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#and the worst part is that most people don’t even say anything like that to me anymore but I hear it anyway
thelostboys87 · 5 months
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like yeah dude it’s really cool that you used AI to complete an art piece that was purposefully left unfinished because the artist was dying of AIDS as the government ignored the mass loss of life and health. all you really did was show that technology can bring an art piece into the modern age but why? why do we need to do that? what does it say about us if we feel that a piece needs to be ‘completed’? how are we viewing completion?? can seeing an ai generated “completion” of unfinished have the same effect of seeing the parts haring left blank and the parts where the art drips into the blank? does it aid the narrative of it in any way? can AI understand the levels at which artists used their pieces about AIDS as a form of protest? of begging to be seen? how can it when an AI’s concept of ‘completing’ the piece is just guesswork of what the colours and shapes would look like to match what haring made which is nowhere near the same level of intention that came from him? you said you ‘completed’ the piece with ai because his story is so sad but does that mean we should try to rectify sadness by getting rid of the representation of it? should we not continue to sit in the sadness and discomfort that unfinished and other AIDS inspired art asks us to do because those feelings are only a fraction of what the people who died and lost felt, is that not the least we can do for them? and what good does any of this actually do when we can use technology to ‘complete’ a purposefully unfinished art piece about an artist’s untimely death from AIDS but we can never bring keith haring or any other person who died of AIDS back to life? where does haring, the person whose illness and death lives in those blanks, come into your self fulfilling ai generated completion of his work?
#like I don’t feel anything when I see it because I don’t see the depth of a man processing his own untimely death#I saw someone say this proves AI can be transgressive and like ai has nothing to do with the potential of completing a piece like that#it didn’t make any choices with significance it just filled in the blanks in a very mechanical way#blanks that haring had to think about leaving blank and what that would mean#you could have achieved that with like. human artists and in that way you could have the piece be more intentionally connected#to the original and it’s artist#you know I’m actually not even an ai isn’t real art person#because I think it gets counterproductive to draw thick lines between what is and what isn’t art#and I think elements of ai could be developed in a harmless way#but ai art as it popularly exists currently IS harmful to most artists#and just people in general#it doesn’t matter whether it’s art or not what matters is the impact it’s having#and there are a lot of bad impacts#this one isn’t the worst I just think it’s an example of how stupid people are with ai art and like#how a lot of peoples defence of ai art actually misses the point of art#because they see it in a technical skill mechanical way#it says SOOOO much that people thought this piece needed to be ‘#’completed’ and that filling in the blank would aid the message#and assumed that the blank parts didn’t hold the same if not more artistic weight#sorry for posting about discourse I saw on twitter do you still think I’m hot
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gemstarstarlight · 2 years
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I think that I think a little too much about how uncomfortable I would be in a relationship and yet how much I would be letting people down if I told them I was ace and almost certainly permanently uninterested.
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unkreativstermensch · 8 months
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"Still super jealous as hell by the way.“
"Okay, now, can you…get outta my face?“ Steve annoyedly swats a hand at Eddie’s chest and ducks out of his space.
Eddie sighs and shakes his head. "Why are you-" He purses his lips, thinks. "You don’t…you still don’t like me very much, do you?"
At that Steve stops walking, huffs out an annoyed breath and presses his eyes closed. He turns to Eddie, looks at him with an expression Eddie can’t read and says, "No, Eddie. No, I don’t."
Eddie just watches him for a second, not sure what to do, studies his face, the furrow between his brows, the clear discomfort in his expression.
He scoffs. Getting a little angry. "Jesus, man,“ he says. "You just can’t get over it, huh? And here I was rambling on about how you were actually a good dude after all, but…no, turns out Steve Harrington is still just as much stuck in his stupid high school mindset as I would have thought.“
Steve just looks more annoyed now, a slight shift in his eyebrow and…he looks…frustrated? A little? How does that make sense?
"You,“ Steve says, voice low, but not because of the monsters, Eddie knows that much, "are unbelievable.“
Eddie blinks. "What?“
"Eddie, you’re the one who can’t get over it,“ Steve accuses him. "You always talk about that non-conformist shit and how people should just stop with the categories and drawers and labels but, dude, you’ve never judged people that way yourself! I have been saved in your brain as this dumb idiot jock ever since you’ve known me and…“ Steve huffs out an unbelieving breath. "And Eddie, I don’t know what to tell you…but you’ve never been nice to me. Ever. And when Lucas made the basketball team, which is amazing, by the way, you weren’t proud of him or supported him for that incredible achievement like you should have if he’s really one of your 'little sheep‘.“ He draws quotation marks in the air. "You punished him for it. You said you can’t make Hellfire? Fuck you. I’m just gonna have the most important part of the campaign without you, because you know what, you don’t deserve us anymore now that you’ve joined the dark side. Now that you’ve taken up a…a jock game. Because god forbid, somebody could actually ever enjoy playing sports.“
Eddie can’t follow. His mind’s lagging behind, still stuck on Steve apparently knowing DnD terms and saying he was never nice to him and-
Steve takes another step back.
"Eddie, for as long as I can remember you hated me. And yeah, sure, I was stupid and I did some stupid things, but…“ he shrugs one sided. "But I don’t think I deserve to be treated that way. I think I at least deserved a chance. And you never gave me one.“
Eddie blinks. "What do you mean I never gave you a chance, I-"
"Biology, sophomore year,“ Steve interrupts him. "We were assigned lab partners. I tried to really…put all of it aside, tried to get to know you, because actually, Eddie, you know what? I was sort of obsessed with you. Because you were so…loud and so unashamedly yourself, I admired you so much. You didn’t care about anything and you stood up for yourself and that’s something I’ve never been able to do, my whole life. I…“ Steve looks down, sighs a little. "I let people push me around because it’s the only way I feel like I can be of use. But you…you made me believe that maybe actually I…could do it, you know? Like, tell Tommy H. off or something…“ He looks so hurt. Eddie kind of wants to die. "But you…you acted like it was the worst thing ever, getting partnered with me. You didn’t even look at me. You…never gave me a chance, Eddie. So…sorry if one 'you’re actually a good dude, Harrington' doesn’t make me forget all of that, make up for it. Because I’m not so sure I believe you.“
Oh.
Oh no.
Eddie fucked up.
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ham1lton · 2 months
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nepo sister?
pairing: lando norris x fellow driver’s sister!reader (no faceclaim).
summary: your sister is one of the most famous f1 drivers in history and when she suddenly has a barrage of hate and online users comparing her to a certain lando norris, you’ve gotta step in and sort it out. you couldn’t foresee the man in question being into you.
warnings: jokes about adoption but it’s lighthearted. also mentions of racism and sexism. also y/n bullying poor lando in defence of her sister.
author’s note: as i do with requests, i put my own little spin on it! hope u enjoy 💕also i used aaliyah as your sister’s faceclaim but she’s your adopted sister so y/n is still pretty much whoever you view her to be. i refer to yn’s older sis as o/s. in case you were wondering who tf that is. reminder that requests are currently still open!
edit: now part of a series ! <3
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liked by oldersister, yourbffsuser and 20,873 others.
yourusername: why is my sister so dramatic? she picked me up from the airport in a FUR jacket in a LIMO? also this cat is evil. genuinely evil. cat satan. catan?
oldersister: i was at an EVENT! 😭 you’re lucky i even picked your ass up anyways 🙄🖕🏾.
-> user1: their dynamic is so funny.
user2: y/n in melbourne for the grand prix??? 😍
user4: o/s looks sooo good 😍😍😍
user3: the cat is so cute 🥺
-> yourusername: no need to lie bae ❤️
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liked by zendaya, oldersister and 627,982 others.
yourusername: my sister before, during and after the race. plus our dad!! he’s new to this ig shit so be nice or i’ll bulldoze your grandma. let me start by just say something… my sister is one of the best drivers in the world. i see a lot of people cussing her out and all i’m gonna say is don’t pmo. she’s my sister but even besides that, her multiple historic accolades speak for themselves. quit playing with your misogynistic and racist shit before i drag your whole lineage.
oldersister: stop being so aggressive 🙄 but thank you. love you.
-> yourusername: posted this to cover the fact i spent $82 on fast food using your card 😘
-> oldersister: that’s it? that’s not the worst you’ve done tbf.
hater1: be real. lando is better than o/s in every shape and form. it’s just a fact.
-> yourusername: so why is o/s a two-time world champion and lando isn’t?
user1: SPEAK ON IT!!! 🗣️🔈
hater2: o/s is overrated.
-> yourusername: snore. ass take. come up with something original and not completely false.
user2: y/n said might i suggest you don’t fuck with my sis!!!
-> user6: she’s in her solange era 😭
user3: is this because someone said y/n was worse than lando?
-> yourusername: like 🤣 don’t ever compare the two. o/s is a world champion and lando is… lando.
-> landonorris: NO CAUSE WHY AM I IN THIS???? 😭
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liked by charles_leclerc, tomholland and 283,928 others
landonorris: just woke up to my name trending on twitter. what you say fuck me for 😭😭 stop using my name to drag my fellow drivers i’m begging you.
user1: no cause if anything these haters are lando antis and not o/s antis. they set your ass up omgggg. pure insane hate.
user2: fighting for my life defending you.
user3: the three diff angles of the same george crying vid is crazy work ngl.
-> georgerussell63: no cause HE got dragged and now he’s setting ME up.
-> user3: dw king. find solace in that he either searched google purely for this photo or had them saved onto his phone. haters nowadays are fans in denial.
-> landonorris: nah i’m just a hater.
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liked by landonorris, oldersister and 726,733 others.
yourusername: i met lando nowins. i guess he’s cool.
oldersister: now that’s just not right.
-> landonorris: i know!! after the four hour long convo y/n and i had, she still drags me 😔💔.
-> oldersister: i wasn’t talking about that. i’m talking about the picture she chose for me. why did she use that photo after catching me off guard??? and if you know y/n, get ready for the bullying. she does it to all her loved ones.
user2: HELPJSJSJAKA
user3: this is the content i follow you for y/n.
*liked by yourusername.*
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cripplecharacters · 25 days
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Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?
[large text: Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?]
(TLDR: no. literally no.)
A frequent topic that shows up around facial differences is the self-hatred, self-disgust, self-insert-negative-emotion that we must surely experience. I want to ask* writers without FDs - why? Why do you feel about us in such a way that that's the most common way of depicting us?
*- rhetorical question. I promise I know the answers, but I'm not sure if writers do.
It's frankly worrying to me. Is it really that common to assume that disabled people have this internal, never-ending hatred for themselves? The overwhelming majority of us don't. We hate inaccessibility, when people stare, or some symptoms when they get in the way, or how expensive being disabled is, but I find the concept of us being so completely disturbed by our own disabilities extremely strange. It’s “tragedy porn” intersecting “most basic ableism”.
“But trauma!”
[large text: “But trauma!”]
Trauma of what! People with facial differences don't have some sort of default trauma that we come with like it’s a factory setting. We are a group of people with tens of thousands of stories and experiences!
“Trauma of experiencing ableism/disfiguremisia” - that's better, at least this means something. If you're writing a story about this, please get a sensitivity reader with a facial difference. You can assume how we feel all you want, but in my experience these assumptions are often bizarre and unrealistic. Or just end up writing the same “disability so sad” sob story that everyone has seen a billion times. If you want to write about disfiguremisia, you need to understand the nuance and have more than just the basic level knowledge (which 99% of people don’t have either). If you can’t do that, don’t write about it. Simple as that.
“Trauma of the accident” - thankfully, the accident is an event and a facial difference is a disability. If you want to connect these two like they're one and the same, you're almost surely going to demonize disability. People with traumatic spinal cord injuries, acquired amputees, people with TBI, people with acquired facial differences - we participate in our communities, we have hobbies, we date, we play with our dogs. Disability isn't a death sentence. Media who make it feel like it is certainly don't help people who do suddenly become disabled, don't you think?
Here's a post by @blindbeta about blind characters becoming blind through trauma that’s better made than anything I could hope to write here. I heavily recommend giving it a read.
And, I can't stress this enough - most of us didn't have “the accident”, most of us are born like this! "Traumatic scars" isn't the only facial difference that exists, far from it, it's only one of thousands. It's 99% of our representation and "representation". If you want to make a character with FD - please consider that we aren't a monolith. Just like not all physical disabilities are "wheelchair user with paralysis", not all facial differences are "traumatic scar with somehow no nerve damage".
The overrepresentation of it is incredibly telling, and sometimes - or very frequently - feels like the writer doesn’t actually even want to deal with us. They want to use our disability as a way to cheap drama, moral metaphors, tragic backstories. Not to represent us as living people who are much more similar to you than you apparently think.
Now, I do have enough awareness to know that that's a big part of the appeal. “Horrific Thing #2456 happens” and boom, instant drama! Of course, it's a reasonable response that they would hide their disability for years, avoid talking about it in any way, and magically change their personality to be mean and reclusive, or at least be constantly soooo sad about how much it sucks to be disabled, right?
Do I really need to say that having your character becoming disabled be the worst thing ever is ableism 101? We have been talking about this for so long at this point. Writing about the process of adapting to a specific disability is better left to people who have actual experience in it.
To give an example that will hopefully resonate more with Tumblr users, I will use the fact that I'm also gay. It's not perfect by any means but probably much more familiar territory.
Imagine, let's say, a character. He's gay. The story he's in is supposedly progressive, certainly not trying to be homophobic. The character has experienced an incident, maybe an act of aggression or a hate crime, that happened because he’s gay, which was traumatic. Happens IRL, sure. So of course the character starts hating being gay. He talks about how gross and disgusting it is, he never lets anyone know that he could be “one of them”, certainly not take a stance against homophobia. You can't mention him without mentioning the accident, they're seemingly fused together. No gay love, joy, even basic happiness, he would actually choose to be straight in a heartbeat if given the option to and complains that he can't. This is shown as a neutral, obvious thing that a gay man would do, no one comments on it. He stays like this the whole time, unless there’s a plot twist in the last 10 pages where the world is now magically perfect ("we fixed discrimination, yay!"). This is the only LGBT character in the story.
Keep in mind that there are people similar to this in real life, living with extreme internalized homophobia.
Is this, in your opinion, realistic and thoughtful representation? How does it feel when written by a cishet writer, versus a gay writer who is recalling his experiences? Do you think that it's reasonable for the majority of media representation to be like this, or very close to it? How would it affect younger gay people who might already be uncomfortable with being queer? Are gay men the target audience, or are they not even considered as a group of people who read books? Is this helping or damaging the general public's idea of how it is to be gay? Why or why not?
The Masterpiece
[large text: The Masterpiece]
From 13 to 19 of May, we are celebrating Face Equality week (what a coincidence!). It’s important to me in general - and I wish it was more important to abled people, but I digress - especially its theme for this year.
“My Face is a Masterpiece”
Great statement, it represents the community well, I do enjoy how bold it is. Very cool stuff, I love the work our advocates are doing!
But why do I bring this up?
Well, to very non-subtly show that we aren’t a self-hating group of people. We are a community, a community saying “our faces are beautiful, look!”, we are saying “treat us equally, and do it now!”. Our activism isn’t about self-disgust. It’s about fighting your-disgust. 
Why can’t writers keep up? Why are you still stuck decades behind?
Is this the only reason I bring it up?
The Call to Celebration
[large text: The Call to Celebration]
FEI, the org behind organizing it, asks a very simple question (emphasis mine):
“Why do we so often see stories about facial difference as a ‘tragedy’, when they should be about triumph?” “Calling all artists, allies, creatives, galleries.  You can rewrite the story to bring about #FaceEquality and celebrate the unique artistry found in every face. Your participation this #FaceEqualityWeek will help to tell the real story, that there is a masterpiece in every face.”
Here. We are calling for you to stop. Directly from the biggest international advocacy alliance group that's out there. If you create, this is for you.
The last argument to not have your character with a facial difference hate themselves? Because we don’t want this. We are tired and frustrated. For me personally, I’m also offended by this kind of assumption. We aren’t tragedies or cheap entertainment for abled people to pity or be horrified by. We are people, and if you can’t internalize that, you have no reason to write about us.
For once, celebrate us. Happy Face Equality Week!
mod Sasza
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softtdaisy · 6 months
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🌲 a found family l max verstappen
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summary. you and max can't spend Christmas together but a trip to his dad and the love he has for you make him realize that he deserves better. a better life. a better love. a better family.
words count. 2,596
a/n. and this is the last piece for this Christmas series. Thanks to all of you for sticking me through December. and a massive thanks to my favorite person @monzabee for encouraging me and for giving me this beautiful idea to end the series 🫶
a very angsty Christmas l masterlist
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You looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a dress Max had bought you this year during one of your holidays. One of the many gifts he did to you this year, because if there were one thing that could describe your boyfriend it would be his generiosity. That man could buy you the world if you wanted it. 
And that was maybe what was making him the saddest tonight.
He could see you wearing it and neither could he offer you his gift. 
Because you were not spending Christmas’ eve together. But in each other’s family.
“You know this look is a great excuse to skip the diner at my dad’s?” Max asked which made you laughed. He was still sit on your bed, his shirt barely closed and his hair absolutely not styled. He was the closest to his place, compared to you who had to drive for almost two hours. 
He watched you as you walked to your phone, that you had put on your wardrobe to show your whole look. “You’re such a flirt, Maxie.” you kept laughing, specially when he started making his poutty face that you absolutely love. You always found it funny how most people saw him as this arrogant guy when he was such a sweetheart. 
“Ain’t I allowed to flirt with my girl?” 
“You are. It’s a shame you won’t enjoy the result of this flirt tonight.” 
This hasn’t been an easy decision for either of you. It’s was only your first christmas together since you started dating on january. And you really wish you could have spend the evening together. But you learn one thing through this past year: never go against Jos Verstappen’s plan. 
From the first race you attended, you got the feeling Jos didn’t really appreciate you. You tried to talk about it with Max without making a whole drama out of it but he didn’t really react. Or say anything, actually.
Not that Max didn’t care. It was even far from it. He just didn’t know what to do. He never talked about his personnal life with his dad and it wouldn’t be a first now. Specially not with these type of question. Max always assumed that his father only care about his racing career. It couldn’t be that bad if he wasn’t interested in his son’s couple. Right?
“I have to go” you told Max, who was lost on his thoughts. He enjoyed for the last few seconds to sight of you before you had to hung up. “Call me if you need, alright?” 
“Even if I don’t need it.” he laughed before letting you go.
Every time he had to say goodbye to you, on the phone or because you couldn’t follow him for the next race, Max felt a little hole in his heart. He never thought one day he’ll met someone that could complete him like you did. 
That’s all he thought about until he arrived at his dad’s place. All the thing he wanted to do with you before the new season starts, where he would take you during the holiday, which races you could be there and what places he wanted to show you during these weekend. More than just happiness for your couple, Max realised how important you were for his anxiety. Before he met you, most of the time he had to drive to see his father, he was anticipated all the bad things that could happen. The critics, the disapproval, the yelling if they really did disagree on something. And the worst part was that, in the end, he was just living the nightmare before it happened.
And maybe it was the fact he didn’t think about all these things before arriving, but Max felt good when he arrived.
“Uncle Maxie!” And being around his nephew was definitely a good help.
For many years, Max never consider having children. The anxiety he developped because of his own childhood was a perfect argument to avoid trying. How could he give a child what he needs if he doesn’t know himself what a kid should have? He knew what he shouldn’t do, that’s all.
But these past weeks, from seeing his nephews and calling them, he realized that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.
And maybe, you weren’t for nothing in this change of mind.
“You’re shinny, uncle Maxie.” 
“Shinny?” he laughed, still playing with the little cars that represent all the Formula one drivers.
“Yep. You’re happy.” 
Max didn’t know what to answer to that. But then he felt two hands on his shoulders and a kiss from Victoria on his hair. “He’s right.” He turned around to look at her. He guessed that the look she had was just another proof that indeed, he was lookier happier. “It’s for the toast, come.”
It was some kind of tradition. Everyone had to say what they were grateful for at the end of this year. Kids, health, career… each other always revolved around these subjects. Max was not going to break the circle. Not today.
“Well I’m grateful for the amazing year I spend. Winning the championship again was more than I could expect at the beginning of the season. So yeah I’m grateful for the team, for the work we did to win the races and create such amazing memories all together.” 
Max stopped for a few seconds, thinking about what he could be grateful for. There was one thing, obviously.
If he met his father’s eyes, he wouldn’t have continued. But he didn’t. He looked at Victoria and her massive smile. 
“And I’m grateful for my girlfriend. I couldn’t have go through this crazy year without her. She’s my rock, she’s my best friend, she’s without a doubt my soulmate and I’m glad I could finally found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Max heard all the lovely and loudly sound from his family. And before he could notice her, Victoria was already in his arms, telling him how proud she was that he finally found the happiness he deserved.
Again, he could have focus on the good thing, all the congratulations and excitement about this new family member that they all couldn’t wait to meet. But this time, Max did saw Jos look on him. One that he sadly knew by heart: disappointment. 
At first, Max decided to ignore the situation and spend most of the evening playing with his nephews, pretending to be a car himself to drive them around the house. But he couldn’t escape the heavy atmosphere forever.
Max saw that Jos was sitting by himself in the living room, with a whisky in his hand. He hesitated, did he really wanted to break all the good vibes for a talk for his dad? And then again, he was too nice to avoid him. No matter if he knew he would end this conversation with some broken feelings, Max couldn’t escape it. Because if there was one thing he was sure about, it was that he never wanted to become like his father. A man that would rather ignore the people he love for the sake of disappointment. Silence was never the solution.
“So, how do we feel about new season?” Max asked, sitting next to him. If there was one subject they couldn’t really argue about was his career. Or at least, even if there was some disagreement, it wouldn’t end up badly.
“You have to leave her.” It was simple. Five words. Said with a hard tone. Like an order. “You’re already losing your man over that…stupid girl. You can’t let yourself fail for a woman, Max.”
Maybe he should have gone with the swerve, in the end. “What do you mean? I’ve been with her for a year and I still won.” He could have, maybe, understand if the season was a pure fail. But it wasn’t. The car was amazing and he won almost every races. There was not single doubt that not only you weren’t a burden but you were a motivation for him. It didn’t make sense. But still, Max knew where all of this came from. Because he knew his father.
“A woman is always a burden in a career.” 
“This is why you got married thrice?” It left his mouth without Max had time to notice it. Truth is, he got tired as he grow older of the need to think about his words. What could he say what he mean to his dad? Why should he still be afraid? “Trust me, you terrible at giving relationship advices.” 
“You should watch your mouth.” Jos replied, taking a stew towards his son. For many years, Max used to step back to avoid the confrontation. Not anymore.
Instead, he took at step towards too. “You should watch yours. I won that fucking championiship, again. And you can’t even congratulate me? All you think about is the woman that want to spend her life with me? Not you, me.”
He noticed the change, again, in Jos look. It was getting darker and darker, like his anger was taking over himself and he was close to not be able to contain himself. Usually, Max was scared of the moment he would explode. There was just one change in his mind. You.
Max could accept any criticism about his career or life choices, he didn’t care. It was his life. Sometimes he might be wrong and he could deal with his dad saying that he warned him. He was still young and could deal with some mistakes.
But there was one thing he could never let Jos critcize or give his opinion on it: you.
“I won’t let you ruin your career for some stupid woman.” Jos got the time to grab his wrist. Max hated feeling like a child, all over again. Looking for his dad approval. 
Expect that this time, he didn’t want it. “Fine. It’s my career. I don’t need your opinion.” he managed to free himself and was already leaving the room. He couldn’t continue this without letting it become some shit show. No matter the situation, his family didn’t deserve it. Specially not on Christmas eve. 
“If you don’t leave her, then i’m not supporting you anymore.” 
Max stopped in the middle of the room. He heard the sound of a glass falling in the kitchen sink. He heard the sudden silence in the children’s playroom. This was the results of year of fighting for Jos seeing him as an equal, as a real driver and not a child who wants to grow older and be consider an adult. This was the results of feeling like his dad loved him.
Max was hurt. But he couldn’t fight anymore. “Fine.” he didn’t turn around, didn’t want to look at his father. It wasn’t the idea of seeing him. It was the idea of Jos seeing how bad he broke him, again. “I’ll do better without you.” 
The silence was still everywhere when Max walked to his sister to kiss her and said goodbye to his nephew. It was for the better, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to fight if they asked him to stay. But Victoria knew his brother, and what he deserves was to be in a place where he felt loved. 
And there was one where he knew he would never be ignored and rejected.
When you opened the door, you imagined different scenarios. But never one where you would see Max on your doorstep. “Baby?” you asked with confusion, almost like you were sure he was real.
“I’m sorry, I should have called, I know i wasn’t invited but…” he didn’t need to continue. Because you recognized the look in his eyes. One you sadly saw before. When he argued with his dad on the circuit and you couldn’t do anything than holding him in your arms. Telling me it would get better. That he wasn’t alone.
That was the only truth Max needed. He was far from being alone.
So you offered your hand to him. “Come in baby.” you noticed the little hesitation in his look, on that sadden you. It wasn’t that Max didn’t want to come in. It was a pur fear of opening his heart to you and losing you after. It didn’t last long, because he knew deep down that you were here to stay. But you were scared that this was a kind of thought that would never leave his mind.
You gave him a small and simple kiss on the lips, a kind of silent promise that you were supporting him. It wasn’t much, but it was more than Max even asked for. He was so not used of being understood and loved, this simple attention was enough to light up his heart again.
“Sweetie, who’s th… Oh Max! What a lovely surprise!” 
You were interrupted by your dad who almost push you away to take Max in his arms. You weren’t surprised. First, because your dad was a very lovely and tactile person who couldn’t resist this type of greeting. Second, because he appreciated Max so much, he was probably the one praying every day for a wedding. Third, because he had been asking you all night why you didn’t bring him. 
But Max, on the contrary, was more than surprised by that. Was he really that happy to see him? “Come in, you’re getting cold. Did you eat? We have…” you didn’t even hear the rest of the sentence that your dad had already pulled Max to the living room. Your boyfriend just had the time to turn around and give you a curious look. To which you replied with a smile. It felt right to see him being appreciated and treated like he should.
All your family spend the night talking to him, asking questions and making him feel like he was home. That was the truth, actually: this place was also a home for him. It was yours. And your family already considered him as a part of it. There was no reason for Max to not be a full member. 
It wasn’t until you got to bed, in your bedroom, that he let his mind speak. You were laying on his chest while he was looking at the ceiling and caressing your hair. It was relaxing for both of you to stay in silence after the crazy night you had. 
“I’ve felt much more at home here in a few hours than in all my life with my dad.” Max said slowly, in a whisper.
You turned your head just enough to look at him while he was still focused on his thoughts. You were making a whole speech in your head to make him feel better. You had no idea how he felt about this. This must be such a strange situation to feel more loved by your family-in-law than your own. 
But then he put a kiss on your hair and started to smile. “Thank you.” he whispered, like he was scared to be heard by anyone else. “For finding me and for loving me.”
You could feel your heart melt at this confession. “Thank you for opening your heart to me.” you replied. 
And you stayed like that for a good minute before you made a debrief of the whole evening here. When you both fell asleep, you realised you had the greatest gift you could ever dream of. Happiness in the arms of your loved one.
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rex101111 · 9 months
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Things that happen within the first few hours of AC6:
1. You get shot with a huge-ass laser mid-atmosphere entry. You barely survive this, landing several miles away from your intended landing zone.  Welcome to Rubicon 3.
2. You have a mech built with bargain bin parts, barely held together with hope and spite. It has a energy sword though, so that’s nice.
3. Not even two seconds after your, very rough, landing, you get a call from your “Handler”. He is ostensibly in charge of your well-being. This begins and ends with him sending you off on missions he’s fairly certain you’ll survive and charges you for the damage you get to your mech, the bullets you use, and he’s also cut out a piece of your brain to put in augmentations that will make you a slightly better mech pilot. In the top Most Horrible People On This Planet contest, he wouldn’t make it to the top 10.
4. You make your way through a derelict hunk of junk that’s threatening to collapse on top of you. Not even two minutes into this journey, you’re getting shot at with missiles. 
5. You finally reach your intended destination, a burning husk of a city filled with scavengers and low lives who will shoot you on sight. You are here to grave rob.
6. The reason you are grave robbing is connected to the fact you got shot in orbit, you are here illegally, and you need to find a license from any fresh corpse so you can steal the identity on it and be able to do mercenary work.
7. You go through four corpses before you find one with a license that can pass muster.
8. Mid corpse robbing a gunship sent by The Space Police spots you and you have to shot it down so it can’t kill you or, even worse, stop you from stealing the identity you just found. 
9. As soon as you get registered in the Mercenary Rolodex, which takes less then a second of an A.I taking a look and saying “alright checks out”, you have two missions. One of them has you killing a bunch of resistance fighters from the planet’s native population on behalf of a weapons company that really wants to do business here. 10. The next mission has you going to a base owned by that very same company and blowing up everything you can find there. This does not anger that company one bit, if anything it just convinces them you are a very thorough worker. 11. Very shortly after that, you are tasked with destroying a prototype mech by another company before it can get into mass production. That mech is being piloted by what can only be described as an Anime Protag who is in the worst possible franchise for his type of character. You can murder him in less then two minutes if you know what you’re doing. You can hear him desperately fight for his life the entire time. 12. After that, before you even get to clean the blood and oil and broken dreams off your robot, you get a call from a merc group leader saying that he’s seen you murder that guy real good, a guy who was auditioning to join his group, and likes the cut of your jib. He gives you the callsign he was gonna give Anime Protag before you blew him the fuck up. He laughs and tells you to be careful since it’s an unlucky number. This is the least morally repugnant thing you’ll do all game.   
13. A while after that, you go into a power plant and destroy the generator, it promptly blasts you in the face with the red radioactive Super Fuel that toasted this planet a few years back.
14. You survive, somehow, and you get a disembodied voice of some girl in your ear. You tell your handler about this and he just shrugs it off with “oh yeah that’s probably a symptom of the lobotomy, don’t worry about it”. The voice is probably the most moral person on this fire blasted hell scape of a planet.
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baptismbaby · 8 months
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† GOD, FORGIVE ME
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mean!ellie williams x innocent!reader a/n: i also posted this on my ao3: baptismsbaby warnings: reader is an extremely innocent christian girl, blaspheming, corruption, drug dealer!ellie, petnames (pup is used in case anyone doesn't like that), fingering (r! receiving), belittling, toxic!ellie, oral (r!receiving), virgin!reader
creds to elliesgalaxy on pinterest for the picture of ellie.
wc: 5.2k<3 part two here
You breathed a sigh of relief as you entered the gates of Jackson on your horse. You had just finished up patrol and was ready to collapse in your bed. You looked over at Dina and smiled. “Man, I’m happy to be home.”
“Me too,” Dina agreed with a laugh. “Things got too intense out there.”
“Yeah, luckily I was there to save your life.”
Dina scoffed. “Oh, shut up. I had it but of course, you had to show off.”
You hopped off your horse and led it to the stables, passing it off to the man on duty. “Here she is,” you said. “Get your rest, Ginger!”
Dina said goodbye to Japan, running to catch up with you. “Hey, I forgot to mention but Jesse said he wanted to throw a party tonight. It’ll be small, not too many people at all.”
You raised an eyebrow. “A party? Really?”
“Yeah, it’ll be fun! Jesse and his friends got some liquor and cups from Seth. Perfect timing too since everyone has the weekend off.”
“Dina,” you began. But before you could continue, Dina cut you off.
“I’m not saying you have to drink with us! I know you’re a good little Christian girl,” she joked.
You frowned. “Hey, that’s not nice.”
“Please come,” she begged. “It wouldn’t be fun without you.”
“What exactly do I bring to the table? It’s not like I can do anything,” you said. 
Dina stepped in front of you and placed her hands on your arms to stop you. “Listen, just please come and stay for at least half an hour. If you want to leave, you can. I won’t stop you or try to convince you to stay. I wanna have a good time with my friends and you’re one of my favorites. Please don’t let me suffer with all of Jesse’s friends. They’re… too male, almost.”
You sighed in defeat. “Ugh, fine! I’ll go if you really want me to.”
Dina clapped her hands in excitement. “Good! Come, I have some clothes you can borrow that’ll look real nice on you.”
You groaned as Dina pulled you by your hand, taking you to her place. She couldn’t contain how happy she felt. You never came to parties with her. They were rare and usually happened once every couple of months. Usually, you wouldn’t give in to Dina’s begging. You would just go home, curl up with a book and fall asleep before the party even began. Dina would come over the next day to tell you all the “sinful” things that went on. You didn’t understand what half of the things she said even meant, you were far too sheltered growing up and focused on reading the Bible most of the time.
“Who’s all gonna be there?” you asked as you walked inside her house.
“Well, I know Jesse’s whole group of friends are coming. Then there’s you, me, and…” she trailed off, looking away. You tilted your head to try and catch her attention. She fought hard not to look your way but you still kept trying to make eye contact until she finally looked at you. “Ellie,” she almost whispered. You sneered at the mention of the Williams girl.
“Ugh, I should’ve known,” you murmured. “Of course Ellie would be there.”
“Seriously, why do you two bicker so much?” Dina asked. “It’s like watching two kids fight over a toy. Or… really, more so like watching someone yell at a puppy for no reason.”
Your face fell. “Oh no… am I the puppy Dina? Please, don’t say I’m the puppy.”
Dina bit her lip and shrugged. “I mean… your comebacks are… something else.”
“What? Are you saying I can’t be mean?”
Dina couldn’t hide the smile growing on her face as she tried not to laugh. “You once said ‘bless your heart’ and that you’d pray for her.”
You scoffed as she broke into fits of laughter. “Hey, ‘bless your heart’ is the worst insult to receive where I come from! Sorry I felt bad afterwards and told her I’d pray for her!”
“Oh, I’m just messing. It’ll be alright. I’ll tell Ellie to cool it. I honestly don’t think she means anything by it. You’re just easy to tease,” Dina said as she made way to her closet. She pulled out a black longsleeve and extremely short shorts. “Here, wear this.”
You made a face at the outfit. “Is that not a bit… much?”
“Loosen up a bit! I think it’ll look real nice on your figure. Make the girlies pop out a little,” she said with a wink. 
You undressed and put the outfit Dina gave you on. She was right but left out the fact that the shorts revealed too much, your ass practically hanging out. The shirt fell just above your belly button. Dina gawked at the sight of you. “Hey, you should dress slutty more often.”
You couldn’t help but to admire yourself in the mirror. You were big on dressing as modest and comfortable as possible. You didn’t realize you had curves until now. “Wow… I think I kinda like this?”
“What can I say, I’m a genius,” bragged Dina.
-
You and Dina arrived at the party an hour later. Jesse opened the door and stopped in his tracks. Dina grinned. “I know right?”
Jesse looked you up and down then back at Dina. “Wow, I’m impressed,” he said, complimenting the both of you. “Come in.”
As you walked in, everyone stopped and stared. “Holy shit, you clean up nice!” one of the boys exclaimed. You shifted and looked down at the ground, too anxious to look at anyone. You were way out of your comfort zone but a part of you sort of enjoyed it. Your eyes wandered over to the couch where Ellie sat. She was rolling a joint, paying no mind to you. 
Dina walked over to her and leaned to whisper something in her ear. You stood there, watching Ellie’s face twist in disgust. You tried reading her lips, it looked like she said your name followed by the word “sensitive.” Dina smacked Ellie’s shoulder. Ellie began searching around the room until her eyes landed on you. Her eyebrows went up before turning to Dina. You couldn’t see her lips anymore but saw a smirk grow on Dina’s face.
Everyone took a shot and headed towards the couch. You followed, sitting on the ground next to Dina. You were kinda mad that to your right was Ellie, who now sat on the edge of the couch so the guys could sit next to her. She was so close that you could smell the soap she used. Ellie looked down at you, holding the joint out. Before you could decline, she passed it to the guy sitting next to her instead. “Shit, I forgot,” she said. “You’re too good to smoke.”
You glared at her smug face. “I don’t think I’m too good to smoke.”
“Well, you’re too good to drink.”
She reached over to grab an unopened bottle from the table. She grabbed two glasses and poured the liquor into each one. “I’m not too good to drink either!” you exclaimed, defending yourself.
Ellie chuckled. “Right,” she muttered. She went to grab the shot but you grabbed it first, downing it quickly. You coughed as it burned your throat.
“Woah,” Ellie blurted out sarcastically. “You took one shot, cool.”
You grabbed the other glass angrily and downed it too, slamming it back down on the table. 
“Jesus!” said Dina, grabbing your shoulder. “Take it slow, you don’t wanna get sick.”
At this point, the joint had reached Dina. She passed it to you to pass over to Ellie but you took a hit instead. You inhaled the smoke deeply and blew it out without coughing. You handed it to Ellie who had a playful smirk on her face. “Wow, I think I’m actually impressed.”
“Whatever,” you uttered, standing up to leave the circle. You went into the kitchen to take another shot. For some reason, you felt you had to prove to Ellie that you weren’t just a goody two shoes and that you could have fun. You knew that in order for the Jackson dealer to take you seriously, you would have to commit. 
After a couple shots, you slightly stumbled back to the circle. Dina looked concerned until you giggled. “Oh, boy. This is great,” you slurred, your eyes heavy from the weed. Dina laughed and wrapped an arm around you. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for you to let loose!”
You looked up at Ellie, who was looking further down than your face with furrowed brows. She looked back up and quickly turned away. “Lightweight,” she said.
“Oh, shut it, Ellie,” you snapped. “Just for a second could you please just shut up!”
Ellie laughed. “Good Christian girl suddenly thinks she’s the shit all cause she took a hit off a blunt and a couple shots.”
Everyone groaned, tired of the constant arguing between the two. Every time they were in a room with them, Ellie would make fun of you until you couldn’t take anymore and left. They knew Ellie wasn’t fully serious, she liked picking on you because she thought it was hilarious that you couldn’t take a joke. But part of her started to despise you without her knowledge. Everyone loved you. You were sweet and would pray with anyone who wanted to pray. You would give back to the community and greet everyone who walked past you. Ellie thought it was all an act and grew tired of it.
You, on the other hand, never liked Ellie. She was a dealer who spent all of her free time smoking pot and sleeping around. You didn’t think that was any way to live. You hated the influence Ellie had on your friends. Everyone thought she was funny. You couldn’t understand why.
“Let’s play never have I ever!” Dina suggested, an attempt to break the silence and to lessen the tension that built up in the room. Everyone agreed and put all ten of their fingers up. You followed along, waiting for someone to start.
“Okay,” Dina started. “Loser has to go streaking.”
Everyone cheered. You frowned, unsure if you still wanted to play. “But!” said Dina, causing everyone to be quiet. “Usually, you’re out if you put all your fingers down. But… whoever is left with the most fingers up is the loser.”
You nudged Dina, giving her a look. “You know I’m gonna lose,” you whispered. Dina shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Just lie.” 
“I’ll start,” said Jesse. “Never have I ever… made out with someone on patrol.”
Everyone put their fingers down except you.
“Never have I ever… had sex during patrol,” Dina said. Almost everyone put their finger down. They looked at you, waiting for you to say something. You decided to take Dina’s advice and start lying to avoid being the loser.
“Never have I ever snuck out.”
You put a finger down along with everyone else. Ellie scoffed. “Yeah sure,” she muttered. “Never have I ever had sex.”
You put a finger down, knowing that wasn’t true. Ellie kicked your knee lightly. “Wow, you’re getting some? Tell me, who?”
You looked over at Dina, your eyes wide as you tried to come up with a lie. Some girl who passed through Jackson? Some girl you met before Jackson? Your head started to hurt trying to come up with an excuse.
“Who?” Ellie asked again. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Girl,” Dina corrected. “She’s not attracted to men.”
You nodded, not really caring that Dina had outed you. You knew that you were surrounded by people who wouldn’t judge. Except for Ellie, even though she wasn’t straight herself.
Ellie looked genuinely shocked. “Really? Who’s the girl?”
You shrugged. “I’m not gonna name drop.”
“Because this girl isn’t real,” said Ellie. “Lying is a sin. You would know. You just don’t want to be the loser.” 
“Hey, it’s not fair to lie,” one of Jesse’s friends complained. Suddenly, everyone started whining about how it was against the rules. Either you say who it was or admit that you’re lying. You felt heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment. Ellie was grinning but it went away when she saw tears in your eyes.
“I’m teasing, man. Chill… don’t be a crybaby about it.”
“Fuck you, Ellie,” you spat out. A few people gasped, including Dina. She turned to Jesse, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt guilty for suggesting to play the game and for telling Ellie to be nice. Dina realized it just made her pick on you even more. 
Ellie wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t mad but she wasn’t feeling good about the situation either.
“You’re a real piece of shit,” you continued. “Always throwing religion in my face, being mean, just… why? Why target me? I’ve always been nice to you even though I have never, ever liked you! So, fuck you, Ellie!” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I knew better. I shouldn’t have come here when I found out you were gonna be here too. Just give it a rest, Ellie. Grow up!”
You stood up and brushed your shorts off. You faced your friends who all sat back quietly, avoiding your gaze. “Sorry for ruining your fun, guys.”
You stormed up the stairs and into one of the spare bedrooms. You collapsed on the bed, your head spinning. You felt awful for how you reacted but felt she deserved it. You were worried you ruined the party until you heard music along with everyone singing loudly. 
You heard a knock on the door. You got up, cracking it open. You were expecting Dina but felt your stomach drop when you saw Ellie. You tried to shut the door but Ellie stopped it with her hand, shoving her way inside and slamming the door shut and locking it. “I’m not here to bitch at you, I want to talk to you.”
“You really want to make things worse?”
“You’re right. I am a piece of shit,” Ellie hissed. “I know I go too far teasing you but you take everything seriously!”
“You don’t know me, Ellie,” you mumbled, too afraid to speak up in case your voice cracked. “I won’t lie and say that I ever cared for you. I don’t like the way you choose to live your life but I still was kind to you. You never gave me a chance.”
“Because you act like you’re better than everyone!”
“How?” you shouted. “All I want is to make friends with everyone, spread a little peace and love in this shitty world! It’s comforting to me, Ellie! I don’t think I’m better than you or anybody. I enjoy making others happy and you enjoy making people miserable. Actually, just me. Because I have never seen you do this to others. You hate me and I wish you didn’t! I hear how Dina talks about you and I see how you laugh with your friends and I’m jealous. I know I could’ve liked you had you been friendly with me. Because I was angry at myself for judging you so quickly. It was wrong of me. But of course, I was right!”
You turned away from Ellie and sat down on the bed, your arms crossed over your chest. “I felt I had to prove that I’m cool,” you continued. “I thought you would stop for just one night if you saw how cool I can be.”
“You want the truth?” Ellie asked.
“You’re always truthful. So, I might as well say yes even if I don’t really give a shit.”
“I meant it when I said I was impressed earlier.”
You scoffed. “Sure.”
“I can’t even take two shots back to back like that.”
“Stop teasing, Ellie. I am convinced that being torn apart by infected is less stressful than dealing with you.”
“Just shut the fuck up and let me talk, okay? I’m leading into something.”
You flinched at her raised voice, slowly looking up to see her facial expression harden. 
“I’m jealous of you,” she admitted. “I’m jealous that you can still believe in something and that you still care when everything is so fucked!”
You stood up, walking towards Ellie as she spoke. “I’d give anything, anything, to be that way. I had bitter feelings towards you. I think I wanted to tear you down so you wouldn’t be so… sweet. Giving, caring, everything I never could be.”
You watched her face closely, trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. 
“I fuck girls like you and ignore them so they can hurt. Maybe I want the world to suffer with me,” said Ellie. “But I couldn’t do that to you. You’re too… good. I had to find another way.”
You paused as you connected what she said together. “Wait, you wanna…?” you trailed off, too shy to say it.
Ellie scratched her neck awkwardly. “Well, I did… but you’d never do that.”
“I might have,” you said, almost feeling ashamed of how bold you were being. You never would have thought this sober but Ellie was really pretty. If the circumstances were different, you knew that she would be your type. 
Ellie was taken aback by your statement.
“What?” Ellie questioned.
“Not now, since I know you would’ve ignored me.”
Ellie stepped closer to you, eyeing your body up and down. She thought you looked good tonight and couldn’t help but to peek at your tits when you weren’t paying attention, or your ass when you were turned away. 
“I… know I would’ve back then,” Ellie whispered, getting even closer to you. She stood above you, watching as your face turned red. Your heart sped up. You wondered why your panties started to feel a bit wet at the sight of Ellie looking down at you. You usually never got turned on. Ellie was right, you were just a good Christian girl who didn’t do anything. You never even tried touching yourself. Since you were breaking the rules now, you thought maybe you could break some more and pray for forgiveness later.
“I’m not so sure now,” Ellie continued, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I never knew you were hiding that under all those baggy clothes.”
“A-Are you saying that in a bad way?”
Ellie shook her head. “When I first saw you earlier, I told Dina I kinda wanted to fuck you.”
Your breath hitched. “What did… Dina say?”
“That if I was nicer,” she said, stepping closer so there was almost no space left between your bodies. “I just might get to.”
Ellie caressed your cheek slowly. “Am I nice enough now, pretty girl?”
Your panties were soaked at this point. Your body trembled, afraid that you wouldn’t know what to do since it was your first time. Even though ten minutes ago you didn’t like the girl, you suddenly wanted nothing more than to be underneath her.
“I really… was lying earlier,” you mumbled.
“I know you were.”
“You don’t care that I’ve never… had sex before?”
Ellie smirked. “I’m glad you’ve never been fucked before. I want to be the one who corrupts you. I want everybody who fucks you after me to be a disappointment so you come crawling back. You’ll never find better than me, not even your own hand.”
Ellie leaned down, her lips brushing against yours. You pulled away to speak. “I don’t even do that…”
Ellie chuckled. “Really? Little church girl don’t know how to please herself?”
Usually, you would get mad at Ellie for saying stuff like that. Now, her insults just made you throb even more. 
“Have you even kissed before?”
You bit your lip shyly and shrugged. “Not… really. When I was 13, a boy tried kissing me and I didn’t kiss back.”
“Aw, poor pup,” Ellie teased, running her fingers on the exposed skin of your tummy. “I get to teach you everything.”
Finally, Ellie collided her lips with yours. She was super gentle, placing her hand on your cheek and brushing it with her thumb. You melted in the kiss, pressing your thighs together to ease your aching cunt. The friction made it feel even better, causing you to release a soft moan into her mouth. Ellie pulled away, smirking at the noise you made. “I wanna hear more of that.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted. “I don’t know if I can do anything to make you feel good.”
“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”
You hesitated a bit before nodding. Of course you wanted that. You were just scared that you’d be bad at it since you had zero experience.
“Then let me fuck you. I get off to getting you off, understand?” asked Ellie. 
“Y-Yes.”
“Good girl,” Ellie praised. “Lay down, baby.”
You obeyed and laid down onto the bed. You watched as Ellie slowly took your boots off and dropped them onto the ground. “Lift your hips up for me?”
You lifted your hips and let Ellie pull your shorts off. Ellie bit her lip at the sight of your white cotton panties. She could see how soaked they were. “Look at that,” she breathed. You closed your legs to hide yourself but Ellie pulled them back open, holding your thighs down so you couldn’t move. “Filthy little girl,” she cooed. “What would God say about this?”
Your breathing started to grow heavier. “I-I don’t care what He would say,” you whined.
Ellie held back a moan that threatened to escape her lips. She pulled your panties off and threw them behind her.
“Fuck,” she groaned. “Your pussy is so pretty.”
She tugged at your shirt until you got the hint to raise up. She lifted the fabric over your head and dropped it on the floor. You were completely naked while Ellie was fully dressed. She rolled her sleeves up, her eyes never leaving yours. She crawled on top of you and started making out with you passionately. Without pulling away, she started to unbutton her jeans and took them off swiftly. She shoved her knee against your dripping cunt, eliciting a squeal from you. She placed her hands on your hips and guided them up and down so you were grinding on her.
“Just like that, baby. Good girl.���
You started to moan louder, Ellie covering your mouth and shushing you. “As much as I want to make you scream, you don’t want anyone to hear and interrupt us, do you?”
You shook your head no. “Will you be quiet for me?”
“Yes,” you whimper. 
Ellie pressed her knee harder on your pussy. You started to go faster, mewling and biting your lip to keep quiet.
“Such a good girl. You listen so well,” Ellie complimented. She took her knee away and brushed a finger up your slit. Your body jolted at the feeling. “You want me to taste you baby?”
“Please,” you almost cried out, desperate for whatever Ellie planned on doing to you. Ellie moaned at the sight of you squirming. She loved watching you unfold beneath her. To think she ever hated you was beyond her at this point. She wished she had done this sooner as she admired how beautiful you were. 
“Say it,” Ellie demanded. “Use your words, pup.”
“E-Ellie, please” you begged. “F-Fuck me.”
Ellie tutted, shaking her head no. “I plan on fucking you anyway. I want you to beg me to eat you out.”
You were confused. You’ve heard Dina say that Jesse would ‘eat her out’ but you weren’t sure what it really meant. Ellie saw the confusion on your face and laughed. “Wow, you’re too innocent.” 
You started to sit up but Ellie pushed you back down softly. “I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t mean it that way,” she apologized. “It’s okay that you don’t know what that means. I’ll show you baby. You want that?”
You nodded. “Yes, please show me.”
Ellie leaned down between your thighs and started peppering kisses all over them. You reached down to grip her hair as her lips got closer to your pussy. She flicked her tongue across your clit once and looked up at you. “Do you understand now, pup?”
“Mm, yes Ellie.”
She smirked. “You want me to continue?”
“Please?”
Ellie chuckled as she went back down to your dripping cunt, licking it all up and swallowing. She savored the taste of you, going back down for more. You grabbed the pillow beneath your head to put over your face in an attempt to muffle your moans.
Ellie stopped and yanked the pillow out of your hands. “They turned the music all the way up finally. You don’t have to be quiet anymore. I wanna hear how good I make you feel.”
Ellie pressed her tongue against your clit and went back and forth between a circular motion and flicking it. You nearly screamed from the pleasure, your hands grabbing Ellie’s hair to pull her closer. She moaned against you, speeding her tongue up. She brought a hand up to play with your nipple, squeezing and pulling on it. Ellie used her free hand to gently push one finger in. You yelped, yanking Ellie’s hair harder. She pulled away and licked her lips. “Too much baby?” she asked, out of breath. You shook your head no and pulled her back to keep going.
Ellie loved how tight you felt. The feeling of you gripping around her finger made her want to bend you over and fuck you with a strap. She wished the party was at her place so she could have used all the toys she had on you.
A feeling began to build up in your stomach as you trembled harder. “E-Ellie!” you moaned, bucking your hips upward as you got closer and closer to cumming.
“Come on, baby. That’s it. Be a good girl and cum for me.”
All of the sudden, your body began to convulse as your orgasm hit you hard. Ellie slowly fingered you, riding it out until you pulled away from her. She brought her finger up to your mouth, forcing it open and shoving it down your throat. You sucked on her finger with a moan.
“Such a good girl,” Ellie praised, elated with how quickly you catch on.
“Wow,” you mumbled, out of breath from all the noises you made. “Never in a million years did I think I’d lose my virginity to you.”
Ellie sent you a sly smile. “I never knew I’d take it.”
You raised up slightly, leaning against Ellie’s shoulder. “Are you still going to be mean to me?”
Ellie sighed. “No, baby. That’s all over now.” 
“Good. Do I put my clothes on now?”
“Why do you have to ask for my permission?” Ellie questioned with a laugh.
You giggled. “Well, I like… asking you.”
“Well, then no. I think I want to fingerfuck you some more. Can you take that?”
You froze, looking up at her with a fucked out expression. You were exhausted but didn’t want your time with Ellie to end. “Mhm, I think so.”
Ellie leaned back a bit and grabbed you. “Come lay in my lap, baby. Ass up.”
You complied and laid down, arching your back in excitement. Ellie rubbed her hand over your ass, squeezing tightly as you moaned. “Tell me, did you pray for me?”
Before you could ask what she meant by that, she shoved two fingers into your dripping cunt. You yelped as she fucked you with them slow and hard. “That one time when you got mad at me for making fun of you, you said you’d pray for me. Did you?”
Ellie sped her movements up as she went deeper inside you.
“Fuck!” you yelled out, trembling and kicking your feet at the feeling.
“Answer me, pup, or I’ll stop,” Ellie threatened.
“Yes!”
“Yes what, baby?”
“Yes! God, yes, I prayed for you!”
Ellie went even faster as you got closer to cumming again. “Atta girl, such a sweet pup. Praying for a sinner like me.”
“Ellie! Fuck! I-I prayed for you everyday!” you babbled, unable to speak without getting interrupted by your own sounds of pleasure.
“Yeah? Told God how bad you wanted me? Told Him all your dirty thoughts, you filthy slut?”
You moaned louder, bucking your hips up towards Ellie . “Yes!”
“You’re gonna ask for forgiveness, aren’t you? Like the good Christian girl you are.”
“Mm, yes, Ellie,” you whined, your orgasm about to take over you.
“Then ask, baby, ask.”
“God, forgive me please,” you said in between moans as you finally came undone for her. The force of you cumming shook your entire body and made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You couldn’t help but to repeat Ellie’s name until you started to come down, your body almost collapsing onto her lap. 
“Good girl.”
Ellie helped you up onto your feet, your legs shaking. “Let me help you get dressed,” she offered.
As Ellie helped you into your clothes, you couldn’t help but feel awful. “Ellie? Did I… make God mad at me?”
Ellie stopped, placing her hands on your shoulders and staring deep into your eyes. “Who could be mad at an angel like you?”
You blushed, removing yourself from her grip and tugging your shirt over your head. You put your shoes on next and sighed, looking up at Ellie with a tired smile. “Do we say anything?”
Ellie shook her head no, quickly fixing your hair so it wasn’t obvious what happened. “Just say we talked and you forgave me. I had one hell of an apology,” she uttered with a goofy grin. You laughed softly.
“So, you’re not gonna ignore me, right?”
Ellie wrapped her arms around you for a second before stepping back, eyeing you up and down while heading towards the door. Your heart stung, wondering if maybe Ellie didn’t mean what she said before. 
“Come by tomorrow night,” said Ellie as she turned the knob. “I’ll fuck you so good that you won’t question me again.”
Ellie left you standing there, your mouth open in shock. You waited a couple minutes before heading downstairs to the party.
“Hey,” you heard Dina call out to you. She grabbed your hand and looked at you with concern. “I shouldn’t have said anything to Ellie. It just made her worse. I begged her not to talk to you but-”
“Dina,” you interrupted. “She explained herself and I explained myself. We’re all good.”
Dina looked surprised. “What? Really? You forgave her?”
You looked behind Dina to see Ellie back on the couch, staring at you with a grin as she puffed on her joint. You smiled at Dina and nodded. “Of course I forgave her. Her apology was genuine and…”
“What did she say?” Dina pressed on.
You shrugged. “I can’t remember everything she said but it was one hell of an apology.”
2K notes · View notes
signedmio · 4 months
Note
I need drama. what if their s/o is an angel who is in hell "illegally". they decided to help Charlie after her visiting Heavens. they have wings and a halo, and can easily move between heaven and hell. One evening they hurriedly leave the hotel, saying that it was "a very important meeting up there. I need to come so they don't suspect anything" and that they would be back in a couple of hours. and fled away. they have been gone for few days. Arriving at the hotel at night, they accidentally run into a character, and let's just say, their s/o is not in the best condition. Everything is beaten and covered in blood, but the worst thing is that golden blood is flowing from their backs and their wings are missing. holding the injuries, where the blood comes from, barely standing on feet, they whisper with a smile "They found out everything. Very soon they will start an attack. I'm so sorry."
For Alastor, Husk and platonic!Charlie
WTFF THAT IS ACTUALLY SO COOL !!
but yes, I will write that for you, rn ;)
Although, due to the fact that this is a bit lengthy, I’m only gonna do Husk and platonic!Charlie (assuming you want them separate) So I hope that’s okay!! But I could always do an Alastor version in the future :)
(pssst… there will be a part 2… you didn’t hear it from me…)
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“Bad Little Angel” Pt. 1
Husk x Seraphim!Angel!Reader
Warnings: Swear words, S1E6 spoilers, alcohol mentions, use of (Y/N)
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“I can’t believe Lucifer’s little cunt thinks, not only, that she can bring sinners up here, but also bitch to my manager? Like just say you’re a slutty, lesbian Karen and move the fuck on.” Adam whined as he walked with Lute out of the courtroom, “I couldn’t agree more, sir.” Lute said with a nod, taking off her mask and shaking her hair slightly.
This wasn’t right, and you knew that. None of it. But you knew, you had to do something.
A true Angel wouldn’t continue to let human souls die off, whether they be Hellbound or not.
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“Sooo, how’d it go?” Lucifer asked enthusiastically as Charlie walked through the door, only for her to walk right past him, his face slightly falling as she did so, she fell face forward into one of the couches before mumbling some incoherent words into the pillow.
“Eh, wha?” Angel asked, as he turned to look at her from the bar, “Fine.” she mumbled, lifting her head up, simply to be audible, before slamming it back into the pillow. “Wow.” Angel remarked, before shutting up after Vaggie gave him the eyes.
Before more words could be exchanged there was a knock at the door, Charlie sluggishly walked to swing it open, and there you stood, one of the three Seraphim’s that were at the meeting, although it was hard to notice due to the white cloak that hung over your body and face.
“— Can I come in before we begin this? I just don’t want anyone to see me.” You said sheepishly, as Charlie stepped aside to let you in without uttering a word, slightly stunned by your presence.
You walked in, and neatly put your cloak on a nearby coatrack, your wings and hall now on display, and now it felt like everyone in the hotel had eyes on you…
Most of which you had either remembered from the meeting or the live video of ‘The Porn Demon’ — or as Lute said ‘Some crackwhore’
“Hello!” You said with a bashful wave. “I’m-”
“Smiles? What are you doing here?”
Smiles? Only people in Heaven called you that. You turn to see Vagi looking, almost confusion? Shock? Perhaps undecided for now.
“Ah yes, hi, Vagi-”
“It’s pronounced ‘Vaggie’”
“Oh. My apologies!”
Vaggie. Noted.
“As I was saying, I’m one of the Seraphims, Ms. Morningstar was in Heaven earlier this afternoon, and I must say, I’m invested in this hotel of yours.”
Charlie’s face lit up instantly, but you could feel the Porn Demon (for a lack of his name) and Vaggie eyeing you suspiciously.
“I… I know we’re different, but I really want to help, this whole hotel is about putting others together despite their differences, so, y’know.. well, I didn’t really think through what I was going to say before I came here.” You said, chuckling under your breath as you looked down bashfully and played with the tip of your shoe.
“Fine.” Vaggie said, before coming up to you, “But know everything is confidential, you don’t get to spill all our shit because you feel like it, I don’t care who’s in charge who’s telling you to do this, if you don’t follow our rules, you don’t get to be here.” Vaggie finished, looking to a deer-like demon, who has a big grin on his face as he comes up to you, and offers to shake his hand.
You hesitate, but shake it, a green light swirls around the room and flickers away the moment your and the deer’s hands lose contact.
You turn to Vaggie, your face serious about the promise just made, “You have yourself a deal.”
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“So this is Angel! You saw him from the video! That is Alastor, he’s the one you made the deal with! Ooh oh! And that’s Pentious and Niffty — Niffty’s the one cleaning, by the way!” Charlie said pointing to a small cyclops girl sweeping and a snake man who followed behind her — he seemed to be a.. you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it, but you settled with magician.
“That’s Husk, the bartender!” Charlie said with a point, and the cat man gave a small nod — now that was a magician, but if he was a magician, what the hell was the snake supposed to be? Eh, it doesn’t matter.
“And this is… Oh, well you already know Vaggie! From.. er…” Charlie trailed off, it was obvious she was referring to what Adam had announced in the courtroom.
“So is, ‘Smiles’ like your real name? ‘Cus I’ve never met a damn person in my whole afterlife who’d wanna be named that…well, maybe except for him.” Angel asked from the bar, gesturing to Alastor for his last reference.
“No no.” You said with a chuckle, approaching Angel slightly to talk to him more efficiently. “Smiles is a nickname that Vaggie knows me as from… past social circles..” You explained, trailing off, “But anywho, you can call me smiles, or (Y/N), whatever you want!”
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“You want a drink?” Husk asked, as he finished up cleaning Angel’s cup, as he just went to bed for the night, “No, I don’t drink.” you explained as Husker chuckled. “I just… never really got to know you.” You added.
“There’s only so much to know.” He said, “And didn’t Charlie say something about a ‘live video’ from that meeting? See, you know enough about me, new kid.”
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It had been about a week since you made it to the hotel, you had been in Heaven for about half of that time though, but everyone was nice so far!
Charlie was amazingly kind and understanding during shared planning periods, you were starting to build a friendship with Vaggie again, Angel was turning into your bestfriend, you loved the chaotic energy with Pentious and Niffty, Alastor was creepy…but he was okay, and Husk was so soothing and understanding — you have to admit, that maybe something a little special was going on.
It was late, you had just been out on a walk around the block with Husk and Angel, and you were in your peejays, ready to clock out, simply scrolling on your phone, you see a text pop up, and you click to view it.
Lute : There’s a meeting on Sunday. Don’t miss it.
A meeting? For what? We just had a meeting..
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“Is everything okay?” Charlie asked as you rushed to get your cloak and clip it below your chin. Angel, Vaggie, and Alastor also watched you scramble around the lobby of the hotel.
“Look, Heaven really needs me, and I need to leave now if I wanna make it there when I need to, I’ll be back, I promise.” You explained quickly and sternly, Charlie and Angel exchanged concerned looks, Vaggie looked a bit suspicious and you couldn’t help but feel awful, and Alastor had his signature grin.
“You’ll be back, right?” Charlie asks with a hopeful smile.
You hesitate to answer, but give a smile back to her that has the same hope within your eyes, “Of course.”
And then, you flew off.
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617 notes · View notes
lisired · 3 months
Text
who needs cupid’s bow?
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pairing: bff!haechan x (f) reader
genre/warnings: bff2l, suggestive, lots of sexual innuedos but no smut, fluff, a teaspoon of angst, mc & hc are oblivious to each other’s feelings and jaemin calls them out on their bullshit, mutual pining
summary: Cupid is not on your side, it seems. He’s made you fall in love with the worst possible person ever, AKA your best friend, AKA the man who still eats tootsie-pops—willingly. And frankly, it feels like the damn candy has a better chance of dating him than you ever will.
word count: 11.1k
a/n: inspired by down for you by kehlani, boyfriend by ariana grande, and serial lover by kehlani. another oldie but i kinda like it… kinda. as always, feedback is appreciated!
It’s safe to say that Cupid is your mortal enemy (Or immortal—whatever. Nonetheless, you aren’t the biggest fan of him.)
You don’t know why, but for some inexplicable reason, he always makes you fall in love with the wrong people. Such as Lee Taeyong from eighth grade, or your failed relationship with Kim Jisoo from your biology class in high school — a pretty girl, but you were as compatible as Mentos and Coca-Cola. Hell, there was even Jung Sungchan from senior year, who you naturally drifted away from during an exam period. They’re all chapters in your book now, but you’re currently stuck on the one about your best friend, Lee Haechan.
It seems like you’re Cupid’s mortal enemy, too. You and Haechan are always side by side, down one another’s throats, there’s no way his arrow could have hit you and missed Haechan.
Perhaps, it’s a hole you dug yourself in. Via mutual friends, when you were seventeen, you met Lee Haechan — jock, senior, and the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. There was an instant connection between you two, all it took was a convo at a party about coincidentally both failing the same math exam, and you quickly became friends and close enough to pour out your heart into little rants whenever there was something personal bothering either of you, and you needed an outlet. You liked him because he understood you. He was patient witth you. You see, you aren’t the best at communicating how you feel, and he never makes you feel bad about it.
You remember breaking up with your then-boyfriend, Jung Sungchan, and while you weren’t heartbroken since you saw it coming and all the love had evaporated by then, you were devastated that you no longer had someone to kiss. That being your main concern made Haechan laugh. He thought it was the most you thing ever.
“Can I kiss you, then?” you asked, a little grin on your face, although you were very serious. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, kissing your best friend. He has pretty lips, and it isn’t like it’ll mean anything, you think. It’s just one kiss.
Haechan scoffed, biting off the last remaining piece of his Tootsie Pop off the stick. You’re kidding, he thinks. Why would you seriously want to kiss him? And after breaking up with your now ex-boyfriend? The wound’s still fresh. “You wouldn’t dare.”
To Haechan’s surprise, you dared.
He tasted like chocolate, exactly like a Tootsie Pop, as expected of him. You didn’t mind, though. You never do. It was fun, you liked the way Haechan held you in his lap and kissed you back with fierceness, and he still kisses you with that same passion, like there’s no tomorrow.
And that’s the problem.
Fast-forward four years later, you’re still best friends with Lee Haechan, only this time you’re in college, and have the fattest, most gigantic crush on him. Somewhere along the way, those lines between love and friendship were blurred. It’s impossible to pinpoint when, but you fell deep and hard for your best friend.
And the worst part? You doubt he’ll ever reciprocate those feelings.
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One kiss turned into more than you can count on your fingers and toes.
Should you continue making out with your best friend who doesn’t reciprocate your romantic interest in him? Probably not.
Are you still going to, though? Absolutely.
“Y/n, I’m going to kill you,” Haechan states as he stumps inside the dining room. His hair is tussled since he’s just waken up from a nap, but you like this raw side of him. He looks gorgeous, and despite him basically threatening to murder you you still want to kiss him.
“Romantic,” you deadpan, training your eyes back on your laptop. It takes everything in you not to stare, but if you want to keep your feelings low-key, you need to follow a couple of rules.
“I know you took my Tootsie Pop. Where is it?”
You smirk a little, but it quickly fades into a line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Okay, so maybe that’s a lie, and you both know it. You aren’t the only other person in the house, but Jungwoo, Haechan’s stepbrother, is asleep and wouldn’t cut his nap time short to do something as stupid as stealing the last of his brother’s favorite candy. That leaves you. As his best friend, you’re the first person to know Haechan turns murderous over those stupid lollipops, and that he’s the last person to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie-Pop. In your personal opinion, they’re not even that good. But he’s loved them ever since you’ve known him.
“We’re best friends, y/n. I know when you’re lying,” he remarks, and doesn’t give you the chance to answer before he persists, “where is it?”
There’s only one way out of this.
Run.
Haechan follows almost automatically, and in spite of being barely awake he obviously has the upper hand because he’s always leaned more towards the sport-y side. This doesn’t deter you though, because you have a getaway plan.
In your attempt to somehow outrun a man that used to do track and field, you make a beeline for the backyard door. He’s not going to outrun you in the grass in slippers, you think as you turn to see if he’s caught up on you. You’re in the lead, albeit barely, with your body almost being in arms reach. You try to pick up your speed, and once you reach the door you hurry to turn the knob. Except, there’s one, itty-bitty problem.
The door is fucking locked.
And you already know you won’t have time to open it, so you cave in to defeat, whirling around with your hands up in a surrendering pose. Your plan’s backfired; you’ve been caught.
“Oh, I’ve got you now,” Haechan says cockily. He has you—hook, line, and sinker, and at this point you aren’t even upset. You can’t be upset. His eyes are on you, and his body is close to yours, dangerously so.
“Okay, you win. Happy?” You mumur.
“Not until I get my Tootsie Pop back,” he shakes his head, “now where is it?”
Smiling, you shrug. Of course, you know where the candy is, but he’s either going to have to win or pry the answer out of you.
Then, he steps even closer, and your heart starts pounding in your chest twenty times faster than your feet were against the hardwood. This isn’t your first rodeo, you’ve made out with your best friend countless times, yet the anticipation gives you a rush, like you’ve never done this before. It makes you feel like a teenager in love all over again — seventeen, young and head over heels in love with the man closest to you.
He’s back you into the door, and you can’t keep your eyes off his lips. Beautiful, plush, soft, and your eyes flutter shut as you prepare to feel the same skilled pair against your own, closer, and closer, and closer—
Crunch.
“I fucking knew it!” Haechan yells, jolting your eyes open. You aren’t even given the opportunity to register the situation before his hands are digging into your back pocket, retrieving his fortunately unharmed Tootsie Pop.
It feels like he’s gone before you can even blink, and realizing he’s slipped back into the hall, you begin to follow him into his room. “Hey!” you yell, and he doesn’t say anything, just looking up at you from his gaming chair with that damn candy hanging from his mouth, “why didn’t you kiss me?”
“Why’d you steal my Tootsie Pop?”
Okay, that was stupid, yes, but there was a particular goal in mind which was reached, even if for a short-lived moment.
You frown, “I wanted your attention.”
Haechan shakes his head, laughing. “C’mere.”
Somehow, those words never fail, making you melt and slip into his lap effortlessly every time. You’re like Jell-O to his voice, to his touch, to his whole. You’re a goner, some would say, and a part of you is alright with never coming back if it means you get to feel all the weird, Cupid-y emotions he makes you feel.
At this point, you don’t think you’ll ever stop kissing Haechan. In the time that you’ve been together, you’ve both been in relationships, hence putting the make out sessions on hiatus. They were never really long though, because you’d break up with them and inevitably find your way back to one another in the end.
His fingers guide your chin up, and once more your eyes flutter shut as his lips unite with yours. Haechan kisses in a manner that contrasts with the soft feeling of his lips. He always starts off gentle, but there’s a hunger that overcomes him as he stands up and pushes you against his desk, rough yet graceful and holding you so firmly, like you’re glass, but he wants to break you. And when he shatters you into all those tiny pieces, you don’t care. You want him to glue you back together and do it all over again. He’s intoxicating, he’s an addictive drug, but he tastes like candy, and you can’t stop coming back to him. He feels like home, the place where you belong. The place where you can be one-hundred percent, authentically you, safe and whole, more than the general perception than you. And fuck, does he kiss like the damn devil himself.
You were silly for ever believing it would only be one kiss.
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Jungwoo thinks that for people who are trying to keep their not-so relationship-y relationship under wraps, you two are very loud.
Speaking of which, and despite the nature of your relationship, you and Haechan haven’t even discussed your label. You know that you aren’t friends with benefits—you haven’t crossed that line, but to be honest, those lines have been starting to look blurry for a while—but you also aren’t in a relationship. You see other people, you fuck other people, and when other people ask if you’re dating, you both deny it immediately. You’re just best friends, you both say each time like some rehearsed line, even if it breaks your heart to hear him friendzone you.
Karina and Mark even have an ongoing bet about you two. Karina is one-hundred positive there’s something going on, whereas Mark is probably the only person in the world that wants to give you guys the benefit of the doubt.
“For heaven’s sake, I can’t get any type of sleep around here,” Jungwoo rasps, leaning against the doorframe, “I really hope you guys don’t do this shit when Dohwan’s here.”
His judgmental eyes practically bore into your soul, and you thank heaven that you don’t have to worry about keeping this secret from Jungwoo, even if he would probably appreciate it more if you did. He finds you in a rather interesting position, straddling Haechan’s lap as you press kisses into his collarbone.
It’s all Haechan’s fault, really. Three years ago, Jungwoo made the mistake of walking inside Haechan’s bedroom without knocking, accidentally finding you two making out in a very touchy way on his bed because a certain someone didn’t think to lock the door. Not only did you ruin his quote-unquote innocence, but his perception of you forever, and ever since that ordeal, Jungwoo has never opened his stepbrother’s door without knocking. This time, it just so happened to be wide-open.
You bite your lip, feeling bad. Kim Dohwan is Haechan’s halfbrother of whom he babysits whenever available (and you like to tag on, because dealing with children is stressful and Haechan’s already stressed enough), and on weekdays Jungwoo has to wake up from his nap earlier to pick up the kid from school and bring him back home, then leave for work. You were too loud and disrupted the poor guy’s nap time.
“Oh,” Haechan says the syllable blankly, not too sympathetic, “did we wake you?”
“Of course not, I usually wake up at 2pm and take extra longs showers to start my day,” Jungwoo deadpans, “but whatever. I’m heading out. Don’t forget to go grocery shopping today.”
“Noted,” you and Haechan say simultaneously, gazing at one another and stifling giggles when you catch each other’s gaze. Jungwoo smiles at you, then flicks off his brother before parting.
When you’re both all alone again, a few seconds pass before Haechan’s eyes do that thing where they twinkle every time something catches his interest (or perhaps that’s the in love side of your brain making you see things.)
“Hey, you coming to Chenle’s Valentines Day party Monday?” You don’t know why he’s even asking, you follow Haechan everywhere he goes like a lost puppy. Maybe he’s discreetly asking you out. “Unless you’re actually busy, by the way, I hope you know you’re going. And maybe you’ll find some single pringle interested in a relationship. You can’t just kiss me forever, you know.” Oh. Well that eliminates that thought.
A part of you is yelling at you to decline, to lie and say that you actually have a dick or pussy appointment scheduled for the 14th, yet another is weak, in spite of you being aware of how this works. First of all, Valentine’s Day parties are mainly for single people who don’t have anything better to do, and each time one of you go to one, you end up meeting some stranger and hooking up with them. You know that’s more than likely what he’s going to do, and you aren’t strong enough to watch him flirt with other people.
You know how to put up a good front, though, so you’ll fake it until you make it.
“We can do a lot more than kiss,” you suggest with a wink.
Haechan grimaces, “No thanks. Now get off my lap.”
You frown, but climb off his lap nonetheless. “Wow,” you drag dramatically, “You’ll make out with me for what feels like hours, but sticking your dick in me is where you draw the line?”
“Precisely.”
You gasp in faux offense. “Oh, come on. Sex doesn’t seem so bad. Like, think of it as my pussy giving your dick a nice warm hug.”
Haechan’s at a lost for words, his face bright red. How do you even come up with this stuff? “Oh my god, are you coming or not?”
You joke, “I thought you said sticking your dick in me was where you draw the line?”
He shoots you a glare so sharp you’re sure that if you were still on his lap, he’d be barely resisting the urge to shove you off. You don’t miss the way his cheeks heat up, though.
Haechan groans exasperatedly, leaning back his gaming chair, “Y/n, seriously!”
“Fine!” resisting your best friend is literally impossible, you conclude, because you have officially caved in to his request—or, more or less, demand, rather, “fine, fine! I’ll go!”
“Great,” he grins with satisfaction, beaming with his thirty-two teeth, and you even see little gleams of smiles in his eyes, “anyway, Dohwan’s gonna be here soon, so let’s get ready to go shopping.”
You furrow your brows. You have a solid twenty minutes left, and all you really need to do is slip on your shoes.
“I need more Tootsie Pops,” Haechan adds, and suddenly everything makes a lot more sense.
And you roll your eyes. “We’ll get you some more Tootsie Pops, but you better not ditch us for the candy aisle!”
“Of course, not,” he smiles, not even trying to sound or appear convincing. “I’d never leave you guys.”
That’s exactly what he does.
You aren’t even remotely surprised, though heavily disappointed when he announces in the middle of the thankfully empty cereal aisle that he’s going to find Tootsie Pops, managing to run off before you can even protest.
Gripping the shopping cart, you avert your gaze from the Cinnamon Toast Cruch boxes to his figure, almost missing him jog onto the following aisle. You shake your head, a small smile tugging your lips. If it were the end of the world, Haechan would stock up on those candies before he would even think to consider water.
“Auntie Y/N,” you aren’t quite adjusted to being addressed as an aunt, but you aren’t against it either. You have the image all put together—rich, thriving, and the kids adore you, “do you love my brother?”
That was perhaps the very last question you expected the six-year-old boy to ask you. Your eyes are a little wide, but it’s a kid, you remind yourself, so you shouldn’t be worried. But shit, then again, if a first-grader can figure it out, you’re fresh out of luck.
“Why do you think that?” You crouch down to be eye-level with him, having a feeling there’s some misunderstanding here. Dohwan’s bright for his age and doesn’t let anyone forget it, but you’ll be damned if he’s sniffed you out.
He makes a face. “I saw you kiss him, just like mommy and daddy do. And my mommy and daddy love each other very—” he stretches the vowel, and you can’t but giggle, “—much! That’s why they made me!” then he gasps, and you fear what it means, praying he doesn’t ask what you think he will. “Will you and my brother have a baby, too? I wan’ a new friend!”
On second thought, you think you’d rather he would’ve asked you what you thought he was. You nearly have a heart attack in the middle of the aisle, yet still, Dohwan gazes up at you with his innocent, sparkly eyes. You assume it’s in the blood; Jungwoo doesn’t have them, and he isn’t blood-related to Haechan, but Dohwan partially is, and the twinkle is promiment.
Calmly, you reply, “Don’t you already have a lot friends?”
He does, you both know it. You vaguely remember pulling up to his sixth birthday bash and being in shock of all the little kids jumping and flipping on the Spider-Man bouncy house. You haven’t been surrounded by that many children since, hell, probably since kindergarten.
“Yeah, but I wanna be a big brother,” he folds his tiny arms and pouts, “It’s not fair Hyuck and Woo get to be big, but I don’t!”
With minimum success, you manage to stifle your laugh, stretching out your arms to bring the little boy in for a hug, “You’ll be big one day. Trust me, you don’t wanna rush it.”
“And strong like Superman?”
“And strong like Superman,” you reassure, all smiley and convincing. “Now let’s go check up on your big brother, he’s taking too long.”
Dohwan rocks from side to side as he walks, murmuring some Nickelodeon TV show theme song, and you push the cart until you’ve reached your designation.
Quickly, you regret acting on your impatience. The scene taking place at the back of the aisle is anything but comforting—Haechan’s talking to some girl, whom of which is literally throwing herself onto him, and you can’t help but notice the way he wallows in the attention. For fucks sake, all the attention you give him and he doesn’t even give a fraction of it back! Then here comes this random girl from your campus.
Sometimes, you think about how you could do everything she’s doing right now—twirl your hair around your finger, be touchy with him, giggling girlishly at everything he says, funny or not—and yet he wouldn’t bat an eye, because you’re best friends and nothing more. Kissing each other breathless is already normalized between the two of you, what’s a little flirting.
Sometimes, you wish you hadn’t kissed your best friend that day. You’re both too comfortable, everything is too weightless. I love you, Haechan says it back without a thought. C’mere, he calls and pulls you onto his lap or cuddles you to death. Fuck, he—on very rare occasions when making out goes a little too far—groans into your ear, groping you a little. Scratch that. It may be weightless on his end, but it isn’t on yours, and everything has an everlasting effect on you.
“Auntie?”
When you look down at Dohwan, your gaze is so, so tired. Your eyes do the talking; you can’t move your lips.
He hugs your leg. “I love you.”
His face is pure, innocent, but he reads you so perfectly. The corners of your lips turn up, and you ruffle his hair, “Love ya, too. Let’s go get your brother, alright?”
He bounces eagerly, and you both begin to stroll down the aisle until you’re beside Haechan. You’re in a selfish mood today, so you think of some remark to make in the process.
“Nice Tootsie Pops, Bowlcut,” you mask your tiny emotional breakdown with a joke, “Hi, Faith.”
“Hope,” she corrects, evidently annoyed by your presence, though she doesn’t state it outright. “My name is Hope. And… bowl cut?”
“Interchangeable,” you dismiss her correction carelessly. In all honesty, you already knew her name, but you’re feeling like a bitter bitch currently, “and yeah, in high school Haechan had this hideous bowl cut that he—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Haechan grumbles, “that was four years ago!”
“And I’ll never forget,” you’re smiling blissfully, nostalgic. “Anyways, what’cha two doing?”
“We were catching up, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen Hope here,” you hear Hope snicker at this, and something about it is extremely off-putting. He turns to her, “So, I’m in a bit of a time crunch. Could I have your number?”
Ouch. Right in your face, literally.
She giggles some more, typing her number in his phone, and you try to focus on Dohwan so that you don’t cave into your desire to knock her upside the head. There’s already so much on your plate, you don’t need an assault charge.
She smiles, all bubbly and giddy. You know jealousy isn’t a good look, but it’s still pissing you off. “See you around?”
“See you around,” Haechan replies. She hugs him, not forgetting to shoot you a look from across his shoulder as she does, and only once satisfied does she turns on her heel, sashaying away.
“Didn’t know pussy was on the shopping list,” you sneer, relieved once she’s finally gone. Her presence was suffocating.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “at least I’m actually trying, I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’m cuffed down and—holy sh—I mean crap! You’re so quiet, I forgot you were here,” Haechan jumps, only noticing Dohwan when he pokes at his leg. “And don’t you dare make a cuff joke, y/n. Not in front of the kid.”
You yell in that defensive tone which is a tell-tale sign you’re lying, “I wasn’t gonna!”
Haechan gives you the look.
The we’re-best-friends, I-know-when-you’re-lying look.
And that look is utterly withering, so you decide you’re accepting defeat. “Okay fine, maybe I was thinking about it, but I wasn’t actually gonna say it. Not with him around.”
Haechan snorts, like you said something funny, but in reality he just doesn’t believe you. “Yeah, alright. Let’s finish shopping.”
You don’t argue, but there’s a lingering thought in your mind as you push the cart, rattling around in your brain still.
When he’s cuffed. Hmm. You can’t speak for him completely, but you both know how that one goes. When you get into a relationship, you think the person is great and they serve as a nice temporary distraction—that is, until you’re bored and realize no one will ever compare to Haechan, and especially not in the kissing department. So you break up, and then you go back to making out with Haechan, solidifying your suspicion that no one will ever replace your best friend. It’s the reason you don’t do relationships anymore, you feel bad for using people when you know it isn’t going to change a thing. It never does.
As far as your knowledge extends, things aren’t too different with Haechan. You and him don’t push things, you don’t pry too deep. There’s some unspoken boundary, and you know when to drop things. That’s why you both say the same thing each time you ask one another why you and whoever it was that you were previously seeing broke up—it wasn’t working out.
Like a moth to a flame, Haechan always finds his way back to you too, because apparently you’re the only person that can keep him tied down. You don’t think that’s the case, though. Your problem is you’re in love with your best friend, no matter how hard you try to suppress the feelings. His problem? You can’t be sure, but you’d guess commitment issues.
Whatever it is, and as selfish as it may sound, you want it to stay. He isn’t yours, but you like the comfort of knowing that he isn’t anyone else’s, either.
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If Cupid had a human counterpart, it would be Na Jaemin in reincarnated form. He may not have wings nor a bow and arrow, but he does have dedication and a gigantic mouth.
“I can’t believe you called me over here for this,” you stand in an effort to leave, but Jaemin pulls you back down by your wrist, so you sigh, accepting that you’re stuck in the cafe and in the middle of a Jaem-terrogation.
“Not so fast, Sonic. You still haven’t answered my question. I don’t have all day, you know, I have other people’s business to be in,” he admits unabashedly, and you snort at his honesty.
Jaemin is an extremely shameless, extremely straightforward individual. He knows what he wants, how to get it, and the only time he’s afraid of letting someone know what he’s chasing for is when it interferes with his goal of obtaining said desire. He loves all things drama and gossip, and these are the lengths he’ll go to squeeze information out of you. No wonder he’s one of the writers for the campus newspaper.
“I don’t have feelings for Haechan,” you fiddle with your fork. “And even if I did, why would it matter? Haechan doesn’t have feelings for me, either.”
“Forgive me, but you’re a fucking dumbass,” Jaemin concludes, and you gasp in dramatic offense. “Why would I be here if he didn’t like you back, y/n? You know that he hasn’t had anyone over in two weeks? There’s like, three things at the top of Haechan’s list of shit he needs to survive, and that’s you, Tootsie Pops, and sex. Yet he’s gone two entire weeks without it. He likes you, really fucking bad.”
“Golly gee, Haechan hasn’t fucked anyone in two entire weeks. He must be head over heels in love with me,” you deadpan, ignoring how Jaemin rolls his eyes in response. “Be serious, Jaem. He literally got this girl’s number the other day. The man said himself that he doesn’t want to stick his dick in me. There’s nothing going on.”
Okay, so maybe Haechan is a raging sexaholic. Maybe he’s been a little horny recently. And maybe contact-full makeout sessions have been a reoccurrence in the past two weeks, but none of that matters, and he typically has extreme self control. Fresh as yesterday, he was definitely trying to get into Hope’s pants. It’s weightless, everything between you. It means absolutely nothing, and you’re trying to come to terms with the possibility that it never will. You wish your friends would accept the fact, too.
At least they don’t know you and Haechan make out, and have been for the past four years. They’d be insufferable, and you two would absolutely never hear the end of it.
“Y/n, please. Your biggest competition is those damn Tootsie Pops.”
“And if you told him that he had to live without me or the candy, he’d choose them over me any day.”
“Actually, he’d tell me to fuck off—and stop asking him stupid questions. You can’t tell me I’m wrong because I’m speaking from experience,” Jaemin grins, “I pushed the question until he gave me a proper answer. He chose you, by the way.”
You groan into your hands, “Unless you have some other evidence to provide besides this stupid question and him not getting laid in two weeks, you’re wasting my time here, Cupid.”
Jaemin sighs, “I thought I could pressure you into admitting your feelings—”
“I don’t have feelings for Haechan!”
“—that you deny having, but I guess taking the high road doesn’t work. Don’t worry, I still have plan B. I mean, you should be worried, but it’s whatever.”
You blink. “Plan B?”
He ignores you, standing up and preparing to take his leave. You’re still curious about whatever his alternative, backup plan is however, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to tell you.
“Jaemin!” You shriek. “What are you talking about?”
“February 14th, Chenle’s party,” he answers vaguely, swinging his bag over his shoulders. “Be there, or be square. Whatever that means.”
He exits without another word, leaving you dumbfounded and with a sudden dread in your chest. They don’t… know, do they? No, of course not. How could they? You’ve been keeping this secret for nearly four years, and the only people that know are Jungwoo and Dohwan.
Great. Another reason to dread the fourteenth, and despise Cupid—and his human counterpart, your actual mortal enemy.
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“I know you like Regina George, but the dress code is Cady Heron.”
Bummer. You didn’t exactly plan on attending as a sexy bunny in fishnets and knee-high boots, but you don’t intend on wearing a Party City outfit, neither. It’s only the 6th though, so you still have a week and some change to outfit plan.
You frown, “Why the change? None of his past parties have had much of a dress code.”
“Because Chenle is also stuck babysitting his baby brother on Valentine’s day while his parents are having a date night,” Haechan answers. “I’m not saying you have to dress like a prude, but don’t dress like a slut, either.”
Ignoring the insinuation behind his words, you don’t miss the fact he said also. “What do you mean also? Don’t tell me…”
“Exactly what you think. Dad is whisking my stepmom away on a romantic evening date to only God knows where, and Jungwoo is busy with his girlfriend, so me being the sole single-pringle in the family gave him the bright idea to have me baby sit,” he explains, though he doesn’t seem burdened by the task. “I don’t really mind, though. It’d be one thing if I planned on getting some pussy that night, but no one’s smashing at a party where there’s children. I hope not, at least.”
You wince at that. You hope not, too. It’s a setback that you have to re-plan your outfit, but on the plus side, Haechan can and will help you decide this time, even if you have to force him.
So that’s where you find yourself a couple hours later, your bedroom a mess as the aftermath of the meticulous care you’ve put into your self-styling. You’ve narrowed it down to two outfit selections; option A, the white crop-top with the cute pink pants; or option B, the pretty and red mini-dress with stilettos. It’s a little embarrassing that hours of your indecisiveness have led you to this conclusion, but you want to choose the perfect outfit that’s also not overbearing.
“And I have to help you why?”
“Because you’re my best friend, and that’s what best friends are for, duh.”
Haechan’s favorite thing about your place is you have all his utmost favorite games—and that literally everything there is like a piece of you, from the decoration to the smell of your perfume bottles you keep in your bathroom. He’d never tell you that, though—so he wasn’t too enthusiastic about being interrupted from his video-gaming session. But then, he realized he gets a special preview of your Valentine’s day outfit, and Haechan loves the way you dress, probably an abnormal amount. Slutty or prude-y.
“Then what’cha waiting for? Strip for me, princess,” he demands jokingly. It isn’t normal for you to feel bashful by anything a guy says, but everything is so different with Haechan. It’s the littlest, simplist things that drive you over the edge, that make you want him in ways you probably, scratch that, definitely shouldn’t.
And all the questions, assumptions, and rumors regarding your nonexistent relationship with Haechan aren’t exactly unwarranted. You two flirt and touch an abnormal amount, and while it’s common knowledge that Haechan is a touchy person, and you’re a natural flirt, people say it’s extreme between you two.
That makes you laugh. When it comes to the tension between you both that people speak of, you wish you could see what they see.
“You want to watch me strip?” You’re genuinely surprised, only the other day he seemed repulsed by the thought of you naked. “That’s new. I’m guessing you haven’t gotten laid in a hot minute.”
Haechan rolls his eyes, silently confirming what Jaemin told you at the cafe, but you shake the thought away, refusing to let it spur you on. It doesn’t mean anything. “Anyways. You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen before, baby girl. Now, you gonna strip or what?”
“I’m stripping, I’m stripping! Relax, Liam Payne!” It’s really nothing he hasn’t seen before, because Haechan’s seen naked girls, and he’s seen you half-naked before, so neither of you actually care. You peel off your top, slowly and in a strip tease sort of way and look him in the eye, giggling once you catch him shaking his head. You don’t repeat the movement with your shorts though, simply taking them off and picking up your new shirt to slip it off the hanger.
Successfully discreet, Haechan wallows in the sight of you half-naked for as long as he can before you’re slipping on the crop top and the pink pants. Now that he thinks about it, he bought you those pants, and darn do they make your ass look good. Then he realizes he’s thinking about your ass and taking not as discreet looks at it, and shakes the thought away.
“So?” Your voice cuts through the silence. “What do you think?”
He needs a moment to gather himself and recollect his thoughts, because he feels like turning on Destiny’s Child’s Bootylicious and if spoke his mind he would definitely say something he’d regret. Like, I could fuck the shit out of you. He doesn’t think he should say that.
“What do you mean, what do I think? I bought you those pants, I’d be damned if I thought you didn’t look good in them,” Haechan supplies, making you roll your eyes in response.
“Very underwhelming reaction. I wanted you to fall out on the floor and pass out for a few seconds with your hand on your chest,” you pout.
“Definitely not doing all that,” he chuckles. “But you do look good enough for… somebody to do it. Anyways, it’s stripping time again. Get in that dress for me, princess.”
If he doesn’t stop with the pet names you’re going to combust. You hide it though, taking off outfit option A and putting on option B. You feel confident in your appearance, with or without him, but the way Haechan’s practically gawking at you does boost said confidence.
“What about this one?”
Okay, so Haechan’s one-hundred percent biased in his decision—or maybe he isn’t, since he didn’t buy this outfit—though nonetheless, he loves this dress on you. In his personal opinion, you’ll look good in anything you wear, but the way this particular dress hugs your figure perfectly is a bonus. He knows all eyes are going to be on you the moment you step inside Chenle’s house, and maybe he’s going to have to keep you and Dohwan close to his side.
Rather than replying verbally, Haechan walks forward and pulls you into a kiss. His hands dip around your waist, skirting the area until he’s gripping you like he’s afraid of letting go.
And as always, you melt into his lips. Like ice to the sun, or wax to a flame. It’s the umpteenth kiss in your whole lifetime, but Haechan always makes it feel like the first time. Like two love-struck highschoolers, except with a lot more experience. Haechan kisses you like he loves you, and you hate it. You might even loathe it.
His fingers slip down your hips, to your revealed thighs, like he just so happens to know that’s one of your weak spots. Luckily you’ve learned some of his weak spots too, and not really thinking, you don’t hesitate to aim for his most sensitive one - his neck. You can’t get used to how beautiful he sounds as he moans, your lips pressing into his sweet spot and leaving undoubtedly a mark.
“Fuck,” Haechan moans, “you’re my kryptonite, you know that?”
“A kiss is all it takes for you to fold?” You gasp out with a smirk.
“Shut up.”
Your grin widens. “Make me.”
Just as he leans in, about to pin you down to your duvet and kiss the life out of you while you’re thinking that maybe this is the tension people speak of, his phone rings in his back pocket. It feels like snapping out some trance or spell, like a reverse Cupid’s arrow, and he instantly backs off of you.
He takes a look at his phone screen. “I um, I gotta take this.”
Biting your lip, you nod. “Okay.”
“You look great though,” he comments, and you smile thinly at him as he slips from between your fingertips yet again.
It seems that you’re left all alone, pathetically wet, and wondering if that person on the other line is Hope - but you try to shake that thought off.
Sighing, you flop against your sheets. Love is some extremely cruel, extremely rigged game that only lucky people win, and it seems that Luck has sided with the evil that is Cupid. You’ve been dealt cards, and Haechan refuses to show you his hand. All you can do is watch it play out.
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Haechan knew that something was dangerously off when Jaemin bought him a brand-new bag of Tootsie Pops without being asked, and invited you over for a movie night with the guys, offering to open up with you and Haechan’s all-time favorite movie, Mean Girls. He even offered to play The Kissing Booth next! Everyone else instantly protested of course, but the fact he offered in the first place is borderline suspicious.
Sure, Jaemin’s not the devil or anything, depending on who you ask. He’s… kind, and he can be a sweetheart. But Jaemin does nothing for free, and Haechan can’t shake the thought that this is planned bribery. And it isn’t hush-money. Jaemin doesn’t buy silence, he buys words.
By the time Jaemin asks Haechan to help him with the popcorn, he’s ninety-nine point nine percent sure that something is definitely wrong here. Yet still, he follows him into the kitchen.
“Alright, what’s up man?” Haechan wastes zero time, wanting to get to the bottom of all this. “I know you want something out of me. There’s no other reason you would offer to play The Kissing Booth, or buy me Tootsie Pops for free.”
Jaemin scoffs, but he doesn’t try to front, “Glad you know. Since we’re on the same page, let’s address this thing with you and y/n.”
“That’s what this is about?” Haechan grumbles. “I’ve told you, I don’t have feelings for her!” He whisper-yells.
Jaemin has heard that far too many times for it to be convincing. He’s positive that even Helen Keller herself could tell you two are hopelessly in love. Takes one to know one, he thinks. It seems the three of you must be blind, because you and Haechan are oblivious to your feelings for one another, and it’s painfully obvious.
“And Mary wasn’t a virgin,” Jaemin says ironically, making Haechan roll his eyes. “If you’re not in love with her, then explain what the hell is going on between you two. I know that she’s your best friend or whatever, but you don’t act like it at all. From a fresh perspective, someone would totally think you’re in love.”
Haechan hates that he’s right. It doesn’t make sense the amount of times you’ve gone to public places and had cashiers refer to you as a couple, or elderly people ask you if you’re together. Because you’re not. You’re best friends, and even if Haechan wants to be more than that, that’s his label. And he’s sure he’s stuck with it for life.
“You’re fucking Hope to distract yourself from your feelings for y/n,” Jaemin adds, and it’s a statement, not a question.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” Jaemin interjects. “Head over heels, in love with a girl you think doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and you’re also being an ass to her, whether you know it or not.”
If Haechan was in a situation where he needed to simplify the reason you two click so well, he’d say chalk it up to compatibility and say it’s because you’re like a mirror of one another. Which also means he knows you, better than anyone else even, and he knows neither of you do the whole catching feelings things anymore. You like to fuck and flirt, and fuck some more, to avoid the fact that you love too hard. If you fuck people whose names you don’t even remember, it doesn’t mean a darn thing that you two make out.
No one really knows about that part yet. But they do know that you like to fuck, and that’s why Haechan thinks that if he’s an ass, then that means so are you. What the fuck is he doing that you aren’t?
Even if he is an ass, what is he supposed to do? He’s only recently realized that damn, he actually does have feelings for you, which is where Hope comes along and yes, he is fucking her to distract himself from you. So what? It’s not like it’s working, he’s still stuck on you, obsessed with the thought of you, craving your touch and the sound of your voice. He still loves you, and it’s so scary because no matter what his friends say, he thinks they don’t know you or your relationship like he does. They think they do, but they don’t.
“I’m not in love,” Haechan lies through his teeth, “maybe I’m in like.”
Jaemin snorts. In like? That’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Not in love his fucking ass. “You’re in denial, that’s what you are.”
Haechan grumbles, trying desperately not to raise his voice so that the others don’t hear him from the living room, “Even if I did like her—and I’m telling you, I don’t—it wouldn’t change anything because she doesn’t like me.”
“You two are the same breed of oblivious and stupid,” Jaemin takes the popcorn out of the microwave, pouring it all into a bowl. He’s even laughing, much to Haechan’s confusion, but he’s apparently unbothered by Haechan’s lack of confession, “but fine. Lie to my face. I still have a backup plan.”
“A back-up plan?” Haechan repeats, lost.
“I just thought it would be nice of me to try and get you to confess before I have to work a Valentine’s day miracle, but unfortunately you two are a match made in heaven—both terribly stubborn,” Jaemin says vaguely, not really answering Haechan’s question, “so I guess we’ll all know the truth at Chenle’s party.”
Jaemin exits with the popcorn bowls before Haechan can even part his lips to ask another question, and he stands there, shocked and unsure of how to react. He’s concerned, though. Jaemin has something cooking (besides the popcorn), and he isn’t sure what, but it’s Na fucking gossiping blabbermouth Jaemin. That means it can’t be anything good.
So apparently when you and Haechan had that heated makeout session the other day, you left a trail - or in other words, you marked his neck the fuck up.
You hadn’t noticed because he covered it up with concealer, but you’re in the middle of another one of those when he stops you, preventing you from repeating your mistake.
“You can’t do that. People will see,” Haechan frowns. You wonder what’s the problem with hickeys. Is he embarrassed? No way. Haechan? Embarrassed? About hickeys? He has much bigger fish to fry.
In contrast, you’re over the moon. Even if he isn’t yours, marking him up makes you feel like he belongs to you. Plus, other people will see, and they’ll know that he isn’t theirs, either. Haechan also has a beautiful neck, you realize as you stare at his skin. It makes you wonder if there’s anything about him that isn’t beautiful.
“Would that be so bad?” You ask. “You’d look sexy all marked up by me.”
Haechan groans, “Do you ever think with your head and not your pussy?”
“I wish my pussy was my head. My head’s just so full of you,” you sigh dramatically.
It’s rare for Haechan to blush, but you somehow manage to make him full-on flush sometimes and you take that as an achievement. It’s partially the reason you love flirting with him so much, he’s so reactive. His reactions are cute sometimes.
“Be serious for 5 seconds,” he whines, and you giggle.
“I was serious,” you insist, “but fine, I’ll think with my head since yours is clearly not working. No one’s gonna assume they’re from me, Hyuck. Just tell them they’re from one of your hoes.”
“I know, but it’s not them I’m worried about. It’s, um…” he trails off.
You’re confused, blinking. If not your friends, then who on earth—oh, for fucks sake.
“It’s Hope,” you utter tonelessly.
“Yeah, uh, yeah,” he wonders why you suddenly sound so dry, and then the whole grocery shopping thing seeps back into his mind. You obviously don’t like Hope, and it’s not just you, really. Lots of people don’t like her. But Haechan needs a pretty face to compete with the image of yours in his head, even if it isn’t winning. “She kinda likes me, and—”
“Do you like her?” You don’t mean to ask so fast. It slips, like your mouth has a mind of its own.
Haechan shrugs. No, he doesn’t like her. He likes you, but he thinks that maybe he can somehow convince himself it’s the other way around. So he replies, “Maybe.”
Fuck. You try not to appear suddenly devoid of life, forcing a cheery smile. “That’s… nice,” you lie through your teeth. “Let me take this opportunity to have one last kiss before I possibly never will again?”
Haechan snickers, to silently say as if. He isn’t wrong for it, either. One kiss is never one kiss with him — never has been, never will be. There’s a reason you both bonded over bombing a math exam.
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D-day rolls around, and you’re eyeing your frame in your full-length mirror, smoothing your palms over your dress as you give yourself a quick once-over before the clock strikes 7PM. You look like that bitch, and everyone in that party is going to fucking know it because you’re going to walk in there like that bitch. Fuck Cupid. You don’t need his stupid bow. And fuck Haechan, too. He’s your ride, but he’s gonna ditch you at some point in the party like he always does. It’ll be no different now, and this time, you’ll be the first one to leave.
The chime of the doorbell jolts you from your mental slumber, and you quickly reach for your purse then head towards the door with a heavy heartbeat. You know he’s already seen you in this dress, he chose it for fucks sake, but there’s something else that gets your heart racing—no. You can’t think about him. Fuck Haechan, remember? He’s no good for you.
“Here goes nothing,” you mutter to yourself, palm on the doorknob, “you can do this.”
Haechan’s sucks in a breath the moment you open the door. You look gorgeous. You always do, but in this particular moment, you look better than you ever have before. Those corny romance sayings usually make him laugh with mirth, but he’s genuinely convinced you look better everyday that he sees you. All dressed up like this, or not.
“You look so pretty, Auntie!” Dohwan beats him to a compliment.
You bend down to ruffle the boy’s hair, “Thank you, Dohwan. You look very handsome.” And then you look at Haechan.
He looks handsome as well, unfortunately. Jet black hair, exposed forehead, and his outfit is black with red hearts in the center of the shirt. You try not to pay him too much mind, but your heart and the place between your thighs don’t seem to agree with your mind. He catches you looking at him, and feels a twinge of anxiousness in his heart. Get it together, man, he tells himself. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t get nervous looking at pretty girls. Lee Donghyuck doesn’t hesitate about his actions, either, wondering if he should hold your hand, he doesn’t rethink what he should say. It all comes to him naturally.
“Yeah, you look beautiful,” he settles, mentally cursing himself for being unable to think of anything else. He blames you. Ever since you first snuck in his mind, you’ve been living rent-free there, and make it hard to think about anything else sometimes. That’s why he thought that needed distractions.
If you could relay the message to your heart, you’d tell it stop beating. Instead, you mask your emotion, smiling. “Thank you, likewise. Now c’mon, we gotta get there by 7:30!”
Haechan’s saddened by the dismissal, but you don’t catch his face as you walk to his car.
If you ignore him, you can do this.
Haechan cannot do this.
Something isn’t right. It wasn’t right the second he noticed you gave him a simple, rushed compliment, not bothering to make some sexual remark that usually makes Haechan’s cheeks feel like fire. You didn’t even kiss him before you got in the car. And Haechan’s sure you’ve been avoiding him like the plague, scurrying off and getting lost in the red and pink sea before he could even ask you if you wanted to check out the drink menu.
He doesn’t know where you are, and that haunts him. Turns out Chenle is paying Yangyang, Ten and Jisung to keep the kids entertained on one end of the house, whilst the adults do adult-y things on the other. You could be with someone else for all he knows, hell, you probably are. He was practically fuming when he saw some people staring at you as you walked in.
“Uh oh, I think y/n divorced Haechan,” Chenle jokes, and a choir of laughs follows suit.
Haechan grumbles, “A guy can’t miss his girl best friend?”
“Of course, you can,” Chenle drawls, “but everyone knows she’s more than just a friend to you. Like even if you aren’t together, there’s no way you guys don’t have feelings for each other.”
“Right? And they’re so cute together, too. A literal match made in heaven by angel Cupid,” Jaemin agrees, speaking as though Haechan isn’t right there.
“You’re dating y/n?” gasps Karina, overhearing Jaemin much to Haechan’s dismay. Oh, great, she’s as much as a blabbermouth as he is. The whole world’s going to think Haechan’s dating you in five minutes or less.
“No!”
“Yes, he is, spread the word,” Jaemin says, already knowing he doesn’t have to tell her. Karina’s mumbling I knew it under her breath before jogging somewhere.
“You know,” Haechan starts, downing a shot because if he’s not at least tipsy he’s going to die at this party, “she’s been making me watch murder documentaries with her and I’ve definitely picked up a thing or two. I’d be careful.”
Jaemin scoffs, “Please. You’re going to be kissing my ass and the ground that I walk on by the time this party’s over.”
There it goes. Haechan wonders what’s so special about tonight that Jaemin’s been hinting at vaguely. It’s been keeping him on his toes, but he doesn’t ask because he knows Jaemin, and he isn’t going to tell him a thing. The one time this guy wants to keep something secret.
An hour flies by, and Haechan still hasn’t seen you. He’s looked for you, and refuses to believe his eyes are somehow missing you, even though you’re in a crowd. He literally went up the stars and gazed over the railing for a better view, and you were no where to be found. You’ve refused to answer your phone, too, and Haechan doesn’t know what to do. He would just start talking to some random chick, but that’s not what Haechan wants. He doesn’t want some random chick. He wants to be with you. Hold you. Touch you. Kiss you, with no shame, no fear, in front of everyone, and he isn’t in denial about it. He wants you.
And Jaemin is fed up.
“Alright, I’m tired of you moping around drinking like a divorced man. Let’s go to the kitchen,” Jaemin suggests. Or commands, but still.
Haechan quirks a brow. “Where there’s nothing but more drinks?”
“Trust me, I’m not letting you drink anymore tonight. You have a wife and a kid to drive home,” Jaemin jokes. Usually he’d deny any sort of relationship with you that isn’t best-friendship, but Haechan simply shakes his head, following his friend and roommate into the kitchen.
Then he sees you, and his jaw doesn’t just drop, but it falls flat on the ground, bounces a little, and comes back down. You’re clinging to Chenle’s side with a confused face, equally as surprised to see him, though not very delighted.
“What’s going on?”
“What’s going on?”
You stare at one another.
“Stop copying me!”
“Stop copying me!”
Jaemin and Chenle stare at one another, then stare at you two staring at one another, and stare at one another again.
“I hate to interrupt your… stare-off, but there’s a reason we brought you two here,” Jaemin interjects, making you two finally split gazes as you stare at him, confused.
“Which is?”
“Which is?”
You glare at him. Jaemin’s success was short-lived, it seems.
“Drum roll, please,” he says, and Chenle begins tapping against the counter, “Dohwan!”
Suddenly, Dohwan pops up from around the corner. He’s on the completely wrong side of the house, and while he’s under adult supervision, you still wonder why he’s here.
You blink. “What’s he doing here?”
Jaemin smirks. “I’m glad you asked. Dohwan tells me he’s witnessing some very interesting sights of the two of you. Go ahead and tell us what you saw, kiddo.”
“I saw Haechan and Auntie y/n kissing, like mommy and daddy do!” Dohwan shares, grimacing in disgust. If you weren’t practically fearing for your life right now, you’d probably laugh at his reaction.
“And how often do you see this?” Chenle adds.
“Um…” the kid ponders, “every time Auntie y/n comes over. I heard them say they wanted to keep it a secret from me, but they’re not very good at it.”
Haechan shoots you a panicked look, and you’re wearing the exact same one. By the time you realize that this is what Jaemin’s been hinting at this whole time, it’s much too late. Your secret has been exposed to the worst people ever, and now they’re definitely going to think you’re dating. 
“Thank you for your input, Dohwan,” Jaemin smiles, then turns to look at you and Haechan. You’re both frozen and stiff, unsure of how to respond. “So, anything to say about this?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Haechan’s quick to say. You hope no one catches the way your face falters with hurt for a split second. “If you want me to be honest, then fine, I will. Yeah, we kiss. We’ve been kissing since high school, but it didn’t mean anything then and it doesn’t mean anything now. We just, I don’t know, do it for fun.”
Chenle deadpans, “So you just kiss for pure, innocent fun.”
“Exactly,” Haechan nods. “It means nothing.”
It means something to me, you think to yourself, and when you notice the silence in the room, you gaze up to see everyone’s eyes on you, Haechan’s a little wide. Oh, fuck.
“I said that aloud, didn’t I?”
“Yep,” Jaemin grins. He was right. “Is there something you want to share with the class?”
Stupidly, you decide to look at Haechan, and he’s re-lost his composure, frozen up and stiff all over again. Your heart is pounding harder than it has been all night. It’s partially the alcohol, but you can feel it in your veins and all around you. It won’t leave you alone, and looking at Haechan, it’s faster, as if to say he’s the one I want.
So you choose to make another decision that you might possibly regret, but you have to get this off your chest. It isn’t news to anyone but Haechan anyways.
“Donghyuck,” you start, and he knows it’s getting serious because you just said his government name. You literally never call him by his government name. “I know we agreed to keep things platonic, and for it to mean nothing, but I want you. Like really, really bad. I think I—no, everyone’s right, I really am, extremely in love with you. If you don’t feel the same I understand, I just had to get this off my che—”
You aren’t given the chance to finish before Haechan swoops you in his arms, reaching for your waist as he pulls you into a kiss. There’s a chorus of cheers from Chenle and Jaemin, followed by a shriek of disgust from Dohwan as he covers his eyes, but you two aren’t trying to hide anymore, you want to scream from the rooftops that you’re in love. Yes, the infamous Lee Donghyuck and y/n know more than flirting and fucking. You’re in love, drunk off of a sip of it and the taste of Haechan’s lips, and god, has kissing your best friend never felt better.
“Let’s give the newlywed couple some privacy now,” Jaemin says with a grin. Gosh, he really is the spawn of Cupid, but you have to thank him. This wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for his stupid ‘gotcha!’ plan. “You two work this out.”
The three of them pile out, and you and Haechan part from one another to breathe. You stay in comfortable silence for a moment, his hands slipping into yours.
“Your hands are sweating,” you comment after a while.
“It’s hot.”
“It’s the middle of February.”
“So? Global warming is real, you know,” Haechan shrugs, refusing to acknowledge the fact that his hand is sweating because he’s nervous. He’s accepted that you make him feel all warm inside and his heart feel like mush, but he still isn’t used to not hiding the way you make him feel.
You laugh but don’t press things. “Newlywed couple, huh. Can’t be, you still haven’t popped the question.”
“Yeah?” He laughs, too. “Then will you take my hand in marriage and take me as your illegally wedded husband?”
You hum, pretending to contemplate, “Hmm, I don’t know. You sure you don’t wanna marry a giant cardboard Tootsie Pop cutout? Or what about that girl? What happened to her, by the way, I thought you said you liked her.”
Haechan groans, not really wanting to think about her right now, “No more Hope. Ironically, she’s a lost cause. I had to cut shit with her because she can’t comprehend what a fling is. She wanted a relationship, and you know, I lied to you when I said that I might want her. I didn’t know you liked me back until, like, now, so I was just saying shit in hopes of convincing myself I could stop liking you. That planned failed, though.”
His words lift a massive weight off of your shoulders, and you finally feel like you can breathe now. Take that, bitch, you think with a smirk. She was giggling in your face so hard at the grocery store, but you’re having the last laugh.
You tilt your head. “What about the Tootsie Pops?”
“Yeah, sorry but I can’t give them up as easily. Would you mind a Tootsie Pop bouquet?”
Gosh, this is the man you love. You roll your eyes, but smile as you reply, “You know, you’re like a Tootsie Pop.”
If Haechan were a dog, his ears would perk up right now. “How come?”
“I’ll never know how long I’ll be able to kiss you without wanting to fuck you,” you lean in his ear to purr, voice tickling his neck. You eye it and his lips, and lord knows you can’t wait to finally be able to mark him up again.
“Yeah? Wanna go home, put Dohwan to sleep, and let me take this dress off you?” He grips at your waist, his hand resting there with the burning urge to dip lower. He bites his lip.
“Thought you drew the line at sticking your dick in me,” you joke.
“That was when I was in denial about wanting you,” Haechan whispers, “but now I can admit to myself that even though you amazing in this dress, I wanna take it off of you. Your body’s perfect.”
“I kinda hate the scar on my thigh.”
“Don’t. It provides depth to your character. It makes someone wonder how you got it, the story of how it happened,” he answers, ever so deeply.
“Poetic,” you snort, “can’t tell if you’re giving me Bruno Mars or John Legend vibes more right now.”
Haechan rolls his eyes, smiling. “You said you’d never know how long you’d be able to kiss me without dying to fuck me, right?”
“I never said dying.”
He ignores you, “Then let’s put it to the test, shall we?”
Your lips wind up pressed firmly to his, with your hands on his cheek and his palms on your hips yet again. It’s fiercer than ever, Haechan’s kissing you like he doesn’t want to let you breathe, like he wants to stay in this moment with you forever. He kisses you with love and lust, with passion and desire, with emotion and no more fear in his chocolate-y eyes. You don’t regret kissing Haechan that day. It took a while, but it brought you to this moment where you can finally call him yours. And that one more kiss stuff is bullshit. His lips are yours and vice versa, and as you’re by each other’s side, you’ll never stop kissing him. And he’ll never stop kissing you.
“They’re here!” Karina suddenly bursts into the kitchen, pointing at you and Haechan. “Look! I told you they were dating!”
Oh, god. You totally forgot about Karina’s stupid bet with Mark. Mark looks entirely devastated and surprised, devastated because that’s twenty-five bucks gone from his wallet, and surprised because he genuinely believed you and Haechan have been best friends this whole time. Technically, he isn’t wrong, but you’re not sure if you want to interrupt to tell them that.
Mark whines, “Oh, c’mon! I really thought you guys were just friends.”
“Pay up, loser,” Karina smirks, and with a pout, Mark pulls cash from his pockets.
Haechan looks at you, and while you don’t say anything, you can tell you’re both thinking the exact same thing. The whole campus is about to know you two are dating. Karina’s for sure going to tell everyone she knows, hell, probably even people she doesn’t know, and there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance of Jaemin raining your business on everyone in his latest report for the school newspaper.
You can’t say that you care, though. This is what you wanted, to unashamedly love Haechan, to be able to state it proudly in front of everyone, to let everyone know, to claim him as yours and yours only. So fuck Cupid. Fuck his bow, fuck his arrow, because this relationship is all a product of you and Haechan’s hard work and dedication.
Who needs Cupid’s bow when you have tasty lips and Tootsie-Pops?
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“You’re telling me you’ve been in love with me for the past four years? Oh, you’re a soldier. I would have given up in the first month.”
You snort. Part of becoming Haechan’s girlfriend is the process of telling one another the secrets you’ve been keeping, such as how long you can been in love. Haechan’s been in love with you for a solid year, he thinks, maybe two, but it’s been almost four years for you, on the other hand.
“If only it were that easy,” you sigh. “Trust me, I tried getting over you by getting under other people—how Jessie Reyez of me—but that didn’t work out, obviously.”
“You are too much like me,” Haechan shakes his head. “What made you think we should anyways?”
“You mean, four years ago, or now?”
Haechan shrugs. “Either. Give me three reasons.”
“Oh, brace yourself. I could do a presentation on this. One, we know each other’s McDonald’s orders. Two, like you said, we’re very alike. When have we ever argued over pizza toppings?” You reason. “Three, I can’t imagine kissing anybody else. I mean, we’ve basically been practicing on each other for the past four years. I’m the reason you can kiss so good, it would insane for you make out with other people. Four, I have a fat ass and sometimes I catch you staring at—”
“I said three reasons!” Haechan cries, face blooming red as a rose.
“I could go for a fifth,” you grin, “we’re both terrible at math.”
“Damn right we are,” he mutters. “But that’s what makes us… us, isn’t it? The only reason we’re dating right now is because we couldn’t resist kissing each other after one time.”
He’s right. It practically only took one kiss to fall in love with Haechan. He’s giving you major Dua Lipa vibes right now.
“I know you’re thinking about that Dua Lipa song right now.”
You smirk. “You know me very well.”
He tilts his head. “And what else are you thinking about?”
“That you look like all I need,” you say in tune, making Haechan laugh. “And I just want to feel your skin on mine.”
“Then we should do something about that, right?” Haechan smirks back.
You’re kissing the smirk right off his lips seconds later, and this is where you decide that you just can’t get enough of him. Even if one kiss is all it takes, you’re greedy for more, and more, and more, until both your lips are swollen and you’re both gasping for air.
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acourtofwhatthefuck · 9 months
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Practice On Me — Part Three — Azriel x Reader
Summary: It’s not an Illyrian party without at least one person starting a fight. Azriel is a jealous little shit. Y/N wants to put the smile right back on his face.
(I really don’t want to ruin this chapter for u but I finished writing it and all I could hear was Camilla Cabello in my head singing “I’llll be hooome for chwismois” — you’ll see why)
Word count: 6.2k
Warnings: Some fiiiilthy language. 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni 🌶️
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It’s not that you and the others are trying to take advantage of Rhysand’s mother’s absence. But having an empty property at your disposal definitely comes in handy.
Particularly on nights like these, two weeks later, when the cottage is packed full with more people than it can reasonably host. There’s drinking and conversation and faces you don’t even recognise, and someone has brought Elpys Vine, a herb grown by someone’s sketchy great uncle on the continent that’s supposed to make you hallucinate.
Judging by the empty chair that a male opposite you keeps winking at, you think it’s probably having the desired effect.
The spot next to you dips down as Azriel takes a seat at your side. He hands you a drink, and so naturally, his arm drapes around your shoulders. It’s comforting — and also a relief, to know that things are still normal after what happened on this very couch two weeks earlier. Not a slither of awkwardness.
But your eyes have most definitely been snagging on every unfamiliar female around you and wondering if one of them could be the target of Azriel’s affections. If Kaeda is here tonight, he hasn’t said so.
Part of you wants to ask, and part of you…doesn’t. For whatever reason.
“This is definitely already way out of hand.” Az comments, cocking an eyebrow as he takes in the volume of people packed into the small space. “I thought it was supposed to be a small gathering.”
 “That’s what Cassian told me, too.” You say, and then curiosity gets the better of you. You try to make it seem casual as you study the various females dotted throughout the room. “Is Kaeda here?”
Azriel’s eyes find yours, and he gives a small shake of his head. “No.”
“You didn’t invite her?”
“I didn’t invite anyone. That was Cassian’s job.”
You heave a very dramatic sigh indeed. Sometimes, Azriel is his own worst enemy.
Not that you’ve minded helping him so far — not at all. But surely there must come a point where he directs all he’s learnt at the intended person.
“I will make my move.” He tells you. “I’m just…not quite there yet. Still working on it.”
Fair enough, you suppose. Before you can say anything else, Cassian is suddenly slumping haphazardly into the space at your other side. One of Azriel’s shadows snakes out and clasps your drink before it can slosh down your front.
“Time for a game.” Cassian calls to the room, and you want to groan. Games with Cassian usually ensure chaos. “Let’s play Knife Point.”
There are enough enthusiastic responses that you know your reluctance will be wildly outnumbered. Knife Point is a game that’s used as a ruse to kiss as many people as you like — something you delighted in at fifteen, when kissing was still new to you, but you don’t feel quite the same excitement five years later. It’s pretty simple: a knife is placed in the centre of the table, and the players gather round. One-by-one, everyone takes their turns spinning the knife, and whoever the point settles on when it stops is who the spinner must kiss.
Basic, really. But Cassian loves kissing people.
You and Azriel share a look — one that says he’s no more excited for this than you are. And then you both crack a grin and settle into your seats, because you’ll always go along with Cassian’s shenanigans, even if you complain about them first.
“It seems only fair that the future high lord starts us off,” Cassian says, and slams a dagger down on the coffee table with unguarded enthusiasm. He grins at Rhys, who’s sat in an adjacent armchair with a curvy redhead on his lap. “Rhysand, darling — would you do the honours?”
Rhys flutters thick, dark lashes and gently removes the female from his thigh. “It would be my pleasure.”
The room watches closely as he spins the knife in a sleek way that has a few gazes heating. It spins fast, and then slows, slows, before landing on a female to his right whose name you don’t know. He angles himself towards her, and the smile he gives her most definitely has her falling head-over-heels in love, and the heated kiss he lands on her mouth most definitely has her falling head-over-heels in lust. She looks genuinely heartbroken when it comes to an end.
But then it’s her turn, and she’s kissing Jonan, an ex-fling of yours, and then Jonan is kissing Cassian, and then Cass is spinning the dagger and it’s pointing at you.
Your friend bellows a comical shriek of delight and jumps up so enthusiastically that this time, Az’s shadows can’t stop your drink from spilling. Cass is utterly oblivious as he turns to you with a wicked grin, holding his arms out.
“Come here, sweetpea.” He uses the nickname he’s called you for as long as you can remember. “Come make all my heated dreams come true.”
You snort, handing Az what remains of your drink and pushing to your feet. You intend to deliver a quick peck to Cassian’s lips, but so typically, he clasps your face with enough force to lift you from the floor, and his mouth lands heavily on yours.
Immediately, a chorus of jeers and laughs ring out around the circle. Cassian’s huge hand cups your jaw, and he kisses you like you’ve seen him kiss countless males and females before. It doesn’t matter that you’re his friend, an old comfort blanket — he gives you the exact same energy he gives them. He doesn’t do things by halves.
And the kiss certainly isn’t bad, if not a little strange. You can think of far worse people to be doing this with right now.
It goes on a little longer than necessary, and when you feel it deepen, feel Cassian’s tongue probing yours, you break away. Make a dramatic show of grimacing and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
“Damn.” Jonan snorts. “You didn’t kiss me like that, Cass.”
Cass smirks. “You’re not half as pretty, nor half as arousing.”
They squabble, and the game continues, and you slump back down by Azriel’s side, already tuning out the noise. You turn to retrieve your drink, only to find Az draining the rest of it.
“Hey.” You knock your arm against his. “I was going to finish that.”
He stares forward, not even looking at you as he quietly replies, “I figured you were too busy.”
Your face creases into a frown as you take in the stiff, rigid set of his body. He’s damn near hunched in that corner of the couch, and it can’t be comfortable with how his wings are a little squished, but it seems almost as if…as if he’s trying to put some space between you.
You try not to think too much about it as you return your attention to the game once more. The knife continues spinning and people continue kissing, and only once does the blade point in Azriel’s direction, to which he tersely announces he was never playing to begin with.
It’s that which makes you realise the reason behind his mood going south. He’s only just started exploring the art of kissing with you, only just started becoming comfortable with it. The last thing he’ll want to do is make a whole song and dance about it and kiss a near stranger in front of a group of people.
Combine that with his natural aversion to huge gatherings, and it makes sense, now, why he’s clutching your empty cup so tightly, and the muscle in his jaw keeps moving.
When everyone else is distracted, you place a hand on his arm.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You suggest. “Get some fresh air.”
But he barely looks at you. Just keeps staring forward. He shoots a quick, hard look in Cassian’s direction and rips it away just as fast.
“I’m fine here.” He says. “You knock yourself out.”
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
You know Azriel well enough to know when his social tolerance is at an all-time-low, and being at a party is the worst possible thing for him.
He goes more and more into himself, his brooding, and he seems to emanate an invisible signal that warns people to stay far, far away. Not even the drunken, giggling females approach him. The Shadowsinger is in a dangerous mood, and it won’t take much to set him off.
He doesn’t seem all that interested in talking to you, either, given that all your attempts have been met with quiet, one-worded responses. And so, figuring he’ll come to you when he feels like it, you wander off to get yourself another drink, and you sink into the throes of the party.
At some point, you feel a warm touch on your forearm, and you turn to find Jonan there. He’s a damn nice male — for an Illyrian. A little cocky, maybe, but kind. Not the sexist brute that so many of them turn out to be. You and he had been two eighteen-year-olds, excited about exploring each other’s bodies and sex in general. Realistically, it was never going to go anywhere, but you ended things in good spirits, and you’ve very casually fallen into each other’s beds on a few occasions since.
Judging by the way his dark eyes drink you in, you’re sure he’s hoping that tonight will end in the same manner.
“I haven’t seen you in a while.” You say as you pull back from the hug he gives you.
His eyes seem to glimmer with flirtation. “Perhaps you haven’t been looking hard enough.”
You snort. “Or perhaps you don’t train close enough for us to run into each other all that often.”
That’s definitely it. The Illyrian males are sorted into different training groups based on a whole host of different things. Unsurprisingly, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel are in the most skilled group. Jonan is in a different one.
And it’s Jonan’s group, you know, that has just got back from a harsh training exercise that takes them away for weeks at a time. Which is the most likely cause of you having not seen him in passing.
Azriel’s group will be the next to go on one last training exercise before everyone breaks for the winter solstice. They’ll be setting off any day now, as soon as they’re called forth by their general. A few weeks without your three closest friends is a thought you don’t want to linger on.
“How was the training exercise?” You ask, genuinely interested. There will always be a part of you that wishes that was you, out there, putting your skills to use.
But you’re female. And females stay behind.
“Fucking brutal.” Jonan answers. “The weather is bad this year, so we were out there a week longer than we were supposed to be. My sleep pattern is still fucked.”
“Sounds like you need to relax.”
“Oh, I do.” His eyes trail down your body. “Perhaps you can help me with that.”
You open your mouth, not entirely sure what you mean to reply. All you know is that you’re not jumping at the offer of easy, mindless sex like you have done in the past.
But before you can respond, Jonan is stumbling forward, into you. Thanks to a huge, muscled body knocking into him.
He whips around to face Azriel, spilled drink forgotten in his hand. You didn’t even see Az‘s approach.
“Watch it, Shadowsinger.” Jonan narrows his eyes at him. “You almost knocked Y/N over.”
Azriel stops and eyes Jonan with clear dismissal. A rare, antagonising expression sits on his flawless features. “Are you talking to me?”
“Do you see any other shadowy fucks around here?”
One side of Azriel’s lips twitch up in satisfaction. So rarely does he waste his time looking for a fight, but he’s looking for one now — and has found one.
“What I see,” he says, and steps closer to Jonan, towering over him considerably, “is an irritating little cunt who’s in my way. Move.”
But Jonan doesn’t move. Like a typical Illyrian, he salivates at the prospect of a punch-up. He looks a little pathetic as he tries to square up against Az.
“Now, now, Azriel,” he sneers. “That’s no way to talk about Y/N, is it?”
And the mention of your name in Jonan’s mouth is all it takes for Azriel to launch himself at him. There’s not nearly enough room for this, and as he grabs Jonan by the front of his tunic and slams him against the wall, all sorts of surrounding objects go flying.
At once, everyone is turning to watch the confrontation. And so fucking typically, of all the people in the room, neither Rhysand nor Cassian are anywhere to be found.
Which means you’re dealing with this alone. Because nobody else will care to break this up.
You curse quietly and jump in just as Jonan goes to land a hit on Azriel’s jaw. He falters as you throw yourself between them as best as you can at the angle. It’s not great, but you manage to wedge an arm between them.
“Hey. Enough.” You snap, and it feels like all the times you’ve reprimanded the camp younglings. “Cut this out right now.”
Jonan scowls. And actually says, “He started it.”
It makes you never want to have sex with him again. Never have you been drier between your thighs.
“I don’t give a shit. It stops now.” You stare between them seriously, and then you’re firmly grasping Azriel’s arm. “Az, we’re leaving. Now.”
There’s a moment’s hesitation, like Azriel really, really does not want to give up the fight. But then he’s letting go of Jonan’s shirt, more or less dropping him to the floor.
“Fine by me.” Az fucking smirks at the male. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
You don’t spare Jonan a single further look as Azriel grabs your hand and pulls you through the thralls of people, all disappointed at a fight not coming to fruition. But their attention is quickly stolen by something else, and you don’t look back as you and Az step out into the cold.
Az begins to walk as though the past minute never even happened. You’re quick to catch up to him and grab hold of his forearm.
“Hey.” Your breath clouds in front of your face in the cold night air. “What was that?”
Azriel shrugs. “It was nothing. He is nothing.”
“You—”
“It’s fucking freezing, Y/N. Can we just go?”
You stare back at him. The urge to pry more, demand an explanation, is a strong one. But it is freezing, and in this frame of mind, you’re not certain he’ll tell you anything, anyway. He’s in a strange mood — probably in anticipation of the upcoming training exercise. Perhaps unwisely, you decide to drop it.
“Go where?” You concede. The biting cold makes the decision to do so much easier.
“Dormitories. You can stay with me tonight.”
Dormitories is a very generous term for the limited accommodation that is offered to each training legion. Most of it sits unused, due to the majority of Illyrians preferring the harsh, toughening dwellings of tents and crumbling old houses in all extreme weathers. But a certain amount of small, draughty rooms are available, and Az tends to make use of his when the cottage begins to feel too crowded, and he needs a break from living on top of Rhys and Cass.
There’s no hammering droves of snow tonight, and you’ve patched up your boots enough to hopefully last you a little longer. A broad expanse of stars glimmers above you, making it a rather pleasant night for a stroll — or it would be, if not for the unavoidable presence of Azriel’s bad mood.
Your attempts at conversation are met with non-committal responses, and by the time you’re kicking through the peeling wooden door to the accommodation, you’re fucking exasperated.
Azriel can be very, very insufferable when he thinks himself into a foul mood.
You could go home, back to your father’s house — you certainly consider it as you follow Az into his cramped dwellings, but…you don’t know. You wouldn’t like to leave him like this. To walk away without seeing him crack a little smile. In nine years of friendship, you’ve never done so before. So you shut and lock the door behind you, and resign yourself to a very silent, very tense night.
You press your back against the door, watching as Azriel perches on the edge of the bed and removes his shoes. Through the walls, you hear the distinct sound of skin slapping against skin, and the building moans of a female close to climax. This miserable building is more often used as a place for a quick fuck than it is to actually sleep in.
But Az doesn’t seem to notice as he shrugs out of his clothing, quickly slipping on a pair of low-slung cotton sleeping trousers, and sprawls out across the mattress, wings fanning around him.
You’re not sure why you don’t move, at first. Or maybe you are.
Your gaze snags on the toned muscles of Azriel’s torso, and the smattering of dark hair that maps a line from beneath his bellybutton to what sits under his trousers. You’ve seen it countless times before, and yet you can’t stop staring.
Particularly when he stretches his arms above his head, and then drags a hand down his stomach. To him, it’s a subconscious act, but to you—
You can’t stop yourself zeroing in on his hand. The very hand that touched you and bathed you in a pleasure so stunning, so splintering, that you hadn’t dared to try and replicate it yourself since. Such inexperienced fingers had coaxed such expert sensations—
“Are you coming to bed?” Azriel’s voice drags you from your thoughts.
“…Right.” You clear your throat. “Yeah.”
“There’s a shirt for you in the armoire.”
You shuck off your clothes, digging out the tunic you often borrow from Az to sleep in. He barely spares you a glance, his eyes glued to the ceiling. You can’t help heaving a sigh as you pad over and slip beneath the blanket. The faelights wink out, and for a while, you both lie there in silence. It’s you who eventually breaks it.
“Are you going to tell me what that fight with Jonan was about?”
Az slings an arm above his head. “You were there. I’d hardly call it a fight.”
“No, I’d call it an overreaction.”
“Jonan’s an arrogant bastard and everyone knows it.”
He brooks no room for argument. And he’s not exactly wrong, either. You know Jonan gets himself into more brawls than the average person. But Az wasn’t exactly justified tonight.
But before you can think of a response, he says, quietly, “Sorry — if I ruined your night.”
You pause. And then roll onto your side, staring at his outline through the darkness. “You didn’t. I didn’t want to go to the party, anyway.”
There’s a tiny, soft snort. “Me neither.” He agrees. “But going along with Cassian’s ideas is the story of our lives.”
“That it is.”
Az says no more, does no more. And you…you hate it. Because it’s not simply that he’s sleepy and dozing off beside you. He’s just as awake as you are. And his mood is still heavy and tense.
You can’t stand it.
It’s perhaps against your better judgement that you inch closer to him, your mind already made up about how you might lift his spirits. It’s dangerous, because your arrangement has simply been about helping him, and he’s always been the instigator, knowing what he needs and when he needs it. Which he most certainly isn’t doing now.
But you would be helping him…in a way. And you can’t lie and say that it hasn’t bothered you, over the past two weeks, that you didn’t get to return the pleasure he gave you.
It would still be a learning experience. That’s what you tell yourself as you press against his side and drape your arm over his stomach.
Az pauses, but this isn’t unusual for the pair of you. You’ve cuddled like this plenty of times over the years — with your other friends, too. And so there’s no hesitation as he slides an arm beneath you and tugs you closer, his wing tucking you in.
You rest your head on his chest, and you murmur, “I don’t want you to go on the training exercise.”
You really, really don’t.
You always miss your friends when they’re sent away, but it seems…heavier, somehow, this time. Like there’s more between you to miss.
That…that is not a good thought to have.
You banish it from your mind rather than dwelling on it.
Az’s hand presses against your back. “I’ll be home in time for Solstice.”
You hear the unspoken promise in that statement; the one Azriel knows you need to hear. Because this isn’t just about simply missing his company.
Solstice is…hard for you, to say the least. Being holed up with your father, him drinking from the crack of dawn until he collapses in a chair by the fire. His unpredictable, volatile moods and tendency to pick at you over every tiny thing. It’s the time of year you rely on your friends the most, and you spend the entire day waiting for your father to pass out so you can sneak away and forget him for a while.
Azriel’s bare skin is so pleasantly warm, lulling you back to the present. You shelve your worries for the time being, press your cheek against his pectoral, and breathe in his frost-and-cedar scent. His wing drapes over you, cocooning the two of you in your own little world.
And there’s no better place than inside that world to ease some of Azriel’s tension. Bring the smile back to his lips.
“…Az?” You whisper, slowly gliding a hand over his stomach.
His body tenses beneath you. There’s a pause before he answers, “Yes?”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing…” He clears his throat. “Nothing much. What are you thinking about?”
The question is an opening for you to stop this right here. You could return a similar, half-assed response, remove your hand from his stomach and go to sleep. Like any sensible, reasonable friend would do.
Or you could be honest.
You could tell Azriel that your close proximity has you thinking all about the magic of his fingers, the sensations he wrought from you. You could admit that it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve thought about it since it happened — not at all. You could tell him that you’re still a little stunned, because besides yourself, nobody has ever made you come that hard.
You could tell him how badly you want — need — to return the favour.
And never one to back down from a situation, however daunting, you do exactly that.
“I’m thinking…” you murmur, and your finger begins to just slightly trace lines over his stomach. Your touch is so light, and yet you feel his body react beneath you. “I’m thinking that there’s more I’d like to teach you about touching.”
A little breath escapes him. “Oh?”
“Mhm.” That finger of yours gets a little bolder, making bigger sweeps over his skin and dancing close to his waistband. “But this time, I want to touch you. You made me feel so good, Azriel. I want to make you feel good as well.”
“You…you don’t have to do that.”
Gods, you know you don’t. You know this situation has never been about him expecting anything from you. Just a friend helping a friend out. No big deal.
But who says you can’t both get something out of it?
“I know I don’t have to.” You answer him. Your hand stops its movements, and you stare up at him, your eyes accustomed enough to the dark to make out certain features. “And I won’t, if you don’t want me to. Do you want me to?”
A tiny, tiny little pause.
And then Azriel rasps, “Yes.”
It’s a guttural, gasping sound, and it’s so delicious that you want to swallow it.
You don’t hesitate in moving your hand up to his face. You angle it towards you. Slant your lips over his.
And you smile. There’s a mulled wine that Azriel far prefers drinking over the piss-poor ale that most males around here favour, and it’s not the first time you’ve tasted it on him. It’s pleasing to explore — the spices and berries and damp heat of his mouth a combination that coaxes you to slide your tongue between his lips.
Az seems pretty well comfortable with his kissing technique, now. He leans into it, not at all tentative, his tongue meeting the strokes of yours. And then he suddenly breaks away.
“I like—this.” He pants heavily, breath fanning your face. “I like doing this.”
The words make something glow inside you, because that is precisely what you want. This isn’t just about teaching him the technicalities of physical touch. It’s about liberating him from the barriers he’s built in his mind, and showing him how much he can enjoy it.
And your friend deserves that.
You plan to really show him.
You slide your hand over his hip and haul him closer, eliminating the tiny little gap that existed between your bodies. An act that makes him suck in a breath.
“If I do anything at all that you don’t like, you need to tell me, Az.” You stare at him. “Okay?”
He nods.
“I need your words. Swear it.”
“Gods, Y/N, I swear it.”
He kisses you this time.
He really does like doing that.
The kiss is hot and hungry, loitering on the precipice of being frenzied. Azriel’s hand slides to the back of your neck, his fingers kneading the skin there. A dim faelight blinks back to life, bathing the two of you in enough warm light to see each other. His tongue pushes past the seam of your lips.
But you don’t give him the chance to stroke at your mouth. There are a million other places you can think of kissing; a million other places you’re just as desperate to get your mouth on.
Your lips glide along Azriel’s jaw with the lightness of a breeze. He goes still, appearing to wait with bated breath to see what you’ll do next, and how it will feel. He’s never been kissed here before.
Nor at his neck. You kiss the skin gently, at first, and smile to yourself at the little breath that hitches in Az’s throat. Something told you he’d be amenable to neck kisses.
Indeed, he is, as you attach your lips to the column of his throat and suck.
It’s a soft ungh, this time, that escapes him. A noise of both surprise and delight. Perhaps he never before considered the sensitivity of the neck, how enjoyable it might be to be kissed there. It’s one of many things you want to be the one to teach him.
You suck and lave at the area until his stomach is caving beneath your hand, and then you’re moving on, dragging your mouth over his collarbone. Down to his pectoral.
His skin is hot but its taste is cold — cold, like his scent. Frost and snow, icy starlight, the whipping winds and thrill of flying. Gods, it’s all delicious, and you close your mouth over his nipple, desperate to taste more.
Azriel starts, his back arching just a little. Your eyes flit up to his as your tongue teases the peaked flesh.
“This okay?” You check, allowing your teeth to graze just a little.
“Yes.” Az breathes. “I never considered that that might feel good for—for a male, too.”
You smile, repeating the action, fastening your lips totally around the nipple and giving a gentle suck. It earns you another quiet sound in response.
But you don’t want quiet. You want to make your friend feel so good that he can’t keep a lid on those sounds. The muscles of his stomach are quivering under your palm, and you decide it’s unfair to make him wait any longer.
So as your tongue circles his nipple, you slip your fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers.
You’re careful, even though you know the sharp intake of breath is a positive one. Nobody’s hands but his own have ever ventured here. You want him to be aware of every touch, every feeling.
Your fingers skate over the dusting of fine, coarse hair. And lower. And then your hand is on his cock.
The mere weight of your touch drags a breathless little noise from Azriel’s throat. And you pause.
Azriel is big, even by Illyrian standards.
From touch alone, you can feel its length, its thickness. You’re not entirely sure you can fit him in your hand, let alone anywhere else.
But gods are you willing to try.
You take your time exploring every detail, starting at the smooth, swollen head — already leaking a droplet of moisture —and circling its rim with your finger. Azriel’s hips jerk, and you smile, removing your mouth from his nipple to kiss further down,
“Still doing okay?” You ask, coasting your lips over his ribs. The pads of your fingers stroke over the head of his cock slowly, casually.
But there is absolutely nothing casual about Az’s voice as he grounds out, “I’m doing great.”
“Want me to keep going—”
“Please.” The word escapes his mouth before you can even finish the sentence. “Please.”
You smile, and you scoot lower down his body, giving yourself the perfect angle to explore the muscles of his abdomen with your mouth, your tongue.
It allows you to feel the exact moment you glide your palm down the length of Azriel’s cock, following the long, jagged vein.
Gods, it feels like it goes on forever.
The skin is velvety, smoothing over every vein, every bump and ridge. You explore it all, as much for your enjoyment as for his. You can’t imagine what it must be like to feel it sliding in and out of you, hitting a spot so deep inside you that you’d have to bite the mattress—
A thought you should not be having. It isn’t going that far.
And there’s a twinge of disappointment at that fact. But now isn’t the time for disappointment.
You trace the length of Azriel’s cock all the way down to his balls, and he’s trembling beneath you. You tug at his trousers, whisper, “Can I pull these down?”
It might be silly to ask, given that your hand is already well beneath the fabric. But you want him to have a choice in everything.
So when he gives a firm nod and lifts his hips for you, you tug the cotton trousers down, peeling them easily from his hips.
Azriel’s cock springs up. And it…it might just be the most perfect cock you’ve ever seen.
You damn near moan at the sight of it.
But before the sound can escape you, you smother it by pressing your lips to Azriel’s stomach. You kiss the skin, lap at it, graze your teeth over it. And your hand returns to his hardened length.
Finally — fucking finally — you wrap your hand around him.
Azriel makes a gasping sound at your touch, his hips canting up into your hand. He’s so responsive to your touch that you have to clench your thighs together to ignore your own arousal. This is about him. Entirely about him.
It’s about him as you slowly begin to pump his shaft, peppering kisses down and down until you’re at his hip. It’s about him as you squeeze gently and hear the hitching of his breath.
“So responsive,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hip.
“Is that—gods—” He hisses between his teeth as you pump a little faster, “—is that a good thing?”
“Very good, Az. I want to know that you’re enjoying it.”
“I am. Fuck, Y/N, I am.”
“Good.” Another kiss lands on his skin. “You’re doing so good for me.”
The praise drags another noise from the depths of his throat — the loudest he’s made so far. You don’t know whether he’s simply gaining in confidence, or whether he’s losing control. Maybe both. Hopefully both.
And you think you might lose control, too. Watch with rapt fascination as the head of his cock leaks, and it’s swelling, thickening in your hand, and you know he’s not going to last much longer.
You really want to taste him before he falls off the edge.
“Holy gods,” Azriel pants, his teeth biting into his lower lip. “Y/N, I don’t think I’m gonna last.”
“Don’t fight it.” You lick your lips. “Can I put my mouth on you?”
The question makes him fucking groan, and he chokes out an affirmative response, his cock rutting into your hand. You know he’s close, and you want him to finish. Preferably on your tongue.
And when you slide your mouth onto his cock, you know that’s going to happen.
You hollow your cheeks, sucking him into your mouth as much as you can.
Azriel shouts, his head falling back, eyes screwed shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
You suck on him, tongue tracing the length of the vein that’s beginning to throb. He doesn’t seem to be aware of the way he slides his hands into your hair, his hips rolling.
“Y/N,” he pants, your name languid and slurred on his tongue, “m’sofuckingclose.”
You pull your mouth off of him long enough to say, “Look at me. Watch me while you come.”
And then you’re sucking him again, your hand wrapped around the base of his length. You pump and lick him and bob your head in time to Az’s hips canting against you, and you think the sounds he’s making may just be the most beautiful ones you’ve ever heard.
And he watches you so closely, his brow furrowed, his lips parted, his chest heaving. Your gaze collides with his, and you’re hollowing your cheeks and giving a particularly harsh suck.
“Oh, gods, Y/N, fuck!”
Azriel spills into your mouth, shot after shot coating your tongue. You take it all, swallowing greedily, savouring the saltiness and the hint of something else that is just Azriel. It seems endless, and so do his groans, his constant string of curses, the jerking of his hips and the trembles wracking through his entire body.
You damn well suck him dry. Not a drop is spared.
As you finally pull him out of your mouth, wipe your lips with the back of your hand and glimpse his shaking, sated form, you know you’re committing the sight to memory. For when this is all over.
He’s…he’s a vision. Head still tipped back. Stomach and chest still heavily rising and falling. Pleasure still pinching his face. His hands are fisted tightly in the bedsheets.
You leave him to come down from his high. He’s still panting a little when his head lolls forward, and his eyes meet yours.
“That was—” His voice cracks a little. “God’s, Y/N, I don’t have words.”
“It’s okay.” You press a gentle kiss to his stomach, tucking his sensitive length back into his trousers. “Words aren’t necessary. You did so well.”
His arms are suddenly around you, tugging you up and against him, your body slanted slightly over his. All the earlier tension from the night is gone, and it’s just you and him, your love and friendship, your unbreakable bond.
Az holds you tightly, burying into your hair. And you think that this was maybe more than just…you returning a favour. You think this might have been a soul-shifting moment for him. Something that released him from the invisible bindings that have held him back for so long.
And it saddens you a little to think that that might be the end of it. That you’ve done all you can do.
But still, you’re honoured to have helped him this far. To have guided him through it.
“Thank you.” He whispers, dropping a kiss onto the top of your head. He’s still trembling, and he tucks himself in tight as if he’s worried he might break. “Just…thank you.”
You don’t quite know what to say. It feels a little…final, and you don’t like that.
So you simply nestle into his side, and you repeat your earlier truth, your voice a whisper. “I don’t want you to go on the training exercise.”
Because you know you’ll miss him more than you ever have before. It’s going to be far harder this time.
What, exactly, that means…you can’t bear to think of it right now.
And there’s no need to as Az holds you tightly, kisses your head again.
“I’ll be there with you on Solstice.” He says. “I promise.”
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azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden
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mvybanks · 1 year
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Hii! Can I request something where reader is best friends with JJ (secretly in love) and was supposed to sleep at his house (luke’s already in prison) after a kegger because she doesn’t want to sleep alone at home (or for some other reason you can decide) but JJ forgot and brought a random girl to sleep with instead. Reader is hurt and ignores him, JJ not knowing what he did wrong but when he remembers feels bad and tries to make up maybe leading to a love confession? Hope this makes sense & you can write this!! Really like your writing❤️❤️
too busy being yours to fall for somebody new
a/n: hii, thank you!! i really hope you like this!
warnings: ANGST, mentions of sex
word count: 2.8k
my masterlist
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if there was one thing that living in the outer banks had taught you was that life is never easy. not for people like you, anyway. you get beaten up and forgotten about constantly, but that’s just how it’s always been for pogues.
yet, you’ve never felt unlucky or cursed.
being a pogue might have meant that you couldn’t always afford what you needed, but at least you knew that you would never be alone. your life was full of love, friends and laughter.
and of course, your best friend. the only person in this world that you were sure would do absolutely anything for you. he was your rock and you were his. anyone with eyes could see how in love he was with you, how he looked for you whenever you weren’t around, which was rare, how his whole face lit up when he made you smile. anyone, except you.
jj maybank was never an easy person to understand and most people couldn’t warm up to his reckless behavior and childish comments made at the worst of times. but you did, because he might have been difficult but he was so worth it. you had never met someone with a bigger heart and you actually felt lucky to be a part of his life.
what you hadn’t realized was that you were the most important part of it.
“do you think we’ll ever get out of this island?” he asked one evening as you sat on the beach between his legs, your back against his chest while his arms circled around your torso.
he rested his head on your shoulder and you sighed, “don’t know. where do you wanna go?”
“it depends. where do you wanna go?” icy blue eyes looked at you expectantly.
“why? you following me, maybank?” you joked, but there was no humor in what he was saying.
he gently kissed your exposed shoulder, a simple act that wasn’t new but that always managed to make you shiver.
“just wanna be wherever you are,” he mumbled against your skin.
you nodded twice as you felt your heart trying to jump out of your chest, “good. you won’t get rid of me that easily, you know that?”
he chuckled, “wasn’t planning on it.”
you stayed like that for god knows how long, enjoying the comfortable silence and staring at the stars above you. you took his hands in yours and interlocked your fingers together, at which he answered by kissing your cheek.
“hey,” you asked after a while, “can i sleep at yours tomorrow? my parents are out of town and you know i don’t really like being alone.”
he raised his head from your shoulder, “why are you even asking me that? you know you’re always welcome, love.”
you blushed at the nickname, “wanted to make sure you were okay with it first,” you shrugged.
“ ‘course i am. plus, i’d never leave you alone. i know how scared you get,” he teased.
“shut up, i’m not scared,” you said pushing his head, eliciting a laugh from him.
“sure you aren’t.”
it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to act like that. you’ve always looked like a couple from the outside, which was probably the reason why it was always hard for you to find someone. that, or maybe it was your best friend that scared them off with just one look, but you didn’t know that.
although neither of you had ever had the guts to confess your feelings, jealousy was something that you couldn’t hide and jj very aware of that. he had tried to shake off that feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw a guy talking to you or that weird sensation in his chest when you started dating someone, but it was impossible to not notice them.
sometimes those feelings would cloud his judgement, the heartache was too much and he had to shut off all of his emotions in order to forget about his pain. he loved you, so much that he believed that you were better off with someone else, and so he settled for being just your friend, a part of your world, and as long as you would keep him with you, he was okay with that.
until he wasn’t.
it was pathetic, he knew that. the drink in his hand was probably his fifth or sixth one of the evening as he watched you dancing with another guy at the party you two were attending with your friends. he sat far away and if someone didn’t know him, they would’ve probably thought he was a creep from how much he was staring. but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, his beautiful best friend, the person he cared about the most in the world, swaying her hips to the music while some guy had his hands on her.
would you bring him home? or would you let him bring you to his place? was that why you insisted on going to that party, just so you could hook up with someone?
jealousy had obviously taken the best of him as he had even forgotten that you were supposed to sleep at his place that night, and you’ve always loved those kind of nights with him, where it was just the two of you and no one else. of course you weren’t going to do anything with that guy, you were only trying to have fun, just like he always did at keggers.
he was an hypocrite and he hated himself for it.
“hey, cutie,” a strange woman’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
he turned around and an attractive woman was sitting by his side. she wrapped her hand around his bicep and her intentions were clear, especially when she put her other hand on his knee.
“you look lonely. everything okay?” she asked, although she didn’t really seem that interested in what he was about to say, not that he could see that as drunk as he was.
“love is bullshit, you know?” he said and his angry voice caught her off guard. she took her hands off of him and tried to follow his eyes, always fixed on you.
“ah. i see,” she nodded her head, understanding exactly how he felt, and then grabbed his chin to make him look at her.
“listen,” she continued with a soft tone, “gonna be real honest with you. i came here because you’re hot and i wanted to hook up with you. so can i help you take your mind off whatever is going on with you?”
he sighed and thought about it, his eyes went back on your figure, completely unaware of what was going on while some guy whispered something in your ear, and he couldn’t take it anymore.
“c’mon. we can go to my place,” he said looking at the woman next to him.
you had just pushed away the guy in front of you who was starting to get too close and handsy, when your eyes wandered in search of your best friend. you looked around until you finally saw him, walking towards his bike with a girl under his arm.
everything in you stopped.
had he really forgotten about you? tears pricked at your eyes and you knew you needed some air, so you walked away from all of the drunk people around you and sat on the beach nearby.
you couldn’t believe it. the same guy that would’ve given you the moon, if he could’ve, had forgotten about you, how was that possible? was a hookup more important than you? you felt angry more than you felt sad. angry at him for not even thinking twice, and at yourself for feeling heartbroken.
he wasn’t yours. so why did everything in you ache at the thought of him bringing another woman to his place?
you took your phone from your front pocket and looked at his contact, weighing if calling him would’ve been a good idea. you decided to leave it alone and called another friend who was at the party.
“hey! where are you?” kie shouted through the phone.
“i’m on the beach. can i ask you a favor?”
when she found you, you blamed your red and puffy eyes on the alcohol, but you knew she didn’t buy it and you wordlessly thanked her for not prying. she silently drove you to your empty house and offered to stay with you, but you needed time alone.
once you got inside, you finally let yourself cry. no one was there to judge you or to ask you what happened, and you were actually glad about that.
‘that’s what happens when you fall for your best friend, huh?’ you thought to yourself.
you should’ve seen it coming. of course he was going to hook up with someone. just because you had to be a baby about being home alone didn’t mean he had to deny himself some fun. and you felt stupid, you shouldn’t have cared about this.
so you fell asleep on the couch in the living room, your tear-stained cheeks as a reminder of your heartache.
meanwhile, jj was lying alone in his bed, an arm thrown over his eyes as he couldn’t believe what he had just done. he knew he was a little bit drunk but he didn’t expect to moan out your name while another woman had her lips on his neck. she felt so humiliated that she left his apartment, leaving him in shock of his actions. he barely slept, if he even did that, the only thing he knew was that he got up from the mattress the next morning with you running through his mind. as usual.
he texted you multiple times, but he never received an answer and anxiety of what had might happened to you was eating him alive.
jj: hey did you get home okay?
jj: are you home?
jj: can you just let me know if you’re safe?
but nothing. when you didn’t answer to his calls, he got too much worried and decided to swallow his pride and drive to your house. the storm outside was raging and he wasn’t even sure if his bike would’ve made it so he decided to walk — no, he actually ran to you. the thought of you being hurt gave him all the strength he needed to run to your front door.
he knocked countless of times and then it hit him: you were supposed to sleep at his place. fuck. he shouted your name over and over again, and you heard him every single time, but you weren’t going to forgive him that easily. you might have been a fool for thinking he should’ve cared more about you than some girl but he was the one who treated you as if you were the only person in this world. if that wasn’t how he felt, then why did he act like it?
“OPEN THE DOOR PLEASE!” he kept yelling, his voice muffled by the rain and yet so clear.
after a particular loud thunder, you decided to grant his wish. you might have hated him in that moment but the line between love and hate is incredibly fine.
and there he was, completely soaked, bloodshot eyes looking at you and full of regret. the sight of you wearing his sweatshirt almost gave him a little bit of hope of being forgiven.
“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i completely forgot,” he was panting loudly and you wondered if he had walked under the rain just to tell you that.
you shrugged and faked indifference, “i don’t care. why are you here?”
“yes, you do. you care and i’m sorry, i really am. i don’t know what happened, i don’t know how i forgot about this,” but he did. he had acted childishly, he had entirely lost sight of what really mattered.
a stranger having his hands on you? that didn’t matter, that wasn’t even worth mentioning. you mattered.
only you.
“listen, jj” you sighed, “i don’t wanna talk about it. i hope you had a good night. can i go back to my movie now?”
now he noticed what was really going on. he cursed himself for not getting this sooner and he really hoped he was right about this.
“nothing happened.”
“don’t know what you’re talking about. goodbye, jj,” you went to close the door but he stopped you, his hand colliding with the wood.
“nothing happened between me and her. she left before anything could’ve happened. i-“ he ran a hand through his hair and prayed that he wasn’t going to ruin this, “i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
you swallowed and suddenly your mouth felt very dry, “i told you to go.”
he got closer to your face as his hand was still trying to force your door open, “please. i saw you with another guy and i completely lost it, you have to believe me. i’d never forget about you, pretty girl,”
“don’t you dare call me that right now. i told you to leave! ” your voice was raising while you tried to keep your tears at bay.
“no, i’m not leaving,” and the look in his eyes was full of determination.
“fine, then i’ll call the cops until you do.”
“okay, you do that. but i still won’t leave,” his face was too close to yours and you couldn’t bear it, so you shoved him.
“go. away.” you yelled.
“stop pushing me away!” he raised his voice as well, a little bit farther from you now.
“and you stop acting like you care about me!” that hurt him the most and you regretted it immediately.
“i don’t care about you now?” he chuckled humorlessly and threw his head back, his hands covered his face and then moved away the hairs that had stuck to his forehead due to the rain.
“jj, i-“
“no, no, please! tell me how i don’t care about you. tell me how i feel about you, go ahead. ‘cause if that’s what you think then you really know nothing about me. i bet you think i don’t love you either, do you? that i haven’t been painfully in love with you since the moment i met you, that everything in me doesn’t hurt whenever i see you with someone else, that you’re not on my damn mind every single minute of everyday. you don’t know that i haven’t been able to be with anyone for months now because i can’t stop thinking about you.”
tears were already streaming down your face and you couldn’t believe what he had just told you. you looked at him, panting and hurting, and everything inside of you screamed at you to run to him and hug him but you felt paralyzed.
“you know what? fuck this, forget about what i said.”
he began walking down the driveway of your house, his own tears mixing with the rain, when he felt your hand on his forearm and he stopped his movements.
“i don’t wanna forget,” you said and finally your mouth was on his.
you wrapped your hands around his neck, ran your fingers through his wet and messy hair, and his hands went on the back of your head and on your back, gripping your shirt as if it was his lifeline.
and it was messy and desperate, the both of you completely soaked in the rain but it was perfect, because you were his and he was yours.
you pulled away for a second — “not yet,” he whispered against your lips before kissing you again. you giggled in his mouth at his eagerness and you had to put your hands on his chest in order to breathe.
his blue eyes were looking into yours and there was nothing in them but love. you cradled his face in your hands and rubbed his wet cheeks with your thumbs.
“i love you, too, j. i didn’t mean to say that you don’t care about me, i’m sorry. i was just mad and i-“
“it’s okay,” he interrupted you and pecked your lips once, “i know. and i’m really sorry about last night. i was jealous and drunk, i shouldn’t have done that. i know that you’re not mine and that’s not how i should-“
“i’m yours,” you mumbled on his lips, which curled up into a smug smile.
“yeah?” you nodded, “i’m yours, too.”
you gently grabbed his shirt in your hands and began to slowly walk backwards to your front door.
“wanna show it to me?” you smirked at him.
and he didn’t waste another second without showing you how much he loves you.
3K notes · View notes
causenessus · 4 months
Text
Dating Them. | Haikyuu
inc. akaashi, bokuto, oikawa, iwaizumi, sugawara, kageyama, kuroo
written in 2nd pov (female reader implied)
song recc: i got carried away and gave them all a song but i can't help myself so if u want another one, loverboy by a-wall
word count: 3105 words
summary: "what does dating them look like?"
i love them all sm <3 hopefully these all make sense!! tysm to @luvring for sending me down a deep retrograde with rex orange county whom i almost chose to link a song to for everyone but then narrowed it down to just oikawa <3 also almost put in we & us for akaashi but freaked out 💃 pls check out this post by her that inspired me!! it was so sweet
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akaashi
even if my heart stops beating you're the only thing i need with me even if the earth starts shaking you're the only thing worth taking even if the sky's on fire got you here, it's alright
looks like little gifts and notes left for each other everywhere
lunches made for the other left in lockers and on desks with little love notes <3
tell me he wouldn’t end every note to you with a little " ♡ ᵕ̈ " i dare you
you both handwrite the notes because texts are for losers
unless ofc one of you is out of town and you’re separated
then there are good morning and goodnight and i miss you texts
ending with ୧⍤���💐 and ᴖ̈ emojis
you both are very busy people so you just try to make sure the other is taken care of and knows they’re loved until you guys see each other again <3
dates are always lovely with him but the best part of them is when you guys get to go home
when it’s late at night and one of you is between the legs of the other, laying against their chest as you both do your individual things or something together
since life is so hectic it’s nice to just have these quiet moments in each other's presence <3 all he needs is to be around you and he doesn’t need anything else
there's definitely so many intimate and domestic moments with him
getting home from games used to be one of the worst parts of playing volleyball but you’ve made him look forward to it 
he loves to call or text you on the way home <3
if you’re able to stay at his house and be there when he gets home even better !!
you’re always taking care of him, making him something to eat or cleaning him up <3
how you guys started getting interested in each other?
I think at first sight you were curious about each other but one specific interaction sealed the deal <3
akaashi for sure knows so many random facts and how things work and most of the time when bokuto says something, it’s incorrect and akaashi will correct him <3
one afternoon when you three were together, bokuto was rambling about something he thought was impossible and threw a look towards akaashi, “and i don’t want to hear a ‘well, actually’ from you, there’s no way i'm wrong. if we're building things on earth that means more stuff on it and so it's getting heavier.”
akaashi only smiled, looking at his fingers as he played with them, “yes, but everything we're making those buildings out of already existed on the earth prior to–”
bokuto groaned, hands in his hair as he bent over, “no way! you know too much akaashi, I don’t even know if that’s a good thing or not” 
you let out a small laugh at the exchange. you wanted to add something but your chest tightened with anxiety, fearing that it would reveal how you truly felt. however, it slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, “i actually like it, i think it’s really cool that you know so much, akaashi-san. i admire it.”
bokuto, still bent with his arms on his legs immediately turned his head towards you with sharp eyes and brows raised, a teasing smile on his face
akaashi, on the other hand, had turned slightly red, his lips stuck between wanting to smile and trying to play off the compliment as if it hadn’t made his heart stop for a second
you’re cheeks had also warmed, realizing that if bokuto immediately got it through his thick skull (with love ♡) there was no way akaashi hadn’t
since he’s quiet by nature, the sweetest thing for him is someone who will really listen to what he has to say and the fact that you found it interesting just topped it all off <3
bokuto
sweet talk everything you say it sounds like  sweet talk to my ears
looks like seeing each other in the halls and he brightens up, the world literally getting brighter as he sees you and he can’t stop the wide smile that spreads across his face <3
i think what he really needs is someone that matches his energy. you might be a little calmer than him due to the fact that you’re not jumping up and down but you’re just as happy, a smile wide on your face, eyes wide and you’re pushing through the crowd to get to him as well
if you are able to, you always come to his matches and it makes a difference in his playing <3
ofc before dating he was just as amazing as a player but now that he gets to see you while doing what he loves, there’s so much energy and happiness that wells up in him he ends up jumping higher and being more vocal
without a doubt he’s always looking up to you in the stands before every rally
it makes your heart stir, too, whenever he makes eye contact with you and you can’t help but smile and cheer with all the love in the world whenever you both meet eyes
whenever he’s home from a match, you bet that he’s heading to you as soon as possible if you allow him to
loves to collapse on you, strong arms wrapped around your waist and he rests his head on your stomach, body between your legs
will fall asleep so fast if you run your hands through his hair, loves it if you just comb through it from the front, pushing it back as they slide to the back of his head and then move back to the front to run through the strands again
even better if you talk to him as you love on him while he’s resting on you
hugs you tighter when you praise him, letting out a small sigh as he relaxes
“you did so well today, kou. ‘m so proud of you,” you hum.
“you mean it, baby?” he mumbles, face still buried into your shirt.
“i mean it. i would never miss any of your games if i can help it for the world, love.”
the last thing he can get out is an “i love you so much" before his eyes fall shut
oikawa
girl, if you want it there’s no good reason not to love if you want it
looks like keeping him company even when it’s three in the morning <3
he’ll hold you close or have you on his lap, arms wrapped around you when he’s up at night watching other team’s volleyball matches
loves to talk you through the plays as well if you have any questions
will take the time to pause the video and point out anything <3
“see what they did here? they purposely left an opening in the block for the libero to cover. it corners the spiker either way,” he spoke softly, a small smile on his face as he explains the tactic to you.
“i think i understand. you guys have done that before too, right?” you nod, eyes focused on the screen as you lean to the side, resting your head on his shoulder
he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, “we have, pretty. i didn’t think you paid so much attention.”
“of course i do!” you pouted, tilting your head to look slightly on him. 
he met your eyes with a teasing smile, “i’m only joking, princess. i see how hard you focus, you look super cute when you do, after all.”
you buried your face into his shoulder, too red to keep looking at him
you’re definitely a part of his squad (iwa, makki, matsu) even if you’re a grade below them
if you didn't already know them, he also definitely introduced you to the group as “his girl”
from then on out, you had four scary guard dogs should you ever need them <3
he’s glad to have someone so close to him that also gets along with his friends, so he’s happy as can be when you’re all hanging out
ofc also enjoys one on one time with u as seen above
after matches, you’re always loving on him, whether he won or lost
if he won, similar to bokuto, you’re praising him the whole way, pressing kisses to his forehead as he lays on you, completely content as he rests
if he lost, there’s no words exchanged between you two until he’s ready. it’s not that words will lead to anything bad, but you know what will help him. you know that for him, he’ll recover with time. after he’s thought about it, he’ll express all his feelings and emotions to you, so you only need to wait for him to be ready. in the meantime, you’ll love on him and make sure he takes care of himself. you’ll stay with him so that he knows he’s not alone and when he’s ready, you caress his face, softly wiping his eyes whenever they tear up and listen to anything he wants to say <3
iwaizumi
my baby here on earth showed me what my heart was worth so when it comes to be my turn could you shine it down here for her?
looks like giving you gifts everytime he sees you
probably actually started with you giving him gifts all the time first <3
def friends to lovers i can see it
when you started giving him gifts, it stirred something inside of him and his friends kept telling him that you definitely liked him back
he was still unsure tho bc we’re talking a man with a whole fan club and two other men who have nothing better to do but tease other people so how trustworthy is their advice really
but he wanted to be hopeful so he started getting you things too (credit to makki & matsu, best wingmen)
because your relationship with iwa was 100% friends to lovers, said wingmen + whatever oikawa is definitely supported you both and were trying to play cupid
makki and matsu helped iwa find out what you liked without making it obvious and since he was too nervous to ask you on his own
also tried to inconspicuously ask if you were interested in anyone in which you immediately turned red and hid your face
the two boys turned to each other with a smirk because they knew they were definitely right
they probably got you to plan a confession to iwa, swearing on their lives that iwa liked you back
(makki and co. also definitely found a way to listen to it all go down and probably even recorded it)
as soon as you guys start dating he’s all over you <3 probably beats you to buying something most of the time but you still try to buy him things as often as you can
i think he’d adore flowers from you <3 they’re some of the sweetest things you can get them
mad dog respects you as an extent of his respect of iwa
definitely lots of words of affirmation in your relationship too
after the spring high semifinals you were in his lap, letting him hide his face in the crook of your neck as his whole body shook
you rubbed the back of his head with one hand, the other placed on one of his arms which were wrapped around you,
“i just want you to know how proud i am of you, hajime. i could hear you everytime you brought up your team. you did so well. you taught them so much. you’re so observant, you’re so strong. i couldn’t be more proud of you, love.”
he tightened his hold on you, and you felt his tears on your neck. “i know. i know it hurts a lot, baby. i’m here for you,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his head.
sugawara
she said i dressed in your favorite  i bought two bottles of red unless you made reservations oh look, you thought all ahead
looks like mothering his flock of children with him and taking care of him after he has taken care of the rest <3
lots of resting on each other’s shoulders throughout the day bc you both are so tired
whenever you guys are on dates, his favorite parts are always the train ride back home, he loves the gentle rocking of the train that lulls you both to sleep as you lay on each other, there’s just something so safe and intimate about it
ofc he loves doing things with you and you both try to spoil each other rotten, surprising each other with gifts and dates
some of your favorite dates to go on are just walks around outside
you guys take turns finding different locations to travel to just so that you guys can admire the beauty together
can u imagine? two pretty people walking around in pretty nature?? it’s too much <3
he loves walking in the winter at night because most of the time you guys will get to see pretty lights too!!
and if u get cold he gets to give u his jacket so two birds w/ one stone
if he’s feeling generous he’ll invite one of the children to walk with you guys while looking at christmas lights
it’s different every time
one night it was hinata, bundled warm in jackets and bouncing around between you and suga
another night it was kageyama, as calm and collected as ever but he enjoyed looking at the lights with you guys
you definitely bought him hot chocolate bc you couldn’t handle the parental love bubbling in your heart for the boy
(mama y papa?--)
but you both were def alone on christmas night when he took you out to walk in the middle of the city, where pretty lights shined at every angle and in every direction <3
he can’t help but kiss you a lot whenever he sees your pretty lips
and you love to kiss his little beauty mark below his eye <3
whenever he’s playing in games, you’re always cheering the loudest
afterwards you’re always flooding him with compliments too once you’re both home or through text message if he’s on the bus ride back
“u always notice so much during matches!! whenever u get in you always have something to tell everyone it’s so cool :000”
“and when you spiked, love, you did so good. we were all freaking out in the stands bc you had just been shut down before and you still went through with it completely!!!”
he'll smile at your energetic messages before replying with his own,
“thank u thank u <3 i can only do so well because i have my own personal cheerleader”
“I’ll see you soon, ok? we’re almost back to school, i love you so much, angel”
if his teammates hadn't drilled it into his head already how much he meant to them, your messages alone would make it worth it <3
kageyama
i wonder if you look both ways when you cross my mind... can i get a kiss? and can you make it last forever?
looks like dates to the milk vending machine and walking together around school <3
he’s already waiting outside your class during breaks and when lunch starts
you step through the door and jump when you see him
“tobio? how are you already here? class just ended?”
“...do you wanna go to the vending machines with me?”
“did you leave early?”
he averts his eyes immediately, trying to think of an excuse but you just sigh to yourself and start to walk, “what am i going to do with you? let’s go before class starts.”
“i wanted to see you,” he mumbles, eyes lowered to the floor and his cheeks dusted pink as he follows after you
your eyes widen at the response and you almost trip over your feet before you smile and lean closer to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek
“i love you too, tobio.”
he’s another boy you’re constantly fighting with to pay for things
sometimes you’re racing to the machine because you’re so desperate to buy him something but there’s no way you’re winning against him even if he gives you a headstart
you work hard to take care of him, though, and you have your ways of getting back at him even if he ends up paying at the vending machine
he’s so horrible at taking care of himself, especially with the amount of times he stays late to practice with hinata
you started to sneak milk cartons and eventually meals into his bags so that he’ll at least be fed
definitely lots of study dates between you both as well, you’re singlehandedly carrying his grades rn
but it’s worth it when you see him on the court <3
he tends to look at you before every serve, and you can feel your heart buzz whenever he makes eye contact with you
seeing him work so hard in volleyball and have so much fun, you can’t help but fall in love with him all over again, and you’ll do anything you can to help him and make sure he can achieve his dreams <3
kuroo
you wanna go out, i wanna finish living you wanna get up, when i could just lay all day, with you
looks like showing up at your door whenever he feels like it either to take you out or to be at home with you <3
after the first time he insisted that he walk you home and you let him, he started visiting you more often
ofc you let him in everytime, you were glad he was the one making moves because you wanted to be around him more, you just didn’t know what to say
when you both started officially dating, you also obviously put in more effort to show that you appreciate him and love to be with him
but he’s always more than happy to be the one to come to you as long as he knows you enjoy it as much as he does
speaking of which he’d really do anything for you
if he’s not already there, you could ask him to at two in the morning and he’d be there as soon as he could <3
especially if you text him something like “i had a nightmare” or “i can’t sleep” he’s over there in a blink of an eye
“alright, princess. are we staying up or should i tire you out?”
🧍
😳
anyway
he’s making any excuse to be close to you
he’s probably helped you in a few subjects if you were struggling with the material
ofc in exchange for kisses <3
he’s surprised when you come to his games, i feel like he’s probably not used to having a lot of people come to cheer him on and he doesn’t want to bother you about having to come to gymnasiums to watch him
but you come of your own free will and it makes him smile, he’s more than ready to crush his opponents to show off for you <3
after games, you’re throwing yourself into his arms as soon as you get to him and he’ll catch you with just as much adrenaline and excitement running through his veins at the sight of you <3
961 notes · View notes
sunflowersteves · 11 months
Note
can you write about carmy & readers first time after getting engaged 🥹
omg omg omg fiancé carmy just does it for me ok? and ik for a fact that the man wouldn’t wait once you got home. also I couldn’t find a picture of the ring I wanted so just pretend.
warnings || fluff, established relationship, SMUT, soft sex, riding, mention of oral sex, 18+ only
masterlist
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You looked down at the small diamond ring that was garnished with two rubies on a sparkling gold band.
You were smiling so brightly that your cheeks started to desperately ache. The stones glistened, and you felt in awe as your chest fluttered with adoration. 
Your admiration for the ring had stopped as Carmen’s voice rang through your ears. “Are you sure you like it?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and head down, looking at the delicious food he had made. His left leg was bouncing up and down as the thoughts piled one over the other. 
Carmen had asked you that same question about four to five times now. He asked you once after you said yes, two in the car ride, and one while walking up the stairs of your apartment complex.
Despite your reassurance—sometimes too much in a daze of staring at your hand to realize he had even asked you a question—Carmen still couldn’t quite get it into his head that you said yes. 
It was as if his head was still in a jumbled mess—still sweating and knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. His heart couldn’t stop thumping against his chest, and anxiety-filled thoughts rushed over another. The nagging feeling that he doesn’t deserve this and that he doesn’t deserve you had taken over his brain.
His entire speech happened in such a blur with his stuttering sentences and shaky voice. He watched as your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you shouted, “Yes!” It took him a moment to realize your response—his eyes slowly blinking with his mouth parted open to then at lightning speed getting up off of the ground and crashing you into a hug. It just all felt so real. 
You stand up from your end of the table and walk over to him, taking the spoon that he’s frantically tapping in his hand out from his reach. “Baby,” You coo, pressing your palm against his cheek.
It was the most obvious thing in the world to you. You couldn’t stop staring at it since he put it on your ring finger, but you knew that he just needed a little encouragement to swat those thoughts away. “What’s going on?”
Carmen had proposed. Richie had called you saying there was an emergency at The Bear. Of course, he failed to mention that everyone was okay. You rushed to the restaurant in a frenzy, grabbing the bare minimum and speeding down the highway roads.
When you arrived, you practically jumped out of the car and ran inside. Your brain had thought of the worst possible outcomes—a burned-down restaurant and hurt people. It was sending you into a spiral. 
But then, your heart stopped at the view in front of you. This time, the thumping of your heart was pure elation (minus the mental note to yell at Richie later). The entire restaurant had been closed, and a small candle-lit table had been set up—rose petals trailing across the concrete floors. 
Carmen and Richie were arguing but they didn’t see you quite yet. “You didn’t even fucking tell her anything?” Carmen huffed.
Richie just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “No, you fuckin’ bitch. I just said there was an emergency.”
Carmen’s hands exploded around him, an unlit cigarette between his middle and index finger. “Are you fucking serious right now, cousin? She’s probably freaking the fuck out—an emergency? Fuck—” Richie just rolled his eyes and shrugged, but then his eyes locked with yours and a huge smile spread across his lips. The rest went in a blur, and before you know it, Carmen got down on one knee. 
“I-I just—I don’t know. I wanna make sure that I’m doing this right.” His eyes finally look into your own. Your heart just about stops at the sadness that’s swimming through them. 
“Carmy, baby,” You moved his chair back, wooden legs sliding against the hardwood floor. You climbed onto his lap, legs on either side of him. You pressed a hand to his chest, and you gently rubbed your thumb against his soft, white t-shirt. 
His hands rest on your hips, and they squeeze the soft, plushy flesh. He let out a content sigh, some of the anxiety already dissipating from his thoughts.
He wants everything perfect, just for you. The irony of it all is that you do think everything’s perfect. Everything is always perfect with him.
“Let me see, bebita.” Tina couldn’t stop smiling, taking a glance over at you staring at your ring. You were waiting for Carmen to finish talking with Natalie before leaving the restaurant. Tina had found you, staring happily at your finger. 
She cursed under her breath, eyes widening.“Ay, coño—” She continued to watch the small diamonds sparkle underneath the kitchen lights.
Then, she smiled. She looked at you, and she had the biggest smile on her face. You make Carmen so happy, and he knows he makes you happy.
She was truly excited for her friends. “You know, this was Mikey’s ring. It was their grandmother’s or some shit, but—” She pauses, smiling right at you. “It was definitely his.”
Your eyes widened, mouth agape. “What?”
“You’re perfect.” You say, looking into his ocean eyes. “You’re doing everything right.”
He searches for something. He searches for anything. Any doubt, guilt, lying—literally anything. He continues to stare at your beautiful face, looking from the plump of your cheeks to the curve of your lips. 
His eyes look back up to yours. Nothing. He found nothing but pure love and adoration between your irises. He choked out a sound. It was garbled and whimpering. It made your heart clench. 
“Carmen—” Before you could even react, his lips devoured yours. You gasped against him before melting completely, hands going into his messy hair. His hands scaled your body in a passionate frenzy, desperation hitting his gut to pull you even closer to him. 
You moaned against him as his tongue pushed through your lips and into your mouth, swirling and tangling with one another. His hand went to cup your cheek; it was so gentle and sweet—the action made affection swirl in your chest. 
He parts from you, only for a moment. “Please. I need—I need to be inside you.” Another breath-stealing kiss, lips molding against yours. “You’re so—you’re so perfect, baby. N-need you.” He pants out. 
“Fuck, Carmy.” Your hands move to fumble with his belt. He continues to kiss you, lips smearing against your jaw and chin. Jittery, your hands bumble around and finally find the button to his pants. You shuffle them down his thighs, letting out a moan at the sight of a bulge in his boxers. 
“Carmy—” You whine. His fingertips graze your shoulder and lift the spaghetti strap of your dress. “Please.” You feel dazed and desperate. You feel a burning sensation sprout from your chest, and it ignites across your entire being. 
He helps you out of your dress, and his hands fumble with the back of your bra. Meanwhile, you’re also fumbling with getting his boxers off. The position of sitting in the chair had made this much more difficult. “Baby, fuck.”
“Need you, Carmy.” You whine. It caused him to smirk down at you. Eventually, the two of you get all of your clothes off, discarding them somewhere on the floor. You were still straddling his thighs—kisses so sweet and passionate that they tingled against your lips. 
His cock was hard, leaking with some pre-cum, and it made you shudder. His eyes were half-lidded as he stared at you with hazy eyes. You position him to your entrance and slowly sink into him.
You both moan against one another, breathing in each other’s presence. Carmen’s head rolls against your shoulder, biting down at the clench of your walls. You start to ride him—hips rolling against his own. 
“Gonna—fuck—gonna make you my wife.” He breathes out. He watches the way you slick smears against his thighs and the way he disappears into your tight cunt. You loudly moaned against him at the affirmation of his—making you even wetter than before. 
“Wanna—wanna be your wife, Carmy.” You whispered against his soft skin. His lips lower to the perky bud of your nipple and swirled his tongue around the sensitive area. “Want—fuck me—want you to be my husband.”
You could feel his cock twitch at your words. His lips revert their way to where he really wants them—your lips. You whimpered at the feeling of him pushing you further.
The hand on your back was rough from calluses. The new position made you whine and cry, Carmen whispering sweet, sweet praises. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. My–my fuckin’ girl. Look at you, so-so good. Gonna make you my wife. My fucking wife.”
His words are what send you over the edge—the sweet praises and confirmations of his love became too much. “C’mon, pretty girl. Let go for me. Be a good girl and let go.”
With a loud moan, your walls spasm around his cock and gush all over him. You’re screaming his name like a prayer that won’t leave your lips. Your legs shake, unwilling to move any longer. He’s whispering to you again and again, but this time you weren’t listening. 
He was on the verge of an orgasm too, but there was a bigger, more primal need for him to do first. He watched as you slowly slid out of him and he started to press gentle kisses across your shoulder and neck.
He watches your eyes slowly come back to him, and he waits. “I love you, baby.” He says, pressing a kiss to your nose.
“I love you too, lovebug.” You say, a lazy smile curling your lips. You look down to see his hard cock against your thigh. You open your mouth to say something—wanting to take care of him, but he stops you with a shake of his head. 
“I’m gonna—I’m gonna eat you out. I need to taste you. I-I—” He stutters through his words, and the desperation settles on his chest. He needs to taste you on his tongue. He needs to hear the sweet sounds that escape your mouth as he eats his favorite meal. 
“Carmen. Fuck, yes.” 
The first night of being Fiancée’s with one another was going to be a very long night. 
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steddietogo · 1 year
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So. This is my own take on Steddie meet cute at the Grammys (gets a little thirsty in the middle for a second so warning I guess??)
———
The buzzing in his veins feel too much to contain in Eddie’s body, his cheeks ache from grinning too hard. He grabs Jeff by the shoulders to shake him and Jeff takes it without complain, too busy floating in his own cloud nine to do anything about it. All four of them are.
They’re being carted off from one interview to another, it’s all hazy in his mind, all he can think of is that they won a fucking Grammy.
“We’re here backstage with Corroded Coffin with their first ever Grammy from the best rock performance category,” the interviewer is saying, then he turns to face the band, and shit. Eddie has to sling an arm over Gareth to keep himself upright. “So how are you guys feeling right now?”
“It feels very validating to get the recognition for all our hard work—” and everything else Jeff says barely registers. Eddie is staring, he’s distantly aware of it. But he should hardly be blamed. The man before him is dressed in a deep caramel suit, jacket cinching around a trim waist and bubble gum pink lips stretched in a smile as he diligently listens to what his band has to say.
“— and Eddie, he’s really put his heart and soul in this song in particular,” the mention of his name unceremoniously drags him back to the land of the living where his bandmates know him too well and are actively trying to sabotage him before the sexy interviewer. Gareth is innocently blinking up at Eddie with his I’ve-never-done-anything-wrong-in-my-life eyes, urging him to speak.
“Um,” Um? Seriously? “Mob Mentality is an especially significant song to me personally—” Eddie’s given this spiel a hundred times, not that any word of it is untrue, but the practiced response lets him zone out just the right amount to fully drown himself in the shade of hazel of the interviewer’s eyes, imagine them looking up at Eddie from between his thighs, full of tears— goddamnfuckstopit.
The man must notice, because there’s a gorgeous smattering of pink dusting his cheeks Eddie could swear wasn’t there before.
After, Eddie is pretty much bodily dragged away from there, legs refusing to carry him away. He twists even as he’s walking, desperate to keep the man within his sights for even just a second longer. To keep him looking at Eddie, which by some miracle, he still is. And like an idiot Eddie waves, wiggling his fingers at him.
The man raises his own hand in return, and then he’s turning away, leaving Eddie to mourn the loss of his attention. But then he hears it— Steve. The camera guy calls him Steve. Sexy interviewer’s name is Steve. That in itself would be enough to sustain Eddie’s daydreams for some time.
———
Predictably, its all over social media the very next day. Or more accurately there’s one particular clip circling the net like there’s no tomorrow.
Eddie Munson simping for hot guy at the Grammys.
The comments were the worst (best) part. Eddie hasn’t dated since coming out to the public. And the fact that most of the comments people have about him openly showing interest in another man is just nonchalance or excitement makes him feel much better about it.
Eddie’s heart skips as he sees the face from last night in the clip, looking even more gorgeous than in his dreams if it were even possible. And then there is also Eddie in those clips, practically undressing him with his eyes, right there in public. He looks like he wants to open him up and lick him like melted chocolate in a wrapper.
Eddie was so screwed.
———
Top comments:
user 80085: that man is stronger than me because I don’t think I’d survive Eddie Munson looking at me like that
CorrodedFC: Eddie Munson Rendered momentarily speechless? by an interviewer?? More likely that you think
you_call_me_munson: they need to date. Right this second or I’m stealing one of the hotties for myself
———
Part II
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luveline · 7 months
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i have a request idea! maybe aaron x reader where the reader is bullied/ being maltreated by her roommates like that one remus headcanon you filled? i love protective hotch but i get it if you don’t think this goes with him! your fics give me sm comfort thank you for writing them <3
thank you my love. fem, 1.5k
cw bullying/ unfriendly roommates
You can't believe it's Aaron's car. No way is his timing this bad. There's just no way he's home from a case, that he's chosen to visit without calling first, today. Right now. 
He's out of the car before you've so much as wiped your cheeks dry. You've never seen him park that fast. 
"What are you doing out here?" he asks, looking you up and down. "Let me help you up, sweetheart." 
Sweetheart so soon after seeing you —you must look terrible. You take his hand and stand up off of the floor, unperturbed as he brushes down your butt and thighs. 
"Why are you sitting on the floor?" he asks, soft, "It's wet, honey, you're crying– What's wrong?" 
You remember suddenly that you have someone on your side. Shaking, you tuck your arms under his and cross them behind his back, the fabric of his suit jacket familiar under your trembling fingers. You feel like a kid again at the mercy of other people's cruelty, but this hasn't been something you could run away from. The meanness takes root at home. But now Aaron's here and he's holding you, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head delicately, his voice a murmur as he reassures you, "It's alright." He presses his cheek to the plane just adjacent to your eye. "Honey, please don't cry." 
"They smashed my vase," you say into his chest. 
"Who?" 
"My roommates, Aaron, they don't– don't like me." The vase was a gift. Special to you, irreplaceable, you've brought it safely from one place to another without ever having broken it. It was in the kitchen, housing your most recent bouquet of flowers from Aaron. "Macy said it fell over, but they were laughing, and they said the same thing about my bag, my– my sketchbook. They keep ruining my things, they throw away my food, and they laugh at me all the time, even when I'm not doing anything. I know they are."  
The laughing is honestly the worst part. Like your reaction isn't even worth considering, it doesn't bother them that you're upset, they just giggle and tell you to feel better. Sometimes they apologise like it wasn't them. Sorry about that, maybe don't leave it somewhere it could get ruined? with a smile that hardly counts as sympathetic. 
"How long has this been happening?" he asks. 
Months. "Since we met, at least." 
Aaron makes a noise you don't understand. You wait for him to say more, but he only rubs your back diligently for a time before ushering you into the car. A bag of takeout has gone cold in the passenger seat, the backseat busy with his go bag and a new bouquet. He's very, very good to you. 
In the car, he reaches across the console to fret over you, stroking your damp cheeks and rubbing your shoulders. You feel as though all your energy has been stolen. All you can do is lean into his hand as he wipes away your quiet tears. 
Hotch watches you cry in his passenger seat and feels pretty angry. It's not often like him to turn to anger when the people he cares about are upset. He's more of a problem solver. But when it's as bad as it is now, he doesn't bother restraining himself. 
He knew there was something about your roommates that you weren't telling him. Obviously, as the partner in the relationship who doesn't have roommates, Hotch hosts the majority of your 'sleepovers'. It's easier and awards more privacy most of the time, and honestly, he's not at the age where he's very interested in bumping into people on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He'd prefer to be home, and much prefer to have you there. 
He was wondering about asking you to move in, but there never seemed to be a good time, and right now your answer would likely be influenced by the insecurity of your home rather than true desire to live with him. He knows one day, he'll ask, and one day you'll say yes, (or he hopes), and so he keeps it in mind but otherwise proposes a temporary arrangement. 
"Let's go get some of your things and you can stay with me for a few days," he says. 
"Are you sure?" you ask. "What about Jack?" 
"He'll be happy for the company. Trust me." 
Hotch isn't shallow, but he likes being that little bit taller than you, and he's no brute, either, but he knows he's intimidating at times. He'd never use his position to scare private citizens in civilian disputes, but seeing the amusement in the eyes of your  roommates turn to nervous recognition when he follows in behind you makes his day. 
She's not alone, he thinks, putting his hand to your back. 
He might put their behaviour down to jealousy. Not so much that they wish they were with Hotch, there's hardly been any desire for him coming from either woman, but your happiness. You're a nice girl, a good girl, good in the sense that you don't need to knock others down to be happy. He treats you accordingly. 
He pointedly doesn't greet them as you show him the corridor down to your room. Your door is ajar, which he doesn't like, but you don't say anything about your things. 
"What do you need?" he asks.
"How long will I stay?" 
"However long you need to. If you want time to feel better while we manage this, or you need to move. I'm with you." He again thinks of the lack of a lock. "I'd say bring your valuables, honey. So nothing miraculously breaks." 
He ends up packing for you. He knows you well, and he's more than aware of what you'll need to survive for a week. What clothes, which pyjamas you favour, even your skincare. He has a career in identifying small details, but it's a better duty knowing you so well. He does that for fun. 
You stop by the door and turn into his side, hesitant to leave. He hates seeing you wilted, usually so bright. "They're talking about me." 
Your roommates are indeed whispering in the kitchen and Hotch would bet money that you're correct, but he doesn't want to encourage that line of thought. It could easily become a seed of doubt that leaves you anxious and paranoid. 
"I'd hope they were discussing their own bullying," he says. 
You rest your forehead on his arm. "What did I ever do to them?" 
"You're happy. You're grateful and loving, and some people can't stand it. They can't rope you into their misery," he guesses. "Have you considered the possibility that you're a bad roommate?" 
You laugh into his jacket reluctantly. "You know I'm not."
"Maybe you behave with me," he says, rubbing the top of your shoulder. Your laughter draws a silence in the kitchen. Hotch can't help himself. "Don't forget to turn your security camera on before we leave," he says, holding a finger over his lips. 
You smile. "Oh, I almost forgot about that." 
Your roommates aren't so full of cheer as you go. At least without a lock on the door, Hotch can be confident that his… bending of the truth will buy your possessions a few more days of safety. You don't have to tell your roommates that you're leaving, evidenced by your bags, but Hotch is feeling awful, and he says, "Do you have your bathing suit? Your passport's in the bag." 
"What is wrong with you?" you whisper through laughter as the door closes behind you both. "I had no idea you were this quick to tell lies." 
Hotch pulls your bag further up his arm to take your hand. "I wasn't lying about anything, your passport is in the bag, and I asked a question. If that question implies that you're about to have a fun weekend, that's coincidental." 
He doesn't want your roommates thinking they have any power over you. Not an inch of it. And he doesn't want you thinking that they do either, knee deep in plans for the forthcoming days. He's going to spoil you to death if he can, starting with a new vase for your waiting flowers, and a good squeeze on the way down to the car to prompt you into relaxing. 
"Sorry about all the fuss," you say. 
He kisses you twice. "Don't think of it that way." Rather boss-toned, he softens, "I'll deal with anything for you. I'm sorry they've been cruel." 
You exhale. He can tell from the tug of your eyebrows that it's partly for his benefit, and the more lax set of your shoulders that it's partly genuine as you brush it off. "Doesn't matter. Just an excuse to spend more time with you, yeah?" 
"Yes," he says immediately. "You're right, honey. Exactly right." Starting with one of his clumsy neck massages and a much more practised kiss, he thinks. 
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