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godoflobsters · 3 years

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The Brothers and Dateables With a Tattoo Artist MC

My own MC was a tattoo artist before she came to the Devildom, so I thought I’d write up some head cannons with a tattoo artist MC.

MC is gender neutral!

Mammon

Nobody can convince me that the “Brothers Under a Pact” squad wouldn't be the first ones to get tattoos from MC, and Mammon would definitely be the first

Definitely likes to brag about it too

Don't remind him that there are countless people in the human realm that you tattooed before him or he will pout

People tend to think that Mammon is cheap and would try to talk you into giving him free or cheap tattoos, but he couldn't stand to be like that towards you especially regarding something that you’re so good at

Our first man works his butt off every time he wants to get some new ink from you

Likes to give you a big ole tip every time

Gets fidgety when he has to sit still for too long so you two have to take breaks often

Prefers small/medium sized tattoos rather than really big ones

One time after he started getting tattoos from you, he was at a modeling gig and they tried to make him cover them up with makeup, he quit and that magazine went bankrupt not too long after...dont fuck with the avatar of greed

Once your shop starts taking off in the Devildom, he and Asmo try to convince you to do a shoot for Majolish(They definitely didn't pull some strings to get Majolish to do a whole segment about you and your business)

Beelzebub

The second brother to get a tattoo from MC

Refuses to get any food related tattoos: he doesn't want to accidentally take a chunk out of himself when he gets blinded by his hunger

This man has a very high pain tolerance and sits like a rock while you're tattooing him and you love him for it

He definitely needs snack breaks during longer sessions though

Has a memorial tattoo for Lillith over his heart that matches with one on Belphie

While making this list I was randomly blessed with the mental image of Beel with abuncha old school American traditional tattoos and you can pry that headcannon from my cold, dead hands

Mammon likes to brag that he has the most tattoos from you, but Beel might give him a run for his money, he doesn't mind Mammon’s bragging most of the time though, so he just lets him believe whatever he wants this time

Simeon

But Simeon has never been all that great at following the rules that they set for him

The first of the dateables to get a tattoo

He wasn't actually planning on getting a tattoo at first, but one day he overheard Luke trying to scold you for all of your tattoos(definitely before the incident with Beel and Lucifer in the underground tomb) and that was the only push he needed to jump on the “tattoos from MC” train

There is a lot of rhetoric in the Celestial Realm about how “Your body is a temple and you should not mark it”

He’s still not willing to stray too far from his roots though, so he’d probably get something with vaguely religious undertones

Absolutely delights in the shocked look on your face and the sheepish questions on whether angels are allowed to do this

Once he’s finally convinced you that you're not damning him to fall by tattooing him, the process goes by very easily

He is very easygoing and open regarding designs and he handles the pain very well

He absolutely loves to show his tattoo off, even when he goes home to the Celestial Realm and receives his reprimands from Michael

Leviathan

The third brother to get a tattoo from MC

Didn't want to get a tattoo at first, all of that physical contact and pain on top of it? No way

But then Mammon, Beel, and even Simeon all got one and he got jealous

You're HIS Henry, why are THEY the ones who get to wear your art? He might’ve been able to deal with his dumb brothers, but SIMEON TOO?

You gotta sit down with him and have a nice long chat about it, making sure this is something that he would actually want to do and not just his envy talking

Spoiler alert: It was definitely just his envy talking

He realises that he is actually oddly attached to the idea of getting a tattoo from you now though, so he comes up with designs and draws them on himself until he is certain that he won't regret it

Would get something tiny and probably gaming related

Definitely very squeamish about the pain aspect but the design that the two of you came up with is very simple and small, so he is able to make it through without fainting

He absolutely loves his new tattoo...but he is never doing that again

Belphegor

Fourth brother to get a tattoo

Has wanted to get one ever since Beel showed him the tattoo he got in memory of Lillith, but things were very...not good...between the two of you at that point

Finally worked up the courage to at least ask if you would be okay with it after the two of you made a pact

Beel, forgetting his super high pain tolerance, told him that it getting a tattoo doesn't hurt at all, so he was in for a big surprise when he went under the needle for the first time

Whiny at first, but he manages to stay very still for you

Has a memorial tattoo for Lilith over his heart that matches with one on Beel

Will definitely start to doze off during long sessions

Convinced Satan to get a matching Anti Lucifer League tattoo with him(definitely doesn't try to convince you to get one too)

Make sure that he does not, under any circumstances, actually fall asleep while you're tattooing him. He did once and he rolled over in his sleep, almost ruining an entire tattoo

Ever since that time, Beel has come with him to his sessions so you could focus on your work and he can focus on keeping Belphie awake

Satan

Gets his tattoo not long after Belphie

One of those people that think every tattoo needs to mean something so he takes forever trying to pick out something that he wants

Would probably get some sort of quote or design inspired by his favorite book, something that really resonated with who he is as a person

Was somehow convinced by Belphie to get an Anti Lucifer League tattoo

Does he regret it whenever he realizes that he now has a portion of his skin dedicated to Lucifer of all people? Possibly, but he definitely won't say anything about it to you

Loves to look at you and just admire your tattoos, asking the stories behind each and every one of them that he can see

He might be a bigger fan of literature than the fine arts, but that doesn't mean that he has any less of an appreciation for your work

Definitely pulls some strings and gets one of his friends who owns an art gallery to display some of your work there

Can set you up with all the connections that you need to make your mark on the Devildom art world

Lucifer

The last of the brothers to get a tattoo

In the beginning he has no intentions of getting a tattoo, he does have alot of respect for your talents and how hard you work for them though

As an art lover and artist himself, he will most certainly commission you from time to time and hang your work in his study

He won't admit it, but seeing your art and thinking of you when he's stressed with work is very soothing

He eventually decides to let you tattoo him only if it’s in a place that is easily covered by his clothes, considering how he dresses that leaves you with pretty much his entire body to work with

Sometimes when he has some time off he will grab a sketchbook and join you if he finds you in the common room working on a design, you share a comfortable silence, with the only sounds be the crackling of the fireplace and the scratching of pencils on paper

The kind of person that wants a tattoo but has no idea what he actually wants, but hes picky as fuck so he will turn down every single idea that you give him for weeks

He is lucky that you love him

Whenever you two talk about placements, if you mention anything on his back to cover up the scars from his wings he will almost back out entirely

Almost

Afew months later he’ll put his pride aside come back, admitting that your ideas would be perfect and that he wants to go through with it

During the session he has way too much pride to admit that he was feeling any pain

That is until you have to start going over the scars

As soon as the needles hit scar tissue he starts to fall apart; tears, shaking, the whole nine yards

It takes you quite a few sessions to finish since he cant handle such long sessions on that portion of his back

The summer after his new back piece is finished, he goes with you and his brothers back to Diavolo’s beach, this time he takes his shirt off in front of everyone for the first time since the fall

He wears your art with such pride that he lets everyone keep the memory, he even lets Asmo keep the pictures he took of all of them up on Devilgram

Diavolo

Wanted to be the first to get a tattoo but Barbatos said no

If you want to continue your career in the Devildom for the duration of your stay, he will buy you a building to work from and any supplies to get started since you had to leave your stuff in the human realm

Diavolo has rooms in the castle filled with the art that he's collected over the years, so when he sees that you're an artist he gets so excited

Before he finally gets tattooed by you, he buys a lot of your artwork and hangs it up around the castle

It takes a few years to propose the idea again to Barbatos in a way that wont make the butler’s hair fall out from stress, but he finally relented under one condition: it has to be in an area that is still hidden while he’s in his demon form

He decides that his legs would be the perfect place to indulge in your artistic talents while also keeping Barbatos’s controlling side at bay

Hes another one that knows he wants a tattoo but no clue what he wants to get

Unlike Lucifer though, he is a true open canvas

He truly adores your art so he wholeheartedly trusts you with his body and knows that he will love anything that you do for him

He knows that this is most likely very nerve wracking for you considering his position so he tries to reassure you and make the process very easy for you

You still put everything into designing him something fit for a king

He’s the type to prefer large pieces that span over entire sections of his body rather than abuncha small/medium sized ones

Another fidgetter, he’s really not all that accustomed to pain so he doesn't have a high tolerance for it

Likes to treat you to dinner at Ristorante Six after each of his sessions

Tips like the absolute king he is, you could probably pay a couple months of rent back at your apartment in the Human Realm just from his tip

Once his tattoo is finally finished and healed, he will find every excuse that he can think of to invite you and the brothers on outings to places where he is free from scrutiny to wear shorts and show off your artwork

Barbatos

The last of all of the boys to get a tattoo

It was a complete shock to everyone when he came to you and asked if he could make an appointment to get tattooed by you

“Everyone” being you, Diavolo, and Lucifer because nobody else knows that it happened and he would like to keep it that way

Another member of the “I’ll get one as long as it’s somewhere nobody will see” club...so basically not his face

Before the two of you get to talking about designs, you expect him to go with something small and simple, maybe an elegant little teapot or something along those lines

Then this man comes to his consultation and throws you for a loop talking about a sleeve

Very picky, he has high standards for himself and what's on his body

Knows exactly what he wants but does his best not to stifle your creativity during the design process

You learn ALOT about just who lurks behind Barbatos’s mild-mannered butler facade during his sessions, he’s surprisingly upfront and honest whenever you have him under the needle

Solomon

Can't get a tattoo

This man has pact marks for 72 demons all over his body, there is simply no more room

Any open space he has is being saved just in case any other demons *cough* Lucifer *cough* ever decide to come around to making a pact

Collects your flash and hangs it up around his room

If you take Diavolo up on his offer to set up a shop in the Devildom, he will make sure to tell all of his pact-mates about you, hype up your work, and get you a lot of business in the door

Sometimes he will commission art from you and use magic to make your art temporarily appear on his skin over the pact marks

Once you become a sorcerer and have a better grasp on your magic, he helps you experiment in creating magical inks and enchanting tattoos

Asmodeus

The only one that actually doesn't want to get a tattoo

He doesnt think that tattoos would fit in very well to the image that he has for himself

And not being able to show off every inch of his beautiful skin while its healing is a no from him

Since he likes to test out his new makeup and skincare products on you, sometimes after he has had his way with your face he will let you draw on him with skin safe markers

would definitely be a wimp about the pain

Will spam pictures to his Devilgram of his fancy new temporary tattoos and you drawing on him

Will definitely try to bring you some of his flings to get his name tattooed on them, you will have to reprimand him every single time and eventually he will stop

If you're not the type to keep up with social media, he’ll offer to keep up a Devilgram account for your shop

If you're ever attempting to draw and you have a very specific pose in your head that you can't find a reference for, he will not hesitate to get up and start posing for you

Luke

He is baby and cant have any tattoos until he's older

His mind frequently bounces back and forth between the whole “your body is a temple” rhetoric that he was taught growing up and “wow that's so cool!”

After Simeon got his tattoo Luke became a lot more enthusiastic and curious about your job though

Will occasionally ask if he can have one of your flash sheets so he can color your pictures

These very often end up on the fridge in Purgatory Hall

Sometimes they even make their way to the fridge in the House of Lamentation too

Will this make the brothers jealous? Yes. Do you care? No.

Luke loves you and looks up to you so much that he goes through a little phase of wanting to copy you, yourself and the entirety of Purgatory Hall can expect loads of temporary marker tattoos

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #I tried very hard to not show my blatant favoritism #mission failed #for the most part I didn't actually describe any tattoos so people can have their own interpretations #but if anybody is interested i have ideas on what everybody's would look like

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aellynera · 3 years

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The Best Years of Your Life (Reeves x Reader)

THE BEST YEARS OF YOUR LIFE

(hey hey, this is my other submission for @wasicskosgirl and her 800 follower celebration! and yes, you read that right - it’s REEVES. i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it! CONGRATS Amanda!!)

Word Count: um like 6200ish oops it was supposed to be a blurb

Summary: They say the best years of your life happen in high school, but what do they know?

Warnings: Some language. Female reader implied but no pronouns/description. Teenage angst. Adult wistfulness. Mostly fluffy tho. No promises about proofreading. Frog murder.

with the prompt - “Like what you see?”

It all started back in high school. Sometimes you wonder how often people say that, and if it’s really true or they’re just falsely remembering how things happened because high school is supposed to be the best four years of your life.

But in this case, it’s true. Because high school is when you met Reeves.

Sophomore Year. High School. A Friday.

It was the third day of sophomore year, fourth period on a Friday morning, your last before the lunch break. Biology class was maybe the one you were least looking forward to, not exclusively because of the required frog dissection, but pretty damn close. Gross. And you never understood why the school year didn’t just start on a Monday, but you were new here in San Diego. Maybe they just did things differently.

It was bad enough being the new kid. It was worse when you walked into class halfway through the lecture, even if it wasn’t your fault. The timing of the move was weird, and you’d spent most of the first two days, and this morning, doing placement tests and talking to your counselor.

And now you were being called out in front of the entire class.

“Ah, there you are,” your teacher announced as you walked in the door. “Everyone, this is our new student, please make them feel welcome. You can sit over there.”

Your eyes followed as she motioned to the empty seat at the lab table in the back of the room. Suddenly you weren’t sure if your face felt hot because of embarrassment or because of the boy in the other chair.

Dark, curly hair cut close on the sides but longer on the top. Deep brown eyes framed by long, long lashes. Full, plush lips curling up into his cheek on one side. A nose that, okay, maybe might be a bit oversized but for some reason worked on his handsome face and--

Well, shit. Definitely not the embarrassment.

You shuffled your way to your seat and slid into it with your head down. A few students watched you curiously but soon turned their attention back to the lesson. You tried your best to focus on what was going on, to not look to your left at the distraction next to you.

You weren’t very successful.

By now you thought you’d sneaked enough covert glances to know that we was wearing a leather jacket, had a small diamond stud earring in his left ear, a bunch of silver-studded brown suede wrap bracelets around both wrists, a silver ring on his right index finger, and oddly precise handwriting as he took notes. In between relevant facts the teacher was sharing, he was doodling tiny music notes in the margins of his notebook.

And he totally caught you looking.

“Like what you see?” he leaned over and whispered.

Your mouth felt drier than the Sahara but also somehow so moist you were afraid you might have actually drooled on yourself. You should have opened your mouth to respond but your brain refused to make the connection. Probably for the best.

At least, at first. When it finally caught up to you, the only response your brain could provide was, “Maybe?”

Now would be the perfect time for the floor to swallow you whole.

He just winked at you and his attention went back to the doodles around his notes.

You shifted your gaze back to your own notebook, but you don’t know if anything else of importance was said, and don’t remember writing anything down. The bell ringing sharply pulled you back to reality and you hastily shoved your books in your backpack, ready to escape.

Just as you were about to leave, a voice called out. “Hey, sorry about earlier. If I freaked you out or anything.”

You looked up. He was smiling at you, a little shyly. You bit your lip, your brain and mouth still refusing to connect.

He stuck his hand out. “I’m Reeves. You’re new here?”

“Um…” you smacked yourself internally. This was ridiculous, you weren’t really shy, you knew how to have a conversation, he was just introducing himself. You were going to have a serious conversation with your brain later about proper communication techniques.

It felt like hours had passed, but you finally pulled yourself together enough to respond. “Yeah. My- my dad got transferred for work, we moved here like a week ago. He literally dragged the family across the country. I’m originally from New York City.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, cool! I always wanted to go to New York City!”

You found yourself smiling back.

“Do you...wanna sit with me at lunch?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe you could tell me a little about the city? And...about you, since we’re gonna have to commit heinous acts of violence on an amphibian together? I’d like to know who’s wielding a scalpel next to me.”

The giggle that escaped your throat could not be contained. This boy - Reeves - was adorable. “Oh. Okay, yeah. I’d really like that.”

The Present.

Poor Lenny the Frog never stood a chance. Then again, neither did you.

To be fair, Lenny was already dead when you and Reeves got your hands on him. Well, when you got your hands on him, because for the full first half of that specific class period, Reeves refused to touch him and nearly turned as green as Lenny once was. That’s when he insisted on naming your cadaver, because somehow giving it a name made it easier to deal with.

You were pretty sure Reeves was nuts.

By the middle of sophomore year, you were dead too, but not for the same reasons.

By the middle of sophomore year, you weren’t sure how you were still alive, because every time he looked over at you and gave you a sly smile during class, gave you that look, you felt your heart go taut and you forgot how to breathe and certainly, rightfully, should have been dead.

Your friend Alexis stuck her head into your bathroom. “Hey, we’re just waiting on Vanessa, and then we’re good to go. Drinks first? The show doesn’t start until 8 so we have time.”

You glanced up from your makeup and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Alexis grinned. “Aaaaaah I’m so glad you agreed to go out tonight! It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Oh, it’s gonna be something,” you muttered, going back to your eyeliner.

Alexis had been the first one to see the concert announcement about a week ago. A benefit show at one of the clubs down in Greenwich Village, some punk revival thing (for charity) with a bunch of different singers and musicians. Not normally your scene, but Alexis scanned through the names and suddenly remembered you’d known Reeves in high school. You said yes, he was in your class, and you’d been lab partners once. Vanessa squealed in excitement and Alexis announced you were going to the show. There was never any actual agreement.

Because of course Reeves was going to be there. And of course, you had to be too.

Junior Year. The Parking Lot. A Tuesday.

“I’m just saying, it was a ridiculous foul, and it should never have been called,” Reeves groused as you walked out of the gym.

“We also should have made like twenty more of our own foul shots,” you pointed out.

The Lake Howell Silverhawks had fallen to their arch-rivals in a somewhat glorious fashion. You didn’t even like basketball that much. But that didn’t really matter. The games were just an excuse to go out for burgers before and hang out with your friends during.

It was definitely an excuse to hang out with Reeves.

Junior year, you were both disappointed to find you didn’t have any classes together, but you still almost always ate lunch together. He’d come over to your house to study during the week and sometimes just to chill out on the weekends. Over the past year, he’d shown you all around the city and taken you to his favorite places. You told him all about New York, how you missed it and one day you’d go back, and all the famous sites and which ones were tourist traps that he was only allowed to visit the very first time and then never again.

You spent so much time together, even your mother liked to tease you about why he wasn’t your boyfriend.

It took a while for you to find the words to tell her it was because he was someone else’s.

As much as you liked to pretend she didn’t change anything, Randie Rustenberg changed everything. It was gradual, like a creeping vine of ivy, and she slowly took him over. There was no malice; it was just one of those things that happened. Reeves spent less time with you, his best friend, and more time with Randie, his girlfriend.

The girlfriend you desperately wished was you, because ever since that first biology class you’d had the biggest, stupidest crush on him.

Eventually you had a boyfriend of your own. Theo was a nice guy, he really was. Polite, friendly, had a good sense of humor, liked your family. And your family loved him. Your mother was so happy that you had a boyfriend, she seemed to forget to ask how Reeves was and if you’d seen him lately.

Of course you saw him. You saw him every day, in the cafeteria, at his locker, passing by in the halls. Sometimes you could find him playing the grand piano on the stage in the empty auditorium. Yes, if your mother bothered to ask, you saw Reeves all the time. Now it was just always with her.

Except this week. It was a break of sorts, no classes, just some sports and other school activities. Randie was on some trip with her parents for some kind of church function, and Theo was fishing with his dad on some lake up north. He’d told you where, but you honestly couldn’t be bothered to recall. So when a bunch of your friends and a bunch of his friends all said everyone was going to the basketball game, there was no debate.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

Sometime during the game, your friends wandered off to the snack bar and never ventured back. His friends started a game of hacky-sack under the bleachers. And you found yourself pretending to understand all the finer points about hoops strategy, cheering and yelling along with Reeves and having a great time, just like you used to.

“Where’d you park?” he asked as you left the gym and headed out into the sea of cars. You vaguely pointed in the direction of yours and he grinned. “Oh, good, I’m that way too. Come on, I’ll walk you.”

The faint glow emitted by the lampposts in the parking lot bounced off his curls and his eyes, when you could catch a glimpse, were bright beneath them.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

The walk wasn’t very far, but it felt like it was over in a second. You hadn’t said anything on the way, just soaked in the comfort of walking next to him as he kept commenting on the game.

He was waving his hands everywhere, looking at them as he talked as if his hand motions would make things make any more sense to you, in the middle of saying something about your center and how they needed to get better about blocking out when you finally spoke.

“Oh, shit.”

Reeves looked up at you. “What, you don’t agree?”

You dropped your bag on the ground and rolled your eyes. “No, my car is locked and I left my keys inside.” You pointed to the passenger seat. Your keys stared back at you derisively.

You both stared back at them for a moment, then he grinned. “Hang on, I got you.” He held up one finger and trotted off to his car, coming back a minute later with something in his hand. “This should take care of it.”

You took a step back. “Reeves? Um. Okay, why do you have a coat hanger in your car.”

He rolled his eyes back at you. “For emergencies, duh.” He quickly twisted the hanger into a hook shape and went to your passenger side window.

“And why do you know how to break into a car with said coat hanger?”

“Like I told you,” his tongue poked out between his teeth as he worked, “for emergencies. You think I haven’t locked my own keys in my car once or six times?”

“Did Randie teach you how to do this?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think. She probably had. She might have been churchy when required, but she was also responsible for about half of Reeves’s stints in detention (the other half just being him making the wrong joke at the wrong time and pissing a teacher off.)

Thank god he didn’t seem to hear you as he kept working at the lock. Finally you heard a *click* and he pumped a fist into the air with a little “yessss!”

And then you’re not really sure what happened. You bent down to pick up your bag and then you were standing up and Reeves’s face was literally about three inches away from yours and for the eight thousandth time since you’d know him, you forgot how to breathe.

Neither of you said anything for what felt like days. You just stared at each other under the dim halo of the parking lot lights.

“Here you go.” He took your hand and dropped your keys into it.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

“Like what you see?” the corners of his mouth quirked up, just the slightest little bit.

“...Maybe.”

And the staring recommenced. Were you two getting closer? Physically closer, you meant, of course you were close, you’d always been close. Well, at one time you were really close but then Randie Restenberg happened and it wasn’t fair that she got to know what those lips felt like and did he always smell this good or--

“Yo, Reeves!” A pickup truck full of guys skidded to a stop behind your car and one of his friends - Jake? Jack? you barely remembered your own name right now - stuck his head out the window. “Fight to the death ping pong tourney at Matt’s house! You in?”

Reeves bit his lip and closed his eyes for a second before he pulled back with a soft “I’m sorry” before turning to his friends. “Um, yeah, sure. Sounds brutal. I’ll meet you there.”

The pickup sped off, tires screeching out of the parking lot. Reeves turned back to you, but you’d already gotten into your now unlocked car and started the engine.

You rolled down the window a fraction and gave him a weak smile. “Hey, um. Thanks for saving my butt. Now go kick theirs at ping pong, yeah?” Your face felt so hot, and for once you were grateful for the dim lights in the lot.

“You could, um, come along if- if you want.”

“Nah, I’m...I’m tired, I’m just gonna...um, head home. But I’ll see you tomorrow maybe?”

Reeves looked like he was about to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stepped onto the curb in front of your car, smiled, and raised his hand in a little wave as he watched you drive off.

The Present.

A series of shrieks and the slamming of the door told you Vanessa had finally arrived. It sounded like they were jumping up and down on the tile just inside your front door, which was ridiculous since you’d all just seen each other the day before. But typical.

You smoothed a pinkie under your eye, checked your makeup one final time, and went into the living room.

“Oh, you look hot,” Vanessa gushed. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and plopped down on your couch. “Who are you trying to impress tonight?”

“Reeves, of course,” Alexis laughed, leaning on the kitchen counter. She sorted anything she might need from her big purse into a little evening bag as she talked. “You know we go to all his shows. And you know they went to high school together.”

You snorted. “That was a long time ago. I’m not even sure he’d remember me.”

Vanessa waggled her eyebrows. “You’re probably right, No offense, honey, but no one was that hot back in high school.”

He was, your brain supplied. Very helpful. You smiled wanly.

Vanessa continued. “But you were friends, right? You’ve never really talked about it. God, it must be so cool now to think that you were friends with Reeves back when he was an awkward high school teenager.”

“Reeves was never awkward,” you laugh. “It was kind of unfair.”

“But you totally had a crush on him,” Alexis offered.

Had? What do you mean, had? Oh my god, shut up, brain.

A pillow flew in your direction and you ducked as Vanessa giggled and Alexis rolled her eyes. “Come on, tell us something about him,” Vanessa goaded. “Wait. Was he, like, your prom date? That’s your secret! You totally went to prom with Reeves and you never told us!”

Senior Year. Prom. A Saturday.

The night was not supposed to go this way.

It was supposed to be limousines and corsages and dinner with dates and friends. It was supposed to be endless pictures while your mother told you how gorgeous you looked and how handsome he was and your father gave a thinly-veiled shovel talk about how he knew what happens on prom night and what would really happen if that actually happened. It was supposed to be punch and cookies and balloons. It was supposed to be dancing closer than the chaperones were comfortable with and kissing with tongue when they weren’t looking.

It was supposed to be the best night of your life. It was supposed to be fun.

Nowhere in your weeks of dreaming of this night did it involve sitting on a bench in the girls’ locker room, knees pulled up to your chest, while the party carried on in the gym just beyond.

It definitely didn’t involve crying.

The bass beats of the deejay and the harmony of laughter temporarily got louder as the locker room door opened, and then faded back into a muted thumping as the door closed again a second later. You could hear footsteps headed in your direction but before you could unfold yourself and wipe your tears away, a familiar voice called out.

“Hey, there you are!”

Being able to find the words to describe how he looked in his tux, his curls slightly tamed by some gel, the blue rose (of course it would be an off color, why would he pick something standard?) pinned to his lapel, his lopsided grin… Finding the words was nearly impossible.

Of course he would show up now. Because your night wasn’t already crappy enough and half the reason you were sitting there weeping instead of out there dancing was standing right in front of you.

You realized that wasn’t fair. It was probably more like, twenty-five percent of the reason, and it wasn’t his fault. But that didn’t make it any better.

“Why are you in the girls’ locker room, Reeves?” you sniffled.

He furrowed his eyebrows and his nose scrunched up in concern as he took in your mascara-streaked cheeks and puffy red eyes. “One of your friends said you came in here like half an hour ago and nobody’s seen you since. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly not.” He sat down next to you. “Wanna talk about it?”

A deep, shaky sign left your chest. You didn’t really want to talk about how, earlier in the evening, you’d excused yourself to use the restroom and come back to the gym to find Theo dancing with...you didn’t remember her name, nor did you care. You didn’t mind that he was dancing with another girl, in theory, but it was another matter entirely when his hands were on her ass and she was sucking a deep purple mark into his neck. And he was laughing.

A short, vicious argument ensued in the coat room after you’d cut in and dragged him off by the elbow. And it turned out that he’d been seeing whats-her-name for months, somehow, behind your back while pretending that everything was perfect with you. When he was supposedly visiting his grandparents? He was with her. When he had to work an extra shift? He was with her. When he got off the phone with you, saying he needed to get to bed early? He was calling her.

Prom wasn’t supposed to involve a very public break-up.

And things didn’t get any better when, deciding you needed something to drink, you went back into the gym and immediately saw Reeves and Randie, dancing cheek to cheek, arms snugly wrapped around each other as a soft, romantic song wafted through the air. Because of course he was with her. She was his girlfriend and Reeves wasn’t a detestable cheating asshole.

There was always another her.

You couldn’t handle it.

So you took off to somewhere almost guaranteed to be empty. You figured the locker room wasn’t really the kind of place kids would want to make out, and you were right. It was blessedly empty. Until now.

But you couldn’t tell him the second part, so you just went with the first. His eyes got wide as you blubbered through the sordid details of Theo being a complete and utter twat. Another quivery sob half-burst from you and Reeves got up. He grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to you as he sat back down.

“Thanks,” you hiccuped.

“I never liked him,” Reeves announced.

You found yourself choking on a huff of air. “What? Yes you did! Everybody loved him. That’s what makes it extra shitty.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

Reeves cocked his head and looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “Did you love him?”

Your mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Why did you always seem to forget how to make words when Reeves asked you questions?

“What?”

He shrugged. “Everyone else loved him. Did you?”

You used every last ounce of willpower you had to not jump up on that bench and shout that of course you didn’t love Theo, you idiot, because I love you.

That would not make this night any easier.

The next thing you knew, Reeves put an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, hugging you soundly. He rested his cheek on the top of your head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re better off without him.”

You dabbed at your eyes. Nope, still couldn’t make words.

Minutes, hours, days. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, pressed to him and feeling him breathe beneath you. You no longer had any idea how long it had even been since everything crashed around you and he’d come to try and help you pick up the pieces. You just listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady, as the muffled music and joyful shouts of classmates went on past the closed door.

Finally he spoke again. “Hey, you wanna get one of those complimentary pictures?”

“What?” Oh, great. You were finally able to answer his question but you could still only come up with that one word? Stupid brain.

“Well, I…” he sat up straight and, after the briefest look into your eyes, he glanced away. Was he blushing? You weren’t sure. “I always kind of...I kind of thought we’d have a prom picture together. I mean, I just figured, y’know, we’d go with a bunch of friends, but I always hoped I’d get a picture with my best friend.”

The sniffles were back in an instant. Damn him. “Reeves, I...you really want to get a picture now? I look horrible, I can’t get a picture taken like this!”

He took the paper towel from your hand and gently dabbed at your cheeks. “You couldn’t look horrible if you tried. Come on, it’ll be fun. And just think how excited your mom will be when she gets a copy of it.”

Despite your best efforts, you had to laugh. “Okay.”

You headed to the photo area after you washed your face, Reeves helped you wipe off the stray streaks of mascara, and you reapplied just a bit of makeup to make yourself feel better. You were never sure what Reeves said to the photographer before the shots, but he seemed quite happy to take multiples. Reeves stayed pressed against your back with his arms down around your waist, hands clasped together in front of you, for each and every one.

At some point between the second and third shot, he leaned just a little closer into you and you suddenly felt his breath against your ear. “Like what you see?”

For maybe the first time that entire night, your face broke into a genuine smile. “Maybe.”

For a few minutes, your night was absolutely perfect.

The Present.

It was the greatest date that never was.

“No, Reeves was not my prom date,” you told your friends with a shake of your head.

You left out most of the other details, partly because you didn’t want to answer eight hundred questions from Vanessa and partly because, well, you just wanted those moments for yourself.

After the pictures, Reeves had asked if you would like to dance. Until then you didn’t realize it was possible for eyebrows to shoot that far up a person’s forehead, but yours were up for the challenge. You’d mumbled something about if Randie would mind, because you were sure she absolutely would, but he brushed it off. Randie had gone off with her friends when he came to find you, and he really wanted to dance with you, just one dance with his frog murder accomplice. And he said that with a straight face and a twinkle in his eye and there was no way you could refuse.

As if there was any way you’d say no.

One dance turned into two, and then several, until the girlfriend in question finally did show back up and Reeves was pulled away, leaving you with a soft smile and a mouthed “sorry”.

Definitely the greatest never-date.

After prom, life returned to what vaguely resembled normal. Your love life sucked and Reeves still had a girlfriend that wasn’t you, and you didn’t see him much. To be fair, the end of senior year and graduation did creep up pretty fast so there wasn’t a lot of time anyway. Graduation was there before you knew it; he cheered for you and you cheered for him as you each walked across the stage. You made brief appearances at each others’ graduation parties and talked a bit and then, once again before you knew what happened next, it was time to leave for college.

You went back to New York. Reeves stayed on the west coast.

And over the years, like so many other people before you and after you, you just fell out of touch.

“And anyway,” you asserted, “we were just kind of friends. Yeah, like I told Alexis before, we were lab partners sophomore year, and we hung out sometimes, but that was it. Really.”

Alexis snorted and Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm.”

You threw the pillow back at her. “Mmmhmm.”

“All right, you two,” Alexis chided. “Come on, let’s get going.”

Somehow, you managed to get down to Greenwich Village without further interrogation and minimal shenanigans.

The Present. One Hour Later. Another Saturday Night.

The bar inside the club was pretty packed. Granted, it was a Saturday night down in The Village, so it wasn’t too uncommon, but you were honestly surprised that this many people showed up for a punk retrospective.

There were a few other relatively big-name acts you recognized on the bill, and a fair number of people were wearing t-shirts with Reeves’s most recent album cover on the front. There were even a few that had shirts with his face on it, which was frankly kind of weird.

“Looks like you’re not his only number one fan,” Vanessa smirked.

“I just enjoy his music,” you said off-handedly as you tried to flag down a bartender. “But anyway, tonight isn’t even about him. We’re just here to support charity, right?”

Alexis pretended to agree with you. “Right.”

You glared at both of them before turning your attention back to the bar. Yes, you came to every one of his shows in the area. When you had time. When you could take the night off. When you could rearrange your schedule and switch shifts at the last minute and promise favors to be able to attend them. When you maybe once or twice just called out sick because nothing else worked. So what.

They were really starting to get on your nerves.

The bartender finally noticed you and took your order, and you looked around the club again while you waited.

Lots of people, ranging from just-allowed-to-buy-booze to mid-sixties businessmen. A few folks that looked to currently be in their golden years but were clearly once punks in their prime. Many people in black and chains and mohawks and neon hair and piercings, to the point where you honestly couldn’t tell who was a performer and who was a patron.

The one person you were looking for was the one that you couldn’t pick out of the crowd.

“He’s gotta be here somewhere!” Vanessa’s voice shouted from somewhere behind your shoulder.

“Vanessa, you’re getting a little weird about this,” you called back as you grabbed your drink and turned around.

“Like what you see?”

Eyes wide and mouth slightly hanging open, you almost dropped your full glass.

Vaguely, nearby, you heard the sound of glass shattering and shot a glance to your left. Alexis really had dropped her drink, and Vanessa was clutching onto her arm for dear life. She was holding her glass at a slightly odd angle and the contents were dripping onto one of her shoes.

The crowd silently pulsed backwards as one, clearing out around the four of you for a respectable distance. Several people watched curiously; surprisingly, they just stood back and stared instead of trying to get involved.

Reason Number One why you really couldn’t blame them: Reeves stood there, right in front of you. Literally less than two feet away, looking right at you. His mouth pulled up into his familiar lopsided grin, his hair still dark but shot through with strands of silver, curly on the top and shorter on the sides. His nose with the little dent, perfect on his face under those dark, luminous brown eyes and...holy shit, was he wearing eyeliner? He was wearing eyeliner.

Reason Number Two why you really couldn’t blame them: Leather pants. Under his old, faded t-shirt and black leather jacket (you were used to seeing him in brown, but you had to admit the black looked good) he was wearing leather pants.

Reason Number Three why you really couldn’t blame them: Quite simply, Reeves was standing in the middle of a bar in New York City and he was talking to you.

You blinked once, then twice. You may have blinked more times but all you could think about was the fact that, after all these years, your brain still couldn’t make words when Reeves asked you a question.

That same old question.

Suddenly you were grinning back, completely ignoring your friends and their dumbfounded squawking and sputtering next to you. You were smiling because even though your brain couldn’t make full sentences of words, it could pull one particular word out of the void and let it come out past your lips.

“Maybe.”

Reeves grinned fully now, his eyes lighting up and the crinkles at the corners deepening.

Someone - maybe Vanessa, maybe a total stranger, you couldn’t be sure - might have swooned from the sidelines.

“Always told you I wanted to come to New York,” he said.

“Always told you I’d go back.”

And the next thing you knew, the next thing that made any sense anywhere in your mind, was that Reeves had stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and placed the softest, sweetest, most heart-achingly gentle kiss on your lips.

You pulled away in a daze, felt the heat rising in your cheeks, as you heard a muffled choking sound halfway behind you. Definitely Vanessa.

Alexis and Vanessa’s eyes, already bugging out of their faces, nearly fell out of their sockets when Reeves turned to address them.

“Hey, ladies. I’ll come talk to you after the show, but for now, I just need to borrow your friend for a few minutes, okay?”

There were somehow still more bizarre, mostly inhuman noises that came out of your friends and even later, when they’d deny ever acting like that in front of a famous rock star (and rolled their eyes at you when you corrected them that he was a musician, not a rock star), it wouldn’t matter because you weren’t paying a single bit of attention to them them anyway.

You only had eyes for one person.

He took your hand and pulled you past the bar, into a little room in the back; the office, presumably. The second you were both inside, he wrapped his arms around your waist and looked you in the eyes. He just stared for a few minutes, or maybe hours, you weren’t sure.

It really didn’t matter.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he whispered.

“Third day of school, fourth period biology class, sophomore year?”

Reeves smiled softly. “The second you walked in that door.”

“Why didn’t you?” you tilted your head to look at him. Okay, to gaze into his eyes. You tilted your head to gaze into his eyes and your subconscious hoped to any gods that would listen that you did not have actual hearts or stars in your pupils.

Not that it really mattered.

His arms never left you but he gave a little shrug. “Never seemed to be the right time. And then I had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “And I ended up with that lame excuse for a boyfriend. But do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?”

“When you couldn’t stop staring at me when you sat down at the lab table next to me?”

“Hmmm, maybe. But definitely when you told the teacher we had to have a funeral for Lenny.”

“Hey, Lenny was a fuckin’ hero,” Reeves batted his eyes at you innocently. “He performed a brave and great service to his country.”

“I am oddly happy you’re still an idiot,” you giggled.

“I’m ecstatic that you kept coming to all my shows in the city.”

You pulled back slightly and looked at the ceiling. “You noticed?”

Reeves gave you that look. That look he always gave you, when you were teenagers, when you said something either completely ridiculous or completely profound. That look he gave you when he thought you might not be looking, even though you were always looking. That look that said he always had your back and you were his best friend. That look that you thought you’d be lucky to see one more time but probably never would.

That look.

“Of course I noticed. I thought about having security make you stay back, but that’s just...no. You always looked happy, and I don’t know...I just didn’t want to intrude, I guess? Just always wondered why you never stuck around after the shows, never stayed to talk to me, never came knocking on the dressing room door.”

You thought about that for a minute. You really did try, but you couldn’t come up with a decent answer. You were happy. Just seeing him was enough, you told yourself. Just hearing him sing was enough, just being in the same room with him, just being near. Just like it was back in high school.

Only it wasn’t high school anymore, and now that he’d finally, finally - after years of would’ve and should’ve and maybes - kissed you, you knew enough wasn’t going to be, well, enough.

So that’s what you told him.

And Reeves pulled you close, leaned in closer, and kissed you again.

You pulled apart, breathless again, and rested your foreheads together.

After minutes, or maybe days, or maybe hours, and definitely years - it didn’t really matter - Reeves was there. You were there. And for once, you were really there together.

“Like what you see?”

“...definitely.”

The Future. Any Day. Every Day.

You always thought, and your friends always said, that the best years of your life happened in high school. And to a certain extent, that was true and you believed in that notion for a very long time.

But ever since that night, that one glorious night in a Manhattan bar, you realized you were wrong.

The best years of your life were still happening.

~end~

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emy-loves-you · 3 years

Text

Accessories and Crushes

This is Day 1 of the TSUS Challenge: Dukexiety!

Summary: Remus buys some jewelry to make himself look good and impress his crush, Virgil. But why does he look so upset by that?

Pairings: Dukexiety, background Roceit

Word Count: 3769

Warnings: Bullying, stealing, miscommunication, implied violence, blood

"C'mon boys! You need to leave now or you'll be late!"

"Coming Mom!" Both boys called out, Roman from the bathroom and Remus from his bedroom. The green-clad twin had finished putting on his makeup and was now frowning at his reflection. Something was missing. There was some part of his style that was incomplete. It had been missing for a while now, and because of it Remus looked incomplete. Bland. Boring. And he couldn't tell what was missing. He'd tried switching out his makeup palette (Roman had so many leftover, since he liked to do his own makeup in theater. He wouldn't miss this one), he tried different outfit styles, he even tried things that he never imagined wearing like skirts and high heels, but nothing felt right. Maybe I need new accessories?

There was a knock on his door and Roman poked his head in, a lopsided grin on his face. "C'mon, we gotta go before mom kills us."

Remus scoffed, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Psh, I've been ready. I was waiting for you, prettyboy. How many hours did you spend in the bathroom this time?"

Roman made a sound that their mutual friend (and Roman's crush) Janus dubbed an 'offended Princey noise' as they walked out of their house. "First of all, low blow. You can't just use that nickname-"

Remus snorted. "Of course I can. Just not in front of Janny.” Janus had made up the nickname years ago, and Remus constantly teased Roman with it. (Honestly, Remus was halfway tempted to lock the two of them in a closet and leave them there until they either made out or beat each other up)

Roman continued as they approached the school. “Secondly, I’ll have you know that every moment I spend in that bathroom is absolutely vital to my daily routine.”

Remus smirked. “Yeah? Even the 20 minutes you spend just belting out romantic Disney songs to your reflection?”

Roman blushed but didn’t back down. “Yes.”

“Hmm, a blushing Roman. The perfect way to start my morning.” Janus suddenly slinked up behind them, throwing his arm up over Roman’s shoulder.

Roman groaned, blushing harder. “I can never tell when you’re being sarcastic and when you’re being genuine.”

Janus chuckled softly. “If you knew, it wouldn’t be nearly as fun to do.”

The bell rang and Remus groaned. “Gotta go. Catch ya later.” He quickly made his way to his first class, silently glad to be rid of the two hopeless lovebirds. He got to his class with 5 minutes to spare and was going to play on his phone and ignore everyone like he usually did when he saw a flash of green out of the corner of his eye.

On one of the student’s desk was an ornate wooden box, filled to the brim with hand-crafted jewelry. The student in question, Jacob Smith, was currently counting a large stack of cash as he waited for the bell to ring. Remus got up to look at the jewelry and he smirked. “Hey, Prince. I’m selling my sister’s hand-made jewelry. Like anything you see?”

Remus glanced down at the jewelry. There were dozens of accessories in a ton of different colors, but there were a few that caught Remus’ eye. There was a matching set of 2 bracelets, a ring, a chain necklace, a choker, and a pair of earrings. They were all a metallic dark green with black and dark purple accents. Remus looked at the prices Jacob had given the jewelry and winced. They were all super expensive, but they were also high quality and hand-crafted, so Remus wasn’t going to complain.

Jacob smirked as Remus paid for the jewelry, about to say something when the bell ringed. Remus sighed and put the jewelry away, grabbing his notebook to take notes. Even though Remus was the school’s resident ‘bad boy,’ he still liked to keep his grades up. Remus hated that he was always stereotyped as lazy and dumb. Yes, he regularly punched homophobes and transphobes. Yes, he tended to struggle in English because metaphors were bullshit. But that wasn’t his fault! There were only a handful of people that Remus wouldn’t immediately punch their teeth in for calling him dumb, and only three of them went to this school. Of course, there was Roman and Janus, but there was another person who was allowed to insult Remus, even if he never did.

Eventually, lunchtime rolled around, and Remus ignored his usual routine of vandalizing homophobic lockers to instead go put on his jewelry in the bathroom. He spent the whole 15 minutes making sure that the jewelry looked perfect and his make up was flawless. He had someone to impress, after all.

A few more hours passed and Remus was finally in his last class of the day, impatiently waiting to see his crush walk through the door. Virgil Storm, resident emo and snarky introvert. He and Remus were forced to work on an English paper together last year, and now he liked to sit next to Remus during class. Remus knew this was only so they could work together on creative writing assignments, but a part of Remus dreamed that Virgil sat next to Remus because liked Remus, not just tolerated him.

When Virgil finally walked through the door, seconds before the bell was supposed to ring, Remus barely resisted the urge to grin and wave frantically like an overexcited puppy. Instead, he gave his meat flirtatious smirk, angling his body to show off as much of his new jewelry as possible. Instead of smiling (or blushing like Remus fantasized), Virgil froze in place. He gave Remus a look that made his heart sink. He looked… betrayed? That didn’t make sense. But before Remus could get up and ask what was wrong, the bell rang and Virgil took a seat in the front of the classroom, away from Remus.

Now, most people would be able to see that Virgil was upset before he even walked into the room. They would realize that Virgil isn’t having a good day, and would give him some space until he was ready to talk to them.

Remus is not most people.

He spent the entire class staring at Virgil, several pencils snapping as he pretended to take notes. Virgil slouched forward, ignoring Remus’s gaze burning holes in his hoodie. When the class ended, Virgil practically ran out the door. Remus growled and stuffed his things into his bag, shooting a quick text to Roman.

Re- (2:21 PM) Staying after, go on without me

He turned off his phone, not waiting for a response as he stalked out the door. He knew that Virgil didn’t take the bus, and Remus had a feeling that the emo hadn’t left the school yet. He probably didn’t go to his locker, and he hated all of the teachers, which left-

Remus slammed the bathroom door open, Virgil jumping from the sudden sound. He was hovering over the sink, his face red and puffy from crying. His shock quickly morphed into anger as he glared at Remus. “What do you want? Here to rub it all in my face?”

Remus growled, ready to rip his own hair out. Or Virgil’s. He hadn’t decided yet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Virgil barked out a laugh, and Remus ignored how beautiful Virgil looked, even when angry. “Wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! I thought you were my friend!”

A part of Remus’ heart broke at his crush calling him just a ‘friend,’ but the rest of his heart shattered as he processed what the emo said. “Of fucking course I’m your friend!”

Virgil glared at Remus, pointing at him accusingly. “Then why the hell are you wearing those?!”

Remus looked down at his jewelry, which he had bought and put on just to impress Virgil. They had to be what he was talking about, since it was the only significant change to Remus’s normal outfit. He actually liked this jewelry a whole lot. And now his asshole crush was getting pissy about it. “What’s wrong with me wearing jewelry, huh? You got a fucking problem with it?”

Virgil growled, slamming his fist onto the countertop. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it, dumbass! I’m not stupid, I know where you got those!”

Remus huffed. “You got something against Jacob? I know the guy’s an asshole, but are you seriously gonna hate me for buying his little sister’s jewelry?”

Virgil froze, his hands gripping the bathroom counter like a death grip. “Little sister? So you didn’t know?”

Remus was confused, but he was still more irritated than anything. “Didn’t know what? What the fuck are you talking about?!”

Virgil stayed quiet for a moment before he started screaming. “THAT SON OF A BITCH!” He slammed his fists back on the counter, fresh tears rolling down his face.

Remus rushed forward, pinning Virgil’s wrists down so he couldn’t hurt himself. No matter how pissed he was, Remus couldn’t see his crush get hurt. “What the fuck is going on, Virgil?”

Virgil froze again, looking away. “It’s none of your business. Just leave me alone.”

Remus growled, adding pressure to Virgil’s wrists, ignoring the way he winced. “Not this time, emo. You can’t just accuse me and say we aren’t friends, then tell me to fuck off when I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” He stepped closer, not giving him any room to squirm away. “So we’re not going anywhere until you’ve told me what’s going on.” Virgil looked away, and Remus growled. “You said that we’re friends, right? Then fucking treat me like one.”

There were a few moments of silence between them before Virgil sighed looking away, mumbling. “My name’s on ‘em.”

Remus’s grip loosened, confused. “Huh?”

Virgil groaned, pulling himself out of Remus’ hold and grabbing him by the wrist, removing his bracelet with practiced ease. He showed Remus the inside of the bracelet, where V.S. was stitched into the fabric. “Jacob’s little sister’s name is Sally. That’s my name. I sewed and etched it into every product.”

Remus stared for a minute until it hit him. “Did you make these?”

Virgil blushed and nodded. “Yeah, I sell them online. They take forever to make but it’s fun and I make a good amount of money off of it.” He huffed. “I shouldn’t of brought them to school. Yesterday Jacob had found me and was be-” he coughed “was talking to me, and he found them in my backpack. Said he would sell them for me, and in exchange I wouldn’t leave with a broken nose. All of the popular kids knew that I made them, because they bought a ton and flashed it off in front of me in the hallways.” He sniffled and wiped his tears away with his hoodie sleeve. “I… I thought you knew too. I thought you were like them.”

Remus stared for a few minutes before getting out his wallet. “How much do you normally charge for these?”

Virgil sputtered. “W-what? You don’t-”

Remus growled. “I know I don’t have to. Now. How. Much. Do. You. Charge?”

Virgil rambled off the price and Remus frowned. That wasn’t even half of what Jacob had charged for them. Still, he paid the price that Virgil listed before opening a backpack and grabbing a notebook and pen. “Do you know everything that he took? And how much you usually charge for them?” Virgil nodded softly, still a little mystified. “Can you write them down? Or if you have a picture it would be helpful.”

Virgil carefully wrote them all down, giving descriptions of each piece of jewelry and their worth. Remus nearly growled when he read the list. Virgil was missing almost $200 worth of jewelry, and based on Jacob’s prices, the asshole was going to make at least a $500 profit from all of this.

Remus took back his notebook and put it away, giving his crush one last look. “I promise I didn’t know about any of this, but now I’m going to fix it. Here,” he grabbed Virgil’s wrist and scribbled something on the back of his hand “here’s my number. If those assholes try something like this again, give me a call and I’ll go punch their teeth in.”

Virgil looked away. “You don’t have to…”

Remus chuckled. “Punch their teeth in? It’s kind of my signature move by this point. It would be a shame if I didn’t.”

The emo blushed, finding his shoelaces to be more interesting than looking Remus in the eye. “You don’t have to be so nice to me.”

Remus shook his head. “You earned my niceness, fair and square. You’re my friend, Emo. Do you know how many people get to call me that and mean it?” He snorted. “Do you know how many people get to call me a dumbass without immediately getting their bones broken? It’s a very short list.” He sauntered out of the bathroom, stopping as he reached the door. “You mean a lot to me V. And I’m gonna make these assholes pay.” He didn’t look to see Virgil’s reaction as he walked away, one goal in mind: make Jacob Smith’s life a living hell.

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Virgil went to class the next day, still in a slight state of shock. He felt numb all over, like he’d been drenched in ice water and was still dealing with the aftershocks. A lot had happened in the past 2 days, and he wanted nothing more than to lay down for a nap and not wake up until it all blew over.

Yesterday was awful. Usually Jacob just beat him up and went along his merry way, but instead he decided to ruin one of the few things that made Virgil happy. Jewelry making had been his passion for years, and seeing dozens of bullies showing him their new jewelry with a vindictive smirk, and knowing they were his but he wasn’t making a single penny, hurt him more than any punch or kick ever could.

But what hurt was seeing his only friend (and crush) sitting in the back of the room, showing off the jewelry that Virgil had specifically made with him in mind. Remus had been smirking, just like the bullies had as they flaunted off their jewelry, and Virgil had felt his heart break into a million pieces.

But that was yesterday. Today was a new day, and Virgil was wanting to crawl into a whole and never come out. Everyone would still be buying and showing off Virgil’s jewelry, some knowing where it came from, others having no idea. Jacob would probably come to beat Virgil up when he ran out of jewelry to sell, demanding more products that Virgil refused to make. He wasn’t going to spend all of his time on these products just to put money in Jacob’s pockets. And to top it all off, his friendship with Remus was probably ruined. Judging by how he acted yesterday, Remus would probably get upset if Virgil tried to distance himself again. But he was dreading the day where Remus would realize that Virgil wasn’t worth a decent English grade and tell him to fuck off.

Virgil was late to school today, so he didn’t actually realize that something was amiss until around lunch. No one had come up to Virgil to show off their jewelry, and a lot of students were staring at the emo as he walked by. When he took a closer look, he realized that the kids who had shown off their jewelry to him yesterday weren’t wearing them anymore, and some of them were sporting some nasty bruises. The ones who were wearing them were constantly staring at Virgil and… smiling? That was weird. But as Virgil sat down to eat his food another, more important question arose.

Where’s Jacob? And Remus?

His questions were answered in English class, where he overheard two students chatting as Virgil stepped in. Apparently Jacob and Remus had gotten into a fight and were now suspended. Virgil sat back in his normal spot, ignoring how the room went quiet as the ice water feeling returned with a vengeance. Remus got into a fight? Over him? That didn’t make any sense. Just the fact that Remus apologized and paid Virgil his debt for the jewelry was more than Virgil deserved. But the fact that Remus got into a fight with Jacob, because Jacob stole from Virgil, made something in his chest stutter. It made his heart race and his breath stop for a minute. Keep it cool Virgil, it’s not like someone as cool as Remus would ACTUALLY like you. His fight probably had nothing to do with me.

“Um, Virgil?” Virgil looked up at the random student next to him. Bethany, his brain half-heartedly supplied, still in a half state of shock. She was fiddling with the bracelets on her wrist, and it took Virgil a moment to realize they were his bracelets. “I-uh… I wanted to say sorry for what happened. Jacob told us he had brought those bracelets from home. We had no idea they were yours.” She pulled out her wallet. “Can I repay you for it? Or maybe buy more to make up for it?”

Virgil shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. You already had to pay a stupidly high amount to Jacob, you shouldn’t have to waste more on me. I’ll be behind for a while on money, but I’ll get back up there eventually.” He blushed. “But if you want to buy more…” He scribbled down a url on his notebook paper and handed it to Bethany. “I have a website where you can customize your jewelry. It’ll take around a month or two depending on what it is, but I’ll have it done and shipped to your address as soon as it’s done.”

She took the paper and smiled gratefully. “Thank you so much! See you later Virgil!” She went back to her gaggle of friends, showing them the website url as they took pictures and typed it into their phones. Virgil smiled softly, glad to have at least a few potential customers after this.

When class was over, Virgil quickly grabbed his stuff from his locker and walked out the door. He was making his usual journey across the football field and towards the neighborhood when a familiar figure waved in the distance. Remus was underneath one of the bleachers, a familiar box in one hand and his backpack on the ground. Virgil ran over and hissed. “What are you doing here? You’re suspended right now! If they catch you on school grounds you’ll be expelled!”

Remus chuckled. “As if that would stop me from visiting my favorite emo.” Virgil flushed and looked at the wooden box. Remus suddenly perked up as he held out the box. “I got you your stuff back!” He sounded like an overexcited puppy and Virgil bit back a giggle, instead taking the box. He frowned when his hand came back wet.

“Uh, Remus?” He looked at his hand and cringed.

Remus tilted his head to the side, still resembling a puppy as he excitedly spoke. “Yeah?”

Virgil showed Remus the box. “This box is wet.”

“Yeah?”

“...With blood.”

“Yeah?”

“...Is it your blood?”

“I don’t think so!”

Virgil nodded, wiping his hand on his black skinny jeans. “Okay… thank you. It-” he looked away, blushing. “It means a lot to me.” He opened the box, looking at the contents. Around a third of the original jewelry was in the box, most of it he vaguely remembered the bullies wearing yesterday.

Remus smiled brightly, bouncing slightly as he grabbed his backpack. “That’s not even the best part! Look what I found while beating that asshole up!” Virgil hesitated before opening the bag, the not-so-nice part of him imagining Jacob himself shoved into the bag. Instead, the bag was filled to the brim with cash. Virgil stared at the money in shock while Remus explained. “That’s everything that he earned for selling your jewelry. He charged for a lot more than you did, but now you’ve made all of your money back and then some!”

Virgil tried to count the money at a glance, but his head started to spin after a minute. “Remus. How much money is in here?”

He giggled. “Almost $600. Jacob got a lot of money selling your stuff. He also had an extra 50 bucks that I added to the pot as compensation.”

Virgil nearly dropped the backpack in shock. He’d never had that much money before. This is it. I can actually start a business with this money. I can throw it into my bank account and actually have a chance at making jewelry after high school. At least as a side-job. He looked up at his crush, who was still bouncing slightly as he waited for praise. He did this for me. Remus gave me this chance. He did this because he cares. No one’s ever cared about me this much before.

Virgil didn’t realize what he was going to say until it was already out of his mouth. “Do you like coffee? With me?” He realized how jumbled his words were and he blushed. “I mean, would you like to go get some coffee with me? I know a good caffe a few blocks away. I know we aren’t too close, but maybe we could get to know each other better?”

Remus froze for a few seconds before he chuckled. “I don’t actually like coffee.” Virgil almost felt his heart drop, but his crush smirked at him. “But I know I’ll enjoy anything with you.” Virgil squeaked with a blush, and Remus chuckled. “Let’s go! We’ll get you some coffee, and we can talk about the inspiration behind your jewelry. Especially these.” He held out his wrist, showing off the dark green bracelet, a small purple heart sewn on the inside. Virgil blushed again. They both knew what inspired it. They both knew that Remus had inspired it. Or rather, Virgil’s feelings towards Remus. And Remus seemed okay with it, judging by his flirtatious chuckle and teasing grin.

Virgil eventually grabbed the resident bad boy’s hand, dragging him out from under the bleachers and towards the nearest cafe. He never thought he’d have a chance, but Remus gave it to him. And there was no way in hell that Virgil wasn’t going to take it.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-princess @artsy-enby09 @girl-who-reads @drarrymalecsolangelo @count-woe-laf

#tsus challenge #sanders sides fic #dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders

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ragrottend0ll · 3 years

Text

School Crush (Vinira Fanfic)

(In december I posted this little idea and now I decided to started it, hope you enjoy and forgive the misspelling, english isn’t my first lenguage)

Chapter one:

‘‘I like girls’’. Emira started.

‘‘I like girls, too’’. Amity seconded after a few seconds of silence.

‘‘Ok...’‘. Alador responded a little shook. ‘‘I-- Wow, yeah, ok.’’

‘‘Is that all you are gonna say, dad? Really?’’. Asked Emira. She didn’t spend seven years in the closet for just to get an ok.

Alador shruged a little. ‘’Congratulations...?’’

‘‘Fine, that’s better’‘.

The Blight siblings and Alador were hanging out. This was something that have been happening some time ago. At first it started as a sisters’ night, just for Amity and Emira, but then Edric discovered this and was begging, crying and basically annoying his sisters for let him ‘’in’’.

He finally achived it.

So, every friday night, while their parents were in important meetings or fancy restaurants, the three would reunited in Emiras’s room and just talk. Sometimes they watched a series or practice some makeup. Even tried on clothes from either Edric or Emira. Sometimes they would sing a karaoke or just talk about their day, their friends, Luz, and throw bullshit of their parents.

They didn’t need to worry about the mansion’s staff. They all like them and have never said something bad of them to their parents. Plus, some have sewn up mouths so... Anyway.

What they did not expected was that, one night, their father would return early.

Alador was honestly tired. He have been awake for three days straight and needed some sleep. Even when his lovely wife, Odalia, told/demanded him to stay awake and attend another important meeting, he denied. Alador was sure that, if he stayed awake for another hour, his body will just collapse.

When he arrive to the mansion, the buttler (he never can remember his name, really) was there and took his coat. Alador didn’t wait more and went upstairs. The Bight manor was splendant, huge and, now that he was walking alone through the corridors full of old portraits in the middle of the night, he would consider it spooky.

The portraits gave him chills in his back. He felt like the eyes of his wife’s ancestors were following him in every step he took.

‘‘I wouldn’t be surprise’‘, Alador tought. ‘‘They may be haunted for real’’.

‘‘I should probably ask Odalia about it’’.

Alador walked to his bedroom’s door, and when he was about to open it he heard something.

It was a scream.

‘‘The kids’’. He tought.

Alador ran as fast as his tiredness allow him to the wast wing, where the children’s bedroom were. The screams kept going, ‘’Where is the staff?’’ Alador asked himself mentally. His kids could be diying and non of the guards he hired were even near.

The screams were coming from Emira’s room. But the shouting didn’t sounded like Emira.

He looked at Amity’s and Edric’s doors. They haven’t come out and their doors were closed. Alador was tempted to open the other two door, but decided not to. If his children were being kidnaped, he’ll deal with the kidnapper in Emira’s room first.

Alador took a deep breath and casted a spell, ready to attack if he needed to. He opened the door, fast and hard. What he saw let him speechless.

There was no kidnapper. There was no danger.

But, he really didn’t know what to think about the scene that was display infront of him.

Emira’s room was a disaster. There were snacks in the ground, Alador wonder if Odalia would be mad about it, he answered himself almost inmediatelly with a yes. The room was dark, except for the karaoke that, Alador supposed, one of the twins bought.

Edric was lying in the floor with a microphone in his left hand, while his right hand where finger-brushing his hair. Oh, and he was using Emira’s lastest grom dress and a twelve centimeters tall heels.

Amity was sitting in the little sofa that Em buy two years ago. Her face had some very excentric makeup, specially her eyes. A wildly combination of pink, glitter and black. With red-sparkled lip gloss. Her triangular earings were replaced with a pair of Emira’s expensive earings that were only used for important meeting or fancy parties. She was wearing her regular pajamas, with the slight difference that, over her pants, she was wearing a puffy skirt. And that her feet were covered with long cowboy boots.

Emira was sitting in her bed, face was covered in some kind of skin care treatment. A phosphorescent green skin care treatment. Even with that, she was the most normal looking of the three. All her makeup was in the bed, (probably the responsable of Amity’s face) and her hand was grabbing her scroll, that was recording Edric’s performance, before he opened the door, at least. The scroll was still recording, by the way. Em didn’t have time to stop it before his father abruptely came in the room.

The Blight siblings were looking at him like deers flashed by a light. Each of them praying in their heads that if they don’t move Alador wouldn’t be able to see them, like some of the animal in the isles.

‘‘You... uhm,... arrived early’‘. Edric stated the obvious, crearly nervous. But, can you blame him? Not everyday your dad found you wearing a dress and using heels . Actually that never really hapened to him.

The music of the karaoke was still playing. Alador connected the dots and figured out that his son was the responsable of the screams.

‘‘Yes, I did’‘ Alador responded. He never had been a man of words, but in this moment he didn’t know what would be the correct way to react.

Should he scold them for being up at one in the morning making a fuss? Or He should just close the door and pretend that none of it happened?

He was definitely going to ask the servants if this was something that happened often and why they had not reported those... meetings that their children did.

‘‘Mom’s here, too?’‘ Amity asked. Her face now was now also covered with a strong blush of embarasment, that reached even her neck.

‘‘No, she is still in the meetong with the Hogson’s’‘ Alador answered.

‘‘Do you want to talk this now, or would you preffer to wait until the sun comes out?’‘ Alador asked. He wan’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but the words came out of his mouth even before he could think about it. That was something that didn’t happened to him since high school.

The kids glare at eachother and said a ‘’now’’ at the same time. If they waited for the sun, Odalia was probably going to arrive and they didn’t wanted to have that conversation with their mother.

None conversation, actually.

‘‘Alright’‘ their father said ‘‘Clean your faces and put on presentable clothes’‘

And with that he leave the room.

‘‘That could have been worse, right?’’ Edric said. He finally stoped doing the pose with his hand trought his hair.

‘‘Yeah...’’ Emira answered him ‘‘Mom could have catch us’’

‘‘Titan forbid’’ Amity said.

Once they cleaned their faces and put on their pijamas, the three siblings made their way to Alador’s office, who has completely forgot how tired he was.

They were nervous, Edric, specially. And were honestly surprised when the scolding was more about how they broke the curfew than about all the mess they did.

And after that, things evolved rapidly. The kids felt better in Alador’s pressence than ever before. They trusted their father even more because he didn’t said a thing to Odalia, and even gave the order to the servants to keep those meetings as a secret.

Two months later, Alador found himself spending the family-bonding-time, as Edric renamed it, with his children. The bonding-time had to be moved to saturday’s night, because Alador had the obligation to go to the meeting on friday. But the kids weren’t mad at all.

‘‘Dad?’’, Edric called for him. It has been five minutes since Emira and Amity’s comming out and Alador haven’t said anything esle since the congratulations. ‘‘Girls, I think you shouldn't have done it at the same time; now you’ve killed him’’.

‘‘We didn’t!’’ Amity shouted inmediately.

‘‘No, I think we actually did it, Mittens’’ Emira seconded.

‘‘I’m fine’’ Alador said some time later. The twins were disscussing if they should call an ambulance or just leave their dad there. Emira was drafting in her mind all the possible ways to hide Alador’s corpse in the manor, too. You have to be careful, right?

Alador sit up straight in the couch were she was lying. Before his both daughters come out to him some minutes ago, they were all watching a movie. If Alador had to be honest, he wasn’t really paying attention. He was falling asleep. This week has been rough, but for no reasom he would cancel the saturdaynight bonding time™.

‘‘None of my kids are straight, huh?’’ Alador thought.

Ok, to be fair, Edric haven’t come out to him (yet), but Alador prectically confirm his son’s orientation when he founded him performing when he discovered that friday sisters’ night. No straight, cis, man would use a dress and heels. Not even walk on them in the propper way Edric managed to do.

‘‘So, uhm, are you... mad or...?’’ Amity began.

‘‘Oh, no. No!’’ Alador answered, with a little laught that lately the siblings were more used to hear ‘‘I’m actually kind of relive.’’

‘‘Relieve?’‘ Edric asked, genuinely curious.

‘‘Indeed. I don’t have to worry about any potencial boyfriend and the concecuences that would imply-’’

‘‘Shut!’’ Amity and Emira shouted at the same time. ‘‘The school already teach us that. No need to repeated.’’ Emira continued.

‘‘I was talking about a heartbroken, but yes, sexual education is very important too.’’ Alador said. And, tho he seemed serious, he was teasing his daughters.

‘‘So, you are ok with this?’’

‘‘Yes, Amity.’’

Actually, I’m kind of a pansexual, myself. Alador tought, but keep shut.

The movie was paused. Probably since some time ago but Alador didn’t notice. He glare at Emira’s wall clock. 12:05, it marked.

It was early, Odalia wouldn’t be back until three in the morning. Anyway he open his scroll to verify that his wife haven’t texted him or something.

There was nothing, as expected. Only Odalia’s last message where she told him that she was going to leave the party at 1:45 and was expecting been home around 3:00 a.m.

‘‘So,’‘ Alador started ‘‘any particular reason to tell me your orientation?’’

Yes, it was sweet, but Alador did knew his daughter a little and can almost tell that, at least Emira had something else to say.

‘‘No, no reason.’’ Amity answered. ‘‘Just to tell you with Em.’’

Alador look at his older daugher, waiting for her answer.

Yes, they were closer than bever before, but the sad truth was that even if his children did trusted in him, he didn’t think that they trusted him that much.

It was reasonable, not less hurting, but understandable.

‘‘Well... You see, er. Ok, so. I actually wanted to tell you because, uhm....’’

Alright, now this was new. Alador never in his life had heard Emira stutter.

All his children were raise to be the embodinment of perfection, as Odalia describe it. The three took classes of everything. From music to etiquette, and diction was not left behind.

Now, Alador was sincerely curious.

‘‘There’s this girl in the school, and well-’’

‘‘Emira has a big crush on her.’’ Edric interrupted.

‘‘But Emira can be around her without being a red mess.’‘

‘‘You are one to talk, huh, Mittens.’’ Emira asked. Her cheeks were already a little blushy.

Amity looked away and Emira continue: ‘’My point is, that, her dad is kinda, a little... short budget. And-’’

‘‘Emira, I love you, but if that girl is using you for your money-’’

‘‘No! She isn’t! Sh doesn’t even know that I liked her’’

‘‘Well that’s debatable’’ Edric said ‘‘It’s really obvious and Viney it’s not as oblivious as Luz, plus-’’

‘‘Who’s Luz?’‘ Alador asked.

‘‘It doesn’t matter right now’’ Emira stated. ‘‘The point is, dad, that she didn’t even tell me his dad was in a little hurry. I was walking towards her and she was talking to her friends about it and I just heard a little. When I told her I could give her some snails she declined and actually was pretty mad about it, until last week, when I apologized. But I really want to do something about it.’’ Em talked fast, but Alador, as the good listener he had always been, didn’t missed anything.

‘‘And how can I help?’’ Alador asked.

‘‘Well, you can make him get a job? Maybe here in the manor or somewhere else. Her dad is in the construction coven, I think he is like, the right hand of the leader.’’

Alador hummed. Contruction coven right hand? He was a right hand once, before he was level up to coven leader. And he knew very well the salary of the seconds on board. It was a great amount of snails.

‘‘And before you say something like ‘she’s scamming you’, I want you to know that her family is really big. She has like, twelve siblings, not including her.’’

Alador sigh.

‘‘She really is a good person, dad. And if I can help her, I will.’’

‘‘She’s one of the noblest people we’ve met. There’s no danger’’ Edric said in favor of Emira’s propose.

Alador looked to Amity, who haven’t said much, and asked her with his eyes for her opinion.

‘‘I don’t hang out with her a lot, but she’s indeed good.’’

‘‘Well, I guess I have no other option, do I?’’

‘‘Thank you, dad!’’ Emira shouted and jump to her dad’s lap to trap him in her arms in a tigh hug.

‘‘I don't promise anything, but I'm going to see what I can do.’‘ Alador responded and hug Emira back.

He looked at Edric and Amity and with a head movement he invited both of them to join the hug.

Edric took Amity’s hand and join to it.

Well, Alador thought, I guess I have some work to do now.

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svtskneecaps · 3 years

Text

crew and cast

(gender neutral) reader x jihoon

genre: fluff + some?? angst? listen i tried lmao; words: 2.8k

well howdy @toxicsocial tis i, your tct secret santa. so uh, i can’t actually make people cry in a timely manner and i didn’t figure most people would be down to read like 9k of buildup, so!! the angst is minimal!!! but i tried really hard and i hope you like it i love you so much also i forgot to title it again until right now so don’t look at it too hard

You loved your high school’s theatre crew. From freshman year they’d been a staple in your life. It was refreshingly stable to be able to walk into the tech room anytime and reliably know what would be going on. Except, there was one thing about theatre you couldn’t stand: Lee Jihoon. You’d avoided him since freshman year, but unfortunately for you, you’d taken over the position of Run Crew Head and Prop Master, and he was the Student Director. You were forced to sit through every production meeting with him.

Which, fine. You’d do anything for the show to run well. But that didn’t change the fact that he made you want to commit a crime.

Or three.

“Great news guys!” you yelled, sweeping into the tech room. “The crutches still aren’t right and Jihoon wants us to repaint the brickwork on the platforms to be less ‘garish’ and the typewriter is from the 1940s when it should be from the 1890s and I’m going to set something on fire!”

Chan slammed his head against the nearest cabinet. “This is the third time he’s rejected the brickwork, oh my god.”

“Fourth time he’s hated the crutches too, and I’ve told him that the only period accurate typewriter in the basement is literally one wrong keystroke from breaking onstage but I guess he’s willing to take that risk for a typewriter that’s going to be in one scene.” You massaged your forehead. “I’m gonna stay late Wednesday so we can have our shit together by Hell Week.”

“I’ll have to join.” Chan peeled his head off the cabinet, cracking his knuckles. “You think Mingyu’s got time to spare? I might get him to help; there’s way too much platform for me to do in time.”

“Dunno, he’s pretty busy.” Vernon scooped a loose screw out of a sawdust pile and swept the whole thing into the dustpan. “Makeup’s been working hard to get the ‘ragged urchin’ look right.”

“I’ll con Soonyoung into it then, I don’t think they’re rehearsing the dance numbers tomorrow so he might be free.”

“I wish you luck with that, dude.” You scooped the crutch off the floor. “I gotta go beg costumes to let me into the basement storage and see if there’s another goddamn piece of fabric I can use for the crutches.”

“You have fun.”

You ended up getting lucky; Minghao already needed to go down there so you wouldn’t have to fight for cell signal to make sure you were allowed to deface the cloth scraps you’d found.

“You seem stressed,” he noted as he unlocked the basement door.

You snorted. “Stressed is an understatement.”

“Jihoon again?”

“If he tells me to redo the damn crutches again I’m going to nail him to the wall.”

Minghao lead the way down the stairs. “I really thought you had it that time.”

“Nothing is good enough for that guy.”

He shrugged. “He just wants the show to go well.”

“Yeah, well, so do I. He doesn’t have to get up everybody’s ass sticking his opinions where they don’t belong. He’s never been crew, why does he get to make us repaint the entire damn set anyway?”

“He’s the director.”

“Everyone else thought the bricks looked fine!”

Minghao looked at you sideways. “What’s your deal with Jihoon?”

“Like I said, poking his nose where it doesn’t--”

“No, you had beef before he got appointed Student Director.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. He’s always kind of been a pain even when he was ensemble.” You drove your finger into your temple. “And he broke a crucial prop that wasn’t his the night before the show opened and didn’t tell me.”

“You did props?”

“Buddy I was Prop Master. I literally didn’t find out until the Stage Manager tried to run that scene before school.” You glared absently at the shelves of typewriters to one side of the walkway. “I literally had to skip my last three classes and dinner to get a replacement and he never even apologized for it.”

Minghao whistled. “That’s unforgivable.”

“Tell me about it.” You waded through the costume racks to get to the bins of scraps in the back.

“And you’ve never considered forgiving and forgetting? I mean, it’s been two years.”

You sighed, leaning the crutch against a shelf. “I mean. . .”

He snickered. “Come on, it’s just you and me and the ghosts down here, you can say it.”

“I mean. . . he just makes me so mad!” You yanked the lid off a tote with a snap that echoed across the basement. “Like, every time I start thinking maybe he’s not so bad he pulls some other shit on me and I slam right back into hating his goddamn guts.”

“You’re on the same team,” Minghao called down the row. “You’re just trying to make the show better.”

“Making the show better shouldn’t involve painting the entire set three times.”

“I’m just saying, it’d put at least three years back on your lifespan.”

“Yeah yeah.”

You managed to update the crutches by the end of the day, and repainted the entire set on Wednesday--although you had to sacrifice your lunch and free periods and several hours after school to get it all done. Thursday left you with a finished set and another production meeting.

He didn’t like the bricks.

You saw red.

In the hallway, you pulled him aside.

“What don’t you like about the bricks?”

He frowned. “They detract attention from the actors.”

You wanted to seize him by the shoulders and shake him like a maraca. “It’s gray! It is the darkest most nondescript color we have in the buckets and you’re telling me it detracts attention from the actors? You haven’t even seen them rehearse with it!”

“It’s gonna be too much,” he argued. “It’s the same color as half the costumes--”

“I have seen every single costume in the show, it’s not even close to the same pigment!”

“Even still--”

“Listen,” you snapped, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, “if you want the set redone in time for Hell Week then I expect to see you in the goddamn tech room tomorrow after school wearing something you don’t mind getting paint on because I’m not going to make Chan and Vernon repaint the entire damn set by themselves for the fifth time and I have to figure out how to keep that 1890s typewriter from falling apart, do I make myself clear?”

He looked almost disgusted at the prospect, but he nodded stiffly. “Crystal.”

You turned on your heel just as stiffly, striding away before you lost all composure.

To your complete surprise, Jihoon actually showed up the next day, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a shirt so faded that whatever decal had been on the front had long washed away.

“So he arrives!” Chan yelled from his perch on the desk, where he’d been watching you wrestle with the typewriter.

Jihoon looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he squared his shoulders. “Where do you need me?”

“We gotta move all the set pieces in before we start,” Chan said. “Then I’ll probably have you start on the legs. We gotta wait for Vernon before we can move the tall stuff. One sec, I’ll--” he bolted into the hallway.

Jihoon stared after him, then looked to you. “Where is he going?”

“To tell Vernon we’re actually doing the repaint.” You shrugged. “Honestly I’m surprised you showed up.”

“I said I would.”

“Actually you just said you understood the ultimatum; we had no idea if you’d show or not.”

“Oh.”

You shrugged. “Good to have you anyway.”

Chan returned with Vernon before the silence could get too awkward, and you helped them move all the platforms back into the tech room. From there, Vernon set up his speaker and the real work began.

Jihoon helped choose the color of the bricks (and Chan threatened to really break his leg if he changed his mind about it later), and they got to laying down the base coat. You went back to glaring at the typewriter and reading through every antiques article you could find online.

After trying seven different methods to no avail, you shoved your chair away from the desk. “Typewriters are hellspawn created by the Devil himself to punish unfortunate Prop Masters.”

Vernon snickered. “That good, huh?”

“I’m going to put a screwdriver through the keyboard,” you said mildly.

“Okay maybe don’t do that.” Chan paused to pull a clean paintbrush out of his pocket and throw it at you. “You know where the overalls are; come take a break.”

“Why do you just have that?” Jihoon asked.

“A painter is always prepared.”

Jihoon glanced at you. You shrugged. “I don’t question it.”

Between the four of you, you managed to finish all but one platform by the time Chan and Vernon had to go. Being older, you had infinite time, so you cracked your knuckles and sat back at the typewriter. Jihoon lingered in the doorway.

“You need any help?”

You looked up. “Nah, I think I got it. Thank you, though.”

He shifted. “Listen, I know we didn’t really get off on the right foot but, I’m sorry. I know I never really apologized for the prop, and I’m sorry for how long it took, too.”

You sighed. “It’s fine. It’s kind of unfair of me to hold it against you this long anyway, so, I’m sorry too.” It wasn’t the only reason he made you so angry, but that chip on your shoulder made a lot of other offenses you would have normally overlooked seem larger.

“Can we maybe start over?” he asked. “Freshman year all over again?”

You actually found yourself nodding. “As long as you don’t make us repaint the set ever again.”

He laughed, running a paint-stained hand through his hair. “No, I won’t. I can’t do that to your crew again.”

“Good. Cause we weren’t kidding about breaking your legs.”

“I will keep that in mind.” He hiked up his backpack. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

“Happy Hell Week.”

Hell Week was hell (and the sky is blue).

Three of the actors lost their voices four days before Opening Night. One of the glasses for the restaurant scene shattered during the dance number--even though it was supposed to be offstage already--and the third lead got very close to twisting her ankle after landing a jump wrong. The actors could never manage to find their light, there were technical glitches with the backstage mics, and you were so on edge that if you heard the word standby you’d jump so bad you’d bruise your knee on the table.

The typewriter gave you more anxiety than it was worth. The actress using it had strict instructions not to actually touch the keys, because the only thing holding it together was gaff tape. You’d put Jun and Wonwoo in charge of bringing the desk it sat on onstage, because you trusted them to have it under control and keep it from tipping, because if it tipped at an angle any more than about 30 degrees, the keys would get out of alignment and that required time and experience to fix, of which you had neither.

Needless to say, you were two steps away from tearing your hair out.

At least you weren’t fighting with Jihoon, though. You’d even gone out to grab takeout with him for dinner, once, and yelling about all the problems in the car was really cathartic and you came back refreshed and relaxed, for once (only for every muscle in your back to clench at once because an actor bumped the prop table in their hurry to get in costume and one of the glasses fell over).

But it was Opening Night, and you were wound tighter than a spring waiting for everything to go wrong.

And it did.

Jihoon was in the hallway behind the stage, giving Joshua a few final notes about his big solo, and he didn’t check his surroundings closely enough. In his wild gesturing to demonstrate the level of enthusiasm, his arm clipped the typewriter.

And it fell.

He stared at it. Joshua stared at it. You could not tear your eyes from it.

The keys had tilted out of alignment. The bar holding the paper was skewed. The decorative paneling to one side had cracked down the middle. You didn’t have time to fix it before it went on. Maybe you couldn’t fix it at all.

“I am so sorry--” Jihoon started, but you stopped him with a hand, balling the other into a fist.

“Don’t,” you forced through your teeth, because you didn’t want to start yelling at him; it was an honest mistake and it was your fault for not resettling it on the desk after the last run. You were just seething with rage, at yourself, at the typewriter--you didn’t want to project it.

“Ten minutes to go!” someone yelled down the hall. You forced yourself to exhale, gingerly picking it up, flinching with every shift of the keys.

“Is there anything I can--”

“Get to the booth. Tell Seungcheol what happened, just-- be in your place. Jun!” you yelled into the tech room. His head jerked up. “I need you to take over headset for me, can you do that?”

His mouth fell open seeing the typewriter and he nodded, wordlessly, leaping to his feet and hurrying backstage.

Jihoon still stood there, looking between the typewriter and you with an anguished expression. “You’re sure you don’t--”

“I got it,” you said again, clipped. “I can handle it. I can-- just get to the booth, Jihoon!”

You hadn’t yelled. You knew enough not to yell when the audience was already in their seats. But your words had the same effect, because he flinched, and he nodded, and he turned the other way and ran.

Your rage was turning inward as fast as it was dulling, but you had a show to put on, so you placed the broken typewriter carefully on a counter in the tech room and sprinted for the basement.

You managed to get the 1970s typewriter back upstairs and on the desk before it went on, and the show went on without a hitch. The actors hit their marks, all the props found their way back to the prop table, and the pit orchestra didn’t have to loop a section for a missed cue even once.

You waited until everyone was gone before you let yourself cry.

“I really am sorry.”

You looked up.

Jihoon stood in the doorway, twisting his hands.

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s partially my fault for not making sure it was centered right.” You rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands, hoping to disguise the redness. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Do you want help?”

“I don’t know if it can even be fixed,” you said, staring blankly at the remains of the typewriter in front of you. “It might-- it might be beyond my help.”

For a long moment, you stared at it, mind spiralling.

You pushed yourself up. “They’ll want to lock up.” You slung your backpack over your shoulders. “I’ll just come in before the show and work on it. Maybe get Jun to grab me some McDonald’s or something and eat during the intermission.”

Jihoon’s brow furrowed. “That’s not healthy.”

“I’ve done it before.” You waved him off. “The show must go on, you know?” You slung your backpack over your shoulders. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The day came by in flashes as you researched the typewriter with a renewed vigor. You could probably use hot glue and some kind of putty to hide the crack in the paneling, you could probably put the keys back or at the very least tape them to look like they were back, from a distance. The bar at the top would be much harder but you hadn’t really inspected it the night before so maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it was?

You didn’t feel particularly hopeful when you stopped by the tech room to pick up the typewriter.

Until you saw the typewriter.

“What the fuck.” It was fixed. The keys aligned, the crack sealed, the bar sitting on top just as it was supposed to be. It looked exactly like it had when you’d first set it on that desk.

Jihoon came around the corner, dried putty staining his hands. “Hey,” he said, seeming tired but absolutely beaming at you.

“Did you do this?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t want you putting your health on the line.”

“Oh my god, thank you. I can’t-- this is incredible!” You kept tracing your fingers over the ridge formed by the sealed crack, but you couldn’t see it.

“I did a good job, then?” He put his hands in his pockets, grinning.

“Better than good, oh my god I could kiss you!”

Your cheeks burned when you realized what you’d said, but he laughed. “Whoa, buy me dinner first.”

“Bet,” you said, accepting it like a challenge. “You pick the place, I’ll pay.”

“Okay,” he said, and then lifted his hands. “I gotta wash up.”

“Meet you by the front door in five?”

“It’s a date.”

114 notes · View notes

patton-cake · 4 years

Text

No thoughts- head gay

@katlikethesword Happy birthday Kat!! @irritating-lady-knight and I wrote this as your birthday present!!! We hope you enjoy it! We love you so much Kitty Kat! You're just always so precious and kind and I could go on forever. You're amazing Kat! Take all our love and affection

Pairing: prinxiety

Summary: Roman is precious and Virgil definitely isn't simping, no that would be ridiculous he would never simp for his roommate

"Ro? What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in class? Don't tell me that you're skipping your silly theater thing for me"

Virgil gently hit Roman's arm and started walking next to him. Their footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

"Pff don't flatter yourself too much finding emo. Class got cancelled, some dude tried to recreate the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. He broke 3 ribs."

Roman let out a muffled laugh and handed his friend some oreos

"Want one? I was bored so decided to stop for a snack"

"Thanks princey, you always know how to find your way into my heart"

Virgil rolled his eyes but softly smiled as he accepted the food. They ate in comfortable silence and made their way out of the school building.

"Uh Virge? You don't happen to have an umbrella do you?"

He looked up from his phone and saw the rain falling down from the sky

"What's the matter prince charming? Afraid of water? Afraid that it might ruin your hair?"

Roman glared at him before shoving Virgil outside.

"Go on sunshine, let's see how long your makeup will last in the rain"

"How mature of you Ro, afraid to go first? Well come on then! Go follow mother duck. I will protect you my little duckling"

Virgil pulled Roman into the rain and started to walk very proudly, arms linked with Roman.

"Okay, if this is how you want to play this V, then you need to carry me on your back. This poor little duckling needs to be carried!"

Roman pouted and dramatically leaned his full weight against Virgil, who started at him with an annoyed face. But unfortunately for himself, Virgil was way to competitive to give up now.

"Bring it on ugly duckling"

"Auch that one hurts V, that one hurts"

And that's how Virgil ended up giving Roman a piggyback ride all the way to their apartment. When they finally arrived, they both were completely soaked.

"Thank you my noble horse for carrying me to my palace!"

"I thought I was mama duck?"

Roman laughed and opened the door to their apartment

"Nah a horse suits you better"

Virgil rolled his eyes and dropped his backpack on their apartment floor.

"Whatever makes you happy Romano, I'm gonna shower, please don't burn the house down."

Roman sputtered out a complaining noice as Virgil walked up stairs

"THAT HAPPENED ONE TIME"

After Virgil was down showering, he walked downstairs and put on a movie. He heard Roman serenading himself under the shower and chuckled softly. When he finally heard Roman's footsteps, he looked up and his heart stopped for a second

"Is that my hoodie?"

A soft red blush spread over both of their cheeks

"Uh- yeay- I was really cold a-and your hoodies always look so soft and warm, but I can put it back if you want me to!"

"Keep it"

Roman awkwardly sat down next to him

"You want me to keep it? Are you sure?"

Virgil looked at him with a soft look in his eyes,

"Yeay, it looks better on you anyway"

He didn't think that Roman's face could turn more red, it almost matched his annoyingly adorable sweater that he was wearing. No Virgil, no more gay thoughts for today, he had already reached his limits. He just had to focus on the movie they were watching.

"Wait a minute, are you complementing me Virge? Awww you don't hate me!"

Virgil almost believed Roman's confident voice if it wasn't for the blush that still burned bright red on his cheeks

"I take it back, you're the worst"

After this, it didn’t take very long for the two of them to fall back in their familiar rhythm, Virgil grumbling about plot holes, Roman criticizing the choices of the main characters- both jostling each other while fighting to eat as much popcorn as possible before the other could take ‘more than their fair share’. Slowly their comments and arguments and movement died off, though, and they truly became invested in the plot.

After two and a half movies, a sunset, a frantic call from Logan, and 4 cups of cocoa, Virgil had settled into his corner of the couch, warmth pooled in his belly and a blanket pulled to his chin. Roman had decided that it was too much work to actually get up and put on socks, so he’d tucked his ice cold feet under Virgil’s thighs and flopped dramatically across the rest of the couch, mumbling about Virgil’s abundant heat that he insisted on taking advantage of. Selfish fucker. Virgil didn’t know why he continued to deal with him. Most certainly not because he’d grown fond of him, god forbid. Motherfucker. Getting attached

. This is why he didn’t want a roommate freshman year. But as he watched Roman mouthing lines right alongside Jack, he was unable to smother a fond smile, shaking his head in disgust at himself.

“V.”

He grunted in response, looking up from his thoughts to see Roman standing in front of him, Sally frozen on screen. “Mug.”

Virgil pressed his mug into Roman’s hands and nudged his shin with a gentle foot in thanks, shifting to turtle further into his nest of blankets. A few minutes later Roman returned, mugs filled to the brim with steamy cocoa, Roman’s piled high with marshmallows and whipped cream.

“Move over.” Roman demanded, sitting down right beside him, their thighs pressed together. Virgil was wide awake.

“I- move? I’m pressed up against the side, dipshit. There is nowhere else for me to move!” Virgil pushed at him gently, but Roman only made a soft noise in response, carefully putting his mug in Virgil’s hands, the latter spluttering in offense. “The f-” He cut himself off with a grunt of surprise as his roommate flopped against him, pressing his cheek flat against Virgil’s arm.

“My dude???” Virgil squirmed until Roman sighed dramatically and shifted again, until Virgil was sitting up, two mugs balanced precariously in his hands, and Roman was pressed up against his side, feet once again tucked beneath his roommate’s thighs.

“I’m staying here, don’t complain or I’m spilling your cocoa on you. You are a human heater and I am visibly shivering, don’t be selfish and share.” Roman stated firmly, snuggling back against Virgil’s shoulder before pressing play.

Virgil.exe has stopped working. Press any button on your keyboard to restart.

Roman smelled like lemon and sandalwood. Virgil didn’t know what sandalwood was, but Roman smelled like it. His hair was still slightly damp from his shower, and it was soft and gentle against Virgil’s neck. He was lying when he said that he was cold, he was a nice sort of warm that Virgil melted into on contact, and couldn’t convince himself to move away from. Not that he wanted to. Except he did. He was no simp. He refused. Patton was a simp. Virgil was no simp. Absolutely not.

Except..

No.

Virgil. No.

Stop.

If you-

But he did.

Virgil quietly scolded himself and shook his head. It was time to focus on the movie, he shouldn't think about Roman or Roman's stupidly perfect face. No. He wouldn't think of that.

He almost found himself focusing back on the movie, but of course, Roman had to make it more difficult. Virgil felt a soft breath in his neck and saw that his friend had closed his eyes, his chest moving in a steady rhythm. He looked absolutely perfect. Okay, Virgil allowed that one gay thought, it was simply a fact and Logan had always told him that you can't argue with facts.

The movie. Virgil had to focus on the movie. He just had pretend that Roman was not there! That his hair didn't tickle Virgil's face. That shouldn't be that difficult right?

"..V..?"

Shit

Roman's voice was soft and Virgil lost his mind again

"Yeay Ro?"

His voice didn't squeak, it didn't . Virgil fought against his urges to kiss Roman's perfectly soft lips and to keep him here forever, laying on their couch. That sounded perfect to Virgil.

"Did you know that you're really hot Virge?"

The urges kept getting stronger and Virgil swallowed, trying not to squeak again

"Another heating pad joke? You're repeating yourself Ro"

"I didn't mean it in that way"

And with that he placed a soft kiss on Virgil's cheek before laying back down, closing his eyes again.

From that moment on Virgil was certain of two things.

One: He failed his gay thoughts rule

And two: He would risk absolutely everything for his roommate.

#prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #roman x virgil #virgil x roman #romantic prinxiety #pattoncake writes #gabi (attempts) to write #Collab with Gabi!! :D #I'm so excited for this one #gabi tag #kat tag #HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAT #virgils a simp #they cuddle #roman is precious #little smooch

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negans-wifeyy · 4 years

Text

The Babysitter

Summary: Jeffrey Dean Morgan gets down and dirty with his babysitter.

Pairing: Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader

Warning: Heavy smut, major negan vibes

Tags: Seduction, angry sex, older man/younger woman (the reader is 18 and in high school), mdom, sub!reader, teasing, oral sex(woman receiving), unprotected sex(oups), etc.

Word Count: 2398

A/N: The premise of this story was heavily inspired by an audio from the subreddit gonewildaudio. I’ll put the link in the comments since tumblr won’t allow me to publish anything with a NSFW link in it. If you haven’t discovered GWA yet, you’re welcome. Also, the story involves Hilary Burton portrayed as a shitty wife but it’s nothing against her or her actual marriage to JDM. I just needed to include her in it for the story to make sense.

-------------------

Ever since you were little girl, you’ve lived next door to the Morgans who were known in your neighbourhood like the white picket fence family. Last year, much to everyone’s surprise, Mrs. Morgan separated from her husband, Jeffrey, and even move out of their house. Now that they shared custody of their two boys, you’ve become Mr. Morgan’s trustworthy babysitter on days where he was working late. Three times a week, you’d babysit his kids after high school. You went to a private school at the other end of town but you always made sure to arrive at his house on time to welcome the kids home. Their mother would always pick them up from kindergarten and dropped them off for you to watch them over the evening. Often times, you’d rush out of your last class without even having time to change from your uniform just to be punctual. Today was one of those times, except that it was now an hour past the hour that Mrs. Morgan would usually arrive with her children. She was very much late and you tried to call her multiple times, but got no answer. Concerned, you reached her husband to let him know about the situation.

"Hello?" Jeffrey answered over the sound of a loud car horn.

"Hi, Mr.Morgan" You said. "This is Y/N. Are you driving?”

“Oh hi Y/N, I am driving but you can talk if there’s an emergency."

"The boys aren’t home yet and I arrived about an hour ago. I called your wife on her cellphone several times but only got her voicemail" You informed him.

"That bitch" He muttered under his breath. "Listen, my phone is about to die but I left work early today so I’m on my way home now. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Alright see you soon” You said before hanging up.

Not even a couple minutes later, your very enraged neighbour storm in his house while you were waiting for him in the living room. He directly went to grab the home phone and furiously dialled his wife’s number. You were sitting on the couch and watched as he stood next to the kitchen counter angrier than you’ve seen him before.

"Hello Hilary?? Where the fuck are you?!" He shouted at her. You couldn’t pick up what she was saying back but you listened closely to the entire conversation. "The babysitter’s been waiting for you to drop off the kids since 4! [... ] We had a fucking deal, Wednesday to Friday, Y/N watches them until I get off of work! [...] Oh, so now you have a problem with our agreement?![...] This was your idea! This is all on you! You decided to move out after the divorce and take our children with you! I want to see my kids! [...] Of course I’m getting mad. You— Hilary? Hilary?? Hilary??!"

Jeffrey threw the phone on the floor breaking it into pieces. His face was all red and a vein popped up from his forehead from being so angry. You stood up a bit shaken by his actions and didn’t know whether to stay and calm him down or leave to let him cool off.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out like that" He apologized in a calmer tone."It’s just been hell lately trying to co-parent with Hilary. She wants to get full custody of the kids and is trying to make me look bad for leaving them with you during my nights that I’m supposed to spend with them."

"No need to apologize, I’m more sorry to hear about it. Are the kids ok?” You asked.

“Yeah, they’re fine. They’re with their mom and aren’t really aware of the drama”

“That’s good. And are you ok Mr.Morgan?”

“I have to be. But deep down though, I’m boiling inside and I just can’t believe she would do that! " He rose his voice yet again.

"She'll come around I’m sure about it." You tried to reassure him so he wouldn’t lose his temper again.

"No she won’t! That bitch is depriving me from seeing my boys and I bet her manipulative ass is gonna get away with it. I can’t believe I’m even getting mad right now! That’s exactly what she fucking wants!!" He vented to you letting out all of his repressed emotions. But, he wasn’t done yet. From the rage written all over his face, he was on the verge of really blowing up. "God I’m so... I’m so fucking pant up right now!!! I just.. I just need to pin someone down and fuck them hard until they come on my cock!!"

That was really unexpected. You were so stunned by the profanity of his statement that you stood in place wide-eyed, swallowing a huge lump in your throat. Any other person would be shocked by the obscene language that Jeffrey used but for you, it’s was surprisingly turning you on.

"I’m so sorry again, I can’t believe I said that out loud.” He said almost out of breath from yelling so much. “I hope I didn’t scare you?”

"Euh.. no. It’s ok don’t worry” You said as you cleared your throat.

"It’s just been so long ever since the divorce that I’ve... you know, done it. Our marriage was built on makeup sex from always fighting, so every time I get angry now, I can’t help getting aroused. And umm..." He declared before stopping briefly to walked around the counter and come closer to you. You were so nervous the more he closed the distance between you two. "It surely doesn’t help, when a young, attractive woman like you is dressed up in her cute schoolgirl uniform, calls me Mr.Morgan with an innocent voice and looks up at me with her dewy eyes."

He was now standing in front of you so closely and eyed you up and down like he desired you more than anything in the world. You could feel your heart pumping through your chest and your palms were sweating from the sexual tension building up. Plus, he was looking really handsome with the business suit he was wearing which turned you on even more. You’ve always been attracted to your neighbour but feared that your major age gap would be an issue for him. From the way you both stared deeply into each other’s eyes with lust and desire, you knew now that it wasn’t an issue at all. He moved his hand to your face, palming it and thumbing your bottom lip.

"You are so fucking gorgeous" Jeffrey said to you and all of the sudden, his lips crashed onto yours. He kissed you so passionately as he grabbed the back of your neck with one hand and cupped your ass with the other. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this"

"Me too. " You said with your hands laying on his chest. His heart was also beating really fast.

"You know, I’m 100% sure that my attraction to you is the reason why Hilary doesn’t want you babysitting the kids. She would always get jealous of the way I looked at you when you’d come over." He lowered his head to your neck to give it gentle kisses and continued to talk in between them. “I’ve always fantasized about having you and right now, I want you more than anything.”

The way he talked while sucking at all your sensitive spots, you couldn’t help yourself but moan gently. Jeffrey moved up to your earlobe to nibble it with his mouth.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” He whispered into your ear with his raspy and dominant voice. “You’re gonna lay down on the couch and I’m going to lick your cunt until you cum all over my tongue. After that, I’m going to fuck you hard and fill you up with my cum. Are we understood?"

"Yes Mr.Morgan” You said to him, which made him smirk slightly in satisfaction.

"Good girl" He told you as he sat down on the couch. "I want you to take off all your clothes first. Slowly. "

You did as you were told by starting to unbutton your blouse. Jeffrey was eyeing your every move and he let his hand wander down to his dick that was rock hard through his pants. Then, you got rid of your skirt, leaving you in your bra and panties. Normally, you would have been really insecure stripping down in front of someone. But, by the way Jeffrey was touching himself and looking at you like you were the sexiest thing ever, you felt really comfortable. As soon as you took your bra down, he motioned to you with his finger to come closer.

"Sit on my lap baby girl" He demanded to you and you followed his order. "Now grind on it”

You whined your hips back and forth on his thigh and Jeffrey took advantage of your proximity to massage your breasts and take your nipples in his mouth. He nibbled and tugged on them which made you even more excited and grind on him faster. The friction on your clit was getting you closer to your climax.

"That’s it Y/N. Keep grinding your pretty little pussy on my thigh. I want you dripping from your wetness.”

“Oh god! I’m gonna cum!” You cried out as you almost reached orgasm.

“No, you’re not.” He spat at you and took you off of his lap. He pinned you down on your back and laid on top of you. His eyes were filled with rage and his hand was now wrapped around your neck. "You don’t get to cum until I tell you to. Do you understand?"

"Yes”. You responded softly.

“Yes who?” He demanded and squeeze his hand on your neck, choking you gently.

"Yes Mr.Morgan.” You managed to say out of breath.

“Good girl. Now let’s see how wet you are for me” He slid down the couch and spread your legs to settle in between them. Jeffrey cupped you sex over your panties to feel your wetness. “Wow, you are dripping. Am I making you this wet?”

“Ye-Yess Mr.Morgan." You breathed out heavily as he started to rub you slowly. You rocked your hips forward following the motion of his hand.

"Don’t get too eager now baby girl, I haven’t even tasted you yet.” Jeffrey stopped rubbing you to take your panties off. He kissed down your leg slowly and when his mouth got in front of your sex, your whole body squirmed in anticipation. But he wanted to keep teasing you and kissed your inner thighs instead. When he saw that you were getting more and more excited, he licked up the length of your slit before sucking gently on your throbbing clit. You arched your back in pleasure and Jeffrey stared up at you being completely intoxicated by his oral skills. As if eating you out wasn’t enough, he pushed two fingers inside of you without warning and curled them upward to rub against your g-spot.

“Oh fuck it feels so good!!” You gasped. "Keep going!”

You grabbed both the side of the couch and Jeffrey’s hair for balance. He devoured and finger fucked you more rapidly without breaking eye contact with you. You were on the verge of cumming but remembered that you weren’t allowed unless he told you to.

"Do you need to come baby girl?” He asked you.

“Yess!” You whined out desperate.

“Beg for it.” He demanded

“Pleeeease Mr.Morgan can I come?!” You pleaded.

"Come for me right now, all over my mouth and my fingers."

"Fuckk yesss!!! You screamed out loudly and your entire body convulsed from the intensity of your orgasm. As you were coming down from it, breathless, Jeffrey moved up to kiss you so you could taste yourself. His entire mouth and beard were drenched with your cum.

“I need to fuck you right now. I need to feel that tight little cunt clench around my cock. Are you ready baby?” Jeffrey declared to you. You nodded in response and reached down to unbuckle his belt. You grabbed his dick inside his briefs and stroke it gently.

"You are so big Mr.Morgan, I wonder if I could fit you all in my mouth” You told him amazed by his size. His lips were parted and he moaned softly from your touch and your dirty talk.

"Fuck. That would feel so good” He suddenly stopped your actions and grabbed both your hands to pin them on top of your head. “But you’ll get to suck my cock another time. Right now I need to be inside of you really badly.”

Jeffrey took his member in his hand and teased the tip up and down on your entrance before penetrating fully. You took every inch of his massive cock without any time to adjust as he rammed inside of you faster and faster. His rough strokes in your cunt were hitting all the right spots and you moaned louder than you’ve ever moaned before with any other men.

"Oh fuck yesss!! Don’t stop!" You screamed.

"Your pussy is so tight around my cock! Fuck!" He grunted ou loudly. He put his hand around your neck again to choke you as you were gasping for air. "Beg for my cum!"

"Please!! I-I want you- oh fuck!" You tried to beg but failed due to the amazing sensations and Jeffrey’s hand around your throat.

"I said: beg for my cum!" He commanded you.

"C-Can you please cum inside of me while I come around your dick Mr.Morgan?!"

“Cum right now!”

Your body twitched, your toes curled and your eyes rolled back as you came harder than before. It felt like an out of body experience and not a few seconds later, Jeffrey came too.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming!! Take my load deep in your tight cuuunnt!!" He moaned and filled your pussy with his cum.

He let go of your hands and neck and before he collapsed on top of you, you kissed him yet again still aching for more.

“That was amazing Y/N” He told you with a grin so wide, you could see his dimples form. “Why don’t you join me in my bedroom for the night? I am not quite with you baby girl."

"Yes Mr.Morgan." You eagerly responded and returned his grin with a cheeky smile.

1K notes · View notes

igirisuhito · 4 years

Text

Title: Blue Ram Relationship(s): Komaeda Nagito/Hinata Hajime Rating: Explicit Summary: Hinata thinks he has his sexuality all figured out. Until one day a pretty woman comes to his workplace in the dead of night. Posted for Day 1 of @tropicaldespair‘s #SDR2Giftober Trigger Warnings: Cross-dressing, Semi-public sex, Powerplay, Sexual frustration, Rough sex, Perving a stranger, I’m sorry all the triggery things are horny

[Ao3 Link]

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Hinata Hajime was a regular teenage boy.

He has high grades and attends an elite school, sure. But like most teenage boys, his spare time was spent playing video games, working his part time job, or jacking off to hot girls on the internet.

As vanilla as a teenage boy could get.

Hinata works as a cashier at a convenience store a block from his house. It's your average suburban Japanese 7/11, an average teenage boy's job.

He works this job most nights, and usually does a longer shift on Sundays. In all honesty, he probably works a bit too much, but tuition for Hope’s Peak Academy is incredibly expensive. He had been enough of a burden to his parents for all these years. Besides, here he can continue to fuel his addiction to cup ramen and kusamochi for a conveniently cheaper price.

And that's exactly what he was doing on this humid Saturday night. The rainy season was finally here, and the warmth was making Hinata's work shirt stick to his skin uncomfortably. The air conditioner in the break room wasn't strong enough to combat heat like this.

It had been a quiet night, likely due to the sheer amount of rain pouring down outside. Hinata was the only one on shift, and even he had resorted to hiding in the break room to read manga. It was difficult to focus due to the loud pelting of the rain on the roof and the dizzying humidity hanging in the air.

Hinata yawned, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes that were lazily wiped away. It wasn't unusual for him to work a late six-to-two shift on a Saturday, but end of term exams had been knocking him around quite a bit. The struggle of juggling both studying and work has been causing him to become more tired than usual.

A loud electronic bell and the sound of the automatic doors sliding open broke him from his daze. Placing his manga face down on the table, Hinata stood up from his chair and made his way out of the break room before sliding into his place behind the counter.

Clearing his throat quietly, he put on his best customer service voice. "Good evening! Is there anything I can help you with?"

He glanced towards the door, seeking out the person who was dumb enough to go shopping at 12am in the pouring rain. He was met with a pair of grey eyes boring a hole into him, analysing intensely for any sort of reaction. Hinata's breath caught in his throat.

Standing near the door was a young woman, quite tall for a girl. Her white hair was pulled back into a small ponytail, still dripping with water from the rain. Dark mascara was thickly applied to her long eyelashes, so long he actually assumed they were fake at first glance. Red lipstick had been painted onto her small yet pointed lips and eye shadow of a similar colour was dusted on her eyelids. The bold colours of her makeup contrasted gorgeously against her pale skin. It was surprising that it hadn't washed off in the rain.

A tight black dress with thick straps clung to her body, fabric hugging at her hips and chest in a way that revealed she was lacking in the latter department. Sheer black stockings stretched over her skinny legs, ending in tall red high stilettos that could probably be used to kill a man if she so desired.

Hinata felt dizzy, blood rushing to his face as he brought his gaze back up to where the attractive woman's own was waiting.

"Ah… No… I'm quite alright…" The girl averted her eyes from his. "Thank you."

Her voice was surprisingly deep and sultry, it made her all the more attractive. Though she seemed somewhat shaken, perhaps even nervous?

The lady slowly made her way over to the snacks section, her heels clacking loudly against the floor with every step. Hinata watched closely, entranced by the gorgeous woman he probably had no right to be staring at as hard as he was.

She bent down to pick up a pack of salted pretzel sticks and Hinata just couldn't resist the urge to sneak a peek. He had always been more of an ass kind of guy anyway.

During his ogling, he couldn't help noticing a few small tears in her stockings, just below where her dress ended. His mind quickly became overcome with a dirty thought so jarring that it made him realize just how perverted he was being. For his own moral's sake, he forced his eyes away into another aisle, hoping she hadn't somehow been able to feel his stare.

She straightened herself up again and grabbed a cold can of Blue Ram from the fridge nearby before heading to the counter where Hinata waited. He avoided her eyes as he scanned her items.

"T-That comes to a total of 500 yen." He mumbled, finding himself blushing madly now that she was so close, enough so to smell the flowery perfume wafting off of her. Get a grip, Hajime!

The lady smiled and patted her hands on her hips performatively. "O-Oh dear… it seems I've forgotten my purse!"

What? Are you serious? As if I'm going to fall for that.

Scoffing silently, Hinata stared down at his shiny black work shoes.

"P-Please don't worry about the cost, m-ma'am." He stammered out.

WHAT?! Stop thinking with your dick! That's your goddamn allowance!!

A toothed grin crawled up on the woman's face as she towered over the other boy, suddenly gaining an air of confidence. "Aren't you a sweetheart! Thank you very much-" She glanced down at his nametag, " Hinata-kun. "

She picked up her items before leaving the store, making her way back out into the pouring rain. She left Hinata red faced and humiliated, wondering if he would ever see her again, hear his name on her lips…

He shook his head, snapping out of his daze. Why did he let that happen? That woman knew exactly what she was doing. It wasn't even like she was a smooth older woman either, she was pretty young! And he just let her walk all over him in those fancy high heels.

He grumbled as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket, adding the missing cost to the till. Now he not only had a hard-on but he was out of pocket 500 yen as well.

With a loud sigh, Hinata made his way to the back room, determined to do something about his newfound problem.

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Hinata found himself still thinking about that mesmerising bitch of a woman 3 days later during a quiet afternoon shift. The rainy weather had eased off for the day, the sweltering sun shining through the poorly cleaned windows. Studying in the barely air-conditioned Reserve Course building all day had already left him in a particularly crabby mood. It seems he can't escape the heat anywhere.

He truly envied the Main Course students for a lot of things. Their talent, their privilege, their dormitories, their stupid uniforms, their obnoxious laughter as they ate. He especially hated the way they tried to steal stuff from the store despite the fact they could absolutely afford it and then proceeding to complain to the school and get him in trouble with his boss purely for doing his fucking job.

Hinata really did not like the Main Course students.

Which is why his mood grew even more sour now that there were a bunch of them eating here today. Another cackle echoed through the store, causing Hinata's shoulders to tense up in frustration.

The obnoxious laugh seemed to come from this boy with neon pink hair who was sporting an ugly blue jumpsuit. He slurped his soba loudly as he chatted amongst the other two students beside him. They consisted of a boy and a girl, both clothed in the Main Course's rich brown uniform.

The girl had long blonde hair that cascaded elegantly down her back, she didn't seem like she was Japanese, though. Perhaps an international exchange student? And the boy had dark hair styled in a flashy unusual manner paired with mismatched eyes. If his goal was to make people look at him funny, he was definitely succeeding.

Hinata leaned onto the counter with a sigh, resting his head upon his elbows. His shift had just barely started yet he was already so, so bored. His coworker was hiding out in the back doing god knows what, leaving most of the grunt work to Hinata yet again . Jeez, and the guy wonders why he never bothered to remember his name.

The warm weather pulled at Hinata's consciousness, causing his eyelids to droop shut as he receded into his thoughts. He’d been conjuring up an elaborate fantasy that he found himself regularly indulging in the last few days whenever he had the time to.

It would go down on another rainy evening, the lady would come in wearing white shirt, so completely soaked that Hinata could see the lacy black brassiere underneath.

There would be tears running down her face, smearing her makeup in a way that she still remained beautiful. She had just been dumped by her boyfriend, all alone and out in the rain, just seeking someone to care for her, to listen to her woes. Hinata would listen, take care of her, maybe wrap her up in a towel and sit her down in the back room.

She would confess that she felt feelings for him when he paid for her food, that he supported her in a time of need. She would thank him over and over again, offering to make up for it with her body. Hinata would politely decline, but she would insist, already unbuttoning her shirt.

He would take her there, bend her over the table and make her feel pleasure like she never had before. He’d thrust so deeply that she would be crying, cumming over and over again from his well-sized cock. He would grab that little ponytail of hers and pull her face up, kissing her so passionately that he smeared lipstick across his own lips.

And finally he would cum deep inside of her (she would be using birth control, of course, Hinata isn’t ready for kids).

Afterwards, he’d call her a taxi, and she would leave her number, thanking him for the best night of her life. Perhaps she would come back, and they would fuck again and again.

The electronic bell dinged, tearing Hinata away from his sweet, sweet fantasy. The automatic doors opened and in stepped another student donning a Main Course uniform and a face mask.

Hinata rolled his eyes. "Welcome! Can I be of any ser-"

"KOMAEDA?!"

He found himself cut off by a loud screech from the pink haired student. Said student jumped up out of his seat and backed off. "Wh-why are you here! Since when did you come here?"

The dark haired one spoke. "Souda, you behave as if you have just witnessed an apparition. Does Komaeda truly strike such fear into your heart?"

"Of course he does! Nothing good ever happens when he's around! I always end up getting hurt!" The pink haired boy, who Hinata presumed to be named 'Souda', protested loudly.

The blonde girl stood up, slamming her palms on the table. "Souda! That is no way to treat your fellow classmates!"

"A-Ah, you're right… sorry, Miss Sonia…."

The student who had just entered the store laughed in a way that was honestly kind of creepy. It was just way too breathy, too pained.

"No, it's completely understandable! I'm sorry that somebody as terrible as myself has caused made you worry for your safety..."

What was that kid's name, Komaeda?

"I'll make this brief, I only came to get a drink." Eyes crinkling from what Hinata presumed to be a smile, Komaeda proceeded to walk away from the group of students.

The blonde girl, Sonia, if he wasn’t mistaken, gave Souda a glare before hopping out of her seat with an elegant swish of her skirt. She wandered over to where Komaeda stood near the drink fridges, her gait rather sophisticated and regal.

"Komaeda, I noticed you're wearing a face mask today, did you catch a cold?" Sonia asked the other, attempting to strike up conversation, probably out of pity.

The boy reached into the fridge, grabbing a can of drink. "Ah, yes. I was only in the rain for a short while, but this awful luck of mine found a way to get me sick." He finished his sentence with a soft laugh.

"Oh, that's unfortunate! I really hope you get better soon!" Sonia gave him a sad little smile overflowing with sympathy.

Komaeda paused for a second, blinking a few times before tilting his head to the side and looking towards her. "Sonia-san, I'm incredibly grateful, but you shouldn't waste your hope on scum like me."

What the fuck? Who talks like that?

The Main Course boy made his way towards Hinata, placing a can of Blue Ram on the counter. With Hinata's somewhat icy glare, he found himself hoping that his customer service smile was enough to mask the hate emanating from his soul.

Now that he was close, Hinata got a much better look at Komaeda's features. He had messy white hair and sharp grey eyes, standing stark against pale skin.

Wait.

It seemed Komaeda realised it too. He had a frightened look in his eyes, as if he were a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

"You…"

Gritting his teeth harshly, Hinata closed his hands into fists before swinging one of his arms forward, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy.

"You took my fucking money!!"

Panic set in on Komaeda's face, and hearing Hinata yell was enough to force his primal instincts to kick in. He broke into a full sprint out of the store, knocking down a shelf in the process. This shelf just so happened to come down on Souda, who screamed out in pain as the metal pinned him beneath.

Hinata slid across the counter and took chase, abandoning the store and the mess in his haste. Never in his life had he been this angry about 500 yen. Well, it wasn't really about the money, it was about the fact he'd rubbed one out to a man dressed as a woman, that he had been fantasising about a man dressed as a woman. His pride as a teenage boy had been destroyed in one swift moment.

Fancy dress shoes clacked against the pavement as Komaeda ran down the street, desperate to get away from the angry store clerk mere metres behind him. His stamina was incredibly poor. Hinata's wasn't great, but at least he was forced to participate in PE and maintain his health.

Hinata noticed Komaeda was beginning to slow down and the gap between them shortened. Outstretching an arm, he reached for the back of the boy's jacket, fingers barely brushing the material the first go. With a rush of determination he reached out again, this time getting a solid grip, yanking the boy to him.

He clearly hadn't considered what pulling 65 kilograms towards yourself whilst you're still moving would do, because the next thing Hinata knew he was colliding with the Main Course student and falling forward into the pavement. He hissed as gravel dug into his skin, scraping up his hands and elbows as he landed on top of the other student.

Hinata grabbed the other boy by his hips, flipping them over and straddling his body to prevent any chance of escape. He glared into Komaeda's narrowed eyes, both boys panting heavily in an attempt to catch their breaths.

"You... hah… owe me…" Hinata barely got the words out.

"I… ah…. haha…. I don't…. know you…" As Komaeda wheezed, he tilted his head back to rest against the pavement.

In an attempt to calm his racing heart, Hinata took a big breath of air before exhaling shakily.

"You… you played that sick prank on me… and then you took my money… and now you have the audacity to say you don't know me?!"

"You… you're the one who gave it to me…" Komaeda shot back, a smirk growing on his face.

It seemed Komaeda's mask had been ripped off in the fall, now loosely hanging from one of his ears. His nose was beginning to bleed, crimson liquid dribbling over his dry lips and teeth. His forehead had been grazed as well, Komaeda really had taken quite the tumble.

Suddenly he pushed Hinata hard in the chest, forcing him off his body. An aggressive cough racked Komaeda's lungs, forcing him to sit up as he choked.

"H-hey… are you okay?" Hinata sat back on his knees, feeling a pang of guilt upon seeing the state of Komaeda's physical condition. Had he really just chased down a sick kid?

Komaeda laughed, an incredulous expression painted on his face as he pulled the remaining loop of the mask off his ear. "Don't get all soft on me now, Hinata-kun. I don't need lowly Reserve Course students worrying about my health."

With his patience instantly running out, Hinata was left fuming. Why on earth did he even ask if that guy was okay?! He was clearly just another stuck up rich prick from the Main Course.

Rising to his feet, Hinata wiped some of the dirt off his hands, wincing at the open wounds that had been left from sharp gravel tearing through his skin.

"If I get fired it's your fault!" He spat back, unable to think of anything else to say to save his dignity at this point.

Clenching his hands into fists, Hinata turned away from Komaeda, who was still sprawled out on the pavement. He began his walk back to the convenience store, a little anxious about his employment situation.

Why would a guy even dress up as a chick? Was he getting off on it? Hinata wondered as he walked.

Was Komaeda gay?

Wait, why did the sexuality of a Main Course student even matter to him?

Was… he gay?

Even after finding out that beautiful woman was a man, he still felt so incredibly attracted to him. That flushed out face and those reddened lips had him having physical reactions that he really shouldn't be having.

Hinata buried his face in his grazed palms. This was way too much to process in one day. He paused and took a deep breath, regaining his composure before stepping back into the store.

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After Hinata returned he lied to his coworker, saying Komaeda had been stealing, which was why he left the store so suddenly. Surprisingly enough, Komaeda's Main Course buddies backed up that refute, claiming, "Trouble just follows that guy everywhere." Hinata almost felt bad for him for a second, until he realised it was himself who had to clean up the knocked over shelf.

He didn't see Komaeda again after that.

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Exams were finally over and Hinata now had a chance to relax. He took the late evening Saturday shift to make up for all the shifts he didn't work after the incident, partially due to exams, partially due to fear of running into that Main Course student again. So even if Komaeda had been by, he wouldn't have known about it.

It made the week incredibly boring and frustrating. For some twisted reason, he wanted to see that boy again. He wanted to cuss him out and punch him, show him how useless that Super High School Level title really was against his fists and prove his own worth.

Though, of course, he would be kicked out of Hope's Peak faster than he could agree to the Hope Cultivation Project.

Leaning his elbows onto the counter, Hinata let out a loud sigh at the realisation that Komaeda wasn't the only thing he had to worry about. If he agreed to the project, he could probably quit working. But that would most likely mean he'd never have the chance to see that boy again. Though, it's not like he'd have the balls to approach him on campus anyways.

But if he was talented, he wouldn't have to worry about that kind of thing, right?

Hinata shook the thought from his head, this really wasn't what he wanted to preoccupy his mind with right now.

Perhaps now would be a good time to check if anything needed restocking. Not a lot of people tend to come by after 10pm, which made working these shifts so easy. Though, you were more likely to encounter drunks and unfavourable people. Not to mention the beating Hinata's sleep schedule took if he ever took one on a weeknight.

He yawned and straightened himself up, beginning to peruse the shelves. Usually he left this kind of thing to whoever worked the Sunday morning shift, but he was feeling particularly bored tonight. Somebody must have restocked during the day though, as there were still plenty of snacks stacked on the shelves.

Ugh, the one time he actually wants to work for his money…

Hinata needed something to keep himself from dozing off out of sheer boredom, so he grabbed a can of coffee from the fridge before returning to the counter. He put his palms down and hoisted himself up, sitting up on the surface with his legs hanging down.

Hinata picked his drink back up, cracking it open with a hiss as the air escaped. He took a few large gulps before placing it back down.

He said he wasn't going to think about the Project when he was feeling so tired and distracted, trying to relax, but he really did need to make a decision. He was already in his second year and still unsure of what to do. They were probably going to dump him if he didn't decide soon, and having that choice taken away from him worried him more than agreeing to it.

But he was particularly worried about the consequences of agreeing. There was such a high chance that the surgery could go wrong, be botched. Well, they actually said the risk was rather small, that the Super High School Level Neurologist would be the one leading the surgery. And sure, he trusts in his talent, but letting somebody into your head is just… terrifying.

The door slid open with an electronic ding, startling Hinata. He threw himself off the counter quickly and yelled out his scripted greeting. "G-good evening!! C-can I be of any service?!"

Hinata spun around, turning his eyes to the door and picking up the lingering can that sat on the counter, in full view for any customer to see how he had been slacking off. He saw the familiar brown pleated skirt of the female Main Course's uniform, so naturally he was expecting a girl, yet when he let his eyes wander up he found himself staring at a painfully unforgettable mass of white hair.

"Ko-"

"Ah, you're working tonight. I was expecting the other one." Komaeda muttered, stepping into the store with a rather exaggerated sway of his hips.

Hinata blinked hard, attempting to keep calm enough to recall his coworker's name. "Uh… the guy with black hair?"

Komaeda paused and blinked in return. "What? You don't even know his name? You truly are useless Reserve Course garbage, huh?"

"Hey! I'm not garbage! If anyone here is garbage it's you!" Hinata yelled, slamming his hands onto the counter. "Coming here so late at night in a girl's uniform, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

A sick grin crept up on Komaeda's as he began to move close to Hinata, allowing the other to get a better look at his getup.

He was wearing tall white socks with black flats. His skirt was much too short, showing off an inappropriate amount of thigh with every movement. Beneath the matching brown blazer was a beige cardigan and a white dress shirt, tied up cutesy with a red ribbon tie. This time he wore no makeup and had done nothing with his hair, just the girly clothes.

"It's true, I am pure scum. This hobby of mine may be disgusting, perverted, messed up, whatever word you want to use to describe it." Komaeda paused for a second before leaning closer. "But nothing I do will ever be as shameful as your pathetic attempts to be something you could never be."

Something in Hinata snapped at those words. He found himself grabbing Komaeda's collar, gripping the fabric tightly in his fist before pulling him across the counter. Hinata raised his fist, gritting his teeth as he went to take a swing at the other boy. However, a coherent thought reached his mind in the last second, and he stopped himself before it could make contact with Komaeda's face.

Komaeda's face twisted into a big grin. "Do it. See what happens. I dare you." His eyes swirled with a strange emotion. Excitement? Fear? He couldn’t say for certain.

Hinata's teeth worried at his lip as he considered it briefly. He could hit him, he was right there. Hitting him would bring him the justice and the relief he had been craving all week, spite that had wound tightly up in his gut whilst sitting all those horrendous exams.

He bit down on his lip hard, before letting go of the other boy with a sigh. "You're not worth it."

Leaning his elbows onto the counter, Komaeda propped his chin up with his hands and gave Hinata a wide smile. He kicked his legs up off the floor, allowing it to bear his full weight. "Say, Reserve Course, why are you so angry anyway?"

"I have a name." Hinata snapped at him. "And why wouldn't I be mad? You deceived me and have the gall to keep insulting me like that."

"Calling you Reserve Course isn't an insult, it's a fact. If you're the one getting upset, then you must truly realise how much of an embarassment you are huh?" Voice practically dropping with mockery, Komaeda tilted his head slighty to the side.

"Shut up. I can tell you're just trying to rile me up." Hinata spat, looking away from the boy in front of him. "Get off the counter before somebody else sees you."

"No thanks! Is that really what you're mad about? A random stranger whom you have nothing to do with just so happens to be crossdressing? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're either a homophobic prick, or you're mad at yourself for being into it." Komaeda stared right into Hinata, refusing to avert his eyes in an attempt to draw his attention back.

And he was successful, as Hinata was now staring with his mouth agape and cheeks red. "I- I'm not into it!"

"I see! So you're homophobic then?"

"No!!"

"Are you sure?"

"Very!"

"Hmph, suit yourself." Komaeda laughed softly before shimmying himself back off the counter. He picked up Hinata's can of drink, making eye contact with the boy as he took a sip.

"H-hey! That's my drink!" Hinata stuttered out, still somewhat shaken by the accusation.

Komaeda recoiled and groaned. "So bitter… how can you drink this stuff?"

The other boy shrugged. "It's coffee, it's always bitter. Why did you even drink it if you don't like it?"

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Komaeda placed the drink back onto the counter. "Are all of you Reserve Course students this inane?"

"What? What are you even talking about?" Hinata blinked hard, trying to recall if he had missed something.

Komaeda made a frustrated noise before walking around to behind the counter with yet another expression that Hinata couldn’t quite place. He blurted out a "Hey, you can't be back he-" before having his words cut off by the other boy grabbing his shirt with two hands and planting his lips on his.

Hinata gasped, which gave Komaeda the chance to deepen the kiss and lick at the inside of his mouth. His brain was now running at a million miles an hour, trying desperately to comprehend what the fuck was going on.

The guy who's been making him question his sexuality rocks up to the place he works, dressed in a girl's uniform, and then proceeds to rile him up, insult him, before shoving his tongue into his mouth?

Hinata pushed the other boy away from him, his face rapidly heating up and his pants feeling a bit tighter than before. "Look, Komaeda, I really don't appreciate you making fun of me like this!"

There was an utterly dumbfounded look on Komaeda's face that simply furthered Hinata's confusion. "You still don't get it? I'm trying to seduce you."

"Hah?"

"I want you to fuck me, Hinata-kun."

Hinata's mind completely blanked. That was ridiculous. Komaeda was a rude Main course bastard who seemingly just swung by Hinata’s workplace to make a mockery of him, the dots didn't connect whatsoever. Complications aside, he couldn't deny those words sent his teenage boy heart racing. "B-But you hate me?"

"And?"

"And?!"

"You're hot." Komaeda took a shaky breath, suddenly getting a little more nervous, "Just… say whether or not you want to have sex with me."

"I-I do!!” After blurting out the confession, Hinata averted his gaze to the floor. His face felt like it was on fire at this point. “It's just… uh… I've never done anything… uh… with anyone before."

A loud, wheezy cackle left Komaeda, one that caused him to shake and grab at his shirt as he howled. Hinata watched in confusion and Komaeda fought for his breath, still giggling away until the humour finally began to wear off. He stopped and suddenly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh good, I thought I was going to have to break it to you that you’re gay."

"Shut up." Hinata hissed. "You pretty much already did, anyway."

For a second there, Komaeda almost looked shocked, but his expression quickly morphed into a grin. "Was I the one who awakened you? That's incredibly high praise, Hinata-kun."

He draped his arms around Hinata's shoulders, still wearing a cocky smile as he leaned in close once again. This time Hinata took the initiative, twirling Komaeda around and forcing him into the wall behind them before desperately kissing him.

Komaeda flinched, not expecting the rough treatment, but definitely welcoming it. He bit at Hinata's lips as the boy's hands slid down his sides, feeling him up. A moan slipped from Komaeda as a hand ran up his shirt, fingertips grazing along his skin and up to his chest.

Upon feeling lacy fabric, Hinata pulled away from the kiss for a moment. "Are you… wearing lingerie?"

Komaeda giggled softly. "Of course I am, there's no point in dressing like a girl if you aren't going to go the whole mile."

Hinata shook his head, chuckling to himself at the absurdity of the situation. "We're really doing this huh? I don't even have any condoms or lube…"

Komaeda glanced behind Hinata, eyeing the shelf of 18+ items. Hinata followed his eyes, breathing an "Ah." in response. "But what about the store?"

"I can guarantee right now that nobody will come in. I'm not good for much, but this kind of thing I am." Komaeda cracked a near elated smile, happy to finally have his talent be useful.

Despite still seeming somewhat confused, Hinata nodded in agreeance. "Okay… but what about the cameras? Surely they wi-"

That smile on Komaeda's face fell. "If you make another excuse I'm leaving."

"Okay okay!" Hinata put his hands up, stepping back from Komaeda with a huff. He wandered to the front of the store to flip over the 'Back in 5 minutes' sign and lock the doors. He felt it was completely unnecessary, but Komaeda let Hinata waste his time with it anyway.

He decided to take advantage of the moment and grab a pack of condoms and a small tube of lubricant. Any footage on the cameras of him taking the items would go mysteriously missing, after all, the sheer amount of bad luck he had been experiencing for the past week practically guaranteed the night's success.

He opened up the condom pack, ‘Ribbed for her pleasure.’ He couldn't suppress the urge to giggle, pulling one out before slipping it into the breast pocket of his shirt.

When Komaeda looked up again, Hinata was watching him with a nervous stare. His forehead shimmered a little with sweat from the head, and the tight sleeves of Hinata's shirt squeezed around his biceps. He was well built, shirt fitting a little too snugly around his pecs.

He could only hope this Reserve Course boy was as good as he looked.

"Where would you like to do it then, Hinata-kun?"

Hinata shuddered, a rush of arousal burning through him at the sound of Komaeda's sultry voice. It was embarrassing just how much it turned him on.

"T-The back room…" He stammered out, once again forcing himself to look away from Komaeda.

"Well then," Komaeda grabbed ahold of Hinata's twist, causing him to gasp, "The back room it is."

The irony of being led around his own workplace escaped Hinata, who was currently too dizzy with arousal and heat to even walk straight.

Komaeda pushed the door open, pulling Hinata into the break room where it was much cooler, seeing as the air conditioner didn't have to fight with the heat exhaust from the fridges. The two of them paused for a moment, revelling in the cool air as Komaeda swiped at his brow and Hinata aired his shirt.

"S-So, uh…"

Before Hinata could stammer out whatever stupid question that would kill Komaeda's mood, he turned to face him with a smile and put his hands on the boy's hips. Hinata complied as he was slowly walked backwards, admiring the passionate look burning in Komaeda's intense grey eyes. The same ones he admired so deeply upon their first encounter, yet avoided out of nervousness.

This time Hinata was still shaking with nerves, making a startled noise when the back of his knees hit something hard. Komaeda chuckled at his apprehension, voice calm and soothing as he guided him down to sit on the object he presumed to be a chair.

Hinata's thighs shook as Komaeda leaned his hands onto them, using them to balance himself as he straddled his waist in a way that pushed their groins much too close. A soft sigh escaped Komaeda's lips as he settled into Hinata's lap, a smile turning up at the corners of his mouth.

"A-Are you sure this is safe? These chairs are kinda, uh, shitty." He averted his gaze, mouth going dry as he babbled out the words. "I-I-I mean, t-they aren't really meant to support, uh, lots of weight…"

That smile simply got wider, flashing Komaeda's pearly white teeth beneath it. "Mm, we'll see."

Before Hinata could blurt out another objection, Komaeda's lips slotted against his in an aggressive kiss. He barely realised what was happening before Komaeda was already giving swipes of tongue against his lips.

Apparently that was all it took for Hinata's brain to give up on caring about Workplace Safety. His head felt light and dizzy as he reciprocated the movement, moaning softly against the other's lips when their tongues made contact and indulged in a sweet moment of friction.

Komaeda sucked passionately at his tongue in a way that created all sorts of lewd and slick noises that went straight to Hinata's dick. He must have felt it too, because next thing Hinata knew Komaeda was rolling his hips forwards, grinding into the other's crotch in a way that made both of them moan from the soft friction and pressure.

When they finally broke off the kiss, Komaeda was left panting with a little smirk on his face. His cheeks flushed a soft red as his eyes slid down over Hinata's reddened lips, wandering until they fell onto his chest. Pale hands wandered to the collar of Hinata's work shirt, fingers taking hold of the fabric and beginning to undo the two buttons.

With a little bit of Hinata's chest exposed, Komaeda could finally start to see what it was he had been working so hard for. He pressed his hands against Hinata's pecs, smoothing them down across his torso until he reached the hem of the fabric. For the first time tonight, Hinata was completely focused, already raising his arms to make it easier for Komaeda to pull his shirt up and over his head.

The shirt was quickly tossed aside, left abandoned on the floor as the fabric was replaced by hands stroking over Hinata's chest.

A pleased hum could be heard as Komaeda gave his pecs a gentle squeeze. "That shirt isn't very flattering for your body, it makes you look skinny."

“Uh, thank you?”

Hinata wasn’t really sure what to do with his hands as he raised them up to rest on Komaeda’s shoulders, an action that brought out another gentle laugh from him. Removing his hands from Hinata’s chest, Komaeda placed them on top of his own, guiding them downwards past his collarbone and over his chest. Not once did Hinata’s eyes stray from his hands.

Komaeda continued to guide them down, over the subtle curve of his hips until they settled into the pale flesh of his thighs. A light pressure was applied as Hinata buried his fingers into the soft skin, squeezing slightly. This elicited a pleased sigh from Komaeda, who shifted forwards to guide Hinata’s hands to his ass.

A groan barely escaped past Hinata’s gritted teeth as his pants rubbed against his erection. He gripped the flesh tighter, spreading Komaeda’s ass cheeks as he ground his hips upwards. The sensation was overwhelmingly good, sending shocks of pleasure down Hinata’s spine and making his head spin with need .

Those slender fingers returned to Hinata’s chest, brushing over his nipple before taking it between two fingers and squeezing gently. This pulled another moan from Hinata’s throat, and he thrust his hips up again.

“You’re awfully sensitive.” A tighter pinch had Hinata letting out a high squeak, which made him flush bright red in embarrassment. “I know I’m the one wearing a skirt, but if anything you’re more like a girl than I am.”

Hinata resented the way Komaeda’s teasing seemed to go straight to his dick. He pushed his hips forward again, repeating the motion in order to get more friction on his unbearably hard cock. Another rush of pleasure shot through his veins, making Hinata shudder and moan.

In order to silence the awful comments that were shortening his patience in more ways than one, Hinata leaned upwards and pulled at Komaeda’s bottom lip with his teeth. This seemed to get the point across, as Komaeda stopped teasing at his nipples and kissed Hinata deeply, open mouthed and messy.

No teases of tongue, the kiss instantly descended into something filthy and desperate. Teeth clacked against each other painfully as both boys tried to taste as much of one another as they could, the bitter taste of coffee still lingering on Hinata’s tongue.

Hinata’s eyes fluttered closed as he drank in the sensation of Komaeda licking into his mouth and grinding against his crotch. With each breathy moan from the boy above him, he could feel a heat tightening more and more in his lower gut. He moaned against Komaeda’s tongue, gripping his ass tighter and he began to shake slightly with the need for release.

“Wait wait wait.” The boy above him suddenly pulled away, leaving a long string of saliva that broke in the air. He stilled the movements of his hips and spread his palm against Hinata’s chest, “You’re way too worked up. I know you’re a Reserve Course and everything, but surely you’re not going to cum in your pants before we’ve even started?”

There was an annoyed look on Komaeda’s face, one beyond the cocky teasing, like he was genuinely upset by the reaction he had drawn from Hinata.

Hinata’s brow furrowed. “What does being from the Reserve course have to do with anything?”

With a soft little “Hmph,” Komaeda shifted forward and lifted some of his weight off Hinata’s lap. He reached into the pocket of his blazer, pulling the bottle of lube he’d acquired earlier out before shedding the garment and dropping it onto the floor where Hinata’s shirt had landed previously.

Holding the lube in one hand, he began to undo the buttons on his cardigan. Hinata watched closely, focusing on Komaeda’s careful fingers instead of his painful erection in hopes of getting his heart to calm down. Once he’d undone the buttons, Komaeda removed his cardigan, leaving him in a well ironed long-sleeved dress shirt that was rather loose in the chest area.

“U-Um… I’m a little uh…” Hinata’s eyes followed the movements of Komaeda’s hands as the boy uncapped the bottle and drizzled some of the clear liquid onto his fingers.

A rather sadistic laugh echoed off the walls of the room as Komaeda cackled loudly. “You’re so precious Hinata-kun! Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. Unless you would like to help?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Blinking away the confusion, Hinata stared up at Komaeda expectantly, “Just tell me what to do.”

The lid snapped shut and the bottle was placed onto the table next to them. Komaeda brought his fingers behind his back with a flirty smirk. “Well then, could you please move my panties out of the way?”

With a nod, Hinata slowly brought his fingers forward, hooking one around the lacy thong before tugging it out of the crevice of Komaeda’s ass. He tried to ignore the burning in his face as he tugged the cheeks apart a little, giving Komaeda better access as he brought his fingers to his hole.

There was a pause of silence, before Komaeda let out a rather gentle sigh, relaxing his whole body. He then pushed two fingers into himself with relative ease, having already been there numerous times this week. Entranced, Hinata watched Komaeda’s expression soften as he adjusted to the feeling of having something inside him.

It didn’t take long for him to begin moving his fingers, slowly thrusting them inside himself and drawing them back out again. He scissored the digits apart, stretching the tight muscle and ignoring the slight burn.

Unsure of what to do, Hinata settled for observing every little reaction on Komaeda’s face. The gentle bites of his bottom lip, the soft gasps that came whenever he pushed further than he expected to, the dusting of blush on his cheeks. He couldn’t get enough, it was simply so erotic to watch and only made him more excited for the final act.

Noticing Hinata’s interest, Komaeda placed his free hand over Hinata’s right, pulling him closer. He pulled his fingers out of his hole before rubbing some of the lube off onto Hinata’s index and middle finger. The guideless letters floating in Hinata’s mind finally spelled out an answer, he wants me to finger him .

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Hinata nodded and rubbed his fingers against Komaeda’s entrance. He tried his best to go slow so as to not hurt him, but his fingers easily squeezed in, much to Komaeda’s delight.

All Hinata could process was how warm it was inside another person. He moved his fingers experimentally, rubbing at the soft walls with a childish feeling of intrigue.

“Doesn’t it feel nice?” As soon as Komaeda said that, he clamped down against Hinata’s fingers, drawing a gasp from him. “Think about how good it will feel to be inside an Ultimate. Wouldn't you like that, Hinata-kun?"

Hinata did allow the thought to pass through his mind, being buried balls deep within that soft warmth, the friction as Komaeda squeezed down around him. To answer Komaeda’s question, Hinata pushed his fingers deeper, eliciting a gasp from the other.

“You know… you never did tell me your Ultimate talent?” Lowering his voice, Hinata tried to sound like he had a better grip on the situation than he actually did.

Komaeda fluttered his eyelashes innocently, Hinata couldn’t tell if it was intended or not. “Ah, I never did, did I? It’s a rather boring and worthless talent, but a talent nonetheless.”

Ignoring the seething little rage that burned in his chest at hearing Komaeda say a talent was ‘worthless’, Hinata withdrew his fingers. “So, what is it then?”

There was a soft hum of appreciation from Komaeda, and he slid off the other’s lap. “I won the lottery for my year, I am the 77th’s Ultimate Lucky Student.”

“Seriously?!” Hinata had to keep himself from gasping in excitement, his obsession with talent coming close to overriding all horny thoughts from the moment prior. That’s so--!”

“Lucky?” As he planted his feet on the floor and stood up, Komaeda couldn’t help but insert the snarky comment.

Pursing his lips, Hinata watched as Komaeda leant down and brought his hands to Hinata’s belt. “Cool... I was going to say cool.”

Another soft hum left the other boy as he unclasped Hinata’s belt. That was enough to bring Hinata’s thoughts away from Komaeda’s talent and back to how hard he was. Komaeda undid the button and fly of Hinata's work pants, the other helped by lifting his hips and shucking them down slightly, exposing part of his ass to the uncomfortably cool metal of the chair.

Reaching into Hinata’s boxers, Komaeda wrapped his fingers around the length before pulling it out from beneath Hinata’s sakura printed boxers. Both the relief of being freed from the tight fabric and the sensation of being touched by a hand that wasn't his own were overwhelming, and Hinata practically stopped breathing right then and there.

“Wow, you’re bigger than I expected a Reserve to be.” Giggling at Hinata’s reaction, Komaeda gave his cock a gentle stroke downwards in order to expose the flushed head.

Hinata blinked hard, processing just how stupid that comment was. “I still don’t understand why you think talent and dick size have any correlation.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Komaeda began to slowly jerk Hinata, spreading precum across the shaft whilst bringing his other hand to his breast pocket. There was a loud moan of relief from Hinata, and he allowed his eyes to fall on Komaeda’s hand, his brain dismissing his incredulity.

Withdrawing a shiny packet from his breast pocket, Komaeda brought it to his mouth before tearing it open with his teeth. Using one hand, he pulled a translucent green condom from the packet, allowing the litter to fall to the floor.

He removed his hand from Hinata’s dick, drawing a whine of impatience from the boy that amused him greatly. He brought the condom to the head, pinching the tip as he began to slowly unroll the latex down to fit snugly around his cock. When he looked up again, Hintata was biting his lip and watching with bated breath.

“Adjust it if it’s uncomfortable, otherwise it’ll probably end up tearing.” Straightening himself back up, Komaeda placed his hands on his hips with a soft sigh.

With a gentle nod, Hinata brought his hand down to adjust the condom. It was an incredibly foreign sensation, but necessary, at least this time.

Komaeda slid his hands down his hips, then under his skirt and back up again, giving Hinata a glimpse of the lacy pink panties hidden beneath. He hooked his thumbs around the waistband, and pulled them down to the floor before stepping out of them.

Flashing a flirty smirk, Komaeda wrapped his hand around Hinata’s erection, drawing a surprised yelp from him. He swung a leg over Hinata’s waist, beginning to mount him once again. Angling Hinata’s cock, he attempted to bring it to his prepared entrance. He seemed to be struggling to find it, and bending his arm back was beginning to hurt. Seeing his difficulty, Hinata placed his hand over Komaeda’s and helped him line it up with his hole. With a satisfied exhale, Komaeda placed his hands on Hinata’s shoulders and began to slowly sink down.

Nothing could have prepared Hinata for the sheer heat that engulfed his cock. It felt so much better than his hand ever could, even more so than having his fingers inside Komaeda did. It seemed that Komaeda was enjoying it too, because his eyes were squeezed tightly shut and mouth open wide in surprise.

“Oh shit .” Hinata gasped as Komaeda lowered himself completely, taking the entirety of his length with one movement. He gripped at those skinny hips, desperately seeking something to put him in a little control and his brain succumbed to ecstasy.

"Haha!" Giggling to himself, Komaeda slowly drew his hips back up. "You really are a virgin, aren't you Hinata-kun?"

It felt as though Hinata's face were on fire, "I-I already told you that!"

Bony hands fingers dug into Hinata’s shoulders as Komaeda dropped back down again, forcing Hinata to bite his lip so as to not let out another embarrassing sound. Slow drags up and down, plunging Hinata back into that tight heaven of friction and ecstasy. He allowed his head to tilt back, letting out a gentle sigh as Komaeda set a slow yet pleasurable pace. The kind of pace that set the mood, eased him into it, left both of them craving more. When his eyelids inevitably flickered shut, Hinata felt as though he were floating. The humidity was getting to him, along with those sickly wet sounds and heavy breathing warm on his skin. The warm weight of Komaeda’s body pressing against his made it all too easy to take whatever he was offering, to forget all of that assholeish shit he said and did in the past week.

The need winding around his gut was pulling tighter and tighter, his hips beginning to move up to meet Komaeda’s. He wanted more, if he was going to cum he needed more than just this. Hinata’s eyes flittered open, and he glanced down to his hands. Komaeda’s pleated brown skirt rested just beneath his fingertips, material all bunched up at the sides with a little bulge tenting it at the front. He couldn’t resist the urge to slide his right hands down Komaeda’s pelvis, carefully dragging his fingers over the bulge until he reached the tip.

“A-Ah!”

Startling, Komaeda almost jumped right off Hinata’s lap. His breathing was heavy and wheezy, lungs quietly rattling as he tried to catch his breath. The pale skin of Komaeda's face had flushed to a bright pink, he looked like he was going to throw up.

"Hey, wait…" Hinata murmured, tipping his head back up. "You don't look too hot."

There was a soft chuckle, followed by Komaeda clasping a hand over his mouth as he broke into a coughing fit. He dug his left hand tightly into Hinata's shoulder, stabilising himself as his body shook.

"Have you finally come to your senses, Hinata-kun? Though, can you really be that picky?" He croaked out, giggling between coughs. "You are a Reserve Course student, after all."

Sitting up, Hinata grabbed hold of Komaeda's waist again. "Hey! No no I'm not talking about that. You were sick the other day, weren't you?"

"Ah, I've had a cold that has been rather difficult to shake." Sheepishly, Komaeda averted his gaze to the floor. "Are you worried about catching it? I'm sure it's not something viral."

"I'm not worried about that, I'm worried about you going into respiratory failure!"

Komaeda laughed dryly, an almost bitter sound. "It is always a possibility! Trust in my luck to kill me the second I get a good thing."

Confused, Hinata blinked a few times. "Do you want to stop?"

"Do I want to stop…?"

Komaeda paused, repositioning himself in Hinata's lap as he considered his next move. He didn't want to stop; he was so glad to be finally here, to be doing this. Something so dangerous and taboo, and with a student who was not only beneath him, but a complete stranger.

The exact kind of scenario in which his luck could be completely unpredictable. The nervous feeling bubbling in his chest caused a creepy smile to twitch at the corners of his mouth.

"Not at all!" He chirped.

The cheery tone only furthered the furrow in Hinata's brow. "Seriously, you look like you're about to pass out, let me-"

"Don't get all soft on me now, Hinata-kun. I don't need lowly Reserve Course students worrying about my health."

Hinata blinked hard, recalling what Komaeda had said to him the day he'd discovered his dirty secret. The scowl on Komaeda's face as he glared up at him, the blood dripping down his lips, only to spatter against the concrete.

Komaeda didn't need sympathy. Komaeda didn't want sympathy.

His hands slid under the other's boy's thighs, gripping tightly and pulling him closer. Before Komaeda could understand what was happening, Hinata rose to his feet, picking up Komaeda with him and causing the other to gasp in surprise. He wrapped his legs tightly around Hinata's torso, fearing that he may be dropped.

Hinata pushed him down into the table, forcing him forward until his back was flush against the cold plastic. A can of drink was knocked over in their wake, and Komaeda did not neglect to notice the open manga and discarded plastic wrappers by his head.

Messy…

"Oh? Getting rough with a Main Course student are we?" Komaeda giggled, setting himself off into another series of coughs and barks.

"You were taking too long, it's my turn now."

Hinata slammed his hands down beside Komaeda's head and thrust his hips forward, pressing himself deep into the other boy. Blunt nails scraped against the plastic as Komaeda wheezed, his legs strangling around Hinata's waist.

"You really love this power dynamic thing, don't you? Did you seek me out specifically because you wanted to be fucked by somebody inferior to you?" Digging his nails into Komaeda's skin, Hinata moved with reckless abandon. "You're disgusting, Main Course students really are all the same."

It made Hinata seethe with an unbearable anger. He had never felt this pissed in his life, wound up so tightly that all he wanted to do was hit Komaeda until that stupid smile fell right off his face. But he couldn't deny just how good it felt, being put in his place by a girl dressed in her school uniform, the irrefutable proof that she was better than him.

But Komaeda was not a girl. No matter how feminine he looked, his hips were narrow and chest flat. His skirt had ridden up, exposing his cock that was bouncing against his stomach as Hinata fucked him, having slipped out of his lingerie quite some time ago. His little raspy moans and gasps sounded pretty girlish, though, and that was enough for Hinata.

“A-Ah you’re… hah! Come on you can do a little better than— f-fuck!”

Unable to resist the urge, Komaeda kept taunting him. Hinata was endlessly unamused by this, resorting to tilting his hips in order to get closer to Komaeda's prostate.

At least, that's what he was hoping. It was up, right?

A lucky guess, he supposed, and Komaeda was broken into whimpers. He scrabbled for the edges of the table, gripping tightly as it creaked beneath him.

It was overwhelming, the pleasure and excitement becoming too much for Komaeda. It felt like he was going insane, being rocked into so hard it was almost painful. The little giggles he made amongst the moans and whimpers were involuntary, but with every passing second he felt higher and higher. Closer and closer to reaching something amazing.

Is this what hope feels like?

It was a stupid thing to wonder.

Hinata himself felt as though he were melting, brain fuzzy with anger and arousal. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he panted, exhaustion beginning to catch up on him even though he was oh so close.

He leaned in close, burning his face in Komaeda's neck as he panted. The movements of his hips were beginning to stutter and slow, he was failing.

"Please…" Komaeda whined, wrapping his arms tightly around Hinata's neck. "Please please come on even a useless Reserve like you should be able to finish me off!"

"Sh-shut up."

The growl came out harsher than Hinata had expected. To apologise, he grabbed ahold of Komaeda's face with his left hand, kissing him firmly on the lips as he attempted to move faster. Komaeda eagerly licked into his mouth in gratitude.

Hinata was unable to hold down all of his sweet moans and pants when Komaeda was tonguing his gums like some kind of puppy. He groaned into the other boy's mouth.

How is he enjoying this so much? Surely it can't feel that good down there…

He creeped his other hand down to Komaeda's skirt, sliding his hand beneath it and carefully wrapping his fingers around his cock. His dick was practically drooling with precum, wet enough that he probably could have been mistaken for a girl. Komaeda's eyes widened in trepidation, and he pulled away from the kiss as Hinata stroked his hand down the shaft.

The word didn't even make it past Komaeda's lips, all he could do was mouth "Faster."

Thus Hinata obliged, allowing his hand to glide faster with the slickness of Komaeda’s skin. It felt incredibly awkward, moving his hips desperately whilst jerking his lover at a much faster pace than he could synchronise with, not to mention just how sloppy and pathetic their kisses were becoming with each passing second. At this point they were just pressing their lips against one other’s and licking.

At least Komaeda wasn’t hypocritical enough to make fun of him for his technique.

Komaeda’s thighs were tensing, and his hips were lifting from the table. He was whimpering like a dog in heat, barely breathing little pleads and begs. He was clearly so close, and Hinata could feel his own release creeping through his guts too.

He broke off whatever semblance of a kiss they were still doing pressed his left hand against the table, using it as a support as he practically jackhammered Komaeda’s ass.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, panting and moaning, as well as the squeaking of the table beneath their weight. Komaeda suddenly yelled out, digging his nails harshly into Hinata’s back as his hips thrust up to meet his hand.

His voice broke as he came, white stripes of cum painting his dress shirt as Hinata stroked him through his orgasm. Komaeda was shaking beneath his touch, breaths laboured and wheezy.

A rivulet of sweat rolled down Hinata’s forehead. He kept thrusting his hips, unconcerned with overstimulating the boy beneath him. He was just so close, he could feel it rising in his chest. Just a little more, just a little more and--

“Hinata-kun!”

There was a loud crack, followed by the sound of metal scraping against itself, and suddenly they were both falling to the floor.

Hinata grabbed a tight hold of Komaeda, gasping when they both landed on the cold linoleum. It all happened so fast. With so much adrenaline pumping through his veins, Hinata didn't even notice he had squeezed his eyes shut at some point.

Slowly opening them again, the first thing he did was look at Komaeda. The boy’s grey eyes were open wide in shock, face still flushed red and lips swollen from their activities, but he seemed mostly unharmed.

He pulled out of Komaeda, dick still aching with a need left unfulfilled as he crawled off of him. Komaeda also sat himself up, dusting off his shirt dramatically as though he hadn't cum all over it moments before.

“Hey… are you okay?”

Komaeda’s only response was to look at Hinata with those wide eyes, then to stare straight past him. A few seconds later he was giggling, soon breaking into a fit of raucous laughter.

Confused, Hinata turned around to look behind himself, eyeing the folding table in a crumpled heap on the floor.

He couldn't believe it.

They’d broken the table. They’d broken the fucking table, he’d been blue-balled by a fucking table, and Komaeda was sitting there laughing like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

#Danganronpa #Inappropriate #Komaeda Nagito #Hinata Hajime #Komahina #Dr3 #Ficgiri #SDR2Giftober

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years

Text

Exposure

[15Min Read/3.8K Words - Idol AU - Jungwoo x Paparazzi Female Reader - NSFW/Smut - Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Fellatio, Light Degradation, Dom/Sub Elements]

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Your braids felt too tight. They probably were, but you had rushed to get out to this fanmeet when you caught wind of it. Your boss understood your strengths, and you weren’t about to let that down. Once you were able to get your shots, you wouldn't even think about the dumb braids anymore.

It all started when an exec tried to say you looked too young to be successful as a photographer. No one would take you seriously looking like a high schooler, apparently, and it ruined you for days until you passed by a group of fans waiting for their favorite actor to make an appearance at the mall. These girls got so close and they could get into events that press weren’t allowed into. Even though you had openly applied for a sketchy tabloid job, you knew you needed credits to get ahead, and now you wanted to prove yourself. You had ran home, dug out your high school sweatshirt, pulled your hair into some pigtails, and were able to give the same exec who turned you down some great candid shots.

So this is what you did now. You perfectly fit in with the gaggles of fansites that would crowd these events, and no one gave you any second glances. You carried your press badge hidden behind a photo card on a lanyard attached to your camera, swapping out photocards for whatever group you were chasing. Today was NCT 127, so the photocard attached to your camera was of Kim Doyoung who, according to your boss, was in talks for some new ventures and could use some new publicity.

You had chased the group for three days now but every time you attempted a good shot of him, Kim Jungwoo kept getting in the way. They were always shopping together or eating together or doing nothing at home together and you couldn’t get any good shots of this idol alone and the whole chase was driving you crazy. This fire in you blazed when you took this new batch of photos into editing and you noticed. Jungwoo recognized you. More and more in these shots, Jungwoo had caught you in the background of his day, and today he even smiled at you.

Your boss wasn’t pleased when you said you needed even more time to get some more shots, but nonetheless you still used the company’s money to get yourself on a train for the group’s next concert. This time, in addition to your girlish appearance, you had your equipment stashed in a backpack that you carried with you. You skipped the long line, though, and headed straight to the loading gate in the back of the venue. Press would never be allowed back here, but nonetheless you still walked up to security and did your best to look nervously excited.

“Oppa,” you modestly smiled at the young guard, really only looking a few years older than you, “you know, it's my birthday, and I saved up money from my part-time job for this concert for months to come here. I really would love to make it even more special.” The man shifted uncomfortably, clearly conflicted about throwing out a young woman just wanting to have a special day until you whipped out a small wad of cash to tuck into the pocket of his trousers. He bit his lip and slipped you a wristband before he ultimately stepped out of the way to let you in, pointing you towards the green room where you and the other groupies could wait.

You took your time navigating the back hallways of the venue, looking bright-eyed and lost and waiting to sneak out your smaller camera for locations like this. You clipped your press badge onto the strap as you slowly made your way through the backstage area, checking around green rooms and craft services before you came to the makeup rooms. It seemed fruitless, seeing these hallways were much emptier than those you just checked, but you needed to be sure. You slowly made your way down this corridor, taking the time to peek into every open door from the hallway, listening for voices and footsteps all the while, until a hint of motion caught your eye.

Without making any brash movements in the quiet hall, all you were able to make out was the sinful visual of a figure leaned back over a vanity in an otherwise silent and empty dressing room, a hand stroking their exposed length in their near-privacy. You didn't gasp, you didn't blush, you just felt yourself watch, almost shamelessly enjoying this little private show before the figure pleasuring themselves against the vanity straightened up, their pace on their cock quickening. Jungwoo turned and looked right at you, and now you did gasp, caught as you were, spying on him as he jerked himself. He didn't stop, either. He just watched you watching him, never letting go of himself or slowing. If anything, he became more earnest in his ministrations, holding eye contact as long as you could handle until you were suddenly very aware of yourself. Quickly, you dashed back down the hall, writing this venture off as a wash and trying to find Doyoung somewhere else.

In order to try and shake off the very different and very unprecedented incident that occurred backstage, you took the first vanilla opportunity your boss softballed out to the staff: a simple press event, a small demo and cocktail party for a trending fashion designer. Thankfully, even Doyoung was invited. You could probably get some good shots and have an easy night all things considered. You picked out a simple dress and jacket, something that wouldn’t make you stand out too much, and clipped your press badge onto a plain black lanyard to actually wear around your neck. Wearing your hair down was an active treat, not having to look forward to sore roots later in the night.

The party was pretty boring, but boring was what you needed. You were thoroughly set on edge after the other day, and you couldn't place why. You’d seen Kim Jungwoo in a few magazines and occasionally on TV when his group was doing variety, and more than a few times when out doing bigger industry events, but he’d never struck you as the devilish type. However, something about the way he confidently, almost defiantly held your gaze practically stupefied you, even days later. Finally, you caught sight of Doyoung, laughing and having a glass of wine with other tall, beautiful people. You grabbed a few shots before covering the rest of the party, but something caught your eye when you clicked through your digital display to review. Jungwoo. He’d brought Jungwoo with him.

“It’s a school night,” came a soft laugh over your shoulder, “shouldn’t you be home studying?”

You turned, rapidly growing sheepish as you were faced with Kim Jungwoo standing over you. “I’m sorry?” You apologized as you did your best to look like you didn’t understand.

“I was wondering when I'd see you again,” Jungwoo smirked, his soft eyes holding a mischievous sparkle in them. “How did you get in here?”

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else,” you smiled cordially.

“No,” Jungwoo insisted playfully, “I think you look like Doyoung-hyung’s new fansite I've caught poking around.”

“Fansite?” You shook your head gravely. “I'm sorry, sir, but I'm Press.” You held up your badge on your lanyard, jolting as Jungwoo brazenly reached forward to grab it. He flipped it around to expose Doyoung’s photocard. You must've forgotten to take it out amidst all your distraction.

“Did you enjoy your private show the other day?” Jungwoo chuckled, even stepping closer to talk low in the crowded party. “You could've joined me. I could've given you something worth shooting.” Jungwoo’s smile was genuine, soft and playful and innocent, but his eyes were hungry enough to make you plenty content with your coverage for the night and hurriedly excuse yourself from him and the party.

You should have guessed, then, that your boss wouldn’t be pleased to hear that you’d left early. None of your shots of Doyoung had been “provoking” enough for some affiliates, and now you were perched in the bushes outside of the group’s apartment in a last-ditch effort to catch something exposing, something titillating. You had waited all night, watching people come and go and you finally caught some action in an upstairs bedroom. The focus in your camera quietly clicked along after you zoomed in to get a better look. You clicked up your exposure length as you watched with endless satisfaction, catching Doyoung finally get out of bed to work out. He slipped his shirt off over his head, and you got to work, snapping shots of Doyoung’s measly workout routine before he retreated to go take a shower. You sighed, getting ready to pack up when a presence behind you made you gasp.

“You'll never graduate if you're always sneaking out,” Jungwoo smiled in the dark.

“What're you doing?” You asked accusingly.

“Me? I'm just going for a walk. You want to come with me?” You sought after a cheeky remark before Jungwoo pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you with the flash on, making you see spots. “See? I can take pictures, too. And I can show this to management and tell them all about the paparazzi posing as an adorable schoolgirl outside. How about that walk?”

You bounced your knee a little, shifting your weight from one foot to the other before you nodded.

Jungwoo offered you his arm and you curiously linked yours through, watching as he immediately softened and acted like this was just a fun night between two friends taking a walk in the nearby park, except you were still dressed in all black with your camera around your neck.

“I did a little snooping of my own,” Jungwoo mentioned, “after I saw your badge the other night. You take really good photos. You don't need to be doing this gonzo work.”

“I'm good at it,” you shrugged, “and I need the credits in my resume.”

“Well how many more do you need?” He asked you. Jungwoo’s tone caught your attention -- he was sincere. He was honestly interested in why you were okay doing this.

“I'll move on when I'm ready to move on--”

“You sure this isn't just easy?”

“Are you implying my work is degrading?”

“I'm saying your work is sleazy and gross,” Jungwoo huffed at you, “and I'd be a lot more attracted to you than I already am if you did work closer to your caliber.”

You paused, aghast. “Why aren't you more attracted to me as I am?”

“Because I've watched you follow us around for a week now, you didn't seem to have any problem watching me touch myself the other day, and I've never seen you without a camera.”

“If you're so disgusted by me, then why did keep going when I caught you?” You were challenging him now, squaring up against him as you passed a bench in the empty park, lit only by the moon through the clouds. You dropped your camera into your bag and set it on the bench before folding your arms spitefully.

“I was having fun,” Jungwoo grinned, “I thought we were having fun.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you’re the actual sleaze.” You smiled, cocky and triumphant before Jungwoo shattered you with a laugh.

“And you didn’t catch me. I saw you skulking around backstage. I thought you’d like to come join me.” Jungwoo reached forward now, pulling your hand from your folded arms and clasping it to draw you close. Something felt a little electric as you found yourself being compliant. “I like this secret spy get-up on you, but I think I prefer the innocent look.” You watched, dumbfounded as Jungwoo’s hand cupped your face before he suddenly grabbed your chin.

“Were you thinking of me looking innocent when you were jerking off?” You laughed nervously, eyes darting to make sure you actually were alone.

“Of course I was,” Jungwoo nodded soberly, “it’s only been getting worse since I first noticed you stalking us. I want to pull on your pigtails and see you in that school sweater again.”

“I can go home and get it,” you sarcastically offered, looking for an opportunity to get out and keep this encounter from getting messy.

“And let you leave?” He shook his head. “Not when I have you right here and all to myself.” Jungwoo’s arms circled your waist and pulled you close.

“What do you want?” You defiantly stammered. “Money? You want the photos I'm going to submit?”

“No,” Jungwoo smirked as he leaned his head in closer to yours, his lips barely hazing over yours, “I just want you to be good.”

“What?” You asked, barely a whisper, wanting to ask a million questions but nonetheless accepting when Jungwoo closed the gap between his lips and yours. He still held you close, nearly resembling two lovers in the park except you knew better, you knew what Jungwoo was chasing. You just had to decide to give it to him. You had to decide if you were okay feeling good when Jungwoo called you sleazy, if you enjoyed how he exposed you and made you feel vulnerable.

“Touch me,” he ordered softly, despite his hands finally relinquishing you. He understood the choice he gave you in letting go: obey, or run and take a chance that he would rat you out. You could clearly see the proud smile spread across Jungwoo's face in the dark as you tentatively reached forward, pressing your hand to his chest and letting it drift down his lean figure, only hesitating when you neared the waistband of his jeans. “Are you afraid?” He asked, almost soothingly.

“No,” you murmured, “just excited.”

Jungwoo’s hand closed around yours now, halting you. “Tell me why, first.”

“I'm curious about you,” you breathed, your hushed intrigue doing more than enough to let Jungwoo almost push your hand the rest of the way down to the button and zip of his jeans.

“Good,” he praised sweetly, his chest rising and falling hard as you got your hand in his jeans and around his member. “Now admit you've been thinking about me.”

“Yes,” you exhaled, practically trembling from excitement as Jungwoo turned you in his arms, pressing his length in your hand against the curve of your ass. “Ever since I saw it I've been thinking about…”

“Say it, cutie,” Jungwoo chuckled behind you, his lips trailing over the expanse of your neck.

“I've been thinking about your cock,” you admitted, and his member throbbed under your fingers as Jungwoo groaned. His own fingertips traveled around to your belly, dipping below your waistband to your quickly dampening heat. Your pussy accepted his probing fingers so easily it almost felt like a betrayal.

“And did you do anything about it?” He asked curiously.

“Not yet,” you shook your head.

“Awh, poor baby,” Jungwoo laughed, “too busy following us around? You've only had time to think about this?” He snickered at your pathetic nod as he ground his hips against your massaging grip. “You know, beautiful, you look just as filthy as I thought you would be like this.”

You earnestly nodded in agreement -- you did look filthy like this, knees squeezed tightly together with Jungwoo’s hand in your dark jeans and yours wrapped around his cock behind your back.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jungwoo smiled, “do you like that? Do you like being filthy?” He smirked at your renewed nod as his fingers massaged your wet pussy. “Then you're definitely my filthy girl. How about slutty? Are you my slutty girl?”

You swallowed hard at Jungwoo's teasing and deliciously embarrassing words. Were you a slutty girl? Maybe you could be, just for tonight. You didn't even realize you were nodding again and again before Jungwoo spanked your ass with a laugh. “Then I should give my slutty girl what she's begging for.”

Jungwoo’s hands pressed down on your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend over the park bench as he swiftly yanked down your jeans and panties. Then he paused.

“Put me inside you,” Jungwoo encouraged. You swallowed down a nervous gulp as you massaged his length in your hands a couple more times. You prodded the head of his cock against your entrance, quietly moaning and whimpering under your breath as you worked him inside you. “Oh, princess,” Jungwoo cooed, “my perfect, slutty princess. Now work your pussy for me.”

You nodded, overwhelmed by your own desire and compulsion to please Jungwoo. Fucking him was like nothing you’d ever experienced, where this was almost fun, like it was a game, and you had a chance to win. You pressed your hands to the cold park bench and worked your hips back, thrusting your pussy down around Jungwoo’s thick cock before he spanked you again.

“You're good at that,” he teased, “maybe we should make this a regular thing, where you can show me everything you can do.”

“Well, what about tonight?” You asked, finally piping up.

“Tonight,” Jungwoo began thoughtfully, “now that we've warmed up, you just have to take it.”

Before you could question any further, Jungwoo pulled out, his absence within you immediately felt. He turned you both, seating himself on the park bench and hauling you down perpendicularly on lap, hooking an arm under your leg to easily hoist you up and seat you on his cock. His lips searched for yours in the dark before he eagerly bounced you on his length, his hips bucking and rolling hard up against yours.

“You like it, right?” He asked so sweetly, his big smile at your exhausted nod making your heart throb. “How should I finish?”

“After I do, for starters,” you giggled, and his laugh combined with yours proved that this was just fun and games when all was said and done, that Jungwoo had no intent of turning you in despite any reservations he may have had about your job. His fingers cradled your chin as he kissed you, before they traveled down between your breasts, taking a moment to tease your nipples through your shirt before dipping down between your legs and continuing to rub your soaked clit again.

Picking up where he left off, and now doing all the work, it was incredibly easy to feel your orgasm coming on. Despite every tiny dissenting voice in your head telling you that this was too public, too obscene, Jungwoo held you close, almost cradling you as he fucked you through your hushed orgasm sending sparks along your nervous system. He slowed his hips under where you were seated side-saddle, kissing your face as you calmed down.

“My gorgeous, filthy princess,” Jungwoo praised as he pressed his lips to your temple, “cumming all over my cock out here.”

“What about you now?” You asked, still panting as you caught your breath.

“What about me?”

“Don't you want to cum?” You asked curiously.

“Sure I do,” he nodded, “and I'm sure I will. I'm just having fun doing this with you.”

“Then maybe,” you teased as you returned the kiss to his forehead, “I can come up with an idea myself.”

“Oh?” Jungwoo smiled, watching with piqued interest as you fought your shaky legs to stand back up, sliding your panties and jeans off over your shoes and dropping them beside him. You were already this exposed, you figured. The cool night air tickled your half-bared body and only reminded you how public this was, but it only encouraged you more. Making sure you had steady footing, you climbed back onto Jungwoo’s lap, now squatting over his length with your feet planted on either side of his hips as you steadily slid him back inside you.

“I'm thinking I'm not the only filthy one if you like this so much,” you smirked playfully, enjoying his low groans from your tight walls massaging his length as you worked a good rhythm on him.

“I’m thinking you're right,” he chuckled, moaning and whimpering as you varied your pace, occasionally stopping altogether or even grinding your pussy down hard on his cock before you suddenly pulled off. Jungwoo whined with a desperate laugh as he bucked into the air, trying to get back into you. “No no, you don’t get to do that, I love it,” he begged.

“Say it again,” you demanded, riding him hard for a moment and doing it all over again, pulling your soaked pussy back off of him.

“Please please please,” he whimpered as he fucked into the air, “bring it back, you're working me up too fast to be a tease like this.”

“Are you sure?” You asked sweetly before you repeated the routine once again.

“Yes!” Jungwoo gritted through his teeth as he gripped onto the park bench. “Please, princess, make me cum.”

“Whatever you want,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead once more before climbing off his lap altogether. Jungwoo almost sputtered, not understanding until you sank to a squat in front of him and took his cock deep between your lips, your tongue massaging his length as you hungrily sucked on him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jungwoo panted, “it’s not as good as your pussy but it’s so, so good, baby.”

You pulled off his cock with an audible pop, your hand picking up where you left off and jerking his length.

“Well, maybe next time you can bring a condom next time you ambush me.”

“If it’s going to be like this, I'll do whatever you want,” Jungwoo laughed exhaustedly as he tried not to thrust into your mouth when you sucked him back between your lips. His fingers stroked into your hair, keeping his wavering touches gentle until he gripped at his thigh, seemingly warning you of his impending orgasm.

Your suspicions were confirmed a moment later as Jungwoo let his head loll back with the force of his orgasm, his cum spilling into your throat and down your chin for you to hungrily drink down. Jungwoo melted into the bench, catching his breath as you stood back up, stretching your legs and quickly pulling your panties and jeans back on.

It was odd, thinking of something to say as Jungwoo finally came back to life and gently stowed his cock back into his pants. You liked him, and you wanted more, but neither of you were hardly in any position to be trying to make this a real thing. At least, not a committed thing.

“So, I guess we should never do this again,” Jungwoo sighed with a disheartened grin. You thought hard about this, about him.

“I'm not sure,” you settled on. “You can ask me at the SM company dinner next week I'll be covering.” You softly cupped Jungwoo’s humbly triumphant face as you grabbed your bag before shouldering it and leaving in the quiet night.

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct 127 #kim jungwoo #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo x you #nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct scenarios

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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10. Simon’s Deal

3878 Words. Trigger Warnings for self harm and inappropriate sexual joke content. I think that’s all in this one, actually.

I feel like I need to clarify something - I am continuing this story until I finish it. But, the chapters will no longer be standalone pieces. The rest of it will be directly a sequential story that would need the previous chapters in order to make the story coherent. Thanks for understanding. Happy reading, and please, if you like what you read, let me know. If you don’t, keep it moving, Shawty. Because, I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit.

Simon got up fairly early every day. He fed Samantha and let her out. She came and went as she pleased, and in the times that she returned, she would come to his window and yell. He… was probably going to have to bring her with him when he left home for good. He hated to do it. He never wanted a cat, but they had bonded over having the worst mom in common and it wasn’t her fault that the person who purchased her did so on a whim.

He had a very strict exercise regimen, breakfast schedule, and things that he did every morning before starting on his day. Whenever he left home, he usually packed what he needed, and tended to use his mother’s old car. Was he legally supposed to be driving? No. Was he teaching himself how to anyway, because he knew he would need that skill and nobody else was gonna teach him? Absolutely.

His summer had a lot of things packed into it, but he had everything plotted out in such a way that if he followed his schedule, he would still have plenty of time to rest well and even to keep up with Grace.

She was having a blast. "I asked Ghairrisahn if I could smell her hair to tell my friend how it smells and she gave me a piece of it! I collected YOU a gift, this time!"

"You… have… some of her hair for me???" He asked excitedly.

"She pulled it out of her hairbrush! She says that it isn't even the first time. Her hair and her feet are apparently people's favorite parts." Grace held up a little baggy with curly hair in it. "I'll keep it safe for you. In the meantime, she smells like… geranium, bergamot, frankincense and myrrh."

"I… what?"

"Geranium, bergamot, frankincense and myrrh. Those are her go to essential oils, so everything she wears is one or a combination of those and no other scents, ever, so that she doesn't smell TOO strong. But, it's nice. I actually smell her hair for myself, now. Since she’s got all these oils on her body, I just say that I’m doing it for wellness."

"So jealous," he said, with a smile. “I saw that you gave her a lipstick print. She’s Apex now!”

“She said that she’s been a fan of my videos!” She sighed, "I wish you were here."

"Me too. I miss you."

"Are you holding up okay?"

Actually, my mom had the most violent outburst whenever I tried to get her into my grandmother's car and Samantha has been gone for far longer than usual. I don't know if she's coming back, I don’t even know if she’s alive…

"I'm fine," he said and saw an incoming call… from Mr. Monroe? "I...I've gotta go."

"I'm calling you tomorrow!"

"Yes, Ma'am." she hung up and he smiled, "Mr. Monroe! I didn't plan on hearing from you..."

Simon was at his journalism workshop whenever Shana sat next to him. He raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes. "Problem?" She asked, turning to look right at him.

"Girl, leave me alone."

"Why are you so rude? Have I ever actually done you something, or do you just hate everybody that doesn't worship your girlfriend?"

"What difference does it make?" He and Grace never corrected people on the girlfriend bit. It was easier that way. They'd have to explain why they're so close and always together and never dating anyone else… like they couldn't JUST be friends?

"You stole from me. I'd like to know why."

"I've never stolen anything in my life. Your dad, on the other hand…"

She gasped and he could tell from the look on her face that was a low blow. She looked like she was going to cry. "Wow. You're just as ugly as she is. I actually thought you were the nice one."

"You are the only person who's said that. Therefore, I'm going to presume that you're lying," he said, with a slight blush. People didn't often say that he was nice at all, and especially not when choices were between him and Grace - the professional people pleaser and part time peacekeeper. The number of times that she had to keep him from cracking something over somebody’s head alone was enough to warrant at least a collective “unfriendly.”

"Doesn't matter now. You're a complete asshole." He laughed at the bold declaration. It had been a while since someone dared to insult him, much less straight up call him out of his name. He didn't know if he had ever really noticed Shana before this moment. But… she and Grace had similar features. He'd heard her referred to as "Chemical Grace" before, because she straightened her hair and wore a lot of makeup and stuff (and was the only other Black girl besides a a handful of biracial ones).

But, honestly… if Grace contoured her face, had straight hair, maybe less full lips and high cheekbones, the two of them looked a lot the same… to the point that Simon's imagination insisted that they were related.

Oooh… what if Mr. Monroe had a torrid affair once upon a time and had this daughter some months before Grace? That would explain their enmity too!

"What are you looking at?" She asked, annoyed.

"You and Grace look like you could be sisters."

She glared at him, "I don't know if you think that we all look alike or if you just miss that dragon for whatever reason, (because you're a weirdo for genuinely liking her in the first place), but if you ever say anything that insulting to me again, all bets are off. I'm going to fuck you up, Simon."

"It was a compliment. Grace is the prettiest girl in school and you're like… a close second, on the grounds that you look like less organic her.."

"Please shut up. Why are you talking to me? Are you even allowed to do that?" She rolled her eyes, but he noticed that her skin tone changed just a little bit. He knew that look too. She was blushing. He caught Grace doing so a time or two. It didn’t look the same as whenever he did, for sure, but he definitely noticed. He smirked and texted Grace. She would be in rehearsals, but she’d see it afterwards.

“Chemical Grace thinks I’m cute. (Smirk emoji)”

A few short minutes later she replied, “Nothing else to do. Gotta set yourself on fire, bruh.”

He laughed and Shana looked over, but he just gave her a hard stare until she looked away, annoyed that she had even turned towards him.

They were going to have to work together in journalism club, but he had always been surrounded by people he didn’t too much care for. At the time, he couldn’t imagine the amount of time that they might have to work together, with her being the managing editor and him being the copy editor (and photo/graphics editor, until someone else stepped up for that).

"I still can't figure out if she's lucky or cursed to have you, but I'm sure hoping for the latter," Shana said as they walked out of the workshop, practically shoulder to shoulder. He just smirked. Her insults were… kinda fun for him.

He had a couple of weeks between his engagements. Grace wanted him to fly out to meet her and fly back in a couple of weeks. She just needed him to agree and she would make sure that the tickets were purchased. He never minded accepting things from her before, but since she’d left him, things felt off for him.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was still a little bit hurt that she decided to go on the tour. It was a chance of a lifetime. He wouldn’t have wanted her to turn it down… but he did want that. He wanted her to be nearby and available, so that when he wasn't busy, he could have her to himself to recover from everything.

That was no reason that he couldn’t go meet Ghairrisahn and see her shows for free for two weeks, though. So, he went!

Grace danced backup for some numbers and under the spotlight a couple of times too. Ghairrisahn praised her on the mic, hyped her up during her performances, thanked her by name at the end of each show, with the band and other important creators, and seemed to genuinely appreciate her.

For Simon, it was like watching a shooting star go in reverse. Like… when he met her, she was beautiful, but just sitting in a crater, and he dug her out and she shot up and was flying into the night's sky. Beautiful to behold, but also… he doesn't know why he's not with her - Why they weren't one anymore. He doesn't know why she's so out of his reach now.

They clung to that old dynamic, for a few years that it wasn't working, and now, they were shooting in different directions. Where could he possibly want to go if Grace wasn't going with him? Why was it so easy for her now to go where she was going, without him? She used to… she used to wait for him. She used to shine a little less, if only to give him a moment to catch up. She used to care…

That's unfair. She still cares. She's just having fun and she deserves some fun… even if she never would have made it this far without your support. You built her a fan base from a bunch of snobby kids who wanted high school cool points into a public figure with a massive Internet presence. You took the photos that landed her a lucrative business deal at age 14. You turned her parents' heads in her direction every chance you got, just so she could be noticed by them and get a sparkle in her eyes. She owes you everything… and she won't even look at you as anything other than her favorite accessory. Something she never wants to leave home without, but if she does, she could just smile and keep dancing…

He didn't realize that he was shaking until one of Grace's team members asked him if he was okay. He nodded and then went to find some place to be alone. He took off his hoodie and pulled a dull pen from his pocket. His thoughts were racing and his emotions were such an overwhelming cluster of negativity rushing about that he almost felt immobilized by the onslaught. He sat down, lifted his arm and began to sketch. The pen scratched him, lifting the line on his skin, with minimal blood, but a few specks. He drew tally marks. There were a few older faded ones that he had counted.

Whenever he felt hurt or weak or scared… things he couldn't say he felt. Whenever those feelings became too much. Grace had told him, "You just have gotta try to count up the good things about stuff."

"And how am I supposed to do that whenever my mind can't focus on anything but the bad stuff I'm going through?"

She made an "I don't know" sound, with the shrug of her shoulders, closed her compact mirror, looked at him with the warmest smile and said, "But, you're the smartest guy I know. You'll figure out a way to get on the path to thinking positive when your brain is mean to you." She smiled and a bird landed on her shoulder. She was petrified. "Oh my God… get… get this thing off of me Simon!" He swatted it and when it began to fly, she screamed, dropped her bag and ran. He laughed at the image as he picked up her stuff, but for that brief moment that she smiled, with an agent of nature perched on her shoulder, he got his moment of clarity. He found his way. It was her. It had been her.

Whenever he felt this way, he would center himself with a little bit of pain and just make a little mark of the good things about her that he could think of.

He hadn't done this (over her) in a while. Usually, she was the alternative medicine for hurt that his mom caused. Grace didn't hurt him very often, and the times that she did, he always made a tally to represent that she would never try to hurt him on purpose.

That's where he began his new tally of marks. 1 She's not hurting me on purpose. 2 She doesn't know that I'm hurt and I'm not going to tell her because she needs this. 3 I'm proud of her. 4 At least I get to come along. 5 She tried to bring me with her and I had to decline. 6 She never would have left me behind on purpose. 7 It was my choice and she respected that. 8 She still loves me because she wanted me here as soon as I had time. 9 We're still the Apex…

"Simon, are you in here? They told me that you rushed off and you didn't look too good?" 10 She came to check on me as soon as she heard I wasn't okay…

"Yeah. I just got overheated…" he said, pulling his hoodie back over himself.

"That's why I don't understand why you always wear a hoodie! It's summer and you sweat a lot! You're gonna make the bus musty."

"I'm gonna get washed up!" He opened the door and there she was, sweaty and musty herself, with full concern on her glowing features. She glanced at the pen and he put it away. "Fell outta my pocket," he said and covered the back of his neck with his hand, laughing nervously.

She doubted him for a moment. He saw the flicker of it in her eyes, but she smiled anyway, wrapped an arm around his back and pulled him along with her, "Come on, Your Ripeness." Simon wrapped an arm around her as well. He didn't feel any more distress. He wasn't overwhelmed or sad or angry. He had gotten “back on his positive path after his brain was mean to him.” He kissed her on the temple and she smiled and blushed. "What was that for?"

"For always being my best friend."

She tugged him down to kiss his temple too… since that's what they were doing tonight, she guessed. She winked at him and mused, "Back at cha, Gray Eyes." He melted against her and rested his head on the top of hers. Grace was… confused, but she just stood there, with his arms tightly wrapped around her. She didn't understand his sudden need to be affectionate, but she didn't want to interrupt it either.

His last night on the tour, after everyone was asleep, they snuck away, just to explore and spend time alone.

"So, guess what your dad and me discussed…"

"Ugh. You've been talking to my dad, still?"

"Um.. of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'm not even there. What could you two possibly have to even talk about?"

"We have a lot to talk about! I'm very mature for my age and I have a good head on my shoulders."

"You head-butted someone yesterday," she reminded him.

"And I barely flinched. My head is that good...Wait…" she was already laughing at the slip of the tongue. He groaned. She was never gonna let him live that one down. "Let me finish!" He whined, laughing at himself.

"You gotta stop chillin' with my dad, Dude. He's not just an adult, but he's one of the ones that we know can't be trusted."

Mr. Monroe had been very helpful to Simon during the time while Grace was away and his parents were out of reach. Bit like a mentor, but not as warm. They did discuss Grace at times, but mostly the man had been getting him in contact with the right people to help him sort out getting emancipated and for assistance with the home front while there weren't other adults there. They didn't have heart to hearts and stuff, but he was definitely an ally, in Simon's eyes. "He's… not so bad, I think. He just doesn't understand you. But, he loves you. I mean.. I think he does. The way you made them sound is worse than they are. At least they aren't like my parents…"

She frowned. "I don't like it. It's weird that you're taking up for him, too. What have you got a crush on my dad or something?"

"… Did you seriously ask me that?"

"You're going on about how great and misunderstood he is, and I've never seen you date anybody. Maybe that's what you like. Old rich dudes that can be your sugar daddy." She stuck her tongue out and twerked a little.

He laughed, "I am by no means above doing what I gotta do with your dad, if it gets me ahead, but I think your mom would kill me."

Grace laughed, "I would help her!"

"Help her? How dead do you think I would need to be? Shouldn't one of you kill him too? He's the adult in this scenario! Besides, your mom wouldn't need any help. That woman could probably kill a gorilla with her bare hands."

"Well, she's always said that she can do anything she sets her mind to with the right pair of shoes." They both laughed about the image of Mrs. Monroe killing a gorilla with a pair of pumps on. Grace thought, she's WEARING the shoes, not using them and Simon thought that she definitely had in her to stab a beast to death with a high heel.

"Talk about red bottoms," Simon said, trying to stop laughing at all of their add-ons.

"What's wrong with us? We're making jokes about my dad molesting you for money and my mom killing gorillas while staying fashionable."

"I think it poses the question, what's wrong with them?"

"Hmph. According to you, nothing."

"Not nothing, Grayyeeece… they just aren't as bad as a lot of other parents. Some of them never should have had kids."

The tone was uncomfortable for her. Like, him talking about his parents never having kids made her feel like he was indirectly saying that he didn't like being alive and that couldn't be discussed. She wouldn't be able to handle a conversation like that.

She smiled and said, "Anyways, what did you and your sugar daddy discuss?"

Now, Simon's face lit up again and he smiled, "Okay, so get this… We were discussing my busy schedule and everything I have ahead of me next year and he started to candidly speak about your social media and the tour…" she groaned. She knew that her father didn't consider what she did real art. "And somehow, he got it into his mind that you'll need a man to take care of you, a hard-working one with more realistic goals…" she fumed.

Need? A man? To take care?? Of me???

"Long story short, your dad offered to pay my college tuition, to any school that I want to go to in exchange for wooing you and being your stable man."

She stared at him, expecting some type of twist. The gotcha or whatever. He laughed, but seemed serious. "My dad wants to pay you to try to be my boyfriend?"

"Technically, his word was to 'tame' you."

"TAME???"

"He thinks that you've blindly rushed into wild dreams and that you need a smart, strong boy to help you stabilize."

"Ugh!!! You know, he ruined my mom's career with that same line of thinking! And she had to live vicariously through me. I can't BELIEVE that he'd pay YOU for that job!" She was furious.

Simon looked offended, "Why'd you say it like that?"

"You're my friend. He expects you to just screw me over and play with my mind for some money."

"It's not THAT simple. For… an education that I work really hard to get, but still may have to settle on a scholarship that might not cover everything. An education that, if I had it, I could finally make something of myself in this world. It wasn't like he offered me a cartoon bag of cash. He offered me a future that I deeply want and need. Nothing cheap or meaningless.."

She intertwined their fingers, "Okay. Then… you'll get that."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants to give you college in exchange for making me your girlfriend, then he's about to pay for your college."

"Are you suggesting that we officially openly pretend to be a couple instead of leaving it to mystery?"

"I'm suggesting that my father deserves for you to take every dime he's willing to pay you to manipulate me."

"I don't think that you realize that what he wants me to do is change you, and even if we could get one over on him, the act would have to last through my college career…"

"We've unofficially been a couple in people's eyes for almost that long already."

"No we haven't!"

"I am making you a counter offer. It's the very same deal as my dad's, but in this one, we stay the same, but he pays you anyway! So… be my partner, already." She held out her hand to him and he tentatively accepted it and shook it. She smiled. "We'll have to pace it, if he's expecting you to woo me. Gonna have to be a soft entrance and he'll have to notice a gradual shift."

He nodded in agreement. He knew that they were speaking about a fake relationship, but he still felt butterflies fluttering in his gut thinking about it. Being Grace's boyfriend… even if pretend… for years… There was no way that they could pull that off… but, what if it led to something? What if he could woo her, for real? Have her for real?

"Let's go be seen," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm an internet personality. If people spot us out and about this time of night, they'll talk about it. If we seem like we're trying to be secretive, they'll post about it." She took his hand and pulled him along.

"We'll have to set some ground rules for this couple project…" he said.

She laughed, "You can set whatever rules you want. I'm doing everything that I've normally done, but I'll be letting my parents think you're my boyfriend so that you can go to school or whatever."

"It's risky. What about affection? What about if one of us finds somebody else that we like?"

"You like somebody?"

"No. I'm just thinking about the complications to this ruse."

"You're a war buff… Just think about it like a secret identity that you have to commit to for an espionage assignment. The fate of your future depends on it, so in a way, it's a mission of life and death." His eyes twinkled at her and she smirked. He loved when she began to try to speak his language.

"I understand now," he said.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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overheardatthecontinental · 4 years

Link

Part of the Endlessly collection that describes the endless possible meetings of Helen and John Wick. Can be read as a standalone.

When Helen realizes she'll have to drop out of med school after spending all her life's savings on her sick mother, she reaches a new level of desperate. With the help of her roommate, Helen creates an online account to get set up with a sugar daddy. Enter John Wick.

AKA the sugar baby! Helen / sugar daddy! John au that absolutely nobody asked for

Helen Kingston stared into the mirror. She was wearing enough makeup to hide the fact she hadn’t slept the night before and a little black dress she hadn’t touched since college. She had to admit, she didn’t look terrible. Even fifteen years later, the dress still clung to her curves and made her feel attractive.

But there were laugh lines around her eyes when she smiled and her skin didn’t look as tight as it had once been.

“Don’t men want younger women? Clear-skinned undergraduates or twenty-somethings with huge tits?”

“You’d be surprised .” Mac, her best friend had said after suggesting it. “It’s not about sex.”

Helen had snorted at that. It was always about sex.

“I’m serious! Some of these guys are just lonely. Some of them are gay and looking for a beard. And some just want to make it look like they have their lives together without actually having to have a relationship. ”

Helen wondered, not for the first time if this was not still a form of prostitution. Selling herself, her time and, for appearances' sake, her body.

But she was going to lose her apartment if she couldn’t pay rent. She would have to drop out of med school and go back to working full-time in a pharmacy. It had taken her years to save enough money to go to graduate school and all of it had been lost in the space of six months.

MacKenzie had interfered, as she so often did, insisting that she couldn’t handle three more years of med school without her friend.

Then Mac had said, “I know about this service. It pairs women with rich men and it pays ridiculously well. It’s how I managed to pay for undergrad.”

“I’m not going to fuck someone to stay in school. It isn’t worth it to me.”

Mac had rolled her eyes, “The fucking is optional. Most of the time, it’s not even on the table.”

She had continued to insist that she wasn’t interested until Mac pulled up the site and showed Helen the listings. “You get a grand for a single date, Hel.”

“Fuck me.” Helen had sat down at the computer, “ You’re kidding me?”

“Nope. And that’s just the initial meeting. Technically, you only get $900. The site gets a 10% commission off of whatever you make. And there’s no contract at the first meeting. If you don’t like the guy, you still get 9-hundos for two hours of your time.”

And for a woman who hadn’t had a full meal in weeks… that was ridiculously appealing.

So she let Mac set her up a profile and was shocked at the requests for meetings that came in.

“If I just took five initial meetings, I could make $4,500.”

“Possibly more, depending on the guy. I’m telling you, I had this regular guy in college who paid me extra for exclusive rights. I got two grand a week on top of money for individual dates.”

Helen exhales in the mirror. She looks as good as she is going to, she thinks, before grabbing her purse and slipping on her high heels shoes. Grabbing the keys to her POS car, she heads out.

It’s an hour drive into the city and to the restaurant he had picked.

His name was John.

There was no picture posted but his age was listed as early-forties.

If his description were honest, which she doubted, he had black medium length hair, brown eyes, and a beard. He selected ‘average’ for build and his height was listed at 6’1. His employment is listed as ‘contractor’, whatever the hell that meant.

He had sent her a polite request for a meeting.

Unlike so many of the other requests she had received, he did not wax poetic about her looks nor did he include any torrid ideas about what he wanted to do to her.

It was simple, respectful, and to the point. He proposed a time and a place and offered to send a car, which she declined. She still wasn’t sure that she trusted the service and, despite the cost of gas, she had just enough to get her there. And, once at the restaurant, $900 would be wired to her account.

She arrived early enough to park in a lot that stopped charging after six pm and Helen walked the rest of the way to the restaurant.

Maybe, she thinks as her anxiety builds with every step, that this was a bad idea.

Mac knew where she was so, hopefully, she wouldn't be murdered but...

Oh god… she could get murdered.

Well, at least that would take care of her debt.

She took her phone as she walked and shot off a text to Mac. "If I die, I'm haunting you."

She started to slip it back in her purse but it began ringing.

It's Mac.

"What?"

"You're not going to die."

"It's a possibility." The restaurant was in sight. "I'm strangely not that concerned. Either I die or I don't."

"That's the spirit."

"That said, if I end the night in someone's trunk, I blame you for getting me into this."

"Are you alive when you're put in this dude's trunk?"

"That's an interesting game you pose. Schroedinger's' Helen. Dead and alive in the trunk."

She heard a snort and glanced up. A man stood by the front of the restaurant with a smirk on his face.

He was tall and handsome and that smirk should be illegal. In a three-piece black suit, he looked like he just stepped off the cover of GQ.

"I don't get it."

"Well, I'm sorry it went over your head, but I assure you, I'm very funny."

The man's smirk transformed into a full grin and… fuck.

Helen looked away so as not to flush under his gaze. She reminded herself that she is there to meet someone who is paying very well for her time.

"You're really not." Mac told her but she barely listening.

Mister Tall-dark-and-handsome was making his way over.

"Helen Kingston?" He asked.

And...fuck.

"John?" She replied, hoping she was wrong. Hoping that the attractive man she just talked about being murdered and thrown into someone's trunk in front of is not the man she is going on a date with.

But he nodded and Helen decided she is, indeed, fucked.

"Ohmigod is that him?"

"If it would bring you and your friend comfort, I can assure you that you won't end up in my trunk."

Her goal to not flush in front of the attractive man was lost. Her face was red as she murmured a quick goodbye to Mac and stuffed her phone away.

"Hi," She said, lost and unsure of how to proceed.

He looked younger than his forties but it appeared as though he was mostly honest.

He had shoulder-length black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were brown and soft. In fact, the only argument she could think of was that he was anything but average. Even under layers, she could make out a trim and toned body.

This wasn't an ugly rich man who struggled to meet women.

Her first thought goes to beard. Is he hiding the fact he's gay and looking to keep his secret covered?

She can't think of another reason that he couldn't get a date. Unless he was a tremendous ass but her gut said that wasn't the case.

"Hello." He greeted back.

“Any chance you’d be willing to start over?” Helen asked hopefully.

“We could, but I think it would be a shame to not speak about Shrodinger’s Helen.”

Helen ran a hand through her hair. It was a fair blow but she still finds herself turning pink yet again.

John offered his arm, “Let me get you a drink.”

Helen takes it, “Yes. Please.”

They walk inside and John gives his name. Immediately, they are brought to a private corner of the dining room, far away from prying ears.

John held out the chair for her and Helen wondered if she wasn't in over her head with the kind of lifestyle that includes candlelit dinners and wine lists.

The waiter recited the specials and John ordered a bottle of wine which could not come fast enough.

Helen could still feel the burn in her cheeks as she glanced through the menu. She had never been to a restaurant before that didn’t include their prices next to the item in question. That, along with thorough descriptions of each item, made her think that the restaurant was far bougie-r than she had initially thought.

It was a good thing John was paying.

The waiter came back and poured them each a glass and she itched to down in a single gulp. But she didn’t, allowing the waiter to take their orders and leave before reaching for the glass.

Helen took a large sip and was aware that she was under the scrutiny of her date. He gazed at her with something akin to wonder or curiosity. It was far more intimidating than she had imagined, sitting at her computer.

“Relax.” John said, picking up his own wine glass, “You have the control here.”

Helen exhaled. Damn right.

“I think it’s obvious I haven’t done this before.”

“It’s okay. Neither have I.”

That surprised her. “Really?”

He nodded his head, once. “This is a first for me.”

“Can I ask… why now?”

“You can ask whatever you like. And to be honest, I don’t date. It’s never been a priority for me, but my work often requires attending social and formal events. I usually don’t mind attending alone but I’m getting tired of colleagues trying to set me up.”

And… it’s excessive to be sure, but practical. Helen knew she wasn’t in any place to judge but she had still been expecting someone… older, unattractive, and unpleasant.

“So you’re looking for someone to attend events with?”

“More or less. Were you interested, I would want to spend some time and get to know you beforehand.”

Again, practical.

What she did not understand was why he had reached out to her . There were plenty of other women on the site, Mac for instance, who had experience in that world. Mac knew how to waltz and curtsy and be proper. A practiced set of niceties that came from growing up with money.

Helen did not have those skills. Or any skills that seemed applicable to the world of wealthy men.

“I admit that I don’t have much experience with formalities.”

“I saw on your profile.” He said, appearing largely unaffected.

“Then why me? There are plenty of other women who specialize in that kind of world.”

“Anyone can figure out which fork to use. But not everyone has read Camus and Kierkegaard and Sartre. Not everyone can make jokes about being locked in a trunk and compare it to Shrodinger.”

Helen blinked, her lips twitching in a small grin, “You picked me because I like existentialism?”

“Because I thought that anyone who lists Camus as their favorite author would be able to hold a decent conversation.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a guarantee.” Helen fired back. “Perhaps I’m just a narcissist. I am in med school, after all.”

John grinned widely, “Well, then, at least this will be interesting. What year are you in?”

“My second. Two and a half more to go before residency.”

“And what did you do before?”

“I was, and am, a pharmacy tech. It paid well and it gave me some medical experience while I saved for med school. Unfortunately, I ran into some financial issues and I really don’t have another ten years to save before I start over.”

John nodded, “May I ask about what happened?”

There was no reason, she decided, to not put everything out on the table. “My mother got sick just after I started med school. Cancer. I supported her the best I could but after paying for treatments out of pocket, I had blown through my savings within a couple months. Between that and school payments, I quickly ended up in over my head.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. It must have been very frightening to have your life altered so drastically, so quickly.”

“It was.” Helen agreed, “I’ve always known that anything can happen at any time but it was the first time I really felt my entire life slip from my control.”

“Is that how you ended up here?”

On the site. At the restaurant. Not a judgment, just an assessment.

“Yes. I’m a bit short on school payments and Mac, my roommate, suggested this as a solution.”

He nodded and Helen reached for her wine again.

Thankfully, John turned the subject to simpler things and she exhaled in relief. “Have you always wanted to be a doctor?”

“Yes. Ever since I was a kid, I knew I wanted to be a doctor.”

“Area of specialty?”

“Honestly, I’d like to work in a trauma ward or an emergency room.”

And for whatever reason, that made him smile. “Fast-paced.”

“I’ve waited a long time to make it to med school. I don’t want to waste any more time.” She offered a small smile in return, “What do you do?”

“I’m an independent contractor,” John told her.

“Doing what?”

“Whatever needs to be done.”

Helen inclined her head, “Are you always so elusive or is this just a first meeting kind of thing?”

“My work is… complicated,” John said, thoughtfully.

“Is that a polite way of saying illegal?”

His lips twitched and his eyes seemed to shine.

Helen flushed, "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate. Sometimes, when I'm sleep deprived, I don't think before I speak."

"That was delightful," John argued, "please don't feel like you need to hold back, however, you said you're sleep deprived?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "usually. Work, school, and homework tend to take more hours than there is time in the day. But don't think I haven't noticed that you still have not answered my question."

John continued to stare at her, assessing. And then, just when she thought he would elude her again, he answered with a simple, "Yes."

Helen gave him a nod but remained silent as the waiter returned with their salads.

"How do you feel about that?" John asked as the waiter left them in their private corner again.

"It requires less effort to condemn than to think.

And John grinned a full, true smile that made her heart skip a beat.

"Emma Goldman."

"I think I butchered her words, but I believe it just the same."

"Tell me, sweet Helen, are you an anarchist?"

It was unfair, she decided, the way he could make her cheeks burn.

"I am not sure I fully align with any political thought. I'll admit that anarchy has its merits, but laws have their place."

"Laws can be confining."

"They can but, since we have yet to find a system that works, majority rule is the best we have."

"Unless you take into account the collective stupidity of mankind, in which case, majority rule can be just as harmful as anything."

"But what would you have to replace it? Rules are necessary, a contract is required."

"Rules or consequences?" He seemed genuinely interested in her opinion and it completely threw her from the small talk she had anticipated.

By the time their dinner had arrived, Helen had forgotten that it wasn't a real date. That their meeting was not chance but an arrangement.

She was more than full after her meal, feeling as though she would burst. She ordered dessert only for the sake of lengthening their conversation, which stemmed from politics to philosophy to art.

John was… brilliant. Utterly brilliant and completely captivating and… not what she had planned for.

He walked her to her car, even though she warned him it was blocks away. He carried her leftovers in one hand while the other rested at her lower back.

Anyone who saw them might think they were an actual couple.

It made her heartstrings ache because… they weren't a couple. This wasn't a real date.

As if she had time for such luxuries.

All too soon, they reached her car and Helen put the leftovers in the front seat before turning back to John.

"I had a wonderful time with you tonight."

Helen swallowed, noting his proximity. "I had a great time too."

"And I would like to see you again. My only concern," John said after a moment, "is timing. You already have work, school, and obligations that come from your studies. I worry that time spent with me would be subtracted from your sleep."

Helen flushed and tried to not let the disappointment show on her face.

He was wonderful. Smart and funny and a perfect gentleman. Perhaps the most handsome man she had ever gone out with.

But she understood.

She came with too much baggage.

He needed someone with fewer commitments, someone better suited to his needs.

"I understand." She said, looking down. "Thank you for a lovely evening."

"I think you misunderstand," and John stepped closer and caught her chin in his hand and angled her face upward, his dark eyes staring into hers. "I have a proposal for you and I hope, in offering such, that I do not come across as if I'm trying to manipulate you or your life. You still hold all the cards and still have the opportunity to walk away if you desire."

It was hard to breathe with him so close. He smelled like whiskey and cologne and it made her salivate.

"What's your proposal?"

God, he stood so close to her now.

“I know that my situation is less than ideal. What I do,” which he still had not told her, “is highly illegal. Many of my associates are criminals, even if they are widely respected. Between the time constraints and the subpar company, I know I ask a lot. In return, I would like you to consider allowing me to play for the rest of your schooling.”

Her lips parted in shock.

“And expenses. So you don’t have to work instead of sleep.”

Her head felt light because… this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

She feels his cool hand touch jaw before cupping her cheek.

“I know it’s a lot to consider.” John says softly, “And I don’t want you to answer now. I want you to think about it. If possible, sleep on it.”

Her lips twitch in a smile.

“I would like to kiss you.”

Fuck. Me. She thinks and then nods, “Then you should kiss me.”

John bends down, obliging her, and presses his lips to hers.

And she can’t describe it. It’s not fireworks because that would be too distracting. Music doesn’t start playing somewhere in the background but it doesn’t need to.

His mouth is warm and soft and… claiming. God, it feels like she is being branded by his lips.

And her heart is racing as if it suddenly understands why kissing other people had never felt right. Because this was right. Kissing John was right.

All too soon, it’s over. And when her eyes open, they are staring into his.

She thinks although she isn’t sure, that he doesn’t want to leave it at this either. But he moves back slightly.

“You know how to reach me,” John says, pressing a final kiss to her forehead. “Drive safe, sweet Helen.”

And he walks away, heading back down the street towards the restaurant.

Her hand rises and she brushes her lips with her fingers.

She is in far over her head.

#john wick #helen wick #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #fanfic #helen x john wick #john x helen wick #endlessly yours #endlessly series #overheard at the continental #incorrect john wick #helen wick fanclub #helen wick deserved better #sugar daddy! John Wick

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peachdoxie · 4 years

Text

It’s always an experience to look back at myself as an adolescent and realize how much of my behavior was influenced by the fact that I am asexual and aromantic but didn’t yet know that.

In elementary school, I mostly wore t-shirts and pants of some sort. They were vaguely feminine, but not very much. To be honest, I don’t think I paid that much attention to what I wore in elementary school, though I was obviously influenced by external factors. But in the fifth grade (age 10-11) is I think when I started to actively reject femininity. It definitely happened once I started middle school (11-14). I opted more for a gender neutral look rather than a masculine look, though I didn’t think of it that way - just “not girly”. This trend followed me into high school (14-18), though around age 15 or so I got over my “not like other girls” mentality, which was never super strong but definitely present.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to dress more femininely. There were times when I wished I could wear a blouse instead of a t-shirt and get a hair cut or something. I didn’t want to be super feminine and wear makeup or jewelry or whatnot, but the t-shirt look is hard to pull off and still be seen as mature and have people take me seriously as I grew older. I actually enjoyed the chances to look rather feminine when the circumstances allowed it – namely, dances at high school (until I stopped going to them entirely) and prom.

The problem was that I didn’t like the attention I got whenever I made a change. If I wore a nicer shirt one day, people would comment on it. If I got a hair cut, people would comment on it. If I did anything out of the ordinary, people would comment on it. And save for social situations that were intended for fancier clothing, such as school dances, I did not like the attention. At all. It was mostly from teachers and other female friends who were genuinely nice about it, not even unwanted attention from boys or men. It didn’t help that I went to a small K-12 school, meaning I was with the same 100-odd classmates every year and regularly encountered my old teachers. There were no good transition moments to make any changes besides summer, and even then I didn’t.

I used to wear my hair in a ponytail all the time – initially just to keep it out of my face, but then because I did that constantly, any time I would wear it down on a normal day, someone would comment on it. It got to the point where I would keep it in the ponytail all the time. It was somewhere past my shoulder most of the time. One day when I was 15, during my regularly scheduled hair cut, I decided to cut off enough inches to donate the hair and my stylist straightened my hair for it. It was cut to a bit above my shoulders. I wore it down the next day at school and got a lot of compliments about it. It made me so uncomfortable that I put it back in a ponytail the next day.

(I eventually got so sick of the ponytail and the way it made me look too gender neutral that I forced myself to get it cut short enough that I couldn’t put it in a ponytail and I just dealt with the discomfort until my shorter hair was normalized.)

It did vex me, back then, why I didn’t like any attention that focused on how pretty I looked whenever I made some change to my physical appearance. I didn’t think that it was because I didn’t think I wasn’t pretty and that’s why I didn’t like the attention – I was fairly aware of how body image problems in teenagers worked, and to my recollection, that never played a big role in my dislike of attention. I knew I had good skin and pretty eyes and did think my face was pleasing when I looked in the mirror. And rejecting femininity a bit helped me find solace in not conforming to beauty standards. I also must give credit to my mother, who was nothing but supportive and never pressured me to perform femininity, and neither really did any of the other adult figures that had a significant influence on me, which certainly helped.

As an adult who has studied queer theory and feminist theory, and who has reflected on my experience as a young acearo woman, I’ve come to realize how much my sexual and romantic orientations impacted me in this regard. It resolves the paradox of wanting to be more feminine-presenting to look more mature while simultaneously dreading any attention I’d get for making a change towards femininity.

To a younger me, any attention to my appearance when I presented even a tiny bit femininely meant that it increased the chances that a boy might ask me out. Not hit on me, but ask me out. It was one of the interpersonal things I dreaded the most during high school. I did not want a boy to ask me out because I knew I would say no because I wasn’t interested in dating. I was desperately afraid of making things awkward between me and whoever it was, because the boys that were most likely to ask me out (in my mind) were the boys I was close friends with. In my mind, knowing that a friend of mine in high school had a crush on me was a terrifying prospect – knowing that I had rejected them while they were still “in love” with me. The influence of media was definitely there, as I’d seen way too many Disney Channel TV shows and movies where the guy was rejected by the girl and it made things awkward. I didn’t want to lose any of my friends that way. (I won’t go into details, but my reluctance to date anyone did end up backfiring on me and I did lose a friend, though that was largely due to my own awkwardness on not understanding why I was so reluctant to date anyone.)

The romance part would have been okay-ish, but at that point I didn’t yet have a split-attraction model to go on and so, to me, any act of dating would necessarily involve holding hands, cuddling, and kissing, and possibly sexual activity, all of which I knew as early as age 11 that I did not want. And because I was repulsed by the idea of physical and sexual intimacy, dating was out of the question. I knew it was okay to not want to date anyone and to not want to have sex with anyone, during high school or ever, because my mother had raised me to think those are valid options (thanks Mom), but at the time, I didn’t have a concept of what being sex-repulsed was.

I think that made it difficult and uncomfortable for me to process the idea that someone could be sexually attracted to me. I wasn’t so ignorant to believe that other people were also repulsed by sex and I knew other people enjoyed sex, especially teenagers. But the mere idea that someone could view me in a way related to sex – even if they didn’t want to act on it – was so unsettling to me that I couldn’t stand it. I don’t think it was about being seen as a sexual object by boys, since those were easy to turn down (and I did have a few male classmates ask me out), but rather seen as being sexually attractive to boys I already had a good friendship with.

Also, while I was aware of homosexuality from a young age and had no problems with it, there were no girls out as wlw while all of this was going on, so it didn’t occur to me to be wary of their attraction. I knew as well that I wasn’t interested in girls, so – because my framework was “straight or gay” without a concept of asexuality – by default I must be interested in boys, and them with me. There’s also the gendered stereotypes of girls sharing everything with their girl friends, but not sharing emotional intimacy with boys. But most of my good friends were boys, and so if I were to be emotionally intimate with any of them, I’d have to date them.

Of course, I lacked the knowledge and self-awareness to figure all of this out until much later, and it took longer to come to terms with the relationship I had between femininity, others’ sexual attraction, and my own self-image (though none of that is static, nor should it be). I also lacked the awareness that the boys I was friends with who might be interested in asking me out might also not be interested in a physical and sexual relationship. I didn’t have the concept that an emotionally intimate relationship in high school could be anything but physical or sexual. I think a lot of it came down to the fact that I didn’t know how to process any potential awkwardness, but I wasn’t fully aware of my inability to process it, so I just avoided it as much as I possibly could. Looking back, there were definitely some contradictions in how I thought and behaved, but hey, I was a young and socially awkward teenager navigating an uncharted territory that I didn’t know was uncharted.

Besides being fairly vocal to my friends about the fact I wasn’t interested in dating (which I explained away by saying “I don’t want to be distracted by dating during high school”, such a typical excuse of non-straight folk) the best weapon I had against people finding me attractive was to downplay my appearance. And so I desexualized my appearance – or, rather, maintained the neutral appearance I’d had from elementary school and made it even less attractive to boys (at least, in the opinion of my adolescent self.) Any act of femininity that was noticed by a teacher or female classmate was something that could be noticed by a boy in my high school, which meant that they may be inspired to ask me out, which meant sexual attraction, which was repulsive and uncomfortable to me.

I hold no ill will towards myself for not understanding this when I was a teenager, and I don’t blame any of the authority figures or educators in my life for not helping me understand this. It’s likely they didn’t understand any of this themselves, and it’s not like I was fully aware of why I felt certain ways and did certain things either, nor was I very open about all of this either because I can be a rather private person at times. It’s also not like asexuality, aromanticism, and sex-repulsion are well-known things, let alone discussed frequently in books about childrearing and queer adolescents. It’s just another sign of how the hyper focus on heterosexual monogamy (also known as amatonormativity) in Western culture and society actively hurts queer people, especially when they’re young and aren’t aware that they’re not straight, or are but are struggling to come to terms with that (it also applies to non-cis folk, but that’s not relevant to my experience.)

Ultimately, I see my struggles with gender presentation and interpersonal relationships, and the stress they caused me, during middle and high school as a symptom of our culture and society’s failure in general to represent a wide variety of queer experiences – particularly outside of lesbian, gay, and trans identities – to young people so that people like me can better understand themselves. I can’t deny the fact that the social norms about dating and relationships in high school that I found in the media I consumed had a major impact on me, to the point where they sometimes contradicted how my mother tried to raise me. This post is in part a reflection on myself that struck me recently, but also yet another piece of evidence about how the lack of representation for ace and aro people actively damages our lives.

#wow this ended up getting long #anecdotes by peachdoxie #asexuality #aromanticism

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nowaynoee · 4 years

Text

at least i got you in my head

also on ao3

the typical clichè: very gay Maya falls in love with her very straight best friend Lola but it’s actually easier than they think.

enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

this work is inspired by this gifset 💜

She doesn’t know exactly when her feelings for Lola started to bloom.

For what she can remember, it happened quickly and her self control got thrown out of the window. Maya did try to repress them, to convince herself that she was just a whim and that sooner or later they would go away as rapidly as they came. Truth is that after almost four years her feelings are still there, strong and apparently irremovable. The thing is that while she’s confident about her being a loud and proud lesbian, as far as she knows Lola is straight, very straight, and she’s also her best friend. What a situation.

Maya met Lola the first year of high school. They sat near each other for a while before starting a conversation and as soon as that happened they got inseparable. It’s special the bond that keep them still attached even after years and both of them felt it immediately, since the first word spoken with a hint of shyness. Maya was there for Lola when her mother died and Lola was there for Maya when she came out to her foster family and they threw her out. Coming to terms with her sexuality was easy. She always knew she is attracted to women. Let’s say that when she met Lola, well, she had another confirmation.

Maya even lived with her for a short time, while she was searching a job and another place to stay. Probably the best moments of her life. She left school at the end of the second year, soon after she started working and living alone in the tiniest flat ever. Her friendship with Lola continued, maybe even stronger than before.

As said, she can’t remember the exact moment her feeling bloomed but she can remember that little istant in which she admitted to herself that no, Lola wasn’t just her best friend.

They were having a sleepover at Maya’s apartment, the very first time Lola slept there. She mocked Maya a few times about how small it was and she was right but in a way it felt like her little nest and safe place. They laughed all night long, eat here and there and did an extreme marathon of movies wrapped in a huge blanked, side by side. Maya was about to turn off the tv when she realized Lola already fell asleep and her head was comfortably placed on her shoulder. She gazed at her: her face was relaxed, her mouth slightly open and she was breathing calmly, the warmness of it directly on Maya’s neck. Lola looked beautiful like this. Maya lost herself for god knows how much to take in all the details of her. When she came back to reality, she knew. I’m in love with you . ...

Same bed two years later, she’s still in love with Lola. It’s summer and her duvet has been replaced buy just one white sheet. Lola is under it, her hair splayed on the pillow and her eyes closed in a deep sleep. The shine caused by the sweat looks surprisingly good on her and Maya has to hold herself back from caressing her cheeks. The outline of her small body is evident under the light fabric and the little top and shorts she’s wearing doesn’t help hiding it. Maya feels like a creep when she looks at Lola like this. It’s not like she doesn’t try to not do it, she does, but when you’re in love with someone you have an hard time with that. It’s even harder to accept that nothing is going to happen and you have to let go of the hope it will. She fantasizes sometimes about confessing to her, about finally be able to kiss her and call her her girlfriend. Lola lives in her mind rent free ans she wants to punch herself for letting her in in the first place.

...

“I hate it.”

This is the third outfit Lola tries for the night and once again she’s undressing only to redress again with another pairing. Maya gives her advices through it, her already having chose what to wear for the night. She knows Lola’s room by heart but every time she’s in it she always finds something new. A photo, a drawing, posters of her favourite bands. Is on those that she centers her attention while her best friend changes clothes because the view would be too much for her gay panic.

“What do you think about this one? ╴Hey? Earth to Maya?”

She turns her gaze towards Lola immediately, realizing only then that she has zoned out once again. “It’s very much your style.” She replies with a small smile curving her lips. There’s nothing special about what her friend is wearing, it being a normal pair of black jeans and a top that cuts right before her navel, still Maya can’t take her eyes of her. “I think I’ll go with this one, then. Do you still want to do my makeup and hair?” Lola asks her and Maya nods, sitting up from the chair and leaving it to her.

She loves this part of the preparation. Firstly because she gets to do what she likes and secondly because it allows her to be close to Lola without it being awkward. Sure, they cuddle sometimes but Maya always interrupts it as soon as possible: it hurts her to have Lola cuddled to her in that way. It makes her feeling want to erupt.

“Do you remember the last urbex party we went together?” Lola asks her, bringing up her eyes to let Maya putting the kajal on the lower rim. Maya does remember it, well even. It was three months ago. “You were so mad because you spent like an hour doing my makeup and the rain smudget it like thirty minutes after we arrived.” She chuckles and suddenly stops when Maya gives her a little punch to not mess up what she’s doing. “It was one of my best works! It looked so good.” because it was on you , she wants to say but doesn’t. Instead they keep small talking until Lola’s ready and they get out of her house.

…

The party is crowded, like really crowded.

Once they arrived they met up with Jo, Max and Sekou and headed directly to the bar. They all took something to drink while Maya, as always, decided for a simple soda. Maya doesn’t like dancing that much, she definitely enjoys more listening to the loud music and laying on one of the free couches. Max and Sekou usually stay with her while Lola and Jo get crazy on the dancefloor for hours. “ ╴so, no target tonight?” Max’s voice gets her out of her thoughts, at least enough to take a look at the whole place in search of someone interesting. It’s not like Maya waited for Lola all these years, at least not apparently. She had a few night stands and one relationship even. It didn’t last that long and plus, Lola hated the girl in question. They mocked each other all the time and they were practically in an ongoing competition of who knew Maya better. Lola won each and every time.

“I don’t know.” Maya answers because she really doesn’t. There’s really no girl that attracts her that much and them being in a random club and not into a gay one makes things a little difficult for her. Better to keep some distance from straight girls, right?

“Oh, come on Maya—“ before Max can finish the sentence, Jo comes running towards where they’re seated, spreading herself in the free space they left for her. “God, I’m sweating from every pore, I swear! The drink I swallowed in one go didn’t help either, my head spins so bad right now.” She cups her face with her hands and Maya brings one of hers on her back, moving it in small circles.

“Wait — where is Lola?” Maya asks her as soon as Jo seems to feel better. “Mmh, she’s with a guy, I don’t even remember his name. He was cute though, she has taste!” Her words make her sigh, fortunately the loud music covers it. It doesn’t take to much of looking to find Lola in the crowd, pressed against the wall with a guy literally eating her face like there’s no tomorrow. Maya feels her stomach clenching and a sharp pain right where her heart is placed. The nausea hits her suddenly and she has to take a few deep breaths to swallow down the food she ate a few hours before. It’s not the first time she sees Lola with a guy, she has seen her with plenty flirts and even in a short-term relationship. This time hits different though. Maybe because it’s been three months since the last party they went to and she didn’t have to see her making out with anyone for all this time.

“I’m going out. I need some fresh air.” She blurts out, sitting up. Her head spins and tears are threatening to come out each second that passes.

“Maya, wait.” She hears Sekou say and she stops, turning around only to find that all three of her friends are looking at her with a concerned expression.

“You can’t keep going like this. You have to tell her what you feel.” He adds, signing her to sit again with them. They knew from the beginning what was going on between her and Lola. Even before Maya admitted it to herself. At first, when they tried to bring up her feelings, she brushed it off saying it was just in their head. Obviously it wasn’t. Jo, Max and Sekou mocked her about her crush for Lola for a long time when she finally told them they were right all along. Only when they realized that it wasn’t just a crush but that Maya really fell in love with Lola they stopped and tried encouraging her to tell her everything.

“I can’t, I can’t tell her what I feel. I would lose her! She doesn’t love me like that.” She said the same exact words a million times but it still hurts her to repeat them out loud. If Maya was sure that she wouldn’t lose her by confessing her feeling, she would at least think about it. The truth is that just the idea of not having her in her life is worse that having Lola just like a friend.

“It’s just what it is. I’ll get over it.” All three are rolling their eyes and Maya can tell they’re truly done with her bullshit.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

Maya recognizes Lola’s voice as soon as she hears it and she finds Lola right behind her, bringing her arms around Maya’s neck and pressing herself on her back. The sitting position which Maya’s in makes Lola more comfortable and she leans in to her fully. “Are you tired?” Lola speaks in her ear to make herself be heard only by Maya. The latter nods, tilting her head up to see her friend’s face. “Guys, I don’t want to ruin your fun but tomorrow I’m working. I really need to go home.” It’s a lie , Maya thinks. She knows that Lola doesn’t work on sunday and probably the others know too but don’t say anything. They gather their things quickly, none of them too sorry to leave. During the ride home she gazes at Lola sometimes, the image of her kissing the stranger still very vivid in her head. She can’t seem to ignore it like she did in the past.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Lola whispers, their bodies tangled in a tight hug in Lola’s bed. Her best friend is caressing her hair, scratching her scalp from time to time, till she drags her finger under Maya’s chin to make her turn up her head.

Everything about this is wrong. Everything that she’s feeling is wrong but Maya can’t say it. She can’t bring herself to form the right words. Even thinking about that hurts her. Lola knows something is not right and Maya can see her questioning and concerned look. She gulps and looks away, trying to escape any further question. “It’s nothing.” She brushes it off, placing her head again on Lola’s shoulder.

“It’s not nothing if it bothers you.” Lola murmurs in her hair, her breath warm against it. She always knows when something is wrong and doesn’t leave it until Maya actually talks. It’s not the first time Maya feels like this, jealousy striking her until she almost stops breathing and shame after because they aren’t even together. She managed for a long time to swallow it down, to cry even when it all became too much, without Lola seeing it but she can’t seem to bring herself to do it now.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Maya mutters, voice so low she’s not even sure Lola heard her. “I’m sorry.” She adds after a few seconds. A tear escapes and she’s fast to dry it out but not fast enough for Lola not to notice.

“Maya…”

Her heart clenches at hearing Lola saying her name and when one tear starts to become a full on crying session, Lola just holds her tighter. Maya grabs Lola’s shirt with her fist, as a way of saying please don’t leave me as her cheeks dampens, leaving a wet stain on the fabric.

“It will all be alright Maya. I promise.” She whispers and for the first time Maya can’t bring herself to believe her.

…

It’s been a week since her breakdown in Lola’s arms. They didn’t talk about it again, Lola deciding to leave Maya her privacy and time to come to her when she’ll be ready. Except that she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be ready. During the last seven days she kept some sort of distance with Lola, trying to shake off the image of her from the last saturday. Maya even tried to go on a date to remove the said girl from her mind for at least a bunch of hours. Her date was cute, hesitant when she pressed her lips against Maya’s ones, only to start kissing her deeper when she felt her hands pinching her waist. They spent the night together and the sex was good, it served its purpose. Maya didn’t call this girl again. As soon as she left in the morning, she put the bedsheets in the washer and brought herself under the shower until the girl’s perfume wasn’t on her skin anymore.

When Jo sent her a message proposing her to go out again on saturday, she initially refused. Parties weren’t fun anymore. Jo, being the chaotic girl she is, tried again, this time asking her to do a sleepover at her house. She wanted to find an excuse but she couldn’t keep ignoring her friends and Lola. Maya’s flat is small but it can handle five people if they squeeze enough to sleep. One thing was for sure, Maya wasn’t sleeping near Lola again.

...

“Never have I ever… Kissed someone of the same sex.” Jo speaks first, getting immediately puzzled looks towards her. “Seriously Jo?” Maya jokes, laughing quietly and drinking from her cup. Max, Jo and Sekou have vodka in their cups, Lola has it too but barely drinks it and Maya can tell because she doesn’t see her swallowing down the liquid when she should be. Maya, as always, has a simple soda. “I know you did, you silly, I just wanted to know if I was the only one that didn’t. Apparently I’m not!” As soon as Jo lets out the last words, she takes a look at Lola which has her gaze on her glass and isn’t drinking. It’s late night and Maya can see she’s tired of playing this game as much as she is. Fortunately it doesn’t take long until their three friends collapse on the mattress she placed in her living room. The only two that sleep doesn’t take are Lola and Maya.

They remain in silence for what it feels like an eternity. It’s uncomfortable but at the same time it’s not if it’s even possible. They’re facing each other while sitting on Maya’s small couch but they both are keeping their eyes down, avoiding the other’s looks. The unspoken weights on them like a million bricks and neither of them is courageous enough to lift it. At least that’s what Maya thought.

“Never have I ever fell in love with my best friend.”

Lola’s voice isn’t loud but Maya hears it amplified ten times more than it actually is. The implied question leaves her surprised and makes her heart skip a beat. She snaps her head back up, her eyes locked in Lola’s ones unable to move them somewhere else now. Her lips part slightly but no sounds escapes from them. She doesn’t even have the cup in her hands anymore from where she could drink. In a way, Lola trapped her. Lola didn’t say that innocently or without thinking about it. They aren’t even playing anymore so there’s a second ending for sure.

“Why are you asking me this?” Maya ends up saying after gaining enough confidence to form a coherent sentence.

“I remember. I remember everything .”

╴╴╴

Three months ago

Lola’s body was pressed against Maya’s side, while one of her arms was lazily placed around her shoulder to steady her. She felt dizzy but she wasn’t drunk. Or at least she wasn’t anymore, the effect of alcohol slowly left her body during their long ride home. Max decided to bring them and their friends to an urbex party on the other side of the city and the traffic, especially when they were going back home, was unbearable. They had fun that night, Lola dancing as always with Jo and sometimes bringing Maya with her even if she was complaining. She felt Maya’s front against her back and she couldn’t help pressing herself even closer to her, swinging her hips at the rhythm of the music. Thanks to the non-existent distance between them, she could feel Maya holding her breath.

It’s not like Lola didn’t notice that Maya was sometimes awkward around her. She tried to ignore it for some time but not thinking about it made her do it even more. Not only about what was going on in Maya’s head, but also what was going on in hers. She was straight as far as she knew, she has always been with boys and she liked it. Lola knew that Maya was attracted to girls only and she never had a problem with it. At least until her best friend wasn’t near one of them that wasn’t her. Maya’s first relationship was with a certain Charlotte, a girl she met at work. Lola hated her from the first second she saw her and never failed to make that very known. Maya tried so hard to find a common ground between the two of them but she never succeed. She knew that Maya didn’t love Char, she could see it in her eyes. It was just a matter of time until they broke up. When they did, Lola wasn’t surprised.

What she was really surprised about was her — jealousy towards her? She couldn’t explain exactly what she felt at the time, she just realized that she wanted to be the one Maya was holding. She wanted to be the one Maya was kissing. She wanted to be the one Maya looked at. She wanted to be at Char‘s place. Her feelings were confusing and Lola didn’t try to let them out for fear of hurting Maya. She ignored them by throwing herself in the arms of random guys, having even a relationship with one of them for a few months. At the end of the day though, she always ended up in Maya’s arms thinking what would it be like to be held. Seriously held by her.

She couldn’t ignore them anymore that night, after the urbex party.

Maya helped her going up the stairs and when they arrived inside her house she splayed herself on the couch. “This party was awesome.” Lola said, placing her head on Maya’s shoulder when she sat on her side. She could hear her trying to breathe slowly and, when she brought her hand on her friend’s chest, she took the time to feel her heartbeat against her palm. “Your heart is beating so fast.” She murmured, moving her chin until it was placed on the crook of Maya’s neck. Lola knew that with her lips being so close to her skin she could feel her breath against that sensitive spot. Lola’s mind is dizzy but not on alcohol and Maya’s silence is somehow motivating her to not stop. “Maya, look at me.” It was whispered extremely low but Maya must have heard her because she turned her head on Lola’s side.

“Lola, w-what are you doing?” Maya’s voice was unsteady, breathy and insecure. Lola tilted her head up a bit, until she could make their fronts touch. Maya closed her eyes and parted her lips almost immediately but nothing happened for long. They remained like that, enjoying their closeness and the silence that filled the room again.

Suddenly, Lola couldn’t hold back anymore. She slowly got closer and closer, until their lips brushed one another. Maya let out little sigh and that’s when Lola took the opportunity to bring their lips together one for all. It wasn’t more than a simple peck, even if it lasted a bit longer than that, but it still was enough to make Lola shiver.

Yes, she was acting drunker than she was only to make this easier. Only to pretend she forgot about it just in case Maya reacted badly.

Before she was able to deepen their kiss, Maya pulled her back by placing both her hands on Lola’s shoulder. “No Lola, this isn’t right.” She marked, getting up from the couch. It took Lola a few seconds to realize what was happening and when she did a wave of regret hitted her. Tears threatened to come out but she held them back as much as she could. “I’m bringing you a blanket.” She heard Maya say but her voice seemed like it came from afar. She felt the warmness of the fabric enveloping her and her back pressed on the couch cushions.

“You’re drunk, you need to get some rest. You won’t remember anything in the morning.” And she placed a kiss on her forehead, delicate as the tone of her voice.

She wanted to scream: no, i will. Sleep took over her before she could even part her lips.

╴╴╴

“You remember that you —“

“I kissed you.” Lola mutters, letting out the words that Maya can’t seem to pronounce.

Maya is in full on panic. Lola was drunk as far as she knew but apparently not as drunk to forget the moment they shared together.

She thought about that kiss a lot in the last three months, she couldn’t get it out of her head. For the three seconds it lasted, she was the happiest person on earth. She leaned to the touch of Lola’s lips even, soft and plump just like she imagined them, and she lost herself for a moment. Her heart was ready to burst out of her chest and her body was shaking from excitement and relief. It all came crashing down when she came back to earth and realized that none of that was true and felt. Lola was out of it, she had to carry her throughout the stairs and help her to sit on the couch. Probably the kiss was nothing more than an induced action caused by the effect of alcohol. Maya obliged herself to forget about it but she just couldn’t. After their kiss, at least, she didn’t saw Lola entertaining herself with a guy for a long time. Until the last party they went to.

Now Lola is there, saying that she remembers anything and the only thing Maya wants to do is to run through the door. She doesn’t want to handle rejection. In a way, it’s better not to know and still have a minuscule hope than knowing that nothing is going to happen ever because her best friend is straight as a line.

“Let’s not talk about it, okay? It doesn’t have to mean anything. It was just a kiss.” Maybe the reverse psychology can work to get her out of the situation. Maya tries to brush it off as nothing important, as something they can forget because it didn’t have to mean anything for their future. They were still going to have a future, right?

“Just a kiss.” Lola repeats and Maya can hear almost disappointment in her voice. She doesn’t get it, though. Lola shouldn’t feel disappointed. After all, none of them talked about it after it happened and even if Lola remembered chose to not talk about it.

Lola is suddenly closer to her and she fails in the intent of backing off from her. She feels paralyzed all of the sudden and confused too. Their eyes lock again and the intensity of Lola’s gaze is almost unbearable for her poor heart. “Lola…” Maya manages to whisper when one of Lola’s hand come to rest on her cheek and, unable to think in a rational way, she places one of hers on top of her friend’s. Their forehead touch, just like they did three months ago and at this point Maya is too far gone.

Words become unnecessary when, in a surge of courage, Maya closes the distance between her and Lola. I’ll probably regret this in the morning , she has barely the time to think. Their lips meet in an innocent kiss, a soft press that is enough to send sparks all through Maya’s spine. She doesn’t dare to deepen it but in the end she doesn’t need too because Lola is doing it for her. She brings the other hand on Maya’s free cheek and uses it to move her head how she wants it. If it wasn’t for Lola’s firm hold, Maya would probably already stopped to see any sign of discomfort in Lola’s face. But her tongue is licking her bottom lip and Maya lets her in, giving up any form of resistance. It’s heavenly and it feels good but she can’t bring herself to enjoy the moment fully. She feels dirty, like she took advantage of the vulnerable moment to do what she wanted the most for years.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I-I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” Maya parts their lips abruptly and almost immediately she can see that Lola didn’t expect it. It took her a few seconds to open her eyes and realize that Maya wasn’t kissing her anymore. She still tastes the delicate vodka flavour of Lola’s mouth and the softness of her lips against hers. The thing is that she can’t handle all of this. She can’t handle to be kissed passionately by Lola just because she feels sorry for her and her stupid feelings she can’t ignore. If Maya could go back in time before she knew how having Lola that close to her felt, she would. Three months ago she wouldn’t have let herself lean into her friend’s touch even if she thought that she wouldn’t remember it. Lola tries to mutters something but nothing escapes from her lips but a sigh.

“I have to go.” Maya forgets for a moment that she’s in her own house and there’s nowhere she can go. The flat is so small that there’s no way to stay far from Lola how she would like to. She ends up locking herself in her little bathroom, like a baby, and drags her back on the door until she’s sitting on the pavement. Her head bumps on the wood as she tries to inhale and exhale without shaking. She wants to punch herself, again.

She hears a knock on the door and then a dragging sound on it. Lola is in the same position as she’s in. “Maya, please. Can we talk?” Lola pleads, her voice shaky. Maya wants to let her in but doing it also means making her dreams crush after almost four years. There’s no way Lola feels the same for her, she doesn’t even know what it means to be in love with someone and not being able to breathe because they’ll never be yours. There’s nothing in the world she would like more now than to be held by her, to hear her voice saying that it’ll all be alright even if it’s a lie, to feel her fingers caressing her head and making her eyes flutter in the process. But Maya can’t. Her heart is already too broken. In the end, she doesn’t answer. Instead, she closes her eyes and lets a tear run on her cheek. A tear that quickly turn into many and quiet sobs escape her mouth.

On the top of it all, she overhears Lola getting up.

…

Maya ended up passing out on her bathroom floor.

When she wakes up god knows how many hours later, it takes her a few minutes to remember what happened during the night. She feels her skin dry as the sahara and her eyes burning from all the crying she has done. The shame hits her before she can even get up and it all goes downhill from there. She looks at herself in the mirror, her face tired and sleepy, and she’s still wearing the clothes from yesterday. She doesn’t know what to do now. Lola probably run away from her after the improbable reaction she had and Maya has absolutely no intention of talking to her. After some minutes of self pity, she splashes ice cold water on her skin and washes her teeth in an attempt to remove every little particle of Lola in her mouth.

Surprisingly, she isn’t alone in her flat. The first thing she sees going out of the bathroom is Max figure fumbling with something on the table and judging from the sweet smell he’s preparing breakfast for both of them. “Morning.” She murmurs with a sleep voice. Max turns to her as soon as he hears her and a small smile curves his lips. “I made breakfast. You need to eat something.” His tone is concerned as much as his face is. There’s no way he doesn’t know what happened. Or at least, there’s no way he didn’t notice that Maya didn’t get out of the bathroom for the whole night. “I fucked everything up. You have no idea how much I fucked it up.” She admits, sitting in one of the table chairs.

“Maya, listen.” Max starts while putting in front of her a mug full of coffee. “You hid your feelings for her for four years. Do you know how much time it is? People get together, get married and divorce in even less than that.” He takes a sip from his espresso and Maya can’t help but signing. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?” She asks him, visibly annoyed. “No, this supposed to make you realize that one day it’ll happen anyway. You’re sensitive, you feel everything ten thousand times amplified. Keeping all in isn’t doing any good to you.” He knows he’s right. Maya too. Keeping her feelings to herself made her slowly spiral in an infinite vortex of what if instead of living in the present and actually making her reality go in the way she wanted it to. Maybe it is the time to get out of her comfort zone, get out of the sea of doubts that has been drowning her and finally make a move. After all, it can’t be a case it all happened.

“I’ll talk to her. I’ll tell her everything, this time for real.” She gazes at Max and finds in him nothing but an expression of support and fondness. “I hope she won’t leave me.”

“ She won’t , Maya.”

…

Two days passed since her conversation with Max.

She was still convinced that talking with Lola was the best thing to do but bringing herself to do it required a bit of work. Maya spent these days taking care of herself. After the night with Lola and breakfast with Max, she took a long bath and thought about what to say to her best friend. Sorry if I locked myself in the bathroom, I’m in love with you was lame and made shame rise up at the pit of her stomach; I’m in love with you but I know you’re straight and I didn’t know what to do, so I fantasized about you kissing me for years and when that happened I got scared made her look like a creep. Maybe it was better if Lola never knew about her fantasizing. Who can blame her though?

If she couldn’t have Lola for real, she could have her in her fantasy. Maya used to dream about her a lot, especially at the beginning when she was starting to realize that what was feeling for Lola wasn’t exactly platonic. She dreamt about them in her bed, during one of their many sleepovers, legs entangled and busy lips. The heat of their bodies pressed together no matter the outside temperature, their curves perfectly fitting in one another and their fingers intertwined in a tight hold. When she woke up in the morning, she felt extremely guilty for those images running in her head, even more if Lola was by her side sleeping peacefully. She usually went to the bathroom to wash her face and to step out of that sleep induced fantasy, until she didn’t feel bothered anymore. Even if Lola couldn’t hear her, she always whispered a little I’m sorry .

Going back to the present, Maya is torn on what practically do to talk to Lola. She thinks about going to her house and wait there until Lola let’s her in or sending her a simple message, or even going to her workplace because suddenly waiting a few more hours seems unbearable. She goes for the second option in the end, hoping that Lola won’t take too long to reply.

to Lola: hey, can we talk? i’m sorry for what i did last time, it was stupid. i panicked and i left you without a word. i’ll explain it all to you, i promise.

She sends it before she can even read it again. Not even one minute later, Lola reads it. Maya’s fingers start trembling and the hold on her phone becomes precarious as she sees Lola typing, and typing, and typing.

A few second later, Lola’s not online anymore and leaves her on read.

…

Maya doesn’t even have the strength to be sad or get angry at herself anymore. She just stares at the screen, hoping that she’ll see Lola online again, but that doesn’t happen. Million thoughts spin in her head as she lays on the couch, the very same couch they kissed two times on. It’s half past eleven and Lola left work at least five hours ago. There’s no way she didn’t have time to reply to her text. She simply didn’t want to reply. Maya understands her, really. Finding out that your very gay best friend is in love with you, getting kissed, being left out of the bathroom without an explanation and, on the top of it, being completely straight must not be easy to handle. Probably if she was in the same situation as Lola, she would have reacted the same way.

Even after all that occurred between them, Maya can’t shake off the feeling that it can’t be done. If she got to know Lola as well as she thought in these four years together, it can’t be done. Maya knows her and she’s not the type to leave unfinished business behind her.

The ring of her doorbell gets her out of her thoughts and she quickly goes to open the door. Her heart clenches when she sees who is outside her flat this late. Lola.

“Hey. Can I come in?” Lola asks out of breath. She run for sure because she’s sweating and considering the five ramps of stairs to arrive to Maya’s flat is not that improbable. Maya lets her in with a welcoming gesture and as she enters her apartment, she never looks away from her. Lola doesn’t sit, instead she stands in the middle of the room, her chest still going up and down. She brings her look up, until she meets Maya’s one and takes a long breath before talking. “I want to talk first. Please, let me.” Lola says and Maya never heard her talking with such a firm voice. She simply nods as she places herself in front of her best friend.

“I met you when I was fifteen years old and I was in a bad place back then. My mother was dying and my family was breaking right in front of my eyes. I started high school thinking that I would hate every second of it but then you sat next to me and we started talking and I immediately knew that you would ruin me for everyone else. The special connection we have is something that I’ll be forever grateful for.” Lola stops for a second, a smile curving her lips. “When my mother died you were there for me and I was there for you when you came out to your foster family. We’ve been there for each other always, you are the best friend I could aim for. The truth is, though, that there is something more to it.”

Maya feels stuck, incapable to move every single muscle. So Lola did really understand it all from the beginning, maybe even before she admitted to herself that she was in love with her. She listens carefully to Lola’s words and as she asked, lets her talk.

“I knew you were having a few night stands but one day you came to my workplace with Charlotte and I was surprised. I never saw you that physically close to anyone before, not even me and I don’t know, I felt something that I’ve never felt before. I realized only later, after fighting with Char countless of times, that I was simply jealous of her. At first I thought it was because she took away most of the time we used to spend together but after truly thinking about it — this wasn’t the reason.” She takes a big, deep breath before continuing. “I was jealous of her because I wanted to be the one you kissed. I wanted to be the one you held your hand in the street with and I wanted to be the one you cuddled back home. Three months ago I shoot my shot and I kissed you on that couch not because I was drunk, not because I wanted to have fun with you. I did it because I fucking wanted to. I had to act on what I was feeling, I couldn’t hold it back anymore for fear that you didn’t feel the same. When you rejected me I felt so bad. I thought you didn’t want me.” Her voice trembles at the last words and she gulps down the lump in her throat. “ — then the other night you kissed me first, this time a real kiss, and It never felt so right with anyone else before. I know that I always told you that I was straight, trust me I truly believed it. I tried to say to myself that maybe what I was feeling for you was just affection but Maya, it’s not. I think I’m in love with you and I’m so fucking scared I have ruined everything between us.” Lola is crying, full on sobbing even but she doesn’t bother to dry her tears from her cheeks, she just leaves them stream out freely.

Maya takes in Lola’s words and has to pinch herself to make sure she’s not dreaming. Apparently, there is a universe where hers is not an unrequited love and she’s lucky enough to live in it. For all these years she was convinced there was no possibility of her and Lola together, together as a couple. She suffered so much. All those sleepless nights, all those hurtful fantasies, all the times she wanted to tell her how she felt but couldn’t because the fear of rejection held her down each time. Maya couldn’t know, though. Lola had always maintained a very good straight facade but after hearing her words, she understands why she did it. They were both scared of losing each other and Lola was most possibly confused with her sexuality, which is not something to underestimate. Maya wants to say a million things and at the same time remains silent to enjoy this moment for a little bit more before it ends. She parts her lips in an unspoken word and from her watery eyes she can see Lola’s figure blurred.

“Please, say something.” Lola’s voice is pleading, loud in the silence of the flat.

She takes a big breath, while the words in her head start to make enough sense to be spoken out loud. “Lola, I’m in love with you since the first time I saw you. It took me some time to admit it to myself but I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the exact moment my eyes met yours. This is so cheesy but it’s true.” Maya can’t hold back a tiny chuckle. “I spent the last four year asking myself why I fell in love with a girl I could never be with. I always saw you with guys, you told me you were straight and I never suspected the contrary. I fell in love with you anyway. You’re the best person I know, beautiful inside and out. You have no idea how many times I dreamed about you saying exactly what you just said to me, I swear. Maybe this is some law of attraction shit, I don’t know.” She takes a few steps to be finally close enough to Lola to wipe away her tears. She’s still crying but has her signature smirk on her lips. Maya leaves a kiss on her forehead and caresses her hair, bringing them back her ears.

“You better kiss me right now.” Lola whispers, an inch separating their lips. “ — and don’t even think of locking yourself in the bathroom again because I’ll fucking break that door.”

Maya lets out a little laugh but she’s quick to close the distance between them just like she did a few days ago. This time, though, none of them has any intention to separate. This kiss has nothing innocent about it. It’s passionate, a bit sloppy and their teeth clashes together but they don’t care. It’s perfect in it’s own way. Delicacy left the chat a long ago. They stumble to the bed soon after and it’s all fast and blurry from there. The very same bed where everything began, where Maya realized she was in love with Lola. Maya’s fantasies quickly were becoming a reality as they lost themself with the moonlight shining from the window.

…

The morning after, their role switched. This time was Maya feeling watched in her sleep. She slowly opens up her eyes, revealing Lola’s figure on her side, her head laying on the pillows and her eyes towards her.

“Were you watching me sleep?” Maya murmurs with a sleepy voice, shifting under the covers to get even closer to Lola. “Yes. Just like you did for the past four years with me.” Lola laughs and it’s the best sound Maya could hear this early in the morning. So for all this time Lola knew that she was glancing at her while she was asleep but never said anything. Maya’s cheeks turn red in an instant but Lola is quick at brushing off of her the embarrassment with a peck on her lips. “Is this some type of revenge then?” Maya asks jokingly, reaching out for Lola’s hip under the duvet and pinching it. “Oh, stop!” Obviously Maya doesn’t, and keeps pinching her hip and her stomach. Lola tries to get away from her, failing miserably, because Maya’s hold is strong enough to keep her exactly where she is. When they stop laughing, she sees Lola face changing, the same face she does when she wants to tell something but doesn’t know how to.

She talks after a while, hesitant. “About tonight —” Before she can continue, Maya puts her lips on hers in a reassuring kiss. “Hey. You’ve never been with a girl before, it’s normal. I won’t push you into doing anything you don’t want to do.” She whispers, placing a hand on her cheek and caressing it with her thumb. Maya remembers that even if she was sure about her sexuality since as long as she can remind, her first time with a girl was still all tentative touches and embarrassment when she didn’t know what to do. Lola was no different but honestly Maya can’t care less about sex when she is with the person she loves the most in the whole world. Plus, they have plenty of time ahead of them to experiment with each other.

“But — I do want to touch you.” Lola mutters on Maya’s lips, as her hands travel on the side of her body. Maya shivers and kisses her again, again and again.

…

They get out of bed around noon with the intent to eat something but instead they find themselves sitting on the couch again. Lola is cuddled between Maya’s legs, her back on Maya’s front and her head gently placed on her chest. She’s running her fingers through her hair like she always does, letting the brown strands wrap around and then letting them go. She knows Lola loves when she plays with her hair, it makes her feel extremely relaxed and cared for. It is also their way to tell one another that something was wrong when there are people around. One of them puts a hand on the other hair and they know. They sneaked off so many times with this technique and all of them they found themself alone in a comfortable hug. Today is different, though. The hugs and the cuddles that used to be platonic aren’t anymore and Maya doesn't have to dream about the softness of Lola’s lips.

“Hey Maya —” Lola starts, turning her head enough to see Maya’s face. “ … Now I can stop calling you my best friend, right?” She ends up asking and Maya smiles against her forehead. “You better.” She imitates Lola’s tone of last night, when she told her to kiss her. Maya lost count of how many times she pinched herself already. She always does it when Lola can’t see her because she knows she would mock her for her entire life if she saw. It’s just that she still can’t believe she gets yo have Lola like this. It feels natural with her, it feels like home, but after four years of desperate longing and gay panic when she found herself a little closer than normal to her, you can’t blame her.

“I want to tell the others about this… About us.” Lola adds, shifting from her laying position on a more comfortable one straddling Maya’s lap. Maya’s hands travel from her waist to her thighs, while she locks eyes with Lola. “I’m not sure I want to do it now, though. It’s not because I’m scared of how people will react seeing me with a girl, I want to make this clear.” She clarifies, playing with the hem of Maya’s shirt. “I want to take the time to live all of this for a while, just the two of us.” Maya couldn’t agree more. She is out and proud but has nothing against Lola needing some time to process everything privately. She doesn’t care about how Lola will decide to define herself or even if she won’t at all, the only important thing is that Lola’s happy and if she can be the person to make her happy… Well, so much better. “I’ll give you as much time as you need.” Maya smiles and Lola makes their noses brush against one another.

“Thank you.” Lola murmurs on Maya’s lips and then she cups her face with her hands, bringing them together in a delicate press. Maya doesn’t answer but she’s sure that her lingering touches on Lola’s back and both of them deepening the kiss enough to get lost in it once again is enough to reassure Lola that she isn’t going anywhere,

that she’s here to stay.

#this was cute to write #i loved writing from maya's pov might do that again #there's angst but it ends well i promise #also hayley kiyoko song is iconic i love it #this is obviously inspired to her song sleepover #mayla fic #mayla #skam france

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Revelation Sunshine, Chapter 2 (Courtney/Vixen) - Veronica

A/N: I am so excited to finally be writing this story, especially as part of the challenge. Thank you so much to anyone who’s liked or commented. And especially thank you to the creator of the Galactica universe, @theartificialdane

Last chapter: After flirting via text and social media for a few months, Vixen and Courtney finally met in person, and ended up in bed.

This chapter: After a slightly awkward morning, they try to navigate an undefined long-distance situation.

***

It could have been a lazy morning, cuddling in bed while the rain pounded down outside, streaming against the windows, turning the whole world blurry and surreal. Vixen could have stayed in bed, warm and safe, and basked in the glow of their adorable puppy-love until Courtney had to leave for her photo shoot.

She could have let herself enjoy this—whatever it was, for at least a few more hours.

Instead, she woke up feeling unsettled and insecure, slipping out of bed to hunt down a toothbrush while Courtney dozed peacefully. It wasn’t until she was trying to quietly put her clothes back on and figure out where the hell her coat was that Courtney stirred.

“Good morning,” Courtney said with a yawn, sitting up slowly, tousled hair falling over her shoulders.

“Hey, sorry, I was trying not to wake you,” Vixen said. Her coat was nowhere to be found, she realized, because it was still downstairs where she’d checked it when she arrived. She rolled her eyes at her own alcohol-fueled stupidity and shoved her feet into her shoes.

It seemed to take Courtney a few moments to comprehend what Vixen had said, brow furrowing.

“You weren’t gonna say goodbye?” she asked softly.

Vixen froze.

“No, that’s not what I...I just know it’s early and I didn’t want to bother you with-”

Shit.

Courtney pulled the blankets up over her chest, an inscrutable expression on her face.

“Look, I know that I have a reputation for…” she paused, swallowing, “...I guess, taking this kind of thing lightly. But, that’s not what this is. I really like you.”

Guilt bloomed in Vixen’s chest as she moved to the bed, sitting down beside her. It actually hadn’t occurred to her, until this very moment, that Courtney might be feeling a scrap of the insecurity that plagued her. Everything about her life felt so charmed and perfect and easy; it was hard to remember that she was human too.

“I’m sorry,” Vixen said sincerely. “I really like you too. I just...I wasn’t thinking.”

Courtney nodded. It seemed like she believed her, so Vixen decided not to push it.

“Um...you fly back tonight, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And then your tour starts on-”

“Friday,” Courtney answered, a hint of resigned exhaustion in her voice before adding a chipper, “Can’t wait!”

Vixen chuckled softly.

“Well...then I guess I’ll see you when you’re in Chicago.”

“Yeah?” Courtney’s eyes shone hopefully.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

Courtney gave her a lopsided grin, which deepened when Vixen moved closer, kissing her lightly.

“Hey, um...text me later. Tell me about that museum,” Courtney told her, fingers lacing with Vixen’s.

“I will. And you...let me know how everything goes today.”

“Sure.”

When Vixen pulled back to look at her, she was relieved as the brightness in her eyes. It was going to be a long couple of months, but with things being what they were, it seemed unwise to try and define their relationship any more than “can’t wait to see you again.” So for now, this would have to do.

***

Trying to keep a lid on her obvious fuming, Vixen typed out a text.

Sorry to bother you right now, but the guard won’t let us in without backstage passes. Can someone maybe call him?

“Where are your passes?” the guard said again, crossing his arms, a scowl on his face.

“I...already told you, we don’t have passes, but I’m supposed to be on the list. Toni Taylor.” Vixen shifted, indignation rising in her chest as he stared her down. She was not going to lose it, though. Not here.

“You’re not on the list,” he said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Show him the text!” Monet said, elbowing her in the ribs.

“Oh right...sir, look. I have a text from Courtney Act that says to meet her here. I just contacted her again, but I’m sure she’s busy, so if you could-”

“How the hell do I know that’s a real text?” the guard scoffed.

“I...how far would we get if it wasn’t?!” Vixen asked, exasperated. “You think her people are just gonna let us in? Do you think that we think we can sneak around anywhere?” Vixen gestured to their group, five tall Black women all in bright, colorful club wear. Not the most inconspicuous of groups.

COURTNEY: OMG COMING NOW

“She says she’s coming,” Vixen said, looking up at the girls.

“Herself?” Monique asked, head tilted questioningly.

“I...I don’t know,” Vixen said.

But in fact, within 2 minutes, Courtney rounded the corner, in silver thigh-high boots and a makeup smock, hair half in curlers, the blonde offset by fresh rainbow highlights, marching towards them like a bat out of hell. A terrified redheaded boy wearing a headset followed on her heels.

“Where are they?!” Courtney demanded, then looked up and spotted Vixen, her face softening, hurrying toward her. She wrapped Vixen into a tight embrace, saying, “I’m so sorry about this, are you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Vixen laughed. “Don’t worry, no one got out of line.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, this kind of shit is so fucking irritating.”

The guard, utterly chagrined now, started to stammer out an apology, but Courtney held up her hand.

“It’s fine. It’s your boss that I’m annoyed at.”

“So are they all on the list for-”

“Yes! All of them! Jonathan, give them the passes.” Courtney snapped her fingers at the ginger boy by her side, who hurriedly handed out VIP backstage passes to the whole group as Courtney led them back down the hall to the green room.

Mayhem and Monet exchanged a glance, Mayhem mouthing, ‘BAD ASS,’ and Monet laughing silently, nodding.

When they finally reached the large green room, Courtney turned around, urging the girls to make themselves comfortable.

“Have a seat anywhere. There’s food, drinks, and I…” she clasped her hands together. “...I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, girl. I love seeing someone yell at a douchey bouncer. Hi, I’m Monet.” She reached out a hand towards Courtney.

“Monique,” Monique jumped in quickly. “…and this is Mayhem.”

“Monet...Monique...Mayhem…” Courtney repeated with a nod. “Well, that’s gonna be a challenge.”

“Why?” Vixen asked, brow furrowed. “‘Cause all Black people look the same?”

Courtney’s eyes widened in alarm.

“No!” she insisted. “No, I meant because it’s just a lot of M names! And if-” she stopped short, seeing the stifled grins on all the faces around her, and narrowed her eyes.

Unable to hold back any longer, the girls all burst out laughing, peals of laughter bouncing off the walls. Courtney shook her head at Vixen, grinning.

“Good one. I almost had a heart attack,” she said, finally allowing herself to chuckle.

“Vix, what have we told you about scaring white girls just before their concerts?” Asia asked.

“Uhh...to do it?” The girls continued to laugh.

“Hey...I’m Moesha,” Asia said, and Courtney nodded slowly. When Mayhem hit her on the arm, she grinned and said, “Just kidding. I’m Asia.”

“Thank god,” Courtney breathed, a relieved giggle escaping. “So, I’m so glad you guys are here, but I kinda need to go finish preparing. I, uh…” She gestured to her half-done makeup and hair.

“Of course. Don’t worry about us,” Asia told her. “You go do your thing, get your makeup done, we’ll just be here. We’re gonna switch shirts and then test you on all the names.”

“Brilliant,” Courtney laughed. She turned to Vixen, fingers brushing against her wrist, asking, “Do you wanna come...hang out while they finish my makeup? You can see Kylie.”

“Sure!”

“Who’s Kylie?” Asia asked coyly, and Vixen turned around to give her a warning look before following Courtney into the adjacent room.

“Her dog.”

“Oh. Pity. I was hoping that it was her pus-”

“Asia!”

***

The concert was great—Vixen hadn’t seen Courtney perform for years, and she’d certainly upped the production value. Plus, having a VIP experience with some of her closest friends was awesome. It felt like the old days, all of them laughing and drinking and dancing and gossiping like school girls. Asia especially made her feel some type of way—ever since making partner at her law firm, she’d been working so much that Vixen hardly saw her. But tonight, they felt like kids again, even doing shots at one point, laughing until their stomachs hurt.

By the time they met Courtney backstage, collapsed in a sweaty mess on one of the green room sofas, Vixen felt pleasantly buzzed, happy and warm all over.

They settled in with more drinks and Indian food ordered from a nearby restaurant.

“So, how do you guys all know each other?” Courtney asked.

“College, mostly.” Vixen said, telling her how Asia was her RA freshman year at Hillman. “I was a fucking mess,” she said, laughing.

“You sure were,” Asia agreed, telling Courtney, “She spent most of the Fall semester on my carpet in tears.”

“Awww…”

“Well, fuck you, I had a lot on my mind!” Vixen snapped, then giggled again. “And, uh...Monique was in the same dorm. Although we didn’t really become friends until that Spring.”

“Yes! That philosophy class, with the...ugh,” Monique recalled, shaking her head.

“Monet was my study partner until she abandoned me,” Vixen went on, and Monet laughed.

“Listen, I just didn’t connect with all that sociology jargon. It didn’t speak to me,” Monet said.

“And uh, Mayhem met Monet through some educational leadership networking bullshit, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Monet nodded.

“And now we’re just...a bunch of boring ladies who work too hard and meet like once every 2 months for brunch,” Monique said.

“Party!” Mayhem added, clinking their classes.

Courtney grinned, listening to them share stories of their debaucherous college days and their sordid, stressed out twenties. Vixen could tell she was exhausted, knew that she was sacrificing her precious few hours of sleep before she had to get back onto the tour bus, just to hang out with her and get to know her friends.

Vixen kept looking over at her with a stupid, goofy smile on her face. At some point, it became permanent, making her cheeks hurt.

When the tour manager pulled Courtney away for a quick discussion, Asia took Vixen’s hand and squeezed it, saying, “Now, I know you don’t need my approval…but I like her.”

“Thanks,” Vixen grinned. Well. Continued grinning.

“And tell her I want tickets to the Oscars.”

“Oooh!” Monet chimed in. “I wanna go to the Tonys!”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be her first priority, guys,” Vixen said with an eye roll.

“It’s not fair...why can’t a rich, famous pop star fall in love with me?” Mayhem whined. “I’m very lovable.”

“Ehhh,” Monique gave her the ‘so-so’ gesture and the rest of the group busted up laughing once again.

Later, after several rounds of good-bye hugs, the girls headed for their car, and Vixen lingered behind, telling them to go ahead without her, she’d get her own car. (And then of course, she had to pretend not to see Asia’s knowing wink.)

“We had a great time, I really...you were fantastic up there,” Vixen said.

“Thank you for coming,” Courtney said, leaning against the door frame. “Now, don’t get me wrong, all audiences are special, in their own unique way…”

Vixen laughed, reaching out to cup her cheek.

“But, um…” Courtney trailed off, eyes shining as Vixen’s thumb grazed her skin.

Vixen leaned in, watching her eyes fall closed before pressing their lips together. The kiss was soft and sweet, and fairly chaste. But when Vixen pulled away, the dreamy expression on Courtney’s face made her heart hammer heavily.

“I love your hair like this,” Courtney said, admiring the gold woven into her twists.

“I tried to glam it up for you.”

“You’re beautiful.” Courtney’s lashes fluttered, arms wrapping around Vixen’s waist.

“So are you,” Vixen said, hands still cupping her face. “So...I know you must be pretty exhausted...but…you’re also really hot.”

Courtney bit her lip and leaned in for another kiss, lips trailing down her jaw and then nuzzling into her neck. She heaved a deep sigh.

“I really want you, but I can barely keep my eyes open,” Courtney admitted, voice muffled against Vixen’s skin.

“So...maybe I should leave, and let you rest.” She trailed her fingers through Courtney’s hair, watching the way her colorful highlights caught the dim light, not yet ready to let go of the moment.

“Okay,” Courtney agreed, hands still gripping her waist tightly.

Of course, she ended up staying. By the time they settled into Courtney’s hotel room, they barely had 3 hours. So Vixen just wrapped Courtney into her arms and held her, enjoying this little sliver of affection before she took off again, knowing that it might not be until her tour ended in October that they would see each other again.

***

Vixen had watched the video twice already, feeling only mildly ashamed as she started it again. Courtney was lying on a yoga mat, post-workout, skin glistening with sweat. She picked up a bottle of water, the video switching to slow motion as she began to pour it all over her face and chest. She batted her wet lashes, blinking the water out of her eyes before looking directly into the camera and slowly licking her lips. The whole video was just silly enough for plausible deniability (especially the caption of “oh no, i spilled!”) and yet unmistakably alluring. And of course, Vixen’s stomach flipped every time she saw that tongue. What was wrong with her?

VIXEN: Wow. Your last post was…

COURTNEY: You like it? ;)

VIXEN: You look like a THOT

COURTNEY: LOL! Are you slut shaming me?!

VIXEN: I mean...

COURTNEY: Wow. And here I thought you were all about empowerment. Smh

VIXEN: FINE. Go ahead...live your best slut life.

COURTNEY: Aww, thx! Xoxo

***

Vixen was deeply aware of what she said on social media. As much as she wanted to pop off at people (and had, frequently, back in another lifetime, years ago), she knew that her academic credentials required at least a small semblance of self control.

So for the most part, she kept her tweets and instagram comments brief and professional. Almost formal.

Courtney, however, had no such rules for herself. She basically said any and everything on her mind, commented unabashedly, posted without filters. (Except like, literal filters, which she seemed to enjoy tremendously.) It was both endearing and, at times, deeply concerning for Vixen, for whom privacy was essential.

For instance, there was the story from Seoul Pride, where she met up with one of her old friends, Adore Delano—the two of them gallivanting around, drinking and laughing and screaming like idiots from a parade float. The whole thing culminated in a video of Courtney in a nightclub, glassy-eyed and extremely proud of herself, literally licking Adore’s face.

And then when Vixen posted a still from an interview with the Tribune, she immediately responded with nothing but a row of 10 heart-eyed emojis. Which led to Vixen getting hundreds upon hundreds of comments from what she presumed were Courtney’s (very young) followers: unbridled, hysterical excitement the likes of which she had never seen.

VIXEN: Um. What...with all due respect...the fuck?

COURTNEY: Oh yeah. The shippers. Sorry, I should have warned you.

VIXEN: I mean. Jesus fucking Christ.

COURTNEY: We’re OTP #couplegoals now. I’m afraid you have to marry me.

VIXEN: Seems that way, doesn’t it? BTW where are you? What time is it? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?

COURTNEY: Berlin. 4 am. Yes.

VIXEN: Say goodnight, Courtney

COURTNEY: Goodnight Courtney <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

***

A few days later, after finishing some rather emotional office hours (why every student felt the need to unburden their deepest traumas on Vixen that Wednesday, she didn’t know), she took a much-needed break, sipping a cup of coffee. She saw the picture right away (okay, maybe she had alerts set up by now, whatever)—Courtney curled up in bed with her dog, wearing a fuzzy pink unicorn onesie with turquoise accents and a ridiculous rhinestoned horn.

VIXEN: I can’t decide if it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever worn, or like...mortifying

COURTNEY: Both!

VIXEN: Lol, fair enough

COURTNEY: And perfect for cuddling ;)

VIXEN: I’ll bet!

COURTNEY: Why don’t you send me a pic in your favorite sleepwear?

VIXEN: I’m supposed to be a respectable member of the faculty, and you want me to use school wifi for that?

COURTNEY: SEND NUDES XXX

VIXEN: Lol

About a week later, a box showed up at Vixen’s front door. The return address had Courtney’s name and an unfamiliar return address. She assumed it was fine, but her suspicious nature required a safety check.

VIXEN: What’s in this package that just showed up at my house?

COURTNEY: OMG! That was so fast!! Open it!!

VIXEN: So, not a bomb? Please confirm

COURTNEY: Lol, no. Open it.

Vixen took the box inside, cutting it open carefully. Inside, there was another box, pink and shiny, with a card on top. The note read, ‘To replace your hoodie. Perfect for snuggling. XO, C.’

She lifted the lid on the pink box, and nestled inside was a fluffy turquoise dragon onesie with iridescent pink scales. It was the silliest thing that Vixen had ever seen. Silly and beautiful and perfect.

VIXEN: Damn. I guess fantasies do come true.

COURTNEY: I hope so...

#rpdr fanfiction #the vixen #courtney act #courtney x vixen #trans!vixen #asia o'hara #monet x change #monique heart #mayhem miller #fluff #mild angst #lesbian au #galactica au #fic challenge #black girl magic fic #revelation sunshine #veronica #diversity fic #trans character

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