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capslocked · 11 months

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KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words.

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity.

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers.

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth.

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this.

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail.

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-"

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering -

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

(There's got so much on her mind.

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

#hyeju smut #loona smut #loona hyeju smut #loossemble smut #loossemble hyeju smut #olivia hye smut #loona olivia hye smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

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zeroreasonstocare · 18 days

Text

I Went on a Date With My Brother’s Babysitter

Finally!! The date you’ve all been waiting for (I hope)!! Please ignore any grammar errors, I spent forever on it and I’ll try to fix it as I read over it. (I reread my stuff a lot to make sure I like it still).

There will be more of this au!! Don't worry about this ending just because they went on a date! I still have plenty of fluff prompts and ideas from you guys if you send them in!!

Masterlist

〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎ ❀ 〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎

Choso is a nervous wreck. He can’t even fathom how he managed this, getting you and just you for the day. No uncle, no Yuji, not even Gojo. He dresses casual and waits outside your door, knowing you’re just as nervous as he is.

You change outfits plenty times before just settling on something casual but still nice since you’ll be going to the aquarium and probably somewhere cozy to eat.

Choso waits outside your door and his brain short circuits from how you look. It may be something you’ve worn many times in front of him before, but you’re always stunning in his eyes.

“Sorry if it looks bad, I changed like, twenty times…” You blush and push your hair to behind your ear.

“No, no, you look… you look perfect…” Choso trails off, feeling a little embarrassed by his own casual clothing.

“Thanks… You do too… Goshhh, why is this so awkwardddd?” You blush and rub your warm cheeks.

“Maybe because we said it’s a date…?”

“Right, right…” You sigh and shut your apartment door, locking it carefully behind you.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

The two of you walk out of the complex and head to the aquarium since you (somehow) live nearby, and the weather is nice. As you’re crossing the street, you subconsciously hold his hand, used to doing so during your outings with Yuji. Choso doesn’t say anything about it, instead enjoying the feel of your hand in his.

You show up to the aquarium and Choso pays for the two of you. You enter and instantly drag him to the jellyfish.

“I love these! Oh! And sharks!” You smile excitedly and look around the room of jellyfish.

Choso smiles at your wonder and excitement, showing you the touch tank that you gasp at and carefully touch the tops of the jellyfish.

“They feel funny. I bet Yuji would love it here.”

“He’s more of a zoo kid instead of aquarium.” Choso smiles and watches you fondly. “But he would probably like the tiger sharks.”

“Because they have tiger in the name?”

“Partially.” Choso laughs with you.

“What’s your favorite sea creature?” You ask Choso.

“That’s a tough choice, between sea otters, angelfish, and whale sharks. I also like jellyfish too.”

“Oh gosh, those are all such cute choices!” You smile. “And some angelfish have those stripes like the one across your nose.”

Your voice has a teasing lilt as you trace the tattoo across his nose. His cheeks flush a bit and you giggle.

“Y’know, I never asked where you got the tattoo.”

“It was a rebellious thing against my parents.”

“Really? You had a rebellious phase?”

“It was a long time ago, it’s embarrassing…”

“Come onnn, you gotta tell me someday!” You smile. “How old were you when you got it?”

“It was a before Yuji was born, I think I was 17? Paid in cash and everything.”

“Really? It still looks so fresh.”

“Whatever. I was arguing with my parents and staying with my uncle, he said he knew a guy and took me. He loved the look on my parents’ faces when I came home.”

You smile at the thought of Sukuna instigating something like that, knowing it totally fits the man.

“Your uncle does have a lot of tattoos, makes sense he’d know a guy.”

“Yeah, I kind of regret it, though. Hard to get a job with visible tattoos sometimes. But I think I have enough jobs as is.”

“That’s true. You really work hard for Yuji.” You look up at him with admiration.

He hums in agreement and looks over at an exhibit that has otters. Choso takes your hand and pulls you along.

The otter goes around its little tank, a soft thud each time it pushes off the glass to move to the slide. Choso watches with a small smile on his face and your eyes notice the way his crinkle like when he’s watching Yuji do something. Cute… You think to yourself.

He finally speaks up after a few minutes. “Let’s go pet the stingrays.”

You perk up and follow him, smiling softly as you get to the touch tank. Choso rolls up his sleeves, his forearms having muscle from the various jobs he’s had. You stare for a second too long and he notices, smiling a little and guiding your hand into the water.

The water is nice, and you feel the strange sensation of the yellow stingray’s back on your two fingers, carefully avoiding the stinger and not pressing onto the creature at all. There are some smaller creatures that can also be touched, zebra shark being your favorite in the pool.

Choso watches your face as you watch the fish just swim across people’s hands. Your eyes trail after each animal for a few seconds before moving to the next, a small smile quirking into your lips. He smiles to himself, he could look at you for hours.

The two of you dry off your arms and use the free hand sanitizer. Choso then leads you to the shark tank and you watch the animals, taking pictures and videos (respecting the rules set for photography), and speaking quietly like the sign says in the tank.

“I love love love these sharks.” You whisper.

Choso grins and watches you look around the tank, the way your eyebrows furrow for just a second when kids walk in and talk loudly. But when you realize it’s just a kid, you no longer frown and just smile at the kids’ marvels at the sharks.

Choso watches everyone filter through as you quietly talk about what you need to do this week and other plans.

“I’m practically free tomorrow, that’ll be my housekeeping day, I guess, vacuum, might rearrange… Gojo works Thursday, so I have to watch Megumi. If Yuji wants to come over and have a playdate, I can do that.”

“Mhm, I don’t work tomorrow or Thursday, so I could help. Yuji comes home Thursday morning.”

“Awesome.” You smile.

You go through the rest of the aquarium, stopping by the sharks again before looking through the gift shop.

“Ooh! Yuji would love this!” You smile and show Choso a tiger shark plushie. “And we can get him a book on sea creatures since he can read now.”

Choso smiles and grabs a few things you’d like and buys them before you can see, keeping them a surprise for holidays or your birthday.

It’s now time for dinner. Choso leads you to a cozy restaurant, and you browse the menu for anything that looks good.

“Don’t worry, I have the perfect order for you.” Choso grins.

“Oh? And what is this perfect order?”

Choso points out the most delicious looking thing on the menu and you salivate a little.

“That looks literally perfect.”

“I knew you’d like it. Tastes better than it looks too.”

“Really?”

He nods and you guys go about dinner, talking a little more romantically now that you’re out of casual topics.

“Have you had a date before?” You poke at your food which, indeed, tasted better than it looked.

“Went on a couple in high school, nothing serious. Super casual hookups too, but rare since I was more focused on my brothers.”Choso shrugs. “You?”

“Same.”

He hums and eats a few more bites before you speak up again.

“Is this a casual thing?”

Choso looks up at you, noting the uncertainty in your eyes and voice. He feels his chest tighten a little and sets his fork down.

“…honestly? No. Ever since I met you, I’ve kind of known that I felt more than casual things for you. You’re so kind to Yuji and anyone you meet, you’re funny, not to mention drop dead gorgeous-” He starts to ramble before you cut him off and blush.

“Okay, I get it, charmer…”

“…Sorry, I got carried away. It’s just- I’ve felt this way for so long, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like this for anyone.”

It’s now Choso’s turn to look at you with uncertainty. He just poured his heart out and you’re just silently staring as he speaks.

“…So you really like me?”

“…Yeah.”

“…I have too. For a while, I think.”

The air now feels a bit lighter for Choso. “That’s… that’s great, I’m glad…”

You smile a little, relieved your feelings were returned. They have been this whole time.

“Honestly, everyone around us keeps thinking we’re dating, it kind of felt like we were.” Choso laughs.

“I know, right?” You laugh too. “Gojo keeps asking if you’ve asked me out yet, then turns it to a little ‘oh maybe I’ll do it first’ thing. I can’t ever tell if he’s trying to make you jealous or if he really means it.”

“Yeah, he gets on my nerves though.”

Choso pays for the dinner and tips the nice waitress you two had, and you hold his hand again as you walk back home in the dark.

“Nice night. Quiet.” Choso muses.

“Mhm.”

“Tonight was nice.”

“Yeah, it was.” You look like you want to say more.

Choso notices that. “What is it?”

“…What… are we?”

Oh. He realized that you both didn’t really put a label on it. Sure, you had admitted your feelings, but you never really acted on it.

“What… do you want us to be…?”

“…” You lean closer to him and he blushes at the sudden proximity.

“…Do you… wanna date? Like actually label it?” He asks, suddenly unsure.

“…Yeah.” You whisper.

Choso lets out a soft breath. “Me too…”

The two of you stare at each other, really close to each other’s faces.

“…I’d kiss you but I don’t think I’d be able to stop.” He whispers.

“…You said Yuji’s not back til Thursday…”

He grins a little at the innuendo and guides you inside his apartment.

“Then let’s savor it, yeah?”

〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎ ❀ 〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎

Taglist (ask to join anytime): @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish @meowsannie

@mediokerrv @flooftoof @dazaisfavgf

#feels a little rushed… (_ _;)#part 2 smut anyone??#brothers babysitter au #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #choso fluff #choso kamo fluff #choso #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #jjk choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso kamo #kamo choso

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nightprompts · 1 year

Text

&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( dialogue prompts taken from the second season of hulu's the bear, created by christopher storer. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ you ever think about purpose? ❜

❛ i love you, but i do not have time for this, alright? ❜

❛ i have time for this. ❜

❛ you know what the fuck you're doing. you love this shit. it's fun for you. i don't have that. ❜

❛ i'm afraid one day, i'm gonna wake up and you guys are all just gonna just drop this ass. ❜

❛ if this shit is not fun for you, what the fuck is fun for you? ❜

❛ i'm not making the same mistakes i made last time. ❜

❛ what kind of insurance coverage do we have for people falling through the fucking wall? ❜

❛ sometimes, i look like february. ❜

❛ you want a sprite? you look kinda green. ❜

❛ can i ask you something and you can tell me to fuck off if you want? ❜

❛ chef, that's way too much acid. ❜

❛ you, uh, making a sundae? ❜

❛ that actually sounds delicious. ❜

❛ because you're the bear and i remember you. ❜

❛ i love taking care of you. and i always will. you know that? ❜

❛ i'm glad i came 'cause i get to eat this. ❜

❛ i gotta come up with three really great desserts. you got any ideas? ❜

❛ you ever made ice cream before, chef? want to? ❜

❛ it kind of tastes like a, um... minty snickers bar. ❜

❛ so how long you been a cook? ❜

❛ how’d you get good at this? ❜

❛ you can spend all the time in the world in here, but if you don't spend enough time out there... you know? ❜

❛ speaking of dead brothers, do you wanna go to a party? ❜

❛ it looks so pretty on you. you should keep it. ❜

❛ what's going on with you? i know there's something. just tell me. ❜

❛ what are you talking about, i don't give a fuck? why would you say that to me? i give like a huge fuck. ❜

❛ you're not by yourself, alright? i'm right here with you. ❜

❛ did you just throw a fork at me? ❜

❛ i think time spent doing this is time well spent. ❜

❛ never too late to start over. ❜

❛ i just want you to know... that this is really nice. ❜

❛ i'm thinking you're very, very beautiful. ❜

❛ we just don't say hello anymore? ❜

❛ you're wearing a suit? ❜

❛ uh, yeah, i wear suits now. ❜

❛ i'm sorry if i took anything out on you and if I treated you like shit. ❜

❛ i actually do think that we could fit good together. ❜

❛ i could be good at things that you don't really wanna do. and you're obviously really great at a whole bunch of stuff that I don't know how to do, you know? ❜

❛ i'm wearing a suit 'cause it makes me feel better about myself. ❜

❛ i know that you're trying. i see that you're trying. ❜

❛ you just came from a funeral? ❜

❛ yeah, a funeral of all my enemies. ❜

❛ you want me to make you some coffee? ❜

❛ i just need your focus like you need mine. ❜

❛ you good? ❜

❛ what's your relationship with your mom like? ❜

❛ alright, chef, i need you to salt that like a sidewalk. ❜

❛ looks gorgeous, chef. ❜

❛ i haven't eaten yet. ❜

❛ oh, let me make you something. ❜

❛ yeah, i can make you an omelet. ❜

❛ that wasn't like an ask out or anything, was it? ❜

❛ i'm looking really good. i 'm thinking you should start calling me chef. ❜

❛ well, i'mma keep calling you jagoff, 'cause that's what you like. ❜

❛ you deserve my full focus. ❜

❛ i guess i'm scared that i don't have what it takes to not fuck this up. ❜

❛ you're not gonna fuck it up. ❜

❛ i fuck things up all the time, like, every day. ❜

❛ you could do this without me. ❜

❛ i couldn't do it without you. i wouldn't even wanna to do it without you. ❜

❛ you make me better at this. ❜

❛ you still love to cook, right? ❜

❛ how's the wine? ❜

❛ yo. we're low on forks, chef. ❜

❛ okay, let's start firing some caviar, please. ❜

❛ i was just gonna say how special and cool and great this place is and how i'm the most proud of you ever. ❜

❛ i really appreciate you being so patient with me. ❜

❛ do i have time to go outside and scream "fuck"? ❜

❛ just don't tell them you saw me, 'cause this is embarrassing. ❜

❛ i love them so much. i don't know how to show it. ❜

❛ i don't know how to say i'm sorry. ❜

❛ i need you to say it's okay. ❜

❛ you are being so fucking weird, man. ❜

❛ i'm stuck in a goddamn refrigerator on the opening night of my fucking restaurant. ❜

❛ i failed you guys and it's not gonna happen again. ❜

❛ maybe i'm just not built for this. ❜

❛ because no amount of good is worth how terrible this feels. ❜

❛ i'm really sorry you feel that way. ❜

❛ would you shut the fuck up and get me the fuck outta here, please? ❜

❛ i don't understand why you can't just let something good happen for once in your fucking life? ❜

❛ you wanna talk to me about my fucking kid? at least i got a kid. ❜

❛ where were you when i fucking put your brother in the ground, you selfish piece of shit? ❜

❛ i fucking love you! ❜

❛ you fucking need me. ❜

❛ i just had this sudden urge to tell you that i've always had this, like, massive crush on you. ❜

❛ i love you, chef. ❜

#the bear #sentence starters #roleplay memes #rp memes #dialogue prompts #inbox memes #ask memes #writing prompts #rp starters #tv

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kinardsevan · 3 months

Note

I don't know if it's enough of a prompt but : Tommy says I love you first

i come to you in pieces (so you can make me whole)

He never intends it to be a big thing. He’s done the whole to-do before, made a whole thing out of telling someone exactly where his heart is in the mix of it all. The first serious relationship he had after coming out felt like doing everything for the first time, and in a lot of ways it was. He’d spent so much of his adult life trying to fit into a hetero-normative relationship that when he finally met a guy and fell in love and everything felt the way all the movies and songs described it, he wanted all of it.

And granted, he’s always been a hopeless romantic at heart. Maybe that was a form of self-preservation in the midst of all the loneliness, that he could believe that someone might actually come along one day and sweep him away the way all the movies say happens. Still, when he’s actually had those moments, they never measured up. He’s given his entire heart to someone on a silver platter, flowers and candles included, only to have that moment fall short of what he expects out of it.

But then he meets Evan.

And it’s a tenuous thing for a while. Because when they first meet, and the first date falls flat on his face with Evan basically shoving them both back in the closet, he’s sure that this gorgeous man he’s felt his heart quickening at is just another passing blip, something he probably shouldn’t let himself get so tied down too. He reminds himself not to get too excited when Chimney or Hen calls about something small; when Eddie wants to know if he wants to rent the next fight and split the price.

And then Evan calls back and asks him out for coffee. And Tommy knows how much courage it takes, just to take another stab at something when it’s already fallen on its face once. He understands even more how scary it is to suggest the idea that the person you’re dating wants to out themselves to an entire group of people, more specifically their group of people. But for as apprehensive as he was, the wedding went off without (much of) a hitch, save for the awkward glances coming from the Buckley parents. Still, Tommy had long since learned that Evan’s thoughts on whose opinion really mattered about his personal life had more to do with Bobby Nash and Athena Grant than it did Philip and Margaret Buckley.

He knows it’s coming after that; knows that even if Evan isn’t quite ready to shout from the rooftops that he’s bisexual, that at the very least, he’s okay with his loved ones knowing, and that’s what really matters to Tommy. As it is, Evan becomes the one who takes on a penchant for PDA, whether it’s a hospital waiting room, a bar on a Friday night after a shift, or the middle of the Pride parade. Tommy knows Evan meant it when he wasn’t sure what he was ready for, and he’d never mention it out loud for fear of scaring him back into some need to cower from outside opinions that don’t actually matter, but his boyfriend is no shrinking violet in embracing letting people know just how much he likes Tommy. And at that point, how is Tommy not supposed to fall back?

He waits a respectable amount of time. Even though they never actually put an exclusivity label on it all, neither of them are seeing other people. Dates on days off turn into showing up for each other atter a long shift, which turn into overnights, and then long weekends. They still live separately, but Tommy isn’t entirely sure why when one of them is always at the other’s place. Showing up for a loved one becomes a package deal, mostly because they’re just so limited already in the amount of time they get with one another.

Maddie tells him she thinks it’s cute. Chimney jokes that it’s gross, that he doesn’t need to see his brothers quite that domestic with one another, though he refuses to admit that he finds it endearing. Eddie just gags at the sight of them at this point. Hen never complains, instead only ever commenting that she’s happy to see her two friends finally settled in a relationship, although the fact that it’s with each other was never on her bingo card.

And Bobby…well Bobby sees it before he ever says a word. In the midst of a family dinner (breakfast) at the end of a long shift for the 118 that Tommy showed up to because Evan’s jeep was in the shop, and they already had plans to spend the weekend together.

“You should tell him,” Bobby says after sending the rest of the shift off to change into their civies.

“Hmm?”

Bobby tilts his head at Tommy. “It’s written all over your face, Tommy. And I think everyone knows it but him.”

Tommy can’t help glancing towards the first floor then, apprehensive at the suggestion.

“Besides,” Bobby continues, drawing his attention back. “The whole house is betting on Buck going first, and I’ve got five hundred on you.”

. . .

They’re standing in the kitchen again. They’d fallen asleep after getting back to Evan’s place when his shift ended, taken some well-deserved rest. After waking up, Evan had mentioned wanting to go back to their place; Miceli’s is only known to them as that now. It’s a Friday night, so Tommy had to call ahead to make sure they’d have the table, but at this point, there’s very little he’s not willing to do to satisfy his boyfriends wants and needs, regardless as to how ridiculous they may get.

Evan is rambling on about another deep dive, and Tommy doesn’t mind. He enjoys learning little things from the vast amounts of knowledge his boyfriend consumes. More than that, he enjoys the way Evan lights up when he gets on a tangent. As the girls would say, it something about Evan that makes him get all “swirly”.

“So I said to Eddie, just because giraffes are more likely than people to get struck by lightning doesn’t necessarily mean that they will be. I mean I think I proved-..”

“I’m so in love with you,” he murmurs as Evan’s midway through his sentence.

The blonde stares at him slackjawed, eyes unfocused and looking as though he’s just found the answers to a question he never thought to ask but always wondered, the very same way he did the first time they kissed.

“W-what,” he rasps.

Tommy gives a small nod, the hint of a smile on his face as his eyes trail down Evan’s chest, the fingers on his left hand rubbing gentle circles over Evan’s hip. His gaze drifts back up, finding those crystal blue eyes he so desperately wants to spend every spare second drowning in.

“I’m in love with you, Evan,” he says in that monotone voice, like he’s not shifting their entire universe with those six words. “Stay awake after a twenty-four, drink your god-awful idea of good coffee, let all of my limbs fall go numb if it makes you comfortable to fall asleep on me, in love with you.”

Evan clears his throat then, but Tommy has a front-row view to the way tears run into his waterline, and it occurs to him in that moment, maybe someone has never actually told his boyfriend that he matters that much to them. And on one hand, he’s glad he gets to be the first, but on the other, he wants to fill a room with every person that’s ever claimed to love Evan Buckley in the past and ask them how they could possibly tell him that without explaining just how much.

“You don’t have to say it back right now,” he continues. “I just wanted you to know that; that I love you.”

Evan lifts his hand to Tommy’s shoulder and takes a step forward, fingers wrapped around the other man’s collarbone as he leans into him, slides his tongue into Tommy’s mouth. There’s such a gentleness about it, that Tommy almost doesn’t need the words. Any clarity of what exists between them burns its brightest when they’re like this, skin on skin, always needing to touch one another to ground themselves.

He breaks them apart after a time, eyes closed for half a second longer, just taking in the moment. Evan’s hand shifts up, rests against the side of his neck as his thumb trails over Tommy’s jaw.

“I think I fell in love with you the first time we stood here,” Evan admits softly. “When you asked me if it was okay that you kissed me.”

Tommy lets out a silent chuckle as a smile crosses his face. Evan tilts his head to the side, that same sheepish smile Tommy has come to love playing on his features. Tommy finally manages to lift his gaze and meet Evan’s once more, bringing a thumb up to brush against his bottom lip.

“If you had told me flying into a hurricane on a whim would get me here, I think I would’ve called your bluff.”

Tommy’s smile pulls wider across his face and he leans back in, kisses the corner of Evan’s mouth. He tilts his head up then, whispers into Evan’s ear.

“I thank God every day that I answered Chim’s phone call because I don’t want a version of this life that doesn’t have you in it.”

Evan leans into him at those words, buries his face in the crook of Tommy’s neck, and Tommy kisses his shoulder as his hand runs over Evan’s back soothingly. When Evan finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against Tommy’s, eyes closed, swept up in the wave of emotion the conversation has brought up between them.

“I feel so lucky to get to love you, be in love with you.” He pauses for a tick. “Be loved by you.”

“There’s no luck involved, babe,” Tommy murmurs to him. Even with his eyes closed, tears slip past them, and then Tommy’s hands are on his face, wiping them away.

“You are so deserving of it, Evan,” he tells him softly. “And you make it so easy.”

#bucktommy #ficlet #mini fic #tevan #kinley #evan buckley x tommy kinard #firebeast #firepilot #the ally and the beast #first i love you #tommy says it first #i posted the right one this time

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lancermylove · 2 months

Text

Random HCs

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: No pairing. Featuring DB and Royals.

Warning: None

Prompt: Random HCs for chuckles and giggles.

A/N: For all those who are exhausted, having a bad day, and struggling, I hope this makes you laugh.

———————————————

Lucifer

Lucifer has a secret stash of stress balls in his office, each one the color associated with a brother. So, whichever brother causes him stress, he takes his frustration out on that stress ball.

He once tried to join a yoga class to relax at Asmo's request but turned it into a competition to be the most flexible.

Lucifer has a weekly "evil laugh" practice session to maintain his intimidating reputation. He has quite the evil laugh, and no one can beat its evilness.

He sometimes wears sunglasses indoors so no one can see him roll his eyes at his brothers' antics.

Lucifer keeps a detailed diary of all the times Mammon has tried to borrow money and failed. He opens the diary whenever he has a bad day and needs a laugh.

He has a secret collection of cute puppy videos that he watches to de-stress after a long day. Sometimes, he watches them with Cerberus, and the hellhound's three heads tilt side to side curiously, looking at the videos.

Mammon

Mammon once tried to make a pyramid scheme business involving selling rare pebbles he found in the backyard.

He secretly practices his cool guy poses in front of the mirror every morning.

Mammon has a collection of sunglasses, each pair named after a famous celebrity from the human realm.

He’s convinced that adding “The Great” before his name on all his social media profiles will make him go viral. Asmo has told him many times it won't work, but Mammon is determined.

The brothers catch Mammon often talking to inanimate objects, like convincing his wallet to magically refill itself. Asmo even has a few videos of these conversations on his phone. If you want to see it, Asmo is taking a payment of cheek kisses for each video.

Mammon once got stuck in a vending machine while trying to get a snack that got jammed. It turned out the vending machine was a mimic. His brothers still tease him about it.

Mammon thinks he’s a master chef because he can make instant noodles without burning them.

The second brother invented a new dance move called "The Mammon Shuffle," but it looks suspiciously like him tripping over his own feet.

Levi

He once spent a week trying to train Henry to play video games with him. Then, he spent the following week sulking because Henry couldn't play with him.

Levi’s closet is 90% cosplay outfits and 10% regular clothes.

He has a secret shrine dedicated to Ruri Chan that even his brothers don’t know about. Levi refuses to tell you how much money he spent on the merch; he doesn't want Lucifer to find out and toss him to Cerberus as an afternoon snack.

Whenever Levi is losing an argument, he uses gamer lingo to throw the other person into confusion. Then, he takes a chance and runs away.

He has a collection of every limited-edition gaming console ever released.

Levi once tried to program his own virtual assistant but ended up creating an AI that only responds in overly dramatic anime lines.

Satan

Satan secretly watches cheesy soap operas but tells everyone it's for "research purposes."

Satan once tried to teach a cat hidden in his room to fetch his books, but the cat sat on them instead.

He has an extensive collection of cat memes saved on his phone, which he shares during family meetings to lighten the mood.

Satan keeps a journal of prank ideas specifically for pranking Lucifer, but most of the ideas are too elaborate to ever pull off.

He once tried to create a potion to understand cats, but the potion made him meow uncontrollably for a day.

Satan has a habit of correcting grammar and spelling mistakes in grimoires and books.

Satan attempted to join a book club but got kicked out for getting too competitive during discussions.

He has a secret stash of cat toys and treats in his room that he uses to lure stray cats into the House of Lamentation.

Asmo

Asmo has a dedicated “selfie spot” in every room of the House of Lamentation. If you need a spot to take selfies, just ask him.

He once tried to make his own beauty product line, but most of the products ended up being glittery versions of everyday items. Demons complained that Asmo tried to make them look like fairies.

He keeps an emergency beauty kit under his pillow in case he needs a touch-up in the middle of the night. After all, he needs to wake up looking perfect every morning.

Asmo has a habit of leaving love notes for himself around the house. When the brothers find them, they get very confused.

He once tried to teach his brothers a synchronized dance routine for a RAD talent show, but it turned into a hilarious disaster. Diavolo secretly recorded the video and likes to watch it when he needs a good laugh.

Asmo is convinced that wearing different colored socks affects his mood, so he carefully plans which socks to wear every morning.

Beel

Beel once tried to eat a bottomless bag of chips, only to realize it was an illusion created by Satan to keep him busy.

He once tried to enter a competitive eating contest but got disqualified for eating the other contestants' food before the competition started.

Beel has an uncanny ability to identify each ingredient in a dish just by smelling it once. He can even tell the measurement amount, like 1.5 cups of butter.

He once attempted to cook a seven-course meal but ended up eating each course before starting the next.

Beel is banned from most all-you-can-eat restaurants in the human realm. He has even caused some restaurants to go bankrupt.

He sometimes accidentally eats the props in his brothers’ pranks, leading to confusing and hilarious outcomes.

Belphie

He has a secret talent for falling asleep in the most uncomfortable-looking positions, much to the amazement of his brothers. Satan has a log of the different positions Belphie slept in for science purposes.

Belphie likes to prank his brothers by pretending to be asleep and then startling them with sudden movements or comments.

He keeps a list of the best napping spots around the House of Lamentation, constantly updating it based on comfort and noise levels.

Belphie sometimes sleepwalks into his brother's rooms in the middle of the night and steals their blanket. When they wake up feeling cold, they see Belphie sleeping on the floor, curled up under their blanket.

He once tried to convince everyone that sleeping with a specific pillow would give them prophetic dreams. Mammon tried to turn this into a money-making scheme but failed.

Belphie can identify each brother by the sound of their footsteps. This way, he doesn't need to wake up if one of the brothers he doesn't want to deal with is around.

Diavolo

Someone once told Diavolo he looks too cute to be a prince. Diavolo tried to grow a mustache to look more intimidating, but it was too itchy, and he gave up.

He secretly practices villainous monologues in front of a mirror, complete with dramatic gestures, just for fun.

Diavolo has a secret room in the castle filled with all the human realm souvenirs he's collected, including a giant plushie collection. Only Barbatos is allowed in the room to clean it when needed.

The prince once tried to understand human slang by binge-watching teen dramas. This resulted in him using slang phrases in his formal speech and confusing everyone.

Diavolo has a habit of challenging demons in the castle to friendly competitions, like who can build the tallest pancake stack...much to Barbatos’ dismay.

He secretly practices human dance trends in front of a mirror, hoping to impress you and Solomon.

The prince has a habit of giving overly enthusiastic high-fives, sometimes sending the other person stumbling backward. Diavolo forgets how strong he is.

Diavolo loves dad jokes and often tries them out on the brothers but gets collective groans and facepalms in response.

Barbatos

He has a hidden talent for stand-up comedy but only practices in front of his mirror when he’s sure no one’s watching.

Barbatos has a secret collection of novelty aprons with quirky phrases, which he wears while cooking when no one is around.

Barbatos keeps a detailed journal of all the times he’s had to clean up after Diavolo’s “enthusiastic” projects, complete with the commentaries from the peanut gallery.

He also keeps a list of all the times he had to intervene in the brothers’ schemes. That too by rank of how ridiculous they were.

The butler has a secret talent for juggling, which he practices with kitchen utensils while he waits for dishes to finish cooking.

Barbatos has a habit of organizing the pantry alphabetically, and he gets annoyed when someone messes it up.

He once tried to teach a cooking class to the brothers, but it turned into a comedy show with flying ingredients and accidental fires. Then, Solomon showed up the next day asking for cooking lessons, and Barbatos disappeared into thin air. Now, Solomon is permanently banned from entering the royal kitchen.

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

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mcflymemes · 4 months

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ANYONE BUT YOU (2023) PROMPTS * assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

you still live at 28 fuckboy lane?

there's a reason why you're alone. no one can trust you.

i still think about the night we spent together.

these last few days really made me realize how much i miss you.

that night at your place, no matter how it ended, it was still pretty amazing.

so... you gonna kiss me now?

you'll always be my rock bottom.

okay, nuzzle my neck. get in there.

we are not together. we were faking it the whole time.

we have to kick it up a notch. make it feel like we're in the ga-ga stage.

you know, i feel really bad about that.

did you catch him measuring his dick with a ruler app?

you scared the shit out of me.

we're getting pretty good at faking it.

it doesn't matter how we found out.

permission to put my left hand on your right buttock?

okay, not in circles. it's not a magic lamp.

are you not wearing underwear?

we do not inherit the earth. we just borrow it from our creatures.

i have a better idea. you just let me do everything.

thanks for being so cool about all of this.

you want a coffee? it's the best n the world.

there's only one bed, but we hung a shower curtain in the middle.

hi. where's your bathroom?

i could have done it myself, but whatever. thanks.

thanks for not stealing my coat.

is that really a two person job?

you would let me die?

they think i'm throwing my life away.

no, that was rude. i apologize to anyone that was listening.

i don't know. i'm not good at this, sorry.

i'm from a different generation.

i'm not talking about love. i'm talking about dick.

all that matters is that we're together.

that's not me anymore. i'm free now. i'm deprogrammed.

no way, that man does not have a heart.

well, that didn't take long.

if i never ask you for anything ever again, can you please just lay off of me this weekend?

let's just have a moment to calm ourselves.

no one cares. no one can see us.

we were on a break, asshole.

either way, someone's lying to someone.

i must have really gotten under your skin.

you used none of those terms properly.

i cannot believe i just said that out loud.

i'm sorry. my life is a disaster right now.

look at this place. it looks like every serial killer reenactment documentary.

no matter how broken something is, there's always a way to fix it.

this whole thing is so new to me.

i don't really like labels, but i like you a whole bunch.

so are you going to ask me out now?

so if we were getting attacked by giant spiders, you would not be able to protect us?

you two know each other?

i'm going to go grab a drink. door's that way if you're looking to sneak out. i know that's your thing.

i'm going to get a drink and toast to never seeing you again.

how crazy is it that we're on the same plane?

why do so many of us feel stuck?

you don't even play tennis.

we're fine if he just stays away from me.

you're such a romantic.

i was hoping you'd come. i wanted to message you, but i didn't know how you'd feel about hearing from me.

they're also a little worried how you're gonna react to all this.

you have a little something in your teeth.

we need to come up with a game plan.

you are so terrible at this.

it's harder than you think.

they know i would never go out with a guy like you.

we just suck face in front of everybody.

you're calling me a fuckboy like it's an insult? i own that shit.

let's just be affectionate. i know it's a foreign concept for you.

you were the one who said there's a thin line between love and hate.

i think it was more of a euphemism for crying alone.

i definitely didn't hate you.

last night was the first thing i haven't regretted in a long time.

i love the weird way you stick your hand down my pants.

#thank you to fxcdboys for the suggestion!!!#rp prompt #rp meme #mcflymemes #rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #ask meme #rp starters #roleplay meme #ask memes #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter #sentence starter prompt #sentence starters

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adverbally · 20 days

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We Gotta Hide What We’re Doing

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “‘I’m not going to beg you to love me.’” | wc: 1,161 | rated: T | cw: period-typical homophobia, fears of violent homophobia (mentioned only) | tags: physical touch as a love language, feeling rejected, heart to heart car conversations, happy ending | title from “I Think We’re Alone Now” by Tiffany

And with this prompt, August is over! I’m so proud to have kept up with the challenge all month and filled all 31 prompts. Thank you to everyone who has read along and been so kind and friendly. I definitely plan to write more Steddie, so keep an eye out for my Smutty September entries if you’re into that. If you have a request or a comment to share, feel free to message me or send me an ask. I hope September treats you well! 💕

———

Steve has always been an affectionate person. Clapping his hand on someone’s shoulder, ruffling the kids’ hair, sitting too close, reaching out for comfort— he’s just a tactile guy. It’s no different in his romantic relationships, always clinging with an arm around his partner’s waist and sprinkling chaste kisses wherever he can reach. He shows his love through touch.

That’s what’s so hard about being with Eddie.

In private, Eddie is almost as touchy as Steve is, quick to drape an arm around Steve’s shoulder during the Party’s movie nights and leave the room with a peck on the lips. He loves to come up behind Steve and hug him around the waist, swaying them and nuzzling into the crook of Steve’s neck. They sleep cuddled together so closely that Steve wakes up damp with sweat when their shared body heat gets to be too much.

Their regular amount of physical contact makes it all the more startling when they’re in public together and Eddie keeps a solid three feet of space between them at all times.

It might not be that obvious to anyone else, but Steve notices how deliberately Eddie avoids touching him. He steps out of Steve’s reach when he brushes the small of his back, he dodges when Steve tries to hold his hand, he’ll stand up and switch to another seat if Steve dares to sit directly across from him at the diner.

Steve isn’t dumb; he understands the need to be cautious. They’re two queer boys in small-town Indiana, and he’s not trying to get his ass kicked by some asshole who thinks men shouldn’t be able to touch without bursting into flames. But he sees Eddie horsing around with Dustin in the aisles of Melvald’s and giving Gareth a piggyback ride down Main Street and he has to wonder… Is it me?

Would it be different if Eddie was dating someone else? Would he be comfortable with a subtle back rub or a brush of pinkies if it didn’t come from Steve? Maybe he’d feel more secure with a tougher looking guy, someone more metal, a jock with a more imposing physique, someone who’s not so fastidious about their hair or keeping their sneakers clean.

Maybe Eddie is just ashamed to be seen with Steve.

The thought is totally unreasonable, but it lingers. It’s there when he and Eddie stand in line for the ice cream truck, so far apart that they get separated by a family of five. It’s there when he watches Eddie drape himself over Jeff‘s back after a long rehearsal, their cheeks practically touching where Eddie’s chin hooks over his shoulder. It’s there when he watches Eddie drag Dustin around the comic book store with a hand wrapped around his forearm, pulling him through the shelves until Steve loses track of them.

It’s that evening that Steve finally has to say something. He’s driving Eddie home after dropping off Dustin, half-listening to Eddie thinking aloud through new campaign plots and song ideas, but all Steve can think about is how he hasn’t touched his boyfriend all day, even though they’ve spent the last seven hours together.

The next time they stop at a red light, Steve reaches for Eddie’s hand where he’s drumming his fingers over his faded black jeans.

Eddie pulls away so fast it’s like an honest-to-god flinch.

“Okay, we need to talk about this,” Steve declares as he turns the corner and maneuvers the Beemer into one of the parking spaces off the main drag. “Why won’t you let me touch you?”

Uncharacteristically quiet, Eddie fiddles with the distressed knee of his pants. He doesn’t look up when he says, “We’re in public.”

“We’re in my car after midnight on a Wednesday, there’s nobody around,” Steve points out, gesturing at the empty streets surrounding them.

Eddie sighs, “Steve—”

“It’s like you’re a totally different person when you’re out with me. At home, I practically have to pry you off me to get anything done. With the Corroded Coffin guys and the kids, you goof around with them like your usual handsy self,” Steve explains, staring straight out the windshield at the old brick facade of the building before them. “So maybe you can see the conclusion I’m drawing here, when it’s just me, in public, that you seem to have a problem with.”

“It’s not like that.” Eddie’s voice is flat. It sounds nothing like him, which makes something ache in Steve’s chest.

“Then what’s it like?”

Eddie erupts, “I’m not brave like you, okay? I’m fucking scared. I’m always worried about somebody trying to start shit because I dared to look at another man in front of them.”

“But with the other guys, you—”

“It’s different. Because I don’t want to touch them like I want to touch you.” He sniffles, gaze still trained on the rings he’s twisting around his fingers. “With you, I… sometimes it feels like I can’t stop, you know?”

Steve does know. He thinks of Eddie kissing him hello in the doorway when Steve gets home from work, how one kiss becomes several and they end up stumbling up the stairs to Steve’s bedroom, never taking their hands off each other. He thinks of lacing his fingers between Eddie’s while they watch a movie, how it turns into massaging the sore spots in Eddie’s wrist and kissing the back of his hand in a chivalric gesture.

“So it feels safer not to touch you at all,” Eddie concludes. “Then I can’t get carried away.”

Steve is quiet for a long time, letting the weight of Eddie’s confession settle, before he says, “I’m sorry.”

Eddie glances at him out of the corner of his eye but hides the motion by wiping his face with his sleeve. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you just wanted to know what was going on.”

“I could’ve been less of an asshole about it.” It only feels fair for Steve to share a vulnerable feeling of his own. “It’s just, I’ve been with people who were embarrassed to be with me, or who were ashamed of their feelings or whatever. And it sucked, trying to convince them that I was worth their attention.” Steve lets out a long breath through his nose. “I’ve done it before, but I’m not going to beg you to love me, too. I’m glad I didn’t have to.”

Eddie’s smile, when he finally raises his head and turns to look at Steve, is small but genuine. “You’d have to beg me to stop.” When he holds out his hand with a wiggle of his fingers, Steve takes it.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve looks around the empty streets exaggeratedly. “It’s just you and me, and we can be back at my place in less than five minutes if you can’t contain yourself,” he teases.

“You’re pushing it,” Eddie warns with a raised eyebrow, but he leans in to meet Steve’s lips anyway.

#steddieangstyaugust #steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve/eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #mine #I’m actually so emo about completing the month #before August I don’t think I had finished and posted any fic in literal years #and here we are #:)

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beyondthesefourwalls · 10 months

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Merry Christmas Mishaps

Summary: Christmas looked a little different this year, and Javy knew you were having a hard time adjusting to it. You were used to the lights and the hustle and - God help him, the snow - that came with where you had called home for so long. You had given all that up to move to California to be with him, and he decided that if he couldn’t get you back on the east coast for the holiday, maybe he could improvise and start making new traditions here together, with a few surprises along the way.

Pairing: Javy Machado x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Warm fuzzy Hallmark feelings. Non-descriptive smut that’s more alluded to but still there.

Notes: Back on my Javy Needs More Love agenda, but make it the ✨Holiday Edition✨

Written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Challenge with the prompt "I have a secret".

---

Christmas looked a little different this year, and Javy knew you were having a hard time adjusting to it.

When you had fallen in love with him, agreeing to move to San Diego to be with him since he couldn’t exactly relocate for you (he would have, in a heartbeat), you had done so with little to no hesitation. Being together was worth getting used to a new time zone and weather patterns. Last year, he had accompanied you home for the holidays, being introduced to every aunt and uncle and cousin twice removed as the boyfriend who had whisked you away to sunny California, experiencing every tradition and festive tourist trap he could have imagined, his cheeks cold and his toes numb, but with a giant smile on his face because of how happy you were.

This year, though, he had drawn the short straw amongst his squad and would be working half a day on the 23rd and then the day after Christmas, too. And you, in all of your beauty and grace and complete and utter stubbornness, had refused to entertain the idea of going home by yourself.

“For God’s sake, Javy. You think I’d let you spend Christmas alone?”

You had sounded truly scandalized at the suggestion, and neither of you had talked about it since.

But he knew.

You were as cheerful as ever on the outside, even more so, really, overcompensating with the winter wonderland that your shared condo had turned into. Hardly a surface wasn’t covered in something festive since your negotiated date of the 15th of November (you were of the belief that Christmas started on November 1st, where he was a strict after Thanksgiving guy). Christmas playlists were on a constant rotation, and he’d watched more Hallmark movies in the last few weeks than he was willing to admit. You were doing everything right to make it seem like you were in the holiday spirit, but he could see the way the light in your eye dimmed just the slightest bit when you didn’t realize he was looking, and how sometimes your smile was just the tiniest bit forced.

He knew that you missed the familiarity of home and the warmth of family and tradition. He had tried to get your parents out here instead, but it hadn’t worked out like he had hoped. It really would just be the two of you for Christmas. You had assured him that that was all you needed, and deep down, he knew you were telling the truth. Still, he wished he could do something more to make it feel like what you were used to.

It was a week before the holiday when the idea came to him. You were watching yet another Hallmark movie, set in a snowy mountain town that was fighting to keep a beloved bakery alive (or maybe it was a toy shop, the plot lines were all starting to blend together for him), and you made an off hand comment about the likelihood of ever seeing snow while living in California. It was nearly two AM as you both slept in bed under a green and red duvet when his eyes popped open and he shot up to grab his laptop, suddenly knowing exactly what he could do.

Javy spent the next several days feverishly planning, making calls and sending emails in between hops and classes. He felt like a kid trying to keep the ultimate Christmas present a surprise, giddy with excitement. It was a gamble, the forecast changing almost by the hour, but he was confident it would be worth it.

Coming home from work at lunch time on the 23rd, he was practically vibrating with anticipation. You were in the kitchen transferring cookies into a tin from a baking sheet when he walked through the door, the condo smelling like chocolate and sugar. Michael Buble played in the background, and he couldn’t help but watch you for a moment before he announced his presence.

“Hey baby,” he said. You spun to face him, and he could see the touch of melancholy in your eyes.

“Hey you.”

He crossed the room to wrap his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. You pressed your face into the crook of his neck and he could feel the way your body relaxed against his. He held you tighter. “Merry Christmas Eve Eve,” he whispered into your hair, and you giggled as you pulled away to look at him, your smile warm and sincere. He felt a flutter that he was able to do that.

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve,” you returned, raising on your toes to kiss him. He could taste your peppermint chapstick on your lips.

“I have something for you,” he said, and your eyebrow raised in question. He shot you a wink and squeezed your hips before he stepped away. He practically jogged over to the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, grabbing one of the boxes he had placed there earlier this week and hurrying back to you. He held it out to you with a dramatic bow, causing another laugh to escape from between your pretty lips. “For you, m’lady.”

“You’re such a dork,” you said, but there was fondness laced through your voice, and Javy just smiled. You took the box from him, running your finger over the shimmering gold wrapping paper. You looked at the gift wistfully before looking back at him. “It’s not Christmas yet.”

“An early gift. Come on, open it. For me?”

You rolled your eyes at his exaggerated puppy dog expression that he played up just for you. With a sigh that quickly turned into an excited grin, you tore into the paper. He laughed as you did, knowing that no matter how hard you tried to hide it, you loved presents.

He could tell you were confused when you pulled out the soft, fluffy scarf, followed by the matching beanie, both in a dark forest green that he knew you favored.

“These are so nice, baby. I love them. But it’s 70 degrees outside right now?”

Javy nodded, not bothering to fight the smile that was taking over his face. “Yeah, but it’s colder up in the mountains. So you might need to bundle up.”

You looked up at him in shock, your eyes widening with each passing second. “What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I rented us a cabin up in Big Bear. It’s just for a couple of days, but I thought maybe we could get away just the two of us. Maybe get some snow and have a white Christmas after all, if the weather pulls through. But at least a colder one, just like you like.”

You were staring at him with a mix of disbelief and pure joy, and Javy knew he had made the right decision in surprising you. He mentally captured the look on your face right now, wanting to keep it as a memory forever.

“Javy…”

It wasn’t often that you were speechless, and he couldn’t help the laugh he let out as he asked, “Are you surprised?”

Instead of answering, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tight. You wrapped your legs around him when he lifted you off your feet and pulled back just far enough to kiss him soundly.

“This is the best gift ever,” you whispered against his lips. “I love you.”

You were on the road within the next two hours, the presents from under your tree all packed up in the car as well as the cookies you had just freshly baked. It was almost a three hour drive and by the time he was winding his truck up the mountain side, the sun was setting. You were leaning as far as you could against the window, eyes glued on the outdoor landscape. A thin sheen of snow lined the ground, and you could see the faint shine of Christmas lights from tucked away houses.

Javy reached over to take your hand, lacing your fingers together. You turned to him smiling, and he felt his heart swell. He knew that this was exactly what you needed.

He helped you out of the car once he parked in the small driveway, and he could see the awe written all over your face. The cabin was wooden and cozy, the outside completely decked out in twinkling lights. He could see through the windows that the inside had lights on, too, and he knew the request he had put in with the rental company to have all the Christmas lights up and turned on at the time of arrival had been fulfilled.

“Oh, baby,” you breathed, spinning in a slow circle once you walked through the front door. The cabin itself was small, a studio set up where every room flowed together with ease and little separation, but it was decorated just as extravagantly as the condo, only moreso, somehow, with the mountain environment and cabin feel adding a deeper element of festivity.

“This is beautiful,” you said softly. Javy dropped the bags by the door and closed the small distance between you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, his breath warm against your ear. "I know Christmas looks a little different this year. So I wanted to make it special for you."

You turned in his arms to look at him, eyes shining with tears. “You make everything special,” you told him, and he could hear the conviction in your voice that made it so he couldn’t help but believe you. "Thank you," you whispered. "This means everything to me." You kissed him, and Javy held you close, his hand stroking your back in a soothing rhythm.

You kept things simple that night, making an easy dinner and then cuddling up on the small couch in front of the fireplace to watch a movie. He insisted on something not Hallmark, and you didn’t fight him at all, laughing as you threw on The Santa Clause instead.

The next day, the two of you went all out on modified versions of your family’s Christmas traditions. You made an absolute feast for breakfast, full of way too many carbs and way too much sugar that you both ate happily and without a care in the world. You baked even more cookies, and Javy discovered that he had quite the talent for decorating them. The two of you laughed and teased each other as you both tried to outdo each other’s designs, and he kissed your pout away when you eventually conceded defeat.

“You’re too perfect. It’s actually ridiculous.”

You went for a walk in the early afternoon, bundled up in coats you never got use out of in San Diego. You wore the scarf and hat that he got for you and kept your hand in his the entire way. When you got back to the cabin, noses and fingers cold, you started cooking a meal that was way too much for two people. Normally that was reserved for Christmas day, but you’d have to head back home tomorrow night so you were modifying everything just the slightest bit to accommodate while still making it a trip to remember.

You sipped sweet red wine together after dinner, trading stories about holidays as kids, when you gasped loudly, jumping up from the couch. He looked at you in concern as you practically sprinted to the window.

“Baby, what-”

“Javy, it’s snowing!”

The wonder in your voice was palpable. He got up and joined you at the window, watching the snowflakes fall gently to the ground in the dark, reflecting off of the array of outdoor lights. It was a beautiful sight, truly.

“Looks like we’ll have a white Christmas after all,” he said, his voice low and husky as he wrapped his arms around you. You leaned into him, smiling contentedly. You just stood and watched for a few minutes before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Want to go outside?”

You turned to face him, the excitement in your eyes evident. “Yes!” you exclaimed, already grabbing your coat and shoes. Javy chuckled at your enthusiasm, but really, he was just as excited as you were.

The air was crisp and cold, but you hardly seemed to notice as you twirled around in the falling snow. He just watched you for a moment, content with the spectacle he was witnessing. You slipped just the slightest bit on your next spin, and Javy caught you, holding you steady as you started to giggle uncontrollably. He couldn’t help but smile at your joy, feeling his own heart warm at the sight.

“Careful,” he playfully admonished. You just sighed happily as you settled against him.

“Never thought I’d get a white Christmas in California,” you whispered.

Javy’s pulse picked up as he thought about one of the gifts he had for you, suddenly desperate to give it to you. He swallowed thickly as he kissed your cold cheek. “Let’s head back in.”

You showered together, the hot water helping you regain some of the warmth you had lost from your unexpected snow excursion. You poured glasses of wine as he set some cookies on a plate for you to share, and the two of you settled in front of the Christmas tree. You eyed the gifts eagerly; it was nearing midnight now, and neither of you wanted to wait until morning.

You took turns opening the handful of gifts you got each other, swapping stories and reasonings behind them as you did. Plenty of laughs and kisses were exchanged as you went, and before he knew it, you were both surrounded by wrapping and tissue paper.

Looking at you now, basked in the tree lights and the glow of the lit candles scattered throughout the room, the fireplace crackling in the corner, he knew there wouldn't be a better time than right now. He cleared his throat gently, drawing your attention from the custom puzzle he had made for you of one of your favorite pictures.

“I have one more gift for you,” he murmured, and his heart started racing wildly in his chest as he reached behind the tree, lifting the tree skirt to grab the small box he had hid underneath it. It was beautifully wrapped, adorned with a silky green ribbon and a small gold bell. Your eyes widened as you looked from the box to his eyes, and he could see the question written all over your face. His heart leaped in his chest as you took it from him, your fingers brushing his before smoothing over the elegant paper, different from what the rest of your gifts had been wrapped in.

“Javy,” you breathed. “Is this…?”

“Open it,” he urged, a small smile playing on his lips. You slowly undid the ribbon, setting it aside and then gently running your finger beneath the tape to get the paper off, showing a delicacy you hadn’t before.

You gasped when the velvet black box was revealed, and when you met his eyes again, there were tears lining yours.

“Go ahead, open it,” he encouraged, his eyes dancing with anticipation.

You bit your lip through the smile he could see appearing, staring at him for a long moment, before you finally looked back down. With a deep, shaky breath you snapped the box open. He held his breath as he waited for your reaction, only for his stomach to drop when, instead of the radiant smile and excitement he was so confident you would have, your eyebrows furrowed together, a frown contorting your features. You looked not only confused, but heartbroken.

“I don’t understand.”

“What?” he asked, heart racing for an entirely different reason now. “What do you mean?”

Without saying anything, you turned the open box to face him. Javy felt horror course through him when he looked down to see that the ring box, which was supposed to be housing a shiny, sparkling engagement ring that he just knew you would be in love with, was completely empty. And instead of the name of the jewelry store staring back at him on the silk lining of the inside lid, the LSU logo from the box that at one point held his class ring that was on his hand was staring back at him instead. It took his mind a moment to really register the implications of that, and the groan he let out was long and drawn out.

“Oh my God,” he said as he smacked his forehead, “I’m an idiot.”

You still looked confused, but maybe a little less heartbroken as you cleared your throat. “Huh?”

“Baby, I am so sorry,” he pleaded, and he scrambled to grab your hands, sliding himself closer to you on the floor. He knocked the offensive empty box to the ground.

“I kept your ring it in my sock drawer-”

“Real original.”

“Thank you, I know,” he responded without missing a beat, “But I also keep my class ring box in there, and I must have grabbed the wrong one when you were in the shower before we left yesterday. I had looked at the ring so many times that I swore the hinges on the damn box were gonna snap so I made myself keep it closed and oh my god-”

You cut him off with a laugh, shaking your head and wiping at the tears in your eyes. “Javy, it’s okay,” you said.

But it wasn’t, not to him at least. He had planned this whole getaway so meticulously and the proposal had been something he had been thinking about for so long. He had bought your ring months ago, and had been so excited to give it to you.

“No,” he shook his head, “it’s not okay. This was supposed to be perfect, and I ruined it. I’m so sorry,” he apologized again.

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you, and he couldn’t help but lean into your touch. “It’s not ruined,” you said firmly. “I mean, yeah, this wasn’t exactly how you planned it, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you or the fact that I want to be with you forever.”

“I just wanted it to be special,” he muttered, still feeling embarrassed. He imagined he would for a good long while.

You smiled at him, that sweet tug of your lips that has damn near brought him to his knees since the very beginning. You rubbed your thumb across his cheek, giggling softly. You leaned in to press a kiss to his lips.

“I don’t care about the ring, Javy. I care about you. And this is perfect.”

He looked at you, tears stinging his eyes. A grin slowly spread on his face as he processed your words. “Are you saying yes?” he asked, his voice tinged with excitement.

You grinned right back at him, shrugging playfully. “Are you asking?”

Javy couldn't contain the emotion that coursed through him. The empty ring box was forgotten as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. Laughter bubbled up between you. "Yes! Yes, I'm asking!"

Your eyes sparkled when you pulled away, and you looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. It took him a second through the excitement to realize why, and he felt his face heat with embarrassment again. "Oh! Right. Right. Baby, I love you. And I had a whole speech planned, but it doesn't feel like it matters anymore. All that matters is me and you, yeah?" You nodded, tears in your eyes, and Javy felt as calm as he had all night just from the look you were giving him. "Marry me?"

You kissed him again, your lips molding perfectly against his. He had to rank it as one of the best kisses the two of you had ever shared together. “Yes,” you breathed, your noses brushing together as you nodded fervently. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

You squealed at the sudden movement as he scooped you up into his arms as he stood. He spun you around once, twice, your shared laughter filling the small, warm space. Your arms wrapped tight around his neck as he held you, trusting him not to drop you. He knew the smile on his face must have been ridiculous - his cheeks were starting to ache by the constant pull.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. He kissed you again, and you returned it eagerly. You moaned into his mouth as he carried you the few steps to the bed, laying you down gently before climbing on top of you.

He made love to you slowly, his hands roaming every inch of your body, caressing and exploring with a tenderness that matched what he was feeling. He savored every breath and every touch. There was no rush as you moved together. The tree lights glowed and the fireplace crackled, and it was like just the two of you existed, tucked away from the rest of the world. You clutched at him as he expertly brought you to the edge.

You lay cuddled up with him afterward, your head on his chest as his stayed wrapped around you, holding you close.

The room was filled with a comforting silence, broken only by the sound of your steady breathing and the crackling of logs in the fireplace. Javy traced lazy patterns on the bare skin of your back, his touch gentle and loving. The Christmas tree glowed in the corner, snow was still slowly falling outside, and a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told him it was after midnight at that point. He pressed a kiss to your head, sighing in content.

"Merry Christmas, Sweetheart."

-----------

Main Masterlist

Notes: This was incredibly self indulgent. I actually love him so much, it's unhealthy. Hope you enjoyed this one!

Thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 for all their help as usual, and to Mak for the absolutely stunning banner.

#alli writes #winterromcomchallenge #javy machado x reader #javy machado #javy machado x you #javy machado imagine #javy coyote machado #javy machado fic #javy machado smut #javy machado fluff #javy machado appreciation #javy coyote machado x you #coyote x you #coyote x reader #javy coyote machado x reader #tgm fic #top gun fanfiction

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roostersgirlfriendlovesf1 · 6 months

Text

i'll be home for christmas

bradley bradshaw x reader

prompt: bradley has been on a mission the past couple of weeks and as christmas approaches y/n becomes more lonely. she decorates their apartment as she awaits his return...

warnings: none, just cute ;)

an: hi guys!! this is my first post hope you love it! i will be taking requests for rooster or hangman and if you're intrested in f1 lando norris and charles leclerc! i def need ideas so please comment!

A cold breeze makes its way into the apartment as y/n attempts to hang the last string of lights on the tree. The sound of waves crashing on the shore almost drowned out the sound of Nat King Cole’s A Classic Christmas playlist. Y/n peaked out of the window, the sun was quickly setting. Bradley was set to arrive home any day now. Christmas was a holiday that they had not yet spent together over the past two years; Bradley was either on a mission or stuck having a late night on base. She stepped down from the chair she was balancing on and poured herself a glass of wine. She had been slowly decorating more and more each night, hoping that she would be staying up late enough to greet Bradley when he came home. She never knew what his mood would be when he got home, but always tried to keep a smile. She had put on green, plaid pajama pants and a tighter black long sleeve. She heard the sound of giggles outside the balcony door. Y/n peeked out, seeing a family of three spending their Christmas Eve together. She grabbed a plate of cookies off of the counter, not wanting them to all go to waste as she could not eat them all. She slipped on a pair of uggs and walked downstairs. She waved politely. The family lived a couple apartments down. “Cookies?”

The mom bent down. “Go get a cookie.” She tickled her daughter before the little girl shyly approached y/n. She grabbed a sugar cookie with red, green, and white sprinkles.

“Good choice!” y/n smiled before looking back up at the two adults.

“Brad coming home soon?” The man asked.

“He said he would be home between December 20th and December 26th…” She sighed, “So hopefully in the next couple of days.”

“If you want to come over tomorrow we wouldn’t mind.” The woman smiled.

“It's alright.” y/n shook her head. “I just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas!” She bid them goodnight and let herself back into the lonely apartment. She shut the balcony door before taking a step back to appreciate the Christmas scene she had set for herself. A moment of appreciation quickly turned into a moment of loneliness. The room was dark except for the accent of faded-white Christmas lights and candles. She wanted her boyfriend with her. His perfect golden skin, infectious laugh, and comforting smell. She sat down at the piano he had and their first memories together flooded her mind. She had moved in with him a week after she convinced him to buy the piano. He knew he was in love as soon as she pointed out the piano. It had faded wood and the paint on the black keys had just about dissipated.

“This one is perfect.” She ran her fingers along the keys.

His heart dropped as he studied the piano. “This looks like the one my dad would play when we went out for food at this one diner…”

“Then you need it!” She smiled at him. “It's gotta be a sign.” All he could do was stare at it. She placed a hand on his shoulder, kissing his cheek. “I’m gonna go see how much I can negotiate the price.”

He watched her as she debated with the store owner. She waved Bradley over with an angsty look. “He agreed to lower it by 20%, think that's fine?” She crossed her arms.

“Yes.” He was determined to have the piano. “I’m going to be broke after this.”

“Christmas is coming up.” She declared. “So I’m obligated to put some money in for this.”

“No-”

“Yes.” She nodded. As she put their money together Bradley noticed her eyes latch onto a silver necklace with a red heart. He watched as she read the price, sighed, and then continued to count the money owed for the piano.

She was now slumped over it, attempting to find a tune. She set her wine glass on a side table and glared at the keys. They hadn’t been touched in weeks. The sound of laughter and singing hadn’t echoed off the walls in what felt like decades. She wished the piano could comfort her the way Bradley did. Tears filled her eyes, but had not yet fallen as she realized the Christmas songs playing on her speaker had stopped. She put on a new playlist before shuffling into she and Bradley’s bedroom searching for a sweater. She opened the closet door, grabbing a gray sweatshirt. She and Bradley’s separate sides of the closet had now just blended into one wardrobe. She pulled it over her head, prepared for another long night of finding a show to binge. Y/n grabbed a blanket and went to clean the Christmas plate she ate dinner on. Being alone made her envy the times she had to clean double the dishes. The sound of the sink running overpowered the sound of the front door unlatching. She set the plate down in the sink, sighing before blowing out a candle. Thump. A duffel bag landed on the floor and her attention was diverted. The tired eyes of a familiar pilot greeted her as she rushed herself into his arms. Her arms were wrapped around him tightly, one hand running through the hair on the back of his head. His arms caged around her waist as he kissed the side of her face, mustache tickling her. “Merry Christmas, baby.” He whispered in a tired, raspy voice.

“Merry Christmas,” she breathed, pulling away to look at him with glassy eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” He let out a breathy laugh, obviously exhausted. “I couldn’t get you anything really nice, but I picked something up on the way home…” He placed his forehead against hers.

She kissed him. “You didn’t need to get me anything.” He nodded, but retreated to his duffel bag, grabbing a green box from inside it.

He placed it in her hands before bringing them down to hold her waist. “Nothing was really open this late, but-”

“Shhhhh….” She hushed him. She opened the box to find a sticker and a silver necklace.

“The sticker has the exact plane I fly on it, so that you can stick it on your phone case and look at it when you miss me. It was dumb, but it was at the 24/7 gas station.” She stayed silent, taking the necklace out. “Now that…” He cupped his hand around hers, taking the necklace into his own hand. “I’ve had for a while.” He hooked it around her neck. It was a simple necklace, but had a tiny red heart that fell right between her collarbone.

“Bradley…” Her voice caught. “Thank you.” She kissed him again.

“God I’ve missed you.” He embraced her again.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #rooster top gun #rooster x you

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miloformula123fan · 9 months

Note

Hey, can I request something (don't really care what, I just want to read something about this 😭) about Y/N being Max (or Charles or both 👀) best friend, but everyone (from the grid, their team and the fans) think they're dating, but Y/N is actually either aroace or not into guys (maybe she even has a girlfriend). Eventually someone of them snaps and she brings her gf to a race or wears a shirt with a giant asexual pun on it. 🙈

I hope this is not too specific (or not specific enough idk 😭) and I would love if you could do something like that.

okay I'll be honest I loved this, but my layout was not going well so this turned into a blurb

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

Okay I apologise, I really wanted to get this out, so I did turn this into a blurb

And I loved how detailed this request was - i really don’t mind how detailed you get as long as I can write something

Y/N grew up with Max and Charles

So even before they made it to f1, the fangirls were shipping it

And it wasn’t that big of a deal

Until it was

Aka all the media questions were about her relationship

And her attempted soft launch on her insta

It got a bit annoying when Christian joked about her letting Max win the championship

And Callum and the mechanics were constantly making jokes and laughing at the 2 of them

And when she spent 10 of a 15 minute press conference answering questions about Max and Charles

Yeah she’d had enough

So she brought her girlfriend to a race.

(probably Maya Hawke, cause let’s be honest every lesbian and bi girl has a crush on her)

So it’s just the 2 ultimate women together

The world goes crazy

Christian just turns round and goes ‘why didn’t you tell me?’

It gets worse when Y/N rocks up to the press conference, not in her red bull shirt but this shirt

Twitter goes wild

Any of coure Y/N wins the race for Maya

(i can’t even drive and I would win the race for Maya)

#f1 blurbs #miloformula123fan #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x you #charles leclerc x you #maya hawke x reader #maya hawke x you #maya hawke

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multifandomfanficss · 1 year

Text

Home Is Wherever You Are P1

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

With a very heavy emphasis on platonic!Christopher Smith/Peacemaker

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: You jump in front of an explosive device to protect Adrian from the blast and end up getting separated from him with no way back.

Warnings: mentions of trafficking, mentions of child abuse, panic, meltdown, crying, divorce, mentions of August Smith, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language

A/N: In July I started cooking up a new idea with the help of my friend @countlambula and what was originally meant to be a 2 parter moved to a 4 parter and somehow I ended with 7 parts?! Not quite sure how that happened! I’m very excited to share what I spent a huge part of my summer working on. I hope you guys enjoy!! Also despite the main ship being Adrian x Reader there is A LOT of platonic!Chris content in this fic so I really do hope Chris fans can read and enjoy this! I loved getting into the thick of Chris’ backstory for this! All of the 11th Street Kids have their own importance in this series, but it is very Adrian and Chris centric. Please enjoy!!

“I love you.” You sighed in relaxation, smiling as you were gently woken up by your boyfriend.

“Well somebody has to.” Adrian joked.

“Shut up!” You lightly hit him on the chest, laughing.

“Never.” He smiles, kissing you. You could look at his beautiful, infectious smile for hours. Your phones both buzz at the same time, an indication that it’s probably a text in the 11th Street Kids chat because you both got it.

“Didn’t we just get home from a mission?” You groan.

“There’s no time to rest for super badass super cool heroes, babe.” Adrian kisses you on the cheek quickly before getting out of bed.

“Okay, but if we have to pair up there is no way in hell I’m going with Chris again. Last time he told me I looked like his sexy babysitter growing up. Like who the fuck says that? Our lives aren’t some shitty porno and it’s almost like he doesn’t even give a fuck that we’re dating.” You sigh.

“Yeah he constantly tells me that you’re way out of my league. I think his exact words were I’m in little league and you’re on major leagues, but I don’t know. I was never on the bowling team.”

“I think he meant baseball, honey.” You smile at him, finding his little knowledge of sports cute.

“That might actually make more sense with his home run and base metaphors! It took me way too long to figure out what that shit meant. Why can’t people just say what they mean?” He questions.

“Because they’re trying too hard to sound smart. I think sometimes not saying things they actually mean, but understanding that’s not exactly what they meant makes them feel smarter. They don’t know lots of facts like you do and they definitely can’t come up with intricate strategies either.” You smile at him, taking his hand in yours. You watch his smile grow, but there’s something more behind his eyes. He seems moved.

“How do you always do that?” He asks.

“What?”

“How do you always make me feel so smart and validated?” He clarifies.

“Because you are smart. You’re a hell of a lot smarter than Chris and if anyone gave you a second and actually listened to you, they’d realize that. You helped save the world last year. There’s no way they could have done that without you. If it weren’t for you, Chris’ dad probably would have killed him that day, honestly.” As you speak Adrian starts to realize.

“I tried to tell Peacemaker about the gaps in the armor, but he didn’t listen.” He reminds you.

“Well that’s because he’s too deep in his own bullshit to see past it. He should have listened to you, but this isn’t just about him being stubborn. I don’t think most people would have noticed such a small detail like that. Give yourself some credit.” You kiss him again.

“You know you’re like everything to me right? I’ve never felt this way about a person before. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had feelings for other people, but like…it’s like I just never fit in as a kid. I just kinda felt like an alien who crash landed here as a baby and I know I’m not, but I just didn’t feel human. You make me feel human.” He’s giving you that look he gives people when he’s worried he’s said something a little too out of pocket or strange.

“I get what you mean. It’s almost like we were made for each other. We’re each other’s rocks…wait does that sound too cheesy?” You look at him, blushing.

“No! I love rocks! I had a rock collection when I was a little kid!” You giggle at how cute he is.

“Me too! My mom would find rocks in the machine every time she did laundry because I would stuff my pockets!” You tell him and you both laugh. Then your phones go off again, interrupting your good morning. You sigh. “Harcourt’s gonna kill us if we’re late.” You kiss him one more time before getting out of bed and heading to the shower.

“Let her kill us.” He laughs, smirking, following you to the shower.

Several hours later you found yourself sneaking through a warehouse. You didn’t quite know what to expect, you just knew a lot of people had gone missing at the hands of this guy. You figured maybe they were being killed off or trafficked. If you knew what you know now maybe you would have done things differently. Maybe you wouldn’t have even done them at all. You wished you were at home with Adrian. Adrian. You may never see him again…

You were running after the guy when he pulled a grenade on you. Adrian had survived a grenade once, but you didn’t think he would survive again. You on the other hand were testing out new armor from ARGUS that could probably withstand the blast, so you did what anyone would do for the person they love the most. You pushed him out of the way. Your ears were ringing and everything was so bright. You think you hear Adrian and maybe some of your other teammates screaming your name, but you’re not sure. Suddenly you’re on the ground, but the ground is different… you try to open your eyes, but they’re still strained from the bright light and now you feel lightheaded and nauseous. You black out.

You wake up to arms shaking you.

“Adrian?” You question in a whiney tone. You open your eyes to find a construction worker looking over you.

“I don’t know who that is. What even happened to you?“ You blinked a couple times, moving around slowly, getting your bearings. “You’re in my construction site for the new factory warehouse that’s going up. What happened? Did you slip down the dirt mound and hit your head?”

“I- I must have…” Your voice trails off as you try to make sense of everything.

“This is going to be so much paperwork.” The worker sighs.

“I’m sorry… what town am I in?” You ask.

“Evergreen, Washington.”

“I don’t remember there being any big construction sites like this recently.” You try to think of any signs indicating any recent work sites.

“We just broke ground yesterday. I’m surprised you didn’t see it on the news.” The worker helps you up.

“I don’t tend to watch the news. My boyfriend thinks it’s depressing. I usually get my news elsewhere, but I’ve been a little busy to read up on it in the past few days.” You smile at the worker, thinking of Adrian.

“Like the newspaper?” He asks.

“No, online.”

“On what? You wait in line?”

“No… like the internet…” You give him a confused smile.

“Oh, I don’t mess with that new stuff. I don’t want robots in my house, stealing my information. You young people always just want things faster, faster, faster.” You tried to refrain from giving the man an odd look. He’s probably from one of the more rural areas. You knew how radically conservative Evergreen could be at first hand, having met Chris’ dad and been told stories of how he grew up. You were just happy Chris’ dad was dead. As awful as that sounds you’d hate to run into him.

“Yeah…” You give a nervous laugh. “Well thank you, but I should probably head out before your supervisor notices.” You quickly excuse yourself, walking down the street. You pulled out your phone, but had no service, so you put it away. That’s odd. Usually there’s dead zones in town, but you didn’t think it was this bad. As you walk down the street you see a beautiful vintage car parked by the side of the road. It’s in pretty good condition.

“I love your vintage car! What year is it?” You ask the woman getting out of it.

“What this clunker? I got it from my parents. It’s only an 81, but I guess it’s getting old now. It’s got tons of miles on it. They just got a new car, so they gave me their old one.” She says, locking her door.

“They didn’t wanna keep it?” You ask in shock.

“Why would they? It’s old.” You look at her in confusion before she excuses herself to walk into the grocery store. Guess some people just don’t know the value of collectibles.

Today has been fucking weird. How did you even end up in that construction site anyway? You must have gone for a walk this morning and fell in, but it’s a little alarming you don’t remember. You could walk home, but it’s just so far. You walk into a nearby corner store hopping they have wifi to connect to. You couldn’t call Adrian without service, but maybe if you could get wifi you could get him a message to come pick you up or you could order an Uber.

You walked into the building and made your way up to the counter. “Hi, do you have wifi here?” You ask.

“No, sorry we don’t sell that.” The teenage cashier dismisses you and goes back to the pad of paper they’re doodling on.

“Okay… do you know anywhere near here that has wifi?” You ask.

“I don’t even know what wifi is. I could call the hardware store and see if they have some.” They look at you like you’re the stupid one.

“What do you mean call the hardware store?”

“We have a phone behind the counter.”

“How do you not know what wifi is? Wireless internet?” You stare at them, losing your mind a bit.

“You think we have a computer here? This is Evergreen. Half the town is poor as shit. You’re not gonna find a computer in a gas station. Go to the library. They just got another one.” The teenager rolls their eyes at you.

“Can I at least use your phone?” You ask, trying to keep your patients with the idiot in front of you. How do they not know what wifi is?

“You have to use the pay phone next door. My boss said this is a business only phone.”

“The pay phone… What is this? 1985? I didn’t even know pay phones still existed.”

“Well some of us again can’t afford a cellphone. Not to mention, my mom says they fuck with your brain.” They roll their eyes again.

“It’s the 21st century who cares what their mother says? Practically everyone has a phone?” You give them a strange look.

“I don’t know what you smoked before you walked in here, but you’re still half a decade away from the 21st century.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You look at them dumbfounded before it all starts to register. The comments about the internet being new, no wifi, no cellphones, the vintage car. You feel your ears start to ring as your eyes begin to tear up. You feel like you’re underwater. You take off, booking it down several blocks. You’re out of breath and you have a cramp, but you don’t care. You keep running. You’re sweating, but you keep running. You can taste metal in your mouth, but you keep running. You keep going. You have to. Finally you reach it. You stand in front of the building, catching your breath as you watch people walk in and out of Henelotter Video. Your heart is in your throat.

“No…” You look at it and begin to cry in shock at what was once your headquarters… or you guess what will one day be… That day hasn’t come yet. You walk over to a newspaper box and grab a free local paper. You see the date says August 31st, 1994. Fuck. You drop the paper, rushing to the back of the building. You collapse on the ground against the back wall of a building that should feel more familiar to you than it is. You remember now. The grenade must have been some sort of weaponized time travel. The people weren’t being killed or trafficked. They were being displaced in time. You sob quietly, not trying to cause a scene. This wasn’t supposed to be this way.

You lean against the building staring out at the parking lot, the parking lot where you shared your first kiss with Adrian. You had just gotten back from a mission that he was a little too reckless on and you needed to tell him how you felt in case you never got the chance again. You look over at the dumpster, clean of the graffiti it will one day be littered with. That was the dumpster he was hiding behind when you first met him as Vigilante.

Adrian… You may never get to see your perfect boyfriend again. He was by no means actually perfect, but he was perfect to you. He was your personal version of perfect and you knew you’d never find anyone else like him again. Now you may never see him again…

You cry until it starts to grow dark. You wonder about what you’ll do. Anything you do could change the future. What if changing the future makes it so you never meet Adrian or what if you change something and it branches off into a different future and you get stuck away from him in a parallel universe? You’re not a time travel scientist. Anything could fucking happen! The only thing you do know is that you’re alone and it’s getting dark. If you’re getting your timeline right, Chris’ dad would be coming out soon with his awful fucking army and you knew if they tried to fight you, you wouldn’t be able to take all of them on your own. They rule the streets in these years. You pull out your wallet from your pocket to find you have enough money to at least go get dinner. Your debit card won’t work, but you have just enough cash. You head to Fennel Fields because you knew it would probably be the only consistent thing left in town. You just wanted something familiar.

As you’re seated, an overwhelmed waitress rushes past you saying “I’ll be right with you!”

“Take your time. I practically have all the time in the world… like 30 years of time…” You whisper the last part under your breath. The overworked waitress runs back to you and apologizes.

“Hi, my name is Diane. Can I get you something to drink?” You want to order a soda, but decide against it to save money.

“Uh… I guess water will have to be fine.”

“You don’t look so sure. It’s free refills.” She smiles at you.

“I- I’m okay…” You stutter, tired. You could really use the caffeine, but shouldn’t.

“Well if you could have any pop in the machine which one would you pick?” She asks.

“I’m really fine with water…” You laugh nervously.

“Just humor me.” She smiles at you.

“Uh…maybe a Diet Coke…” You smile shyly at her. She leaves and comes back with a Diet Coke.

“On the house.” She smiles at you again. Something about her is so comforting.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly-“

“Take it. You look like you’ve had a long day. I know I have.” She smiles at you.

“You’re very kind.” You smile back, taking a sip, letting the cool bubbly liquid trickle down your throat, which is sore from crying.

“Now what are we doing for food?” She asks.

“Uh…I’m gonna be really honest with you. I know most restaurants won’t let you order a kids meal if you’re over 12, but I’m really tight on cash, so I was hoping to maybe get the chicken tenders and fries?” You try your luck and she gives you another comforting smile.

“Great choice. I’ll go have the kitchen whip it up.” She walks away without any other questions.

You stay and eat at the restaurant for a while. Even long after you’re done, you stay and enjoy more free refills just so you’re not out on the streets.

“You know we’re technically closed right?” Your waitress, Diane asks.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I’ll leave…” You start to collect your things as she begins to sit at your booth with a bin of silverware and some napkins.

“No, please stay. Mind if I join you?” She asks.

“Um…no.” You smile. “I don’t mind at all.” Truth be told you loved Diane. She had such a comfortable, familiar air around her. Even in all of this chaos, she felt like someone you could trust. She starts rolling silverware as you sip on your drink.

“So what’s your story? Are you running or were you kicked out?” She asks.

“What?” You look at her confused.

“You just look scared and tired and like you’re not quite sure what to do. It’s none of my business, but you just look like you need someone on your side is all.” She smiles again, hoping she didn’t overstep.

“Why were you so kind to me? I walked into this restaurant with thirteen dollars to my name and you didn’t even roll an eye at me.” You question her.

“Just doing what I think is right, I suppose. It’s been hard for me too lately. My husband just left, so I picked up this second job to make sure my kids will be alright.” You shoot her a sympathetic look.

“Um…kicked out…I guess….” You open up. Being exiled from your time period is sort of like being kicked out.

“Do you have anywhere to go?” She asks. You shake your head silently. She finishes rolling the last bit of silverware before standing up and putting the bin behind the counter nearby.

“Let’s go. I’m taking you home with me.” She smiles.

“Oh, no! I- I couldn’t possibly-“

“Yes, you can and you will. I’m a mother. I’m not going to let a young adult with nowhere to go and no money sleep on the streets.” She cuts you off. She couldn’t be too much older than you, but clearly motherhood had aged her.

“You don’t even know my name!” You protest.

“What’s your name?” She asks.

“Rey” You panicked. It was the first name to come to your head. You and Adrian had watched Star Wars yesterday.

“Well then, Rey, let’s go home.” She insists.

“I can’t just stay in your house. That’d be rude.” You continue to debate.

“Then work for me.” She says.

“What?” You question her.

“I’ve been wanting to hire a nanny, but haven’t been able to afford one. If you come stay at my place, while you’re there you could watch the boys when I’m at work and in return you would have a roof over your head and food to eat. It sounds like a win-win situation.” She proposes. It isn’t a bad idea. You worry doing just about anything else would have an insane impact on the timeline. How much could one family affect everything?

“Are you sure about this?” You ask.

“More than sure. There’s something about you. You just seem…right.” She tells you. You smile.

“Okay…let’s go home then I guess…” you say as you follow her out of the restaurant. On the drive home she tells you about her kids.

“I have two kids…officially…” She starts.

“What do you mean officially?” You ask as you watch the passing streetlights illuminate her face.

“Well my son’s friend is always over, so more often than not it’ll probably be three boys. I let him sleepover a lot even though he’s a handful because every time he sleeps at home he comes back the next day with bruises. I can’t do anything about it because…well…that’s just how the town is…I think if I said anything things would just get worse, so I keep my mouth shut and put out an extra table setting for supper.” Her hands tighten on the steering wheel as she speaks.

“That’s so awful. I’ll never be able to understand parents who do that to their kids.” You sigh.

“Me either. If anyone laid a finger on either of my boys I’d kill them.” Most moms would be exaggerating, but you saw fire behind her eyes. You knew she loved her kids and she wasn’t fucking around. When you get home and walk inside you see a toddler with tight brown curls running around the living room in nothing, but a diaper.

“Dorian?!” Diane yells through the house. She catches the giggling toddler who has food on his face.

“Dorian Gut Chase! I told you your brother had to be in bed by 8!” Diane starts to scold her son who could be heard from the other room playing video games. Oh fuck.

“I’m sorry. Can you please hold Adrian. I don’t want him getting into anything else before bed and it seems like Dorian and Chris are upstairs killing aliens on the Super Nintendo instead of watching him, which is why I need a nanny in the first place.” She shoves Adrian in your hands. Holy fuck.

“Hi.” You hold him stiffly in your hands.

“I’m Adrian! I’m three!” He tells you just about the only thing every toddler is trained to say upon meeting a new person, shoving 3 fingers in your face.

“I know.” You say back. That’s probably not what you’re supposed to tell a three year old when they introduce themselves, but it’s not like he’ll remember anyway. You’re too in shock to care.

“What’s- what’s- what is your name?” He asks, stuttering out the words, obviously new to keeping up conversations.

“Rey, could you bring Adrian upstairs to help get him ready for bed please?” Diane calls and you remember you told her your name was Rey. Fuck if only baby Adrian could catch the joke in all of this. This is so weird on so many levels.

“I’m Rey, I guess, and we’re going upstairs now.” You tell him.

“Is it bedtime?” He asks.

“Um yeah. You’re up a little late, bud.”

“It’s not late!” He protests in his squeaky voice.

“What makes you think it’s not late?” You ask, as you walk up the stairs.

“I’m not tired!” He says.

“What time do you think it is?” You ask.

“Um 2- 2- 27” He giggles.

“That’s not a time!” You laugh at him, pretending to almost drop him. He breaks out into a fit of giggles. You had almost forgotten who you were holding.

“You’re really good with him. It’s almost like you’re a natural. He’s usually not this happy with strangers. He loves you!” She says, pleasantly surprised. If only somebody else could see the irony in the situation. Freud would love to be a fly on the way during all of this.

“Oh…uh…thanks.” You smile, as Adrian situates himself in your arms, hugging you closely. You would do anything to have Adrian back. Well this is sort of Adrian, but… you wish you had the older version. You wanted your Adrian back.

“I’ll take him from here.” Diane offers. “Check out the guest room. It’s the one at the end of the hall.” She says, taking Adrian from you.

“Thank you. You’ve been really kind.” You smile at her.

“It’s no trouble. You’re doing me a favor.”

You bid your goodnights and head to the guest room. You sit on the bed and think for a moment. This is so fucked up on so many levels. Forget about how you could fuck up the timeline… How are you gonna fuck up your boyfriend?! Not to mention, what kind of fucking ethics are involved in nannying your future boyfriend? He’s fucking three! He’s impressionable! On one hand this is weird, but on the other hand it might be your smartest move. Free room, free food, and you know how Adrian, Gut, and Chris’ lives are supposed to play out, so maybe you can stick to the script of your own timeline a little easier. This might be the easiest way to change as little as possible. You sigh, flopping onto the bed. You pull out your phone. The battery is only half charged and you have no way of charging it, but you don’t care. You need him. You pull up a picture of him that you took this morning in the van on your way to the warehouse, as tears come to your eyes. You open your voicemails and play one he left for you the other day.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I’m just calling because I know you had a bad day today and I was thinking maybe I could bring takeout home from the restaurant and we could just have a movie night? I just wanted to know if you were feeling chicken parm or meatballs or if you wanted to just scratch dinners and have me bring home a pizza. Just call me back when you get this. I’m really proud of you- uh…not that I’m not always proud of you. I’m like totally proud of you all the time and I’m rambling again and this voicemail is about to be like 10 years long, so uh bye I love you.” As soon as the voicemail ended you played it again, letting your tears fall freely. After you’re sure everyone is asleep you sneak into toddler Adrian’s room to check on him. He’s fast asleep in his bed. You let your silent tears continue to fall. He starts to move in his sleep. He seems distraught like he could be having a nightmare.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna take really good care of you, just like how you always take really good care of me.” You put on a teary eyed smile, giving him a kiss on the top of his head and adjusting his fallen blanket to cover him better. He seems to look more comfortable now. He stays fast asleep as you sneak back to the guest room for the night.

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marvelousbuckley · 1 month

Text

Pardon my french!

BuckTommy Positivity Week 2024 - day one

I know i'm late to the party but @searching-for-the-moon gave me a great idea so here we are. You can learn more about this challenge through @bucktommypositivityweek's blog!

Prompt: what they love most about each other

You can read it on AO3 or down below. Every fic will be posted on AO3 as chapters of the same fic!

-----

“Okay, I’m impressed now. Is there anything you can’t do?”

Tommy looks at Evan who is wearing the prettiest smile he’s ever seen, a happy grin of his own gently warming up his face as they leave the gallery where they spent two hours learning pottery. In the bag Evan is carrying lays a strange attempt of a mug, base not quite flat and edges all wrong and messy. The mug is yellow, painted with care and patience. Which weren’t enough to ensure a great result. Against the mug, two bowls are wrapped in newspaper sheets. They are bright blue with white flowers, both perfect shapes, both delicately painted. Both the work of a Tommy who cannot stop smiling while his boyfriend continues to compliment him. It is endearing, the way Evan talks and talks and talk, always eager to let Tommy knows how much he’s impressed by anything new he learns about him.

“I swear Evan, it was the first time I did pottery.”

“Not the first time you painted though, so it’s almost like you cheated.” The blond can’t stop his smile from widening again, and his free hand quickly finds itself in Tommy’s one. They walk together like that for a while, heading to Evan’s loft just four blocks away from the gallery where the class was happening.

“It is so infuriating, you are always good at everything you try, how is that possible?” He continues, not paying attention to the world around him, and Tommy has to pull him fast by the hand before Evan bumps into a trash can. The movement coax Evan in Tommy’s direction, and soon enough the two men are against each other, chests touching and the older man’s arms around Evan’s waist, a gesture his body cannot stop doing when his boyfriend is close enough. It does nothing but push another bright smile on Evan’s face and Tommy must kiss him about it.

He knows his boyfriend clumsiness and unawareness of what surrounds him should bug him, but he can’t stop thinking it makes the other man even more adorable, if it is humanly possible. Evan is living in a world of his own, and for six months now he’s been okay with letting Tommy be a part of it.

Tommy loves him for that. He loves him for pretty much everything Evan does or says.

“I’m not good at everything!” He interjects, a laugh on his voice when they start walking again and Evan gives him a deadpan look, almost bumping into another human being.

“Shut up, I’m sure you can do crazy things. Like, I don’t know, French braid! Or macarons, which is so fucking hard to do right, by the way. Hell, I am sure you know how to speak French while we’re at it!"

Evan had started hyperfixating on everything French related since the opening of the Paris Olympics. “They had a dancing croissant; can you believe it? And the torchbearer? I’ve never seen somebody this hot, except you of course. If I hadn’t discovered my bisexuality with you, this person would have done the trick just fine.”

He then proceeded to explain to Tommy what the French torchbearer had been about, some reference to video games as well as opera. “Did you know Assassin’s Creed was French? And so are the Minions! And The Daft Punk! Even the helicopter was invented by the French!”

So, Evan talking about macarons and French braid isn’t that weird.

The thing is, Tommy’s answer is a surprise so unexpected that Evan’s jaw drop when his boyfriend respond. “Oh no, you don’t want me near long haired heads, and I’m not really good at macarons, I’m more of a waffle guy anyway. French though-”

Evan stops him before he can say anything else.

“Thomas Kinard, do not tell me you know how to speak French.”

Tommy’s amused face must be a good enough answer because Evan’s stops right here, in the middle of the sidewalk, starstruck. “Do you speak French?”

« Un petit peu, je ne me suis pas entrainé depuis longtemps. »

Evan does not know what it means, he doesn’t even know if Tommy said it right or if he just invented words to play with him. But it doesn't matter anyway, he’s too flabbergasted to care.

“What. The. Fuck.” He manages to say after way to long of a pause, proof that his brain just stopped working. It makes Tommy giggle, and the pilot brings his boyfriend hand to his lips and places a kiss on each one of his fingers.

“Tout va bien ?” He then asks, knowing full well what the words cause in Evan’s head.

Chaos, pure unexpected, hot as fuck chaos.

“What. Why. How. What. Fuck, how?” The younger man is clearly losing it and Tommy knows there is only one way to soothe his lover’s brain. So he takes a step forward, Evan’s free hand still in his, his other hand cupping Evan’s face, and proceed to kiss his boyfriend slowly, almost lazy, a hint of defiance in every one of his movements. Usually Evan melts on the touch, but this time he finds the strength to back-up, well, not before he moans in Tommy’s lips and kiss him back anyway.

“I’ll still need answers Kinard.”

“Let’s go home first, and then maybe I’ll give you some.” Tommy replies, a knowing smile on his face, pupils darkening with the promise of giving.

-----

“So, how?”

They both lay in Evan’s bed, sweaty and sore and happy. The bag with their dishes inside has been abandoned on the diner table, and their clothes have been thrown in every part of the loft without any care.

Tommy thinks about his answer for a moment, before he turns his head toward Evan, looking at him with a mix of tenderness and guilt. “I… I dated a guy. It was a long time ago, but the words stayed.” It is all he his able to say before he looks away, worried that Evan might get jealous, or sad, or something. Instead, Evan puts his hand on Tommy’s chest, playing with the hairy skin, and looks at him with fondness.

“You know, you don’t have to be ashamed of your past Tommy. I have exes too.” He says, trying to comfort the older man, a bright smile even in his voice. His tone is reassuring, and Tommy finally looks back at him with a sheepish glance.

“I know, it’s just… It has always been a thing with my other exes, you know? French is romantic, French is the language of love and, well, a lot of the men I dated weren’t happy that I had learned it for someone else you know?”

Evan nods, still admiring his boyfriend, caressing his perfect body.

“Is it why you hadn’t told me about it yet?” Tommy hums and Evan drops a kiss on his cheek, a touch so intimate the pilot still can’t quite believe he deserves it. “Well, I’m not jealous, and I’m not angry. I love that you give one hundred percent when you love someone, and that you are capable of learning a whole language just for them.” He smiles again, shifting his body so he’s almost completely on top of Tommy. “And it would be really stupid of me to be mad because you can speak French to me. It’s so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I love it! I love you Tommy, and every moment that made you you. The good and the bad.” Tommy smiles disappear when Evan come and kiss him, a deep, heated kiss. In his lips Tommy swears he can taste love. “But what I love most is that I’m getting used to all those little things I learn about you. I want to be used to everything about you for ever.”

“Sounds good to me.”

-----

translation:

- A little bit, i've not trained for a long time.

- Is everything okay?

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newstedz · 2 months

Text

snowfall ☆ kirk hammett

okay so i'm relatively new to this but i just was so inspired by @mustainegf 's prompt that I just kept writing and writing and you get the idea. basic gist is that kirk calls you over to watch an old movie with him, its all fluff (timeframe is around 1987, post damage inc. tour.) also sorry for the incredibly generic title I literally cannot think of anything else

exhausted was an understatement.

you'd finally gotten a day off, and god was it needed. you barely had any energy to get out of bed to grab a snack, much less go outside. besides, it was freezing, and as much as you loved the idea of snow, it loses its charm when you're stuck waiting at the bus stop in the middle of a blizzard. the day is yours, and ideally it would have been spent alone, tucked into bed. but then, you got a call. your stomach instantly dropped. you anticipated it'd be your boss, fabricating some asinine reason for you to appear at work today, even though nobody in their right mind would be out in the cold just to go to some shitty retail store. you pick up the phone with a groan. however, you're met with another familiar voice. one you weren't expecting, and suddenly, that dread in the pit of your stomach is replaced with butterflies.

"hey!" kirk beams from the other end of the phone. "sorry- did I wake you up?"

"no." you reply. granted, you weren't fully awake, but you didn't have the heart to make him think he may have been burdening you.

"oh.. okay!" he says, not seeming to need much convincing. "anyways, i just got this tape, you've gotta see this. it's some horror movie from like, the 50's or something. I got the tape from this guy, he- I mean, that's not really important, I guess." he says, his enthusiasm dwindling as his voice grows more shy. "but I was wondering, I mean, i'd really like for you to come over and watch it with me. if you want." he offers sheepishly.

you can't help but smile. if it were anyone else, you'd consider making up some elaborate excuse about how you caught a stomach bug or fell ill after standing in the cold for too long. but you've known Kirk since you were kids, and you can't remember the last time you guys got to really hang out. between you working and his touring schedule, things just never seemed to work. it was something special to him, too. you knew how involved he was in tape trading, horror, and all that stuff you couldn't quite wrap your head around. but for him, you'd do it in a heartbeat. you gaze out the window. it's still snowing, but it had slowed to flurries. a thin layer of snow coats the grass and branches of the trees. you can't pass this up.

"sure."

"really? nice! so um. I'll see you." he exclaims, abruptly ending the call before you could even ask when he wanted you to be there. you sigh, getting up and heading for the shower. one long bus ride later, you arrive at his door. as soon as you knock he rushes to the door, trying (and failing) to hide his excitement. "hey!" he grins, showing off his adorable, crooked smile. he steps aside allowing you to enter. "sorry its a mess in here. i just got back.." he murmurs. you cant help but laugh. "its whatever, man. i've seen worse from you." you reply, earning a chuckle from him. as soon as you two get settled, the snow gets heavy. very heavy. seems like you made it just in time. kirk seems to notice too. "looks like you're stuck with me."

the next hour is spent watching the movie, though it seems like it was only used as a catalyst for the two of you to play catch-up and for him to infodump trivia about the film. though you can't focus on the movie, at least not now. you're too focused on the way the light shines off his face and curls. the way he incessantly giggles when recalling a crazy road story. the snow is piling up outside, and it's only now that you realize he was trying to talk to you.

"hey, did you hear me?" he asks, tilting his head. he figured he was talking your ear off, though you really could listen to him all day.

"huh? i- no, you're good. i'm just.. cold." you attempt to wave it off unconvincingly, only leaving you to be met with more of his concerns. "are you okay? you were kinda just staring. are you bored? we can do something else, if you want." he murmurs as he gazes briefly at you, only to shift his focus to the TV screen. it could be the lighting, but you could've sworn you saw the lightest tinge of color come to his cheeks.

"what about you?" you ask. the whole time you've been here, you've gotten the basic stuff, yeah. but it wasn't as personal as it used to be between the two of you. you used to stay up for hours talking about your worries, your goals. you were the first one he told about anything, and vice versa. but now it seemed like he was nervous just from being the same room with you.

"what about me? i'm fine." he shrugs, now trying to shift the attention back to the movie.

"then why wont you look at me?" the question sorta just slips out. you didn't mean to pry, today was supposed to be lighthearted, but kirk's reaction seems to confirm your suspicions of there being something more, as he begins to stumble over his words. you place your hand gently over his. "you know you can talk to me, right?" as your eyes meet, his face goes red. "it's stupid." kirk murmurs again, though he knows he can't hide this from you anymore. "i feel like.. i'm running out of time. I mean- you're not always gonna be waiting around for me, and it's like whenever i'm gone, i.." he trails off, shifting his gaze away from you yet again. he takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I like you. like really like you, and I don't wanna drift off from you or mess anything up-" kirk rambles on, but you've heard enough. you laugh, suddenly scooting closer to him. all you give is an affectionate "shut up" before your lips meet. you move away to see his shocked expression, but he quickly swaps it for a huge, dorky grin as he pulls you in for another.

a few more shared kisses later, kirk pulls away, staring back at the window. he turns back to you. "y'know.. it's pretty nasty out there. maybe you should stay the night." he grins, not subtle in the slightest. you can't help but laugh and nod. suddenly, the room feels so much warmer.

#mustainegfcontest1 #kirk hammett #kirk hammett x reader #metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica x reader #sorry this is so long

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ragzonacamrencruise · 3 months

Note

Could you do Azutara and the soulmate au for the send a ship prompt?

soulmates au is #1

hehehehe okay let's do this!

this is an universe where the first words spoken to you by your soulmate gets tattooed anywhere on your body.

...

Azula never really believed in this soulmate stuff everyone was always talking about. Maybe it was because her mom realised her dad wasn't her supposed soulmate and left with another man who she thinks is. Well, if you ask Azula, she'd fume that her mom should've figured it out before she had two kids. No, really, what kinda universe would like for a 6 year old and an 8 year old to be motherless?

So, it comes as a surprise to Azula when she turns her head to the seats next to her. She's always been a cricket geek. Don't ask her why, she doesn't know. It can be a nail-biting, edge-of-the-seat thriller sometimes, and she likes it for the excitement, maybe. She'd always come to this stadium whenever the Fire Ferrets are playing. And she'd always book this row of seats to watch from. It had better vantage over the whole ground and she liked the distance too.

The stairs beside her seat meant, she could up and leave whenever she wanted, if the match was getting quite boring or if she realises her team is losing. But today . . . today is different.

Today she looks to her left and across the stairway, and sure enough, there's this moron of a fan who's wearing blue from top to foot and is screaming his lungs out at the ground whenever his team, the 'Pole Waves' is losing or winning. The weird thing that stands out is his quirky pony-tail.

But that's not what gets Azula's attention. This screaming, pony-tail guy leans forward and backward now and then and that reveals glimpses of the most gorgeous girl Azula's ever laid eyes upon. Sure she could use a little make-up to boost her prominent features, but from this distance, Azula's pretty sure that up close, the girl would sure be dazzling.

From the glimpses she's been getting, Azula bets that the girl is embarrassed by the screaming, pony-tail guy. Surely, they've come together. A petty resentment bubbles up inside Azula's chest. Not because she's jealous. But because she doesn't believe in soulmates and she has no idea what the universe has in store for her, if it decides to act up. She doesn't wanna get her hopes up with that pretty girl, who she's only gonna see this one time and probably never gonna see again.

She averts her eyes from seat across the stairway. And good thing she did too. Because the Pole Waves just hit a 6 and the ball is coming straight to Azula's face.

Azula, being Azula, extends her arm out in a cat like reflex, catching the ball in her hand, efforlessly.

The whole stadium erupts in cheer for the Pole Waves, and people around Azula erupt in cheer for her, amazed at the way she caught the ball. She looks at the ball in her hand. It feels gross and wet. Her face takes up a disgusted look before she throws the ball towards the ground, in order to resume the play.

And the next thing she knows, she's flinching from a sudden shrill sound in her left ear.

"OH MY GOD! THAT WAS AWESOME!! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?! I KNOW WE SUPPORT OUR OPPONENTS BUT THAT WAS PRETTY COOL!!!!! I'M SOKKA BY THE WAY!!!!! WHAT'S YOUR NAME?!?!?!"

Okay, so, Azula's pretty sure that she just went deaf.

She looks to her side and her eyes instantly find the pony-tail guy with an excited look on his face, looking expectantly at her. The guy spent too long yelling at the ground that he almost forgot what it is like to talk normally, Azula assumes.

Her face is still warped, trying to recover from her ringing ear, when the girl she spent most of the tournament stealing glances at, comes up behind the pony-tail guy (did he say Sokka was him name?! No, she's pretty sure it's Succa-), and the girl grabs his arm and pulls him away, muttering something in his ear, that Azula guesses is supposed to ask him to behave himself.

Azula leaves for her home then, having had enough of this debacle. Her team is losing badly anyways.

...

She doesn't know how. She doesn't know why. But when she looks to her left side across the stairway near her seat in the stadium, Azula's eyes fall helplessly on the same girl her eyes fell on weeks ago and her stomach does this curious back-flip. It's like a weird sort of deja vu, Azula thinks, but somehow she also remembers both the events as clear as glass.

She shakes her head and tries to watch the game. But her wandering mind doesn't stop flying over the details. Azula had spent the better half of an entire week after the last match to forget about the girl with the brilliant blue eyes, brown locks of hair that fall on her shoulders like waves, and her loud as fuck companion (Azula gave up on remembering his name and just calls him 'Pony-tail guy' in her head).

But, Azula never thought she'll be seeing that girl again, considering how she's seen a lot of beautiful girls but never had the chance to see them again. But this . . . this feels different somehow. She doesn't want to think about it, but it's all she can think about. Maybe she also thinks about how the girl would look up close, or how full the girl's lips are-

Wait- The girl's lips are full, right?!

Azula's eyes immediately shoot to her left, unable to resist herself anymore. But she almost reels back in shock when she finds the other girl staring straight at her, hypnotic blue eyes locking on to Azula's golden brown orbs for not more than 2 seconds, before she averts her heated gaze to whatever the pony-tail guy is screaming about.

There's a significant distance between them, but Azula's body reacts to the silent interaction (if she can even call it that) as if the blue-eyed girl was standing right in front of her. What will Azula do if the girl actually stands before her and stares at her like that, Azula doesn't like to spend too much time mulling over. This is hard enough as it is.

The rest of the match, Azula feels eyes on her. Blue ones, to be precise. But she almost nails her own eyes to the ground in front of her, trying not to look back to her left. She even finds herself getting distracted by the game for a little while. After all, that's what she came here to do, didn't she?!

At recess, the pony-tail guy moves to the stairway towards the area where snacks are sold, and he immediately recognises Azula, much to Azula's resentment.

"Hey! You're the girl who caught the ball last match!" He calls over to her. Azula looks at him awkwardly, giving him the fakest smile she could muster. He pays no heed to her unease. "I'm Sokka, remember?! We met last match!"

Actually, she remembers him as 'pony-tail guy', but he doesn't need to know that.

"Yeah . . ." She trails off, not really wanting to have a full-blown small talk. "I remember."

"Cool!!" He beams. "I'm here with my sister. Wanna come join us?!"

Okay, so they aren't together together. They're siblings. Geez, she should've known better. Also, who joins a stranger on their first time meeting?! Second time meeting but it doesn't really count.

"I . . . uh . . ." Azula doesn't know what'll happen to her if she ever has a proper conversation with the blue-eyed girl. Her brother seems to sport the same eye shade too; must be a family event.

The overly-excited brother seems to catch on to Azula's hesitation. "Hey, it's okay. I get it! You don't have to if you don't want to. Have a nice day!" He chirps and gives her a wide smile before heading his way to the snack stands.

Azula's eyes land on the pony-tail guy's sister as he leaves and she looks . . . wait, pissed?! Why does she look pissed off?! She's glaring at her brother's retreating form and Azula's body shudders at the look on the girl's face. She looks extremely fucking hot when she's pissed and Azula doesn't know what to do with this information.

Blue eyes fall on Azula suddenly, and Azula panics and turns to the ground in a hurry, not wanting to look at the girl when her mind is starting to fill with unholy thoughts.

When the game ends, Fire Ferrets gaining victory quicker than she anticipated, Azula walks out of the stadium at top speed, not wanting to dwell there any longer.

...

It's the blue-eyed girl.

She's here.

From this angle, only the blue-eyed girl's wild, wavy, brown locks are visible and yet Azula recognised her in a jiffy.

Azula's pretty sure she hasn't seen this girl in this coffee shop. She would know cuz this is the shop she comes to regularly and never once had she seen this girl here. It's all very suspicious. It's already the third time her eyes are finding the girl in like two months and Azula's getting worried that it's the universe playing tricks on her.

She averts her eyes from the line before the coffee shop counter where the blue-eyed girl is standing at.

No, she thinks. She wouldn't let the universe dictate her life. She's already had enough of it through her mother. She has her coffee order on the table she's sitting at and that's all she needs to look at. NOT the counter.

Maybe the girl and her loud-as-fuck brother are new to town or something. Yeah. That could be it. All Azula needs to do is wait till the girl leaves the shop and then continue on with her life like nothing happened.

Azula looks at the counter slyly, through her lashes, trying to see if the coast is clear for her. But unfortunately for her, the blue-eyed girl turns around from the counter, having received her order, and steps out of line.

Maybe it really is Azula's unlucky day or something, when the blue eyes that's been haunting her from day one, falls directly on her in a sharp glance and Azula's stomach jumps up to her mouth.

The girl stops dead on her tracks, coffee almost spilling from her hand. Azula's heart skips a beat when the girl stares at her with her lips falling open slowly.

But it only lasts a second more, before blue eyes frown deeply and rush out of the shop in a hurry.

Azula blinks at the blank space left at the girl's wake.

She really needs to get her health checked.

...

Azula gets a ticket far away from her usual seat. She does NOT want to run into that damned girl again. Azula would never ever admit to the way her stoamch flips every time they have a silent interaction though.

She walks into the stadium for a much awaited relaxing match, a little strange with getting a different seat from her usual one. And she made sure that the Pole Waves were NOT playing this match, so the chances of running into the girl and her pony-tailed brother are almost zero.

She melts into her seat, excited for her team.

...

Azula's in the middle of watching her team win deliberately, when she hears a sharp voice near her.

"Are you stalking me?"

She whips her head around, almost missing a whiplash. And the moment she does, her eyes fall on wavy, brown hair and stunningly deep, blue eyes that's all too familiar; and her heart jumps to her throat.

The moment she recognises who it is, there is a sudden sharp pain in the nape of her neck. Her eyes are locked on the girl's hypnotic ones, but she can't help but get distracted by the pain she's feeling on her neck.

She hisses softly, her palm flying to her neck and catching hold of her nape, trying to ease the pain. But the girl in front of her is having none of it.

"I'll call the cops if I catch you trailing me next time." The girl says, before turning on her heel and walking away briskly.

Azula stares after her, still wincing from the pain on her neck.

What just happened?!

...

Azula spends almost fifteen minutes trying to angle her phone in a way that would photograph the back of her neck. She's in her room, trying so hard not to think of the girl and how the hell she found her in a stadium full of people.

And damn this cursed pain.

Her neck is sore, and Azula's pretty sure that a bee stung her or something. She really needs to see what's going on in order to plan the best course of action.

She gives up after fifteen minutes though. It's tiresome to twist and turn your hand in order to take a picture of the back of your neck. Then suddenly, and idea hits her. She's seen hairstylists do this and it really is the best course of action.

She runs to her dressing mirror and opens the front camera in her phone. She holds the phone behind her neck and the reflection of the front camera's image falls on the mirror in front of her and-

Wait a damn minute-

Is that a tattoo?!

She gasps and drops her phone in shock.

No way . . .

She picks her phone back up and holds it behind her neck again, not believing her eyes.

It's a tattoo, for sure. It says, "Are you stalking me?" in neat, cursive, black letters and the skin around it is tender and red. But that doesn't stop the faint blue glow that's emanating from the etching on her nape.

It looks . . . beautiful.

The reality of the situation sinks in Azula's brain.

Sure, she knows the significance of this. It's been literally told to her a million times by million different people, what happens when the first words are spoken to you by your soulmate. But she never really wanted it to happen to her, and the fact that it happened with the girl she's been dying to get out of her head is completely insane for Azula.

And imagine the look on the girl's face if Azula goes and proclaims this revelation to her.

Keyword: IF.

...

Azula's scaning through the different varieties of milk kept at the shelves of Walmart. She's been here for five minutes and still hasn't arrived upon a choice.

And that's when she feels herself getting yanked by the arm all of a sudden. She yelps at the quick tug, stumbling along the store out of balance, trying to pull her arm away from the deadly grip.

She feels herself getting dragged to the back of the store to where the restrooms are. The door opens and shuts and Azula feels a sharp pain on her back as she gets slammed against the closed door of the surprisingly big Walmart bathroom.

She hisses in pain, closing her eyes and throwing her head back.

Her collars get yanked forward and her hazy vision focuses on the person in front of her. Her eyes immediately widen as she realises it's the blue-eyed girl standing close to her, breathing hot air against her face in short gasps.

"Didn't I tell you not to stalk me?! I don't even need the police to take you down."

Azula flinches from the proximity, her heartbeat through the roof. She rests her hands on the girl's hips, readily available for her to hold.

And what's this whole thing about Azula being a stalker?!

Azula was literally buying milk. The whole thing is just confusing as fuck to her, so she takes a deep breath. She contemplates the situation for a whole minute, staring at her supposed soulmate in question.

Then she speaks in a firm, soft voice. "I'm Azula, and I'm your soulmate."

The blue eyed girl stares at her. "What?"

"I'm Azula, and I'm your soulmate." Azula repeats herself, thinking that the girl didn't hear her properly.

"No way-" The girl cuts herself short and suddenly winces in pain.

Azula's brow raises as she notices the girl's hand fall away from her collars and clutch her chest. "Ow!" She exclaims.

A faint, golden glow erupts from the girl's chest and Azula can't help but notice that the colour is so pretty bouncing off of the girl's deep, blue eyes.

The hand still clutching Azula's collar is now doing it for a different purpose. The girl is completely bracing herself against Azula and she can't help but think that she wants the girl to do it more.

She's trying so hard to soothe the pain, but Azula knows exactly how that pain feels, as she experienced the same thing mere days ago. It's especially hard if someone hasn't had a tattoo experience before.

"Don't fight it." Azula quips, not really knowing what to say or do.

When Katara looks up finally, Azula notes that she's completely in a state of shock, still trying to make sense of whatever is happening. Her delicate, brown fingers catch hold of her blouse and removes the top button carefully.

When she pulls her shirt collars apart, revealing her chest, a small gasp escapes both of their throats.

The faint gold-tinted glow is wrapped around fine, neat, and precise, black, embedded writing that says, "I'm Azula, and I'm your soulmate."

The blue eyed girl's delicate fingers run over the tattoo that conveniently sits right on top of her chest bone, as if to proclaim that she's Azula's property and no one is supposed to touch her other than Azula herself.

She won't admit it, but Azula likes that idea too much to the point where she wants to kiss the tattoo on the girl's skin over and over again, claiming the blue eyed angel for herself.

The girl stares at Azula, eyes wide with shock.

Then like a whirlwind, she exits the bathroom, leaving Azula blinking at the empty space she left at her wake.

...

Katara's pretty sure she's going crazy. It's not even been a whole week since her soulmate was revealed, and she already feels like the whole world is conspiring against her to make her meet the girl at every chance she gets.

Azula.

Katara would never admit that the stalker's name feels exquisite, rolling off her tongue. She's spent countless hours staring at the glowing tattoo on her chest. It strangely matches the stalker's eye colour and Katara doesn't know what to do with this fact.

She's been trying to avoid anything and everything that is even remotely related to the soulmate situation. It didn't take the humans long to commercialize this whole thing. Anywhere you turn there's a shop that asks you to buy stuff that your soulmate might like.

It's exhausting.

Especially when Katara wants nothing to do with it. She's been dreaming of having her soulmate and ever since she was a little girl, she's been planning their wedding and whatnot. But she certainly did NOT expect a freaking STALKER to be her soulmate.

It crumbled every expectation she's ever had about the whole soulmate situation.

Now, walking rapidly in uptown Republic City, she's determined to avoid any and every commercial shop that is intent on selling her stuff that offers to make the soulmates happy. She's already taken a different route, walking in uncharted territories just so that she might not have to deal with street vendors.

One in particular is this balloon guy. He's been pestering her for full five minutes now, asking her to buy a balloon for her soulmate just because she has the glow surrounding her that only happens to people who've found their soulmates.

"Make them happy today!" He calls out loud towards her, bombarding her with a face full of balloons.

"No, thank you!" She tries to clear out the balloons in front of her face, blocking her vision.

But she isn't quick enough as her foot, unfortunately, finds the step to the sidewalk and she's falling.

She's falling hard and fast, until suddenly, she feels a steady grip on her arm and she's not falling anymore. She jerks forward, her whole body launching in the opposite direction due to the inertia it wants to stay in. But the grip on her arm is firm. A moment later, she's being pulled up.

She's so incredibly grateful for the person who caught her, cuz without them, she would've totally ate dirt.

"Thank you so much for-" Katara's eyes suddenly find the person who helped her and the words die down in her throat.

It's her.

The stalker.

She's looking down at her, casually holding a blue balloon in one hand and Katara with her other. She has this smug smile on her face, as if she knows something Katara doesn't and Katara just wants to slap it away.

"YOU!" Katara exclaims, eyes wide and nose flaring in rage. "This was all your doing, wasn't it?!"

The stalker's eyes narrows ever so slightly. "What?"

Katara's at her wits end here. This is getting waaayyyy outta line and Katara is pretty sure she didn't ask for any of this. "You arranged for that balloon guy, didn't you?!"

Azula's eyes lift up to look over Katara's shoulder and sure enough, the balloon guy is standing there, silently witnessing this happen. All it takes is one harsh glance from Azula and he's running away from them at top speed.

"He was selling balloons for soulmates and I thought something was up." Azula addresses Katara. "So, I bought one."

"Wha-?!" Katara is cut of yet again as she tries to step forward, forgetting that there still is a step to the sidewalk and she ends up falling right into Azula's strong, and ready arms. This time, Azula takes a precautionary step to wrap her free arm around Katara hips, so that she doesn't try and fall on her face again.

The act puts them both closer than Katara would want. But she doesn't yet realise it that it's what she needs.

"And here you are." The stalker emphasizes her point. "Falling for me right on my doorstep."

Katara perks up. "Your what?! NO. YOU are stalking ME."

"Yeah . . . I'm stalking you . . . In my own house . . ."

"Huh?!" Katara frowns comically. "Your house?!"

"Yeah . . . This is my house." The stalker points to the huge mansion behind the gates at the sidewalk. "Wanna come in?" She asks her. "I'm Azula Sei'naka by the way."

"Yeah, no kidding! You've already tattooed that on my chest, didn't you?!"

"It wasn't my fault! You really think I want to have a person like you as my soulmate?!"

Katara blinks at her, offended. "A person like me? What's that supposed to mean?!?!"

Azula wastes no time. "It means that you're obnoxious and entitled."

"Oh-" Katara pauses. "I thought you were offending my ethnicity . . ."

"What? No." Azula's face scrunches up. "Why would I do that? That's lame. I would only intentionally hurt your personality."

"Bold, coming from you, you stalker!"

"I didn't stalk you!" Azula exclaims. "I don't even know your name for god's sake! And you're supposed to be my soulmate! The universe really is trying to test my patience."

Katara's eyes suddenly fall on the balloon clutched in Azula's hand. "That's . . . actually my favourite colour."

Azula pulls back her head. "Yeah . . . I figured." Her golden eyes scan Katara's costume from top to bottom. "That's why I bought it."

Katara takes a step back from Azula's immediate vicinity, giving them both a little room to talk instead of getting distracted.

"Look," Azula begins, already having had enough of this. "You can bicker with me for all eternity, I don't care. But you can make this easier for the both of us and cooperate. I don't think the universe is gonna let you go until you actually talk with me properly. Trust me, I would choose otherwise, but I don't think we're in control. Maybe there's a reason we're paired up."

"Okay . . ."

Azula takes in a deep breath. "So . . . you wanna come inside?"

Katara nods.

***

if i'm ever this inactive here again, come and kill me with a rock. hehehehe.

but here you go! i've been gatekeeping this for long enough and y'all deserve some azutara in your lives :)

if you see any typos, no you didn't 🙈

#azutara #atla #azula #ragzie yaps #katara #kazula #katzula #atla drabbles #drabble #one shot #atla fanfic #asks #asked and answered #fic prompts #send me a ship and a number and i'll write for it

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