#i want to never talk to people ever again and i want to talk to them every second of the day

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends?

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Worried about how his new relationship seems to be changing him, you talk to Azriel about your concerns. Things take a turn when he refuses to listen.

Warnings: some wine sipping, gossiping, angst, miscommunication, friend fighting, jealousy (but no one realizes), az being defensive and blind

Word Count: 5k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“It’s not that I don’t like her.”

The words tasted as false as they were, and you grimaced the moment they slipped out, already bracing for the look Mor would throw your way. True to form, she didn’t disappoint, her expression halfway between amusement and exasperation.

A defeated sigh escaped as you accepted the glass of wine she offered, watching as she filled her own nearly to the brim.

“You’re better than me, then,” she hummed, settling back onto the couch across from you. “Because I don’t like her.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t like many people nowadays.”

She shrugged, casual as ever, though a smirk tugged at her lips. “True. I’m not exactly lining up for any peace medals, am I?”

You chuckled softly, leaning back in your chair. “I just… have this odd feeling about her, you know?”

Mor tilted her head, letting out a noncommittal hum. “Oh, I know. She drags Az around on a leash.”

You were tempted to say something about the irony in her words—remind her, in a loving manner, that she might've been guilty of that once upon a time, too. But you decided against it. She wasn't wrong.

You swirled the wine in your glass, watching the dark liquid move in slow, mesmerizing circles. The feeling wasn’t new; it had been there since the first time you’d met her. Azriel’s new girlfriend Selene was perfectly fine—charming, even. But there was something else, something you couldn’t quite name. Like a faint hum in the background of a quiet room, just irritating enough to notice but not enough to prove anything was wrong.

“Why don’t you talk to him?”

You glanced up, finding Mor’s bright brown eyes sharp and focused on you, the lazy humor of a moment ago gone.

“I doubt he’ll listen,” you admitted, resting the bottom of your glass on your thigh. “He didn’t listen to you.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not.”

Mor raised a brow like she wanted to argue, but she only sighed in response. “He’s been so weird about his love life. Gwyn didn’t work out. Elain’s probably the happiest out of all of us. Maybe he’s treading lightly.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, though you weren’t convinced.

Azriel had changed in small, almost imperceptible ways since everything had settled—since everyone had paired off and fallen in love. Everyone except you. And him.

You were fine with your situation, content in the quiet steadiness of your life. Azriel wasn’t. You knew it. He knew it, though he’d never admit it. So much of his self-worth was tangled up in whether he believed himself worthy of love. And the absence of it—of a solid, undeniable love in his life, of a partner, of a potential bond—seemed to weigh on him. To him, it wasn’t just an empty space; it was a failure.

You’d almost go as far as to say he’d become desperate, living in the shadows and watching his brothers experience loves so profound they might as well have been plucked from stories meant to inspire poets and dreamers.

Mating bonds were rare. You reminded yourself of that often. Your family was just an anomaly, their luck skewed impossibly high. But logic wasn’t enough to soothe Azriel, and it certainly wouldn’t stop him from chasing it. He was obsessive. Stubborn.

Nothing you said or did could change his perspective.

Mor’s voice pulled you out of your head again. “Speak of the devil,” she sang out. “Hi, Elain.”

Your gaze snapped up to the doorway, finding Elain standing just beyond the archway. She looked like a spooked deer, frozen in place with that polite smile you’d come to recognize as her default around company she hadn’t fully warmed up to yet.

“We were just talking about Azriel’s unfortunate romantic history,” Mor said smoothly. You glanced at Elain for her reaction.

It had taken time for that particular history to fade. Maybe it was appropriate to joke about now, but you personally would’ve waited a few more years before bringing it up so flippantly. Mor, however, had little patience for such niceties.

Elain’s expression didn’t shift beyond a faint flicker in her eyes, and you realized how much her composure had improved over the years. Then again, it had been a while since she and Lucien had found each other for good—long enough for their bond to solidify and for them to leave for the Day Court after their mating ceremony.

A twinge of jealousy sparked in you before you brushed it aside.

“We’re just gossiping in general. Want to join us?” you asked, gesturing to the chair beside you. Plush and inviting, it mirrored the one you sat on. “Unless Lucien is waiting for you upstairs?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed crimson. 

“Lucien’s still with Feyre, catching up,” she said, stepping further into the room. “What are you drinking?”

Mor reached for the bottle on the table, plucking it up and turning it in her hand to read the label.

“Something good and expensive,” she replied, with a half-hearted air of indulgence, before tilting her head at Elain with a faint grin.

“It’s from Rhys’s rather gluttonous collection,” you said, sensing Elain’s hesitation. “It won’t be missed at all.”

She smiled at that. “I’d love some.”

“There are a lot of glasses in that cabinet,” you said, pointing to the wood door with ornate carvings. “Grab whichever one you’d like.”

Mor sat up straighter, scooting herself back into the pillows behind her. You hummed, impressed, at her ability to hold both her full wine glass and the bottle without so much as a wobble.

You hadn’t spent much time with Elain one-on-one. Emissary duties had kept you busy during the years the Archeron sisters had adjusted to their new lives. But you liked Elain, from what you’d seen. She had a kind heart. She also had a sharp humor that surfaced at the oddest moments, usually when she and Lucien were whispering in corners, conspiratorial before seamlessly rejoining whatever social event they were at like they’d never left.

Elain returned and sat down with her chosen glass—a delicate crystal piece that gleamed in the soft light. Mor went to fill it instantly. 

“Can I ask why you were discussing Azriel’s romantic life?” Elain asked. Her voice was smooth, certain. No hesitation.

It didn’t faze her anymore, you realized—being such a strange, pivotal turning point in Azriel’s past experiences. She’d made peace with it, the way immortality seemed to demand. Time softened the edges of even the messiest situations, turning them into stories you could recount with startling detachment. Almost humorous, really.

Because how else could you explain being casual about the fact that your best friend had almost allowed his pride—and arrogance—and, somehow simultaneously, his insecurity—to lead him into a blood duel over Elain’s affections? A blood duel.

But now, it was just… something to write off. A distant memory, softened by the years and Lucien’s easy confidence. Lucien was better than you. You would’ve held that grudge against Azriel for many more years—long enough to make it a point of pride. But then again, Lucien had won everything he wanted in the end. He had the girl, the bond, the certainty that whatever lingering rivalry Azriel might feel was entirely one-sided.

It wasn’t important enough for Lucien to waste any more energy on.

You exchanged a glance with Mor, who arched a brow, clearly just as amused by Elain’s openness.

“Y/n doesn’t like his new girlfriend,” Mor said.

Your mouth fell open. “You don’t either.”

“True,” Mor agreed easily. She looked to Elain. “We don’t like her.”

“For clarification,” you said firmly, “I never said I didn’t like her.”

Mor laughed, sipping her wine with an amused grin.

Your face fell flat. “What?”

“Nothing,” she replied breezily. “But if you get a bad feeling about someone, that’s usually dislike.”

You resisted the urge to scowl, already turning over the guilt in your mind. You didn’t want to be that person—the kind who dismissed another female off the bat. Maybe your gut was wrong this time. Maybe her smile had reached her eyes, and you’d been too preoccupied to notice. Maybe her tone hadn’t been as assessing as you remembered, and you were projecting. You wanted to like her. You wanted to be happy for Azriel.

But he didn’t seem happy. He seemed distracted. Busy. Not himself.

And not the kind of busy you’d seen before—the methodical, obsessive focus he funneled into work or training. This was different, scattered in a way you couldn’t quite pin down. It had made sense in the beginning, when things were new and exciting, but now it was starting to feel uncomfortable. He’d started missing things—small things at first, like sparring sessions or those late-night conversations you, Mor, and him would have when you couldn’t sleep. Then came the bigger things. He’d stopped being able to review external court updates with you, even when those meetings were critical for your diplomatic roles.

Azriel had always been the one you could count on. Out of everyone, you considered him your closest friend—even more than Mor, though you’d never admit it out loud. But now it seemed like every time you made plans, Selene needed him more.

And then there was how fast it was all moving. Too fast. At a recent family dinner, she’d casually mentioned that she and Azriel could move in together—offhand, like it was the most obvious next step. Something about leaving the townhouse behind, creating a space with décor that matched her aesthetic. Azriel had just stayed quiet, looked at her like she’d just proposed the most brilliant idea in existence.

You noticed he did that. The way he looked at her. The way he’d looked at Elain and Gwyn back when they were seeing each other. It weirded you out—that tendency to put the people he saw as romantic interests on a pedestal, as though they were flawless. As though they were something he didn’t deserve.

You knew where it came from. That deep-rooted insecurity that even centuries hadn’t managed to erase. He didn’t see it, the way he wore himself down trying to prove his worth to people who, for the most part, had already accepted him. But you saw it. You always had.

And it made it harder to like Selene. To trust her intentions. Maybe that was unfair, but you couldn’t help but feel like she was just taking—taking all the parts of Azriel that used to be all of yours to share, and twisting them into something else. Something that didn’t include his family.

Still, you wanted to try. To let go of the gnawing irritation in your chest and convince yourself it didn’t matter. If she made him happy—truly happy—then none of it should matter. You were adamant on ensuring that you didn’t turn into the stereotypical overbearing female best friend.

Elain tapped her glass lightly. “Lucien doesn’t like her.”

You blinked back into reality. “Really?”

She nodded, a beat passing before she added, “To be honest, I’m not sure I do either.”

Mor leaned forward, grinning like she’d been handed a stack of gold. You almost wished Amren was here to bask in the moment. Amren didn’t like Azriel’s girlfriend, either. Maybe your family really was as unwelcoming as people claimed. Or maybe Selene simply brought out another level of scrutiny. The thought of either option made you feel bad— gross. 

“Why?” Mor asked.

“She was dismissive toward Lucien. And,” Elain hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly, “She seemed… entitled, I suppose. Especially with Azriel. Like she expected him to accommodate her every whim.”

You frowned, turning over her words. “I’m sure she was just nervous. We can be an intimidating group. Maybe she just needs time to settle in. We just want Az to be happy, right? So, if she makes him happy, then I’m absolutely fine with her.”

The silence that followed was thick. For a moment, you wondered if you’d said something wrong. Something weird.

“Are you?” Elain asked, her tone sincere.

“Are you?” Mor echoed at the same time, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You shot Mor a glare, but she only raised her brows and sipped her wine again, infuriatingly unbothered. Exhaling, you willed yourself to meet Elain’s gaze.

“I am,” you said, trying for conviction. “Really.”

Elain pursed her lips. Her gaze shifted to Mor, lingering longer than you liked, and then back to you.

“Alright,” she hummed. “I guess I was wrong.”

You stilled. Elain reclined deeper into her seat, accepting a refill from Mor. Her wine glass remained only half-full compared to yours and Mor’s.

Curiosity burned. You leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Elain furrowed her brows. “What do I mean about what?”

“You said you guess you were wrong. What does that mean?”

Mor’s gaze bored into the side of your face. Any second now, you were sure she’d make some quip about how bothered you were. But you weren’t bothered. Just curious.

Elain swirled her wine, watching the light catch the liquid. “I’m not sure. Things feel off. Like something’s coming. Az needs help with it, I think.”

You froze. “Off? Like—how?”

She hesitated, thoughtful. “It’s hard to explain,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “But I feel it. In my chest. My visions sometimes do that. That’s why I asked.”

Well, that unsettled you. You glanced at Mor, whose amused grin had fallen into something more contemplative.

It seemed you might need to have a conversation with Azriel after all.

“I don’t like that,” you admitted, your nose crinkling. 

“I think I heard him get back earlier. Go talk to him,” Mor said, her tone gentler now, though a hint of mischief lingered in her eyes. You didn’t read too much into that. Mor’s eyes tended to be expressive. She also tended to be mischievous when her blood was primarily red wine. 

“Okay,” you said. “Maybe just to check in.”

Elain nodded. “Just to check in,” she echoed, almost reassuring.

“Have fun,” Mor added, her grin returning just enough to be annoying, but not enough to distract you from the unease curling in your chest.

You didn’t respond, instead taking another slow sip of your drink. The glass clinked softly as you set it down on the table before you made your way upstairs.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Mor turned to Elain. “Did you really feel something that unsettling?”

Elain let out a laugh. “No,” she said lightly. “I completely made that up. But she doesn’t need to know that.”

Mor’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. Seconds later, her head tilted back in a laugh just as vibrant as it was unapologetic.

“Genius,” she declared, raising her glass in mock salute.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The walk upstairs was quiet.

The townhome, in general, was quieter nowadays. Aside from the times others came to visit—like Lucien and Elain—only you and Azriel lived here full time.

When you reached Azriel’s bedroom door, your steps faltered for a moment. There was a hesitation in you that hadn't existed before. You raised your hand to knock, but the action felt more awkward than usual. It made you sad, momentarily, that you hesitated. You never second-guessed yourself with Azriel. You wanted to tread carefully in this new era of his life, though. You didn’t want to overstep, to become a nuisance. But whatever this was—whatever had unsettled Elain enough to mention it—you needed to know. Azriel had always been a constant for you, and if something felt “off,” you wanted to understand why.

Your knuckles rapped lightly on the door. “Az?” 

Inside, you heard the shuffle of movement, followed by his low, familiar voice. “Come in.”

You didn’t see Azriel immediately, but the smell of soap and the damp air told you that he recently showered. Shadows slithered across the floor, comfortable and excited, exploring the familiar confines of his room.

You greeted the tendrils as you usually did, letting them brush against your legs as you flopped onto his bed. The bed, like everything else in his room, was simple: plain black sheets, no extravagant pillows, just the bare necessities. It used to drive you mad, the emptiness of it all.  But what was in his room spoke volumes—— bare walls except for a dagger mount on one side, a small uncluttered desk with a well-worn sharpening stone. 

Azriel exiting the bathroom pulled your attention, your eyes settling on him as he rubbed his wet hair thoroughly with a towel. He shook his head slightly, wet curls bouncing onto his forehead, and met your gaze. His eyes flicked to where you lay, scanning your body. He nodded toward your feet.

“C’mon,” he almost whined. “No shoes on the bed.”

You looked down at yourself, grimacing as you realized that your shoes were, indeed, on his clean comforter. A simple set of house slippers, so nothing entirely too dirty, but it had completely slipped your mind. Very comfortable shoes, you noted, maybe you’d get Feyre a pair as a solstice gift.

“Oh whoops,” you said with an apologetic smile. “My bad, clean freak.”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the quirk of his lips anyways.

For a moment, the old sense of comfort settled over you. But then, a thought crept in—the thought that maybe you shouldn’t lie on his bed like this anymore. It had been fine before, but now… now it felt different. He had someone else in his life. It wasn’t weird, exactly, but it was a little inappropriate.

You sat up straighter.

“Did you and Mor grow tired of rehashing the same centuries old gossip?” He teased.

You snorted, watching as his shadows flitted above his shoulders. They were amused, laughing in their own way. “Never,” you responded, pushing yourself off his bed. You were drawn to the otherside of his room, to the simple dresser against the wall. “Elain joined us this time.”

Your back was to him, but you had a feeling that the momentary silence, the stillness that you felt, was a knee-jerk reaction from Azriel—something reminiscent of embarrassment, shame, or guilt at her name. But all he responded was, “Oh?”

“I like her,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I kinda wish I spent more time with her…”

You paused, your words trailing off quietly as you took in the small details before you. 

Azriel’s dresser had always been the one surface he decorated, not because he cared for decoration, but because it was the only surface large enough to hold anything. Over the years, it had become a quiet testament to the things that mattered to him: a mix of Solstice and birthday gifts, trinkets you’d both collected on missions and trips. You liked seeing what had changed, what had been added. It gave you a glimpse into where Azriel had been, who had been with him. 

Lately, there had been more—more trinkets, more oddities that stood in stark contrast to the weapons displayed elsewhere, the ones mostly hidden away in his closet. A macaroni necklace from Nyx. A horribly made clay version of him you’d created during a drunken pottery night with Feyre, Mor, and Amren.

But now, the dresser was foreign. The once familiar surface had been wiped clean, replaced by delicate perfume bottles, jewelry that looked too fine to be his, and a candle that smelled—oddly—like the puke of a flower faerie. Some of it was new. Most of it was hers.

Azriel’s presence had vanished from his own furniture entirely.

“Huh.”

“What?” Azriel asked.

You glanced over your shoulder. “I see you’ve decorated more.”

Azriel tilted his head, and a few of his shadows slithered down his body, crossing the room to pool around your ankles. “I guess,” he said. “Selene said my room needed more life.”

You leaned forward, brushing your fingers along the ceramic jewelry dish, the cool surface sending a strange chill through your skin. The shadows flickered over your hand, almost as if they were inspecting it too. They moved with purpose, then slowly obscured it, hiding it from view.

You frowned, confused.

Azriel, still silent, was rifling through his closet. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you as he moved, but he said nothing. The shadows returned to his side as you turned to look at him.

"Are you going somewhere?" you asked, trying to break the silence.

Now, Azriel barely spared you a glance.

“Yeah. Meeting Selene,” he replied simply.

After a few seconds of silence, Azriel turned his head and properly held your gaze. “Why? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you responded with a casual wave of your hand, but Elain’s words echoed in your mind. You cleared your throat. “Well, actually, no. I was hoping I could talk to you.”

He frowned, standing up straighter, his wings flexing with the motion. “Is it something serious?”

You paused, carefully filtering through your words. “No, just something that’s been on my mind.”

Azriel studied you, doubt flickering in his hazel eyes. It was the kind of look that always made you feel like he was reading you too easily. He probably didn’t believe you, not entirely—but he nodded anyway. His lips curved into a small, apologetic smile. “Raincheck then?”

You mirrored his smile, though it felt thin. “Yeah, sure. We can talk tomorrow, once we’re back from the Hewn City.”

Azriel stilled. The way his gaze dropped to the floor and lingered felt like a guilty dog, an animal caught in an act forbidden. “Shit,” he said, his tone cautious. “I can’t go.”

You blinked, the words taking a moment to settle. “Seriously? Az, Rhys is expecting an update.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere enough. It didn’t matter. “But you can handle it on your own, you know this.” 

“Are you serious?” you said, the hurt slipping out before you could stop it. “I don’t want to deal with Keir alone.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to Rhys, but Selene’s been wanting to—”

“Never mind,” you cut him off, shaking your head. You forced a smile. “Have fun tonight. And tomorrow.”

Azriel scanned your face. After another moment of silence, he sighed.

“Okay, what is it?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You clearly have something on your mind. Tell me.”

You hesitated, holding his gaze. “I actually wanted to talk to you about Selene.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened instantly. He looked away, his tongue running across his teeth as he shook his head. “Not you too. Don’t be like this.”

Your frown deepened, offended by the immediate shift in tone. “Be like what? I haven’t even said anything yet.”

He met your eyes again, his stare almost challenging. “We both know what you’re going to say.”

“Do we?”

“First Mor, then Nesta, and now you.” His voice was sharp, but not loud. “Should I be concerned that the females in my life are so quick to rally against my girlfriend?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms to mirror his pose. “Well, yeah, Az. Maybe you should be.”

He rolled his eyes, the shadows at his feet flickering with the motion. “Fine. What do you want to tell me, then?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the words lingering on the edge of your tongue. Azriel had always been good at looking through you, unraveling thoughts you hadn’t fully formed yet. And now, under the weight of his sharp gaze, you felt exposed.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Something flickered in his expression, quick and fleeting—too fast for you to decipher. For the first time in a long while, Azriel felt unreadable, like he’d drawn a curtain between himself and you. “Really?” he asked, his tone tight, almost incredulous.

You faltered, a small thread of doubt weaving its way through your resolve. Was he happy? Would he even tell you if he wasn’t?

“Yes, really,” you replied, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “You’ve been distant lately. Running around at her beck and call. None of us know her. I want to understand what’s going on with you. I want to understand her.”

Azriel’s wings shifted again, his gaze hardening.

“I want to make sure this is the kind of relationship you want,” you finished, quieter now.

The room fell into silence, heavy and still. Azriel watched you as if he was turning your words over and over in his mind. You waited, unsure of what to expect—if anything at all.

“I wouldn’t be in a relationship I didn’t want. Can we drop it, please.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What a strange, dismissive answer. It bothered you— bothered you more than anything he’d ever told you before. 

“Az, I just don’t want you to change who you are for someone. You don’t need to cater to her every whim.”

His expression darkened, shadows curling tighter around his boots. “I’m her boyfriend. I do what she asks.”

You raised an eyebrow, unable to stop the scoff that slipped out. Azriel had never been so clipped with you. “That’s not the definition of a boyfriend. That’s the definition of a bitch.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his wings flaring in irritation. “Excuse me?”  His voice cut through the room. “Do you really think I’m some incompetent love-sick loser?”

“I think you stop seeing flaws in the people you love.”

The words hung between you, heavier than you’d anticipated. A small part of you wondered if “love” was the word Azriel would use to describe his feelings for her. Another part worried that he didn’t correct you.

“That’s not true.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” he snapped. “I can clearly see that you’re being unfair. Quick to judge, much like Mor. That’s a flaw.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, “You know what I meant. The people you’re infatuated with—”

“Where is this sudden concern coming from?” he interrupted, his shadows now beginning to curl between you like restless mediators, unsure where to settle. “Are you trying to cause issues?”

Something ran hot through your body.

“Seriously? I’m talking to you about this because I care. Because Elain had some cryptic feeling about you—”

“Elain is involved in this conversation, too?” His voice dripped with frustration now. “Gods, Y/n, should I send word for Gwyn while we’re at it? Get her opinion?”

“What the hell has gotten into you?” You took an authoritative step forward.  “I’ve never judged you. I’ve always tried to support you and your messy love life, no matter how complicated. Don’t you trust me, Azriel? As a friend?”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his shadows flickering uncertainly, still deciding whether to retreat or rise.

You gestured around the room. “Look at this place. You’ve erased all traces of your family—of you, of us. Where did you even put—”

“Oh, gods.” Azriel’s voice broke through, and for a moment, you thought he might crumble. His wings folded, and his hand dragged across his face, the weight of his exhaustion sinking in. “She was right.”

You froze. “What?”

Azriel met your gaze, his eyes hesitant for a heartbeat before turning sharp. “About you. Selene said you were jealous. That you had feelings for me.”

The words hit like a slap, and your world tilted on its axis. “What?” you asked again, your voice breaking on the word. Maybe you had misheard him. Maybe he had misspoken.

“I told her she was wrong. But now…” He let the sentence hang in the air, searching your face for something that maybe wasn’t even there.

“Now, what?” Your voice rose, tinged with anger. “You think I’m here because I’m jealous? Because I have some… crush on you?”

His wings flared slightly at your tone, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t know. It’s just—why else would you care so much about this?”

Your stomach twisted, a deep, cold ache settling there. “Why else?” you repeated, the words bitter on your tongue. “Because I care about you, Azriel. Because you’ve been my friend for centuries. Are you seriously confused about this?” 

For a moment, Azriel’s expression faltered, but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he said, “I didn’t ask you to care about my love life.”

“You didn’t have to,” you snapped, stepping closer. “That’s what friends do. But you’re standing there, letting her perception of me—someone who doesn’t even know me—warp your judgment. You’ve known me longer than that. Or at least, I thought you did. And the fact that you’d entertain this—” You stopped, shaking your head. “It’s insulting.”

Azriel said nothing. He just stood there, shadows now curling tighter around him. 

You had no idea how this conversation had gotten away from you, no idea how it turned into this—where this defensiveness, this anger, had come from. This wasn’t Azriel. Loyal, overly so. Impulsive. Protective. 

Or maybe it was. Maybe that loyalty was directed at someone else now—someone who clearly saw you as something threatening. You’d never been on the other side of Azriel before. Never thought you’d see the day. The realization hit like a slap to the face, leaving you shocked, stunned, a pit opening in your stomach that felt too deep to climb out of.

“You know what? Forget it.” You stepped back, the fight draining out of you all at once.

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “Really? That’s it?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, your lips curving into something that might have been a smile if it weren’t so bitter. “Yeah,” you said, your voice flat. “That’s it.”

You turned for the door, hand on the handle, but paused. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, sharp and pointed, a petty jab that felt equal parts satisfying and hollow. “Make sure to lock this door when you leave—I’d hate to accidentally stumble back in and throw myself at you.”

Azriel stiffened, his wings snapping taut behind him. For a brief second, you thought he might say something, anything. But he didn’t.

You closed the door behind you with a heavy thud.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note: no one tell them they probs have feelings for each other bc they’ll probably fight you (also elains moment is so self indulgent bc i would totally be making shit up based off my powers. like yeah actually you can’t be mean to be :/ powers are saying you’ll die if you are)

part two? 😏 lmk if you wanna be tagged

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azriel tag list 🫶🏻:@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty @acourtofsteelandthunder  @mortqlprojections @ushijima-stits @honethatty12

[orangeblossomsintheair]

HONEY YOU’RE FAMILIAR | MV33

summary : For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

wc : 5k

an : writing this to distract myself from my other wips? ..i would never.. ��� also i wrote this at 12 am so let this not be a place of judgement :))

Max sometimes forgets how small Monaco is.

It’s easy to do when most of his memories of the place are a blur of fast cars and glittering parties. He spends most of his time racing through the streets during the Grand Prix or holed up in a hotel room overlooking the harbor.

When you’re constantly traveling the world, hopping between paddocks and podiums, the compactness of Monaco barely registers. It’s a speck on the map, a gilded bubble he never really bothers to think about until it’s right in his face.

But sometimes, like tonight, he’s reminded.

Monaco isn’t a city, not really.

It’s a playground. A handful of streets strung together like a necklace, choked with Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces, and yachts so big they could be small countries. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone.

Or, at the very least, they know of everyone.

The millionaires gossip about the billionaires. The bartenders know who tips in cash and who never tips at all. Even the stray cats probably have dirt on the local royals.

It’s not just small in size. It’s tight.

Wealth wraps around this place like a noose, strangling it into exclusivity.

There are no dark corners to disappear into, no sprawling suburbs to lose yourself in.

Just a few restaurants, a few clubs, and a few streets where the same people circle each other like they’re on a carousel. If you’re here long enough, you’ll eventually run into everyone you’ve ever met.

Even the ones you’ve been trying to avoid.

Max doesn’t think about that when he walks into the bar.

He’s not in the mood for deep reflection or existential dread. He’s here because Daniel said he needed a drink, and when Daniel Ricciardo says you need a drink, you listen.

That’s how Max ends up at some overpriced lounge that smells like vodka and ambition, standing under soft, warm lighting that’s trying too hard to make the place feel classy instead of claustrophobic.

He’s nursing a beer, half-listening to Daniel tell some convoluted story about a failed date and a stolen Vespa, when he hears it.

A voice.

Your voice.

It’s the kind of thing that cuts through the noise without him even realizing why. It’s not loud or particularly distinct; it’s not like you’re screaming or making a scene. But it’s you. The way you talk, your cadence, the rise and fall of your words. It’s all so achingly familiar that it grabs him by the throat and yanks.

Max freezes. His drink doesn’t make it to his lips.

The years fall away in a blink, and suddenly, it’s like no time has passed.

He’s twenty-two again, still figuring out how to smile for cameras, while you’re draped over the back of his couch, talking absolute nonsense about whether or not the cars in Cars have insurance or not.

He doesn’t even realize he’s turned to look until he spots you.

You’re standing at the bar, laughing as you say something to the bartender. It’s loud, and Max can’t hear you properly, but he can feel you.

The way you lean casually on the counter, the tilt of your head, the way you wave your hand to punctuate whatever you’re saying. It’s so painfully, annoyingly you.

And God, you look good.

For a second, all he can do is stare. You haven’t seen him yet, thank God, because Max Verstappen does not know what the hell to do with himself right now.

You look different.

Not in a drastic way, just… grown.

Your edges are sharper, your presence more refined, like a photo that’s come into focus after years of being a little blurry. But the core of you is still the same. It’s in the way you throw your head back when you laugh, like the world isn’t slowly crumbling under the weight of climate change, billionaires, and whatever Kardashian family drama is brewing this week.

And suddenly, Max is thrown back years.

To a time when you were his person. The one he called when things went sideways, or when he won, or when he was just bored and needed someone to hear him rant about understeer.

You were his best friend.

No. The friend. The one. The only one who ever really got him. And then…Well, then he was an asshole.

He tries to tell himself that you two drifted apart.

People do that, right? It’s life. Except that’s a lie, and Max knows it. You didn’t drift; you held on like a freaking tow hook. You tried—texted him, called him, showed up to races, tried to remind him there was a world outside of 300 km/h and tire degradation.

Max doesn’t know what to do with this. With you. He’s not used to seeing ghosts in real life, and you might as well be one now.

Max debates his next move. He could just… not. Pretend he didn’t notice you. Slip out quietly, finish his drink somewhere else, and avoid whatever emotional grenade this is about to be. That would be the smart thing. The logical thing.

But Max has never been great at logic.

For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

But then you glance over your shoulder.

And your eyes lock.

He doesn’t have time to decide whether to stay or bolt

You see him.

And Max realizes he’s fucked.

For a split second, he thinks you might look away, maybe pretend you didn’t see him either.

He’s not sure if he’s hoping for that or dreading it. But then your face lights up, and the look you give him isn’t what he expects.

It’s warm. Familiar. Like you’re genuinely happy to see him.

His chest tightens. Max isn’t sure what he thought he’d see. Resentment, awkwardness, indifference, maybe.

But this? This disarms him completely.

You wave, and before he knows it, his feet are moving.

“Maxy,” you say as he approaches, your voice carrying that teasing lilt that could only ever be you. It knocks the breath out of him, so familiar and effortless it almost hurts. “Long time no see.”

Max freezes for the briefest of moments, the nickname hitting him like a slap and a hug all at once. Maxy. No one’s called him that in years. Not his family. Not his team. Not anyone.

No one except you.

“Yeah, uh, long time,” he manages, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture so awkwardly familiar it almost makes you laugh. He looks like he’s 17 again, shy and unsure.

Before either of you can say more, Daniel sidles up next to him, a beer in hand and an amused eyebrow raised as he glances between the two of you. “Know her?” Daniel asks, his voice dripping with curiosity.

“He does,” you reply smoothly before Max can fumble an answer. Your smirk is playful, but there’s no bite to it, just that same easy warmth Max hasn’t felt in what feels like forever. “I used to keep this one in line. Back when he was all awkward interviews and tragic haircuts.”

Daniel barks out a laugh, glancing at Max’s meticulously styled hair. “Tragic haircuts? Wait, this-” he gestures wildly at Max’s head, like it’s some architectural masterpiece “-is the improved version?”

You’re already laughing, and it’s the kind of laugh Max hasn’t heard in years.

He groans, dragging a hand over his face, though the corners of his mouth are betraying him with a faint smile. “Don’t encourage her,” he mutters to Daniel, but his tone is far too soft to have any weight.

It’s stupid how easy this feels. How natural. Max isn’t used to easy anymore.

Daniel, bless him, is soaking it all in.

“So?” he says, giving Max a teasing nudge. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, or do I have to guess?”

“I was getting there,” Max grumbles, shooting him a half-hearted glare before looking at you. For a moment, he falters. He doesn’t know what to call you. Acquaintance feels too cold. Stranger would be a lie. And friend? That feels like stepping too far into a past he’s not sure he’s ready to face.

“An old friend,” you offer, saving him effortlessly, like you always did. “And you must be the famous Daniel Ricciardo.”

Daniel grins, full of boyish charm. “Guilty as charged,” he says, tipping his beer in a mock toast. “And let me just say, I already like you. Great taste in insults.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Ricciardo,” you say, though your smirk says otherwise.

The three of you fall into an almost absurdly natural rhythm, as though you’ve all been doing this for years. Daniel’s effortless charisma bounces off your sharp wit, and Max finds himself smiling more in five minutes than he has in weeks.

Maybe months.

It’s like the weight on his shoulders has lifted, just for a moment, and he can breathe again.

You’re mid-story when he realizes he hasn’t felt this light in ages.

“So there I was,” you’re saying to Daniel, gesturing dramatically, “dragging Max out of his hotel room because he was refusing to face the world after a bad race.”

“I wasn’t refusing to face the world,” Max interjects, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

You give him a look that could level a building. “You were lying on the floor eating Haribo like it was your last meal,” you say, deadpan. “It was tragic. Genuinely tragic.”

Daniel’s cackling now, nearly spilling his beer. “Please tell me there are photos of this.”

“Sadly, no,” you reply with mock disappointment. “But the image is burned into my brain forever. It was that bad.”

Max groans, shaking his head, though the grin tugging at his lips is impossible to hide. “Why did I ever let you into my life?”

“Because no one else could handle you,” you fire back, and it’s so quick, so natural, it makes his chest ache.

Daniel takes a step back, still laughing. “You two are too much,” he says, pointing at the two of you like you’ve just performed a comedy sketch. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t get too emotional without me, okay? I’m going to find another beer. Or maybe a Vespa to steal. Who knows?”

You watch him disappear into the crowd, still grinning. For a moment, the two of you are left standing there, and the noise of the party seems to fade just slightly.

“Daniel’s fun,” you say, breaking the silence.

“He is,” Max agrees.

When the music starts bumping up again, the two of you are faced with a whole other problem entirely.

“So, you’ve been busy!” you yell, leaning across the sticky bar top, your voice barely cutting through the bass thumping around you.

“What?” Max shouts back, leaning closer.

“I SAID, YOU’VE BEEN BUSY!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHY I’M SHOUTING!”

“WHAT?”

You throw your hands up in exasperation, but he just smirks, clearly enjoying this.

So you double down.

“DO YOU WANT ANOTHER DRINK?” you bellow, miming holding a glass.

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT DRINKS?” he shouts back, baffled.

“BECAUSE IT’S TOO LOUD IN HERE!”

“WHAT?”

This back-and-forth nonsense goes on for an impressively ridiculous three minutes, the two of you getting progressively louder, until Max finally groans, shaking his head like he’s reached his limit.

He steps closer, leans in like he’s about to shout something else, then just presses a warm, steady hand to the small of your back. “Come on,” he says, not even bothering to raise his voice this time.

“What?” you yell, still committed to the bit.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts gently steering you toward the stairs, and you stumble a little, caught off guard by the unexpected physical contact.

“Where are we going?” you shout, craning your neck to look at him as you climb.

“UPSTAIRS!”

“WHY?”

“BECAUSE I VALUE MY HEARING!” he fires back, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“OH, NOW YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR HEARING?” you tease, but he ignores you, his hand still firm and insistent on your back as he guides you upstairs.

The VIP section is quieter, tucked away from the pulsating bass and the sweaty chaos of the main club floor. Max had slipped a word to a bouncer—who nodded in a way that made you roll your eyes—and now you’re here, sinking into the plush leather of a semi-circular booth with a ridiculous view of the dance floor below.

The second you step into the VIP area, the relative silence hits you like a warm blanket. You blink, adjusting to the sudden absence of aggressive EDM, and turn to Max, who looks much too smug for your liking.

“Smuggled into VIP like I’m some sort of black-market item,” you tease. “Careful, Verstappen. This is how egos start.”

“You’re welcome,” he says dryly.

“For what?” you shoot back. “The privilege of not getting tinnitus at 27?”

“Yes,” he replies smoothly, sliding into a nearby booth like he owns the place. “You’re lucky to know me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “My life has improved immeasurably since you dragged me up here. I’ll write a thank-you card.”

“Make sure it’s handwritten,” he quips, signaling a waiter for drinks. “And don’t skimp on the stationery.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes but you’re smiling, and he knows it.

He chuckles, leaning forward slightly. “Hey, if you’re going to criticize, at least admit this is better than shouting at each other over terrible music.”

You glance around the room, all dark wood and dim lighting, where a few scattered people are having hushed conversations or staring down at the dance floor with an air of superiority. “Alright,” you admit, “it’s not terrible. But the crowd up here…”

You nod toward a guy at the next table wearing sunglasses, inside, and sipping champagne like it’s water. “Is this your scene now? Bottle service bros and indoor eyewear enthusiasts?”

Max glances at the guy, smirking. “Not my scene. But I figured you deserved something better than sticky floors and overpriced tequila shots.”

You laugh. “Wow. I feel so special. Nothing says friendship like a quiet room and a drink I can’t pronounce.”

“Admit it,” he says, leaning back again. “You love it.”

“I love judging it,” you correct, grinning. “Big difference.”

Max watches you for a moment, shaking his head with an almost fond expression. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“And you’ve changed too much,” you shoot back, gesturing at his ridiculously put-together outfit. “Look at you, Verstappen. Fancy haircut, custom clothes, actual social skills. Who are you?”

“First of all, the haircut is functional,” he retorts, mock offended. “Aerodynamics.”

“Oh, of course. Wouldn’t want your hair slowing you down at 300 kph,” you say, pretending to be serious.

“It’s a real thing!” he insists, laughing now. “If you knew anything about racing-”

“If I knew anything about racing?” you interrupt, your voice rising in mock outrage. “Excuse me, I was there when you had to Google how to talk to the media without sounding like a robot. You think I don’t know the intricacies of racing, Maxy?”

“Don’t call me Maxy,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, I’m definitely calling you Maxy,” you say, delighted. “I might even get a custom T-shirt. ‘Maxy’s Biggest Fan.’ I’ll wear it to a race.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “If you do that, I’ll steal your phone and delete every embarrassing photo you’ve ever taken of me.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have backups,” you say smugly, sipping your drink.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

For a moment, the two of you fall into an easy silence, the noise of the club below fading into the background. You glance at Max, noting the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way he’s fiddling with the label on his beer bottle—a habit he’s had for as long as you can remember.

“So,” you say, breaking the quiet, “what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve bought since you became all… you know.”

“All what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” you say, waving a hand vaguely. “World Champion. Multi-millionaire. Guy who smuggles old friends into VIP sections.”

He chuckles. “Ridiculous? I don’t know… probably the private jet.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “The private jet is the least ridiculous thing about you, Verstappen. Try again.”

“Fine,” he says, thinking for a moment. “I bought a sauna for my house. Didn’t use it for six months.”

You burst out laughing. “A sauna? For what? Post-race existential crises?”

He groans, rubbing his temples. “It was a bad idea, okay? I thought it would be relaxing.”

“Did it come with, like, a tiny man who throws water on the rocks for you?” you ask, grinning.

“No, but now I kind of want one,” he admits, laughing.

“God, you’re the worst,” you say, shaking your head, but your tone is full of affection.

“And you’re jealous,” he fires back.

“Of your unused sauna?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m absolutely consumed with envy.”

The two of you dissolve into laughter and the conversation continues.

Next thing you know it’s 3 am and you and Max are stumbling out of the club, too giggly for both of your sakes.

Daniel had hopped on to another place hours ago so it’s just you and him.

The cool night air hits you like a slap, but instead of sobering up, it just makes you giggle harder.

Max freezes mid-stumble, his head lolling back like he’s auditioning for Les Mis on the world’s worst stage. “Why’s the air so aggressive?” he slurs. “Feels like it’s… pushing me. Rude.”

“Why’s the ground so spinny?” you counter, stumbling sideways into him.

“'Cause you’re bad at walking,” he accuses, latching onto your arm like a barnacle while swaying dramatically.

“You’re bad at walking,” you fire back, immediately tripping over a shadow and nearly eating pavement.

“You can’t even walk straight!” Max protests, laughing as he catches you before you faceplant.

His arm slides around your waist, steadying you in the most unsteady way possible.

“You’re the one spinning,” you argue, slurring every other word. “Maaaybe you should ju- just stay still for once in your life.”

“Oh, because you’re the expert,” he fires back, wheezing as you nearly trip again. “Where- where are you even staying at?”

You squint at him, trying to focus. “Uh… good question.”

Max stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “What do you mean good question? How do you not know?”

“I don’t rememb- ber,” you admit, cackling as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Max groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re just- what? Homeless now?”

“Homeless for the night,” you correct, wagging a finger at him like that somehow makes it better.

Max laughs so hard he has to pause, doubling over slightly. “How- how do you forget where you’re staying?”

“’S not my fault!” you defend yourself, leaning heavily against him. “The hotel has, like… a name! A boring one! And too many floors!”

Max groans so loudly it echoes off the buildings. “Oh my God. You’re homeless now. You’re a wandering drunk with no home.”

“I'm trying a new lifestyle,” you say, grinning. “Like… nomadic, y’know? Spiritual.”

“Yeah, okay, Buddha, let’s find you a real place to sleep before you start befriending rats,” he mutters, dragging you down the street.

“I like rats,” you say cheerfully. “They’re just misunderstood.”

“You’re misunderstood,” Max shoots back. “Come on. You’re crashing at my hotel. I can’t leave you out here to, like, adopt a possum or something.”

“I don’t wanna!” you whine, digging your heels into the ground.

“Tough!” Max barks, throwing his arm around your shoulders to keep you moving. “You’ll thank me in the morning when you’re not spooning a garbage can.”

You groan dramatically, slumping into him. “Maxxyyy, I’m tired. Can’t I just sleep on a bench or something?”

“Nooo. No benches. Benches are gross. You’ll get, like… pigeons on you.”

“Pigeons are my friends,” you declare solemnly, as if this is a hill you’re prepared to die on.

Max shakes his head, clearly trying to stay serious but failing miserably. “Okay, Dr. Dolittle, you’re not sleeping outside.”

You groan again, dragging your feet even as he starts pulling you along.

“Stop whining,” he slurs, swaying as he tries to walk in a straight line. “It’ll be like- like a sleepover! Like when we were five.”

“Sleepovers at five were better,” you mutter. “Less… you.”

“Excuse me?” Max stops, glaring at you like you’ve mortally offended him. “I’m the best sleepover buddy. I let you steal my Haribo once.”

“You hid the Haribo under your pillow!” you counter, poking him in the chest.

“’Cause you’re a thief!” he says, grinning as he pulls you toward the street corner.

“Am not,” you huff, pouting.

“Are too,” he replies, but his tone is teasing as he hails a cab.

When the cab pulls up, it feels like the world is tilted just enough that the ground might collapse under your feet at any moment. You both tumble into the backseat in a fit of giggles, your laughter echoing off the darkened streets.

It’s the kind of laughter that’s born of a little bit too much alcohol and a whole lot of absurdity. You could’ve sworn you heard a streetlight flicker in disbelief at the sound of your shared joy.

“You smell like tequila and poor decisions,” he mutters with a lazy drawl, his words slow but somehow still cutting through the haze of the night.

Max flops dramatically against you as if the very act of sitting upright requires more effort than it’s worth.

His head lands squarely on your shoulder, and for a split second, you’re both tangled in the shared warmth of a really questionable decision.

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, and grins like a kid who just got away with stealing candy.

Max’s eyes widen in mock outrage. “I did not!” He shoots up from your shoulder like you just insulted his very existence, but the motion sends him veering dangerously toward the cab door.

You’re already shaking your head before you even speak, the words spilling out one over the other. “You smell like someone who wore Axe in high school.”

He catches himself at the last second, gripping the seat like it’s a lifeline.

Max is practically in tears from laughing, his snort-laugh echoing off the walls of the cab as he tries to argue that Axe is, in fact, a perfectly fine product, just poorly misunderstood by society.

By the time the cab pulls up to Max’s hotel, you're both deep into a discussion about whether Axe body spray could be classified as a biohazard in certain quantities.

It’s a ridiculous debate, fueled by far too much tequila and a complete disregard for logic, but it’s the most fun either of you have had in ages.

The cab screeches to a halt, and Max stumbles out first, holding the door open for you with the kind of exaggerated flair you’d expect from someone who probably practices his dramatic entrances in front of a mirror.

As he pays the driver, his wallet slips from his hands not once, but twice, and he’s already apologizing profusely, his face flushed from the alcohol and his own clumsiness.

Finally, he gets the wallet sorted, tucks it back in his pocket, and reaches down to drag you out of the cab like you’re a piece of luggage.

You’re both barely standing, teetering back and forth on your feet as if gravity itself is conspiring to make the night even more ridiculous.

“Your palace has really ugly carpet,” you mutter, laughing as you trip over the offending fabric, your feet not quite able to keep up with your brain’s idea of where they should go.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Max says, throwing his arm out grandly to gesture toward the hotel lobby like he’s unveiling the Louvre.

The marble floors, polished to a shine, the sleek, understated furniture… none of it compares to the visual assault that is the ugly carpet underfoot.

Max snorts, his hand steadying you as you almost face-plant into a particularly gaudy potted plant. “You���re banned from the palace,” he retorts, giving you a playful shove.

You recover, and together, you stagger toward the elevator, which, for some reason, feels like an obstacle course in itself.

The elevator doors open with a dramatic ding, and Max promptly starts jabbing the wrong floor button in a series of random, very confident moves.

Each one is a miss, but he keeps at it, as if this were somehow part of the plan.

Max grumbles under his breath but finally, miraculously, hits the correct floor button. He turns to you with an exaggerated wink. “See? I told you. Genius.”

You lean against the wall, your body shaking with laughter as you struggle to breathe through the giggles.

“This is why they don’t let you operate machinery,” you manage to gasp, watching him fumble with the buttons in disbelief.

You raise an eyebrow, patting him on the head condescendingly. “Sure you are, buddy. A true mastermind.”

When the doors finally open, you both stumble out, holding on to each other uselessly.

The elevator ride is a blur of jokes and half-baked insults as you both fight to keep your composure.

Max leans against the wall with a smug look, clearly reveling in his victory over the elevator button.

“Jesus. You okay there, Einstein?” you tease, leaning casually against the wall and watching him drop the card once more. You can’t help but laugh.

At the door to his room, Max proceeds to fumble with his key card in a way that can only be described as tragically incompetent.

The key card slips from his fingers twice, and each time, he lets out a string of expletives in a garble of Dutch and English.

“Shut up,” he mutters, his voice already tinged with frustration. “Technology’s hard.”

“This bed is softer than my hopes and dreams,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the comforter as you stretch out like a starfish.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door swings open, and Max stumbles inside with the grace of a rhino on roller skates.

He turns to face you with a theatrical sigh. “There. I did it. Happy now?”

You’re already halfway to the bed, your shoes flying off in opposite directions, one ending up by the dresser and the other getting lodged under a chair.

With a dramatic thud, you collapse onto the bed, your body sinking into the soft, luxurious comfort like it was the only thing holding you together.

“Nope,” you reply, barely lifting a finger to indicate where his side is. “Your side’s over there,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the edge of the bed, but it’s clear from the way your eyes are barely staying open that you’re not in any shape to play the “bedroom politics” game.

Max, predictably, flops down beside you with the subtlety of a sack of bricks, his arms and legs sprawling out in every direction.

“Move over,” he grumbles, his face smooshed into the pillow.

“Too bad,” Max grunts, grabbing your pillow from beneath your head and smushing it over his face. “This is a dictatorship, and I’m the dictator.”

For a brief moment, it feels like nothing’s changed at all.

“Goodnight, Haribo hoarder,” you slur, your words trailing off into nothing as sleep drags you under.

The last thing you hear before you fully fade into unconsciousness is Max’s muffled laugh, and you can’t help but smile.

—-

Max stretches, or at least tries to. His arms flail in an uncoordinated spasm, which results in a series of awkward grunts and a pop from his back that sounds like a joint trying to jump ship.

Max’s eyes snap open, and for a second, everything is blurry.

He blinks a few times, the weight of his eyelids making it feel like he’s wading through molasses.

A dull ache sits in the back of his skull, a reminder of the questionable choices he made the night before.

He groans, dry, scratchy, the kind of noise that only belongs to mornings where you regret both your life decisions and your snack choices.

He’s still in his room. So far, so good.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary... except for that persistent feeling in the air that something is off.

For a second, he considers staying perfectly still, hoping his body will remember how to function like a normal human.

But then—

There’s something warm beside him. Something... alive.

Max freezes, eyes snapping wide open. His breath catches in his throat as he tries to process what’s happening. The warmth next to him isn’t the soft comfort of a pillow.

It’s... a person.

A person in his bed.

What the actual hell?

His brain goes into overdrive, trying to make sense of the situation. His mind races through a thousand thoughts in a second, each one more ridiculous than the last.

Did he... did he end up getting a stranger drunk last night? Did someone break into his room to cuddle with him?

Max’s eyes dart to his left, and it hits him like a freight train.

The person is you.

You, sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, your hair tousled and your face peaceful, completely unaware of his mounting panic.

“I need to call Daniel..”

For a moment, Max just stares, brain failing to catch up.

How did this happen? His head starts swimming. His mouth goes dry. His first thought is that he’s dreaming..except, no.

This is far too real. He’s not that lucky.

[melminli]

Love To Dream

summary - there was this one girl that thanos really wanted, though, she didn't really want to have anything to do with him. unfortunately, that made him want her even more.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: modern au, mention of drugs, enemies to lovers vibes ig, crack, yearning

a/n: i don't even know what this is tbh but I felt like we all deserved some laughs ;)

Life was good - life was really fucking good, Thanos thought to himself as he winked charmingly at a group of hot girls. They had been looking in his direction for a while now while giggling, clearly interested in him. He continued to watch them as he sipped his drink, the club music pumping through his veins like adrenaline. Thanos's eyes darkened as the girls continued to cast lustful glances in his direction - he knew he could easily get more than one of them into bed tonight and why wouldn't he? It hadn't been long since his last performance on stage, reminding everyone present once again of his legendary status in this club.

However, his attention was focused somewhere entirely else after the most breathtaking person ever decided to walk past him. The pick-up lines he had been thinking of for the group, vanished from his mind after this angel showed up in front of him since the other girls could barely compare. The whole thing looked like something out of a scene from a Kdrama because time seemed to pass in slow motion and your hair was swinging in the air like that of a princess - which would have been the perfect time for some product placement because it just looked so damn soft.

Thanos had his mouth wide open in shock and put a hand over his heart to check if it was still beating while his eyes never left your figure. You - who was leaning prettily against the bar right next to him as you ordered something from the bartender.

“Hey.” he finally recovered from the moment and casually moved towards you. “I'd introduce myself, but I assume you already know me.” he talked to you with his flirty face as soon as you looked up at him.

You smiled shyly. “Yeah, I watched your performance,” you answered him and seemed quite grateful that he was speaking to you right now. “You were pretty good.” you giggled slightly as you complimented him.

“Yeah, that's just how I am.” he sighed as he looked around the room as if it was a burden for him to have to live with all the recognition. His eyes met yours again and he tried to impress you by unpacking a few bars while emphasizing them with the movements of his hands. “Girl, I know you and I are meant to be because after I looked at your pretty face everything stopped being. If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately.” he rapped to you, stealing the last line from some One Direction song, but you didn't need to know that.

You shyly put your hands in front of your face to hide your smile. “Oh my god, that was so incredibly sexy, I'm so horny for you right now.” the words came out of your mouth and made Thanos screw up his face weirdly for a second.

Because first of all, those vulgar words didn't match your innocent demeanor in the slightest - and secondly, you said exactly what Thanos had imagined you would say - it was actually a bit creepy since you literally said it word for word. Thanos hardly thought that he could foresee the future all of a sudden or that you could maybe read minds, though he decided to ignore the whole thing as soon as you started touching his chest softly with your hands. He wanted you so bad.

“You don't even know what you're doing to me right now,” he whispered to you while you felt him so sensually and he was about to kiss you, hadn't you stopped his lips with your hand as you laughed into his face. “I think you should wake up now. Otherwise, the pink elephant will keep handing out balloons to people.” You told him, pointing behind him to where the bar was supposed to be.

“Hah?” he asked you confused and turned around while continuing to hold you in his arms, but all he saw were a few dogs breakdancing - and that was nothing out of the ordinary. He continued to look at the scene with a grin, even though some inner voice inside him was stressing out about kissing you immediately as if he was running out of time. He finally turned back to you and was about to continue when he suddenly heard a man speak. “You really should wake up man.” Nam-gyu's voice told him and Thanos only caught himself almost kissing him after he took a closer look. He just pushed him away from him in disgust and then -

Thanos woke up from his sleep, bathed in sweat, when he saw your face in his field of vision. “Finally, you're sleeping like a dead man. There's some guy at the door who wants to talk to you,” you told him as he sat up tiredly while slowly recovering from his strange dream.

That's right. You weren't just some hot girl he met at the club, you were his fucking roommate. Thanos discreetly pushed more blanket over his lap as he tried to shoo you away from his room with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah - I'll be right there, just - give me a moment,” he said without looking you in the face.

You just sighed slightly and complied with his request, though not without letting him know how unhappy you were. “I told you to stop giving our address to these dealers. I don't like it when they show up here,” you grumbled under your breath before dashing out and closing the door behind you.

After that, Thanos let out a very heavy sigh and stroked his face aggressively. “Now she's showing up in my dreams, too? Fucking great.” he grumbled to himself and got up from the bed to put on some decent clothes. His eyes met his own reflection as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Get a grip man, what's wrong with you?” he asked himself as he grimaced in annoyance. “You're Thanos the destroyer, not some kind of -”

“Stop taking so long and come here already!” your voice suddenly shouted, coming through his door slightly muffled.

He looked even more annoyed at that and made his way to the living room while shouting back at you. “I'm fucking on it, alright!” and it only took a few loud steps from him to your front door for him to yank it open to fix the damn problem. He looked at his friend, completely bothered by his presence. “What do you want?” he asked him and was kinda glad that it at least wasn't Nam-gyu because he just really didn't want to see his face at the moment and probably for a little while.

“Hello, to you, too.” the man in front of him greeted him, already used to his weird mood swings. “I just wanted to do you a favor by bringing you some of the pills you wanted because last time you almost beat me up when I didn't have them with me,” he explained, holding the bag, which Thanos grabbed instantly before inspecting it more closely. “Don't act like you didn't deserve it, I paid you the money in advance, man. Of course, I was angry,” he complained again and would probably have beaten him up for real right now if he had ruined his morning over something completely unnecessary. However, he would still have to make sure that something like this didn't happen again so that you didn't have another reason to kick him out of the apartment.

“You know, maybe this was meant to be. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been greeted by an absolute hottie today,” he said happily as he stood there, still interested. “Is she your cousin or something? Do you want to introduce me to her?” he asked and was quite confident in the way he acted, but Thanos just looked at him emotionlessly for a few seconds until he slammed the door in his face.

"Okay, he's gone now!" he exclaimed, bored, and made his way into the kitchen, where you were sitting with a cup of coffee or something while scrolling on your phone. "Don't open the door for that guy if he shows up again," he said, grabbing a cold Sprite from the fridge. You just looked at him with a displeased look. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll make sure that he and no one else shows up after today. But, I'm just saying that in case it still somehow happens."

Thanos then opened the can and drank from it while he continued to watch your face from the side. Eventually, he sat down next to you, although, to his dissatisfaction, that didn't seem to get your attention. "Hey, you want to go on a date?" He asked, and you weren't sure how many times he asked you that by now. You kept scrolling on Instagram. "You know my answer to that."

Thanos continued to grin hopefully. "Yes?" he asked and then watched you disappear out of the kitchen with your cup of coffee in your hand - probably to your room. "You should be glad that I'm even asking you! Other girls would die for..." he muffled towards the end before he stopped talking entirely once he realized that you weren't giving him a reaction.

Maybe, I should just go back to sleep, he thought to himself dejectedly, unable to believe that he had actually better chances with you in dreams with pink elephants and breakdancing dogs.

[cheshirewrites]

It's been years since you fought the dragon, years since you pierced it's crimson scaled and dug your blade into its heart. It was a quick death, and not the slow, painful kind that the King had demanded of you, and some might have even called it merciful.

You fought a lot of things, back then.

You've learned better now.

You left the King's service, citing a quest for your godly patron, and it's not quite a lie. Your patrol is a wild thing, a once scorned Goddess who adores the loyal, but not like most would expect. The Goddess prizes dedication to someone's own ideals, and well-

After what you learned, leaving is not a hard choice to make.

But your Goddess approved, her laughter curling in the back of your mind, and the King hadn't argued, or at the very least, he doesn't make any arguments that aren't easy for you to refute.

It wasn't easy, at first, transitioning from a busy knight to an aimless wanderer. There was no order or schedule to follow, just an endless road through the contry side and all of the towns built around it. And the people, of course, you know now that the people were what made it all worth it.

And now?

It's been years since you fought the dragon, years since you heard those ominous words. I will come back, the beast had said, you will not know what form I will take, or how long it will take, but you will see me again.

These days, you were less rash, slower to anger. The kind of person who asked questions first, and rarely ever raised a blade. You have a wife, a brilliant alchemist with dark curls and a cutting smile. Rose calls herself a cottage witch, and she laughs alongside the Goddess in your head, twin voices ringing with amusement, and you have never been more happy.

You have a son now, too, though, neither of you had expected it.

The boy introduces himself as Victor, standing outside your door with a crooked, toothy grin as he holds out his hand. Says that he'd heard they were the people to talk to, if you had a certain aptitude for magic, and well, here he is.

And indeed, here he is.

Victor, with his fever bright, golden eyes.

The you from years ago would have raised your sword in an instant, pushed Rose behind you and demanded some kind of response. It's what you were trained to do, after all, but you've learned better now.

So you smile, and shake the boy's hand. He's warm, you think, but don't say. "Welcome," you say instead, "why don't you come inside? Rose, my wife, is the one you should speak to."

To put it lightly, Victor and Rose get along like a house on fire.

Victor isn't necessarily quick to anger, but he knows exactly where to redirect his words, and Rose, witty as she is, knows exactly how to manage it. Knows how to redirect his sharp tongue into something calmer, whether it's muttering curses under his breath or bantering back and forth far too quickly for you to keep up.

He's good for her, too, you think, watching them experiment with magic. Rose has always wanted an apprentice, someone to pass her life's work onto and -- if they were interested -- try and create something new.

And gods, they create.

You, a heroic paladin have successfully slain a fearsome dragon. But the dragon warns you that death is but a door, and dragons don’t die, they reincarnate. You paid it no mind….until your son was born with golden, slitted eyes.

[sturnlsstuff]

GENTLEMAN | matt sturniolo

loser!matt x partygirl!reader

matt gets dragged to a party, when he meets the "party queen" who definitely doesn't find him terribly boring like he thought she would, which she makes sure he understands.

requested by @mattsobvimyfav . divider credits. @anitalenia

— warnings; smutty smut, sub!matt, soft!dom!reader, making out, blowjob, riding, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, whiny matt (hot alert), pet names (pretty/good boy, baby, sweetheart...) cursing, praise kink lowkey, mentions of weed, cigs and alcohol, — english isn't my first language.

women like you were out of the league for guys like matt. you were a typical popular girl, partying every week and not like normal people did. you were the queen of the dance floor. party queen, that's how people called you. everyone with eyes and a brain admired the graceful way you carried yourself around. never missing parties, always staying until the very end, usually your friends had to carry you out of the building due to the excess alcohol in your blood and inability to stand on your own feet. when you were telling a joke, everyone laughed. when you were taking shots, so did others, that's how convincing you were.

you could have any guy you wanted, but no one was perfect for your standards. you were admired by girls who wanted to be like you and guys who wanted you.

matt was one of those people. he admired you.

he didn't know you well as a person who kept away from people. he was an observer type, only talked to his closest friends, of whom he had few. maybe even a little shy, that's what people called him, but really when he felt comfortable? he could be so interesting.

he had never talked to you before, only ever heard about you or knew what he had noticed. matt wasn't the party type, usually was practically dragged out of the comfort of his room. he didn't like looking for adventures. and today? some girl that his brothers were friends with, and that matt knew by sight, had a birthday and of course chris and nick once again dragged him out of the house for the party, ignoring his complaints. so that's how he found himself in this house full of rich, drunk kids, loud music blasting in his ears, every now and then someone would trip over his legs, causing him to roll his eyes. he sat half the party on the couch in the corner of the main room, arms crossed and beer in hand. he really wanted to go home, but his brothers would kill him if he didn't last until midnight. half an hour left.

unable to bear it any longer, he finally goes outside where the music was a little muffled, giving him the feeling of getting to breathe again. maybe that was the case. being surrounded by so many people was overwhelming. he lights a cigarette, which was his little addiction but helped him relax, and leans against the wall, praying that the minutes go by faster.

he started getting more and more relaxed, finally at peace, tilting his head back and blowing out clouds of smoke until he heard giggles. his eyes immediately opening, noticing you and your two friends coming out from behind the building and walking crookedly towards him, you searching for something in your purse. he would recognize the party queen everywhere.

"... i can't find it!! i swear i had it!!" you laugh, giving up with whatever you wanted to find, your purse slips off your shoulder just by the front door of the house, right next to where matt was standing. he automatically bends down and hands it to you, drawing the attention of you and your friends to him, which makes his heart beat faster. "oh helloooo, thank you," a smile appears on your face, that brings a slight warmth to his cheeks.

"yeah, no problem," he tries to keep it cool, scratching the back of his neck nervously. you look at your friends, gasping playfully, "ohhh, maybe this gentleman will have a lighter—" your gaze goes back to his blue eyes that were now wide. "do you have a lighter??? i think i lost mine!"

"a what— oh—" he snaps out of his trance, staring too hard at you which makes him blush even more. you were so beautiful. he clears his throat, "yeah, uh, i have one..." he hands it to you, your friends giggling at his nervousness, while you thought he's being really cute. "here you go."

"you're a life saveeeerrrrr," you're about to start searching for the cigarettes but he's quick to pass his own pack to you. "oh god, you're like an angel," your grin widens as you take a cigarette from him, putting it between your lips and lighting it up.

"girlll, my song is playing! can you hurry up?" your friend complains, causing you to roll your eyes.

"just go, i'll come in a minute."

"you sure?"

"yeah, go," you repeat yourself and stand next to matt who was leaning against the wall against, his heart pounding in his chest. he could feel your perfume mixed with... weed, perhaps? you give him the lighter and cigarettes back with a simple 'thank you'.

you both stand next to each other in silence that was starting to weigh on him, but he wasn't able to speak first. you both smoke your cigarettes when you finally look at him again. dressed all in black, a beer in one hand, on which you notice tattoos. oh, he's handsome as fuck.

"so" you speak up, getting his attention. "does this gentleman have a name?"

he smiles shyly, overwhelmed by your beauty. "i'm matt."

"matt," you repeat, tasting his name on your tongue. "i like it. suits you."

the way you repeat his name makes him feel both uncomfortable and strangely excited at the same time. he rubs the back of his neck nervously again, blowing out the smoke, just as you say your name too. he gives you a glance, "i know."

"oh, do you?" a smirk appears on your lips as you take another drag. he replies hesitantly, "well, i mean... who doesn't?"

you nod confidently, "right." your eyes travel to his tattooed arm again, feeling your stomach twisting in knots at the sight. he catches it and looks down at his arm as well. "i like them. make you look hotter," you confess.

he blinks, caught of guard by your words. he wasn't really used to people, especially not girls like you, saying things like that to him. mostly because he barely was leaving his house. he feels his heart race, a warmth spreading through his chest. "thanks."

"of course," you respond casually, checking him out once again before looking away with a small smile and taking another drag of the cigarette. you were slightly high, not really that drunk yet and you knew what you were doing. his awkwardness was so cute, there was no way you'd let this man go so quickly tonight. you actually felt like you need to have him.

matt finishes his beer in one swing, putting the empty bottle aside, causing your attention to get back to him.

the more you looked at him, the more he reminded you of someone, but there was no way you talked or even seen matt before. though, you decide to ask, "wait, don't i know you already?"

he raises his eyebrow, locking eyes with you. "me? i don't think so." i would definitely want you to, he thinks.

"oh, 'cause i feel like i do. or maybe you just remind me of someone—"

"i'm a triplet. you probably know my brothers."

"ohhh, wait—" you snap your fingers, trying to remember. "yeah, chris and— and nick? oh, now i know. never seen you before though. lowkey thought they're bullshitting about being triplets."

matt smiles amused, taking one last drag and throwing the butt of the cigarette on the ground, trampling it with his shoe. "yeah, m'not really out going."

"i see," you nod, smiling back. "i'd definitely remember you."

he chuckles softly, feeling his face warm at your words again. damn, get your shit together matthew. "really, huh?"

"yeah. with this looks and that—?" you point at his tattoos. "i promise, i would remember."

you didn't feel like beating around the bush, you liked him. he was extremely handsome, his hair looked so soft you wanted to run your hand through it, his eyes made you weak in your knees and his lips begged to be kissed. not to mention the aura he had around him, he intrigued you. matt was different than the rest of those assholes you met at parties.

he looks away shyly, the smile on his face makes your heart flutter. literal butterflies — something you've never had before.

you finish the cigarette in a comfortable silence, getting slightly overwhelmed after the weed you smoked before. leaning against the wall, your shoulder brushes against his, drawing his attention back to you.

"you good?"

"mhm, it's that cigarette, give me a second."

he nods, watching as you throw the rest of it aside. "okay. jus' don't go passing out on me."

"hey, i'm not that drunk i can even stand on my hands if you want. look—" you're literally bending over in front of him, hands on the ground, and you're ready to do it, but he quickly grabs your waist, forcing you to straighten up. matt tried his hardest not to look at your ass and the way your short dress rode up. his pants suddenly start to grow tighter but he ignores it.

"you better not—"

with a giggle, you turn around to face him, the feelings of his hands sends a shiver down your spine. "i could easily do that."

"sure," he raises his eyebrow, the blush on his cheeks only growing because of the closeness. "i don't think i'd know what to do with a drunk and unconscious party queen on my hands, if you did that."

"right, okay." you bite down on your bottom plump lip, which doesn't go unnoticed by him. "but what would you do with a slighty tipsy and definitely conscious party queen on your hands, hm?"

his eyes sparkle with amusement, heart rate subtly increasing at your promixity. "well, that's a pretty open-ended question," he replies, his voice low and gentle. "depends on the party queen personality and how she's feeling."

oh, he's funny.

"and if the party queen is feeling perfectly fine and have the best personality ever?"

the air between you two suddenly feeling charged with an unexpected, but pleasant tension. matt could feel himself getting more and more worked up. he tried to be the gentleman that handed you the purse a few minutes ago, or gave you a cigarette and a lighter, but it was getting hard. especially now, when he realizes his hands are still on your waist and you don't seem to mind at all.

"oh, in that case i'd probably just try to keep up 'n hope her great personality doesn't find me too terribly boring."

"nah, i think she finds you pretty intriguing actually." you tilt your head to the side, eyes dropping to his lips before moving back up. oh, those lips.... "and if she wanted to show you just how bad?"

he swallows hard, "you mean, hypothetically... if she wanted to show me she's interested?"

"mhm, yeah. exactly what i mean," you lean in, giving him time to push you away, but he doesn't. oh, he would never. he wanted you so bad, knowing he's just one of hundreds of your simps, but it was the last thing on his mind right now. all he wanted is to feel your lips on his.

and he finally did.

closing the gap between you two, you kiss him softly, what he does too after a moment. his initial hesitation melting into reciprocation as your lips move against his. his hands, unsure at first, eventually move down to your hips, pulling you gently closer. your fingers tangling into his messy, soft hair, pushing him slightly against the wall, getting a hum in approval. matt starts relaxing against you, letting you set the pace and tone for your interaction. as you take your time, he finds himself growing more comfortable and excited. he would never think it would happen. with you out of all people.

the kiss starts getting more and more heated, you grow slightly impatient, feeling the ache between your legs starting to grow. you press your body closer to him, hand traveling up and down his chest, your tongues dancing together. once he feels how gently you bite his lip, a small whine leaves him, your mind spins and definitely not because of the amount of alcohol or weed you've consumed.

you break the kiss, both of you panting as you mutter against his lips, "come with me, yeah?" getting a weak nod in response, you're fast to make your way back into the crowded house, dragging matt behind you by his wrist.

his palms start to sweat as you take him upstairs and reach some empty room, pushing him inside. the noise of the party fading behind you two once you kick the door shut and attack his lips again.

matt is overwhelmed but in the best way possible. his senses are filled with your sweet scent, the tension growing in his pants with each second. his eagerness showing in his tentative exploration, but offset by an earnest enthusiasm. he lets out a soft sigh into the kiss, surrendering to your lead. he hits the bed and falls onto the mattress, you climbing on top of him, straddling his thighs. he gasps softly as your weight presses down on him in the most distracting and exhilarating way. his hands instinctively find their way to your hips again, gripping slightly as he tries to adjust to this new position.

breaking the kiss, you start trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, his head tilts back unconsciously, giving you better access to his skin. his whole body shivers at the delicate touches of your lips, a soft moan escaping him as you hit a particularly sensitive spot, sucking on it to intentionally mark him.

his reaction brings a smile to your face and you look up to see him in such a cute state. messy hair, cheeks reddish, his pink lips swollen from the make out as he lets out heavy breaths.

"look at you, pretty boy."

his eyelids flutter open, revealing pupils dilated with desire. matt touches the mark on his neck lightly, fingers tracing where you'd sucked. "that's..." he clears his throat, feeling his face flush even more. the way you look at him is both intimidating and incredibly hot.

"hm? you like it?"

"y-yeah, that's really... good," he admits.

you just couldn't help yourself, he was so majestic, really. the way he was clearly trying not to rush or throw himself at you, makes you want to give him all the pleasure in the world so he wouldn't be able to forget about this evening, no matter how hard he'd try.

"want more?"

his eyes darken slightly, voice hoarse with lust, "that wouldn't be really... gentleman of me, hm?"

you smile, finding him amusing. "oh, but i'm proposing this to you, not the other way around. so...?" you whisper against his lips, "how it's gonna be, baby?"

this time he captures your lips in a kiss, wanting to show you how much he wants— no, craves you, hoping this is enough of a response.

a wave of heat washes over you, hands traveling under his shirt which steals another whine from matt. you had never been so turned on before in such a short amount of time, automatically starting to move your hips and grind down against him, feeling how hard he was beneath you. pride overwhelms you at the feeling of how much he's affected by you, the want for him even bigger than before.

his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. he can feel you moving on his lap, the friction driving him crazy. your tongue explores his mouth, lips clicking against his. his hands shaky on your body from the desire he felt. "you can touch me, matt..." you pant against his plump lips, pressing your clothed, soaked core against his dick harder.

"y'feel so good..." his eyes are glassy with lust as he looks up at you. his chest is heaving, and he bites his lip, trying to compose himself when he finally allows his hands to explore your body.

"mhm, i can feel how bad you want me," you keep grinding against him, the friction causing you both to whimper. "is really cute.... and hot— you know?"

"please—" his eyes flutter shut from pleasure, your hands teasing him just above the waistband of his jeans. "what is it, baby?" you bite back a smile at his desperate expression.

"just... i need you please— can you..." his breath is coming in ragged gasps now, and he feels both embarrassed and completely exhilarated. his hips rise slightly to meet yours, a natural response to the overwhelming sensation. his body aches for more contact, more friction, more of you.

"can i what? c'mon, you gotta ask nicely if you want something." you're teasing, torturing him purposely, enjoying how adorable he gets when his shyness takes over. "look at me, matt."

blushing intensely, he opens his eyes and stammers out, "can you... i mean, would you... with your mouth?" he immediately looks mortified at his own boldness, his cheeks flaming red as he quickly adds, "sorry, i didn't mean to presume—"

"i think you did mean it though," you smile softly, licking your lips. his words and the image that just popped up in your head makes your pussy pulse. "how can i say no when you're being such a good boy for me?" you press kisses to his neck just as he whines again, your hands already working on his belt. his eyes watching as his jeans and boxers get pushed down his legs. he gasps as the cool air hits his exposed lower half, his body trembling slightly. his dick twitches as you kneel on the mattress between his legs, looking at him in awe. "just relax."

he nods quickly, trying to calm himself. his chest is rising and falling rapidly, hands fumble anxiously with the hem of his shirt unsure what to do with them. is not like he was inexperienced, he was in a relationship before, but having you, the popular party girl that everyone wanted, between his legs was definitely making him more nervous than he would usually be.

you put your hair up into a messy ponytail, his body immediately tensing up. he can feel the blood rushing to his cock, making it throb with anticipation. he tries to relax his legs, spreading them wider to give you better access. you stop just above his tip, looking up at him with a smile at the messy state he was already in, even if you didn't start yet. "gonna say a magic word?"

he swallows hard, his blush deepens, "please."

his eyes dart between your face and his hard, leaking with precum dick, hardly believing this is really happening. but it feels real, when you give him a kitty lick before starting to suck on his tip. a strangled moan escapes matt's lips, his hips involuntarily twitching upwards. the sensation is electric, his hands fist in the sheets beneath him, grasping desperately for some form of anchor. "o-oh, fuck—"

your tongue is swirling around his tip teasingly, before you take him deeper, his eyes roll back in his head, breath catching in his throat. he can feel every ridge and curve of your mouth, the wet heat almost more than he can bear. a shaky whimper escapes him, hands slide up to tangle in your hair, gripping tightly as he fights the urge to buck his hips forward.

he was so big, the choking sounds echoing in the room, saliva dripping down your chin. hollowing your cheeks, you start bobbing your head up and down, nose brushing against his pelvis. "s-shit.... feels so good— mmmm, fu—ckkk--" his entire body shudders, he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, completely captivated by the sight. the sounds alone are enough to make him dizzy with desire. his breathing becomes more ragged, mingling with the wet sounds of your mouth. "oh god..." he whimpers. you're breathing through your nose, focusing on his tip again, your hand working on the rest of him. the sensation combined with your mouth is incredible, almost too much to process. matt bites his lip hard, suppressing a loud moan, but it still escapes as more of a choked groan. "fuck, please—"

he was completely out of it, a big whining mess, his hips uncontrollably lifting upwards, his tip hitting the back of your throat. his toes curl as he feels the mounting pressure, his entire body tingling with exquisite tension while you suck on his dick like on a lollipop, being all messy with it, gagging every now and then. panting heavily, he tugs gently at your hair, "w-wait, m'gonna.... m'so close, wait—" you hum in approval, wanting to taste him on your tongue. it sends vibrations through him, another whimper escaping him. you speed up your movements, matt automatically starts thrusting up into your mouth as his orgasm approaches, "f-fuck, sorry, i.... i can't— shittt, gonna cum— can i... oh—"

he's lost at this point, his head threw back, a loud, unrestrained moan ripping from his throat as you resume your actions. his hips lift off the bed, pressing himself deeper into your mouth, getting another moan from you. the sight was hypnotizing, his flushed features, the way he tried to muffle his moans by chewing on his bottom lip. you were dripping, clenching around nothing just from watching him.

with a choked cry, his entire body convulses as he finds his release, pulse after pulse of ecstasy flooding through him. his fingers fist so tightly in your hair that he's vaguely aware it might hurt, but he can't seem to loosen his grip. you whimper around him, tasting him on your tongue and swallowing everything. your tongue swirl around his sensitive tip one more time before pulling out with a wet pop. his vision blurs, heart pounding in his chest. he lets go off your hair, your eyes meeting his, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. damn.

his face flushed with heat as he smiles, "holy fuck."

"holy fuck indeed," you lick your lips, the sight so intimate and erotic for him that he feels his spent dick twitch in response. "that was, like, amazing—" he mutters, still struggling to find his voice.

you chuckle, moving so now you were on top of him again, hands on each side of his head. "what a shame that we met so late," you say, running your hand through his hair, a shiver going down his spine.

"i was supposed to leave at midnight," he admits. your eyebrow raises, "oh really?" he nods, "yeah, not a fan of parties."

"well... i'm glad you didn't have the chance to leave then."

"me too." he pulls you into another desperate kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, getting a hum in surprise. he was clearly eager for more. your fast to roll your dress up around your waist, grabbing his hand and directing it between your legs. when he feels how soaked your panties were, he can't help but whimper again. "feel it, baby?" you break the kiss, looking at him, his eyes darken with lust. "that's allll because of you."

his gaze travels over your body, taking in the curves he's only ever imagined. he swallows hard, his voice hoarse with need. "please, i need you..."

"you're so cute when you beg," you smile biting down on your plump lip. removing your underwear, you position yourself just above his tip, letting him feel the wet warmth, teasing him mercilessly. matt whines softly, his body tensing with the need to thrust into you and finally feel you. "what was that, hm? tell me what you want, matt."

"need you... to ride me— please—"

"need me, hm? and how bad?"

he whines again, louder this time, his hips bucking slightly in an attempt to get him inside you. "so bad," he pants, his voice barely recognizable in his desperation. "please, please, please..." he chants, his voice cracking with need.

"gooood boy," you praise, his words getting you even wetter. wrapping your hand around his cock, you give him a few strokes before slowly sinking down on him. "begging so pretty— f-fuck...." the sudden feeling of your warm, tight pussy enveloping his aching dick is almost too much for matt to handle. he throws his head back, a loud, wordless whimper tearing from his throat as he's sheathed inside you, a moan leaving your lips as well at his reaction. "shit, you're so big—" you stay still to adjust, lifting your dress higher to be more comfortable. you feel his dick twitching inside you after your words. amused written all over your face when you look at him, "you like it, hm? who would've know you're so naughty...."

matt's hands tremble as they grip your hips, trying desperately to hold back the urge to grind into you. his breath comes in short, sharp bursts as he savors the exquisite tightness gripping him.

"feels good?" you slowly start moving, he nods his head weakly, words caught in his throat as he tries to speak around the lump formed by his swallowed moan. "mmm, holy shit, matt—" his cock is buried so deeply inside you that it makes you see stars for a moment. you crave more of him, so you start speeding up the pace.

"so... good..." he manages to rasp out, his eyes rolling back briefly before snapping forward to lock onto yours again. "you're...too much..."

"yeah? want me to stop?" you mock him a little bit, knowing that's the last thing he wants.

he shakes his head frantically, a sheepish grin spreading across his flushed face. "no, no...don't stop. i meant...fuck, you're just so tight— fuckkk, feels incredible." he bucks his hips slightly, emphasizing his enthusiasm, his nails dig into your hips, his body tensing as he tries to pull you down further onto him.

"you're doing perfect for me, baby—" you moan out, putting one hand on his chest as you start moving your hips harder, your attention drawn to his tattoos. the sight of his arm causes you to painfully clench around him, your pussy gripping him like a vice. he hisses at the feeling, it drives him wild. "shit, just like that—"

you both aren't able to hold back your moans, letting them spill out one after another. each thrust pushes you both into ecstasy, your hand on his chest the only thing anchoring him to reality. matt's hands slide up your sides, then down to your thighs, marveling the soft skin beneath his fingers.

matt notices the way your eyes are locked onto his tattoos and it makes his dick throb even harder inside you. "god, matt— mmhpp, oh my...." you lean forward, needing some balance as your legs start growing tired, your hands on each side of his head. he reaches up to your waist, guiding your movements as he lifts his hips to meet each thrust. "f-fuck— you're so beautiful..."

your eyebrows knitted together in pleasure, eyes rolling back as you feel your orgasm approaching. he can feel it as well, which pushes him over the edge too. "gonna cum for me, pretty boy?" you choke out, looking down at him through half-open eyes.

"mhmm, fuck—" he pants, his own face contorted with pleasure. he sees the concentration on your face, the beads of sweat forming on your collarbone. he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto him even harder. "s-so close... shiiit—"

"me too," you whine into his ear. "fuck..." his grip tightens on your waist as his release builds. his movements become more urgent, more desperate. "tell me... mm— tell me how you want it, sweetheart—" he knows he won't last much longer, not with how perfectly you're stretching around him.

"inside me—"

"y-yeah?" his voice breaking as he feels you clench around him again. "you want me to fill you up?"

"mhmmm—" you moan just as he whimpers again, what pushes you into a state of bliss, euphoria consumes you as your orgasm crashes down over you, your hips stuttering.

once he feels you creaming around him, and the pretty — mesmerizing moans, oh he's too far gone. matt's control snaps, he buries himself as deep as possible inside you, his hips jerking as he unleashes a torrent of cum deep within your spasming pussy. one last moan leaves him, his vision blurring as his release seems to go on forever. "fuckkkk—"

after you both ride out your orgasms, your hips come to a stop, his hands splaying out against your lower back as he pulls you flush against him. matt can feel his release slowly leaking out of you and dripping down his thighs. your breath against his neck tickles his skin.

"oh my god," he breathes out, making you chuckle and you lift up your head, seeing his flushed face. so cute. "made me see fuckin' stars, holy shit."

you laugh again, getting off to lay down beside him, head on matt's shoulder, his heart skips a beat at that. "you're funny," you say.

he wraps his hand around your waist again, not really ready to let go yet. "m'serious."

"okay, mr serious," you roll your eyes. "doesn't mean you aren't funny. and still a gentleman."

"getting into your pants before first date isn't really gentleman of me," he smiles shyly as you look up at him.

"i got into your pants," you correct him. "you gonna get into mine after that first date."

"there's gonna be one?"

"oh, definitely."

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck @jocelyncsblog @sophand4n4 @giannalovessturniolo @alesturniolos @ilovenmcs

[fierceawakening]

I really, really would like anyone and everyone who says “there are other wizard books” to read this.

If you want to judge someone for buying something because of its creator’s politics, go right ahead. If you want to judge someone for continuing to like something they would never again buy, please pay less attention to the contents of other people’s heads and more attention to the contents of your own.

(And if you ever say both “thoughtcrime isn’t real” and “find other books?” Stop talking forever.)

I hate when an artist gets exposed for being a bad person and people start the narrative “why would you even want to listen to their shitty music” when are we going to be freed from the idea that only good people create good art and bad people create bad art. It just makes it harder for these types of people to be exposed because now you got people thinking “how is this possible, his music is so good!”

[misayani]

MAGNETIC — SQUID GAME WOMEN + THANOS AND YOU BEING THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF THEM HCS

◜ featuring ... kang mi-na (player 196), no eul (guard 011), se-mi (player 380), jun-hee (player 222), hyun-ju (player 120), young-mi (player 195), + thanos (player 230)

𔗨 author's note — IM FUCKING BAAAAAAAAACKKKK RAWGHHRRR !!!!!! writing this had me SWEATING considering the lack of information of them in the show. anddd im closing the requests for now. id like to work on the current requests in my inbox before i open it again ♡ [lowercase intended]

mi na —

- at first you were hesitant to confess your feelings to her because why  would she want to be with someone like you?

- and then you kept avoiding her and denying your feelings to avoid getting hurt 

- then, life surprises you, she kissed you on the night she took you out for a 'girlFRIEND date'

- AND THEN BAM !!! dating

- she's feisty and confident, you're gentle and shy

- mi-na is the type to be sassy and bitchy to everyone and then when it comes to you she turns into a total softie

- "thanos, i swear if you don't shut the fuck up—" "mi-na?" "yes honey?"

- SHE LOVES CALLING YOU SWEET NICKNAMES JUST TO SEE YOU MELT

- you'd think mi-na likes to be treated like a princess and then it turns out that she's the one treating YOU like a princess

- when you're speaking and someone completely cuts you off, without a second thought, she'll speak up

- "my girlfriend is speaking??"

- when someone's rude to you, she'll handle it for you

- "excuse me? watch your words when you're talking to her."

- she doesn't do this all the time though

- she wants you to learn how to speak up for yourself 

- but she definitely doesn't let it pass when someone crosses the line

- there was this one time where mi-na legit got into a catfight after someone humiliated you in front of many people

- she got humiliated in front of the people too but she DIDNT feel humiliated at all

- the bitch just messed with her girlfriend, and she just stepped up for you. what's humiliating about that?

- (outside squid game) let's say thanos is a mutual close friend you both have

- whenever he pisses her off, he immediately runs to you for defense since mi-na has a soft spot for you

- overall, mi-na likes taking care of you and you're gentle to her sooo it's a win-win for the both of you !!!

- she loves her shy gf so much, it makes her all mushy and softie

no eul —

- she's hard, you're soft

- oops i may have worded that wrong

- GRUMPY X SUNSHINE 

- you always wake her up with kisses and she'll open her eyes to the sight of you smiling at her

- then she'll complain, grumbling about your "unreasonable" optimism. but she literally lets you kiss her the whole time anyways !!

- no-eul constantly furrows her eyebrows at your cheery attitude as if she was judging you. BUT DEEP DEEP DOWN, her heart swells for you

- she might be grumpy through words, but it's the actions that speak louder

- if someone's mean to HER sunshine, expect their face to get fucked up

- her love language is acts of service btw!!!!

- you will never ever get to hold a door ever again when you're with her cs she'll always open them for you

- AND SHE LOVES GIVING YOU 'JUST BECAUSE' GIFTS

- "here." she hands you a boquet of sunflowers with A CUTE LITTLE NOTE ON THE SIDE THAT SAYS I LOVE YOU, "awhh thank you! but, what's the occasion?" and then she just shrugs

- back then, whenever the two of you got into an argument, a bad trait she used to do is to shut you out. while you, on the other hand, always wanted to talk things through and find solutions 

- after a few attempts, you eventually break her walls down and then she finally lets you in

- "...i'm sorry" "it's okay! we're in this together, 'kay?" 

- she feels so bad because what if you're just trying to put up with her 

- and then that worry completely washes away when she feels that you're actually genuine. 

- you don't just say sweet shit, you act them out.

- and she'll forever be thankful for you

- you're the reason why she wakes up everyday, you're the reason why she takes care of herself, you're the reason why she learned to love herself

se mi —

- this woman has a sharp tongue

- which can definitely be used in multiple ways but mostly for saying sarcastic remarks

- (in the games) she's expressive but then she's emotionally guarded at the same time. she won't be scared to speak her mind but she rarely shows her expressions physically

- oh gosh. her and her fucked up humor

- others may think she never takes shit seriously, but it's actually THEM she's not taking seriously

- she absolutely doesn't like openly-vulnerable people. it's not anything personal, she just thinks that it's stupid to show emotions like that in a death game like this where anyone could literally take advantage of you.

- and then here comes you, kind and empathetic

- you're the type to put others first before you, and she hates that fact, but not you

- you're expressive with your feelings also, but instead of being like her, who masks it perfectly with her sarcastic exterior, you're genuine.

- you believe that showing real emotions is a way to connect with people

- se-mi had observed you during the six-legged pentathlon. it amuses her seeing you work well with your team.

- she fucking hates the fact that you're just so kind and open to every one, not even thinking twice to help others.

- (outside squid game) while se-mi sees the world as harsh and unforgiving, you always tell her about the bright side and hope and some happy shit. and she didn't like that

- she didn't like how you're actually starting to make her see even just the tad bit good in some things

- and then the next thing she knows is that she literally starts to think about you in every single fucking thing

- she sees sunlight, she thinks of you. she sees flowers, she thinks of you. she sees butterflies, she thinks of you. man, even whenever she buys her favourite cherry ice cream, somehow the ice cream legit reminds her of you. because apparently, to her, ice cream gives off positive vibes ????? 

- and positive vibes are YOU !!

- over time, she may not admit it but she definitely cannot deny that she's starting to soften under your influence

- and who knows? maybe she's starting to see that kindness isn't always a weakness. 

jun hee —

- she's an introvert, you're an extrovert. need i say more

- junhee mostly keeps to herself, but unlike no-eul, she isn't totally closed-off

- she's quiet and won't react unless needed

- you on the other hand, reacts to everyfuckingthing

- somebody's hand gets too close to her belly? "GET AWAY!"

- you even audibly gasp when someone gives her a dirty stare

- (outside squid game) when jun-hee gets excited about something, she'll just smile. but it immediately drops as soon as she turns her head to look at you who almost fell on the floor, face first, because of jumping around like crazy.

- it amazes her a lot how you make it look easy to just start a conversation with a complete stranger

- now whenever you make friends, she also makes new friends, because you always introduce your girlfriend to them !! <3

- between the two of you, you're the one who usually initiates physical touch

- just simple and cute hugs here and there, sometimes kisses, sometimes more than kisses

- she's the type to show her love to you through simple gestures like making you your favorite tea, playing your favorite song on the TV, writing you notes before she goes out while you're still sleeping (awwhdjsjssk)

- and then you're the type to express your feelings VERY LOUDLY

- telling her "i love yous" whenever you always get the chance to which is like every minute—but you mean every single one everytime—, giving her tight hugs, prepping soft kisses on her face, demanding her to give you cuddles.

- everything needs balance, so jun-hee learned to socialize more and have fun while you learned to be more mindful whenever she needs her own quiet time

hyun ju —

- hyun-ju tends to be cool-headed and calm in most scenarios, while you are always on your toes and stressed and just so energetic overall

- hyun-ju shows love in subtle ways, like doing your hair or giving you quick pecks on the cheek ♡

- she never fails to notice it when you're stressed. she'd grab your hand and start massaging it softly

- whenever your friends invite you to a night out, you always ask them if you could bring hyun-ju !!!!

- it's simple: they refuse, you aren't going. if they say yes, then be prepared to have one of the best nights out in your lives BECAUSE hyun-ju is fun!!!! hello ? being an introvert does not mean you're not any fun

- hyun-ju would literally chug up every drink your friends give her

- and then theres you who's worried as fuck because what if she vomits???? and you HATE vomit, eugh !!

- the next morning comes and then hangover finally hits her

- you, being a good girlfriend, always brings her water and some pills to help her with the headache

- 'hyun-ju drink this' 'hyun-ju drink that' which results to her needing to pee like every 5 minutes

- she calms you down, telling you that she's fine and all she needs is you beside her

- literally just your presence

- and then despite having a headache, she would ask you to yap for her, she just loves hearing your voice

- overall, hyun-ju is forever thankful for you. she appreciates the fact that you're always alert about things but she also reminds you to let loose sometimes.

young mi —

- she's shy, you're not

- you're so mean for always teasing the poor girl

- but you can't help it, not when you always catch her staring at you

- "do you need anything? or do you just need me?" 

- give her a damn break

- not a day goes by without you hugging the hell out of her

- "you're so flufffyyyyyy babyy" "...thank you?.." 

- she always seeks comfort in you, since you're the one who keeps things exciting

- in public, young-mi doesn't speak up much, so you speak for her when needed

- "excuse me, you got her food wrong." "it's fine i swear!!"

- it's surprising but she's actually the one who initiates affection most of the time, she'd just shyly do it

- during arguments, she might struggle to express her feelings sometimes through words, and even when you're supposed to be mad at her, you still try to keep your calm and help her speak for herself

- it always ends up with the both of you apologizing to each other. you would never let your girlfriend sleep with a heavy heart, never.

- sometimes you'd surprise her with cute gifts like small trinkets or cute plushies !!! 

- as time goes by, young-mi slowly learns to speak up for herself, because, of course, you're not always going to be by her side. 

thanos — 

- PLAYFUL BF + SERIOUS GF

- he thinks you have such a hot resting bitch face

- LIKE HE'D LITERALLY INTERNALLY SQUEAL LIKE A HIGH SCHOOLER

- babygirl bf + girlboss gf <3

- you're never scared to speak up for yourself. thanos insists on punching anyone who does you wrong but you assure him that you're fully capable of doing that yourself

- "THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND BRO!!"

- literally brags you to nam-gyu and talks about you almost all the time

- nam-gyu's fucking tired of it.

- people thinks this man fears no one?? he's fucking scared of YOU

- FOLDS WHEN U CALL HIM BY HIS FULL GOVERNMENT NAME

- "cmon baby, give thanos a kiss." "choi su-bong." "what:(("

- but when nam-gyu learns about his full name and starts teasing him about it and calling him that:

- "hey, only she's allowed to call me that. mind your business." "dang okay bro" 

- literally goes crazy when he texts you something and you reply with an "ok."

- "the fuck did i do nowww"

- he internally cheers when you're on your period because that'll mean you'll ask him for kisses and hugs

- "baby, let's cuddle please" "oh look at what we have here now—" "nevermind." "NO! yes, yes, let's cuddle"

- to others, he's tough and mighty but when it comes to you, he submits

- LMAO when he tries to call you by your full name to try and reverse the roles, you just give him a weird look and that made him want to bury himself 6 feet under.

- he's very very clingy, would literally sulk when you don't give him a goodbye kiss before you leave the house 

- when you're in a bad mood, he tries his best to cheer you up, like rapping random sweet shit to you or attempting to dance in front of you. keyword: attempting

- and as soon as he saw that small smile form on your face, he almost felt like everything went slow motion

- you're so gorgeous, he's down bad for you

- but he genuinely feels happy once he knows that you're fine now because of him !!

- he's so silly :3

@misayani

𝓜isa mentions — @joc3lynx @mymel1008 @justredsw @wlvlurvsfimmia @azansstuff @dvrk-hoon @yersang-dreams

[burningembers91]

Powder Blue Dress - Cho Hyun-Ju x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: For the first time, Cho Hyun-Ju is living the life she had always wanted. But when you move into her apartment block, will she allow herself to open up?

A/N: This is my first time writing for a transgender character, and I really hope I've done her justice. I adored her character is Squid Game

Warnings: mentions of transphobia, low self-esteem

Cho Hyun-Ju had always known she was different. She couldn’t precisely pinpoint when exactly, but she’d always had an inkling that wasn’t like her family or friends. She’d tried hard to make a life for herself, to pretend that she was happy in a body that felt completely alien to her. She tried to build relationships, shape her career and mould herself into something her family would be proud of. But the more time that passed, the more she realised that she was living a lie. This male body, it didn’t suit her, it wasn’t who she was on the inside. She was tired of looking in the mirror and not recognising the person that stared back, she was tired of people not understanding how uncomfortable she felt in her own skin.

The day she told her family she wanted to transition from male to female was a day she would never forget. There was so much anger, so much shouting. She was ejected from her parent’s house immediately and told in no uncertain terms to never darken their doorway again. She had thought her friends would be a little more understanding, but they too started to distance themselves. They called and texted less, stopped inviting her out with them. She didn’t expect much from her work and wasn’t surprised when they fired her after she told them about her dreams of transitioning into the woman she’d always known she was. she went from being surrounded by a network of family and friends to being utterly alone in the space of three weeks. Hyun-Ju packed up and moved to a small apartment on the other side of the city. She put her past out of her mind and chose to look forward instead. She grew her hair, started experimenting with makeup. She took a job in a warehouse, picking up extra shifts whenever she could to bolster up her savings into order to pay for top surgery and the hormonal medication she needed. It had been tough, and she’d taken out several loans she couldn’t afford, but the debt was worth to finally be able to look in the mirror and recognise the woman she saw smiling back.

Most days were still a challenge; people loved to stare. She understood why though, she was a 6ft female in a dress who still had a six o’clock shadow. Hyun-Ju ignored the stares and the jeers, but life was so lonely now. She found the courage to go and shop in a boutique she’d passed a few times, buying herself a few dresses and a pair of ballet flats. She was desperate to showcase her more feminine look, but where was she supposed to go when everyone was pretending she no longer existed?

She ran into you in the lobby of the apartment block one day, and her world was forever altered. “Cute dress!” you exclaimed, admiring the powder blue cotton with lace details. “It’s absolutely stunning!” Hyun-Ju felt herself blush, and her smile was so wide it made her jaw ache. No one had ever complimented her style, not before or since her transition. She wanted to ask you out for coffee, but something stopped her. Just because a person likes your clothing, it doesn’t mean they like you. But she kept running into you, and every time she did you made her blush and smile all over again. It was you who finally made the first move, inviting her out for cocktails. You were new to Seoul, and the pretty girl in the powder blue dress made your heart sing.

The two of you became inseparable, and Hyun-Ju found herself able to open up to someone for the first time in her life. You were a great listener, and you never once made her feel invalidated or wrong. You made her laugh, and the two of you spent hours together talking about everything and nothing. You were the greatest friend Hyun-Ju had ever known, and she slowly found herself wishing you could be more. But you were the beautiful girl with the sparkle in her eye and the confidence of Beyonce, and she was still scared that you’d turn her down, that she wouldn’t be enough for you.

“You have a beautiful smile,” you told her one evening, after you’d spent the night watching a comedy on Netflix and eating your bodyweight in chocolate. Hyun-Ju didn’t meet your eye as she thanked you, and you wished she could see herself the way you did. She was funny, and kind and so beautiful to you. You wanted to tell her all this, but you were terrified of pushing her away. She’d been so open and honest with you, and you didn’t want her to think you were taking advantage of her.

As she said goodnight to you, and headed back to her own apartment, Hyun-Ju studied her smile in the mirror. She wished she could see what you did, and she wished she could tell you how much you meant to her. But a lifetime of hiding your true feelings had left its mark on her. There was still so much fear and anxiety of opening up. Sure, she’d told you about her past and her transition journey but opening up to someone romantically was something she hadn’t done before. She wasn’t even sure how you felt, and she could have the situation completely wrong.

As she climbed into bed that night, she thought of you. She thought of your melodic laugh, your perfect sense of humour. She thought about the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way your floral perfume wrapped her in the sweetest of hugs. She wondered how it would feel to kiss you, to have you run your hand through her hair. As she looked up at the stars shining over the city, she had no idea you were thinking of her as well.

[diorstarkey]

Good Graces | 01

Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader | series masterlist.

summary; Being the son of the President of the United States came with its fair share of responsibilities, but none as infuriating as this. To secure his father's re-election, Rafe Cameron was forced to spend weeks under the same roof as the Princess of England. Diplomacy, they called it. Torture, he thought. The last thing he needed was a spoiled royal ruining his summer. But between gala events, unexpected conversations, and stolen glances, Rafe realized the line between hate and attraction was thinner than he'd ever imagined.

warnings; no smut. reader is two years younger than rafe. english is not my first language. the images are for the aesthetic. 'forced marriage au' by @rafecameronssl4t inspired<3

author's note; this is my first series!!! hope you liked it, reblogs and comments are appreciated<3

The presidential ballroom was impeccably decorated, a display of luxury that Rafe found unnecessary and pretentious. He leaned against one of the high columns, watching the political and royal elite move like chess pieces on a board. Ward has talking to the King, your father, about something he wasn't paying attention and didn't bother to pretend to care about.

The ride over had been torturous enough. For the thousandth time, Ward lectured him on how to behave in front of the Royal Family, reminding him—again— not to embarrass him in front of "the most powerful allies we could ever have."

Now, as he stood there, arms crossed and mind elsewhere, he saw you enter to the ballroom. Your entrance was impossible to ignore, your dress shimmering as if the stars themselves had been woven into it. Everything about you was poised, practiced and perfect, from the tilt of your chin to the way you greeted the room with that ever–diplomatic smile.

When your gaze finally met his, your expression shifted slightly, and an eyebrow arched. You approached with purpose, the polite smile on your face as cold as the champagne being served.

"You should bow", you said, your British accent cutting through the noise around them.

Rafe didn't move, instead crossing his arms tighter. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm royalty" you replied matter-of-factly, through your smile remained polite.

"And I'm the President's son" Rafe shot back, his tone dry. "I'd say that makes us even, wouldn't you?"

Your smile tightened ever so slightly, but you didn’t back down. “Are you always this charming, or is it just when you’re forced to interact with people far more important than you?”

"Only when those people are wearing a crown and an attitude." he countered, smirking.

Before you could retort, a voice interrupted.

“Ah, there you are, Rafe!” Ward’s tone was overly cheerful, drawing both your attention. “Why don’t you and the Princess take a photo together? A perfect opportunity for the press, don’t you think?”

You exchanged a quick, reluctant glance with Rafe, silently agreeing on one thing for the first time: this was going to be a long night.

Rage groaned internally, but this well-practiced fake smile was already in place. He extended an arm toward you in mock politeness, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass. "After you, Your Highness. Don't want to break royal protocol now, don't we?"

You rolled your eyes, but your own diplomatic farcade never faltered. "How thoughtful of you, Mr. Cameron."

As you both moved toward the photo backdrop, flashes from cameras already began to light up the room. Rafe leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “Smile big, Princess. The world’s watching.”

“I'd rather choke and believe me,” you replied through gritted teeth, “I’ve been smiling through worse company than yours.”

The photographer barked instructions as if posing next to someone you couldn’t stand wasn’t awkward enough. “Closer, please! Let’s see some warmth!”

Rafe, ever the troublemaker, slipped an arm lightly around your waist. “Anything for the press,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You stiffened at the gesture, your eyes shooting daggers at him. “Get your hand off me before I make you regret it,” you hissed quietly, though your face maintained an air of perfect grace for the cameras.

“Relax,” Rafe replied, his grin widening. “I’m just playing the role your family paid for.”

“Paid for?” you echoed, your smile faltering for just a fraction of a second.

“Sure. Isn’t that what this is? A transaction? You play nice with us so my dad looks good, and in return, we keep your little kingdom relevant.”

Your eyes narrowed dangerously, and for a moment, you wondered if anyone would notice if you stabbed him with your heel. “Your arrogance is truly astonishing.”

“And your entitlement is truly exhausting,” Rafe shot back, his voice just low enough to keep your verbal sparring private.

“Perfect!” the photographer called out, breaking the tension. “You two have such natural chemistry. Just lovely.”

You stepped away from Rafe the second it was socially acceptable, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if even proximity to him had somehow wrinkled it.

“I need a drink,” you muttered under your breath.

“Make it a double,” Rafe quipped, already heading toward the bar.

A few minutes later, you found yourself stationed next to Rafe at a small table as your families chatted about alliances, trade agreements, and other topics that seemed infinitely dull. You weren’t listening, of course. You were too busy internally debating whether it was worth the scandal to excuse yourself entirely.

Rafe, meanwhile, was stirring the ice in his glass with a look that screamed disinterest. His posture was casual, legs stretched out slightly under the table as if he were deliberately trying to take up as much space as possible.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Immensely,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I especially enjoy sitting through conversations about ‘strengthening ties’ and ‘mutual benefits.’ Thrilling stuff, really.”

“Perhaps if you paid attention, you’d learn something,” you countered, keeping your voice neutral as possible.

“Perhaps if I wanted to listen to lectures, I’d go back to college,” he shot back.

You arched a brow. “Ah, yes. How could I forget? The prodigal son of the President, gracing the Ivy League with his presence. Did you even finish?”

Rafe’s smirk returned, though this time it was edged with something more genuine. “Touché, Princess. I did, actually. But I guess the finer details of my resume didn’t make it across the Atlantic.”

“Oh, I’m sure the tabloids covered it thoroughly,” you said. “Right next to your exploits at frat parties and your extensive collection of speeding tickets.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve done your homework. Impressive.”

“Unlike you,” you shot back, taking a sip of your champagne.

“Touché again,” he said, tipping his glass toward you in mock admiration. “You’re sharp. I’ll give you that.”

The conversation, sharp and biting as it was, didn’t go unnoticed. Across the room, Ward exchanged a glance with the King, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, Is this really going to work?

DIORSTARKEY — do not plagiarize, translate or copy my work.

[moltenapian]

I think I ought to add to this. More beneath the cutoff, as is tradition

BDSM is definitely not for everyone. In fact, it's probably not for most people. Definitely not for most people. If you ever want to engage in that sort of thing safely, it's something you do with a trusted partner you *know* respects your boundaries, both in your bedroom and otherwise.

Just like engineering, something I'm well familiar with, safety culture is the most important thing by far. Doing your research, being aware of *all* the risks, and being properly prepared before any scene is essential. Never get even close to anything which could cause permanent or severe damage. A sore body the next day is fine, an infection or brain damage isn't.

Know what you're expecting from something like this, and know what your partner wants too. Talk about everything that you want to do during the scene, and don't ever, *ever* do something that wasn't agreed upon. Being on the same page in terms of expectations and goals is pretty essential.

One important thing is not to use BDSM or any other single coping mechanism as your only way to abate those feelings of wanting to self harm. First resort should always be something non destructive, but this can be occasionally be supplemented with something more intense, like BDSM, as a treat. Treating this kind of thing as a little reward instead of a main coping mechanism should work wonders to prevent spiraling, as I saw mentioned in some other comments.

And finally, safewords are final, no negotiations. I use the color system, and I recommend it. Trying to get someone to use their safeword should *never* be a goal. In a good scene, no one should have to safeword out.

Anyways, I'm going to make a comparison to engineering again, because I'm a very passionate aircraft test engineer for work who occasionally does some kinky stuff on the side and has a Brand to maintain smh.

Like a lot of engineering, hobbyist electronics, or anything else, BDSM and kink can be *very* dangerous. However, instead of electrons and mechanics, which follow predictable rules, this kind of thing always involves another person, making it even more precarious. Doesn't help that most people's ideas of kink are wildly dangerous and unhealthy, especially people who only know abt kink from porn (don't get me started on how dangerous and awful porn is for this kind of thing oh my goddddd).

But if you're doing it safely, with someone who has proven that you can trust them, it can be an incredibly worthwhile activity if you're the kind of person who would benefit from such a thing.

Anyways, I've yapped on this subject enough. It's late and I have some opinions on it yknow. So it goes

not me printing and framing this shit

[itsnesss]

hii, i already love your works sm and i was wondering if i could request a jun-ho fic where him and fem!reader search his brother and they can’t keep their hands off of each other? ;) and one day after reader teases jun-ho too much he just fucks her into the bathroom? i’m so sorry if that sounded weird 😭

love ya <333

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, explicit content, tension-filled interactions, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, slight power dynamics

word count | 2.5 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The search for his brother has become more than a mission. It has stopped being just a matter of finding him. Every minute by his side, every stolen glance, every shared sigh... makes you forget everything else. The obsession with finding him has given way to a palpable tension between you and Jun-ho. At every corner, every place where they stop, their hands meet by accident, their bodies brush against each other as if it were inevitable. As if there were something beyond the search, something you can't control.

On one of those long and frustrating nights. They had followed a lead about Jun-ho's brother that had taken them to a small town, but the contact never showed up. They ended up in a rundown motel, sharing a room because the budget couldn't stretch any further.

You had tried to sleep, but between the noise of the old fan and the feeling of Jun-ho just a couple of meters away, it was impossible. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, reviewing some papers under the dim light of the bedside lamp, frowning as always.

"You should rest," you said from your bed, your voice heavy with sleep and annoyance. Keep staring at it won't make your brother magically appear.

Jun-ho looked up, clearly irritated, but also a bit tired.

"I can't".

You got up, leaning against the headboard of the bed, crossing your arms.

"You're such a stubborn one, you know?" you joked, although there was some truth in your words. "You always want to carry everything on your own".

"And you always have something to say, don't you?" he replied, his tone sharp but without real anger.

The conversation continued for a while, small jibes that gradually eased the day's tension. But as they talked, the atmosphere changed. There was something different in the way he looked at you that night, something beyond fatigue or worry.

When you stood up to approach his side, intending to snatch the papers from his hands to force him to rest, his fingers brushed against yours. It was a brief, accidental contact, but the heat it generated made both of them freeze, looking at each other in silence.

"What?" you asked, your voice softer, almost a whisper.

He didn't respond. Instead, he set the papers aside and leaned towards you. The moment was so unexpected that you didn't have time to think. His lips met yours, soft at first, as if he were tasting something he had longed for too long. But the kiss soon became more intense, more needy.

His hands moved up your arms, then to your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't resist. On the contrary, your fingers tangled in his hair as the heat in your chest intensified. You were kneeling in front of him, and you felt his heavy breath against your lips when they barely separated for a moment.

"This isn't right," he murmured, though he made no effort to move away.

"Then stop doing it," you replied, challenging him, and kissed him again, losing yourself in the way his body molded to yours.

That night didn't go beyond that. Although his hands roamed your back, your legs, and his lips left a burning trail on your neck, both stopped before crossing a line they knew would complicate everything. But after that, nothing was ever the same again. The casual touches felt more charged, the glances lingered too long, and the desire between you kept growing.

Jun-ho has never been so straightforward, but you know he is as caught up in this tightrope as you are. The nights spent reviewing clues become an excuse to be close, too close, as the hours fade away and the only thing left between you is unresolved desire.

Today is no different. You are in his apartment, a room cluttered with the mountains of papers they have accumulated during the search, and a constant feeling of discomfort that neither of you can ignore. The brush of his hands as he hands you a cup of coffee, the gentle touch of his fingers as he passes you a photo... everything feels magnified.

"What?" Jun-ho asks, raising an eyebrow when you stare for a second longer than necessary. As if you were evaluating every detail of him, every little gesture that only intensifies what you already know.

"Nothing". You shrug, but the mocking smile that forms on your lips says the exact opposite. There's something about him that makes you feel... powerful. As if you could play with him, put him to the test.

"Don't look at me like that."His voice is deeper than it should be, and his gaze darkens, as if he were waiting for one more provocation. And you know it. You know you did it on purpose.

You've seen him hesitate before, his self-control always on the edge, but this time, you can't help it. You know that what is happening between you is more than just a simple attraction. It's a whirlwind of emotions, of confusion, and above all, of something neither of you can ignore.

You don't stop, and neither does he. The tension remains constant, growing as time passes. The brush of his body near yours while you search for more clues sends shivers down your spine, but you can't pull away. You can't stop looking for an excuse to be near him.

Jun-ho walks back and forth, reviewing papers and murmuring something about clues and possible locations. You see him so serious, so engrossed in his detective role, that you can't resist making a comment to annoy him.

"Are you always this intense?" you ask, resting your chin on your hand.

He stops and glances at you sideways, bewildered.

"What do you mean?"

You smile, innocent but with a touch of mischief.

You know, all that frowning, the rigid posture, the constant "I'm solving an important case" face. I wonder if you ever relax... or if you look the same when you're, you know, at other times.

The insinuation in your voice is impossible to ignore. His eyes narrow, and you see his jaw tighten.

"In other times?" he repeats, clearly caught between confusion and challenge.

You shrug, feigning innocence.

"You know, more... private moments. Are you just as intense or do you follow a whole procedure?"

His reaction is immediate. He leaves the papers on the table and walks towards you with determined steps. Before you can get up, he leans over you, his hands resting on either side of your body.

"Do you want to find out?"

You are left speechless, but he doesn't give you time to respond. In a swift motion, he grabs your wrist and takes you to the bathroom.

The feeling of having him so close, his body pressed against yours, gives you goosebumps. The desire you had contained for so long bursts forth in a wave of need.

"Is this private?" he asks, his lips brushing against yours as he unbuttons his shirt.

"Yes," you affirm, your breath quickening.

"Well". He smiles, his eyes shining with a predatory glint. "So yes, I am just as intense at other times... even more so".

And with those words, his mouth meets yours in a passionate kiss. His hands glide over your body, exploring every part of you, while yours cling to his shoulders with need. The bathroom fills with our sounds, with gasps and sighs as we lose ourselves in this long-repressed need.

"Take off your shirt," he whispers in your ear, his warm breath on your skin, and you obey without thinking. It slides off your shoulders and falls to the ground, and before you can speak, your fingers sink into his hair and you pull him towards you again.

"Is this what you wanted?" he gasps on your lips, his fingers climbing up your ribs and rubbing your skin in circular motions.

You stop. The question makes something change in you. It's as if a veil has been lifted, and everything suddenly became clear.

"I want more," you reply, sincere, not caring that he notices what you feel. I want to feel you. I want to make you moan. I want you to be unable to pull away from me.

And his eyes shine. Her gaze turns dark, predatory, and her lips curve into a smile.

"Wow… that's interesting". He nods, his fingers caressing your lips. "Fortunately, I can fulfill your wishes".

And before you can respond, his fingers slide over your pants. The sound of the zipper opening is loud in the silence of the bathroom, and you barely have time to process it before his hands grab your thighs and sit you on the edge of the sink.

"Strip," he orders, his eyes shifting to your pants, and you don't hesitate to obey.

You remove them immediately, and your underwear slips off with them, revealing your naked body. His eyes roam over every part of you, as if it were the first time he sees you, and his breath quickens suddenly.

"You look beautiful" he gasps, his voice deeper now, filled with need. "So beautiful..."

And again, his lips meet yours in a wild, hungry kiss. His hand moves up your thigh and grabs your leg, pressing it against his waist.

"Do you like it?" he whispers, his hand rubbing you. "Do you like what I'm doing to you?"

You nod, and his smile curves again. His fingers touch you in a way that makes your feet go cold and you tense up.

"That's interesting" he pants. "I think I'm going to need a bit more information".

And with his words, a finger begins to penetrate you. The movement is slow, as if he is unsure, but soon, his fingers begin to move in circular motions, penetrating you again and again, and you curl up, wrapping your legs around his fingers.

"Is this better?" she asks, her voice tense with desire.

"Mmm" you respond with a gasp, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

"Mmm what?"

"Yes…" you manage to say, your breath now more rapid. The pleasure is intense, it makes every part of you tense in an exquisite way. "Continue".

And he does it, his finger moving faster and deeper each time. His lips slide down to your nipples and he begins to suck on them, drawing them in with slow movements. The pleasure makes you arch towards him, trying for more, but his hand suddenly stops.

"Is that what you want?" he whispers. Do you want me to touch you?

"Yes, please" you gasp, pleading. "Don't stop..."

And his hand starts to move again. This time it is two fingers that penetrate you, slowly, but increasingly intensely. You arch towards him, with a cry of pleasure.

"And this?" Jun-ho whispers. Do you want more?

"Yes" you manage to respond, every part of you vibrating with pleasure. "Please".

"Please?" he repeats. I like that.

His fingers stop again, but before you can protest, his body shifts position, lowering slowly, and his mouth meets your sex. His lips begin to suck you, licking every part of you with slow, exquisite movements. Your body arches towards him again, trying more, and his fingers penetrate you once more.

The sensation is indescribable. The pressure inside you, the heat in your breasts, the sensation of his lips on you... everything comes together in an intense, exquisite pleasure.

"Jun-ho" you sob, your fingers sinking into his hair. "Jun-ho!"

"What?" he whispers, his eyes fixed on you.

"More... more..." you manage to stammer, trying to describe the pleasure.

And his mouth fills you up again. His lips suck you with strong movements, his fingers penetrating you faster and faster. Your body shakes with pleasure, but his mouth doesn't stop. He sucks you with frantic movements, devours you with the hunger of a man who hasn't eaten in days. His fingers caress you, touch you in the most exquisite way, and suddenly, the pleasure is overwhelming.

"Oh, god!" you moan, your fingers tugging at his hair. "Yes... yes..."

And everything fades away. The pleasure bursts into an intense orgasm, making you arch against his fingers. Your body shakes back and forth, trying to rid itself of the pleasure, but his fingers and mouth hold you there, not letting you go.

Finally, the orgasm fades, and your body collapses onto the sink. His fingers withdraw, and his mouth kisses you gently. Then, a moment later, his arms wrap around you and lift you, sitting you back on the sink.

"I think you're the best meal I've ever had," he says, his smile mischievous.

You smile too.

"You're not bad either" you tell him.

"No?" He approaches you with slow steps. "Does that mean you might want more?".

You smile at him again.

"It depends". You approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist. "What do you have to offer me?"

"Oh, I think I have something you might find interesting…" He nods, smiling. "Do you want to see it?"

You nod your head, and immediately, his fingers begin to lower his belt. He lowers his pants and lets them fall to the ground. And there it is, his member, erect, strong, ready to penetrate you.

"Do you want to try this?" gasps Jun-ho, his breath already quickened. Do you want to feel me inside you?

You smile mischievously.

"Hmm…" you respond. "I don't know, what do you offer me if I try it?"

"If you try it, I promise you'll feel something incredible". His fingers begin to caress your thighs again. "I'm going to make you feel things you've never imagined".

"Hmm…" you whisper. "Well, then it seems fine to me. I'm going to give it a try".

And immediately, you get up from the sink and approach Jun-ho. His arms close around you and push you against the bathroom wall. His eyes fixate on you, shining with intense desire as he leans against you, his member brushing against your core.

"Do you want?" he whispers.

"Yes".You nod your head. "I want!"

And her hips move forward. His member penetrates you in a gentle yet intense manner. The contact is exquisite, making you sigh with pleasure and fall into his arms.

"Is that okay?" she gasps between breaths.

"Hmm... yes" you murmur, your fingers encircling his shoulders. "Continue..."

And his hips begin to move again. His member penetrates you harder, deeper, and with each movement, the pleasure within you grows. His fingers grip your legs, lifting them towards his waist for easier access, and you let yourself go, trying to absorb all the pleasure you can.

"Do you like this?" he whispers again, his breath quickening more and more. Do you like how I touch you?

"Yes... yes..." you murmur, your breathing also becoming increasingly rapid.

"Well —he gasps with a sigh." Then I'm going to give you more... much more...

Her hips start to move again. This time his member penetrates you harder than before, faster. The pleasure is indescribable, it makes your body tense and contract towards him.

"Oh!" you moan between sighs. "Like this!"

"Like this?" he gasps again. "Do you want it like this?"

"Yes... Yes..." you respond, your fingers gripping it tighter—. Yes!

And he doesn't say anything more. His hips keep moving that way, with quick and deep movements. His arms wrap around you, holding you against him, and your fingers clutch his shoulders. The pleasure is increasingly intense, increasingly unbearable, but his body does not stop.

Finally, his breathing quickens too much, each of his movements becomes increasingly rough, and his member begins to pulse inside you.

"God!" she screams, her breath ragged.

And everything suddenly explodes. His member hardens and begins to release his semen into a hot river. His body shakes back and forth, trying to absorb every sensation, and the pleasure makes you let go with a scream. The orgasm is strong, intense, making your fingers grip him tighter and the walls surround him.

Finally, everything disappears again. Her hips come to a stop, her breathing returns to normal, and her arms relax. Her eyes, however, continue to shine. He approaches you and kisses you on the cheek.

"Was it how you wanted it?" he whispers between your lips.

You smile mischievously again.

"Hmm… I think it was better". You slip out of his arms and start getting dressed. "The thing is, I can't have this whenever I want".

He smiles again.

"That's easy to fix" he says, while also getting dressed. I can give you as much as you want.

"I hope so". And immediately you walk away from him, leaving the bathroom without waiting to see his reaction.

"Don't worry, you won't have to wait long," you hear his words behind you, and a smile curves your lips.

[faygosoda]

A/N: Chat I had to do smth cute but also slightly angsty JS NOT TO THE POINT WHERE READER DIES AGAI

Title: My Gift To You

Yeah, playing a dumb kids game with a random suited stranger that had soo much money in his suitcase in the subway was probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.

Who would have expected to be kidnapped under a bridge and brought to a gigantic place full of so many other people?

Nobody.

But at least you won against that random dude eight times before he seemed as though he got upset and ended your streak, giving you a small card before leaving and telling you to call to play games for some money..

I mean talk about human trafficking..

So here you were, standing in a crowd of people as debts got named off and people were show on screen and- wait what the fuck?

Hyun-Ju.

Your- dude that’s your girlfriend.

Uhm hello what the fuckkkk..

You’d think you would be able to see her tall self through the crowd but all of these people were blocking the way n shouting obscenities left and right.

Why was the love of your life here of all places?

Wait- nevermind, you know why.

The surgeries duh.

Idiot.

That was the same reason you were here for so why wouldn’t she also be here for that as well.

Tch.

You wish she would’ve told you instead of scting all suspicious and distant.

Then again you didn’t say shit to her though but thats different cause it just issss.

Too lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized that the guards had finally shut up, the crowd of people breaking apart slightly which gives you the chance to find your girlfriend.

You move through the crowd, eyes catching the tall figure and short hair of your lover whos back is slightly turned away from you, hands clasped together showing her hesitance.

Hyun-Ju looks around, observing those around her, thoughts spiraling before a hand clasps down on her shoulder which causes her eyebrows to slightly furrow and turn to the person that held her and-

Oh my.

“..(Name)! What are you doing here?” Her eyebrows were raised in surprise, her lipstick covered lips forming a small ‘o’ shape.

“Your surgeries.. I wanted to help out, but I should be the one asking considering I haven’t been seeing you as often lately but all of a sudden you’re here.” You squint at her, head tikted as you held strong eye contact with her.

Hyun-Ju sighed, a hand coming up to caress your cheek as she spoke while the other landed on your waist, giving you a squeeze.

“My love, I’m doing this for my surgeries as well, and for us. That’s why I’ve been so distant.. I’m sorry. It’s no excuse though and I promise I will make it up to you.”

Damn. She had you wrapped around her finger superrrr tight..

You huff, leaning into her hand, lips pursed as you nod. “It’s okay.. kinda. I missed you a lot Hyun-Ju and I- I honestly thought you were maybe kinda.. getting tired of me.”

Your words come out mumbled, eyes flickering down as you mess with the hem of her zip up.

“I know it’s probably stupid-“

“No, no it’s not. I should have been honest with you. I truly didn’t mean to make you think that Sweetheart, I love you and I’ll never leave you again..”

She kisses your cheek and then your lips, a small smile on her face before she pulls away, her hand still remaining on your hip.

Sadly, the lovely reunion is cut short by the guards speaking about photos..

Didn’t know it was selfie time.

You and Hyun-Ju move, following the rest of the players while holding hands to stay together.

<><><><><><>

Photos had been taken already and it was time for the first game.

Hyun-Ju and you hadn’t let go of each other besides for picture taking, having took never leaving each other again very seriously.

Hand in hand you both moved through large doors into an arena filmed with.. sand?

“Sandbox..?” You mumble, Hyun-Ju humming as she thought.

“I don’t think so.. look at that big doll at the end of the room.” She points, your eyes following in that direction, landing on a tall and gigantic doll-like robot.

“Oh…. Ew.” That earns you a snort from your lover who kisses the top of your forehead with the shake of her head.

A sudden voice is heard through out the arena, explaining the game.

“Red light green light? Oh I’m good at this! It’ll be easy!” You smile, laughing.

Yeah uhm it wasn’t easy.

Numerous times you had tripped, not only hurting your hands and knees but landing in puddles of blood.

Blood from the others players around you.

Dead players might you add.

As of now you stood behind Hyun-Ju, hands shaky and throat tight from everything going on around you.

What the fuck was happening????

Your hand held the hem of Hyun-Ju’s shirt tightly, squeezing your eyes shut as the doll indicated to stop.

So close to the line.. just fifteen steps away.

So close yet so far from death.

You wanted to go home, see your family, see your friends, listen to music, eat something, lay in bed with the love of your life who was holding up with this way better than you were.

Eight steps away.

Then, you’re grabbed by the sleeve, pulled in front of someone as the robot says “green light!”.

Hyun-Ju’s shaky breath hits the nape of your neck, her hand tight on your arm as she hold you in front of her, moving you along.

“Red light!”

Four steps away.

It feels like eternity when the doll rings out “green light!” And your pushed past the line, your girlfriends body making contact with your own as she sughs in relief, her hold still tight but not in a painful way but instead in a way that shes praying this is the first and only round of this sick and twisted game.

You let a breath that you didn’t even know you had left in you, head turning to her with eyes full of tears, about ti say something until shes dashing right across the line and back into the peripheral of that stupid pig-tailed doll.

“HYUN-JU!”

It’s a pathetic cry, already knowing that when your girlfriend makes up her mind there’s no way of changing it.

You watch as she runs towards to males, one already injured and the other assisting.

Your heart beats in your chest as the seconds go down, frozen in your spot as all three freeze, Hyun-Ju and the other man that helps the injured man shake in fear.

Five seconds left.

You’re gonna be sick.

Please you can’t lose her you can’t you can’t you fucking can’t

They make it over the line though, falling on the floor and a sudden ‘BANG!’ Rings throughout the arena.

The injured man was taken out.

Is it bad that you felt relief that it wasn’t Hyun-Ju?

You don’t know and in the moment you don’t give a fuck as long as she’s alright.

You rush to her aid, arms wrapping around her tightly as your ears ring.

She’s okay.

You’re both okay.

You both WILL BE okay.

You’ll get out of here and go to Thailand and- and everything will be okay.

The end!

—————————————————————————

A/N: I finished this up during basketball practice LOL hope u guys like it!! PLS SEND IN MORE REQUESTS I ONLY GOT 2 RNN💔😒

[gojoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 12 | Jing Yuan

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

want to be a part of the taglist? then pls go to taglist ^-^

Previous | Fic Masterlist | Next

“Good evening, princess.”

Without much time to relax or breathe when Blade left to go to the Emperor, another had entered the infirmary. You recognized him easily. He was the main physician that cared for people here. Luocha.

Bringing up the blankets close to your face as a sort of barrier between you and the man, you nodded to him, “h- hello… are you… that Emperor that that guard had mentioned?”

Luocha chuckled as he came to your bedside, “no, no. I’m a doctor, a healer of sorts. Now, princess, how are you feeling? Is there any pain anywhere?”

Taking a moment to think things over, you were glad that everything was working so well so far. Though, truthfully, you haven’t once talked to Luocha before, so you weren’t sure just how perceptive he was, so the amnesia act must go on.

“A little… mainly in my legs, back, and a dull throb in my head.”

Luocha nodded, “and can you remember anything?”

You shook your head, “I- I can’t,” for more of an effective you tried to think of something sad so your eyes could start watering, and just as the tears started to form Luocha was quick to try to comfort you which was surprising to say the least.

“Don’t cry, princess, we don’t have to talk about your lost memory, alright? Let’s focus on something else.”

You nodded and just as Luocha brought out a small handkerchief, probably to wipe your tears, but before he could hand it to you, the infirmary door opened again, and Blade stepped through… with the Emperor coming in right after.

“Why is she crying,” Blade asked.

Luocha bowed, “I’m afraid it’s my fault, I asked her if she could remember anything, and I guess all the stress has finally gotten to her. My apologies.”

Without a word, Jing Yuan stepped forward and took the handkerchief from Luocha’s hand, and when he walked over to you, you couldn’t deny the fear that strikes through your veins as you scooted away, your back hitting the headboard as Jing Yuan sat on the edge of the bed and reached for you.

But all you could see was the striking arch of his blade swinging down.

However, instead of feeling that cold, electrifying metal glide straight through your body like it was made of paper, you felt a warm, calloused hand gently cup your cheek. The handkerchief cloth then lightly being applied to your dampened skin.

You trembled within his hold as he wiped away your tears. A part of you still disbelieving as he gently cleaned you up. It was such a stark contrast to your other meetings with him.

Once your tears were dried, Jing Yuan tossed the handkerchief back to Luocha, “leave us.”

Bowing almost immediately, Luocha took his leave. Though, Blade hesitated for a moment.

“That goes for you as well, Blade.”

Blade only gave a stiff nod before leaving. Your mind was a bit confused at the interaction. Blade has never done that before. He was always quick to follow Jing Yuan’s orders after all.

When you and Jing Yuan were finally alone, you half expected him to tell you to drop the act, but the words never came. Instead, his steel-like focus was solely on you, and not once were you able to stop your shaking, trembling form because of it.

His hand that was cupping your cheek moved to gently caress your face before he let his palm fall away from you.

“Princess.”

“Y- yes,” your voice wobbled slightly.

“Do you know how I am?”

“The- the Emperor?”

He smiled at your answer, “and my name?”

You shook your head, “no,” that one word was a mere quiet whisper that fell from your lips. This was way different than before. Not once had Jing Yuan ever asked anyone to leave you two alone. There was always a third-party present.

“My name is Jing Yuan.”

You nodded.

“Do you know your name?”

“I don’t… everyone only calls me by that princess title.”

Jing Yuan chuckled softly at your response and told you what your name was, and before he could say anything else, you spoke first even though that same fear still coursed through you.

“Is it true?”

“What is?”

“That- that we’re supposed to be getting married to one another?”

He hummed at that question, “we are, yes. You’re my fiancé, in fact.”

His hands moved down to your own, his fingertips lightly brushing at your knuckles as he tried to coax you to let go of the blanket, and once you did, he let his fingers slip into your palm before intertwining both his and your fingers together.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t remember anything much less being your fiancé.”

“That’s alright, I’m sure your memory will come back in time.”

You panicked then, was he really dead set on this marriage then?! You didn’t let your inner turmoil show as you looked at your intertwined hands, “how did we end up together?”

“I met you at your father’s castle. The moment I saw you, I knew you were the one.”

You resisted the urge to pull your hand away from his.

“Did I tell you much about myself? Anything you can remember? I- I mean, if you want to tell me, of course. It’s just- it might help me remember,” you rambled a bit, your nerves quickly acting up, but Jing Yuan was quick to ease you, surprising as it sounds.

“I know that your favorite color is (color), and that you like to eat (favorite food),” he started to list off a few things, each detail surprising you more than before because… he was right on all of them, but you never told him any of this, so how-? How was it that he seemed to know you so well?!

And as your conversation with the Emperor continued, Luocha had returned at some point to prescribe you some sort of pain relief drink that you will need to take every morning and even said that you will be able to go back to your room. Which was a blessing, well, until Luocha left once more, and Jing Yuan stood up as well just as the infirmary door closed.

“Shall we?”

His hand was still intertwined with your own as you nodded. He was probably going to lead you back to your room, much to your relief. However, as you stood up the pain in your legs was way more than you previously thought as you left out a small cry of pain and stumbled forward.

Luckily, Jing Yuan had already caught you before you could fall face first to the floor, and before you could apologize, he had lifted you up causing a gasp to leave your lips as he moved to hold you in a bridal carry. Scrambling in his grasp, you hadn’t noticed that you had wrapped your arms around his neck until you turned your head to look at him, and not realizing that he was looking at you too, your lips had accidentally brushed against his own.

You reacted quickly as you pulled away, “I- I’m so sorry!”

And as you looked at him, it was like it took a moment for your words to register in his head as his eyes seemed to have a far away look in his eyes, but before you could say anything else, he smiled at you.

“You don’t need to apologize for something like that.”

You nodded as he fixed his hold on you and moved to exit the infirmary, and just as you were about to ask him if he wanted you to open the door for him, he had called out to Blade, and just as he did, the door opened. Blade seemingly had been guarding the infirmary this entire time.

“Come along.”

The walk to your room was silent and whatever you did, you just couldn’t get your body to relax within his hold. Your tension not going unnoticed by the Emperor, but luckily he didn’t say anything.

“Here we are.”

Looking towards the door and then back up at Jing Yuan’s face you asked, “do we… not sleep in the same room?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, but he was quick to recover, “before we had agreed not to share a room until after we are married, however, maybe sleeping in the same room will hasten your memories to come back sooner rather than later.”

You were quick to shake your head as you ducked your chin down to avoid eye contact, “n- no, we can- we can wait until we’re married- if- if you still want to marry me.”

Having Blade open your bedroom door, Jing Yuan had walked in with you still in his arms. His steps easily carry you to your bed, but before he set you down, he had leaned into you. His lips pressing softly to your forehead causing you to freeze up again.

“Get some rest, I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning. Your maids will come assist you in getting ready tomorrow,” he said to you as he set you down.

“Al- alright, thank you Emper-,” before you could finish he had stopped you, his thumb pressing firmly against your lips.

“My name.”

Nodding to him, he had brought his hand away, “thank you…. Yuan.”

The shortening of his name seemed to catch him off guard again, but just as before his recovery was as swift as the wind, and he delivered his goodnight to you just as easily before leaving your room.

And once you were finally alone, you flopped back into your mattress. Jing Yuan was acting off, but you knew better. As long as you stayed on your toes and kept at it, you knew that you would be able to make it home.

“Blade.”

“Yes?”

“Has Dan Heng apprehended the maid responsible?”

“He has.”

“Good.”

“Do you want him to take care of her?”

“No, I’ll kill her myself.”

taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[sarahsangelicdoll]

ooo girl you ate with this 💞💞

“rafe grips at your hips, pulling your body into his. he dips his head down, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, groaning as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “i miss you. do you miss me?””

those simple words would work on me in an instant

“rafe wraps his hand in your hair, tugging harshly at your messy locks as he groans in frustration. “baby, please? you wanna hear me beg? i’m not beneath begging, not with you at least.””

don’t need to ask me twice 🫡

“tears roll down your face, your throat already sore from how hard he was fucking it. you gag and moan around him, feeling him twitch in your mouth, the vein on the bottom of his shaft throbbing. you work your tongue against him, helping push him toward his release. rafe’s cock swells, low curses falling from his lips. he yanks your head back by your hair, his cock slipping from your lips, “goddamn… forgot how good you take a throat fucking, baby.. but i wanna cum somewhere else tonight.””

on the face, arm, pussy, tits, hair, neck anywhere you have permission

“you lift your face from his neck, resting your forehead against his, the two of you staring into each others eyes as rafe continues to fuck himself inside you. rafe pulls his right hand off your hip, his thrusts slowing as he reaches up and swipes a tear from your cheek. “don’t cry, baby.” “

““i know baby… i know,” rafe lets out his out pleasure filled moan, his voice cracking as the next words leave his mouth, “i love you… fuck i love you, this is all about you, let it out, be my good girl and cum f’me, yeah?””

I love reading the few lovey dovey smut fics sm it highkey always got me toes curling and smiling like a lil school girl who just spoke to her crush 🤭

“rafe sighs, “listen. i meant everything i said, i’m fucking sorry. i love you, i just… goddamnit, i just suck at showing my emotions. i suck at letting people in, and because of that, i pushed you away and lost the best fucking thing that ever happened to me,” you laugh, rolling your eyes but rafe’s face never falters. “i’m not fucking joking. i fucking love you, okay? okay, y/n? i fucking love you, and i need you.””

“rafe blows out a breath. “thank you. i know how i feel. i fucked up, and i want to prove to you that i can be better… for you. please, just, stay with me tonight, let me try and get a start on proving to you how much i need you back,” he pauses, swallowing harshly before he continues, “and if after tonight, you still feel the same.. you can leave and i’ll never bother you again.””

“rafe smiles hopefully, “i understand, i promise, i mean everything. i will prove to you how much i fucking love you,” he leaves a soft kiss to your lips, standing from the couch with you in his arms bridal style. “now, let’s get your upstairs and cleaned up, then we’ll lay in bed and we can talk about anything, whatever you want, tonight’s all about you, and i’m here to listen and do whatever i can to fix us.””

i understand that reqs r closed and u completely don’t have to fulfill this but i thought you’d do a BANGER job at this prompt: u and rafe r married but are getting divorced and u threw a divorce party… only to end the night going home with him… a little bit of angst with some smut?? idk make it ur own 💗

zyaaaa<3 i love you for this, and thank you for trusting ME with your request!!!

CW: 18+ only! slight angst, more fluff than i intended, divorce, smut, male receiving oral, piv sex.

note: yeah yeah reader went out w her friends but left w rafe and none of them tried to stop her. in my head none of them noticed their interaction/her leaving with him. let’s pretend they’re blowing up her phone while she’s gettin’ the best dick down of her lifeee. also, i suck at endings, its my biggest flaw so yeah sorry if the ending is bad.

“here’s to finally being free of the most toxic marriage to the most toxic man!” you say joyfully, clinking your glass with three of your closest friends.

your friends all giggle, bringing the champagne flutes to their lips and taking small sips. you glance around your house, a weight seemingly lifted off your shoulders as you take in how freeing it feels to finally have your divorce finalized. you’d been married for three years, and while it was good at first, somewhere during the marriage your— now ex— husband had become cold and indifferent toward you. you couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, nor could you give a reason why, but all you knew was enough was enough. you were too young and too beautiful to spend the rest of your life in a loveless marriage to a man who treated you like shit.

your friends voice rips you from your thoughts. “earth to y/n.. you okay babe?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, giving your friend a big smile before nodding your head. “yeah i’m fine,” pausing, you down the rest of your champagne, setting the glass onto your coffee table and rising from your spot on the couch. “let’s go out tonight.”

your friends all share slightly concerned looks with one another before their attention lands on you. nicole clears her throat, awkwardly shifting before she finally speaks, “i mean.. yeah sure, but are you sure you wanna put yourself out there like that right now?”

you roll your eyes, sighing. “yes i’m sure. i just spent the last year of my life going through a messy divorce process, so i’d like to go out with my girls, have some drinks, dance a little, and maybe, just maybe, find some hot guy to bring home. i’m not going out to find my next husband, jesus.”

and that’s exactly what you did, but little did you know… the man you’d go home with was your ex husband.

—

“another shot of patrón please? thank you!” you shout to the bartender, giving him a flirty half-drunken smile.

the bartender nods, moving to pour your drink before sliding it across the bar to you. you smile, grabbing the glass and downing it before setting it back on the bars top.

“a pretty woman like you shouldn’t be buying her own drinks.” a low, raspy voice says from behind you.

you bite at your bottom lip, smiling to yourself before turning to face the mystery man. your eyes widen in shock when you see rafe, standing so close to you that you could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“rafe.. what the fuck are you doing here?”

he smiles down at you, taking a step closer, backing you into the bar. “i could ask you the same question. the divorce only finalized today, trying to forget me so soon, sweetheart?”

“i’m not your fucking sweetheart, rafe. now leave me alo-”

rafe grips at your hips, pulling your body into his. he dips his head down, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, groaning as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “i miss you. do you miss me?”

your pussy pulses from his words, the smell of him so intoxicating it had your head spinning more than it already was. you did love him, and you hated that he pushed you to file for divorce, but it’s how things were. you couldn’t mess up everything you’d fought for, not now, not ever.

you try and shove him back, but his hands tighten on your waist, not allowing you to move. “baby, stop. m’sorry, for everything. i know the divorce finalized today, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still fuck.. maybe try and just be friends, date, see where life takes us, right?”

he was trying to manipulate your drunk mind, and you couldn’t let him win. you refused to let him win. it was done. you were free of him, so why was he here and trying to reel you back in? he didn’t miss you, he missed the comfort you brought him, he missed how you’d always try and calm his mind, how you’d forgive him every time he fucked up. he didn’t miss you.

“rafe please, stop. i’m too drunk for this argument. you don’t fucking miss me, you miss the way i was for you,” you pause, your half-lidded eyes looking up and finding rafe’s beautiful blue eyes. “i can’t do this, please.”

you tear your eyes off his, knowing if you looked into them for too long, you’d be a goner. you’d go home with him, let him have his way with you, and wake up regretting it in the morning, because you and rafe could never work out. not as friends, not as a couple, not as anything.

rafe slides his left hand up your sides, reaching your face and cupping your cheek in his hand. his thumb slowly strokes the skin before he hooks his thumb and index finger under your chin, forcing your head up.

“baby.. i do miss you. please, just— just let me prove to you how much i fucking miss you.”

his words tug at your heartstrings, your body melting into his touch like it always did. tears well in your eyes, your chin wobbling as you look into his eyes, eyes that used to make your heart stop and made you feel safe and at home.

sighing, you nod your head once. “okay.. okay fine. just one night, we can look at it as… goodbye sex. right?”

a smile takes over rafe’s lips, “whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart. let’s go.”

he quickly grabs your hand, pulling you across the dance floor and out the doors of the club you were in. the warm, mid-summer air hits your skin, the light breeze sending goosebumps up your arms. rafe drags you across the parking lot, eagerly reaching his truck and unlocking it, opening the passenger door for you. you raise a brow at him, “someone’s really trying tonight, isn’t he? you stopped opening my door for me years ago.”

rafe chuckles. “i’m sorry for that… truly.”

you roll your eyes, giving him a small smile before lifting yourself into his truck, pulling on your seatbelt as he shuts the door for you. he rounds the front of his truck, hopping into the driver seat and starting the truck, putting it into reverse and speeding out of the clubs parking lot.

the ride back to rafe’s house is comfortably silent, and the second you two arrive, rafe is killing the engine and hopping out to help you out and into his house.

you barely make it through the front door before rafe’s lips are on yours. he grips your hips in his hands, squeezing tightly as his lips devour yours. he bites at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it softly. he rests his forehead against yours, the sound of both your heavy breathing filling the small entryway of his house.

“fuck i missed you, i missed you so fucking much sweetheart.” rafe breathes out, his hands slowly running up and down your sides.

he runs his hands down to your ass, squeezing at it softly before running them down further, his fingers playing with the hem of your dress. he begins slowly pulling the dress up your body, exposing your black lace thong, sucking in a sharp breath, “fuck.”

your cheeks heat up under his intense gaze, “rafe.. please? ‘m so horny, just need to feel you tonight, okay? just make me forget why we split up.”

rafe bites his bottom lip hard, nodding his head furiously. he pulls your dress off completely, tossing it behind you. he dips his head down again, his lips attacking the length of your neck with sloppy, open mouthed kisses. your knees grow weak, slightly shaking when he sucks softly at the skin of your neck, pulling back and groaning as he admires the deep purple bruise he’d marked you with.

“so beautiful,”

you drop to your knees, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt, finally pulling it free from the loops of his khakis and tossing it to the floor before working his button and zipper. rafe is quick to shove his khakis and boxers down, letting his hard cock spring free. you moan at the sight of him, hands reaching out hesitantly to grip at his thick shaft.

a low groan spills from rafe’s lips the second your hands wrap around him, giving slow and deliberate strokes. “always looked so pretty on your knees f’me, never wanna lose this, baby.”

you dart out your tongue, licking up the precum that had leaked from his tip. you moan at the taste of him on your tongue. you missed him, and this is definitely a huge step backward, but you’d deal with the consequences later. tonight, you wanted to soak up having him be attentive and loving with you again, he hadn’t been this way in so long.

“c’mon baby, suck my cock, need to feel those pretty lips wrapped ‘round me.”

you obey, wrapping your lips around his swollen tip and sucking at it lightly, your hands still slowly stroking at his shaft. rafe groans, his head thrown back in pleasure as his cock twitches in your hands. you slowly push more of him into your mouth, sucking him down your throat until he’s buried deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. you hold him there, breathing in deep through your nose, while your tongue works at the vein on the underside of his cock.

you pull your head back, leaving only the tip in your mouth. you tease him, sucking at his head before pulling him out completely, giving quick strokes with your hands, your lips leaving soft kisses up and down his length.

rafe wraps his hand in your hair, tugging harshly at your messy locks as he groans in frustration. “baby, please? you wanna hear me beg? i’m not beneath begging, not with you at least.”

you shift on your knees, your clit pulsing at how desperate he was for you. this is what you wanted, for rafe to be desperate for your touch and attention. not wasting another second, you push him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you begin bobbing your head up and down, taking him all the way down your throat before slowly sliding him back out. rafe’s grip on your hair loosens, but he quickly tightens it back, yanking at your hair harshly as he holds you in place. he begins thrusting his hip, fucking himself down your throat at a quick pace, taking away your air with each push of his hips.

tears roll down your face, your throat already sore from how hard he was fucking it. you gag and moan around him, feeling him twitch in your mouth, the vein on the bottom of his shaft throbbing. you work your tongue against him, helping push him toward his release. rafe’s cock swells, low curses falling from his lips. he yanks your head back by your hair, his cock slipping from your lips, “goddamn… forgot how good you take a throat fucking, baby.. but i wanna cum somewhere else tonight.”

your tear-filled, bloodshot eyes meet his and he extends his hand out for you to grab. you hesitantly place your smaller hand in his, letting him pull you up off your knees. his lips are on yours in seconds, tongue slipping into your mouth, tongues swirling and teeth clashing. rafe listen you off the ground, pulling you into his arms as your legs wrap around his waist. he walks you into the large living room, his lips never leaving yours. he finally breaks the kiss, gently dropping you onto his couch, the cool leather chilling your hot skin.

rafe drops to his knees, his fingers digging into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs and tossing them onto the coffee table behind him. his eyes flit down to your dripping pussy, the bright blue of his eyes drowned out by his blown pupils. he grips your thighs in his hands, roughly spreading them further apart, “you’re soaked, sweetheart. i knew you fuckin’ missed me.”

you whimper, rolling your hips in a silent plea for him to touch you. rafe chuckles, his right hand releasing your thigh and moving to cup your pussy. he slides two fingers through your slick folds, coating them in your arousal before bringing them to his lips, “mmm.. still so sweet.” he rasps.

rafe stands to his full height, lifting you off the couch and turning, sitting himself down with you in his lap. you grind yourself against his hard cock, moaning at the delicious pressure on your clit as you did. rafe lets his head fall back, his hands tightly gripping at your ass as he helped you slide yourself against his throbbing cock. you lift yourself onto your feet, hovering over him as you grasp his shaft in one hand, lining him with your entrance. rafe’s eyes find yours, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth as he waited to finally feel your pussy wrapped around him.

you slowly sink yourself down on his cock, the two of you moaning in unison. you sit yourself all the way down, burying him to the hilt, both of your hands flying to his shoulders, your nails digging into the soft skin. rafe hisses in a breath, his cock pulsing inside you, “can i move? please baby? wanna fuck this perfect fucking pussy.”

you whimper when he bucks his hips, the swollen head of his cock hitting at your sweet spot. “yes. please, rafe. please fuck me.”

that’s all rafe needed to hear. his hands make purchase on your hips, lifting you up off his cock, leaving only the tip inside before he slams himself back in. you cry out his name, leaning forward and burying your face in his neck. rafe lifts your hips slightly, allowing himself just enough room to quickly pound himself into you. your walls clench around him, tears rolling down your cheeks from the pleasure he was giving you but also because you knew, you couldn’t let him go again after this.

you lift your face from his neck, resting your forehead against his, the two of you staring into each others eyes as rafe continues to fuck himself inside you. rafe pulls his right hand off your hip, his thrusts slowing as he reaches up and swipes a tear from your cheek. “don’t cry, baby.”

you sniffle, “just feels so… fuck— so good, rafe.”

rafe slowly moves his hips, his thrusts slow and sensual. you cup his face in your hands, your eyes scanning his perfect face before falling to his lips. rafe leans forward, capturing your lips with his as the two of you move your hips in sync. you moan against his lips, your walls fluttering around his cock, “rafe.. ‘m so close… please..”

“i know baby… i know,” rafe lets out his out pleasure filled moan, his voice cracking as the next words leave his mouth, “i love you… fuck i love you, this is all about you, let it out, be my good girl and cum f’me, yeah?”

you let out a choked sob, the three small words that left his mouth pulling your heart in more ways than one. your mind is reeling, does he mean it? was losing you what he needed to realize he truly loves you and needs you? do you forgive him? your pussy clenches around rafe’s dick, your lower belly tightening as rafe’s slow strokes push you toward the edge. you sink your teeth into rafe’s shoulder, muffling your cries as you come undone around him, tears uncontrollably rolling down your face.

rafe groans, his thrusts slow and sloppy. his dick twitches inside you, a choked “i love you,” escaping him as he pushes in deep one final time, holding himself inside you as he fills your pussy with his cum.

the two of you are holding onto one another, coming down from your shared highs. heavy breathing fills the room, and when you fully come down from your bliss, you’re pulling yourself off of him, scrambling to find your panties, ignoring the wetness between your thighs and his cum seeping out of you. you’re quick to throw your panties on, turning to rush and find your dress, but rafe grabs your wrist, pulling you back into him.

you can’t look at him, “hey.. baby, look at me, please.”

a tear falls down your face, but you force yourself to look into his eyes, noticing that his are filled with his own unshed tears.

“this was a mistake.” you whisper, but rafe heard you anyways.

his brows furrow, “how can you say that?”

you try and push off of him, but he tightens his arms around you.

“rafe, please. we got a divorce. you made your bed, you chose to treat me like shit and lose me. we can’t work. we don’t work.”

rafe sighs, “listen. i meant everything i said, i’m fucking sorry. i love you, i just… goddamnit, i just suck at showing my emotions. i suck at letting people in, and because of that, i pushed you away and lost the best fucking thing that ever happened to me,” you laugh, rolling your eyes but rafe’s face never falters. “i’m not fucking joking. i fucking love you, okay? okay, y/n? i fucking love you, and i need you.”

you don’t know what to think. your divorce was just finalized, you can’t possibly go back… can you? you do love him, and never wanted this in the first place. what if you take him back and things go back to shit? you’ll look like an idiot.

rafe cups your face in his hands, his blue eyes shining as he stares back at you. “i see you overthinking this, and i understand. i do. but hear me out, please?”

“o—okay..”

rafe blows out a breath. “thank you. i know how i feel. i fucked up, and i want to prove to you that i can be better… for you. please, just, stay with me tonight, let me try and get a start on proving to you how much i need you back,” he pauses, swallowing harshly before he continues, “and if after tonight, you still feel the same.. you can leave and i’ll never bother you again.”

you think over his words, knowing that you would do anything to receive the love you once did from him again. you squeeze your eyes shut, running a hand through your hair as you let out a shaky breath. “rafe, i— fuck.. okay. fine. but if i do choose to take you back, you cannot go back to how things were. i can’t go through this again, i can’t look like the idiot who went running back just because her ex husband spewed a few sweet words after sex..”

rafe smiles hopefully, “i understand, i promise, i mean everything. i will prove to you how much i fucking love you,” he leaves a soft kiss to your lips, standing from the couch with you in his arms bridal style. “now, let’s get your upstairs and cleaned up, then we’ll lay in bed and we can talk about anything, whatever you want, tonight’s all about you, and i’m here to listen and do whatever i can to fix us.”

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @rafesbabygirlx @sarahsangelicdoll @nemesyaaa @cherryobx @httpsdrewstarkey @rafeyscurtainbangs @oceandriveab

[ifindus]

Human names for HWS Norway

I’ve seen several posts about human names for the nations going around lately and I wanted to offer my own opinion on Norway’s name, as a Norwegian person. This is not meant as critique of other people’s headcanons, it’s just my personal opinion and meant to offer some insight into the cultural and historical background of certain Norwegian names. I’ve made several posts about this topic, but I realize that it’s been years since last time and I think it’s about time to make a new one.

First; some background on naming traditions in Norway. In Norway surnames especially are very diverse and carries a lot of history and meaning behind them as they often are names of farmsteads or places where the families lived in the 1920s. This is when it became mandatory to inherit surnames from your parents. Before this, people often changed names when they migrated and took the name of the place they moved to, as a sort of “nickname” when people needed to distinguish you from other people with the same name. “Oh yes, that’s XXXX from this farm, not XXXX from that farm” etc. The patronyms had a similar function to this and prior to 1920 everyone was named in official documents in this fashion: “First name, Name of father -daughter/-son, Name of place/farmstead”. This explains the origin of the modern surnames ending with “-sen”, where “sen” means “son”. These surnames were inherited by people who did not have a connection to a farm or a place, perhaps because they lived in the cities and were working class.

Next; a critique on the more widely used name in the fandom: Lukas Bondevik. Neither of these names are good picks for Norway in my opinion. Starting with the surname; Bondevik. As its own name, it is fine, it means “farmer’s bay”. The problem with it is due to its close association with a conservative politician who at one point was prime minister in Norway. The Bondevik-government is not uncommon to talk about and when I just google the name “Bondevik”, every single result on the first page is of this politician. Again, because Norwegian surnames are so personal and geographically locked, you end up giving Norway a history relating to this specific family. There are only 201 people in Norway with this surname, most of them are related to each other, and the name will be associated with this conservative politician. It would be similar to England being named Arthur Thatcher or Arthur Churchill, or America being named Alfred F. Kennedy or Alfred F. Reagan. There is no avoiding this.

Continuing with the critique on Lukas. There is no way around this name as it has been the go-to choice for the fandom for several years now, picked out of a list of names Hima suggested. Personally I do not think this name fits Norway as a character due to both cultural and historical Norwegian associations. Lukas is not a name that was used in Norway before the 1990s and it did not become a popular name until 2008. Lukas is not a name with Norse origin, its origins are biblical, and is a new trendy name that has entered the Norwegian society with the globalisation and Americanisation of our media. It is a very young name and you will not find people over 35 with this name still today. If you talk about hws Norway where he exists before 1990, he would not have this name. It is both culturally and historically inaccurate. It is also, in my opinion, a bit of a fuck-boy name – it gives modern, upper-class or city boy vibes. Not a name that I think fits hws Norway.

Lastly; my own suggestions of names for Norway. I will never stop advocating for Sigurd as the best name for Norway. It is a name of Norse origin and has been relatively popular through all time periods, never going out of fashion, a solid Norwegian name. Because of its history you can find this name in any social class (though perhaps not upper-class today?), and it does not betray any age nor will it ever become outdated. Its meaning is “victory” and “guardian”. I must admit it does not sound very good when pronounced in English, but it is a very pretty name in Norwegian (the "d" is silent). The name has a long history, but is not closely associated with one specific person. There is a famous myth/story with origins to before the Viking Age about “Sigurd Fåvnesbane, the dragon slayer”, and I like the parallel between hws Norway and this myth, and hws England and the story of King Arthur. Sigurd is a good Norwegian name and its connotations fits the character of Norway very well.

My suggestions of surnames for Norway are Nordvik and Ødegård. I still cannot choose between these two as I love them both. Nordvik means “northern bay” and it is such a generic surname you can find it everywhere in Norway where there’s water. I like it because it ties in with the original meaning of the name “Norway”, the way to the north, and associates with the sea, which has been of huge importance to Norway through history. Ødegård means “desolate farm” and only became used as a surname/nickname after the Black Plague, which saw many farms abandoned. Ødegård was the name these farms got and people who moved there took it as a surname in the process previously explained. I like this name because it is not tied to any specific region either, so the geographical origin becomes more intangible and creates an air of mystery.

This is my personal take on the names for hws Norway, and again; is not meant to be a critique against anyone using the popular fandom names. I know habits are hard to change and at this point is probably very integrated when talking about the character. Anyone is free to use any name they want of course, I am just offering some cultural and historical background and insight on them as “Norwegian names”. If anyone has other name suggestions for Norway they are unsure about or wish to know more about, I’ll gladly make an input if Norwegian advise is wanted.

[graveyardgremlins]

WIP ALERT WIP ALERT

What makes death so special that everyone seems so scared to talk about it? It is not as if, in this universe, it’s the end of the line. Not really. If anything, it felt more like the beginning of something.

Now, routine feels like the end of it all. Even when you’re a vigilante and everyday is a surprise, it still feels like slowly withering away. Like, if you stop moving you’re going to start rotting on the spot. But for some reason, people love routine and hate death.

Dick, for example, constantly looks terrified. It’s not obvious, as no feeling in our faces is ever obvious, but I can tell it’s there. He once said, mournfully, that we would bury Bruce like he is now, with jet black hair. The thought upset him, but I still don’t understand why. It’s not as if Bruce cares. Sometimes it feels like he is trying to speed up the process.

And sure, it would suck not to be able to see someone you care about ever again. But if Dick truly is so scared of missing Bruce, he can go knocking on Constantine’s door — or Zatanna’s, or Madame Xanadu’s, or Doctor Fate’s, or Jason Blood’s, or… you get my point — and ask for a seance. Besides, it’s not as if you can say the guy wasted his life. No one on this Earth has more accomplishments under his belt than Batman himself.

So why the long face?

Like, sure I get why they look weird every time I bring up my past death. I was a kid and all that. But they seriously need to stop looking at me like I’m planning to kill myself everytime I bring up my future death. I’m not planning to die any time soon, but what if I do? Are they going to lose their shit again?

I mean, Tim literally cloned his best friend as a manner to bring him back from the dead because he couldn’t cope with him being gone. Not to say I’m terribly worried about the Imposter missing me so much as to clone me, but still. What if I die? Are they going to try to bring me back? Because I don’t think I want that.

Death was easy, you know? It was awful up until the point where it wasn’t. I don’t remember much, but I remember being warm and embraced. And then someone dragged me back screaming and kicking. Then I woke up boiling alive, with the skin falling off my bones in the middle of the Assassin’s League Headquarters.

I’m not particularly excited about being boiled alive again.

No one in this family knows how to let go and Bruce is the worst one. I used to be so mad that his grief wasn’t enough to make him kill the Joker. I wanted him to prove that he loved me like he said he did. But I was a recently deceased and resurrected teenager. I firmly believe that the only reason Jesus reacted better to being murdered is because he was already thirty three. Now, as an adult, I’m less mad.

Bruce deals with grief like this: he doesn’t. He lets it eat him away. I think he likes it, the feeling of rotting from the inside out. Maybe that’s why he likes routine too. I think he has a lot of love inside of him that, instead of showing it, he reschedules it. Like he thinks “tomorrow I’ll show it” and then never does. And when I died, maybe he didn’t have anywhere to put that love anymore. There wouldn’t be any more “tomorrows.” So he just rotted.

It’s why I try not to be jealous about how endlessly patient and affectionate he is with Damian. Or how careful he is with Tim. Or how much interest he takes in everything Duke does. Or how he always listens when Steph talks. Or how he always comes when Cass calls him. At least, I served to teach him a lesson. 

So, yeah, when I got an invitation to a Ghost Ball, I didn’t tell anyone. Because they don’t understand why I linger in the cemetery. They don’t understand why I kill, when they believe I should be the first one to be against death. They don’t understand why I keep talking about dying over and over and over. They just don’t get it.

Also, they would totally ruin this moment for me. I’m sure of it.

How many times do you get invited to a ball? Not those shitass galas the Waynes always go to. A real authentic 1800’s ball. With the lettering cursive invitation, sprayed with some kind of perfume, sealed with a gold wax coat of arms. Not only that! To what was an official celebration to the Ghost King’s 21th birthday.

I didn’t even know there was a Ghost King!

Sure, it’s probably a trap. This kind of thing is always a trap. But they had addressed the invitation to “The Red Knight of Gotham, Avenger of the Damned, Cursebreaker, Three Times Born, Wielder of the All-Blades, the Darkest Star” and, if I am to be honest, flattery will get you everywhere with me.

I’m not entirely sure what the “Darkest Star” was in reference to, but it’s the least of my concern. The theme of the ball was Black, White and Neon Green, which completely fucks up my aesthetic. The last time I wore green I was a Robin and I’m particularly inclined to never wear it again. I’m also not wearing a tuxedo. Maybe a black suit over the armor instead of the usual jacket and a neon green handkerchief.

Now the problem is getting fitted for a suit like that. Every rich motherfucker knows that just sending your measurements to a tailor that never met you in person before is the recipe for a disaster. And sure as hell there is not a single tailor in the Crime Alley. Not that I know of. And there is no way in hell, or heaven or wherever the flying fuck the Infinity Realms were, I’m showing up to a real ball looking anything short of dreamy.

So, I did the reasonable thing and texted Alfred.

If you could come by the Manor, Master Jason, I will see what can be done. He texted back.

There is a theory going around the midst of superheroes that says that the one thing all of the bats have in common is how stubborn we are. It’s true, but I don’t think we learned that from Bruce. I’m pretty sure that’s just the Pennyworth in all of us. That man clearly only still works as a butler at 65 and calls us all “master”, “miss”, “mister” and “ma’am” out of pure stubbornness. I have no evidence of this, but I’m working on the theory that someone at some point betted that he would crack eventually, which is why he hasn’t. That I know of.

So, I showed up at the Manor like he asked me to.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tim asked.

“I live here,” I answered.

“No, you don’t.”

“Unless someone touched my room, which I doubt, then yes, I do.”

“When was the last time you were here?”

“Last week. I dropped by to move all your furniture 1 inch to the left counterclockwise.”

“I knew it! I knew someone was touching my stuff! Steph said I was crazy!”

“You are, but I touched your stuff. Like all of it. Including your Monster collection. You should really clean that, by the way. It’s disgusting.”

“Fuck you.”

Someone cleaned their throat and we both turned around to see Alfred standing in the hallway, looking less than impressed. I’m pretty sure we learned that from him too.

“Sorry, Alfred,” Tim said.

Alfred sighed and then turned his frown towards me.

“What? I didn’t curse.”

He raised one pointed eyebrow and that’s all it took.

“Sorry for touching your stuff, Timberlake,” I said and turned to Alfred again. “Happy?”

“I suppose that will suffice.”

“Yeah, fine,” Tim agreed and moved out of the way to let me in. “Just never do it again.”

“Oh, I’m definitely doing it again.”

“Why?!”

“Dick told me to stop whining and start getting on that, and I quote, ‘big brother grind’, so you and the Demon brat are going to have to endure it.”

“Why not Duke?”

“He is obviously my favorite.”

Tim just groaned and followed us to one of the upstairs closet.

“What are we doing anyway?”

“We are doing nothing. You weren’t invited.”

“Master Jason is getting fitted for a new suit,” Alfred said, ignoring me.

“Why?” Tim asked.

“What are you? A Toddler? Why do you think?”

“Well, you sure as hell aren’t going to the galas—”

“Damn right, I won’t.”

“And you’re definitely not going on a date—”

“Wait, why?”

“Because.”

I turned around to fully face him. “What do you mean ‘because’?”

“Just because,” Tim made a vague gesture with his hand. “You know.”

“No. As a matter of fact, I don’t know.”

“You know,” He gestured again. “Because.”

“Because what?”

“You’re chronically single.”

“What?!”

Tim threw himself on one of the sofas that was turned towards the closet and sank into it. “Chronically single. Chronically, meaning in a persistent and recurring—”

“I know what chronically single means!”

“Then you know.”

“I’m not chronically single!”

“How long ago was your last relationship and how long did it last?”

“That does not mean I’m chronically single! I get bitches all the time!”

“Perhaps, Master Jason, refraining from referring to your partners in a demeaning manner might be the first step to improving your romantic aptitudes.”

“I don’t– I’m not– Ugh!”

“Try this suit on. I think it will be the closest to your current measurements.”

I took the suit from his hand and closed the closet door behind me.

“So,” Tim said, “If you’re not going to a gala, you’re not going to a date, then where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

“It’s not a birthday, because I’m pretty sure none of your friends is an Aquarius–”

He kept talking and I tuned him out. The pants were a bit too tight around the knees, so they would have to fix that, and the jacket sleeves were a little too short. Besides that, I liked the red lining inside, as well as the flower pattern that almost disappeared into the black. It wasn’t very on the theme, and I would risk looking a bit christmassy, but it would be worth it. I did need a neon green handkerchief, though.

“It can’t be Two-Face, because he is still in Arkham and also not your usual target. Black Mask has been quiet, so maybe him,” Tim was, somehow, still talking.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, opening the closet door to let Alfred take a look.

“People you might be planning to make a move against in a place where a suit might be necessary.”

“Maybe I just want a suit, ever thought of that?”

“You’re fitting it over armor,” Tim pointed out.

“Touché.”

“Tt, it’s too tight around your knees,” Alfred commented.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Oh, Alfred? Do you by any chance have a neon green handkerchief?”

Alfred made a face. “I do not own any monstrosity of that sort, Master Jason. Why do you ask?”

“Because the theme is Black, White and Neon Green.”

“Wait, you’re actually crashing a party?”

Alfred sighed and made another disgusted face. “In that case… This suit won’t do.”

“Sorry, Alfred. I didn’t write the dress code.”

“Of course not, Master Jason. I would expect that you would have a better sense for fashion than that.”

“And for your information, I’m not crashing a party. I was invited. Not that you know what that’s like, Stalker.”

“Who would invite you to anything?!”

“Not telling.”

“C’mon!”

“Perhaps the Zegna will look less… clown-like with a neon green handkerchief than the Armani,” Alfred said, mostly to himself.

“Did I hear, Armani?” Selina’s honey-dripping voice came from the corridor, and she poked her head inside the room. “What are you boys doing hiding here?”

“I’m getting fitted for a suit.”

“He is going to a party and I’m trying to figure out which one,” Tim answered at the same time as me.

“Oh! That sounds fun! Do you need help, Alfred?” She asked and slid into the sofa next to Tim.

“I’m afraid I am at a loss, Miss Kyle. The theme of the evening is Black, White and, ugh, Neon Green.”

She made a face very much like Alfred’s own. “Where are you going, Kit Kat? The Riddler’s birthday isn’t until July.”

“Not telling you, either.”

She pouted and pulled Tim’s face near her own, he understood what she was doing a minute later and pouted too. “Please?” They said, like children.

“Nope. Not happening.”

Selina shrugged it off, not particularly bothered, but Tim seemed to still be fixated on the issue. 

“Have you tried that Slim-fit Hugo Boss brown suit, Alfred? I think it will make him look distinguished amongst the neon green aberration,” she said.

“Is it a winter party of some kind?” Tim asked.

“Not giving you any tips, Timmy.”

“Actually, Master Jason, that could help us find a better suit.”

I sighed. “I don’t think it is specifically a winter party. I think it's just a coincidence.”

“So it is a celebration of some kind!”

“I’m. Not. Telling. You.”

“No need. I will find out eventually.”

Alfred brought out the Hugo Boss brown suit and held it up for Selina to see. 

“I think it will clash, Miss Kyle,” he said.

“I think you’re right, Alfred,” She tapped one manicured finger to her lips. “This party is not of someone we know. Is it, Kit Kat?”

I shrugged.

“Why do you say that, Selina?” Tim asked.

“Motherly instincts.”

The door behind them opened again, this time to reveal a mildly disgruntled looking Bruce. His hair was a mess and he was wearing a sweater and sweatpants. He was definitely sick.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Are you sick, old man?”

He sniffed. “Seasonal allergies.”

“Jason is getting fitted for a suit,” Selina answered.

“Oh?”

“And I’m trying to find out why.”

“Oh.”

“You guys are nosy,” I said.

Alfred brought out another slim-fit suit and both Selina and Bruce made a face. “Yes, I imagined so,” Alfred said, disappointed.

“What kind of party is it, chum?”

“Not telling.”

“The theme is Black, White and Neon Green,” Selina said, and both her, Alfred and Bruce grimaced.

“Jason, please tell me you’re not going to the Riddler’s birthday party.”

“Of course, he isn’t, silly. The Riddler’s birthday is July 21st.”

“Oh! Should I send a present?”

“It would be very polite,” Alfred said and Selina agreed.

“If this party is of someone we don’t know then it must be someone you met recently or a very long time ago. But if it was from someone you used to know, you probably wouldn’t be using an expensive suit, and if it was someone new we would have heard of it already,” Tim said.

“What makes you think it is someone we don’t know?” Bruce asked.

Selina raised her hand with a cheeky smile. “If we knew them already, little Kit Kat wouldn’t be so worried about imprrrressing them. We would have embarrassed him already.”

“I’m not worried about impressing anyone.”

“You’re getting fitted for a suit,” she pointed out.

“Yes, because I outgrew all my other suits and I can’t wear them with the armor. It’s not as if I’m buying a new one,” I rolled my eyes.

“If you’re wearing your armor are you worried about being attacked?” Bruce asked.

“Is it a mission then?” Tim asked. “Otherwise, why would you be going to a place where you might be attacked?”

“Good point, champ.”

“I’m not answering any of those questions.”

Bruce pondered for a second. “Have you tried the gray Kiton wool suit? It might null a bit of the neon green.”

“Ooh. Good idea, love.”

“Let’s see if you’re correct, Master Bruce.”

“I’m texting Dick to see if he knows anything.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Father, have you seen Alfred Jr?” Damian’s voice rang from the corridor.

“Not really, Dami.”

“He is probably in that warm spot in the library where the sun hits just right,” Selina said and stretched as if she could feel the warmth from here.

“Thank you, miss Kyle,” Damian poked his head inside. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re welcome, Damian.”

“I live here.”

“Do you?” Bruce asked.

“Do you?” Damian asked, fully walking into the room.

You see? This is why I can’t tell them anything about this ball. Or else they will want to come with, they are nosy like that, I’d have to explain to every cute person I meet why I brought my entire family with me when the invitation didn’t even have ‘plus one’ on it.

Jesus, maybe Selina was right.

“Master Jason is getting fitted for a new suit, Master Damian,” Alfred said and held the gray wool suit.

“Yeah, that doesn’t do it either,” Selina said.

“What is wrong with the suit?”

“The theme is Black, White and Neon Green.” Everyone grimaced at that. They really needed to stop repeating the same thing over and over.

“What is the occasion?”

“Kit Kat won’t tell us.”

“Nope.”

“I’ve talked to Dick!” Tim announced. “He has no idea who could be, but his best guest is someone Jason met with the Outlaws! So I’m going to text Cass, so she can text Artemis and see if she was invited to anything.”

Damian sat on the opposite arm of the sofa and pondered.

“How much have you narrowed it down?”

“Someone we don’t know, someone dangerous, possibly on a mission, not a winter party,” Bruce said.

“Birthday?”

“No gift.”

“Maybe it’s someone I don’t know enough to buy a gift to,” I said, just to throw them off.

The three of them narrowed their eyes at me.

“Yup, talked to Artemis. She doesn’t know anything,” Tim said. “Also Dick is calling.”

He put it on speaker so everyone could suffer together.

“Hey, guys!”

“Hey, chum.”

“Hello.”

“Hey, birdie.”

“Sup?”

“Jesus Christ,” I rubbed my temples. I could feel a migraine coming up.

“Jason! The man, the myth, the legend! Will you tell your big bro where exactly you’re going? I promise to keep it a secret.”

“Not even on your deathbed.”

Alfred brought out another suit. It was also gray and it still did not match neon green.

“C’mon, Little Wing! Don’t be like that! It can be that bad for us to know.”

“It’s out of principle.”

“That reminds me,” Tim said. “Dick, go screw yourself.”

Alfred made a face at that, but didn’t comment anything.

“Wait, why? What did I do?”

“Why did you tell Jason to ‘act like a big brother’? He touched all of my stuff!”

“I’m sure he didn’t touch all of it.”

“Oh, I didn’t look under the bed, but besides that? It will be very funny when you start finding the glitter.”

“What?!”

“Ah, is that why Jon found a lot of superboy merch I did not buy in my closet?” Damian asked. “Well, I must say that is not a good prank. I’m not embarrassed to say I’m my best friend’s biggest fan. Though, he did cry.”

“You say that now, because you haven’t found the bees.”

“What bees?”

I simply smiled. This wouldn’t work on most of my siblings, but Damian was small enough to be fooled and once he believed it, the others would follow.

“I swear to God, Jason. If I find glitter on my clothes I’m putting a skunk inside your house,” Tim said.

There was also no glitter, but now he would check everything first. Forever.

“Why would you do that to a poor innocent animal?” I said, to be contrary.

“Yeah, Tim. Leave the animals alone! It’s not their fault Little Wing started a prank war.”

“Yes, Drake. I’m disappointed you’d even think about this.”

Alfred brought out a deep blue suit. Selina sighed and slumped down the sofa and Bruce shook his head.

“Hey, Dick,” I asked. “Do you have any suits that might fit me and that will look good with neon green?”

“Why do you ask? Don’t tell me Poison Ivy is your plus one.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

“Poison Ivy is light green, not neon,” Tim said.

“And Ivy is too old for you,” Bruce said, pointedly. I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t think I’d have anything either way.”

There was a moment of silence while everyone considered, perhaps the color neon green or perhaps Poison Ivy.

“I figured it out!” Damian shouted suddenly. Selina flinched from the noise, and he apologized quickly. “Sorry. But I have figured it out.”

“What?” Everyone asked. I wasn’t particularly worried, it’s very hard for the little brat to have known about a King I wasn’t even aware of. Though, maybe Ra’s did know it before me.

“Regular-fit Dark Grey Virgin Wool Serge from Hugo Boss,” Damian said profoundly.

“What?” Tim asked.

“The suit that will go with neon green.”

Alfred, Selina and Bruce thought it out. “Yes, I believe that might work, Master Damian.”

“Good job, son,” Bruce said, making my insides twist painfully.

Selina simply raised her hand over Tim’s head so Damian could high five her.

“That still doesn’t answer where he is going!”

“Who would do a Neon Green party? Besides the Riddler, his birthday isn’t until July.”

“How do you even– No, actually, I don’t want to know. Thanks for the help, Demon Brat.”

“You’re welcome. Now tell us where you’re going.”

Fair enough. “To a birthday party,”

“Goddammit! It was the first thing I crossed off!”

“Of whom?”

“None of your business, old man.”

“C’mon, tell us Little Wing.”

“What are we trying to find out?” Duke asked, walking into the room. “And why is everyone here?”

“Jason is going to a birthday party and he won’t tell us who's is jt,” Tim said.

“Oh?”

“And I’m getting a suit fitted.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, though. I’ll tell you whose birthday it is later.”

“Hey!”

“Wait, why?”

“Yes, why him?”

“Oh, Duke is my favorite.”

Duke smiled innocently at all the people in the room and did a little twirl.

“That’s not fair!”

“Hey, this is your fault. You told me to be an older sibling.”

“Older siblings don’t pick favorites!”

“Of course they do. Damian is your favorite, I’m Cass’ favorite, Duke is my favorite, and Tim is no one’s favorite.”

“Screw you!”

“Don’t worry. When Bruce adopts another one you can be their favorite.”

“I’m not adopting anyone.”

Everyone in the room raised an eyebrow at that — yet another thing they got from Alfred — and Selina patted his hand. “Whatever you say, love.”

Alfred fitted the suit perfectly, to the point where that one guy on twitter that talks about male clothing would applaud. And he did find a neon green handkerchief, though he would only buy it if I promised to burn it afterwards, which I swiftly agreed to. I considered bringing a present, but something I learned from the filthy rich is that it’s always better to look like an asshole rather than a fool.

And so the suit saga ends and the ball saga begins.

One would think that an interdimensional being called the Ghost King would think of better ways to direct his guests towards his party than a set of coordinates and another number, which I quickly realized to be the hour in military time. Of course, one would be wrong. So me, my bike, my beautiful suit and my weapons directed ourselves to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, literally in the middle of Nevada's desert.

God, I am going to arrive at this party covered in sand.