#somebody was sweating while editing

[esthercore]

Thinking of older Fatui men with a young, promiscuous and insatiable lover (Genshin Edition) 18+

Featuring: Dottore, Pantalone, Capitano, Pierro

Cw: Dumbification. free use, exhibitionism, cock warming, tiny body worshipping, pet play, throat training, dacraphyllia

★ ⋮ Dottore ⸝⸝

Is somebody gonna match my freak? No, cause he's ten times worse then whatever the fuck you are.

On the counter, on his table, in his lab, in front whatever abominations he's working on, in the Sumerian Forest to relive his younger years and traumatizing all the aranara, yes sir, you two being fucking 24/7, you wanna be a needy little bitch, my my, he would love to indulge.

Now, he can't exactly just stop his work but that doesn't mean you gotta stop, just lap his balls like a good lil pup, and warm it while he work. And don't you dare try to retreat when somebody walks in his lab, nuh uh, you gotta do your job like a good baby, and focus on him and his cock.

Big on dumbification too, you wanna be little whore and give him those fuck me eyes 24/7? You wanna be a shameless slut humping on his leg when he's working cause you just need it so bad?

Silly thing, you are just asking for trouble aren't ya, getting the big scary doctor addicted to your insatiablilty, unable to focus on his work without his baby pleasing.

God how much he hate when you are doing something else than focus solely on him, and he equally hate when his darling is sad, but he is at the end of the day Dottore, so of course he won't deal with his worries normally.

So, hitting to birds with one stone, he will make sure one way or other to make you his personal fleshlight, constantly pleasuring him and since no thoughts except cock, no sad darling.

Though the jerk sometimes will deny you pleasure or outright attention if he wants in the mood to spice things up. Will lick stains you tears after you fall asleep after crying.

Oh, and despite all the agents in his faction being uncomfortable with the blatant shamelessness of their Boss, and the struggle they go through to not catch a glance of naked you in between his legs, cause that would just lead to their beheading, at least they are grateful that you being there makes him at least a bit rational.

★ ⋮ Pantalone ⸝⸝

Oh he digs it, definitely the type keep you as his sugar baby, his pretty eye candy he likes to stay on his lap during his meetings. Dressing you up in the prettiest jewels and the softest fabrics, his sweet sweet status symbol.

Loves just being with you 24/7, you make up as a fine entertainment, having you hanging around his arm, groping you in front of whoever's talking to him, shamelessly if they are someone below in rank or discreetly if he respect the other person in front of him. But never showing much of your skin, although he loves to show off his darling, their precious body is only for him to savor.

And also the type to not mind if you have a promiscuous reputation, finds it cute even, you are a trained and experienced one, so that just means better quality, might even tease you about, if he can get a good reaction.

But, that doesn't mean he likes when someone else, especially your ex hook ups point it out, especially if you don't like that. The business smile on his face will remain the same except he will have that anime villain black aura around him, that make the latter super uncomfortable. Don't sweat your pretty head if you later found that person wailing in the northern bank, just focus on your lover.

Big on cock warming too, except instead of oral like Dottore he likes to use your warm holes. Not a big fan on keeping you on the floor, kneeling in front of him, you are his treasure, you deserve to be in equal standing. Sometimes during his break he like to lift you to his table, and pleasure you orally, savoring your taste for a good while, as a thank you for keeping him company.

★ ⋮ Capitano ⸝⸝

For the captain it's just another one of your cute traits, his needy little lover he likes to take everywhere. Now especially a much younger lover will make Capitano extra protective of them, hence being the only one who will find your insatiably a bit worrisome, especially concerned with how much he could indulge due to being extremely well endowed down below.

Now unlike the other three, his work is out in the battle fields, and heavy expeditions, and normally he would prefer to keep you tucked in Snezhnaya, but insatiable darling is a special case, where he can't just leave them alone with no one to pleasure which means, he just have you travel with him, wherever he goes next, having at least 10 fatui members as your body guard 24/7, and him carrying you princess style, on his back, whatever fits wherever the carriages during the travels can't go, cause fucking him is a goodbye to your legs.

Now back to Capitano's big dick problem, this man loves to use your mouth, but his dick is so hard to fit in! So before travelling with you, back in Snezhnaya he had you warm his cock for prolonged amount of time, slowly increasing the length everyday, so your throat can accommodate his monster of a cock, till you can deepthroat like a pro!

Also likes to pleasure you with his mouth and fingers, stretching you out before every session, despite how much experienced you are, because his cock will hurt, and he can't have his little darling in pain, that just ruin his own pleasure.

But, that's Capitano on a normal day, cause behind the gentle boyfriend persona, there's a devious monster, which comes out when the adrenaline kicks in, especially after a battle, the second he sees you, he's ripping your clothes up, plowing you like a rice farmer, with his tongue shoved down your throat. This isn't jut sex anymore, it's your lover's need to be deeper inside you, as a person, as if he wanna fuck your soul, desperate to have you in his eternity.

Kinda likes exhibitionism too, gets super flustered if you point out the soldiers outside your tent could probably hear you getting railed and then start fucking you even harder, blessing them with your pretty moans.

No one brings up your past or your inability to walk for few days after they heard you moaning loud enough to wake a village like a chicken, out of respect for the captain.

★ ⋮ Pierro ⸝⸝

He's too old and grumpy to keep up with your bullshit. Try to flirt with him in front of someone and he smack your head. No he's not blushing! Don't point it out, he has he reputation to keep up.

Out of everyone on this list, Pierro will be the one most embaressed to have a lover like this. He has never been the type to around, always been a straight forward man, focused on his work, ethics and goals, even during his days before Khanneria fell. So now having to deal with you it trully is overwhelming for the old man.

Now that doesn't mean he hates it, this man is a simp in heart for real-for real, he just don't know how to show it and has a big enough ego to not try, so yeah, he's tsundere granpa.

Not a big fan of people talking about your reputation, that just pisses him off, you might have a past, but now you are entirely his, and if someone dares mention it, they will disappear from the face of Tevyat.

Also cause grandpa, he fucks the least in the list, but when he doesss. The man fucks nasty, like a rabid animal, making up for all the denial, 10/10 eyes rolling, multiple orgasms, thighs weakening, throat drying by how much he make you scream.

Likes to degrade you for being a desperate whore, calling you mean names till you cry, only to fuck you harder when he start seeing your tears, god this man loves those tears.

Big on pet play too, like calling you his dumb bunny, telling you how you are as simple minded as an animal, as you mouth his dick, earning you a smack as your teeth graze his cock. Once he starts coming out of his shell, he like to keep you in a collar, sometimes even adding a collar to your neck, and just look at you or drag you around.

| Tell me suggestions for other men who fit in this trope (current list: (Genshin) Zhongli, Neuvillette; (HSR) Welt, Blade, Jing Yuan)

[s-4pphics]

click! 4 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 6.7k 

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black, angst… these hoes toxic, crazy sexual tension, kissing!!! :), fondling, dry humping, fingering!!, some dirty talk uh oh, slight unrequited love, bad communication… like awful, more slut shaming, mentions of awful parents, brief mention of alc and weed

This eucalyptus face mask is not doing what it’s supposed to! 

Ultimate calming effect! Relaxation is at your feet and on your face! 

… Yeah, right. Why is your blood pressure touching the ceiling, then? 

It’s fucking Sunday and it’s dark outside. It’s not even seven yet. You can hear rustling in the living room and you know Ellie’s prepping for today. Your anxiety is through the roof and in the clouds! 

Why the fuck did you accept this much responsibility again? What if you look like a fucking idiot and she fires you? Is this even a job if it’s a one-time thing? Your hands are sweating. Is it too late to jump out your window and plummet to your death?

Meow! Meow! 

“Good morning, baby girl! Are you hungry?” You hear Ellie coo through the wall and your heart sores. You'd be smiling so wide if this mask wasn’t solid concrete. 

You walk into the living room and are blinded by the bright ceiling lights. Your bill is going to skyrocket! 

“Hi.” 

Ellie, cat in arms, jumps at your voice, spinning to face you. Your skin is on fire as her eyes glaze over your appearance, cheeks tinting and fingers twitching under the thick fur. 

“Hey… you look… you look nice,” She mutters back, and you smile. 

“Thank you.” 

Meow!

Ellie’s brow arches at the baby. “Yeah? You think so, too?” 

Meow! Meow!

Ellie sets her down and lets her roam, shoving her hands into her sweats. She takes a step closer. “What’re we gonna name her?” 

“Toothle— “

Ellie rolls her eyes, “Oh my god, that’s so fucking basic.”

“Well, excuse me! I’ll shut the fuck up!” You snark playfully, “What were you thinking, Ms. I don’t fuck with animals?”

“I already told yo— “

“AHT, AHT!” You hold a finger up to hush her and she scoffs, “Toothless is one of the best animated characters of our time! Loyal, cute as fuck! Fuck everybody else in that movie! Show the drag—”

“Pickle.” 

“What.” 

“I’ve been calling her Pickle! Her name is pickle.” Ellie’s smiling at the pattering kitten, and, for some reason, you don’t fight her on it. She looks so happy; Pickle it is. 

She’s clicking her tongue at Pickle who rubs against her covered leg. With those gray sweats on, she’s luring two cats over—

“You ready?” Ellie exhales. Your eyes widen, yanked out of your drifting thoughts. You nod gently, jitters kicking in your fingertips. 

“Sorry you had to wake up this early. It takes a while for me to edit and all that, but— “

“Ellie, don’t worry! I’m — I’m excited! Just, uh… Just guide me, I guess. You’re the one with the vision.” You’re not sure if the shoot or Ellie is making you nervous. She smells so good, freshly showered and warmth radiating off of her. 

“… Guide you?” She smirks. 

Suddenly, the air is hot. “Yeah, like… tell me what to do… f-for the shot.” You awkwardly point at the set. 

“Giving me permission to use you?” She wisps and your lashes flutter, head bobbing dumbly in approval. The other cat has made her appearance! She’s meowing! Somebody stop her! 

“Alright, then… go sit.” Ellie’s head nods towards the black stool in the middle of the backdrop, and you’re moving like a trackstar, plopping down on the stool. Ellie clicks her tongue again and Pickle meows. 

“Gonna put her in my room for now. Don’t wanna scare her.” She scoops Pickle up and waddles into the short hallway, giving kit-kat one last kiss before softly shutting her door. 

Your catless roomie is in front of you in an instant, fiddling with that big ass umbrella before adjusting her tripod. 

“So, explain. What does all this do?” 

“Um…” she looks through her camera lense. Right at you, “Different things. Has to do with light control for the most part. Red is your color, by the way.” 

You gaze at your fit; You’re going to cry. “Thanks.” 

“Mhm.” 

Some silence passes before Ellie grumbles, “You’re slouching.” 

Your shoulders instantly straighten. Maybe too much, “No, I’m not.” 

A blank look from Ellie as she peeks from behind the lense, “Don’t slouch. You’re the star, remember?” She jabs jokingly. You take a deep breath. Another clumsy adjustment trying to find a pose. 

Ellie snorts as she watches you struggle, and you pout. “I'm sorry! I don’t know…” You move like a robot and she laughs. Why is she walking closer? Oh, fuck— 

“Here.” Her hands grab your shoulders, and you go lax, right in her grasp, allowing her to move you however she wants. Her touch is melting your skin through your sleeves. 

“Just… stay there.” Three wide steps, and she’s behind her camera, “Chin down a little.” She mutters. She’s encouraging with every instruction you follow, and you’re relaxing. Your movements are small, but by the series of bright flashes, they must be good enough to capture. You hope. Please, God. 

“Stay right there. That’s perfect.” 

“That’s it. Yeah, put your leg there.” 

“Twist your body a little.” 

I like that look, that’s good. Keep doing that. 

You don’t know what your eyes are doing, but Ellie's eating it up. She doesn’t know what her words are doing for your confidence. She’s in your ears, in your presence, encouraging everything you’re giving the flashing camera. Your poses get bolder, eyes going softer the more you inspect her. 

“Chin down again. Like… look through your lashes…” 

Ellie’s so focused on you and it’s making your mouth water. She’s so calm and controlling, but not overbearing. She lets you take the reins and yanks them when she’s got something. The twist of your wrist, the flutter of your lashes, the doting expression on your face. It’s sparking something in her, you can see it from where you sit. She's so attractive when she’s working. 

And then she smiles and your heart leaps. Flash. 

“You like this.” She notes. 

Another flash when you smile, “A little. This is fun.” 

“Oh, yeah? I’m getting booked for your grad pics?” 

Not if you fail statistics! “Gonna have to ask my dad! He’s picky!” 

She hums with a light chuckle. “You look good in these. He’ll like me.” 

More flashes, and there’s scratching at Ellie’s door. She sighs like it pains her to continue, “Hold on, baby! Almost done!” She coos at Pickle. 

She mutters, “I’m gonna take, like… ten more. The mood’s gonna change a little if that’s cool.” 

You stop yourself from slouching. “Sure, uh… what do I do now?” 

“Imagine love as a vice. Think about the turmoil that comes with losing that feeling for somebody.” 

Your mind instantly whirls to Dina and your heart cracks. What a turn of fucking events! 

“Um… is that like… isn’t that like, a lot?” 

Ellie’s unfazed, “Emotions are a lot. That’s the point.” 

You don’t like this anymore. Vulnerability. Blegh. “… Okay.” 

She’s waiting on you, but you’re frozen. You can’t stop thinking about every moment you and Dina spent together. Everything was so… good. It was filled with happiness. You anticipated every day that came because it meant you’d see her. 

“Alright?” 

You look up at Ellie’s call. You ignore her. 

“Am I emoting well?” You snicker sarcastically. You’re aching inside. 

She studies you, all over your face, but you’re stunted. You don’t know what to say.

“Yes.” She whispers, and you nod, mind wandering to the darkest parts of your memory. You miss being happy. The camera’s flashing, but you’re unperturbed. How much will you be able to ruin before you die? If your wallowing is jeopardizing the shot, Ellie doesn’t comment on it. You focus on the clock ticks coming from the kitchen. 

Ellie’s gentle voice pulls you from underwater after a while, “Okay… I think that’s it.” Your breath is ragged and your fingers won’t stop twitching. You’re up from your seat with a breathy okay, sliding into the kitchen and stealing a water bottle from the fridge. There’s cluttering behind you but you’re desperately downing your drink. 

She's closer than you think. Right behind you, actually! You almost choke when her hand softly closes around your bicep.

“Hey, um… You okay?”

You swallow harshly and nod, blinking away tears; She’s so close, “Love fucking sucks.” You joke wetly. 

A laugh that caresses your ears escapes her, “Damn. Fuck that shit, then.” 

“Finally, someone gets it! Fuck, like…” You set your water down and wipe away heavy droplets with your free arm. Ellie’s eyes travel over your face, lands of green sparkling in her pupils. 

“I really appreciate you doing this for me.” She whispers. 

“Of course!” Your smile is delicate, “I hope there’s something in there you can use.” 

Her head shakes, smile as gentle as rose petals, “I got it, trust me.” 

The silence that follows is heavy, your breaths in sync. “Was… Are you okay?” You’ve never seen her eyes this delicate. You nod, eyes dropping to her mouth on instinct. You’re suddenly back in your car, you and Ellie leaning over the center console to get to each other. Her breath is hitting your face again, and you’re itching for her to kiss you. 

She’s reading your body language the closer she gets, checking in, memorizing every green light you’re giving her. 

“Ellie…” You can’t even hear yourself. Her hand unravels from your arm, frosting your sizzling cheek like snowflakes. Her warmth is engulfing you, and with one last breath, her lips connect with yours. It's short lasting, though. Ellie pulls away, shock plastered on her face. 

She's stuttering and slowly backing away… or something like that. You’re not listening, nor do you want an apology. You grab the drawstring dangling from her gray hoodie and yank her closer, mouth pressing against hers. 

Ellie’s stiffness melts, weightless against you as your mouths mold together. She's sighing, arm wrapping around your waist, warmth simmering between your closed bodies. Your arms wrap around her neck as she inches forward, small steps until you're pressed against the marble. 

The kiss is slow and steady. You both give in to each other, studying, memorizing every inch of her mouth. Gentle smacks sound in the silent space of the kitchen, clammy hands traveling anywhere they can reach: the nape of her neck, massages on your hips, steadying your stumbles as you push against her. Your fingers inch upwards until they're at her sloppily done bun, loosening the hair tie and pulling as gently as you can, soft strands wrapping around your digits like vines. 

Ellie’s humming and her hips push against you, so you pull again, smiling gently into the kiss. She pushes again, harder this time, hips languid as they trap you against the counter. Your thighs widen for her, and she takes the lead, hands digging into your thighs and lifting you onto the granite. 

The kiss turns desperate swiftly after, Ellie’s tongue pushing past your mouth, her hands slowly pulling your tucked shirt from your pants. You’re biting at her lip, caressing her thighs over her sweats, trapping her between your legs, keeping her close. 

One last wet smack and you’re traveling down her jaw to the side of her neck, littering kisses all over her burning skin. You try not to make your inhales too obvious, but you can’t help it. Her scent drives you up a wall. 

She follows your lead, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, sucking the skin, lightly scratching at the skin on your hips. She yanks you closer, nearly sitting you on top of her, ass barely on the counter—

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

You both jolt like you’ve been caught, a thin line of spit connecting your bottom lips. 

“Expecting someone?” She mumbles dazedly, and you silently deny. “Are you?” 

“Be serious.” She says flatly. 

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! 

The pounds on the door aren’t shit to Ellie, apparently; Her lips are back on you in a second. A gasp surges through you, “Oh, fuck! What if someone saw Pickle and they’re tryna— “

“She’ll be fine,” she whines between suckles on your throat. 

You whimper wantonly, but the knocks get aggressive. It has to be Carol! You don’t want Ellie to stop, but you push her.

“E—Ellie— “

She releases you with an annoyed huff, giving you enough room to hop off the counter. Scratches and meows alert you once more, and you run to the front door, whisper-yelling to Ellie, “Hide Pickle! Hide her!”

“Okay, okay, damn,” She sighs in annoyance, heading back down the hallway. You can hear Ellie’s soft shushes to the kitty, meows swiftly replaced with purrs. You think Pickle has chosen her favorite parent. 

You yank the door open and your heart plummets. 

“Hey, uh… hi.” Abby’s voice cracks and her nose is glowing red. Your heart pulls in your chest at the sight of her soft eyes. 

“Hi, Abby,” You say softly. She shyly peers at her feet. “How are you?”

A soft smile spreads across her face, “I’m not here to talk about me, I wanna apologize. I, um… I wanted to call but I thought I’d do it in person.” 

“No need. I’m sorry, to— “

But Abby isn’t having it, dropping onto one knee in the middle of the complex hallway, taking your hand in hers, “Oh, how I treated Thee, for I am full of regret. What do I owe Thou the pleasure of forgiveness?” 

You holler laughter, “Bitch, is that a question? What the fuck do I say to that.” 

“… I actually don’t know, what the fuck— “

“You’re actually the fucking worst, get up,” You’re pulling your friend to her feet and wrapping your arms around her neck, pressing light kisses to her cheek. She lifts you and carries you inside, kicking the door shut. 

“Was it Carol?” 

You barely hear your roommate from behind you. Abby sets you down, and you’re met with a… blank Ellie. This version of her is almost unfamiliar. 

“Hm?”

“Was,” Her eyes flicker towards your friend, “Was it Carol?” Your eyes flicker to Abby, confused as ever. 

“Um, no, thank God, right?” You laugh awkwardly, “Ellie, this is Abby. Abby, this is Ellie, my new roomie.” 

Abby slaps on her signature smile, extending her hand in greeting, “Nice to meet you. I heard a lot.”

Ellie’s eyes flicker between Abby’s hand and her face, eyes squinted. She only nods before murmuring to you, “Pickle’s fed. Lock the door if you leave.” 

Your mouth drops, but before you can say anything, Ellie’s door slams shut, lock clicking, barricading herself, shut off from the outside. Pickle scurries into your open space at the noise. A stunned Abby finally drops her hand and turns to you with an expression reading I told you so. Your heart jolts and it’s painful. 

“C’mon,” Abby coos, hands massaging your shoulders, “I owe you pancakes.” 

You try to smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Not like it should at the mention of a free meal. For some reason, you feel guilty. 

IHOP needs to have their holiday menus all year round; These cinnamon roll pancakes are fucking lethal! You shoved your platter down and already want seconds. Abby’s too sweet to you. 

“Abby.” 

“Hm?” She gnaws at her turkey bacon. 

“I’m in a predicament.” 

“What’s the matter.” 

“I think I like Ellie.” 

Your friend pauses before sighing, “Alright. So, what’s the plan?” 

“To die, I think. That’s the only plan.” 

“Don’t say that,” she chuckles. You shrug. 

“We made out and I liked it,” You whisper, “Like, a lot.” 

“Did y’all smash?” You shake your head. 

“Are you gonna tell her?” 

You scoff, “Did you miss the part where I said to die? I’d rather die. She hates my fucking guts all over again.” 

“I don’t think she does.” 

“You don’t know her, Abby— “

“I know a jealous munch when I see one,” She smirks, “I was one for a long time.” 

Your jaw drops, “Really? With who?” 

She grins, but it doesn’t meet her eyes, “Don’t worry about it.” 

You pout. Why didn’t she tell you?! Poor thing. You place a comforting hand on top of hers.

“Promise to tell me before graduation. I need some shit to look forward to.” 

“Like you’re gonna remember.” 

“Fuck off! I never forget anything!” 

“Yeah, anyway, your roomie was jealous— “

Your shoulders drop and your eyes roll. Ellie and jealousy? Together? Bullshit. Tomfoolery. Fake news. 

“Abby, I can't tell her— “

“Can’t or won’t?” Abby arches a brow, “You know what you do and don’t want. You’re creating stupid rules that combat your feelings and wonder why you end up hurt. Cut it out.” 

… Either face your fears of abandonment or die alone. Interesting ultimatum. You choose the latter. 

“You’re very easy to read, believe it or not. You like her. Accept it or move on,” Abby mumbles around her extra-crispy hash brown. 

You sigh. You’ve accepted it a long time ago; That's the issue. The only thing that can help you right now is more fucking cinnamon roll pancakes. Abby better leave this apology tab open. 

You’re hit with the usual warmth of the apartment the second you step in, finding Ellie on the couch with her feet kicked up, mindlessly fiddling with your favorite pen. Her silence makes your skin crawl; You never know what she’s thinking. 

“So, what,” You shrug, setting your to-go bag on the counter, “Are you just gonna pout or are we gonna have an adult conversation?” 

“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” She mumbles. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means what it sounds like. You’re fucking immature and inconsiderate.” 

Your heart nearly stops, “I’m— “

She slices through your words, “Save that I don’t know what you mean bullshit for someone else. If you and that bitch are still fucking, why the fuck did you kiss me?” 

Her accusation makes you snap, “First of all, I haven’t fucked Abby in weeks! And even if I did, that’s none of your fucking business! I can do whatever the fuck I want and I don’t need to explain myself to you! And you kissed me first so don’t start!” 

A grin grows on Ellie face, head tipping back onto the couch as she laughs to herself, sighing in disbelief, “I never thought I would regret a kiss so much in my fucking life, oh my god.” 

You scoff, ignoring the sudden ache in your chest, “Fuck you.” 

“You want to.” 

You hate how heat builds in your stomach, “I want to?” You snark, “You shoved your tongue in my mouth a few hours ago. You want to. Don’t fucking piss me off.” 

You stomp to your room before Ellie can say anything above her laughter. Your door slams and you pace across your small room. You ignore the stress building deep in your joints; The term is almost over. You don’t need this fucking bullshit on your back right now! 

To think you and Ellie were starting to get on good terms. If she wants to play that game, then fine; You’ve mastered the sport at this point! The kiss meant nothing to you either!

You hope her Christmas is fucking awful and she finds nothing but a pile of fucking rocks in her marijuana sock. What a cunt—

Meow! Meow!

Your heart pulls at the small scratches at your door. You need your baby to give you some love since a certain someone won’t. Pickle calls out until you open the door, but your sad smile disappears at the sight of that someone propped against your door frame. 

“She wanted her mommy.” Ellie nods down at the kitten rubbing against your leg. 

“Fuck you.” You spit. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you!” You shout and lean closer, but she doesn’t seem threatened. That same sparkle in her eye is back, and, suddenly, your body’s flaming for another reason. The tip of her nose twitches, once, twice, three times, and you refuse to hold back any longer. 

You grab her face and kiss her. Kiss her as hard as you can. She’s so fucking aggravating; Why can’t she ever mind her fucking business? You’re sick of her clocking your pussy! The kiss is hot and quick and it sends vibrations down to your toes. It’s not until gentle purring fills your ears that you gasp and separate from your roommate. 

You bend down to pick up your little princess. Ellie’s lips reconnect with your neck the second you're upright. “Did she eat?” You mutter. 

“Mhm. Twice.” You nod and kiss her small, furry head, “She’s gonna be scratching at the door.” You ponder to yourself. 

“We’ll make it quick,” She mumbles in between harsh sucks to your throat, nibbles at your lobe. You escape the attention for a split second to grab Pickle’s small toy mouse from your dresser, tossing it down the hall and into the living room. Her small paws skip across the floor as she slides the trinket all over the hardwood. 

“We’re not fucking.” You say harsher than necessary. 

“I didn’t ask.”

You gently shut the door and jump Ellie’s bones, releasing all your pent-up frustration and anger into another kiss. The formerly gentle tugs of her hair are replaced with harsh yanks that expose her throat. Seconds pass and she’s pushing you onto your unmade bed, body bouncing before she climbs on top of you, reconnecting your mouths in the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever shared… It’s doing something to your cooter, though. You’re wet as fuck. 

Ellie’s fully onto top of you, body almost overheating from the layers of clothes between you. Her hips are sharp when they push into yours, swallowing all your stunned gasps and pleasured sighs. Your body is on fire and it’s making you lightheaded, but she feels so good on top. 

Ellie’s cursing against your mouth and she bucks into you, right against the muscle of your thigh, and you just watch the flames spread in her orbs. Not the comforting greenery that you could get lost in for days. The trees are black and surrounded by clustered rubble. She’s grunting against your cheek, her nose hitting yours with every thrust. 

A bold hand creeps between both your bodies and slips right into her wrinkly sweats, beneath her underwear, fingers drenched in seconds. You smirk when she whimpers your name between swears, palming the bud that throbs like a beating heart. Blush tints her cheeks the wetter she gets, pooling in your hand as you grind into her clit. 

Ellie’s cute. You’ll give her that. So, you rub her harder. 

“Agh, fuck, fuck— “

You're snickering to yourself but Ellie doesn’t care. She’s whining like a little bitch and humping you like a dog… 

Does she top? You should ask her after this. Post-nut gay quiz. 

“Finger me, put your— oh shit— “

“Hmm…” You suck your teeth, “Nah.” 

She glares down at you, leaving fiery holes in your cheek, “Don’t f—fucking piss me off right now.” 

You halt all your movements. “That’s all you’ve been doing since you got in this bitch. Shut the fuck up and take what I give you…” You pause, “Or get the fuck off me. Your choice.” 

A full one-eighty, truly. How she goes from looking at you with intent to kill to a wounded puppy in seconds. Poor thing wants a treat. Your entire hand is drenched in her juices; She can wait a little longer. 

“You ate my fucking Doritos.” 

“W—What?” She sounds like she’s going to cry. You can’t stop smiling. 

Slow circles on her clit, and her body wracks on top of you, “The ones I hid in the cabinet… Nasty little thief. Gonna buy me some more?” 

Her breathing is so rapid, “You’re so s—stupid fuck— “ 

“You’re gonna do more than that… gonna show me what’s in that fucking portfolio like you promised.” You whisper, hot against her face. 

This is the strangest dirty talk you’ve ever partaken in, but Ellie’s losing it on top of you. She hasn’t shut up yet. She’s hiding her face in your neck, words vibrating against your skin. You don’t know what she said, so you stop again. She sobs. 

You sound sweeter than candy, “What was that?” 

Ellie doesn’t answer. Just pants into your skin. You pat her clit a few times and she jerks to attention. “I asked you a question.” 

“Feels,” She heaves, “Feels so fucking good— “

“I didn’t ask you that.”

“I’ll show you — fuck, okay? Okay, okay, m’so close— “

Your thumb brushes against her clit, “I wanna see it after you nut.” 

She gasps words miles per minute, “I promise, Ipromise, touch me keep touching me— “

Ellie attempts to grind into your hand once more, but you stretch, slippery fingers sliding lower until the tip of your index catches onto her pulsing hole. You can barely hear, but she’s begging. Thank God you trimmed your nails. 

You push in gently, Ellie’s teeth grazing the skin right underneath your ear. A shiver runs down your spine. She grins before biting down on it. You moan into the boiling air. Your finger gets swallowed by her walls; She’s so fucking tight and soft and she’s clenching with every moan, your thighs squeezing around her hips. 

Ellie continues to grind on top of you, practically riding your finger, her moans increasing in volume. 

“E-Ellie, look at me, sit up—“ She doesn’t hesitate, clammy forehead resting on yours as you stare into her glossy, lustful eyes. They’re fluttering with every deep grind of your arched digit and your heart skips a beat. 

“Gimme one more, stretch me out,” she exhales onto your lips

“Sure?” You breathe. 

She groans, “Yeah, fuck, m’gonna cum when you do— “

“You gotta cute face,” you whisper and giggle when her eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment, middle finger popping past the small entrance 

“Fuck, babe, s’right there— “

Your walls clench at the name. Now you’re whining, “Gimme it. Hurry up so I can play with my kid.” 

“O-Our fucking kid—“ She chokes. 

You hum playfully, “Oddly domestic. Is this what marriage is like? Quickies in the laundry room when the baby’s watching Cocomelon?” 

“No — fuck, do you ever shut the fuck up?” You can’t even move from hard her walls are choking you, “M’cumming, Jesus fucking— son of a— “

Ellie’s walls grip your fingers as she trembles on top of you, lips crashing onto yours as she groans in your mouth, and you smile. You should’ve spit on her tongue, but you held back. She’s not ready. Fucking gremlin. 

Her orgasm rocks her into exhaustion, her body going completely limp on top of you as her hips twitch into your touch. You stare up at the ceiling, mind racing. 

You technically didn’t fuck! Your pussy is quite convincing. You didn’t, but you want to! 

“We didn’t fuck.” You mumble. 

She huffs dryly, voice low. Here comes the goosebumps! “Sure.” 

“We didn’t,” you bemoan and pull out, slick smearing on both your clothes before you present the wet digits in front of your face. Ellie finally lifts her head to join the inspection of your drenched, wrinkly fingers. She smells good. 

“Go wash your hands,” she croaks. 

“Mind your business.” You suck them clean and she snorts, rolling off and onto the bed. You sit up to open the door for Pick-Pick, but Ellie grabs your bicep. 

“What?” 

“You… You don’t want to…?” 

You look around blankly. 

“Do you want me to do something… like an exchange?” 

You’re not sure how to answer, but thankfully, curious meows and light scratching distract the both of you. You’re moving like a robot into the living room, Ellie right on your tail, cooing at the baby who rubs all over her. 

You take a seat on the… lavender-scented cushion. She bought a new freshener. 

“Ellie.” 

“What.” 

“I don’t like you.” 

A scoff from her, “I don’t care.” 

You pause. “… Wanna sniff my punani?” You mock. 

She takes a seat, swiftly followed by Pickle, and turns her head in your direction, lip between her teeth, “Can I?” 

“What.” 

“Just a whiff.” She hums between snickers. The sensors in your brain are on fire. Ellie is so confusing. 

You scratch your ear, stealing her habit, “You… You want to?” 

She grabs your discarded pen from the coffee table, “You want me to?” 

Yes. “No.” 

Ellie nods and continues to fiddle with it, obnoxiously clicking it over and over. She doesn’t fight you on it. How embarrassing. You really need head. 

Your eyes meet your sock-covered feet, “… I was just kidding,” You mumble. 

More pen clicking. “Come here for a second.” Your feet carry you at her grumble, plopping down onto the lavender-scented cushion. New freshener. 

“Is this gonna be… a regular thing?” 

Your head shakes a ton. It most definitely will not. You can’t take your eyes off how Ellie flips her pen. Her hands are bewitching. You need them in your throat again. 

“I think we… just needed to get it out of our system?” You suggest. Unfortunately, it seems neither of you are convinced. 

Pickle climbs up your sweatshirt, head rubbing against your chin. You peck her nose, “Why do you think that.” Ellie asks. 

“I’m not fucking someone I live with.” Your words are blunt, but Ellie doesn’t seem shaken by them. 

“Why.” 

“Because.” You say with finality. 

She sighs, “Because you’re scared of getting your feelings hurt by someone you care about again?” 

The bomb she drops is unexpected, but causes even more damage. Your shoulders immediately tense, on guard, “What the fuck…” How did she…

Ellie winces, “Don’t uh… don’t be mad…” 

“Why the fuck— how do you even know that?” 

“Dina told me.” She blurts and you jump from your seat, glowering at the girl who sheepishly taps her fingers on the couch. 

“The fuck do you mean Dina told you— “

More word-vomit. How long was she holding this shit from you? “S-She was my roommate. She’s the reason I got evicted— “

Your throat is closing, “…Is this a fucking joke?”

Ellie cowers at your tone, “Not really.” 

“When the fuck were you going to tell me that you’re friends with my fucking ex?!”

“We’re not friends!” She says meekly. “And you weren’t official— “

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Ellie! What the fuck!” Your efforts of holding tears back fail, as usual. You’re sick of crying in front of this broad. “She fu—fucking ruined my life!” The stares you get will never fail to make you sick. 

Ellie’s eyes remind you of glass. Breakable. You holler through sniffles, “Is that why you called me a fucking slut! Because that bitch told you some fake ass, fucked-up story about me whoring around campus?!” 

“Dude, I’m— “

“I fucked over the sweetest fucking girl on campus, right? The world’s best fucking pitcher got her heart broken by some low-life fucking artist with no future!” You rant until your breath is short, “I was fucking in love with her! I-I wanted to be with her, I would’ve died for her! I’m— “

Your hands desperately grasp at your chest to get your heart to ease the knocking against your ribcage. 

“You think I-I’m fucking easy, right? That’s why you came onto me earlier? ‘Cuz I’m a fucking whore?! A desperate sl—slut with no self-worth— “

The space you found comfort in is rapidly filling with darkness; You’re being sucked into a void of nothing and you can’t think. Ellie doesn’t move, just stares over you with feeble pupils, hand clutched around that pen, the end of it leaving an indent in her sweats. 

Pickle plops down onto your feet as you cry. You take her into your arms and hold her as close as possible, scurrying into your room. You fall back against the door and it slams, sliding down the wood as Kit-Kat nuzzles your chin. She’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world. How could such an angel be left in the snow to die? 

Time moves in a blur as you weep. Your mom would’ve held you if she were here. 

What you would give for some parental guidance. You almost called your father. 

Almost. 

Click, click, click, click, click—

One, two, three, four. Breathe in, Breathe out. Five, six—

Thank God for your fucking custom pen. The noise is enough to distract her from breaking down in your tiny living room. She should’ve snagged Pickle before you did; She needs a fucking hug. 

Ellie hates being yelled at. More than anything. More than you. God, she fucking despises you. 

You look and sound nothing like her mother, but you’re oddly alike. She pondered whether or not that was the reason she was drawn to you; She always finds herself trapped in spaces with fucking deflectors. 

She hasn’t even begun editing the photos from earlier. At this point, she doesn’t even want to use them. It’s a shame your eyes are so expressive; She would’ve burned the pictures she took of you the second you left with that bitch if she wasn’t so crunched for time. She needs to submit them so she can get the fuck out of here. 

You’d be an excellent actress; You have emotions down pact on camera. The dark part of her brain convinced her that you were thinking of her with that doting, yearnful look in your eye. 

The photography company keeps sending her emails about completing her work profile and her fucking portfolio submission. That’s the only form of motivation she has left, and even then, she hasn’t revisited those photos. She doesn’t have much time to make them perfect. 

Ellie swallows the lump in her throat over and over, thumb pressing down, down, down. She can’t stop clicking your fucking pen. Just don’t cry. 

Your sobs almost get her there, almost push her over the edge, but she shuts her eyes and counts each click, matching them with every heave she releases. You, somehow, sound just like her fucking mom. 

And Ellie, despite the backwards relationship between the two of you, still fucking kissed you. She should’ve died right there in front of you. What a fucking joke. 

But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to. She’s never experienced affection like that; It was passionate and made her itch with a desire she hasn’t felt in a long time. All she wants is for someone to love her, hold her like you did, touch her like you did. She’s never felt that euphoric in her life, never witnessed so many bright colors at once. 

Whoever told her being alone was easy was a fucking liar. No one should wake up and want to die every day, so why does she? Everyone thinks she prefers silence, but she doesn’t. Ellie craves contact in all forms. In any form. Desperately. 

Why did it have to be you? Why the fuck did it have to be you. 

Her brain is telling her she can’t wait to move out, so why is her heart amidst decay whenever she thinks about it? She’s going to suffocate in here, so she rises, pen still in hand, and snags her puffer and beanie from the couch. Her feet shove into her boots and she’s out, the front door slamming shut. She didn’t even bother to lock it. 

Ellie takes the stairs and leaves the building on autopilot, no destination in mind. Just stomping through the splintering cold like a fucking yeti. Every breath oxidizes in a cloud before her as she recalls where she fumbled with you. 

Dina. 

Ellie’s cold hands frost her face as she wipes it, making sharp turns and stumbling on ice. She wants to go home; She misses her dad. 

Dina seems to be the only thing you two have in common. You both might hate her more than each other. The horror she felt when her ex-roommate taped that eviction notice on her door is incomparable. Ellie was a struggling entrepreneur and practically fucking homeless overnight. All because Dina’s new fucking side piece. 

Ellie and Dina, friends. Wait until she tells you about how she almost beat her and her girlfriend’s ass. If you’re even willing to listen at this point. 

Ellie continues to walk, hands tucked under her armpits. At least she’s not simmering anymore in her rage anymore. She blocks down the way when she realizes she forgot her fucking phone. This would’ve been a perfect time to cry to her old man. 

You’re not out of Ellie’s system at all. You’ve, unfortunately, claimed residency inside of her. 

You’re scribbling with spilled wine on your shirt, outside noise muffled by the plugs in your ears. You don't recall leaving your room, grabbing a bottle and downing its contents, but the remnants of broken glass acts as a decent reminder. 

Your hand is cramping from its grip on a new pen, but you can’t stop gliding the tip across the sixth sheet of printer paper. You hate what you’re drawing; The details are perfect, inked scratches practically muscle memory, and you despise it. It’s always her.

You’re going to be alone for a very long time. You’re too destructive for companionship, you’ve learned. How ironic: the one aspect of life you crave is becoming your demise, and your downfall is going to be tortuous. Recovery is never long lasting for you. 

So, you sketch. And scratch. And erase, start again, hoping, praying, for an outcome that doesn’t feel so lost. You’re destroyed and desperate to find comfort. Was your father right when he called you sick at age twelve? Maybe something is truly wrong with you. Maybe one of the reasons why you constantly push and mask and hide. 

Every insecurity you’ve garnered in high school is flourishing in adulthood, thick as vines and as strong as tree bark. Deflection is an art that you’ve mastered out of preservation; Too bad it’s trapped you in isolation. 

The green in Ellie’s eyes holds stories. Somehow, this month feels like centuries. Centuries of studying the mass area of blossoming, healthy land beneath her pupils. Her eyes are sacred, almost too sacred to manipulate, but you draw them anyway. 

You want to touch her again. You want her to touch you. Just one last time. You’re already a fucking failure; One last mistake wouldn’t hurt. 

A teardrop musses the paper, so you scrap it like the others and start again. Ellie’s eyes are too pretty to be smudged. 

You can’t stay here anymore. You hope Amaya understands. You hope Ellie understands. 

You’d give anything to be able to call your mother. 

You hear the front door open and close for the hundredth time tonight, followed by swift clicks of a pen. Guilt floods your system. You peer at a sleeping Pickle on your mattress before standing, opening your door to see Ellie entering hers. Your intoxicated brain notes the sex lighting in her room; Red LED. You talk before thinking. 

“I didn’t mean to yell at you.” She jumps and turns at your cracked voice, eyes red. She smoked; you can smell it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— “

“I’m submitting my portfolio in the morning. I’ll be out by Christmas.” She says, monotone. Lifeless. 

A dry huff escapes your closed throat. Your heart is breaking. Just a little, “I guess, uh… I can’t see it anymore, huh?” She doesn’t answer. 

“Do you regret taking those pictures?” She mumbles.

You don't hesitate, “Not at all.”

She nods. The silence that follows is thick, weighing at both of your shoulders, holding you in place. Ellie’s breathing is finally steady, and it’s calming. 

“Go to bed.” She whispers before entering her room, gently shutting it behind her. Some tears fall before you follow her lead. 

Pickle is sitting on the edge of your bed, just watching you. You smile sadly and whisper, “At least you love me, right?” 

A gentle blink from her. You sob; Another pair of green eyes to bring you comfort. 

“I love you, too.” 

heyyyy: @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane @muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf @fictionalgap @liabadoobee @whooknooows @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @qtgaslighter @p4ison1vy @eviestevie-14 @weaselot @elliewbbg @elsmissingfingers @lmaoo-spiderman @lyssaspengler @elliewilliamsmunch @gummydummykj @kiwikeysblog @juniorsfav @louleele @alittlextrahoney @tohoko @333-starhotline @girlkissersco @saplingkoi @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @diddiqueen @alexisvs-world @mostlyhornyandsad @lolaaa699999 @elsblunt @niyahlovesu @randomhoex @sunnmoon @elliesaesp @callmewhenyoukan @rubycruzsbitch

[heavenbloom]

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ:

DAILY CLICK • BOYCOTT TLOU • DONATE

please do not skip over this! continuing to support palestine in any way possible is much more important than reading any piece of fanfiction.

𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊: 𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏

knight!abby x princess!reader

summary: your plans to usurp your despotic brother are halted when he assigns one of his strongest knights to keep an eye on you. what will wither and what will blossom in her presence?

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, political elements, fem afab reader, princess reader is manipulative, extensive descriptions of blood and violence, graphic depiction of murder, subtle enemies to lovers (more so in next chapter), degrading terms used in a non-sexual manner, insults, profanity, probably ooc?, not edited, reader discretion advised

a/n: this is HEAVILY inspired by The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri. this song is the atmosphere i was going for if you wanted to listen while reading!! dedicating this to @catfern, love you <3

wc: 4.7k

The corpse-quiet hours before dawn settled over the world with the languidness of dripping wax. There was a tenseness to it, beneath the silence, the twinings of a tautly strung instrument. You could smell it on the breeze too, a lick of disturbance carried sharply on the air alongside the fragrance of jasmine and rose. This night was a thing too tender for imminence, you thought, as you watched off-white petals scatter across pristine marble.

You felt it in your bones first, as it reverberated through the night. It felt like rolling thunder across the mountainside, but it was far too regimented to be birthed from mother nature. No, you knew this sound as intimately as your own heartbeat. 

Hoofbeats. Steadfast, almost urgent, as they ascended towards the palace. Through your balcony, you could see a sea of them, clad in the pure white of moonlight and the gold of dawn. At the very front jostled a garish carriage swathed in the same colours, flying your nation’s flags. You stepped further out onto the balcony. A retinue, a homecoming. Your brother has returned.

Of course, ease slid through your veins at the fact that it was not a darker reality encroaching, but it curdled instantaneously, soured by the notion that you would merely be a marionette tugged upon and prettied up in order to appease him. A dutiful princess, you would play the part of orator, musician, perhaps finally bride to a stranger if the King and all his attendants had his way. What were you but a flower with an endless array of malleable petals to be arranged this way and that? 

You drank in the perfumed scents that swirled around you, a sigh passing your parted lips. The silk curtains of your suite lifted like a breath, the solid colour broken apart by somebody familiar, whose chest rattled for the solace of fresh air.

Your features did not falter as your eyes remained fixed upon the retinue fast approaching. The girl, one of your many pairs of watchful eyes,  strode towards you, sweat upon her brow, a worrisome crease at the youthful corner of her lips. You remained fixed as you felt the brush of rough parchment against your smooth palm.

Politics was a game played by degrees, after all. It demanded quiet, the slithering of a black-belllied snake in the grass, waiting for the perfect moment to coil around its prey and squeeze. You let the paper unfurl against the wind, let it flap in the air as you read word upon word scrawled onto the page with an unsteady hand.

You knew what you hungered for, the prey that dangled just out of reach above your open maw. It glistened deepest oceanic blue cast in gold, and it sat safely atop of your tyrannical brother’s head.

Like all noble daughters, you knew that patience was a virtue. Things did not fall easily into your lap, so you would have to work for it, a dog searching ceaselessly for a single scrap of bone. You would let the meat of the empire simmer, wait until it was your turn to have your fill.

The parchment began to crinkle under the ferocity of your grip as your brother flashed through your mind. His smile, all canines. The cruelty that lurked just beneath the surface of that untarnished exterior.

With a fiery savagery singing in your veins, you silently declared that his crown would be yours.

        𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The day’s last light was beginning to wither away, its last breath sweeping across the courtyard below and setting it ablaze. The air that seemed like an extension of your own lungs the night before was cloying now, pollen stuck in the crevice of your throat and tightening it with fist-strength.

There were certain things you expected of your brother, but this…

Your eyes flitted from the balustrade to the woman who stood just behind the gauzy silk draped across the doorway. She had a straight spine to match the strength in her features. Slight aquiline nose, plump lips, and those eyes, crystalline blue but honed from years of slinking, silent observation.  There was no denying the touch of regality woven throughout her being. If somebody had said she were an empress from some distant land, you would have believed them.

It wasn’t such an extravagance that granted you with her presence, though. A white cape threaded with gold was draped around her armour-laden shoulders. There was a sword at her hip, but the breadth of her body alone was enough to make anybody hesitate.

This woman, whose body was carved for the gruesomeness of the battle, was to be your watchful knight, under oath to quash any harm that may arise. 

A bitterness rose from the pit of your stomach to the back of your throat. Sworn protector. The words thrummed in your skull like jailer. It was clear from her unbroken gaze alone where her loyalties were placed, at the feet of your brother and your brother alone.

You were the first to break your eyes away, demurely, subtle but unerringly feminine, and more importantly, inferior. Your spine was straight, but you hung your head slightly, letting your eyes wander along the outline of lush greenery below. Your hands skimmed along the finery that swathed your body. You appeared reticent and meagre, but every minute movement was deliberate on your part, a dance in which you knew all the steps.

Her shadow of a presence was a setback, certainly, something to keep you at bay, but if you wove the right tale, spun an intricacy of honeyed words and laid syrupy sweetness upon her… this one, like any other, could be used, moulded and rolled like clay with the right pressure. All you had to do was locate a chink in her armour. 

You gave a hesitant pause, counted to three, until you walked the expanse of the balcony, back into your quarters, the tinkling of weighty jewellery sounding with each step you took. Even closer, she appeared much more powerful, the jagged lines of her face schooled into sternness. The refusal to drop her gaze in the presence of her new lady sent a shiver down your spine.

“Abigail.” Your voice was gentle, the lulling of a flute. “I am grateful for your service. To my dear brother, of course, but especially to me.” You stepped closer to her, but remained at a polite distance, a benevolent smile gracing your lips.

Her face remained the same, but there was a slight quirk to her thick brows. She was used to doing bloody work for the King, but you could tell that she was unused to interacting with royalty.  “My loyalty is to the crown. I would do anything His Majesty asked of me, princess.” Ah, what a well trained response. As expected of one of the most renowned weapons in your brother’s arsenal.

“Yes, and it warms my heart.” You ensured your smile widened, your eyebrows softening in tandem with the lovely upward curve of your mouth. “I have heard stories of your bravery. To have such a hero protect myself alone… well, it feels rather a waste of talent, does it not?”

Her lips parted for a moment at the steer in conversation. You could see the hardness melting from her face like butter, replaced by an expression unreadable. It was too early to tell whether there was now a weakness to strike at, but it was better than talking to the righteous facade of her. “My talents can be just as useful in the Royal Palace as they would be on the battlefield.” Her words were as certain as solid stone, unmoving in their conviction.

“Such a noble heart you have.” You let the distance close between the two of you, then, your body just a few mere inches away from steel. Your hand met the one at her side, soft fingers grazing across leather, the cool hilt of her sword brushing against your knuckles. “But you do not need to protect me. Guards swarm this palace, after all.”

You expected abashment, the averting of that steady, unbreakable gaze, but not so much as a twitch of her fingers was drawn out of her. Still, you pressed on, as a thumb circled a spot on her gloved hand. “You would be better suited to attacking any threats at the root, dear knight. I could arrange you to be back where you once were. Not here, not with me.”

These lies, this faux flattery, left your tongue with the ease of second nature. You had none of the power you wished to possess, and you could not fulfil any such promise to her, but a few sweetened words could at least put you in her good favour, string her along for at least for a few moments outside of her obstructive gaze.

Something flashed across her features, but it was not the distant yearning for battle, not even the consideration of your hefty offer. You felt her thick fingers slip, gently, out of your grasp. Shock burst in your chest when her lips curled into a smile. Not completely unkind, but belittling all the same.

“The way we view honour differs greatly, princess.” Her mouth shaped the words slowly, deliberately and they hung in the air like an accusation. The last of the sun filtered through the balcony, causing the stray hairs framing her face to shine gold, the dust of freckles on her cheeks to appear like a smattering of starlight. You were once again struck by the wondrous beauty of her, a blow to the ribs. 

You urged the swell in your guts down hastily.

“Is it so dishonourable,” you started, choosing to focus instead on that same jagged ambition that ate away at you, “to desire glory for oneself?”

The eyes that you thought resembled a pristine shoreline now darkened with the implications of your question. You watched as the storm passed across her face, as the act of noble knight swallowed her whole once more. 

“Glory means nothing if it is not for the sake of serving the King.” She finally averted her gaze to the rolling gardens below. 

“Our King.”

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

Thunder rippled across the charred night sky, the rain beating against the earth with the ferocity of a thousand rapid heartbeats. Your quarters burst white and fizzled with each lightning strike, and you could see the dozing face of Abigail each time. She laid, with one arm cradling the back of her head, in a cot at the foot of your bed, her golden-brown lashes long enough to cast wispy shadows on the apples of her cheeks under the inconsistent light. Even in her sleep, she seemed to be withholding herself from you, despite the stretch of days you had spent together thus far.

Beneath the writhing rage that clawed at your insides, you felt a soft pang, something faint and unfamiliar, for this woman. She was forced to live her days, in utter numbness, waiting for an attack on your life that would never come. She was here to intimidate you into compliance, at your brother’s whims, and she was completely unaware of it. To be a pawn in such a twisted game unwittingly… It was cruel. But weren’t you attempting to do the exact same? The hypocrisy was completely not lost on you.

You watched her sleeping figure for a few more moments until you were certain she was asleep. Then, soundlessly, you slipped out of the embrace of your bed. The air was cool but heavy with humidity as you walked on the balls of your bare feet, your nightgown brushing your ankles and sending an anxious tremble up your body. You tried to move as swiftly as you could. Your spies and confidants were loyal enough, but even they would not wait out the entire night for you when there was other work to be done at dawn.

 An electric thrill jolted your being when you clasped the door handle. Was evading her watchful eye really so easy? Was all you had to do is slink around in the deep hours of dark?  You bit down a smile as the heavy door gave way . Freedom, for a few mere minutes at least, was just beyond the door…

“My Lady?” Something glacial hardened in your veins. The voice was hoarse with the remnants of slumber, but there was no doubting the razor-edge awareness of it. 

For a beat, you were too stunned to face her. When you didn’t turn, she spoke again. “Princess, what are you doing out of bed?”

What was the safest way to avoid her suspicion? The crashing of thunder sliced through your thoughts like a knife, offering you an escape route on a silver platter.

You whorled around, your eyebrows high-strung. Abigail was sitting upright, her head tilted and her unbound blonde hair dripping over one shoulder. There was no armour covering the wide expanse of her chest, a rare exposure of bare collarbone and surprisingly soft skin. You would perhaps never get used to the sight.

You clutched the fabric of your nightgown and widened your eyes, fawn-frightened. “Abigail, I…” you let your voice taper off into a quiver.

She was up in an instant and striding towards you, brows knitted together. Despite the urgency vibrating every cell in her body, her large hands cupped your shoulders with a gentleness you thought so disjointed for a woman of her size and profession. You doubted she would have touched you if it weren’t for the haze of confusion that overpowered her usual meticulousness. 

“What is the matter? Speak to me, princess.”

“I-it’s absurd, I…” You trembled ever so slightly and could only pray that you were convincing. “The storm… well, it frightened me. I apologise. You mustn't be used to such frivolity.”

The tautness of her bow-strung body seemed to drift away all at once. Her shoulders drooped and she smiled, this time a thing of pure relief. “Is that all that this is?”

You nodded once, pulling yourself inward more and silently thanking whichever god had just granted you quick wits. She tsked softly and brought you closer to her. The warmth of her body was comforting, as alive as the spark upon a coal. 

“You can wake me when you’re frightened, my lady,” she breathed out, her breath rustling the hair at your ear. 

“I thought– I didn’t wish to burden you.” For once, there was a distasteful speck of truth in your words. She was a thing too gentle and straightforward for the ugliness of court politics. How could you ask her to help you usurp a throne she adamantly kneeled at the foot of?

“Princess,” she sighed, her hands trailing from shoulder to elbow. “Your brother has tasked me to protect you.” A lie, and yet she believed it so wholeheartedly. A loyalty as steady as a heartbeat.

“You cannot salve for every little thing that ails me.”

“There’s a sort of protection in comfort, is there not?” Such naive words, ones a child could have spoken, but they rang throughout your entire being.

She was diluted ink in the dark of the storm, but the whites of her eyes and teeth shone with the sheen of pearl. Your lips parted, drinking in a shaky inhale. You should have kept playing the delicate flower  in distress, but you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous and curious, a hunger that gnawed at the very marrow of your bones. A hunger that you had no choice but to satiate.

“And how do you intend to comfort me, dear knight?”

A moment of something heady passed, and you could practically see the churning of her mind, the weight of precariousness at her throat like a glinting blade. You knew then that the same starvation engulfed her own being, your hands slithering down to her wrists and clutching them. 

“I would do whatever you ask of me, My Lady–”

“No,” you cut her off, tracing a sliver of puckered flesh that outlined her bare wrist. A quaint shiver wracked her shoulders at the abrupt stone of your voice, unbidden. “No, Abigail. How do you wish to comfort me? Speak plainly.”

“I want…” Her voice was strained, the word leaden and fumbling on her tongue, her own will now foreign to her. Her hands tightened around your elbows. “What I want… what I desire, is not so easily spoken, princess.” 

Even in the dark, her eyes were the bottomless wells of a carefully guarded vulnerability. You wanted to chip away at that wall she had between you and her, between anyone but her fiery devotion and her own self.

You cupped her cheeks with the soft, uncalloused palms of your hands, watched as her reluctance dissolved with the touch. 

“Then show me.” 

Perhaps all that was needed was an uttered confirmation that you felt the same infuriating emotions. You had torn through the neat little bow of restraint that kept her being together, and now it was uncontainable, this ever-swelling.

There was a moment of hesitation, shared breath mingling sweetly, before she pressed her lips to yours. She cradled your waist as if you were porcelain, but her kiss was a beast of want, all teeth and tongue. Your back melded with the carvings of the door as she nudged you back, wooden jasmine blossoms and orchids keeping you tethered to the moment. You kissed back with just as much viciousness, astonished by your own affections welling up like crimson from a finger pricked.

It was with the ebb and flow of ocean waves that she let you go just as promptly as she had kissed you, her face a hazy mass of surprise in the semi-dark, leaving only the remnant of her warmth against your skin, the phantom of soft lips and tongue.

Her fingers scraped her blonde locks away from her face, chest heaving. 

“Princess,” she spoke through the ragged edge of her breath. There was a singed quality to her voice, raw and crisp. “Princess, it would be improper to continue.”

Disappointment, to your dismay, pooled in the pit of your stomach. You turned your head to the side and gave a feeble nod, swallowing at the thick knot lodged in your throat. Letting her warm your bed would be unwise, you reminded yourself now. It would serve no purpose to your goals, and a lovesick knight trailing you around was the last thing you needed. And yet... 

“We cannot cross that line,” she whispered. You felt the gentle snaking of arms around yours as you were pulled close to her chest, your ear snug against it. “But I am still here.” Her heartbeat was hummingbird-rapid, a reflection of your own.

She led you back to the bed and watched intently as you laid down beneath the smooth blanket. You stared in return. How was a person sharpened for such luridness able to wield tenderness the way she did a weapon? It was more frightening, you silently mused, than any tale of her violence could offer. It did little to divert the ache that seeped to your very bones, the craving for it.

Lightning still ruptured the heavens, followed dismally by a cacophony of thunder.

“Abigail.” Your hand drifted into the air, toward her. She held it gently in both of hers.

“Are you still frightened?”

Your plan for the night had been uprooted, and you had no choice but to remain here in this room. You traced each feature of hers with your eyes, lingering on the worrisome crease of her brow. Perhaps… “Yes, a little.”

Perhaps, this once, sweet selfishness was justified. Perhaps you could let this sordid business of trickery and usurpation float from your mind. This once…

“Will you lay beside me?” You sat up, peeling the blanket aside. “It would help me a great deal.”

“My lady…”

“Innocently, of course,” you reassured. “To know someone is beside me, to share that warmth… it would ease my nerves greatly.”

A beat passed, then another. “I think… It's something I also need. For tonight.”

“For tonight,” you echoed, patting the empty space of the bed next you. 

She clambered in beside you without another word, a slow exhale escaping her when her head softly hit the pillow. You could feel her breath fan over your face gently, followed by a soothing, steady hand on your arm.

“Will you hold me?” There was a waver in your cadence, something unbearably soft puckering to the surface. “Is that okay?”

 You were encircled by her arms, so gently that you felt, something swirl inside of you, just to then sink. 

Consciousness left her almost instantly at the feel of your body against hers. The comfort of someone to hold in the eternal stretch of night elleviated the quiet ache that thrummed and tugged at her own being. 

You listened as she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep, until the sky stopped its tears and the only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of her heart at your ear.

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The marble was icy beneath the soles of your feet, each footfall echoing softly through the desolate, cavernous halls. The lanterns flickered low, the walls cast in leaping, ravenous shadows. 

Wait for me at the entrance to the orchard, you had told your spy, an inconspicuous place for business made in the night, but as you reached the intricately designed archway, you were met with the absence of the living. The sharp smell of damp earth and overripe fruit wafted through the open space, yet it did little to calm the eerie feeling in your blood. 

Perhaps you were too late, or perhaps she had appeared conspicuous. A fist of disappointment twisted at your gut, but relief flooded your veins with it. There was silence, at least. Stagnance was a better ordeal than disruption. You turned away from the trees, feet almost silent without the usual finery adorning your ankles.

A whisper against the precious stone. Something scratching and picoting, until you felt the brush of it at your leg. Frozen, you peered at what had touched you. A piece of flimsy paper, the uncertain handwriting that you had come to know so well. Between the looping letters of secret after secret unfurled, vermillion stained the thin sheet. Vibrant. Fresh.

A man at the very first tree, the shimmer of the whites of his eyes furious and expansive. You knew this face, these pompous clothes, the cruel, all-knowing scowl on his lips. Your brother’s confidant and his closest advisor. If this man could stretch himself as thin as a carpet to soften your brother’s steps, he would have.

His movements were rigid, yet quick as he lunged in your direction, teeth bared and motivated by his sweltering rage alone. His cheek was streaked with the same shade of red.

“You treasonous whore!” He swiped his hands at you, but you scrambled away at the very last moment. “Traitor!”

“My Lord–” Your heart thrusted against your ribcage, your breath coming out in uneven, shattering breaths. There was no cajoling such a blind beast. His voice was much too loud, his body propelled by something untethered to reason.

You were going to be found out. He had the evidence and his screams were enough to alert any guards patrolling the slumbering palace. You had to do something, you had to–

He lunged forward again, forceful yet sloppy. Your body began to react on its own accord.

The blade was an ugly little thing, stolen from beneath Abigail’s pillow weeks ago and fastened in a makeshift sheath of torn silk and ribbon, held steadily enough by a bangle at your wrist. It was in your hand, slipping from the snugness of the material and clanging against the jewellery with the same delicate ring of anklet bells chiming in the midst of dance and song. A song of retribution, thrumming, awake and unabated, in your veins.

The moment was a blur, the contact of iron to skin one you could not even comprehend until a surprised, wet sound bubbled forth from the nobleman’s lips. He slumped forward against the blade, his eyes glassy. Lifeblood trickled down the hilt of the blade and down your fingers. The warmth of it made your stomach churn. 

Before you could pull the blade out, he swayed to the side, toppling to the ground with a sickening thump. Crimson bled across the stark white of the floor, pooling beneath his now motionless body.

The bile of pure panic rose to your throat, face leached of warmth. What have I done? What have I done? What have I–

“Princess?” A voice of honeycomb, even when it wavered with such uncertainty.

No.

You stared ahead, the bulky outline of her blurring only to refocus as she got closer. There was a look that had never graced her face before, one of confusion mixed with something akin to horror. Had she known this man? Taken orders from him?

But she did not look down at the grim image at her feet, but rather at you. Your stained fingers, the way your face had grown ashen and fear-stricken.

Her fingers ghosted over your cheek, but stopped short of making contact. “What…” You could hear the thoughts that knotted in her mind. How could such a sweet thing – you – do this?

A shout sounded down the hall, and you flinched, eyes darting in the direction as a new wave of bone-rattling fear crashed down upon you. There was a clamour, the sound of swords against urgently moving legs. 

Abigail pulled her hand away from you as if seared. Hardness seeped into the cracks where her moment of bare emotion shone. A moment ticked by, voices growing closer.

With a flash of movement, she yanked the blade out of the lifeless body beside her, a sickening squelch that did not seem to rattle her, and turned her back on you. Surely she had to be more selfish than this?

“Abigail–”

“Be silent and stay behind me.”

Your voice sank down into an urgent whisper. “Your recklessness is going to get you killed.”

Her head turned toward you then, her gaze meeting yours. Blue flame, a flicker of pure torment. 

“You have already made me your accomplice.” They should have been sweet, simple words, but they held the acrid tang of rotting fruit, bitter and wilting despite their saccharine nature.

They were encircling you in an instant, guards wearing the colours of the sun and the moon. Their swords were raised, but they waited for something…

The guards parted, roiling ocean waves. You watched as your brother stepped his way to the front, head held high.

Without a single word, Abigail dropped to her knees, the blade clanging against the floor and skidding away from her to rest at his feet.

Your brother did not spare her a glance. His eyes pinned you in place, cold and measured. He did not ask about the commotion or point grieving eyes towards his closest advisor. No, he already decided on what truth in this he would spin and alter in order to squash you beneath his bejewelled hand. 

As he stared you down, you gazed at the back of Abigail’s neck, peach-toned skin peaking beneath the cascade of blonde waves over her shoulders. You wanted to reach out, to touch her one last time if only to bid farewell.

Such a rotten heart you had. You felt it thump mournfully, greed winning out in the end. 

Your lips remained tightly locked as she took the fall for your turpitude, an act of the foulest betrayal.

As you watched them drag her away, you may as well have been clapping the chains around her wrists yourself. 

Who knew that even a blade of the soul could be double-edged?

[courtmartialme]

some examples i can think of brotherhood crimes of doing riza(and royai) dirty in my opinion that's the absolute truth in the universe. consciously excluding stuff i think are minor but annoy me just as bad or else this post would be too exhausting:

being ugly in general

not including her time travel joke from when they learn that the elrics are kids and not adults on their way to recruiting them

not including the scene where roy meets her after she calls him when she meets barry the chopper and threatens to burn him out of jealousy

changing the dialogue after roy saves her from gluttony from:

to:

LIKE...... if brotherhood has the habit of cutting off scenes to make it shorter then WHY they would change this scene to become BIGGER AND WORSE. the dialogue in manga is a clear example of their trust and wordless care for each other. while in broho it's just ?????? roy being an asshole????? to his wife?????? whom he just left his post running for bc he sensed she was in danger???? whoever chose to change this dialogue. kill yourself

riza being nice to alphonse when they are at 3rd laboratory:

not including the only time in the whole series roy calls her by her first name only:

the WHOLE ishval arc. riza telling ed about ishval lasts a whole ass volume while it's barely an entire episode in anime like... hm.. for starters the way roy and riza meet again there is different. in manga she saves roy and hughes from a surprise attack, and only realizes it's roy when she sees him through the scope. then hughes tells roy that they brought a talented sniper from the academy and goes after her to thank her for saving them. in anime riza suddenly shows up to roy when he was talking to hughes and like... not necessarily a bad thing i guess but...... yeah.... also this whole conversation is cut off if i remember right.. among a lot of other things LOL i hate how ishval arc is played down in BH

riza being funny and cute not being included again

this scene when they reach 3rd lab again in promised day and roy jokes about wanting to see her honest tears again and riza replies saying water makes him useless BUT in manga she's all cute and blushy while in anime they make her be all # girlbaws about it because that's all brotherhood riza is about lmao they took away her moeness...crime

in manga, after roy gives up killing envy upon realizing it would lead to riza shooting him then killing herself, it shows him lowering her gun without the glove he previously had on. symbolizing that he lowered his weapon before he could lower hers. in anime he still has his gloves on

EDIT I FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT PANEL OF THEM ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RIZA BEING INSUBORDINATE AND A BRAT SHE'S SO CUTE THIS PANEL IS WHAT INSPIRED MY USERNAME... SHE'S SO CUTE...... brotherhood is so scared of letting riza be cute and moe because she would be too powerful if they let her

EDIT 222222 BECAUSE I WOKE UP IN COLD SWEAT AT REMEMBERING I FORGOT THIS TOO

roy visits madame christmas' bar looking down and she asks him why doesn't he and elizabeth go someplace fun... we all know who elizabeth is right... and he says miserably that another man took elizabeth away from him(referring to riza being kept hostage by bradley) and at that the other girl asks if that means she has a chance with him now. everyone knows that roy is so wifepilled he won't look any other way if riza is in the picture lmao also how embarrassing it is that even your mom knows you're fucking your subordinate

i'm convinced somebody at BH staff hated riza's ass because of how often riza and royai scenes are changed or ignored... i know it's common for anime adaptations to cut off moments from manga but for an anime that whole premise is to be The Better Adaptation, doing it so often makes it bad to me. if you repeatedly exclude scenes that tell more about the characters because they're "not relevant to the plot", eventually there will be no actual personality left, only characters that are plot props

THERE'S A LOT MORE i wanted to include but this is already long enough and i got tired LMFAO a lot of things(most not included) are non issues because are mostly about riza being a bit silly, or showing more expression than she does in anime in a scene that otherwise doesn't change anything. but they still annoy me because by repeatedly excluding and changing these moments add to the view people have of her being nagging and stoic, at an attempt to make her a cool flawless Good Woman Character. what for.

[luckych]

ʚ 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : ____ is the type of guy : NCT DREAM edition! ɞ

ʚ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : nct dream x reader ɞ

ʚ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : some small fluff moments here and there and most definitely smut. ɞ

ʚ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : there may be some bad use of punctuation, maybe some spelling mistakes, mentions of a size kink, degradation, praise, slightly fluffy, JUST SOME KINKY FREAKY SHIT. ɞ

ʚ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠! ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : all of the warnings are prewritten. some of these might warnings not be in the story, some things that happen might not be in the warning section. if that’s the case, point it out for me (๑>◡<๑) ɞ

ʚ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : 1642 words. alright, i was able to do all this in one night surprisingly. it was slightly easy, but i should challenge myself next time, but i like doing short stuff.

ʚ 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : this is literally just a “____ is the type of guy” to do something whether it’s sexual or just very fluffy like. i felt like it’d be fun to do and pretty easy ngl.. if you don’t agree with me, that’s alright cuz i don’t even know if i agree with me 😭. ɞ

ʚ 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ : me @luckych the idea might not have come directly from me and might’ve been done before, but none of my work is plagiarized. i wrote everything by myself, so you can obviously use the idea for yourself, but do NOT take my work and pass it off as your own, please and thank you. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ɞ

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

haechan is the type of guy who wants a girl who likes to be a brat tamer. we all know that haechan has the bad tendency to be very bratty and whiny. i feel like he’d probably love to have somebody who can tame him and keep him in check when he has an attitude. for some reason it just turns him on so much.

haechan is the type of guy to love being degraded and put in his place. it basically goes back to him wanting to be tamed when he’s being bratty. he would probably love to be degraded and called a needy, pathetic bitch when he begs for your attention.

haechan is the type of guy to love being dominated but loves to dominate you. he loves it when you take control of him and ride him at your own pace while he’s tied to the bed and unable to touch you, but he would give anything to dominate you. to know that he’s making you feel good. he loves to hear the way you moan for him to continue thrusting into your puffy pussy, the way he presses down on your stomach to feel where he’s at, how you writhe when he hits your g-spot; he enjoys it.

jisung is the type of guy to use his height difference between you two as a kink. (size kink.) now jisung is a really tall guy. he’s almost 6’0 and a lot of girls are really short. he loves the way you seem so small next to him, so when he’s fucking you, he loves how tiny you look compared to him. he loves to call you small and cute during it especially if your height difference is really large.

jisung is the type of guy to be shy while initiating sex, but when he’s in the moment, he immediately becomes one of the most extroverted, confident man ever. he’s definitely slapping your ass, choking you, degrading you, just being confident as if he was sweating just asking you to have sex a minute ago.

jisung is the type of guy to slightly get off on the members listening to your moans and cries when he’s fucking you. he hates it at the same time because it embarrasses him, but he loves to let the others know who you belong to and who you will always belong to.

chenle is the type of guy to love a girl who’s bratty and has a bad attitude. he loves to give off that exact same ‘bad attitude’ when it comes to fucking you. he loves to put bratty girls in their place. it gives him a sense of power if that makes sense to make you a babbling mess after you were being a bitch towards him for absolutely no other reason than the fact that you could.

chenle is the type of guy to love to spoil his girlfriend with anything she wants at any time. he would literally just come up to you out of the blue with a bag full of money and clothes with a note saying, “continue being good and you’ll get another reward,” with a small smiley face. god knows that chenle has enough money to spend on somebody so why not do it for the most special girl in his life? he loves to take you out on shopping sprees, to nice restaurants, etc. he just loves to pamper you if you were being good that day.

chenle is the type of guy to use toys during sex. he loves to get you prepared for him by tying you up to the bed frame tightly while a vibrator is going 100 miles per hour inside of you. again, he does like the sense of power when you beg and plead for him to be inside you and stop torturing you. he always lets it go on for an extended period of time, getting off to the sight of your thighs trembling from your upcoming orgasm.

mark is the type of guy to want to fuck you inside the dance practice room just because he feels like it. he seems like the type to want to be caught in the act. it eggs him on to know that there’s a high possibility of getting caught whether it’s before or after practice. he’ll make you take him anywhere at any time respectfully.

mark is the type of guy to love playing video games with you late at night when you come over unexpectedly. it’s a really fun activity, but you guys mostly play with the other guys too. it’s like a small date that’s unplanned but incredibly fun because you know.. it’s mark.

mark is the type of guy to have haechan or any other member for that matter watch you guys have sex and allow them to get off to it. he seems like the type of guy to be into voyeurism. he wants them to watch. he wants them to see the way your pussy stretches out to take him in; he wants them to see everything. he’d definitely ask a member to watch out of the blue, somebody he trusts.

renjun is the type of guy to be extremely stern on you looking him in the eyes while he fucks you. he likes for you to stare him in the eyes as his face contorts when you clench around his hardened length. he wants to see your face as well when you cum harder than ever before when you look him in the eyes. he loves to see your fucked out face when he pounds into you for the 4th time.

renjun is the type of guy to be very dominant but very whiny at the same time. he’d definitely be stuttering and mumbling incoherently to himself when you squeeze your soft, warm walls around him or you kiss his neck on the exact spot he needs it. he can’t help but moan and whine when you do anything he’s fond of.

renjun is the type of guy to gently rub paint against your skin if you catch him turning one of his painting sessions. he will definitely dip his hand into a paint cup, dunk his hand in it and place his hands all over your body like you’re his canvas. he places his hand marks in the most inappropriate places like your boobs, your neck, your ass, everywhere.

jeno is the type of guy to cockwarm you while your sitting in his lap when he’s playing video games with the other members. he enjoys the way you place your phone down against the desk when he thrusts his hips as he receives critical damage. he likes you catch you off guard when he begins to softly thrust into you, placing gentle kisses against your cervix.

jeno is the type of guy to touch you under the table when your parents or friends are right across from you. i know, i know, very stereotypical but at the same time, i feel like he’d enjoy the way you’d place your hand over your mouth softly and act like you were coughing when you had the dire need to let out a moan.

jeno is the type of guy to be clingy whenever his s/o is nearby him. he loves when you’re around him and no matter who’s around, he will be clingy towards you; hugging, kissing, cuddling up against you.

jaemin is the the type of guy to actually be one of the sweetest guys when he’s in the bedroom. he calls you an angel, his pretty princess, his gorgeous girl; he’s just praising the life out of you even if he’s just yapping for no reason.. he will go out of his way to praise you in the sweetest ways even though he’s pounding the life out of you.

jaemin is the type of guy to always buy you expensive gifts for your birthday or even just random occasions. he knows that you love to look pretty and clothes are what really give you that feeling or prettiness so he goes out of his way to be attentive and focus on what you like so he can give you gifts randomly.

jaemin is the type of guy to be flirty even during sex. like he’s the type to keep up his same flirty and charming attitude even though he’s all sweaty and rough as he’s harshly thrusting into your wet, needy pussy at a steady pace.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

₊˚⊹ ᰔ * - honestly, i feel like i could’ve done better with this. i don’t think i tried hard enough tbh (·•᷄∩•᷅)

₊˚⊹ ᰔ * - again, this was made by me @luckych

₊˚⊹ ᰔ * - i can agree to you using the idea because i feel like this has been done before, but please, don’t copy my work word for word.. (｡•ˇ‸ˇ•｡)

[boobo13cambridge]

Somebody to Lean On | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: Penetrative sex, oral (f. receiving), kissing, nipple play.

Summary: After being eliminated from the Champions League, you join Kylian while he channels his frustrations into working out hours after the training session is over. 

A/N: Hello, everyone! I've had this in the draft for a while and didn't have time to edit it. I hope you enjoy it and lemme know what you think!

______________________________________________________________

You could hear the hard clank of the weight machine through the loud music playing from the door leading to the home gym that Kylian had installed since moving into his Paris apartment from AS Monaco years ago. A sigh escaped your lips, knowing that Kylian had been channeling his frustrations into working out ever since PSG got eliminated from the Champions League round of 16 knockout stages. Winning the trophy this season after renewing his contract for another two years had meant everything to him. However, Kylian wasn't the most forthcoming person when dealing with emotions, especially after such a loss, and you wanted to be there for him.

You opened the door and peeked inside, seeing your boyfriend shirtless, wearing only a pair of the shortest basketball shorts you'd ever seen in your life. The sight of him covered in sweat, his bronze skin glistening under the dim light, made your heart skip a beat. The low flame of heat that curled in your stomach was undeniable. You had started training alongside him at the gym when you realized that all your reassurances fell on deaf ears. You knew that at this point, the only thing you could do for him was to give him company, and if that meant spending hours at the gym, then so be it.

Clad in a pair of light pink leggings with a matching sports bra, you went straight to Kylian, giving him a quick peck on the lips as he gave you a little smile. “Salut, bébé. Je ne savais pas que tu étais déjà arrivée à la maison.”

“Il n’y avait pas grand chose à faire au bureau, alors j’ai pu partir un peu plus tôt,” you replied, making your way to the treadmill, wanting to start off with a bit of light cardio. For the next ten minutes, both of you were quietly working out. 

The tension between you was palpable, but you didn't know how to break the ice. You were there for him, but it seemed like he was lost in his own world. You knew how hard he was on himself and how personal he took each loss. The ruthlessness of the french media made it much worse. It was a different kind of helplessness knowing what you’re other half is going through but not being able to do anything about it. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Kylian broke the silence. “I'm sorry you had to come here to watch me wallow in self-pity.”

You shook your head, turning off the treadmill. “You don't have to apologize for anything, Kylian. I'm here for you, no matter what.”

Kylian's eyes softened as he walked over to you, taking your hand in his. “I know. And I appreciate it more than you'll ever know.”

He pulled you close, his hot breath on your neck making your heart skip a beat. You wrapped your arms around him, and for a moment, everything felt right in the world. In each other's embrace, you both felt a sense of peace that had eluded you for the past few days.

After a few moments, you attempted to pull away from him, but Kylian tightened his hold around you, his lips hot and eager on your neck, trailing wet kisses down your skin. Sighing in pleasure, you tilted your head back to give him more access.

"I need you right now, bébé," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. One of his hands trailed down your body, gripping your waist tightly, while the other tangled itself in your long black ponytail.

You couldn't resist him any longer, the tension and chemistry between you both too strong to ignore. You turned your head, pressing your lips to his in a fiery kiss, tongues tangling together. The gym equipment around you faded into the background as the only thing that mattered was the heat and passion between you and Kylian.

As you deepened the kiss, his hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip. You moaned into his mouth as he squeezed your ass, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You ran your hands over his muscular chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding against your palms.

In this moment, there was no loss or disappointment, just the intense desire and love you both shared for each other. 

Needing to catch your breath, you pull your lips away from his as he seizes the moment to stroll backwards and sit down on the bench, his nimble hands clasping at your hips, drawing you towards his waiting lap. You comply, gliding lazily over his thighs, and moan when you feel your clothed core brush against the bump of his arousal, barely concealed by those minuscule shorts.

Straddling him, Kylian pulls your body tightly against his with his muscular arms as you return to kissing him, your lips moving in sync with his in a heated dance. You gently scratch the back of his neck, causing him to let out a delicious whimper and buck his hips up into you. You break away with a gasp, feeling a tight emptiness between your thighs. He's so big, and no matter how many times you've been with him, you could never get used to his size.

Kylian takes the opportunity to pepper kisses down your jaw, enveloping your pulse point in his hot mouth. His hungry, wet kisses make you leak like a faucet. "I love you so much, bébé," he whispers.

You bite your lips, trying to contain the goofy smile threatening to split your face.

"Prove it, mon amour," you challenge him, feeling a surge of desire coursing through you.

He grins against your skin. "Is that a challenge, princesse?" he asks, his voice thick with desire.

"Mmhm," you respond, sighing erotically as his sexy chuckle sends shivers down your spine.

Kylian trails his hands up your waist, cupping the underside of your boobs. Flicking his thumbs across your nipples, you let out a whine while unabashedly riding his crotch. He stops kissing your neck to slowly rid of your sports bra. Kylian lets out the sexiest groan seeing your nipples harden due to the sudden exposure. The way his eyes gaze at your breast with such desire cause liquid heat to pool in your panties as you feel your body burning up with lust.

“Putain, bébé. T’es fucking belle,” he whispers before enveloping your left right nipple in his hot wet mouth. You feel yourself losing control in his arms, the sloppy sounds of his mouth sucking your tit and his scent driving you wild. You were absolutely losing your mind. Kylian was always so attentive and knew how to play your body like violin. God, you couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him inside you.

“Ky… please…I need you inside of me…” you whimpered, lifting his head from your chest. The carnal lust on his face almost made you cum on the spot. You could see the absolute torment in his eyes, and you wanted nothing more than to free him from it. “Take my cock out, bébé,” he rasped out. Biting your lip as his command made you gush further dampening your soaked panties, you trailed your hands down his sweaty toned chest, reaching into his shorts and taking out his pulsating member. 

One of the many things you liked about him was how pretty his cock looked, and you knew that’s where half of his ego came from. You couldn’t blame him though with how much he made you cum with it. He was so hot and heavy in your hand, and whimpered when you swiped a thumb over the tip spreading the drops of precum to aid your slide. You pump him gently, listening to him sucking in a hard breath, suppressing a groan. “I thought you needed me inside you, mon amour, hmmm,” his voice heavy with lust as he grabbed your face with one hand giving you a smirk. Cocky bastard, he knew how much you loved his dick, but you knew exactly how to have him begging. Rolling your eyes at him, you quickly got out of his lap causing him to frown, and teasingly pulled your leggings down your legs alongside your panties. 

Kylian let out a deep groan, his dark eyes devouring your naked body, “Viens ici, princesse.” Ignoring him, you walk back and lay down on the fitness mat. Spreading your legs, you glide your fingers down your wet slit, gently circling your clit. You throw your head back in pleasure, hearing Kylian swear in the background. “Merde, tu joues à quoi, mon amour? Je t’avais dit de venir ici.”

Opening your eyes, you see the frustration in his brows as he pouts. “Did I not tell you to prove to me how much you loved me, Ky or did you already forget?”

Realization dawns on his face, as he chuckles getting up from the bench and removing his shorts and boxers. His cock slaps against his abdomen, leaving a wet patch that has you clenching. “Is that how you wanna play, bébé?”

He stalks towards you, kneeling down between your spread legs. His large palms rest on your knees as he opens you to accommodate him. He trails kisses from your right knee and stops right before touching you where you need him the most, and repeats this on your left knee. You pant, eyebrows furrowed and body strung tight. “Ky… please,”

“You wanted to be a little tease, mon amour. You gotta beg better than that,” he tuts lightly blowing on your sex causing you to arch your back from the sensation. Frustrated, you narrow your eyes, “You’re not being fair, Ky.”

“All is fair in love and war, princesses.” He gives you the most shit-eating grin known to men which almost made you slap him before he opening his mouth and covered your pussy in his spit which made your mind short-circuit as you whimpered his name. For fuck’s sake, this man knew exactly how to play you to get what he wants. “Are you going to beg now, bébé?”

You were so wet and horny that you couldn’t think straight, so you gave in, begging him to give you something. Just as his mouth engulfed your throbbing clit, you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret giving in to him. The pleasure he gave you was out of this world as he sucked your clit while pumping two fingers in your pulsating channel. You sigh out pornographically, practically suffocating Kylian between your thighs. Your hips develop a mind of their own as the sloppy sounds of Kylian eating you out fill your body with uncontrollable desire. 

You pant with with pleasure, as you feel yourself hurtling towards your release. “Merde… Kylian, I’m gonna come.”

Hearing that, Kylian increases the pace of his fingers as his tongue continues to draw tight circle around your sensitive nub. A few seconds later, you feel the tight knot in your stomach burst, as you come all over your boyfriend’s tongue. Kylian pulls away from your core, his full lips glistening with your cum. Coming down your high, you look at him, heart so full of love that you can’t help but grab his face, pulling him down on you and kissing him deeply. You taste yourself on his lips, moaning into his mouth. Mine, you think as you grind against his groin, wrapping your legs around him. 

“I need to be inside you right now, mon coeur,” Kylian moaned into your mouth. “Do it, Ky. I want to feel you.”

That’s all the incentive he needed, as he gripped the base of his cock, lining himself up at your entrance before pushing in causing the both of you to moan. The glide was seamless due to how soaked your pussy was. Kylian lets out a delicious groan as he bottoms into you stretching your walls to the brim, his nose flush against yours as your breaths mingle. “Putain, this pussy is always so tight for me.”

You can feel your second orgasm already simmering as you tighten your legs around Kylian. “Ky… please move…I need you so bad,” you practically sob. 

“Fuck, no need to beg, bébé. I got you…I  got you so bad, bébé.” 

He thrusts into you slowly a few times, letting you adjust to his incredible size. The pain always gave you so much pleasure. Kylian was the only one who could hit all your spots, and make you see stars. 

“Faster, Ky…Take me just like you want, baby.”

That’s all the greenlight Kylian needed before he started jachammering inside you instantly finding your g-spot, making you scream. His pace is fast and brutal making you see stars as your pleasure skyrockets making you clench him hard. 

“Fuck, bébé, your pussy’s so fucking perfect…Merde…I’m not gonna last…”

Kylian unwraps your legs from around and throws them over his shoulders, bending you in half causing him to drives himself deeper into you with such jaw-droppingly good friction, that you feel tears streaming dow your face. 

“Fuck, Ky…Too much…I can’t…I’m gonna cum!” you sob, digging your nails into his biceps as your body stars spasming, your orgasm ripping through you, whitening your vision.

“That’s right, princess. Fuck…soak my cock.” Kylian buries his face in the crook of your neck, as he cums a few strokes later, fucking you both through your orgasm. Coming down from your high, you open your eyes and gently stroke the back of Kylian’s head as gently lifts your legs from his shoulders, rolling onto his back with you in his arms. Tiredly giggling, you prop yourself up and gaze down in his face. He looked so adorable with his swollen lips and reddened cheeks that your couldnt help but lean down and kiss him. Breaking the kiss, you look into his eyes, gently caressing his cheek, “I love you so much, Ky. I want you to know that I’ll always be there for you.” 

Softly gazing at you, Kylian pecks your lips, resting his forehead against yours. “I know, bébé. Thank you for always being by my side. I love you to the moon and back,” he says cheesily making you giggle. The both of you stayed wrapped up in each other’s arms knowing that no matter what happened, you would always have each other to lean on. 

[trash-king18]

college au! miguel

best friends..maybe to lovers? some much needed comfort from mig because i’m going through it and was tired of scrolling through pure smut at the moment.

cw: in depth description of anxiety and panic and feelings on loneliness, little bit of blood for like a second but no SH or anything like that.

this is entirely self indulgent.. just let me live

not edited

You were used to telling everyone you were fine, even when you weren’t, especially when you weren’t. At this point you didn’t know if it was more because you didn’t get the help you needed growing up, even when you did ask for it, or because everyone ultimately just assumed you were fine. You always seemed that way on the outside, grown accustomed to dealing with everything alone and discreetly as possible. “Quiet as a mouse,” you always told yourself that’s what you had to be.

But for some reason your study buddy, Miguel, was the one person who never seemed to believe you. You two had grown friendly quickly and were in most of the same classes so you had agreed to study together and help keep each other on track. However after a while you started hanging out outside of study sessions. You’d get food after class, go to parties, even went to the gym together sometimes.

That was freshman year, and now as juniors you could confidently say Miguel was probably your closest friend. You had plenty others, and you loved you little group, and time with the girls. But you two were inseparable and everybody saw it. obviously you two had kept your distance to an extent though.

it was great to have such a connection with somebody, but of course it came with its downsides too.

He saw right through every bullshit lie and excuse you made when you were feeling off. You hadn’t explicitly mentioned your struggles with mental health but you hadn’t exactly tried to hide it either. But just like with everybody else you did your best to keep not just the worst, but all of it from him. Which meant to an extent, you’d always had your guard up which created a considerable amount of distance between the two of you that had been there ever since you started getting genuinely close. He didn’t push it too much though, you knew it was because he had some secret of his own. He’d disappear for an hour or two, sometimes for days, missing classes even and show up clearly injured and having had been in a fight. Bruised knuckles and even ribs were a regular occurrence for Miguel Ohara. But he didn’t push, so neither did you.

This time around was no different. Your anxiety was getting worse with the stress of finals coming up and because of work you hadn’t been getting to the gym as much. lifting was the thing that helped the most, your main outlet. You’d had three panic attacks this week and you only felt it getting worse. You couldn’t fall asleep until 1 because your mind was racing, and usually woke up around 5 already sweating and your heart racing. It was hell. But you still managed to get through classes, work, and your two hour study sessions with Miguel and the rest of the crew after your shift. When you weren’t too nauseas you’d go to the gym before class but recently that plan hadn’t been working. Besides, the only meals you were getting in was a sad excuse for lunch made up of snacks you could grab between afternoon lectures and whatever leftovers you could snag from the kitchens at work. This Friday night though, you had a rare off day and instead had agreed to go get food with everyone else at the dining hall before everyone was supposed to get ready for the Faded4Finals party.

You sat around the table as everyone complained about their classes and their jobs or gossiped. To be honest their words kind of muddled together as you sat there picking at the skin around your fingers. Everything was kind of just a numbed out blur until you felt the back of someones knuckle gently brush up and down right above your elbow. You snapped out of your racing thoughts and turned your head to see Miguel looking at you with furrowed brows and the little frown he always gave you when he thought something was wrong. His knuckle keeps tracing small lines up and down.

“You okay?”

You force a smile, something that comes almost more naturally than your actual smile. “Yeah I’m good, just thinking about what I want to wear tonight.”

He whispers so only you can hear him over the chatter of your friends shouting about something or other “are you hungry, do you want me to grab you something?”

“No I’m okay, not really hungry right now.” His frown deepens a little but he just nods.

“Ya know I was thinking of ditching the party, not really feeling it, do you want to come over and chill? Maybe get a late night lift in?”

“Uhm mig you know I think I’m actually just gonna head back to my room.” You turn away from him to address the group. “Guys I’m gonna go start getting ready and I’ll actually just meet you there if that’s ok?” A lie. You had no intention of going to that party. His hand falls from your arm as you abruptly get up. You don’t even wait for them to say anything before pushing your chair in and heading to the door. You hear Miguel say your name before you walk away but you pretend not to and keep walking.

You practically rush to your dorm the feeling in your chest that you’d been pushing down all day tightening quicker and quicker. You barely make it to your room before collapsing against the closed door, sliding down to the ground as your breath becomes broken and hitched.

You knew what to do in this situation of course, you’d taught yourself how to deal with attacks when you were little purely through trial and error. Cold water, pressure on your chest, count your breathing, distract yourself, etc. but recently those things hadn’t been helping as much.

You eventually slow your breathing enough to drag yourself to the bed before curling up under your weighted blanket with your back pressed to the wall. It wasn’t much for a sense of security and comfort, but it would have to do. About 45 minutes later you heard a soft knock on the door. You were planning to just ignore it, assuming it was Jaz or someone else making sure you were ready for the party. Until you heard another gentle knock and a voice from the other side. His voice.

“Y/N? Are you in there?”

You didn’t wanna open the door. If it were anyone else you could lie and smile and joke and everything would be fine. But you couldn’t lie to him no matter how hard you tried and especially right now you couldn’t handle him seeing you like this. He’d know. But he wasn’t leaving

“Y/n Im not trying to bother you or anything I just.. will you please.. open the door? Just for a second.”

Only for him. Only for him you drag yourself out from under the heavy layer of blankets and hastily wipe your face with some wipes to remove the mascara before trying to dry your eyes with your sleeves. But nothing will hide how puffy your face is. Slowly you open the door and peer out to be met with your best friend holding multiple bags full of..

“I uhm.. I brought you food. Your favorite, the noodle dish you like from that place on sixth street. Oh and I also got the mango tea and water just in case. And because this dish doesn’t have a lot of produceI stopped to get some fruit. Not! That you have to eat it if you don’t want to of course I won’t judge you we all need junk food sometimes but I know how you said you feel gross when you don’t have enough… fiber.”

He blows out an awkward breath looking down at the ground suddenly realizing he’s been rambling. A gently pink creeps up his neck and onto the tips of his ears as he stands in your doorway awkwardly. You still haven’t said anything and he begins to regret his decision.

“I- just when you left the dining hall without eating anything I felt bad and so I.. yeah. I just wanted to make sure you ate.”

“Thank you mig but really I just want to be alone I need to get ready for this party.”

“Do you really think you should go right now.. I mean somethings clearly up with you..”

“I said I was fine.” You sound much more defensive and angry than you want to.

He looks back up at you but you avoid meeting his eyes still trying to hide how puffy your face was.

“I know you did. But… I check on you even when you say you’re fine. And I bring you food even when you say you’re not hungry. Aaand I come ready with your favorite movie even when you say you want to be alone because I’m,” he pauses not exactly wanting to say the next two words, “your…friend. Friends don’t leave each other to deal with things alone.”

You bite the inside of your cheek hard to stop yourself from bursting into tears right then and there. This man had driven halfway across town for your favorite meal and snacks to come try and comfort you, and while you’d do and had done the same for your friends even when they didn’t seem to need it nobody had ever done it for you. Everything in his voice sounded genuine, he cared. Before you could even process the emotions bubbling to the surface he sucks in a breath and starts again.

“We don’t have to watch the movie of course, I don’t even have to come in.. if you don’t want but at least eat.. please.”

“Miguel I-“

“Im not trying to smother you I just,” the next part comes out mumbled, “I worry about you cariño.”

You look at him hands full of things he got just for you, staring at you with puppy dog eyes and cheeks slightly pink. Everything that you were worried about seems to be forgotten for a moment as your best friend stands before you wearing the same concerned frown as always. So against your better judgment you reach out to put a hand on his arm and say “thank you” before finally stepping aside and opening the door enough for him to step in. Your grateful he doesn’t comment on how red your eyes are as he unloads all the contents of the various bags onto the table before he makes himself at home on your bed and starts setting up his laptop. He picks up the tea and beckons you over to take it and settle yourself next to him. You oblige taking a sip of the mango drink you love so much and realizing how hungry you were. The two of you eat in silence side by side as the movie plays. You’d seen this exact movie with him at least 20 times but neither of you cared, you loved it.

You finish eating and continue watching the movie until you feel the familiar brush of his knuckle on your arm. He had started doing it when he wanted to get your attention or check up on you without drawing too much attention. So you look over at him to find him just sort of staring into space in the dimly lit room absentmindedly bushing his finger against your arm in small circles.

“What?” You ask confused

He doesn’t meet your eyes. “Why were you crying earlier?”

“I wasn’t”

He just keeps rubbing your arms slowly but doesn’t say anything for a moment. You assumed he dropped it, like he always does.

“Why do you keep lying to me y/n”

“Im not.”

He finally looks up at you. “Yeah you are. These past few weeks you’ve been having.. you’ve been off again.”

It never occurred to you that the reason he never seems to believe you is because he knows what’s wrong, most people just saw that you didn’t ask for help and assumed that you were ok. But that last sentence, it almost sounded like he was going to say that you were having panic attacks.

“Im fine Mig I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He suddenly sits up more and pauses the movie. He turns back to you this time the frown on his face is deep and his eyes are pleading. “You haven’t been eating, you haven’t been at the gym, you look exhausted.”

“Wow.. thanks.”

“That’s- no. you know that’s not what I’m trying to say.”

“No I get it I look like a zombie.”

“Would you just-,” he sighs and grumbles under his breath “you don’t look like a zombie you look beautiful you always look beautiful.” He speaks up so you can hear him, clearly not intending for you to hear that last part. “I’m just trying to say that I can see that you’re not doing well and I want you to talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk about anything. Everything’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I know you’re lying. I can hear it in your voice, I can see how tense you’ve been, I watch you picking at your fingers until they bleed cari- y/n please I am asking, I am begging you to let me help you.”

“I don’t need any help I can take care of it myself.”

“Yes but you don’t have to. I am here for you, I will always be here.”

Your voice threatens to break and you can’t hide how it wavers when you speak again. “But I don’t need you to be, I can fix it on my own like I always do.”

He hesitantly takes your hands in his thumbs gently stroking your wrists. You hadn’t even realized you were picking at your skin again and a bit of blood ran down your fingers. You avoid his gaze but he dips his head down to meet your eyes which are slightly wet as more tear threaten to pour out onto your face. His voice sounds soft but adamant and full of concern. “Look at me. Just because you’ve done this alone doesn’t mean you always have to. I know that you’ve been struggling with your anxiety and I haven’t wanted to say anything because you didn’t tell me but I can see that you’re not fine and I’m worried about you. If you just let me.. I can be there for you.”

The tears start to fall now and you can’t really stop them even though you try and before you can do it yourself his hands come up to cup your face brushing them away. You just sit there and cry for a moment.

“Oh cariño” you don’t fight him as he pulls you towards him easily to lean against his chest “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there.”

Your voice comes out quiet, “it’s okay, you didn’t know.”

He rubs the small of your back, its odd, you’d hugged before but you’d never really been close to him in any intimate way, you both didn’t want to cross that boundary with the other and make things weird.

“I did know. Ive known for years and I shouldve insisted on being here for you sooner.”

You look up at him “How did you know?”

“Lets just say I’m.. really perceptive” he gives you a soft goofy grin

You smile at him slightly, and he seems relieved that you did. It’s the first real smile you’ve given anyone in weeks.

“Mig?”

“Hmm?”

“Will.. will you put the movie back on?”

He chuckles softly and leans forward to push play but makes no attempt to move you off him and you make no attempt to move away. As the movie resumes playing he settles back against the pillows with you still laying against his chest with his hand resting on your back. you stayed like that, and for the first time in almost a month, you drifted off to sleep easily.

[hadleysmis]

I wondered which Les Misérables English translated editions to take with me as I move in, and I wondered for a bit if I should take the Julie Rose version.

Then I quickly ran through the pages, and saw the flickers of the faint and strong yellow highlights: the memory of me trying to understand each new, foreign word or phrase that I came across. I see the different highlighters that I went through, and how I kept coming back to search for the words and phrases over and over again to get it in my head.

I could feel the fuzz of the edges of papers, softened by the exposure of human oil and sweat. Each delicate turn of a page, I was able to smell the memory of the young me cradling the book between my legs as I tried to read sitting down in my bedroom floor.

I check the spine of the book and its thunderous lines that I desperately had not wanted to create. While it was a sign of shame for not taking good care at the time, retrospectively they show how intrigued and struck I was by the story and its writing.

I see the discoloured pages, the bends of the opening to show which sections I fell into the abyss of intrigue. I remember sitting down one day, bookmarking throughout the work, trying to make it an easier experience for me when I reread it.

I see my past self leave traces of me reading the book for the first time: guiding the future me in the categorisation of the colours of the highlighters and bookmarks.

I see who I was years ago, and I see how I have changed. I wish to pick up the book and reread the story, and inevitably I will be reading my thoughts from the past as well.

I don't want to annotate and ruin this first feel of having read the book. Therefore I decided to take my second-owned edition with me to my new home.

I remember I felt embarrassed by how much I had touched Julie Rose's edition, and how I wished I didn't ruin it. It wasn't until somebody saw a photo and said "That book has been loved" that I saw a completely new perspective.

It was such a long time ago and I must've forgotten how my life has turned and transformed since the moment I picked up the book and started reading it.

Yes- although I don't remember- I had loved that book. And me having little memory of it is a testament to that love, for it has now been ingrained in my body and mind as a fact. I never remember learning that love, I just know I have always loved it.

Cheers to my first time of reading the book. May I not forget how I disintegrated and dirtied it.

[stopdyingnow]

Outcast // Hayakawa Aki x GN! Reader Fluff

Warnings: None. Sfw. Focuses on Aki and reader’s healthy relationship. Story note: This is before Power and Denji moved into his apartment and when Himeno was alive.

————- Note: I'M CRINGING SO HARD AT THIS ALREADY- ;_; ahem. Anyways, no manga spoilers or spoilers past season one are here. So Anime onlys are completely safe. :)

I randomly got motivation to do this since it is a shower thought I had. Fictional character brain rot, am I right? I don’t know if this is considered a full on fic but more of a one-shot. Hope you enjoy. This is my first time writing on Tumblr (or a full on one-shot in general lol) so yeah. Hope it isn't too bad, if you want you can give tips in comments. ^^

Ended up being a bit longer than I thought, it was fun writing even though I struggled a bit at times to be happy with the dialogue and stuff. May edit a bit (cough cough a lot) more.

————-

Another month, another day.

Nighttime had overtaken the skies as you hear your co-workers laughing and enjoying themselves. They're all having fun, no worries whatsoever.

You were invited by Himeno to go out and drink. To have some fun for a bit. To let go of reality for a bit. The harsh reality of devils and lives constantly being robbed of innocent people.

It was a successful mission, so you were at the ramen restaurant watching your colleagues get drunk off of alcohol. It smelled like sweat and alcohol in the air, as you quietly sat there at a table not speaking to anyone.

In all seriousness, you didn’t really want to come. You would much rather stay home in your comfort area. You mainly came for two reasons: one being that you didn't want to decline Himeno's offer and seem a bit rude. You were starting to run out of excuses to not come. Second, being that you didn’t want to be the only outcast who didn’t come to a meeting where your co-workers are supposed to celebrate and forget about worries. All in bliss, getting high off of alcohol, escaping from reality.

You chose a chair where not too much people were as their laughs kept echoing. You sat somewhere to at least make you seem a bit included. You didn't drink any alcohol. You weren't a big fan of some. Certain drinks to you tasted disgusting in your opinion, and you didn't know how someone like Himeno could drink it raw.

You tried to peer your eyes at anything in an attempt at trying to ease the awkwardness of not having anyone to speak to. You didn't want to make it obvious you felt left out. If you were being honest, you felt like an outcast, like you weren’t really as included as some other workers are. Nobody tried to talk to you. And if they would do other activities, you'd be at home. Uninvited.

Or if you were invited, you barely spoke to anyone. If someone would reserve seats in a restaurant for the entire division, you would be the the person who is most likely to have been forgotten. Leading you to then be forced to eat at another table away from everyone else. Either that or if you do sit with many others, you'd be there in silence. Only occasionally speaking as you watch everyone else chat away, carefree. Having fun, getting high, getting that spark in their chest when they find someone they really enjoy talking to, and enjoying their time there in general.

So in conclusion, you felt like an outcast to others. Some people would only occasionally speak to you, only to stop speaking to you again. You barely knew anyone of them outside of work.

Well, except for one person that is.

Hayakawa Aki. Professional Aki. Known for being number one devil hater. The man whose family was robbed of him. The man who was forced to grow up too early in his life.

The Gun Devil obviously impacted everyone. Including you. So you couldn’t help but sympathize with him. At least some people who got affected had somebody. Whether it was an aunt, uncle, grandparent…While for Hayakawa, he had nobody. He had always blamed himself for his brother’s death. You knew that since you’ve known him for a while now. He always has blamed himself ever since that day.

November 18th, 10:00 am.

The Gun Devil would arrive and hit Japan for 26 seconds.

Deaths: 57,912.

United States: 124 seconds, 548,012 deaths.

China: 37 seconds, 316,932 deaths.

Soviet Union: 210 seconds, 155,302 deaths.

India: 15 seconds, 29,950.

Canada: 7 seconds, 8,481 deaths.

Mexico: 2 seconds, 6,088 deaths.

Hawaii: 0.4 seconds, 780 deaths.

In about five minutes, the Gun Devil managed to rob almost 1.2 million people of their lives.

New laws were enforced, orphanages began to overflow with desperate children and teenagers alike, kids, adults, grandparents, teachers, nearly everyone alike was impacted by the Gun Devil.

Hayakawa Aki, the man who deep down is filled with sorrow, anger, and guilt.

You remembered all of that. Felt a bit of sorrow, pity, and guilt in your gut for him and other victims, as a familiar face you began to notice was standing in a corner.

You couldn't help but feel yourself light up a bit. It was an opportunity. At least someone you know is there. At least someone who you know personally is there instead of being alone awkwardly, barely knowing anyone. You then stood up, and begin to wave to him, being careful not to be too loud to the point other workers would notice you. But just enough to get his attention. He noticed your hand, as his eyes met yours and he began to walk to you. Suit tied perfectly, hair tied in a topknot, eyes darting onto you.

Mister Hayakawa. Number one devil hater. The one who is supposedly cold on the outside.

As he walked toward you, you lightly smiled as he breathed in a cigarette.

“Aki- how are you?”

You were desperate to find someone to talk to by this point. You felt like an outcast at times as stated. Barely anyone talked to you at the moment and before. You couldn't help but feel alone at times. Every time you'd met up for the division to hang out and have fun it'd be the same. You would just be silent and ponder why you even decided to come.

Aki was the only one you knew well in that division. He was the only one who attempted to talk to you. The one who you could sometimes notice smiling in your presence.

Aki, the one you can go to to vent your problems.

Aki, the one who even bothers to ask how you are.

Aki, the one who speaks ever so politely to people that deserve it. Especially you.

Hayakawa Aki, the one who is always concerned for your safety despite what people say. Hayakawa Aki, the one who treats your wounds if you injure yourself. Hayakawa Aki, the one who you can always go to for comfort. The one you trust…

You were broken out of your train of thought, when he responded.

“I’m fine for now, thank you. I hope everything is going well for you.”

“It’s going fine so far- just glad to see you here so I can have someone to talk to. Better than just sitting there alone, am I right?”

He raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Hm? Don’t you have anyone else who talks to you here? You seem easy to get along with. I'm sure there's someone other than me.”

“Yeah, well…”

You couldn’t help but feel a flutter when he said you were, “easy to get along with.” Did he mean it? Cold devil hater Mister Hayakawa, calling someone easy to get along with? How nice. How surprising it’s you out of all people.

“I don’t really have any, close ones here y’know? I mean…Nobody really tried to reach out to me except for you. Or at least not as much.”

He lightly took a puff of his cigarette, when he spoke again.

“I see.”

You couldn’t help but notice a bit of pity in his eyes. Like he felt a bit, bad for you in a way? It was very hard to notice. But you can swear he at least feels a tiny bit of pity for you. A bit of empathy.

Aki empathizes with you. He remembers what it was like alone. Having to recover his family’s cold and lifeless bodies. Or at least what was left. They didn’t even look human. They looked like cold mannequins disguised as humans. No life in their eyes. He remembers the cold air and numb feeling he felt in his chest. He doesn't even know how to describe it.

He remembers being frozen in fear as he felt indescribable emotions during that time. A bit of denial when he first saw his house get blown away. Trying to process what just happened to not only him, but the entire world. Fear, anger, sorrow, guilt…

He felt alone. Like an outcast, perhaps? Nobody was there. That was something that hit him like a rock. Something he had absolutely no choice but to accept. No aunts, uncles, grandparents, no nothing.

He remembers coming to the realization that he truly was alone. Lonely, is the right word perhaps. Over time, he didn’t feel anything to it anymore as he first did. He was now numb. He felt nothing. Empty, perhaps. He was used to that feeling now. As stated, he became numb.

He has been used to waking up, going to work, and in hopes of getting closer to achieving his goal of revenge to soothe all of the anger and sadness he has. He just felt a bit...empty. Perhaps.

He lived for nothing but revenge. Anger, hate, sadness, guilt.

He’d wake up every day in his empty apartment. It was the same cycle every day since the Gun Devil.

Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep, repeat.

Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep, repeat.

Wake up…go to work, come home, sleep, repeat…

Revenge. That was his only purpose. Nothing else. Repeat the same cycle every day and hope to get closer to his goal as stated. Hope to soothe the pain. Hope to get peace by revenge.

Afterall, he had nobody. So why should he care about anyone or anything else?

Although, there was one exception.

Someone that feels just as lonely as him at times. Someone that sits alone at gatherings, such as this one. Barely talking to anyone. Someone who can listen to him. Comfort him. Support him. Just as much as he does to other’s. Almost as much as to how he doesn't hesitate to pull out his sword to save a life. Almost as much as how with each stab or usage of the blade reduces his lifespan with every time he tears a devil's flesh.

Aki cries, you and Himeno know that.

Even if it is just a partner he has known for a bit or a rookie, he cries. He cares.

Aki, whose heart deserves so much more.

Aki, who is deep down one of the most empathetic and caring man you've ever known.

Aki, who’d cry over your death.

Aki, who would do anything to protect you even if he won’t admit how much you mean to him…

Sometimes, he might even think when he sees you that he might have something in his life other than revenge, anger, sorrow, guilt, or the same cycle for once.

Maybe, instead of going through the same endless and empty cycle, it was pretty fun to talk to you.

The day got a bit more fun whenever he talked to you. It was just recently he noticed that. He'd feel something whenever he would see the way you enjoy talking to him. Whether it was him telling you how ridiculous you can be, whether it was about devils, whether it is him venting his frustrations...

To see you smile, laugh, and to know you enjoyed it just as much. You were so grateful to how he was one of the few, no, the only one who reached out to you in and outside of work.

Aki, the one who tries to include you even in gatherings like these. The one who at least tries to speak to you if he sees you're alone in gatherings. All so that you don't get the saame feeling he gets when he's alone.

Aki, who makes the places where you're usually an outcast, left out in conversations, kind of fun.

Back at the present, you were there in your chair. The air smelling like alcohol, beer, and sweat. Aki stood there. His tall figure looking over you. Analyzing you.

That’s when you realized he has been standing this whole time.

It was a long mission, his legs must be sore and tired. You notice the bandage over his arm due to him donating some skin to the fox devil. He deserves a rest. A whole break honestly. A whole break from this miserable life in general. From this sorrowful world. A world where he could be happy and have a life purpose that isn’t revenge. Aki, who deserves so much more...

It comes to your mind to offer a seat to Aki.

“Oh, you’ve been standing a lot, haven’t you?”

“I guess so.”

“Here.”

You get up, and slide the chair out a bit.

You see he gets a bit confused as you pull the chair out, that's when you explain.

“You can have my seat.”

He gets a bit caught off guard by the sudden gesture. A nice act of kindness to him. He then begins to politely decline, not wanting to take your seat.

“Hm? It’s fine. I’m alright with standing. Thank you for the offer though.”

“Nono, you need a break, Aki. You really should...relax for once. You’ve been through a lot. And we got out of that mission barely alive. We don't even know if we'll survive the day tomorrow...So because of that,"

"can I at least offer you a seat, Mister Hayakawa?”

Been through a lot.

Been through a lot is an understatement.

For a while, he’s had nobody and his only life purpose was revenge.

Yet hear you are, concerned for him. Caring for his life. Even though you know his lifespan has been shortened due to the curse devil, you are still there with him. He gets baffled when he thinks about it. Someone as kind and sweet as you nurturing him. Listening to him. Even if he can't even owe you a full life if he survived. But yet, here you are still wanting him to relax. Offering him a seat. Comforting him. Smiling at him. Talking to him outside of work. Being concerned for him...

You’re a pretty damn good person, he thinks.

Just the way your eyes light up when you talk to him. The way they light up when you get really into conversations with him. That spark in your chest. The way you act that way around him.

He’d pretend to be annoyed by you at times. By your ridiculous conversations at times. Mister perfect Hayakawa. Always so professional. But deep down, he can’t deny it.

You’re adorable.

He gets out of his thoughts about you, about your pretty face. The one he could never bring himself to hurt or insult. When he is about to speak again to politely decline once again, you begin to slide his body down onto the chair stand up.

He gets a bit caught off guard when your arms go onto him. A flutter goes off in his chest as he realizes your skin is touching his.

“Please, let me, Mister Hayakawa.”

You lightly smile at him when your eyes meet his.

Mister Hayakawa. He’d pretend to be annoyed by the childish nickname you gave him just to tease him, however he can’t help but lightly smile at your childish teasing's. How you are always more cheerful around him. Especially when he tries to include you in conversations he notices you're left out in. He can't help but find it cute with how comfortable you are with him.

As he gets forced to sit down, you begin to walk away to maybe try and find another seat or a comfortable place to stand. But that’s when you feel a hand on your arm, ushering you down.

“Since there’s one seat, we’ll make it work.”

“Wait- hu-“

You get extremely caught off guard, when he drags you down onto the chair until you’re on his lap.

“Wait- Aki- wha-?“

“There’s one chair here, isn’t there?”

“How about we both sit here. It works. Doesn’t it?”

Your eyes widen a bit, extremely flustered and caught off guard. You did not expect that at all. Especially from Aki out of all people.

“Aki I’m going to crush you-“

“I’m fine. I can handle you sitting on my lap.”

You’re holding back your weight to not crush him, you're tensed up and incredibly flustered at him suddenly offering you on his lap. You look at him, a bit shocked. As he continues smoking his cigarette non-challantly like it's nothing.

You get even more caught off guard when he has his arms go onto your back and stomach, trying to straighten your posture.

Since when did he get so bold? You wonder.

When did he get so handsome? So charming?

“Straighten your posture a bit, bad posture can cause back pain. I don't want your back being sore on the next mission.”

“R-right…”

You swear you can hear him lightly chuckle as you’re on his lap. On how flustered you are. This is unlike him. Very unlike him. He's a sweet and empathetic man deep down. You know that. However this is in public, in front of others, where anyone can see.

However, this one time, perhaps he doesn’t care.

He wants you to be included. To not be like him when he was alone. Cold, empty, going through the same endless meaningless cycle in hopes for magically finding happiness one day.

Aki empathizes with you, Aki would always understand your emotions no matter what. Whatever happens, he'd always be as understanding as he possibly could with you.

“Aki, are you sure this is oka-“

“I’m the one who offered you on my lap, didn’t I?”

You nod, when his hands go to your shoulders to massage it. He tries to get you to relax, noticing how tense you are.

"You should relax, being tensed up can also cause soreness."

Because of those words, you begin to ease up a bit. You feel your body slowly stop being tense. And you swear you hear Aki chuckle about how flustered you are.

You’re cute. He thinks to himself.

A few minutes go by, and you and Aki begin to have some small talk. Some parts of the conversation about devils, how work is going, life, advice for outside of work…

For the first time in this gathering, you genuinely smile and laugh with him. As Aki looks at you, he notices you have that spark in your eye. The feeling you get when you're really enjoying a conversation with someone. That feeling in your chest. Like a fire being lit up and the flames burning. That great feeling. And if you're being honest, you can tell Aki feels the same.

Aki, the man you can always trust to be your therapist. The one who would wipe your tears if you cried. The one who calms you down. Helps you relax. You, the one Aki is empathetic towards. The one who Aki trusts to talk to. The one he can vent to. The few he wouldn't mind crying in front of.

You continue chatting instead of drinking. Him chuckling at some of your funny or weird retorts. You're still on his lap. Which in your opinion, is a lot more fun than getting high off of beer and alcohol as an escapism from reality.

Perhaps this night was a bit fun after all.

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. yes reader is quirky and not like the others ik. 😩✋🏻

[vsyrworld]

carlos thought after charles dsq in cota? but make it unintentionally funny like how charles coping

ehe this is gonna be a quick one

"it is so close to podium. argh" rupert knock at the debrief table. "if it wasnt because of your tyre" guzman added, "you could have been in P3"

"I know" is he? well he isn't actually even with good pitstop, mclaren still too fast. ofcourse he is hoping podium he was so sure. until he wasn't sure about their result when he see the next garage seems moving in rush. so chaotic until charles left his phone on the garage chair. Ricky entered the room with Charles' phone while keeping eye glued into the garage curiously, "well i think the debrief is post poned"

"oh? what happen?" carlos had no idea. seriously no idea. is it... "Charles?" he took charles phone from his strategist

"apparantely..." guzman sighed tiredly. thinking what media content he should post to fix this upcoming damage.

carlos sighed too. playing with charles phone for a bit before realizing his lockscreen is more blant and minimalistic than he used before, than he used with only carlos. the spaniard grins as he holding the screen pretty long so he could edit his lockscreen, swipe left until find the saved theme lockscreen he is searching for.

minutes comes into hours and carlos yawned. there is nothing more particular intersting in charles phone.

one by one member of red comes to debrief room, chitchatting in anxiety, mumbling "disqualification", fear and sweaty forehead displaying enough clearly to see something is wrong about charles.

the room is so hot suddenly, he couldnt breath at all. its like somebody put something on the flame. carlos inhale only found a hot breathy air that exhaled from the member. humid-sticky, suffocating, just like inside cockpit in singapore, or qatar. how so it's fucking hot inside an AC room especially the sun already came?

he stands up aburptly making guzman and rickt startled beside him, "gonna go get fresh air first. its so hot suddenly"

rupert giving him an eyebrow. he just-- look its so hot here okay? carlos just give him a high five on the air.

he get out only to bumping with Charles. Red face, flushed by tears? oh is it sweat?

"Charles...? I head you dis--" his finger itch to crawl Charles to his arms but his teammate only grin

"Carlos! you had no idea what i bought you" charles put his arms behind his back so carlos couldnt see it

Carlos frowns, Charles giggled.

"Tara!" Charles shows both of his hands wrapped around...

a trophy, P3 tropy?!

"What the fuck?" Indeed Carlos, what would Charles present him the thropy just after he got back from steward room

"What?" his teammate slightly annoyed, "You in podium mate! Here" Charles shoved the trophy to Carlos before passing by him

Carlos shook his head and hold his teammate arms "Wait, Charles. I... Are you okay?"

Charles chukled as he turns around to face him, "Oh don't pity me Carlos" his voice free from malicious tone. he meet with dimples and smile,

"dont worry, i'm not angry or jealous to you" his teammate step closer, enough to brushing their nose together quickly before retreating himself back

carlos eyeing him in doubt," Charles Marc Herve..." he had a habit to call his teammate with his fullname if Charles start joking about his mental health or trying shove away his depression.

"Whaat? It true!" Charles tilt his neck to left and carlos automaticaly brought his palm to massage the sore spot Charles showing.

He hummed as Carlos reach the perfect spot, "Besides..." charles slowly open his closed in content eyes. green. beautiful, full of poison, toxic, death.

oh. carlos hands movement stops at the moment. Charles rolled his shoulder back and cracked his neck.

"I need to give some of a lesson" His teammate smile at him, no not smiling. its..

he is turning into sly fox. his dimples out, but tounge sharp as knife.

"I'm gonna make the debrief is long ass exciting, don't wait for me. you can go celebrate your podium!" He winked then goes inside the debrief room

carlos could hear ,"ciaoo guyys. where do we fucking need to start, hm?" before the door closed and he whinced his eyes painfuly

there only reason why the room grows hot.

yeah of course, carlos took his phone and called lando, "im joining the party. wait me"

he doesn't need to watch charles do another genocide inside the room.

later that night in club, his phone blink from notification. it's charles--

"enjoying your podium? say thanks to me by give me head massage will you? i think i accidently damage several parts of it"

and rather drunk in countryside club, carlos prefer here. staying contently with chill temperature, not too hot or cold, charles head resting on his lap, his finger gently massage the soft browns lock, scents of lavender oil slick across charles forehead.

in the room, charles always bring his plus one company. some race he bring anger and it banged into the fourwall, made a mess before his energy deplated and flop down into carlos soft chest.

some race, charles bring melancholy, staying quite for long time, only feeling warm cuddles and burying himself further into carlos neck.

on gloomy day at suzuka, charles bring cloud and rain. it took several forehead and long deep kisses from Carlos to make it stop pouring.

this time at cota, carlos confused as charles bring out a sun. lounging on his lap, streching like a cat while enjoying carlos massage

"you making me worry. are you sure you are okay?" carlos smoothering down his forehead

"im more worried about lewis though"

which making carlos frowns, "carino. what hell?"

"no but look." charles sits up and rest his back against carlos chest. carlos brough his arm to support charles waist, letting his teammate to fully rest on his body, he facing him side by side, "He is not used to get this feeling"

again, a frown.

"i mean" charles snuggles closer, "Lewis never used to his team, letting him down. like this"

carlos hummed, how ironic he just agreeing at that statement. "but that doesn't mean you should normalized this week no? especially, you..." its your birthday week . carlos want to say it but charles already understand.

he is not answering though, instead locking his phone and stay frozen at his lockscreen.

carlos grins

charles did the same thing too. "you awfully fucking romantic. you surely know how to annoy me huh?!" he groaned before fishing down a kiss to carlos inviting lips.

The phone is long forgotten with a muffled of moans and fabric rustle. with the screen on, it clearly shows charles and carlos selfies in a polaroid card and there are other several polaroid frames with a sharpie inked below them. the center one, the newest one, where charles face full of by a white frosting cake that carlos just smashed him, written there

"only me, your only one bday and race gift'

[jacobbyart]

title: after-parties ship: steve harrington/eddie munson tags: first kiss, fluff and mild angst, shotgunning, pre-relationship words: 2,275 steddie week: day three: first kiss summary: a note from steve was all it took. eddie was never going to be the same again.

notes: this is a scrapped chapter for hand-me-downs and other heirlooms! coincidentally, i also finished editing this in time for @steddie-week (plus the prompt and the story match)! : ) enjoy!

READ ON AO3

Steve Harrington was majestic under the blinding gym lights. Showered with screams and cheers, he had his fists in the air and a grin that rivaled the stars. A horn blared, then a long whistle. The game ended with a final three-point shot from the man himself and the crowd went wild. It was all Hawkins needed to win the game and win they did. 

His teammates, the cheerleaders, the somebodies on the bleachers ran to him, surrounding him with their praises. A pair of players lifted him on their shoulders and paraded him around. The masses wiped their grubby fingers on whatever Harrington skin they could reach as if he was some sort of saint with miracle sweat. 

The trophy now in his hands, Steve waved it proudly. He mouthed a thank you to everyone, anyone he could spot. For a moment, the King was back with his large eyes and his perfect hair, and his pretty smile.

Then, their gazes met. 

Steve’s smile dropped. 

Eddie pulled his cap down. 

Shame came first. Moving the next session with Hellfire had been met with disappointed groans and a lot of questions, ones Eddie couldn’t answer. Unless he wanted to be cast out by his own group of outcasts, he was keeping his mouth shut.  

Panic came next. That, Eddie was better equipped to handle. He had stuck close to the exit the entire game, making his escape quick. 

The night air was cold, but Eddie felt hot under all his layers. A few students littered the outside of the gym, earning him a couple of glances, but they ultimately paid him no mind. 

He knew it was a stupid idea, heading into the thick of it. Curiosity couldn't even begin to explain Eddie's inner turmoil and going back to when it all began would be futile. Eddie himself was unsure when his stupid crush on the King began. All he could remember was being a kid and finding those large brown eyes. 

It was difficult to rid his brain of Steve after. 

Eddie huffed as he finally reached his van parked behind a few trees on the outskirts of Hawkins High. It wasn't his usual spot. He hardly did deals so near the school anyway, but this was an exception, among the many others, for the night. He opened the back doors of the van and lit a cigarette as he sat with his legs dangling over the edge of the vehicle.

The loud cheering was now muffled by the distance but Eddie could still make out Steve's name. A part of him wanted to drive away, to forget that this night ever happened, that that note ever reached his locker in the first place. Steve was never meant to interact with him outside of sneers, backhanded compliments, and asshole middlemen. 

Heat and smoke filled his lungs. He raised the stick in the air. "To the Hawkins Basketball Team. May you all rot in hell."

He really was pathetic. 

One cigarette turned to two turned to three. Eventually, silence, save for the chirping of crickets and the wind passing by. If Eddie closed his eyes, he could easily imagine himself back home, his guitar close by and Uncle Wayne getting ready to head out for work. He would reach out for his guitar, claim that the silence was too deafening, and practice his chords and riffs till his fingers hurt. 

On his fourth stick, unlit and hanging low on his lips, a figure emerged. "Didn't think you'd show up," came its voice. 

Eddie wasn't prepared for the honey on his tongue. "Harrington." He turned to Steve's direction and found him in his letterman and training shorts, shorter than the ones he had worn while he played. Eddie had to look away. "How much're you buying?"

"How much you got on you?"

Eddie clicked his tongue. "Must be a big party." He rummaged through his lunchbox and handed Steve all of his stash. "That'll be twenty."

Steve hummed. He reached for his wallet and handed Eddie the bill. 

"Tommy too busy to do your bidding?"

Steve laughed. "I haven't talked to Tommy in weeks." He got into Eddie's van, mimicking Eddie’s position but keeping close to the opposite wall. "And no, this isn't for a party."

Eddie couldn't do much but nod. He went back to his cigarette and lit it. 

"Got more of those?" Steve asked. The weed was already safely tucked away in his bag. 

"It's some cheap brand." Eddie tossed him the pack anyway.

Steve merely shook his head as he placed a stick between his lips.

"Light?" Eddie asked, holding out a Zippo.

Uncertainty overtook Steve. His hand hovered over the lighter, cautious, but pushed it back down to Eddie’s lap. Instead, he leaned closer to Eddie, motioned for him to do the same with a curling of his index finger. Eddie complied easily, entranced. Then, Steve pushed his cigarette toward Eddie's and breathed the heat in. 

"You okay?" Steve asked, still so dangerously close. His eyes were big and brown and bright, reflecting the orange glow of the cigarette embers.

Eddie nodded. He could smell the expensive cologne on Steve and a bit of his lemony soap. He never took him as a citrus sort of guy. 

"Thanks," Steve murmured as they separated. He blew smoke into Eddie's face before he could lean back far enough away. 

"Rude," Eddie said as he tried to inhale it all. 

"You liked it."

Eddie's heart beat in his ears. "Bold assumption." The words left an odd taste in his mouth. 

"Maybe." 

Eddie waited for Steve to move. To up and leave him smoking on his own, but Steve never did. If anything, he sank deeper into the interior of the back of Eddie’s van with every puff. He lifted his legs and folded them in front of him. The tip of his shoe touched Eddie’s boot. 

“You look different,” Steve said. 

Eddie took the hat off and pulled at his hoodie. The material was soft and dark blue. Worn out in some places, but it kept Eddie warm. Warmer than needed now, though Eddie wouldn’t pin that on the hoodie. “My pa’s,” he said. “Thought I shouldn’t stick out too much tonight.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Wasn’t sure if I should head inside or not.” Eddie faked nonchalance. He willed his hand to stop shaking. 

“Wanted to come see me play?” 

A twist in Eddie’s stomach. “In your dreams, Harrington. I was wondering what was taking you so long.” 

“The note said after the basketball game.” 

“And I’m supposed to know when that is?”

“Guess not.” Steve chuckled. He reached for the makeshift ashtray by Eddie’s side and discarded the last of his cigarette. 

Eddie did the same, his own cigarette burned to a shorter stub. “Don’t you have a party to go to?” 

“And miss out on all this fun?” 

“Asshole.” There was no bite to the word. Eddie pulled on his hoodie again, letting the evening breeze pass through the collar. When that didn’t do much to appease the heat bubbling under his skin, he took the hoodie off. 

“Hellfire,” Steve read on Eddie’s exposed shirt. It was from a pile of discarded prototypes for their club’s new uniform. The design hadn’t been approved by the school. Too perverse, they had said. Not perverse enough, Eddie had wanted to reply. “That’s the Demons and Dragons thing, right?” 

“Dungeons and Dragons. You know about D&D?” 

“Sorta. I got a few friends who want to join.” 

If Eddie showed any signs of being dumbfounded, Steve didn’t mention it. Friends of Harrington liked D&D. What was the world turning into? Could that have been the beginning of his fall from grace? Eddie could imagine it, the King succumbing to the flames of roleplaying games. “Kinda late for that now,” he said. “School’s almost out.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “They’ll be freshmen next year.” 

Eddie’s mouth hung open. “Nerds and kids?” He laughed, half bitterly, half amusedly. Nerdy kids got Steve’s approval before him. Him, Eddie Munson, the nerdy kid of all nerdy kids in all of high school. So nerdy, in fact, that he was cast into the underbellies of its society. “What the hell happened to you?”

The smile on Steve’s lips was fond. “One of them is Nancy’s brother if that explains anything.”

And it did. Wheeler’s hand in this explained so much but it also churned Eddie’s stomach. “You still into her?” he asked instead. 

Steve sucked in a breath. “Nah,” he replied. He shifted himself, making the van bounce, then eyed the pack of cigarettes on the floor. “But Nancy’s Nancy, you know?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Do you want to?” 

“No.” 

“Jealous?” 

“So what if I am?” 

Steve laughed, magical, beautiful. 

Eddie couldn’t help but reach for the pack and light another stick. It was the last one for the night, Eddie promised himself, though the way his evening was going, he wasn’t sure if that promise was going to last. A poke to his foot almost made him drop his lighter, his heart beating faster and louder than ever. “Want one?” he asked—no, stammered at Steve. 

Steve shook his head but his gaze stayed on the stick. “I’ve been trying to quit.” 

“Wheeler put you up to that?” 

“What if she did?” A challenge in Steve’s voice. 

The jealousy in his stomach would simply grow, but Eddie couldn’t admit that out loud. He could hardly admit it to himself. Memories of Steve and Nancy in the school corridors flooded Eddie’s mind. He had watched them from afar, always from afar, holding hands and kissing and being in love, and his heart would squeeze itself at the sight. When he heard they had broken up, the giddy feeling trumped the guilt he felt for it. And then… 

But then, Steve was never the same again. 

“Jealous, I tell you,” Steve added. Another pass at the cigarette. 

“Nancy’s cute, Steve, but she’s not really my type,” Eddie tried. 

“And what is your type?” 

“Someone more metal than whatever Wheeler has going on.” Eddie choked on the smoke in his throat. “Someone different. Exciting.” 

“Someone, someone, someone.” Steve inched closer. “Gimme something specific.” 

“Volunteering to be my wingman?” 

“Something like that.” 

Eddie pushed himself back, the metal of his car poking into his skin. “Someone…” He was running out of breath. 

“Someone daring? Someone…carefree?” Steve was close now. His eyes locked into Eddie’s and he wasn’t looking away. “Someone with brown hair? Brown eyes? Someone good at basketball?” Then, he paused. He sighed, straight into the gap between Eddie’s lips. “Someone who used to be someone,” he murmured slowly, quietly, as if Eddie wasn’t meant to hear. 

“You keep staring at my cig,” Eddie said. 

“I keep staring at your lips.” 

“You know what shotgunning is?” 

Steve squinted. “I don’t. I’m gonna need you to show me.” 

It was easy, then it wasn’t. Eddie placed a careful hand on Steve’s cheek, gentle, gentler than he should be, and blew the smoke into his open mouth. He forced himself to keep some distance between them, didn’t push where Steve was uncomfortable. 

Only, a pair of lips sealed his own shut, and the rest of the smoke escaped through his nose. Eddie went rigid, then he went limp as Steve ran his fingers through his hair and climbed onto his lap. The way Steve kissed was soft; pecks that lingered a bit too long and tongue grazing but not overbearing. Eddie’s fingers tingled as he caressed Steve’s neck.

Seconds turned to minutes. Eddie almost burned himself with his forgotten cigarette but he didn’t let it faze him. It certainly didn’t faze Steve. He was plastered onto Eddie as if it was the reputation he had built for himself. The King kissing the Freak. What a sight!

In the end, it was Eddie who had to push Steve away, Steve’s letterman still in his fists. He searched for any regret on Steve’s face, but he could barely find surprise in those brown eyes.

“What is this?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” Eddie let go then. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Steve?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fuck.” Eddie rested his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. Steve immediately placed a kiss on his temple. “This is fucked up. You’re fucked up.”

“There were rumors about you,” Steve said.

“So you kissed me to find out if it was true?”

“I kissed you because I wanted to.” Steve pushed Eddie back and cradled his face in his hands. “I wanted to know what it was like.”

“To kiss me?”

“To kiss boys.”

“Ah.” Pathetic, ridiculous Eddie. “You’re an asshole, Harrington.”

“So I’ve been told.” Steve leaned in again, capturing Eddie’s lips, and Eddie let him.

Because who was Eddie to deny Steve that? Who was he to deny himself that? He might be pathetic, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“Can you do me a favor?” Steve asked as they separated for air. He unzipped his jacket while Eddie kept him in place with hands on his hips. “Keep this.” He placed the jacket over Eddie’s shoulders.

“Why?”

“I don’t know just yet.” Steve got off Eddie’s lap. Eddie already missed the touch. “But I think I’m going to find out.”

“You can—”

Steve took hold of Eddie’s hand before he could reach his hoodie. “That’s not you,” he said. “I don’t want what isn’t you.”

Eddie blinked. “Next time then.”

“Bold assumption.” But Steve was smiling.

“Come find me, okay?” Eddie kissed Steve one final time. “You better come find me, Harrington.”

[remyfire]

caught masturbating, any ship 👀

Kink Writing Prompts (no edits, we write smutty one-shots like MEN 🫡) (Hawk/Trap btw, and thank you!!)

There's a chill in the air tonight, not quite driving everybody to absolute misery, but just biting enough that a couple of hours ago, Hawk helped John roll down the flaps on the tent with fingers that ached without their gloves.

Honestly, though? It's kind of nice. Like being tucked in a blanket fort back home under the dining room table. If John closes his eyes, he can almost feel Cathy and Becky there, curled up with a bowl of popcorn, whispering and giggling and—

The pang comes. The agony. John huffs as he rubs the bridge of his nose and kicks out a leg over the edge of his cot. It's not his first fucking war, but it's the one that's eating at him the most. Keeps thinking he's gonna get used to it, and then here comes another punch in the gut in one way or another—a shitty string of patients in OR, a hungry orphan, a whiff of perfume from one of the nurses that smells just like Louise.

There's a couple of ways he can go about shutting his head off tonight. One, he waits for Hawk to get done with his post-op shift and they go hunting nurses. Two, he just leans over and grabs some gin and gets the party started early. Three, he goes sauntering around camp until he finds a taste of heat that chases all the longing away by himself.

He could say that he knows why he's waiting for Hawk, ooooooor he can just casually pretend he doesn't.

It's kind of like making tea instead of settling for the bullshit they call coffee in the mess tent. Setting the scene. Getting his mug ready, whatever bag he wants from the most recent box Louise sent his way in her care package. Sprawling out lazily while he listens to the water begin to stir. The tickling of the bubbles, the rising heat, the anticipation. Knowing that even when the kettle begins to whistle, the tea's still gonna have to steep good and slow, color blooming in the water in dizzying swirls, long before he'll ever take that first hot, bitter sip onto his tongue.

John's not a fancy guy, but his lips twitch all the same at his mind's wanderings right now. Listen to him. He keeps this up, somebody's gonna start thinking he's like those classy Boston types—the ones who look at guys like him and sneer 'cause they think they know everything that John McIntyre is with a single glance.

These few months have been the scene-setting, he thinks. The kettle's been heating. Inside, it's starting to sweat. Every time he and Hawk lock eyes in OR, each moment their shoulders brush when they're tight in a Jeep, the temperature's been rising. This silent sense of waiting to see which one of them is gonna flinch forward first.

Honestly, he's not sure what Hawk's been waiting on—he's as bent as some fucking Hohmann retractors. Hell, John would've gone for it ages ago if he didn't enjoy the tension as much as the release.

Speaking of tension...

Why not?

In the name of chasing off the ache with an appetizer before the main course, he tugs his glove off with his teeth and lets it drop on his chest, then spits in his palm. Maybe later on, he and Hawk'll split a nurse, and John'll take his time good and slow just so he can tease Hawk for letting go too fast, watch him flush as he grins and tries to find his words to shit talk him right back. Now? He's just gonna take the edge off.

Without a hint of shame, he shoves his pants and boxers down around his thighs. The flaps are down. Hawk's in post. Frank's off with Margaret, no matter what his shitty little excuse was. Anybody walks in here without a knock, it's their own fault what they see.

He's got a million fantasies to choose from, but the problem with thinking about Hawkeye is he's bound to swim straight to the surface. He's a little piece of work, isn't he? Pretty eyes and a soft mouth and long fingers, shoulders that are begging to be pinned down, tiny fucking legs that ought to be held against his chest while he's getting pounded. He's got these incredible noises he makes too, so many that almost sound like perplexed questions, like he needs permission to feel the pleasure that makes them bubble out of him in the first place.

As John works at himself, he chews on his bottom lip and lets out a ragged breath. Fuck, it really doesn't take much with somebody like Hawk. All he has to do is think about him pressing his hands into the wall, peeking over his shoulder, lashes low and coquettish as he arches his back. Or, God, no, maybe Hawk grabbing him by the shirt and throwing him down in the dentist chair, pinning him there with a hand on his belly while he yanks John's pants down and sucks him straight down to the hilt with a groan. Shit, the thought of being mouth to mouth with him in the pitch black darkness of supply, the heat of their breath tickling each other's lips as they jerk each other off hard and fast until Hawkeye starts to whine and John has to muffle him with a palm tight around his jaw—

The door creaks. A rush of wind. And John turns his head to see a wide pair of blue eyes, almost hidden under windswept black bangs.

The kettle, it seems, has come to a boil.

John bites back the urge to moan, but he can't stop himself from fucking up into his fist. "You wanna give the whole compound a show?" he growls.

Hawkeye darts in and all but slams the door behind him. "Jesus, Trap," he murmurs, thick as molasses.

"Ain't you supposed to be in post-op?" Maybe he should stop. Check in. Anything. But as he twitches in his grasp, another bead of precum slicking his grip, he also reminds himself that Hawk could've just walked right back out that door.

"Yeah, Henry needed..." Hawkeye won't stop staring at his cock. He takes a step forward, then shies back again, turning his head slightly even though his eyes stay right where they are, goading John to all but strip his cock from how fast he's jerking it. "H-He, uh, I'd forgotten to grab..."

Of course this would be how it happens, something this fucking random, Hawk looking like he's died and gone to heaven while John goads him on. He can't help but smirk. "Cat got your tongue, honey?" he teases breathlessly. "Shame. Could'a used that someplace else."

There it is, that punched-out groan, curved up just so right at the end. Hawk grabs the front of his own shirt, twisting it into a fist. He takes another step forward, then sits on the edge of his cot. "I-I've really gotta..."

John can see it, the wave of hunger all but overwhelming his bunkie, his sense of goddamn duty the frail dam that's holding it at bay. "You better get back," he breathes.

Hawkeye meets his gaze, sharp as a dagger. There's one, two, three seconds of searing contact before he licks his lips. "Do it. C'mon, Trap, let me see it."

"Fuck..." John tips his head back with a groan, letting the fire overtake him. "Yeah, you want it, Hawk?"

"Right fucking now, Trap, I don't have time for this."

Little fucking brat. John's so far gone for him. He bucks off the bunk with a sharp moan, doesn't give a shit about how he paints his shirt in his release. He rides it out, stroking himself until it hurts, until he's shivering in the thin sheet with a satisfied grin.

When he rolls his head to the side and opens his eyes, Hawk looks almost pissed, he's so focused on him. John's smile widens. "I'll see you after your shift, huh?"

Hawkeye takes a deep breath. He shoves something in his pocket, then gets to his feet, comes across the room, and reaches for him. John half thinks he's gonna pull him up for a kiss, but no. Hawkeye grabs his wrist and sucks his slick fingers into his mouth. John sits up with a punch of oversensitized agony in his gut, groaning as he watches Hawk clean the cum off his digits.

Hawkeye gives him one last look before he darts back out of the tent, leaving John boneless, pleased, and counting the seconds.

[mrhowells]

Smallvillle 4x13

disclaimer: I blame too much sun exposure and the huge slushie I drank but my mood when I watched the episode was basically this:

MOTHER🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

😭😭😭squealing blushing kicking my feet

They way one slipper is still on her foot and she's cuddling the other one😭😭

I'm down bad, REALLY bad

god she's pretty

Jonathan not letting Clark drink on principle even though alcohol doesn't affect him is so on brand

I'M INCONSOLABLE😭😭😭

my heart is doing backflips I SjsakjskaAJDKA

WHY IS EVERYONE SO LOVABLE TODAY I'M ABOUT TO HAVE A HEART ATTACK SO MANY EMOTIONS

no because if you could hear the sounds that I'm making right now

look I'm too weak for this, I'm not even going to be focusing on the plot, this is literally just me embarrassing myself over clois

I just know that when I finally get to "where is she" it's going to send me straight to the grave🤡

LOIS JUST ONE CHANCE I-

Chloe what were you hoping to accomplish here💀 (I mean she makes a valid point but is she going to pretend she doesn't know about his powers or no?)

I CAN'T DO THIS RN

I have no words

lmaoooo am I watching a car commercial right now?? (edit: turns out it was relevant to the plot later on, could've still been a smart commercial, idk let's move on)

CLARK KEEPS SMILING, HAVE YOU NO COMPASSION FOR MY POOR HEART😭😭😭

I'm dying but I've never felt so alive, does that make sense?

just realized I'm only 14 minutes in, god help us all

jkdsajsjkcsdjvs

screaming rn

SOMEBODY HELP THIS PUPPY

idk why they keep trying though, he's clearly uncomfortable💀💀

I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS SO MUCH AAAAARGH

I C O N I C .

I love them your honor they're my everything😭

"She's no Hemmingway, but still-"

plssss

Clark ushering her back into the closet, GET MARRIED I THINK U SHOULD GET MARRIED RIGHT NOW😭

he called her his friend that makes me so happy😭

NUH UH, NO LOIS SLANDER ON MY WATCH

seeing Lana chew out Lex feels so good, GO OFF QUEEN

this dude telling Lois his tragic life story while paralyzing her is so???, SHE DOES NOT CARE DUDE AND NEITHER DO I🤡

"What are you gonna do, break it and rip open the safe?" "... of course not."

lol

"Don't worry, it'll be quick." DUDE YOU'RE LITERALLY LETTING HER DROWN HOW TF IS THAT QUICK????? Not a single braincell left in this mfs head

I don't think Chloe quite understood the advice she got from Lois about Clark's secret, she keeps trying to get him to confess💀

TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!!!!!!!

dude stop monologuing, I'm trying to savor this moment (I do know that Clark is having his own little realization about playing football and lying but still)

HE DOESN'T WANT TO KNOW YOUR LIFE STORY DUDE, HE WANT'S TO KNOW HER LOCATION, DID HE STUTTER?

(his monologues aren't even that long, I just lack ✨patience✨)

I won today.

Clark I love you😭😭😭 He's such a good kid

Martha and Jonathan and Clark, perfection. Enough said.

Lana just give up men at this point, it's not worth it I promise.

THE CHEMISTRY IS CHEMISTRYING AND I AM LIVINGGGG

LMAOOOOO LOIS I LOVE YOU

Lois just happened, don't sweat it bby you never stood a chance

"Chloe you've been saying a lot of weird things to me lately." LMAOOOOO

They need to stop playing songs that I mainly know from memes if they want me to take this seriously😭

🎶how could this happen to meeeee🎶

I need to go to sleep.

[greta-flanveet]

Everything Has Changed

summary: Penny gets moved into her college dorm and starts her new adventure. As she starts to settle into her new life, she’s paired up with her classmate, Danny, for a group project.

warnings: fluff, light cursing, college freshman stuff

word Count: 2229

A/N: This is the first installment of the Taylor's Version series! Thank you so much to @way-to-go-lad for helping to edit this and make it readable! Enjoy! Follow the link below if you'd like to be on the taglist!

tagged: @idk-maddie @weightofdreams-gvf @greta-van-weed @way-to-go-lad

masterlist // taglist // series

The humid August air wafts through your window as you put the last box of trinkets on the floor below your desk. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you turn to your parents and pump a fist in the air. Classes haven’t even started yet and college is already a demanding experience. Your mom tosses her head back and laughs while your dad starts opening boxes. 

“Dad, just relax a minute.” You offer. 

“Oh yes, sweetheart.” He stands to meet you. “You’re right, the boxes will unpack themselves if we leave them long enough.” Your mom bites back a laugh and you roll your eyes.

“Whatever Dad.” 

You drop yourself onto the stiff dorm room mattress and examine the yellow brick walls. This is home for the next five months. You take a deep breath and sit up, smiling at your parents. 

“So, who’s gonna miss me the most when you get back home?” You tease. 

Your parents stay silent, exchanging a glance before your dad chimes in.

“Well, I’m going to miss the silence.” You and your mom laugh as she shushes him and slaps his arm.

“What?” He shrugs, shooting you a wink.

You bend over and start unpacking your bedding, clothes, and pictures from home. The hour and a half of work seems to fly as your parents joke and reminisce with you about childhood stories and their college experiences. They give you the “No drinking, no drugs, no sex” talk while you fold your clothes. They remind you to call home and ask for anything you might need while you walk to the bookshelf. Your dad pats you on the back and tells you he’s proud of you while you put the finishing touches on your desk. It’s starting to become real.

“Penn?” Your mom says as she’s getting ready to go. 

“Mom?” You say, nudging her arm.

“Just,” she looks like she’s going to cry. “Have fun, study hard, and I’ll see you at Christmas. We love you so much.” Suddenly there’s a lump in your throat.

“Did she start crying yet?” Your dad, ever the jokester, puts a tight arm around your mom, kissing her forehead. “She’s right. Don’t do anything stupid and don’t be afraid to call us. We love you, okay?” 

You’re at a shortage of words as you croak out a “Love you, too.” and squeeze your parents. They say their final goodbyes and you watch them leave through your dorm window. 

This morning you were nothing but a ball of excitement. Now you’re still excited, but more anxious than anything. College is a big step for anyone, but being the oldest sibling and the first kid to leave the house makes it an even bigger deal for you. You look out across the hall, waiting to see who your neighbor might be, hoping they’re not weird. You open up your class schedule about a million times before realizing you're hungry and it's time to get food. Maybe you’ll meet someone in the cafeteria. 

You walk in and realize it’s empty save for two people. Quietly, you sit down and listen to your music and eat your meal alone. The walk back to your dorm is quiet as the summer air warms your skin. You slip into your building and into your newly decorated dorm room and leave the door open, hoping to see somebody, anybody else besides your reflection. After a few minutes, your ears perk up and the sound of voices and laughter. A rush of excitement and nerves rushes through you as you debate poking your head into the hallway. When you do, you don’t regret it.

“Hey, are you new here?” A blonde girl turns to you and waves.

“Yeah! I just moved in today.” You say. She smiles and walks toward your door.

“Thank god! I thought it was just us up here.” She laughs and gestures to the girl hiding behind her. “I’m Felicity, this is my roommate Celeste!”

“Hi.” Celeste waves.

“I’m Penny, nice to meet you.” 

“If you want to come, we’re doing face masks in our room in like 20 minutes. Come in your jammies if you want to join!” Felicity offers.

“Yeah! I’d like that. What number are you?” 

“Room 314!” She smiles, turning around with Celeste and walking back to their room.

In 20 minutes sharp, you’re down the hall. You barely have to knock once when the door opens. It’s Celeste, her face covered in blue goop. She gestures to her drying mask and silently waves you in. When she shuts the door behind you, you’re welcomed by Felicity, who’s wearing a sheet mask.

“Penny! Come in. I don’t know what sorts of masks you like but there’s a ton of choices.” She says, gesturing to the wide selection of bottles and foil on the ground. 

“Holy shit.” You breathe, giggling slightly. “You guys are prepared for the apocalypse!” 

The music pairs perfectly with Celeste’s laughter as she struggles to keep her face still. You land on an eucalyptus sheet mask, supposedly for rejuvenation, and join the other two girls on the floor.

“So, Penny,” Celeste mumbles. “What brings you here?” 

Both girls eagerly await your response as you take a large sip of water.

“The English program here is amazing. I’d love to be a writer of some sort one day.” 

“Wow.” They say in unison.

“My mother used to write,” Felicity starts. “I’ve never been good at it, but she loves it. She swears it helped her through a lot when she was younger. I’d love to see what she’s hiding one day.” 

“That’s really cool!” You say. “What are you guys studying?”

“Um.” They both start at the same time.

“Biology. Hopefully that’ll land me somewhere medical-ish one day.” Says Felicity.

“Art. Why not?” Celeste shrugs. 

“Aw, man.” You sigh. “I guess we won’t have too many classes together then?” 

“Oh. Probably not.” Felicity furrows her brows and pauses the music. “But, on a different note, do you guys want to help me swipe on Tinder?” She wiggles her eyebrows mischievously. 

“Definitely.” You turn to see Celeste giving an enthusiastic thumbs up. 

The next hour and a half is spent talking, swiping through the app, comparing class schedules, and planning first day outfits. You feel your nerves melt away like the mask residue on your cheeks. Making friends should always be this easy, you decide. The three of you talk about boys, your hometowns, favorite movies, favorite books and more as the time rolls by. Suddenly, it’s midnight. 

“Oh shit.” you curse. “I have to go guys.” Celeste quirks a brow.

“Why?” She asks.

“I have a meeting with my advisor tomorrow, I’ve got some scheduling things to sort out.” They nod in understanding. “But, what if we grab lunch tomorrow? We can debrief on your Tinder dates, Felicity.” The three of you exchange a look and giggle. 

“Deal.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

The next few weeks fly by quicker than you thought. You get lunch with Celeste and Felicity almost every day and work on homework together after classes. You call home to your parents as many times as you think about it, filling them in on the important things. Your mom picked up a knitting habit in lieu of you being home and your dad is suddenly a master chef. You tell them that you don’t have any professors you don’t like. It’s a lie. Your history professor is old and unbearable, but they don’t need to know that. 

Your daily routine is the same thing all the time. You wake up and get to your morning classes, eat, maybe squeeze in a nap, and work. While your friends and lessons brighten your day, you’re starting to get bored. This is certainly not the college experience you saw in films growing up. You refuse to party despite the invitations and you don’t have time for any clubs this semester. Your socialization consists of your classes, your parents, and your two friends. No boys, no parties, and no clubs.

Week 5 of English 101 comes as an answer to your prayers. You walk across campus to class and take your spot. As you begin pulling out materials for the period, you watch as everybody else files in. It usually seems like you’re the most enthusiastic person in the room, but especially today. The other kids migrate in like zombies and if it hadn’t been for your dose of coffee and love of writing, you might have done the same. The chatter of the room fills your ears as you watch the clock, waiting for your professor. When he walks in, the room fills with quiet and half-assed attention. The change in misery makes you wonder if you're attending a funeral instead of a lecture.

“Alright, this week is your partnered report project. Here is a rubric.” He says, handing out papers to each row on seats. “As you can see, I will pick your partners for you. The prompt will be assigned to you as well and at random. The easiest way to go about this project is to decide with your partner who will research and who will type. Trust me, I’ve seen things blow up without that guidance.” 

The class laughs a little at the thought and murmurs about who they might be paired with and what their topic might be. After a moment of discussion, your professor begins to dole out partners. He reads through the list of names and as he calls out to people you watch your peers sit beside their assigned partner. About halfway through, your ears perk up at the sound of your name. 

“Penelope and Daniel are my next pair. Get working.” You scan the room for who he might be, but he’s already walking towards you. 

He’s tall, with a yellow t-shirt and black jeans. His hair is curly and beautiful, you almost want to reach out and see if it’s as soft as it looks. He’s built like an athlete, but maybe he’s just fit. His nose is gorgeous, too. It’s unique with a hooked end. How have you not seen him before?

When he clears his throat, you feel silly for staring. Scooting in your chair, you make room for him to get into the open seat next to you. He’s even prettier at eye level.

“Hi, I’m Danny!” He extends his hand to you for a shake.

“Penny.” You respond. “We didn’t get our prompt yet, did we?”

Danny shakes his head. “No. If I’m honest, this guy seems like he's a couple beakers short of a lab set.” You laugh at the comment and Danny smiles.

“I think he’s just old.” You offer, trying to be nice.

“Whatever you say.” He shoots back. “So, what’s your year and major?” 

“Freshman and English, actually. What about you?” 

“Sophomore and Education. I’ve gotta follow in the old man’s footsteps somehow, right?” He breathes a laugh.

“Oh! Does he teach?” You ask, tilting your head.

“He does. He’s damn good at it too. I always had a built-in tutor at home.”  

“Wow, that’s really special, Danny. I bet he’s happy to know that you’re keeping up the legacy.” Danny smiles and you wonder if he’s blushing for a split second.

“I hope so. I really want to golf, though. That’s where my heart is.” 

“My dad loves golf, but I’ve never understood it. I can keep up with everything else except golf.” You laugh. 

“Oh, well, the scoring is in reverse sort of, that’s the easiest way to think about it.” 

Just like that, Danny opens up to you. He tells you all about the rules and clubs and terminology. He tells you about why he loves golfing so much and why he’d do it for the rest of his life if he could. He rambles on for a few minutes and you try hanging onto every word. Your eyes flicker between his bright eyes and his smile and you find yourself getting lost in his passion for the sport. You notice how he uses his hands to speak and fixes his hair and scrunches his eyebrows and- 

“Alright, now that you’ve divided your duties, here are your prompts. They will all be based on The Great Gatsby, as that’s the only thing we’ve completed so far.” 

Just like that, it’s back to business. When the class is dismissed and after you and Danny have had time to discuss, he turns to you.

“Can I have your number?” He asks. Your heart skips a beat.

“Sure!” You respond, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

“Great! I’m free tomorrow if you want to work on the project?” He offers.

“Perfect!” You smile. That damned project. “Text me the details, I’ll let you plan since you’ve been here longer.”

“Cool.” He stands up, smiling down at you. “It was really great to meet you.” He says, meeting your eyes.

“You too! Maybe I’ll see you around later.” You say.

You slip your backpack over your shoulders and push your chair in. When you walk out, Danny follows you to the end of the hallway and rounds a different corner, but not before calling out to you.

“See you later, Penny!”

“Bye Danny!” 

Maybe this year wasn’t going to be so boring after all, you think, walking back to your dorm.

[swede1952]

Good morning. 🌳🌳🌳

24 May 2024

"Nobody knows the trouble I've seen; nobody knows my sorrow. But we have high hopes, we have high hopes, we have high in the sky apple pie hopes."

Hmmm … my wife says that the lyrics of this jingle don't go together and that they are sort of lyrics from two different songs. I think that they fit together perfectly.

Remember the book "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff," by Richard Carlson, Ph.D.? I have a copy, 1st Edition, so I've had it for a while. You see, I'm a worrier, so little details often bother me. But somebody has to worry about the details, right? It can get out of control though where little details become obsessions, which destroys inner peace.

"'Make Peace with Imperfection' …The need for perfection and the desire for inner tranquility conflict with each other." - Richard Carlson, Ph.D.

[justdancekid]

There's No Place I Rather Be - A Just Dance Fanfiction

Series: Just Dance 2023 Edition

Characters: Brezziana (Physical) and Mihaly (Rather Be)

Rating: T

Type: Song Lyrics, Fluff, Adventure

Mihaly was just studying the environment around the house of the Danceverse 5, but their eyes fell on a certain girl

Here we see the house of the Danceverse 5, where we see Mihaly doing their usual thing, meditating. They decided look around and study what the other 4 are doing.

Sara is sitting on the couch petting Discoball

Wanderlust is to Sara's right, practicing his dimension hopping skills

And, Jack Rose is at the center of the room, singing his heart out, and pretending to live the life that Night Swan refused him to live

All and all, a pretty normal day (Well, as normal as a day for 5 people with different personalities that live in the same house)

But, when Mihaly looked outside, they saw Brezziana exercising and filming a video for her millions of fans. But, for some reason, Mihaly couldn't take their eyes off of her. She was just so carefree and bubbly, but the best thing about her is her spirit, just a kind soul lighting up a room whenever she walked in.

"No! Stop that, Mihaly! She doesn't love you in that way." They told themselves, but it's no use. They loved Brezziana, they always had, from the moment they saw her. And it's not like they didn't have a reason to, she just took their hand and brought them with Wanderlust and Sara to stop Night Swan and her legion.

They was in deep thought for a while, Imagining Brezziana and them going on a private resort, playing around in the water, running in the sand, telling eachother that they love each other. And sharing a passionate kiss.

They was so in deep thought, they didn't noticed Jack calling them

"Mihaly! Mihaly! Mihaly!"

They snapped out of their trance and respond to him "Sorry, yeah?"

"Geez, I know you have a crush on Brezziana, but love really makes you deaf, huh?"

Mihaly blushed as they regret telling Jack their secret

"Come on, don't get mad, I was mearly joking."

"Okay, what is it?" Mihaly asked

"Oh, I figured out where my mom's next attack is"

"Where is it?" Sara asked

"The Golden Hall. She heard that's where everybody's gonna be at, so we need to stop her before she captures more people for her army."

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Wanderlust asked

"Simple. We got dressed as our best, and strike every mysterious shadow we see!" Jack answered.

"Now, we need somebody to tell Brezziana the plan. Mihaly, would you mind doing honors?" Jack pointed towards Mihaly

They held their breath and blushed, then answered "Y-y-yes, I could do"

"Perfect! Now go out there." Jack told them as they closed the door.

Mihaly sees Brezziana sweating as she dries off, she sees them "Oh, hey Mi! What's up?"

I love it when you call me that

"Oh, Jack told us that Night Swan is planning to attack The Golden Hall"

"Ooohh! I love that place! I love to dance!"

Mihaly just watched as she went on and on about The Golden Hall, they loved it when she gets like this. They just wanted to listen to her talk all day.

"Anyways, when's the mission again?" Brezziana asked

"Tonight"

"Okay. I'll get dressed!" She said as she ran into the house

Then a familiar song played in their head

If you give me a chance, I will take it

It's a shot in the dark, but we'll make it

Know with all of your heart, you can't same me

When I am with you, there's no place I Rather Be

All they could do is just stare up into the sky as that tune plays in her head. That is until they heard Sara calling them

"Mihaly! Mihaly come back inside!"

They snapped out of their trance and went back inside

Wow. Jack wasn't kidding