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kamaluhkhan · 15 days ago

Text

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 14.6k summary: you and vi are both tired of complicated relationships so try the whole friends-with-benefits thing....and maybe forget the whole point of your arrangement in the first place. warning: lesbian situationships (there is so much angst and yearning), brief mention of (internalized) homophobia and struggles with addiction....but mostly cheesy domestic fluff and smut [oral (vi receiving), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, slight bondage play, switch!vi has my heart] (18+) ! a/n: merry (belated oops) xmas girls and gays <33 i've probably spent way too much time on this but it's my BABY....kinda based on leighton and alicia's plotline in s1 of sex lives of college girls and ofc casual by chappell roan (there are many other chappell references throughout too hehe). also yes i made a mini playlist that consists of the songs that i think reflect this fic's sun, moon, and rising signs....pls enjoy and happy holidays !!!

♪: "angel baby" by troye sivan (sun); "pretty girl" by hayley kiyoko (moon); "casual" by chappell roan (rising)

“not even one week into the new academic year, violet rose atlas, captain of the varsity soccer team, has been suspended from gameplay due to recent unsportsman-like behavior, sentenced to 100 hours of community service, and banned from the local lesbian bar.”

mel removes her eyes from the screen to raise an eyebrow at you. you just shrug and take a sip of your coffee. you glance over at the clock on the wall.

11:09am.

“to top it all off, she’s late,” you declare, trying your best to hide the anticipation simmering in your stomach.

“what’s your deal, anyways? you totally flirt with her whenever she’s at the bar. not even we get that good of service,” gert points out. they’re searching through a stack of cd’s and cassette tapes for something to play.

“that was before.”

you walk over to sit next to gert, taking it upon yourself to choose the music. you settle on jagged little pill; alanis morrissette’s lush voice is a welcomed addition to your conversation.

“our funding is at risk,” you explain. “it’s like the dean assigned her to us because she knew it would end terribly and the board would have an excuse to finally cut us loose.”

“if they need an excuse, they’ll find one,” gert grumbles.

you shrug. “i just think violet is bad news, which is something i’d prefer we avoid..”

“the article does say that she punched maddie nolan in the face during an exhibition game against the piltover knights.”

“see? bad news. literally.”

“well, i think we lucked out,” sky gushes, though her focus remains on finishing her current project. she’s crocheting so fast that you only catch glimpses of her sparkly pink fingernails. you’re sure she’ll be done with this blanket before violet shows up. if she even bothers to show up. “the yellowjackets might’ve lost their captain, but we get to spend quality time with the hottest butch on campus.”

“whatever,” you sigh, though you don’t disagree with that description. you check the clock again — 11:11am — and settle against the worn couch. “since we have the time — mel, why don’t you read our horoscopes? i’m itching to see what the universe has in store for us today.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi spent the better part of last night crying and getting wasted in her bathtub with cheap dye burning into her scalp.

she just couldn’t stand the memory of caitlyn kiramman’s perfectly manicured nails running through her formerly pink locks as they kissed, tugging on vi’s hair to bring her closer —

enough. fucking pull yourself together.

cait’s moved on, that much is clear, with someone more like her. someone whose last name is on buildings all around the university of piltover’s campus.

so far, no amount of bar fights or red cards or late nights in some random girl’s bed seem to mend the heart that caitlyn shattered to pieces, but vi doesn’t give up easy.

soon enough, she’ll be back on the field, leading the yellowjackets to victory at nationals; she’ll finish all her classes, graduate with honors and have a great plan for an even greater future; all while having amazing, mind-blowing sex that won’t lead to serious heartbreak.

relationships are overrated, anyways.

the first step in this plan: spending 100 hours with a bunch of angry, bra-burning lesbians.

maybe vi will fit right in.

so, vi walks into her community service assignment with a wicked migraine and hands that look like lady macbeth plotted to murder an oil spill, but with her usual confident swagger nonetheless, as conversation echoes down the hallway.

“according to your rising, there will be a much needed spark in your romantic life. my guess is a fire sign is gonna sweep you off your feet.”

another voice chimes in, a gentle rumble. “could that be your sweet jules?”

“i’ve never asked about her chart,” an achingly familiar voice replies. it brings back memories of dizzying lights and strong whiskey coursing through her blood, but something else, too. a sky full of stars and too-sweet alcohol on her tongue. “paula was a fire sign, though, and that blew up in my face.”

“paula was a walking red flag.”

“yeah, well, apparently red’s my favorite color.”

“maybe that was just the heartbreak you needed to bring passion back into your life. do you feel that with jules?”

“i don’t know — maybe? we haven’t had sex yet.”

“passion isn’t just about sex, you know —”

“gert, i love you, but i cannot handle a sex therapy session right now.”

someone else giggles, bright and bubbly. “hm, i wonder what sign our pink-haired hottie is.”

vi clears her throat to announce her arrival, leaning against the doorway.

everyone turns to look at her then, with varying degrees of shock, and vi feels like she’s just walked into an after midnight roommate vent session.

she isn’t sure what she expected the space to look like, but zaun university’s women’s centre is well-lived in, defined by a sort of organized chaos. each wall is covered in posters and collages, multicolored flags and fairy lights; there’s a shelf in the corner with assorted trinkets and books piled high, a table next to it with baskets of condoms, pads, and tampons and informational pamphlets, and a door in the opposite corner, slightly ajar. a vintage boombox placed on the coffee table plays 90s alt rock, circled by mismatched seating with patterned blankets and brightly colored pillows strewn about.

someone with dark lipstick and an eyebrow piercing is drawing on their converse; a dark brunette wearing glasses is draping a blanket over the arm of a couch; another person is scrolling on their laptop, a gold necklace glittering on their collarbones.

vi’s attention is stuck on you, though, the origin of the aforementioned familiar voice: the very hot bartender from sappho’s, where vi happened to be kicked out of not even 72 hours prior.

you’re wearing a vintage wonder woman t-shirt tucked into faded blue jeans with a carabiner clipped to a belt loop. the sleeves of your shirt are rolled up, displaying your array of tattoos — vi’s already decided that her favorites are joan of arc holding her sword, a pomegranate that’s been cracked open, and lyrics from bikini kill’s ‘rebel girl’ (which admittedly, vi had to look up when she first saw). it’s everything vi’s booze-soaked brain had apparently memorized after many nights of staring at you across the bar counter, licking up whatever honeyed flirtations you’d spill from your lips. vi always noticed your hands, too: the many rings you’ve stacked on your fingers, the lavender sprig sprouting from your middle finger and venus symbol etched onto your wrist, the nails that are always clipped short and painted black.

one of those nails is tapping anxiously on your coffee mug, which has a picture of hayley kiyoko as lesbian jesus.

“pink-haired hottie, reporting for duty. though, i might need a new nickname.” vi grins; you roll your eyes. “i’m an aries, by the way.”

“good to know.” the brunette winks not-so-subtly in your direction before walking towards vi and extending a hand, gold bangles clinking together at the motion. “i’m sky, she/her. we had electromagnetic theory together last spring. it’s lovely to officially meet you.”

vi makes a big show of leaning down and kissing sky’s hand.

“nice to meet you, too, sweetheart.”

“such a gentleman,” sky giggles and leads vi to the patchwork couch. she curls up like a cat, and vi follows suit — the couch is cloud soft, and vi tries not to sink into the cushions. “i’m our supplies and communications coordinator.” she turns away from vi to look around the room. “okay, that’s my intro. who’s next?”

the person with an eyebrow piercing nods at vi, a sort of effortless greeting. “gert, they/them.” they snap the sharpie shut after writing ‘the future is intersectional’ on the tip of their toe. “i curate and design our newsletter, the black rose. i’m also in a band —”

“the sirens of zaun. yeah, i recognize you. you’ve played a few gigs at sappho’s.”

vi looks at you pointedly, and you take this as your cue to disappear behind the door, which appears to lead into some sort of office.

gert seems pleased, though. “then you might also recognize our lead singer….”

the person with the gold necklace, who vi does, in fact, vaguely recognize but can’t quite name, closes their laptop and waves at vi. “i’m mel. pronouns: she/her. i mostly deal with the finances around here. and, from what i understand, you’re already well acquainted with our fearless leader —”

mel is cut off by the sound of her phone alarm.

“shit — it’s already 11:30. our set at campus radio starts soon.” mel gestures at gert. gert picks up the bright red guitar case behind them and secures it around their shoulder as mel packs up her leather satchel.

“damn, i gotta get to class, too. the space-time continuum waits for no one.” sky gets up and gathers her things, too, stuffing yarn into a fruit-printed tote bag. “it was nice meeting you though.” she pats vi’s head affectionately before throwing out a loud: “see ya later, boss!”

mel and gert offer similar farewells, and you shout goodbye from the other room before the three of them are out the door. vi expects you to reappear a few moments later; when you don’t, she ventures into the office.

it’s smaller, but just as decorated as the lounge space. there’s a desk that seems to be more storage than actual use, littered with piles of books and old copies of the black rose. you’re sitting on a fluffy rainbow carpet that looks like every member of sesame street stitched together, writing something in a sticker-covered notebook.

“so, violet —”

“vi’s fine,” she tells you. she decides to sit on the floor next to you rather than the zebra striped chaise lounge.

you nod, rip a page out of your notebook, and hand it to vi. there’s something a bit too intimate about knowing what your handwriting looks like before even knowing your name.

“this is a run down of everything you’ll need to know, but real quick: we do feminist film fridays and trivia tuesdays on alternating weeks; our radical reads book club meets once a month, along with our slam poetry group, and we have a bunch of other events in between — workshops, art builds, discussion groups, and so on. sky keeps everything in the centre stocked, and occasionally the rest of us will pitch in when organizing a charity drive. our newsletter publishes the third wednesday of every month — gert puts it together, but we print in pairs since it could be a lot of work for one person. we have team meetings once a week to share updates, make sure we’re all on the same page, stuff like that. any questions?”

“wow, okay. that’s a lot.”

you smile. “i’m sure you’ll be able to keep up, varsity.”

“so….where do i fit in?”

“that depends on you, really,” you tap your glitter gel pen on your notebook, thinking. “like, i’m assuming you’re not well versed in feminist literature.”

vi puffs out her chest. “based on what assumptions? i’m not a dumb jock.”

“yeah, i know you’ve made the dean list ever since your freshman year.”

vi raises an eyebrow. “keeping tabs on me, wonder woman?” she teases.

you laugh. “don’t flatter yourself. sky’s the one who mentioned it to me. so, unless you mean your very large, unpaid tab at sappho’s...”

“the bar i was kicked out of, you mean.”

“well, yeah, because you —” you take a deep breath. “not the point. anyways, we don’t have a complete schedule for book club, so you can maybe take the lead on one of our meetings. do you have a favorite author?”

vi smiles at you sheepishly. “ah…..you got me there.”

“thought so,” you smirk and vi covers her blush. “if you’re curious, this bridge called my back is a good place to start. oh, and audre lorde is a classic and a personal favorite…..” you pause when you catch vi staring at you. she wants you to keep talking, to appreciate the way your eyes light up so enthusiastically, but you blink away, and a veil of professionalism falls back onto you. “sorry. anyways, we’re having trivia tomorrow — would you be able to help us out with that?

vi nods. “sure.”

“sweet.” you check your phone. “i’ve got a coffee date, so i should get going.”

“wait — you never told me your name, wonder woman.”

“well, it’s not diana prince,” you quip before finally introducing yourself.

“nice to finally put a name to the face.” vi winks at you, standing up. she extends a hand to guide you up. your hand is cold against her skin, your metal rings even colder.

“i’ll see you around, varsity.” before you’re out the door, you turn back around. “oh, and vi?”

“yeah?”

“don’t be late.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you had stepped away for a quick smoke break — a habit you knew you had to kick — but you’re so fucking drained and it’s only wednesday.

you were up all night bickering with your girlfriend. it started with her admitting that she really doesn’t want to meet your friends, which transitioned into her asking you to not talk to anyone about her or your relationship, which prompted you to make a (maybe slightly insensitive) comment about how she’s welcome to stay in the closet but has no right to push you back in.

needless to say, you did not get any sleep.

you’re about to walk outside, and finally get a moment of peace, when your phone rings. it’s your sibling, and the fact that they’re calling instead of texting tells you that this conversation is about to be (A) exhausting, (B) infuriating, or (C) both.

the correct answer is C.

it’s the same story over and over again: your dad drinks too much, your mom is absent. it hadn’t been this bad when you were growing up, but you suppose you’d been around to ease the damage, or at least step in and take care of your sibling as needed.

“just — take a deep breath. you can come stay with me for the weekend, okay? it’ll be good for you to get away from the chaos for a bit….we’ll go apple picking if the weather’s nice, maybe start working on your halloween costume — whatever you wanna do.”

“you know, i’m not five anymore,” they mumble, stifling a small laugh along with some tears. “but…okay. that sounds nice.”

you smile to yourself, shoulder pressing against the door. “it’s a plan then. we’ll sort out the details later. and, don’t worry about mom and dad — i’ll take care of it. love you.”

you hang up and exhale as you finally push the door open, happy to finally get one moment to breathe.

except, just as you’re greeted by a crisp breeze on this beautiful late september evening, you’re also greeted by the sight of vi pressing someone against the brick wall, their legs wrapped around her waist as she kisses their neck.

something ignites in your abdomen, familiar after many nights of seeing vi at the bar, charming her way into another woman’s bed. except, it’s definitely not jealousy, this time.

(okay, maybe it is; but only a bit.)

they spring apart upon hearing the door slam closed. you recognize who vi’s with — maya, a sophomore who’s frequently attended women’s centre events since last year. she’s always been friendly with the team, but never this friendly.

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry!”

“you don’t have to apologize,” you tell her sincerely. her cheeks are flushed, and she’s busy smoothing down her skirt, clearly trying to distance herself from vi, who’s leaning against the wall nonchalantly. “i just need to talk to violet, so do you mind giving us a sec?”

you wait until maya disappears inside to cross your arms and glare at vi.

“so, it’s violet now, huh?” she teases, wiping red lipstick off her smirk.

“you were supposed to be helping facilitate this workshop,” you note.

“well, it is a queer sex ed workshop.” vi rolls her eyes. “i was giving maya a hands-on experience.”

you grit your teeth together. “and you just had to do that now? like you just had to go down on that third year during trivia last week?”

“well, see, i don’t have a ton of free time, and since i’m not allowed at the local lesbian bar….” she trails off, looking at you pointedly. “i’ve had to resort to multi-tasking.”

“multi-tasking.” you let an exhausted, bitter laugh slip from your lips. “you’ve showed up late to every single event in the past few weeks, and once you’re there, you’re either on your laptop, getting drunk, or hooking up with someone. tell me, violet, as captain of the yellowjackets — if someone on your team was acting like this, what would you do?”

vi narrows her eyes at you, like she can’t believe what you’re asking, and admits, “i’d call them out, tell them to do better.”

“right. and if they kept giving you empty promise after empty promise? you’d have to do something more drastic, even if you didn’t want to, yeah?”

no response.

shaking your head, you take out a cigarette. there’s only silence when you flick the lighter open and light it between your lips. you inhale deeply, letting the smoke enter your lungs, exhale slowly, and decide: “i’m gonna ask the dean to reassign you.”

“fine by me,” vi scoffs, but you swear that something close to disappointment flashes across her face. “clearly, this isn’t working out.”

“clearly.” you take another drag of your cigarette, and as vi walks back inside, you can’t help but try to get under her skin. you’ve had a bad week, between family drama and turbulence in your relationship with jules, and you’re just sick of people not giving a shit. “the year’s already started, so i doubt there’s something available. which means you’ll remain on academic probation until spring.”

and, okay — you do get some twisted satisfaction in how that makes vi stop in her tracks. you’re leaning against the wall, and she strides over to stand in front of you, her jaw and fists clenched.

“i’ll miss the whole tournament.”

you shrug, and blow smoke in her face. “i’ve given you plenty of chances.”

“but the team needs me —”

“you should have thought of that before you fucked up, varsity,” you snap. vi’s eyes widen; you’re usually more level-headed. “you’re cocky, irresponsible — ”

“i lost my scholarship,” vi blurts out, prompting you to pause, the cigarette millimeters from your lips.

you blink at her, blood still roaring in your ears.

“i…don’t know why that’s relevant.”

vi just sighs, so deeply that you feel it in your bones. you haven’t seen this side of her before — no flirtatious smile, no overconfident posture. instead, she slips to the ground, knees pressed to her chest. feeling a bit guilty for pushing her buttons, you slide down next to her. you offer her the cigarette, but she shakes her head.

“i…i’m going through a shitty breakup. i’ve been lashing out, and i lost my scholarship. i haven’t asked my parents for money, because the last thing i want is for them to worry about me. so, i started picking up these odd jobs to make ends meet, and the hours are a bit crazy so between school and practice and — fuck, there’s also shit going on with my sister that i won’t even get into now, but it’s a lot — and i also need to do this because i let my team down and i need to be there for them, whatever it takes, and i’m just so fucking —”

“exhausted, yeah.”

you can see more clearly now — the slump in her shoulders, the shadows underneath her eyes; you see her more clearly. you realize that you might have more in common with violet rose atlas than you initially thought.

“so the laptop —”

“finishing assignments.”

“the drinking?”

vi juts her chin out at your smouldering cigarette. “we all have our vices.”

“and the sex?”

her lips curl into a sheepish grin, and she shrugs. “we all need to relieve stress.”

you clear your throat, blinking away from her gaze and trying to ignore how you can feel warmth radiating from her body, so close to yours. “right.”

vi runs her hand through her tar-black hair. that should have been your first hint — nothing says lesbian breakup more than terribly dyed hair and questionable decisions.

“look, i know i can’t do everything, but i have to, and i’m still trying to figure out how.”

“well….as far as excuses go, it’s not the worst,” you admit. “thanks for telling me. i know that couldn’t have been easy.” you take a deep breath and get to your feet. “i stand by what i said earlier, though — this isn’t working out. you just can’t tell us that you’ll be helpful and not follow through. it means a lot, to a lot of people, that there’s a space like this on campus. mel, gert, sky— they all work so hard to make that happen, and that’s something i need to protect. i’m sorry.”

“wait.” vi grabs your wrist before you can leave. “i’m sorry. really, i am. i promise to do better.”

“you’ve made that promise before,” you point out. “why should i believe this time will be different?”

“because…you’re right. i’ve been too caught up in myself, in what i need, in what my team needs. i can see that you really care about your team, though, and i should have respected that. they’re — you’re — amazing, everything that you do to make people feel safe and heard and loved. i’m sorry for taking that for granted.”

wow. okay.

you did not expect that. you’re hoping that vi can’t feel your pulse quicken at her words, but you’re glad that she’s holding on to you, keeping you steady.

“yeah, well…flattery’s not gonna get you far.” you clear your throat. “but, you’re obviously going through a lot right now, and it can drive you crazy, feeling like you’re the one who —”

“has to keep everything together,” vi finishes, sliding to the ground once more. you follow. “seems like i’m cracking under pressure, this time. fucking everything up.”

“you’ve got a reckless streak.”

“must be the aries in me,” she laughs, softly. “apparently it’s my Ieast attractive quality. along with my stubbornness and selfishness.”

“well, i don’t think that’s the whole picture,” you assure her. vi looks at you incredulously. “i won’t lie and say that your actions aren’t….thoughtless sometimes. you’re more self-centred than selfish—”

“hey!”

“but you obviously feel some sense of responsibility, for your team, your family, for what you think is right. hell — the reason my boss asked me to kick you out is because you started a bar fight with that frat boy who was insisting he had the right dick to set lesbians straight.”

vi scoffs. “asshole.”

“i was about to throw him out, but you beat me to the punch. literally.” you nudge your shoulder against vi’s, and she chuckles. “and, yeah, you’re stubborn, which can be annoying, but it also means that you’d never give up, that you’re willing to keep trying despite the odds, so….”

“so….?”

vi’s looking at you with the widest, softest eyes. fuck, you never expected her to be this gentle, so much so that it you want to melt to her every need.

“i’m hoping third time’s the charm, varsity.”

vi smiles, the most sincere one she’s probably ever given you, and the scar on her lip stretches; for all your talk about responsibility, there’s a part of you who’d risk pushing your already tenuous relationship with your girlfriend to its breaking point just so you could kiss vi, guilt-free, just once. maybe you have a bit of a reckless streak, too.

“thanks, wonder woman. you won’t regret it.”

yeah. you kind of already do.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi would never admit it, but one reason she fought to keep her community service assignment here is because she wanted to keep seeing you.

she likes getting under your skin, seeing those pretty eyes roll whenever she strides in late for a meeting, that kissable jaw clench any time you catch her tangled up with someone else.

it almost makes up for all those nights at sappho’s you’d spent flirting back and forth, some sort of unspoken agreement between you to never go further.

sometimes, it’s just nice to have a crush in your back pocket, to know that they’ll always be there to admire and admire you back while others come and go.

the more time you spend together, though, the more vi realizes that you’re not just a fictional character in her head, in a fantasy she pictures before bed — no, you’re tangible.

vi watches as you bring special tea for gert when their period cramps are particularly painful; she listens to you console mel after another fight with her mother and offer advice to sky when she was hoping to ask out her lab partner. vi notices how you prefer your coffee with a dash of cinnamon; and she learns that you had your first kiss with a girl in your freshman year journalism class, and that your first tattoo was done by the same person. a stick-and-poke star on your ankle.

she can hear your laugh, feel the cool metal of your rings brush against her skin accidentally when you’re squeezing past her in a crowded room, smell your perfume when you hug her goodbye. you have stories and quirks and expectations and opinions that vi subconsciously files away as she gets to know you better.

you’re not just a crush, anymore.

you’re a friend.

vi likes having you as a friend. really — she does!

you’re a friend who makes vi’s heart jump at the sight of your name on her phone. a friend who smirks when vi blushes after you tell her she has the prettiest cheekbones you’ve ever seen. a friend who mentions this vibrator that gave you one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had, so vi orders the same one and maybe still pictures you before bed, imagining that you’re using it at the same time. except someone else might be next to you.

yeah, vi’s pretty sure you’re dating someone, but that’s something she hasn’t gathered enough information on.

not that it matters. she wouldn’t be interested in anything serious, anyways, after the mindfuck that was her relationship with caitlyn, and the damage she’s still having to heal from.

though, if that hadn’t happened, vi would have never gotten into a fight with maddie nolan, the second striker for the piltover knights, who taunted her during an exhibition game about how caitlyn is so much happier now that she isn’t disgracing herself with a filthy zaunite. vi would have never been banned from the first half of the tournament and chewed out by coach sevika for fucking up the yellowjackets’ chance at nationals.

vi would have never been put on academic probation and assigned to 100 hours of community service, either.

she certainly wouldn’t have been here, now, in the women’s centre office close to midnight on a tuesday, folding the most recent issue of the black rose when you walk in.

“oh. hey, v.” you drop down on the zebra-striped couch, your tote bag falling to the ground. “i thought sky was gonna be here tonight.”

vi shakes her head, removing one earbud and letting it dangle from the cord. “she’s got this huge chem report due tomorrow, had to meet up with viktor to get it done.”

“right…” you sigh and lie back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. a few moments pass, and there’s only your steady breathing. “what are you listening to?”

your eyes are closed when vi settles in next to you. it’s a relatively tight fit, but it doesn’t seem like either of you particularly care. vi gently places an earbud in your ear.

you snort, opening your eyes. “you could have just said the cranberries.”

“i’m surprised you recognize them,” vi quips. “it’s not your usual angry girl music.”

“well, sometimes people surprise you. this is actually one of my favorite songs,” you explain. “it’s in one of my favorite movies, too.”

“you’ve got mail?”

you furrow your brows. “when harry met sally.”

vi shakes her head. “no, ‘dreams’ is definitely in you’ve got mail. but, i agree that when harry met sally is a better movie.”

“you’ve watched nora ephron movies and enjoyed them?”

“well, sometimes people surprise you,” vi teases. “i can appreciate a good love story as much as the next person.”

you let out a short, airy laugh. you tilt your head and you’re so close to vi that you’re practically exchanging the same breath. your eyes land on her lips for a millisecond, and vi starts to lean in before you sit up abruptly.

“i could use some alcohol.” you climb over vi and go to the desk, pull out a half empty bottle of fruit-flavored soju from a drawer. you grab two mugs — the hayley kiyoko one, and another with frida kahlo. you stop short of pouring, looking to vi. she nods.

soon enough, you’ve got your legs strewn along vi’s lap, sipping lychee infused alcohol.

“can i ask you something?”

“anything,” vi answers, squeezing your calf.

“why’d you and caitlyn break up?” the question hangs in the air for a second before you add: “if you don’t wanna talk about it though, i understand.”

shit. it’s definitely not vi’s favorite topic of conversation, but….

“i think she thought that i was one of the good ones, that regardless of the way i grew up or the blood that coursed through my veins, i would be her perfect little charity case. people would be like: future president kiramman definitely cares about the poor — just look at the broke angry lesbian she’s turned into her docile wife!”

you suck in a sharp breath. “fuck that.”

“yeah,” vi laughs sadly. “the worst part is that she wanted me to be vulnerable with her, so i was, because i thought the more i opened up, the more she’d love me, but, in the end….i was too messy. i was too much.”

vi hates the lump that starts to build in her throat, the tears that threaten to spill. she cannot cry in front of you —

you grab her hand. your skin is cool against hers, and it eases her quickening heartbeat.

“you’re not too much, v.” your voice soothes her like honey, trickling down her throat. “it sucks, though, when they ask you to rip your heart out of your chest and get mad at you for bleeding out in front of them.”

“shit, i never thought of it so…viscerally, but that’s exactly what it feels like.”

“well you’re not a creative writing major,” you quip. “i know it still hurts — trust me, i know — but your heart was never hers if she treated you that badly. you deserve more.”

is it the alcohol messing with her brain, or does it look like you want to kiss her?

fuck.

vi clears her throat. “why’re you asking?”

you pull your hand away, take a sip of your drink. “jules broke up with me a few days ago.”

you’re single now. good to know.

“what happened?”

“i caught her kissing someone at a bar. a boy.” you roll your eyes. “maybe she just wasn’t ready, which is fine, but when we had it out, she told me that what we had isn’t what romance is supposed to feel or look like, which sucked. especially after being so….vulnerable with her.”

“you offered her that bleeding heart of yours, didn’t you?”

you click your tongue, pouring some more soju into each mug. “course i did, v. and it didn’t mean anything in the end. because relationships suck.”

“i’ll drink to that.”

you cheers, keeping eye contact.

“and you know what?” you take a big, long gulp. “i know that relationships aren’t just about sex, but i’ve been having to get myself off for months now and sometimes, i just want someone else to —”

“take care of you?”

vi sips her drink, watching you mull over her words.

“not sure if i’d put it like that,” you decide. “i just miss that excitement. when another person wants to discover what makes you feel good, and wanting to learn how to make them feel good, too. i miss having that connection with someone.”

“i’m guessing you didn’t have that with jules, then.”

“ha! no. and paula…the girl i dated before….let’s just say, she didn’t give a shit whether i felt good, in any sense.” you shift in your seat; vi senses there’s a story there, but she doesn’t push. “how about future president kiramman — she take care of you?”

vi can’t help but laugh. “nah. i mostly took care of her. she sure liked it when i got down on my knees for her.”

you hum.

“lucky her.”

you wink at vi, and she chokes on her drink.

i would gladly do it for you, if that’s something you want.

“is that a genuine offer? because, if you’re joking —”

shit. did vi say that out loud?

vi’s heart is beating out of her chest, but she sits up straighter to regain some level of composure. she nods.

no use in turning back now.

“i’m serious, wonder woman.”

you stare at her. “i really can’t have another relationship that’s just gonna crash and burn.”

“that’s not what i’m offering. i care about our - our friendship. i care about you.”

you swallow. “i care about you, too.”

“right, and when our friends need help with something….”

“we help them,” you finish. “so, you’re really just talking about casual sex. right now, on this couch?”

“yes,” vi answers. maybe a bit too quickly. “if that’s what you want, too.”

“that’s what i want,” you reply. maybe a bit too quickly, too. “but none of this one sided bullshit: you do me, i do you.”

vi takes your mug, puts it next to hers on the floor, and repositions your bodies so that she’s hovering above you, hips set between yours.

“sounds perfect to me.”

you finally, finally kiss and it feels oddly…familiar. you taste like lychees and nicotine and cherries, burnt sweetness, and your skin is so fucking soft.

“wait.” you tug on vi’s hair and she has to bite back a moan at how fucked out you already look underneath her, all wide-eyed and desperate. “just so we’re 100% clear: just sex.”

vi nods once. “no strings attached.”

“it’ll be casual.”

“we’re not doing the whole relationship thing.”

“promise?”

vi sticks out her pinky, grinning at you sheepishly. you roll your eyes ever so slightly, but still wrap your pinky around hers.

“promise.”

so, you take care of each other. no strings attached.

because that’s what friends are for, right?

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽

are u busy rn? got out of my lab early and im bored

wndr wmn ☆

yeah, im at work

v ⚽️

leave early. im BORED and HORNY

wndr wmn ☆

ofc you are

v ⚽️

pls u love it

u know #6 isn’t just my jersey number ;))

i’m implying that i will give u 6 consecutive orgasms

wndr wmn ☆

yeah i got that

v ⚽️

so….

wndr wmn ☆

….

leaving now

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“you sure about this, v?”

vi hums, looking up at you through hooded eyes. “isn’t it every girl’s dream to get tied up by the lasso of truth, wonder woman?”

you’re straddling her, still wearing your red and gold bodysuit underneath blue shorts that you’ve decorated with silver stars. your makeshift lasso of truth — really, just some gold rope — sparkles, tying vi’s wrists together to the headboard.

the theme of the women’s centre halloween celebration is always the same — dress up at your favorite female icon — but you’d never seen someone look as good as vi does. she dressed as trinity from the matrix, all tight, black leather and vinyl, showcasing her defined muscles as the gods intended.

now, she’s left in a sleeveless cropped top and black boyshorts, with her pants and jacket thrown somewhere on your apartment floor.

you have a feeling she really liked your costume, too, because she practically begged you to take control tonight.

“if it gets too much, our safeword will be —”

“sappho.” the slight whine of impatience in her voice sends a jolt right to your core.

“perfect.”

you kiss her lips, her jaw, her neck, your lipstick leaving angry red marks. you lodge your bare thigh in between vi’s legs, biting your bottom lip when you feel her already warm and wet, when you hear her whimper as you apply more pressure to where she needs you most. you reach into your nightstand for your vibrator and switch it on, teasing vi’s nipples through her shirt.

vi moans, deep and loud. not even thirty seconds, and she’s already pulling at the restraints, the headboard creaking.

“are you gonna be a good girl for me, violet?” you coo, inching the vibrator lower and lower, feeling her shake underneath you. “because we’ve got all night, and you better not break my bed.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“hey, so — i found these in between one of the couch cushions, thought maybe they might be yours.”

you can only spare a glance at the item mel is holding up — you’re grading freshman papers, focused on this one student’s thesis about gender fluidity in shakespeare’s twelfth night.

“oh, those are vi’s.”

“hm. and just how is it that you know what her underwear looks like?”

you stop writing mid-sentence and look up at mel who’s giving you a pointed look.

you and vi had been the ones to clean up after feminist film friday last week, and one thing led to another….

in your defense: vi had been wearing these low cut jeans that showed off her v-line, and you could tell she didn’t have her usual sports bra on because you could see the outlines of her nipple rings through her tight, white tank top. it took everything in you to wait until people cleared out during the credits of the watermelon woman to pin her down and have her whimpering for you.

“i just…guessed.”

“right.” mel rolls her eyes. “so, you and violet are….what? fucking? dating?”

you clear your throat and take a sip of lukewarm coffee.

“we’re keeping it casual,” is all you say.

“are you sure that’s a good idea?”

you just shrug.

“just — be careful,” mel, always the diplomatic one, eases. she walks towards you, sits on the edge of the desk, and hands you the pair of black briefs. “i know we all teased you about it before, but i don’t want to see you get hurt. i’ve seen you get your heart broken one too many times.”

“it’s fine, mel,” you assure her, grabbing the piece of fabric and shoving it at the bottom of your bag. you’re visiting their owner after this, anyways. “vi and i are just friends helping each other out.”

mel raises an eyebrow. “well, you and i have been friends for years and we’ve never gotten that close.”

“that’s different.”

“how so?”

“i appreciate your concern,” you say, avoiding the question. “but it’s fine. nice, actually.”

“it’s your life,” mel sighs. “maybe don’t fuck on our couches anymore, though.”

your cheeks heat up. you turn your attention back to the essay in front of you.

“noted.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi starts showing up at your place after soccer.

she’s allowed back on the field during games now, so she appears with a winning grin, a grass-stained uniform and fresh bruises on her knees. one time, she had the remnants of a bloody nose after a header gone wrong, and you could taste copper when she pressed her lips against yours before she hopped in the shower.

you keep her go-to body wash stocked — bergamot and cedarwood scented old spice — but she always walks out of the bathroom smelling like your mango-vanilla shower gel. sometimes even your coconut shampoo. she slips on one of your oversized graphic tees, drapes a light purple towel around her shoulders to avoid staining your shirt with her cheaply dyed black hair, fading back to pink with each wash. she walks over to the fridge in her soft gray sweatpants rolled at the ankles and cracks open one of the spiced-pear red bulls as you pull ingredients out for dinner. usually something quick and simple, since it’s always a long week and neither of you have capacity for anything more.

vi chops garlic and tells you about her game; you boil water for pasta and tell her about the latest drama between students in your literature class.

you pretend you have all the time in the world.

because you both know that vi’s got the strap packed in her gym bag, that soon one thing will lead to another and she’ll be fucking you with it until you’re both sweaty and spent and exhausted in the best way possible.

you’ve established this routine together, agreed upon several unspoken rules: no pillow talk once it’s over; no actually falling asleep in the other’s bed; no crossing that thin sapphic line between friendship and romance.

no breaking that promise.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

wanna come over? i’m watching bend it like beckham

v ⚽️

MY FAVORITE!!

i would love 2

but lucky fell asleep on me

we just finished devouring an xl pepperoni pizza

wndr wmn

remind me again why your one-eyed golden retriever likes pizza so much?

v ⚽️

come on it’s cute

[v ⚽️ sent an attachment]

wndr wmn

yeah, you’re cute

v ⚽️

come over here instead?

wndr wmn

omw

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi whines, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“come on — hurry up.”

“you practically begged for this, v,” you chide.

“yeah, but you’re taking too long and your hands are fucking freezing.”

“it’s the irony deficiency, babe,” you quip. “now, are you gonna be a good girl and let me finish?”

“fine,” vi grumbles. she does stop squirming, though. you hum, pleased.

you certainly didn’t miss the way her breath hitches at the nickname. vi’s right hand, freshly polished, tightens on your thigh.

you’re not sure why she called you at 1:27am for your help with this, or why she couldn’t just do it herself, but you’re sitting on her lap, painting her nails the color of pomegranate juice, a color she had chosen from the options you brought.

sure, you were about to turn in for an early night, but the moment you heard her voice through the phone, you rushed over to her place wearing nothing but your pajamas — plaid boxer shorts and a spiderman shirt that vi wore last time she was at yours, and you haven’t washed since.

you stretch time out as much as you can, meticulous in every stroke, but painting her nails doesn’t take much longer. you start to move off her lap — it’s probably time for you to leave — but vi grabs your hips, a playful smirk on her lips.

oh, right. that’s the type of relationship — friendship — you and vi agreed upon.

shit. you’re pretty sure that you’re wearing your days of the week underwear. is it a turn-off that you’ve got on a saturday pair on a thursday?

it doesn’t really matter, anyways.

instead of initiating a kiss, vi takes the bottle of polish from you, swaps it for black, and gestures for your hand. you blink at her, until you realize what she’s asking.

“oh! you don’t have to —”

“you do me, i do you.” vi grins at you. “i thought that was our arrangement.”

you laugh, feeling warmth radiate from your chest.

it’s kind of….adorable, the furrow of her brow, the way she curses under her breath when a drop of nail polish falls onto your skin. she’s surprisingly gentle, too, one of her hands holding yours for support while the other paints.

while she focuses on getting the polish onto your nails in even layers, you busy yourself by counting vi’s freckles.

violet rose atlas has a constellation of freckles sparkling across her cheeks. you hope there’s enough time in the world for you to memorize every single one.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽️

do u need more nicotine gum?

im at cvs rn

wndr wmn

yeah that’d be great!!

v ⚽️

i’ll get u the cinnamon one

that’s the one u like right?

wndr wmn

yep!!!

v ⚽️

okay cool

im also gonna get u some of those iron supplements

wndr wmn

my hero 🙏🏽

thank you sm

v ⚽️

ofc

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“that red head was trying to get your number.”

“are you jealous, v?”

vi scoffs, sipping her cherry coke. “of course not. i’m just observant.”

you’d convinced your manager to let vi back into sappho’s. it’s nice, really, to see her back here again.

nice, but different.

gone are the days of staring at her from across the room, where she would be charming someone else, and only flirting with you when she came over to get another whiskey for herself and vodka something for her date. instead, she jokes around with mel, sky, and gert if they’re around, and sometimes brings her teammates in as well to play a game of pool. she usually has one drink, and then switches to something non-alcoholic. sometimes, vi doesn’t even come in for a drink; she just stops by to say hi before a team dinner or a study session.

(it’s fine — never once have you gotten an overpriced coffee from the cafe she started working at mid-october, and you probably stop by once a week between errands. that’s your excuse, anyways.)

so. things are different, but nice.

you lean across the sticky counter. “you want me to get down on my knees for you right now to prove which girl here i’d like to go home with?”

“baby….” vi shifts on the bar stool. it’s hard to tell under the dim multicolored lights, but you’re pretty sure she’s blushing, too.

“i think we both know you’d draw a bit too much attention to yourself. especially when i use my tongue to —”

“my car’s outside.”

you smirk. “my break’s in 15.”

you used to spend your breaks in the alley outside sappho’s burning through a cigarette. now you find yourself knee-deep in the passenger seat, eating vi out like she’s the last thing you’ll ever taste.

“f-fuck,” vi groans.

“feels good, yeah?” you tease her clit with her tongue, sliding two fingers into her easily. you work fast, determined to let her finish before you run out of time.

“so fucking good. i’m gonna —”

she clenches around your fingers; you lap her up eagerly, let her writhe against your face until she’s had enough.

you sit back on your knees once her hips still, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. you crane your neck to check the time on the dashboard, when you notice something in the footwell.

“vi! i thought i lost this.”

vi grins at you sheepishly, chest still heaving as you hold up the complete works of audre lorde, a tattered book with a well-worn spine and dog-eared pages.

“sorry. i meant to put it back on your nightstand once i was finished.”

you open to where she’s placed a makeshift bookmark — the ticket from an underground sirens of zaun show you’d both gone to. you’ve had this copy since freshman year, the scribble of your handwriting in the margins of practically on every page.

“it’s okay,” you tell her. “you like it so far?”

“yeah.” she grabs the book from you gently, thumbing through the pages. you wonder if vi registers the curves of her own smile, tender and bashful. “honestly, i’m not usually a fan of poetry, but it’s really cool how lorde writes about desire between women in such a tangible way, you know? i really liked this one verse in ‘recreation:’ ‘touching you, i catch midnight as moon fires set in my throat.’ it’s just so - so beautiful, the idea of something so domestic and mundane being almost magical, because that’s what it’s really like when —”

you don’t even realize that you’re staring until vi looks up at you and freezes.

“sorry,” she clears her throat, closing the book and setting it aside. “did i say something wrong?”

you assure vi that she did nothing wrong.

you exit her car, the taste of her lingering on your tongue, the feeling of her keeping your body warm on this cold november night.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

hey

are you in town during break?

v⚽️

having dinner at my dads’ on friday but otherwise im here

why? u gonna miss me??

wndr wmn

lol

im having ppl over for friendsgiving on sunday

if you wanna join

v ⚽️

hell yeah

can i bring anything?

wndr wmn

just your pretty face

i’ll take care of the rest

turkey, cranberry, sauce, stuffing, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie…

etc. etc.

v ⚽️

damn!!!!

full course meal

wndr wmn

yep

im basically wife material

v⚽️

pls we’re so over gender norms

but yeah

you are

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi has never been the type to wait by the phone for a girl to text, or to show up at her place after not hearing from her in a while, worried that she might have done something wrong.

yet here she is, standing outside your door.

it’s cool, though. completely platonic behavior.

she knocks.

there’s no answer.

she knocks again.

nothing.

vi waits another second, leaning her shoulder against the door.

“it’s me, wonder woman,” she tries.

hope flutters in her chest as she hears you shuffle, unchain the lock. vi stumbles as you throw the door open, but she recovers quickly to find you: smudged black eyeliner enhancing the shadows underneath your eyes, hair in disarray, clothes disheveled.

“i’m not really in the mood for sex.”

vi can’t help but laugh, even though your comment feels like a punch to the face.

“wow. figured you would think more of me by now than just some horny teenage boy.”

“look, vi —”

vi?

since when do you call her that?

“i’m sorry i missed the meeting today. i texted mel —”

damn, so your phone does work.

you’ve just been ignoring her calls and texts.

“but i’m just… it’s not a good time, okay? i’ll see you around.”

ah.

the classic generic excuse and non-committal statement combo.

you start to close the door on her before she even has a chance to get a word in.

the hits just keep coming.

thankfully, vi’s always been a good fighter.

“wait.” vi places her palm firmly on the door before you can fully shut her out. “i’m just here to check on you.”

your face remains unchanged.

“okay, well, you’ve checked on me.”

“yeah, i’ve checked on you. you look like shit.”

you glare at her. “well i’m sorry i didn’t have the time to get all prettied up for you. i know that you like me better that way.”

“that’s not what i —” vi inhales sharply. she’s a fighter, but she doesn’t want to fight you. “mel dropped the news — about admin officially cutting our funding. i knew how that would affect you, so….” vi lifts the bag of takeout. “i brought some thai food for us to share. a pomegranate, too, because i know you like seasonal fruit. it’s been a while and honestly, i just….i just wanted to spend time with you.”

you exhale, your eyes softening.

there.

a hesitant smile, an invitation to come inside.

there are clothes all over your floor and dishes piled high in the sink. your desk is littered with empty boxes of cereal and cans of an energy drink that normally you’d never touch. the blanket that sky had crocheted for you — lavender and pink checkered — is unfolded on your couch, your laptop half-closed on the coffee table in front next to two stacks of printed essays — ones marked with purple pen, the others untouched. in contrast, your bed is still perfectly made.

you take the blanket and wrap it around your shoulders, sitting at the kitchen table and curling into yourself. vi busies herself in cracking open the pomegranate, putting the seeds into the last clean bowl in your cupboard. the palms of her arm wraps are now stained a reddish-purple, but she doesn’t care.

vi manages to find two pairs of clean chopsticks for the thai food, and the two of you eat in silence.

“so….” vi starts, watching you stab a piece of chicken before popping it into your mouth. “you wanna talk about it, or….?”

“what’s there to talk about?”

“well, for starters, maybe tell me what’s been getting you into full hibernation mode? we haven’t seen each other in, like, a week.”

“six days,” you correct, chewing a mouthful of noodles. “last tuesday, we played pool during my closing shift at sappho’s. i lost. you made me down two shots of tequila because you’re a menace and you know i hate it.”

“yeah, but i drove you home and tucked you into bed with water and advil for later, so i’m also a gentleman. so, just tell me what’s been going on. we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

“it’s fine,” you grumble.

“clearly, it’s not. just tell me what you need.”

“what i need is to not be distracted,” you huff, avoiding eye contact. “i certainly don’t need you —”

“taking care of you, i know.” vi grabs your hand from across the table. she feels you stiffen on instinct, and then ease into the heat of her skin. “trust me, i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to be. so — humor me.”

vi squeezes your hand, hoping to reassure you.

you sigh. “i’ve just — i’ve been spiralling trying to figure out how the centre can keep going with, like, half our required budget, trying to see if we can get some external donors and i still need to finalize the venue and equipment rentals for our last open mic….and….and my sibling called again to tell me that things haven’t been great at home, so i want to go down there this weekend to sort everything out, but my car hasn’t been starting….plus i’m behind on grading, and i told my supervisor i’d have a complete draft ready by thursday and i’m not even halfway done, and that’s the same day we’re having that art build for the climate rally on friday, and i’ve been having the worst cramps since this afternoon, and all i wanna do is pass out and sink into my duvet, but i need to keep going —”

vi squeezes your hand again, this time more firmly. “you need to slow down.”

“i can’t.” you huff. “i have to keep everything from falling apart, and if i don’t….”

vi shifts to the chair next to yours, still holding your hand.

“but you can’t do it all if you’re too exhausted to take care of yourself. from the looks of it, you’ve been living off of frosted flakes, red bull, and zero sleep.”

you shrug. “if that’s what it takes.”

“if that’s what it takes, then maybe it’s not worth it.”

“don’t say that,” you tell her. “it’s all worth it. i just wish it wasn’t so…heavy.”

vi nods, because she really, truly understands. she gives you the advice she can see you giving her in another context.

“you ever think that maybe it wouldn’t feel as heavy if you…i don’t know…weren’t too stubborn to ask for help.”

“there are things that are my responsibility, violet,” you tell her, slipping your hand away. you reach for the bowl of pomegranate seeds, meticulously picking up one at a time with your chopsticks and crushing it in between your molars. “i can’t just pass those off to someone else.”

“fine. but what about other things? like the women’s centre stuff — we’re a team, right? so we’ll figure it out together, divide the labor so you’re not doing everything. and, maybe ask your supervisor for an extension, too? and, well, i don’t really need my car this weekend, so you’re welcome to borrow it.”

you pause, narrowing your eyes at her.

“you said…. ‘we.’”

“well, yeah. i’m part of the team, aren’t i?”

“but you’ll be finished with your hours in a week. there’s no reason for you to stay.”

“of course there is,” vi whispers, studying your face as it morphs from suspicious to something else, something gentler.

her heart is pounding as she waits for you to say something, so vi starts to dig into the pomegranate seeds, the juice surprisingly more sweet than sour. some dribbles out from the corner of her lips, and you reach over to wipe it away with your thumb.

“i’d love for you to stay,” you hum, smiling, and vi feels her chest glow with a brightness it seems only you can bring out. “turns out you give pretty good advice.”

“so…you’ll consider it.”

you shrug again. “maybe. i am very tempted to take you up on the car thing.”

“all yours, if you want it.”

“are you sure?”

“it’s fine, wonder woman. i’ll just carpool to practice — it’s better for the environment, anyways. can’t show up to the climate rally as a hypocrite, can i?” she jokes, and you roll your eyes playfully. “and, i’ll try to fix your car while you’re away.”

“wow. you are a gentleman.”

“gentleman? baby, i’m husband material.”

you actually laugh.

“i thought we were over gender norms,” you quip. “but yeah. you are.”

vi’s cheeks heat up at your statement. you most definitely notice her blushing because you break out into a toothy grin

“i missed you, v,” you admit. “any other words of wisdom?”

despite your tender smile, you look exhausted. vi just wants to hold you through it all, tell you it’s gonna be okay. instead, she settles for placing a gentle hand on your cheek, running her thumb over the deep shadow underneath your eye.

“get some rest, pretty girl.”

a few hours later, you wake up alone.

you have a vague memory of warm arms wrapped around you, a heart beating steadier than yours. your sheets smell like old spice, your apartment smells like fresh laundry. you get out of bed and notice that there are no more dishes in your sink, no more cans or containers on any surface. all the clothes you’d been meaning to wash are now carefully folded on your couch.

there’s a bright pink sticky note on your nightstand next to the keys to vi’s car.

you talk in your sleep. something about stargazing? maybe we can go when you get back.

drive safe. text me if you need anything.

xxx

- v

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

zaun yellowjackets vs. piltover knights.

two minutes left in overtime.

one goal standing in the way of their trophy. one goal to end piltover’s monopoly over the title of national champions.

caitlyn probably told her knights to be extra aggressive — win by any means necessary — so it’s been a long game of dirty plays and intentional fouls.

vi always puts her heart into every single game, but this time —

this time, it’s personal.

zaun’s defense works to regain possession and prevent piltover’s attack. ashe manages to intercept a pass between two knights, and is quick in dribbling the ball until mid-field. she sends it over to vi with a swift kick. vi’s quick on her feet, catching piltover’s defense by surprise, sprinting closer and closer to the goal. she makes it to the penalty box.

this could be the winning point.

vi has it, too. she’s so fucking close, about to fake out the goalie and kick into that hard-to-defend sweet spot — until a sharp, pointy elbow collides with her ribs so abruptly, it knocks the wind out of her lungs. she stumbles forward over the ball, knees skidding onto the grass. whoever it is also steps on vi’s cleat for good measure.

“fuck!” she looks up to see who it is.

of course. it’s maddie fucking nolan, who doesn’t spare so much as a glance as the ref doles out a red card. she nods at caitlyn as she walks off the field, no doubt following her captain’s orders.

her teammates help vi to her feet, and the ref makes sure everyone is in position for the penalty kick.

this could be the winning point. vi just has to ignore caitlyn’s icy stare from a few feet away, and the heart threatening to beat out of her chest.

vi takes a deep breath.

she looks to the stands. among the crowd of screaming fans, zaunites and pilties alike, is vi’s family. they’re cheering.

you’re there too, sitting next to them.

everyone is staring at vi, waiting for the whistle, waiting for her to make the shot, but the only person she stares back at is you.

you’ve got this, v, you had whispered to her the night before. she couldn’t sleep, so she called you. vi wishes she was back there, now — tangled in flannel sheets, lucky snoring at the foot of the bed, gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling until she finally fell asleep in your arms.

but, vi’s on the field.

and this is the winning point.

the whistle blows.

she makes the shot.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“i told you i wasn’t a jinx!” powder sticks her tongue out at mylo.

she’s all sweat and dirt and adrenaline, but, fuck, if vi isn’t so, incredibly happy and proud of her team, of everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve accomplished.

it almost doesn’t feel real.

just like it doesn’t feel real, seeing you talk animatedly with her sister’s boyfriend, laughing along with her siblings, smiling as you watch her dads hug and praise her.

when it’s your turn to do the same, you practically leap into vi’s arms, gushing about how amazing she was, how proud you are of her.

“this looks good on you,” vi hums, as you pull away from another hug. her fingers play with the bottom of the jersey, and she bites the inside of her cheek to ground herself in the moment. you, with her family. you, in her jersey. “thinking of joining the yellowjackets?”

“i think i’ll leave the soccer to you,” you tell her. “you were amazing out there. guess i should be calling you wonder woman from now on, huh?”

“wonder woman! that’s where i remember you from!” vander suddenly exclaims, stepping closer to the pair of you. silco turns around, too. “you once tried to get into the last drop with a fake id, didn’t you? under the name diana prince?”

“shit,” you laugh nervously, eyes flickering between vander and the ground as if you’re once again a teenager caught in the act. “i….probably did.”

“i kicked you out, told you to go home to themyscira.”

“yeah…i….i remember that.” you nod slowly, furrowing your brows. “except, i didn’t want to go home that night, so i lingered outside,” you continue. you turn to vi, and your face softens. “which was when you —”

“brought two glasses of cherry coke and rum,” vi finishes; she sees flashes of that night as you gaze into her eyes. “we climbed onto the roof and —”

that was her first kiss. vi never even realized until now, but —

you were her first kiss.

“i can’t believe i forgot that.”

“weird, how memory works,” you agree, tilting your head curiously, looking at vi with a newfound interest, like a ghost from your past.

“well, isn’t this a story we’ll be sharing on your wedding day!” vander chuckles, ruffling vi’s hair.

“don’t pressure them, darling,” silco chides, but the smirk growing on his face gives him away. he’s loving this drama. “they’re barely 23 — i doubt they’ve discussed marriage.”

“oh, we’re not —”

“yeah, we’re just —”

“friends,” you say at the same time, careful to avoid eye contact.

vi feels like she might burst into flames at the knowing look vander and silco share.

“well, violet, would your friend like to join us for a celebratory dinner?” silco asks.

so that’s how you’re sitting between powder and claggor, listening to them talk your ear off about the young innovator’s competition. vi’s sitting across from you, next to ekko, who occasionally pipes in.

you’re here, sharing the tradition of a post-game meal with vi’s family at the local pizza parlour.

caitlyn never even wanted to meet vi’s family.

a few pizzas are ordered for the table, and you eat and laugh and sip your soda along with everyone else. you make a flower out of your paper napkin and hand it to isha, who’s on the other side of powder, and she gives you a toothy grin in return. you answer all the standard questions about your job and major and plans for the future.

“after graduation, i’m probably gonna take a break, get some work experience,” you explain. “maybe save up some money for law school a few years down the road.”

“you wanna be a lawyer, huh? you sure you wanna be friends with a felon, then?” powder asks, blowing bubbles into her soda through her straw.

vi coughs, choking on a mushroom.

��powder!”

“what! she never told you?”

you shake your head, glancing over at vi who suddenly finds it hard to look you in the eye. your foot has been pressed against hers underneath the table all night; you pull it away now. she takes a big gulp of water; vi looks over at vander and silco for help, but they seem to be caught up in their own conversation.

“oh, damn! ” mylo adds, leaning over. “it’s a great story!”

“guys, maybe don’t —”

“but it’s a great story!” mylo insists. “shows what a badass you are!”

“she didn’t do anything serious, like murder or anything,” powder clarifies. “it was really just her pissing off some enforcers —”

“rightfully so,” ekko adds.

claggor nods. “we were just kids. they were harassing us for some bullshit, disruption of property or whatever, so vi steps in and things get heated —”

“it takes three of enforcers to get her handcuffed, but she manages to get a few nasty hits in before they send her off to stillwater —”

“she spends three days there —”

“i thought it was two —”

“no, it was three —”

“needless to say, this isn’t the first time vi has been sentenced to community service, but it seems she’s really enjoying it this time, thanks to you,” powder finishes, winking at you.

“well that’s….quite the story,” you finally say, voice steady.

“oh! let’s tell her about the time she stole from some enforcers that were hoarding food —”

as powder continues the story, and you listen intently, it’s hard to read your expression.

are you ashamed of being friends with her? disgusted by her family, her past? regretful that you ever let her touch you, let her into your life?

vi’s stomach turns when your eyes collide; she’s been down this road before, and vi’s scared that she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

she pushes her chair back and disappears to the bathroom before she has to watch you walk away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

there’s a knock on the door.

“someone’s in here,” vi says. she grips the edge of the counter so hard, her knuckles turn white.

deep breaths.

this isn’t the same as before.

this isn’t caitlyn, who threw vi out like a piece of trash when something better came along.

then again, you never knew this much about vi’s past. you’re well within your right to —

there’s another knock.

“v? it’s me….i have to get going, but i wanted to check on you before i leave.”

“okay,” vi clips. she looks up at herself in the mirror; she had splashed her face with cold water to calm herself down. a drop falls from her chin. “bye.”

“are you sure you’re okay?”

“i’m fine. see you around.”

you sigh, and vi hears you settle against the doorframe.

“violet, let me in,” you press. “please?”

“i’m fine. you can leave.”

“okay, well, i’m not leaving until i see that gorgeous face of yours one more time,” you whisper. “i got all dolled up just for you, and all i wanna do is give you a proper goodbye….”

well, when you put it like that….

vi grabs some paper towel to dry her face and fixes her hair before opening the door for you. you smile knowingly, enter and lock the door behind you.

you lean against the door as vi leans against the counter, the marble digging into her lower back.

“okay, i’ll start because, frankly, i don’t have time to waste,” you state after a few moments of silence. “nothing i’ve learned about you tonight has changed how i see you. it’s just confirmed some things.”

“right. like how impulsive and violent and reckless i’ve always been,” she lists glumly, unable to look you in the eye.

“maybe you are all those things,” you pause. “but, i don’t fucking care. i mean, i do, because it’s part of you and i like who you are. i like you.”

your words do wonders to ease the tension throughout vi’s body, and she feels like she can actually take a breath.

vi’s eyes lock onto yours.

“you do?”

“i like who you are, every part of it,” you tell her. “well, i don’t like that you’ve had to fight your way through an unbelievably fucked up system ever since you were a kid, but the bottom line is that you’re the strongest, most compassionate person i know.”

vi blinks at you.

“funny, i was just thinking the same thing about you the other day.”

neither of you say anything for a minute or so, letting the sentiment linger in the small space between you. once more, you’re the one to break the ice.

“well, you know what they say about great minds….” you step closer to vi. you take her chin between your thumb and your index finger. "can you guess what i’m thinking now?"

vi shakes her head, throat suddenly very dry.

“i’m thinking that i’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”

“what’s stopped you?”

you grin. “i didn’t want to make a fuss in front of your family, but now that we’re alone….”

vi doesn't say anything, but instead closes the gap between your lips.

you kiss her, harsh and messy, tongue and teeth, swallowing her moans as your fingers snake down the waistband of her pants. you pull vi’s bottom lip with your teeth before moving to her neck, nipping along the outline of her tattoo. you bite down harder on her skin, right at her pulse point.

"what’s that you said earlier —” a low groan tumbles from vi’s lips when you start to suck just above her collarbones. another when your tongue soothes over the sting. “about a proper goodbye…?” she tugs your hair so that you’re looking right at her.

it’s quite the sight — your lips swollen, chest heaving, eyes curious and lustful.

“anything you want,” you whisper, all breathless.

vi hums. she slips a hand underneath the frayed hem of your denim skirt, and you gasp as her nails scrape against your inner thigh.

she likes that you’re here. here for her.

"get on your knees for me, sweetheart.”

she pulls down her pants along with her briefs, as you kneel before her without hesitation.

you drape one of her legs over your shoulder, giving your tongue better access to her cunt. vi grips your hair tighter, bringing you in closer, and you moan, sending vibrations up her body.

"fuck," vi hisses. you add a finger, while your tongue works her clit.

you bring her to the edge, stay with her even as her thighs clench around your skull. she expects you to get back on your feet right away, but you stay, adding another finger and sucking her clit. she moans your name.

you pull away slightly. "one more, pretty girl," you promise. your chin glistens with vi’s release; you lick your lips as you gaze up at her through thick eyelashes. "can you do that for me?" she nods furiously, and you get back to work.

after letting her ride your tongue and fingers through another orgasm, you kiss her ankle before releasing her leg. vi pulls you up to your feet, sucks the taste of herself off your tongue.

you pull away slightly, heart racing against vi’s chest.

vi swipes her thumb over the smudged lipstick below your lip. she studies you, admires you, like you’re a fucking work of art that belongs in a gallery, like you didn’t just fucked her through two consecutive orgasms in the bathroom at a pizza parlour while wham's "last christmas" plays through shitty speakers.

"take these off." vi tugs at your tights. you do as instructed, slipping off your underwear as well. she pulls you towards her, and lodges a leg in between yours. your bare cunt brushes against her thigh, back and forth as she guides your hips. "i can't believe you got all dressed up…. wearing my jersey, and this pretty little skirt even though it’s so cold outside. all for me?"

vi flexes her thigh muscles, pushing you down faster and harder. you whimper.

"all – all for you.”

vi feels her pussy clench, with the desperation in your voice, the stickiness of your heat against her skin, the smell of the two of you intertwining. your orgasm crashes into you, and vi holds you through it.

you kiss her ever so sweetly before removing yourself from her grasp, smoothing down your skirt and looking around for your underwear.

"where are my...."

you look over as vi tucks your fuschia thong into the inner pocket of her jacket.

"i'm guessing you'll buy me replacements for christmas."

vi flashes you a shit eating grin before putting on her own underwear. she then pulls up her pants, not wiping your release from her thigh. she likes the idea of walking around with you seeped into her skin.

when vi looks over at you, you’re as fully dressed as you can be and busy checking something on your phone. she only sees a flash of your lock screen, but it’s her. a photo of her and lucky playing at the park; there’s snow, so it had to have been a few days ago.

that doesn’t mean anything, right? people use photos of their friends for their wallpaper all the time.

“i really have to go,” you sigh. you pull a tube of lipstick from your pocket and step closer to the mirror. “hey — do you think we could switch shirts? not sure i should wear this to my next dinner.”

vi nods and you remove her jersey, revealing a matching fuschia bralette. she wonders what’s got you all coordinated — who else you’ve clearly dressed up for.

“so, you’ve got a hot date?” vi tries to act casual as she takes off her jacket, pulls off her shirt, and waits for you to answer. you take your time, fixing yourself in the mirror.

“something like that,” you finally say with a shy smile.

later, when isha’s asleep on powder’s lap in the backseat, vi thinks about how your date might have gone, if you’re taking them home to the same bed vi has fucked you in throughout these past few months.

where do you get off, fucking vi in the bathroom during dinner while her parents are at the table, only to leave for another date, wearing vi’s shirt, too?

“hey, can i ask you something?” ekko asks from beside her, cutting off the angry monologue in her head.

vi reaches over to turn down the music.

“sure, little man. what’s up?”

“what’s the deal between you and wonder woman?”

vi clears her throat, gripping the steering wheel. “what makes you think there’s a deal?”

“oh, please, we all noticed that hickey on your neck after she visited you in the bathroom.”

the car crawls to a stop as the light turns red, and vi adjusts the collar of her shirt.

“we’re just friends.”

“well, powder and i were just friends for ages,” ekko points out.

vi doesn’t notice that the light’s turned green until someone behind her honks. she steps on the gas, but the idiot behind her still cuts in front of her.

“asshole,” she grumbles, throwing them a middle finger for good measure. vi glances to her right at ekko, who’s scribbling something in his sketchbook despite only the streetlamps outside providing light. “so, what made you….realize that you wanted something more?”

ekko closes his book, smiling to himself.

“honestly? it was kinda a million little things, but what it really comes down to is that she’s the only person i could spend every second of my life with, and i’d still want more time. and, in my experience….it’s better to tell someone how you feel sooner rather than later.”

“or, some people prefer to wait a few weeks,” powder mumbles, stirring awake. “nice try, mister, but no interfering. i’m not losing 20 bucks.”

“wait — you’ve bet on my love life?”

ekko smirks. “so it is love.”

vi shrugs, pretends that she doesn’t immediately picture you in your kitchen, making her banana pancakes at 2am when she hears the word love.

“it doesn’t matter.”

because, it really doesn’t matter.

you’re out with someone else right now.

it’s over before it really had a chance to begin.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

cupcake

Hey, Vi

Just wanted to say good game today

You played brilliantly

Violet

cupcake

No need for the attitude

I was just trying to be nice

Violet

my apologies!!!

thank you SO much for recognizing my talent captain kiramman

i feel like i’m actually worth something now!!!

cupcake

Bitterness isn’t a good colour on you, darling

Violet

im NOT your darling

cupcake

I’m aware

I saw you earlier with that girl

Are you together?

Violet

idk

are you still with maddie?

cupcake

Actually, we broke up

I was hoping you and I could chat

Violet

what’s in it for me?

cupcake

The chance to reconnect with an old friend

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you can excuse vi no longer attending the weekly team meeting. she finished her 100 hours around thanksgiving, so technically she didn’t need to be there anymore.

maybe you could excuse her ignoring your calls, or leaving your texts on read. it’s finals season, and she did mention picking up a few extra shifts to save up for christmas presents.

but you simply can’t excuse vi walking into sappho’s with caitlyn fucking kiramman, ordering drinks from you like you’re absolute strangers.

“what the fuck, vi?” you seethe.

vi glances at her date. caitlyn’s waiting for her back at a table, the glow of her phone screen illuminating her pretty face.

“what, should i have ordered something else? not every girl likes cherry coke and rum.”

you glare at her from across the counter, but start preparing their drinks nonetheless.

“why are you with her?” you throw some ice in a glass, the cubes clinking aggressively against the crystal. “are you back together?”

vi has the audacity to roll her eyes at you. “why’d you care?”

you catch yourself before saying something you’ll regret, something about liking her more than you definitely should considering the agreement the two of you had made.

clearly, vi doesn’t feel the same way; it’s not worth spilling your guts to her at your place of work.

“because we’re friends.”

“yeah, right,” vi scoffs. “you’re jealous, which you have no right to be because you’re seeing someone, too.”

you accidentally pour a double shot of vodka. you don’t really care, and mix the drink anyways.

“what the fuck are you talking about?”

“i’m talking about the date you went on the night of my championship game.”

“what date?” you slam the glasses in front of vi, so hard that you’re lucky they didn’t break.

“oh, don’t play dumb.” vi spits your name like it’s poison. “this whole thing started because you said you didn’t want a relationship, when really you just didn’t want a relationship with me. you used me until someone better came along. you lied to me.”

her eyes are glazed over, her voice shaking ever so slightly. you’re not sure if you’re more hurt or angry by what she’s saying, but it cuts deep; you continue as though you aren’t bleeding out in front of her.

“i don’t want a relationship with anyone and certainly not with you —”

“excuse me! are we able to order something?” someone with bright green hair and a septum piercing waves their hand in front of your face.

“yeah, just give us a second —”

“look, you and your girlfriend can fight on your own time.”

“she’s not my girlfriend!” you and vi snap simultaneously.

you glare at each other.

vi grabs the glasses from the counter, and walks away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

it took many brainstorming sessions, many boring conversations with potential donors, and many, many tears, but you managed to secure enough funding to keep the women’s centre going for the foreseeable future.

it was a team effort, of course, so you just want everyone to enjoy this open mic night, the last event of the semester — even though you are weighed down by the absence of a certain someone.

the gallery space on campus that you rented out is both cozy and electric, decorated with fairy lights on the walls, with pillows and blankets on the floor for people to sit and watch performances. there’s a table with drinks and snacks, a corner for people to make art if they’re inspired.

you’re rearranging the food, watching gert perform an original song when mel slides in next to you, wearing a gorgeous white dress with gold accents.

“do you mind running to the office? we’re out of paint.”

“really? people don’t usually use the paint.”

“well, it seems to be quite popular tonight.”

“it’s fine. we still have lots of other stuff. they can just collage or something.”

mel shakes her head. “i really think you should go get more paint.”

“maybe ask sky? i should stay here —”

“you could use a break, too,” mel cuts you off, placing a hand on your shoulder. “you’ve been nonstop all day; the rest of us can hold down the fort for a little while.”

you concede, mostly because she’s right and you don’t have the energy to argue.

when you get to the office, you’re surprised to find the lights on. even more surprised that someone’s already there, sitting on the zebra-striped couch.

“vi?”

she jumps slightly when you say her name.

“mel texted me,” she rushes out like she’s been caught red-handed. “said she needed help with something she’d been planning.”

you frown, until you realize why mel must have sent you here, specifically.

you haven’t seen vi since that night at sappho’s; you’d been quite a mess after your shift, ranting to mel on the phone about how she’d been right and you should have been more careful, how you don’t know what you did that ruined whatever you and vi had, and you really don’t know what you can do to fix it.

you’re both too stubborn to reach out to the other, so it seems like mel decided to take matters into her own hands.

“yeah, i doubt she’s coming,” you tell vi.

“okay,” vi says, but she doesn’t move. “i, uh, i was hoping i’d run into you, though.”

“yeah?” you raise an eyebrow at vi, crossing your arms. “needed another vodka martini for your piltover princess.”

“she’s not — we’re not together.”

“oh,” you exhale. the animosity you were holding towards her evaporates, but doesn’t completely disappear. you watch her, watching you stand by the doorway.

there are so many things you want to tell her, but you don’t even know where to start. you know that you’ve hurt her. she hurt you, too.

but, also:

you miss the cloudy blue-gray of her eyes, the scar on her upper lip.

you miss her.

“do you wanna come sit?”

after being so far away from vi, for what feels like forever, you don’t hesitate to take her up on the offer. your knees brush together as you settle next to her on the couch, a jolt of electricity passing through your body at the contact.

“so, i admit that —”

“vi, you were right —”

both of you stop your sentences short, chuckling nervously. you each urge the other to continue, and only get caught in a similar mess:

“i fucked up,” vi blurts out.

“i lied to you,” you confess at the same time.

an awkward, unfamiliar silence hangs above you; you’re not sure what to do next.

vi takes the leap. she tells you that mel explained everything: that you had to attend a dinner with alumni and potential donors on the same night of her championship game, but you kept it from vi since it was already a big moment for her; that you haven’t been on a real date with anyone else since september. vi apologizes for jumping to conclusions and falling back into caitlyn’s arms, shutting you out when she should have just talked to you.

you’re the girl who was her first kiss, she says. the girl who lingered in a vague memory, appeared in the fiction of her daydreams, and then suddenly became too real.

“i like you. i really fucking like you. and if it has to be as a friend, that’s fine because i don’t want to lose you.” vi takes a shattered breath, blinking back tears. she fiddles with the ring on her index finger, anxiously bouncing her knee. you place your hand there to steady her, and she exhales. “i guess i’m just not sure….when you said you liked me that night at the restaurant….is that what you lied about?”

vi’s practically doe-eyed, waiting for you to respond.

you shake your head.

“i lied when i said that i didn’t want a relationship with you,” you admit, and the hint of a smile dances across her lips. “i had this major crush on you, you know? every time you came into sappho’s….i couldn’t help it. and then you showed up here and we became friends, and then we started….well, you know the rest.”

“duh. i was there,” vi jokes, easing into her usual, playful self.

“i can’t do the whole casual thing,” you continue, rubbing circles into her knee with your thumb. “i know we made a promise, but i just can’t, not with you. it’s like…in every other relationship i’ve been in, i was trying to run out the clock. with you, though, with us, i feel like there’s never enough time —”

vi grabs your neck and crashes her mouth onto yours before you can finish your sentence.

you’ve kissed each other many times, in many different places, in many different ways, but never like this: like you’re both willing to break one promise if it means forging a new one.

“will you be my girlfriend, violet rose atlas?” you whisper as you pull away, lips brushing against hers.

you start to count the freckles on her cheeks as she beams at you, pulls you into her lap.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

2K notes · View notes

maybanksmusings · 2 months ago

Text

THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!reader, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; buckle up pookies, as this is merely part one of a multi-part fic that spans as far as the end of season three ( on the fence about season four but we will see ). as noted above, this fic will be canon adjacent, mainly focusing on the storyline as portrayed in the outer banks chapters of the 'netflix stories' mobile app. without any more of my yapping, i hope you all enjoy!

you can't help but squint once you step off the bus, your dollar store sunglasses doing very little to shield your eyes from the burning, outer banks sun. you bring your hand up in an attempt to further protect your eyes, needing to make your way to the seahorse hotel and fast.

a flash of long, blonde hair invades your vision, something you don't think twice about until the body attached to said hair knocks right into you, saturating your white tank top with her oversized cherry-coloured drink.

there's a beat of silence between both of you, behind darkened lenses your eyes bore into the girl before you. if looks could kill.

"shit! i am so sorry!" the blonde apologises, face turning as red as the newfound stain on your shirt. her hand darts out in an attempt to miraculously wipe the stain away "oh god, this is so embarrassing."

a part of you feels empathetic, it was an easy mistake to make in hindsight. another part of you wanted to push past the girl and continue getting on with your day.

"my name is sarah," she continues rambling, her hand still frequently scrubbing at the stain, making it worse "i didn't get your name, well no shit" the last part is barely a mumble, but you still catch it.

an unintentional laugh escapes you, finding amusement in her panicked awkwardness "if i tell you will you stop feeling me up?"

it was a joke, at least mostly, yet sarah froze in horror as the realisation set in. she was feeling up a stranger at the bus stop.

before she can begin rambling again, you speak up "my name is y/n." purposefully, you drop the surname. sure, sarah seemed sweet, but that didn't warrant spilling your life story at her feet.

sarah nodded in acknowledgement, taking a step out of your personal space and taking a proper look at you "touron?"

your face screws up, it feels like she just called you a name you couldn't repeat "excuse me?"

"you're a tourist, right?" sarah clarified, gesturing towards the scruffy backpack hanging from your shoulder.

"not quite," you trail off, unsure of how to broach your new arrival without dropping yourself in hot water "just, in town for a while."

"unlucky you.."

"unlucky how?"

sarah links her arm through yours, all but dragging you down the street alongside her "i'll fill you in on the way."

your protests and kidnapping allegations fell on deaf ears, only being told to stop being dramatic as she dragged you along. eventually, the dragging falls back into you willingly walking with her through pristine neighbourhoods that housed buildings like nothing you had ever seen.

you listened as sarah explained the outlandish rules that accompanied living on the island. the outer banks were essentially split in half, the kooks and the pouges, the haves and the have-nots, the sarahs and the y/ns.

when her pace eventually stalls, you have to tense your jaw to stop your mouth from falling open. you had seen some serious houses on the way here, but compared to sarahs they looked like dives.

"welcome to tanneyhill" sarah beams, but you can feel the uncertainty bubbling inside her as if she was embarrassed "come on, i'll show you my room."

you follow her through the glass doors and into the manor, eyes intently scanning the walls as you climb the staircase "you make a habit of bringing random strangers into your house?"

"do you make a habit of going home with random strangers?"

"depends if they're my type."

your quick rebuttal elicits a laugh from sarah as she pushes the door open, waving you into her room and heading straight for the closet "and what is your type?"

"you sweet on me, stranger?" you tease, your playful tone making it clear you were simply messing with her.

"with my whole heart, newbie" she laughs, the contents of her closet being dropped to the floor as she rifled through it "but our secret love affair must remain hidden as i am a taken lady"

with a dramatic gasp, you slap your hand to your chest and fall back on the bed "you wound me."

"sarah 'the heartbreaker' cameron is what they call me." as you're processing her surname, a white cropped tank is flung at you from the opposite side of the room "now, come on, boy talk"

"what if i wanna girl talk?" you question, holding the piece of fabric up to examine it "sarah 'the homophobe' cameron more like"

as she crosses the room to sit alongside you, sarah rolls her eyes "my sincerest apologies, sex talk then"

"cameron now i really think you want me." you wiggle your eyebrows at her, huffing when she hits you with a pink pillow with a sparkly 's' "hey! watch the rhinestones"

"you know, i was gonna try play matchmaker at the boneyard tonight but if you wanna be like that.."

"you just said a lot of words with very little meaning" you tut, not fully clued in on the outer banks slang.

by now you have risen to your feet, standing between the bed and the window as you changed into the clean shirt, balling up the stained one and stuffing it in your backpack.

"its a pre-storm rager on the beach, the one place kooks and pouges get along. we party as long as we can and when the storm hits, run for cover"

you're only half listening to sarah, instead your attention hones in on the head of curly brown hair down on the dock as it moves along a boat named 'my druthers'.

you barely register the figure by your side, watching just as closely as you were as the brunette is joined by three others, laughing and joking.

"that would be john b," without looking you can hear sarahs grin, mistaking your fascination for attraction.

"routledge?" your mouth opens before your brain can stop it, you knew who it was, but you needed to hear it.

"you know him?"

finally, your brain catches up and you somehow manage to pull a lie out of your ass "not personally, saw him on tv. some appeal for his dad."

sarah bellows out a soft, sad sigh, letting her thoughts be known without saying a word. there's an unspoken air of silence between you, until sarah, literally, shakes it off and stands upright again.

"wanna meet him?" the blonde offers, despite the fact its more of a demand as you're being dragged along once again.

only this time your refusal is much clearer, practically begging the girl to let you go before she managed to get you out into the yard. again sarah is misreading the situation, interpreting your panic as awkward butterflies.

your demands persist, though much quieter as you're dragged further down the dock, closer to john b and his friends.

"hello, ladies" john b's blonde friend greets with a low whistle and a cheeky grin, shamelessly checking both you and sarah out.

for a moment your anxiety vanishes, your entire nervous system sparking still but for different reasons. this might be the most beautiful boy you've ever set eyes on.

this. this was your type.

"you're new" he speaks, gesturing towards you "that's for sure, yet to be a time i've forgotten a face like that." with a wink, he takes your hand to place a kiss on the back of it.

you curse god. why couldn't you have met this guy somewhere else? why wasn't he the blonde stranger that took you home?

"you done macking on the kook?" a girls voice echos from behind him, her words and her expression dripping with disgust as she eyed you.

"i'm not a kook." you bite back, sightly too aggressive for a first impression but you couldn't help it with the look of clear disdain embedded on her face.

sarahs arm links through yours, a mumbled "easy, newbie" falling only on your ears "y/n is new in town, i brought her down here while i found out what you guys are doing on my dads boat." despite her civility there's a challenging edge in her voice.

"lest ye forget, i work here."

john b, suddenly emerging from the ships hull and hurling a snide smile in sarahs direction. you had only ever seen him on fuzzy news broadcasts, he was taller than you had anticipated, confrontational too.

though, genetics could explain that one.

"can we help you?" the girl speaks again, sending your eyes rolling as you face john b.

"can you tell your guard dog to stand down? last i checked one of us was invited here and funnily enough it wasn't her"

you hear another boy mumble an excited "cat fight!" to your new, blonde, hyperfixation as they exchange money on bets.

"seriously? i expect this shit from jj but pope? disappointing" john b tutted, sounding like a disappointed father as he got off the boat "not looking for trouble, just bringing back the diving shit, full."

menial conversation is exchanged between sarah and john b, though your attention mainly resides with the newly named jj. he was leaning back against the boat, rolling a joint without a care in the world.

you try to keep the glances to a minimum, after all you had much bigger problems to wade through right now, but you simply couldn't look away. he was the definition of magnetic.

even when he catches you looking, there isn't a morsel of awkwardness, just a knowing look of curiosity that lingered far longer than it should have.

then, he winks. he fucking winks before returning to rolling with that stupid, insanely hot grin on his face. you were far from shy, and only for the audience around you, you would've jumped on him long ago.

any reckless ideas potentially coming to fruition is spoiled when sarah, still linked with you, retreats back toward tanneyhill. with a final glance back at jj, you hold your thumb and pinky to your ear and mouth 'call me', earning yourself a wink and a crossed heart in return.

maybe this wouldn't pan out to be a total shit show after all.

#maybanksmusings #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank #outer banks #obx #obx 4 #obx season 4 #kiara carrera

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oh-babylove · 5 months ago

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~7k. copia/f!reader. explicit. established relationship, smut, filth and fluff. copia does date night, and you show him your appreciation-- it's only fair. mdni.

thanks to @copia for showing me how to put images in a grid-- top right image by instagram user susitse.art. @enjoy-my-swearing and @photiniainsummer, this one's for you. <3

when the red comes over you - ao3

rhrn spoilers. blowjobs, masturbation, dirty talk, light degradation, a small piece of light cum kink, a touch of hanky-panky in public, some thigh riding, face-fucking, fluff, tw: references to past sexual assault/dubious consent/sexual trauma

You’re holding the same pole on the subway car as Copia, his gloved hand over yours, swaying with him, forced into his space by the crowd. It gives you an excuse to stand close to him, in the circle of his scent like cold smoke. You're not complaining– well, not much. Keeping your balance is a bit of a challenge– you aren't used to doing this in heels, even these modest Cuban heels. Riding the subway truly is riding, the rhythmic thrum of the rails swaying up your body, through the balls of your feet. Riding the train feels like riding a living thing.

“I like this,” you say, as if coming to a decision.

“Hnn?” Copia replies, raising an eyebrow as he looks down at you.

“Riding the train. I like it.” You lean in to murmur in his ear, not that you have far to go. It’s a matter of tilting your head until you can feel the warmth of his skin against your cheek. “But I’d like riding you even more.” It’s just the kind of cheesy nonsense that you’re both into.

Your body keeps brushing against his– a particularly hard bump has your belly pressed against his erection, and his choked-off gasp scores a direct hit to your brain stem, bypassing your ears, cinching something tight around your diaphragm. His hand tightens on your hip, possessive. Holding you up, keeping your balance.

“You little minx,” he hisses, frustrated--with a ragged edge of delight. “You wait till I get you home.”

“You caint blame that on me, now, that was the train,” you say, but you're close to laughing, yourself. You can hear your accent getting thicker, but damned if you can stop it. Besides, Copia loves it, loves ruffling your feathers enough that he can get you to slide back into that slurring hillfolk drawl. Someday he might even make you less self-conscious about it.

Truth be told, you’ve been practically vibrating since before you left the apartment, restless and swollen between the legs, a low-grade ache that Copia has not been helpful with.

(The apartment. Your apartment. Yours, plural, now, you think. You’d never been a co-religionist of his, and he’d had a toothbrush at your place for a long time. Then a drawer in your dresser. Then he’d brought over his best frying pan, his best chef knife– simply because he couldn’t stand it, gattina, you cook with that? And now there’s as many of his books as yours on the shelves– shelves you put up with your own hands while he did ‘the heavy lookin’ on.’ His name isn’t on the lease, but he paid the rent for the next two months anyway. In full.

When you tried to fight him on it, he’d just shrugged. “Babydoll, I’ve been here more nights than I haven’t for the last four months, this is just… ehh, consider it backdated, yeah?” He’d kissed your forehead. “We can do half each after that. If you haven’t gotten sick of your dirty old man by then.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Copia kept his room at the Ministry, even after his… promotion. His term as Imperator, he’d decided, would be more hands off. You’d talked about it a little. Mostly in bed, sweaty and spent and a little sticky. “Mister Psaltarian is more than capable of running most of it. The administrative things. I’m better with the ghouls, I think, but there’s Kevin, and Ashley, they have it well in hand. I want the new guy to– to be able to be his own man, yeah? I’ll show him the ropes, of course, answer any questions he has, but he doesn’t need me looking over his shoulder all the damn time.”

The new guy. Hell of a way to refer to his long-lost brother. “And you ain’t ready to be around him twenty-four seven just yet.”

“...And that. Yes.” He was quiet for a moment. “You’re too perceptive, gattina. Keep it up and I’ll have to fuck you again, till you don’t think so good.”

“So… you sayin’ you gone fuck my brains out? Say, you ever notice that your man Psaltarian loses his train of thought whenever Kevin comes into the room?”

“That’s it, back in the handcuffs with you. And remember, you brought this on yourself.”)

As ever, he’d insisted on doing your makeup. (It should have been your first clue that you were in for it.) It only makes sense-- he’s better at it than you’ve ever been, and he loves doing it. You love it, too, if you’re honest. He had to take his gloves off for it, to hold your chin firmly and keep you in place. It was terribly intimate, his breath ghosting over your lips, the skin of his hand against your cheek. His quiet, gentle command held something still in the center of you, made it sing like a struck tuning fork– a calm vibration that sank into your bones. The cool brush of the eyeliner on the delicate skin of your eyelids. How meticulous he’d been, how precise. That calm focus he brings to everything that he cares about. How his whole being focused on that point, painting cat eyes sharp enough to kill a man.

Your lipstick had been worse, barely holding your mouth open, the brush sliding over the curve of your cupid’s bow, stretching out your lower lip ever so slightly. You hadn’t even known they’d made brushes for lipstick. Copia has taught you so many things.

Copia knows just what shades of red match your skin tone, knows just how to bring out the color of your eyes. He knows, too, the best cut of a dress to accentuate your figure, to flatter your curves. This one was lovely, shaping your breasts, with a little bit of flare to the skirt. He bought you this dress, these heels. This lingerie. He’s taught you how to fasten a silk stocking to a garter belt, that the underwear goes on over the garters, not underneath.

He’d taken the liberty of fastening your stockings tonight. “So the back seam is straight, gattina. I know it’s tricky to get right on your own, yes? Let me help.” His hands, his clever fingers, so high up on your thighs, his face level with your pussy.

“Oh yeah, sweetness, you're helping something, alright,” you choked out, a little strangled.

He must have seen how wet you were already, if the self-satisfied hum he made behind you was any indication. He bit the crease of your ass, just lightly, making a goofy little rawr noise that made you actually giggle.

Embarrassing, the noises he gets out of you.

“You shaved,” he said, and it was supremely gratifying to hear him a little hoarse, himself.

“Did you wanna do that, too?”

“Hnn. We’d miss our reservation.” He wasn't moving from his place on his knees behind you. “Miss the show.”

“Sound like you're enjoying this show purt’ well,” you said, but you thought it best to step into your underwear, anyway.

Pain shared is pain lessened, isn't it?

…He didn't need to know that you only kept them on for a couple of minutes, just until you used the bathroom one last time on the way out the door.

You almost never know in advance where exactly Copia will take you when it's his turn to plan date night- generally your only clue is what clothing he picks out for you, how he does your makeup, if makeup is required. You've ranged over the city hitting up obscure museums before, taken tours in the underbelly of the public transportation system, gone to aviaries and magic shops and tiny greenhouses.

(You like to think you hold your own. Dive bars and twenty four hour diners, sidewalk art festivals and night markets, one memorable instance of a graffiti lesson– that had been an unexpected delight.

Your man can be blisteringly uncool sometimes– most of the time, even– but there's no snobbery in him. No fear, either, not in the way most people are afraid: of embarrassing themselves, saying the wrong thing, of looking like a jackass. He hadn't been good at it, but he threw himself into the attempt wholeheartedly, listened to the man in the baggy jeans with the paint-stained fingers explain technique and theory and the history of the medium with total attention and enthusiasm.

Never will you reach the bottom of him. His openness and his generosity and his good, good heart.)

Dinner and a show is almost a little pedestrian, for him, but there's comfort in the classics. A bar paneled in blond wood and washed in warm light, specializing in rare vinyls piped in on a very serious sound system as much as the cocktails.

He’d been very good, kept his knee between yours, but otherwise, hadn’t even tried to put a hand up your skirt– a rarity, with him. His eyes told a different story, watching you with obvious, predatory hunger. The second time you caught him ogling your cleavage he leaned into it, dragging his eyes salaciously down your body with enough force that you nearly felt his gloves snagging on your skin.

The cheeky motherfucker actually licked his lips at you.

You barked out your unlovely laugh, and the way he grinned took the sting out of the sharp glances cast your way– the aim was to listen to the obscure bossa nova, not to your fellow patrons. Your face was hot. “Ah, gattina, you cannot blame a man for looking. Not when you are as ravishing as that.” It wasn’t helping the heat in your face.

A glance at the mirror over the bar, old and pitted and a little smoky, the perfect self-aware touch of authenticity. You’d never have recognized the woman looking back, not when you first met Copia, this exquisite creature with perfect makeup. Sharp. Sexy.

You don’t hate it.

“...Y’outdid yourself,” you said, slow. You didn’t look real to yourself, this absolute pinnacle of femininity. Copia’s gaze softened, warmed, less the slavering predator and more– a naked adoration that was hard to look at.

(Of course, neither expression was comparable to the first time he’d put you in an exquisitely tailored three-piece suit. You’d thought the man was going to pass out from how quickly his blood rushed south– but that’s a story for another day.)

He crowded your space, just this side of indecent, his knee halfway between your thighs. Copia fed you little morsels from his own fork of– whatever this was. A vaguely mediterranean inspired amuse-bouche. He took his time with it, making you duck your head while the cool tines slid against your lower lip. You kept his eyes for it, moving slow, relishing the way his mouth hung open.

It’s a little much, in public, truly.

You weren’t even sure what you were eating, something perfectly balanced with rich cream, phyllo dough, an acidic tang. Spanakopita when it’s got a Michelin star or two, you thought. Copia’s little shudder at your groan of appreciation didn’t escape your notice, but you managed to keep the smugness out of your expression with truly heroic effort.

From there, it was a short taxi ride with his gloved hand heavy on your knee, Copia keeping up a stream of polite chatter that you barely heard a word of. He’d gotten box seats in a lovely little jewel box of a theatre, for a revival of a classic two-man existential tragicomedy starring a couple of aging comedic actors known for their roles in a cultural zeitgeist film from around the turn of the last century.

It was a good effort, all told, and the actors weren’t bad– they had a chemistry borne out of twenty years of friendship that’s impossible to replicate. But Copia proved that he’s a true and faithful servant of the Devil somewhere around the start of the second act, when he peeled a glove off with his teeth.

Your chest went tight.

No wonder he wanted box seats, you thought, as he settled his hand back on your knee. Like it belonged there, like he had perfect possession of it, every right to edge just under the hem of your skirt.

(His hands-- you love his hands. He’s self-conscious about the hair on the back of them, the dusting of freckles. Large and well-made and skilled, seeing them is like sharing a secret. A gift. He’s squeamish about textures, too sensitive, the slightest scrape will make him shudder-- and not in a fun way. Sandpaper would be torture. Anything gelatinous is right out. You get used to the constant grime and the vague awareness of filth you get on your hands, living in a city. It’s not so bad, for you, you invest in hand sanitizer and don’t touch your face. It’s the price you pay for living in a place with something like a subway, where things pulse and hum and never truly sleep, to be a microbe in the gut of this beast of a city, to be a tiny cog in the great machine.

You love it here. You didn’t think you would. Hell, you didn’t think you could. “It’s growing on me,” you told Copia one day, cool as you like, as if you weren’t giving anything away. “A little.”

“You have no talent for bullshit, babydoll,” he said, both dry and terribly fond.)

All of your awareness focused on the soft warmth of him enveloping your knee, the rough scrape of his calluses on the inside of your thigh– a new sensation, he’s taken the acoustic guitar back up recently. Not moving, just–holding.

You kept your eyes forward, and your breathing even.

His thumb slid over your kneecap, absentmindedly tracing little circles. Your legs fell open a little wider, just so your thighs weren’t touching. You were terribly, achingly aware of the air on your cunt.

A soft stroke back and forth, a gesture that could have been reflexive, thoughtless– if it wasn’t for the beatific expression on his face, his eyes forward and too-innocent. It would have been more convincing if he hadn’t been inching his slow way upwards, featherlight touches, tracing up and back down, up and back down. Just a millimeter higher each time. An agonizingly slow drag, a glacial pace.

Your grip tightened on the armrest.

Copia leaned forward, his breath in your ear. “Why, gattina,” he purred. “I do not think you are even paying attention to the play.”

“You are,” you managed, “a real sunnavbitch, you know it?”

He only chuckled low, and ran his touch to the top of your thigh. The side of his hand brushed up against your wet cunt and you both gasped.

“You little slut,” he hissed, with obvious pride. “So eager for me already.”

He dragged the very tip of one finger up between your lips, so slick it was almost frictionless, pulling away just before he could touch your clit. You took a ragged breath that was nearly a whine, bereft at the loss of his touch. You felt your cunt clench over nothing, an involuntary contraction.

Copia hummed in mock-sympathy, and took mercy on you, cupping your whole cunt with his broad hand, steady and even pressure that was nowhere near enough, but at least took a little of the edge off.

His middle finger slid naturally between your labia majora, and settled there, his fingertip crooked so he could just barely feel the inside of you.

The bastard stayed that way for the rest of the performance, sometimes giving you a gentle squeeze, sometimes pulling away to slide his fingertip back up to circle your clit. Just often enough to keep your attention focused where he wanted.

Evil, evil man.

Copia retracted his hand before the lights went up, giving you one final squeeze. He kept your eyes as he brought his hand up to his face, inhaled deeply, and surreptitiously licked his palm before fitting his hand back into his glove for the applause.

“Play weren’t that bad,” you said, weakly. “No call to do- alla that.”

“Oh? Didn’t you tell me you had a crush on the– which was it, the one with the dark hair– as a little girl? You want to wait around, go to the stage door, get an autograph?” All innocence, all the accommodating boyfriend.

“I revise my previous opinion. You are the Lebron James of being a sunnavabitch.” Despite your discomfort in heels, you couldn’t drag him to the train home fast enough.

So now, here you are. You shiver a little, in this hot and humid subway car, remembering. You bite your lip and can taste the wax of your lipstick.

Copia sees it, of course he does, how your eyes go just a little glazed. He smirks a terribly self-satisfied smirk. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, this’d cost you at least a dollar. Maybe five nintey-nine.”

“Inflation is just outrageous these days. Highway robbery. I’m shocked.”

“Not yet, you aren’t.”

“You are talking a big game, babydoll. Be careful, I think, ehh-- your mouth is writing checks your ass can’t cash.” His hand heavy on your hip, almost indecent. His boot between your shoes, the sweet curve of his thigh displacing your skirt. He’s so close, so warm and solid. The train is packed, but he’s all you can see, all you can feel. His breath in your ear, pitched low. “Your pussy can’t cash.”

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from grinding on his thigh in the middle of the train. “Sweetness,” you croak out. “We’re in public.”

He leans back, conciliatory. Terribly smug. The world fades back in. You catch a teenager in a hoodie smirking at the two of you, a direct and uncomfortable gaze that feels more taboo in this city than even the way your hips keep shifting, restless. You feel almost drunk, stepping into the warmth of his body and his hard cock between your hip and your belly, a little vindictive, relishing his frustrated little grunt in your ear.

“Two more stops, gattina,” he murmurs, as much for his benefit as yours. You see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “We can make it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you manage.

He drags you roughly by your elbow off the train, in a way that has your fellow passengers actually making a faint murmur of disapproval at the way he growls. He might be leaving a bruise on your arm. Can’t be helped. You’re laughing up the stairs, your heels loud on the concrete and metal, giddy, just this side of hysterical.

He’s clumsy with the keys when you get to your apartment building, following you up the stairs so he can look up your skirt. “Can’t believe– I watched you put those on.”

“You just mad you didn’t get to watch me take ‘em off.”

He’s on your neck like a lamprey when you get to your door, and now it’s your turn to be clumsy while you paw through your purse, his hot wet mouth insistent, just under your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. His hands firm on your breasts, pushing the neckline of your dress down so he can fill his hands with them, gripping almost hard enough to hurt. He’s trapping you against the door, grinding into your ass while you fumble with the lock.

“What’re you– you tryna fuck me in the hallway?” you gasp. He’s reaching up your skirt now, his bare palm at the top of your stocking. When did he take his gloves off?

“I will,” he growls, “if you don’t hurry the fuck up.”

You somehow make it in the door without breaking the key off in the lock, and you give him just enough time to slide the bolt home before you’re shoving him onto the couch. You’re in his lap just as quick, your mouth on his, nearly biting him as he laughs into your mouth. Christ, you didn’t even get out of your heels.

He’s warm under you, solid muscle under a sweet softness around the middle, and you can’t unbutton his shirt fast enough. His tongue in your mouth is making you clumsy, making it hard to keep track of how buttons work, shorting out basic motor functions. When you make it, you groan at his fur under your palms, and then he shoves his thigh between your legs and you whine when you grind your wet cunt against it. You have to break off from his mouth for it, clinging to his shoulders.

Your lipstick is all over Copia’s face. He’s grinning, rapt, delighted, impossibly fond. The man’s face is so pink it looks like he’s been slapped around. “Good, eh?” He pushes his thigh forward again, his hand up your dress and on your ass. “You like that?” He’s pulling you into it, making you drag your cunt over his tight jeans. The seam running down the front of his thigh hits your clit and you gasp. “So fucking desperate you need to hump my leg, filthy little thing.”

You roll against him once or twice more, because he’s right, it feels so good, those long runner’s thighs, the coiled power of him. That hard muscle and rough fabric against you, his body between your knees, so warm and familiar and beloved.

But his smirk is just a little too smug for your taste, so you have to make yourself stop before you fall too deep into a rhythm. Even if you actually hurt with being so turned on for so long. You get his shirt the rest of the way open, have to bend your head to suck a nipple into your mouth– the terrible brand over his heart level with your eyes– and bite. It’s not hard, but it does raise his back off the couch, and distract him from you eeling down between his legs to kneel on the floor.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, looking down at you, knowing (some of) what you have in mind.

Your hand is on his belt buckle, and the sheer Pavlovian reaction you have to the sound of undoing it with one hand forces you to press your cheek to his thigh and focus on your breathing for a moment.

You laugh, shaky. You left an actual wet spot on his jeans.

Copia’s hand is in your hair, fingernails running along your scalp, soothing, grounding you. “Baby?” he asks. “Babydoll, are you alright? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You catch your breath, look back up at him, and his mismatched eyes go from soft and sweet to almost afraid, when he sees your expression. The hunger there– you could eat him alive. “No, I was just– too turned on, for a second.”

“Oh.” He pets at you again, then his smile turns predatory as he sweeps your hair up in one hand and pulls tight. “Then why don’t you get to sucking my cock, puttana?”

Just for that, you lean up and bite at his belly, the sweet furry softness just below his navel. You laugh with a mouthful of his flesh at his yelp, how it turns into a groan as you unzip his jeans and take him in hand.

It isn’t as if you aren’t intimately (haha) familiar with his dick, but it’s always nice to see. You’d called it pretty, the first time you’d slept with him, and it really is an accurate description. (It had been emotional for a great many reasons, but that had touched him in ways he still couldn’t articulate.) Silky soft skin over the hard length of him, his head already shiny with precum. It’s the same color as his lips, under the paint.

“You see what you do to me, gattina?” he murmurs above you. “You wreck me. You’ve ruined me– or at least these pants.”

“It’ll come out in the wash,” you say, and take him into your mouth, slow suction, tasting salt. He fills your mouth, fills your hand, blood-warm and firm in your grip. You watch his eyes when you start to suck him down, loving, as you always do, how in that first moment he looks at you, whimpers at you, like you're breaking his heart.

You hear the dry click of him swallowing as you pull the soft skin of his cock further towards your mouth, your grip twisting, the slow churn of it. How his veins give under your lips, under your hand. It doesn’t take long to get him slick, the thick ridge of the underside of him heavy on your tongue. The musk of him fills your whole senses, thick and animal and a little gross.

His hips shift, and before you have to pull yourself off of him to tell him to talk, he’s doing what you want. “Look at you,” he breathes, reverent. “You’re so good at this, fucking made for this,” a twitch upwards, a movement too small to be called a thrust, “aren’t you? Born for this, your god made you to suck my cock. My perfect– ohh– perfect little cocksucker. Want it so bad, don’t you?”

His hand is heavy on the back of your skull, pushing you down with that even, steady pressure just how he likes. How you both like. “Don’t worry. I’ll give it to you, give you what you want.” He’s not choking you with it, you have plenty of room to work with your hand. Still, as you take him down further, swallowing around the thick length of him, you feel hot tears running down your cheeks, sheer dumb animal reaction. You slip your other hand to cradle his slick balls, rolling them gently, the weight of them a little cooler than the rest of his body. He makes a strangled noise, an “Ohh fuck, baby, babydoll, so good for me, so good to me, fuck, fuck–!”

His stutter and his loss of control are just too much, finally, you feel the air of the apartment cool at the top of your slick thighs, your swollen cunt, and you have to do something about it. You take your hand from his balls and slide it up your skirt, slowly enough to feel your silk stockings under your fingertips, slow enough that Copia catches it.

Just as you register how fucking wet you are, his eyes go wide and his hips shudder, the smooth hot head of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

Your grip tightens on the base of his cock, a warning. You freeze, staring blank and unseeing at his soft belly, before looking up at him imploringly. “Okay,” he says, gentling you like a frightened horse. His big hand moving in your hair. “Okay. But baby,” he's nearly whining as you slowly suckle on the head of him, faint living salt in your mouth, “I know you want it, you’re too fucking good at that to not want it, I. Ohhh.” His hand grips tight in your hair as you swallow around him, thick and hot on your tongue. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re finding your pace on his cock again, a little faster, your hands working in time on his cock, on your clit. Freshly shaved like this, you’re fantastically, impossibly slippery. “Ohh, fuck. Oh, sweet Satan. Oh my dear Lord Below.” Copia absolutely doesn’t know what he’s saying, he so rarely gets outright religious on you. It’s an unspoken courtesy you’ve extended to each other, so to hear him break it sends a smug little charge through you. You whimper a little around his cock, give yourself a little more pressure on your clit. He can’t keep still, not all the way, even though you know he’s trying, making little aborted movements of his hips.

Copia swallows. It’s remarkable how you can see him trying to pull himself together. “Knew you loved this,” he says, his voice creaking. “Can’t be that good at something if you don’t love it. Didn’t know you loved it this much, gattina.” A little more pressure on the back of your skull, his nails scraping your scalp. He isn’t exactly holding you down, but he isn’t letting you pull off, either. “Never had my cock sucked this good, never even had a man suck my cock this good, thought I liked that better, before you came along. Had so many people suck this cock–” and that hurts, a hot bolt of pain and arousal that hits your heart and your clit at the same time. Your pace falters, and it must show, because Copia slows as well.

It’s a sore spot. You know that his own inverted form of celibacy in the Ministry included a certain implied… availability that could be, charitably, unpleasant for him at times. Clergy take no wives, no husbands, but give themselves freely to their congregation. You haven’t pushed him on the things that happened to him, he usually insists it was fine, expected, normal– but you generally have to go for a long walk and break something after you talk about it. You know, too, that he had positive experiences there, genuinely caring relationships. It doesn’t exactly help matters that your own knowledge of partnered sex, before Copia, falls radically short of the mean for someone in your age group.

All of that goes through your head in a flash, and he knows it, he can read you so well, even between one stroke of his cock and the next. “Only– didn’t know you’d have a natural talent at this.” Petting at you, soothing, his thumb moving tender on your cheekbone. “Remember, how I had to teach you how to kiss, those hours in the park.” You make a noise on him, not sure if this is helping. “Loved that, babydoll, loved doing that with you, teaching you, drove me wild.” He’s murmuring low to you, his voice a little rough, a little too exposed. “But I– I was ready for you to bite it off, the first time you went down.”

Awkward thing, laughing with a mouth full of dick. But he keeps going. “I didn’t know, my baby. I didn’t know how it could feel. Didn’t know how good it could be.” He twitches in your mouth, in time with a tiny movement of his hips, so warm and alive in you. “Taught you how to kiss, but babylove, I swear I felt like a virgin when you took me to bed.” His voice is low and wrecked for different reasons than it was before, and oh no, his eyes are wet.

You let go of him, turn your head to wipe your mouth on your shoulder, quick and perfunctory. You can't take your eyes from him. "Sug," you say, unsure how to continue, the twisting in your chest too much for words, beyond anything you could articulate with language. Your knees creak a little as you start to get up, to do what you don't know. Kiss him or touch him or say something, anything, to the way he's looking at you.

Copia pushes you back down, his hand heavy at the back of your neck. His thumb slots right at the base of your skull, right where he likes to keep it when he kisses you. “No, no, you’re too good at this, I wouldn’t interrupt an artist.” Back in some semblance of control. “You’re too good, you make me feel too good, show me. Will you--? Please, baby, will you show me how it can be good--?"

"Well," you say, pumping slow at his cock. "I can try." You press a tiny kiss to the head of him, too sweet for the situation, relishing the way he shivers. You take him in, how his hair is a disaster, sticking up in the back, his shirt open, your makeup smeared all over his face, his body, the parts of his thighs that you can reach. His pupils are blown wide, his eyes a little glazed, his lips swollen from the way you kissed them and the way he's bitten them. He's wrecked, and he's yours.

You love him. With all your heart, all your mind, and, you're afraid, all your soul. It hurts to look at him, you think he might sear your eyes right out of your skull.

You close your eyes against it, at how it stings, and nuzzle into the silky skin of his cock. Copia's belly is soft, warm, furred, delightfully sticky under your touch, as you run your hand up the front of him, up until you're cupping the sweet curve of his pectoral, until you can feel the cruel scar of his branding under the pads of your fingers. You trace over it, mapping the vector of those interlocking sixes. You feel his pulse under your palm, under your lips. You drag your mouth back and forth, just to feel the soft, delicately crenelated skin, the coolness of his flesh here soothing your feverishness.

Copia makes a tiny wounded noise as his hand presses over yours. As if he could press his heart into your hand. He’s better at language than you’ve ever been, but you can see it falter and fail for him. All you know how to do is– action. It feels inadequate, somehow.

Your dear man. He sees you, and raises your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles in a courtly gesture. It should be absurd, with you on your knees for him, with the delicate skin of his cock against your mouth. Somehow, it isn’t, the alchemy of his tenderness conveying exactly what he means. What you mean, with the most vulnerable part of him between your teeth. “D’you want me to take you to bed, babydoll?”

“No,” you say, pulling off of him long enough to murmur it against his slick head. “Later, maybe. If you’re up to it. Right now, I want–” It’s easier to wrap your lips around him again, to tell him that way. You’re more eloquent with your mouth this way than you ever were with language.

“Alright,” he says, almost a gasp, as he returns your hand to you. “Touch yourself for me?” Almost pleading. As if your pleasure were a favor to bestow on him. “I want– wanna see you get off, my baby, wanna see how much you love doing this. So fucking hot–” His voice breaks off into a whine as you pull him further into your mouth.

His big hand on your head, stroking your hair back, so sweetly. “Do you want me to be a little mean? I know you like that.”

You moan around his cock in an unmistakable affirmative, rut a little harder into your hand, plead with your eyes.

Copia’s smile turns sharp, wicked. “My perfect little cocksucker.” The deep affection in his voice belies the words. “Perfect little cumslut.” Your hand is already back between your legs, and you might– might– be moving your hips a little more theatrically than strictly necessary.

He holds the back of your neck, the base of your skull, his grip tight. Just this side of painful. “You know how to tap out. How to get me to stop.” He pushes you down on him as he tilts his hips up to you, not quite cutting off your air. “But you’re not gonna do that, are you?”

Copia licks his lips. He looks feverish, making shallow little thrusts into your mouth. “No, you. Ohh, you like this too much.” He’s so careful, even like this, testing just how hard he can thrust, finding your limit and pushing just past it before backing down. It makes you moan, makes you shiver, makes your hand speed up on your cunt in time with the way he’s pushing into your throat.

“Cruel to me,” he croons, as he uses your mouth. “Keeping that sweet little pussy from me.” He’s panting. “I can hear it, hear how wet you are.” As he says it, you realize you can, too, the wet noise in counterpoint to the sound of you working his cock. “M’gonna make you pay for it. Hope you’re ready, gonna eat you out till m’hard again.” He’s got both hands on your head now, and he’s too far into you for you to use your hand on him.

“You’ll. Hnn. You’ll need me to, to eat you out. Make you cum on my face.” If it weren’t for the sheer adoration in his eyes, this would be brutal, the way he’s pushing into your throat. The speed of your hand on your clit. Moving with him, point and counterpoint. “Fuck, I’m gonna wreck it, gonna split your pretty little cunt open– I’ll last longer, after I cum down your throat.” You whine around his cock, your cunt clenching on nothing, shivering against your hand.

Copia sounds like he’s in pain. It feels like he can’t stop himself, the way his hips are working. “Gattina,” he whines, helplessly. “Can’t– can’t last much longer, you looking at me like that.” You can feel him trembling under your touch. “D’you. You want it?” Movements a little more shallow, holding himself in check. “You want this cum in your mouth?” A rough, jagged thrust. “Little slut–!” he hisses, and he’s not quite too far gone to grin in smug delight at the way you moan in reaction.

“Gonna cum like this?” he croons, taunting. His white eye bores into you, too bright, and he looks crazed. Deranged. It’s almost frightening, the way you can’t look away from it. Your eyes burn, hot tears on your cheeks, and you couldn’t stop rubbing your cunt if you tried. The way he’s watching you, the way he sees just how turned on you are by him using you like this. Like it’s shameful. “From me fucking your slut mouth like a little cocksleeve.” His voice is creaking, nearly out of control. “You want this cum? You want it? Hmm?”

You’re hanging on by a thread, your nerves strung out like piano wire, helpless before him. Your jaw hurts, his hand so tight in your hair. “Then take it.” He’s beckoning you over the edge, chanting, rapt. “Take it, take my cum, take my fucking cum–” he rasps, knowing exactly what will set you off, will snap the bright line of you.

You see his smile as you break, whining around his cock. How he lights up at it, overjoyed, crooked and tender. You hold his eyes the whole time, giving him as much of it as you can, letting him see all of it, the shining abyssal affection that crashes through your body for him, catching your nerve endings like fire through tinfoil.

“Ohh–! Precious,” he says, almost crying, “my precious girl, my baby, my–” his voice breaks on your name, the syllables like a song, like a prayer, like something more than holy, like the shahada, like the shema, like it's the last thing that he knows. You never knew your name until he held it in his mouth like this, at the uttermost end of himself. He’s flooding over your tongue, slick and bitter. Like the first jet from the fountain in school, sun-warmed metal, iron from the earth, living water.

His cock jumps in your mouth, and you’re shaking, trembling through your aftershocks and his as you swallow all of him, pull all of him into you, watching his eyes and his blissed out expression until his voice does– something wrecked. “You–!” he gasps, delighted. “C’mere, come up here, you’re too– too far away–” he’s pulling at you, babbling, delirious, so soft now.

Copia’s pulling you up, into his arms, his lap, too quick for you to wipe his cum and your spit from your mouth. “Dunno if I like it, you that far away, wanna feel your pretty little body when you cum, you–” And then he’s kissing on you, shivering, laughing, little pecks along your jawline till he reaches your mouth. He makes a deep, appreciative groan when he tastes himself on your lips. He pulls back to look at you, almost scandalized in delight.

You have to laugh at him. For once you can’t be bothered to be self-conscious about it. “Oh, I do like that,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before he dives back in, like he has to get all of it. You’re still shaky, a fine shiver all down your spine. He’s almost clumsy, licking into your mouth, a real rarity for him. You try not to feel too smug about it.

You can’t stop smiling, when you finally get your mouth back. “Acceptable, then?”

“So good. Every time, I can’t believe–” he’s nuzzling at you, his nose against yours, totally uninhibited in his affection. “So perfect, so sweet, love you so much, thank you, thank you, baby–” Nonsense babble. Incoherently effusive. He scoops your legs across his lap and runs his hands over all of your skin that he can reach. “Perfetta…sei perfetta. Angioletto,” he murmurs, and you shiver. You haven’t heard that one in a while. “Angioletto mio,” he’s saying, into your hair, your skin, and it’s rare that you blow him all the way back to Italian. “Sei tutto ciò che voglio del Paradiso.” You’re a little too fucked-out to parse that all the way, but it still snags in your heart a little.

(He knows, usually, how you still aren’t used to being loved on this much. You know he restrains himself, tries not to overwhelm you. It breaks your heart, sometimes, when you see him hold himself back, even as his consideration makes you warm.)

Now, though, it’s good. It’s perfect. His pants are half off, his dick out, ridiculous. You think you might have snapped a garter, and you definitely put ladders in these stockings. You couldn’t give less of a shit. You loop your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, letting out a deep, contented sigh.

Copia’s still petting you– appropriate enough. You feel like a cat in a sunbeam, even supremely disheveled like this.

He squeezes you lightly, again, and makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “The, enh– the talking. It wasn’t too much?” Like he’s shy, all of a sudden.

“Noo!” You have to pull back to look up at him. “No, holy shit, sweetness, it was inspired. Even for you! Hot damn, baby. ‘Cocksleeve,’ where did that come from?”

“Ehh– a couple of times, there, I’m, ah. Not even sure I remember what I was saying.” Is he blushing? It’s adorable.

“No, it was great. I’d tell you if it weren’t, honeybunch.” You lean your head back against him, boneless and warm all the way through. “Naw, this was awesome. Ten outta ten, go Team Us.” You hold up your hand for a high-five, and your sweet man, he’ll never leave you hanging– the slap rings loud through your living room.

He tilts his head back onto the couch, looking up at the Devil’s Ivy crawling over your bookshelves. “Although,” he says, slow, considering. “I do seem to recall that I promised you I was gonna make you cum on my face.”

“And split my pussy open,” you remind him. “Or was you writing checks your dick can’t cash?”

“Babydoll, don’t you know by now?” He’s turning back to look at you, his mismatched eyes full of predatory adulation. “The Devil always keeps his promises.”

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verdemoth · 1 month ago

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And the last of my Flondon PCs, making her tumblr debut, my guy Dr. Narramore! Lucy to his friends. He's a freak and he sucks <3 she exists because I did want to experience the Seeking storyline but I'd never put Mel or Knoll through all that. So, Ulysses is designed to be locked in the torment nexus and experience the horrors and she can only get worse from here! But actually I'm yet to get to any of the Seeking stuff since I haven't been super focused on building up his account yet.

He's also an excuse to explore the Great Game content, and that gives me some direction to take his character. Speaking of characters, Darling Lark (mentioned on this sheet) belongs to my friend @skies-seas ! Also a character belonging to Sky is the one and only person in the world who Ulysses considers indispensable: childhood friend and mad scientist Rajendra Narod, also a Seeking PC who Sky made so we can do our favourite activity of making Fucked Up Guys together <3 <3 <3

Also yeah Horticulture Hell! I was brainstorming what my Seeking character should be like for months in advance, and I had the idea that instead of going through New-Newgate he'd start off in a different Menace location (fucking dying lol). Then Horticulture Hell happened and the idea of being new to the Neath while all that was going on was so funny to me, so that's when I made the account :]

i have some more notes on his character than I can share, but I'll do so in a reblog probably so this isn't TOO long. Transcripts to follow under the readmore

Text Transcripts:

In the top left are some quick details. Lucy's full name and title is Doctor Ulysses B. Narramore. In the style of other Fallen London characters, Lucy's epithet is 'the Mercurial Pawn'. Lucy uses both she/her and he/him pronouns interchangeably, he's 31 years old and 5 feet 8 inches tall. She resides in a handsome townhouse around Ladybones Road. Her profession is as a physician but she's also a spy in the making, and the faction she's closest to is The Great Game.

Next to these are some notable player attributes. Of the main attributes, Lucy has high Persuasive and Dangerous, but low Watchful. Of the quirks, she has high Ruthless, Heartless, Forceful, and Subtle, but low Magnanimous and Steadfast. He also has another notable quality: that he's Seeking the Name.

In the top right is this note: "Ulysses wasn't (knowingly) a Player in the Great Game before arriving in the Neath. He was inducted by a woman named Darling Lark, operator of a local speakeasy and go-between for spy and criminal activities."

Paired with the art of Lucy covered in blood are these notes: "Though lacking in training, discipline, and real practical experience, Lucy is a formidably aggressive foe. He doesn't fight gracefully and he doesn't fight fair. She won't shy away from blood, and isn't above kicking someone who's already down. ...He might be a bit too into bloodshed. The cane is also for stability, Ulysses has been having weak spells with a bit of a fall risk. But mostly it's a convenient, socially acceptable way to have a good bludgeoning weapon on hand."

With the last illustration of Lucy climbing from a well are these notes: "It is the case that many new residents of London come by way of New-Newgate, but Lucy's arrival was rather more dramatic. Amidst what is occasionally, by some individuals, still referred to as the London Horticultural Show, he found himself tumbling into the Neath through a weak bit of roof. She died, of course, and was in for quite the shock when she'd recovered."

End of text transcripts.

#fallen london #fallen london oc #image #alt text #described #my art #my characters #char: narramore #blood cw #i will stop myself from rambling in the tags and i Will follow up in a reblog when I have the chance #im really pleased w the vibes of his playlist so i'll probably share that too then C:

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vanillablankcanvas · 8 months ago

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Headcanons - The Ultimate Combo!

Brozone - drastically changed their looks coz they hate that they used to dress the same.

Brozone - All the brothers definitely hold doors open for the ladies and then close it on John Dory.

Brozone - All of the brothers share habits and mannerisms without even realising. E.g. tapping their chin when they're thinking hard, cracking knuckles when they're about to really get into a project, tapping toes when anxious.

Brozone - they became world famous, argued and left BEFORE the cage went around the Pop Troll Tree. (Canon?)

Brozone - there was a rumoured 'unfinished' Brozone song that was supposed to be released after that tour. John finally finishes it and the brothers offer to sing it for Poppy's bridal entrance song. Poppy immediately faints. In my head the song is 'Helpless When She Smiles' by The Backstreet Boys

Brozone - whatever the Trolls equivalent of the Superbowl is, I feel like Bruce and JD would be very into it. Jerseys and face paint and everything.

Brozone - when the brothers weren't sure how to reconnect, they ended up playing rummy together.

Bruce - one of those dads who would get a new barbeque and show off all the cool features to the other local dads.

Bruce - "No kids, we're not keeping that stray animal, end of story, no way..." - 1 week later and he's giving it kisses and building it an over the top kennel with a heated blanket and a water fountain.

Bruce - (canon?) carried all their eggs, indirect reason why his hair is so big. (Side note - I read somewhere someone called all their kids 'The Bakers Dozen' and I frigging love that)

Bruce - absolutely gets into the trashiest reality TV shows. "If Alejandro doesn't confess his love in this episode I will flip this table"

Bruce - makes Troll cuisine for his kids

Bruce - there aren't any Troll sized clothing stores around so Bruce sometimes has to make his own clothes.

Bruce - has considered getting his kids hug time bracelets

Bruce - the restaurants kitchen is set up like in Ratatouille (ladders, ramps, bridges, pulley systems) for Bruce to navigate.

Bruce - keeps every one of his kids drawings, their refrigerator is absolutely covered in them.

Bruce - his go-to excuse is "I can't, I've got 13 college tuitions to save for."

Bruce - has given 'love coupons' to Brandy before

Bruce - theorizes that his daughter LaBreezy will be the one to take over the restaurant.

Bruce - tries developing and inventing his own recipes, Brandy has to remind him that not everyone can handle as much sugar as a Troll can. He reels it back a bit.

Bruce - makes specific food for different reasons. E.g. makes bread when he's angry so he can take it out on the dough, makes lasagnas so he can use the leftovers as an excuse to visit someone, makes spicy dishes when he wants revenge.

Bruce - cameras make him self-conscious. If he is in a group he can tolerate it but hates being the only one in the photo.

Bruce - has caught his kids trying to do the Brozone dance routines. He tries to stay out of it best he can and let them have their fun but then they ask him to teach them and doesn't he just melt.

Bruce - has a wedding ring but it is Vacationer sized. He keeps it in his hair mostly but will braid it into his hair like an accessory for special occasions.

Bruce - 100% certain Poppy and Branch's first born would be a boy. "We're a family of five brothers! It took Brandy and I thirteen tries to have a daughter. Trust me, I have no doubt your first egg will absolutely be a boy." *They have a girl* Bruce 😑

Bruce - all the kids now request Brozone songs instead of lullabies.

Bruce - opened the restaurant before he met Brandy. Used all the money he had left from Brozone to open it.

Bruce - teaches his kids about body positivity.

Bruce - mortifies his kids by trying to use slang. "That was so very lit!" "Daaaaaaaaaadddddd"

Bruce - just starts being a Dad to everyone without realizing it e.g. cuts food into smaller bites, starts randomly folding people's clothes, licking his finger and wiping food off faces, always having snacks and bandaids in his hair.

Bruce - sleeps wearing a hair bonnet and continues his extensive skincare routine into adulthood.

Bruce - grew a full beard once. Then he had babies. They became obsessed with pulling his beard. No more beard.

Bruce - his kids have buried him in the sand more times than he cares to admit.

Bruce - has attempted to set up John Dory on a date with Brandy's sister.

Bruce - kept having kids because he and Brandy wanted at least one daughter. When they finally had LaBreezy they decided to stop.

Bruce - learned to surf to get Brandy's attention when they first met. Ended up falling in love with surfing before Brandy fell for him. 😁

Bruce - can and will reorganize someone else's kitchen to what he deems is more efficient.

Bruce - always the first to volunteer to babysit other Troll's kids. Not that he doesn't appreciate his own children, he just loves being about to dote on kids he can actually hold on his hip and carry in his hair. Just being able to do the little Troll things he can't do with his own giant kids.

Bruce - noone on the island knew about his 'past life' except for Brandy. (Canon?)

Bruce - has the world's best hangover cure but it's a secret.

Bruce - there have been times when he has muddled up his kids names and he hates himself every time.

Floyd - his hair is naturally pink but JD made him make it redder because 'we're a boyband and pink is a girls colour'

Floyd - absolutely judges you for your star sign

Floyd - knows exactly how to pop away that pain is someones back/shoulder/hips. Grabs JDs shoulder "Relax John. After three. One...two.." CRACK

Floyd - moves back to Pop Village for what JD calls 'early retirement' works in a sort of wellness center that has music therapy and yoga and stuff.

Floyd - in a desperate last resort he once mentioned he was part of Brozone to be noticed by a music producer. It's one of his biggest regrets.

Floyd - has volunteered at homeless shelters and performed at benefit concerts.

Floyd - was 100% sure he was going to die in the bottle. He now has a new outlook on life after being given a second chance.

Floyd - wants a long term relationship but is afraid of getting attached and being used.

Floyd - practices advanced yoga

Floyd - has developed claustrophobia

Floyd - released one solo album, one limited run, it was mentioned he is a former member Brozone on the cover to boost sales. It was a flop. This crushed Floyd.

Floyd - plans to get more body mods in the future.

Floyd - when asked about his past he describes it as 'colourful'. People are yet to find out what he means by this.

Floyd - kept two copies of his own album. He was going to give the other to Grandma Rosiepuff for her collection.

Floyd - when performing solo he does 10 push ups and drinks tea before going on stage. (Apparently Troye Sivan does this and I could see Floyd doing it too 😁)

Floyd - has tried on dresses and corsets before. Prefers overskirts.

Floyd - in a desperate attempt to try and forget V&V, Floyd nearly shaved his head.

Floyd - he actually wrote all of those songs for Velvet and Veneer!

Floyd - after the Mount Rageous incident he gets a little bit reckless without realizing it. He has an "I just survived death so cliff jumping isn't scary anymore' kinda attitude.

Floyd - can read palms and tarot cards.

Floyd - went through the seven stages of grief over his own death.

Floyd - can mix drinks. Messily. Was dating a bartender once and picked up some things from him.

Floyd - used to busk to earn extra cash (based on that one concept art)

Floyd - felt he needed to start a solo career because he wrote a lot of songs that JD didn't pay attention to.

Floyd - did in fact live with the other Troll tribes for a while. Hard Rock Trolls were the last ones he met. This was where he met his manager/mentor.

Floyd - high pain tolerance and godlike levels of patience.

Floyd - has been to rehab for hard candy, is currently 10 years sober. Now advocates for health and wellness in Pop Village.

Floyd - Broke up with several ex's when he found they were all only using him for his fame. 💔

Floyd - can only sleep comfortably near an open window. Sometimes can only sleep sitting up.

Floyd - will randomly stare off into space or mutter to himself.

Floyd - *clears throat* I ship Floom! 💕🏳️‍🌈

Floyd - can't stick to new hobbies for very long, he hyperfixates for a week or two then gets bored. Macrame, candle making, soap making, jewelry making, photography are some examples.

Floyd - did a few red carpet appearances during his solo era, he felt very out of place. @ssippingwaterfalls 💕

John Dory - has embarrassing baby pictures of his brothers as leverage

John Dory - over-exaggerates his retellings of stories "I fought off 30 no no no 40 snakes with one hand behind my back."

John Dory - always casually asking Poppy, Brandy and Viva to marry him, over small things too "Brandy, these pancakes are delicious, marry me."

John Dory - freaky level spice tolerance, looks people in their teary eyes as he bites a raw ghost pepper

John Dory - says "Gotta get home to the missus" when referring to Rhonda

John Dory - narrates himself "Against all odds, the brave and handsome Troll was able to tame the ferocious beast" he says as he's washing a purring Rhonda

John Dory - the Uncle that buys Bruce's kids toys that are either loud or that make a huge mess

John Dory - didn't finish school, made sure his brothers did

John Dory - has not kept track of his age and is in denial when people remind him.

John Dory - met Rhonda when she eats him. He just walks right out the door confused.

John Dory - has been arrested before, he changes the reason everytime someone asks.

John Dory - occasionally uses 'chewing tobacco' (which honestly in the Trolls-verse would be some kinda chewing gum 😂)

John Dory - serial flirt (very bad at it, he thinks he's great at it)

John Dory - does weird stuff because of his isolation e.g. will eat what's left over on the plates when Bruce's customers leave, will ask when the baby's due but they're just overweight, will go into detail about gutting a fish in front of Trollings.

John Dory - can open a wine/champagne bottle with his machete and light a match with his teeth

John Dory - does not own pyjamas, falls asleep in what he wore that day.

John Dory - has a midlife crisis when all the Trollings in Pop village thought he was Branch's dad.

John Dory - has had several concussions and plenty of broken bones. Got very good at applying first aid to himself.

John Dory - makes his own Moonshine

John Dory - sworn off ever having children.

John Dory - pretty scrappy at self defence, can hold his own when boxing.

John Dory - always has some kind of weapon on him at all times.

John Dory - tends to manspread when sitting.

John Dory - has been targeted by Bounty Hunters before, resulting in a gnarly injury on his hand he now covers with his glove.

John Dory - for a time he was convinced that he was the last Pop Troll

John Dory - sometimes refers to himself in the third person. "John Dory doesn't need a map!"

John Dory - doesn't 'get' modern art, pretends he does so people don't think he's dumb.

John Dory - will try to use fancier sounding words in a sentence, thinking it makes sense. It doesn't.

John Dory - when doing outdoor work, his brothers silently bet how long it takes before JD is unnecessarily shirtless.

John Dory - ends up helping with raising and handling the critters kept in the village. E.g rearing orphaned Cuddle Pups, shearing the Puffalos, breaking in the Adorabulls, taming wild flyer bugs.

John Dory - when living on his own, he would only come back to civilization just before the start of winter when it would be harder to forage and hunt food. He would spend a week or so stocking up on supplies, interact with the locals, then disappear again.

John Dory - takes night classes to finally get his highschool diploma. Is too embarrassed to tell anyone until he graduates.

John Dory - doesn't get sick often. But when he does, he keeps going to the point of exhaustion.

John Dory - has indeed crossed paths with Delta Dawn before. Both of them have very different versions of the story. "I serenaded her." "The fool was whining something from the inside of a jail cell."

John Dory - has been known to sleep with his eyes open. Freaks people out.

John Dory - will drink milk straight from the carton and put it back in the fridge.

John Dory - teaches Bruce's kids all the swear words and does in fact tell them his rendition of where eggs come from.

John Dory - claims to be holding back grey hairs with sheer will power

John Dory - believes in love at first sight, just not for himself.

John Dory - will wrestle and roughhouse to bond with people.

John Dory - if there was a couple sitting on a couch, JD will sit between them and not even realize what he did!

John Dory - he doesn't let it show but his ears are constantly twitching to check for danger, a side effect of living in the wilderness alone for so long.

Clay - writes long and very detailed critical reviews of restaurants

Clay - has reading glasses. Probably the ones that attach magnetically at the nose ridge.

Clay - labels everything (labelmaker is to Clay as Gary is to Branch)

Clay - very into color coded itineraries and always know everyone's business "Poppy is currently at Smidge's pod doing her hair" "How could you possibly know that?" "I have my sources."

Clay - also a notary and registered marriage celebrant

Clay - hair was always naturally green but JDs hair was already green. JD said he had to be yellow for the band, they needed that color coordinated group vibe.

Clay - has drafts for his own book series

Clay - actually plays golf

Clay - gets clumsy when trying to impress someone he admires (imagine him meeting King Peppy and he just knocks things over)

Clay - competitive af - brothers know better than to verse him at anything - has an over the top victory dance

Clay - receives special recognition alongside Viva for protecting the Putt Putt Trolls. (Knighthood? Trollstopia's official CFO?)

Clay - has a stupidly complicated coffee order

Clay - plans to move the Hole N Fun between Pop Village and Bergen Town. Imagine the business!

Clay - refers to Viva as his 'Work Wife'

Clay - knows how to use a stenograph

Clay - absolutely did not roll around the putt-putt course like the others.

Clay - everything must be neat and organized, after living with four brothers he values cleanliness so I imagine he would haaaaate glitter.

Clay - studied hard at math to set himself apart from his brothers.

Clay - occasionally tutors math to Trollings.

Clay - has a decent sized nest egg

Clay - graduated highschool early

Clay - has business cards stored in his hair

Clay - knows how to tie different knots for neckties.

Clay - can spin a pen around his fingers

Clay - is thinking of getting his own critter transportation

Clay - has no fuss, no fun breakfast. Plain toast or fibre cereal.

Clay - itching to hook Pop Village up with electricity.

Clay - was definitely the problem child. Being the middle child in a house full of teenage boys, coupled with the constant threat of Bergens with a sprinkling of John Dory as an older brother results in an angry little Troll boy.

Clay - his hardcore fans were known as Claydies.

Clay - the Putt-Putt Trolls didn't have a sad book club as they had no books! After the reunion Clay was very excited about the vast new collection of books he could get his hands on!

Clay - finds out that he was Poppy's favourite Brozone member when she was little and doesn't he just boast about it any chance he gets!

Clay - for Clay to finally forgive John Dory, JD agreed to perform for the brothers+Poppy and Viva in ONLY the funderdrawers. "Do you feel like you're having 76% more fun yet John? Cause I am!" *Camera snap*

Clay - bruises like a damn peach.

Clay - Viva made him co-leader after she gave up on the notion of being immediately rescued and realized Clay was already constructing and implementing long term settlement plans.

Clay - like the other Putt-Putt Trolls, he has basically become Nocturnal. Even with this, he pulls 'allnighters' to finish any work he has, so his sleep pattern is very inconsistent.

Clay - has a lot of energy. When he isn't dancing, he fidgets, taps his foot, bounces his knee, drums pens.

Clay - has many, many of the same sweater romper. All of them are different shades of green.

Clay - eventually hires an assistant. The assistant is mentally prepared for Clay to be a dictator of a boss. They are shocked when Clay keeps saying things like "Have you had a break yet?" "I think you need a day for your mental health." "Yes, that's how much I'm paying you. How are you going to save for your own pod if I pay you any less?"

Clay - had to quit being the Fun Boy cold turkey so that the Putt Putt Trolls would trust in his leadership.

Clay - I imagine a running gag that random Trolls keep calling him Viva's boyfriend/husband, and he keeps trying to correct them, but he is always cut off or they immediately forget. At some point a random Troll is like "What, is Viva not good enough for you?" And he is so exhausted from fighting it, he just gives up and rolls with it.

Clay - will stay up to sunrise reading 'just one more chapter'

Clay - his brothers collectively tried to convince him that he was the adopted brother.

Clay - is quite squeamish. The sight of vomit, open wounds and bodily fluids; Clay will absolutely pass out. Snotty babies make him very uncomfortable.

Clay - gets Viva to braid his hair out of his face only when something really serious is happening *cracks neck* "Viva?" "Yah?" "Braid me" "Yes, Sir." Shwoooop

Clay - Found out the Classical Trolls have a library larger the Pop Village. "Viva, they have a whole wing dedicated to tragedies! Tragedies, Viva!"

Clay - okay, so he and Viva have never been a couple, even if he ever considered it, their work came first and he didn't want to jeopardize what they had. Buuuuuuuttt the thought that another Troll could one day be Viva's person, that she would go to them instead of him for comfort or ideas or laughs or safety or hugs... it makes Clay feel... weird.

Clay - at some point is named some kinda Troll magazines most eligible bachelor. Bro was in a boyband, co-runs a society of survivors, runs a business, is close friends with royalty, has been knighted, has a license to practice accounting and was part of the only known Perfect Family Harmony. He's apparently a hot commodity now.

Clay - tells John Dory that some appliances are voice activated when they aren't. Will watch JD yell at the coffee maker. 😈

Clay - gets random nosebleeds.

Clay - is writing an autobiography. It will not be kind.

Clay - can read Latin.

Clay - overachiever. Was good at academics and sports in highschool.

Clay - a gambler, can count cards, good poker face and good at reading people's 'tells'.

Branch - for Pop Trolls - being in a famous singing group is the equivalent of being a recognized expert in your field. So, the fact that Branch is in TWO famous boy bands is like he has several PhDs.

Branch - Kismet formed inside a group home for Trollings

Branch - toying with the idea of building plans for a Pop Village Castle. (Secretly a fortress)

Branch - he is very, VERY aware that by marrying Poppy one day he would become King. In secret he plans. And plans. And plans. Mr. Survivalist Troll handles this new fear the way he usually does; with over-preparedness!

Branch - Kismet were the ones that originally got him hooked on ring pops.

Branch - learns phrases in other languages to build relationships with subgenre tribes of Trolls. E.g the K-Pop and Reggaeton Trolls.

Branch - started building the bunker while he was still living in the group home with other Trollings.

Branch - will hold onto Poppy in his sleep like she'll disappear if he lets go.

Branch - all those times that Branch thought the Bergens were coming? It was actually Creek harshly pranking Branch to make him look like a fool.

Viva - that concept art of tiny Viva is the age she was when they escaped the Troll Tree. So like 15 maybe?

Viva - wants to make up for all the missed holidays/birthdays/parties with Poppy so she is constantly popping out from places with gifts yelling SURPRISE!

Viva - does not knock on doors and absolutely will walk straight in when someone is changing clothes

Viva - snorts when she laughs too hard

Viva - biggest Broppy shipper. Already has their wedding planned in her head.

Viva - adrenaline junkie

Viva - no sense of personal space

Viva - rubs it into Clay's face that the ONE time he leaves is when Bergens show up. Uses it as leverage for the most petty of things. "Oh you want the last cupcake? Remember that time you left and Bergens came?" She's not even mad about it she just wanted the cupcake.

Viva - has made a list of all the things she's wanted to experience with Poppy. Makeup, planning parties, dealing with heartbreaks etc. they may not be the first times they've both done these things, but their excited to try them together. 😊

Viva - she reeeaaalllyyy wants to braid all of Bruce's hair. And Brandy's. And their kids. And oh look how much hair Vacationers have!

Viva - is worried that Clay doesn't need her around anymore.

Viva - wants to have children. Lots of them!

Viva - tries to hide sadder feelings from Poppy. Worried that Poppy won't want to hang out with her if she isn't fun.

Viva - calls the older brothers Mr.Bruce and Mr.JD (Clay told her to)

Viva - blows raspberries on peoples cheeks/arms/stomachs to show affection.

Viva - likes to collect 'things'. (Canon?) Never know when you might need the thing again. It can be reused for a different purpose. Side effect of trying to survive. Borderline hoarder. Clay does it too, he is just more organized about it.

Poppy - wishes that Branch would initiate physical contact more often.

Poppy - When something is wrong and the brothers don't want her to know, she can immediately tell because they call her 'Queen Poppy'.

Poppy - besides giving Clay and Viva their titles, she considers the other brothers unofficially part of her 'court' as well. (She might knight them later on, who knows?)

Poppy - sometimes feels guilty, if things had been different, Viva would have been Queen. Viva tries to reassure Poppy that she is "The right Troll for the role." 👍🏻 Also Viva tries to argue that they both technically get be Queens now anyway.

Poppy - would have many pillows and plushies on her bed.

Brandy - has swaddled Bruce before. By accident or on purpose, she will never tell.

Brandy - after watching Bruce, she now puts little things in her hair. Nothing huge, maybe a pen and a food order pad, a snack and bandaids for the kids. Depends on the day.

Rhonda - you know in Frozen, how Sven really wants to eat Olafs nose the whole movie? Imagine that but Rhonda wants to eat Mr.Dinkles

Rhonda - locks JD outside when she's annoyed with him. "Who needs you, I wanted to sleep on this rock anyway!"

Rhonda - when she was a baby she was more like a big suitcase than a vehicle.

Rhonda - really likes rolling around in mud, especially after she's just been cleaned. JD > 😑

Trolls - in general Trolls are pretty rare outside their usual kingdoms and it's considered good luck to meet one.

Trolls - letting another troll touch your hair is a very huge sign of trust.

Trolls - have their own version of godparents. Museparents.

Trolls - Can you imagine how many shades of foundation a Troll makeup store has to stock?! I mean, they probably don't need foundation but could you imagine?!

Trolls - having an egg on the way is known as an 'Eggnancy" 😂

Trolls - varies amongst the tribes but hair length and thickness is a good indication of their physical strength and health. So long, thick hair means they're healthy and can lift heavy weights. E.g. Smidge, Bruce, Boom. Whereas short, wild or thin hair means they could be older, unhealthy or just not physically strong. E.g. Peppy and Thrash.

Trolls - eventually a hybrid Troll (e.g. Techno/Funk) is born in Trollstopia and the parents name the baby after Poppy.

Trolls - JD and King Peppy do the same pose in some stock images. I like to think it's like a Pop Village salute. (It probably has an actual meaning)

Trolls - Hard Candy = Hard Drugs 🍭

Trolls - King Peppy invented all these bizarre holidays when they were trapped in the Troll tree to keep hope alive and to boost morale.

Trolls – teenage Pop Trolls wear eachothers hug time bracelets when they're dating. Like wearing their boyfriend's school pin or their jacket.

Trolls- Trollings can't make their hair into a gradient style until they are older. (survival/camouflage situations they can do, but only temporarily)

Putt-Putt Trolls - all delayed having Trollings worrying for their future safety. The very few eggs that hatched are hidden and protected by the whole tribe. (Putt-Putt baby names: Birdie, Par, Ace, Caddie, Fore, Eagle, Divot, Links, Scramble) Clay and Viva were present for every one of them hatching.

Putt Putt Trolls - all of them are wearing the same outfits because they used Bergen sized socks from the golf courses souvenir stand.

Putt Putt Trolls - use the courses tokens as general currency.

Putt-Putt Trolls - that coordinated attack to capture Bridget and Grissle? Clay was the one who planned and trained them.

Yodelers - Hickory and Dickory had a brother named Dock. He was the one that was rumoured to be crushed by an avalanche. He was the one to hunt down John Dory when everyone thought he was the last Pop Troll. While chasing him down a cliff side, he swung an ice pick straight through John Dory's left hand.

Sugar Gals - SPICE GIRLS TROLLS! I absolutely can picture young JD being so frustrated if BroZone was overtaken on the charts by a rival group

Crimp - goes to work for King Gristle and Queen Bridget after TBT.

Guy Diamond - Trolls have eggs when they have powerful feelings of love. Guy Diamond was able to have Tiny because he loves himself so much.

Tiny Diamond - checks on Branch and Poppy's egg daily asking if his new BFFL is here yet.

Tiny Diamond - the best wingman! E.g. He's hanging out with JD and starts playing up the baby image to lure in the ladies. "I wuv you Uncle John. You're my best friend!" And the ladies are like "Aww!" Tiny whispers "You're welcome"

Cloud Guy - gave Branch 101 reasons why he should officiate his and Poppy's wedding.

Queen Barb - messing with the Rock String made Thrash lose his mind and made Barb more aggressive. Notice they both seemed to be more level headed after the strings were destroyed?

Riff - studying to work in Aged Care. His studies are sponsored so that he can look after King Thrash.

Boom - Floyd's solo music helped Boom when he was coming out. 🏳️‍🌈

King Peppy - Didn't tell Poppy about Viva because he was in the early stages of dementia. (Canon?) For a while he thought Poppy WAS Viva. By the time he realised his 'mistake', Poppy was already grown.

Vacay Island - the brothers sometimes help Bruce at his restaurant. They have name tags with funny 'work names'. Flood, Big Fish, Classy, and Big Brunch. Viva and Poppy have done the odd shift as well, as Pinky and Diva. 😝

#dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls band together #trolls movie #trolls brozone #trolls branch #trolls floyd #character design #trolls clay #trolls john dory #trolls bruce #broppy #trolls poppy #trolls viva

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p0is0n-b0ttle · 3 months ago

Text

Two Cats Stuck in a Vent (One-Shot)

Word Count: 8186

Description: Noir gets stuck in a vent and has to call the only person she can trust for the job

Notes: No use of Y/N, instead your hero name Noir is used, no physical descriptions except for the hero suit with a set design. Basic power description for this fic is the suit is alive and his name is Khaane, (if you are aware of the show Miraculous it’s legitimately just Cat Noir with a few tweaks) the suit is black, has cat ears, and a belt tail. Khaane can speak to reader in her mind *like this* Reader is also a vampire but it’s a secret, if you’re interested in how I think the suit looks you can see my art, keep in mind the art is separate from the fic, only the suit is in the fic and its basically just the way I see Noir when I read the fic. Also this is my first fic I’m posting in 7 years so plz be gentle :’D more notes at the end!

TW: afab reader, vamp!reader, very suggestive themes, almost dry humping, cursing, a smidge of angst, blood, mentions of violence (it’s an Adrian Chase fic, fork found in kitchen), detached limbs, no smut but god are they both horny, NOT established relationship (they pining)

“—And I just thought, who would be the best hero to help find him, and of course it had to be you! Since— well, you know…” The old lady, Edna, she called herself, gestured to Noir's cat ears that sat on top of her head.

Noir crosses her arms and gives a slight scowl to the old lady. “Are you one of those people who think I'm actually part cat?” She says in an annoyed questioning tone.

Edna chuckles a bit, surprising Noir with how casual she was with a known criminal, even if some think of her as the hero she once was. “Honey, my eldest daughter absolutely adores you. There isn’t a day that goes by when she doesn’t mention you, and she just so happened to tell me that you are part cat, since your ears and tail move just like those fuzzy little angels. There is absolutely no need to be ashamed!”

Edna puts a hand on her shoulder, which Noir promptly removes casually. The whole being part animal isn’t a uncommon misconception of her and the other heroes that weld these gifted powers, but it's not exactly a smart idea to correct the information, since the less knowledge on these powers keeps everyone safe from their identities being revealed.

Noir rolls her eyes as the old woman keeps yapping about how she could just ‘talk to him, you’ll probably get along‘ and ‘I heard furries are acceptable now, not that I really understand it much’, but Noir interrupts her with a raised hand and tired voice, “Just tell me where you last saw him and I will try my best to find him, no promises though.”

Edna smiles, obviously not bothered by Noir's rudeness, and informs her of where she last saw her “baby”. After dodging another pointless and draining conversation with Edna, she leaves to go searching.

Noir, the supposed strongest wielder out of all the heroes who share her power, once celebrated for her and her partners heroic deeds by defeating powerful enemies and protecting the innocent, given medals for bravery and honor, and currently has more blood on her hands then most criminals, was now on a mission.

A mission to find a lost goddamn cat.

Reduced to this meaningless bullshit, she doesn’t even know why she agreed to this. Thinking more about it, it’s probably because Harcourt sent the group home early since the plan to stop the rest of the White Dragons goons needed more time to prepare, which left her mission-less.

On top of the fact that Adrian didn't want to patrol tonight, which was a first. He’s usually making up excuses to go on patrol, mostly with her, but tonight he had said something about a new episode of Fargo being on and wanting to watch it live for once.

He had asked her to join and watch with him, and said he wanted to “Fargo and chill, but actually chill… maybe” She immediately brushed off the ‘chill’ part with an eye roll but he insisted she would probably like the show. She explained she hadn’t watched any of it, nor even heard of the show before, where he excitedly started explaining the plot in either very close detail, or little to no detail which confused the plot for her further.

She declined the offer telling him she needed to go out tonight, insinuating that she was hungry. Adrian immediately understood and told her to enjoy her meal, then hopped in his car to drive home, leaving her alone for the night.

Adrian Chase was one of a kind, no doubt about it. His constant rambling and murderous intent was alluring to her. She enjoyed his company more than she would ever admit, and even after he had accidentally found out about her secret, she didn't kill him. She realized she couldn’t, especially not after he had accepted it so openly with no judgment.

He had even gone as far as to help her with finding criminals to feed on when she was too weak to do it herself. Though she was never truly too weak to do it, she just honestly adored the way he cared so deeply about her health, and her diet. He’d torture criminals into telling him their blood type, just because she enjoyed certain types. He admitted to looking into how to drain blood from the body, how to keep it as fresh as possible to ensure it was still to her liking, and since she could only drink dead-man's blood he had offered to keep detached limbs in his freezer just in case she needed it.

She quickly expressed how much he didn't need to do that, the kindness toward something no one knew about left her far more flustered then it should have.

Even worse, when she confided in him that she had always worried that drinking the blood of evil would turn her evil, he had offered his own blood to her since he was O negative, the only type of blood she could drink from someone still living.

The trust Adrian had to allow for even the thought of risking his life for Noir, scared her. Even though she’s well aware of having the ability to not suck all the blood from his body in one go, she wouldn’t allow herself to put Adrian in that position for risk alone. Not to mention the intimacy of getting so close to him while on a blood high, her teeth sunken into his neck, lips touching his skin-

Her thoughts about Adrian were interrupted by a loud crashing sound in an alley nearby. She quietly makes her way over to the sound and spots a black and white blur scurry right towards her.

She wasn't expecting the cat to run directly at her as soon as she turned into the alley, and the cat apparently wasn't expecting her to be there either, as its run screeches to a stop it stares at her as its breath heaves.

She holds her hands out and crouches closer to the ground, trying to be less intimidating towards the small frightened animal. “No need to be scared, just let me bring you back home—“

The cat bolts right past her, so she tries strategically tackling it and ends up missing. Her right cat ear twitches as she refrains from growling in anger as she watches it run down the sidewalk away from her.

*Very elegant of you Noir.* Khaane’s voice rattles in her head. She tells Khaane to shut the fuck up as she slowly picks herself up from the dirty ground.

She dusts herself off, muttering something about her dignity before she breaks off into a run after the cat.

She watches as it scurries into another alleyway to its right, and she follows but stays outside the alleyway once more. The cat quickly climbs up a garbage bin and jumps onto a fire escape above it, then it runs up the metal stairs onto the roof.

Noir rubs her face in frustration with one hand, and uses her other hand to unsheath her staff to use as a vaulting pole to get on the roof. She lands on the roof mumbling curses at the cat's invasions to her help.

The cat turns around at the sound of the Noir’s landing, and as soon as he spotted her, he runs in the direction of an open vent and jumps into it. Noir hangs her head and sighs, then starts to make her way over to the vent.

“I should have made your owner pay me for this bullshit.” Noir mutters as she starts to crawl into the vent slowly. Luckily it was blocked off by another metal grate at the end, leaving the cat trapped, unable to bolt away again.

She slowly makes her way through the short vent, with every inch she went, got narrower and narrower. She had to squish her shoulders a bit to fit even some of her upper body in. Using her legs on the ground of the roof, she pushes herself into the vent further.

”Come here you stupid fucking feline.” Noir says as she attempts to army crawl unsuccessfully toward the cat, the vent fighting her as she pushes her way into it.

She hardly gets her waist into the opening of the vent before she reaches for the cat, but it backs up further away from her. With her feet still planted firmly on the ground she quietly growls as she squeezes herself farther in using her forearms.

The vent starts to groan at the strain.

*Noir, be careful.*

“Fucking— Relax Khaane, I've got it. “ She spits out angrily, then reaches for the cat again and misses. He flattens himself against the wall of the vent, attempting to stay as far from Noir's hands as possible.

“You dumbassfuckingcunt—“ She steadies herself to push harder into the vent which in turn gives a louder straining noise. The pressure of the metal squeezing her as she desperately tries to get farther in.

Her hands move to go for the cat once more, only a inch away from him. She leans in farther, trying to ignore the sound.

*Noir…*

“Ive-“ She puts one leg into the vent, her knee digging into the metal.

”Almost-“ Her other leg follows.

Now on both knees, she’s so close to the cat she can feel the fur on her thin gloves. She sucks all her breath in as she finally gets close enough to grab him.

The vent creaks ominously as she goes to wrap her hands around the cat's torso.

*Noir! You’re going to—*

“Got him!” As soon as she grabs onto the cat firmly, her hips shift into the vent with a clunk.

Khaane groans, but she ignores it as she smirks at the cat triumphantly, but her victory is short lived as the pain in her shoulders finally spreads to her collarbones as her bones start to finally feel the pressure the tight space provides.

She hisses in pain, and immediately moves to back out, attempting to put her feet back onto the ground when she discovers a problem.

She’s stuck.

She lets go of the cat during her squabble with the vent, trying to desperately inch her way backwards to no avail. Her shoulders never even budge as she squirms and wiggles in an attempt to escape.

After swearing and struggling for almost 30 minutes, she finally accepts that she is truly stuck.

At this point the cat had decided Noir was no longer a threat, and was now laying down watching the scene unfold in front of him, almost looking amused.

She sighs in defeat and drops her head to the metal floor with a bang, and finally gives Khaane what he wants.

”Fine. Fucking— fine. You win. I should have listened to you—asshole. What are our options?” Khaane hums in thought.

*You wont like it.*

”The fuck do you mean ‘I wont like it’. Just tell me so I can get out of here!”

*You're going to have to call Adrian to help you.*

”Nope. No way.” Noir starts to frantically shove, squirm and ram herself against the metal surrounding her in a last ditch attempt to free herself. After another 10 minutes of fighting the vent, she goes limp in defeat.

There is no way she’s going to call Adrian right? She cant be seen like this, fucking stuck and vulnerable. He’ll lose every ounce of respect he has for her if he sees her this weak looking. But she cant call Harcourt, she’s working on the plan for the mission tomorrow, and so is John most likely. Chris was never even an option since he’d probably leave her here for laughs, She didn't know anyone else who could help.

Except Adrian.

With an angry growl and one last very aggressive flail, she sighs and admits defeat.

“Call Adrian.”

Only after two short rings does he pick up.

”Heya kitty, how's the hunt going tonight?” He answers cheerfully, a complete opposite on how Noir currently feels, even if his voice somewhat melted a little tension away from her aching shoulders. She sighs,

“I need you to come help me with something.” Immediately there is shuffling on the other end.

”Are you hurt—Did someone hurt you? You never ask for my help—“ His frantic worry fills Noir with guilt so she attempts to stop that train ride from going any further.

“I'm not hurt, I'm not in danger, I just— uhm…” She trails off, unsure if she should go through with asking him to drop whatever he was doing to help. He could always just say no.

“Do you need help hiding a body? Because if i'm honest, that’s not really in my wheelhouse. Don’t get me wrong, I'll still help! I'm thinking maybe buying like—five blenders to shred the body would— no that wouldn’t work, bones and shit—tsk— honestly I'm out of ideas.”

Noir hated this feeling of helplessness. Needing help was rare for her. She’s been doing just fine on her own, maybe she could just wait this out, but part of her knows she'll still be stuck here if she doesn’t ask.

”Noir? Are you there?”

”Yeah, Im-I'm here, just— uhm— no blenders needed, there’s no bodies— uhm…”

The cat in front of her decided to finally do something other than stare at her, and he meows loudly as he paws at her nose.

“Was- was that… you?” Adrian asks in a surprised tone. Noir glares at the furry menace,

”No. That wasn't me. Look, I’m—“ She sighs and bangs her head on the ground.

”I'm stuck.” She admits.

“Like, on a equation, orrrrr—“

”I'm stuck in a vent and I can't get out on my own.”

There is just silence from the other side that fills her with unease, maybe she should have waited—

“So you need me to come get you out?” He asks, still slightly confused.

“Yes, but I know you're busy with your Fargo so… It’s honestly not a huge deal, I-I can wait if-“

”Aww kitty, I'll happily come help you! I’m guessing you already called Chris and he was busy—“

”I do not trust Chris enough to come help me with this. That douchebag would probably post this on the internet and ruin my reputation. In absolutely no world would I have trusted him with this.”

Adrian is silent for a moment, the rustling on the other end stopping as well.

”… Are you saying… you trust me?” Noir could hear the happiness seeping through his question, that dopey smile slowly taking over his face flashed through her mind. She shook that thought away quickly, the blush that threatened to show up was embarrassing on its own, but she blamed the situation itself. No other reason for that. Definitely no other reason…

”How fast can you get here?” Dodging the question, she attempts to move again to try and get herself focused on the issue, and not the sweet relief she felt at the joy of his revelation towards her trust toward him.

“As fast as humanly possible!”

————————

After a little while, she hears footsteps slowly make their way over to where she was. A choking noise came from Adrians mouth as she started to try to get herself out on her own after a few minutes of him watching her tail swing in silence. Definitely only looking at her tail…

”You gonna stare, or are you gonna help?” She hisses in embarrassment. Her face finally starts to warm as she realizes the view he must have on his end. Adrian starts to walk closer towards her and clears his throat to speak,

”How exactly can I help if you— uhm— can't be touched?” He asks warily, as if the question could cause her to run far far away, which, yeah, she definitely wanted to at this point.

”What the hell are you talking about?” She says in confusion.

”Well it's just that… You always push away anyone who goes to touch you, so I try not to… you didnt even accept my high-fives… Or Harcourts hand shakes… I'm prrrrretty sure you almost bit me one time when I put my hand on your face—“

”OKAY— Point made, Vig!” She was not about to delve into that. She groans as she digs the heels of her palms into her eyes.

”Look, I trust you okay? Just— do what you need to do to get me out.” She moves arms uncomfortably, or attempts to at least. Is that why he stopped trying to high five her after every mission and instead high-fiving his own hand while looking in her direction? She just figured he gave up, but was it an attempt to make her more comfortable? Even the rest of the group still attempts to make contact without thinking, but he respects her space…

Fuck— he cares so much about her it made her dizzy.

“Fucks sake— Ill hug you at this point if you get me out! Just try at least!” She jumps as a warm hand pats her ass a few times almost as a test after a moment. The almost burning touch lit her face up more, almost triggering her fight or flight response.

“Relax kitty, I'll get you outta there in a jiffy! No way am I missing out on an offer like that!” She hears him crouch closer, both of his hands land on the lower part of her hips as he tilts her to the left and right.

She hears him still as he takes a deep breath in, his hands twitch on her sides before he clears his throat again.

“I'm going to try and pull you out now, okay?” His voice slightly strains as he speaks, his hands twitching again. Noir hums in acknowledgment and puts her head on her arms as she waits.

He steadies one foot on the bottom of the opening of the vent, the other planted on the ground and pulls her hips toward him.

Her shoulders barely move as he tries again with a little more strength, but not enough, as if he’s trying not to hurt her.

“Vig, I’m not made of glass. You can use all your strength, you’re gonna need to,” The faster this ends, the faster her dignity can reform. If she couldn’t get herself out, he definitely wouldn’t be able to with how delicate he was being.

“Trust me.” She growls out reluctantly. He tries again, she could tell he still isn't using his full strength.

“Fuck— you’re really stuck in there huh? Maybe we should call the fire people…“ He says kneeling down closer to her, his hands slowly, too slowly, make their way to the outsides of her thighs and she twitches at the feeling. His hands subconsciously twitch back in turn.

“Do you- do you mean the fire department? No— no fucking way. I’d rather die here—“ She tries to push herself back in tiny thrusts as she speaks, pushing her upper body on the metal floor for some kind of leverage.

“Fuck— Stop moving like that— you gotta relax kitty.” One of Adrians hands goes to cover his covered mouth as he rips eyes away from the direct view of her ass moving in his face. The other hand starts to absentmindedly trace circles into the back of her thigh with his thumb causing her to pause.

When his other hand goes back to her other thigh, mimicking the movement that feels far too good then it possibly should, she bites back a groan and covers her face with her hands.

She bites her lip as he sits there in thought, his thumbs start to slowly add more and more pressure, digging into the muscles of her thighs.

“Shit kitty, you are tense as fuck. Have you ever even had a massage before?” His hands, and attention apparently, start to move up and down the back of her thighs, lightly massaging the tight muscles.

When his hands just miss the swell of her ass and go back down, she squeaks out a very quiet moan from under her hand, hoping to whatever god was watching that he didn't hear it. He hums in question after she doesn’t answer.

“N-no.” Is all she’s able to get out. He sucks in a deep breath as he speaks again,

“No offense kitty, but— shit— you look really good right now—“

“Can- can we talk about anything else while you try and think of a way to get me out?” Her brain was short-circuiting at all of the thoughts of him fucking her, and the close physical contact that she hasn’t felt in years, only just keeping calm enough to remind him of his mission again as she has to fight her thighs from squeezeing together.

He pats her thigh twice a little roughly as he moves to get up. He stares for a moment at the way her ass jiggled at the movement and lets out a breathless “Damn..” Then shakes the trance off.

He starts to walk around the vent, examining it for any weak points that could help as he speaks up again.

After a bit, he says, “I thought the moon was a chunk of the Grand Canyon that broke off.” Noir’s mouth goes agape, almost squawking as she takes that information in but also thankful for the change in subject.

“There is no way you actually thought that…” If Khaane could slam his head into a wall, he would be doing just that and in turn, that feeling made Noir want to do the same.

“I'm not kidding kitty, I thought the moon didn't exist—“

“No, no way—“

”No, hear me out! Follow me here! When the meteor hit the planet and killed all the precious dino’s it knocked a chunk of earth off which was part of the Grand Canyon, and it formed into what the moon is.” Noir stayed silent for a moment, then responded with awe in her voice,

“You think something broke off into space when the meteor that killed the dinosaurs hit the earth? Are you familiar with the Grand Canyon?”

He was quiet for a moment, most likely looking up into the sky in thought like he usually does when he’s trying to confirm a response in his head, “Yes.”

“Doesn't sound like it!” She laughs out. Adrian fist bumps the air behind her, silently beaming at making her laugh, even if he doesn’t really know why.

”Okay, well there isn’t any way for me to unscrew the vent apart since its all melted together…” Adrian puts a hand on his chin in thought as he stares at her ass for answers.

”You mean welded together?” Noir asks, feeling slightly more comfortable and less humiliated.

”Potato tomato. Can’t you just— you know— disintegrate the vent? With your strong cool cat powers?”

“I could, if I want to disintegrate the feline with it.” She says as she glares at the cat itself, now grooming himself without a worry in the world.

Adrian hums in thought, and Noir thinks she hears him sit next to the opening of the vent next to her. Why the fuck isn’t Khaane helping? He has more knowledge than the both of them combined, he has just been silent this whole time.

*I'm honestly just enjoying your struggle, you did do this to yourself…*

Noir growls and rubs her face frustratedly. So Khaane isn’t going to help, for his own entertainment, now she’s left with Adrian and her mind. The latter being on hiatus with the whole situation being so… unique…

She can hear Adrian drumming his fingers against the ground as he hums a song she cant place, then he speaks up again,

”Why don't you like to be touched?” The loaded question hangs in the air for a bit. She really didn't want to get into this while stuckinavent but Noir trusts Adrian, so much more than she realizes. Which is why she answers honestly.

”I don't… not like to be touched, but it's a strange dislike. I guess I don't really like to be touched because… I crave it so much— too much.” Being hurt time and time again has led her to this way of thinking, coupled with the fact Khaane believes any form of love is weak. Everything about touching someone— or being touched— is a vulnerable and trusting process, which has burned her too many times before and left Khaane to heal what he could. But in all honesty, he can’t heal mental wounds, and when he tries, he makes them worse.

“That's kinda sad, Noir…” He says with sadness lacing every word.

”Life could be worse, Vig.” She says bluntly, she wants to be held so tightly that she can’t break, but there are so many pieces on the ground. And she'd rather leave them there instead of burdening someone else to clean up what she can’t.

”Life could be alot better, too” He shoots back. Noir stays silent after that, he’s right of course, but she doesn’t deserve a better life. At this point she’d rather be alone than be with the wrong person. Even if she ends up dying alone, which deep in her core she knows is most likely one of her worst fears.

Her tail swings and hits Adrians leg, and an idea comes to his mind.

”Oh! What if we take your belt off?” He asks, starting to stand up again.

“Do you really think that will help? It doesn’t feel like my belt is stuck on anything.” Noir says, slightly unsure. She can't remember the last time she actually took her belt off since the suit just appears on her as soon as she wants it to.

Adrian shrugs, “It can't hurt to try, right?”

Noir shifts uncomfortably but ultimately agrees. Adrains hands go under the roof of the vent and land on her lower back, and slowly, so fucking slowly, make their way up to the back of her belt. His hands follow the belt to go to reach under her, but stop when they hit the sides of the vent.

“Huh… Guess I have to go underneath.” His hands retract, then tap the insides of her thighs a few times which causes her to jump and cover her face as it somehow gets warmer.

“Open those legs more kitty.” Noir shuts her eyes and shifts her legs open wider. This is fine, totally fine! He’s just a friend. Just a friend helping her get unstuck. Totally platonic!

Adrians left hand rests itself on the back of her thigh, the other reaches underneath her and lands just underneath her chest. His chest makes contact with her thighs, and she can feel how close and warm he is. She bit her lip as the hand on her thigh started to move in circles again in a soothing way, but she wouldn’t exactly call what she felt very soothing.

The hand underneath her slowly drags down across her stomach, searching for the buckle to her belt. As it went lower and lower she finally let out a shiver at the vulnerable spot he was touching so softly. The heat between her legs that she had been desperately ignoring was now making itself very known.

Completelyplatoniccompletelyplatoniccompletelyplatonic

Something told her he was going a little slower then he needed to, but she wasn't about to start complaining.

His hand finally finds its destination, and with a click, the belt comes undone. She breathes out a sigh of relief as he pulls it out from underneath her.

He leans back on his heels still crouched and takes a closer look at the belt. The staff, pouch and tail connected to it caused so many questions he needed answers to, so he asks, “Can your tail still move when it isn’t connected to you? Like a lizard, or a starfish? Also, can I look in your pouch?”

Noir quickly thinks of anything embarrassing that might have been left inside of it, and comes up with nothing.

”Sure, I guess. And no, the tail can't move anymore since it's not connected to the suit, but Vig you need to stay focused. I’d really enjoy getting out before it gets dark.”

After a few moments of Adrian going ‘hmm’ and ‘ohhh’ while he looks at the contents of her belt pouch, eventually he returns to the task at hand. At least it gave her time to recover a little bit.

He claps his hands together and rubs them, “Okay kitty, lemme try and pull you out again.” He stands up and reaches back into the vent again, grabbing her hips like the first time.

After a few more pulls with no success, he maneuvers her legs to wrap around his waist and wraps his arms around each leg, bracing his foot against the vent for leverage. Noir locks her feet against his back and takes a shaky breath.

Adrian slowly starts to lean backward, relying on gravity to do its thing. Soon after he yanks slightly, then tries again harder when nothing budges. He huffs out after it doesn’t work with a few more tries, Noir reminds him that he has to go harder.

The next yank was far more forceful and he lets out a grunt. From this angle she can feel the vibration of it right against her, and it makes her fucking wimper.

“Did that hurt you?” His grip on her legs starts to fall, and in embarrassment and panic she tightens her legs around him a little.

“Keep going, I’m fine. Totally fine…” She whispers the last part mostly to herself, and covers her mouth when he goes to yank again. His breath slightly hitches after he grabs at the junction of her hips and leg to get a better grip and presses her ass against him more.

Adrian adjusts his foot higher on the vent, and a loud groan rips through his chest as he yanks again, a moan gets caught in her hand as bolt of pleasure goes up her spine at the slight relief between her legs when she feels the accents on his suit drag at just the right spot.

At this point she’s fighting with every cell in her body not to start squirming against him, the totally complete practical touches were leaving her so much warmer than she could handle.

Another grunt comes from Adrian, and in frustration with not getting her loose, he moves her hips right against his crotch for a better angle without thinking. Noir lets out a tiny squeak as her brain goes blank.

He’s about to yank again when he pauses, his hands twitch again but he doesn’t continue pulling.

”I just realized this is exactly like a porno I watch like- just last week.” He says casually, the thumbs that rest on her hips starting to soothe in circles again.

Noir can’t form a coherent thought at this point, but after a few seconds of no response or movement from Adrian— what the fuck is he even doing back there— she removes her hand from her mouth to try and derail that thought from both of their minds.

”I’m— I apologize for interupting your Fargo show, the one time you take the day off from patrolling and of course I fuck it up—“

”What? Kitty, you didnt fuck anything up. You needed my help so of course I came, I’d drop anything to come and help you!” Adrian starts to rub her back lightly, but as he continues he starts to massage the tight knots in her lower back making her drop her head as her eyes roll into the back of her head as she groans at the pleasure.

”Besides, I was already recording it, so it's not a big deal. I'll just wait for start of the next season to watch it live-“ That snaps her out of the haze he was putting her under as her head shoots up in shock, and it hits the top of the vent with a bang, the cat in front of her jumps at the sound and glares at her.

She groans as she rubs the top of her head, Adrians hands on her back start moving faster as he asks if she’s okay. Of course she’d interrupt him when he wanted to watch a finale of his favorite show, she’s such a fucking idiot.

”I can't believe I bothered you during a finale— god—I'm such a dick—“

“Noir, you don't bother me, you’ve never bothered me, you couldn’t bother me. I promise you, you’re not a dick, and it's not a big deal—“ He tries to quickly comfort her, as much as he loves Chris, Adrian has heard his fair share of being a bother to his friend, even if he thinks Chris is just being emotionally defensive most of the time. It still makes him feel like shit when he hears it but plays it off.

”But it was important to you, and that’s a big deal to me.” She groans and rubs her face, guilt eating her alive at this point. Adrian is glad she can't see the bashful smile that appears on his face thanks to his mask and the vent.

”I'm such a shitty friend.” She eventually says sadly, the guilt seeping its way through the statement. She already doesn’t think she deserves a friend like Adrian, now she knows she doesn’t deserve his kindness, his laughter, his loyalty. But Adrian isn’t about to let her think that way,

“Don’t say that— you are not a shitty friend. Kitty, I wanted to help you, I’d rather spend time with you more than anything else in the world. Especially if I get to stare at your ass the entire time.” She could hear the smirk on his face as he said the last part, the fact she could tell he was telling the truth made her squirm against him subconsciously.

”Alright, enough with the evil self loathing scorpions kitty, let's get you out, okay?” His hands go back to where they were before on her hips as Noir tries to sort through the wave of emotions she was feeling. She finally settles on an idea that comes to mind.

”I’ll watch Fargo with you from the beginning if that makes up for it.” She sheepishly says, the nervous tone coming from a rejection she was waiting to hear back. Instead she hears an excited gasp from him.

“For real? Are you being for real right now because holy fuck that would be so fucking awesome— It’s a long show so you’d have to come over a ton to finish it but you won’t see me complaining. I can make popcorn and we can have sleepovers-“

“If you get me out in the next five minutes I’ll think about a sleepover, alright?” Her smile started when she realized he was rambling again, his excitement started to seep into her chest as she felt his hands get tighter and tighter the more he went on.

Adrian goes back to yanking Noir, not getting anywhere still. He huffs out one last time in frustration, then Noir yelps as she feels him quickly lift her ass over his chest right under his chin, with his body now leaning fully back and both feet planted on the vent the only thing keeping him from falling on the ground is now Noirs stuck form.

His hands lock together underneath her stomach. His arms over he legs caging her in completely. Noir lets out a shaky breath and covers her burning face with her hands again.

With a strong yank, Noir finally feels her shoulders move back, just a little bit, “It’s working! Keeping going!” She attempts to help by pushing herself with her forearms on the ground of the vent, and with another yank and a grunt from Adrian she feels a slight relief in her collarbones. The thought of almost getting out of the damn vent has clouded over her thoughts, no longer caring about how close they were, or the risqué position they were both in.

“Holy shit— yes— Come on Vig— You— gotta— go— harder—“ Each time she spoke he yanked with more pressure, his grunts getting louder and louder as she finally started to inch back some more. She started to feel his arms shake from the strength he was using, if she wasnt more durable in the suit he probably would have cracked one of her bones at this point, but he kept going and she kept getting closer millimeter by millimeter.

Eventually she feels the pressure on her arms start to lessen, then a familiar clunk noise causes adrenaline to shoot through her. She’s almost out.

She can now hear the vent slowly creaking again as it fights to keep her locked in, but she starts to feel her shoulders lighten, she squeezes her eyes shut and starts to push back even more against the vent to help Adrian more. Noir slowly starts to feel herself winning against the vent as she slides backwards.

”Fuck— yesyesyesyesyesyes!” In a flash, she's outside the vent. Adrian groans as she lands on top of him, he now lays on his back with her just above him, his knees holding her upright against her chest.

Noir blinks a few times to adjust to the difference in light, and realizes the cat she was hunting is now in her hands. Khaane must have grabbed him for her when she was to busy being ecstatic that she was actually getting out.

Noir stares back at the cat with a triumphant smirk, “Got you, you little shit.” The cat growls lowly at her, but doesn’t squirm from her grip, he just accepts defeat and hangs limply in her outstretched hands.

Noir continues basking in her victory until she feels Adrians hands do that familiar twitch on the back of her thighs where they keep her from crushing him. She slowly turns her head around, twisting her body to see him and— oh my god—

She’s basically sitting on his face. Her cunt about an inch away from him. Noir scrambles up, using one of her hands to push herself off of Adrian using his knee, unintentionally spreading his legs wider and he groans in what she is going to call… pain (it wasn’t pain).

As she stands up nothing but apologies come from her mouth, but she goes silent after nothing comes from the masked unmoving hero. He’s just laying on the ground still, his hands resting on his chest as he looks like he’s trying to regulate his breathing.

Noir stands there with the cat in her hands with a worried look, and after another minute or two, she nudges Adrian with her foot lightly, “You good?”

The only response she gets is a thumbs up, which thumps back down onto his chest quickly. Noir smiles lightly, and crouches down next to his head to look into the visor at his closed eyes.

“Thank you for helping me Vig. I really appreciate you coming here to free me, and sorry— about almost riding your face.” Adrians breath hitches, and a twitch goes through him.

After another moment, the cat in her hands meows and Adrian's eyes open at the sound. He looks at the cat in her hands, then up at her and her heart skips a beat as she sees his eyes crinkle behind the visor as he smiles underneath the mask. After a slow breath he clears his throat and speaks,

“It was absolutely positively no problem kitty, I'm siked I was able to help you out.” Noir holds out a hand for him to grab, and he takes it with both of his hands. She pulls him up and has to steady him as he wobbles on his feet a bit.

They stare at each other, Noir bashfully smiles at him then after a beat, she speaks in a monotone voice, “Let's never talk about this again.”

Adrian chuckles and puts his hands on his hips as he shakes his head, “Sorry kitty, but there isn’t a chance in hell that I won’t bring this up again.” Noir groans as she rolls her eyes, the cat in her hands starts to squirm a bit reminding her of his presence.

“Well, I have to return this guy back to his owner… You wanna come with?” Adrian nods his head frantically, and starts marching over to one of the ladders.

”Let’s go!”

”Other way Vig.” Noir smirks as he quickly turns around on his heel.

”I knew that! I was just testing if you knew… Let's go!”

————————

The walk to Edna's house started with Adrian telling Noir that ‘she looked like one of those raccoons with its head stuck in a tin can’, ‘have you ever seen those really cute and funny videos of cats getting stuck in boxes?’, ‘pretty sure I saw a video of a hedgehog with a McDonald’s fry bag stuck on its head’ and probably every other variation of “animal being stuck” that he could think of.

Eventually he started telling her about Fargo. Noir had noticed when Adrian gets really into rambling about something he really likes he starts to curse like a sailor. Khaane counted 26 ’fucks’ in his 3 minute rant about how Martin Freeman is his favorite actor, but no matter how many times he curses, Noirs smile never faded from her face as she listened intently.

When they got to the building Edna lives in, she told Adrian to wait in the alleyway next to it. Edna might have a heart attack seeing him, and the less alive people that knew about them working together the better.

Noir knocks on the door a few times, adjusting the fluffy creature in her hands, as she waits she looks over to the alleyway Adrian is waiting in, and sees his head poking out watching her. She looks away but can't fight the toothy grin that ends up on her face.

Edna opens the door and Noir drops the grin quickly. The old lady laughs in relief as she takes the cat from her outstretched hands.

“Thank you Noir! I was so worried about my baby boy and look at him! Not a scratch on his fuzzy little head! My daughter will be delighted to know her favorite hero saved Mr. Munchkin’s.” Edna scratches at the cat's head as she speaks and has a warm smile on her face as she talks to Noir.

The ‘hero’ rubs the back of her neck awkwardly, the praise making her a little nervous. “You should probably get a collar for him in case this happens again, and think about getting him chipped, it would make things a lot easier next time around. Just to be safe.” She says, trying to avoid the whole hero argument.

Edna starts to go on about how she’ll think about it, and some weird conspiracy shit she read on Facebook one time about someone being able to control the cat from its chip. Noir interrupts her rant with an excuse about needing to help someone else. Edna thanks her again then shuts the door, Noir can hear her sternly telling off her cat from behind it, and walks off back to the alleyway where her friend is waiting.

Noir turns the corner and stops in shock at what she sees. Adrians hand is outstretched toward her, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. But what’s in his hand is what makes her do a double take.

He’s holding someone’s detached arm. From what she can tell it’s their left arm, the thick blood from the ‘incision’ is still leaking heavily. Adrian shifts his feet as Noir stares at the limb in shock, still trying to put the pieces together.

Adrian can see she’s struggling with her shock and speaks up, “I got you dinner! I remember you saying you were hungry when we left HQ… and someone was spray painting in the alley across from us so… Are you… not hungry?” His shoulders slightly fall as he realizes she might have ate already, but Noir shakes her head like a etch a sketch to clear her thoughts up.

“I’m… I'm still hungry… I didn’t get a chance to eat before the old lady asked for help so…” Adrian's entire body springs back to life and he shakes the arm at her excitedly. Noir lets out a breath of a laugh through her nose and grabs the arm from him. Adrian leans forward and starts to rock on his feet as he waits for her to bite, very obviously waiting to watch her eat.

Noir tries to ignore his watching eyes and sinks her teeth into the forearm and starts to drink from it. Her face softens as she indulges the pure energy it gives her as she continues. The blood high makes her hyper focus, an almost animalistic feeling washes over her as she gives into the ride. The arm starts to almost deflate from lack of liquids and eventually she lets go with a pop.

She wipes the excess blood from her lips with the back of her hand, and takes a glance at Adrian again with dilated pupils.

“Was it good? It didn’t have any drugs in it right? I asked him if he did any but he was so nervous that I couldn’t tell if he was lying. Also he said he didn’t know his blood type so— yeah…” He trails off as she starts to stare at the flesh and bone in her hand. A smile slowly creeps onto her face as she thinks about how he is way too thoughtful for his own good.

How could someone— anyone— treat her so nicely? Everything in her tells her that she doesn’t deserve it, that she will never be worth the work, but Adrian is always there somehow batting off those thoughts with a baseball bat in her head. He treats her like she’s everything, and she thinks of herself as if she’s nothing. He deserves something nice for his effort, a gift maybe? What would she even get him?

Noir shakes her head again, her blood high finally starting to lessen. She’ll figure something out for him, he deserves it. Her hand holding the arm starts to glow with a threatening black light, and the arm disintegrates into dust right in front of them.

Noir looks back at Adrian, his body language giving him away completely. He’s nervous, maybe about accidentally drugging her? Noir blows air through her nose and closes her eyes as she rubs her arm awkwardly. Slowly she walks over to him, and stiffly, but very very carefully wraps her arms around his waist and presses herself into him in an attempt at a hug. God she can’t even remember the last time she did this.

Adrian immediately wraps his arms around her in return, squeezing tightly as a content hum leaves him. Noir tips her head down below his chin, leaning on him subconsciously as she starts to melt into the embrace. Her eyes close as the dopamine starts to make her sleepy, her heart pounding as she inhales the scent of kevlar, mint, sweat, coffee, and a hint of dish washing soap. She can hear his heart beating just as fast as hers— god— she feels lightheaded from all the feelings running through her, but she needs to stay on task.

“Thank you Adrian, you’re a really good friend to me. Sorry… I’ve… never really been good at telling people how I feel but… you make me want to try.” Noir pushes her head against his chest a little bit more, taking all the warmth he was so effortlessly offering.

“You don’t have to keep those feelings locked up in your brain kitty, people are like Guinea pigs, they need friends for comfort— or something. I will always be here if you need my help or if you wanna talk, that will never change.” Adrian nuzzles his cheek into her hair affectionately. Noir squeezes him a little tighter as she takes in his words.

Eventually she reluctantly lets go, but does notice his arms linger just a smidge longer than necessary. Noir doesn’t have it in her to look at him, instead looking at the broken cement on the ground.

Adrian claps then rubs his hands together, “Wanna start Fargo at my place? I have popcorn.” He sings the last part as he tries to entice her into going. She looks up at him and smirks before she rolls her eyes then starts to walk out of the alleyway.

“Alright, let’s go then.” Adrian fist bumps the air and starts to jog up to we’re she walks, then ultimately asks,

“So… sleep over? Please?”

Noir lets out a chuckle, “I'll think about it.”

Notes:

— Lemme know what you think! I write a lot tbh but I never post it in fear of not finishing it, or just because it’s not entirely perfect but I’m taking a leap with this one! Also is this way too OC? I struggle with characters that don’t have a set story or power so… idk

— The dialogue about the Grand Canyon is from the Backyard podcast, definitely look them up on tiktok if you want a laugh

— I have so much backstory for Noir, and I have written a little of her story but it definitely needs tweaks but she has tons of potential if y’all like it!

— “I’d rather be alone than be with the wrong person” is from Death Note, also headcanon that Adrian has definitely watched it bc how could he not?

— I’m currently working on a x reader for Daredevil that’s coming along nicely, but this was stuck in my head

— Honestly there has been such a drought in Vigilante fic’s and I’m hoping when season 2 of peacemaker comes out there will be more (my calculations are that it will be done filming by the end of next month yes I did the math also editing should only take about 5 month hopefully don’t get me started how we’ve seen Peacemaker, Harcourt, Adebayo and John on set but no Adrian I’m terrified they changed his suit design or his character)

#adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #peacemaker #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase x you #vigilante #adrian chase #adrian chase x y/n #Adrian Chase x noir

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lvrtwn · 1 year ago

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venus if she was awesome

speedpaint and more thoughts under the cut

venus has always been one of my favorite characters, though i feel her design is pretty underwhelming with a lot of wasted potential. this is kind of a redesign, kind of my own personal headcannon, and kind of how i imagined venus in my head as a kid.

this is supposed to be my version of g1 venus, more similar in facial features and keeping the straight hair. i absolutely love her new hair and face in g3 but im hesitant to call the new outfit an improvement. both g1s outfit and g3s outfit are bad in their own ways. i dont want it to seem like im shitting on the new design. again i think the face sculpts, hair, and body types of g3 are so awesome. its great to see more diversity being included in the designs. i just decided to go with g1 venuses look because thats the venus i grew up with

i definitely took some inspiration from g3s outfit for this design. i like the idea of it but the execution is just not great, not to say her original outfit is any better. i feel like out of all of tge original monsters she was the one with the most waisted potential. i love her personality and the abilities she has but the way she was styled has always bothered me.

in the movies shes described as “eco-punk” which is SUCH a cool style to go with a plant monster character. i just feel like the “punk” in “eco-punk” was never really represented in her outfits. i personally love punk music and clothing; ive been an active member in my local diy scene for many years and i love seeing all the outfits people put together.

i thought i would give her an outfit that shows off a couple of my personal favorite staples of punk style. big chunky leather boots with lots of straps and buckles. kept the shoe mouths from the original because they cool as hell. lots of leather, studs, spikes. i gave her denim cutoff shorts inspired by her gen 3 outfit, same with the torn black top. punk style has a big focus on comfort, practicality, and making things yourself. i imagine she cut a pair of old pants into shorts, roughly cut her “undead kennedys”band shirt tank into a crop top, and probably repurposed the remaining fabric. i also totally didnt draw this whole thing as an excuse to use that pun. i included asymmetrical leg accessories, with one fishnet stocking and one torn up sock. i also feel like she repurposed these, continuing to wear her old torn up socks instead of just throwing them out. i gave her a big chunky studded belt matching one of her cuffs with a recycling symbol belt buckle. i feel like it communicates an important aspect of her personality just at a glance, plus i just love big belt buckles. lastly i added piercings because 1. theyre cool and 2. i for some reason remembered her having an eyebrow piercing but i guess she never had one.

i mostly kept her body and hair the same. changed her ears and hair color slightly but thats just personal preference. i decided to make the vines on her body look more like tattoos instead of being 3d. i imagine she can make them grow into real vines, but when shes not using her powers theyre just flat against her skin. gave her a facial expression that made her look a little more unhinged. she might only do things for the good of the earth but she can still mind control people at will.

i wish i leaned a little bit more into the plant theming but im overall still super happy with how this came out. maybe ill made more monster high redesigns in the future

#monster high #monster high gen 1 #monster high redesign #venus mcflytrap

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nethhiri · 6 months ago

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Slipping and Falling

Security Guard! Zoro x Mermaid! Reader

One Shot - Modern AU

Warnings: none

I'm really proud of this one and I think it's so stupidly cute <3

The only thing worse than a mall cop was a nighttime security guard, even worse: a nighttime security guard at an aquarium. Not even a museum. Zoro had been the daytime security guard until he dozed off one too many times, then he was demoted. His boss, Mihawk, said that if he couldn't wake up for the day shift, maybe he was more suited for the night shift. He didn't say it was a demotion, but Zoro wasn't an idiot. This was probably his last chance before they canned him.

He breezed through the doors, already 5 minutes late. He threw open the door to the small security office, apologizing and straightening his uniform. "Sorry. My stupid roommate baked my keys into a loaf of bread again."

"That's either the weakest excuse you've had yet, or your roommate hates you." King already had his jacket on, ready to leave.

"The second one. Please don't tell Mihawk I was late." Zoro threw down some rice balls and chips from the convenience store down the street, his snack for later.

King snatched one of the rice balls. "Deal."

"Oi!"

King gave him a peace sign and flicked him off.

Zoro let out an exasperated sigh. His shift had just started and it was already off to a terrible start. He plopped down in the shitty folding chair and threw his feet up on the flimsy desk, watching the small black and white monitors that overlooked the exhibits. Only a few couldn't be seen, one of them being the new mermaid exhibit. The tech guys hadn't come to install the camera yet. Which meant that Zoro had to walk the halls every so often, making sure everything was fine. If something happened to the mermaid, he would definitely be fired.

He grabbed his flashlight from his belt, which also had mace and a nightstick. What the hell was he gonna do with some weak-ass pepper spray and a glorified baton? He walked through the aquarium, shining his light around the places that weren't illuminated at night. He jumped when he saw two eyes reflecting back at him. The mermaid's exhibit wasn't lit at night either. She was basically a person, she needed to sleep too. He tapped on the glass.

You covered your ears and frowned. The noise was amplified through water and it hurt your sensitive eardrums.

"Oh shit. Sorry!" Zoro put his hands up to signal he meant no harm. "I didn't mean it." The mermaid swam up to the glass and mimicked his movements.

As far as he knew, it didn't talk. The mermaid did understand language though. He watched you copy him. Zoro did a few more poses to see if you would copy those too. He ended with making some kind of funny face, pulling his cheeks out and his lower eyelids down. Zoro was disappointed when you didn't copy that, and could swear you were laughing at him. Huh. He continued his rounds and returned to the office. The rest of the night was uneventful.

The next few nights were more of the same. Each night when he stopped by your tank, he tried to make you laugh again, mostly to prove to himself that's what you were actually doing. Even though you didn't talk, you were obviously an intelligent creature. Tonight, he had a new game. Zoro wanted to see how smart you were. He also felt bad that you were stuck in that tank without anything to do and maybe this would be entertaining. He took three Solo cups and set them upside down on a cardboard box he brought over. Then, he showed you a piece of candy and put it under the cup. Zoro mixed up the cups slowly.

"Where is it?" Zoro watched as you pointed right away to where it was. "Nice. Ok." He grabbed the candy and backed away from the tank. It was nearly floor to ceiling. It was huge. There was a gap at the top where people went in and out to perform tank maintenance. Zoro aimed for the top and threw the candy into the tank, observing as it sank down and you swam to grab it. He laughed when you put it in your mouth and spit it out. "That's a sour one. Give it a chance." He laughed again as your face contorted with the sourness, relaxing a little as it got sweeter. You pointed at the cups. "So you liked that? Let's try faster." He went a few more rounds, giving you candy every time. Then, you disappeared, returning with three shells. You plucked a scale from your tail and stuck it to the bottom of one of the shells. You repeated his actions and looked at him expectantly. Zoro pointed at one of the shells and you turned it over, revealing no scale. "I meant that one." He pointed to the shell next to it and you flipped it. You grinned and took the scale out from under it, swimming to the top of the tank and leaning over the glass above him. Zoro caught the scale and looked at it in his hand. It was iridescent. He couldn't really say if it was blue or green or purple. It was kind of all three at once. “Thanks. I have to go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow, ok?” Zoro flipped the scale over in his hand, watching the colors melt together as he patrolled the corridors. He wondered what else he could entertain you with. You seemed to enjoy it a great deal. He wondered if you responded like this to any of the keepers or the guests of the aquarium.

Unfortunately, Zoro had to call out sick the next two days, some kind of stomach bug. The next time he came around to your tank, you were nowhere to be found. He was tempted to tap on the glass again, but he knew you didn’t like that. Instead, he threw some candy in, the kind he knew you liked. Zoro waited for several minutes, opening a bag of chips that he had brought with him and popping a handful into his mouth. You emerged, drawn out by the candy, after a few minutes, darting out to grab it and go back to your hiding spot.

”Oi! Where ya goin?” Zoro yelled through a mouthful of chips.

You shot him a look from around the rock you hid behind.

“What?!” Zoro was at a loss. “Did I do something?”

You pointed at him, then to where he stood, then behind you.

It took him a minute to remember, but he did. “You’re mad because I wasn’t here?”

You gave him a curt nod.

“Aw man I’m sorry. I did say I would be back, huh?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I was sick. I couldn’t come to work.”

You stayed in your spot, eating the candy.

”How can I make it up to you?” Zoro would hate to piss off the only company he had during these long nights. You coyly peeked around the corner and pointed to the chips in his hand.

“These?” Zoro held the bag out and you nodded. He couldn’t very well toss those to you. They would get soggy. He walked up the ‘employee only’ spiral staircase that went to the top of your tank. He didn’t like being up that high so he focused on looking into the water and not at the ground.

You swam up to the rim of the tank, hands grabbing for the chips.

”Okay. Okay. You have to eat them here though or they’ll get mushy.” He handed the bag over.

You carefully inspected the chip before biting into it, delighted by the crunch.

Zoro hadn’t been this close to you previously. He noticed the different tones in your hair, how it flowed around you. He saw the slightly different colored speckles in your Y/E/C eyes. Your skin looked so soft and there were freckles he hadn’t noticed from behind the glass. There was a slight grin on his face as he watched you enjoy chips for the first time. You were particularly fascinated by the crunch, biting them slowly to listen to the noise they made. Zoro sat with you and took the empty bag when you were done. “So am I forgiven?”

You looked him up and down before nodding slowly.

Zoro smiled. “Good. How about I come back with more tomorrow? Really this time.”

This time he kept his promise. Each day he brought you a new flavor. He figured out you didn’t really care for the spicy ones, probably because spice was a bit foreign to you, also explaining why human snacks were so intriguing. Maybe you would like the spice eventually. He would find you waiting at the top of the tank for your special treat. It was weird to watch you eat in silence, so he would tell you about his day or his roommate. Occasionally, he would tell you something about himself. You were a great listener since you didn’t talk.

Several weeks passed like this. Zoro had to take a brief vacation to help his other roommate recover from eye surgery; there was a tragic accident involving a stag beetle. When he came back, Mihawk was none too pleased. King had taken over Zoro’s shift, but kept falling asleep since he was usually a day shifter. Every morning during this time, Mihawk would come in to take over and find that the snack counter had been raided. It looked like raccoons had gotten into the packages. Curiously, the cameras hadn’t picked up anything. They moved periodically, panning around. It seemed like whatever or whoever was stealing, could avoid them. Nothing else was tampered with or taken. “Hey, shitbag. Hope you get the rat problem under control. Or Mihawk is gonna have your ass,” King slapped Zoro’s shoulder on the way out.

“How is this my problem?! It happened on your watch!”

”And now it’s your watch.” King laughed as the door shut behind him.

Zoro stopped at your tank, as was his routine now, and explained he didn’t have anything for you since he couldn’t get to the grocery store to restock. His eyes couldn’t be torn away from the disappointed pout that crossed your features. He was a bit ashamed to admit he really liked looking at your face. He wasn’t alone. Part of the attraction to the mermaid exhibit was your beauty. He didn’t like the idea he was the same as the people who paid to ogle you. He actually cared about your well-being.

That night the thief struck again. Zoro didn’t see a thing. Oh, but he heard about it the next day. Mihawk lit his ass up, calling him as soon as he managed to fall asleep at home after his shift. He accused Zoro of falling asleep on the job again. That wasn't true, but it's possible that he was distracted, daydreaming perhaps. He would have conversations in his head with you. He imagined what you might sound like and how you might speak. He liked spending time with you and he wanted to know more about you, but couldn't do that if there was no way you could communicate with him.

Zoro purposefully waited for King to leave before going in the back entrance. King would definitely taunt him over his shortcomings and he really didn't want to start the night that way. He was already in a bad mood since Mihawk woke him up just to yell at him earlier. Zoro sat heavily in his uncomfortable folding metal chair and slid down, knees pointing to opposite corners of the room, glaring at the monitors. He wasn't going to take his eyes off the screens for a second. He would get to the bottom of this just to rub it in Mihawk and King's faces that he could.

When it came time for his nightly rounds, he checked every door and every window to make sure they were all locked. There wasn't any evidence around them that pointed to someone coming in from those potential entry points. He looked up at the air conditioning ducts. Is someone really going to go all spy movie just for some snacks? There was a noise in the direction of your tank that alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone. Quickly, he ran in that direction, putting his flashlight in his mouth so he could hold his baton in one hand and his mace in the other. The large, open room came into view and he caught movement in the corner of his eye. Before he could react, he suddenly lost traction under his feet and was tumbling backwards. The last thing he remembered was hitting his head.

His head was throbbing. Zoro groaned as he came to. Why am I wet? His entire back was wet, not damp, wet. He opened his eyes to soft light and a blurry, dark shape hovering over him. He blinked a few times, each blink making his vision clearer. A person? But there's not supposed- He pushed himself back, feeling around for his mace.

"Who- Who are you?" He made contact with his flashlight and flicked it on, pointing it in the direction of the shadow. Red eyes flashed back as the light from the flashlight bounced off the back of your eyes, reflected to him. His eyes slid from yours, down your body, and landed on your tail. "Mermaid?" What was she doing out of the tank?

You scooted closer, using your arms to pull you across the slick floor.

Zoro looked at the water all over the floor and back at you. Your hair was plastered to your body where it was still wet, but he could see some parts that were fluffier and strands that were blown around lightly by the air conditioning. That made him think you had been sitting here with him for longer than a few minutes. How long had he been out for? He looked at the ceiling, which was partially made of glass, so that the mermaid could have natural light. The sky outside was the dusty purple color of early dawn. His shift would be over soon. And King would be coming to take over. King is coming! Suddenly, he was panicking.

"We have to get you back in the water!" If King saw the mermaid like this, Zoro's ass was going to get canned. Zoro crouched in front of you, about to slip his arms under you so that he could carry you back to the water. He paused. "Oh... Um. Is it ok? Do you mind if I...?"

You opened your arms up to reach for him.

He took that as an invitation, scooping you up bridal style. Your arms wrapped around his neck for support. Zoro didn't want to slip again, but he had to hurry to get you in the tank and all of the mess cleaned up before King got here. He jogged up the stairs to the top of the tank and gently dipped you down in the water. "Stay." He had no fucking clue how you got out, but he needed you to stay in. He zipped back down the stairs and hurriedly grabbed a mop from the janitorial closet, getting all the water dried from the floor. Zoro ran around the rest of the aquarium, making sure nothing happened while he was knocked out. Everything seemed to be fine.

Zoro had just headed back to the security office when King came in to take over the shift. Just in time. He breathed a sigh of relief and then immediately started thinking about how the fuck you got down to where he was. Did you jump out of the tank? Crawl down the stairs? He was thinking about it until he went to sleep for the day.

He came in early the next evening. The aquarium was still open and he went to see what your exhibit looked like when it was still open. The tank was big, but he wasn't quite convinced it was big enough for a creature like yourself. He watched as some guy banged on the glass with his hand. Zoro instantly frowned, knowing that you hated when people did that. He walked over and grabbed the man's wrist, pulling it away from the glass and thrusting it into the man's own chest.

"Stop that." Zoro glared at the man. "She doesn't like that."

The man looked him up and down. "Who the fuck are you? Her keeper?"

"Actually, yeah. I am. So cut it out or you'll be escorted out."

The man grumbled but didn't do it again.

Zoro stood in front of the glass, eyes searching for you for a moment, finding you with a sweet smile on your face. You made the slightest nod in his direction, thanking him for putting an end to the horrible noise. Zoro stuck around until the people cleared out, making sure it didn't happen again. The last two people were a couple, who couldn't be bothered to stop their heavy petting after the two minute closing warning. You were staring curiously at them. He shooed them off and waved at you as he went to clock in and trade off with King.

There was some paperwork he had to take care of which delayed his usual stroll to your tank. It was about an hour past his usual stop in his loop. As he approached, he could hear shuffling and some crinkling. It stopped suddenly when his shoes make a squeak on the tile flooring. He cursed under his breath, inching forward slowly. There was the hurried sound of crunching followed by the slap of feet against the floor.

"Stop! Thief!" Zoro yelled after the footsteps, nearly eating shit on the wet floor again. "Where the fuck is all this water coming from?" He ran down the hallway, then back up the hallway, then did a full loop, and stopped. He didn't hear the footsteps anymore. "Dammit." He snuck around more quietly on his way to get a mop. The thief had to be somewhere. He cleaned up the mess without any further sign of the intruder. Curiously, the snacks that were eaten included some of the flavors of chips he had brought you. That just meant the thief had good taste in snacks. Only two bags were eaten, so he wasn't worried about actually continuing his hunt. He could cover that up. Mihawk could shove it. All he cared about was getting to your tank. Zoro sighed. Now, he was really late. You were going to be mad at him.

As it turned out, you weren't. Especially since Zoro had brought you something new to try. He was beginning to feel guilty. What if these foods were really bad for you? What if they made you sick? He also couldn't resist seeing the way you lit up when he came around with your nightly snack, or your pout when he pretended he forgot it, so he would continue to spoil you. Zoro climbed to his spot at the rim of the tank. You were already there waiting with your hands held out in a bowl-shape.

"Didn't we talk about begging?" Zoro tsked at you.

You held your hands out more demandingly and furrowed your eyebrows.

"Jeez. Okay, here you go." Zoro placed some incredibly misshapen small chocolate chip cookies in your hands.

You gave them a curious sniff before putting all of them in your mouth at once, filling up your cheeks.

Zoro chuckled. "You remind me of my roommate, who I had to fight off by the way, to get these to you." He averted his eyes for a moment and his cheeks turned pink. "I, um, made them myself." At the cost of shining his other roommate's work shoes for a week, he helped Zoro out with the baking. When he turned back, you were holding your hands out again and licking the crumbs from around your mouth. He grinned. "So you liked them?"

You nodded. Reaching your hands out further. As he leaned down to put more in your hand, you caught sight of the pink in his cheeks. Reaching out curiously, you poked and pinched at his cheek. You didn't know humans could change color.

Zoro jerked back. Not that he was afraid of you, he was just taken aback by your sudden interest in something other than food. "What? Is something on my face?" He only turned a deeper hue, cheeks burning red.

You placed your palm against his cheek, feeling the warmth in it. Humans were a lot warmer than you thought. With the other hand, you continued to munch down cookies. You offered the last one back to him, noticing that he didn't eat any.

Zoro wasn't aware that you knew the concept of sharing. "Thanks." He popped it into his mouth, stretching to swat a crumb out of your hair.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, just like those people from earlier.

He pushed you, very gently, back. "Whoa! Hey, what are you doing?" If Zoro's cheeks were red earlier, now they were purple. "That's for- That's just for people who um-" He saw a hurt look on your face. "No, don't do that. It's okay!" He patted your hand and explained. "You can't just do that. That's called a k-kiss and um, it's for two people that really like each other."

But you did like him. Did he not like you?

You still looked hurt. "Um, here, okay." Zoro knelt by the tank, getting his knees wet from where you had dripped. He held his arms out and waited until you copied him. "We're friends. So this is what friends can do. It's called a hug." He circled his arms around you, very lightly squeezing. You did it back, except you were not very gentle about it. "Oh, wow, you're a strong one huh?" Zoro let go, waiting for you to do the same. He waited some more. "You can let go now." There was a funny look in your eyes, and your smile was awfully sinister for a sweet mermaid.

You pushed back from the edge of the tank, dangling his car keys in front of you.

Zoro felt his back pocket. "What the-?" He laughed. "You little shit." He motioned for you to come back. "Give those back!"

You shook your head.

"Please!"

You looked at him expectantly.

"I'll bring you more cookies tomorrow?"

You threw his keys back to him with surprising accuracy and he caught them in midair.

Zoro shook his head to himself, walking back to the security office. He couldn't stop thinking about how soft your lips were.

For the next few days, nothing eventful happened. Zoro had racked up multiple weeks of doing Sandi's chores, just so he could learn to make a few more different cookies for you to try. Why was he doing all this? He told himself it was because he felt bad that you were trapped in a tank for the rest of your life. And he did feel bad about that, that part was true. Selfishly, he wanted you to like him. Tonight's batch hadn't gone well. He wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to you. Zoro hated seeing disappointment on your face.

He was shocked when you were nonchalant about it, and a touch suspicious. Later, Zoro remembered that he stored an extra snack in his backpack and retrieved it to give to you. Again, he heard the telltale crinkling of a chip bag. This time, he would get the thief. Zoro must have startled them somehow even though he didn't make a sound because the thief took off running. He kept up this time, barely making out a shadow in the dark. As soon as he got close enough, he tackled the person, fingers brushing against bare, wet skin. What's with everything always being fucking wet!?.This person was... nude? What kind of sick pervert-? His thoughts were evaporated from his mind when he saw that it wasn't just any random naked person. It was you. "MERMAID?!" He looked down. "But there's legs and- a-and-!!!" Zoro got up faster than he'd ever moved and covered his eyes. "S-stay right there." He turned around and ran to his backpack, where he had a change of clothes for the gym.

Zoro came back with a T-shirt and boxers, practically throwing them at you. From the top of his head to his neck was red. It turned out that your bottom half could turn into a human's, in every way. Funny, when you had a tail, your naked top half, covered by your long hair, didn't seem scandalous. With a naked bottom half, the naked top half was painfully obvious.

"A-are you covered up?" Zoro peeked to make sure before dropping the hand over his eyes. "I'm so sorry for- for seeing and um... Sorry!" He felt bad about tackling you even though you weren't hurt. He offered you a hand to get up. Now it made sense. Every time he forgot a treat or was late in getting to you, the thief struck. It had been you all along. And the legs explained how you were able to get out of the tank, too.

You were wobbly upon standing, as you always were when you got your legs. You grabbed his shirt for balance as you stumbled unsteadily forward.

Zoro gave you his arm to hold while you slowly gained control of your legs. He tried not to think about how cute you looked wearing his clothes, leading you toward the fish tunnels, where there weren't cameras. "I think you already understand, but you can never let anyone else see you like this, okay?" There was concern in his eyes. Zoro was certain they would turn you into an even bigger sideshow attraction than they already had. "And you have to stop stealing food or I'll be fired." Zoro held out the chocolate bar he had found in his backpack, yanking it back when you reached for it. "Mermaid, show me you understand." Zoro only relinquished the candy when you nodded.

Tearing into the packaging, you discarded it on the floor, holding the chocolate in your bare hands.

"Oi! You're gonna get it everywhere." It was too late, as he saw the brown staining your hands. He sighed. "Never mind."

You laughed at his alarm.

"So you think it's funny, huh?"

You nodded, popping another piece into your mouth. Your hand reached playfully to smear some on his cheek.

"Don't do that!"

You giggled again.

He really couldn't be mad when your eyes were glittering with joy and your giggling brought a stupid grin to his face. He wiped off the chocolate and licked his finger.

After the last bite, you looked at the mess on your hands and wiped them on your shirt, to Zoro's horror.

"Oi! What's wrong with you?! Quit that!" He grabbed your hands. "What are you? An animal?" He dragged you to the bathroom to wash your hands.

You thought about it and nodded.

"No! You're a person." Zoro stood behind you and guided your hands. It made sense that you had never washed your hands before.

Watching the water made you thirsty. You bent down to drink out of the sink.

Zoro practically jumped backwards when your hips moved back against his. "H-hey. We'll get you some water. Come on." He knew you were unaware of what you were doing. It wasn't on purpose. He was ashamed at the thoughts that entered his brain at that second. Pushing them away, he grabbed your hand again and brought you to the water fountain, where he demonstrated how to use it.

After that, he followed you as you walked through the nearby exhibits, the ones without surveillance. Zoro watched as you excitedly pointed towards some fish. You stopped in front of one of the larger tanks, putting your hands against the glass and smushing your face against it. This tank was much larger than yours because it held whale sharks. Your smile slowly fell into something more somber as you yearned to go back home. You missed the wide open ocean.

As dawn approached, Zoro led you back to your tank, gesturing for you to go back.

You shook your head.

"What do you mean no? You have to." Zoro hadn't seen you like this before. You weren't your normal perky, sweet self. "What's wrong?"

Your lip quivered. You pointed to the doors and yourself.

"You want to leave?"

You nodded.

Zoro scratched his head. "You can't leave. I- I wish I could help you."

Tears spilled over the rims of your eyes.

"Oh no. No. No. Don't do that." Zoro looked around as if there was someone else that could comfort you. Relenting, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him. "I'm sorry, mermaid. I really am." He felt you shake with sobs, gently sitting down with you on the floor. He ran his hand over your hair, thinking about how much of a loser he felt like. He let Mihawk and King walk all over him. Zoro hated this job. The only thing that made it tolerable was you. So why did he care so much about keeping it? Money and the ability to see you. He could find another job, but he couldn't find another you. "Mermaid, give me some time. I'll think of something. Okay?"

You pulled your head away from him, with a sliver of hope in your red-rimmed gaze. You nodded.

Zoro helped you out of his shirt, which you got stuck in trying to take off. He shut his eyes and turned around while you slid his boxers off and jumped back into the water. He squatted down and put his hand on your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. "Stay." He said it tenderly, but he meant it. Zoro couldn't have anyone else finding out about your secret.

Over the next few days, Zoro thought about how he could smuggle you out. If you disappeared and he never came back, it would be pretty obvious who stole you. If you disappeared, he would be fired anyway. He put that plan on the back burner and thought about how he might be able to improve your current living situation.

"Don't you think the mermaid should be in a bigger tank?"

Mihawk looked over his newspaper at Zoro. "Oh so you're a marine biologist all of the sudden." He was about to leave for the night but wanted to finish his articles first.

Zoro rolled his eyes. "No. I just think the mermaid looks kinda sad lately."

"You won't have to look at her sad face much longer."

"What? What's that mean?"

Mihawk lowered his paper once more. "Oh. You haven't heard? She's being transferred to a government facility."

"Why!?"

Zoro's boss eyed him suspiciously. "Why do you care? Have a crush?"

"Oi! Shut up, man. A guy can't feel bad for a creature that's nearly human being imprisoned? How would you like it?"

"I think if you feel bad for imprisoned creatures, this job isn't for you."

"Yeah you're fucking right about that." Zoro was heated.

Mihawk threw his paper on the desk. "Because you care so much, they want her for research." Before Mihawk clocked out, he tossed over his shoulder. "Say goodbye to your little fish friend. She's leaving tomorrow."

Zoro was sweating with this new information. Tomorrow! He hadn't come up with any kind of plan. Maybe he could ask Luffy and Sanji if they would help. No, he couldn't ask his roommates to be accomplices. He avoided you until the last remaining hour of his shift, unsure how to tell you what was happening. Seeing you cry again was going to break his heart. Hell, his heart was already breaking because he knew he had no way to save you. He couldn't break you out of here, and he certainly couldn't steal you from a government facility.

Zoro found you in your usual spot, waiting for him. You seemed to be in better spirits, which made it harder for him to tell you. He sat on the edge of your tank, setting his backpack down. He had planned to leave right after. "Listen." He let out a deep sigh. "I don't know how to tell you this but they're moving you out of here t-tomorrow." Your face brightened and you pointed to the door. He smiled apologetically. "No... not out out. You're being transferred somewhere else." He could see your eyes get glassy. You pointed to him, then yourself, then the door. "I- I can't. There's no way." Zoro held his head in his hands and apologizing over and over again.

You pushed yourself up to sit on the edge of the tank as well, wrapping your arms around him. The two of you sat like that for some time. Zoro ran his hand through your hair, trying to memorize the way it felt before he had to say goodbye. You leaned your head on his shoulder, staring into his gray eyes. He shifted so that you could face him better. Leaning forward, you paused, as if asking permission, and Zoro didn't stop you as you pressed your lips to his again. His hand tangled in your hair, pressing you deeper into the kiss. He let out a startled noise when you bit him on the lip and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as you broke the kiss and looked away bashfully.

"No. No. It's- It's okay." Zoro's voice was low and raspy. "Do it again."

You did as he asked, lightly biting him on the lip, and he returned the favor. You pressed your tongue into his mouth, running it alongside his own. He groaned. Now! When he was fully distracted, you tugged him into the water with you. His eyes widened in terror as you pushed him to the bottom of the tank, sucking the rest of the air out of his lungs. You broke the kiss and touched the side of his face lovingly, watching him flail as he fought to break free from your grip. You petted his hair as he had done to comfort you. Only a minute or two more before he became unconscious. It hurt you to do it, but you couldn't live like this anymore. You had waited for him, though that didn't mean you couldn't also think of a plan in case he failed.

When King came in, not long after, he immediately noticed something wasn't right. None of the lights were on. The power was out. He rushed to the emergency generator and powered it on. All the pumps to the tanks were connected to it in case something like this happened. Without the backup power, it would only take a few hours for creatures to start dying off. With it on, some of the lights flickered back on. The generator only powered the most important electronics, not the cameras. Naturally, the first thing King did was check on the most valuable assets. While his eyes scanned your tank, trying to find you, they instead found Zoro floating at the top of the water.

Within 15 minutes, the aquarium was swarming with first responders. In the chaos, no one noticed someone in a gym shirt and boxers run out the front doors, all their attention on Zoro. Nor did they notice the drying puddle near the main circuit breakers, located unwisely next to the mermaid's tank.

Zoro had no fucking idea what happened. He thought it was just a nightmare until he woke up in a hospital. They said someone broke into the aquarium and stole the mermaid. They shorted out the main power so there was no security footage. It was assumed that Zoro was defending the mermaid when the attacker got the upper hand on him. Mihawk had left him a message wishing him a speedy recovery and to take his time coming back to work, in fact, maybe he shouldn't come back at all. He was cleared for discharge after a day with some antibiotics to prevent pneumonia from setting in.

When he came back to his apartment, Sanji greeted him from the kitchen. "Hey, assface. Your girlfriend has been waiting for you for a whole day now. What the fuck is wrong with you? Making a girl as pretty as her wait? I don't even know how you managed to pull someone like her." He was half-pouting as he said this.

"Girlfriend?" Zoro didn't have a girlfriend.

"Yeah she was in your clothes. She's your girlfriend isn't she? While you were busy laying your lazy ass in the hospital, she showed up looking for you. Well, I assumed so. She doesn't talk much."

Zoro didn't wait for the blonde man to finish before running into his room.

Luffy piped up from the couch, calling after him. "Tell her to quit eating all my snacks!"

When he opened his door, you were sitting in the middle of his bed, surrounded by empty snack wrappers. His previously white shirt, now on you, was covered in orange and brown snack residue fingerprints. Your entire face lit up upon seeing him. You jumped from the bed and ran to him, throwing your arms around him and peppering kisses all over his face.

"Oi!" He pushed you back lightly. In a quiet voice he hissed, "You drowned me!"

You nodded happily and bounced on the balls of your feet in an excited way. You pulled him back down and rubbed your nose against his.

The pieces gradually fell into place. "This was your plan." He grabbed your face as you nodded again. "I knew you were fucking smart." He pulled you in for a hug before kissing you.

You pulled away, grinning. You were hyperventilating with excitement and working up courage.

"Easy. Breathe. " Zoro could see you were trying to communicate something. "What is it?"

"S-s-s." You furrowed your brows.

Zoro's eyes widened. He didn't think you could speak.

"S-stay." You pointed to yourself, soft, hopeful eyes tilted towards the green-haired man. "Stay?"

A reassuring grin crept across his face. "Stay." He pulled you in for another hug, resting his chin on your head.

#one piece #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #mermaid #x reader #zoro x reader #oneshot #one shot #fanfic #fanfiction #Mermaid!reader #one piece AU #AU #mermaid AU #king the wildfire #hawkeye mihawk

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killualoverr · 5 months ago

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₊ ☆ ‧₊˚ → ann, makoto, futaba, and haru general relationship headcanons!

cw: fluff, slightest bit of angst if you squint

note: ahhjflslksdfglds i accidentally deleted this ask :( but anyways i was so excited when i saw this since it's my first request, i hope you enjoy ( ≧ᗜ≦)!!

- big on physical touch and words of affirmation.

- lots of cuddles, kisses, spooning, etc if you let her. she loves that type of intimacy.

- she doesn’t mind pda! if you’re okay with it, she would be pretty affectionate.

- would kiss you on the cheek as a greeting

- if you aren’t a fan of physical touch she'll be minimal with it or just stop all together.

- loves showing you off!!! a big part of her social media page would be her and you. if you don’t like being posted, she would have an album/folder full of pictures of you.

- if anyone says anything even remotely bad about you trust and believe she’s hitting that block button in the blink of an eye.

- appreciates any type of compliments, but compliments beyond her looks make her so insanely happy considering her looks are mostly what she’s usually noticed by.

- she absolutely loves to shower you in compliments too. makes her smile when she sees you get all shy

- if you post yourself on social media expect her to be flooding your comments hyping you up 😭

- absolutely loves doing your makeup/skincare and dressing you up!!!

- ryuji is TIRED of hearing her talk about you. someone save this boy

- “red? speaking of red, y/n-“ “ann. 🙁”

- dates with her consist of going out to dessert places, harajuku, the park, and going to the underground mall.

- makoto is very inexperienced with romance. at the start of your relationship she would pretty much leave most decisions up to you.

- after a bit of time of you guys being together and experimenting with things she learns what she likes and dislikes and sets boundaries about those things. she becomes a lot more comfortable in the relationship after that.

- not a very big fan of pda. she would rather being affectionate like that in a more private setting.

- she’s very easy to fluster! an unexpected hug or kiss and her brain short circuits. 😭😭

- her main love languages are words of affirmation and acts of service.

- makoto tends to overthink so ressurance would play a significant role in your relationship.

- she prefers to show affection in ways like checking up on you and such.

- you’re thirsty? she’s already getting out her water bottle. it’s hot and your hair is bothering you? she should have a hair tie somewhere…

- and so on. anything you need, she’s got it, and if she doesn’t, it’s her top priority to help you out somehow.

- your wellbeing is always on her mind

- she tends to keep to herself a lot, but she tries her best to be vulnerable around you.

- sae doesn’t mind you guys. probably just some playful teasing here and there.

- study dates are very frequent!! she likes them a lot because it allows her to spend time with you and also get things done.

- like makoto, futaba would also be very inexperienced with romance.

- her love languages are physical touch and quality time.

- being in the same room as you whether you’re watching a movie, on your phone, or just sitting in bed doing whatever in complete silence together, means a lot to her.

- if you guys ever go out she very often (if not always) is holding your hand. it makes her less anxious and brings her a sense of comfort.

- “excuse me, she asked for no pickles.” while futaba frantically nods behind you

- she’s a HUGE yapper; she could go on and on talking about a new volume of a manga she’s into, the newest episode of a show she likes, the most recent updates for a game she enjoys playing, etc.

- if you were also interested in the same things as her you guys would nerd out together.

- loves listening to you talk about things you like just as much as she enjoys ranting about her interests.

- would love having matching profile pictures of her favorite ships with you

- she’s the type to send you those slideshow videos that say “us?”

- most dates with her consist of just hanging out at each others houses playing a video game, watching shows together, things of that nature. if you were to do something outdoors you’d most likely be either at akihabara or asakusa.

- omg haru is such a sweetheart of a friend and even more as a your s/o.

- i can easily imagine her being affectionate in private. while she's a bit shy to initiate things at first she slowly gets more comfortable with it later on.

- that being said, she’d be a bit hesitant with pda due to her publicity

- a bit of all but i think her main love languages are quality time and gift giving.

- i feel like she’s big on gift giving because she's rich?? idk, she loves giving you stuff that reminds her of you or something that catches your eye while you guys are out together.

- she would give you flowers she grew herself too

- cuddling is a frequent activity in your relationship! adores playing your hair when you two cuddle, gently running her fingers through and complimenting it

- she’s an amazing listener! not only does she like listening to you talk about anything and everything, she also just enjoys hearing the sound of your voice.

- absolutely refuses to let you pay for anything 😭

- her favorite dates with you are anything involving gardening. if you're inexperienced she is more than happy to coach you and teach you anything and everything you need to know. haru would be open to pretty much anything though, she’s just happy she gets to spend time with you.

#persona 5 #persona 5 x reader #ann takamaki x reader #makoto nijima x reader #futaba sakura x reader #haru okumura x reader #persona x reader #ann takamaki #makoto niijima #haru okumura #futaba sakura #headcanons #fluff #persona headcanons #x reader #answered #killualoverr

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pharawee · 1 year ago

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I've been meaning to make a list of spooky (Thai - because negl that's 99% of what I watch) BL series and movies and what better time to post this than in October?

Spooky BL are my favourite flavour of BL. Turns out, there's actually a lot of them (maybe because Thailand does horror so well). These are only the ones I've watched (and enjoyed) so this list isn't complete.

*On another note: horror doesn't faze me at all so I can't really accurately say how scary some of these are. If you have squicks or triggers like jump scares, gore or bad endings please feel free to ask and I will do my best to give you a heads-up.

**This has been updated in October 2024 to include new shows and movies.

✨Spooky Thai BL✨

7 Days Before Valentine | This BL is a lot more introspective and heavy than other BLs on this list. It's beautifully filmed and very dark, however, which makes it the perfect watch for a spooky October evening.

1000 Years Old | Was it really all that spooky? Probably not. But sometimes spooky is a quirky vampire with an umbrella for every occasion and his clueless alien-loving boyfriend.

🎞️After Sundown | A period ghost movie slash love story with ZeeNuNew. Make sure to watch the uncut version if you can find it because it adds additional context and atmosphere.

Dead Friend Forever | This show has its spooky moments but at its core it's more of a psychological thriller with a few slasher tropes on the side. If you're in the mood for some suspense and not put off by heavy themes then this is definitely one of the highlights on this list.

🎞️Death Is All Around | Saint Suppapong coming through with another spooky production - this one about death and the afterlife. It also has Seng Wichai, Bas Suradej and Dun Romchumpa (presumably as a couple) but has yet to be released internationally.

Dear Doctor I'm Coming For Soul | This one has reapers and ghosts and lots of bittersweetness. It's not that creepy since the supernatural elements are very matter-of-fact. It will make you cry though, sorry. :(

Ghost Host, Ghost House | Spooky with incredible chemistry between the leads and a cast of characters that you will immediately fall in love with.

He She It | A three-episode miniseries with a haunting soundtrack and a nice plot twist. This will make you miss JeffGameplay. :(

He's Coming To Me | Probably one of the first series everyone will think of. Not that spooky but a solid ghost (love) story with a murder mystery at its core.

Hidden Love | This is a budget show filmed under serious constraints during the worst of the covid pandemic. It's clichéd. It's over the top. But it's also got its charms. It comes with a tragic ghost (love) story that completely overshadows everything else with its many flashbacks and plot twists. If you manage to get over the camp. I warned you.

The Hidden Moon | The story of this BL is a lot better than its editing (it is after all by the same author as I Feel You Linger in the Air) but it's definitely worth the watch for its spooky vibes and the ongoing and very intriguing mystery of the ghost story.

Low Frequency | Not spooky at all, and a bit slow and empty at times, but it has ghosts (in a way) and a sweet enough couple.

Make a Wish | Unfortunately, this has never had an inter release. There's inofficial subs floating around on grey sites but as of yet the series hasn't been fully translated. Which is a pity because it's a cute show about angels and spirit possession and (some) murder mystery.

Midnight Museum | I'm stubbornly putting this under BL. This show has everything and everyone. It's genuinely spooky at times but mostly draws on folklore, the mystical and an absolutely stellar cast.

OMG! Vampire | Well, it has vampires - which by definition should make it spooky but actually it's neither spooky nor particularly good - unless you miss LongFrank (which is a valid excuse).

🎞️Red Wine in the Dark Night | The oldest entry in this list. Admittedly, not very spooky (and instead rather surreal and sad), but it has one (1) vampire and Fluke Natouch in a role that's more grounded than we're used to nowadays.

Something in my Room | A spooky show with ghosts, mystery and romance that hides a lot of commentary behind metaphors and allegory. Criminally underrated because it didn't have a wide enough release. If you want to binge something fun and spooky for Halloween then this is the series to go for. Prepare tissues.

The Spell | A vertically filmed indie horror BL that was recently recommended to me. It comes with a serious SA warning so be aware of that if you decide to give it a try.

The Whisperer | Whatever happened here, it's not worth it. It could have been (maybe) if the production company didn't hold the last episode hostage until this day, but without a finale to maybe redeem some of the characters it's really not worth the watch unless you like the actors.

✨Not spooky but we're here for the vibe! ✨

4 Minutes | This show has mystery, style and time loops. So many time loops. Bring a whiteboard and marker for theories.

Every You, Every Me | This show is only just releasing in October 2024 but will apparently heavily lean into the fated soulmates and parallel realities trope.

Century of Love | Another gorgeous and suspenseful high-budget show about soulmates with plenty of fantasy tropes to choose from.

I Feel You Linger in the Air | Everything about this show is simply beautiful. It comes with a few supernatural elements that draw heavily on atmosphere and cinematography - but make sure to keep some tissues ready.

I Saw You in My Dream | The vibe of this show is both cozy and mysterious so it's perfect for an October binge-watch.

La Pluie | La Pluie draws from its fantastic premise and then it just goes from there. It offers amazing character development and a deep-dive into what it actually means to be soulmates.

Lover Merman | Exactly what it says in the title. Sadly it's not been released yet and it's currently MIA.

The Luminous Solution | Mysteries, a magical coffee shop, plot twists and a whole lot of confusion. Personally, I really liked it but it's definitely flawed.

Memory in the Letter | Time travel AND interdimensional mirrors. This is beautiful, almost like a fairy tale - if you can overlook the abrupt and slightly shocking ending.

On Cloud Nine | Short and beautiful. An indie production that's more ethereal than genuinely spooky.

The Sign | This show went all out. If you like crime mysteries, action sequences, fated lovers and folklore, then this is THE show for you.

Triage | A fantasy thriller set in Sammon's Manner of Death universe. No spooky vibes but plenty of suspense and an ongoing time loop.

Two Worlds | Parallel universes but make it gritty and grounded with plenty of angst and whump (and amazing love scenes). You're welcome. :)

✨Not a BL but hey, I know that actor!✨

Enigma | Win Metawin (and surprise guest!) in an incredibly well done 4-episode series about the occult with interesting worldbuilding and the promise of a second season.

🎞️Ghost Lab | Tor Thanapob and Ice Paris in a genuinely gruesome, shocking and scary horror movie. You've been warned.

Girl From Nowhere | One of the best things tv has to offer, and genuinely dark as well. Up Poompat, Pepo Nutchapan and James Teeradon feature in some of the loosely-connected episodes.

Haunted Universities 2 & 3 | James Teeradon (pt2) and Mark Siwat (pt3) in a horror anthology series set in and around campus.

🎞️Hoon Payon | Phuwin Tangsakyuen, Up Poompat and Bank Nuttawat in a classic spiritual ghost story. More shocking than scary.

🎞️Inhuman Kiss | Oab Oabnithi and Great Sapol (sadly, not as a couple) in a sad and romantic take on a classic Thai legend.

🎞️Inhuman Kiss: The Last Breath | JJ Krissanapoom in a thematically loose continuation of the first movie.

Let's Fight Ghost | A Thai remake of a fun and somewhat spooky kdrama with spiritual themes. And Saint Suppapong.

Peaceful Property | The verdict's still out on whether this is or isn't a BL (as of October 2024 the show is still running) but it offers plenty of spooky vibes, a stellar gmmtv ensemble cast and, yes, some queer rep too.

🎞️Pee Nak 1, 2, 3 and 4 | I'm biased because I really like this movie series. It's spooky but in a fun way. It has queer characters (as comedic relief - but not in a degrading way) and can get surprisingly deep. Watch this if you want to see (baby!) Tar Atiwat grow up on screen (because he's in all four movies). The third movie rewards you with some surprisingly sweet MeanPlan that continues into the fourth movie.

🎞️Operation Undead | A proper historical zombie movie with Nonkul Chanon (and Boss Thawatchanin if you can spot him). This movie has yet to release internationally but once it does we're definitely in for a treat.

School Tales | A Thai horror anthology centred around students at various schools. This series has Fiat Patchata, Kay Lertsittichai, Pepo Nutchapan, Mark Siwat and, most prominently, Saint Suppapong and Chimon Wachirawit in well-paced 50-minute episodes.

Shadow | Personally, I love everything about this show and I'm still hoping against all hope that it'll get a second season. It has queer characters (without being a BL - which disappointed a lot of people due to the fact that it was advertised as such), amazing cinematography, storyteling and acting and more dark and spooky themes than I can count on both hands.

The Stranded | One of my favourite series ever. If you watched LOST then you know what to expect. This has 3 QL couples (Perth Tanapon & Mark Siwat, Win Pawin & Tanthai Tatchapol, Ticha Wongtipkanon & Chaleeda Gilbert) but don't expect any of them to get a happy ending. Sadly, this series ended on a cliffhanger and won't get a second season due to the lead actor's tragic passing and Nadao's dissolution.

The Tenant | This was marketed as a horror BL but there's nothing left of that in the actual trailer. It stars Pepo Nutchapan and Boss Pornpipat (House of Stars) alongside Tan Kittinan (Love Puzzle) and I can't wait to watch this once it's released internationally.

✨Upcoming Spooky BL✨

Happy Ending | The pilot trailer for this was full of opulent dark fantasy thriller vibes.

The Hell Guard | Chains of Heart but make it spooky. Oh, I am so excited for this!

Goddess Bless You From Death | A horror murder mystery with a familiar cast and amazing visuals.

I Love/Kill You | A psychological thriller that might have plenty of horror to go with it, from the same author as 7 Days Before Valentine.

Khemjira | Past lives and curses and dark folklore - if you go by the (very well-written) novel, this BL will have it all.

My Golden Blood | GMMTV does vampires, part 1. I hope this is every bit as glorious as the pilot trailer suggests.

My Imaginary Boyfriend | Based on another one of Pat Rangsimant's novels (my favourite, actually). This one is more grounded, and spooky in a more psychological sense.

Mystique in the Mirror | Another of Pat Rangsimant's novels (and psychological horror too by the looks of it). This one started filming in 2023 and since then... nothing. :(

The Red Envelope | A Thai remake of Marry My Dead Body starring PP Krit and Billkin Putthipong.

Revamp - The Undead Story | GMMTV does vampires, part 2 - but this was originally a BounPrem project (and it still is, rest assured) by Studio Wabi Sabi.

Spare Me Your Mercy | A dark crime thriller set in Sammon's Manner of Death universe with an amazing cast and a very prolific director.

Vamp | Very likely not a BL but with many familiar faces. And vampires. One can never have too many vampires (unless you're in Paris and it's just after WW2).

Zomvivor | The only zombie series on this list has entered pre-production and is slated to be released in 2024 (but hopefully before the end of the year). Will it have BL? I don't know, but it stars pretty much all of domundi's acting couples (and more).

#thai bl #thai drama #thai movie #bl series #bl movie #spooky bl #jane watches stuff #bl meta #idk what else to tag this #also this is not a complete list #if you have recommendations or additions please let me know 💜#i'm always on the lookout for more spookiness

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ilikekidsshows · 3 months ago

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Usually I like a character with a red flag, that's why my list of favorite characters is mostly villain or dark hero because there's something intriguing about that type of character. For some times I've been wondering why Marinette just turned me off despite having the personality trait that I usually like and reading your responses to your asks just make me realize why.

She just has no interesting background story to back her red flagness. ._.

It just like you said, Naofumi has a reason why he choose to abandoned his heart and compassion. And it's not just Naofumi. Most if not all the fallen hero or villain characters has something, a reason, why they become a villain or fallen hero. Marinette has none.

She's. Just. Being. Spoiled. Rotten.

Even as a hero she also has nothing that make her as interesting character, she's literally a normal girl with a normal life who happen to part time as a hero just because a magical jewel happened to appear on her room.

I've seen people said Adrien has no motivation to be a hero, but I'd say it's Marinette who has none. Because if she has motivation to be a hero then she won't be as passive as she is.

Also, lately I've seen news about some DEI companies hiring that happened overseas and of there's DEI hiring in miraculous, Marinette would definitely be it. Because there's nothing bout her that screamed a hero, she just doesn't has it in her. I mean this is a girl who would wither away in almost every little inconvenience possible, she doesn't have that conviction to be a hero or even protecting anyone. If your hero need external validation for every inconvenience then maybe they're not a hero and shouldn't be one.

---

Exactly. Also, just like a lot of people are saying, Marinette’s descent into villainy could be interesting if that was what the writers were intending to do. If the point was that Marinette’s past of being coddled, excused and validated at every turn has led her to consider others as nothing more than existing for her benefit, that could be interesting in how the story chooses to tackle and resolve that. But that’s very much not what is happening. We’re supposed to side with her or at least be ready to forgive her the instant her lip wobbles and she cries about what a terrible person she is again. We’re supposed to think she’s justified or just stressed out. All of our sympathy should go to her instead of her victims just because she is Marinette, the greatest Ladybug ever.

Shows with villain or fallen hero protagonists acknowledge that what their protagonist is doing is morally wrong, so they put effort into making that protagonist someone you want to root for in other ways. They make the villainy over the top and entertaining, they give the protagonist an understandable reason to act the way they do so that the viewer can get into their head, or they make the opposition of the protagonist even worse and therefore deserving of comeuppance. I very much enjoyed Death Note in my youth while fully realizing Light was a villain protagonist, because the story does all of these things at some point during the manga's run.

Episodes like ‘Derision’, ‘Adoration’ and ‘Confrontation’ make it seem like the writers were, on some level, aware of Marinette’s lack of rootability, but they couldn’t bring themselves to cause her enough hardships to bring her to the level of characters like Naofumi. Chloé traumatized Marinette a year before the show, but in a way that it doesn’t really affect her at all except to excuse the way she acts around Adrien. Chloé and Lila try to frame Marinette for theft but fail immediately. Chloé and Lila mess with everyone’s school forms and something that should be resolved with everyone in class complaining instead requires Marinette to break the law to “expose” Lila and Chloé, but even that was a single-episode plot.

Despite all these efforts, the problem of rootability still persists, however, in that, outside of these two very specific characters, everyone is constantly showering Marinette or Ladybug in adoration. She isn’t entitled to the things she claims she is, like Adrien, and she isn’t enough of an underdog to justify her stepping on others to get to what she wants. But she still does it. She only hangs out with her friends to order them around to help her accomplish her goals and she constantly requires emotional support from the people around her for her nonexistent or self-caused problems while offering none in return.

#dats chats #ml critical #ml salt

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thepoparena · 10 months ago

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Thoughts on "Quiet on Set"

I imagine, being one of Youtube’s “Nickelodeon Content Creators”, you want to know what I thought. QUIET ON SET, the new four-part documentary detailing inappropriate behavior and abuse on the set of Dan Schneider’s various Nickelodeon shows, starts off on its worst foot, with all the earmarks of trashy tabloid journalism. A couple of gossip journalists walk us through events and interject how you’re supposed to feel about them. There’s one moment where Leon Frierson, former ALL THAT cast member, talks about how uncomfortable some of the costuming made him, about how the noses on a nose-themed superhero costume has some unfortunate phallic resemblances, and then we cut to a writer from Buzzfeed going “and then the sneeze gag is basically a cum shot joke!” Frierson never says that. In a later episode, a similar comparison is made to a gag on ZOEY 101, but there it’s actress Alexa Nikolas making that connection from the workplace environment she had found herself in. It’s an authentic observation, where in the earlier example it was outsider sensationalization, playing to the “crusaders” on Twitter and Tiktok where the public side of Schneider drama has mostly lived over the past decade. They bring on Marc Summers, Nickelodeon elder statesman who had virtually no presence in this era of the channel, for all of twelve seconds so that he can watch a clip of a Schneider show and go “oh, wow, they aired that?”

You can imagine how the producers' eyes must have lit up when they learned that Brian Peck, former Nick dialogue coach and convicted sex offender, owned a John Wayne Gacy painting. I mean, yeah, that’s fucked up, but it has virtually nothing to do with anything. It is, however, a perfect “can you believe this” moment that can be clipped and shared on social media for shock value. It’s something that the documentary can ride as a viral moment.

QUIET ON SET was produced for Investigation Discovery, whose bread and butter is schlocky true crime documentaries. Shows like EVIL LIVES HERE and WHO THE (BLEEP) DID I MARRY. Not exactly tasteful television. The channel is owned by Warner Bros Discovery, and was simultaneously released on Max. Warner Bros Discovery owns Cartoon Network. The documentary puts emphasis on Nickelodeon being on the top of the children’s cable game, and often brings up the Disney Channel as Nick’s main competitor. At no point is Cartoon Network mentioned, because, well, nobody wants to say their competitor is doing better than them, and saying you’re doing better than Nickelodeon would defeat the documentary’s narrative. My point is that I do not believe QUIET ON SET comes from a genuine place. It’s cheap schlock shock documentary filmmaking that wants to attract the same crowd who watch serial killer shows for fun. However. It’s also a space where a lot of people who were hurt during this time at Nickelodeon have come forward to tell their stories, and that pretty much nullifies all the gross exploitation elements present in the early parts. When these people start speaking for themselves, the documentary has no choice but to let them speak, and its more garbage instincts fade away. By the time Drake Bell starts telling his story, the gossip journalists all but vanish until the end, and there’s a stronger sensitivity to everything. The topics raised are harrowing. Workplace discrimination, sexual harassment, child abuse, sexism on set, racism on set, and general mispractice paint a meaningful picture of the toxic environment Nickelodeon was allowing at this time. The stories told by AMANDA SHOW writers Christy Stratton and Jenny Kilgen are infuriating. And then the sexual assault of Drake Bell by Brian Peck. Not an easy watch. It shouldn’t be an easy watch. What a fucking awful thing. It’s heartbreaking to watch. The documentary handles it with an unexpected tact and evenhandedness. It doesn’t excuse Bell’s later behaviors, and it allows Schneider to come off as one of the few adults who handled the situation correctly, even if the rest of the documentary is largely against him. I wish this had been the tone of the entire piece. QUIET ON SET is an important document of a terrible entertainment workplace. It’s a shame they dumped a bunch of trash on top of it. It’s not an easy watch, but it’s one of those things that’s going to be referenced to a lot over the years, and I hope that the people who make children’s television were learn the right lessons from it.

#quiet on set #nickelodeon

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crimsonspectre · 2 months ago

Text

Belong

summary: You're Lewis teammate and biggest fan

Tags: LW x gn!OC

You can find this in AO3 too

Five months have passed since you’ve become Lewis’s teammate.

They say you should never meet your idol, but in your case, it’s been smooth sailing. Sure, maybe you’ve had some discussions over trivial legal - mostly - moves in racing, and how to forget the time you proclaimed yourself, in a drunken post maiden victory state, his biggest fan, with big sparkly eyes and one too many details, except for one. But so far, meeting your idol has been like meeting an old friend, someone you can picture from memory.

Time brought along Max’s birthday, and the break before the last three races gave the perfect excuse for an over the top party. You were under the impression that Lewis wouldn’t show up, as he was always somewhere else, thus your outfit choice proved incredibly treacherous when the first thing you saw after entering Max’s penthouse was your teammate’s profile. Perfect profile, by the way.

A moment to recolect, you tell yourself. He won’t notice, this doesn’t have to be a big deal. Shit, not even a deal at all. And it better not be, because he’s coming your way.

“You’re late, rookie”

“You should stop calling me rookie already, it’s been months”

“You’re always a rookie in my books” he answers, laughing. You sit next to him.

“I thought you were traveling” you sip your drink, trying to focus on the task at hand.

“You don’t fancy seeing me here?”

You push your weight agains him for a second before answering “Don’t be dumb. I do prefer you in the track were I can beat your ass, but this is nice for a chance”

“Ha! aren’t you cocky. You’re spending way too much time with me.”

------------------------------------

As the moon and drinks went on, your worries started to melt onto the air. There was no time to worry about anything in a place like this, with this incredible ambiance, as you were gossiping in a corner with Max. Two weeks apart came with lots of updates on the finest paddock news.

When Max laughs, moving a little, you caught those eyes. The ones immediatelty shifting to other serious matters. Maybe he was watching? Maybe you’re just very drunk.

Excusing yourself to get some air, you go to the backydard. Strange, no one’s here, with such beauty around to appreciate. So much to be overtaken by the memory of his eyes that seems as permanent as…

“Hey” you startle as a voice calls from behind.

“God, Lewis, you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

You move a little as his body ask for space to sit, while laughing it off.

“Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s nice to have a break like this”

He nods, “For sure it’s nice if you’re the birthday boy special person”

You look genuinely confused, and laugh equally as awkward.

“Oh no, I think you’re getting the wrong idea”

He shifts his tone, and his head tilts a litte. “Am I?”

“Uh… yeah, I mean, Max is my friend” you can feel your face growing hotter by the second. What even is this change of air?

He stands, and as subtle as he arrived, he put his hand on your nape. Just his fingerprints, soft as a feather. You can’t help but shiver.

“That’s fine” he breaks the silence, moving his hand in a pattern.

And it hits you. He saw it, didn’t he? You try to say something, buy the subtle touch apparently put you under a spell, compelled only to look at him.

He keeps tracing your tattoo, the one you promised to get if he won his seventh title, back when you were just his fan, and he was just your idol. A nice, delicate 44.

“That’s fine” he repeats, applying the smallest of pressure on the side of your neck “as long as you remember who you belong to.”

#f1 #f1 fanfic #lewis hamilton #f1 fic #f1 fandom #f1 one shot #lewis hamilton x oc #f1 x oc

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cyberdragoninfinity · 1 month ago

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it may be impossible to do, and if it is, dont worry about it, but i need to know your like. top 10/5/3 duel links themes, based on the music alone, ignoring the character its for

but if you cant separate them id still love to know which're your fave and why

OH YOU KNOW THIS GIRL'S GOT A TIER CHART FOR THIS EXACT PURPOSE

i actually originally made this back in may, so this was a great excuse to dig it back up and add all the characters/themes added since then <3 (and theres been some BANGERS)

but to get into the specifics lemme narrow my top 10's too hard to pick (WHY DOES ALL THE MUSIC IN THIS GAME SLAP LIKE HELL!!) so here's my top five instead, that a nice round number

First, Some Honorable Mentions: Z-ONE'S CRAZY KICKASS ANGELIC CHOIR THEME, Kalin's straight up heartpounding western movie theme; that weird opening warbly in Antinomy's theme; soulburner's insane Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Riverdance theme that would probably be in my number 6 spot i think.

anyway, The Real Favs!

#5: Supreme King Jaden's theme for that absolutely heartwrenching soulful opening guitar riff alone. It's just a really beautiful track to me; I usually like the guitar-heavy DL tracks a lot anyway but this is just one of the absolute best to me.

#4: GOTTA BE JACK ATLAS'S CRAZY EUROBEAT BANGER OF A THEME the first time i heard this track blow my tits clean off. It's so good. (and as an aside, while mostly trying to ignore The Characters Themselves tied to the themes for this list, I do love that Jack's theme invokes the techy dance eurobeat of his actual in-show battle theme. it's a cool detail!) Just an absolutely hype as hell song. It makes me feel like Reneta Bliss, Your Freestyle Dance Teacher

#3: A FRESH AND NEW AND 2024 ENTRY but Spectre's theme just goes fucking bonkers. The most "this sounds like something out of a toby fox game" type song in Duel Links hands down. It's weird and it's rhythm is so entrancing and then the beat drops and it's just like OH OK LET'S GET FUNKY WITH IT ALRIGHT. great song, really dig it.

#2: Absolutely Gong Strong's terminally underrated theme, start to finish it just goes hard as all hell. The military-march drums and horns combined with those very traditional Japanese flutes and strings has no damn right to work together as well as they do. It's a shame nobody even plays Gong in pvp so i NEVER GET TO HEAR THIS MASTERPIECE OF A SONG!!! >:(

AAAND MY #1 FAV DUEL LINKS THEME: hands down no contest it's Yugo's theme AND IM NOT JUST SAYING THAT BECAUSE I LOVE YUGO. THIS TRACK WAS BLASTING MY BRAIN IN HALF MONTHS BEFORE I EVEN TOUCHED ARC-V. just everything about it is absolutely fucking S-tier. That sick as hell chiptune opening, the techno dance beat that pops the fuck off, the crazy sweeping strings and horns and invocation of the yuboys' leitmotif, it is SO so fucking good, I could listen to it for hours.

#TY THIS WAS FUN TO THINK ABOUT dl's OST is genuinely so fantastic why did they do that. what did they put in those songs #ygo posting #asks #joevo #dana's little ygo funnies

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ferg0s · 2 months ago

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heyy! just wanna start off by saying that I love your works!!

ideas for short requests that you asked for:

finding out that their s/o:

- is hyper flexible

- is a horrible singer

- is a good cook

- can speak many languages

got these off the top of my head so feel free to do this for whatever fandom you’d like!! (these may be more like headcannons but ehh)

have a good day/night!

old habits die hard so im gonna be doing the GOM from knb :(

Aomine:

Aomines version of a perfect night was going to his favourite park and playing basketball until his feet melted into the concrete of the court. It was what kept his head clear, tired him out after a long day of feeling restless and gave him an excuse to impress his new girlfriend. He was like a child showing you how fast they can run, thinking that was the epitome of strength. He'd drag you out to the court, begging and pleading with the same phrase; 'only one game, i promise - ill get you ice cream after'. Which you had come to learn was a lie. You would be there until he had dunked on you at least 35 times.

Again, you found yourself acorss the court from him. He had decided to be gracious today and agreed to a half court game. Dribbling the ball in his hands, alternating it between his legs, he gave you a smirk. You had been getting better, due to the involuntary lessons you got by playing with him, and he had decided to get a little more serious with you in that regard.

"You sure?" He says, a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes and get ready to defend the ball from going into the net behind you. Bending your knees and putting out your hands - like he had taught you. "Shut up and move already-" you reply back.

He did tend to get carried away from time to time, apologizing by letting you get a point in after. Which is why your games mostly ended in ties. It was just natural for him to be competitive, and better than you. He moved forward, faster than you could react, his eyes mapping out a perfect set up for a shot. In the split second it took you to register what was happening, you panciked and moved without thinking, side stepping infrot of him - but he had already accounted for that. Any experienced player would know that getting so close would cause a collosion and a subsequent foul - but how could you know? It seemed to happen in slow motion, watching his body get closer to you as his elbow got closer and closer to your face. In a last ditch effort, you began to lower your head. He saw the same unfolding infront of him, not being able to stop the flow of his body mid move. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the feeling of your nose against the tip of his elbow, thinking of ways he would apologize to you afterwards. Did he even have enough money for that? What if he didnt? Whats the cheaptest item at that stupid hello kitty store you like? Fuck - none of them were cheap!

His body came to a hault, finally stopping. He began to frantically look around, trying to find where you had landed while ignoring the pain - wait, there was no pain. He waited for the pain to travel up his arm bone from the tip of his elbow, but nothing happened. Did you manage to back away in time, or was his tolerance for pain just that strong?

"Help me up!"

He looked down, his eyes meeting yours. It took a good minute of him looking at you to figure out what had happened. His eyes travelled down your face and to your legs - both of them in a perfect line spread out. You had done the splits last second to avoid being knocked over by him.

"Help me up, jackass!"

He puts the ball in one hand, resting it on his hip as he aside reached down to grab your hand, helping you stand back up. "Are you okay?" He asks. "Yeah-" you say as you bend down to dust off your pants, "I used to do gymnastics when i was a kid - guess i still had it in me," you chuckle as you straighen back up. He stares at you for a second as the words process in his mind, a smirk slolwy forming when the words finally set in.

"-yeah, thats so cute," he says, dejected and unamused, as you hold up another overpriced toy infornt of him. He should have known this would happen - you weren't the type to not call out his bullshit. He should have known better than to make that stupid comment after helping you up, now being forced to fund another trip to that stupid store as punishment.

_____________________

Midorima:

If his horoscope told him to travel to Egypt and open a stall in a bazaar, just so he would get his luck for the day, he would. Without question. You had learned to accept his little quirk very early on. Red brought bad luck today? You would walk 30 minutes with him becuase the bus seats had a hint of red in them. Red was goodluck today? You would spend an extra 30 minutes waiting for the next bus because that one had red stripes on the chairs. It was a never ending cycle of how your life could be more difficult than the previous day.

Todays horoscope? Avoid unpleasent sounds. Sometimes, the horoscopes worked in your favour. Making an impromptu date for you and him. His idea was to spend the day having a picnic a nearby park close to a zen garden, saying the gongs they chimed at every hour would bring goodluck. You suggested a karaoke bar, saying music was the opposite of unpleasent sounds.

"You're right-" he said, squinting his eyes as if he's made a scientific breakthough. You didn't need to tell him twice, before you could evern suggest a place to go, he had your hand and was dragging you out with him.

You saw it as a cute date with your boyfriend, whereas he was treating it like a life or death matter. He paid extra for the privacy booth, with better sound proofed walls which was away from the main area. "I do not need other people's voices giving me bad luck-" he stated as he took out the extra yen for the upgrade. Once he had paid, he rushed to get in the booth, trying to cover his ears as he walked past the other people singing, you following behind him, trying not to laugh at the sight.

"What should we put on?" You ask as you begin to shuffle through the cataloge of music. He shrugged. "Something pleasant," he replied, looking at the screen as he watched you go by each song. "Micheal Jackson-" He suddenly stated. You turn to him, confused as to why he picked Micheal Jackson of all people. "He's a virgo. Virgos and Cancer are supposeded to be very compatible today-" he stated, looking at you if that information was as obvious as the sky was blue. "okay-" you sigh, "Micheal Jackson it is-"

Though he told himself he wouldn't do it, he would often look at his and your sign compatibly of the day. Something he felt guilty about because he didn't want that to dictate his feelings towards you. For the most part, they were very compatible. Enough to where he stopped checking that section of the cataloge a majority of the time. But today he checked it - out of curiosity more than anything. He tried to ignore the words written today as he was walking with you to the karaoke bar. He figured that there was a double meaning to it, he hadn'r read in between the lines or maybe he had read the wrong one entirely.

He didn't want to belive that your sign would cause his sign a great deal of pain today as it was stated.

But as he sat in the booth, mic lowered in his lap, eyes glued on you as you passionately sang the lyrics that were displayed on the screen, he realized that the horoscope was right. It was like listening to nails on a chalkboard, a dying cat, a screaming baby and garbage disposal all at once. Oh god, it was horrible. And it seemed to get worse the more passionate you got. In his pursuit to get away from unpleasent noises, he had trapped himself with it. Paradoxical.

In that moment, as you sang the lyrics of 'Bad' by Micheal Jackson, repeating the phrase 'i'm bad', he resisted thr urge to say 'yes, you are'.

___________________

Kagami:

Despite his athletic abilities and accomplishments, Kagami belonged in the kitchen. With the 'kiss the cook' apron you had gotten him for his birthday that he adored, and a spatula in his hand. In another life, he would be cooking with the greats like Gordon Ramsey, but he was stuck being his dumb culinary gifted self. His love language was cooking - as shown by the meals he would make for you, and the weight you had gained.

"I don't want people to think I starve you," he had replied to your remark about your weight gain. When you tried to explain that you wanted to cut back , he looked at you terrified. "Is my cooking bad?" He asked worried, mentally trying to figure out where he had gone wrong and what he had to fix. Too much salt, too little maybe? He couldn't comprehend why you wouldn't want to eat what he made for you, not after all the hours he spent making a separate protion for you to your taste preferences. Less spice, more spice, more sugar - you name it. You wanted vegetarian? He would make the same dish, but a separate vegetarian verison for you.

So when he had walked in on you in the kicthen after he came back from practice, he was surprised to see you wearing his apron, eyes glued to one of hs recipe books as you mumbled the ingredients and steps written in it. He put his gear down and walked towards you. "What are you doing?" He asked. You look up, not realizing that he had come back. "Oh-" you had the look of a child getting caught doing something they weren't supposed to. "Nothing - i just wanted to make dinner tonight," you smile, "My treat tonight - you told me how hard practice has been getting so I wanted you to rest,"

Kagami had always been the one to cook, especially after practice, it was his way of winding down. It was his therpay. He tried to think of the last time you had cooked... realzing you had never. You usually were his assistant anytime you were in the kicthen. Always just chopping whatever he needed or getting whatever utensil he needed at the moment. As much as he wanted to tell you he had been thinking about the new roast beef recipe he saw online all pratice, he sighed, giving you a smile. "I'd love that-" he said, trying to hide hwo his heart fluttred at the thought of you doing something like this for him. He was used to being the one cooking, to be cooked for had his stomach doing flips.

But the once cute thought of you moving around the kitchen making something for him turned sour when he saw you actually cooking. He was a very by the books person, measuring everything down to a tee, using proper measureing tools to do so. He was sitting on the kicthen island, ready to step in when you needed help - but at that moment he was trying his hardest not to jump up and hand you a measuring spoon.

"How much is a 1/2 cups?" You ask as you glance up from the cooking book and to him. "Half a cup... from the measuring cup," he replied. But his answer fell on deaf ears as you grabbed the carten of heavy cream and began to pour it directly into the pot. Stopping to examine the amount, and adding a bit more. 2 teaspoons of salt, you just began to haphazardly put salt in, testing some of the pasta sause on a spoon, before adding more.

"Are you following the recipe?" he asked, trying not to sounc condecending as he forced a smile on his face. "Of course-" You scoff as you stir the pot. It seemed like you were taking the recipe as a suggestion more than a step by step instruction on how to make teh dish. Making up your own protions, not even bothering to step near the drawer with the measuing tools. He wouldn't admit it, but he had a micromanaging problem. Especially when it came to cooking. He would turn into a back seat driver, only for cooking, when someone else even thought about stepping near a heated surface. In an attempt to control himself as to not break your heart, he excused himself to go take a shower. Hoping that the nightmare would be over by the time he came out, preparing himself to put on a fake smile and eat all of what you had made, hoping there were leftovers in the fridge from the night before.

Sitting at the dinning table, he watched you bring in the plate of creamy garlic pasta. One of his favourite dishes. It smelled good, but most pasta was deceiving when it came to smell. The presentation was good. You sit down acorss from him, waiting for him to take a biite. He looked at the food, trying to mentally prepare his stomach for whatever concoction you had made him. He grabbed the fork, taking a hefty amount -only to make you happy - lifting it up and giving you a smile. "Bon appetite," He said, his voice a little uncertain. He looked at the food again, bringing it to his mouth, closing his eyes to brace himself for the taste. He put the fork in his mouth, not knowing what to expect.

"Oh my god-" he said, his eyes wide as he chewed the pasta. He looked shocked, as if he hadn't expected the taste. You stiffen up, a look of worry washing over your face. "Is it bad?" You frown. He looked at you, still chewing. "This is fucking delicious!" He said, mouth still full as he chewed.

And it had been. Better than his own. He didn't realize how hungry he was until he had swallowed the first bite. It was perfect, the perfect balance of all the flavours. He practically inhaled the entire pot you had made, leaving none for you.

It had taken him years to perfect his craft, years of failed and disgusting dinners in order to get him to where he was. But he figured some people were born with it. The way you would just measure with a glance, judge based off taste alone, and never doubted yourself when you carelessly added spices. Using the recipe books as a friendly suggestion while he read it like the gospel.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a littlr jealous of your talent.

_______________________

Kise:

Given his job, he travelled a lot. He prided himself in the fact that he had visisted so many countries, often bragging that he had picked up on some of the languages, self proclaming himself as a polyglot. Often showing off the minor phrases he had learned from the various countires he had visited. He knew it added to his charm, a good looking man such as himself complimenting a girl in a varity of languages.

Though his pronunciation was terrible, and the words he said often didn't grammatical make sense in that language, no one corrected him on the account that they didnt know the language and didnt know what the fuck he was saying. And he took every opportunity to show off his talent - if you could call it that.

Arriving in Dubai for a shoot, with you next to him, he knew this was the perfect opportunity to not only spoil you but to also woo you off your feet with his arabic. Though most of the people you two encountred spoke to you in english, he still used every opportunity to sneak in a little arabic in the conversation. Earning a polite nod from the person he was talking to, who was trying to figure out what he had just said, but he was too engrossed in his act to notice that.

He tried to steady himself as he stood barefoot in the sand, trying to hold the reign of the horse next to him, but the sweat forming in his hand made the leather slippery. They had been out in the sun for hours, and the ecessive clothes he had on did not help. He had hoped that they would have atleast put him something topless. The horse next to him neighed loudly, trying to move, making him break his pose. The photographer yelled for a break, instructing the horses caretaker to calm it down, giving them a few minutes rest. You walk up to him, with a small towel in hand. "You look good-" you say as you hold it out for him. He takes the towel and wipes his hands. "Its hot as hell-" he groaned. "I think I might faint fron dehydration-" and it was true. Though the clothes didnt show it, he had been sweating like crazy from standing in the sun for so long. He looks around, hoping to find someone to ask for some water. One of the assistants walk past him, holding a bottle of water. He turned to you. "Can you get me a water, please?" he asked. You look over to the man he was looking at, noticing the bottle aswell. "I don't know where they put them-" "Its okay-" he smiled. Time to impress you, once again.

He called out to the man in broken arabic. The man only looking because he heard him speak. Kise began to - try to anyways - ask him for a bottle of water. His pronunciation sounding better in his head. But he got the message across.

"water-" was the only semi coherent thing he was saying.

The man, after listening to him repeat this sentence a few times, replued back, asking if he wanted water. But it confused kise, it didn't sound like the arabic he was used to. The little arabic he did understand. He was about to just flat out ask in english, until you spoke up.

"Can you bring us two waters please?"

The man nodded, walkming away to where they had moved the water. Kise looked at you, confused. You look over at him. "Different dialect, im guessing Moroccan," you say casually, "I'm guessing that why he didn't understand you."

"Since when do you know arabic?" Kise asked, shocked at the sudden revalation. "I went to school with a lot of Arabs-" you shrug. "And you never told me?" He asked. You just shrugged. "I dont know much anyways-"

Which he came to find out was a flat out lie.

The entire trip consisted of him watching you effortlessly communicate with the locals, often stepping in to say what he was trying to say.

On the airport back, he let out a scoff while smiling. "I can't believe you never told me-" he said as he looked at you. "Didn't think it was that interesting," you shrug. Arriving at the check in counter, he hands your tickects and passports to the man behind the counter. The man accidentally ripped the edges of one of the tikcets, mumbling to himself as looked down at the rip. You reply back to the man, who seemed to perk up when he realized that you understood him. A sight that Kise had gone used to, the locals seeming impressed when you spoke the language - and though you didn't admit it - very fluently.

He smiled as you, taking pride in the fact that you sounded so beautiful when you spoke. The man and you talked for a bit, waving him goodbye when he had checked you in. Making your way to teh first class lounge, Kise turned to you. "What dialect was that? I didn't recognize it," he asked. "Oh that wasn't arabic. He spoke Dari-" you replied.

Kise froze. "what?" he asked confused. you stop and turn back to him. "Persian," you say, "Now c'mon, im starving, i want something to eat."

The whole flight back consisted of Kise asking you how many other languages you knew. Wondering how linguistically confused your kids would be groiwng up.

_____________________________

kise definitely yells Free Palestine on da top of his lungs. and i lub him for that.

#ferg0s #kuroko no basket #kuroko no basquet #knb x reader #kurokos basketball #kagami x reader #aomine daiki x reader #kise ryōta #kise x reader #midorima shintaro x reader #midorima x reader #kagami taiga

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