#I have a few wines that I tend to go for that are always nice a multipiciano is one of those | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bookyeom · 9 months

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A/N: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and a special Merry Christmas to my boo @gyuminusone. This is my Christmas gift to you!! I hope you have the best holiday, M! Sending love across the country!!!

Parties and Pickup Lines

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader Genre: friends to lovers Rating: PG (because of the swearing.. i think that's the only reason? also alcohol consumption) Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: kissing, alcohol consumption, reader & squad celebrate Christmas somewhat traditionally (Westernized)? Um... there's a kiss and some swearing also

“Mingyu.” You drag out the last syllable of his name, aggressively dropping your head against his arm as he continues to carry on conversation with Joshua, your host for the evening. He had hosted a dinner party that, in true Joshua Hong fashion, was full of expensive and foreign wines. It was great, but now you’re sufficiently tipsy, tired, and ready to go home, and Mingyu and Joshua just won’t shut up.

“Are you giving her a ride?” Joshua nods in your direction and you narrow your eyes at him from your place against Mingyu’s side. All he does is smile back.

“Yeah,” Mingyu responds with a dramatic sigh, and you can feel him shift as he turns to look down at you. You want to lift your head to glare up at him, but you’re tired.

“Of course you are,” Joshua quips. “Don’t know why I even asked.” He’s teasing, and you can’t see Mingyu’s reaction, but you imagine he uses his free hand to flip the other man off.

You’re used to it — the way everyone teases you and Mingyu. Sure, you’re a little bit in love with him, but isn’t everyone? Sure, you’re always together, and you take care of each other, and sure, every time he looks at you, or smiles at you, or laughs because of you, you feel yourself falling just that little bit more. Sure, the two of you might be on the edge of something more than friends, but you don’t know what, and you don’t know how to get there.

All you know is that right now, you want to go home.

Mingyu finally stands up from the couch, pulling you with him while bidding farewell to an amused Joshua. As he tugs you by the hand through the apartment towards the door, he calls out goodbyes to everyone you pass. You somehow manage a few hugs and waves yourself before you reach the exit, where Mingyu hands you your coat, and then you’re finally out in the fresh air.

“Our Uber is two minutes away,” he informs you.

You nod and regretfully let go of his hand, pulling your gloves from your coat pocket and squinting down at your fingers as you clumsily put them on. You can feel him watching you as you wait, and you meet his eyes. The corner of his mouth turns up when you catch him looking, and you can’t help but stick your tongue out at him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you manage — quite smoothly if you do say so yourself — but all he does is smile bigger.

“I have lots of those.”

You gasp. “Blackmail is a crime.”

He ignores you and looks away, eyes scanning the road for your ride as he says, “It’s not my fault that you’re so nice to take pictures of.”

You stare at him, and even in your tipsy state, you feel it again — the overwhelming affection that blooms in your chest. You want to push him on it, you want to know, but for the millionth time, you can’t seem to get the words out. So you say nothing as your Uber arrives and drives the two of you back to your place.

Your apartment is basically Mingyu’s second home, and the same goes for you with his. “It’s just easier, convenient to know someone on the other side of town when you need to crash,” is the excuse you tend to use the most. You never say that it has a lot more to do with the way he looks in your kitchen in the morning as he makes your coffee, or the way he always makes you take his bed while he sleeps on the couch, or the way he knows exactly where you keep the popcorn for movie nights.

He knows where you keep everything else, too — makeup remover included.

“I personally don’t care if you take your makeup off or not,” Mingyu points out from his spot by your bathroom door, “but you are going to care in the morning, and I am going to be on the receiving end of your wrath if I don’t make you do it now.”

“Well then, help me,” you say, and it comes out as a whine. You’re too tired to care, and you say as much. You miss the way Mingyu’s entire being softens when you pout dejectedly, exhausted, and lean back against the mirror from where you sit on the counter. He lets out a dramatic sigh, but you know you’ve won when he moves to stand in front of you.

“Sit up,” he instructs, reaching over your shoulder to open the cupboard above the mirror as you do what he says. He’s careful not to hit your head with the door as he takes out your makeup wipes, doting as always. You watch as he opens the package while you sit there waiting, eyes intent on him and his movements. You try to stay still as he lifts a hand to your face, holding your breath as he gently begins to clean your makeup off. His free hand lifts to your chin to steady you after a moment, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You wish you could blame the alcohol for the intense desire you feel to just… kiss him, but it’s not the first time, and you’re sure it won’t be the last.

You realize it again, then, as you watch him — that your feelings for him run so irrevocably deep.

You don’t know how long it takes as he stands between your legs, thoroughly cleansing your face with gentle motions. Once or twice, he catches you staring; the first time, he teases you, and the second, he pulls a face that’s meant to make you laugh (it works). When he announces that he’s done, adding on something about how grateful you should be for his hard work as he leans down to find your trash can, you can’t help it.

Your hands have a mind of their own. As soon as he straightens from throwing the cloth into the trash, they gently find his face, and he stills. He doesn’t pull away. He just waits, eyes wide and imploring, and you let his silence spur you on. You don’t say anything as you begin to map his features out with your fingertips, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire time. The high of his cheekbones, the beauty mark on the very edge of his nose; his mouth, lips softly parting as you brush over them, barely noticing the breath he’s holding as you do.

“You are so beautiful,” is what finally breaks the silence. “I think about you and how beautiful you are all the time.” It’s you that says it, and it takes you a second to register that you said it out loud. You vaguely register an alarm going off in your brain, a loud fuck! Fuck! Fuck! in quick succession, but you don’t take it back, because it’s true.

Mingyu blinks, staring back at you for a few moments before he finally looks away.

“Thank you,” he says as he grasps onto your wrists to pull your hands away from his face. “And you’re drunk.”

“Both of these things can be true,” you quip, and he lets out a laugh at that.

“Come on, brush your teeth. I’m not doing that part for you.”

A week passes, and you’re not avoiding Mingyu, per se, but you’re not not avoiding him, either.

The morning after your slip-up, when you wake up sober and embarrassed, you think maybe you’ve fucked up your friendship for good. You get a text from him, explaining that he’d gone to the gym and that he’d text you later, and all seems relatively normal — everything except for the fact that you’d blatantly ogled him and called him beautiful to his face the night before. He doesn’t say anything else about it.

Throughout the week, his texts seem to be coming in slower and fewer, though you imagine that might have something to do with the short and accidentally-on-purpose delayed responses from you. He hasn’t asked, and you’re grateful. Thankfully, your work had actually been a welcome distraction in the daytime since you were rapidly approaching a deadline. You had only needed to fill your evenings so that you weren’t thinking about him. Today is Friday though, and that means another work week is over — and another holiday festivity is waiting for you at Seokmin’s.

Unfortunately, your feelings for one of your closest friends are waiting for you there, too.

You don’t know if it’s better or worse that Mingyu is already a few drinks deep when you arrive.

He greets you at the door as if the place is his own, ushering you in before pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug. You sink into him, eyes squeezing shut briefly before he pulls away, eyes bright as he holds you by the biceps.

“Hi!” He beams. “I missed you.”

That thing in your chest shifts and jumps around as he smiles at you. You are my favourite person in the entire world, you think. And I have no idea what to do about it.

“I missed you, too.”

You had wondered if Mingyu would notice the space you’d taken from him over the week, the space you’d needed to try and gather your feelings, but if he had, he doesn’t show it. He’s just Mingyu, who stays close to you the whole night while remaining the life of the party. Tonight, he doesn’t comment when you don’t return his physical touches or flirtations. You wonder if it’s because of the alcohol or just how excited he is at the idea of Christmas being so close — because Mingyu usually notices everything, especially when it comes to you.

You finally get a reprieve when he’s called into the kitchen to help clean up a spill, and you let out a sigh as you sink further into the couch cushions. You would never have the heart to ask him for the space you need, not when you know how affectionate he always is, but at least you can breathe a little right now. He hasn’t said a word all night about last weekend, and you’re not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

“Gyu said you had a busy week. You okay?”

You’re startled when Seokmin plops down next to you.

“Yeah,” you affirm, smiling tiredly over at your friend. “But the project is finally over now.”

“Congrats!” Seokmin lifts his glass in a toast, and you lift your wine glass to clink it with his. His eyebrows furrow as he eyes your drink. “Isn’t that the exact same amount of wine you had an hour ago?”

“No.”

You’ve never been a good liar.

“What’s up? You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want it, obviously. No sober shame here.”

You laugh at that. “Yeah, thanks, Seok. I know.”

He continues to look at you, and you wish this was one of those times that Seokmin decided to let something go, but you’re not so lucky. Curse him for loving his people so much.

“You sure everything’s okay?”

You get distracted when your eyes catch a glimpse of Mingyu as he pops his head out of the kitchen to call for Seungcheol, and they linger on the doorframe long after he’s gone.

“Ah.”

“Hm?” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks flushing at being caught.

Instead of teasing like you’d expected, Seokmin’s smile is gentle. “You should tell him.”

You almost drop your wine. “Seokmin—“

You don’t get a chance to say anything else because Mingyu reappears over the back of the couch, his arms lazily hanging around Seokmin’s shoulders as he rests his cheek on the other boy’s head.

“Can we go home? I’m tired,” he pouts.

You don’t hesitate for a second.

You stand up with a nod, all wariness from the moment in your bathroom last weekend flying out the window as you take his hand. Because this is what the two of you do. He takes care of you, and you take care of him. No questions asked.

“Bye, Seok,” you offer, and he sends you another smile as he lifts his glass. “Thanks for hosting.” He glances between the two of you, at your joined hands, and you shrug with a sad smile before turning to leave.

The walk to Mingyu’s from Seokmin’s isn’t very long. It’s cold, but you’ll manage. You feel warm all over from the way he refuses to let go of your hand, anyway.

“I love Christmas.”

You smile over at Mingyu, who’s been fairly quiet since you left Seokmin’s apartment.

“I know.” You squeeze the hand he has attached to yours, and he smiles back. You ignore the ache in your chest at the sight of it.

It’s quiet for another few minutes as you walk slowly down the sidewalk before he speaks again, pulling you to a stop and catching you entirely off guard with his words.

“What does Santa say to Mrs. Claus when she dresses up nice?”

You hold back a laugh. “What does he say, Gyu? Tell me.”

He giggles, and then with a wiggle of his eyebrows, he leans in close and he says, “‘Ho ho ho-ly shit, you look good’.”

“Incredible. Great joke.” You tug on his hand, hoping he’ll decide to keep following you — because you’re not getting his ass anywhere without him wanting to go — but he plants his feet even more and shakes his head.

“Wait,” he whines, “hang on. I’m Santa!”

You snort. “Of course you are,” you try to appease, gesturing for him to start walking. To your relief, he finally takes a few steps, but his hold on your hand only gets tighter.

“No,” he pouts, and you almost groan as he pulls you to a stop again. “I mean, I’m Santa in this story! And you’re Mrs. Claus!”

“Gyu, I’m not following. And it’s cold—“

“‘Ho ho ho-ly shit, you look good’,” he repeats the punchline, but this time, he uses his free hand to emphasize your outfit. “Do you get it now? I’m Santa and I’m saying that to you!”

You blink as you process. A pickup line?

All night, you’d managed to avoid… this, for the most part, because people were around and he was busy. Now, it’s just the two of you. Your body feels warm all over at the silly flirtation, at the insinuation, and you’re not sure how to respond. You don’t even get a chance to open your mouth, though, before he’s speaking again.

“I don’t care what Santa says… you’re at the top of my nice list.” He winks, pulling you in closer to him so quickly that you stumble a little. It’s freezing outside, but you suddenly feel far too warm.

“Can we please go home?”

Mingyu begins to giggle, and you half think he’s going to kiss you as he leans in. Then his forehead is falling into the crook of your shoulder, laughing into your scarf, arms sliding around your middle. You can’t do anything but hug him back while he calms down, your cheeks burning, until he stands up straight again and nods, smile still on his lips.

“I’m sleepy.”

You don’t know how you make it the rest of the way, but you do. When you arrive, you head into the bathroom to try and compose yourself.

“Hey!” Mingyu says abruptly, startling you when you exit his bathroom. He’s got his phone in his hands and he squints down at it, giggling to himself before meeting your expectant gaze. “Are you the Grinch?”

You blink. “Pardon?”

“Because you’ve stolen my heart.”

You groan, ignoring the tingling feeling that shoots through your entire body at the stupid line. “Get changed,” you order, turning around to give him — and yourself — some space. “Where the hell are you getting these from?”

“From my brain,” he attempts. When you don’t say anything, he admits, “from Soonyoung.”

“Can you tell Soonyoung to shut up so we can go to sleep?”

“We?”

You turn back in surprise to find him already in his bed, sheets pulled up around his waist. He’s beaming.

“Yeah,” you stammer, “you in here and me out there.” You jut your thumb in the direction of the living room, and Mingyu pouts again.

“Oh. Well, hang out with me in here for a bit longer, then.”

“Fine. Fifteen minutes.” You cave, moving to sit next to him on the bed, leaving as much space between you as you can.

Mingyu isn’t having any of it, though, as he rolls over and snuggles into your side. He holds up his phone, giggling, canines on full display as he wiggles his brows, before he says, “Mind if we take a picture? I need to show Santa exactly what I want for Christmas.”

“Remind me to kill Soonyoung for this.”

“Rude.” Mingyu is suddenly pouting, the change so quick that it takes you a second to process. “I asked him to send them. I wanted to tell them to you.”

Oh.

“I’m going to go to sleep,” is what you respond with, praying that he doesn’t notice how flushed your cheeks are as you stand up.

He catches you by surprise though, his fingers reaching for yours as he speaks, gently closing around them in an attempt to keep you close. “How come you won’t talk to me about it?”

You tilt your head in question. “Hm? Talk to you about what, Gyu?”

His eyebrows furrow, and his frown deepens. With a tug, he’s pulled you back onto the bed next to him, his arm thrown over your legs as he presses his face into your side. You let yourself tangle your fingers in his hair, just one more time.

“This,” he murmurs, squeezing you gently on your thigh.

“Huh?”

You can feel it when he hums against you. “Us.”

Your hand stills its motions against his scalp, and the blood rushes to your ears.

“I’ve given you so much space,” he continues, his voice so sad that your heart sinks even lower. “And I don’t know what else to do.”

“Mingyu—“

“Do you like me?” He interrupts, sitting up abruptly. His honey eyes are piercing as he asks it, as he delves as deep into your soul as he can go. You can tell he’s sobered up quite a bit as he looks at you, as he waits for your answer.

“Yeah, I do,” you finally say. It’s quiet, soft, but he hears you.

Mingyu tilts his head, voice low as he presses on. “And do you really think I’m beautiful?”

You feel your cheeks flush even deeper. “You are.”

Mingyu sits back, shoulders suddenly deflating. “Then why won’t you talk to me about it? Why do you keep it to yourself?” He looks away before he adds, quietly, “I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.”

His name comes out in a whisper. “Mingyu…”

He sighs, falling back down onto his bed and throwing an arm over his eyes. “Y/N,” he mumbles back.

You’re frozen. Your mind is racing, heart stumbling over itself as you search for the right words. You can’t find them. “Goodnight,” you say softly.

Mingyu nods, but he doesn’t look at you again as he responds, rolling over and away from you. “Goodnight.”

Needless to say, you don’t sleep very well.

Y/N [9:13am]: morning

Y/N [9:13am]: I had to go home to prepare for Jeonghan’s party. I didn’t want to wake you up

Gyu [9:47am]: you should have woken me up.

Gyu [9:52am]: I’ll see you there

You’re a bundle of nerves when you reach Jeonghan’s, every nerve standing on edge as you try and prepare yourself to see Mingyu. You know that tonight is the night – you can’t ignore what’s happening, not when he means so much.

You greet the rest of your friends, trying to play it cool. You follow Chan into the apartment and to the table, freezing when you catch sight of Mingyu. He’s got on an ugly, green Christmas sweater with bells attached, and his hair is gently falling across his forehead as he chats to Jeonghan. Everyone turns as you walk in, but your eyes can do nothing but find him first. All he does when he sees you is raise his glass in your direction in acknowledgement, before he’s turning back to his conversation. It hurts, but you can’t say you don’t deserve it.

I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.

His words replay in your mind over dinner and during the entire movie afterwards, where you happen to somehow be sat across from and beside anyone but Mingyu. It’s funny, you think, how you’re finally ready to face this, and you can’t even get close to him tonight.

The entire night, you can feel him watching you from across the room. Every time you look back, he just smiles a bit and looks away. He doesn’t go out of his way to try to come find you, and you can’t say that doesn’t hurt. Should you have stayed this morning? Should you have talked about it? Probably.

You miss him, but he’s in the same room.

I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.

You know you have to be the one to initiate this time – you know that he was vulnerable with you yesterday. It’s your turn now.

When the movie ends, Mingyu is the first to start cleaning up. You follow him into the kitchen, ignoring the stares from your friends as you practically trip over yourself to get to him.

“Mingyu.”

He turns around from where he’s placing dishes in the sink in surprise. “Hey.”

You take a deep breath, debating starting with small talk – but you can’t do it. “Will you come outside with me?”

His hands stop halfway to the sink when you blurt the words out, abrupt, and you hold your breath. You don’t know if you’re imagining how tense he is. You hate this. You’re sure you’re about to be sick when he doesn’t respond for a moment, before he nods and dries his hands off on a towel.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

When you step outside, the awkward silence continues. Then the two of you are speaking at once.

“Mingyu, I need to—“

“We should—“

You let out a nervous laugh, biting down on your lip, and gesture for him to go first. He looks down, kicking at the ground with his boot, but your eyes are rooted to his face. Snowflakes are getting stuck in his hair as they fall, his lip drawn between his teeth, and you can’t look away.

“Did you mean what you said last night?”

Your heart leaps into your throat. “I was the sober one, Gyu. Of course I do.” you try to joke to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“Did you say it just to shut me up, then?” His eyes fly to yours again, piercing. He’s tense, jaw clenched as he waits, and your stomach flips.

“Why would I do that, Mingyu?”

He shrugs. Then he shoves his hands into his pockets, the bells on his ugly Christmas sweater chiming as he does, and you’d laugh if you didn’t instantly recognize his reaction for what it is: a defence mechanism. A defence mechanism to protect him from you. You can practically feel your heart begin to shatter.

“If you meant it,” he says, voice soft and low, “then say it again.”

“Mingyu—“

You’re caught by surprise when he takes a step forward, cutting you off as he says, “I like you, and I need you to say it back right now if you meant what you said. If you don’t, I’ll never bring it up again, but I’m not going to keep guessing how you feel about me.”

“Of course I meant it.” The words come out so quickly, so desperately that you stumble over them a little. “I really, really like you, Mingyu. So much that I feel sick to my stomach about it sometimes.”

Another step closer. “So why did you leave this morning?” He doesn’t sound angry anymore. His voice is soft, almost uncertain. It’s you that closes the final step.

Your arms wrap around his waist and you pull him in tight, face muffled against his coat as you murmur, “I’m terrified about what this means for us.”

He moves back just enough to see you, hands finding your face. “What are you so scared of?”

“I don’t know.”

“I like you,” he says again, eyes intent on yours. Your eyes flutter shut as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “And you like me.”

You nod, your hands lifting to rest on his chest. “Yeah,” you whisper.

“I know you better than anyone else.”

You open your eyes, leaning back so that you can look at him this time. “You’re my favourite person in the world,” you say, and you watch as his smile begins to grow. You feel all sorts of giddy, fingers grasping the material of his coat tighter as he beams down at you.

“Yeah?” He teases, and your eyes fly to his mouth.

“Mhm.”

His expression grows serious again, eyes flickering across your face as he asks, “Do you want to give this a shot, then?”

You hope the kiss you press to his lips answers his question well enough.

A/N: please please please reblog if you liked! it's what us writers rely on :)

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staar5384 · 1 year

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champange problems

neuvillette x gn!reader

hurt/no comfort, they/them pronouns, light cursing

this is slightly based off of the song champagne problems by taylor swift🫶🏼

might consider a pt. 2 if people are interested:)

The Opera Epiclese was beautifully decorated from top to bottom. Assortments of Rainbow Roses adorned the hallways, Lumidose Bells hung like vines from the pillars. Stunning satin and silk tapestries dressed the walls in different shades of blue and purple.

Everyone there could tell something was going to happen, though no one knew what.

When the people of Fontaine received their invitations to the event, it did not state the reasoning for it. It was presented as a formal ball. People were expected to dress and act appropriately, and it was not a place for children.

As the guests arrived, they could see Chief Justice Neuvillette and the Hydro Archon Furina were sitting in the front row of the courthouse. They were chatting, glancing out at the crowd periodically, as if looking for someone.

Then you walked in.

Neuvillette arose from his seat and walked down to greet you. You smiled at your boyfriend, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” He said, grasping your hand as he brought you toward the seats he and Furina were sat in.

“I’m glad I could make it too! Everything here looks absolutely gorgeous,” You replied, following him.

Furina greeted you with a smile and a wave before moving from her seat to somewhere backstage.

“So what is this grand party for, hmm?”.

“Oh you’ll see soon enough my love,” He kissed your hand. “Just enjoy the atmosphere and the music. The Melusines should come around soon with refreshments, and the band is about to play.”

You nodded, leaning back into your chair and taking a deep breath. It was nice to have a moment to relax and enjoy yourself. You very rarely got that anymore thanks to your constant traveling, but the work was so fulfilling.

Just as Neuvillette said, the Melusines came out carrying trays of various drinks. One of them stopped in front of you two, two glasses of sparkling champagne was presented. “Just as you requested, Monsieur!” She said excitedly.

Neuvillette grabbed both the glasses, handing one over to you, “Thank you very much,” He smiled as she skipped away.

“This is different from the other drinks,” You gave him a smirk. “Was this requested specifically for me?” You had always been a fan of champagne, more than wine which tended to be the people’s preferred drink of choice.

“How could we throw a party without having everything my beautiful partner desires?” He kissed your temple with a gentle smile on his face.

You returned his smile and sipped the drink, “You also opted for champagne I see.”

“Ahh, I figured I could try to enjoy your favorite drink for a change.”

Neuvillette had never cared for champagne, he made that abundantly clear when you two began dating, but when he saw your face light up at the thought of him sharing your drink of choice, he knew it would all be worth it.

The two of you chatted for a while, catching up on how things have been on both your ends. You had recently returned from a trip to Inazuma, a country you had longed to visit for a while. You were given a commission there, and left about a month ago. You had only returned the day prior.

Neuvillette recounted many trials to you, one in particular standing out. He talked about Fatui Harbinger, Childe, a man you had met once before in Liyue when you were there for the Rite of Descension.

“Ahh I know Childe,” You commented. “We crossed paths briefly a few months ago. He almost sank the entirety of Liyue Harbor.”

“Oh?” Neuvillette raised his brow. “And how have I not heard about this?”

You giggled, “I forgot to be honest. It was so insignificant for me at the time. I left the Harbor only a few hours before to visit some of the ruins. Who would have thought that someone would try to wipe out the nation’s biggest city?”

Neuvillette chuckled, his eyes sparkling, “You tell me the most fascinating stories. I hope someday I can give you a memory as fun and beautiful as the ones you make.”

You felt your face heat up, “You’re such a flirt, Neuvillette.”

“Only for you darling.”

The band on stage began their show, the audience around them silencing. You glanced over and realized Furina had not returned to her seat.

Neuvillette placed his glass aside and rose from his seat. He planted a kiss on the top of your head, “Excuse me a moment.”

“But the music just started. You’ll miss it.”

“No worries dear, I’ll be back,” He took his leave, walking out the back doors.

You sighed, focusing your attention on the orchestral display in front of you. Just as you expected, the music was beautiful, as was everything else in the Opera Epliclese. If only you knew what the true reasoning behind this was.

Moments passed and both Neuvillette and Furina had yet to return. You contemplated searching for them both, but stopped when Furina walked up on stage.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen! It is quite the honor to be here tonight as we have such a lovely occasion to be celebrating!”

Whispers and murmurs flooded over the crowd. What could they possibly be trying to celebrate?

“Now, I know you all must be very confused. ‘Oh great Hydro Archon Focalors.’” You rolled your eyes. “What could we possibly be celebrating!’ I can hear your gears turning, and I can promise you this is an occasion none shall forget!”

From stage left, Neuvillette walked on. He almost looked nervous as he approached the front of the stage. Furina handed him the microphone and winked before hopping off to the side.

“Umm,” He spoke softly. “This isn’t really quite my thing, speaking about emotions and feelings and such, especially in front of a crowded room like this, but I believe this is something that should be shared,” His throat bobbed, his eyes flicking across the audience. “Emotions are not, and never have been, my strong suit. They are complicated, hard to understand, and feeling them is confusing,” He said. “But there is one person who has made these emotions less confusing. When I am around them, I don’t need to try to understand what I’m feeling.”

You knew instantly he was talking about you. The two of you had discussed his inability to comprehend human emotions a few times. You had helped him understand his initial feelings towards you, helped him learn to accept his love and care for you. All of these things he has accomplished was through your help, so he says.

His eyes locked with yours, and he gestured for you to join him on the stage. Hesitantly, you stood and made your way to him. The spotlight was bright and hot, making you sweat almost instantly.

Neuvillette took your hand in his, “I can’t think of anyone I would rather spend my life with.”

Your eyes widened. He was going to propose

He got down onto one knee, pulling out a velvet blue box. He opened it, and the ring inside was stunning. A sparkling blue crystal with a silver band. “My love, will you marry me?”

All eyes were on you at that moment as the audience eagerly awaited your response. You were at a loss for words. You loved Neuvillette, you truly did, but marriage? The thought had never crossed your mind, nor were you even truly ready to get married. You had so many more adventures to go on, so much more to see and do. Marriage would only tie you down and prevent you from experiencing those things.

Your heart throbbed, an ache filling you that you had never felt before. You stepped away from him, shaking your head with tears in your eyes, “I’m sorry, Neuvillette,” You watched his face drop. “But I can’t accept,” As you finished the sentence you rushed off of the stage and out of the room.

Neuvillette watched you leave, the ring box slipping from his hand, and landing onto the stage with a thud. The crowd began to whisper, a mix of emotion swirling throughout the room.

Furina, despite her love for the drama, immediately jumped in at seeing the distress on Neuvillette’s face, “Alright everyone, I believe that is all for this evening. Feel free to get some refreshments outside! Guards, if you could escort our guests out.”

One by one, each person began to leave until the only people inside were Furina and Neuvillette.

She glanced down at him, he hadn’t moved a single inch. His eyes were glued to the floor as he replayed the event in his head, over and over again. You said no.

“Neuvillette?” Furina approached him, gently tapping his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He snapped out of his trance, picking his head up, “I- I do not know.”

“Well, why don’t we get you back home, yeah?”

The two left in silence, Furina remaining close beside him. People watched the two leave the Opera Epiclese and they wouldn’t stop talking. This news would spread like wildfire, Neuvillette would become the talk of Fontaine.

Outside it was downpouring. The rain was the worst it had been in a very long time. Furina knew why.

“Even the weather is matching the mood,” Someone said from afar, noticing the Archon and Chief Justice.

“What a shame,” Another person spoke. “Losing out on a good lover such as the Monsieur.”

“They even rejected him in front of a crowd. The embarrassment he must feel… How cruel.”

“I do hope he finds someone better. He deserves someone less… fucked in the head.”

Each voice he heard was a nasty reminder, each word spoken made his heart twist and ache in an uncomfortable way. He tried to drown it out, but it was almost impossible.

“Thank you, Lady Furina,” He pulled away from her. “But I think I’ll go alone.”

“A-Are you sure?” She was hesitant to leave him alone in such a state.

“Quite sure. I’ll see you soon,” He left without another word.

Neuvillette decided to spend the rest of his evening alone, sulking in his hurt, wondering if maybe he could have done something to make you stay.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette angst #neuvillette genshin #hurt/no comfort #angst #genshin impact angst #genshin angst

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janeyseymour · 3 months

Text

Love Thy Neighbor, Family Matters- pt 2

Summary: the procedure, and the aftermath.

Part 1.

*full disclosure i wrote most of this hammered, like absolutely obliterated, so it is entirely unedited but. i hope u still love her*

WC: ~2.8k

“You know we can’t make a baby of our own, right?” Melissa chuckles as you practically pounce on her once you’re parked in your driveway. “That we are indeed lacking a… , and Ellie is inside probably waiting for us to come in and cuddle her.”

You just continue to kiss her hungrily, wherever you can.

“Babe,” your wife hums. “Hun. We- we have to go inside.”

You groan but right yourself as you climb off of her. “Once she’s in bed tonight.”

“Once she’s in bed,” the redhead agrees softly. She kisses you passionately, just once, before climbing out of the car. She makes her way to your side and opens the door for you. The two of you enter the house quietly, and you can hear ‘Inside Out’ playing from your living room. Melissa kicks off her shoes, as do you, before making your way into the house.

The sight before you makes your heart swell. Gerald has his arm around his own wife while Barbara holds your daughter tight in her lap. Ellie is on the verge of sleep as she leans into Barb’s warmth, but her eyes light up when she sees you.

“Hey, Ellie girl,” you say softly as you make your way over to the couch. Melissa follows and takes a seat next to her work wife.

“Were you good for Auntie Barb?” your wife asks as she brushes a few stray hairs out of the girl’s face.

Your daughter hums softly and reaches for you both. “Moms.”

“Someone’s tired,” you chuckle quietly as you take your little girl into your arms and press a few kisses to her face.

“El was perfect as always,” Barbara states. “We had a wonderful dinner before heading down to the park. She was showing us her gymnastics and dance before we decided to come home and watch a movie.”

“That sounds like such a nice night,” you smile. Ellie nods into your neck.

“How was dinner?” the kindergarten teacher asks, a glimmer in her eyes. She knows what Melissa was presenting you with tonight.

You look at wife with such love in your eyes. “It was perfect.”

Melissa just gives you the same look as she begins to rub slow circles on Ellie’s back. “Dinner with my beautiful wife is always perfect.”

“Your conversation went well?” Barb presses quietly.

“Yes,” the two of you sigh at the same time.

“I’m going to take our little girl up,” you mumble against hair that matches your own. “But feel free to stay for a glass of wine. I’ll be back down in five.”

You whisk Ellie up the steps and tuck her into bed, kissing her forehead as she reaches for one of the many stuffed animals that lays on her bed. You watch her for a few seconds before flicking on her favorite night light and closing the door.

You expect the three adults to be sitting on the couch with glasses of wine, but instead they’re in the kitchen. You make your way in with soft eyes as you see your wife with a bottle hand.

Melissa is just about to pop a bottle of champagne and is telling the Howards how dinner went.

“Does Ellie know?” you ask your wife. You know she tends to run things by the younger girl before approaching you about family decisions like this.

Melissa shakes her head. “I figured we shouldn’t get her hopes up… in case it doesn’t

end up happening.”

“It will,” Gerald states with certainty. “Barbara and I will pray over the two of you, and god will give you another sweet soul to love and cherish for the rest of your days.”

Your wife smiles as she pops the cork and pours the bubbly into four champagne flutes.

“Enjoy this while you can,” the redhead teases.

You roll your eyes playfully but nod as you kiss her cheek. “Oh, I will. And then for the time that I am carrying our child, I will be forcing you to drink the things that I like so I can live vicariously through you.”

The drinks are passed out, and then there is a small toast and clinking of glasses. Barbara bows her head and prays quickly, and then she smiles. “I just know the lord will give you a beautiful and healthy little babe.”

Melissa just chuckles as she raises a brow at you. “Yeah?”

“You’ll be drinking seltzers for days,” you shrug.

After a few months of monitoring your health and keeping track of your cycle a bit more closely, the day that you go for your first treatment, you once again have Barbara and her husband look after your little girl. She’s a little confused as to why the kindergarten teacher is taking her home after a day of school and not the two of you, but she doesn’t really question it. She’s just excited that she gets to spend time with one of her favorite aunties.

“We’ll come pick you up at Auntie Barb’s,” you promise your daughter as she heads off to her own classroom that morning. “Be good, yes?”

“I always am, Momma!” Ellie tosses over her shoulder as she exits.

She stops into Melissa’s room on the way down. “Have a good day, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart,” your wife smiles softly. “Now get to class before I have to call your teacher again and tell her you’re on your way.”

“I’m never late,” the fifth grader giggles.

“It’s never marked as late because Momma or I always call your teacher to let her know you’re on your way.” Green eyes are rolled playfully. “Now get outta here and upstairs.”

“Yes, Sir Mom,” Ellie cheekily turns back around to mock salute her mother. Then she runs off giggling.

The day passes slowly, and you’re not exactly thrilled at how slowly the day seems to go by. But finally, you’re standing outside with Melissa during dismissal, Ellie bounces up to both of you and happily chats your ear off about her day in fifth grade, and then you’re dropping her at Barb’s classroom door.

“We should be able to pick her up by six,” your wife tells her best friend.

The kindergarten teacher just waves you off. “The two of you should take your time. Have dinner.”

Walking into the doctor’s office, Melissa holds your hand and squeezes it as a silent reminder that she is going to be here for you through it all. The procedure is done, you lay there for about half an hour, and then you’re able to head out.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Barb is a straight line to Jesus,” your wife chuckles softly. “If it didn’t, you know that woman will be having a word with God himself. And then, we’ll just keep trying.”

“You would do that?” you ask quietly as you begin to walk hand in hand down the street.

“Of course.” She pulls you in close, wrapping an arm around your waist as you shuffle away from the office. “But for now, let’s just have a nice dinner and try to relax. The doc said low stress, and I intend on keeping you as stress-free as possible.”

“You’ll have a glass of wine for me at dinner?” you chuckle.

Your wife rolls her eyes but nods. “If that’s what you want.”

Two weeks later, Melissa hands you a pregnancy test. With a nervous glance, you head into the bathroom.

You pee on the stick, and then you sit there in absolute silence as you pray that the word ‘positive’ will be staring back at you in five minutes. Melissa keeps your daughter occupied while you sit on the toilet in a puddle of your own sweat and anxiety.

You come out of the bathroom with the stick in your hand, shaking slightly.

“El, can you go pull on your shoes so we can head to the park?” you ask your daughter gently, and the tone in your voice doesn’t tell your wife what the result of the test was.

“We’re going to the park?” your little girl’s eyes light up.

You chuckle softly. “Just like we do almost everyday that we can. Go on now.”

Ellie runs off, and almost immediately Melissa’s hands are in your sweatshirt pocket. She pulls out the test and glances at it. The word negative is staring back at the two of you, and your heart sinks just as it did when your first saw that one word printed so clearly on the digital test.

“It- it didn’t work,” you whisper softly as you look down at your feet. “I’m sorry.”

Warm arms are around your waist. “You have nothing to apologize for at all, mi amore. We’ll try again soon, and we’ll do everything that we can to increase the chances.”

You shrug. “What if it just wasn’t meant to be? I mean… Ellie was a happy accident.”

“We’ll get there,” your wife promises you softly as she leans in to kiss you. “We will.”

You go to respond, but Ellie’s voice floats into the living room. “Moms? Are you coming?”

“We’re coming, lovey,” you call back as evenly as you can. You shove the test back into your pocket. “C’mon. We can’t forget about that little gift from God we have waiting for us.”

That night, Ellie curls up in bed with you, exhausted from running around with her sweet friends at the park. She falls asleep rather quickly, but your mind is racing. Eventually, your wife begins to sing a soft tune in Italian that lulls you to sleep.

When you wake, your daughter is still holding onto you tightly as she sleeps nearly on top of you. Peeling your eyes open, you see that Melissa isn’t next to you. Sundays are days that she usually wakes early and heads to church, and you suppose this time is no different.

Your wife is nearly in tears as she pulls into the parking lot, only to be met with Barbara Howard.

“Melissa!” the kindergarten teacher strides up to the car. “Where’s Ellie with you this morning?”

“I decided to let her sleep in with Y/N,” Melissa mutters quietly. “Y/N needs her little girl right now.”

“And why would that be?” Barb asks.

The redhead looks up to her friend. “The uh, it didn’t work. She ain’t pregnant.”

The devout Christian’s face drops, as does Gerald’s. “She isn’t?”

The redhead just shakes her head. “I came here… to pray.”

Barbara grabs her best friend’s hand and leads her to the back pew. Silently, the three of them bow their heads and pray. They pray for a beautiful life to join the Schemmenti family in the next year. They pray that you will be healthy throughout, and that whatever sweet soul you bring into this world is happy, healthy, and safe. They pray that it doesn’t take too long, because they know that you can become doubtful and insecure. They sit through the sermon, finding peace in what the priest has to say, before they head out.

“Would you care to join us for brunch?” Gerald offers.

But Melissa just shakes her head. “I should probably just head home. Make sure that Ellie and Y/N are doing okay.”

The two of you throw yourselves into being the best parents that you can be for Ellie as a distraction from the failed attempt. If the lord hasn’t gifted you with a baby yet, you might as well be the best mothers that you can be for the little girl that you’re already so blessed to have.

That is… until two weeks later, when you wake up incredibly nauseated and dizzy on a Saturday- the day that you usually take Ellie out for breakfast, spend the day soaking up the sun at the park, and then Melissa cooks out if it’s a nice enough day.

You think that the spell has passed when it suddenly hits you again, and you bolt to the bathroom.

You’re only in there for about thirty seconds before you feel your wife’s hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

With a heavy sigh, once you feel that you’re finished, you flush the toilet and lean back against Melissa.

“That was awful,” you groan.

The redhead just hums and reaches under the sink to grab the mouthwash. She pours a bit in the lid for you to swig.

“I hate throwing up.”

“Hopefully it’s just a quick bug that gets out of your system quickly,” Melissa tells you softly. She kisses your temple. “C’mon, hun. Back to bed for you.”

“But El-”

“Can hang with me today while you rest,” your wife tells you pointedly.

Grumbling about how you’re fine, you stumble your way back into your bedroom and curl up under the blankets, the dizziness still present. Melissa gently lays back down next to you. Her warm arms wrap you up, and you feel her press a quick kiss to the nape of your neck.

You must fall asleep, because the next time you open your eyes, the house is still. Your wife must’ve taken Ellie down to the park. Thank God your nausea has subsided, and you head back into the bathroom.

As you open the drawer to grab your hairbrush, you see one of the unused pregnancy tests. You pull it out and hold it for a few seconds before all but ripping the test from the packaging.

Five minutes later, the word in big bold letters is staring back at you. Pregnant. In shock, you reach for another. That one also screams the word at you- in less than the five minutes that it’s supposed to.

Y-you’re pregnant. You aren’t sick with a stomach bug. You’re carrying a child. Tears of joy begin to pour down your face as you hold those two sticks.

Melissa. You have to tell Melissa.

But she’s out with Ellie. Immediately, you reach for your phone and dial her number.

“Babe?” she picks up on the second ring. “How are you feelin’ hun?”

“I need you to come home,” you rush out. “Please.”

Melissa stammers out a few syllables before sighing. “Yeah, okay. I’m just gonna drop El with Nonna, and then I’ll-”

“Why is she going to Nonna’s?”

“She called me while we were walking down to the park, and I mentioned you being sick. She said she would whip up something for you and take our girl for the night so I can take care of you.”

“Okay, okay,” you hurry out. “Just… be quick about it, please?”

“Are you really not feeling well?”

“I need my wife, dammit!”

About ten minutes later, you hear the two enter the house. Melissa tells Ellie to pack her bag quickly while she checks on you. You’re back in bed, watching some trash television as you scroll through Amazon to start looking at items you may need for the baby.

She presses a soft kiss to your head as she sets down a mug of peppermint tea for you. “How’re you feelin’, mi amore?”

You just shrug your shoulders as you close out of the shopping app. It takes everything in you to not tell her right now.

“El is packing a bag now, and then I’ll be back to take care of my sickly wife.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” you ask softly as you lean into her touch gently.

“I ask myself that same question about you and Ellie girl every damn day.”

The two head out not much later, and then Melissa is back. She announces her entrance as she kicks her shoes off in the foyer, and then she calls to you that she’s just going to put down the pot of soup that Nonna had made for you.

You leap out of bed, grab the tests, and rush out into the kitchen. Your wife hears you before she sees you, and you all but jump into her arms.

“I see someone is feelin’-” You shove the tests into her hands as soon as she’s put the crockpot on the counter. Her eyes go wide as she looks at them both, and then they fill with tears, much like yours had.

“So, you don’t-”

“I’ve never been so happy to be throwing up!” you giggle.

“Baby, are you- are you serious?” Melissa’s eyes sparkle with happy tears as she looks to you.

“The proof is in the pudding!” you tell her as you wrap your arms around her neck.

She kisses you soundly before pulling back just slightly and wiping away the stray tears that have escaped.

“I’m going to be a mother,” she whispers, and her voice breaks just slightly as her hands wander down to your still flat stomach.

“You already are,” you correct her gently. “To our sweet Ellie girl, and now to this beautiful little baby that will be joining us.”

TAGS: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you

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psiroller · 1 month

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My Boy (We Don't See Each Other Much)

a third fic request from unkat has reached me for some gamer au shenanigans. cool, i thought, nice low stakes goofin off fun time au. lets put some military industrial complex in there

cw: institutionalized homophobia, vague references to USAmerican military operations in the 2000's, gamer lingo

The raid was a resounding success by their guild's lax standards. Chilchuck managed to pull a rare light armor piece he'd been looking for, finally catching him up to the modern game; he was surprised by how much damage the standard grinding mobs were doing to him now, even if his defense was always going to be lower than the tanks and fighters he partied with. Laios landed the biggest critical hit he'd ever seen; the broadsword Chilchuck nabbed for him off the Auction House was working well for him. He was clearly still riding the high, humming the victory fanfare under his breath as he took inventory and milled about with Senshi, comparing the ingredients they’d collected, trading amongst themselves. It was late, though, close to Senshi’s prep hours. Marcille was fighting against the cozy lethargy that followed a glass of wine and swiftly losing. Falin had already logged out to take a shower and head to bed, stopping by Laios’ door for a hug goodnight.

Laios went right back to the desktop after he shut the door. He pulled his headset back on and heard the familiar sound of Chilchuck’s raspy inhale and then a long, satisfied exhale.

“Chilchuck!” Laios said, too eagerly. “You’re still up?”

“No, I’m fast asleep,” Chilchuck drawled. Laios snorted and threw a rock at Chilchuck’s head. It passed through harmlessly; neither of them wanted the hassle of dedicated PVP. Maybe Laios wasn’t as keen on roleplaying as Marcille and Falin were, but the roleplaying server had been a lot kinder to him than the standard ones he usually played on.

“You were right about the sword,” Laios tittered. “I really have to start doing the math instead of just looking at bigger numbers—uh, focusing on how sharp the blade is, I mean.”

Chilchuck coughed through a laugh, leaning away from the mic so that it didn’t blow Laios’ eardrums out. “I think some of the guides are a little out of date,” Chilchuck said, relaxed enough to drop character. Marcille was still nearby, though the AFK symbol appeared under her name; the elf she played nodded off, ears drooping. “Critical chance used to be calculated with this really convoluted system that also included timers, so there were only so many crits you could get in the span of a few minutes,” he went on. “They updated it recently so that you roll for a critical every hit.”

“Oh, thank God,” Laios said. “On a timer? How long did raids use to take?”

“Oh, upwards of four hours.” Chilchuck said casually. Laios sputtered. “I know, I know. I guess people had more free time back then… though with how people run multiple raids a night now, I guess it’s down to how committed you are.”

“So critical hit percentage is the thing I should focus on, then.”

“For your build, yeah.”

“Why does everyone recommend focusing on damage per second?”

“It’s a recent change, I think it got pushed out just before you signed up. They’ve tweaked it a lot, so people tend to get confused on how it works now, as it gets buffed and nerfed. Attack and attack speed used to be connected to the same value, so there are other ways you can focus on dealing damage instead of just right clicking the dragon and watching one of twelve timers tick down.” Chilchuck smiled and took another drag. “I think they’re trying to freshen things up a little. I like the changes.”

“Really? Everyone in the forums talks about how much they hate it.”

“If they’re old enough to be using the forums, they’re old enough to hate their favorite thing changing,” Chilchuck laughed.

“But not you,” said Laios. There was a warmth there that Chilchuck didn’t see a reason for.

“Eh.” Chilchuck’s ears burned under his headset. “Maybe a little bit. They don’t make shooters like they used to.” There was a pause. “Oh, right, you don’t like those.”

“Just the super hoo-rah military ones,” Laios breathed. “I can do Team Fortress 2. That one’s pretty fun.”

“Oh! I play that with—a friend, sometimes,” Chilchuck stammered. “Do you… I’m still kind of wired. I got a day off tomorrow. Do you—”

“Yeah!” His mic clipped. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Wait, you don’t have a test tomorrow or anything, do you?”

“… No.”

“I don’t like that hesitation.”

Laios huffed and puffed and logged out of Dungeon Divers with little warning, but usernames were exchanged and soon Laios’ avatar (a dragon, what else) popped up in Chilchuck’s scant friend list, nestled between Dan and May.

“I didn’t think you’d be cool enough to play TF2,” Laios teased.

“Cool people play TF2? I thought it was all screaming toddlers.”

“There are a few of those, yeah,” Laios admitted.

“I played the original game. It was a lot different. I don’t really keep up with it these days, but…”

“No worries,” Laios chirped. “I’ll take care of you.”

Chilchuck felt something zip down his spine. “I’m not that bad.”

They played three matches with the usual late night crowd, and it was a miracle if Chilchuck could stay alive for longer than a minute or two, let alone get a kill. Laios, on the other hand, clawed up every scoreboard and sat at the top. He started with Sniper; Chilchuck followed him while waiting for his respawn timer to run out, flicking between first and third person views. He watched as opponents’ heads would pop like grapes the moment they touched Laios’ reticle, faster than Chilchuck’s eyes could tell his brain to move his fingers.

“Okay, maybe I’m pretty bad,” Chilchuck admitted. “Compared to you.”

Laios missed a shot and sputtered. “I’m concentrating…!” A Spy knifed him, and Chilchuck could hear Laios whack his mouse against the table in frustration. Chilchuck laughed.

“Relax, that’s your first one this round,” he teased. “Your reflexes are crazy. Maybe I’m getting too old for twitchy games like this.”

“The mechanics have changed a lot and all the tryhards are on,” Laios conceded, breathing out the annoyance. “I’ll switch to Heavy. Wanna be my Medic? I can keep more of an eye on you.”

Chilchuck sniffed at his demotion to pocket healer, but then at least he’d be getting assist kills. “Alright, fine.”

Many assist kills were had, and all was well. It was fun to watch Laios’ brain work, bobbing and weaving and jumping around. He played like May did, hyperfocused on the movement mechanics; Chuck’s wrists weren’t any good for that anymore, so he usually hung back to support anyway.

“So why TF2 and not Call of Duty?” Chilchuck asked between matches, lighting another cigarette in search of the now-elusive nicotine buzz. “Seems like you’re really good. You could probably go pro if you wanted.”

Chuck heard a rustling against the mic. Sounded like Laios fiddling with the thing, maybe rubbing his face. He heard a scratch of stubble.

“Eh. I just—don’t like the military aesthetic very much, or something,” Laios mumbled. “I, uh. I served, and it’s a little…”

Chilchuck coughed. “You served? As in, served in the army?”

“Yeah.” There was a chuckle from the other line. “What? Is it that surprising?”

“Well, you just never…” Chuck scratched at the nape of his neck. “You never said anything that made me think… I don’t know what I thought. You didn’t seem like the type.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Laios snorted. “I was a good shot, but not a good soldier, if that makes any sense?”

Chuck wet his dry lips and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t lock into the next game, and the queue dumped them out. Laios didn’t reset it.

“So you objected? Conscientious objection? Is that what it’s called?”

“That’s what it’s called, but uh… it takes a while to get that done if you enlisted voluntarily. You have to plead your case for it. I thought about it, but I didn’t get the chance.”

Chilchuck swallowed dryly, then tapped some ash out into the ceramic tray Patty made for him many Father’s Days ago. “So you were kicked out?”

“Discharged, yeah,” Laios sighed. His chair creaked as he leaned back, too. “Other than honorable.”

Chuck winced. “What did you do?”

There was that rustling again. “I, um. If you don’t ask, I don’t have to tell you.”

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I”—Chilchuck’s eyes went wide—"ohhh.”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously? They booted you over a thing like that?”

Laios laughed weakly. “It’s in the regulations.”

“Still? When there’s, like, five wars going on?”

“Yep. I got a little pamphlet about it and everything. It’s rarer these days, and most people now get let off with an honorable, but…” Laios sighed. “My case was a whole thing. I didn’t fit in great with the rest of my platoon to begin with, and I maybe… I maybe misread some signals. You get bored out there, you know. Lonely. Got a little too close to my bunky…” Laios cleared his throat. “He let me down easy, but I guess he said something to somebody. I don’t think he’d go straight to the brass, he told me he wouldn’t, but someone must have overheard and that counts as credible evidence, so…”

Laios popped his lips with a click of his tongue. Chilchuck was frozen, ashes falling from the end of his cigarette into the crevices of his already dirty keyboard. The cigarette had almost burned down to the filter; money burning up in unsmoked nicotine. “I was probably going to leave anyway,” Laios said, to fill the silence. “I didn’t like being out there. If anything it kept me from being stupid and going AWOL. But if you talk to the VA—or my dad, heh—I might as well have.”

Laios wheezed. Chilchuck blinked some smoke out of his eyes and stubbed out his cigarette.

“Hang on, you were on active duty and they’re hassling you at the VA over healthcare?”

“Oh yeah. Anything less than a general discharge is going to get you some hassle. I’m still on general health insurance, lowest tier. I’m not on TRICARE.”

Chilchuck pinched the pressure point between his eyebrows. “There’s gotta be a way to appeal that.”

“There might be. But I’ve spent about 40 hours of my life on the phone with them since I got back, and I’m not keen on spending anymore.” Laios made a blech sort of noise, disgusted, a little childish. “I hate phone calls. Besides, they gave me some money for college, so it wasn’t a complete wash.”

“Small miracles,” Chilchuck mumbled.

“Yup,” Laios breathed. He drummed his fingers on his desk, loud enough to reach the mic. Then there were a couple rhythmic bongo slaps against the table, nervous. “Ready for another game?”

Chuck looked at his watch. It was 4:32 AM.

“Sure. Night’s still young,” he said, for lack of anything comforting to say. “Play Heavy again.”

“Okay,” Laios said, and there was a smile in his voice. So that was something.

#dungeon meshi #ficroller #fic preview #dunmesh gamer au #chilaios #laichil

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wasjustred · 2 years

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Winter Weather Warning - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: A blizzard comes barreling through the area and you find yourself stranded———in Larissa’s quarters.

Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x femprof!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smut – fingering and cunnilingus (reader receiving); Larissa gets an orgasm

Word Count: ~6.3k (oops)

Author’s Note: Whaaat? A fic? From me? Finally?? I hope this was worth the wait! Thanks to all you lovely folk who’ve been so patient with me; there’s been a lot going on in my life so I’m very appreciative of you all. Feedback, as always, is welcome and encouraged! ♡ ﹠. a special thank you to my beta readers @sapphicsbeloved and @zephyr-is-tired ——— sending you many kisses and finger waggles for your help! 😙🥰 ╱ AO3

You try not to begrudge the snow for falling when and where it will. It’s pretty, you have to admit: soft, and flurried, sweeping over the stone grounds of Nevermore without prejudice. You peer out from your window and watch scattered groups of students chase after each other gleefully, faces turned up toward the sky like small purple sunflowers in their school uniforms, arms outstretched and reaching. The low angle of the sun against the trees suggests dusk will fall soon, just enough light still to cast long, excitable shadows across the ground.

A smile prods at your lips as you turn away from the window and further into your classroom with the intention of setting up for your last class of the day. You’d originally planned to guide them through a review period for an exam next week, but with the state of the sky and the weekend finally here, you decide a film might instead be just what everyone needs; you can afford to push the exam back another day, and really, they’ll be gunning for extra time where they can get it anyway. You know your students well enough.

When the kids begin filing in, you delegate tasks without explanation, the room abuzz as you instruct one student to close the blinds and a few others to adjust the desks just so. You catch a glimpse of the world down below before the windows cover up: Steady flurries still, but nothing that worries you. The kids’ thrill at spending the period in relaxation when you reveal your plan to them is enough to distract from any further thoughts on the weather, anyhow.

The hour passes swiftly as you sit in the back grading papers, every so often glancing up to take stock of the room. Everyone files out just as fast at the sound of the bell and calls out wishes for a good weekend while you’re left to rearrange the room back into its original state. You take care of the desks first, pack your own items up, decide to leave the windows for Monday since it’s dark out by now, no longer any ribbons of light sneaking through the cracks where the blinds don’t quite meet glass. A nice bottle of wine, a fire, maybe a few candles and a good book… the night is promising, and you run through a mental checklist of how many comfort items and practices you can employ as you wander down to the front entrance, bundled up tightly in your coat to brave the cold.

But when you reach the landing of the long staircase, the sight that greets you is not promising in the slightest: the outer floodlights cast a muted glow over what had been a harmless shower of snow, now furious gusts of heavy flakes collecting faster than your brain can entertain. There has to be at least a couple inches out there already, and the realization that you’ll have to navigate through the winding, hilly roads of Vermont in the middle of this elicits a groan. The treeline is hardly visible amidst the dark and the snow, and the roads are likely no better off: the town tends to skirt right around Nevermore when salting the streets. This drive’ll be a perilous one at best.

“Absolutely not.” The sound of Larissa’s disapproval startles you into a sharp and over-dramatic gasp, every muscle of yours tensing at once when her voice comes from just behind you.

“Jesus, you scared me! ‘Absolutely not’ what?” You turn to her with features marred by confusion - once the surprise has melted away - and tilt your head up, taking a small step back to balance yourself when you realize how close she is. She looms over you in a way only she can: regal and overwhelming–––yet cordial all the same, offset by the soft floralness of her perfume. The fact that she’d reached you there without a sound would likely be unsettling if it were anyone else. With her it’s just… attractive, the slyness of it all. The mischievous grin she bares in response to how you jump doesn’t help.

“There is absolutely no chance I’m letting you drive in that.” This elicits an incredulous scoff as you peer up at her, arms lifting at your sides like a pair of very exasperated, very amused wings.

“Letting me? What am I supposed to do? Break my back sleeping on the floor of the library? No thanks.”

“Don’t be silly,” Larissa tsks, pressing her lips together in an all too familiar demonstration of thought. She’s quick with her next words, though, and something tells you there wasn’t much thought to be given at all. “You’ll stay with me.”

The firmness with which she says this, the matter-of-fact tone that has always so easily slid off her tongue, leaves no room for discussion. You gape at her but Larissa’s already swiveling on her heel and walking in the direction of her office as though it’s been decided once and for all, no questions asked. She throws a crooked finger over her shoulder and gestures for you to follow, the sound of her heels now echoing through the mostly-empty halls.

You wonder, frivolously, how in the hell you didn’t hear her the first time around.

You rush after her with quick steps in an effort to keep up; Larissa’s long, unhesitating strides carry her farther and faster than you can move without some effort. The view of her backside, however, is not one that merits complaint. You follow the curve of it up until you come upon a landing you’re not familiar with, nearly knocking into Larissa when she halts abruptly and turns towards you for the first time since this little journey began. She looks almost unsure of herself now, eyes flitting about rather than meeting yours. It’s one thing, you know, to flirt in passing; to brush arms when you’re both chaperoning students in Jericho; to trade amused, knowing glances across faculty meetings. But it’s another to invite you into her sanctuary, a decisive and loaded crossing of one of the last lines between the two of you.

“If you’d prefer, I believe there’s an empty dorm room I can have made up for you. It’d be no problem.” She finally looks down at you long enough for you to read what’s going on behind that mask of hers, typically pristine and perhaps a touch righteous: she’s trying to give you an out, trying to relinquish control for a second before she commandeers your night, and she’s worried she’s already gone too far by bringing you up here in the first place.

But you’re not going to say no to a night at Larissa’s side, especially when the potential for a warm fire and a glass of wine or two is so high.

Especially when it’s her asking.

“No, it’s alright. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Not at all,” she’s quick to blurt out, shaking her head. “I simply wanted to make sure you knew you had the option, that’s all.”

With that, Larissa turns again and begins the ascent to what you assume is her hall–––until you’ve reached another landing with only one door, and she pushes it open to reveal an entire apartment all her own. It’s very her, this place: Warm, shining, elegant. The living room is awash with low, simmering lights, furnished with a mix of dark leather and velour, a towering bookcase taking up the whole of one of the far walls with an accompanying reading nook. She walks you further into the threshold and eases the door closed behind you, hovering silently as you take the space in. There are a few framed art pieces that you promise yourself you’ll review more thoroughly later on, scattered vases of flowers and various, high-hanging mirrors.

What truly draws your attention, however, are the photos strategically lining the walls, clearly taken at various points in Larissa’s life: A small platinum-blonde girl carefully posed before a Christmas tree with two very proper looking hounds on either side of her, all very regal and staged except for the wide, nose-crinkling grin on the girl’s face; a beach trip with the same girl, slightly older now, arm thrown over her face as she squints against the sun and into the camera - and a pair of kids that look to be around her age chase each other in the background; teenage Larissa suited up and on horseback, smiling proudly as a judge strings a blue ribbon around the horse’s halter; graduation photos from Nevermore; a trip to the Scottish Highlands, it looks like, a twenty-something Larissa soaked to the bone but grinning out at the miles and miles of luscious greens like she couldn’t be bothered less by the weather. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of her.

Eventually Larissa brushes behind you, laying a hand at your waist in passing as she toes off her heels and begins the process of lighting the fireplace.

Her touch leaves an emphatic tingle in its wake.

“I didn’t think my wall was that particularly exciting,” she muses, glancing over her shoulder at you. You duck your head and turn from the wall, following her lead as you slip out of your shoes and place them next to her own.

“I always like to see what people were like before I knew them. It’s intimate.” Larissa’s gaze softens almost imperceptibly before she returns her attention to the fire, adjusting the logs one last time and replacing the latch on the brass screen.

“What do they tell you, those pictures?” She wipes her hands and comes to rest against the edge of a couch, gazing at you as you shift on your feet and consider her question. Her eyes remain soft, but there’s something else lurking there behind the blue now: Curiosity? Interest? Desire, even? You can’t read it for sure, so you clear your throat and move back to the photographs on her wall, crossing your arms over yourself.

“Well, .. this one,” you start, gesturing towards the Christmas tree, “screams rich.” Larissa snorts loudly and tilts her head in a way that says you’re not wrong. “Probably an only child - at least at the time, otherwise there’d be other kids with you.” Her smile gives nothing away this time, but you charge ahead, brushing your fingers against the frame that holds the beach between its borders.

“This isn’t an American beach, that much I know.” You choose not to elaborate, allowing your ‘Americanness’ to speak for itself. “But I can’t tell if you grew up going there or if it was a special vacation, maybe visiting family… ?” you trail off as your gaze drifts over to her questioningly. She just shrugs, and you click your teeth in mock disapproval before moving on.

“You look happy here,” you observe, allowing your hand to drift over the photo of Larissa in her English riding gear. “Unforced. You enjoyed competing, maybe preferred your horse to people.” This one might be an unfair deduction, supplemented by your understanding of how cruel kids can be–––especially to an outcast, especially to a 6’3” girl.

“The Duke,” Larissa pitches in, pushing up off the couch’s back to join just behind your shoulder, gazing over at the photo in question. “My mother hated the name, but I insisted. He was a gift for my fifteenth birthday,” she reminisces, breath coursing over the tip of your ear. You peer up at her as she smiles, something sad and regretful there before she sucks in a deep breath and points out a new photo to you, more recent by the looks of it: Larissa stands with a large group of students in their Nevermore uniforms, mid-laugh as one of the kids waves his hands wildly and another has their mouth agape in what looks to be protest. Her eyes are crinkled - genuine - and one of her hands seems to be in the process of making its way up to cover her mouth, the other mindlessly resting at her midsection. You know that laugh. It’s her most uninhibited, her most authentic, which only comes out when she’s caught completely off-guard. Your favorite, if you’re honest.

“My first class of students as principal of Nevermore,” Larissa offers, scrunching her nose happily at the memory.

“What’d he say? That student?” You’re part genuine curiosity and part selfishness: eager to know what made her laugh like that, and how you can take hold of that kid’s humor and use it for yourself, elicit a look like that, a laugh like that, which so rarely comes about during school hours.

“I wish I could remember,” she murmurs, taking one last look before clasping her hands together and shocking you out of the reverie. “But nevermind all that. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

You nod sheepishly, nearly apologetic knowing she likely hasn’t and is looking to be a good hostess. But she merely nods, looking relieved: “Oh good, I can’t be bothered to cook tonight,” Larissa admits, a teasing grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Let me show you where everything is, then.” She guides you down the hall and nudges one of the doors open, gesturing with an open palm. “Here’s the bathroom. Extra amenities are in the second drawer there, towels in the closet.” The suite is nicer than any bathroom you’ve ever had, really the stuff of luxury hotels: white marble floors, a deep soaking tub, gold knobs and handles on almost every appliance. You’ve no choice but to forcefully shoo away the startling, indecent imaginings that break through your reserves of Larissa sinking deep into the lush bubbles of the tub, skin glistening, chest bare––––

“Heated floors, too. I never go cold in the winters.” Ever humble, Larissa pulls at your shoulder gently and switches the light off, directing you to another door just diagonal of the bathroom. When she swings the door open, you’re embarrassingly aware of the way your jaw drops.

“Bedroom’s this way,” she says, stepping into the space. It’s gorgeous, swooping drapes of dark ruby and gold, satin bedding that pools over the mattress and onto the floor, puddles of fabric against a thick persian rug. There’s another fireplace opposite the bed, an area farther off with another scaling bookcase and two large, well-worn armchairs, a small number of intricately designed table and floor lamps, a matching vanity and armoire, the former of which is careful, lived-in chaos with its scattered tubes of lipstick and skin care tinctures.

It’s Larissa.

“Wow,” you breathe, meeting her amused gaze. “You never mentioned you live like this. I would’ve taken you up on a sleepover much sooner if I’d known.” Larissa flushes and coughs out a coy laugh, smoothing a hand over her hair as she looks out across the room.

“Yes, well. You’re here now.” She reaches out and lifts your handbag from you, pulling at your coat lapel next to signal you should take it off. Once you do, Larissa hangs it along one of the walls and places your bag on her vanity. Busy work. “I have clothes you can borrow of course, though they may be a bit big. I’ll set them out, although,” she pauses, glancing at her bedside clock, “it’s early still… Up for a movie? Glass of wine?”

You’re almost - almost - embarrassed by the unrestrained nodding of your head, but hell, it’s been a long week, and relaxing with a bottle of wine sounds like the perfect reward for making it through without breaking down [in front of your students]. The fact that it’s Larissa’s personal wine, in her personal quarters, in her personal hands does nothing to lessen the appeal.

The question of where Larissa will sleep, if showing you the bedroom was her way of offering it to you, hangs in your head, but you decide the answer can wait until the time for sleep comes around. By no means are you going to allow Larissa to banish herself to the couch in her own home. You’d sooner take the floor–––even if you’d jokingly complained about that very same concept earlier in the hour.

“Do you have a preferred genre?” She asks as you both return to the living room, you perching on the sofa as she disappears into what you assume is the kitchen to fetch the wine. It’s not normally a loaded question, nor one worth considering too deeply, but you realize you have an opportunity here… and if Larissa’s occasional blushes, her soft gaze, mean what you hope they do, perhaps there’s a strategy to be employed. You shift further into the cushions, absentmindedly running a hand over your clavicle in thought.

“Don’t laugh… but I’m a sucker for romance when the weather’s like this,” you call out. Larissa peeks her head out from around the corner, brows furrowed in funny disbelief.

“Really?”

“Wha–– why is that so hard to believe?!”

“It’s not, I just.. wasn’t expecting it, I suppose. You seem more of the action or thriller type.” She shrugs and disappears again without further explanation, leaving you to half-pout half-ponder at her words. Before you can make an argument in your defense, however, she’s returning with two full glasses, bottle tucked under her arm, and dimming the lights, a practiced look of concentration slanted across her features as she makes her way over to the couch and lowers one of the glasses into your waiting hand. The red sloshes up just near the edge when Larissa hands it off, and you half-jokingly prod at her as your brows shoot up in amusement.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Principal Weems?” She tuts with faux indignation, but the growing flush of her cheeks betrays her.

“I wouldn’t dare.” She settles next to you - still a respectable distance for colleagues, but closer than mere acquaintances - and places the uncorked bottle on the table ahead of you, grinning.

“Romance it is, but I pick.” You ‘d be surprised by her demand if you didn’t know Larissa’s need to be in control at all times. In fact, if anything surprises you, it’s her calmness in the face of this turbulent weather–––perhaps the most uncontrollable variable there is. Even the most headstrong people can be manipulated, but not the sky.

The film she chooses isn’t one you’ve seen before, which excites you, and you both sink into the couch with a comfortable silence. You share little notes back and forth on the revolving plots and chuckle at the occasional joke, however cliché, as the movie rolls, finding an easy rhythm you’ve never before been able to appreciate amidst the chaos of classes and faculty meetings.

It’s about an hour in, having finished your first glass and poured another for yourself and Larissa, that you make the mistake of peering over at her from the corner of your eye. A particularly sappy scene is playing out before you. The TV’s light flickers softly against her face, which is content and dare you say tender as the two protagonists share a moment together. The stumble before the fall. Her forehead creases and you have the sudden urge to kiss the lines away, warmed by the wine and her beauty.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers hoarsely, though her eyes never leave the screen.

Your heart jolts when she catches you out, running hot with guilt. Your legs shift beneath you as you move to scoot a few inches away - to give her space from your leering gaze - but you freeze when you feel her hand on your knee, holding you in place. You watch her for any sign that’ll tell you what’s going through her head but she doesn’t budge further, only loosening her hold on you a fraction when you relax against the cushions again. Your heart is beating hard at the door of your ribs as you tilt your head back towards the movie, far too distracted to actually process anything that’s happening. The air is so thick now your lungs can hardly keep up; it’s a dizzying thing, electric, and your thoughts jumble haphazardly as you wonder whether or not Larissa’s feeling it, too.

You risk a peek at her again–––but Larissa is already looking at you.

Her chest is heaving, albeit subtly, and her eyes are dark. A steep wave of arousal pulses through you when her tongue slips out along her upper lip, her gaze flicking down to your mouth and back up again: a question. The second you nod her mouth is on yours, both of you sighing into the touch. You cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer still as your other hand fists around the fabric of her dress. An insistent tug at your waist brings one of your legs between her own, hips rolling against each other as she gropes at you mindlessly, squeezing the thigh slotted over her heat.

“Is this okay?” she asks breathlessly, dragging your bottom lip between her teeth before she pulls away to look at you. Her cheeks are flushed a heavy pink and her lipstick is smudged. You giggle at the realization that there must be bright crimson streaks along your chin and lips.

“Yes,” you assure her between steadying pants, stroking a hand from her shoulder to her wrist and entwining your fingers, giving them a gentle pinch. “You alright?”

A smile briefly turns her lips, soft and loose. “Very much so.”

The next few moments are sweeter, slower as you take your time savoring her taste, tracing the swell of her lips, the delicate scar at the top there, following the line of her jaw up into her hair with your fingertips. She presses into you as gentle as ever, drawing shivers up to the surface of your skin as her hand snakes up the length of your spine. Barely there still is the sound of the fire lingering in its box and the distinct roar of wintry gusts at the window, mere suggestions at the back of your brain. The wine’s been long forgotten on the table.

You shudder when Larissa’s fingers tease at the lower hem of your blouse and brush against a bare sliver of skin, resting there before you arch into her and take hold of her wrist, guiding her hand higher. Her lips quirk to one side at your earnestness, especially as she reaches the clasp of your bra. She hesitates again, more teasing than searching, and slides her tongue into your willing mouth, exhaling sharply when you meet her move for move. Nimble fingers unclasp the bra without issue before they drift around to your front, putting distance between your bodies as Larissa palms your breasts, takes a nipple between her fingertips and pulls and twists with wicked dexterity.

A whimper escapes you when she sinks her teeth into your lip for a second time, much harsher this go around before she suddenly parts from you and begins pressing open-mouth kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and soothing in time with the hapless rocking of your hips. She adjusts to unbutton your top, never once pausing in her assault on your neck as she does so.

“Wait,” you pant out suddenly, and all at once her body leaves you, drawing back to give you space. The look on Larissa’s face is a concerned one, but gentle still, and you know she’ll follow where you need. It’s everything you can do not to keep her waiting in exchange for the chance to look at her, swollen lips and mussed hair, dress askew.

She’s never been more beautiful to you.

“Take me to bed.”

Her concern is washed away and replaced with relief - and then more prominent, want.

Larissa rises up from the couch and reaches a hand out to you, catching you off-guard when instead of walking you to the bedroom once you stand, she bends at the knee and scoops you up, your legs coming to wrap around her waist as you laugh in surprise.

“Who am I to say no,” she teases, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before making the careful trek over to the bedroom.

The question of where she’ll sleep is hardly that anymore.

You’re both already naked and rocking against each other beneath her blankets when the power goes out. Neither of you truly take notice until the temperature in the room’s significantly plummeted.

“Oh–––one moment, darling.” You push yourself up on your elbows and whine as Larissa slips out of bed, hissing against the cold. Goosebumps raise along her skin, the peaks of her nipples hardening further as she rushes to kneel before the fireplace, sparking a flame in record time. Her skin nearly glows in the moonlight that trickles in from the windows, reflective amidst the snow. She looks like a ghost before you - ethereal, hauntingly so - and you tilt your head, gaze tracking from the deep slope of her calves to the fine curve of her ass, the faint divots of her spine, the wisps of hair that have come loose from their hold and fallen to her shoulders.

“You’re staring,” Larissa chides as she slides back under the covers, shivering.

“I’m admiring,” you correct lamely, a pitiful pout coming to rest upon your lips as you open your arms and draw her closer to warm her now-frigid skin. She hums as if to say ‘yeah, okay,’ burrows into you and drapes an arm across your middle as she pushes her leg between yours. Your hips instinctively buck when her thigh slides against the wetness of your cunt, and you’re both abruptly reminded of what had you so distracted in the first place.

Larissa tentatively nods towards you again and runs the tip of her tongue along your pulse point, your hips beginning to rock together once more, panting heavily and in unison while the storm surges on outside, unabated. The heat pooling in your stomach is in stark contrast to the drifting chill in the room, rearing a confused, overwhelming sensation of hot-cold along your skin. Larissa’s breath, warm on your neck, only further urges the feeling along until you feel as though you might snap if she doesn’t take you fully.

“Please,” you whimper, dragging your nails up over her back with little reserve. Larissa nips at your chin and yanks your leg further across her, taut against your clit.

“Please what?” Her voice is raked over with a carnal desire the likes of which you’ve never seen on her before, deep and airy. It only serves to pull the coil tighter. Your breath hitches as she pushes herself up on her hands and knees, hovering over you now, and she leans down, down until her face is level with yours, an intense wave of adoration flooding through you as she caresses one of your cheeks. She whispers, “I want you to beg, sweetheart,” and it’s all over, never a chance, the air all but torn from you, slick heat gone straight to your cunt.

Beg for her. Beg for Her. No matter how many times the thought bounces around within that empty little head of yours, you’re frozen in place both by lust and surprise. You’ve had your share of fun, of course, but the type that usually involves you calling the shots, taking charge. You thought you liked it that way.

You might’ve been wrong.

You’re only finally jostled from your thoughts when Larissa pulls back and draws a brow up at your silence. A shadow of concern passes over her face but you’re quick to pull her back in, nodding.

“Please fuck me,” you all but whisper, desperate to be filled, to be warmed, to be taken care of while the elements ravage the earth beyond these four walls. Larissa grins smugly at your feebleness, pressing her full weight upon you before she winds a hand down between your bodies, cupping your slickness in her palm. You’re dripping all over yourself, you know: a cool, nearly chafing wetness coating the inside of your thighs, so easily spread when Larissa dips her fingers in between your folds. She sinks a single digit into you just halfway, draws it out, sinks in again and curls it against that soft spot, yes, right there––

She easily adds another and hums at the way your body translates its own neediness, busying her mouth with the soft line of your jaw.

“You feel so good..” she murmurs as her fingers bury themselves into you knuckle-deep, so long and soft and better than you’d ever imagined (and you’d certainly spent time imagining it). Her hips press into yours from above, throwing weight behind her hand as she rolls against you, a slow and steady fucking that excites the fire already roaring within you. You gaze up at her in awe as her eyelids flutter in time with the movement of her hips, realizing she’s found just the right friction against the back of her own hand that each time she thrusts into you, a firm, rippling pressure rubs up against her own clit.

Your hands search frantically now until they’re planted at the slope of Larissa’s waist and you watch, carefully, as you pull her harder into each drive of her hips, rejoicing when she gasps and shudders into the pattern, breaking it for a fraction of a second before driving into you with a far greater desperation.

“Oohf, yes, th-that’s it, darling,” she pants out before capturing your lips in a sloppy, bruising kiss. Suddenly your own orgasm is incidental as you revel in the picture of her coming undone above you, chest flushed, cheeks pink, her hair falling further from its updo as she works her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Look at me, I want to see you,” you clamor with a novel burst of confidence, hands drifting up from her waist to cup her face in your palms. You want to look her in the eye when she cums. You want the memory of her sounds, her face, so deeply imbedded in your mind that it’ll keep you warm when you’ve returned to your own quarters. You want, you want, you want, and she whimpers - a heavenly sound - and obliges, gaze unfocused for a moment before she looks down at you, tongue darting out as she attempts to maintain some degree of focus.

“Right there, right there.. I can feel how close you are,” you huffily encourage, shifting so that both of your legs wrap tight around her and wrench her deeper, harder into you, smiling when her breath hitches at the change of pace and pressure against her sex. You watch her closely, in awe: Larissa’s brows are furrowed, her mouth fallen open and the pink of her tongue closely matched to that of her cheeks, the slight swell of her tits lurching which each thrust. The knowledge that each plunge into your cunt brings her closer is surreal––that she’s so obviously getting off on fucking you, that the frantic snap of her hips is building both of you up, simultaneously.

Her hips begin to stutter into you, airy whimpers falling from her as she teeters on the edge, fingers curling haphazardly in an attempt to continue fucking you through the oncoming rush of her orgasm. The mattress rocks and dips momentarily as Larissa gasps, sharp, and suddenly bows over you with the force of her climax, breath hot on your neck, forehead pressed into your temple, chest heaving against yours as she mindlessly ruts. Her fingers remain buried in your heat, pulsing slowly in time with her come-down.

Larissa’s body shudders as you run your palm over her in light, gentle sweeps, one hand carefully traveling to cup the back of her neck.

“You’re alright.. I know.. ‘s good, hm?” You feel a weak nod at your side, Larissa eventually stilling atop you. The pad of her thumb draws slow, lazy circles around your clit as her breathing slows, nosing the crook between your shoulder and neck.

“Christ,” she mumbles against your skin, and you chuckle as her lips draw a line from your ear to your chin.

“Yeah?” She hums and - slowly, determined - begins to wriggle down your body until her face is level with your cunt, glancing up at you with a blissed-out smirk before she presses an open-mouthed kiss to your slickness. The wet warmth of her tongue slides easily against you, dipping between your folds, lapping up the puddle that’s collected at your center, working in tandem with the pressure of her thumb at your clit, a feeling dumbly akin to religious devotion: a reverent prayer at your sex, holy flames licking up the walls of her bedroom, the weighted creases of her sheets stretched where she kneels before you.

A strong gust of wind wracks the shutters of her windows. They bang haphazardly against the glass, knocking in time with the surges of the storm.

Your fingers clench around the bed covers as Larissa rolls over your entrance once more, teasing, then pushing into your dripping hole with an embarrassing ease. She fucks you slow and as deep as she’s able, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips. Not even the devil themself could stop you from rolling your pussy against her face in search of some greater friction, whining as the sounds of her tongue wading through your arousal mixes with the crackling of the fireplace, the moan of the storm outside.

“Ohfuckyes,” you pant as your legs spread further on their own accord, knees drawing up to alter the angle at which your pleasure floods through you. She moves with delicious ability, and you watch the stark blondeness of her hair bob with every fervent lap of her tongue, overwhelmed with the sudden realness of the moment: Larissa’s scent on the pillows, her lipstick smudged across your lips, her sweat on your skin. Her thumb abandons your clit, and a desperate cry waits at the threshold of your mouth until her finger is replaced with the pointed flicking of her tongue, quick and full and firm against you. The coil pulls tight within your core.

She murmurs something brusque but you’re too consumed with the sensation of her fingertips at your inner thigh to process, but she repeats herself as you release a heavy sigh, her fingers sinking deep into your cunt.

“That’s a good girl..." Your back arches at the same time Larissa takes your clit into her mouth, sucking and slurping as if to drink from that little bundle of nerves drawn straight to your core, as if to quench an otherworldly thirst. She pulls your orgasm from you quick and unforgivingly, never stumbling in her ministrations when your thighs begin to close in around her, or when your hands wind into her hair and pull, hard. She continues to devour you as if she doesn’t notice the snapping of that coil, the sounds that melt into the satiny sheets of her bed as you cry out for her–––the curling into yourself as your clit throbs towards unbearable tenderness.

“Fff––please, please, I’m––” Sapphire eyes bore into yours as her lips stretch into a devious smile, slowly but surely unlatching. A mercy, if you’ve ever seen one. You tremble in relief.

“You can’t take it?” she coos, superficial concern floating by your quivering sex. You don’t know whether to pull her closer or push her away when Larissa glances down towards your soaking cunt again––––

but the choice is made for you when she draws herself up and grabs hold of your chin, pushing her tongue into the waiting cavern of your mouth. The sure expanse of her thigh slides between your legs as she does so, eliciting a startled twitch as she brushes against your clit. She swallows your gasp.

“So sweet.” Larissa nips at your chin, presses her thigh against you more firmly and rubs her thumb back and forth along your cheek. Your hips buck of their own volition, acting solely on the most primal of instincts despite the sensitive twinge between your legs. There’s only Larissa’s softness, her warmth, her gentle affection circling your head, coloring the air around you. The world’s ending outside and it’s just her.

“Please kiss me,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with the need to absorb her, to touch her anywhere and everywhere all at once as if you could meld together somehow amidst the tousled satin.

She stills, hovering over you with a smile so soft you’re almost certain this has all been a very long, very desperate webbing of dreams until she obliges, brushing her lips against yours with the utmost of care.

“Are you alright?” Her voice is hushed, eyes searching.

“Better than alright,” you assure her, brushing a stray hair from in front of her face. “Kind of just wanted to be close to you…” You shrug sheepishly and turn your attention to the far wall, suddenly very interested in the twisting shadows of trees cast against the space there. The abrupt rush of vulnerability reddens your cheeks, lips pursing as the regret at such an intimate admission prickles up with equal swiftness. It’s quickly brushed away, however, when Larissa clicks her tongue and tilts your face towards her with a palm against your cheek, brow arched amusedly.

“Then be close,” she says, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your nose before she pulls you flush against her and buries her face into your neck. The fire’s dwindling, informed by the dying light of the room, the falling temperature beyond the bed, but neither of you notice as you wrap yourselves up in the arms of the other, tending to a warmth all your own.

#i’ve been super stressed trying to live up to ‘easy does it’ tbh so i hope this is at least decent 😅#don’t think i’ll ever beat the sugar mommy fic lol #ah well!#i love exploring/constructing the parts of larissa we never saw (like her childhood) ﹠. i hope you guys do too!#my girl’s def a rider #i’ll stand by that till the day i die #accompanied by expensive purebred well-trained dogs throughout childhood #but is more of a cat person now �� relaxed and easy #guilty pleasure romcom is ‘the proposal’#and not just bc that’s also MY guilty pleasure romcom 😇#n e ways hope you all enjoy :)#lmk your thoughts! 🫶🏼#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x f!reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #larissa weems imagine #larissa weems reader insert #larissa weems smut #principal weems x reader #principal weems imagine #wasjustred

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satcskinny · 15 days

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I want to start a little article archive analysis on some dieting trends I have seen. Today we look at:

Secrets of french girls - article archive 2006

There are a few differences between French women and North American women, but it's nothing you can't adapt to your own life. By taking a few tips from the French, you will slim down, and it will seem more like heaven in the process than hell.

If you want to eat (and look) like a French woman, you can forget about low carb and low fat. French women basically eat anything they want, but they steer clear from one truly bad food group - anything deep fried or processed. They also drink a lot of water with and between meals, which helps you feel full longer, and flushes toxins out of your body which will reduce a bloated look.

A basic diet of a French woman focuses around three main meals each day. French women don't snack much, but when they do eat, they always eat well. Breakfast will consist of fruit with either full fat yogurt or a croissant and a latte. Lunch will be some meat with a vegetable or salad (don't forget the cheese and croutons!) along with a small cup of strong coffee and a glass of wine to compliment what you are eating. Dinner will be something like cheese, bread, meat and a vegetable, often followed by dessert and of course, wine.

It may seem strange that someone could eat all these foods and still manage to stay slim, but the real secret is that French women listen to their bodies when they feel full. A croissant or muffin in America is about twice the size of one in France. The three course meals they love to cook and dine on might seem more like a bunch of little side dishes to an American.

They also never drink to an excess, they think of alcohol as a compliment for food. They always eat slowly and never eat in front of the T.V. or while reading, because they insist that this will make you overeat.

French women like to walk everywhere they go. They prefer to walk from store to store picking up nice food for dinner. They also don't tend to watch a lot of television. They might go for a walk or swim after dinner instead.

Another great slimming tip from French women is they love to make love. So after having a nice dinner of bread (a tiny bit), filet mignon (about the size of your palm) and red wine (only a glass or two!), have a roll in the hay with your lover instead of watching the next episode of Sex and the City. You'll burn calories, rekindle the romance and resist the temptation of snacking while sitting around being bored.

This way of eating is not the traditional way an American thinks of a diet.

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 1 year

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can you make one with matt murdock where they're good friends but one night they're drinking and having fun and then the reader kiss him but when they making out he ends up saying someone else name and the reader leaves, later on they talk and reader apologizes for misreading their relationship and continue to be friends but theres tension in it until bradley finally admits that he likes her and he try to make up for all the time lost

~Friends Don't Treat Me Like You Do~

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: none really, embarrassment?? Alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries (nothing major)

Genre: mostly fluff very minor angst

Summary: You've had a crush on your friend for a very long time and when you finally make your move it goes terribly wrong; And that's why friends should sleep in other beds // and friends shouldn't kiss me like you do ... // my friends won't love me like you - Friends by Ed Sheeran

A/N: I know it's a typo of some sort but it's sending me to the moon that the name Bradley is jus thrown into this ask cuz I can't even figure out what it's replacing lmaoooo anyway thank you for requesting! I hope you like it anon! :3 (also I didn't edit this plz be nice)

***

Your friendship with Matt Murdock is in some ways rather unconventional. You've been friends for many years, but these days most of your interactions consist of him stumbling over to your apartment at odd hours covered in bruises you don't ask about- not because you don't want to know but because you're pretty certain you've guessed it and you're not sure what acknowledging it would mean. So you don't ask, instead, you give him food, and tend to his wounds, and talk to him about whatever comes to mind until he inevitably falls asleep on your couch for a few hours and sneaks out early enough to go back to his place for his day job as a defense attorney with his two friends. Both of whom you'd consider friends- although not nearly as close as you are with Matt.

Tonight Matt's invited you over to his place. Apparently, he's been feeling a bit guilty that most of the time you've spent together in recent days has been just him coming over in the middle of the night. As if you'd ever actually be annoyed with taking care of your friend. Your friend you feel for more than he can ever know. Still, he insisted you come over for dinner so you did, he ordered your favorite from a takeout place near his place and now you're eating and drinking wine you brought along with you. Well, you're drinking wine, Matt's been helping himself to the beers filling his fridge.

"Whenever you come over I do all that talking Matty so today you can do the talking this time. Tell me what you've been getting up to lately." You tell him once you've covered asking each other how your day was.

"I don't do anything interesting y/n- I go to work, spend all day reading or writing lengthy opening statements or discussing things with Foggy and our clients until ungodly hours according to Karen. Sometimes they drag me out to Josie's but- there's really nothing I 'get up to' and you know that."

"Why do you do that?" You frown.

"What?"

"Make yourself seem so dull when you're not."

"Excuse me?"

"I've known you for a long time Matt and I can't think of single period of our lives where you had nothing interesting going on and yet you always talk about yourself as if you're the color beige personified. It's like you're worried that if people think you're too interesting they'll," you trail for a moment "find out something."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing in particular. You're just way more interesting than you want people to think. For some reason."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You're not exactly an open book either."

"You got something to ask me about Matty?"

"No." He shakes his head. You stare at him for a long moment.

"We should play a game!" You announce.

"I don't really- have games?" Matt says.

"There are tons of games that don't require having anything Matt we just have to pick one."

"Like what?"

"We can play 20 questions- the right way, last letter first letter, I'm not a fan of Ghost but we can do that too, or word replacement- to name a few."

"I'm- not familiar with those besides 20 questions?"

"Well, last letter first letter you pick a category and we name items except the last letter of one item has to be the first letter of the next one so like if we're naming office supplies and I say stapler you'd say something like ruler. And Ghost is a spelling game, kinda like hot potato meets Horse the basketball game- so like you take turns spelling a word and you don't wanna be the one who finishes the word- if you do then you get a letter from the word ghost- first person to finish ghost loses. And then word replacement is just a silly game where you pick a movie or show title and change one of the words to the silliest thing you can think of." You explain quickly.

"Let's do the title one. Requires the least amount of thinking and I don't have to compete with you." He says.

"Then I'll start. Fast and Constipated." You giggle.

"Fast and Constipated!?" Matt's laugh is incredulous.

"Yeah, fast and furious but not so fun."

"Okay um- John Tucker Must... Juggle."

"That's way less fun than him dying." You laugh.

"True."

"What a Chupacabra wants."

"Goats- obviously."

"Shut up." You giggle.

"Now you- resent me 2."

"Oh that's- why would you say that?" You chuckle.

"I dunno I'm too drunk to think of movies." He mutters.

"All I've got are rom-coms in my head and those titles are not nearly as fun to fuck with. Two weeks- paleontologist?"

"Paleontologist!? What movie was that even supposed to be?"

"Two weeks notice. Duh."

"I don't think I know that one." He frowns.

"It's about a woman who ends up working as the PA for some rich businessman when she tries to protest something he's trying to build- I forget the details but he turns out to be a giant useless manchild and when he disrupts her personal life for something frivolous she tries to quit but somehow they fall in love or whatever. It's been a while since I've watched it honestly." You shrug.

"Rom-coms are such a curious collection of movies."

"True but that one is pretty average compared to some others I've seen."

"Do you watch a lot of them?"

"I like to laugh at them mostly." You say. "You know what's a weird one? The Notebook."

"Is that not like- a classic?"

"I mean yeah but like the guy gets the girl to go on a date with him by dangling off of a moving ferris wheel."

"And that works?"

"Somehow! I mean I guess she didn't wanna feel responsible for him dropping himself off the wheel in front of an audience but I dunno it seems like he was just looking for reasons to die in that movie." You explain. "Although I never finished that movie maybe he does die. Except then it wouldn't be a rom-com I guess. It would be more tragedy, like in the Shakespearean sense."

"You are always somewhere else." Matt laughs.

"Not always! Oh! I brought that CD you wanted to borrow. We should play it." You sit up suddenly and grab your backpack.

"Are you sure all you've had is that bottle of wine?" Matt asks sitting up slowly from where he's laying on the floor.

"Where's your player?" You ignore his question.

"Should be in the bookcase." He waves absentmindedly.

"Do you want another beer while I'm up?" You ask walking over to the radio to pop the CD.

"Nah. I'm good thanks." He says. Music fills the apartment, and you can't help but sing along to the upbeat tune from Matt's CD player. You dance, well mostly spin, around the apartment giggling as you go.

"Are you dancing?" Matt turns towards you with a smile on his face although you're not looking at him.

"Of course I am- I love this song. Do you wanna dance with me?" You ask walking towards him, still dancing but less now so you can get where you're going.

"No no- I'll leave the dancing to you." Matt says before you make it all the way over to where he's sitting on the floor.

"Suit yourself." You shrug but when you attempt to change directions you trip on your backpack still on the floor and go tumbling towards the ground. Matt moves quicker than you'd expect for a blind guy off several beers but his arms shoot out and yank you towards him before your head hits the hardwood.

"Careful y/n." He says softly as he settles you into his lap.

"Do I need to be if you're here?" You joke smiling at him as you toss your arms over his shoulders.

"Y/n-" Matt's tone is warning in a way only he could get away with using on you.

"Relax Matty, I know to look after myself." You say quietly. Matt frowns slightly as if he's going to protest, but you don't let him get the words out. Alcohol coursing through your system, you seize the opportunity of his closeness and kiss him before you can talk yourself out of it. Matt lets out a noise of surprise, he heard your heart rate spike sure but he couldn't have guessed this was why. His lips move against yours for a second before something catches his attention and he's gasping out a name. Except, it's not your name.

"Karen." He breathes and it reaches your ears like a bucket of ice water dumped on your head. You jerk back suddenly.

"Oh my god-" You say scrambling out of his lap. "I- I am so sorry. I'm gonna go." You grab your bag and b-line it for the exit before Matt can even get to his feet.

"H-hang on a second y/n I-"

"I'll- I'll see you around Matt." You force yourself to say before leaving his apartment. You feel sharper than the amount of wine you've had should allow as you walk the few blocks to your place. Only once you're back in the safety of your own home do you let yourself wallow over how absolutely embarrassing that was. You might have just ruined one of the most important relationships in your life only for him to call out for another girl. You stumble into the shower in hopes of washing away some of the embarrassment you feel, or at the very least distracting yourself enough that you can shelf it and get some sleep. You spend hours tossing and replaying the moment excruciatingly but eventually, exhausting wins out and you do fall asleep. The next couple of days you pretty much ignore Matt's calls and texts. You really bury yourself in work to avoid dwelling on that awful night but you know you can't dodge him forever. Evidently, two days is as much as Matt's willing to give you to do so because on day 3 of avoidance he comes knocking at your door late at night as he sometimes does.

"Look- I know you've been avoiding me and all but-"

"Whatever you're gonna say Matt no need. I'm sorry I overstepped, I- I totally misread things the other night but hey- alcohol will do that sometimes. I'm sorry. We're good though. I'm good. I just needed a minute to lick my wounds of embarrassment. Everything's fine. Come on let's see the damage tonight hm?" You lead him into your apartment ignoring the confused look on his face. You let yourself settle back into your routine with him, patching him up, giving him food, getting him up to speed on the last couple of days of your life, telling stories, and just talking until he falls asleep on your couch. You're determined to shake this stupid crush of yours off and go back to the way things have always been between you. And if you're gonna shake this crush step one is putting yourself out there. Which you do, and for the next few weeks you find yourself on dates almost every night. Tonight's date is going surprisingly well all things considered. He'd planned to take you somewhere that ended up being closed after a freak accident the other day that he didn't know about. It was around the corner from Josie's so you brought him here instead and the conversation has been well worth it- even in a place like this. The one downside is that it's Friday and Foggy and Karen usually drag Matt here for drinks on Friday. You had hoped they'd skip out on that tonight but you of course could only be so lucky. When the bell over the door rings and you turn to see Karen leading Matt into the bar with Foggy behind them you almost want to groan. Dating has been nice but seeing Karen and Matt so close is like picking a scab. You turn back to your date with a smile, intent on ignoring the trio, except of course it couldn't be that simple.

"Oh my gosh! Y/n! Hey!" Karen beams at you.

"Karen! Hi! Foggy, Matt, good to see you all." You smile.

"You didn't tell us you'd be here tonight." She says.

"Well I didn't plan on it otherwise of course I'd have let you know." You tell her. "James this is Karen and that's Foggy and Matt. They're friends of mine. They all work together we've- kind of crashed their spot tonight." You tell your date.

"Oh! Well, any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Nice to meet y'all." James shakes each of their hands. "Did you guys- wanna join us? Since it's pretty crowded in here you might not find another table."

"That's so nice of you James!" Karen says. Very nice indeed.

"I'll track down some chairs." Foggy says. You shift your seat closer to James to make room at the table since apparently they'll be joining you. You try not to pay too much attention to Matt's silence as everyone settles around the table.

"So y/n, you told James how we know you but you didn't mention how you know James. Are you guys work colleagues or something?"

"We have a mutual friend that set us up." James offers.

"Oh my gosh! We're crashing a date?! Why didn't you say so?" Karen shakes her head.

"No no no don't even worry about it, we've been here a couple of hours already. I invited you to sit with us so the night could go on." He says.

"Asking me, also would have worked." You smile.

"You guys are just the cutest." Karen sighs.

"I'm guessing this is a first date since- y/n's never mentioned you before." Matt says.

"It is. Not that I have to tell you about every guy I see." You say.

"You tell me everything." He scoffs.

"That's not true and even if it were that doesn't change the fact that I don't have to."

"So you keep things from me?"

"Am I missing something?" James chuckles.

"Matt and y/n have been friends since they were teenagers. They fight like they're siblings sometimes." Foggy explains.

"Sorry about that James. Matt's just-"

"Like a brother- I get it. I have siblings so I definitely know what it's like." He nods.

"Exactly." You smile.

"Like a brother." Matt quirks an eyebrow at you.

"As good a way as any to describe us." You nod. Matt hums and raises his glass to his lips without another word. The five of you sit and talk over drinks for another hour before you're ready to leave and James is happy to walk you out.

"I had a lot of fun tonight." He tells you.

"Even with the date crashers?" You ask with a goofy grimace.

"Heck yeah! Your friends are great." He laughs. "Next time I'll have my friends crash us. How about that?"

"Next time?"

"If you're willing. I'd really like to see you again."

"I- I'd like that." You nod.

"Cool. I'll- start coming up with second date ideas."

"Hopefully this time the place you pick doesn't impromptu have an incident." You laugh.

"I will quadruple check." He tells you. When you reach your block, but not your building, you stop and turn to him.

"Sounds good. I'll see you around James." You smile. He leans forward and kisses your cheek softly.

"Goodnight y/n." He says and walks away. You make it up to your apartment, kick off your shoes, and take a long shower. You enjoyed talking to James and you actually are interested in seeing him again for sure. Soon you're showered and pajamaed and pretty much ready for bed but before you can flop into it there's a knock at your door. Who could be knocking on your door right now? A quick check shows you it's Matt standing in your hallway.

"Matthew?" You open the door with a frown.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Well- right now I'm wondering what you're doing in my apartment."

"Like a brother to you?! Seriously? Last time I checked most people don't make out with their brothers."

"Depends on where you are I suppose." You shrug. "But regardless Matt that was a mistake we both know that." You shake your head.

"A mistake? Is that how you feel about it?"

"How I- I'm sorry did you forget calling out Karen's name while I was kissing you?! Cuz I've been trying to so if you've got tips to share on how that'd be great."

"Goddammit y/n." He sighs dropping his head.

"Matt you really should go. I know you worry or whatever but- James is, nice and it's late I'd like to go to bed."

"Screw James." Matt scoffs.

"Um- it was only our first date- you're skipping a few steps."

"That is not what I- it's like you do this on purpose."

"What are you doing here Matt?" You sigh.

"I don't like you dating him. I don't like you dating anyone for that matter. How could you kiss me like that and just... move on like nothing?"

"I dunno it's pretty easy when you call me the wrong name." You say.

"That was not what you think."

"I'm sure."

"It wasn't y/n. I'm serious. I could-" Matt stops and lets out a breath. "I'm Daredevil." He says.

"I know." You nod.

"What? You know?"

"You come in here at the witching hour every few days covered in bruises Matt how many explanations could there possibly be for that?" You roll your eyes.

"You never asked."

"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready." You shrug. "Why tell me now?"

"Since I can't see- my other senses make up for the loss. They're like- very developed. I heard Karen scream somewhere in Hell's Kitchen, she sounded like she was in trouble that's- that's why I called out her name. I thought maybe one of Daredevil's many enemies managed to connect her to me. It wouldn't be the first time, I'm always listening for her and Foggy these days and I just-"

"Well was she in danger?" You ask.

"Nightmare." He mutters. "But by the time I pieced that together you were gone."

"Of course I was. Having a man say someone else's name when you kiss him is not something that encourages-" Matt cuts off your snarky remark by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you. You react quickly, kissing him back, your hands wrapping around his wrists. By the time you pull away from him, you're breathing heavily.

"I'm in love with you. I have been for as long as I can remember. I'm sorry I wasn't clear about it." He says.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Well in my defense I've spent the last few weeks trying to get over you-" Matt kisses you again, hard, possessive, fiery.

"Don't." He says.

"Obviously." You grab the collar of his shirt and kiss him again. You spent years thinking you'd never get to kiss him, now that you know the truth you fully intend to take advantage and Matt has years of pining he wants to make up for.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil fluff #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil #requests

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marvelobsessed134 · 1 month

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Bloody kisses

Based off the request above by @rocklive44

My first time writing for Dracula, so excited!

Pairings: Dracula x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, biting and blood (obviously cause hes a vampire), somnophelia, my attempt at writing old timey smut 😭

You had gone looking for your brother, Renfield. Now it’s no secret he’s gone mad these past few months having taken up a residency at the local asylum. But he escaped again and you wanted to find him and make sure he’s okay. You learned he tended to frequent a castle of all places. One that seemed to be abandoned but well kept at the same time. Like some lived there but not a human.

You walked through the draw bridge and towards the two large front doors. Using the big knocker, you knocked, waiting for an answer. A few seconds later the two doors opened on their own. Which did set you back a bit, but you were determined to find your brother.

Taking a deep breath you stepped inside, your heels clicking against the floor. The castle was very grand, tall ceilings, a grand entryway and staircase. A prefect gothic fortress. After you got done looking around the entryway you jumped when you saw a man standing at the top of the stairs. He had skin as white as snow, slicked back black hair, a long black cape, white dress shirt underneath with some black pants and loafers. He looked so peculiarly handsome. Dangerous, even. But not dangerous physically. Dangerous in the way he made you feel.

“Um…hello. I’m here looking for my brother, Renfield. I heard he escaped the hospital again and I was told he frequents here a lot. Are you a friend of his?”

A smile spread across the man’s face, “Ah, he’s told me lots about you, Y/n.” His accent was thick and you couldn’t figure out where it came from.

“Oh! Well I hope they’re all good things.” You chuckled nervously, “is he here?” As you spoke you stepped closer to the staircase.

“He’s not here at the moment. But may I show you to a nice meal?” The raven haired man stepped down till he reached you, offering his arm for you to take.

You blushed, “Sure…I guess I don’t see any harm in that.” Oh, how oblivious you were.

you let him lead you up the stairs into a large room with a fire place, bed, and table & chairs. There was already food on the table with two glasses of wine. The liquid in one of the glasses seemed so much dark than the other but you didn’t pay any mind to it.

“Wow, you must’ve already been expecting someone.” You said.

“Yes. But they seem to have abandoned our dinner plans.”

“Oh.” You gave a sad look, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s quite alright now I have a beautiful lady in my presence.” You blushed at his words.

After you sat down you dug right into the meal, not realizing how hungry you were. “Say, I never got your name.” You asked.

“Dracula.” He responded.

You lifted your eyebrows in surprise at the exotic sounding name, “Very interesting name. Are you from somewhere other than here?”

“I’ve lived in Transylvania my entire life.” He responded.

You watched as he drank his wine, slowly. It seemed like that was his meal. Odd.

After you finished your food you saw the grandfather clock in the corner, “Oh, my! It is getting rather late, I must head home!”

When you stood up to head towards the door Dracula gently grabbed your arm, “It is too dangerous out there for a little girl like you. You can sleep here for the night.”

“Oh, why, I couldn’t be a burden!”

“You would be the opposite, actually.” Oh, there you go again blushing at his words.

“Okay then…I guess I’ll just head to bed.” You pulled back the covers and hopped into bed, relishing in how comfortable it was. You pulled the covers over you and called out to Dracula, “Goodnight Mr-“ but he always already gone.

Late in the night, you swore you felt a presence by you in your sleep. Dracula loomed over you admiring the rise and fall of your chest. Your plump lips as you snored softly. Your hair splayed out on the pillow. Carefully, he pulled back the covers, exposing your body to him.

The vampire undid your blouse and pulled off your skirt, along with your underwear. Your nipples hardened at being exposed to the cold air of the castle. He lightly touched the sensitive buds, pinching them slightly. He didn’t wanna taste you-not yet-because he’d be too tempted to draw your blood.

So he rid himself of his clothes and let his hand wander down to your core. You were already soaking wet which made him grin from ear to ear. His fingers entered you expertly, pumping in and out at a steady pace.

You squirmed and moaned in your sleep, your brows furrowing as he worked his magic. “Sweet little lamb.” He whispered, just as you shot awake. You were embarrassed, scared, and turned on.

“Mr. Dracula! Why, what on earth are you doing?” You asked, making no effort to move out of his grasp as he continued to finger you.

“You’re too sweet for me to ignore, little one.” The man responded, his accent making you even more turned on.

You moaned as he sped up his actions, sending you to orgasm before you even knew it. “Oh!” You cried out, echoing amongst the stone walls.

He quickly lined his cock up to your entrance and pushed himself in, wasting no time to thrust into you over and over again. His calloused hands found their way to your hips, keeping you still while he plowed into you. You moaned and cried out. He groaned and rolled his eyes, muttering praises.

It was so sinful, oh so sinful. You weren’t married to him! But you didn’t want him to stop, it felt so good.

“Fuck!” You huffed as he repeatedly hit your special spot. The vampire found himself getting closer to the edge and right as he came, he lost complete control and bent forward to sink his fangs into your neck. You screamed in both pain and pleasure, the stabbing feeling in your neck and his seed filling your womb.

You should’ve known something was off about Dracula. He was a creature of the night. But part of you let yourself fall victim to him, letting him consume you in anyway he wanted.

#dracula 1931 x reader #dracula x reader #Dracula #vampire x reader #vampire x human #vampire smut #1930s horror

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xxsugarbonesxx · 8 months

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miguel tingz that wont leave my brain

a/n: I have a few thoughts on my wife Miguel that echo through the vast emptiness I call my noodle. Please be nice to me this is my first time :,(. Think of this as word vomit, enjoy. Or don't, I don't care, I'm not your mom. Slight NSFW at the end if you squint????

I think this is kinda like he retires as spidey and settles down. He marries (you in this senario) and has a couple kids, now that he doesn't have to save the universe constantly, he's much more relaxed, but his previous life does tend to slip out here or there.

Bro has a dad bod, his arms and legs are thick with muscle, he's still got those big ass hands and super strength. But now he was a chubby tummy, with lots and lots of hair. A thick happy trail that leads down to the base of his thick cock. Arm, leg and chest hair, maybe he's got a bit of a trimmed beard moment?? I feel like he has a short wolf cut now, something kinda shaggy but doesn't touch his neck just yet.

I feel like Miguel enjoys danishes. Stuff with light icing, flaky pastry insides and some sort of berry. I think he'd like cherry or black berry the most. Bear claws too, almond desserts 'n' such. But the danishes are the sweetest thing he can eat. His teeth are really sensitive to cold and sugar. But I like to think he get something sugar-y as a treat for himself very rarely and just powers through the discomfort.

He has a very thought out and meticulous hair routine. Maybe skin too, I dunno...but his bathroom sink is full of fancy product he uses, if you were to use some of it without his knowing, he'd know exactly how much was used by holding the container. He's very precise, mans has spent YEARS perfecting his routine to get everything just so. He likes feeling handsome and clean I feel.

He smells warm. Something cozy, like fresh citrus, firewood and dark chocolate. Paired with his natural musk, bro smells heavenly. He has a lot of colognes, fancy rich guy colognes to be more specific. The man is rolling in it. He keeps the lights on at the Spider Society, that power bill has to be atrocious by just looking at the architect of the building. And his universe is set in the future, so inflation has to make it even worse.

He dances like a dad. Specifically a dad who loves to embarrass his kid(s). Thought this was a normal get together and daddy dearest would finally behave? NOPE. I feel like he has that one song that just sets him off, that one song that makes him have his little 'dance like no body's watching moment'. So much so said kid(s) would shudder as the beginning would play. And he'd maintain eye contact through out it. He's dancing and he's staring his kid(s) down, the ultimate power move, reminding them there's nothing they can do and pops will always be there when they need him the least to embarrass them.

He'd be very warm and sweet and doting to his kid(s) and you, though he can kinda be sassy with them. But anyone outside of his circle, he'd be very cold like how we see him during the movie. He totally talks shit about people he doesn't like to you. "Can you believe Sonia's husband, he's such a tool. I really--I honestly just can't with him..." He'll say as he sighs, massaging his temple as he nurses a glass of red wine.

He's a wine mom, he'll end the week on the couch with a cheesy telenovela that he's lowkey obsessed with though plays it off like it's nothing. Sipping his glass curled up with you, going back and forth between watching the show and gossiping like a auntie. If you work, he needs to know the scoop. Tyler is married to Pamela but Pamela is swapping spit with that Melina? His undivided attention.

He cuddles. If you've every shared a bed with a bernese mountain dog, you know what I'm talking about. His whole body weight on you, his head on your shoulder and his legs tangled with yours. I feel like he sleeps naked, skin on skin, keeping you nice and warm all night long as he snores. He cock warms too, his fat cock pushed deep inside you, your velvet walls cradling his length as you two spoon. If he wakes up first, he'll slowly buck his hips into you with his nose buried into your hair. The sound of soft claps and sweaty grunts as your wake up call.

#atsv miguel #2099<3 #miguel o'hara #fluffy #domestic miguel #spiderman 2099 #miguel headcanons

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trashboatprince · 8 months

Note

For the writing meme aziraphale crowley with "I've got your back, ok?" please?

Sounds good! :D

On with the fic!

"Crowley!" Aziraphale shouted in distress when the addressed demon waltzed into the shop. "Oh, Crowley, I need your help!"

Crowley blinked slowly behind his shades, stopping in his task of heading for the back room. "Uh, what's the matter? Did someone touch one of your first editions with sticky fingers?"

"No, no! It's not that, it's just..." Aziraphale looked antsy, pacing in a small circle. Crowley waited patiently, knowing that it was best to let the angel gather his thoughts before speaking again.

Aziraphale stopped, let out a small breath, then turned to face him, frowning deeply. "I made a mistake."

"A mistake."

"Yes, you see, I tend to schedule things for myself, events for the month, what days some of my favorite restaurants want me to stop by for taste testing, when Maggie wants to have tea with me while we listen to her record collection, all that!"

Crowley nodded, gesturing for him to continue. "Right, well, I noticed my schedule for today at half past two is the auction. You know the one, I was telling you about it."

"The one with those books and manuscripts from the Eastern Mediterranean, yes?"

Aziraphale's pleased smile made Crowley's insides feel like melted butter on fresh bread. "Oh, you were listening! Anyway, yes, well, I had already planned to go to the auction to obtain some of the items, or at least try my hand at getting them. I've got my eyes on a certain manuscript..."

"But?"

"But I had made a huge mistake! At the exact same time, I'm meant to be dealing with new clientele on this street, and I'm the landlord of the building! I had mistaken the date, I had thought it was next month, but no, it's today, and I can't change it on that young couple. They're looking forward to opening up their bakery of... well..." A blush came over his face for a second. "It certainly fits the spirit of SoHo and its history with adult... enjoyments."

Crowley grinned. "An erotic bakery? Cute. So, what's the problem?"

"I can't cancel on them, the meeting is to be done today so they can get started with renovations for the shop as soon as possible. And the auction is only today, once the sells are done, they're done!"

The demon crossed his arms, tilting his head. "Sooooo... it's either do your job, or go and blow your money on rare goods?"

"You make it sound like a bad thing..."

"No, no, I'm just thinkin' aloud." Crowley rolled his head. "Alright, I'll help. You wanna do the auction and I do the landlord thing?"

Aziraphale's smile could rival the sun's brightness. "Y-you'd do it? Really?"

"'s no problem, angel, I've had to do the landlord thing for you a few times in the past, remember? I think I helped with setting up the lease for that one shop, that music guy, the one that likes Doctor Who. Remember? You had to do that mission in Canada."

"Ah, yes, I remember! Oh, thank you, so much!"

"Eh, don't thank me. I've got your back, okay? Like I always do, just take me to that nice wine bar later tonight in return, yeah?"

"Of course, of course." Aziraphale said, still smiling, before grabbing Crowley's hands, giving them a squeeze. "You are simply the best, Crowley, how can I ever repay you?"

Crowley made a noise with his throat that sounded like a vacuum that sucked up something it shouldn't have. He turned his head away, not wanting to look at that beautiful face. "W-wine bar! That's enough of a thanksssss! Now, go get yourself dolled up, you've got some ancient nerd stuff to purchase."

I dunno why I picked erotic bakery, but it's SoHo, and canonically Aziraphale's shop is right next to an adult shop. Oh, and Mrs. Sandwich works there and we all know what sort of business she runs. :)

#good omens #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #john's drabbles

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astermath · 1 year

Note

hey aster, happy 1k!!! love your work and you fully deserve all the love💗💗

so i’m sending in a prompt from idiots to lovers (“you’re so cute.” “what did you just say?” “i said you look like a boot.”) for robin buckley because this literally SCREAMS her

aww tysm that’s so sweet, hope you enjoy and ty for sending in a request! <3

♡ aster's 1K celebration ♡

wc: 0.9K

tags: lovestruck robin, crushing, fem!reader (duh), just some pining lol, not rlly proofread! normal sized font below

Robin is a girl that tends to fall hopelessly in love. She can’t simply have a crush, or think someone is cute, no, she always falls head over heels, straight into a vat of hearts and sappy confessions.

And usually that’s fine, that works for her. Her crushes give her a reason to go to school, to get stuff done, to put extra effort into her appearance. But she tends to admire from a distance. She knows how much she talks, and how hard it is to stop talking too.

That’s why she usually just sticks to looking at you from a distance, cheek leaning against the palm of her hand as she daydreams about the dates you could go on. In the timeline where she musters up the courage to talk to you.

But it seems that the universe has other plans. The universe being your English teacher, and the plans being a duo project about a country of your choosing.

You couldn’t choose your groups, which you didn’t mind, you could work with just about anyone. You’re smart, you could probably do this whole thing by yourself.

But to Robin, this was a huge deal. She’d never even talked to you before, besides the one time she had to apologise for bumping into you in the hallway. She still dreams about that interaction.

And now she’s gone for embarrassingly daydreaming about you to sitting in your room, surrounded by books about Italy, writing down interesting facts and discussing the order of the presentation.

But her mind is only halfway there. It’s hard to focus on wine, Rome, and pasta when you’re sitting right in front of her like this. The sunlight coming through the window is hitting your skin just right, she can smell your perfume, and your PJ shorts are the cutest she’s ever seen.

“So, do you have anything to add, or can I start writing out my part of the presentation already?”

“You look so cute.” The words leave her lips before they can even register in her own brain. It’s like her body has decided it needs to tell you how adorable you look, without her mind being able to pull the brakes at all.

You look up, quirking an eyebrow, clearly confused by what you’ve heard. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“Ah! I, uh—“ She sits up straighter, her eyes averting to the papers scattered in front of her, cheeks tinging pink from embarrassment. She’s not great at coming up with excuses, but she doesn’t exactly have a choice right now.

“I said you uh… You look like a boot.”

Shit.

She could have slapped herself right then and there.

'Seriously, Buckley? A boot? That’s the best thing you could come up with? Not fruit, or something else nice?'

“Oh,” You look up, scratching the back of your neck for a moment. “Well, like a nice boot?”

“What qualifies as a nice boot?”

“I don’t know,” you smile, leaning backwards onto your hands. “I like cowboy boots. And gogo boots are cute too.”

“Huh. I see.” She tries not to make it seem like a big deal, but she enjoys learning small things like this about you.

A few moments pass, and she’s already got her nose shoved back into a book while you try to write down a good introduction.

“Did you actually have something to add though?” You ask, looking up from your paper.

“To the presentation?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I don‘t know.” She puts the book down, thinking it over for a moment. “Maybe that the word America comes from the Italian language?”

"Huh, seriously? That's really cool." You smile, and it makes the blood rush straight to her cheeks again. You're already noting it down under the 'fun facts' section of the presentation, your pen scribbling away as Robin tries to compose herself.

"Yeah, uh, Vespucci came up with it. Italian explorer." She fiddles with the bit of frayed fabric at the hem of her shirt to keep her hands busy.

"You're really smart, aren't you?" You flash her another smile, and she thinks it actually might kill her this time. There's no way someone could look this pretty.

"Oh, uhm... I-- I guess." She chuckles bashfully. "You're pretty smart too, though. You always know the answers to like, every question in class. Even though you never raise your hand."

You grin, knowing damn well that's out of pure laziness and not shyness at all. "Yeah, I guess so. 'M glad I got stuck with you on this assignment though. You're full of interesting facts, Buckley."

She smiles, averting her eyes in hopes of not looking like the complete lovestruck fool she is. "Yeah, well, maybe I'll teach you some Italian here and there too."

"Wait-- you speak Italian?" You sit up straight, eyes practically sparkling after finding out this new juicy bit of information.

"Well, only halfway so, but I like learning languages. Keeps the brain juicy, you know?"

You chuckle at that, leaning your elbows onto your knees and letting your cheeks rest on your palms. "You're somethin' else, you know that Buckley?"

"You're one to talk."

"Well, you did say I looked like a boot. I guess that counts as 'something else'."

The both of you start laughing, and suddenly she doesn't feel so bad about her slipup from earlier anymore. Or this project. Bless the universe for putting her in your room that day.

#robinmath #aster writes stranger things #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley blurb #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley #robin buckley stranger things #robin buckley fic #robin buckley oneshot #aster's 1K celebration!

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count-alucard-tepes · 1 year

Text

King👑 x reader

An Unexpected encounter...Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

During his healing, King made sure not to get in Katakuri's way especially after their last encounter and spent his time with Y/N. He had to admit, it was nice being at her home and looking at things that she was interested in, he felt like he learned so much more about her. Each day, he fell deeper and deeper in love with her, no one had ever showed him such kindness other than Kaido but this was completely different. The way she tended to his wounds with gentle hands...scolding him when he didn't take his medication...sometimes he felt he did things on purpose just so that she would be more attentive towards him. It was selfish, he’d admit that much...but he couldn't help it. He had never felt so comfortable in his own skin that he didn't even feel that he required his mask anymore, she had that power to make him feel at home.

"...Y/N...let's sit out on the porch for a while...its so warm tonight", King said as he took their glasses of wine and headed outside.

She smiled a little and followed him, "...I love nights like this...", she said as she took a seat and sipped her wine.

He nodded in agreement, "...it's been a few weeks since I was brought here and I've fully healed...you know what that means, Y/N".

She frowned a little when he mentioned this because he knew all too well this conversation was going to be brought up. Katakuri never mentioned it and he wouldn't, she knew he wouldn't try to take away her happiness even if it was a thorn in his side. Her heart raced as she knew he would be saying he would be leaving soon, biting back the tears, she'd look to him and nod.

"I know, love...you need to go find him and your crew...I understand...I always have", she said gently as she reached out and held his hand.

He leaned down and kissed her hand gently before taking her glass of wine and putting it aside. He pulled her close to him and kissed her lips slowly before resting his forehead against hers.

"...come with me...", he said gently as he wrapped his arms around her waist, "...we can leave being pirates regardless if Kaido is alive or not...we could make our home in Skypeia...just us".

This surprised Y/N, she didn't think he would ask her to come with him but it was happening. Her heart raced as she listened to him, she did want a life with him. She loved him so much but there was a part of her that didn't want to go...

How she could leave Big Mom's pirates after all they did for her? How she could she leave Katakuri? The only family she ever had who protected her like she was their own.

She kissed him gently and hugged him tightly, "...I love you so much...but...", her voice trailed off as she nuzzled into him.

"...but you love him too", he whispered as he held her close to him. King already knew the relationship she had with Katakuri, he protected her like a big brother should even though she could hold her own, he understood why his was a difficult decision and he would not force her to do anything rash.

"...whatever you decide, I will support you....it is not the end of us...whether you are here and I am not...I will still come and see you as much as I can till we figure things out", King said with a smile as he kissed her cheek lovingly.

She buried her face into his neck and sighed softly as she needed to think about her decision that would completely change her life.

_________________________________________

A knock on his office door would get Katakuri's attention, he already knew it was Y/N, "...come in", he'd say gently as he continued to look at a map.

She walked in and closed the door behind her, "...hey".

He looked up at her, "...hm....you sound rather deflated than normal....what did he do?", he asked as he straightened and moved over to the front of his desk before leaning against it.

"...he didn't do anything but he is healed now and he's planning to leave in a few days", she said gently. She didn't maintain eye contact with him like she normally did and she seemed nervous...very unlike herself.

He frowned a little, "...I understand this is upsetting for you, Y/N...but don't rely on a man to make you happy...you will see him again, he loves you...and I will allow him to come back and see you if that is what you desire".

She pouted when he said that! She was a strong, independent woman who was just in love for the first time! And she had a lot on her mind, King wasn't the source of her happiness...not completely! Why'd he have to be right and annoying at the same time?!

"...he asked me to come with him", she blurted out. She wasn't sure how he was going to react but her eyes were already filling with tears.

Katakuri raised a brow slightly before crossing his arms across his chest, "...you're not going....", he said calmly, "...not permanently at least".

Y/N looked at him in shock and wanted to speak but she was silenced by his raised hand.

"...this will always be your home...you are always welcome to come back if things don't work out like you thought they would...and if you ever need anything or for me to just kick his ass....you call me and I will come", Katakuri said calmly.

At every word, Y/N was balling her eyes out, she didn't expect this at all...she knew what happened to Lola...and Chiffon...but those were not his decisions, they were Big Mom's.

He opened his arms and immediately Y/N ran to hug him tightly, crying into his chest as she clung onto him.

"...always so emotional, little bird....your fire on the back of your neck is going to burn my office down and melt me...", he said with a little smile before placing a kiss on her head.

She immediately put her fire off and continued to bury her face into his chest, "...you're the best person in this world...I'll never forget what you've done for me", she whimpered.

He gently rubbed her back as he tried to soothe her. It was difficult to make this decision but how could he deny her? She was in love...and with someone just like her. There was no way he could stand between them. Being the selfless person he was, all he wanted was for all those he cared for to be happy.

____________________________________________

Katakuri would make sure the couple had all they would need for their travels and would go to see them off.

“…a word before you head off, King”, he said calmly before gesturing for him to follow.

King nodded and followed him.

“…I leave Y/N in your care now…if at any point you feel that you can no longer handle her…make sure she is aware that she can come back home…even if you bring her here yourself…I would appreciate that”, he said calmly, “…she’s a good girl, you better take care of her and make sure you don’t upset her…or Mogura will find it’s way into your heart and I don’t mean that in a romantic way”.

King smiled a little in response, “…I understand and I will do my best to keep her happy…she is lucky to have you on her side…”.

“Be careful of the marines now that you both will be in the public eye…the world government are dangerous as you know…stay out of their line of view”, he said gently, “…and if you both need somewhere safe to go….Whole cake Island will welcome you both”.

King was surprised by this and offered his hand to Katakuri, “…thank you, Katakuri…I will never forget this”, he said sincerely.

He nodded and shook KIng’s hand, both maintaining eye contact with each other.

Katakuri would watch the two disappear into the skies before returning back to his duties.

____________________________________________

They would first go to Skypeia, since their last time there King had found a home for them and had been secretly preparing it to surprise her as they had plans to meet ever so often on the sky-land before everything when down on Onigashima.

He would land first at the house, placing their belongings and supplies down before waited for her.

“…whose house is this?”, she asked curiously as she looked at the house and then at King.

“…it’s ours…”, he said with a smile as he offered her his hand.

She raised her brows in response, “…ours? When did you have time to do all of this?”, she asked as she took his hand.

He pulled her close and then scooped her into his arms, bridal style before making his way to the door, “…after our last visit together…I couldn’t resist”.

She gripped him tightly as he carried her and cuddled into his chest as he walked through the door before looking around curiously. Their home was very much like King’s personality, elegant and mysterious…the complete opposite of hers. She’d have to change some of it to making it more of her space too.

“I love it…”, she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him some kisses.

He smiled happily at this, he wasn’t sure if she would but now he was relieved.

Over the next few days, Y/N worked on making their house a home while King tried to find any information on Kaido and his whereabouts.

____________________________________________

Katakuri’s DDM had rang a few times until he finally answered, “…yes?”.

“…hello to you too”, Y/N said with a little smile as she listened to her commander after being away from him for a few weeks.

“…Y/N…are you okay?”, he asked with urgency in his voice to find out if all was well.

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine and this is not an emergency…I just wanted to call you”, she said gently.

“…I see, so he is treating you well?”, he asked gently.

“Yeah, he’s gone out for groceries right now…”, she replied.

“…while you relax and talk to me…why am I not surprised this it would turn out this way”, he said with a roll of his eyes.

She couldn’t help but laugh in response, “Hey! He’s not a pirate anymore…he’s my house husband”, she said teasingly.

“Oh? Are you planning to marry?”, he asked out of curiosity.

“Well…if you’re living together and love each other…doesn’t that imply that we’re already kind of married just without a ceremony”, she said gently.

“…that’s true, never thought you’d be a wife…but here we are”, he chuckled.

She scoffed in response, “…you’re the worst, you know that!”.

Y/N heard him try to stop laughing and just glared at the DDM.

“…maybe I should come visit you soon”, he finally said which made Y/N brighten immediately.

“Yes! You should! It’s so beautiful here, you’d love it”, she said happily, clearly very excited by this.

“…so did he find anything out about Kaido?”, he asked gently.

“No, not yet…he’s hopeful though…they were close so I don’t blame him for not giving up just quite yet…”, she murmured.

“…we have, there is no point in searching anymore…”, Katakuri stated.

“What does that mean?”, she asked in surprise.

“…I am captain now”, he said simply.

Her jaw dropped at this, “Of course you are!! You’re the only one who could do this! Congratulations “, she said happily, practically bouncing in her seat.

He sighed softly as he wished she was back at his side, just having her there would take his mind of everything but he would never tell her this. She was no longer a pirate…she was a wife now.

“…I miss you so much”, she said exactly what he was thinking, “…I hope you’re eating more than just donuts too…they’re not good for your health”.

He smiled a little, “…we’ll see each other soon enough…I have to make sure your new home is up to standard…I have to go now…take care, Y/N and send my regards to King”.

Y/N smiled weakly, “I will…see you soon…”, she said gently before cutting the call.

“…looks like we’re going to be hosting a guest soon”, King said with a little smile as he leaned against the door frame.

She looked up at him and smiled, “…still stalking me as usual I see”, she said before walking over and hugged him tightly.

He chuckled and nuzzled her hair lovingly, “Feeling better?”, he asked gently as he rubbed her back slowly.

She frowned a little and gripped his shirt, “…yeah…much better”, she said knowing she had been thinking about Katakuri for a little while and King just knew what was going on.

“…good, let’s go make dinner…”, he said before tilting her head and gently kissing her lips.

“Deal…”, she whispered into the kiss.

(This chapter was a little emo for me and soooo cutesy!!! I loved it!!! 😭😭😭)

#ooc #one piece #king the wildfire #king one piece #beast pirates #king x reader #lunarian #fanfiction

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2thestars-andbeyond · 2 years

Text

The Fire That Burns Within

This story has nothing to do with the series I had been posting.. I had a bit of writers block, then this idea popped up in my head. So enjoy?

Y/n Archeron is the eldest sister. What will happen when she finally decides to embrace her life as a Fae?

Three brothers for three sisters.. Azriel had always liked the idea of that. But Elian had been spending more and more time with Lucien these days. It didn’t start until Rhysand had told him to stay away from her. But Azriel, he couldn’t help but still be captivated by the youngest Archeron sister. He would hide in the shadows and watch her as she tended to her garden and find himself doing anything in his power to make sure that their paths crossed.

Y/n Archeron, is the eldest sister. She hated being taken away from her life in the mortal lands as she had a lot going for her. She had studied to be a healer and when she took the position as a healer in the village they lived in, she fault as if her life was beginning to come together. Until the day she was kidnapped and taken to Hybern alongside her sisters. Y/n wasn’t suppose to be there that day, but decided since she had a day off, to visit her sisters. After they returned to the Night Court, Y/n had the worst time adjusting to Fae life way worse than Elain and Nesta put together. Rhysand had even offering her a spot as a healer for the night court, as the cauldron had gifted her healing powers. But she refused to leave her room, for months only allowing her sisters and occasionally Mor into her rooms.

Az had only laid eyes on Y/N once before she locked herself in her room, that just so happened to be across from him. He heard her crying at night and the sound of her turning page after page in books during the day. He often wondered if she read the same books Nesta read. Cassian told him that his mate enjoyed reading books of promiscuous topics. But Nesta would always put them off as being romantic. The Shadow Singer had also noticed that Y/N liked to take her meals on the balcony if the day was nice and enjoyed hot baths before bed.

He couldn’t remember much of Y/N features, but he did remember that her hair was more naturally wavy than her sisters, but the same golden brown color. Her eyes were a greenish gray, maybe close to hazel if he remembered correctly. He knew that she helped out a lot with the wounded after the War against Hybern, but never seen her on the battle field as she stayed near the healing tents.

It wasn’t until a few weeks after the war that Y/N had decided to come out of her rooms more. Everyone was shocked to see her enter the dinning room that night. She had to admit that it was nice to have company.

“Y/N.” Rhysand spoke to her that night “We are hosting a ball in a few days time. If you feel up to coming, all the other High Lord’s are invited.”

“Hopefully Tamlin wont show up.” Cassian adds rasing, his glass as the others murmur their agreement.

“I’ll think about it.” Y/N says.

“You really should join us! You would have fun, plus maybe you’ll find another way to relieve your stress then reading those risque books you like so much.” Mor wiggles her eyebrows at Y/n.

“They are romance novels.” Y/N and Nesta say together confirming Azriel’s suspicions.

Mo shrugs and goes on to say, “What ever you say, but the real thing is better than fantasizing about it. I could help you pick out a dress. Maybe a dark green? Or a purple? One to make your eyes pop.” She says excitingly.

“I really don’t want to be any trouble..” Y/N starts.

“Nonsense” Pausing to take a drink of her wine, “It would be my pleasure to get you dolled up”.

It seemed like forever since Y/N had even felt like dressing up or wearing anything other than the silk pajamas Rhysand had been supplying her with. It didn’t take much thought for Y/N to agree to go show up at the ball.

The night of the ball came fast. Almost too fast for Y/N liking. Mor helped her do her hair and makeup. While Mor was putting a nude color on her lips she says sadly, “I hate that you didn’t pick the purple gown. It was so pretty on you.”

Y/N took another look at herself in the mirror. Dark green was always her favorite color and this dress.. She had no words for the way she felt in it. Mor added more gold glitter to her eyes.

“There. All finished.” smiling at the work she had done.

“You look beautiful sister” Elain said.

Y/N gives her sister a smile. “As do you.” Elain wore a pretty pink colored gown, nothing out of the ordinary.

Y/N stood by the table that held the faewine, the music was upbeat and alluring. She glanced out to the dancefloor. Feyre dancing with Rhysand along side Nesta and Cassian, who she must admit looked very comfortable out there. Elain and Lucien were sitting closely side by side on the bench over looking the view of the snow capped mountains. Fairy lights hung over head lighting the night, but not taking away the view of the beautiful stars above.

Azriel approaches Y/N just as the song turns slow, an giving everyone an opportunity to slow dance. Y/N always loved dancing and had to admit that she was fairly good at it. She had taken dance lesson alongside Nesta growing up all because mother had said “A real lady knows her way around the dance floor.”

Y/N smiles as Azriel walks up to her offering his hand. She takes it and he leads them on to the dance floor. She rests her hands on his broad shoulders feeling the tight muscle underneath his suit. He places his hands on her waist. They spend the whole song dancing, not saying a word to one another. It wasn’t an awkward experience for Y/N she just felt strange because she had never even spoke to the Spymaster. Her eyes diverted his burning gaze, looking for anything to put her eyes on, something besides those beautiful hazel orbs. Maybe the star? No that would be too obvious. She decided that over his right shoulder would suffice.

She was met with another burning gaze. Amber colored, similar to those of Luciens. She noticed that the owner of those eyes must be another Vanserra she knew that Lucien had many bothers. But she couldn’t look away from his stare. He wore a green vest with gold embroidery and a white collared shirt underneath which she was sure had a matching waist coat that he had probably disregarded sometime throughout the night. Azriel spun her as the song came to an end. The spin had made her slightly dizzy, thanks to the amount of faewine she had consumed since the ball began.

Y/N stumbled a little. Azriel catches her and pulls her in close while the next dance starts.

“I’m sorry” she says, embarrassed and placing a hand on her forehead. “Feyre said the wine was potente, but I didn’t believe her.” she says giggling. Y/N places her hand on Azriel’s chest and he leads them both around the dance floor in time to the upbeat music From a far Feyre is watching and nudges her mate and nods toward where Y/N and Az are dancing around the dance floor, her dress twirling around her. Rhysand smiles as he sees his brother has a smile on his face.. As the song ends, he bows to her and she curtsies.

Out of breath, Azriel takes her hand and places a kiss to her knuckles, “Thank you for the dance.” “Y/N smiles back hoping he doesn't notice the blush on her face.

“Excuse me” A voice sounds from beside them, “May I?” Azriel turns to see Eris. Azriel deadpans the Heir and then simply nods and steps back.

This dance is a slow one, as she sees others holding each other close. Eris offers her a hand and she takes it. He leads her to the middle of the dance floor and she places her hands on his shoulders and his hands go to her hips.

“I don’t think we have had the pleasure of meeting.” Purrs Eris and a shiver goes down Y/N’s spine.

“I am Y/N Archeron.”

“Another Archeron?” Eris muses. “Eris Vanserra.”

After a moment of silence he goes on to say, “I wasn’t aware that there was a forth sister.”

“That’s how I like it. Well liked it anyway. Not that I don’t love my sisters, don’t get me wrong they are my best friends. Sorry, I’m rambling. I blame the wine. I always get like this when I drink wine.” Y/N notices Eris staring at her and she blushes.

“Yes the wine here in the fae lands is a lot different than what is in the mortal lands.” He stares into her eyes noting how the color of her dress brings out the color of her eyes. A color he finds himself lost in. After a long moment he finds himself saying, “The color green suits you. Your dress is very Autumn Court”

“That what Mor said.” Y/N rolls her eyes. “She hated this dress, but just between me and you,” Y/N leads in closer to Eris’ ear “That just made me love it even more.” Shes whispers.

“It is truly lovely. You would fit in so well in my court.” Eris says and mentally slaps himself. What is wrong him him? He hasn’t felt this way over a female in centuries.

The music grows into a crescendo and Eris gracefully sends Y/N in a spin that has others darting out of their way. The waltz continues and they use the parted dance floor to their advantage. Y/N emerald skits are flowing around them like a beautiful sea of green. As the song comes to a close, Eris dips Y/N. Both breathing fast their chests almost touching.

Eris leds Y/N to the balcony and they spend the rest of the night talking and laughing. For the first time since she was Made, Y/N feels alive. Azriel watches Y/N the whole night and watches his dream of three brothers being mated to three sisters go up in flames, again.

Sending a goodnight to Rhys, through his mind deciding rather than hurt himself more, to call it a night. Knowing he wouldn’t sleep at all. With a sigh, Azriel turns and runs into someone.

“I’m sorry.” Gwyn smiles at Az. Shes wearing the necklace that he gave her this past winter solstice

“That’s okay. I’m actually going to head up to bed”

“Really? I was on my way to say goodnight to everyone too. This really isn’t my thing.” Gwyn says. And there it is that feeling in Azriel’s chest again, the one that he cant explain. He stares at her.

“Well goodnight then. I’ll see you tomorrow at training.” He says finally. Gwyn nods and smiles at him as he brushes past her.

As the night comes to an end everyone starts to say their goodbyes to one another.

“It was nice to meet you, Eris.” Y/N says wishing the night didn’t have to end.

“Hopefully we can see each other again soon.” Kissing her knuckles for the second time tonight as she curtsies to him. He turns and is met with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court who both look as though they have questions.

“I see you have met my eldest sister?” Feyre questions

“Yes I have. She was great company to have tonight.” Eris says smiling at Y/N

“Yes we are glad to see that Y/N has finally begin to come out of her shell.” Rhysand stares at Eris, not sure of the hires true intentions.

“Thank you for having me tonight. In your lovely.. Home.” Eris stares back at Rhys giving him the same expression.

“Darling,” Feyre draws Rhysand out of his staring contest, “I have to go tend to Nyx. Elain says he is awake and she can’t get him to stop crying.”

“Okay darling” Kissing Feyre’s forehead and giving Eris one last look, they turn and head towards the stairs.

“Well that was pleasant?” Laughs Y/N

“Yeah, Rhysand has his opinions about me. As does everyone in this Court. I’m honestly surprised you chose to spend your night with me. You looked as though you were having quite a bit of fun with the Shadow Singer, before I cut in.”

“Oh. Az left with Gywn some time ago. And besides, I don’t listen to others opinions. I like to form my own. You seem like you are a good male.” Y/N beams at Eris. Not sure what to think about the warming feeling in her chest.

Eris places his hand on her cheek rubbing his thumb over her full bottom lip. His eyes dart from her eyes to her lips, Y/N’s eyes doing the same. Y/N bites her bottom lip just before Eris closes the distance between them. The kiss is gentle at first Eris wanting to make sure that this is what she really wants.

Y/n can’t be this lonely that she is letting a male that she had just met kiss her, can she? As Eris runs a scorching tongue over her bottom lip, asking for entrance… Yes, yes she can be this desperate she thinks as she deepens the kiss. Running her hands so they interlock at the nape of his neck. Eris snakes a hand so that it rests on the curve of her spine.

Eris breaks the kiss and kisses down her neck. The too warm kisses leaving goosebumps in their wake. As he makes his way back up to her swollen lips, the Heir of Autumn loses himself in the needy kiss he plants there. Placing his hand on the side of her neck his palm growing warmer and warmer with every movement his lips made on hers until….

“Ouch!” Y/n grabs her neck were Eris’ palm was rested. Eris’s eyes grew wide.

“Y/n are you okay. Oh Gods, I swear I didn't mean to– that has never happened before– It’s just that–”

She catches a glimpse of her neck in the window behind him, “You burnt me.” She says, shocked. Eris starts apologizing to her for the hand print that he left on her skin.

“I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt. I guess what I heard was right” she shrugs. Eris’ eyes brows shoot up.

“And what would that be?” He asks

“That Autumn Court males have fire in their veins” Y/n grins at the male in front of her. But Eris just stares at her with concern in his face.

“I am fine. Eris I promise. It will heal. Hopefully in time for breakfast is the morning.” Y/n reassures him. She plants a kiss to his cheek.

“I really hope we can see each other again soon.”

“We will. I will make sure of it. But I’m not sure what the others will think when they see your neck” Y/n places her hand on the hand print that he left on her neck finding it to be warm still.

Eris takes her hand and kisses it one last time before winnowing back to his home court.

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x oc #acotar x you #fanfic

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becauseimanicequeen · 5 months

Note

Hey, Ice Queen!

I saw your post on your bad taste in QLs and loved it. I've watched most of them and guess I've got bad taste too. *proud*

I'm wondering what your favorite ships are, though. Actor pairings in particular.

Have a nice day!

Hi, Anon.

The only ships I like are those I see from the beach five minutes from my house.

I know this might be an anticlimactic answer, but it’s an honest one.

I don’t participate in shipping culture because it’s just not my thing. It’s never been my thing. Not even in the Twilight era in my teens.

Are there pairings I like more than others? Sure. But I don’t mind if they go their separate ways and work with other actors. Sometimes I even feel like some pairings are holding themselves back and should split so they can develop their craft. But I’m aware that my perspective is from a more artistic one (I’m an artist) and that I usually value the craft more than popularity (or cuteness or whatever the reason is for people shipping bl actors together).

In other words, my favorites tend to be actors who can act, regardless of pairings. My favorites are ACTORS, not actors, if you get what I mean.

So, let me steer your nice ask onto a more actor-focused path, and I will try to answer it the best I can (but from my non-shipper perspective). (My memory is fucked, so these are the ones I remember off the top of my head right now.) They’re in no particular order, btw.

First Kanaphan

First has chemistry with everyone. EVERYONE. This man could have a rock as a partner and still have more chemistry than the periodic table. He’s an ACTOR, so much so it seems to be a part of his DNA.

He’s currently in a pairing with Khaotung (whom I also love) and they have great chemistry. But, again, First can be paired with anyone (he had more chemistry with Up Poompat in two 3-ish min ads than many pairings have in a whole 12 ep series). And I would probably be the first one in line to watch him act with others in QLs, if that ever happens again.

Khaotung Thanawat

Khaotung portrays emotions really well, which is why I love him. Not every actor can do that but Khao does it like he’s never done anything else in his entire life. That’s an ACTOR right there!

He and First are two of the few actors who can make me cry with their portrayal of emotions. And if an actor can make me cry (since I’m an ice queen who usually doesn’t), that actor will always have a special place in my heart.

Up Poompat

The ACTOR Up is! This man eats complex characters for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And let’s not forget the snacks in between.

Up is the reason I kept watching Step By Step, he’s the reason I loved Lovely Writer, and just like First, he can have chemistry with anyone. Not to forget that he took ownership of my soul less than a full episode into My Stand-In (which is currently airing).

Fluke Natouch

Another great ACTOR. I’ve loved him in everything I’ve seen him in (even in Shadow, even though Shadow was pretty shitty). I especially loved him in Red Wine in the Dark Night (what’s better than be gay, do crime?) and I would love to see him in more complex roles like this because I know he can handle it.

Gun Atthaphan

Gun is another versatile ACTOR that I love with my whole ice-cold heart. I’ve seen him in more stuff than just pure BLs and know that he, just like Up, eats complex characters every meal.

Considering my current profile pic, you know my favorite series is Not Me, and one of the reasons for that is Gun. He didn’t just play one character in that series, but two. Twins, who were completely different! But you still knew exactly who was whom just by looking at Gun. That’s how great his acting was (and is).

With all that said…

Max Nattapol and Tul Pakorn

If I ever were to board a ship, it would be Max and Tul's. But that’s only based on how desperately I want Transplant. And their chemistry, obviously. And Max fisting his hands in Tul’s hair. But, I wouldn’t be unhealthy about it…

Much…

I’m sure I’ll remember more actors I love as soon as I hit publish on this. But, at least this is a start for now.

Thanks for your ask.

#ask me anything #ice queen answers #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #up poompat #fluke natouch #gun atthaphan #max nattapol #tul pakorn #ql series #when will I get transplant?!#I need transplant #my shit

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patchworkgargoyle · 8 months

Text

oc fic: i wanna be adored

For day two of @strangerthingsocweek!! This is an "official" publication, I guess, of a fic I wrote last year for Dom and Freak. @steddieas-shegoes gave me a lot of inspiration for this one, so thank you so much again, as well as organising this event! You're awesome, Mickala!!

I don't tend to go back and re-read my own work, but re-reading this to make sure it was decent enough to put on tumblr made me realize how much I liked this one. So that's nice!

Pairing: transmasc OMC x Unnamed Freak || Rating: E || Words: ~6.7k|| Tags: modern!au, some emotional self-harming behaviours, rough sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, Dom/sub undertones, impact play, under-negotiated kink, aftercare, first kiss For some context, this is set in @steves-strapcollection's Stranger Things modern!au "here I have found some peace of mind" but after the events of his fic. It also mentions his OCs Charlie and Tig, as well as @sentient-trash's OC Eric! Title from I Wanna Be Adored - The Stone Roses

Coming to this fucking party was a mistake.

Dominik was trying. He was determined to be on his best behaviour and shove his mess aside for the night to at least keep some peace. It wasn’t like he (fully) intended to make this schism worse, he just… he couldn’t always keep his mouth shut. And paid for it. That he was even invited to hang out with his friends and the Corroded Coffin folks tonight was an olive branch from both Tig and Gareth and even if Dom hadn’t gotten hold of the reins of his runaway feelings yet–at all–he was determined to at least try. To put on a brave face, a stiff upper lip, what-have-you.

And, importantly, to try to keep his stupid mouth shut. He didn’t need to poison the air with his usual venom right now.

Even if it meant that Charlie kept shooting him concerned looks. Eric mostly just gave him an awkward pat on the back. Dom knew it was because he’d probably said less than ten whole words all night while he kept his distance from the–understandably, even he can begrudgingly admit–suspicious Coffin boys and their friends.

None of that trying helped, though.

Seeing Tig practically glued to Gareth’s side all fucking night was hellish. And the way he smiled at Gareth… that extra wide grin, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and sparkled every motherfucking time that short shithead cracked a barely funny joke, like he was the sun in Tig’s sky. Uhg. Made Dom want to throw his glass of wine at the wall so hard it shattered, rip his own heart out, and throw it at Gareth’s feet to be stomped to mush so at least it looked how Dom felt. But that was a tad too dramatic, even for him.

So Dom suffered quietly, slowly sipping his only drink of the night and offering the blandest smiles and clipped answers to the very-brave very-few who dared approach him and the figurative thunderstorm brewing over his head. One that snapped into a deluge when he caught sight of them again.

It was awful to watch Tig wrap his arms around Gareth’s waist from behind and nuzzle his face into his neck, his lips moving with whatever secret affections he whispered into that undeserving cunt’s ear–

Tearing his gaze away, he started to take a series of deep, measured breaths, tapping out the time between each on his glass with a finger. He was trying. Trying, god-fucking-damnit.

He cast around for anything else more interesting and less heart wrenching, a distraction, and saw someone else. Someone who also watched Tig and Gareth’s sickening little display, and who Dom knew also held some measure of jealousy about it.

Freak also stood off to the side, just a little ways away from the group. Had this kicked-puppy expression as he stared at the happy couple over the rim of the can. His stunning blue eyes reluctantly left their mutual, though opposite, objects of desire and jealousy and, amusingly, landed on Dom.

Raising his glass in a wry gesture of camaraderie, he took a sip as Freak gave a humourless laugh and followed suit. This wasn’t the first time they’d “commiserated” over their feelings, though Dom was still endlessly bitter that Freak, at least, had gotten to fuck them a few times anyway. Freak had snarled in his ear, while he fucked Dom into the floor, that maybe he could’ve too if he weren’t such a bitch; that had ended with both of them covered in scratches and carpet burns, and had Dom limping for almost a week.

The memory left him feeling a little warm. He held Freak’s gaze and tilted his chin up a little so he could look at him through his lashes, letting a slow smile stretch across his lips. They could both use a distraction, he figured. Why not offer one?

Freak glanced at his friends gathered just a few feet away, then back at Dom, letting his eyes roam lazily down Dom's body. Against the wall, Dom preened under his attention and stood in a way that he knew made his willowy frame look subtly more enticing.

They've danced this dance before so Freak skipped the act of trying to seem disinterested and walked over instead. "Having fun?" he asked dryly, and Dom snorted with a disbelieving stare.

"Does it fucking look like I am?"

"Yup. Really the life of the party over here."

That pulled the tiniest, most reluctant smile from Dom, and he hid it with a sip of wine and a roll of his eyes. He did a sarcastic little bow with a flourish of his free hand, and said, "Welcome to the party, then."

"Happy to be here," Freak replied blandly.

"No you're not." Dominik pointedly looked at Tig and Gareth. "Neither of us are."

Freak laughed. "Fuck, you're miserable."

"Fuck off," Dom snapped, his irritation rising like bile in his throat, "like you're any better."

"Yeah I am."

Freak said it so plainly that Dom wanted to lash out at him. If they weren't here, if they were somewhere private, he would have. Instead he glared up at Freak, feeling caged and prodded at, and started trying to suss out any cracks in the armour of superiority Dom was convinced he hid behind. He'd knock Freak down a fucking peg even if he took himself out at the same time.

"Prove it," Dom demanded, his tone just shy of a growl. He stepped up into Freak's space with a dangerously coy tilt of his head. The closeness reminded Dom of how deliciously overwhelming Freak could be when provoked hard enough and a familiar zing of interest raced down his spine, only fueling his need to push and anger the man. So he added,

"Fuck me like you'd fuck him."

Freak's eyes narrowed, his lip upturned in a sneer. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Well, it should be easy, a fucking walk in the park, if you're that much better than me. And besides, darling." Dom lowered his voice and stepped just close enough to feel Freak's body heat and smell his cologne. Using one finger, he turned Freak's head in Gareth's direction and watched, with self-satisfied glee, as Freak's eyes flicked over, right where Dom had intended. "You could just close your eyes and think it's his cunt you're fucking instead."

He lowered his hand but didn't step away, so he heard the unsteady breath Freak took. Dom waited patiently for him to respond. The more seconds that ticked by, the more certain he felt that he'd won this part of the battle. He looked forward to the next part.

Without looking away from Gareth and Tig, Freak finally spat out, "Fine."

"Great. I'll meet you at mine? Unless you back out like a fucking coward and prove me right," Dom asked with a smug smile. Freak's downright furious expression just made him smile wider.

"You'll regret that."

"Oo, I adore threats."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither one backing out of the bare few inches of space they'd left between themselves, Dom grinning and Freak fuming. Gritting his teeth, Freak was the first to break away, schooling his face into something much friendlier before going to say his goodbyes to his friends.

Dom went back to leaning against the wall. He figured he'd finish his wine first and privately revel in his petty victory. He'd earned it.

There was a chorus of farewells and the front door shut, so Dom swirled the rest of his drink, giving Freak a head start of a few minutes. But he wasn't able to enjoy his small moment of peace.

"Nickie."

Sighing, Dom gave Charlie a tight smile and a short hum of acknowledgement. His friend looked anxious, that iconic moustache of his tilted in a frown, which seemed to be the only way he looked at Dom these days.

"Dominik," Charlie continued, sounding vexed, "come on. What was all that? Did you drive him off?"

"Not this time," Dom grumbled.

"I'm serious." Charlie crossed his arms over his chest.

"So am I, fucking hell, stop riding my ass, it's–" Clamping his mouth shut, Dom exhaled through his nose and let the wall take his weight. Then he looked at the floor and scrubbed a hand down his face. "Sorry, Chuckie," he said, with actual remorse.

Charlie patted Dom's shoulder, letting it rest there as he spoke. "I know. We're okay. But, really, what the hell was that? You were all up in his space, he looked pissed, and then he left."

"I did piss him off a little," Dom admitted, unable to help the satisfied lilt to his voice, "but it's not what it looks like, alright? It's just a… an arrangement."

Dom glanced up at Charlie and was met with the second most disappointed look he'd ever seen on his friend's face. Didn't appreciate the reminder that he was also the reason for the most disappointed look he'd ever seen, too. "Nickie–"

"Don't. Just, shit, don't. I know."

Sighing, Charlie squeezed Dom's shoulder and reined him in for a side hug. Dom bristled but let it happen, refusing to cause some kind of scene. Again.

"I hope you know what you're doing, and that you're talking it out and being safe. Freak's pretty rough."

"Yeah he is." Dom flashed a salacious grin at Charlie, hoping that it would distract him from the fact that he didn't acknowledge the rest of what he'd said. The tired eyebrow levelled his way said that Dom didn't succeed. "Listen, it's fucking fine. It's nothing. Stop wasting your time mother-henning me and go be with the well-adjusted assholes over there," he said sullenly, though without his usual bite.

"It's not a waste of my time to worry about you, man."

And that there was too much, too far. Dom ducked out from Charlie's arm with a thin smile. "Either way, I'm wasting my handsome gentleman caller's time the longer I'm here. So if you'll excuse me, I have to go get my brains fucked out of my head. Say goodbye to Eric and… and Tig, for me."

"Nickie–"

"Good night, Chuckie."

Dom made for the back door, where he figured he could slip away with only Charlie knowing. He opened it carefully, not wanting to make his exit obvious, and when the door creaked lightly he glanced over his shoulder. Which was, of course, a stupid mistake.

Tig was watching him.

Pinned in place like an insect, Dom couldn't look away from Tig's blatant worry and sadness. Shame and guilt and want flooded his chest, threatening to drown him, drag him under and into the dark, so Dom bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. The bloom of metallic-tasting pain was enough to get him through the door without so much as a wave goodbye.

The drive home was a blur. Dom could barely remember any of it beyond pulling into his parking space, when he pried his tense hands off of the steering wheel. Groaning, he flopped against the seat and ground the heels of his palms into his eye sockets until he saw stars.

He shouldn't have gone to that goddamn party.

The thought echoed in his head, taunting him, until there was a tap-tap-tap on his window and Dom jolted. He almost started yelling at the person for being a creep until he realised it was Freak. The parking lot light cast his face in a yellowed half-light, enough to see his slight frown. Dom had had enough of people looking at him like that.

"Come on," he said when he slammed his car door shut. Freak followed silently, a steady presence at Dom's back as he led them into the building. In the elevator, he punched the button for the 6th floor and stared at the display wordlessly.

"We don't have to do this," Freak hedged to break the quiet ride up.

Dom crossed his arms. "You backing out now?"

"Not backing out, giving you an out. Kinda looks like you don't want–"

The elevator came to a stop with a ding, the door rattling open. Dom shoved his foot against the gap where it disappeared.

"What I don't want is to keep being treated like I don't know what I'm fucking doing." He sneered at Freak. The seal on his temper was so close to bursting. "So are you coming in, or going home?"

Freak examined him for a moment. Seemed to weigh his options. The elevator tried to close, but as it met Dom's foot, Freak stepped forward and held it back, looming into Dom's space at the same time.

"You're going to let me know if you want to stop. At any time. And don't snap at me when I check in," he said.

Dom tilted his head, one eyebrow cocked. "Fine. But talk to me again like I don't know basic etiquette and I'll rip your dick off."

"Oo," Freak cooed, both sarcastic and alluring, "I adore threats."

The callback made Dom bristle, but the dark thread of desire woven through his tone made it more fun than annoying. Marginally. That, and the way Freak leered at him, using his extra few inches of height to his advantage, felt like a challenge, and Dom craved that push, that fight.

Trailing his hand up Freak's leg, smirking at the small hitch of breath he heard, and held his gaze as he hooked a finger into a belt loop, pulled, and said, "Good."

Freak shoved Dom out of the elevator, his patience clearly worn thin, and Dom muffled his cackling as he jogged backwards down the hall, unzipping his coat and grabbing his crotch suggestively. He managed to ruck up his black shirt when he ran his hands up his chest, knowing that Freak could see the thatch of hair that disappeared beneath his waistband. Freak watched hungrily, following at a pace slow enough to enjoy the show. But when Dom turned to unlock his door, Freak was on him, crowding him against it.

"Such an attention whore, huh?" Freak growled appreciatively in Dom's ear. Dom shivered, grinning. "Fucking starved for it. Bet I could fuck you right here where your neighbours could see and you'd get off on it."

Laughing low and breathless, Dom fished out his keys with one hand, jingling loudly in the quiet hall, then reached around to grab Freak's ass with the other to yank him closer with a hard squeeze. The words, the idea, made his cunt throb. He could feel how Freak's breathing picked up, with his chest against Dom's back and their faces side-by-side. The slightest turn of his head had Dom's lips brushing Freak's stubbled jaw.

"While I do love putting on a show," Dom murmured, rubbing against Freak's hardening cock with a satisfied sound, "we have other plans."

Freak groaned in complaint when Dom let them inside, leading the way. Whirling around on his heel, Dom started stripping, flinging his coat one way, his shirt the other. He could almost feel the way Freak watched him, a little stunned but intense. "Don't forget to lock the door, darling," he taunted, smirking. With one hand held up, two fingers crooked to beckon Freak along, Dom undid his belt with the other, the leather making a loud snap as he whipped it out of the belt loops. Freak slammed the door shut, throwing the lock, still staring as he shoved his jacket off.

"You just gonna fucking gawk or–oh shit!" Freak charged, scooping Dom up as he squawked in surprise, and started towards the bedroom. "Jesus–fuck–put me down!" He scrambled for purchase, forced to wrap his hands around Freak's neck and trust that he'd hold Dom up. Though the way his biceps flexed as he hoisted Dom a bit higher left zero room for doubt.

Freak's confident, cocky stare fed the heat pooling in Dom's belly. His self-assuredness was so frustratingly hot. And shit, it was fun to fuck around with someone again that matched his energy, that kept up with him. That bit back.

Dom tangled his fingers into Freak's dark, curly hair and tugged, and though he hissed Freak also laughed and dug his blunt nails into Dom's jean-clad thighs in retaliation. But then they passed the doorway into Dom's room. And Freak grinned. It clicked just a split-second before–

"No–!"

With an effortless shove, Freak flung Dom onto the unmade bed. He landed in an undignified heap amongst the pillows and blankets with a muffled yelp. Getting up on his elbows, Dom blew his hair out of his face and glared.

"You told me to put you down," Freak said, shrugging.

"You… clichéd asshole," Dom fumed, his jaw clenched to keep from laughing or smiling. He refused to show that he'd actually enjoyed being hauled around so fucking easily.

He watched as Freak shrugged again, unbothered and amused, before pulling his shirt off and propping a leg up on the bed frame to start untying his boots. Dom kept watching as he unlaced his own boots. Admired his thick thighs, the swell of his belly over his jeans, the dark hair that covered his forearms and torso. He wanted to get his hands on every inch of skin and leave bruises that would last for days.

Seeing Dom start to open his fly, Freak grabbed him by the ankles and yanked him across the bed, standing between his outstretched legs before pulling Dom’s jeans off so roughly he heard a seam snap, taking his boxer briefs with them, leaving him naked and spread open. Dom gasped, looked up. His gut swooped at the way Freak studied him, almost cold, calculated, the fun from earlier hidden behind whatever was going on in his head. Then, slowly, Freak sank to his knees.

Shock coursed through Dom’s nerves. They hadn’t done this before. They had an agreement to not use their mouths; no lips, tongue, teeth. Only hands, fingers, Freak’s cock or a toy or two. So Dom asked hesitantly, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“You wanted me to fuck you like I fuck Gareth,” he responded flatly. That name sent a sick spike of jealousy through Dom’s heart. “So I’m giving you what you wanted. Unless–”

“Fuck you, I’m not backing out,” Dom spat. Anger seethed alongside his jealousy, but not at Freak, not really. At himself. He’d forgotten, so fast, that that was why they were even here tonight. He fucking forgot. Some unnamed feeling sank like a stone in his chest, so he buried it. Swiftly.

Dom hooked a leg over Freak’s shoulder and dug a demanding heel into his back, catching the barest wince on his face before he came closer to Dom’s bare, glistening cunt. The thrill at the sight of Freak on his knees between his legs warred with the bitterness of knowing why he was there. Dom grit his teeth. “Get to it.”

Freak gave him one last significant look before closing his eyes with a short huff. His broad hand grabbed the leg that wasn’t over his shoulder and held it in place so he could bite. Dom let out a surprised sound, the new feeling of Freak’s teeth in his skin going straight to his dick, and throbbing when he started to suck.

Freak sucked two more hickeys into Dom’s thigh on his way up, each one harder than the last, leaving Dom panting, his leg twitching in Freak’s strong grasp. Dom didn’t realise his own eyes were closed until he felt Freak’s hot, wet tongue lap at the seam of his cunt, licking over him and then in with a throaty groan. Moaning in surprise, Dom let his head fall back.

He wanted to swear, to run his mouth like he usually did, but something held him back. He didn’t want to ruin whatever fantasy might be playing in Freak’s head and change the scene, remind him of who he was actually eating out and be treated differently. Even if this was only because Freak was picturing Gareth, he wanted to know. Wanted that awful, twisting stab in his chest, knowing how that asshole got pampered.

Biting his lip to keep silent, Dom started rocking into Freak’s face when he felt him latch onto his dick. But Freak laid his arm across his hips, pinning him easily as he shoved Dom’s leg wider, sucking harder and licking at the tip of his dick in a way that had Dom trembling and choking back every sound. Freak was fucking eager, greedy.

All he could do was lie there and feel. Dom’s hands fisted in the blankets as his pleasure built and built, gasping and breathless when he wasn’t desperately trying to be quiet. Freak’s laser-like focus on his cock made it really goddamn hard.

Distracted, Dom didn’t notice at first that Freak’s hand, the one holding him down, started moving. He jolted when Freak’s nails pressed into the sensitive skin at the bend of his hip, dragging up in harsh red lines. They’d stand out on his pale skin for hours.

When Freak’s fingertips reached Dom’s chest, he paused. Dom thought it was because his hips jerked up helplessly against Freak’s mouth. Then Freak’s fingers trailed over one of his scars, halting and almost gentle, before thumbing at Dom’s pierced nipple. Confused, Dom opened his eyes and looked down at Freak to find he was already looking back.

“What?” Dom asked. Freak pulled away, his chin shining with slick in the low light, and Dom strangled the sound of protest that tried to escape him as his cunt throbbed at the sight.

“You’re not Gareth–”

“You think I don’t fucking know that–?” Dom snarled, but Freak slapped his thigh hard enough to make Dom jerk, his breath catching in his throat at the sting.

“Shut the fuck up for one second, christ!” Wiping his face on his arm, Freak surged up from his knees to cage Dom in against the bed. His jeans were rough against Dom’s thighs when he squeezed his legs around Freak out of instinct, habit, need. “You’re not Gareth, and I don’t want you to be! Let go of the stupid game and let me fuck you. Just you, Dom.”

Dom blinked up at him, stunned. Emotions whirled messily in his chest, bursting into sparks as they collided with his ribs. His eyes darted over the other man’s face, finding frustration–a familiar sight–but also hunger, sheer want, and… earnestness. It only worsened the chaos in his ribcage. Part of him wanted to end it all right here, send Freak home, delete and block his number and snuff out the sparks, swift and sure and cynical. But then Freak’s face started to close off the longer Dom took to respond and something dug its claws into his bones and begged.

“Do it, then,” he rasped, his heart thundering as he deliberately held Freak’s gaze. “Screw the game.”

“Thank fuck.” Freak burrowed into Dom’s neck, immediately biting at his tattooed skin. He couldn’t make himself tell Freak off for it. The movement brought their hips together, both of them gasping when Freak’s hard cock, still trapped in his jeans, pressed against the wet mess he’d left between Dom’s legs. They rutted into each other, Dom thriving off the rough drag of fabric against his swollen cock and the sharp bite of Freak’s teeth, digging a trembling hand into his curls to hold him against his neck.

Fuck the game, fuck their agreement. Dom wanted this.

Wanted Freak.

When a particularly hard bite made Dom choke back a moan, Freak growled into his neck, “Stop. Stop fucking hiding, wanna hear you.” He laved his tongue over the red, painful spots he’d made and Dom shuddered.

“Then fucking do something worth moaning about.”

Chuckling darkly, Freak yanked Dom’s head back by his hair, using the leverage to thrust against him, and bit down at the soft spot under the hinge of Dom’s jaw, sucking a hickey there so hard that Dom cried out, his cunt clenching around nothing. God, fuck, he needed Freak’s cock fucking immediately.

Reaching down, he scrabbled at Freak’s belt, squeezing his length for good measure and preening at the sounds that earned. It took some fussing and swearing, and Freak helped not at all as he kept nipping his way across Dom’s neck, but Dom finally managed to pull those goddamn jeans down and get Freak’s thick cock out. He smirked when he felt the eager twitch in his hand as he pumped it, smearing precome along it.

“So wet for me, darling,” Dom purred into Freak’s ear. Guiding him to his cunt, he hissed when Freak took the hint and started thrusting again, sliding through Dom’s slick folds and rubbing against his dick. “For me.”

“You’re no better,” Freak laughed, “listen to this.” He straightened up, grabbed Dom’s hips, and thrust faster, the wet sounds getting wetter each time the head of Freak’s cock ground against Dom’s.

Then he grinned, and before Dom realised it he was being pulled closer to the edge of the bed, and then up, into his lap, where Freak bent him nearly in half so he could leer down into Dom’s face as he spoke. “You were soaked before I even got my mouth on your cock.” He angled himself so his dick sat tantalisingly at Dom’s entrance, just barely pushing in, his grin growing wider when he felt his cunt twitch and flutter.

“For me,” Freak echoed, so self-satisfied, and Dom glared even as he desperately wanted to squirm, writhe, do anything to finally be fucked like he wanted.

“You smug fucking–oh, bastard, fuck!” Dom shouted as Freak bullied his way inside with a rough shove. His mouth fell open around a surprised, needy sound, turning into a hiss as his cunt had to stretch around the welcome intrusion. Freak sighed, his head falling back in relief. He might’ve been a bastard, Dom thought, but fuck if he wasn’t a hot one. As he wrapped his legs around Freak’s waist, Dom made plans to mark up his neck as revenge for mauling his own. And because he could, now.

Dom rolled his hips into each hard thrust, the push and drag inside him setting his already wound-up nerves alight. Their eyes met, and even as they both grinned, slap-happy and running on endorphins, Dom realised this was the first time they’d fucked like this, face to face, and he didn’t know what to do with the feelings building in his gut alongside his arousal. So, he did what he always does.

Digging his nails into Freak’s neck, Dom said with a teasing smirk, “This how you wanted to do it? Missionary, like we’re fucking vanilla?”

Freak rolled his eyes. “Don’t think you’re supposed to bend this far in missionary,” he shot back, forcing Dom to bend at the waist just a little more, his cock hitting deeper, at just the right angle to hit Dom’s g-spot and punch a high, reedy groan out of him. “Besides, wanna see your face for once when I make you come.”

“And you think—oh, fuck—you think this is all it’ll take?” He pressed his sharp nails further into Freak’s skin, making him wince. “Like I can’t go out and fuck someone else like this whenever I want? I fucking could—”

Faster than Dom could blink, Freak’s palm slapped Dom’s right cheek with a loud crack. Shock hit him before the sting, the burn, and Dom cut himself off with a fucking whimper, a full-body shudder rocking through him as he suddenly had to keep himself from coming right there and then. Holy shit. Freak grabbed his chin, forcing Dom to look up, wide-eyed and speechless.

“You’re mine.”

The dark, possessive growl behind Freak’s words made Dom clench around his cock. It shook him, down to his core. To be claimed like that, the evidence still stinging hotly on his red cheek, was almost more surprising, hotter, than being slapped.

Freak’s hand released his chin, instead resting on the centre of Dom’s chest, and he wondered if the other man could feel his heart racing, aching, under his palm; if he’d know exactly why it did. “Alright?” Freak asked, and Dom nodded, feeling a little dumb, a lot reckless.

“Again,” he said breathlessly.

He held Freak’s serious gaze until he seemed to find what he needed. Heat flared in Freak’s blue eyes, and Dom felt him throb, still buried to the hilt in his cunt. Freak lifted his hand and struck Dom again, on the same cheek, with the same force, and a moan ripped out of his throat as his eyelids fluttered closed and the coil in his belly went taught, threatening to snap.

“Fu-fuck, Freak, again, say it again, shit, please!” Dom pleaded. Freak switched hands, hitching Dom’s hips closer, before he gave Dom what he begged for.

The slap came down on Dom’s left cheek with so much force he cried out, his head whipping to the side. Freak ducked down immediately and licked a long, wet stripe along the clearly defined handprint he’d left, his fingers tangling in Dom’s hair as he said, with a low, gravelly snarl,

“Mine.”

And Dom came. Trembling, whining loud and guttural as he arched off the bed, fucking himself on Freak’s cock on drunken instinct as lightning arced through his body, knife-sharp and burning and fucking delicious. Freak thrust into him, helping Dom chase the high until he went limp on the bed, panting and still shaking. When Freak started to pull away, though, Dom’s legs kept him trapped, held him close.

“I swear to god if you pull out now I’m going to kill you,” he said breathlessly. “Keep fucking going.”

Laughing, Freak shook his head fondly and said, “Jesus christ you’re demanding.” Stubbornly, he shifted them both so that Dom wasn’t bent into a half-moon any more, and braced himself over Dom like proper fucking missionary. But, thankfully, he listened too, resuming his steady pace with a satisfied groan.

The overstimulation sent sparks skittering along Dom’s nerves and he knew, if Freak kept this up and he got his fingers around his cock, he could come again. So he reached between them and started rubbing himself in time with Freak’s thrusts, which grew faster, harder, when he noticed what Dom was doing. He rode the edge of pain and pleasure, gasping when Freak grabbed his waist and held him still, fucking into him rougher, using him.

Dom watched him as they raced towards their end, took in the sweat on Freak’s brow and the way his lips were bitten red, and that stupid, greedy recklessness swelled in him again. Unthinking, Dom reached up, guiding their faces close so he could kiss him.

His lips were soft. That was devastating, somehow. Life altering. Freak’s hips stuttered and his hands clenched where they grabbed his sides, but Dom felt him melt into the kiss before he licked into Dom’s mouth with a hungry, urgent sound. When their tongues slid together, Dom could taste the remaining salt and tang of his own slick in Freak’s mouth. It quickly turned messy and uncoordinated as Freak’s pace faltered and Dom quickly brought himself to the edge again.

“Dom, shit, I’m gonna—”

“Come on, darling,” Dom urged thoughtlessly, “fill me up, I’m yours, fuck, please.”

Freak pressed another sloppy kiss against Dom’s lips, which he met eagerly, his hands on his cheeks holding him there almost gently, and in just a few deep pumps of his hips Freak came, adding to the wet, frantic sounds of skin on skin. The feeling propelled Dom into his second climax with a choked out whimper.

Letting his forehead rest against Dom’s, Freak slowed, and then stopped, both men gasping for breath. Aftershocks sent tremors through Dom’s muscles, the twitching making Freak hiss and then chuckle lightly. Dom groaned, low and somewhat pained, when Freak pulled out so he flopped onto the bed beside him, the dip in the mattress bringing Dom into his flank, their legs dangling uselessly over the side.

Dom had a whole minute to soak in the bliss. The ache in his cunt, his thigh, and along his face and neck were so fucking good that the only thing keeping him from curling in on himself in satisfied delight was how loose-limbed he was. Instead, he hummed, a short, pleased sound. Then it hit him.

They’d kissed.

No. Dom had kissed Freak. He’d gotten so carried away by his own hormones and his stupid fucking feelings, whatever the fuck they were, that he’d seen the tatters of their agreement, his one rule, to keep their mouths to themselves, and skipped straight to kissing Freak. And then… I’m yours, he’d said. Oh fuck. Panic and regret flooded him, his heart racing with anxiety. The thing with the claws in his ribs shook, expecting to drown. Freak must’ve felt him tense, because he shifted slightly to look at Dom with a concern he desperately did not want to see right now.

“Are you—?”

Dom cut him off by quickly sitting up. “I’ll get us some water,” he said tonelessly. Standing, Dom snatched the robe hanging off his computer chair and slipped into it before walking on unsteady legs to the kitchen, ignoring the mess leaking out between them.

The only light he bothered to turn on was the oven hood light. Anything brighter and Dom illogically thought he’d be forced into a self-interrogation he couldn’t currently bear. Numbly, he pulled out two mismatched glasses and began to fill them.

At the sink, he caught his own faint reflection in the darkened window. His eyeliner was a dark, messy smudge around his eyes now, and even in the darkness he could see how red his cheeks were. He touched his left cheek and flinched at the sting.

He hadn’t noticed the glass was spilling over until a hand reached out and shut off the faucet. “Dom?” Freak asked softly, standing close enough that Dom felt caught in his gravitational pull. Dom’s howling anxiety kept him from giving in.

Freak seemed to mull over his words first, and when he finally spoke it was in that same soft tone that made Dom want to simultaneously lash out and fucking run. But his feet stayed glued in place as Freak said, “I know you’re not one for a lot of aftercare, Dom, but… christ, that was intense and even if you don’t need it I, uh. I think I do. I know I’m gonna drop if you send me home right now, or if you don’t… don’t say anything.”

God, he wanted anything but aftercare right now. Dom wanted to snap at Freak, tell him to fuck off and take care of himself; to curl up and tear out his own hair and rage and be miserable and—

Dom wanted the drop, could feel it, was probably in the midst of it right then, and something his brand-spanking-new therapist had told him suddenly clicked. He was trying to punish himself. For kissing someone, kissing Freak.

Letting out a shaky breath, Dom finally let himself lean into Freak’s side even as a part of him still wanted to rip and tear. “Okay,” he said.

“Thank you,” Freak replied and wrapped his arm around Dom’s shoulders.

“What do you need?” he asked wearily.

“To clean us up, and lie down with you. Make sure your face is alright. You?”

“That… sounds nice,” he admitted. “Zuko might have to join us.”

As if summoned, Zuko rose from his large bed in the living room and trotted over, his tail wagging so fast it smacked into the cabinets in a way that made both men wince in sympathy. Wrapping his robe tighter to his body, Dom leaned down and babbled baby talk at his dog while he scratched Zuko’s head. When he glanced over at Freak, he caught the tail end of an expression so soft that his panic threatened to return.

“We should get cleaned up and put clothes on,” Freak said. “I don’t think I want to lie in bed naked with your dog.”

Dom snorted. “Good idea.”

They cleaned up in the bathroom, where Freak handled Dom so gently he had to blink back tears, overwhelmed by the care he was being treated with on top of the rollercoaster of the entire day. He let Freak examine his face and neck with careful hands, admitting to being very tender but fine. The wet cloth Freak used soothed Dom’s warm, raw skin. Dom used another to wipe away the sweat that still decorated Freak’s skin and the dried slick on his chin. Seeing Freak be so pliant for him, so trusting, his eyes closed as Dom cleaned him off with a thorough touch, was so new that Dom didn’t know what to do with it, couldn’t parse the emotions that welled up along with everything else.

When they’d dressed—Dom in pyjama pants, Freak in a flashy pair of harem pants from an old costume that were at least comfortable—they crawled under the blankets of Dom’s bed. Zuko, his patience having clearly worn out, ran and jumped onto the bed before squeezing himself between the wall and the nearest body, which happened to be Freak. His pained oof when Zuko stepped on him accidentally made Dom cackle tiredly. Then they were all settled, snug on the bed. How fucking strange.

Dom thought they’d just lie side by side, but instead Freak pulled him in, wrapped him up in a loose hug that made his heart skip a beat. They hadn’t done this, either. Cuddling. But it felt… nice. Laying his arm on Freak’s chest, he scratched through the hair there gently and enjoyed the novelty of just listening to him breathe.

“You’re okay, right?” Freak asked quietly.

He thought for a moment. It was still fucking weird, letting this happen, having Freak in his bed for longer than only needing to catch their breath. There was still too much going on in the cage of his chest; the weight of the kiss was still heavy on his mind. But it was easier to deal with, when Freak’s arms were there to hold him together.

“Yeah.” Dom wiggled in closer and wound his legs around Freak’s, his forehead resting in the crook of Freak’s neck. “I’m okay.”

—

Two days afterward, Dom found himself in front of his bathroom mirror for the third time that day. The marks Freak had left were still there. The snake skull on his neck, once monochrome, was blooming into deep purples haloed in yellow, and every time he turned his head the hickeys and bites ached dully. Even his cheek was still sore. It didn’t help that Dom was a little obsessed with how pink it still was, touching the spot more than he should to keep it tender. To keep the reminder of what happened.

It was useful, too. Now that the bruises were in their prime, he took a selfie, skillfully cropped so only his pinked cheek and the dark marks on his pale, tattooed neck showed between the splay of his spindly fingers. He posted it to his work Twitter and smirked at the instant flurry of notifications, but locked his phone so he could go back to admiring the damage.

He pulled himself out of it when a trio of messages made his phone buzz loudly on the counter. Laughing, he answered the first.

✨delicate boy✨: YEEEEEAAAAAAAH BOOOOOOYYYY 🥵🎉🍆🍆🥵💃

dom: 😎😎😎

The second, he shook his head fondly while he responded.

chuckie cheese: are you ok??? who MAULED you????

dom: a friend. i’m great thnx 😏

The third had Dom biting his lip against a smile as heat pooled low in his belly. Turning, he leaned against the counter and reread the text a few times before he finally responded.

that bassist: Could give you a necklace to match

dom: come do your worst.

dividers by cafekitsune

#sorry for tagging so many people i feel annoying but i wanted to make sure everyone got credit!!#strangerthingsocweek #freak #goth babygirl dom #freakdom #stranger things #fanfic #ocs aweigh #niko's notes

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