#the pink mascara too name escapes me is great...

[nxrthmizu]

kill em’ with kindness

fandom | miraculous ladybug 

genre | lila salt, so much salt 

summary | marinette takes the high road to a better life. 

w.c | 8.1k 

author’s note | had this idea for a few days after i wrote victory tastes bitter, which really blew up on ao3 (thanks for all the support <3). always wondered what it would be like if marinette just. played nice. so here she is, being an absolute badass. 

author’s note.2 | okay so since i did not write this in one sitting, i get that the story probably doesn’t flow as properly as it should. will edit if i ever find the will to do it. 

Marinette was done. They wanted her to be a model student? Fine. They wanted her to stop being mean? Fine. They wanted her to be friends with Lila? Fine.

Luckily for Hawkmoth, no akuma plagued the sky of the previous night, or she would rain hell on him. There was no more tolerance left inside her to spare, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to make some for the manipulative pest problem Paris has had for way too long.

She looked up into the mirror, having exchanged her pigtails for a low ponytail, strands curled to frame her face. Bluebell eyes glistened with a fire that burned brighter than hope— Hope that her ‘friends’ would see sense. Hope that Adrien would be there for her. Hope that the good guy would always get the happy ending. No more being patient, no more being passive, no more putting up with things she didn’t have to.

If Lila Rossi wanted a battle, then fine, a battle she would get. Marinette was lowering her white flag, replacing it with a battle emblem that scorched red, redder than blood and redder than the anger her friends would feel when she was finished. No more peace negotiations. Rossi wanted a fight, Rossi wanted a challenge. Who was Marinette to deny her from what she wanted?

They didn’t know what was coming for them.

The power of makeup was truly one that reigned apex among the world. A few touches of her makeup brush was all it took to erase her dark eyes from existence, give her skin a more radiant glow (She promised that she’d take time to give it a natural glow after she was done being nice), and ease a cherry-pink blush onto her cheeks, making her freckles stand out more in contrast. Marinette Dupain-Cheng meant business, and when she meant business—

“Good morning, Marinette! You look great today!” The head of the student council, a sensible, down-to-Earth blonde by the name of Noelle smiled, speeding up slightly to catch the bluenette on the steps of Francois Dupont. “Love the new look.”

Ah yes. The new look— A royal blue blazer, detailed with golden embroidery of cherry blossoms bursting at the sleeves and the collar, accompanied by a classy-looking silk blouse tapered with a soft, black felt. The pleated black skirt (Made from heavy cloth so that it wouldn’t flap about in the wind) was lined with a beautiful scarlet at all the edges to complete the look. Knee-high black socks trailed all the way into the slight heels that Marinette had added flower adornments on, just so she could tap a little of her own touch on it.

“Thank you,” Responded the bluenette with a smile.

“Woah! Someone looks like they got a good night of rest.” Madeline, the president of the Art Club teased, flocking to the other side of the girl. “That mascara looks sharp enough to kill, girl!”

Sharp enough to kill?

Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary, Marinette mused to herself, sending out thanks to those who had complimented her on her way to class. Nothing sharp was going to be required for the liar’s downfall— No, no. That would just be too messy, and she wouldn’t even think of staining her new outfit. Of course, the ensemble was crafted from her own hands, as stated by the classic MDC that graced the inside of her blazer, the collar of her blouse, and one of the pleats of her skirt. Besides… Lila wasn’t worth getting her hands dirty.

She was going to do things the right way.

The kind way.

“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted, walking into the classroom, garnering their attention with her punctuality. Every set of eyes in the room were attracted to her, like iron fillings to magnets. Some of the gazes were malicious, hateful; Some were doubtful, wary; One was pleading, as if spelling out ‘Please keep taking the high road!’— And then there was Chloe, who was entirely uninterested.

Good, Lila was already present.

“I’d just like to take a minute of your time. Won’t be too long, I promise.” She took a deep breath, ignoring the imploring gaze that dug at her side, courtesy of a blonde that sat in the front row (And no, it wasn’t Chloe she was referring to). “I’d just like to say…”

The class watched with bated breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Alya blinked. So did everyone else in the room. Stunned faces greeted Marinette’s apologetic one, including Lila’s— She didn’t even have to fake her reaction. What on Earth was Marinette trying to pull off? What kind of stunt was this?

“I realise that I’ve not really been the best version of me lately,” She admitted sorrowfully. I haven’t been the best version of me because I was being boycotted and isolated, “It wasn’t fair to put you all through this,” It wasn’t fair that you idiots had to lose all your reputations because of the words of one liar, “And people got hurt as a consequence,” Me. I was the one who got hurt. “I realise that things haven’t been all smooth-sailing in our class lately, so I’d like to apologise to everyone.” I’d like to apologise for not being able to save you from a liar who only sees her own personal gain.

A practiced breath escaped Marinette’s throat as she waited for her cue— The school bell— And set her bag on the teacher’s desk. Good, everything was unfolding right on time. Not quite far away, there was a distinct clack-clack-clack of someone’s heels— An auburn teacher, perhaps? Marinette reached into her backpack and drew out a package she had meticulously wrapped in brown paper and tied in golden ribbon. Sitting passively on top of the package was a small note, decorated in hand-drawn flowers and a hummingbird in the corner.

“Here,” Marinette strode up the steps of the class, stopping right in front of her former seat— Now Lila’s— Internally taking pleasure in the first time she’d seen the Italian’s true expression. “For you, as a token of my apology. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me,” Marinette swallowed painfully, biting her lip, as if she was trying not to cry, “But I just want to make things right.”

Lila blinked.

What the hell was happening?

The silence was broken by a quiet sob, one that did not originate from Marinette. Instead, Mlle. Caline Bustier stood in the doorway of the class, clutching her books and notes for the day’s lesson, wiping away a tear that dropped from her eye. “Oh, Marinette,” The teacher sobbed, “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Marinette.” Rose sniffed, wiping away a few tears of her own that had started dripping during the bluenette’s speech. Juleka patted her girlfriend’s back, trying to calm the emotional blonde before she cried out a tsunami on top of her textbooks, giving Marinette a thumbs up to show her approval.

Alya beamed, seemingly proud of her former best friend, who had (In her opinion) finally started to see sense. “I’m so proud of you, girl!”

(Adrien was too shocked to form any words.)

“Could you… Open it?” Marinette asked hopefully, ignoring the teacher for the favour of the liar who ruined her life. “I… Just want to know if you like it.”

The Italian could do nothing more than grit her teeth when Alya urged her to open it. What kind of trick was Mari-Brat up to? Never mind— She’d just spin it into something stupid and the class would take to it like starved animals. With no other choice, she tore apart the brown paper, discarding the golden ribbon on her desk. The class gasped, oohs and aahs echoing all around as the package unfolded to reveal a pretty, beige-coloured cardigan, hand-stitched with murals of foxes, jumping livelily among berry bushes.

Stitched into the inside of the cardigan in pastel blue were the words ‘Lila Rossi’, done in an exquisite cursive that could no doubt only come from Marinette’s hand.

“I made it for you myself,” Marinette sniffed humbly. “I know you’re a really great model and you’ve probably seen clothes that are much better than this one, but I poured all my feelings into it. I spent every night of last week working on it, and—” She hiccuped rather loudly, instantly covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “I just hope you like it.”

“I…” Lila was at a loss for words. She had an itinerary full of the lies and stories she would spin that day (“Marinette texted me mean things last night,” she would weep tearfully to Alya, sniffing and wiping away tears on Alya’s shirt sleeve, “I just want to be friends but she just keeps… Attacking me!”) but no matter. A smirk danced along the Italian’s lips. “Did you design this yourself?” 

Judging by the smirk that Marinette could practically hear in the other girl’s tone, the liar already had a trick up her sleeve. If Marinette had to guess... 

Something along the lines of she stole this design from [random designer], who just coincidentally had the time to be Lila’s friend. Or maybe the friend of Lila’s grandmother. Whichever didn’t matter much, because Marinette was prepared. 

Marinette crossed the room in mere seconds, returning back to Lila’s seat with a sketchbook that she’d pulled from her bag. “Here!” She chirped, flipping open the page with an exercised movement, not even having to shuffle through the pages to find the correct sketch. “I brought the original sketch, just in case you wanted to see it so you could get a professional to redo it for you.” 

Lila opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish out of water. Beside her, Alya’s eyes sparkled, envy still glowing in her eyes at the sight of the intricate foxes, coloured in hazel, gold, and orange threads. 

“Thank you, Marinette.” Lila gritted through her teeth, basically seething at the thought of having to thank the girl in front of her, who was smiling like an innocent sunshine child. 

The bluenette then turned her attention to her homeroom teacher. “Sorry for interrupting and taking up class time, Mlle. Bustier.” 

“It’s not a problem, Marinette,” Mlle. Bustier wiped at her eyes, slightly embarrassed now that the whole class was watching her cry at the sight of her ‘model student’ correcting her wrongs. “E— Excuse me.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. “Let’s pick off from where we stopped yesterday. Open your textbooks to page 63, please.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The rest of the day went along smoothly. Marinette sat at the back of class, as usual, sighing in boredom as class was derailed off course, whisked off by another one of Lila’s tall tales. Honestly, they were already weeks off schedule— How the hell were they expected to sit for the final exam, at this rate? 

She huffed quietly to herself, watching Bustier trying (and failing) to act like she wasn’t interested in Lila’s story. The woman— An actual adult— Fell for Lila’s usual tricks like a fool, taking in every single word in drunken thirst. Did Mlle. Bustier really have nothing better to do than get absorbed in a teenage girl’s wild fantasies (in a way it was like that). At that thought, Marinette sat up straighter in her chair, an idea going off like a lightbulb above her brain. 

Was it...? 

After further thought, Marinette settled back into her chair, humming thoughtfully as she drummed her fingers against her table quietly. Yes... Yes, perhaps. 

Perhaps it was possible. 

The rest of the lesson passed in wasted time as the class took a major detour to go on a warped journey through Lila’s lies, and before Bustier knew it, the lunch bell had rung. Students chattered animatedly as everyone got up, Mlle. Bustier’s announcement of ‘please go home and study this chapter by yourselves, everyone’ was pathetically drowned out by the rest of the noise. 

Marinette collected her things quickly, needing her exit from the classroom to go off without a hitch, exactly the way she planned it. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ bakery for lunch,” She said shyly, shrinking into herself as her classmates turned to look at her. “I... Was thinking of bringing some macarons back later. Before I go, though... Lila, is there anything you’re allergic to?” 

“What?” The girl being asked snapped back as a reply, the words leaving her mouth too fast for her to register. Before she knew it, the whole class was staring at her, mouths agape. “I... I mean.” Clearing her throat, the liar plastered on a sweet smile. “What was it, Marinette?” 

“I wanted to bring some macarons back for everyone.” Shyly, the bluenette repeated her plans. “And... Since I’ve been in class with everyone else here for a while, I know their allergies, but not yours. Is there anything you’re allergic to that could be in baked goods?” 

The Italian cursed under her breath��� Mari-Brat really wasn’t letting up. The bluenette had made sure to cover any ground that the Italian could use and turn back against her. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not allergic to anything.” 

Brightening visibly, Marinette nodded, shooting the Italian a smile. “I know things between us aren’t going to get better immediately, but I promise to do my best in fixing things! See you guys after lunch.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila was getting really, really fed up. For the whole morning, she wasn’t able to come up with any reason to blame Marinette. If things kept going at the rate that they were, the class would be fully convinced that the bluenette was a changed woman, and that couldn’t happen. There was, in the end, a downside to having such a gullible bunch of classmates— Sure, they swayed easily to her side, but that meant that they swayed back to Marinette’s just as easily. 

Hissing under her breath, Lila looked up to catch Alya and Nino’s concerned looks. 

No. 

She was Lila Rossi. She was resourceful. She had Gabriel Agreste behind her back. She was powerful. She was not going to let Mari-Brat halt her plans in their tracks ever again. 

“I’m going to go use the bathroom real quick,” She said, excusing herself from the lunch table. Perfect! Now all she had to do was come back in tears, saying that Marinette confronted and mocked her in the bathroom, and the class would be all hers, once again. 

Little did she know that Dupain-Cheng was one teensy step ahead. 

As soon as Lila rounded the corner of the cafeteria, Marinette appeared, having just had a lovely chat with Rose (And Juleka, although it was Rose who did most of the talking). The two were at the front steps of Francois Dupont, having a lovely couple moment that Marinette hated to interrupt— But she needed to have at least a word with them. 

“Rose, Juleka!” Marinette greeted, box of macarons held carefully in her arms, as if it were a box of important jewelry instead of just a box of pastries. “Oh— Rose, is that a new watch? I’ve never seen you wear it before!” 

“Yep, it is!” Rose beamed, delighted that someone (Besides Juleka) had finally noticed it. “Isn’t it pretty?” Indeed it was. The watch in question was a pretty, intricate-looking thing done in rose-gold metal, with a pastel pink leather strap holding it down. The background of the watch face was a white background with a thin film of rose-gold metal, cut to resemble a wall of precious rose vines. 

“It is!” Agreeing wholeheartedly, Marinette offered her classmate a smile. “Oh by the way, what time is it?” 

Rose peered at the watchface, returning the answer with an equally-bright smile. “11.47.” 

“Thank you.” Marinette thanked, continuing her way through the school until she reached the cafeteria. Just before she fell into line of sight, though, she hid behind a wall, peering over the corner until she spotted the table she was looking for. 

Perfect— Lila just walked away. Marinette thanked the gods for all the luck that she was having— Okay, maybe she thanked one god in particular more than the others. Gently, she patted the secret pocket that was sewn into the lining of her blazer— Tikki, who had magic powers, managed to create a miniature ‘room’ inside the secret pocket, with the pocket itself acting as a portal of sorts to the room. After a few seconds, she felt the pocket tap back, managing a small smile of gratitude for her kwami’s constant love and support. 

“Hey, Alya, Nino.” Marinette greeted shyly, box of macarons propped up against her hip. “Where’s... Lila?” She hesitated slightly with her question, acting as if it was a little out-of-place to ask about the Italian girl. 

“She went to the bathroom.” Nino provided, mouth still full of unchewed food. This gifted him with a smack from his girlfriend (“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” she scolded,). 

“Oh, I see.” I definitely see. I know what she’s going to try and pull later— I have to time this properly. Timing is everything. 

Marinette continued to make small talk with the two, whom she had not talked to for a very long time. Much to her surprise, they were very warm and accepting, quite unlike the people who slung slurs and accused her baselessly a few days ago. One morning made all the difference to people who believed anything, she supposed. 

All of a sudden, something in her chest buzzed, as if it were a fire alarm, vibrating in warning— She had to go. “It was nice talking to you guys again.” She admitted, having briefly dipped into a pool of what their friendship used to be like. “But I have to go. I promised Kagami I’d meet her for a few minutes before lunch ended.”

Alya’s eyebrows jumped up comically in surprise. “I didn’t know you still talked to her. I thought you two were… Love rivals.”

“So what if we were love rivals?” Marinette shrugged with a simple smile. “Adrien is… As much as it’s odd to admit, he’s just a boy. Neither of us let him get in between us. He’s just a boy, and it’d be stupid for us to not get along just because we like the same boy. It doesn’t bother Kagami that we used to like the same boy, so why should I let it bother me? Besides,” Marinette tilted her head slightly. “It’d be stupid to give up a great friendship just because of a boy.”

With her last words still hanging in the air, Marinette turned tail and left, walking faster than usual. She had little time left— As she neared the wall that would shield her from the view of the cafeteria, she sped up her footsteps, practically half-sprinting just so she could get out of sight before Lila Rossi returned, looking like someone just killed a puppy in front of her very eyes.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Alya jumped to her feet instantly, reaching out to comfort her best friend, who was moments away from having tears stream down her cheeks.

“I… I thought she’d changed.” Lila sniffled, biting her lip to appear as if she was desperately trying not to cry.

Alya frowned. “Who?”

“Marinette.” Lila stated as if it were obvious, faltering for a moment— Why had Alya bothered to ask? Shouldn’t it come pretty obvious? The liar dismissed the thoughts and continued in her performance. “She threatened me in the bathroom. She… She confronted me and mocked me, saying… Saying that all of you… All of you are idiots for believing that she’s changed. She… She said everything was an act to turn you all against me.”

Nino’s jaw dropped so far that it touched the floor. “Uh… Dudette, are you sure it was Marinette?”

“Yes!” Lila spun to look at him so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t break her neck. “Are… Are you doubting me? Oh my god, it’s working. She’s turning you guys against me. I just want to have friends, I don’t get why she hates me so—”

“You’re… Absolutely sure it was Marinette? You saw her face?” Alya repeated her boyfriend’s words, emphasising each and everyone of them as she looked Lila in the eyes.

“Alya, not you too.” Lila sniffled, tears basically dropping out of her eyes like big, fat droplets of salt water. “It was her— I saw her blazer, it had MDC stitched onto it.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in between the girl and her boyfriend, neither quite knowing what to say. “Oh. I… I see.” Alya said at last, turning back to her food. “Well… Lunch is almost over. Let’s… Let’s get back to class.”

“Marinette just threatened me in the bathroom!” Lila puffed up, clearly upset now. “She mocked me! She called you guys stupid for believing her act!”

“Dudette.” Nino shattered the ice-cold silence at their lunch table, swallowing heavily. “Marinette was with us the whole time you were in the bathroom.”

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The tension inside the room was so thick that Adrien could cut it with his bare hands. God, what had happened? The day had started off so well— Marinette agreed to be friends with Lila, god bless the girl— But as it turned out, one hurdle folded over only to be towered over by a taller one. 

“Alya—” Lila began tearfully, her pitiful look attracting the sympathy of those who still didn’t know what was going on. 

“You claimed that Marinette threatened you in the bathroom.” Alya interrupted. “While she was with us the whole time in the cafeteria.” 

Faltering, the Italian struggled to find a way to squeeze herself out of the tight spot. “M— Maybe it was someone else.” Reluctantly, she backed out one trap into another one. 

“You said that you were sure! You said that she was wearing a blazer with MDC stitched on it. Marinette was wearing that blazer during lunch!” The reporter shot back, Nino at her side, trying to extinguish the conflicted fire blazing inside Alya’s heart. 

The seeds of doubt had been sewn, and Lila was going to have a tough time weeding them out. “I... I’m sorry!” She burst out into tears, sobbing pitifully in front of the class, most of which were already in attendance. “My lying disease is acting up again. I... I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!” 

“Uh... Is this a bad time to ask if anyone wants macarons?” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, standing at the front of the room. Her royal blue blazer had been shed, and it now hung over her arm, properly folded into half. Earlier, she had asked Rose for the time to make sure that she had a witness in case Lila tried to pull another act— But as it seemed, the Italian was determined to dig her own grave and all the work had been done. 

The students of Mlle. Bustier’s class shared looks. 

“I’ll... I’ll have one.” Mylene cleared her throat, hoping that it would diffuse the situation. 

“Me too.” Kim followed, not missing the way Marinette flinched slightly at his words. Most of the words he had said to her of late had not been nice at all— But he justified that with the fact that she was being a bully to Lila, like Chloe had been to Marinette herself. 

“Great!” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, slapping on a strained smile. She passed the box to the front row, where Sabrina and Chloe were, gesturing for them to pass the box along until everyone got their fill. 

Internally, Lila seethed, anger burning like a wildfire that tore down every lush sign of life in her path. The girl had never felt that livid in her entire life— Who did Dupain-Cheng think she was, having a change of heart out of nowhere, pretending to play along with those oh-so-innocent eyes of hers? 

“I... I think I know why my disease acted up again,” Lila sniffled, loud enough to gather attention again. Unsure glances passed around like an object that no one wanted, carried from hand to hand forcefully as no one wanted to hold onto it for too long. “It... It must’ve been because of... Of the cardigan that Marinette made me! You must’ve known that...” The Italian squinted at the cardigan on her desk, “... Cotton triggers my lying disease!” 

The bluenette, still passing around macarons, stopped in her tracks. Inside her mind, Marinette was shaking her head, an amused smile on her cheeks. She had to give Lila credit for that one— She would’ve never anticipated that lie from her nemesis. “That’s terrible!” She sucked in a breath, putting on a dismayed look. “I’m really sorry, Lila! I know it seems like I did this on purpose, but I promise I didn’t! To make it up to you, I’ll make you another one.” 

Is she serious right now? Lila scoffed mentally. How long does she plan to keep this going? No matter— She’ll eventually drain herself out and I won’t even have to meddle in this matter. 

Marinette sniffled, collecting the cardigan pitifully from Lila’s desk. “But to prevent future incidents, Lila, I just want you to know that this isn’t made of cotton... It’s made from the highest-quality of star silk, which is incredibly difficult to produce and is rather expensive. It’s such a pity... I thought that only the best of materials would be deserving to be used to make an apology present... I guess you can’t wear it. I’ll just make another copy of the cardigan with some normal-range silk.” Sighing, the bluenette pretended to mull in sadness for a few seconds before an idea struck her. “Alya! You aren’t allergic to star silk, right?” 

The flow of conversation redirected suddenly, with the reporter snapping to attention and nodding eagerly as she realised what was about to happen. 

“Then... Since I’ve spent so long on this, I don’t want it to go to waste... Why don’t you have it, instead?” Offered Marinette with a sweet, shy smile on her face. 

Lila, still caught up in shock by the reveal of the material— Was then slammed with a wall of flaming anger as Alya squealed, coddling the soft, fluffy material that made the cardigan the exquisite product it was. 

“Marinette’s right,” Adrien chipped in with his own two cents, “Father can rarely get his hands on that material— It costs a fortune, and if hand-made... It takes forever.” 

“Oh, I wove the silk by myself,” Marinette added shyly after Adrien’s contribution, “So I apologise if it’s not up to the quality of industry-level star silk.” 

The reporter gushed, still cooing and running her hands over the gorgeous threads of fabric that made up the cloud-like base of the cardigan, eyes sparkling and the details of the embroidery. 

Marinette smiled, returning to her seat without a fuss. The rest of the class continued to pass the pastries around, the perfect description of ‘ignorance is bliss’ as they pretended as if they couldn’t see the way Lila was shaking in anger. Alya, on the other hand, could see nothing but the garment in her hands, her ‘best friend’ having become invisible for the time being. 

Just as well that it turned out this way, Marinette hummed, twirling her pen in hand, Let that be my departing gift to Rena Rouge. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Tomorrow arrived like clockwork, never late and always on time. The crowd of students clamouring by the front of Francois Dupont hushed to silence as they parted for two dark-haired women, both of which were giving off waves of confidence. Simple conversation flowed between the two, who were perfect examples of elegance and grace, their traditional-inspired attire complementing the royal-like aura they had. 

“This dress is really lovely, Marinette,” Kagami smiled gently, admiring the way the fabric flowed around her. The designer had gifted her friend with a maroon-coloured hanfu-inspired dress, complete with hand-sewn embroidery of a golden dragon curled around Kagami’s waist and neck. The dress was completed with a pleated skirt that went all the way to the heels. At first, the fencer was reluctant about the skirt due to the limited maneuverability, but then Marinette revealed that the skirt was very simple to take off as it was just tied around the waist. 

“You look gorgeous in it. It suits you.” Marinette replied, dressed in a similar looking dress. Her hanfu-inspired dress was light pink in colour, with silver threads depicting cranes flying about freely. The pleated skirt was grey in colour, lined with a soft circle of white. 

Kagami blushed slightly. “Thank you.” Briefly, the Japanese girl wondered why on Earth Marinette would go and embroider a dragon onto her dress— Was it purely a coincidence, or...? 

“I’m really glad you decided to transfer here,” Marinette smiled softly, her dark blue bangs framing her face as the rest of it was gathered into a braid that Kagami had helped weave. “It’s going to be nice! I’ll get to see you a lot more often.” 

“We’re in different classes, though.” Frowning, Kagami wondered if she should request a change of homeroom. 

“For now.” The designer winked playfully. “Oh, I have to get to class. See you during lunch?” 

Without waiting for a reply, the blue-eyed girl moved away gracefully, leaving Kagami in confusion. 

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“Good morning,” Marinette greeted gracefully, sweeping into the classroom with her bag over her shoulder and a package in her hands. This package was clearly not as exquisitely-wrapped as the one from the day before, as it was just brown paper and some rough string. 

Alya brightened at the sight of her friend, shrinking away slightly whenever Lila tried to say anything. Sure, the reporter did shake off the initial reaction and respond to whatever her ‘best friend’ said, but the damage had been done. 

“Here’s your new cardigan. It’s made from the same material as your shirt,” Marinette smiled warmly, placing the package on Lila’s table. “It’s a little different from the one I brought yesterday, but I still poured in all my emotions when I made it, so I hope you’ll accept it.” 

Through a gritted smile, the Italian thanked the designer, clenching her fists under the table. That was the second time in two days she had to thank Mari-brat! She swore that if she had to do it again a third time, she was going to slap someone. 

“Oh, Marinette!” Alya called out excitedly, wearing the cardigan that was originally supposed to be Lila’s. “This cardigan is so soft! It’s really amazing to wear! As expected of you, girl!” 

The bluenette stared back at the reporter, wavering for a bit. She had a feeling that Alya wanted something from her... 

“So... I was wondering...” The reporter’s expression turned sheepish, with Marinette’s internal thought-train going ah, there it comes— “Could you remove this and put my name instead?” Alya picked up the corner of the cardigan, pointing to the inside of the garment, where ‘Lila Rossi’ was embroidered on. 

“Ah...” Marinette didn’t even have to fake her nervousness. We already agreed on this, She told herself, No more doing free stuff for people. No more. “Sorry, Alya. My parents need a lot of help in the bakery recently,.. You know how it is! Family always comes first. I’ve already taken out a lot of time to make the cardigan for Lila... And I promised Kagami I’d go out with her this weekend. I’m afraid I don’t have time...” 

There was no missing the way Alya’s face fell instantly. “Couldn’t you put off Kagami for me? Aren’t we best friends?” 

“I thought Lila was your best friend,” Feigning an expression of innocence, Marinette tilted her head slightly. “You shouldn’t go around saying things like that, Alya. You might hurt Lila’s feelings. Besides, a promise is a promise. I wouldn’t want to hurt Kagami’s feelings either. Not to mention— I gave you that cardigan for free. That was two weeks’ worth of hard work. I’m afraid I don’t have the ability to take time out to alter it for free either. If you really want to get it done, you could ask an external tailor to do it for you. I know a few who can do really good embroidery.” 

Alya faltered. “But... We used to be best friends...” 

Snorting mentally, Marinette continued to hold her calm composure. “Like I said, you really shouldn’t say that, Alya. Lila might get upset and we don’t want to hurt her feelings— Right, Adrien?” 

The blonde jumped when the conversation turned to him out of nowhere. All of a sudden, every eye in the classroom was fixed on him. “R— Right, of course.” He said, forcing out each word. 

Satisfied, Marinette nodded, still wearing her ever-so-kind smile. “Exactly.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Hey, why don’t we all go out and have a picnic outside during lunch?” Alya suggested loudly, jumping up as soon as the lunch bell rang. “Marinette, you can come along too!” Something inside the reporter’s chest was stirring, and with the events of the past few days, Alya felt like she just had to quench that unsettling feeling— And the first step to that was to mend things with Marinette, even though it was the bluenette’s fault for always having been biased to Lila. Alya smiled, proud of herself. She would be the bigger person, she would forgive Marinette, she would integrate the designer back into the class again. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marinette replied just as quickly, “We don’t know what Lila might be allergic to— She could easily trigger a reaction if we go out, especially since it’s spring.” 

A collective choir of groans rounded the class. 

“Well, I’m going to go back to the hotel to have a first-class meal,” Chloe turned her nose up at her classmates. “... Dupain-Cheng, would you like to come?” 

Shock painted the faces of the whole classroom. Did Chloe just... Ask Marinette something... Politely? 

“I’d love to take that offer, Chloe.” Responded the bluenette, graceful and flawless as ever. “Perhaps tomorrow?” 

“Suit yourself. They’re serving lobster today.” Chloe huffed. “If you’re really that busy, then fine. We can discuss...” The Mayor’s daughter trailed off as she blushed. 

The bluenette giggled knowingly. “You’d like to commission a dress from me, right?” 

“... No.” 

“...” 

“... Maybe.” 

“Alright.” Marinette nodded. “Then maybe it’ll be more convenient if I head over to the hotel after school. I’ll need to take your measurements and we can discuss the prices after.” 

“Whatever.” Chloe waved her away haughtily, a poor effort to cover up her embarrassment. “Sabrina. Let’s go.” 

“Chloe?” Alya guffawed. “Why are you commissioning something from Marinette?” 

Rolling her eyes as if Alya had just asked the stupidest question ever, Chloe answered plainly. “Because she’s one of the up-and-rising designers in the industry? Have you seen what Dupain-Cheng is wearing today? Celebrities are already fighting for spots in her commission list. Even my mother and Gabriel Agreste acknowledge her talent. I’m not dumb, Cesaire. I can recognise a future fashion queen when I see one.” 

Wow, Marinette breathed, looking at the stunned faces around the room, Chloe sure knows how to create an impression. 

“W— Well.” Stuttered the reporter after Chloe made her big exit. “Then... What about going to the bakery for lunch?” 

“Didn’t Lila say she saw a rat in the bakery the last time she visited it?” Marinette pointed out. “The health officer checked the surveillance and the claim was dismissed, of course, because my parents make sure the bakery is as hygienic as possible— But I’m sure Lila is traumatised from that incident. I wouldn’t want to force her to come along to the bakery— And we wouldn’t want to leave her out either, right?” 

This elicited another round of groans. 

Oh, I am enjoying myself way too much, Marinette chuckled mentally. 

“Then— Then...” Alya struggled visibly before she was put out of her misery. 

“It’s fine, Alya.” The designer reassured her. “I wouldn’t want to bother Lila. I’m sure she’s still upset at me. You guys go ahead. I have to go back to the bakery to help my parents out. See you guys after!” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Slam! 

Lila fumed, hand still pressed on her locker door. What. The. Hell. Was Mari-brat trying to do? She didn’t miss the way some of her classmates sent her unsatisfactory looks after that pre-lunch stunt that Marinette had pulled. 

And what was the thing about high-and-mighty Chloe commissioning from Marinette? 

Sure, Lila would admit that the cardigan that the designer made was indeed gorgeous, and the fabric was smooth and velvety, a quality unlike any of the clothing that Lila had ever had the privilege to touch— But surely a lowly brat like Dupain-Cheng couldn’t be that popular... Right? 

Dammit, hissed the Italian girl, Maybe I should’ve tried being friends with Mari-brat instead of Cesaire. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Is that... Marinette and Kagami?” Nino gaped, prompting Alya to turn around. It was true— Walking up the steps of Francois Dupont together were the two blue-haired girls, a gentle smile dancing on Kagami’s lips as Marinette talked animatedly, her hands waving around quickly to further elaborate her point. 

Students lounging around the entrance for lunch couldn’t tear their eyes off the two and their matching dresses. Sure, the two girls had walked into school the same way that morning— But now that the afternoon sun was high up in the sky, the golden and silver embroidery was glinting luminously, revealing the true caliber of Marinette’s craft. 

“But... They’re rivals.” Stuttered Alya. She just couldn’t understand... Weren’t they supposed to hate each other? 

“They both like Adrien but they can still get along,” Nino remarked thoughtfully, taking a bite from his sandwich. “So Marinette wasn’t lying about going to meet Kagami yesterday.” 

Alya was silent. 

“Alya? What’s wrong?” Worried, Nino put a hand around his girlfriend’s shoulder, care and concern shining through his honest eyes. 

“If... If Marinette doesn’t get jealous or biased over someone who also likes Adrien...” Alya started quietly, eyes still fixed on the two girls, “Then why was she so against Lila?” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Mlle. Bustier?” The teacher looked up at the voice of her favourite student. Fondly, she smiled. Marinette had finally seen the light and changed her ways, becoming the helpful, generous, kind Marinette that served as a great example for her peers. “May I make an announcement before class ends?” 

“Of course, dear.” Mlle. Bustier gave permission instantly— Marinette was taking up the reins of leadership again! The teacher couldn’t help but do a happy dance internally. 

“I have an announcement to make, so if everyone could listen, I’d be really thankful.” Marinette started, her clear blue eyes meeting those of her classmates. 

She took a deep breath. This is it. I’ve done what I needed to do, now it’s time to finish the job. 

“These past two days... Have been great,” Marinette started wistfully. “I really missed hanging around everyone, just like we did before,” Before you all turned your backs on me and stabbed me when I wasn’t looking, “But I can’t deny— And neither can you— That the things that have happened... They had a really deep impact. And I’ve realised that I can’t just ignore that damage that has been done.” The damage that has been done to me. “So, for the better of everyone— I’ve decided that I... Will transfer classes.” 

It was as if an explosion had gone off in Mlle. Bustier’s classroom. 

“Girl! You can’t do that!” Alya exclaimed in dismay, “We can fix things! Everything has been going well these few days, haven’t they?” 

“Dudette! Honestly, we forgive you.” Nino sighed, “Things just aren’t the same if you’re not here anymore.” 

Adrien didn’t say a word, but the imploring gaze he wore said enough. Please don’t leave me here alone. We promised we’d fight together, right? As long as both of us know... 

Marinette held her hand up to silence them, and the classroom, just as swiftly, became the deadly silence that followed post-disaster. “I understand. But once again, this is for the better,” — Of my mental health, “I’ve talked to Mlle. Mendeliev, and she’s agreed to take me in. I believe that once the changes have taken place, we can all grow more freely without restrictions.” 

In the corner, Mlle. Bustier was tearing up and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. 

“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette turned to her teacher, no malice in her eyes. “I’ll be under Mlle. Mendeliev’s care now.” 

“Marinette...” The teacher sobbed quietly, with Chloe shooting her a look of disgust from the front row. 

“It’s not going to be easy for any of us,” Marinette turned back to the class, “But with time, I’m sure we will all prosper. Especially since you will now be under the care of our one and only Lila Rossi.” 

Adrien looked like someone had just killed a puppy in front of him. 

“Since I am the current class president, I thought I’d pass on the duties onto the most capable person in our class.” Marinette explained warmly, never moving her gaze away from the bewildered Lila. “Lila has the most connections in our class out of all of us, and she’s met so many CEOs and entrepreneurs that she must know a lot about organising and planning. I’m sure you can do it, Lila, but...” She paused. “You can handle it, right?” 

“Y— Yeah. Of course.” Lila stuttered. 

“You promised the class that you’d get BTS to perform for the year-end fundraiser since you were supposed to be in an arranged marriage with their youngest member, Jungkook.” Marinette continued, God I am enjoying myself too much honestly, but I ain’t going to stop now, “And you said you could convince your godfather, Bruce Wayne, to allow the class to go to Wayne Enterprises for this year’s class trip.” 

“She said she could convince Tony Hawk to give me an internship, too!” Alix chipped in. 

“And that she’d bring me along the next time Prince Ali asks for her help for a charity cause!” Rose smiled. 

“She said she’d introduce me to the CEO of Graham Films!” Nino’s eyes shone at the idea. 

The class continued to talk all over one another until Marinette silenced them once more. “Now, now. Let’s not overwhelm Lila. We wouldn’t want her to be overworked or to feel like the expectations are set too high, right?” 

The class agreed, nodding along. 

Marinette made eye contact with Lila, offering her a sweet smile as she did so. Lila, on the other hand, had no taste for such politeness. Instead, she straight-out glared at the former class president. 

This is your problem now. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette! I was hoping to catch you before you went home,” Alya panted, having been able to find the bluenette in the locker room before the designer slipped out of her reach. “You... You’re really serious about leaving?” 

“Yeah.” Smiled Marinette, organising her textbooks into her bag, dusting down her skirt. Noticing Alya’s crestfallen expression, she took the initiative to continue the conversation. “Is there anything else, Alya?” 

“Did you... Did you really hate Lila because she liked Adrien, too?” The reporter asked somewhat timidly. 

Marinette giggled. Normally, when the girl giggled, you could hear a gentle tinkling of wind chimes— But at that moment, Alya heard the freezing winds on Mount Everest instead. “Don’t be silly, Alya. All this over a boy? Besides, I’m over him.” 

“Then...” Alya swallowed difficulty. “Lila... Really was lying this whole time?” 

The gaze that swept across the reporter was stone cold, and it made Alya feel as if she was dangling over a valley of jagged rocks. “What do you think, Alya?” Even so, the bluenette maintained a sweet smile. 

“She was. She was lying the whole time.” Alya suddenly felt as if she had a shortness of air. “This whole time—” 

“Oh, good for you. You finally learned how to see further than one feet in front of you.” Marinette hummed. “I’m proud of you, really. But I’m afraid that I don’t have the time to listen to you slowly come to conclusions after I’ve tried making you see sense for the past half a year. I tried to stop you from ruining your futures, but I guess determination was always one of your good traits.” 

Alya slipped to the floor, having lost the feeling in her legs. She placed one hand against the lockers for support as she shook, weakly looking up at the girl who she was once so proud to call her ‘best friend’. 

“Marinette?” Kagami’s voice rang through the room, indicating that the girl was waiting at the doorway. “You said you were heading to Bourgeois’s hotel after school— Would you like a ride?” 

“That’d be nice, Kagami. A moment.” The designer looked down at her friend and smiled, albeit a little sadly this time— And then she lowered her voice. 

“Determination was always one of your good traits.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette,” Adrien perked up at the sight of the bluenette leaving the school doors— Side by side with Kagami, who looked ready to draw a sword and start a duel then and there. 

“This’ll just take a minute, ‘Gami.” Marinette reassured, gently patting her friend’s arm. “Why don’t you get in the car first? It looks like it’s going to rain.” 

Reluctantly, Kagami nodded. “Alright.” Warily, the fencer stepped down the stairs and into the car— But even as she sat in the vehicle, she watched over her fellow bluenette like a hawk, ready to jump out and challenge the blonde if the situation called for it. 

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Luckily for him, the designer decided to start the conversation. 

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Marinette smiled softly. A few months ago, when she looked at Adrien, she would see the kind, generous, pure-hearted boy with the finest golden hair and the brightest green eyes. Now? All she saw was a spineless, sheltered, passive child that was afraid of confrontations. 

“For what?” Adrien looked at Marinette, and no longer did he see the cute, pigtail-adorning girl that would blush fiercely everytime he tried to talk to her. Instead, he saw a beautiful, young woman, a rock that had pulled through all the odds to become a vibrant, iridescent diamond. 

Marinette was glowing with confidence, her presence diffusing into the air around her and triggering eyes to look up every time she walked by. There was something about the way she held herself that just made the woman demand awe and respect from those that crossed her path. The old ‘Clumsinette’ had been shed like an old snake skin to reveal a treasure, a better version of the bluenette that had always been waiting for her time to come. 

Bluebell eyes met green ones just as rain began to patter down onto the streets of Paris. Marinette glanced up slightly, not at all bothered as she smoothly retrieved an umbrella from her bag, holding it out for the blonde to take. A flush of deja vu burst through Adrien’s veins and through his skin as he took it with a mumbled thanks, eyes blown wide as Marinette let loose her hair from her ponytail, pulling her blazer over her head to avoid getting her head wet. 

Adrien could only gape as Marinette uttered familiar words back to him, a knowing smile dancing across her lips as she ran off into the rain as if an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The bluenette looked lighter, brighter, ready to take flight and soar towards the success that her crops of hard work had finally started to bear. Before the blonde model knew it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had slipped out of his grip, already spreading her multi-coloured wings to land among the stars. 

“Thank you for telling me to take the high road.”  

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

this was both satisfying and tiring to write... 

[shoutogepi]

Scream for Me

Kaminari Denki

word count : 5.7k

[ ✘ (nsfw 18+) ]  

themes : villain!denki, yandere!denki, implied stalking/obsession, DUBCON, coercion, quirk use… denki has a tongue piercing

bio : It’s been two years since your hero best friend fell off the face of the earth, and since then, he’s resurfaced as a prominent villain. You don’t want anything to do with him. So naturally, he comes to you.  

author’s note : this is for bnha bookclub’s bingo event, for which i can now cross off the “hero turned villain” slot ;) once again this fic contains DUBCON so please beware before you continue… also so sorry if denks is OOC in this— i am aware that in canon he does not have a mean bone in his body 

side note: this fic is dedicated to @fanfic-me-up​ , the beautiful bday queen! she deserves the best, so please wish her a happy birthday! also, a great big thanks to @hawks-senseis​ and @boom-bakugou​ for beta’ing <3

also available on AO3 here

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄳eep bass rattles your bones as you step around the glowing dance floor, drunken bodies bumping into your sides carelessly. It’s some electronic song pumping through the speakers and causing your ears to buzz, your tongue sliding over your lip as you make your way back to your tabe. The group you’re with barely even notices your return, your adventure proving victorious as you harbor a sweating glass in each hand. The fruity concoction initially tastes sweet on your tongue, the burn of the alcohol bleeding in afterwards and making your face twist in a bitter scowl. So much for the bartender’s lame attempt at flirting— his promise of “you won’t be able to taste the vodka at all!” falling flat.

Your flavor of the night throws back a shot from the table, the sticky glass clinking loudly as he slams it down. He’s cute enough— your classic type: tall and slender, a sleeve decorating his tan arm with swirls of ink, dark hair hanging over his bright eyes, and pink lip adorned with a silver ring. In your opinion, he’s the hottest of his group, which had joined your pack of girls nearly as soon as you’d entered the threshold.

Yet for some reason, you find yourself restless as he grinds against you, his hands firm atop your hips. Maybe he isn’t as hot as you think… or maybe you’re not trying to score tonight. Ha, as if that could ever be the case. Maybe you’re not drunk enough, or maybe you need to top off with something better than alcohol. Rolling your neck, you place your head on his shoulder, his hands immediately gliding up your torso to pull you closer against him. You can feel his semi through his jeans, and the recognition of it makes you smirk, closing your mascara-framed eyes and allowing him to sway you to the beat.

And you try to enjoy it— you really do.

But still, there’s something off.

There’s this itchy feeling of dread crawling across your skin, spreading over your body and seizing your heart with an icy fist. The poor muscle starts to beat furiously against its sudden confines, your eyes opening and moving to survey your surroundings— feeling like prey about to meet its certain fate.

That’s when you see him.

He’s right by the exit of the club, illuminated by the harsh fluorescent glow of the neon signs on the wall. Physically speaking, you can’t see much of him— he’s all the way across the room in a crowded, dinghy club— barely enough light for you to see his face. And yet, those haunting, golden eyes pierce straight into you. You freeze, bottom lip allowing gravity to take it prisoner, your breath caught midway in your shriveling lungs. The guy you’re dancing with doesn’t seem to notice, only pressing his hips harder into your ass.

It feels like you’re ripping roots from the earth as your feet move on their own accord, first one trembling step— then two. Now that you’re level with him on the main dance floor, he’s swallowed up into the tangling sea of shadowy limbs. You try to push your way over to the exit, but by the time you stumble out of the crowd, he’s nowhere to be found.

Whatever kind of buzz you had previously felt is instantly cut short. Trepidation oozes into your veins, chilling your bones and sending shivers all the way to your toes. On one hand, you want to believe in yourself— you’re sure that you’d seen him— but on the other hand, dismissing the sighting of the man would be much easier to do. And you hadn’t seen him in front of you in two years… the thought makes your chest feel tight, torn and bleeding with discomfort.

You miss him so much.

But even if you could see him again, he’s not the same boy you adored anymore… no, that would be impossible. And he could never be here, in this club, either. It might not be the best part of town, but it’s still a bustling spot in the city night life. There’s no way someone with his level of fame could just show up to a popular club like this on a Friday night, undetected.

So you write it off— take the easy way out. You’re drunk, there’s a lot of people here, and you were probably just looking for a reason to get off that guy at the table. That’s all it can be; your mind playing tricks on you. Of course, you hadn’t seen him.

That would be ridiculous.

Impossible.

It’s no surprise you feel sick to your stomach at the very idea of seeing him. Whether it’s because your stomach is filled to the brim with butterflies, or because your body feels shocked— as if his electricity crawls across your skin and makes your hairs stand on end— you’re not sure. Making your way to the back of the club, you somehow find the hallway void of a bathroom line. Never had you been graced with such a blessing, and you quickly make your way toward the door, giddy to be able to have a moment to yourself.

Once you’re inside the room, you take a moment to examine yourself in the mirror. Your hands planted on the countertop, you lean in close, eyes searching your reflection for anything that could be off. You still just don’t feel right, and you’re not sure why. The walls are colored in a dark turquoise hue, the black marble counter opaque and matching the dark stalls behind you. Fingers fidgeting for something to do, you pluck the lipstick out of your comically small purse, lining your lips before blotting the color with a paper towel.

A low wolf whistle splices the still air of the lavatory, echoing lowly on the tiled walls.

Every cell in your body is frozen, your gaze trained on a pair of yellow, slitted eyes over your shoulder. He’s slipping out of one of the stalls, taking his time as he crosses the room only to turn the lock on the door. Your heart starts to beat again at the realization that he’s really here, and that he’s just sealed the two of you in together.

Escape is the only thing on your mind right now, your eyes darting between the door, the vents on the ceiling, and the window that looks just a bit too small for you to wiggle through. Fear begins to bubble into your bloodstream, burning you with its sheer cold, like dry ice on naked skin.

“Cat got your tongue?”

His voice is just like it was before he disappeared, but all signs of his playful, positive attitude are absent. Instead, he sounds almost bored… and there’s this tone to his inflection that feels like cough syrup— thick and sticky, leaving a rancid taste at the back of your tongue.

Poison.

He keeps his distance from you, content to just watch your gaze in the reflection before you. You can’t help but look at him; too terrified that if you look away, he’ll be gone and then there’s no denying you’re crazy. You’ll have to get checked into an asylum or something, because you’re certified insane— nevermind if you’re imagining him— you can’t help but think he looks good. Really good.

Dressed in black from head to toe, he looks like he’s one with the shadows of the night. Even his hair is black now, raven strands perfectly framing his handsome face. The yellow streak in his hair is in the shape of a lightning bolt, colors inverse of what they used to be, when he was a peppy blonde. But those days are long over now, and the snakebite piercings adorning his full lower lip draw you in, much to your dismay. He looks damn good in his distressed jeans, the leather jacket sitting just right on his shoulders. And just like the last time you’d seen him, a tight, black choker sits perfectly on his throat.

“What, hmm? Nothin’ to say, sunshine?” Oh, that name. The term he had so affectionately coined you when you were still just classmates. When you were his best friend.

It takes a moment for you to think, and another for you to actually force the words out of your mouth. “What are you doing here, Denki?” You sound totally breathless, and it’s partly because you are— you’re completely shocked that he’s here, with you, in some nightclub bathroom. The balls he has to be out in public right now…

“And I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he says, lips curled into a displeased frown, and those big, golden eyes trailing up and down your body, assessing you in the same manner you had him. But he doesn’t stare; he’s already looked at you for plenty long. He’s over just simply looking at you. “It’s so good to hear your voice, Y/N.”

You don’t know what to say to him. After two years of Kaminari Denki dropping off the face of the earth, and more recently appearing on Japan’s ‘Most Wanted’ list instead, he’s come to you out of the blue. How did he know where to find you tonight? Does he have someone watching you? Is he… Does he still have those feelings that he used to pretend didn’t exist?

“Why are you here?” You try again, whispering, like anyone will be able to hear you over the thumping bass outside. But Denki hears you, leisurely stalking over to you.

Whipping around, your trembling fingers grab onto the edge of the countertop. You’ve read the articles, heard the news. You know the things he’s done. The terrible, unspeakable things.

Denki stops a step away from you, tongue glazing over his lip as his eyes rake over your front. A flash of metal between his lips catches your eye, glimmering in the harsh overhead lights before it’s gone.

“To see you, of course.”

He’s close now, and you can see that he’s taller, broader— more muscular than before, even underneath his jacket. His physique distracts you from his words for a moment, softening the devastating blow of fear. Your widening eyes jump up to lock with his, his gaze casting a sinister gleam over your rapidly-heating cheeks.

Denki closes the distance between you, gripping onto the side of the counter and leaning down to hang his face in front of yours. He smells slightly like smoke, stale cologne wafting onto you as his hips gently meet yours, trapping you against the sink behind you. His belt buckle presses onto your stomach, digging into you as he takes a deep breath beside your neck. You’re paralyzed beneath him, sucking in a small gasp as his fingers trace over the bottom of your spine, tingles shooting through you.

“Did you miss me? Because I missed you,” he murmurs against your throat, the cool gold of his earring dragging on your jaw. “So fucking much.”

His fingers trail to the back of your hips, palms landing on your dress as he squeezes your waist and pulls you closer to him. Your chests bump together, your cleavage pressing onto his front. Your hands fly up to push his shoulders, hating how your feelings clash against each other, turmoil brewing in your stomach. “Let me go,” you plead, spine stiffening as his fingers knead at you.

Denki chuckles, nipping at your skin and trailing the tip of his tongue along the column on your throat. “That’s not how this works, sunshine.” He pulls back to drop his gaze to your lips before his honeyed eyes swallow yours again. Wicked intent swirls in those caramel irises, tendrils of terror snagging tight around your throat. And yet, some small, sick part of you feels safe, feels comfortable in front of him— as if he’s the same guy who would stay up all night long with you just to play the latest video game, or do something crazy like make cupcakes or drive to the beach at four in the morning. As if you don’t know what he’s done since the last time you’ve seen him.

At the recollection of those unspeakable deeds, you whimper, heavy tears pooling along your lower lashes. “I’ll scream,” you threaten, though it doesn’t come out sounding like much of a threat.

A wide smirk curls the corners of his lips, that tongue jewelry making another brief appearance as he opens his mouth and leans into you. “You think anyone’s gonna hear us?” A dark brow rises on his forehead, amusement washed over his sharp features. “You’ll scream when I tell you to.”

Heat surges through your stomach at his crude suggestion, your body betraying you as his hands slide underneath your dress, his bare palms cupping your ass and distributing a confident squeeze. His fingers inch in between your legs, reaching out to ghost over your pussy through your thin, sheer thong.

The tough girl act proving fruitless, you decide to switch tactics. “Please, Denki, I don’t want to—”

“Why are you so fuckin’ wet, then?” He growls, fingertips pressing against your slit harder. He brings one hand before you, forcing you to look at the strands of slick that stretch between his fingers. Your face heats up, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. How could your body be so turned on right now, and your feelings so conflicted? The tension inside of you only worsens when he dips the fingers into his mouth, making a show of his pierced tongue stroking against them.

Finally his lips crash against yours, desire bursting inside of you and leaking into every corner of your body. You can’t move, can’t think, with his lips on you, moulding and pushing onto yours like waves in the restless sea. There’s passion behind his caress, a motive squandered and swept underneath the rug for far too long. He’s wanted you since high school, and now, he can finally have you.

“Please,” you beg quietly as you pull away, digits curling into the collar of his jacket, your lip trembling and a tear shooting down your face, “Denki, you’re scaring me.”

“Aw, cutie— no need to be scared,” Denki replies, rubbing the soaked front of your underwear as he smothers your neck with the gentlest kisses. “I’m the same old, lovable goof as before. Your Denki, your sparky. Well, one thing has changed… I waited for so long trying to think of something, anything that could make you realize how good I would treat you. I wasted so much time just playing my part as your best friend, a shoulder for you to cry on while your worthless boyfriends would betray you. It took me a while before I figured it out though—” he pauses for dramatic effect, leaning in so your lips brush “—that you love being treated bad.”

You’re speechless as his mouth conquers yours again, his tongue surprisingly sweet as it slides into your mouth with practiced ease. Your body is frozen solid for one whole second before your dignity withers and dies right before your very eyes, your thighs clenching together on either side of his intruding hand. His lips pull into a smirk, rough hands gathering the backs of your thighs before he sets your ass on the edge of the counter. It should be embarrassing how easily he peels your legs apart to stand between them, the heat leaking from his hard, jean-clad cock onto the inside of your thigh.

Noticing your stubborn hesitance, he sighs lowly as he takes his lips from yours, issuing a shockingly pleasant kiss to your cheek. “Don’t worry, sunshine,” he says, hand landing on your jaw to steer your gaze directly into his. For the first time tonight, you feel like you see the faintest glimpse of him. The real him, the one you loved and laughed and cried with. He’s sincere. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise. Unless… you’re into that?”

Your hand sails through the air automatically, an ingrained, pre-programmed response to his naughty suggestion. Only it doesn’t quite reach its target, for Denki’s strong grip keeps your wrist from moving any further. With a click of the tongue and a curt, unamused glance, he shoves your wrist back, pinning it against the cold mirror behind you. His other arm wraps tight around your waist, your bodies flush against each other.

“Bad girl. You gonna make me hold you down the whole time? That’s no fun,” he admonishes in your ear, hand scooping your ass through your dress and pressing you up against him. His erection digs into your thigh, hot and hard against your shivering skin, even through his jeans. “C’mon baby, m’gonna make you feel so good.”

You had sobered up at the sight of him, but now a new kind of intoxication sweeps through you, knocking you off your metaphorical feet and throwing you into the deep end of a sticky, ambrosial pool of desire. There’s no way you can say that you’d never thought of Denki ravaging you— you’d thought plenty about it, actually— but you’d never pictured it going quite like this. Even so, you can’t deny that his new look looks especially good in him, and as he’d previously pointed out, your body was more than happy to entertain him.

So you give in.

You only tilt your head back the slightest bit, and Denki’s already descending down onto you, starving tongue greedily slithering down your front. A hand tugs down the front of your dress, his lips wandering over the tops of your tits in your bra. Teeth dragging the silky material down, he groans as your bare chest is exposed, nuzzling a cheek against you as he begins to suck and nip at your flesh. The cool metal of his piercing beside the wet heat of his tongue washing over your nipples makes you moan, your free hand slapping over your mouth in mortification. But Denki only moans back, the lustful noise making your cunt twitch, longing for his attention.

Eager to please, he lets go of your wrist, maneuvering you in his hands so he can easily slide your thong to the side. His thumb dips into your entrance, gathering your abundant slick before it floats north, circling your pulsing clit. He swears against your tits, tongue still tracing your areola diligently as a fingertip begins to prod at your drooling hole. You can’t help but whine aloud, your head knocking back and your spine bending to press yourself into his caress. It’s wrong to be into this, you know this, and yet his tongue, his touch, his kiss— it overpowers all logic, your brain turning a blind eye as your body eats up every ounce of attention he offers.

You’re rewarded for your behavior when a slender finger slides into you, then another. The two digits begin to pump into you, curling as they disappear into your pussy, brushing deep inside of you. Denki trails his mouth back to yours, tongues tangling in a furious mess. Your fingers card through his inky locks, nails scraping his scalp as you grapple onto him. Your legs fold around his waist, hips rolling as he fucks his fingers into you tirelessly.

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” he groans, marigold eyes fixed on his digits slipping in and out of your dripping cunt. He sucks in a quick breath when your fingers find his belt, unfastening it and ripping down his fly. “Impatient?” he teases as you undo his pants, the dark denim falling along with his boxers.

Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, standing tall and proud as it pops out of its confines. There’s a thatch of blonde hair at the base of him, the very tip glistening with a swollen bead of pre. Hesitation long gone, you bring a hand to your mouth, allowing the thick saliva from the back of your throat to pool in your palm before you guide it back to him. Denki moans as your wet hand wraps around his throbbing length, squeezing just tight enough to feel how hard he really is. Slowly, you jerk him off, both your mouths parted as you pant, eyes boring into each other. His fingers thrust in turn with your fist, the squelching sound bouncing off the tiled walls.

It feels like your body is on fire, every movement of his hand stoking the flames, and you can only watch, helpless, as the inferno grows larger and livelier. There’s a small pressure forming in your stomach, your slick pouring out around him. You can’t contain your moans any longer, your arm curling around his neck to draw him close before your teeth take the skin of his neck hostage. Your noises of pleasure are hushed as they fall onto his throat, your lipstick smearing on the pale expanse of it.

Denki’s hips begin to move in accord with your hand, movements free and effortless as they greet your slippery fist. His cock is hot and swollen on your palm, veins bulging and rubbing against you. It’s only a matter of time before he’s had enough teasing, taking his fingers from you and swatting away your hand. He pants as he lines up the head of his cock with your glistening cunt, breath uneven. And then he’s pushing into you, stretching your silky walls wonderfully, burying himself inside you to the hilt.

You cry out when his hips bump yours, struggling to keep your half-lidded eyes open. Cheeks feeling hotter than ever, you wrap your other arm around his neck, pussy fluttering around his big cock as you adjust to his size. Surprisingly, Denki starts off slow, gently rocking his hips into yours. He sighs as his lips find yours again, the cold jewelry from his piercings foreign but welcome against your heated skin. He distracts you with his tongue as it slides between your lips, reaching out to greet yours. His fingers knead at your tits, your nipple trapped between his thumb and forefinger. The tingling sensations fluster you as his thrusts start to become deeper, harder— each one gracing your sensitive walls with a rub of his thick veins. His tempo begins to hasten, cock pushing into your scorching, dripping heat just as quick as it retreats. The pair of you are moaning, gasping for breath, too lost in each others’ bodies to bother with worrying about being caught.

“Does that feel good? You like it when I stuff you with my cock, sunshine?” Denki purrs, tugging at your nipple between his fingers. His teeth ghost over your bottom lip, hips slapping loudly against yours as he continues his attack on your cunt. He groans loudly when your walls tremble around him, clenching down as he finds a new angle that allows him better access to your most intimate spots. “Fuck, your pussy fits me so perfectly, so wet and tight… Made just for me.”

Even though his sentiment should be concerning, you find yourself more turned on than ever, your submission leaking out and mixing with the lust surging through your body to create a cocktail of desire stronger than anything you’ve ever felt. Unadulterated moans float out of your parted lips, raw pleasure shooting into you as the head of his cock pounds into your g-spot. Your shaking legs spread on their own volition, welcoming him inside as deep as possible. Gasping his name, your hands slip underneath the hem of his shirt, exploring his warm skin and the taut muscles hidden below. “D-Denki! Oh, fuck!”

Denki growls beside your ear, the sound primal and heated. His pace continues, relentless, as he lets his hands fall from your tits, opting to clutch onto a thigh and hold you open for him instead. “You dunno how long— oh, fuck yes— nngh, you dunno how long I’ve been dreaming about this, Y/N. Y-You, moaning my name like the filthy little slut you are. My slut, my girl… My sunshine— shit!”

You whimper as he pulls out of you abruptly, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your thigh. His wet cock jerks against your pussy, which twitches in response, as if calling out for him and begging for his return. You pull at his hips, desperate for him to be inside of you again, wanting— no, needing for him to stretch you full.

He catches his breath pretty quick, letting out a low chuckle at your impatience. “Got a little too close there… this pussy is even better than I thought it’d be,” he explains, gathering you in his arms and placing you on your feet. He turns you around, pushing your back so you lay nearly flat, bent over the counter. Cock gliding against your slick folds, he evens his breathing as his thumbs pull your cunt apart, golden eyes settling on your twitching hole. Playful as always, he rubs the tip of his length over your entrance, not quite pushing hard enough to actually penetrate you. You watch him in the mirror before you, seemingly entranced in his own show.

“D-Denki,” you swallow your pride, restless to be stimulated again. At the sound of his name leaving your wanton lips, his eyes flicker up to meet yours in the reflection, filled with curiosity and mischief. “Please, put it back in… I… I need you, Denki.” You whisper the words, and it’s honestly a miracle that he hears your plea, for the club music still pounds through the thin door. The embarrassment is overwhelming, forcing you to close your eyes. You can’t bear to meet his gaze, shame coursing through you. Here you are, being ravaged by your ex-best friend, now turned villain, in a nightclub bathroom… begging for his cock, like a whore.

The feeling of his length pressing into your dripping heat shakes you from your shameful thoughts, eyes flying open to meet his caramel gaze again. “Don’t worry, sunshine,” Denki coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek, “I need you, too.”

You can’t fathom any response, his thick length filling you to the brim as his hips jostle yours, completely inside. The stretch is superb with this new angle, the veins on his cock so deliciously stimulating your snug, velvet walls. He draws back, only to snap forward quickly, your legs quivering at the bliss that emanates from the wonderful stretch he provides. His words have a sinfully pleasurable effect on you, a shiver spreading over your form, and your spine bending, ass pressing into him even more.

Denki hums as he begins to hasten the tempo, soft smacks filling the stuffy air inside the room. His cock glides into you easily, lubricated by your copious arousal as you pulse around him. Your ass jiggles as he begins to swing his hips harder, drilling into your slobbering cunt with renewed passion. Rough hands clutch onto either of your arms, holding his own arms straight as he uses the new grip on you to further his momentum.

Stars dance before your eyes, his cock hammering into your most sensitive area. The position he has you in provides just the right angle for him to assault your g-spot, your jaw unhinging as a string of high-pitched moans tumbles from your throat. Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, rolling down your face and spattering against the dirty mirror as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. You try to form the words to warn him you’re about to cum, but you can’t think, let alone speak.

But it seems he doesn’t need your warning, for Denki analyzes your lewd expression in the reflection, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Go on, do it. C’mon sunshine, you can do it. Cum for me, fuck, cum with my cock stretching out your sloppy little hole,” he orders, still slamming into you ruthlessly. “I wanna hear you when you cum, lemme hear that pretty voice of yours— scream for me.”

You hate that his filthy words have such power, but that doesn’t deter your cunt from wringing snug around him, the coil in your stomach compressing tighter and tighter until your vision turns white and your body goes rigid. Waves of euphoria crash over you, sucking you into the sea of pleasure. Your lungs burn as you scream out, pure ecstasy zipping through your every limb. Denki has to stop thrusting, his grip digging into your skin as he struggles to keep his own orgasm at bay. Your pussy constricting around him has him losing his breath, teeth descending onto his bottom lip as he tries not to cum.

Finally your cunt stops seizing, your body relaxing onto the countertop. Your mind is totally hazed, filled with an electrifying fog of post-orgasm bliss. But Denki’s quick to snap you out of it, picking up right where he left off and sending his cock surging into your tender heat. Once again you’re thrown into the vicious throes of pleasure, his cock the only thing you’re able to focus on as it drives into your slippery, gummy walls with ease.

His hands flying to latch onto your waist, he holds onto you tightly as his eyes find yours in the mirror, his orbs meeting your barely-open ones. That same spring is gaining pressure in his own stomach, the moans slipping out of him as good an indicator as any that he’s getting close. Fisting your hair, he pulls you upright, his slender fingers slipping from your tresses to lace around your throat. “Mmmm, m’close baby,” he pants, his hot breath fanning against your ear.

He begins to kiss at your jaw, littering it in affectionate nips and licks. Moving one of your legs so your knee rests on the counter, he pistons into you, hand wandering down to press against your stomach, the tips of his fingers just reaching your clit. Your body stiffens at the sudden stimulation, the bundle of nerves having been forgotten since his cock speared into you. Yet he rubs at it attentively now, fingers dipping down to where his cock draws in and out of you to gather excess slick before he continues.

“Ohhhh, fuck,” Denki grunts, his fingers tightening slightly around your neck. You can still breathe, but the feeling of his hand flush against your throat sends heat to your core, your pussy clutching onto his cock in desperation. “Gonna paint the inside of this sweet little cunt white… fill you up with my cum, nice and full.”

Icy fear trickles into your veins at the premise of him unloading into you, nothing to stop his seed from fertilizing you. “N-Not inside, Denki,” you beg hoarsely, your voice meek and mild, still recovering from your screams. But he doesn’t seem to hear you, or at least, he doesn’t acknowledge you— only continuing his ministrations on your clit and the vicious onslaught of his cock sheathing inside of you. “Please,” you whimper, your arms reaching behind your head to touch him, one hand landing in his silky hair and the other on his shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s right. Beg for my cum… Mmm, love it when you say my name like that, sunshine,” he moans, too wrapped up in his own pleasure to heed your words. Or perhaps he chooses to ignore them, his pace morphing into ragged, unmeasured thrusts, and his hips jerking as he loses himself in your tight, wet heat. “Take it, Y/N— every last fucking drop’s for you,” he whispers in your ear, eyes closed and lashes fluttering on your jaw. He groans as his orgasm tears into him, electricity from his quirk bursting through his body. The energy flows into you, shockwaves seizing over your body as the lightning rolls off of him. Somehow, even though he’s howling out in his own ecstasy, he manages to direct the electric current to the fingers that toy with your clit, sending another orgasm hurtling toward you like a bus with no brakes on the freeway. The static zips through you, quivering your bones and making your body melt like ice cream on a hot summer day. Your cunt milks his cock well, your climax making your walls contract and clamp around him. Searing ropes of his sticky seed land deep inside of you, his cock gushing and emptying his load into your tender heat.

Once the overwhelming pleasure has subsided, your body falls slack in his arms, slightly twitching in recoil from the surge of electricity. Denki coos at you as he catches his own breath, nuzzling into your neck and littering your skin with kisses. He whispers sweet nothings to you as you come back to reality, still subdued from the all-consuming ecstasy that had taken hold of you entirely just moments ago. Slowly he slips out of you, careful to slide your panties back in place to catch his load as it starts to leak out of your aching hole. Moving your leg off the countertop, he turns you around, smiling happily as he fixes your smudged makeup and frazzled hair. Your body is too weak to try to fight him, so you let him hold you against his lithe form as he fixes your dress, covering your ravaged body as best as he can. He takes a moment to rub off the lipstick stains from his skin, buckling his belt before those marigold eyes find yours once again.

“Finally, you’re mine,” he muses, yellow eyes glinting at you under the harsh, fluorescent lighting of the dirty bathroom. He tilts his head as he cups your chin, angling you to look into his intoxicating gaze. “Oh sunshine… what fun we’ll have together.”

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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yayyy my first denki fic :D also my first time writing villain/yandere stuff too... so please be sure to lemme know if you enjoyed!

➥ masterlist

➥ BINGO masterlist

[drabblingdraco]

✬ Unexpected✬ Draco Malfoy x Reader (Smut)

Summary: You’re the younger sister of Harry and you're being sorted into your house. To your surprise, it's not what you expected. Your brother's archenemy then introduces himself to you, but you're unaware of who he actually is.

Warning: smut, swearing

If you are underage please do not read.

A/N: I’m aware y/n should be age 11, but since this is a ~smutty~ imagine, let’s pretend you are of decent age!!

"Don't worry, we both know you'll get into Gryffindor. It's in your blood." Your brother Harry said, trying his best to console you.

You were the infamous younger sister of Harry. Everyone expected nothing but greatness out of you, yet you hadn't even begun classes. You were waiting impatiently to be sorted, it seemed like everyone else was being called before you. You fidgeted with the buttons on your shirt and pulled your skirt down ever so slightly, so it didn't appear too short. 

Harry was staring off into the distance at something, or rather, someone. You followed his gaze over to a platinum blonde haired, attractive boy. You weren't sure exactly who he was or why Harry was locking eyes with him. He had talked about some bitch named Draco who was always making him look bad, as well as pick on him, but you weren't aware of what he looked like.

Your thoughts quickly escaped your mind as you heard your name being called.

"(y/n) Potter." You walked up to take a seat below the sorting hat. Your palms sweating, chest burning, legs shaking.

"Hmm..another one of the Potter's, I see..this is a rather difficult decision..You show many of the qualities in a Gryffindor...we shall put you in..SLYTHERIN!"

"...what?" Your mouth opened, jaw dropping. Harry stared blankly at you.

The Slytherin table cheered loudly. The blonde boy lifted up out of his seat, escorting you to the Slytherin table, snaking his arm around the small of your back. It sent shivers up your spine. He was fine..

You saw Harry making eyes at you, shaking his head. He looked like he could burst into tears. You mouthed I'm so sorry. To which he replied It's okay.

"So..you're a Slytherin. That's quite exciting," the blonde smirked.

"I guess.." you sighed. All you could think about was if Harry was disappointed in you.

"Hey hey, don't fret," he placed a hand on your shoulder. "You will enjoy our house, I promise. We're having a party later to celebrate all the newcomers, you should join."

You thought to yourself what Harry would say, but then again, you are your own person. Just because he's your brother, doesn't mean you don't have a mind of your own.

"Sure, why the hell not," you smirked. Blondie looked at you and chuckled.

Later that evening, after settling into your dorm, you got ready for the newbie party. You put on a semi fitted emerald green dress with black heels. You put your luscious (h/c) locks in a high bun, pulling out some baby hairs to frame your face.

You make your way to the Slytherin common room, it wasn't too far from your own. On your way there, you ran into Harry. You scurried up to him, embracing him in a warm hug. You hadn't talked to or seen him since the sorting ceremony.

"I'm so sorry Harry I-"

"It's ok..it's technically not your fault..just please promise me you'll be careful. You're not like the others. They might try and take advantage of how kind and compassionate you are."

"You know I won't take any shit from anyone," you giggled.

"Please be safe tonight, I don't trust any of those boys.." he trailed off. He looked like he wanted to say more, but inevitably didn't.

You nodded, giving him a peck on the cheek and continuing to find the common room.

You whispered the secret word and the doors opened, presenting a large crowd of people before you. Lots of them were already wasted, meaning you knew you had to catch up. You found some friends near the refreshments table. Your new friend Pansy poured you a drink and held it out to you as you gladly accepted, downing it within seconds you passed the cup back to her, insinuating another. She looked surprised but obliged to your wishes.

Casually sipping on your drink, you caught a pair of grey eyes. He smirked, heading towards your direction as you met him halfway.

"I see you made it," he looked you up and down. "Don't you look ravishing.."

"As do you," smirking as you admired his all black attire paired perfectly with his emerald green tie.

You made your way to one of the several couches in the common room, he followed closely behind you. You crossed your legs as you sat down and your eyes met. He was clearly staring at your silky smooth thighs. He placed his hand on your inner thighs, slightly squeezing as you squirmed.

"Would you like to take this somewhere more private?" You nodded.

He stood up first, sticking his hand out for you. Placing your palm on top of his, he lead you to his prefect room. You watched as he opened the door, pulling you in as he closed it behind you.

He grabbed on to your cheeks and began kissing you roughly. So passionately you felt a wetness beneath your waist. Your hands tore through his hair, pulling every now and then. He let out a slight groan each time.

“I want you now,” he said.

“Take me then.”

He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, just to tease you. Following that he viciously ripped off your dress. Your hair was messed up and as you tried to fix it he grabbed your wrists.

“No, I like it messy.”

You plunged your lips on to his while he unbuckled his belt. You heard the metal fall on to the wood floor.

He hovered over your body as he left sweet and savory kisses on your neck. You sighed, enjoying everything that was happening. Even though you had no idea what blonde boy’s name was, he certainly was making you feel some type of way.

“Wait-“ you paused. He looked up at you with hungry eyes. “What’s your name?”

He looked confused, surely he knew of you because of Harry. You knew he seemed familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. He smirked, letting out a laugh.

He cupped your chin as he said “you really don’t know who I am?” His thumb pads caressing your lips.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t...I have this feeling that I know who you are though,” your cheeks flushed pink of embarrassment.

“Call me Dray.”

“Dray. Cute name.”

“So is y/n..” he placed a small kiss on your lips as you smiled.

“Take me. now,” you smirked.

He was stunned by your comment but obliged. He tore your panties off and pulled his trousers down slightly. You laid down on his silk sheets, your body overcome by the cold.

He smiled down at you as he thrusted his member inside you. You grasped the green bedsheet, huffing and puffing for air. You threw yourself forward and wrapped your legs around him. Next thing you knew, he was lifting you off the bed and pinned you against the wall. As he repeatedly fucked you, the pictures and artwork on the walls began to shake. He was rough, but you weren’t complaining. His tongue slid into your mouth and met yours. You battled to be the Alpha, but when you were in his grasp, you were most definitely Beta.

He brought you back to the bed, this time you were straddling him. You began slowly as he moaned your name. “More y/n, give me more darling.” You started going faster, grabbing his shoulders for support. He knelt downwards towards your collarbone leaving kiss after kiss. He obviously had enough and was about to implode, so he flipped you over. The hair on his forehead became brown from sweat. His muscles were flexed so hard you could see his piercing veins.

He started going as fast as he could, coming to his climax. You had just reached yours, but seeing the look on your face was enough for him. You watched as he came undone inside of you. He let out a large sigh, laying down next to you.

“Dray.” You said, panting.

“Y/n.” He turned his head towards you.

“We should do this again sometime...?” It was more of a question rather than a statement.

“I’d like that very much, love.”

The Next Morning

You woke up in a state of haze. A sleeping Dray laid next to you, snoring till his hearts content. You quickly put your dress and heels back on from last night. Before walking out the door you fixed your hair so it was somewhat unnoticeable that you were fucked to a pulp the night prior.

Slowly and quietly, without waking him, you exited the prefect’s room. You were passing the grand hall as Harry walked by.

“Y/n....? Why are you still wearing your clothes from last night? And why are there black specks under your eyes?”

You checked a nearby mirror to see your mascara had come off.

“Just mascara, no big deal Har.”

“But your clothes..”

“Yeah...I know for a fact neither of us want to have this conversation, so let’s just...not. K?”

“Please just don’t tell me it was Draco..the blonde headed twat.”

“Dra-“ Dray? Draco? You thought to yourself.

Oh shit.

[tothemeadow]

A New Year’s gift from me to you!

~*ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ TᗯO*~

warnings: NSFW, semi-public sex

words: 5.1 k

Prologue | Chapter One

-

“Not interested.”

All it takes is those two words, two dreadful words, and Kyojuro’s groaning in disappointment. Tapping his fingers against the chair’s arms, he pushes his lips out in a pout. Giyuu merely rolls his eyes at him, gaze flicking back to whatever is displayed on the computer’s screen.

It had only been a mere suggestion, nothing more. Go out, get some drinks, maybe find someone to take home. Lord knows how much Giyuu needs to get laid; the guy’s stress is palpable, and Kyojuro wants to help his friends however he can. Maybe all it takes is to get his dick sucked, nice and fucking hard. And, if he plays his cards right, have someone clinging onto his arm by the end of the night.

Kyojuro isn’t an idiot, nor is he blind. Giyuu is beautiful, looking like he stepped right out of the pages of some goddamn fairy tale. Hell, even his bank account is real pretty, every single zero making it even more dazzling. What he means is that Giyuu can have anybody if he truly wanted to. The problem is, however, is that a sack of potatoes has more charisma than the poor man. Giyuu isn’t much of a social butterfly, unlike Kyojuro.

It kind of sucks.

“Aw, come on, man,” Kyojuro groans, “let me take you for a night out. You need some time to sit back and relax. Let someone else take care of you.”

“You’re being awfully persistent about this.”

“That’s because I want what’s best for you, duh. You run some bigshot company and need me to explain that to you? What was the point of you traveling overseas for university if you don’t put that knowledge to use?”

With a sigh, Giyuu turns away from his computer and rests his elbows on his desk. Like the rest of his office, it’s a solid piece of modern, expensive style. The wood gleams with the rays of sunlight pouring in through the windows, looking almost too neat to be believable. There’s not a speck of dust in sight. It’s not the first time Kyojuro’s visited Giyuu’s office, but it always amazes him just how clean and immaculate the space is. It really reflects its owner, his simple yet sleek style.

“Kyojuro,” Giyuu starts, threading his fingers together, “you literally told me you wanted me to take someone home.”

At that, Kyojuro smiles. “And what’s your point? You go to some Ivy League school and not partake in some parties? No keg stands? Beer pong? Fucking the brains out of some busty blonde?”

“Not everyone is a certified sex symbol,” Giyuu states coolly. “You don’t see my face on the cover of magazines advertising an article about some upcoming film where I blow everyone to bits and take a dame to bed.”

“Ohohoho, somebody’s getting frisky, I see. That is a sign, my dear friend. You need to get your dick wet and pronto.”

“Don’t belittle me.”

Raising his hands in mock self-defense, Kyojuro flashes Giyuu a knowing smirk. “You’re only proving my point. And if you don’t want to meet somebody random, why not let me hit up someone I know? I can set you up.”

Giyuu scoffs. “No thanks.”

“Oooo, what about Mitsuri or Shinobu-“

“Don’t ever suggest that,” Giyuu hisses. His entire face scrunches, much like he just tasted something incredibly sour.

Bursting into a fit of laughter, Kyojuro leans forward in his seat, hands gripping onto his sides. “Shit, man, I forget how funny you can be sometimes!” Wiping away at his eyes, he sits back, a spare giggle or two escaping from his lips. “Speaking of Mitsuri… I guess she really hit it off with Idris’ girl’s friend.”

Instead of saying anything, Giyuu merely raises an eyebrow. However, he still looks incredibly disinterested.

“Oh, you remember her, don’t you? The one from the party last week? Long legs, nice ass? I think her name was (y/n)?”

At the mention of your name, Giyuu visibly perks up. Heh. Hook, line, and sinker.

“It’s a damn shame, don’t you think? Somebody so fine got nabbed before I even had the chance to make a move,” Kyojuro continues, willing his voice to take on a wistful tone. He sends Giyuu a wink. “She’s a solid ten, don’t you think?”

The movement is so, so subtle, but Kyojuro knows he’s got Giyuu right where he wants him. Giyuu clears his throat, then – a poor attempt at trying to come off as disinterested. “It’s a good thing Mitsuri found someone she likes so much,” he says, completely bypassing the question.

“Mitsuri likes her, alright; likes her even better in bed.”

It takes all of Kyojuro’s willpower not to laugh, it really does. He can practically see the gears turning in Giyuu’s head, the slight tinge of red blooming on the tips of his ears. Jeez, if it takes this much to get Giyuu flustered, then he’d pay to see what would happen if he took Giyuu to a strip club.

“And I’ll tell you what,” he continues, crossing his legs and cocking his head. “Mitsuri’s willing to share her with the rest of us, but only if she wants it.”

“What… What are you talking about? What do you mean by sharing?”

Clicking his tongue in amusement, Kyojuro uncrosses his legs and shuffles forward, just barely sitting on the edge of the chair. “Exactly what it sounds like, Giyuu. Doesn’t that sound nice? Imagine having a pretty thing like that sitting on your lap.”

Again, Giyuu scoffs. “You’re starting to sound like Tengen.”

“But you didn’t say no to what I just put in your head.”

Giyuu grumbles something under his breath, but it’s too low for Kyojuro to understand. No matter; there’s a knock at the door, then, and in pops Giyuu’s personal secretary’s head. A cute boy – Kamado Tanjiro – with honest eyes and a genuine smile. The earrings he wears swings in his lobes. “Tomioka-san, you’re three o’clock appointment is here. Shall I tell them you’re busy?”

“Don’t worry about it, Tanjiro,” Kyojuro says. Drawing himself up to a stand, he smooths out the wrinkles in his pants and salutes Giyuu with two fingers. “Think about what I said, Giyuu. There’s fun to be had.” With a final smirk, he brushes past Tanjiro and leaves.

-

It’s only been a few days since that experience with Mitsuri, but you can already tell that something’s changed. Granted, you still feel a bit odd about the whole situation, but another, darker side of you is pleased. Daki is more than ecstatic to have you as a sugar sister; before, whenever you’d go shopping with her, you’d only help pick out clothing for her since everything was way too damn expensive. Now, though… Now things are different.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Daki gushes from where she sits. Perched on a fluffy stool in front of her vanity, she carefully applies a set of false eyelashes. “Like, think of all the fun things we get to do together! Don’t get me wrong, Idris is great, but some of those parties he drags me to can be an absolute bore. If you’re there, well, it’s bound to be more fun! Besides, think of all the yummy treats you’ll get to have…”

From your spot on the couch, you guffaw at your friend’s attempt to hype you up. Carefully, you dip the brush back into the bottle; the nail polish Daki picked out is a shade of pastel pink with pearl undertones. She said Mitsuri really had a thing for pretty pink things, so it was only natural for you to fit that bill, obviously.

“Yes, because stuffing my face with macarons and bubbly is how I want to spend my time,” you say, sarcasm dripping heavily from your words.

“Oh, like you wouldn’t love that,” Daki throws right back at you. “Besides, you wanna be extra sweet for Mitsuri, don’t you? Don’t act like Mitsuri didn’t already have her head stuffed between your legs.”

“Daki!” you shriek. You scramble to catch the bottle of nail polish before it spills all over the place. “Don’t say things like that!”

“Pffft, what for? It’s true, you sneaky bitch! You’ve been glowing ever since your date with her! Did I not tell you that sex with Misturi is the bomb?”

“Okay, okay! You were right!” you exclaim, bursting into round of giggles.

Putting her mascara away, Daki gets up from her spot and moves to where you sit on the couch. Lifting your legs, she slithers in next to you and props your feet on her lap. “Give me that,” she says, taking the nail polish away from you. “Are you and Mitsuri going on a date anytime soon?”

As you nod, a sheepish smile grows on your face. “Yeah – she’s taking me to a theatre tonight, actually. I guess there’s some play she wanted to watch with me.”

“Aww, well isn’t that cute!” Daki chirps, not looking away from the task at hand. “Wait,” she says, suddenly looking up at you, “that means I get to play dress up, right?”

Since being Idris’ sugar baby and all, Daki is no stranger to the luxurious lifestyle and the vast amount of clothes and accessories that comes with. Furthermore, Idris even bought her some swanky apartment, filled with top notch appliances, spacious rooms, and yes, you guessed it – a walk in closet. It’s where you sit now, gazing at the numerous wracks of clothing, the shelves of shoes and purses. It put you in mind of Barbie’s closet, actually, with just how many articles of clothing Daki owns.

You guess you could consider yourself lucky that you and your best friend are the same size. Sure, you’ve shared clothes with each other throughout the years, but once she started her “collection” of designer products, it was game over. You became her personal doll, then, and Daki loved every second of it.

The smile on your face grows at Daki’s excitement. “Who else would I have to pick me out the perfect outfit?” you coo. Daki giggles, then, her green eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Chop, chop,” she says, pushing your feet away and standing up. You take a moment to admire the neatly applied nail polish adorning your toes. “I have the perfect outfit in mind for you, and it’s bound to have Mitsuri drooling all over you!”

“Are you sure about that?” you tease, lolling your head to the side.

Scurrying over to a wrack of dresses (all of which are designer, you’re sure of it), Daki pushes some to the side and grabs one that has you gasping. Powder blue in color, the bustier top and layered tulle skirt almost seem more befitting of a princess rather than yourself. Standing up from the couch, you walk over to her, eager to get a better closer. Lacey pastel flower decorate the top layer of tulle and travel up the bustier, all looking so delicate and sweet. It’s a beautiful dress, that much is for sure.

“I’ll do your hair and makeup, too, okay!” Daki exclaims. She really is too sweet for her own good sometimes.

Later that very evening, you’re sitting in the back of a sleek, luxurious car. Mitsuri sits next to you, looking as perfect as always; with her curled hair pinned high on her head, you’re graced with the elegant slope of her neck, the diamond choker wrapped around her throat. A few curly wisps of pink and green hair frame her face, give her a youthful look. She’s so breathtakingly stunning that it’s leaving your throat dry.

Mitsuri busies herself with messaging someone on her phone – she’s already apologized for letting her work get in the way of your date tonight – but you don’t mind, not when you get to gaze at her lovely being. You’ve already began to familiarize yourself with her brand and the creative looks she specializes in: sultry, elegant, and enough to bring a person to their knees. Perhaps that’s what you tell yourself as your eyes scan over her bare skin; it’s for fashion, of course, not because you’re a shameless pervert.

Still, the choker adorning her throat is a bit too enticing, especially with its delicate chain hanging from its center, nestled between the valley of her voluptuous breasts. Why does she always have to have her cleavage on full display around you? Doesn’t she have any idea how much it makes your brain melt?

“You’re staring,” Mitsuri murmurs, her attention still on her phone. The corners of her mouth curl into a smile. “You’re not distracted, are you, sweets?”

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” you whisper. “It’s not my fault that you’re too pretty.”

A pleasant blush blooms on her face. Sparing a moment to glance at the chauffeur, Mitsuri clicks her screen off and puts her phone back into her purse. “Come here,” she says, her voice dripping with honey. Wrapping an arm around your waist, she pulls you closer, barely brushes her glossed lips against your ear. “You don’t want to start something like that, do you? I don’t want to be rude and ruin the back of this car.”

The giggle in your ear is enough to send shivers down your spine. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean, sweets, is that I don’t want to have someone clean your cum off of this leather.”

You gasp as a wave of heat strikes your very core, wraps around your insides and gives them a good squeeze. “Mommy,” you plead, keeping your voice quiet.

“And your hair and makeup look so nice,” Mitsuri continues. “It’d be a shame to ruin it before you get to show it off.”

Shit, Daki was right. Turns out she knew exactly what she was doing.

“All that matters is that Mommy got to see it,” you purr, leaning more into her warm body. Your eyelashes flutter when her soft breast makes contact with your arm. “It doesn’t matter who else gets to see it.”

The grip around your waist tightens. “(y/n)…”

“Kanroji-san, we’re here,” the chauffeur’s voice suddenly cuts in. It’s enough to snap you back to reality; glancing out the window, you’re greeted with the sight of a brightly lit theatre and a line of patrons waiting at the ticket booth.

“My, my,” Mitsuri says, “looks like it’s going to be a packed house tonight. It’s a good thing I booked some tickets ahead of time, huh?” Turning back to you, she flashes a lovely smile and caresses your cheek. “Have you ever sat in a balcony seat before, darling? You’re going to have a great view.”

“Wait, seriously? Aren’t those super… expensive…?” as you trail off, realization dawns upon you. Of course Mitsuri would buy out some of the most expensive seats in the house – it’s only natural of her to do so. Still, the mere idea of how much they even spent throws your mind in for a loop.

“And your reaction makes it even more special,” Mitsuri purrs. “Come on, let’s go get seated while there’s still time.”

Opening the car door, Mitsuri steps out, and then she promptly turns back to you to help. Linking her arm around yours, she leads you inside the theatre; taking some twists and turns, she leads you up a secluded staircase that, in turn, takes you to the proper balcony. A gasp escapes from your mouth before you can stop it. It’s utterly breathtaking from where you are, the large stage set below you, the sea of people swarming to find their own seats.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Mitsuri asks you as she joins you by the ledge. Setting her elbows on the wall, she looks around the theatre, a thoughtful hum vibrating in her throat. “And just think, sweets, that this is all for you.” Turning to you, she perches her chin in a hand. “I’ll show you so many things that you’ll love, darling. It’s the least I can do.”

“Mitsuri,” you murmur. Swallowing thickly, you push back the creeping urge to cry. How did you get so lucky meeting someone so genuinely sweet?

“Hey now,” Mitsuri continues, still using that honeyed tone, “don’t get sappy. If you start to cry, then I’ll start crying as well!”

Beckoning you over, she takes her seat and watches as you take the one next to hers. The balcony itself is small, with enough room only for three seats. And, as far as it seems, you’ll get to spend the entirety of the play alone with Mitsuri, away from wandering eyes. Hands intertwined with hers, the two of you fall into easy conversation and mild flirting to pass the time. Both of you are practically petting each other’s thighs through your dresses when the door opens; snapping hands away from each other, you turn to see who the unexpected newcomer is.

“Giyuu?”

Coming to an abrupt stop at the sound of his name, Giyuu’s eyes widen. Once he sees it’s only you and Mitsuri, he visibly relaxes, his shoulders slumping. “Um… Hello, ladies. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Drawing around the corner, he stands awkwardly before the empty seat. He offers a polite bow, but you notice right away that his eyes refuse to meet yours.

“This is certainly a pleasant surprise!” Mitsuri chirps, a dazzling smile spreading on her features.

“Tomioka-san,” you say, trying to put his nerves at ease, “please, sit down. I don’t bite.”

Still, Giyuu refuses to meet your eyes, but he does as you say and takes the seat next to you. It may be the dim light of the theatre, but you swear there’s a faint blush on his cheeks.

Okay, time to try this again. “Tomioka-san… I wanted to thank you for last time. For trying to comfort me when I was so obviously out of place at that party.”

At that, Giyuu clears his throat, and then he finally looks at you. Instead of saying anything, though, he merely grunts and nods his head. You offer him a small smile.

Just as you remember, he’s devastatingly handsome, his gaze a cold, steely blade. On the outside, he seems incredibly intimidating; dark hair, black getup, sharp eyes. You know there’s more than what meets the eye, and Giyuu is the epitome of that very concept. The aura surrounding him is calming, reassuring. You barely know the guy, only met him once, but you already like him.

“My, Giyuu,” Mitsuri speaks up, leaning forward in her seat so she can look around you, “don’t you look nice! I always told you that you would look great in black on black, but you never listen to me! Now look at you! You look like you just came straight off a runway! Don’t you think so, (y/n)?”

Mitsuri has a point, of course. Dressed in a black suit, black button up, and black shoes, Giyuu is the textbook definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He almost seems flustered by Mitsuri’s comment; he looks to you, an unreadable glint in his eyes. Slowly, you nod, humming your agreement.

“I think he looks absolutely dashing,” you say, a small giggle following afterwards.

Giyuu’s eyes drift down, skim across your pretty dress, but you notice the way they linger over the bits of your bare skin. Hastily clearing his throat, his eyes flicker back up, the blush on his cheeks darkening the slightest bit. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs. “That color really suits you.”

With a smile, you look away, trying to ignore the excited thumping of your heart. Unbeknownst to you, Mitsuri sends Giyuu a glare, but then it melts away into a knowing look. Giyuu catches her eyes, and a silent conversation passes between the two of them.

Perhaps you should’ve paid more attention to them. You should’ve noticed Giyuu’s lingering stares, the way Mitsuri’s hand stayed on your thigh the entire time. But no, you were so enraptured by the play on the stage, stuck in a state of constant awe by the performer’s exquisite ways.

It’s about three fourths of the way through when Mitsuri finally places her lips against your ear, her warm breath fanning across the delicate skin. “Sweets, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, hmm? You’re ruining the experience for Giyuu.” Confused by what she meant, you begin to turn your head to her, but she quickly stops you in your place. “Now, now, don’t make it so obvious. Instead of watching the show, he’s been watching you. I wonder why that is?” She breaks into a low, sultry laugh. You’ve only seen her act this one once, and that was when the two of you…. Well, you know…

“I noticed the way you were looking at him earlier,” Mitsuri continues. “He really is such a pretty man, isn’t he? Especially dressed in all black like that… It’s almost kind of exciting, isn’t it?” Again, she chuckles. “Now, this is entirely up to you, sweets, but I don’t have a problem sharing.”

What? What was that supposed to mean?

“I know, I know, this is all too sudden, but think about it. He’s a pretty man, wouldn’t you agree? I’m not saying you have to, but wouldn’t it be nice to see him in between your legs?”

This time, you snap your head to her. “Mitsuri!” you whisper-yell, “What the hell are you trying to do?!”

“Don’t act so prudish, sweets,” she purrs, her fingers trailing over your jaw. “Just look at him.” Taking your chin in hand, she directs you to look at Giyuu instead. Only one half of his face is illuminated from the light coming from the stage, but you can see the hungry glint in his eyes. “He’s practically undressing you with his eyes, sweets. How does that make you feel?”

“Tomioka-san…”

“Please don’t consider me lewd,” Giyuu starts, his voice just above a raspy grumble. “But I… I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” he confesses. “It isn’t fair to you of me thinking that way.”

Swallowing thickly, you release a shaky breath. “And what were you thinking, exactly…?”

Closing his eyes, Giyuu takes a moment to collect himself. “I want what you and Mitsuri have.”

On your other side, Mitsuri giggles. “Hear that, darling? Isn’t that so endearing? Giyuu practically just confessed to you!” Leaning in close, she presses her soft breasts against you. “And I’m perfectly okay if you want to say yes. Everyone deserves some happiness, hmm? Don’t be shy, now. Neither of us are foolish.”

This really is all too sudden. You never your night to head in this direction, nevertheless hear Giyuu tell you that he wants what you and Mitsuri have. Does that mean he also wanted to have a certain arrangement between the two of you? It’s not like you’re against it – Giyuu is certainly handsome, after all – but wouldn’t that make you seem desperate?

“If you’re on the fence about it, why don’t you give a go, just for tonight?” Mitsuri suggests. “We can forget all about it if you want. And if you don’t, well… Things should be fun, shouldn’t they?”

“I… I guess.”

“Wonderful. Giyuu, I give you my blessing to make an impression on our sweet little darling here,” Mitsuri purrs. “Don’t mess it up for yourself.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Giyuu grunts. He holds out a hand, then, a silent question displayed on his face. You glance between his face and his hand; your mind is rapidly going in loops, wondering just what he had in mind exactly. Gingerly, you place your hand in his, gasping when he suddenly yanks you up as he stands. “We won’t be gone for long,” he mutters at Mitsuri.

Mitsuri waves a dismissive hand, an uncharacteristic smirk playing on her pretty face. “Take your time. I know that you’ll need it.”

Giyuu pulls you away, leaving a giggling Mitsuri in your wake. The door to the balcony closes with a click that echoes down the silent hallway. Now that you’re completely alone with him, the realization of what this whole ordeal means comes crashing into you. Giyuu is being dead serious about this, and, well, you are too, apparently.

The two of you remain quiet as he pulls you down the hallway, his grip on your hand both gentle yet strong. He stops outside of a bathroom door, glancing both ways before dragging you in; after he’s checked for any potential bystanders in the bathroom, he locks the door. It’s then that you realize that this is the first time seeing him in bright lighting, but damn he looks just as fine. This is the first time that you’ve also stood directly next to him as well. He’s a lot broader than you anticipated, his shoulders tapering into slim hips.

“I meant it when I said it,” he tells you. The sheer sincerity of his voice strikes something deep within you, leaves you rooted to the spot. “This isn’t the way I wanted things to play out, but I uh, had someone put this little idea in the back of my head and it won’t go away.”

“You… really couldn’t stop thinking about me? I’m flattered, Tomioka-san. I didn’t know I left such an impression on you.”

“Heh. You’d be surprised.” Your breath catches in your throat as takes both of your hands in his, his thumbs drawing soothing circles into the skin. “Listen… I’m not… I’m not really good at this thing,” he says, voice low. “Relationships have never really been my forte.”

Ah, so that explains a lot.

“I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“I never pegged you for the sweet type,” you tell him.

“It’s called being considerate. I know plenty of people who wouldn’t hesitate to screw someone over.”

“You’re so serious, Tomioka-san. I can… Let me help you relax. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Giyuu hums, pulls you closer. “It’s not too late to turn back, but I really want this,” he murmurs. “Humor me?”

Before you know it, you’re backing up, the back of your thighs colliding with the counter; Giyuu lifts you with ease, setting your ass on the counter, and slipping between your legs. His mouth descends upon yours, touch almost featherlight as he kisses you. You urge him to press harder, your hands abandoning his hold and grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket instead. Giyuu grunts as you pull him even closer; sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, you pull it outward, relishing in the hiss that escapes him.

You shouldn’t be surprised with the way things go; time blurs, yet the moments seem so sharp. The pretty tulle of your skirt gathers around your hips, Giyuu’s strong hands gripping onto your thighs in such a way that it seems like he’s afraid to let you go. His mouth bleeds gold as you take kiss after kiss away from him, tongue sweeping into his mouth and licking away at the insides.

Things only grow more intimate from there; soon enough, you’re unbuttoning his shirt, hands pressing in and drifting across his skin. He’s surprisingly fit, but then again, it only adds to his godly visage. He’s openly moaning into your mouth at this point, hips bucking forward and seeking out that delicious friction. You choke on a moan as his clothed cock drags across your slit. Your panties are beyond ruined at this point, soaked all the way through and leaving a mess on the front of his slacks.

“Mmph – I bet you feel even better inside,” Giyuu breathes. “I want to… I want to see you wrapped around my cock.”

“Yes, Giyuu, yes,” you plead. Frantically, you undo the pants of his slacks, slip your hand inside his boxers.

“Ah, fuck,” he hisses. His hips absentmindedly buck into your touch, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. His voice is so low, so fucking gravelly – it’s wonderful, and fuck if you wouldn’t want to listen to it on loop.

Your insides tighten at the schlick, schlick, schlick noise that fills the bathroom, echoing all around you. Your pussy clenches around nothing, another drop of arousal seeping through your panties. “You said you wanted what I have with Mitsuri, right?” you purr. “Let me… Let me call you Daddy.”

It’s clear that the name causes something to snap inside of him; a growl rips itself from his throat, and his eyes flash with a darker, more animalistic gleam. Urging your hand off of him, he promptly pushes your panties to the side; your body tenses with excitement, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. Giyuu moans as he sheathes his cock inside of you, his hands gripping onto your legs and wrapping them around his slim hips.

“Oh, baby,” he purrs, his hands slamming down on the counter either side of you, effectively caging you in. “Feels so good… so tight…”

“Daddy, come on,” you whine, “we don’t have all night. You wanted this, remember? So fuck me, already. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Giyuu murmurs into your ear. Sliding his hips away, he snaps his cock right back in, your velvety walls eagerly sucking him in. “I plan on doing so much more. You won’t regret it, baby. Not on my watch.”

“Just don’t ruin the dress,” you mutter, placing your lips against the pounding vein in his neck. “It’s not mine and I really don’t feel removing your cum from it.”

Giyuu sucks a breath in through his teeth as you suck a mark into his flesh. “Then I guess I’ll just have to cum inside, huh…?”

“I fucking dare you.”

“That sounds like a challenge, baby. Don’t mind if I do…”

-

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, they’ve been gone for a while, now,” Mitsuri says quietly into her phone. “Giyuu really needed to let loose, huh?”

“That sneaky little bastard,” Kyojuro says. He sighs. “And I invited for a night out, too. Dammit. Why does everyone else get to have fun while I don’t?”

Mitsuri giggles. “You’re really that jealous of Giyuu, huh? It’s actually really funny. Maybe I should tell Tengen, just to see what his reaction is like!”

“What, so he can join in on your little ‘arrangement’ you’ve got going on? What about me, huh? I thought we were friends!”

“And we are! If (y/n) wants anything to do with you, that’s entirely up to her. Wait, hold on – the door just opened. Talk to you later, Kyojuro!”

“Wait, Mitsuri-“

Click.

[f00tball-imagines]

Clandestine Meetings - James Rodríguez

Player: James Rodríguez

Word count: 1.280

Prompt: “Hello, can the next swap sunday projects be another part of Illciit Affairs (for you) and a sequel to Mirrorball (for Laura)? ✨” (Request by Anon)

A/N: Another Swap Sunday, another angsty James piece! ✨💗 This story is a sequel to @alltoolewin’s Mad Woman-inspired imagine 🥰 If you’re new here, you should read my Illicit Affairs fic first, though! 💖

His name lights up on my phone screen. Which lights up my pitch black bedroom. James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet. Because a single red one would have been inappropriate. I know damn well that my name in his phone isn't even a name. Just my first initial. Not even a full stop after it. A lonesome letter. Because apparently, that's much less suspicious. 

James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet wants to know whether I'm still awake at this ungodly hour. After not talking to me for two whole weeks. "Yes," I type into the message box. I'm a fucking fool for texting back. I hit send. I hit my head against the wall. I'm in love with a married man who's kicking a ball around for a living. Who possibly can't and won't love anything or anyone that isn't his daughter. I'm a fucking mess. Please, James, get a pair of glasses, another one, a better one. What do you even want from me? I can't drink from a can unless someone's asking the waiter for a straw. I can't ask waiters for straws because I'm goddamn shy. I can't. I just can't. So why can't James find himself someone better?

My phone vibrates twice. Three simple letters. A "W", a "Y" and a "D". And a lonely question mark. I don't know who's teaching him English slang, abbreviations, the cool stuff. I don't even know why he's pretending to be cool. As I said, the man kicks a ball around for a living. That's not cool. That's fucking weird, now that I'm thinking about it. 

"Nothing." What would I be doing at three in the morning? I spend my nights staring at my ceiling unless we're having sex. He knows that. "You?" Did I ask out of common courtesy or do I really want to know what's keeping him awake tonight? 

He replies right away. "I'm in bed, I just can't fall asleep."

"Try drinking some tea. That helps."

He sends me an emoji, the facepalming one. I have to laugh, I really cannot help it, but I do find it hilarious when grown-ass men unironically use anything more than just a normal smiley or the occasional thumbs up. James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet ups the ante then. "You're a pain in the ass, princesa."

"You're a pain in-" I stop in my tracks. In my fucking vagina. I delete what I've written so far, just to type it out again. "You're a pain in general, Jamesito." I find myself giggling into the darkness. "My aches are developing aches because of you." I add the one emoji with the bandaged head, then I hit send.

"Want me to kiss it better?" It should've been "you're a pain in my vagina". Definitely. 

"James, you're being silly. It's half past three. Go to sleep."

"Told you I'm fucking restless. Talk to me." Pouty puppy-eyed emoji. Dude, please!

I sigh, putting the phone down for a second. Yeah, sure. All of a sudden, I'm interesting again. Because there isn't anything else to entertain him. Of course. I should've known. "What about?" My text immediately is marked as read, homeboy isn't even closing our chat in-between messages it seems. I should be flattered, but instead, I just feel like there's something weird about this. Like, why don't you talk to your wife? Why aren't you on video call with your daughter? It's barely nine in Medellín, I know that. Of course I know that, I've pinned Colombia's local time to my home screen. 

"Can I call you?"

You have a fucking phone in your hand. You certainly can. "No. Come over." I hate myself for putting myself through that. I hope he's got somewhere to be in the morning. I can't help but wish for him to turn me down.

"Now?"

Now... Now it's my turn to send him a facepalming emoji. No. Next Christmas, dummy.

"Okay," he replies after a split second. Okay, I'm coming over? Okay, cool, a stupid little emoji? Okay, fuck off? Okay what? Another second passes. Buzz buzz. "I'll be there in ten."

"Drive safe," my fingers type out. Crash that fucking car. After running me over, of course. End our misery. Please and thank you. I roll out of bed to put on some pants. He can deal with my washed out tee, he's seen worse. My naked body, for example. I stumble into the bathroom to pile on mascara, to take the fluffy, pink scrunchie out of my hair, to wash the thin film of cold sweat off my forehead. I don't know nervousness when it comes to him. There's just... anxiety. Every time we have one of our little fall-outs, my amount of working braincells gets reduced by two.

I sit down on the toilet lid to catch my breath. I'm gonna get dicked down and then discarded. It's okay, I'm used to it. I'm a one-trick-pony. But I'm just so good at that one trick that James keeps on crawling back to me. The pinkish polish on my nails is starting to chip, so I decide to adorn my fingers with a few rings to distract from that. They look cheap, they were cheap, but I consider them cute, so it's alright. 

I don't like texting after my autocorrect has dubbed him Hummus not once, not twice, but several times. He doesn't like calling as his stutter tends to get worse on the phone. So this is nice. The real thing is always nice. "I missed you," he rasps with his arms still wrapped around my torso. "I missed you, too," I whisper back. Lies. I spent a long, long time cursing his name, relatively sure that I would never be moaning it again, that we were over and done. "I still haven't said Happy New Year," he states the obvious. We haven't spoken since Christmas. "No," I confirm, shaking my head. It was the worst New Year's Eve of my life. I've seen the pictures Daniela had posted on her Instagram. At least James has had a great time, apparently. 

"Sorry. I thought I should leave you alone." Yes. Because that's the easy way out. "But... Happy New Year. I guess."

"Thanks. To you, too." It truly feels like New Year's. Waiting for the big something, just to end up disappointed because the big something turns out to be some underwhelming bullshit. "Better late than never." There's still snow on the streets, so it's alright, I guess.

"Yes."

"You're fucking annoying, James."

"Oh. Why?" And fucking stupid as well.

"Did you really come over to stand around in my hallway and wish me a Happy New Year? What are you? A caroler?"

"You told me to come."

"I'm not used to you doing as you're told." I force a laugh. I'm not used to niceties and such. I'm used to... the bad stuff.

He just shrugs. He's so unbelievably apathetic, I hate it! "You have the place to yourself tonight?"

"No. You're here with me." I know quite well that he was referring to my roommate. Who, in fact, is staying with her boyfriend for the weekend. I know quite well that he only asked because he is the furthest thing from an exhibitionist I could imagine. 

"Ah. Yes. True." So damn stupid! I wish I could get up and leave. But I'm already standing and there's no way to escape my own apartment. "Well?" I ask in an awful attempt to make conversation. Well, he's gonna fuck me. He's gonna break my heart once again and I'm gonna like that. We've been there before. And we're gonna be there time and time again.

[nerdypanda3126]

Congratulations!! 🎉🎈🍾 No 37, Lukanette please?

37. “I care too much about you to just leave you alone like this.” 

Oooooh good pick, Quick! I hope you like it! ^^

Anywhere with You 

Read on Ao3

Marinette looked up and wiped her cheeks hurriedly as she heard someone knock on the door to the dark, empty classroom she was hiding in. Luka was half-leaning in the doorway, and he waved. She lowered her face back into her pink and black tulle skirt and curled further into herself.

She heard him come closer, and he sat next to her on the floor with a heavy sigh and leaned his shoulder against hers. Reminding her, like he always did, that she didn’t have to say anything, but she also didn't have to be alone. She sniffed and wiped a stray tear out of the corner of her eye as she raised her head again, enough to rest her chin on her knees.

“Juleka told you.” It sounded more like a glum accusation than she meant it to.  

He let out a soft laugh and nodded.

“Did she tell you to come check on me, too?”

This time he shook his head. “I came on my own. I thought you might need a ride home. Or a friend.” Luka’s voice was carefully impassive as always. She lifted her eyes and he shrugged. “Or both.”

“You should go. Leave me alone, like everyone else.” She bit her lip even as the words left her mouth. She wasn't angry with Luka. There was a whole group of people on the dance floor much more deserving of her vitriol. Who had watched her run away and hadn't bothered to come looking for her. Although she wouldn't have wanted them to, anyways. Everyone else was having fun and she wouldn't have wanted to ruin it.

Luka shook his head again and tucked his finger under her chin to prevent her from hiding her face. “I care too much about you to just leave you alone like this.”

His eyes were soft and his voice rang with sincerity. The tide of silent tears she’d been barely holding back broke through again and she tipped over until her head was resting in the hollow of his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

She shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder, sniffling pitifully. “Can you take me home?”

“I can do that.” His thumb rubbed a comforting circle on her bare arm. He waited for her to straighten up and she wiped her tears away. Her fingers came away with black flecks. There goes her mascara. Luka stood and offered her a hand up, which she took and he helped pull her to her feet.

Her bare feet hit the cold tile and she sucked in a breath as she remembered her shoes—she'd dared to wear high heels because she'd hoped it would make her legs look good in her tea length skirt. But she'd flung them at the back wall of the classroom when she first ran in here because her feet hurt and it didn't really matter if her legs looked good or not. Lila hadn't cared either way, and she'd made sure to point out how hard Marinette was trying to get a certain blond's attention. Adrien's eyes couldn't possibly have gone any wider, and he'd let her run away, too.

“I didn’t even get to dance,” she muttered.

Luka raised his eyebrows, still holding her hand. “Do you want to?”

“I’m not going back out there.”

“Who says you have to?” With a soft smile,  he pulled her close to him, and his other hand fell naturally to her waist.

A laugh was surprised out of her, although since her throat was still thick from crying it sounded more like a choked sob. She nodded, accepting his offer, before she stepped closer to curl her hand around his shoulder and lean her head against his chest. When he started humming, the vibration thrummed against her ear. He swayed gently back and forth and leaned his head against hers.

"I like your dress," he said easily, as if his heart wasn't starting to race under her ear. "Is it one of yours?"

She shook her head, nuzzling him in the process. "I ran out of time. Bit off more than I could chew, as usual."

"I hope you still finish it. I'm sure it's great."

She shrugged. "Maybe. Seems silly to finish it now."

"There'll be other dances." He shifted against her and she pulled away to look up at him. His cheeks were pink, even though he was keeping his expression as neutral as possible.

"Yeah, and I bet I won't be asked to those either."

"You'll be asked." The corners of his lips were starting to pull up into a smile. "Trust me."

"No one asked me to this one," she said suspiciously.

There was a laugh hiding in his voice as he answered, "Maybe 'no one' didn't know you hadn't been asked."

She settled her head back on his shoulder to hide her blush and her pleased smile. "Maybe 'no one' should have just asked," she mumbled.

 His hand tightened around hers. "Maybe. But I bet 'no one' won't make that mistake again."

They were quiet, then, and Luka resumed his humming. He was warm against her—or rather she hadn't realized how cold she was until he was holding her.

"You're trembling," he noted, pulling her the slightest bit closer.

"I guess a strapless dress in winter wasn't the smartest choice," she murmured back, glad she had the excuse of the cold room.

He pulled away and stripped off his hoodie easily before he held it out for her. When she hesitated, he shook it to insist. As she slipped her arms into it, she realized he had been warm—he'd been sweating, even.

She held her arms out for him to see and he was definitely smiling as the sleeves flopped over her fingertips. He cleared his throat and dropped his eyes before he glanced up at her through his hair.

"Do you still want to go home?"

She shook her head. "Not right now."

He nodded and offered her his hand again before he pulled her back to him, humming the same soft tune. She felt like she'd heard it before. After a few minutes of listening to it, she still couldn't place it.

"What song is that? It's pretty."

"It's something that’s been stuck in my head lately."

"Is it one of yours?"

He chuckled—a low, quiet sound against her ear. She liked hearing him like this. His voice was always musical and soft, but coming from his chest it was deeper—richer—and she could feel his inflections. Feel the quick intake of breath he tried to hide as she turned her cheek to his collarbone to look up at him. Her eyelashes had brushed against his skin. She did it again on purpose, but he was saying something this time and she didn't catch his reaction.

"I guess you could say that." He was smiling enigmatically and another short laugh escaped him. "Although it's someone else's song. I just hear it all the time."

"Whose song?" Her voice slipped out as a whisper and he definitely shuddered that time.

"Guess."

She pulled away from him again and his eyes locked on hers. It brought a blush to her cheeks— the earnest way he was looking at her like she was all he could see. She dropped her eyes and he dropped his hands and took a respectful step back.

“Luka…”

When she looked back up, he was back to his neutral expression. A sad half-smile still played around his lips. Like he knew what she was about to say, he was braced for her rejection, but he was willing to wait for her to say it. Of course he was willing to wait.

She sighed and clutched his jacket tighter around herself. “I think I’m ready to go, now.”

He nodded and started to turn away, but she caught his wrist and she didn’t miss the small flicker of hope in his eyes as he turned back.

“But I don’t really want to go home.” She bit her lip, hoping he would catch what she was saying.

He seemed to know there was more to her thought and he waited. Always waiting for her. Always there for her. Anyone who was already at the dance could’ve come and found her at any time. And yet it was Luka. Luka who had come all the way here on his bike just to offer her a ride home and a listening ear. Luka who had known where to find her—or maybe had searched everywhere, unwilling to give up until he found her. Unwilling to give up on her.

His brow was starting to furrow as the silence between them stretched thin. Ready to break, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to be the one to break it.

“Anywhere you had in mind?” he asked. She didn’t miss the careful wording. He was giving her the choice. She took a deep breath.

“Anywhere with you?” The words left her in a rush and she let go of his wrist to hide her eyes behind her hands. He didn’t answer right away, and her spiral of self-doubt answered for him. “I’m sorry, that was stupid. I didn’t mean anything, I just thought that maybe, I mean, I don’t want to be alone right now, and if you were willing—but it’s okay if you aren’t, I just... I mean... I’m sorry—”

She heard him take a step closer, and he pulled her hands away from her face and held them loosely.

“Marinette.” Her name fell from his lips like a prayer. She dared to meet his eyes again. “I came here because I didn’t want you to be alone. As long as you want me to stay, I’m not going anywhere without you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief and he smiled.

“Can we go to the Liberty?” she asked shyly. “I… I think I’d like to hear you play that song.”

His thumb rubbed a comforting circle on the back of her hand and his gentle smile warmed her better than his jacket had.

“I can do that.”

[themissinghippogriff]

| one lucky guy | imagine

young remus x reader

Description: reader has a crush on remus but thinks he and sirius are dating

W.C: 2k+

Requested: no warnings

0000

You picked at your food and sighed, today was Remus's birthday. You had gotten him a present but you weren't sure how to go about giving it to him. For over a year you had the biggest crush on him but decided not to say anything because he was dating Sirius, but you couldn't exactly be upset about that, they were a really cute couple.

Just as this thought crossed your mind Sirius stood atop the Gryffindor table, " May I have your attention!" he announced, gaining the attention of the student body. You glanced down near his feet where you saw Remus bury his red face in his hands, " Today is the smart, caring, and beautiful Remus Lupin's birthday!" he gushed with a shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

Down the table, Marlene McKinnon whooped and began clapping and many of her housemates and friends followed, laughing at Sirius's stupid antics. You found yourself clapping with them and laughing when McGonagall threatened to give Sirius detention if he didn't get down," Oh you know you don't care about me stating the obvious, Minnie!"

You watched McGonagall's lip twitch, " Mr. Black, get off the table,"

-

Potions, your last class of the day. You loved this class for the sole reason you were partnered with Remus, but lately being his partner was bittersweet. You had to get rid of this crush, but how?

You sat down beside the werewolf and smiled, " I haven't  had a chance to tell you today, but Happy Birthday,"

He returned the smile with rosy cheeks, " Thank you, are you coming to the party Sirius advertised during breakfast?" he asked, a twinge of hopefulness in his voice that went unnoticed by you.

" Wouldn't miss it for the world," you teased, allowing yourself to get lost in his light green eyes for a moment. He held your stare until you finally looked away," Has anyone given you any presents yet?" you asked taking out your book.

" O-Oh," he stuttered, following your lead, " Yeah, Sirius, James, and Peter gave me somethings this morning, but apparently Sirius has a big surprise for tonight, I'm almost too scared to find out what it is, to be honest," he chuckled.

You sent him an almost pained smile, " Sirius is one lucky guy," you replied, forcing a laugh.

Remus's eyebrows furrowed and before he could ask you what you meant Slughorn walked into the room.

-

" Lily, this is perfect I don't know why you're so worried," huffed Sirius as he hung balloons and streamers around the common room.

The redhead rolled her eyes, " I'm just not sure we should meddle, what if Remus doesn't like (Y/N)?"

Sirius snorted, " Lily, the man is practically in love with her, has been since fifth year, and it's so bloody obvious she likes him too. Trust me, we're doing those two a favor," he said before blowing up a balloon, only for it to shoot out of his hands and hit Peter in the face.

" Sorry about that mate!" laughed Sirius.

-

You walked to your dorm and decided you would dress up a little, you had to get over this crush. He seemed happy and you never want to interfere with his relationship with Sirius, so you might as well mingle tonight.

You grabbed a shimmery shadow and applied the mauve color to your lid, following it up with black mascara and eyeliner. You grabbed Lily's berry-colored lipgloss and put it on.

You then slid on your off-shoulder blouse and crotched bell bottoms. You looked at yourself in the mirror and decided you were happy with your appearance. Walking to your trunk you got down on your knees and rummaged through it looking for Remus's present, tonight was the night you'd get over him.

You'd have fun tonight. You told yourself you would dance and laugh with your friends, and even allow strangers with not so innocent intentions to approach you.

Even if that's not what you really wanted.

-

Remus lied on his bed and sighed, he needed to get over this crush, she'd never go for someone like him- for something like him.

He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair, making it fluffier than it already was. He stood, changing out of his school uniform into something more comfortable. He grabbed a beige sweater and pulled it over himself, he never wore short sleeves, no matter how hot it was.

Sirius came into the room, " James and Pete are getting the butterbeer and firewhiskey and should be back in a few minutes, so the party will be in full swing right about then," he grinned, but his friend's face made him pause, " You alright, Moony?" he asked.

Remus sighed through his nose and nodded, " Yeah, just feeling a little anti-social is all,"

The ebony-haired man frowned, " C'mon Remus," he began, putting a hand on the werewolf's shoulder, " It'll be fun, it's going to be us, our friends, drinking and talking,"

" And I need you to be there for my big surprise, remember?" he whined.

Green eyes rolled but a smile graced his scarred face all the same, " Fine, might as well get a drink or two,"

Sirius barked a laugh, " That's the spirit,"

-

You made your way down the steps to be greeted with the sound of music and laughter. Your (Y/E/C) eyes swept around the room before they landed on Lily, " Hey," you greeted.

The girl smiled before handing you a butterbeer, " It's about time you came down, I thought I was going to have to come up there and drag you down here," she teased, leading you over to where Dorcas and Marlene sat.

" (Y/N), " acknowledged Marlene, " You look hot,"

You felt your face heat up, " You don't look so bad yourself Marley," you laughed.

Dorcas took a swig of firewhiskey, pushing her blonde hair back, " Hey Marley let's go dance," she said before taking the other blonde's hand.

" Ah, Lily-flower," crooned a familiar voice.

You and Lily turned around to see James with his arms wide open. The redhead shook her head but hugged her boyfriend, " Are you ready to witness my amazing dance skills, Evans?" he flirted before kissing her nose.

You shook your head at your two friends and leaned against the stone wall, finding yourself looking for Remus. He was on the other side of the room, throwing his head back to some joke Sirius made.

You looked away quickly, not wanting to feel more lonely then you already did.

" Excuse me," you turned to see a Ravenclaw in your year, you recognized him as one of the chasers on the Quidditch team. His name was Benjy Fenwick, he was handsome with his copper-colored hair and cobalt blue eyes.

" Are you here with someone?" he questioned with a small smirk. You glanced over to Remus who was still talking to Sirius.

" No, I'm not,"

-

Sirius felt his heart drop in his stomach as he saw you talking to Benjy Fenwick, shit shit shit, this wasn't supposed to be happening. He looked over to Lily to see her dancing with James, but before he could get her attention Remus asked, " What are you-,"

Sirius could have died right there at the look on Remus's face, total and utter disappointment. He gritted his teeth as he watched Fenwick lead you over to where the others were dancing, spinning you as you laughed.

" I... I think I'm going to head upstairs,"

The pureblood blanched, " Moony mate I-,"

" Goodnight, Sirius," was all he said before walking up the stairs that led to the boy's dorm. Had he been wrong about how you felt? No, he couldn't have been, he needed to talk to Lily and tell her what was happening.

-

You were talking to Benjy when all of a sudden you felt someone grab your arm, " Hey (Y/N), don't you need to go give Remus his present?" Lily asked, not bothering to even glance at Benjy.

You looked to the Ravenclaw and then back to your friend, " Um, I'm kinda-,"

Lily cut you off, " Remus isn't feeling all that well and you should give it to him before he goes to bed," she pressed.

You sent Benjy and apologetic smile before nodding at Lily, " I suppose, I'll be back," you said over your shoulder before making your way up the steps.

- You knocked on the oak door before entering, you saw Remus sitting on his bed, " (Y/N), what are you doing here?" he asked.

You smiled, " I came to give you your present," you replied holding up the bag.

He placed his hands in his lap and sent you a strained smile, " You didn't have to get me anything," he said softly.

You sat down beside him, " Well I wanted to," you said, handing him the red bag.

He placed it on his lap before removing the tissue paper, he took out the book and sweater you had gotten him and smiled, " Thank you," he murmured, turning to you.

You felt your face begin to heat up, " You're welcome,"

He paused, running a finger over the spine of the book, " (Y/N)?" he asked.

" Hm?"

" What did you mean when you said Sirius was one lucky guy?" he asked, it had been bugging him all afternoon but had forgotten to ask you earlier.

You frowned, " Oh you know... because you two are dating," you said sheepishly.

Remus's eyes bugged out of his head, " Wh-What!?" he yelped.

You raised an eyebrow, " What?"

" You- You think Sirius and I are- what?!"

Your eyebrows shot to your hairline, " You're not?"

" No!" he squeaked, " I'm straight!"

You felt like the biggest idiot in the fucking world, so there you were blinking like a dumbass in front of the boy you had like for a year, " Ah," was all you had to offer as you mentally kicked your own ass.

Remus's face was beet red, " I...-,"

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you, " I'm so sorry!"

Suddenly Remus's face broke into a grin as he joined you in your fit of laughter, " I'm going to bloody kill him," he groaned, running a hand over his now pink face, " This actually isn't the first time this happened,"

You giggled, " Well at least my competition has one less person-,"

You froze, as did Remus. You were back to mentally kicking your ass, this was a great night huh?

" What... what do you mean?" he asked.

You let out a nervous chuckle, " Oh um, nothing," you said standing up," I better leave you to-,"

He grabbed your hand, his mouth opening before closing as he tried to find the right words, " Do you have feelings for me?" he asked, that hopeful tone not going unnoticed by you this time.

You looked down at your feet before nodding, " I... do," you whispered, pulling your hand back, " Sorry,"

This time he stood, " For what," he smiled, " I actually feel the same way, so it kinda works out," he said thoughtfully, an amused look on his pretty face.  

Your mouth opened, " Really? You like me too? You're in like with me?" you asked in disbelief, hoping this wasn't some drunken dream.

He laughed slightly and nodded, " Yes, love, I'm in like with you,"

You felt your face break into a grin before meeting his lips with your own. The kiss was slow, with is hand on the small of your back and your fingers tangling in his feathery curls.

Outside the door, Sirius peeked through a crack and smiled before busting the door open with Lily in tow, " SURPRISE!"

[itsthecupbros]

Just a scene

I wrote this with @shattered-ecilpse-varian last night for out hogwarts au and I thought Id format it here-

~~

Mugman looked into the mirror of the 4th floor boys bathroom and saw and felt his face flush blue. It was near midnight, no no one should walk in on him, but he was still anxious. Bracing his hands on either side of the sink and taking a deep breath, he looked himself over. Maraca, a hint of dark blue eyeshadow, light pink lip gloss. He knew that if his father, heck, anyone in his old neighborhood saw him like this, they would never wash the blood out of the road. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cold surface of the mirror. After reassuring himself, he released the sink and took a step back, looking at himself in the clear glass surface. The long blue dress gently brushed the tops of his bare feet as he turned slightly on the spot. It had two straps, leading his white shoulders and upper back exposed. He thought he looked amazing, but then all of the the memories and facts came crashing down onto him. What people would think, what they would say. Guys can't wear dresses, guys can't appear like this. His face flushed dark again and he looked at the cold floor, trying to push away the shame already rising in his face.

Indigo was wandering around stress forcing him to walk was exhausted he couldn't sleep so he sweared he heard loud angry footsteps coming his way he quickly entered the boys bathroom panic-stricken he didn't want to get in trouble all over again. He saw his crush dress up in a beautiful dress he just froze staring not knowing what exactly to say

It was a few moments before Mugman noticed him. He turned and let out a Yelp, taking a step back as his face flushed darker in embarrassment. "I-Indigo! Wh-what are you doing here?" He looked downward, his face hot. He braced himself for indigo to laugh at him, or cry out in disgust, or ridicule him in some other manner.

"Tt. Um.. you... i..." Indigo flushed red looking down dying inside "I'm sorry I...I didn't m-m-mean to i-intrude I'm sorry"

"N-No! Please! I-I was just startled..." The toon let out a nervous laugh, avoiding his eyes and rubbing at the elbow joint of his prosthetic, suddenly self conscious that it was so exposed.

"Um... what what are you why are you up this late?: Indigo mumbled softly squeezing his already scratched off and red arm trying to stay awake trying to not let anything bad happen

"I-I just wanted to... to t-try some things on without the boys from my dorm looking on..."

"Oo...um understandable..." Indigo smiled a little scratching a little. "Um....you...you looked look nice..."

Mugman flushed darker. "R-really? I..I wasn't sure... you.. you don't think I look like... l-like a freak? ..o-or something...?" He wrapped his arms around himself, still avoiding his eyes.

Indigo shook his head  "N-no! I no? You don't!"

Mugman seemed stunned for a few seconds before he gave a chiming laugh and a glowing smile, his eyes shining. "..thank you..."

Indigo just gave an embarrassed thumbs up. He looked away and tried to think of more conversation "Um...so...... you can't sleep I'm guessing?"

"...no... too many nightmares..." mugman replied, looked away and biting his lip.

"Mmhm...same.... want to wander around?..um I've been doing that for the past... I don't know how many hours.. we can try to find new secret passageways and such! I do that when I can't sleep or I just watch over the dorm.. but it seems like Atlas got that one covered tonight" Inido smiled looking down reaching out his hand.

Mugman reached out, gripping it gently and smiling. "I think I'd like that..."

Indigo smiled nervously holding his hand and it started walking. "Okay! Let's do this"

Mugman giggled as he started speeding up. "Come on, I know this great hidden room up ahead!"

Indigo smiled letting the toon go first  "Okay! Show show!"  He said fidgeting, extremely excited and well happy. He was barely flustered anymore just happy to hang out with someone

Mugman rushed around a corner and ducked through a tapestry, starting to talk as he sped by. "My older brother is quite the troublemaker. On our first day, he showed me and lost the best spots in the castle. You would t believe the trouble he's gotten himself into in the past..."

Indigo quietly followed knowing a bit about getting in trouble "Mmhm! that's always nice"

After running down a passageway for a while, mugs turned a corner and came to a large open room with a small fountain off to the side, ornate pillars around the walls, and a tree growing in the center. Mugman smiled. "This has to be my favorite of the places he showed me... I'm not sure what it's used for, but I think it's beautiful..."

Indigo stared gobsmacked he started looking around and just smiled "Whoa..."

Mugman gently squeezed his hand. "...I know right...?" His voice had taken a softer tone.

Indigo gently squeezed back   "Yeah.."

Mugman looked at him and felt his heart flutter, warmth rushing to his face. He looked away again, pushing the feeling down. He didn't know what it was, but he didn't want to tempt fate.

"So...um.." Indigo squeezed his hand a little and started walking to the tree "Let's hang out?"

Mugman walked beside him, squeezing back. "We'll have to be back before morning, but I'd love that..."

"Okay... that sucks" Indigo mumbled softly and sat  down exhaustion hitting him hard

"...tired...?" Mugman asked with a small smile.

"Always.." Indigo mumbled softly rubbing his eyes

Mugman hesitated "...I get that.. some... things... have been happening lately... I... I actually really need to talk about it... s-so.. can I vent to you...?" 

"Mm..do tell... I'm here.." Indigo smiled, as his eyes closed he was quietly listening

Mugman paused for a few moments, bracing himself "okay.. s-so... I...I suppose I should start at the beginning... C-Cuphead and I got kicked out of the house when I was 3... our mom was a witch, but she didn't tell our dad until after I was born. She... she died shortly after... I don't know how... our dad was already n-not fond of us because we were wizards, but when he found out my brother was gay... it was the final straw..." he paused, taking a deep breath to stop the tears forming in his eyes. "...w-we lived on the streets for a while until cups could get enough money to rent an apartment. One day, we found another toon. He literally bumped into us on the streets and begged us to help him, he said he was being hunted and he had been under the control of dark wizards for over a year... we weren't sure, but took him in... he didn't remember his name... so he gave himself the name lost... surprisingly, we were accepted into this school and were able to escape for a while... unfortunately, apparently the people who had been controlling lost didnt want to give him up... th-they... came for him... I-Ive never see Lost so scared... he was screaming and begging... we fought them off... but... we didn't get out in one piece..." he gestured to his prosthetic, tears were starting to slip down his face. "...what scares me most is that they... they hired someone... they call themselves void and they're one of the most wanted magic users in country... they crushed cuphead's hand and... they never stop until they get the job done... we have an agreement with the headmaster... so we can stay at the castle over break... b-but I'm still terrified every night that they'll find us... Im terrified they'll take lost and kill the two of us for standing in their way... and.. th-theres no way to know if today will be the last day... I.. Im just so scared..."

Indigo just stared at him worried and bewildered. He just didn't know what to say he just looked down hugging himself

Mugman realized he'd been rambling, his face flushing. "O-oh jeez... I'm so sorry... I ruined it, didnt I...? I-I shouldn't dump that on you... jeez... stupid, stupid..." he bit his lip. He completely ruined it. They were having such a nice night... Indigo didnt need to hear about all the terrifying things going on without him and his brothers...

He quietly pulled him into a hug. He quietly mumbles "I'm so sorry..."

He closed his eyes and hugged him back, repressing a sob as all the emotions he had been repressing came crashing down on him at once. The horror of watching his own brother screaming and begging for mercy. The terror of living every day having to wonder if this would be the last time he would see the sun. He was trembling, clinging to indigo as his resolve finally broke and he sobbed into his shoulder, his body shaking I violently as wave after wave of emotion crashed into him.

Indigo gently held him rubbing his back. He tried to comfort him, he was pretty sure it wasn't good enough but he had to try

He choked out apologies as he struggled to regain control, praying indigo wouldn't hate him and already hating himself for dumping his own emotions onto the person he considered his best friend.

 Indigo just started softly speaking in German in a tune of a lullaby. He scooped him up the best he could and just held him continuing to speak

After the toon managed to stop himself from sobbing, he continued to cling to him, his arms wrapped around him and his face buried in his chest.

 The twin buried himself into him as well mostly in his shoulder. He didn't cling on to him as tightly but he still held on to him still mumbling that German tune

After a few minutes, mugman took in a shuddering breath and gently pulled away, looking downwards. His mascara was smudged and there were black tear tracks running down his pale face. He kept his eyes downcast. "I-I'm sorry... you mustn't think much of me now... right...? ...s-sorry... I just... g-god I'm so weak...

Indigo shook his head holding both of his hands not caring about the prosthetic. He just tiredly mumbled "....you're strong...you're strong.."

Mugman hesitated "...I-I just broke down in your arms and you still tell me I'm strong.. I... I really don't deserve you as a friend..." his voice was weak and broken as he bit his lip. "...you don't deserve me dumping this on you... I-I'm sorry..."

He hugged him tightly "N-no I... don't go please" Indigo's voice out of nowhere became weak and filled with terror

He hesitated before squeezing his hand, swallowing the lump in his throat before nodding, his voice only a whisper. "O-okay... I won't go..."

"Sorry.." He eventually mumbled his eyes closed trying not to slip into sleep

"...please don't be... I'm the one who just dumped a ton off emotional trauma onto you..."

Indigo mumbled incoherently clinging onto him exhaustion finally pulling him down to slumber

Mugman ran a hand through his hair, soon realizing that he had fallen asleep. He started to panic for a few seconds before managing to calm himself down, leaning back and letting his eyes flutter shut, focusing on indigo's even breaths. Maybe just a little rest... he could... wake up before morning.... before he could stop himself, he drifted into unconscious.

[wordynerdygurl]

Body & Soul

Author's Note: Hello everyone! This is my first Halloween on Tumblr and I wanted to try my hand at one of the prompt challenges. This story is centered around the Hatterween quote, "I have no plans to love you. No matter what. You can't make me love you." #hatterweenfics

Also, as of today I have 100 followers, which is so amazingly awesome that I can't really believe it's true!! I feel so grateful that you read my little stories and doubly so that you like 'em!!!

Feel free to reblog the stories, drop comments and ask me anything!! You're my people and I love you!!

Now, the details...

Pairing: Dark, Demonic Loki x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, rough language, Dark themes, D/s... in short, not our sweet boy but sexy just the same.

Summary: The best things happen when you dance, especially if your partner is a dark stranger, hungry for you, body and soul!

Damn, tequila tastes good. It's not the first time you've thought this, biting into a lemon, and sucking the tart citrus chaser down. After a long week at work, the shot tasted like forgetfulness, something you craved.

Normally you were a bar girl. A comfy stool or deep booth where you could nurse a beer and sing along to the jukebox, well, that was about perfect. Now though, you were moving on the dancefloor, colored lights making you throw your hips one way and your arms another. It felt great to get all of your angst and frustration out. Smiling to yourself, you let it all go as the tequila kicked in, just one more person in this sea of souls, escaping into the rhythmic music.

You sense eyes on you, unfamiliar and strange, but can't find who they belong too. That's when you realize that your girls aren't next to you. No, you're on your own in the center of the crowd.

The music shifts then. An unfamiliar song pumps over the crowd, rolling across the room like bruised storm clouds, pushing the club even closer to total darkness. It's disorienting and you turn to find one of your friends before a bubble of panic surfaces.

"May I?" The voice is dark like tinted glass and it's so close you feel the whisper on your cheek. Taking a half step back you size up the man who has invaded your space.

He is smouldering. Tall, taller than you by a foot at least and solid but trim. You look him over slowly, surprised by his interest, questioning his intentions.

A perfectly fitting suit of crimson hugs his broad shoulders, a matching vest showcases his narrow waist. His shirt, jet black. There is no tie. Sweeping your gaze over his face you're caught in the pure fire blue of his eyes. You notice raven hair curling across his collar in long strands and there's an itch in your fingers to pull it.

He's offered you his hand and shyly you accept. It's an old fashioned move but you're flattered by it all the same. There's something very formal, antique even, about the stranger and his pristine manners. He seems otherworldly and totally out of place in the nightclub.

You feel his arm wrap around your waist firmly, heat arcing through you at the contact. The touch of his palm against yours straightens your back as you are lead through the dance. "You move well, little one." His rough praise ruffles your hair. Flushing pink at the compliment you embarrassingly murmur, "Thanks."

He stares at you in a ravenous, coveting way, as if he'd like nothing better than to eat you up. You know from his carnal smirk that he would enjoy devouring you, body and soul. Swallowing thickly under his intense scrutiny you realize that you would allow him to, if he wanted, and somehow he knows that too.

You glide across the floor easily, his steps sure and graceful, making it seem like you are a more capable dancer. Trusting him with control of your body, you follow where he leads, mindlessly acquiescing to his urges. Once you stumble but his form never falters, keeping a sacred space between your bodies, his feet tireless as they move in time to the music.

You find the polite distance from him frustrating. If this were any other club jumper, he'd have his hands on your body, grinding his hips into you, timing it to the bass drop. But your red suited suitor is not like that. He makes the most of what physical contact you do share and you have to admit that it's an intimate experience. His hand on your back, your fingers laced together, that primal look in his eyes as they pierce into yours.

To you, it feels like you are the only two bodies in motion, the crowd falling into shadow around you. Maybe it's a trick of the lights, maybe it's the tequila. Either way, you enjoy the movements and the moments you two share, even if no words are spoken.

Too soon, in your opinion, the song finishes. Your partner, releasing his grip on you, presses a gentle kiss to your cheek before parting. "Until we meet again, little one."

You find voice enough to murmur, "Wait... who are you?"

But it's too late. Your breath catches on a soft sob as you watch his long legs carry him into the throbbing crowd. Willing him to look back at you, your searching eyes follow that blazing suit as long as you can. He never turns his head.

For the rest of the night you keep one eye out for your mysterious man. You can feel residual heat from his hand on your back, the skin there marked by his touch but that's not the only place he's set on fire. It's as if your crimson king has found the half gone flame of your arousal and poured lighter fluid on it.

Suddenly your nipples are painfully hard, straining against the cloth prison of your boosting bra. The panties you picked out special because of the tiny witches on them were flooded with your honey. And you could feel the red heat of your unending blush radiating off of your cheeks.

You slam another tequila shot, barely feeling the burn as it slides down your throat, since every other part of you is on fire. Pushing off of the bar, away from your people without a word, you will yourself to walk straight to the ladies room. There's something you have to do and it has to be done now.

Luckily the bathroom is empty. The stalls here are wide with walls that touch the floor and you are so grateful because you need the privacy. You've never done anything like this before but you're too exhilarated to stop now.

Quickly locking the door, you take a deep breath before lifting your skirt. You don't bother taking off your undies. Instead you shift them to the side and moan when your finger connects with your clustered nerves. Resting your heeled boot against the toilet you gather some of your slick and tease it over your sensitive nub.

When you close your eyes you see your man in red. He's on his knees before you with those long fingers on your milky thighs. Imaging his wicked tongue working on your womanhood, you swear you can almost feel him in there with you.

Tipping your head back, you let out a moan, leaning into the wooden wall of your stall. You're close to release imagining the dashing dancer pressing into you with hard hips and soft lips. Panting now, a name you've never heard before, flashes through your mind. The letters pulse behind your closed eyes, growing in intensity at the same rate as your pleasure. Your alcohol addled brain blinks to an image. The face of your scarlet stranger, his lean look and hungry eyes, the scorching sensation of his touch.

"Loki" you say it once, almost a question, testing how it sounds, breathless, as your body tries to reach its peak. "Loki!" Louder, clearer, stronger as your fingers rub roughly over your sensitive silk. "LOKI!", raggedly you scream as your body comes apart quickly in delicious contractions and warm liquid.

Taking a moment to calm your frayed nerves, you collapse onto the toilet seat. With shaking legs and racing heart you curse, "Holy shit." Even in your bed at night your body has never been so quick to reach its pinnacle.

You stand and straighten yourself up, feeling a bit guilty about your self love session. The mirror hides nothing and reflected in the fluorescent light you see your smudged eyeliner and racooned mascara. Cool water and a paper towel help but anyone can see that you've unravelled.

Your lips are swollen, your hair tangled, your skin alternatively flushed and blushing. Desire coils in your belly, dark and sinful. It's shocking to think that even though you just experienced a spell of sensual relief you can already feel the knot of need tightening in you again.

You had to get out of here. Now. Making a mental checklist you start: get to your friends and then get home. Those are your pressing tasks.

Time was of the essence as your skin was in flames. Each breath you took seemed to burn heat through your body, settling ashen embers in your liquid core. Every touch from an unsuspecting crowd surfer brought you closer to cumming. The brush of the waitress against your side was enough to force your thighs together, clenching your teeth.

Your dress was too clingy. The boots you wore, too heavy. All of your layers chaffed against you. Naked. That's what you needed to be and to ensure that you didn't get arrested, you needed to get someplace private, now.

"Guys!" Trying to sound casual when you clearly weren't, your friends looked you over in a loving if judgemental way. "Listen, I need to split. Anyone else coming?"

Without pausing for an answer, you grab your bag and start walking. "Um... ok. Ok. I'll get a car then. See you later!" You bit your bottom lip as you open your phone's drive share app. Head down in concentration, you make your way through the maze of dancers and drinkers, when you feel it again. Not it, rather, him.

You stop dead in your tracks.

He's just outside the door and you know he's waiting for you. Squaring your shoulders, trying to hide your body's betrayal at seeing him so soon, you planned on ignoring him. But your feet moved on thier own, taking you right up to him, as if they no longer were listening to your directions. At your approach he turned, a smile curled over his full mouth, "Little one, need a lift?"

You nod, yes. Loki offers you his strong hand once more, ushering you into his waiting car. He keeps you close to his side with those long arms of his wrapped around you. Cuddling you towards his heavy heat, you sigh and settle in for the drive.

No words are said. His hand idly strokes over your arm. You rest your cheek to his chest. Anyone could have mistaken you for long time lovers rather than the perfect strangers you were.

When the car stops Loki steps out first, straightening his suit coat, then reaching out, helps you gain the sidewalk. He leads you to his building, tall and dark like the man himself, with wrought iron rails around the windows and aging but beautiful stonework. You're reminded of the Beast's castle, from that fairy tale, a gothic haunted place where love, against the odds, manages to grow.

"Are you coming little one?" Loki's voice is feather light but it commands you just the same. Dim lamps flicker on once you cross the threshold, but you pay no attention to what they illuminate. You're being led onward, on to the place you have agreed to go ever since you took Loki's hand on the dance floor.

Heavy doors open to reveal a large, well made bed in the center of the room, the iron headboard reaching for the ceiling. Blood red comforters and black quilts are piled high, like a nest, for the long man in the crimson suit. A fire, raging orange, is the only light in this place. The shadows it cast leaping around the room like the club goers you left behind.

"Dance with me, little one." A song, the same from earlier, begins to play from somewhere in the house. This time, without the eyes of others on you, Loki's grip on you is tighter, his body closer than before. As you spin in time to the music his hands roam freely over your back, down to your bottom, gripping you hard.

You feel as if your person is no longer yours, but rather an extension of him. How did you ever live without his scalding touch? Were you alive before feeling the heat of Loki's gaze on you? Overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention, you lower your lashes, afraid that he will see your shameless, wanting need.

Nosing against you, Loki turns your head to face him, "Little one, you should know, I have no plans to love you. No matter what. You can't make me love you."

Stuck to the roof of your mouth, your tongue is of no actual help. Your mind is struggling to make sense of his words, the weight of them, the tone. It's important, you think, but his blown pupils and full lips distract your thoughts.

"But I will make you mine." And then Loki's blazing lips are on yours, hungry and unrelenting, as they try to drink in all of you. Fiery fingers tangle in your hair, pulling it back harshly, as his tongue licks over your jugular vein. Nipping your ear painfully, Loki tells you, "Give yourself to me, little one. Do it freely and I will let you howl my name, just as you did when you played with your pretty pussy tonight!"

Snapping your head up at the mention of your bathroom debasement, Loki snickers, "You couldn't keep your hands off of your needy body, that's how desperate you were to be mine. Now you will have to prove it to me."

Your knees buckle against the bed. Loki's steered you right where he wants you, and with no effort on his part, he pushes you back on the blanketed bed. Flames burning behind him, Loki towers over you, half shadowed in the flickering light. You think you see red horns on his head, but no, that's just a trick of the fire light, right?

For a second your mind shifts, I should be afraid, you think. But then Loki begins slipping off your boots and kissing a scalding path over each of your calves. You bow up from the mattress as Loki bites on the tendon inside your knee. It's a sensitive and unexpectedly erotic place on your body so you moan softly at the searing contact.

Reaching for him, you want to pull Loki to you. You want to give him some of the pleasure he's giving to you. Every attempt is swatted away until your man in red scolds, "If you can't control yourself, I will tie you down and finish things my way. Be good, little one. Please."

You decide to lay on your hands, tucking them under you, lest you be tempted to touch Loki again. This earns you a devilish grin before he returns to his work. Reaching under your skirt, Loki locks his eyes on yours and rubs you over your panties.

"Oh, little one. You're body is ready to be claimed. Look at how eager you are to belong to me!" Loki can't hide his own elation at your body's response. He traces over your split lips with one of his stiff fingers, pressing firmly against your straining bud, causing you to groan harshly.

Again he pushes down on your pearl, circling it slowly over the thin cotton of your underwear. The fabric, rough and dragging, scrapes against your bundled nerves sending ripples of electricity shooting through your core. Loki hooks his finger under the soaked scrap tearing it from under you with a growl.

In a rush, the breathe leaves your lungs, cool air coursing over your swollen sex only adding to your arousal. Loki rises up again, crooning, "Look at me, little one. I want you to see."

Your eyes widen in shock as he snaps his fingers and your clothes are just gone. No zippers pulled down, no buttons undone, just disappeared. Instead of crying out, you sigh happily. Your overheated body is finally free of your constraining clothes.

Wriggling into the warmth of the bedclothes, Loki warns, "Lie very still, little one. Don't move." And you couldn't even if you wanted to. His words are steel chains that bind you to his bidding, keeping you soothed and silent, while he slowly sheds his suit.

If you thought Loki was striking in his impeccable clothes, you are gobsmacked by his nude figure. Finely muscled, more than masculine and frightening hard, his body glowed in the radiance of fire light. You sucked in a breath and exhaled with a whimper.

Stroking himself lazily, Loki leans onto the bed, that starving look back on his fine features. "On your knees, little one. It's time to take you." You don't know what he means exactly but your body responds regardless.

Loki massages your skin from the swell of your bottom, over your spine, and across your shoulders. Arching your back into his touch, you mewl, impatient to have more of him. Your hips rock back towards his, straining for the contact that has been promised since you met, when Loki swiftly fists your hair. Pulling your head back sharply he snarls into your ear, "Greedy little slut, aren't you?"

Before you can answer, Loki thrusts into you, fully sheathing himself to the hilt. You scream at the invasion. He's large and forceful, buried cruelly against your cervix, and not withdrawing. No, he pushes in deeper, grinding his pelvis into your buttocks. Loki's hands fan across your hips, sealing you together, preventing you from escaping his punishing thrusts.

"Oh no, little one, you'll take all I have to give and be grateful." Loki barked at you in time with his driving rhythm. His fingers start stroking your clit while Loki continues his assault on your quivering body.

Despite the hard use, your hips begged for more of him. With every forward snap from Loki your internal walls reached out to him. Your core was unwilling to be separated from his cock until ecstasy had been reached. Before long you were riding him, bouncing yourself on his impossibly hard shaft, shouting profanity in fits and starts.

"You think you're going to cum, my little hellion? You believe that this devilish brute will let you take your pleasure so easily?" You whimper pathetically, fearful that you will be denied your elation, worried that Loki has found a fault in you.

"Stop moving." Though it almost kills you, your muscles freeze at Loki's command. Teasing you, "Tell me, little one, who do you serve?"

Willing your whole body to behave, you answer, "You... you, Loki" Loki rewards you by pulling straight down on your overly sensitive nipples. When you cry out he laughs deeply, "That's right. I am your god now, little one, your dark master. And you belong to me. Now do your master's bidding and fuck me like the bitch in heat I know you truly are!"

His words drive your flame of desire into frenzy as you force yourself onto Loki's waiting steel over and over. He doesn't touch you, at least not with his hands, only your carnal flesh connects the pair of you. Mere moments of bucking against Loki have you coming undone. He knows how close you are, ordering you, "Tell everybody who your soul belongs to! Let them hear you in heaven, my wicked woman!"

"LOKI! LOKI! LOKI!" The word loses all meaning as it tumbles, repeatedly, from your blubbering lips like a mantra for your body's rapture. Pleasure courses through you like wild fire, out of control and unpredictable. It bends your back as you howl like an animal unchained.

Your black euphoria is followed by Loki's. He makes sure that your bodies are locked together in a punishing hold. Your forms melt into one as his hot release is spent inside you.

Sagging on sore elbows, no longer able to hold yourself up, you drop down onto the bed. Loki has bottomed out, stuttering after shocks rippling through you both, but he hasn't withdrawn yet. He lies, snuggled in your sinful embrace, enjoying the sight of your corruption splayed in front of him.

"Loki...?" Barely a whisper, it's the most you can manage with your raw throat.

"Yes?" He can't see your face, can't read your expression, but he is curious.

"Why me?"

Pulling out of you with a gush of your shared passion, Loki turns you onto your back, his blue eyes narrow. "Why you? Little one, you called to me. The murky, mucky parts of your soul that never see the light of day... they scream out, Loki! Your deviant, dark spirit, always ignored. Trampled on. No longer. Your savior is here, little one."

Your wet eyes held Loki's gaze, enraptured and enchanted, as he rolled off the bed. Quietly padding around the fire kissed room on his long legs, Loki stopped when he reached a desk hidden in the gloom. Groaning, the drawer he tugged gave way and after a moments rummaging, he strode towards you once more.

"Little one, I told you there was no love here. But there is pleasure... so much pleasure." Opening the black box for you, Loki presents you with choker of black leather, slim and dainty. "There is also pain, little one. Freeing, soaring pain... Now you must choose. Go, take your clothes and return home to your half life of cheap booze and disappointments or... stay and begin life anew at the side of your soul's true master."

Sitting on your hip, nude, lavender bruises painted on your fire kissed skin, Loki saw how beautifully broken you'd become while with him. For a fleeting second he imagined what loving you would be like, giving away his heart and taking yours in return. But the rage inside him would never let that happen. Could never let that happen.

No, to have you as his conquest would be enough. It had to be. But the choice was yours.

Your fingers brushed over the smooth leather of Loki's collar and all that came with its acceptance. The clothes you'd worn all night were in a folded pile, the last connection to your "normal" life. What to do, what to do?

"Loki...?"

"Yes, little one... have you decided already?" Loki tried to hide the expectation in his voice but you hear it. It's enough to make you smile softly.

You nod.

.............

Tagging my first peep! @iamverity, ❤ enjoy!!

[kate-sinclaire]

some type of love (Drake x MC/Liam x MC)

PART TWO

Part One

Book:
 The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir Pairing(s): 
Drake x MC, Liam x MC (referenced) Summary:
 A night after, a bridal shower, and a quick sneak out. What could go wrong? Rating:
 T

TAGS: @addictedtodrakefanfic​ @princessleac1​ NOTE: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios (minus, for the most part, Gemma Williams), I’m just borrowing them. I also do not own the image.

--

Gemma awoke the next morning with a killer migraine. Wincing, she held her head as her eyes adjusted to the light coming through the windows. How much had she had to drink last night? She glanced over and saw a sleeping Drake beside her, his arm still wrapped, almost protectively, around her. She smiled a little and slowly rose to her feet, causing him to stir ever so slightly. They hadn’t had sex. That much she remembered.

She was still in jeans and a black tank top and when she looked in the mirror, she couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. She looked pathetic. Her mascara had worked its way down her cheeks in vicious streaks, her eyes were still puffy from the night before, and her hoodie sleeves were stained with ink.

“Drake?” she looked over and smiled softly at his peaceful expression as he lay underneath the blankets, his eyes gently closed. She moved over and sat down on his side of the bed, gently resting her hand on his shoulder. “Drake?” His eyes slowly fluttered open and he startled a bit, clearly not expecting to see Gemma so close. “Sorry, I would’ve let you sleep longer but we have a bridal shower to get to.”

He nodded and rubbed his eyes as he sat up. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice thick from sleep. Gemma laughed a little.

“Like hell,” she admitted. “My head is killing me. I haven’t heard from Liam in ages and it’s incredibly possible that I’ll throw up when I see him walking in with Madeleine on his arm.”

Drake gave a knowing nod and ran a hand through his hair, something passing through his eyes, though Gemma didn’t know what. “He just doesn’t want to risk anything for you or your reputation...but I know you’re always on his mind.” And mine, he thought. Not that it mattered. She watched as he reached over and pulled on his jacket, his shirt slowly creeping up his chest revealing just a bit of his abs. She swallowed hard and averted her eyes to the beautiful gown hanging up in her closet; a pastel pink tea dress with intricate white lace coating the bell sleeves. “You going to wear that today?”

“Maybe,” she replied, pursing her lips together. “I just don’t want it to look like I’m trying to upstage the bride to be.”

Drake cocked an eyebrow as he came to his feet. “Isn’t that what you’re trying to do, though?”

Gemma smirked, “Yeah, but I don’t want it to look that way.”

“Well, I think you should go for it. You’d look gorgeous.” Shit. That’s not what he wanted to say. She looked at him in surprise, her cheeks slightly flushed. He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “I mean, um. Yeah. It would look nice on you.” Just stop talking, he told himself. You’re embarrassing yourself.

“Thanks, Walker,” she murmured, her cheeks still red. “I might do that.”

“Good,” he replied, a subtle smile crossing his lips. She held his gaze for a moment before glancing back at the dress.

“I um...I need to get dressed,” she stammered, her cheeks reddening just a bit more.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled nervously. “Uh, yeah. I’ll head out, then. See you later?”

“For sure,” she agreed. He nodded and just as he reached for the doorknob, he turned back to her. 

“Let me know if you need an escape, today,” he said, regretting the offer already. “I sure as hell will.”

Gemma laughed. “Thanks, I will.”

--

“So when you get there, just flash your usual smile. The press will be expecting you to be petty and upset about this whole thing. Show them that you’re above that,” Justin said, speaking quickly and professionally as he tapped something into his phone. Gemma nodded absentmindedly and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Be sure to offer your congratulations to the two of them, as well. Make it obvious so that everyone can say how dignified you were.”

“Okay.” She rested her chin on the back of her hand as she watched the Cordonian scenery blur outside the limo.

“Gem?” Hanna rested a hand on Gemma’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied, sitting up a little straighter. Bertrand looked nervous as he fidgeted in his seat and Maxwell let out a heavy sigh. “How long is this supposed to last?”

“A couple hours, though some will stay longer than that,” Justin answered, leaning back in his seat. A couple hours. Great.

“We’ll be with you the whole time,” Hanna reassured her, giving her a gentle squeeze. “No pressure.”

“Um, yes pressure. Lots of pressure,” Bertrand corrected and Hanna shot him a look. “Apologies, this is just very important for-”

“House Beaumont,” Gemma finished. “I know.”

“And for you,” he said. “We just need to get your reputation back on track.”

“Yeah,” Gemma murmured, not giving a damn about her reputation at the moment. All she cared about was seeing Liam and she knew the odds of actually getting a moment alone with him was close to zero. Part of her didn’t know why she was even trying.

“We’re here. No more sad faces, only smiles,” Justin urged. “If you need me, remember. I’m always just-in time.” He gave a wink before sliding open the limo door.

--

“You haven’t talked to her in a week?” Drake asked, completely shocked. Liam shook his head sadly. He noticed the dark rings under his eyes and all he could think about was how Liam was sleeping alone while Drake had slept with Gemma just last night. “Damn it, Liam, she’s worried about you. She doesn’t even know what you two are right now.”

“Neither do I,” Liam retorted, running a hand down his face. “I love her, Drake, I do. But I don’t know what to do. I can’t do anything to risk getting her in more trouble with the press or Cordonia. I just can’t.”

“Find a way to talk to her today,” Drake ordered, despite himself. He didn’t know what he was doing, just that he wanted her to be happy no matter the cost. And if Liam made her happy then, well, that was that.

“I will,” Liam promised. “I will. Madeleine knows the deal of this arrangement. She just cares about what we look like in public. Nothing else matters to her.” Drake nodded and adjusted his jacket. “Have you been looking after her?” He swallowed hard and nodded again. “Good...thank you.”

“Not a problem,” he lied. Not a problem? Big problem. “You should get down there.”

“Yeah, I suppose I should,” Liam adjusted his tie in the mirror and took in a deep breath. “Rescue me if I need it?” Drake smirked.

“I already made that promise to Williams.” Liam’s eyes lit up at the mention of her name and he couldn’t help but smile a bit. “Now get down there.”

--

“Introducing the future king and queen of Cordonia,” Gemma braced herself as Liam walked out with Madeleine, just as she assumed, on his arm. She wore her usual green gown with a strand of pearls around her neck and, as much as it pained her to admit it, she was stunning. But not as stunning as Liam.

Almost immediately their eyes locked and his widened slightly as he took her in. She had decided to wear the pink tea dress after all, complete with a pair of beige heels and a golden heart shaped locket that she had picked up before she left New York. Her lips were a light shade of pink and she did her best to smile as genuinely as she could.

“So you wore it after all,” she started as Drake came up from behind her. “Sorry,” he chuckled. 

“It’s fine,” she laughed, her heart still racing. “And you’re...wearing the same thing as last night.” She raised her eyebrows and he shrugged.

“Why would I dress up for something I don’t agree with?” he asked.

“Fair point,” she agreed, watching as Liam greeted the members of several noble houses. “I guess I should start meeting and greeting.”

“Or,” he prompted, looking around nonchalantly. This was a bad idea.

“Or?” she asked, clearly intrigued.

“Or we get out of here for a bit. I know a place nearby. Great food, great atmosphere. American.”

“American, you say?” she bit down on her bottom lip in thought and then nodded. “Let’s do it.”

“You don’t want to say hi to Liam first?” A part of him was surprised; a large part at that. She shook her head.

“He kept me waiting for a week. I can keep him waiting for awhile, too.” Damn. He nodded and offered his arm; why did he offer his arm? Just as he was about to put it down, she took it and beamed up at him.

“Getting formal on me, Walker?”

“Not even in your dreams, Williams.”

[garden-uprooted]

“One body, two souls” (( god I can't imagine there being any personality that'd be worse to fuse Spinel's with than Dom's and vice versa and I MUST hear what your take on what that Hell Fusion would be like is omfggggggggggg ))

Send “One body, two souls” to see what I think the fusion of our muses would be like // Still Accepting!

Gemstone Name & Reasoning: Mookaite (yes I KNOW there’s no reason the gem would change since Spinel’s the only Gem in the fusion, but finding the gemstone for the fusion is half the fun, shut up-) 

Okay so I KNOW the name sounds weird, but I NEEDED a specific feel for the fusion to fully WORK, y’know? Their fusion would lack ANY sort of Spinel’s typical restraint; a completely wild free spirit. I needed a gemstone that encouraged the release of inhibitions and made you set your sights on things that you’d previously held yourself back from. 

“Embrace your wanderlust and let Mookaite be your spiritual compass, pointing you in the direction of adventure. Awaken your true potential with the energy of this stone, and pursue the passions you’ve put on hold. The willpower that mookaite stimulates in your solar plexus and root chakras will rouse in you a desire to explore new activities. Its exciting, yet comforting energy makes for a great travel companion for those on a solo journey.”

I would go into more detail, but in order to properly do that, I’d need to jump onto the next section uwu… 

Personality:

OKAY. I HAVE SO MANY FUCKIN’ THOUGHTS ON THIS MESS WHOM I ALREADY IMMEDIATELY ADORE 

Okay okay okay, SO. Obviously they’re a pretty toxic fusion. This should go without saying- two chaotic energies in ONE body?? 

… But it ISN’T because Spinel and Lord D DON’T get along, oh no..

It’s BECAUSE they get along so SWIMMINGLY. 

Spinel is naturally impulsive and reckless, sometimes, due to Trauma TM, and also just because she’s Like That, but she HAS self-restraint. She can tell (most of the time) when she’s gone too far with something. And Lord D, while not nearly AS hyperactive as Spinel (but ABSOLUTELY is also an ADHD mess), has undoubted patience and self-control, as well. 

They’re “bouncing off of the walls” off the shits chaos lesbians, but they both know how to reign themselves in. 

While fused as Mookaite, however?

That ALL goes out of the window.

They FEED into each other’s boundless thoughts- they ENCOURAGE each other’s deepest darkest carnal desires ALL in the name of 

FUN. 

Spinel is a people-pleaser, above all. She’s LITERALLY an entertainer, and she ADORES her job/”life purpose”. She won’t hesitate to change herself or mold herself into what others want/expect her to be so long as she looks up to and wants to impress said person. 

And DING DING DING, Lord Dominator fits that criteria. Spinel gladly falls into the more submissive role in their fusion- letting Lord D pull the strings from the back (AKA, the Front). 

A little confusing? Don’t worry, I’ll clear that up a little later down the line. 

For now, let’s just say that Mookaite is THE definition of discord and madness. She practically BATHES in the tears of others- RELISHES in pained cries as she tramples over (or SLASHES through) people. Jokes? Japes? Cruel pranks? Snarky remarks? Low blows to people’s self-esteem via honing in on their weaknesses and using it against them? 

You want it, Mookaite’s got it all! There are absolutely NO remnants of Spinel’s kindness or compassion to be had. It’s all overshadowed by the desire to be ACTIVE and to MOVE and to spend all of her child-like ENERGY (that has practically no limit to it, so long as they’re fused together). 

She’s INTELLIGENT, though. SCARILY so. A force that you DO. NOT. WANT. To reckon with. If she WANTS something, she GETS it. There is no escape, so don’t even bother hiding or running. 

A MASTER manipulator and strategist, as well as wild party animal and unrestrained force of destruction. She’ll gladly restrain herself long enough to string people along- only for the SWEET sweet eventual payment of said person’s bitter tears as they either have their heart, or their spine broken. 

…However… I WILL say that, SHOULD Mookaite ever encounter someone that Spinel KNOWS (and thus most likely automatically CARES about), and the Dom part of them goes “OH, someone to hurt/”prank”!!!”, Spinel WILL go “Wait wait wait, but- but they’re my FRIEND, I’m not gonna-??” 

It’s SO MUCH more DIFFICULT for Spinel to vent our her feelings/frustrations on someone who ISN’T a complete stranger to her. All of that empathy and WANT to be somebody’s very best friend never VANISHED. It just got restrained. 

The SECOND Mookaite tries to/decides to ATTACK/HURT, say, someone like STEVEN, Spinel takes full control and unfuses at once.

Physical Appearance:

Oh, they want to make sure they can at LEAST tower over most humans they encounter. I’d IMAGINE Dom is around 5′7″, and Spinel just barely naturally reaches 5′3″ in her current form (I headcanon she WAS 5′0″ or so before Pink left her- height is intimidating), and so Mookaite is looking to be around 6′5″ to possibly JUST shy of being 7′0″. Of course, they can stretch, still, so their natural standing height isn’t all THAT important. 

Remember how I described their personality earlier, though? What with Spinel playing the more subservient role while Dom takes the reigns? Yeah, that’s coming back into play here, baybey!!! 

While Mookaite takes on Dom’s slender and athletic physique and generally uses her body as a base, their face resembles Spinel’s the most. At first glance, SPINEL would seem like the dominant in the fusion, actually. 

However, in spite of that, Spinel’s loud and proud presence in Mookaite is only representative of her and Dom’s RELATIONSHIP. Dominator is Spinel’s enabler- turning her from a loose canon to one fully loaded and ready to fire; the consequences be damned. 

So, in actuality, Dom is still, naturally, the dominant. Spinel is just her willing (?) puppet to enact out their obscene horrors. 

Their hair is styled almost exactly like Dom’s- except it’s colored like Spinel’s, and it’s an absolute jagged frizzy mess. It kinda looks like they took a pair of scissors and tried to style it themselves, to be honest; but it’s stylish in the “manic pixie dream girl” way, if you know what I mean? 

Dom’s white hair shows in white streaks throughout. Mooktaite’s entire color scheme is themed around blacks, dark magentas/reds, deep browns, oranges, and yellows, to boot; drawing inspiration from the gemstone, Mookaite, itself, and Dominator’s attire. 

They keep Spinel’s poofy bottom, but it acts more like short shorts that flow seamlessly into Dom’s split dress; which is masterfully torn and tattered just at the knees. They also keep Spinel’s gloves- they just gain a more ragged look, as well, and are styled after Dom’s elbow-length ones. 

Say bye bye to Spinel’s fuckign clown shoes, tho, they’re Dom’s sneakers, now. RIP clown shoes. Ye shall be missed. 

Mookaite’s eyes are Forever Swirly And Crazed. It makes her look like she downed ten espresso shots in one sitting and went back to the coffee shop for more. Her mascara is also There, but it’s X2. 

It’s ALWAYS running down her face- yes, actually running down her chin and dripping right off. An endless supply of messy, drippy mascara that LOOKS like they’ve been crying in it for five hours, but 

HAHA!

Mookaite doesn’t CRY! 

On the outside. 

Oh, also, did I mention the fact that they have extra limbs? Typically it’s only just two arms and two legs, but as an extra “HEY, WATCH THIS, AND ALSO FUCK YOU!!!” they can sprout another pair of arms from their back at will. And yes it makes sickening cracking sounds, because Dominator has bones that CAN make those sounds. 

Does it ACTUALLY hurt her to do, though? 

Eh. Your choice. 

Oh oh oh and NATURALLY they have sharp, shark-like teeth. Why??? Would they NOT???? Bruh they’re fuckin off the wall, they’re demonic as all hell and so basically I Love Them 

…. Oh, and uh…. Sarah Stiles’ Spinel’s New Yorker accent that tends to be more of an undertone, than anything..? 

It’s fully pronounced in Mookaite. High pitched, squeaky, psychotic Betty Boop hours, folks.

Combat: 

My fingers hurt but you know how Spinel has her scythe, Suzie? And Dom can control magma and ice/frost? AND you know how they BOTH can stretch and extend their limbs/Dom is super flexible? 

Now, I’m not saying crazy fast contortionist that can wreck you from like twenty feet away, but- okay I totally am.

Something tells me Mookaite would be MUCH more a fan of hands-on fighting, though. Sure she COULD either suit up or use Dom’s powers and Spinel’s elasticity to one-hit KO their opponent, but where’s the FUN in THAT? 

And thus where Suzie comes in. 

Mookaite is a brick POWERHOUSE- chaotic demented laughter all the while while she SLASHES through her enemies; twirling through the air and jumping on top of/off of their shoulders or heads. She’s a bratty gamer girl about it the whole time, too; mocking her adversaries for being “too slow” or “not putting up enough of a fight/challenge”. 

She’s ALWAYS looking for fights and worthy opponents- swinging Suzie around like the huge scythe is a baton and not a VERY deadly weapon. She treats her like a prized cane half the time; preferring to have her fully activated and ready to go at the drop of a hat. 

[lickstynine]

Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Twenty-Nine

written with @ocsickficsideblog

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Kit was snoring away on Siofra’s shoulder when they pulled up in a cobbled drive. They weren’t really in Dublin proper anymore; Siofra’s gran actually lived a little ways north in the village of Malahide. The cottage they parked in front of was old but well-maintained with a thatched roof, ivy and flowers crawling over the walls. Siofra straightened up and elbowed Kit.

“Oi. We’re here.”

Kit snorted and sat up with a jerk, rubbing his eyes. “Hm?”

“We’re in merry old Ireland,” Alistair said. “At the house.”

“How is my hair?” Kit asked, looking in frustration around the back seat. “Ugh, this car doesn’t have passenger mirrors.”

Taddy snickered quietly. “Most cars don’t, sir.”

“Really?” Kit looked surprised, while Siofra shook her head, offering him a hairbrush and mirror from her overnight bag.

“Kit, good god, you are such a snob.”

Kit scowled indignantly. “I am not! I’m just used to nicer cars.” He smoothed his hair in the mirror, handing the brush back to Siofra. “Where did my mascara go?”

“Ye don’t need mascara.” Siofra scoffed, “You’re meetin’ my gran, not the Queen.”

“Kit wears mascara if he’s nipping to the loo,” Alistair said.

Siofra rolled her eyes. “Which bag did ye put it in?”

“Um… my toiletries bag, probably.”

“And which’o these thousand bags is that?” Siofra asked.

Kit paused. “Er… the smallest one, I think.”

“We’ll be here all bloody night,” Alistair groaned.

“I have my mascara.” Siofra offered, fishing in her bag again. “I know it’s probably cheaper’n yours, but I promise I don’t have fleas or nothin’.”

Kit paused. He hadn’t even thought of that — he wasn’t used to hanging out with people who wore makeup (save for Alistair’s emo eyeliner). “Oh. Okay.” He took the mascara from Siofra, tucking his glasses into his breast pocket and holding the mirror inches from his face to make himself up. He had to put the glasses back on to actually see if the mascara looked good, handing the mirror back to Siofra once he was satisfied. “Thank you.”

“Anything to actually get yer skinny arse in the house.” She grinned, kissing his cheek and helping him out of the car. Cillian and Riagán were already gathering luggage from the back, carrying pretty much everything despite the ridiculous number of bags Kit had brought.

“Kit, how much stuff do you need? We’re not moving in,” Alistair said.

“These are my travel bags.” Kit replied matter-of-factly. The only thing he carried was an expensive bottle of wine — he’d had Taddy pick it up while they were at the ball last night — it felt tacky to show up on Christmas without a gift. He had so many layers on, he actually didn’t look cartoonishly skinny for once, but he still shivered in the brisk winter air.

“It’s bloody freezing,” Alistair said, hugging his old jacket around him.

“Then grab yer bags so we can go inside. I gotta get the rest’o Princess’s shit.” Siofra said, slinging Kit’s sleek leather duffle bag over her shoulder. Finny ran happily around the yard, leaving pawprints in the crisp snow. Alistair cheered up and chased Finny, then hurled a snowball at Kit. The older boy shrieked, fumbling with the bottle in his hands.

“Al! You almost made me drop this! And that’s cold!”

“You’re going to be inside in two seconds. This is the point of snow, Kit.”

“Now I’m going to be damp when it melts. Snow is vile.” Kit huffed. Siofra snorted, gathering up the last of his bags and walking past him up to the front door.

“Come on, Princess, time to escape from the ‘vile snow’.” She teased, mimicking his accent. Kit huffed again, but he followed her up the walk.

“Am I going to have to share beds with one of your brothers?” Alistair asked. “How big are the bedrooms? They look like they’ll eat me.”

Siofra snorted. “Nah, we’ve got loads’o sleepin’ bags. There’s only two guest rooms, but nobody’s gotta share beds. The boys will probably share with Dad, an’ we gals can have the other room.”

Kit frowned, feigning offense. “Excuse you! I will not share my room with you commoners!”

“Yeah, right, you’d button yourself into her pyjamas if she was warm,” Alistair scoffed.

“I would not!”

“I mean, you’d probably fit, at least in the baggy ones.” Siofra grinned.

Kit’s cold-flushed cheeks went even redder. “Just knock before I lose my fingers to frostbite.”

“If ye insist, yer majesty.” Siofra banged on the painted front door, and it was promptly opened by an old lady who barely came up to her shoulder. “Hi, Gran! Sorry we’re so late, Kit’s family had a Christmas party yesterday.”

“At least ye had the decency to show up. This makes three years now Brogan can’t be bothered to haul ‘is lot across the pond. ‘Travellin’ at Christmas is too stressful,’ ‘e says. I’ll make ‘is bloomin’ life stressful if ‘e can’t be bothered to visit his own mother.” The old woman muttered, clearly quite annoyed with her son.

“Good to see you too, Gran. Me an’ dad an’ these idiots are always here for ya.” Siofra grinned. “Can we come in? We’ve got a lot’o bags to set down.”

“Oh, right, of course. In ye come, don’t want ye freezin’.” Gran stepped aside, making each of her grandkids lean down to kiss their cheeks as they walked by. Kit and Alistair shuffled in last. “And which o’these lads is yours, Siofra?” She asked, looking both boys up and down through glasses nearly as thick as Kit’s.

“The pretty one.” Siofra replied immediately. Alistair immediately scowled, but didn’t contradict her. Kit tried not to laugh, instead turning to smile at Gran.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. My name is Kit, this is my cousin Alistair.” He took a hand off the wine bottle to shake hers, then held the bottle out. “I know this isn’t much, but I wanted to bring something to thank you for having us.”

She took it at once, squinting down her bifocals at the elaborate script on the label. “Not much? It’s been years since I’ve even seen a bottle this nice. You’re more than welcome here!” Gran gave Kit a crinkly smile, and without warning, her arms wrapped around his waist in a friendly hug. He was clearly a little startled, but even Kit couldn’t be scared of a five-foot-nothing eighty-year-old woman. He hugged her back, hoping she would assume he was being gentle with her and not just the weakest grown man she’d ever met. When she let go, he smiled again.

“I really do appreciate you having us, and your home is lovely. My mum used to talk about growing up in a cottage like this…”

“Oh? And where is she from?” Gran asked.

“Pretty near here, actually.” Kit said, “I can never remember the name of the town, but she said it was by Drogheda.”

Gran grinned at him. “That’s not far at all! You’re practically family.”

“I suppose so, yeah.” Kit smiled. He wasn’t sure how to feel — it was strange, but nice, being treated like he was properly welcome. At the same time, he was terrified he might do something wrong and upset Siofra’s family. Without even realizing, he’d started shaking where he stood.

“Are ye alright, dearie? Ye look a bit pale. Ye should have a cake, I just made some.” Gran shuffled off to the kitchen, returning with a tray of tea and cakes.

Alistair had stepped right back and squatted by Finny, scared she’d try to hug him too. He didn’t know how to deal with old people. They always seemed to hate him, since he was rude and loud and clumsy. She set down the tray on the coffee table and squatted next to him.

“What are we hidin’ for?”

It made him jump. “Um, I’m not really hiding, as such. I’m just crap with new people.”

“I’m not new people. I’m old people. Come have a cake.” Gran said. That made Alistair grin a bit, and he generally always did as you said when you offered cake. She stood back up, leading him and Finny into the living room where Kit, Siofra, and Cillian were sitting on the couch, and Riagán sprawled across a sofa chair. They all had tea and cake, though Kit seemed much more interested in his tea, as usual. Alistair sat on the floor with Finny, giving him the odd lick of icing.

Gran smiled at the kids, settling into a rocking chair with her own tea and cake. “Ye said ye were at a party last night? How was it?”

“Er…” Kit wasn’t sure how to explain, but Siofra filled in.

“Posh and snobby, but the food was great. Mostly obnoxious old folk and their bratty offspring.”

Gran shrugged. “Long as they fed ya well.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Siofra grinned. “We shoulda taken pictures, I looked great in that dress…”

“You should wear it to a gig. It’ll look hilarious in that setting,” Alistair said.

Siofra snorted. “If I dressed that nice at a grimy old pub, I'd get mugged on my way out.”

“I’m amazed Kit’s never been mugged. Even me and Jasper were mugged, and Jasper is proud of the fact that he buys clothes in charity shops.”

“I don’t go in the parts of town where people get mugged.” Kit replied flatly.

“Even when you travelled?”

“I don’t… Good question.” Kit furrowed his brow, trying to think. “Maybe?”

“You don’t remember?” Alistair said.

“Honestly? No.” Kit shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you every country I’ve been to if my life depended on it. I certainly don’t remember what I did in every one.”

Gran was staring at him. “How much do you travel, son?”

Kit smoothed his slacks. “Well… not much anymore. There were a few years where I was jet-setting constantly.”

“Jet-settin’? What a fancy lad!”

“Well… I just… it’s not like that.” Kit stared sheepishly at his tea. Siofra snickered.

“He’s the fanciest lad,” Alistair said.

“I can tell! Siofra, ye should keep this one! He can fund the rest of my retirement.” Gran said.

“He could fund a million retirements,” Alistair muttered.

Kit groaned, his cheeks pink. “I’m not that rich. Please stop.”

“Not that rich? Ye own a bloody island!” Siofra cried. Kit hid his face in his hands, while Gran stared at him.

“It’s a lovely island when it’s not full of our family,” Alistair said. “Kit doesn’t like it though.”

“We’d be happy to take it off yer hands.” Gran grinned.

Kit chuckled. “I think Al has already claimed it in my not-yet-existent will.”

“I’d rather mourn you in the tropical sun.”

Kit rolled his eyes, while Gran and the Raffertys laughed. Siofra turned to her grandmother. “Speakin’o sons, where’s yours?”

“Ah, ‘e went to see some old friends on the way back from church. I only let ‘im go cause I didn’t think you’d be here so soon. ‘e shouldn’t be too long.” She explained. “And ‘e should be bringin’ food.”

“Good, I’m starving!” Siofra enthused, and her brothers nodded.

“Well, eat more cake, then. I didn’t bring it out to sit here and get stale!” Gran told them.

“We don’t have to go to church, though, do we?” Alistair groaned. “I had enough of that growing up.”

“We already went today, so yer blasphemous arse is free.” Gran smirked.

“My heathen arse is grateful.”

“Kids always are.” Gran shook her head, but she clearly wasn’t actually upset about him missing church.

“Do we have to go to midnight mass?”

Gran shook her head. “I’m too old for all’o that. I wanna be drinkin’ in my pyjamas at midnight.”

“Perfect,” Alistair said, nodding. She smiled at him.

“What do you boys usually do at Christmas?”

“Avoid our family at all cost.” Kit replied.

“Mooch off other families. I’ll need to Skype my fiancé on Christmas Day.”

“That’s today, lad. You’ll want to get on that.” Gran said. Siofra snickered.

“You know what I mean. When he’ll be awake.”

She gave him a strange look. “It’s afternoon. How late does ‘e sleep?”

“It’s afternoon?” He looked at his phone. “Oh fucking hell, I can’t do travelling.”

Siofra snorted, while Gran just shook her head. “Evidently.” There was the sound of keys rattling in the front door, and Finny ran over to bark excitedly. “Look who’s finally back.”

Even when the door opened, the frame was nearly filled. Mr. Rafferty was a massive man, almost six and a half feet tall, broad and muscular but with a slight dad belly. He had only a bit of shaved stubble around his head, but his vibrantly orange beard was long and full as a Viking’s. Kit was staring at him in a mixture of fear and awe, but Siofra ran to tackle her dad alongside Finny. He caught her easily, which further impressed Kit — he couldn’t stand up to a tackle from just Finny.

“There’s my gal! ‘ow ‘ave ye been?” Mr. Rafferty was a deep baritone like Riagán, with an even stronger accent, and he laughed when Siofra squeezed his neck.

“Good! I went to a posh party last night. It was wild. Everyone was stupid fancy, and the food was great!”

Gran had shuffled over, and she was tugging on both of them. “That’s nice, tell ‘im inside before we’ve got a foot of snow in the foyer!” Siofra laughed and let go of her dad so he could step out of the doorway.

Alistair raised his eyebrows at Kit. “Careful he doesn’t eat you.” Kit just nodded, nervously gawking while Siofra continued to chatter with her dad, now joined by her brothers. Kit wasn’t sure whether to introduce himself or wait to be introduced or just run and hide while he had the chance. Alistair got up and sidled over to Kit, sitting beside him. Kit scooted closer to his cousin at once, withering in his seat when Mr. Rafferty turned to look at him.

“So you’re the boy my daughter is so interested in?”

Kit nodded, trying to compose himself and look like less of a quivering pansy. “Yes, sir, I am. I was… my father… hosted the posh party Siofra was telling you about.”

“So I’ve ‘eard.” Mr. Rafferty nodded. “It’s a good thing ye come from money. I can’t see ye bein’ much of an athlete like my boys.” There was a bit of a grin peeking out of his beard.

That got a bit of a smile out of Kit. “No, sir, that was never my speciality. I was good enough at fencing and archery, but even that took me ages to get right.”

“He couldn’t pull back the bow,” Alistair mumbled.

“When I was younger, arse! At least I didn’t get banned for aiming at other people!” Kit huffed. Siofra and her family chuckled, especially Mr. Rafferty.

“You two sound like you’ll fit in just fine ‘ere. But you’ll fit in better if ye gimme a hand bringin’ food from the car.” He grinned properly, Siofra and her brothers already scrambling outside to gather dinner.

“You’d better stay here, Kit. I’ll go help them,” Alistair sighed.

“I can help. I have hands!” Kit got up to follow, but Gran grabbed his shoulder.

“Stay here, dearie. I need help settin’ the table, I trust you’re the least likely to break any plates.” She smiled, and he smiled back, nodding obediently.

“I can do that, yes. I know a really nice way to fold napkins, the maids showed me when I was little.” Kit said, following Gran into the kitchen. The two of them laid out the table, while Alistair and the rest of the Raffertys brought in chicken, ham, pie, potatoes, and mountains of other sides and sweets.

“Oooh, Kit’s doing his special napkins,” Alistair said as he went past.

“Any napkin is special to someone who’s never used one.” Kit quipped back. Gran and Siofra made almost identical snort noises.

“That’s probably the heaviest thing you’ve lifted this year. Except your wallet,” Alistair shot back.

“At least there’s something in my wallet. You might as well just put your ID in your pocket.”

“I’d just end up losing it then.”

Kit shook his head, smoothing a napkin before he folded it. “You are truly a disaster.”

“Can I help?” Alistair grabbed a napkin and started folding it into a paper airplane shape. Kit snatched it away.

“No. Help get the food ready, or put out silverware. You can’t break silverware.”

“I don’t break dishes, snobby.”

Kit sighed, taking a deep breath and lowering his voice. “Al. Please. I cannot do this today.”

“Kit. Sometimes you really need to learn to take a joke,” Alistair said, going back out to help with food. The older boy pursed his lips, silently going back to folding napkins. When he was done, he went around meticulously laying out the silverware, making sure each set was properly arranged and evenly spaced. Siofra rolled her eyes at him as she set a dish of potatoes on the table.

“We’re not expectin’ the queen, ya know.”

“The table can still look nice.” Kit shrugged. Alistair didn’t glance in his direction. He didn’t even look mad, just weary. Now that the table was set, Kit scuttled off to see if Gran needed more help. She had nearly half a dozen stronger assistants doing all the real work, so she simply tasked Kit with making tea. Alistair hovered awkwardly by the table, not sure what else he could do. Gran smiled at him.

“You can help me gather the extra chairs. I had to pull out the leaves of the table to fit everyone.”

He flashed her a quick smile, happy to be set a task, following her on a chair hunt. She guided him to various rooms around the house that had chairs to spare. Two from desks and one from a vanity got them the seven they needed, and Gran plunked down at the head of the table in a cushy desk chair. Alistair just sat at the edge of the table at the far end. He didn’t bother to check where Kit was sitting. Finny sat on Alistair’s feet since his human wasn’t sitting down yet.

Siofra brought drinks to the table, beer for her family and tea for the guests. Kit wasn’t bothered — he’d never been a fan of beer, he’d rather wait and have wine when they brought out dessert. He was bothered by the tension in the room, though; he could feel the frostiness radiating off of his cousin. He sat silently next to Siofra, staring at the tablecloth and rubbing the corner of his napkin between his thumb and forefinger. Alistair stayed put, simply hoping one of the less threatening members of Siofra’s family sat beside him. He was flanked by the brothers, who didn’t hesitate to lean over him and continue the argument they’d been having about rugby.

Gran reached as far as she could across the table, trying to smack them with her napkin. “Will you two stuff it for one minute? We have grace to say.”

Both boys retreated into their seats, holding out their hands obediently to start grace. “Sorry, Gran.”

“You’re forgiven. This time. Now, everybody hold hands and shut yer mouths.”

Kit did as told without question, the habit still ingrained though he hadn’t said grace in nearly a decade. Once Grandfather Victor passed, Reggie couldn’t be arsed with nitpicky traditions — he just wanted to eat. For Kit, it was almost too familiar, especially with the looming ginger giant across the table. Luckily, the memories faded when Gran spoke up, her croaky Irish lilt a far cry from the Raycrafts’ posh intonations. The prayer, too, was familiar, and Kit found himself mumbling along without even trying.

Bless us, O Lord, and these, they gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Alistair leaned back so Cillian and Riagán could join hands around him. He wasn’t going to scoff at religion but he wasn’t about to join in either.  Kit swallowed a sigh, wishing his cousin had the slightest sense of courtesy. As everyone’s hands returned to their laps, Gran started doling out food, starting with the two closest to her — Kit and Mr. Rafferty. Kit mumbled that he didn’t need much, but she either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, heaping both plates full of everything the table had to offer before moving on to feed her grandkids. She finally got to the end of the table, hovering over Alistair with a serving spoon.

“And what would you like, Mister Heretic?”

That actually made him smile a bit, and he gave her his orders looking a bit brighter. She piled his plate with potatoes and other sides before shuffling back around to her own seat and getting food. Alistair only managed to eat a bite or two before he felt a cold, wet, nose poking his leg.

He wasn’t sure they allowed feeding dogs from the table, and he didn’t have any meat anyway. He tried a dollop of mashed potato on a spoon, holding it under the table. Finny gobbled it up at once, nearly taking the spoon as well. Riagán and Cillian were both trying not to laugh at the slurping noise from under the table. Eventually, Riagán caved, letting out a muffled snort.

“Got a friend down there?” He whispered.

“Don’t tell your gran,” Alistair whispered back. .

Riagán nodded, silently dropping a bit of ham for Finny. Siofra didn’t notice, too busy chatting with her father and grandmother about upcoming performances and football games. Riagán and Cillian were more interested in eating than talking, while Kit was trying to find a way to tactfully do neither. He was still in a bit of a frail state from the ferry trip, and the steaming mountain of chicken, ham, potatoes, and vegetables all smothered in gravy, looked heavier than him and twice as sturdy. He didn’t even know where to start.

Siofra elbowed Kit lightly in the ribs. “It ain’t poisoned. We got ours from the same dish.” She teased. In a softer voice, she added, “Don’t be pressed about finishin’, but try to eat some.”

Kit forced a smile, slowly scooping up a glob of potato. As he’d feared, it was terribly rich, but the texture was smooth and buttery, and he didn’t hesitate so much going in for a second bite. There was something about homemade foods that got to him a little. As pretentious as it sounded, he was almost bored with the five-star-restaurant-style food Chef made. It was strange, and quite pleasant, to be able to taste the genuine effort and humanity in a dish.

Though it only made a small dent in the ridiculous heap of dinner he’d been given, Kit actually ate a lot more than usual. His chicken and vegetables were gone, along with a good bit of the potatoes, ham, and stew. He felt like there was still about another two days’ worth of food on his plate, and he thought he might die if he ate much more of it. He set his fork down carefully, smoothing his napkin and sipping his tea. Alistair glanced at him several times throughout the meal, but he tried to make it look like he wasn’t. He didn’t want to get on Kit’s nerves again, and he was still sore. He couldn’t eat like the Raffertys, but he managed to clear his plate.

All three Rafferty kids were well into their second plates, and their father had cleared his. Gran wasn’t quite as far along, but it was a lack of agility, not appetite, slowing her. She had just finished her first plate, and was now heaping enough stew and potatoes for five onto the freshly-emptied dish. When she saw Kit staring pensively into his tea, food still piled in front of him, she looked shocked.

“Done already? You’ve barely started!”

Kit looked up from his tea, smiling sheepishly. “Please don’t take offense. The food was lovely, really. I just don’t have much of an appetite.”

“Much’o one? Ya don’t seem to have any at all!” As a grandmother, Ms. Rafferty was legally obliged to be very upset about this.

Siofra cut in, knowing Kit would just cave if Gran kept going. “Gran. It’s fine. The plate was half as big as him.”

“Well that’s the point! If he eats it all, he might actually be up to a healthy weight!”

Siofra couldn’t help snorting at that, though she felt guilty when she saw Kit’s face go red. “I know ye wanna help, but you’re tryin’ to stuff a double-D tit in a double-A bra.”

Now Siofra’s brothers cracked up, and even Kit couldn’t help chuckling to himself. Alistair kept a straight face, but only because he was genuinely puzzling the logistics and wondering if that was actually possible. It must be very uncomfortable for the girl. Gran huffed, as if this were somehow a great affront to her. “Fine. But ye haven’t heard the last’o me.” She waved her spoon mock-threateningly at Kit, and he laughed again, hoping she hadn’t seen him flinch.

Dinner finished relatively without incident, except for Riagán’s failed attempt to sneak Finny a parsnip. The dog had no interest in it, and a displeased snorf from under the table caught Siofra’s attention.

“Oi! Which’o ya bastards is feedin’ my dog?”

Cillian feigned ignorance, looking at Riagán and Alistair with a dramatic glare to match his sisters. “Sneaky gits,” He muttered, as if he hadn’t palmed half a slab of ham under the table ten minutes ago.

“Grass,” Alistair muttered back. He couldn’t really deny it, his spoon was halfway under the table. Finny licked his hand gratefully, since Alistair had offered mashed potatoes, not a lousy parsnip.

Siofra rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna chop you lot up instead’o buyin’ dog food next month.”

“Don’t do that!” Kit cried, “Finny might die from a dumb-arse overdose.”

Now Siofra was cackling again, leaving Riagán to wave a parsnip menacingly at Kit. He made the mistake of moving his hand too far, and Siofra bit off half the parsnip. Kit blinked.

“Well. That was quite the emasculation metaphor.”

“Oi! Ya didn’t hafta make it dirty!” Siofra glared at him, though she was starting to snicker.

Kit held up his hands. “Don’t look at me, Circe. I’ll leave you and Jaime to it.”

“Ooh, you’re talkin’ about the Throne Games, yes? I love that show!” Gran said.

Kit spun around, clearly shocked. “You watch Game of Thrones?”

“Yes!” Gran nodded. “I like Daenerys. Her hair is lovely, and she always seems to bag the tastiest young men.”

Kit nearly choked trying not to spit tea on the table, while all three grandchildren snorted with laughter. Mr. Rafferty looked horrified. “Mum!”

“Don’t ‘mum’ me! Yer dad’s been dead for twenty years, let a woman live!”

Alistair looked baffled, feeding Finny under the table. “They’re all mad,” he muttered to him. He didn’t see the irony there. Finny responded with a cheerful ruff, causing Siofra to turn around again.

“Are ya still feedin’ the dog?”

“No,” Alistair lied. “I’m just chatting to him.”

Siofra stared silently at Alistair for a while, trying to figure out if he thought she was that stupid, or if he was just that stupid. Eventually, she just shook her head and went to get another beer. Kit rolled his eyes, but he was smiling a little. Alistair didn’t know what Kit was smiling at. Probably Siofra. He went back to petting and surreptitiously feeding Finny. Siofra smacked him in the arm with her beer bottle when she returned.

“You’re about as stealthy as a yellow elephant.”

“That means ye can sneak past the colourblind!” Gran chimed in. Even her own son looked at her, not sure if she was kidding or going senile. She left them to wonder, heaping more potatoes onto her plate and going back to eating.

[artificialqueens]

trainwreck (Branjie) chapter 2 - PinkGrapefruit

chapter 2. trainwreck headed for us but we never think of runnin’

[lesbian fake dating AU]

A/N - for linda because you were drunk when i wrote this and honestly it made it so much better. And also thanks to @freykitten for teaching me apostrophes and dealing with my tense hopping, you are way too patient x

*

She’d spent hours on this outfit but even now, sitting in her mom’s Toyota Corolla, she’s unsure if she’s made the right choice. The green of the silk sits nicely on her collarbone, the deep v showing just enough cleavage to still feel sexy whilst being grandparent-appropriate. Her mom’s non-committal noises and pleasant smile told her enough when she’d gotten in but she still feels like it’s all a little too much. She’s fake dating a girl she might have a genuine (but very much ignorable) crush on and she’s about to meet the parents. Too much.

As she gets out of the car, feels the soft Tampa breeze against her exposed legs and lets it muss her hair a little, she starts to realise just what she’s gotten herself into. She’s standing in front of a large, expensive looking condo, beachfront view and all. The garden seems to give way to sand in some places and the rose bushes, god, the rose bushes look exquisite. She nudges the door closed and grabs the small purse she’d balanced on the roof before watching the black car roll back down the driveway. Brooke gulps. Heart beating at a mile a minute, she slowly makes her way up the front path, heels catching on the neat gravel as she tries (and even with her dancers’ grace, kind of fails) to hold her poise. Later, she’ll laugh about it, joke the tall emerald heels were against her - for now, she waits cautiously by the door, trying to find the confidence to knock.

The door opens by itself. Or at least that’s what she thinks as she hyper-fixates on the door knocker, elaborate gold roses securing a snake biting its tail. In reality, a short girl with caramel skin and warm brown eyes opened it and resigned herself to staring at her guest intently. She’s dressed in a red mini dress, thin cotton barely skimming her mid-thigh. Her height is less impacted by Brooke’s heels but more by the lack of her own, looking tiny against the 6’3 ballet dancer standing before her. Vanessa laughs, and it’s warm, dripping like melted butter in Brooke’s ears. “Well, don’t just stand there babe, come in,” the low voice sounds playful and Brooke just smiles, thinks that this could be okay, and walks in.

Any confidence she thought she had falters immediately when met with the expectant faces of 15 Latin-American elders.

Vanessa is grabbing her hand, reeling off names left, right and centre and rubbing slow circles into Brooke’s palm, not that she notices. Instead, she closes her eyes in a silent prayer to whatever god decided this would be funny and tries to plan an escape. She is not fast enough. “-is my girlfriend Brooke,” is all she catches of the shorter girl’s spiel before a warm, sticky kiss is planted on her cheek. She curses herself for not paying attention, always seems to miss the most important part of the story even when it turns out to be her.

“Thank you for doing this, you look great,” comes the low voice again, this time a soft whisper into her ear. She feels her entire being blush as she lets Vanessa affect her.

She kicks off her heels before going to take the seat clearly meant for her. She seems to be next to a relatively calm looking old lady with a kind smile and even kinder eyes. Vanessa will be sitting on her other side, and opposite, she’ll have Alexis. Her newly lifted spirits plummet once more as she realises she’s going to spend the entire dinner seated in front of her fake girlfriend’s mother. It takes a lot of effort not to let her perfectly painted face fall straight onto the table in front of her. Luckily, the Latina girl sits next to her quickly and Brooke fights her instinct to grab her hand under the table, funnily enough, feels like she has to hide the ‘relationship’ even when there’s not really a relationship to hide. Vanessa does not share the sentiments, grabs her rough palm with her own soft fingers and intertwines them loosely on her lap. She thanks the lord she’s ambidextrous.

They’re ten minutes into the dinner Alexis has prepared, the lobster is not a typical Sunday dinner but then again, Vanessa’s family don’t seem particularly focused on being typical. It melts in her mouth and Brooke’s not sure if lobsters are supposed to be this good but this one sure as hell is, and then the questions start. “So,” Alexis puts down her fork and glances between the two of them,” how did you meet?” Brooke’s panic must have been evident to Vanessa who starts softly stroking her thumb up and down Brooke’s hand. “We met at that firefly comp, that one a few months back, three or so? Babe?” comes Vanessa’s response, succinct yet oozing a charisma she must have been honing for years. “Yeah, three,” Brooke shoots back, nerves biting at her throat like when you swallow ice water too fast. The woman on Brookes left starts to chuckle, her laughter bouncing off the deep red walls of the dining room. She sinks her toes into the plush carpet and prays for the end of the meal to come as quickly as possible. Instead of an end though, Brooke gets a small foot hooked around her ankle, cold flesh on warm skin. It grounds her as they fend off questions from every relative Vanessa has (although she’ll later discover that these are only the ones Alexis likes enough to have in her home).

“Why have we not met sooner?”

“What kind of dance do you do again?”

“Are you any good?”

“Remind me when you decided to be a lesbian?”

That one stings Brooke a little. It’s not directed at her but it manages to slide in through the cracks in her armour, find a hole deep in her lungs and bury itself there. Her old scars are not sprouting flowers at this moment, but instead, feel like they’re going to split open and pour out all of her secrets for the world to see. She needs to escape.

She shakily pushes away from the table, mumbling something about a bathroom and, as fast as her legs can take her, runs up the stairs. She doesn’t know where she is, and can barely see two feet in front of her from tears clouding her vision. She’s sure if she checked, her mascara would be rolling down her face like rain but she can’t bear to look at herself right now. She’s ruined the meal, ruined Vanessa’s cover.

Brooke finds a room, one with a plush cushioned chair in the corner and a stack of classic novels balanced precariously on the uneven floor. She decides this is where she will stay, curling into the armchair like it’s one of the ones from home. Picking up the top book, she leafs through it, finding it’s one she’s read before but quickly becoming engrossed in the smell of old books and the Orwell’s words. The tears fall a little slower.

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t hear the hesitant knock on the door or the quiet footsteps across the room. She doesn’t notice a small body perch on the arm of her chair. In fact, Brooke doesn’t even notice the hand on her shoulder until she smells Vanessa’s perfume (sandalwood and pink grapefruit).

“What was that about?” asks Vanessa, quiet and cautious - like she’s afraid Brooke would break if she probed too hard. The taller girl shifts in the armchair, turns her body a little so she’s not quite facing her, but almost. She sighs as she sets the book down. “That question, the one about choosing to be a lesbian,” she closes her eyes a little as her voice falters. “It threw me a little I guess.” The Latina must pick up on the hidden baggage because she doesn’t ask any more questions, simply rubs small circles into Brooke’s left shoulder. “There was a guy, at my old school. Back in Canada. He- he wasn’t the best.” her voice breaks into shakey sobs, breathing ragged and hot onto Vanessa’s hand where she laid her head. It feels heavy, full of fluff and repressed emotions. She doesn’t like how quickly she’s fallen apart but the soothing hums of the other girl seem to be slowly putting her back together.

Once she deems herself a little more stable (or at least a little less likely to spontaneously burst into tears) she raises her head and looks at Vanessa. For the first time, she really looks into the warm chocolate of her eyes and feels overwhelmed by gratitude toward the smaller girl. “I haven’t exactly had the best reactions,” she mutters, low and gravely but still somehow comforting. Brooke smiles weakly, trying to convey all of her emotions into a fragile expression. Instead of continuing the conversation, Vanessa just kisses Brooke on the forehead. It’s like sunshine after a rainstorm, a little glimmer of hope in the shadows. It’s waxy and warm and definitely leaves a mark but Brooke leans into it a little. Both girls are unsure of where they stand with each other, the circumstances are uncharted territory and neither has a map.

“Thank you V,” says Brooke, she really means it. She is grateful to have someone who, even though they barely know her, will follow her and calm her down. “Anytime babe,” replies Vanessa, before leaning in a little. Brooke follows, eyes flicking between warm chocolate and fiery red. She closes the gap. If she was a little more cliché she’d say it felt like fireworks or coming home. She’s not, and instead, it feels like picnics and seaside days out - carousel ponies and hot summers. It is a whirlwind on her lips and she is sure they will tingle for days to come. Vanessa smirks into the kiss like she wanted it to happen all along. She tries to deepen it but the taller girl stands her ground, nibbling on her bottom lip a little before pulling away.

Brooke flushes, something akin to strawberries and summer, before tilting her head a little. “Why do I feel like we’ve done this a little backwards?” she jokes, pushing a strand of hair back behind Vanessa’s ear. She giggles a little, it’s melodic and Brooke might be a little smitten. “I really like you, Vanessa, do you want to go on a date with me?”

She doesn’t get an answer, only a kiss.

[valhallamercury]

bassist | boh rhap!john deacon x female!reader

Summary: Ever since you’ve met John, you’ve happily thrown yourself down the rabbit hole of falling in love with him. And honestly, how could you resist? He was kind, sweet, and not to mention handsome. Now the only problem: getting to go on a date with  A/N: The requested part two of secretary, so make sure you read that before reading this! This was so much fun to write, tell me if you’d guys would like a part three! :) Warnings: none, except that this is unedited.  Tag list: @lizgarxo @josephhmazzello @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl Word count: 1,994

After your first encounter with the dark-haired man, you had practically thrown yourself into a pit labeled “in love with John Richard Deacon.” Could anyone blame you though? Every time John came in with his friends to record their album, he always made sure to stop by and talk to you. He would tell you about the album and the boys, and you would tell him about how work was going and your pride and joy, which was your cat named Fleur. On bad days, he would make you smile. On some days, he brought you flowers, on others he brought you tea with compliments written on the cup. You dreamed of the day John would ask you out, and each day you would be let down when he didn’t. But you wouldn’t give up.

You sat at the front desk, organizing papers for Mr. Foster that needed to be done before noon. You checked the clock again. 10:34. You’ve got this, Y/N, why are you even worrying about it? You know you’ll have these done in 10 minutes, You thought to yourself. You knew the real reason behind your stress, though you wouldn’t admit it. You hadn’t seen John’s sunshine face in three days, making you worry that you had said something to upset him. A tap tap tap against your desk made your thoughts end. 

You looked up, seeing a familiar smiling face. You’re little sunshine was back. 

“John!” You exclaimed happily, his fond smile becoming contagious against your lips. “I haven’t seen you in a while, I was starting to worry something had happened.” You admitted, resting your head against the palm of your hand. Y/N, your papers, a voice in the back of your head nagged. You decided to ignore it. 

“No, no, I’m perfectly fine. Really. We’ve just been so busy with the album, haven’t had much time to chat.” He explained shyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

“Well, I’m glad to see your pretty face again. I’ve missed our little talks.” You smiled fondly at John, seeing his face light up to a bright pink color. It was a fun little game you liked to play: see how many times you could get John to blush. It definitely wasn’t one-sided though, for there were many occasions where Mr. Deacon had made your face go hot. 

“I’ve missed them too.” John returned your smile, leaning his elbows against your desk as he conversed with you. You could tell something was off though; he looked as though he was trying to tell you something, but just couldn’t find the words. Finally, he spoke again. 

“Hey, Y/N, I was wondering, what time do you get off?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was this finally your moment?

“I’m actually off tomorrow.” You replied, trying to remain ‘nonchalant sounding’ but you could tell that it hadn’t been too convincing. 

“Well, what a coincidence! The boys and I have a day off tomorrow as well from pumping out songs for the album,” His signature dorky smile and pink cheeks returned, “I was wondering... well, I was wondering since we’re both conveniently off, if maybe you’d like to hang out tomorrow. Like, well, a date.” 

It took all the strength in you not to jump up and down in excitement in that very moment. But, you controlled yourself. That didn’t stop the big smile stretching across your face though.

“I would love to go on a date with you tomorrow, Deaky.” You cooed. He grinned, a soft chuckle escaping through his lips. 

“Great! Great.” He coughed, trying to calm his enthusiasm. “There’s this great tea shop I know that we can meet at,” He began, pulling a sticky note from your desk and writing down the address of the shop. He handed it to you, a bright smile across his features. You happily took the sticky note, folding it up and putting it in your jacket pocket. 

“I’ll meet you there around 10-ish?” You asked, practically bubbling over with excitement. He nodded quickly, checking the time on his watch.

“I must be going, but I guess, I guess I’ll see you around?” He guessed giddily, slowly backing up as he walked backwards down the hall. You nodded, giving him a small wave. 

“See you tomorrow, Deaks.” 

He grinned, turning around completely as he ran down the hall. You watched him run, seeing him pump his fist up in delight. You saw his three friends come out from behind some furniture of the main lobby, congratulating him. You giggled behind your hand before looking back down at your paperwork once more. 

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

Tap, tap, tap, tap

You blended your base in with your fingers, making sure everything was smooth and even across your face. Even in the most stressful of times, doing makeup had always calmed your nerves. However, you couldn’t stop the butterflies fluttering across your stomach or the way your face would heat up at the thought of John and the date that was in less than an hour.

You tapped a soft powder across your face, setting the base. You smudged a shimmery eyeshadow across the lids of your eyes, brushed mascara through your top and bottom lashes, and ran a clear mascara through your brows to hold them down. You applied a thick clear gloss across your lips, swiping some off your skin when you went a bit over the lines. 

Now the only problem you were faced with: what to wear. Everything you tried on just seemed to either be too much or not enough. You finally decided on denim overalls that were embroidered with elegant pink flowers, a long-sleeved pink and red striped shirt, and red Chuck Taylor All Stars.

“How do I look?” You turned, looking at your cat Fleur, who laid sprawled out across the bed. She lifted her head up, letting out a soft meow, before laying back down. You took that as a sign of approval. 

You only had fifteen minutes or so to get to the tea shop, so you decided to head out early. 

You made your way through the bustling streets of Britain, before finally stopping in front of the quaint little shop. With five minutes to spare, might you add. 

You looked around before spotting John’s familiar long locks. The man had his head in a book, tapping his finger along to the beat of some song as he read. You smiled a bit to yourself, shaking his head. You walked over, standing in front of his booth. 

“Is this seat taken?” You asked playfully. John looked up at you, a fond look appearing across his face. 

“It’s all yours.” He joked back, making you giggle. You sat down across from him, crossing your ankles out of habit. Your Gran had made sure that you always remembered to cross your ankles, not your legs. That was the proper way to do it, you could practically hear her remark. 

“This place is lovely, the scenery is so quaint and cute.” You remarked, smiling as you looked around. The shop was decorated like some sort of Woodstock-esque design. There were posters of the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and many more artists. It had flowers of all sorts of varieties hanging from pots and vases across the store, giving it a lovely dash of color in all the right places. The room smelled of different variations of tea, all of which smelled exceptional. 

“Well, I remembered you telling me so much about how much you loved tea and flowers, so I thought this might be a good place to go.” He said softly, looking back at you shyly through his lashes. You felt your face heat up. No one you had ever been with had been this considerate. 

“You’re sweet, Johnny.” You smiled, resting your hand on your chin as you looked at the flower vase in front of you. “They really should switch the dandelions with those pink asters. The pink would compliment the goldenrods better.” You said, looking at the flowers in front of you. John raised his brows, but his smile never leaving.

“You really know your stuff, huh?”

You looked down at your feet for a moment, letting out a chuckle. “I guess you could say that. I’ve been wanting to be a florist since I was young because my Gran was a florist. She taught me all about different flowers and the way things would compliment each other and all sorts of things. My parents didn’t really think I should become a florist, they said there was no money in it and that people don’t buy flowers anymore.” You shrugged, looking back up at the dark-haired man who had been listening intently. “Besides, if I had been a florist, I would’ve never met you.” 

He smiled at you warmly, glancing at the vase. “Well, I think you should go for it. There’s no shame in trying.” He appealed, looking at you with his soft brown eyes that made you melt. “You’d be perfect at it. You have a cat named Fleur, for God’s sake.” He teased, a playful grin tugging at his lips. You giggled, rolling your eyes playfully and gently tapping his foot with your own. 

“Do not make fun of my cat, Deacon.” You scolded jokingly, a laugh escaping from the two of you. Once the laughter settled down, it was your turn to listen intently. “Well, since you know everything about me, why don’t you tell me things about you?” You asked, arching one of your brows. 

He raised a brow in return, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. “Well, what would you like to know?” 

You tapped your chin, thinking for a moment. “Favorite color? Favorite music artist? Hell, you haven’t even told me what instrument you play in your band.” 

“Well, my favorite color is black. Favorite musical artist? Probably Hendrix or the Beatles. And I play bass.” He spoke softly, looking into your eyes as he spoke. 

“That’s all?” You said as you looked at him, gently tapping his foot with your own. “C’mon, Deaks, there’s gotta be more to you than long hair and a pretty face.” 

His cheeks turned pink, tapping your foot with his in return. “Pretty face, huh?” He blushed, your feet now in an all right war with each other. “I was born August 19th,  1951. I have a band with my best mates, Freddie, Brian, and Roger. I like electronics. I love soul and funk music. I love to tinker. Doesn’t really matter with what, but I’m always fiddling with something around the studio. I also know that I’m on a date with the girl of my dreams and talking to her makes me nervous and giddy at the same time.” 

You felt your face heat up, you knew immediately you were giving the man heart-eyes. “You truly are wonderful, Deaky.” You smiled, reaching over and timidly placing your hand over his. He smiled, interlocking your fingers as he returned your fond gaze. 

You turned to face the window, seeing the rain pour down against the window. You took a deep breath, turning back to John with a sad gaze. “I should be going soon, before the rain gets any worse.” 

John frowned, glancing outside. “I’m not letting you walk home in the storm. It’s too awful.” He began, glancing down at your interlocked hands, before looking at you once more. His cheeks had turned an even deeper shade of pink. “My place isn’t far, if you’d like to stay there for the night. Only if you’d like though. Otherwise I could surely walk you home.” He added quickly, looking down at your hands. 

You smiled a bit at him, reaching over with your free hand and grabbing his other. He looked up at you, and you gave him a loving look. “What are we waiting for, Deaks? Let’s go.” 

[fortitude-sakura]

Noir [6/?]

AO3

Previous

“No.” Tenten says, snatching the eyeliner out of Sakura’s hands. “You look better without it. Here. Lots of this. I wish I had your eyelashes.”

Sakura rolls her eyes and takes the tube of mascara Tenten offers her. They’re in the midst of preparing for a night out. Tenten said that she had been invited by to Neji’s birthday and that she wanted some moral support. What that moral support would entail, neither of them knew but it was better than Tenten going alone and Sakura stewing at home watching reruns of Game of Thrones on a Saturday night.

Tenten has her hair up in the twin bun hairstyle she likes so much, her pretty upturned brown eyes accentuated with a flick of eyeliner and her full pouty lips a bitten cherry red. Sakura is envious of her roommate - Tenten had a seductive look to her that was easy and effortless. Tenten had pulled out a black oriental brocade dress that she had sewn herself - the silhouette was inspired by the traditional qipao, but Tenten had altered the design so that the dress was sleeveless, the hemline was (much) shorter, the split (indecently) higher than the traditional. Of course, Tenten understood her body and knew what she looked best in and only Tenten could get away with such a risque dress without looking like a hussy (as her mother liked to put it).   

Nonetheless, Sakura enjoys the primping even more than actually going out. She had read in a book that one should make themselves feel pretty or sexy everyday, starting with her underwear (of course, the author was French - and who better qualified to comment on lingerie than the French?). As such, every single undergarment she owned was made with the most gorgeous lace and satin and Sakura took a lot of pride in her collection. Today, she decides to wear her favourite set (one that featured exclusively ribbons of soft pink satin, just enough to cover her modesty and not much else) with a garter belt and thigh highs stockings. She picks out a deep red dress, just tight enough so show off her slender waist but keeping her arms and chest covered. The dress is just long enough so that her thigh high stockings don’t show.

“Red is definitely your colour.” Tenten nods in approval. “If I were that way inclined, I’d want a piece of you.”

Sakura giggles. “I could say the same for you. Let’s show Neji what he missed out on.”

It’s RnB Saturdays at Master Collins and Naruto can feel the deep beat in his chest. Hinata looks really pretty wearing that purple top and black shorts (and secretly he can’t wait to get them off her later). The bottle girl brings over some shots - vodka to start and he nudges Sasuke, the bastard, to take it.

“Come on! It’s your birthday. Oi Neji, you too!”

“I’d rather not spend another birthday face down in an alleyway.” Sasuke says, irritated.

Naruto and Neji snicker and Sasuke shoots them a venomous glare which makes Hinata hit him on the arm.

“What? It was funny, Hina-chan!”

It really had been hilarious. They were 21 at the time, fresh out of university and Naruto thought it a good idea to celebrate dear Sasuke-chan’s 21st at a club. Kiba had the decency to order a few rounds of ABC shots for them (before disappearing and buying shots for a group of girls) and Sasuke had almost thrown up on the girl that was crawling all over him that night. They found him later when he had made an escape from the club, face down in the alley, a pool of vomit next to him. The great Uchiha Sasuke, taken down by 5 ABC shots. Even his brother found it amusing when they finally hauled him back to his brother’s home.

“Besides, these are just vodka. Those ABCs shots are pretty lethal.” Naruto grins before knocking back his own. He nudges Sasuke a few times before he reluctantly takes the shot, Neji following suit.

“Oh! There’s Tenten!” Hinata says, standing up.

“Oi! Tenten! Up here!” Naruto calls out to Tenten and her friend, signalling them to come up to their private booth.

Between the strobe lights, music and adrenaline, Naruto doesn’t notice Neji or Sasuke tense.

The descriptor he used for Tenten had varied over the years. His memories of her are abundantly clear - sweet Tenten who shared her weird but yummy snacks with him, determined Tenten who refused to let her being a girl stop her from playing rough and tumble games with the boys, beautiful Tenten who danced with a kind of grace that seized his heart all those years ago.

This Tenten in front of him was no longer the girl he once knew. His eyes rake over her and the descriptors he used to use vanish from his brain. Instead they’re replaced by new words and his heart starts to beat faster.

He feels Sasuke beside him stiffen and he’s staring at Tenten’s pink haired friend like he’s about to devour her but at the same time he looks rather annoyed (which could be misconstrued as his default facial expression, but tonight he looks really annoyed). It didn’t help that the friend had a look of shock on her face, like prey.

“S-Sasuke?”

“Oh? You two know each other? What a small world!” Naruto says loudly over the music. “I’m Naruto, this is my fiance Hinata and that’s her cousin Neji. Thanks for coming! Come on sit down. I’ll get us more shots! Hina-chan, do you want one?”

Her friend introduces herself as Sakura as the shots arrive - an oddly appropriate name all things considered. The girls drag Hinata to the dance floor not long after (not that Hinata was unwilling, just a bit shy) and Naruto takes the chance to sidle up to him.

“So, you and Tenten have history don’t you?”

For an idiot as Sasuke likes to call him, he’s an awfully perceptive idiot.

“We were friends when we were in school.” he says, throwing back another shot.

“Yeah yeah. But you liked her, right? Don’t deny it, the tension was so thick in the room, it was suffocating. ” Naruto probes and Neji chooses not to dignify it with an answer, choosing to look down the balcony. Their private booth affords them a view of the dance floor and instead he watches the three girls dancing, laughing and singing along to the music.

“You know, Tenten’s friend looks really familiar.” Naruto ponders out loud, and before Neji can say anything, Sasuke shoves a shot at him.

Naruto takes it and downs it quickly and his eyes widen. Naruto after a couple of drinks is slower than usual - which is hilarious to Neji and Sasuke (if he wasn’t already passed out). You could see the cogs turning in his head and the proverbial light bulb light up in his eyes.

“She works for you!”

Neji looks at Naruto as if he’s lost his mind.

“What?” Sasuke snarls. If Sasuke was annoyed earlier, it’s nothing compared to how he looks now.

“That-that-that girl. Tenten’s friend! You had a picture of her! In a folder! At Ichiraku’s!”

Neji turns to Sasuke, an eyebrow quirked, asking for an explanation.

Instead, the only answer he gets is of Sasuke taking yet another shot before walking off in a huff.

What a small fucking world.

It's bad enough he'd had indecent dreams about his executive assistant. Now, seeing her here, in that red dress. It's too much for him to handle. Dream he could deal with because they weren’t real.

Not to mention the fact that Naruto actually fucking remembered her from that dossier he had stupidly brought out to lunch.

This wasn't his intention when he made her his EA, not in the slightest. She was annoying attractive. Annoying good at her job which made her even more attractive.

He spots her break away from Hinata and her friend to squeeze through the crowd. The shot he downs fires liquid adrenaline through his veins and he stands up to head down to the dance floor.

“Oi, teme! Where are you going?” he hears Naruto call but he ignores his best friend.

He grabs her hand before she turns the corner to the bathrooms.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses. It comes out a lot harsher than he intends but he feels the alcohol take over.

“I came because Tenten invited me.” she says evenly, unaffected by his tone of voice. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’m just here to support my friend.”

What does that even mean?

She scrutinizes his face for a moment and he can feel her eyes meet his, before travelling down his nose and to his lips. He feels his ears and the back of his neck heat up (it’s the alcohol, he swears). The dress she’s wearing is too short. His fingers could probably find their way underneath the hem to find...

“I need to go to the bathroom, Sasuke.” she says gently and it’s then he realises he has her hand in his. He lets go and watches her as she goes to the bathroom.

More alcohol, he decides against his better judgement.

Sakura had thought Hinata to be meek and an unwilling dancer but when Tenten suggested that the girls go dance, she had been surprisingly keen.  

The biggest surprise though was Sasuke’s presence here tonight. She had been worried for a flash second as she had only ever interacted with him in a working context. He had startled her on her way to the bathroom and had asked her what she was doing here. She had stayed calm - the few shots from earlier chasing away any nerves she would have felt completely sober.

His face had caught the strobe lights just so and she had traced his features with her eyes - his narrowed eyes, his straight nose down to his cupid’s bow and lips. The way he looked at her set her on fire and she had to remind herself that this was her boss and whatever the hell this feeling was, it was highly inappropriate and unprofessional.

She notices Neji staring at Tenten and smiles. And Tenten’s milking the hell out of it and making a show of it. She lets a couple of guys buy her drinks at the bar but not much more. She flashes a smile at them in thanks before walking away (and they’re too stunned by her willingness to walk away from them to do much more). She dances without inhibition and without care and she coaxes Sakura to do the same and Hinata follows suit and before long, she’s having so much fun that she forgets that her boss is at the same nightclub.

They take a break to play a few drinking games. Naruto acts as Hinata’s black knight and consequently takes almost half the shots because Hinata is so very bad at these games. Sasuke proves to be equally bad - subsequent shots making it even more likely for him to lose. Neji, Tenten and herself lose a few rounds themselves and feel the warm burn of tequila run down their throats as punishment. After all the shots are gone, Naruto drags Hinata down the dance floor again and disappears into the crowd.

Sakura decides some water would probably be wise to try and sober up a little and heads to the bar downstairs (the bottle girl from earlier was nowhere to be seen). She manages to squeeze herself in at the bar when the guy next to her turns to her.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

She recognises him to be a guy that had bought Tenten a drink earlier. To be honest, the stranger isn’t handsome enough to tempt her into accepting his offer. Unlike Tenten though, she wasn’t comfortable with accepting drinks from strangers knowing what the intention behind the drink was. She declines politely before asking the bartender for a jug of iced water.

By the time she gets back, Tenten’s gone.

“She went down to dance.” Neji says and he thanks her for bringing the water.

Sasuke manages to grumble something incoherent as he takes the water and leans back into the leather of the booth seat.

Neji doesn’t seem like much of a talker and she hardly knows what to say to her boss so she leaves them to join Tenten.

They dance and sing to a few old school RnB songs. Naruto and Hinata are nearby but they were in their own little world. Someone comes up behind Tenten to put their hands on her waist.

“What the-” Tenten turns around to see it was the stranger from bar again. She pushes his hands away. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asks. It’s not aggressive - more confused than anything.

“Hey Chun Li. I bought you a drink. I think you owe me a dance.” he says, pulling his hands on her waist again and pulling her towards him.

“Just because you offered to buy me a drink, doesn’t mean I owe you anything.” she says loudly, squirming out of his grasp.

Sakura sees that he’s clearly intoxicated and angry at Tenten’s rejection. He grabs her arm and Sakura worries that he’s hurting her. She tries to pull Tenten away by latching onto her waist.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” she snarls, trying to push him away. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Stay out of it, bitch! You think you’re too good for me, huh?” he slurs loudly, turning his attention to Sakura and grabbing her wrist with his other hand. “You know you’re lucky I even paid attention to you.”

“Let go!” Tenten yells but it only spurs him to hold on tighter.

“She said no.” a voice cuts in behind them and Sakura sees a hand push against the stranger’s chest hard, making him stumble backwards, letting go of them.

They turn to see Neji behind them, he appears calm but his eyes have a fiery determination that Sakura doesn’t think she’s seen all night.

“What’s it to you?” the stranger spits out petulantly, sizing up Neji. “Whatever, these sluts ain’t worth it.”

Before any of them can blind, a fist flies out hard and fast and it connects with the stranger’s jaw.

“Oi! Sasuke-teme! Comon’! He’s not worth it.”

All of a sudden she sees Naruto holding Sasuke back, Hinata’s hands are holding hers, Tenten is corralled behind Neji, who has arm in front of her protectively and a burly security guard approaching.

“Alright, all of you! Out! One more punch and I’ll call the cops.”

[okaystraykids-blog]

don’t go; it’s a mighty long fall

1 out of ??

Genre: fluff/angst/school ..

Seems like it’s going to turn out to be a hyunjin ff but we’ll see

WARNING: some mature themes

| the start of part one |

[Unknown Number]

야, 너 오는거야?

[Me]

uh... sorry?

[Unknown Number]

oh sorry! that was meant for a friend haha

[Me]

yeahh, i expected as much

[Unknown Number]

what's your name?

[Me]

a..

[Unknown Number]

ohh u dont wanna say... im changbin, are u from canada?

[Me]

uh yeah how'd u know?

SET "UNKNOWN NUMBER" AS CHANGBIN?

YES/NO

[Changbin]

kind of from the fact u apologized for me texting u

[Changbin]

i was born in korea but i'm actually living in a city called vancouver right now, im roommates with 8 other guys.

[Me]

uh, i actually live in vancouver too ... it would be funny if we went to the same school

[Changbin]

me and three of the guys are transferring to Thratmore for our senior year !

[Me]

ur fucking with me, right? that's where i go-

[Changbin]

well i'm looking forward to this, see u tomorrow

[Me]

perfect.

MESSAGE SEEN SUNDAY 11:00PM

God, I'm exhausted. I guess that's what I get for going to sleep at fricking 1:00 AM and waking up at 4:30. I didn't even want to wake up, I was dreading senior year. I hate school. I hate everything but hey, only 10 months left... I honestly don't want to put effort in, but I always felt the urge to look decent. Maybe I'll wake up and be a sexy beast one day and suddenly boys will be like hot damn, and i'll just get a boyfriend like poof.

Hah, sike. A bitch thought.

I went to my closet, and pulled out what I had planned for today, Blue mom jeans, a black cropped sweatshirt, and my combat boots. As I put on my clothes I remembered Changbin. At least he doesn't know what I look like...

My makeup was simple, my eyebrows, some mascara, a few dabs of deep pink lipstick, and highlighter. For breakfast I had my usual sunny side up egg on toast, and then I headed out. When I got to school it was already busy. Everyone was standing with their big groups of friends and I shook my head. 

How are they so happy.

Yeah, maybe I was just being petty because I lowkey wished I had friends but I also just hate myself so...

The first half of the day dragged on.. It felt hours. When it was finally lunch I immediately went upstairs with my food and sat at my usual table in the cafeteria. The room started filling up and the table beside mine that usually stayed empty, stayed empty for the next few minutes. I sat there, reading my book and snacking on peppers. Suddenly the room went silent and a group of four guys walked in. I could tell everyone was eyeing their clothes, the Off-white, Vétement, Gucci, and they screamed rich.

Great, more spoiled kids in this school.

But then I realized, oh my god, one of them must be Changbin. Of course he's a spoiled asshole! I shook my head slightly, and the sounds of the cafeteria slowly picked up again. The boys continued walking though, and I tried to focus on my book. When I noticed they were heading to the empty table next to mine, I didn't even look up. I just prayed they weren't going to sit there.

All of a sudden a deep voice made me jump,

"Hi, sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Changbin, that's Hyunjin, Jisung, and Chan."

My heart stopped, lord, these are beautiful people.

"Hi, nice to meet you." I said softly, and turned back to my book.

Sorry Changbin, I'm not looking for friends. I'm sure everybody in this school would love to be your pal. As I was turning, I caught the eye of one of the guys, he had beautiful lips, and he smiled softly.

Well shit.

Finally the day ended and I went home exhausted. Almost as soon as I flopped onto my bed for a nap, I got a message.

[Changbin]

i didn't see u today :(

[Me]

yeah oops!!

[Changbin]

do u wanna meet up tomorrow??

[Me]

uh probably not, imma be kinda busy i think.

Boy, just take a hint.

[Changbin]

awe ok... goodnight !!

The next day I had art first block and graphic arts second block, my two favorite classes! I walked into art. I didn't mind the people in art, mostly because everyone kind of just... minds their own business. I walked over to my corner I sat in last year and waited for people to show up. I waited and suddenly the boy who I thought had pretty lips walked in to the class. I expected him to go sit with the kids who have expensive clothes but to my surprise and maybe even dismay, he walked over and sat beside me.

"Hi, I'm Hyunjin!"

Why does my heart feel like this,

"I'm Alice..."

"How ar-"

The boy, Hyunjin, suddenly noticed I wasn't up to chatting and awkwardly grinned, silencing himself. The class went by surprisingly fast, usually the first few days are always boring.

When the bell rang I gathered my supplies and headed out the door... A hand on my shoulder caused me to flinch.

"S-sorry! I was just wondering what class you have now." Hyunjin yelped, letting go of me. I shook my head, ignoring him, and continued walking. I half expected him to stop following me but he ended up going with me all the way to graphic arts.

"Wow, what a coincidence." He chuckled, entering the class with me.

You have to be kidding me.

He didn't talk to me for the rest of class and I was low key thankful. Finally when it was lunch I escaped him and went up to my table, I was half hoping the four boys wouldn't come today. But as per usual, I was wrong and they entered. I looked up against my better judgement, and saw how good Changbin looked. I was captivated, though the sudden speaking of my name caused me to snap out of it. Hyunjin was at the table next to mine and he was sitting in the chair closest to mind, staring at me.

"Hey Alice, can we sit with you?"

| the end of part one |

TRANSLATIONS:

“야, 너 오는거야?”

MEANS

“Hey, are you coming?”

(Said informally to a younger person)

(A/N) uh hey as this story goes on it’ll evolve and we’ll see if its a hyunjin ff or changbin❤️ i made the boys all 18 for it to make sense that they’re all in school and grade 12.