgil's mind of the stress of moving away as the date crawled nearer. He talked about the plays that will be put on that semester, promising to introduce Virgil to the cast and crew. Remembering their high school days, Virgil promised to consider trying out as the crew and Roman smiled encouragingly, saying nothing more.

And if Virgil started wearing a little red in any instance where he needed a boost of confidence, Roman didn't need to know that too.

Virgil admitted he took a little while to get to certain milestones compared to his peers. But as Roman's car began to move away from their neighbourhood, Logan's GPS pre-set to Florida University and Patton's brownies started being passed around, he realized that taking his time was well worth it.

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nightphans · 6 years ago

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A crumbling world

Hey this is lil fic I wrote with some help for phandom wars on twitter:)

One shot:

Genre: angst I guess,unrequited love:,),

Summary: dans world is crumbling.phil,his best friend,unrequited lover, whatever title you wanna use is dead.And dans falling falling apart.

And then he woke up.

Prologue (which I didn’t write):

Everything had seemed to be normal. Dan and Phil were out, just having a good day. They were walking home from Starbucks with lunch as it was pretty nice outside. Dan and Phil were crossing the street when Phil dropped his sunglasses in the road. He bent down quickly to pick them up, Dan had already crossed the street. Before Dan could react and before Phil could finish crossing the street, a high speed pick up truck comes through and smashes into Phil. A sound of glass breaks and the car comes to a halt. Dan drops everything he is holding and rushes over to Phil, sitting next to him. A shards of glass lay around Phil, his head bleeding out from the impact of the car and the ground. Dan let's out a blubbering sob as Phil breathes lightly, not speaking just looking up. Dan lifts Phils head into his lap. Phil just looked up. There was a bruise forming on Phils face. Phil was losing a lot of blood.

“Phil look at me, please stay alive please. Please” He whispered softly as he heard sirens approaching.

Phils body got cold. His breathing barely there.

“Please Phil stay here with me. “ Dan begged as Phil became pale, his body no longer ridded of human life.of joy.of spirit.

His eyes no longer had their spark. Only dead pools of blue. He sobbed as he carressed Phil's face. Phil let out a very tiny last breath before what little life he had left dissapeared. Phil died. Everyone watched as ambulance and police rushed them away. The driver only sat in their truck, shocked at what happened. Dan didn't noticed anything around him, his world crumbled as the only best friend he had was gone.

“N-no..n-NO THIS-TH-THIS CANT...PHIL” Dan pleaded, Phils blood on his hands.

Then everything went black.

•

Drowning.

Dan was certain he was drowning. The question was, in what? misery? depression? Perhaps even grief?

Scratch that.

It was tears.

Dan's eyes slowly cracked open. The familiar darkness in his room fell over him. He felt his sheets. He was in his bed. He felt terrible. Exhausted.

Sitting up slowly, he stretched out his legs. His hand brushing the back of his neck,immediately meeting the wet, warmth plastered on his neck,hair and cheek.

Strange.

Looking down, feeling around on the luminous white fabric hidden amongst the dark void of his room, it was apparent his pillow was stained left, right, and center with a puddle of droplets.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his burning eyes.They were tired,almost drooping in the anticipation of sleep.

Unfortunately every time he closed them he was reminded of everything.

A choked sob barely escaped his throat as he dwelled back on the dream only previous minutes, even seconds ago.

Phil.

God, that absolute shit. Of course, Dan knew he wasn’t really dead. And yet…..

It had felt so real.

He feared that if he closed his eyes again, the endless pool of black behind his lids would merge into yet another image, another nightmare in which he’d have to watch Phil’s lifeless form lay pale and limp, Dan’s best friend’s blood on his hands as he held him, watching him take his final breaths. Watching those sparkling eyes fade to a fragment of what they once were.

Watching The glow Phil seemed to always be emitting, faded out of existence.Reduced to just a memory.

Phil reduced to just a memory.

Dan closed his eyes,remembering the events that had caused his best friends sudden death.

A hint of bile seemed to rise up to his throat,mainly due to the recoil he felt at the realisation that phil could be removed from existence any day now.

Any.fucking.day.

And then Dan’s mind wandered ,what would it be like once he died?

Sure, people would miss him, he’d make an impact. But in the long course? In a century’s time? No one would have even known he was there.

The thought made him feel sick.

He’s joked about the inevitability of death but…..those were just jokes. In truth, it terrified him, it would terrify anyone, right? He wasn’t alone….right?

And anyways, He didn’t believe in a higher power, so where would he go after death? What would it be like? What would happen to everyone who ever knew him?

But then he recalled phils limp form in his own shaking hands,remembered the agonising screams that unknowingly left his own mouth while he called for help,for both himself and phil

Even the thought of ever sleeping again seemed like a fucking joke.

Dan closed his eyes, attempting to count to 10. He felt his exhausted body get begin to rest but his head continued racing. His eyes felt heavy. For days he got little to no sleep.

What if- no,don’t get distracted

What time is it anyway?

I wonder if Phil would’ve min-

Fuck it.

He lifted the duvet over his shivering body, slipping each foot into his slippers; which Phil, coincidentally, had given him for Easter. His thin, nimble fingers reached for the light switch on the wall.

His shadow seemed to be shaking behind him against the shimmering light, he looked away.

Phil wouldn’t mind, he thought, after all….we’re friends.

Best friends.

If only we were more

Dan clenched his fist, digging his nails into the layer of skin sitting upon his palm,focusing on the pain in order to erase those thoughts. He took in a deep breath, breathing in time with his own footsteps as he left the comforting yet depressive state of his own room, taking small strides until at last, his destination had been reached.

There was no point dwelling on what could have been.

The past was the past. He couldn’t change that.

If only he could.

If only he had made the move back then.

If only-

He knocked on the door.

After an awkward moment of silence and uncertainty Dan knocked again, he heard a muffled grunt, some footsteps followed by a shriek of pain and then a string of curse words.

Dan chuckled fondly, knowing Phil, he had probably stepped on a Lego-like object or something of the sort.

After two agonising moments filled with anticipation the door opened, a tired Phil revealed behind it.

Messy black hair, soft pale freckled skin, obnoxiously bright boxer shorts and a sore-on the eye blue t-shirt.

Phil

Rather than looking down to see 2 pairs of fierce, yet mesmerising crystals that were held within Phil’s eyes, Dan was met with the folds that covered them, blinking away sleep that probably seemed oh so desirable at the ungodly hour of 3am that Dan had never seemed to notice it was.

Dan smiled sheepishly once Phil finally looked up at him with slight confusion and perhaps a hint of annoyance. However, his expression changed completely when he seemed to notice how red Dan’s eyes were,how oddly pink cheeks were stained with cooling droplets,perhaps even the strained smile that had failed to mask dans evident emotions

“Are you okay?” Phil’s deep, sleep ridden yet concerned voice disrupted the natural flow of Dan’s thoughts.

Dan nodded absentmindedly, walking into Phil’s room and shutting the door behind him

“Sorry” he barely whispered, voice barely audible due to the scratchiness and obvious hurt from all the crying.

Who even thought of crying? A horrible adaptation really. Feeling vulnerable? Okay! Let’s make liquid pour out of your eyes, a key feature on your face, so everyone knows!

Thanks evolu-

“Dan?” Phil repeated for the third time, gently shaking the brunette, causing said boy to look up in a daze. He really needed to control his day dreaming.

Or night dreaming since it was like, 3am? If that was a thing.

God, he was a mess.

“Dan? Hello? I’ve been calling your name for the last minute….can you hear me?” his voice seemed to hold genuine concern, looking Dan straight in the eyes once he knew he had caught his attention.

Dan eyes began watering, tears brimming at the soft skin, skimming over the dark bags he had received in return of late nights procrastinating video ideas and aimlessly scrolling on the internet till the very peak of dawn.He couldn’t help but tear up seeing phil very much alive.

Thank god.

Phil shushed him, embracing him into a comforting hug. He had no idea what was going on, but what he did know was that this was Dan, who seemed so fragile and helpless at the moment.

Phil couldn’t bare to turn him away. Dan tried to hold in a shaking sob but it only made him cries louder. His breathing was shaking and he felt as though his lungs would collapse. Give in at any moment.

Dan wraps his arms around Phil’s body tighter. Their chests are pressed together, flesh touching flesh, and Phil feels so comfy and soft and warm. Dan’s crying into his shoulder, babbling incoherent pleas and apologies. “I’m sorry, i’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me. Please. I need you. So much.”

Phil runs his fingers through Dan’s messy hair, making him cry even more because he’s so scared of losing Phil. Losing his touch, his smile, his stupid puns. Dan can’t imagine a life without him.

“I won't leave you. I promise. “ Phil said softly, holding Dan gently, scared of breaking him almost. He wondered what could have made Dan fall apart like this, perhaps a bad dream?

Dan nodded,pulling apart reluctantly.He looked phil straight in the eyes and it only took phil to gently place his hands on dan for everything to come spilling out of his mouth,like an overflowing dam that had finally had its barrier removed.Or the gate separating celebrities from their fans had been broken down.

The thought almost made him giggle.

Almost.

By the time dan had explained everything to phil,he was engulfed in a comforting hug,Phil gently wiping away the tears freely roaming down dans face.

“- I just…..I was so scared I had lost you” dan blabbed openly while Phil listened “so fucking terrified,had to see your face completely pale and just horrible because fuck phil I love you so goddamn-“

Dan froze,breathing heavily and inconsistent. Fuck,did he just say that?

Did he really just say that?

Fuck

Before phil even had a chance to respond,dan was up.It had never been a natural instinct of his to face the consequences of what he did,it was always flee the moment he opened his goddamn mouth.

God. This was such a mess.

Dan was already ripping through the blankets,shaking heavily as he almost power-walked to the door,muttering small ‘sorry’s to disguise his obviously fractured breathing pattern.

Everything was spinning,why was everything spinning?

Suddenly an anchor seemed to pull him down,a steady being held him tightly,repeating his name over and over.

It was Phil,that was recognisable,so why couldn’t Dan answer back?

Oh right,he was having a panic attack.

After another 20 minutes of trying to calm dan down, Phil had succeeded. Of course,he was still crying and his breathing was still slightly fragmented and disjunct.

But at least he could breath

“Dan? honestly….” phil shook his head fondly,smile evidently concerned yet amused,eyes twinkling.

“You need to stop jumping to conclusions god…..did you seriously think I would get angry at you telling me you love me? I know that,I love you too,I always have” he chuckled

Dan's heart skipped a beat,his face showing a range of emotions. Confusion, happiness, surprise, hurt from the previous events.

“R-really?” Dan choked.

Phil nodded smiling “of course! You know that! Everyone knows that! After all, you’re my best friend”

And just like that, Dans world crumbled once again.

@phanfictioncatalogue @pfclibrary

#a crumbling world #phanfiction #angst #nightphans fics #yeet #phanfictioncatalogue #unrequited love #fanfiction #phanfic #phan #dan

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themagiciian · 7 years ago

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Floral Fluster - Ch. 1

Title: Floral Fluster Rating: General Chapters: 1/2/? Word count: 3,152 Relationship: Cagney Carnation / Mugman, Cagney Carnation / Rumor Honeybottoms (friendship) Other characters: Cuphead (mentioned), Elder Kettle (mentioned), The Devil (mentioned)

Summary: Inkwell Festival is in a few weeks time, and Rumor insists that Cagney goes to it. Perhaps insisting he goes with Mugman might be the encouragement he needs to come out of his shell?

Author’s Notes: This was intended to be a collection of one-shots. But I wrote way too much for it to be one fic. Though, I suppose this works well as just a one-off, I do plan on adding more to it sometime.

I was mainly inspired by all the cute Flower Tea fanart here on Tumblr, so I finally worked up the courage to sit down and write something after not writing for a very long time. My writing is very rusty, please forgive me.

Also... not sure exactly how to use Tumblr yet? I don’t know if it’s good for fanfiction or not, I suppose we’ll see.

I hope you enjoy. Hocus pocus... I’m out.

Cagney was antisocial. He could count all the friends he had on one hand. He was far from keen on social events - the last one he had attended was the celebration threw for the Cup brothers once they'd put the devil back in his place... That was well over a year ago by that point...

But, he had his reasons. Cagney liked his own company. He had his meadow of flower children that needed tending to. Most social events never interested him. Being alone was just easier. Yes, he didn't have to worry about anything but himself and his kin if he never left the forest, his home. But truthfully, above all else, he was more shy than introverted. He'd never admit it though, as much as he knew it was the truth. He kept himself to himself as much as he did because he was actually rather timid.

“Sometimes, I wonder, what scares you so much about leaving this forest?” Rumor Honeybottoms inquired. She was a good friend- very pushy, however, which was a blessing and a curse. Moreso a curse as she was always trying to push him out of his comfort zone - something he could never get used to.

“I'm not scared of anything,” Cagney replied with an audible scoff, running a hand over one of his petals. He turned his head away before adding; “I just prefer being alone. You know that.”

Rumor let out a short sigh, frustrated. “That grumpy facade doesn't work on me, dear. You know that,” she shot right back, one leg folded over the other, “and I know you know that everyone thinks you're just one, big, grumpy flower. But I can read you like a book, honey. It doesn't fly with me.”

Cagney only glanced back, holding eye contact for only a few seconds, before looking away again. This earned him another sigh, confirming her previous statement. There was a moment of silence before she continued.

“All I'm saying is… it wouldn't do you any harm to go out once in a while. I know you have friends you can visit. Why don't you go and visit the Root Pack? They're not too far away--” She paused when Cagney looked back at her again, glaring at her. That was a very clear “no”.

“I'm not interested in those rotten vegetables, Rumor,” The petals on his head sprung up a little, some of his thorns seemed to bristle out further. “They tried to dig out some of the little ones - they were just playing near the garden. And they called them weeds. I hate them!”

The “little ones” referred to Cagney's family of tiny flowers- or atleast what she has assumed were his kin. They'd already left the clearing when Rumor had arrived- she assumed they'd all hopped off deeper into the forest, up to their usual business. She reached out to pat Cagney's shoulder, hoping to relax him a little bit, as he was obviously agitated from the memory. That was one thing he wouldn't hide- he always held a grudge, especially when it involved his children. No one would ever expect Cagney to be a family man, but he really was protective of what he had.

Cagney leant into the contact slightly, reassuring himself that Rumor was only trying to help. She smiled warmly when he noticeably relaxed. “We'll avoid the Root Pack then.” She said, tone soft as ever, and he nodded. “How about Hilda? She's sweet. Or Goopy, perhaps.”

“I hardly ever see Hilda around. She's always off doing something else. And Goopy,” He groaned, before giving a huff, “he is the most obnoxious slime I've ever met. I hate his stupid puns and smug face…”

“I'm sure you're making this more difficult than it needs to be on purpose...” she was getting impatient, but her worried tone remained. The only response was a shrug.

There was a pause. About two minutes of quiet passed. Cagney was convinced he had upset her before she piped up again.

“I think you just need a girlfriend to pull you out of the ground. That would be the best solution.”

“Wh-what?! don't need a girlfriend!”

“Or a boyfriend, whatever your preference is. You know I won't judge, dear--”

“I- I don’t need a boyfriend! I don't need anyone!” He cried, his face flushed. He looked about ready to burst. Honestly, Rumor found his ridiculously flustered expression quite funny. She held back a chuckle and replaced it with a smirk instead. “I don't- I don't do romance.”

“You don't do anything, that's the problem here, mister!” She quickly replied, giving his arm a nudge. “Inkwell Festival is in a couple of weeks. Are you going to go? I'll be going with Cala and Grim to help set up.”

“...I mean, I wasn't planning to.” He sounded hesitant, and the look of disappointment on Rumor’s face made him feel bad. “Okay okay! ...Maybe. I'll think about it. I'll go if someone goes with me.”

She looked a bit more hopeful at this. “I know Cuphead is definitely going, and Elder Kettle. Tag along with them!”

Cagney went a bit quiet in thought, before shaking his head. “...Cuphead is a bit annoying-”

“Mugman, then!” She chirped, interrupting him, taking Cagney by surprise. “Mugman is sweet. I know you like him.”

Another pause.

“...I…Okay. I'll go with Mugman.”

Rumor smiled brightly, clasping her hands together. “Good!” She beamed, her wings buzzing to life as she began to take off. “I'll tell him he has someone to go with, then. But for now, I must go. The hive gets chaotic if I leave for too long.”

Cagney crossed his arms as she gave him a pat on his petals before she finally flew off.

***

A couple of days had passed. He had heard nothing from Rumor, or Mugman. He was secretly relieved. Maybe they'd just forget… And maybe he wouldn't have to go.

Then again, Rumor coming down and pulling him up out of the ground to come with her wasn't completely out of the question either. 'God gave you legs so you could walk!’ He could imagine her yelling, and he softly sighed.

He waited a little while longer… nothing.

It was already late noon. And in the midst of Autumn, he knew it would be getting dark relatively soon. He figured no one would want to trek through the forest to come see him in the darkness (besides maybe the aforementioned queen bee).

Naptime, Cagney thought to himself- he always found himself feeling more sleepy in the cooler months. Some of the flowers below him were already dozing off, a couple of tulips had begun nuzzling themselves up to his roots, their beady black eyes beginning to close sleepily. He smiled down at them, before curling up his long body around the little gathering of plants, head resting on the ground next to them, arms wrapping around the group of tiny flowers. A content sigh escaped him, his eyes shutting, quietly drifting off into a slumber...

He didn't know how long it had been since he had fallen asleep, but feeling something gently tingle across the top of his petals, whatever is was (a gust of wind maybe?), wasn't about to wake him up. He grumbled quietly, nuzzling closer to the ground, sighing through his nose. Not too long after, he felt it again, followed by a muffled sound…

“Mister… Mister Carnation…? Are you okay?”

His eyes didn't even open. His petals only twitched. Cagney was still half asleep, but he could detect that that it was a hand that was feeling his petals. Not wind like he thought it was. His eyes lazily cracked open, his vision blurred whilst his orange pupils adjusted to the sudden light, looking up in the direction of where the hand was petting from… it was something… blue…

“I can go, if you want me to, Cagney, sir…”

Cagney blinked a couple of times. That soft-spoken and kind voice was really drawing him out of his weary state, not to mention that petting, unconsciously leaning towards the hand…

“Mugman…” He mumbled, before blinking that last bit of sleep out of his eyes. And suddenly his eyes shot wide.

Oh God it was Mugman. Oh God he had actually turned up. Oh God why was he letting himself just be pet like this.

Cagney abruptly jolted upright, thorns bristling out of his body again. Mugman seemed taken aback by the sudden movement, arm still outstretched before withdrawing. Some of the little flowers had scattered out of fear at the movement.

“M-Mister Carnation! I-I’m sorry!” Mugman seemed just as shocked as he was, fumbling a little bit. “I didn't mean to scare ya at all, I'm sorry!”

“Mugman! I-” Oh, now what was he going to say?! He sighed shortly, obviously very flustered. “I…whatever, er, it's alright. I- I didn't think you'd show…I don’t get visitors often.”

This was already embarrassing. He could practically feel his ego get stabbed as he quickly tried to adjust himself, his face all heated up now. Too late to ham up the innocent act, as well.

Mugman smiled up at him, letting out a little chuckle at the display, then folded his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels. Though he was a little older now, he still looked so sweet… Sweet enough to make honey look bitter.

“Well, actually, Rumor told me to come down,” he began, pausing briefly to look around momentarily, “she said you didn't have anyone to go with to the Inkwell Festival. She said you wanted me to go with ya? Well, either way, I jus’ wanted to come down after running some errands for pops- it's been a while, hasn't it?”

“Erm… yeah, heh.” Cagney managed. It had been so long that Mugman looked… Visibly older. He still looked youthful in the face, the tinge of baby face would stick around for a while longer, but some of his features were broader. And he was definitely taller, as Cagney recalled him being quite stumpy, but now he was starting to fill out into a young man. Not to mention, that voice. He still had the same strong accent most residents this side of the island had, but his voice wasn't so squeaky anymore.

...Had it… really been that long?

Mugman tugged on his scarf that was tucked up between his face and royal blue coat, jeans tucked into his boots which had the tiniest of heels. Cagney secretly admired his fashion sense- he could probably pull off just about any outfit and look great.

“Yeah, last time I saw you was Christmas a few years back, don’cha remember? I gave you that big knitted sweater,” Mugman chimed, followed by a little giggle, “and it was way too big for ya! It was like, like a dress, or something. D’ ya still have it?”

Cagney shook his head. “It got caught on one of my thorns and tore. I tried fixing it, but…” he shrugged, “I couldn't save it. It just got worse everytime I fiddled with it.”

“Aw, shucks… that's such a shame,” Mugman looked disappointed, a hand reaching up to scratch the side of his porcelain head, “well, there's always this year! It's Christmas real soon, I can just make another one. It's no biggie. I'm better at knitting now, too, so it'll be even better than the last one!”

“You don't have to.” He replied, smoothing down his petals. He remembered the day when Mugman came down on Christmas day. It was probably the most bitter cold winter Inkwell had ever had, and every morning Cagney woke up with frost all over his petals and stem, snow coming up to the chins of his flower family & friends. Mugman came running into the clearing holding his sweater for him… It was such a kind thought, even though Cagney had accidentally torn it not long after.

“Ah, but I want to. That's the thing!” Mugman grinned back, expression practically beaming. “And, y'know, you don't have to feel bad or nothin’, it’ll be Christmas after all!”

“Mm. I suppose.” Cagney really did feel like the Grinch compared to Mugman. Eager to change the subject, he asked; “so what have you been up to recently?”

“Oh, I've mainly been helping out with my pops! Y'know, he's getting kinda old now so he can't do as much as he used to,” Mugman answered, “so I just run loads of errands for him everyday. Cuphead is out a lot more now so I usually have to do everything- but that's alright! Cos’ I don't mind.”

“Cuphead? What's up with him?” Cagney pulled a bit of a face, nose scrunching up slightly. He was still a little sour about Cuphead… his smug attitude didn't settle with him well. Thankfully, Mugman didn't pick up on his distaste for his older brother, and continued.

“He's working with mister Porkrind now,” Mugman replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “he started helping out with his shop a few months ago. He says it's just so he can get outta the house but I think is cos’ he wants to go gambling with Ribby an’ Croaks… Don't tell anyone I said that though!” He winked cheekily, and a smile twitched at Cagney’s lips.

“Clearly he didn't learn his lesson from last time,” Cagney remarked with a sneer, “let's hope he doesn't fall into the Devil's trap again, eh?”

Mugman pulled an expression of worry at Cagney’s comment, and he felt a pang of guilt. That probably pulled up some bad memories. “...I think those frog brothers will keep him outta trouble, though. Just make sure he doesn’t blow his money in the wrong casino, and no betting souls.”

As if Cagney was one to talk about betting souls.

“Y-Yeah! Of course!” Mugman was clearly concerned for his brother, though he tried to hide it behind that signature smile. Momentarily he put his feelings aside for the red-clad cup- if Cuphead made the same mistake as last time, Mugman would obviously be devastated. Maybe next time the Devil wouldn't treat him with the same mercy, either…

There was a short silence before Cagney extended a hand to pat his shoulder, attempting to offer some comfort.

“Cuphead will be okay,” Cagney spoke softly to break the silence, his large hand running up and down Mugman’s arm. His eyes might have been betraying him, but he could've sworn he saw a faint blush on his cheeks at the gesture. He wasn't all too sure what to follow up with, so there was a small pause before he added; “He looks up to you, Mugman. Anyone can see that.”

Mugman reached to clasp his hands around Cagney’s, gently nuzzling his face into his palm. Cagney didn't expect it, but he allowed it to happen. “I… I know if anything happened to my family, I'd be worried sick.” He added, and Mugman looked up.

“Family?” He let go of his hand, and Cagney withdrew. “You have a family?”

Cagney nodded in response. A lot of the flowers that had taken a nap with him had already scurried off earlier. However, a couple of his own brood had remained. He plucked one pink carnation off of the ground where they had once nestled up to his roots, lifting them into the palm of his hands. He petted its head before holding out his palm to Mugman.

The pink carnations black eyes looked up curiously at Mugman. “Aww…” Mugman smiled, before reaching out and petting its head as gently as possible. Cagney allowed the little flower to hop into Mugman’s hands. “Such a cutie…!”

“There's a lot more where that came from,” Cagney said, tilting his head a little as the tiny flower curiously looked around, “the rest of them have already scarpered, though.”

“I had no idea you were a dad, mister Carnation,” Mugman said, his tone was teasing and he gave another one of those cheeky winks, “didn't realise someone like you was so good with the ladies…”

“That's- that's not--!”

“I’m kidding, I'm kidding!” Mugman giggled as Cagney became flustered again, using one finger to pet the pink flower in his hands. “I don't doubt you'd get a lot of nooky though.”

Cagney grit his teeth at the teasing, reaching up to pull on one petal out of embarrassment with a loud huff and roll of his eyes. His face was just as pink as the flower child Mugman held in his palms. The little one looked a bit confused at the display, it seemed a bit worried. They had never seen their father so worked up, looking up at Mugman as if to ask 'what’s wrong?’.

“I'll tell you when you're older,” He whispered sneakily, followed by another giggle. The pink carnation seemed to get a bit excited at this, and Cagney promptly lifted them out of his hands.

“That's quite enough of that.” He grumbled, lips curled down as he put the child back onto the grass.

Mugman’s laughter faded with a sigh, looking across to see the sun had almost set, the last of its light ambiently illuminating the sea and the surrounding area. “Oh, golly! I'd better get going! Pops will have a heart attack if I don't get back soon,” Mugman exclaimed, “I'll have to get going- but I can come back tomorrow if you'd like?”

“T-Tomorrow?” He spoke as if he had any plans, a pause for thought, before giving a quick nod. “Of course, if you want to…”

“Okay, great!” Mugman beamed, carefully stepping over some of the flowers between them, giving Cagney a hug, not seeking too worried as Cagney hurriedly retracted his thorns. “I'll bring a picnic or something, maybe, I dunno.” He thought outloud, nuzzling against his stem.

Cagney was taken aback by the gesture, before carefully returning it. His arms and hands were really too big to hug Mugman, even if he were taller now. “...That sounds good.” He mumbled, frowning at the affection. He was far from used to this kind of attention.

“And we're definitely going to the festival together, right?”

Mugman was looking up at him expectantly, eyes wide. “Of course.” Cagney replied, meekly smiling back at Mugman's grin.

“Good!” Mugman finally pulled away, carefully stepping over the flowers on the ground again. A lot of Cagney’s family had returned now, for it was late. Mugman couldn't help but smile down at the little flowers. “I'll see you tomorrow then, mister Carnation-”

“Please, just Cagney will be alright.”

“Ah, okay. Goodnight, Cagney!” As he turned, he waved at Cagney and his carnations, dashing into the forest for home.

Cagney let out a sigh. He pet back his petals, finding himself actually looking forward to tomorrow. Mugman meant well, after all… he was a good soul.

Maybe having some company wasn't so bad after all...

#Cuphead #Cuphead (Game)#Mugman #Cagney Carnation #Rumor Honeybottoms #Mugman x Cagney Carnation #Mugney #Flower Tea #Flower Tea (Ship)#Fanfiction #Cuphead Fanfiction #Magic Writes

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