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yuujispinkhair · 24 days ago

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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 10

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 14 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

SUKUNA'S POV

He doesn't know how he got into this mess.

Sukuna was never the type to develop feelings. All he ever knew was casual sex. Just a little meaningless fun with no strings attached. Hell, he always thought he was somehow the broken twin who wasn't even capable of falling in love!

But look at him now. He is lying in his bed, wide awake in the middle of the night, staring restlessly at his ceiling because he can't stop thinking about a certain someone. You were here a few hours ago, and Sukuna's pillow still smells like your perfume, and it's driving him fucking insane! He wishes you were still here in his bed, in his arms, your naked skin pressed against his, your fingers tracing his tattoos while you joke around with him and occasionally steal a kiss.

Fuck, he wishes you stayed the whole night again, and he could wake up with you snuggled tightly against him as if his arms are your favorite place in the world.

Sukuna likes it when you spend the whole night and stay for breakfast. It's something he feels he wouldn't mind at all if it happened every night. It's a thought that is so ridiculous that it makes him laugh a low, humorless laugh.

Itadori Sukuna always had his rules. Never get attached. Never stay the night. Never let someone get too close.

But he broke all of those rules for you.

He wants to have you here. All the time. He wants to hold you every night, wants to roll onto his side behind you, and wrap your smaller body in his big, warm embrace. He wants to wake up to your soft, sleepy smile. He wants to have sleepy, lazy morning sex with you that ends in both of you laughing and joking around, making him feel alive even before he has his first cup of coffee and his morning run. He wants to make pancakes for you and walk to class with you, maybe hold your hand while doing so.

Sukuna groans and sits up in his bed, the ruffled sheets pooling around his hips as he runs a shaky hand through his messy hair.

"What did you do to me, princess?"

He asks the empty room, huffing as he rubs his face. It's so ironic what is happening to him. Sukuna has the reputation of being a fuckboy and a heartless asshole who ends things the moment his little fling tries to stake a claim on him. The campus bad boy who only does one-night stands and casual, meaningless sex. The guy who broke so many hearts that he knows there are whole hate groups dedicated to him on Instagram and Facebook.

And now he is the one losing his sleep over someone. Now, he is the one yearning. And his fucking reputation is making things even more complicated because, seriously, how can he expect you to give him your heart when he is known for being such an asshole?

A grim laugh escapes his lips. It's no use lying here and trying to fall asleep with all that on his mind. Sukuna gets up and walks over to his window only in his boxer briefs, not bothering to put on any other clothes, even as he yanks open the window and the chill night air hits his naked chest.

Sukuna hums softly as he sits on the window sill and lights a cigarette, shielding it from the wind in the palm of his large hand. He takes a deep drag, letting his head fall back as his eyes close and the nicotine fills his senses. He exhales slowly, opening his eyes to watch the cigarette smoke vanishing in the cold air blowing in from the street.

Sukuna's gaze lands on his desk and the stack of history books he borrowed from the library. He sighs and grabs the one on the top of the stack, flipping it open, his eyes scanning the page, hoping to distract himself with the descriptions of some Heian-era rituals. A topic that usually manages to keep Sukuna's undivided attention for hours.

But tonight, the words he reads don't register in his brain. Sukuna's mind strays to the smell of your perfume and your beautiful loud laugh, the way you looked at him earlier when he was on top of you and fucked you slowly, your eyes so full of something he couldn't put into words, but it made him feel all strange and almost flustered, and he had to look away, and instead lean down to kiss you with deep tongue kisses to make you stop looking at him like that as if you could see right into his soul.

"Shit."

Sukuna closes the book and stares at the dark street below his window.

He is such a fool.

The thing is, Sukuna really tried to suppress his feelings for you. He distracted himself with hockey, going to the gym even more often than usual, and lifting weights even more aggressively. Hell, he voluntarily agreed to binge-watch trashy horror movies with his brother just so his mind would shut up about you.

And when all of that didn't work, Sukuna told himself he would just fuck someone else to cure himself of those strange ideas that were filling his mind. He went to one of the many parties he always gets invited to, looking for a casual hookup. But he couldn't do it. Even just talking to another girl, one of many who wanted to join the long list of Sukuna's puck bunnies, felt wrong. Seeing her smile at him and flirt with him, so desperate for his dick, made the hairs on his arms stand up in alarm. And when she had the audacity to try sitting on Sukuna's lap, he had practically bolted from his seat and left the party in a hurry without looking back.

He had grabbed a bottle of vodka on his way out and drank way too much of it while he was sitting alone in his room, feeling like the world's biggest asshole (and for once, he wasn't proud of it) just for contemplating fucking someone else. It made him feel dirty. Like a cheater! Even though he wasn't even in a relationship with you, and nothing had happened between him and that random girl.

Sukuna had known right then that he was utterly and completely fucked.

Itadori Sukuna, fuckboy extraordinaire, was no longer interested in casual sex with various partners. He wanted to put his dick only into one person. He didn't want any one-night stands or casual flings anymore because fuck it, none of them were you. He didn't want to touch anyone else or let them touch him! It felt wrong even thinking about it!

And that's where he is now. In love for the first time in his life, scared out of his mind, and absolutely at a loss at what to do about it.

This is new territory to Sukuna. He knows sex, but he doesn't know this! Sure yeah, he wants to fuck you 24/7, wants to fuck you so good the only thing you remember is his name and nothing else, but it's not just that. Sukuna wants to spend time with you outside of having sex.

He wants to sit in the library with you on your little study dates as he has begun to refer to them in his mind. He wants you to visit him in his dorm not just to fuck, but to sit on his kitchen counter and chat with him while Sukuna cooks for you. He wants to meet up with you for coffee at midnight, tell you about hockey tactics, and listen to you tell him about the current story you are writing, hoping that when you write a love story, you think about him.

He wants to see you at all his games, dedicating his goals to you and getting his good luck kiss the night before each game. He wants to see the worry in your eyes when he gets slammed into the boards, wants you to kiss his bruises and dote on him afterward.

All those things make Sukuna feel so strangely warm, even in the most chilly hockey arena. Even lying in bed with you snuggled into his side and watching hockey videos with you on his phone is something that makes him feel happier than he ever remembered being.

It's a mess. He is a mess! Sukuna, who is usually so in control and smart about everything, suddenly feels like the biggest fool because this is something he is completely unfamiliar with. It's terrifying!

All his life, Sukuna was quite literally the King of the Ice. Unfeeling, cold-hearted, not interested. He didn't let anyone in. Always wore his cocky smirk and arrogant attitude like a shield. But then you came along.

And ever since you sneaked your way into his life, Sukuna catches himself, letting his mask slip when he is with you. He catches himself smiling at you instead of his typical smirk. He catches himself laughing genuinely with you, unrestrained and free. He lets you come to his room and stay there as if you belong there. And he hopes you want to belong there. In his room, in his bed, in his arms. He hopes you want to be his just as badly as he is yours.

He doesn't know what got into him when he told you about his past. That's another of Sukuna's rules: He never talks about his past! He doesn't think anyone deserves to know the real Sukuna. They can have this version of him he wants them to see. The rough, bad boy, the star athlete, the fuckboy the arrogant asshole.

But somehow, you make him spill things he has never said out loud before. Hell, Sukuna even catches himself telling you stuff he never even said to his twin brother! His own flesh and blood!

You changed him, and it makes him feel naked like never before. Stripped of his carefully applied mask. Vulnerable.

But as scary as that is, it also feels strangely good. Sukuna feels comfortable with you. It's such a new experience. He can just be himself, and you like him anyway. He suspects you could already see through his mask even before he got careless and let it slip. You seem to be able to read him like one of your books. Sukuna prides himself on his analyzing skills, but he thinks you are really good at those things, too. At least when it comes to him. You never let him push you away with all the stupid shit he says. You seem to find him funny, laughing loudly about his dry humor and arrogant remarks.

You are so close to him. You are his friend. And yes, that's a big fucking deal!

For as long as Sukuna can remember, he has never made friends. His grandpa always told him and Yuuji to go outside and play with the other kids. "It's important to make friends. Look at me. I am old and lonely, and when I die, I am sure only you two brats will be at my funeral. Don't end up like me!"

But Sukuna, who had always been smart, strong, charismatic, and good at anything he started, found that he had failed at that one thing. He didn't know how to make friends. He had just bullied the other kids and pushed them off the slide or threatened to beat them up if they didn't give him the soccer stickers he was collecting. He had always known how to make people fear him, admire him, or a mix of both. But he had never made a friend. His only friend has always been his brother.

But you? You are his friend, and it blows Sukuna's mind.

It blows his mind how you sneaked your way into his life and into his heart. And now everything feels different. He feels different.

Being Itadori Sukuna used to be lonely. Yes, he is the star player of the ice hockey team and, therefore, one of the most popular guys on campus. But those are just superficial connections. None of those people know him for real. But it's not like Sukuna ever cared. He didn't mind being alone. He didn't like most people anyway! He didn't need anyone besides his brother!

But now? He likes you. And he likes spending time with you. He wants you in his life. He feels so much lighter when you are with him. He misses you when he hasn't seen you for half a day! It scares him how much he needs you.

"Ah, fuck!"

Sukuna groans and throws the thick book across his room, not feeling better, though, when it hits the wall with a loud thud and falls to the floor, where it lands next to his hockey bag. Sukuna stares unseeingly at it as he takes another deep drag from his cigarette.

He is fucking scared. Sukuna, who is never scared of anything. Sukuna, who looks every rival fearlessly in the eyes before he takes them down. But this... this thing with you...these feelings he suddenly feels. This is scary.

Why do people act as if love is easy? It fucking isn't! It means someone has power over you. Power to hurt you. Power to utterly destroy you.

Fuck. Sukuna never thought it would come to this, but he is beginning to regret his life choices. Because Sukuna knows his reputation, and he knows you know it, too. And the whole fuckbuddies thing he asked you to do is just more proof of the kind of guy he is. Why would you be willing to give your heart to someone like him?

He is about to spiral more when the door suddenly gets pushed open, and Yuuji stands in the doorway,

"What the fuck was that noise? Did you throw something?"

Sukuna huffs, flicking the cigarette butt out of his window as he jerks his chin challengingly towards his brother,

"Why are you even still awake, brat?"

Yuuji shrugs,

"I was re-watching Human Earthworm. But this is not about me! What's up with you? Why are you throwing your precious history books?"

The way Yuuji says it is what gets to Sukuna. The worry in his twin brother's voice. His wide honey-colored eyes trail searchingly over Sukuna, trying to find out what bothers him, trying to help him.

And suddenly, Sukuna doesn't care about keeping up appearances anymore. Fuck it, this is his twin. This is the brat who has been attached to his hip since they were born three minutes apart. The only person who ever saw Sukuna cry, when they were seven, and Yuuji had chickenpox, and Sukuna was convinced he would die, and it scared him so much that he sobbed like an idiot at his brother's bedside.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, looking away from his twin and out over the nightly street as he murmurs,

"I like her."

Yuuji makes a "Ha!" sound that sounds way too triumphant and then adds,

"Yeah, I know."

Sukuna's head whirls around, and he stares at his twin incredulously. But Yuuji just rolls his eyes and shrugs,

"Come on! It's obvious! I see how much time you spend with her and how you smile when she is with you! You let her sleep in your bed and invite her over for dinner! It's so cute how you act around her!"

"Shut up, brat! It's not..."

Sukuna doesn't get any further because Yuuji interrupts him, grinning broadly at him,

"You are both so cute! To me, it's like you already are boyfriend and girlfriend!"

And Sukuna's half-hearted denial gets stuck in his throat. He stares wide-eyed at his twin. Just hearing his brother say those words sends a surge of adrenaline through Sukuna. The same feeling that fills his veins before every game. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Fuck. It should sound scary, but it doesn't. It sounds good. It sounds like everything he wants.

Sukuna sighs, hiding his face in his large hands and rubbing it desperately.

"I don't know what to do. I don't want to fuck this up."

"You won't fuck it up, man. She likes you too, I am sure! Just tell her how you feel."

Sukuna says nothing but just huffs softly and stares unseeingly at the wall behind his brother. Yuuji makes it sound so easy. As if it isn't a huge deal. As if this isn't the first time that Sukuna has felt anything like this. He clicks his tongue, and his hands automatically grab his cigarette pack again. Long fingers with black painted nails pull out another cigarette, which he brings to his lips with shaky hands.

Sukuna lights it and takes a deep drag, waiting for the nicotine to fill his veins before he sends his twin a glare and rolls his eyes in annoyance,

"Just tell her how I feel? Tsk. Do you have any other super smartass advice, brat?"

Yuuji makes an incredulous noise, about to complain, but Sukuna stops him by sighing and then adding softly, without looking at Yuuji,

"What if she doesn't want me like that? Or what if I fuck everything up? It's not like I am boyfriend material. The whole campus knows that. With my reputation, it would be no wonder if she runs."

"Oh, shut up, idiot."

Sukuna hears the shuffling of feet and then confident footsteps so very similar to his own before he feels his twin brother's body push against him, joining Sukuna on the windowsill. Yuuji bumps against Sukuna's leg and reaches out to ruffle Sukuna's hair, reversing their roles for once.

"Look at me, Kuna."

Sukuna makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, but he sighs and turns to look at his brother, the hand holding the cigarette pressed lightly against his forehead.

Yuuji looks at him with that infuriatingly compassionate look in his honey-colored eyes, always treating Sukuna with so much kindness and genuine affection, whether he deserves it or not. Even Yuuji's voice is soft and gentle, understanding, when he tells Sukuna,

"You won't fuck it up. I know you are scared you will break her heart because that's all you ever did to girls. But it won't happen this time, Kuna. I know it. I know you. She is too important to you. And as tough as you like to act, you have a soft spot for the ones you love. Even if we are very few people. But if someone manages to break through your defense and find a way into your heart when you would do anything for that person. And she definitely broke through your defense."

Yuuji laughs good-naturedly and pokes Sukuna's chest with his index finger while he adds,

"It doesn't matter what you did before she came into your life. It doesn't matter that you used to think you would never fall in love. You changed. You have found your person. And that's all that matters. Not your past or what you used to think about relationships. All that matters is what you'll do from now on. And come on, my big brother is always the best at everything he does! So I know you will be an amazing boyfriend if you let yourself walk that path."

There's a lump in Sukuna's throat all of a sudden, and he gulps hard, feeling lightheaded somehow at hearing Yuuji say all those things. Sukuna does the only thing he knows to do in that situation and pats Yuuji's finger away, acting annoyed, even though he feels like he is overflowing with gratefulness for having such a good little brother.

Yuuji chuckles softly, patting Sukuna's hand away, too. His lips lift in a mischievous grin, a grin that is far too similar to the one Sukuna sees in the mirror. Sukuna steels himself for trouble right when Yuuji opens his mouth and adds in a sly tone,

"And if everything I just said wasn't enough to convince you, ask yourself how would you feel if she graduated and moved away and lived a life without you? How would you feel about that? Or if she starts dating another guy right in front of your eyes because you never told her how you feel, and she thinks you don't like her that way? How would that make you feel?"

And suddenly, blood is rushing in Sukuna's ears, and a vein is throbbing in his temple as he stares at his twin. Now that was a fucking eye-opener!

When that Gojo brat tried to hit on you, Sukuna saw red like never before in his life. The thought of seeing you with Gojo or any other guy makes him feel sick to his stomach. He doesn't want to lose you. He could never get over it if you dated someone else because Sukuna was too much of a coward to tell you he likes you.

You're his girl, and Sukuna is your boy, and anything else sounds like a cruel joke! And he realizes right fucking now that it's in his hands! The only way to make you hopefully stay with him is to be honest with you.

And yeah, that is a fucking scary thought. Opening up about his feelings, baring his heart to you on a silver platter, sounds like the scariest thing Sukuna ever did. But the thought of seeing you walk away because Sukuna wasn't man enough to tell you how he feels is scarier than walking up to you and dropping his mask and confessing how he feels.

Sukuna reaches out to clap his brother's broad shoulder appreciatively, wordlessly thanking him for the much-needed pep talk and advice.

He knows what he has to do now. Fuck it! He is Sukuna! He is the fucking King of the Ice! He is someone who laughs fear in the face and wrestles it to the ground, and works his ass off to get what he wants, no matter how big the challenge is!

He won't act like a scared little boy anymore! He will tell you how he feels!

"Hey, princess."

Sukuna walks up to you, where you are grabbing some books from your locker, looking far too pretty and sexy in the leggings and oversized sweatshirt you are wearing. You jump slightly at hearing his voice behind you. It's so fucking cute.

You turn around as Sukuna stops in front of you, looking up at him with big eyes and a little grin as you greet him.

Sukuna smirks at you as he reaches out to ruffle your hair, a move that always earns him the cutest little squeal from you and a half-joking, half-annoyed roll of your pretty eyes as you pat his hand away. But as always, you cannot stop the happy smile from spreading over your face. The smile that always makes Sukuna's heart feel a lot warmer.

He is so smitten it's embarrassing. But judging by the way you giggle and wrap your small hand around Sukuna's biceps, leaning closer so your face and tits press lightly against his arm while you smile up at him, Sukuna can easily pretend that you feel the same way about him.

Well, he will find out if he is right soon, won't he?

He walks you to your creative writing classroom, carrying your books for you while inwardly giving himself a pep talk, the same one he gives himself before every hockey game. You can do it! You will get anything you want! You will reach your goal. You are the fucking King of the Ice, man!

Sukuna stops in front of your creative writing classroom handing you your stack of books, his lips lifted in a lopsided grin as he cocks his head, silently applauding himself for how casual he manages to act even while his pulse is fluttering nervously and his muscles are all tensed up from how scared he is to fuck this up. But his voice comes out in his usual lazy drawl when he tells you,

"We have to work on your ice skating skills. Meet me at the arena tonight at ten."

You hug the books to your chest, tilting your head and blinking up at Sukuna with a little confused frown on your pretty face that he would love to kiss away right this fucking second.

"At ten? But is it even still open that late?"

"Let that be my problem, princess. So, are you coming?"

Sukuna shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, one eyebrow raised expectantly as he grins at you. If you say no, he will literally start pouting and use every ounce of charm he has in himself until you say yes.

But he doesn't have to worry. You laugh softly and nod,

"Of course, I'll be there."

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭💗💗 I had the time of my life writing this chapter from Sukuna's POV!! It always hits me right in the feels when I do that because it makes me feel so close to him.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and all the things that flow through Sukuna's mind. If you haven't already done it, please listen to "Novocaine" by The Band Camino because it describes Sukuna's turmoil perfectly. While working on this chapter, I listened to it on repeat, and also "Tequila" by Dan + Shay, because it also describes this YEARNING, I think. Oh god, I am so in love with him, it's not even funny anymore 😭😭

Sighhhhh, he really likes us, hm? 😵😍

In the next chapter, Reader will meet Sukuna at the ice hockey arena, but it's a bit more than just the private ice skating lesson that she expects.

Thank you so much for all the love you give this AU! It means the world to me and makes me so happy! I wish you all a Happy New Year! 💗💗

Reblogs and comments would be very sweet.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #sukuna #jjk x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #jjk fluff

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fayes-fics · 12 days ago

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Il Ballo del Doge

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU (threesome)

Summary: At the most exclusive event during Carnevale di Venezia, you find yourself sat between two irresistible, handsome brothers…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest. Modern AU with Regency masquerade roleplay. Sexual acts with strangers. Very light dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, praise kink, frottage, handjob through clothing. Mentions of cunnilingus, blow jobs, vaginal sex, exhibitionism, sex in front of a crowd.

Word Count: 3.7k

Author's note: An exercise to warm up my writing muse that spiralled into a dirty-talking threesome 🤷‍♀️😬 This is modern AU with the boys dressed in Regency masquerade ball garb. Fic title is the name of the most exclusive ball during Carnival. Thanks to @colettebronte for quickly wading through this utter filth. Err enjoy 🧡

Venice.

Carnivale.

A masquerade ball ripped from the pages of history - an opulent smorgasbord of cabaret, circus and epicurean feast, held in a sprawling Venetian palazzo. You are stunned as you arrive; grand architecture ablaze with countless fire torches, jugglers and semi-nude performers under heavy garlands of flowers and vines while champagne overflows into towers of coupe glasses: a modern bacchanalian celebration, a luxurious escape for the rich and connected.

You have saved for years to be here - a once-in-a-lifetime trip. This ball is one night of fantasy and sensual indulgence. Detached from reality, you are plunged into another world behind a Columbina demi mask and elaborate costume picked from an atelier.

So when you find yourself sitting for the banquet between two tall, broad-shouldered, strong-jawed men with aristocratic British accents a few hours into the event, it feels enthralling to flirt with them both. The over-the-top theatricality of the setting and the masks you all wear lend an air of anonymity that makes you unusually daring. They are dressed sharply in full Regency garb, a cut that emphasises their appealing physicality. One of them leans in close as you finish the final course of the night; the meal has been a perfect symphony of flavour building upon the last dish.

“Pray tell, my fair lady, what do you wish for tonight?”

“A night I will never forget.”

Your response is truthful but intentionally enigmatic, craning to whisper into his neck, inhaling his delicious, unique, custom-blended aftershave.

“May I assist with that?” He proposes, intent evident from the tone he invokes.

“Perhaps….” You coquette, revelling in the delicious array of possibilities before throwing down a daring gauntlet: “Can you promise to be memorable?”

He huffs a throaty laugh.

“I most certainly hope I can. But safety in numbers may be most prudent to ensure it. Perhaps my brother can assist in such endeavours?”

He nods to the man sitting on your other side, who turns towards you, smile crooked under his demi mask.

“I am seated between two brothers?!”

“A Viscount and a renowned artist, no less,” the first man crows, a self-assurance there that speaks volumes to the veracity of his claim. And you can well believe it. Events such as this exclusive ball are the playground of the elite, after all.

“Which of you is the Viscount, and who is the artist?” You query, your gaze moving from one to the other and back again.

The other man leans in. “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? And where is the fun in that?” He hums, his breath ghosting through the tendrils of hair around the ribbon ties of your mask.

“I am Ant, and my brother here is Ben,” the first man explains, “and that is all you need to know.”

You offer your name before tilting your chin to the stage before you. “The evening's entertainment is about to recommence, though, gentlemen.”

“You will not need to miss a thing,” Ben answers blithely. “We can give you an experience like no other without you even having to leave the very chair you sit in.”

You can’t help the bubble of sceptical laughter at that bold statement. “How?”

“We will talk you through pleasure,” Ant intones, his voice dripping with a confidence that is skating the edges of arrogance. “We will not even need to touch you. In fact, I rather like the onus that we will not.”

You pull an incredulous face. “I’d like to see you try…”

“Oh, my fair lady, that attitude is just a red rag to the proverbial bull,” Ant cautions, voice like smooth velvet sliding over your skin.

Part of you wants to scoff and walk away, part of you wants to be stubborn and prove them wrong, but the biggest part of you, from your neck downwards really, wants them to do just that. Bring you pleasure. Here in public. In this loud, raucous, decadent room filled with hundreds of people.

“Go right ahead gentlemen,” you challenge, your tongue deciding for you as you raise an eyebrow to them each in turn.

Ant reaches around behind him and produces a long, black, polished walking cane. “Fortuitously, this came as a part of my costume,” he offers before pausing a beat to employ a clipped, brusque tone: “Open your legs.”

To your own astonishment, you obey reflexively. With a smirk, Ant slides the cane between your legs, still covered in voluminous skirt layers. He hooks its tip through the foot rung in your chair, then leans its ornate filigree round handle against the dining table in front of you. He rearranges the heavy tablecloth over it and around your lap to completely conceal the cane’s presence.

“Something for you to pleasure yourself against, subtly, of course,” Ant breezes as your head whips to look at him, startled by his matter-of-fact suggestion.

“Do not concern yourself,” Ben reassures. “There is far too much noise and distraction in this vast room for others to know or frankly care. Their attention will also be diverted to the stage and the performers. That is, if they are not themselves being pleasured. There are as many people to be found under these tables as people sitting around them, especially by the end of the night,” his opinion sounding very much based on experience rather than conjecture.

“Shuffle forward in your chair,” Ant encourages, and again you find yourself doing his bidding. The many layers of your costume scrunch between your legs as you close your thighs around the thin cane, a throb already in your silken underwear at how daring this is, allowing two virtual strangers to do this to you.

“Perfect,” Ben compliments just as the music pipes up loudly and a troupe of dancers take to the stage.

Ant places two napkins on the table before you.

“If either of us says or does something that you do not like, pick up the serviette closest to that person, and we shall desist,” he explains, a surge of pleasure that you are being given all the power to direct their behaviour.

“Men of honour,” you comment, impressed, as both men subtly shift their chairs closer, turning into your body slightly.

“We are gentlemen.”

“It is a privilege for us to do this.”

A spike of lust races through you at their dulcet tones, so close up now.

“And what should I do if I like what you are doing? For you not to desist?”

You feel more than see the matching smiles on either side of your face.

“Oh, believe me, we shall know…” Ben chuckles richly, “and we will keep doing so until you are satisfied.”

Something in that smoky promise makes your pulse all over, and you swallow heavily, a flush creeping over you at their proximity. You can tell no one is paying the three of you any heed, though, with all attention around you glued to the magnificent performers.

“You may touch us anywhere you wish,” Ant tempts, knowing your eyes have flitted down to the fit of their costumes a few times already, expensive wool wrapped tight around shapely thighs.

“But it doesn’t matter how much you beg; we shall not touch you,” Ben adds teasingly.

You bite your lip, already squirming in your cushioned seat. The tautness of the fabric between your legs due to the cane there has your clit swelling.

“Now, I rather suspect this fair lady likes a mental picture to be painted…” Ben begins.

“I think you might be right, brother,” Ant concurs. " You are the expert in such matters, after all.”

“So you must be the Viscount…” you crow, almost triumphant, turning fractionally towards Ant.

“Well, aren't you the clever girl?” he hums; that choice of words has a curl of heat unfurling in your gut.

“Of course she is,” Ben cuts in. “If there is one thing we can tell, it’s that you are an independent, smart woman. Who else would travel to Venice and attend such an event all alone? And yet… and yet…. secretly what you crave, what you would never admit to, is just how wet it gets you to be praised and told you are such a good girl, hmmm?”

You exhale shakily, slightly unnerved that he has been able to hit the bullseye so readily but so thrilled for the endless delicious prospects this could portend.

“But how good of a girl can she really be when what she most wants is for us to fuck her right here in public?” Ant piles in; his use of that phrase has you inhaling sharply, taken aback at how quickly it has escalated.

“Don't pretend you don't want that,” Ben clucks. “Your perfect little clit is throbbing right now at the idea, isn't it? Picturing these crowds of people watching, salivating and wishing it were them inside you. Watching as you claw at this table and take us both in turn….”

You are indeed clutching the side of the table already, nails digging into the wood through the cloth, breath stolen by just how explicit they are being. And yet, as promised, they do not lay a finger on you except the press of their clothed thighs against yours where they surround you on both sides. You rock further forward in your chair without even realising, needing to feel that hard rod against your slit, the relief that pushing yourself against it will bring.

“I rather think you would demand our tongues first, though,” Ant remarks casually.

“Oh, I wouldn't doubt it,” Ben agrees. “For us to throw your legs over our shoulders and feast upon you. Run our tongues over and over until you are shivering and pulling our hair, directing us just where you want us. I suspect you are the type who wants to taste yourself in the mouth of those who pleasure you. For them to kiss you with their tongue thick with your arousal, face glazed with your juices.”

You are breathing ragged, honestly spellbound by their ability.

“And I bet you taste delicious. Like ripe berries, sweet but tart,” Ant contends. “A flavour that bursts on the tongue like a fine wine.”

He reaches for his glass and waits for you to watch him take an indulgent sip, the bob of his Adam’s Apple as he swallows. But he allows a drop to escape around the corner of his mouth dribbling a line that you track covetously, tongue feeling heavy, wanting to lick it from his hint of chin stubble.

“Remember, you can touch. That includes with your tongue, sweet girl,” he goads before using the pad of his thumb to wipe away that tempting trickle provocatively.

You can’t help the light moan that escapes your lips, grinding against the pole he has placed between your legs; the spike of pleasure it causes as it crushes your clit has you shuddering.

“That’s it,” Ben gusts. “Treat that swollen little pearl just a little rough. I bet all those layers of fabric are just adding to the exquisite ache….”

His hand lands on the table next to yours, not touching but close enough that you can see how long and shapely his fingers are compared to your own. He swirls his pointer and middle finger slowly on the tablecloth in a circular motion. An intentional tease that you stare at, your hips somehow syncopating with the speed of his movements, imagining that very hand buried between your thighs.

“That’s it,” he repeats, “not too fast, not too slow.”

“Just enough to make you reckless with need,” Ant interjects. “You would do anything we told you to if we got you to that sweet spot, wouldn’t you?”

You nod without even realising it.

“Oh, I know it,” Ant gloats. “I would tease you for so long you forget your own name. Clit so swollen you can’t cross your legs. Begging and pleading for relief…”

These men use words like finely-honed weapons. Each phrase is seemingly expertly designed to take you apart at the seams. Your hands splay out on the table, and you grab each of theirs, clutching the back of their knuckles into your palm as you rub yourself shamelessly.

“You get the prettiest flush when you’re aroused,” Ben whispers, his eyes flitting down to your décolletage. “I wonder how far it goes? Does it keep going all the way to those pretty, puffy lips that are wrapped around that cane right now?”

The way he says it conjures the thought of your mouth wrapped around a cock; in no doubt that both of theirs are likely sizeable.

“I know what you’re thinking of,” Ant murmurs darkly as you keep writhing, a bead of sweat running down your spine into your underwear. “I know you are a dirty little thing who loves to be on your knees as well. I can tell how much you love the power. Having a man vulnerable in your mouth. Their rapt attention begging you to suck a little harder, a little deeper.”

“She loves to tease,” Ben surmises as they lean in closer, both lips dusting the shell of your ear. “Little strands of saliva roping from your lips as you pull off and look up goadingly through your lashes. You love to feel the tremble of thighs under your palms, don’t you? That feeling when your lips are all swollen and your cheeks aching from all that sucking. But most of all, you love to have a man come undone in your mouth. To swallow every drop you have earned…”

You are panting openly, harshly, your mouth filled with saliva as you imagine how tasty they likely are, a sweetness that makes it pleasant, addictive almost. A yearning for either to stand up, unzip right now and offer you their cock to suck upon. All around you, lights swirl, and the music swells louder, obscuring what is happening at this table. The most risqué you have ever behaved, wantonly frottaging yourself as two strangers, albeit handsome refined gentlemen, spout utter filth.

“Tell me how you’d fuck me,” you demand, gasping, rhythmically crushing your throbbing clit, wanting to come so bad your skin itches.

“I’d go first,” Ben huffs, his breathing uneven now too. “You’re already dripping down to your knees from our tongues; you can take me, can’t you, sweet girl?”

Again, you find yourself nodding; your lip darkened from your incisor tooth snagging upon it.

“I think what you might enjoy is being face down,” he rumbles dangerously. “So you can’t see everyone watching you at first. Just hear their shocked but approving noises. Your forehead on this tablecloth as I place a hand on your spine to quell your quivering from behind. Drag your hips over this table and plough right into your weeping little cunt.”

That word is the catalyst. You can no longer hold back. Your hands fly into both of their laps and grab their thighs forcefully, loving the feel of warm, latent muscle as your fingers curl into their quads.

“Oh, you like that…” Ant assesses correctly.

You hiss your assent as Ben continues.

“You are so perfect for me, aren’t you? Such a pretty pussy, all swollen and puffy and soaked as I split you open. I’m not going to go slow because that’s not what you want, is it? You want sharp thrusts, your toes leaving the ground with each snap, pressed hard into the table, your nipples rubbing just a little raw inside your corset. You want your entire body to jerk with each thrust, clit catching the table edge….”

Your responding yes is sibilant, as all around you, the frenzy of entertainment continues, spotlights swirling, performers contorting themselves in a seeming match for your fever.

“You want my hands clamped on your hips, tugging you back into my cock. Curled over you and praising how well you take it and what a good girl you are for me and for letting everyone watch. You feel so divine, squeezing my cock so tight that my eyes roll. Butttt…” he rolls that last letter in his mouth as if a tasty treat, his hand flexing on the table. “My poor sweet thing, just as you are babbling, clawing and moaning so beautifully, drooling onto this cloth right here, I'm going to pull out and leave you wanting, for we are not ready to have you come again. Not yet, my sweet girl. We want you mindless, to build you up so many times over that you are aching. The reward will be so much sweeter for you in the end that way, won't it?”

No one has ever talked to you in such precise, poetic detail before. Your hands grasp their thighs roughly, but they maintain their promise, even as you see the mutinous desire in the flex of their bodies, a muzzled yen to touch you back. It makes you need them more, how much control they can exert despite wanting the opposite. You are shameless in your motions now, pushing yourself towards that high; part of you wishes to plunge your fingers into yourself, and part of you wants to see if you can orgasm untouched, coming undone with just their words and friction.

“Don't stop,” Ant gasps. “Make yourself come, sweet girl.”

“I want to grab both of your cocks,” you confess rapidly, the truth tumbling from your lips as you ratchet higher.

“Do it…” Ant dares you, as out the corner of your eye you can see his are glittering darkly, pupils blown.

They both growl as you twist your wrists and slide your hands greedily up their laps, shamelessly palming their erections, straining against their trousers under the table. The heat and mass of them both has your pussy quivering, knowing from this touch alone just how satisfied you would be to feel either or, ideally, both of them fuck you. Their grip on the table has their knuckles turning white as Ant speaks anew, a tinge of desperation in his words that has you gleeful.

“My brother has had a little of his fun; now it's my turn. And I think you are ready to see all those gathered around you, even those onstage gazing down upon you. So I am going to flip you over, my sweet girl. Place your ankles upon my shoulders, that drenched little slit ruining my trousers before I tug open my fly and take you too. How prettily you howl my name as I slide into you. This sturdy table is going to squeak, isn't it? You are such a demanding thing, ordering me to fuck you harder, your hands clawing at my jacket, your heels clicking together behind my head. Perhaps my brother needs to be on the other side of the table, holding your shoulders down so all can see. Maybe even ripping open your dress, your beautiful breasts bouncing with each thrust I take, my good girl. You want this and so much more, don’t you? For me to fuck you endlessly right here, right now….”

And it's true. You yearn for what they promise. For them to bury their tongues between your thighs, for you to be on your knees before them, sucking the very life out of their cocks. For them to throw you onto this same table and fuck you so hard and thoroughly, you leave fingernail marks on the wood. To have the whole crowd watch as you near peak after peak until you are a swollen, fucked-out mess. Craving nothing but more, another orgasm, that mind-blowing pleasure that makes you soar high above as well as stay rooted so deep in your body you feel a weight in your bone that is pure rapture.

And just like that, you are breaking, burying your face into Ant’s neck as you wrap an arm around Ben’s. Shuddering violently as you crest that edge, febrile pleasure breaking over your skin, each cell of your body seeming to snap taut and then relax into waves of bliss, floating somewhere high above the sparkling chandeliers that hang from each beam. Dimly, you hear them murmuring your praises, but it's muffled by the rush of blood in your head. It seems to last forever, jerking and spasming against that cane, wanting instead to feel their weight on top of you, their cocks spurting deep within you as you reach that peak in harmony. When you come back to yourself, you realise your hands are still unconsciously squeezing their cocks through their clothing, and suddenly you snatch your hands from their laps.

“Don’t you dare come,” you snarl, as they groan enchantingly, so close and yet denied at the very last moment.

“Why?” Ant puffs, a vein on his forehead pulsing beguilingly.

“Because I need you to fuck me…” you grit out between your teeth. “Both of you,” you add, addressing Ben, his whole body quaking as you utter it.

Even though your knees feel like jelly, you push back your chair, the cane clattering to the floor and rolling under the table, forgotten, as you stand up and grab their hands, hauling them from their seats. You are uncaring if anyone stares at you, costumes dishevelled and askew, as you march towards the exit. Neither resists as you tug them out of the ballroom, down the long grand stairwell and outside to the gondolas lined up on the dock, ready to ferry people back to their hotels.

“I have one requirement…” you practically bark as you push them both down onto a seat, twisting to name your hotel to the gondolier behind you, his smirk unmistakable.

“Which is…?” Ant prompts, staring up at you as you tower over them, your eyes drawn inexorably to the unmistakable outline still nestled in both of their trousers.

You take a seat on the bench opposite them in the narrow boat. Wordlessly pulling up your layers of skirt and peeling down your ruined underwear, tossing them into the canal as they stare covetously, likely catching a glimpse between your legs before you roll your skirt back down.

“You had both better fucking touch me...” you finally reply.

They throw their heads back and laugh heartily, twisting to look at each other briefly, seeming to communicate silently before their gazes land back on you, almost predatory.

“You can bloody count on it,” they growl in unison.

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Anthony & Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23

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alba1221141 · 27 days ago

Text

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

Arcane High school AU Jinx x female!reader

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

"You got the stuff?"

"Yes, dumbass, when do I not?" My hand dives into my pocket. Out comes the 5g of Mary Jane.

"Now this? This is quality. High-end." I waggle the bag. "Don't waste it. Got it?"

Today's buyer nods. He's a boy, tall enough, with the kind of face that might make him passable to get with. He's definitely, probably, bought the weed hoping to get into some druggie girl's pants.

"$20." I hold my hand out.

Cue the grumbling. Expletives.

But hey, there it is—the crisp twenty, right in my palm.

"Pleasure doing business with ya!" I grin, pocketing the money as the boy walks away with a newfound swagger in his step.

Dealing’s not hard—not for me, at least. Dear old Dad supplies the goods: weed, ecstasy, coke, sometimes mushrooms. I supply the school. Easy. Weed’s the favorite, though. Always weed.

Then—ugh. That sound.

Click. Click.

Mary Janes.

I grimace.

And there she is. Little Miss Expert Saboteur. Brows furrowed. Lips tight. Clipboard ready.

"Ah, toots." I peel myself off the wall, sauntering over. "Come to ruin my fun again?"

"Dealing contraband is forbidden on school grounds," Y/N has to push the words out It looks like it hurts her to even utter the word contraband.

I clutch my chest, gasp. "Oh no! A crime! A horrific, terrible crime!" I stagger back, mocking it up real big. "Lock me away forever, toots!"

Nothing. Not even a smirk.

She scribbles on that stupid clipboard, eyes all slitty.

"Ohhh, I see how it is," I sneer, stepping closer. "Writing me up, huh?"

"Knock it off, Jinx," she snaps.

I raise my hands. Innocent. Halo practically glowing. "What? I didn’t mean to offend Little Miss Brown Nose."

Clipboard. Thrown. Smack.

And she’s off. Stiff-backed. Nose high.

I pick up the clipboard. Flip it open.

"Jinx, dealing pot on school grounds again. Issue: week detention."

I snort. Same old crap. She’s such a kiss ass.

Me and her? History. Friends once. Used to be. Past tense. Before she became this tight-ass snob. Okay, fine—maybe part of it’s on me. Messed-up kid. Scary. Whatever. But the kicker? Silco takes me in, and just like that—childhood, fairy tales, besties—splat.

I chuck the clipboard into the trash and light it up.

Flick. Flame.

The fire snaps to life, chomping through her pathetic little notes like it’s starving.

I watch, arms folded, leaning back, enjoying the show. A grin creeps onto my face, sharp and hungry.

The flames crackle, roaring as they climb up the sides of the trash can. The heat bites at my skin, but I don't flinch.

And then—BOOM.

The trash can goes off like a cheap firecracker, bursting with a loud pop. I grin at the sight.

Her precious clipboard? Allllll gone.

"Oopsie,"

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

Y/N

Gosh, gosh, gosh!

She just has to mess up everything all the time. And she just had to keep the clipboard, god knows what shes done to it, probably discovered a way to it into some kind of powder to snort.

And why on earth did she have to taint the school with her sketchy little deals, is it that hard to refrain from drug dealing on school property, apparently for Jinx its a severe struggle.

Gosh and to think i'd once associated myself with her, well... she was different then, less... deranged. She was Powder, but anyone with half a braincell could see the foundations of Jinx, the outbursts, the meltdowns... it was only a matter of time before she cracked... i just wished it was later rather than sooner i just wanted more time.

I slam the locker shut, hard enough to make it rattle. Ugh, why was I even thinking about her? Like, seriously, what is wrong with me? A fixation? Gross. Absolutely disgusting. I yank at the buttons on my shirt, finally grabbing my cheerleading top and shimmying into it.

"Whats going on with you today?" Mel nudges me making me jump. “You missed Caitlyn’s romantic musings. Again. Which as trivial as they are you seem to love.”

Caitlyn huffs, "They're not trivial... just why cupcake why does she persist with that damn name, but that's beside the point... what's going on with you, you've been blanking out."

"No, no, I'm fine, probably PMSing is all." I deflect leaning against the locker.

Mel, Caitlyn, and I have been tight since freshman year. Well, me and Caitlyn long before that. Her parents—the Kirammans—are, like, dripping in generational wealth. Private tutors, fancy everything, the whole deal. Then, because Caitlyn absolutely insisted, they finally caved and let her go to public school.

After the whole disaster with Pow—no, Jinx—we kind of just... found each other. Both of us needed normal, and we’ve been best friends ever since.

Mel's a senior, a year above us, but when we showed up at Piltover Community three years ago, she just... adopted us to put it simply. She’s a Medarda—her family owns part of the trust that funds the school. Everyone kisses her feet. Head of student council, Model UN, you name it.

Cheerleading practice goes by without anymore qualms until... Water’s spraying from the celling everywhere, that damn beeping piercing everyone's ears — the fire alarm. It’s not a drill. Cait and I would've been told, Mel would've given us the heads up.

But I know exactly who it is. Blue braids trailing behind a certain figure slipping out of the gym. She spots me instantly, turns around, and—the audacity—winks at me.

Jinx

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: hey this is my first fanfiction on Tumblr, hope you like it :) please like and reblog!

#arcane #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramman #ekko #caitvi #ekko league of legends #ekko lol #jinx league of legends #jinx lol #jinx x reader #jinx #jinx arcane #jinx smut #jinx x y/n #jinx x you #powder #powder arcane #ekko arcane #timebomb

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libraryofgage · 1 year ago

Text

Life in Miniature (One)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedediah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One (you're here!)

There will be more Jedtavius in the next parts I promise, I just thought this would be a funner introduction to the AU lmao

I just love those little guy dudes from the museum so much hfjdks and now we get two pairs of them

Also, fun fact, I took Steve's Roman name from, like, an actual king of Rome. The actual sixth king. He seemed like a chill dude.

Anyway, there's a meme at the end and as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

---------

When Robin took this job as a night guard, she didn't think the previous guard's words about history coming to life at night was, you know, real. She thought it was a joke, a predictable and corny joke, but a joke nonetheless.

But now, after being chased by a T-Rex, getting saved by Theodore Roosevelt, and almost being taken captive by fucking Attila the Hun, Robin thinks this job definitely isn't worth $16.50 an hour. Then again, this is the best paying job she's had in a while, and she was living a nocturnal life anyway.

Robin groans, leaning against a wall in the diorama exhibit, and slides down to the floor. She lets her head fall back against the wall, her eyes slipping shut as she slides. "This is crazy. This is insane. I need to find a fucking weapon or something," she mutters.

"Pardon me," comes a voice close to her head, "but might you be the goddess Diana?"

As pick-up lines go, it's not the worst one she's heard. And, based on what she knows of Greek and Roman deities, it wouldn't be too far off. Still, she does not want to be hit on by whatever weird historical thing is trying to flirt with her.

Robin takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and says, "Do I look like a goddess to you?"

She looks to her left where the voice came from, blinking when her gaze falls on a figurine that would barely reach her ankle. He's dressed in a toga with a chest plate, wrist guards, a sword on his waist, and a deep purple cape over his shoulders. His hair is, honestly, the most impressive thing Robin has ever seen, made only more impressive by the golden laurels resting perfectly against his temples.

He's looking at her with wide eyes, more awed than anything else. "Yes," he says. "I have heard the gods are larger than life."

Okay. Fair.

"Why Diana, man?" Robin asks.

He tilts his head, studying her for a moment, looking her up and down. "You give me the same feeling as statues of Noble Diana with her Huntresses," he explains, pausing for a moment before adding, "A feeling of kinship, perhaps?"

Oh. This...this is like ancient Roman gaydar, right? Robin snorts and turns, resting her elbow on her knee. "I'm definitely not Diana. My name is Robin. I'm the new night guard."

His eyes brighten some, his smile growing wider and certainly charming enough to make the hearts of a few girls and guys flutter. "I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army."

Robin nods, letting all of the those words process in her head before saying, "Mind if I call you Steve? You look like a Steve."

The Sixth King of Rome blinks, looking slightly confused before his eyes light up with understanding. "Ah! A nickname! Yes, I am familiar with this concept. You may call me Steve, Lady Robin, as a show of our newfound friendship."

"Yeah, don't call me Lady Robin. Just Robin is fine," she says, hesitating before offering her hand to Steve.

"As you wish, Just Robin," he says, stepping carefully onto her hand and remaining steady as she raises him higher.

Robin blinks, frowning slightly and about to correct him again when she sees his smile and realizes it's a joke. "Okay, very funny, dingus," she says, carefully poking his side.

"Is dingus another nickname? It sounds like an insult."

"It usually is, but it's affectionate when I say it."

"Oh! Yes, like when Ockie calls Jed a philistine."

"Uh, sure," Robin says, nodding once as she lets Steve move to stand on her shoulder. He quickly sits, holding onto the collar of her jacket as she carefully stands up. "Hey, you know what I'm supposed to do about the dinosaur bones?"

"Rexy? Yes, he enjoys a game of fetch."

"Fetch. Of course."

----------

"What's going on in that head of yours, little man?"

Steve blinks, looks over at Jedediah, and raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm taller than you," he says, gesturing to the good inch he has on Jedediah.

"As long as you're my son, you're a little man."

Doing his best to not laugh, Steve nods once and points to the new diorama set up in the middle of the room. It's a circular diorama, centered on an equally circular stage divided into sections. A cacophony of noise echoes from it, clashing as each slice of the stage fights for dominance. "I'm trying to figure out what in Jupiter's name they're doing over there," he says.

"Well, most of it sounds like music," Jedediah says, "I think."

"It's not any music I've heard before," Octavius says, coming to a stop next to Jedediah and frowning at the diorama. "I would have assumed it the unholy shrieking of the damned."

"Perhaps it would be nicer if they weren't all playing at once," Steve suggests, hands on his hips as he tilts his head.

"Oh, boy, there it is," Jedediah says, his grin audible in his tone. "He's got the King Face."

"What are your intentions, my boy?" Octavius asks.

Before Steve can answer, Robin strolls into the room, grinning when she sees the raving diorama in the middle. She walks over to Steve, Jedediah, and Octavius, crouches down, and says, "Hey, guys. I see you're checking out the History of Rock display."

"History of Rock?" Steve asks.

"What in the sweet hell do rocks have to do with that mess?" Jedediah asks, gesturing to the noisy stage.

Robin rolls her eyes. "No, like, rock music. It's a genre. Anyway, it was sponsored by some musician, so it's a permanent display now."

"And they will be...playing every night?" Octavius asks.

"Probably."

Steve frowns a little more and nods, rolling his shoulders back. "If they are a permanent fixture in our hallowed hall, they must be welcomed. As Sixth King of Rome, this duty falls upon my shoulders. Fathers, I shall return shortly."

"Woah, woah, hold your horses there, little man," Jedediah says, moving to stand in front of Steve. "You're not going anywhere near that snake pit without some back up."

"A few centurions, at least," Octavius agrees.

"I will have Robin. What better protection is there?"

Jedediah and Octavius glance at each other before looking at Robin. She grins and offers them a two finger salute. "I'll guard him with my life," she says, "It's literally my job."

With that reassurance, Jedediah and Octavius move out of the way. Steve steps onto Robin's hand and settles on her shoulder with practiced ease, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach at greeting the new museum residents. He hopes they'll get along, but he also knows the might of his Roman army and the railroad workers can crush any who stand in their way.

Robin stops next to the diorama, tilting her head as she studies it. This close, Steve can see the bands playing on each slice of stage, the instruments and fashion shifting as his gaze travels around it. "Uh, excuse me," Robin says, raising her voice.

The raucous noise from the diorama screeches to a halt, the feedback making Robin and Steve grimace slightly. "Uh, hi. We're the official welcome crew for the Hall of Miniatures here. So, I'll need someone to represent your, like, whole display," Robin says, glancing over the bands until she finds one she recognizes. "Okay, I know you guys, so I'll be designating you the spokesband. Now, could the lead singer step forward?"

Steve watches as someone on the "Corroded Coffin" (what an odd name for a band) slice of the stage steps forward. Robin offers her hand to them, carefully lifting it away once they step on. "Great, uh, carry on, I guess. But, like, maybe play some of your quieter stuff for a bit," she says, her words barely out before the music starts up and the crowds start screaming once more.

She sighs and just walks over to the bench, letting off the person on her hand before letting Steve slide down her arm in a move they spent nearly three weeks practicing if only because they knew it would look cool.

When he hops onto the bench, Steve walks up to the other miniature, a man his age with long hair and odd clothes with tears that Robin once said were fashionable. His instrument is still slung over his shoulders, resting casually against his hips much like Steve's sword. Steve suddenly finds himself thinking that the man looks a little like a warrior. An odd one, to be sure, but a handsome one nonetheless.

He flashes his most charming smile, lets his shoulders relax, and says, "My friend here is Robin, Guardian of Brooklyn. I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army. You, however, may call me Steve."

-----

As far as Eddie was concerned, nothing mattered so long as Corroded Coffin got to keep rocking in an endless concert. The energy never waned, the set list never grew boring, and the music never stopped. He was ready to inform this welcoming crew of just that and promise Hell on Earth if they tried to disrupt the music (angry concert goers are a force of nature), when the words just died in his throat.

Because the most gorgeous man he's ever seen slides down that giant lady's arm, easily and smoothly landing on the bench. Somehow, his hair is perfectly windswept, the golden laurels glinting in the lights above them. His purple cape flutters softly as he walks closer, his toned thighs on full display with the toga hem that falls to the middle of them. There's a sword on the guy's hip, a chest plate that Eddie wants to pull off, a smile he wants to taste, and a pair of freckles right next to each other on the guy's cheek he wants to drag his tongue across.

He misses most of the introduction because he's too busy staring. He gets the important bits, though: Robin, a king, son of a god, adopted son of two dads. Eddie licks his lips nervously, a grin of his own tugging at his lips as he steps forward and playfully bows. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," he says.

It's supposed to come out joking, a little poke at the guy's authority to see if he can be riled up. It actually comes out way too genuine, and Eddie has a sudden realization that he meant it. He absolutely will accept this guy as his king, actually. He'll fall to his knees before him right now if asked, and not just because it might give him a little peek under the dude's toga.

"Please, just call me Steve. There's no need to be so formal."

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, hoping Steve doesn't realize that the things Eddie is thinking about (the things he wants to do to and with Steve) are just about the least formal things on this earth. "Good to know," he says, relieved his voice sounds normal as he stands up straight and offers his hand. "Name's Eddie Munson, uh, lead singer of Corroded Coffin."

Steve blinks, and his smile becomes a bit more genuine as he steps closer and clasps Eddie's forearm. "A fellow leader," he says, squeezing Eddie's arm. "Welcome to our museum."

"Y-yeah," Eddie says, his arm still tingling when Steve lets go. He clears his throat, idly tugging on a few strands of hair. "So, uh, what's the deal around here? I mean, giant women...Roman kings...cowboys, it looks like."

"Our noble museum is home to Pharoah Ahkmenrah and his tablet, which brings the exhibits to life each night," Steve explains.

"There's a few rules, though," Robin says, sitting down on the bench behind Steve. "One, no getting into fights. Two, be back in your display by sunrise. Three, no leaving the museum at night."

"What? Why not?"

"We have lost good exhibits to Sol Invictus's morning rays," Steve says, frowning slightly. "So, be careful."

Eddie stares at Steve with wide eyes as he nods, amazed at the fact that Steve seems to talk like that so genuinely. And the fact that Eddie is...kinda into it. Holy shit, that's not helping with Eddie's whole "fall to his knees" thing. He wouldn't mind some good old-fashioned worship if Steve would just smile at him again.

Maybe his prayers are heard, because Steve smiles at him again. "Wonderful," he says. "Now, Eddie, could I interest you in a tour of the museum tonight?"

"Oh, you could interest me in a lot of things, sweetheart," Eddie blurts out, his mouth running faster than his brain.

He snaps his jaw shut, relieved and horrified at Steve's slightly confused expression and Robin's "I know what you are" thousand-yard stare from over his shoulder. Before he can try to backtrack, Steve snaps, understanding in his eyes. "Ah! Sweetheart is a nickname, yes? I accept your offer of friendship."

Eddie clenches his jaw, stopping himself from saying that it's more than friendships he's offering, and smiles. "Yeah. A nickname. That's all. I'm just...a nickname kinda guy. I'll probably think of more, too, Stevie. Like that."

Steve practically beams, and Eddie feels his knees go weak. "I look forward to it," he says, turning on his heel to look at Robin, who thankfully schools her expression. "Robin, this is where we leave you for the night. You have my word that Eddie will be back in place before sunrise."

"Well, you two kids have fun," she says, grinning in a way that immediately puts Eddie on edge. "I'd better not hear about any funny business, though. Absolutely no bases should be reached tonight, and you'd better not do any conquering or pillaging."

She definitely looks at Eddie when she says that last bit. Eddie stiffens, doing his best to hold back a blush when Steve glances over at his, the confusion clear on his face. "Conquering requires more planning than this, Robin. I've told you before."

"Don't worry about it, dingus. Just have fun. Here, I'll even call a ride for you," she says, winking at them before turning, holding her fingers to her mouth, and whistling sharply.

Steve walks over to Eddie right as the ground starts to shake, easily catching him around the waist before he can lose his balance. "The shaking does take some getting used to," he says, his tone full of sympathy and obliviousness to the crisis Eddie is experiencing.

When his brain finally catches up enough to ask what he's talking about, a dinosaur skeleton slides into the room, its body wiggling excitedly as it growls. Eddie jerks back, the arm around his waist tightening some. "What the fuck?!" he shouts.

"Worry not," Steve says, leaning closer. His voice is a little softer now, his breath fanning over Eddie's ear. "This is Rexy, our steed for the evening. He's very friendly."

"Friendly," Eddie mumbles, letting himself be dragged over to Rexy and placed on the dinosaur's head by Robin. "The dinosaur is friendly."

"Many of the exhibits are," Steve tells him, grinning brightly as Rexy begins moving after a pet on the snout from Robin.

Eddie looks at him, feeling blinded by Steve's smile once more, and completely forgets about the living dinosaur skeleton.

--------

Lemme know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

(Also I know there are like one or two upcoming parent AUs that people have asked to be tagged in and I tried to see if this was one of them but couldn't find anyone for the life of me hfjdks so I'm sorry if you asked on another post and I missed you orz)

And, finally, a meme for you

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #Mini Steddie #the tag for this series #steve deserves good parents actually #night at the museum #natm crossover #natm jedediah #natm octavius #jedtavius #the worship kink was a surprise to me too actually #and then i realized it was v on brand #have fun guys #there ought to be shenanigans aplenty

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ashtavula · 2 months ago

Text

Royalty AU Pt 7: A Meeting With Malleus

Housewardens x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 3716

Start Here

AN: Another double feature!

You groan as you toss and turn in your bed. It’s far too late for you to still be awake, but you can’t sleep. “Yep. Napping with Prince Leona was a bad idea,” you grumble. After a few more restless minutes, you finally decide to just get up. You think that a walk might be enough to tire you out. So, you pull on your robe, and slide your slippers on.

You don’t want the guards to follow you around, so you decide to leave your bedroom through the secret escape route. You slip into the dimly lit passage, and you decide to head to the gardens.

As you step out into the cool night air, you take a deep breath. You can smell the Taif rosebush, and it reminds you of the day you spent with Kalim. A small, fond smile crosses your face, and you mentally remind yourself to invite him over again in the future.

As your thoughts wander, you slowly stroll through the garden. There are little green fireflies flitting between the flowers, and you giggle when one of the bright spots of light briefly dances in front of your face. But you freeze when you turn your head, and you see a figure standing in the garden.

The figure is tall, and a wicked pair of horns sprouts from his head. A thick, scaly tail brushes the ground as he turns, and your breath catches in your throat. In the silver light of the moon, you can see the vivid green of his eyes, and his pointed ears. The man possesses an otherworldly and intimidating beauty.

You swallow, and your words come out barely louder than a whisper. “Who are you?”

The man tilts his head, surprise flashing across his face. But then his lips curl into a smile. “I am obviously a fae.”

You take a hesitant step forward. “I knew that. Are you here because of King Malleus?”

“You could say that.” The fae continues to watch your every move with sharp eyes. His smile only grows a bit wider as you slowly close the distance between the two of you. “I am not here to harm you, if that is what you’re concerned about.”

You almost want to laugh. This strange man has broken into your castle in the middle of the night, and he thinks that that is enough to reassure you. “Then why are you here?”

“I simply wished to see what sort of human you are.” He suddenly moves closer, easily closing the gap between your bodies. He towers over you, looking down at you with curious eyes. “Tell me, are you afraid of the man you see before you?”

You tilt your head back, considering him. “...No. I’m not scared of you.” It’s the truth. This man is strange, and he looks intimidating, but he doesn’t frighten you. You look into his eyes. “What should I call you?”

“Whatever you wish.”

You scoff. “I’m just going to give you a silly nickname,” you warn.

“If that pleases you.” The fae is smiling, like the thought of you calling him something ridiculous amuses him.

“Fine. I’m just going to call you…Hornton.”

Hornton tosses his head back, and he laughs. “Truly? You are going to call me Hornton?”

“I warned you that it’d be silly!” You grin, giggles slipping out of your mouth.

He continues to smile at you. “Very well, my child of man. I accept the name you have granted me.” He holds out his arm. “Would you like to accompany me on a stroll?”

You accept his offer, wrapping your hand around the crook of his elbow. “Sure. It’ll be fun to explain to the guards why I’m walking around with a fae in the middle of the night while I’m wearing my pajamas.”

Another chuckle slips out of Hornton’s mouth. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to explain anything to your guards.”

You look at him, hoping that he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. Instead, he steers the conversation towards a rather unexpected subject. “I noticed that your castle boasts several gargoyles. Do you know anything about them?”

You blink, trying to think about the history lessons that have been taught to you. “Uh…they were a gift from the former fae queen, Maleficia. She gave them to us when we signed a peace agreement with her…about 400 years ago? I don’t remember the exact date.” You shrug. “People here think they’re good luck.”

“Ah, I thought so. They bear the distinctive architectural hallmarks of Briar Valley stonework. As for luck, I did see a few protective sigils carved into their bases.” Hornton guides you to one of the gargoyles perched on a roof, and he begins to ramble about its distinguishing features and how it proves that it was carved by a certain artist.

You gape at him. “Huh. I didn’t know gargoyles could be so interesting.” It’s not that you’re particularly enamored with the gargoyles, but you are drawn to the passion that he seems to bear towards the statuary.

“Indeed. Would you allow me to take you in for a closer look?”

You glance up at the gargoyle. It’s at least fifty feet off the ground. “Sure. But how are we going to-”

You gasp as he suddenly scoops you up in his arms, and he starts to fly. You cling to his neck, and you feel the fae stiffen slightly. But he quickly relaxes as he takes you up to the gargoyle. “I won’t drop you,” he murmurs. His arms tighten around you, like he’s trying to reassure you with his strength.”You can trust me. A fae never lies.”

As he floats closer to the gargoyle, you take a mental leap of faith. “I do trust you.”

His eyes grow wide, and his lips part, showing you a glimpse of his fangs. The expression is gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by an enigmatic smile. “I see.” Hornton’s gaze shifts to the gargoyle, and he launches into another lecture about the statue’s unique features and history. You find yourself leaning into his embrace, letting the rich tones of his voice wash over you.

As he starts taking you to see the other gargoyles, you stifle a yawn. Your fae companion chuckles, and settles back down on the ground. “Forgive me. In my enthusiasm, I forgot that humans sleep at night.”

“Mm, it’s fine,” you mumble. You expect Hornton to put you down, but he continues to carry you as he walks towards the main hall of the castle. “What are you doing, Hornton?”

“I am carrying you to bed. It’d be rude to make you walk to your chambers when you’re exhausted. Now, which way do we go?”

Pink blossoms across your cheeks, but you give Hornton directions to your room. As he walks, you notice that your guards and servants are oddly absent. It makes the dark halls of the castle feel eerie. The only reassurance you have is the solid warmth of the fae that’s cradling you close.

When he reaches your room, he sets you down on your bed, and draws the blankets up around you. “Thanks, Hornton.”

He smiles. “It’s my pleasure. Now, sleep, and know that you will see me again tomorrow.” As he draws away from your bed, you see more of the green fireflies appear. They float aimlessly around your room as Hornton begins to hum a tune under his breath.

Your eyes grow heavy, and it’s impossible to keep them open. You fall asleep to the sounds of the lullaby, already looking forward to seeing the strange fae again.

xxx

As the sun rises into the sky, you make the decision to go into the city. You won’t be meeting with King Malleus until this evening, which gives you plenty of time to spare. You think about the strawberry tart that you ate with Riddle, and your feet start to carry you to the Clover Bakery.

As you turn a corner, you’re startled by a loud voice booming down the street. It’s easy to see that the commotion is being caused by a tall, broad man with pale green hair. “Silver! You’re slacking off!”

His companion, a man with silver hair, sighs. You can barely hear his much softer voice. “Sebek, you’re the one who grabbed everything…”

Sebek puffs out his chest. He’s got a precarious stack of wrapped parcels in his hands, as well as several shopping bags hanging from his muscular forearms. Silver, meanwhile, only has two bags in his hand. They’re wearing simple clothing, but they both have swords dangling from their belts. They’re clearly not from your kingdom, and that intrigues you.

Sebek is so absorbed in scolding Silver for his apparent shortcomings that he doesn’t see you. He bumps into you, sending the parcels falling to the ground. You stumble, and Silver quickly catches you by the arm. “Are you alright,” he asks.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” you say.

As you look at the pair, you can see them both grow pale. Sebek immediately drops to his knees while Silver pulls his hand away like you burned him. “Y-Your Highness! Please forgive this lowly knight,” he yells. “I will accept any punishment you deem fit!”

Silver clears his throat, and bows to you. “Indeed. Please allow us to state our names. I am Sir Silver, and this is Sir Sebek. We are knights of Briar Valley, here in service to His Majesty, King Malleus Draconia.”

You introduce yourself, though it seems like they both already know who you are. Sebek is still kneeling before you, looking like a kicked puppy. You decide to take pity on him. It was an accident, after all. “I forgive you.” You bend down, and you start to gather what he dropped. “Here, let me help you pick these up.”

Sebek scrambles to pick up the rest, and Silver takes the ones you have in your arms. “Thank you, Your Highness. We appreciate it.”

You nod. “So, what have you two been buying?”

Sebek answers. “Lord Lilia has asked us to purchase various things that can’t be obtained back home.”

“Lord Lilia?”

“He’s King Malleus’ advisor,” Silver explains. “And our mentor.”

“I see. Is he here too?” You fall into step with the two knights as they walk down the street, presumably to drop off the things they’d purchased.

“Indeed! His Majesty never travels without Lord Lilia!” You flinch as Sebek’s loud voice suddenly fills your ears. Silver sighs, and quietly tells Sebek not to shout. “I am not shouting!”

Silver shakes his head, and continues. “We’re actually going to meet up with him now if you’d like to come with us, Your Highness. Of course, you’re supposed to be seeing him this evening…”

“I’d like to meet with him without all the formalities, if he’s alright with that.”

Silver nods, and the three of you continue on your way. Soon, you spot a fae lounging on a bench. He perks up when he sees Silver and Sebek, and he stands to greet them. “Oh? I asked you to buy a few things, and you bring me a member of the royal family,” he teases.

The fae bows, strands of pink and black hair falling into his face. “Lord Lilia Vanrouge of Briar Valley, at your service.” Lilia straightens up, flashing you a cheeky grin. “So, what are you doing hanging out with my boys?”

You bow your head for a moment. This Lord Lilia is dressed in the finery of an aristocrat, but his way of speaking is casual. You decide to be honest. “Sir Sebek bumped into me earlier. After they introduced themselves, I decided to accompany them while they met up with you.”

Lilia’s eyes narrow slightly, and his smile shifts into something almost sinister. The tips of his fangs poke out over his bottom lip. “Really? And tell me, did Sebek apologize to you, Your Highness?”

The tone of his voice puts your hair on end. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sebek and Silver stiffen. Sebek is looking anywhere other than you and Lilia. “He apologized, and I forgave him. It was just an accident.”

“Accident or not, Sebek should have been more aware of his surroundings.” Lilia’s crimson eyes shift to the knight. “What have I always told you?”

Sebek’s eyes snap to Lilia. “An inattentive knight is a dead knight,” he states.

“Indeed. Do pay more attention in the future, hm?” Lilia pinches Sebek’s cheek. It looks painful, but Sebek doesn’t flinch.

“Yes, sir!”

Lilia releases Sebek, and he shifts his attention back to you. “Now, we have some time before our official meeting. Perhaps you’d like to show us around? This city is rather different from what I remember.”

You agree. You’re curious about them, and this presents the perfect opportunity to get to know them. It also gives you a chance to ask some questions about King Malleus. Silver and Sebek deposit their purchases into a waiting carriage, and the four of you set out on a brief tour.

“You said that the city is different from how you remember. How long has it been since your last visit. Lord Lilia?”

He considers your question for a moment. “Oh…I think the last time was about 300 years ago.”

“I see.” Fae live for centuries, so it shouldn’t be surprising to you. But you’re still taken aback. For a brief moment, you wonder what it would be like to live that long, to see so much history. You shake your head, and you continue. Silver tells you that he and Sebek have never been outside of Briar Valley, so everything about your kingdom is new to them. Hearing that makes you pause. “Wait, then how did you know what I looked like?”

“His Majesty was sent a portrait of you when your search for a suitor was announced,” Silver says. “We’ve seen that portrait.”

Lilia cackles. “Oh, we’ve seen your face plenty of times already! Malleus has it hanging in the throne room back in our castle!”

You blush. Usually only portraits of the royal family are hung in a throne room. If Malleus has it there, then he’s practically saying that you’re already married to him. You try to reassure yourself that things might be different in Briar Valley. But Lilia’s mischievous smile kills any hope of that.

You clear your throat, and divert to a different subject. “Are any of you hungry? I know a wonderful bakery.”

xxx

You smooth your clothing down, and you take a deep breath. It’s time for you to meet with King Malleus. You remember the things your people have whispered about him, saying that he’s a powerful and cruel dragon. And then the things that a visiting fae told your parents, that his king was a lonely man who yearned for a companion. You approach the door, and you take a deep breath. The truth would be revealed by this meeting. You reach out, and you turn the handle. When you see the fae standing in the room, the breath is stolen from your lungs.

It’s Hornton. Your feet carry you into the room, until you’re standing before him. Emotions swirl in your chest. Anger, embarrassment, and relief all blend together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hornton, no, Malleus’ eyes soften. “Many people are afraid of me. I didn’t wish to frighten you. When you didn’t recognize me, I saw an opportunity for you to know me outside of the fear my very name inspires.” Malleus takes your hand, and lifts it to his lips. You can feel his warm breath ghost over your skin. “Allow me to repeat the question I asked you last night. Are you afraid of the man you see before you?”

You pull your hand out of his grasp, and Malleus looks crestfallen. He tries to look away from you, but you stop him by placing your hand on his cheek. “Why would I be afraid of my friend Hornton?” You offer him a small smile. You’re still upset that he let you embarrass yourself, but you suppose that you can understand why he did it.

Malleus sucks in a breath, and he leans into your touch as he gazes at you. “I…” His words trail off, unsure of what to say in the face of your acceptance.

Your smile widens. You’ve flustered him, and it’s fun to see the blush spread across his pale cheeks. “You know, you never got to tell me about all the gargoyles in my garden. Care to rectify that?”

He blinks, and a chuckle slips out. He takes your hand, gently intertwining your fingers together. “It’d be my pleasure.”

You expect him to lead you out of the door, but he surprises you by taking you to the balcony. He once again scoops you up into his arms, and he flies off into the garden. As you approach one of the gargoyles, you lean your head against his chest to listen to his heartbeat as he launches into another lecture.

After that, you direct Malleus back inside for tea. Now, it’s your turn to talk. You ramble about your hobbies and your life while he listens attentively. Then, Malleus tells you about his kingdom. He makes it sound beautiful. He describes dense forests and sweeping valleys and jagged mountains. He tells you about the thriving capitol city, and his own castle.

You sigh dreamily. “It sounds wonderful in your kingdom.”

Malleus’ lips quirk into a smile. “Indeed. I’m very proud of my home and its people. Even though I have scant few companions to share its delights with.”

“You have Lord Lilia, and your knights Sir Silver and Sir Sebek. They seem to be your friends.”

“Yes, but not quite. Lord Lilia has served my family for most of his life. Silver and Sebek are sworn to my service. None of them truly chose to be with me out of the desire to befriend me.”

“That’s not true.” You frown at Malleus. “I spent some time with them today, before our meeting. They all care about you. If given the choice, they’d all choose to stay with you.” You’d heard the way they all talked about Malleus. Lilia spoke of him with all the fondness of a father. Silver and Sebek had told you about how Malleus had been there for them since they were both children, and it was clear that he’d earned their loyalty. “Sure, they have a duty to you, but you’re doing them a disservice if you think that’s the only reason they’re in your life.”

His lips part in surprise, and his brows lift. He considers your words for a few moments. “...Perhaps you are right.” You can tell he isn’t entirely convinced, but you at least made him think about it. “And what about you? You have surely managed to amass many friends with your charm and wit.”

Your smile tightens. “No, I don’t really have any friends.” You remember what you said earlier, and you add, “Besides you.” As a member of the royal family, plenty of people would want to take advantage of you, so you’d avoided befriending any of the aristocracy. Combined with the fact that your parents insisted that you not leave the castle unless it was absolutely necessary, you hadn’t really found the chance to seek out companionship. Your suitors are the closest thing you have, but you’re loath to admit that.

“I find that surprising.” Malleus pauses. “Though, I am pleased that you think of me as such.” The end of his tail wags back and forth across the floor. It reminds you of the way a dog wags its tail. Your attention is drawn back to his face when Malleus moves from his chair. He sits beside you on the sofa, close enough for his knee to bump into yours. He stares down at you.

You realize that Malleus is probably touch-starved, but he doesn’t know how to ask for attention. You slowly lean against him, and you feel the way his muscles briefly tense before relaxing. He nearly melts, and he leans into you as well. You feel his cheek coming to rest against the top of your head, and he hums in contentment. Malleus sighs when you take his hand in yours, slotting your fingers between his.

It feels nice. Sure, you took a nap curled up next to Leona, but that had been on his terms. Malleus is letting you take the lead, and is merely enjoying whatever affection you deign to give. You find the pressure of his body against yours soothing, and you close your eyes as you quietly enjoy sitting next to him. Malleus begins to hum again. It’s the same lullaby that you’d heard the first night he’d visited you. You want to tell him that you enjoy it, but you fear that he’ll stop if you interrupt him.

This is how Lilia finds you. He chuckles when you pull away from Malleus, who seems rather peeved that his time with you was interrupted. “It’s getting late, Malleus. And humans need to sleep.”

Malleus heaves a sigh, and he looks at you. He gently squeezes your hand. “May I escort you to your room, then?”

You nod, and you both stand up. Lilia allows you both to leave, and you pass by Silver and Sebek, who are flanking the door. They try to follow after you, but Malleus waves them off. He remembers the path, though he walks more slowly than he did last night. When you finally reach your door, Malleus sighs. He lifts your hand to his face, and he presses a kiss to your knuckles. “Goodnight,” he murmurs. “May you be blessed with sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight,” you say in return. Your hand slips out of his grasp, and you walk into your bedroom. You quickly get ready for bed, and you lay down. As you set your head down on the pillow, you see a spark of green light. You smile as little green fireflies fill your room. And as you close your eyes, you swear that you can hear the soft strains of Malleus’ lullaby.

#royalty au #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia x reader #twst silver #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek x reader #twisted wonderland #twst reader insert #twst x reader #twst

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albatmobile · 10 months ago

Text

parent teacher conferences and other places to meet a pornstar

next: [2] [3] coming soon: [4] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 4.5k includes: cam girl AU, teacher AU, masturbation, public sex, caught, fingering, voyeurism, come swallowing, facial, deep throating misunderstandings, confessions

𓅪 cam girl fem!reader x jason todd, eventual cam girl fem!reader x roy harper, eventual cam girl fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

You hate people your age. Always quick to judge and even quicker to shun.

Kids, on the other hand? You could deal with them.

Kids couldn’t turn their noses up at you, they couldn’t gossip about you and they definitely couldn’t use Google. If they could, they’d find your not so clean history. You’ve never been fucking arrested- none of that shit. No, you needed to make up extra money to compensate for the low paycheck you take as a teacher during the day by becoming a camgirl at night.

It hasn’t been a problem at this school yet, but it always seems to pop up at the most inconvenient times. Eventually, a dad catches whiff of it, their wife gets jealous and you’re quietly let go. This is your third school in four years and you really don't want there to be a fourth.

That’s why you dread running into parents who come to pick up their kids.

You catch this all-telling gaze of a redheaded man from across your classroom. He’s helping Lian with the cupcakes she’d brought in for her birthday today and you quickly adjust your glasses, hoping he won’t recognize you.

The hope is in vain.

Your smile is strained as he makes his way over to you with his little girl and leftover cupcakes in tow. His gate is too assured, his eyes too jovial. So, you do what you do best: ignore the parents.

You bend down to Lian’s level to help her remove the cupcake wrapper from the red cupcake her dad’s given her. “Did you have a good birthday in class today, Lian?” you ask. The little girl nods excitedly, chomping into the dessert with gusto. “Do you have any fun plans for tonight?”

Your question is obviously for Lian, but it’s her dad who responds, “Do you?”

You clear your throat, standing from your squat as you face the redheaded man. This isn’t the first time you’ve been hit on, but it always throws you off guard when it happens.

You shut him down easily, “Grading Lian’s test from today. Isn’t that right?”

Her pigtails bounce up and down. “It was about the different types of clouds in the ‘mosphere.”

“Atmosphere,” you correct her with an amused smile.

Much to your chagrin, he continues on like you haven’t rejected him. “You look like someone I know,” he trails off as if trying to place your face.

Mr. Harper- Roy, you correct yourself, looks to be in his mid-30’s. He has a decent amount of stubble, crows feet grace the corners of his verdant eyes and his hair looks like it used to be a brighter orange than the faded strawberry color it is now. He’s exactly the type of audience you cater to on your porn channel.

“A person you know of,” you repeat his words with a disinterested drawl. You wish the conversation would resolve itself or just fucking end. This beating around the bush shit isn’t for you. “Odd phrasing, but alright.” You need to change the subject and quick. “I’ll be seeing you at the open house next week, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, babe.”

You barely contain your eyeroll as you correct him on your name. “It’s Miss,” you tell him your last name again sternly.

“You’re killing me, Miss,” he says your last name, obeying your correction.

“Tragic, I’m sure. Anyway,” you continue on unphased as you focus on saying goodbye to Lian.

He finally moves out of your classroom but lingers in the doorway. “Have you… Were you ever a librarian?” he asks suddenly.

Don’t reveal anything. Don’t reveal anything.

You calm your breathing. It’s too pointed of a question for him to not know the video that made you famous: a librarian who gets bent over any and every surface in the library.

“I’ll see you next week, Mr. Harper,” is all you respond.

You’re fucked.

➸💋➸

The Sunday before the parent teacher conference, you’re scheduled to stream.

All your content except one video, the one of you as a librarian, is solo streams and uploads, which makes it easy for you to make content and stick to a schedule. The one production video you did required a lot of coordinating and planning in advance. It ended up being a total hassle and, in the end, the money was about the same. That’s why you like your streams. You’re able to wear what you want, use whatever toys you want and you get to pick the location.

The library closest to you is always deserted, especially so on the second floor where the old Fax Machines are stored. The second floor holds records, old newspapers and magazines as well as a smaller collection of nonfiction. Total snoozefest for some, but the perfect public filming spot for you.

The nonfiction section is a separate room from the rest of the second floor and is hidden behind the shelf of vintage magazines. You’ve filmed in here a few times before, but never streamed. This is why you’ve chosen to come in around two hours before they close to eliminate as many opportunities as possible for someone to catch a peak.

You’re giddy as you wave to the librarian who always seems to be behind the counter as you make your way up to your favorite spot. You’re wearing a cotton, white wrap dress, no bra, red thong and heels. The light material shows off everything. Coupled with your signature glasses, you look irresistible.

There’s one desk inside the room, right in the middle that you quickly shove out of the doorway view. The heavy desk is the bane of your existence, especially in your fucking heels, but this way no one can see you unless they literally walk into the room. It’s not fool-proof, but it’s what you’re working with.

Always punctual, you start your stream right on time.

avid_reader began stream

Slowly, viewers trickle in as butterflies stir in your stomach. No matter how many times you stream, you always feel a rush of anxiety as soon as you click ‘Start.’

Private streams are a whole different ballgame.

Though you do offer it, you charge a steep price for private cams. So far, only your top fan has been able to meet that price more than once. The dude isn’t a creep, nor did he have any kinks you weren’t comfortable with and hell, the dude was pretty funny, too. Out of all the fans to get you in private, you’re glad he’s the only reoccurring one.

From his requests, you can definitely tell he’s an ass man. You also know that he likes when you wear clothes like you are today: inconspicuous yet revealing. Though he’d never say no to your lingerie, he always preferred tight fitting, see-through tops and short skirts more so than babydolls and matching sets.

Before you get too into everything, you tease the camera you’ve set up on the desk with your nipples that poke through the fabric. You adjust your glasses that fall down the bridge of your nose as you do so, earning you your first tip of the night.

You like to wait for your top fan to join, or at least give him a chance to, but you don’t have to wait too long before his name pops up.

inmyarsenal: this is gona b gud

Though his typing is horrendous, it easily brings a smile to your face, something he notices and tips generously for.

It’s going to be a good night.

You reach your first goal and slowly draw your tits out of your dress out into the open. Your nipples are already perky as you grasp your hands around them and squeeze. Your nipples poke through your fingers as you jiggle your grip around your breasts

inmyarsenal: someone’s gonna walk in on you babe

You bite your lip, looking toward the empty doorway. “I’ve been lucky thus far.”

inmyarsenal: i want t walk in on u baby. sO good for me

He sends another tip, completing your next goal all on his own.

“Eager today, aren’t we?”

Your stomach flips, knowing what comes next. You shoot another worrying gaze toward the doorway before scooting the chair back a bit from the desk so the camera can see down to your knees as you spread them. Your red thong is on full display for your thousands of viewers.

You pull up on the fabric, leaving the thong to disappear into your pussy lips as you do. You tease a bit longer like this before finally pulling the fabric away and exposing yourself fully.

You spend a few minutes slowly rubbing your cunt until you feel wet enough for what comes next. You tease the egg vibrator against your entrance, noting how the tips come in what seems like every second now. Within a minute, you reach your next chat goal- this one allows the tippers in the chat to set the speed of your vibrator. The more they tip, the longer they get control over it.

You slip the egg inside of you with a breathy moan. You use the silicone string that hangs out to continue to make the vibrator bob in and out of your hole, moving the camera to offer an up-close view of it.

No one in the chat gets a chance to call dibs before your top fan swoops in with a tip big enough to control the remote for over 15 minutes. You both know that you won’t last that long with him on the controls.

He starts off strong tonight, easing you into it for only so long before he ups the ante. Your settings on the app allow your viewers to control the tempo with their own vibration patterns that they create, meaning every single sinful vibration is caused personally by him. It makes it that much better.

Today, however, it’s like he has a personal vendetta against you or something. The way he’s controlling your vibrator, he clearly wants you to leave the library with a squirt stain on your dress. Hell, he’d probably tip extra just for you to film your walk of shame, too, the fucking sadist.

“Fuck,” you hiss. You can’t hold back your moans any longer, not caring how loud you’re being when it feels this good.

One hand teases your nipples and squeezes your tits while the other rubs desperately at your clit. Your legs are spread over each side of your chair at this point, though they’re not much support when they’re shaking this hard.

You’re about to come when you notice him out of the corner of your eyes.

“Shit!”

He’s not the ugliest person to orgasm to, that’s for sure. The man, however, is someone you fucking know.

ABORT! ABORT!

If anything, your top fan seems to pick up that someone’s walked in on you and uses the last few seconds of his control to push the vibrator to its limit. Your hips fly from the chair, arching as you orgasm with a pathetic whine.

You end your stream, shaking and panting, while your come-hazed mind struggles to address the Wayne ward in front of you.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you rush, trying to regulate your breathing.

You’ve already covered yourself up with your dress, but your thong is around your ankles and there’s no nonchalant way to fix it. That, and the large wet stain that now adorns the lower half of your dress from the front and the back.

Luckily, as soon as you ended the stream, your vibrator ceased, though it still remains inside of you.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” the man asks casually, like you haven’t just squirted in the public library’s nonfiction section.

You’re at a loss of what to say, what to do, let alone where to put your come-dripping hands as you stare wide-eyed at the gorgeous man in front of you.

Normally, you’d think it was a pick up line, but no, you have met before. Many times.

Your mother had been Bruce Wayne's elementary school teacher. Each year, you were invited with her to the annual Wayne Gala. Even after her passing years ago, the invitation still came, now addressed to you. Throughout the years of attending, you’ve met him a couple of times, but never much past the standard ‘how are you’ and never memorable enough to even remember his name.

This is a lot more than a “how are you.”

“I don’t really know how to answer that right now,” you admit slightly breathlessly.

Surprisingly, he snorts, “I can grab some towels from the bathroom for you.”

You just nod dumbly, half planning to escape the second he turns his back, half wanting to stick around and see how this all plays out.

While he’s gone, you pull off your thong and shove it in your bag along with the vibrator you pluck out.

Moments later, he returns with what seems like the entire roll of paper towels. He hands them to you, eyes never leaving your face before moving out to roam about in the room over.

You try to hurry up, wiping yourself down and packing up your shit at record speed. You walk into the other room sheepishly, paper towels still scrunched up in your hands as you meet his quirked brow and blank face.

"Thanks," you say, hoping he won't bring it up.

Luckily, he doesn’t.

“So,” he draws out the word. You’re honestly surprised he hasn’t left at this point. “You like nonfiction?”

You burst out laughing, something he appreciates with a small smirk as he turns over a title in his calloused hands. “I just like that it’s private up here,” you tell him your actual favorite genre before asking what’s been on your mind. “You’re Dick, right?” Out of all the Wayne ward’s names, this is the only one that springs to mind.

He huffs, putting the book back on the shelf, “Fuck no.”

“Sorry,” you hesitate. Should you just leave him alone and flee with whatever little dignity you have remaining?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he sounds apologetic. “It’s Jason.”

That name does sound familiar.

“Jason,” you repeat out loud without meaning to, something he notes with a small smile.

“That’s the one,” he drawls with a deep, gravelly voice. Most normal people would respond with their own name, however you just sit there in your squirt covered dress as he flits into the nonfiction room you’d just been in. Oddly enough, he asks, “Can’t really recall your name either, if I'm being honest, kid.”

“‘M not a kid,” you mumble in embarrassment, holding your laptop case against your wet spot. You’re 25, for fuck’s sake.

“Probably a good thing considering what I just saw,” he jokes lightly, though his attention appears to be on the books in front of him. You can tell his gaze is slightly unfocused, though.

You tell him your name as you make to leave. “Maybe I’ll catch you around,” you say.

His emerald eyes finally lock onto yours again. “Maybe you will.”

➸💋➸

At the open house the next day, all the dads stare at you, while the moms resort to glaring at you.

It’s what you’re used to.

You’re hot as fuck, it’s why you do porn. It’s why men like Mr. Harper think you have a familiar face.

Speaking of, the man’s been well-behaved for the most part. Aside from his lingering verdant gaze, he remains in the back of the room with crossed arms as he leans back in Lian’s chair.

The button-up you’re wearing shows off your lofty cleavage and tucks nicely into your skintight pencil skirt. To someone like Roy, you assume you look like a walking wet dream. Your hair’s up in a bun and your signature glasses as your red heels clack along the laminate floors.

You go over your plans for the remaining half of the year as well as the project and letter the kids had created for the open house. It’s an hour-long event with time left for questions after, meaning you’re fucking drained by the time you’re ushering the last of the parents out the door. Surprisingly, Mr. Harper doesn’t linger, nor does he actually say anything to you. It’s entirely odd, but you’re not complaining.

You need a fucking drink.

You didn’t plan to go to a club. It’s totally not your scene. Somehow, tonight, it feels right.

It’s a seedy place, but the drinks are strong and cheap and it’s exactly what you need after a long day like this one. You’re still in your teaching attire as you settle into the practically empty bar. Monday nights and clubs don’t exactly mesh well, meaning it’s close to dead, but that’s fine with you. You’re just here for a few drinks, then maybe treating yourself to some Chinese food.

You let your hair down, shaking it out as the lanky bartender comes over to take your order.

There’s a man across the bar from you. His face is obstructed by a red hoodie as he asks the bartender for something. If you tilt your head just right, you're able to get a better look at the white tuft of hair hanging prominently in front of his eyes. It kind of reminds you of Jason…

It’s as if he feels your curious gaze on him because his sharp one flickers your way.

Dark green eyes meet your wide ones.

It is Jason.

Do you make the first move, or does-

Before you can finish your mental question, he raises a questioning brow your way as if asking for an invitation to come closer. You grant it, moving your purse over so he can sit.

“Hey,” you say as his hulking form sits down beside you.

“Not feeling nonfiction tonight?” He gestures down to the book you’d been reading before he approached.

"I-" You blush, hating how easily he has a hold over you.

Though you’d only planned to stay for a drink, you order another just to keep the conversation going. The two of you talk about everything and anything. The one topic the two of you keep coming back to is books and he doesn’t exactly let you off the hook for the library.

“Don’t think I’ll ever view that section the same way again,” he admits, taking a coy sip of his whiskey.

“I really am sorry,” you apologize genuinely. “I didn’t know anyone even used that section and I-" you start to ramble, but he gently cuts you off.

“Trust me, I didn’t mind.” You watch as he downs the last of his drink and signs his tab. “You want to get out of here?” he asks suddenly.

You blush even harder. The liquor settling into your system warmly surely doesn’t help any, nor the heat behind his half-lidded eyes.

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” you breathe, biting lightly at your lower lip.

“You do like public places, don’t you?”

You snort, covering your face in embarrassment, but he won’t allow it. He removes your hands from gentle, placing gentle kisses to each.

“I do,” you agree with a light smile.

“There’s an alley out that door,” he offers in a gravelly voice.

It’s all he has to say to get you up and out of your seat, following behind his muscular form.

His thumb draws light circles against your hand as he holds open the door for you to leave through first. “Shit,” he says suddenly. “You left your purse.”

You look behind you and notice that, yes, your dumbass left it on the seat next to you. Without another word, he leaves you to grab it.

You still have your phone on you and use the camera app to check over your makeup and hair as you wait in the alley for him. You hear a random noise from the rooftops but think little of it as the hooded man sneaks up behind you. His large hands caress you from behind as he pulls you backward against his strong chest.

“Can I touch you?” he asks darkly.

Your breath sputters, wanting nothing more, “Jason.”

His hands slip even lower on your torso, applying gentle pressure as he reaches your lower stomach. “What kind of panties are you wearing?” You can’t help but snort. He must’ve liked the red thong because you feel his dick stir to life when you mention much of the same. “Shit,” he groans when he shifts up your dress.

He runs his fingers along the fold of where your thighs meet your pussy as if to check if you’re telling him the truth.

You hear more clattering from above but can hardly focus on it when Jason turns you around to face him. It happens so fast that your mind’s still reeling from the action as he backs you against the brick wall of the club to finally slip a finger inside your thong.

“Fuck!” you exclaim. You can’t help but buck against his calloused index finger as his body molds against yours.

His lips capture yours in an instant with an intensity that leaves you crying out with want. It’s muffled against his lips as he holds your hands above your head with only one hand while the other focuses on working through your already slick folds. He refuses to touch your clit, which leaves you mewling and struggling against his hold.

It feels so fucking good.

All of a sudden, there’s a loud thump that forces Jason to startle slightly away from your gasping form.

“Ma’am,” out of nowhere, a gruff voice startles the two of you, “are you alright?”

Before you can respond, words are already out of Jason’s mouth. “Arsenal?” Jason asks, sounding entirely confused.

Your head untucks from Jason’s sweaty neck to see a random-ass dude in a costume staring at the two of you. Your mouth is wide as you take in the new form in front of you. Your eyes trickle lower on his red uniform to where it protrudes out around his crotch.

Apparently, Jason’s seen enough. His hand shifts slightly as he moves and you can’t stop the light breath it draws from you.

The costumed man visibly takes in the man’s face as if it’s familiar.

“I thought she was in trouble,” he trails off as he realizes that everything going on here is completely consensual.

They stare each other down for a few more seconds before Jason lulls you back in.

Instead of stopping, Jason’s fingers soon begin again and you resort to hiding your face against his neck as you allow it. He notices the man’s continued presence and smirks down at you. “Are you good with this?” he asks.

You nod, moaning loudly when he rewards you with another curl of his thick finger. You definitely aren’t used to doing this shit for free, let alone for a live audience, so you feel a bit shy. The shyness only lasts for so long before you suddenly grow bolder, throwing your head back erotically as Jason brushes against your g-spot.

Jason nips at your neck, leaving bites and bruises in his wake, but your half-lidded eyes are focused on the masked man in front of you. He’s yet to move, let alone breathe, it seems.

You can't deny that he’s ripped, nor that his muscular arms are doing things to you.

He’s hot.

“I don’t care if you touch yourself.” The words are out of your mouth before you even realize it.

It’s as if the floodgates have opened as the vigilante begins palming himself through his suit. His movements are erratic and sloppy, as if he’s never touched himself before, though you suppose he’s never run into a camgirl in an alley before, not that he even knows.

You don’t even have to try to put on a show, Jason’s really that fucking good. Every moan, every writhe of your body and every shaky word you beg are all real reactions to his skillful hand.

Jason’s hand picks up speed as you draw nearer. His lips catch deliciously against your own as he coaxes your tongue lewdly with his. “There we go,” he encourages you, leaving you to whimper, then cry out as his fingers squelch in and out of your slick cunt. “Just like that,” he says. With Jason and the other man’s eyes attached to your pathetic form, you come, nearly crumbling to the ground as you do. Luckily, Jason’s strong arms catch you with a small laugh, “You alright?”

It’s your turn to laugh, “Fucking amazing.” You bite at the corner of your bottom lip, eyeing the obvious strain in his jeans. “Would you want me to-?”

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes out, pulling you in for a deep kiss. You tantalizingly pull your hair up, something you did in your infamous scene.

Both men watch with slackened jaws as you squat down and unzip his jeans. His clothed cock tents out from the opening of the zipper and you waste no time in sucking at the head through his boxers. Once the fabric is thoroughly soaked through, you pull him out to fully admire his member.

You bite playfully at your lip, staring Jason in the eyes as you spit on his bobbing cock before slowly taking his length down your throat. When you reach the hilt, you moan, feeling the vibrations of it settle across his skin, “Mm.”

“Shit,” he groans and his arms shoot out on the brick wall behind you as if to control himself from fucking into your mouth. “Done this before, babe?” he teases you, though his eyes are completely dark with lust.

“A time or two,” you jest back with an impish smile. Your glasses have completely ridden down to the tip of your nose at this point, something he notices and pushes back up with his thumb.

The action causes a loud groan from the vigilante beside Jason, “Fuck, man.” He’s eagerly fisting his cock at this point, eyes never once leaving you.

“Want to taste her come?” Jason offers him

The moan the other man produces sounds pained, desperate, as he latches onto Jason’s calloused fingers coated with your slick.

You suck more eagerly, watching the whole interaction with fascination. You’ve never done something like this before, but you don’t think you’d mind doing it again.

“You taste so good,” the other man mumbles. You have no choice but to blush around Jason’s thick length, deepthroating him until tears spill from your eyes. “So good,” he mumbles again, completely lost in you.

You swap between teasing and deepthroating until you can tell he can’t take it any longer and attempt to finish him off with one of your signature moves.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-" Jason caresses the back of your head as he empties out into your mouth. He pulls out and splatters the remnants of his come across your lashes.

You blink heavily, turning to the other man as an invitation. “Not sucking your dick, but you can come on my tits,” you say to him.

“Fair enough,” he mumbles, completely distracted as you pull your tits out of your bra.

Your tongue pokes out to taste Jason’s come on your face while your hands squeeze at your tits like you had on stream. Poor dude doesn’t last another 20 seconds before his hot come splatters across your chest with the rest of his load drizzling down into your bra like a claim.

Definitely have to wash that when you get home.

Both men help you stand, though the vigilante takes off soon after zipping his pants. Jason, however, sticks around to walk you to your car, sending you off with his phone number.

When you get home, you barely have time to reflect on what the fuck had gone down in the alley when your laptop chirps oddly. You set down your purse on your kitchen island as you traverse over to your desk. Upon opening it, you find your channel pulled up and see inmyarsenal has left you a $200 tip.

You shake your head quizzically, eyebrows furrowing as you search to see if it’s been a mistake, considering you haven’t streamed since the library. You go to refund it to him only to see the note he’s left with it:

inmyarsenal: have to stop coming by your streams. tAke this as compensation- no refunds :)

A/N: I've been waiiiiting to finishing this fic since last april!!! not super edited if i'm being honest

if you'd like to send me nice things in my ask box, it would make my day :,)

[next] || ao3 || pinned || my ko-fi / tip jar

#reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #dc x reader #x reader #my fic: parent teacher conferences and pornstars

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makerofmadness · 20 days ago

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ok so: Beast-Ancients Swap AU but actually the Beasts messed up the timeline and made it one

(I will explain I swear-) The following sprite edits and designs were a collaborative effort of me and @driftwoodmfb

(Lily's design and edit is not finished yet, and Ssalt isn't getting one until that character is released-)

general shoutouts to Driftwood for collaborating with me on this in a lot of aspects btw she's the mvp of this whole project

I am Very bad at concise descriptions but basically: "5v5 climactic final showdown occurs but the bad guys win and then the group consensus on what to all do together to compromise thanks to slightly different priorities is 'Hey we all really hate the ancients now so let's just like. Screw them over' so they basically used their combined virtues' powers or something (look all of this I came up with just to justify the AU's actual concept) to like reset and alter the timeline to swap their places with the ancients basically. and then they kinda accidentally get redemption arc'd in the process. Meanwhile the og ancients... are not happy"

I'm def gonna post more about these guys in the future (and also I like. Encourage people to send asks because I need enrichment dndndnmd! I have a ton of stuff sitting around about them and I love talking about them- so. Here's my attempt at an overview (I. Suck at being concise this took all day to not make way too long dndndndm):

Shadow Milk Cookie - Calls himself the Dark Moon Magician. He's quite braggadocious and more than a little mischievous, quite the show-off too, but he has a good heart down there (nowadays). Though he has often had to be badgered by the Light of Truth into actually telling the truth on things...

Eternal Sugar Cookie - You'll meet them someday. Just not now.

Mystic Flour Cookie - Her face and voice do not do much to express how much she despises the Cookie she used to be, and the Cookie she still sees whenever she looks in the mirror. She is the most eager to come clean to her Cookies, but something is holding her back... she decides to save it for when she has finally repented enough by her standards, to earn her position as queen. It's never enough.

Burning Spice Cookie - For the kingdom he rules, you may (or may not) be surprised seeing how little he cares for material riches. To him, lived experiences are the most precious things- hence why he's always looking for a good fight. Or to just have fun with those close to him- which is not many as he has had a history of issues- after all, transient things fall to time, but the impressions they leave can last up to forever...

Silent Salt Cookie - The fallen hero. It wasn't supposed to happen again. They all knew it could happen, they agreed to prevent it. Why did they make the same mistake...?

Pure Vanilla Cookie - The embodiment of the most common lie. He can string Cookies up to make them move and speak against their wills. He does this to himself often, when he grows tired. He is very ashamed of what he has become, but no matter, he will be fine once he regains the light of Truth, and exposes the truth of this world to all Cookiekind...

Hollyberry Cookie - Berry juice is a comfort to her, such is why she had wished so badly to drown her mind and all her pain in it. She is... frankly, harmless the way she is now. She doesn't have the power, pride or energy to fight. Her heart is just as full of love as it's always been, even if her mind's gone fluffy as frosting. So much that even being in a permanent stupor won't stop her from missing her family, still...

Dark Cacao Cookie - As he describes himself fully, an empty vessel without a will of his own, whose only goal is to carry out the will of fate. He will play his part in this story, for he knows there is no other way. After all, they'd tried to resist already, and it was all in vain. He is cold, empty, such was his resolve: to be unburdened by feeling, so that he would feel no pain...

Golden Cheese Cookie - Calls herself the Demonic Goddess. When she gets upset, she tends to fly into fits of destruction- which she has become very, very good at causing. She laughs it off, she laughs a lot in general, but she really does not like what she's become. However, she is still the same greedy Cookie as she always was, and still wants nothing more than to annihilate the ones who had displaced her and her friends and take back what is rightfully hers...

White Lily Cookie - Founder of the Lily Kingdom. She is a stern, serious figure who tries to keep everything under her control. She quickly silences those who tell her what she does not wish to hear untrue, unkind, or unnecessary things. She does not get very openly emotional often, and tends to address everyone with the same attitude even if it's her friends. (They can generally tell when she means well). She plans to silence all lies from Cookies' mouths, especially regarding who the "Heroes" and "Beasts" are...

(i. Never mentioned the name of the AU itself the whole time in this post did I? Ok uh that's Immemorial Interchange btw if I ever say that or II then I'm talking about this thing for future reference XD)

Edit: I have a tag on my blog for the au and I just kinda post whatever I feel like. Hope y'all can enjoy this I'm probably gonna be dumping a lot of stuff I've held on to. And I would love it if people send asks X3

#cookie run #cookie run au #crk au #cookie run kingdom #shadow milk cookie #pure vanilla cookie #eternal sugar cookie #hollyberry cookie #mystic flour cookie #dark cacao cookie #burning spice cookie #golden cheese cookie #silent salt cookie #white lily cookie #I see there's a tag for “beast ancients au” but it appears that's mostly for a specific au by someone #I think I see some other people use it so idk but I don't wanna risk uh. Infringing /silly so I won't use it X3 #Immemorial Interchange AU #<- hey. Hey driftwood look I did it I posted it it's live it's Born at last X3

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johnwickb1tsch · 1 year ago

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 11 all chapters

-You fly into Rome on a beautiful June day with an ache in your heart you can’t quite shake. You throw yourself into the sights, visiting museums, soaking up the beautiful art and the Mediterranean sunshine. You see things in person that you’d only seen in art history books before, and as an artist you know you are forever changed. You meet plenty of interesting travelers in your hostel, but no one who quite holds your attention, or your imagination, the way the memory of Mr. Wick does.

Italy is beautiful, but the men are exhausting. Not all the men. Just the continual stream of the ones who find you on the street, see a young lady traveling alone and take it as license to bother you. Constantly. More than once, when you turn down their offers of whatever, as politely as you can in your broken Italian, they get nasty.

It’s a relief in a way when you pair up with a kind young man from Argentina to go see the Vatican. No one bothers you, and you have fun, but it’s not exactly what you want.

You actually like being alone, and in others casual company you find that you itch to steal away to a quiet corner to read or sketch or write in your journal. You revel in this special kind of solitude, being a solo traveler in a strange land, not needing to cater to the wants and whims of anyone else for once.

When Javier tries to kiss you on the Ponte Sant’Angelo, you cannot help but feel as though you are being watched. He’s a good-looking young man, funny and sweet and you enjoy his company. At any other time in your life you would have happily lost yourself in a fling. But you know you wish you were looking into a very different pair of dark eyes, and you turn your head at the last minute, receiving soft lips on the cheek.

“Javi…” you sigh with regret, holding distance between you with a hand on his chest.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, clearly crestfallen.

“It’s ok.”

You’re not mad. You’re just…sad—and you’re not sure why you can’t kick this melancholy longing and enjoy yourself in this beautiful place. You feel like you’re walking around with a hole in your heart, and it’s all Mr. Wick’s fault, the big idiot.

After a week you move on to Florence, and the museums there fill your days. You see so many wonderful things, from the statue of David in the Galleria dell’Accademia, the wonderful paintings in the Uffizi gallery, the splendor of the Duemo... You fall in love all over again with Botticelli, Bellini, Lippi and Uccello and Tiziano and so many others.

You also see a sun-bronzed old man masturbating unabashedly on a blanket in the park, but that’s Italy for you, apparently.

You still feel as though you are being watched, but you never find the source of this weird feeling between your shoulder blades. You try to shrug it off, going for long walks along the Arno between snacks and visits to this galleria or that.

Before you leave the city you go to a book binder’s shop Mr. Wick told you about that has been in business for literal centuries. They have such wonderful things, books with leather covers and gilded arabesques, ornate handmade papers and parchment. You pick up a blank journal for Mr. Wick. It’s small, but its all you can afford. It’s beautifully made, and you hope he’ll like it.

Venice is beautiful, but so very infuriating.

You manage in a blunder on the very first day to drop your phone, cracking the screen into a thousand spiderwebs. It renders the maps you downloaded utterly useless, and you try to go the paper route, but you are lost for the umpteenth time in the maze of small side streets and canals when a seemingly helpful middle-aged construction worker takes pity on you and offers to lead you back to a main road.

At least you think that’s what he says, but after five minutes you realize you read the situation so very wrong, when you find yourself in a dead-ended alley and the older man is puckering his lips at you. It would have been comical on screen, perhaps, but in real life you are not amused. He’s big, but not fast. You’re glad for your flat sandals as you duck under his outstretched arms and dash away down the street, thinking you can’t possibly get yourself any more lost than you already are.

You look over your shoulder to check if he’s pursuing you, and run into something immoveable. You hit so hard you bounce, and you might have ended up in the canal, had strong arms not wrapped around you.

Oh no.

Fearing you may have landed yourself out of the frying pan and into the fire, you try to squirm away.

“Y/n?”

Recognizing that voice, you freeze for a moment, before actually bothering to look up at who has you in hand.

It’s none other than Mr. John Wick.

A nearly unbearable flood of surprise and excitement fills you from your hair follicles to the tips of your toes.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, and maybe it sounds more like an accusation than it should.

“Tying up some loose ends,” he answers vaguely. “Is he bothering you?”

You look over your shoulder to see the construction worker has emerged from the alley, and is stumping your way.

“Yes.”

The worker airs some dramatic-sounding complaint with John, waving his hands animatedly. John’s answer is much less musical, but perfectly pronounced, and you’re pretty sure he told the guy to get the fuck out of here.

Grumbling, your suitor goes in the opposite direction, talking to himself as he does and gesturing with his arms to no one but the audience in his own mind.

So melodramatic.

You cannot help but notice Mr. Wick still has his arms around you, glaring at the man until he disappears around a corner. You are still breathing heavily from your little mad dash, steadying yourself with hands on the flat plane of his chest. John finally looks back down to you, his eyes fixating on your lips before valiantly rising back to meet your gaze, his fingertips digging slightly into your sides.

You rack your brains for something to say, when all you really want to do is grab the lapels of his beautiful suit jacket, stand on tiptoe and press your lips to his.

“I…thought you were retired?”

It seems he only reluctantly lets you go after that, the tips of his fingers sliding from your ribcage. Immediately you feel the loss of his strong hands.

“I try to be,” he quips, almost evasively. “Why aren’t you in Rome?” He asks this as if you are the one who is in a place you’re not supposed to be.

“I…saw everything I wanted to see?”

Only then does he finally offer you a smile. It’s almost boyish, and it pulls at your heartstrings with a vengeance. You look him over. It might be the first time you’ve seen him wearing anything but all black, in a light grey summer weight suit with an airy white button down open at the throat.

He looks, if you may be frank, utterly edible.

“It's good to see you,” he says almost shyly, as though he's afraid you might not feel the same.

If only you could tell him that you've thought about him every day since you've been gone.

“I’m very glad to see you,” you dare to admit. “It's a small world, I guess.”

You decide not to think about what a strange coincidence it is, running into this man in a back alley in Venice. At the moment, you simply don’t care. It’s as though for once the Universe was paying attention to your heart’s yearnings and delivered on it in the flesh.

“Yeah. So...where are you headed?”

You sigh, and very sorely wish you could hang your head on the solid plane that is his chest again. Your desire to be held by this man is an ache in your very bones.

“I don't even know. I'm so lost.”

Usually you have a decent sense of direction, but this fucking city has you walking in circles. Usually that's fine too, but you've never felt so hunted in your life.

“Would you... like to come to lunch with me? I'm on my way to meet an old friend. He would love to meet you.”

For a moment you are dumbfounded to receive such an invitation. But then, you look down at yourself in your colorfully cute but obviously cheap sundress, then look at him in his smart suit that probably cost more than your car.

“That's so sweet, John, but I'm sure I'm not dressed to go wherever you're going.”

“What do you mean? You look beautiful.”

You look back up to him, open mouthed. He's never really said anything outright like that to you. It feels ridiculously good to hear it. Warmth floods you from head to toe. You know you are blushing, maybe even glowing, but it’s hard to feel too embarrassed when he looks at you like that.

“Thanks.”

He reaches up very slowly, just barely brushing your chin with his knuckle. “Come with me.” His voice is low, soft even, yet somehow adamant. It induces a flutter in your heart—and an ache in your loins. You like to think you are not easily led, but you wouldn't have dreamed of arguing with him now.

“Alright.”

His pleased smile is a balm to your earlier frustration. For the first time since you got off the train and promptly got lost trying to find your hostel, you feel like you can relax in this maze of a city. You didn’t realize it before, but you haven’t felt safe for weeks.

He offers you his arm.

The gesture is sweet, and gallant, and maybe you lean against him a little more than you need to. His arm is dizzyingly solid beneath your fingers, and you can’t help but feel a little giddy as you stroll together towards your destination.

#heeeeeeeeere we go!#maniacal laughter #john wick #john wick fic #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick x reader #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #bittersweet john wick imagine

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itsabouttimex2 · 9 months ago

Note

LSO AU sounds really interesting! Are we allowed to ask questions about AUs or does it count as a request?

Hi, thank you for asking! Questions are always allowed, even when requests are closed! I’ll elaborate on Let’s Start Over a little bit!

After his own journey ends and MK has his own story penned and published, peace settles across Megapolis and the world in general.

He’s even got himself a new title- “Monkie Knight”, after years of working for the king.

MK still steps in to ward off greater threats and more serious demons, but mostly steps back and attends to the noodle shop with Pigsy, who’s just about ready to pass the keys to his son and maybe take up a more casual lifestyle of teaching instead of serving. Maybe a YouTube channel where he teaches basic skills and recipes to viewers. Tang comes in to both expand on the history of what Pigsy is cooking and to taste test the end result. As expected, he adores the food each time.

Things are okay.

There’s trauma and bitterness that MK needs to work through, but… things are alright. With time, they’ll get better.

And then you come around to the shop one day to visit, right as the Ruyi Jingu Bang comes toppling down from where it’s been set- and you catch it.

So starts your journey.

Our golden-hearted hero is a little soured now, having been thrust into dangerous fights again and again. He’s somewhat resentful to certain individuals-

Mei, for not fighting beside him more often, in spite of her combat prowess and draconic powers. He gets a little twitchy when she’s around, thinking of all the fun she had off on her motorcycle, all the live-streams she giggled and joked her way through. MK doesn’t hate her. Not in a million years. Never. But damn if there’s not some bitterness. He’ll still ask her to ‘babysit’ you when he needs to go off and fight.

Though he still cares about Sandy as a friend, MK has shifted his perspective to disliking the river demon’s pacifistic outlook, viewing it as naive and somewhat selfish. He still goes over to paint and have tea, but things are somewhat strained between the two. It’s easy for someone like Sandy, a side-liner, to say “I’m not fighting anymore!” but MK never had that chance. Given that he was in his mid-teens during the start of his journey in this AU, the hero finds it messed up that he had to fight, but an honest to goodness ex-soldier chose not to. Again, no hatred. Things are just a little tense.

Macaque is pretty far down on his shitlist, actually. MK has taken some time to think on the simian’s actions and kinda wishes he had just let Wukong pummel him to death. Most of these feelings relate to their first meeting, but him assaulting Tang and attacking Mei certainly haven’t helped. Or his unnecessary destruction of the Dragon Palace of the East Sea. Or his refusal to apologize. Yeah, this guy doesn’t get to come anywhere near you. MK will act civil because he does believe in redemption and second chances, but dear lord is it hard.

(And he massively regrets the “you aren’t a bad guy” speech he gave to Macaque. Looking back on it, MK thinks he was naively seeing goodness where it didn’t exist.)

And of course, Sun Wukong, for… a lot of things. He talks rather bitterly of his mentor, viewing the Great Sage as irresponsible and rather immature. He wishes there had been more effort and care in the monkey’s teaching, and less “you can handle this”. There’s still some genuine respect and gratitude for the simian, but MK majorly fixates on being ‘different’ in his own mentorship. Problem is…

He’s choosing to be different instead of better.

Wukong had genuine and honest belief in MK, enough to let him handle trouble on his own. The Great Sage didn’t step in not out of laziness, but because he knew that the kid could handle things on his own. Sure, he was way too secretive and hands-off, but his intentions were only ever to help MK grow.

So when he decides to be entirely opposite to Wukong, our newly titled ‘Knight’ becomes a massive roadblock for you. Instead of cutting you loose with confidence, MK is stifling and protective. He’ll fight for you, cook for you, tend to your wounds, etc. Wukong tried to let MK grow without any form of safety net, but MK refuses to allow any growth without complete safety, which is rare.

Instead of being a mentor who’s trying to build you into the best you that you can be, he’s trying to be a father.

And honestly? Sometimes, he’s so good at the act that you wish it were real.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Let’s Start Over #MK

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babydollmarauders · 1 year ago

Text

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 2)

au masterlist

y/ndevils00

liked by john.marino97, jesperbratt, and 226,513 others

y/ndevils00 hello and welcome back to your preseason recap! i’m your host, y/n “dove”, here to give you my totally unbiased and not at all subjective rundown!

as this is preseason, not all of our favorite whores were playing tonight (gotta give the babies a chance!) but among the ones who WERE, we have best friend (or idiot) number 2, sweet baby jesper, akira-shakira, basket bahl, smush, uncle lizard, new-found uncle truffle, and everyone’s favorite babygirl: jacky!

side note: do you guys think Jack was looking around suspiciously in fear of me taking his picture? 👀

we had a pretty uneventful first period until my recently acquired uncle, tyler, scored the first goal of the game! go uncle truffle! he also let uncle lizard borrow his stick and glove! we love besties who share!

we opened second period with (fuck it we) bahl getting a penalty for interference! in my opinion, he didn’t interfere with anything because trash cannot be disrupted… but whatever! (yes i did stand on an empty seat to get that picture over the glass, no i will not be stopped)

halfway through second we had a goalie switch! those are fun! (they are not fun.) and i was caught taking a picture…. that doesn’t happen often, the guys can’t usually find me… i think schmido-torpedo has a y/n-sense. kinda like the sense i have to catch Jack when he’s watching cocomelon (that can also be found on slide 6)

in third period, my sweet sweet baby bratter got the devils ahead by one with his goal! pop off, you sweet swedish fish!

seeing as he went to the matt tkachuk school of hockey, lukey pookie was seen chewing on his mouth guard like LSH and electrical cords 🫶

and finally, i added in a picture of maraschino cherry, because he did good tonight despite being the apparent object of the rags hatred and being targeted! he held his own and even pushed a rags player tonight!

p.s. we scored an empty netter goal as well, getting us a 3-2 win tonight, but the puck flew in on its own for us? who knew that was possible!

tagged jackhughes, curtislazar95, tofff73, kevinbahl88, akiraschmid93, jesperbratt, lhughes_06, and john.marino97

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jackhughes i live in constant fear of your camera

y/ndevils00 oh shush, you love my camera

jackhughes no, i love YOU. i put up with your camera

y/ndevils00 aw shucks, you love me 🥰

jackhughes dear god please don’t ever say “aw shucks” again

y/ndevils00 ya know, i’m not really feeling the love here

jackhughes never intended for you to

user29 marino: 😗 y/n: 📸

john.marino97 did i just get… outright praise from you?! i thought i knew what it felt like to win, but i never REALLY did until now

y/ndevils00 don’t get used to it. i pitied you and best friend number 1 didn’t play tonight

john.marino97 i’m gonna ignore that

jackhughes for the last time: I’M WATCHING PLAYS! NOT COCOMELON!

y/ndevils00 say what you want but i know your youtube history

kevinbahl88 i was trying so hard to ignore you

y/ndevils00 you can’t ignore me forever, soccer bahl! i always get to the players eventually!

kevinbahl88 you scare me

y/ndevils00 you’re like 10 feet tall, how do EYE scare YOU? you could squash me like a spider

kevinbahl88 or i could not be watching and trip over you and break my neck

y/ndevils00 this feels like an attack on MY height now… @/colecaufield how do you deal with this?

colecaufield now hold on… wtf

akiraschmid93 i do have a y/n sense, i acquired it over the playoffs

y/ndevils00 that scares me

akiraschmid93 i’m always watching

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes TELL HIM TO STOP

jackhughes how does it feel, dove?

y/ndevils00 i- LSH and i are moving in with john

john.marino97 no, you’re not! i can’t have you there to cockblock when i’m trying to hook up

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 this is why dawson is best friend number 1

lhughes_06 did you just compare me to your cat with an apparent death wish?

y/ndevils00 be nice to Lil’ Satan! she may not be smart, but where she lacks brain cells, she makes up for in cuddles! kinda like your brother!

jackhughes all i do is love you and this is the thanks i get?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes you get other kinds of thanks too! but you said i can’t speak of that on here anymore

lhughes_06 god please don’t. i see all your posts.

user18 y/n is out here acquiring uncles like i acquire new nhl crushes

tofff73 did you just nickname me truffle? and call me your uncle?

y/ndevils00 welcome to the devils!

tofff73 thanks? i think?

nicohischier you get used to her, she’s an acquired taste… but you have no choice but to acquire it

curtislazar95 you are my favorite niece

y/ndevils00 🥹 and you are my favorite uncle, lizard man 🫶

curtislazar95 🦎💚

jesperbratt hey! that’s me!

y/ndevils00 that’s you!! you look at you all smiley and scoring a goal! i’ll break lindy’s kneecaps for you… i don’t think it would be that hard. he’s old.

nicohischier y/n, i’m BEGGING you to stop dissing our coach. you’re gonna lose your job!

y/ndevils00 @/nicohischier nah, lindy thinks i’m funny

jackhughes @/nicohischier i wish she was joking but i’m pretty sure he called her his honorary daughter last sunday after she said she would be in his walls if she couldn’t go to Montreal and see Cole

dawson1417 i feel left out. i don’t like not playing!

y/ndevils00 so get your skates on and play! what lindy gonna do? tell you no?

dawson1417 uh yeah?

y/ndevils00 oh- well leave that up to me then

dawson1417 what are you gonna do…

y/ndevils00 shhh don’t worry about it

trevorzegras i’m so glad i’m not a devil and don’t have to be subjected to these posts

y/ndevils00 you’re unemployed, you should probably be worrying about bigger things right now before i have to see you as a thirst trap tiktoker

user72 the return of jack the ipad kid!!

#media management au!#media management series <3 #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3 #faithlynn’s insta edits <3

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scifriskyxy · 2 months ago

Text

I've seen a couple of headcannons about Maria surviving somehow and seemingly ending up being a good person. I don't think that would be the case, tho hear me out

I don't think Maria would have ended up being a good person, but Maria would have grown up to be as bad or even worse than eggman in...different ways to the point it makes,gerald with the new information given is obviously has alot of darkness alot...he wasn't a good person that's what I am saying,like who takes their grandchildren pet experiments on it and leaves it to rot because it ended up being a failure? Guess what bio lizard that's some fuck up shit

Everyone talks as if...he was a good man he was likely never a good person. People always talk good about the dead, always forgetting whatever evil stuff they've done in the past conveniently , he most likely never was one to begin with and he hid more horrible secrets somewhere deep within the ark,the ark is a massive place we only had a glimpse of a certain section on it where shadow was created. A likely sealed off section due to its history,the place is the size of a moon/small by what I can tell, and also he likely has other secrets before that outside of the ark ,on earth maybe on mobious during his brief travels down there

A robotnik always growing up on being a robotnik

The only reason shadow having ended up being a good person...was due to the naive promises of a sick child who likely have barely experienced the world and didn't grow to eventually become the monster that alot of the robotnik family ends up being,what if...she was already developing those tendencies under gerald and shadow being naive never even noticed

What if this is cannon, and we've been just oh nice human child and experiment buddy running around having fun being nice

When budding an absolute sick little monster brat, a big ol monster mostly deceives everyone and poor innocent experiment fooled by the happy times.

If yall gonna make maria survive the ark Give me a old Maria who at first acts nice on first meeting shadow then it slowly unravels SHES A FUCKING MONSTER to the point that eggman pretends she doesn't exist because he's terrified of her and actually knew she was around and he didn't say anything because he knew how she is ,and Eggman EGGMAN didn't wish her upon his enemies like AT ALL he never said anything about them pretending he never knew gerald or Maria as to not mess up shadow even more than he already is ,gerald and Maria weren't the nicest robotnik family members no EGGMAN IS and that's saying alot ,it spins a whole other meaning of gerald and Maria being the black sheep of the family , most see the black sheep as being the nicest person pretty much abused n shit in a family of assholes , but in the robotnik they are the worse of the worse of an already fucked up family

Actually... this is my au Maria. Well, who she had been if she survived the ark,a monster in human skin metaphorically speaking tho she died, she had been already showing signs of the monster she would have become.

Fate never speaks ill of the dead, but she makes very few exceptions, but she never speaks of this to shadow, but now that he's better and gotten over, he's been slowly learning the truth about that family to the point that it's making him ill having robotnik in his own name

When fate and shadow eventually do get married, the shadow decides to take fates, the family name replacing the robotnik in his own, signifying that he's both truly moved on and never wants to ever be associated with that family again and the rose colored glasses on those memories are gone

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twstunes · 1 year ago

Text

(makes an au, forgets about it, abruptly remembers it, writes nearly 4k words about it)

Ramshackle Recruitment AU – from the outside in

Normally, transferring dorms at NRC requires redoing the dorm assignment ceremony. Transferring to Ramshackle dorm, however, only requires filling out some paperwork and getting approval from the Headmage. Sure, there’s still the matter of cleaning up a room to live in and getting all their stuff moved over, but it’s a much easier transfer process in comparison to the other dorms.

So, how do the other dorms feel about all this? Or, better yet: how do the housewardens react?

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Characters: all Housewardens (+ Jamil & Ortho cameos)

Notes: gn Yuu

Warnings: some spoilers for the main story

Riddle Rosehearts originally pays the matter no attention. Who in their right mind would transfer to Ramshackle? The building is dusty and decrepit, the surrounding grounds are a mess, and the so-called ‘housewarden’ can’t even use magic. Clearly Heartslabyul is the superior choice through and through, especially under his skilled leadership. Those few that decided to leave during the recent Unbirthday Party would come crawling back soon enough, and he would dole out the appropriate punishments for such insubordinate behavior.

…of course, then he catches some of his dormmates talking about transferring as well. It’s obvious that they’re just joking around, but when one of them laughs about “getting out from under that half-pint’s thumb,” Riddle sets a new record for how fast his face can go scarlet. The students involved—and even a few who just happened to be nearby at the time—are collared and assigned a 10,000 word essay on the history of Heartslabyul. They obviously don’t realize how lucky they are to have been assigned to his dorm if they’re making wisecracks like that! Riddle throws such a fit that the whole dorm winds up aware of what happened, which inadvertently causes a number of students to seriously consider transferring.

After his overblot, Riddle is…a smidge more calm about things. He’s still not happy that someone would want to transfer out of Heartslabyul, and still feels that it reflects poorly on him as housewarden. Anyone wishing to transfer to Ramshackle will have to explain their reasoning for doing so, just in case it’s due to a problem that can be easily fixed.

Riddle checks in with Yuu regularly to ask how the Heartslabyul expats are doing, if they’re following the (Ramshackle dorm) rules, so on and so forth. He also asks after Yuu themself, wanting to know how they’re faring as both a freshman and a new housewarden. Having embarrassed himself so thoroughly early on in their acquaintanceship, he really wants to rehab their view of him into something more like “a reliable upperclassman.”

However. There’s one thing he refuses to let go, and it’s the fact that Ramshackle has no ‘official’ dorm uniform. Changing their school uniform is as simple as switching out vests and ribbons, but how are students meant to present themselves during formal events?! No, they can’t just wear their ceremonial robes for everything! He’s absolutely going to keep badgering Yuu about this until they come up with a satisfactory solution.

General Heartslabyul reaction: As previously alluded to, “running off to join Ramshackle” becomes a running not-so-joke in the dorm, especially among freshmen who keep getting collared left and right. For all the talk, though, a lot of them choose to stick it out in Heartslabyul anyway—it’s just nice to know the option is there. Those who do follow through on transferring might face some light jeering from their peers, but there’s rarely any legitimate ill will involved. Transfers are more worried about how Riddle will react to the news. Prior to his overblot, he’s liable to forbid them from setting foot in Heartslabyul ever again. Afterwards, he’s just…kind of overbearing, which can make interacting with him awkward.

It’s all fun and games to Leona Kingscholar until someone transfers from Savanaclaw, which has him spending roughly the next hour or so being noticeably agitated. And then he gets over it.

Sure, he’s not pleased that someone from his dorm would rather cast their lot with the dilapidated, rickety dorm being run by a total rookie…but so long as the outgoing student isn’t mouthing off, it’s no skin off his back. The situation as a whole is too funny for him to resent for long. Some frosh poaching students from Heartslabyul, right in front of Riddle, just to irritate the guy? Priceless. Crowley not even knowing until it was too late to break up the dorm? Comedy gold. Watching Riddle and Vil get worked up over ‘losing’ students to Ramshackle? That’s what they get for constantly upbraiding their dormmates. It’s a free fireworks show to him.

Truthfully, he expects Yuu to crash and burn within the first month of playing at being a housewarden. As fun as it is to watch them get under Riddle’s skin, their lack of planning is painfully obvious. A bold opening move isn’t worth much without a good strategy to capitalize on it with. Plus, being a magicless student at a mage academy, Yuu doesn’t exactly command respect from their peers; as the threat Riddle posed starts to fade, it’ll be hard for them to keep their newfound dormmates under control.

After his overblot, when it becomes apparent that Ramshackle dorm isn’t going under anytime soon, Leona can admit to being a little impressed. There must be more to Yuu than meets the eye if they’re still holding their own as housewarden, especially after dealing with two overblots in just as many months.

That doesn’t mean he has any intention of going out of his way to help out, of course, and he’s happy to remind Yuu of that as needed. He has his own agenda to attend to, even if a solid chunk of it consists of lazing about. But if someone happens to harass another student for being in Ramshackle, and it just so happens to disturb his sleep…well, it’s on the harasser for not being more aware of their surroundings. Sloppy work on their part.

Speaking of his naps, he’s fairly consistent about taking up real estate on the Ramshackle common room’s couch. He’s been using it as a secret nap spot for years now, and he’s not about to give it up. All the other housewardens are liable to invite themselves over to Ramshackle for one reason or another, anyway, so he hardly sees why this should be a problem. And hey, would you look at that! The place is a lot less dusty nowadays. Thanks, herbivores.

General Savanaclaw reaction: Savanaclaw’s treatment of Ramshackle transfers can range from “playful heckling” to “active ostracization.” Even if a Ramshackle-bound student is well-liked by their peers staying behind in Savanaclaw, there’s a good reason the latter dorm is often seen alongside the term ‘pack mentality.’ Once someone is out, they’re out—not just from the dorm, but from the various social groups within it as well. That said, even the meaner ones mellow out after the first time Leona gets on someone for hassling Ramshackle students. If their housewarden isn’t cool with it, then they should probably lay off…

For expectedly capitalist reasons, Azul Ashengrotto is greatly frustrated by these proceedings. Normally, a “for so long as the signatory is a resident of [insert dorm here]” clause is good enough to keep contractees firmly under his thumb for the rest of their stay at NRC. Does Yuu even realize how many Deals he has to go and re-negotiate now?? He supposes this is what he gets for thinking he could get away with not being as thorough as possible with each contract. He likely approaches Yuu to discuss the matter directly, especially if students start trying to change dorms just to render their contracts null. Of course, his version of “discussing the issue” feels, looks, and sounds a lot more like “trying to lure the Prefect into a Deal where they’re required to reject any Ramshackle applicant who has a standing contract.”

Apart from that whole headache, he’s incredibly calm about students transferring out from Octavinelle. Far be it from him, a model businessman, to discourage a fellow enterprising spirit! To tell the truth, he’s less interested in the transfers themselves and more interested in whatever Yuu is up to. Propping themself up as a housewarden despite having neither experience nor magic, getting Crowley to agree to a dorm transfer process leagues easier than the normal method, accepting just about any applicant who wants to join Ramshackle…why, NRC’s newest housewarden might be just as ambitious as himself! Post-overblot, he makes sure to notify them that even with his Deals business cut down at the knees, he’s still happy to lend a listening ear (or a helping hand) to any poor souls in need!

…which is to say, he’s getting antsy waiting for Yuu to actually do something with all the clout they’ve been accumulating. Even trying to open a competing café would make more sense than just…going about normal housewarden duties. But they have to be after something, right? It wouldn’t make sense to engineer such a perfect “rise to power” otherwise, even if it all seemed to have begun as just a way to spite Riddle. Being stuck watching and waiting like this is going to drive him nuts. To make matters worse, Floyd keeps whining that he’s going to run off to join Ramshackle dorm whenever he especially doesn’t feel like working at the Lounge. (It was funny the first couple times, admittedly, but now it’s just annoying.)

General Octavinelle reaction: The students of Octavinelle dorm might hold respect for their housewarden, but it’s also incredibly funny to watch him be inconvenienced like this. Most of them aren’t afflicted by the capitalist brain fungus Azul has going on, so they don’t see Ramshackle dorm as much more than Yuu trying to make the best of an exceedingly strange situation. The only time students from this dorm will cause a fuss about Ramshackle transfers is if they cause Mostro Lounge to be short-staffed for a shift. Azul is quick to set a rule that no one is allowed to transfer out of Octavinelle on days they’re scheduled to work.

Kalim Al-Asim is, for all intents and purposes, perfectly okay with everything! It’s sad to see people from his dorm leave, sure, and– okay, maybe it causes the people-pleasing part of his brain to itch and wonder if he’d upset them somehow, or if they don’t like him anymore or if he needs to apologize or– well, he’s fine! Really! None of that is gonna stop him from wishing them well! And besides, they’re just changing dorms. It isn’t like he’ll never see them again.

Unlike Riddle, he doesn’t check in with Yuu about how ex-Scarabia students are doing over at Ramshackle. Social butterfly that he is, he just goes and talks to them directly! He also checks in less than Riddle, though that might be because he occasionally forgets just who exactly has transferred…

Of the housewardens, Kalim is the most supportive of Yuu from the get-go, even if a lot of his support involves him delegating to Jamil in one way or another. Fortunately, as the eldest brother out of 30 kids, his Big Bro Instincts are sharp—he’s genuinely a good person for Yuu to go to if they start feeling lonely, homesick, or overwhelmed by housewarden duties. It’s amazing how much a magic carpet ride and a good talk can do!

He suggests throwing a party in celebration of the new dorm as soon as he hears about it, but Jamil is quick to talk him out of the idea. Better to save the celebrating for when (and if) Ramshackle is officially added to the lineup, rather than when it’s just Yuu, Grim, and the Heartslabyul expats squatting in a dusty old building. (And rather than when Riddle is still fuming over being ‘betrayed’ by his former dormmates. Jamil swears he could hear the guy shrieking “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD” all the way from Scarabia…)

Following Jamil’s overblot, Kalim tones down his “Jamil can help!” version of support in favor of helping out personally. Or, well, trying to help. Even for an upfront guy like him, it’s a little embarrassing to admit that he often finds himself floundering to figure out what he’s supposed to do as housewarden. He got the title dumped in his lap pretty much out of the blue, after all. From the looks of things, Yuu didn’t really plan to take on such an important role either…sooo, it’s the perfect opportunity to learn from each other!

Kalim’s probably the reason Ramshackle gets proper uniforms lbr. He feels bad that Yuu and Grim got pulled into the Scarabia mess (during vacation no less!), so he wants to make it up to them somehow. When Grim complains about how his bow got damaged during the overblot fight, it clicks—he could get Ramshackle dorm some nice uniforms done up, no problem! It’d be one less thing for Yuu to worry about, AND it would be a nice “welcome back” surprise for when the rest of the Ramshackle students return from winter break! He already has his personal tailors on standby when he pitches the idea to Yuu. (He completely forgets to run the idea by Crowley, but in his defense, the headmage isn’t answering his phone anyway.)

General Scarabia reaction: Out of all the dorms, Scarabia is the most friendly in their treatment towards Ramshackle transfers. Since Kalim is housewarden, there will almost invariably be going-away parties for the transferring students—this unintentionally causes Scarabia to have a more favorable view of the process than other dorms. They might not really understand why someone would want to transfer out of Scarabia (especially not to a dorm as dingy as Ramshackle), but hey, it’s their prerogative to do so.

Vil Schoenheit finds the situation laughable right up until someone actually tries to leave Pomefiore for Ramshackle, upon which he finds it pitiful. They want to leave Pomefiore—prestigious, comfortable, tidy Pomefiore, with all the amenities a student could need and its own private lab—for a run-down wreck of a dorm??

Later, he quietly kicks himself for not seeing this coming. He’s in charge of the Film Studies Club, for crying out loud; he should KNOW how attention-hungry his dormmates can get, chasing the spotlight whenever it presents itself. What better way to stand out than to surround themselves with less stylish peers, all while taking part in a sensational addition to the dorm lineup? It’s a cheap trick to boost their image, certainly, and Vil makes sure to give a stern lecture to anyone he catches entertaining the thought. (“Fame is earned through hard work and perseverance, not by making oneself the crown jewel of a garbage heap.”)

During his stay leading up to the SDC, he’s pleasantly surprised by the conditions at Ramshackle. Much of the building still needs patching up, and it’s very basic in terms of aesthetics, but it’s at least cleaner than he thought it would be. The other students living there seem to be doing well for themselves, too, even if all the dust has done nothing for their skin. He’s not going to say anything about it himself (at least not when he’s busy stressing out over the SDC team’s training), but Rook will probably let it slip to Yuu that Vil is impressed with how well they’re handling Ramshackle dorm.

After his overblot, Vil is…still fairly critical of both Ramshackle and its housewarden, but less disparaging overall. He can see now that he was wrong to dismiss the dorm so quickly, comparing it to an uncut gem: in need of refinement, but no less valuable for it. He’s far too busy with his own housewarden duties, modeling/acting work, and running the Film Studies Club to make it his sole mission, but he still finds the time to nag advise Yuu about their skincare, clothing care, etc. As a housewarden, they’re among the best NRC has to show to the world; they need to present themselves accordingly.

(Needless to say, Vil is holding Epel back by the scruff of the neck. If he has to become a one-man PR team for Harveston to keep this feral country boy in Pomefiore, he will.)

General Pomefiore reaction: Most Pomefiore students aren’t quiet in their contempt for their former dormmates, even if they do offer praise for “bringing a higher standard of beauty” to Ramshackle. A number of them combine their condescension with genuine concern, though, reminding the transfers that they can always come back to Pomefiore if things don’t work out. There’s no shame in admitting they made the wrong choice, after all! (…well. Maybe a little shame.)

Idia Shroud is a little baffled by the whole concept, but otherwise the most neutral of the housewardens. Sure, he briefly considers changing over to Ramshackle to escape being housewarden, but…ehhh. The fact he’d be dealing with a bunch of outgoing normies is a dealbreaker. Better to stay in Ignihyde with its unmatched Wi-fi and folks who understand his reclusive, nerdy ways. Housewarden is a pretty cool title anyway, even if its required questline is a pain sometimes.

He is a bit worried that students transferring from Ignihyde might reflect poorly on him as a housewarden, but…nah he actually couldn’t care less. Big “wow, that’s wild. GLHF tho” energy. He makes a token effort of calming Azul down whenever the guy works himself into a tizzy trying to figure out what Yuu is “angling for”—it’s pretty obvious (to him) that they’re just collecting allied units to help mitigate any plot-mandated threats that come their way. It’s not like they have any magic of their own to work with, so this is the next best thing.

The dread only sets in when Azul points out that Crowley will probably ask Idia to make sure Ramshackle is covered by the school’s security system sometime soon. It’d be cheaper than hiring a licensed electrician, and Idia wouldn’t really be able to deny the request, seeing as his shut-in behavior is only being allowed in exchange for him personally seeing to NRC’s security…man, what a pain. Getting scans of the building layout and planning where to put what would be a cinch, but just thinking about dealing with whatever nightmare wiring situation Ramshackle has going on sends his blood pressure skyrocketing. Maybe if he doesn’t say anything, it’ll slip the Headmage’s mind…

Post-overblot, Idia is fairly determined to never show his face around Ramshackle dorm, ever. Hepta team caused a lot of damage while capturing Vil and Jamil, and more than a few students got hurt in the process. AND they kidnapped Grim! Everything gets fixed up in the end, but most of the dorm is still justifiably unhappy with Idia.

Though he cautions Ortho against going over too frequently, Ortho doesn’t share the same reservations as his brother. He even volunteers them both to help do more renovations to the dorm! In-person, at that! Between getting the Wi-fi set up, improving the heating & AC, and replacing/repairing various kitchen appliances, Idia just barely manages to redeem himself in the eyes of most Ramshackle residents. He can feel his soul dying through every second of social contact.

At least Ramshackle no longer has wiring problems?

General Ignihyde reaction: Students from Ignihyde rarely consider changing dorms at all, so when someone does decide to take the plunge and transfer to Ramshackle, it’s a surprise to the whole dorm. Some students lament that they’re losing a fellow geek to The Normies™, some make bets on how long they’ll last before they come running back to Ignihyde, but most return to doing their own thing after the shock wears off. Those closer to the outgoing student might put together an Ignihyde-style going-away party—that is, they play video games together in the same room and eat snacks. The roughest part of the transition is being removed from the Ignihyde groupchat.

(Note: this is being written prior to the eng release of the Diasomnia arc and I am fighting for my life to not witness any spoilers)

Malleus Draconia finds himself growing increasingly amused the more he hears about Ramshackle dorm. His favorite abandoned building is certainly going through a metamorphosis, isn’t it? And he somehow stumbled into a friendship with the new housewarden, too…this year is proving to be an interesting one.

Like Leona, it doesn’t matter much to him if students from his dorm leave for Ramshackle, so long as they’re not badmouthing Diasomnia in the process. The only ones he would notice the absence of are those who would never transfer to begin with. He doesn’t make a point of checking in on former Diasomnia students, though he may ask how they’re settling in if he happens to encounter them—which is a much more likely scenario than they realize!

It quickly becomes a running joke that the Diasomnia transfers never really leave Diasomnia, considering how often they run into Malleus over at Ramshackle. They probably see him more frequently now than when they were still in his dorm, actually! When asked about it, he explains that housewarden Yuu was kind enough to extend him a standing invitation to visit the dorm as he pleases. Who is he to turn down such a gracious offer? (Also, it’s funny how awkward some of his former dormmates get upon spotting him.)

(He’s also a little smug whenever someone asks “What brings you here?” and he gets to respond with “I was invited.” Especially if it’s another housewarden. And especially if the other housewarden showed up without an invitation at all. Which is most of them, most of the time.)

As fond as Malleus was of the old, abandoned Ramshackle building, he finds he enjoys this new version of it as well. Maybe even more so. The lively bustle of dorm life fills up the structure now, some amount of sound seeping in from around every corner. Even at night, the hush that pervades the halls is gentle—a far cry from the suffocating, empty silence of before. The restoration work is tasteful, too, preserving the original aesthetics and architectural style while making the whole deal more habitable. And, thanks to Yuu and Grim’s combined influence, the students there are much less timid about approaching him than the rest of NRC. All of this change, compacted into such a short timespan…

…it’s odd. For some reason, recalling how deserted Ramshackle used to be makes his chest hurt.

He winds up with much to think about during his nightly walks.

General Diasomnia reaction: Despite their housewarden being perfectly fine with people transferring out, the idea of someone “defecting” leaves a sour taste in the mouths of most Diasomnia students. Unless a transfer happens to be especially well-liked, they can expect to be treated rather coldly by their former dormmates. Fortunately, this behavior lessens as the bizarreness of transferring to Ramshackle wears off—and especially after it comes out that Malleus considers Yuu a friend. (Some of them still cause a fuss, of course.) (By which I mean Sebek.)

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland au #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #ramshackle recruitment au #twisted rambling

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sea-owl · 9 months ago

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I'm having Portia Addams au thoughts.

Here's the link to the orginal: link

For those who are unaware at one point, my gothic featheringtons and isekai Portia aus kinda mixed into this idea that Portia, an Addams family daughter, moved back to Spain with her young kids after the death of Lord Featherington. Over the years Portia and the Addams manage to surprise adopt the other spouses and some of the spouses siblings. Portia also manages to "corrupt" Mary into being her best friend after a trip to India. This au also had a dash of Edmund x Violet x Portia to my surprise that people requested it besides my crazy self.

ANYWAY I just had an idea set in this universe that in the 1814 season during the country house party that did welcome families to the day activites, to Aubrey Hall Violet sent an invitation to Featherington House with an unlimited number that she could bring (Violet never knew if Portia's family grew bigger and she knows Portia might just come back with an extended member or two) just in case, as she has always done. Violet knew realistically Portia was not leaving Spain, despite wishing she would.

Well surprise surprise Portia had actually come back from Spain with her family and best friend in tow to receive the invitation the day after the Bridgertons left to get Aubrey Hall ready. The servants who were to collect the response from the Featheringtons and record the numbers for how many were arriving were rather new and didn't know that history between the two families. It never directly reached the ears of those who did know.

"We'll probably have to sleep multiple to a room when we get there," Portia said as she looked around at the children. Four she birthed, four her wards, three who might as well be her wards since they never leave, her two nieces, and her best friend. She remembers Aubrey Hall having a lot of space but she wouldn't want her family to take up more room than needed. Perhaps if they can get four in a room, two to a bed, the children have slept in more cramped areas like the Addams family crypt. She knows there are rooms with two beds in them, then they would need four rooms? One of the rooms can have a single bed in it too if it makes things easier, her and Mary have no trouble sharing a bed.

"It can't be worse than our recent travels, and most of our bags are packed so it shouldn't take long for us to head off tomorrow," Mary said.

"It's just a shame we can't enjoy the nice dusting this house has gotten," Portia sighed. The Featherington London House looked like a right proper Addams home now. Just needs a few more touches.

"Well think of this," Mary said as she looped her arm through Portia's. "There will be more when we get back and all the curtians will be set up as well to darken the rooms."

Portia laughed, "Oh mi amiga the way you think is brilliant!"

The next day someone familiar caught the family's eye.

Gareth happened to be looking over his shoulder as they were loading up the carriages. "Grandmother!"

This gained the rest of family's attention as well.

"Well, well it as if the dead has risen again," Lady Danbury said as she walked over to the group. "I send my grandson off with Simon over here and now they both return with two old friends who were lost to time."

Portia laughed. "If only we were dead to rise again, it would be such fun would it not?"

"If only to give others a good scare," Mary agreed.

"Lady Featherington and Lady Sharma, it has been too long since I've seen you both," Lady Danbury greeted. Her eyes look over all of them dressed in black and jewel tones. "Still in all black I see."

Portia smiled. "It's just such a happy color, unlike yellow that is a true mourning color."

The three matriarchs continued their conversation when Lady Danbury's eye wandered to the brood of 13 behind sititng in the carriages. She couldn't help raise an eyebrow, how did these two women managed to collect all of them? Her own godson and grandson being among them as well.

Mary seemed to notice first. "Oh let us introduce you to the children."

"Mis hijos!" Portia called.

One by one the children lined up. Lady Danbury recognized last names of some and those she didn't recognize she did see their resemblance to their gentry family members. Did they kidnap these children? Well some she wouldn't blame if they were happier being kidnapped. She's heard rumors about some of these families.

When Lady Danbury found out they were also heading to Aubrey Hall she offered to have Mary and Portia ride with her. Then she swatted them on the bottom with her cane when they tried to suggest something else. They only raised an eyebrow unimpressed with the light swat but agreed to ride along.

The children climbed into their own carriages with Simon, Gareth, Michael and Phillip climbing into one. Kate, Prudence, Lucy, and Felicity into another. The last carriage had Philippa, Sophie, Penelope, Edwina, and Posy climbing in.

"Well the Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton finally have someone who can compete with their large brood," Lady Danbury joked. "The children will take Aubrey Hall by storm."

"I was actually surprised to receive the invitation," Portia confessed. "We didn't tell anyone in England we were coming, our leaving Spain was last minute."

Lady Danbury sat up straighter. "Truly?"

Both Portia and Mary nodded.

"We thought it best for the children's future prospects to take at least a season here. Spain is still recovering after the war."

Portia then muttered something in spanish that had Mary gasping.

"Like you're one to talk!" Mary exclaimed, lightly pushing Portia.

The two women continued to playfight while Lady Danbury smiled. A thought just hit her. She knows the looks viscount and viscountess used to send Portia when they thought no one was looking. And now they have no idea she's coming to their country house party. Oh Lady Danbury is about to have some fun.

#portia addams au #what if gothic featheringtons #portia featherington #edmund x violet x portia #edmund/violet/portia #bridgerton

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spacexseven · 2 years ago

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ohhhhh tuna you minx now im thinking about wet and pathetic subordinate au dazai.

it honestly never occured to him that he'd actually miss you if you were gone, you were nothing- less than nothing. just a rowdy grunt barely worth glancing at, destined to become nothing more than a forgotten name at the bottom of a filing cabinet and a bouquet of flowers anonymously sent to your family, if you even had any. you were just fun for him to play around with, that was all. he didn't even remember your name! or blood type! or favorite color or the way you pronounce certain words or your exact height or your eye color or your entire dating history or the fact that certain herbs (herbs that his book of dark magic SWORE were foolproof for love spells!!!) made you sneeze. none of this was information that he retained. nope. none of it at all.

but to be quite frank, the idea of suddenly no longer having unfettered access to you wasnt something he ever thought of before. in the port mafia's eyes, he pretty much owned you- you were officially packaged and licensed as a tool he could use as he wished, you leaving was never a worry! until it was. doesnt matter the reason- maybe mori picked you up for his own training or just moved you to a different unit, or you could've had to go on leave for a while and everyone is mean and wont give dazai your address, or maybe youve recently had a brush with death- as soon as the idea that you actually ARENT his property and its very possible that he could lose you sets in he FUCKING. PANICS. you cant go! youre HIS!

like you said, it goes from just a desire to get you back under his thumb to an overwhelming desperation for your love and acceptance. a mixture of overanalzying every single time you were ever kind to him and stalking you to the point where he knows everything there is to know about you makes him realize he's HOPELESSLY in love with you. he needs you more than he needs air. he'll DIE if you don't come back to him! he loves you more than anything! he'll do a lot of things to get even a second of your attention, even if its negative, he just needs you to talk to him, have your eyes on him. he'll cut it with the bullying at this point tho. as much as it hurts to be ignored, you being afraid of him makes him feel like hes imploding. if you instinctively move away when he reaches out for you he might actually tear up. speaking of which, falling to the floor in sobs and reaching for you like a child is not beyond him, he has absolutely no shame when it comes to you.

he'll only escalate the more you try to push him off or let him down easy, so honestly caving and giving him a chance might be your best bet. sure, he's incredibly unstable, dangerous, and you have absolutely no fond memories of him at this point- but on the plus side, you have an executive at your beck and call! hes FINALLY gotten into your good graces, and hell do just about anything to stay there- and hes actually pretty sweet when hes all lovey like this. I mean its less of a worshipping thing than you might want, hes still VERY certain he knows better than you and needs to take care of you now that you're officially his which causes some. issues. but oh well! better than letting him run rampant.

- 🩹

hello again!! so sorry it took me Forever to get to this im very very sorry

cw: yandere themes

when he hears that you might be shifted off elsewhere, dazai only pretends not to care, convinced that nobody would dare take you away from him. after all, who would want to make an enemy out of dazai? and even if you're gone, who cares?? he has tons of other people to pick on, tons of other things to do than mourn your absence.

it doesn't matter that the car he takes out is starting to look very empty with just him, doesn't matter that the driver's seat feels foreign to him after being accustomed to your presence. it doesn't matter that he has to start sitting on tables with just one chair in cafe's, doesn't matter that he still asks for your order as well and it definitely doesn't matter that the cat outside the base you always feed stops coming by anymore. it's not like he feels lonely, too used to another person by his side, not like you were of any use to him, anyway—all you did was drag him down!

you weren't anything special, nothing memorable about you, not the scars you earned after months in the pm, not the way disdain painted your face when dazai entered the room, not the way you said his name, and definitely, nothing stood out about you! he definitely didn't have a whole list of things written down about you, which included your favorite games and what groceries you got and what hobbies you had or even the number of interactions you had with each pm member (he also definitely did not cap the limit at 10 in a week, after which that person wouldn't be seen around you again).

but then it occurs to him that nobody else had the right to do that to him. regardless if you're in critical condition or sent off on some secret investigation, dazai is furious by the implications. the idea that you weren't ultimately under his direct command, the fact that someone else thought to meddle, it frustrates and infuriates him to no end. he panics, he throws a tantrum, but in the end, dazai's still not sated.

as dazai finally gains a crumb of self-perception, it finally occurs to him that he's in love with you, and he has no shame in letting the world know about it. he panics, wondering if you'd ever like him, but he pushes that to the back and focuses on what he can do. which ranges from stalking you to clinging onto your leg when you ignore him to even breaking into your home and nursing you. there comes a point where he is genuinely convinced that he might drop down dead if you ignore him any longer, mostly because he doesn't know how to deal with the pain of heartbreak and the guilt and the depression all sinking onto him at once. he has no shame in this situation, and no care for self-preservation, unlike chuuya. nothing matters more to him than you, and he won't stop at anything until you give in. and i agree that the more you reject him the crazier his attempts are going to get. the next thing you know, all of yokohama is going to wake up to him screaming about how much he loves you.

a lovesick dazai is an unstoppable dazai. while he appears like a fool in his attempts to win you over, he still maintains a cruel demeanor towards anyone else. if it makes you happy, he's ready to wipe out yokohama, or even just the person who cut ahead of you in line. just as long as you promise to stay by his side, of course. he's finally found a semblance of happiness, and he's willing to do anything to keep it. for the most part, if you're able to deal with him as a boyfriend despite his past with you, he's surprisingly not that bad. since it's dazai, there are still some glaring problems with the whole relationship, but for the most part, he takes on the role of an extremely doting boyfriend who just wants to keep you safe. and unlike chuuya, dazai doesn't ever let you know what dirty work he does to keep your relationship going—all his hard work would be for nothing if you were scared of him again, after all.

#my fav part about this au is how STUPID dazai is #ask 🐟#anon 🐟#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bsd x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere dazai bsd #yandere dazai x reader #yandere dazai x reader #yandere dazai #dazai x reader #bsd 🐟#dazai 🐟#subordinate au 🐟#dazai 🩹 🐟

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olympeline · 11 months ago

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FrUK FACE family Parent Trap AU, part 4! Part 1

Alfred and Matthew have finally realised they’re long lost twin brothers. How do you cope with that kind of bombshell? In their case: by being very, very excited. Alfred especially just wants every possible detail about Francis and Quebec and machine guns Mattie with questions. Matthew juggles answering and trying to get his share of detail from Alfred about Arthur and New York. Neither of them get any sleep that night, not that they care lol.

The next day, they agree to keep their new found secret just that for fear of the adults finding out and making things difficult. Then more talking about their dads, every time they have a free moment. Neither of them can get enough. Eventually the conversation turns to the break up. Matthew says Francis never talks about Arthur, but he’s sure he still misses him a lot. Alfred agrees the same about Arthur missing Francis. Then wonders why they ever broke up if they were so happy and still haven’t gotten over each other ten years later. Mattie doesn’t get it either. The talk turns to their dads’ love lives and it’s here that Alfred casually brings up Uncle Tony, because - being Alfred - of course he’d take that long to remember him. Matthew is aghast, especially when he hears Arthur may actually marry this Antonio. He only just found his lost dad and now he may be getting a stepdad?!

Mattie asks what Antonio is like. Alfred shrugs and tells him Tony is…fine? He’s a good guy and his paella is great! Good at soccer too, maybe even better than Arthur. Yeah, Tony is a good guy, says Alfred.

Matthew can tell there’s a “but” coming. And he’s right. Alfred, with a little prodding, says that while Tony is fun to have around, he doesn’t think Arthur loves him. Not really. He likes Tony, likes him a lot, but…

Mattie understands. He knows Francis is lonely too.

There’s quiet for the first time since the big revelation as both twins think this over. Then Matthew shyly says he wishes he could meet Arthur. Now, before everything changes when he gets married again. Alfred agrees and says he wishes he could meet Francis too. Their eyes meet. It’s not sure who has the idea first - maybe they have it together? - but either way, they know what they have to do:

“We should trade places!”

“We should go live with each other’s dads!”

“Yeah! They’d never know!”

“We’re twins! It’s perfect!”

Once they’ve decided, it takes a lot of planning. The boys have to learn everything about each other in just a few weeks. Enough to fool the person who knows and loves them best. They drill each other on names, places, friends, family history and stories, etc. That stuff isn’t so bad, but a major stumbling block is how bilingual the Bonnefoy household is. Luckily they’re not starting from nothing as Alfred does French in school and his dad has always been extra on his ass about his French grades. Even more than usual. Alfred gets why now. More drilling, this time in French grammar and vocabulary. Matthew isn’t too confident by the time they’re done but Alfred tells him to take it easy. He can pull this off! Mattie isn’t so sure, but he’s willing to try anyway. He wants to meet Arthur very badly.

The last touch and big test is tweaking their appearances and seeing if they can fool their friends and the camp staff. They practice the other’s body language and way of speaking. Then it’s mirror test time. Alfred has shorter hair and a pieced ear (the latter done 100% without his dad’s permission lol) so it’s poor Mattie who gets the impromptu makeover. Alfred Kirkland coming at you while brandishing scissors and a sewing needle is not a comforting sight, but they manage to get it done with no major incidents. (It’s fine, it’s fine! Mattie only bled for a few hours, tops). They try out the switch at breakfast, breaths held, and…!

Success. Noone challenges them. As far as anyone else is concerned, Alfred was Mattie and Mattie was Alfred. Aww yeah! Operation Switcheroo is ago! 🇺🇸 <- -> 🇨🇦 🇨🇦 <- -> 🇺🇸 🤜 🤛

Before they know it, camp is over and it’s time to go “home.” The boys bid an emotional farewell, promise to keep in touch and help the other out if needed, then part ways. Alfred takes Mattie’s passport and gets on the plane to Quebec. Matthew boards the greyhound bus heading to New York. Both are so nervous all the ways it’s agony and they can hardly sit still. Matthew almost throws up eight times. Alfred actually does throw up, then pretends he didn’t when the kind air stewardess asks if he’s okay. The journey seems to last forever, but eventually the plane touches down and the bus pulls in.

Alfred steps out onto Canadian soil and looks around for the face he’s seen only in his secret photograph. He hears a French accented voice call Mattie’s name, turns, and sees Francis for the first time. Waving and coming to meet him with a beaming smile and a big, white dog on a leash. Alfred was sure he’d be okay, that he wouldn’t cry. He was wrong, but the tears were hidden and absorbed by Francis’s kashmir sweater when he swept his son up in a hug. Alfred hugs Francis back, breathing in his scent and feeling his silky hair tickle his cheek. This is his other dad. He’s hugging his other dad!! Francis feels Alfred shaking and is concerned, asking “Matthew” in French if he’s okay. And Alfred immediately forgets every French lesson he ever learned. He might have been found out there and then if not for Mr. Kumajiro distracting Francis by barking up a storm. This little one may look like their pup, but he doesn’t smell like him! By the time Francis gets him to calm down, Alfred has recovered. He hastily dries his tears, put on a Mattie-style smile, and tells Francis in French that he’s fine. Just got a little hayfever from all the flowers at camp. Francis says they’ll get some meds on the way home. As they walk to the car, he asks if Alfred enjoyed his first time at camp? Did he make friends? Was it exciting? Alfred grins and tells him: yes, yes, and yes again. He absolutely did.

Meanwhile, Matthew arrives in the crazy bustle of New York and is barely off the bus before Arthur appears to greet him. Mattie doesn’t get a chance to think before he’s swiftly hugged, and then held by his shoulders as his dad grumbles about various things while kneeling down and checking him over for injuries. A common occurrence when Alfred returns from anywhere further away than school. Mattie stares at Arthur, lost for words. This is his other dad. His other dad just came over and hugged him. Matthew feels his mouth go dry and his eyes well up with tears and has to fake a sneezing fit so Arthur doesn’t get concerned and suspicious. The hayfever excuse works twice in one day. Then Mattie puts on his best Alfred grin and asks, loud as he dares, if they can go get some food because that trip took for-ever and he’s starving! Arthur grabs his son’s bags and says sure, he’ll cook something as soon as they get home. As they head down to the subway, Arthur asks “Alfred” if he enjoyed camp this year? Did he see his friends again? Did he stay out of trouble? Matthew says: “You bet!” “Yes!” and “Nooo comment!” Arthur tuts but can’t help the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile. He pats Matthew on the shoulder and Mattie has to act extra Alfred-style bouncy to stop the tears coming again.

Five hundred miles apart, Francis and Arthur are both surprised and touched when their son reaches out to grasp their hand on the journey home. Neither twin has done that in years, protesting they were too old for baby stuff like hand holding.

The hayfever excuse gets a few more uses before the day is out, and not just from the twins

(Stay tuned for part 5! (´ε｀ )♡)

#hetalia #fruk #face family #hws america #hws canada #hws france #hws england #aph france #aph america #aph england #aph canada #parent trap au #my posts

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