#I hate him an unreasonable amount

[coolskeleton15]

I want this twink OBLITERATED.

[ur-local-kiwi]

hear me out,,,,, tobirei human x werewolf au. but not in the "uwu hes my forbidden alpha mate 😳😖😍" type way. instead its more like the "half-human tobi constantly brings bloody half-dead animals to rei's door to try and impress him because he doesnt know how to express emotions like a human while rei is both disgusted and mildly into it for some reason"

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i’m literally devastated

[the-unofficial-village-idiot]

"We need more complex female characters who stand up to men" you guys couldn't even handle skyler white

[parfaitblogs]

guess ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer really likes changing the way in which he wakes you up. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: soft dom!spencer. oral (f receiving). spencer bought the underwear r is reading (it's described). very brief nipple stuff bc i hate writing that word xoxo. healthy sex discussion midway through!! communication yippee!! desired somnophilia (it doesn't actually happen). fingering. spencer's a little shit (who's surprised). not proofread!  word count: 2.5k a/n: the lacy black pair with the little bows 💃💃 the ones i picked out for you in tokyo 💃💃💃imagining s13 spencer specifically in that episode he has his firearms exam. u know the one mhm mhm! 

You were indescribably pretty, in Spencer Reid's very professional opinion.

In every form. Even your sickest, most disgusting form — according to you — when you had gastroenteritis that one time after being away on holiday. You were pretty when you dressed up for a date with him or drinks with your friends. When you had just gotten out of the shower and had wet hair and were wearing your pyjamas (either being a matching set or one of his stolen t-shirts). And, his most recent obsession; while you were sleeping. 

Which might be sick in some way shape or form. How much he liked watching you while you slept. The rise and fall of your chest, the blankets bunched up and falling just below your hips — showing the skin of your legs, because the weather was warm and Spencer's apartment was always warmer. 

Yes, it probably is sick. But it's not like he did anything about it. In fact, he usually just watched you until the clock ticked to a time he deemed unreasonable to still be in bed, and he got up and went on about his day (thinking about you the entire time, of course). 

But it was a Sunday, and you had made him promise to be there when you woke up that morning; too sick of finding him out in the kitchen already showered and making food. When all you wanted was to lie in bed for — at least — an hour with him before your days began. 

Your rule was probably the only reason Spencer's mind wandered away from their usual thoughts about you in the morning. But he also wanted to blame it on the fact that your hair was freshly washed and his sheets now smelled of your shampoo, and your legs brushed against his own so many times he thought you might be awake already. 

You were just so, so pretty. And his shirt on you had risen just the right amount, your stomach peeking through, and really, Spencer should not be held accountable for any of his actions that morning. He was but a man, at the end of the day. 

Despite everything he wanted to do to you, he was still a gentleman, and this was a boundary of consent you were yet to cross together. Hence; the arm snaking around your waist, pulling you into him, and the kisses he had begun leaving along your cheek, jawline and neck, hoping to coax you awake, gently. 

Hope that had been answered, because he heard you groan quietly beneath him — the sound, embarrassingly so, shooting straight to the pit of his stomach like he was a teenager. But you were awake. 

"Good morning to you too," you had murmured, voice riddled with morning husk and a layer of exhaustion no doubt still there. 

"Morning, honey," he answered, lifting his face from your neck to your own face, lips twitching a little as you blinked your eyes open. He was quick with it, connecting his lips to yours and eliciting a quiet squeak from you, which simply had him smiling. 

"I have morning breath," you said, though both of you knew he could not care less. He never did, which was almost laughable for a man with such a big phobia of germs. 

"I'll need to brush my teeth after this too, anyways," he had replied, and your stomach flipped in the best way possible. 

"What's this?" 

"Hopefully," he began, placing one last peck to the corner of your mouth, before he shifted your bodies enough so he could trail kisses down to your peeking collarbone. "You'll like it."

"Promise?" you asked him as he hooked fingers beneath his t-shirt, eyes searching yours for approval, before he pushed it up and over your chest.

"Promise," he said with a confirming hum, trailing kisses down your sternum, before kissing back up and taking a nipple into his mouth. 

He decided he liked you like this; still waking up, too out of it to properly silence yourself the way he knew you would if you were in any fully conscious state of mind. It was arguably his least favourite trait of yours — how much you hid when all he wanted was to hear every little noise you made (a thought that shocked him too, the first time he thought it). 

But your back arched and barely functioning limbs pressed down against the mattress when you mewled, and it was beautiful and he was repeating the motion of his tongue flicking over your nipple once, then twice, just to hear it again. 

He smiled at your breathless whimper of his name when he detached his mouth, a hand dropping to your hip and rubbing gentle circles into it. 

"So impatient when you're tired," he murmured, almost scoldingly, gaze flickering up to catch your expression. Not that there was much to look at — you were watching him through half-shut eyelids, lips pulled into a content smile. He moved his head to take the other nipple into his mouth. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and so he comforted the other (now neglected) peak with his thumb. 

But, he was a man on a mission. And so despite how much he wanted to tease you, he had other, far more exciting plans for you. 

Lips kissed down your stomach, stubble scratching delicately at your skin, making you squirm and evoking a hum from Spencer, who glanced up at you with an arched brow. 

"Stubble," you explained, almost breathlessly, and his lips pulled into a smile in acknowledgement. Which was sweet. 

What wasn't sweet was the way he grasped your hips between his hands and pushed them into the mattress and said, in his (incredibly arousing) low voice, "Need you to keep still for me."

"You don't want my hips punching you in the face?" you asked. He laughed at that — it had happened one time. 

"If I can help it, no," he punctuated his sentence with his fingers squeezing your left hip, and you only hummed in response. Then, "Aren't these the ones I bought for you?"

You looked down, and his fingers were hooked under the waistband of your underwear, black bows resting on either side and flipped up on his fingers. 

"Uh... yeah. I must've put them on by mistake last night," you told him, and his eyebrows only rose. "What?"

"By mistake?" he mused, one of his hands letting go of the waistband to trace his knuckle across the top and down over the centre of them, eliciting a shudder out of your lips. 

"I haven't done laundry?" you offered your second excuse. His bewilderment only deepened and he pulled his hand away from you.

"You wanna tell me the truth?"

Damn him. "Okay, so, I was planning on trying to do something with you last night. I did an everything shower and everything," very complex sentences you were creating, clearly. "But then I fell asleep."

"I see," he said, and amusement crossed his features. 

"I wear them all the time!" you protested. "They're comfortable. Also they're really pretty. You would know if you tried to have sex with me more often."

He laughed, only because he could see the faux pout on your lips, and he knew you weren't serious. "I already have sex with you a lot."

"Twice a week isn't a lot."

"I'd argue it is," he said, placing a kiss to the inner side of your thigh — the recognition of what position you two were in whilst having this conversation being somewhat jarring, but mostly humorous. "Do you want me to have sex with you more often?"

"If I say yes, will you?"

"I'll do whatever you want me to," he answered, hair tickling your skin as he tilted his head to the side, resting it on your thigh. 

"Then yes," you breathed out. 

"Okay," he nodded his head, picking it back up to refocus on his task at hand. "Can I take this underwear that you apparently wear all the time off now?"

"Yeah."

Even in the warmth of his apartment, you shivered when he tugged the black lace down — with some resistance he no doubt expected, but still reacted to with a barely audible hiss. You smiled at that.

"So pretty," he murmured, like it was the first time he was ever seeing you. 

He met your eyes one last time, and you watched that stupidly gorgeous smile stretch across his lips, before he was leaning forwards and licking a stripe down the centre, eliciting a breathy whine from your lips. 

He was painfully good at this — a fact that popped into your head every single time he had his mouth on you. You wondered if he was simply born with the knowledge of your body already catalogued in his brain, because even the first time he ate you out, you were immobile for thirty minutes (though, he did make you come four times at once, so maybe it was that). 

"Angel," you felt a nip on your thigh, and your head snapped down, eyebrows furrowing when you met Spencer's gaze. "Focus on me."

"I am," you huffed in response.

"Really?"

In theory, yes. You were thinking about him. Just a distant, past him. 

"Am I boring you already?" 

"Maybe. You might wanna speed up," you replied, always taking the opportunity to have some form of attitude towards him. 

"I miss when you were half-asleep," he sighed, but he gave you what you wanted regardless. 

Lips attached to your clit and his tongue flicked over it, and any retort you had died on your tongue. He liked to shut you up this way, it seemed. Hands that were still holding your hips pushed you into the mattress instinctively, having premeditated the bucking of them. A whimper escaped you when he sucked, head pressing down into the pillow beneath it, and you could feel the muscles of his face move as he smiled against you. 

He always ate you out like he was starved, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was. He was almost pathetically down bad for you when he was horny, though, and even if you were promising him pleasure, his mouth would find its way to you no matter what. Something about being a service dom or whatever. He had told you about it one time while he was knuckle deep in you, and you clearly didn't retain much in that state. 

"Oh," you breathed out when he dropped his head lower, his tongue circling your entrance, nose bumping your clit. 

You could feel his eyes on you when he flattened his tongue, watching every micro expression you made. 

Now, Spencer Reid was never smug about his knowledge. All those memories and his ability to quote just about anything at the drop of a hat and he never bragged about it. But knowing you? That he could brag about for hours and then some. Because truly, he knew you.

He knew he could make you come just like this; obscenely eating you out. In fact, it was quite easy to. But he found no fun in giving you what you were expecting. It was the only reason he was returning his lips to your clit, a hand dropping down from your hip, sliding over the skin of your thigh, before brushing through your folds, teasingly. 

"Spencer."

He repeated your name in the same whiny tone of voice as your own, mockingly so, and if you weren't so hellbent on reaching an orgasm, you probably would've kicked him.

A finger pushed into you embarrassingly easily, and you moaned, louder than you had yet that morning, which he knew. 

Indecent sounds left your lips continuously, and you eventually stopped fighting them. Much to his satisfaction, clearly, because he had curled his finger in just the right way at the same time he sucked on your clit and you were crying out and hands that had otherwise been heavy on the mattress were flying to his hair. 

You felt and heard him laugh at your reaction, only for him to do it again before you could argue. 

"Fuck, Spencer." 

"I know," he said, lifting his eyes back up to meet yours, twisting his finger and flicking his tongue over your clit. "Taste so good, angel. Could stay here for hours, you know?" You did know. He probably would, unless you had a mass protest to hold. 

"Please," you gasped out, pathetically so.

"Please what?" he mused. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but he chose that exact moment to push another finger into you, cutting any sentences you had off with a moan. 

"You've gotta use your words, sweet girl." You shot a glare at him, and he barked out a laugh. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

He was sorry, because he resumed his ministrations without so much of a delay, both fingers pushing in and out of you, filling the air with vulgar wet sounds to accompany your gasps and moans. 

You moaned his name again, and he mumbled another gentle, "Yeah?"

"Wanna come," you said.

"I know," he said, voice oh so soft, juxtaposing his every action. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling," you replied, almost huffily, and he laughed, increasing the pace of his fingers only slightly. 

"You don't wanna ask me?"

"Do I need to?"

"Maybe you should start."

"Spencer."

He laughed again, and you felt him nod his head against you. "Okay, okay. Making you come. Relax, sweet girl."

Arguably, you were the most relaxed you could possibly be. But you no longer had enough fight in you to argue, because he was rutting the tips of his fingers up against that spot inside you, and his tongue was moving faster, and you were gone; seeing stars. 

Maybe one thing he loved more than eating you out, was making you orgasm from eating you out. The way your fingers that almost always ended up in his hair scratched at his scalp, your thighs clenching around his head just enough that he had an excuse to pin them open, your voice going breathless and high-pitched. He had watched and felt it happen so many times it was burned into his memory, and yet he was still in awe of you regardless. 

Coaxing you through it and teetering on the edge of overstimulation was another bonus, because your breathless moans turned into whines and you always, always tried to escape him, and he got to remind you how much stronger he was, arms hooking under your thighs and tugging you closer. 

"Spencer," you whimpered. "No more. Please."

That was his cue to stop, and he pulled back, lips upturned in a lovesick grin as he looked up at you, face glistening. 

He pecked up your body until he had reached your face, and then he was kissing you again, regardless of the remnants of your release covering his skin. 

"Did so good. You're always so perfect for me, sweet girl," he murmured against your lips, swallowing your quiet whines. 

"Love you," you managed to mumble out, and he smiled against the cheek he was now kissing. 

"Love you too."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[tadpolesonalgae]

Bloodlust.[*]

Azriel x reader

a/n: thank you, anon <3, I had a lot of fun writing this 😌

warnings: smut, spitting, hate-sex, slight power imbalance?

word count: 4,170

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Where’s your report?”

“I thought you were doing it.”

The look Azriel gives you is filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his classical features twist into an expression of silent hatred.

“You have thirty minutes to get it written up and on my desk,” he says shortly, words icy and clipped in the exact way that has irritation scratching at the back of your mind. “That’s completely unreasonable,” you reply bluntly. “Besides,” you say, holding his dark gaze, “I thought you were my superior. I was just there to offer assistance, so there’s no need for me to submit a formal report.”

“My desk. Half an hour,” he repeats coldly, his tone blunt and unforgiving. “Not a minute later.”

Then he turns, closing the door with enough force it creates a distinct hissing noise on the way shut, leaving you to struggle with the deadline.

————

Twenty-nine minutes later you deliver three forceful knocks to his door, blood hot as it boils in your veins, report still stuck to your clipboard which is in turn tucked beneath your arm.

“Enter,” he calls, and a muscle in your jaw ticks at the tone. Curt and demanding. Still, you step inside, allowing the door to click shut, dropping the clipboard on his desk on top of a file he was writing in, hopefully smudging the ink as the board clatters upon the surface. “Good enough?” You nearly spit, but manage to tone down the venom just enough.

Thunder claps from outside as your eyes meet, and he picks the report up, leaning back in his chair as he begins to read through the hurried scrawl. You bite down a snappy remark, hands clasped behind your back in proper fashion as you’re forced to wait for him to complete his review. You get the distinct impression he’s taking his time.

His dark eyes pause a third of the way down the page, brows narrowing before dragging his gaze to yours. “The disposal was rushed and excessively violent. Diplomacy would have been preferable, and much more suitable?” He reads aloud, voice rough and gravelly with barely restrained ire.

“You asked for my report,” you counter lowly, unable to help the disagreeable twist of your features as you glare at him. “Diplomacy did not guarantee the mission’s success. It would have been a waste of time,” he replies.

“That’s just like you to rush into violence,” you hiss, nails digging into the skin of your wrist with the amount of restraint you’re using to keep from doing something you’ll regret. “You resort to slaughter at the slightest inconvenience,” you seethe, nails piercing the skin. “Fucking Illyrian,” you spit.

Ire blazes behind his eyes, reflecting the hatred burning in your own gaze.

Not breaking eye-contact, he reaches for a blank sheet of paper and places it before him on the desk, jabbing his finger once down atop the page. “Rewrite it. Now.”

A startled laugh barks from your throat as you stare at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“I won’t repeat myself.”

You stare at him longer, furious indignation boiling your blood, able to feel as your temper begins to bubble over with blatant provocation. “You’re a spiteful piece of shit,” you seethe lowly but he doesn’t buckle beneath your rage. You wouldn’t hate him as much as you do if you could so easily get the better of him. “You just want me to write a report in your favour. You can’t stand that you might have made the wrong call.”

“It was the right call,” he replies harshly, a hiss in his voice, “your lack of experience is limiting your understanding. I knew you weren’t fit for this mission—I’ll have you moved to a more suitable position.”

“You’re the one in the wrong position,” you spit, stalking forward so you’re right before his desk. “You’re too prone to excessive violence. You needlessly took a life that could have been saved. It would have been of no consequence to us if he lived.”

“His existence would have only perpetuated the problem,” Azriel repeats lowly, his own temper beginning to show as he stands from his desk, palms flattening across its surface as he leans forward. “Purge from the roots, or it will only return. Now write the report.”

Gritting your teeth any tighter would have surely caused one to crack beneath the pressure, and you can perfectly imagine how it would feel to launch yourself across the desk and wrap your hands around his throat. To squeeze until he’s thrashing beneath you, that indomitable figure writhing beneath you as you begin to pry the life from his body…to set him alight and watch him scream.

You ease out a breath, soothed by the surprisingly violent imagery. You aren’t one to generally resort to that kind of solution, but with him it seems almost irresistible…the call of violence, how good it would feel to watch blood bead on his skin.

Frustration slightly abated, you drag the paper from beneath his hold. “Give me the clipboard.”

“You’ll complete it here, where I can see you,” he replies icily.

“Fine. Give me the clipboard,” you bite out, rage already rising again.

“You don’t need it. You’ll write it here,” he says, gesturing to the desk.

A tinge of red creeps into your vision, and it takes all your discipline not to reach for the blades tucked beneath your clothes. Stiff with rage, you drag the paper to the side of his desk, walking around to his side as you take a pen from the pot, making a point of reaching through his personal space. Then, as you’re retracting, you decide you’ve had enough of restraining yourself. “Illyrian scum,” you hiss out, gaze piercing into him as your hand tightens around the pen, clutching it as though it were a blade.

His pupils narrow into slits and his fingers crush at the soft skin of your throat. Your entire body contracts beneath the brutal touch, the tip of steel already poised to slice into leather and cut through his blackened heart. Stalemate.

“You’re a fucking piece of work,” he snarls out gutturally, expression twisted into picturesque wrath, ignoring the stinging pain as you slide the blade deeper, sharp enough to pierce the leather with ease, poised to cut into flesh. He seems to remember himself, hold lightening only marginally…enough you have to pull back on the blade or else he’ll be justified in his hostility.

“Infighting is forbidden,” you manage to get out, making sure to keep the steel close enough to his flesh he knows you won’t hesitate anymore. “You broke a rule, Spymaster.”

“And what will you do?” He asks, cruel mirth glittering in his dark hazel eyes. “Will you try for diplomacy now?” He hisses, squeezing the sides of your throat painfully.

“Why would I bother with a brute?” You rasp back, neither of you bothering to conceal the venom in your voices. “Clear aggression is the only language you’ll understand, so I’ll just have to act in a way that’ll get through that thick skull of yours.”

“Brandishing a weapon against me is enough to have you permanently removed from your position,” he hisses down at you.

“Fine,” you breathe, coming to the same conclusion as he has for the expulsion of rage that’s been building up inside of you. “Hand-to-hand combat it is.”

His hand releases your throat at the same time the blade falls from your fingertips, his grip sliding to the nape of your neck as your arms snake over his shoulders, nails raking through his hair as you’re magnetically snatched against one another, hardly a breath of air to be found between your bodies as you’re crushed against one another. Teeth flash as canines scrape, but his fingers dig into the tendon at your neck, forcing you to seize as he pries you apart with his tongue and mouth. Your lip curls in a snarl as he pushes into you, able to see how his wings have instinctively flared at his back, shadows writhing and deepening with unsuppressed fury.

Without giving him a chance to defend your arms surge further down his back, nails brandished as they scratch across the intimate skin of his wings, slicing the leathery surface jaggedly. He recoils, a vicious snarl cutting through the room that has satisfaction blazing across your chest. Rage bleeds across his features and his hand returns to your throat, shoving you down onto his desk, papers flying as ink spills across the surface, pens clattering as they drop to the floor. Your hands fly to his wrist, scratching at his scarred knuckles but his mouth has already descended over yours again and you move to grip at his hair, silky and soft beneath your violent touch. Heat swarms your skin as his shadows pin you down, writhing pleasantly across your body in a way that has your insides fluttering.

Azriel again pries your lips apart, tongue sweeping in as his mouth slants invasively over your own, flicking and stroking while his fingers hold your jaw in a vice-like grip. A strange feeling skitters beneath your skin, and you wrap your legs around his hips, minimising the space between your bodies as he presses flush against your centre.

You can feel him.

Oh Gods, you can feel him completely.

Your mouth parts as you push against him, tongue sweeping across his own, the kisses hot and wet as each of you refuse to lighten your grip on the other and your thighs squeeze him closer, determined you won’t be losing this battle.

Azriel pulls away abruptly, and you look up at him, watching keenly for any move he’ll make, aware what kind of beast you’re taunting. “Keep still,” he commands roughly, voice like gravel as his shadows swarm your body, and you snarl as the hand that was pinning your throat to the desk drops to the hem of your shirt. Before you have a chance to counter he’s lowered to your neck, hair having fallen back onto the surface so he has plenty of room as his shadows shove your face to the side.

You inhale sharply as his teeth graze the sensitive expanse, grip tugging on his hair to get him closer, eager to have him working his mouth over the intimate area. “Hurry up,” you hiss, eager to be rid of the burning heat as soon as possible.

“I’ll go at whatever pace I like,” he replies darkly before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave more than just a mark in his wake. A noise of pleasure seeks to slip from your mouth as he palms at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as he targets a spot just beneath your ear, kissing down your neck as he makes his way to your collar bones, littering your skin with deep bite marks that will surely remain for days, even with accelerated healing.

“You’re an arrogant prick, you know that,” you pant, putting as much venom into your voice as you can manage, thighs tightening around his hips so you can feel him more acutely, the thick length of him rubbing over your centre. “And you’re turned on by that?” He counters sharply with a hungry glint in his eyes.

Heat flushes your skin as you make to deny his claim, but his shadows have been untying the laces of your trousers making it easy for him to roughly grip the waistband and shove the material away, dragging it over your thighs and off past your ankles, leaving you with only your underwear to conceal your lower half. “Slow down,” you snarl, searching for a way to regain control of the situation. You hate that he’s the one in charge.

Azriel grips the underside of your thighs, guiding them to wrap snugly around his hips again as his hand slips beneath your shirt again, settling over your breast, fingers skimming your nipple tauntingly. “Hurry up. Slow down. Which one is it?” He goads, something that looks too close to male satisfaction passing through his expression for you to stand. Your lip curls and before you can second-guess yourself you’ve spat at him.

He freezes for a moment, motion halting and you find yourself holding your breath, keeping entirely still beneath him. Waiting for the storm to break.

Fury engulfs his eyes, features twisting in a snarl as he grips your jaw, fingers squeezing at the muscle as he forces your mouth open, spitting down between your lips. Your eyes widen as arousal flutters violently in your lower abdomen, unable to help the way your hips buck as you swallow. Sadism glints in his hazel eyes, his own arousal beginning to filter through into your lungs but to your surprise you don’t hate it.

“Like that?” He croons lowly, leaning over you while still gripping your jaw, eyes dark and dangerous yet there’s an unmistakable heat that he’s not quite able to entirely suppress. Rage pierces through your mind and your palm smacks across his cheek, nails catching on his brow and temple as you snarl lowly. “Try that again,” you hiss in warning, “I’m not against walking out right now if you pull something like that again.”

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it,” he replies icily, syllables dragging from his throat.

“Prick,” you snarl.

“Brat,” he bites back.

You make to smack him again but his shadows snare your wrists faster than you can blink, slamming them painfully back onto the table, the impact ringing through your bones but you refuse to show your wince. You open your mouth to hiss something at him—what, you haven’t yet decided—but the intention dissolves on your tongue as you feel him cup you through your underwear. Heat unravels in your lower stomach, liquefying into a torrent as arousal breaks all at once across your skin and you find yourself breathless. Cruel, dark hazel eyes pierce into yours, watching intently as he rests the heal of him palm over the apex of your thighs, his middle finger running tauntingly over your entrance, applying a light pressure to the dip between your legs.

Male satisfaction is written across his features but you find you can’t think of anything to knock it away: your hands are pinned, your legs slung over his hips, and you’re in no state to control the small amount of magic you possess. Azriel’s mouth remains in a loathsome cut, but you can still make out that heat in his gaze, the slight ember that’s the cause of this whole mess—you wonder how clearly it’s showing in your own eyes.

“Nothing to say?” He asks lowly over your mouth, silky hair brushing against your brow like a tender caress—the gentlest touch either of your will ever share between one another, and entirely unintended. “Don’t worry,” he rasps coldly, thumbing your underwear out of the way and your lips part on a sharp inhale as you feel his cock slide through the wetness that’s coalesced between your thighs. “I’ll make sure to fuck the brat out of you.”

“At least my negative traits can be removed,” you manage to hiss out ruefully, wishing to be able to rake your nails across his skin somehow. “There’s no changing what you are.”

You don’t need to remind him of your earlier comment. He’s been hearing the words repeat through his mind since you spat them out: Illyrian scum.

Icy fury glitters in his gaze, fingertips biting bruises into your hips as he lines himself up and swiftly pushes in, the entrance made almost effortless by how wet you are; you’re somewhat relieved when he makes no comment about it.

Your spine arches helplessly, lips parting as he pushes in, filling you up in a way you hadn’t anticipated or even considered. Satisfying the ache that had been thrumming between your legs, giving you something long and thick to squeeze. Your only saving grace is that he seems to be as breathless as you are, brow lowered to the top of your sternum, lips grazing between your breasts as his hands remain firmly on your hips. From another angle you’d think it looked reverent, but then you’d also look in the heights of pleasure, and no matter how Azriel might be able to make you feel physically, there’s no removing the guttural hatred that burns between you.

“Move,” you whisper, panting softly. “Move.”

His wings twitch almost imperceptibly at his back, then he’s dragging himself upright, pulling away from you to stand to his full height as he looms above. You swallow thickly, having enough sense to squeeze your thighs around his hips, legs locking as you urge him to move; to give more. “Hold still,” he breathes, and your muscles instinctively relax, giving him room to shift.

“So you can follow orders,” he muses lowly, holding you tight as he draws back.

“Fuck o—” you begin to say, but he rolls his hips firmly to yours and your head tips back onto his desk, falling to the side as his cock rubs so delightfully against you, pleasure brimming at your edges from being so full, so spread out. He doesn’t give you time to recover. After another firm roll of his hips, as if testing you out, he finds his rhythm instinctively. Hard, punishing movements that allow him to pound into you, shoving the breath from your lungs as he repeatedly slams into you.

Your spine arches, writhing on his desk as you tug at the shadowy constraints, desperate noises being forced from your chest as his cock drives into you over and over again, thoughts practically falling out of your mind as it turns to mush beneath the utterly overwhelming onslaught of pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut, blocking him out so you can concentrate only on the purest part of the sensations, zero in on the flutter of arousal between your legs, the rightness of being so full up, of having him pressed so tight between your thighs.

You allow yourself to fall deeply into the pleasure, allow yourself to be washed away entirely, submerged in the heated waters as you keep just enough of a hold on him to prevent your legs from falling off the desk. A moan slips from between your lips as your control begins to disintegrate, content to bask in the pleasure and forget who’s providing it. Azriel doesn’t make it that easy, though.

“Things would be so much better if you just learned to shut up and take it sooner,” he mutters down at you, shadows crawling leisurely over your body, pushing the fabric of your top up over your chest so their master can watch as your figure moves with each of his thrusts. Pleasure blossoms as his darkness teases the sensitive peaks of your breasts, pinching and playing with your nipples, and you try to dig your nails into your palm, teeth pushing into your lower lip to keep the noises from becoming louder.

“You’re so well-behaved now,” he muses lowly, and even if his expression wouldn’t show his pleasure, you can hear it the rich timbre of his voice, the satisfaction he’s feeling at getting you to shut up. “So docile,” he taunts, and your eyes snap open to shoot him a furious glare for trying to disrupt your pleasure. For succeeding. But no sooner than you open your eyes, his thumb presses over your clit and any resistance is utterly obliterated.

Azriel hadn’t anticipated how it would feel however, how your body would respond to the intimate kind of stimulation he was subjecting you to, and is unable to bite down on the rough groan that drags viscerally from his chest as you tighten around him, as if trying to pull him deeper so he’ll never leave.

The both of you are near your breaking point though neither wants to admit it. But the signs are there. Your panting breaths, the gleam on his skin, the heat to your cheeks, the tension in his body—it’s all there for the other to read. He rubs against a spot and despite subduing your reaction he somehow knows where to aim, targeting it repeatedly as his thumb soothes over your clit, the pad sliding effortlessly over top from the slick that’s coating the both of you. It’s so much that your discipline slips for a moment. “Azriel…”

It’s softer than a breath, quieter than a whisper, but he hears it. Of course he hears it. And he finds that he likes the way you moan his name. Especially while getting to take his tension out on you so roughly. It’s probably more satisfying than any method he could have thought up on his own.

His grip tightens on your hips, angling them slightly upright as he leans over you. “Say that again,” he commands quietly, but firmly. An intensity in his demand that has your throat rolling. You don’t want to, but you can feel his concentration piercing down on you, the intensity of his focus weighing so heavily that you feel like your skin is prickling.

“Piss off,” you manage to get out, but you can feel how swiftly release is gathering, how close you are to that wonderful high that will knock you clean from your feet.

For a moment he continues with his punishing movements, but it seems like he’s committed now. You hadn’t fully understood what it would mean to have his entire attention upon you, but when he roughly rips you from his desk, jerking you up against his chest as he turns the two of you around so your back is shoved up against his wall, you feel the consequences dawn on you.

From this position you’re forced so much closer, the physical intimacy catching you off guard as your breasts press flush to his chest, staring into cold hazel eyes that can be no more than a few inches from your own, able to feel each puff of breath that’s expelled from his body as it brushes over your lips. He takes up all of your vision, wings flared slightly at his back as shadows crawl up your body, pinching at your nipples, pressing against your clit as his hips buck roughly to your own and you feel yourself unravel.

The orgasm pulses through your body once, before crashing down on you in its entirety, and your mouth parts in silent ecstasy.

His hand slides through your hair, your own having found their place on his shoulders, and he angles your head so you’re forced to look at him. “Say it,” he murmurs, lips brushing over yours, and your world is thawed enough that you yield.

“Az…riel…”

A heavy sigh warms your mouth, then his teeth grit, head dropping to your shoulder as you feel him find his release. Your hips buck, hands grappling to reach over his shoulders, pulling him into you as the waves of pleasure continue to pulse through your body, muscles turning custard-like beneath the overpowering sensations. Reaching weakly over his back, you have enough energy to lightly skim the pads of your fingers over the ridges of his wings, and if it wasn’t for his proximity to you, you’re almost certain you would have missed the soft moan that involuntary parts from his lips. He tenses briefly, the only sign that he was caught off guard before his teeth settle over your shoulder, biting lightly at the side of your throat.

Breaths pant between you as you ride out the aftershocks, basking in the waning pleasure for a few moments longer before your hold relaxes on him, and he steps back, hands still keeping your hips pinned to the wall despite your feet now being on the ground.

You bite back a hiss as his cock leaves you feeling slightly cold and empty, but you’d rather take a near-lethal dose of faebane than tell him that. His gaze meets yours and for a second you’re unsure what you could possibly say to one another. But his expression remains cold, your own features shifting habitually towards neutrality.

“You have until tomorrow morning to redo the report,” he mutters, already having his clothes back in place as his shadows push your trousers to your stomach, and your hands wrap around the bundle of fabric.

“Want me to write a report on this, too?” You reply, relieved that the heat is beginning to cool, sensing you’re back in control of yourself.

His brow narrows, the hollow beneath darkening with loathing. “You’re more trouble that you’re worth,” he mutters, stepping back to give you space.

You meet his icy gaze, a sharp glint in your own as victory sparks darkly across your chest.

“Liar.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes

[trashfangirlsworld]

Hello! I've been inactive due to the current events in the mcyt community, but I've been keeping up with the qsmp admin situation and I thought I'd share some opinions because the amount of doomposting I've seen the last few weeks has been more than I've seen in any fandom in a while and I feel like it's reached the point where people really need to chill the fuck out because they're not thinking straight and actively not helping. Everything I'm gonna say is based on stuff I've seen on both tumblr and twitter.

they should not promote/release merch! : one of the things that baffles me the most tbh; how do you expect any employee to be payed then? Merch is so far the only big source of income for the server besides q's own cc salary or whatever income they get through the official qsmp channel on twitch and youtube (which I don't think is a lot). "I get that they said they have no funds, but still it doesn't feel right"... sorry but at this point I don't know what to tell you, do you expect them to pull money out of their asses? You can't demand that they stop making merch and then complain that they can't afford the twitter admins at the same time. If you don't feel comfortable buying anything from them it's fine obviously, but if your reason for it is that you're helping the admins then I have bad news for you. I have seen people propose that quackity sets up a patreon, and while I think it would be a good idea, I understand why he's not doing it, since with the merch he can at least give something back to the people that choose to support his project instead of people just giving him money for free, especially with what's happening now. Also with how much hate he's been receiving simply for the merch I can't imagine that a patreon would be recieved well.

we don't know if the money is going to the admins/ they should not use pomme's likeness! : the money is definitely going to go to the employees and admins because otherwise the server would not last. And as much as I understand people feeling protective over pomme's admin, quackity studios is very much allowed to sell merch of the character because it is not the likeness of the admin, it's a minecraft model made by the people that work there. Would you have rathered they skip her character entirely? Do you really think that would have been okay?. Also correct me if I'm wrong, but I've seen posts and tweets saying that pomme's admin has been confirmed to come back with the other eggs whenever it happens by pierre, who talked with her admin.

the admins of the update accounts got fired, it means they want to fire everyone, they aren't making things better! : it sucks that the updates accounts had to end and I feel bad for every twitter admin that clearly cared a lot about the project, but unfortunately it had to happen if there simply isn't enough money to pay them adequately like they deserved and ultimately the update accounts were not essential to keep the project going, so it makes sense that they were let go unfortunately. This is not gonna be the case for the egg admins because if they got fired (which they didn't), the server would basically end. Just because a cc does not know when they will be back does not mean it's not gonna happen. Just because tubbo randomly said that he's not sure if they will be back does not mean they were fired; tubbo is normally not a reliable source of information, even less so when he's been live nonstop for the past 20 days, which is prior to everything happening. If you genuinely didn't expect a reduction in non essential staff considering everything, then you have unreasonable expectations on how this stuff goes. As I write this, I'm seeing people saying that "they would understand this decision if q had set up a patreon to pay the admins", and once again I don't understand how people don't realize why quackity might not be keen on the idea of having his fans pay his own employees for his own project instead of, you know, doing it himself; and, again, do not fool yourself into thinking it would be recieved well. That being said, it's fair to criticize how everything was communicated to the admins, but I'll get to this in more detail later.

quackity should not have uninstalled social media, he's trying to avoid everything! : he's not avoiding anything, he's been off social media for a while now, which is why it took him that long to remove wilbur from the server. He has every right to not want to look at social media, as his focus should be on restructuring his server instead of doomscrolling on twitter because people think he needs to see how much people dislike him. The only people that he should talk to are those that have important information to tell him, like josè with the document. He explicitly said on stream where to contact him if you have helpful information and I'm sure that despite multiple well liked posts saying not to spam his email, people are definitely doing it anyway, which is probably gonna slow the whole thing down even more. I hope josè's document is able to be seen with pierre's help as well.

quackity studios is not communicating with their employees and leaving them in the dark and that's not okay : I agree with this. i think a huge chunk of doomposting lately has been due the lack of communication not with the audience, but with the admins, and they deserve to know what is happening behind the scenes more then us since this is about their current or future job.... that being said, I do kind of understand why they're being so secretive and shutting everyone out, and that's due to all the "leaks" that have been spread online. I understand the anger but I really wish some people would realize that discussing leaked bts lore stuff in ccs discord servers does not help the situation at all and instead makes it seem like they're only doing this to rile up the fandom against quackity studios by using the lore of people's fav characters.

At the end of the day, I think people just aren't used to dealing with a situation that does not have a clear cut solution and someone to clearly hate, so the result is this doomposting and the over aggressiveness toward anything related to the project. Personally, I haven't witnessed anything that made me lose faith in the qsmp like some people have been saying, as every change that we've seen so far coincides with what quackity said on stream a while ago. I only wish things were communicated properly to the admins clearly, as they're the ones most affected, so I hope that's resolved soon. Ultimately quackity is singlehandedly restructuring the server from basically zero, has had to fire people that were misusing money and power and, depending on what josè's document said, is probably gonna have to fire some more. This is not an easy process, nor a quick one, you're not gonna hear about sunshine and rainbows for a while and doomposting about everything you hear because you expected quick change is useless. Think before you speak, have a clear head and most importantly have empathy.

[pixiesholloworld]

✭୨୧˚LIKE SHAY SHAY!˚୨୧✭

synopsis⟿ after a heated argument with your boyfriend sukuna, he tries to smooth things out by treating you to something special…

not proofread and kinda shitty

sukuna was really passionate about being with you.. like over the top passionate he fell for you almost instantly when he saw you for the first time at the grocery store, his eyes tracing your curves taking note on how they hugged up on your tube top and tiny little shorts. He tried to play it cool, not saying too much of anything, you thought he was kind of corny because of it but it was cute. so of course when you gave this mysterious beefcake a chance he wouldn't spare a single second not doting after you.

you heard the way he talked to others- how he spoke to them like they were below him, you knew how he pushed his way to the top of his job, selling drugs, guns, and many many other "services". he knew how to get his way with others whether it was by force or reason, more importantly how he wasn't ever up for being the bigger person— all that matters to him is being able to prove a point. sukuna wasn't one for high roads when it came to other people.. but you?

oh you had him whipped, its honestly a shock to anyone how a crybaby like you ended up with such a brute man. though anytime he did happen to upset you he immediately apologizes in his own aggressive yet gentle way, willing to go above and beyond just to get in your good graces again. its so out of character for him to care about a person this much, so much so that his friends are convinced you did some type of voodoo on him, forcing him to act right or else. so when you left to work in the midst of a heated argument you weren't surprised to see that he had — yet again — sent a bouquet of your favorite flowers with a note:

"take off and i’ll make it up to you doll

i pinky promise"

you scoff at his appealing message, moving the flowers to the backroom of your job. who does he think he is? sending you flowers when you're clearly upset with him, does ignoring his first 50 calls mean nothing? with his perfect handwriting and perfect attention to detail. i guess dating a jailbird had its perks..

"trouble in paradise again?" your coworker snickers.

you roll your eyes and stuff the note in your pocket, you had another 7 hours here and you weren't going to let sukuna seduce you out of a well earned paycheck.. even IF he would've paid you double the amount to go home to him. but if sukuna had to admit it that same level of pettiness is exactly why he's with a woman like you

—

later that night you drove home, exhausted, hungry and still angry, you turn the keys to your apartment to see sukuna pulling pizza out the oven, its almost as if he read your mind. you drag yourself over to your shared room plopping on the bed, trying to relax and push your angry thoughts down but it all washes away when a familiar warmth creeps upon your back "hey sweet lady" his husky voice cutting though the tension and shooting right through your heart. you hated being mad at him but you couldn't help it how could he forget about the ONE thing that upsets you the most?! you pull away from his touch curling up into a ball

"awh don't be like that doll"

"you yelled at me.." you mumble through a choked up throat. he curls up against you, his thumb circling your temple. You loved how warm he felt on your back and it was nice that he remembers your love language even if you are being a bit unreasonable. anytime sukuna raises his voice just a smidge you get all teary eyed "so that's what this is all about?" he hums, pulling you closer to him by your waist, "i'm sorry sweetie-"

you cut him off, just wanting to say what you didn't have the words to say earlier, "i just don't understand why you have to work so late," you pull his large hand off of your head and hold it in front of your face, tracing along the lines and calloses that scar his skin, "i just miss you s'all" he heard you loud and clear, "hey," he gently called, grabbing your face and turning it towards him so you can look him in the eyes while he says this, "i don't really like workin' that late either but money doesn't make itself". He pushes the strands of braids out our face so he can get a good look at you, grabbing your chin and rubbing his thumb against it, "i miss you when i'm gone too baby but we can make the most of our time right now"

you let out a relaxed sigh feeling a sense of relief now that you both know what you were trying to say, you look him in his crimson eyes and crack a soft smile. "so.. are we friends again?" he playfully asks, you shake your head yes and pull him in for a kiss. he returns the favor 10 fold of course. locking you in his arms as he peppers kisses in the crook of your neck and on your face until suddenly your eyes lock and for what feels like an eternity, the world stops. without a second thought the two of you started taking your clothes off exchanging kisses in between rushed breaths.

this wasn’t a normal thing for you two, you were never one to initiate makeup sex you’d rather cuddle and watch a movie. though sukuna admittedly has been dreaming of this moment, where he finally gets to show you how sorry he really is. he doesn’t spare a moment yanking your work clothes off of you, crashing his lips into yours he steals the taste he craved right out of your mouth. your lust filled whimpers were oh so sweet to him, you were practically begging him for more and he was gonna give you every. single. inch.

he pulls his mouth from yours watching how your your pleading eyes gloss over, you move a hand up to the nape of his neck before pulling his ear close to your mouth

"let me ride it"

though you were known as a crybaby to everyone sukuna knew the dirty girl that hid deep inside you, it was a side of you that only he could access and he loved every bit of that. due to this fact a wide smile creeps up on his face when you double down, "you heard me?"

"you didn't have to say nuthin' but a word princess"

he rolls over on his back pulling you right over him, your leaking entrance hanging right over his angry, pink tip begging to let it explore your insides. your eyes trail from sukuna's happy trail all the way up to his hungry eyes, he's not one to rush but you can tell he's growing impatient as his thumbs massage the sides of your plush hips

"enjoying the view?"

you suck your teeth and steady his head over your slit slowwwly pushing down until every inch of him fits snugly into your wet crevasse, you wince at the sudden stretching it's not something you're sure you'll ever get use to. you start slowly at first dragging yourself ever so slowly trying to get him all worked up, you can tell its working because of how intense his stare is.

his hands worked over to your tits squeezing and cupping them ever so gingerly,, he was trying to be patient,, his breath hitches a bit as you press your small hands on his chest. "been thinking of that pussy all day" he admits, one of his hands move under your ass squeezing the fat and lightly spanking it demanding a yelp out of you, "you get my gift?"

"mmhm~" you answer, picking up your pace just a bit more, he smiles at this and sneakily moves his other hand under your ass, spanking it again just so he can hear you yelp

"you like it?" he asks, eyes switching between watching your pussy swallow him whole and your cute little face. if your blush could be seen you're sure you'd look as red as a tomato by now, seeing him look at you so intently like this made you feel so dizzy. you move your head down to his ear once more

"i loved it"

unbeknownst to you this would be the final straw to push sukuna over the edge, he loves to be praised and he was gonna show you exactly what your words do to him. using the hands underneath your ass he tilts you towards his chest and immediately starts drilling into you, you can feel yourself clutching around his girth, deep groans escape his mouth as he fucks tiny whimpers and slutty squelches out of yours

you can feel sukuna's body temperature raise almost the instant your breasts are pressed against him, he thrusts faster, the sound of your bodies along with your desperate cries filled his ears, pap, pap, pap! he grew harder at the the thought that you could be heard in the surrounding rooms of your apartment though his main motivation was how loud he could make you scream his name. oh how he loved to make you scream, he’d feel you clawing at him as your broken up mewls fueled his boner it was almost like a reward and he knew exactly how to get more of what he was chasing after

he quickly pops his dick out and flips you on your back, "there's my pretty girl," he coos, "need to see that cock drunk face before i finish" he slams his lips into yours once more slipping his dick inside in the process. he places a hand on your stomach feeling how your soft pretty skin heats up to his touch he places another behind your head and starts up again. deep, drawn out thrusts just how his lady likes it, he felt how your gummy walls squeezed at the sudden change in tempo, making his stomach tense up and drill into you even deeper

"fuuckk, keep goin' woman," he buries his head into the crook of your neck, his thrusts becoming quicker and sloppier the more you called out his name, he looked down to see the concupiscent amounts of cream on his cock— so lewd, the sight of it made a muted whimper escape his lips. he was gonna blow soon and you could tell, "you feel so good mama" he breathes out, his voice so low yet wispy, it sent electric bolts straight to your clit. he doesn’t let up though, thrusting deeper as if he was trying to break through your cervix "'k-kuna~, 'kuna~" you manage to gasp out, you lock him in your gasp with your legs, "don't stop- god please don't stop!~" you felt breathless yet hot, your soft hands felt around his hardened body looking for something, anything to keep you grounded

"m'here baby, shit- m'gonna cum" he groans, lifting himself up to stare in your eyes before you both come to your inevitable finish. a hand reaches up to his face and another on his heartbeat, you felt how hard it was thumping, how hard his body was working in this moment. you could feel him working himself through your pussy until he hits that one spot, causing your mouth to drop right open. you start tearing up you and let out a loud scream, squirt uncontrollably splashes all over his pelvis making him give a loud, guttural groan

“i-i love you ‘kuna— fuuckk!~ iloveyou!” these were the last intelligible words spoken by you before the rest turned into a slurry mess, you babbled on and on repeating iterations of ‘i love you’. normally sukuna would stop and tease you for it but he was already about to blow

the best he can do is he let you ride out your orgasm, he moved his thumb down to your clit and started rubbing sensual circles over it, "give it all t'me" he commands still rolling his hips into your tight, swollen cunt. he watches as your facial expressions change. he loved how you’d squeeze your eyes so tightly and leave your mouth open nice and wide, "that's it,” he purrs “what a sweet girl", he bends down to kiss your forehead feeling how your body shakes beneath him, “you love me?”

“yes! yes!~”

“you’re not just sayin that ‘cause i fuck you good?”

“i love you ‘kuna” you breathe out between sobs, he wipes the tears from your eyes and shushes you, planting kisses on your face which to his surprise makes your pussy sieze up squirt a little again.

as he tries to drag himself out he finds that he can’t, he places his hands on the side of your head, feeling his legs begin to shake, he lets out a low, desperate grunt throwing his head back while thrusting until he fills you up to the brim with hot, thick spurts of cum. he watches how it combines with your juices, letting the feeling totally control him until finally his muscles relax and his body gives out

“i love you too woman” he breathes out

your legs fully give out at this point, tired from the sudden boost of serotonin, taking note of this he pulls out and lays next to you holding your hand and kissing on it

you both lie there speechless for a moment before he breaks the silence

“you like cold pizza?”

[theoceansluvr]

Multi-Character x Birthday! Reader

warnings; me hating getting older T^T characters; percy jackson, connor stoll, annabeth chase, + leo valdez author's note; it's that time of year again where i grow up and absolutely DREAD IT. but ! writing this for the sheer joy of it all🩷 my birthday is actually tmrw i just wanted to post this earlier.. may write smth else for the day of.. side note - percy's was sorta based on things im doing for my birthday this year !

PERCY JACKSON -

OOOOO HE LOVES YOUR BIRTHDAY SO MUCH !

like genuinely, he's plotting his moves 5 months in advance !

he usually makes you gifts rather than buying them bc he's a broke high schooler(me too)

not the best crafter in the world, but it's the thought that counts right ?

he also brings you a bouquet of flowers that the Demeter cabin gave to him exclusively for you !

however, if you already have plans then he's 1000% on board !!

oh your going to a Yankees game ? he's already decked out in a jersey and cap. your going to a broadway show ? he's learning the soundtrack already + choreography for some reason

i think he'd take you under water for a little makeshift picnic thingy or maybe out to the docks at midnight

gives you the biggest, fattest birthday kiss EVER. with the addition of fish orchestra play your favorite song !

best birthday boyfriend ever; 10/10 !

CONNOR STOLL -

my absolute bias of a man, he would give you everything and more for your birthday which is usually swiped off of someone..

HOWEVER ! i like to believe he'd be a responsible person and actually buy/make you something for your birthday !

on the contrary to percy, i think he'd actually be a really good craftsman ! like he makes you a whole flower bouquet out of paper and you'd hardly be able to tell the difference

he wakes you up at the most unreasonable time so you can "make the most of the day !" as if he has a clue what he has planned

probably peppers your face in kisses to wake you up

or pranks you.. whichever floats your boat !

he goes with the flow and drags you around to all your favorite places and everything like that :3 even if it's somewhere super boring to him like the art gallery

if you're happy, he's thrilled !

also, your birthday cake is probably a chocolate little debbie cupcake with a candle

as stated, he's my favorite little man so he obviously gets bonus points !!; 12/10

ANNABETH CHASE -

MY GIRLFRIEND OF THE YEAR EVERYONE, SHE'S GIVING YOU THE BEST BIRTHDAY POSSIBLE.

literally NOBODY is going to be able to out do her for either gifts or experience overall

much like Percy, she's had this planned out for the longest amount of time. like she was planning this after your birthday last year

makes you breakfast in the morning because Chiron is a wee bit biased for her and despite the fact she never really leaned how to cook, it was reallyyyy good !! (she learned how to make your favorite for weeks)

anyways, she brings you breakfast in bed while explaining her whole itinerary of things she had lined up for you

she takes you to all your favorite places + food spots, she gets you pretty much whatever you'd like, and then she took you to a bonfire that night :3

she feels like a love letter writer for some reason, so please expect a handwritten letter on all the things she loves about you and why she appreciates you

maybe asks Ms. Sally Jackson herself to teach her how to bake so you can have your favorite flavor of cake :3c

either that or she buys a box cake mix and you make it together !

she's my favorite lover girl and i adore her; 1000000/10 !

LEO VALDEZ -

lastly, the man, the myth, the legend. he is making you the gift of a lifetime

makes you something with the most intricate design imaginable; jewelry, a book cover, maybe even a jewelry box of your into that sort of thing !

anything that would make your eyes sparkle, he on it !

probably does that advent calendar thing with all the trinkets he makes you up until the day of

needless to say, he gets WAYYYY to excited over you, so cut him some slack !

practically hangs on your every word on your birthday too(he always does but it's worse now)

oh you want to watch that movie about paint ? sure ! he'll even make popcorn even though it sounds beyond boring

he also cooks you your absolute favorite food and pretends he's on some Gordon Ramsay show to keep you entertained

ends the day with giving you that one of a kind, borderline art exhibit worthy gift he'd been working on with a very, VERY passionate kiss..

he invented the phrase "love to the point of invention" so he gets a massive: ∞/10

[yourlocalstranger123]

Obey Me!

[How the demons react to you touching their demon form.]

I tried my best to find the owners of the picture but failed. I forgot to get the owners and tried to find the pictures again (since I deleted them in my gallery) so do not hate me 🥲

Lucifer

He declines immediately when you asked him. His pride would never let you touch his wings/horns...until you 'accidentally' touch his wings.

He wants to scold you. But on the other hand... "As a reward, I'll let you touch my wings...and horns perhaps." And pamper him.

[He just wants you to touch him]

He brings you to the bedroom and sits on the bed letting you stroke his horns and touch his wings.

He wants to lean on you. Oh how he wishes for you to keep going like this.

"Keep going...hah, just like that. Hngh-....I have work to do-" He walks away. It seems that you have found a new side of him. Congrats!

In the past, if you're trying to do it while he's working, he'll say "Stop bothering me....fine, you better make this worth it." Looking at him now, he whines at the loss of contact, grabbing your wrist to lead back on to the bed.

"please don't go just yet.....stay."

[He's begging you.]

He said those words while he puts his head on your shoulder. He sighs in relief when you rub his wings and kisses his horns.

[He'll put away his pride just for you]

Now if any other people ask you to do it for them, well the next morning. The person disappears. If you do it to them, wanting to do it, he will drag you away. Scolding you that you shouldn't trust any other people so easily. He just wants you to do it only for himself.

Now if you want to put accessories on him, he will say it's unreasonable. Well, the next thing you know! He will be acting like a doll, letting you put accessories on him. Maybe put little feathers (any color) accessories on his horns.

"You look way more beautiful than a ruby, even the most famous painting. Perhaps are you all beautiful just for me Luci?" You tease. "Stop with the teasing already." If you had paid enough attention, you'd see a full-on flustered Luci trying to keep his composure.

Mammon

"H- huUuUUHH?! Y-...Fine! Be grateful that the Great Mammon is allowing you!" Looking away from you. Well, the thing you didn't expect was when you touch his horn, then outlined his wings; He became greedy.

Welp, now you're stuck with a demon who is trying to be sly and make you touch his horns/wings. So, the moment you touch him, he will be addicted and snuggling onto your hand.

[Don't let go.]

Drowning into your warmth, when you tried to let go. He frowned. Not letting go, you sighed. When you stopped striding your fingers on his wings, rubbing the base of his horns. He started begging, for your touch, warmth, and praise for how fluffy his hair is.

If you hadn't touched him for a week, He'd start throwing little tantrums at you. Then when you finally started to do it. He would be saying so many muffled apologies.

If you started doing it to other people, even just playfully bullying them by messing their hair. The next day, the person didn't want to get close to you. Flinching at the sound of Mammon's voice.

Accessories. He would be delighted to have jewelry on his horns/wings. Especially when you chose them and put it on him.

"My little treasure, no amount of money can compare to you!" Patting his head and gliding your hand through his fluffy hair. He was stuttering about what you just said. Falling onto the floor. He looked away blushing.

Levi

"W- WHAaaAaA?! I-....alright. B- but! Can you please wear Henry's outfit in exchange? (The fish)/Ruri Chan outfit in exchange?"

(If you have a built body, do. Not. Flex. Well, if you do. You will have him having a nosebleed. No matter which outfit. The Henry outfit or the Ruri Chan outfit.)

He looked away embarrassed. Flinching when you grab the base of his horns, lightly stroking down his tail. Now, if you do it while he's playing a game. His focus is all on you, the contact of your hand on his tail, and the other hand on the tip of his horns.

When you let go, he will start crying. Saying if he did anything wrong, did he? He holds you tight. (Even when you have a big body. Not in the sus way though) feeling hot tears on your back.

[Please continue. If you wont, he'll be sad!]

He's the demon of envy! So of course he's gonna be soooo jealous when you do it for other people. The next thing you know, the person looks like he has been through a whole lot. Flinching at the sound of water, and doesn't even get near you.

Accessories! He would let you do it. Nothing too flashy. Maybe make him wear the Ruri outfit just for fun~ or maybe put little bows on him to make it look even cuter!

"Awww, such a cutie. Don't be shy, let me add the one last bow." You said smugly, wrapping his tail with a little bow. You also had wrapped a bow on his neck and his horns. He was blushing so hard, he was even redder than the bows!

Satan

"Is this perhaps a new kind of torture? Hmm..I will participate then." You chuckled. You griped his horns then tugged his tail. He flinches. Wasn't because of pain, he was quite enjoying this.

You would scratch the base of the horns softly. Then stroking his tail lightly. Do this especially when angry or maybe stressed. This can distract him from doing destruction and chaos. He would enjoy it even more if you do it a bit more rough.

[Maybe in bed too.]

He can last about half a month. (If there wasn't something to trigger his wrath.) But if you don't do it for too long, he WILL. Knock down your door, dragging you to his bedroom so you can pamper give him with your love and care.

If you refuse to do it, he will crack. Having frustration upon him, he destroys everything in his path. The next day, you have no choice but to do it. Because he knows that you're too soft and kind to let any destruction that hurts life.

[So, please keep pampering him.]

You can't even do it to anyone. The moment that there's a sign of it. That person would be gone. No traces.

Accessories, you only let him have soft, not-so-harmful ones. (Since even if it isn't supposed to be harmful, he has a way to make it harmful.) He loves it because it's your choice. You had thought about him.

"Hello, my little emerald." You are trying to not laugh. He was surprised you called him that. Even though it seems he was calm. He was malfunctioning.

Asmodeus

He won't even hesitate. He loves when you touch his horns and small wings. You treat them so gently, like an artifact that can break even a single mistake.

[He doesn't mind if you go rough]

You would take care great care of them with the first contact with his horns/wings. So now, it's in your daily schedule to take care of him. At first, he didn't really like them. But when you came into his life, he now has a reason to like them. It's because you are the one who put great care into it for him! He usually feels lust. But from you, just filled with love and care!

[He would be delighted if you have some lust for him]

If you don't take care of them, even for 1 day. He will open the door and launch on you. Whining about it and how he misses you! The way you touch him so gently. If you leave, he will get on his knees. Begging for you to not leave.

If you do it to anyone, the next day. The person feels like his energy and life force is being taken away and later withers away.

He would love accessories! Any accessory will do. He will ask you if it fits him well. Maybe put some roses. (The picture is an example)

"You look so pretty. Even without it." He smiles, hugging you and you hug back oh so lightly.

[He loves when you compliment him even without anything on him.]

Beel

He doesn't mind. He actually appreciates it. It distracts him from eating everything in the fridge. Happily basks in your warmth.

Touching his horns, gently outlining the shape of his wings. If you stop, he'll frown. Asking you to keep going. If you refuse, he gets even more sadder and now he barely even touch his food!

If you hadn't done it yet, he will go to you and ask for more. Snuggling onto your neck. Hungrily wanting for more.

If you do it for someone else, he will tell you that his heart stings and has the desire to drag you and keeping you in his arms so you can only do it for him. He felt guilty, frowning. Thinking he was in trouble. Nope, you just ask him if he wants to eat with you.

He doesn't really find it in the use of accessories. But if you're doing it, he wouldn't mind. That's just another excuse for you to touch him.

"You look like a chipmunk! How cute." He doesn't know if he should be flattered or embarrassed but he just smiles sweetly.

Or maybe

"You know. I can just eat you up right now!" You smiled. He was still processing what you mean by that.

[He hopes you keep your promise]

Belphie

He was too tired so he just nodded. He jolted when he felt a hand rubbing the base of his horns and the other hand was playing with the fluff on the ends of his tail.

He was about to quietly yell at you until he found it...soothing, comforting and so relaxed. So he just bathe in your warmth and sleep

Well, for a few days now, he has been asking you to do it since he found out he cannot now sleep without you doing it.

If you refuse, he will be cranky and throw small tantrums. Day, by day. It got worse and worse. So you just agreed to do it. When you leave, you hear a whimper. Tugging on your sleeve, leading you to the bed, and laying on your lap. Expecting you to comfort him. Wrapping his tail around your arm. Teasing you with the fluffy ends of his tail.

[In hopes of you grabbing it.]

If someone asks you to do it then later, the person suddenly cannot sleep and if they do, they will have terrible nightmares.

He only accepts soft accessories that are quiet or a necklace that doesn't easily get tangled with anything.

"Goodnight belphie. Sweet dreams." He smiled. Snuggling in closer while you cuddle him.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: here she is! my fic for @prettytoxicrevolver for @wyattjohnston ‘s summer 2k24 fic exchange! this was so fun to write and step out of my comfort zone with cole. i hope you enjoy! ☺️

tw: some mild innuendo, zegras sister, brother’s best friend, fake dating

word count: 11.4k

summary: it’s the summer of weddings and just as you’re dreading going solo to them, your brother’s best friend, cole caufield, offers to be your date. it’s the perfect solution, too bad you’ve been madly in love with cole for years and your heart can’t seem to grasp the concept of a fake date.

“Fuck,” you mutter, flipping through the mail and spotting the thick cream colored envelope addressed to you.

And Guest.

Another fucking wedding to add to the summer slate, another fucking plus one when you don’t have a plus one to bring.

Your fingers tap against the cardstock, a frown drawing your lips into a downward curve.

“What’s with the pout, Noodle?” The familiar, grating voice of your brother startles you and you jump, sandals slapping against the pavers that lead into the backyard, the mail flying out of your hands. You could kill your mother for coming up with that nickname when you were a toddler. It’s not that cute now that you’re twenty-two and your brother uses it every chance he gets.

“Christ, Trev!” You snap, hand covering your heart. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

You narrow your eyes at him, sprawled over the lounge chair closest to the pool. It’s only late April, but it was unreasonably warm the last two weeks, so your dad had decided to open the pool early even though no one was likely to use it until closer to Memorial Day. Well, no one but Trevor apparently. if the little puddles of pool water on the ddck are to be trusted.

“Gee,” he rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, clapping both hands over his chest and putting on a faux-earnest expression, “just the welcome home a big brother was hoping for after a long and gruelling season of injury and loss.”

“First of all,” you squat down to gather up the mail, “mom and I were down in Anaheim for weeks when you busted your ankle. And secondly, if I had known you’d be coming home, I would’ve rolled out the appropriate red carpet.”

Your tone is laced with a healthy amount of sarcasm and Trevor doesn’t miss it, if the amused grin on his face is any indication.

“Mom stayed for weeks, you left after fifteen minutes,” Trevor counters. “And what does the red carpet entail? Are there fancy cocktails and snacks?”

Snorting, you fold the mail into a neat pile, holding it in both hands. “I’ll spring for a box of Cheez-its and a case of High Noon, good enough for you?”

Trevor pretends to think about it for a minute, making a show of rubbing at his chin, where a particularly pathetic attempt at a beard is growing, before nodding decisively. “I accept your offer,” he pronounces. “Seriously though, what’s with the face?”

“There’s no face,” you shoot back. “It’s just my regular face when I see you.”

“Dude, you look like someone pissed in your Cheerios,” Trevor snorts, flopping back onto the lounge chair. He waves a hand in front of his face. “You get all pinchy in the eyebrows.”

“I do not!” Your hand flies up to your forehead and smooths over the skin in between your brows, pressing into the little furrow, hating that he’s right. “Ugh, just fuck off.”

“Who’s fucking off?” A new voice, familiar, comes from behind you and you whirl around just in time to watch Cole Caufield step out onto the back deck, a bag of Tostitos and a jar of salsa held in his arms. Your heart skips a beat and you hate it. “I just got here so it’s not gonna be me.”

He grins at you, his whole face scrunching up, and you can pretend for a second until he opens his mouth again and says, “hi, Noodle.”

Fuck.

“Hey, Cole,” you manage a smile in return. “Came to freeload in Connecticut for a bit?”

Your brother’s friend laughs and plants himself on another lounge chair, tossing the bag of chips to Trevor while he pops open the salsa jar. “Is it freeloading when you’re invited?” He shrugs, giving you an impish look.

“Yeah,” Trevor supplies, his mouth stuffed with chips, “if Coley’s freeloading, then you’re freeloading too, Noodle.”

“Mom and Dad actually love having me around,” you shoot back, offended. “Besides, come fall, I’m moving out anyway, so they have to soak up all their time with me now.” You pop a hip out and flip your hair, forgetting again about the mail in your hands. The stupid, thick wedding envelope goes flying and Cole lunges to catch it before it lands in a puddle of pool water. You reach for it, but he flips the envelope over to see who it’s addressed to before giving it back.

One eyebrow quirks up and he says, “wedding season, huh?”

“Four this summer,” you huff a sigh and sit at the bottom of Trevor’s lounge chair, smacking his foot away when he twitches it to hit your thigh. “Oh my god, stop that.”

“No,” he hits your thigh again and you smack his ankle - not the previously broken one, you’re smarter than that. Cole laughs when you and Trevor devolve into a slapping and kicking fight that eventually ends with you on your ass on the patio and Trevor with chip crumbs in his hair.

“The fucking Zegras siblings,” Cole gasps out a laugh, one hand braced at his side. “You two are nuts.”

“Life was so much more peaceful when you were on the other side of the country,” you grouch at Trevor, fighting a blush when Cole sticks out his hand and pulls you to your feet. He pats the edge of his lounge chair, indicating for you to take a seat, and you do, trying to avoid the brush of your thigh against his. Your efforts are futile and it feels like your face is as hot as the sun when his warm skin touches yours.

Before Trevor can get a breath in to start fighting with you, Cole interrupts and asks, “four weddings is a lot. All friends? Aren’t you young to have friends getting married?”

You’re not that much younger than Cole - you and Trevor are Irish twins, both born in March (2001 for Trevor and 2002 for you) so, you’re only fourteen months younger than Cole, not that either one of them will let you forget that you’re younger.

“Don’t hockey players get married while they’re still in utero?” You tease, helping yourself to some chips. “I went to school in Alabama, it’s a miracle I made it out without becoming a child bride.”

“Plus one wedding’s our cousin’s and she’s thirty two,” Trevor supplies. “So not a child bride.”

Cole nods. “Yeah, fair enough. I guess we’re in the wedding season of our lives,” he laughs a little and you find yourself smiling just at the sound.

Goddamn, you’re down bad.

You force your mouth into a more neutral expression before Trevor spots it and starts roasting you. “Weddings are fun,” you admit, the next words slipping out of your mouth before you can stop them, “when you have someone to go with, anyway. Otherwise it’s just a reminder that you’re the sad single with no one to dance the slow songs with.”

Both guys are silent for a beat and you can feel the mortification working its way through your body. Good job, admitting that you’re alone and sad, in front of your stupid brother and his stupid friend that you’ve had a stupid crush on for years. Cole cocks his head at you and you spring up from the chair, nausea bubbling in your stomach. No way can you stand to hear whatever pity-tinged platitude he’s going to say.

“See you,” you mutter, jumping up from the chair and darting off inside where you can’t embarrass yourself any further.

Your mom is at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables for dinner. She looks up when you come inside, nearly slamming the back door shut. “What’s on fire out there?” She asks, knife poised over the red pepper on the cutting board and a concerned look on her face.

“Just my social skills,” you grumble, swiping a piece of pepper. “Also, it would’ve been nice to have a warning that Terror was home.” You pause, snapping the pepper between your teeth. Add, “and bringing guests.”

“Noodle,” your mom laughs affectionately, “Dad and I have been talking about Trev’s visit for a week now. Jamie’s coming up at the end of the week too. You know your brother, always needs to have his little posse around.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname again. “No one calls it a posse anymore,” you huff, feeling all of sixteen years old again as you stomp off to your bedroom.

The guys dip before dinner, Trevor shouting through the house that they’re going for tacos, which is fine by you. The longer you can avoid Cole, the better.

Unfortunately, he’s staying in your house, down the hall in the guest room. So avoiding him is not entirely feasible, as you learn later that night. The house is dark and quiet, everyone allegedly sleeping, when you creep down the hall and slide through the back door, planning on sitting and watching the stars for a little bit. Insomnia’s been your friend for years and you’ve learned to just go with the sleepless nights, to try and make them as bearable and relaxing as possible. Sometimes you’ll manage to catch a few hours of sleep if you’re in a different location and your parents have definitely

found you curled up on the couch outside during the summer more often than not.

You’re not expecting to find Cole sprawled out on the couch when you get outside though.

“Oh!” You gasp before you can help yourself, before you can slip back inside.

Cole turns and shoots you a warm smile. “Hey, didn’t think I was going to have company,” he says, shifting so he’s not manspreading as much.

You wrap your arms around your chest and shrug a bit. “Insomnia,” you explain even though you don’t have to. “I was hoping some fresh air would help.”

“Cool,” Cole nods and then winces. “Not cool that you have insomnia. ‘Cause I’m sure that sucks. But, uh, cool that the fresh air might help? That doesn’t really make sense either.”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest and you shake your head. “You’re spending too much time with my brother, you’re going to turn into a yapper too,” you hear the affection that’s leeched into your tone and you bite your lip before you can say anything else.

“That ship’s sailed,” Cole laughs. “You can sit, I don’t want to get in the way of your routine or whatever.”

He shifts more to the side of the couch and you chew on the inside of your cheek briefly before taking a seat at the other end of the couch, propping your feet up on the coffee table. Your neon pink toenails glow in the moonlight and you wish you’d put on a pair of socks.

“I don’t really have a routine,” you sigh, pulling your sweatshirt sleeves down over your hands and curling them into fists. “Just kind of sit out here and contemplate life until I pass out or my mom gets breakfast started.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Cole nod and you wonder why he’s outside in the middle of the night but you were born with a brain to mouth filter, unlike Trevor, so you don’t ask. There’s a light breeze, so the pool water ripples and you watch it, zoning out until Cole speaks and startles you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?” You squint at him elegantly, having completely missed what he said.

Cole laughs a little and his smile feels too soft for this late at night. “I was saying, do you have a plus one for all of your weddings this summer?”

God. Why is he bringing this up again?

Your stomach twists and you nod reluctantly. “Yeah. The ‘and Guest’ has been like taking a bullet to the chest every time I get an invitation and remember I have no boyfriend to speak of.”

The joke doesn’t come out quite as light as you meant it.

“What if you did?” Cole asks, turning so he can face you. Your brow furrows again and - dammit, Trevor - your hands fly up to your face to smooth out the wrinkles. Cole continues, “like, I could be your plus one.”

“You have nothing better to do this summer?” You blurt out, regretting it immediately. It sounds rude and you’d love to spend at least four guaranteed days with him.

Cole shrugs, still grinning. “Tell me when the weddings are and I’ll tell you if I have plans,” he says. “I like weddings. They’re fun, especially when you’re just a guest with no responsibilities.”

“Um,” you start ticking the dates off on your fingers, “one’s June eighth, then there’s June 29th, July 14th, and the last one’s August 3rd.” You pause. “The June 29th one is down in Alabama, but the other three are here, in Connecticut.”

There’s nothing but the sound of crickets and the water hitting the side of the pool while Cole looks up and to the left, clearly running through his mental schedule. You resist the urge to gnaw on your thumbnail. Oh my god, this is awful. Why the fuck are you even discussing this with him?

“Count me in,” Cole says and even though you hear him perfectly, your response is a very eloquent, “huh?”

“I’m in,” Cole repeats. “I’ll be your wedding plus one, Noodle.”

That fucking nickname.

But wait.

Cole’s agreeing - volunteering - to be your plus one.

“All four?” You raise an eyebrow skeptically.

He nods. “All four. We’re doing Europe in May, but otherwise I was just gonna spend the summer bouncing between cities to see my family and stuff. I can do that and still be your date for the weddings.”

The fact that he’s volunteering is throwing you off. You rub a hand over your forehead, feet falling to the deck as you lean in, a serious frown on your face. “Like, I appreciate the offer, Cole, I really do,” you pause, chew at your lower lip. Cole’s gaze flickers down and you ignore the burst of heat low in your stomach. Do not even go there.

“But, um, isn’t it going to be annoying, if people come up to you?” It’s a flimsy excuse and Cole sees past it easily.

“I don’t think I’m that recognizable down in Alabama or even up here, unless I’m with Z and Drysy,” he laughs, self-aware and self-deprecating. “I’d like to be your date.”

“I, um,” you have no more excuses. The little devil on your shoulder is screaming at you to take advantage of the time with Cole, to use it to maybe make a real move. “Okay, yeah. That would be nice.”

Cole knocks his knee against yours and a spark shoots over your skin. “Don’t sound so excited,” he teases. “I’m a great date.”

That’s what you’re worried about.

——

The rest of the week passes without mention of the weddings or Cole being your date - you don’t even know if he told Trevor, but you’re betting he hasn’t.

Jamie joins the family for a couple of days and you spend the back half of the week trying to avoid being tossed into the pool every time you have the misfortune of wandering out into the backyard while your brother and his friends are out there.

They go out every night, catching up since they’re spread across the country for the season, and you’re called upon more than once for a pick-up, hauling their drunk asses back home while they act stupid in the backseat.

Cole never mentions the weddings and before you know it, it’s May and the house is quiet again because the trio is off to Europe for a couple of weeks. As crazy loud as the house was before, it feels even quieter now and it’s a little unnerving. You end up outside more often than not, skimming your feet through the pool water now that it’s warmer, thinking about Cole too much.

As if you manifested him, your phone lights up with a text from him. You tap at the screen and smile when you see a selfie of the three of them, cheesing with a gorgeous view of Prague in the background.

‘proof of life, but gonna shove z off a cliff if he asks one more would you rather….’ is the attached message and it makes you laugh out loud, the sound echoing around the backyard.

‘now you know how i felt on all those childhood road trips 😂’ you reply, sliding your phone into your sweatshirt pocket, quietly enjoying the fizz of excitement that Cole’s attention provides.

It’s almost too late to back out of the wedding date offer, not that you really want to, but you’re so nervous to slip up and say something while spending so much time with him. Especially after your friends have asked who you’re bringing as your plus one, curious since you haven’t dated anyone seriously in nearly a year. You really regret RSVPing to your cousin’s wedding with the plus one, your aunt was almost immediately on the phone with your mom, asking all about him even though she didn’t have a name.

That of course opened you up to the conversation with your mom, where she was very surprised when you told her Cole is going to be your date.

“He, um, asked,” you offer her an explanation when she asks, technically the truth.

She pins you with that classic mom look, the one that says she knows there’s more to the story than you’re letting on, but mercifully doesn’t say anything else. She just nods and hums and says, “well, Cole is basically family anyway. It’ll be nice to have him there. You should teach him some of the steps for the Greek dances.”

And that’s that.

But you’re pretty sure she knows that you’re harboring a massive crush on him.

Not that you were overly subtle about it when Trevor first became friends with Cole. But you like to think you’ve managed to maintain some level of chill around him in the past few years.

Your chill is about to be tested in an extreme way.

——

It’s June before you know it and it’s weird to have Cole staying at your house without Trevor also down the hall.

Trevor’s out in California with Dixie. The two of them are back on since he got back from Prague and honestly you can’t keep track of their relationship, so you’re more than happy to ignore it.


Cole comes into town on the seventh, bearing a European tan and souvenirs for you. A handmade candle to join your, frankly obscene, collection and a tiny pocketknife with a fish shaped handle.

You run your fingers over the fish’s scales, overwhelmed by the fact that he even thought of you at all.

“Z bought one and I figured I couldn’t let you be unarmed in the next Zegras sibling battle,” he teases. “They’re like this whole cult thing in Prague apparently.”

“Thanks,” you grin at him genuinely, heat flushing your cheeks. “This was really thoughtful and, um, really handy when I need to give Trev a middle of the night payback haircut.”

After dinner and hanging out with your parents to watch a movie - how fucking sexy - you almost wish you’d told Cole to meet you at the venue. You feel all jumpy in his presence, never having spent this much one on one time with him. Usually Trevor and a whole host of other NHL players are a buffer.

“What time do we have to leave tomorrow?” Cole appears in your bedroom doorway, arms crossed over his chest, shoulder leaning on the door jamb.

Fuck that’s so hot.

“Oh, um, ceremony’s at 4, so like 3ish? I guess?” You twist the ends of your hair around your fingers and then force yourself to stop.

“Sounds good,” he smiles at you, winks. “Get some beauty sleep, Noodle. Not that you need it.”

The whiplash between your nickname and the compliment has your head spinning for the better part of an hour and you don’t know what to make of any of it.

Somehow you manage to sleep and the next morning is spent getting your makeup sorted out and begging your mom to help you fix your hair. It’s nearly three by the time you’re done and Cole is hanging out with your dad in the kitchen, discussing hockey, of course.

“Okay, ready to go?” You grab up your car keys, knowing Cole will just end up fighting you for them. He doesn’t respond and you look up, heart pounding when you see the way his jaw is slightly dropped and his eyes are a little glazed over. “Um, everything okay?”

Your voice trembles and Cole shakes his head, clearing the fog. “Sorry, yeah, sorry. Just, you look really good,” he says quickly.

“Thanks,” you smooth your hands over your hips, barely able to make eye contact. “Ready?”

Cole nods and follows you out of the house, fights you for the car keys and wins. You slink off to the passenger side, secretly happy that you don’t have to make the drive. You’d much rather be a passenger princess.

The drive is normal enough, with Cole telling you all the non-parent friendly details of the European adventure and you filling him in on just exactly whose wedding you’re going to - your sorority best friend, coincidentally raised in Connecticut too before going to Alabama for college.

Even though you know nearly all of the guests, it’s nice to have Cole at your side when you walk into the venue. He acts a little bit like armor, keeping you from the bouts of social anxiety that you’re prone to. A couple of the guys recognize him, but for the most part it’s low key.

Until he introduces himself as, “Cole, the boyfriend,” and your entire brain becomes the blue screen of death.

You blink at him stupidly for too long and Cole’s face falls into a look of concern. He pulls you by the wrist to a corner of the room and stands so he’s blocking you from the rest of the reception.

“Hey,” he ducks his head a little to maintain eye contact, “are you okay? Did I say something wrong? I thought - well, wasn’t the point of this, of me coming to like stop people thinking you’re single?”

As he speaks, he looks more uncertain and you’re growing more and more horrified. This was a miscommunication of epic proportions.

“No, oh my god,” you whisper, palms sweating. “I didn’t…that wasn’t…I mean, yeah, it sucks to be like the last single girl standing, but I would never have asked you to be my fake boyfriend!”

“You didn’t ask, not really. I offered,” Cole replies, leaning in slightly, enveloping you in the scent of his cologne and your own body wash that he must’ve used in the shower this morning. It makes your head spin a little. “Jesus, Noodle. I should’ve talked to you about it.”

“I…oh my god, Cole. This is so stupid,” you start to giggle, hysteria bubbling up in your stomach. “We need to go correct the narrative before -“

A group of your sorority sisters descend on you in the corner, squealing about meeting your new boyfriend, introducing themselves and congratulating you in hushed whispers on what a cutie he is.

“That happens,” you finish your sentence in a muttered aside to Cole once the girls are gone.

He has the slightly shellshocked look most people have after they’ve been spun around in the sorority girl vortex and you can’t help but let out a reluctant giggle. He just looks so damn confused, it’s beyond endearing.

“Just…don’t say anything else and I’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow,” you sigh. “Maybe you should skip the other weddings too.”

Cole shakes his head, a strange smile on his face. “What if we just, you know, play along? Like, I already thought I was pretending to be your boyfriend, why not have some fun with it?”

Because playing pretend might actually kill you, you think. But you find yourself nodding anyway, agreeing to Cole’s suggestion. And the next thing you know, he’s got his hands on your hips and your arms are around his neck, swaying in a slow dance with the rest of the couples on the floor. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, Cole’s hands a searing heat on your hips.

Your gaze keeps flickering up to his chin and lips, watching the way he half-smiles every time he catches you looking.

“So, um,” you murmur, trying to break some of the tension that probably only you feel, “what exactly were you going to tell people, when they asked about our re-relationship?” You stumble over the word. “Since we never discussed it.”

Cole’s fingers flex on your hips and you think you might stop breathing momentarily. He chuckles and his smile is sheepish now. “I was just gonna go with the truth? Most of it, anyway. We’ve been friends because of Z for years and it just…evolved.”

“Evolved,” you repeat quietly. “Friends to lovers, huh?”

His eyes widen slightly and you kick yourself mentally for saying the word ‘lovers.’

Before you can word vomit some backtracking, Cole nods. “Yeah, friends to lovers, I guess.”

The slow song ends and Cole’s hands don’t move. You try not to read into it - he’s pretending, it’s all just pretend - but by the time you’re in the car on the way home, you’re convinced that your poor heart won’t make it to the end of the summer.

——-

Cole flies out the next afternoon, off to spend some time with his family in Wisconsin. He texts you nearly every day though, which is new.

You try to tell yourself that you’re just building a cover, in case, what? One of your friends steals your phone to try and prove you’re actually in a relationship?

By the time your flight lands in Alabama on the 28th, your nerves are a little frazzled and you’re more in love with Cole than you’ve ever been, thanks to the constant texting and random FaceTime calls. His flight lands thirty minutes after yours, coming from Philly where he was hanging out with Trevor and Jamie, so you wait around the airport to Uber to the hotel together.

“Hey, Noodle!” He greets you with a big hug, swinging you around a little, making you laugh.

“Hey,” you’re still giggling when he puts you down, barely able to protest when he grabs the handle of your suitcase and wheels it out to the curb. “I could’ve gotten that.”

“I know,” he winks, “but what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you pull your own suitcase?”

Your lips tilt up in a smile, teeth biting down on your tongue to stop the reminder that this is all fake from spilling out.

“A terrible one, I guess,” you joke instead, climbing into the Uber. “How’s Trevor after the latest Dixie debacle?”

“They’re back together,” Cole informs you on a delighted, if exasperated laugh. “At least, they were when I was at the airport.”

“Jesus,” you roll your eyes. “When we break up, promise me it won’t be as dramatic as they are.”

Cole coughs suddenly and you look up from your phone in concern. He waves you off, face a little red. Sounding slightly strangled, he says, “sure, yeah, no dramatic breakup for us.”

“Cool, now let me show you this Tik Tok,” you grin, shoving your phone in his face. “It’s a compilation of all your on-ice falls last season.”

“Wow,” Cole deadpans. “That’s so nice of you to show me.”

You spend the rest of the car ride in your little sister mode, being annoying and showing him the random Tik Tok edits you find of him and Trevor. You’re both laughing uncontrollably as you pile out of the car and into the hotel, but the laughter stops when you try to check in.

“What?” You repeat incredulously. “How do you lose a reservation?”

The young guy at the counter, he can’t be much older than you or Cole, winces at the sharp bite of your tone. “I’m so sorry. But like I said, we have Mr. Caufield’s reservation, but can’t find yours, Ms. Zegras,” he winces again. “It’s a busy weekend for the hotel, we have a dental conference happening.”

“Okay, but I literally paid for my hotel room weeks ago!” You scroll through your email for the confirmation and wave it in the guy’s face when you find it. “Am I getting a refund or what?”

You can hear Cole sniggering behind you, your reputation as the bossy Zegras sibling precedes you.

“We can do a partial -“

“No way,” you cut him off, feeling slightly bad. “I need a room for the next two nights and a partial refund is not going to cut it if I have to go find a different hotel.”

“Little Z,” Cole draws your attention and when you look over your shoulder at him, he’s smirking a little. “Why don’t you stop harassing the nice man and we’ll just share my room.”

“Share…” you trail off and you must look horrified or something because Cole rushes to continue.

“It’ll be like two summers ago when Z booked that studio Air BnB and we all had to sleep in one room,” he shrugs. “It’s only two nights and neither of us snore like your brother does.”

“I…” you really have no excuse, because if this stupid hotel doesn’t have another room for you, you’re pretty much fucked. “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

Cole finishes checking in and somehow manages to swing an entire refund for you, probably because he’s being nice to the guy and not freaking out on him.

You just hope there’s two beds in the room.

——

There’s one bed in the room.

And you’re trying not to show your internal struggle, going about your business of unpacking your suitcase and hanging up your dress so the wrinkles can release.

Neither of you mention the elephant in the room while you get ready for the welcome dinner. Cole’s hand finds your lower back while you walk into the restaurant and it takes all of your effort not to shiver in pleasure at his touch. You let yourself lean into him slightly, telling yourself it’s okay to show some physical affection since you’re telling everyone you’re dating.

He taps his fingers against your lower back absently as you chat with a few of your friends, never straying far from your side. When you finish your drink, he promptly delivers you another one, making your friends whisper excitedly about what a gentleman he is.

You’re grateful that you discussed a general idea of how your relationship happened because otherwise you’d be caught off guard when one of the bridesmaids asks you how you and Cole started dating, considering you’ve never mentioned him before.

“Oh,” you murmur, looking across the room where Cole’s chatting with a couple of the groomsmen, “well, he’s friends with Trevor, so I’ve known him for years. Things just kind of…evolved.”

“Y’all are the cutest,” she gushes. “Keep a hold on him and maybe the next Delta Nu wedding will be yours?”

You choke on air and manage to excuse yourself to the bathroom without dying. The bathroom is empty, thank God, so you get a chance to breathe and compose yourself. It’s too easy to get wrapped up in Cole’s attention, in his gentle touches and soft smiles, and it’s getting harder and harder to remember that this is all pretend.

There’s a knock on the door and then Cole’s voice calling your name. “You okay? I saw you run off…”

“I’m fine,” you call back, unlocking the door and pulling it open. He’s got a concerned frown on his face. “Just, um, you know,” you wave a hand over your shoulder, “had to use the little girls’ room.”

Your whole body cringes and Cole laughs, “is that a Mama Z saying? ‘Cause it sounds like her.”

“Yes, exactly,” you sigh, grabbing onto the opportunity to blame your mom, “she says it all the time. So weird.”

Cole’s smile is knowing, but he doesn’t say anything. He just holds his hand out for you and asks, “want to rejoin the party? Or head back to the hotel? It’s getting kind of late.”

You stare at his hand for a second before taking it, heart skipping a beat when he laces his fingers with yours, an undeniably couple-y thing to do. “Maybe one more drink?” You suggest, letting your smile turn a little sly. “And then we’d probably better call it a night since someone will need his beauty sleep.”

It’s easier to tease him, to stay in that annoying little sister zone, than to examine how your entire body reacts to the feeling of his hand around yours.

Cole laughs and squeezes your hand, letting your good-natured teasing roll over him. “Well, we know it’s definitely not you that needs the beauty sleep,” he says, the compliment genuine and surprising enough that you stumble a little in your heels, forcing Cole’s grip on your hand to tighten.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night, not until you’re back in the hotel lobby and heading for the elevator. Your fingers tingle from his touch and you’d truthfully forgotten about the single bed until it’s right in front of your face again.

“Which side do you want?” Cole asks, unbuttoning his cuffs.

“Hmm?” You blink at him. “Oh, I’ll take the floor or something, it’s your room.” The thought is disgusting, but you’ll take a couple of blankets and it’ll be fine. Anything other than sharing the bed with him.

He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Seriously? No chance I’m letting you sleep on the floor. It’s a Queen, plenty of room for us both.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless you kick in your sleep or something?”

“No,” you laugh faintly. “I don’t kick. I just…I’m fine on the floor. We really don’t have to share.”

“Noodle,” Cole grins, undoing his belt. Fuck, Christ on a cracker, you’re trying so hard to not stare at his hands. This is ridiculous. “I don’t have cooties. We can share a bed like adults.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire, but you really have no room to argue, so you reluctantly agree and grab your toiletry case and pajamas, heading for the bathroom. You change quickly, thanking past you for packing sweats and an old Anaheim tee since you like to keep your hotel rooms cold. While you wash your face and brush your teeth, you give yourself a pep talk, a reminder that you’ll stay on your side of the bed and he’ll stay on his and it doesn’t mean anything.

Cole’s in his own sweats and tee when you get out of the bathroom. “I lowered the a/c to 65, is that cool?” He asks, twirling his toothbrush in between his fingers. “I remember you freaked on Z when he had the temperature set to 70 the other day.”

“That’s perfect,” you reply, tossing your toiletry bag on top of your suitcase and climbing into bed, the right side since it’s farther away from the door. You yank the covers up over your body, curling up into a little ball as far away from Cole’s side of the bed as possible. He already has a Friends rerun playing on the TV, so you zone out for a bit and let the familiar characters distract you.

When he’s done in the bathroom, Cole gets into bed too, stretching out on top of the covers. “We can change the channel, if you want?” He offers.

You shake your head. “Friends is good. So, how’s the rest of your summer been, when you’re not playing fake boyfriend?” You ask, turning onto your side so you can look at him. If you act normal, everything will be normal.

“It’s been good,” he replies, tucking one hand behind his head. You try not to focus on the way his bicep pops. “I’m going to head back out to Wisconsin after this, spend some more time with my family. Then I’ll be in Jersey the week before the next wedding, you should come hang out.”

You snort. “If Trev’s there, Quinn will like, have me blacklisted from the entire state. We’re not allowed to be together because we’re and I quote ‘more annoying than two humans have any reasonable right to be.’”

Cole’s grin is crooked and you want to press your fingers against the curve of his lips. “Yeah, Quinny hates it when you and Z are doing your sibling comedy show bullshit,” he laughs. “But it’s fucking hilarious.”

“Thank you, I’m glad someone appreciates our entertainment,” you reply, fluttering your lashes at him. “But if it’s just Jack and Lukey, maybe I’ll come out for dinner or something one day.”

You yawn and close your eyes, still maintaining a quiet conversation with Cole, the laugh track from the TV filling the brief silences.

The next morning, you’re surprised to find that you wake up rested and still on your side of the bed, albeit with your arm stretched out to Cole’s side, fingers just inches away from touching him. He’s snoring faintly and you laugh under your breath, taking the opportunity to get yourself out of bed and ready to go. You’d both slept in later than you anticipated, so you’ll have to start getting ready sooner rather than later.

It’s getting easier to be alone with Cole, conversations flow and if you’re distracted with your hair and make-up, you don’t think too much about how good he looks in his suit.

“Hey,” you poke your head into the bathroom, sheepish, “can you zip me up?”

Cole dries his hands on a towel and nods, “yeah, no problem.” His fingers are cool when they brush against your bare skin and you shiver, nipples tightening painfully. The zipper sounds impossibly loud in the room, blood rushing in your ears.

“Thanks,” you murmur and when you turn around, you’re mildly surprised to see the tips of Cole’s ears going pink. You’re pretty sure he can’t see your nipples through the fabric of your dress, but you glance down anyway to double check.

“You look beautiful,” Cole comments, looking you over. “I think I’m the luckiest guy at the wedding.”

“Not the groom?” You joke, heart pounding.

“Nah,” Cole’s smile is your favorite one, “definitely me.”

——

“I can’t believe I caught the bouquet,” you groan, holding the surprisingly heavy bundle like a baby in your arms.

“I can’t believe you almost spiked it to the ground when you caught it,” Cole unlocks the hotel room door and holds it open for you.

You shrug, kicking your heels off. “It surprised me!”

“I thought the little redhead was going to tackle you to the ground for it,” Cole laughs, toeing off his own shoes and undoing his tie. The ends hang loose over his chest and your alcohol hazy brain wants you to grab them and pull him into a kiss.

“Lola,” you reply, shaking your head like an Etch-a-Sketch to get rid of that thought and putting the bouquet on top of the dresser. “She’s been with her boyfriend since they were fourteen and she’s getting antsy.”

You both start getting changed without regard for the other person, tired and sore from dancing and scream-singing to Taylor Swift all night. You can still feel the impression of Cole’s hands on your body as you slow danced to ‘Lover.’ It really is so different getting to slow dance at a wedding with someone instead of sneaking off to the bathroom or watching from the sidelines.

“Jesus,” Cole snorts, voice muffled as he pulls his shirt on over his head. His hair sticks up in all directions when his head pops through the neck hole. “No one needs to get married before twenty-five.”

You nod your agreement, crawling into bed with a full face of makeup. You’ll regret it in the morning, but you just can’t be bothered right now. Not with the way your eyelids feel heavier and heavier with each blink. “She’s a child bride,” you mumble. “I wanna do stuff before I get married. Travel, get my Masters, get a puppy…”

Cole laugh is too close to your ear and you blink one eye open to see his face, just inches from yours.

“What kind of puppy?” He asks and you can smell the faint alcohol on his breath. It’s not unpleasant.

“A miniature dachshund,” you reply. “Gonna name him Quinn, just to piss off Quinny.”

Cole’s laugh is the last thing you’re aware of before falling asleep.

——-

You wake up with a dry mouth, a slight headache, and something hard pressed against your chest. It takes a minute in the dark room to realize what’s going on, but you finally recognize Cole’s back pressed to your chest, his ass snug against your hips.

Your leg is trapped in between his, the thick muscles keeping you locked in place.

His arm is over yours where it rests on his waist, his hand holding yours against his stomach.

Your cheek is pressed to the back of his shoulder, his heartbeat steady.

A quick spike of panic floods your veins, but then it dissipates just as quickly. He’s still asleep, he never has to know how tightly packed together you are. But there’s no way to disentangle your body without waking him up, so you sigh and give an experimental wiggle of your leg, trying to get it free.

Cole grumbles softly in his sleep, grips you tighter.

It’s useless to try and escape and sleep is already grabbing hold of you again, the warmth of Cole’s body relaxing you back into the mattress.

A few more hours of sleep couldn’t hurt.

You snuggle against him, your nose brushing his shoulder blade, and close your eyes, pretending.

———

When you wake up again, for good this time, you’re on your opposite side and Cole is gone. His side of the bed is still warm, though. You roll onto your back and scrub a hand over your face, trying to forget the feeling of your body wrapped around his.

The dull ache between your legs is making that really difficult.

The hotel room door opens and Cole walks in, two cups of coffee in his hands. “Oh!” He smiles when he sees you, so maybe you rolled away from him in the middle of the night and he didn’t wake up with you wrapped around him like an octopus. “Morning, I went and got coffees, figured we could use them. I didn’t want to wake you since you looked so peaceful and quiet,” he smirks and you roll your eyes, “but you drink an iced flat white, right?”

“Right,” you reply faintly, taking the proffered coffee. You draw your knees up to your chest and take a fortifying sip. The caffeine goes straight to your brain and you feel better immediately.

“So, how’d you sleep?” He asks, dropping down onto the mattress.

You squint at him, trying to gauge his tone. His face is unreadable. “Good,” you venture carefully. “Um, slept right through the night.”

Cole nods. “Yeah, me too. I’ll still probably manage another couple of hours on the flight to Wisconsin.”

He’s not acting any weirder than usual so you figure you’re in the clear. It gives you permission to act normally too, so you make small talk while you both pack up your suitcases.

“Should I toss this or bring it home with me?” You ask, lifting the bouquet up.

“Bring it home,” Cole nudges your foot with his. “Make sure you remember that you’re supposed to get married next.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I think we can count that out.” But you put the bouquet on top of your carry-on tote anyway, fingers tracing over the soft rose petals.

———

You take your own trip to the lake for Fourth of July with your girlfriends, getting the Spanish Inquisition about Cole and why you never mention him, why you never post him.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t bother you and you find that your answers are more honest than you’d expect in the situation.

You don’t mention him because you want to keep him to yourself. You don’t want everyone to know about your inside jokes and the smiles that you’re pretty sure are yours alone. You don’t want everyone to know about the way your skin tingles when he touches you, how you can feel the phantom touch of his hands long after they’re gone from your lower back or your arm or the back of your neck.

You don’t post pictures of him because you only have a handful of drunken selfies, blurry and out of focus.

You don’t mention him because it’s going to break your heart to have to go back to being just friends at the end of the summer and you won’t get to pretend that any of this is real.

——

You do end up spending a day in Jersey and unfortunately for Quinn, Trevor also pops up unexpectedly.

“Noodle!” He cheers when he sees you, lounging on Jack and Luke’s couch. He draws you into a huge, smothering hug and you fight him, pinching his sides to get him to let go.

“Oh my god,” you whine, pushing him away. “It’s like you didn’t just see me.”

“It’s been more than a month, you dweeb,” he retorts, flopping down next to Quinn and stealing a handful of popcorn. Quinn shoots him a dirty look and yanks his snack away. “You’ve been wedding hopping all summer.”

“It’s been two,” you sigh. “And at least I haven’t been in the Dixie Tik Tok fame vortex.”

Luckily for you, that opens Trevor up to being chirped by all three Hughes brothers and Cole. You settle back into the couch, feet tucked up under you while you watch the five guys take potshots at each other.

Trevor defends himself and turns the heat on Cole, shouting about how he’s hiding a secret girlfriend. Your stomach sinks to your feel and you feel hot and then cold all over.

Cole scoffs. “Just because I didn’t want to flirt with a couple of girls at the bar doesn’t mean I’m hiding a secret girlfriend,” he mutters.

“But there’s a girl involved?” Jack teases.

You think you’re going to throw up.

“No, no girl,” Cole says quickly, too quickly.

“There’s definitely a girl,” Quinn laughs. “Look how red he’s turning.”

“Dude‘s been so cagey about his plans,” Trevor says, taking more popcorn from Quinn. “Can’t keep track of him some weekends.”

Even though none of them are paying attention to you, too busy trying to get information out of Cole, you slip your phone from your pocket and look at the black screen. “Oh, I’m gonna head out,”

you announce, getting to your feet. “Long drive back to Connecticut.”

It’s a little unnerving when five sets of eyes all land on you.

“I just got here,” Trevor complains.

“Okay, so, I know this is a difficult concept for you to understand,” you say slowly, “but my life doesn’t revolve around you.”

Trevor scowls at you and flips you off, a gesture you return before waving good-bye and heading for the door. Cole is a few steps behind you, catching your wrist just before you open the door.

“Hey,” he rubs at the back of his head with his free hand, “that was…there’s no…”

He’s at a loss for words and you don’t really know what to say. He doesn’t owe you an explanation.

“It’s fine, it’s whatever, Cole,” you manage a small smile. “Have fun with the guys.”

Cole’s eyebrows draw together and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw working briefly. You wait.

“I’ll see you on Sunday,” he says eventually. “Let me know what time I have to pick you up.”

“I’ll text you,” you nod, your wrist warm where his fingers were gripping it.

You step out of the condo and shut the door behind you, of course he’s got some girl that he sees. Just because he’s been your pity date to a few weddings doesn’t mean anything. You’d be smarter to remember that.

——-

Wedding three of four and you’re exhausted of them.

Or maybe you’re exhausted of pretending that you don’t care if Cole sees other girls while he’s got his arm wrapped around your shoulder and is introducing himself as your boyfriend, as if that’s his life’s crowning achievement and not his professional hockey career.

You chew crankily on a piece of bread, too stuck in your own thoughts to notice Cole returning to his seat from the bar.

“Someone kick your hypothetically puppy?” He jokes, sliding a glass of wine in front of you. “Do I have to defend puppy Quinn’s honor?”

“No,” you rearrange your features into a more neutral expression. Or what you hope is a neutral expression. “I just was thinking.”

“Always dangerous,” Cole replies, knocking his knee against yours. You can’t tell if it was an accident or not. You don’t know if you want it to be an accident or not.

Without really intending on it, you ask, “where do the guys think you are this weekend?” And then almost immediately, you wince and say, “you don’t have to answer that, Christ, I’m sorry.”

The stupid chirping in Jersey has clearly burrowed its way into your brain and won’t let go and you feel like an asshole.

“Uh, on my way back to Montreal, actually,” he admits, a strange expression on his face. “Told the guys I was gonna drive up, just to like check on my place.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod, hoping that he would’ve told them that he was with you. But it’s stupid because you’re not really dating.

Cole studies your face and you avoid making eye contact, choosing to knock back half of your glass of wine.

“Want to dance?” He asks you quietly, resting his hand, palm up, on the table in front of you.

“Yeah, I do,” you sigh, putting your hand in his, heart clenching when he laces his fingers with yours again. He pulls you to your feet and has you laughing and dancing halfway through the song. Cole twirls you around, catching you around the waist before he dips you dramatically.

The melancholy is long gone by the time you’re back in the car to make the quick drive home.

“I can’t believe you caught the stupid garter,” your laugh is too loud, soaked in alcohol. You stretch the garter between your fingers, aiming it at the windshield like a slingshot but never releasing it. “What are the freaking odds?”

“A million to one,” Cole laughs. “Isn’t it a thing? Like the person who catches the bouquet marries the person who catches the garter?”

“I think that’s only if it’s at the same wedding,” you reply, leaning your head against the glass. “Hey, Cole?”

“Yeah, Noodle?”

“Thanks for being my wedding date this summer,” you sigh. “I know it’s probably not what you really wanted to spend your time doing, but it’s been so much fun. You’re the best fake boyfriend and real friend a girl could ask for.”

You close your eyes, but can hear the smile in Cole’s voice when he replies, “anything for you.”

——-

“What are you doing here?” Trevor pulls open the front door, pushing you out of the way with the other hand.

“Jesus, Trev,” you snap, kicking at his shin. You smile at Cole, “please, welcome to the Zegras siblings show, refreshments are in the kitchen.”

Cole skirts past the two of you and closes the door behind him, smirking. “I’m early, I know,” he shrugs a little. “Figured I’d hang out while you guys get ready.”

Trevor’s eyes are narrowed and he’s got his palm in the middle of your forehead, keeping you at arm’s distance. “Dude, we’ve got our cousin’s wedding today. Did I double book?”

“No,” you roll your eyes and smack Trevor’s hand away, stepping to the side. “Did you ever think Cole’s here to see me?”

“Why would he be here to see you?” Trevor crosses his arms over his chest, wrinkling his button down.

“He’s my date for the wedding,” you shrug casually, dropping the bomb and heading for the kitchen. You pull a pair of Spindrift cans from the fridge and toss one to Cole. He catches it easily.

Trevor’s eyes bug out of his head and you laugh, enjoying his dramatics. “He’s your date?” He asks incredulously, gaze ping-ponging between the two of you. “What the fuck?”

Cole nods, “yeah, I’ve been taking Noodle to all her weddings this summer.”

Trevor’s jaw drops. And then it snaps shut and his eyes narrow angrily. “Are you fucking dating my sister? Without talking to me about it?”

“Oh calm down,” you snatch a throw pillow off the couch and whack Trevor in the stomach with it. “Not that who I date is your business, but Cole’s been pretending to be my boyfriend, just to like, keep everyone from being all ‘oh, look at the poor sad single girl.’”

“You’re fake dating?” Trevor looks stunned. “Dude, you and mom need to stop watching all those Hallmark movies.” He shakes his head and ruffles his hair.

“Yeah, fake dating,” Cole repeats, twisting the can in his hands. “It’s been fun.”

“You’re both insane if you think fake dating at a family wedding is a good idea,” Trevor cackles. “But good fucking luck and don’t even think about actually dating my sister, asshole.”

He turns on his heel and heads up to his room, leaving you and Cole alone with his parting words. You scoff and give Cole a tiny smile. “Still time to back out, if you don’t want to deal with the extended Zegras clan.”

“I’m all in, Noodle,” he reassures you and for once, the childhood nickname doesn’t grate on your nerves like it usually does.

“Oh,” your cheeks hurt from the size of your smile. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

——-

The warning turns out to be unnecessary.

Cole fits in stupidly well with your extended family, charming aunts left and right, discussing golf and hockey with your uncles. Hell, even your younger cousins are having fun hanging out with him.

“This is ridiculous,” you grumble to your cousin, unable to hide the faint smile on your face.

She laughs and bumps your hip with hers, “aren’t you supposed to want your boyfriend to get along with your family?”

You hum, “right. Yeah, definitely want Cole to get along with the fam.”

“Bold move, bringing him to the wedding,” she says idly. You’re quiet as you watch Cole and Trevor do some stupid made up dance routine to ‘Shake it Off,’ one that involves literally so much ass shaking.

“He assured me he could handle it,” you reply, the music changing to a familiar rhythm, all of your Greek relatives transitioning into a circle for the traditional wedding dances. You join the circle and end up between Trevor and Cole, holding their hands with yours. You barely know the steps, but neither do Trevor and Cole, so you’re all tripping over each other trying to keep up with the fast music and your relatives.

“This is crazy,” Cole shouts on a laugh, his hand sweaty in yours.

“I told you!” You laugh back, stepping on Trevor’s foot and nearly falling to the ground. Trevor keeps you upright with his side, sort of pushing you back onto your feet, and you’re off for another circle around the dance floor.

The DJ plays two more songs and goes back to the popular hits, leaving you, Cole, and Trevor sweaty and out of breath as you stumble towards the bar. “Fuck,” Trevor mutters, pushing his hair off his face and ordering three beers, “I don’t think I’ve even attempted those dances since I was a kid.”

“And you still suck just as much,” you tease, taking a sip of your beer.

“I’m not the dumb fuck that almost took down the whole group,” Trevor shoots back good-naturedly.

Cole holds up his hands, “children, children, this is a day of love. No fighting.”

You hold up your own hands in a sign of surrender. Trevor salutes Cole with his beer bottle. “I’m gonna go see a man about a horse,” he says, dropping the old-fashioned saying like it’s a normal thing to say.

Cole squints after him as he walks away. “What the fuck does that mean?” He asks you, casually guiding you off to the side of the bar where it’s just a little bit quieter.

“He’s going to find our dad and see if he’s got any leftovers from dinner that he can steal,” you laugh. “He’s done it since we were kids, no idea where it started.”

“Fucking weirdo,” Cole laughs too and you know he’ll use that bit of information to make fun of Trevor in the future. You fall into w comfortable silence, sipping at your beers, until Cole nudges the back of your hand with his knuckles. “Did I tell you that you look gorgeous? You look insane in red,” his smile is soft and his cheeks are tinged pink.

Your own face feels hot, pleased that the strategic deployment of your skin-tight red party dress is doing what you wanted it to do. “I’ll always take another compliment, especially if it’s from you,” you reply quietly.

The air in between your bodies crackles, shifting imperceptibly. Cole leans forward and subconsciously, you do too. The noise of the reception fades away and all you can focus on is Cole.

“I wasn’t…” he pauses, rubs his free hand over his chin. “I should’ve said something earlier or waited, I don’t know. Fuck, I’m not explaining myself well.”

Your heart feels like it’s stopped beating in your chest, your lungs frozen as you hold your breath, waiting for Cole to spit out whatever he’s trying to say. What you hope he’s trying to say.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, after a few heartbeats’ worth of silence and you’re pretty sure you misheard him.

“What?” You ask stupidly.

Cole’s smile grows and he steps even closer to you. “I would very much like to kiss you, can I?”

You can only nod, blood rushing in your ears and your heart pounding in your chest. Cole’s free hand comes up to cup your cheek and his thumb brushes over your cheekbone and the next thing you know, his lips are slotted over yours and your only thought is that Cole Caufield is actually kissing you.

A soft little whimper leaves your mouth, swallowed up by Cole’s lips and you can feel him smile, his fingers sliding into your hair to pull your face closer to his. A frisson of pleasure sparks low in your stomach, heat pooling between your legs.

Your mouth falls open, giving him access to slide his tongue into your mouth and the kiss gets a little messy, teeth and tongue and your free hand lands on Cole’s chest, fingers curling around the lapel of his jacket, crushing the fabric and pulling him in.

Eventually, you get dizzy - from lack of oxygen or from Cole’s kiss, who’s to say? - and you pull back slightly, breathing hard. Cole’s forehead rests against yours and he huffs a little laugh against your cheek.

“Um,” you murmur, head spinning.

“I’ve wanted to do that,” Cole says quietly, his fingers still buried in your hair, “for months.”

A giggle bubbles out of your chest and you nod, bumping Cole’s nose with yours. “I’ve wanted you to do that for years,” you confess, equally as quiet.

“Cool,” Cole presses his lips to yours again, a softer, sweeter kiss. “Can I take you on a date?”

“I’m all out of weddings for the summer,” you tease, leaning back against the wall and letting Cole press his hand against the wall next to your head.

“I think we’ll be able to figure something out,” his smile is contagious and you can’t believe that this is really happening.

——-

“Here lies Trevor Zegras’s sanity,” Trevor pronounces loudly, drunkenly, before tossing a handful of grass onto the fire burning away in the fire pit. “It died a week ago when I saw my best friend (“Hey!” Jamie interrupts indignantly.) groping my sweet, innocent baby sister (“Gross!” you yelp, fake gagging.) in my own living room!”

“I may never know peace again,” Trevor continues, ignoring yours and Jamie’s interjections, gesturing wildly with his White Claw. “But thank you all for joining me in memorializing the death of my vision.”

“Oh my god,” you whine, leaning forward to throw the pillow behind your back at Trevor. He bats it out of the air, just nearly missing the fire. “You didn’t even see anything!”

The Hughes brothers and Jamie all snigger when Trevor’s face falls into a sharp expression of suspicion. He squints at you, the effect ruined by the way his stupid polarized sunglasses fall down his forehead, “was there anything to see?”

Cole pinches your ankle where it’s resting on his lap, a warning. You shoot him a winning grin, before turning back to Trevor and deadpanning, “a lady never blows and tells.”

The uproar of noise from your brother and his friends makes you cackle, Cole’s hand around your calf like a brand. He catches your eye and shakes his head at you, smirking. You paste an innocent look on your face and lean in for a kiss while the guys are distracted.

“Stop,” Trevor whines, “my ears are dead now too! My best friend and my sister! Conspiring against me!”

“Okay, Ross Gellar,” you snark, “chill out. And stop sacrificing the grass to the fire pit, Dad’s going to freak out when there’s a bald spot.”

Trevor flops down onto an armchair, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “I’ll just blame you, Noodle,” he teases, holding his hand out for another spiked seltzer. Jack passes him one and takes one for himself.

The backyard is cool, mid-August starting to transition into fall. The guys will be heading back to their corners of the continent in the next few days, but it’s the last hurrah for summer. They’ll spend the night and get in their last bits of ‘guy time’ before the season starts. They do it every year and this year an invitation was graciously extended to you. Aka you tucked yourself up against Cole’s side and flipped Trevor off when he demanded that you leave.

No chance you were missing out on any time with Cole before he heads up to Montreal and you head down to Villanova for grad school. You’ll probably end up see Jamie the most out of any of the guys during the season.

“Can we just talk about the fact that these two were dating all summer under our noses?” Jamie jabs his thumb in your direction, passing around a container of Zyn.

“It wasn’t all summer,” you correct with a shrug. “It’s only been a week.”

For whatever reason, Trevor hadn’t mentioned the fake dating portion of your summer, instead just sending around a blast to the group chat that you and Cole were ‘offending his delicate sensibilities’ by making out in front of him at your cousin’s wedding. The fact that he sent the text literally at the exact moment Cole was biting down on your lower lip to muffle mutual laughter at Trevor’s overdramatic soap opera-esque gasp only makes the story better.

Cole stayed in Connecticut after the wedding, taking you out on the promised date and sneaking into your room every night after the rest of your family had gone to bed.

You’d already booked a flight to Montreal for your fall break while wrapped up in his arms, telling bad jokes in your ear while you tried to remember your credit card number.

It’s only been a week, but it feels like much longer and you’re not ready for the season to start again.

“You’re the secret girl he wouldn’t tell us about all summer,” Quinn comments.

“I didn’t need you fuckers saying anything stupid before I actually asked her out,” Cole defends himself, rubbing his thumb over your ankle bone.

“Who? Us?” Jack cackles, setting off a chain of laughter.

You giggle and lean forward, bending at the waist and angling your knees towards Cole’s chest so you don’t knock yourself in the face. The breeze shifts and blows smoke from the fire pit in your direction so you bury your face in Cole’s shoulder to avoid the smoke stinging your eyes. He tangles his hand in your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp, drawing a contented groan from your throat.

“You two are disgusting and I hate it,” Trevor whines, sunglasses fully over his eyes now even though it’s pitch black beyond the glow of the fire.

“I thought your vision was dead?” You snap back, turning your head so your cheek is pressed to Cole’s shoulder. “Isn’t that why we were all called to this funeral?”

Trevor nods, “right, yeah, almost forgot.” He starts humming ‘Pomp and Circumstance,’ and that’s what ends up killing you. Laughter bubbles out of your chest and soon you’re unable to control the hysterical laughter that has you gasping for air.

The rest of the guys crack up too, leaving Trevor to cut off his humming and snap, “what?”

“That’s the graduation song, you dumbass,” Cole chokes out around laughter.

Trevor shrugs, “who gives a shit? You’re graduating from my best friend to Noodle’s boyfriend, it kind of works.”

The heat radiating from your face has nothing to do with your proximity to the fire pit and everything to do with Trevor’s use of the b-word. It’s been a week, sure you’ve been in love with Cole for years, but you have no desire to scare him off.

“What song are you gonna hum, badly, when I graduate to being your brother-in-law?” Cole teases, keeping his arms around you so you can’t wiggle away and escape.

Without missing a beat, Trevor shoots back, “the Hannah Montana classic, ‘Everybody Makes Mistakes.’”

“God, your entire existence was a mistake,” you groan, enjoying the way Cole’s hand is rubbing up and down your back. Without really noticing, Cole’s managed to manoeuvre your body so you’re sitting on his lap, one arm banded around your stomach to keep you in place. You lean back slightly, your head on Cole’s shoulder and he presses a kiss to your jaw, making you smile.

Trevor flips you off and the conversation shifts again, the guys discussing the upcoming season and the changes they’re all going to be facing on their respective teams.

“Hey,” Cole whispers in your ear, making you shiver. “Insider info, Brock’s proposing to Caroline soon.”

You hum, warm in his arms.

“Think you’d want to be my plus one?” He asks, kissing the side of your neck. “As my real girlfriend, not a fake one.”

“Oh,” you breathe. “Well, I guess I can make that work. We’ll have to get our story straight though.”

Cole laughs against your cheek, “it’ll evolve.”

You turn and press your mouth to his, nipping gently at his lower lip, letting your tongue trace over his teeth. His hand roams up your spine and cups the back of your neck, pulling your face impossibly closer to his. Kissing Cole will never get old.

A sharp whistle draws your attention and one of the guys, you’re too dazed to differentiate their voices, jokes, “get a room!”

Cole bites at your lower lip, sucking it between his teeth. You grin against his mouth, moaning a little just to annoy the guys.

“Shut the fuck up,” the voice is unmistakably your brother’s, “they’re gonna use my room just to piss me off.”

You giggle, the noise swallowed by Cole’s kiss, and make no plans to move from your perch. Based on Cole’s grip on your neck, he has no plans to move either.

Now that he’s yours, after years of crushing, you’re not taking a single second for granted.

[n0tamused]

A/n: I sort of strayed a little with this one I feel like, but thank you sm for the request, and I hope you enjoy this!

Contents: Mortefi x GN!Reader, jealous reader, reader is very stubborn I must say, not proof-read. lemme know what you think!

Words: 3059

It’s suffocating. Uncomfortably warm and slimy. This feeling that roils within your chest and throat, you’re sure you’re about to start feeling sick from the thoughts spiraling within your mind. And the lab papers in front of you and the endless sound of the machine’s beeping is not enough to distract you.

Beep-beep-beep.

Have you done something wrong? What could it be? Only minutes prior were you looking at these papers with some sense of pride, imagination running wild with the possible outcomes of this hypothesis, positive ones. Yet, they were so easily shattered when Mortefi breezed by, catching a glimpse of the words printed on top, leaving several comments of where you could improve - how you should improve if you want to go through with this. Had you had a clear mind you would’ve done as he said, taken his words as helpful advice and not as an attack on your work. But his tone remained the same as always, it didn’t soften nor did it grow warm. So it made you wonder what he meant, or rather - what he really felt towards you. The latter was a question that occupied your mind for a long time.

He moved past you to the center of the lab, nearing one of the many lit computers, just where Baizhi stood. From afar you could see them greet one another and begin to talk. And that feeling in your chest only expanded further, pawing at your ribs and making you frown at the helplessness. Mortefi looked interested in whatever their topic of conversation was, and it lasted some odd few minutes. Odd minutes you couldn’t keep your focus until both of them left to their own stations, and far out of your sight. 

A heavy breath fell from you, irritated but also… sad. 

With your mind in a strewn about yarn, threads hanging, you began to think if this work was even worthy for you. God knew you wanted it, you signed up for it, you spent nights studying and working to be better and get better than that but all that effort seemed to fall short and small within Baizhi’s shadow. And you don’t even blame her, she is excellent in her work, you don’t hate her. But you’d give a questionable amount of things to have a fraction of that sweet attention Mortefi was giving her. Perhaps you were being unreasonable, irrational - and you don’t argue with it - you’re seeing green and red everywhere, and with hasty hands you collect your papers after making small adjustments, crossing out lines of text and noting down new words. And moments later you’re off to another part of the Academy, away from Mortefi and Baizhi.

What little glimpse Mortefi caught of you as you left shows disappointment and, and in the way you held yourself he saw traces of turmoil that he didn’t fully understand from that one look. He remained at his station, engrossed in his research and unaware of the burden you carried in your heart. 

It wasn’t until the time for your report came and went. And when your break time came and went. And you were nowhere in sight.

That made an odd feeling settle in his chest, a vibration of an unknown bass playing amidst the bones of his ribcage, waves of it washing up to his neck. Unable to ignore it any longer, he bid farewell to his station for the time being, one hand buried in the pocket of his lab coat, playing with the lighter. Flick..flick..

There was not one spot in this wide and vast Academy that you could hide from him, not when he wasn’t particularly looking for you and even more so when he was specifically looking for you. He could spot you in a crowd by one lone look, to him you stood out like a flower amidst grass, how could he overlook you? Following the path familiar to him, he comes into a lab room smaller in contrast than the others, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the center room and the halls. It is clean, it is comfortable. His eyes land on your back, your nose buried in your papers, your hands hastily fiddling with the apparatus in front of you. You barely acknowledged his presence.

As if to avoid startling you, Mortefi clears his throat, but he fails and watches as you flinch at the sudden disturbance. 

“Mortefi? Uh- What are you doing here? Did you need me?” the questions tumble out from your mouth out of habit rather than genuine curiosity. You turned to face him, brows lightly knit together and eyes regarding him with a mix of feelings and inquiries. 

“I grew curious as to where you vanished off to. Has your research been so indulgent that you forgot to eat or report in? It’s been 3 hours and some odd minutes since you began on this project this morning” he began, the nail on his thumb grazing underneath the lid of his lighter within his pocket, keeping still, yet tense in his hand. His sharp gaze moves from your eyes and down to the table you were working at, noting the sharpie marks across your paper and thinner lines from your pen, and giving a small nod at them he said: “You made those adjustments I told you about, I trust”

This pulls your attention from him and at the papers, and taking his words as some sign to move freely you begin to stack pages back on top of another. “Yes. I made the necessary changes to it all. I just need to put it all into practice and, hopefully, get the results I want” you respond, clearing your parched throat. His gaze is intense, you can feel it at the back of your head like two sharp points of a stick. 

“You’ve been pushing yourself today, unnecessarily so. I sense some growing frustration from you” he says, leaving the topic open ended, expecting you to explain yourself, but where do you even begin without looking like a fool? Like a child? 

You sigh, looking around the table yet searching for nothing as you shrug your shoulders. “No, no.. I just haven't been sleeping too well lately, and it seems that all is catching up to me” you offer a empty excuse, before reaching for a blank sheet of paper, a part of you yearning to keep him here, and the other wishing him to leave you with your own emotional burdens. “If a report is what you need, I can only offer what I have from the experiment thus far, but it is not concluded, I apologize”

“Ah, yes.. sleep. One thing that is most underestimated in its importance” he mused out loud, tone flat and ignoring your latter statement for a moment too long. He was pressing deeper into the crux of the matter, not letting you shift the topic too easily. “The report for an unfinished work will not be necessary, it’s much more preferable if you take a bit longer to get end results than to hand over a half-baked product”, he sighed, pushing his golden rimmed glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Your dedication is admirable, but we can hardly expect progress if you're operating on insufficient rest and mental fatigue”.

You have to stop yourself from either chuckling or spinning around to stare at him as if he was speaking backwards. But no matter what you tried, you couldn’t stop your heart from hammering in your chest.

“Perhaps you should have Baizhi take a look at you. She can prescribe you some soothing medication to help you sleep. But as for work.. You’re done for today” he stated plainly, looking to the side and barely missing your shocked eyes.

“What? Are you dismissing me?” you blurted out, suddenly afraid you have done something wrong or that you offended him in some capacity. He’d never send you home, especially not when you were in the midst of a project. 

“It's not a matter of dismissiveness, but rather a practical decision. If your exhaustion is hindering your ability to perform optimally, what benefit is there in insisting on your presence here?” he replied, his tone cool and detached. You blink at him owlishly, confused and, quite frankly, afraid. Previous anger, sadness and jealousy all melting away from your bones like wax over a flame. The flame being Mortefi himself. An eternal blaze that swallowed everything in its wake. You were wondering how it didn’t engulf you by now.

But in that thought alone you missed the point of it all. His flames didn’t touch you, didn’t scorn you because he willed them that way. The warmth of them kept you warm, kept you alive, kept you in this field and as his coworker, a place most others wouldn’t be able to handle. He would soften it all if he knew how, to show you he cares.

Sensing a shift in your emotions, Mortefi softened his gaze, a subtle nod of understanding replacing the usual aloofness he carried. He saw the confusion and fear in your eyes, and it pained him that he had inadvertently caused it. He knew that his words could often come across as cold and dismissive, but it was never his intention to harm or offend.

“Rest is not a punishment, but a necessary part of the work process. To push oneself to the point of exhaustion is unproductive. It only inhibits progress. Trust me when I tell you this."

Softness is undeniably present in his voice now, and your mind goes blank. Your mind was still stuck on this morning, on your project, but here he was breaking all illusions and thoughts by simply being kind. 

“I can’t say I don’t appreciate your concern, but..” you look up at his eyes only to find a scowl curling the corners of his lips, and you sigh again, looking away in embarrassment. “I can’t argue with you either, can I?”

“No, you cannot. Now, go pack up what you have. I’ll go contact Baizhi and see if she can get a check up on you before you leave”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary..” you wave your hands before you, shaking your head simultaneously to deny the offer with your entire being. “I already have some tea at home that can help me with this, no need for a check up. I insist” you try, but only get a cocked brow from Mortefi, you can already tell what he’s thinking. 

“Tea alone cannot be sufficient in treating issues related to poor sleep. Besides, it goes without saying Baizhi is well versed in medicine, and her prior check-ups of your health have been of great help to you, have they not? If tea was that simple of medicine, why have you not seen improvement?” he shot back sharply and you grew quiet, not wishing to prolong this argument further, but staying silent wouldn’t be the way to go either.

“I don’t want to see Baizhi right now” you said plainly, tone low and softened involuntarily. Your reply was met with a skeptical look, Mortefi’s head tilted in question. “And why not? Do I need to pull you to her office myself? You’re not a child, (Y/n)” he countered, not low on his arsenal of words and snappy remarks. He approached you closer, closing the distance between the two of you until he could peer into your avoidant eyes, making your heart skip a beat.

“I just.. Mortefi, I don’t know. I don’t want to see Baizhi and that’s final. Don’t make me go see her. I’ve seen enough of you two this morning” It slipped from your mouth sooner than you could pull it back, and immediately you regretted your choice of words, cursing the ability to speak. “Uh-”

Mortefi froze in his tracks, his sharp eyes widening subtly in surprise. The mention of Baizhi and himself seemed to strike a chord in him, and his stoic façade cracked just enough to betray a hint of confusion. “Hm? Have we done something to offend you to this degree of avoidance? I wasn’t aware of any discomfort inflicted upon you” he knitted his brows, looking at you for answers, his turn to feel on edge now. Were you implying he was acting out of line with Baizhi? He knew of how he behaved around others and he saw no flaws in his dealings with other colleagues, so it all left him in a more twisted maze. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, lips pressing into a thin line. “Mortefi- no. You haven’t done anything to offend me, I am not offended. I just.. uh.. No, it’s all too silly. I just meant that you two just seem to be too busy with your shared workload, and I just got tired of seeing it all” It’s a badly written lie, and the truth is bleeding through the cracks in neon colors. You’re cringing at yourself, really.. The lies you were uttering, however poorly woven, were evident in the way your face creased. He could almost hear your thoughts, almost see the jealousy and insecurity that plagued you through the lies you were trying to hide behind.

He paused for a moment, considering the situation carefully, before responding. "Is it really about our workloads, or is there something else that you're not telling me?" He asked calmly, his voice low and measured.

A pregnant pause befell your ears, only being interrupted by a distant hum of a machine outside of the room, and the footsteps of other workers in the halls. He does not push you to answer swiftly, instead he waits, patient as ever with you.

“I suppose…”

“You suppose..?”

It’d be a lie to say he wasn’t taut as a bowstring, ready to hear you out, anticipating your reply. His heart was squeezing painfully in his chest.

“Ugh..I just.. Promise me you will not be angry at me, and that you will not think ill of me after I tell you?” 

“Well, this must be big if you’re asking that of me” he breathed out. Your hesitation was palpable, and the silence between them dragged on, only adding to the palpable tension. Finally, the words came, and he felt a strange mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

“I'll promise no such thing will come from me. Your words cannot change the way I feel about you” he replied, his voice tinged with a touch of irritation.

With a heavy breath you closed in on yourself, arms folded over your chest. “I was just.. watching how close you and Baizhi are this morning and for a long time now. You always spend so much time together, and despite you and I being direct coworkers and more than that outside of this Academy, I feel.. left behind”

“You are jealous?”

“If you wish to put it that bluntly - then yes. I am”

Mortefi’s coldness and stiffness seemed to melt, the answer finally clearing up the brain fog that had started to develop in his head. Things were looking clearer at long last, and with that he also felt as if he failed you. He has failed to make you feel appreciated as you deserved, and that makes his gut twist in on itself.

“I fail to see why you’d be jealous of Baizhi, even with the time we spent together. Baizhi and I are strictly work colleagues and nothing more. You are the one that gets to be in my presence, sharing stories and desserts after work hours..” Mortefi says out loud, moreso speaking to himself than you, as if trying to figure out your point of view. He wasn’t dismissing your emotions, but he failed to grasp them within his own two hands. He had been so preoccupied with his own work and responsibilities that he had failed to notice the toll it was taking on his relationship with you. His focus had been so singularly on his research, on his partnership with Baizhi, that he had unintentionally neglected the depth of the connection he had with you.

“I do have to apologize” he cuts you off before you can speak. “This.. area is not within my expertise, per se. If I had neglected you, I would’ve liked if you openly communicated this with myself” he offered, and the lighter in his hand feels like it will break apart under pressure.  “And while I can’t limit my time with Baizhi, as it is all just work, I can accommodate you as well by spending more time with or around you, if that will help you feel more.. at ease” 

There is clarity ringing its bell over your head as he speaks, already offering solutions to this problem you made out of irrational thought. Bless his heart, for all he is cold and aloof he is ten times more kind. Snappy as he is, he means well.

“Mortefi... Mortefi, I am sorry too. I did want to keep this with myself, it shouldn’t have come to this point where you try to resolve my issues by yourself”

At that he scoffed, almost chuckling but no laughter came from him. One hand perches itself on his hip and he looks at you with a look that screams of his desire to see this through. 

“Oh, but how can I ignore it now that it is in front of me? No, that will not do. Especially since it is you who we’re talking about. You go ahead now, I’ll think of something until the end of my shift. I’ll give you a call later this evening”

Afterwards your company would leave his presence and the lab, having left with more reason than conflict, and with a mind full anticipation of his words.

And just like clockwork, by the end of his shift he’d give you a call, telling you to come meet him at your favorite dessert place. 

Mortefi is special in his way of showing affection..

He is yet to learn his way with words when it comes to sweet nothings, but until then he can take care of you and help you out with work. Whatever helps you see that you, indeed, do matter much to him. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Tags: @pinksaiyans

[sp0o0kylights]

There were a lot of things Mike hated in life.

The demogorgon, and how it had essentially destroyed his life.

 Brenner, and the madhouse laboratory El had survived. 

How each and every one of his friends now did something weird--were weird, because flashing lights or fireworks or some stupid tune a toy horse played dragged up memories that made their eyes flat and faces hollow. 

Most of all though, Mike hated how much they relied on Steve.

There was no reason he should be the person to call when it started pouring and no one wanted to bike home from AV. 

Steve wasn’t Nancy, or Jonathan, or a parent--he wasn’t even dating anyone related to any of the Party anymore so what excuse did he have to keep hanging around? 

(Even if Jonathan was always working, and Nancy was always busy with some club or homework, and everyone’s parents all seemed to be in a race of who could get back to normal the fastest…) 

They should at least try to get a hold of other people, instead of constantly going to Steve first.

“Why?” Dusitn had scoffed at him the last time this had happened, feeding quarters into a phone and staring at Mike like he was the one being unreasonable. “I’m not gonna waste money just to hear your sister tell us no again when we all know Steve will do it.” 

Which was perhaps the most infuriating part of it all.

That Steve would do it. 

Show up and help them, even if he bitched the whole time. 

Hell, Steve Harrington knew more about Mike’s life offhand than Nancy did, and that made him want to punch a wall more days than it didn’t. Why the hell was Steve so involved? 

It was stupid. 

Weird, even! They weren’t friends, (even if Dustin and Max and El of all people said the opposite) he wasn’t being paid to babysit, (Mike had double checked; going round to ask Ma Henderson and Mrs. Sinclair, only to get an earful of how wonderful Steve was from both.) he had no reason to hang around! 

It didn’t make sense that Steve could be harassed into picking them up from school. 

Would take them to get ice cream, or hand over extra quarters for the arcade. He even gave out advice like some kind of--brother that Mike had never wanted. 

Above all?

Mike hated that when he needed someone, the number he punched in on automatic was Steve’s.

“I need you to come get me.” He said into the receiver, mad at himself and the world, but mostly mad that beyond the normal amount of squawking Steve did, he shut up and came. 

Drove up in his rich boy car, stepping out and herding Mike into it like the rain hadn’t already seeped into his bones. 

“You wanna tell me why you snuck into a bar two towns over?” Steve asked, long after Mike had slung himself into the passenger seat, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“No.” 

One of Steve’s hands went right to his hair, running through it before adjusting the mess he’d just made. 

It was a nervous habit, and Mike hated that he knew that too. 

“Okay, well.” Steve’s hand fell back to the steering wheel, clenching tight around it. “Next time you want to do something dumb could you at least come talk to me about it beforehand?”

“What the hell would that do?” Mike bitched, staring firmly out of the window. 

“Not waste my gas for starters.” Steve bitched right back. “But I dunno man, we could have taken some bats and gone and wailed on cars in the junkyard and talked or some shit, not--whatever this all was.”

‘This all’ was accompanied by a wave of his hand, indicating not just the bar Mike had been standing in front of, but his general sopping wet state. 

“You’d actually go to the junkyard with me?” Mike challenged, doubtful. 

Steve made a face. “Did you lose your hearing in there? I just said--.” 

“Why?” Mike interrupted. “Why the fuck would you come out with me?”

Matching his entire aggressive tone, Steve said; “Because it’s better than trying to sneak into the one local gay bar when you’re barely fourteen, Michael.” 

And that? 

Steve being oddly aware of shit he really shouldn’t have?

Mike hated that too. 

“You knew what the bar was?” He asked, his voice coming out much smaller than he intended. 

“Everyone knows what that bar is, except it’s more of a biker bar than a gay bar.” Steve shot back--which did actually explain about ten different questions Mike had about the place. “Also, language you little shit.” 

Under his breath, Steve continued in a muttered; “I swear I’m going to start carrying around soap.”

“You cuss more than we do.” Mike responded, and if his own voice was a little strangled as he fought back the sudden swell of tears, then that was between him and God. 

He was not crying in front of Steve Harrington, he outright refused. 

“The point I’m making is that there are way better bars to sneak into. That one’s not nearly as welcoming as people make it out to be, probably because they’re sick of all the rumors.” 

Steve seemed to realize what he was implying because he quickly added; “Not that you should be sneaking into any bars at all!” 

“You’re not my mom.” Mike’s voice turned wet as he lost his battle with his throat, voice cracking as he failed to choke the tears back.  

“No shit Wheeler.”  Steve said, and at least he was good enough not to call attention to Mike’s crying. 

If he had, Mike was pretty sure he’d just up and die of embarrassment, right there. 

“I don’t get why you care.” He muttered, angrily swiping at his eyes. 

“I didn’t keep you alive this long just so you could die of something stupid.” Steve countered easily.

Which was kinda fair, if you thought about it.

Mike very much did not want to think about it. 

Any of it.

Ever. 

“Are you gonna tell my parents?” He asked after a painfully long moment. 

Long enough that Steve had begun fiddling with the radio, trying to find a station as they drove back that wasn’t wailing country or gospel music. 

“I’m not a narc, so no.”  

“Not about the bar.”  

Now Steve just looked confused. 

Probably because he was, because he was without a doubt the stupidest almost adult Mike knew. 

(Not that he could say that out loud--last time he had, Max had made one of her pissy faces and then El got mad because Max was, which led to a break up, which led to Mike having to beg his way back into his girlfriend’s good graces while explaining that he hadn’t meant it like that.

“How did you mean it then?” Max demanded, and Mike wasn’t sure how he managed to dodge that entire conversation but he had, on grounds that untangling his own emotions regarding stupid Steve made him want to pull his hair out and scream.) 

“What about then?” 

 “You know. Don’t make me say it.” Mike absolutely didn’t plead, even if it did sort of, kind of, sound like pleading. 

Steve flicked his eyes away from the road to give one long, weird look at Mike. The same one he gave Dustin when he went off on a rant about Cerebro or Lucas when he started discussing the stats of different D&D weapons. 

Unlike those times, Steve’s face cleared. 

“Oh.” He said, blinking, and Mike could practically see the light bulb flash above his head.

Then; 

“Nah.” 

Mike waited.

And waited.

And kept waiting as Steve went back to searching through radio channels, as if that was the end of the conversation.

It couldn't be the end of this conversation.

Not when this was the part that was eating Mike alive.

He didn’t know if this was Steve repressing it on purpose or if this was what he had to look forward to for the rest of his life if he kept trying to figure his own head out, but either way, he knew he had a choice to make. 

To let the unspoken part of today die quietly. Go unsaid, and remain unsaid, for all eternity--or he could let it out. 

Shove the “gay” part of “gay bar” in Steve’s stupid, jock face. 

Make him acknowledge it, even if it got Mike kicked out of the car, and who cared if it did? 

Steve wasn’t the person who should have picked him up anyway. 

The anger climbed higher and higher in his chest, tears and rage combining until Mike spat it all out, furious. 

“You’re not going to ask if I’m gay?”  

Steve didn’t turn to face him, but Mike saw his eyebrow cocking anyway, given how he was currently glaring a hole in the side of the older teen’s head. 

“Do you want me to?” 

“No.” Mike bit out automatically. “Yes. I don’t know!” 

Steve’s hand found its way back into his hair. 

“Okay then.” Steve paused, clearly fishing for something to say. 

Gleefully, Mike watched him struggle. 

“Do you like guys?” He managed finally, looking like he was navigating a minefield more than just talking.

“I don’t know.” Mike stressed, sinking lower in his seat. “Why do you think I was at the bar? I was trying to figure it out!” 

“Honestly I assumed this was some sort of stupid dare--but!” Steve held up a finger, before Mike could interrupt, “But let’s--shit, hold on, I had a speech for this but I kinda wasn’t expecting to use it this soon. Um.”

“You have a speech for me being gay?”

“Not for you.” Steve rolled his eyes. “For--in general! It was an in general, just in case speech!” 

He rounded on Mike, for longer than the younger was comfortable with given Steve took his eyes off the road to do it. “Okay--you can like boobies, you can like, uh--not boobies, and that’s fine! It’s all totally fine!” 

“You are not making it sound like it’s fine.” Mike said, feeling like he’d been taken out by hearing Steve say the word “boobies.” 

Gross, gross, gross. 

“Well it is.” Steve said, in a tone that felt like he was two seconds from adding in a smarmy ‘so there!’ at the end. 

“But I’m dating El.” Mike whined, which really, was both the heart of the matter and the eye of the storm that had been growing in his head for months now. “I can’t be gay if I like her.” 

“Don’t you guys break up and get together like four times a week?”

“No, that's Max and Lucas, El and I are stable.” Mike scoffed. “Or we--we were stable.” 

Before he started to have thoughts about people that weren't his girlfriend. 

Or women.

“Stable for being in middle school, sure.” Steve snorted. “You don’t just have to like one or the other you know. You can like dudes and chicks at the same time.”

Which Mike did not know, on account of being fourteen. 

He did his absolute damndest not to show that realization, instead adding that to the list of reasons why he hated Steve Harrington too.

Steve shouldn't be the one teaching him about who you could like!

“The point is that who you end up loving isn’t a problem.” Steve finally looked back to the road. “Other people might be an issue, and those people we can punch in the face so long as the cops aren’t looking, which isn’t part of the speech so let’s not tell people I said that part, but whatever you do choose, there’s nothing wrong with you.” 

Steve’s voice went firm, as he apparently recalled his speech or something close enough to it because his next words sounded a little rehearsed. “You have people who are here for you, no matter what. Okay?” 

Oh God, Mike was crying again. 

He wanted to punch Steve in his stupid face.

Wanted to hold onto the fury he'd built inside himself. Thrash around, throw himself out of the car, get away from the emotions that felt too big for his chest to contain. 

Instead he felt it all break on Steve's acceptance. On word's he didn't know he needed to hear until they'd been spoken, and sniffed out a quiet; “Okay.” 

Steve of course had to take it too far by reaching over and patting his knee, which they both regretted judging by how quickly Steve took his hand back and the face Mike made at his hand--but it…

It was appreciated, even amongst all Mike's rage.

Steve was appreciated. 

Not that Mike would ever, on pain of death, tell him that. 

Neither said a word for a while, Steve finally landing on a radio that was playing some Top 40 hit, Tears for Fears singing about ruling the world while Mike found himself trying to rebuild his own once again, tired of it having shattered so many times over. 

At least he finally felt better, even if he refused to admit Steve was the reason for it. 

He wasn’t quite done though.

 There was a piece Steve had skipped over, that Mike felt was critically important, if only because it was partly the reason he was having thoughts about being gay in the first place. 

He had to know if Steve saw it too. 

That it wasn’t just him and his stupid head, making up things that weren’t there. 

“Hey Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“Who was the speech for?” 

Steve sighed. 

“Rule one of the whole queer thing Wheeler, you don’t out other people.” 

Like there were written rules or something.

(Maybe there were, it wasn't like Mike knew.)

“Was it Will?” Mike asked, and pretended like he didn’t desperately want the answer to be yes. 

 Steve didn’t say a thing, but the fact he nearly took the car off the road was a pretty solid answer in itself. 

“We’re not playing guessing games about other people’s sexualites!” He yelped, hands gripping the steering wheel as Mike felt a wave of relief crash through him. 

Will was--maybe, possibly, also--queer too. 

Which didn’t make this any better but it--wasn’t the not preferred outcome, either. 

(It wasn’t just Mike struggling alone, trying to figure out if his best friend wanted to be more than that, if El was breaking up with him and more and more because she wanted to be less than a girlfriend, if things were changing and he would have no one--) 

“I’m not out here picking Will up from a gay bar dipshit, I’m picking you up, and this is your reminder that next time, you should just come talk to me!” Steve ranted. 

Mike snorted.

He absolutely hated Steve Harrington, but--

“Fine.” He said, talking so low he could barely be heard. “I will.”

--maybe Mike did have someone in his corner after all. 

Even if it was just Steve. 

xXx

Bonus: 

“Between you and me, that kid is gayer than a two dollar bill.” 

“Wow Robin,” Steve teased, “Isn’t that like, a slur or whatever?” 

He snickered when she rolled her eyes and threw a roll of stickers his way. 

“I’m just saying. Did you see the way he was looking at you when you were showing off your stupid biceps?” Robin said, nudging her shoulder into Steve’s. “Will’s gonna have a rude awakening later if he hasn’t already.” 

Steve nudged her back, but kept his gaze on the Party as they trooped their way from Family Video to the arcade next door, the realization that they now had connections for free rentals making them downright gleeful. 

Will was the last one in, and Steve watched him hurry so as to not be left behind. 

He didn’t like to worry about the dipshits, but Robin was just putting voice to a thought Steve knew he wasn’t the first person to have.

And if he noticed it, then it didn't exactly bode well as being kept a secret. 

“Should we like…talk to him about that?” He asked after a long moment, turning to face Robin.

“Us?” She pointed at herself, before turning her finger on Steve. “Why us?” 

“Well you’re into girls.” He gave her a pointed look, glad that the store was empty of everyone but them so he could actually voice all this. “And I’m fine with it.”

“Yeah I’m sure he wants to know you’re fine with it.” Robin taunted, but she had her thinking face on, eyes out to the middle distance. “I barely know him. You barely know him--he’s the quietest out of all your kids.”

“They’re not my kids.” Steve argued automatically. “They're like a weird cross between shitty siblings and that kid in your class who never leaves you alone.” 

A fact Steve no longer took for granted, even if he made it sound like the worst thing ever.

“I just think it’d be nice if he knew that he had people in his corner, you know? Who supported him and shit.” 

“Steve, you compared my crush to a muppet, that wasn’t supportive.” Robin countered, but it too was on automatic. 

Softer she admitted; “You’re right though. If I had known other queer people, if I had known people would accept me...it would have made things a lot easier.”

A very long pause, in which both of them stewed for a moment, before Robin abruptly slapped her hand down on the table.

“Okay, you got me. We're doing it, and I'm making us a speech.”

“A speech?” 

“Yes dingus, a speech. I know you, you’re terrible when you’re put on the spot with this kinda thing, and trust me with things like this the moment will be spontaneous.”

“It’s Will, how spontaneous can it be?” Steve challenged back. “Getting a dinner order out of him is a chore.” 

“Stop whining and hand me that notepad. Im telling you its gonna happen when you least expect it and then you're gonna thank me later.”

“It better not happen without you.”  Steve sighed, but passed the notepad over.

God the things he did for those stupid kids. 

Bonus x2

Steve would later go on to use the speech on himself, in a gas station bathroom mirror, eyes wide and freaked out after Eddie Munson called him Big Boy in a van they stole, while Robin snickered behind him. 

He would turn on her, snapping that she; “Help me with this dammit!” 

In return she’d remind him that Tammy might sing like a muppet but Eddie  was the guy who stepped on lunches while giving speeches at lunch and sticking his tongue out, and “Really Steve, I think I won best gay awakening, here.” 

Which would promptly start an argument regarding how it wasn’t a competition, which would continue for another fifteen or so odd years before finding its way as a reference into both of their speeches as each other’s best man. 

Nancy and Eddie wouldn’t get it at either wedding, but Mike would.

[xcherricutie]

➤ Messy

Vegeta x F!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count - 1.5k

Summary - Vegeta is a clean freak with anger issues and pent up emotions, and decides to take it out on you for fun.

Notes: This is my first time posting here. I am from Wattpad, so I don't know tumblr etiquette, apologies.

“Your habits are disgusting and you’re a mess.”

He would follow you around and criticize you for what felt like hours on end. It was enough to drive anyone mad, and he did it to you on purpose. He was a man on a mission, out to make your life as miserable as possible. That’s just how it was, being acquainted with the prince of all saiyans. It didn’t matter if you tried to avoid him, he would find you, and he would let you know of every flaw in your life. Almost as if he took a sick satisfaction in seeing you wallow in your own misery and insecurities. 

“Vegeta, her house is none of your business,” Bulma scolded with a harsh glare, slapping your discarded napkin out of his hand. You hadn’t had the time to clean up your living space before Bulma and Vegeta dropped by, unannounced. You didn’t mind surprise visitors, but Vegeta was an exception. Every single time he came by, which had become noticeably more frequent, you made absolutely sure that he could not find a single reason to complain or nitpick. You were simply thankful Bulma was there to keep her dog on his leash. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you forced through grit teeth with a smile, before your face relaxed as your eyes landed on Bulma. “What brings you here? You’re not one for random visits.” 

“Right, sorry,” Bulma chuckled, brushing some strands of her azure hair behind her ear, glancing over at Vegeta as he tip-toed through the specks of dirt in your carpet. Bulma rolled her eyes at the dramatic saiyan, sighing. “I need you to keep an eye on him. I don’t really trust him to be alone at Capsule Corp., and my mom and dad are out on vacation. I’ve got a big workload on my hands and can’t deal with him right now. I’ll pay you good, I promise.” 

You wanted to say no. You wanted to tell both of them to get out of your house and never come back. Babysitting Vegeta could have perhaps been Bulma’s most unreasonable request for you. He had not been on Earth for long, and yet had antagonized you more than anyone. You rarely even showed your face at Capsule Corp. anymore because of the man. And Bulma was your best friend that you visited nearly daily for years. She knew how much you hated Vegeta. 

And yet, when she pulled the wad of cash out of her pocket, you immediately found yourself agreeing to the impossible task. Bulma’s payments were usually unreasonable amounts, as if the stack of paper zenni she handed to you was less than allowance money for her. It felt wrong to take, but what could you say? You were living independently in the city - you needed any cash you could get. Even if it meant spending a day with the most annoying being in the universe. 

As soon as Bulma had left, it was not long before Vegeta started to act up. He almost acted like a prepubescent boy at times, unable to properly convey his feelings, resorting to anger to vent. You had even made a point to clean up around the house so he wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable, but some of the things he complained about were unreasonable. 

“The geometry of your living space is poorly designed, woman,” Vegeta commented as he stood in the midst of your living room, looking around at the furniture. You rolled your eyes as you vacuumed the carpet, tuning his voice out. 

“Nobody is stopping you from just leaving. You hate all of us, I don’t understand why you continue to torture yourself on this planet,” you muttered, unsure if he heard you over the vacuum. You didn’t care much if he did or not, barely having the energy to speak to or at him. 

“I’m waiting for Kakarot to come back to this miserable planet. But I’m starting to doubt he will,” Vegeta said as he placed his hands on his hips, searching for more things in your house to nitpick about. You had done a pretty good job hiding things for him to complain about. 

“Maybe he’s avoiding you,” you said with a smirk at the idea. You would not blame Goku one bit if he was avoiding the entire Earth because of Vegeta’s presence. Vegeta did not find your comment very funny as his head whipped to your direction, glaring harshly. 

“Then I would track him down and drag him to this miserable planet to humiliate him in front of his loved ones,” Vegeta sneered, lip raised in a slight snarl, as if the mere assumption were the most offensive thing he’d ever heard. 

“Is it really that hard to accept that somebody doesn’t like you and doesn’t want to see you? I really don’t understand you, Vegeta,” you stood up straight as you turned off the vacuum, turning to glare at him. “You antagonize people on purpose, and then get mad when everyone leaves. What do you want from us? Why won’t you just leave?” 

“My business is none of your concern, woman. I suggest you close your mouth and not utter a single sound from now on, unless you really want to see what antagonistic looks like. I could put you through a world of misery with words alone, I haven’t done anything to you yet.” Vegeta’s harsh eyes stared into your soul, as if knowing you weren’t going to listen. He had been here less than a year, and yet knew you would not stand for such nonsense. 

“This is my house! I suggest you shut up if you know what’s good for you, asshole!” You yelled, leaning closer to his face. His warm breath hit your face as he scoffed, looking down at you as if he were so high and mighty. He was barely three inches taller than you.

“I could destroy you, and this house, and this whole planet in a matter of seconds if I wished. Your empty threats mean nothing to me, human.” Vegeta smirked down at you. That was your breaking point as your hand moved on its own. Even Vegeta found himself shocked by your sudden movement as your hand left its mark across his cheek, its shape searing into his cheek. Head turned from the sudden force, Vegeta stared at you with wide eyes, as if to let his brain process the attack on him. You expected him to blow up. You needed to gain control, fast. You would rather your house remained intact by the time Bulma returned. 

“Wh-What’s with the surprised look? Didn’t think a girl could hit you? Bet you’re completely smitten, huh?” Your face lit up like a lightbulb, cheeks burning as you smirked, watching his every muscle movement. You didn’t even mean for the words to escape your lips, but as they did, you knew you were dead. “You want to kiss me so bad, huh, Vegeta?” 

You saw the blush bloom across his cheek, making your hand mark burn ever brighter. That was the first time you had ever seen an emotion other than anger or pride on his face. But the view did not last long, as you suddenly found your vision obscured, his large frame right in your face, his lips connected to yours. This was an unexpected development, to say the least. 

His touch sent lightning through your nerves as his hands uncharacteristically gently slid up your arms, gloved fingers brushing over your cheeks. His kiss was soft, as if to show you everything he had been unable to get across before, many emotions flowing through one small touch. That one small touch, however, began to grow more desperate as Vegeta grabbed your shoulders, firmly pressing his lips to yours. Your scent was intoxicating, and every little jolt of electricity to his nerves sent him spiraling through his pent-up emotions even more. 

It wasn’t until your palms were pressed to his chest, trying to push him off, that he broke from his much-needed kiss. You stared up at Vegeta in surprise, watching many emotions flow through his dark pupils, before he finally came to his senses. You were pushed away, although much softer than you would have expected, his warmth pulling away from you as he left you standing there. He plopped down onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions as he crossed his arms, avoiding meeting your gaze. Your eyes stayed glued to him for a moment longer, before you let out a silent scoff, smiling in amusement. 

Vegeta had not uttered so much as a word after that. No more comments on her habits or appearance, no more jabs at her life and home. He had sat silently at her side, stealing glances at her every once in a while as she read her book in peace. And perhaps it was the cleaner environment, or just something in him beginning to bloom, but you looked much better than when he had shown up. 

And you weren’t sure if it was just the sunlight hitting him at just the right spot, or if he just looked like this when he wasn’t constantly raging, but Vegeta had a different look about him, almost a glow. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought.

[princessshikky]

Okay, this post has been a long time coming.

Basically, there is a huge amount of misconceptions about liujiu and their history, and it's very frustrating to see in arguments about canon, so. I'm here to clear Liu-shidi's reputation and browbeat SJ with a newspaper (affectionate).

There is a whooping total of 4 liujiu interaction scenes in SVSSS. In chronological order:

The first meeting occurs at an inter-peak competition, where SJ hates LQG at first glance. LQG wins a sparring and has an air of "matter-of-fact arrogance" about him, which only strengthens SJ's dislike. What's interesting is that next SJ ambushes LQG after the sparring and "uses every means" to attack him, as recounted by Yue Qingyuan. Which does nothing to endear SJ to LQG and makes LQG very understandaby wary of SJ.

The second meeting occurs in a brothel. Backstory: SJ stumbles upon a Baizhan disciple named Ji Jue on the street, they have a quarrel, SJ beats and seriously injures Ji Jue, then goes to a brothel. LQG hears about it and rushes to "teach SJ a lesson". Interestingly, nowhere in the text is it mentioned that SJ is injured in any way after his scuffle with LQG, even though the fight has apparently taken quite a while and LQG is a way better fighter than SJ.

The well mission. SJ, LQG and SQH are assigned to deal with some evil spirits in a remote village. Spirits fly out of an old well, one of them attempts to attack LQG from behind, SJ sees it and attacks the spirit, but accidentally brushes over LQG's shoulder, which LQG mistakes for an attempt to kill him. SQH tries to clear the misunderstanding, but SJ threatens him into silence. Again, LQG and SJ come to blows, but no injuries are mentioned.

The disciple acceptance ceremony. SJ and YQY are watching the potential recruits, LQG arrives, has a brief but civil conversation with YQY, SJ intervenes, LQG insults him and leaves.

That's it, folks! That's literally every liujiu interaction in canon! Now with this out of the way, let me disprove some of those fanons I see in liujiu fics every damn time I dare to open one.

LQG did not mistakenly believe SJ to be a son of a wealthy family. Nowhere in the book does LQG ever comment on SJ's origin. This is a fanon from "The Grand Unified Theory of Shen Qingqiu", which is a great fic, don't get me wrong, but god did it mess with people's perception!

In the same vein, LQG never accused SJ of being lazy. Ever. That was QQQ.

LQG wasn't unreasonable to immediately assume SJ was trying to kill him during the well assignment. Think of what LQG knows about SJ at this point: SJ is willing to ambush someone because of entirely stupid and petty reasons like a lost sparring; SJ is perfectly willing to seriously injure his fellow disciple (see: Ji Jue); SJ is constantly threatening to kill LQG (mentioned in the brothel scene); SJ is not above using dirty tricks to achieve his ends. Yes, the suspicion made SJ feel bad, which is perfectly understandable (poor SJ was just trying to help!), but it wasn't entirely baseless. LQG's conclusion was based on SJ's prior behavior.

Speaking of SJ's dirty tricks: no, when people mentioned SJ's penchant for dishonest means, they weren't talking about harmless tricks like qiankun buttons. SQH insinuates in canon that SJ wouldn't be above shanking LQG with a poisoned knife in the middle of a sparring (Airplane extra, when he watches LQG spar with SY!SQQ), and Ji Jue, someone who's fought SJ personally, seems to agree.

LQG did not condemn SJ's womanizing and/or his visits to the brothel. The only times when LQG comments on SQQ's private life in canon have to do with LBH and bingqiu. To put it simply: LQG did not give a damn about SJ allegedly spending time with sex workers. Nor did LQG constantly stalk SJ to try and catch him in a brothel. Nor did LQG ever lecture SJ about sex being bad for his cultivation (that was YQY, but no one ever remembers this bit).

Actually, it can be inferred that most of the time liujiu tried to ignore each other when forced to be in each other's presence. They only interact when they cannot avoid it/when SJ does (or seems to do) something so shitty LQG cannot ignore it. Or when SJ deliberately attracts LQG's attention.

Conversely, LQG did not constantly pursue SJ demanding a sparring with him. Not ever. I have no idea where this particular fanon stems from.

LQG did not gossip about SJ's private life. It is never mentioned in the book; however, it is said that several Baizhan disciples knew of SJ visiting a pleasure house. Any of them could've spread the rumour; or hell, it could've been someone else who saw SJ entering the place at a later date. Or the brothel workers may have shared the story with their other clients. It's never clearly stated, but there's no reason to believe LQG specifically was the one responsible for spreading this rumour. For one, YQY promises SJ that LQG would keep quiet about their skirmish. Also, it just isn't in character for LQG to gossip.

Just... every time people write liujiu, they go out of their way to completely erase SJ's shitty behavior, blaming all of the bad blood between them on LQG "misunderstanding" the poor innocent SJ. Oh, if only LQG knew the truth, he'd immediately recognise the error of his ways!.. Except no, actually, it's not how it is at all. And I'm so tired of the people constantly mistaking fanons for canon.

[cassandracain52]

You made me think about immunocompromised Tim so now you suffer the consequences (my thoughts) :D

Disclaimer: I haven't actually read that particular arc yet - I'll get around to it, I swear! But I do know roughly what happens.

With the whole spleentuation Tim turns the Red Robin costume into what basically amounts to a Hazmat suit. He doesn't actually change much - he goes for full face coverage and introduces some airtight seals. It makes upkeep slightly more laborious and makes him a lot scarier than he wants to be but it's this or risking getting benched for an infection for an unreasonably long time. Bruce returns and doesn't even question the look until he finds older Red Robin costume without the Hazmat qualities and in an attempt of casual bonding asks Tim why he changed it. You can imagine how the rest goes.

Second scenario:

Bruce vanishes before the pandemic, when he returns the family is very careful with like, disinfecting everything and they always have gloves and masks on their person. He writes it off as a side-effect on the pandemic until he realises how much more careful everyone is around Tim

Third scenario:

Tim uses his general lack of an immune system as a way to get out of things he doesn't want to do where there'll be a crowd. Mostly Gala's. Like:

Tim: I'm worried I'll get sick when I go to the opening of the Lexcorps factory we need to make An Appearance at.

Bruce: You went to ComicCon last week, you'll be fine.

Tim: 🥺

And like, what's Bruce going to do? Tim is right he SHOULD be a lot more careful. He SHOULDN'T go to the gala. So he folds like wet paper without fail every time. Tim cuts his public appearances down to an absolute minimum. Jason is seen more often and he's supposed to be dead.

Tims coup de resistance (is that the saying) is getting to attend a business meeting virtually because one of the three (3) people there was travelling two weeks ago

4.

Bruce: Tim you should go to sleep staying up this long is not good for your health your immune system will thank you.

Tim: what immune system.

Bruce: What do you mean what immune system.

Tim *chuckles*: I'm in danger.

Bruce: What do you mean what immune system.

5.

Damian sneezes once and refuses to take off his mask for six days straight on the off-chance he'll get Tim sick. He was literally digging through the dusty attic. He is not sick. Tim isn't even around half the time. You don't need to sleep in the mask Damian. DAMIAN.

”Jason is seen more often and he's supposed to be dead.” <<<asfghjkl XD this is taking me OUT😭 I never really thought of Tim using this as a “get out of jail free” card but he so would. But only for things he doesn’t want to do. That party of maybe 200 guests at most? Nope sorry can’t do it, too risky. That concert with 50,000+ people? Completely fine

All these scenarios were so fun!! I especially appreciated “What do you mean what immune system.” and Tim just immediately starts sweating bullets cause Oh Did He Forget To Mention That?

and Damian would so be super paranoid to accidentally get Tim sick but also would never admit that because Tim Must Never Know He Worries About Him

Damian wearing a full mask, gloves, and maintaining a ten ft distance at all times because Jon (who has seasonal allergies) sneezed kinda close to him: You’re a disgrace to this family Drake. Do us a favor and die

Tim not falling for this for a second: Uh-huh so can I just- [attempts to take approximately One Step Closer]

Damian rapidly scrambling back: nO I HATE YOU STAY AWAY-

Please feel free to share your thoughts again🤣