#Valentine’s Day Eyeshadow Ideas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugar-petals · 1 year

Text

sub!𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷 💙𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚊𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝 (18+)

⇢ gentle femdom (n.) :: a variant of bdsm emphasizing affectionate play with a pliant sub rather than hard kinks, brat taming, sadism, or hierarchy.

pairing. pleaser!bangchan x femdom!reader

WARNINGS. ⚠️ rated m, soft sub chris, light restraints, studio and car sex, mommy kink, pegging, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, frottage, shy chan, vanilla positions, lack of aftercare bc chan sleeps fast 😅, self-esteem issues, food play mention, established relationship

★ wc. 3k

↳ [ // 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. ] a soft hc for for valentine’s 💌 following lee know’s version, more sub!skz worldbuilding! good boy chan agenda going strong here... truth be told, it’s always interesting to write leaders showing their true face. not sure if i’ll make this a complete series due to my standard high word counts; if there’s a member u absolutely want to read about take to the replies/asks, if multiple people chime in for someone i see what i can do! as for now, sub chan enthusiasts enjoy! 💛

read it on ao3 | 💋 masterlist 💋

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Fast asleep within a mere five minutes. Like an ice statue frozen for a thousand years. If this guy puts the strain of having sex on top of his already endless to-do list, he’s gonna doze off in Guinness World record time some day. In his vocabulary, what even is aftercare? He’s like don’t worry mate, I’m fine, maybe a warm glass of water, now good nig—zzZ.

When you didn’t know each other so well yet, you planned to run him a nice bath and all, but reality hit with Chan entering the dream land after getting a spanking. So, in the end, aftercare is just handing him a pillow and toweling him down while he’s already in the twilight zone. See you tomorrow! Reducing the craziness of sex doesn’t really make him stay awake, nor do you want him to — any sleep is good sleep for Chan, anyway. If sex exhaustion is his justification for sleep rather than editing another whole damn album, why not. Play with you is his best excuse to nap.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Chan likes his arms and wow-factor shoulders generally, but it’s not limited to them. Some days, he’s way happier with something else (proud of leg day, let’s go). On other days, he doesn’t like anything and tries to ignore that. Every mirror an enemy. The next day, he feels better about something else entirely. Stray Kids going through so many bold outfits and intricate stylings has sort of confused him about how he naturally looks sometimes. Chan is not content with his bare face, but feels better after you pepper it with kisses.

When it comes to you, he’d never say a thing about a preference. You won't be able to tell where Chan’s mind goes the most, and it generally doesn’t hyperfocus on one body part anyway. Does he like legs best, hips, hands, back, your chest? No one knows. All he says is, „I really like your figure“ — and that’s all. Of course he thinks his domme is hot as fuck, in fact, he thinks she fucking slays. He’s just a gentleman about it.

You like his eyebrows and curly bangs a lot. In your eyes, he has a really handsome and memorable face to begin with (that eyeshadow game makes it even better, holy cow). Even classically handsome, even if he doesn’t really believe it. You saying „Damn you look good!“ when he puts on a tight outfit that accentuates his body shape, it really flatters him to the core. You like his sexy face chains and accessories, chokers galore, and virtually any type of harness fitted all across his torso or legs. Chan is a wet BDSM dream come true and he doesn’t even realize it, does he.

c= cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Actually not that into it. His own cum, I mean. Chan usually forgets to rub one out even when he feels a little twitch while working. Too focused. He ignores his libido often. Same idea extends to cumming inside you as far as vanilla is concerned. Chan knows it’s awkward to clean it all out. He’d rather wear protection and release on his own stomach, then quickly get rid of it if he’s not dozing already.

He blushes hearing you talk dirty about semen, but the real thing? Chris isn’t obsessed like some other people would be. It’s a necessary evil to him, and just another thing bodies do. His orgasms tend to underwhelm him or disappoint no matter what he does, he’s not as confident pushing himself to a maximum of pleasure by himself. He depends a lot on you to chase a high sometimes, which makes him feel deficient. You notice that he beats himself up and suggest some more gentle femdom forms of sex that focus more on sensuality and less adrenaline. Works way better for him. Besides modeling harnesses like a pro, Chan is actually a die-hard soft sub.

On the other hand… Duality. Selfless Chan is totally focused on having you completely soaked at his very creative fingertips. Cum play 5000. He’s a musician. And producer. And dancer. And singer. And rapper. Safe to say that fella has rhythm.

And: Don’t worry. He’s not the type to edge and finger you recklessly. Chan isn’t brutal, nor is he punishing. Always the exact opposite. Pleasing, pleasing, pleasing. His submissive tendencies show almost everywhere. The most daring thing he’d do is tease you with a bright smile, which probably makes you wanna bust a nut on the same spot, ain’t it so. You Chan hard stan, you. He constantly asks for feedback and wants your own hands to do it with him so he can learn: That good boy. How that tiny spot of yours can make your whole body feel so electric is quite astounding to him. Getting you off and making you laugh? His favorite downtime.

d = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Other people probably assume his ultimate kink and darkest fantasy would be something like `Chan being selfish and cruel for once´. Just doing something because he craves it. Or something like topping you for fun, large and in charge, leader mode. Little did they know that Chan’s most secret wish is you finally meeting his parents for an evening of barbecue. Ain’t he typical.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

More than you think, less than you assume. He’s a lovely Libra. The golden middle of everything is true for him. He’s not dared to directly approach any crush he had, but yes, always prompting a shy and nervous response, he’s the one who’s been approached quite a couple times. By a handful of dominants who saw right through him, too, yes. A bit of flirting over some dinner did went down, but only a dozen dates turned into some tentative, makeshift sexual activity at their place. Obviously not the dorm, he’d never do that. He’s not Hwang Hyunjin getting pegged — next to Lee Know, gaming — by every girl in a ten-mile radius.

Chan also received an Inkigayo sandwich and had a genuinely lovely time. It went on for two months until it got a bit awkward. All in good spirits, though. Because seriously. Caring as he is, and always with the other person’s well-being in mind, how could Chan ruin a breakup. If there is a split, the transition period to a new chapter will be seamless, not heartbreaking. A few tears will fall, the chest is heavy, but he’s not gonna engage in a war of roses and lose face. He does have complaints, but he’s no mean guy. Even when he has a reason to accuse an ex, he will swallow it. The shit he’s bottled up. Chan will feel burdened, down for quite some days, but focus on moving on properly when it’s possible.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

Undecided. Doesn’t want your head too far away nor too close. He’s afraid of accidents, hurting your face somehow, he’s a little paranoid. A bit of movement distance is good for soft missionary, it can be bridged by kissing. Chan uses his arms to prop himself up, gyrating so fucking heavenly, and you can grab his ass. All the praise you’ll shower him with. You’ll often be having sex in a back hug, that’s a good one, too. Especially seated, with Chan leaning forward a little to meet your spine with his chest. All you see is legs legs legs twitching under you, damn good view.

Girl on top, however, occupies both of your minds all the time. That’s where you feel at home. Comfortable for both of you, Chan can be more passive, you active. Your bed or couch needs lots of pillows, though, it’s too empty and scary for him otherwise. The floor is off limits, not cozy enough, you agree. You’re a cozy couple. Chan draped over a hard surface on his back, naked, is a sexy as fuck image in your head, but the reality is not snuggly and warm enough.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Total goofball, you love the guy’s sexy time humor. His crinkly eyes ad triangle-shaped dimples (yes they’re literally like that) always alleviate the moment and bridge an awkward silence or pause. Chan has a soft spot for your outrageous jokes, too. Your every word has him almost hanging by a thread so to speak, he’s a very active listener. Dirty talk and conversation absolutely dominate your sex life, silent sexy time is a natural, mutually agreed upon no-go.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Clean pits, clean everything. He’s pretty economical with it. Adapts to your wishes, puts lots of effort in. If it’s gotta be a hairy situation, the rules are even stricter, even if he sometimes forgets to maintain it, which makes Chan feel terribly sorry. „Won’t happen again! Oh geez.“ Uneven hairs piss him off, he’s the legend of trimming everything in place.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Can’t stay serious and focused for two seconds. Says a cheesy thing as soon as you even blink.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Too busy with his beautiful fingers between your labia to think about himself. As always: Chan gives and gives and gives without ever taking. When you’re driving to the gym and he takes the passenger seat, prepare for masturbation galore — all while he doesn’t touch himself one bit. You reward him with a little improvised frottage with his upright dick crushed against your ass later on the backseat. Both of you in your underwear: Because it’s hotter. Chan comes pretty fast, his cock is so sensitive to being squeezed by you. Turn around while you grind on him because his surprised facial expressions are just glorious. His tight body in his sports clothing feels so damn good, you can do this all day long.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

Feeding each other delicious sweets and random food bits. He’s totally enamored with this. You can be silly together, carefree, he can be your cutest little one. Not entirely in an age play sense, more as a casual endearment.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

So, besides the car and bed. His production studio chair is surprisingly not the way to go. Too narrow, moves around too much, spins at every damn movement. Studio couch is more like it. The amount of times you’ve made out on there, the members would so judge him for being thirsty. But you see the practical aspect. Increased support, decently elastic if not a little bouncy, and a comfortable surface that’s easy to clean for him. It’s not like Chan keeps typing and producing with you on his lap at the table. Come on, he focuses on you. When you sit next to him or on him casually to see what he’s working on, sure, he will go on as usual though. But it’s often him who wants to sit on your lap to get pampered, or between your legs non-sexually if he’s too heavy for you. At home, any spot will do, long as it has a pillow fort.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Affection and courtesy. Compared to some other members, say Felix, Chan doesn’t submit to try stuff out and to chase a kinky curiosity. The principle and chivalry counts for him instead. Being a domme pleaser and body worship advocate 5000 is what keeps Chan coming back for more. Stress relief is a side effect, pun intended.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Hard domming you. He has leader energy on stage, but privately, mercurial goofball he is, it just doesn’t suit him. Chan would never make you scream or sob, and he can’t use a whip on your ass either. That image is so strange to both of you. Although he matches the aesthetic of a hard dom when he’s dressed up like one, face chain wolf gang and all, actually doing all this stuff creeps him out. He recoils at the thought of smacking you roughly or doling out a harsh anal punishment. Raw and hateful sex is simply not his schtick. Again, he’s Hyunjin’s opposite on the submission scale: Mister Hwang is very open to being demolished in a crazy hate fuck by any dominant daring enough. That’s where smacking and violently punishing is very welcome. Chan, he prefers a forehead kiss to make him squeal.

Chan would be all shifty on his feed and be confused constantly if he had to dominate in a cold and relentless way. Being a soft dom is all he could muster, which would simply wind up him service subbing in a covert way — no one’s surprised. And the major obstacle is, Chan simply cannot switch off his charm. He just can’t. It’s in his tone of voice all the time. The only exception happens when he reprimands the members for not taking something seriously enough, but well — he doesn’t have to pull that voice on you. You know the stakes of this relationship and meet him with a logical mindset. You take topping him very seriously like a fucking pro, in fact. Chan got nothing on you, he thinks he’d look like an amateur.

If we’re going there at all: Chan can’t stand the whole kink of say, his girl age regressing to her toddler days, diapers and everything. He’d be like what… It’s too much for him, and his whole Stray Kids’ father role doesn’t have to be his entire identity. Chan appreciates a sexual slash romantic partner who is level-headed and talks to him on equal grounds. He doesn’t want someone tugging at his sleeve all the time talking in a baby voice, he prefers more mature flirting and interactions. He’s the one getting shy, his domme is the wise one. So: No infantilizing his girlfriend. They’re called Stray Kids and not Stray Adults, so he already fosters the whole group as a full-time job — back at home, he’s looking for an authority instead.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh shit, here they come. Those beautiful, pinkish, big and juicy lips. They’re wonderful and shapely, just right, so puckered. It’s the ace up his sleeve! You’ll grind the chapstick off of `em at every opportunity. He’ll quickly get fantastic at giving head, the eye contact is always a stunner. The lips are usually outclassing his tongue, though you should never underestimate someone who works a mic for a living.

His consistency… I swear. Completely deprioritizes receiving. He’s clumsy with eating you out in the first month of dating, hence why he wants to improve. Although it irks him that he’s not a natural talent, your comforting words will help him. „Not everyone can be born as Hwang Hyunjin.“ — „So true, bestie. Or Felix, too.“ He embraces his beginner mindset and hey, come on: That he tries so hard is worth ten sex toys, the effort and dedication counts. Like he can suck on a dildo in no time. Not ready for the strap yet, but that’s ok. His progress tends to be astounding, he remembers his mishaps and strengths very well. Nerdy Chan writes down what he should keep in mind, that’s a hell of a man right here.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Nothing subspace-inducing, we’re keeping it midrange speed here. Though, remember this guy is a literal sports student, athlete, multi talent. He can pull off anything you wish for, you just gotta ask. Nevertheless, he’s too sweet to go and say „let’s just fuck like rabbits, 3, 2, 1, go!“ — some other certain members are more fond of that. Lee Know, Hyunjin, Han, to name the holy trinity of dick destruction. They just wanna get wrecked. CBT and everything. Chan loves pleasure and passion more than ending up ruined, his workload does that for him.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yep. Pretty boy likes those. Big fan. Any day. Treats the two of you with cooking afterwards.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sexually? Not at all. Besides a little fun and games (read: flirting and pillow fights), he’s beyond mellow. Bangchan is the last person on earth to demand that you amp up your dominatrix game to do something questionable. As in, to experiment with even more extreme practices, electro play, knife play, sounding, that stuff. Or to put on specific, highly sexualized outfits. Again, that would contradict your coziness at home.

He’s not a fan of pushing his dominant to their limit, or having a stake in their appearance whatsoever. You’re not there for his appetite, because he’s the snack. As is good practice, he coordinates a sexual scene together with you, and can make cute wink-wink suggestions: But they’re literally harmless. Such as, „maybe… tie my hands with a ribbon or something?“, and it’s all in an open-ended question format just like that. It’s up to you to allow it or not.

In other words: Bangchan’s inner power bottom is what? Non-existent. Which differs wildly from some other members. Han would totally beg you to slap the shit out of him just so he can experience a shock of adrenaline. Bratty Felix would tease his domme with his ass until she tames him with pinches, clamps, and squeezing. Chan would never even consider asking to be fucking wrestled. It’s 100% you who suggests kinks that carry more danger, like heavy chains with collars, or using a Sybian on him, although that’s not risky from a pro’s perspective. He takes the backseat and will most definitely not provoke any trouble or unsafe etiquette willingly.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He took ballet classes. All you need to know. Strength and tension and discipline are words not unfamiliar to him. His dick won’t last long, but the rest of his body will: Unless he danced like crazy that day. Which means time for spoiling and caressing him, talking him through, tucking him into bed. No hard domination please.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Bondage rope, yes. Red lights was right, he’s a rope bunny. Other particular toys no… with some room for experimenting sometimes. But he’s not a crazy toy collector, one quality vibrating aid to get you off is worth a 100 random items that he’d buys just to buy them. So, no to that. He’s particular and looks for what really fits the two of you. Strap-on experiments are fine, he quite likes to take it on all fours until one of you cramps. You’re not powering through, but that one’s a long and prep-heavy session. Blowing his back out is probably a bad idea, going slow and steady with lots of reassurance works way better.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

Chan’s ‚explanation voice‘ and constant questions can drag out foreplay for half an hour. By any means: The Chansplaining needs to find it’s due end. You get down to business by just unzipping his damn pants. A call to inspect your sexy sub is the perfect shortcut, admittedly just to see his thick package. „Take your cock out, honey. Let me take a good look at it.“ — instantly flustered Chan is putty in your hands.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

„Yes, mommy!“ — that’s medium loud. Can be more silent, too, but never not super breathy. Drastic spikes in volume, not so much. It’s a constant moaning. Though, I might be understating this, the whole group has a very high benchmark for volume. 80% of Stray Kids are fucking screamers.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Chan talks about how much he loves having sex with you all while he’s fast sleep constantly. Babbling in his dreams is not uncommon, the members seem to be on his mind a lot unsurprisingly, but this one stands out to you.

x = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

What he’s got in his sweatpants is like a Monsta X song. I don’t know what else to liken it to. Thing is, he’s not working with a whopping 10 inches. Who the hell carries that. He’s in a comfortable but aesthetically pleasing upper midrange, and really not too awkwardly long at all. It absolutely wouldn’t suit him. Girth and full balls is where it’s at. Also: Big ass alert. Your designated smack target and stress ball. You’re not surprised that Lino acts the way he does given how um cheeky the members are. Chan’s has such a nice curve, fuck.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s not Felix going „Lemme suck your tiddies real quick“ at every opportunity. Chan is more like „Okay, can I…?“ And he always ends up surprised how easily he gets going. It’s nothing when compared to his awkward jack-off sessions at work. You know what he’s capable of with one glance. Chan is a sensualist. Someone so sporty knows how to get their blood pumping. And: He’s channeled a fuck ton of his sexual energy into dance and his ten thousand other physical talents. You know precisely how to train him to get the desired results.

z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

You can use a damn stopwatch. He’s gone, ciao, bye, hasta luego, see you soon. In your arms, looking as angelic as ever. At the end of the day, Chan’s rapid deep sleep is pretty cute. This sub is a little innocent cherub. He’s in good hands with you.

read it on ao3

sub!idols m.list ♡

lee know alphabet version

sub!skz orgasm faces/bondage scenario

sub!hyunjin oneshot | sub!felix oneshot

💕 likes, rbs, comments v much appreciated, let’s talk 💕

#sub!skz #stray kids smut #sub!stray kids #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #dom!reader #stray kids #skz imagines #skz headcanons #sub!skz x dom!reader #bang chan smut #sub!bang chan #bang chan #skz chan #smut alphabet #smut a-z #long post

470 notes · View notes

callsign-rogueone · 2 months

Text

the dress - i.c.

Imogen Cardulo x reader Imogen finds you getting ready for a night on the town, and makes it clear what she thinks of that idea. part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 #9: love confession words: 980 🏷: no book spoilers. reader wears makeup and a dress, but no pronouns used. very mild argument, talk of drinking and hookups, it's mentioned that reader had one (1) shot (I may be sober, but I can still write about drinking!), Imogen calls you sweetheart twice. I cannot believe it took me this long to post something for her! I just wanna be her cute little femme girlfriend so bad bro 😭

You shut the eyeshadow compact, satisfied with your work. It’s been a long time since you’ve bothered to do yourself up like this, and you almost don’t recognize your reflection, but it looks nice.

You hear the door unlock, straightening up.

“Oh, hi Im,” you greet, your cheeks warming. You weren’t expecting to run into her, but you suppose it was inevitable; you do share a bathroom, after all.

She stares at you blankly for a moment, taking you in -- she’s never seen you like this, ever. “What are you wearing?”

“A dress,” you answer, moving in a small circle to show her the full extent of the outfit. “I bought it first year, but I’ve never had a chance to wear it. Do you like it?”

It’s cute, a pretty shade of light blue patterned with tiny white flowers, cap sleeves and a short skirt that flutters as you move, but it's definitely not seasonally appropriate -- it’s very likely going to pour rain tonight, and that thin cotton isn’t going to keep you warm at all, especially when it only extends to your knees. She doesn’t see your flight jacket anywhere, either.

“I do like it. But why are you wearing it?“

You gather up the makeup back into the little bag you keep it in, pulling the drawstring tightly. “Me and the infantry girls I met last week are gonna go into town to hook us some civilians. Wanna come with?”

You stumble a bit as you turn, still unused to the heeled shoes you’d borrowed from your new friend.

Imogen reaches out to steady you, setting a hand on your back. She sniffs the air twice, undoubtedly smelling the shot of whiskey you’d taken earlier -- you hate the stuff, but it does the job, and you can’t really complain about the taste when there’s nothing else available; cadets aren’t supposed to have any alcohol in their rooms.

“I only had one shot,” you defend, seeing the unamused look on her face, “and I’m gonna need one or two to convince myself to go through with this.”

“To go through with what?”

“Y’know…” you gesture aimlessly, embarrassed.

She raises an eyebrow. “No, sweetheart, I don’t. Care to enlighten me?”

“To go out to a tavern and take somebody home. Or to be taken home, I guess, since we can’t have visitors. I’ve never done anything like this before, but there’s a first time for everything, right?” You manage a smile and a nervous laugh.

The anxiety radiating from you is her last straw, but she treads carefully, knowing you’re a little fragile right now. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” you ask, looking genuinely confused.

She can’t take it anymore. “Gods, how naive are you? Do you have any idea how dangerous this plan is? Walking half a mile to town at night in the cold with a group of girls you hardly know, dressed like that, just so you can get drunk and hook up with some stranger who you’ll never see again?”

You take a step back, grateful you don’t stumble again, and cross your arms over your chest in a show of intimidation that doesn’t work at all. “I can protect myself. And you don’t get to tell me what to do, or who to hang out with, and you certainly don’t get to tell me who to fuck. Why do you even care?”

“Because I want you to be safe, and because you’re worth so much more than just a drunk hookup. You deserve someone who actually cares about who you are inside, about your feelings. You’re a good person, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You deflate, looking down at the floor in shame. “You’re right, it was a dumb idea,” you mumble, rubbing your hands over your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up.

“C’mere,” she coaxes.

You step out of the shoes, taking a few steps across the cold tile toward her and letting her wrap her arms around you.

She smells nice.

There’s a moment of still quiet, just the distant sounds of water moving through the pipes.

She rubs a hand over your back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she says quietly. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.”

“S’okay,” you mumble, but she isn’t entirely convinced.

“Hey,” she says softly, “you know I love you, right?”

You blink. “What?”

She stiffens and pulls away, realizing what she’s admitted, but it’s too late to take it back. “I’m in love with you,” she repeats. “But if you don’t feel the same, I— mph!”

She squeaks in surprise as you tug her back to you by the collar of her flight jacket, connecting your lips.

You taste like malt liquor and strawberry lip gloss, and it’s intoxicating; she can’t get enough of the thing she’s wanted so badly for the last year.

You pull away for air after a moment, resting your forehead against hers. “I do feel the same, for the record. I’ve been in love with you for months. Tonight was going to be a desperate attempt to get over you, but that’s clearly never gonna happen.”

She smiles. “I’m glad I found you here, then.”

Rain splatters against the frosted window, a downpour starting outside, and you can’t help but laugh -- there’s no way you would have made it all the way to town and back like this; you’d be soaked before you got past the front gates.

“How about I go change into something warmer, and then we can start making up for all that lost time,” you suggest, picking up the shoes and your makeup bag.

“That sounds perfect,” she agrees, giving you another soft kiss. “See you in five minutes?”

You grin at her over your shoulder as you push open the door. “I’ll make it three.”

#imogen cardulo #fourth wing #imogen cardulo x reader #fourth wing x reader #mine #valentine's day celly #not in love with the beginning of this one but meh #it eez what it eez

46 notes · View notes

readingismyhappyplacee · 2 years

Text

Kiss, Marry, Kill.

Summary: You go to a Halloween party where your crush happens to be, but something goes wrong.

Warnings: Foul language, suggestive themes, mentions of alcohol, and smoking. Probably 16+.

Class just let out, the bell signalling the end of the block and the end of the day for all students. It was Friday and Y/N was exhausted. Her studies have been keeping her busy and she had little to no down time lately. Her professors non the less didn’t care that she was swamped with homework so there was absolutely no use asking for help or even for extensions. They just wouldn’t understand her struggles.

Y/N met her closest friends, Maisie and Kat at her locker, eyeing the text in the group chat that read:

Y/N’s locker, pronto! - Kat

She started the route to her locker. The hallway was thinning as she passed students who just wanted to get home. Some were in costumes but most were too embarrassed to wear something so obvious. She could see the top of a witch hat in the distance and laughed. Kat loved to dress up. She was extremely talented in makeup and used halloween as a chance to show off her skills on a more extreme level. Y/N and Maisie on the other hand, followed suit with the rest of the school, opting more so on earrings or a pair of animal ears. As she approached her two best friends, she could pick out the almost sinister grins on their faces.

“What is with that look you two? What do you know that I don’t? Spill.” She said.

“Well… A little birdie told me you-know-who is gonna be at the party tonight!” Maisie answered first. Kat giggled, “we overheard in English, all his friends are going too!” She gave Maisie a glance.

“And why would that be a big deal?” Y/N teased.

“Oh come on! You’ve been in love with him forever! Don’t play dumb!”

“No I mean why would his friends be a big deal, yeah now i’m nervous, I didn’t think he would be there, I guess i’ve thought about it before but - NO MAISIE WHO IS IT NOW?” Y/N groaned. Maisie gave a small giggle. She has a tendency to move on to a different guy every month. First it was a senior that she had never talked to before, then it was a coworker at Save-on and you get the idea. Though apparently the cycle has never ended as long as Y/N knew her. Maisie definitely had a type and stuck to it. Tall, brunette, rich and into cars. Unfortunately school doesn’t have that many of the sort to choose from.

“Let me guess Maisie, is it Ryder?”

She faked a swoon, “Oh how did you guess so easily?”

“Girl, he drives a Beamer, of course you’re into him.”

“Ha. Fair point” She shrugged.

Y/N zoned out of the conversation. All she could think about was C/N and the possibilities of what tonight would hold. Sure they’ve talked a number of times and shared a few classes, but there was no way that he harboured the same feelings. She could daydream all she wanted about him and his fluffy hair, how strong he was or how smart he was, but what is the use if he wouldn’t do the same? He’s all a girl could ask for.

After gathering their belongings to take home for the weekend, the three friends walked to Maisie’s house to get ready for the party. The trio was extremely excited to show off their costume idea they had been brewing up for weeks. It was Kat’s idea: Kiss, Marry and Kill. Y/N was kiss, she wore a red skirt with a lace corset, red lipstick and eyeshadow (that Kat had to apply for her), a heart headband, and red lipstick marks on both cheeks, courtesy of Maisie. She looked like Valentine’s Day on the red carpet. Maisie was marry, short white dress and veil, bouquet of fireball shots on sticks, white gloves and a daring pair of heels. Kat was kill. She loved dressing in black. Her makeup was changed to black eyeshadow, eyeliner and lipstick. She wore a black strapless dress that was certainly not school appropriate. To finish it off she put fake blood along her neck to articulate a knife slash and tucked a fake plastic knife into the band of her dress. Each girl has their respective word on their chest in hopes people would understand to some degree of what they were going for.

After snapping a couple pictures for Insta later, and eating dinner, the girls hopped in a taxi to the party.

“Who’s house is it again?” Maisie questioned, booze already in hand.

“Cash. I texted him earlier, he has a bonfire outside. Fuck we forgot chairs!” Y/N laughed at Kat’s outburst.

The atmosphere wasn’t too cold for late October. The stars were out and the taxi passed tons of trick-or-treaters on the road. It was the perfect weather for Halloween night and the excitement only grew in Y/N’s core. She couldn’t wait to get drunk and maybe sneak a few glances at C/N. As the girls neared the party, the sound of music and partygoers could be heard and the giant bonfire blast a vibrant light against the trees surrounding the property. Y/N and her friends weren’t really dressed for a cold night, but the fire would suffice.

Thanking the taxi driver, the girls hopped out and walked down the long driveway. Y/N instantly regretted her choice of heels. When they arrived amidst the chaos, Y/N was immediately abandoned by her best friends for boys and drinks.

“Bitches.” She muttered under her breath. She found the drinks table and poured herself a cup. She grazed her eyes along the group of young people. Most were already hammered and dancing to the music. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted C/N. He was standing with his friends wearing a Toad costume. His bare chest was out for the world to see between the character’s vest and she could feel the heat coming to her cheeks. He had a mushroom hat on to finish the simple but cute costume. She would always be able to pick him out of a crowd. Y/N was interrupted in her thoughts by a figure clad in a Starbucks uniform.

“Hey Daniel, have you seen Kat anywhere?” She asked. Daniel slowly turned around, he was definitely drunk.

“Huh?” He managed to get out between sips. She took the cup away for a second.

“Kat? Where is she?”

“Oh hey Y/N what’s up bro, fuck I don’t know, probably over with Brad, heard they’ve been fucking. Can I have my drink back now? My song is playing.” He slurred.

“Every song is your song.” She laughed, handing his drink back.

Daniel walked towards the fire, leaving the girl alone again. She began looking for Brad. She knew he was one of C/N’s friends and she began to look for the group of boys again. Kat was so getting yelled at when they were both sober. She never talks about who she’s hooking up with! She quickly spotted C/N and his friends again, standing near the fire. Kat was there too, flirting with Brad in an obnoxious way.

“Bitch! Thanks for ditching me so soon!” Y/N greeted.

“Hey bitch! Sorry, Brad told me he brought me the good stuff!” She held up a lit joint, then passed it around the circle again. “You should join in!”

“Kat, you know I don’t smoke.”

“Fuck. Right. Sorry.”

“Y/N are you like cupid or something?” Austen, another friend of C/N’s looked her up and down.

“No i’m supposed to be kiss, as in like, kiss marry kill, you know?”

“Ha shit that’s clever! So are you just kissing whoever tonight or do I have to cut the line?” Austen gave her a flirty smile. Shit this was awkward, C/N was literally standing right there. She glanced at him slightly before answering.

“Uh, well no, ha ha. It’s just for the pun.”

“C’mon Y/N, you’re hot, I’m hot, it’s meant to be.” He leaned down over her, and man was he close to her face.

“And you’re tits look so good in that - hey!”

“She said no Austen, back off.” C/N stepped in, forcefully pushing Austen away from the girl and out of the circle. Y/N’s dropped her drink in surprise. A couple ‘ooh’s’ could be heard from the remainder of the group. The people nearby swarmed to see what the small commotion was about. Y/N’s cheeks burned. She didn’t enjoy being the centre of attention, but at least she wasn’t cold anymore.

“Fuck off dude, she’s free reign. I don’t see no fucking boyfriend around? Huh? Is it you pretty boy? Didn’t think so. Let me have her.” Austen moved back into the circle, glaring at C/N and glancing at Y/N again. He was so intoxicated it was scaring her. She didn’t know what to say so she moved to stand with Kat a few feet farther away.

“She said no man, leave her alone.” Ryan stepped in to help deescalate the situation. Grabbing his Austen’s shoulders and attempting to pull him towards a different area of the party. He was ashamed of his best friends behaviour.

“I just want a fucking kiss! Hey Y/N! Meet me behind the house and we can fuck too!”

Much to Y/N’s surprise, C/N punched Austen in the nose, knocking him to the ground. Stunned but not stopped, Austen stood up, wiped the blood from dripping into his mouth and punched C/N square in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards a few feet. Ryan quickly jumped between the two.

“Enough you little shits. Austen go clean your fucking face you look hideous.”

Angry to the boiling point, Austen stormed off to the house to use the bathroom. C/N, winded slightly, sat in a chair near the fire to calm down. Suddenly Maisie appeared to join her best friends as the crowd dispersed.

“Oh my god, Y/N what happened? We’re you hurt, I didn’t think this would involve you! I thought it was just the boys being boys again! You poor thing!” Maisie got white girl drunk, but also acted like the mom friend she usually is.

“I’m fine Mais, really. It was C/N that got hit. Austen was not leaving me alone.”

“Oh my god you should like, totally thank him, in like, a different way, if you know what I mean!” She suggestively stated.

“Maisie now is not the time. Sorry Y/N, maybe that costume wasn’t so great after all.” Kat joined in, seemingly more sober than before.

“I’m fine guys. I’m gonna go find him now and see if he’s alright.” Y/N brushed it off, only focused on the one boy that always consumes her thoughts.

“Wear protection!” Maisie screamed over the sound of the music. Y/N shot her a menacing look. She found C/N in a chair at the backside of the fire, farthest away from where the quarrel occurred. Only a few people were around that area. As she approached, C/N looked up at her.

“Hi.” He said.

“Hi. Thank you for sticking up for me. I’m not good in those types of situations and I’m glad you were there to stop him, well, sort of. Are you okay?” She glanced at his chest and then to his eyes. A quick blush adorned her face once again.

“It was nothing I promise and I’m okay, he’s not that strong anyways. Are you okay?”

“Yes. Thank god though, I really didn’t want to kiss him.”

“Would you kiss me?”

Suddenly, the world stopped. Suddenly, there was no blasting music, or drunk people around her. Suddenly, there was no sense of hot or cold and all was forgotten about Austen. There was only her and C/N.

“What?” She breathed, mouth agape.

“Here come sit.” He patted his lap once while looking at her. She silently accepted, sitting on his lap facing him.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked politely. “I promise I’m not like that guy.”

Y/N nodded, too stunned to speak. C/N smiled down at her. He lifted her chin up with his hand and placed his lips onto hers. Y/N felt like she was on top of the moon. His lips were everything she imagined and more, but with a slight taste of the mango White Claw he was drinking previously. Holy shit this was happening. She placed her arms around his neck and silently prayed this wasn’t a dream. The kiss only broke when air was needed again. Her hands found his bare chest.

“See? I’m much more classy. A chair rather than behind a house!” He grinned, forehead against her forehead. Y/N gave him a joking slap.

“Don’t put that idea in my head again!” She laughed. C/N gave her another peck before leaning into her ear. “You look gorgeous, by the way.” Y/N blushed instantly.

“Thanks. Your costume is pretty cute too.” She replied.

“Had to get your attention somehow, but it happened another way instead.”

“Let’s go get another drink.” She smiled at him. She got up and C/N followed her through to the group where Y/N stopped for a moment.

“I’m not sure Kat, I think this costume was the perfect choice.” She looked at her best friend, then at C/N and smiled. She grabbed his hand and led him to the drinks table to enjoy the rest of the night together.

#crushxreader #crush #imagine #crush imagine #halloween #halloween party #protective #xreader #reader #crushimagines #crush imagines #crush x reader imagine

348 notes · View notes

sauron-facts · 1 year

Text

sauron came up with the ideas of gay sex and red eyeshadow in celebration of valentine's day!

#sauron facts #sauron #lotr #lord of the rings #silmarillion #the silmarillion #mairon #annatar #tolkien #spoken as a person who adores red eyeshadow

92 notes · View notes

oceanlipgloss · 4 months

Text

6.1.2024 FIC WRITTEN 14.2.2024

Honestly...holidays, birthdays and the like don't mean anything to me other than game events—so my God, even though the Valentine's update is literally tomorrow, I just realised that Valentine's Day is this month and about a week away already lol and that got me, um, thinking👉🏼👈🏼I'd...like Eligos to be the victim bow tie atop my Valentine's fic (if I do decide to write one) poor guy

Actually, I think it's a cute idea so far—sweet, artistic, sappy. Aaaaall about bows and pampering him with ribbons and compliments because that would make him happy. Still debating whether or not to write it tho idk if depression hehe and writer's block will let me even if decide to. Fuck u two, it's all fic ideas and no fics because of u these days🖕🏼but I I really want to write something. I wanna write this idea :(

It's just Eligos and MC spending Valentine's Day together in a very Eligos-will-love-this-manner. MC unties all the bows from his hair in front of a vanity mirror, then replaces them with red ribbons—the color of the day of love in the human world, she explains. She tells him how cute he is, says how adorable he looks as she weaves her fingers through his hair, watches him glow giddy with happiness and blush rosy. She even gets an eyeshadow palette and little makeup brush to carefully color red the tiny pink bow ties on his body so they match the new ones in his hair and on his horns lol

edit: valentine

#ra's fanfic plans #the teacup

5 notes · View notes

mrssnail · 10 months

Text

Hi Barbie🌸👋

Gallery id: Mrssnail

(I only made her first outfit... im lazy sorry)

🌸 Skin: https://www.curseforge.com/sims4/create-a-sim/soft-rose-skinblends

🌸 Eyes: https://twisted-cat.tumblr.com/post/681428688165879808/faded-eyes

🌸 Eyelashes (skindetail) : https://kijiko-catfood.com/3d-lashes-version2-for-skin-detail-experimental/

🌸 Remove EA eyelashes: https://kijiko-catfood.com/ea-eyelashes-remover/

🌸 Freckles: https://softerhaze.tumblr.com/post/190145403527/naomi-freckles-made-for-guys-and-gals-with-skin

🌸 Face shade: https://pyxiidis.tumblr.com/post/171902140901/about-face-skin-details-by-pyxis-a-set-of-subtle

🌸 baby hairs: https://twisted-cat.tumblr.com/post/702008205822263296/baby-hairs-double-set

🌸 Hair: https://simstrouble.tumblr.com/post/688676456260386816/wavegazer-set-by-simstrouble-july-is-my-birth

🌸 Earrings: https://enriques4.tumblr.com/post/643109801915727872/enriques4-valentine-set-hi-guyss-i-hope-youre

🌸 Lashes (glasses): https://dream-girl.tumblr.com/post/189100023354/3-d-l-a-s-h-e-s-n-e-w-m-e-s-h-b-y-d-r

🌸 Eyeshadow: https://www.patreon.com/posts/my-valentine-day-78085259?l=es

🌸 Butterfly eyeliner: https://miikocc.tumblr.com/post/657411895993712640/butterfly-eyeliner

🌸 Have no idea what blush i used im so sorry😅

🌸 Lipstick: https://www.thesimsresource.com/downloads/details/category/sims4-makeup-female-lipstick/title/gravity-lipstick/id/1443422/

🌸 Dress: https://www.patreon.com/posts/sxg-mimosa-13-68526126

🌸 Nails: https://www.patreon.com/posts/monalisa-nails-50434306?epik=dj0yJnU9MThmdzVSU01qSEplSFo4SzFmaDFnQ3dLY0laS2NidVUmcD0wJm49NHRZTkEyUjRLSURmeVJxZEt0QWVSQSZ0PUFBQUFBR1RNOUhF

🌸 Shoes: https://www.patreon.com/posts/66536007

6 notes · View notes

fasently · 2 years

Text

20 Valentine’s Day Eyeshadow Ideas That Aren’t Basic AF

The season of love has returned, which means one thing for me (well, two things if you count Reese’s Valentine’s Day candy): a new set of Valentine’s Day nails paired with some really pretty Valentine’s Day eyeshadow. Don’t get me wrong: I’ll happily wear Valentine’s Day colors all year (thanks to the red lipstick I wear at least once a week), but there’s something about going all out on shimmery…

View On WordPress

#Beauty #Celebrity #Fasently #Makeup #Eyeshadow #Eyeshadow Ideas #Love #V-Day #Valentine’s Day #Valentine’s Day Eyeshadow Ideas

0 notes

stressedemoblackbratz · 2 years

Text

valentines girl

pairing: fezco x black!fem!reader

warnings: swearing.

a/n: i made this on a whim so i hope it’s good

words: 1.3k + not proofread

inspo

i got some roses and a love letter that says i adore you and it says, will you be my valentine's girl?

“ayo, yo ass gotta get up.” Fez said nudging Faye’s ankle to wake the girl up. she jolted up and looked around the room with wide eyes. noticing it was just Fez she visibly relaxed and rose a brow at him.

“what the fuck.” she asked before standing and heading to the fridge.

“it’s Valentine’s Day. i called Custer, so get your shit and dress up or something. you gotta get up outta here and soon.” Fez said rushing around the living room and fixing up the couch cushions and blankets.

Faye drunk straight from the carton of milk. “okay…fucking weirdo.” she said mumbling the last bit to herself. she eyed his crazed form before heading to the bathroom.

Ash came out from his room with flowers in one hand and his jacket in the other. “I found these at the grocery store.” he said handing them to Fez.

Ashtray knew why Fez was nervous. It was Valentine’s Day so it meant one thing.

Fez was about to spend a bag on you.

so Faye needed to get her ass out before you spazzed and before he spazzed.

Ash got over Faye living there, but being alone with her all day? hell no.

“this the only flowers they had?” Fez asked stumbling to put them in a vase. they were perfectly fine pink, red, and white roses, but Fez was visibly nervous.

“you know they look good. quit playing with me.” Ash said shaking his head while he was heading to the dinner table to make some cereal.

Fez stopped over analyzing the flowers took a deep breath and stood still.

you deserved the best and he was trying his best, he had no idea why he was so nervous.

a buzz in his back pocket brought him out of his thoughts before he opened his eyes and pulled his phone out.

custer: outside

y/n: i’m on my way. i got ashy something. don’t tell him

Fez smiled at your message. you always came by with something for Ash. books, clothes, candy? anything you thought he’d like you’d bring.

okay baby he texted back before repocketing his phone and focusing on the opening back room door.

Faye walked out fully dressed and made her way over to try and steal Ash’s food.

“aye, ain’t no time for that shit. Custers ass outside.” he said pointing towards the door. Faye’s heel clicked across the floor before she slammed the door behind her.

“bitch.” Ash mumbled as Fez walked back to his room.

“we not doing that shit today bruh.” Fez called over his shoulder as he grabbed a red reflective bag and a ferrero chocolate box. he knew you here here, but the sound of Ash’s voice. he was happier than before.

when he came back he saw you handing Ashtray a baby blue bear and a card.

you looked beautiful. curled black hair with pink tips and hearts situated at the top of your hair, sparkly eyeshadow and heart gems on your eyes, blinged out nails he took you out to get earlier last week, white fishnets against your arms, a t shirt dress, and platforms.

he wanted to fuck the shit out of you.

“you didn’t have to do this.” he heard Ash mumble to you. he saw your roll your eyes before you kissed his forehead and went to sit down.

“accept the gift and shut up.” you called to him as you sat down. Ash frantically wiped your gloss off of his forehead before sighing and accepting the gifts in the card.

walking by Fez saw the two prepaid Visa cards in his little brothers hand before smiling to himself.

“hey baby girl.” he said walking in front of you. looking up from your lap you smiled up at Fez, your one tooth gem twinkling at him.

“hi sweetheart.” you squealed standing up to hug him. you had been working a lot recently and last time you saw Fez he took you to get your nails done and to dinner.

the bag and box made noise as he tightly gripped you back.

“you good?” he asked as the two of you pulled apart and he sat on the coffee table in front of you as you went back to your seat.

“i’m okay, but are you okay?” you asked examining his features. you knew Faye was stressing him out, he called you each night and she was doing new shit each day.

“she be pissing me off, but i’m good. forget that shit though. todays about you.” he said shoving the chocolates and the vase beside him towards you.

“for meee?” you teasingly called sniffing the flowers and placing them on a side table.

“yeah for youuu. you know me.” he laughed at your shocked face.

you opened the box and pulled a caramel filled chocolate out, bit it, and chewed before pushing the other half to Fez’s lips. he wrapped his lips around your fingers when taking the treat away, staring at you the entire time.

you swallowed before clearing your throat. “i got you something.” you told him reaching for your purse. Fez rose his eyebrows before swallowing.

“you didn’t…” he trailed off as he saw you pull a box out. your fingers carefully wiggled the top off before handing the Cuban link over to him.

“baby you really didn’t have too.” he said accepting the gift. it was the same necklace he thought he had be subtly eying at the jewelers a few months back.

“i know you’re gonna say you don’t need it, but just like i told Ash. shut up and accept the gift.” you told him. you leaned over to clasp the necklace onto him. he softly kissed your cheek and below your ear as a silent thank you.

when you pulled back Fez silently handed you a note out of the bag and played with his necklace to avoid your gaze.

the night before Fez didn’t know what to write, but suddenly he was overwhelmingly filled with love and he wrote everything he felt for you in his own way. he ended his love letter with a more childish approach though.

the school days version of “Will you be my Valentine? Check yes or no.”.

“I don’t have a pen, but yes.” you giggled as Fez quickly looked up at you with a wide ass grin. you knew that look, he knew something you didn’t. You heard ash laugh and you quizzically looked at him in question before Fez spoke up.

“i’m so glad you said yes.” Fez told you before dumping the bag over onto the couch beside you. 5 bands fell out and you stared in shock.

“F-Fez…” your voice hitched.

“Ash get the rest of it.” Fez called over to the boy who went into his grandma’s room and came back with a duffel bag.

you didn’t have time to count the stacks, but Fez and Ash both grabbed the unzipped bag and dumped thousands of dollars into your lap.

you stared wide eyed in shock. you didn’t know how to react and you honestly thought you couldn’t breathe before a scream ripped out of your throat and you grabbed a stack examining the blue lines.

“i’m finna blow a bag and then some on you.” Fez smirked at you, his fingers splayed out against a the spread money.

“you fine as hell, you know that?” you laughed at the freckle faced boy in front of you. he laughed with you before placing some more stacks that had fell on the floor in your lap. he rubbed your knees before taking a hand and placing it on your chin. he kissed you and you moved to deepen it before you remembered Ash was in the room.

pulling away from him you placed your forehead on his, studying his face. he studied yours too and found your hand. he kissed it before uttering his next words.

“let’s go out.”

#euphoria #euphoria x reader #fezco x black!reader #euphoria imagine #fezco euphoria #fezco imagine #fezco x reader #fezco #fezco fanfic #fezco x y/n #fezco fluff #fez euphoria #valentines day

1K notes · View notes

soobmint · 3 years

Text

paper hearts | choi soobin [f] ; [c] 80s! au, 9.6k words

s u m m a r y ; if there was one thing you wanted to avoid on valentine’s day, it was running into your ex best friend, choi soobin. but when a series of unfortunate events involving too much purple eyeshadow, drunken punches, and one stolen bicycle leads you right back to his side, you begin to realize that maybe you truly belonged with him all along.

c o n t e n t s ; soobin x fem!reader, 80s! au, valentine’s day, ex best friend! soobin, rich boy! soobin, but he’s a major dweeb and the biggest softie, yeonjun is a major prick (i’m so sorry junnie), reader is a part time worker, soobin is best friends with lee felix of stray kids, some themes of social classes, roughly inspired by the 80s movie “pretty in pink,” mentions drugs, alcohol, and single parent households, mostly just fluff, fluff, and more fluff, with a hint of crack/humor

n o t e ; hello friends! this was a very quickly planned, last minute valentine’s day idea, and it’s actually a collab with one of my dearest friends, @chanluster ! she posted her piece of the collab as well, you can check it out by going to the collab masterlist here! this was so much fun to write and i think that 80s! soobin was just too good of a concept to pass up! anyways, happy valentine’s day, i hope you enjoy this oneshot! do leave a like, reblog, or comment if you could, it really helps so much <3

[back to my masterlist] [oneshot playlist]

IF ONE MORE CUT-OUT, CRAFT-PAPER HEART HIT YOU IN THE FACE, YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT YOUR JOB.

Of course you would never actually quit. With your mother out of the picture and your father working nonstop overtime just to barely have enough cash to put food on the table for the both of you, you had come to rely on your minimum wage part-time hours more than you liked to admit. However, the handmade strings of paper hearts that hung from wall to wall throughout the entirety of the record shop you were employed at was enough to make you consider it; not to mention the Phil Collins record that had been spinning all day, filling your ears with melodies embodying the very air of romance, and the embarrassing pink sweater your boss had forced you to wear. You mumbled curses beneath your breath as you pulled at the collar, itching away at your neck.

When you made a step towards a crate full of records, ready to tidy it up after a customer had rummaged through it leaving it a mess, you were met with another face full of cheap red construction paper. With a large growl of exasperation, you swatted at the hearts and accidentally caused the entire string of them to fall to the ground. You cleared your throat, glad that no customers were present to see your little outburst.

Your boss, Jen, still saw it all.

“That’s not very festive of you, kid,” She said, taking a drag on her cigarette. “It’s Valentine’s Day! Lighten up.”

“Ah, my bad. I forgot that I was supposed to be overjoyed on the day honoring the execution of St. Valentine,” You said as you gave her a sarcastic smile. “I’ll make sure to smile at the next couple that walks in and ask them how they plan to contribute to the commercialization of a martyr’s death.”

“You must be real fun at parties,” Jen mumbled. She shook her cigarette at you from behind the counter. “You’re just bitter because you don’t have a valentine. I can’t blame anyone for giving you the cold shoulder with that attitude of yours.”

You scowled, picking up the string of hearts that you had sent crashing to the floor. “I’m not bitter, and I don’t want a date. Also, I told you to stop smoking inside! It smells awful.”

“Last I checked, this was my shop, not yours.” You rolled your eyes as you approached the counter, handing the discarded string to Jen so she could throw it in the trash. “Now you’re making me do chores for you too? You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.”

“Jen, please, I’m really not in the mood for this today.”

Jen shrugged, bending towards the trash can to throw away the string of hearts when she paused and pulled something from the bin. You glanced over your shoulder and gasped when you saw what she held in her hand—a small red envelope with your name scrawled across the front and a pink heart-shaped sticker stuck on the back.

“What’s this?” Jen asked, opening the envelope and shaking out the contents. A single slip of paper fell out, landing atop the counter. You rushed to grab it, but Jen snatched it up just before your fingers reached the countertop.

“Give me that,” You insisted, face growing warm. “I threw it away for a reason!”

“It’s an invitation to a party?” She seemed beyond surprised, glancing back and forth between you and the paper several times. “You got invited to a Valentine’s Day party, and instead of going, you asked me to give you extra hours? Why?”

You looked down at your feet, digging the toe of your sneaker into the blue carpet. There were, in fact, many reasons why you did not want to go to that party. They were as follows:

One: Choi Yeonjun was the one who had invited you. After you had rejected his offer when he asked to take you to a basketball game a month before, you could barely make eye contact with him in the school hallway without feeling guilty. That and the fact that he was one of the richest preps in the school, you knew he had just been asking you out for some sort of prank or dare that you preferred to not potentially fall victim to.

Two: you needed to work as much as you could. Money, as always, was tight for you and your father. There was no way you would sacrifice precious hours to go to a party full of rich kids where nothing but humiliation was sure to await you.

Three: your old childhood friend and the one person you couldn’t bear to see was probably going to be there—Choi Soobin.

You had barely spoken to Soobin in the four years you had been in high school. Crossing paths with him in the cafeteria, turning down the same aisle of books as him in the library, all those tiny stolen glances and accidental encounters were the only bits of interaction you had kept throughout all that time. The worst part was, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was nothing but your own cowardice that had driven the two of you apart, and you were still too afraid to own up to it.

Instead of explaining all of this to Jen, you simply shrugged and said, “I dunno. It just sounds lame.”

Your boss sighed, holding the invitation out towards you. “Okay, I’m letting you off early. Go to the party.”

With wide eyes, you shook your head immediately. “Absolutely not. Why in the world would I go?”

“Well, first of all, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. Who knows when your next chance to go to a party will be.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that.

“Second, it’s a holiday! The only reason I even opened today was because you were begging me for hours. I thought it was because you were bummed about having no plans, but clearly it’s because you wanted an excuse to be a recluse.”

“Hey, I’m not a recluse.”

“Clearly.” She shook the invitation at you once more, brows raised. “If you go, I’ll raise your pay by fifty cents for the next month.”

Your ears perked up at that.

“Well?” She asked, well aware that she had hit the jackpot. “What'd ya say?”

Weighing the risks against the benefits, you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Make it a dollar and you’ve got a deal.”

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S, CHOI.”

When Soobin heard the sarcastic remark coming from his best friend, Felix, he had to fight back the urge to burst into tears then and there. He still wasn’t quite sure how Felix had convinced him to come, but he was already regretting it. The last thing he wanted to do to celebrate the day dedicated to love was spend it at a house party—or, as Soobin preferred to call them, any outcast high school kid’s version of hell on earth.

With a quick peek between his fingers, which he had used to cover his eyes immediately upon arriving at the site of the Valentine’s party, Soobin caught another eye-full of couples getting all too familiar with one another out in the open. He gulped, letting his hands grip the handles of the bike as he averted his gaze, choosing to cast his best glare at Felix, who was busy adjusting his ever-present beanie.

“Shut up,” he murmured, slowly sliding off the seat of his bike. He dusted off the worn, tearing cushion, glancing around the area. “Now quick, we gotta put our stuff somewhere safe.”

Felix looked aghast, making no moves to help Soobin in his search for a hiding spot. “What are you doing?”

“Tryna find a safe place for my bike?” He thought the answer to be somewhat obvious, but clearly Felix wasn’t on the same track of thinking. “You don’t know today’s world! Anyone is willing to steal nowadays.”

“Soobin, your bike is coughing up oil from its chains. It should be in its own care home at this rate.”

“I don’t wanna hear your slander, skater boy,” Soobin retorted, eyeing Felix’s ebony skateboard that he refused to be seen without. As if on cue, when he pushed his bike forward, the chains squealed, drawing the attention of a pair of particularly passionate individuals who had been wrapped up with one another moments before. Soobin ignored their annoyed stares, feeling his ears burn from embarrassment. He glanced back to Felix. “Help me find a hiding spot.”

Felix was anything but enthusiastic, but he began to help Soobin search nonetheless.

“Slide it in here, Soobs,” Felix called a few moments later. He was pointed to an empty space between the home’s perfectly trimmed bushes. Soobin pursed his lips together, pushing his large glasses further up the bridge of his nose—a nervous tick of his. Felix groaned, rolling his eyes. “Or you can leave it out in the open so it’ll spit more oil on the passersby? Is that what you want?”

“Fine, fine!” Soobin huffed, wheeling his bike over to the shrubbery, chains squeaking all the way. He carefully laid it beneath the brush and moved a few branches to cover it up nicely. He stood up straight, dusting his hands on the front of his loose blue jeans. “What about your skateboard?”

Felix gave the board a pat, awarding his most prized possession a dazzling smile one would expect to see a proud father giving his beloved son. But in reality, it was the school’s stoner grinning ear to ear at his old, dusty skateboard. “Nightrider stays with me.”

Soobin scrunched his nose, cringing on instinct. He still calls that thing by that stupid name?

Felix clapped him on the shoulder before he could make a remark, catching him off guard when he said, “Right. Let’s go and get your girl.”

There was nothing Soobin could do to stop the flush that rushed to his cheeks right away. Images of you, his ex-best friend and the only reason he had even come to this party in the first place, flashed through his mind. Had he not overheard Yeonjun invite you earlier that morning and then casually mention the encounter to Felix, there was no way he would have even stepped foot out of his house that night. Part of him was peeved, wishing he had never uttered a single word about you to his overbearing friend. Yet, deep down, there was hope within him—the tiniest sliver.

If there was even the slightest chance that he could talk to you that night, he would do anything. Even if it meant dealing with a stupid party, and the never-ceasing teasing he was bound to continue receiving from Felix.

“Don’t even say that,” He said, emphasizing each word as they walked up the front steps. Soobin had to glance down at his much shorter friend to see the devious grin on his freckled face.

“Say what? That she’s your girl, your woman, your one and only?”

The blush must have been creeping to his neck by that point. He could feel it. “I. . .” There were many things Soobin wished to say; angry words that would hopefully shut the blonde skater boy up real quick. But he couldn’t bring himself to say a single harsh word, so he sighed in defeat. “I can’t even say it.”

“That you hate me?” Felix only grinned even bigger, and Soobin couldn’t help the tiny defeated smile that slipped over his features. “Oh, I know. It’s because I’m too good of a best friend.”

They stepped into the house then, instantly being overwhelmed by loud music, boisterous laughter, and drunken yells echoing throughout the halls. Soobin latched onto Felix right away, gripping his friend’s sleeve as someone stumbled into him, a bit of beer spilling from their cup. He pushed his glasses up, only for them to slide right back down as he began to sweat.

“Maybe we should go home, Lix!” Soobin shouted to be heard over the noise as they travelled further into the house. “We can always try next year!”

“Stop being a scaredy-cat!” Felix shouted back, and Soobin thought he might actually begin to cry as they squeezed their way into the living room. Soobin nearly gagged at the strong smell of alcohol as it burned in his nose. The scene was nothing short of a nightmare to Soobin—loud voices, smoke rising in the air, vodka assaulting his nose and sweat beading on the back of his neck. He had never been one to drink, and he didn’t plan on starting that night; but he was beginning to understand what Felix meant when he had once told him it was nearly impossible to get through one of these parties sober.

He was about to make another complaint and beg to leave when someone from the crowd hollered his name, causing him to wince when he recognized that voice as the one that belonged to none other than Choi Yeonjun.

“Soobin! Where you been?”

Soobin smiled nervously at the school’s heartthrob—and textbook snobby rich kid—before he turned back to Felix. He didn’t want to leave his friend, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it if he ignored Yeonjun’s persistent calls. “I’ll be right back,” He promised Felix, still holding onto his sleeve.

“No, no,” Felix assured. “You go. You’ll probably find her around that place anyway.”

Soobin wasn’t so sure of that. You were definitely not of the right social standing to be caught amongst the circle of the school’s rich boys—which was why it had surprised Soobin that Yeonjun had invited you to the party in the first place. Your high school had its own caste system, and you were near the bottom of it.

And, as much as it pained him to admit it, Soobin was stuck at the very top with all the other rich snobs who cared about nothing more than their daily allowances that came straight from their daddy’s bank account.

“What about you, buddy?” He asked Felix, desperate for any excuse to remain by his friend’s side. He would have tried to bring Felix with him, but his friend was in an even worse social standing than you were—he was poor, and he was most known for being the school’s pothead. There was no way Soobin would willingly drag him into a situation where nothing but slander and torment awaited him.

“Me?” Felix shrugged, gripping his board tighter. “I’ll just smoke away the night.”

Soobin pouted, glancing back at the group of preps as they called for him once again. He sighed, clapping Felix on the shoulder. “Just make sure you won’t smell too much of it when I come back.”

Submitting himself to his doom then, he turned on his heel and slowly made his way to where the group of boys sat near the sofa, giving them a half-hearted wave.

“Why were you hanging around that Felix guy?” Yeonjun asked once Soobin had reached their circle. “Did he blackmail you or something?”

Soobin frowned, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “He’s my friend.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, brushing a hand through his perfectly-straightened ebony locks. “Sure he is. Tell me, do you see every kid you find on the streets as some sort of personal charity project? Or is it just Felix and—what was her name—” He snapped his fingers then before he said, “Y/N, right?”

Soobin didn’t respond—well, it was more like he couldn’t respond. By nature he was a very passive being, but nothing drew him closer to bouts of anger than when the people he cared about were being insulted right before him.

Especially when it came to you.

Yet, as much as he wanted to tell Yeonjun off or give him a nice shove into the smoke-stained walls, words failed him. They always did. Perhaps this was why you had abandoned him all those years ago. Nobody knew him better than you did, so of course you were able to see what he truly was beneath all the expensive clothes and nervous laughter—a coward.

He figured that he’d probably have left himself too.

“Drink up, buttercup.” The chipper voice that belonged to the other Choi in the small gathering of socialites, Choi Beomgyu, thrust a plastic red cup towards Soobin’s chest.

He shook his head, throwing another wavering smile in his direction. “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Why are you even here then?”

Once again, Soobin chose silence as his only response. He swallowed, patting the front pocket of his denim jacket. As the group of boys began conversing once more, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, searching every drunken face for the features that belonged to you, trying to hear your name in every conversation, desperate for your voice to break through the blasting music and shouting voices.

“Who ya looking for there, Big Choi?” Soobin grimaced at the nickname. He was skinny, but incredibly tall, and nobody would let him forget that. “Big Choi” was one of his most common nicknames among the elitists. He despised it, but of course, he would never voice that aloud.

He glanced at Beomgyu and smiled nervously again, shaking his head. “Nobody.”

His eyes met Yeonjun’s and he gulped yet again as the latter eyed him with suspicion. It wasn’t as though he had anything to hide, but something about Yeonjun’s calculating gaze made his skin crawl.

He needed to escape. Just for a moment, at least.

“I’ll be right back. Going to find some water.”

He slipped out of the living room then, apologizing profusely to each couple he accidentally bumped into, bowing in remorse to each person’s toes his big feet happened to stumble over. He ached to be by Felix’s side—the stoned skateboarder had become somewhat of a security blanket to the taller of the duo—but his blonde friend was nowhere to be seen.

After snagging a bottle of water from the kitchen, Soobin managed to slip into an empty bathroom. He slammed the door shut and wasted no time in locking it. Letting out the biggest sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door, taking a big gulp of the ice cold water.

He set the bottle on the counter and carefully reached into the front pocket of his jacket, his fingers finding the piece of paper he had been storing there all evening. He pulled it out and let his eyes wander over his middle school creation. It was a big heart, cut out from a scrap piece of red construction paper. Scrawled across it in his eight-grade handwriting were the words, Be mine this Valentine’s! His name was etched at the bottom, and at the very top, delicately printed in hot pink glitter glue, your name was written as well.

He had planned to give this to you four years ago on Valentine’s day. Everything had been planned out perfectly; he was to pick you up on his old, trusty bike. It wasn’t really made for two people, but the two of you had fashioned a makeshift extra seat for you to sit upon whenever you went places together.

He wanted to take you to the Dairy Shack, which was the local ice cream shop where the two of you spent the most time together. You always got a large chocolate shake to share, playing a quick game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who got to eat the cherry on top. He was going to order a shake and specially ask for two cherries that time, and planned to give both of them to you before he would bravely present you with the handmade card he had spent all day working on.

However, when he waited for you outside your house that day, the red dusk turned to pitch black night, and you never stepped foot out your door.

He had even gone up to your door a few times and knocked, but there was no answer. Eventually he pedalled off into the night, back to his house. He was disappointed, of course, but more worried than anything else. He had hoped you weren’t sick.

But when he saw you at school the next day, he knew that hadn’t been the case.

And when you ignored him calling your name as you passed by him in the hallways, he knew that something had drastically changed.

For weeks, Soobin was in great turmoil as he replayed your last few encounters together before you had stood him up. Perhaps you were angry that he had won the last few games of rock, paper, scissors? If he had known, he would have given you all the cherries for the rest of time if it meant you would still talk to him. He didn’t care about them—he cared about you.

He missed you.

And as weeks turned to months, and months turned to years, you still barely spoke to him, and he missed you more and more. The best friend he had wanted to take a step closer to had taken a thousand steps back from him, and he still had no idea why.

But that night, he was determined to find out.

Well, if he could muster up the courage to get a single word out, of course.

He folded the heart back up and stuck it back in his pocket, taking a deep breath as he observed himself in the fogged-up mirror. He fixed his bright blue hair that Felix had helped him bleach and dye, making sure the pieces fell over the corners of his eyes just right. He straightened his white turtleneck and cuffed the sleeves of his denim jacket until he was at least somewhat content with his appearance.

“You can do this, Soobs,” He told himself, adjusting his big round glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “That’s what Felix would say.”

“Hey, rich boy!” A loud scream came from outside the bathroom door, accompanied by harsh knocking that sent Soobin stumbling backwards until he fell in the shower, pulling the curtains down with him.

“Hurry up in there! I’m about to piss myself!”

Soobin let out a shaky sigh, scrambling to his feet as he rushed to fix the curtain he had torn down with his clumsiness. “Sorry,” he mumbled, though he doubted the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He realized then with an ever growing dread that it would be a miracle if he survived the night long enough to even find you, but it would take the work of God himself for him to actually speak to you.

He figured it was time for him to start praying.

YOU KNEW IT WAS A MISTAKE TO LET JEN DO YOUR MAKEUP.

When she had stopped you on your way out the door with a compact of bright purple eyeshadow, you had turned her down right away. No way in all of creation were you walking in a party with such an atrocious color caked up to your brow bone.

“How can you say it’s gonna look bad if you haven’t even let me try?” Jen had asked.

You had given her a once-over, your lips pressed into a thin line. “If it’s gonna look anything like the way you do your own makeup, I’m gonna have to pass.”

After that snide remark, she had threatened to fire you if you didn’t let her apply the makeup. And so you obliged, though you didn’t have much of a choice.

The booming sounds of the party hit your ears before you had even reached the lawn. Screaming teens—well, there were probably some adults thrown in there as well—and the sound of music spilled through the open windows of the home. Couples and singles alike were scattered throughout the perfectly kept lawn that was now littered with empty cups and other assortments of garbage.

You looked down at your patchwork jeans and pink sweater, certain that you would be underdressed compared to the rest of the partygoers. But from the looks of things, as you carefully squeezed your way through the front door and into the home, everyone was probably too wasted to even notice your arrival, let alone care about your looks.

You caught a glimpse of your face in the hallway mirror, cringing at the sight of your eyeshadow. You had tried to wipe some of it away before arriving, but it simply smudged, giving you quite the shocking smoky, purple eye look. For someone who didn’t even know the difference between a paintbrush and a makeup brush, it was a bold look, to say the least.

If Soobin saw you looking like this, he’d probably have a heart attack.

Soobin.

In the midst of all your frantic preparation, you had nearly forgotten about the main reason why you had planned to avoid this party at all costs. With a quick glance around the room, you realized that he was nowhere to be seen. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t shown up at all. He was never a fan of parties, anyway.

You crossed your arms over your chest and slowly slipped past the couples crowding the hallway with their limbs intertwined, mouths practically swallowing one another whole, until you reached the living room. Surprisingly, it was less crowded in here than you thought it might be. A few minglers were scattered about the room’s perimeter, but they all kept away from the center of the room, which was occupied by none other than Choi Yeonjun and all his brainless, rich-boy worshippers. You quickly scanned the group, not able to make out Soobin among them. When you realized he wasn’t there, you were partly relieved and partly disappointed. If was to be anywhere at this party, it would probably be with these guys.

With a quick turn on your heel, you planned to make your way out of the living room before Yeonjun could see you. The last thing you wanted was for the boy with a bruised ego to see you, regardless of whether or not he had been the one to invite you.

“Y/N? You came?”

Too late.

Plastering a forced grin to your face, you slowly turned to face Yeonjun, who had just called your name. He was eyeing you with slight surprise, but soon, a smirk slipped across his lips as he motioned for you to come over. You had to hold back your sigh, wishing there was some way for you to get out of this situation. It was all Jen’s fault that you had to show up in the first place. You decided you were going to demand an extra ten cents be added to your raise the next time you saw your pushy boss.

“Hey Yeonjun,” you said once you had walked over to him. “I figured I’d stop by for a minute or two, since you were kind enough to invite me.”

He smirked, glancing at a few of his friends. They shared a knowing laugh with one another, but the meaning of it was lost to you. You wanted nothing more than to get away from them, but that wasn’t an option.

“You’re too busy to go out with me to a basketball game but free enough to come to a party, huh?” He asked.

You blinked, digging your nails into your arms. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine, really,” He drawled, swirling his plastic cup of beer in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d be upset or anything did you? I only asked you out because I was dared to shack up with you. But I’m guessing you already knew that, since you’re so smart and all.”

Your eyes went wide, but you managed to control the rest of your expression. It was just like you had guessed—Yeonjun had invited you to the party with the sole purpose of making a scene.

If you survived the night, Jen was never going to hear the end of it.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” He asked, pushing himself to his feet. You could tell by the slight stumble in his step and his hooded eyes that he had quite a bit to drink. He took a step towards you, causing you to back up immediately. Your back hit the wall, and you placed your palms against it as Yeonjun towered over you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know why you’re here anyways.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. “You’re here to see Soobin, aren’t you? Since he’s the only one here willing to waste his time on filth like you.”

Your blood boiled, and you had to clench your fists at your sides to control your anger.

“Don’t,” You seethed, “Call me that.”

“Call you what? Filth? Or sweetheart? Why, is that something good old Binnie used to call you—”

He never got to finish that sentence, because with one big burst of anger, you stomped on his toe as hard as you could with your worn-out platform sneaker.

“What the hell!” He screeched, drawing the attention of several others in the room. His outburst even caused a few of the couples to pull away from each other’s faces long enough to eavesdrop.

Before you could even say anything back, lukewarm liquid was splashed up in your face, burning your eyes and nose. You gasped, running your hands over your eyes to see Yeonjun with his now empty cup of beer pointed towards you.

“Think twice before you act out against me next time, sweetheart. Never forget your place.”

Tears of anger burned in your eyes, and you scanned the room to see several people exchanging whispers and giggles as they glanced in your direction. You pushed past Yeonjun and quickly made your way out the back door of the house, unable to stand the humiliation for a moment longer.

Soobin arrived in the living room just in time to see you leave.

He wasted no time in rushing towards Yeonjun, grabbing hold of his arm. “Yeonjun, was that Y/N?” He asked, eyes quickly taking in the puddle of alcohol on the floor and the empty cup in Yeonjun’s hand. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry your pretty blue head about, Big Choi. I just put her in her place is all.”

Soobin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean you ‘put her in her place?’”

Yeonjun laughed, giving Soobin a nonchalant pat on the back. “Just drop it, would you? It has nothing to do with you.”

“What did you say, Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun was growing irritated now. He huffed out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “I said it has nothing to do with you, Soobin. I know you like to hang around people like that pothead Felix, but the rest of us live in the real world, where we’d rather not waste our time with those who have no future anyways. I bet he’s the one that got you to dye your hair that god awful blue, isn’t he?”

Soobin bit the inside of his cheek. He so badly wished to rip Yeonjun to shreds then and there. If he had Felix’s courage, the cocky bastard would have been knocked to the ground ages ago. But if there was one thing Soobin was sure he could never be, it was brave. And so, despite his rage, he remained silent, his eyes practically burning a hole through Yeonjun’s chest from how intently he was glaring.

It seemed as though Yeonjun was about to say something, but his eyes landed on the bit of red that peeked through the front pocket of Soobin’s denim jacket. Before Soobin had time to defend himself, Yeonjun had reached forward and snatched it from his pocket, revealing the large paper heart—his valentine for you.

“So this is why you care so much,” Yeonjun said, laughing as his eyes scanned the glittery words that decorated the page. “You want her to be your valentine.”

“Give that back,” Soobin said quietly, his hands beginning to shake.

Yeonjun instead lifted his eyes to Soobin, gave him a sickly sweet grin, and ripped the heart straight down the middle. He let the two pieces fall from his hands to the ground, and with them Soobin’s heart went also.

“You’re really willing to try and go against me, and for what? For the sake of a girl who can’t even afford a new pair of jeans and a boy that smokes his life away in the bathroom stalls?” Yeonjun took a slow step towards Soobin, his eyes glinting with a sinister determination. “You may be rich, Soobin, but if you choose to lower yourself to their standards, you may as well be dirt poor just like they are.”

With his hands clenched into tight fists, his glasses sliding down his nose, and his heart quite literally in two pieces on the floor below him, Soobin decided that he had had enough.

“I’d much rather be associated with people who are kind and have actual depth to their character than be lumped together with a bunch of pricks like you with no real personality—because that’s something you can’t buy with daddy’s paycheck.”

He had to physically restrain himself from slapping his hand across his own mouth in shock. It was as if the spirit of Felix himself had possessed him to say such harsh things. He wondered where Felix was then, wishing more than ever before to have his best friend by his side as he began to tremble from either the rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or from fear. Or perhaps it was both.

He didn’t have time to ponder it any longer before Yeonjun’s fist collided with his nose, resulting in a sickening crack as pain echoed throughout his face in tidal waves.

He stumbled backward as people began to shout, raising his hand to his nose and gasping when he saw that his palm was covered in blood.

Beomgyu had his arms wrapped around Yeonjun, who was desperately trying to lunge towards Soobin once again.

“Knock it off, Yeonjun!” Beomgyu shouted, pushing the elder back. “His dad is on the school board! Are you trying to get expelled?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder at the still stunned Soobin, who was gaping at the blood that now stained his once white turtleneck.

“Get lost, Soobin,” Beomgyu said, to which Soobin only blinked in reply, his ears ringing.

“Now!”

Head spinning, Soobin picked up the two halves of his paper heart, stuffed them into his jeans, and stumbled out the same door he had seen you go through just minutes before. After checking to make sure his glasses were still intact—they were, thankfully—he shook his head in an effort to clear his mind of the static, eyes scanning the front lawn looking for any trace of you.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to spot you among the now dwindling crowd of partygoers. Your bright pink sweater stood out against the darkness, so he was able to recognize you even with your back towards him. He sniffed, wiping the back of his hand against his dripping nose as he slowly made his way to where you sat on the curb, your feet planted on the asphalt street. He wished that he looked a bit more presentable—when he played this scene out in his head over the years in which he would finally reunite with you, he never imagined himself dazed and covered in blood.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, he supposed.

When he reached you, he simply stood beside you in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. He could tell that you sensed his presence, but you refused to look up at him as you kept your face buried in your hands. He could have sworn he heard a few muffled sobs slip through your fingers, but of course, he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Eventually he decided to slip his jacket off of his shoulders, leaning down to drape it over you. You still kept your head down as he sat beside you on the curb, but he watched you grip the jacket and pull it tighter around your body. He smiled a bit, holding the collar of his turtleneck against his throbbing nose.

“Thank you,” you muttered, wiping your hand across your eyes. You finally looked over at him, and when you did, you couldn’t hold back your gasp. “My God Soobin, what happened to your face?”

“Oh, well, I might have gotten punched,” He said quickly, trying to wave off your concern. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Punched? By who?”

He looked down at the ground, sniffing as a drop of blood hit the pavement. “Yeonjun,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Yeonjun? Are you insane? Why on earth would you butt heads with the Choi Yeonjun?”

Soobin didn’t say anything in response, he simply stared at you, eyes wide with beer dripping off the ends of your hair, makeup smeared across your face, your sweater stained down the front. It didn’t seem to take long for you to put the pieces together, as the shock left your face and was replaced with something akin to guilt.

“Oh,” You said, looking back down at your shoes.

“So she knows that I did it all for her,” Soobin thought.

For some reason, the idea of that both terrified and excited him.

A second later, he glanced over to see you ripping one of the hand-sewed patches of fabric off your jeans, leaving a square of your skin exposed to the chilly night air. You leaned towards him, pushing his hand away from his nose so you could use the patch to clean up some of the blood on and around his puffy red nose.

“Y/N, your pants!” He exclaimed, trying to push your hand away. “They’re ruined!”

“I’m not worried about my pants, you idiot,” You said, swatting his hand away as you continued to press the cloth against his skin. “You got punched in the face because of me, this is the least I could do.”

“That was my choice though,” He muttered, although he stopped trying to resist your touch. He ignored the way his heart thrummed harder in his chest, hoping that you couldn’t hear.

“Well, this is my choice too.” Your eyes flicked to his for a brief moment, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. “Why did you do it, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“Stand up to Yeonjun for me and get a nasty nosebleed as a result.”

“Oh.” He blinked slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. “Just ‘cause.”

“Because . . . ?”

“Because of you.” He blurted, causing your hand to go still against him. He swallowed his fear, braving the best smile that he could. “Just you. That was my only reason.”

You didn’t say anything as your hand fell from his face, the cloth clutched between your fingers. The anxiety he had tried his best to suppress came rushing up all at once, and he was surprised that his ears didn’t begin to squeal like a tea kettle from all the pressure.

“Y/N,” He said, gently placing his hand over yours despite how his fingers trembled. “Why did you pull away from me?”

“What?”

“Four years ago. Why did you stop talking to me?”

You were quiet for a moment, digging into the ground with the toe of your sneaker. Soobin held his breath until you finally replied with, “I was afraid.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“We were getting older, Binnie,” You said, and his heart skipped at the use of your old nickname for him. “You and I, we’re from very different walks of life. You get to hang out with people like Yeonjun, whereas I get a cup of beer poured all over my face just for existing, and you get a fist to the nose for trying to stand up for me. We’re from different sides of the track, one might say.”

“So?” Soobin asked, his hand tightening around yours. “Did you really think that would affect us that much, Y/N?”

You frowned, glancing down at his hand over yours.

“I thought you’d be embarrassed of me,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Embarrassed?” Soobin’s eyes went wide as he gripped your hand tighter still, pulling it into his lap. “Y/N, I would never, ever be embarrassed of you. Besides, have you seen my best friend? He’s on a first name basis with the principal because of how often he gets written up for smoking behind the school. If I’m not embarrassed of him, why would I ever be embarrassed of you?”

You laughed, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes once more. “I guess I was worried about nothing, huh?” You sniffed, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Soobin.”

He shook his head, squeezing your hand right back. “Don’t apologize. You’re here now, that’s what matters. Do think we could—you know—”

“Pick up where we left off?” You smiled, nodding vigorously. “I’d like that very much, Binnie.”

He beamed then, almost pinching himself to be sure that he was not dreaming, but the pain in his nose was real enough to remind him of that on its own. He jumped to his feet, pulling you right up with him.

“In that case, how about we finally go on that Valentine’s date I had planned all the way back then?”

“Date?” You asked, a brow raised. “Is it really considered a date if two friends are just hanging out?”

He didn’t respond as he pulled you along behind him towards the bushes where he and Felix had hidden his bike. He crouched down and moved the branches aside, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realized that his bike was, in fact, no longer there.

He shot up, turning to face you with eyes wide. “Felix—that bastard took my bike!”

You were quiet for a moment, but then, you burst into boisterous laughter, leaving Soobin utterly confused.

“It’s not funny, Y/N!” He whined, shoving your shoulder lightly. “I was supposed to take you to the Dairy Shack on my bike!”

“It is funny,” You said between bursts of laughter. “Only you would get such a rusty old piece of metal stolen from you.”

He pushed his lips out in a pout, sliding his glasses up his sore nose. “It’s a good bike, don’t make fun of it.”

You grinned, interlocking his fingers with yours, which was enough to instantly wipe the pout right off his face.

“Let’s just walk, Binnie. The Dairy Shack isn’t that far anyways.”

You were right; the walk to your favorite milkshake place was very close to the house where the party had occurred. Although Felix stealing his bike had thrown an obvious wrench in his plans, it was a minor hiccup, and one he could most definitely handle. Besides, he wouldn’t have to see Felix until the next day anyways. He could deal with his frustration then.

At least, that’s what he thought anyways, until the two of you spotted Felix at the skatepark on your way to the dairy shack.

Soobin’s eyes took in the deplorable sight before him—from where he stood on the dimly lit sidewalk, he could see Felix and a girl he had never seen before, their faces nearly pressed together, and most importantly, with his bike discarded a few yards away from them.

“Soobin,” You said, tugging on his arm. “They look like they’re busy, let’s just go—”

But Soobin, who had little patience when it came to Felix messing up his plans, didn’t let you finish before he screamed, “Give me back my freaking bike!”

You had to hold back your snort of laughter at his choice of words. Even when he was trying to sound angry, he was undeniably adorable.

Soobin watched as Felix startled, clutching his spliff between his fingers as he glared daggers back at his friend. Soobin gulped, trying not to let his fear show on his face. What did he have to be afraid of, anyways? He was the victim of thievery, and his best friend was the offender.

Felix took a big step towards him, but he paused, his eyes landing on your interlocked hands. Soobin glanced down as well, his face growing furiously warm as he realized the situation he had gotten himself into.

He decided to divert the subject before it could even be brought up by saying, “I can’t believe you stole my bike! All this time I was trying to hide it from strangers, but you, my best friend! I should’ve been hiding it from you!”

Soobin noticed Felix’s female companion step off the skateboard and walk over in his direction, and for a second he felt bad for possibly ruining her night with his best friend. However, his frustration was more prominent in the moment as he fixed his gaze back on his best friend, who had fixed a mischievous smirk upon his face that made warning sirens blare in Soobin’s head right away.

“Now, now, buddy,” Felix said, his voice calm and carefree as ever. It probably had something to do with what he had just smoked, but Soobin didn’t care all that much. “You’re just gonna have to let me borrow it for a little longer.”

Soobin nearly laughed at the audacity of such a statement. “You are gonna give me the bike, or—”

“How about this, Soobs?” Soobin’s lips clamped shut at his friend’s interruption, as the thief in question gestured with his joint to where Soobin’s fingers were locked with yours. “You let me keep your bike for the night, and I don’t tell your dad about you hanging out with the opposite gender.”

Unable to control yourself, you let out a big laugh. Soobin would have felt betrayed, but he was more terrified than anything else at the idea of his father finding out that he was taking a girl out without his permission. He would be grounded for weeks—no, months.

“You wouldn’t.”

Felix’s lips curled up even more into a twisted grin that Soobin wished he had the guts to slap off his face. “God, just imagine the look on Mr. Choi’s face. Imagine him finding out about your premarital hand holding.”

No. Not the hand holding.

Soobin almost felt faint, but he steeled himself to the best of his abilities as he cleared his throat. “One night, Lix,” he warned. “If I don’t see it on my porch in the morning, you’ll be sorry!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Felix teased. His expression changed a moment later though, when he finally noticed Soobin’s swollen nose and blood-stained turtleneck. “Wait, Soobs, the hell happened to you?”

Soobin, however, had already taken his first steps away from the skatepark, pulling you along behind him. “I’ll tell you later, bud. Enjoy your spliff with that kind girl who you probably don’t deserve!”

“Hey!”

Soobin couldn’t help but laugh as he swung your interlocked hands together, grinning as you let out a laugh as well. The anger that had seeped through him seemed to melt away in an instant as the two of you continued your journey to the Dairy Shack.

“Would your dad really be that upset if he found out about this?” You asked.

Soobin grimaced. “We should probably wait til next year to tell him about this outing. Or maybe the year after that.”

When the two of you had finally reached the Dairy Shack, you waited outside for him while he went in to order your drink. A large chocolate milkshake, with two straws, just like you used to get every time before.

When he had the drink in hand, he walked back outside and sat down beside you on the curb, smiling as you wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders. You smiled back up at him, your eyes creasing from the expression. Your smile had always struck him right to his core; he had missed seeing it every day.

He hoped he could see it every morning and every night from that day onward. There was no way he would let you go this time.

He just had to muster up the courage to grab hold of you first.

“You know what, Binnie, you turned out to be a lot taller than I thought you ever would be,” you said as you took one of the straws from his hands. “You’re actually enormous. It’s shocking.”

“Should I find that offensive? It sounds kinda like an insult.”

“Take it however you will,” You teased, leaning over as he popped the plastic lid off the milkshake. He grabbed the cherry by the stem and held it towards you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, holding out your fist. “We have to rock, paper, scissors for it. Remember?”

Soobin laughed as he shook his head. “I’m giving it to you this time. It’s what I planned to do all those years ago, when I asked you to hang out on Valentine’s.”

You seemed to be taken aback, but you simply shrugged as you plucked the cherry from his hand and pulled it from the stem with your teeth, glancing back over at him. It was silent for a moment, but then your eyes landed on the pocket of his jeans, where you could see a bit of red paper poking out. You leaned over even further, reaching your hand out to snatch the paper.

“What are you—hey! Give that back!”

Soobin desperately tried to take his Valentine back from you, but it was too late. You held both halves of what used to be a whole in your hands, your eyes scanning the words as you pieced them together.

“Soobin . . .”

He held his breath. Had his act of young love left you completely speechless? Were you so touched that you would burst into tears?

“This looks like a middle schooler made it.”

He let out the breath in the form of a long, long sigh.

“That’s because it was made by a middle schooler,” He said as he set the milkshake down beside him. “I made it back in the eighth grade. I planned to give it to you that Valentine’s.”

“Oh.” You ran your finger along the card’s surface, the smallest smile creeping across your lips. “Well in that case, it’s not half bad. Why’s it ripped though?”

“Ah—well, Yeonjun . . .”

You nodded, taking another glance at his swollen nose. “No need to elaborate. It seems you had a lot planned for our Valentine’s Day back then. Is there anything else you wanted to do?”

His mouth went dry at that, and he wished that you couldn’t see his face because he was sure that his expression was quite comical. All the way back then, four years prior, he had in fact planned the perfect, ideal day in his head. Picking you up on his bike, giving you the cherry from his milkshake, and presenting you with his hand made card.

There was only one thing left on his list.

He didn’t move at first, willing himself to have enough courage to even look back in your direction. But when he finally did allow his eyes to meet yours, he felt his shoulders relax and his heart rate became more manageable.

He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against your cheek.

He lingered there for only a moment before he pulled back, daring to pry one of his eyes open to take in the look on your face.

The disappointment was palpable—from the way your brows furrowed together and the way you pursed your lips. His stomach dropped, and he scooted the tiniest bit away from you.

“I’m sorry,” He blurt out, his face growing warmer by the second. “I shouldn’t have done that, I just—”

“Is that all?”

Your question stopped him mid-ramble, his eyes growing wide. “Huh?”

“Is that all?” You repeated, closing the distance between you that he had created. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Soobin. I think we can do better than a peck on the cheek.”

The implications of what you were saying didn’t register with him right away, but when it finally did, he could have sworn his heart began to beat loud enough for the entire town to hear. His hand curled into a fist as he gripped the denim of his jeans. He leaned forward, keeping his eyes open just enough to watch you as he brought his lips closer to yours. He could feel your eyes on him all the while, causing his heart to pound fiercer still within him.

When he was just a breath away, he whispered, “Can you close your eyes?”

“Hm?”

He lifted his hand, gently placing it over your eyes. He leaned closer then, filling the space between you both as his lips met yours. You tasted vaguely of cherry and strawberry slice soda, and he found it quite nice the way his lips seemed to fit perfectly against your own. As the seconds drew on, your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. He slowly let his hand fall from your eyes, tracing lines with the tips of his fingers down your cheek before he cradled your jaw, letting his lips part just enough to taste the sweet sugar on your lips once more.

He thought in a haze that it was a good thing he didn’t drink anything at the party, as kissing you was proving to be intoxicating enough on its own.

When you finally pulled away, leaving your forehead resting against his, he let his eyes flutter open enough to see the euphoric smile that adorned your features. He grinned as well, gently running his thumb against your cheek.

“I think that back then, I had planned to ask you this before kissing you,” He whispered, “But Y/N, will you be my Valentine?”

Instead of a spoken answer, you laughed, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours once again, and that was the only answer Choi Soobin would ever need.

WHEN SOOBIN ARRIVED HOME THAT NIGHT, HE WENT STRAIGHT FOR THE TELEPHONE.

It was kept upstairs at night right outside his parent’s door, to keep himself and his brother from using it in the late hours. Of course, this never stopped Soobin from sneaking it downstairs to his room in the basement to make late night calls to Felix.

And that particular evening, he really needed to give Felix an update.

He grabbed the phone from the small table in the hallway, carefully tiptoeing towards the basement stairs. Before he had even taken the first step down, the bathroom door creaked open. Soobin whipped his head around to see his brother Kai standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he raised a brow at his older brother.

Soobin froze, blinking slowly as he realized the incriminating situation he found himself in.

“Please don’t tell mom,” He whispered, his eyes pleading with his younger brother.

Kai nodded, although Soobin wasn’t quite convinced that the boy was even coherent enough to understand what was going on. Soobin offered a rushed thank you, and ventured his first step down the stairs.

Well, he tried, anyways, and ended up missing the first step. He tumbled down the rest of the stairs, landing on his butt at the very end.

He winced in pain, glad to see that the phone was still intact in his hands. He glanced over his shoulders to see Kai staring down the stairway with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. Soobin quickly put a finger to his lips, begging his brother for silence.

Kai simply shook his head and walked away, allowing Soobin the freedom to breathe out a sigh of relief.

He quickly ran to his bedroom and shut the door, collapsing onto his bed with the phone as his breaths came in ragged gasps as an aftereffect from his tumble down the stairs. He figured he should have dialed Felix’s number right away, but he couldn’t help but brush his fingers against his lips, remembering the feeling and taste of having yours pressed against them.

He was so caught up in his daze that he didn’t notice Felix calling until the third ring.

He picked it up, breathing heavily into the speaker as he rubbed a sore spot on his lower back.

“Please tell me that panting is from running a marathon, and not what I think you’ve successfully tried.”

Soobin nearly gagged, holding the phone away from his face as he coughed, flustered by his friend's crude words. He brought the phone back to his face and said, “No, you sicko, I just fell down the stairs.”

“How the hell did you manage that with those long legs?”

“That’s not important, Lix!” He laid back onto his pillows then, twirling the phone cord in his hands as he stared up at his ceiling, the memories of his adventure with you that night flooding his mind once more. He couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he said, “Look, I need to tell you something important.”

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he could hear the smile in Felix’s voice too as his friend replied.

“Well buddy, I got something to tell you too.”

1K notes · View notes

lunaekalenda · 3 years

Note

hii i wanted to make a request if thats ok?? ive had this idea sat stewing in my mind for so long i-

BUT, w porco and pieck being good friends she drags him to the mall and they go to the makeup store where u work and pieck asks for advice ab smth (you dont have to go into detail if you dont know much ab makeup !!) and porco’s just absolutely starstruck n literally BEGS pieck to take him back so he can see n speak to u again

OR, jean coming in to buy mikasa a gift for valentines day n asking u for advice on what to get, but the bext day he brings it back bc mikasa “rejected it” (he acc just wants to see u again hehe)

sureee! i made a long scenario for pock and a little one for jean cause both ideas were so cool! btw don't get closer to people as Jean did be respectful

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

porco x reader, jean x reader

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

porco.

"I never agreed to enter here with you, Pieck." Porco says, his eyes looking to his best friend, that is about to enter to a make-up store. Pieck turns around, looking to Porco, that has a couple bags on his hands.

"I just need to choose an eyeshadow. Enter with me and help me to choose, please." she asks. Porco clicks his tongue, but he follows his best friend inside the store. You see them and, as your work protocole says, you ask them if they beed help.

At first, you thought they were a couple. The way he was close to her and she laughed all his jokes. You envy that type of relationship, but you're happy to see them having such a healthy one. You go closer, that couple are your customers, after all.

"Hi, can I help you?"

You don't know it, but Porco's brain stopped working with normality when he heard your voice. So sweet to him, that's the kind of voice he would love to hear every morning when he wakes up and every night right before sleep. His eyes search you and he finds you easily, his eyes finding your body near a makeup shelf, dressed with the shop uniform. His eyes scan your face, the smile youm're giving them. Pieck quickly notices how his friend got bewitched. She smiles.

"Hi, hi, sure! I need some help.... My friend isn't that smart for makeup, you know?" she laughs, making him react. He blushes. He doesn't know even what you're talking about.

"No worries, that's my work, after all." you say. Pieck nods and takes her phone out of her bag. "So, I have this party dress, the party being in three days, and I need an eyeshadow palette that goes with it. Also, I would like to have a discrete base and some highlighter." she asks, with a cute and sweet smile. You nod. "Sure! Sit here, I'll be right back with some products."

She sits, thanking you, and Porco stands by her side, looking at how you disappear between shelfs full of makeup products.

"Pretty, isn't?" Pieck asks. She isn't even looking at him. "Why don't you go and help to hold all the things?" She says. He looks at you again. Maybe you're having trouble with all those creams and delicate palettes. One hit and they will be destroyed. He nods quietly and gets next to you.

"Do you need help?" he asks, while he kneels next to you. You blush for the repentine talk. He is even more handsome there, near you, with his honey eyes looking at yours while his big hands help to lift the boxes you have on the ground. "I'll take this."

"Oh, sure. Thanks." you thank him, winning a smile. He follows you while you keep selecting things.

"Wow, you know a lot about this..." he says. You laugh.

"Yeah, I always liked makeup. But your girlfriend does, as well. And she's pretty, she will be beautiful with every single color." Porco lets out a little laugh.

"We aren't dating, we're close friends. She's like my big sister. She always took care of me." he says. You nod and go back to her seat. You tell him he can sit on the chair next to her mirror. Pieck often asks him about the makeup while you're aplying it, but Porco is more centred on the delicate touches you give her skin with the sponge, how you also move your lips while putting her some lipstick, how you blow softly on the palette to avoid excess of shade. Pieck looks good, but he can't even look at her. You have all his attention, you've capted all of it. Pieck smiles, looking happy at her reflection. She likes it. In the mirror, she can see how you look back to Porco, him smiling at you again. Does that look like... Porco liking you?

Pieck pays the makeup she's buying, asking how much she debts you for the makeup session.

"It is for free. It's just a trial. Be back whenever you want! And, thanks for the help." you say, this time looking at Porco. He smiles quietly. You smile at him back and they leave the store, waving their hands at you. Once the two of them are out, Pieck sighs.

"Say it, Galliard."

"So fucking pretty." he says, turning around, looking at you through the glass. "Their voice, their smile, oh, godess. I want to see them again. Do you need to buy something tomorrow?" he asks.

Pieck raises a brow. The boy that said 'I never agreed to enter' it's now begging to go back.

"I bought all I needed today, so nope."

"Oh, come on, Pieck. Sure you need another lipstick or a nail polish." he says. He looks back again, finding your eyes while you clean the glass. You blush. He caught you in 4K. He smiles at you again. "Definitely, we'll be back tomorrow." he says. Pieck sighs.

Sure, that's why she intentionally forgot the nail polish.

jean

Valentine's day for Jean is the most difficult day of the year, and since things with Mikasa are being a little cold lately, he's even more lost this year but he has to buy something. For her.

That's why there's a huge and handsome man looking at the girl section as if he was decrypting a secret code. You get closer.

"Can I help you?"

He looks at you. His eyes against yours. Yo smile. "I work here." you show him the little pin with your name. He nods.

"I need a cologne for my girlfriend." he says. Why is he feeling as if the temperature raised suddenly? "Wich ones do you recommend?" he asks. Oh, you have this one. Your favorite cologne ever. The one made with cotton flowers. You show it to him.

"I use this cologne every day, it gets really comfy and it doesn't matter how much time passes from when you put it on, it still smells as good as the beginning." he raises a brow, looking to the cologne. Is that true? You nod, taking your hair, letting him smell it.

"Yeah?" he asks. He leans against you a little, just making his head reach your hair for a second. "Oh, it smells good. I want this one." You nod, smiling. He finds attractive the curve of your neck. How his bites would look so good there. He cleans his throat. He's trying to save his relationship.

Maybe it is insalvable?

Next day, you get surprised when you find him again. But he isn't looking colognes. He gives the cologne to you.

"She didn't like it. She doesn't even like me anymore, I guess"

taglist <3: @dazaisusedbandages @lazyezstudy @riiza @levi-is-a-cutie @sassyjeankrs

95 notes · View notes

binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

1-800-Be-Mine | reader x minho | sfw

happy valentines day!! this lil fic of mine is something very new and different from what I’ve tried before and I’m so so excited to share it with you!!

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x lee minho

Genre: fluff, sci-fi, futuristic au, valentines day special!

Tags: strangers to lovers, sci-fi au, futuristic au, blind date au, AI au with a twist, mentions of food and alcohol, featuring hyunjin, tiny heart-shaped confetti of comedy and rebelling against the man lol, fluffy growing feelings

Warnings: Minho’s character in this is an adorable, charming, feeling, AI robot. haha idk if this is a warning but it might not be everyone’s cup o’ tea, if so, that’s why I’m mentioning it :)

Tagging: @stayhavens thank you for allowing me to be a part of this event ❤️

Word count: 7.1k

“If it’s the color of your shirt that you’re worried about, I don’t think that he’s gonna care.”

“--I can’t believe that you’re putting me through this. I didn’t even ask for...whatever the hell this all is.”

“You’re getting worked up over nothing, Y/n. This whole thing is literally the lowest commitment thing that you could ever do on Valentines Day.”

For the twentieth time, you held up the shirt and hanger over your torso in front of you streak-stained mirror. It shouldn’t have mattered much, or even at all, but here you were, wondering what color a synthetic human would like on your body the most.

With feet in the air, your best friend swung his feet with pointed toes and eyes glued to his phone.

“Quit looking at me like that.” Hyunjin didn’t even need to rise his head up to feel your glare. “He’s programmed to forget about you the second that your time runs out, so, I really don’t know why you’re wasting your time over this.”

One more time, you switched the creamy white satin for the wine-red velvet.

“God, this is so depressing.” The shirt hangers clinked together where you threw them down on your bed. “It’s all your fault too.”

“I can’t see why you aren’t excited for this!! I literally made it so he’s perfect for you. There’s like, a 0% chance that this is gonna go badly. You could spit escargot into his lap or get his tie stuck in the car door and he’d still think that you’re the best thing ever. You can do no wrong.”

“That’s the point...”

The floor started to look a lot more appealing in your despair. If you were making a dramatic show for yourself or for you friend, you had no idea, but somehow it felt a little better letting your body sliiide down the side of the wall into a little pool of half-done make-up and hair still damp.

“Stop throwing a tantrum.” Hyunjin scolded. “You have to be there in 45 minutes.”

“What if I...just don’t show up?”

“Then, you’d be robbing me of $360 and the most expensive gift that I’ve ever gotten for you. And, you’d break my heart. I don’t wanna be heartbroken on Valentines Day. I’d hate you forever.”

“Nooooo you wouldn’t.” You tossed your forehead into the palms of your hands.

“I’d hate you for a month probably.”

“Don’t you have somewhere that you need to be?” As expected, your hands were smudged a bit from the tiny dusting of eyeshadow that you had added to your lids.

“I told you already, she doesn’t get off until 8 so I’ve still got time. Besides, I already set everything up back at the apartment. I’m in no rush.” At last, your friend cast aside his phone on the mattress with a bounce. “Get up. I’ll help you. You should still look nice anyway...even if he doesn’t care. This night is about you anyway.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Is satin supposed to feel scratchy...? What? Satin being itchy? ...You must be going crazy if you think--

“--Annnd we’re here!”

The wheels of Hyunjin’s less than glamourous car skidded in front of the hotel with an obvious screech. He was never one for being a good driver anyway. With the pull of his hand through is blond hair he nodded his head for you to open your door.

“Time’s ticking. It’s nearly 7.”

“--Jin--”

“I’m not explaining it again. Just go do the damn thing. You’re overthinking it. Like you do with everything...”

Your best friend rolled his eyes which were blue today: a part of his own Valentines Day outfit: that of which he looked much better than you thought you had. He had slung his arm over his steering wheel looking on, and even more impatient with you by the second.

“Is it a fucking crime to be nervous??”

Hyunjin laughed out sharply. “You’re so cute. ~Especially when there isn’t anything to worry about.~”

You flicked him hard on his perfect arm covered by his perfectly planned and billowy white top.

“Would you like to go out there and meet him if it’s so easy?”

After a subsequent eye roll, your friend reached his long arm to pop open the car door on your side. “You’re not going to make me drag you, are you?”

“I can get it myself.” You growled, shoving his hand away.

The February air was crisp, and just cold enough for your breath to appear lightly in front of your face. Immediately, you started to regret everything: the itchy satin shirt (which you guessed probably wasn’t satin) the stiffness of your styled hair, and the way that your feet felt in the pair of shoes that you had broken out just for the occasion. You had even put perfume on; something that a “strictly deodorant” person as yourself found to be suffocating and odd.

Do Mirrors even have a sense of smell?

On the busy street, cars whipped past with headlights of yellow and red, and the bustle of the holiday evening buzzed on the sidewalk with couples marching down the way arm and arm and hand in hand. The energy of the evening seemed vibrant almost as if the whole world seemed to be slightly more awake. The plastic heels of ladies in their best shoes clicked past.

“Good luck!”

Hyunjin mustered up the most genuine smile that you thought possible for him to craft considering it wasn’t genuine in the slightest.

“Text me about it tonight--or--actually, not tonight, I’ll be...” He obviously winked, “...busy tonight.”

“You’re disgusting!!”

You slammed the car door in Hyunjin’s snide smirk while he laughed out a “Love you!” before speeding away without a care.

The remnants of old snow caked up in the corners of the hotel where Hyunjin had arranged the date. The hotel itself was very old fashioned looking, almost like it had come right out of one of those old movies he would tease you for liking--it was probably why he had chosen it, you thought to yourself. There was a large golden marquee with a strand of lightbulbs tracing the edge all around it much like an old-timey theater, which gave the name for the hotel. At the doorway made of the same golden hue, there were attentive bellhops in matching blue velvet uniforms and leather gloves that they blew in to to keep their hands warm.

When you thought more of it, the night was a bit colder than expected, so you pulled your coat closer to your body. Hyunjin had suggested that you wear your pea coat, however it’s warmth factor wasn’t something to write home about. He had something about how it had made your arms look good...as if he would care anything like what your arms looked like.

You pulled out your phone with your cold fingers to find the information that Hyunjin had sent you.

Name: Lee Minho

Model: Generation Four

Specifications: Personalized

Service time: 7pm-12am

Instructions: Meet at the front entrance of the the hotel The Grand at exactly 7pm where the Mirror will be waiting. Mirror will look like: [see image]

You hovered your hand over the little see image tab. Before, you had decided that you didn’t want to see the picture, and rather leave it as a surprise. That was the thrill of a blind date, right? For a moment, you rationalized it as peeking so that you knew what he looked like so you could find him. You hovered, and hovered...

“No, I shouldn’t...” You whispered out to the open air while you shoved your phone back into your pocket.

“Excuse me?” One of those attentive bellhops had snuck behind you and rose a caring hand to your shoulder: an action which made you jump. “Is there anything that I can help you with? Are you waiting for someone?”

“Oh.” You straightened yourself. “Yes, I am waiting for someone. They’ll be here really--”

“--Is it me that you’re waiting for?”

He had strolled right up to you, and you could barely form the words on your mouth to say “yes.” You had heard the stories about Mirrors before, but as far as you had known, this was your first time ever seeing one this close...and you wouldn’t have even known that he was any different from the flesh and bones that you knew you had.

He was devastatingly handsome; the kind of handsome that models were. Every single one of his features seemed to be carefully planned and calculated down to the little freckle on his nostril and his nose bridge of a perfect angle. Even his physical proportions seemed to be perfect: his arm muscles curved in wonderful angles under his black suit jacket that had one button at the front. He was dressed simply: merely a black tux with a white button up underneath and a deep navy blue tie. His chocolate brown eyes were a bit unique, looking even slightly cat-like.

Not like you had a type, but if you were to have one, he definitely would have been it.

He smiled upon seeing you, and coolly adjusted his silver cufflinks which you noticed had an insignia on them that looked a familiar: it was that picture of the eye with the spokes around it, the symbol of 3rdEyeCorp. As expected, everything in life seemed to come with a branding: even synthetic humans.

“Should we go inside?”

His voice was gentle and soothing, the kind of voice that you knew could lull you to sleep or convince you to do things that you wouldn’t want to. It was a voice that could put you at ease, and you wondered if that was intentional. Perhaps Hyunjin had told them that at times you could be neurotic.

You finally squeaked out a, “Yes.” then followed him towards the soft glow of the magnificent building. He had slipped over past you to open the door, letting you enter first.

“Oh...thanks...”

As you passed him, you could have sworn that he smelled like some kind of citrus scent. In fact, you didn’t know that he could even have a smell. This was but one of the many questions that had been plaguing you for the past couple weeks since learning of Hyunjin’s plan.

It wasn’t that he smelled like a person: that kind of earthy scene mixed up with the lingering scent of shampoo on hair, or a bit of mint holding to the corners of your mouth after you had brushed your teeth right before you exited the door. Still, you didn’t mind the citrus, it was better than nothing at all, you assumed.

He walked up to the maître d with perfect posture, and it was then when you noticed that you were slightly shorter that he was. His suit was pressed, and a line ran down the back directly over his spine.

“2 for L/n?” He said properly, and it felt strange hearing your last name come from his mouth.

“Right this way.”

He looked back at you, almost as if to see if you were doing okay. He held a little glint in his eyes that looked careful, caring even. From the very few words that he had said to you, he still maintained a composure about him that was...human. He was comfortable.

The three of you reached the table with the ironed white table cloth, small bouquet of red roses and two flickering tea candles. The lighting of the room was dim as all restaurants such as this were, and there was a light hum about the room coupled with the occasional clink of silverware on China. There was a fireplace to the corner of the room, and the dense smell of expensive wine hung in the air.

The maître d placed down the menus. “Your server will be with you shortly.”

You thought the small action a bit comical. You were the only one who knew his secret. Still, he nodded with a polite smile. “Thank you.”

The satin fabric on your shirt scraped at your bare chest, and you attempted your slyest attempt at making a tiny itch look nonchalant. He picked up the menu with a few of his brown strands dipping over his eyes. You studied him as he looked it over, not having a clue why. You thought that you had heard somewhere that his kind couldn’t eat. Perhaps he was a new model.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t formally introduced myself yet.” He put the menu down with a little embarrassed smile. “I must’ve forgotten. I’m Lee Minho.”

“I know.” Your cheeks felt hot. “Uh-and I’m Y/n. But--you probably knew that too.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Smile lines crinkled under his eyes. It was the first imperfection you could find about him.

“Yo-you too.”

Minho reached out a slender and pale hand for you to shake and you stared it in a moment of fear. You had never touched a Mirror before, much less wondered what they felt like.

“I don’t bite.” He chuckled out a small laugh that was much too cute for his own good. His shoulders then appeared to relax and he allowed himself to slouch. “At least, my model doesn’t.”

You choked out an ugly chortle at the joke. “Ah. I see.”

“You don’t have to be scared of me. I promise that I feel like anyone else.”

You took it, jumping a little at the sensation. He was warm--not exactly like you expected him to be cold and metallic however. The skin of his hand was cracked and grooved as normal, and it was squishy as if you could feel the muscles that would be underneath.

With a warm grin, he soothed you saying, “See?”

‘Oh...mmhm.” You shook his hand firmly. “Holy shit that's really creepy.” You muttered the words as softly as you thought you could have.

“Creepy?” He laughed out again. “Should I be offended? No one has ever called me creepy before.”

“Oh! Um, s-sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“--It’s okay! I was just kidding. I completely understand. Especially if this is your first time meeting someone like me. It is your first time?”

You nodded drawing your hand back with the warmth from his hand still lingering on yours.

“Let me know if there is anything that I can do to make you more comfortable. Seems like...we’re meant to be too.”

“--Meant to be?” You nearly dropped your cloth napkin to the ground.

“I mean, based off of your profile, they thought that I would be best suited for you. And you know...the programming and all that.”

“Oh! I guess so...”

Next, you thought it best to busy yourself with that glass of water that was looking very oddly refreshing.

“I meant to tell you as well that you look very nice. I think that color suits you very well.”

Drops of water got caught in your throat, “T-AHEM-this?” You pinched at the fabric.

Minho’s eyes widened at your sputtering coughs, signaling to a waiter to come fill your glass once more.

“Sorry, was I not supposed to say that?”

“No! No no, it’s...you’re fine. I was just a little surprised.”

“Surprised? Why?”

“I just didn’t think that you would...nevermind.”

Even though you had nearly choked yourself seconds ago, up went your water glass to your lips once more.

Minho fidgeted with his bangs with his pinky finger: a surprisingly vain little task. Under the dull lighting of the whole room, he did look very handsome; almost much too handsome to be in such a place with you. All at once, you became suddenly aware of the irregular patterns of those eyes peeking at you from their own tables with haughty and whispering words on their lips.

“You look...very nice as well.”

“Mm thank you.” As charming as ever, he gave a smile back. “This is my first time wearing this. I actually picked it out myself. I thought that you would like the color.” His pale fingers ran down the silk indigo tie.

“You thought about it too??”

“Thought about what?”

A snide smile crept over your mouth. Hyunjin could eat his words.

“Well do you? Like it?” A curious little smearing of worry painted Minho’s brow that was once again must too cute for his own good.

“I-I do like it.”

In all honesty, Minho would have looked good in anything, you thought, no matter how ridiculous. Under the thin white cotton of his shirt, you could see his toned pectorals as well. One pinch to the side of your leg was just enough to scold yourself.

He looked around himself in a bit of a silent wonder: from the rafters of the high ceilings painted in gold leaf, to the speakeasy on the far edge of the room with the posh looking bartender.

“I always thought that places like this were kind of stuffy.” He wrinkled his nose.

“You...what?”

“There's always someone at one table wondering if they look better, rank higher, or are more successful than the person at the other. Don’t you think the same?”

“I mean...I think they do keep looking us?”

“Ah. I noticed that too.”

Minho looked around himself carefully, then leaned in closer towards you. “Do you think that they know that I’m...you know?”

You snorted out a laugh covered by your hand. “What? No? How could they?”

“A hunch.”

“Can you even get hunches?”

“I may be a robot, but I can still read a room.”

You hushed him, “Shhhh! Say that any louder and then they’ll really know.”

A waiter in a black apron sauntered up to your table with a thin moustache and a big of a sagging face. He looked a bit less like a real waiter and more like a cartoon one.

“Good evening. Have you finished looking over the menus? Perhaps a bottle of wine to start you off? We have a new house merlot that I would highly recommend.” He reached a spiny finger to point at the name on your menu. “It would pair particularly well with our specials tonight. Seeing as it is Valentines day--”

The droning of the waiter continued on, and you had noticed that Minho wasn’t paying any attention at all. Rather, he had settled his gaze on the flickering of the candles, and the yellow light sparked in his pupils. For mere seconds, you could see something a bit different about them: a extremely thin circle of blue-white light around his irises.

The waiter pulled out his pad with an expectant gaze.

“Uh-yeah, I-I’ll take that. That--whatever-you-just-mentioned.”

He appeared puzzled. “You wish to start with the special orange Crème Brule first?”

“Ah-no! Sorry, can you..” You cringed, “Repeat what you just said?”

He rolled his eyes, but did respectfully as he was told while you sunk further into your chair with Minho’s teasing smirk. This time you listened to the specials, even though you decided you didn’t even want one, but rather picked one of the cheapest items on the menu. That was one of the drawbacks of paying for your date: he had no obligation to pay for your meal.

The waiter looked even more puzzled when Minho said he wasn’t ordering anything, but shrugged, burying his pad back into his pocket saying, “I’ll be over with the wine shortly.”

“Do you want to know something?” Minho leaned back in once the waiter was out of an earshot.

You treated yourself to yet another sip of your emptying glass, and nodded.

“There’s at least four others like me in here.”

“Four? How can you know?”

“I think I’d know my own kind when I saw them.”

“I would never be able to tell.”

The waiter returned, showing the label to the wine to both of you before popping it open and pouring it into glasses with the twist of his wrist. Two drops from the crimson top stained the little napkin he used.

Minho’s hands toyed with the stem of the glass, but didn’t take a sip.

“That’s why they call us Mirrors.”

“How do you mean?”

“Because you’re supposed to see yourselves in us.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your body had started to warm with the energy of the room after long, and your appetizer of escargot had arrived. Oddly, since Hyunjin had mentioned it before, it embedded in you an odd craving that you couldn’t satisfy until you had some. By now, you had realized that Minho likely wouldn’t have been eating with you, but it was strange: even the other Mirrors in the room appeared to be.

“I’m assuming that you can’t eat then?” You popped the buttery taste into your mouth.

“Yes. It doesn’t make sense for my...biology. If you can call it that. I can’t digest food nor do I have the mechanisms to do so.”

“Maybe we should have done something that didn’t include food then.”

“I do have something though! I know that eating alone like this can be uncomfortable.”

He grabbed inside his inside suit pocket and pulled out a wallet: thin and black leather. It had almost nothing in it save for what looked like a iridescent square. Over top of it was the same logo on his cufflinks. He flipped it around his fingers like a playing card.

“What is it?”

“My dinner.” He sated matter-of-factly.

“You’re gonna...eat that? Maybe you shouldn’t--”

He placed it neatly in front of himself, pressing the surface and it morphed into some kind of three dimensional polygon shape of pixels, both large and small, until it settled into a perfect copy of your dish that you had sitting in front of you.

“It’s holographic.”

“Of course it is.”

“Newest in tech at 3rdEye. This is my first time using one. They thought it would be a good idea to send the prototypes out with the Mirrors tonight for the beta test. What do you think?”

“It’s very...realistic.”

“It’s pocket sized, and it can really transform into anything that you could want, but of course...its still not really solid. Perfect for me though.”

He took a bite of his escargot with an equally holographic fork.

“I imagine that it tastes very good.”

“You can’t taste things?”

“Unfortunately, no. Since I don’t need to eat, don’t know why I would need to. I’ve got all the other senses though.”

The house merlot was bitter on your tongue and full bodied. You couldn’t imagine what your life would have been like without taste. He chewed on, and somehow the action really did seem comforting.

“You’re very um, open about yourself. You know...talking about yourself so bluntly. I feel like some people when they do these things, they just want to keep on that suspension of disbelief as long as they can; pretending that you're--”

“--A real person?”

You hadn’t intended on it coming off as insulting, and a “sorry” formed on your lips.

“--I’m not offended. And, you’re right. Most people do. But, I could sense that you were different. I don’t have a problem telling you about me. Something told me that you would like to know.”

“Something?”

“Enough about me though, lets talk about you. You’re a doctor aren’t you?”

“-For animals. Nothing too crazy. I’m working up my way to have my own practice some day. For now, I’m just doing nurse type stuff. Giving immunizations, checking teeth and stuff like that.”

“I read your thesis. The one from your pre-vet. I thought that your research was very interesting. How come you didn’t continue on with animal behavior?”

His string of questions made you crack out into laughter. Never had anyone you had ever dated said that they had read up on you.

“I can’t believe that you just said that.”

“What? I had assumed that you might want to talk about something that interests you like that.”

“That was...so long ago, I don’t even think about that paper anymore.”

Minho took some of his wine down with a polite dab of his napkin to his lips.

“How about hiking then? Or those Frank Capra movies that you like? Which one is your favorite?”

“Stop, stop. This is--”

His eyes widened. “Did I misspeak again? Your friend said that it would be okay if we did the proper research--”

“--Just...sorry, it’s strange that you know everything about me already and we’ve hardly just met.”

“I’m not following.”

“Can you just...forget like, everything you know about me for a minute? This is supposed to be a blind date isn’t it?”

“I can do that.” Minho tightened his tie.

“How about we talk about something else?”

Minho nodded in agreement with a determined tiny grin. “I can tell you about what I do?”

“You have a job?”

Your prompt waiter appeared with a giant silver platter which glinted in the light of the numerous dancing candles around it. The ceramic plates clinked into the glasses assorted on the table, and he lastly offered out freshly grated parmesan for your pasta. You said “when” and he was just as quickly out of your way, but not after granting the both of you one more questioning glare.

“Yes.”

Your date flipped over his holographic square, and soon it transformed into another spitting image of your meal.

“I’m supposed to tell you that I’m a college professor of ornithology but since we’re being blunt here, my job is working for 3rdEye, and doing basically whatever they ask of me. Including this. And actually...” He twisted a string of noodles around his fork. “...I think that it’s going pretty well.”

A quick giggle erupted out from you. “I’m glad that we’re being honest because you do not look like someone who teaches twenty somethings about birds.”

“But if I had said I did, would that have made you like me more?”

“Maybe. I’m sure that they picked that because I did graduate research on migration and flight patterns.”

“Likely.”

“Maybe I should have stuck with animal behavior. Then we would have had more to talk about.”

A silence filled the space between you as you tried your best to eat your pasta with as much grace as you could. Of course, you were still one to get it on your lap and the table cloth, but luckily you had a napkin to protect you. Your date on the other hand, ate as if he was eating with the queen herself. For several moments, you really did allow yourself those brief moments of ignorance: you really were just two people, sitting in a fancy restaurant on Valentines Day, eating a meal together, on a date, as an normal two people would do. Every few moments too, he would look at you with a type of gentle adoration in his eyes too.

And it felt nice.

It really was as effortless as Hyunjin had said. You would be eating your words on this one.

At last, you had scraped out the last chunks of tomato and vegetable bites from your shallow dish, and you sat back which a sense of drowsiness clinging to your eyes. Over time, you had slumped deeper and deeper into your chair as you felt your body warm with the fireplace. You didn’t mean to look, but your watch had read just past 9 o’clock.

“That all tasted good.” Minho sighed, and slumped along with you.

“I thought you couldn’t taste?”

“Ah. You’re right. Well, I enjoyed eating that with you. Did it taste good?”

“It did.”

“Should we get some of that orange Crème Brule from earlier?”

You folded up your napkin on the table. “You mean should I get some of that Crème Brule? I’m the one paying here remember?”

“Are you?”

With the stretch of your arms, you answered, “Not today. I don’t have that doctor’s pay...yet.”

“But shouldn’t you eat something sweet on Valentines Day? Isn’t that also what its about?”

You laughed, “I don’t know where you heard that, but no, it doesn’t.”

“Ah, I see. My understanding of the holiday is very jumbled. Holidays are like that for us. The sort of emotional attachment to them is hard for us to understand. I’ve watched millions of hours of films to understand them...but--”

“--Millions?”

“Yes?”

“That’s…insane.”

“Not for me.” He said with a happy little grin. “Should we be leaving?”

In one motion, he swept up his shirt sleeve, just over his wrist where you had expected him to have a watch. Instead, a faint blue glow emerged on his skin making letters and numbers that you couldn’t read as well from upside down.

“Hm. 3 more hours. What else would you like to do with our time together?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The winter cold bit at your ears while the two of you walked together down the busy urban stretch. Even later into the night the giddy excitement of friends ambling down the streets and couples linking to eachother with tipsy happiness could still be found everywhere. You barely knew him, but you still felt in some way compelled to reach out and interlock your arm with his as those other couples did. You had a half a mind to reach out to him, but another half a mind to keep your arms wrapped around yourself.

But, as if he had read your mind, he reached out his hand behind him to quietly slip your arm into his.

“Put your hands in your pockets.” He asked, and you did so. “I figured that you must be cold, so...my body heats itself too, makes me more...you know.”

He was warm. Much warmer than your entire body felt had felt then, but still you noted that the tips of his ears and nose had turned pink.

“Where to?” He questioned next.

“I-I’m not sure. I didn’t think this far.”

“I could pick?”

“You know where to go?”

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. “There’s a place that I wouldn’t mind going to. Do you know how to skate?”

“Ice...skate?”

He huffed out with a tiny smile, and you noticed that when he did, no visible molecules could be seen in front of his face.

“Do you? I can pick something else? It’s not everyone’s skill.”

“N-no. I can do it.”

You don’t know why you had said it: perhaps you felt as if you had something to prove to this inhuman person, or you really did want to go there with him, no matter where it was.

You had never learned how to skate in your life.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The ice rink was lined with pink and white string lights: likely a Valentines Day decoration. Plastic hearts made of fuzzy tinsel also decorated the edges of the rink and sparkled under the lights. It had been built into the center of a public park, and bodies huddled in winter coats sat together on the benches to the side, waving at those they knew when they slipped past. Tinny music played over the outdoor speakers: it was some pop song that you had heard before, but didn’t know the name of.

Minho laced up your skates for you, and even then you noticed that his knuckles had turned pink too.

“Are you...cold?”

“Oh! This?” He turned his hands around. “No, I’m not. it’s just another one of my humanisms.”

“Humanisms?”

“Something to make me look more like you. When it’s cold outside my body senses it and does this.”

“I see.”

Even if you knew that he couldn’t possibly feel things in the same why, he was damn convincing--and you couldn’t help but think it was unbearably cute as well.

“Done! You ready? You can take my hand if you want?”

You stood wobbly as a deer taking its first steps. Walking on the blades was much more difficult than you would have guessed. He didn’t need to ask twice for you to grab hold.

“I’m assuming that you know how to do this?”

“There’s a lot of things that I know how to do.” He winked.

The second that your feet met the ice, you felt your heart start beating into overdrive with your anxiety of falling. Over the ice, it too felt colder, and that didn’t help much either. With one hand you clawed to the side of the rink, and the other dug into Minho’s arm.

“I thought that you said that you knew how to skate?”

“I lied. I’m gonna fall on my fricking face and its gonna be the most embarrassing thing ever. Worse than spitting escargot into your lap.”

“Spitting escargot? What?”

“Just--can you help me?”

He tittered with an adorably warm laugh and grabbed back at you firmly. “I won’t let go.”

Even the toddlers in their little training bumpers were more skilled than you. Minho was patient, and coached you through the skills of the left and right motions of your feet and getting into a rhythm. You still flapped your arms around wildly like a wobbly penguin, but he was eventually able to coax you away from the wall.

“See! You’re getting the hang of it!”

“Really?”

Minho nodded profusely, letting go of both of your hands to hold just one. “Stop looking at your feet and just look at me. You’ll trip yourself up focusing so hard.”

Other couples whipped past you, and you thought it best not to look at how easy it was for them.

“I-I think that I’m doing it!”

Minho’s eyes lit seeing you start to swing your feet back and forth. In that pink lighting of the rink, you could see that thin ring of light around his eyes once more. Even though it was unnatural, you still thought that it looked beautiful.

“WATCH OUT!!” Came a distant voice from behind you.

Before you had a second to turn around, a fuzzy blur came barreling into you. Two small bodies: a couple middle school boys chasing each other, came colliding with your teetering body, forcing you to fall to the hard ice with a terrible thud.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” One of their pre-pubescent voices cracked.

“I-I’m fine...I think.”

Your air had been knocked right out of your lungs and your butt ached with a sharp pain that you hoped you wouldn’t be feeling for days. Both of your hands were wet with ice from the contact. Minho quickly offered you his hand up.

“-You okay?” He brushed ice off of your coat.

Truthfully, you were horribly shaken, and your chest shook, but you lied once more. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“No you’re not.” His worried eyes studied you. “Lets get you something warm to drink okay?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“One hot chocolate please.”

Minho fiddled with his wallet, picking out that same iridescent square from before. As soon as his fingers touched it, it glimmered into a credit card.

“It can do that?” You had uttered, but he gave you back a cautious glare.

The man at the little coffee stand took it without question, and somehow, it worked.

“$3.15″ He monotoned, and gave the card back.

The white Styrofoam cup warmed your hands instantly, and the chocolatey steam delighted your nostrils.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem. I wanted to.”

You took a sip, but a strange silence befell over your date, and he furrowed his brows.

Under his breath, he repeated the word “...wanted?”

The further that you walked along the river together, the less that you wanted to take another look at your watch where it peaked out from your coat sleeve. You imagined that it must have been nearing almost 10:30--optimistically. Instead, you took long and purposeful sips of of your drink and indulged in the way that the heat would seep down from your throat and all the way down your body.

Onward, one of the great and massive bridges of the city blinked with an array of multicolored lights: some from cars, others from the way that it was decorated to look a bit like shining stars. Under the lights, the navy-black of the river reflected the fractals of light. The walkway was nearly empty of people except for the odd couple sitting and cuddled up by the edge of the water. The water should have been frozen, but it didn’t appear to be giving up just yet.

Your companion had drawn quiet with eyes cast down to his walking feet. You had half a mind to reach out to him...

“Is there anything you would like to do?” Your question filled the quiet, but you didn’t expect him to stop in his steps upon hearing it.

“Are you asking me if there is anything that I want do to?”

“Yes...?”

Minho was again quiet, then turned to look at the vast expanse of the cityscape in front of you both.

Suddenly, he began, “Valentines Day is a holiday that has to do with loving, doesn’t it?”

You stammered at the question in your confusion, but still answered. “Yes.”

“You express love on the holiday? You show people that you love them, and that you care for them. Right?”

“I think so...but why are--”

“--What do you think that it means to love something?”

Distantly, cars honked, and music boomed out from drawn down windows, and it floated in the evening air.

For you, loving was something that was second nature. It was little bits of happiness, fuzzy feelings, but it also ached, and felt like being lost. How could you possibly begin to describe what it meant?

Minho’s eyes were full of intrigue and even maybe a twinge of desperation. Could Mirrors even hold such a thing in their eyes?

“I-I’m not sure how to cover it all, but, I guess that I could say that loving something, or someone, is to want them. You want to be around them, you want to see them laugh or smile, you want to make them feel that you care. I don’t think that it is much more complicated than that.

The man appeared even more confused, almost like he had been computing his own mental calculations right before his very eyes. Then, all at once, his eyes softened.

“If loving something is to want it; to have desire, desiring is the first step? Love must be simplier than I thought that it was, and maybe...I think that I can do it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Minho swept up his hands in yours after casting aside the cup to the ground.

“You asked me if I wanted to do something. But the thing is...I don’t think I’ve ever wanted do to anything ever before in my life. It was just, what others wanted of me and what I colud do for them. Not me.”

Realization swept over Minho piece by piece, and soon it all unfolded for you too.

He drew your arms and hands around the back of his neck to pull your body closer to his.

You might’ve looked before, but his lips looked soft and unbelievably sweet: like melting snowflakes, whipped cream, or the fuzzy flesh of peaches.

“I do want something.” He said at last.

“Minho...what are you saying?”

“I-I can’t tell if what it is that I’m feeling is some kind of algorithm, or I’m just...you’re so...different.”

“I hope that you’re not just saying this all--”

“--I’m not! I’m not. I promise...an-and Mirrors can’t lie.” He laughed out. “How can you make a machine that’ll lie to you?”

His hands crept up your sides, and all the way up to cup your face in his hands.

He was impossible. In every way, but he was real. As real as the warmth from his hands and as real as the way that his mouth appeared to wet with saliva and how you could count the tiny moles on his face.

“Well, what is it that you--”

He had drawn your face close up into his, then closed any space that divided the two of you. Your lips parted with his into a meeting of his plush lips that were even softer than you had imagined. Even though you knew he couldn’t taste it, you flooded the taste of chocolate into his mouth, and your body shivered in the way that he ran his tongue over your bottom lip. He wasn’t intrusive, but rather curious, and thrilled. Any semblance of him that was any less than the skin that you felt on yours faded, and you poured yourself all back to him. His fingers held fast to the sides of your face while he kissed back every with every bit of him that he could. Even in the one moment when your eyes had fluttered open, he held his eyes closed, to focus only on you. Your own wondering hands laced into his fuzzy locks.

Each and every kiss that he painted across your lips was laced with indescribable want: something that he shouldn’t have even known, but you could feel it. He echoed the smile that you had pressed into his lips.

“I just want to be with you tonight. Just a bit longer. No more timers.” Minho whispered onto your mouth, barely breaking.

On the one hand, his request terrified you. A Mirror, one who you thought to be unfeeling, pre-programmed, an empty shell, wanted you. But still, you couldn’t control yourself from wanting him back, and everything about him that you knew and didn’t know. Wanting him, was the simplest thing you could have done.

“I-I want that too.”

His smile was thankful, and suddenly every little way that his eyes would crinkle or the corners of his mouth would upturn seemed more genuine.

Minho traced your hands to the back of your his neck where he guided them to the tip of his spine.

“Touch here.” He guided your fingertip over what felt like a bone. “Press down.”

You did so, and the patch of skin sunk down a bit like a button. You held his eyes which flickered wholly with that blue-white light you had taken notice of before.

“Say “Bypass LK2510.” “

He held your finger down still, and you repeated the phrase, watching as the light vanished all at once, even that thin ring around his irises.

“What did that do?”

Minho blinked a couple time like he was ridding sleep from his eyes, then beamed with a grin that only got wider and wider. “They shouldn’t know where I am for a while. You disabled my tracker.”

“I did what??? Can’t I get in trouble for that??”

“Not when I made you do it.”

In his delight, he pressed his lips back up against yours with a kind of light air that was ecstatic and hurried--it was contagious, and the feeling swept over you until you were just as giddy. You were nearly as giddy as a school child reveling in the mischief of knowing what they were doing was against the classroom rules.

Your chest swelled with nervous excitement, but it wasn’t nearly as addictive as any drug that you could imagine.

“Where do you want to go now?” You asked him with hands clinging to the sides of his coat.

“Anywhere.”

[nsfw version/ending coming soon on binniesthighs!]

272 notes · View notes

venusofsuburbia · 3 years

Note

also may i be so bold as to ask for makeup advice? im getting my makeup done on valentine's day and i have a lot of ideas as to what i should go for but i want your thoughts

valentine’s day is EASILY one of my favorite holidays so here are some concepts for your perusal:

the golden goddess: think elizabeth taylor in cleopatra. gold lip gloss, gold eyeshadow, and the kind of winged eyeliner that brooks no argument. you can substitute green or teal eyeshadow if the gold is a bit much, but if you can get your hands on some gold highlighter then go ahead and bathe in that shit (i used to contour with crushed pyrite for this exact purpose)

the sugarplum fairy: yes, like keira knightley in that movie! lilac and silver eyeshadow with sparkly mascara if you can find it! pretty mauve lipstick under diamond lip gloss! as much diamond highlighter as your heart desires! basically if it sparkles, put it! on! your face!

the 70s singer-songwriter: think sharon tate. simple smooth face with soft brows, baby blue eyeshadow, nude lipstick, and lots of mascara (you can add a little bit of brown eyeliner pencil as you please)

the 90s teen movie: think cher horowitz from clueless! barbie pink lipstick (like her lip pencil!), some soft eyeliner pencil, and soft romantic neutral eyeshadow with pearly highlights

the old hollywood vamp: think black and white silent film star. thick eyeliner pencil with heavy smoky eyeshadow and the darkest red lipstick you can find. take some desaturated photos looking utterly bored with the decadent pleasures this life has to offer.

the marilyn monroe: think this milton greene photo that i’m obsessed with. bright complexion, winged eyeliner, this red lipstick, and fuck it, do the beauty mark!

the trophy girlfriend on a yacht in monaco: think everything amal clooney wears on vacation. mascara and a bit of liner for the biggest eyes possible, orange lipstick (trust me, i promise) and just a touch of warm blush for sunkissed skin. then go watch the formula 1 documentary series on netflix and tell me which driver you think is cutest (personally i think it’s carlos sainz)

the eat heart of man like egg for breakfast: think if eva green was in atomic blonde. sharp brows, jewel toned eyeshadow, berry lipstick, and the most aggressive winged eyeliner you ever did see. get graphic, get dramatic, get experimental! our goals here are FEAR, AWE, and ROCK AND ROLL

#makeup #style #valentine's day #makeup inspiration #lucacangettathisass #questions queries quandaries #i spent DAYS on this and i am very proud of it i hope you like it #all products recommended here are ones i would use myself #m&p

156 notes · View notes

dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

Text

Mardi Gras/Valentine’s Day (2/14/2021)

Long summary:

Alastor takes Sir Pentious @usedhearts to a Mardi Gras drag show/gay masquerade on Valentine’s Day and somehow neither one of them realizes that this is a date. FEATURING: each of them wondering a hundred times “am I being too romantic?” or “is HE being romantic??”! Disturbing the peace! Extremely over-the-top costumes! Questionable decisions made with New Orleanian cuisine! Fake (???) flirting in French! Spontaneously roleplaying as Greek gods! Puking in a toilet!

Short summary:

I know what you want to know. You know what you want to know.

*presses my lips real close to the microphone to whisper*

Yes. They make out.

Alastor

It’s ball time! Or it will be soon, anyway. Just in time for everyone to finish getting in costume.

Alastor’s, at least, is simple to put on. He’s already all but dressed—everything but the hat, hood, and mask—when he arrives to help Sir Pentious finish getting ready.

Sir Pentious

Telly's room is a downright mess-- things thrown all over the place, dresses of varying styles laid where ever they fell. And Telly himself is slithering around like a serpent possessed. He's got the gown on, and most of the accessories, and Hattie's turned himself into a crown, though said crown is currently laying on the bed.

"Alastor!" He cried when he spotted the Radio Demon. "Perfect timing, I need help with the pearls!"

Alastor

Hold on, Sir Pentious is in a gown, Alastor’s brain short circuits and his stomach does a somersault. With Sir Pentious’s entire neck and shoulders visible and rippling waves of fabric curling around his— “Sorry? Come again?”

Sir Pentious

"The pearls, Alastor! I need to get them on before I can put on Hattie!" He put said pearl strings into Alastor's hands and turned around, lowering himself to make it easier for Alastor to put on him.

Alastor

“Oh—right, right!” He tried to untangle the pearl strings. “This is that pearl hood bit, right?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes! Once I have that on, I can put on Hattie-- look how handsomely he's transformed, isn't he superb?-- and then Hattie will hold them in place and make sure they don't shift around! After that, I need help with the lashes-- my hands aren't steady enough for it." No mention of the _why_ there, even though normally his hands are steady as a surgeon's.

Alastor

Alastor muttered, “Ooh, I’ve never done lashes.” He glanced over at Sir Pentious’s hat/crown and gave it an approving nod, very regal. He fanned out the net of pearls over his fingers and gently draped them atop Sir Pentious’s head and down his hood. “I might have a shade that can handle that instead, some of them have worn makeup. I wouldn’t want to poke you in the eyes.” He doubted his hands would be any steadier if he was sitting with his face inches from Telly’s, staring deep into his eyes, trying to glue a thin strip of hairs onto the rim of his eyelid.

Sir Pentious

"That's fine, I'd much rather not get poked in the eye." He laughed but the sound was unusually nervous.

Once the pearls were settled, he straightened and slithered to get Hattie, placing him ever so delicately on top of his head-- juuuust right.

"There! That's done." He moved to the vanity in the corner-- a new addition, Alastor could note if he cared to-- and sat.

"Alright, lashes and eye make up." Oh look at that his hands were shaking just reaching for it.

Alastor

Alastor didn’t recognize the vanity; but his trips into Telly’s room in the past had been brief and the room itself had always only been the *second* most interesting thing capturing his attention, so maybe he’d just glanced over it.

Meanwhile, the *most* interesting thing in the room had noticeably shaking hands, and that, in Alastor’s opinion, would not do. He looked for something nearby he could sit on and tugged it up to the vanity next to Sir Pentious. “Don’t wear eye makeup very often?”

Sir Pentious

"Not at all, no. I, uh..." He swallowed thickly, glancing over at Alastor. He took a breath, trying to keep himself calm.

"My death, I told you I was blinded-- Now anything gets in or near my eyes and well...." He holds up his shaking hand.

Alastor

*Ah.* Alastor took Sir Pentious’s shaking hand. “Then why wear it? You’re going to have a mask *and* a spectacular dress on, nobody’s going to be scrutinizing your makeup.”

Sir Pentious

His grip on Alastor is vice tight when his hand is taken, and he takes another breath.

"It completes the outfit...Ties it all together. I _want_ to wear it-- maybe it'll help me stop being so afraid...."

Alastor

Hmm. Alastor ran his thumb over Telly's knuckles as he thought; then leaned over to the wall, tapped his shadow on the shoulder, and murmured, "Go see who's good with eye makeup, would you?" His shadow slid away as Alastor straightened back up.

"I've got an idea. I'll have one one of my people handle the makeup and *I'll* keep you distracted, how does that sound? Whatever you want to hear! Music, jokes, interesting stories, you name it, I'll play it. Just tell me what you'd like most!"

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded, his thumb stroking in return. "That sounds like a good idea-- probably best to play something that won't make me move suddenly? So, music would be best, I think. I love your jokes, but I don't think laughing would be good with things close to my eyes."

Alastor

“All right, nothing funny! Tall order, but I’ll see what I can do.”

His shadow came back with another; the second shade had five large eyes. Alastor should hope it would be good with eye makeup. He moved his seat a bit to give the shade room to move in front of them and sit atop the vanity, where it could look down at Sir Pentious’s face. “What kind of music are you in the mood for—musical, classical, swing, happy, melancholy, romantic...?”

Sir Pentious

"Something happy, and from a musical maybe? Perhaps you could do one of the songs from your musical?" Hamilton was now going to be 'your musical' to Telly forever. "I'd like to hear more from it, the one song you played the other day was very catchy."

He turned his face toward the shade and closed his eyes-- he hoped that was the right posture for eye make up.

Alastor

A song from Hamilton—and happy—but not *funny*—and, of course, one he knew the lyrics to—that narrowed down the options quite a bit, pretty much back to the one he’d already performed for Telly. “You know, the one I sang for you last time, I only did about half the song. Let me do the whole thing this time—pardon me for attempting to sing the other characters’ parts, but I’ll do the best I can!” He launched into “What’d I Miss,” from the top this time, the backing instruments playing from nowhere and unseen shades providing the backing vocals. He shifted his singing tone and style slightly for each of the different characters in the song, but it was very clear just from listening which one of them was *his* character. He resisted the urge to dance, even just on his seat, not wanting to give Telly a performance he might feel the need to watch; but, on the other hand, he couldn’t quite fight the urge to tap his fingers atop the vanity as though he was playing the piano part.

Meanwhile, the shade carefully applied Telly’s eyeshadow, then held one lash up to one eyelid to measure the length, trimmed them both, ran glue along them, and very carefully applied them. A professional at work. It was just finishing when Alastor finished the song, and he blinked at it in surprise. “Oh, that fast?”

It shrugged, yeah. Lashes took a couple of minutes tops and it wasn’t exactly going to be doing fancy blended looks that were going to be hidden by a mask’s eyeholes.

Sir Pentious

He smiled as Alastor launched into the song, the tip of his tail swinging like a metronome to the beat. He didn't even feel the shade's fingers-- a huge plus to curbing his anxiety-- and soon enough the song was ending and he opened his eyes. He blinked a couple times, getting used to the feeling of the feathery lashes.

Telly turned to smile at Alastor, giving his hand a squeeze. "Thank you. How does it look?"

Alastor

Alastor turned to look at Telly, and made direct eye contact. It was like the eyelashes were pulling him in. “Oh, that—really frames your eyes nicely.” AHEM. “And they’re both straight.” He quickly looked away. “I’d better get mine done too. Don’t want my natural skin standing out under the mask.”

The shade gave him an expectant look, and he waved it off impatiently. “Get out of here, I can do my own.” He waited until it had slid off the vanity and then leaned toward the mirror, taking a black eyeshadow palette he’d gotten from Angel out from god-knows-where.

Sir Pentious

Telly scooted over to give Alastor more room to use the mirror. And then turned to look at himself and gave a little gasp.

"Oh, these do look nice." He leaned in and blinked his eyes, watching the lashes. His eyes were drawn to watch Alastor instead, focused rather intently on it. He wanted to see how he did it.

Alastor

He did it haphazardly. He took off a glove to apply it with a finger, and was applying it more like stage makeup—a large, bold, solid covering, both atop his upper lid and beneath his lower. “I’m not really trying to look pretty,” he explained. “I just want to black out anything that’s going to be visible from the eye hole. My complexion does *not* flatter my costume.”

Sir Pentious

Telly nodded. "I see. You just use your finger? Isn't that what they have those little brushes for?" He tilted his head.

Alastor

“I find just using a finger makes it easier to control when I’m trying to get on a thick layer! I use one of those,” he made a pinchy gesture with his thumb and forefinger, “you know, little sponge-tip things when I need more control—but I’m not too worried about the details, here!” Obviously. He looked like a goth who looked like a raccoon.

Sir Pentious

"I see. And yes, I know what you mean! The little sticks that come with the eyeshadows." He nodded eagerly-- and then he remembered about the fan.

"Oh!" He got up and slithered to the bed, picking up said item from where it lay and opened it with a flick of his wrist. "I finished the fan! Fine construction, if I do say so myself."

It was a gaudy thing, but meshed with the style of the costume to look like a large shell. He fanned himself with it as he slithered back over to the vanity. "It has a few little extra tidbits that most other fans don't! Just in case." He winked.

Alastor

“Oh, does it!” Alastor grinned broadly. “You weaponized a fan! Of course you did. How does it work?” He leaned closer to inspect it.

Sir Pentious

"When it's shut," He said, snapping it shut. "It can be used as a ray gun."

He tilted it to show the very subtle and hidden barrel in the end, and pulled on another part to make a handle, the trigger popping out when he did. He held it out, aiming at a dress on the floor-- but didn't shoot. He didn't want to ruin his new dress that he just stole!

"Just a standard heat ray, but it's condensed and powerful enough to blast a hole in someone." He shut the handle and trigger back up and flicked it back open to fan himself again, a devilish grin on his face.

Alastor

He was grinning so wide the corners of his mouth threatened to disappear beneath his hair. “*Brilliant.*” He laughed, “Is it wrong of me to hope something *does* go wrong so I have a chance to see this beauty in action?”

Sir Pentious

"No, not wrong at all! I tested it out on some firing dummies and it was spectacular. If something doesn't happen, well, after the ball we could always go make some trouble!" He laughed again, winking at Alastor. He shut the fan again and slipped it into his belt-- the leviathan one, now around his waist, blending well with the dress.

"Now, let's see....Dress, pearls, Hattie, belt, fan, the mask is on the bed....Am I missing anything?"

Alastor

“Well...” Alastor looked Telly up and down. ... This station is experiencing technical difficulties, please hold while we attempt to get back on air— “I think so! I don’t know what else you could add.”

Sir Pentious

Telly continued to scrutinize himself in the mirror-- He knew he was forgetting _something_. He turned to the side and that's when it struck him. "OH! My scales! We forgot about painting them."

He slithered over to grab the rather large containers of nail polish style paint he'd 'found' (hehe, _crime_). "A copper-y color to match the verdigris, and then a shimmery green for some of my black scales to just add a bit of flair!'

Alastor

“Oho! I see why we needed to prepare so early!” He picked up one of the copper bottles and shook it. “Goodness, they do make them sparkle these days, don’t they! I suppose with these little brushes we’d better split up the job?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, that would be best-- I think if you take painting the scattered black scales, I could handle the sides where the yellow is? I don't want to move too much while you're painting though so we should find a good way to get settled where we both can reach the right parts." He slithered a bit to turn in half, to be able to reach the visible part of his tail. He took the copper from Alastor and handed him the green instead.

Alastor

He took the green, hesitated, then said, “Which ones do you want me to paint, exactly? I uh, I’m afraid I’m not blessed with an artistic eye.” He laughed apologetically. “I can color within the lines if you give me crayons and a coloring book, but I’m not what you’d call gifted at improvisation.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh! Well, in that case, maybe you should take the sides actually. All you'd have to do is make sure to only paint the yellow." Once again, swapping paint. "I'll handle the individuals."

He shook the bottle and opened it, firmly closing his mouth to make sure he didn't blelele right into that Smell. Telly started to very carefully paint a few of the black scales on his tail, humming Randy Dandy-oh under his breath.

Alastor

"Thanks." Alastor took the bottle, then plopped down on the floor so he could lean on one elbow and reach the sides of Telly's stripes where they were visible just above the ground. "So sorry for getting picky with how I help you! I don't mean to inconvenience you, but I doubt you'd have liked the results if I hadn't! Ask me to get creative and I tend to slap on a mess, *then* look at it and go 'Oh, that's terrible, isn't it.' Don't know how artists do it..."

His rambling trailed off as he got into his work—and as he realized that silence meant he could listen to Sir Pentious hum.

Sir Pentious

Telly was content to let Alastor talk, and then content to hum into the silence that grew between them. It was comfortable-- and how often did that happen? A comfortable silence, with just his humming to fill it. He focused on the painting, doing groupings of three scales every so often. It was soothing, actually, painting his scales like this-- helped him forget the anxiety he'd felt earlier. Plus the brush against his scales felt very nice.

Alastor

It took a few square inches of painting for Alastor to figure out the exact amount of polish and pressure to get an even covering on each scale, but by the time he got up to the point where Telly’s tail bent and the belly lifted off the floor, he’d gotten down to an efficient rhythm. He could even trace carefully around each of Telly’s brilliant eyes without slowing down.

He set the polish bottle down on thin air so he could free a hand to lift Telly’s skirt aside, out of danger of landing on the wet polish. He wouldn’t go *too* far up beneath his skirt, no point painting in places nobody would see—but he wasn’t going to leave anything that might be visible unpainted.

This was, he mused, probably the most quiet he’d had in months—Telly’s hypnotic humming was more than enough to keep Alastor content. A rarity. Forget sea serpent, maybe Telly should have dressed as a siren.

At some point, Alastor had gotten the thought *I don’t want to accidentally paint my gloves* and removed his remaining glove without conscious awareness before continuing to paint—a realization he didn’t have until he’d finished painting up one outer stripe and started down the other side. But once he did notice, all he could think about was the brush of chiffon so light it made the back of his hand tingle and cool scales under his hand near what on human anatomy would be the back of a thigh.

He accidentally smudged a bit of polish off a yellow scale and onto a black one. He carefully wiped it off with a thumb, tried to hold the brush steadier, and continued.

Sir Pentious

Telly's concentration didn't waver, even when he felt the front of his dress lift. His focus shifted a tiny bit when he felt Alastor make a mistake, but quickly returned to his task at hand. The motions were so methodical, they soon became automatic-- paint a trio of scales, move a few over, paint another three.

His humming shifted from Randy Dandy-Oh, to My Jolly Sailor Bold, and then shifted again from humming to singing, his voice soft so that he could hit the notes. It was always easier to do when he wasn't trying to belt.

"_My heart is pierced by cupid, I disdain all glittering gold. There's noting can console me, but my jolly sailor bold..._"

Alastor

*Pierced by Cupid* indeed, that bastard. Alastor recognized this one, he’d heard Telly singing it in the shower once. He started quietly humming along. His hum was a buzzing drone—hums and microphones don’t mix well—but it was certainly in tune, he had that going for him.

He found himself disappointed when he switched from the side stripe to the one in the middle—he was running out of scales to paint. Nothing left now but the middle stripe and the few yellow scales exposed on Telly’s upper chest. Alastor thought he could have happily stayed hours exactly where he was—kneeling in front of Sir Pentious like a knight swearing his fealty to a lord, lovingly tending to each and every individual scale by hand, leaning in to gently press a warm kiss to the cool snakeskin—

NO. No he did NOT do that—he got so close his bangs brushed over Telly’s scales, but he caught himself and jerked back, gasping with a burst of static, shocked out of his trance by the realization of what he’d nearly done.

“I—I’m so sorry.” His voice was so distorted it was nearly doubled. Damage control, hurry hurry hurry—“I think I almost—nearly got a brush in your eye, there. Not paying attention to what I’m doing, clearly.” Had Sir Pentious noticed anything else? A dozen eyes were on Alastor, how obvious had he been? He shook his head violently, as much for the effect as to actually clear his head. “Nearly drifted off on the spot, I think, you’re too soothing a singer—Here.” He held up the bottle with the lid hastily screwed back on. “I don’t think I should—I don’t want to risk getting you in an eye. Sorry.”

Sir Pentious

He felt that-- the brush of hair against his scales. They were far more sensitive to touch than most would give credit, and he nearly fumbled his own painting. So focused, he hadn't really been watching what Alastor had been doing with his body eyes, but he was fairly certain that he hadn't been near one of the eyes-- but he sat up some and took the bottle back.

"Ah, alright then. Do you want to switch? There's only a few more spots to do on the back end, I could point out where for you?" His eyes blinked, big and owlish, made even larger by the lashes glued to them. "No eyes on that part." He laughed, a bit awkwardly. What was once a companionable quiet was suddenly charged with electricity, and Telly very much wished he'd been paying more attention when Alastor had leaned in like that.

"I think I can finish the yellow bits myself-- certainly don't want to be poked in an eye." Another slightly strained chuckle.

Alastor

Alastor let out just as strained a chuckle in return. “No, certainly don’t want that. You’re right, I think I...” He held out a hand for the green bottle, realized it would be almost impossible to take it while avoiding Telly’s fingers, and held out his hand palm up so he could set it down on Alastor’s hand instead. “Thank you.”

It would be quick and far less detailed than coating every individual spot of yellow in a new color. He didn’t even need to apply a solid coat, just enough to add a little shimmer. He could copy Sir Pentious’s pattern to determine where to apply the remaining green paint and slap it out in no time—and he wouldn’t have to face the temptation to repeat his near mistake.

Sir Pentious

Telly dropped the bottle into his hand, and then leaned over his tail, looking at what he'd already done. "There, there, there, and there, and there," He said, pointing out a few spots. "If you want to improvise a bit, that's fine too."

He smiled, a bit more relaxed, even if the tension between them was still present-- it helped to have something else to focus on. He straightened up and then bent to start applying paint where Alastor had left off, noticing straight away that he hadn't even been close to one of his body eyes. That was going to wriggle in the back of his mind for a while now. He pushed it away and focused on painting.

It didn't take long for him to finish up-- they'd almost been done when Alastor had stopped. He finished the last bit on his chest and turned to show Alastor. "Did I miss anything?" He lifted his chin to make sure Alastor could see everything properly.

Alastor

“I think I’ll trust your judgment!” Even better than trying to guess based on what Sir Pentious had done so far. He quietly sighed in relief and got to work finishing up the last little bits.

Alastor looked up at the question, then stood to get a better look at Telly’s chest past the ruffles. “Looks fine to m—Oh! Your hood.” He considered that conundrum for a moment. “Would the polish even stay on it with the way it, you know...” he held up his hands to separate and press together his fingers several times, “flaps like it does?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I thought about that. I'm going to try and keep it down as much as I can, and no I don't think the polish would stick well-- or it might stick it _together_ and that would be painful. I think this year it will have to stay as is." He touched the hood, petting it a bit and drawing it over his shoulder like hair briefly before letting it fall back.

"Perhaps next year we'll have enough time to find something to cover it! For today, the pearls will have to do." He pulled his fan back out and gently wafted himself-- more to make sure the paint dried than anything.

"Alright, just masks and then we're ready, correct?"

Alastor

“I believe so, yes!” He reached into a portal to pull out a shawl, mask, hat, and a few pearl strings, and went back to the vanity to put them on. First the shawl, which he tucked around his head and down into the collar of his coat; then his mask, an impishly smiling face that he’d painted bronze; then the hat, which he held in place for a moment until he’d grown his antlers up and through a pair of concealed holes; and at last the pearls, which he draped over the antlers like Mardi Gras beads over a leafless tree.

Sir Pentious

Telly got his own mask from where it sat on the bed, slithering to join Alastor by the vanity. He stopped just before putting it on to watch the antlers grow, his eyes wide.

"Oh, that's magnificent," He murmured-- before blinking and turning toward the mirror to put on his own mask. It was heavy, but luckily the ribbons allowed Hattie to take much of the weight so it wouldn't press too tightly. He turned, smiling behind it as he offered Alastor his hand. "Shall we?"

Alastor

He turned to smile at Telly—or, well, his mask was doing the smiling at this point. He could frown his heart out and nobody would know. He doubted he would. “Let’s!” He took Telly’s hand. “Onward to the beautiful town of... Swamp Ass.”

Sir Pentious

"Onward!" A beat. "Are we going through Hentai's dimension?"

Alastor

“Afraid so! Hang on to your pearls, I’d hate to see them float off somewhere.”

Sir Pentious

"I don't know that I have enough hands to hold them all down!" But he does put a hand on the ones that could easily float off. "Ready as I'll ever be!"

Alastor

“Then off we go!”

And off they went.

They emerged on the other end on a cobbled sidewalk next to a canal. In either direction several old stone bridges arched grandly over the dirty water, draped in flowery festoons in Mardi Gras colors. Old, dignified-looking stone and brick storefronts displayed local artisanal crafts and fine bakery goods—like anywhere else in Hell, the windows were protected by iron bars, but here they were fancy decorative iron bars. All along both sides of the canal and over the bridge, Carnival partiers milled about, most of them in beautiful masks of some sort, a few of them dressed better even than Alastor and Telly. It was as dignified and elegant a scene as Alastor had promised.

Several hooting partiers sped by in a motorboat, bikini tops flapping around their necks instead of where they belonged, spraying smelly water on the other side of the canal. Ah, well.

“Perhaps we should move inland.” Alastor gestured toward a narrow street that opened a couple blocks away into a large town square.

Sir Pentious

Telly took it all in, his mouth agape underneath his mask. There were so many lights and colors and-- that's when it clicked in his mind.

"OH IT'S CARNIVAL!" He nearly shouted, before his mouth snapped shut and he laughed. At the passing boat, he nodded to Alastor. "Yes, let's move away from that-- wouldn't want to ruin all our hard work!"

He continued to snicker, even as they moved, the cobbles feeling nice underneath his slithering tail. "Oh, I can't believe I didn't realize what Mardi Gras was until just now, how much of a dunderhead am I?" He laughed more, shoulders shaking slightly.

Alastor

Alastor summoned up his cane—temporarily painted to match his outfit, and he *had* attached the fake seashell to it after all—and strolled along toward the square. “Wait—you didn’t know Mardi Gras is the end of Carnival?” He laughed. “What in the world *did* you think it was?”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed harder. "I don't know! I didn't think to connect the two! I just thought it was some American holiday that came about after my death!"

Oh, the cane looked very nice. That's a nice cane. He should say that. "Your cane looks very nice!"

Alastor

“Hah! Oh no, Mardi Gras is *old!* Why, out in Louisiana there are towns that still celebrate it the way their ancestors did in France hundreds of years ago. But America is where Mardi Gras got *big!* New Orleans, specifically!” Listen to that home town pride.

“Why, *thank* you,” Mic said. “And that hat of yours is looking mighty cute—“ Alastor shoved his palm over the microphone with an amplified thud.

Sir Pentious

Hattie's eye-- much smaller now and the centerpiece of the crown, briefly went Silly Mode at the comment from mic before returning to its normal slit pupil. Telly chuckled and wrapped his arm around Alastor's, pulling him closer in the process.

"I see! I only ever briefly visited France-- But I had been in Venice and Rome for Carnival during different trips! It was quite something to see, all the costumes and colors!"

Alastor

“Isn’t it glorious!” He gestured at the costumes of the passersby—and almost whacked somebody in the head. People were walking a lot closer to him than usual. It took him a moment to realize it was because they didn’t recognize him as the Radio Demon. “New Orleans *really* takes the credit for *modern* Mardi Gras, but apparently Venice really upped its game in the last few years. At least, that’s what the Venetians down here say. For all I know, maybe they only started showing us up with the costumes in Hell and wanted to act like they’re doing it up above too. I certainly never heard anything remarkable about Venice’s Mardi Gras in life.” According to Alastor only New Orleans is allowed to be *really good* at Mardi Gras.

Sir Pentious

"From what I remember, Venice's Carnival was superb! My favorite part was throwing the balls of colored chalk! You ended up a mess at the end of the day, but it was such fun!" He laughed and gently bumped his hip into Alastor's, squeezing his arm with both of his own.

"That and exchanging flowers from carriages!"

Alastor

“Throwing *what?* You were just—what, pelting each other with extremely soft rocks?” He laughed. “Oh, that *must* have been before the fancy costumes, I can’t imagine mixing chalk messes and expensive dresses!”

Sir Pentious

"The costumes were fairly generic, but no not rocks! Little cloth sacks filled with powdered chalk! It was soft enough it wouldn't hurt most of the time, but would get everywhere!" He laughed, and then looked around.

"Are we close?"

Alastor

“Yes indeed!” They’d just come up on the square, which had several large, grand old buildings—including what looked like a cathedral, except that where one would typically expect a cross on top, it was capped with a stone hand pointing a middle finger toward Heaven. The largest amount of costumed revelers—and the ones with the campiest outfits in sight—were clustered around the doors to another large building. “There’s our destination.” With a flourish, Alastor summoned up two tickets and offered one to Telly.

Sir Pentious

Telly didn't take the offered ticket, instead whipping out his fan to snap it open and daintily fan himself. "A Lady doesn't hold tickets, my dear, that is for her chaperone to do." He fluttered his lashes behind the mask and laughed.

Alastor

“Oh!” Alastor laughed. So Sir Pentious was getting in character. “I beg your pardon, madam, you’re quite right! It would be my honor to hold on to your ticket on your behalf.”

Sir Pentious

"Good! Now, let's get inside, I am simply parched!" Was he a bit too good at the 'snooty upper class woman' bit? Perhaps he was, but considering his family, it wasn't much of a surprise.

Alastor

“As soon as we can,” Alastor said, half bowing. He certainly wasn’t surprised by the successful ‘snooty upper class woman’ bit; after all, when Sir Pentious wanted to, he pulled off the ‘snooty upper class man’ bit with aplomb.

They joined the crowd waiting outside their venue; and, within a few minutes, were inside.

Inside looked like a mix between a banquet hall and an upscale drag club with a runway set up down the middle of the room. Dinner and a show. For the moment, though, people were mostly milling about between tables while a live band played.

Sir Pentious

Telly's eyes widened when they entered the ball; there was just so much to look at! The other costumes, the decorations, the stage. Everything was so beautiful, he could hardly contain his awe. His arm stayed locked around Alastor's though, his grip turning a bit vice-like. He hand't been to a party like this in decades, and it felt like his first time all over again.

"Where to first?" He asked, with as much calm as he could muster. Which wasn't much. Surely Alastor could feel the way his hand was trembling where it gripped him.

Alastor

Alastor *wished* he could see Telly’s face. His wide eyes darting around the room were enchanting enough, and that tight grip on Alastor’s arm said the full expression must be even better.

“The choice is yours.” Alastor attended something or other for Mardi Gras almost every year, this moment was for Telly.

Sir Pentious

"Oh, I don't know where to start," He muttered, as his eyes continued to scan over the room. He would've been frozen by indecision if someone didn't clear their throat loudly behind him-- that snapped him out of it long enough to pull Alastor over to the side of the room with him.

"I forgot how, ah, many people are at functions like this." He was suddenly feeling very parched-- no it wasn't from nervousness, of course not. "Shall we get a drink to start? I'm very thirsty."

Alastor

Nervous around crowds? Alastor settled his hand over Telly’s and squeezed. “Sure! A fine way to kick off the festivities.” He looked around for the nearest table with refreshments and led Telly that way.

Sir Pentious

Telly followed along, eyes still darting every which way, now with paranoia instead of delight. Once they reached the table however, he closed his eyes and took a breath-- slow in, slow out-- and pushed aside the feeling. He was here to have a good time. He had a mask on. No one could even tell who he was, there was no reason to be nervous.

"Do they have wine? Or....what do they have at parties now? Punch? Is that what it's called?"

Alastor

“With what I paid for these tickets, they’d *better* have wine.” He paused. “Granted, it wasn’t my money, but.” Crime!! He glanced at one of the banquet tables. “They’ve got wine glasses, we’ll at least have wine with dinner.”

The refreshment table, however, seemed to primarily have champagne. It also had elaborate hors d’oeuvres on colorful plastic toothpicks. He picked up one with five different ingredients squeezed onto a cracker the size of a silver dollar and popped it in his mouth. Yum.

Sir Pentious

Oh thank fuck, alcohol. He took a glass and lifted his mask just enough to get a sip. The bubbles tingled on the way down, and he took another sip, the alcohol calming him a bit as it started to seep into his system. And then he's taking an hors d'oeuvres and popping that into his mouth too-- best to eat something before he drinks too much. It would be a bad look to get smashed straight off the bat, right?

"Dinner? Oh, I didn't know it'd be one of those types of balls." Oh, he'd have to remember table etiquette, oh no.

Alastor

“I think the plan is dinner and a fashion show by the krewe putting this ball on, and then the actual dancing part of things is going to be in another room.” He grabbed a champagne glass and took a sip. He still has his mask on, how did he did that. “Or maybe the tables are actually metal under those tablecloths and a giant magnet on the ceiling will pull them out of the way! I don’t know, I didn’t organize the event.”

Sir Pentious

Telly noticed that at last, and blinked. "How did you do that?" He asked as he very delicately took another sip and ate another snack. Hattie was doing good keeping the mask up enough to expose his mouth, allowing such things to happen, but Alastor's mask hadn't moved an inch.

"I hope dinner is soon, I'd like more than just these little hors d'oeuvres."

Alastor

“Do what?” Listen to him. So innocent. Definitely no idea what he’s talking about.

“Dinner should be starting on the hour! So, not too long now.”

Sir Pentious

Telly lowered the mask to be able to level him with a withering stare through it. "You know exactly what I mean, Alastor."

And up it goes again for another sip of champagne. "Ah, good. Shall we find seats?"

Alastor

"I'm afraid I don't!" So he says, literally as he takes another sip from his glass. Studio laughter.

"Yes, let's." He grabs a handful of hors d'oeurves to go and, since his hands are now full, offers his elbow to Sir Pentious. "Lead the way!" A few of the tables have cards set up showing they're reserved—mostly consisting of death threats to people who dares steal the reserved seats—but most are still empty.

Sir Pentious

Telly looked around, spying a rather good table that was still free. He took Alastor's arm and slithered toward it-- only for another group to descend on it. His eye twitched under his mask and he snapped his fan shut, hand twitching to turn out the gun handle.

"This one looks good," He said, smacking the reserved card off the nearest table and sitting on his coils, all the time glaring at the group that took the _preferred_ table.

Alastor

Alastor dumped his snacks on the table so he could pick up the reserved card and see what kind of threats were being leveled here. “Exciting news—we’re going to get our spines snapped!” He gave Sir Pentious a wry look. “I feel like trying to break your back would be like trying to break a rope.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, if one gets a proper grip one can break a snake's spine rather easily-- but if anyone tries to grip _me_, I'm sure we're more than equipped to deal with them." His eyes were still on the other group, narrowed to slits behind his mask, and he flicked the handle out of his fan-- and then back in. No, no, not yet. He didn't want to ruin the party so soon.

But he did make note of the costumes of the group, filing that information away for later. "If the spine snappers arrive, we can make fine work of them together."

Alastor

“Or, *or.*” Alastor leaned over and flicked the card to the ground beside the coveted next table over. “I bet the original party at this table won’t remember the *exact* table they reserved, don’t you think?”

Sir Pentious

Oh, if only Alastor could see the smile on his face right now. He surreptiously moved his tail to press on the card and then-- flick!! -- off it sailed, closer to the preferred table. And Telly flicked open the fan again, wafting himself once more and looking far too pleased with himself.

"Very true, my dear, very true. That should take care of it, don't you think?" He turned to bat his lashes at Alastor.

Alastor

*My dear.* Alastor’s bones turned to jelly and his guts filled with butterflies. He winked. “Oh, I *certainly* think so!” How long has Telly been calling him “my dear”? He’d only just caught it. It sounded so natural, it might have slipped past him earlier.

This called for more alcohol. He drained the rest of his champagne.

Sir Pentious

Another sip and Telly's was gone as well. He hummed, looking at the empty glass, and then over at Alastor. "Care to get us both refills, Al--" He caught himself at the last moment and gave a short laugh. "Darling?"

Alastor

“Darling” doesn’t liquefy his guts quite the way that “my dear” does, but it sure isn’t helping. “Of course!” He bolted up so fast his chair squeaked across the floor. Whoops.

Right, the terms of endearment were just part of the act—masquerade and all that. Didn’t mean anything. Nothing at all. Don’t read too much into it. Don’t get weird over it.

He snatched up their glasses. “I’ll be right back”—don’t say his name, they’re being incognito, grab a term of endearment—“my l—“ NO DON’T SAY THAT ONE “—liege.” *THAT WAS TERRIBLE.* He hustled away. Stupid stupid stupid stupid—

Sir Pentious

Oh, Alastor seemed out of sorts, fumbling over his words like that-- Telly wondered idly why that was, but giggling all the same at being called 'my liege'.

He hummed softly as he waited for Alastor to return, taking one of the snacks left behind and popping it into his mouth. Oh! Looked like someone was approaching the other table and picking up that reserved card. Telly hoped Alastor would get back before spines started snapping.

Alastor

Alastor was not in a rush to get back. He was going to lurk right here at the refreshment table until his breathing had steadied again and his hands weren’t shaking. Okay, haha, wow, all right. That was a totally disproportionate emotional reaction to hearing his ex’s pet name for him—you know, the same pet name that 95% of all English-speaking couples use. Not a big deal, calm down.

He crushed an empty glass with one hand. It helped a little.

He tuned out the slowly mounting sound of a disagreement until it escalated to someone bellowing, “—and your lipstick’s ugly, *bitch!*” He turned around—oh, *oh*, that was their table, wasn’t it! He snatched up two fresh glasses and hurried over, weaving through the gathering crowd so he could reconnect with Telly before the onlookers got too packed for him to squeeze through.

He offered a glass to Telly around the time the first tooth was lost, and whispered, “I missed the start of the argument, how’d it go?”

Sir Pentious

Telly had been so focused on the fight brewing, he barely noticed when Alastor returned, until he heard his voice. He leaned his body closer, fan up to cover his mouth as he lifted his mask to take a sip of his fresh glass of champagne, and then used it to whisper behind, as a lady was wont to do.

"The spine snappers came up and found the card, started accusing the others, and the others denied seeing the card, of course. Then they started insulting the spine snappers' costumes, and well--" He gestured to the brawl that was now in full swing. He moved his tail to make sure it wouldn't get trod upon in the kerfuffle, and the tip instinctively wrapped around Alastor's legs.

"That was quite the good idea, pet, sending the card over there." He giggled.

Alastor

Now, “pet” really *shouldn’t* be making his knees feel weak. It seemed a bit demeaning. He’d rip out the entrails of anyone else who dared call him such a thing. And yet, here he was, knees decidedly weakened. Hmm.

He tipped slightly forward in a half-bow. “I thought you might approve, *milady*.” At least he’d gotten that part figured out while he was at the refreshment table.

Sir Pentious

The crowd was into it now, hooting and hollering as the fight picked up intensity. Oh, and look at that, security was already heading through the crowd. Telly smiled devilishly behind his mask and fan-- what fun this was already!

"Oh yes, my lord, what a glorious evening this is turning out to be already. I hope it continues to be just as entertaining." His eyes flicked over to Alastor, and he set down his glass to slide his arm around his waist. Telly tugged him closer, purring. "Though with the present company, I'm sure it will be spectacular no matter what may occur."

Was the alcohol already getting to him? Maybe. He really needed more food.

Alastor

He’d been promoted from pet to lord so quickly! This was going to be a challenging character to play.

Or maybe not so challenging—he slid his hands behind Telly’s back and tugged him a bit closer. “Any evening at your side is magnificent.” Although the brawl was a nice bonus. A couple of people in the crowd had recognized the combatants and joined in, and for the life of him Alastor couldn’t tell whose side they were fighting on.

Sir Pentious

Another purr rumbled through him-- Heaven above, he loved to be held, and right now, by Alastor especially. He felt his heart flutter at his words, and he began to gently stroke his thumb against Alastor's side. Telly fanned himself more, and then giggled as he fanned Alastor a little, tittering like he'd seen so many of his sisters do with suitors.

His attention was drawn back to the fight right as security got in the middle-- oh! And there went someone's face. The security team pulled some of the combatants apart and began to drag them toward the exits, throwing them out on their asses. Telly couldn't help but laugh behind his mask.

"Fun! Look at them all, getting tossed from a party! What cads!"

Alastor

Was this what they were doing now? This moment sure felt romantic, was that what it was? Were they spending this evening playing pretend at being a couple? He thought he could do that. He could definitely do that.

“How uncivilized. They’re not worthy of an event like this.” Tsk, tsk.

But the show was over now... and the next table over was empty. Alastor reluctantly slid out of Telly’s hold, but only so that he could move to the next table and pull out a chair in front of one of the undamaged sets of tableware. Your seat, madam.

Sir Pentious

"Certainly not!" Telly lifted his nose and laughed. He frowned a bit when Alastor let go-- but then saw what it was he was doing, slithering over after grabbing his glass. He sat down and nodded his head to Alastor.

"Thank you, darling," He purred.

Alastor

“You’re quite welcome, honey.” He took his own seat, then paused; his grimace wasn’t visible but one could see it in his eyes. “No, I don’t like ‘honey,’ that’s far too casual. We can class this up a bit! *Cher*? No, still too casual—*mon chéri*?” Alastor propped his chin in his hand while he thought. “*Mon serpent*? My sweet snake?” He glanced over Telly’s costume. “My pearl?”

Sir Pentious

There was a little shock at being called 'honey'-- that felt far more intimate to him than the terms he'd been using. But then Alastor launched into wondering about which terms to use and he relaxed again. Of course, it was all part of being incognito, yes, that made sense. No reason for his heart to leap and flutter with every more personal petname.

"Perhaps, _mon reine?_ Or Madame de la Mer? Oh! And you can be Monsieur de la Mer!" The grin behind his mask was huge-- a pity Alastor couldn't see it. "Oh! Oh! Or maybe _mon reine de la mer!_ and then you'd be _mon roi de la mer!_"

Alastor

“Oh, hah, of course! Here you are in drag at a ball, I believe that makes you a queen by default.” *Did* it? Alastor didn’t actually know. Did crossdressing as a woman *automatically* qualify someone as a drag queen, or did it require participating in all the other little cultural rituals too? He didn’t know, he could ask somebody else sometime. Maybe Angel knew, he did drag far more than Alastor.

He leaned closer to Telly, closing the distance between them. “Queen of the sea it is. How very, *very* fitting.” Alastor nearly rested his chin on Telly’s shoulder, face shielded between the fan and Telly’s hood, and murmured adoringly, “*Ma reine de la mer... et des enfers... et de l’univers...*”

Sir Pentious

He'd been about to ask what exactly a 'drag' ball was when Alastor leaned so very close and whispered those sweet nothings to him. His breathing picked up just a tad, a fraction, as he tried to keep hold of his emotions-- don't let them run away now, Pentious, it was part of the little act they were both putting on.... Or was it? Being shielded by both fan and hood, no one else could see Alastor, no one else could hear what he was saying over the dull roar of the crowd. Perhaps....could he...?

No, no pull yourself together Pentell! He was playing the role, that was it, stop reading into it. A breath, and then another, and finally he could think enough to respond.

"_Seulement si tu es à mes côtés, mon roi._" He cooed back, his mask blocking the flick of his tongue-- and eugh, the inside of the mask neither smelt nor tasted good.

Alastor

“*Pour toujours, ma reine. Je suis à toi pour l’éternité. Nous vivons—*”

A server set a plate with the first course in front of them, startling Alastor into sitting upright—just in time for the server to deliver Alastor’s plate too. He winked at Alastor before sashaying off to the next table. Oh, how embarrassing. What had he just been saying? Good God.

“Show must be about to start,” he said, a bit too cheerfully and a bit too loudly. He loosened his mask and tilted it out with his thumb so he could start eating. (Apparently the “eat through the mask” trick only worked with small snacks and sips.)

Sir Pentious

Oh, oh, Alastor was still talking and Telly's entire body had stilled to listen, so intently. His focus, so singular, that the entire ball faded away-- until that plate was set in front of him. He realized then that he had been leaning so very close to Alastor and straightened up. Swallowing thickly, he quickly thanked the waiter, lifting his mask to begin on the first course. His hands shook a little, the whispered words replaying in his mind-- something that would likely continue the rest of the night and the next day and the next and the next....

"Oh, this looks very good." He took a small portion, as he'd been taught so long ago, and delicately put it in his mouth. "Yes, very tasty."

His eyes were drawn to the stage, where the first people were starting to strut down the runway-- the first outfit was an over the top peacock that made him gasp momentarily, and then a whole _dragon_ was the next. Oh, these were superb! He took another sip of champagne-- until the waiter returned with wine, a nice crisp white for the first course. He thanked them once again and took a sip of the new drink, and oh, was it tasty.

"Look at that artistry, mon roi, those outfits are spectacular!"

Alastor

Oh thank goodness, Telly wasn’t weirded out by it. Just playing along! Just getting in character! Totally normal!

The only thing limiting the size of Alastor’s bites was the fact that he had to get his fork under his mask without making a mess of it. He couldn’t say anything stupid as long as his mouth was full, right?”

“They’ve really upped their game lately.” The peacock tail on the first costume was so wide the model wouldn’t be able to reach across it with both arms fully outstretched, and several people at the tables nearest the stage had to duck the dragon’s wings when he turned around. “I haven’t been to one of this krewe’s events in the better part of a decade—I’ve been missing out.” He gestured at the third one, “How do you think they got that working centaur costume—? Oh, no, I think she’s actually a centaur.” Easy mistake.

He conjured up a neon pink plastic straw to let him drink his wine. Classy.

Sir Pentious

Telly glanced over and then did a double take at the straw. "Can I....can I have one of those?" He'd actually wanted to ask for one earlier but had decided against it. It _was_ a high class event after all. But if Alastor was doing it, surely then he could to!

"Oh yes, that is clever, playing into what you are in Hell-- kind of like what I did!" He laughed and took another bite.

"Look at that one! She's literally growing flowers as she walks!"

Alastor

What a spectacle. Alastor watched it admiringly. “Do you think that’s magic or mechanics?” He glanced over. Alastor got magic, but Sir Pentious was the one who knew mechanics.

Sir Pentious

At the question, his eyes narrowed trying to piece together what it was. "Hmmm, I'm thinking magic! It's too subtle and quick for it to be something mechanical, at least from my estimation."

Alastor

“It’s very well done!” Alastor wondered if he could steal the trick. If Telly liked it so much, he’d probably love getting something from Alastor that replicated the trick...

Was Alastor considering giving Telly *flowers?* Get a grip. He turned his attention to his food. (Pasta salad. Fine choice. A much better starter than salad salad.)

Sir Pentious

"Yes, it is!" He finally actually looked at what he was eating-- oh, pasta! He knew that. But it was cold. Interesting! It definitely tasted good. Telly took another bite.

"Mm, I've never had cold pasta before-- well, not intentionally." He chuckled.

Alastor

“I’ve usually seen it as a side!” He was picking around at the salad now, inspecting the ingredients—ham, salami, olives... Ah, he recognized this. “This is a muffuletta pasta salad! Local speciality! Swamp Ass’s population is about half Louisianan, half Italian—and muffulettas come from the New Orleanian Italian population.” Listen to that Home Town Pride in his voice. “I had them on sandwiches when I was alive! Down here they tend to switch out the bread for pasta. That’s one of the things I love about this holiday, *everyone* wants to eat like they’re from New Orleans.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh! Excellent, I've still been meaning to try some good New Orleanian fair! Do you think all the courses will be from your neck of the woods?" He takes another few bites, making contented snake noises. He raised his glass again-- but it clinked against the underside of his mask and he made a frustrated noise.

He looked at Alastor's straw and then just reached over and-- yoink!-- plucked it out. He put it in his own wine and used it to sip. Much better. Alastor could make another one.

Alastor

Alastor laughed. “I’m so sorry, you asked for a straw earlier and I got distracted by the flowers, didn’t I?” He waited until Telly stopped sipping, stole back his own straw, and summoned up an elaborate curly straw to drop in Telly’s wine glass. “There!” Curly straws were infinitely more fun.

“Why didn’t you tell me you want to try New Orleanian food! If I’d known, I’d have been loading you down with more jambalaya and gumbo than you’d know what to do with!” Well, he definitely knows now. “I’d say we’ll either be getting New Orleanian, or some sort of Louisianan-Italian fusion cuisine. Speaking of, the Cajun chicken pasta in this town is to die for, I’ve got half a dozen different restaurants I could take you to just to eat that alone. If you’re ever willing to drop a hundred bucks a plate, there’s even a place around here that gets proper seafood in it, and *oh* is it worth it!”

Sir Pentious

"I thought I'd told you that before, hadn't I? That I haven't tried any?" He pondered that before shrugging. "Well, no matter! But yes, I would love to try more-- especially since it is your forte and all, you'd be the one to know the best of the best. Whether you're cooking it or from a restaurant!" He oogled the curly straw and smiled-- a little hint of it visible under his lifted mask-- and took another sip of his wine.

His plate was polished off quickly and the waiter came to take the first course and replace it with the second. "So, what's this one?" He asked, looking to Alastor.

Alastor

“... My memory must be slipping.” Gee, was it possible that Alastor had a hard time focusing whenever he was around Sir Pentious? Hmm! Far-fetched, but worth considering! “You probably did! I’ll, uh—keep it in mind this time.”

When the plates were switched out, his eyes were on the current performer on stage—a strip tease that, impressively, exposed a second costume that was somehow larger than the first. “What? Oh!” He looked down at the main course—and laughed. “Well, speaking of jambalaya! Doesn’t quite look like my recipe, but...” He poked around it a bit, examining the ingredients. “Well—they used orzo instead of rice! And that’s a lot more tomato than I’d put in. Definitely a fusion cuis—*did they put cheese on it?*” He scooped up a forkful to examine it. Definitely Parmesan. “They put *cheese* on *jambalaya*?” He looked at Telly in deep affront. “These people put cheese on jambalaya!” Who were these monsters?

Sir Pentious

Telly merely stared at him back, spoon halfway to his mouth. He finished the movement, letting the taste roll around his tongue. HM. Definitely odd, with that cheese.

"Yes, that is definitely cheese. Should there not be cheese?" His head tilted, and he took another sip of his wine. Oh, look at that, the glass was empty. He looked around and-- oh! the waiter was there already, refilling with that same tasty white.

"I think the texture of the cheese in it is a bit....odd, but the flavor seems fine to me?" Was that the wrong thing to say? He was about to find out!

Alastor

“There should most certainly *not* be cheese!” He tried it. He thought about it. He shrugged. “Well. All together, it tastes fine. But I wouldn’t call it *jambalaya.* It’s half as spicy as it should be.” He leaned over to nudge Telly’s elbow. “If you think it tastes fine, that’s what matters!”

Sir Pentious

Oh, good! He puffed a bit at the nudge and words. Yes, he did think it tasted good! Different, but that was also good! He continued to eat, and then noticed the runway again-- a sparkling butterfly demon flew above it, her wings glittering and dropping said glitter dust with every flap. The effect was stunning and he stared as she did a twirl in the air.

"Oh, that's gorgeous-- look at how the lights play off her wings!"

Alastor

Alastor quietly reached over to steal Sir Pentious’s fan and shielded their plates from the dust until she’d left the runway. “It probably works better in parades than at dinner,” he laughed. “Do you think the ‘fairy’ pun is intentional, or...?”

Sir Pentious

He hadn't even thought about the food-- a lot of others seem to be grumbling about it now, and he laughed. "Yes, likely works better that way. And perhaps! With that much glitter, anything could be possible."

Telly looked down at himself, and then over at Alastor, and giggled again. They were covered in the stuff. "Well, now everyone can shine as brightly as she!"

Alastor

Alastor played a line from a song, "*Let's all be fairies~*" and then cut it off. To his delight, someone at another table over sang the next line. Alastor waved. Another old fogey!

He attempted, unsuccessfully, to brush the dust off his sleeve. "If only we'd known, we could have saved some time painting your scales!" ... Which reminded him of what he'd nearly done while painting Sir Pentious. Wow this weird orzo jambalaya sure is fascinating all of a sudden.

Sir Pentious

"Hmm, maybe, but I still like the effect of the paint better!" He laughed and his tail moved up to wiggle at Alastor. Telly returned to eating as well, trying to not just shovel it into his mouth as he'd gotten used to. He had to act proper, remember all the etiquette that had been drilled into him since childhood. He finished his jambalaya and then looked at his wine. Oh. It had glitter in it. He took out the straw and held it up, looking for a waiter-- and oh, there they were, instantly replacing his glass with a fresh and clean one.

And he cleans the straw with a napkin and puts it back in the wine. Siiiiip. Ah, tasty. He wasn't drunk yet, but he definitely felt the alcohol affecting him, and it showed in the way the tip of his tail moved to just curl around Alastor's ankle under the table. That was his leg now.

Alastor

Alastor wasn’t quite drunk himself yet, either; but the reminder of how close he’d gotten to getting completely out of line—*and how glorious it had been*—was pushing him to drink a little faster than he should, too.

And also prompted him to scoot his foot a little closer to Telly when he felt that tail tip coiling around it. If he wanted it, it was his.

Sir Pentious

The third course came upon them, and Telly purred. He hadn't had a proper three course meal in forever, this was wonderful. And all the costumes, and the lights, and the wine, it all had him feeling giddy and light. Before he started the next course, he reached over and took Alastor's hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Thank you for taking me here, this has been the best night and we're not even to the middle of it. I truly, deeply appreciate this, mon roi. I am having the very best time, and it's because you're here with me that it's even more special." Oh, those were words that he'd just said, weren't they? He let go of Alastor's hand to pick up his wine and take another sip. Just try to play it off as something totally casual, yes, that was good.

Alastor

*Oh.* Alastor squeezed Sir Pentious’s hand. “Thank you for letting me take you, *ma reine*. I’ve gone to something or other for Mardi Gras nearly every year since I’ve died, but I can’t remember the last time it was this fun, and the night’s hardly begun! Why, we’d beaten some Mardi Gras I’ve had before we even got off the airship! The company is what makes all the difference. All that, and we’re still two days away from Mardi Gras itself! It’s only...”

Valentine’s Day. Right, he’d almost let himself forget that part again. He swallowed hard and withdrew his hand to his own cutlery and plate again. Some kind of bread pudding and a scoop of ice cream—oh, how nice, they’d drizzled the ice cream with Mardi Gras colored syrups. He took a couple bites of the bread pudding just to say he had, then said, “I’m not a fan of desserts, do you want mine?”

Sir Pentious

Telly started in on his-- oh, that was _delightful!_ He made pleased noises as he continued to eat, the sweetness washing away the embarrassment he'd felt. At Alastor's question he turned and nodded, mouth still full. He reached and pulled the plate toward himself-- and then took Alastor's hand again, just holding it as he ate with the other, his thumb rubbing over Alastor's knuckles.

Alastor

And once more, that hand belonged to Sir Pentious and Alastor was happy to let him have it. For a few minutes, he was content to sit there silently, watching the end of the show and enjoying the chill that went up his arm each time Telly’s thumb moved.

Sir Pentious

He finished his dessert quickly, and then started in on Alastor's-- Mm, just as good. His thumb continued to stroke while he ate, too intent on the dessert to even pay attention to the end of the show. But then everyone was clapping, and he put down his spoon in a hurry to start clapping too. He did want to show his support after all!

Once the clapping stopped, his hands resumed their positions, one holding Alastor's and the other with the spoon, and he finished his dessert. Taking another sip of his wine and polishing off that glass, he lowered his mask back down again.

"So, dancing is next, correct?"

Alastor

“Right!” Right. God. Dancing. He’d been so focused on the show and the dinner he’d completely forgotten that he’d signed himself up for dancing with Sir Pentious. Could he handle that without doing something stupid?

He stood abruptly, pulling his hand back. “The wine’s getting to me. I need air.” He looked around for a restroom, a hallway, something. “I’ll be right back. I won’t be long, just—holler into the nearest radio if you need something.”

Sir Pentious

Telly blinked and nodded. "Oh! Yes, alright, I'll-- I'll just be here." He pulled his wine glass closer, before catching the attention of a waiter. He quietly asked if they had a red, and was rewarded with a fresh glass. Telly popped the straw in and slid it under his mask, taking sips as he waited.

His hand held his fan, stroking along it and twitching every now and then, wanting to pull out the handle and use it to cause some chaos. But no. He wouldn't do that. This night was going well, and he wouldn't ruin it now.

And then he was approached by someone else and he looked up, starting up some polite small talk, mostly if only to wait out the time Alastor was away.

Alastor

Alastor did manage to find a hallway, and then a staircase, and then another hall, and within a couple minutes was up on a balcony. He took off his mask, leaned on the railing, and looked down at the partiers in the square below. All right. Time to take stock.

Things were going great. Things were going *too* great. Telly, thus far, had been very sweet. Telly had been *too* sweet. In his heart of hearts Alastor knew Telly was just playing along with the game that they’d started by (and Alastor had to reiterate this to himself) going to a *gay ball* in *masquerade* on *Valentine’s Day,* which was *entirely Alastor’s fault*—but so much of it didn’t feel like a game, and he wanted so badly to tell himself that it was more.

But it wasn’t more. Telly was playing along. And, more than that, Telly was *taken*—remember that part? Anything Alastor thought he might read into Telly’s behavior thus far was in Alastor’s own semi-drunk head. Any touchy-feely-ness or effusive sentiment was just... how Victorian friendships were.

But what if Alastor was wrong and he passed up a chance...?

But he wasn’t wrong.

Dancing.

He could handle the dance without doing something unforgivable. Right? Unless somebody in the past had taught Sir Pentious how to dance with his new anatomy, he would probably say he missed dancing and Alastor would ask why he *didn’t* dance and Sir Pentious would say something like “*I have a little trouble keeping up with the footwork*” and Alastor would have the option to help him, or not. And all he had to do was *not*. That was it. Particularly here, in public, with people around who would notice if Alastor started pulling out magic tricks to help a snake glide across the dance floor. Instead he could tell Telly that he didn’t mind staying to the side with him, or maybe at most they could hold hands and sway a bit. And it would be fine.

He took one last breath of ~~fresh night air~~ muggy Swamp Ass fumes, put his mask back on, and went back inside.

Sir Pentious

By the time Alastor returned, the dancing was in full swing, the stage having sunk down into the floor (and Telly had been VERY curious about the mechanisms required to do that) to make space for the dancing. Couples twirled around the space, laughing and having a nice time.

Telly stood off to the side, having left the table as the workers started to clean them up. He held a fresh glass of wine, the silly straw stuck under his mask as he drank, his fan in the other hand idly wafting air at himself. He was glad for it, too, since masks did get awfully stuff, especially ones that were full face. After his initial conversation, more people had approached him, making more small talk, and some were now asking him to dance.

"No, no, I cannot," He said, covering his masked face with his fan. "I would say I have two left feet, but alas, I have no feet at all! I simply couldn't." He laughed and tittered, playing up the role of Queen of the Sea. The demon he turned down shrugged and walked off-- but was almost immediately replaced with another, begging his favor. Seemed like he was popular now! Might even have a line forming behind the current suitor-- a small crab-like demon, speaking in a deep Cajun accent.

Alastor

He heard music by the time he reached the bottom of the staircase—had the dancing already started? Alastor had been away longer than he’d thought. He picked up the pace to reach the banquet hall-turned-ballroom.

And there was *la reine de la mer*—attracting an audience, to Alastor’s pleasant surprise. Over the last half century he’d gotten so used to seeing Sir Pentious in isolation, shunned.

He caught up just in time to catch the *no left feet* pun, and wheezed a laugh even as his heart gave a painful squeeze—wasn’t that nearly exactly what he’d thought Sir Pentious would say about dancing? Some dumb foot pun? At the last moment, Alastor decided not to walk right up to Telly but rather to join the line, standing slightly out of it so that he was clearly visible from the front, examining his gloves boredly like he was just another guest waiting for a shot at the pretty snake in the pearls.

Sir Pentious

Telly took another sip of his wine, letting the Cajun crab make his attempt before rebuffing him all the same. It was then that he caught sight of Alastor waiting in line-- and oh, wasn't that just like him? To just hop in and see what Telly would do? A warmth that had nothing to do with the wine spread through Telly's chest. He stood up a little taller, staring down the next demon with all the regal authority he could bring to bear-- which was actually a substantial amount. What a change this must, from the Telly that Alastor normally saw.

The next demon-- actually the centaur from the show-- made their plea and Telly let the silence hang between them, as if considering the offer.

"Well, we would have the proper amount of feet, were I to join you, sweet one, but I'm afraid I simply could not-- Lord Poseidon would be terribly upset to have his Queen Amphitrite dance with one of Chiron's people!" He tittered and turned his face away, waving his fan in dismissal. There was now just one person between him and Alastor, and Telly smirked. Snapping his fan shut, he used it to simply push the next one aside handing off his wine glass as he did, slithering up to Alastor instead.

"And whom approaches but my Lord himself, waiting in line like common rabble-- come, my love, surely you need not wait. Take what is yours, by right." He flicked the fan open and held out his hand for Alastor to kiss-- or do what he would.

Alastor

Oh! He was getting *into* it! Alastor had always known Sir Pentious had a streak for showmanship, but he was getting downright theatrical. It was *captivating* to watch. It was hammy and melodramatic and over-the-top and a dozen other words that most people used to mean “bad over-acting” but *here*, out of *Sir Pentious*, it was bombastic magnificence, and it suited him *perfectly.*

And he’d put on that show for *Alastor.* Something in Alastor’s chest felt full, like his heart was poised on the precipice of taking a beat, waiting for some cue it hadn’t yet received.

“My dearest Amphitrite.” He took Telly’s hand lovingly, pressed the cold lips of his mask softly to the fingers. “I can only take what you’re generous enough to offer me! As far as I’m concerned, I *am* one of the common rabble, waiting humbly to receive your favor. As I have been since the moment I set eyes on you, and as I always will be.”

*He could handle the dance,* Alastor had thought. *It would be fine,* Alastor had thought. *He wasn’t going to do something unforgivable like immediately take advantage of the fact that he’d just been cast as the god of the sea to metaphorically confess his feelings,* Alastor had thought—

Sir Pentious

Oh, those words-- His heart felt fit to burst, and his breathing kicked up a tic. But no, no, control yourself Telly, Alastor was just playing the part. He was a consummate showman after all. The show must go on. But perhaps....

Well, as long as they were playing this game, he might as well lay it on thick, right? He was allowed that, wasn't he?

"My King, my Lord, you, common? Nonsense! You hold my heart, precious thing that it is. How can you say you are something common when you hold the heart of the Queen of the Seas? Do you seek to so debase your Queen? No! You are as kingly as any mortal king, moreso, even! No other Lord could dare to hold me so tightly-- I would burst free of their confines! But for you, I sit so meekly, for your love, I let you hold me tight."

He got closer and closer with every word, not even noticing the crowd they'd drawn with their antics. His face was so close to Alastor's now, they would be sharing breath were it not for the masks.

"Lord Poseidon, do you not love me enough to raise yourself up, so that you may carry me to even greater heights?" The words were whispered, an undercurrent to them that Telly hadn't meant-- a truth to the grandioseness that he desperately wanted to draw back in the moment it left.

Alastor

His breath stopped and started and stopped again, some needle in his chest shuddering as it spun from station to station, searching for the right song to score the scene and coming up blank. “I’d never so insult you, *ma reine*! Why, if I heard any common sailor claim your heart could fit in a mortal’s hands, I’d capsize his ship and drag him beneath the waves. However, Poseidon is only a king so long as Amphitrite makes him one! Without your touch, I’m just another tired sea monster sleeping beneath the waves, an unfinished potential demigod who only climbed halfway up Olympus before losing my strength and falling back down. It’s because I can hold you that I can be a god.”

He cupped a hand around Sir Pentious’s mask, thumb tracing the sculpted snakes that curled across its cheek. “But you were not born to sit meekly,” he hissed, a dangerous static noise like the distant crash of a tsunami beneath his words, “not for my love or anyone else’s. I’ll run myself through with a harpoon before I see you lower yourself on my account. But for your love, my queen, I’ll raise myself to your level—for your love, I’d lift us both all the way to Heaven above.”

Sir Pentious

Pink eyes stared through the holes in his mask, meeting red, lashes fluttering as he blinked. The touch to his mask-- he swore he could feel it, the way it burned like a brand upon his cheek. His hand came up to cover Alastor's immediately, holding it there-- he wanted that burn to sear straight inside of his head. His other hand snapped the fan shut and wrapped around his waist, tugging him in.

"Do not threaten yourself so-- I could not go on were you to leave me in such a manner. I will not lower myself, and you will raise me higher, my King, and all of Olympus will tremble neath the combined might of the sea." His eyes closed in that moment, forgetting everything but Alastor's touch-- and he leaned in, their masks clinking together in a pantomime of a kiss. He wanted more than anything to just rip them from their faces and kiss Alastor with all the passion he could muster.

But that moment was when the crowd around them erupted in applause and he snapped out of it. He pulled back, trying not to seem too frantic. He held Alastor's hand still, but pulled it from his mask, straightening and snapping his fan back out. Trying to regain some semblance of control, he bowed to their audience, forcing his breathing back into a normal rhythm.

Alastor

Everything Alastor wanted—deification and deicide and conquest and cruelty, for Icarus to touch the sun and for the Tower of Babel to touch the heavens—all offered to him in a single sentence, and without thinking he leaned in to accept it, his arm sliding behind Sir Pentious’s back, his eyes sliding shut, their masks pressed together so close Alastor could nearly taste Telly’s lips—

And then the show was over and the curtain fell. His eyes snapped open, the needle in his chest wrenched back to its usual station, and he was bowing sheerly out of an entertainer’s instinct before his mind had fully transitioned back from the ocean to the Inferno.

Sir Pentious

Telly was fanning himself a bit more now, just to have something to do with the hand that wasn't still gripping Alastor's. He bowed again, and someone tossed him a bouquet, which he _somehow_ caught. He blinked wide eyes and looked at Alastor, before looking back to the crowd.

"Ah, thank you?" He said, starting to slowly slither backward, towing Alastor with him. "We should-- Ah...Go get some more refreshments now, after a performance like that." He swallowed thickly and turned to go towards the drink table.

Alastor

Alastor went stiff when a big rustly projectile whizzed by just past him—oh, no, good projectile, safe projectile. Wow. Exactly how into it had they gotten? He wished he’d been paying better attention to their audience, he should have been drinking in their approval. He... actually, he didn’t know when he’d last been applauded, by strangers, sincerely.

His hand in Telly’s felt electric, and a shock jolted up his arm when Telly tugged on him. “Right! A fine idea.” His voice sounded thin and tinny. He followed in a haze—what just happened, how *real* was it?

Sir Pentious

A panic coursed through Telly's veins, like his heart was pumping fire-- Why had he done that? It was so stupid, he got so caught up in it! But still he kept Alastor close, he didn't want to make it seem like his haste had anything to do with getting away from _him_ after all.

Once at the champagne table, he released Alastor's hand, needing both of his to raise his mask and down one glass like a shot. And then he took another, sipping on this one. The action calmed him, at least somewhat, even if his mind still screamed in the background.

"That...That was something, wasn't it? I've never had an impromptu performance-- or any performance actually. They applauded us, that means it...it was good right?" Oh, he was rambling a bit, but he couldn't stop himself. "They must've liked it, they threw me a bouquet. I wonder if they thought it was part of the show of the ball? Odd. Never drew a crowd like that unless I was inciting violence--" He started to just drink champagne to shut himself up. _Stop it, you're being weird, Pentell._

Alastor

Don’t look at Alastor, he’s chugging champagne too. He didn’t quite pull off whatever magic trick lets him drink directly through the mask, and a thin stream of it ran over the mask’s curved smiling lip.

“It certainly was something! *Goodness,* you’re just—just a natural at improv, aren’t you! First violin duets, now... You’re holding out on me, you’ve got some practice partner you’re hiding somewhere, aren’t you?” Studio laughter. Did Alastor sound slightly hysterical? He did to his own ears. He decided he should drink champagne about it. “I’m sure they thought it was all par for the course—what’s a masquerade without a couple of natural performers putting on a little show, after all? But *my*, was that a Broadway-worthy performance! You almost had *me* convinced you’re really the queen of the sea...” *Almost had me convinced you really meant it.*

Sir Pentious

Don't worry Alastor, he's not looking because he too is chugging that champagne. How much until the panic goes away entirely? He was determined to find out.

"Mm, no, no practice, just always been good at thinking on my feet." He looked down and after a beat continued. "Or on my tail. It seemed a natural thing to do, considering where we are and all. Where's a better spot to have a dramatic little scene than at a ball? We'd call one without at least five a dull affair in my time."

Alastor

He wheezes at the “or on my tail” bit like it’s not only the funniest quip he’s heard all night, but also the last in a long line of funny quips that have left him with no spare breath to laugh. “Oh... you know, I haven’t kept count, but five seems like a good, solid number. I suppose we’ve had two so far, our performance and then that brawl at the start...” He turned around and leaned back against the refreshment table with a heavy sigh. “What troublemakers we are.”

Telly’s face was half exposed, it would be so easy for Alastor to slide off his own mask and—oh, no, no no no no. Don’t ruin this, don’t ruin this.

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed too, feeling a bit of the panic washing away-- See, Alastor was acting normally? Ish? Everything was fine. It was fine! He downed another full glass of champagne, before grabbing another to sip, once more.

"Indeed. I havn't had this much fun since-- well since we last were together." He laughed again, softer this time, a finger trailing around the rim of his glass. Telly raised it to take another sip-- one more for courage.

"Ala-- My lord, would you....care to dance? I'm not good by any means, not good enough to keep up with your fancy footwork, but perhaps, if it's a slow song and we can just do that thing that many movies have people do now, just sort of...stand and sway. I do miss dancing...."

Alastor

Alastor's heart made a single painful thud. He downed the rest of his second glass—God was he going to regret this in the morning—then turned to Sir Pentious and held out his hand. "My lady, it would be my unparalleled delight." Don't do anything stupid. He could handle this without doing anything stupid. Right?

Sir Pentious

Telly's smile was clear from how his mask was currently and he finished off his glass as well. He set it aside, and lowered the mask again, offering his hand to Alastor.

"Shall we the, darling?"

Alastor

He felt like he'd spent half the night with his hand in Telly's and it still wasn't enough, he felt like it was never going to be enough. "Let's."

He found a spot near the edge of the dance floor where they were out of the way of the non-dancing pedestrians but wouldn't collide with the more enthusiastic dancers in the middle of the room. Perfect place to just hold each other and sway.

Sir Pentious

Telly almost put his hand on Alastor's waist, as if he were going to lead-- but no, he was the lady in this instant. He placed his hand on his shoulder instead, his other holding Alastor's in the proper dancing stance he was used to. Though, now that he thought about, the swaying in more modern movies had the lady putting both her arms on the shoulders....

Ah, it would be fine like this. He pressed close to Alastor, trying to keep himself from chewing his lip under his mask. Wouldn't do to bleed on his costume after all.

They drew eyes-- after the spectacle of all Telly's refusals and then that dramatic performance, how could they not? Telly hardly noticed, though, eyes only for Alastor.

Alastor

Alastor was completely oblivious to their audience, and almost barely even conscious of the music. He was slightly dizzy as they danced, and he wasn't sure if it was all the alcohol or the giddiness or the motion of the swaying itself.

He slid his hand from Telly's waist to his back and rested his head on Telly's shoulder. He was just getting his balance back, that was all.

Sir Pentious

Telly smiled at the closeness, and leaned his head against Alastor's in turn. Oh, this was very nice-- he felt so warm inside. He also couldn't tell if that was from the alcohol or being able to hold Alastor like this. Swaying was easier than actually dancing, and felt far more intimate, but that didn't send the panic through him like it would've before-- he felt so content right now, he never wanted to go anywhere else.

Alastor

"Why did you send off everyone else that asked you to dance?" Alastor asked without lifting his head. "They were lining up for a shot with you. You didn't have to wait for me."

Sir Pentious

Oh. Oh he hadn't been expecting to be asked that. He didn't let himself freeze, kept swaying-- what was this song? He'd never heard it before-- No, _focus_ Pentell.

"I didn't want to dance with anyone else."

Alastor

"Really?" Alastor chuckled. "Well. Aren't I the luckiest man in the room?"

Sir Pentious

A purr started deep in his chest, and he held Alastor closer. "Yes, incredibly lucky. The only person I want to dance with, you get all of me to yourself." He chuckled softly.

Alastor

"Too bad for everyone else." His arms curled possessively around Telly. For a few minutes, this was all his.

The booze was catching up with him—just enough that his usually sharp grasp of time was slipping out of his fingers, and enough that he forgot to ask himself whether he had moved outside the bounds of even Sir Pentious's remarkably permissive standards for friendship. He was content to stay right here as long as he was allowed, riding high on gilded dreams of conquering Heaven, warm and drunk and happy.

Sir Pentious

Telly didn't mind, not in the slightest-- alcohol suffusing his system, he was content to just stand here and sway for the rest of eternity, locked in the arms of his-- His.....friend.... Just a friend. Yes, of course, this-- this was all just friendly, that's all. He'd keep that repeating in his head until it felt real. Maybe that would squash the soaring of his heart.

He stayed like that, contented and swaying, not noticing as party-goers started filtering out. Even when the music shut off, he didn't notice, or care. But the lights flicking on, now that was something he definitely noticed, and he lifted his head to squint as a waiter approached them.

"_Pardon, messieurs. L'événement se termine et je crains que nous ne devions humblement vous demander de partir._" The waiter said, and Telly straightened up, giving a nod.

Alastor

Alastor opened his eyes for the first time in the last three songs, blinked blearily at the waiter, and muttered a vague protest in a thick twangy Cajun accent. No, wait, right, he remembered where he was, they were at an *event.* They couldn’t stay all night.

He straightened up with a sigh—although he briefly clutched tighter at the back of Telly’s dress. “Can you believe it? Us, getting kicked out like a couple of common vagabonds?” His voice is OOZING disapproval.

Sir Pentious

Oh, the clutching had his breath catch, and it took a minute for his brain to catch up with what Alastor said. He smiled under his mask, flicking out his fan again, back straightening.

"Hm! Yes, it's atrocious! We are Gods, and will leave when we deign to, not when told." He stared down the waiter who began to sweat under his gaze.

"Look into my eyes, whelp." He commanded, and the waiter complied-- and then the waiter stiffed momentarily before his body loosened and began swaying as if to music. "_You will gather the other waiters and leave this ballroom, and not return until day breaks._"

His voice was layered with a strange sort of effect, making it seem to echo and ring oddly in the ear. The waiter nodded, eyes filling with a pink haze as he turned and went about the orders. Once he was far enough away, Telly sagged, leaning against Alastor.

"Oh, didn't expect....I think I need air, darling." He fanned himself more.

Alastor

Even *Alastor* was compelled by it. He took a half step after the waiter, nearly following him before his still-clutched hands prevented him from going farther and he snapped out of it.

He shook his head, blinking dazedly. “I always forget you can do that.” Good thing Alastor hadn’t been making eye contact, or he’d probably be halfway out the door too. But being unusually sensitive to sound and particularly drunk was enough.

He shifted his grip to better help support Telly’s weight and keep him upright. “Let’s head outside.” Alastor laughed, “Before one of the krewe organizers finds the hypnotized hired help and comes to investigate!”

Sir Pentious

"I don't like to do it much, it always tires me out." He slithered along sluggishly, leaning on Alastor, the cheek of his mask pressed against the top of Alastor's head.

"It was fun, though, wasn't it? Heh, never thought I'd hypnotize a waiter for politely asking me to leave an event." He giggled. And oh, the thought suddenly hit him that he was _very_ drunk. And then there were more giggles.

Alastor

“For emergency use only! Hah! Hell of an emergency we’ve got here, isn’t it?” His studio audience laughed raucously, what comedy. He leaned on Telly in an attempt to speak more directly to him, nearly accidentally dragging them off course. “They oughta have known better than to tell a god what to do.”

Sir Pentious

Telly stumbled a bit-- though how a snake stumbled, he'd be baffled by for all eternity-- and giggled more. "Oh, Alastor, you're hilarious!" Even more giggles.

"Hmmm, yes, should've known better after my performance earlier! Won't settle to be talked to by the _help_." He snickered. Once outside, he took a few breaths and then moved his mask to take better breathes. And you know what? Off the mask came completely. It took a few tires, but he used the ribbons to tie it to his belt, so as not to lose it.

He turned to grin at Alastor, taking his masked face in his hands to press a kiss to the nose of his mask-- my, my someone was feeling brave. "Thank you, for all of this, Alastor. I truly felt like a goddess this whole night."

Alastor

That giggle was as good as having a packed auditorium give him a standing ovation. “Oh I know, I’m a riot! But feel free to remind me any time.”

He went perfectly still as Telly kissed him—even through the mask, he could feel it on his nose’s tip, a warm tingle spreading up the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks. If he took his mask off, he could...

No. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. It would ruin everything. (But God, God he WANTED IT.) He pursed his lips forward to kiss the inside of his own mask—that was all he could do. “You should feel like that every single day and night. Someday you *will.*”

Alastor couldn’t keep looking in Telly’s eyes. He turned away, gaze sweeping over the square and the other late night stragglers heading home from the ball. “I’m thinking about next year’s plans!” Change the topic back to something safe.

Sir Pentious

He let him change the subject, his arm wrapping around Alastor's waist to continue walking-- though the pace was nice and slow, Telly didn't know if he had it in him to slither any faster.

"Mm, what were you thinking? Something extravagant and wild, I'm hoping? Something worthy of us, the King and Queen of the Sea?" He purred the words, pulling Alastor close against his side.

Alastor

“We *could* do that! It’s certainly an option. Or—*or*—we could get some cheap polyester costumes we’ll throw away the next day, and run around pelting everyone’s expensive velvets and brocades with chalk!” Even with his mask on, Alastor’s mischievous glee was visible in his eyes.

Sir Pentious

Oh look at his eyes going instantly silly mode at the suggestion. The grin on his face is as wide as Alastor's mask and he let out a loud laugh.

"Oh yes! Wouldn't that just ruffle the feathers of all of the hoity-toitys! And bring back a favorite tradition of Carnival as well! They residents of Swamp Ass won't know what hit them-- until they discover it's chalk!" He stopped slithering to bounce in place a little. "OH WE COULD DO WATER BALLOONS TOO! FILL THEM WITH COLORED DYES!! WHAT FUN THAT WOULD BE!!"

Alastor

“*Yes!* Fill ‘em up with swamp water! They’ll be dyed *and* stink to high heaven! Nobody’s getting their costume rental deposits back next year, hahaaa!”

Sir Pentious

Telly started cackling wildly, so much so he had both arms around Alastor simply trying to keep himself vertical. "Oh, Alastor, it's GENIUS!"

And his hand is cupping the side of his masked face again, and pressing a kiss to the cheek this time-- the drunk snake is feeling EXCEEDINGLY brave!

Alastor

Alastor couldn’t take it, that gleeful cackle, that praise, that *kiss*— In his frantic fumbling attempt to untie the mask’s ribbon, he snapped its adhesive on one side. Before the mask hit the ground, Alastor had one arm around Telly’s neck, one hand behind Telly’s head, and his lips on Telly’s lips.

Sir Pentious

Oh. Oh! Some part of his brain registered that this _wasn't_ something purely platonic, but that part was quietly beat to death by the rest that screamed in vindication at the kiss. The hand on Alastor's cheek slid to the back of his head, tangling in his hair as he kissed back, ravenous.

It took a bit for him to pull back, breathing hard, every nerve alight, and he blinked owlishly. "I-I...ah, well, we-we should-- we should head back now, shouldn't we? It's...it's late, we've...we've had a lot to drink, we should....we should go back....Probably...should stay at the hotel tonight...." He rambled on, brain trying to put things in order, still punchdrunk from the kiss. But he still held tight to Alastor, his arm around him, crushing the Radio Demon to his side as he fanned himself, trying to regain some composure.

Alastor

He’d missed this, he’d missed this, he’d missed this, half a century of heavy aching grieving longing tumbled off his shoulders and crashed to the ground and he felt light enough to float, he felt like pure energy bouncing between the clouds. A hundred radios in every direction started singing “—Loving you the way that I do, there's nothing I can do about it. Loving may be all you can give, but baby I can’t live without it*—“

And the second Sir Pentious pulled back, the weight crushed him again. Oh, God, what had he done? That was *far* over the line, that left the line vanishing behind them over the horizon, what the Hell had he been thinking, he’d ruined everything, he’d lost everything he’d just had, couldn’t even control himself for one God damned evening without losing what little he had, and for the third time he was going to ruin everything he had with Sir Pentious by stupidly, stupidly *falling* like this and not being able to *keep it to himself*—

He couldn’t stand being held so tightly. He melted out of Sir Pentious’s grip, a shadow, reforming just outside his arms. “Yes! You’re right, I—Look at us, we’re making utter fools of ourselves, aren’t we. I’m... so sorry. High time we head out.” He hesitated; then held out his hand, palm up, shoulders hunched and stiff, looking away. “I’ve got to... you know. Portal. Safety.”

Sir Pentious

He'd been using Alastor to support himself, and when he melted out, Telly fumbled and fell. He caught himself with his hands against the cobbles, blinking-- What had just happened? His head was ringing and he could feel a pressure behind his eyes, burrowing into his brain. He stood slowly and dusted himself off.

"...Right, right. Yesss, let'sss-- Let'sss go." He took Alastor's hand, slowly, carefully, unsure and cautious after that. "The hotel, if you would, Alassstor."

Alastor

Here he was, rambling like a drunken idiot, registering a full ten seconds late the *fwump* of a giant noodle flopping to the ground. A loud beep covered up a swear as he rushed to offer support, nearly flinched back—*don’t do too much, don’t offer too much*—then completed the motion anyway. “I am *so* sorry, I— How utterly careless of me, are you alright?”

Sir Pentious

"Yess, yess, I'm fine." He accepted the help, standing up back on his tail, blinking. He pressed his fan to his head and wobbled a bit. "I think I need to lay down, though. Everything'ss ssstarting to ssswim." He held Alastor's hand, a bit too tightly.

Alastor

“Of course. Are you alright to travel through a portal, or...?” He needed to get a better way to transport Telly around if they were going to keep doing things like this—

—but they weren’t, were they? Not anymore.

Sir Pentious

"I think ssso, if I clossse my eyesss. Jussst....maybe teleport usss into a bathroom. I may need to....you know.....after the trip." He held tight to Alastor, eyes squeezed closed, ready to be teleported.

Alastor

Alastor grimaced. “Should have planned our ride home, shouldn’t we.” Nothing to do about it now but grin and bear the travel sickness. “All right.” One last time, he’d let himself wrap his arms around Telly—just to keep him safe. “On three, two, one...”

A few seconds of floating, and they were in a bathroom at the hotel. Without even asking Alastor leaned over and lifted the toilet’s lid and seat, have at it.

Sir Pentious

It's a good thing he did because Telly is immediately over it, vomiting. There goes his whole meal for the night, and all that wine and champagne. He is definitely going to be feeling this in the morning.

Alastor

Alastor leaned back against the sink, could only maintain the image of aloofness for a few seconds, and unsteadily knelt next to Telly to rub his back. There, there.

When the heaving finally started to let up, Alastor said, “Here you are, upchucking a whole bucket of booze into a hotel toilet—congratulations! You’ve now had the full Mardi Gras experience!” Studio laughter.

Sir Pentious

He chuckled weakly, lifting his head to grab some toilet paper to wipe his mouth. He flushed it and took a few breaths, closing his eyes.

"Think I would've preferred a slightly less full. It was wonderful until the vomiting." He sighed and leaned over to heave a few more times. Once his stomach was certain it was all out, he sat back against his coils.

"Still, despite _this_--" He gestured to the toilet. "I had the best night, Alastor, thank you. I look forward to next year even more-- throwing things at people is so simple and yet so much fun!"

He laughed and then groaned, his hand against his forehead. "Think I should lay down now..."

Alastor

Best night? Next year? Suddenly Alastor felt light again. Maybe the lightness was helium in his lungs. It would explain why his voice seemed to go up half an octave when he said, “Really?” He could still say that after horking a bowl of jambalaya into the toilet?

He could still say that after what Alastor did?

Would he still be saying that in the morning?

“Yes, that’s a good idea.” He half stood and leaned over to offer his arms to Telly. “Let’s find you a spot to rest.” Alastor sure wasn’t teleporting him back to the airship, that was for sure. “Water?”

Sir Pentious

"Water, yes, that would be good." He turned on the faucet, drinking straight from it-- and was very glad that he'd already done the pipe work for the hotel. It didn't taste terrible, at the very least. He splashed some on his face, forgetting his make up-- until a lash started drooping. He peeled them off and tossed them in the sink.

"Let's go, Alastor. I want someplace warm..."

Alastor

Someplace warm. Alastor’s inebriated brain slid right past the hundreds of empty rooms with warm, fluffy beds and straight down to the bar. “There’s a fireplace in the lobby?” He pulled down a towel and offered it to Telly.

Sir Pentious

Telly took it and wiped off his face, smudging the eye make up around more than cleaning it off.

"Mm, yes, that sounds nice," He said, dropping the towel into the sink with the lashes. He wrapped his arm around Alastor's shoulders and grinned.

"Onward!"

Alastor

“*Onward.*”

Out the door, down the hall, and down the stairs. He kept a firm grip on Telly this time—he wasn’t about to drop him again, he didn’t know if he’d ever forgive himself for that. But it made for slow going. He hoped none of the hotel staff/residents caught them. (He hoped his alternate didn’t catch them—what the hell would Alastor say?)

Sir Pentious

Luckily, the late hour meant that most were fast asleep, even as this drunk snake and deer combo stumbled through the halls. They only got down one floor when Telly caught sight of the most glorious siren of them all-- a radiator.

"_There_," He muttered, pointing at it. "I want to lay there."

Alastor

That seemed perfectly reasonable and not the least bit weird to Alastor. “Okay, come on...” Over to the radiator they went.

Sir Pentious

Telly purred once they got to it and released Alastor to curl around it. Before he closed his eyes, though, he sat back up and grabbed Alastor's arm.

"Wait! I almost forgot!" He pulled the fan from his belt and held it out to Alastor. "I want you to have this."

Alastor

Alastor stared at the fan, dumbfounded. “*Really?* But you made this.” Very sensible objection, drunk man.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I did! I can make another if I want. I want you to have it. A memento of tonight." And then he sat up further, his hand going to Alastor's cheek and he kissed him, softly and with his mouth firmly shut-- he didn't want Alastor tasting the sour taste that still lingered in his mouth.

With that, he lay down again, and was out before he hit the floor.

Alastor

Any further objections Alastor might have voiced were smashed into a gory pulp as Telly kissed Alastor again.

And then Telly was unconscious and Alastor was alone, mind reeling.

For a long time he sat there in the dark, staring at Telly.

And then he teleported to the hotel kitchen and sat *there* in the dark, staring into space.

What the hell happened tonight.

#usedhearts #chat log

11 notes · View notes