#practicing sketching tiny faces - they continue to be hard but hopefully you can see some continuity in them from previous sketches

[twnj]

Choji: You've been staring daggers at the guy on that magazine since your mum dropped it off two days ago - who is he?

Shikamaru: Uh...Just some guy I know

Choji: Is he like, a rival or something?

Shikamaru: Something like that, yeah.

Choji: Like a rival in chess or.....? He looks like a douche, anyway.

Shikamaru: No I mean, he's nice enough...he’s a smart man, good head, good game, good reputation, good....career.

Choji: So, he's a douche.

Shikamaru:...Yeah...but much improved now you've drawn that cock and balls on his face 👀

Choji: Anytime, bruh 😌

Headcannon madness inspired by the wonderful Shikatema fic Grandmaster by @notquitejiraiya.

Thanks to @ferocityh for allowing me to bother her for a translation!

[the-wardens-torch]

FFXIVwrite2023 - Clear

FFXIVwrite2023 - Prompt #14, entry #7

((After Off the Hook and Once Bitten, in that order.))

The heart of the matter is the coffin card, which speaks of something about to end. This is not a bad card, as things often end to make way for the new--to be reborn, or such. As for the rest of the reading…

"A legacy of old will soon end to make way for the new." "The legacy will bring about the end of the former bearer." "However, it will bring about this timeless gift to you."

She had couched her explanation in a warning that her clients sometimes became even more puzzled after her readings than they were before. But Fal knew from experience that Reo was ever the type to sell herself short. Like the best of seers, she possessed a great intuition, but it was often undermined by her humility. He was 100% certain there was truth in her words, but at the moment he felt too dense to find it. He understood as clearly as mud, so to speak.

Which is why he'd decided he needed to seek his father Uther's counsel. A decision he was only slightly regretting now that he was seated on a hard wooden chair in a gloomy study. He watched his father stalk the bookshelves that constituted his only decor until he found a suitably ominous-looking volume.

"It shall be nice to teach you something without you telling me where I can stick my books." he said dryly as he turned back towards his son.

Falerin remained silent. He was suddenly grateful that his father forgave easily. Well, not "forgave" so much as "didn't care all that much in the first place." The man was too detached for hurt feelings and too practical for pettiness.

"So you dream of a dragon? Stabbed through the eye with a hooked spear by a strangely dressed man with a skull-face?" it had been more of a statement than a question.

"Yes. and I'm the dragon. But also... looking at the dragon somehow. Its been bugging me for weeks."

Seemingly hearing the word "bug," Fal's tiny, seldom-seen familiar Ruby hid herself further in the hood of his robe. When he looked up, Uther was staring at the exact wrinkle of cloth where she was hiding herself, almost longingly. But within a second he seemed to snap out of it, crossing the room towards Fal, holding the book in his hands. It was bound in red and silver and nearly three ilms thick, and Fal couldn't see the pages from this angle. What he could see, however, was a veritable thicket of notes that served as bookmarks. Spreading his long fingers spider-like, Uther gently plucked one, opening the book to the corresponding page.

"Bahamut. The Dawn Wyrm. Of the First Brood sired by Midgardsormr. Killed in Meracydia and resurrected as an imperfect primal, then imprisoned by the flamboyant and brilliant Allagan technologist Amon."

Not waiting for his son to respond, he placed the book on the table and turned it to face him.

Falerin suddenly felt as if the bulk of his consciousness had drained into his feet. What he was seeing seemed to displace his mind straight out of his head, like a too-big rock being dropped into a too-small pond.

The page before him contained only a single charcoal sketch that somehow, in its roughness, portrayed each detail all the more clearly.

A man in a skull-like mask, clad in a variety of incongruous fabrics. And in his hand, a long, cruelly hooked piece of metal.

((Sped through this one much faster than I would have liked… Hopefully I can continue it with the next prompt somehow. I'm starting to think of these as sketches/outlines for some writing I'll take a bit more time with in the future. Thanks a third time to @adeat for Reo. He had her do a Lenormand card reading for Fal, and I'm trying to tailor the story to it because I think its neat!))

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

Lily Briscoe, Remember?

PART TWENTY-SIX OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: drinking, smoking, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: After a visit to a local bar, Ella catches up with Jess and spends a night in Philadelphia.

Twirling her cool water glass around and around on the grimy table, Ella smiled softly when a Strokes song came over the speakers. The bar was some hole-in-the-wall dive a few blocks down from the publishing house, still adorned with St. Patrick’s Day decorations although it was halfway through May. But Ella didn’t mind it. There weren’t rowdy swarms of college students or bachelorette parties. Instead, people in their late twenties sat around in black, square-framed glasses talking in buzzing tones. They had locally-made beer and a small, empty stage with just a stool, where independent artists played on the weekends. The air was salty with fries and early summer excitement. Matthew made conversation with her as Chris and Jess went up to order the drinks. Leaning back against the ripped vinyl booth, Ella listened intently as Matthew, sat across from her in a creaky wooden chair, told her about he and Chris meeting in high school.

“...so, we weren’t in the AV club or anything, but we definitely weren’t on the football team either-”

Chris led the way back to the table with a tray of beers and a hoot of satisfaction, Jess trailing behind his friend and rolling his eyes.

Stopping mid-sentence, Matthew turned to Chris and swiped a drink. Chris sat down beside him and was almost instantly chattering away. Matthew seemed kind, quiet, subdued. A good balance to Chris’s chaotic enthusiasm. Jess slid into the booth beside Ella, shrugging off his suit jacket, flushed in the stuffy air. Their upper arms touched, making her stomach do a flip. Even though it had been years since he lived at Luke’s, Jess still somehow had an aroma of pine.

“So,” Chris began, turning to Ella with a pointed look and a grin, “what do you do, Ella?”

“Oh, um, I’m a waitress.”

“And an artist,” Jess chimed in, taking a sip from his bottle.

Ella rolled her eyes and then shot him a teasing glare. “Not professionally. But I just graduated from Southern Connecticut State last week. Hopefully I won’t be filling sandwich orders my whole life.”

“You graduated already, Doogie?” Jess asked with a pleasant, surprised chuckle.

She shrugged. “Wasn’t too big a deal. I took summer classes and stuff.”

“What’s your major?” Matthew asked.

“Studio art,” she said. “Minor in history, though.”

Jess raised his brows, but said nothing. Apparently she hadn’t gone through only outward changes. He could smell her lavender perfume as he sipped on his cheap, watery beer. It was odd to see her in Keeley’s, a bar he’d frequented since arriving in Philadelphia. The feeling was not quite deja-vu, but his worlds were certainly colliding. In the back of his mind, he wondered where her necklace was, wondered where she was living. It was easy to feel like he knew her, maybe better than anyone, but they hadn’t spoken in so long. She could be married, for all he knew. Scanning her thin hands, he found no engagement or wedding rings. But an uneasiness still sat right under his skin, eager to be resolved.

Crossing his arms, elbows on the table, Chris leaned closer into the conversation. “That’s so cool! Do you have anything lined up? Seems like you should, considering how many people tried to buy your sketches today.”

She scoffed, continuing to turn her glass anxiously. A blush warmed her cheeks, and a nervous smile tugged at her lips as she averted her eyes down to the table. “Sort of. Grad school is where I’m headed now.”

“Really?” Jess chimed in. “Where?”

Clearing her throat, Ella raked a hand through her hair. Though Jess tilted his head at her, she refused to meet his gaze. “It’s funny, actually. I’ve still got some things to work out...but UPenn.”

“No way! That’s right down the road from us!” Chris exclaimed.

Ella’s smile widened marginally, and excitement rose in her chest. “Yeah, it’s weird. I had a few I was choosing between, and Penn reached out and...I only confirmed a couple weeks ago. A few days before I got your invitation in the mail. Since I was coming down here anyway, I scheduled my interview with the Dean for tomorrow.”

“Well, congrats,” Matthew said, raising his bottle.

“Thanks,” she replied, feeling slightly silly as she toasted her water against their beers.

Before another moment had passed, Chris got a page on his beeper. Apparently, the poet who had performed at the open house had left something of his behind and would need to be let in early the next morning. Matthew and Chris began commiserating amongst themselves about the performer, who was apparently less than a joy to work with. Biting on the inside of her cheek, Ella tried to suppress her smile. Too much joy made her nervous. It meant always waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d had the odd mixture of anxiety and anticipation brewing in her stomach since opening Jess’s package. It was too much of a coincidence for her to be going to a school five minutes away from where Jess worked. Too perfect. She didn’t trust it.

Beside her, Jess was trying equally hard to hold in his emotions. She would be in Philly. Right down the road. She hadn’t been right down the road from him in what felt like forever. There were still so many unknowns. But he couldn’t help the swell of his heart. What were the chances? Plastering on a smug smirk, a mask to hide his exhilaration at her news, he nudged her gently with his elbow.

“So, you’re Philly bound?”

“Seems that way,” she said, nodding.

He hummed in acknowledgement, pausing to gaze at her for a moment. Freckles and Bette Davis eyes and a deep, raspy voice. So different but so familiar. She offered him a tiny smile, caught up in the moment. A swarm of pleasant butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and again, she wished they could kiss. Inside their private world, as they once had been.

“Y’know, I think it was fate,” Jess said, smirk growing. “Us both ending up here.”

She snorted a laugh and shook her head slightly. “Not all that idealist bullshit again, Mariano.”

“Hey, not everything changes,” Jess shrugged, taking another sip.

“Guess not,” she said quietly, a fond sparkle in her hazel eyes. “But I’d expect nothing less from a Hemingway fetishist.”

Jess rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Stevie Nicks.”

Instead of retorting, Ella snatched the beer sitting before Jess and took a long sip. Setting it down in front of him again, she winked and then began to hum along to Julian Casablancas’s lyrics.

.   .   .

“I’m serious. I was really planning on just getting a motel,” Ella insisted.

Shushing her, a finger on his lips, Chris shook his head. He stood in the tiny kitchen, rummaging through the rusty fridge for some drunk food. Matthew was tipsy, and had already retreated to his room. Chris, however, had managed to get absolutely wasted. They’d practically dragged him up the stairs in Truncheon to the apartment above, while he babbled loudly, complaining about his boyfriend being out of town for the open house. Now, as Jess and Ella argued about her sleeping in the apartment, he offered slurred interjections and cackles off to the side.

Jess, having only drunk two beers over the course of the day, rolled his eyes at his friend. “Go to bed, man.”

“Make me, Jess,” Chris replied jovially, retrieving a box of fried chicken from behind the half-and-half. Straightening up, he shot them both a smug grin and made for the bedroom he shared with Matthew. “Have fun, kids.”

“Good luck fighting that sweater off your head,” Ella quipped, not able to stop the words before they left her mouth. Chris, for all his exuberance, was wearing deceptively stuffy clothes. A button-up with a patterned sweater over it, khakis.

Again, Chris only laughed. “She’s feisty. Let’s keep her forever.”

Smiling thinly, Ella gave him the finger. He blew her a kiss before entering the dark room and shutting the door loudly behind him. Ella winced slightly. She knew Matthew was probably already asleep in one of the room’s twin beds.

Jess ran a hand down his face, standing amid the cluttered mess of their living room.

Ella turned back to Jess, crossing her arms over her chest as an amused crease formed between her brows. “How’d you end up living with them again?”

“Long story.”

“I would imagine.”

“He’s usually not quite so intolerable, but it’s been a big day,” Jess said apologetically. “And he’s still super pissed his boyfriend had to go outta town for work.”

Ella shrugged. “Hey, no problem. I like them. But, yes, it has been a big day. And I don’t want to keep you up any longer. So, why don’t I just stay at a motel?”

Shaking his head, Jess gestured for her to follow him and led the way to his bedroom. “Yeah, right. It’s past midnight. You can just crash with me. Not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “Are you sure? At least let me take the couch. I’ve been sleeping on one for two years, anyway.”

“At Lane’s?” Jess asked, switching on the ceiling light as they entered.

Surveying the bedroom, a smile immediately came to Ella’s lips. The living room was an absolute mess, but he’d managed to keep his own room decently clean. In the small space, he had only a queen-sized bed, pushed against the wall with the windows, and a dresser, on top of which his boombox sat. Piles of books and CDs littered the scratched wood floor, mostly in the free corners. A framed poster of Nietzche hung above his bed, and she burst out laughing when she saw it, before she could help herself.

“What?” Jess asked, brows furrowed.

She pointed to the poster, then bit down on her thumb nail to stifle her giggles. “Nothing, I’m just glad you’re becoming self-aware.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Already overstaying your welcome, Stevens. The bathroom’s the first door on the left when you walk into the apartment. You can get changed, brush your teeth, whatever.”

Nodding, Ella slipped off her shoes near the door and put down her heavy shoulder bag. It only took a minute of rifling through before she found the pajamas and toothbrush she’d packed for the short trip. Since she was little, she couldn’t fall asleep before brushing her teeth first. Clutching the supplies in her arms, she turned back to Jess. He’d taken off his suit jacket and tossed it down on the bed, was unclasping his watch and setting it down on the dresser. He looked so grown up in the yellowish overhead light, bright against the dark green walls.

“This is really okay with you, Jess?” she asked, sounding shyer than he’d ever heard.

“Yeah,” he replied, flashing her a reassuring smile. “What kind of host would I be otherwise?”

Smiling back, Ella nodded again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As she left the room, Jess let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in and ran a hand over his mouth. He thought back to the night she’d let him sleep over, dragged him from the freezing back seat of his old car into her warm bedroom. It was the least he could do. Truly. But anxiety squeezed his insides tightly. He tried to shake it off. Ella herself had said he didn’t need to be nervous. He changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt quickly, running his hands through his neat hair and turning it messy. When she returned, face washed and teeth brushed, he was just flicking on his bedside lamp and pulling back the blue comforter. He recognized the Bowie t-shirt she wore from some vague memory.

“No KISS shirt?” he asked.

She chuckled as she stuffed her dress and toothbrush into her bag near the door. “Oh, I never travel with that. Couldn’t bear for it to get lost.”

“Oh, right, my mistake,” Jess said. “You can turn out that switch, if you want.”

Ella turned off the overhead light, left only in the glow of his nightstand lamp. Before the nausea could overtake her, she powered through the shakiness of her hands and came to sit across from him. It didn’t need to be strange. She’d just gotten her best friend back. And they could sleep in the same bed as they had so many times before.

“Since I’m already taking advantage of your hospitality,” she began, eyeing the half-empty pack of Marlboros on the floor by the bed, “could I maybe borrow a cigarette?”

Smirking fondly, Jess nodded, reaching down to grab the pack and the lighter. He lit hers for her as she held it between her lips, and then his own. He cracked open the window and flicked ash out into the May midnight.

“What’s got you smoking?” he asked.

She sighed through her nose in white streams. “My interview with the Dean tomorrow. I mean, I’m already in. And they contacted me because of my portfolio. But, I don’t know. Anything could happen.”

“But it won’t,” Jess said. “It’ll be fine. You’re Lily Briscoe, remember?”

A weak smile crossed her face and she gave an unconvincing nod. Then, she looked back up at him curiously. “What about you? Still smoke as much as you did in high school?”

Jess shook his head. “No. Almost never. But I may have panicked about this whole open house thing last night.”

“Looked like it went great,” she said, tapping ash out the window, sitting cross-legged.

Shrugging, Jess leaned back against the wall behind his bed. “We’ll see what that lady from the paper writes.”

“Who cares what she thinks?” Ella asked.

“People who could spend their money here,” Jess answered, chuckling breathily.

Waving a dismissive hand, Ella took a final drag of her cigarette. She crushed it out on the windowsill, where she saw the small, circular remnants of smokes past, before throwing butt out the window into the dumpster below. “Maybe. Seems like you’ve got a pretty decent underground following already.”

“And you call me the idealist,” he said, shaking his head and tossing out his own cigarette.

She laughed lightly, following Jess’s lead as he closed his window again and got under the covers. Soon, they faced each other with their heads against Jess’s pillows. They smelled like him. After shutting off his lamp, Jess regarded Ella in the dim light. He felt like he’d stepped through a door into a memory or a dream.

“Speaking of Truncheon, tell me about the book,” she said quietly.

“Which book?”

“Your book, Sherlock,” she teased.

He sighed, swallowing dryly. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” she replied. “I mean, when did you write it? How did you write it? Did ever end up getting a computer, or-”

“Woah, Stevens,” he interrupted, snickering at her rapid-fire questions. “I started writing it when I was still in Stars Hollow.”

She furrowed her brows. “What?”

“Yeah. That notebook I came back for when I picked up my car? I sort of...started before I left. I took a break in California. But I started taking advantage of the library computers when I got back to New York.”

“So, it really was an On The Road thing.”

“Not quite so ambitious,” he said. “But, once I read that Stephen King book you got me...I just got started.”

“And you never told me?” she asked.

He only shrugged in response.

Ella shook her head slightly, watching him with furrowed brows. “Curiouser and curiouser, Mariano.”

“I wanted to surprise you with it.”

“Well, you did.” She thought she saw a flush rise to his cheeks, but couldn’t quite tell in the low light. Something indecipherable flashed across his eyes as he hesitated. She took the lead instead. “Hey Jess?”

“Hm?”

“I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Jess rolled his eyes, really blushing now. His face went scarlet, and he uttered a nervous chuckle. “Thanks, Daria.”

“Anytime, James Dean.”

Ignoring the flip of his stomach, Jess let the compliment roll off him like water and faced her earnestly. “Did you say you were still livin’ with Lane?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It was just...easier than getting my own place. A smaller chunk of the rent to pay. Especially with how many classes I was taking, and it was right across the street from Luke’s. At some point, we upgraded to a futon, so it was a little easier to sleep.”

Jess snorted. “I’m pretty sure you could fall asleep in the middle of a tornado, get transported to Oz, then back to Kansas, and wouldn’t wake up the whole time.”

“Be that as it may,” she said pointedly, “it was pretty okay. But Lane and Zach are getting married in a couple weeks. It would be time to move out even if it wasn’t for grad school.”

“Lane and Zach?” Jess asked, brows furrowed in surprise. “What about that Dave guy?”

Ella sighed softly. “He went to California for college. Eventually, they broke up. And she was on and off with Zach and...I don’t know. He’s not the worst guy. And I know there’s no talking her out of it, anyway.”

“People are gonna do what they’re gonna do,” Jess agreed, thinking back to his own mother’s last wedding.

“I’ll miss her, though. Without Lane, I would probably still have majored in history. Ended up teaching at Stars Hollow High.”

“No way.”

“I’m not so sure. But just seeing Lane play with the band all the time...she looked so happy. Even though she had no money and her mom was pissed at her. I thought maybe actually trying to do what you love wasn’t such a crazy idea,” she explained, voice husky and tired, but so lively.  

It made Jess smile. “That’s great, Eleanor.”

She shrugged again and cleared her throat, wincing slightly. “Ugh, Jesus. Smoking is never worth it. I don’t think I’ve smoked since...since the last time we saw each other. The morning after you left.”

His face fell. There it was. Finally. “I’m sorry, Elle.”

“For what?” she asked dismissively. The past was past.

“For that night. Everything. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s okay, Jess.”

“Luke gave me this stupid self-help book and I read it and we kinda went to the wedding together and I got...mixed up.”

Smiling softly, Ella shifted in her spot to move a little closer to him. “I’m gonna need more details on that self-help book later.”

He uttered a self-conscious scoff.

“But, really Jess, it’s okay. I understand. And...I just...I wasn’t ready,” she said finally, struggling for her words. “After I moved out of my dad’s house...I still needed Lane. And Lorelai. And Luke. I always thought getting away would fix everything. But...I wasn’t ready for you.”

A sad smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I was ready for you, either.”

Breathing deeply, Ella let the moment pass between them. Forgiveness, maybe? On both sides? She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she knew it made her feel calmer. Maybe ripping old wounds open was worth it if it meant they would finally get the chance to heal.

“I bet you started breaking hearts when you got here though. What with the starry-eyed starving artist thing you’ve got going on,” she said. She knew it was a flimsy attempt at being sly, but she just couldn’t bring herself to ask him outright. And he was letting her sleep in his bed. That was a positive sign. But she needed to know for sure.

He chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Not really. Turns out, people don’t flock to the guy with nothing but a shitty final draft and a duffel bag to his name.” Then, after a beat of silence, sirens blaring from somewhere off in the distance of the city, he spoke again. “What about you?”

The inquisitive, almost hopeful, tone in his voice made her heart skip a beat. “Nothing extraordinary. A couple dates. Guys. Girls. Never got anything to stick.”

“Hm.” Jess paused, watching Ella watch him.

The sound of the singing crickets mixed strangely with the murmur of the city, even in the early Monday morning hours. Ella tried to remember each detail of the present moment. Lying beside Jess in Philadelphia, preparing to go to grad school, finally out from under the thumbs of her father and Stars Hollow. And in love. She decided on it finally. Nothing had changed. She loved Jess as she had for so long, even if she had never truly realized it. Maybe she had, but was too scared to admit it. She thought back to the day he took her to the Met, riding back home in his car, nothing but the dark, empty highway around them. She’d almost said it then. But she hadn’t. Even then, though, she’d been completely his. All or nothing. Do or die.

Slowly, she brought her hand out from under the covers and placed it on his cheek. She stroked his stubbly skin with her thumb. The boy who’d turned into a man all on his own, who had always been so guarded and so kind. Who gave her a bed when she was drunk and bought her charcoals on Valentine’s Day and took her to museums and wrote books for her and hung her drawings on his wall. Who she had taken to a private movie and driven to the emergency room and kissed as an Interpol song played and brought in from the cold. The give and take which had always been there, making her feel safe. Easy. Home.

Taking a moment to close his eyes, Jess quieted all the thoughts screaming in his head.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“I missed you too,” he replied, too overwhelmed to say much of anything else. He remembered the night on the bridge when they’d decided to try together. How the nerves had made his stomach churn. But she’d taken his hand in hers. She’d made the first move. And made his whole being feel calm. She had cared for him when he couldn’t care for himself. It made him feel like a teenager again. Her touch. Her voice. Her mind.

He wound his arm around her waist and brought her closer, hugging her tightly. They were silent and comfortable. Eventually, Ella’s breathing deepened and Jess felt her muscles relax, holding her. Outside, he could see the full moon reflecting light against a clear night sky. And he felt so content he could barely shut his eyes for a second, fearful of missing anything.

[unspokenfaith]

A Not So Surprising Romantic Gesture

Pairings: Peter Parker/Michelle Jones Rating: T Word Count: 2943 Genre: Fluff/Humor Summary: 5 times Peter tries to ask MJ to prom and 1 time he doesn’t have to.

So I originally had this planned for Spideychelle Month, but only recently had the inspiration to finish writing it. I just love the thought of Peter and MJ still being awkward idiots even after dating for a while :’) Also really enjoyed writing all the side characters in; it definitely added to all the fun.

AO3

I.

Asking your long-term girlfriend to senior prom seemed like the logical thing to do. But then again, so did skipping over all the hassle and taking her anyway, because why wouldn’t they go together? 

Peter knew how much MJ resented traditions, particularly gendered ones, but he also knew the smile on her face and the gleam in her eyes whenever he surprised her with a romantic gesture, and it was safe to say that alone outweighed anything else.

Under any other circumstances, he would’ve asked her opinion on the matter—some things he just couldn’t get a read on—but Peter wanted this to be a surprising romantic gesture. The surprising romantic gesture. MJ more than deserved that. 

And perhaps there was a tiny, selfish part of him that always hoped he could ask the girl of his dreams to prom, even if he couldn’t dance to save his life.

Peter felt confident one sunny, April morning when he stepped off the bus, bouquet of flowers in hand. Black dahlias, of course. 

He rehearsed what he was going to say at least thirty times in his head from the moment he woke up, but he couldn’t settle on the right words. What else was he supposed to say besides ‘MJ, will you go to prom with me?’ Even though we’ve been dating for nine months, so it’s not like we would go with anyone else anyway, right? It seemed so easy, yet it also didn’t feel like enough. At least the flowers would add a little something extra. 

By the entrance, Peter spotted MJ with her back to him, talking to Ned and Betty. Inexplicably, the four of them made a habit of meeting outside every morning before walking in together. Cheesy and predictable as it was, it always put a smile on Peter’s face no matter how he was feeling that day. 

Ned caught his eye, flashing him a smile. Peter shook his head furiously before he could say anything. He didn’t want MJ to see him yet. 

“Hey, Penis Parker!” 

Peter skidded to a stop, his heart jumping to his throat and the flowers dropping into a puddle. Flash’s shiny new car nearly ran Peter over, but that seemed to be the least of his concerns.

“Watch where you’re going! You could’ve hit my car!” Flash slowed down as he passed him, and his eyes widened at the drenched dahlias. “Aww! Did you get those for me, Parker? That’s so thoughtful, but I’m not interested.”

He couldn’t so much as lift his head and entertain a response before Flash drove away to find a parking spot. 

He couldn’t even find himself to appreciate the irony of black dahlias wilting in dirty water. His only consolation was that MJ sure would’ve. 

II.

Despite yesterday’s disappointment, Peter quickly contrived a new and hopefully Flash-proof idea. Unfortunately, this one required a lot more patience.

He never realized how little MJ went to her locker until he sped down the hallway and peeked around the corner after every period waiting for her to show up. Then again, she didn’t really have any reason to when she used one notebook for all of her classes—and every line of every page at that. And when she couldn’t fill a page, she would draw random sketches, mostly of Peter’s face in physics.

“What? It’s funny,” she would say. “You’re always so focused.”

And the way she said “funny,” like she really meant “adorable,” never failed to make Peter blush.

“Dude, what are you doing?” 

Peter jumped at the sound of Ned’s voice.

“Hey, shh! I’m waiting for MJ,” he said.

Ned blinked. “You know she’s your girlfriend, right? Why are you hiding?” 

“Ned, please!” Peter whispered loudly. “It’s a surprise, okay? I don’t want her to see me yet.”

“Oh! This is the prom thing!” he practically screamed.

“Dude, seriously!”

Their back-and-forth picked up a few glances from passing students. Peter laughed nervously before turning back to Ned.

“Try to be quiet about it, okay? Please.”

“Right, right, right,” Ned said. “Sorry. Should I—Hey, there’s MJ and Betty.”

Peter turned around, and sure enough, there was MJ, fiddling with the combination on her locker—Betty rambling behind her. 

“Please! Pretty please!” Betty put her hands together, pouting. “You said you would.”

MJ sighed. “I know, but...I can’t this weekend. I’ve got…you know, stuff.”

Betty placed her hands on her hips. “I know you really want to go. You just don’t want to be excited.”

“I do want to. I just...we haven’t really talked about what we’re doing yet.”

Peter felt his stomach twist into a knot once he realized what she was talking about. Was she expecting him to have asked her already? Or was she not expecting him to ask at all? Was she mad they haven’t talked about prom at all?

Was he doing something wrong?

“Peter, she’s opening the locker.” Ned tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

As soon as the door swung open, Betty screamed, causing both Peter and Ned to jump.

“Jesus, Betty, don’t do that!” MJ said.

“Move!” But Betty shifted so she stood in front of MJ, then proceeded to toss everything out of her locker. Used papers and pens flew everywhere. Peter’s heart sank when he saw a particularly important one slide under a neighboring locker.

“Betty, what the—” 

Betty stomped her foot, pushing it hard into the floor. “Sorry, there was a spider!”

“Was it really necessary to tear my locker apart?”

Their voices faded as Peter turned away, leaning on the wall and staring at the ceiling. 

“Man, I’m sorry, Peter,” Ned said. “You can always try again tomorrow.”

III.

Peter did not try again tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. 

Four days was ample time for him to recover from another failed prom ask. He didn’t want to waste too much time, especially after overhearing MJ’s conversation with Betty. 

Baking was all science. At least that’s what Peter told himself after spilling bags of flour and nearly setting the kitchen on fire. May insisted on stepping in, but he was determined to do this all by himself, even if it took him all night. 

He might’ve lost valuable study time, and a lot of sleep, but it was worth it in the end to have five chocolate frosted red velvet cupcakes. While Peter’s original plan was to bake the whole batch, only half were worth saving. Luckily, he only needed four letters and a question mark’s worth. 

MJ liked them because, supposedly, “no one else does.” Everyone always goes for the vanilla frosted. How she ever determined that, he had no idea. But the information made itself useful.

Rather than approaching her before school, he thought it best to keep them covered in his locker until the end of the day. Less people around. Less of a chance that everything will go wrong. Hopefully less spiders. 

As soon as the final bell rang, Peter sprinted to his locker and carefully removed the tray. MJ was always the first one to arrive to Academic Decathlon, and he would make sure to be there before anyone else. 

He checked his watch—2:18. Decathlon practice started at 2:30. Plenty of time. 

Peter’s skin prickled as he approached the door of the classroom. He had no reason to be nervous. It’s not as though she would say “no.” But what she said to Betty still lingered in the back of his mind, feeding into his nerves, planting his feet to the floor. 

After talking himself in and out of it several times, he took a deep breath and opened the door. 

Much to his disappointment, MJ wasn’t in her usual spot at the front of the room. In fact, she wasn’t in the room at all. 

Cursing himself for being too early, Peter set the cupcakes down on a desk. He looked from the clock on the wall to his watch, then back to the clock again, as though the little, red second hand would bring MJ here faster.

“Woah, Peter! Did you bring those for the team?” 

Peter turned around to find Winston standing in the doorway. Before he had time to react, Winston rushed over to his desk and grabbed a cupcake. 

“No, no, no! Wait!” 

But Winston was already devouring the chocolate “P.” 

“Winston, those were for—”

MJ walked in a few seconds too late. “Hey, dorks. What’s up? You guys are early.” She went to the front of the classroom to set her bag down. 

Winston looked from MJ to Peter, eyes widening with the realization of what he just did. 

“Peter, I’m so sorry...”

Peter forced a smile. “It’s fine, Winston. They’re all yours.”

There was no sense in asking MJ if she would like to go to “Rom.”

IV.

With everything that happened over the past week, Peter began to see the error of his ways. All of his promposals were private. There was too much risk in privacy. He needed to ask MJ to prom in a way that was unavoidable. Foolproof. But not too public. 

Peter stuck with the decathlon room. It was never used until the team met after school. So early one morning, he got his robot spider to unlock the door. He wrote the question bold and large on the whiteboard then slid the chalkboard back to cover it. 

Mr. Harrington always used the white board. The sound of the chalk on the board made him sweat. And then he would get so flustered that he’d continue. It wasn’t a good experience for anyone in the room.

Drumming his fingers on the desk, Peter stared at the empty chalkboard. MJ flashed him a confused glance.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, totally. Just ready to get started.” Peter’s voice was at least two octaves higher than normal, and he knew it. He just hoped MJ didn’t notice. 

Mr. Harrington walked up to the board. Peter hadn’t noticed how loud his foot was tapping under the desk until a couple of the team members gave him looks.

“Okay, guys, I want to go over a few of the logistics for the competition,” Mr. Harrington said, reaching for the markers, but paused. “Oh, where did they go?”

“Where did what go, Mr. Harrington?” Peter asked. But then it hit him. He was in such a rush earlier that he never put the markers back. He must’ve shoved them into his locker without thinking.

“My markers,” he said. “I don’t see them anywhere.” Mr. Harrington lowered his glasses slightly, scanning his desk. “Huh, well, I guess we’re using the chalkboard today.”

A chorus of groans sounded throughout the room.

“I know, I know, guys. It sounds like the lonely cries of a single man in his bed at night,” he said, followed by silence. “Well, anyway…”

Peter’s foot started tapping on the floor again. Sure, he could just walk up there and pull the chalkboard aside. But that completely defeated the point. It was supposed to be a surprise. It was supposed to happen naturally. 

“Wait! Mr. Harrington, uh...doesn’t anyone have a marker?” Peter asked.

Not a single response. MJ eyed him curiously. By now, she knew something was going on with him. 

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Peter, but I think we’re all going to have to suffer together today,” Mr. Harrington said, turning back to the board and hesitantly picking up a piece of chalk. 

“Man, he’s not having a good day, is he?” Ned whispered.

Peter knew the feeling.

V. 

Standing in the school library, card in hand, Peter was persistent in making this work. After a week of almosts, he was going to make sure that—no matter what—today would be the day. He was going to ask his girlfriend to prom, and no one or nothing was going to stop him. 

He spent the previous night putting together a card specifically for MJ. Peter was by no means artistically inclined, so he did it all on the computer—cutting and pasting images of some of her favorite things. On the front of the card, he placed her favorite picture of them. Betty took it at her Christmas party. She had pointed out the mistletoe above their heads. Peter blushed as MJ kissed his cheek. Everyone cheered. 

It might’ve been his favorite picture, too.

Peter slid the card into MJ’s favorite poetry book, Milk and Honey. She picked it up as a study break every time the two of them came to the library to do homework. Sometimes he asked her to read the poems aloud just so he could watch the soft, thoughtful expression on her face as she spoke the words. 

So he knew when he asked her to meet him here after class, that’s exactly what she would do. Only this time she would have something new to read. 

As soon as he heard footsteps, Peter scrambled to sit down and lay his books out. He started writing out random notes as she approached the table.

MJ squeezed his hand as she sat down across from him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Peter smiled brightly. 

“What’s up?” MJ squinted at him.

“What do you mean? Just studying is all,” he laughed.

“No, not right now. I mean in general. You’ve been acting weird all week.”

“N-nothing. Nothing’s up. Just nervous, I guess.”

“For what?”

“Oh, you know…” Peter said. “The test next week.” He wanted to kick himself for saying the first thing that came to his mind.

“Oh, yeah, I guess.”

Through all his prom planning, Peter somehow managed to forget they had a physics test next week. He’d have to worry about that later. 

The two were mostly quiet while they studied, Peter too afraid he’d give something away by talking, and MJ too busy actually focusing on the material. He flipped through the pages of the textbook, pretending to read while he occasionally glanced at her. Waiting for her to take a break. 

Suddenly, Brad walked into the library, passing by their table on his way to one of the shelves. The poetry section. 

Peter fought every urge to start squirming in his seat, which only resulted in him starting to squirming in his seat.

MJ put her book down. “Okay, seriously, Peter, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I just…” 

She followed his gaze behind her to where Brad was browsing dangerously close to MJ’s book. 

“Brad? Is that what’s bothering you?”

Peter shook his head furiously, watching as Brad picked up Milk and Honey, about to open the cover.

He pushed himself up from his chair. “Brad! What are you doing?”

Brad shot him a look of annoyance. “Trying to find a book for my English project. Sorry if that’s a crime, Parker,” he said. “Although you’re one to judge.” 

MJ rolled her eyes. “You’re really not going to let that one go, are you? No one believes that Peter’s a prostitute, so drop it already.”

“That’s my book!” Peter exclaimed. “I was just going to rent it out!”

“Wait, what?” MJ said.

Brad flipped through the book, and Peter’s chest tightened. “Don’t see your name on it anywhere. You don’t look in a hurry to take it.”

Without thinking, Peter went over and grabbed the book from Brad’s hand. “I said I’m borrowing it, okay?”

“Okay, chill.” Brad held his arms up in defeat. “It’s just a book.” He shook his head as he wandered over to the next section. 

Peter sighed in relief. When he turned around, he found MJ staring at something on the floor next to him. 

VI. 

“What?” Peter followed her gaze to a small, familiar piece of paper folded on the ground. He scanned the pages of the book, even though he already knew the card was missing.

MJ rose from her seat and bent down to pick it up. Peter was about to stop her before he realized this was what he was waiting for to happen. Even if it wasn’t happening in the way he planned.

“It’s stupid. I’m sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

She said nothing. Just stared at the front of the card, her lips slowly curving into a smile. Peter remained silent as she opened it, studying every letter, every image. He wasn’t sure if he should be troubled by the fact that she still wasn’t saying anything in response.

MJ refolded the card, placing it on the desk. 

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s really cheesy, and we’re already dating, so why am I asking, right?” Peter laughed nervously, unable to meet her eyes.

“Stop talking, loser,” she said.

Peter cleared his throat and nodded. 

“You’re right. This is incredibly cheesy.” 

His shoulders sank. God, why did you do it, Peter? So stupid. 

“But,” MJ continued. “This is easily the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Peter looked up, beaming. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiled back.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t ask you sooner, or we didn’t talk about it and make plans, or….I’m just really sorry.”

MJ put a finger over his mouth. “My answer is ‘yes,’ okay?”

Peter kissed her right there, in the middle of the school library, catching a few glances and whispers. The librarian didn’t look too thrilled about it, but she buried her nose in a book as though she hadn’t noticed.  

MJ gently pushed him away. “You haven’t been worrying about this all week, have you?”

“Of course not,” Peter laughed.

He was the worst liar imaginable, but at least he was taking his girlfriend to prom. 

[lovesickjoon]

bad religion - jjk (m)

pairing: jungkook/reader

rating: NSFW (18+)

genre: SMUT, hunter!reader au, kingofhell!jungkook (yes this was highkey inspired by spn)

words: 6.7k

desc.: it was a bad religion to fall for someone who could never love you. but, thankfully you hadn't fallen yet. and who knows? maybe he could learn how to love. or namjoon, your dumbass witchy friend ends up possessed by a demon. on halloween night, you make a deal with the devil to try and get him back.

warnings: dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral, dom!jungkook, tiny bit of breathplay, possessive jungkook, probably forgetting something

notes: im sick so this is super unedited! also this is my p late submission for the BTS Smut Club Halloween Smut Fest: Prompt #77 “You can’t sell me your soul, when you don’t have one to begin with.”

The warmth of Summer was long gone. The air felt sticky, despite the chilly breeze. The moon was abnormally bright, casting a silver glow upon the Earth. It was unsettling, being able to only see the moon, and not a single star. The inky clouds that occasionally floated in front of the hanging, luminous pearl, never once caused it to dim. Your stomach churns and twists in protests. Your subconscious continuously beckoned to you, begging for you to turn back. It had been a long drive to find the secluded crossroads, and it was too late to turn back.

You had parked your car several blocks away and were now on foot. Driving this far into the countryside was new to you. Hopefully, you wouldn't have to drive this far here again. It never failed, Namjoon always managed to fuck something up.

There wasn't a shred of doubt in your mind. You knew this would work. It had taken hours of relentless searching to find the proper incantation. You had to dig through the witch's files for days before you found anything remotely close to what you needed.

Witchcraft was something you had promised yourself to avoid messing with. You always left it to Namjoon. You did the stabbing and he did the casting. You were on your own, and you were the only person willing to help your poor fuck up of a best friend.

You glanced around the road, eyeing the sides carefully. You gathered several decent sized rocks. You dropped the bag cautiously onto the dirt and kneeled. You adjusted each rock until they formed a somewhat circular shape. You drew each ingredient out of your bag and placed them in the middle of the circle, one by one. You grabbed a pebble and used it to sketch out the sigil into the dirt. You had to sketch delicately around the rock formation, the last thing you wanted was to mess up the ceremony.

Next, you brought out six onyx colored candles. You pulled the lighter from your jacket, the dirt crunching beneath your weight as you moved. The flame flickered to life, nearly fading out because of the howling wind. You lit the first candle, using your body to block the wind. The candles were specifically created for summoning. They endlessly burn, and are entirely unaffected by nature, unlike your lighter. You returned the lighter back to its place and used the one candle you had burning to light the others.

Next was the picture of you.

You pricked yourself with the needle, squeezing and massaging your finger to try and make the blood flow out easier. The drop landed directly onto the picture of you, and you felt more queasy than ever.

You cleared your throat, staring down at the dancing flames of the candles. The energy is already coursing through the pages, waiting to be unleashed. You can feel it humming through the thick leather. A shaky sigh escapes you when you tightly grasp the book and yank it from the confines of your bag. The book practically leaps into your arms and flings itself open. It violently splits open, the pages hastily whirl by on their own. It was as if the book had a mind of its own.

It seemed... eager... to be used.

The howling wind and the tossing of the grass seemed to still when the first words parted from your lips. You inhaled deeply, trying to focus. The words were familiar, you had repeated them to yourself for hours on end, trying to learn the spell. Though you spoke in broken Latin, you knew the words were transmitting. The text began to glow, and the book grew hotter with each sentence you finished.

The ground began to rumble, and you knew the creature was being torn from its throne. Your throat tightened, and you felt tears begin to poke from the corners of your eyes. It was so much worse being the individual to actually summon a demon. Rarely, when you were observing Namjoon complete a ritual, did you get sick. You always knew that, watching Namjoon get sick. You never realized entirely how sickening the process really was though. It was draining, mentally and physically. It felt as if you were right on the brink of death.

You choked out the last word and threw the book from your hands. The feeling of your skin sizzling and melting away made you hiss. You grabbed your arm, desperate to stop the pain. The book was entirely illuminated, glowing painfully bright. You wrench your eyes closed, the wind was roaring now, and you were convinced the entire planet was rocking back and forth.

Then it was calm.

The book dimmed, the candles simultaneously blew out, and the wind blew away the sketch in the dirt. Your picture was entirely singed, along with the ingredients. The rocks had sunk into the ground at some point during the ritual. The only thing that was left was burnt ashes. More importantly, your skin hadn't dissolved away. You stand and dust yourself off. You glance around, expecting to see someone standing around, watching you with curiosity.

You contemplated leaving, going and finding a place where you could have a couple of drinks... Or maybe a nest full of vamps you could stake.

Anything to get your mind off of this.

You pluck up the book and your bag. Everything felt different, but not in ways that you could name. It was such a slight shift in the atmosphere it was almost unnoticeable. For a fleeting moment, you worried if you had pronounced something wrong and unleashed something terrible out into the world.

You waited.

Unlike the person you were summoning, you were not immortal. You couldn't sit here and stare blankly at the sky until he showed up. At this rate, you were going to die before he arrived.

You persisted anyway.

You were determined to fix Namjoon's mess, even though he was the one to dig his own grave. You stood there like the ugly girl at prom, waiting for the guy who promised to be her date to show up.

"Sorry, I was running late. It's not often someone calls me directly from my throne."

You twirl around, nearly tripping over your own feet as you try and turn. Features scrunching up in confusion, you examine the man head to toe. How the fuck had you managed to summon an angel? The dark, doe eyes twinkle in amusement, and he grins.

"What? Were you expecting my horns to be larger? I didn't want to frighten you, delicate mortal."

You froze, and your heart lurched. It was finally settling in. You had just summoned the fucking King of Hell. His tall, lean figure didn't intimidate you. Not in the slightest. If it wasn't for the horns and the occasional shifting of his eye color, he could pass as someone your age. In no way, shape, or form did he appear to even be an ancient demon. The power, raw and unadulterated, radiating off of him was the off-putting part. The demon glanced towards the ashes, eyeing them carefully. He reaches towards the ashes and pinches a bit of the ash between his fingers.

He blows the dust from his fingers and raises his eyebrows. "A deal?" he asks. He eyes you suspiciously and wipes away the smear of ash off. "You waited specifically until Hallows' Eve to do this. Didn't you?"

As if you were a video, someone had taken the remote and stopped you from moving or speaking. You were on pause. You didn't know how to answer, should you lie? Should you tell the truth? The demon takes a step towards you, coming closer than you were comfortable with. You catch a glimpse of red in his eyes, and then it's gone.

He smirks, "I see. You purposely waited, just to summon little old me. This must not be a regular deal then. Oh. Don't bother trying to lie to me, because it obviously won't work."

You mentally give yourself a good shake and try to focus on your objective. You could probably knife this bastard just as easily as any other demon.

He rolls his eyes, "Mortals, all of you are so feeble-minded. Tell me, what is it you want? True love? Fortune? An extra cup size? Go ahead, sweetheart. This is always the busiest night in Hell."

"I want you to stop whichever one of your little minions it is from wearing my best friend. I only want him sane, completely alive, and back where he belongs," you hiss.

The worst thing is having someone incredibly powerful laughing directly in your face.

Which is exactly what he did. The King cackles until he doubles over, appearing to be in pain from laughing so hard. You internally cringe, and the repulsive feeling returns to your gut. He really found you.. amusing. You were concerned about the well being of your friend. Yet, this asshole was laughing.

You have to really resist the urge to whip your knife from your side and gank him right then and there.

"Not a problem, sweetheart," he raises his head, the grin still on his lips. He circles around you like a vulture, inspecting every inch of you. "Before we talk payment... Tell me, how did he end up as a vessel for a demon of mine?"

Truth be told, you weren't entirely sure. Namjoon wouldn't let some demon merely hop in his body and take it for a ride. Also, he hated messing with demons in the first place. You had kind of came to the conclusion that he had somehow been tricked, or forced. The last time you barged into his house, he had black eyes and threw you against a wall with simply a wave of his hand. He didn't answer a single question and only rummaged through his files. Maybe the demons wanted information? There was no way for you to be entirely sure.

He hums almost inaudibly, seemingly thinking. He had read your thoughts again.

"Have you considered the idea that maybe your friend wanted to be a vessel?"

Before he even finished the sentence, you were already shaking your head. "Why? Why would he want to ride backseat while someone else controls his body? That doesn't make sense."

He crosses his arms and shrugs. "How will you pay me?" his tone lowers, and he stops in front of you once more. You hold your breath as he nears you again. From this angle, you can see that innocent glimmer even better.

You frown, "Well, my soul. That's usually the price, correct?"

"Indeed," he hums. "But you can't sell me your soul when you don't have one, to begin with."

The metal jewelry glinted just enough to catch your attention. You focus your attention on the silver adorning his wrist, mulling over his words. You never played around with this kind of thing. Unless someone appeared in the middle of the night and siphoned it from you, he was lying. It wouldn't surprise you in the slightest if he really was lying. He was the King of Hell, and lying was what he did best. He tilts his head to the side, pouting.

"You don't believe me?" He asks.

He sighs and then the pout drops from his features. "The names Jungkook, by the way. Constantly referring to me as the King gets annoying after a while," he snorts.

You go silent, unsure of what to do, or what to believe. You were already low on cash, so you definitely weren't going to be able to give him a regular payment. Besides, a part in the back of your mind knew he wouldn't want it anyway. "How am I alive if I don't have a soul? How did I lose my soul?" you demand. Surprise flashes across his features, and it vanishes as quickly as it arrived.

"You think it's a big contract, just like every other mortal on Earth, don't you?" He asks in a mocking manner. "Technically, yes. You can lose your soul due to a big contract, similar to a contract that would be made here."

He pauses and steps away. He places his hand underneath his chin, trying to formulate a better way to explain his thoughts.

"It's a series of little agreements and every little fuck up counts. As for the how you're alive part, you can live a perfectly normal life even if your soul is gone. You're not unique, you're just the same as any other regular mortal. Until you die, that is. Then you're destined to fall straight into the pit."

You reflect on the haunting words, trying to think of every single thing you had done wrong. The list was honestly quite long at this point. You had done several horrible things in the past, trying to save your own ass from the fire. Only to learn that you were destined to fall right into it anyway. You never harmed animals, you never hurt anyone that didn't deserve to be hurt. You thought you were doing the moral thing.

"The devil has a thousand faces, sweetheart. Sorry to break the news this way," he mutters, not looking sorry in the slightest.

"If that's the case, then how do any souls get sold at all?"

The corner of his mouth twists in irritation. He clearly didn't appreciate the number of questions you had for him.

"Not everyone fucks up as easily as you have. Some souls simply are worth more than others, but most others just make fewer mistakes. Even if their essence is close to being fully corrupted, we usually will accept it. That is... if the deal is over something minor. You though, you're asking me to bother one of my own, and there's pretty much nothing to gain from you. No profit."

"Pathetic," he sneers condescendingly. "It's been years since I've seen a mortal completely corrupt themselves all on their own. You're lucky, though. I'm willing to fetch your little friend if you're willing to pay a different price."

Jungkook takes a confident stride towards you. You fought the urge to take a step back and start sprinting in the other direction. Jungkook cupped your face, gently brushing his thumbs against your cheekbones. Your cheeks scorched with embarrassment. Your mind clouded, and it became hard to think with him so near. Your face feels frozen, but burns where he caresses you gently. It took a moment before you could form a coherent thought.

"What's the price?" you ask, your stomach in knots.

He grins, "I get to fuck you. Since I've laid eyes on you, I've had an overwhelming desire to pin you down and whisper the filthiest things into your ear. I want to hear you whine and whimper until the pleasure becomes too much for you to handle. I think that's a fair deal, don't you?"

You felt lightheaded. The slightest breeze could come along and tip you over with ease. "Right now?" you murmur,  voice failing you. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog surrounding your mind and vision.

"No, Y/N. I will come to collect my payment soon."

You want to ask how he knows your name, but you figure it's a demon thing. Besides, you probably couldn't force the words out of your mouth at the moment anyway. His fingers remain on your face, and he didn't break eye contact. He was probably doing this on purpose, trying to lure you into a contract. Too bad for him, he was only wasting his energy. You were going to say yes either way. It was the eye contact, or scent, or.. something! It was him, he was the culprit making you feel this way.

"Yes," you spit out, finding it to be a struggle to make your voice go louder than a whisper.

The urge to throw yourself in his arms and let him care for you for the rest of eternity burns strongly inside of you, but you suppress it. It was his energy, you didn't even know him or anything about him. He presses his body into you eagerly, lips closing in on yours. His figure was so much warmer, compared to your mortal frame. It was thrilling, but terrifying considering you were so close to something that could easily snap you in two. Warmth spreads from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

There was a swirl of indescribable emotions in your chest when the two of you broke apart. The kiss didn't last near as long as you wished it had. He stepped away from you, and you knew the deal was sealed.

He turns on his heel and marches away. The fog dissipates, the more distance there is between the two of you. There's another strange warmth, and it's creeping it's way up your arm. You roll up your sleeve with slightly cloudy vision, searching for the cause of the feeling. Right below the bend of your elbow is a mark. It materializes into a branded mark, and the symbol is easily recognizable. It's the sigil you drew to summon him. He had stuck a claim on you.

Your head darts up when you hear a violent cough. On the ground, a few feet away from you, is Namjoon. The sigil etched into your skin and every thought of Jungkook disappeared from your mind.

It had been a week since that night, and Namjoon was still pissed. He wouldn't admit it, but his actions spoke volumes. There had been no sign of Jungkook, leaving you regularly on edge. The mark scorched into your skin was obnoxious. At night, you would wake up, convinced someone had put your arm in a boiling pot of water.

"What's next?" Namjoon asked, reaching for one of the flasks on the bottom shelf. He shifts the basket on his arm and starts to stroll along again. You followed behind Namjoon like a lost puppy. "Oil of Abramelin," you responded, eyeing the list carefully.

When Namjoon didn't acknowledge you, you tried to pry once more.

"You can get that here?"

Namjoon kept his back turned to you, but you knew he was rolling his eyes. The building was like a maze, and the fluorescent lights above probably gave away every skin imperfection you had. There was a moment of silence, and then Namjoon sighed. "Humans who want to meddle in the dark arts can't buy anything here."

You frowned, definitely still pissed. You bite your lip, wanting to make a snide remark back, but also not wanting to see a Namjoon meltdown in public. Everything in the store seemed antique. Each item seemed crammed onto the shelf rather than place artistically. The painted text on the aisle directory signs was peeling away.  

Only chunks of words were recognizable, but it didn't help in the slightest. All of the products appeared to be scattered throughout the store carelessly. So, the signs wouldn't have been much help regardless.

Namjoon led you further into the shop, and you could tell the rear of this place rarely was used. Dust had gathered on pretty much every surface available. Even the spiders had abandoned the back of the shop. Their silk webs were now another collector of dust and pollen. Namjoon ignored the cobwebs, plucking thing randomly off of the shelves as he passed them.

"Next?" Namjoon asked, stopping abruptly. You fling your arms out in front of you, trying to avoid crashing into him. You stabilize and fumble with the list.

"Fulgurite," you read, squinting at the word in confusion. "Whatever that is."

Before Namjoon could completely twist around again, you lightly hooked your fingers into the back of his shirt. He studied you with a puzzled expression, "What?"

Feeling awkward, you release his shirt and let your hand drop to your side. "How many times have I apologized already?"

The question comes off slightly harsh, although you don't intend for it to sound that way. You didn't care though, Namjoon would be way too willing to hold this grudge against you for as long as he could. Namjoon glanced around as if he was expecting to see other customers nearby. It's deserted except for the ancient cashier. She was most likely hard of hearing anyhow.

"We've already been through this," he retorted, dropping his voice low.

"Yeah, but-"

You swallowed, trying to force the words to come out of your throat. It became hard to make out the details of the room, and the features of Namjoon. A wave of heat coursed through your veins, starting with the mark. Your ears popped, and the deep voice calling your name went muffled. Through blurred vision, you could see Joon wave his hand in front of your face. Nothing you did stopped the warmth rising in your chest. You buckle over, and you feel cool hands grab you by your shoulders. Namjoon does his best to guide you to the floor as safely as possible.

Then Namjoon's soothing hands disappear. You're drifting. There's no floor underneath you, nothing you can grab onto, and the weight of your clothes is missing. The fear, the worry, it has departed too. You feel abnormally calm, despite what had just happened. You unclench your eyes, startled to see an unfamiliar sky above you. You raised yourself from the bed, breath hitching in your throat.

Jungkook sat, perched right beside you on the bed. His mouth erupts into a sinister grin, and he greets you. "Welcome to Hell."

You were in a room, not outside, you concluded. The ceiling above resembled a night sky. There was something about the way the lights twinkled that made you feel as if it wasn't real. After a few more moments of gazing at the faux sky, your eyes drifted to Jungkook. Jungkook, the reality you didn't want to face. "Hello," you murmur, almost inaudibly.

"You don't sound very happy to see me," he remarks.

Namjoon comes to mind, you envision him on his knees in the shop. He was probably baffled by how you managed to vanish right from his arms. You had absolutely no reason to be happy to see Jungkook. Jungkook shifting on the bed catches your attention. He smirks and crosses his arms, "Oh, I see. You're upset because I interrupted the fight between you and your little boy-toy."

You scoffed, "Namjoon's like a brother to me, it's not like that. Besides, he's obviously not interested, and neither am I."

"Oh, Y/N..." he trails off, shaking his head. At some point, Jungkook had moved closer to you. He snakes his fingers up your arm and to the bend of your elbow. Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment you can't breathe. Jungkook brushes his thumb over the mark, and you swear little sparks shoot up your arm. "How does Namjoon feel about you selling your body to me?"

You lower your eyes, and the deafening silence answers the question. Jungkook tilts your chin up, so you are no longer looking away from him. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

He already knew the answer, but he wanted you to confirm it. You hesitantly shook your head, "Not what I sold."

The arm he was tracing over the mark with slipped itself around your waist. The grip around your waist tightened, and you could feel Jungkook's energy shift. "Y/N, if you genuinely don't want to do this, I won't force you. Tell me now, though, and I'll leave you alone."

You disregarded the sound of your heart beating tensely, trying to think through this carefully. Jungkook called to you softly, "Y/N, I hope you realize I am a very selfish and greedy person. This can be a one-time thing, or we can do it often. Know that I have no plans to share you with someone else though."

This was your chance to say no. From past experiences, you knew you were prone to desiring a relationship, craving the romantic things. Casual sex in the past never really stayed that for you. He could never love you back if you were to fall for him. Yes, Jungkook had the decency to ask you if you wanted this or not. That didn't mean he knew how to love another.

The easy solution was just to say no. Why would you take that route though? You could decide later if you were going to take a gamble at doing this again... For now, you were not going to miss this opportunity. Overcome with desire, you breathe out a faint 'yes.'

Jungkook dipped his head down and kissed you deeply. Your eyes fell closed, and all you could feel was warmth. The warmth of his mouth on yours, the heat from the mark, and the warmth of just his very being. The intoxication that Jungkook had brought upon you last time returned. There wasn't a doubt about it, the King of Hell already had you wrapped around his finger.

You whimper when Jungkook pushes your lips apart with his tongue. He explored your mouth with the intent to claim. He was conveying his message from earlier to you again, he was not going to be willing to share your body with another. Every inch of you was now his.

He broke the kiss, allowing you to catch your breath. Jungkook went for your jaw, sloppily trailing kisses down to your neck. It took a few moments before you realized Jungkook was simultaneously pushing you down onto the bed while marking your neck. He removed himself from your neck with a frustrated growl. Jungkook raised his hand, and the tip of his finger began to glow. With a single touch to your shirt, the material crumbled and dissolved into thin air.

You gasped, shocked by the sudden actions. Jungkook didn't merely stop at your shirt. He proceeded until you were completely exposed and on display for him. His palm found your breast, his fingers massaging it in a way that had your core throbbing. The wet heat between your thighs was growing more and more with each action. He reached for your nipple, gently tugging and rubbing it between his fingertips. This provokes a whine out of you, and he hums contently. His concentration turned to the other breast, and he repeated the same steps.

"You're so fucking pretty," Jungkook uttered, nipping at your sensitive chest once more.  The kisses return, but this time, they're much more rushed. His attention trails lower, down past your ribs and all the way to your thighs. Jungkook parts your legs and moves between them. He resumes his path of kisses, now that your legs are parted.

Although you should expect it, you don't. A sharp moan rips itself from your throat when Jungkook finds your clit. He takes the tender nub into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it in different patterns. You withered underneath his touch, panting wildly. This feeling was so much different compared to your previous partner's attempts. Jungkook had a skilled, very well practiced tongue. He undoubtedly knew what he was doing. Jungkook brings his hands to your hips, striving to still your trembling form.

Jungkook licks a stripe up your slit, and you mindlessly let your hand drift to his hair. You wind your fingers into his hair, and the angle he looks up at you from exposes his glistening forehead. His furrowed eyebrows and the look of concentration on his face made you ecstatic. "Does this feel good, baby?"

"F-Fuck, yes," you whimpered. A squeak escaped you when Jungkook slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly starts to work you open. Your fingers tightened in Jungkook's hair, causing him to groan. He dipped another finger into your wet heat, producing a loud noise from you. You do your best to silence your cries, but with such a cloudy mind, it's a struggle.

Jungkook seems to sense that you're holding back, so he doubles his efforts. "Such a tight little slut, you're taking my fingers so well," he smirks, knowing damn well what his words do to you. He sinks his fingers in and out of you repeatedly, working them faster than before.  "...I can't wait to see how you take my cock."

Not being able to hold back any longer, you let your hips roll to meet the thrusts of his fingers. You were so slick and soaked, at this point there was no way the sheets weren't tainted. Jungkook went back to lapping at your clit, slamming his fingers in and curling them. Your back arched from the bed, sharp pleasure shooting up your spine. Jungkook had hit the sweet spot inside of you, but your brain was so muddled it took you a moment to figure out what he was doing.

His tongue circling and twirling around your sensitive clit grew faster. Jungkook added a third finger, making sure you were nice and fucked out for him. It was beginning to be too much, you didn't know how much longer you could last. You try to cry out Jungkook's name, try to warn him your about to tip over the edge, but you can't. It's too late. You clenched around his fingers, rolling your hips and wailing out his name.

He helps you ride out your orgasm, before drawing himself away from your soaked core. You expected the fogginess to lessen, instead of growing worse. You struggle, trying to scramble upwards. You're so, so tired, but you're dying to continue.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook queries, confusion written all over his features.

"Returning the favor-"

Jungkook puts a hand in front of you, motioning for you to slow down. He stands, letting his clothes disintegrate and disappear. He shakes his head, "You don't seem to understand who makes the decisions around here, but okay. You want me? You'll get me."

You peel yourself from the bed and drop to your knees obediently. Your face was perfectly level to Jungkook's long, throbbing cock. It was standing proudly, a thick vein wrapped from the top to the underside. The way Jungkook was glaring down at you had you feeling eager and more submissive than ever.  You scooted closer, opening your mouth for him. "Good girl," he hums.  

He slid himself over your lips a couple of times in a teasing manner. After a few moments, he finally pushes himself into your mouth. He moved slowly, not stopping until he hit the back of your throat.

You linked your hands behind your back, letting Jungkook have full control of the pace. His fingers met the back of your head, guiding you up and down his length.

"You little slut, you've had plenty of practice, hm? You're taking me pretty well," he grunted, drawing himself out of you until his head was back at your lips. You ignored the ache in your knees, knowing damn well you were going to have a horrible carpet burn later.  Jungkook hisses in pleasure, "Is this how you tainted your soul? By sucking as many dicks as you could so you could become a pro?"

The words made your insides burn once more, just when you thought you were sated.

You were anxious to please, so you hollowed your cheeks against him. You went to bob your head, but Jungkook held you still. You gazed up and met his eyes, causing him to groan. A thick band of sweat was developing on his forehead. His hair was beginning to stick to his forehead. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on breathing. You hear him murmur something along the lines of, 'fucking gorgeous.' You can't make out the rest of the sentence, too concentrated on controlling your breath.

Your throat tightened around him, and for the first time in the session, you gagged. Jungkook yanked you off of him, and you gasped for air. You opened your mouth again, despite your aching jaw. He slid into your mouth with ease, meeting the back of your throat again. This time he was rougher, thrusting quicker and quicker. You knew he was getting close, and he did too. He gave a few more thrusts and then slipped out from between your lips.

You craved Jungkook more than ever now. Lust surged in you, loins stirring. His tone and his harsh words triggered something inside of you that you didn't really understand.  Without speaking, you knew what Jungkook craved from you. You rose and crawled onto the bed. You were correct, your knees were fucked. You didn't pay any more attention to it, needing all of your focus to go to Jungkook.

Jungkook chuckled darkly, a knowing look in his eyes. His voice grows closer and soon enough, he's right behind you. "You're this excited to be fucked by a demon, I can't believe it. I'm a monster. I'm the fucking King of Hell, and yet here you are. You're presenting yourself to me, practically begging for it."

He planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before rearing his hand back and slapping your ass. You glanced back in shock. One of his hands were busy, pumping up and down his cock. The other hand cracked against your skin, extracting a yelp from you. Jungkook positioned himself over you, and you arched your back into him.

"Please," you whine quietly. Your voice was unsteady, and there was nothing you could do to control it. Jungkook doesn't reply at first, deliberating on his next move. "Are you this eager for all cock, or am I just special?" he growls, delivering another smack to your ass.

"Yours! Only your cock!" you cry out, feeling tears begin to build up. His free hand roamed from your ass to your flooded heat. He cupped your core gently, and you jerked lightly. You were still a bit sensitive from the earlier orgasm. His fingers find your clit, and he flicks his wrists in a circular motion a few times. Just as quickly as the touches came, they disappeared. Your walls uncontrollably grasped and tensed around nothing.

You need him to fill you to the brim already. You needed him to fuck you until you couldn't walk or see straight. Right when your patience started running out, he puts his cock to your entrance. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to think of any other dick than mine. Your poor little boyfriend will never be able to make you feel this way."

You were so worked up, at this point you didn't bother to argue that Namjoon wasn't your boyfriend. He moved his cock up your slit, brushing against your clit. You wiggled excitedly, stomach in knots. The head of his cock found your entrance again. He leans his weight onto you and enters you.

"I'm going to ruin you," he barks, bringing his hand down on your backside. The initial thrusts are slow like he's testing how far your depths go. He was also most likely giving your walls time to adjust to his size. You don't hold back your noises now, letting them spring wildly from your lips. You're glad you had already orgasmed once, so you were slick. This made the glide and stretch so much better.

Then, Jungkook yanks himself from you almost entirely. When he thrusts back in,  it's with nearly enough strength to knock you into the headboard. Your arms trembled, trying to hold yourself up. Jungkook slams into you again, and for a split second, you think you're going to fall face first into the silk sheets. Jungkook's hand travels up to your shoulder, and he helps hold you steady.

"Fuck," you spit out, heavily heaving. Jungkook keeps his promise, each thrust was going to ruin you. He snaps his hips up into you at a ruthless speed. Eventually, your arms do fail on you. Your face was buried into the sheets, along with your fingers twisted into them. "I don't think I've ever felt a pussy as tight as yours, fuck," he rumbles.

Jungkook places his other hand on your shoulder. He uses both arms to yank you up, and to his chest. You're lifted off the bed now, and your legs are thrown over Jungkook's thick thighs. Jungkook never stops pounding into you, although you're pretty much sitting in his lap. His hand travels from his shoulder, past your collarbones, and to your throat.

He wraps his hand gently around it, ever so slightly constricting your breathing. You snap your hips down onto him the best you can. Your tits bounce lewdly, and you can do nothing but helplessly moan. Jungkook seemed to like this angle, not wanting to release you or your throat. You rotated your hips and did your best to grind down onto him with equal passion. He releases your throat but decides to hook his arms under your own. He lets you lean forwards slightly, so the only thing keeping you from smacking your face onto the bed is his arms hooked around your shoulders.

The coil in your tummy was threatening to snap, but you urged it away. There was a tiny sense of control you had before, but now there was none. Jungkook had inhuman strength and could toss you around as he pleased. Jungkook is close to your ear, panting heavily. Somehow, he knows. "That's right, baby. You don't come until I tell you that you can. You're fucking mine."

Jungkook knew your body so well. He knew how to press your buttons and how to play with you flawlessly. He found the spot inside of you that he had previously discovered with his fingers. He angled his body so he could repeatedly jab his cock into that place. A scream erupts from your sore throat, and you try to find something to grasp onto.

You find nothing, though, and let your hands fall limply to your sides. Your limbs came back to life though when the pads of Jungkook's fingers find your clit. You nearly come on the spot but manage to choke it back. Your hands clamped around his wrist, trying to make him stop circling your sensitive nub. There was no way, you weren't going to last. There wasn't a single sign he was planning to slow down, either.

"I'm close, baby. Don't worry," Jungkook snarls. His words come off as harsh, but also endearing. His thrusts turned sloppy, and you knew he was telling the truth. No matter how messy, he was still more skilled than any other man you had ever been with.

"Come, come for me like the good girl you are," he orders, hips giving their final few jerks. You couldn't deny him even if you wanted to. The blistering, white-hot heat courses through you. He fills you immediately, and you were slightly surprised by the unfamiliar feeling. Never had someone stuffed you so full. Or filled you at all. Jungkook goes to pull out, and most of the liquid flows out from your walls.

He positions you carefully on the bed. You blink slowly, entirely spent. "You did so well for me, Y/N. Thank you," Jungkook coos. You can't see his facial expression, because you're too tired to open your eyes. Jungkook cleaned you up the best he could, and soon enough you passed out with him realizing it.

You crack your eyes open, yawning contently. There was no alarm obnoxiously beeping, forcing you to wake up. It was merely sunlight seeping through your curtains and the sound of the birds outside chirping. Jungkook must have brought you home while you were resting. Jungkook, wait? What?

Memories of last night flood you, and you raise straight up. The memories were slightly blurry, almost like you had been drunk. You frown, and after a minute or so, it becomes clear. You had held up your end of the deal.

Something still seems wrong though. You drag yourself from your bed and glance in the mirror. There are no visible bruises on you or your neck. You notice you're wearing the exact same clothes you were before Jungkook had destroyed them. After a minute or two of staring at yourself, you think you know what's wrong.

You roll up your sleeve, the mark was still there.

Jungkook had forgotten to remove it. Fuck.

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 15

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvel-forever-17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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The first practice session with the lightbulb wasn’t a total bust, Rhonda swore to herself. She blew through a good chunk of the playlist, enjoyed a lot of the music, and had been able to make the bulb flicker with more regularity. Some of the flickers were even reasonably bright, but she couldn’t keep it steadily lit. If nothing else, the music kept her from getting too frustrated and smashing the bulb on the floor. Slipping it back in its box, Rhonda decided to call it a night before her husband came looking for her, hoping she could keep him from asking to see her progress.

Retracing their steps back toward the kitchen, Rhonda took in details about the house as if they were new--and some details were new. Old wallpaper had been replaced in some spots, mismatched but with the closest replica prints anyone could find. In some hall that had classrooms, Rhonda walked by a big glass case and had to stop. 

It was her. 

There was a large framed photo of her from her earliest days as official X-Men. It had been taken eleven or twelve years ago. Younger Rhonda was beaming proudly in her yellow uniform, striking a pose that was as noble and heroic as it was plain goofy. One hand was on her hip and the other straight over her head, blasting an arc of blue-green lightning, and one leg stretched in a high kick with pointed toes. Her hair was pulled back in a dyed blue-green ponytail--with bangs.

“They had to pick a picture with bangs, huh?” Rhonda muttered.

Neatly folded on a shelf under the photo was her spare uniform. The case was a memorial. The photo was flanked by plaques that told how Rhonda Reese Rasputin was “lost in the line of duty” and some poetic phrasing about knowing the cost of mutant safety and how important it is to be part of X-Men. Rhonda rolled her eyes. “Who wrote this? Fucking Scott?”

A few of her personal items were in the glass case--some black leather dance shoes, sketches Piotr had drawn of her, and a lot of photos of her with friends and students she tutored. Lots of smiles, lots of shenanigans. There was one from Halloween one year where Piotr had worn a long blonde wig, a pink dress, and carried Rhonda in a bag with a puppy ear headband and a black nose painted on her face. She remembered how hard she’d had to convince him to be Paris Hilton, and when he finally agreed, she used it as proof that he liked her and asked him on their first date. There was also one of her favorite photos from their wedding. They had their pieces of cake and Rhonda stretched on tiptoe to shove a piece in Piotr’s mouth. There was buttercream frosting smeared on half her face; Piotr had tried to give her too big a piece, and half of it had fallen right back onto the plate.

Rhonda chewed her lip, emotions surging, but hard to identify. Was she touched? Angry? Sick? Betrayed? She couldn’t even decide if she felt one emotion or everything at once. She blew a big huff and kept walking for the kitchen.

--

The next few days followed a pattern. Rhonda tried to be social, but sometimes someone would say or do something or move or stand in a certain way that made her lungs freeze, ready to fight. Then, humiliated, she would hide in her room, the gardens, or her practice room for a few hours. Every day, she spent time with that damn lightbulb, and every day didn’t quite get it to stay lit. At night, she would have some quiet time with Piotr in their bedroom before taking a sedative and fall into (hopefully) dreamless sleep. The times she skipped or forgot the sedative, she would wake up in a cold sweat, trying to fight Piotr until she remembered where she was. The bruises, scabs, and calluses faded, the dark circles under her eyes lifted, her coloring started coming back. She looked more like a person and less like some creature that hadn’t seen the sun in half a decade. But the general hardness in her expression remained.

Piotr did his best. He spoke with their closest friends and X-Men teammates and gave them a brief rundown of what she had been through, so she wouldn’t have to answer the same questions over and over. He laid down a few new rules:

If you’re a telepath, keep your mind a mile away from Rhonda’s. For the love of everything good, if you do read something in her mind, don’t comment on it.

Don’t startle her. She will fight.

Don’t ask about the tattoos or scars.

Don’t comment on how strong and gifted she used to be, or how she’s lost her gifts now.

These things seemed like common sense, but after the incident with Cable, and how Scott tried to push for a full debrief directly from Rhonda, Logan tried to crack a joke about her tattoos, and Kurt tried to prank her out of old habit, and nearly got a shiv in his gut for it, Piotr felt a need to establish some rules to make things easier on everyone. Also, no one knew when she made or started carrying a shiv around the house, or where she kept it on her person. 

A mission or two came up for the X-Men, but Colossus didn’t go. He felt it was still too soon to leave his wife for an indefinite length of time. So, they managed without him.

Of the veteran X-Men, Ororo was the most helpful. She and Rhonda were close friends, and used to train together all the time. With some persuading, Rhonda agreed to let Ororo work with her in the makeshift practice room, but she still wouldn’t set foot in the Danger Room.

“What is it, Rhon?” Ororo asked during a practice session. “Yesterday you were so close to having a steady light, and today it seems like you’re not focusing.” She kept a respectful distance, hands on her hips in a relaxed posture. 

Rhonda puffed out her cheeks in a sigh and turned the lightbulb over in her fingertips. She struggled to find words, “It’s just...I didn’t think about how hard it would be. Coming home.”

Ororo said nothing, patiently waiting for her friend to continue. 

“I didn’t even know how long I had been gone, and I come home and Piotr’s got a girlfriend and he seemed happy with her. And Ellie’s an adult now, and I just...is there even room for me in these people’s lives anymore?” She paced the room. “It’s just so messy and fucked up, should I not have come home?”

Frowning with concern, Ororo tilted her head and reached to touch Rhonda’s shoulder, “Oh, honey, you can’t think like that. Listen, nobody is happier to have you home than Piotr and Ellie. And me. You have to know that.”

Rhonda stared past the bulb in her hand at the floor. When she met Ororo’s eyes again, she said, “Come see.” With a beckoning twist of her hand, she led Ororo to the glass case that had the memorial.

They looked at it together, Rhonda taking in new details she had missed before. Near her dance shoes was her favorite hoodie she used to wear to warm up for dance. There were a handful of mix CDs--from back when people did that. One of the photos was of her and Ellie as a kid, when they had painted their nails black together. Rhonda clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth before saying quietly, “The other day, Piotr told me he will always regret that he gave up looking for me.” She tapped a fingernail on the glass at the photos of her early X-Men days. “But it wasn’t just Piotr. Everyone gave up on me. You all were picking out flowers and an empty casket to bury and what crappy pictures to put in this thing and I was--I fucking--” she huffed, then sniffed. “I fell for some shitty deals, is what I did. This inmate or that guard promised to get a message outside for me, and they didn’t, they were never going to.” Rhonda shook her head, voice dripping with venom. “I still fell for it every. Single. Time. Like a fucking idiot.” 

Ororo noticed the lightbulb in Rhonda’s hand as it hung at her side. It was glowing, and only getting brighter.

Rhonda read from one of the plaques, “The worst day on the job is when not everyone makes it home.” She rolled her eyes, “Please. Did Scott write this?”

“I did,” Ororo replied, hurt.

Rhonda slapped her free hand flat on the glass, mouth twitching. “I’m still living the worst day on the job! The one time I really needed the giant X on my chest to protect me--” she rapped her knuckles on the glass in front of her old uniform, her volume climbing “It didn’t. In fact, it made things worse.”

She raised her right hand, only now noticing the bulb was glowing bright enough to make Ororo squint. Pushing up her sleeve with her left hand, to show the Xs on her forearm, she shouted, “Do you see these fucking--”

The lightbulb shattered, sparks flying.

Ororo was quick to shield her face, but a few shards of the glass nicked Rhonda’s cheek, only narrowly missing her eyes. Blood beaded and trickled in thin rivulets from the nicks. They both froze, looking from the metal fitting in Rhonda’s hand to the tiny shards on the floor to the big framed photo with the lightning spiking from her extended hand. 

“You lit it,” Ororo said.

Rhonda tossed the fitting into the trash can across the hall, scowling when she returned to the case. “I want my stuff out of here.”

Brushing back her white hair, Ororo nodded, “I think I have keys.” On her big key ring of work keys, she found the one that opened this case and slid the front panel open. 

While Rhonda snatched her dance shoes, hoodie, Piotr’s sketches, CDs, and most of the photos, Ororo made a small whirlwind just powerful enough to pick up the shards of the lightbulb to bring them to the trash as well. Rhonda was right behind her with the plaques and framed photo.

It hurt to see her friend so angry, even though she knew it wasn’t just about the plaques Ororo had written. She stopped her before she could shove them into the trash with a vengeance, “Wait.” She held out her hands for the plaques, and Rhonda begrudgingly handed them over. When she raised the photo to dump it, Ororo said, “Piotr picked that picture. He said it was his favorite.” Her eyes welled up with tears. Cradling the plaques in one arm, she swiped away tears with her free hand. “He told me that was the day he knew he was in love with you.”

Rhonda lowered the photo and looked at it again. Those bangs were terrible, the hair dye wasn’t fresh, but the young woman in the photo was so excited to work on a team and make the world safer for mutants, and to do it alongside her best friend and the man she loved. That young woman was so sure of her purpose, and nobody could shake her from it. Rhonda’s throat closed up as she fought to not let any tears slip. She didn’t mean to rage at her best friend like this, or trash her friends’ well-meaning sentiment. She was just tired of feeling broken and weak. After a few long breaths, she handed the photo over to Ororo. 

“No one would fault you for being angry,” Ororo watched Rhonda gather her things, and her moment of hesitation before grabbing the uniform. “We were wrong. We messed up. That hurts. But we’re doing our best now.” She sniffed and wiped away another streak of tears.

Rhonda nodded slowly. She took the rest of the photos from parties and tucked all the flat things between her hoodie and the dance shoes. The glass case was empty except for a little dust and a few dead spiders. “I’m done with memorials.”

That much was loud and clear. “I’ll put these somewhere else,” Ororo nodded. “What about your face?”

It took Rhonda a minute to realize her face was bleeding from when the glass hit her. She rolled her eyes and shrugged, “What’s another scar?” 

“Clean it at least, please, Miss Rub-Some-Dirt-In-It.” They both chuckled, then an encouraging smile spread over her face. “Hey Rhonda? You lit the bulb.”

Rhonda beamed, glancing away and back to Ororo before whispering, “Yeah,” as if saying it aloud would jinx it. She hugged her things to her chest, and headed back to her room.

[a-writing-bear]

[PruCan] Chapter 8: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/39297289

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

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Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU:  College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: Recreational Drugs & minor connotations of anxiety (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.) WITHIN THIS CHAPTER - Mentions of Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, Counseling, and anti-depressants. (please note I am NOT anti-meds.) Family Issues are implied.

Setting up his usual war zone of paint, He lamented over his still unfinished piece of a personal canvas. Matthew detailed a picture in his mind so vividly he felt as if he could see the finished canvas on the wall already but his hands seemed to fail him in actually creating it. Upon a haphazard tarp stood his easel and he took the once pearly off-white canvas he had nicked from the art department- his lecturer adored him so he doubts it would be missed- the canvas was already messy with unfinished splodges that seemed off and unlike his previous works. It had been like this for months. No matter how many strokes, whenever he worked on this personal painting it never came out right. Somehow paint would be spilt and he’d be left either in tears or in a bitter silence as he cleared up his disaster zone. In fact, he should probably do this in the department if he wanted to avoid fines for ruining his rented dorm again with such heavy duty acrylic- but he found solitude in doing his art somewhere privately his own. As the coloured bristles feather-kissed the scene once more Matthew focused on the strokes, as if each one was more important than the other, solving an intricate puzzle. It shaped up pleasantly as each new stroke made the blurry figures come to life; he had been painting a captured memory, nostalgic enough that if he decided to gift it to any of the subjects he had been trying to depict, they themselves would hopefully remember it well. He could still remember the damp grass and the beautiful budding petals of the bunches of bright tulips, himself sat in the open cargo of Tim’s family pickup truck with his back to the driver’s compartment, Alfred on the edge where the tailgate opened, dangling his legs off almost falling onto the gravelly road. Tim, was on his left, even seated he was taller than him. It was a childhood memory he can always remember. The dutch kid had been insistent of showing the twins his family’s Tulip crop when they had come to visit for the summer- and his mother had taken a photo in the excitement of all three of the boys. Matthew knew he could just ring his mother for the actual picture but his hand would rather create the piece itself. If only he could finish it.

He smiled to himself, that summer was one of the best- he hadn’t a problem in his head too much that season, besides his usual anxious thoughts, it was a peaceful summer. Tim would be embarrassed by this, but he knew in some way or another Laura would get her brother to frame it and displayed in their home. Matthew always loved how secretly stuck to his family Tim was, even going as far to rent a house for his siblings and himself rather than bunk along in the dorms or find other senior flatmates. Family loyalty. Even looking at the painted version of Alfred made him feel guilty. Did Alfred really think Matthew wanted to break their trust? Well obviously not if he was willing to come to his session today- there was a knock on the door,

“It’s Gilbert” came muffled through the door and Matthew cursed a little, was it 5 already? God, he should be counting the hours down till he had to see Dr Paisley, not absentmindedly getting lost.

“Hold on!” abandoning his artwork, he flung himself to the door but not before running his hand through his hair a little.

“Hey.”

“Hey to you too” Gilbert himself looked tired, exhausted even. How did Gilbert somehow pull off the tired look so well? Must be the jeans or the- focus Matthew. They both shuffled back in, Gilbert already rambling on about the animation and class schedules. Turns out they both have completely non-compliant timings, no wonder they have never met before: If it wasn’t a class that made them miss each other, it was Gilbert’s work schedule. A schedule which made Matthew’s eyebrows arch in amazement- Gilbert worked hard.

“I mean, I used to be the bender sort you know. The type of college hooligan to...go out a lot”, when asked Gilbert, explained absentmindedly as if he was talking to himself a little bit. “But, Right now we need the money so I can’t afford to go out recklessly like I used to...i don't think I want to either, it’s not my- not my thing anymore.”

They went off topic, Gilbert shoved some more director notes he had made during his work break as Matthew ploughed through some old storyboards, already sketching in a plain spare artbook. The albino looked like he was gonna collapse, and although Matthew offered him the desk seat he had been rejected with nothing more than a pat on the shoulder and a ‘just continue sketching I’m cool’.

“You can take a nap on my bed if you want, I took a nap at Alfred's room earlier today so it’s not messy, promise.” Gilbert light up at the offer and carried his thin legs to the bed, the dorm rooms were tiny and yet he had only just noticed Matthew’s little corner hosting a new work in progress. It couldn’t have been coursework, the Canadian finished that yesterday after the music incident. It was very detailed and although unfinished seemed as if a photograph had been printed out in the paint. With half of the canvas still quite plain he wondered of what Matthew had been thinking when painting. It was new in some splodges, the paint was still wet and fresh with paint pooling on the tarp and pots still scattered around the legs of the strong easel, but the dry almost discoloured details in the other corners suggested otherwise.

“Whose that? In the painting?”  his long fingers pointing at the tiny scarf figure, Matthew barely turned to even check what Gilbert was looking at.

“That’s younger Alf-”

“No, I know that’s your brother- the expression is on point, I mean the guy next to what I presume is fetus Mattie.”  after a faux indignant huff of ‘hey!’ at that comment, Matthew had swivelled in his chair to examine who he meant.

“O-oh That’s Tim, a childhood friend. He’s a senior here actually. You probably know him.” distractedly the Canadian went back to humming as he raked through Gilbert’s script notes and his own little sketches. Gilbert’s eyebrows arched and furrowed after hearing Tim’s name. Was he the same Tim who Matthew was texting earlier? Would it matter if it were him?

“...the name doesn’t ring a bell…” Gilbert let his thoughts drift away as he snuggled more into the soft bedding. The smell flowery detergent enveloped him, and Gilbert grinned; It felt heavenly to lie down here- almost more welcoming than his own bed. About an hour had passed as he had napped, when he woke up, distracted by the sound of soft strumming from the nearby table speakers. The room host had been playing what Gilbert recognised as some Mom Jeans song. Of course, he listens to mom jeans. He’s perfect, Gilbert thought.

“Hey Matthew...” his eyes wandered to stare as Matthew’s form was hunched over in creative focus, messy hair slightly dishevelled from obvious rest earlier.  Gilbert was going to attempt a little bit of chivalry, besides, Matthew had been so kind as to allow him to crash here; That deserved free dinner, right? Date or not...he could convince the other boy it was a platonic outing if he failed horrendously...which he doesn't.

“Gil- awake now? I can feel you overthinking from here dude.” Gilbert’s eyes fluttered now realising Matthew had responded to his distant Hey and was coming nearer to move onto the bed too,

“I just- Do you...I mean there's this really good diner in town- We could grab some food later cus I feel like I ow-” Matthew had turned in what could be perceived as shock but it melted away quickly as he was blushing in the brightest form of red; it was endearing and god Gilbert wished he could cup those cheeks and-

“That would be..!” The tone was so bright and loud and Gilbert’s heart jumped in premature celebration until he caught onto the last few bits of the reply “....actually fuck. I’m busy tonight Gil.” Apologising profusely aside, Gilbert could see a tinge of guilt wash over Matthew’s expression, secrets glinting under the faraway glaze. “In fact, I actually have somewhere to be soon and I should probably go.”

The silver-haired boy sat up, bunching his shirt in his hands; it sounded as if the Canadian was dying to avoid Gilbert right now Yet it would seem very improbable for such a kind-faced creature like Matthew to rudely do such a thing. Quick hands moved around the room as the blonde rushed round, hands searching for his hoodie that had been laid recklessly on the floor and a hasty pat down of pockets picking up the cheesy maple leaf keychain that latched onto his car keys. Matthew was about to run for the door before he realised his guest was still left on the bed very much puzzled,

“I just drafted some concept art, it’s not much right now- just scribbles. I’ll do the linework soon but if you want to stay in here for a bit t-that...that’s fine. I’ll uh not be back for a while. I really h-I have to go like right now.” The stumbling over words was nothing less than adorable but the complimenting panicky hands that fidgeted in a show of motion blurred movements really took the cake as he watched the man practically zoom out- a voice far from the doorway telling Gilbert to not forget to turn off the lights when he’s done. Alone with his thoughts, the air seemed thin and full of saddened merriment the longer he glared at his friend’s dorm room walls.

Matthew’s feet felt heavy and seemed to plummet with every step- his speedy getaway had slowed down significantly as he stood in front of Alfred’s dorm. He was not running away. He was just keeping track of time. His quick leave must of been really rude but his realisation over the time was more important- Dr Paisley didn’t appreciate late entrances. I’ll send him a text.

M @ 6:20 [Hey, Sorry didn’t mean to be rude. Just forgot I had to do something with Al. Ttyl?]

G @ 6:24 [Np. Tell the nerd I said hey! Ttyl, Imma sleep here forever man, your bed is amazing…]

The thought of Gilbert staying in his bed for even a second warmed his cheeks. Focus. His eyes ignored his phone as he went back to staring at his brother’s door down. Unsure hands knocked lightly as he heard quiet laughter drain out from underneath the wooden entrance.

“Come on in!” there was a quick shuffle as Matthew stammered in, not surprised to see Alfred closer what looked like a video call with Kiku. That’s adorable. He watched his brother fluster in closing the tab before snapping forward and clicking triumphantly towards his brother,

“Lemme just grab my stuff alright?” wallet and phone secured, the two wandered out humming, Car keys passed to Alfred as they slid into the slight wreck and worn out red car; Matthew almost insisted on driving as the other complained over the old ride but Alfred had already pushed it off and stuck his tongue out tryna reverse out the tiny university carpark. “So….what's on the agenda?” Careful eyes on the road as the day darkened, they made their way off campus. The red hoodie boy shrugged, leaning dismissively on the window as he watched buildings blur in the distance.

“It’s really just a catch-up and you get to sit in and then you’ve got to sign off for me.” The car had jerked to a stop as they reached a small private property, the building had been a renovated residence, and it’s awkward charm of brick build fit well in the surrounding suburban area. The clinic had been a reference from their family doctor, a private and less clinical-looking approach; Hospitals always made Matthew uneasy- a past of heavy hitting hockey accidents tend to make you regret hospital visits honestly. The two slinked out, Alfred smiling a little less wide, more genuine in his approach as he sauntered ahead- trying to appease Matthew anxiousness to ask him to go in. The little door jingled with an out of place kindness, and the secretary simply smiled as she saw Alfred gestured towards his brother.

“Hey Matthew, bit early but I’m sure she’ll let you slip in, I’ll let her know.”

“Thanks, John.” The two shuffled into the waiting room, the blue coloured walls screaming a soothing need to be somewhere else. A large white door that leads to the office glared at him, accusatory in it’s meaning. Although they were the only people present, Alfred’s demeanour just seemed so out of place, as if he was never meant to be in a generic chair surrounded by mental health posters- the beach blonde was basically a poster boy of happiness. Matthew scorned. No point getting upset over your brother, he’s tryna-

The big white door had swung open, a cheery disposition of Ms Paisley greeting the, ushering for the two to enter her office. The all-too-familiar couch never felt so small until he had to clamber onto it with Alfred cramping alongside him. The brown haired doctor had settled in her own seat, collected and calm as she watched the two settle patiently. This entire situation felt overcrowded. After she had introduced herself to Alfred, she had opened her arms out to Matthew, ready to fire off on questions no doubt.

“So! Matthew, Nice to see you as always, thank you for inviting your brother, I don’t want to make this difficult so let's lay down some rules.” explaining, her movement seemed so insistent on encouraging him to look at Al’s expression, but he couldn’t bring himself to even look away from her brown heels and the suddenly immensely interesting wooden floor.

“We can just do some simple questions today, Is that alright Matt? Alfred can sit in for a short while, and then I’d like to talk to him privately for a bit. That should take…” the clock taunted him as they both looked at it calculatingly. “30 Minutes, I’ll speak to Al for 15 and then we can have a little private time for the last 15. Is that alright?” It wouldn’t matter Al was already here he-

“Yeah that sounds good.” his voice caught up faster, desperate to get it over with. Don’t get the Canadian wrong: he enjoyed his sessions with Ms paisley, it was just hard...really exhausting being with his brother and his mind was about to explode with uncertainty over almost everything.

“How...how are you feeling Matt. Better than last week?”

Matthew felt like he was going to choke.

[esmiblood90irisglimmer]

The Black Swan Curse (Jeffmads)

For my good friend @bihamilove who needs cheering up

Madison POV

You may think all the fantasy and the fairy tale stories were nothing more than a myth. Childhood stories that would make us dreams of a special world filled with nothing but happiness. All the witches, warlock, and other mythical that everyone debate whether they’re or not. Well, I knew for a fact that all the mythical mention in many fiction novels are all real. How would I know well, let’s just say that when I was four years old. An elderly couple stop by our house during the harsh thunderstorm back then, they only asked for shelter just for the night. My father is a kind-hearted soul and was willing to help out the old couple but my mother was another story. She was quite selfish and cruel back then and she even admitted herself and regretted her action. Let’s just say that mother selfish attitude sends the old couple back outside in the cold and harsh rainstorm. Father nearly argue back with my own mother but suddenly the old elderly couple transforms into a young couple whom I believe are fairies. They looked very beautiful gorgeous but were furious at my mother for her wicked behavior.

For that, they punish her action by placing a curse on me by becoming a black swan. The only way that the curse can be lifted is that one day. That until when my 18th birthday arrives and that I’ll find true love and my first kiss will expel the curse. As if, that would most likely ever happen since I swing toward the other team if you catch my drift. I’ve been eyeing on Thomas Jefferson for as long I can remember since we practically grew up together. Despite being two years younger than him but he’s one of my closest friend I ever had. Minus Hamilton but he and Jefferson don’t exactly get along the best way but they're keeping their arguments a minimum. Well, not trying to get off sidetrack by the fact that I’m cursed of being a black swan.

It was hard for my parents to deal with this curse mostly for my father who hasn’t spoken to my mother since the incident. I can’t blame him but then again it’s been almost fourteen years when I was cursed. All I want is to see my parent happily talking once more. Well, all I ever wanted to spend the rest of my life with Thomas but that’s impossible. Wonder how I know it’s impossible for me and him to be together forever well for one thing. Curse being a black swan during the daytime while during the night. I’m my normal human self in which cost me to be homeschool and take late online classes. I lost my sweet childhood because of this stupid curse. Why didn’t the fairies curse my mother instead of me as her punishment?

....How did I end up acting so cruel to my mother?... Feeling tears streaming down my face while walking to the center of the small homemade pond. My father builds this beautiful pond hidden away from other where my transformation would be unseen. Touching the small necklace that Jefferson has given me a couple hours ago before running away back home. I still remember that moment but was nervous about what Jefferson was about to say next.

Three hours ago

Thomas and I were walking in the forest late at night once again despite his parents forbidding him to do so. Like always, my Tommy always disobeys his parents' wishes since they are a bit of a snob, no offenses taken. Just saying the truth and even Tommy admits it himself even though he can be a snob himself. But at least, he has some class just a tiny bit. Anyway, we were walking through the trails while holding hands like we usually do as friends. Even though just holding his hand in the forest makes my heart skip a beat or so. This is the only time where I got to spend any nights with Thomas in our secret trails. Leaning against his arm while blushing furiously as I felt my face turning all red.

I heard Thomas chuckling for a bit before speaking,  “You’re so cute when you blush Jemmy”

“I’m...I’m not...I’m not that cute, Tommy” I replied while blushing

“You are to me and just only me”

I began blushing even more before hiding my hide between hands which only to hear  Thomas laughing. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders before continuing to lead me through the trails. The secret trail in the forest usually starts from my homemade to an actual pond that hidden away from society and planted into the world of mother nature. It’s a special place for both me and Thomas since it was our own little world where we can be ourselves without being judged. That is until I’ve forgotten that the sun was almost rising up in the skies. Though I still had an extra hour left but couldn’t take the risk of Thomas seeing me transforming into a swan.

About to run away but Thomas suddenly grabbed my hand for the time being before pulling me into his arms. I began blushing once again as my heart was pounding against my chest. I felt his heart pounding at the same pace and rhythm as my own. Wasn’t sure what I was expecting but feeling Thomas pressing his lips against my own forehead. My heart immediately skip a beat or two as he did that because Tommy never did that before. I didn’t know what to do until I saw him pulling a jewelry out of his pocket. It was a golden necklace with a black swan as the centerpiece, Thomas gently place the item onto me. Seeing him genuine smile at you but it was a different smile that I couldn’t put on the tip of my finger.

“Happy 18th Birthday Jemmy. I’m very grateful to spend my entire childhood and my teenage years with you” Thomas confess

“...Tommy...” I whisper

“James Madison, there something I have been meaning to tell you but I just couldn’t express them until now...I wouldn’t know how to continue my life if I haven’t met you.  Ja...James...I”

“Thomas...please...don’t...don’t say it” I interrupted him

“But I must James...I can keep this quiet any longer than I’ve already had”

I know, many of you are thinking that I’m crazy for Thomas finally confessing his love for me. Its just...I’m afraid that once the curse is lifted. I fear that my beloved Thomas assumes that I use him to lift up the curse and never speak to me again. I couldn’t bare suffering a heartbreak nor lose my beloved Thomas for the rest of my existence. Looking away with tears threatening to leave my eyes but kept pushing them back. I couldn’t face him directly before running away from Thomas sight. I heard him calling my name repeatedly but I didn’t stop. I just kept on running nonstop until reaching my homemade pond.

Flashback ended

After that incident, I didn’t know if Thomas has followed me but that doesn’t since the morning sun has already arrived. The water began swirling around me causing me to change from my human self into my current black swan self. Slightly splashing the water around me as I slowly float around the homemade pond. It wasn’t really boring being a swan since I enjoy flying around the forest and headed to mine and Thomas secret pond. Though I couldn’t do that today since at any moment Thomas would be arriving in his I doubt since I completely blow him off. It’s better that way so that my darling Thomas can move on and have a wife and children of his own. My heart may be broken and shattered just of him marrying someone else but I’m willing to make that sacrifice.

There always consequence for each curse since that’s how the world works in its own twisted way. The fairies told my parents that if the curse wasn’t lifted before the morning after my birthday I shall remind as a black swan forever. Well, I have nothing better to do as a human being so might as well live the rest of my life as a bird that would be worth nothing toward other humans. As I sadly swim around the pond, I hear footstep within the distance. The fear within was starting to consume within me for a second until around of the bushes was only Thomas. I saw the desperation in his eyes that he has been looking for me. Expect, he found me but only as a swan which I saw him a depressing smile.

“It’s you again, my little swan,” he said before sitting in front of the pond watching me. Oh, would I love to speak to me but no words would escape from my beak. Just only an annoying sound so I stay silent. Thomas has come to see my father homemade pond and was impressed by it. He never figures it out that the black swan he made with it is actually me. I knew that Thomas is fond of birds since he uses to have one as a pet while we were children. Though it died by natural cause it was a depressing moment for Tommy. Though now, he has me...as a friend I believe hopefully. By instinct, I reach out to him before feeling his hand gently petting me on the head.

“Oh, my little swan. I wish you knew where James went. I wanted to confess my love to him but he ran off. I wonder if I was too straightforward with my love confession toward him?” he asks

Shaking my small swan head softly letting him that he wasn’t being straightforward. I overreacted but I could bare a heartbreak after he finds out the truth or may never ever see me again as a human. Shaking those thoughts away as Thomas depressing smile lighten up a bit. I always knew how to cheer him even in my state being a swan it wasn’t that hard communicating with him. Thomas spirit was lifted up a bit before deciding to sketch of me once again. He usually does this whenever he was waiting for  “me” to arrive school from my “boarding school”. I despise lying to Thomas every single day and night but it must be done no matter what. Well no more, tonight is the night is where I come clean toward Thomas and tell him everything. Even the outcome may be resulted in him hating me for the rest of my life but..I’m ready for it.

Hours Later

It was already reaching sunset in which it’s mean that any moment the full moon would rise up in the skies. My heart was pounding against my chest due to fear that Thomas will finally know my secret. If you’re wondering where Thomas well, he’s still here waiting for me in front of me while pulling off the flower petals. I can still see the depression in his eyes after I ran away from him during his love confession. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake when I have done that betrayal and breaking his heart. I hope Thomas isn’t too angry with me once the moon started rising up. My stomach started to turn into knots along with my other organs. I saw Thomas grabbing another flower before pulling it petals as well. I swear I never meant for this to happen but I let it happen.

Lowering my head in shame and regretted that I have broken Thomas heart in fear that he may break my heart. I was being selfish and afraid of falling in love because of this damn curse!!... I won’t let this curse get to me ever again. I want to be with Thomas but I’m also willing to be a swan for the rest of my life as well.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it my little swan? I knew that James would love seeing the Moon at the moment. It’s should be a high full moon in any second”

He’s right, I love seeing the moon rising high up in the skies since now, he can finally see that the black swan is actually me. Once the moon reflection hits the center of the pond is when it’s started glowing. This freak Thomas out for a moment when seeing the water swirling around me once again but transforming into my human form. Soon it took a little while longer than usual but I didn’t mind at all. I couldn’t bear the thought wondering of what would be Thomas expression would be once he sees me. The transformation finally finishes the water land back into the small pond where the water itself was slowing itself down.

Slowly opening my eyes as I saw the shock expression on Thomas that was mix with confused and stunned. My vision suddenly clean only to see that I’m wearing a gown made with black feathers. I was amazed by how this dress was made just by the transformation since it never happened before. That’s not the point, all I saw is Thomas standing in front of me speechless and frozen. We stood there staring at each other for what seem to be hours but actually only five minutes. I look away in with shame and embarrassment with tears threatening to stream down my face.

“James...is it really you?” Thomas question

“Y...y....yes” I stuttered

“The entire time you were...the black swan?”

“...Yes...”

I still didn’t dare to look at Thomas not knowing what to expect until I heard him running into the pond. Barely lifting my head only to be pulled into his arms once again, hugging me tightly as if I were a rare gem. Shedding a few tears before hugging him back while sobbing for the time being. My beloved didn’t dare to release me from his arms but kept a distance from us. He gently stroked my cheeks as Thomas shed a few tears of his own. Kissing my cheeks, nose, and my forehead before hugging me tightly once again.

“I thought I lost you forever” he confesses

“Thomas...I’m so sorry that I ran away from you. I was a coward...since what you saw...thought you would hate me. I couldn’t bear the thought of a broken heart...but you’re the suffering it instead of me”

“My dear, James. I could never hate since you’re the kindest and generous person I’ve ever met in my entire life. I’m willing to marry you even after confessing my love to you since we’re meant to be together”

“...Thomas...how could you love someone that is curse?...A curse that can only be broken by a true love first kiss....”

“Well, my dear James do love me?, Cause I love you and I’ll do anything to lift up your curse”

Tears were streaming down my face for joy before hugging him tightly before he lifts me up in the air before spinning us around. We laugh a little for a bit until we settle down after celebrating our love for each other. Thomas lightly places his hand onto my cheek before staring deeply into my eyes own. My heart flutter as I giggle shyly before I even notice how close our lips were.

“A true love kiss lifts up the curse. Then I, my dear James shall be your true love first kiss” Thomas spoke before placing his lips on my own. 

Wrapping my arms around his neck as this kiss blossom from affection to romance. The feeling of having Thomas’ lips on my own felt so right as if he’s my soulmate the I’ve been searching for many years. Yet, here we are kissing in the center of the small pond sharing our first kiss. A warm and electrifying feeling flew the courses of our bodies. For a moment, I actually thought we were flying in the air, silly I know. But, it was so magical and romantic that this is the first time I’ve ever true love within me.

I assume that I would never find true love and I didn’t. Instead, true love has found me instead along with Thomas who didn’t care if I was cursed or not. We just wanted to be together forever. Slowly breaking the kiss before hugging each other it felt pure bliss. I wish it would never end but suddenly I remember the curse...was it lifted? I’m afraid that maybe Thomas and I are too late but then again...I could be wrong though but I’m afraid.

But those fears were brushed away when Thomas and I both notice that the homemade pond my father built was suddenly replaced with a ravishing garden. I always wanted a beautiful but father all his saving for the pond when I was cursed. Though I still don’t know that is until a small golden light orb that appears before us. And I knew, I instantly knew that it wasn’t an ordinary an orb, it was the spirit of the black swan that was curse into me since I was four years old. Now the black swan curse has finally been lifted on my 18th birthday with a true love kiss. I shall treasure each moment and every day I spend with my beloved Thomas Jefferson through life and death itself.

Sorry if this was too long

[wanna1things]

CEO!Kang Daniel AU

Genre;; ceo!au, business!au,, job!au are these things?? ++FLUFFFFF

Warnings;; none that i know of

Pairing;; Kang Daniel x reader

Requested?;; yes (by anon)

Summary;; Your first time talking to your boss, the one and only CEO Kang Daniel, went a little wrong, but oh so right…

Style;; bullet point….

Word Count; 1559

This is kind of inspired by a) a tv show i saw once and b) a video my mum showed me about the london olympics lol so yhh

Kang Daniel is the powerhouse of W1 advertising company (excuse me i’m terrible at coming up with names for things;;)

No kidding,, he managed to score official advertising for the Korean winter olympics like;; what?? How?? Persuasion king???

Not only is he talented as hell in the business sector

Hes also MAD good looking

He managed to rise to the top at a super young age because of his skills and he constantly has the older female office workers crowding around him and swooning,,

I mean who wouldn’t swoon over Kang Daniel???

The first time you see him is when you first join W1 as a sketch artist for the production sector

Daniel’s secretary Seongwoo is just showing you around the office when you notice Kang Daniel

Sitting in his office

Stuffing gummy bears into his mouth

Like woah hold up a second?? The professional CEO-god Kang Daniel is literally STUFFING himself with sweets??

You take a mental note of this like ok you can use it for blackmail if you need to

After a few months of working there the official sketches for the olympics adverts are needed

And boyyy is Daniel GRILLING your department

Everyones working themselves to the bone and Daniel just keeps on;; turning down every idea

So you decide to take matters into your own hands

And order him a personalised box of chocolates with ‘cheer up’ on them

Funny idea

Would’ve been even funnier if you hadn’t left the receipt in the bag when you placed it on his desk that morning

With your name on it.

It didn’t take long for a call to come through to your desk that was just daniel practically shouting into the speaker

‘Come to my office now or you’re fired’

OHHH no you’re screwed sorry not sorry

As soon as you step foot in his office you just feel overwhelming dread like ohhhh my god

Dont go losing your job!!

But instead of screaming in your face he just calmly asks you to take a seat opposite him,,

‘You’re y/n, yes?’

Well duh

‘And you’ve been working here for 3 months right?’

‘Yes, Mr Kang’

‘Did Ong put you up to this??’

He asks holding up the box of chocolates

With half of them missing

Without even thinking you say,, in shock,,

‘You ate half of them already?? It’s only been half an hour??’

He laughs that cute lil laugh and smiles so softly and you just feel your heart skip a beat like ohhh god why is he so charming???

‘So you did it yourself. No need for the formalities, y/n, just call me Daniel.’

Excuse me

Your superior wants you to call him by his first name because;; you sent rude chocolates to his office

‘Thanks for the chocolates by the way, I didn’t realise I was being that harsh to your department that it warranted a rude box of chocolates.’

Uh oh here comes the you’re fired

‘I’m so sorry Mr Kang-’

‘No, y/n, I told you to call me Daniel! And there’s no need to apologise because now you’re making the whole plan on your own’

It takes a second for you to process what he said

You, someone who has worked there for not even half a year, has been given the sole responsibility to create the plan for the OLYMPIC ADVERTISING CAMPAIGN WHAT

While you’re just drowning in your thoughts he shoos you out of the room with a quick

‘I expect a basic plan in two days time, y/n. I’ll be waiting~’

He smiles that damn sweet smile and slams the door shut right in front of your shocked face

Oh my god

So much work

uHH tiny time skip

Its tomorrow basically;; and;; you’re nowhere near finished

The deadline for the basic plan is due at 9am tomorrow and it’s currently 7pm and you have absolutely no ideas

Daniel basically banned the rest of the department from talking to you so you couldn’t even ask them for ideas??

The office is almost empty except for you, and the light’s still on in Daniel’s office but nobody is in there so;; he probably left it on (don’t do that kids it’s bad for the environment)

The last person left besides you in your department is just leaving when Daniel returns from well,,, wherever he was

She turns to you, pats your shoulder and whispers

‘Good luck, y/n, if you’re too stuck just ask Mr Kang, he’s not as bad as he seems.’

You nod to her and say goodbye and turn back to your blank computer screen

The minutes feel like hours as you rack your brain for ideas and it’s almost like you’re in a trance;;

That is, until, a voice by your ear whispers

‘Y/n~ you should’ve asked me for help!!’

Of course its Kang Daniel uh oh

He plops himself down in the seat next to yours and begins to supply you with ideas

Before the clock even turns 9pm you’re finished!! And you’re so pleased you spin around on your spinny chair (i love those) and throw your arms around Daniel

He just laughs and hugs you back

‘Well done, y/n’

Then you realise what you’ve done haha good one y/n real clever;;

And you quickly remove your arms apologising profusely while he just smiles at you and giggles lightly

And in the dim light of your computer screen you realise

God

You have a crush on your boss

He continues to help you with the project after everyone else has left until you have the perfect idea

The adverts are going to be interviewing the loved ones of the athletes and talking about supporting them and helping them to achieve their dream

By the end of the month all of your ideas are finalised and you’re ready to start filming

Both you and Daniel go to the filming, him as the CEO and you as the original creator

You both stay behind after the initial filming and mess around a bit with the camera

You manage to catch a video of him stuffing his face with gummy bears and he videos you dancing along to the songs they were playing for the photoshoots bless

And as you’re watching the various videos of Daniel back you just realise that damn;; you’ve fallen HARD

His smile just makes your chest ache because it’s so cute and you’re so in love!!

But no he’s your boss stop

After that initial filming he suddenly stops attending the filming sessions

That is, until the last session when he pulls aside the cameraman and well; who knows what he did you couldn’t hear

He still hasn’t spoken to you properly and you’re beginning to think he’s sussed out your mASSIVE crush on him oh dear

So you take the opportunity to leave early and go cry into some ice cream while on the phone to your best friend in your department

Who reassures you it’s all okay but what do they know ??

The next day you walk into work in a slump with bags under your eyes because boy that ice cream food baby made it hard to sleep comfortably

Not to mention you’re nearly an hour late because of traffic

As you log in to your computer you realise you have an email?? From Daniel??

Its subject is simply ‘completed’ and it has nothing inside except for a video attachment, which you assume is the final cuts of all of the videos from the past sessions

So you watch it but as you near the end you notice something is up

There’s an extra 3 minutes?? Why??

And boom a smiley Daniel appears onscreen (prepare for cheese)

‘Y/n~~! It’s your favourite CEO!! I didn’t know how to confess to you so;; I planned this with help from Seongwoo so if this doesn’t work blame him’

Wait

Confess

‘So… I’ve liked you pretty much since the first day you appeared and saw me eating all those gummy bears;; but since we’ve worked together on this project my feelings have grown and i’m proud to say that i love you, y/n!! I will support you until you can achieve your dream and even beyond! You complete me~’

Oh my god cheesY

‘But i think you should take a look in your desk drawer…’

So of course uhh you open your drawer and there’s a pack of gummy bears with a post-it stuck to it that reads ‘come to the roof’

Then realisation sinks in

You’re an hour late the poor guy will have been waiting on that cold ass roof for an hour better get up those stairs quick

As you reach the top you notice Daniel standing in the middle of the roof with a small bouquet of flowers dressed up in this rEALLY NICE GREY SUIT (god even imagining it he looks handsome af)

He spots you, smiles and waves at you, thrusting the flowers towards you

‘I thought you’d never come! I was beginning to think you’d rejected me!’

He laughs and scratches his neck, his cheeks BRIGHT red

‘Ahh, Daniel I would never!’

He pulls you towards him and softly presses his lips against yours, confirming both of your feelings for one another

As he pulls back smiling he whispers

‘That was a long time coming but it was so worth it’

And you smile because you would never have guessed that from the first time you spoke to him that it would end up like this

He really is the persuasion king lmao

ahhh second au first request!! hopefully you guys like it lmao it took me ages to think of a plotline ;; and its kind of short yikes

[umassdonahueinstitute]

Worldwide check-ins from Civic Initiative alumni during the COVID-19 epidemic (part 3 with continuing updates)

Mike Hannahan, director of the UMass Civic Initiative, asked alumni last week about how the COVID-19 pandemic was affecting them and what they were doing to take care of themselves during this unprecedented time across the world. Here are there responses, categorized by country.

The responses are to two questions: How has the coronavirus changed your life? How are you taking care of yourself?

###

Iraq

Greetings from Baghdad. I am an Iraqi Young Leaders Exchange Program (IYLEP) alumnus from 2015 and currently working as a medical doctor in the emergency room of one of Baghdad biggest hospitals, a hospital that provides (along with another smaller hospitals) medical care for approximately 5 million people! The hospital was so crowded before corona as usual, and when the first corona case was reported in Iraq, we were in alarm and we knew that things are going to change! Because we know our government and its limited resources.

We were waiting the first case to be reported in our hospital carefully, looking at any patient in the ER and expecting them to be a corona patient, but since we are in a war against that tiny evil, it came to us from where we didn’t expect! And old man in the cardiac care unit whom denied any travel history and was admitted 6 days ago started to deteriorate, despite of the proper management and care, unfortunately we lost him the day after! Then, his relatives confessed his being at Iran a couple weeks prior to admission and that explained everything!

We sent samples for PCR and the results came positive the day after! We were shocked! Because 21 doctors 6 nurses and patients nearby him were in direct contact with that man! Half of the hospital staff went to quarantine! Luckily, I wasn’t among them but continued working extra time to keep the hospital serving the people in need. Days after that, most of the cases in the ER were respiratory cases and many of them were corona positive! Among them, a woman came in late stage of the disease and died at the same day she was admitted, her body is still in the hospital and today is her 15 days without been buried! She did not have burial or sorrow ceremonies like any other, and this was inhumane! 

Those days in the war against corona virus revealed another enemy that is more aggressive than the Corona itself! The illiteracy! People didn’t commit to quarantine! Suspected cases are leaving the isolation units! And finally, a highly suspected woman whom her husband refused to isolate her and threatened me with punishment if I put her in isolation! And the next day revealed that she was positive and the police put all the family in the isolation units.

And here i am, writing this in my 25 days at hospital, standing against corona that will be vanished in months, and illiteracy which will last longer. 

Egypt

So we can all see that coronavirus has affected a lot of people's lives. From my point of view it came to teach us, to let us more aware about what we were having and what we were doing but now we are all at our houses trying to stay safe.

My life has stopped. I was working then the company changed the policy to work from home but now we are all in an open vacation not working, not getting our salaries, not doing anything. At first in the organization I was working in, we were trying to spread awareness through making online campaigns and live sessions but even now no one is working.

Also I was planning to visit the US this summer. I wanted to check on with the people that gave me the best experience during my previous experience in SUSI program. I wanted to come in June then to spend the 4th of July. But now I don't know if I will be able to do that or not. Besides that, I was going on an exchange program to Portugal but the airports stopped working 12 days before.

Now I'm staying at home, trying to find online jobs but because of the poor internet connection it is not easy nowadays. I'm learning Spanish now, and trying to learn Tango. What I really want to focus on now is to discover and explore myself more. In addition to try different and new things.

So now, I'm always staying at my home to be safe. I just go out if something is urgent, and I go out using gloves, masks, and alcohol. And after coming back before entering the house I take off my shoes outside, then go to wash my hands and use the alcohol again, then putting all my clothes in the washing machine separately.

Wish you a peaceful & healthy life. Stay safe.

Argentina

Strict quarantine since March 20, no school for my daughter since March 16th. We are both confined. I'm working from home, but fearing I may lose my job if this situation continues. I have just left my apartment twice to buy some groceries at local shops around the corner. I have not seen my family or friends who live in the same city, since March 15th, the day before the first regulations were started by the federal government. 

How are you taking care of yourself? Following the rules, practicing social distance. 

Pakistan 

It's a hard time for health workers. With increasing numbers of patients, not only their care but self-prevention has become a challenge. With all this, it's been a reminder to rejoice little things in life and not take normal daily routine for granted after the fight against COVID-19 is over. This has made me more thoughtful and grateful in life. I could really use some fresh air and a long walk when all this is over soon, hopefully. And a face-to-face chit chat over a coffee with my friends. 

I'm following the prevention guidelines thoroughly and making sure I will never be the reason somebody gets it. That's the responsibility falling on all of us and we must play our part.

United States (from a member of the Civic Initiative staff)

The coronavirus has completely changed all of my plans for the spring of 2020. First and foremost, I thought I would be spending this week recovering from the jet lag of a two week trip to Islamabad. I also envisioned myself having plenty of time in the warm weather to visit all of my favorite spots in the Pioneer Valley before I move away from Amherst for the foreseeable future. However, as my mom keeps reminding me, "Change the way you look at the things, and the things you look at change." Though life is not going according to plan, I am super thankful to have this time with my family. My brother, sister, and I are all quite close to moving away from our childhood home permanently, and it has been years since we all lived together under the same roof! 

With the extra time in my schedule, I am trying to solidify some healthy habits in my life. Aside from online school, I aim to do something physical and something creative every day. Some days I take my dogs for a walk and then read a book. Other days, I go for a run and come home to work on my doodling/sketching skills. It is cool to be able to spend my time on activities that normally fall to the bottom of my list of priorities.  

New Zealand

We have all been in a total national ‘lockdown’ for a week. Only people working in essential services are allowed to move around, the rest of us are confined to home except to go shopping, the Dr. or for neighbourhood walks. People over 70 are not even allowed to go to the grocery store. My mum and mother-in-law are both stuck at home, on their own. Police are out and about questioning people’s movement, which is very weird, but currently accepted by the population as necessary. The rate of infection is still going up every day (we are at 650 today) and they expect the numbers to keep going up for another 7-10 days. All travel in and out of the country has been suspended and our national airline is now running 5% of its previous scheduled flights. New Zealand’s economy is very heavily dependent on tourism, foreign students (especially from China and India) and dairy exports. The first two have completely stopped, and look to be suspended for a year or more, so the NZ economy is going to be very badly hit, with huge redundancies. The government (we have a left-wing one at the moment) has provided income assistance for everyone made unemployed by the virus and mortgage support for people who would otherwise lose their homes. These measures will soften the blow but not stop hardship.

Like everyone else our family (my husband, 17-year old son and me) is confined to home and will be for another 3 weeks, although word is that the government is thinking of extending it for another 2 weeks after that. I’m not sure what will happen when we all come out again. Maybe the government will stagger things across the country so that the health services can cope. All schools and universities are shut so we are all learning how to teach and learn online. 

Watching how the virus is affecting Italy, Spain, the US, the UK is shocking, and these countries have huge health care resources. Wishing all friends and other alumni and their communities all best wishes for getting through this pandemic!

Pakistan

The government imposed a partial lock down and authorities have restricted non-essential travel. I have not stepped out of the home for the last 6 days but I have set timetable for myself, which includes official work from home and other co-curricular activities such as cutting grass in lawn and playing badminton with my family members. It’s pretty hard to work from home in this challenging time as there's no way to avoid all interruptions from your family and visitors. Many in our area are taking the COVID-19 lightly and are not following the government guidelines. For them, it’s business as usual. Sometimes your family will interrupt you—like if your kid just got hurt. Sometimes, due to lack of human interaction I feel loneliness and I miss the gathering of colleagues and friends but we hope we will soon overcome this crisis and will be able to start our routine life.

I’m following the government guidelines of social distancing, staying at home and health & hygiene. I have also started healthy diet by taking more fluids to boost my immune and to be ready to face the COVID-19.

Pakistan

I have five daughters and son, all are adult and students. All public and private schools are closed since Feb. 2020. My children are staying in home, which is the first time and long time staying at same time in the home. These months are usually yearly examination time. All children are preparing for examinations, but the government announced all schools and universities will be remain closed until May 2020. Now children are busy in cooking, sewing, stitching, online learning. and video films with whole family.

I am also dependent on my salary. We have no money to spend on future food expenses. Today, the government is announcing that conditions are going be worse day by day.

As a social worker, my community members, and daily wage earners which are living near to me are calling me and want finances and food for their families. I am telling them that the government is doing some planning for them. I have also given technical support to poor people to register for an online portal because 70% of daily wage earners are uneducated and they have no facility of internet. So, I am trying my best with their registration with government.

Pakistan

The spread of pandemic COVID-19 has made sure that we won’t be seeing the world like we were used to before. Nothing is going to be same as before. We will encounter new challenges, down-sizing, recession of financial positions.

But, every recession is a beginning of a new rise. We may learn a life worth-living with a totally changed perspective, vision, re-shuffling of priorities, new ways of living, interacting and working. In order to contribute towards social responsibility, social distancing is the least you can do for yourself and for the others! Keep distance! That’s the only way you can protect yourself and others from this pandemic! Stay Home! Stay Safe!

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Well-Fitted

@shipperqueen93 prompted: “Rumbelle: He didn't magic belle new clothes, he made them himself, which required him to take her measurements. Awkward dark castle fun!”

I’m so sorry this took so long!

Well, this did absolutely not go in the direction that I thought it would when I first got the prompt. I’m not quite sure where my mind went, and I really hope you don’t mind that this ended up a little bit… naughtier than I first foresaw. It’s just that I got thinking about the kind of underwear Belle would have on beneath her first gold gown and things escalated from there…

Rated: M

=====

Well-Fitted

Rumpel has to admit that it simply can’t go on like this. Something’s got to be done. Not only is the image of his maid cleaning the castle in a ball gown utterly ridiculous, the gown itself is also looking incredibly worse for wear now, its hem tattered and torn from sweeping and clambering up and down ladders, and he doesn’t want any visitors to think he keeps her in rags for any kind of… insalubrious reason. Truth be told, he simply hadn’t thought about the logistics of having another person in the castle. He has his own ever-expanding wardrobe, but he didn’t exactly give Belle time to pack a bag when he took her away from her father’s castle. He’s been surreptitiously cleaning the dress with magic so that she doesn’t have to wear the same thing day in day out without any chance of laundering it, but at the same time, it really isn’t the most practical of outfits and the time has come for him to do something about it.

She is going to need some new clothes, that’s clear enough, but the fact remains that he has already expended too much magic on cleaning her limited wardrobe already, and if he’s going to get her anything else, it must be done by hand. He’s not in the habit of buying clothing at markets himself, and he does not yet trust his little maid not to make a run for it if he lets her go down into the town herself to pick out fabrics. He has plenty of good, strong cottons and linens left over in his stores from previous projects, and it would be easy enough to make something for her from those fabrics, things that would last longer than the silk and satin she wears at the moment. The only problem that he can see will be getting the sizes right.

There’s only one thing for it. He’s going to have to take her measurements. The only other way he can think of is to steal her golden gown and deconstruct it to use the pattern, but he feels that might be fraught with danger as not only would it entail sneaking into her room, it would also require him to take the thing apart and reassemble it within the space of a single night, and although he’s very good with a needle even if he does say so himself, Rumpel usually needs a little bit more time than that.

He glances over to where she’s standing on an end table on the far side of the room, reaching up impossibly high to twirl her feather duster over the knick-knacks on the tallest shelf of the dresser. For a moment, the vision of Belle going around doing the cleaning in her drawers and corset brings a lump to his throat and sends his thoughts in a direction that they really should not be going in. He coughs quickly to try and get the thoughts to go away, and Belle turns and looks at him over her shoulder.

“Is everything all right, Rumpel?” she asks. He nods quickly. Something has got to be done, and quickly, before his mind can throw him any more distractions.

“Yes, yes, perfectly fine. Once you’re finished in here, come up to the workroom.”

“Of course. Will you be wanting tea in there?”

Rumpel shakes his head. Adding hot beverages into the mix really doesn’t seem like a terribly good idea at the moment.

“No, no, just yourself. I need you for… something.”

Belle just nods good-naturedly and continues to dust the ornaments. Rumpel practically runs out of the main hall and gallops up the tower steps to his workroom, distracting himself from his previous impure train of thought by getting out the fabrics and pattern papers and scissors, and the all-important measuring tape. He wonders what kind of a dress she would like, and begins sketching absent-mindedly. Something a little shorter than the golden gown; he almost has a heart attack every time she climbs stairs or a ladder in the long dress. Hopefully she’s not one of those princesses who’s been brought up with a complex about showing their ankles. He’s just finished a little drawing when a voice in the back of his mind tells him that really, he shouldn’t be thinking about what she wants from a set of new clothes, because he’s the one furnishing her with them and she’s his servant, so she ought to be grateful for anything he gives her, including a potato sack.

The thought of Belle wearing nothing but a potato sack should really not have been quite as alluring as it was, and Rumpel shoos the voice to the back of his mind. She had agreed to forever, and that meant that they would be spending an awful lot of time together. He might as well try and make their acquaintance as cordial as possible, otherwise the next however many years will be an utter nightmare and he would hate to have to rearrange their deal having made it with such confidence.

Belle enters soon after, and she comes over to the workbench without any prompting, looking over all the items placed there.

“What’s all this, Rumpel?” she asks, giving him a curious look that has just a little bit of playfulness about it. He knows that she knows it’s for her, and unfortunately he’s not going to be able to deny the fact.

“Well,” he says, trying to bluster his way through the interaction like he does with most of their conversations. “I can’t have you going about wearing that… thing any longer. I do occasionally have guests, you know, and your dress, my dear, is nothing short of an eyesore.”

Belle shrugs. “I don’t really have a lot of choice in the matter, Rumpel, unless you want me to clean the castle in my underthings?”

“No!” Rumpelstiltskin exclaims at the suggestion, because he really didn’t need that image to be returned to the forefront of his mind. “No, no, that won’t be necessary. I have thread and linens enough to make you certain additions to your wardrobe.”

“So I see.” Belle runs her hands over the fabrics, and then moves to the sketches next to them. “Oh Rumpel, these are beautiful. Are these for me?”

He nods, a little streak of pride preening in him that she likes his work, but then, he can’t allow her to know that, so he pushes it down hard and tries to convince her that he doesn’t actually care, of course he doesn’t care.

“They’re not designed to be pretty,” he snaps. “They’re designed to be practical. You’ll be able to get even more work done if you’re not constantly tripping up over your skirts. I expect the castle to be spotless once these are finished!”

“Of course.” Belle nods solemnly, but Rumpelstiltskin gets the distinct impression that she’s actually laughing at him, and the feeling confuddles him for a moment.

“This was what you needed me for?” Belle prompted.

“Yes. Right. Yes.” He grabs the measuring tape. “I’m going to need your measurements if I’m going to get to work.”

He makes to pass the tape around her waist, but Belle stays his fingers with a firm hand on his wrist. He looks up, confused, did he do something wrong? She is a highborn lady after all, maybe she’s not comfortable with a man putting his hands on her like this.

“Rumpel,” she says, but there’s no trace of discomfort in her voice. “Don’t you think I ought to take this off first?”

Rumpelstiltskin stumbles backwards. “Pardon?” He’s rather ashamed by the way his voice appears to have turned into a very high-pitched squeak of alarm.

“None of your designs feature full corsetry,” Belle replies, nodding over to his sketches. “I’ve had enough dress fittings to know how measurements and dress-making work. If you want these dresses to fit me properly, you can’t take my measurements whilst I’m wearing a corset and full skirt and layers of petticoats, however tatty they may be.”

Well, in hindsight he supposes that is indeed true, and he wonders if he had perhaps subconsciously buried that thought to preserve his own sanity.

“Right.” He pauses, really not quite sure where to go from here. “Right.”

Belle looks at him innocently. “Perhaps I could borrow one of your shirts to wear? The silk is only thin, you would get an accurate measurement through it.”

Rumpelstiltskin blinks, opens his mouth to reply, and gets the distinct feeling that he’s about to faint. Belle pats his hand. “I’ll fetch one.”

And with that, she’s gone from the workroom, leaving Rumpelstiltskin staring after her and wondering what just happened. Heavily, he sits down at the workbench and resorts the fabrics and threads to give his fidgeting fingers something to do. Oh good grief. This enterprise is turning out to be far more hair-raising than he could ever have imagined. Honestly, he tries to do a good turn for his maid and now this happens. He’s never going to survive if this continues.

“Rumpel?”

He looks up on hearing Belle’s soft voice and sees her peering around the door. There’s a little bit of a blush in her cheeks as she enters, wearing his blue silk shirt and nothing else. She’s tiny enough that it hangs on her loosely and covers the necessities, but all the same, her pale legs look like they go on for miles and in that moment, there’s nothing that Rumpelstiltskin wants more than to bury his face between her creamy thighs and feel how soft they are for himself. He shakes himself back to reality, where on earth did that thought come from?

He’s swift and brusque and business-like as he wraps the tape measure around her and makes a note of all the numbers he needs, trying to ignore the way the shirt tails ride up when she raises her arms. It’s all going comparatively well until the moment he realises he needs to measure her bust.

“Rumpel?” Belle presses, seeing him falter. “Have you finished?”

Rumpelstiltskin doesn’t reply, because he has just noticed that Belle’s nipples have stirred into hard points and are showing prominently through the dark silk.

“Rumpel?”

“Yes. No. Just a few moments more.”

He takes a deep breath and passes the tape measure around her chest, lining it up properly, but he almost drops it when the tape presses against her nipples and Belle gives a little gasp at the sensation of the silk shirt rubbing her there. He just about remembers to make note of the measurement before he springs backwards as if he’s been stung, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

“Right, that’s it, you can go now.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll go and… dust.” It’s clear that Belle is feeling just as screamingly awkward as he is - and from the heightened colour in her cheeks, perhaps just as aroused as he is. He pushes the thought away. There’s no possible earthly way that could be true. It’s just an uncontrollable bodily reaction to a stimulus, in this case silk against particularly sensitive skin.

As Belle rushes away through the door, Rumpelstiltskin catches the briefest glimpse of her perfect bare bottom beneath the shirt tails, and with a groan, he sinks into his chair, glaring down at his lap but secretly relieved that his body has only chosen this moment to betray him totally. He looks over at the fabrics and the sketches, and he remembers the feeling of Belle’s body beneath his fingers as he measured her, his treacherous thoughts wondering idly what it would have been like to touch her without that barrier of silk...

It’s going to be a long night.