Vriska Serket and the Double Ironic Twist Meta Joke
This is an AU of my Underworld AU! If you haven’t read the WHOLE fic John Egbert and the Fall of Man, this ficlet won’t make ANY sense! Don’t even click on the readmore, seriously, you’ll be spoiled.
You wake up in that totally boring dream again. In that totally boring hilly field full of windmills your brain makes up for you. With that totally boring, boring, BORING guy again. Snore. You wish you could fall back into sleep again. Double sleep? Dreamless sleep? Whatever!!!!!!!!
He’s sitting next to you in the grass, in your old Scorpio shirt and skinny jeans and square glasses (when you thought they were cool! Ugh, past-you sucks!), and looking totally not attractive at all. Totally not attractive. Like you’d never ever want to tear those jeans off his legs, and then fuck him, and then shave said legs in a bathtub while you’re both naked, and then fuck him again. That is definitely not one of your many weird fantasies you’ve had about him in these past few days, no sir.
John winks at you, then takes a strand of your hair and tucks it back behind your ear. Which, eugh, romance, but you tolerate it because you want to be handed those pair of gams and a Gillette razor on a silver platter and go to fucking town.
“Hey Vriska,” he says, and he’s very clearly attempting to turn up the charm to eighty-eight. “I’ve got something important to tell you.”
You brush his hand away. “It can’t be that important, imaginary friend who is imaginary! But tell me anyway, I want to hear.”
“God, you are so in denial! It’s really cute.” He laughs. “Anyway, I’d like you to help me with a really great prank I’m going to play on my friends! I’ve been gone a long time, like, a loooooooong time-” He pauses to wiggle his eyebrows at you after using your trademark vowel extension. What a dork. “And I think it’ll be really funny if you and me, as a team, gave them a surprising what-for! Are you down, or are you double down?”
“Well, that would depend on what kind of prank we’re pulling, dream boy!”
“Trust me, it’s a lot of fun. They all think I’m dead, so it’d be funny if I sprang out of the jack-in-the-box of life to see them?” He pauses. “Wait, no, this honestly isn’t that funny. I think I just want to… see my friends again.”
He looks sad, so you give him a very strong pat on the back. Oooo, those shoulder blades, woof. He makes this ‘guh’ noise, and then continues talking.
“But it’d be really fun for you, Vriska! You’d get a whole lot of my power and stuff as part of the prank, and I think you’d have a great time using it.” He pauses to point at your nose, joke-sternly. “You have to be good though.”
You clasp your hands together, like you’re begging. “Oh, John, I proooooooomise to be good! What do you need me to do?”
“I’m going to make you a god.”
“Awesome! Sign me up!” you say. Dream or not, gods are baller. “How do I start?”
“Easy! You just have to fall in love with me!”
That makes you start. “What?”
“You see, I’m the god of storms, winds, and-” he pauses to take a deep breath, then sighs out the word, “-love.”
“God of love. God of. Love. Seriously?” you say, deadpan. You put your hand on his shoulder, then say with a stern voice, “John, I’m sorry. Feelings are for losers. Romantic love. Is for losers. It’s the truth.”
John looks horrified. He physically recoils away from you. “Oh my god. You actually can’t fall in love… How can you… How can you not like-” he rainbows his hands out, and shitty dream sparkles fly through the air. “-romance?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Any way for me to be a god besides for falling in love with you? Because I really don’t see that happening. Ever. And being a god sounds, like, the coolest!”
“Well, you can have any kind of love for me, it doesn’t have to be romantic. And as soon as you get feelings, whabam! My powers become yours! But there isn’t really time to develop a deep friendship, not before your big pole dancing show.” He taps his chin, thinking. “Or, hey wait, I have another idea! You can ‘love’ me in a different way. You do like… this, right?”
He’s swift when he kisses you, and you expect him to knock his head against yours with how fast he goes, but to your surprise he’s so very gentle when you meet. Almost infuriatingly so. He’s slow, teasing, never deepening the kiss, and you make the worst sex noise ‘peep’ of your life when he lowers his hand.
“I promise, I’m really good,” he whispers, grazing your lips. “The best, even.”
He is good. You’re getting tingles already.
