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choism · 9 months

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Jester's Game | b.tc

Captain Buggy x Pirate!afab!Reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff (If you squint)

Summary: Trying to overtake Captain Buggy's ship leaves you asking questions, and surprisingly, getting answers

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: top!buggy, afab!reader, unprotected sex (pls dont), cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, squirting, rough sex, gentle sex (yeah wild), inappropriate use of detached limbs, spit as lube (also a no no), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

A/N: WOOHOO ITS MY FIRST NON KPOP FIC!! I knew I would write for other stuff eventually but I definitely did not expect it to be a recent hyperfixation. Buggy just has me bricked up okay! Anyway I hope y'all enjoy, don't forget to let me know what you thought of the fic in the tags !

It’s a rather unfortunate series of events, really. Sure, you could’ve told your navigator to sail away from the ship with the giant clown crossbones flag. Yeah, it might’ve helped if you had told your crew that they were about to fight some of the toughest pirates in the East Blue. But where’s the fun in that? As their captain, it’s your job to seek the adventure, and well, this was an adventure all right.

It started with you telling your men to approach, cannons firing, your crew hopping their ship, the infamous ship commandeered by none other Buggy The Clown. Yes, the ship your measly crew has decided to board. Listen, it was strategic! Buggy had somehow gotten the map to the grand line back, and your ship just so happened to be within the vicinity of his, so why not seek the opportunity to take it? Well that was your first mistake.

Now, you find yourself here, hands bound behind your back and kneeling with your crew in front of Buggy’s stupid, dumb throne in his stupid, dumb circus tent cabin.

“You all truly are fools for thinking you could take on my band of freaks,” Buggy lazily sprawls over his throne, seemingly unimpressed by your, in his words, ‘lackluster crew’.

“It’s funny actually, how pathetic it was, I mean even Mohji got in a few punches! Ha! Truly a fine show.” The man you assume being the Mohji that Buggy had just poked fun at, slumps his shoulders sadly at his jab. “Now, time to get to the good stuff…” Buggy trails off, standing up and taking a few strides in your direction, his dirty boots stopping directly in front of you. He detaches his hand and uses it to lift your head, pointing your chin up to look him in the eye.

Looking up, you spit and it lands on his cheek, he simply swipes it off with his attached, gloved hand. “So what if you defeated us, it doesn’t make you any better of a pirate, and doesn’t get you any closer to the One Piece.” You tilt your head and smirk. He may have overcome your crew, but he will never overcome your overwhelming ego and pride. It matches his just as equally.

“Ah, that's where you’re wrong, princess,” His grin is just as wide as yours, and briefly you’re confused, what could he mean? “Given your set of thieving skills, probably some of the best in the East Blue, I’ve heard, you’re gonna join my band of freaks, and I’m not giving you a choice sweetheart,” Buggy removes his hand from your chin, and it floats to his arm, re-attaching itself.

“Boys, throw their crew overboard, we have no use for them.” He rolls his eyes and sits back on his throne, “Oh! And go show them to their new quarters, make them feel at home.” Buggy laughs a deep boisterous laugh, one that genuinely sends shivers down your spine.

The pirates lead you into, what is actually, quite a nice room in the lower deck of the cabin, lit by a few candles, and a cot in the corner. Surprisingly, they cut you out of your ropes, and shut the door without locking it. What’s their deal? Don’t they know you can escape at any time if you wanted? Sneak out and steal one of their emergency boats, and sail to the nearest Island? Granted, you aren’t sure where the nearest Island is, you’re a thief, not a navigator.

Instead of worrying about escaping, you roam the small room, admiring your surroundings. The whole ship is clown themed, front he flags to the cabin to everything, but this room is different. Not a single sign of jester-like decorations anywhere. In fact, it’s as if this cabin was decorated specifically for you. Before you can think more of it, the door opens suddenly.

Buggy enters, and closes the door behind him. When he enters you’re sitting on the cot, legs crossed and unamused.

“Not thinking about escaping? Not that you could anyway, we are miles away from the nearest island, and realistically it would take you days to get there on one of our measly boats.” He rolls his eyes, as if annoyed by how small and fragile the boats are, before sitting backwards on the chair at the short desk next to the cot.

“So what do you even need a thief for? Why am I here?” You blurt, already growing impatient from the lack of information being given to you.

“I need you for many reasons, being a thief is only one of them, sweetheart.” Buggy grins and removes his hat, setting it on the desk. “You already have connections at the grand line, and while I know you need my map to get there, I know that you know the people I need to talk to, to gain safe entry without slaughtering half the fucking pirates there.” He leans back and relaxes a bit, observing your facial features.

“And why do you think any of the people I know would want to help you? You’re just some lowly pirate.” You spit at him, angered by his casualness. In what world would you even willingly help him? Who does he think he is?

“Ha…Me? A lowly pirate? This coming from the literal captain of a crew is hilarious! Tell me another joke, please.” He grins knowingly, he knows how to get a rise out of you for sure. You look over his facial expression, smugness overtakes his face and it makes your stomach twist, not with disgust though for some odd reason, with another feeling you don’t quite recognize.

This whole situation has you feeling all kinds of anxious. How did you just happen to raid the ship of a pirate who just happened to need you for this specific thing, and why is his presence making you feel so…weird? Something isn’t right here, and it can’t be because of your connections to the grand line. No, he’s hiding something.

“What are you hiding, clown? There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

His face drops, and he gets suddenly very serious, “Listen here, princess,” Buggy gets up from the chair and gets close to you, leaning down, your noses almost touching. “You’re gonna get me to the grand line, I don’t care if I have to torture it out of you, got it? No more questions tonight.” He gets up and suddenly grins very brightly, as if nothing ever happened. “Night night!” Buggy walks out and slams the door, then you hear a locking sound.

Fuck, he locked you in your room. You should’ve expected this, honestly. The way he reacted to your question was so strange. You knew there was something fishy, but you didn’t think whatever it was could’ve prompted that kind of reaction out of him.

***

The next day you wake up to yelling outside of your cramped room. Yawning, you get up and put your ear to the door,

“I’m sorry Captain Buggy! I didn’t know that was their ship I swear I promise!”

You hear what sounds like a kick to the jaw and a yelp,

“Didn’t know? Didn’t know?! You couldn’t tell by the giant crossbones flag that very obviously bares their symbol? I’m tired of you, someone go throw him off the deck.”

You hear screams and pleads of “No please!” and “I didn’t know I’m sorry captain!” before hearing water splash, then silence, then- oh shit footsteps coming towards your room. You scramble back to your cot and lay down, pretending to sleep. You hear a couple of knocks before hearing a feint “What the fuck am I doing, I go where I want!” Before Buggy barges into the room after unlocking it.

“Get up, I know you heard everything.” He spits gruffly, sitting back in the chair again the same way as yesterday. You sit up abruptly. Last night you couldn’t shake this feeling, of what you felt when Buggy had gotten so serious, and it’s just gotten worse being in his presence. Your abdomen feels hot, your ears feel hot, everything feels hot. It’s like butterflies in your stomach if the butterflies were armed with knives.

“Yes, I did hear, what do you mean by my symbol? I thought bumping into you was a coincidence?” Buggy smiles faintly, and chuckles.

“Yes, it was, I wasn’t informed of what ship we attacked, just that my men captured you all, oh but when I saw you…I knew.” Buggy stands up and motions for you to do the same, getting so close to you, your chests almost touch. He brings his hand to your arm, caressing down the length before gripping your wrist harshly, causing you to wince. “Do you….” he trails off, “Do you really not remember me?” He brings his eyes from your arm to your face, making direct eye contact.

You struggle to find words, what does he mean, remember? Yeah, he gives you a strange feeling everytime you're near him, but you’ve never met this man in your entire life. You think. Honestly you can’t remember anything before the age of seventeen.

“I– no, no I don’t…”

His smile fades, and he lets go of you, “I thought you would remember once you saw me, we were on Gold Roger’s crew together years ago, but you went missing after a particularly tough battle.” He pauses, thinking carefully about what to say next, “You– We– We were close, and I was devastated, I thought you were dead.” He’s being surprisingly vulnerable right now, and it’s kind of scaring you.

“I don’t really remember anything before I turned seventeen, All I know is one day I woke up on an island, a group of pirates took me in, I left, and I’ve been on my own since. The only reason I am where I am today is because I wanted to find who I was, and I figured I could find that out at the grand line.” You feel overwhelmingly sad. Why are you sad? You don’t even know him.

There’s a long silence between the two of you, it’s uncomfortable, tight, and makes you want to leave, until he says, “Let me show you.” He says abruptly, and you think you see a blush across his face.

“Sorry, I mean, please,” Buggy steps into your space again, this time his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes, back to your lips. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you, I’m sorry you had to go through that, I missed you so much y/n” That was the first time he’s said your name this entire time, but it’s not one you recognize.

“Is that my name?” Your lip quivers, he’s so close now, your lips are inches apart.

“Yes it is, y/n, sweetheart, princess, I’ll call you whatever you want, just let me show you.” The thick air has disappeared and is now replaced with tension. Something deeper, heavier, fills the room. But it’s not a bad thing.

“Let me show you who you were to me.”

You let his face drop to yours, and your lips finally connect.

The kiss is slow, languid. It’s like his lips were meant to connect with yours. Buggy wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you in closer, and kissing you deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you let him kiss you as deep as he wants. The pace quickens and he slots his leg in between yours, rubbing against your pants and providing much needed friction.

You moan into his touch and he walks the both of you backwards until the back of your knees reach the bed. He lowers you onto it and hovers above you, kissing you again before departing. “Is this okay?” Buggy asks, brushes his hands underneath the bottom of your shirt, slowly lifting it.

“Only if you return the favor.” He chuckles and lowers his head to your neck, sucking and biting gently while riding up your shirt until your chest is exposed. You sit up briefly to take off your shirt and as promised, he does the same. He isn’t overly ripped like most pirates are, but he’s still well toned. His muscles flex as he shifts lower, kissing down your chest, down your stomach and stopping just above the navel.

“When I saw you were the one my men captured, it took my breath away,” He lifts your hips so he can remove your pants and undergarments, “I was scared, anxious, I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended I knew you for your skills, not for your past.” After removing everything, he pushes back, kissing your thighs before sitting up, taking his gloves off with his teeth and throwing them to the side. Man that was hot.

Buggy detaches one of his hands and lets it roam up your torso, reaches your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze. Before leading his fingers over your mouth, asking for entry. You grant it and his index and middle finger slip into your mouth, swirling your saliva around and coating them generously. “When you suspected I knew more, I didn’t know what to do. When you boarded I just knew you by name, not face, there was no way I could’ve expected this.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and moves it down to your center, rubbing through your folds gently and inserting two fingers, scissoring you open and prepping you for what's to come. Buggy uses his still detached hand to remove his own trousers, his cock springing free from its confines. He strokes it slowly, clearly getting off to his detached hand fingering you open.

“Buggy…” You moan, you can’t even reply or form a sentence, the pleasure too good.

“Shhh just relax sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.” He brings his hand away from your now dripping cunt, reattaching it and leaning down. You feel his breathe over your core, he kisses your clit before taking it in his mouth, lapping up your taste and fucking you onto his tongue. You can feel your orgasm approaching quickly as he flits between sucking on your clit and tonguing inside of you, but he pulls away.

“Fuck! Why’d you–”

You’re interrupted by his cock entering you and your legs being lifted by his hands so he can enter as deep as possible. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. His cock fits so nice and feels so good and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Fuck you’re so tight and wet for me, so fucking good huh? Letting me fuck you like this.” His pupils are so blown out, he watches his own cock pull out and start to thrust into you, it just fuels your arousal further. Buggy starts out slow, just getting you used to his size before he picks up the pace, fucking into you even deeper and faster.

“Shit, gonna cum Buggy please.” He moves your legs to prop onto his shoulders and he grabs onto your waist, pushing down and holding you in place as he fucks into you roughly.

“Gonna cum for me? Go ahead sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He moves his hand over your abdomen and presses down, the pressure making you feel dizzy. You feel white hot, the band finally snapping as you come. “Fuck, gonna cum soon too, gonna fill you up so good.”

Buggy relentlessly fucks into your cunt, overstimulating you and causing a pressure to build that’s unfamiliar. “Wait Buggy I, fuck I feel weird it feels good.” Soon, with a loud cry you feel a wetness rush between your legs, causing you to let out a loud string of moans and curses.

“Squirting for me already? God you’re full of surprises. Shit, I’m coming.” A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his hot cum fill you up, as promised. It feels so good. He slows down and pulls out, his load leaking out of you and onto the sheets below. “So good for me.” He whispers, leaning down and kissing you gently. He cleans the both of you up quickly and gets dressed, ready to go back to his quarters for the night.

“Wait Buggy, before you go…” You trail off and he turns around, listening intently. “If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about my- about our, past? I need to know where I came from, what happened.” Buggy smiles gently, walking up and kissing you on the forehead.

“Of course princess, later”

#buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy the clown smut #buggy the clown x reader #opla smut #opla x reader #op smut #op x reader #one piece smut #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #buggy #buggy the clown

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plutolovesyou · 1 month

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how soon is now? | part two

READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸

previous chapter. series masterlist.

♡: hallway crush!ellie x uni student!reader

☆: the long-awaited second part of this godforsaken fic (lawd she’s given me trouble). appreciate y'all's patience as always, i'm a chronic procrastinator and perfectionist but what can i do. after this, i'm gonna take a break from this series. not saying i'll never write more, but wanna work on some other stuff for a while. thank you for reading! pretty please don’t hate me or show up at my house waving torches and pitchforks for this ending ok luv u gays in my phone. + a big thank you to @total-dxmure for helping me w/ some ideas for the last little bit!

♧:5.7k word count (lawd)

◇: sfw! miscommunication (sawry). fluffy moments, angst lowkey…both of yall cry at one point or another, reader has anxiety in the last chunk. modern au but joel isn’t alive in this, and they discuss it. maybe some rushed points here and there, i’m not really the proudest of this but needed to finish it anyway. potentially horrendous pacing but ok i think that’s all? idfk i may give y’all a little epilogue eventually, but don't dwell on it for the time being!

4 months later

Your friendship with Ellie was evolving wonderfully. You two were studying together frequently, and both your grades in the ghastly astrophysics class increased exponentially. Although that wasn't the only thing that was increasing at a rate too fast to fathom. Your crush on her. It was ripping you apart like wildfire, Ellie was proving herself to be such a wonderful person inside and out, and you were slowly but surely nearing your limit of how much it could build before you burst. A movie spin off of the Savage Starlight series had come to streaming, and Ellie had invited you to her place for a movie night so you two could watch it and discuss if it was a faithful entry in your beloved series or not.

Dressed in some comfortable pjs and armed with snacks of all kinds, your favorites as well as hers, the time had come and you were at her door. You straighten your posture and put your hair back in place, must look presentable, then knock, knock, knock.

You could hear some faint shuffling behind the door, then a few thudding steps until she opened it for you. She was dressed in an old, worn Nirvana tee, and red checkered pajama pants, damn she looked good, even when she was dressed with less effort than usual.

Ellie looked so pleased to see you, leaning on the doorframe. Why did she have to look so good all the time? “Hi! I’m so glad you came, ooh this is gonna be so fun.” She invited you in and took the snacks from your arms and placed them inside her room. “Oh yeah, I also put up some decor too so we can get into the Savage Starlight spirit.” Her eyes were wide and twinkling and when she stepped aside to let you see, she really had made her room so welcoming and comfortable.

The lights were all off save for LEDs around the room’s perimeter set to a dreamy violet hue, sparkly fairy lights draped around the frame of her bed which was set up so cozily. Her laptop propped up on a pillow, the sheets arranged in a nest-like formation with two spaces for each of you. She even had a few dinosaur stuffed animals placed in a row so they could watch too.

You were so flattered she'd do that and make the atmosphere so nice for the two of you, you could just tackle her in a hug and never let go.

The thing is you were scared she'd perceive that as weird and you didn't feel like dying of embarrassment, not today at the very least. Save that for another day, maybe. Oh, how you wanted to squeeze her so bad. Your imagination had to do for now.

She was standing there so proud of how she arranged her room into a mini theater, and you beamed at her, silently thanking her for making it so dim so she couldn't see your flustered expression in full.

“Ellie this is amazing!!” “You like it?!? These stupid lights kept on falling off but since this is an important occasion for us both I didn't give up. All for our love, Daniela.” She manipulated her voice and waved in the air with two fists, closed her eyes and put her hand over her heart, just being as dorky as ever.

Oh gosh, hopefully it wasn't going to be awkward. Sure, the two of you had grown to be great friends, but were you that close to be just, relaxing in her bed together? As long as your imagination didn't run too wild and you didn't overthink anything, it was going to be a fun time. Just two pals watching their favorite series, nothing more, nothing less.

She threw herself in the mess of comforters with a grunt, and saw you were hesitating. She patted the empty space next to her so you'd join her and the movie night could begin. “C’mere, don't be shy.” Well, no shit you were going to be shy. Suck it up.

You crawled in next to her, unable to look her in the eyes, while she got everything ready and rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Man, if they do our girl dirty, we’re gonna have to give someone a knuckle sandwich, you with me?” Her jokes and easy going vibes always made her so fun to be around, but unfortunately for you, you fell harder for her every time. “Yeah, Ellie. A knuckle sandwich for all of them.” You retorted with a chuckle. Once both of you were settled, she pressed play and so it began.

As the movie played, the two of you laughed and debated every plot twist, cursing the directors for not portraying your queen Daniela how she deserves, and snacked on candy until your stomachs hurt. It was going so well, the friendly hang out both of you needed after so many responsibilities in life. An escape. Occasionally sneaking peeks Ellie’s way, she was just so marvelously pretty. The shadows dancing on her features, illuminating her side profile perfectly, her long eyelashes and button nose, who wouldn't get lost in admiring her?

Of course you could never fully relax around her, or forget the crush no matter how hard you tried to push it down and just be friends. Every time she shifted next to you in the bed you felt your heart seize and the butterflies in your stomach turn into hornets. At this rate, they were going to turn into whole birds for fuck’s sake.

Nearing the end of the movie, the two of you were so invested, so captivated in the events, totally spellbound.

But then the film took a more emotional turn that wasn't in the comics. Daniela and her father had an absolutely vicious argument which left the two of you speechless watching it, which luckily got quickly resolved right after the two characters had a near-death experience together.

You weren't one to get emotional over silly, trivial things like fiction, but the way they showed this entire sequence was nothing short of heart-wrenching. You snatched up one of Ellie's patterned pillows and hugged it tightly to your chest, because cuddling her would have been much too bold for the likes of you. But what you’d give to do that instead.

Seems you were not the only one touched by the scene, as you began to hear some light sniffling from next to you. Looking over at Ellie made your heart break further into a million pieces. She looked lost in thought with thin lines of tears streaming down her plump, freckled cheeks.

You froze for a moment, not knowing the limits of your relationship with her and how you could comfort her best. So you cleared your throat and mumbled, “That was so sad…” You watched as she avoided your gaze and wiped at her face with the collar of her t-shirt, “Yeah, this kind of stuff hits me, feels a little personal y’know.” She has never opened up to you about her struggles before, in the short time you’ve known and gotten close with Ellie, it always seemed like she was there to help you out, not the other way around. This could be your chance to show her that you are there for her as well, and that she can always count on you.

Being curious but at the same time not wishing to pry too much into her private affairs, you quietly asked with the most gentle tone of voice you could muster,” You don’t have to, but I’m here if you ever wanna talk about it, Ellie.” You watched her out of the corner of your eye, anticipating however she reacts.

She stayed quiet for a beat before sighing deeply, and whispered, “We were having a fun time, I really don't wanna be a burden.” Her voice quivered, heavy with emotion, what could possibly be troubling her this much? You wanted to take all her pain and bear it yourself, she didn't deserve any sort of misfortune ever.

“You can tell me, don’t worry about anything, okay? I just want you to be all good.” You were comforting her so smoothly, putting her needs and well-being first as if it was always second nature, as if you two have known each other many lifetimes over, two souls meant to float together through the journey of life. Well okay, that was probably a bit much.

There were a few more seconds of silence as you let the question ring in the air, not wanting to press and jeopardize your cherished friendship with her.

You continue observing her, almost seeing the gears turning in her mind, the scales of reason tipping to one side then another, as she contemplates whether it’s worth spilling. Eventually, she does.

She roughly rubs her face then pauses the film playing on her laptop, sighs and huffs, before beginning to speak her story, all while looking away from you.

“Okay I don’t like to talk about this kind of stuff, but I trust you. A whole lot.” Your heart fluttered and face heated up at her comment, but you ignored it because there was something much more important on the table now. She continues, speaking quietly but quickly to get it over with.

“So, when I was a kid, I was an orphan and to be honest I don’t really remember my early childhood much at all, but when I was 14 my adoptive dad, Joel, took me in. And it’s been just us since then.” She stops to take a breath, then resumes reluctantly. “And well, we’ve had a pretty rocky relationship for a good chunk of these years, I never knew how to express my gratitude to him, y’know, for basically saving my life, numerous times at that. He was always my rock, and I appreciate him every day. He taught me so many things, and I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t come around. I was pretty hard to deal with back then.” She reminisces with an exhale of air, and you see her eyes refill with tears. “But I’m really bad at expressing that, and will kinda, lash out I guess when I’m met with kindness or tricky situations.”

You nod, listening patiently, and place your hand on her shoulder ever so gently, as a result making her raise her head to give you a small smile.

Ellie chuckled deeply, it almost sounded forced, then started to slowly wrap up her story. “And it seems that scene kinda hit me, because the wounds are still raw, or whatever.”

She sniffles again but doesn't respond, so you delicately inquire, “What do you mean?”

“He died last year.” Oof.

“Oh my, Ellie, I’m so sorry, are you-” She interrupts your condolences. “No need for that, I’m fine. Well, taking it day by day y’know. In the beginning it was really tough, I was angry at everything but most at myself for being such a jerk, and now I can't turn back time and tell him all I wanted to.” While you take a moment to think about what to say, she hums to herself and remarks, “That actually felt good to get off my chest, I haven't told anyone about it.” She lowers her voice so it’s barely a whisper. “Didn't have who to tell.”

“Sure you're okay? I'm always here for you.” You find your voice back to soothe her some more, to which she smiles at you again, only this time it actually seems genuine. There's definitely a lot of pain behind it, but the relief that she doesn't have to deal with the burden alone was evident on her face.

“Yeah, thanks. I guess I hadn’t processed anything, and that part of the movie made it all come out, damn I hate emotions sometimes. But I appreciate you being here for me. You're really easy to talk to, and I feel better now.”

And you would've never in a trillion years anticipated what her next move was going to be, you were so caught off guard, the realization lagged and it didn't immediately register.

She moved to sit on her knees in front of you, then threw her arms around your torso in a tight embrace. She hugged you. Clutched you so firmly against her own body, her strong hands landing in the middle of your back, where she rubbed in a circle. She smelled so nice, and was as warm as one of her heated stuffed animals.

Due to the surprising nature of the motion you let out a dumbfounded gasp, then returned the hug allowing yourself to rest your head on her shoulder. You wanted to stay like this forever, until the end of time, it felt nicer than you could've ever imagined.

The thought crossed your mind that she could feel the buzz pulsating through your body, you swore your heart was slamming against your ribcage so hard it was going to grow wings and simply fly right out of your chest, and join hands with hers.

While you were occupied with the way she felt against you, so close like this, chest against chest, and how your cheeks blazed with an inferno hotter than a thousand suns, you heard her grumble against your ear. “Not gonna make that same mistake again, and from now on, I'm gonna tell the people I appreciate just how much they matter to me.”

You were much too stunned to speak, but she wasn't. “So thank you again.” She finishes her little speech and pulls away first, but not before giving you one last big squeeze and letting out a noise of contentment as she does so, then shuffles over to her previous spot in the bed.

Not taking notice of the way you were at a loss for words, or about to set the room on fire with how flustered her actions made you. Her obliviousness was a common theme, it seemed. She clears her throat and claps, grabbing some more candy for herself, then says happily, “We still got the rest of the movie left, then we can do whatever after. I really wanna know how this ends.”

Naturally, your head is spinning, but you were too caught up in your thoughts to continue paying attention to the movie as much as you were before.

You felt awful for her, yet somehow, felt as if your crush on her had quadrupled in size yet again. You saw through the guard she put up, she broke down those walls and opened up to you. You were honored she trusted you so much, and only hoped that would never change. That, coupled with how remarkably good hugs she gave, has led you to the realization that you were properly in love now, things had gotten real. This was trouble. You vowed to always be there for her for whatever she could ever need, you'd drop everything to teleport by her side if you could.

Goodness, what were you possibly going to do now, instead of giving you the ick, or helping you with the task of getting rid of that stupid infatuation you were so plagued by, every experience felt like a deliberate ploy to just make you fall even further for her. You couldn't help but wonder just how much love a person can feel for someone, because it only continued to grow.

A couple days later.

Sitting in the cozy campus cafe, you were revising all your coursework. It was giving you a massive headache, but the warm and hazy lighting aided it a touch. The walls had cute plastic vines crawling up and down, and even though there was chatter all around you from the other patrons, it wasn't a distraction and in fact acted as some sort of white noise, everyone was talking in a nicely muted tone, it all blended to create the perfect ambience.

You waved down the waitress to get yet another cup of coffee, your third one of the night, that’s healthy, before trying to resume with your aggravating studies.

To your dismay, you've used up all your brain power for the evening, and could not force yourself to continue no matter how hard you tried. Maybe a few moments of peaceful people-watching would get you back on track?

You sip on the hot drink, then lean back against the comfortable booth seat to begin scanning around.

In one corner directly on the opposite side of where you were sitting, there was an elderly couple. They looked so in love, dressed in matching outfits, feeding each other as they shared a dessert, holding hands and conversing with a hushed tone, nodding and looking into each other's twinkling eyes. So cute, you hoped that was going to be you in the future.

Moving your line of sight to watch beside the couple, there was another student, their books and computer were scattered across the wooden table, piles of pens and pencil cases near falling over. They seemed to have fallen asleep, unmoving with their head laid tiredly across their crossed arms. The sight made you chuckle out of familiarity, you really felt for them, studies were hard.

But then a sound caught your attention. A bright, husky giggle fought its way over the ambience, reminiscent of a certain someone.

Your heart jumped, your ears perked up and you immediately became insistent on scouting her out among the patrons, this was a necessary mission.

Feeling highly nervous and antsy, you try to drown out the noise and focus on where she could be, and quickly enough, you find her.

Ellie in her natural habitat, she was so mesmerizing. Sitting far away from you where you could get a good view and hear snippets of conversation if you focused hard enough, but not close enough where she would notice your shameless gawking. She was sitting with a group of a handful of her friends, who all appeared to be gossiping and laughing with each other, you couldn't tear your eyes away.

Her smile was gorgeous, and you knew that, but there was something about just being a spectator which fascinated you, you could stare at her all day. Her energy lit up the entire room, and made your heart race.

Snapping out of your trance and trying to not be so obvious with your staring, you tried to look occupied, tried reorganizing your notes while still keeping an ear out to listen. Occasionally glancing over as well. Yes, it's true that eavesdropping is wrong, but you couldn't help yourself. Anyone would do the same, right?

The group's passionate discussion was making you extremely curious however, and you strained to hear what they were talking about. Among the muffled chatter, you heard a woman’s voice say the word crush, then an outburst of laughter, the loudest guffaw from Ellie herself.

You felt the budding panic start to form in your chest momentarily, but swallowed the lump forming in your throat and took a sharp intake of breath to calm yourself at once. They could be talking about anything, there's no need to jump to conclusions just yet. Fumbling around your bag for your headphones to listen to some of the song recommendations Ellie had given you, you’re led to discover that they are, in fact, dead. Of course.

Despite any and all wishes to stop eavesdropping on them and mind your own business and abide by what they say, ignorance is bliss, you simply couldn't. She was too damn captivating. Like a painting in a museum, like a statue at a town’s center, one that people stopped in their tracks to admire.

The way her eyes sparkled and gleamed under the warm lighting, her cheeks tinted a faint rosy hue from the exertion of laughing so hard, her sweet smile. She was too perfect. God, you hated crushes, being infatuated with someone to this degree couldn't be healthy. But what could you do? Just look at this angel.

Fidgeting nervously while still being entranced by the group of friends, you heard a man’s voice say the words “there’s no way”, followed by Ellie howling even harder than she had the whole time you've been watching them, and punch him forcefully on the shoulder.

The curiosity was going to swallow you whole, it was like a car crash you couldn't look away from. You felt your palms begin to tremble and sweat with worry, and anxious assumptions of all kinds running through your mind, were they talking about you? No, they couldn't be, you're just overthinking it. Relax, relax, relax.

You tried your hardest to control your breathing and soothe your spinning mind so you wouldn't spiral, until you heard something that absolutely shook you to your core.

The same woman from before, not Ellie, in a highly teasing tone of voice said your name.

You felt frozen, this couldn't be happening. All your worst fears were coming true at this very moment. You had to get out of there right away, this was too much to bear. Curiosity really did kill the cat didn't it, you wished you didn't comply with the morbid desire to know everything.

Panic-stricken like a deer in headlights, near hyperventilating at this point, the final straw was all three of them erupting into laughter simultaneously, with Ellie through gasps, going "oh come onnnn”.

Yeah that was it. Hot tears started pricking your eyes and you vigorously blinked them away before they started streaming down your face, as if you needed to be humiliated even more. You felt sadded, torn apart, betrayed. Sick to your stomach too. This time, for once, you really thought you had something going for you. From your perspective, albeit through rose-colored glasses, you were convinced she was being genuine with you all this time. How could you not be?

The late night study sessions, the air thick with tension, the conversations draped in a sleep-deprived haze, the walks to class together, the first fated interaction, the looks you two shared from across the huge lecture hall; the looks where you two just knew when to share a glance, was all of that fake? Was she leading you on purposefully because her friends thought it was funny, that you were a joke?

The tears threatened to spill and your stomach twisted painfully with the world-shattering realizations you were just served with, and you angrily shoved your belongings in your bag.

You were too caught up in your panicked frenzy to notice how disruptive you were actually being, your textbooks thumping and keychains jingling, but frankly didn't care enough to meet the numerous pairs of eyes observing your misfortune. Who could blame you, your whole world and everything you've known just crumbled before you.

You slung your bag over your shoulder noisily as a choked sob made its way up your throat, then speed-walked out of that cafe. You were never going to be able to go in there again unfortunately, shame, their pastries were so good.

Right as you tried to step through the door it got stuck, because the universe was being really nice to you today, and as you tugged on it to get it to open, you heard the friends lower their voices, but you could still make out a jumble of hushed words sounding something like, “oh no, is that…” Great, great, fucking great. The only solution to this was to change your name and ride up to Seattle for goodness’ sake, maybe throw yourself into a volcano as well just because.

Finally the door swung open after what felt like eons, and you stumbled outside into the chilly autumn air, feeling goosebumps spring up all over. Where you were going, you didn't really know. This cafe was new, so it would take some time to figure out navigation so you stood dumbly in the middle of the front lawn as you tried to orient yourself.

Once you think you've got it, you start your agonizing trek back to your little room, screaming inside of your head, until you're harshly yanked back mid-footstep by a vice grip on your arm. What the fuck was it now.

Ellie. The sight of her only made your tears increase in quantity and the emotion in your chest tighten. She looked a little disheveled, her eyes round like saucers, and she was gripping onto your arm so hard as if you were going to run away. You wanted to, but she still had a magnetic hold on you, even after all that turmoil.

Talking was painful with how much you were trying to keep a hold of yourself, but you managed out a choked, “Ellie, what?”

She looked befuddled, shaking her head ever so slightly and scrunching up her eyebrows, her gaze boring right into yours and following whenever you tried to break it and look elsewhere. Her hold on your arm softens, and moves to rest on your shoulder. “What do you mean what? You ran outta there like you were chased by a lunatic or something, what the fuck happened?”

Her tone startled you a little, why did she care so much? Noticing you jolt, she sighs and mellows her speech. “Sorry, what I mean to say is, I'm worried. Are you okay?”

You worried her? Heat rushed to your cheeks as you fought to break the increasingly uncomfortable eye contact, and all you could do was shrug. Your lip started quivering and you were losing the fight of keeping your composure, how wonderful. Despite everything she was being so sweet, way too sweet. You felt helpless at this point.

The words started pouring out of your mouth like a waterfall, you were properly sobbing now, falling apart and hiccuping as months and months of emotion spilled over.

You were blabbering about how you loved the friendship you formed with her, but how hurt you felt that she’d laugh about you, every possible insecurity just tumbled out of your lips, as you wiped at your teary face and runny nose and glanced at Ellie ever so often.

She let you talk for a bit until she saw you get even more upset, that's when she got a step closer to you, squeezed both your shoulders gently and kept a stern tone of voice to get your attention.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, slow down, I don't know what you're saying.” But you couldn't stop crying. Bottling up emotions was definitely a bad idea, because they were bound to burst sooner or later and unfortunately, you reached the breaking point. Sucking in some unsteady breaths as an attempt to regulate yourself, she was watching you patiently yet still cautiously.

Your voice was weak and shaky, but you were slowly feeling a little better. For the first time during this interaction, you meet her eyes. Why was she always so pretty? She was sculpted just to spite you, you were convinced. Tears welled up in your eyes once more, but you blinked them away. “Um…Ellie…” She nodded expectantly, wanting to know what was wrong. But you could not complete your sentence as yet another bout of ache washed over you.

To snap you out of it once and for all, Ellie grabbed your face. The sheer disbelief of her action was enough to stop your tears luckily, and she held your gaze while she used her thumb to swipe at the stray teardrops adorning your cheekbones. You wanted to die, what was going on?

Once your panic was replaced with fluster and stupefaction, she let you go, but was still standing really close to you. You felt jittery from it all, nervous, embarrassed and in love and everything under the sun all at the same time. You stared at her, then looked away, then looked at her plump pink lips which were set in a questioning pout, then back up to her sympathetic greener-than-grass eyes, fuck, fuck, fuck. The intensity of the situation had caused any sense of judgment or critical thinking to long, long gone, and so your body moved on its own and before you had a chance to form a solid thought or process what you were doing.

Smooch.

You kissed her.

Mouths colliding like magnets as you held onto the sides of her face, fireworks igniting in every single part of your body. Cradling her jaw as you closed the space between you two, the hurricane of emotion coursing through your veins as your lips caressed hers, and time felt like it had stopped. The months and months of excruciating pining had all led up to this very moment.

She instinctively kissed you back, you felt her breaths fanning your face. You were about to ascend to another dimension. Lingering against her for a little longer, you forced yourself to regretfully pull away, and laughed loudly at her state now.

Her lips were parted and she was gawking at you, you had broken her completely. Your own heart was working overtime, you were panting from the adrenaline of the situation, and could only hear the blood rushing in your ears.

She seemed to be in a coma, doing nothing but staring and breathing. You punched her arm playfully, your voice breaking.

“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.”

An frustrated confession tore itself from your throat, even the world's strongest iron bars couldn't contain it. You wiped at your face with your sleeves, a sad attempt to clear it of the residual salty tears that never once stopped their journey out of your eyes.

The sadness had left you, and you felt lighter now, truthfully. Had no idea how you would ever face her again after all this, but at least the cat was out of the bag and you had gotten that off of your chest. You both stood there in silence, now what was wrong with her? What a dork. Sucking on your teeth and kicking a pebble on the ground you admitted finally, “So, yeah. That's what's been troubling me, I guess.”

Her pupils were dilated and huge, as she scanned all over your features, her mouth opening and closing as if she was having an internal battle of what to say. She stood there almost appearing miles more shocked than you somehow, she looked as if she was going to have a heart attack and die on you, you found it funny, but concerning at the same time.

You watched her for a moment more, before accepting your disappointing fate and bidding her a goodbye. You cleared your throat. “Okay then. Cya in class. Bye.” You turned on your heel and began the walk back to your room, but this time for real, and didn't look back at her. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't, you wanted to leave this whole fiasco in the past. That chapter was closed, it seemed.

The only thing left to do now was call your bestie, Abby. She has been your cheerleader through this whole thing, through all this time, gave you advice and brought you back to Earth, and you needed her support now more than ever.

Right after you reached your dorm she was there in no time at all, after receiving your distress call she scrambled into action, with chocolates and boxed wine in hand. Maybe you should just date her instead at this point. Who else was left for you?

You talked and talked and talked to her about everything for so long, talking the night away just like old times, and she sat and listened to your every word, patted your back reassuringly as you weeped into her shoulder, then tucked you into bed at the end of it all. She left only when she was sure you'd relaxed fully.

You didn't fall asleep quite yet, and stayed awake thinking, pondering life and staring up at your ceiling. It turns out angrily confessing to the girl you've been infatuated with forever by impulsively kissing her and letting the whole campus know it was a tiring thing after all. You really did cause a bit of a scene, when you thought about it in hindsight.

But what was this all like from Ellie's perspective? You wished you could know what she thought, or at least gotten some sort of formal response. Her friend storms out of a cafe, kisses her and screams she's in love with her? It's certainly understandable she'd feel a little lost, or under great pressure to give you an answer. Her reaction did make sense though, after being met with such a shocking revelation. Wow, now that you were really thinking about it, she still did not know why you ran out of the cafe like that. You wished you could turn back time and redo this day, shame that wasn't possible. Were you two ever going to have a discussion about this, or had you just lost a friend for life. Oh no, you pushed that thought away as quickly as it appeared, you didn't have an ounce of energy left over to dwell on it.

You'd work out what you were going to face her next later, a very well-deserved visit to dreamland was way overdue. You felt your eyelids grow heavy and your breathing slow, so you turned on your side and snuggled into your bed, eventually falling into a deep, deep sleep.

Meanwhile on your bedside table:

Bzz, bzz, bzz.

lovely taggies: @lasting-lover @radioheadfan699 @sophie-thefrog8 @machetegirl109 @ellieschair @aouiaa @wavesgocrash @tangerinngi @elliesbitchvenus @amiorca @dinaissoprettyoml @rxreaqia @camicocom1a @elliesexual @smelliewilliams @boobdrug @writing-on-a-bathroom-stall @bready101 @yourelliewillms @ap3arll @bunnyrose01 @elliesactualgirlfriend @paranoiero @sakiigami @4ftergloww @ellstronaut @vqxen @desireesfics @lez-zuha @dyk3ang3l @iluvellie0089 @tphmnv @seraphicsentences @seaseasalts @biblically-accurate-ellie @deliriousrn @pxterpfx + a very special tag to @fleshunger hehe :)

if i wasn't able to tag you, investigate the issue somewhere in your settings!

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mvnsvn6 · 8 months

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Have a mini fic about Steve annotating books and Eddie finding it really hot🖤

So obviously, Eddie's a bookworm. Before he had any friends, he spent the better parts of his childhood at Hawkins Library after school and Hawkins Middle's library during any recesses and lunches. He constantly read books, this was before Wayne got him a guitar and before he got into dnd, and being a bookworm tremendously helped him fuel both of those hobbies later on. But before then? The library was like a second home to him.

And so, recently founding out that Steve reads, like a lot, is something of a revalation. It's not that Eddie thinks the guy is stupid, but he figured the guy spent time doing other productive hobbies at home. But the guy reads, and as previously mentioned, Eddie considers himself a literature connoisseur of sorts. Writing book reports and essays were one of the few things he actually excelled at in high school.

So anyway, he found out that Steve is a book nerd by finding one of Steve's books open on his bed. Not really the strangest thing that Eddie's come across in Steve's room if he's being honest, and not the biggest indicator of nerdiness, until he focuses his attention and acknowledges the bright colors sprawled across the pages.

A burst of rainbow colors underlining what Eddie guesses are his favorite parts of the story or important stuff he wanted to remember. And obviously, Eddie has to ask him about it. and Steve explains to him that he has a whole color key and it's made up of romantic lines that make him feel warm, sad stuff that makes him tear up, stuff that is word for word undoubtedly Steve Harrington sprawled on a page. Steve won't tell him which color is which, too embarrassed by it, but he lets Eddie read through them, and then he stares at Steve in unyeilding fondness.

The look reflected on Steve's is not the same, mostly anxiety and insecurity, which Eddie immediately wants to soothe. It's so so sweet he thinks but Eddie's mouth translates the words into, "That's so fucking hot." Which, shit man, it is but he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"Shut up, dude, don't make fun of me right now."

And listen, books are everything to him, this is no joking matter. They inspire his own stories, whether through a dnd campaign or writing song lyrics. It's honestly probably the most attractive thing a person could do in Eddie's opinion, he didn't know how hot until right about now, but he'll die on this hill. Annotating your books is hot.

"Listen to me when I say this Steve, while that is the nerdiest thing I've ever heard and I'm, ya know, me. It's also about the most attractive thing that's come out of that pretty mouth of yours, like ever."

And Steve folds his arms across his fucking beautifully sculpted chest and narrows his eyes just slightly, raising a judgemental eyebrow at him.

"You're being serious."

Oh he's never been more serious about anything in his life.

"Uh...yeah? Yes. Oh my god."

Yeah, real eloquent Edward.

Whatever, his heart is pounding profuesely against his rib cage because holy shit Steve is a book nerd and Eddie wants to kiss him fucking yesterday. So he gets on all fours on Steve's bed to lean forward and basically attacks his mouth before he can even think about it.

And when he pulls back, Steve's pupils are blown wide and his breath has picked up pace, and Steve keeps bouncing between looking at Eddie's eyes and his lips.

"You just kissed me."

It comes out disbelieving.

"Yeah and with your permission I'd like to continue, like stat, immediately, now."

"You're insane."

And hands weave through curls and pull.

Eddie tumbles foward, ending fully sprawled on top of Steve, and, jesus christ, body pressed impossibly close to his.

And after they're romantic, read: nerdy horniness, little makeout session, he forces Steve to read the annotations himself, going through all the books that are important to Steve. He has to stop himself from moaning to really emphasize how hot he finds it, and to make Steve slightly embarrassed, but refrains. Just lets him continue.

Eddie has never been so in love in his life.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #ficlet #stranger things fic #my writing

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐓

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

genre: smut, office romance

word count: 5k

summary: a week after walking in on your boyfriend fucking someone else, Max gives you the day off. You leave, unaware that you dropped your watch. Much to your surprise, he brings it to you. Your relationship with him escalates in the following days.

warnings: office sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, use of 'sir' & 'good girl', piv, dom/sub dynamics, very mild degradation (he calls you his cocksleeve like once), dumbification if you squint, soft!max at times

a/n: I drafted this months ago and only now I finally finished the fic, I have no idea why I waited this long especially since I'd written most of it back then but other wips got in the way--sorry Max lmaodvdf this is my first time writing for you and I hope I did you justice 🖤 I rewatched his scenes and I'm still so horny for this man it's making me look stupid

Max’s office is the nicest one of everyone who works in this building, albeit a bit darker. There’s a succulent on his desk that reminds you of a translucent star and you can’t seem to draw your eyes away from it. His voice is smooth and melodic but you aren’t really listening. Your hand moves over to your watch, feeling the coolness of metal underneath your fingertips. It’s nice.

It’s safe to say that you’re not really paying attention to anything.

Your eyes are wet still, a sting every time you dare to blink. It’s been a week since you found your boyfriend screwing someone else on the couch in the living room. The image still lingers in your head, taunting you.

While you stared, unblinking as they scrambled for their clothes, all you could think of how happy you were that they didn’t use the bedroom.

Now that the relationship is over it’s easier to see the red flags. The way he belittled you, your passions, the things that you enjoyed. Your body, your cooking, anything you did was never enough for him. It was an open invitation to mock you for who you were. And that was the least of it, he never touched you, and you had to beg him for sex— not in the fun kind if you might add. You feel so fucking stupid for trying to make him happy.

“You’re not listening are you?”

You flinch upon hearing the question, eyes finally snapping away from the succulent and turning to Max. You didn’t mean to be so obvious about it. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. . . Great, another person you couldn’t make happy no matter what you did.

“You’ve been like this all week. Is there something going on? You can take leave if you need to, you’re not really much use like this anyway”

His words sting but you can’t really blame him for it. Though you did find it funny that as an immortal he was so pressed for time.

“Sorry,” you say and he looks at you, really looks at you. Brown eyes move from your eyes to your lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his own. “I’ll do better just some... personal stuff going on,”

“Family?”

“Shitty breakup.”

“Oh.”

Max appreciates bluntness. You figured that one out on your first day here. He isn’t a fan of keeping anything that might affect your work bottled up. He doesn't like the guessing game either. If there’s something wrong he wants to know and if he can he’ll fix it. Not that he can really fix a broken heart.

He suddenly stands up, making his way around the desk. He lends against the edge, hands on his lap. Instictecly you curl your fingers around the armrests. Max is pretty docile for the most part, unless he’s hungry. But the way he’s looking down at you, brows relaxed and a faint smile tugging at his lips, it makes your heart drop. He’s a walking corpse but his eyes are more alive compared to most people you’ve met.

“I’m sure you’ll be happier without commitment wearing you down,” he says, voice dropping, barely above a whisper. You shudder and fail to see the way his fingers twitch. “Don’t think about it, relax, sweetheart.”

And you do. It’s like warm water dancing over your skin. Your shoulders slump, your body limply sinking into the chair. A lazy smile spreads across your lips and he smiles back, teeth winking at you between his plush lips. “That’s it. You’re not feeling anything now, are you?”

You giggle, shaking your head. Even your heartbeat slows, the tips of your fingers tingling with pleasure—

You blink, pinching your brows, you slowly roll your shoulders and hear your bones crack. Max is gazing at you with utmost curiosity, thumbs drumming silently.

Then it hits you. The fucker is using his powers. Fucking vampires.

“Stop it,” you hiss, your body relaxed but mind racing. He rolls his eyes and waves his hand as a sign of dismissal. The tension that had disappeared from your muscles return at full force, and you jolt. “You shouldn’t do that,”

“I was trying to help,” he answers without a care in his tone. He buttons his vest and gestures with his head to the door. “Take the rest of the day off. Sort yourself. See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“Just go. It’s fine,” when you fail to look convinced, he pouts and draws a cross over his chest. Ironic. “I swear. Now go, take the day off, collect your thoughts or whatever you need to do,”

You leave without pointing out the irony of him making a cross over his non-beating heart. You’ve worked long enough to know that if the boss wants you to take the time off, you take the time off.

Max drags his palm over his face, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he hops off the desk and turns to look at the empty seat you left behind. He’s not sure if he should be condoning this kind of behavior. He doesn’t want people barging in here asking to leave with the most minuscule of problems. But it isn’t typical of you to be distracted so he decided that you earned it.

He’s curious about what kind of man would be stupid enough to leave you, let alone make you look that sad. Not that it’s any of his business.

Max is amidst turning on his heel when he sees it. A small sparkle on the carpeted floor. Cocking an eyebrow, he leans over with his hands in his pockets. A watch?

That’s right you had a watch when you came in, you were playing with it while he was going over the weekly sales. You must’ve dropped it. Looking almost bored, he scoops it off the floor and stares at it. He sees your initials written on the back, a pretty, delicate little accessory.

Surely you would miss it. He knows your address due to dragging your drunk self back home after an office party— so maybe he should bring it to you. Max sighs and flips the watch over. He has time to make a quick stop.

He leaves the office with the watch snug in his pocket. It really isn’t his style to be nice, or remorseful, but he does feel a tad guilty using his powers on you. He genuinely did think he was doing some good. It did look like you were feeling better until you broke out of the trance.

Max steps into the elevator. The tedious music loud and scratching his ears as always.

Taking a day off isn’t going as smoothly as you had hoped.

Initially, you thought you would binge your favorite shows and eat a bucket of ice cream. Instead, you ended up staring blankly at the ceiling, arm dangling out from the side of the bed. It’s a shitty feeling. Your heart feels heavy and uncomfortable. Maybe Max taking away the pain wasn’t so bad after all?

There’s a loud knock on the door and you jump. Every bone in your body aches, your heart beating fast as you head to the living room. You’re praying to every god you know that it’s not your ex. You don’t want to deal with him. Especially not today.

You take a deep, calming, breath. It’s okay. He wouldn’t just show up now, would he? Stupidly enough you don’t look through the peephole before yanking the door open, the person that lurks on the other side takes you by surprise completely.

It’s Max.

What the hell?

“Hiii,” he says with a smug grin. He lifts something to your line of vision and it takes you a moment to recognize your watch. “Found this, thought you might miss it.”

Blinking, you open your palms and he drops it. It feels like a dream. “Uh…thanks,”

“You’re welcome,” he peers over your shoulder, looking into the dimly lit apartment. “So how’s your day off going?”

“Not as fun as I hoped,” you give him a bittersweet smile. His eyes meet yours, and you see your reflection in them, so bright. “Do you want to come inside?”

A shudder climbs your spine when something dark crosses his face, eyes becoming sharper. Your stomach churns and you swallow, fingers tightening around the watch.

“Would love to” he chirps, practically jumping over the threshold. “Thank you for the invite, much obliged.”

“You really can’t come in without being invited?” you ask, closing the door with a push of your heel.

“Nope,” he answers, emphasizing on the p. “Why do you think I left you at the door after the party? You were too drunk to say ‘come in’ I basically had to push you through the door just so you could crawl the rest of the way to your bedroom,”

“I honestly thought you were just being an asshole,”

He scoffs, “I am an asshole. Just not to the people I like,”

He drops down to the couch, which in return makes your stomach sink. You really need to burn it, you don’t think you can have it in your apartment anymore. You sit across from him, placing the watch neatly on top of the coffee table. “I wasn’t aware you liked me,”

“Let’s say tolerate. I like your work ethic.”

“Thank you?” you answer, unsure.

“You’re very much welcome.”

You’re not sure why you invited him inside. He doesn’t drink coffee unless it’s morning, and he doesn’t really like to eat as far as you could tell. The silence is deafening and uncomfortable. You part your lips to ask if he would like tea or anything else but he beats you to it, gaze fixated on you.

“So, how did it happen?”

Your throat goes dry, “What?”

“The break-up,” he shrugs and leans back into the couch, you internally cringe. “Do you want me to break his neck or something?”

“What—No!” you’re horrified but can’t ignore the way warmth blossoms in your chest. You’re highly aware that he’s joking, however, it’s still a nice thought that someone actually cares enough to get pissed about it. “Where did that even come from?”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure I like seeing you so sad. It’s unnerving.”

“Sorry that my misfortune is bothering you,” you answer, crossing your arms. “He cheated on me, and I’m only now realizing how shitty he was.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,”

“So I do need to break his neck then?”

You laugh.

You aren’t expecting it, but here you are rubbing tears from your eyes as you laugh with your whole body. There’s just something about the way he said it; as if it was the most normal thing to do. He seems to enjoy the way you laugh. Smiling wide and bright, watching you with fond eyes.

After minutes, your laughter starts to die down, softening into breathless giggles. You’re surprised to find that Max is still smiling at you, no smugness, no cockiness, just an earnest smile.

“Thank I really needed that,” you say, heat building at the base of your spine. “Sorry if I worried you. It’s been a bit rough lately.”

“We can’t all be perfect every second,” he grins, he flattens his palms over his thighs, moving them up and down. Your breath hitches, eyes involuntarily dropping to his crotch. You’re flustered all of a sudden. He tilts his head, tongue poking out of his cheek as he gives you an open-mouthed smirk. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

Your eyes snap to his face, cheeks burning, “Nope. Not—Not at all,”

He leans forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. There’s a table in between but you feel as if he’s a breath away. You swallow, goosebumps rousing over your skin.

“You know I can smell it right?” he purrs. “I can smell the arousal gathering between your legs. I can hear the way your heart is beating… That asshole had no idea how to fuck you properly did he?”

Your pussy bottoms out at his words. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction that he’s right, you don’t want him to know how badly you want him inside. For him to whisper praises into your ear as you squirm around his cock. You lick your lips. He’s not using his powers, you can tell. Yet you still want to blame it on the fact that he’s doing something to make you feel so hot and bothered. But it’s not him, just you.

You’re not sure when you started to have the hots for your boss, but clearly, there was something there. Lurking in the darkness of your mind.

“Look at you,” he coos, eyes raking over your body. “So sweet and afraid. Let me be the first one to say that he didn’t deserve you. Not in the slightest,”

“Max…” you warn.

“Yeah…?” he mimics your tone, smile somehow wider. “Would you want to get coffee before work tomorrow morning?”

The question catches you by surprise. You observe him for a brief moment, he seems dead serious—at least the amount of serious Max Phillips can be.

You nod.

Your first early morning coffee date with Max goes exactly how you expect it to go. You pay for both coffees as a thank you. He found it unnecessary but grumbled a thanks anyway. He talks a lot about work; about sales, about his time in Romania. But mostly work. You do appreciate the distraction though so you don’t complain. You pitch in, telling him ways the company could improve but also adding that you want to quit one day and do something better with your life.

The following mornings follow the same pattern. Mostly conversations about work, and sipping coffee. That is until Tuesday rolls around. It’s an especially cold morning and you find yourself huddling closer to him as the two of you sat on the bench. He doesn’t really seem bothered by the cold, which makes sense since he’s cold-blooded.

Max’s eyes drop to your trembling fingers that were curled helplessly around the coffee cup. You notice his frown, his gaze lifts back up to meet your eyes. “Do you want to go inside?”

“No, I’m good. Besides it’s too early to start working.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “We do get here early don’t we.”

“I mean…we don’t have to. But I have been enjoying our mornings.”

“So have I,” he chews on his bottom lip, instinctively moving closer to you when he feels a shudder crawling up your spine. “It sucks that I can’t really warm you up—being undead and all— This would be the perfect moment to hold your hands.”

Funnily enough, he does manage to warm you up. You look down at your hands, the cup only half full, you place it to the side. Max truly had been a balm to your broken heart these past couple of days. He never got overly flirtatious again as he did in your apartment, some part of you is disappointed that he didn’t.

“You can—” you lick your lips, the wetness furthering the chill. “You can still do that. If you want to.”

“Yeah?” he moves his jaw, eyes dropping to your lips. “You’ll be colder.”

“I think it might be worth the risk.”

Max brings your hands to his lips, brushing your knuckles and kissing each finger individually. You shudder. He wasn’t wrong, he was awfully cold. But you weren’t wrong either, it’s worth it. Hundred percent. His mouth moves over the back of your hand in the shape of waves, the pit in your stomach rolling, and butterflies fluttering in your chest. His eyes meet yours and you’re mesmerized by him. His eyebrows raise, lips kissing the curve of your wrist, laying a path to the inside, he drags his teeth over the skin right above the vein.

A sudden fear spikes from your feet to your neck. He wouldn’t, would he?

“Are you afraid of me?” the question is whispered with a breath into your skin. Everywhere except the tip of your nose is warm. He looks at you with heavy eyelids, lashes kissing his cheeks every time he blinks.

You don’t have an answer, but you know what he needs to hear.

“I’m not.”

Before you can blink his lips mold into yours. He traces the seam of your mouth with his tongue eagerly, and you part your lips, allowing him to taste and dominate. With both hands he holds your wrists firmly, pulling you close until you’re basically flush against him. Max inhales as he presses deeper, licking the inside of your mouth and swallowing your whines.

He breaks away from you with a smile, you see the flash of fangs.

You gently knock on the already open door. Max is positively exhausted. His eyes snap from his computer to you, he sighs and signals you to enter with two fingers. You close the door when you enter.

“Are we still good for dinner?” you ask, feeling slightly foolish now that you were standing in the middle of his office.

“Sorry baby, not today. These assholes managed to mix everything up, need to fix all that so I’m going to be here late,”

You try very hard not to look disappointed. You already know you failed when you feel your bottom lip starting to quiver. You ball your hands into weak fists, pushing your nails into your skin. He notices, a moment of worry crosses his face.

Tonight wasn’t really a date, or anything important. It was just dinner.

Then why are you so upset?

You neither move away nor lean in as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs, and you exhale at the way you can feel his chest move underneath you.

“Nothing, just—Don’t worry about it. I’m just being clingy. I know you’re busy,”

“Clingy? Oh, sweetheart,” he rolls his chair back and slaps his thigh. “Come, sit on my lap.”

“Uh…” your eyes flit between his spread legs and his face. “Excuse me?”

“Just get your gorgeous self over here.”

Swallowing, your legs move on their own. Your heart does somersaults in your chest. His smile never falters as you slowly lower yourself down, feeling his frame under you. Your insides clench. Your arms shake. You feel his breath on your neck when he guides your arms around his neck. He presses his lips where your neck and chest meet, heat coils in your stomach.

“Max…”

“You could never be too clingy,” he murmurs. “And even if you were I would love it. I’m actually really happy you came over, I was starting to think this thing between us was going nowhere.”

“You want it…to go somewhere?”

“Of course, I fucking do,” he snaps, looking up, glaring at you. “Do you think I come here that early just to drink coffee—I like spending time with you.”

You feel yourself start to tremble as his hands move up your thighs and cup your ass. He squeezes gently and you gasp, your skin prickling under his touch. His lips move away from your neck, pressing soft kisses up your jaw until he reaches your ear.

"I want to take this further," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to fuck you, sweetheart. Bend you over this table and make you scream my name because I’m sure haven’t been screaming anything for a while."

His hands move around your body, tracing the line of your spine and the curves of your hips. His touch is gentle and yet rough at the same time, your heart beats faster with each passing second. You melt into him, wanting more, wanting him.

“I want to feel your wet cunt around my cock,” he groans, dragging his teeth down the column of your neck. His voice drops an octave. “Let me fuck you sweet thing.”

You pause for a moment, and then you nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Yes," you whisper. "Yes, I want this too."

Max smiles, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss. He nips at your bottom lip before pulling it and slipping his tongue into your mouth. Pulling you closer—inhaling you—he cups your head from both sides, and groans into your mouth. You feel the growing wetness between your legs, your body having a mind of its own, you grind down on him, shuddering as you feel the hard length under his pants.

“Needy,” he tuts, gripping you by the neck. You hiss when he yanks you back, the rest of your body falling still. “You’ll take what I give you. Is that clear?”

“Yes—” you bite the inside of your cheek. “Yes, sir.”

Your cheeks burn as his eyes widen momentarily. Then he closes them, taking a steady breath, he cocks his head to the side. A soft hum echoes in his throat.

“I like that,” he purrs, opening his eyes. “Say that again.”

“Please, sir.” you choke out.

Max's grip tightens as he bends you over the office table. You gasp, your skin hot as he shoves your pants down to your knees. While you kick them off, you hear a zipper, feel the weight of his cock on the top of your ass. Your face is directly staring at the door— If someone were to waltz in, the first sight to greet them would see you taking your boss’s cock. However, you can hardly care when his warm breath fans your neck, his breathing uneven and rushed.

He slips his hands down and cups your ass, kneading and squeezing as he shoves you further against the cold desk.

"You look so sexy like this," he growls, his cock pushing against your ass as he presses himself against you. His hands move up your body, and he starts tugging at the buttons of your shirt, loosening them one by one. His lips brush against your ear and you shiver in anticipation as his hot breath tickles your skin.

"Say. It."

It’s a threat and some wicked part of you is tempted to exhaust his patience. His hands move down your body, and his fingers start to tease your nipples as he traces circles around them. Then, when you don’t answer, he pinches them harshly.

Your body jerks at the sharp pain, an acute moan rips from your throat.

“Fuck me, sir. Please.”

“You sound so good like this, begging for my cock,” he purrs. “I’m going to go easy on you today sweetheart, but don’t expect me to always be so nice.”

He slides his hands lower, and his fingers slip between your legs, teasing and caressing your wetness. Your eyes roll back as his fingers start to penetrate you, and you grind downs in search of more. Wanting him deeper, wanting more of him.

“So fucking wet,” he coos, he pulls out his fingers, smearing wet streaks across your hips. He nudges his cock between your folds and rocks his hips, the catches against your clit and a loud moan rips from your throat. “That’s my girl, and you thought I didn’t want this. What kind of idiot wouldn’t want this pretty cunt? Hmm?”

“Max, please. . .”

You hear the growl that rattles his chest. Closing his eyes, he cocks his head to the side, tongue tracing the edges of his fangs. “I really love hearing you beg,” he groans. “And the blood rush in your veins.”

Your breath catches in your throat—and in one smooth thrust, he slips inside of you. You clutch the edges of the desk, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Suddenly the rest of the world blurs and it’s just you and him. He stretches you perfectly, his length deep enough to hit all the right spots. His hands smooth a path up your spine. You practically purr at the feeling. You whimper, and when you do, his lips are on your neck in an instant. His body a cool, yet comfortable, blanket on top of you.

“Good girl. Look at you, being so obedient,” he licks the salt off your skin. “You feel so good, baby. The perfect cocksleeve for the boss.”

“Oh god—” you choke out. You have no idea how to respond to that, but your body sure does. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him tight. His breath hitches. You feel him straighten behind you, his hands press you down from the waist and you can’t help the small squeal that parts your lips.

He’s restraining himself. You can tell by the way his hips twitches, eager to bury more of himself into you. His nails bite into your skin and instinctively you raise your hips. “Maaax,” you moan. “Fuck me, please. I can take it.”

“You can, can’t you?” he mutters, sounding almost impressed. “My perfect girl. You’ll take everything I’ll give you?”

You breathe out, “Yes—”

And he gives you everything.

Every thrust knocks the air from your lungs. Somewhere on the desk your arm hits a stack of papers and they fly everywhere, making a mess on the floor. Max doesn’t stop. He jackhammers into you, splitting you into two. It never felt this intense before. Never. You struggle to breathe and with every snap of his hips, you feel slick dripping down your thighs. Max groans as he wraps his fingers around your neck, pulling you up. Your breasts sway with every stroke, your nipples aching from how hard they are. His one hand remains on your throat as the other moves to your chest, kneading the soft mound in his palm.

“Wouldn’t be fun if someone walked in right now?” he teases, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Seeing you getting absolutely railed—kinda wish I had a mirror so I could see how cock drunk you look, sweetheart.”

Fuck, is all you can think and you desperately want to voice it out, tell him how good it feels. His voice, his breath, his teeth, his cock— But all you can do is whimper helplessly, hoping that the sound is enough to convey how much you’re enjoying this.

“So stupid for me, I love it. You want me to make you come?”

Another whimper. You nod helplessly, forcing yourself back to meet the movement of his hips. He hums as his hand slides between your legs, he draws wet circles around your clit, and your entire body clenches. You can barely hear him from the blood rush in your ears but you think he mumbles ‘oh shit’. Max continues to play with the sensitive bundle of nerves, with fast strokes he mumbles profanities against your skin.

You come with his name on your lips. Your body convulses, muscles clenching and unclenching over and over as you gush all around his cock. It feels never-ending. He grinds his hips, burying himself deeper, throbbing inside. You hiss as your second orgasm washes over you, fluttering and twitching, your body goes limp. You're fairly certain if Max wasn’t holding you up, you’d collapse.

Much to your surprise, Max slowly lays you on top of the desk and the office ceiling comes into view. He’s still pulsing between your legs. He smiles down at you, slides his fingers between your lips—the same fingers he made you come with—and leans in to shove his tongue alongside them. You part your lips wide, the taste of yourself and him making your head spin. You moan around his tongue and fingers. He pulls back with a smile.

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?” he asks, cupping your face with the same hand.

“You can come inside,” you answer in a daze, then quickly add. “You can’t get me pregnant right?”

He shakes his head and you smile, “Go ahead then.”

It doesn’t take him long. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and takes deep inhales of your scent as he spills inside of you. You thread your fingers through his soft locks and gently tug on them. He groans.

“That’s nice,” he hums, pressing his lips over your clavicle. “I wanna spend an eternity between your legs.”

“Should I be scared that you actually can do that?” you say with a soft chuckle, he looks down at you, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. He wiggles his brows.

“Maybe.”

Max slowly pulls out, and when he stands, he watches the mess pour between your legs. His pupils eat away the color of his eyes and you shudder at how hungry he looks.

Suddenly shy, you avert your gaze as you try to collect yourself, “Sorry about messing up your schedule. I’ll see you later.”

“And where do you think you’re going?”

He grabs your wrists and pulls you into an embrace. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until you feel yourself melting into him.

“Fuck work,” he says, his hand resting over the small of your back. “I’ll get it done later. Let’s go home so I can at least spend tonight between your legs.”

You grin into his chest, happy that he can’t see how ecstatic you look. He probably knows how excited you are anyway.

“Sounds like a plan.”

#max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips x f!reader #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x fem!reader #bloodsucking bastards #bloodsucking bastards fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

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camilaxmartin · 2 months

Text

her precious angel

request: Maybe a Velvette x reader fic where the reader is a fallen angel that helped Charlie out during the extermination but ended up losing one of their wings and now Velvette is just taking care of the reader?👀 this might be too much to ask but it's a fun idea and I suck at writing fics😭 but if you do end up doing it I will be very thankful :3

(from @kimmyisachiisaiakuma)

navigation // rules // masterlist

summary: *ask*

warnings: NOT PROPF READ probably ooc velvette, valentino not being a dick for the first time in his live, i’m not entirely sure if you can count it as angst but i guess a lot of crying-ish stuff??

notes: i’m still so fucking mad about this one like?? the amount of nerves i’ve wasted on this, tumblr💀 but anyway, it’s shorter than normally but i guess i like how it turned out anyway? i mean- it was hard with motivation yesterday/today but i managed to write it anyway so hurray! also i enjoyed writing lute as a bad guy a bit too much💀

requests: open!!

it was all happening so fast. the whole battle for the hotel was supposed to go differently as none of you were prepared for alastor’s shield to go down so quickly. everyone was trying their best at fighting angels but it turned out to be easier said than done. angel and husk were fighting angels on the ground alongside charlie and vaggie while you were flying in the air trying to stop as many of your past sisters as you could. angelic weapons swinging right and left making many of the exterminators fall down to the ground lifeless.

as the battle went on, you noticed adam fighting with alastor and almost fully killing him. you turned your head to him noticing him just disappearing and squinted your face not understanding were he went to. just as you turned your head again, you saw lute flying at you at a high speed with her sword in her hands. not being able to do anything else you just used one of you wings to shield yourself so her weapon wouldn’t hurt you that badly. you groaned in pain when the sharp tip pushed into your wing and opened it immediately trying to push it away. lute took it away and grabbed your shoulders flying straight onto the roof of the hotel.

both of you hit the ground, your body obviously being the one that actually hit the ground. glass was scattered around you two as lute got up and pointed her spear at you.

“pathetic” she said moving the spear to your neck as you were laying on the ground. you grunted, your wings flapping against the roof. she chuckled. “i can’t believe you were one of us. you’re even worse than sinners now” she continued making the spear slit your throat so blood started to run down it. “can’t even protect herself and trying to be a hero for this stupid hotel” she shook her head and took the spear away. “i’ll make you fucking regret it” she added through clenched teeth and before you could react she grabbed your shoulders again pushing you onto the window, making it break and making you fall down into the hotel. the whole scene looked rather poetic, but you weren’t in a state to notice that.

when your body hit the ground again, this time the ground being the hotel’s hall lute flew straight in through the window she just broke with your body. noticing her your grabbed your throat with one hand and get up by the bar’s counter so you were standing up again. lute landed right before you, haterance filling her eyes.

“i’m better than any of you” you said holding your throat still so you wouldn’t bleed out. lute laughed loudly and pushed her spear into the ground.

“don’t be ridiculous” she said walking over to you and pushing you onto the counter of the bar you used to stable yourself. “we are doing the god’s work, making hell’s population bearable and you think you are better?” she asked pushing your hand away and squishing your throat with both of her hands. you wondered for a second if she was trying to keep you alive or make you bleed more by doing so. “you were an honour to have in our ranks. and you became this?” she asked taking her hands away and making your throat bleed more than before. you knew now. “pathetic is too soft of a word” she scoffed and walked over to her spear again. you tried getting up but the amount of blood you lost made your body too weak while also causing white spots to appear on your vision.

“what a bitch!” yelled velvette watching the whole fight with vox and valentino. her hands gripped the phone she was watching it on almost breaking it in half.

“calm down velvette,-“ vox started saying but velvette send him a murder glare at which he rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut.

“i’m going to fucking kill any angel i see in my way!” she yelled again throwing the phone into the couch and hiding her face inside her hands. both vox and valentino shared a glare of confusion and surprise.

“babydoll,” valentino started and sit down next to her on the couch purring one of his hands on her shoulder looking at vox still confused if what he’s doing is what he should be doing. “i’m pretty sure she’s going to be okay” he added and stroked her shoulder gently looking down at her hidden face. “you know her, you know how feisty she is” he said with a small chuckle at the end but when he heard velvette’s small sob his smile immediately dropped.

“i don’t want to loose her” she whispered hiding her face even more in her hands. valentino looked at vox again yet this time he was fully concentrated at the fight that was playing at their tv. valentino rolled his eyes and took velvette on his lap.

“doll” he said taking her hands away from her face noticing her smudged eyeliner. “she’s gonna be okay for sure” he said wiping her tears and flowing down make up. “she knows she has to hold on, she has someone to do it for, tesoro” he said with another small chuckle making velvette stop crying.

“i just…” she groaned and got up from his lap walking in a small circle thinking about her next words. “she should’ve been here with us. not there fighting” she said scoffing and wiping her own face. valentino got more comfortable on the couch while watching her and took a drag from his cigarette.

“she’s too stubborn for that. from all your stories about her, she wouldn’t bare watching her friends dying for her not to die with them” he said and shrugged velvette killing him with her eyes. “i’m not saying they’ll die, it was just a metaphor” he rolled his eyes taking another drag. velvette scoffed and grabbed her phone, walking to her room and shutting the door behind her.

lute grabbed her spear again and walked over to you grabbing you by the hair and pushing you off the counter, making you hit the ground once again. you groaned but couldn’t do anything about it as she just simply laughed at you. she let go of your hair and pushed the spear into one of your wings making you scream in pain as your hands tried gripping your throat to stop it from bleeding out. lute smirked maniacally and moved the spear around in your wing, making a lot of your feathers become yellow from your blood. you tried pushing her away with your other wing but she simply grabbed it in her other hand and held in place. lute moved her spear more cutting your wing almost fully from your body and enjoying the sound of your screams as she watched the whole thing. she licked her lips and made the last cut on your wing making it barely handing onto your back she smirked and chuckled at you. “now at lest you look similar to your personality. ruined” she huffed and grabbed her spear taking it away from your wing and flying up leaving you all alone in the ruined hotel’s hall. you wanted to get up, chase her make her regret it all but you weren’t able to. the only thing you could do was close your eyes and pray for someone to help you or for a quick second death to come.

the first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was the amount of the color pink around you. you wanted to sit up but the immaculate pain going through your body made it unable to do so. you just laid there and looked around noticing you were laying in velvette’s bed, in her room. you thoughts were interrupted by the door swinging open.

“oh dear, you’re awake!” exclaimed velvette walking into the room and rushing to your side. “i’m so glad you’re okay” she said looking at you with worry in her eyes. you looked back at her confusion on your face as you tried to sit up again but the pain stopped you once again. you whined in pain and velvette’s eyes got even more soft.

“what happened?” you asked your voice a lot more husky than normally. velvette sighed softly taking one of your hands into her.

“i…” she started but stopped immediately trying to stop the tears coming into her eyes. “you fought the angels” she explained and sighed once again looking at your whole silhouette.

“did we loose?” you asked interrupting her looking scared at her. she chuckled softly at your reaction and sighed once again stroking your hand gently.

“quite the opposite, darling” she said and looked at you with a sad smile. “you won, but at what cost” she added and looked away from you trying so hard not to cry. velvette gripped your hand with hers and took a deep breath.

“at what cost? what you mean? did someone die? how did i even got here?” you asked all at once being more and more confused with every second passing. velvette chuckled dryly at your words and shook her head a bit.

“i… after the battle was done, i rushed to the hotel for you and… did everything in my power to escort you here with less damage i could” she explained and tears started to fill her eyes fully this time, she looked away from you gripping your hand with hers once again. “i’m so, so sorry” she said letting out a sob from her mouth.

you looked at her confused and scared again, not understanding why she was apologising as your eyes slowly went from her face to your interlocked hands and then your bandaged back. your eyes widened a bit and then the pain you felt finally placed itself in your back. you looked terrified at the bandages trying to move your ‘wings’ around brining yourself even more pain as only one of them flattered around a bit.

“i’m so fucking sorry, darling” said velvette seeing the information getting to you. “i- i literally tried everything but… i couldn’t do much more to keep both of your wings connected to your body” she explained and started sobbing more, moving herself closer to you, leaning her forehead against your shoulder. “i’m so so so fucking sorry” she sobbed even more, wetting your bandaged shoulder. you felt tears coming into your eyes as well as you closed them shut and felt your breathing becoming faster and shorter.

“i’ve-“ you started but a sob interrupted you as velvette moved away from your shoulder. “i’ve lost my wing?!” you asked in a whine looking at her terrified and full of hate, not for her of course, but for everything else. you sat up slowly, not giving a single thought to the pain you were feeling.

“doll, i’m-“ velvette started and moved her head so her forehead was connected with yours, her eyes closed. “i’m… i’m gonna kill that bitch if i ever see her” she said and gritted her teeth sighing deeply, tears still strimming down her face.

you let out another whine, moving your head away from hers as you looked at your bandaged back. you moved your resting wing flattering it, not even caring about the pain as the adrenaline of loosing something so important got to you. you tried flying up a bit, obviously not being able to as another whine left your mouth alongside with many sobs. “how could she?!” you yelled, tears falling down your cheeks as your voice could probably be heard on the streets in the pentragram city.

velvette sobbed with you, moving even closer so she was now laying down with you on the bed trying to cling up to you while causing you as little pain as she could. “i’m so, so, so, so, so, sorry- literally, so sorry-“ she started repeating herself crying even more, as she was now cuddled up to you.

you continued screaming in pain and haterance as your remaining wing moved in place, adjusting to the emotions you were feeling. you wanted to scream and shout and just break anything that would stand in your way, but the worst part was that you even couldn’t do that. the battle exhausted you and that lost wing definitely didn’t help the case. you tried to control your breathing, trying not to hyperventilate as you utter a soft whisper. “it’s not your fault, velvette”

velvette grabbed both of your hands with one of her again, as her other one grabbed your cheek softly and started stroking it, her crying didn’t stop as well. “i’ll make her regret it” she said in between sobs looking you deep into eyes, making sure you understood the meaning of her words. your breathing calmed down a bit after a moment as you just started into her eyes. you let out w deep sigh still feeling like you might just break down any second now. she kept on stroking your cheek not taking her eyes away from yours. you closed your eyes finally, cuddling up into her hand more looking for any comfort. she smiled sadly at your and closed her eyes as well enjoying the sudden comfort between the two of you.

“you won’t take that pleasure away from me” you said and opened your eyes looking at her face, the corners of your lips going just so slightly up. velvette opened her eyes as well looking a bit out of place at the sudden sound of you voice but as soon as she understood what you said she smiled as best as she could at you.

“that bitch won’t even know what got her” she said and chuckled dryly, her fingers still stroking your cheek. you let out a deep sigh at her words and looked sadly into her eyes again. velvette sighed as well, just starring into your eyes. “you’re the most important to me in the whole hell, or world” she said suddenly, her voice a bit louder than a whisper. your eyes widened at her sudden confession but that didn’t stop your cheeks from blushing just a bit. you slowly moved your remaining wing, wrapping it around the two of you in a some sort of hug as velvette kept on touching your face.

“and to me, the world doesn’t exist without you-” you said as velvette tilted her head slightly. “-cause you are my world” you finished your sentence and velvette looked away from your face, feeling her cheeks reddening up as she gently grabbed the wing wrapped around her and put it onto her face not wanting you to see her blushing. you chuckled despite feeling the tears still on your cheeks, as you moved the wing away from her face not letting her hide anymore. she still didn’t look at you as you could easily notice the reddish color on her face. you moved your hand to her face this time, brining her closer to you once again, resting your forehead against hers.

velvette moved her head up slightly, so that your lips would touch but not just fully connect yet. she smiled to you, feeling the salty taste at your lips from previous tears as she moved her head once again, this time connecting both of your lips in a sweet and probably the most gentle kiss, the two of you have ever shared.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #velvette angst #hazbin velvette #hazbin velvette x reader #hazbin hotel velvette x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n #camilaanswersasks #credit to dividers artist

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cinnnamongrl · 10 months

Text

sorority secrets- ellie williams (part 5- final part)

pairing: college!ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: final part of this fic. you can find part 4 here.

warnings: [18+ MDNI] explicit language, top!ellie, bottom!reader, fingering, oral sex, strap-on sex (all r!receiving), ellie refers to the strap as her dick 💯, praise. i think that’s it!

author’s note: final part! here she is! i’ve had so much fun writing this series, hope u enjoy <3

a relaxed comfortable silence clouded over the eta house living room. for everyone else at least. for you and ellie the silence was full of tension, regret, and apologies that sat on the tongue but were stopped by your egos. you felt bad for leaving her dorm after yesterdays fight. ellie felt bad for letting you leave. avoiding each other wasn’t an option when you were in a sorority together, but part of you was glad you were being forced to see ellie despite how awkward you felt.

“EW” madison’s voice broke the peaceful quiet of the living room. “what?!” chloe asked. “i just tried that old person filter on tiktok and i look BUSTED” a few girls moved over to look at madison’s phone and laughed, moving their heads to the middle of the screen so the filter could take effect. you watched on from the sofa, knees brought up to your chest. ellie was watching you; she was frustrated, less at the situation now and more at not being able to sit next to you and put her arms around you. it was an extra blow that just as everyone found out about you, you couldn’t touch or kiss anymore anyway.

“ellie, you try!” emilia took madison’s phone and hopped over to ellie, sitting down next to her to show her the filter on herself. ellie gave a dry laugh and emilia giggled, screenshooting the screen, “that’s what you’ll look like when you’re 60!” chloe got up and took the phone from emilia and showed the screenshot to you “are you still gonna be into her when she looks like this?” she joked. you exhaled in an awkward attempt at a laugh, not really knowing what to say with ellie looking right at you. you noticed emilia rolling her eyes. chloe took the phone from your face, “oh- are you guys not cool anymore?” you looked at ellie who was looking down at her lap. “oh we thought cause you kissed you were like, dating or whatever” madison spoke. “did you break up because of the campus news thi-“ “guys can we change the subject-“ emilia interrupted, “-i’m sure they don’t want everyone going on about some stupid kiss in an alleyway!”

a moment passed.

“an alleyway?” chloe asked. ellie’s head shot up. then yours. you stated at each other. a million words passing between you but none actually spoken. “how do you know it was in an alleyway?” chloe elaborated. you didn’t miss the way emilia’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “it’s- uh- i’m just guessing!” she stumbled. brittney watched the way you and ellie stared in shock at each other and she stood from the sofa. “everybody out.” all the girls looked towards her. “i’m serious everyone out, i have stuff to do.” everyone got up to walk away, emilia grabbing her bag and making a quick walk towards the door. “except emilia.” brittney spoke. “i need your help with something.” emilia stopped in her tracks and turned back around, looking extremely uncomfortable. your brain was barely processing what was happening as you walked out of the eta house. ellie was right behind you and she put a hand on your back as you stepped away from the house, “hey, are you okay?” you looked at her and blinked a few times. “yeah… i think so? just in shock.” ellie nodded, “do you want to come back to my dorm? you can say no i understand if-“ “yes please.” neither of you said a word on your way to her dorm. as you sat on her bed with crossed legs, she had placed herself sitting by you, back leaning against the wall against her bed.

“so emilia huh?” ellie broke the silence. “yeah, but… why?” you twisted your body towards her. “beats me” ellie replied. “but uh, hey at least you know who to go to to try and get it removed” she added. all the regret from yesterday paired with the craziness of what just went down at the eta house was feeding you the courage to put all the complicated shit aside and just do something for yourself. “i don’t want to get it removed.” ellie frowned at you, “what do you mean?” you shuffled closer to her, sitting on your legs “i don’t care about the feature. i was being stupid and scared but i’m not gonna be stupid and scared anymore. i’m sorry. i’ll email it to my parents if you want, honestly-“ ellie laughed and put both hands on your upper arms shushed you, “shh baby, it’s ok. i don’t need you to email it to your parents. it was never about that-“ you were breathing heavily from your outburst, listening to her talk “-i just wanted to know you really liked me. and were… serious about things. ‘cause i’m obsessed with you.” she finished. a small laugh bubbled from your chest and your eyes started to water, all the emotion from the past few days catching up on you.

“i do really like you els. i’m sorry for caring so much about what my parents think and about the campus news feature, i just...” a tear rolled down your cheek and ellie moved closer to wrap her arms her arms around you “‘s ok, angel. i’m sorry i was being pushy; i know your parents put a lot of pressure on you and i don’t want to make you feel rushed to come out or anything like that. you need to go at your own pace” she spoke softly as she held your head in her neck, fingers stroking the skin there. “but we really should get that feature taken down, that photo did not get my best side at all,”. you giggled into her neck. “plus… the title was all wrong. you’re not chad’s girl,” she smirked, “you’re mine.” you lifted you head to look at her, “right?” your cheeks were warm and there was a little smile on your lips as you nodded. “‘m your girl.” she smiled at you “my pretty girl.” and she kissed you. you melted into her, body relaxing completely before being suddenly jolted from a loud bang at her door. “i swear to god we are uhauling and getting a house far away where no one can interrupt us kissing anymore” ellie sighed before getting up and opening the door.

brittney stood, hand on hip, usual face of displeasure as she glided into the room “i should be getting a fucking salary for this job” she chucked her bag on the floor “mom never told me that having to kick girls out of the sorority because of batshit crazy lesbian drama was part of the job description of eta president but here we are.” she crossed her arms. you tried to hide a laugh. “you kicked her from eta?” ellie asked. “yeah she’s a freak.” brittney clarified, waving a hand in dismissal. “so uh… why did she do it?” you tried. “ugh. she’s like, in love with ellie or some shit.” your mouth fell open in shock “yeah i don’t get it either” brittney said, straight faced. ellie snorted, “sorry, she’s what?”. brittney huffed “she said she only did it because she was into you and that you,” she looked at you, “were stealing her away and would be much better suited to chad anyway” your mouth was still dropped “that is.. actually deranged” “yeah i know right. all that over ellie”. ellie ran a hand over her face, trying to process everything brittney was saying, as were you. “i was suspicious of her for a while. i mean who cares that much about setting someone up with a guy. and chad as well,” she pulled a face, “-i’d rather watch fucking paint dry”. you were running through all your interactions with emilia, everything piecing together. ellie was thinking about brittney; amused that despite the subtle insults towards her that she threw in every sentence, she wasn’t doing well to hide that she actually cared about her in some form. she was always grateful when she’d drag emilia away when she interrupted you two but now it was in a completely different context; it was for ellie’s sake not her own. she couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at this newfound discovery of brittney being a decent sister. brittney’s head snapped to ellie “what?”. “you care about me”, ellie chuckled. “oh shut up. i just wanted an excuse to kick emilia out, she was annoying me anyway. like who the fuck still sends snapchat streaks in 2023. anyway, i’m needed elsewhere. bye losers” she picked her bag back up and left. despite defending herself against the horrors of being nice, after years of living with brittney, ellie knew she wouldn’t have kicked her best friend out of eta for nothing. ellie had a silent moment of collecting her thoughts after the quiet of the room resumed after brittney’s exit.

you let out a big sigh from ellie’s bed and she turned her head towards you. “crazy day, huh?” you spoke. ellie chuckled and sat herself next to you. “yeah,” she huffed, “i’m still annoyed at brittney though.” you frowned a little, and rested your hand on top of hers “why?” “because she interrupted our big dramatic make-up kiss”. you laughed and shuffled back a little onto her bed crossed legged facing towards her “an unforgivable crime”. ellie turned her body to face you “well that moment’s gone so i’ll have to find another excuse to kiss you”. you looked to the side “hm how’s ‘we haven’t kissed in over 24 hours and i’m getting serious withdrawal symptoms’ for an excuse?” she grinned at you, “perfect”, she leaned towards you and connected her lips to yours, one hand gently holding your face. you sighed into the kiss and she deepened it, letting her tongue find yours. you repositioned yourself so that your legs were flat and she took advantage of your position by slotting a leg in between yours and pushing you down onto her bed gently, mouth not leaving yours. one of her hands stayed on your face and the other travelled down your side slowly, from your ribs down to your thigh, past your skirt. need was building with every second longer she kissed you and ellie was trying to take things slow and not rush despite having you pressed against her bed like she’d pictured since the first time you sat there with shy hands shuffling around. it had been even worse since the sleepover, spending nearly every night since then with her hand down her boxers thinking about your mouth hung in pleasure and the pretty little sounds you made.

a little squeak came from your mouth and ellie discovered she’d pressed her thigh perfectly against your cunt without even realising. now that she knew, she was absolutely going to use your reaction as an indication to carry on. she adjusted her leg and it pressed perfectly into your clit again, tearing a small sound from you, making your face hot from exposing how worked up you were already. ellie chuckled slightly “needy thing” you pouted at her tease and she smiled down at you “‘s ok. that feel nice?” you nodded and she copied it, hit of mocking there, “aw. you want more?” you nodded again and she tutted “need you to use your words, sweet girl” you twisted your mouth to the side and chewed on your bottom lip, embarrassment prickling at you, “want more, ellie” “what do you want, baby?” you huffed lightly, “jus- want you to touch me”. she attached her mouth to yours again and your eyes fluttered shut again, all thoughts lost when she was kissing you.

she let a ‘mm’ sound into your mouth as she reluctantly left your lips “where?” she wasn’t ready to give up the pleasure she was getting from making you flustered trying to vocalise your neediness. “want your fingers again li- like last time.” ellie smirked and let her hand travel to your inner thigh, stroking your soft skin under your skirt. “yeah? you want me here?” as the last word left her mouth she cupped your pussy through your panties and you jolted at the pressure against your clit. a strangled “yes” left your lips. she pecked your lips “good girl” and her hands travelled up to the hem of your top and she held the bottom of your top with two fingers as her thumbs stroked your stomach there, “can i take this off?” she whispered. you nodded and she bunched the material up, when it moved past your tits she let go and a groan you could’ve easily missed was caught in her throat. she brought her hands up and cupped them, staring at your tits like you weren’t watching her. seconds later she was dipping her head to attach her mouth to your left tit, fingers rolling over the nipple on your other. you let out the quietest little whimper and ellie felt like her eyes might roll back just from hearing it “so sensitive all over” she admired, before bringing her mouth to your other tit, swirling her tongue around your nipple and sucking, bringing another little whimper from you. ellie was already getting desperate; fighting down the urge to pull out her strap from its place under her bed and make you take it right now. but she was willing to be patient and she was equally as desperate to keep you here for the whole day and night if it meant getting to see you like this for hours more.

her hand finally made its way back under your skirt and she hooked a finger under the elastic of your panties and inched them down your thighs slowly. when they reached your ankles the realisation that you were completely exposed dawned on you, no panties and top bunched up over your tits, ellie not even having bothered to take it off in the end. you made a move to close your legs together and she held your thighs with both hands, forcing them back open and looking at you with blown out pupils “need to taste you. please?” her desperation causing her dominant act to slip a little. “ok” your voice small. a half-second later she had shuffled herself down your body, face lined up with your cunt, skirt flipped up onto your tummy. “god.” she mumbled as if to herself. “you’re pretty everywhere.” your face went hot and you fought against the urge to close your thighs again in embarrassment. she dipped down and licked a stripe up your pussy, collecting your wetness with her tongue and her strangled moan vibrated against your cunt. as she closed her mouth around your clit, your hips lifted, chasing more pressure, strain of little whines leaving your mouth. ellie gripped your hips and pressed you back down as she sucked on your clit, ripping a loud moan from you. she was almost feral; lapping you up like a woman starved and working her mouth on you with an eagerness that didn’t compromise her skills. your mind went cloudy at the pleasure and you hadn’t even realised her finger had been circling your hole until it dipped into you slowly, only a little way inside you.

ellie had this way of consuming you fully whenever she was with you; all your mind could focus on was her, and right now, how she was making you feel. more specifically the beautiful pleasure of her mouth working on your clit combined with the aching feeling of her finger teasing your entrance, there but not fully there. “please” is all you managed, voice shaky. ellie debated taking her mouth from you to force you to ask for what you wanted properly, but she was drunk on you; the feeling of you in her mouth, your taste, smell, sounds, so she let you have it. she pushed in deeper, curling her finger and reaching that perfect spot inside you. your back arched and she gripped you tighter, keeping you in place as she continued her movements.

it wasn’t long before you could feel yourself getting close; it was obvious to ellie from the way your body tensed and breathing got more erratic. “ellie-mmh” your hands gripped the sheets beneath you and ellie groaned into your cunt in response, pushing you to that final peak, loud moan leaving your mouth as your body shook slightly.

your breathing slowed and body relaxed as you came down from your high. with your eyes still shut your hand reached out to ellie “els?”. she kissed you sloppily, your juices on her tongue mixing with your saliva intensifying the pumping in her clit. she couldn’t help but grind down on your thigh a little as she kissed you. “els- wanna touch you.” she looked down at you, and then placed little kisses over your face and neck “mm kiss not as much kiss as i want to kiss touch you” you let out a short breath, “but- wanna make you feel good too” you pouted slightly. she moved her head to look directly at you again. “you wanna make me feel good?”. you nodded your head eagerly. “then let me fuck you.”

you blinked a few times “you- you just did?”. she chuckled and pecked your lips before getting up from the bed and kneeling to reach for a box that was packed underneath it. as she located the box and held it in her hands a flicker of doubt went through her suddenly; what if this was too quick? what if it scared you off? what if you didn’t wan- her sudden flood of doubtful thoughts meant that she missed you crawling over to lay on your tummy on the bed in front of where she kneeled and lift open the box in her hands, snapping out of it when a tiny sound could be heard from your throat. her eyes snapped up to you and her doubts were promptly washed away when she saw the way you were looking down at her strap sitting idly in the box. your cheeks were warm and your tummy was doing flips but even your shyness couldn’t cover up the lustful look you carried in your eyes. “you want it?” ellie asked, voice dark. “mhm” you murmured. “lay back down for me then, angel”. you obeyed, laying back down, head on her pillow as she stripped off her pants and adjusted her strap over her boxers. she got back up on the bed and rested two arms beside you as she leaned over you,

“you can change your mind if you want. i don’t want to rush you into anyth-“ you pulled her body down to yours “i want it, ellie”. she smirked at you, “yeah?” “mm. i need it. need you inside”. ellie’s brain short circuited for a moment at your words before she grabbed the length of her fake dick and lined it up with your cunt. “tell me how badly you need it.” she practically begged as she stroked the tip up and down your folds, not missing the way your body would jerk every so slightly when she’d let it nudge against your clit. “so badly. needed it for so long”. she pushed into you slightly and you gasped, mouth open and eyes big and glossy. you wanted more so you pushed your hips down a little in an attempt to take her in further. ellie kissed the corner of your mouth before slowly pushing all the way in, filling you completely, forcing a whine from you. “me too, pretty girl. wanted you like this since the first time i saw you.” your eyes watered slightly from the stretch and your tummy fluttered with pleasure. “‘m gonna move ok?” she warned and you nodded, “please”. she started to thrust into you slowly and your head fell back further into the pillow. she continued her strokes, your walls tight around her “good girl, taking me so well” she praised and you whimpered in response.

your body and mind was filled completely with the feeling of ellie’s plastic cock deep inside you and her weight on top of you. you could tell she was being gentle for you, but your body was chasing the euphoria, desperate for whatever she could give you. “faster-“ you whined “please”. how could she say no when you looked so pretty and desperate? she picked up her pace, fucking into you quicker and harder now your body had adjusted to the size. ellie’s own arousal was reaching even higher, the harness rubbing against her clit perfectly as she fucked you. she watched you with admiration almost, your pupils blown and staring doe-eyed up at her, pretty mouth parted and tits rising up and down with each thrust. “you’re so pretty like this-“ she uttered, voice a little strained “-my perfect girl”.

“ellie” you whined and lifted your hands to her face, pouting to communicate what you wanted. she leaned down to kiss you, wet and hot and messy while her strap was repeatedly hitting the perfect spot inside you. as she pulled away she placed both hands on your hips so she could keep your body still as she fucked into you deep as possible. you cried out at the feeling, any consideration for ellie’s neighbours a forgotten thought to your fucked out brain. she lifted a hand from your hip and placed it on the side of your face, thumb ghosting over your lips before pushing past them into your mouth. “suck”. you did, swirling her thumb around in your mouth, a gentle hum coming from your throat. she took it out of your mouth and moved her hand down to where your bodies met, pressing her thumb against your clit. she started to rub little circles, flooding your body with even more bliss. soft strangled moans moved past your lips.

“i know baby. you like when i rub your little clit while i fuck you?”. you were completely gone, coil in your stomach tightening and head completely fuzzy. so much so you didn’t even realise ellie’s own climax was fast approaching, the friction against her clit and the way you looked underneath her was making her quickly fall apart. “g’nna make me fuc- fucking cum” she choked out. you hadn’t even realised that was possible but you knew it made your own release start to creep up on you even more rapidly “please, wanna come with you” you babbled. she was chasing her own high but still keeping the perfect rhythm for you. “you wanna come, yeah? show me baby, come all over my dick.” your body started to stiffen as all the pleasure you were feeling reached it’s peak. “that’s my good girl, coming for me so well” she rambled as she watched you fall apart. half a second later her own orgasm hit her and a string of praises, curses and your name left her mouth in a jumble. you watched, brain not fully functioning still but enough to appreciate the beauty of the sight above you, ellie coming apart completely with her face screwed up in pleasure and your name on her tongue.

your next coherent thought came when she was already laying beside you, both of your heavy breaths the only sound that could be heard, a harsh contrast to the obscene mix of noises and words bouncing around her room only a few seconds ago. she draped her arm over your stomach and nuzzled into you a little. you giggled and moved into her closer.

“i’m obsessed with you too, you know” you spoke. “i can tell” she joked and you nudged her arm off of you playfully. she laughed, “kidding, baby. i’m glad. cause you’re not escaping from me now. never” you smiled at her possessiveness, it was a joke but you knew it rang true. “‘s ok with me” you replied. ellie adjusted herself to sit up slightly, “you should go pee.” you nodded smiling, appreciating her taking care of you and got up to use her bathroom. when you came back she was tucked up in bed, covers pulled up high, little smile on her face. “come back here, i have something for us.” you raised an eyebrow and hesitantly crawled back into her bed. she yanked her hands from under the sheets and you saw her hands holding two capri-suns. you burst out laughing and grabbed one. “i see” your voice bubbling with amusement. “gotta get your energy back up somehow, babe” ellie told you. “are capri-suns good sources of energy?” you pondered. “i dunno, you bought them” she joked.

you laid for a while, capri-suns in hand and voices chatting consistently about nothing. possibly an odd scene to any on-looker but both you and ellie were exactly where you wanted to be. all the little issues from the past few hours, days, weeks were completely insignificant in the moments you shared alone; you were peacefully content and basking in the high from each others company.

and stupidly obsessed with each other.

tag list @ximtiredx @gold-dustwomxn @nil-eena @alexpritch @robinismywifee @sc0ttstre3ted @ilovemoneymorethenmen @amberlynn28 @eyeluvangel @amitycat @callmelola111 @endureher @villainousbear @lazyotakuofficial @rolly-pollie @emiiiiiiiiiiiie @sophlovesbooks @lveunoialv @spaceshipellie @rqmantics

#ellie tlou 2 #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x reader

731 notes · View notes

thinkingaboutjaedyn · 1 month

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stupid lil headcanons about mapi

author notes: i'm pushing out more of these dumb posts than fics but i swear fics are coming 🙏🏾 just let my mind work it's magic y'all. anyways stupid headcanons about mapi that hold no value, enjoy!

➜ mapi probably asks ingrid to talk to the waitress when she receives the wrong order. it's not really that she's scared to say something, it's just mapi doesn't want to say anything herself

➜ she probably sends ingrid stupid memes in spanish about the most irrelevant things that ingrid is always like "wtf? where did you get these from?" (she got them from twitter)

➜ doesn't care for tiktok that much but sometimes someone sends her an edit off of that app and she giggles

➜ this woman be low-key confused when the barca coach talks about the team's game plan. afterwards she always asks alexia to explain to her in simple terms

➜ we all know she had that emo phase. during that phase she still listened to a lot of spanish music (she couldn't get with the actual emo music) and used tumblr like it was god sent

➜ mapi be giggling and kicking her legs while stalking ingrid's instagram during international break. she has like a thousand photos of ingrid in her gallery, but the instagram posts just hit different

➜ double texts everything. never writes in paragraphs and she probably have many typos in her texts because she be typing at the speed of light

➜ mapi's favorite type of kisses are cheek kisses because she finds them really cute

➜ if the word clingy had a picture in the dictionary, mapi would be the photo. this woman is attached to ingrid so bad and just likes hanging off of her. half of the time she just annoys ingrid but refuses to move away when her when ingrid tells her off

➜ clumsy at the worse moments. could be holding a plate full of food and mapi is going to slip on thin air

➜ likes piggy back rides especially from ingrid

➜ mapi is the biggest cryer when it comes to movies. it could be the happiest movie ever but let one sad thing happen and she's bawling

➜ begs ingrid to do her hair in silly lil hairstyles and always talks cute selfies after

➜ a cuddle bug. not just with ingrid but also her cat

➜ mapi shall not be trusted with knives or any sharp objects, she always end up cutting herself. ingrid has to comfort her afterwards

➜ is so annoying to play against in a fifa game. she will do anything in her power to make you lose (pushing, saying the most out of pocket stuff, screaming at the top of her lungs, anything to her opponent to lose the game)

➜ dyes her hair when stressed (but don't tell anybody that)

➜ either a fun drunk or a sad drunk. depends on the day and if ingrid is around

➜ she randomly flexes in front of ingrid to try to impress her (ingrid doesn't give a fuck but gives many compliments)

➜ speaking of impressing ingrid, this woman will stop a car with her bare hands just to have ingrid give her a compliment. what can be said? #girlfriendvalidationisthebest

➜ 100% is a pouter, a whiner, a "but babeee:("

➜ the type to get a tattoo for her girlfriend and not even tell anyone until someone just notices

➜ mapi is surprisedly flexible, don't ask how she figured that out

➜ follows ingrid around like a lost puppy. she just loves her girl so bad

➜ her favorite season is summer and her favorite thing to do during summer is to go to the beach. for one, she loves to be in the water and for two, she gets to see ingrid in a bikini. a win is a win

➜ says the most random shit that pops up in her mind like "do you think dinosaurs are related to chickens? and if they are related to chickens then when someone eats chicken, are they eating dinosaur meat?" and ingrid would just be like "please just eat your food"

➜ not the best dancer in the world but no body can tell her that

➜ mapi sometimes just gets baby fever and pesters ingrid before forgetting about it then she sees a baby & the process happens all over again

➜ overall mapi is just so silly 😝

#barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #mapi leon #mapi leon x ingrid engen

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carmyboobear · 25 days

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ALEXITHYMIA CH 5: detergent, thrifting, and cake

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Chapter Rating: T (11k)

ao3 link, ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4

Chapter Summary: It’s his roommate’s birthday this week, and Carmy doesn’t find out until it’s a couple days away. Once he finds they’re unluckily spending their birthday alone, he makes it his mission to make their lonely day better. It’s the least he can do. Little does he know how much more he has to discover about them and about himself.

Tags: reader having trauma, carmy having trauma, toxic families, domesticity

A/N: It’s time… it’s time. I said last chapter was the longest…just kidding. THIS ONE is the longest, and it was hardest to write so far. The duo gets to have a lot of fun this chapter, though! arguably the most so far! A lot of domestic goodness and good food and shopping! Until… :)

also HUGE shoutout to @justaconsequence on tumblr for being my beta reader for this chapter! she was so kind and so helpful. this behemoth of a fic is too much for me to proofread on my own. anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy! can't wait to hear what y'all think!

Typically, by this time on Monday morning, Carmy's usually three cigarettes deep into paperwork, urgently (and poorly) calculating the sales the restaurant needs to make this week to stay afloat. Because even though it's a Sunday closing activity, he never seems to find the occasion to get around to it, and by 10 pm, he doesn't have the capacity to be crunching numbers.

Not that 8 am is much better. At least he's not dissecting the debt this morning—he's studying detergent prices.

“Why is this one, like, almost 20 dollars?” Carmy stops reading the price tags and glances over at his roommate, who's squinting at products on upper shelves. The lights are always too bright in this place. “And for such a small bottle…”

“Pre-mixed organic sulfate-free 100% vegan bleach,” Carmy reads dully.

“So stupid.” They shake their head. “Does grocery shopping ever depress you?”

“Usually,” he replies dryly. “Inflation is pretty depressing.”

“Don’t even get me started. Capitalism in general depresses me.”

“Hm, yeah. That too.” He sighs through his nose and tries to refocus. He's having a hard time processing all the numbers and letters today. “You see any unscented detergent? Somethin’ mild?”

“Um…” They crane their neck up and down, and then they crouch on the ground. They pick up a white bottle. “How's this? It's like, 8 dollars. It's not name-brand, but…”

“You know I don't care.” He kneels with them, huddling in close. They smell faintly of a sweet, yet musky perfume. He reminds himself to focus on the detergent, not the way they smell (even if it's far more interesting). “Yeah, this looks good. Thank you.”

“For your vintage denim, right?” They stand up to put the detergent in their shopping cart, which is barely separated with his stuff vs. theirs. He doesn't understand why his face grows warm at their comment, but it does.

“Uh, yeah. It is.” If the blush shows on his face, they graciously don't comment. “Although I'll admit I don't get around to washing them as much as I should.”

“You're not supposed to wash jeans that often anyway, right?” They lean their elbows onto the rickety cart as they push it, and he ambles along next to them, matching the slow, relaxed pace of their walk.

“Yeah, but I really…” The implications are clear. They fail in suppressing a laugh, and it makes him smile. “And I’m supposed to hand wash them, so.”

“Oh, so what you're saying is that you never wash them,” they tease.

“That is not at all what I'm saying.” They make an unimpressed face. “I do laundry, it's just…”

“Not often,” they supply helpfully. He tries to come up with something, but he's got nothing. “It's okay, I understand.”

“I promise I wash my clothes,” he mumbles, wilting.

“I know.” There's that new smile he's grown to recognize more clearly. It's this mischievous one they get when they’re teasing him, and it's so cute he doesn't have any room in him to get even a little irritable. “I've seen you do laundry maybe once or twice.”

“Hey,” he says, warning, and they laugh and run ahead of him, the squeaky wheels of the cart giggling alongside them.

After the night he almost burned down their apartment, he had felt different. It was like a switch being flipped, light abruptly filling up a dark room, and he's been squinting, struggling to adjust. But as he walks with them today, grocery shopping lit by blinding white fluorescents, he finds that he can see them rather clearly.

The connection between the two of them is tangible, palpable. It's workable pasta dough that's been kneaded to uniformity. The dough is malleable, clean, and when he touches it, sticky, glutenous residue doesn't cover his palms. When he catches at them peeking over their shoulder to make sure he's still following them, he chases away the urge to pull them into his arms. He throws the desire into boiling water in hopes that enough pressure will change those feelings into something more palatable. He's not sure if it's working.

Something happened when he hugged them that Saturday night. He doesn't dare name what that “something” is, but it's rising from where it's sitting at the bottom of the pot, just about to hit the surface—

“Hey, I gotta get some stuff in this aisle.” Carmy snaps out of it and follows them as they veer the cart to the left. He raises his eyes to read the categories on the sign.

“You bakin’ somethin’?” They both move out of the way for an oncoming cart.

“Yeah, was thinking about it.” They halt to a stop in front of the boxed cake mix and step back to fully peruse the shelves. He stands next to them, and they glance at him out of the corner of their eye. “You’re not judging me for getting box mix, are you?”

“Not at all,” he answers honestly. “Food is always better when made from scratch, but box mix has its uses. Besides, I’m not a baker.”

“That’s true, but I’m sure you still make an insane cake.” Carmy’s aware he can’t make them unsee his flash of a smile, but he still shrugs. “Sure, stay humble.”

“I try. What’s the occasion?”

“Ah, nothing much. It’s just my birthday.”

“Oh, okay.”

…And he's about to move on, just as casually as it came, but then the processing finishes.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” They ask confusedly.

“Is it your birthday today?”

“No, um, it’s this Thursday.” He exhales in palpable relief.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hates at how worked up he sounds.

“Um…” Their face is twinged with guilt. “...There was never a good time to bring it up?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting upset.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I just feel like I should’ve known, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. I never brought it up. Um…” Their hands are fiddling with the edges of their sleeves. “I just have complicated feelings about my birthday.”

“Ah, I see. I get that.” That, he can understand. “Is it all the gifts and stuff?”

“Kinda. It’s a part of it.” They lean down to grab a box of devil’s food cake, and that makes him remember that they’re in a grocery store. Not quite the best place for a personal conversation like this. They’re being vague, but he won’t press. Not right now.

“You shouldn’t be baking for yourself on your birthday,” Carmy mutters. They smile at that, but it’s different. It’s heavy with melancholy.

“It’s alright. I’m gonna be celebrating with my friends this weekend, just not on my actual birthday.” His conflicted expression persists. “It’s okay, really. It’s just a day. It’ll be enough of a present to not have to go into work.”

“Put that back,” he blurts out. “I’ll make you a cake.”

“Don’t you work?” Their eyebrows are arched in surprise. “You really don’t—”

“I know I don’t. But I want to. I do work, yeah, but I’ll, I’ll get someone to cover me.” He’s never said those words before in his life, and now that they’re out, he can’t take them back. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t want to take them back. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” they reply quickly.

“Then let me do this. Please.” He has no idea where this courage is coming from. “I want to. I know I'm always working, but I really…” Their eyes are wide with wonder, yet watchful. It shouldn't make him falter, but it does. His heart stutters and whatever bravado briefly gripped him fades away. “I’m…probably being too pushy right now. Tell me to fuck off?”

“I’m not gonna tell you to fuck off for wanting to bake me a cake,” they laugh, easing his worries like they always do. “C’mon, Carm.”

“So, uh, is that a yes, or…?”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not trying to ask you to take off of work for my birthday,” they start carefully, “but I wouldn’t object to it. So, yeah. It’s a yes.”

“Okay.” He can’t help his giddy smile. There's someone saying you look stupid like this, but he’s with them, and it makes everything else silent. “Okay, good.”

“You’re…being super sweet about all this.” He doesn’t understand why—maybe it’s the way they say it—but hearing that makes his neck go hot.

“I mean…friends do stuff like this, don’t they?”

“Only the good ones.” They beam beautifully at him. He hasn’t done anything to warrant their affection, he thinks, but the feeling of their smile is so warm. He can’t resist soaking in it.

He's glad that lady luck blessed him just enough to stop their birthday from passing him by. He's been itching for an opportunity to repay them for all the bullshit they've had to take from him as of recent (although he knows if he brought it up, they would say it wasn't anything worth repaying). They deserve something good from him for once, not panic attacks and nightmares.

He just wishes he could figure out why they were going to spend their birthday alone. He knows them a lot better now, but there's still so much left shrouded. He wants to know them inside and out—he wants to learn what makes them tick, what keeps them up at night, what makes them happy. He wants to know all of it in its entirety, to fill in the gaps in the puzzle he doesn't have the pieces for.

He has some of the pieces. He understands that their relationship with their family to his—distant, strained, and difficult. Unfortunately, that’s about it. He doesn’t know any of the specifics. It’s not like he’s talked to them about his family outside of the off-handed bitter remarks, just as they have, but he finds that this fact leaves him dissatisfied.

He just hopes that they'll let him in. He's not sure if they will, but…he's gonna try. He has to. He's sick of not trying.

. . . . .

“You want to take off?” Richie’s staring at Carmy like he’s grown a second head. They're taking a smoke break in the back. “I don’t know what sort of doppelganger bullshit this is, but if you’re trying to pretend to be Carmen, you’re doing a shit job.”

“Very funny, jackass,” Carmy mutters. “I’m being serious. This Thursday.”

“All day?” Carmy grimaces, but he nods. Richie shakes his head. “You’re being weird. Really fuckin’ weird.”

“I know I shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea, but—”

“Cousin, no, that’s not at all what’s goin’ on here,” Richie interrupts, and Carmy’s at a loss for words. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“What?” Carmy squints at him. “Are you being serious?”

“‘Course I’m serious. I’m always serious.” Carmy decides not to comment on that. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get you off this ship for just one fucking second?”

“As the owner of this place, you’ve tried way too many times,” he replies dryly.

“Uh, as the original co-owner of this place, you don’t listen to me enough.” Again, Carmy decides not to elaborate on that one. It’s not worth it. “Take the day off. I was running it fine before, and I’ll keep running it.”

“No, no, we’re not saying that, it was not fine,” Carmy starts, but Richie’s already flipping him off.

“Whatever, I already know, new fucking system and all that. Don’t get anxiety or whatever over it, that’s why you got Syd hustling shit your way, right?”

“Uh.” Carmy didn’t realize that Richie had even been paying attention to the new hierarchy in the restaurant, let alone respecting it in any capacity. “Yeah, she is.”

“Then it’s fine.” Richie blows smoke in his face, and Carmy swats it away with a glare. “It was fine when you came in an hour late today, wasn’t it?”

“You guys knew I wasn’t gonna come in until later,” Carmy argues, defensive (although he’s not sure if there’s actually anything to argue about).

“Exactly.” Richie sighs all of a sudden, a long one that sounds like it’s bone deep. “Carm. Let me be straight with you. You need to do this. Okay? No backing out of this one.”

“Why’re you sayin’ this? What are you sayin’?”

“It’s ‘cause of your roommate, right? This Thursday?”

“...Yeah.” Carmy pales. “How did you—?”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Richie says, grinning. “It was obvious.”

“No way. I didn’t say shit.”

“You didn’t need to.” Richie flicks the ash off his cigarette. “They’re changin’ you, man. We can all see it.”

“...” Carmy can’t deny that. He doesn't have time to ponder on that right now. “Is it really okay?”

“Yeah, you could stand to have an attitude adjustment.”

“I wasn’t talking about that, asshole. I was talking about Thursday.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, it’s completely fine.” Richie claps a hand on his shoulder, solid in its grip. It makes Carmy’s eyes snap to him, mostly in confusion. “So what’s the occasion? Must be important.”

“It’s their birthday. I mean, I could just go home early that day, but—”

“Yo, if you’re gonna take off, don’t halfass it—”

“That’s not what I was gonna say. When I’m here, I can’t seem to find my way out. This place…it just has a way of trapping you in.” He doesn’t expect Richie to nod, but he does. “I know if I don’t take the whole day off, I’ll never get out of here in time. Not until it’s too late.”

For some reason, that makes Richie laugh.

“Yeah. That's it.” Richie shakes his head as smoke trails out of his mouth. “That’s just it, man. You have to make time for the things that’re important. Even the recitals where you have to listen to five year olds play twinkle twinkle little star 20 times. You can’t miss shit like this. Because once you miss it, it’s gone.”

“Rich.” Carmy wants to say something to make that haunted expression leave Richie's face, but he doesn't come up with anything in time.

“Don’t give me that look.” Richie’s hand falls from his shoulder. “I’m just tryin’ to stop you from fucking shit up. They actually seem like a good person.”

“Y’think so?”

“I do. You?”

“Yeah.” Carmy doesn’t bother hiding his smile, even though he can already sense Richie’s teasing coming from a mile away. “They’re a really good friend.”

“Friend. Sure.” Richie snorts.

“Don’t push it,” and for some reason he adds, “they were gonna spend it alone.”

“Huh. Sociable guy like them spending it alone?”

“I know. I didn't ask. Maybe I should've.”

“Maybe. I dunno, cousin. Everyone's got their secrets. Especially the ones that try to act like they don't have any.”

“You're strangely full of wisdom today.”

“Fuck right off,” Richie responds in regular Richie fashion.

“I think they're like me. Like us.” Carmy's not sure why he's saying this on a Monday afternoon at work out of all times, but the truth bursts out of him beyond his will. Richie's expression shifts into something more solemn, something recognizable. “Y'know what I mean.”

“...Yeah.” Richie claps his hand on Carmy's back again. “Shitty parents club.”

As Carmy stands there in the back, feet sore and tobacco in the air, he sees his childhood in flashes. He's five years old again and is following Mike around with scuffed sneakers and untamed hair, although he supposes that unruliness never truly changed with time. There's warm sunlight filtering through green summer leaves. He hears his mother behind him, somewhere, but maybe he doesn't.

He thinks of home, of his bedroom, and it is cold. He has homework he’s failed to complete again. It's sitting on his desk, on top of all of the other shit he can't finish. There's screaming, and he's not listening.

He blinks. He’s 30, and he hasn’t talked to his mom since Michael died.

“Shitty parents club,” Carmy repeats hollowly.

. . . . .

When Thursday morning arrives, Carmy ends up greeting his roommate with flour in his hair and eggs sizzling on the pan.

“Um,” they say, just as Carmy goes “G'morning.” They both freeze, brief awkwardness circling between them before it dissipates with their breathless laugh.

“Good morning. I didn't think you'd actually take off,” they admit.

“I said I would,” he replies quietly, but it's not accusatory. How many times had he said he'd be home for dinner just for him to arrive when they're already asleep? He tries not to make empty promises anymore. Nonetheless, he understands their surprise. “Um, I'm almost done with breakfast. I didn't get to the coffee yet.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?” They laugh. “That's the least I can do, with you doing all of this.” They sluggishly shuffle behind him to reach down into some kitchen cabinets. “It's a special day, so I'll even make us pour overs.”

“That's true. It is special.” He peeks over his shoulder, pausing from basting the eggs in brown butter to see them setting up on the kitchen island. They gently place the hourglass-shaped glass onto the counter with a light clink. He silently switches the button on for the electric gooseneck kettle to his right. “Am I allowed to wish you a happy birthday, or should I not?”

“Hm, I don't mind. Just don't overdo it, which I doubt you will.” They pull out a bag of coarse ground coffee and a filter. As soon as they open the bag, he can smell the sweet scent of the light roast floating towards him.

“Okay. Then, happy birthday,” he says as casually as he can.

“Thanks, Carmy.” He studies their expression, searching for annoyance in their content expression, but he doesn't find any. “That's not even really what I meant by today being special, though.”

“How else did you mean it?” The eggs are done. He reaches over the hot pan to cut the heat.

“Well, y'know. I dunno if we’ve ever had a full day off together.” They're carefully scooping grounds into the filter fitted on top of the glass, creating a small hill. “I think I managed to catch you coming home early on my off days sometimes, but never a full day.”

“Huh.” Carmy has to take a minute to think about that one. “Yeah, I don't know either. I think you're right.”

“Then, like I said. It's special.” They seal up the bag of coffee grounds, and then they frown. “Shit. I forgot to turn on the kettle. Can you—”

“Already did it,” he reports, pleased, and his sense of accomplishment only doubles at their sigh of relief.

“Thank god.” There's the familiar clicking sound of the kettle reaching the perfect temperature. “Just in time, too. Can you hand it to me?”

“Yes, chef,” he says, because it always makes them laugh. Today is no exception. He slides the metallic kettle over to them.

“So what delights did you whip up over there?” They ask. They begin pouring the almost boiling water over their coffee grounds in a slow circle, gradually inching towards the middle. “It smells amazing. I want the full break-down.”

“The full break-down, got it.” On two circular plates, he's carefully placing a fried egg, thick cut bacon, and a slice of toast with jam and butter. “Uh…it's nothin’ special, just stuff we had in the fridge. We've got a, uh, brown-butter fried egg with a little paprika, sage, pepper, salt…”

“Oh, just an egg made with liquid gold, no big deal,” they imitate.

“Cut it out,” he snips back, but he's smiling and they know it. “There's honestly not much to it. This thick-cut bacon was in the back, so I cooked the rest of it. And the toast is just brioche with salted honey butter and blueberry jam.”

“Carmy. C'mon. That's nothing special to you?”

“I mean.” It's not quite nothing, he thinks. “I can make nicer breakfasts, is all.”

“That's what you said when you made me garlic bread, and that fucking blew my mind.” They set the kettle down with a thunk. The glass is full of dark coffee. Prepped next to them is their favorite glass mug alongside Carmy's. He's not sure how they knew that it was his favorite, but he doesn't question it.

“I'm just letting you know that you should wait to be really impressed.”

“Too fucking late, man.” He's turned around and placed the two breakfast platters on the kitchen island, and they gawk openly at it. “Holy fuck.”

“It's ready,” he says, surprisingly meek. He can't comprehend why anxiety's hitting him now of all times. He's served acclaimed food critics, top-security government officials, and celebrities more times than he can count. Before that audience, he never faltered, but in front of his roommate in their crumpled pajamas, his heart stutters.

“Oh, wow…” They regard the food with undeserved softness. Like a punctured balloon, his anxiety immediately begins deflating. They're staring at the food like it's a painting in a museum. “You seriously didn't have to do all of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.” He feels heat on the back of his neck. “Is…is that okay?”

“It's more than okay.” Suddenly, he notices their eyes are puffy, like they were crying. “Goddamnit, get over here.”

He only registers what's about to happen for one second before they're hugging him. Their palms are on his back, and the top of their head tucks under his chin perfectly. He makes a small, surprised noise.

“I, I'm glad you like it.” He links his arms around them, allows himself to rest his chin on their head. With their face turned to the side, their ear's pressed up against his chest, and he's instantly struck with the paranoia that they're gonna hear his rapid heartbeat.

“I haven't even taken a bite yet, and I love it.” They lean back then, arms still wrapped around him and head craned upwards to look at him. It's far too intimate for what they are, and Carmy hates how his heart beats even harder. “Thank you for doing all this. Seriously. I…”

“The breakfast's just a side thing, I'm, um, still baking you a cake.”

“What? You're doing this and a cake?”

“Um,” Carmy repeats intelligently.

“Carmy. Carmy, Carmy, Carmy.” Their words ooze affection, but surely he's just imagining it. Their hands are crawling up his back. “God, I could just ki—”

“There's the timer,” Carmy blurts out, because his phone's ringing and so are his ears. At the sound, they let him go, and he grabs two towels to retrieve the two circular cake pans from the oven. A toothpick poked through the middle comes out clean, so he sets them on a wire rack to cool.

He needs to focus on the cakes. That's the most important thing.

“Oh my god.” They lean in close to the cake and take a deep breath. “Is this—”

“Devil's food cake, yeah.” The heat searing his face is surely from opening the oven.

“You—how did you—” Their smile is luminous with joy. “You really pay attention to every little thing, don't you?”

“Sometimes. When it counts.” He fidgets awkwardly, nails picking at the sides of his fingers. “Wanna eat by the window, or…?”

“Fuck yeah I do. Can you bring the plates over? I'll have the coffee over in just a second.”

Carmy sets up at their little table first, placing the plates just right across from one another. The morning sun casts a cozy glow through their speckled window, streaking planes of light across the floor. He patiently waits and watches them pace from the fridge to the counter, splashing cream into their mugs. Through the transparent glass, he watches the white fizzle into the dark coffee, blending into a warm brown.

“Just a tiny spoon of sugar for you, right?” They peek over their shoulder, catching his stare, and he nods. He's also not quite sure how they know that, either. They've had coffee in the morning maybe a handful of times before.

He supposes they also pay attention sometimes, when it counts.

“Alright, here we go.” They bring a mug in each hand and set them delicately down on the table. He notes that his coffee is the perfect color. “Oh, thanks for waiting. You didn't have to.”

“I, I guess so, yeah. It's just, uh, you always wait for me, so…”

“That's—that's true.” An odd tension sets in their face, but they laugh it off, and it disappears. “I guess I’m not used to it anymore.”

A part of him wants to ask further by what they meant by that, but they're already taking pictures of his food so dutifully. He doesn't want to ruin it, so he eats.

It's nice to have a solid breakfast for once. He had taken their advice from the other night and had been drinking milk with protein powder. It was nice not to feel like he was teetering the edge by lunch time, but truthfully, it was a bit unsavory. This breakfast platter is much more palatable. It also helps that his stomach pains aren't active today.

Time rolls by slowly this quiet morning, and Carmy recognizes the oddity of it immediately. It's clear to see when by this time, he's usually already done at least ten laps through the restaurant. An irritating signal in his brain is telling him that he needs to get up and do something, not sit around and eat, but for once, he doesn't want to listen.

A memory from roughly two weeks ago (or was it one week?) unearths all of sudden. He was up early, drinking shitty coffee and sinking into dissociation. Mornings were lonely, as he was usually the only one up, but not that day. His roommate came stumbling into the kitchen, awake from a restless night. They chatted before he had to head out, and he remembers wishing he had more time in the morning to spend with them.

He imagined a morning just like this one, with pajamas, food, and messy hair. He daydreamed about having all the time in the world, and he thought about getting to spend it all with them. Now he’s sitting in that moment he imagined, except that it’s real. They're across from him in their wrinkled pajamas and bedhead, contentedly mowing through their food. There's a smear of jam on the corner of their mouth. He takes a sip of his coffee, and it's perfect, just as they made it for him.

This amount of good should scare him, needs to scare him, but he just can't bring himself to care anymore. He wants more than nightmares, cigarettes, and floating just above the budget. He wants this.

He tastes his coffee and reminds himself that he’s still here. The moment hasn’t passed him by.

“Is it good?” He asks quietly. It’s a rhetorical question, it always is, but he can’t help himself. He wants to hear it from them.

“So. Fucking. Good.” They have to finish chewing before they answer. “You always knock it out of the park. If this is the prelude, I don’t know if I can handle what’s next,” they say, gesturing towards the cooling cake.

“It won’t be ready for a while yet. You have time to prepare yourself.” That makes them smile. All according to plan. “Got anything in mind for today?”

“Nothing glamorous. I was just gonna go out for a little. Go thrifting, maybe watch a movie later. Smoke a joint.” They shrug. “Just my usual sort of thing.”

“Mm.” He dusts off crumbs from the toast off his fingers on his pants. “Sounds like a good time. You still wanna go?”

“I do, yeah.” They stare at him for a moment, as if processing his words. Or just him. “Do you…wanna tag along, or…?”

Whenever they ask him if he wants to spend time together (whether it’s grocery shopping, smoking, or watching a show), they usually offer it with an air of nonchalance. Carmy’s assumed it’s been out of politeness, restraining their expression as to not put any pressure onto him. That’s the person he’s used to, not this uneasy anxiety, someone afraid to ask him to spend time with them.

It reminds him of himself in every way.

“I’d love to tag along,” he answers easily, just as they’ve always done for him. “I’ve got the whole day off, after all.”

“Right. ‘Course.” He watches their little smile double in size. “I promise to not make you watch me try on clothes for too long.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I like thrifting, y’know.” And you, he thinks to himself.

“You do? Oh, of course—” They make a contemplative noise to themself. “Vintage denim. I always wondered how you managed to have so many pairs.”

“Once you know where to look, they’re pretty easy to find. I can help you find some, if you want.”

“I’d love that. I realized the other day that I don’t have any dark wash jeans, so—actually, the truth is that I do have a pair, but they’re so fucked up and old that I never wear them anymore. Anyway, I need new jeans. Think you could find some dark wash blue jeans for me?”

“If you’re willing to hit up more than one store, then definitely,” he replies, just a smidge cocky.

“I’m willing to hit up even two more stores.” He pretends to gasp, to which they nod confidently. “Yeah. That’s right. Maybe even three.”

“We won’t need three,” Carmy promises. “I’m better than that. Probably won’t even need two, but…” He shrugs. “We’ll see what they’ve got.”

“Okay, Mr. Confident over here,” they tease. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

They head out after they both clean the kitchen and freshen up. Carmy gets the flour out of his hair and rewets his hair to revive some of his curls. He silently thanks his past self for showering the night before. With the passage of the morning cold and the rising sun, the afternoon weather’s become brisk and pleasant. However, the weather’s barely a factor in how he’s dressing.

Is this too much? Is this not enough? He’s switching shirts and pants in the mirror like he’s about to go on a date. He knows he’s not, swears to himself that he’s not, but he’s put product in his hair and cologne on his wrists and temples. It’s not a date, but he can’t fucking decide what to wear.

He sucks it up and settles on a gray sweater, light wash blue jeans, and white sneakers. From under his collar and at the bottom of his sweater peeks out a brown button up. It’s probably too much, but this is his sixth outfit change. He’s fed up with it and himself.

After adjusting the gold chain that got hidden under his collar, he steps out.

He finds them already waiting by the door in this thick knit cardigan and fitted plaid pants that makes his heart stutter. When they hear him approaching, their head snaps up from their phone, and their skin sparkles with touches of makeup.

“You look really nice.” He has no idea how he let that slip, but he’s more shocked that he didn’t stutter once.

“Ah, th—thank you,” they stammer, fingers fidgeting with the edge of their sleeve. He’s not sure if it's their makeup or their skin that’s doing the blushing. It’s nice to see them being the one tripping over their words for once. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

“Oh. Um.” Handsome? It echoes in his head. He instantly feels self conscious. So much for being the more suave one for once. “Thanks, uh…I just didn’t wanna wear my work clothes,” he lies in an attempt to ease his embarrassment.

“I gotcha.” He’s glad they don’t challenge him on it. “Shall we head out?”

“Yeah. Where we headed first?”

They take the metro to their personal favorite shop a little up north. The metro’s surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon, but the crowd forces the two of them to be huddled next to each other. They’re both standing close to a pole by the window, each with one hand wrapped around the metal.

As passengers come and go, they step closer to him to move out of the way. Eventually it just gets to a point where they’re standing nearly pressed up against his chest. He tries not to dwell on how that makes him feel, but he can smell the fragrance they put on, and it’s very distracting.

Luckily, the ride is short. Any longer on the train, he might’ve put an arm around their shoulder, god forbid.

“If we can’t find what I’m looking for here, maybe you can show me one of your favorite spots to go thrifting,” they say as they enter the thrift store. The interior is decorated, clean, and lovely, and unlike the metro, it’s not packed to the brim with people. It smells faintly of incense, and there’s local art framed all over the walls for sale. It oozes warmth and excitement, much like them.

“There’s a ton of shit here, so maybe we won’t need to after all.” He finds himself intaking everything at once, eyes flickering from sign to sign. “I’ve never been here before. This is really cool.”

“It’s my favorite place to find new clothes.” They trail down the racks, finger flitting between clothes. “I hope you can find something you like here, too.”

“I’m sure I will.” He’s already walking to their denim section and immediately spots some contenders. “I think I already have.”

He’s not sure if they mean to spend hours in there, but he certainly does. There’s more than just clothes to look at, although that’s what takes up most of his time. There’s dishes, furniture, cds, vinyls, books, even electronics. He goes back and forth with them, clothing articles piling up in his arms as they sit on battered couches together and peruse scratched cds. Everywhere he looks, there’s just more, more, and more.

“Okay, I’ve gotta cut myself off,” they say as they leave the furniture section. They’ve sat on nearly every chair in that place. “I already have so many clothes to try on, and that’s not even including the jeans you’ve picked out for me.”

“If it helps, some of these are mine.” Carmy flips through the layers of hanging jeans that have built up on his forearm. “If you can believe it, I even found some stuff that isn’t denim.”

“I’m not sure if I can, but seeing is believing.” They thumb through some long-sleeves he’s carrying that are seeping out from under the jeans. “I’m just glad you were able to find some stuff for yourself, too. Not that I was that worried.”

He hands them the jeans he’s found for them, all dark wash and in their size. To his surprise, they also hand him an article of clothing for him to try on.

“I thought you’d look good in this. You’ll have to show me when you try it on,” they say, and it’s innocent, completely meaningless, but as soon as Carmy agrees and rushes to hide in the changing room, he views in the mirror and sees his flushed face.

Doesn’t mean anything, he repeats to himself, over and over and over. Stop getting in over your head.

He tries on his items of choice first. The first is a dark green henley that looked better on the rack than it did him, so he puts it in the reject pile. The second is a dark blue long sleeve that fits just right. It’s cheap, too, so it’s an automatic purchase. He presumes the way to word it is that it hugs him in all the right places, but he’s not sure. The rest are jeans, of which only one he decides to buy. A bit pricey, but for the brand and year, it’s worth it (although he basically always uses this reasoning with himself).

Now, for the piece of clothing they picked out for him. It’s a dark brown t-shirt that seems like it’s just the right length. It’s a muted, yet warm brown, a bit rosey in hue. He doesn’t realize it’s a v-neck until he gets it over his head and down his shoulders.

“I’ve never worn a v-neck before,” he calls out to the room next to him.

“Oh, are you trying it on? Do you like it?” Their slightly muffled voice calls back to him.

“Um…I’m not sure,” he admits with a shaky laugh. The collar is lower than he’s used to. It dips below his collarbones, and between them dangles his chain. “Should I show you?”

“Yes! Hold on, lemme get some pants on. …Okay, I’m stepping out!”

He hears their door open alongside his. When they see him, their expression snaps into what he believes is surprise and delight. He’s sure he looks somewhat the same.

They’re wearing one of the vintage jeans he picked out for them—dark blue Levi’s. Although they’re rolled up a couple times at the bottom, it seems to fit them just right. As he stares, he’s reminded of his many pairs of Levi’s, and it’s more or less like seeing them in his clothes, which is. Which is. Uh. Yeah.

“I knew that would suit you,” they say with a grin, to which he realizes he can’t hide his blush.

“It’s not weird?”

“Not at all. It looks good.” They tilt their head to the side as they openly look him over, hip cocked. Something in their gaze is making him hot. “No pressure to buy it, of course.”

“It’s different from what I’m used to, but…” He looks down, smooths the fabric with his palm. “It’s kinda nice, something like this. Um, and what do you think about the jeans?” He needs to direct the attention off him quickly.

“Oh, I love them. The others ended up fitting not quite right on me, but that’s how it goes.” They move from side to side, almost twirling. It’s cute. “I love these, though. Just a little long, but I’m used to it.”

“That’s how it always is. I can hem them for you, if you want. I usually hem mine.”

“And he sews,” they say, seemingly to themself, but they’re looking right at him. Embarrassing. “If you don’t mind, that’d be amazing. Either way, I’m probably getting them.”

“Good. You should. They fit well.”

“Yeah?” They glance back into their fitting room, likely examining themself in the mirror, and then back at him. “Okay, then. Definitely getting them.” With that and a cheeky grin, they go back into their dressing room to try on the rest of their clothes. Carmy follows suit, grateful to hide his embarrassed face.

Carmy heads to check out with the dark blue long sleeve, a pair of jeans, and the brown v-neck. They’ve decided on the pair of jeans they showed him earlier and a little purple tank-top he wishes he got to see on them.

“Will that be all for you today?” The cashier asks him as he checks out first. Even the cashiers here are pretty nice, he finds.

“Oh, their stuff, too.” He nods to them, who’s standing right next to him.

“Carmy.” They glare at him.

“What?” He feels himself smiling.

“You can’t do this to me.”

“C’mon.” He nudges them gently with his elbow. “It’s my present to you.”

“Oh, so the present wasn’t the breakfast? Or the cake? Or helping me pick these out?”

“Why can’t it be all of them?” He decides to stop this in its tracks and takes the clothes out of their hands, sliding it onto the counter. “Just these two, and that’ll be it.”

“Just you wait until your birthday hits,” they mutter darkly, shaking their head. “Just you wait.”

“I haven’t told you my birthday.” He pauses. “Right?”

“I’ll ask Richie.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re giving me no choice.”

“You could also just, I don't know, not ask—”

“I wouldn't have to if you didn't force my hand—”

“You guys are cute together,” the cashier comments with a smile, surely a harmless, meaningless thing, but it shuts the both of them up. Carmy can already feel the impact of it on his psyche, and he decides to tuck away the surging emotions to unpack later. At least, he'll try.

“You really didn't have to get those for me,” they tell him when they're exiting the store. “But I guess I should just be saying thank you. So…thank you.”

“Sure. I mean, it would've been better if it was wrapped and stuff, but…” He shrugs. “Had to get you a real present, not just food.”

“Not just food, my ass.” That makes him laugh. “It'll be nice to have something to remind me of this day, though. That's one of the nice parts of getting gifts. Everytime I wear these clothes, I'll think of you.”

“Good. Yeah, that's…good,” he finishes lamely. He nods like their words haven't flustered him, but he's sure they can tell. They laugh, and he can tell it's because of his reaction.

“I'm sorry that the cashier said that,” they say out of nowhere.

“Why're you apologizing? It's not your fault.” Any embarrassment he was feeling before is immediately replaced with a new, more potent sort of embarrassment. He was hoping they wouldn't mention it.

“I guess that's true. I don't know, I just…” They trail off. “Just hope it didn't upset you.”

“Not at all,” he lies, and he prays they believe it.

. . . . .

The metro is less crowded on the way home. They sit comfortably next to each other and watch the city pass them by. A part of Carmy mourns the closeness they had on the way there, but the other part tells him to get it together and keep his distance.

“I'mma take a nap,” they say with a yawn. Their cardigan and bag have been tossed onto the couch. The new clothes have been thrown into the laundry machine, and there's the muffled sound of running water. “Maybe we could smoke and watch a movie later, though.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He peers into the fridge to check on the cake rounds. Just as he left them. “Have a good nap.”

“Thanks, Carm,” they reply sleepily. “Wouldn't be a good day if I didn't get to have a nice nap, after all.” With that, they shuffle into their room and shut the door behind them.

Carmy spends the next two hours flying around the apartment, baking, cooking, cleaning. The sun slowly sets as he goes. He keeps his body and hands moving in hopes that his head doesn't have a chance to catch up, but it manages to keep the pace. It always does.

The crumb coat's fucked up on the left, his first train of thought says. He inspects the surface, eyes following the circumference of the cake. There's a little loose crumb. With the edge of his spatula, he tucks the crumb away.

The faint smell of chocolate wafts up from the cold cake rounds. He's hunched over the kitchen island, hands reaching between dark chocolate frosting and cake. The afternoon sun casts harsh lights onto the cake, and it glistens. He genuinely can't remember the last time he's made a layered cake. He's never been much of a baker, anyhow.

You're going to disappoint them, his second train of thought interrupts, running parallel to the other one at full speed. Who do you think you are? You don't make cakes.

He leans back, inspects his work. The crumb coats are perfect.

Fuck off, he thinks back, triumphant. Look at that shit. He runs his finger along the spatula, picking up congealed crumbs and frosting. He licks it off, and it's delicious. And it tastes good, asshole. So shut the fuck up.

You're being a nuisance, the thoughts continue. Carmy's pops the crumb coats in the freezer for a quick set. They don't actually like any of this. They're just being nice to make you feel better.

They seemed happy to me, he thinks, but he's faltering. He's washing the dishes, and the sensation of the warm water feels distant. They loved the food I made.

Couldn't you tell they were lying? He doesn't understand why these thoughts are rampaging through his head now of all times. It's not unfamiliar, but it's inconvenient. Keep this up, and you'll actually be surprised when they drop you.

Without warning, a memory hits him . As his hands drip with soap, he's reminded of playing with Michael and Sugar in the summer when he was five. Or six, or seven, he's never quite sure. They were outdoors at a local park, and the heat made the metal of the playground searing hot to the touch.

He was blowing bubbles, and the sticky mixture from the bottle was getting all over his hands. In his memory, Carmy watches the way the iridescent bubbles floated away and left little circles on the surface of the plastic slide. He can't remember why he wasn't playing with the others. He can remember the sound of their laughing voices in the distance, gleeful and delighted without him. He thinks he tried to join in, but it didn't work. It often just didn't work, and it was all his fault.

The memory ends, and Carmy's finished washing the dishes.

This is working, he thinks to himself. His hands are dried out from the hot water and soap. I swear to you, it's working. So just stop. Okay?

There's no response. Good enough.

He hears the door opening as soon as he's putting the finishing touches on the cake. With a damp paper towel, he carefully swipes away stray drops of frosting that fell onto the cake stand. He thinks it's best described as if a tiramisu was turned into a devil's food cake. It's not the best cake he's ever made, but it's definitely up there in terms of looks. All the components of the cake tasted good separately, so he hopes it makes sense in his mouth as much as it did in his head.

“Have a nice nap?” He asks before he turns his head. They're standing in the hallway, bed hair hastily tied back.

“Sorta. It was okay.” Their eyes are glued onto the cake as they walk up to the island. “Is this…?”

“This is for you, yeah,” he finishes for them. They take a seat on one of the chairs at the island. “It's a, uh, devil's food cake with vanilla mascarpone cream on the inside. The outside's this coffee buttercream…” He trails off, not knowing what else to say. He could mention the dutch processed cocoa powder, the expensive vanilla bean pods, or the endless sifting, but it feels too gratuitous.

“Wow…” They're still staring, as if it's not quite real to them. “I can't believe this is for me. It almost looks too pretty to eat, but you know I can't wait to tear into this.”

“We could, uh, have it now, if you, if you want,” he says hesitantly.

“I don't know if I could wait.” Their smile grows wider. “You even put candles on it?”

“We don't have to light them or anything if you don't want to,” he adds quickly.

“The candles are the fun part. I don't mind that. The song is…okay I guess, but…” They give him an expectant, excited look. “Were you gonna sing for me?”

“...Only if you wanted to,” he mumbles, suddenly stricken with embarrassment.

“Would that be okay? If I wanted that?”

“I wouldn't mind.” Not if it's you.

“Okay. Then, yeah.” They pull out a lighter from their pocket. “I’d really like that.”

Carmy cuts the overhead lights before taking out his own lighter to help them light the rest of the candles. One by one, the dark room gradually illuminates until it's filled with a warm, orange glow. The flickering flames cast shifting shadows onto their smiling face and reflect into their glossy eyes.

“Ready?” He asks quietly.

“I'm ready,” they whisper.

Carmy doesn't really need to clear his throat, but he does so anyway. He can't recall the last time he sang happy birthday to anyone, let alone by himself. This is the first time he's ever sung in front of an audience, too.

I can do this, he thinks to himself. I can do this.

His voice is awkward and scratchy. He never uses it like this, has never sang for anyone in his life. His ears burn, and he hates the sound of his voice, but he reminds himself to focus on their delighted little smile and warm gaze. The room is far too quiet for his voice, making the words painfully clear.

“Happy birthday to you,” he finishes singing, voice trailing off awkwardly. He's more than ready to finish singing now. “Uh, make a wish…?”

“Right.” The two of them sit in the flickering candle light for a moment longer, the silence thick. Carmy watches their face, their eyes boring into the candles with an expression he can only describe as longing. Then, they blow out the candles with a decisive blow, and the room goes dark.

He moves to switch on the lights. When he turns back to look at them, tears are streaming down their face.

“Hey,” he says softly. He props his elbows on the counter, standing across from them and tilting his head to the side. They're not meeting his gaze, glazed eyes boring into the dripping candles. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” they whisper with a sniffle, and it sounds like a reflex. Something about them suddenly seems so much smaller. “I shouldn't be crying.”

“It's okay. I don't mind.” That makes them smile, even if it's shaky. “Was the singing too much?”

“No, it wasn't your singing,” they say with a laugh. “Your singing was lovely. It's just—I'm so happy. You made today so special.”

“Yeah?” He fights the urge to reach over and wipe their tears. “I'm glad. I wanted to make it good. I…” He hesitates. “...I didn't like the idea of you spending it alone.”

“I didn't either. And I thought I was going to have to be alone…but then you—then you took off work, and you made me breakfast, you went shopping with me—even got me clothes—and now this—” Another rush of tears gushes from their eyes, and they hastily wipe at it with their shirt.

“You've done way more for me. This is the least I could do.” Before he can stop himself, his hand is brushing hair out of their eyes. They freeze for a split second, eyes finally flickering up towards him. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It's okay,” they whisper back. “Um…” They let out a shaky sigh, the sort of trembling sound that happens after crying too much. “I feel like I should explain.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he assures them quickly, “but I…I'd like to know. If that's okay.”

“I want you to know. I, I do.” They open their mouth to keep talking, but shaky breaths continue to stifle them. It's hard to watch.

“Breathe,” he reminds them, quietly. He visibly takes in a deep breath, silently encouraging them to breathe with him. They follow suit, closing their eyes and taking a slow breath. Tears slip silently from their eyes. Gradually, their breathing becomes less of a staccato, evening out into something much more manageable.

“Thank you,” they murmur. He nods. They already sound a lot calmer. “I'm not sure where to start. I…I suppose I'll start with today.” Another deep breath. “I didn’t get a call from my parents today.”

“Ah…” The first missing piece.

“I knew they weren’t going to. But a part of me still hoped…” They stop and shake their head. “It's the first year that it's been like this.”

“What happened?”

“Uh…I went no contact with my family about a year ago.” Another pained, hollow laugh. The second piece. “I didn't even really want to—it was a complicated, shitty situation. My parents were being their usual shitty selves, and I just wanted them to apologize. It was over such a small thing, and, and I just…I don't know. I thought maybe I could fix things.” He's never seen them with such a heavy expression, etched with such weariness. “I just wanted them to apologize to me, Carm. That's all I wanted. And then they cut me off cold.”

Their voice is trembling again, and the tears are falling faster. The collar of their shirt is dark with moisture. Carmy hates that he doesn't know what to say. He hates just staring at them, silent as he tries to find the words.

Suddenly, he thinks of Michael.

“Michael never let me work in the restaurant,” he tells them. “That's why I went to culinary school. A big part of it, anyway. He just cut me off, didn't let me in no matter what I did, and it was…” He makes a vague hand gesture. “I felt insane. I was so fucking angry. I couldn't understand him. And I'm not saying that's anything like what you've been through, but…” He looks into their watchful eyes. “I'm sorry. I think I'm trying to say that I, that I understand. A little.”

“I…I appreciate that.” They give him a small, wobbly smile. He adores their smile, but seeing it through their tears twists something painfully in his chest. “He would've been lucky to have you. You're an excellent chef.”

“I am now, anyway.” He sighs. “Your family's missing out on you, too. You're…” Say it. Just say it. “You're a really wonderful person. I can't imagine…”

I can't imagine anyone looking at you and not loving what they see, he thinks suddenly, and he instantly realizes he can't say it. He can barely even comprehend that he just thought it.

He can't process this right now. This isn't the time.

“I keep trying to wrap my head around it all, wondering what I did wrong, what I could've done better… Sometimes, the conclusion I arrive at is that I must have done something to deserve this. That I just, I don't know, that maybe I'm just this permanent fuck-up, and…” They run a tired hand over their wet face, through their hair. “My parents fucked me up real good, man.”

There's something familiar about their words, and Carmy realizes it's because it sounds like him. He would've never guessed that under their easy-going smiles was a reflection of himself. He recognizes himself in their self-deprecation, the bone-deep pain. There was always a sense of sympathetic connection between the two of them, but he had no idea. He had no idea how far deep the mutual experiences went.

A part of him still can't believe that this is the truth, that this is what lies at their core, but then he remembers. He thinks about the night they were throwing up into the toilet. They were sobbing, crying into his shoulder about how much they hate themself.

“You know you didn't deserve it. Right?” Carmy's not sure when they started leaning in so close to each other. He's looking at their wet eyelashes with startling clarity. “You did all you could.”

“You don't know that.” Their words are so soft-spoken, but it still catches him off guard. “You don't know what happened.”

“You—” Irritation prickles inside him, his instincts itching to snap back, but he doesn't. He sees himself in them, and he holds back. “You're right. I don't know what happened. But I know you.” The shock is on their face as clear as day. “At least, I think I do.”

“I want to think you do, too,” they whisper. “But this—this messy bullshit is also me. I wish it wasn't. I wish you didn't have to see all this. I…don't want you to…think any less of me.”

“I don't think there's anything you could do to make me think less of you.” He doesn't resist dragging his thumb across a stray tear on their cheek. To his surprise, they lean into his touch. “Y'know when I almost burned down the apartment?”

“Oh my god.” They smile, and he feels their grinning cheek against his palm. “Yeah. Is it crazy to say I remember it fondly?”

“A little bit.” They laugh. It's quiet, but it's real. “Remember that talk we had after?”

“I do. Why?”

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” he says softly. “It won't push me away.”

They stare at him for what feels like a long time. Their eyes refill with tears, but they don't spill. With a clammy hand, they shakily place their hand on top of his hand that's still cradling their wet cheek.

“Fucking onions,” they say finally with a wet laugh. Fresh tears drip onto his thumb, and he wipes them away again. As many times as it takes. “God damnit, Carmy.”

“No one deserves to have shitty parents, let alone ones that walk out on them.” He thumbs away more tears. “You being an imperfect person like everyone else doesn't justify that.”

“There must be something more I could've done,” they whisper. “Something I did wrong.”

“Maybe. But they're your parents, not the other way around. It's not your fault.”

“I know. I know that. I do. There just has to be a reason, because—fuck—the truth would just be too fucked up.”

“...And that is?”

It takes a long, still minute before they can get their words out.

“...It’s—it's that—” Their cries are verging on sobs, increasingly more staggered and uncontrollable. “It's that s-some kids—are just—some kids have parents that will never—never love—”

They can't finish. Their sobs have overtaken their whole body. Their body's hunched over the counter, curled into themself. Carmy can't think of a time where he's ever seen them crying so hard.

Without another word, Carmy pulls them into a hug.

They cry for a long time. Through it all, fleeting condolences pass Carmy by in his head, but they all feel too cheap, too meaningless. So all he does is hold them tight, letting them grab onto his shirt and soak the fabric on his shoulder. It's all he feels he can really do.

After a while, the tide subsides. He feels them wilting in his arms, exhausted from sobbing so violently. He doesn't actually want to let them go, but their sniffling nose sounds like it's completely stopped up.

“I'm gonna get you some tissues, ok?” He says quietly. They make a quiet noise of acknowledgement, and they pull back. He snatches up a box of tissues from the coffee table. He places it in front of them before grabbing them a glass of water.

“Thank you,” they mumble, voice scratchy. Carmy stands and watches as they blow through several tissues. The water gets downed instantaneously.

“Better?”

“Yeah. A lot better.”

“Good.”

“...I think, deep down, I know I didn't deserve what happened. Or just having shitty parents in general.” They sigh. “It's just easier to think that I do. That I deserve it.”

“...Yeah.” That resonates with a part of him he's not quite ready to acknowledge. “You're one of the kindest people I've ever met,” he admits quietly. “If someone like you deserves a shitty hand in life, I'm fucked.”

“Carmy…” Their smile is small, but genuine. “Thank you. I want to be able to genuinely believe that, one day. I'm going to try.”

“I know. I get it.”

“I know you do.”

That makes both of them smile, even if it's bitter.

“Thanks for telling me. About everything.”

“No, thank you for listening. For just being there for me.” They prop their chin in their hands, their elbows resting on the counter. “Y'know, this past year, I've been trying to find a sense of joy in all this mess. Sometimes it just feels so far away, like…like any happiness is just impossible. But I think I've found it. Rather, I've already found it.”

“Yeah?” Carmy looks at them expectantly, but he never expected this—

“I found you,” they tell him.

“...” He immediately fixes his shocked expression. He's at a loss for words.

Me?

“I never found a chance to mention it, but…my parents are the reason I decided to live with you. That's why I wanted to be your roommate, even though we were strangers.” They shrug shyly. “My lease was up on my last place. I was gonna go home, but then all that stuff happened at the last minute, and…yeah. I needed to find a place to live.”

“Seriously?” They just nod. “Damn. Uh…Yeah, that's fucking crazy. I had no idea.”

“At the time, I was miserable. I kept thinking to myself, ‘I can't believe how shitty this situation is!’ Don't get me wrong, it was fucking awful, but…it led me to you, so…it wasn't really all that bad, in the end. I got lucky.”

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself. Fuck.

“If you hadn't roomed with me, I wouldn't have been able to come back home for my brother's restaurant,” he says, mostly because he's so embarrassed that he swears his whole body's red at this point. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. “I think I'm the lucky one.”

“Can't we both be lucky?”

“I guess we can. Just doesn't seem very realistic.”

“Little too late to say that. It's already real.”

“...There's no other shoe?”

“Not that I know of. I think the other shoe's already dropped for us a while ago. Surely there's no other shoes left?”

“I hope not. I don't know if I could take another one.”

“Me neither.”

“...”

“Do you…want to eat your cake now?”

“Fuck, oh my god—I completely forgot! Yes!”

Just as Carmy planned, the flavors go perfectly together. Even though he knew it was going to be delicious, when he takes the first bite of the cake, relief washes over him. They seem to be overjoyed, inhaling the cake at dangerous speeds.

“You're gonna hurt yourself if you eat that fast,” he observes, both amused and concerned.

“Can't talk. Need to eat this.” That makes him laugh so abruptly he nearly gets cake up his nose. “This is the best birthday cake I've ever had, both visually and taste-wise.”

“I'm glad. Like I said, I'm not really a baker, but…I make an alright cake.”

“You make a fantastic cake.” They’ve got a bit of frosting on the corner of their mouth. “It doesn't get much better than this—eating a cake made by you.”

“Because I'm a chef, you mean?”

“No, not that. Not just that, anyway,” they amend with a cheeky grin. “Because you're my best friend.”

You're my best friend.

…

I'm their best friend, he repeats to himself. I'm their best friend.

He thinks about crying. He won't cry, but he thinks about it.

“Oh,” he replies intelligently. “...Really?”

“Y-Yeah. Unless, uh, you don't—”

“You're my best friend too,” he blurts out, and the anxiety on their face fades away into a relieved, beautiful smile.

“Thank god. That would've been pretty awkward if you didn't…” They shake their head.

“I've never been anyone's best friend before,” he confesses.

“Seriously?” They recover from the shock quickly. “Lucky me, then.”

“I thought you established we were both the lucky ones.”

“Oh, right.” They chuckle. “Lucky both of us, then.”

Carmy thought that life would always be the same. He thought that he was fated to a routine of nausea and nightmares, never quite close enough to reach a rest point. He thought that he was okay with it being his fate, because he never knew anything else.

He thought that loneliness, cigarettes, and memories would be enough, because it always stays the same. Nothing ever changes.

Until them.

He thought he had outgrown happiness, that his body had grown accustomed to living without it. That there was no longer space in his heart to withstand the weight of joy. But as he sits here with his roommate, chatting and laughing over a cake he made for them, he finds that's not true.

His capacity for happiness had never left. It had been there all along.

And with that, something in him lets go.

Carmy sees it all at once. It starts from the beginning—he sees the first day he met them, an initially hesitant meeting gone surprisingly well. He sees the first time the two of them smoked together, deliriously laughing through shared smoke. He sees them in the mornings, messy hair and wrinkled t-shirts. He sees them in nothing but an apron. He sees them in tight black clothes that leave little to the imagination. He sees them laughing at a joke that he didn’t think was all that funny.

He sees them in his dreams, red tomato puree bleeding from their gums. He sees them holding his trembling hands in theirs, soothing him back down from the storm in his hand. He sees them comforting him through his tears. He sees them sobbing, hot tears on their cheek and his hand. He sees them heaving into the toilet, whispering that they want to know him. He sees himself, embracing them tightly in his arms.

He sees it all. He knows that he can't avoid it anymore.

Carmy is completely, undeniably in love with them, and there is absolutely nothing that he can do to make that realization disappear.

…Some things, he understands, refuse to stay the same.

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto @thehouseofevangelista

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy the bear #the bear fx #my fics #alexithymia fic #GOD. IT'S FINALLY HERE. THIS ONE'S A BEAST.#ch 6 is gonna be the climax..... it's gonna happen yall. it's finally here. hahahaha #anyway this one took so long to write because it was so revealing for me... as i'm sure yall have guessed. sigh.

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shiftylinguini · 8 months

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Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack:

@phoebe-delia asked in response to this fun lil ask game:

Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back? . (for the ask anything) Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back?

Now THIS. This is a good question, and something that is very much on my mind and has been for a while, as I am currently absolutely in the midst of this and trying to army crawl my way out. I don't have any magic bullets (is that the saying? idk) but I have been here before and i do have a small arsenal of tips or methods that I find can help me.

Here is my Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack (In no particular order):

Write anything

This is hardly groundbreaking advice, and it's also the hardest thing to actually do (imo) so do not beat yourself up if it takes a while to get to this. Basically, write ANYTHING―it can be aimless, it can be pointless, it can be crap (crap is subjective!! don't let the brain gremlins win!!).

Don't think about posting it, don't worry about anyone else ever reading it, just fling a few words onto a page and feel the rusty faucet turn on, proving to yourself that it still works.

Try and sus out what it is that's blocking you

Again this one is hard and annoying but functional. Once you can put your finger on the particular reason you're staring at a flashing black line on a blank page it can help you kick that reason off your lawn and into the bin.

And then, take it out of the bin and be kind to yourself about whatever that reason is. Maybe you feel shit because you're comparing yourself to others, your last fic felt like a lead balloon, you can't muster enthusiasm for what you once loved doing and fear that it's gone forever, you're projecting in a Tumblr post―whatever it is, it's something all the writers you admire and aspire to be like have felt, and been annoyed with themselves for, and so you can wrap it up in a blanket and put it on a shelf and be kind to it so it, (respectfully) shuts the fuck up.

(and remember, everyone feels insecure about their stuff. Like literally everyone, at some stage, feels like their stuff is rubbish)

Cheat on your OTP

Okay this one might not work for everyone, but it really does for me lol. Ruts (not the sexy kind) can often come with not wanting to engage in my usual ships, being annoyed by my lack of ability to fucking write them/anything/all my ideas taste like cardboard/bleh, and stepping out on them and reading something new can snap me out of it. Just, an injection of new ideas or scenarios or words or even just a little reprieve from being fed up with myself, which ideally, is why we're all here anyway.

(And then I come crawling back, and am welcomed with open arms haha)

In a similar vein:

Engage in media

This subtitle is genuinely terrible, i am sorry, LMAO, but essentially: find a piece of media that makes you go "oh, helLO sailor", unhinge your jaw like a snake, and consume it whole.

Let it nourish you, inspire you, excite you, making you feel SOMETHING, and then take that and think "fuck, what if i wrote bleepbloopblarp" and even if you write nary a single word, you've thought about it and that fucking counts.

It might be an album, a book, a song, a show, gifs of a hot person, the wikipedia summary of a movie, literally anything counts here if it makes you feel a twinge of creativity.

Ask yourself, what would Astolat do?

No for real. @candybarrnerd and I genuinely use this haha.

Worried your idea is stupid? Astolat would say write it.

Worried it's too weird? Nah, just write it.

It's dumb and no one will read it? Just write it for you *waggles eyebrows* (and then find out that yeah, nah, someone else will absolutely read this and be real fucking happy about it haha.)

Worried you're a one trick pony and have already written this fic before, like, and not even once before, and also you're projecting again in Tumblr post? WRITE IT AGAIN! As Astolat once said, "it's a fic so nice, I wrote it thrice".

It's good advice.

Make a friend or lean hard on the ones you have here

Misery loves company because it knows they'll come out of this together :). I know, I know, that's fucking NAFF, but fandom is all about finding like-minded freaks and blowing up their DMs because you saw a gif and now feel a kind of ways about it.

And lastly:

FUCK STATS!

I mean I love stats (yay validation!), but god can they make you feel like a worthless shit (hey where did my validation go :((( ). It can be really insidious, so piss that right off when it starts to fuck with your confidence or outlook on your own writing.

Hopefully there is something useful here, even if it's just looking at this advice and thinking "no that's shit, it's writing POISON" cos then you can maybe do the version you think is NOT shit, and that might work.

Good luck, fellow travelers!!

#thank you for this ask #this turned into projected cathrsis but i hope this helps if you are possibly feeling in a slump!!#on fic #writing #writing advice #our lord and saviour astolat #shifty turns an innocent ask into a therapy session #also is there a fucking name for the flashing space bar line on a word doc LMFAO there has to be right?? i do not know what it is

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iwaasfairy · 2 years

Text

┌─ “ „ POISONOUS ─┐

tw. almost noncon, incest, manipulation/coercion, lowkey cucking, manhandling, voyeurism, breeding, oral wordcount. 5.8k

a/n. day 1 of kinktober fics! writing suna was very fun but also kinda hard so i apologize if he's written pretty rough ♡♡♡ but i did it for the suna fans in the audience, so you better appreciate how long this fic is at least! anyway i love him and his stupid as fuck perfect face

suna rintaro x fem!reader x miya osamu

There’s a certain charm to the way it trickles from the roof down, down the pipe into the ever increasing puddle of muddy, dirty rainwater. It gives him the same feeling he gets when that rain drums hard on the translucent umbrella above his head, with the rhythmic pattern of a frantic heartbeat. Makes his evenings walking back along the same street, same houses, same -now that winter is on its way- dreadful scenery a bit more bearable. His thighs and core still tingle from practice, radiating heat like a stove— and if he stares long enough he could convince himself that droplets aiming for his skin evaporate upon landing.

His typical, daily walk ends at the end of the road; the house on the very edge, two facades free to the street as a stray car slowly drives by and makes the wet sidewalk sud with more water. Lucky he’s not wearing nice sneakers, he presumes. It’s not his house. Can’t be, you wouldn’t allow it. And ignore it as he might, his repentance is indefinitely tied to this place.

As he stuffs the spare pair of keys into the keyhole, the flowy curtains pull back, and he lowers the umbrella to pull it to a squeaked close. He can sense the eyes on him, even if he can’t see them, and lets a grin curl onto his lips. Click of the lock, not once but twice, and a little shove — and the curtain drops closed as the pat of feet running down the hall meets his ears. The door is swung open before him with a sort of mix between fear and excitement that scares him for a moment, arm reaching to block the exit before he can think it through; or see if you’ll stop in time.

An arm and a leg, knee also knocking into the doorframe to block the path towards the street, like you’re an overzealous pet. But he doesn’t have time to think it through, before your face is aimed at his and you’re staring up at him like you’re appreciative and disgusted all at once. Your silence is tense, with the calculating way you position yourself in the doorway. But he smiles nevertheless, and clears his throat. “Hey, little sister. I’m home.”

Your long, stupid long fucking lashes flutter as you take a deep breath and reach to grab at his collar to gently, but impatiently, pull him down a few inches. “Rin nii,” you breathe, and smile as your eyes get a tad glossier. Though he can clearly tell you are a little bit uncomfortable embracing him again -his own fault, he knows- it’s a sweet attempt at normality. “I missed you.”

“Yeah?” His voice comes out a bit raspy, and he dips down to place a gentle kiss to the top of your crown. You basically melt against him at the touch, the human equivalent of a purr, and he runs long fingers along the side of your face with a soft breath. “Good.” Then he pulls back to glance at your face, the heat burning over your nose, and how you seem to be a little short of breath. That— and suddenly all at once he notices the distinct lack of much clothing, covering the doorway even more.

The look burns at the edges of his thin blanket of shame, and makes his stomach turn. “You should go back in, baby sister. You’re giving the neighborhood a show.” Your expression barely changes, but there’s a split second where your eyes flick to his waist, then right back up. It’s not even an unfair reaction, but it still makes him let out a cold laugh, looking away. Well, you’re not wrong, he guesses. The moment’s enough to have him forgetting about the familiar rush of displeasure, the nauseating feeling of jealousy seeping from his skin. In this split second, there’s only him between you, and that door; and he’d never forgive himself if you got away again. Got hurt. He just… just can’t have you running out.

Not again. “C’mon, use those pretty little legs to carry yourself all the way back to the couch, and then we can talk.” Your big eyes flick only over his shoulder for a second, like you’re considering the possibility of running, before you turn and thump back the way you came. And another familiar voice sounds out through the hall.

“Yer late, she ‘bout threw a whole fit before I could get ma hands on ‘er. Baby, c’mere, sit back down.” He’s interrupted by your soft voice, though you’re too quiet for him to make out what you say. And after a hum, Osamu continues. “Ran out into the yard— she was near hypothermic before I got her into the bath.” There’s a few moments of silence, before a low moan comes. “Fuck, that’s it— Take it ju~st like that.” Rintaro bristles, skin crawling with a low sort of irritation that makes the hairs on his arms stand upright. He closes the door behind him and takes a long, deliberate breath- then walks around the corner. The sight that greets him makes him a little sick to his stomach, though mostly from the icky envy sticking to the roof of his mouth as he drops his bag of practice gear aside and averts his eyes.

From the way you, his girl, his property, is sat between Osamu’s legs; pretty lips kissing up the length of his cock with a whine and a shiver. The brunet grimaces. “Samu, I thought I asked you not to pull this shit with her when I’m around.”

“Ya weren’t, until two seconds ago,” Osamu simply responds, grabbing your cheek to coach you back to his cock and bucking into your wet mouth as the sound -along with your pretty moans- fills the silence in the room. Rintaro’s eyes glide back to his friend, trying to bite through the hostility. You pull back with another noise, but Osamu’s grip on your cheek doesn’t allow for much room, and so you huff and lick at the head for a few more moments. “B’sides, she’s my fiancée,” the wet noise of your tongue darting around his length as he forces it back into your mouth, “don’t tell me- w-what to do- ah- with my own wife… And s’nothin’ you haven’t seen before, Rin.”

It stays quiet for a long time, where time itself seems to hold its breath for you three. As the truth collects in a puddle between you all and wets your feet with icy pinpricks. The other man is the first to break the silence, as he brushes his thumbs along your cheeks in the exposed position. “She’s your sister, Rin. You guys have ta sort this thing out, don’t ya think? Right, baby?”

“... I let him in, didn’t I?” You pull back again, swallow and take a deep breath against the tears on your waterline, before wrapping your soft palm around Osamu’s cock to turn over your shoulder. Eyes questioning, carefully flitting over his expression to test the waters. “We’re okay, Rin nii. You’re… fine.” It's vile. The way his brain clings to that admittance of mercy, and melting it together with the image of your flushed, glossy lips and marked up neck and tits. You mewl under your breath, going more putty when your soon-to-be husband pulls your head towards the ceiling by your hair.

Osamu groans low when you continue the handjob dutifully, but lets his eyes flutter closed on the couch, and you don’t take your eyes away from him where he still remains to the side. “Rintaro,” you speak it again, even softer— like the feeling of his name on your tongue is almost too much to bear. He feels the same. He shrugs off his jacket, gives you another last look, before walking past you two towards the bedrooms. “Nii nii,” you almost beg.

But he can’t. “Well, let me know when you finish up here,” his voice is slow and deliberate as you fully attempt to follow him, but the hand in your hair stops you. And though Osamu lets out a slight grumble under his breath, he pretends well not to care, coaching you patiently back to the hot cock in front of your face. You don’t struggle, not anymore, and Rintaro wills himself not to feel the ache in the center of his chest as he leaves you behind in the living room to mind his own. He would be mad. Could be, if not for the fact that he started all of this in the first place. Made a show out of you.

It doesn’t really surprise him that you don’t fight the order any harder either. You never fight anyone on their mishaps hard enough to cause a ripple. He loves you for it, he does. Even if everything else falls apart around you two, you love your big brother. He knows it, Osamu knows it, and even if you’re too proud to admit it— you did let him in. You have yet to deny him anything. He crashes onto the bed of the spare room, staring up at the ceiling as the sounds of you and the squeaking of the couch grow louder and louder.

“Rin nii, where are we going?” your voice echoes through the night, where you trip, stumble, and barely catch yourself on his arm as he laughs. Your little pout is set a little sharper when he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you along with him, ignoring street lights in favor of crossing the street under the protection of night. “Rintaro~” you whine long and needy, frown growing with each second he chuckles more— but he can’t help it. It’s exhilarating to have you clinging to his side like an overgrown child, fixed with an uncertainty only he can clear up.

“Stop being such a brat, just keep up,” he whispers into your crown, burying his face into your hair for just long enough to have the heat linger. “I need your help for something.” You falter a little in your step, and stare up at him as you walk, but he doesn’t look down. Can’t, or he might just spill his guts right here and now, both literally and figuratively. Truth is, you’re not stupid. A little too trusting, and endlessly forgiving of his sins, yes; but not stupid. He would dare to bet that you could figure it out if you really wanted to. And as long as you don’t bother to confront him, he isn’t going to speak life into it. “Stop staring.”

“Rin nii,” you try, only to snap your mouth shut when his sharp, bright eyes find yours.

Truth is— it’s easier to pretend that it’s brotherly affection, isn’t it? That you don’t feel the way his heart races as his arm slips around your lower back and he pulls you in close enough to share each other’s body heat. You walk through the empty-enough street with soft footsteps, pace fast, until he suddenly squeezes your hip. And though you bristle a little, you can only look at the side of his face. He refuses to make eye contact. “In here, c’mon.” You follow him in between the gates of the old park, towards the faint flickering of yellow light and murmuring— steps only getting a little more hesitant.

“Mom will know we left,” you suddenly whisper, hiding your face into his side more, and clinging to his long shirt with a sudden fear.

“We’re sibling bonding, little sister. Mom will understand. And I won’t tell if you don’t,” the brunet shoots back with a convincing grin, making you nod and wrap your arm around his waist in return. But really, his hands are a little shaky, and his throat dry. You arrive at the fire pit like that, tangled in each other’s embrace and hiding yourself into his ribs— his friends falling a little quiet before Rintaro dares peel himself away from you. Atsumu’s eyes look giddy in this light, and Osamu’s calculating but attentive. Aran only pauses his story for a few seconds, before smiling at you.

“You want to take a seat?”

Your first instinct -a fact that makes him heat up inside- is to look at your Rin nii for confirmation. And so he shakes his head. “She’s fine.”

“Told ya he’d actually get ‘er, Tsumu.” Osamu’s lips are wrapped around a beer bottle, one of many strewn around the fire. The heat of it makes you glow a little more, skin feeling electric on his. He feels a little fuzzy under all their gazes, under the expectations of the night. “Ya’ll hafta cough up fifty bucks soon.”

“‘M not coughin’ up shit until I see ‘t.” The other man besides him grimaces as he speaks, voice a little too loud in the silence of the night. “So, little Suna, ya like yer brother?” Atsumu’s eyes glint gold as he takes in how you’re still pressed into your big brother’s side, and you give him a polite nod as answer. Then the blond glances up at him instead, and leans back on the log he’s sat on. “What now, Sunarin…”

“He’ll do it,” Osamu mumbles.

And Atsumu frowns, taking a beer of his own. “Shut up, he couldn’t, Samu.”

They continue with the bickering as Rintaro’s hand slides down your spine to comfort you a little. “Do what?” you whisper, almost as if to yourself, and Rintaro’s breath hitches in his throat. Your eyes glisten as you turn to look up at him now, lips glossy as they pull into a frown. You clear your voice to speak louder, demanding as your chest presses against his belly in the process. “What did you take me out here for, Rintaro? Do what?”

His tongue rubs along the back of his teeth as he dares to finally, finally confront you — towering over you as he does, and takes your hand. You go blank-faced, and try to pull back; because maybe, whatever you see on his face isn’t the answer you were hoping for. But his fingers wrap tighter around your wrist, and he cracks open his mouth to let out a little chuckle. “What, you don’t trust your big brother?”

“Tell me what’s happening, Rin nii.” Your rapid breathing and the way you grab at his shirt like you’re ready to push, fight him if you have to, it stings. But he’s a good enough actor to bite through it to paint a smile on his lips, ignoring the eyes he can feel on the two of you. Staring in anticipation. There’s a few tense moments where you just stare up at him, big, innocent eyes flicking all over his face in question. Before you grow impatient and try to pull your hand away again, only to be stopped by his arm where he wraps it around the small of your waist. “I want to go home, nii nii,” your lip shakes, voice quieting to barely a whisper, “let go.”

“We’re just playing, little sis,” he breathes out with another smile, though he’s sure this one barely reaches the corners of his lips. Biting his bottom lip, he leans down further into your space until you’re basically nose to nose and your eyes go wide in shock. It happens before his brain can catch up with his body. One second you’re shoving at his shoulder in an attempt to escape from whatever situation he’s just trapped you in, and the next he’s pulling your head back by your hair and is kissing you like he means it. He does mean it.

Everything goes deathly quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the rapid pounding of his blood rushing through his brain. Cheeks hot and lips tingly. His tongue is in your mouth before either of you have any chance to catch your balance, pulling you into him full force and squeezing you so close it’s suffocating. And then he moans, and you let out a muffled noise into his mouth and everything comes in with the weight of the world. The guys’ shocked mumbles. Your nails digging into his arm, your whimpering, the way you’re pushing against him and trying to snake out of his grip.

But it doesn’t really matter, because he’s still kissing you. You, the apple of his eye, the one thing he’s wanted more than he’s ever wanted anything. He’s actually fucking kissing you, making out with his little sister like the fucked up lunatic his friends bet he was. Can’t help but lick into the sweetness of your mouth and claim you for himself. “Stop wiggling. I don’t wanna hurt you,” Rintaro huffs in the split second you manage to separate yourself from him, before forcing another kiss on you and his time, your tongue tangles with his much sweeter. Turning into lazy kissing when you slump into his hold and your shaky hands reach for his collar. His head is heavy as he pulls back to stare at your puffy lips, the way your wet lashes flutter— and his stomach flips hard.

“Take off your shirt,” Rintaro breathes out into the tenseness of the air, “pants too.” Whatever you want to say next is interrupted by the way Atsumu breathes out a hoarse ‘bro’, and you stare at your big brother with utter mortification written all over your face. You shake his hands off of you and reach up to slap him hard across the cheek— though not nearly hard enough to knock him out of his love-drunk haze; and he’s grabbing at you and pulling you closer towards the firepit.

“Rintaro, no! Stop it, stop!” You cry as you’re hauled into clearer view and he manhandles you down onto the ground, with his body on top of you. “Stop being so weird, I wanna go home!” you can only squeak, and beg as your glossy eyes spill over into thick tears. “I did as you asked, now let me go~!” It’s with almost nauseating regret that he feels his cock stir hard in his jeans at the sight, the touching and blubbering panic crossing your pretty features.

“Rintaro, people will hear.” Aran softly speaks from the side, the twins rendered entirely quiet too.

But he— can’t let this chance go, can he? He loves you, loves you so fucking much it makes him sick. After years of longing and regret, you can’t possibly blame him. Your pitiful whining dies down almost instinctively when he kisses you again, claiming your mouth and cheeks and down your neck with hot panting, and grabs your upper arms to heave himself above you. “Come on, just trust me. Please. Big brother will take care of you.”

“No!” Your pretty cheeks are wet with tears by the time he takes a moment to look at you, really look at you. You’re halfway towards bawling your eyes out in his arms, clinging so desperately to him that the realization punches him in the belly hard enough to quiet him. Tongue tied. He’s immediately flooded by the weight of his actions, apologetic or not, loosening the grip he has on you just enough for you to take a sniffled breath and push yourself from the floor. You punch him hard in the chest, and run your hand under your nose to wipe away the snot and tears there, then get up entirely.

“I hate you, you’re such a dick! All of you.” You bite out through your tears, wobbly on your shaky legs. His mouth drops open, and suddenly he’s never felt more guilt in his whole life— he is so sorry, so, so, sorry— but before he can say anything of use, you’re turning on your heel, and marching out of their presence.

It wasn’t his stupid bet. It wasn’t him who noticed your infatuation with him first, it was them, it was his friends- his stupid friends— but- “Wait,” Rintaro manages to mumble, barely adible. But Osamu’s the first to move. Or rather -the only one not frozen in the absolute chaos of the moment- calling your name and gently jogging towards you as you disappear towards the far end of the quiet park.

Rin.

You don’t hate him anymore, do you? It’s been years, so he’s sure you can’t. He’s been patient. And apologetic, too. Penitent.

It’s definitely a few hours past midnight when he rolls over to meet warm skin, arm curling subconsciously around the heat. He lets out a long, heavy breath, burying deeper into the soft blanket. Before sharp eyes open again and zero in on the shape before him, no longer alone in the spare bed.

“Rin nii,” you whisper, looking ever so attentive.

He’s cold and warm all at once. “It’s the middle of the night,” his voice comes out heavier and a bit raspy as he pulls back his hand, “go back to bed.” You don’t acknowledge it, but are quick to tangle your fingers with his again despite his hesitation.

“Osamu says we should talk-”

“-we can talk in the morning,” Rin snaps back, staring at your face. It’s harsh, but … he’s well aware of his faults by now. And doing his best not to long for more is so much harder when you’re pressed close to him and look at him like he hung the moon in the sky. Truth is, he doesn’t trust himself anymore. Because he knows that if given the chance, he’d do everything Osamu did and then some— kiss your pretty lips until you run out of air and choke on his love. The silence remains thick between you two, your smaller hand squeezing tight around his. He’s really not sure how it happens, but you manage to shuffle close enough to take up his entire world, your legs tangled with his long limbs without hesitation. And you take a deep breath.

“I love you.” Rintaro’s pretty sure he’s lucid dreaming when you say it, whisper it like it’s a well kept secret; and don’t shy away from him when he leans in to hover his lips over yours. “Samu says we should make up, for his sake.” He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it, but he nods anyway, barely sane as he stays right in place. Smiling, because he must be. A lunatic. Pining for his little sister like a first class Oedipus complex. “Are you sorry?” you ask, and he answers genuinely— because if nothing else, he loves you too much to care about perception.

“Always.” This too, is the truth. “I shouldn’t want you, but I do. I hate it.”

“I -” you start, and loop an arm around his neck to draw him even closer, “I wanted you first.” Everything goes a little crooked in his head. Palms clammy, he grips your hip with his free hand, and nose to nose, you let him pull you in more. Even daring to break the silence, heavy lashes fluttering with your words. “I don’t want you to leave anymore, niichan.” And then there’s a kiss. A hard kiss, grabbing your cheeks and pulling you in, immediately moving you to get pinned below him. With tongue and teeth, you two melt together as you whine and moan, and send him into a spiral even more than before.

“Always showing me what I can’t have,” Rintaro grunts as you tangle your fingers into the base of his hair, threading through it as you let him take you— wrap your thighs around his glutes. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” The kiss grows deeper, more intense, as he heaves his weight above you and presses you into the pillows, entire body hot and cold all at once. You’re so sweet under him, clinging to his wide shoulders as you give yourself to him and roll your hips against his. A soft ‘more’ is moaned against his lips, something he gladly gives into, pulling away to rid himself of the shirt making him overheat, and shoving his shorts down.

Then he's back to your mouth, and moaning your name into it, sucking on your tongue and squeezing your cheeks like he can’t possibly be close enough to you. His wiry body is wrapped entirely to swallow you up whole, strong thighs against your soft ones, your chest rising and falling against his, and an entirely new sort of noise falling from you as he goes between kissing you and nipping down your neck with greedy love bites. “You’re so- hmh, fucking beautiful; you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” He pants against your neck as his cock swells in his boxers, pushing hard against the stretchy fabric and against your pelvic area and leaving him a trembling mess.

Like he’s a giddy teen all over again, you leave him sweating and too eager to really think. Hands come to squeeze your tits, all the years of pent up tension pouring into the kisses and words he lays on your skin, and you let him. Let all his doubt melt away into you as you kiss him again too, and moan for your big brother like you’ve never done before. He’s had the pleasure and punishment of hearing your noises plenty before, and not once were you like this. So vocal, desperately withering beneath his hands as they slide up your top and suck on your pebbled nipples.

Your hips buck against his hard cock until he can’t take another second, and crawls back to shove his boxers down his thighs. His heavy cock is leaking pre and glossy at the tip as it bounces between his legs, and his entire body feels electric when you moan loud and needy at the sight. “Niichan, please.” His ego glows bright in the darkness, at your coaching, and the way you’re desperately trying and failing to pull him closer. It’s cute. You’re cute. And also so fucking quick to follow suit and shuffle out of your panties it kinda shocks him, his balls feeling heavy and needy too.

He rolls your nipple between his fingers a few times, before sliding his big hands along your body down and overy your raised mound, and puffy lips of your wet -really fucking wet- pussy to stare. “G-od, please, nii nii, I want you. I love you,” you babble as you so hopelessly beg him to get closer, but the way your pussy glistens in the low light of the room is too much to ignore.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he coos, and chuckles in disbelief as his fingers find no resistance upon pushing into your clenching, sloppy cunt like he’s been dreaming of for years. “You wanted your big brother’s cock this bad? Hm?” Your head bps up and down honestly, tears glistening at your lash line while you curl in the blankets, and he doesn’t hold back from gripping his cock hard and wiping the head along your slit until your wetness coats him entirely. You feel so fucking good— it’s criminal. He’s already halfway to coming just from touching you like this, grabbing your chest to suck there impatiently. He lets out a long hum when you curl your arms around his head and sucks hard on your nipples, moving between the two of them to kiss and bite at his sister’s tits.

“Always want you, Rin. Even when you…” you go quiet, before biting your lip hard, “I still w-want you. Does that make me crazy?”

He’s back nose to nose when he pulls back to look at you proper, and the way you’re about to cry, cunt kissing the head of his cock and distracting him from full sentences. “No, you’re- it’s not. You’re my girl, ‘kay? Agh, you’re your big brother’s body t-to use. Give me a kiss.” You moan into it as he pulls you up against his body more, positioning you so that your cunt drools onto his cock and the hot, flushed head of it is able to rock against your needy pussy. His fat, heavy cock slips in while you’re saying his name, and makes his head go light and body go tingly.

You’re so fucking tight. So wet and sloppy all for him, and he groans long and deep as he pulls you down all the way onto his cock and fat balls with a slow pull. He can’t help it, his little sister’s just so fucking pretty taking his cock deep into your belly. Has him humping against you without much control, rhythm animalistic as he stuffs you full of cock with each hard pump. The sharp sting of his hip bones into your supple skin is enough to have you crying out, dutifully holding your hands to his broad shoulders with your head buried deep into his neck. It rattles the bed hard and obnoxious, and he doesn’t give a fuck.

Let Samu wake up, it’s all his fault anyways. All the noise and stimulation of his cock head nudging against your spongy spot has you trying to blink back tears, mouth cracked open and lips so puffy and pretty. Your cunt’s sucking on his cock like it’s enchanted, needing more and more and more. And Rintaro’s all too glad to give. “Rin nii, Rinta—” you whisper, choking your little breaths down and pushing back to meet his thrusts, tits bouncing with the motions.

“Fuck, baby sister, that’s it. Your pussy’s so fuck—ing good, s’tight. Takes me so- ugh, ah, so well.” He pulls your hips up into him to force his cock even deeper inside you, your gushing walls clinging to his pretty cock tighter than he can handle. Your body arches and trembles below him too, he can tell by the way you’re trying and failing to hang on more with his coaching, mewling incoherent pleas as your pussy gushes around him. “My little sister likes being stuffed full of cock? Like getting that needy pussy stretched by her nii nii, hm?” ‘Yes, yes,’ you babble over and over again, thighs sinking a little lower to tilt your hips into his thrusts.

This way his spongy, sensitive head bumps so perfectly up against your spot each time he fills you that it’s impossible to think straight. Let alone respond properly, barely aware he’s asked you anything at all. He can’t blame you, close enough to come with every single motion of his hips meeting yours. Each thump of the bed frame rattling as it hits the wall. “God, fuck, I’m fucking my little sister. ‘M so sorry. So fucking— shit, ahg-fuck.”

“Rintaro, rintaro, I’m close,” you breathe into a kiss you force onto him, taking his cheeks between both hands to pull him back to you and feel his balls slap against your ass, and strong thighs straining as he fucks into you again. “I want my big brother to make me cum.”

“Yeah, you wanna get this pretty belly filled with my cum?” He presses one hand between your bodies to your belly to push down on it, tightening the space around his cock even more and making him groan. Your cunt’s clenching around his dick so hard it’s making him lightheaded. Hair sticks to his face as he grips your face to slide his tongue into your mouth, and put all his devotion into showing you. Again, all you can do is bite your lip and moan, rolling your hips back right when he thrusts all the way back inside your ring of muscles. He only speeds the rhythm up when you don’t answer, laying down onto your body to bite the crook of your neck with a grunt. “Tell me, c’mon, fucking tell me. I wanna hear it.”

“Ah, I want my— b-big brother to cum in me,” you whimper at his hot breath on your neck and sticky skin molding with yours as his hips pound into you and his cock forces open your desperate walls. “Feels so good, so big, -ah- please. Gonna cum, g’na cum~ niichan.” He takes a deep breath at that, lifting himself off you and one hand coming to wrap around your throat to hold you for leverage, squeezing just right at the sides. It’s so perfect, the coil in your belly ready to snap so hard. You dangle on the edge of orgasm long enough to make your eyes roll back into your head. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah, cream all over my cock. You’re gonna milk me for every last bit of nii nii’s cum, that’s it.” You try to nod in his hold, but you’re being bounced on his cock so hard at this point that the blood’s rushing between your ears and deafening you. All that’s left is your needy body pushing back onto his cock and shaking when he sneaks his other hand between your legs to rub at your clit hard and precisely, with tiny circles right on the puffy, glossy nub. “Cum so that I can fill this pretty, cumdump pussy with my seed, baby. Come on. Cum. You’ll make me a daddy, right?” he hisses, squeezing harder and letting you see stars over your closed eyelids, pussy fluttering around him and pulling him back inside with each wet ‘pap’. “Say it,” he grunts.

“Yes, yes, I wan’it,” your voice rises in pitch each word with the relentless rubbing of your puffy clit, before your back arches entirely and you reach back to claw at his thighs as your orgasm hits you. His fingers don’t stop for a second as you cry out. “Ha-hng, big brother, big bru~dder! Want your cum, want Rin nii’s hot cum filling me up, please! Please- niichan!” His rhythm goes even faster, balls smacking to your dripping pussy and cock stretching you out so pretty.

You’re so pretty for him, shaking on his cock as he fucks you through it, and kisses your face for a few more thrusts before he cums with a choked grunt of your name, fucking hot ropes of white into your gushing cunt. With a low, choked grunt he pulls out and slides three of his fingers in instead to keep your clenching pussy nice and plugged up, and keeping every drop of cum right where it belongs. And though he can tell you’re tired, you still take the time to brush your fingers along his cheek, and look up at him. “Love y’ nii nii. I forgive you.”

“I love you too,” he mumbles back, on his knees and suddenly exhausted too. The door squeaks just barely as Rin allows the moment to break and turns over his shoulder. To look at the hall and the face peeking into the room with an unimpressed, tired glance between the two of you. “Yer both so fuckin’ loud, fuck.” He gives the man a quick look of something resembling understanding though, and waves his hand as he disappears back into the master bedroom across the hall. “An’ yer fuckin’ welcome.”

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