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ashasmonsters · 3 years

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The Middle Prince

Male reader x Male Tiefling (Amon)

Citrus rating: Lemon

Content: Detailed wet dreams, alcohol

Words: 8k

Note: Some MLM goodness for Pride Month! This took me longer than I intended, but only because I wrote it way too long and had to break it up into parts! Expect more in this series.

The dreams started assailing you a little over a month ago. During the first week, you couldn't remember anything. You would awake in your bedchamber covered in sweat and panting as if you had just finished a sparring session. These nights, a name danced on the tip of your tongue, escaping just as you attempted to sound it out and make it real. Confused and alone you would promptly go back to sleep after flipping over your pillow. As time passed, the dreams grew both in intensity and clarity. Though still more mysterious than normal dreams, little details here and there coalesced in your waking memory: a soft touch followed by a rough one, the smell of lavender, your fingernails gliding over shallow ridges, the color of aquamarine gemstones. These dreams visited you every night without fail.

The determinations made by the court oneiromancers were limited in scope. After spending the night in the care of one such dream diviner, they found these dreams to be coming from somewhere else. The dreams were not your own, at least not fully. Beyond this, they had no more revelations. Anything more was conjecture; one stated that if magick was involved, it was either massively strong, thus able to conceal its origin, or so fleeting and ephemeral that even the oneiromancers couldn't trace it.

Your father's concern waxed but mostly waned. Perhaps if you were the eldest crown prince instead of the middle one, the answer would have been willed into existence by his command. He simply asked that the oneiromancers track your condition and report any findings to him, but no more than once each week. Though dismayed that little was being done to solve this mystery, you were used to being far from priority. Even years ago when an attempt on your life left one of your legs still and unresponsive, a leg brace allowing you to stand at public appearances was issued and the problem was declared solved. You vividly remembered the look on the assassin's face when he realized he had accidentally struck third in the line of succession rather than first. His reaction was not dissimilar from your father's when you mentioned your dreams: a mildly amused but primarily disappointed visage. The spot where the dagger had pierced your spine no longer ached but your discontent was as raw and fresh as the day the realization struck.

With the oneiromancers essentially told to only report something unquestionably threatening to your life or the family's honor, you shared very little with them. Several times you had dismissed them with little more than a hand wave. None of them ever protested. To their knowledge, no new developments within these dreams came to light. It was just another little curiosity that came with the court.

To their knowledge, anyway. In truth, there had been a quite substantial development that you withheld from them.

The night air was cool and crisp. From your bedchamber's veranda, you let the gentle sound of the garden's fountains below soothe your nerves. This had become your regular nighttime ritual; your last chance to feel relaxed and cool before waking up overheated and frantic. You enjoyed the last of it before sliding under the sheets and waiting for the dream to visit you.

This was the clearest dream to date. The scattered sensations and feelings from prior episodes came into focus: the touches came from smooth, tender hands, the smell of lavender from purple cups of herbal tea. Your fingers played over short, filed horns. That bold aquamarine color like a burning emerald belonged to a pair of eyes, their pupils narrow and catlike. The overall plot of the dream remained unknown to you. What came next, however, was new. Very new.

A pair of hands caressed your body as whatever clothing you had dissolved into the air. Your mind reeled from the realization of what was happening, yet you were relaxed all the same. Though surprised, you didn't wish for it to stop. Even as the tender hands had you at their mercy, one playfully pinching a nipple as the other reached lower in between your legs, you welcomed their touch without knowing why. You just did. It felt right. The hand between your legs started confidently stroking your shaft; making you moan. Their touch was expertly coordinated as if they knew everything about you. Not long after, the building pressure within you was too much to bear, then...

"AMON!" You cried out, the name that had eluded you all those nights finally woven from syllables into a complete utterance. You were no longer dreaming, your own hands reflexively covering your mouth in a futile attempt to take back the exclamation. In the dead of night like this, you most certainly alerted someone.

"My Prince, are you alright?" Your chief courtier, Petra, had burst through your bedchamber door. Guards with polearms at the ready had her back.

"I'm alright," you caught your breath, "it's the dream again. No cause for alarm." As usual, you bore a sheen of sweat and your heart was thundering in your ears.

"You've never called out like that before," Petra noted, not yet dropping her guard.

"I called out?" You lied, wincing as you felt something viscid and slimy on your groin under your dressing gown. Deep embarrassment came to the forefront of your mind, your face helpless to hide it. "Bring me my washbasin, please," you quickly uttered.

"At once, my Prince." Petra left the room as the guards resumed their posts. You peeled back your dressing gown to inspect the damage by moonlight. It was worse than you thought. Undoubtedly this gown would have to be thrown out. You groaned, disappointed in your own body for betraying you like this.

"Your washbasin, Prince." Petra returned and you hurriedly covered yourself up again. The moonlight was too dim, or perhaps she pretended not to see, but she was soon at your bedside without pause, brandishing a sponge and towel.

"I can do this myself," you said, taking the implements from her. She looked at you with intent to interrogate.

"Prince, if there have been changes with your dreams, you must inform the oneiromancers."

"No need," you said, eager to fully clean yourself. "You are dismissed, Petra."

Petra held her tongue. Her eyes told you she only did so because she was eager to return to bed. When she departed your bedchamber and closed the door, you finally discarded the soiled gown and did your best to cleanse yourself of your nocturnal emission. You donned a new gown and welcomed an ordinary slumber.

When morning came, so did Petra and a bevy of assistant courtiers. From the accoutrements they wielded you identified them as the "fashion corps," your nickname for the hairdressers, wardrobers, clothiers, and makeup artists whose arrival portended a formal event you were required to attend. As the squad of aesthetes communicated amongst each other, Petra drew you a bath. While the tub filled, she came to your side and took your shoulder on hers to help you hobble into the bathing chamber.

"What's the occasion, Petra?" You unfolded a privacy screen, dividing your bathing chamber in half. As you stripped and entered the balmy water, you heard Petra pull up a chair on the other side of the screen.

"The biannual alliance gala, Prince."

"The alliance gala?" You asked. Your appearance had not been required at one for quite some time. "Why me?"

"Your father has requested that the entire court attend. From what I've heard, there is quite the number of fiefdoms and baronies joining the kingdom at this one."

"Grand." You sighed and resigned yourself into the water until it met your chin. You imagined the great hall of the palace, teeming with strangers from far-off lands all speaking in such meaningless platitudes that they needed alcohol in hand to tolerate it.

"If it makes you feel any better, Prince, most of the night depends on your elder brother and your father. You have the freedom to do whatever you like once your father's opening speech is concluded," Petra said with a mild tone.

It didn't make you feel better. Your father built a kingdom that, apparently, smaller domains were scrambling to join. Your elder brother was the crown prince with hordes of suitors seeking his heart. Even your elder sister, with no direct claim to the crown, was quite sought after. Then there was you, with permission to get as drunk as you like at the gala. You seriously considered exercising that privilege.

Your ruminations were interrupted by the clatter of hammered metal and leather straps from beyond the screen.

"I've got your brace ready, Prince. Let me know when you're dry," Petra said. You reluctantly finished scrubbing and soaping yourself before heaving your body onto the lip of the bath and toweling off. Sat there, damp with dripping hair and a towel round your waist, you permitted Petra to attach the brace to you. She respectfully averted her eyes as she affixed the contraption to your immobilized leg. With it attached, you traded comfort for the ability to limp and stand unassisted.

Next came the gauntlet of clothing, hair styling, and makeup that the fashion corps employed. Even for today, which was merely a rehearsal for the true event tomorrow, they gave no mercy. They encircled you and passed you around as they worked like a knight being suited by his squires. The process was grueling. Your hair was tugged and the breeches squeezed your brace into your leg. With the freedom to choose your own clothes removed from you, there was no choice but to deal with the feeling of metal biting at your skin.

Bound in the tight, ceremonial clothing, Petra took your arm for the long walk to the great hall. It was full of palace staff and buzzing like a beehive. The ceiling, high as a cathedral's, let in beams of sunlight through its many massive windows. Tables were being arranged with the intent to give each attending guest a view of the stage: the stage where your father and elder brother would be giving their opening speeches tomorrow. The two of them were behind a podium, your brother reading a piece of parchment over your father's shoulder. Behind them towards the back of the stage was a row of ornate seats; not quite thrones but just as uncomfortable. Your elder sister met your gaze as she sat on one. She beckoned you over.

"That will be your seat for the rehearsal, Prince," Petra said.

"Rehearsal for sitting?" You quipped, walking towards your seat anyway. Resistance was futile no matter how silly this all was.

"I'll undo your hair and get you into more comfortable clothes as soon as I can, Prince," Petra said apologetically. "Bear with it. I must attend to the other staff now."

With that, Petra disappeared into the crowd of scrambling staff arranging the great hall into order. You limped to your seat, your brace clicking all the while.

"You look excellent, little brother," your sister said. She was attempting to alleviate your sour mood, but she still hadn't figured out how. Neither had you.

"I look like an idiot. And my leg is killing me," you snapped.

Your sister merely sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her hair, in a high bun, bumped the bejeweled headrest and made her curse.

"You used to love these events when you were smaller. You had perfected waving to the crowd before you learned to talk," she said.

"That was a long time ago. Things were different; I was naive, none of us had official duties, the assassination attempt hadn't happened, I wasn't bedeviled by these dreams... mother was alive." You cast your gaze downward, examining your buckled leather shoes. You heard her sigh.

"Not all change has to be bad. And to be fair, you still don't have any official duties to worry about." She placed a hand on your shoulder.

"That's a polite way of saying I'm useless." You looked up at your father and elder brother. They were discussing something about their speeches, annotating and marking the parchment before them. A small audience of pages stood in front of the stage, listening to them run through portions of their speeches. They hadn't yet paid you any heed.

"It's a blunt way of saying you're free," your sister said firmly. "Every week I'm fielding suitors from all over the world, and not one of them has proven to be anything but repulsive. I'm terrified that one day strategy and diplomacy will land me with someone like them."

Your eyes widened at her open disdain for the matters of the court.

"I'm sorry," you said, reconstructing your vision of who your sister truly was. "I had no idea you felt that way... I thought—"

"You thought I was traipsing about with handsome men from far-off lands every day?" She smirked.

"...yes." You blushed.

"Hah! I wish!" Your sister flinched at her own exclamation, then relaxed when she realized the monarch and the crown prince hadn't noticed. "But you don't have to wish for that. You're free to traipse with whomever you please."

You blushed harder. Turning away from your sister, you saw your brother and father finishing up their speech revisions. On cue, Petra emerged from the throng of staff to conclude this "rehearsal."

"Looks like Petra's coming to get you," your sister noted. "I know you'll be free to retire to your bedchambers as soon as the speeches are over, but I want you to try and enjoy yourself tomorrow night. It's what I would do if I could." She gave you one final smile before getting up from her seat.

"I will," you said, finally cracking a tiny smile in return. Petra had your arm soon after.

"Your presence is no longer required, Prince." Petra helped you up. "Shall I take you back to your chambers?"

"Yes, please," you said, giving your sister a thankful glance. She returned a similar expression as Petra whisked you away.

When you had finally returned to your chambers and changed into less constrictive clothing, you asked Petra to stay awhile to converse. Your sister's advice had forced you to re-evaluate your approach to the gala. Your priorities had shifted just as much as your notions of her personality had.

"You mentioned there were many newcomers to the kingdom? Quite a few tables were being set up in the great hall," you quizzed Petra.

"Yes, from what I've gathered, it's expected to be the largest event we've hosted all year. We're expecting guests from as far as Ankara and Nubia," she answered matter-of-factly. Perhaps she was a little proud, too.

"Are there any specific guests I should know about?" You asked with the grace of a war elephant. Courtship had crossed your mind for the first time mere minutes ago. "Anyone of high repute?"

Petra picked up on your clumsy intent immediately. She knew you too well.

"Prince, it would be quicker to list the attendees not worth approaching than those with stellar accolades. If it were me..." she drew in air through her teeth as if expecting to be reprimanded, "I would consider tomorrow's gala an excellent time to court someone."

"I'll try to take that advice to heart, Petra," you said.

"I'm pleased, Prince. Your matters are your own, but if I may speak unequivocally..."

"Speak your mind." You gave her permission. She hesitated, then sighed.

"You strike me as lonely, Prince. Ever since the Queen passed, your social life has suffered." Petra paused again, considering her words carefully. "You deserve love of that measure once more, whether from a partner or a good friend."

"Thank you," you sighed as if she had given you permission to use your heart. "I appreciate the advice, Petra."

"Of course, Prince." She glanced out the window towards the setting sun. "I recommend you retire early tonight to be invigorated tomorrow, lest the dreams strike again."

You nodded.

"They will." You avoided her eyes as you remembered what happened last time. "Have a washbasin ready. For the, erm, sweat."

"Of course, Prince," Petra said, her face remaining unmoved. You didn't bother trying to discern whether she was oblivious to last night's gown-soiling or if she merely extended you the courtesy of pretending. "I'll leave you be. Get some rest."

You watched her exit your chambers without another word, finally exhaling the breath you held. The idea of having to clean yourself up again was hardly appealing. Standing on the veranda and enjoying the cool night air was only prolonging the inevitable.

The aforementioned inevitable reared its troublesome head as soon as you surrendered to sleep. Your consciousness materialized somewhere, a location unidentifiable but still more detailed than you had ever encountered before. You glimpsed kaleidoscopic carpets, hammered brass, and vines growing freely about the place.

"Welcome back." A man's voice like sweet honey floated through the warm air.

"I missed you." The words left your mouth without you knowing them. You were merely an observer to your own actions. "Amon."

"My sweet prince." Lips on your knuckles. The smell of lavender tea. "Tea?"

"No thanks. We must keep this quick," you uttered again, breathless and surrendering to a desire that was both yours and unknown to you.

"Tut, tut. What's gotten into you, my prince? I've never seen you so impatient," the voice teased. Your head spun.

"I need my energy," you gasped, something warm and wet lapping at your member. "For tomorrow." The ministrations paused.

"Of course. Tomorrow will be very special indeed." The tongue on your shaft resumed, making you squirm. You reached out into the nothingness, your fingers grasping at frayed carpet tassels. Your other hand reached in between your legs and found a head of hair. You grasped a smooth horn that curved neatly behind an ear. It bobbed up and down at a tantalizing pace.

"Amon, I... I shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't what?" Another pause in the pleasure. You caught your breath. Those eyes again, burning into yours with the hue of warm ocean waters. "Say no to me, my prince. I implore you to try."

Caught in the stare you were helpless. You quivered with need, your manhood twitching and drooling. Only a high whine left your lips.

"Thought so."

You shot up in bed, crying out and spasming. Once more you had spilled yourself into your gown, your entire body slick with sweat. As a small victory, your cries remained nondescript rather than referential to this "Amon." In the dream, you had felt a sweet warmth in your breast each time you spoke to him and even warmer when he responded. In your waking memory, this name was empty. There was no connection and no feeling of belonging. If you hadn't heard your own voice leave your mouth in the dream, you would have had no way of knowing those experiences were your own. Your dreaming memory and conscious recollection were severed, at odds with one another. What did he mean when he said tomorrow would be special? Did he know about the gala? You didn't know how much you knew.

"The washbasin, Prince," Petra uttered as she carried it into your chambers. She stowed it at your bedside. "Shall I leave you like before?"

"Yes, please... but would it trouble you to return afterward?"

"Not at all, Prince. I'll return at your word." She slipped out of the room. You took the opportunity to cleanse yourself of the evidence before permitting Petra to return.

“Petra, would it be possible to acquire a guest list for the gala?” You asked.

“Possible, yes. However, it will be quite long without any qualifiers. As I mentioned previously, this is one of the largest events of the year.”

You considered simply asking her if the name Amon was among the attendees, but Petra would likely alert the oneiromancers and in turn, your father. You doubted anything would happen at all if she did, but this was a matter you wanted to confront on your own. Like all other decisions made for you at your father’s behest, your own interests would unquestionably be cast aside if he decided to involve himself.

“I’d like to know the first names of all the male guests scheduled to attend,” you said. Petra raised an eyebrow.

“That doesn’t narrow it down much, Prince,” Petra answered. The sweet, honeyed voice from your dream remained in your mind. It was the voice of a young man, one likely of your age.

“Only the male guests around my age, then,” you specified. Petra raised her other eyebrow, making her expression one of surprise rather than skepticism.

“Ah. That kind of list. I see...” Your cheeks burned; though you didn’t know where this inquiry would take you, you also felt the conclusion Petra came to was not wholly inaccurate. “Shall I make, erm, other arrangements as well?”

“Arrangements?” you asked. It was Petra’s turn to blush.

“The standard things... extra pillows, oils, skins—”

“Yes, of course, Petra,” you cut her off, not wishing for her to extend the list of amenities any further. Searching for a suitor was a favorable charade. If nothing else, if this search for the mysterious Amon proved fruitless, then you would at least have the means, motive, and opportunity to bed somebody... if you had the audacity. The look on Petra's face said she didn't think so.

"I’ll have the list and the... goods brought in before sun-up,” Petra said. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, Petra, that will suffice.”

“Good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Morning arrived and so did Petra's promises; the chief courtier herself was nowhere to be found, but a neatly transcribed list of names and a box tied with a bow sat atop a chaise lounge when you awoke. You already knew what waited inside the box, so you went for the list. Though only containing the names of guests that fit your qualifiers, the parchment was both long and double-sided. Your eyes began to tire just as they fell across what you were looking for:

Amon II - Eparch of Nobatian Lower Makuria and Alodia

You were puzzled. Makuria and Elodia were names you hadn't heard since you were tutored. Even your father's kingdom with its diplomats venturing far and wide rarely mentioned them. You only knew they were small kingdoms far away from this one. There was not one but two oceans between here and there, they spoke a language no tutor in the palace taught, and both titles of "Nobatian" and "Eparch" were unknown to you.

Then the fashion corps arrived. You dropped the parchment and pondered the new information as they manhandled you into the appearance they had crafted for you yesterday. Perhaps due to more practiced hands or being lost in your thoughts, the process seemed to go much faster than previously. You almost didn't believe it when they told you they were finished, but the shifted sun and your appearance in the mirror confirmed that the gala would soon begin. Your hair was fashioned into an unnatural shape, your face was dusted with powder, and your clothes were so form-fitting that you appeared sewn into them. The bulge of the leg brace through your breeches peeked out at the ankle; the leggings were so tight that your overcoat preserved more of your modesty than they did.

With Petra absent and likely scrambling to put last-minute touches on the gala, you walked to the great hall with the assistance of the fashion corps, who likewise made hasty repairs to your appearance as your gait jostled things out of place. When you arrived, the great hall was even busier than at the rehearsal. It seemed there was a member of palace staff for each seat at every table, all of them fastidiously arranging cutlery, plates, decorative vases, placemats, and myriad other things you didn't know the names for.

“Little brother!” You turned your head and spotted your elder sister within a parade of her own fashion corps regiment. She waved at you from one of the great hall’s entrances.

“Sister,” you responded with a nod, your own cavalcade parting to allow her approach.

“Have you given tonight any consideration?” She asked.

“Yes, actually...”

“You’re not going to retreat to your chambers?”

“...not immediately,” you said, noncommittal.

“I’m glad.” She smiled gently. “I’ll likely be busy most of the night, though if you’d like me to send anyone your way, let me know. Who’s on your list?”

“My list?” you sputtered. “Petra told you?”

“Petra? Goodness, no,” she chuckled. “I just figured you’d have one. It’s standard practice for these sorts of things; I’ve a list as well. So... who’s on yours?”

You lowered your head and examined your shoes.

“Well... it’s quite long.”

“How scandalous!” she gasped exaggeratedly.

“I’m just casting a wide net is all! I don’t intend to bed every single male my age!” Your cheeks burned again. You considered dropping the charade if it meant this level of humiliation.

“I expected my mild little brother to have a rebellious phase eventually, but this...” she said, ignoring your cries.

"Sister, please," you pleaded. The tone of your voice convinced her to return to normal. She extended a hand to ruffle your hair but stopped herself when your fashion corps hairstylist glared at her.

"Apologies, little brother. I had to jest a little," she smiled at you, this time without intent to tease. "They're going to start letting in the guests soon. We should take our seats."

You nodded and followed her to the stage. The fashion corps fell away from you and went to help elsewhere. You sat in your uncomfortable pseudo-throne and waited, eventually joined by your other siblings save for your eldest brother. They greeted you as they took position at your side, but there was very little to talk about. This was the first time you had seen them in a while.

Then came the guests: the table-setters had cleared out some minutes before the floodgates burst and more staff escorted groups of people to their tables. The cathedral-like great hall was full in mere moments. Sorted by table, there was a sea of people in colorful finery all conversing amongst themselves and giving you and your siblings the occasional glance. You tried to pick out Amon from the crowd but quickly realized half-remembered fragments from your dreams wouldn't be enough to pick him from a sea of hundreds. Even finding his name on the list took a considerable amount of time.

Then the hall fell silent, or something close to it. A lively conversation between hundreds of people dropped to hushed whispers. Your father and brother had entered the hall and begun their walk to the podium, silencing the crowd with nothing but their appearance. When your father reached the podium, he extended both arms palms up and the previously subdued crowd erupted into cheers. If not for the applause, he would have heard you groan. Your sister said nothing, only giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

When the speeches started you practically willed your ears shut. Perhaps you would have built a tolerance to them if you had appeared at more of these events, but you couldn't bear to listen to your father and elder brother boast of their achievements to a sea of complacent, nodding heads. It was like a reminder that within the kingdom your father built, you served your purpose by distracting that assassin some years ago and now outlived your usefulness. At this gala, you were decoration only a few ranks higher than a potted plant.

You thanked any and all higher powers when the speeches were over. Father and his crown prince had left the stage to begin their targeted commingling with VIPs, prompting you and your siblings to stand from your seats. They all dispersed before you could look to them to follow their lead. When you stumbled off the stage and distanced yourself from it by leaning against the wall as you walked, hardly any attention came your way. Thankfully, the attention you did receive was from Petra.

"Prince, are you alright? You look troubled," she said, sidling up to you.

"What do I do, Petra?" you asked, intimidated by the sheer size of the room and the attendees within it. Each table was like its own little kingdom with strangers you didn't know and faux-pas to stumble over.

"See how each table has an empty chair or two?" She pointed to the tables nearest you, one full of scaly Sāmm-abraṣ emissaries and another with human diplomats bearing the flag of Bavaria. You nodded. "All the guests are expected to stay seated while dinner is served. They won't get up to dance and drink until the meal is concluded. Right now, only people from the host kingdom— like you, me, your siblings, and other members of the court— will be walking around."

"So I just sit at whichever table and introduce myself?"

"If you even need to. The fact you're walking will show them you're hosting. They'll pay you proper respect without you saying anything at all."

"Hm," you mused. That sounded like a lot of work, especially since you weren't aiming to meander. Finding Amon would be immeasurably more difficult once the crowd was disorganized and inebriated, though, so now was your best chance.

"I've a copy of your list, Prince. Shall I help you navigate it?" Petra asked, holding up parchment.

"Yes, let's," you said. The lengthy document threatened to touch the floor. "Let's begin alphabetically."

"Alphabetically, Prince?"

"By first name."

"Of course, Prince. That means we should visit Aariyeh, Sardar of Anatolia, followed by Abdul II, Knez of Smederevo—"

"Any Eparchs on that list?" You winced at your own forwardness. The charade was wearing dangerously thin.

"...Eparchs?"

"I'm in an Eparch mood at the moment," you explained weakly. Petra looked at you as if checking for signs of illness.

"I see. There's one: Amon II of Nobatian Lower Makuria and Alodia."

"He sounds splendid. Take me to him."

Petra, either from exasperation, deference, or both, folded up the list and took your arm without another word. She led you through the clusters of gala attendees. You could feel every one of their eyes watching you as you caught their attention. Just as the scrutiny was starting to become too much, your eyes found a target of their own. A warm shiver ran through your spine, a sensation the French would call déjà rêvé: a dream made real.

His verdigris eyes locked onto yours. They peered at you from behind short, white curls of shiny hair. His skin reminded you of the bluebells in the gardens, and his pert, curled horns were a shade darker. He flashed something between a grin and a smirk at you, revealing pearlescent teeth with canines that could be mistaken for fangs.

Amon was breathtaking and he knew it.

If your arm wasn't in Petra's grasp already, you never would have made it to the chair. She struggled a bit as she plopped you into it, your leg brace protesting with clicks and creaks. The other tieflings at the table, all varying shades of azure, stopped what they were doing to acknowledge your arrival. You gave them a weak nod while you regained your composure.

"Greetings, delegation from Lower Makuria and Elodia. I'd like to introduce you to our Middle Prince," Petra said from over your shoulder, upon which she planted a firm hand. She squeezed hard.

"I'm pleased to meet you all," you managed to get out. Your audience of tieflings nodded and muttered.

"As am I, Middle Prince." Amon set his cutlery down and rested his chin on interlaced fingers. His voice was high and carried a boyish, scheming air; you envisioned him stealing lumps of sugar from a pantry. "I didn't think my kingdom warranted such a visit. What brings you to my little exclave of Nobatia?"

"A whim."

"How quaint," he said, still smirking. His gaze shifted as he eyed his all-tiefling entourage. The intent was to communicate something, though you didn't know what.

"I am the middle prince, after all. I've few obligations. None, actually," you said.

"Hm," Amon said, looking decidedly amused. "We may have more in common than we thought." His retinue nodded along with his observation.

"Surely you are a busy man? You are Eparch of not one, but two territories."

"Do you know what the title 'Eparch' entails, Middle Prince?" Amon said, more as a targeted quip than an actual question.

"I... am not familiar, I admit," you ceded.

"An Eparch is a figurehead. Makuria and Alodia have long been ruled by invaders and rebels, respectively. I'm kept in a symbolic position to preserve what's left of Nobatian culture," Amon sighed. "In fact, I was sent here in place of the true rulers since they thought it so unlikely that you would have anything important to say to us. Anything other than absorbing us into your hegemony, of course."

You averted your gaze. He clearly was not happy with his status, and while his discontent wasn't targeted at you, it hovered about him like a cloud. He picked at the remainder of his meal while the cloud dissipated and you plucked a topic from the clearing air.

"How was your journey here? You've come a long way," you said.

"It was pleasant enough. Your trains and... horseless carriages are quite impressive," Amon said, pausing. "What's your name for them again?"

"Automobiles," you answered.

"Yes, automobiles." He rolled the word in his mouth as if tasting wine. "Though you have such a fine river and only use it for cargo. A felucca would have made my journey quite enjoyable."

"A felucca?"

"Ah, it's my turn to inform you." Amon smiled. "A felucca is a sailboat we use on the Nile. It's built for comfort, with carpets instead of hardwood decks. Some even come with a kitchen, and it's unheard of to sail without finishing a pot of tea."

"It sounds lovely," you said. "Lavender tea, I hope."

Amon raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, my favorite," he looked amused. "How did you know?"

"A whim," you answered. "The same one that brought me over to your table."

"I see." His eyes locked with yours for a lengthy pause. His retinue shifted in their seats at the uncomfortable silence. He was thinking hard about something, but the subject of his thoughts remained unknown to you. If he truly shared the dreams with you, surely you must have gotten the point across by now?

"It was lovely chatting with you, Middle Prince." He broke the silence and straightened his posture. "But I would hate to keep you when you have other guests to see."

"I really don't—"

"Nonsense, my prince," he interrupted, "go on and mingle. Perhaps, if we're lucky, our paths will cross when the festivities begin in earnest."

You couldn't believe your eyes. Did he wink at you?

"Of course..." you said, slowly realizing he was scheming. "Enjoy the gala." He locked eyes with you again.

"Oh, we will."

You had resumed hovering with Petra on the edges of the great hall. More staff had filed in to take away dirty dishes and the remains of the guests' meals. The dance floor had been opened, the musicians were in position, and staff bearing silver trays readied drinks for the merry and hors d'oeuvres for the peckish.

"How was your visit with the Eparch?" Petra asked.

"Enlightening," you answered cryptically. The need for secrecy hadn't passed, but now you were unsure of what charade to uphold. You only knew Amon was in on it as well.

"I trust that means it went well?"

"Yes, I think so." You scanned the crowd of attendees, which had now gotten up from their seats and begun to mix and intermingle. Amon disappeared like an ace into a shuffled deck. Petra flashed you an impatient expression.

"Prince, do you want me to help you get with him or not?" She said with folded arms.

"Petra!" You gasped. "You're rather forward."

"It's quite literally my job to make sure you end up with him if you wish it, Prince," she assumed a stern tone as if you refused your vegetables. "Give me a yes or no."

You stewed under her gaze. It seemed the pressure and time-sensitive nature of the gala had started to affect her as well, though for different reasons to you.

"Yes." You muttered. She didn't ask for confirmation, instead slipping away into the crowd with nothing more than a nod. Was this part of the charade, still? You had no idea what Amon even wanted, or frankly, what you wanted from tonight.

The musicians started and the small groups that had formed on the edge of the dance floor produced couplets of dancers. They were eager to begin the waltz, a somewhat contentious dance that had only recently come into popularity. You hadn't been practiced in it, instead learning of court dances like the cotillion. As you watched it take place, the dancers seemed awfully close. They were practically pressed against one another!

While you tried to discern the intricacies of this new style of dance before you, that familiar azure face peeked at you from the crowd. Amon smiled and raised his drink in your direction. It was a small gesture but you were helpless to do anything other than join him. Before you knew it, you were at his side in the sea of people and some sort of libation had been thrust into your hand.

"You know, I'm starting to grow partial to this stuff," Amon said, sipping on a duplicate of the drink you held.

"I was under the impression your faith disallowed the consumption of alcohol," you said, watching him finish the glass.

"An easy mistake to make." He handed off the glass to a roving staff member. "Modern Makurians and Alodians don't drink. Nobatians like me do. It's one of the holdovers of my dead culture."

You looked at the glass in hand; it was a clear, cold drink with a slice of lime. As you expected, the taste was bitter and unwelcoming.

"You like gin?" You asked, one taste enough to identify it.

"As I said, it's starting to grow on me," Amon chuckled. "It's not good enough to stop me from missing home, but it'll get me through the night."

"Speaking of home..." you started, looking around. You were unable to spot any other blue-skinned tieflings in the crowd. "where has your retinue gone?"

"I told them to enjoy themselves. As my courtiers, that means they're likely hovering by the exit, waiting to escort me out of here when I leave."

"They seem like a serious bunch."

"They're overprotective," Amon hissed. "As I said, my culture is long dead. They see it as dying. They think they can save it by putting me in a glass case for future generations to study."

"You've given up on Nobatia?"

"Pah! Of course I have!" He deftly procured another drink from a passing waiter. "Nothing will bring the old country back. Nobatia is a minuscule region; I can say with certainty I'm the youngest one left. When I'm old and infirm, Makuria and Alodia will reject the idea of a royal family entirely and I'll finally be allowed to be forgotten."

"That's quite a bleak outlook, Eparch," you gently chided. "Perhaps in war, things would be on a fixed course, but matters of diplomacy are more malleable."

"Perhaps," Amon said, sipping his gin. "But that's enough about me. I'd like to know more about you."

His eyes looked into yours as if he would magick the information he wanted straight out of you. No incantations were uttered, though, and you took a pragmatic sip of gin to fill the pause.

"What would you like to know?" You said.

"I'd like to know about this 'whimsy' you have," Amon probed. "To be frank, my prince, I expected to be out the door by now. Instead, I'm here, conversing with you. It doesn't make sense."

You finished your gin. This was as good a time as any to explain yourself.

"What do you know of oneiromancy?" The question left your lips and slapped Amon across the face. He chuckled.

"The school of magick so vague and unmeasurable it's not even officially recognized?"

"It seems you know the same as most," you said. "Oneiromancy is real. At least, real enough to give me the same dream night after night."

"I see..." Amon was mulling something over.

"In each one of these dreams, though my waking memory is hazy, I remember one thing they all had in common." You took a deep breath. "You."

"We should discuss this in private," Amon interjected, gently brushing your hand against his. You had been so caught up with telling Amon that you forgot you were in the middle of a crowded gala. Concern crept into the corners of his face. "Do you have a place we can go?"

You nodded and grasped his hand in earnest. The spot you took him to was one of the many balconies that overlooked the palace gardens. The sun had set fully at this point, and waltz music lazily floated out of the great hall. A few revelers who had over-indulged caught the fresh air in the hedges below. You and Amon rested on the cool marble balustrade, momentarily admiring the mingling of crickets, music, distant conversation, and the night air.

"I've been having the dreams as well. All of them involving you in some... capacity. I wasn't sure it was you at first. The dreams were so vague..." Amon kept his gaze fixed on the gardens below.

"Were the dreams... um, did you wake up... well..." you stammered. He looked at you knowingly.

"Yes, a few times," Amon answered. He didn't seem nearly as embarrassed as you. "You suspect oneiromancy is at play?"

"The court oneiromancers determined the dreams are being intentionally created. They're not a coincidence."

"Court oneiromancers?" Amon nearly spat out his drink. "My, you do have everything in this kingdom."

"Yes, we have court oneiromancers, but your surprise is beside the point." You had finally found the mysterious Amon, and you didn't want to waste any time on tangents. "Surely you're just as curious as I? Do you know anything about these dreams?" Amon drained the remainder of his gin in response.

"When I was a child..." He paused and shook his head. "When I was a child, my mother told me folk tales. The standard stuff: damsels in distress, slaying horrific beasts, that sort of thing. But she also told me tales of lovers who met in dreams. She said that was how she and father met."

"Something tells me you don't believe in that."

"When I grew too old for fairy tales, I saw it as her way of helping me keep hope that the one would be out there. With Nobatia falling and no suitors left..." he trailed off, setting his empty glass on the balustrade.

"So what if she's right?"

"That's a rather large 'if,' my prince. She was the only one that believed in that stuff... Aside from an uncle who would tell more dreamers-to-lovers tales, but only after drinking too much boukha, and always with a sarcastic tongue. They're just that: tales."

You felt Amon's cloud of discontent precipitate once more. His words were scathing, but not towards you; they spoke to a painful past and familiarity with disappointment. He saw something hopeful, happy, and promising, then cast it down in order to never feel the pain of losing it. You rarely had such clear insights about people, but with Amon it was different. It was as if you had known him for a long time and learned the language spoken by his brow, posture, and eyes. You knew what you had to do.

"Amon," you sighed, placing a hand on his, "even fairy tales originate from some truth, even if only a little. Don't be afraid to entertain the notion that your mother might be right."

You tried to look him in the eyes, but he cast his gaze down to the gardens below. His quick tongue failed him and silence ensued. His hand had reluctantly surrendered itself to your grasp, resting warm and limp.

"Look at me," You commanded with a firmer tone than expected. Reluctantly, he swiveled towards you and his aquamarine eyes found their way to yours. "Think about what you truly want. Don't be afraid to take it."

He swallowed. After a pause of a few heartbeats, his free hand grasped the back of your head, entwined his fingers in your hair, and pressed your lips to his. Your hand that held his grasped even tighter. The two of you were entwined in your own scandalous waltz. You could feel his hunger just as clearly as you felt his discontent when he parted your lips with his tongue. You reciprocated, catching fleeting impressions of his sharp teeth. He tasted like gin and figs. Short, passionate gasps and moans escaped the two of you and joined the chorus of crickets. You pulled away only to catch your breath.

"Amon," you gasped, his name sweet on your tongue. He looked at you with a bewildered expression and flushed navy cheeks. Neither of you could believe what just happened, yet surprise gave way to familiarity. Kissing Amon made your heart race but your shoulders relax. Being breathless and panting in his embrace was as recognizable to you as Petra's morning wake-up calls, or the smell of the gardens, or the feeling of your bedchamber floor on your bare feet. Déjà rêvé.

"I..." Amon sighed, "I shouldn't. I've had too much gin. I've been foolish." He released you from his arms and took several steps backward. Your jaw hung agape as he jogged inside and disappeared from view. Too shocked to try to catch him, you remained outside and alone on the balcony with only the sound of crickets and distant strings to keep you company. Just as silently and perceptively as a cat, Petra crept from the doorway a short while later.

"I saw Amon run away and came to check on you." She looked at your expression and reciprocated with a downtrodden look of her own. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know. Probably not." You sighed and buried your face in your elbows until all you could see was the balustrade. You sensed Petra take a few steps towards you.

"What happened?" She asked delicately.

"We kissed, passionately. Then he said he was foolish and ran away," you mumbled into your self-embracing arms. Petra rested a hand on your shoulder.

"Some people just can't handle the fast pace and the pressure at galas like this. I'm sure it wasn't personal."

"I know..." you sighed. To Petra, your attempts at flirting simply failed to land. She didn't see the dreams. She didn't see the look in his eyes. She didn't hear the fear of hope in his voice. There were not enough hours in the night to explain to her the true extent of your sorrows.

"There's always tomorrow, Prince."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tonight is only for the Gala," Petra explained, her tender tone turning slightly optimistic, "anyone attending will be staying at least until tomorrow night for the treaty signing."

"So Amon is still here, then?" you asked, finally pulling your forehead from its resting place on your folded arms.

"He was likely running to the guest wing of the palace, where all the other dignitaries will be. If you truly wish to meet with him again, breakfast tomorrow morning would be an excellent opportunity."

You considered things for a moment. If Amon were to stay one more night, then that was one more dream to share. Tonight, you and Amon would spring awake in bed at the same time after another shared dream, but he would be only a few corridors away.

"Petra, get me an oneiromancer." You commanded.

"An oneiromancer? At this time of night? They're probably attending the gala with the rest of the court."

"Petra, this is important," you said. "I haven't exactly been forthcoming about everything in these recent days, and I'm sorry for that... but I need an oneiromancer before I sleep tonight. If you can do this for me, I promise to explain everything soon."

Petra looked at you silently, deciding whether or not to press you for details now rather than later contingent on your promise. She chose the former, nodding and silently fast-walking inside.

Alone once more on the balcony, you leaned on the balustrade and studied the stars. The moon's halo of illuminated night sky was the same color as Amon's lips. With any luck, you'd be seeing them again soon in tonight's dream.

#exophilia #monster x reader #monster x human #romance #male reader #tiefling #male tiefling x male reader #monster love #mlm #monster romance #monster fic #mlm romance

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

Text

statistically significant | 1 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

note: I cannot overemphasize that this interpretation of Bakugou is based on season 1 Bakugou, which means he behaves very questionably at the beginning. Please heed the warnings!

Last year

You had been ferreting snacks out of the Hero Awards when he found you.

In retrospect, the whole idea of attending the Hero Awards had been a bad one from the get go. You’d just been so thrilled by the image of it in your head--getting to see all your favorite pros gathered in one place, dressed to the nines, celebrating their rankings, their wins, their saves, their successes. You’d pictured yourself flitting between heroes, collecting autographs and taking selfies, sitting down at a table with big names like Uravity and Froppy, making fast friends over the complimentary champagne.

But then you’d seen what really went into preparing for and attending an event like this, and the shine had quickly rubbed off.

When your boss at the Commission had extended you the invite, she’d told you that you would be representing the organization, and had advised you to contract a makeup artist and find someone willing to dress you. Her tone had strongly implied that this was more of an order than a suggestion. So you’d done it, but nobody had told you exactly how many hours went into getting your makeup tested, getting fitted and refitted for a dress, and fielding questions on cut, colors, fabrics, and fit.

By the time the Awards rolled around, you’d lost upwards of forty excruciating hours of your life to preparations, and had developed some kind of anxiety-induced Pavlovian response to the modiste’s name on your phone screen, where you immediately wanted to leap into the nearest storage closet and hide. And none of this was even counting the five full hours you spent on the day of the awards getting primped and polished within an inch of your life, then stuffed into some ridiculous scrap of fabric that threatened to fall off of you if you so much as breathed wrong.

By the time the stylists and makeup artist had finished with you, you were starved, cranky, and nursing a small migraine from how enthusiastic the hairdresser had been with you. You’d thought, though, that you would finally be able to enjoy yourself now that the worst was over. All there was left was to attend the ceremony, and get to see all your favorite heroes.

And for an hour or two, the Hero Awards had been just as cool as expected. You lingered on the fringes of the red carpet, gawking as pros like Chargebolt and Pinky swanned their way down the walkway, looking even cooler in real life than they looked on TV. Everyone had clearly gone all out, and they looked unbelievably good, either inhumanly beautiful or inhumanly intimidating. You had been utterly transfixed, as evidenced by the inordinate amount of time you spent accidentally staring at Todoroki Shouto as he gave an interview to the side of the walkway, looking absolutely unreal as he leaned over to speak to the reporter.

When you’d finally managed to snap out of your trance, you’d remembered to cut a beeline for the snack table, and had set about stuffing as many snacks into your dress as you could manage. And that’s where the trouble really started.

The invite to the Awards had come with the option for a very fancy multi-course dinner that you could have chosen. Instead, you’d taken one look at the price and laughed yourself sick, before resolving to sneak a bunch of the free snacks into your dress to keep you occupied during the ceremony. The problem was, the scrap of fabric the modiste had insisted was a dress was so obnoxiously flimsy and could only hold so many snacks.

If your dress had been able to hold a reasonable number of snacks, you wouldn’t have needed to sneak back out to the snack table during the presentation, and he would have never had a chance to catch you on your own. But the dress was lacking snack utility, and so you had gone back out for more.

You kept low in the aisle as you crept out of the darkened theater, keeping a hand over your chest so you didn’t spill out of the thin fabric of your dress, and emerged into the reception hall, where you were almost blinded by the harsh light. You stood for a minute, blinking the spots out of your vision, and touched a hand to your eyes, careful not to smear any of your eyeliner.

And that’s when he struck.

Almost as soon as you raised your hand, a rough hand seized your wrist, wrenching your arm down. A heavy arm went around you quickly, trapping both your arms to your sides, and you barely had time to let out a squeak before a calloused hand clapped over your mouth. Your feet left the floor, and then you were being dragged through a side door into the stairwell.

You twisted wildly, kicking out, trying to catch the wall or the railing to push off of and throw your assailant off balance, but he was strong, and clearly well-versed in combat, as he kept you well away from anything you could use to your advantage. He hauled you out into the stairwell, but instead of heading down the stairs, he moved towards the corner. To your surprise, he tossed you unceremoniously against the wall, letting you go.

You caught yourself on the rough stone and whirled around, only to reel back in shock when you caught sight of your assailant.

Bakugou Katsuki, perhaps better known as pro hero Ground Zero, leaned over you, trapping you against the wall with an arm on either side of you. He, like all the other heroes you’d caught sight of today, looked almost unreal in person, but in stark contrast to all the others, his handsome face was twisted up in unmistakeable fury, blood-red eyes bright with violence and white teeth bared in a silent snarl. Even under the thick fabric of his suit, you could see the hard lines of his body were taught with aggression, and it was all you could do to not shrink back against the cold stone of the wall.

“So,” he snarled, leaning in to put his face close to yours, “you’re the fucking statistics nerd.”

You gaped at him, mouth falling open. Your professional title was data scientist, but statistics nerd was a close enough descriptor that you could tell he knew who you were. Your brows went up, wondering why in the world Ground Zero knew you.

“E-excuse me?” you managed. Your brain rapidly kicked into high gear, running through possible reasons why he would know you, what he could possibly want with you.

Bakugou snarled. “What the fuck is your problem with me?”

You stared at him. Problem with him? Other than the fact that he’d just seized you with no warning and dragged you into a stairwell, you had no problem with him. You’d never even met him--what the hell was he talking about?

“Uh, do you maybe have me confused with someone else?” you asked, trying to shift out from under his arm. Maybe there was another data scientist milling around in the crowds that he’d meant to get his hands on instead.

Bakugou’s red eyes narrowed, and he put a hand to your abdomen to press you firmly back to the wall. “Oh no. You’re not getting out of this, you little brat. Fucking fix it.”

You eyed him warily, checking him for signs of a head injury, wandering over his shock of blonde hair and noting the size of his pupils. Maybe Bakugou had been out on assignment just before the Awards, and hadn’t stopped to get his injuries checked out before coming here. A blow to the head would explain why he was behaving so strangely, and asking for weird stuff.

“Fix what?” you asked, frowning when you couldn’t spot the signs of a concussion on him. His gaze seemed all too focused, all too intent. It was nerve-wracking, actually. You’d heard of his reputation for intensity before, but it was one thing to hear it and another entirely to have all that intensity trained on you.

Bakugou bared his teeth and leaned closer. “Your fucking nerd-ass model. Fix it.”

You froze.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh, this was about the model. You knew his bone to pick with the model.

The entire reason you’d received an invite to the Hero Awards in the first place was because of your work on the model that calculated the hero rankings. The model had existed for years before you had come along, but this year it was different.

You’d been hired a couple months ago by the Public Safety Hero Commission after you’d contacted them with an idea on how to finally calculate the value of field assists. You’d had a rough prototype of a neural network that you’d trained on video of multi-hero operations, tracking the movements of all the heroes on screen, and had developed an algorithm capable of assigning point values to moves that contributed to but did not directly result in a win or a rescue.

The Commission couldn’t get their hands on your work fast enough, and after only a few months refining your neural net, it was hooked into the rankings model, and it had informed not only the choices for Rescue of the Year and Most Valuable Hero this year, but had entirely changed the hero rankings overall.

And Bakugou’s ranking had been very much affected.

Bakugou Katsuki was a hero very unlike the world had ever seen. Anyone could see from his stats alone that he was incredibly driven, supremely powerful, and almost unmatched by any other hero out there. A few years out from UA, he’d already entered the top ten and had been mere breaths away from the top three -- that is, until your model results had been released.

The thing about Bakugou was that he had a higher percentage of fight wins than any hero in recorded history. He came out on top of almost any situation he entered into, and had one of the highest villain capture stats and the highest villain kill stat as compared to any other hero at this point in their career. The problem was, the new model also now took into account assists, as well as applied slightly heavier weights to rescues, and as good as Bakugou was at winning fights, he was almost equally as terrible at helping others.

So when your model had been worked into the Hero Commission’s official ranking calculations, Bakugou had backslid to sit unhappily at rank number eight.

And apparently, he thought this meant you had a personal grudge.

“Okay, I understand you’re upset, but the results are the results,” you said, watching him carefully. “It’s got nothing to do with you personally.”

His expression darkened thunderously, and the hand on your abdomen grew notably hotter, a scent like gunpowder and burnt sugar rising in the stairwell. “Like hell it doesn’t. Fucking fix it.”

Your brow furrowed. How did regular people think models worked? “There’s no ‘fixing it’, Bakugou. That’s just how math works. If you have a problem with how assists and rescues are weighted then you can take it up with the Commission. I just trained the model with their recommendations, and the results are what they are.”

Bakugou apparently registered none of what you were saying. Rough fingers slid to your jaw, tipping your face up to him. “What is it that you wanted, you damn brat? Did you want to see me humiliated? Or maybe you wanted my attention?” His fingers dug into your jaw. “Well now you have it, you fucking harpy, so show me what you wanted with it.”

You gaped at him, unable to help the way your mouth hung open like a fish. Did he think you were blackmailing him? With a fucking statistical model? It was a matter of public record that Bakugou was smart--he was purportedly one of the brightest minds that had ever graced the profession of hero, with strategic skill and combat sense that was utterly unparalleled--so then why the hell was he being so dumb about this? Was he really so self-absorbed that he thought this whole thing was about him?

Your temper flared, rising like the slow heat that was building under his hands. “I know this might be news to you,” you said slowly, “but not everything is about you. The model I trained takes in video as its input, and calculates rankings based on recommended weighting criteria that the Hero Commission gave me themselves. There is no place for me to input my own biases or change the results, so if the output is something that you’re ashamed of, then maybe you should do better.”

Bakugou’s eyes brightened, narrowing on you with an intensity that made you want to curl into the wall. “Say that again, you little fuck.”

You held your ground, ignoring the dangerous way the scent of hot smoke sharpened, leaning forward to bare your own teeth. “Maybe you should do better, you self-centered asshole.”

You were close enough that you could see his pupils dilate with the challenge, like a predator catching sight of its prey. An unsettling grin made its way across his mouth. “I am going to make you wish you’d never even seen a calculator, you smug fucking nerd,” he said, leaning into you.

The scent of gunpowder burned in the back of your throat, and the hands on you flared alarmingly hot, before the door to the hall burst open, and a whirlwind of red and yellow tore into the stairwell.

“Heya Blasty,” a voice chirped, echoing on the stairs, “Found ya.”

The shock of golden yellow resolved itself into the lean figure of Kaminari Denki, aka pro hero Chargebolt. He quickly made his way to Bakugou’s side, seizing an elbow.

“I’m busy, fuckstick. Fuck off,” Bakugou growled.

A large hand reached over Bakugou’s other shoulder to pull him off you, a head of gelled red spikes materializing behind his back, and you blinked up at Kirishima Eijirou, also known as Red Riot.

“Sorry about him,” Kirishima smiled down at you warmly, in direct contrast to the way his fingers dug into Bakugou’s shoulder. His teeth looked incredibly sharp in person, but this fact somehow failed to detract from the warmth of his friendly expression. You blinked, stunned that you were being addressed by Red Riot.

“He’s been a little worked up since the results were released, but he’s harmless,” Kirishima explained, grunting a little as he jerked Bakugou away from you. Bakugou snarled and turned to his friend, a small volley of sparks lighting off of his palm.

“I said fuck off,” he growled.

You let out a choked laugh at the idea of Bakugou Katsuki being called harmless. Just this week he’d perfected a technique where he melted clean through concrete, and you’d seen the replay of him liquifying the side of a skyscraper on the news this morning as you’d been getting your makeup done.

“Harmless, right. Definitely felt that way,” you uttered as Kirishima struggled to get a grip on Bakugou.

“I’ll fucking show you harmless,” Bakugou spat, turning back to you, sparks crackling louder in his palm. Kirishima seized his chance quickly, getting a bulky arm around Bakugou’s chest and lifting him straight off the ground. Bakugou snarled and gripped Kirishima’s forearm, letting off an explosion that would have blown anyone else’s arm clean off, but Kirishima just laughed, ignoring that the sleeve of his suit had caught fire, and hauled Bakugou back through the door.

A litany of swears filtered back through the door before it swung shut again.

Kaminari turned to face you, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry about that. We didn’t realize he was gonna come after you like that, though I don’t think he would have actually done anything. He’s pretty much all talk.”

You waved a hand, still stunned that Chargebolt was speaking to you.

“Uh, it’s okay,” you said. “I just...didn’t expect that kind of a reaction.”

Kaminari chuckled. “He’s usually a little more chill these days--I think he’s just pissed he’s losing to Midoriya now.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “I gotta say, though, he was even more worked up than I expected when we got here. What did you say to him?”

You grimaced, thinking back on the tense conversation. “That if he was ashamed of his ranking, he should do better.”

Kaminari choked. “Oh fuck, he must have been pissed,” he managed, before dissolving into peals of laughter. “Do better. No wonder he looked like he was gonna give himself a hernia. Mina’s gonna wet herself when I tell her.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “He thinks I altered the results to get his attention.”

Kaminari’s chuckles tapered off as he set a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Oh, he’s just saying that. He knows he’s shit at assists. He’s just salty he’s actually gotta do something about it if he wants to be number one.”

You thought back to the feeling of that hard body pressing you up against the wall, the disdain that had twisted his handsome face, the burning heat that had built up under his palms. A shiver went down your spine. It had seemed like he was a little more than salty, but if that’s how his friend wanted to put it, then fine.

“Well, thanks for the save anyway,” you said, giving Kaminari a little smile. “I’d definitely give you and Kirishima Rescue of the Year if I was pre-determining my results.”

Kaminari laughed, turning back to the door that Kirishima had dragged Bakugou through. As if on cue, a small boom sent the door swinging open a little. “Speaking of which, I’d better get back to make sure I don’t have to rescue the rescuer.”

He gave you a casual wave, then crossed to the door quickly. He hesitated at the threshold, then peeked back over his shoulder at you.

“By the way,” he said. “You might want to take a look at your dress. I, um, think Bakugou may have gotten a little carried away.”

He disappeared before you could ask what he meant, but a quick glance down clarified soon enough. Right on your abdomen, where Bakugou had pinned you against the wall, lay a scorched cut out, exactly in the shape of one large hand.

Your mouth dropped open in horror.

That fucking dick.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #tw threats #tw gendered violence

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pillow-anime-talk · 3 years

Text

mistletoe. {pt.2}

synopsis: Killing cursed spirits with Satoru, winter prom with Metori and sincere conversation with Juuzou.

# tags: scenarios; christmas!au; current relationships & crush culture; romance; fluff; a bit of angst; sfw

includes: female reader ft. satoru gojou {jjk} + metori saiko {saiki k. no psi nan} + juuzou suzuya {tokyo ghoul}

part one {click}

— SATORU

“... Y/N-chan, on the left!”

“... Hey, hey! Look up, sweetheart!”

“... Oi! Behind you!”

“... Behind you too! Kick their asses, Satoru~!”

“... YEAH! Here’s my super strong girl!”

You two have been in the forest; for over twenty minutes you dealing with killing smaller or larger curses that frightened mushroom pickers or wild animals. You had a lot of fun doing it, all the time competing to see who killed more evil creatures. Of course, your boyfriend was winning so far, by three, but how could you know that some of them would come out of the forest litter, literally letting the white-haired man kill them all in a few seconds? Well, but at least you killed about twelve curses yourself, and that was a really nice result.

On the one hand, you enjoyed spending time with Gojou like that, because it was very rare for the two of you to be together on a mission, but on the other hand... It was the time of Christmas that you wanted to spend in your own home, surrounded by delicious food and desserts, hot wine or beer, loved ones, including your boyfriend’s cute students or your mutual friends. From a long time, that is, from the moment you became a sorcerer, you didn’t spend any holidays, birthdays or anniversaries as you would like. There was simply no time and energy for it because every day, apart from some Sundays, you worked to make life better for vulnerable people. It wasn’t a bad job, but sometimes... when you looking at ‘normal’ couples you envied their ignorance to the fact that some evil had appeared around them. You envied them that they could spend their free time together doing stupid things or relaxing in front of the TV.

So you sighed softly, raising the hand in which you held the small pocket knife. Small as your anti-curse tool was, it was also extremely effective and dangerous. Therefore, you cut the throat of one of the evil souls without any problems, thus defeating the last enemy.

“Ahhhh. Finally...! You’re not hurt, baby?” The young man said in a cheerful voice, and you shook your head in disapproval. Second later, you cleaned the little knife and then, hid it in one of the pockets of your black pants. “Would you like to get some hot chocolate and cake?”

“Huh? Have we finished all our work for today?” You asked in surprise, and the man just bit his lip with joy, putting his finger to his mouth after a while.

“Yes, although you forgot one thing, love.” You raised an eyebrow at his amused words. However, Satoru quickly got rid of your unawareness as soon as he raised his right hand and pointed at something above with his index finger. For a moment you were sure that he meant a curse that hadn’t been killed before, but as it turned out, it was mistletoe growing on one of the tall trees; you were surprised that during the fight he was able to additionally notice a small, green plant. Anyway, you just chuckled lightly as you stood on your tiptoes and tugged at the twenty-eight-year-old by his jacket.

You were happy that at least this one, very sweet Christmas moment could happen to you during the winter season. Thanks to this, these holidays weren’t so bad and devoid of spirit.

— METORI

Every year there was a winter prom at your school; it was the third time for you, while for Saiko, who only joined your class this year, it was something new. Of course, he was skeptical about it from the start and generally discouraged by the very idea of spending time with all PK Academy students, classmates and teachers. That’s why he immediately told you that if you want to go to the prom, he can arrange whatever prom you want; he literally said if you wanted Beyoncé he could call her.

But you just smiled warmly and said that school party is enough for you and you really like it. So he couldn’t refuse you... after all, the gray-haired young boy had a huge, indescribable weakness for you. Plus, even though you’ve been dating for a few weeks, Metori still couldn’t understand how... gentle and simple you were. You weren’t interested in luxury, his money, where his father worked. Instead, you asked every day if he had breakfast, if he would like to go for a walk with you, if he would like to come to you for dinner because your mother cooked a delicious Mexican dish. It was something new and nice for a teenager who had grown up in prosperity and splendor throughout his life. It didn’t bother him, but the prom... it was quite strange and mysterious. But he agreed, so he couldn’t take his words back because he didn’t want you to get sad or disappointed.

Thus, he bought a new, well-fitting and expensive suit – one that would fit perfectly with your delicate dress, which at the same time matches to the color of your shiny eyes. He also paid for new shoes, a watch, and a hairdresser visit, but even that couldn’t compare to your soft, natural blushes and the sweet facial expression you gave him when he came to your house with his butler.

“... You’re stressed?” You asked quietly as you sat in the car and he squeezed your little hand between his much larger ones.

“I’ve just never been at a prom... public... especially at school.” He muttered, and though he turned his head, you could see a hint of blush on his nose and both cheeks. So you chuckled lightly as you cuddled up against his shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.”

The school hasn’t changed much; only a few holiday decorations have been added here and there. However, the gymnasium took your breath away because it was magically decorated. But before you had time to take your seats on the other side of the door, your physical education teacher stopped the two of you.

“Couples enter after payment.” Mr. Matsuzaki said, and the Santa Claus hat on his head added to the charm of his muscular figure.

Of course, Saiko was already taking out his wallet, but you quickly stopped it, pointing in a specific direction. It was, obviously, the smol mistletoe, which was the aforementioned entry ticket for couples who decided to show up at the ball together. So you smiled slightly at your boyfriend and he looked at you confused.

“What is it?”

“O-Oh, you never kissed under the mistletoe?”

“Kissing under it has any meaning?” He asked, still surprised, and you just moved closer to his face, stealing a short, really sweet kiss.

“It’s a tradition, love. You have to kiss under every mistletoe if you notice one.” You said happily and then thanked the teacher for going inside the gym.

Of course, Metori in his head was already calculating how many tons of mistletoe he should buy so that you could continue kissing him as sweetly as you just did.

— JUUZOU

You put two cups of hot, beautifully fragrant chocolate on the table; one was with two white marshmallows and the other with six. Of course, it was easy to guess which portion was for Juuzou and which was for you. Nevertheless, you smiled gently and then sat down next to the white-haired boy, staring at him out of the corner of your eye.

“... About what did you dream, Juuzou-kun?” You asked softly, taking the purple cup between both hands. The warm ceramics pleasantly burned your all fingers, which made you breathe blissfully. “Of course, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to tell me. We can just sit in silence and drink our sweet cocoa.” You added after a brief second so as not to put unnecessary pressure or general stress on the nineteen-year-old.

“It’s no big deal. I dreamed about my mom.” He admitted hesitantly, also taking his dark-green mug. “When I woke up and looked at the calendar I realized we had Christmas time and... Well, my mom never gave me any, not even a small gift, nor did I ever spend that time like other children my age. It hit me a bit. Not that I regret it, but... what Christmas really is?” His short speech made you look at him with a very sad expression on your face and after a quick while you just put your warm chocolate on the table, getting up from your wooden chair and walking to a random cupboard in your smol kitchen.

This year you didn’t have time (because of work) and no idea (because of fatigue) for presents for loved ones, and even more so for the unexpected guest – Suzuya, who loved to sleep in your house because, as he once said, ‘He felt at your place very safe’, but you managed to come up with a little surprise fastly; you wrapped a red ribbon that was in the cupboard with needles and scissors around an unopened box of nut cookies. You also managed to find a piece of paper and a black pen, so you wrote a concise but sincere wishes to the inspector, which ended with a tiny heart and a star. Out of the corner of your eye, you also noticed the mistletoe lying next to the clock, which was a little joke your dear friend had made to you two days ago. So you took everything and went back to the quietly sitting Juuzou, smiling slightly at him, even a bit silly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about gifts before, but... I hope that’s enough. After today’s work, we can go to the gallery or the park to see the decorated Christmas trees, you will surely like them. Happy Holidays, Juuzou. I hope next year will be a good one for you.” You said shyly as you handed him ribbon-decorated cookies. At the sight of them, the boy only blushed, then looked at your other hand, which was still gripping a little twig. “Ohh... it’s... such a small tradition where you get a kiss under the mistletoe.” You picked up the plant and then placed it over the white-haired young man’s head, bending down after a while and giving him a short peck on the left, smooth cheek. “Merry Christmas once again.”

“Merry Christmas to you too and... thank you for that.”

You only smirked, reaching for the mug of already cool drink. However, you weren’t disappointed in drinking the cold cocoa, because the honest, slightly timid smile of the boy you liked from the beginning of your work at CCG warmed your whole body better than any other hot chocolate, tea or coffee.

336 notes · View notes

purpleyellow · 3 years

Text

Unwanted opinion

NCT 24th member / Dream 8th member

Bee’s Masterlist

“Bee meets a very inconvenient person”

disclaimer: the inconvenient person is a sasaeng

a/n: Feel free to share your thoughts with me. Requests are open!💛

As far as she knew, a scalp massage could be the cure to all of Bee’s problems. Maybe she had actually fallen asleep there because suddenly the hairdresser’s assistant was shaking her shoulders and saying she could leave the washing room to wait for them in one of the separate rooms.

It felt honestly good knowing she would only be getting a trim and not a full color change this time, though the girl didn’t know how long that would be her destiny. From what she had been told, once 2020 promotions were done, she’d definitely part ways with darker colors, so getting a quick treatment any opportunity she could was always a go to.

Sitting on the high chair with her hair still dripping from the wash, she adjusted the towel on her shoulders and looked down to see the notifications on her phone. The clicking of the door brought her back to reality and Bee looked through the mirror to find a girl maybe a few years older than her peeking inside.

“Hello” She bowed sitting down, not wanting to be rude in case she was a new worker and therefore she couldn’t recognize her.

“Oh well, I was expecting someone more exciting but I mean…” Chuckling ironically, the woman closed the door walking behind the chair and maintaining eye contact through the refection “I guess I have some stuff to tell you too”

“Um, sorry. I’m here for the haircut” Bee frowned not catching what she meant and suddenly freezing as the woman ran a hand through the NCT girl’s hair.

“I’m aware. My friend told me one of the members would be here, I just hoped it would be somebody else” She said nonchalantly, still combing the strands with her fingers but the motion didn’t feel as comforting as it did before.

“Maybe I should go then” Bee hid her shakiness by clapping both hands together and lowered her gaze, now feeling the other staring at the back of her head as she tried to think of something to say. To be honest, she had never had an encounter this straight forward with a sasaeng before and just the ambiance felt suffocating enough to send her into a mild panic.

“It’s honestly such a pity” She kept going like she hadn’t heard the girl “You could have done so much better in a smaller company. I mean, what was SM doing debuting you in NCT of all groups”

Looking around the room. Bee felt a slight tingle up her neck as she saw the scissors on the nearby tray as well as some other materials with pointy edges, and for a minute she hated herself for realizing that. Everything was going to be fine, nothing would happen.

“Don’t worry shortcake, I’m not crazy” The woman laughed following her gaze and pushing the tray away with her feet. Her hands still on the girl’s hair “But as I was saying, who the hell thought it was a good idea to put a mediocre dancer in a group of already talented boys. Like, you’re aware you have nothing that sticks you out in a crowd, aren’t you?”

“I’ve seen some people complaining you don’t have enough lines but if we’re being clear that’s because you can’t do them. So they have to push that whole dance thing when in reality, there are twenty three other people who can do just as much and even more than you. It’s really pathetic if I were you I’d drop out for once. Try your luck as a dancer with some not so good idols and maybe you’d get the spotlight for once”

Tilting down to look at her phone screen, Bee got stopped by her hands holding her head in place. Cleaning her throat, she tried not to sound nervous “Thank you for the advice”

“Really think about it Yunhee” The woman lowered her head next to Bee’s and pointed at their reflection “Are you really good enough to be in that group. Maybe you’ve been bringing them down all this time”

“Sorry I’m late Yunhee-ssi, there was a problem- Who are you?” The hairstylist stopped at the door crossing her arms at the strange woman.

“Ah, don’t worry about it, I’m one of Yunhee´s friends” She smiled sweetly but Bee frowned denying it which led her to pull the girl’s hair back and the stylist to jump inside to drag her away from the idol.

“What are you doing? We were just talking” The woman yelled, trying to get her arms out of the hairdresser’s grip but before anything happened a manager walked in confused by the noise.

“What’s going on here?” He said with authority, though once he saw the face of the stranger things fell into place for him. Holding her by the arm so the stylist could call the security, he began dragging her out of the room as Bee sat there watching them with wide eyes.

One of her hands quickly feeling her pulse just to be sure she was even awake before falling to the bracelet to mess with the clasp. The starting of a headache being another reassurance she was in fact witnessing everything.

“Did she do anything to you?” Bee got snapped back into reality by the manager entering the room again, a clearly annoyed Jeno behind him reminding her that he, too, had come to get a mask treatment and get his blue retouched. Ironically enough, she felt relieved for not saying anything about his presence to the woman.

“Are you okay?” He kneeled in front of her chair but Bee hadn’t really digested what had gone down yet.

“I’m going to leave you two together and go check everything downstairs” The manager gave them a firm nod and Jeno turned to ask him. “Did you call the cops already?”

Freezing for a moment, he gave them an apologetic look “The protocol doesn’t allow me to tell you what’s going on until everything is settled. It’s said to help with idols’ anxiety”

“It’s not really helpful not knowing what’s going on” Bee mumbled but the door had already closed leaving her with a concerned Jeno.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

“No, we just talked. I mean.. she talked while I sat there listening” Her answer didn’t quite satisfy him, so Jeno stood up holding her hand and going further as to ask “What did she say?”

Taking a deep breath, Bee looked around slowly comprehending the girl’s words “She just… talked a bunch”

“Yunhee, I’m asking what did she say?” With a firmer voice, Jeno squeezed her hand which led her eyes to gloss over and the girl shook her head, lips trembling as she mumbled “I don’t want to repeat it”

“Don’t believe in anything you heard” Jeno whispered hugging her and patting her back, he had his doubts if she was crying because nothing wet had touched his shirt but the girl was shaking like he had never seen before “They think they know who we are but it’s all a lie”

207 notes · View notes

steve0discusses · 3 years

Text

S5 Ep 3: Apdnarg is Really Hard to Spell

Yo guys, people are getting vaccinated, the sun is parting through the clouds, and I felt so nice that I even stopped listening to quite so many throwback 00′s BTS mashups (and yet I keep clicking on these dissonant catastrophes thinking “this time it’s got to be better. This time they’ll figure it out.” and like, no. Turns out you can’t match Brittany’s Toxic with BTS’ Black Swan. You can’t do that.)

This must be a sign that things are getting better. If anything, it means my personal tastes are improving. I mean I only clicked on like 3 “Dark Academia” Playlists where I could pretend I’m some sort of spooky witch in an abandoned library with a bad music player and basic taste in classical music (like can we ban Satie from Youtube for a little while?). Hell, I might even do a prompt update to this blog!

Yeah, you heard me, I’m actually going to stay ahead of the update schedule for Yugioh Abridged (maybe. I haven’t actually watched cuz of spoilers, I just noticed the thumbnail pop up on Youtube and was like “Damn it, they came out of hiatus??? I got hurry UP.”)

Anyway, speaking of the sky parting.

I’ll have you know my bro said this is actually more like a circumcision and it was one of the worst thing I have ever heard.

We get a chance to take in this lineup of confusing and varied character designs, and Joey. who is...still Joey.

The animators probably had to hold a strike in order for them to put Yugi in the audience, lets be real. There are TOO MANY PEOPLE in this shot and one is wearing a turban where you draw every single wrap. I hope those artists charged by the line.

Tea has a subplot where she’s just very frustrated with everyone she knows. They have been traveling together for like many weeks and got trapped in a foreign country so I get it. But at the same time, it’s kind of hard to picture Tea with female friends.

Because right now you got this 12 year old child, the other duelist who does not care about anything besides cards, and Kaiba’s 3 dragon cards that we’ve all collectively decided are female.

Hell it’s almost like the writers are asking themselves why Tea is here. Maybe they forgot. There’s no more ghosts to bus, no more people to knock out with her ass with random Olympic feats. Tea’s just sidelining.

(read more under the cut)

Mokuba is a itty bit bit taller this season, and so I guess that means he can legally climb on top of the cherry picker in order to give a riveting speech.

Really says a lot about Mokuba that he is so unphased about talking to, I dunno...an entire planet of people. Kind of a shame we never see this courage from Mokuba used for anything other than talking really, really big and giving everyone around him a really hard time.

Mokuba takes a moment to dunk on Yugi Muto, as is Kaiba tradition.

And then introduce the first pair of duelists, which obviously must be between the few people in this tournament that we actually know and care about.

Thankfully, in between last episode and this episode, Yugi has figured out who his own Grandpa is. This is a relief, because Yugi is such a mess, that I was fully convinced it would take over half a season for him to recognize it. I mean how long did it take him to figure out he shares a body with a ghost? Like half a season?

Instead Yugi recovered gracefully from not recognizing his grandpa, but it’s not like he bothered to tell anyone else, so the rest of our cast is just gonna be like “Is he my hairdresser? The guy who delivers my mail? Who is this guy who made absolutely no significant changes to his outfit or voice?”

Like sometimes this show goes full Spongebob silly kid’s show and you never know when to take it seriously or not. They might be sacrificing the entire cast next episode. I really don’t know. But for now their big concern is who is grandpa??? Like an innocent card version of “Are you my Mother?”

Faced with public speaking, Yugi decides to have a melt down.

We have seen him face monsters, we’ve seen him on TV dozens of times, he’s been in multiple competitions...but give a speech? Of course he can’t do that. The kid doesn’t attend enough school to know how to do that. Them’s learning skills.

And that was when a newly assembled wife-jet spliced through the sky like a souped up razer scooter and deposited 1 fully equipped Seto Kaiba in a Buzz Lightyear jetsuit.

THE RECOVERY.

Seto always watching over his Brother, ready to save this awkward party if it kills him (and it really should, that suit is held together by two seat-belts), making sure to get on that platform before Yugi starts going off about how he’s half an Ancient Egyptian. (Ah, life before social media. You could just be hella famous and also half a dead dude and people would just not know. I kinda miss the time before I knew literally everything about everyone.)

Please admire how close those flames are to setting Mokuba’s heavily hairsprayed mane completely alight. It would be an unforgettable spectacle.

These were absolutely just random ass jet packs that Gozaburo Kaiba made to kill hell tons of people, right? Like Seto found it in the family cabin, clutched to the heart of some crispy fried corpse and was like “neat! Mokuba! I found a cool toy!” and just plucked that thing out of that skeleton’s clutches and has been flying around for months?

Like this is Seto Kaiba’s Butter Glider, right?

Seriously what type of vehicle license do you need for one of these things? RIP My ‘Seto only has a scooter license’ headcanon.

Which I’m only even thinking about because I’ve had to try and make an appt with the DMV for days to get a freakin REAL ID. I went to sleep in 2019 and I could fly on a plane. I woke up in 2021 and it’s like “Want one last screw you?” and just...can 2020 please stop screwing me over? It’s March.

Anyway, the Jet is removed soon after, so no, this is not part of his new outfit. He goes right back to his Post-S4-Trauma-Normcore.

After wrestling this competition out of his brother’s hands and confusing everyone in the audience, Roland must have gotten the memo to cut the microphone before Seto got too excited and we were quickly ushered on to the next stage of the tournament.

One sec...the BTS Mashup playlist I just clicked on did a Black Swan X 7 rings mashup and it’s the worst thing my ears have ever heard.

Holy crap. I had to actually turn down my volume. Like...Ariana Grande already has music that has way too many overlapping singing parts on it--and then lets just stick a 52-person boy band on top? That’ll fix it. Yeah. Go ahead.

Wow. Even I had to change the song and you know how much I enjoy pop culture mistakes.

Spot the Mickey but like a million times easier because it’s a Massive Dick Shaped Dragon.

Yep. That’s my grocery shopping outfit. Except maybe not a lab coat and a duel disk. Wish I had a duel disk, that would make social distancing just a hell ton earlier. Just a “Yo, only one person in checkout, please” and then bap them on the head with a propelled discuss/hologram.

Anyway, Grocery shopping/Doctor man dueled the Purple Hair Boy, and considering that Purple Hair got screen time and shook Yugi’s hand once--I think that Doctor man doesn’t stand a freakin chance.

Good. I hate him.

Also, every time he breathes he’s gonna fog up his glasses. I have experience in this area. He can’t read his own cards in the same way I can’t read my phone if I’m in the refrigerated aisle.

So the way this tournament works, is everyone has to sit in the stadium to watch the show. Kinda like showing up to a football stadium just to watch a recorded TV monitor...but then again...that is how it feels to watch a football game at a football stadium when it’s live (at least with the tickets I usually get.)

And as we watch Grandpa waiting for his competitor, we find out that his competitor (Joey) is too busy eating snacks to give him the time of day.

Why do cartoon hot dogs always have lettuce? Is that seriously supposed to be relish? Or is there a place in the world where you put lettuce on your hot dog?

Sorry, bro has just informed of his favorite hot dog order, which is absolutely terrible so I will share it with you: a Five Guys hot dog with ketchup, mustard, pickle relish, onions, mushrooms, pickled peppers, and you guessed it--topped with freakin lettuce.

My own kin. How am I over 30 and just finding out that my baby brother thinks it’s normal to walk into a restaurant with normal god-fearing law-abiding people and order lettuce and mushrooms on a hot dog?

I have fully failed him.

The rest of this episode is watching both Joey Wheeler and Mokuba have a shared panic attack while Seto does freakin nothing.

Please remember that Seto has both a jetpack and a dragon wife plane and could have easily solved this problem. But nah.

Then again, Seto Kaiba has given this crew so MANY rides, that maybe he’s tired of being the Soccer Mom for the team?

Like they don’t actually say this episode, but Seto was the one in charge of like...this entire place, do you think he made the 2 for 1 special just to get Joey where it hurts the most? Or does it actually not take any subterfuge to screw Joey Wheeler because he’s just naturally this way?

Like Mokuba wasn’t there when Joey was told “stay right here, and then we will all go together to fight Dartz” and Joey was like “I’mma save Mai from herself although she told me not to!” and then he Hella Died. But, Mokuba did see the result, AKA, Joey’s dead body being carried on the back of Tristan. Maybe Mokuba never realized that Joey died because he went out of his way to be late?

Lets do a tally of every time I can recall with my dodgy memory that Joey was threatened to be DQ’d/pretty much was DQ’d either by his own fault or no fault of his own

-When he wasn’t allowed to go on the boat to Murder Island because he was a stupid nobody kid who did not have a dueling glove

-When he wasn’t actually supposed to be in Pegasus’ tourney and was, in fact, secretly using half of Yugi’s entrance ticket the entire time

-when Bandit Keith stole the ticket that Joey got from Yugi so then Joey had to borrow Mai’s ticket although she had just used it so it really shouldn't have counted. Because, really anyone could have just piggy backed off of each other’s ticket until the whole boat went through that castle.

-When his account was hacked to get entered into Kaiba’s tourney when Kaiba very clearly told him he could not apply solely because he was Joey Wheeler.

-When he was late to his sister’s eye surgery because he got mugged by Marik’s Rare Hunters, so she almost refused to do the surgery.

-When Joey got possessed by Marik, and as Marik, threatened to murder everyone else in the tournament including both of the Kaiba brother’s who’s tournament it was, and then chained himself to Yugi Muto to throw both of them to the bottom of the ocean.

-I think there was a point when he threatened to attack Kaiba in Kaiba’s own tourney while not possessed? Like several times?

-when he got struck by Lightning and almost did not stand up fast enough after being struck by lightning, which is apparently a type of DQ in Duel Monsters.

-When he tried to save Mai from getting hit by a fireball, but then Yugi did it instead, and then so many people were standing on the dueling platform that Kaiba couldn’t possibly DQ them all.

-When he entered the restricted area of the blimp in order to hassle Kaiba into landing the Blimp, which Kaiba did not do.

-When Marik killed Joey before Joey could press the “go” button on his duel disk to play the card that should have won Joey the match.

-When he was dueling a lawyer in a digital universe but then the dice was like...weighted? So Noah had to walk over and be like “The hell is this weighted dice? This is my perfect digital world? How did you even do that?” and then Joey won because the match was no longer legit.

-When Joey yelled at Noah too much and so Noah turned Joey to stone for being a rude ass spectator

-When Mai was like “Wheeler and Valon, listen closely: do NOT murder each other” and then Joey did a murder on Valon so she was like “I guess I have no choice, I was very clear” and killed Joey straight up.

-When Joey decided to block Seto’s fireballs while Joey Wheeler WAS a playing card, somehow disrespecting both Dartz and Seto Kaiba at the same time.

-When Joey was playing cards but then got absorbed into a giant Leviathan and basically couldn’t play anymore after that.

-There’s probably hell ton of S0 stuff I just haven’t seen yet.

-This episode

And Joey runs fast for a montage of wacky things that really have no business being in a theme park. Things like this:

(remember when Bakura almost died from a rock that ended up being a balloon? It comes full circle.)

The stuff that the Kaiba brother’s think is normal and fun.

Anyway Joey fights off a bunch of hologram snakes and bats and everyone is like “Should we tell him it’s just holograms???” And it’s like wow, guys, how many times have these ‘holograms’ straight up murdered Joey Wheeler and everyone else on this cast? Too many? Because I have a google doc with so many deaths on it. 7,805,844,048, to be exact.

Anyway, he gets there with five seconds to spare and Mokuba’s like “well at least you were still entertaining while we filmed you in front of a live audience being a total spaz for 15 minutes straight, so I’ll let you go.”

Grandpa and Joey start playing, Joey completely oblivious that this is just an older Muto, while Hawkins walks up awkwardly and is like “hey guys. I’m so sorry about this.”

(welcome to my font choices, for those new here, I have to make weird font color choices to make sure it’s legible for the colorblind and also for the non-colorblind. This one is not much contrast, so I may change it up in the future, but for now, this is Grandpa Muto’s new font. I apologize to every graphic designer reading this. Please don’t tell anyone who has ever hired me for graphic design about this blog.)

What’s funny about this exchange is that after they find out that Yugi’s Grandpa is Apdnarg (HOLY my brain cannot get around the spelling for that, and I will not change it in the caps. I cannot do a ‘pdn’ ever again), they don’t stand on his side of the field or anything. Hawkins is legit Solomon Muto’s only fan during this exchange and like...damn. Way not to back your Grandpa, Yugi.

Yugi immediately strides up to Mokuba to non-confrontation-ally inform him that he has stepped over a line and Mokuba is like “what are these things you say called ‘lines?’”

According to Mokuba, Solomon Muto begged him to be in the competition so he could relive his glory days (glory days making no sense here, because the game has only been released for the past 15 years, so glory days is like...the before times that can only be referring to disgraced archeologists and Pegasus ((who is, in his own way...a disgraced archeologist, too))) and Mokuba was like

“You trained Yugi Muto, right? Hey that’s good enough for me. This drama is gold. People will eat it up. Hell yes. Don’t be afraid to abduct him a little bit. Maybe trap a couple people in a digital hellscape for a little while? Now we go by Pegasus house rules here, so fire as many lasers as you want, but just make sure not to hit anyone in the face. Oh man, we are going to be swimming in cash. Love it, Muto Sr, love it.”

But I dunno, I feel like Grandpa won’t make it past next episode. It is Joey. We kinda need him to make it past Ep 4 of the arc. If Grandpa Muto becomes the new Joey Wheeler, that will be a weird transition for this show to make.

But that’s all for today, as always, here is the link to read these in chrono order becuase there’s SO MANY that you don’t need to read backwards--don’t do it--just use the chrono tag (and I don’t know if you can add compound tags, but I did separate the Season from the Episode, so if you write S4, it should only pop up stuff from S4. I didn't’ do that to seasons 1-3 though because I just...didn’t.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And because I brought it up: here it is, the best BTS Mashup that I found on my deep dive. Like legit--this one isn’t a mess:

youtube

Most of other ones are horrible in a fascinating way. Like I’m not even a BTS fan, I think I sort of age out of that metric, I’m just bored and quarantined. And lets be real, we all appreciate a good bop when we hear it.

#yugioh #ygo #yu gi oh #photo recap #recap #episode recap #yugi muto #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #Joey Wheeler #Apdnarg #Grandpa muto #tea gardner #tristan taylor #professor hawkins #and then I ranted about BTS #but please don't quiz me about BTS I know nothing about them aside from the music #I actually thought there were over 12 of them because every time I see them perform it feels like an entire stageplay production of people #like a 101 dalmations situation where every time I saw BTS there were 3 new people #I assumed it was like the Gorrilaz where people just show up and then disappear in a rotation #but no. There's 7 BTS members #that can't be right #there has to be more than 7 #is this a berenstein bears situation?#how is there only 7?#I swear there used to be like 16 #and they would be introduced like here's jimin and Jungkook and red and yellow and green and brown and scarlet and black and ochre and pea #like is google seriously telling me there's only 7 kids in this band?#this is the biggest scam google has ever played on me #this weird alternate timeline that not only has an epidemic but also only 7 members of BTS

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just-a-poor-boy-queen · 3 years

Note

70s Jimercury

I know this was completed brilliantly by another anon, but I wanted to give it a try myself because it’s such a funny prompt. Credit goes to the anon who came up with this.

Warning for some outdated language regarding gay people (e.g., queer, homosexual, etc.)

‘In my defence,’ said Roger, as the car went over a speed bump and he temporarily lost his balance, almost ending up on Brian’s lap, ‘it was John who dared me to put chewing gum in your hair, so technically this is all his fault.’

‘Don’t even talk to me.’ Brian growled, his expression so dark it made Roger feel like a ghost had passed through him. ‘You’re lucky Miami was able to get me this appointment at such short notice. If he hadn’t, you and Deacy would be arriving to that photoshoot tonight in a hearse.’

‘You’re breaking my heart, Bri.’ Roger yawned, leaning back in his seat. ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist; the nice barber man will trim your bush and you’ll be good as new for your close up.’

‘Oh yeah, with a whopping great bald patch!’

‘Such a pessimist. Trust me; one day we’ll be sitting on my front lawn, sipping tea, and laughing about this.’

Brian’s face remained bland as a stone.

‘Oh, cheer up, would you?’ The drummer threw up his arms in defeat. ‘We already have one miserable bastard in this band, we don’t need another one.’

Brian sighed, staring out of the darkened window as his mind turned to their ailing frontman. Freddie hadn’t been the same since his breakup with David Minns. David was, after all, his first proper love; he had given Freddie the courage to finally come to terms with who he really was and end his fraudulent relationship with Mary. There was something about David that brought Freddie to life in a way that Brian had never seen before. When David was around, he glowed with an energy that didn’t seem humanly possible.

But all relationships have their ups and downs. Freddie never went into detail about the rows that occurred between he and David, but Brian had heard through the grapevine that there were several contributing factors to the breakup, ranging from Freddie's strained relationship with his parents to arguments becoming physical. But the real catalyst came in the form of a blond American man named Joe Fanelli; and Freddie being Freddie, he just couldn’t resist temptation when it was offered up to him on a silver platter.

The aftermath of the separation had been…devastating to say the least. The spark in Freddie had almost vanished entirely, replaced with an emotionless husk. He had no motivation, not even to perform; his days were spent hidden away in his hotel room, refusing to emerge, even for the most basic necessities like food and water. And the others had no choice but to sit and watch his self-destruction.

‘We need to do something about him.’ Brian announced, as the car pulled up to the curb where security was already waiting for them. ‘It’s been two weeks and he’s barely shifted from that bed. We’ll need to stage a fucking intervention at this point.’

‘One problem at a time, Bri.’ Roger replied as the car door was pulled open. ‘Now hop it, Miami will eat us alive if we’re late.’

They made it into the Savoy without being detected by any lurking members of the public; Brian sighed in relief as he was led into the salon and all but collapsed in the barber chair. He just wanted to get his hair sorted and then leave as soon as possible. He was tired, he was hungry, and he felt fucking awful for making some poor underpaid hairdresser stay behind after hours to battle with his curly mop. He just hoped he’d be able to keep up with the endless questions that would undoubtedly be coming his way; after all, it wasn’t every day you got to trim a celebrity’s noggin, was it?

‘Alright lads?’ A thick, friendly Irish accent suddenly filled the room, and the two of them turned to see an average sized man with a dark, thick beard pop out from behind the counter, a large black gown draped on his arm and a toolbag under the other. ‘What can I do for you today?’

Brian motioned to the wad of gum stuck in his curls. ‘Going to need to take a chunk out of my head, I’m afraid. This one over hear thought it would be funny to use my skull as a school desk.’

‘It was a dare.’ Roger grumbled.

The man chuckled humorously. ‘Let’s have a look at it before we do anything rash.’ He draped the gown around Brian’s front, before opening up the toolbag and setting out the various instruments on the counter. ‘I’m Jim by the way.’

‘Brian. The smug twat sitting over there is Roger.’

Said twat pulled a face. ‘Oi!’

The first thing that struck Brian was that this fellow didn’t appear to recognise them at all. They chatted about nearly everything except music; and when the conversation turned to work and Jim asked what Brian did for a living, the guitarist was certain that someone was pulling his leg. Had Miami really managed to find the one barber in London who had no idea who Queen was?

‘We’re musicians.’ He replied, glancing in the mirror for any sign of recognition in Jim’s eyes. ‘We actually have our own band. Ever heard of Queen?’

The barber frowned slightly in thought. ‘Queen? Sorry, doesn’t ring any bells. I’m not really up to date with today’s music. Does your band perform locally?’

‘On occasion.’

‘Had any success?’

‘We do alright for ourselves.’ Brian glared at Roger as the drummer sniggered in the background.

‘Good news.’ Declared Jim, after ten minutes of fiddling about with Brian’s forest of curls. ‘I should be able to shift this with a bit of conditioner. No cutting needed.’

‘Are you serious?’ Brian could have kissed the man if he was that way inclined. ‘Mate, that’s fantastic.’

Jim excused himself to go into the back room, oblivious to the pair of narrowed blue eyes that followed him, studying every step. Roger, who had been silent throughout the exchange between the other two men, suddenly twiddled his fingers together like a Bond villain and quietly muttered, ‘queer.’

Brian stopped fussing with his hair long enough to turn towards him. ‘You what?’

‘Him.’ Roger pointed towards the door that Jim had just disappeared through. ‘Queer. I’d bet the Red Special on it.’

‘Roger, you can’t just go around calling people queer.’ Brian could feel his face heating up, praying the Irishman didn’t have sharp hearing. ‘Besides, how the bloody hell would you know if he’s queer or not? It’s not like he has it written on his forehead.’

‘Trust me, I know these things. Call it a sixth sense. Saw it coming from a mile away with Freddie.’

‘Did not.’

‘Did so, Brian. Unlike you, this sort of thing doesn’t fly over my head.’

Brian rolled his eyes. ‘Alright, let’s say he is queer. What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? He’d be perfect for Freddie.’

‘Seriously, Roger? You want to play matchmaker now? How exactly is he “perfect” for Freddie?’

‘He looks like Burt Reynolds, he spent ages gushing about his pet cat, and it’s pretty obvious he has no fucking idea who Queen are. Freddie’s always been a sucker for the average Joe.’

Brian opened his mouth to argue. Then he closed it again, immediately. Roger was…pretty damn spot on.

‘I say we get Freddie in here to meet him.’ Roger murmured, as Jim returned from the back room, bottle of conditioner in hand.

‘Sorry for the wait.’ The Irishman poured a dollop onto his palm, before carefully working it into the gum-infested locks. ‘Let’s see if we can get this bugger out.’

No less than five minutes later, the gum had been safely removed and Brian was a free man again. Miami had already covered the cost for the cut, but Brian insisted on leaving Jim a tip, eternally grateful that his pride and joy was still neatly intact. Maybe Roger had a point; Jim seemed like a decent bloke. Calm, friendly, ordinary in an endearing way. Broad and muscular like Freddie preferred, though not overly tall (though everyone was dwarfed in Brian’s presence.) And now that he thought about it, he did look a bit like Burt Reynolds…

‘You wouldn’t be able to do us a favour, would you Jim?’

‘Just name it.’ Jim replied, still staring gormlessly at the fifty-pound note in his hand.

‘We have a friend who’s in desperate need of a trim.’ The lie fell off Brian’s tongue so easily, it almost made him uncomfortable. ‘Would I be able to arrange an appointment for him with you next week? It would have to be after hours again, but-’

‘No problem.’ Jim quickly came to his sense and shoved the money in his pocket. ‘I can put him down for Friday if that works?’

‘Perfect! See you then.’

He all but dragged Roger out of the salon, wading through the small crowd of fans who had congregated outside the building after being tipped off about their presence, and quickly diving into the car waiting on the curb.

‘Not one word.’ He said between his teeth, as Roger flashed him a smirk that said, “I told you so.” (1/2)

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

First of all, I am so sorry for posting this so late! I had a really busy day, and haven't had a moment to myself until now.

And now...

I FUCKING LOVE THIS! The earlier drabble by another anon was wonderful, and this one is equally good!

Lmao, I loved this line:

Brian motioned to the wad of gum stuck in his curls. ‘Going to need to take a chunk out of my head, I’m afraid. This one over hear thought it would be funny to use my skull as a school desk.’

Hahaha this was so damn funny, and sweet and oh god simply amazing!

(More drabbles by writer anon)

#ask response #jim hutton #freddie mercury #anon writing #alternate universe

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raschuuuu · 3 years

Text

WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME BACK? // M.YG angst (Suga)

Summary: You finally had your debut with your girl group with Big Hit entertainment. That was your absolute biggest dream but what happens when you have to decide now? Do you want to live your idol life and let the love of your life go for it? Or do you decide for the life of your life?

Word count: 5k

Genre: angst

warnings: established relationship / swearing / soft yoongi / mentioning of breakups / mentioning of suicide/death

Pairing: Yoongi!idol x female idol!reader

A/N: Hello guuuuys! Today I hope very much that you will like this one here! I didn't get any requests so I want to say it again one more time: FEEL FREE TO SEND ME YOUR REQUESTS!!! 😟🥺It’s my second fanfic on this blog I worked very hard on it so I really really hope you guys will enjoy it. If you guys think I could do anything better or you have another preferences please let me know. I’d be very happy if you guys leave a like so I know you read it and liked it. Another note: English is not my first language I’m very sorry if you guys find any mistakes.. 💔

_____________________________________________________________________________

5th December 2020

What could be better than having a debut just before the year ends? My group and I were supposed to have our debut much earlier but that was postponed due to the COVID pandemic so it was complicated to have a debut this year but nevertheless our company managed to give us a debut before the year ends and I really have to say it's the best thing that could ever happen to me!

My dream has finally come true. How long was I a trainee? Exactly. Six years. Six freaking years I was hidden behind the scenes of my big and famous company. It feels really shitty to be in the shadow of two famous groups in South Korea. Don't get me wrong I'm a really big fan of BTS and TXT but we got tired of being told that we're going to make our debut but at the end we didn’t. I know the guys from BTS and TXT personally and we all get along super well even the other members of my group. But to be honest BTS and TXT couldn't wait for our debut to happen and finally it's here (y/g/n) finally gets the recognition.

31st December 2020

Of course our lives have changed dramatically since we made our debut. Of course it's much harder to go out alone now than before. Before I was a nobody. No one knew me but now I don't even dare to go alone to the convenient store that is just around the corner of our dorm. You might think I'm exaggerating a bit but no, unfortunately it's the truth. Nevertheless, I don't want to spoil my idol life. After our debut we had a lot of promotions and interviews. But even before that we didn't have much time because we had to shoot our music video and photo shoots and we were all sent to the hairdresser because our old look was officially bye bye. I’m happy with my new look I think I look so beautiful I can't believe what a haircut and a nice makeup can do to a person.

Today is the 31st of December. New Year's Eve! New year takes place in less than 24 hours! Where am I? I'm at this year's MBC Gayo DaeJeon. My first new year's eve without my family and officially my first new year's eve as an idol. I'm so excited I can't believe it I'm going to be on stage with my girls and I'm meeting other idols how exciting is that. I'm sitting in the makeup room getting my makeup done by our makeup artist and on the side our hairstylist is making me a high ponytail. I hope I'll look good. Dabi, the oldest of our group and therefore our Unni, has just finished and looks adorable. Miso sits to my left and is also getting her make-up and hair done. Hyemi is getting ready after me because she doesn't take up much time. She has the shortest hair of all of us. I’m sitting with my mobile phone in my hand and texting with my mother. Sometimes I wish I could be with her and with my father and my siblings. I miss them all like hell. I haven't seen them since before our debut. I can't wait to hold them all in my arms next time.

(eomma):

y/n we miss you! New year's eve isn't the same without you but hopefully you'll have fun on stage today. We'll all be watching you! Your dad and I your grandparents and your siblings so don't worry we're always with you! Good luck my child fighting! 🎉🎆

I notice how i get tears in my eyes but no I mustn't cry my makeup gets ruined. Just as I want to answer my mother i get a new text on my phone.

(yoongi):

I'm excited to see you tonight! You'll be great I believe in you.

By the way... I guess I didn't tell you that I'm dating Min Yoongi. That's right, Min Yoongi.

flashback

2014

"Y/n! We're about to meet BTS!" says Hyemi as I just walked into the dance practice room. What BTS? The group that made their debut last year? "Really why?" I ask looking at her confused. Apparently all new trainee male or female, are introduced to BTS because they want to give us some nice words and encouragement on our way as trainees. Just as I was about to sit down, the seven men came in the door. One after the other, they passed us by. Wow, these guys can count themselves lucky that their time is up. But one boy in particular stands out to me. He has red hair. Not too light and not too dark, a red that almost goes brown. He is beautiful.

I haven't really informed myself about who BTS is, of course I still have difficulties to remember their names, I just became a trainee before I didn't care who was a trainee here... but this man is beautiful!

Oh crap he looks at me. Why is he looking at me. Someone tell him to look the other way please I’m so awkward I don't know how to act when someone looks at me I better look the other way. The leader said some nice words to us they all wished us luck and said that they can't wait for us to make our debut and that when the day comes they're all gonna be happy and supportive! Really nice of them I never thought that they would do something like that. We all got up and bowed and said thank you, while BTS was about to walk out I saw the red haired boy looking at me one last time before he went out. Crazy man do I have something on my face stop staring!

2015

I started to get to know them better each and every one of them. I get along best with Hoseok and Taehyung. Every now and then we run into each other in the building and talk for a few minutes. We trainees also got to meet all the guys in person, they are all so nice and down to earth I don't regret it one bit that I joined this company! Jungkook is about my age and every now and then we have a few laughs together. Once you are in the company you are like one big family whether it is with the trainees or the staff. However I have not been able to get close to one person and that is Min Yoongi. I don't know what it is but every time he and I are in a room with other people it just gets awkward. I don't know what it is but every time he is near me I feel intimidated and just want to get out of there. We've never spoken a word to be honest maybe it's because he feels awkward around me too? I can't understand why he feels this way I always try to get along with everyone even if i don't want to and make everyone feel comfortable around me because I want it to be mutual. So what's his problem?

2016

I have heard from his members that he has a crush on me and gets shy around me which I totally don't understand because how can anyone be into me? Especially back then! I don't want to go into too much detail but I can tell you that after a while and with the help of Hoseok and Taehyung he and I started texting at some point. We had been friends for a long time but only online. We were both too nervous to meet in person and to be honest that had been impossible because he was busy as fuck and no one was supposed to find out that we were texting. BTS recognition grew more and more each year and he became busier and busier each day. I was of course very happy for everyone and one rainy day in the evening Yoongi appeared out of nowhere on my doorstep and confessed his love to me. I am still overwhelmed by it and it all feels so unreal and like it just happened yesterday, but I went for it and agreed to be his girlfriend.

back to December 31st 2020

For four years we have been hiding our relationship. Nobody knows about it the whole Big Hit staff doesn't know about it and neither do our managers the only ones who know about it are his members and recently my members. I didn't want to tell them until we made our debut together because I was too scared of being told off during my trainee time. But I have to say that the girls stand behind me and accept our relationship and they all swore they would take it to the grave with them.

I quickly turn down the brightness of my screen because there's too much danger of my hairstylist and makeup artist reading the text. I close my phone and put it on my lap. How much I want to answer him but I don't dare I can't answer him when there are too many people around me. After a while we were called and it was finally our turn I'm so nervous but we managed it all with flying colors and we were the topic of the evening.

In a few minutes it's already new year I'm ready and let 2021 come to me. At midnight Yoongi calls me and I answer the phone with joy.

"Happy new year y/n! I love you and I hope we will spend more time together this year even though it will be harder now." I smile to myself and say "Happy new year Yoongi... how is your shoulder? Are you resting enough? Are you eating enough? Are you sleeping enough? Are you in pain? If you are in pain then take a painkiller and go back to the doctor!" I can't see it but I can tell he is grinning and shaking his head. I don't let him get a word in edgewise.

"Don't worry I’m fine I just miss you you're the only painkiller I can take" - "Hahaha yah! You're so corny! I miss you too sweetheart I wish we had spent this new year together... I’m sorry it turned out like this!" I feel really bad because I know he won't be able to spend new year with his boys or me... To be honest we have never had a new year together except on the phone but this time it could have worked out! He is at home with his injury and if we wouldn't have had our debut then we would have had a first new year together after four years of relationship!

January 10th 2021

At the beginning of the new year our manager gave us our schedule plan at it looked hella busy! This whole January we would be completely busy we don't even have one weekend off! I can’t believe it how will I able to see my family or even Yoongi? I saw him at the first weekend of January we spent it together at his family’s house in Daegu behause to be honest that is actually the only place that we can go to a little far away from Seoul without having to worry that any of the staff could know or see us. My family also knows and loves him to death but with my family living in Seoul it’s complicated to take him there. Our manager left the room and I looked at Dabi with the ‘You and I bathroom NOW!’ look she understood and got up from her place and she followed me to the bathroom. We checked if any other person was inside when there wasn’t I said “What the fuck I’m I gonna do now Unni? How am I able to see Yoongi? How will I be able to even go out. I won’t even have time to take the fucking trash out from our dorm when it’s my turn to clean!” I yell. She stands there giving me a confused look. “What do you expect y/n? You chose to have this idol life you know its busy and complicated to have a boyfriend especially as a fresh debuted idol! Why do you think they won't let us have a relationship? I wish I could help you but I can’t. We’re gonna be busy as fuck!” she yelled back. “Psh shut your volume down unni!” she opened the door to see if there was anyone outside but there wasn’t.

I feel bad I really do. I don't want my members to be in trouble because of me that's the last thing I want. I hug her and apologize to her. I have to think of something I don't know what to do. I don't want us to be away from each other for too long what happens when he stops loving me all of a sudden? What do I do when he goes back to work then it will all be worse! Before I became an idol we could always see each other at the end of the day but now it will be impossible. I have to talk to him about it because one thing we promised each other is that we talk about everything because that's the only way a healthy relationship can work and such a complicated relationship we both have. I take out my phone and write him a message.

(me):

Yoongi. Tonight FaceTime date you and me?

In less than two minutes I already get my answer.

(yoongi):

of course!

evening

I turn on my MacBook and call him on FaceTime. After three rings he answers the phone and turns it off too so he doesn't have to hold it in his hand. He still has his bandage on and his hair is wet he must have been in the shower. He wears cute pyjamas and fight me or not but black haired Yoongi is the most beautiful Yoongi. I always fall in love again when I see him. Hard to believe we were so awkward with each other back then but this year is already approaching 5 years together. I could never imagine my life without him.

"Hey my darling" he says happily and smiles at me. I smile back and ask him how he is. He tells me that he is getting better every day and that during his time off he has found a lot of time for himself and his music and how much he misses the others. And me too, of course. "What's wrong with you?" he asks me when he notices that my mind is somewhere else. I think he took the Facetime date too seriously. He be sitting there with his cup of ramen. I just laugh. "Yoongi... I'm going to be busy all of January and manager oppa said that February might not be any better," I say and wait for his answer. He swallows his noodles and drinks a glass of water. "Does that mean we won't see each other this month?" he asks. I think he's a little disappointed I know him and I know his tones and his looks and I can hear my heart breaking by now. And how much I'd like to see you Yoongi. Every second every day. "No," I say, and then an uncomfortable silence descends.

“You know what baby it’s fine don't worry. I mean I wasn’t any better back then do you remember when I always used to be so busy? I never had time for you and I felt so bad. But you were there for me and you stayed by my side and you were and still are the most supportive girlfriend I could ever ask for. I think it would be unfair to be mad at you. I’m happy for you forever and always” well that was unexpected. I start getting tears in my eyes. I didn't think of this reaction not at all! I smile at him and say “Thank you baby... I will appreciate it I really do. But still I feel bad because especially in this period where you're sick I wish I could be there for you and take care of you. This debut was so unexpected I’m really sorry” - “Yah don't be sorry y/n. You worked your goddamn fine ass off to be where you're at right now be proud of you this is just the beginning. And it’s not like that we won't see each other ever again right?” he says. He’s right. He’s totally right. It’s not like we won't see each other ever again.

January 17th 2020

Well... seven days passed and we still haven't seen each other and we haven't talked since one week. We text every now and then cause I really only get to use my phone when it's night and we go back home but every night I'm so damn exhausted and tired that I forget to answer to his texts. I don't even have time to text my parents back or my siblings. I feel so bad I'm such a bad person. I miss them all so much. I miss my parents. I miss my sister and my brother. I miss my grandparents. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my boyfriend so damn much. I really didn't think this life is gonna be so hard for me. I feel like I've been put in the middle of a scale with my career on one side and my relationship on the other side and I have to choose one side or the other. I've never thought about breaking up with Yoongi ever in my life. Never. I just can't. I need this man too much. Even though we never have the most beautiful and perfect relationship and see each other very rarely, it's just the thought that I know there's someone in my life who loves me and accepts me for who I am that counts. He took me with my imperfections he put his career what he loves most in his life in risk to be with me and now that we are both in this situation I don't know what to do I feel bad and selfish for even thinking about it I don't want to make him feel like my career is more important than him or our relationship he doesn't deserve that he deserves the world and he deserves to be happy. But I love my career I love my job I love my members I love our staff I love our fans. Our biggest fear was not being accepted by the society outside especially now in this period when BTS is one of the biggest groups in the whole world and have a very big influence in the KPOP industry. We were afraid that society would think that since we are the first girl group to make a Big Hit debut in a very long time that people would think that we would mess with the boys heads or that there would be any rumors started between us and the other groups. But on the contrary people have been happy for us and love our music and us individually. I feel like Hannah Montana I feel like I am living a double life.

20th January 2021

"I know you are overwhelmed with the situation my child, I can imagine that it is very hard for you but you have to know what is best for you. You can't tell anyone from your company, you are a rookie, if they find out you had a boyfriend during your trainee time then it is even worse. I wish I was with you and could help you or just be there for you. I love Yoongi very much but I love you even more and I am happy with any decision you make. Just make the right one" my mother says on the phone. Tears have been flowing since she got on the phone but I don't want to tell her and I try not to sob but I know she can tell by my tone that I am crying. She is right. I have to make a decision. Yoongi is getting better day by day and soon he will be busy too he will go back to his daily routine and the other members. He will have comebacks he will have dance practices he will have to go to the recording studio he will have photo shoots he will do interviews and when the corona situation allows he will have to go to other countries and I have to do the same.

I love him to death and I will never love anyone as much as I love him but I am just not happy like this and you can tell me what you want he is not either but he doesn't let it show. Yesterday on the phone there was such an awkward tension between us it felt like I was making small talk with a stranger. Even though I might be the bad guy but one of us has to make the first move. I have wished and hoped that this day will never come but I have to do it.

23 January 2021

Yoongi told me that he is back in his flat in Seoul with his mother. Unfortunately he still can't travel alone so his dear mum went with him. I missed her too, she's the nicest and sweetest woman ever. When I imagine that I won't see her again either, tears well up in my eyes. But today I have to do it. Who would have thought that our reunion would be like this? Who would have thought that I would break up with him. He won't expect it but I have to do it. I’m cold and sick and I just want to go to bed and get the day over with. It's 11pm at night and we've come home after a long hard day. I look out the window and wait until our manager is out of sight.

My members know about my plans and of course have asked me a million times if I am sure and if there is no other way out. I am very happy that they are worried about me but I also feel bad towards them. I have been hiding it from them all our trainee years and when I told them they were all so good about it and even want me not to do it. But no I will do it I am young and want to concentrate on my career and what is coming up for us.

I told Yoongi that I would come, of course he doesn't want to because it's way too late but I said it was important and that we had to talk about something. When I said we had to talk about something he was quiet and then just said he would wait for me. I put on a hat and a thick jacket and the hood of the jacket and a mask and a scarf and go out into the high snow that has covered Seoul. His flat is not far from mine but still I have to take a taxi. I ask the driver to wait for me because I don't want to stay there long I want to get it over with quickly and go.

(me):

can you come down?

(yoongi):

why don't you come up?

(me):

I think its better when you come down Yoongi I don't want your mom to be worried or hears any of that were gonna talk.

He doesn't text back instead I just see the lights turning on from his window. A few minutes later he comes down. Oh my fucking lord he is so handsome. I want to run up to him and kiss him from head to toe. I want to be in his arms. I want us to go upstairs together and fall asleep together. I want to build a snowman with him. I want to be with him forever I love him he is the love of my life.

He comes up to me and smiles at me. He stands in front of me and we both don't say a word. His smile turns into a confused look he notices something is wrong. "Don't I get a kiss or a hug?" he asks me. My heart breaks into a thousand pieces. I would love to rip your clothes off Min Yoongi.

"I want to break up." Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. "Yoongi say something?" I ask him. He says nothing. He looks at me with a blank look he is sad he is disappointed he is devastated just like me. "Yoongi please?". He does not speak.

"Yoongi, I'm sorry. I-i-I really love you I love you more than anything but I know that I can't give 100% in our relationship now. I just want us to be happy but I see that we are not. It could have been great during your time off but I can't be there for you... sooner or later it should have happened. I want to be with you but I can't anymore it was okay then but it's not okay now we're both famous you're in the biggest boy group in the world if anyone finds out we're together we'll be screwed. Especially me Yoongi. Female idols have it harder than male idols you know that. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and I think this will be the best thing for us I-" he interrupts me.

"How dare you to tell me what's best for me? Do you have any idea what you're talking about y/n? Stop trying to tell me what's best for me when you know you're the best thing that's ever happened to me in my life god damn. I was going through a difficult time in my life and you were the only one who was there for me! And now you're telling me let’s break up because you're afraid people are gonna find out? And that they are gonna blame you? The fuck? Theres always two fucking persons in a relationship y/n! I also wanted that. I wanted you. Don’t you love me anymore? Why don’t you love me anymore? We hid our relationship for four fucking years why can't we hide it now?" he said yelling at me.

I am shocked and sad I want to die. I don't want to live in this life without Min Yoongi. But I know it's best for us I do it for him and his career too.

"Yes I don't love you anymore" were my last words before I left.

________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: damn y/n!!! did you just break up with the mf min yoongi? you better save your relationship! guys if you want a part two (with maybe a happy ending?) let me know! love you bye 🎀

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ladyvader23 · 4 years

Text

Darth Vader, Master Hairstylist

This was inspired by @scuddington ‘s post HERE. I absolutely love Scud’s art, and this one just instantly inspired me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time Vader learned how important hair was to little children was the day Miss Laena took PTO in the morning for an important doctors appointment.

He figured he had this. It was just one morning. No big deal. The only difference was that this morning, he’d be the one getting the kids ready for school. That wasn’t hard. He was Darth Vader, Sith, destroyer of Jedi and Rebels alike, Commander of the Imperial Navy! He could handle school.

He scheduled his own meetings around the conflict, he’d warned the twins repeatedly that he needed them to cooperate, he’d made sure the night before that all was prepared. Bags, lunches, homework.

Too easy. Maybe he’d reconsider Miss Laena’s salary.

And the morning did begin smoothly. Until Leia came running to him with a brush in her hand.

“I gotta be pretty daddy!” She shoved the brush towards him. “Do my hair!”

Vader froze. He...knew nothing about hair. He knew his wife had been excellent at it. When had she begun to be interested in how she did her hair? He tried to think back, but he couldn’t remember a single time he’d seen her in public without perfectly styled tresses.

“You are a child. You do not need me to do your hair. Just brush it.”

That of course, offended Leia. She pouted and glared. “I’m a big girl daddy, and big girls have pretty hair!”

She literally forced the brush into his hand.

Well. He’d mastered the Force. How hard could hair be?

Famous last words.

First, he was apparently not gentle enough. He tried to comb the tangles that she’d acquired overnight, and each time he did she began screaming “OW!” and crying. Horrified, he decided to instead hide the tangles and figure them out later. He pulled her hair into what resembled a ponytail and stepped back. “There. Now you will be late for school. Let us leave.”

The hair wasn’t...exactly like it should be. It was crooked, and he wasn’t sure it was tight enough to stay in, but he didn’t want to hurt her further. And he was pretty sure she didn’t want him to try again, because she didn’t argue.

He forgot about the incident shortly after the kids were dropped off. Miss Laena came back shortly before the end of school. He was in their home’s personal conference room, doing assignments from home, when he heard the front door open and the telltale sound of children running through the home.

Miss Laena will take care of it. He thought, focusing back on his work…

Until he realized Leia was crying.

He hated it when she cried. Luke, he could deal with. But Leia? Absolutely not.

Shoving the datapad aside, he went to investigate.

“I’m ugly!” She was wailing when he entered the kitchen. Mis Laena was trying to comb Leia’s hair and having a hard time with it. “I’m ugly!!!”

“Who told you a ridiculous lie like that?!” Vader thundered. Leia was the image of his beloved wife. Both of them were more beautiful than all the stars of the galaxy.

But to his surprise, Leia wailed harder. “Everyone! My hair was ugly!!!”

“Your hair does not reflect how beautiful you are. Hair changes daily.”

Miss Laena winced. “Lord Vader...many children want to feel pretty when they go see their friends at school.”

“Leia is beautiful already. I do not see what the problem is.”

“...She is beautiful, but she may not feel that way when she doesn’t like her hair...and other kids might say something if it looks...different.”

“She is five.”

“Even five year olds want to feel pretty.”

Vader thought it was silly. Leia could have no hair and he’d find her just as perfect as she was with it. But judging on Leia’s reaction, she very much cared about how her hair looked.

It was something her mother should have done. Had she lived, he had no doubt Leia would never have a bad day...or even Luke for that matter (sometimes that boy needed to run a comb through his hair, if Vader was being honest with himself).

But Padme...was not there. And it was his fault for that.

So it was up to him to fix it.

First, he ordered practice manikin heads, the kind hairdressers used to practice. Then, he found online tutorials on the holonet. He watched them carefully, paying close attention to the stylists finger and brush movements. It was not unlike studying lightsaber technique. Both had a certain art to it.

He just needed to master it.

The first many attempts didn’t work as planned. Part of it was due to his cybernetics. They were...not made for the delicacy it took to style hair. The first few manikin heads ended up either with hair ripped out, or he’d grow so frustrated when he couldn’t get a braid right, that he’d throw the manakin off the balcony, where it fell into the lower levels of Coruscant below.

But he was determined. He would not fail in this task. He would not be so reliant on Miss Laena that he would ruin his daughter's day again like that.

He would be the master hairstylist.

It took months (and countless manikin heads) to get things to where he felt he could confidently and safely try working on Leia’s hair.

One morning, before school, he interrupted Miss Laena as she was about to help Leia get ready for school. “I have no need of your services when it comes to Leia.” He informed her confidently. “I will handle it from here.”

He did not miss the concern that flashed through the other woman, but she wisely did not say anything. “As you wish, My Lord.”

He entered Leia’s room. She was already dressed, though her hair, thankfully, was still a mess. “Where’s Miss Laena?” She asked, frowning when he was the only one there.

“I am here to fix your hair problem.” He announced confidently, spotting the brush and summoning it to his hand.

Leia did not hide her nervousness. “No, that’s okay daddy, I...I can have ugly hair today.”

“No. You will sit down and allow me to help you.”

“No--”

“If you do not let me help you, I will ground you from your dolls.” It was an unfair threat and he knew it...but he was a Sith. He’d spent an unsithly amount of time mastering the ways of the hairdresser. He was not about to let Leia stop him now.

Leia pouted, but sat down. “Be nice to my hair, daddy.” She warned as he approached, and he felt her genuine fear.

Carefully, he placed a hand on top of her head and smoothed her hair down in what he hoped was a soothing gesture...and began.

He first worked out the tangles. Carefully, in a way he knew wouldn’t hurt her. Once all the tangles were gone, he began to braid.

The trick, he found, was not to completely rely on his metal fingers. Doing so would result in failure. The trick was to use the Force for anything that was too delicate and precarious for his clumsy hands. With a mixture of the Force and his own now well-practiced hands, he managed to braid her hair into a crown.

He stepped back, satisfied. “You look like a princess.” He told her, and he meant it. It was hair that would make any royal princess jealous. He was fairly certain that Padme would have been quite proud of him had she seen it.

Leia looked in the mirror...and smiled. “Wow, daddy! You got good!”

“For you, my princess...though don’t tell anyone I did it.”

Having redeemed himself, he could have stopped there. He’d mastered enough to impress any five year old.

But he didn’t stop there.

Leia soon decided that she’d rather have him do her hair than Miss Laena (something he was secretly pleased about, though he’d never admit it). As she grew, so too did her tastes in hair. Occasionally, she’d be interested in a style he didn’t know how to do. But if she showed him what she wanted, he’d spend what little off time he had trying to figure it out. Once he’d mastered it, he’d try it out on her. Usually he was successful.

Soon, he began to savor the moments when it was just him and her. She’d sit on the chair, swinging her legs happily while he worked on her hair. Sometimes it felt like they didn’t share as many interests, but when he did her hair, it seemed like it was their own “thing.” It was unsithly, and his Master would absolutely have a heart attack if he ever found out, but he didn’t care.

Soon though, as Leia grew into a teenager, she began to need him less and less. But instead, their time together was replaced by him teaching her how to do her own hair. He’d always dreamed of teaching his children the ways of the Force, but with Sidious suspicious of that ever happening, he knew this would probably be the closest thing he could get for Leia.

For now.

One day, as Leia finished braiding her hair so that it looked like a blooming flower for a Imperial youth party, she paused. “You know. I’ve never told anyone you learned how to do hair.” She said.

“That is wise.” He tried not to think of what the media would say if they ever found out Darth Vader knew almost as much about hair as any professional hairstylist.

“Why? I mean. You’re...you.”

He looked at her for a long moment. She’d grown to be so beautiful, exactly like her mother. And he decided to be honest.

“Because your mother was not here to do it for you.” He replied. “I did not want you to miss out on that experience.”

Leia turned, taking him in for a moment. Then, with a smile, she reached out and gave him a rare hug.

He...allowed it. This time.

“Thanks dad.” She said. “You’re the best. I don’t care what anyone else says.”

He didn’t understand how him being good at hair made him the best…

But he’d accept it.

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I accept PROMPTS for this or any SW AU!

#Darth Vader #dad vader series #Dad vader #leia organa #little leia #my writing #sometimes he makes a good dad decision #fanfic #star wars fanfic #star wars

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autumn-ginkgo-leaves · 3 years

Text

Perfect Heat

Yooha x Reader. A couples’ shoot with Yooha takes a heated turn. Fluff and smut. NSFW.

You receive a video call, and when you answer it you see Yooha’s smiling face. “Master, I’ve got a modelling job for us. A couples’ shoot.”

You’re at home in your room sorting through your closet, trying to choose an outfit for the next Wannabe Challenge. “Hm? You found a job? For us?”

Yooha’s only just started modelling and he’s been living in the human world for about five minutes. He can’t have been offered anything amazing yet.

His grey eyes sparkle with reproach. “Tsk. You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, sure. But I probably don’t have time.”

A smile plays around his lips. “You’ll find time when I tell you who it’s for. Ever heard of Perfect Glow?”

Your eyes widen. Perfect Glow is one of the most exclusive perfume brands. They only use famous actors and models for their ads and the pictures are always stunning. “Are you serious? And they want both of us? That’s amazing!”

Yooha’s smile widens, confident and lazy now that he’s got your attention. It doesn’t really surprise you that he’s being offered modelling contracts that other men would kill for. The man is too handsome for his own good. “They’re launching a new perfume called Perfect Heat. I told them I’d only do it with you.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “Did you use magic on them or something?”

He laughs, a musical sound that has you smiling and your insides fluttering. “Master, my magic only works for you. I’ll tell them we’ll consider it, then?”

You throw the dress you’re holding onto the bed. “You’ll tell them yes, right now.”

Yooha frowns. “You haven’t even heard what they want from us.”

Your heart is pounding at the thought of doing a couples’ shoot with Yooha, and one for the Perfect Glow brand no less. You’ve seen dozens of their ads and they’re intimate and stylish. “What’s there to think about? They’re a great brand and this is an amazing opportunity for you.”

Yooha still hesitates. “You should probably read over the brief. Think through it carefully. You might not have the, uh, experience.” He clears his throat and his gaze slides away from the screen.

Your eyes narrow. “Are you lecturing me about experience? Thanks, but I’ve been choosing my own work for a while now. I’ll call them myself and offer to do the shoot with someone else if you don’t want to.”

Yooha suddenly looks fierce. “No way. I’m not going to let do this with another man. But read over the brief before you—”

Let you. Please. “Accept the job. Bye, foxy.” You hang up and shake your head. Being flattered by a few brand execs has gone to his head.

A few minutes later you stop by the window and gaze out onto the street. A couples’ shoot with Yooha. An excuse to be close to him without giving him too many ideas about what you do and don’t want from him, because you’re still not sure. He’s hot, but he seems dangerous to fall for.

Working with him is safe, though, and pretending to be his girlfriend for a few hours sounds like fun.

***

Three days later

You stare in horror at the black corset and tiny pair of briefs that the photographer’s assistant is holding out to you.

“You want me to wear…these?” you ask in a horrified whisper.

The assistant frowns at you. “You did read the brief, didn’t you? It was all in there. The vibe for this shoot is boudoir. Sex. Danger.”

Yooha smirks at you from over her shoulder. “Of course she read the brief. She’s a professional. Aren’t you?”

You glare at him with so much heat you’re surprised his skin doesn’t blister. “I…forgot for a second. Sure. I’ll go get changed.”

She passes you a pair of eight-inch heels, and your stomach swoops. You’ve never even worn these sorts of things playing around in your bedroom, let alone in front of a dozen people.

And Yooha.

He eyes you with interest as wardrobe people flutter around him with various shirts, holding them up against his shoulders to see how they look.

Face burning, you disappear into your dressing room. There’s a make-up artist and hairdresser and they get to work on making you ready for the shoot. The whole time they work, you look nervously at the skimpy clothing lying on the sofa and fantasise about grabbing your handbag and running away.

Finally, they leave you alone to change and you wiggle into the corset and briefs and strap your feet into the high heels. Gazing in the mirror, you moans softly, “Yooha, what the hell did you get me into?”

There’s a rush of heat behind you, and then a low whistle. “Wow. I’m seeing a new side of you.”

You lunge for a robe to wrap around your body. “Knock, why don’t you!”

“Can’t knock when it’s magic. I can only obey. Wow.” He circles you slowly, his eyes running appreciatively up and down your body. “You look…hot.”

You hesitate, wondering if he’s making fun of you. “Um. I feel kind of stupid.”

He meets your eyes in surprise. “You do? Why?”

You glance down at yourself. Your breasts are pressed high and tight and the briefs are cut away to reveal your hips. Everyone’s going to laugh at you the second you step out of this dressing room. “Because I don’t ever wear stuff like this, dummy!”

He gazes at you reproachfully, and you sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling myself.”

Yooha’s in a long-sleeved shirt and black jeans. The shirt is unbuttoned down his chest, and the fabric is almost see-through, hinting at the muscles of his biceps. The makeup artist has darkened his lashes and swept his silver hair back. He looks incredible.

“At least one of us gets to wear an actual outfit,” you grumble.

He reaches out and taps you affectionately under the chin. “Don’t worry, master. We’re dressed up, playing a part. I’ve seen you do this so often.”

You think about this, and nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He folds his arms, gazing at you. “I’m glad it’s me with you, and not some other guy.”

You feel a smile tug the corner of your mouth. “I’m glad it’s you, too.”

The way he’s looking at you is sort of…nice. Not lewd. Just softly appreciative.

He helps you into the robe and takes your hand. “Come on. Let’s go and wait out there. Keep that robe on so you don’t get cold.”

As he leads you across the set, you notice him glaring at any of the male assistants who become distracted by the sound of your high heels and stare too long at you.

Ten minutes later, the photographer comes to talk to you both, camera brandished in his hand, and gives you directions. The butterflies in your stomach are whipped into a frantic storm when you realize you’re going to have to straddle Yooha’s lap.

You remove your robe and take up your positions, Yooha sitting on a chair and you across his lap, thighs spread. It feel so unnatural and your skin crawls with self-consciousness as you realize how many people are staring at you.

“Hey,” Yooha says softly, drawing your attention back to him. “I’m here. It’s just us.”

You take a deep breath and look into his eyes. Just him. Maybe you can do this if you pretend it’s just the two of you.

The photographer calls out to Yooha, “Pull her closer. Touch her some more. This is about heat. Perfect Heat.”

Yooha raises a brow at you. Asking for permission.

“That’s not a problem is it?” the photographer asks, an edge to his voice.

You nod, and Yooha slips his hands around your waist. Large, strong hands. You feel yourself getting lost in his silver eyes as the photographer snaps photos. You’ve caught this hungry expression on Yooha’s face before, but up close, it takes your breath away.

He angles his face as if he’s about to kiss you, and heat rushes through you, from the tips of your toes to your nipples. Your thighs squeeze his hips and you rock into him, begging with him with your eyes to give you what you need.

Just you and him.

Just like you’ve thought about so many times, even if you haven’t wanted to admit it to yourself. Your intense attraction to your housemate.

Yooha’s fingers brush the lacings of the corset at your lower back and you lick your lips, certain that he’s about to pull them slowly free.

“Your hair’s blocking the shot, move it to your other shoulder,” the photographer suddenly barks.

You jump and look around. A dozen pair of eyes are staring back at you dispassionately. Everything comes crashing down around you, and you jump to your feet. This is worse, because now everyone’s looking even harder at you.

“I’m sorry, I...” As you hurry back to your dressing room, tears prickling your eyes, you vaguely hear Yooha asking for a short break.

A few minutes later, Yooha comes quietly into the dressing room, holding the robe, but everyone else is still out there. Waiting for you.

“Are you all right, master?”

He holds out the robe, and you take it from him but you don’t put it on. “Were you acting out there?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Which part?”

“The part where you looked at me like I was a persimmon and you’re a hungry fox.” If he’s not attracted to you, and everyone can tell and they’re currently out there laughing at you, you might crumple up and die.

He chuckles darkly. “I don’t have to pretend any of that, and if you don’t believe me, maybe that’s our problem.”

“What do you mean?”

His eyes grow dark with mischief. He comes toward you and plants a hand on the wall by your head. “What do you think?”

Instinctively, you reach up and splay your hands across his chest. He’s just so touchable that you wonder if he’s waving those pretty tails at you and dazzling your senses, but no. It’s just him.

His mouth dips toward yours. “Why don’t we try something?”

Your eyes are about to flutter closed. If he wants to kiss you, sure. That won’t be the craziest thing that happens today, and your whole body is practically begging for it.

Suddenly he picks you up in his arms and sits down with you on the sofa in his lap. His arms wrap around your hips and he hugs you tight against his body. He nuzzles your throat, planting kisses everywhere.

This is perfect now you’re alone, and you melt into him. A moment later, you feel something against your thighs and you gasp and look down. He’s…he’s hard.

“See?” he murmurs. “Not pretending.”

Your fingers curl through his hair at the nape of his neck. It feels amazing to be this close to him, but you have no idea what you’re supposed to do next.

As if reading your mind, he nips your lower lip with his teeth and murmurs, “Turn around. I’ll show you.”

Frowning, you do as he asks, straddling him in the other direction. Your ass is tucked against his hips. Before you realize what he’s doing, he’s lain back on the sofa, hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you up the length of his body until you’re straddling his face.

Your hands press against his stomach. “Yooha! What the hell are you doing?”

“Giving my master her throne.” He kisses you, right over your clit through your underwear.

What the hell? you mouth to yourself. Your nails dig into his flesh, but you don’t move away. You’re locked in place, wondering what he’s going to do next.

Yooha draws your underwear aside and licks you with a long stroke of his tongue. Your eyes flutter closed and your head tips back. That feels all kinds of amazing. He licks you again, and then swirls his tongue against your clit. Your breath picks up and you start to moan.

Even as you get lost in the sensations, you feel flashes of self-consciousness. He can see everything. And can he breathe?

His hum of appreciation vibrates against your inner thighs. Yeah, seems like he can breathe, but this is such a bizarre position, and you feel more exposed than ever.

“Yooha, I don’t…ohhhh.” You break off and breathe in sharply, your eyes drifting closed for a moment. He’s making your insides feel golden and you suddenly don’t want him to stop. His tongue feels incredible, lapping at your sensitive clit, and it feels even better when he moves up to delve deep inside you. The man has a strong tongue and knows how to use it.

You lean forward and stroke the bulge in the front of his jeans, and your mouth waters. Acting rather than thinking, you unbuckle his belt and unzip the jeans. When you stroke the length of his cock through his underwear, Yooha’s hands tighten on your hips and he sucks on your clit. Lost in the haze of pleasure that washes over your body, you lean forward, push the waistband of his underwear down and run your tongue along the length of him. He feels good against your tongue, hard and hot and velvety on the outside. You want nothing more than to take him in your mouth as you lose yourself in what he’s doing to you.

And so you do.

You suck lovingly up and down the length of his cock, your eyes closed. You’re getting closer and closer to your peak and your mouth moves rhythmically. Beneath your body, you feel Yooha’s breathing deepen and his flesh heat up. Needing more of him, you press back against him, sucking harder.

Yooha groans and laps hard at your clit. Your body arches hard against his as you come, moaning around his cock. As the sensations pound through you, Yooha pushes his length deeper into your mouth, and you feel your mouth flood with liquid. Surprised, you swallow it down, musky and sweet and tasting like him.

A moment later, Yooha’s head falls back, and he pants for breath. “Fuck, master. You taste like a dream.”

You sit up slowly and look over your shoulder. He’s smiling lazily at you while you wipe your mouth, his fingers threading beneath your underwear to stroke your ass.

You turn around and straddle him, your hair cascading down over his shoulder. “Yooha. You taste even better.”

You press your lips against his as his arms come around you and crush you against him. There are too many clothes between the two of you and you tug at your irritating corset. You just want to be naked with Yooha. His tongue parts you lips and slides against yours, and with one of his knees raised you rub your pussy back and forth against his thigh. He’s everything you’re feeling right now. He’s your whole world.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, and someone calls, “Break’s over in five minutes.”

You pull back in surprise, your eyes widening. You’ve forgotten completely where you are again.

Yooha mutters a curse and sits up, zipping up his jeans and buckling his belt.

Frantically, your pat down your hair and blot at your mouth. The makeup artist is going to be annoyed with you. Your lipstick has probably come off all over Yooha’s... You bite your lip and smile up at him as he smooths your hair back.

“Feel okay now, beautiful?” he asks.

You feel strange, but definitely more relaxed.

The shoot goes smoothly after that. It’s easier to focus on him and ignore everyone else around you.

Two weeks later when the ad starts appearing in magazines and on billboards, people comment over and over how good the two of you look together. It’s an amazing picture, the two of you looking deep into each other’s eyes with intense expressions, as if you’re both about to combust with need.

Even your barista recognises you both when you’re buying coffee with Yooha one morning, and she rushes to show everyone in the queue the picture of the two of you on her phone.

Yooha slings an arm around your shoulder and smirks. “Hasn’t she got a perfect glow in that picture? We really create that perfect heat.”

You shove him off with a roll of your eyes. His ego is getting so big, and the double meaning in his words makes you blush.

You head over to a table, and he follows. There’s still a smile on his face, but it’s filled with meaning. He glances at the oversize long-sleeved top you’re wearing. “Have you been getting chilly lately, master? The weather’s changing.”

You hug your arms around yourself as if the winter cold really is getting to you, and nibble at your thumbnail. Your mind is back on that sofa with Yooha while he licks you in all the places that feel amazing.

“Just call me if your get cold, master. I know how to heat you up again.” Yooha takes your thumb out of your mouth and kisses it. “And I miss your taste.”

You miss his, too. You watch him sip his coffee, wondering how early you can go to bed tonight without the others thinking its suspicious, and whisper his name in the darkness.

Thank you for reading! You can send requests for fics to my ask box. At the moment I’m writing for Wannabe Challenge and LoveUnholyc. Find all my finished fics here.

#wannabe challenge #yooha #fanfic

125 notes · View notes

chemicalpink · 3 years

Text

TEEN IDLE ♡ MIN YOONGI

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: SMUT (with plot *question mark*)

Warnings: unprotected sex, public sex (inside a bathroom at a party), kinda power dynamics bc Yoongi’s a CEO

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: AHHHHHH I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE OG SO THIS IS A REPOST Missing Boongi hours but lowkey also horny hour. This took various unexpected turns but it ended up being just what I had first pictured, perhaps a second part may follow after I’m done with the series. I would love to hear your thoughts on this! As usual! Stay safe and enjoy this lil something!

Summary: I want the world to go away. I want to be a real fake. Baby, don’t you wish you’d been a prom queen fighting for the title instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible?

As a producer, Yoongi would like to say that he’s got an eye for it. Like that time he stopped his friend Namjoon, now his producing partner, from pursuing a vocalist career when the kid was around 15 and instead showed him the paradise that holds being a rapper (and man, did the kid got some talent for it) or how he is in charge of Kim Seokjin’s full career now that both him and Namjoon got a pretty stable and constantly growing entertainment company in Seoul.

So yeah, you could say he was quite pleasantly surprised when he met you.

You had been working at the company for some time, he was sure of that since they weren’t that big of a company and he had most probably interviewed you back then, but either now there was something that wasn’t there before, or he was slowly but surely losing his touch for spotting upcoming artists.

“Hey Y/N? Yoongi was asking to see you in his office” a girl that you recognised from somewhere on the fifth floor of the company said as she placed down her working papers next to you, with you nodding thanks to her way before standing up and making your way towards the elevators. Min Yoongi was the mastermind behind the whole company, so to say that having him ask for you made you nervous was the understatement of the century. You had only encountered him a few times after your initial interview, here and there, dishevelled hair, pouty lips at some ungodly hour in the morning, most probably from sleeping in his studio (which Namjoon said he did quite often). The elevator dings to let you know you’re in the penthouse level, trying your hardest to keep your heart from beating loudly whether from him being your boss, office crush (enabled by Kim Namjoon thank you very much) or both, you push the small button on the right for a few seconds before a buzzing sound is heard, unlocking the door and coming face to face with Yoongi’s back, carefully making your way to the nearest chair, across from him, on a glass desk.

“Y/N? right?” he said as he turned around to face you, stoic face in place, just the way he liked to carry himself out there; you nod a little disappointed, who can blame you if you were at least hoping for a small smile from him seen as he personally asked for you “Y/N, it gets hard to remember everyone sometimes, which department are you on?”

“Oh I’m-uh, just an intern, I help here and there” and may the ground swallow you up after the fakest laugh you’ve laughed in your life, to which Yoongi smirked at.

“Let’s say, I’m looking for a personal assistant” he trailed off, locking his gaze on your face as if to watch your every gesture, and from the lightning, you could see your reflection on his blue light glasses that refused to fall off even when barely standing at the tip of his nose “Would you be up for the challenge, Y/N?” and you knew, deep down, that his offering had little to do with your abilities, seen as you were only on an internship, barely fresh out of college, and being the PA of a very famous, very busy, CEO of an entertainment company was indeed a challenge, to say the least; which then lead you to assume that Min Yoongi had much more different reasons for giving the newest intern such a high position so yeah, perhaps with better judgement you suppose you would have said no, but Min Yoongi was a respected man that was constantly under the spotlight so there was nothing to worry about. Right?

And you sure did, envious whispers and glances from most of the company aside from how fast you ascended in the business hierarchy, being producer Min Yoongi’s personal assistant was quite a wild ride, something in the back of your mind had told you that it might even be a fun one, given that he was just two years older than you and most of his and Namjoon’s signed artists were always invited everywhere, sadly, Min Yoongi turned out to be that type of person that would only go out if it was strictly business, while Namjoon handled year-end award shows and afterparties, Yoongi maned the board meetings and the correspondent (and mostly boring) New Years company dinner. Coming to think of it perhaps it would have been much more fun being Namjoon’s personal assistant. Or Seokjin’s hairdresser. But may your daddy issues and love for power dynamics of seeing that man dressed up in a black suit, glasses perched on his nose and Rolex on his wrist while you imagine the most inappropriate things to think about your boss win, right?

So yeah, perhaps over the months it had become fairly monotone the way you just schedule meetings, lunch and organise files for Yoongi, nothing out of the ordinary (or out of your wet dreams that no one should know of) up until yet again the end of the year came around and Yoongi, in full CEO mode, was supposed to attend a gala with the stockholders and sponsors of the company, which, from what you and anyone working there could tell, Yoongi was pretty much begging Namjoon to spare him from going. You approached the door to his office while the younger was still there, smirking at his business partner

“Yoongi-hyung, you can’t just evade them like the plague for the rest of your life”

Yoongi’s eyes closed in on Namjoon’s face with a challenge in it as he straightened his posture “Just watch me”

Namjoon just rolled his eyes and let out an airy laugh “Do whatever you want hyung, but remember the company please” and as fast as that he was gone out the door.

You, of course, having grown fond of the man in front of you, had your brain short circuit as you blurted out “Love problems?” trying to keep it cool, pretend that deep down you weren’t feeling your heartbreaking at your office/boss crush having an interest in someone that clearly isn’t you while he turned to look at you in a funny way, making you feel as if you had just started a conversation that was going nowhere, that he didn’t want to have with you “Sorry, I overstepped”

“Ah, no it’s fine, yeah, you could say that, yeah” he cleared his throat as he fixed his uptight posture and god did the man had to do the bare minimum to get your fantasies going “My ex is going to be at the gala and I just- don’t wanna seem like there is nothing more in my life other than work”

“Well that is pretty much all you have going on in your life though” you joked and effectively made him crack a lopsided smile at you “But I would admit for a second there I thought it would be funny to see you pulling a fake dating card to make your ex jealous”

“A what?”

“You know, an arm candy, be the centre of attention, the new item, make your ex think there’s a lot they don’t know going on in your life” you laughed to yourself at the image of a man like Yoongi pulling a high school scheme in the middle of a company gala, that would surely make the weirdest thing you could witness in your life. CEO, Min Yoongi, pretends to date someone just to get his ex jealous. That would be a hell of a headline.

But your inner image came to a halt as you turned to your boss and felt something shift in the air, quite indescribable but his feline eyes scrutinizing you sitting on the armrest of the sofa near his desk, his lip clasped between his teeth for a few seconds too long “And you think you’d be able to pull it off?”

You swore your heart skipped a beat at that “Well- I wasn’t...really referring to myself” your eyes unable to hold his stare any second longer “..sir”

“You have quite a childish mind, Y/N” he laughed lightly as he took his phone in his hand, the heavy air dissipating from the office “But I must admit, you got me at the textbook high school jealousy act, I was never the type to do it back in the day”

“Yeah, it kind of is childish” your mind was racing a hundred miles per second, unable to decide whether to take him calling you childish as an insult or him suggesting to do it and have you with him as his partner in crime as an insinuation of reciprocating your feelings.

“Well, Y/N I sent you the gala info, sleep on it and let me know your plan, okay? consider it work stuff” The guts of this man to disarm you with a glance and a few words was beyond incredible “Oh and while you’re at it, can you tell Seokjin-hyung to come to my office for a second?” And that was your cue to leave. Just like that. As if he didn’t just basically asked you to attend a yearly gala with him. To make his ex jealous.

.-.

As it turns out, there is a worse thing than to feel butterflies in your stomach due to your boss wearing a dark suit and that is having an overwhelming need to kiss him stupid while he just bleached his hair, dressed in a tailored grey suit and pulling up in a sports car to your apartment building as you wait outside, dressed in something that feels so expensive you would have to work a lifetime and still wouldn’t be able to buy again if it wasn’t for Yoongi sending it to your house sometime in the morning.

“Oh it fits,” he says as a greeting as you round the car and get in after fixing your dress and smiling at him, trying (and most probably failing) to conceal every racing thought in your head and feeling in the bottom of your tummy.

It was a very predictable silent ride with just a lo-fi tune coming from the radio as he drove both of you through the streets and ended up in a secluded real estate area deep in Seocho-gu “You know, I kept thinking this whole idea was stupid and so so childish but Joonie says that now is the time to let loose before I’m actually old” he turns to look at you at the red light, shamelessly scanning you up and down and may you thank the universe for taking that acting class back in college, mustering up both knowledge and courage to get you through tonight, playing the part. You may also thank that unlike Yoongi, you had your fair share of teenage escapades and jealousy acts back in the day.

“It’s going to be fun, oppa” you say the last part teasingly sexy just to watch him react to it and both of you burst out laughing. Him muttering something about getting dragged into the whole situation.

For the most part, the gala consists mostly of you smiling and greeting people while Yoongi talks to them about things that your sober brain couldn’t comprehend, and as the champagne flutes kept coming, stock numbers and share percentages just flew by you as you stuck to your boss’ side. And listen, one can only hold so much liquid for so long. And the whole gale fiasco seems to extend until the end of times. Now you can understand just why Yoongi practically has to drag himself to these things.

“I’ll be back in a sec, I’m going to the restroom” you whisper to him as you lean into him, smiling your fakest but brightest smile at the man in front of him

“Sure thing, sweetheart” he replies back, eyes glistening and you have to pretend that the nickname just didn’t affect you enough for your legs to give out before walking away.

That quick face refreshing was not nearly enough to stop you brain shortcutting again at the sight in front of you, a very notably awkward Min Yoongi and a bubbly dark-haired lady laughing non stop at him (or with him, but he clearly wasn’t getting the joke) and you instantly had to channel your inner cheap rom-com actress to get the poor man out of his misery. Not the greatest plan that’s a given. Kind of on the childish side, as Yoongi liked to put it. But hopefully, it would do the trick.

“Yoongi-oppa! I thought you had left the party!” Yoongi turned his face to your higher-pitched voice in disbelief before you clung to his side, the girl flinching and quickly stepping back, Yoongi’s face just amused at your weird approach and decision to do aegyo in the middle of a business gala. Not that he was complaining, you were definitely playing the part. Him soon realising that he had to play the part too.

“Y/N, baby, this is Ara, my ex” he said as he slipped his left hand around your waist, you faking surprise and extending a hand to her very surprised face.

Not having enough of the way Yoongi seemed to enjoy her starstruck face, you decided to step it up a notch. “Ara, I’m so sorry, I’ll steal Yoongi from you for a second time, okay?” if her face was anything to go by, she was either about to implode or become a tomato, which to be honest was most probably the first one. Yoongi bit his lip amused, trying to hold his laugh in and ignore the way you two had pretty much caused a small scene that went on for the expecting eyes as you dragged the man away from his ex and very much openly into the women’s bathroom.

“I thought I was going to faint for a second there,” you said as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, walking up to click the door to the small bathroom closed. You definitely needed a second “Yoongi?”

“Oh no, totally, she was most probably plotting your funeral right there” he smiled that gummy smile everyone knew he had reserved for his acceptances speeches on best production at you and your heart did a whole backflip inside your chest “But that was also hot as shit, Y/N” now that right there was a novelty, Yoongi behaving his age or a few years younger, language and all, away from the whole Oscar-worthy act you two had pulled.

“Oh so he curses”

You could feel the air shift again like that time inside his office, the air heavy with something recognizable as lust but the reality far away from it. Your boss was on the other end of it. An invisible line you knew was stupid to cross. “You just wait until I get a string of curses out of you, Y/N”

His eyes seemed even more feline-like as he stared intently at you a few steps away from him, your weight on the small counter, reciprocating his lustful stare. “Well doesn’t that sounds like a challenge, boss?”

Something inside him snapped and in a second he had his lips on yours, hands keeping you the closest to his body, tongue tracing your mouth as ragged breaths filled the room, his mouth making its way down your jawline and latching onto your exposed skin just beside your shoulder, big hands cupping your ass from beneath your dress as you let out a whine.

“You’ll have to be quiet for me, doll, as much as I am enjoying the whole reckless adolescent ride, I would like to stay clear from any sex scandal” You simply nodded as he placed you on top of the counter, dress bunched up on around your waist as his skilled fingers began playing with your clothed folds, wetting them with your already dripping juices “You have no idea how much I’ve dreamt about this”

Your head whipped back towards the mirror as the air hit your cunt when he removed your panties, ringed fingers teasing your entrance, his free hand pocketing the small thong inside his slacks, your hands gripping his hair tighter every time he pressed your nerve bundle against his palm. Under the whole lust haze, still, a bit conscious of your surroundings a door clicking open, a voice on the other side and you had half a mind to back both of you into a bathroom stall as you heard steps approaching, turning back to signal Yoongi to stay quiet. The whole teenage breaking loose taking a whole real adult implication of getting caught and ruining the company’s reputation. But he didn’t seem to mind as he pressed himself against you, his hard cock grazing your exposed ass as you were pressed against the door, Yoongi rubbing himself on you and you could feel him smile against your shoulder.

“I’ve let you lead me Y/N, but right now you’ll just have to keep quiet for me doll, be a good girl for daddy, okay?” You could only inhale sharply midway into trying to tell him how much of a crazy idea this whole situation was as you felt the tip of his cock against your entrance, him expertly placing your leg at a somewhat awkward angle around his hips in order to have better access. Him taking a few seconds for you to adjust after inserting himself whole, moving at an experimental pace that had you clawing at the door in search of some support from the thrusting but finding none as he set a faster pace, a moan threatening to fall out of your lips every two seconds, your mind hazy and exploding with every possible feeling at the realization that Min Yoongi, your boss, whom you have thirsted over for moth on end, was fucking you stupid at a public gala, inside the bathroom, with people just outside the stall, the thought enough to make you clench around him and have him groaning lightly at the feeling.

“I thought I told you to be good” he muttered against your skin before pushing you down further so he could balance his pace while grabbing your hips, deepening his reach and hitting your g spot each time, a hand coming down between your legs to play with your clit to throw you against the edge at the same time as him, legs trembling and barely keeping you up if it weren’t for him holding you in place.

“I’m not sure I’d call this a remembrance of being a ten idle,” you said as a way to lighten the post-sex awkwardness that had built up as you cleaned yourself and tried to make yourselves look somewhat presentable, “I thought I had locked the door”

“Oh no, you did, I unlocked it though,” he said, a cheeky smile to accompany his words and gummy smile, “Thought it would be fun to experience the whole high school experience, now come on, we’ve still got the whole walk of shame in the middle of an international gala as a bonus activity to this”

#networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #yoongi smut #yoongi one shot #bts smut #bts imagine #yoongi imagine #bts x reader #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #yoongi scenario

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prorevenge · 4 years

Text

He Ruined My Sister's Only Birth Experience So I Made Sure He'd NEVER Forget Her

Kinda my revenge, kinda my sisters, both of us really proud. This is gonna be long so TL;DR at bottom. Here's our cast:

My sister - we'll call her "Sara" for the story Sister's Ex-BF - "Paul" Ex-BFs New Wife - "Jane" Ex-BFs Parents - "Mr. And Mrs. Doe" Oldest brother - "Zeke" Our parents And Me :)

When I was 14 and my oldest sister, Sara, was 22 we found out that she was pregnant with Paul, her boyfriend of 4 years. They immediately got engaged and they were really happy. For a time. Sara had a horrible pregnancy, about 16-18 weeks in the "wonder of creating a human life" evaporated within her. She developed hyperemesis (which if you don't know is really bad morning sickness), she was constantly in pain, she developed gestational diabetes, and just all around hated the experience. Around this time Paul, the then-fiance, started getting sick of the complaining. I believe the argument was "your body is built to do this, it can't be that bad".

Sara was due around Valentine's Day and Paul's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Doe, were very excited, both about the grandkid and the fact that he could be born on a holiday. She was very against that and really really hoped that her son wouldn't be born on a holiday, even one as small as Valentine's day (her birthday sometimes falls on Easter and she hates it) because it might make him feel that "his day" isn't very much about him. Well, Mrs. Doe says something like "Well if you name him Valentine or Valentino then that'll make the day even more special to him!" Again, sister HATED the idea. She thought it was tacky, he'd be bullied for it, and just really didn't like the name Valentino. Paul loved it, but agreed to go with a more average name like Daniel or Jared.

Fast forward to February and she was ready to Get This Over With. Sara had officially been put on bed rest because while standing or walking her blood pressure took unexpected spikes and dips. I look back now and goodness do I feel bad for her. She was doing her best to avoid giving birth on Valentine's day because, again, she didn't want him born on a holiday. Unfortunately, births happen when they happen and that baby was going to come on Valentines day whether she wanted him to or not.

I remember waiting out in the waiting room with my dad, brothers, and Paul who couldn't stand to be in the delivery room because it was "gross". I was so mad that he could have gone in but wouldn't because he thought my sister was "gross" while giving birth, whereas I had to stay outside because I was "too young" to go in with my mom and other sister. Dad went home with the youngest two brothers while the oldest, Zeke, stayed to watch me because I refused to leave. 16 hours after Sara went into labor my little nephew was officially part of the family on the evening of Valentine's day.

Unfortunately, Sara was not okay. She had to have an emergency cesarean section and while doing the operation discovered that the back of her uterus (facing her spinal cord) had a very large and very severe (thankfully non-cancerous) tumor. When I say large I mean it was twice the size of a standard uterus. The doctors were shocked and didn't understand why nobody had noticed it on an ultrasound. It accounted for her severe backpain and blood pressure issues. The doctors immediately went in for more surgery to remove the tumor, but sadly ended up having to perform a full hysterectomy. This meant that my nephew would be Sara's only child.

Now while Sara was in for surgery Paul was taking care of everything baby related to make sure his son was okay. In my 14 year old self's memory I remember him being suitably distraught, but I didn't really pay him much mind and spent my time in the waiting room with my mother and other sister. Zeke, however, wanted to be a good future brother-in-law and make sure that Paul was okay. He found Paul filling out the baby paperwork on his own looking (in my brother's words) "like he had not a single worry in his mind". Zeke asked why Paul didn't wait for Sara to fill out the paperwork as she should have been put of surgery within the hour, and Paul said that he just wanted her to get her rest and heal. That checked out with Zeke, as he was 16 and didn't know any better at the time.

Now I know what you're probably thinking. "No, he wouldn't. He knows how much she hates that name. And still, she'd need to sign the paperwork too!" My fellow peoples of Reddit, I regret to inform you that Paul forged Sara's signature on the paperwork and waited until she was out of surgery to hand said paperwork over. My sweet nephew, that was born on Valentine's day, was named "Valentino" on his first official birth certificate. I still to this day don't know why Paul and his family were so insistent about the name. He had even picked out a different one with my sister! And before you ask, no he was never brought up on forgery charges because his parents were "witnesses" to her signing the papers, even though they only got there at the last minute.

So Sara dumped him and got her son's name changed a month later. She was willing to do split custody with him because that's her son's father and she wants the kid to know him, but Paul vanished and she never heard anything back, which seemed weirdly out of character to us. Until a mutual friend on Facebook was tagged in his wedding pictures 6 months later. Paul had apparently started cheating on her not long after she got pregnant. Sara was livid but there wasn't much she could do so she filed for child support and continued to liver her best life.

Until 6 years later. This is where the revenge starts, my friends. So Sara has been a single mother for the past 6 years and has been amazing at it. At this point in my career I've been a hairdresser for about 8 months at our local GreatClips. I'm working one day and who is seated before me but Jane, Paul's wife, herself. I take her back for a trim and she clearly has no idea who I am. That adds up because a mutual friend that still keeps in contact with Paul said that Jane doesn't know a thing. She has no idea about Sara, that she was the other woman, or that Paul actually has a kid that he's been (infrequently) paying child support for. She's in the dark on it all.

I told myself not to be an ass and treat her like a normal customer, which I did. Now at this point, Jane was heavily pregnant, so a lot of our conversation was about that. She loved being pregnant but it was hard, her husband was so unsympathetic (big shocker), and she was due in 10 weeks and they still hadn't picked out a name for their baby girl.

Ladies and gentlepeoples, this was my chance.

I asked what kind of name she was looking for and she said "I want something unique and unusual, but not ridiculous like Brayntleigheigh" (you know the ones I'm talking about) and Paul had suggested so many already and she didn't like ANY of them. So I, conniving little weasel I am, said "what about Sara?"

My sister's name isn't actually "Sara" she was named after an older family member that passed not long after she was born, but there was no female equivalent for his name so our parents created one. It's a beautiful name and just what Jane was looking for.

She loved it, she stuck by it, and I found out by stalking her Facebook months later that she had put her foot down about it and that was their daughter's name. Now Paul has a daughter with his ex's name to remind him every day about her (and to also remind him to pay his ******* child support).

Little nephew is 10 years old now with a new name and no contact with his biological father, though we do still sometimes call him Val as a family nickname. He likes it but doesn't want to bring it to school so it's staying a family nickname. Sara pretends to hate when we call him that, in a joking way. As long as he likes it she doesn't have a problem with it. And she's seeing a new guy who's really great and like a father to Val. :)

TL;DR: My sister's baby daddy forged her signature on paperwork while she was in surgery to name their son a name that she had been avidly against from the beginning, then broke all contact when she dumped him and married the girl he was cheating on her with while she was pregnant. 6 years later I meet his wife and convince her to name her daughter my sister's name because the wife has no idea my sister and her son exist.

(source) story by (/u/AngelGuideIndi)

#prorevenge #by /u/AngelGuideIndi #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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whichstoodonrockyshores · 3 years

Text

Chapter Seventy-Eight

(Gay and Ham is @alex-fa-ch ‘s)

“I’m sorry I haven’t called you, Ham,” Wy said, leaning into the table as he talked to Hamilton over the phone. Enéas was making breakfast for the three of them, as Wy talked.

“It’s okay. How’ve you been?” They asked with a yawn. It sounded like they’d just woken up, to be honest. He sighed.

“I’ve been alright. Enéas has been stayin’ with me for a while… two months, I’m pretty sure?”

“Huh. That’s neat. How’s Chey?”

“She’s good. Gettin’ good grades!” Wy exclaimed. Hamilton smiled a bit to themself, glad to hear things were alright with Wy.

“So… how are things with Enéas?” Hamilton asked, knowing that Wy would probably deflect this question. He just sputtered for a moment, before walking out of the kitchen and sitting on his bed. He sighed.

“... things are good. Ham I… I think I’m in love with him.” Wy explained. Hamilton almost choked on their water when he said that. They weren’t expecting that when they’d set them up.

“That’s great. So have you asked him out? Are you guys a couple?” They asked. Wy paused for a moment.

“No, I don’t think so. Maybe…” he muttered softly.

“You should ask him out, then, Wy.”

“... Ham, do you remember when I came over in the ’60s? When I stayed for a year?” Wy asked, changing the subject rather quickly. Hamilton paused for a moment, before saying:

“Of course I do. What about it?” They said, remembering how bad that year was for Wy.

“... that guy. You remember him. His… his sister came over.” He explained quietly.

“Oh Wy, I’m sorry. I should’ve been there-“

“No, it’s okay- I don’t need you to be here. I’ll be alright it was just…” Wy paused again, before sighing and realizing that he’d said too much. He was a bit upset, realizing he’d probably worried Hamilton. “Nevermind. I’ve gotta go…” he said.

“Wy, we could-“ Hamilton started before he hung up. He felt like an asshole for doing that, but he didn’t want to talk about it any further. He went out to the kitchen and sat down for breakfast, noticing that Enéas had made eggs and bacon for him. It was pretty good, and Wy finished the entire plate.

“Thanks, Enéas.” He said with a smile, looking up at him. Enéas just took his hand and sat in the chair next to him.

“No problem,” Enéas said, leaning over and kissing Wy’s cheek. Wy sighed and rested his head on Enéas’ shoulder. He was still pretty tired. He smiled and muttered something unintelligible, his voice too quiet to hear. He seemed content, though, as Enéas lifted him and brought him to the couch.

“I love you,” Enéas said, giving Wy a quick peck. Wy sighed and nodded. Enéas just looked away from him, wrapping an arm around him. He let out a small sigh before saying: “Why don’t you ever say it back?”

“Hm?” Wy said, turning his head to look at Enéas.

“You never say that you love me,” Enéas said.

“I don’t love you. I don’t love no one.” Wy said, also looking away.

“That’s the thing I don’t like about you. You never admit anything to yourself. You’re a liar and you know it.” Enéas said, his obvious frustration clear in his voice.

“I ain’t a fuckin’ liar!” He exclaimed, seemingly on the verge of yelling.

“Yes, you are! You wanna be straight sooo fucking bad Wy, but you aren’t! At least I can admit to myself that I’m not straight!” Enéas said back, taking his arm away.

“I am fuckin’ straight!! Don’t tell me that I’m not! It’s my sexuality!” He yelled, obviously mad.

“There it is again! You’re a damn liar! Be honest for once!”

“FINE! I’ll be fuckin’ honest! I love you so much! I do! And I hate it! I don’t wanna be in love with you! I don’t wanna love anyone again!” Wy yelled, as he turned away and walked out the door, and slammed it closed

Wy sighed, leaning over his porches railing. He lit a cigarette, trying to calm himself down again. He didn’t last long before breaking out into sobs, holding his head with his other hand. He felt awful about himself again. Why did he yell like that? He shouldn’t have gotten so mad. He eventually calmed down enough to get in his truck and make his way to a hair salon, of all places. He sat down and grabbed a magazine, looking at all the pretty pictures.

Eventually, he was told to come to the front. He grabbed a few new magazines and sat down on the chair.

“Hey, mister.” The hairdresser said.

“Hello. I want a perm.” He said, looking at the magazine already. He really didn’t know what to expect from this, but the woman looked rather surprised.

“Oh. Well, you're lucky today isn’t a busy day, sir. Usually you’d have to schedule an appointment for this.” She explained.

“Oh. I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll be sure to do that next time.” He said, and she just sighed. For the next few hours, the lady and Wy had some very interesting conversations. She said that he was the first man who’d ever asked for a perm at this salon. He was a bit surprised, but he didn’t care too much. He was busy staring at the pretty guys in this magazine. He walked out a few hours later, his perm done. The lady told him to wait a few days before getting it wet, and Wy was very glad he had showered this morning now. He hoped that it would at least look decent, as he’d spent over 100 dollars on it.

He sighed as he pulled up to his house, knowing that Enéas would be waiting for him inside. He hoped that he wouldn’t be mad at him still, or worried… he just got out of the car, and took a deep breath before opening the door. He saw that Enéas was just sitting on the couch, and he turned his head to look at Wy entering the door.

“Enéas, I’m sorry-“ he started, before Enéas ran up to him and hugged him tightly. They just hugged in silence for a few minutes, before sinking to the ground and holding each other.

“I was worried, bee. I’m sorry for what I said. I’ll try and make it up to you, okay?” He said, looking at Wy for a few seconds, before realizing that his hair looked pretty different. He was a little shocked, but he didn’t mind that much. “And your new hair is nice.”

Wy stayed quiet for a bit, before leaning in and kissing Enéas. Enéas happily kissed back. When they pulled away, Wy let out a small sigh.

“...I love you, honey. I should’ve said it sooner… I just didn’t know it mattered to you.”

“It’s okay, bee. I love you too.” Enéas said, leaning in and giving Wy one last kiss before picking him up and carrying him to the bedroom. They ended up just falling asleep in each other’s arms, as the day had been quite exhausting for both of them.

#abuse mention #wyzil #countryhumans #ocs #my ocs #Wy #WLS #Enéas #Hamilton #friends ocs

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nadiestar · 4 years

Note

how about human au!moceit where some people (other sides perhaps) only know one half of the couple and assume that his partner is similar to him. so theyre very surprised when they meet the other half of the couple and hes seemingly his polar opposite. bonus points if the people get to see glimpses of a side of the half they know that they never anticipated existed

Hey! Thank you for the request! Sorry it took me so long, it was my first time writing a human au and I hope it's okay^^

I've also put it on AO3

“I can't believe we still haven't met your lucky special someone! How long have you been dating again? Five months?” Roman said dramatically as he walked backwards in front of his bubbly friend.

Patton shrugged his shoulders, his happy expression unfading.

“Stop pestering him about it Roman. He must figuratively be fed up with the topic,” Logan sighed and pulled Roman a little to the side so he didn't walk into a street lamp.

Roman winked as a thank at Logan but then quickly shot back: “Don't talk over Pat! He's able to tell me to shut up about his boyfriend if he needs me to.”

“Have to agree there, Lo,” Patton chimed in cheerily. “And I really don't mind it. He's just such a darling. I love you guys being so curious about him.”

“For being so keen on us asking questions about him, you surely provide very little information about his person. Roman step to the left, there's a mailbox.”

“What? You know plenty about him!” Patton disagreed and turned to the left into the little cafe where they were headed.

“If knowing that he's the cutest, sweetest and most adorable being you ever met counts as plenty, then sure,” Roman said slightly frustrated. “If not, we know kinda nothing about him but that. I mean how does he even look like?”

“What does he do for work?” Logan said and pulled the chair out for Patton at their usual table before he sat down himself.

“Yes, and where does he live? What are his hobbies?”

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Patton appeased and watched his two far too protective and curious friends shut up for the moment.

Just then a waiter came to their table and the three ordered their dinner. It was a tradition for them to come here every Friday and eat together for the last four years. Since then Logan and Patton worked at the same school complex, Patton as homeroom teacher for 2nd graders and Logan as history teacher for 8th graders, and Roman had opened his dance school close to the premises. They had known each other for far longer but only since then they finally got their tight-knitted comradery back.

“I guess you really don’t know that much about him. But I just much rather had you guys meet him directly and ask him all of those questions himself. It doesn’t feel right to talk over him, you know?” Patton explained and gave Logan his puppy eyed look.

That, despite Logan always denying it, had its usual very effective effect and the stern-faced man became lenient.

“It is understandable that you wouldn’t want to talk over him but…” Logan started and shot a look over to Roman who promptly picked the statement up.

“You seem to be so serious about this guy, Patty. And we just want to be sure he’s just amazing enough for you. You really don’t deserve another heartbreak, you know?”

Patton’s smile deflated a bit. Yes, he has been through enough, hadn’t he? Maybe he could let himself have some fun with this, as a treat.

And with that slightly mischievous thought in mind Patton offered to both of his friends now again with smile: “I get that. I could bring him over, now that he’s back from his last job… Ro would you mind if I’d introduce him to you all at the little party you and your brother throw tomorrow?”

Roman was quick to agree and the three dropped the topic in exchange of gossiping about noisy parents they had to deal with the last week.

___

Virgil put the soda down next to the fridge how Remus had instructed. He had brought it along because the hairdresser had asked him too, as he had too little time to go to the store and make everything ready for the party they were had tonight. Well, party was not the right word for it.

It was a little celebration for Remus and Roman, who finally had been able to afford an okay flat and get away from their old neighbourhood. Both had invited their friends and it was a first for Virgil to actually meet his friend’s twin and in extension his friends.

“Anything else I can help you with, Rem?” Virgil asked and leaned against the doorsill as Remus filled some chips in a bowl.

“Nah! You’re good! I think I’ve got everything done for later. Now we can just chill and relax until my brother’s turning up,” Remus said and ushered Virgil into the living room.

Remus came after him in a bit and put the chips in the middle of the coffee table and flopped down on the couch next to Janus. The man with the bowler hat glanced up from his phone, elegantly slid it in his pocket and then addressed his friends.

“Apologize me not helping more,” he said and looked over to Virgil, who pushed Janus’s crutch a little to the right so he could sit down in the beanbag.

“No worries man. After such a long flight anybody’d be tired. And it’s not like I did much more than you,” Virgil responded and barely caught the soda bottle Remus threw over to him.

Remus snickered as Virgil have him a pissed look while Janus smirked. Then the he told Janus: “Also, it’s just nice having you around for this! It will be fun to annoy my goody-two-shoes brother with you!”

Janus grin got a little more mischievous and he wanted to answer when suddenly Virgil took over the word.

“So, who exactly is your brother bringing along? Like are it a lot of people?”

“Don’t fret worrywart. It’s only two guys and the boyfriend of one of them. And he said that the one without boyfriend asked the same thing so I doubt we’re going to be loud and wild tonight.”

“What a pity. And I had hoped I’d be able to show you all my sick dance moves,” Janus deadpanned.

Both snickered at his comment and they chatted for a while as the afternoon progressed. They talked about how Virgil’s thrift store had been going the last month and what kind of people had come to Janus’s readings oversees. As usual a bit of bickering ensued and eventually the conversation reached its usual topic.

“So,” Remus said and wiggled his eyebrows, “how happy has your lover been having you back? Already had time for a quickie?”

Janus rolled his eyes and faltered a bit as he responded: “I’ve only come back yesterday and I was dead beat so – No quickie.”

“Oooh. What a disappointment for your Casanova,” Virgil teased and watched Janus fidgeting in his seat.

“He was quite understanding, thank you very much. And sex is by far not all we do together.”

“Really?” Virgil bounced back and shot an amused look to Remus, who was just as amused by their friend’s defensiveness. “It’s all you ever talk about when it comes to him. So, it’s not our fault for jumping to the assumption that that’s all you too are after.”

Janus mumbled something indistinctively and flicked his hand before he shot Virgil a dooming look, which left Virgil utterly unimpressed.

“He is very dear to me and – well of all partners I had in the bast he certainly is the most remarkable one,” Janus stated but didn’t get any further as the doorbell rang and the door got unlocked by a very loud and energetic Roman who just had gotten home from work.

Janus and Virgil quickly looked over to the tall tanned man. He was just as slim as his brother, dark curly hair and soft brown eyes. He also was smiling but it seemed to be much less demented but a bit more flashing. Also, there was now terrible moustache over his lips which also was a very distinguishing feature for Remus.

“Hello gentlemen! It’s a pleasure to meet you all!” Roman said with a slight bow, turned with an immediate decrease of charm and flair to Remus and asked: “Have you already offered them something to drink? And you didn’t ask them to help out right? They’re our guests!”

“Jeez. You’re acting like mum!” Remus pouted and the two brothers started to bicker for a moment before Roman excused himself and said he had to change clothes.

“He’s quite the character,” Virgil said with furrowed brows as Roman disappeared in the hallway and Remus let out a huff and then a weak laugh.

“Sure is, and it’s a pest. But rather have him around than not.”

All three silently nodded at that and then Remus got up. He asked them if they wanted coffee and went into the kitchen to make some. Meanwhile Roman came back into the living room and properly introduced himself to his two guests. They had met each other before but only in passing, when one of them dropped Remus off after a long night back in the days when he still was working as a barkeeper. In the not so easy days, but that was now over and they could focus on the present.

They got along fairly well, Roman seemed a little stuck up but knowing about Remus’s past both Janus and Virgil could put one and one together and knew that it was probably just a façade he put up until he knew he could trust them well enough. And they could respect that. After a moment Remus joined them again, a coffee for Janus, Virgil and Roman at the ready and a tea for himself. He was quick to poke fun at Roman and Janus had no problem playing into the teasing and getting a few mock-offended gasps from Roman.

“When are your guests coming?” Remus asked Roman and looked over to the clock they had hanging on the wall.

“Lo is always punctual on the minute. Well, maybe a minute earlier or so but he’ll be here at seven. Patty’s gonna be late. He can’t help it,” Roman answered and shrugged.

Remus nodded at the answer and asked if he would come and help him getting dinner ready. Roman agreed and the two let Janus and Virgil entertain themselves for the next few minutes. And one minute before seven the door rang and Remus instructed Virgil out from the kitchen to get the door. With a huff Virgil got up and opened the door.

A black-haired man in a navy polo shirt and dark jeans stood in front of the door and adjusted his glasses as he saw who had opened the door.

“You’re Roman’s friend?” it came from Virgil and the man nodded quickly.

He then added helpfully: “Yes, I’ve met him when he gave a dance course in our school-” He stretched his hand out – “Logan. I assume you are an acquaintance of his brother?”

“Got that right Logan. I’m Virgil. Come in. They’re in the kitchen,” Virgil said hoping to sound not too anxious.

Logan followed and looked at the two strangers in the room. Virgil was a small man with brightly died purple hair, wearing a worn-out sweater with purple patches and black skinny jeans and had apparently known Remus since college, as he soon learnt. The other man, Janus as he introduced himself, was a man of average height and blond hair, wearing a black turtleneck sweater and slacks. Logan recognized him soon as a rather-well known YA author and got into a conversation about literature. Virgil listened amused to their bantering and shot a lopsided grin at Remus when he came out of the kitchen to greet Logan properly.

“Jay, can you come for a second? Roman needs you to taste the sauce to make sure it’s not too spice for your fragile little togue,” Remus asked his friend who got up with a huff.

“I am not fragile!” Janus hissed and walked to the kitchen as Remus rolled his eyes at his dramatics.

“I didn’t say that,” Remus mumbled and then inquired what Logan wanted to drink and brought him some soda from the kitchen.

As Remus gave Logan his drink it rang and he went to get the door.

And as Remus opened the door he was met with the sight of a bubbly, brown-haired man. He smiled widely, had freckles all over his face and a pair of round glasses. He had to look up to him and bobbed on the spot, in his sky blue cat hoodie and light brown jeans with rainbow patches sewed on the knees, and for the first time in very long while Remus found himself thinking that this person just looked objectively adorable.

“Hello! Thank you so much for inviting me to your home!” this cute little man said cheerfully and Remus simply had to smile.

“My pleasure! You’re Patton then?”

For a second the man blinked and then sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“Yes, exactly!”

Remus laughed and bid him in. He then wanted to introduce him to Virgil, as Patton suddenly looked over to the hallway with glee in his eyes. Curious he followed the look and saw Janus just walking outside of the kitchen and staring at the newcomer with wide eyes.

“Janny!” Patton exclaimed joyfully, ran to him and gave him a soft hug.

Bedazzled Remus, Virgil and Logan stared at the pair and their bedazzlement only grew as they saw “Jannie’s” flustered face after they parted and heard him stutter: “I didn’t know you were coming too, honey.”

“What are you saying?” Patton laughed and fixed Janus’s collar. “I’ve told you last night before we went to bed that I also was invited to the twins party! You know I’m one of Roman’s best friends!”

“I certainly heard that,” Janus mumbled and Patton promptly put a kiss on Janus’s cheek.

Virgil and Remus stared at Janus. Suave and charming Janus all red and flustered by the words of the human embodiment of a Care Bear. Meanwhile Logan had a hard time realizing that he had just met his year-long friend’s boyfriend and talked with said boyfriend about the value of romance in YA books.

“You’re fucking this muffin of a person?” Remus exclaimed and Logan finally lost it and let his glass drop and spill soda all over the floor.

Roman came right running out of the kitchen as Patton doubled over with laughter and Janus’s face turned a new shade of red.

“And apparently this muffin is quite naughty,” Virgil added with a nervous giggle and got up to help Logan clean up the mess he made.

Meanwhile Janus found his words again and hissed towards Remus: “Would you not speak like this about my partner? He’s not a child.”

“Come on, Janny! It’s fine,” Patton said with a wheeze and nudged his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I love that you apparently only told them about our sex life. You’re such a goofy man.”

“And you never told us that you moved in together!” it came from the agitated Logan who almost let his glass drop again as he gesticulated widely.

“Move in together?! How- What on earth did I just miss?” Roman chimed in and looked between Janus and Patton now finally registering that the former held Patton’s hand tightly.

“Ahh, kiddos! Don’t worry, I would have told you had we done that. Janny just stayed with me, because I picked him up last night and my place is closer to the airport.”

Roman’s mind went blank for a few seconds before he eyed up Janus again and then looked over to Patton and deadpanned: “You’re telling me that this sassy man in black is the most adorable person you’ve ever known? That’s the man? Because if so, quite honestly, I feel offended.”

At that Remus and Virgil started to giggle and the evening continued to be quite entertaining for them all as Janus and Patton uncovered the truth about each other and meanwhile casually extended their circle of shared friends.

___

@aprincehasgotoslay

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

#sanders sides #moceit #romantic moceit #Mims Requests

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