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ambrozjas · 8 months

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the gang x reader who loves makeup ꨄ︎

the outsiders x reader (separate)

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

guys i swear i’m working on your requests i just wanted to use this as a filler to feed you guys while you wait, but trust me, i’m workin on it 💕 thank you for all the likes and reqs !! love you all xoxo

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

some curse words, makeup, reader is compared to “a girl in a magazine” in johnnys part, kissing?? i dunno 😭

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

DARRY’s thumb rubs along your thigh. he lay on his bed while you were sat at the desk besides him. you placed your vanity mirror on the wooden surface and had been working on your makeup for about half an hour.

darry had seen his mother put on makeup whenever she’d go out with his father, so he had a better idea of makeup than someone like steve or two bit. he liked whenever you asked him questions like ‘this or that’.

“which one? peach or mint?” you asked as you held up two lip glosses, the peach gloss in a soft pink tube and the mint in a sage green one.

darry seemed to think for a moment, humming in thought. “th’peach one.” he finally said, nodding his head in the direction of where you were holding the peach tube.

“thanks, dare.” you mumbled, your lips forming an ‘o’ shape, ready for application.

“why do you always put on makeup?” he asks, eyes fixated on you. a satisfying pop of your lips before you look over to him and shrug.

“dunno, makes me feel pretty.”

“you’re always pretty, darlin’.” darry continues, moving his hand from your thigh to your hand, interlocking both your fingers and squeezing.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“how d’ya get that thing so close to your eye?” SODAPOP asks. you’ve been doing your makeup for about ten minutes, soda watching you like a hawk.

“i just raise my eyelid and put the curler to my lashes, piece’a cake.” you shrug, mouth open as you apply some mascara. “really?” he asked, taking a glance at your drawer full of makeup products, an assortment of pretty colored tubes, he would guess were either for your lips or eyes.

“yeah, why? you want some?” you laughed, expecting a ‘no’ in return but got only silence. you looked back at him. soda had just shrugged exaggeratedly.

one thing let to another and you ended up perched on sodapop’s lap, his eyes closed as you decorated his lids with blue eyeshadow.

“soda—! don’t crinkle your eyes!” you exclaimed, your boyfriend simply chuckled and gently grasped your wrist. “‘s not my fault it tickles, babe.”

soda opens his eyes to look at you, pulling your palm to his lips for a soft kiss.

“you know, you just ruined the eyeshadow, right? your eyes are hooded so the shadow will get—“

“shh, i’m tryna be romantic ‘ere.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“oh, PONYBOY!” you squealed, dragging out the ‘y’ in his name and running down the hallway already carrying your makeup bag.

you poke your head in through the doorway to find pony laying on his bed, nose buried in another one of his books. he glanced at you, already suspicious of the fact that the rest of your body isn’t visible.

“huh?” he questioned, his eyes flickering between the words of the book. “you wanna be the best boyfriend ever and do me a favor, pony?” you grinned as you dragged out the syllables in his name.

“what’re you doin’?” he inquired. you started to step slowly into view, your bag held behind your back. “i just need’a see somethin’ real quick.” he sat up a bit as you got closer to him and placed the book on the desk next to his bed, careful to mark the page he was on with a bookmark.

you finally bring your hands around to your front, unveiling the small makeup bag filled to the brim with products.

“oh, no.”

“oh, yes.”

“no! you ain’t touchin’ my face!”

and before he knows it, ponyboy has a face full of makeup on and you’re finishing it off with some sparkly highlighter on his nose.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you had a date with JOHNNY at the drive-in, planning to see one of elvis’ new movies.

you had done your makeup, using the multitude of products you had in your room, and you looked snatched. your hair was cute, whether greased up or not, it never failed to look effortlessly gorgeous, johnny always thought so.

he was already waiting at the drive-in, accompanied by dallas who unfortunately was “chaperoning” him for the night, probably just trying to keep a lookout for drunk broads.

when you had arrived though, boy, was johnny astonished. his eyes widened at just the sight of you, it was like you were a princess walking up to him in slow motion.

once you had caught up to him and dally, johnny couldn’t help but mutter, “y’look like one of those ladies from the magazines..”, he gawked at just the utter sight of you.

“thank you?” you giggled and gave a quick peck to his lips. “i’ll get us a coke!” you jogged over to the concessions area with a bunched up wad of money in your hand. johnny watched you walk away, mouth still parted a bit in shock.

dallas, being the shithead he is, rudely tapped johnny’s cheek, making him close his mouth. “you’ll catch flies, johnny.” he said, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette.

once you two had actually sat down, dally chatting up some girl a few feet away, johnny turns to you. “s’that a new lipgloss?”

“yeah, you like it?” you asked, blowing him an exaggerated air kiss after.

“tastes sweet.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“c’mon, doll, it’s been like twenty minutes.”

“hold on, DALLY, i have to finish this wing!” you affirmed, your words altered with the way you opened your mouth so your skin would stretch, giving you the perfect opportunity with eyeliner and mascara. one struggle almost everybody goes through, is getting the other eyeliner wing to match the other.

“you’ve been at this for a while, just draw a line ‘n call it a night.” dallas insisted, he didn’t much like waiting, and he never understood why people took so much time just to do their makeup.

“no, you don’t understand. it has to be perfect.” you said, enunciating the ‘p’. you look at dallas in the reflection of the mirror and see him sigh in defeat and hollow his cheeks with another inhale of a cancer stick.

“you better not be smokin’ that thing in here, stinkin’ up my whole room.” you wrinkled your nose, the smell of cigarettes never leaves your room as long as dallas comes over.

“you do it too.”

“i smoke outside, not where it’ll penetrate a whole room full of cute things.” you rebutted.

“whatever you say, doll.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“do i look like a pretty princess?” TWO-BIT asked as you applied blush on his cheeks. you and his kid sister giggled at the sight. two’s eyes covered with all sorts of bright pinks and yellows and blues, colors that his little sister suggested.

“yes keith, you look like a pretty princess.” you said, watching two’s nose scrunch at the brush tickling his cheeks.

“what next?” you asked to his sister, turning to her as she held a finger to her chin in thought. then, it was like a light bulb went off inside her head. she grinned at you, a catlike smile that you returned, one that made two-bit worried about what would come next.

“lipstick.” was all she said, and immediately she handed you a bright red lipstick. you let out a soft laugh as you looked at two-bit’s expression, cocking an eyebrow as usual.

“you ain’t doin’ what i think you’re doin’, right?” he asks, then you wiggle the tube of lipstick at him, getting it closer as he shifts away. he placed his hands up in defense, “baby—! c’mon, you wouldn’t do that to your wonderful lovely boyfriend, would you?”

as he tries to scurry off, you hook your leg around his waist and keep him in place while his little sister laughs hysterically in the background. you grip his cheeks so his lips could purse, giving you the perfect access to apply his lipstick.

he ends up looking like a scrapped lisa frank design and that lipstick ends up in kiss marks littering your face, accompanied by ‘eww’s’ in the back provided by two’s sister.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“shit! it burns!” STEVE yells, his lips a cherry red with irritation.

“why’d you put it on your lips?” you threw your arms up, representing a ‘what the hell?’.

“thought it was your lipstick thingies!”

“why would you put it on your lips in the first place, steve?” you laughed and rushed over to get a paper towel and a few ice cube. “i thought it’d taste good.” he muttered, his lips a comical plump as he glared at the tube, feeling silly how he didn’t read the white letters on it saying ‘duck plump’.

when you came back, you sat down next to steve, gently wiping off the gloss before he snatched the napkin and wiped it off aggressively himself, desperate to get it off.

you both looked at each other before he looked down at the ice cube. “wha’s ‘at supposed to do?” he asked. you stammered, “i don’t know you were in hysterics! ‘pleasee! oh please get it off! it burns—!’” you cut yourself off with a laugh, laying back on the bed.

“yeah, yeah. whatever..” he grumbles, throwing another glare at the lip plumping gloss that lay abandoned on your desk.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ thank you all so much for all the love n requests, i swear i’m writing them just give me some time 🫶

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

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seren1tyhaze · 1 year

Text

Dive

PAIRING: doyoung x afab reader (ft djj)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k (got a bit carried away)

SUMMARY: your best friend drags you out to a club to be her wingwoman as she meets back up with a stunning stranger and you cross paths with the hottest man you've ever seen in an expensive suit and a cross around his neck

THANK YOU: @strwbrysunday you know how important you've been in getting this across the finish line and you're a literal angel. thank you so much <3 thank you to all my friends who watched me brainrot over this over the past week and inspiring me to keep working on it with your positive words.

WARNINGS: explicit smut, smoking, drinking, drug reference, profanity, heavy religious imagery in a sexual setting (and I mean HEAVY - so if this is going to bother you, this isn't the fic for you)

PLAYLIST: Dive by DoJaeJung, Angel by NCT 127

This was clearly inspired by the Doyoung D&G promo images with the rosary and the rest was history...

I can dive, I'm diving into you

—

Ouch. You pinch your eyelash with the curler as you lean in closer to the glassy mirror in your best friend’s bathroom. You knew you should be wearing your contacts but had forgotten them at home and you weren’t going to hear the end of it from her if that was the excuse you had for ditching her for the night.

It had been an exhausting week at work but somehow your adorable firecracker of a platonic soulmate since childhood had dragged you to her apartment as soon as the clock hit 5:00PM in the co-working space your small start-up you both worked for shared with some other local environmental companies.

She had shed off her casual work clothes hours before, now wearing a glittery black dress, hugging her hips tightly, strings ruched up the side revealing plenty of thigh, covered with nude fishnets. You envied her long and bouncy locks that flowed down her back, reaching up to touch your straight hair that never cooperated with the curling iron.

“What is it?” she asked from behind you, catching you staring.

“Is there something on my dress?” she spun around, craning her head to look at her own ass in the mirror.

You started to speak before you realized she was showing off, dropping to the floor quickly before slowly standing again, shimmying her rear as she started to sway to the faint music coming from her living room.

You rolled your eyes with a huff, curling your other eye’s lashes and applying a few coats of mascara.

“Loosen up, angel,” she called back as she moved into her walk-in closet to select her shoes and handbag, using her pet name she had been calling you for years.

You finished up the rest of your makeup, cleaning up the little pile of products and packing them back neatly in their small pouch before examining yourself in the mirror. Your dark hair fell almost to your shoulders, eyes accentuated with smudged dark liner and cheekbones dusted with a bright coral blush that complimented the glossy color across your lips. You had let your best friend convince you to dress up more than you usually did, since she said the club you were going to tended to cater to a more affluent clientele.

A skin tight white leather crop top pushed your breasts up nicely and you had even let your friend dust some shimmering glitter across them with a large puff earlier. You smoothed the matching devastatingly short skirt and adjusted the lace up black boots that travelled up your long legs and over your knee. You felt confident in the outfit and only slightly uneasy about the night ahead. Your friend had a tendency to scan for her prey of the night the minute you entered a venue and often spent the night locking lips with half the dance floor or as she did the weekend before, dancing on stage with the burlesque dancers at the late night speakeasy.

Standing next to her as you both did final checks in the mirror, you looked like the moonlight and sunlight, night and day, devil and angel. A dangerous pair for any person to come across in a crowded club with these outfits, to say the least. You giggled as your friend planted a glossy kiss to your ear before pushing your hair back into place, following her out of the spacious apartment.

“WOO!” shrieked your friend, waving long fingernails at a tall, slender man leaning against a private booth tucked near the DJ. A warm grin spread across his plush lips and you couldn’t help it when your heart jumped a little in your chest. How your friend always found the most attractive people to surround herself always surprised you (not like you were complaining).

She had met Jungwoo the weekend before at a rave and had gabbed your ear off about the attractive and rich heir to a fortune who lived downtown in the middle of all the weekend excitement and had fed her drinks all night long while clutching onto her hips as they danced. She hadn’t gone home with him but instead had gotten his number and promised to meet him out the next weekend. The next weekend was now and out the two of you were.

Jungwoo was absolutely stunning, bright white hair damp, long, and hanging around his cheeks and across his forehead. He wore a sheer blouse unbuttoned halfway, exposing much of his toned chest and loose grey slacks that didn’t leave much to the imagination when he moved.

Taking careful steps through the crowd, you followed your friend who now had her hand held close to the lips of another man, this one dressed in the remains of an expensive suit, tie loose and sloppy around his neck with several buttons of a crisp pale blue shirt undone. He had dark hair slicked back to reveal his stunning face and his eyes glittered when he pulled them to yours to greet you.

“This is Jaehyun, Jungwoo’s roommate!” she giggled, a glass of champagne somehow already in her hand as she grinned at Jaehyun’s tender kiss to the back of her hand.

“Lovely to meet you, girls,” Jaehyun spoke deep and smoothly, his voice like velvet.

You cleared your throat with a small smile and shifted your weight in the uncomfortable shoes, eyes darting past the two men in front of you to a third seated in the booth.

Goosebumps instantly dotted your bare arms as you raked your eyes over one of the most attractive men you had ever seen. Even seated, you could tell he was tall with a broad frame. His hand was stretched out across his knee, high end designer fabric covering every inch of his body.

As if in slow motion, he lifted his head from his phone, placing it next to him to take a long sip from the short glass of dark liquid on the table in front of him. He brought his dark eyes up to meet yours and as soon as you made contact you watched his adam’s apple move in his throat, gulping as he peeled his eyes down your body.

You moved a hand to grip your other forearm, suddenly self conscious but equally intrigued, cocking your head slightly to the side. Your vision blurred briefly and you cursed yourself for not remembering your contacts as your loss of focus refused to let you make out the expression on the mystery man’s face.

“Doie - don’t be rude, say hi!” Jungwoo slurred out, taking a strong hand to the small of your back to guide you into the booth and directly next to Doyoung.

“Hi,” he spoke, quiet and soft, pulling his hand off his knee to extend a handshake to you.

You chuckled lightly and let him shake your hand, taking a moment to inspect him further now that you could see him better.

The white collared shirt under his suit jacket was tight (almost too tight) with the top buttons straining against the fabric enclosure. He had a soft jaw and plump lips, dark hair styled in a way that was kept but still messy in a sexy way. When he smiled his eyes crinkled in the corners and his neutral facial expression was hard to read when he wasn’t speaking.

You let your eyes wander down to his tight pants before shaking your head, begging your dirty mind to control itself. It hadn’t been that long since you had hooked up with a stranger at a bar but long enough to let your mind wander within minutes of meeting this man.

Doyoung reached across the table to pour you a glass of champagne from the bottle in the ice bucket and as he did, you noticed a glimmering chain around his neck. As he leaned further, you saw the small black beads on the chain catching the light and much to your surprise, a cross slipped into view briefly.

You sucked in a deep inhale at the sight - this man was wearing a fucking rosary around his neck.

Flashes of hours kneeling for Easter vigil mass, heavy clouds of incense in your face as you held the thurible in a floor length white robe, dark smudges on your forehead, and getting tipsy off communion wine in the church basement with your cousins flew across your mind as you watched him laugh at something Jaehyun said.

Jungwoo swore loudly as he dripped tequila across the table, attempting to pour five shots evenly. You can’t pull your eyes away from Doyoung, watching as he bows his head lightly, wincing ever so slightly at the curse words.

Who the fuck is this guy?

Taking a long drink from your champagne glass and tossing back the shot that is handed to you, you reach into your bag and dig out a carton of cigarettes, pulling the ashtray at the center of the table closer to you.

Pulling a loose stick with your lips, you instinctively gesture towards Doyoung who moves a hand quickly to decline. You shrug and move a bit closer to Jungwoo who is taking a long drag from a neon green vape. He chuckles and tosses his hair from his eyes as he watches the interaction.

“You’re better off making moves on Jae,” he says to you on his exhale. He tosses an arm around your shoulder, nudging your bare shoulder lightly with his thumb, cocking his chin up to draw your attention to a smiley Jaehyun swaying to the music, slightly off beat, as your friend tries to get him to salsa dance with her.

“Doyoung is a little more on the conservative side. Doesn’t smoke, doesn’t like getting high, barely gets drunk, takes his grandma to church on Sundays, all that,” Jungwoo adds, giving you a softer smile as he pulls your eyes into contact with his.

You narrow your own eyes slightly, not sure if this is some twisted attempt at reverse psychology to push you even more into the arms of his friend. While he was wearing the rosary, that didn’t necessarily scream “priest”. He was in a high end club’s most desirable VIP booth, surrounded by drinks and other substances, with two party boys that looked like models.

“Well he’s taken every shot that’s been poured for him, so I don’t know about that ‘not getting drunk’ part,” you quip back, taking a long drag from your cigarette and blowing it behind you through tightly pursed lips, intentionally avoiding Doyoung’s direction.

“Yeah he and Jaehyun lost some big account today, I think he’s just blowing off some steam. Plus he owes me,” Jungwoo winks as punctuation, making it apparent that he wasn’t going to elaborate on the end of that statement.

Throughout the night you learn that Doyoung and Jaehyun work at a big investment bank, Jaehyun sharing a small apartment with Jungwoo in the middle of all the city nightlife, the three of them having known each other since they were kids. Doyoung seemed to have never moved on from their strong faith-based formative years, holding onto these ideals even years later and still an active member of his family’s church community. When he checks the time on his phone you see the smiling face of an older woman pushed up against his, assuming this to be the grandmother Jungwoo mentioned before.

He’s quiet as you chat with him, having to do most of the talking, but is kind and puts some of your nerves at ease even when your friend is off in the middle of the dance floor doing god knows what with god knows who.

Despite his reserved nature, you feel his eyes trained on your every move, following your lips and hands as you smoke another cigarette, the way you cross and uncross your legs with ease, despite the short skirt that has a tendency to ride up when you wiggle in your seat.

You watch him in the same way he watches you, the way his hair falls into his eyes every once and a while and instead of pushing it away with his hand, he shakes his head lightly, flicking his eyes up as if to chastise the loose strands. When he leans forward to take a sip of his drink or gesture to the waitress, his toned chest is exposed by the undone buttons on his shirt.

As much as you hate to admit it, his very presence is intoxicating and it’s affecting you more than you would like. Goosebumps crop up on your arms and you suddenly feel chilled in the warm room, sending a shiver down your spine.

A loud laugh draws your attention across the booth and you are met with the sight of your friend feverishly making out with Jaehyun, sandwiched between him and Jungwoo who has his hand up the hem of her dress, laughing into her neck.

You whip your head back towards Doyoung, giving an awkward smile to him before the chill sets over you again. You train your gaze downwards, examining the patterned carpet on the floor and the laces on your thigh high boots, picking at the edge of the string. You startle at the feeling of fabric being draped over your shoulders, looking up to see that Doyoung has placed his suit jacket around your shoulders.

He keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulder after placing the jacket and you suddenly feel an additional set of eyes on you as you lift up to meet Jaehyun’s gaze. He’s staring at your slightly spread legs, running a wicked tongue across his bottom lip as it quirks up into a wry smile.

You feel Doyoung’s grip around your shoulder tighten and turn to see his face close to yours, your heart jumping in your chest when you feel his breath across your cheek. You can’t bear to break eye contact with him, despite the fact that you desperately wish you could see Jaehyun’s reaction.

“You seemed cold,” he murmurs to you, lips almost brushing across your skin as he speaks close to your ear. He smells delicious, like soft musk but still clean and warm. You mentally take note to slyly ask Jungwoo what cologne his friend wears.

“Thank you,” is all you can muster and you resist the urge to drop your head to his shoulder, suddenly feeling lightheaded in the haze of alcohol, nicotine, and the blaring music of the club.

Doyoung reaches to the table for his glass, arm never leaving your shoulder, rolled shirt sleeve revealing a large and intricate cross tattoo on his forearm. At the sight of the ink you are jolted back to the reality that this man is not who you want him to be. You would normally have a hand palming his groin in the dim lights of the club, moaning into his mouth as he gripped the exposed skin on your back and whispered filthy strings of words into your ear.

But no, you had to bag the “Holier than Thou, Man of God.” Of course you did. This was not going to be good for your libido.

Your friend is suddenly dragging you by the hand to the bathroom, moving surprisingly fast in her towering heels.

“Sooooooooo, angel,” she whines from the single use stall she pulled you into after locking the door.

“What are you about to ask me to do?” you sigh, fixing your hair in the mirror as your friend hikes up her dress to pee.

“I’m going to take those two home with me,” she bluntly tells you, as you predicted.

“Yeah I think anyone in this club could have told me that,” you reply, rolling your eyes for dramatic effect. You didn’t really care what she did, only frustrated now that you had to make the hike home in an expensive taxi or wait for the unreliable train service.

“It’s fine, babe, I’ll get home okay,” you add, mustering the sweetest tone you can for your oldest friend. She deserved to blow off steam as much as next person, but you loved staying over at her luxury apartment on the weekends and the lazy mornings you spent sipping homemade cappuccinos and doing face masks.

“You’re the BESTTTT!” she nearly shouts, throwing her arms around you, damp hands fresh from washing them in the sink getting your skin wet. You laugh at her, congratulating her on getting her dick wet and ushering her out of the small room with a smack to her ass.

Back at the booth she wastes no time murmuring in the ears of the two eager men before they share a steamy three way kiss that results in Jungwoo tugging Jaehyun’s bottom lip with his teeth, looping an arm around his slim waist.

You are flicking through the various ride share apps on your phone to find the cheapest option, boots feeling uncomfortably tight on your feet after a long night. Last thing you want to do in this outfit is sit on an empty train and make the long walk uphill to your apartment complex once you arrive at your stop.

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asks, face suddenly close to yours again. There’s a level of concern in his eyes that you cannot read when he speaks to you.

“Calling for a car home, I don’t have the luxury of living right here downtown and had plans to crash at hers. I’m assuming my job doesn’t pay as well as yours and Jae’s,” you reply, only lifting your eyes up to meet his after you’ve spoken.

God his eyes are so pretty.

“Why don’t you stay at mine, I can sleep on the couch and my driver can take you home in the morning,” he offers, picking your phone out of your hand and locking the screen.

You open your mouth in protest before thinking more on the offer. His driver?! You would be crazy to turn him down and your friend is already halfway out the door headed towards what will undoubtedly be a night to remember.

You nod and quickly stand, holding a hand out for his, guiding him out the back door of the club. He’s making a call on his phone in a hushed tone while you slide your long coat over his blazer, still wrapped around your shoulders, Jungwoo giving you a small smile and wiggle of his fingers as he slides into the back of a cab.

“I love you angellllll,” your friend slurs out dramatically, knowing she is far less drunk than she appears, playing up the antics for the men around her. Jaehyun has an arm tucked loosely around her waist, grinning ear to ear as the evening wind ruffles his dark hair.

You pull your friend in for a hug before she ducks into the car, latching her lips immediately onto Jungwoo’s exposed neck, drawing a chuckle from you on the street.

Jaehyun pauses before getting in the car, dipping down to whisper right along the shell of your ear.

“Angel is it? I don’t know about that,” he practically moans out, voice breathy and deep.

“Seemed like a devil in disguise in that tight little skirt, slutty legs spread in the club for our sweet and innocent Doie,” he laughs out, laying the degrading tone on thick. His finger is under your chin, tipping it up to force you to look at him. Your heart is pounding and flying around your chest and you can feel your cheeks burn.

Suddenly there’s a hand on your back and you don’t have to look to know that Doyoung has stepped up behind you.

Jaehyun gives you a wink, pushing past you to plant a lingering kiss on Doyoung’s cheek, before turning and disappearing into the car.

Before you can say anything to Doyoung, a black town car replaces the cab in its spot on the busy street, Doyoung moving quickly to open the door for you, helping you in with a strong hand. He closes the door softly before moving around to the street side to slide in next to you, greeting the driver in the front pleasantly.

Your head is spinning and you desperately hope there is time to have a cigarette before going upstairs to Doyoung’s apartment, feeling anxiety creeping up in your chest.

Despite the spacious backseat, Doyoung can’t help but be pressed up against you, twisting to look at you as you make small talk. You watch him when he answers questions you ask and listen to a small story about a frustrating email exchange at work, as if the two of you had known each other forever.

Distracted by the beaded chain around his neck again, you reach over, taking the cross gingerly in between your pointer and middle finger, inspecting it. The metal is cold in your hand and nostalgia rushes over you as you hold it in your hand.

“I dip it in holy water every morning to help keep me grounded and ask that God bless my daily travels,” he offers, smiling lightly at you as he explains in earnest. You know by now that he isn’t lying, that there would be no reason for him to.

“I kiss it as well, asking him to bless my words and calm my mind in a world filled with temptation,” he continues, unwilling to break the heavy eye contact.

He reaches out and draws your fingers to his lips, still holding the cross, and kisses the small metal piece, catching the tips of your fingers with soft lips. They are warm and plush, sending jolts of electricity through your hand and to your chest. You have to shift in your seat to calm the throbbing in your core. This gesture shouldn’t be turning you on this much and you know now that if there is a hell, you surely are destined to take residence there.

The tension in the car is thick as you shiver, hand moving before you have a chance to think, bringing his hand and yours to your own lips, copying his kiss. You watch him gulp and pull his bottom lip in between his teeth as his eyes darken at the sight of the cross pressed to your lips.

Oh you are so royally fucked.

You watch him as he absently brushes the back of his hand against your own in the elevator ride to the top floor of the sleek and modern building. He lets his fingers tangle with yours briefly before holding his hand out when the door starts to open, bringing the foyer of his apartment into view.

You let a gasp fall from your lips, taking in the beautiful space around you. Lights flick on as you reach down to release the knot holding the laces of your boots in place, stepping out of them carefully by steadying yourself on a small table adorned with realistic looking fake flowers.

You try to keep your boots tidy under the coat rack, slipping off your coat and hanging it up and checking yourself in the small mirror above hooks of dangling keys. You notice one key with a Kuromi cover, smiling lightly and wondering if he had picked that out for himself. He will tell you one day that it is the key to his mailbox and one of the kids from his Sunday school class brought it in for him after they said Kuromi reminded them of Doyoung.

You follow him to the open living area which melts into the compact kitchen adorned with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. He’s opening the door to the fridge, pulling out a pitcher of water and pouring two glasses.

The apartment is warm but minimalistic in style, adorned with shades of cream, black and gray. You half expect to see a statue of Mary where the tv sits but there’s barely any religious imagery present. Maybe you had misjudged him after all.

As you close the space between you, you let his blazer slip from your shoulders, catching it and folding it gently in your hands, looking up towards him through your long lashes as you lean your hip against the cold edge of the counter, offering the blazer to him. Instead of taking the jacket from your hands, he leans forward, brushing a thumb across the high point of your cheek, examining your face.

“Let me know if there is anything I can get you to feel more at home, I want you to feel comfortable,” he murmurs, eyes flicking down briefly to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

You feel butterflies in your chest and despite how tired you know you should be, your heart is pounding and core tightening at how close he stands to you in his beautiful apartment, finally able to hear his voice clearly without the sounds of the club or busy streets of the city. It’s velvety smooth and even and his lips tip up at the edges when he finishes his kind statement. You want desperately to push up and capture them in yours but instead nod slowly, taking one of the glasses of water into your hand gulping down some of the cool liquid to try to quell the arousal building within you.

He brushes your skin with his thumb once more before taking the jacket from you, moving to his bedroom and returning moments later with a couple pillows and a large blanket, which he leaves on the plush couch.

“I don’t mind just sleeping out here,” you offer, scanning the comfortable looking room, knowing if you slept in the living room you might be able to more easily slip out unnoticed in the morning. You’ve never been one for tender mornings in bed with a one night stand and this situation shouldn’t be treated any different. You don’t believe he will actually make any move beyond what he has, despite the brief intimate moments you’ve shared since stepping out of the club.

“No no, I insist, take my bed. The bedding was just changed this morning,” he makes sure to note and you realize how rich this man truly must be if he avoided mentioning who exactly changed the sheets. Surely not Doyoung, with his thousands of dollars of clothing and jewelry on his body and on-call car service and penthouse suite.

He moves to open the door to the balcony, cool but comfortable night air flooding the living room as he hands you a vintage glass ashtray from the media cabinet.

“In case you need one before you go to sleep or in the night,” he offers, smiling lightly at the shocked look on your face.

“Jungwoo is always hanging around here when I’m working late and I’ve learned there is no way to stop people from doing something they want to do. I can’t change my friends and I wouldn’t want to. I have things in my life and things I have removed from my life but that is my own decision and shouldn’t affect my relationships with those I love,” he adds, fingers brushing over yours as they make contact to pass the item to you.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take a shower quickly and then let you have the bedroom and bathroom. If you need it, there’s a toilet near the elevator and some fresh fruit in the fridge,” he continues, resisting the urge to brush his lips over your bare shoulder.

You thank him and take your purse out to the balcony, closing the door lightly behind you but making sure it latches fully. Stepping forward towards the edge of the balcony, you quickly light a cigarette and feel calm wash over you as you watch the flickering lights of the city skyline. The cool air feels good against your cheeks and exposed abdomen, needing desperately to cool down. You try (and fail) to not let your mind wander to thoughts of Doyoung in a steamy rainfall shower, steam gathering on glossy mirrors and hot water racing down toned biceps and thighs.

You burn through it eagerly, extinguishing the cigarette in the ashtray and disposing of it in a small bin attached to the balcony’s railing before heading back inside. Doyoung is emerging from his bedroom in a tight white tank top and loose grey sweatpants, bare feet padding across the plush throw rug.

“I left you some clothes and towels on the bed but help yourself to my closet if you need something warmer,” he mutters awkwardly, the power balance shifting slightly as he stands in front of you in casual clothes, black rosary still visible proudly on his chest.

“I’ll wash up, if that’s okay? If you’re tired and want to sleep, don’t worry about waiting for me to finish. I usually stay up pretty late and I’m sure you have early mornings,” you ramble, scratching at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Take your time, I usually read for a while before bed,” he gestures to a small leather bound bible on the coffee table. Of course he does.

In the shower, you let the water rush over your body, using some of the small skincare bottles to wash your face and step out, massaging shower oil into your damp skin. You sigh into the warm white towel fresh off the warming rack and feel like you’re living in a dream.

Can’t I just stay here forever?

You know your modest apartment waits for you a few miles away, with your own much smaller and dingier balcony where you like to sketch in your journal as you watch birds settle on the hanging flower baskets. You could never see yourself living full time in the cold of the city, barely any green space and garbage littering the streets.

Checking outside the bathroom door before emerging, the coast is clear as you step back into his spacious bedroom, lightly touching the clothing he had laid out for you. A large and faded t-shirt that appears to be from a church camp is folded neatly, logo barely still visible.

A package of unopened cotton boxer briefs is next to the shirt, knowing he must have been panicking thinking of how he could offer you something to wear without it seeming creepy. But he seems to at least have experience taking care of stranded tipsy guests (even if they usually were just Jungwoo and someone he brought home from the bar). You pull the shirt over your head and it falls easily to your mid-thigh, skimming over your hardened nipples, painful as they make contact with the cool air from the vent.

Sliding on the boxers, you pull them up to your waist and the shirt covers them fully. You decide against the sweatpants next to the shirt, knowing they will be far too long for you and opt to instead roll on the pair of long socks before placing the pants back on the dresser. You listen at the door for any noise from the living room, hearing a light hum of music you can’t decipher. Pressing your ear closer you recognize Debussy floating through the air and let out a small smile.

You’re about to tuck yourself into the king sized bed before you realize you didn’t bring the water glass in with you. Scanning the room you don’t see one and silently curse yourself.

Sliding the door open quietly, you stick your head out tentatively, his head lifting to look at you. He looks absolutely adorable, bundled up in a fluffy blanket with his small bible in his lap and two scented candles lit on the table. The music did turn out to be Debussy, playing softly on a record player in the corner.

“Is the music too loud?” he asks, moving as if he is going to turn it off.

“No no, it’s beautiful,” you breathe out in reply, sliding out from the door and covering your chest with your arms, self conscious. This causes the hem of the shirt to hike up, exposing a sliver of the white briefs covering your lower half.

Doyoung’s eyes trail down your body, as if wanting to mentally capture this image of you dressed in his clothes, standing sheepishly in front of him. He pushes away thoughts of you on your knees in front of him, mouthing along his length through his sweatpants while he tugs on your silky and damp hair.

“I, um, just came out for some water,” you add, crossing to the counter to grab the glass before returning to stand awkwardly next to the couch.

“Why does she call you angel?” he asks suddenly, pulling an arm up on the back of the couch, unintentionally opening up a perfect sized space for you to sit next to him.

You smile lightly and cross to sit next to him, perching on the edge of the cushion so as to not crowd him.

“My middle name is Angelica,” you replied softly. “She just took a liking to the pet name many years ago.”

He smiles softly at this explanation, suddenly aware that his other hand has strayed to the hem of his shirt hanging loose on your torso.

“Angel…” he tries, feeling the way it sounds in his voice, feeling the way the words taste as they roll off his tongue. He smirks, pinching the fabric at the edge of the shirt in between his fingers and releasing it.

“Can I call you that?” he breathes out, suddenly closer to your face than you had realized.

“Only if you’re a good boy,” you manage to say in an even tone, hand finally reaching out to touch his chest, flattening against his toned pecs, metal beads digging into your palm.

His eyes flutter, brain clearly short circuiting at the mention of praise, fingers stilling but breathing becoming more labored.

“Can I please kiss you?” you ask, eyes and voice hopeful. You palm the cross on the rosary, holding it tightly in your hand as you pull gently, bringing yourself closer to Doyoung as your eyes slip shut, not waiting for a response.

His lips are on yours suddenly, pressing firmly as his hand flies to your lower back, pressing you flush against his chest, capturing your hand in between your bodies. You refuse to let go of the rosary, pulling tighter so he’s forced to deepen the kiss.

You feel his hand push up the back of the shirt and up your back, as if reaching for a bra to unhook and you can’t help but smile against his mouth, knowing he is far less innocent than he seems.

You rise up on your knees, moving your legs to straddle him on the couch, suddenly feeling something firm against your bare thigh. Your grin grows, nuzzling against his nose teasingly.

“Well, well, look who isn’t such a good boy after all,” you growl out, unable to control how horny you are for this man under you.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss, brows furrowed in confusion at your comment. Reaching between your bodies, he pulls out the leather bible and you flush deeply, unable to process that you thought it was his erection.

You avert your eyes from his and reach an arm up to touch the back of your neck nervously but his hand quickly grabs your wrist as he moves your hand to his lap, eyes darkening. When he pushes you down against his sweatpants you feel him harder than you thought he would be, not to mention way bigger than you thought he would be.

“Who said I was a good boy, angel?” he asked quietly, almost sounding annoyed with you. He grips your wrist tighter, pulling you closer to him before capturing your lips in his again.

It takes you a moment to respond, brain foggy at the name and sequence of events that had just unfolded. It doesn’t take you long to recover before slipping your tongue into his mouth hungrily, fingers lacing his hair to pull him desperately close.

You can’t help but move quickly with him, spreading your thighs to grind slow circles into his clothed crotch, biting back moans that bubble in your throat.

Hands are suddenly tugging at the hem of the shirt and you quickly oblige, peeling off the thin cotton and discarding it on the floor. Your chest is heaving as you sit on his lap in just the white boxer briefs, nipples erect and back arched to push your full chest towards him.

Doyoung hungrily licks his lips, eyes darting over your body as if there’s a time limit to the amount of time he has to look. You know you look good and he knew from the minute he saw you walk in the club that you would be on his lap, tits bouncing as he pressed up towards you with an experimental thrust. A small groan slides from his spit slicked lips as he slides one hand to your lower back and the other to cup your breast.

“Good God,” he lets out before lowering his mouth to your nipple, flicking eyes up to watch as you tumble contrasting curses from your plump lips.

He moves his mouth expertly, tongue laving over the sensitive skin, teeth dragging against your tight nipple. His hand on your lower back feels huge, fingers spread wide and gripping at your flesh as if you will disappear if he loosens his grip.

“Fuck me right here,” you can’t help but mutter into his open mouth after a particularly loud gasp flies from your mouth when you feel the tip of his dick collide with your clothed clit.

He pulls back, face seemingly questioning himself, eyes flicking over to the coffee table with the bible before turning upwards and fluttering shut.

You’re amazed at how this man can have his tit in your mouth one minute and then the next…

“Wait, are you praying?!” you ask in shock, stifling the laughter that builds in your throat.

He peeks at you with one eye open, smiling lightly before closing his eyes again and humming out an incoherent reply.

“Amen,” he says softly after a few more moments have passed.

You don’t have time to question him further when he quickly pulls his shirt over his head, revealing tight and toned abs and letting his broad chest crowd you in what could only be described as a bear hug. He pulls you close to his chest and you can feel his heartbeat reverberating through your own skin.

“The angel wants to get fucked, does she?” he growls as he digs his nails into your back.

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” he adds before flipping you over suddenly, standing above you as he slides the boxers down to your ankles, leaving your socks on.

He then moves his hands to his own waistband, removing the sweatpants and revealing his hard cock, already flushed and angry with arousal. As he bends down, the rosary dangles from his neck and you can’t help but stare.

You’re laid out, exposed in front of him as he drops to his knees, nudging your knees to widen in front of him. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, controlling and calculated. You have to ask yourself the same question you asked in the club, who the fuck was this guy?

“You asked if I was praying earlier,” he speaks quietly, long fingers dragging along your sensitive inner thigh, avoiding where you want him the most.

“I just like to thank God before I eat,” he adds, eyes glimmering with mischief as he pushes forward, tongue licking a long stripe along your dripping core, sending shockwaves throughout your body.

Your brain is swimming with pleasure at the filthy words he spoke and the way his mouth is warm against your burning core, tugging on his hair and slipping your hand down to his neck to stroke the shorter strands there to encourage him.

His muffled moans send vibrations along your folds and shivers up your spine as he laps at you like it’s the fucking last supper. You feel your release close, thighs pulling in to tighten around his face. He shoves them back open every time they threaten to suffocate him, giving him access to every inch of you.

Your orgasm creeps up on you and you are suddenly screaming his name, head thrown back on the back of the couch, vision blinding white. Your eyes are clenched shut as you make every attempt to slow your heavy breathing.

You feel warm hands under your thighs and realize he's lifting you from the couch. You let your arms fall lazily around his shoulders and your head loll over as he carries you to the bedroom. Laying you gently on your back, he’s suddenly leaning over you, lips brushing against your jaw, peppering kisses up to your ear and leaving more along your hairline.

“That was heavenly,” you sigh out, feeling dizzy from the soft gestures.

He smiles and pushes your hair from your face, leaning down to kiss you. You can’t get enough of his lips, every time they press over yours you’re drawn in closer, wanting more and more.

“I know you said you wanted me to fuck you on the couch and as much as I would love to bend you over and slam into you, I want to see your face when I make you cream on my dick,” he says as if it’s the simplest and most normal sentence on the planet. He sits up, reaching a veiny hand over to the bedside table and into the shallow drawer there.

Your mouth hangs open for a moment until you feel his fingers on you again, rubbing slow circles on you, gathering your post orgasm arousal as he tears open a condom that is carefully dangling between his lips. He slicks up his rock hard erection with your wetness before sliding it on and running a hand through his now messy hair.

You adjust yourself on the bed, propping your knees up so he can crawl between them. He brings his face close to yours and drags his tongue lazily against your lower lip before pushing into you.

Your eyes widen, feeling the stretch of his massive cock and the look on his face when he finally feels himself inside you. You swear he’s seen the second coming of Christ and you wish you could take a picture of the pure bliss.

It doesn’t take long for him to pick up a consistent pace of pumping in and out of you, grunts and moans falling from his lips and sounding almost like he’s singing. You almost come at the sight of the rosary dangling above you and moving with each thrust, knowing how fucking filthy this is but how it’s the most turned on you’ve been in ages.

He’s close and you don’t know how much longer you can last after him so you hook your legs around his back and push on him, silently begging to flip over. He obliges and lets you return to a similar position from the couch, him seated against the pillows and you rising up and down on his cock. This drives you insane, watching his face contort in pleasure as you ride him, letting his name fall over and over from your lips like your own prayer.

“Angel, I’m so close,” he moans, pulling you so tight against his chest that you feel yourself becoming one with him. You move together, moan together, and release in strangled cries together.

You pull back, out of breath and struggling to compose yourself, glancing down at your chest to see an imprint of the cross in between swollen breasts. He has a hazy, happy grin across his face and you know you have to look the same in this moment.

He reaches out, brushing pads of his fingers across the imprint on your chest before dipping down to kiss at the cross mark.

You think your heart might explode in that very moment, suddenly visualizing the two of you holding hands in a church pew or leaning over candles, lighting them and bowing your heads in silence.

What the fuck has gotten into you?

–

Once he finishes tucking the plush duvet around your naked body, he lays flat on his back, exhaling in relaxation for what sounded like the first time that night, and humming out an almost angelic note.

“And on the seventh day, God looked at all he had made and rested from the work he had done,” Doyoung paraphrased, grinning at his joke, turning slightly to nuzzle his face into your bare shoulder.

Your cheeks warmed and eyes welled as you watched your dark haired lover drift off into sleep, arms laying beside him, not clinging to you as they had been all night, as if fully relaxed at how you seemingly fit so easily into his bed, into his life.

Checking the time, you unlock your phone, lower the brightness, and fire off a couple check-in texts to your friend and one to your mother asking if you completed your sacraments as a child and if she knows where your old prayer book is. You can’t believe this man is reigniting this in you and while you know no amount of good sex is going to fully pull you back into a toxic institution, you see the good in him and wonder if there is a world where the two of you can balance his faith and your more progressive views.

The next morning comes quicker than you had anticipated and light is streaming through the sheers covering the floor to ceiling windows. You glance over to see a still sleeping Doyoung, surprised once you check the time, knowing he probably starts his day at the office before you. You check your phone, frustrated at how quickly it will soon be the time when your boss is checking in to see if you are working from home or coming into the office. You send off a quick message to let them know you will have a late start to the day, working from your apartment.

They reply with a teasing tone, noting that you and your friend must have gotten into some fun the night prior since she had called off entirely. Oh boy, couldn’t wait to hear about that.

You roll over, seeing Doyoung’s eyes open in narrow slits, running a wet tongue over his dry lips.

“Morning star,” he smiles at you, placing that same strong hand on your lower back, pulling you gently closer to him.

“Hi,” you squeak out, giggling as his fingers brush lightly over your spine, tickling you.

“Can I make you coffee?” he asks, pressing lips softly to your temple, holding there and breathing in the scent of your hair, still faintly holding the floral notes from his shampoo.

“You don’t have morning prayers to get to?” you tease, pushing your lips towards his, silently asking for a kiss.

He pulls back, knitting his brows together and almost rolling his eyes.

“You really have me all wrong you know,” he starts, pushing strands of hair from your face before cupping your cheek gently, just as he had in the kitchen last night when you first got back.

“Yes, I have my beliefs and values that ground me. But that doesn’t mean I abstain from every activity marked as a sin in the bible,” he continued, his voice even and strong but not mean.

“I would have thought that would have been obvious by everything we did last night,” he added, pressing a little more firmly on your lower back, gliding his palm down to the slope of your ass to grasp at the skin there.

You gulp audibly, startled by his candid admission. Maybe you did have him all wrong. Maybe you judged this book by the cover too quickly, your opinion shadowed by everything you knew from the devout adults you had grown up around. You had always assumed it was black and white, no gray space between for any compromise.

All you could do in that moment, overcome with emotions you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge, was pull him close to you and connect your hips with his to slowly create friction between the two of you. You hungrily captured his lips in yours, sighing into him as his fingers gently tugged your hair and brought you to another two unholy orgasms.

–

You don’t bother showering again, opting to take Doyoung up on that ride home from his driver who arrives in less than fifteen minutes, despite the morning rush hour traffic. You’re soon stepping out onto the busy streets, feet back in those painful boots and coat wrapped tightly around you to cover your revealing outfit you still can’t believe you wore out all night (but probably have to thank for this entire encounter).

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t a lost little angel!” comes a familiar voice, catching you as you are approaching the black car, the driver standing with a neutral expression waiting to open the door for you.

“Jungwoo, hey,” you start, stepping towards the man who is placing his motorcycle helmet on the seat, arms crossed as he leans gently against the expensive bike.

He’s wearing low rise leather pants with a matching belt adorned with a large silver buckle. His jacket is open and you can see a tight and cropped red shirt underneath, exposing much of his toned abs and navel. Nude color blocking rose up the sides of the shirt, covered in black crescent moons and he is wearing a stack of gold chains tight around his neck. A large green stone is dangling from his ear, moving as he speaks.

His hair is fluffy from the helmet, eyes smudged lightly with dark liner, most likely still from the night before. He looks absolutely unreal and your mind drifts to images of your friend pressed between him and the equally sexy Jaehyun in the crowded bar, stirring tension deep in your core.

“How was your night?” you add, stepping closer to him, curious about what your friend had gotten into.

“I’m sure just as sinful as yours by the look of this walk of shame,” he almost sneers back, tone unmatched to the large grin covering his face from his lips to his eyes. He grabs your phone from you and punches his number in, punctuating with a sultry wink. His eyes are flicking up and down your body dramatically, making overly exaggerated facial expressions at you.

You roll your eyes at him, turning to head to the car, wagging your fingers at him seductively and putting extra emphasis in your steps as you know he has his eyes glued to your ass as you slide into the car.

When Doyoung emerges from the shower with a towel tied low around his waist he finds Jungwoo lounging in his favorite chair in the living room, flipping through a magazine he had left here the week before. He looks up to make eye contact with Doyoung, smiling and letting a low whistle slide out his lips.

“Don’t start, Woo,” Doyoung warns curtly, pouring two cups of coffee and preparing them the way they both like.

“Look look, I have Father Lee on speed dial, he’s ready to do an emergency confession for you in the lobby of your office if you need it this morning,” he laughs back, closing the magazine and accepting the mug.

Doyoung rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to reach over and slap the back of Jungwoo’s head. He knows his friend is exaggerating but he had consequently already sent Mark a text that he would stop by the church later that day for a chat. Having one of your oldest friends be a priest that was known for being more on the liberal side had its perks.

“Just because I don’t flaunt my escapades all over town or upload racy videos into the shared DJJ iCloud album, doesn’t mean I’m not getting my dick wet,” he replies after a long sip of much needed coffee.

Jungwoo almost spits out his coffee at the vulgar comment, lips twisting up into a wicked smile as he watches his friend, relaxed and shirtless mid-morning on a work day.

“Something’s different about you, Kim Doyoung,” Jungwoo chuckles, tapping back into his conversation with Jaehyun from earlier, who had frantically texted him from the office that Doyoung hadn’t shown up for their morning meeting and wasn’t replying to any of his texts.

“I guess you could say I was touched by an angel,” Doyoung replies wickedly, winking at Jungwoo before standing and letting his towel fall from his hips, whipping it at leather clad knees before walking slowly back into the bedroom.

Jungwoo’s eyes widen and a smile spreads across his face, watching his friend’s toned ass move away from him and examining the red marks dotting his broad back.

“Oh Jaeeeeee, I have an idea for something that could be fun and oh so messy,” Jungwoo whispers into the phone as he steps out onto the balcony, lighting a blunt in the cool morning air, surrounded by the sounds of the bustling city below.

Part Two TEASER + Tag List NOW LIVE HERE

#doyoung smut #doyoung x reader #nct smut #nct x reader #nct fanfic #religious trauma slay #djj x reader #djj smut #jungwoo smut #jaehyun smut

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writingsbyzuzu · 2 months

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gimme a formal event w/hasan? 🤩

the wedding of blaire and ludwig

the one where ludwig and blaire get married, and it occurs to hasan how crazy he is about you.

warnings: innuendos, sex implications

"God damn, if I knew you were going to look this good, I would have you marching down the aisle," Hasan chuckles. You roll your eyes, adjusting your earrings. "We'll see when you get the courage to do so," you sass. You look over at yourself in the mirror, adjusting your earrings one last time.

"Baby, you look fucking stunning, now we have to get going, seriously. I think Blaire will murder you if you're late." Hasan motions for the two of you to hurry out the door.

"She'd be within her rights, it is her wedding day, and I am the maid of honor," you grin at him, stepping through the doorway towards the car. Hasan rolls his eyes in turn, shutting and locking the door.

"I'd prefer if people didn't murder my girlfriend, actually."

The two of you split up upon arrival, with Hasan searching for Ludwig, and you for Blaire. You find her in one of the tents, getting her makeup. "Hey beautiful, happy wedding day!" You approach her and she gives you a quick hug. "It looks great out there," you tell her.

"Dude I'm so stressed out and need a coffee," she groans. You nod in agreement, sitting down in a folding chair so the hair stylist can do your hair. "Is anyone doing that or do I have to?" you ask her.

"Maple is supposed to be getting them," Blaire explains, the makeup artist applying eyeshadow on her. "Oh thank god, because I think Hasan has the keys and I will not be able to find him until after the ceremony."

Blaire laughs at this, her nose crinkling. "Oh, you definitely won't. I have no clue what they're doing in the groomsmen tent, but you're stuck here with us until this is over." She waits for a moment as the eye lash curler is brought out, then looks over at you.

"How is that, by the way? Any chance our roles are reversing anytime soon?"

It's your turn to laugh, doing your best not to throw your head back and bother the stylist. "Good luck, that's something you'd have to talk to him about," you shake your head slightly.

"Oh, I will."

Two hours later, after the arrival of other bridesmaids and the desperately needed coffee, the four bridesmaids (yourself included), are adjusting the last touches on Blaire.

As you're shifting the flowers in her hair to look just right, you can see Hasan approach the tent. You hold up a finger to him, before moving a little white flower in Blaire's hair. Perfect. You head over to where Hasan is at the entrance of the tent. Hasan shakes his head at the full sight of you, in awe.

"Goddamn you, woman. You looked good before we even left the house, you're just a temptress at this point."

He puts a hand on your waist, guiding you to him. "Baby, what do you want?" you ask him, grinning ear to ear. Hasan leans in and presses a quick kiss to your lips.

"Well, I'm supposed to check on how it's going because it's almost time for the ceremony to start, but you're distracting me, like the absolute temptress you are. I cannot believe you would lead me so astray."

He puts his other hand on your chin, leaning in to kiss you once more, your hands grabbing at his shoulders.

The two of you are interrupted by throats clearing. Blaire and the other bridesmaids are watching the two of you, Blaire's eyebrow raised. "It's my wedding, or did you forget?" she teases.

Hasan chuckles, shaking his head. "Hurry up in there, it's starting soon." He kisses your forehead, stalking off.

He still thinks you're looking divine thirty minutes, as the bridesmaids go down the aisle. You look up at him, he shakes his head slightly with a smirk, winking at you. Your face heats up a little at the act, and you look down at the bouquet, missing Hasan's grin at your flushed reaction.

His eyes don't leave you the whole ceremony, even as Blaire marches down the aisle. How could they? Not when you looked that damn good to him. His two best friends get married, but you were consuming his thoughts in that dress.

It's what he tells you in the reception hall at the dinner.

"I could not focus on a damn thing all day," he murmurs as you sip on the soup. You shoot him a confused look. "You just look so...indescribable in that dress. I'm going to have fun taking it off later."

You nearly choke on your soup.

Hasan stands up. "I'd like to make a toast, as it's now time to commence the speeches."

It's your turn to zone out, drinking in how his hair looks in the light, his shining smile, and how the suit seems to fit him just right. You keep looking up at him talk, your eyes wide, in an absolute daze.

After a few minutes of talking, you're pulled away mentally by Hasan gesturing at you. "And not to mention, Blaire introduced me to the love of my life and for that, I'm so goddamn grateful."

Hasan looks down at your sitting figure, you giving him a heaven struck look. He grins back at you. "So grateful," he whispers. "I love you," you mouth at him. Hasan winks, looking back up, handing the microphone to someone else.

Overall, you'd both call the day a success, you think, as the two of you dance to some slow song on the dance floor a few hours later, the night slowly winding down. No one died, Blaire and Ludwig got married, and there were no major issues.

Hasan looks down at you, thinking for a moment before he speaks, breaking a silence that had spanned for quite a while between you. "I stand by this morning, if I had known you would look this damn good, I would have had you marching down that aisle to me instead, forget Blaire and Lud."

You laugh, shaking your head. "I'm beyond serious," he insists, his eyebrows furrowing, taking a step back to look at your face. "Oh yeah?" you muse, raising an eyebrow back.

He nods not once, but twice, continuing to sway the music. "And when can I be expecting the offer of that opportunity?" you tease, as he goes to spin you. He holds you in his arms post swing, continuing to look at you with an indescribable expression.

"Soon. You'll be getting that offer soon," he insists, leaning in close to you. "I'll be expecting it," you murmur back.

"Good, because I mean it." He eyes you for a moment, and when you smile at him, he puts his lips to yours, his eyes fluttering closed.

You realize later he wasn't lying during dinner.

#hasanabi x reader #hasan piker x reader #this ending was a little shit but hey i wrote something i didn't hate for once

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lookingforariaa · 3 months

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Attack On Titan: Actor AU ᝰ.ᐟ

ᯓ★ From the very first "Attack on Titan" table read, Eren Jaeger and Y/N L/N been locked in a personal war. They had hated each other, for their own personal reasons. But, now, fate (or the writers) had dealt them a cruel hand: their characters, the series' central love interests, were about to share their first intimate scene. actor!eren x actress!reader

Ensconced in the makeup chair, you flipped through the script with practiced ease. Your brow furrowed in concentration as you absorbed the scene directions and drilled the lines for today's shoot into your memory.

If 13 year old you thought it was bad enough having to share your first kiss with Eren Jaeger at the end of the season 2 finale with a bunch of camera's pointed at you, she would probably want to kill herself for this scene.

Smiles were plastered on for fans, talk show appearances, the whole nine yards. But everyone on set knew the hatred simmering beneath the surface between Eren and you. But your reasons for the animosity ran deeper than just hating him for the funsies.

You'd always bristled at entitled people like Eren Yeager. His producer father had undoubtedly greased the wheels for his leading role alongside you. He hadn't earned it like everyone in this series had, and he had gotten one of the leading roles in the series.

It wasn't fair. The rich always win.

The first table read had confirmed your worst fears. You had extended a friendly hand, introducing yourself as his love interest and the second leading role in the series.

Eren's response? A dismissive scoff and a head-to-toe sweep that spoke volumes. That self-satisfied smirk ignited a fire in your gut. People like him, who waltzed into success on silver platters, were everything you weren't. You'd clawed your way up, and his arrogance was a slap in the face to everything you'd achieve

The hatred towards Eren only intensified on the first filming day. His arrogance wasn't confined to you. He barked orders at crew members and treated his assistant like an indentured servant. Your blood pressure skyrocketed.

These were people, not props for his entitled performance.

He treated them like they weren't human.

The scene triggered a raw nerve. You knew all too well the sting of dehumanization. The humiliation. Your mother was a single parent forced into sex work to keep a roof over your head. Even if you lived in a brothel full of sex workers, you didn't ask god for anything else other than to get your mom another job.

You had watched your mom try her best to hide you from the men coming in so you wouldn't have to fall into the hands of prostitution as well. The way those men treated her - a flicker of desire followed by callous dismissal, like a discarded rag.

Like she wasn't even worthy enough to be called a human.

You had clawed your way out. Your striking features - the cascading dark blonde hair and the mesmerising hazel eyes and amazing acting skills - were your ticket to this role, a chance to give your mother a life she deserved.

Seeing Eren was like looking into a mirror of your traumatic past, seeing your mom thrashed around like an object.

Blinking back the sleep in your eyes after having drinks with Sasha the entire night, the scripts pages wavered in your hands, the words blurring at the edges.

Sasha's death still felt unreal. You'd sought solace in her company after they killed her character, clinging to the real Sasha for as long as possible.

A yawn stretched your lips into a wide, ungainly shape. The gentle hum of the hair curlers and the soft touch of the makeup brushes did little to dispel the exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin.

The last layer of blush being applied felt strangely cool against your warm cheeks. You lowered your heavy lashes as they started applying a gentle layer of mascara to your makeup as the finishing touch.

The problem with Attack On Titan was the fact that all the makeup had to look natural. But at the same time all the girls, especially you and Mikasa, had to look beautiful.

Which wasn't hard, because both of you were drop dead gorgeous. But both of you were too humble to ever admit it out loud.

You skimmed through the script one last time as the Matt, your gay best friend who mostly does your hair, brushes them out slightly to make them look more natural.

Perfect," he sighed dramatically, a playful smile on his face. "Ready for today's shoot?"

You rolled your eyes, a groan escaping your lips. "Absolutely not."

"Yeah, figured," Matt chuckled. "t's funny honestly. Do you actually have to ride his thigh? God, the writers hate you."

"Oh shut up!" You scoffed, slapping his arm with your script as you looked a laughing Matt through the mirror.

"Okay, come on, they're asking for you."

"Tell them I'll be right out."

The director barked out his final instructions, taking help from Isayama as his gaze flickering between you and Eren.

Both of you stood with arms crossed and brows furrowed, listening carefully to the director and Isayam. Eren, clad in his iconic faded green shirt and a the black jacket over it.

While you wore a white button-up strained slightly against your chest, the small black corset tied right beneath your chest emphasizing your hourglass figure beneath it.

"So, remember, Y/N you hate him in this scene, you despise him." The director emphasized, looking down at the script.

"Yeah, that's gonna be easy to act out." You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Eren smirked, leaning down for his mouth to reach your ear. "Don't forget what scene we're filming." His breath tickled your ear. You didn't know what sent the chills down your spine-- his mouth being so close to your ear, or the fact that he was referring to how you had absolutely no control in this scene.

The director clapped his hands, snapping you and Eren out of your silent standoff. You cleared your throat, forcing your attention away from the infuriating green shirt and towards the man barking orders.

"Y/N," he said, pointing at you, "when you say, 'So you're going to kill billions of people for what?!' I want a reaction. Fling your arms wide, like you're trying to grasp the weight of those lives. Let your anger crackle in your eyes, burning into Eren as you demand an answer." You nodded.

His gaze shifted to Eren, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Eren, when you deliver the line, 'For you,' I want hesitation. Let out a sigh that speaks volumes. Run your hand through your hair, whatever. Turn away, build the drama. Then, do a dramatic turn around back towards Y/N, unleashing that scream with every ounce of conviction you have. Got it?"

Eren nodded understandingly, pursing his lips. "Got it."

"Great! Let's get this scene rolling!" The director boomed, clapping his hands. A flurry of activity followed as the set crew started getting the prison set ready for filming, fixing any minor misplaces in it.

You and Eren stood by, the tension crackling between you like live wires. Within minutes, the set was prepped, the harsh overhead lights casting stark shadows on the fabricated brick walls. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the emotional rollercoaster about to unfold.

"Scene 27, take 1."

"Lights," The director sighed, "Cameras." He pointed, "And.. action!"

The sterile light glinted off the metal bars, casting a harsh glow on the tense scene unfolding. You stood across from Eren, your voice laced with barely contained fury

"I know what I'm doing," you spat, the words sharp as shards of ice. "But do you, Eren? Do you have any goddamn clue what you're doing?!"

Eren was positioned before a cracked mirror, avoided your gaze. His knuckles tightened around the chipped porcelain sink, the strain evident in his posture. A sigh, heavy and laced with despair, escaped his lips as he stared down at his clenched fists.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah?" you shrieked, disbelief and frustration clawing at your throat. "Because from where I'm standing, it doesn't seem like a single thought has crossed that thick skull of yours!"

Your hands flew to your hair, tugging at the strands in agitation. Frustration boiled over, and you flung your arms wide, the metal cot scraping against the wall with a jarring clang

"Eren!" you roared, your voice echoing off the cold stone walls. "You're about to make billions die at the hands of a horrifying death! And for what?!"

Eren remained silent, his back a rigid wall against your onslaught. A shaky breath escaped him, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth seemed ready to shatter. Slowly, he raised his hand, running it through his hair in a gesture of defeat. His eyes, half-lidded and shadowed, flickered towards his reflection in the mirror, a flicker of something akin to shame crossing his features.

Then, with a dramatic flourish, he spun around, his voice laced with a desperate conviction that bordered on hysteria.

"For you!" he screamed, the words echoing through the cell. But as quickly as the outburst erupted, it died down. A defeated sigh escaped his lips, and he repeated the words, this time a mere whisper, "For you..." His half lidded eyes met yours.

"Well, that's fucking stupid!" You screamed out.

"Cut!" You furrowed your eyebrows and turned your head back to the director. "Y/N! Your resolve breaks for a second, okay? You still love him deep down and when he looks at you like that your heart aches." The director says, clutching at his own heart to emphasise. "So wait for a second, show emotion, and then say the stupid line."

"Idiot." Eren muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

"Okay, got it. Everything else was fine?" You asked, ignoring his comment.

"Yeah." The director responded, "Let's take it again from Eren's line."

"Scene 27, take 2."

"Lights, camera.. action!"

Eren sighs once more, "For you.."

A tremor ran through your composure. Your eyelids fluttered shut for a brief moment, a shaky breath escaping your lips. When your eyes reopened, the anger had returned, but it felt brittle, tinged with a flicker of something else - confusion, maybe even a hint of pain. It was a fleeting glimpse, quickly masked by the familiar fury

"Well that's.. that's fucking stupid!" You stammered, trying to showcase your characters resolve breaking.

"Is it?! I think it's fucking stupid that you aren't understanding that Marley wants to take you so you can make pure royal blooded babies with my brother so they can take the founding titan easily!" Eren roared, turning back to you.

"Babies?" The word hung in the air, a foreign concept amidst the weight of Eren's plan. The anger you wielded began to crumble at the edges.

A shaky laugh escaped you, a humorless sound that echoed off the cold stone walls. "Is that it, Eren? All this so I don't sleep with your fucking brother?!"

Eren's jaw clenched tight. He ran his hands through his hair again, his voice laced with a desperate edge. "You aren't fucking getting it! They'll use you, Y/N! Turn you into a breeding machine for their twisted agenda and then kill you! This way, at least you're..." His voice trailed off, the defiance flickering for a moment.

"Atleast i'm what? Safe? You fucking sociopath! You're killing all these people for one person?!"

"Shut up."

"That's what you are.. a murderer, a psychopath!"

"Shut the fuck up." He growled, grabbing you by your neck and pushing you against the wall, choking you slightly. The camera followed both of you in kind.

You smiled, scoffing. "Or what? You'll kill me?"

He choked you harder, making you stretch your neck up as you whimpered slightly.

"I told you to shut the fuck up."

"Make me."

A tense silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the ragged rasp of your breath. Disgust simmered in your eyes, a mirror image of the icy loathing reflected back from Eren. The space between you crackled with unspoken hostility

He was supposed to kiss you now, but you were glad he wasn't, otherwise you might've barfed in his mouth. He looked at you with the same expression etched on his face: disgust.

"Cut!" The director yelled out and Eren rolled his eyes, sighing as he released your neck and immediately walked away from you.

The director slammed his script down, the sound echoing through the soundstage. "Alright, what's going on here? You two are supposed to be passionately making out, not glaring at each other like you're about to duel."

Eren scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe that's the point. Maybe our characters wouldn't actually kiss in this situation."

You crossed your arms, your eyes narrowing. "Oh, and why wouldn't they? Because your fragile ego can't handle kissing someone who doesn't fawn over you?"

Eren's smirk vanished, replaced by a cold stare. "Funny you should mention ego. It takes a certain level of delusion to think anyone would be interested in someone who constantly reeks of desperation."

You bristled. "Desperation? At least I earned this role on my own merit, unlike some nepo baby." You smirked. "At least I don't need a daddy with a fat wallet to buy my way into a role."

Eren's voice turned low and dangerous. "Careful. You wouldn't want to upset the golden goose who keeps this whole production afloat, would you?"

Y/N leaned forward, her voice a steely whisper. "Don't you dare pull that daddy producer stunt on me. You think your money can buy you everything? It can't buy respect, and it certainly can't buy genuine affection."

Eren's smirk faltered for a moment, his jaw clenching, much to your amusement. "Oh, touchy subject? Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

The director sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, can we focus? This scene is supposed to be about raw emotions, about their need for each other. Let's take it again, both of you are professionals, I know you can handle it."

"Scene 27, take 3."

"Lights, Camera... Action!"

The boy holding the movie clip snapper sighs, exhausted, even from a simple job as his. "Scene 27... take 23."

"Okay, guys, If it doesn't happen this time then we'll have to redo this tomorrow. And then we won't have time to film the scenes scheduled for tomorrow, hence the season 4 premiere will get delayed. So, just be professionals for once. You aren't kids anymore." The director sighs, putting his cap back on as he leans back in the chair.

Both you and Eren get back into place as the director yells action and Eren quickly slams you against the wall.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Or what? You'll kill me?"

He choked you harder, making you stretch your neck up as you whimpered slightly.

"I told you to shut the fuck up."

"Make me."

You and Eren looked at each other for a second and you almost thought he was going to chicken out once more, so did the director as he rolled his eyes and slid a hand across his face.

But he didn't.

Eren quickly brought his lips to yours, rough and full of all the hatred that's been simmering between both of you all this while. It was a frantic kiss, as the director had wanted. Both of you were breathless as his hand stopped choking you and went to the side of your neck and the other clutched at your waist, and your hands went to grasp at his hair.

It was a tangled mess of limbs as your heads moved together at the speed of light, begging to deepen the kiss, begging to explore every inch of each others mouth. The air crackled with unspoken desire, the kiss a whirlwind of exploring touches and desperate needy moans.

Everything was a blur. Gasping breaths mingled with the frantic rhythm of your kiss, his tongue had even made an appearance. It surprised you, because when kissing a co-star the other doesn't use tongue to keep the kiss professional and to show the person respect.

But what would Eren Jaeger know about respect?

His hands gripped your waist, a possessive ache that mirrored your owns as one of your hands tugged at his hair and the other caressed his cheek. The kiss deepened, your heads moving together frantically, a battle fought on bruised lips and tangled tongues.

A whimper escaped your lips as Eren grabbed your hair and tilted your head backwards, the kiss turning urgent, so frantic. It felt like an eternity, a culmination of unspoken longing poured into this single, desperate moment.

Your hands twisted in his hair, pulling at it harshly on purpose, hoping it would hurt. With the groan that he let out into the kiss, you were sure it did.

Then, with a swift movement, Eren shoved his knee in between your legs, your surprised moan swallowed by the next searing kiss.

His hand shot out, gripping your throat as your heads whipped back and forth, a frantic chase for deepening the kiss. A tender moan left your lips as Eren's grip on your throat tightened, his tongue thrusting deeper. The sound of your kiss echoed in the room, into the mic, a desperate rhythm. You let out another soft, breathy moan and it was muffled into his mouth as he tried to get even closer to you.

And with the directors snap, which was your cue to start grinding on his thigh, you did just that. A soft moan escaped your lips and muffled into his mouth. "Eren." You sighed into the kiss, as you disconnected your lips and connected your forehead with his, grinding on his thigh.

Fuck. You didn't expect this to happen, especially not with Eren, but you could feel your pussy pulsate and throb with need. You just hoped he couldn't feel it.

"We shouldn't do this." You said in a soft moan as you threw your head back, giving Eren the chance to kiss down your neck.

"We shouldn't." He sighed into your neck.

"It's a bad idea." Your grinding intensified and his hand came to grab at your hips to help you, a sigh of pleasure escaping you, your nails digging into his shoulder.

"It is." You could feel his breath on your neck.

"I loathe you."

"The feelings mutual."

The air crackled as your eyes locked with Eren's. You guys locked eyes for a moment, as written in the script.

And then you leaned down as you were slightly lifted above the ground with a surge of undeniable desire. Your lips met in a frantic kiss, a tangle of emotions that both fueled and fought against your self-control. The kiss was so rushed, such a blur. Both your heads moving so frantically to fight for dominance.

It was like you were fighting to crawl into each others skin.

A strangled sound escaped your throat, a mix of surprise and something more primal. A flicker of uncertainty crossed your mind. Fuck, why were you enjoying this?

Shame threatened to choke the rising tide of sensation, but Eren's touch, a hand gently yanking at your hair, grounded you. In that moment, you were caught in a delicious storm of confusion and exhilaration.

"Cut!"

You tore yourself away from the kiss, gasping for breath. Eren mirrored your action, his chest heaving slightly. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. Both of you gazed at each other with longing and confusion, almost disgust and hate for themselves because deep down they know they liked it.

''Great job! I love the intensity. We'll just need to film some POV and closeup shots for the sex scenes and we're done for the day." The director smiled, praising both of you. "Let's take 5."

You started to walk away, but before you could leave, Eren grabbed your hand. "Also, by the way." You sighed and rolled your eyes.

"What?"

"I could feel that, you know."

Shit.

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sunburnhurts · 3 months

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Blind Date || Cedric Diggory x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n's best friend, Angelina Johnson, wants Y/n to start dating. Angelina decides to set Y/n up with one of Fred Weasley's friends, Cedric Diggory. Angelina and Fred decide to go on a double date with the 2, but its more of a blind date.

Words: 1,470

All My Stories

"Can't you just tell me who it is!?" Y/n questions her best friend, Angelina Johnson.

"No, it's called a blind date for a reason!" Angelina responds as she hands Y/n an eyelash curler. The 2 friends were getting ready for their double date, Angelina with Fred Weasley, and Y/n with an unknown boy.

"So he goes to our school," Y/n says as looks in the mirror and curls her lashes, "can you tell me what house he's in?"

"No! You already know too much!"

"No! I promise I know nothing!" Y/n wines, trying to get her way. "This is making me too stressed out!"

"Don't worry! Me and Fred wouldn't set you up with a murderer!"

"It better not be someone like- Draco Malfoy! He's too young and too weird!"

"Ew! Of course not! Way too young!" Angelina laughs, watching Y/n through the reflection of the mirror.

"So he's in our year?" Y/n says as she picks up mascara and leans into the mirror to get a good view of her lashes.

Watching Y/n apply the masacra, Angelina says sarcastically, "No, it's some first year Fred is best friends with."

Y/n pauses, looking at her friend in the mirror with a serious face. "Say you're joking. I'm not ready to be arrested."

"Of course I'm kidding! Yes, he's in our year."

"It better not be George, I'm not into red heads."

"I mean I am buttt, no it's not George. I'm not telling you anything else. You just have to trust me, you'll like him."

"But will he like me though?"

"Y/n! Of course he will love you! Stop over thinking this! I wouldn't put you in a bad situation!" Angelina promises, "And how could he not like you, look at you! You look stunning!"

"As always." Y/n playfully rolls her eyes, putting the mascara down.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cedric and Fred were walking to the Three Broomsticks, talking about the upcoming date. "I hate not knowing who this girl is." Cedric says, feeling the nerves growing.

"Don't worry, I know you'll like her." Fred says, trying to calm his friend down.

"You said she's a Gryffindor?"

"Yeah, one of Angelina's friends." Hearing this made Cedric assume it was Y/n Y/l/n. If you were to have asked anyone in their year who Angelina's best friends was, Y/n would be the first to come to mind. Cedric didn't want to get his hopes up that it was Y/n, but he was looking forward to getting to know the girl more. Cedric has always found Y/n attractive, but he never got the chance to befriend her.

On the first day of first year, Y/n was the first person Cedric talked to. He was nervous, waiting in the line to know what house he was going to be placed in. Y/n was behind him, listening to the boy anxiously mumble to himself. "You'll be fine, trust me." Young Y/n says, putting her hand on the boys shoulder.

Cedric turned around, relaxing when he saw Y/n's face. They both smiled at each other, exchanging names. Once Cedric got sorted into Hufflepuff, he prayed Y/n would be sorted there too. When she was sorted into Gryffindor, they both looked at each other with sad smiles. When the school year started, they would smile at each other when they saw one another in the halls, but as the year went on, they slowly stopped.

As the years went on, they would always make eye contact in the halls, but it always lasted a second. When they both saw each other, it reminded them of the first day of first year. They both wondered what their lives would have been if they continued being friends, wishing they had.

Now, Cedric and Fred were about to enter the Three Broomsticks. Y/n and Angelina were sitting across from each other, Y/n facing the door. Every time Y/n heard the door open, her eyes shot to the door. Noticing her best friends nervous behavior, Angelina put her hand on Y/n's, making Y/n relax.

Hearing the door open once more, Y/n turns her attention to it. She sees Cedric enter the door. It's probably not him, I don't see Fred. Y/n thinks. She watches as Cedric turns around to someone who is also entering into the pub. She sees Cedric and Fred looking around the pub to spot the 2 girls.

"Angelina. You seriously got me a date with Cedric Diggory?!" Y/n whisper shouts, burying her face in her hands laughing.

"Girl, I know you want him! Every time you see him in the halls you get quiet for a few seconds. Now don't mess this up!" Angelina says, pulling at Y/n's arms so she would unbury her face. When Y/n looked up, she saw Fred spot her and point over to her. Cedric turned around to look at what Fred was pointing at, making eye contact with Y/n. He smiled at the girl, making Y/n naturally smile back.

Y/n looked back at her friend, who was smiling at Y/n. "Don't look at me, I'm already nervous enough!" Y/n whispers, keeping a smile on her face so it looked natural. Angelina laughs at the girl, making Y/n laugh back.

When the 2 boys arrived at the table, Fred sat next to his girlfriend, planting a kiss on her lips. Cedric sits next to Y/n, smiling once more at the girl as he greets her. "Hi, Y/n."

"Hey, Cedric." Y/n smiles back.

"You 2 already know each other?" Fred asks.

"Yeah." They both answer.

"We were friends in first year," Y/n explains to the couple.

"You remember that?" Cedric asks, turning his head to the girl.

"Of course I remember, you were the first person I talked to." Cedric nods his head, grinning at Y/n.

"We are such grate matchmakers." Fred says, looking at Angelina.

"Excuse you, this was all my idea, who's 'we'?" Angelina sassily asks, making everyone laugh.

As the date went on, Y/n and Cedric hit it off. They bonded over talking about school and all of their favorite things. When the double date was over, the 2 couples decided to walk apart to give each other alone time. Angelina and Fred walked behind Cedric and Y/n, watching their matchmaking work out.

"So you didn't know who you were going on a date with either?" Y/n asks with her arm wrapped around Cedric's.

"Fred is bad at giving hints. He gave me 2 and I guessed it was you right away." Cedric laughs, making Y/n chuckle.

"Were you disappointed?" Y/n asks in a joking way, but it was a serious question.

"No, not at all." Cedric looks down at Y/n, giving her a genuine smile.

"Good." There was a few moments of silence before Y/n admits, "I thought it was going to be awkward, or something. I mean we haven't talked since we were 11."

"Honestly, I was worried too."

"Good thing we were with Fred, he made a fool of himself before I did." Y/n says, laughing. Cedric laughs, thinking back to the moment that happened during the double date. Y/n made a joke about everyone's least favorite teacher, and Fred snorted his butter beer out of his nose.

"How much do you bet they are watching us?" Y/n says, referring to the couple behind them.

"I don't need to bet, I feel them looking." Cedric chuckles. Y/n and Cedric both turn their head around to look at the pair. No supersize, Fred and Angelina whip their head to look somewhere other then Y/n and Cedric. Y/n and Cedric both look at each other, busting out in laughter.

After more conversations about both of their lives, Cedric and Y/n arrived at the fat lady painting, which indicated their date officially ended here. "I had a lot of fun reconnecting with you again, Y/n. We should do this again." Cedric says, tucking a piece of hair behind Y/n's ear.

"Yeah, definitely." Y/n beams up at the boy. Cedric nods to Y/n, then walks away, past Angelina and Fred. He nods at the couple and walks back to the Hufflepuff common room.

Angelina runs up to Y/n, whisper shrieking in excitement. In response, Y/n does the same, holding Angelina's hands. "I did that!!" Angelina beams.

After that night, Cedric and Y/n would walk in the halls together, hand in hand. They went on many more dates together, growing closer and closer, eventually becoming boyfriend and girlfriend, thanks to Angelina.

THE END

A/n: Thank you so much for reading!! Hope yall loved this! PLS REQUEST! I'm pulling stories out of my ass here 😊 I don't really like this story so I hope it wasn't too bad...

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cyborg-franky · 6 months

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hi can i ask for izou hcs with s/o that sucks at makeup😞 like, him almost fighting with helping them put it on and stuff

Yess <3

Izou x GN Reader SFW

You didn’t wear makeup very often around the ship. You were too busy focusing on your duties and, to be honest, the way you would sweat from a hard day's work. It just wasn’t worth the effort for it to run or get ruined by the ever-changing moods of the weather.

However, the times you did, your boyfriend would often have something to say.

Izou would narrow his eyes, purse his lips, and tsk at you. Now, your makeup was never bad. It just wasn’t up to Izou’s level of perfection.

“You should let me teach you some makeup tricks,” He said one day as he brushed back your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear as he admired your face.

You melted into his touches, feeling his thumbs gently brush along your cheeks. Then you huffed as he held your face firmly, turning your head from side to side and scrutinizing the job you'd done on your blush and eyeliner.

“Is that an offer or a threat?” you asked with a chuckle, and from the look on his face, you knew it was the latter.

Soon, you were in his room, sitting on a chair and staring at your reflection as he tsked, tutted, and mumbled to himself as he dug into the depths of his collection. Occasionally, he held up colours against your skin, judging what he thought would suit you and where he wanted to go with it.

“Well,” Izou began as he met your eye in the mirror. “I think this will look great on you,” he shook the bottle and smiled.

You felt like a cat being bathed against your will for the next half an hour. He was fast and strong, and as you swotted at him, he dodged and ducked. “My love, you just smudged everything I worked on, and we need to do it again,” Izou sighed as he adjusted you in the chair again and applied the eyeliner. You whined as you tried to sit perfectly still. He was amazing at what he did, and you knew you were being fussy, but couldn’t he just show you what to do on himself?

He was firm but gentle, not wanting to hurt you; he was just going into full-blown Izou knows best mode.

“I love how thick your lashes look with that mascara, but we need a little more,” he said with a hum, tapping his cheek as he mused over his options before pulling something out of his drawer: eyelash curlers, something you’d never used.

“Okay, I think I hear someone calling me,” you sprung out of your seat just to be pulled back by your shoulder, seeing the devious grin on Izou’s face. “Oh darling, we aren’t finished yet,” he said, gently kissing the side of your head. “I promise it won’t hurt,” his voice softened before as he gave you a comforting smile.

“Alright then… I’ll allow it.” Izou’s smile grew, happy you were letting him have his way.

#one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #one piece x you #sfw #gender neutral reader #izou x reader #izo x reader #izo op #izou op #izou x you #izo x you #izou x yourname #izo x yourname #izou x yn #izo x yn #one piece x yn #one piece x yourname #one piece imagine

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prettieinpink · 1 year

Text

GROWING OUT + STYLING YOUR LASHES

Minimise the use of mascara + if you do use it anyway, ensure that most of the residue is washed off with micellar water before you go to sleep

Avoid lash adhesives, falsies, eyelash curlers etc for the time being.

Using a clean spoolie, brush through your lashes everyday, this helps stimulate them which promotes growth.

Apply oil to your lashes daily- coconut, castor, olive etc etc. use a cotton swab for a clean application.

Consider taking biotin, collagen, or vitamin E as supplements for lash growth (consult with your doctor first!)

Avoid touching/rubbing your eyes, as this can pull out some of your lashes.

Use tweezers carefully to style your lashes each morning

To naturally curl your lashes, I just use a small spoolie and warm Vaseline, and leave it for around 1-2 minutes.

Apply some Vaseline there and there because it helps with locking in moisture but don’t apply anything to the roots as it will block the hair follicles for growth

GROWING OUT + STYLING YOUR EYEBROWS

Same things here- wash your face and ensure no make up residue is in your eyebrows + apply oils daily.

Avoid plucking your eyebrows for 12~ weeks. This gives them time to properly grow and actually highlight stray hairs.

Try to wear sunglasses that cover your eyebrows, as excessive UV exposure to your eyebrows can harm the proteins there, which cause them to be brittle and thinner.

Once again apply small amounts of Vaseline but the former still applies.

Exfoliate your eyebrows around 3x a week as it stimulates the follicles which promotes growth

Use eyebrow gel for them to stay put throughout the day, but a good quality one as some can leave white residue.

Fill them in if they’re sparse, but still be diligent. Overfilled eyebrows<<<

Know if an arch, soft arch, or straight eyebrows suit you the best, dear peachie has a good video on this.

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messyvanity92 · 8 months

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Law and reader doing his makeup

Some little head canons about him doing his makeup :

He does his eyeliner with a kohl eye pencil

Really good on applying it to his waterline

smears it a bit

Gets annoyed with his holy grail eye pencil is out of stock

y/n doing his makeup:

it was probably a lazy day on the polar tang

You kinda just asked and he said maybe …

He would probably ask for something natural

would get embarrassed if you did some more than natural

starts blushing as you start applying primer

During some Steps like color correcting, contour and highlighting, brow gel, he asks “is this necessary?”

he would have an idea of the products since he has seen you use it

if you two have a similar skin tone and you have a good amount of foundations and concealers, he’ll try to color match

the room feels tense from him deeply thinking about it lol

Else, you can brush on him a transparent loose powder, blush , bronzer and call it a day

for eyeshadows, i feel he would want something cool and neutral, like the urban decay naked 2 mini (more like the last three colors)

As much as he loves and trust you, he rather curl his own lashes and do his own mascara and eyeliner

He is trying his best with the eyelash curler

To finish off the look, a clear lip balm

Looks at himself in the mirror and says “not bad”

The look last like a good 5 mins before he wants to take it off

If you did a full face, please give him a oil cleanser or a makeup remover balm before he scrubs his face off

takes a nap after

#trafalgar law x reader #x reader

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bouncybongfairy · 1 year

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Wild Night

Summary: You are convinced by your best friend Stacey into having a wild night at the club where you met Rick Sanchez.

TW: Drug Use | Smut | Alcohol | Rough Sex.

Rick Sanchez x Reader

Word Count: 3k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You rummage through your purse, trying to find your lanyard to unlock the door. After what seems like an eternity, you finally get the door open. You set your bag on the island in the kitchen and check your phone. Today was your Friday, and you were looking forward to your three-day weekend from work. With school, work, and your social life, you only want to sleep when you get free time. This was something your inner circle was noticing and pointing out more often. Your phone rings with the collar ID of Stacy. You met her in statistics class and really hit it off.

“Hey girl,” you say into the phone while walking into your bathroom to take off your jewelry.

“Y\N! What are you doing tonight? Novah and I planned on going to The Wormhole tonight and we really want you to come.” She said into the phone, the faint sound coming from the background.

“I don’t know Stacey, I have a ton of homework and I worked today,” you say, taking your earrings off and your claw clip.

“Please, just come out. You told me yesterday that you have a three-day weekend.” She remarked while Marina played quietly over the speaker.

“What does that have to do with anything? My free time isn’t your availability.” You said leaving the bathroom and going to sit on your bed. Stacey sighed and switched her tone before speaking,

“Look, I really miss you. I know you’re working and have a life and I admire how dedicated you are. It just can’t be healthy to be going so non stop. Please just come out with Novah and me, have one or two drinks and if you really are not feeling up to it we can Uber you home. I’ll come over and we can get ready together.. please..?” Stacey at this point was begging.

“Be here in like, an hour okay?” You say while turning the shower water on the heat up.

“Yay! I’ll be there soon girl, I promise you won’t regret this.” Stacey sang into the phone before hanging up. Once you thought more about it, you began romanticizing the idea of going to the club. Getting all done up, breaking out the lashes, extension, heels, mini skirt.

The last time you went out with Stacey you damn near blacked out. Dancing with the strippers on the pole, body shots, the looks you got when you started grinding against Stacey. Once the water was warm, you stepped into the shower and started washing your body. The Wormhole is the sickest club you've ever been to. The bouncers do a great job of keeping creeps out. Some of the bottle girls sell molly and they have strippers.

"What did I get myself into tonight?" you mutter to yourself and you rinse the shampoo out of your hair.

Once Stacey got there, they began doing their makeup in front of the mirror built on your closet door. You were clipping your extensions into your hair while she was applying power to set her foundation.

"So.. are you planning on getting laid tonight?" Stacey asked, shifting through her make-up bag. You chuckle while grabbing your curler and wrapping your hair around it,

"Honestly yeah, I haven't gotten dick in like, three months." You said finishing up your hair, teasing it a bit to give it some volume.

"Oh my gosh, are you serious? Yeah, it's a good thing that I convinced you to come out tonight because that's some grandma shit right there," she said, spraying setting spray on her face.

"I don't know, I'm just tired of the ending. It's like the buildup is great. We're all taking shots and smoking, dancing the night away. The end of the night begins to approach and you start looking for the guy you're gonna take home. The sexual tension is like so electric when you're dancing with said dude or on the car ride home. You get in bed, he'll dig into your hip for a while and then when you do start having sex, they last like 45 mins then collapses after they finish. Then sit there in award silence for 10 minutes before getting dressed and mumbling: mY uBeR iS hErE and run out the door. It's just too much." You said while fixing your eyelashes and grabbing a couple bobby pins to secure your bangs to the side, "do my eyelashes look even?" You ask Stacey who had just finished lighting a blunt, handing it to you so she could answer your question.

"Yes, they look even and yeah I get that. It's hard to find guys our age that can play that mind game. Like, the cat and mouse game. You know, like flirting and teasing but I would settle for a guy who could find the clit without help!" She said, bursting into laughter. "That is setting the bar low, even for you." You joke back while exhaling your hit before turning back to finish getting ready.

After about another 30 minutes you both were leaving your apartment to get down to The Wormhole. Novah was going to meet you both there and you were really excited. After pre-gaming with the blunt Stacey had rolled, you were feeling so optimistic about the night. Especially compared to how you felt before the invite. You're wearing a jean mini-skirt that pretty much looks like a tube top. Pink, chunky pumps, and a white long-sleeve crop top that left your mid-section bare. Your platinum blonde hair blown out Farrah Fawcett style resting on your shoulders and back. Of course, the Juicy bag that you stole from your sister in high school. It really wouldn't be a complete outfit without it. Once you guys walk into the club you immediately find Novah, who saved a table for you guys.

"You know Y|N, when Stacey texted me that you were going to meet us here I can't say that I believed her but I'm so stoked you came out!" She said playfully pushing you on the shoulder. You laugh and nod your head, "Yeah it's been all work no play but I'm here tonight and I'm trying to get fucked up." You giggle which makes both girls laugh. "Let's drink to that whore," Stacey says, walking away to order a bottle.

It was somewhere between the fifth shot of GreyGoose and the second joint you smoked in the bathroom that you became more open-minded. Stacey was behind you, grinding her pelvis against your ass. Novah was dancing in front of you holding their mixed drink in the air. You were really starting to feel drunk at this point, especially when you started wanting a cigarette.

"Our bottle girl has molly, are you down?" Stacey whispers in your ear you immediately turn around and flash her a devilish grin which causes both of you to break out into laughter. You guys track down the bottle girl and buy 60 dollars worth of molly.

That was when you first noticed him, it honestly was a bit embarrassing. You had dipped the acrylic nail on your pinky into the small baggie of powder and brought it up to your nose. Right as you snorted the molly is when you locked eyes with him. His hair was so blue, like seriously blue. He had on a lab coat which at first struck you as weird but it really goes with his whole vibe. One of the first things you notice is that he's alone or at least you were hoping he was. Without breaking eye contact with you, he grabs his glass and takes a couple of swigs.

"Hello, Y|N are you good?" Stacey asks while stroking your hair. "Um, yeah but, do you see that guy over there who -hiccup- who is that?" You ask, referring over to the blue-haired man.

"Oh, that's Rick Sanchez or Smith or something like that, uhh, I think I went to high school with his granddaughter. He's a drunk but also like a crazy scientist who has this weird-ass car airplane hybrid vehicle thing. I don't know tho." Stacy slightly slurred while still dancing to the music that was blaring, "Are you thinking about getting at him?" She asks you while pulling you in to start dancing again.

"Well yeah, I mean like I said I'm tired of clueless men so maybe I should go after an older man, try something new." You said but you couldn't help but giggle the entire time while you said it.

'God this molly is so strong you thought to yourself.

"I support Y|N on their journey to getting space man dick," Novah said, grabbing Stacey as showed you away in an encouraging way to go interact with him. Under different circumstances, it might have taken you more of a pep talk to be so direct but with the liquid and powder courage took away any anxiety. You had to admit it was a bit nerve-racking when you first approached Rick. Most people change their facial expressions and body language to acknowledge the fact that you are approaching them. He just stared at you with the same facial expression from when you first locked eyes. Once you were standing directly in front of him you smiled and greeted him.

"Hey, your name is Rick right?" You asked, fixing your purse strap. "Are you trying to make small talk?" Rick asked sarcastically.

"Sure looks like it doesn't it." You snap back quickly, grabbing his glass and taking a sip out of the black straw. You quickly realize what you thought was a glass of water was indeed pure vodka. You bite down on the straw to keep your face from grimacing.

"What's your name?" Rick snickered, taking the glass back and taking three large gulps.

"Y|N, my friends said that you're a spaceman. Are you?" You ask, becoming impatient on trying to find a good opportunity to ask him to dance.

"How does that concern you or your little girlfriends?" He asked leaning so she could hear him over the speakers.

"Oh, that doesn't really concern me, you know what really does worry me? The fact that you aren't grinding against me on the dance floor. Don't you find that concerning?" You ask sarcastically, grabbing his belt loops and using them to pull yourself closer to him. This causes him to stand up from the bar stool he was sitting on. That was when you realized how tall he was, he was literally towering over you. Your neck was bent completely back to look up at him whereas his head was hanging down to see you.

"I'm not going to be your parent for the night, I don't want to deal with daddy issues." He said which made you throw your head back and laugh. You felt his hand on your back catch you in case you lost balance.

You grab the bag of molly out of your cleavage and scoop a fair amount of powder onto your nail. You bring it up to his nose and whisper in his ear as he snorts it, "I don't need a daddy, I need a dick that lasts longer than an hour and doesn't need GPS to get to its destination." You giggled as he pulled you in closer, almost causing your feet to lift off the ground.

"I think we're gonna make a great pair." He said as he led you to the dance floor. You had been standing with Rick for so long that when you began making your way to the floor, you really began to feel inebriated.

The energy you felt between the two of you on the dance floor was unreal. To be fair, being intoxicated could be clouding your proper judgment but feeling Rick behind you was making your legs feel like it was burning. Such a warm feeling in the bottom of your stomach. As you were grinding against him you couldn't help but try to size him up.

"Your dick feels so fucking big." You said after turning around to face Rick. He was smirking at you, his body slightly hovering over you so he could squeeze your ass. Which is when a bottle girl walked passed and asked what time she would be meeting Rick after the club closes.

"Back the fuck up." You sneer, shoving her back causing a couple of the drinks on her tray to spill on a couple of people around you. Immediately the bouncers come to remove you but Rick grabs you by your waist so that your back is pressed against his chest.

"I got it, alright buddy calm down j-just calm down I'm taking- I'll take her." He said while you were trying to get out of his grip. Your feet were dangling and you eventually got your hand loose and immediately slid your hand down his happy trail as he walked you over to his ship which was parked out back instead of in front of the club. Once you get close enough to the ship he turns you around and slams you against the ship door. He pressed his body against yours making you pinned in between him and the metal.

"You're fucking mental. I'm not one of these frat boys who can't look past you. If I want to hook up with her or whoever the fuck I choose. Control yourself," Rick growled into your ear, moving one of his hands to grip your throat. You pull your legs up and wrap them around his waist and smile at him.

"Mental for your dick." You mumble against his lips which were chattering slightly due to the molly.

"Fuck it," Rick said pulling out his portal gun and creating the bright green gateway. It opens from behind you, Rick's face becomes illuminated by the green light.

god he looks so powerful

You both fall through the portal onto a bed. It took you a while to notice but the bed you were both on was your own. You run your hands down his back, digging your nails into his lower half. He groans as he grinds against you. You bring your feet up and try to push his pants off of him. He chuckles as he pulls away from you and sits up on his knees. As he began undoing his belt you couldn't help but admire his body. The T.V. was glowing behind him creating a halo of light behind him. He pulled a condom out of his lab coat. You sit up so that you are on your knees as well.

"Can I put it on you?" You asked, scooting closer to him and reaching for it. He looks down at you and smiles and hands it over. He pulled his pants down and you were pretty impressed. You rip open the condom with your teeth and slowly start rolling it on.

"I knew it was big," You say as you start stroking his dick. "I don't think anyone would disagree with you on that." He said crawling back on top of you. You pull your thong down but leave your skirt on. He trails his hand up your thigh and uses his thumb to rub your clit.

"Fuck you're already so fucking wet," He moaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder. You caress the back of his head with one hand and with the other, you reach down and line up his dick to your entrance.

He starts kissing your chest as he slowly slides into you. Rick is bigger than average so it was a bit uncomfortable. It really turned you on that you didn't have to ask him to take it slow at first. He puts his elbows by your ears and slowly starts to speed up. You run your fingers through his hair and arch your back.

"Fuck yeah feels so good to have you wrapped around me." He moaned out while picking up speed. You start bucking your hips up to meet his thrust. You bite down on his neck and let out a loud groan.

He flips you over so that you are on top. You move your hair out of your face and start rocking your hips back and forth. He threw his head back and bucked up into you which encouraged you to go faster. You could feel your heart rate speed up as you rode him. You become more winded and put your hands by his head to support some of your weight. Rick uses this to his advantage and bites down on your nipple. Beads of sweat were starting to form on your forehead, the only thing you could think about was building up to your climax.

You throw yourself back and rest your hands on your knees and start moving your hips in a circular motion. He sits up with you and looks up at you while you ride him. He runs his hands down your back and grabs your ass all while making eye contact. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was slightly agape. His pupils were so wide that his eyes looked black.

"Mmhm, can you feel me tighten around your cock?" You ask, picking up your pace.

"Fuck I can't take it," You hear Rick mumble to himself as he flips you both around for the second time. This time you were on your stomach, he quickly inserted himself back into you. You let out a loud cry, not expecting the intense amount of pleasure so quickly. He shoves his hand underneath you and starts playing with your clit as he pounds into you. "Holy fuck I'm about to cum!" You scream out, and he bites onto the back of your shoulder. You both cum at the same time, Rick doesn't stop biting your shoulder until after he is finished. He quickly pulled out and tied off the condom, tossing it in the trashcan next to the bed. He collapses on top of you and soon after you both drift off to sleep.

Hello! This is the first fan fiction that I’ve ever published. Looking forward to writing more. Was thinking of making this a slow-burn fanfic but want to get public opinion before doing so.

#rick sanchez #rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez smut #rick c137 #fanfiction #fanfic writing #slow burn

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maladaptive-day-dreams · 2 years

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No thoughts just imagining doing Eddie’s eye makeup for the first time:

He was curious about it for a while, always watching you put yours on through the mirror while he was sitting on your bed. So one day you’re putting finishing touches on and Eddie comes up behind you and puts his head on your shoulder saying, “do you think I’d look as pretty as you do with eye stuff on?” With a smirk on his lips. You smile and saw “yes and it’d be very metal to do it for one of your shows.”

So here you are, Eddie in your vanity chair and you standing in front of him putting eyeliner and mascara on him (or attempting to). He’s already tried to run away once when you pulled out the eye liner pencil. “YOU’RE GONNA POKE MY EYE OUT,” Eddie half yells, slinking as far back into the chair as he could when you finish sharpening the black pencil. He leans back so far he almost tips the chair over, but you catch it just in time and straddle Eddie’s lap to get him to sit still for you. His hands automatically go to your hips and he smiles up at you and tries his best to not squint as you start to draw on his lash line. “Oh that wasn’t that bad,” he sighs after you swap the pencil for a smudge brush to make the liner look smokey and “more metal” as Eddie requested.

But then you get up, rummaging around on your vanity and turning back around with an eyelash curler. Eddie’s eyes blow wide. “You are not getting anywhere near me with that,” he says, hand outstretched, palm open as if that would will you away from him. “That thing looks like a torture device!” You laugh, but then Eddie jumps from the chair and tries to run away from you and the eyelash curler. He rushes from the room and you follow him only to stop in the dining room where he uses the dining room table as a barrier between the two of you.

"Eddie, it's only an eyelash curler! You won't look metal with mascara if your eyelashes are still straight, it literally takes like two seconds," you say in an attempt to persuade him. He violently shakes his head no and you play chicken as to who is gonna run around what side of the table first. You try to sprint to Eddie's side but then he runs along the opposite side and ends up where you just were. Then he stickes his tongue out at you and you huff. Making it look as if you've given up you walk into the living room that's now behind you and slide onto the couch. Eddie tentatively follows you and when he sees the eyelash curler on the coffee table he moves to sit beside you on the couch. But, before he can, you stand up abruptly and push Eddie into a lying position on the couch his arms land on his stomach and you lay directly on top of him, eyelash curler back in hand. Eddie whines from under you and tries to squirm away as you bring the curler up towards his eyes. "Stop moving or it will become a torture device and I'll accidentally rip your eyelashes out," you laugh. Eddie huffs and gives up, trying his best not to move as you curl his lashes.

His eyes are still closed when you get off of him and he opens them as he says "oh that wasn't that bad." He's met with a sigh and "come on" as you trudge back to your room, Eddie following behind. "Just mascara left, and I swear to god if you try and run away again you don't get any kisses tonight." Eddie gasps like you've just killed his firstborn son but makes sure he's as still as a statue while you paint his lashes, making sure to pucker his lips in waiting once you finish with the mascara.

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #fluff fic #st fanfic #st4 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #stranger things fandom #stranger things s4 #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fluff

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themaethpost · 1 month

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Now Presenting: Minerva Migloire, the healer.

Introduction.

Full name: Minerva Aelin Magloire.

Pronouns: She/Her.

Birthday: 13th February.

Sexual orientation: Heterosexual.

Pet: Tackery, the ferret.

Personality.

Birth chart (big three): Aquarius sun, Piscis moon, Capricorn rising.

MBTI: INFJ-T.

Patron Arcana: The Moon.

Upright: Intuition, illusions, crisis of faith.

Reversed: Ignored trauma, going back to one’s old ways, difficult emotions.

Minor Arcana: Eight of Cups.

Upright: Departure, change, and emotional intelligence.

Reversed: Being abandoned, errors of judgement, clinging to the past.

Likes: Art nouveau architecture, vitraux, tiny jars for herbs and spices, having a specific order and place for things, white mushrooms growing from in between cobblestones all over Maeth, the way her curls look when she just wakes up, cutting her own hair, soft breeze in the summer, crunchy autumn leaves at her door, that magical shimmer water reflects due to the sun being right above it midday, sweet treats, dim lighting, walnut oak furniture, being a big sister, when Tack rests on her shoulders like a scarf, folk music at the tavern, cherry blush all over her cheeks, when Soleil asked for bedtime stories, doing laundry and sunday deep cleaning, cooking and storing food for the rest of the week, the way Esbat Capital lights up at night, surprising chemical reactions, riding the train, reading romance books.

Dislikes: Brushing her hair because it destroys her curls, rude costumers that doubt her knowledge and expertise, loud people, when the herbs she ordered are delayed so now she has to rush to make the new batches of oil and ointments, long trips on boats, losing her bookmarks, falling asleep on her couch and not her bed, when the shower water runs cold, not being able to find Tack easily.

Abilities: She’s not great at maths but she really does like the accounting aspect of the shop she runs so she’s great at it. Minerva learned how to play the guitar early on in her life so now she’s a decent player. She’s quick to remember recipes for both food and medicine. Can ride a bike without holding the handlebars and that’s her prefered way of moving around the big city, divination.

Favourite food: Cinnamon rolls.

Favourite drink: A latte, please. Or two. Or three… And it’s only 2 PM.

Favourite flower: Ghost flowers.

Magic: She wasn’t born into a family of witches, so she doesn’t have any nature’s element weilding powers but she is interested in witchcraft, so she studies in her free time about it. So far, the only thing she’s confident in is divination with tarot cards and participates in the pagan festivities but nothing else.

Appearance.

Height: 5’4 or 165 cm.

Weight: 119 lbs or 54 kg.

Hair: She’s got this chocolate brown, curly hair which ends go barely past covering her breasts and she can’t tame it most of the time, partially due to the fact that she washes it and goes to sleep without letting it dry properly first. Not that she cares, she likes the messy look her curls and frizz offer so she just lets it be. Though, you might run into her at Açu’s for some deep conditioner every month trying to force those curls to stay in place.

Eyes: Her eyes are brown, simple as that. It’s a deep, sparkly dark brown. Down turned almond shape that look so sleepy most of the time, you’d think she’s bored talking to you and she might be, but it’s not her intention to let you know that. Long lashes adoring her nostalgic stare only enhanced by a eyelash curler in the morning and not much else. Maybe some sparkly eyeshadow in the corner of her eyes if she’s feeling it.

General description: Overall, Minerva is not someone who stands out a lot. Even so, her beauty is something that might caught the eyes of one or two people while walking to work in the mornings. She’s not someone who wears a lot of jewelry but since her eyesight isn’t the best, she’s always wearing contacts or glasses and that’s something she really likes to play with, so you might see her with peculiar frames at the shop. She’s got veiny hands and most of the time you’ll see her wearing some kind of shimmery nail polish that chips way too easily. Minerva has a few beauty marks all over her body, she likes the one she’s got on her neck near her left ear a lot. Also, yes, that overwhelming scent you’re catching is her walking by. Her perfumes are very intense and sweet.

Fashion sense: She’s not the most confident person on the planet and tries to hide her figure a lot behind oversized shirts, sweaters and cardigans, though she’s trying to be more versatile. Trousers and comfortable shoes are her best friends but since she’s okay with her lower part, she’s not opposed to skirts (long or short). She likes clean lines, basic pieces that she can mix and match. Also, boots are her soft spot.

A brief look into her life.

Occupation: Minerva is an apothecary, just like her grandma used to be. When her and Soleil moved in with their father to Maeth from Embry, he decided to move in to his old home with his mother that passed away a few months before. This place is like a small building where the first floor is a shop, the apothecary shop where Minerva works and then, the second and third floor is where Soleil and their father live. Two years ago, Minerva moved just two blocks away from them to a small apartment with a gorgeous view, so she’s with her family most of the time.

Family and friends:

Federico Bianchi; step-father.

Reneé Berest; mother.

Simón Magloire; father.

Soleil Beallin Magloire; sister.

Natsu Dunaidh, best friend.

Benicio Melo Teixeira, best friend.

Amaru Ch’aska Noguera, friend and colleague.

Miscellaneous facts:

The love she has for the aphotecary profession comes from her grandma and all the books she left behind that she wrote about making remedies, herbology and holistic medicine.

She’s also incredibly interested in alchemy and psychology but had to study to be a pharmacist in university so she could continue with the aphotecary business and not have anyone doubting her medicine knowledge and recommend another options.

Even though you’ll mostly see her dressed with autumn colors, she’s also a sucker for cerulean, midnight blue, navy and cobalt. No, it’s not just blue.

Hums and talks to herself while working most of the time, since she’s the only one at the shop most of the time. Except for the times Soleil decides to keep her company for a while.

Loves conspiracy theories and is cryptic enthusiast.

Moths are fascinating to her.

Has a soft, breathy voice when she sings while playing the guitar.

#the maeth post #oc #minerva migloire #wonderful world of maeth

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theycallme-thejackal · 2 years

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One MidgeLenny x TSwift Fic Per Day

128. All Too Well

She remembers everything.

She wishes she didn’t. She wishes she could forget him, but that period of her life is ingrained in her mind, on her heart, and she finds herself having flashbacks more often than she cares to.

Tonight it’s as she stands in the kitchen, wiping her hands after cleaning up dinner, and she can picture him. She can feel the way his hands felt as he tugged her close and guided her steps, dancing in the kitchen to no music. She remembers how happy she was, how safe she felt in his arms, and it brings tears to her eyes.

In the end, it was too real for him, and he got scared, running off to California, putting an entire country between them, and leaving her feeling like a crumpled up piece of paper containing a bad joke you’d rather not remember you wrote in the first place.

She sees him in the living room, sitting in a chair, talking to Papa, and when he spots her in the doorway, he smiles and gives her a wink before going back to his chat. She sees him in the bathroom, bopping her on the nose with one of her curlers, nuzzling against her cheek and getting her face cream all over his nose.

In her bedroom, she opens her drawer, reaching toward the back and tugging out a familiar black silk tie. The smell of him has long since faded, but she keeps it here, in her drawer. It’s a little irrational maybe, but every time she considers throwing it out, she worries. She worries that throwing it out means throwing him away. Throwing everything that they had away.

And she’s not ready. It’s been six months, and she still can’t bear to move on.

They were only together - really together - for a short time, but she knows that she’s lost the greatest love she’s ever known. What he made her feel is unmatched by anyone she’s been with before or since then.

She wakes in the morning of her thirtieth birthday with his tie still in her hand, and she blinks awake slowly, the sun peeking through her window, and her heart clenches.

Thirty. And alone.

She’s always loved her birthday, but today is something of a blur, and once the kids are asleep, she feels a profound sadness wash over her.

And then a knock at the door.

She’s got a glass of bourbon in her hand (she tends to opt for bourbon on the nights when she particularly misses Lenny), and she downs it, steeling herself for what is undoubtedly going to be Joel and a fight on the other side of the door.

She takes a deep breath, opens the door, and...

It’s not Joel.

Instead, there stands Lenny Bruce, in his trademark suit, holding a small bakery box. His head is slightly dipped, and he looks at her a little shyly. “Happy birthday,” he says quietly.

“What are you doing here?” She asks when she finds her words.

He half-smiles. “There’s this bakery in West Hollywood that makes the best cupcakes I’ve ever had, but they sadly don’t deliver.”

She looks at him for a long moment before opening the door a little wider and inviting him inside. It’s probably a disastrous idea, letting him in when she’s already been maimed by their relationship before, but she can’t help herself. Wanting him, loving him, is as involuntary as blinking or cracking a joke.

He stands in her foyer for the first time in months, and as much as she just wants to fall into his arms right now, she feels more like a soldier bracing himself for battle, and he looks like he’s ready for a barrage.

It’s strange to see him feeling awkward when at one time this place was practically his home, but he shifts on his feet, looking up at her from under his lashes, and there is such a profound sensation of guilt radiating from him.

Good. He should feel guilty.

“When did you get back?” She asks as she closes the door.

He looks at his watch. “About an hour ago,” he answers. “I dropped my bag off at Jo-Jo’s and came straight here.”

She nods slowly. “How is he?”

“Away for the summer. I’ve got a spare key.” He lifts the box of cupcakes a little awkwardly. “Want a cupcake?” He asks. “Or I could just leave them and - ”

“No,” she breathes softly. “No, I...it’s my birthday. And even though I’m still so fucking angry with you, I...can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend it with.”

He chuckles quietly. “That’s perhaps the most confusing thing I’ve ever heard, but I will take what I can get,” he says.

She leads him to the kitchen, pulling out plates and napkins before pouring them each a glass of bourbon. He raises a brow at her. She shrugs, setting his glass down in front of him. “Don’t make it a thing.”

He nods slowly and lifts his glass in toast. “To you,” he says.

She smiles softly. “I’ll drink to that.” They clink their glasses and sip, and then he opens the box.

The cupcakes inside are various colors and flavors, and she picks the one with a caramel frosting, taking a bite and biting back a moan. “Holy shit.”

He chews his bite of his chocolate cupcake. “I told you.”

“That’s almost as good as sex,” she comments before she can think about it, and he laughs.

“Almost,” he repeats with a smirk.

“Don’t flirt with me. I’m still mad at you.”

“Hey, you’re the one bringing up sex,” he bats back, cocking a brow at her.

She sighs and wipes her fingers on her napkin. “So...you’re here,” she comments, taking a sip of her bourbon.

He nods. “I am no mirage.”

She tilts her head at him, considering him, and she notices he looks...really good. His cheeks aren’t so sunken. His eyes a little brighter - still dark and smoldering, but there’s more life behind them. “You look good,” she says.

“Don’t flirt with me. You’re still mad at me.”

“Lenny,” she drawls with an eye roll, and he lifts his hands in surrender. “I meant you look healthy.”

He nods. “I...” He takes a deep breath, and it’s stunning to her to see the great Lenny Bruce struggling for words. “I didn’t want to leave you,” he says. “I need you to know that it was the hardest thing I have ever done.”

Midge swallows thickly. “Then why did you do it?” She whispers.

“Because I couldn’t be the man you deserve,” he answers honestly. “Not when I was...”

“High?” She finishes after a long moment.

He nods. “I needed to get clean. And I needed to do it for myself. If I was there for you...” She tilts her head, trying to understand where he’s going with this. “Then my sobriety always would have been contingent on us, and when you inevitably realized I wasn’t worth it - ”

“What makes you think that would ever happen?” She asks, furrowing her brow.

He scoffs a mirthless laugh. “You’re Miriam Weissman. Upper West Side goddess. One day you were going to tire of slumming it with an addict with mountains of debt.”

“Wow,” she breathes, shaking her head and trying to fight tears. “You really think I’m that shallow?”

“No. But I think you deserve better than someone who’s spending more money on drugs than food. Who can be there for you in a way I really couldn’t.”

She blinks at him and then sips her drink. “Lenny, do you have any idea how much I loved you?” She asks quietly. “How much it fucking hurt when you bailed on me? I - ” She feels herself getting louder and remembers her children down the hall. “I got left high and dry by my husband of five years, and that didn’t hurt nearly as much as watching you walk out on me.”

He nods, and she sees his eyes red-rimmed and watery. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I was so...lost, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I’m...I’m very sorry, Midge.”

She blinks back tears and looks down at her plate, picking a bit of cupcake. “Why are you here?” She asks. “Why now?”

“Because even though I left, even though I did it for myself...I thought of you the whole time I was in rehab. Watching you on Gordon Ford...it was the highlight of my weeks.”

She swallows her bite of cupcake and looks at him, but she can’t keep the eye contact, so she averts her gaze again. “Lenny...”

“I’m not expecting anything,” he promises. “After what I did, I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again. But I had to let you know how sorry I am for what I did. At the very least so you knew...it was never about not loving you. Because I did...I do.”

Her eyes shoot up to find his again, and she sees the wetness under his eyes where tears have started to fall. “I...I don’t know what to say,” she admits.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures her. “Whatever you want from me, I will respect that. I owe you that much.”

She stares at him for a long moment. “I think...you should go,” she whispers, her throat constricting with the threat of tears.

He nods. “Then I’ll go,” he says, standing and straightening his jacket. “Happy birthday, Midge. I hope you get everything you wished for,” he says quietly.

She doesn’t watch him leave, but the second she hears the front door close, she’s up like a shot, sprinting after him. She loses her slippers in the hall, but she doesn’t care. She rushes barefoot to the door, and when she swings it open, he’s not there.

She goes to the stairwell, flinging the door open, and he’s just made it to the landing when he sees her. She rushes down the stairs and launches herself into his arms, surprising him, but he holds her tightly as she buries her face in his neck.

“Don’t go,” she whispers. “Don’t ever go.” A sob passes her lips, and he holds her tighter.

He nods. “Okay,” he whispers, and she feels tears on the collar of her dress.

“I swear, Lenny, if you ever leave me like that again, I’m sending Frank and Nicky after you and no one will ever find the body.”

He chuckles through his sob. “Never again.”

#midgelenny #midge x lenny #midgexlenny #tmmm fanfic #marvelous mrs. maisel fanfic #otp: more important than god #jackal fics #mltswift

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