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swordsandholly · 2 days

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Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

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vivwritesfics · 1 day

Note

hello vivi!

would it be ok if you did a norlestappen or a lando and max poly - I really don't mind what kind just maybe not angst - I would love some fluff though! thank - you so much :)

i call this sleepies

"Where are they?" Max asked Charles.

They were supposed to meet outside of the McLaren garage so that the three of them could leave together. Max was there first, always the first to want to leave and Charles was there just after him.

But she and Lando were nowhere to be seen.

"Do you think they're still inside?" Charles asked, nodding his head towards the garage.

"They have to be," Max answered, pulling his phone from his pocket. He dialled Lando's number and pressed his phone to his ear.

He didn't know that Lando was asleep. He didn't know that Lando was so deep in sleep that nothing was going to wake him up. He didn't know that she was with him, too, curled up against him as they slept in the two small chair.

When he didn't respond, Max put his phone down. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head.

Charles already had his phone out, already had it pressed to his ear. He looked at Max as he waited for the person on the other end to pick up. But they didn't and he put the phone down. "She didn't pick up, either."

They looked towards the McLaren garage. The den of papaya (instead of den of vipers, get it?). They had no choice but to go inside.

The two non McLaren drivers sucked in a breath and headed inside. They asked all of the McLaren staff if they had seen their loves. The first few they asked shook their heads. They had no idea where to find Lando and their girl.

But then someone had an answer. "I saw them sleeping on the couch," she said and quite literally pointed them in the right direction.

And that was where they found them, sleeping on the couch. Lando was upright and she was on his lap. Her head was against his chest and his head was against her own. Her hand was gripping his shirt, curled into fists.

"Look at them," Charles said, wearing a small smile as he sighed. "They're just..."

"Adorable, I know," Max answered. His arm was around Charles's waist as they looked at the pair. "But his back is gonna kill for the race tomorrow."

"Meaning an easier win for the both of us," Charles reasoned. "But we love them and we don't want him to get a bad back."

"We're definitely not just moving them because we want to cuddle them," Max said with a nod.

"Nope, this is for them."

"Not our selfish reasons."

Max picked her up. He kissed her head and scooped her into his arms. Her head was immediately against his chest and she let out a whine, but she didn't wake up.

Charles tried to pick up Lando. The most important word in that sentence was tried. Because he definitely failed. He almost immediately dropped Lando, waking the poor boy. "Fuck, cha!" He cried.

"Lando!" Charles hissed and held his finger to his lips.

Lando glared at him, but then he looked past him, at the girl sleeping in Lando's arms. She stirred and everybody stilled. But, when she didn't wake up, they let out a collective breath. "Should we get her home?" He whispered as Charles helped him off the floor.

"We were thinking the exact same thing, baby boy."

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 days

Text

i wanna make your heartbeat run like roller coasters

for @subeddieweek day one with the prompts manhandling and accidental subspace

rated e | 3,520 words | please check ao3 for tags

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Eddie gets pushed against a lot of lockers.

It’s rarely accidental.

It’s always painful.

He doesn’t exactly have a lot of meat on his bones. Every hit leaves a bruise.

So when Steve fucking Harrington does his own dirty work for once, even though he graduated the way Eddie was supposed to, it’s just a bit embarrassing that it doesn’t hurt. It feels…kinda like he should be on his knees.

Which is really not something he wanted to think about when Steve’s got a hand on his shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise, and something like fear in his eyes. Why is he scared?

“Did you sell weed to Robin?” he asked, teeth clenched.

Jesus fucking Christ. Steve’s got himself a band nerd girlfriend. How the hell did that happen?

“No, I sold to her friend. She waited by the treeline talking to herself the entire time.”

Eddie could hear his own voice shaking, but he wouldn’t back down. Black eyes were kinda metal weren’t they?

“Which friend?”

“Dude, I don’t even know. Someone else in band.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened and he barely bit back a whimper.

Steve’s eyes were very pretty this close. They were pretty from far away, too. Honestly, having Steve this close was probably rewiring something already broken in his brain. Having Steve’s hand on him like this was making his brain do somersaults trying to stay focused.

And then his hand was gone.

Eddie breathed in, breathed out.

“Sorry. I-” Steve shook his hands out and backed away. “Sorry.”

Eddie ignored whatever the fuck was happening in his stomach. It shouldn’t be happening so it isn’t, simple as that.

“Maybe you should ask your girlfriend if you’re so worried about her buying drugs.” Eddie should learn to shut his mouth at some point. “I only sell to the people who come to me first.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I remember.” Steve wiped his hand down his face. “Sorry again.”

Eddie looked him up and down, taking in the fact that he was genuinely apologizing. No one ever apologized for knocking him around, not even when it was on accident.

“You good?” He eventually asked.

“Yeah. Just, she’s been through a lot. I didn’t really want her to get pressured into buying something,” Steve sighed. “Has she come out of the band room yet? I’m supposed to bring her to work.”

“Uh, yeah man, everyone left an hour ago.”

Eddie watched Steve’s face fall as he checked his watch and must’ve realized the time.

“Shit. Okay. I must’ve lost track of time.”

Steve looked pitiful. Eddie’s seen dogs in alleys who looked less beaten down and neglected than Steve currently did.

“I can help you find her?” Eddie offered for some unknown reason.

Well, he knew the reason, but he was choosing to ignore it.

“She’s probably already at work. It’s my day off so I ended up getting distracted with something and didn’t realize it was so late,” Steve admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks, though.”

Wayne liked to tell Eddie he was too nice to undeserving people. Lord knows he gave his dad too many chances and got let down every time. He even tried to be friends with Tommy Hagan in middle school because he could sense something was going on with Tommy’s dad much like his own.

But Eddie liked to remind Wayne that Eddie is often considered undeserving and he took him in and gave him multiple chances regardless.

“You wanna smoke?” Eddie asked, despite knowing he barely has anything left after the long week of midterms for students. His busiest times of year were right before school breaks, midterms, finals, and graduation weekend. He usually stocked up, but with Rick being in prison again, he had to try to stretch what he had out.

“Uh…smoke what?”

“Weed.” Then it hit Eddie that maybe Steve was into harder stuff. But he hadn’t ever even bought from him in high school. Tommy had, Carol had, almost everyone at his parties had, but Steve never did. “I have regular old cigs too if you prefer.”

“Yeah, man, cool,” Steve sighed with relief.

“I got a spot behind the cafeteria if you wanna…”

“Sure, yep, let’s go,” Steve nodded, gesturing towards the double doors that led outside to the cafeteria and auditorium buildings.

As they walked, Eddie’s mind raced with thoughts of being alone with Steve, Steve’s arm brushing against his, Steve pushing him against the wall of the cafeteria, of Eddie dropping to his knees and unbuttoning Steve’s pants and-

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there.”

Steve’s voice shook him from his thoughts, but his dick didn’t quite get the memo. When did he even start getting hard?

“No worries, dude.” His face scrunched in disgust at calling Steve dude. What was next, the bro pat on the back? A fist bump? “Kinda jealous of how protective you are of your girlfriend.”

Okay, actually, what the fuck? Eddie needed to shut his fucking face, right the fuck now.

“She’s not my girlfriend, but uh, I don’t think you’re really her type either,” Steve gave him a look, one Eddie knew well and one he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing on Steve’s face right now.

“Right, right.” Eddie wouldn’t make him say it, especially if it was actually the look he thought it was, but maybe he could offer a little something in return. “Yeah, she’s not really my type either.”

Steve stopped just before they reached the hidden area behind the dumpster and picnic table for staff to smoke.

“Really?” Steve’s eyes were wide. “So you’re more into…someone like…me?”

Eddie was actually leaking into his goddamn boxers. Why was he getting turned on just talking to Steve?

“That would be one way of saying it,” Eddie said. Still easy enough to back out of it, at least. Could just say he likes women who wear polos and use more hairspray than Melvald’s has ever carried at any given time.

“Huh,” Steve continued walking to the picnic table, sitting on top of it and kicking some dirt off the bench by his legs for Eddie to sit. “So those rumors were true?”

“That depends on if I’m gonna make it back home to my very loving uncle if I say yes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Obviously, I’m not gonna judge you about it when my best friend is-” He cut himself off and Eddie had to give him major credit. The Steve he used to know never would’ve cared if he outed someone, or at least never would have realized that was wrong. He coughed and then looked down at the bench. “You gonna sit?”

Eddie sat down on the bench, extremely close to Steve’s legs. Almost touching. Was that heat coming from his body or was Eddie just extremely warm?

“Did you actually wanna smoke or did you just wanna get out of the hall?” Steve asked after another minute of awkward silence.

“We can smoke.” Eddie reached into his pocket, hating how tight his jeans were in the front, and grabbed his lighter. His pack of cigarettes were usually stored in his van because he rarely smoked them, but luckily he’d brought them with him all week to sneak smokes between classes. He pulled one out and handed it to Steve.

He started to light his own when Steve leaned down, his face right next to Eddie’s, breath hot on his neck.

“You aren’t gonna light it for me?”

Eddie whimpered.

He would deny it a million times over if anyone asked. He almost had himself believing he imagined it.

But Steve laughed and backed away, pulling out his own lighter and giving Eddie a second to catch his breath.

What the fuck was that? Did Steve know he was making Eddie’s brain flatline?

He watched Steve take a long drag out of the corner of his eye, his mind shuffling between ‘what if he fucked me right here?’ and ‘get the hell away before your dick pops a hole in your jeans.’

Steve’s lips were so pink, and looked so soft, and just wet enough from licking his lips before taking the next drag, and Eddie was really going through it right now.

He’d gone through his Steve Harrington phase just like everyone else, thought it was over when he graduated. Had avoided the mall all summer when he heard he was working at Scoops so he didn’t have to see him in those tiny blue shorts. Had even gone so far as to avoid being around when the kids were being picked up from Hellfire because Dustin mentioned Steve was his ride.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Except for Eddie’s imagination was impressive, and his late night thoughts turned into very vivid scenes of Steve working him to the edge and making him beg, or pushing him against a locker and making him take his cock with barely any prep, or-

“Dude, anyone ever tell you you’re kinda space-y?” Steve’s voice once again lifted him from his thoughts, though he felt a bit hazy.

“Think I’m comin’ down with something,” Eddie squeaked out. All he was coming down with was a sickness deep in his chest: Harrington Heart-itis.

“Did you hit your head?” Steve sounded concerned now, setting his cigarette in the ashtray left on the table and moving so he had one leg on either side of Eddie. His fingers landed in Eddie’s hair, pulling his head closer and inspecting it for injury. “I didn’t think anything but your shoulders hit, but maybe-”

“No,” Eddie gulped. He should pull away. “Didn’t hit my head.”

Steve’s fingers tightened, not quite painfully, but enough of a bite to it that Eddie whimpered. Again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but his fingers stayed buried in his curls, and Eddie felt pressure guiding him to rest against Steve’s thigh.

“You eat today?” Steve asked, though his voice sounded kinda far away, like he was above the surface of the water and Eddie was sitting at the bottom of a pool looking up at the sun. “Eddie?”

“Hm?” Eddie blinked up at Steve. “I ate.”

“When?” Steve’s hand was cupping his cheek. “Lunch?”

“Mmm, no,” Eddie shook his head, blinked. “Breakfast? Cereal.”

Steve cursed under his breath.

He was so pretty. Had he been told how pretty he was? Surely when Nancy was with him, she told him.

Even if Robin liked women, she had to at least notice how pretty he was, right?

Steve’s sharp intake of breath somewhat centered Eddie.

“I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Steve whispered, leaning down so his face was only inches away.

Eddie could kiss him. It would be the easiest thing in the world to lift his head the final two inches to make their lips meet.

“Eddie, eyes open,” Steve’s fingers tightened again, gaining Eddie’s full attention. “Should I call someone? Are you dynamic or something?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. What did that even mean?

“Like the sugar thing?” Steve continued.

“Diabetic?” Eddie still felt a little hazy, but he was starting to come back to it with Steve’s hand migrating from his hair to his shoulder. “No, my sugar’s fine.”

“I’ve got some soda in my car. I can drive you home and then bring you to school in the morning. You probably shouldn’t drive like…this.”

It all came crashing down when Eddie realized how vulnerable he’d just been, how he’d actually lost track of time, not sure exactly how long he’d been sitting between Steve’s legs with his hands in his hair before he started coming back to earth. He stood up, maybe a bit too quickly, rocking a bit before finding his balance.

“Woah, take it easy.” Steve held his hands out, grasped his biceps to hold him steady. “You were pretty far out of it. Don’t rush it.”

How fucking embarrassing.

Eddie had only gone down that far one time with someone and they got freaked out when he was giggling and couldn’t walk on his own because his legs felt like jelly. But that had been on purpose. This was- Steve didn’t– Jesus Christ.

“I’m fine now.” Eddie was not fine. He knew what would happen if he left right now. Aftercare was a major part of this whether Steve was prepared for it or not. “Just, um, walk me to my van.”

Steve looked like a kicked puppy, but Eddie didn’t have the time to explain all of this to him.

Steve Harrington didn’t know how much of a freak Eddie was even if he did know he was gay. There’s no way Steve participated in any type of BDSM with the many girls he slept with in high school.

There was absolutely no fuckin’ way Nancy Wheeler let herself get tied to a bed and get fucked by Steve.

He shook his head at the thought.

“I’d feel a lot better if you let me drive you. I promise we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Steve sighed. “I just don’t know if you should drive when you went down so hard.”

“You have no idea what even happened,” Eddie argued, pacing back and forth. “I can drive. I just need to walk it off.”

“You don’t walk off subspace.”

Eddie froze. Steve was standing right in front of him now, concern in his big, stupid, adorable eyes.

“How do you even know about subspace?” Eddie whispered.

“I slept with half the high school and two guys in Indy. I know what subspace is, Eds.”

Eddie must still be in space. Or maybe another galaxy.

“Sorry, did you just say you slept with two guys in Indy?” Has Steve seriously fucked more guys than Eddie has? Eddie, the resident gay man of Hawkins, has only been with one man in his entire life and Steve has apparently slept with two?

“Well, I wasn’t gonna sleep with two men in Hawkins!” Steve threw his hands up before putting them on his hips. “I hit up a gay bar and didn’t realize it doubled as a BDSM club until I was already in it and then a nice guy showed me the ropes. Literally. There were ropes involved.”

Eddie snorted. Steve was pretty and funny. Great. Just what he needed.

“I have a quick recovery, so I’ll be fine to drive home,” Eddie tried, though even he could hear his voice still shaking.

“No one is that quick,” Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a hug. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Not like that.”

“We should probably talk about it.”

The last thing Eddie wanted to do was talk about how someone playing with his hair and moving his head around while showing the bare minimum of care was enough to send him into subspace, but he had a feeling Steve wasn’t gonna give up easily.

“Fine. What should we talk about? How no one ever touches me gently so the moment someone did, I slipped? How I’ve been avoiding seeing you anywhere in public because I knew it would make my crush come back full force? Oh, I know!” Eddie laughed hysterically as he pulled away. “Let’s talk about how I still think about you in your stupid basketball shorts when I’m fucking myself on four fingers, which is never enough because I can never reach the spot I need to. Or how I once cut out your yearbook photo to keep for jerking off material because my mags weren’t enough. Could even talk about how earlier I wanted you to put your leg between mine so I could rub off on you. Or maybe the weather if you’d prefer that.”

Eddie was panting, could feel the heat on his face rising as he realized everything he’d just said, admitted, to Steve.

He’d never said any of that out loud. Shit, he’d barely said most of it in his own head.

Steve’s arms were pulling him in and Eddie let himself have it, let himself feel small for just a moment. If Steve wasn’t completely disgusted by what he said, then he would at least accept this offering of kindness for now.

They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Eddie started to wonder if he could just live here, right in Steve’s arms.

“It’s looking a little cloudy,” Steve said quietly, hands still rubbing Eddie’s back slowly.

“What?” Eddie still felt a little out of it, but that was entirely out of left field.

“You said we could talk about the weather.”

Eddie snorted. “Oh my God, you’re so-” Eddie looked up at Steve, who was smiling down at him. He felt off-kilter, being the object of that particular Steve look. “Stupid.”

It was fond, probably too fond for someone who needed to protect himself from whatever the hell was happening. He needed to shut this down.

“It’s been mentioned,” Steve’s eyes flickered down to Eddie’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “You good to head out?”

Eddie started to nod, but stopped.

This was his only chance. He wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d ever be alone with Steve again. If he was gonna kick start a spiral over feelings, he might as well go all out.

He stood at his full height, almost eye level with Steve, and leaned in.

The kiss was not even close to perfect. In fact, as far as kisses go, it was probably in the bottom three for Steve. Eddie chose not to think about how he screwed it all up.

But once the initial shock wore off, and Eddie put his teeth away, Steve’s hand cupped Eddie’s cheek and he licked past his lips.

Leave it to Steve to turn this around, make it something worth the risk.

Their lips moved in sync, both of them deepening the kiss without making it too wet, too filthy for a public space.

It was, dare he say, romantic.

Most kisses Eddie had managed to have were dirty and rough, hidden away in dark bars and alleyways, not exactly prime teen romance.

Of course Steve was good at this, of course he made Eddie melt against him, and of course Eddie was going to start writing hearts around Steve’s name in his notebook as if they were high school sweethearts.

When they pulled apart, it took him a minute to open his eyes. How stereotypical.

Steve was already looking at him, softer than he probably deserved.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Eddie breathed out.

“It’s been mentioned.” Steve’s lips turned up in a smirk before he pulled away completely. “Let’s go.”

They walked back through the school, stopping at Eddie’s locker to grab one of his textbooks as if he actually would use it. By now, he didn’t really need the textbooks to get his work done. And he was actually committed to getting it done this time around.

They were quiet as they continued out to the parking lot, only a few cars belonging to teachers left, maybe a few students stuck here for football or basketball practice. Steve’s car was towards the back, but Eddie’s was almost all the way in the grass field by the main road. It was less risky leaving it further away, less likely that anyone would slash the tires or key the side.

“You’re sure you can drive?” Steve asked as they stood outside his car.

“Yeah. Only five minutes to the trailer. It’ll be fine.” Eddie shrugged like it was nothing, but he was actually a little worried the kiss set him too off balance to focus on the road. Fuck the subspace, Steve’s lips were like discovering a new galaxy.

“Can I call you later? To check on you?” Steve seemed hesitant to ask.

“Uh, yeah? Do you…have my number?”

Steve shook his head, opening the door to his car and reaching into the glovebox to find a pen and an old receipt. As Eddie wrote down the number to the trailer, he thought about how much worse this would be tomorrow, how shitty it would be to have had this absolutely out of this world experience with the one person he never thought he could and then be left with scraps for the rest of his life.

“You uh, you don’t have to call, man. Don’t feel pressured. My uncle will be home so it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

Steve took the paper and pen back, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket and throwing the pen back into the car.

“I’m gonna call.” Steve moved a piece of Eddie’s hair from in front of his face. “You got a phone in your room?”

“No, but the one we have reaches to the bathroom?” Why the hell did he need one in his room?

“Good. Need you to be alone.”

“Steve, what the hell does that mean?”

“How else am I supposed to tell you what I wanna do to you?”

Well, fuck.

Day two: ao3 | tumblr

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #subeddieweek #sub eddie munson #dom steve harrington

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withleeknow · 2 days

Text

wishful thinking. (06)

chapter six: like lightning

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, swearing, this chapter is also pretty mild in terms of warnings? the angst begins here tho !!! could've been more edited but yk lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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If I never laid eyes on you Would I feel something missing? If you never laid eyes on me Would you know something’s gone?

Happy Accidents - Saint Motel

You don't know if you've ever changed, even once, in your life.

You feel like you're still 8 years old and your best friend is the neighbors' elderly dog that they let you play with every weekend. She's a golden retriever, and she would stand taller than you if she could walk on two legs.

You're still 16 and your happiest memories are of a boy who doesn't love you back. But all of your friends say that he does, and oh, how much you want to believe that their words are true.

And at the same time, you're 22, just a few months shy of 23, sitting in front of a canvas showcasing your own bleeding heart. Your growing pains, laid out by acrylics and gentle brush strokes. You liken yourself to the figure in front of you, the one that's standing in the corner of your painting, overlooking a sea of blues and grays. There's a piece of you that's left behind in everything you create. Sometimes, you leave it there on purpose, a memorabilia for your future self to look back at fondly.

You think of everything in your life that has changed and how you're the only thing that has managed to remain the same. The dog eventually dies and the boy moves on with his life. The passage of time is relentless but you seem to be the only one who can't keep up with the tireless flow. You're always running in place, always stuck behind in the end. There's a past in which you still live, one where you don’t know if you'll ever make it out of.

You think of home and the search comes up empty, like it does every single time. Home isn't here inside of your own body, nor is it within the four walls of your childhood bedroom. You've never felt like you belong anywhere. Everything is always fluctuating, constantly and unabatingly spinning and spinning and spinning when all you're asking for is a minute to stand still and catch your breath.

Home isn't always a place, that much you know. Maybe home isn't even a thing that you build but something that you find, in a person or a touch, in a feeling or a scent. Perhaps that's the problem, isn't it? Home is something you find, and you've spent your whole life searching.

People say your early 20s are supposed to be the best years of your life but that sentiment has never resonated with you. These are the years that you spend in excruciating limbo, where you're not an adult but you're forced to be anyway. The years where loneliness is an invisible friend that shadows you day in and day out, a presence you don’t want around but can't seem to shake off, a haunting that's far too gentle to be considered such. These aren't your best years; these are your saddest years.

None of it helps build character. It just hurts.

It hurts. You accept that it hurts. You keep on living, always accompanied by the hurt. At some point, it stops bothering you as much; you've grown numb to the way it stings, but it doesn't mean that there aren't days where you're pierced with a sudden and debilitating hollowness in your chest.

Here you are, half an adult but still a child, wondering if you know anything more than you did when you were 8.

You just want to go home, but you don't know where home is.

You look at the small pool of yellow acrylic paint that's been sitting on your palette for a while now. It feels so out of place among the other insipid tones, even though that has always been your intention - a burst of life amidst a sea of blues.

You don't think about anything in particular when your fingers pick up a brush and dab it in a generous amount of paint. It doesn't make much sense, but it feels right. You don't think about anything in particular when your hand smears the color on the cavas, on the figure, a startling stroke right in the center of her chest, contrasting all of the dulls and darkness surrounding.

Though, you do think of him afterward. Of him and daffodils and spring.

The rest of your friends are already present when you and Felix show up at Chan and Jess' shared apartment, holding boxes of pizzas and a case of beer.

It's a cute tradition that was started last year, when all of you promised to gather the final Friday of every month to have a cozy little dinner party among yourselves. It usually takes place at Chan's, since his apartment is bigger than the rest of yours, and because him and Jess are practically the parents of the group anyway.

The second you step into the living room, a chorus of groans erupts all around. Hyunjin and Jisung are the most vocal petulant babies, pouting from their seats, complaining that you two took too long and that they've been starving for hours.

You and Felix shrug off your jackets before delegating the tasks to the lot of them, since you were in charge of picking up the food for tonight. Minho and Seungmin grabbing plates and cups from the kitchen for Changbin and Jeongin to set on Chan's large coffee table.

You opt for a seat on the carpeted floor, next to the spot on the cream-colored couch where Minho left his phone, feeling more comfortable this way since the table is a little low for your liking. They come back a few minutes later, and you smile up at Minho when he reclaims his seat on the couch.

"Hi." He smiles back, smoothing a hand over your hair in greeting.

"Hi," you say. Even a touch so simple warms you up from the outside chill you were in mere minutes ago. No one else notices his lingering hand on you, or it's just such a you and Minho thing to be mildly affectionate with each other that the others don't care to comment on anymore.

You all fall into easy conversation soon after everyone starts digging in, chatting amongst yourselves as you always do. You and Hyunjin lament about your respective projects, reiterating the frustration that you've already expressed through your texts for the zillionth time. Chan and Jess nag Jeongin about introducing his girlfriend to the group, to which the younger one responds with an exaggerated groan as one would when their parents ask about grandchildren, though he does placate them by promising to bring her along the next time there's a party.

You don't care enough to tune into Minho's conversation with Changbin and Felix about the new gym they started going to. You do, however, catch Changbin's attempt to tease Minho. A playful scoff, followed by, "Minho lost his abs ages ago."

Your response is automatic and therefore, it doesn't warrant much thought from you before the words are tumbling out of your mouth. "No, he has abs. They're still there."

You don't recognize the weight of your words until you notice all chatter has halted, and you look up to find all eyes on you.

"How do you know that?" Jeongin is the one to voice everyone's collective thought, puzzled, a little surprised.

"Yeah, isn't Minho notoriously weird about that stuff?" Felix adds.

You blink in a daze, and you don't know if your face is reddening because of embarrassment but you sure hope that it isn't. The mouthful you're munching on gives you a reason to stall, your reputation of being a slow eater makes the excuse more believable when you don't answer right away.

As subtly as you can, you nudge Minho's leg with an elbow. He just laughs, though you're pretty certain he can tell that you're internally freaking out.

"I was walking her home from class a few weeks ago and we got caught in the rain. She let me come up to her apartment to change," he says calmly.

You remember that day. He was walking you from campus back to yours, so that part was true. But it didn't start raining until you were both sheltered in the comfort of your apartment, with him on top of you as he fucked you nice and slow on the couch. You didn't know when the rain stopped, but it must've been some time during your shower that you offered him to join with the innocent intention of cleaning yourselves up and saving water, only for him to end up on his knees with his face between your legs and his fingers buried deep inside of you. He'd made you come three times that afternoon, then took you out to udon afterward.

"And you just... changed in the middle of her living room or something?" Changbin asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Minho shrugs, completely nonchalant. "Yeah."

The silence in the room persists as you swallow down the bite. Their stare lingers on the pair of you, then they turn to look at each other like they're speaking a secret language that you're unfamiliar with. Why is it such a scandalous thing for you to see Minho without a shirt? You've seen your other guy friends shirtless numerous times before, when all of you are hanging out in someone's apartment on particularly hot summer days.

Though, they aren't wrong. The arrangement between the two of you muddles your memory, but you don't really remember seeing Minho flaunt his bare skin often before.

You're about to squeeze out a weak response to aid Minho's explanation, but your friends just start nodding along in acceptance.

"I guess that makes sense. If there's anyone who would see him naked, it'd be Y/N."

This definitely makes you blush. Minho laughs again.

"What?! I did not see him naked."

Well, look who's a liar now?

"Y/N, and whoever he's banging," Hyunjin supplies, which seriously doesn't help the flush on your cheeks at all.

"Why would it make sense that it was me?" you protest.

"Because you're his favorite." Jess is the one who answers, to which the rest of your friends all hum in agreement. The way they're reacting makes it seem as though it's just a fact of life that you're Minho's favorite, and that whatever boundary he lets you cross or whatever rule he breaks when it comes to you is simply a result of this fact.

Not once has it crossed your mind that everyone might have a favorite person in the group, but now that it's been said, you quickly conclude that Minho would be your favorite too (your secret arrangement notwithstanding.)

You glance up at him, seeking reassurance with a curious blink. "Am I?"

"You're alright," is what he tells you in lieu of a confirmation. "The least annoying one."

And you don't know if it's the way he speaks ever so gently when he looks at you or how his lips curl up in a knowing smile that sends a tingle of warmth down your spine. Or perhaps the culprit is the softness in his sharp eyes that makes you a little dizzy, makes a pair of butterflies go rampant at the pit of your stomach, as though they're prepared to soar when the ardor of spring begins to thaw the winter frost.

Chan laughs, "That's practically a declaration of love from Minho."

At one point, Hyunjin looks around and comments with a mouth stuffed full of pizza, "Wow. We are literally perfectly divided."

All eyes fall onto him, clearly no one is catching his drift.

Hyunjin swallows his food and washes it down with a big sip of beer before gesturing vaguely at the group, "All the singles are on the floor."

You look at the people on the couch while they stare back at you, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Changbin and Felix sitting comfortably on the fluffy rug.

"I'm single," Jisung says, pointing at himself. "Should I get on the floor?"

"No, you're not," Seungmin says flatly.

"What?"

"Didn't you get back together with your ex girlfriend?"

"What?" Jisung practically squeaks out. "Man, what are you talking about?"

"I live with you. We literally share a wall. I heard you last week. The whole two hours."

“You were home?!”

"My shoes were by the door. I had dishes in the sink. I went to the bathroom to pee several times."

Jisung gasps, growing redder and redder as more eyes start diverting their attention to him. He opens his mouth only to promptly close it as he thinks of what to say. Repeats the process a few times. "We didn't hear you. You never said anything," is what he settles on stuttering out. Then, "Why didn't you bring it up? Why do you have to air out my dirty laundry now?"

"It's more entertaining to embarrass you in front of everyone." Seungmin shrugs, and ignores Changbin's subsequent comment calling him a pervert. "And no wonder you didn't hear me. You were going at it like you were rabid."

"Wait," Jeongin says, "when did you even get back together?"

"We didn't. It's complicated! We're just… y'know…"

When Jisung trails off sheepishly with the bright blush still apparent on his cheeks, Minho cuts in, finishing his sentence bluntly, "Boning."

You send him a glare from where you're seated on the floor, to which he just gives you a lopsided grin and nudges you with his knee.

While everyone else is busy bombarding Jisung with questions on potentially getting back together with his ex, Minho quietly slithers down to the floor like a stealthy cat, squeezing himself into the space between you and Felix. Minho rests his arm behind you on the couch, leaving it stretched out comfortably on the cushions, just lightly touching your back. Usually, when you two are alone, he would have his arm wrapped around your shoulders so he could pull you close, until you're safely tucked into his side where you would remain on most of your evenings spent together. But for now, he leaves his arm where it grazes you only slightly as you sit among friends, with the exception of his hand reaching to play with your hair once in a while.

"Hey!" Hyunjin practically screeches, pointing at Minho when he notices. "Why did you get on the floor?"

"What?" Minho asks innocently. "You said the singles are on the floor."

"You're not single. You have a girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Hyunjin scoffs. "You have a sneaky link."

"Hmm, not the same as a girlfriend."

"Why can't you just tell us, man? There's gotta be something else you're hiding."

You stay quiet, still as a statue while they bicker back and forth, like the mere motion of your breathing could give your secret away. You don't doubt that Hyunjin has been hounding Minho about his new discovery ever since the night of Yeonjun's party, but Minho seems unfazed about it, evading Hyunjin's badgering with a calm composure that's distinct to no one else.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, quickly shuffling away as if your absence at the table would help make things seem less suspicious for Minho. You splash some water on your face, wait for a while until it feels like an appropriate amount of time has passed for them to have already moved onto another topic. You are, quite literally, hiding from your own friends.

Moments later, you re-enter the room with gentle footsteps and a certain tension in your spine, but you soon grow relieved when you find that the conversation has somehow shifted to Seungmin and his on-again off-again not-girlfriend, about which he just seems kinda sad for a few seconds before he's telling everyone to fuck off and mind their own business, always quick to conceal any and all emotions. He's similar to you in that way, you suppose.

You sit back down next to Minho who's still on the floor, though you put a little distance between your bodies that wasn't previously there. You don't know if it's enough to be noticeable, but he does look at you for a brief moment before leaning a bit closer, asking softly so only you could hear, "Walk you home later?"

You embark on the familiar route from Chan and Jess' place back to yours. It's not that late, barely even 10PM on a Friday night, but the streets are almost deserted. Barely anyone tipsily roaming the streets with their friends in tow; just a few cars passing by every now and then. You relish in the peace and quiet, sighing softly to yourself as you walk in the crisp evening air.

Minho takes casual strides next to you, letting his hand brush against your hand for a while until his pinky finds its way around yours. The tranquility of the city is nice, but being with Minho is even nicer.

Just some of the stars have come out to play, though the way they gleam and glimmer is enough to make up for what they lack in numbers. It's easy to get lost tonight, when you're looking up at an infinite sky with little light and only Minho's pinky hooked around yours like an anchor to guide you back home.

In the grand scheme of things, you're just a speck of dust. You're young and confused - 23 is still a child in your mind - and most of all, you're insignificant. Not in a self-disparaging way. Maybe in the literal sense of the word would be more accurate.

You are insignificant, merely a face among billions of faces. In a crowd of hundreds, or maybe only dozens, you're not someone who would stand out and be picked. Sometimes, it's nice to blend right in and hide in plain sight; you don't particularly enjoy being under the spotlight anyway. But sometimes, it's lonely to be just a drop in the ocean. You could sink right to the bottom and no one would even notice.

Maybe that's why you enjoy being around Minho so much. He makes you feel safe, and seen, like you matter in the end. He makes you feel like if you were to disappear one day, there's a person out there who would go to the ends of the earth in search of you.

You hope that he sticks around, that he wants to be in your life for as long as you can have him. You're not sure what it is that makes you sick to your stomach at the mere thought of losing him; perhaps because you know you will never come across another one like Minho in your lifetime. There's nobody else that can make you feel the same way he does.

I don't want to lose you. You're the only good thing I have.

An intersection, two left turns, and your apartment building comes into view all too soon.

"Wanna come up?" you ask bashfully. The streetlights do a good job at masking your light flush.

"I can't tonight," he says, a little apologetic. "I'm going to my parents' house first thing in the morning."

"Oh." You're disappointed for no specific reason. Sure, you were practically glued to Minho's side for most of the evening, but you were also surrounded by the very friends who are unaware that you two have been sneaking around behind their backs. It's been about over a week since you hung out with him alone, which isn't that long ago by any means, but still. "For the weekend?"

"Yeah, just for the weekend."

There's a selfish urge, just a tiny one, to ask him to come for a while anyway, maybe only twenty minutes or so, but you swallow it down and wave it away. "Okay, have fun. Say hi to the cats for me."

"I'll send you pictures," he tells you. "They miss you, y'know."

You smile at that, laughing a little. "They've met me once."

Last fall, you and your friends all took a weekend trip to Minho's childhood home for his birthday. It was fun for you, though you're not sure how much his parents actually enjoyed it, considering they had to house and feed almost a dozen kids that weren't their own. You remember the cats, of course you do, and how Soonie took an immediate liking to you, how he mostly hovered around your personal space whenever you were in the house.

"No, seriously. My mom says Soonie meows your name once a day."

You throw him an eye roll, accompanied by a light punch to his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Min," you say. "Text me when you get home."

"Okay."

Even after that, the two of you still stay rooted to the spot, your pinkies interlocked. Minho's gaze doesn't leave your face, and for a moment there, it feels like most of the stars didn't show up because they all left to gather in his eyes.

"Can't go up if you don't let me,” you quip, glancing at your hands, knowing full well that you can easily retract your finger if you want to.

His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer. "Let me kiss you," he asks softly, releasing your pinky only to take your hand in his, tugging you closer until you’re all up in each other's personal space.

You blink at him, your heart caught somewhere in your throat. You're close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. "Min…" you murmur but you don't actually know what you want to tell him, so the nickname hangs like an idle lantern in the bubble of space between your faces.

"Just a goodnight kiss."

"Friends don't kiss," you say meekly, reminiscent of your conversation over a week ago.

"Friends don't have sex either," he repeats.

"But we’re not having sex."

"You asked me to come upstairs. What do you think we would've done?"

And he's right. If he had agreed to come up, then you would probably be pressed against the door right now, with his hands trailing down your body, removing every article of clothing they find, his lips kissing every exposed patch of skin along the way.

Minho would've been kissing you regardless - anywhere and everywhere, and you wouldn't have had any qualms about it like you do right now, even though you want to kiss him too.

"Maybe I wanted you to come up to make you peel tangerines for me while we watch a movie."

He says nothing to that, only grins amusedly and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. It's so cute that you can't help but mirror the quirk of his lips. You're sure that no one else gets to see this version of him - the one that boops you like an overly affectionate cat and smiles like you're his favorite person not just in your little group, but in the whole wide world.

"I haven't kissed you all week," he murmurs, his voice so gentle in the quietude that surrounds you. "You were right there but I couldn't kiss you all night."

You lose yourself in his brown eyes, the same eyes that hold nothing but sincerity and fondness for you. The stars here are brighter than the ones overhead.

"Let me kiss you," Minho says, "please?"

You cave. Of course you do.

The first glide of his lips over yours has you weak in the knees. Something sinks in as he kisses you deeply. Under the streetlights, not surrounded by your familiar four walls like a long lost secret but out in the open where anyone can see, even though there's not a single soul around.

Again, tears well up behind your eyelids the same way they did that morning you woke up next to him for the first time. You don't know what it is, never felt this way around anyone except for him. It's akin to the feeling of finally coming home after being away for a long time, or at least that's what you think that's how it would feel.

You don't want to be caged in by the walls of your own making. You want to be seen, and you want to be seen by him. You're the remnants of snow and ice stuck between cracks in the sidewalk, and he is warmth. You're a mosaic of a daffodil garden caught in an endless winter, and he is spring. Minho is the brief but wonderful moment when cherry blossoms have yet to fall from their branches, but green leaves are already growing impatiently, resulting in the beautiful coexistence of pinks and greens if only just for a few days.

You let him kiss you until you're both out of breath, let him wrap his strong arms around your body and hold you like he could mend all of your broken pieces. Maybe he could. Maybe you'd like him to make you whole again.

When Minho pulls away, he doesn't stray very far. He puts enough distance between your faces so you can catch your breath. But even then, you have a hard time getting air back into your lungs. He's looking at you like he would pick the moon for you if you asked, like moving mountains is no more difficult than peeling tangerines for you whenever you get a craving.

The streetlights are dim, but the stars in his eyes are bright enough to tell you something that his words don't.

It hits you all at once, in a moment where even the wind is still, as if it's been reduced to a mere spectator, watching the two of you with bated breath on the sidelines. The tipping point can be something as simple as him asking - almost pleading - to kiss you goodnight with no ulterior motive, no other intention than because he wants to. As though it would kill him if he had to go another minute without kissing you.

You realize why he's the yellow to your sea of blues, why you're so happy every time you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You realize why you feel so safe around him, why he makes you experience emotions that no one else can. You realize why you don’t like hearing about Hana, or any other person in the same sentence as his name with the implication that he could be romantically involved with them.

You realize why you kissed him for the first time all those months ago, and it wasn't because you were sad and he just happened to be there and let you cry on his shoulder. The times that your friends would tell you how you and Minho would be perfect together - you wanted it to be true. You knew it was true - that he was someone you could love, the only person who's worth opening up to. You kissed him because you wanted to love him. You realize why it made you soar when he kissed you back, because you wanted him to love you too.

You realize why the thought of losing this friendship terrifies you. You realize why you asked him to stay that night after the party and the club, even though you had never allowed him to sleep over before. You realize why the other week you let him only kiss you and nothing else, and you realize why your heart is hammering in your chest this very second, why your knees are weak, why you can't really breathe here in the middle of an empty street under a moonless sky, just because he's looking at you as if it's not the sun that the earth revolves around but rather, it's a girl who has never learned how to say what she means.

You're good at leaving things alone; it's a skill that you've unintentionally mastered over the years. Nothing has to change if you let it remain the same. And yet, the one exception always seems to be Minho, and you're a mirror of yourself when you're with him. You like the version of you that only he's able to bring out, and he does it effortlessly every time. He pulls happiness out of you so easily that it's hard to ignore what you feel for him, hard to convince yourself that what you harbor for him is still only platonic affection.

It comes bubbling up to the surface without your permission. It strikes you the same way lightning splits open the whole sky on a cloudless night, abrupt and unmistakeable. Love isn't something that you've ever come close to, and you have always been an unbeliever when people answer "You just know," in response to "How do you know when it is love?"

Though as you stand right here, right now, you think maybe this is what love is supposed to look like, personified with starry eyes and shallow dimples when he smiles.

Before he leaves, Minho presses another sweet kiss to your cheek. You're still dazed by the dawning, overwhelmed by the recognition that you can only mutter a stupid "Bye," when he bids you good night.

As you watch him go, there's something else you realize, almost tragically, that you've always been a ruiner. You run away the moment shit starts getting too real, even if it means letting beautiful things slip through your fingers like running water.

Love just isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 2 days

Text

The creator had a:

sea streaked child

WC:800

Cw: reader is said to breastfeed but isn't written doing so

Checking the blinds to make sure they were clean, remaking the ruffles so they are even.

Furina had spent her entire morning jittery walking everywhere in the palais mermonia.

Now across the room she is digging in between the blue roses hiding any less than stellar bloom under one of its prettier sisters.

Changing the tea set on the table in the middle of the room, cerulean blue, cobalt blue and sky blue swapping places faster than Neuvillette can pay any mind to.

She sighs, looking defeated at the sets and almost begging them to tell her which one is supposed to be best yet for one second the teapots looked like mocking faces. Throwing herself on a loveseat the room starts to feel smaller and she isn't even totally sure what tea to serve.

“Breath” neuvillette says from the desk, ever since he took over the leading role in Fontaine he spent more time between pages of legal documents, if that is even possible “they are arriving for a simple chat to check on the general management of the region”

“How do you even expect me to be calm when they themselves asked for my attendance for this meeting!” she sits up wobbly, the soft swirling getting worse “I can't even remember what cake you told me they liked… this is going to be a mess”

“Their grace has quite the sweet tooth, as long as what you planned doesn't have coffee it's going to be alright”

“Why no coffee?”

“miss furina… they gave birth a few days ago, it’s disadvised to breastfeed and have caffeinated drinks” seeing her nod and her little ahoge bobbing along he feels the need to confirm “that not only includes coffee and variations but also most teas” and with that she jumps to her feet, quickly excusing herself to make some changes.

“That child…” he sighs as he reviews the documents he wanted to show you and a rough overview, his head resting against his hand and a finger between his teeth. Feeling the door whining softly he laughs from the bottom of his throat “back soon early?”

And as his heart skipped a beat as you spoke “Oh, my, I know I am 30 minutes early but I thought you would like to meet me particularly” you walk deeper inside the room, past the meticulously fixed flowers that you wouldn't have noticed the mistakes on and past the three teapots on the table, each a slightly different shade of blue. Now standing besides neuvillette and facing the documents he just noticed the bundle of white cloth you held onto.

“Did the crops get better with the method I recommended? It left me worried when I left”

“The production got better, if you want to check the report is here” he offers the three papers stuck together by a metal clip when he notices that doing it with a single hand might be hard “if I might help you” he positions his arms to grab the baby and you let her between his arms

“Let's hope she stays asleep, she is such a colicky baby” you whisper but as soon as you finish the sentence she opens her eyes and starts wailing “my goodness…” you sigh deeply.

“Let me take care of it, just focus on that” he stands up and tries to mimic what he saw parents do with their small children whenever something upsetting might come up during the trials and small children would cry.

He grabs her neck and head with one hand and her legs with another, cradling her like you. As he was swaying softly the blanket covering her hair slid down to show pointy ears and softly cartilage mixing on her thin white hair.

“Is she…” but is soon shushed by you, pointing at the door and then to your ears, the message very clear ‘someone might be listening’ but he keeps his eyes glued to you only to catch you mouthing a soundless yes. His hands cradle her head onto his neck, soft blue cartilage sneaking past his fingers.

Now soothed, you two find comfort on the soft sound of passing the pages and Cordelia's breathing, the baby's name he would later find out.

“NEUVI I managed to get a cheesecake and fontas did i save this?!” Furina pushes past the door, holding a full size strawberry cheesecake and hugging three fontas against her chest but seeing you head on thinking you weren't on Fontaine yet “HIYY”

The screech caused Cornelia to get startled and start wailing “Miss Furina.” neuvillette says sternly, almost like a father telling off his daughter. But the only thing it caused was for her to see him hugging a baby suspiciously similar to him which didn't take her long to join the dots.

“OOAH!”

“Furina please stop scaring my daughter!”

#genshin impact #gi #sagau #self aware genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #neuvillete #genshin neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #meme made in WhatsApp my beloved

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doki-doki-imagines · 3 days

Note

hello there!hope you're doing great!! if you take resquets, may i ask for hcs about mk1 characters(maybe earthrealm champions, liu kang, syzoth, ashrah; sorry that's too much, you can choose those who you like best) reacting to gn reader suddenly hugging them really tight, and when they ask the reader, they explain themselves feeling cute agression and an urge to squeeze the life out of them,, sorry if it seems weird or anything, you can ignore it if you wish so!

author note: went with the last three and johnny! If you want you can request other characters too! You are lucky to have that kind of reaction, usually I either want to jump out of the window or punch them in the face LOL

Johnny Cage: -He is cooking, or better putting stuff together, hoping it will turn edible, when he feels your tight hug. -Your arms encircling his waist, your head laying on his back. -"Mh? What happened?" Johnny asks, with mirth in his voice. "You are so cute cooking for us. I had to impulse to hug you. You are just so fucking cute." You say into the back of his grey shirt, ending your speech with a kiss on his neck. -If you could see his face you would notice a smile taking most of Johnny's face. He so wants to kick his feet in the air like some schoolgirl. -But instead Johnny punches the kitchen wall cabinet, before turning around finally ready to give you the same amount ot sweetness. -It seems like you aren't the only one suffering for cute aggression.

Liu Kang: -He was simply helping one of the monk in daily chores when he hears you calling him. -Liu Kang excuses himself, a god that has his dna imbued in humilty, and walks toward you in a secluded area where usually nobody comes. The ruin of old temples all around, nature overflowing from every corner. -Liu Kang doesn't have the time to ask what is going on, your arms around his neck, grip tight. Your lips smack in between his eyebrows before you stick your face in the nook of his neck. -"Oh wow. I suppose thanks?" He says, lips near enough to your ears that you feel inside you the low chuckles that bloom from his throat. "You were so nice out there. You are a god but you still help us anyway, you are so nice Liu." You say, whining in his neck, leaving another kiss there. "You are so good Liu, you are such a good god." You keep blabbering, but without any other reason that thinking it for real, wanting to make him feel good. -You see, Liu Kang doesn't suffer of cute aggression, but being told he did a good action, that he is a good boy sparks…something else. -"Liu? Is your temperature rising? Are you fine?" You ask, looking up into his eyes. He nods, before breaking the hug, but now holding your hand, pulling you who knows where. -His won't be the only temperature rising.

Syzoth: -He is studying in the library and you are sitting in front of him, bored out of your mind. -You start to look at your boyfriend face, noticing how the little ray of sun lighted his face, making his green eyes shine under those long blond-ish lashes, the hood of his uniform covering his head, but some of his hair brighten under the sun. -The points of his tongue wet his lips while turning page after page, searching more and more of his origins. -Syzoth is concentrated, eyebrows furrowed, almost looking angry, but you could only see cuteness radiating from his body. -So you do the obvious next step; sitting next to him and hugging his neck till he almost chokes. -"Oh! What is happening? Did something scare you?" Syzoth asks, mostly worried. You kiss the top of his head, still covered by the green hood before saying "No, you are just tremendously cute while studying. My hot nerd." You mumble, still hugging him. -Syzoth doesn't really understand this, not used to these acts of affection, but you seem happy. You called him cute, doezn't know what a nerd is, so he relaxes under your touch. -When you let him go, Syzoth goes back to his book, but will keep an arm around your waist to feel you close to him.

Ashrah: -You are preparing tea for both of you, while Ashrah is sitting on grass, at the entrance of Wu Shi forest. -When the hot beverages are finally ready, you exit the kitchen, and you see her. -Ashrah is surrounded by nature, obviously, but you see some magic in there. The bees seem to create happy dances in the air, butterflies, so big and colourful flying from flowers to flowers and then- -A cute bird lay on Ashrah's shoulder. She turns around and smiles at the creature that chirps before flying away, leaving a happy smile on the demon's face. -She looked like an angel. -You throw the cups on the grass (thankfully, they don't break in million pieces), and run towards her. The hug is so powerful that she ends up laying on the ground with you on top. -"Hey! Is everything fine?" "Yes, you are simply the most beautiful being ever." You say, before kissing her fully on the lips. -She pats your head, happy at least that you are not hurt. -"I'd still like tea-" "Yeah, yeah I'll make it again. Just let me rest in your arms a little longer…" -You soon fell asleep on her.

#mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mk headcanons #mk1 headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #liu kang #liu kang x reader #mk reptile #syzoth #syzoth x reader #mk ashrah #ashrah x reader

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stariikis · 9 hours

Text

ni-ki as your study date •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

synopsis ; the price you paid for choosing an athletic boyfriend over an academic one? no practical help when you're drowning in mysterious equations and symbols. but at least he's good at comforting the perfectionist in you.

pairing ; athletic!nishimura riki x academic achiever!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 802 warnings n notes ; dear readers, these two are mentally suffering because one doesn't care and the other cares too much! trigger warning, bio phys chem and math mentioned..

“-And during PE we played badminton, and Jake hyung was soooo bad today. He kept trying to smash but missed the shuttlecock.” Beside you, with his “I-swear-I’ll-finish-three-chapters-today” Physics textbook hardly opened to the first page, Riki doesn’t stop rambling about the various sports he’s played today. You’ve heard enough about the goals he scored during an impromptu morning game of football. The way his best friend fumbled during a badminton match. How his legs ache from standing in the sun for hours during baseball training. You’re about to tug him out the cafe by his jersey.

“Are you going to start your notes or what?” You shove him with a lighthearted tone, barely concealing the exasperation behind your words. “All that talk about wanting to finally get an A but you still keep yapping. About sports, no less.”

Riki rolls his eyes and mock-salutes in your direction. “Yes, ma’am.”

Taking a sip of your matcha latte, you sigh resolutely and return to examine various electronic configurations. Perhaps now, Riki will leave you in peace…

Only five minutes later, you’re snapped out of focus with a sheepish nudge.

“What’s a moment…” “OH my days Nishimura Riki how can you not know what a moment is that’s like basic physics you’re supposed to have known that since we started chapter TWO.”

Shrinking under your scoldings, he glances back at his textbook, reads the definition and looks back towards you. “I don’t get it.”

With another heavy sigh, you scoot closer and attempt to explain as simply as you possibly can. However, he’s deliberately distracting you, with playful caresses through your hair and touches of kisses as smooth as silk on your cheek. You’ve got to be turning a beetroot red, but you ignore the warmth spreading through your cheeks and continue on.

“Now repeat what I just said to you.” Refusing to give in to his silly antics, you cross your arms and lean back. Swiping the hair his fingers touched, not too long ago, out the way.

He pouts, knowing him acting cute is your soft spot. “That’s not fair.”

“Why?” You press, but relent and hunch back over your notes. “You know what, just focus on relearning your balanced forces. Do you remember what the principles of moments even is?” Oh wait, he doesn’t even know what a moment is. The way he blinks once at his textbook and blinks twice your way proves this.

“At this point, I’m not dead, you’re more cooked than I am. And I am cooked.”

Gasping scandalously, he whisper shouts, “You’re literally my academic goal, what are you on? I wish I had the motivation you did. Okay, more like I wish I had your grades, but we both know that’s not happening.”

He gestures to all the bruises he’s obtained over the past week, scratches and wounds that demonstrate how dedicated he is to all the sports he partakes in. They’re his own personal souveniers. Although most fade quickly, some leave scars burning in his skin, but he’s proud of them all even when you express your concern for him.

He’s always been like that. Dismissive of concerning matters because he enjoys showing people how strong he is. Internally and externally. The complete opposite of him, one Maths question you get wrong and you start questioning the very bane of your existence.

You fall into silence, looking back at your notes. You have lost track of where Chemistry starts and ends, your paper copy of the periodic table crumpled and defaced from your bursts of frustration. You may not show it, but there’s so much going on in your head it’s hard to escape the fog you’ve mentally put yourself in. With the crazy STEM course you’ve chosen, you know that you’re definitely on the train tracks with a sign pointing towards a crash site.

Either you shut yourself out and pass with flying colours, or you enjoy life and fail miserably. There’s no in between. Is it so hard to want to maintain a social life and a healthy relationship, while topping your class and achieving high honours? Perhaps it is.

Noticing your sudden stillness, Riki panics. “You’re stressing out again. Why are you stressing out again? You’re doing well. Well, compared to me. Should I just do bio? Things with numbers are always complicated..”

You laugh as he looks back at his noteless textbook.

“Anyway, I think you’re doing just fine.” Riki murmurs, massaging your back with his hand. “Don’t overwork yourself and you’ll be fine. Just like you were, and always will be. Do you want me to test you?”

“That’d be nice…” You smile, watching his eyes light up a little too eagerly when he closes his textbook. “But you’re just saying that so you don’t have to study anymore, right?”

how life be feeling rn, send prayers

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ohmtoff · 3 days

Text

Shots, shots, shots (Part 1)

Nick Sturniolo x Masc!OC

Summary: Nick is most definitely not having fun at a frat party Madi dragged him to, but this boy who’s staring at him hungrily may help him to have a good time (or: a very cliche and very self-indulgent fic of Nick getting it on with a frat bro)

WC: 4.8k

Contains: college!AU, frat bro!oc, drinking games, making out

Disclaimer: no smut yet, smut is in the next part. not an american, idk anything ab frat culture and the american college system in general, so there’s gna be some inaccuracies. this is just based on the frat fics ive read and my own college experiences.

a/n: was supposed to be a one-shot but i suddenly wrote 10k words💀 although i know nothing ab frat culture, how my american friends describe it is basically like any faculty organization in an indonesian uni lmao so hope my knowledge of how those orgs work help this a slight bit. anyways hope you enjoyyy <333

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Nick is most definitely not having fun.

He frowns as he feels the bitter burn of his fifth (or was it sixth?) shot going down, tipping his head back to get it to go down easily, well and truly smashed at this point. Madi would be proud. Speaking of… he hasn’t seen his best friend since they arrived at the party, the girl pestering him for hours earlier in the day to come party with her. Madi is tired of listening about The Breakup, and to be honest, Nick is too, but he didn’t agree to come with Madi only to have his supposedly best friend ditch him at the door, leaving him alone at a frat party where he knows absolutely no one. Especially not just so she can run off and suck face with some junior.

Nick spies his best friend making out with a boy he doesn’t know, back to him through the haze of the crowd, barely visible in the shitty purple LED lighting, especially with everyone packed into the house like sardines, the place filled to over capacity so that no one can move without being pressed up against someone or another. Well, unless they are sticking to the wall like Nick currently is. And he’s about to go give his friend a piece of his goddamn mind when he hears the voice beside him, his irritation still visible on his face as he turns to look.

“Hey.” The boy is staring at him with an intensity that is disarming, dark eyes set in an intense unwavering gaze as he looks, just enough light to make out the half-smile on the other boy’s face, only one corner of his mouth upturned slightly. The boy’s hair is half in his face, looking damp and mussed like he’s just stepped out of the shower. And Nick trails his gaze downwards, appreciating the other boy’s outfit, a black t-shirt with some obscure band logo, sleeves cut-off hastily, clearly homemade, the edges ragged, showing off the nice curves of the boy’s shoulders, the definition of his upper arms from hitting the gym obvious. All thrown over a pair of oversized black jeans.

The other boy is looking at him like he wants him, and Nick is too far gone to stop the delicious pit of arousal churning in his stomach, the euphoria going straight to his head, making him dizzy with desire. He’s not the type Nick usually goes for, in fact, the boy is the exact opposite of his ex, but that doesn’t stop his body from screaming fuck me now. “I haven’t seen you around before. Transfer or something?”

The question makes Nick give out a little snort of laughter. “No, not at all. Just not my scene.”

“Oh?” The boy raises an eyebrow questioningly, his tone clearly teasing as he slides in closer to avoid another boy trying to make his way past the two of them squeezed into the corner. Nick inhales sharply as the boy moves in closer, trapping him, his back pressed up against the wall with no room to go back further, the other boy bringing his arms up to brace against the wall, forming a makeshift barrier around Nick, casually caging him in. As he does, the smell of beer hits his nose, a smell he normally despises, but it’s mixing with something the boy is wearing underneath, something sweet and woody, and the combination is fucking intoxicating. “And what would be your scene then?”

He ignores the question, not wanting to say that maybe his scene is in his room, pitifully stuffing himself with fast food and crying into Madi’s shoulder about his ex months after the breakup, choosing instead to shift the topic, mumbling. “You smell like shitty ass beer.”

“Shit, sorry.” The boy relaxes his arms, his face softening into a sheepish apologetic look that Nick finds almost endearing, backing up a step so that he’s not so deep into Nick’s personal space, and Nick takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartrate. “Got doused with beer earlier when they were spraying it into the crowd.”

“Seems like a waste of alcohol if you ask me.” The unexpected response makes the other boy’s eyes go wide, a moment of silence before he bursts out into raucous laughter.

“Yeah, shit, it probably is.” Nick hates that his breath hitches automatically as the other boy runs his hand through his black hair, shaking his head in apparent exasperation, looking unfortunately all too attractive in the process. “Imagine how many people could be more drunk than they already are if they hadn’t wasted all that beer.” The boy shoots him a grin, which he finds himself returning, or at least he hopes he is.

“So how did you get here?”

“My best friend, Madi. She dragged me here.” Nick admits, a slight eye-roll accompanying the statement. “Otherwise there’s no way I would come to a party in a dump like this. Complete shithole. Floor is disgusting, and the whole place looks like it’s going to collapse in on itself if they throw another couple of parties.” He finds himself having to yell to be heard, the music playing far too loud, the bass turned up so that he can quite literally feel the floorboards vibrating underneath his feet.

To Nick’s surprise and appreciation, the other boy appears to take an interest in listening to him, craning in closer and cocking his head to the side to hear better. His ex was an asshole that wouldn’t bother to make sure he was comfortable at parties, even after knowing Nick didn’t love large crowds, preferring to hang out with small groups of people instead. Plus points. “Oh, I know Madi, met her at a general ed class last semester. She’s also friends with one of the frat bros here, I think. Nate. Anyways, enough about your friend. I haven’t even gotten your name yet.”

“It’s Nick.”

“Nick.” The other boy repeats it, long and drawn out as he rolls the sound around in his mouth, and the thought of the other boy saying his name as encouragement flashes in his head, mentally kicking himself for even thinking about blowing this complete stranger already within ten minutes of meeting. It’s the alcohol talking, definitely the alcohol. He desperately tries to repeat it to himself and believe it as he watches the other boy bite his lower lip in thought. Fuck. Yeah, so maybe it isn’t the alcohol making him want this boy. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t been fucked since The Breakup. Which was 3 months ago. Nick scowls. Fuck Madi for telling him he needs to get laid, and double fuck Madi for being right.

“And yours?”

“Evan. My name’s Evan.” The name sounds familiar, but Nick can’t quite place it, putting aside the feeling for now, instead choosing to concentrate on his plan of perhaps getting laid tonight. Which shouldn’t be hard considering the way Evan is looking at him right now. Like he wants to ravish Nick. With maybe a touch of possessiveness. Nick doesn’t mind the possessiveness, as long as they don’t go overboard. Possessive makes for a good fuck.

He gives in.

I’m here already, might as well have a good time.

He turns on the flirtiest smile he has, his lips curling into a natural irresistible pout as he keeps talking, his hand coming up to brush Evan’s arm, his fingertips lightly grazing the other boy’s bicep. Very obvious, very forward. No one would ever accuse Nick of being subtle, especially when it comes to getting what or who he wants. “Well, Evan, since this does seem to be your scene and not mine, what would you say to being responsible for me having a fun time tonight?” The words have the desired effect, Nick tracing the tightening of the other boy’s jaw with his eyes, pleased at the barely veiled show of restraint.

Nick feels a shiver of anticipation run up his spine as Evan leans forwards, tilting his head downwards as he speaks, the other boy’s hot breath against his earlobe, pressed in so close that Nick can feel the ghost of a touch from Evan’s lips. He isn’t able to prevent the gasp from escaping when he feels the other boy’s tongue, teeth giving him a quick nip. “Well, tonight’s your lucky night, baby. I am at your service. For anything you want.”

The words make Nick bristle, bringing both palms up to push at the other boy’s chest, startling Evan into stepping back off-balanced. “I don’t like being called baby.” He mutters. “Don’t do that.” His ex had called him baby, as an insult, somehow managing to insinuate every time that Nick was too demanding, too high maintenance, turning the word into a mocking reprimand each time. “My ex used to use that.” He pauses a beat. “Not in a good way.”

“Oh, shit.” Evan frowns, his eyebrows drawn together giving almost a menacing look, and Nick feels a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of Evan losing interest. Maybe I came off too strong. “Your ex sounds like an asshole.” He lets out the breath he doesn’t even realize he was holding, a ripple of relief running through him. “And all I meant…” Nick’s breath catches as the other boy slides his hand underneath his chin, tilting it upwards as he speaks. “…is that you look pretty. Delicate. Like someone who deserves to get everything they want.”

Everything they want.

The words make Nick flush, the heat crawling up the base of his neck, stinging his cheeks. I want you. And his first instinct is to throw all caution to the wind and regret his decisions tomorrow morning after the alcohol has worn off, when there isn’t a buzz in his veins making him want to throw himself at this boy. And he desperately wants it to be just a physical thing, after all, he doesn’t really know this guy. He could turn out to be some weirdo psychopath for all he knows, but damn it if it doesn’t make him feel good that this boy thinks he deserves everything. But before he can open his mouth and resign himself to his fate, a hand appears on Evan’s shoulder, accompanied by the loud voice of another boy.

“Hey, bro.” The hand on Evan’s shoulder becomes an arm pulling the taller boy into a half-headlock of sorts. “Not like you to hide away in the corner for so long. Don’t you miss being the life of our party?” The boy turns slightly, catching a glimpse of him, and Nick becomes acutely aware that he’s probably gaping. “Oh, I see now.” The boy gives him a salacious and knowing wink, casting a sidelong glance at Evan. “You must be the reason our leader here is hiding instead of greeting the guests.”

Leader?

The new boy smiles at him, bringing his free hand up in a little wave of acknowledgment. “I’m Nate, by the way.” Nate squints, giving him a careful once-over, and Nick feels like squirming, getting the distinct feeling that he is being sized up though he doesn’t know for what. “You’re Nick, aren’t you?” Nate grins excitedly at the realization. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Madi.”

Nick furrows his brows thinking how does he know Madi and why Madi’s talking about him, getting more lost within the conversation by the second. “Madi said he’d be your type, and it looks like he was right. Fuck.” Nate lets out a string of profanity, “Fuck me, Evan. That means I owe her fifty bucks. So really, fuck you.” Nate narrows his eyes at Evan, who isn’t even trying to hide his mirth, chortling at his friend’s distressed expression. “Unless, you two dickwads set me up.”

Evan shakes his head. “No, man, I didn’t even know who he was until he gave me his name.”

“Fuck.” Nate lets out one last swear in a drawn out sigh, smiling fondly at Evan. “Well, I hate to interrupt the overwhelming sexual tension between you two, but I do think our new president should give a speech at our first party of the year.”

“President?” Nick echoes the word without meaning to, the sound of loud buzzing in his ears drowning out the sound of everything else around them, noting the shit-eating grin on Evan’s face that is getting wider by the minute.

“Yeah, president of Chi Alpha Omega. You know, the ones hosting this party right now.”

Nick can feel the color draining from his face, accompanied by some wooziness in his head. Madi had told him about the president of ΧΑΩ before, about how he “got around” quite frequently, always with someone new every other weekend. And apparently in no short supply of people who want to casually hook-up with him. In short, a player through and through. And Nick can’t tell whether he’s disappointed that Evan is probably not interested in any type of relationship or just excited that the boy is likely a really good fuck. Or both.

But none of that really even matters because he had literally called Evan’s house a shithole.

Fuck.

Evan winks at him before turning to Nate. “Yeah, I can definitely say a few words. And by the way, Nick here thinks we should probably stop spraying beer into the crowd to hype up the party.” He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the overly serious and solemn expression on Evan’s face as he says that. “Apparently we’ve been wasting alcohol when we could be using it to get everyone even more drunk.” Nick wants to sink into the floor at the other boy’s next words, hoping desperately that the ground can swallow him up.

“And he’s also made me aware of the fact that apparently, we live in a shithole.”

Nate’s eyes go wide. Nick wants to kill himself.

“Well, not exactly a lie.” Nate laughs, clearly bemused by his worried expression. “We’ve been trying to get administration to move us out of this shithole for ages. They just won’t do it. So we figure if we throw a few extra ragers this year, and this dumpster fire of a house finally breaks, maybe they’ll consider letting us have a different building for the frat house.”

“Wait, so…” Nick says the words slowly, his head slow to catch up, not quite believing what he’s hearing. “…you all actually want to break this house. Like that’s your actual plan, and I’m not stuck in some weird-ass twilight zone time warp imagining this.”

“Correct.” Evan nods.

“You all are fucking crazy.”

“Correct.”

“Sooo, about that speech Evan?” Nate asks, stealing another glance at Nick. “Any time soon? Or am I assuming that you’re gonna be busy for the next hour or so?”

The implication makes him half-cringe on the inside. Is it that obvious?

“Yeah, of course, now is fine.” And then Nick feels the other boy’s hand around his, Evan’s fingers settling to interlock with his naturally as if they belong there, warm and inviting. A little overly warm, probably the alcohol. But it feels nice, gives him the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest for the first time in a long time. “You’re coming with me, baby.” Nick wants to protest the nickname, but he isn’t given the opportunity to, finding himself being dragged along by the taller boy, weaving through the crowd of people deftly, trying to keep close to the other boy’s back, his free hand reaching out to grab the untucked edge of Evan’s t-shirt. The other boy heads to the kitchen, passing by the crowd that is busy dancing, flirting, and Nick reminds himself to yell at Madi tomorrow, spotting his best friend out of the corner of his eye still attached to the face of a guy.

The kitchen is slightly less crowded, the only people slipping in and out to grab more beer or shots, the entire kitchen counter covered with half empty alcohol—rum, vodka, gin, whiskey. God, how much booze do they have? Evan doesn’t let go of his hand as he opens the fridge, rummaging around before finally coming up with another handle of vodka. The taller boy just shakes his head as Nate gives him a questioning look. And then Nick follows as he is dragged along again, making their way back to the living room, heading straight towards the epicenter of all the noise in the house. Evan finally lets go of his hand, and Nick feels a twinge of concern as he watches the other boy climb up onto the ping pong table, ignoring the cry of protests from the people playing beer pong. No way he’s sober enough for this. Somehow Evan’s voice is louder than the music, his voice floating above the noise.

“Hey, we having fun tonight?” The cheers and hoots rise up from the crowd, Evan clearly reveling in the attention, waving his arms to tell everyone to pump up the noise, and they do. After a minute or so of cheering, the other boy puts his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, quieting the crowd.

“Here’s to the first party of many this year for Chi Alpha Omega. As the president for this year, hope to see all of you underclassmen at rush in the spring.” Evan grins, and Nick hates that the other boy is so charismatic, everyone in the room turning to hang on to his every word. “And to kick off a good night, how about yours truly start off a round of body shots?” The crowd hoots and hollers. “First up, my newest friend, Nick.” He feels himself outright blushing this time, Evan looking downwards to wink at him, some of the people in the front of the crowd turning to stare.

He startles as Evan jumps down from the ping pong table, landing unevenly, grabbing on to his shoulder for balance before scooting back on to the table to take a seat, his legs hanging off the edge. “How about it, baby?”

And he’s about to object, but his mind goes completely blank as Evan crosses his arms over his chest, gripping the hem of his t-shirt in order to pull it up over his head, the other boy’s arm muscles tightening. The skin above Evan’s jeans comes into view first, the white band of the other boy’s Calvin Klein boxers just peeking out from the top, a sharp contrast from the smooth tan of Evan’s skin on top and the black of his jeans on the bottom. Nick can see a glimpse of the other boy’s hip bones, sharp and defined, and his gaze trails further upward to his belly button, abs slightly visible as Evan moves, and all the way up to the other boy’s chest.

But it’s the tattoo that makes Nick stop breathing.

It’s intricate, clearly well done and by a tattoo artist that cares about how the finished product looks, a revolver with its barrel pointing downwards, the tip disappearing under the white of the other boy’s boxers. And Nick doesn’t think he’s ever had a specific thing for guns. But fuck. Because he wants to think that he’s better than this, better than having the only thought running through his head being it’s pointing to his cock. And the overwhelming urge to find out just exactly how true it is.

“You’re up, baby.” The words make Nick snap his glance upwards, tearing his gaze away from the ink on the other boy’s skin, the embarrassment flitting through him as he realizes how long he had been staring, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Evan, who is grinning at him, definitely amused. He’s already poured the shot, messily spilling at least two shot’s worth of vodka on the ping pong table, and Nick experiences a stroke of utter insanity, the words coming out before he can stop them.

“You should probably clean that up.”

“Hmm, maybe later.”

“It’s going to get sticky.”

“Maybe I like sticky.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that the whole scene is probably bizarre as fuck, talking about cleaning while the whole room is waiting for him to take a shot off a boy he doesn’t even know. But Nick feels as if he’s in a haze, entirely blocking out the rest of the room as Evan crooks a finger at him, motioning for him to get closer, the other boy’s legs parting on the table, stretching apart to give him room to fit in between, and Nick is uncomfortably aware of Evan’s jeans, the material stretching over the other’s boy’s thighs, even tighter now that Evan is sitting.

“Come.”

He comes.

The shiver of arousal runs through him as he gets closer, coming up to the edge of the table, Evan winking at him as he squeezes Nick’s sides slightly with his thighs, making the feeling curl deliciously in his groin. And the other boy lies down slowly, not breaking eye contact with Nick as he does, and god help him, because it only makes the outline of the other boy’s abs deepen. Fuck. The shot glass is placed right over Evan’s belly button, wobbling as the other boy breathes in and out, and Nick winces as Evan starts off a chant of encouragement.

“Drink, drink, drink.”

Fuck it, it’s just one shot.

He doesn’t try to overthink it, leaning down with his head to clumsily grasp the shot glass with his mouth, intending on throwing his head back and downing the vodka all at once. He tells himself it doesn’t mean anything as he braces his palms against the other boy’s thighs, enjoying the feeling of muscle underneath his hands. But he’s not used to the motion, not able to use his hands, and he ends up spilling half of it, feeling Evan’s thighs tense around his waist as the cold liquid hits the other boy’s bare skin, some of the vodka settling into the crevices of Evan’s abs, already starting to slide off his body.

Nick doesn’t know why he does it.

But the next instant, his tongue is on Evan’s skin, feeling the other boy tense as he does it, licking the rest of the vodka off of the other boy, the feeling of burning still in the back of his throat from the half he does drink, dipping his tongue in to run along the grooves of Evan’s abs, the slight saltiness of the other boy’s sweat mixing with the taste of alcohol. And he’s pressing half-kisses, half sloppy licks against the other boy’s skin, the tips of his fingers reaching upwards from where they’re resting against Evan’s thighs to brush against the boy’s sharp hipbones, an inch or so above his jeans.

As he dips his tongue into his belly button, Evan bucks his hips upwards, the wanting movement making the arousal go straight to his cock. And he tells himself it’s because he’s trying to clean every last bit of vodka off of Evan’s body, but it isn’t the alcohol giving him a high as he runs the tip of his tongue slowly down the barrel of the gun tattoo that Evan has, the thought of going further and further down until he reaches the other boy’s cock making him hot and dizzy. The thought of Evan holding his head down and tugging on his hair as he gives the other boy a blowjob. Further, further. Evan squirms as he licks his way downwards over the exposed skin, and Nick wonders if it tickles, his nose already nudging the edge of the other boy’s boxers.

A bad fucking idea.

And he’s just about to pull away, the feeling of regret mixed with horror hitting him as he surfaces from his reckless decision, half-aware that they’re still in a very public room for the first time since Evan had told him Come, when he feels it. Evan half-hard against his palm, his hand accidentally brushing too close to the other boy’s inner thighs as he tries to move back, and before he can process that fact, everything around him moves.

Nick yelps as he feels Evan’s hands on the back of his thighs, dangerously close to his ass, and he’s suddenly being lifted up into the air, his legs coming up to wrap themselves around the other boy’s waist, his hands grabbing at Evan’s shoulders to balance himself. He vaguely hears the sound of catcalls coming from the crowd, his head falling forward, his face buried into the crook of the other boy’s neck, the smell of beer in Evan’s hair and that smell of wood and vanilla. A few quick strides, and Nick finds his back up against the wall for the second time tonight, Evan’s hips pressed into him, grinding him up against the wall as he plants kisses against Nick’s neck.

The other boy is definitely completely hard now, the feeling against his thigh each time Evan moves his hips making the arousal tighten in Nick’s groin. And it’s a fleeting thought, that he is grateful for wearing a white tank top, giving Evan free access, the other boy’s tongue darting out to run itself along the top of Nick’s collarbones, sucking likely-to-be-hickeys into his skin hungrily.

His fingers curl themselves into the other boy’s hair for purchase, needing something to grab onto as he writhes in Evan’s embrace, his eyes closed, his breath coming out ragged. An unbidden moan comes forth as he feels Evan sneak his hands underneath his tank top, the other boy’s fingers splayed against the skin at his waist, his thumbs digging into the spot just above his hipbones. Evan’s hands feel hot against his skin, burning into him more than he thought possible, and Nick’s eyes flutter open only to remember that everyone is still there, that they’re not alone.

“W-wait,” The words come out weakly in between little pants and far too soft for Evan to hear anyway, and Nick wonders if the idea of the other boy fucking him against the wall in front of a crowd of people should turn him on as much as it does. Fuck.

“Get a fucking room!”

The loud jeer seems to snap Evan out of it, the other boy stopping his attack against Nick’s neck long enough for him to catch his breath. Most of the room has gone back to whatever they were doing before, and it’s nearly impossible to pick out whoever had yelled it. “Don’t mind if I do.” Evan grins at him, not waiting for a proper response. “Hold on.” Nick just manages to get his arms around Evan’s shoulders before the other boy starts moving, hoisting him up slightly to get a better grip on the underside of his thighs, Evan’s chin nestled into his shoulder, the other boy’s breathing hot on his neck.

The sounds of the party slowly start to fade away as they ascend the stairs to the second floor, the stairway narrow and not lit, and Nick winces as he is jostled against the wall a few times on their way up, Evan’s steps not as steady he would have hoped. All he can hear now is the other boy’s breathing, slow and deep, the sound comforting, and Nick breathes in and out to match the other boy’s. I wonder if Madi was right, and I’m his type. And he’s sure that he’s Evan’s type physically, the whole display downstairs has convinced him of that, but for the first (okay, maybe second or third) time tonight, he has the niggling suspicion that he might like it if he is Evan’s type for more, the way the other boy puts him at ease so naturally and effortlessly perhaps giving him more butterflies than he’d care to admit.

His mind unwillingly flashes him scenes on what it would be like dating Evan. Would he like his eggs scrambled or poached? What shows would they binge together? Would Evan show him off to his frat brothers?

Evan licks a stripe behind his ear where he’s most sensitive. Ah, fuck it. Who cares about dating? Nick knows he’s going to get fucked till he forgets his own name tonight.

tags: @thenickgirl @mybelovednick @sukiipjs

#nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo x oc #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #nick sturniolo fanfiction

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fmaot · 3 days

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Hey. FMA Fandom. I freaking did it ok.

Lan Fan's *FULL* automail design from the manga? Yeah. It now finally exists.

Please accept this humble offering as fanon:

NOW EVERYONE DRAW HER!!!

ARAKAWA I HOPE YOU'RE PROUD!!!!!!!

Edit: I thought I'd leave some manga panels to point out a few things I don't have the skills to successfully translate in this ref sheet!

Explanations under the cut!

The armor plates on the shoulder are bigger than what I drew (I tried to put them at an angle but they just look smaller lol) I recommend just enlarging the top plate from the middle! It's supposed to hide most of the upper arm.

If you draw her in full uniform, she of course has bandages and that cool spiky leather strand around her wrist. The spiky knuckles appear to be a separate accessory as well.

The automail isn't all open right on top of the forearm, but on its side, as you'll see in the manga panels. I should've drawn the hand seen from the side but I wanted to show the screw on top of it beheheh.

The thought process behind Lan Fan's automail appears to focus on being as light as possible so that she can keep fighting with speed. Compared to Ed's very solid and armored automail to be as enduring as possible, Lan Fan's trades durability for lightness!

The mechanism for the hidden blade is basically just rings inside the fingers, to which are attached wires that are tethered close to a tiny hook. My thought process behind this is that we most likely want to avoid accidentally unsheathing the blade, so LF has to literally reach for it! It's a safety measure, but I also like that it makes her do a hand move kinda similar to Scar's whenever he's about to use his alchemy/alkahestry destruction for an attack!

For the port, have fun with it! I tried my best to give it an interesting look but I struggled with giving it a 3D metal feel. I focused more instead on where the support would be since the port can't be drilled on most of the chest. Drilled on the back it is!

Finally, if you notice the tiny lock I inserted in the simplified design, no it's not made to render the arm immovable; rather it's just there to secure the automail in the port. You know, during the process to connect the nerves. You attach the little wires, screw the bolts, and lock it all in neatly!

With this, I hope everyone will have fun drawing Lan Fan's full automail! It may not be canon, but it's at least better than nothing! So many art pieces just hide her automail because of that lack of reference, so I hope I helped change that!

(Note: the scars I gave LF on her right shoulder and left side aren't canon either. I saw an art piece way back when and somehow convinced myself that I just had never noticed in the show lol. But you can't tell me the bodyguard to a prince that canonically survived a bunch of assassination attempts wouldn't have a scar or two!!)

NOW DRAW YOUR HEARTS AWAY!!!

#everyone draw this #save this as a reference #if you draw using this use the following tag so I can see #altans design #there is no reason to hide her shoulder anymore #lan fan #lanfan #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetalchemist #fma #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #fma brotherhood #fmab #fma fanart #fanart #reference

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genericpuff · 20 hours

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This is kinda of random but why is Hecate short? I'm just curious because out of all the bad things in LO I liked how tall Hecate is and how she wore suits. ( she does look stunning in your version too )

I've found when it comes to character heights, it's really hard to discern what the actual intention was in their designs as Rachel's statements often contradict the actual appearance of the characters in the comic and how they compare to one another. For example, some people have stated Rachel revealed in her Patreon chit chat posts (or in FB groups, don't remember which) that Hades was unique for his height, being as tall as 10 feet, but as we see him in the comic, he's often closer to being 10 feet wide than 10 feet tall LOL (I don't think Rachel realized how big ten feet was when she said that tbh)

So in that regard, from a design POV it's hard to gauge if Hecate is actually that tall, or if she just appears tall because she's sometimes drawn at shoulder height with Hades (doesn't help that the character designs are always fluctuating), but also it's hard to say if one can be considered "tall" when standing next to Persephone who we know Rachel always draws disproportionately tiny compared to everyone else, to the point of outright infantilizing her.

TL ; DR: I had to pick a lane with the character designs and Hecate seemed more like she would realistically be closer to Persephone's height than to Hades (if Hades is someone who's supposed to be uniquely tall which I'm definitely trying to make him, he's meant to be a little over 6 feet tall in LR). And even Persephone's height is still around 5"5-5"7, so they're not even that "short", they just often appear shorter in relation to Hades. At least, that's the approach I'm going for lmaoo (my standard marker for it is that Persephone comes up to his chest / collarbone area).

Plus - though this is just my personal opinion - it's also just nice to have more characters around Persephone's height, not only to showcase how much taller Hades is compared to most people around him, but also to make her a little less singled out in the height department, as LO often made her absurdly small to the point of infantilizing her (￢_￢;)

That said, Artemis is taller than Persephone coming in around 5"9, and Aphrodite is meant to be quite tall (p much the same height as Hades!) and we'll be seeing more of her later on in the story, so fear not, there are tall girls to be found :'3 <3

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore rekindled ama

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notsominx · 3 days

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♡//❤ Wirothelesy ♡//❤

Tw: Sex with plot, P in V, ReaderFab!, rough sex? perverted behavior?

♡//❤

It was mostly an excuse to meet you. Hiring an attorney for a business proposal between the Fortress and some tea merchants in Liyue. You were said to be the best attorney in all of Fontaine, which piqued Wriothesley's interest. You had created a name for yourself outside of your aristocratic family. So he hired you to see for himself.

Working with Wriothesley is fairly easy, even if he was witty and had some odd eerie feeling about him at times. Yet you found the time in Merpioed quite peaceful despite what was said on the surface.

But to Wriothesley it was hard working with you.

He found you enduring to say the least.

Yet he never had your attention. Even when it’s the both of you in his office, you seem strictly stuck on business. Nothing wrong with that, He totally respects that. But how can he when his cock is strained in his pants from seeing in your work attire, or the way you bend across his desk to point at some documents.

So he tried getting your attention. Always finding a way to place his hand around your hip when you found yourself in a conversion with others around the Fortress. Or when you're reaching for a file on a shelf, he’ll come help you, pressing against your ass as he reaches for what you need behind you.

You thought you were reading things a little. Of course he was touchy. Yet he seemed that way towards everyone. Like some kind of friendly gesture, the way Wriothesley pats Neuvillette’s shoulder, or the way he slings his arm around Clorinde’s shoulders.

But it seems he was friendlier with you. Honestly, it was starting to district you for what you came here to do. And seeing that made him more touchy.

Wriothesley took it as his opportunity.

Now hugging you from behind, touching your spine or even playing with your hair. You should say something about it, he was so unserious with the business proposal that he supposably wanted.

Though because you haven’t said anything, it fuels him more. Was he getting your attention? Should he just bend you over anywhere and fuck you until you noticed what you did? Who's going to stop him if he did. He can fuck you anywhere in the Merpoid if he liked, after all, he is the Duke. The thought of that makes him hard. Having you in anyway in his land,

It was well over a month and you finally got a response back from the merchants in Liyue, and they said yes. You never doubted yourself, knowing that you’ll get this proposal done for Wriothesley.

“We should celebrate. Later on tonight once the prisoners are asleep.”

You would’ve said ‘no.’ Because you’re not a big party fan, but after realizing it’s just Wriothesley, he probably meant some kind of tea party. So you agreed,

Later on that night, you walked into Wriothesley office. From there, you both had tea and talked about yourselves a little.

You don’t remember entirely how it happened, maybe it was when you said something about his touchy nature, or when he told you how you affected him. But here you are bending over on his desk as he bullied his dick into you.

“Sh…you don’t want to wake up anyone do you? Or maybe you want them to hear how much of a cock whore you are.” He chuckles into your ear, leaning over your body. His hands dig into your sides, keeping your ass all high and mighty for him.

He could just bust the way your butt ripples each time his pelvis bucks against it. You couldn’t keep down your whines and whimpers, your nails marking his desk as you try desperately to stay grounded.

His cock was fat and the way he paced himself with no mercy makes you quiver and weak in the knees. Your weeping cunt takes him so well, squeezing around him veiny member. “Fuck..ah..you’re tight.” He pants from behind you, all you can do is babble something incoherent. You were close. So close. And he can tell.

Wriothesley is such a tease, pulling all the way out with his tip still in you, only to slam back into you. Your body jolts and you came from that. It felt great too. Just having your pussy dripping around him as he leans on you, trailing his hand down to rub your clit. “Mm..do me a favor doll..come back to the Merpoid more often..~”

Does he have your attention now?

#smut with plot #unprotected sex #genshin impact #genshin smut #wriothesley #wriothesely x reader #wrio x reader #wirothesley smut

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hooked-on-elvis · 2 days

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Millie Perkins about Elvis: "He never used his star power — never. Maybe he should have."

Millie Perkins (87 years old) was born in May 12, 1936 in Passaic, New Jersey. Perkins is now retired from working in film and television besides a modelling career as well. After playing the title role in the 1959 movie "THE DIARY OF ANNE FRANK", "WILD IN THE COUNTRY" (1961) was Millie Perkins's second movie. She was just about Elvis' own age when they worked together. The filming for Wild In The Country took place between November 1960 and January 1961. Millie was a 24-year-old actress and Elvis turned 26 by the time the movie principal photography was finished in January 1961. In a 1990 interview she talked a bit about her impressions on Elvis Presley while working with him in the early 60s:

"Elvis turned out to be someone I liked very much. I felt there was a man with a heart and soul there who truly cared about people. Certainly he treated me as if he cared about me; there was a mutual respect between us. But his life was on a level that my life was not on. I was married to Dean Stockwell at the time, and he was — I felt like he was drifting. The guys were on the set every day, you know, wrestling on the floor. I didn’t even know what girls he was dating at the time, because it didn’t interest me, his personal life seemed so silly. And yet I knew he was a victim of it. I felt like Philip Dunne [Wild In The Country's director] fawned all over Elvis. Elvis’ attitude was — I saw Elvis looking around that set and summing up people faster than anyone else could have, and I felt that after a short period of time he was disappointed in Philip Dunne, but he was too polite and well behaved to say anything. He tried very hard to make this film better than his other movies, and you saw him trying and asking questions. And I just believe the sad thing is that [the director] did not have the ability to help Elvis through it. I remember doing this one scene; we were sitting in the truck, and we were supposed to be driving home from a dance or going to a dance, and in the script he was supposed to break into song, turn on the radio and start singing. And to me it was like, "Yuck," I was very young, and I thought, "My sisters are going to tease me, this is so embarrassing and tasteless." You see, I was a snob, too. But — and this was the nicest thing — while we were rehearsing, finally the director walked away, and Elvis looks at me and says, "God, this is so embarrassing. Nobody would ever do this in real life. Why are they making me do this?" So there we were, both of us having to do something and we just wanted to vomit. He never used his star power — never. Maybe he should have. Maybe he did it on some other level, but he sure didn’t do it on the set. I felt like he was younger than me, this very humble person who would make statements about what he believed in. And I would think, "He’s saying that to show me he’s a fine human being." All I know is that there was a person there with a refined heart and soul, and I say refined on any level you want to look at it. When you meet someone like that, you know they’re there, even if they’re sitting there eating fifteen lollipops — that’s beside the point. That’s just what they’re doing at that time, but that’s not the essence of the person. The essence of Elvis was as fine a person as I’ve ever met; he treated me as well as anyone has ever treated me in this business."

— Millie Perkins (Betty Lee Parsons in Wild In The Country) about working with Elvis Presley. This 1990's interview excerpt was taken from the book in which it was quoted, "Careless Love: The Unmaking of Elvis Presley" by Peter Guralnick (1998).

Millie Perkins as Betty Lee Parsons and Elvis Presley as Glenn Tyler in Wild In The Country (1961)

Millie Perkins as Anne Frank in George Stevens' "The Diary of Anne Frank" (1959).

#elvis presley #millie perkins #wild in the country #1961 #elvis #60s elvis #elvis the king #elvis fandom #elvis fans #elvis history #elvis movies #elvis movie

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 2 days

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Are you comfortable writing cliff burton smut? If so, can you write about reader receiving oral from cliff and she holds his hands and cliff can't help but think of it as the cutest thing (by the way I loved your dave headcanons)

A/n: I'm so sorry this took so long to get to, I meant to write this so long ago and just didn't but it's so good so I had to respond at some point lol, I hope you don't mind the wait and that you like this :3

Warnings: Smut, fingering(f rec), oral sex(f rec), if I missed anything please let me know otherwise enjoy :3

Cliff had been hinting at this for a while, always trailing kisses down just a little further, nuzzling a little too much into your lap. Little things that had your mind wandering as to where he wanted to go with this.

You’d never done something like that. Of course you two have done things before, just not that. Not for any reason other than you’ve just never done it and the thought of it scared you a bit, where were you supposed to put your hands? Legs? Anything? Were you to return the favour afterwards?

On his birthday you finally decided that it was the day. You got him other presents, of course, but you were sure nothing was going to top this one.

You brought it up while the two of you were having dinner, Cliff nearly started choking on his food. Needless to say you never finished dinner.

Cliff was very careful with you, assuring you over and over again that all you had to do was sit pretty, that he didn’t care what you did with your hands or anything else so long as you were feeling good.

You were lying on your shared bed, staring up at the ceiling while Cliff got comfortable between your legs. Your hands were beside your head, clutching the pillow under your head tightly as you waited for him to start.

He pressed his lips to your inner thighs, trailing kisses up to your heat. He stared up at you all the while, watching and taking in how you reacted to his touch. When he saw nothing but good signs from you he started licking between your folds, lapping up your salty juices.

His nose bumped against your clit and his tongue delved into you. Your back arched at the new feelings you were having and your grip tightened onto the pillow as he continued, flicking his tongue inside of you, sucking your clit, his long fingers taking a turn prodding your sweet spot. All of it had you writhing under his touch.

The room filled with wet sounds mixed with your moans and incoherent ramblings. “Fuck~! Cliff-Cliff, feels s’good~” You mumbled, your hand reaching down to his head. You gave his hair a small tug and you could feel him smile against your cunt. He took your hand in his and held it as he circled his tongue around your sensitive nub.

Cliff noticed your other hand twitching and held that one as well, keeping all of your attention on him. “Such a pretty thing.” He hummed against you, sending shivers up your spine. “Holding my hands when I make you feel this good.” He kissed your clit before pushing his tongue back into you.

He made sure to pay attention to everything about you so he knew when you were close. How tight you squeeze his hands, if your thighs went to close around his head. When he saw your eyes fluttering and your body melting he knew he’d brought you over the edge and was just helping you right out the high while it lasted.

He gave your clit a final kiss before coming up to lay beside you, pulling you close to him and kissing your forehead as if his chin wasn’t dripping with your slick. “That good?” He mused. You smiled and gave a small nod. “So... I can do it more often?” He asked in a hopeful tone.

#metallica x reader #metallica smut #metallica imagines #metallica fanfiction #metallica #cliff burton fluff #cliff burton x reader #cliff burton smut #cliff burton

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sapphic-agent · 2 days

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Rewriting the Gaang in LOK

Basically how I would have written the adult Gaang. Pretend the comics as they are don't exist.

Katara: Breaks up with Aang sometime post-finale to do some soul-searching. Travels the world on her own and sees how people are struggling after the war. After talking (beating) some sense into a few government officials, she realizes that the best way to help people post-war is through politics. She becomes an (unofficial) ambassador, helping and negotiating aid for small villages that tend to get overlooked and does this for a number of years. She joins up with Zuko and Aang after they found the United Republic of Nations and becomes Councilwoman Katara, representative of the Southern Water Tribe. She eventually gets voted chairwoman due to her passion to improve the lives of the citizens (and because her fellow council members are too scared to vote against her). She heals on the side when she needs to, but only out of obligation since she can't stand to see people suffer; she puts much more effort into getting raising funds for a hospital full of healers. A few years later, Haru moves to Republic City and is just as awestruck by her as he was the day they met (the pornstache has been removed by divine intervention). They meet up a couple of times; for drinks after work, walks around the city, and they even attend a few galas together. They eventually start dating and get married two years later. They have their first daughter Kya (who's an earthbender), a son- Tyro (who's a nonbender), and another daughter Suma (who's a waterbender). They live a happy, peaceful (if you could call Katara stopping the occasional criminal before the police peaceful) life together where their children are well-loved and as part of the Southern Water Tribe as they are the Earth Kingdom. Aang's death hits their family hard, but they all come together and support each other. Katara personally mentors Korra, even convincing her family move to Republic City so that the Avatar knows the people she's meant to protect (the White Lotus protests, they fail❤️). She teaches Korra Waterbending, but also teaches her empathy and appreciation for other cultures (and that sometimes, selfish world leaders need a good punch to the face, a lesson Korra took to heart even though she absolutely wasn't supposed to see it).

Aang: Is torn up after Katara breaks up with him. He's hurt and confused and doesn't know what to do with himself. He retreats to Ba Sing Se where he talks with Iroh and learns that he unfairly pushed his feelings onto Katara. Wracked with guilt at hurting someone he cares about so much, Aang realizes that he has a lot of growing up to do. He focuses on his job as the Avatar, working closely with Zuko, Kuei, and the other leaders to heal the world after the war. The first time he sees Katara again is when she arrives to help with the United Republic of Nations. He apologizes to her and Katara forgives him, promising they'll always be best friends. His role in Republic City is more or less the same, though at some point he develops feelings for Toph. But he fears doing to her what he had done to Katara, so he tries to ignore them. But Toph, never one to beat around the bush, point-blank asks him if he's ever gonna man-up and confess to her. They start dating, and Lin comes a few months later as a surprise. They have their hiccups- Aang especially needing to reconcile with the fact that there's a chance she might not be an Airbender- but they manage to resolve them. Lin is an Earthender, of course, but Aang loves his little girl to pieces (which is good, because Toph would kill him if she suspected otherwise). Tenzin is born three years later, an Airbender, and Su Yin is born two years after that as an Earthbender. Lastly there's Bumi, a nonbender. There's always the urge to favor Tenzin, but Aang knows he can't. They're all his children and they deserve to be treated as such. So he teaches them all about their culture, takes them all on trips. The kids fight, but Aang is always quick to help resolve it (as it turns out, getting Lin and Su to stop fighting is a lot harder than getting the four nations to get along, go figure). Aang loves his wife and kids and wouldn't trade any of them for the world. He dies peacefully at age 66, surrounded by his children and the love of his life.

Sokka: Fucking hates politics. He'll leave the negotiating and speeches to his sister, thank you very much. If the room of government officials isn't a war room, he wants no part in it. After the war, he spends most of his time in the Southern Water Tribe. He works with his father to rebuild and relearn their culture, and writes frequent letters to his sister. Though, something about his life in the south is unfulfilling. Maybe he misses Suki, but there's something about inventing that calls to him. He can't do much of that in the south pole, so he leaves for the Earth Kingdom, helping villages struggling with heat, agriculture, transportation, etc. In the United Republic of Nations, he becomes lead engineer of the city, utilizing bending to make quick technological advances. He and Suki reunite in Republic City where Suki becomes the police chief. They get back together and have a daughter, Lian. The three of them live a simple life together, until Suki gets gravely injured in the line of duty when Lian is twenty. They decide to retire to the Southern Water Tribe where Sokka takes over for Hakoda as chief and prepares Lian to take over for him.

Toph: When Toph hears that Twinkle Toes and Sparky finally started that fancy new city, she thinks it's the perfect opportunity to cause a little chaos. Closing her metalbending school, she decides to relive her days as the Blind Bandit by founding pro-bending (thanks @ecoterrorist-katara for the idea!). Zuko's a hater and tries to shut it down because "safety," but finds no help in Aang who really, really loves the idea. He goes to every one of her matches and Toph feels both smug pride and... Something else. But she tells herself it would never happen, Twinkle Toes likes girls like Sugar Queen and she was the furthest thing from that. But she isn't totally oblivious, she can feel his heartbeat pick up when he's around her and how he's started to stutter when he's talking to her. So she bites the bullet and they start happily dating. But the arrival of Lin uncovers issues she didn't even know were there. Lin cries loudly and for Toph who relies heavily on her sense of hearing, it's hell. She was also unprepared for how much her body would change. She finds herself not wanting to be around her daughter. But Aang realizes this and urges her to talk to someone. After some arguing, she does. Aang is attentive, so Toph can take breaks when she needs to and Katara and Suki are always ready to get her out of the house when she's overwhelmed. Things with Lin get better and when Tenzin comes around she doesn't suffer nearly as much. Su Yin is similar. It's hard with Bumi because she's older, but Aang and her friends are there to support her. Toph can be distant with her children- her closely monitored childhood always present in her mind- but sees how Aang can be doting and allow their kids freedom. She follows by his example, trying to find a balance between hovering and absence. Aang's death is the worst day of her life- she was there, she felt his heart stop- and she retreats into the swamp for a while to grieve. But she returns to Republic City when Katara begins to mentor the new Avatar. Not to be outdone by Sugar Queen, she becomes Korra's second teacher. It's hard to be around Korra sometimes, but she likes the girl's spunk and attitude, even if she is a brat.

Zuko: Zuko struggles after the war. The obligations of the Fire Lord are crushing and daunting and the fear of turning into his father feels like it's constantly looming over his head. Mai doesn't understand why he's struggling so much and he can't figure out how to explain it to her, so they break up. She goes to Kyoshi Island to spend time with Ty Lee and figure out what she wants in life. Stressed, burnt-out, and heartbroken, Zuko asks Aang to kill him if he ever starts to act like Ozai, but Aang steadfastly refuses, berating him for even suggesting it. Aang assures him that he'll never turn into his father and that he has his friends to rely on. He follows after Aang to Ba Sing Se, working in his uncle's tea shop as a much needed break. He opens up to Iroh about his fears and Iroh affirms that even having these worries proves that he'll never be Ozai. He spends time in Ba Sing Se working in the tea shop and negotiating with the Earth King when he meets Jin again. She's as carefree as she was back then and Zuko is both envious and in awe of it. But he knows he can't have a relationship with her, he can't burden her with his problems. But Jin is gently persistent, lending an ear when he needs one and assuring him that he isn't burdening her. When she asks him if he wants to be with her, he confesses that he does- more than anything- but also admits that he has no idea how it'll work. She tells him that if they want to be together no one should stop them. A year later, they're married and she's crowned Fire Lady Jin. There are some protests to their relationship from traditionalists, but Ambassador Katara (Zuko is so sure that she was never actually given that title, but he can't prove it) is quick to shut them down citing that the Fire Lord marrying an Earth Kingdom girl is a sign of unity. They have their daughter, Izumi, and she's Zuko's entire world. Zuko's greatest fear is that his children will end up like him and Azula, so he refrains from having more kids. Jin respects this, but urges him to talk to Azula. So he does; his sister curses him out, but seems to enjoy his company in her own way. They'll never have a good relationship, but Zuko doesn't want her to feel alone so he makes time at least once a week. It's shortly after Aang's death that Zuko relinquishes the title of Fire Lord to Izumi, his grief over his lifetime friend far too painful. Eventually, though, Katara and Toph bully him into training the new Avatar. It's not a role for a retired Fire Lord, but Zuko knows that the world needs Korra to be strong and it's his responsibility to make that happen as much as he can. And so, he becomes Avatar Korra's third teacher (if you told him 60 years ago that he'd become the Avatar's most sane instructor, he'd think you were high on cactus juice. But with Katara punching dictators in the face and Toph breaking every rule ever written, someone has to be a good influence).

Occupations if you missed them:

Katara: (Unofficial/Self-proclaimed) Ambassador of the Southern Water Tribe, United Republic of Nations Councilwoman and later Chairwoman, Healer (on the side), Waterbending Master to the Avatar

Aang: Avatar, United Republic of Nations Councilman

Sokka: Engineer and Inventor, Chief of the Southern Water Tribe

Toph: Pro-Bender, Manager of the Pro-Bending Arena, Earthbending Master to the Avatar

Zuko: Fire Lord, Firebending Master to the Avatar

Suki: Police Chief of Republic City (I'm sorry I didn't make a detailed background for her I got lazy, I promise I don't love her any less😭)

Defending my ship choices:

Harutara: Come on, y'all know what I'm about at this point. They're my everything, how could I not have them together? Plus, there's something really poetic about Haru falling for her as an adult the way he did as a teenager: watching her inspire those around her. I headcanon that he's enamoured with the sound of her voice because it's the voice that liberated him and his people and he attends all her speeches

Taang: I actually wasn't sure about this one. I'm not an active Taang shipper, but I do think they'd really balance each other out. Toph is the hard ass Aang needs to challenge him and Aang would bring out the softer side in her. Toph would never let Aang favor one kid over the other and Aang wouldn't let Toph neglect their kids. So looking at it like that, I felt them being together would be best for the story

Sukka: It's not as perfect in canon as people make it out to be, but I still love them. I wouldn't want any different for them

Jinko: This one actually made more sense than I would have thought. Jin is very different from Mai, so I can really see her being what Zuko needs considering where he would be mentally. I like Mai, but I feel Maiko really made her way more one dimensional so her living with Ty Lee and finding herself feels like a better end for her (and if they start dating, that's no one's business). And we've already seen Zuko go out of his way to make Jin happy so it's not like we're getting another Kataang situation. I'm happy with this for them

The Kids:

Yes, I purposely made Kya an Earthbender. And yes, Katara still gives her her mother's necklace. Because that's her firstborn daughter no matter what element she does (or doesn't) bend. One thing I hate is that Bryke made the Kataang kids primarily part of the culture that they bend. That's such a slap in the face to biracial kids, not to mention poor Bumi who doesn't seem to belong to either for some reason until he ends up an Airbender. So yeah, all of the Harutara kids are part of the EK and SWT. Suma is a name I made up because it sounded pretty

I know it's weird to think of Lin and Tenzin as siblings, I felt so odd writing it. But I love them both so I couldn't just not write them. I made Bumi the youngest so he could be spoiled because he deserved better in canon. Su and Lin have a better relationship, but they still butt heads because they feel the need to one-up each other due to them both being Earthbenders (and later Metalbenders). Lin still becomes a cop, but their big fight never happened because Su was never neglected to the point of becoming a criminal. All four kids are taught Air Nomad culture and traditions and taken on trips because Aang is a decent father

I named Lian partly after Yue, since Yuèliàng means moon in Chinese. One of my gripes with LOK is that Katara and Sokka's family are meant to be the leaders of the SWT. Kya or Bumi should be the chief in canon, but Bryke just... Didn't do that for some reason. So fuck it, Sokka's daughter is chief now

Nothing really changes about Izumi, although I'd say she's a little friendlier. I contemplated giving Zuko more kids, but I actually think his decision not to have more kids was one of Bryke's better choices. It makes sense, so I didn't feel the need to change it

Other notes:

The Gaang teaching/helping raise baby Korra is something I live for

The Red Lotus is swiftly dealt with by Katara, Toph, Zuko, Suki, and Sokka when Korra is a kid. They never stood a chance. I was actually going to have Sokka still die during the attack in the SWT and Suki kill Zaheer in revenge, but eh I decided not to off Sokka

The Civil War still happens, but differently. I don't have the patience to go into that, just know that Katara is HEAVILY involved

Welp, that's everything in my brain

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xtaketwox · 1 day

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Summary: Everyone is born with an arrow on their hand that points toward their soulmate on their eighteenth birthday. When Lucien comes to find Elain after the arrow on her hand led Graysen to dump her on her birthday, she tells him to leave and not contact her again. Nine years later, their paths cross once more and Lucien makes it his mission to woo Elain.

Fic Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Chapter Length: 3772 words

Masterlist; Read on AO3

Chapter 4

Well, fuck.

Lucien watched Elain walk to her car feeling like the biggest asshole, despite the circumstances being completely out of his control. He could hardly be blamed for his parents’ wealth, but neither could he blame her for holding some resentment for those with money when by the sounds of it, she had struggled throughout most of her life.

As an adult, he had seen enough suffering to know that while wealth wasn’t everything, it also wasn’t nothing. He was lucky to be an ambassador to a wealthy country now, but in his travels he had seen enough poverty and sickness to keep him humble for the rest of his life. After the first time he had been faced with the terrible truth that people suffered through starvation and poverty, he had promptly begun donating a sizeable chunk of his money every year to reputable charities. He may have his own traumas from growing up in Beron’s household, but starvation and lack wasn’t one of them.

He felt like an ass after listening to Elain discuss her struggles. He felt a bit humiliated by what she must think of him, knowing he had been so reckless and spoiled in his younger years, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had fucked the whole thing up by being so open about his past.

Lucien scrubbed his face, and then drained the rest of his coffee and got into his car to head back to his apartment, ruminating on all the things he’d learned about Elain. He couldn’t just let things end there, not when finally, after nine years, he gotten her to talk to him.

Clearly she had led a difficult life, and there was still the matter of what caused her to reject him in the first place, but perhaps he could woo her. He made his living turning tense situations around, surely he could do the same with his soulmate. He would just have to be careful with how he approached the situation if he had any hope of succeeding.

Lucien opened the door to his penthouse and winced as he stepped inside. Owning a penthouse, even if it wasn’t top floor, while only living in it for a few weeks a year certainly wasn’t going to convince Elain he was a normal guy. But then again, he supposed he wasn’t a normal guy so maybe it was best he didn’t pretend otherwise. He just needed to show Elain that it didn’t mean anything. She likely thought they have nothing in common, so he was going to have to show her that they were compatible.

Lucien walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine before heading to drop onto his couch to contemplate ways to woo Elain, to show her that he was worth her time, that he wasn’t just another spoiled rich man who didn’t understand the struggles of those less fortunate. Of course, he didn’t have first hand experience, but that didn’t mean he was entirely clueless.

He wanted to know more about Elain’s history, and briefly considered enlisting the help of Azriel—that man could find out information like nobody’s business—but quickly dismissed the idea. Elain wasn’t likely to enjoy him prying into her life like that, and honestly he didn’t find the idea all that appealing either. He wanted to get to know Elain the old-fashioned way. Maybe he could do the normal thing and google her socials, see what he could find that way.

A couple hours later, his answer to that was nothing. Elain had almost no social media accounts, and those she did have were either private or filled with pictures of flowers. He sighed, setting down his fifth glass of wine. He supposed that’s what he got for trying to snoop.

Lucien stared at his phone, wondering if he should text her or wait for a couple days. He itched to send an apology to her, although he wasn’t sure what to apologize for. Sorry I grew up rich seemed about as good an idea as texting I’m sorry to hear you were poor. He winced at the thought and immediately berated himself as an asshole for even thinking it.

He groaned, his head falling back against the couch. He was an asshole though. Instead of trying to think of ways to woo Elain, he had just spent several hours thinking about the wealth gap between them and trying to find an easy way to get to her. He needed to get his shit together because he’d be damned if he let Elain slip through his fingers again. If he was going to be relegated to a life alone, then he at least wanted to get to know more about his soulmate first.

There were certainly plenty of other obstacles that would make a relationship difficult if Elain ever did decide to give him a chance. He had been conveniently ignoring the fact that he lived out of the country for most of the year while Elain was firmly rooted in this country. He couldn’t exactly ask her to give up her flower shop to come be decoration on his arm while he did his job.

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d think about that later. One step at a time, and step one was to get another date with Elain. A real date this time, not just coffee. He didn’t think she’d agree to something obviously romantic such as dinner, so he was going to have to be a little sneakier than that. He pulled his phone back up and typed into google. He sat up when he came across the botanical gardens.

Perfect.

*****

Elain’s anxiety was only growing stronger the longer she went without hearing from Lucien. She almost felt as if she needed to apologize. She knew next to nothing about him, and the fact he grew up wealthy wasn’t exactly his fault. But she didn’t apologize, because that also sounded ridiculous. Sorry I’m jealous of your childhood. And what was there to be jealous of really? So he had grown up wealthy. It didn’t sound as if his childhood were any better than hers, and might have even been worse.

She blinked quickly, shaking her head to get out of her own mind and back to arranging flowers. Money was such a terrible thing to be hung up on. But it also wasn’t nothing. Lucien may have had a terrible childhood, but could he relate to her at all when he had had most things handed to him? He had earned his position as ambassador, but he wouldn’t have had the chance to earn it if not for Helion.

Elain sighed. She needed to stop thinking about this. It didn’t really matter anyway. Even if she wanted to pursue a relationship with Lucien, and she reminded herself that she didn’t, he was out of the country for all but a few weeks a year. It would never work. She had worked too hard to get where she was now and she couldn’t just give it up, nor did she want to spend months at a time without her significant other.

That was that really. No matter whether she and Lucien were compatible, it would never work because his job took him out of the country and her business kept her here. The wealth gap between them was a moot point.

Decision made, she tied a bow around the vase of flowers and then took it to the shelf with the other orders awaiting pickup. She smiled as she looked at the arrangements. No, she wouldn’t want to give this up. She loved her job, loved that her former employers had been willing to sell the business to her for a reasonable price, and loved that she was the master of her own life, even if the house she lived in felt incredibly lonely now that she lived by herself.

Perhaps she should sell it. Except that thought left her with a bubble of sadness in her throat. It was the last piece of their father and mother that they had, and even if she did sell it, it wasn’t just hers. Their father had left the house to all of them, although when he had had the money and mental wherewithal to speak to a lawyer, she had no idea. It couldn’t have been too long after their mother’s passing, because his mental decline had only gotten worse each year until his passing.

Elain went back over to her work bench and picked up her phone to check the time and was surprised to see she had a text from Lucien. She had been so busy with her arrangements, that she hadn’t thought to check her phone for hours, and his text had come through over two hours prior.

I just wanted to drop a quick text to apologize for putting my foot in my mouth the other day. I’ve been thinking a lot since our coffee date and I can see why you’d be upset, perhaps even think we’re not compatible. However, I would still love to get to know more about you, if you’re willing. I have never been to the botanical gardens and wondered if you’d want to go with me while I’m in town.

Elain stared down at the lengthy text, her eyes snagging on the word date. She swallowed, shaking her head and forcing herself to finish the text. Lucien wanted to go to the botanical gardens with her? She chuckled as she stared at the text, reading it over and over. He was good, hitting her right in her Achilles heel. The botanical gardens was one of her favorite places to go.

She bit her lip, trying to decide how to respond. It would be smarter to turn down the offer, given he was still leaving in a few weeks and she wouldn’t be free until this next Monday, which meant even less time until he left. She wasn’t so unware as to not realize she had abandonment issues. Her mother had not left by choice, of course, but it didn’t negate the fact she was gone, as was her father. Even Nesta had left her, although her sister had since apologized for that, speaking with Elain after the wedding. And although Elain was happy for Feyre, she had left her too. Everyone around her was moving forward in life and leaving her behind.

Elain typed out a message declining Lucien’s offer, but her finger hovered over the send button, something stopping her. She stared at the letters on her screen as the desire to delete them grew. She had spent so much of her life being practical, despite it not being her choice. If she had had a choice, she would have been a typical teenager, attending parties instead of work, getting drunk with friends at college while earning a degree in botany instead of working at a flower shop for hardly more than minimum wage. Even Lucien technically represented a lack of choice. She would have chosen Graysen, even if she was glad now that he had shown his true colors. What she had mistaken for love had been possessiveness. But that didn’t negate the fact that Lucien had been forced on her, had not been her choice.

But maybe she could stop being practical, could decide for herself what she really wanted. She would never use Lucien, not really, but perhaps she could still have fun. She was only twenty-seven and hadn’t had a boyfriend since she was eighteen. If he was leaving in a few weeks, what was the harm in at least pretending she was young and carefree?

Elain deleted the message and typed out another.

That sounds lovely. The botanical gardens is one of my favorite places and would love to show you around. I won’t be free until Monday. I hope that works.

She exhaled when she hit send, biting her lip and staring at her screen. When several minutes passed and nothing came through, she put the phone in her pocket and sighed at herself for expecting an immediate response, walking to the front of the store to relieve her morning employee and take her place behind the register for the rest of the day.

Elain had just finished helping a client with their order when she felt a buzz in her pocket. She grabbed her phone and smiled without realizing it when she saw a text from Lucien.

Monday is perfect. See you then.

*****

Lucien smiled at his phone screen. Elain’s message had been short, but relief had hit him like a ton of bricks when she had finally texted back and agreed to their date. He loved that the botanical gardens were her favorite place. Perhaps they could keep a conversation going without the need to reveal such personal information. If he could get her to see that the differences between them weren’t insurmountable, he might just stand a chance.

The only problem, of course, was that he was going to have to wait until Monday to see her. It was only Wednesday and Monday felt too far off. He sat back on his couch and narrowed his eyes in thought. There had to be a way for him to see her sooner than that.

He smirked as an idea formed.

*****

The next afternoon, Lucien opened the door to the flower shop. He hardly noticed the flowers, his eyes immediately going to Elain behind the register. He couldn’t have kept the smile off his face if he wanted to. She looked gorgeous. She had her hair swept back into a ponytail, but after hours of work, she had an array of softly curling tendrils falling around her face and her cheeks were flushed. Her adorable mouth popped open when she saw him.

“Lucien?”

He forced himself to be calm as he sauntered up to the counter. Thankfully she had no other customers at the moment, although he certainly hoped that wasn’t the usual case, for the sake of her business.

“I heard this was the best place to purchase a flower arrangement.”

Elain’s mouth curved up for a moment before she seemed to school her expression, squaring her shoulders. “Oh? Where did you hear this?”

“Feyre told me.”

Elain hummed. “So, you’d like an arrangement?”

Lucien nodded. “Yes, but I can’t decide which flowers to pick. Perhaps you could help me?”

A mask of professionalism fell onto Elain’s face as she realized he was here to purchase flowers. “Of course. Do you know what sort of arrangement you want?”

Lucien shook his head. “What do you offer?”

Elain pulled out a book, showing him a variety of arrangements. He smiled to himself as he chose the largest size. “I think this one will be perfect.”

Elain nodded. “Ok, then next we can pick flowers.”

Lucien nodded, a finger tapping his chin as he pretended to think. “Which ones do you think would look best?”

Elain thought for a moment. “Well, it depends on the occasion, I suppose or the person you’re giving it to, as well as how much you would like to spend. Flowers such as carnations and baby’s breath are good fillers if you’d like to prevent the arrangement from exceeding your budget. Roses are of course always a good bet, and are not too expensive this time of year. If you’re looking to jazz up the look, dahlias or lilies are a good choice. Just be warned that lilies are toxic to some pets like cats, so if there will be cats around, I would suggest avoiding them.”

Lucien watched Elain describe flowers, so clearly in her element, and something fluttered in his chest. There was nothing sexier than someone talking about the things they loved and Elain clearly loved her job. Her entire face was lit with excitement as she described the different ways she could do the arrangement based on whatever his budget was. He had to mentally shake himself several times to pay attention so he didn’t get lost in her bright eyes or the luscious lips that he suddenly had a very strong desire to kiss.

When he realized Elain had stopped talking, Lucien cleared his throat, trying to recall what she had said and feeling stupid that he had been too focused on her lips to listen to what her. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands, I think. Pick whatever you think would look best.” He told her how much he wanted to spend, which was really a lie. He would have bought the most expensive arrangement of flowers possible if he didn’t think it would work against him.

“Would you like to pick it up or have it delivered? We can do either as early as tomorrow.”

Lucien pretended to think. “I think I’ll come by tomorrow and pick them up myself.”

Elain smiled. “Wonderful. They should be ready by ten, so feel free to come any time after that. Or I can contact you after the arrangement is complete, whichever works best for you.”

Lucien swallowed hard at Elain’s smile, the way it lit up her face. Focus. He needed to focus. “I can come by after ten.”

Elain nodded, and Lucien exhaled slowly as she bent her head to write something down. After running his credit card, Elain handed it back to him and he waved goodbye.

When he exited the little shop, he inhaled deeply and then exhaled, trying to slow his racing heart. Was it the soulmate bond between them that was causing this? He had had girlfriends in the past, prior to the arrow on his hand suddenly pointing in Elain’s direction one day, but never had he felt like his heart was about to fly out of his chest when one of them smiled at him.

Even if it was the soulmate bond, he couldn’t say he minded. He was beginning to think that life without Elain was a half-life.

*****

Elain was just finishing up the last touches on the last arrangement for the day when Mandy, her employee currently watching the front, yelled back, “Elain, there’s someone here to see you.”

Elain finished tying a bow and then removed her apron and hung it up before walking to the front. She immediately smiled when she saw Lucien at the front waiting for her. Her heart skipped a beat or two when he returned her smile. “Hello. Are you here to pick up your arrangement?”

Lucien nodded. “I hope I’m not too early.”

Elain glanced at the clock on the wall and noted it was ten o’clock sharp. “Nope. I just finished the last of the arrangements. Let me get yours.”

Lucien nodded as she turned to head back into the back room. She had gone a little crazy with the arrangement, trying to keep in mind Lucien’s budget, but thoroughly enjoying being able to pick all the flowers herself. It was a beautiful arrangement, that was for sure, perhaps one of her best. All her favorite flowers were in there in every color she could cram into a single display. Perhaps some people would find the bright slash of colors garish, but she loved it. She could only hope that Lucien did as well.

When she brought the arrangement out, Lucien smiled broadly. She set the vase on the counter, nearly taking up the entire space as the flowers spilled out of the top. Elain stepped to the side so she could see him, clasping her fingers together in apprehension. “I hope this is what you were looking for. I went a little wild with all the different colors, but these are some of my favorites, and I made sure to stick within your budget, which is why there are so many of these.” She clamped her mouth shut when she realized she was rambling, watching as Lucien considered the arrangement.

Nodding, he turned to her. “These are perfect, thank you.” He picked up the flowers, turning the vase around to see the back and then nodded again and held them out to her. “These are for you.”

Elain’s mouth popped open as Mandy chuckled by the register. “What?”

Lucien held the flowers in front of him as Elain gaped at him, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, I could hardly go get flowers from another shop to give to you, could I?”

When Elain continued to gape at him, Mandy lightly shoved Elain’s shoulder, shaking her out of her shock. “You bought these for me?” she asked slowly, her mind feeling slower than molasses.

Lucien’s cheeks turned pink as he continued to hold the flowers out. “I figured working in a flower shop, you probably don’t get a lot of flowers yourself. I thought maybe you’d like some.”

“For pete’s sake, Elain, take the flowers,” Mandy said.

Elain reached out to take the vase back, staring at an arrangement filled with all her favorite flowers. Sure she had made it herself, but also, it had been so fun to have creative liberty that it hardly registered that she had essentially given herself flowers.

“They’re beautiful,” she said in a daze.

Lucien chuckled. “Of course they are. You picked all the flowers yourself.”

Elain eyed him and noticed the mischievous glint in his eyes. “This doesn’t exactly count as giving me flowers, you know.”

Lucien shrugged. “Like I said, I couldn’t exactly get flowers from your competitor.”

“I’ll be right back,” Elain said, heading toward the back room where she could set the flowers down and out of the way. She couldn’t help smiling as she stared at them, and she had to admit it was a clever way to buy her flowers. Walking back to the front, she found Lucien casually leaning against the counter and her eyes nearly went wide at how sexy the pose looked. She just barely school her expression as she nodded and smiled gently at him. “Thank you for the flowers. It was very thoughtful.”

Lucien smiled back. “I’ll see you Monday then?”

Elain bit her lip against the fluttering in her chest at that smile. “See you Monday.”

As he walked out the door, Elain couldn’t stop staring. He was certainly a sly one. Instead of waiting until Monday, he had managed to see her for two days this week. She would have to keep her eye on him. He was likely to win her over without her even realizing what he was doing.

And she was wondering now if she even minded.

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