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lovecarisi · 9 months ago

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Mistakes We Knew We Were Making

Chapter 5: In Vino Veritas

Summer has been good to you. There’s a group of eight of you that has established over the past few weeks; street fairs in your neighborhoods, concerts, pub visits, Coney Island and rooftop bars. Wherever you end up, it’s with your people, and Dominick is obviously either coming along with you or one of the guys. They all know you’re, well, whatever it is you are. Not actually dating but something like it. No one is asking questions although Louisa is giving you the look all the damn time. The look that says ‘Girl, what are you doing?‘ and ‘Be careful!‘ But you ignore her, and it’s not like it’s hard when Dominick is around. At some point you always end up wandering away to kiss, sneaking off to make out, and then you disappear altogether before you end up at your place or his, whichever is closest.

4th of July is coming up and you guys have rented a big cabin upstate for three days to celebrate. It’ll be the last hurrah before the Bar exams. So naturally you’re immensely looking forward to this even though you’re nervous. It’ll be strange sharing a room with Dominick but there’s no other way to sort out the sleeping arrangement and you’re not going to send him sleeping on the sofa or an air mattress. It’s definitely odd hanging out with other people who are dating because you see how different it is. They’re all holding hands in public, being all cuddly with each other. It’s not that you envy them but admittedly, it’s awkward. Dominick doesn’t seem to care or he is just as good as you are at pretending he doesn’t notice. No one decided that you had to be this way about it but it is what it is. Not that it wouldn’t be nice to be close all the time. Not that you don’t appreciate what you have with him. There’s still an intimacy. You do lean in. You do let your fingers brush over his skin every chance you get. He does wrap his arms around your waist. And his hand does glide up your thigh under the table. But it’s small, it’s delicate, it’s hidden. It’s between Dominick and you, no one else.

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‘It’s a bit weird, isn’t it?’ You put your bag down on the bed and stare at him.

‘What do you mean?’ he asks but he knows exactly what you mean, annoying little shit.

‘Us shacking up.’

‘Oh, come on.’ Dominick chuckles. ‘We can play house for the weekend. It’s not a big deal.’

Yeah, I can’t be sober for this, you think to yourself. This is already making you way more anxious than it should be. Here you are in a room with Dominick and he’s unpacking his clothes like he’s moving in with you, and all of a sudden it bothers you how neat he is for a man. And you want to slap yourself. It’s not fair that you feel like this. It’s not his fault. Maybe you should fuck. Hard. Fast. Get it out of your system before you go downstairs and start partying. Because there’s something in the air you don’t want there. You casually pull off your dress and throw it at him, and he looks up.

‘Right now?’ he asks, his eyes wandering over your naked body.

‘Right now.’ you say, pretty much leaping across the bed at him.

You’ve already come to the conclusion that everything can be solved with sex when it comes to the two of. Sad? Sex. Mad? Sex. Confused? Sex. Stressed? Sex. Insert whichever mood here. Sex. It works every time. Sometimes it makes it worse but at least you had amazing, mind-blowing sex. This is probably why you could never work as a couple. No serious discussions would ever happen because there could be no actual solutions. There would just be a lot of fucking.

Like right now. You, on the edge of the bed in front of him, biting your lip as you unzip his jeans in a hurry, stroking him to hardness which doesn’t take much effort. Dominick, pushing you back on the mattress, happy you didn’t bother with underwear but his hands still touching you everywhere - just not there yet. You’re always in so much more of a hurry than he is. And he always laughs at your impatience. And you always curse him for it. You wiggle under him until you’re on your stomach, raising your hips.

‘Come on, fuck me.’ you instruct him and he sighs, knowing he can’t refuse anyway.

He grabs you roughly but it’s what you want and he knows it. By now, he knows everything. You two have done this enough times to know exactly what kind of mood the other is in, the ways you like it, when, how, where. Dominick knows you’re wet enough for him to push into you without warming you up first, and you moan a string of yes’s into the mattress loudly as confirmation, adjusting to his size. He knows not to be slow and gentle but fast and hard, he knows it won’t take you long to climax but he starts rubbing your clit in tight circles, intensifying your pleasure. Truth is, he loves taking you whichever way and he gets a kick out of you letting him take the lead as much as the other way round. And yes, he prefers looking at your face when you cum but there’s something about your wet, stretched pussy pushing back on his cock when he fucks you from behind that drives him absolutely wild. The way you get when you moan ‘please Dominick, harder’ and he digs his fingers into you, picking up the pace, his dick so deep inside your throbbing walls the bed is shaking. The sounds you’re making are obscene but it’s turning him on even more, and neither of you care if your friends can hear you.

‘Fuck yes, Dominick! Just like that, yes! So good! So so fucking good! Oh myyy goooood!’ you yelp, your hands grabbing the sheets, trying to hold on.

‘Babe, you feel so incredible!’ he softly slaps your ass before squeezing it and it makes you giggle, you love it when he gets like that, his feral side showing.

And vice versa. Before Dominick, you always felt degraded in this position, mostly because it was never on your terms whereas now it is. So with him, it’s the hottest thing. You love being his, completely. You love being used by him like you’re his little toy while not feeling used. It’s such a turn-on. You’re each other’s playthings. The view he has must be so fucking hot. The way he feels pounding into your soaking wet pussy, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, it’s like you and him are made for each other. Fitting perfectly together like pieces of a puzzle. You meet his rough thrusts, pushing back on him, eliciting those deep moans from him, and soon you are both panting messes, close to your orgasms. He lets go of your hips, letting you set the rhythm, his fingers still on your pulsing clit, keeping pressure there and the sensations you feel are quickly becoming too much. You cry into the bed, shuddering, begging him please, please, please, before falling apart. You cum hard, a scream escaping your lips, thankfully muffled by the sheets scrunched up in your hands, and Dominick still fucks into you ferociously, a mixture of curse words and your name leaving his mouth in moans. Your vision fades to black as your pussy continues to pulse around him while you feel him cum too, grabbing you hard and burying his dick deep into your quivering cunt, releasing himself. His moans truly are the sexiest sounds you ever heard from a man, and the fact you are the reason for it makes you feel like you are on top of the world, elevating your orgasm even more.

‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’ he pulls out and collapses next to you, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

Your face is still buried in the sheets and you feel like you may need minutes, hours even before you can catch your breath. Your whole body is still shaking, like electricity is running through it, the center of it being between your legs. And you don’t even know how much time passes before Dominick nudges you.

‘We should probably, you know, take a shower and go downstairs. Join the others.’

‘I don’t think I can. I can’t feel my legs.’ you joke with a smile, blinking up at him from under your hair.

‘Sounds like a serious medical condition.’ he looks at you sweetly, pushing all that hair away from your face.

‘Sounds like you fucked the living shit out of me.’ you reply, leaning in for a kiss, realizing it’s the first one you’ve shared today even though you just, well, fucked the living shit out of each other.

Dominick kisses you back deeply, pulling you on top of him, arms wrapped around you tightly, feeling the same significance of it.

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‘Well, how nice of you two to join us.’ Louisa says, glaring at Dominick and you as you walk into the open downstairs area.

It’s already 6pm. She’s behind the small bar, mixing a drink and the others are outside by the water, you can only hear muffled voices and laughter. It’s only been an hour but it’s pretty obvious, to her anyway. Everyone else has already had plenty of alcohol and probably doesn’t care. Not that you or Dominick do.

‘Yeah, well we had a lot to unpack.’ you grin, looking at Dom, who just takes a sip of his beer, giving you a cheeky side-eye.

‘I bet you did. You want a drink?’ she asks, grabbing the Vodka.

‘Do your worst.’ you reply.

‘I’ll see you out there.’ Dominick says, slightly tugging on one of the strings of your bikini before walking out to join the others, giving you some space with your best friend.

Louisa loves Dominick. She adores him. She thinks he’s the one for you. And you told her to zip it. Which she did. She’s the only one who knows what happened in your past relationship, how it still kind of haunts you today. The mind games Daniel played with you, the way he manipulated you, gaslit you. How long it took you to free yourself of him and how much you now loved being single, free, independent. That no man had control over you, could tell you what to do. You downplayed it but Louisa called it abuse. Maybe it was. Maybe it was some sort of trauma you had to deal with. The couple of times he had slapped you, you hadn’t felt victimized, and the last time you had slapped him back, and that had been it. You had left.

However, the other stuff had been worse for you. It had started small, with him suggesting what clothes you should wear. And in the end you didn’t even realize that he chose your entire wardrobe, you thought it was an act of love, his attention to detail. ‘Oh he just loves to coordinate outfits.’ you would say. And when you picked a red lipstick instead of a nude one he would get so pissed, and at the end of the night there would be a massive argument. Or it would be over the fact that you talked too much, that you made him look stupid in front of his colleagues, dinner guests, whoever. You always had to dumb yourself down, ‘Just look pretty and shut the fuck up.’ he would say. And you were never good enough anyway. Your tits were too small yet if you were wearing a showy dress you looked slutty and he told you to cover up. You weren’t tall enough yet if you were wearing heels you looked like a hooker. And of course, he called your ambitions to become a human rights lawyer childish, and told you to go into finance like him. You couldn’t recognize yourself anymore. It took interventions from your friends and that one last slap across the face for you to finally leave. The worst thing of it all? Your family had adored him. Saw him as the ideal future son-in-law. You had never confided in them, not even in your brother, who you usually told everything to. It was too embarrassing, you were too ashamed. Your mother had taught you to be a strong woman, a feminist, and in your eyes, you had let yourself, and her, down.

Afterwards you solely focused on your studies. Fordham more or less absorbed you. Your friends didn’t see you for months unless it was in class, you didn’t visit your family in Connecticut, it was just you and the books. Everyone was studying for the Bar anyway so it didn’t matter and you had a good excuse to become a hermit. Until that Memorial Day weekend in the Hamptons. That fateful weekend.

With Dominick, you feel like a different person. Not the person all of this happened to. In a way, you can pretend you’re not that person. He makes you feel all the things Daniel never had. But you also know that you can’t depend on a man to make you feel these things. So in the end that’s exactly why you can’t be with him. There’s too much baggage. You can’t bring it into something new. It would fuck with everything.

‘You really can’t help yourselves, huh?’ Louisa hands you your drink, shaking her head with a smirk, obviously referring to Dominick and you.

You shrug, looking at him, outside in the sun. Yes, it would be nice if he was all yours. In a way he is. But only in a way. You can pretend, at least. But you can’t pretend he doesn’t make your heart beat faster. You can’t pretend you don’t long for him when he’s not with you, that you don’t long for what you don’t have with him. You can’t pretend you don’t wish things were different sometimes; that you two had started off more conventionally. But you can’t change it now. It’s clear where he stands, you made the rules, you drew the line in the sand. It’s better like this for the both of you. And it’s most likely just the sex anyway; messing with your head.

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‘You could help a little bit?’ Dominick sighs, but you just giggle, slapping his arm away.

You’re drunk. Not naked wasted drunk but drunk. A little bit more than tipsy drunk. You can definitely still walk but you decided that Dominick should carry you anyway because he’s such a strong man. Thing is, you’re both wet because you had just been in the hot tub and it’s slippery, and you still have a glass of wine in your hand and a towel wrapped around you. It’s a logistical nightmare. Truth is, he’s slightly annoyed with you because you got flirty with him and he wanted to kiss you but you wouldn’t let him. It’s not like he wanted to make out in the hot tub, all he wanted was a kiss. So you ended up drinking more wine and started making out with him after all and then it got too much for him and he told you to stop and then you got annoyed with him. And now he’s annoyed with you because you’re annoyed with him. But you still want him to carry you but you don’t because he’s acting like a dumb boy. It’s not like it was your fault he could feel your nipples through your bikini and got a boner.

‘Ugh, then DON’T!’ you run upstairs and into your room.

You empty your glass in one big gulp and throw yourself down on the bed, Dominick follows, closing the door behind him quietly. He’s not that sober either but a bit more than you, at least.

‘Take me.’ you say, letting your hands glide over your breasts seductively.

‘You’re too drunk, babe.’ he laughs, leaning against the door, shaking his head.

‘So? I was drunk the night we met.’ you reply, untying your top and disposing of it on the floor.

‘We were both tipsy, not drunk. If I fucked you right now that would be taking advantage.’

‘Oh please, Mister Lawyer Man, take advantage of me.’ you giggle, not taking him seriously for a second. If anything, you’re getting more annoyed. ‘Please, I want you so bad, I want you to fuck me. Please baby, please.’

Dominick seems amused by you begging like that but doesn’t stop you as you shed your wet bikini bottoms. After all he’s just a man, a man who wants you. He can’t deny it.

‘Not like this. We can when we sober up. You need to go to bed and sleep, okay? Come on.’ He grabs your legs and lifts the covers to attempt to get you into bed but you start whining.

‘Dominick, you are so fucking hot, please. I need you. I want you. Like, you are sooooooooo hot. I need you to please fuck me right now.’ You kick the sheets away and grab his arms, trying to pull him on top of you but he fights you off.

‘Listen to me. Not when you’re this drunk, okay. I can’t. I wouldn’t feel good about that.’

‘Ughhhhhh.’ You fall back into the pillow with resignation. ‘Why do you have to be like this? Huh? Why do you have to be so good? So proper? So decent? Why can’t you be like any other man, taking advantage of a woman in my state?’

‘Well, because I’m not like that, okay. And we can do this anywhere, anytime, you know that. Just not like this. I’m gonna get you a glass of water, and we’re gonna go to sleep. And if you’re not too hungover in the morning, I promise, we’ll have hot, crazy sex.’ he disappears into the bathroom and you feel so stupid, so lame, like the biggest loser on the planet.

He gets under the covers with you and it’s like your brain goes into overdrive and you know you should stop it but you can’t. You know you’re gonna regret it in the morning, unless you won’t remember, please God, don’t let me remember, you think.

‘You’re a good man, you’re such a good man, Dominick. You’re gonna make a good husband one day. You’re gonna meet a good woman and be such a good husband to her and that woman is not gonna be me. Because I’m a mess and I don’t deserve a man like you. I mean, I put out on the first night like a slut and good women don’t do that and you deserve a good woman.’

‘Stop talking, okay. You’re talking nonsense. You need to try and go to sleep.’

‘You think you like me so much but it’s just because I let you fuck me on the first night we met, that’s all it is, Dominick, believe me. There’s nothing special about me. It’s all in your head. Because men are all the same at the end of the day, you all think with your dicks, you think you have feelings for someone but you don’t. You just get cunt-drunk, is all. You have to stop obsessing over me.’

‘Okay, sure. Whatever you say. Go to sleep now.’ he says, turning away from you and there’s never really been this much space between you.

And you didn’t notice that sound in his voice because you were too caught up with your own shit, and even if you had, you wouldn’t have known what it meant. There’s too many drunken thoughts swimming through your head right now, too many, and none of them are making any sense. You don’t understand why he turned away from you like this. You want him to hold you and hug you and kiss you. At the same time you want him to be gone forever. Never see him again in your life. It would be easier like that. In fact, you wish you had never met him; had never given in to your desire that night. It was so out of character for you, whatever possessed you that night, it was wrong, all sorts of wrong. No matter how good it felt, no matter how good it feels all the damn time with him. It’s true what you said. At the end of the day, he’s too good of a man for you. Does that mean you want him to be the man for you? It doesn’t matter anymore.

When you fall asleep you don’t even know what you said anymore. All you remember is that you started crying. And finally felt his arms around you, a whispered ‘Shh’ in your ear. More crying. His lips on your temple. And lots of fucked up dreams.

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thank you so much to my betareader for this chapter @pascalispretty aka The Rose of the Reach on AO3 please check out her works!)

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@plaidbooks :)

#dominick carisi #dominick carisi x reader #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi #svu #law and order svu #svu fanfiction #carisi fic #carisi smut #carisi fan fic #carisi x reader

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thelonelyarchon · 1 year ago

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PICTURE PERFECT(guy)ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ִ ࣪𖤐

ARTEM WING - the one and only stellis's ace and youngest senior attorney. though he's focused on his career and winning cases, due to his immense popularity in both the country and online, he has built a social following. to be honest, he doesn't have a clue on how to act online. he mainly tweets and posts whatever he likes. extremely awkward. helpless (help this mf pls!). always is the butt of the joke when it comes to romance. serious buff office guy. addicted to coffee. tweets like an old grandpa. y'know, the types to just tweet what they're doing atm no matter how random it is. probably will post detailed reviews of movies he's watched (ofc, he acts as if he's not a well know movie creator with his other persona). DRIVES AN SUV AND A RACE CAR! filthy rich. filthy powerful too.

ROSA - probably artem's most trusted person. as his colleague and partner, they've developed a relationship that's akin to both friends, colleagues and lovers. whichever you prefer. even nixx men are confused whether or not artem likes her or not. spoiler: she has a thing for luke. she's responsible for telling celestine everything that's happening in the case. always the person who seems to make artem more popular to the girls. rumored girlfriend of artem. loves anything plushie! lovers dessert too. has a thing for violins. always the one who'll out him. treats the nixx team like they're her kids. acts like their mom too! mediator of the group when shit goes down in the nixx gc.

LUKE PEARCE - everybody knows that he's scared of artem. not really scared, but more of he's seen artem seething with fury and he's vowed not to be the one receiving it. tends to tease artem together with rosa. butt of the joke most of the time. prefers to focus on bright side of things. he's a literal sunshine! he makes sure everyone is healthy and safe. quick and smart too. he's like the dad of the group.

VYN RICHTER - he probably gets into fights with artem frequently, with marius fuelling the fight 95% of the time. he's usually the one that acts too cool for artem, usually using his two degrees to make artem shut up in an argument. loves perfume. he's the resident therapist of the group and usually he's the one they run to for romantic advice. he wondes why when he's single and has never even dated anyone. emotionally reserved. has an air of sophistication around him. 100% can read artem, though. they often think of the same thing and get each other through visual or verbal cues. he is closest with his sister, y/n. regularly keeps tabs on her for her safety.

MARIUS VON HAGEN - causes most inconvenience in the group chat, with his butler vincent cleaning up after his mess most of the time. he loves to annoy people in the gc. definitely loves to play the "younger brother" card. the crackhead of the group. 100% lost in between conversation. usually the one who's first to hear news of this and that. most fashionable member. even if he's by the far the not-so-favorite team member, they appreciate him for being a big help during nixx cases. he enjoys posting online whenever they get together. he's usually the loud one in the gc.

masterlist

#lily's corner | soc med au 🧸☁️₊˚⊹⋆#artem wing #artem wing x reader #artem wing x y/n #tot rosa #marius von hagen #luke pearce #vyn richter #tears of themis #tears of themis smau #smau #tot luke #tot artem #tot marius #tot vyn

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sleepy-bunbun-ace · 1 year ago

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twst headcanons

+facts for my yuus and ocs at the end

grim takes catnaps throughout the day. you'll find him sprawled out in the sun, sleeping. cuddles with whoever is closest and then denies it when he wakes up. to be honest, he just acts like a cat and then denies it.

ace is transfem and has always known since she was little. she only kept playing the role of a guy since her brother was the only guy from 5 kids. she feels out of place in the first year friend group but doesn't admit it. if she actually put in effort, she could fistfight god.

deuce was actually told multiple times the eggs he eats aren't fertilized ones. he never seemed to listen. he's one of the best at making makeshift bandages with whatever he can find thanks to his delinquent past. melts into a puddle at any affection (especially from ace).

riddle is also transfem but she didn't figure it out until ace came out to her. she's still trying to figure things out about her personality as she tries to unlearn the toxic habits her mother built into her. a really big bundle of nerves when she doesn't know what to do.

trey seems like just a regular guy until you look deeper. there's nothing dark, he's just weird. he's watched all of the barbie movies multiple times thanks to his siblings. he's the one who wakes up first in the entire dorm.

cater will sometimes go into this state of constant confusion which is strange for someone who needs to be in the know at all times. really only plays up his crush on vil for the bit. he's actually aromatic.

jack has a cactus named after each of the first years plus whichever prefect is present. he can be a good liar for when the time calls but he usually sucks. constantly mistaken for being older than first year age.

ruggie almost lost his arm when leona used his unique magic on it. he just has this cool scar that runs up his entire arm now. pretty well informed about what's happening around nrc. multitasking king.

leona cares about his dorm and the spelldrive team so much, he's just embarrassed to admit it. actually does care about cheka a lot but he's just really bad at showing it so it just comes off as indifference (which messes cheka up in my artist!cheka au). rivals silver in how heavy sleepers they are.

floyd won't squeeze you if you tell him you're uncomfortable with it. he'll be sad for a few days but will ultimately just find another way to bother you in a way that you're okay with. can make a lot of weird sounds.

jade's mushroom thing has been going on since he first learned about them. it was going to be geodes if mushrooms hadn't caught his eyes. forgets to blink sometimes.

azul has actually terrible balance but refuses to admit it. he also forgets to breath sometimes at the most random moments. once he was read all the OSHA violations the lounge violated. it took four hours to get through them all.

jamil has a really complicated relationship with all the skills he's learned being kalim's servant. on one hand he hates that he had to learn these skills at all, on the other he's grateful he knows them. he tries to stay out for as long as possible by keeping himself busy with something. almost developed a caffeine addiction.

kalim has accepted that one day he will die. he knows he will die far before the age he wishes to live to so he decided to live life to the fullest. the amounts of kidnappings and attempted murders he's been through would've been far higher if he wasn't so alert to them. loves to give gifts out to others.

epel had a wrestling career in harveston. he was the most feared fighter in his age group. very much fears his mother and grandmother (southern moms are scary). sneaks out when things get too much (it happens a lot).

rook is pretty good at keeping unwanted people away. this man's aura is on another level, nobody wants to go near him. cried for weeks on end after vil wouldn't let him touch him after the vdc betrayal. do you guys think he panicked when he realized he let two freshman, especially one from his dorm, follow him to rescue the others?

vil sometimes struggles getting a work-life balance in order with all of his responsibilities. how do celebrities do it? is constantly working to perfect some aspect of his life. sometimes epel will drag him away from whatever he's doing to take a break.

ortho does get annoyed with how overprotective idia is. especially now that he's becoming his own person, it's hard to develop a personality with your brother hovering over you. loves to spend time with all of the first years and has a folder dedicated to each of them. he loves discovering things about himself.

idia does not have rhythm at all. do not let those scores on rhythm games confuse you at all. somehow he attracts women as seen in the ghost marriage event. at some point the rest of the housewardens made a book to translate what he says.

sebek does have a secret soft spot for the other first years. he'll do little things for them that he wouldn't do for other students. is so insecure about his position in the whole diasomnia family thing but he never brings it up. can actually curse others but keeps it a secret so he can surprise his enemies.

silver can probably understand animals. that hasn't been tested yet but all evidence points to yes. he competes with leona for heaviest sleeper in nrc. would collect plushies and sleep in a pile of them.

lillia will often go into each of the main diasomnia boys' dorms to see if they're alright. it's an old habit that's come to use many times before. do not let his actions fool you, he is a dumbass. photobombed so many students, always intentionally.

malleus fell in love with gargoyles at first sight. he saw them and decided that he must know everything about them. hoards things that belong to the rest of the diasomnia boys that he knows they don't use anymore. photobombed so many student, always unintentionally.

yuu absolutely loves to make clothes for people. it can be so relaxing at times. resident kaiju expert thanks to an old family friend. only yuu who still has their og phone from before the isekai.

yume asta keeps up idol work even after being sent to another world. her work can't stop just because they're in another world. constantly feels the need to prove they belong at nrc until they can go home. unknowingly adopted by crewel.

alexander goldenheart's personality is "based off" of akechi goro. third semester specifically. is weirdly knowledgeable in stuff that teenagers shouldn't know. you didn't hear it from me, but there's rumors going around he's actually 18 and from-

sue times is the white rabbit of heartslabyul. surprisingly, his um is completely unrelated to the white rabbit. used to act before something happened. close friends with alex and looks up to him a lot.

yume rosalia is sooooo eepy. the eepiest ever. knows idia well due to how many times their body has been damaged and needed repairs. really sneaky and has accidentally surprised rook by being sneaky.

silvester hatter is based on both book and movie sophie. her looks are post-movie sophie based while her personality is leans more towards book sophie. is the only yuu/isekai'd person to currently be in a romantic relationship. doesn't necessarily keep her magic a secret, but doesn't tell anyone about it either.

harper pendragon is somehow cringeboyfail and girlboss at the same time. it's something pendragons just do. has snuck into the school to be with his darling beloved. is rumored to be a top magician.

yuki (riddle got fucking isekai'd au) can change into an axe. soul eater style. quite the flirt if they have permission from the one they're flirting with. got sorted into pomefiore but sneaks into heartslabyul to be with riddle.

(yuu siblings au)

yukari would be a fourth year the three had been born in twisted wonderland. she had actually just graduated high school when they got isekai'd. she's semi based off of yukari takeba from persona 3. skilled archer since she was in the archery club.

yuuki is the most tech savvy of the three. he may or may not have hacked into his school's database to change his and yukari's grades at some point. loves to let his sisters choose what color to dye his hair. was president of the esports club at his high school.

yume can probably see yokai. she just ignores them and goes about her day. is a skilled photographer and was vice president of the photography club. she's a middle schooler, please stop asking her about high school math.

youko (apocalypse au) is from the little witch academia world. next gen type thing except she's not related to the main cast. randomly finds things in the woods near ramshackle that are super convenient and helpful. waits every day for grim to wake up.

yasu (dystopia au) is the opposite of their name. they are loud and chaotic and unashamed of it. loves putting up the theatrics to 1000%. found ace and decided to stick by her side until they found a way back to their world.

fragaria shortcake is technically a fae by biology standards. how would you even classify tiny fruit people? her pastries rival those of trey so they have a friendly rivalry going on. she's really short by regular people standards (she was actually sized up a lot but not to the point it would change her biologically) so she's usually carried around by the other first years.

xìngyùn xiǎo huì is my xiè lián based yuu. this is because i'm currently reading the novels and watching the donghua. is really just dragged along into the shenanigans. has little nicknames for everyone.

jane doe!yuu was snatched from the warehouse before they could figure out their identity. the mirror was concerned over their lack of soul and identity. can take off their head to scare people. first years are constantly making sure they can make good memories and live a life they deserve to live.

madeline popheart is based off of both mary poppins and mrs frizzle. she's a very eccentric woman. the new general science teacher because i refuse to believe the teachers we see in game are the only ones. actually used to be riddle's babysitter before she got caught giving her some freedom to express herself.

goose is a sky child. as in, sky kid. they and grim literally just snuck back into the school after being kicked out and haven't found out yet. gives candles to their friends.

yurei (small runaways au) cannot remember their actual name. as in, they died with no memory. follows ace around as she's the only one who can fully see it. practically adopted the child runaways as their own.

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erisluna35ocblog · 11 months ago

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Characterization Across AUs: Blair Crawford

THE jerk with a heart of gold.

She's pragmatic. She won't hesitate to use anyone around her to reach her goals... except Blake.

It takes a long time for her to open up.

Much later, Shizuke and Natalia make it to her "people I give a shit about" list. But those two always start off in the "people I could use" list.

She's kind of an introvert, but with a stupid amount of self confidence to socialize.

While she's an all around flirt, she doesn't care or feel in anyway attracted to anyone she's ever hit on. Shizuke's the one exception, but only in stories that give them enough focus to get to that point.

She's a demisexual-demiromantic. If she doesn't have a slowburn going on with Shizuke, then she's not getting any romance at all.

Heck, she'd hit on a guy if it gives her an advantage. But she stays cautiously out of reach, giving suggestions but never letting them close the last inch.

Scheming, cunning, opportunistic and potentially ruthless depending on the setting... But deep down, she's more moral than she'd like to admit. She usually has a noble goal, her methods just aren't always clean. Yet, as she always thinks of the easy way, she doesn't compromise when it comes to the people she gives a shit about. She thinks it holds her back.

The sort of emotionally constipated dum dum who thinks vulnerability is a weakness.

Always the colder, more goal-oriented twin. Some might even call her heartless compared to the quiet Blake. Ironically, she's actually the more moral twin as Blake is secretly more ruthless than her despite his shy demeanor.

In charge of the fanservice. She's a beautiful redhead with a nice figure and ain't afraid to use it. She tends to dress well, unlike her twin.

Strong witch association. Whether it be as a witch's literal familiar via contract or as a black cat... There's a reason I named her Blair.

She tends to owe one of Keagan's evil auntie. Whichever one of them is available in the story.

There's an arc where she clashes with Blake cause one of them switched sides. By the end of it, both twins are on team good.

Fiona will disagree with Blair taking the leader position at first, even though Blair is the most qualified for it. Something about clashing priorities.

Whenever she's tagteaming with Shizuke, her role is often to lure the enemies into the right position for Shizuke to finish them off. Sometimes, they switch things up by having Blair as the tactician making sure nothing gets in the way of Shizuke the close combat specialist.

She prefers wielding long weapons, like staves or spears... or scythes.

Shizuke's first step to her heart always involves him breaking down over whatever tragedy happening to his friends. It's the first time Blair felt sympathy towards him, makes him more than just someone to use. She appreciates his loyalty to his friends. Kaji and Fuyu's sacrifices for Shizuke to score this redhead are never appreciated.

Losing her parents at an early age builds her independent nature.

The beginning of her arch focuses on her death or near-death.

She'll feel disillusioned and used by her other blood relatives once she meets them. They all want something from her, as foretold. Family of oracles and all that. This is why she is so attached to Blake.

She's all about family loyalty. Her fixation on her dead parents made her blind to her found family. She'll see them someday.

She's a cheapskate who'll take free stuff any chance she gets.

She'll somehow bond with Zephyr over the many things they have in common (mischief, love of free stuff, death hanging over their heads, naggy older brothers, idiot family who they're preventing from sacrificing their lives for them...).

She just can't seem to get on the good side of Shizuke's paternal grandparents. But the maternal grandmother is rather fond of her. Heh, she's the most important one anyway, being the one closest to Shizuke.

#og story #ml au #blair crawford

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hydrangeawise · 2 years ago

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Let's go, Madlax EP18! (The preview truly does this thing where they show you the things you want the most and then these things happen at the end of the episode :D)

So! Much! Happened! Firstly, I need to let you know how much I adore Limelda. She is so very straightforward, so idealistic, and it pains me that other characters paint it as being "not as smart" or "not shrewd". She herself said that she is "not shrewd enough to live in a false war" but ungh. I love that about her. I love how she processed the information Madlax gave her, investigated (sort of) on her own to confirm the suspicions, and moved forward. How she said about Madlax that her words are the closest to the truth for her, my heart burst into tiny sparkles! - In all honesty, as much as I like to giggle about her obsession with Madlax, the depth of her dependence on Madlax as a source of stability and truth (again, sort of) and her desire to destroy that/her is so fascinating. (Hm, I also have a small amount of thoughts on the dynamic between Limelda and Blond Guy, but more than that "I didn't know she still had feelings for me" hit me because I didnt't know she had feeling for him at all.)

Secondly, I'm still unsure what to make of Blond Guy's "Leave them be, they're not a threat" since he's playing his own game outside of Enfant's Thing (or at least, he tries to. I'm not sure if he's actually successful about being sneaky, or if Monday Tuesday Friday simply leaves him be because he's not a big threat to the project yet).

And finally, Madlax (beloved)! So the way in which she is different is that she has no Gift, or not The Whole Thing, but A Little Bit? (It's still confusing.) And because she had only A Little Bit she is not worthy of getting in contact with the book (whichever one we're talking about right now, I think it's still about Secondari)? But she's also powerful enough to at least graze Nakhl which she probably shouldn't be able to? I love how, after she met Margaret and they had they're little moment of "We both know Vanessa!" and this sequence of differnt people saying their names (which was visually really cool! I maybe should've tried to remember who said which name in case that was/is of significance but rip to me because I didn't and now I already forgot.), Laetitia basically spelled things out and the two moons and the two shadows were probably a really obvious way to explain what is going on, yet I still sit here in front of my screen, all ?????. (I mean, okay, Madlax believes a false truth, Margaret doesn't know the truth, Laetitia - or the doll - is the truth but is living in a false realm?) Can't wait to have it all spelled out to me many more times before I actually get it!

Edit: I FORGOT TO YELL ABOUT THE PART WHERE MADLAX WAS ALL "Don't deny my existence!" Like, that felt profound! Like it's part of/the core of her being! What is happening with that!!!

#b rambles #madlax

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elpida · 2 years ago

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He refilled the glasses happily. His eyes roamed that home, he saw her in every particle of it and yet, he'd always long for her to truly be there and knew that she never would. In fact, this as the first time he'd actually had another woman in the house at all since she passed. He'd become something of a recluse. He huffed air, let a little smile take over at the inevitable question, what happened to someone that he viewed as bright and welcoming as dawn? How could a man like he, lose his love?

"I wasn't always this kind of hunter that aims to help those that need it.. I was like them, I hated everything supernatural." he admitted with some shame. He wasn't proud of that. "She got bit, wrong place wrong time and a werewolf bit her, they ran and when she told me.. that changed everything. I couldn't hate supernaturals anymore and rather than hate them, I used what I knew to... to help her, with the monthly transition, the anger of it all but the thing was she was everything that went against what we were taught. My wife just wanted to live normally as she always had, live with humans, never wanted to hurt anyone in fact I think she'd have been entirely ruined if she had hurt anyone."

He took a swig, cleared his throat. "We were happy for a long time, I stepped away from hunting and tried to... help supernatural creatures wherever I could." the hard part was coming up, you could tell from the way he stared off into nothing, the way he steeled. "A group of those hunters came to town, I was helping this girl, born werewolf she was having a hard time and when I came home.. my wife was not home, but I knew how to track steps, so I did.. and I found my wife, pinned to a tree with five silver tipped arrows in her body. One of them was in her throat, so she couldn't even.. cry out for my help or.." he breathes slowly through his nostrils and finished off the last of the whisky in his glass in one swig. "I try to do better now because it's what she would want and in the end, it wasn't your kind that killed her... it was what I'd been born into. I think there's a balance, some supernaturals go bad.. but some hunters kill, simply for blood and that makes them just as bad. People lose their way, and I think she'd just want me to fight for whichever side is doing the right thing."

Guy wouldn't say anymore on it, it's clear enough it put him somewhere he never wanted to revisit, he'd not mention how he cradled her for hours or how he kept both of their rings on a chain around his neck, closest to his heart. "Love is fantastic it is, and yet when you loose it.. there's a part of you that wishes that you'd never known it at all. Can't mourn what you don't know."

Felicity nodded her head as he offered her another glass. “Yes please” she said and slid hers over the counter. She had drank hers quite quickly, the evening events needed to be somewhat dimmed by the alcohol.

She only listened as he spoke about his wife, and a part of her felt wistful to feel such a love that he he had felt. It wasn’t something in the cards for her, not really, it was too complicated, too messy for her. She’d had her relationships down the years, her loves, but there was something in the way he spoke about his wife being the dawn in his life, that made her realise that she’d never felt that way, not really. It only made it sadder to her that he’d lost her then.

She smiled as he suggested bookshop owning again, and this time a chain, “that’s the fun thing I guess about being immortal, I’ve all this time to try out everything I would ever want to do…at least in theory, sometimes it doesn’t work out how you planned…it’s not so much the shop or those particular set of people that I miss, but that feeling you know? That homely feeling…that you belong somewhere, that people know you and you know them…that’s what I miss really…I’m not normal, but it’s nice to feel like I am” she said and pushed the chopped pieces into the pan.

She took another sip of her whiskey as they worked, and after awhile she turned to him again. “I hope you don’t mind me asking…and really we don’t have to talk about it…but your wife…” she asked, leading up to the question, and trying to sense if she should stop before she said anything more. “What happened to her?”

#guy&felicity #guy interactions #MY POOR GRIEVING MAN ADLKFJGKLFD #q

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oh-saints · 2 years ago

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the holiday (p.1)

george was supposed to come home and find her sister, cara, and her family. instead, he was left with a beautiful stranger until the british grand prix. with girlfriend no longer in possession and his parents going on a long overdue vacation, it was guaranteed george would have the most interesting break.

[loosely based on the film “the holiday (2006)”]

“why is something so wrong feels so right?”

george russell x architect!OC

word count: 4.2k

tw: mentions of cheating (but not the MCs); loneliness; suggestive contents; fluff? angst?

song: dreaming of you - cigarettes after sex; distance - christina perri; almost is never enough - arianna grande (feat. nathan sykes); august - taylor swift

note: JUST BECAUSE, you know? my kind of cheering myself up after arsenal lost the day before monday. there’s also tons of inaccuracy about george’s family because i believe that’s the private side of his life so i don’t wanna dive too much to that. BUT another GR63 work because watching him racing did me wonders and this is like a bonus because my first attempt to write hit 50 notes (!!), thank you so much guys xx

wisbech.

the place where he grew up, the place where his dream of becoming f1 world champion blossomed. it had been ages since the last time he came up north—his parents had moved down to south to be closer to him as his racing journey started to pick up, his siblings would always come down to his parents’ current abode whenever george was in town (or country, whichever may be the case). his sister, cara, now inherited their old house and lived there with her husband, chris, and her son, jack.

the last time he bothered to drive a long mile to the small city was when he attended jack’s christmas play two years ago, right before the pandemic brought everyone down with it. the season had already ended that time, giving him plenty of time to travel far, and his only nephew had been begging to have him at school—probably to show off to everyone his uncle was the rookie f1 driver everyone had been talking about. but he remembered vividly the calmness of the suburban as he ran his daily 10k one morning, a striking difference to the busy life he’d been leading since he turned 16.

today, he hoped the same tranquillity would wash all over him. the last thing he wanted to have right now was everyone tailing his every move, flashing camera at his face, running mouths to gossip about him—all the jazz that came with the business. he didn’t ask for forever; at least enough amount to have him focused for the next race weekend.

and surrounding yourself with your closest ones always helped. with his parents going on a long overdue trip (thanks, covid) to malta, his sister was the first person to pop into george’s mind after everything fell apart under his nose. as much as benji’s advice never failed, he really didn’t need his brother to laugh at his face first before going full-on serious brother mode, like a typical older brother would do to his younger brother. george would even try to endure chris’ dry jokes and jack’s chatterbox personality if it means that he’d get his piece of mind.

it was already a wonder how george didn’t manage to have a mental breakdown whilst driving to the countryside. he’d been expecting himself to cry, shout, scream—anything to get this heavy rock off his chest—as soon as he was away from the spotlight but he succeeded in reaching his old place just in time as the navsat’s ETA. maybe the title of “mr. consistency” was rightfully given, after all.

well, george doubted any other driver able to finish a grand prix within the top 5 after finding your girlfriend on the bed with another dick that wasn’t yours inside of her just the night before the race. like nothing happened, like it was any other race weekend.

“cara?”

weird. nobody answered him as he continued his way inside.

“chris? jack?”

it wasn’t like cara’s place at all to be this quiet and spotless. everywhere his oldest sibling went, she’d leave a trail of sunshine along her way. this house now felt… too large to be lived in, even though george knew this house had enough of space for more than 3 people.

“anybody home?”

just as george finished the sentence, the typical english cold air swept by him. he turned his head to the direction of the wind, his body went rigid at the thought someone had broken in the house and killed everyone in it like those thriller films, his fists ready to punch anyone who dared to have a go at him. but instead of a robber, his surprise came in another, entirely different form.

an alien woman was certainly not on the list of people who could shock him at that moment.

george was so shell-shocked that he didn’t know which one to digest first. the fact that there was a woman that wasn’t cara at all in cara’s pride of a backyard garden or the fact that the woman was still cantily clad in her sleepwear on a rainy english summer afternoon.

what the fuck is going on?

did he arrive on the wrong address? had cara moved from this house and he didn’t know? did something happen to cara, one that he didn’t know? with george being away so long and so often, his mother would’ve shared things with him so he didn’t feel so left out whenever all of them gathered around.

he was so torn between needing to find out the truth and needing to sit this entire thing down first.

fuck. george cursed himself for not calculating things thoroughly. knowing the press would soon get a sniff of the bombastic breaking news, george immediately texted cara his plans on seeking shelter at her house the day after he landed and turned off his phone right away for (a) safety measures as the mercedes private jet about to take off, and (b) he didn’t have the energy to entertain the badgering from his publicist as soon as he made it on the front page of daily mail.

“well, yes, richard,” the woman-in-question’s voice broke george’s reverie. she sounded so exhausted and angry at the same time. she sounded like him. “i’ve resketched the house from scratch, just as you instructed. what more do you want?”

if george wasn’t so perplexed, he’d definitely give her brownie points. there was something about established women earning off from what her brain was capable of that always nailed george in the heart. no offense to all the models he’d been involved with or all of his fellow f1 drivers’ girlfriend, though.

“with the upcoming deadline, that kind of radical change—you know what, have it your way, richard. demolish everything for all i care. i’m not going to let you ruin my holiday. have a good day.”

this time, the woman-in-question seemed like the one surprised as she turned around, only to find george’s presence looming over the glass door to the backyard. cat got her tongue for a full thirty seconds before she took a deep breath and said, “i’m sorry i didn’t see you there. i take it you must be george, cara’s brother?”

thank god she started to speak because george could feel his brain was having a shortcut circuit error. her back profile, as alluring as it was with all the gentle wind blowing her hair, didn’t do any justice to her front profile. she was breathtaking that george even missed the fact she knew who he was, the fact she might be waiting for him, and the fact that she knew cara (of which should relieve him).

“cara said you texted her you’d be coming when she already departed but couldn’t get a hold of you back, so i should be expecting you sometime today,” george was used to being complimented for having clearest eyes amongst the current f1 drivers but hers far surpassed his. if he wasn’t busy digesting the reality thrown at him, he wouldn’t mind swimming in the pool of her eye colour. “i’m raline, by the way. i’m currently on a house exchange with cara.”

everything was happening at the same time simultaneously and confusingly that george wanted to throw up. was this how aomame of IQ84 felt when she lived through two parallel universes?

“what the hell is house exchange?”

“well, for the next two weeks, she gets to live in my house back in LA, i get to live here. she said she’d try to be at the silverstone, though.”

“why?”

“because we all need some break from normalcy, i suppose?” raline shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious answer. “i mean, our respective long-time partner cheated on us—”

“wait, what?” george’s head hit all-time worst migraine. “cara got cheated on?”

“oh, shit. please don’t tell her it came from my mouth.”

george didn’t know what happened to him the next 10 seconds. all the sudden he was already sitting on the barstool, a glass of water perching on the countertop in front of him. “you’re turning pale. are you sick? can i get you anything else?”

“is there any beer in the fridge?”

“or do you fancy a glass of whiskey?”

“now you speak my language.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

“i see you’re back on the grid.”

george plopped his body on his old bed that was now too small for him. but he didn’t mind one bit, for the bed was a legendary, silent witness of his childhood dream and the suffering he endured alone behind the 4 walls in order to achieve the life he was currently living.

“i see you didn’t tell anyone of your problem and set off to LA.”

“did ral—”

“she didn’t say anything, i presumed much,” george cut his sister off because even if raline didn’t slip off of her tongue, he’d gathered as much. going on a house exchange trip was beyond cara’s character. “what were you thinking, cara?”

“i know, i wasn’t thinking,” his sister sighed deeply over the phone. “but i know i need to get away from wisbech as soon as possible. you know, to think about everything and what i should do next.”

“like myself, in a sense,” cara agreed to george’s statement right away. her youngest brother had always found a way to conclude things simply for everyone to understand since he was a child and she immediately knew he was meant for big and good things ahead. “you know you can always talk to me, right?”

“i know. i just don’t think i can right now,” cara answered and george sensed she wasn’t saying that to dodge his initial question. “you’ll be the first to know about every single thing when i’m ready.”

“promise me?”

“i promise you, giant. but don’t tell mum anything until i do, okay?” cara didn’t need george to say anything because she knew he was nodding somewhere behind the line. “now, what happened to you?”

george managed to chug the entire whiskey contained in his glass and poured some more for the next turn. “well, my girlfriend cheated on me so now she’s my ex and that’s that.”

“oh, giant. i’m sorry to hear that,” cara took a shaky breath and if it wasn’t because of her previous plead of not going there, george would’ve insisted her to talk about it. “i wish i can share my favourite whiskey with you now.”

“you could, you know?”

“george…”

“i know, it’s why i open the bottle myself. do you mind?”

“just left some for me, yeah?” jack’s voice was heard screaming to his mum he was home. “and share some with raline. i think she needs companion as much as you do.”

“right, about ral—”

“she’s of no harm, george. i can assure you that,” jack’s voice was getting louder each passing second. “but i’m sure you don’t have that much of energy to face jack now so i’m going to call you back, okay?”

the phone call went dead before george managed to let out a response and he was, once again, back friends with silence.

he looked around, waiting for the familiar sense of pride this room used to bring—his karting trophies, junior championship photos, the likes. he rubbed his face for how suffocating it felt this time, like it burnt his lungs every time he inhaled the air around him, and he felt like screaming for help. but he knew nobody could, not when the only one he felt like he could talk to was thousands of miles away enjoying LA sun, and it frustrated him beyond belief that it strained his chest. his hands went up to the painful part of his body, grabbed a hold of it so tightly in hope it eased the pain, but all was futile.

before george realized, tears had run down his face.

and for the first time since he cried in this very room after his homeroom teacher laughed at his face for thinking his dream of becoming an f1 driver ridiculous 10 years ago, mr. consistency helplessly broke down into the abyss of despair.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

if george was any other person doing any other job than being an f1 driver, he surely would’ve missed the gentle caress raline called knocking.

“george?”

her weak attempt was enough to alert george, who’d been trained to react the fastest at everything thrown at him, awake. he knew he could jump straight up and open the door but he didn’t want to open the door looking like an absolute wrecking titanic. and the definite explanations that followed from raline.

“it’s way past dinner time,” raline continued, voice still as gentle as she was the afternoon but the information relied on was enough to make george shoot up from his bed. he turned to the clock beside his favourite lewis hamilton’s biography and it read 9:30. “your food’s getting cold.”

he held back a groan. aleix would definitely kill him for not reporting any of post-races exercise he should be doing, on top of not being contactable for almost the past 24 hours or so. not to mention his nutritionist, his team, his parents—oh god, his head hurt from the turn of events. he didn’t expect he would be knocked out cold for god knows how long. the exhaustion must’ve taken its toll physically and mentally, for the last time he over rested was the first race of his f1 career back in abu dhabi in 2019.

but fuck it, he still had another day to explain himself.

george rummaged through his closet and picked up the thick-rimmed glasses he wore once a dozen halloweens ago, when he tried to channel theodore from alvin and the chipmunk. he could only hope it did the trick this time against raline so he didn’t have to undergo the ever complex question of “are you alright?”.

“i hope you don’t mind pasta,” raline started speaking before he could reach the last flight of the stairs. “it seems like cara didn’t have a chance to do some groceries.”

“pasta sounds great,” george pulled up the high stool across the marble countertop where she was behind. “thank you so much. remind me to go to the market tomorrow.”

“i’m heating up your plate,” raline only acknowledged his previous sentence with a nod, then moved around the kitchen with cold precision, like she didn’t like to waste another second around the premise, and it scared him to be honest. “do you want some wine?”

if raline had noticed his swollen eyes and worn-out skin tone, she surely was damn good at hiding it. what she was doing now could rival angelina jolie’s the kitchen scene in mr. & mrs. smith.

“eh, sure,” raline shot him another question of white or red? before he could continue anything else. “i’ll have what you have. i don’t think my famished stomach can complain about anything that’s already served and ready to eat anyway.”

just in time, his stomach grumbled. george shot her an apologetic look at the same time she shot him a what is that? look, and the weird interaction made her laugh. george’s body warmed at the sight, not because he managed to emanate a genuine reaction out of her that was 180 completely different to his impression of her by far, but because she looked stunningly radiating. as if he’d just unlocked the laugh she kept away for so long.

as if she’d been liberated.

only then he realized he was going to share his sanctuary with someone as beautiful and confusing as raline for the next two weeks.

life really had a way to fuck you up, didn’t he?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

next day, raline still didn’t confront him about the swell that didn’t seem to disperse from his eyes. instead, she greeted him “good morning, george!” with a sleepy smile and her gentle voice before she poured some coffee to his favourite cup, just as he walked in the kitchen after his daily cycling routine.

with her messy bun left some strands framing her facial features, a deadly combination if george had to say. so deadly he failed to notice how she could know it was him before he pulled himself up.

“i hope you don’t mind coffee in the morning,” raline put his cup in front of him, her fingers dainty and her movement seemed calculated. george found himself becoming more and more intrigued at the hot-and-cold contrast she was displaying. “or are you that stereotypical brit that drinks english breakfast tea in the morning?”

george genuinely was curious as to how raline looked like she was smiling without actually smiling. like her face was expressionless and rather cold but she radiated warm, friendly, welcoming persona he didn’t want to look away from. heck, george thought he couldn’t do so if he’d wanted to. was it her eyes? was it her pursed lips?

in fact, raline exuded an aura that only made george want to spill everything that had been wrenching his mind and heart to the table. unfiltered, uncensored. the f1 driver didn’t think he could hold himself altogether any longer and frankly, he didn’t want to anymore.

the revelation horrified him, however, for he had never encountered such a feeling towards a stranger he’d only met less than two days. towards a stranger he’d only met several days after he found his ex-girlfriend cheated on him. towards a stranger he’d only met when the wound was still fresh open. towards a stranger who shared the same kind of experience with him. towards a stranger who escaped her own pain back home. towards a stranger who also had too much already on a plate.

his heart clenched more at the thought he’d only impose more disturbances to her healing process. the meanest thing one can do to others, for him, is to impose more on other people than they can receive. the meanest thing george can do to raline was to impose her with his selfish desire that he couldn’t control in the first place.

“coffee’s wonderful,” george pulled himself away from his reverie, realising raline was waiting for his response. he reciprocated her small smile, however his was bittersweet and his insides churned at the guilt because he knew she didn’t deserve his half-hearted ass attempt to conceal his feelings. “is there milk in the fridge?”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“where have you been?”

“what the fuck!” george jumped in his place at raline’s voice, almost closing the fridge door on his fingers. “can you stop being creepy?!”

“you’d hear me asking you three times already if your airpods wasn’t blocking my voice.”

raline shrugged from where she sat on the floor, her body leaning towards the coffee table in the middle of the living room as she scribbled down something. she looked nonchalant doing so, but george could see a glint of mischief on her eyes as she did so. three days later, and he could figure out she entertained herself by surprising george whenever she could—god knows how she could know when and where he was coming from. george was almost convinced she was actually a psychic devouring a woman’s body as a disguise.

“well the other time we were in the market, i wasn’t wearing anything in my ears and you still snuck up on me,” george opened up the fridge again, remembering what he was planning to grab a bottle of water before raline scared his wits. “care to explain that?”

“you were busy with your fans, were you not?” suddenly raline sounded angry and george couldn’t help but turn around his body, afraid of what he said might be perceived wrong. she didn’t even spare a look at him as she crumpled away the paper she was scribbling on earlier before she threw it away with full force. the poor paper hit the wall before it crippled away lifelessly on the ground, joining a dozen of other papers who’d faced her earlier wrath. “anyway, where were you?”

the return of her normal, gentle voice sent george into a whirlwind. was this woman possessed or something? if he was, he’d nail the coffin on his raline-is-a- psychic theory. “i was out running. need to do my daily 10k, that’s all.”

“10k? impressive,” raline looked up from the blank white sheet to look at george. her eyes went wider and rounder as she realized he was only wearing tight biker suits. george managed to catch her turning slightly pink before she turned away, choosing the boring paper was a better view than his running attire. “how do you that daily without passing out?”

“well, i’m an athlete,” the blush wasn’t fading out anytime soon, george could conclude as much, so he decided it was payback time. he settled down right beside her on the floor, so close their knees were touching and she could silently feel his breath on the back of her ear, overlooking what she was doing. “i’ve been doing that since i was a kid.”

the drop on george’s baritone sent shivers all over raline’s body so she decided to distract herself by drawing some more architecture designs. “what kind of athlete are you?”

“f1 driver,” no, no, no, please don’t get any closer. but as they said, the more you wished for it, the more God wouldn’t have it your way. raline could feel his skin—or what she thought was his skin—brushing featherly against the shell of her ear. “what kind of artist are you?”

“i—um—i’m no artist,” raline had to gulp down her nerves before she choked on it. unluckily, while doing so, the scent of his body odour protruded her sense and she had to close her eyes to gather herself. a mix of sweat, English cold wind and morning sun, his cologne, and his natural body odour. since when he could affect her like this? “i’m an architect, actually.”

“an architect? impressive,” she could feel the tip of george’s nose moving along to the hairs towards the back of her neck and she had to grip the pencil on her hand so she could focus on something. “how does it feel to have a brain as sexy as you?”

shit. george really went to nuzzle back towards her collarbone, tracing the long horizontal bone, ever so painstakingly slowly. “how does it feel to ride a car as sexy as you?”

oh, how much george loved a banter. he chuckled against the soft skin, discreetly inhaling the Chanel hair mist she sprayed on while feeling the hairs standing up all over her body at the sensation his teeth gave as they grazed the skin. “i bet you it’s sexier when you ride me on instead.”

she released a shaky breath as george planted a hand on her exposed thigh at the end of his sentence, thanks to the oversized sweater she always wore to sleep. “george…”

as much as george enjoyed getting his payback, he didn’t expect he enjoyed enticing these kinds of reactions out of raline. she was always beautiful since the first time he laid his eyes on her but nothing beat the prettiest sight of raline aroused and gaping lightly for air under his hands’ demonstration. it didn’t help to his pride that getting this out of her only from his nose and hands, imagine how she’d be when he poured his all in.

fuck. raline was turning more and more like an addictive aphrodisiac on him.

fuck. this was why he tried to stay out of the house whenever he could. he ran 10k, he set milestones on his biking distance, he drove back and forth to the mercedes training centre down south, he trained in the local gym, he ate his lunch—ironically, the one raline always managed to pack the night before he went out to the mercedes building in the morning—at random parks on the way home. hell, he even tended cara’s plants and flowers on the backyard even though he had the shittiest hands out of all his family, just minimize his interaction to raline.

raline, in one way or another, was cara’s guest, hence he should treat a guest with outmost respect. and his father taught him to treat woman as they’re their worth.

but jesus christ, may the lord help him.

it’s because george knew raline was worth golden, it was very difficult for him to hold back. not when he knew now she could be puny under his hands, not when he knew now how her body reacted to him, not when he knew now that while she didn’t exactly say no, she was more than welcoming of his advances.

to top it all off, not when he knew in the first place he was worthy of her.

it’s always the forbidden fruit that’s so tempting, no?

but maybe, he hadn’t been selfish enough all his life for everything he truly wanted.

just as george was about to channel his inner adam, his phone’s ringtone splashed a tsunami to their faces. george pulled away and dashed out of the house as if his life depended on it.

well, maybe not his life, but certainly for his inner peace and sanity.

#george russell #gr63 #george russell imagine #george russell fic #george russell one shot #george russell fanfic #george russell x reader #george russell fluff #george russell smut #george russell angst #george russell drabble #george russell x you #oh-saints writes

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dc418writes · 3 years ago

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•Little Red•

✨Pairing✨: biker!Curtis Everettxblack!Reader

Summary🪄: You have a run in with one of the town’s most infamous

⚠️: a jerk of a boyfriend, creepy men, an appearance from a famous killer/hitman/psycho, gets fluffy towards the end

A/N🎙: Hi guys, it’s my first Curtis fic🤗! So I watched the new season of Stranger Things and liked Chrissy and Eddie’s dynamic (i.e bad boy and good girl), especially their convo in the woods (iykyk, not trying to give spoilers), thus leading to this idea! Hope you guys like what I came up with☺️. Also the collage at the top was made by me (trying something different don’t know if it’ll stay) however pictures ARE NOT mine and I DO NOT claim any ownership as they were all found on Pinterest

Sighing, you twirl the small straw around your glass making the melting ice inside spin along with the green liquid itself. This was your second cocktail and fifth bar following behind your boyfriend and his friends who insisted on participating in the town’s annual Crawl From Dusk Til Dawn. You all got off to a late start from your respective class schedules, so naturally they were trying to catch up to those around drunkenly giggling and swaying as they tried to stand.

You on the other hand were tired, just wanting to go home and sleep in bed. Your social battery continued to dwindle with each additional beer or shot your boyfriend, his frat brothers, and their girlfriends took. Plus you weren’t really fond of being surrounded by obnoxious drunk people all night.

“Alright, what’s next?!,” you hear above the older rock song playing overhead and collection of voices making you internally groan. You didn’t need to turn around to know the face matching the voice having been around him enough times. He was the ringleader of sorts for the night knowing which bars had the best drinks and tended to turn a blind eye for anything “under the table” happening literally or figuratively in their place of business.

“Cmon, we’re about to head out,” Isaac gently grips your elbow leaning close to your ear.

“Home?”

“No,” he grins pecking your temple, “We don’t go home until every bar closes or the sun comes. Whichever comes later.”

“Joy,” you mumble to yourself finishing your drink.

“What’s with you huh? Been mopey since we got here.”

“Nothing, I’m just tired and think I’m gonna head home.” His scoff and look of irritation catches you off guard making you furrow your brows. “What?”

“Why’d you even come if you were gonna do this?!”

Now was your turn to scoff turning on your barstool to be face to face with his hazy eyes no longer white, but a light red. “I didn’t think this was what you wanted to do literally all day. You know I’m not really a drinker-”

“Whatever, see you at the house.”

“Wait. Can you stand with me outside?,” you ask holding him in place by his veiny forearm. Looking over your shoulder he sighs rubbing his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. You guessed his high and the alcohol were beginning to fade.

“Its people out there. You’ll be aight.” He doesn’t see the disappointed drop of your face, immediately turning to rejoin his friends. Were you really being so difficult? You didn’t think so.

Lifting your hand, you happen to catch the bartender just as she’s passing by to pay for your drink. Luckily it didn’t take long for her to come back smiling as she handed you your card and wishing you a good night before moving onto the next customer.

“Hey! We’re headed out as soon as they figure out who’s paying, which will probably take a while knowing Joe,” Jane giggles brushing her honey brown hair out of her face. She was your closest friend out of all the girlfriends—well those that were permanent. Also getting her Masters in Education, you had some classes together and tended to use each other’s notes while studying. She was sweet and one of the few people you felt you could go to for anything.

“Yea I’m uh actually heading back home. Not really feeling it anymore.”

“Oh, you okay? Want me to ride back with you, or call an Uber?”

“Yea I’m just tired,” you softly smile, “and no, I don’t wanna ruin your night or anything.”

“What? You could never! Honestly the break would probably be good for me,” she giggles making your own appear soon after.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine. With everybody out I’m sure there’s a ride waiting nearby.”

“You sure? I don’t know about leaving you by yourself,” she states.

“Yea, you go ahead and enjoy your night. Just please nobody get arrested,” you both laugh as she gives you a hug.

“Well it’s not me you have to worry about with that one.” Watching her go back to her boyfriend, Dex, you see her snuggle into his side as he wraps a tattooed arm around her shoulders sweetly kissing the top of her head. And although a nice moment, your heart aches remembering how Isaac treated you.

And seeing that he was currently talking to some curvy redhead who couldn’t seem to keep her hands to herself didn’t ease that ache.

Outside, the strip is just as busy as the bars from the amount of people trying to walk by or waiting for their rides. Like you expected, there were plenty of Ubers in the area waiting for their next fare so it took mere seconds for you to pick and confirm your ride. “Hello?,” you ask answering your phone vibrating with a call from an unknown number. If this was him already he definitely earned those five stars.

“I’m sorry? H-Hold on I can barely hear you.” Your heels click against the concrete dodging those on the sidewalk as you follow the streetlights until you’re able to hear clearly. “Okay, say again please?”

“The road’s blocked off near your requested pick up. Is there anyway you can meet me at the corner of Hixon and Broadway?” That was about four blocks away. It shouldn’t be that bad right?

“Um…y-yea sure that’s fine. I’ll head there now.”

It’s a bit more empty the further you walk towards your destination. Clearly this part of town wasn’t a hotspot for college kids. The couple bars you did see looked long closed, and mostly that remained were a few restaurants and a couple pool halls. Some were still open for the night, their overhead, fluorescent lights shining brightly and showcasing the few people sitting and talking inside.

“Well, lookie here boys. A little kitten that looks lost,” a gruff voice states startling you as soon as you pass by the opening to an alley.

Don’t stop and you’ll be fine

Soon there’s thudding footsteps behind you causing your heartbeat to quicken. “Never seen you around here before. Where ya headed too?”

Keep going, you’re almost there

“Cmon kitten, I know you hear me. Promise I don’t bite.” The pace of the footsteps speeds up along with yours. You thought about running into the nearest open door, but who’s to say they wouldn’t follow? Who’s to say whoever owned the building you ran into would even care enough to help?

Against your better judgement, you turn to see three men. Two in the back, each with short, nearly black hair standing on either side of who you assumed was the leader with his long, dark strands that fell like string past his collarbones and alongside his thin glasses. His hands were stuffed in his coat pockets and a sinister smirk rested on his lips just as it did the others. The man on the right even licked his lips as if you were prey and he would finally be able to eat after days of hunger.

“A cute one isn’t she boys?”

You’re more than convinced you’ll be on the next flyers passed around from your family as they search for your missing body. Your picture flashed across every television screen as the local news anchors describe your final whereabouts and further broadcast your family’s plea of your safe return.

The ding of a bell brings your vision forward, making you halt any further steps unsure of what would happen next. A little over six foot, the stranger’s blue eyes seemed to bore into your soul from their intensity. But there was a touch of softness as well the longer you held his stare. Ash gray beanie in his tattooed hand, his gaze drifts back and forth between you and the men frozen behind you who stopped as well confused as to what was happening.

“You alright?,” he gruffly asks to which you simply stand there. Your throat suddenly dry afraid to say anything and cause an even worse situation. He could read your body though, how your arms securely crossed in front of your chest that thudded from your rapid heartbeat. The way your eyes were on the verge of tears although you were trying to hold yourself together.

“Listen, this is none of your business,” the leader speaks stepping closer to you and causing a light whimper to escape your plump lips. “Me and my girl here just had a little disagreement.”

Again there’s silence as he looks from you to the men before moving to the side just enough so only you could enter the brightly lit coffee shop. “Inside.”

You’d never met this man in your life, but you immediately followed his orders rushing past to the safety of the nearly empty room. The door slamming behind you makes you jump, clutching yourself even tighter and turning to see the helpful stranger walking towards the men. The leader seeming nonchalant while his backup were ready at his side.

“Hi honey, you okay?” Circular, tortoise shell frames over her brown eyes, the older woman carefully approaches you with a sympathetic smile and a glass of water along with a chocolate chip muffin. Possibly in her 50s from what you assumed, the oversized sweater covering her arms and shoulders highlights her slender frame. You’d hardly call the crinkles by her eyes wrinkles how well she looked for her age. “I’m Mabel by the way. Owner of this old thing.”

“Y/N, and y-yea just kinda shaken up.” Taking one of the open seats at the counter, she peaks out the window—you guessed to check on whatever his name was—before sitting next to you.

“I bet. Do you need to call anyone?”

“No, my Uber’s on the way. That’s why I was out walking trying to meet them in a couple blocks.”

“Well you’re welcome to stay here until they come or as long as you need,” she smiles. The door opening then quickly shutting with the click of a lock has you both looking towards the front to find the man who saved you un-phased as if he just went for a stroll. His long legs striding closer towards the both of you, you finally see the cuts and bruises already forming under spots of dried blood along his knuckles.

You even notice the cut hidden just under his beanie that would probably need stitches. Mabel either didn’t see it, or might not have been surprised as she handed him a napkin. “You okay?”

He simply nodded before turning towards you, his gaze filling you with a mix of intimidation and something else you couldn’t quite place yet.

Fascination maybe?

“They touch you?”

“N-No,” you embarrassingly stutter answering probably too quickly.

“Good, you don’t have to worry about them again. Neither of you.”

“You really think Pronge and his little groupies will stay away?,” Mabel asks sitting her purse higher on her shoulder.

“Unless they have a death wish they will.”

You probably should’ve been nervous hearing that. Hurriedly trying to get away from whoever this man was not knowing if he was just as dangerous as the men he saved you from. Possibly even worse.

Instead though, you felt this sense of comfort.

Maybe it was from your near assault and now heightened vulnerability, but you didn’t want to cower or run from him. You felt safe. In his presence as well as with Mabel and her kind smile reminiscent of your mother’s.

Your phone vibrating with a random number can’t be anyone but your Uber finally arrived and now looking for you. Did you even want to try walking the rest of the way after what you just experienced? Who knows who else could be waiting in the shadows?

“Hey I-I hate to ask, but would either one of you mind giving me a ride? I’m not really sure about meeting my Uber after…well you know.” Your thumbs nervously twirl around themselves in your lap as you take turns meeting both of their eyes. “I-I promise I don’t live too far from here, but I understand if you say no. You’ve already done enough, which I’m so grateful for really! P-Plus you don’t really know me, I just met you-,”

“Curtis,” Mabel interrupts your rambling with a hand on Curtis’ bicep. The look in his cyan eyes seemed to try and convey for her not to say whatever she was about to, but she simply ignored it fluttering her mascara covered lashes. “You’re going back towards town. Care to take this lovely young lady for a ride?”

The mischievous gleam in her eyes told Curtis what she was trying to do, but he wasn’t in the mood for her games tonight. Especially not when it came to you.

He knew nothing about you—well, other than how beautiful you were, and he loved the way the color red sat against your skin—but he could practically smell your innocence. And no matter how much he wanted to, he knew he didn’t need any part of him or his life bleeding onto you.

But what was he supposed to do? Say no and have you stuck on your own fending yourself?

Sighing, he digs his keys out of his pocket shooting his friend one last glare before turning his attention towards you. “Sure, I’ll take you.”

“It’s okay if you say no or don’t want to, honestly.”

“I said I’ll take you,” he repeats holding the front door open for you. Whether he liked it or not, the moment he locked with your shining, deep brown eyes no wasn’t an option.

Shutting off his all black Indian Scout, Curtis chuckles to himself feeling your arms still wrapped tightly around his middle. Your body slightly trembling as he could feel your heart racing in your chest against his back.

“W-We stopped?!,” you shouted loud enough for him to hear through the covered helmet protecting your head.

“We’re here.” Your arms slowly sliding against his abdomen leave a tingling sensation in their wake he couldn’t ignore if he tried. Helping you take off his helmet, he already misses how your body felt against his. Warming his skin without even having to physically make contact with it.

His stoic features nearly falter watching you fix your dress on shaky legs before reaching up to smooth your hair. He should feel guilty how his mind immediately goes to other ways he could make your legs shake and have to fix yourself.

And he does…briefly.

“Um thanks for getting me home,” you softly smile before reaching in your purse trying to find that 20 you know was in there somewhere. His hand on your forearm immediately makes your head rise.

“No charge.”

“But gas-“

“I’m not gonna repeat myself Red.” His mouth twitches into a tilted smirk and you feel your legs quiver again, but not from the vibrations of the bike residing in your muscles.

“Red?”

“Well, I don’t know your name so,” he explains pointing to your red dress with white feathers, “next best thing right?”

“Y/N,” you introduce holding out your hand for him to shake. God you were too adorable he thought.

The softness of your palm contrasting the cracks and couple small blisters in his makes him never want to let go. It reminds him of something he hasn’t felt since he was a child, and it truthfully scares him.

“Thanks again for everything Curtis. I feel like I owe you my life,” you nervously chuckle.

“No thanks needed, Y/N.” Giving him a small wave, he makes sure you get in your building safely before starting the engine, no doubt waking someone from the quiet community.

“Have a goodnight Red,” he speaks to himself before speeding away. Or maybe it was to the ghost of you swirling around him that refused to follow you upstairs.

Taglist: @theartisticqueen @yinx1 @elrw24 @pono-pura-vida @literaturelove @ivorylei @fumbling-fanfics @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @justile @sunsetfreedom05 @jackiekae @luvingmyships @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @bekinds @ladydmalfoy @maxcullen @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @honeychicana @honeydulcewrites @maylaysaia109 @damnitaa @literaturefeen @bamondomesticity @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found in masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know. Also, if you’d rather opt for turning on my page notifications that’s fine too🤓!

#chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader #snowpiercer #curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x black reader #curtis everett x woc!reader #curtis everett au

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missgeniality · 4 years ago

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Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

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mettywiththenotes · 2 years ago

Text

You blink at the gloves and look back up at Anan. They flash you a sympathetic smile with sad eyes.

“You have a dangerous quirk, right? The way you’re holding your hands away… I’ve been there.”

They hold up the hand that isn’t holding the gloves to show the ones they are already wearing, a dark material hugging the skin up to the elbow.

“I have a dangerous quirk too. It was hard to know what to do with it at first, but gloves really helped. Maybe they will do the same for you?”

Cautiously, you take the spare gloves from her and put them on. Anan smiles, “What do you think?”

You assess the way the gloves fit on your hands. They look nothing like Anan’s. These are simple, only ending at the wrist rather than the elbow and they are just a bit too big over such small hands. Thankfully, they haven’t decayed even as your fingertips reach to the end.

“Do you want to come with me?” Anan asks, “I can get you some help. Take you to a Hero or to the station, whichever is closest.”

They hold out their hand for the final time and you take it, wincing a little at the feeling of something solid, alive, under the weight of your hand, but nothing happens. Nothing decays. The gloves worked. Helping you up, they carefully lead you out from under the bridge.

“Any parents or people you know nearby?”

You shake your head, trying not to cry.

“I see. I’m sorry about that, little guy. But don’t worry, we’re going to get you out of here and somewhere safe, okay?” They give a small reassuring squeeze to your hand.

As you enter back into the city, you stick close to them, keeping your eyes down and always keeping your hand in theirs. Every now and then, Anan glances down to make sure you’re okay, and whenever your eyes meet, they smile and say "Shouldn't be much farther now".

Despite the horrible events in the night and what proceeded to happen in the morning rush, for the first time, maybe in a long time, you feel seen. A hero didn’t need to be present for someone to help you and find sympathy in your sadness. The future is uncertain, but what you do know is that you will always feel grateful to this person, Anan Kurose, who decided to help you when no one else would.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

@bnhapolls

#all done now #been a while since i wrote something but i couldn't not give this a proper ending #Who Would Win - evil super villain who wanted to take advantage of your traumatized and vulnerable state #vs. a 13 year old on their way to school #everybody say thank you anan kurose AKA future hero named Thirteen #bnha #bnhapolls #mettys polls #tenko shimura #anan kurose #bnha thirteen #mettys posts #metty posts #writing in second person isn't the best but. well i wanted to keep in line with how i did the polls #well whatever #mettys writing #also to clarify - anan isn't seeing tenko shaking his head and going 'parents dead? thats rough buddy'#they only know tenko's parents or friends or whoever aren't around in the city #they don't know that they're dead #so yeah #its up to you whether anan takes him to the police or to a hero

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anystalker707 · 4 years ago

Text

Turn over

Pairing: Gerard x [enby, afab] Reader Word count: ~ 3 300 Genre: Smut / Comfort Summary: Reader comes out to Gerard as non-binary. Gerard decides to enjoy their stay at the hotel to relieve themselves and get f*cked in the *ss.

Requested by anon

a/n: thx sm for this request, mwah, sorry for taking too long </3

Smoke escapes my lips as I look into the distance, watching the commotion around the parking lot from under the sunglasses I stole from Gerard earlier. People walk around the parking lot under the bright sun, either rushing to whichever shadow they can find or just having given up to the sunburns – certain pride swells in my chest at Gerard and I having seats right under the bus’ shadow.

The cigarette is suddenly snatched from my fingers, making me raise an eyebrow at Gerard, who carelessly takes a drag of it before dropping the stump to the ground, smashing it against the concrete with the heel of his boot. The closest to a reaction I get from Gerard is a cynical smile, which seems to only grow after I shake my head to myself. Definitely something that would get me mad if I wasn’t used to it after all these years.

“Annoying bitch,” I mutter in his ear, pressing a kiss to the side of his face.

“Possibly.” He grins. “But all yours.”

I hum at Gerard, nuzzling him softly and giving him a last kiss before I can pull away and it’s impossible not to smile at his adorable manners, blushing shyly at the affection.

As much as there isn’t exactly much we would be doing if not here, something makes me want to stand up and go wander around every few seconds just to remember I can’t and there goes another sigh as I turn to look for something interesting to watch. Maybe it’s to do more with the heat crawling up my skin in such an annoying way rather than the lack of anything to do.

“Gerard!” Someone suddenly says and they’re finally here, thank hell.

It doesn’t take long for them to prepare all the cameras, which happens while the guy shares some words with Gerard about the interview. I don’t really need to move as the cameras will be mostly focused on the two and a good distance separates Gerard and I.

“I see you’re with your girlfriend,” the guy comments and I internally cringe, preferring to continue pretending I’m not following the conversation. Girlfriend. Awfully wrong.

“Yeah,” Gerard replies shyly and I suddenly feel a hand – his hand – wrapped around mine, holding onto it firmly with this subtle nervousness he holds whenever in front of a camera, no matter how many times this happens. I squeeze his hand softly, making him relax a bit under my touch.

Gerard lets go of my hand at some point and their words turn into incoherent noises in the background until I decide to avert my attention to them and actually watch them… until I get lost in thoughts again.

Having people refer to me by she, her, girl is so frustrating. I wasn’t worried about it at first, reminding myself my pronouns don’t define who I am, and things took an unexpected – or maybe not so unexpected – turn, only getting worse; still, I manage to bite my tongue whenever it happens. I’m not a girl, no, but I’m not a guy. None of these feel right. A label itself doesn’t feel right; at least now.

Of course, perhaps things would be easier if I discussed it with Gerard because we’re always helping each other out, almost unable to function on our own after spending all these years inseparably. Something, however, holds me back, having the words caught in my throat whenever the subject crosses my mind. This is almost shameful, with Gerard being so open with me the whole time while I can’t tell him something so important. He’s even talked with me about his own gender issues.

“You alright, love?” Gerard’s concerned voice cuts through my thoughts and I turn to see him looking at me with a matching expression, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, don’t worry.” I try to smile. He doesn’t smile back and I brush it off. I’ll need us to be alone if I’m telling him anything, anyways.

Once the sun starts to set in the horizon, we’re grabbing food and heading to the hotel, having decided we deserved a night on a proper bed and a proper shower after all these days, considering we’ve also got a longer stay in here.

“Hi, hi, hi!” Gerard jumps towards me once I walk into the room, wrapping his arms around my neck while I still close the door behind me and I can’t help but to smile. His lips are pressed to mine before I have the chance to answer, a short kiss followed by him pulling away and spending a long moment observing me, demonstrating less emotions than he holds in these wide, hazel eyes.

“What?” I raise an eyebrow, resting my hands on his hips as both of us stumble towards the bed, clumsily, though never losing our balance.

“Well, that’s exactly my question to you.” Gerard furrows his eyebrows lightly, that same concern from earlier now present in his gaze yet again. What? Well, he asked me if everything was alright earlier, but maybe I can shrug it off by saying I felt tired. Or maybe not. “There’s something bothering you, (y/n), and it’s obvious.” He sighs, letting go of me to sit down on the edge of the mattress.

A few excuses run through my mind. They aren’t worth it. God, okay, that’s it or else I’ll stab the next person who refers to me as a girl even if it’s Gerard.

“I’m non-binary, Gerard, okay?” Pause. Aching silence. “Well, at least I’m not a girl or a guy,” I breathe in certain defeat under his gaze, moving to sit down next to him. “Like, I’ve noticed it some time ago, but I was… afraid of telling you. I know you love me above all and I can tell you stuff like this, but I continued nervous, for some reason. Well, I am. I’m just done being referred to as ‘girlfriend’ and all, y’know?”

“Oh,” Gerard mutters and I can see him nodding by the corner of my eyes before his hand is placed over mine. “It makes a lot more sense now, if you wanna know. You’re always with this awkward smile whenever people refer to you like this. How do you wanna be referred to from now on, love?”

“Just nothing gendered, if that’s alright,” I say softly, feeling my confidence slowly wearing out to be replaced by this rising nervousness. “And my name continues fine.”

“(Y/n), you shouldn’t ask if it’s alright.” He moves closer wrapping an arm around my torso instead, pressing a comforting kiss to my jaw. “It’s your identity, it’s who you are, you don’t need to ask ‘if’ people are going to accept you.” His hand meets my cheek, gently bringing me to face him. “And I’ll continue loving you no matter what. I’m happy you finally decided to say it. You won’t get frustrated anymore. Is it okay to tell the others?”

“Yeah, it is.” I nod, feeling this weight being slowly removed from my chest, finally. “Just not today, okay? I’m tired already.” I smile a bit, somehow calming down with how relaxed Gerard himself is with this whole thing, expression never changing.

“Of course,” he hums, hand coming down to my collarbone as his eyes avert to my lips a few times. “You’re my wonderful partner, such an amazing and brilliant person I’m lucky to have.”

If I ever had anything to say to Gerard, it just vanishes from my head at the moment both of us lean in, lips pressed together in a sweet kiss. All the worry and nervousness has already vanished by now, being simply a distant memory that left this weird feeling in my chest, but it’s definitely better than all that weight that made it even hard to breathe.

“I love you no matter what,” he mutters and he’s quickly kissing me again, one of his hands moving to the back of my neck and playing with the few strands of hair there.

The most of a reply I’m able to give him without breaking the kiss is a muffled hum, and even though I really appreciate his words, I’m more focused on how he deepens the kiss, becoming more invested into it. I can feel the warmth of his skin through the jeans of his pants, under my hands as I place them on his thighs and lead them up to his hips, fingers slipping under his jacket and shirt to hold onto the warm skin and rub circles into it. A quiet sound escapes Gerard’s throat.

Only my lungs pleading for air forces me to come to a stop, panting softly with my eyes still closed and forehead pressed to Gerard’s, his eyelashes tickling mine lightly.

Gerard clearly has something in mind – he had it planned all along, knowing how the bastard can be – and my assumptions are proven true when his lips meet my neck, nibbling on and kissing the skin in an almost demanding manner.

“Gee,” I breathe softly, voice tight in my throat because Gerard didn’t choose any random spot on my neck. A groan comes from him in response, a quiet response, but gains a desperate tone with a light tug on his hair. Fuck. Resisting Gerard isn’t quite easy, so I try to keep my focus whilst enjoying his touches for a moment longer, soon I’m pulling away. “Needy today, aren’t we?” I tease lightly, observing his flushed face, though he doesn’t hold any embarrassment.

“Why? Got a problem?” He mocks and I can’t stop myself from laughing at his manners, his mouth twisting in a cute and sassy way. He rolls his eyes. A smug air laces his grin, wiped away from his face in seconds with a last kiss I give him before motioning for him to move further up the bed, which he does.

Gerard’s jacket meets the ground with a muffled sound at the same time I get rid of my shoes and jacket, soon climbing on the bed and making my way over to Gerard. He watches me with wide eyes, teeth sinking into his bottom lip in anticipation.

“How perfect can you be?” I ask, not bothering to keep my posture, flashing a half grin as I tug on his shirt and he helps me with getting rid of it.

“As perfect as you want me to be, sugar.” He’s as audacious and careless, lying there complacently and waiting for me to do something, pale skin almost pleading for my touches, contrasting perfectly with the dark grey shades of the covers.

“You’re terrible,” I mutter merely above a whisper, cold fingertips meeting the skin first, followed by my palms flat against his waist. Little bumps rise under my touch, but I ignore them, leaning in to start to mouth Gerard’s collarbones, doing to him the same he did to me earlier, though also allowing my hands to run up and down his sides and my thumbs are shortly sinking in the area right under the waistband of his jeans, around the trail of hair – his hips bulk forward in response, with a light groan escaping his lips.

Teasing Gerard absolutely isn’t part of my plans, but seeing him there like that makes me want to enjoy everything to the most, so I try to balance each movement between the enjoyable and uncomfortable for both of us.

Red marks mark my trail down Gerard’s torso, each having been accompanied by gasps and sometimes moans.

Gerard finally allows himself to breathe properly, catching his breath whereas I remove my shirt, promptly working on unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, letting it fall to the ground along with the rest of his clothes. I take my moment to observe him again and Gerard doesn’t object – running his tongue between his lips and grinning when my eyes meet his.

All that posture is dropped the moment I bend down and nibble down onto Gerard’s hip, nuzzling the warm skin on my way down to his thighs. He’s bringing his legs up at the slightest touch on his thighs spreading them in a silent invitation I take, placing a hand on the underside of it, firmly. Gerard tenses up, twitching slightly according to how my lips linger over the skin, each time closer to his already hard cock, which falls heavily over his lower stomach.

“(Y/n),” he gasps, unable to say anything more once I wrap my lips around the thin, sensitive part of the inside of his thigh and nibble down onto it. Proper moans escape his lips, higher pitched, almost little whines.

Okay, okay, that’s enough – solely watching Gerard like this already has me aching for some friction, maybe some sort of touch even if it’s actually touching Gerard.

Our panting, along with the sound of my pants being removed, sounds loud in the sudden silence, making us aware of how loud Gerard was actually being.

Gerard only stares at the ceiling, hands loosely wrapped around the sheets, now messy after all the pulling. I gaze at him, at how delicate he seems and how the bright red tone on his cheeks and down his chubby body contrasts perfectly with all the paleness.

My bag rests beside the bed, against the bedside table just like I had left it there before having to leave the room to go talk with Ray and quickly came back to Gerard kissing me. It’s got a couple changes of clothes, my phone, some essentials, but most importantly, it has the strap-on, which I always bring along to the hotel stops, plus lube, just in case. And thank God I did.

“Turn that ass over for me,” I say, giving Gerard’s thigh a light slap.

A few groans come from Gerard, but he does do as said, turning on his stomach and glancing back at me with sulky pouty lips.

“My cute slut,” I tease, pecking his lips with a half smile.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t need to brag.” He waves a hand in dismissal, moving to grab one of the pillows so he can hug it. I roll my eyes, moving to kneel behind him and a new slap – this time on his ass – has him groaning again, though getting himself up on his knees, hips in the air.

Hell, yes. I hum in approval, pressing a kiss to the side of Gerard’s ass, keeping my focus on lubing up my fingers at the same time. Finally, I’m pressing one of my fingers to his hole. He tenses up a bit under the touch, the tight rim of muscles fluttering once I start to circle it, later welcoming my finger warmly once I sink it in. Gerard moans, softly and long.

Soon, a finger turns into two then into three until Gerard is a moaning mess, gasping and trembling at how my fingertips brush his prostate and press down on it, clenching around my fingers. His moans are becoming too desperate when I decide to finally pull away, breathing heavily myself and most likely flushed. “Fucking hell, Gerard,” I mutter softly, giving Gerard some time to recompose himself.

I clean my fingers on the sheets, not caring much because it’s not like the hotel is going to do something about it either. Instead, I focus on relieving myself, bringing my hand between my legs to try to get rid of at least a little bit of this need. Fuck. My finger slides along my clit as I look at Gerard for a moment then bite down on my lip, preventing any moan from escaping, throwing my head back at the pleasure, but I force myself to remove my hand in the moment my hips jolt forward like they had life themselves.

“Great, great,” I mutter to myself, trying to focus on slipping on the strap-on and grabbing the lube yet again.

Gerard breathes heavily, shifting a bit in his place, motions that come to a stop once I’m kneeling behind him, hands closed around his pudgy hips.

“Ready?” I ask a bit breathlessly, wetting my lips.

“Please,” he groans, voice muffled into the pillow. I comply. A louder gasp escapes Gerard’s lips at the feeling of the toy pushing in, slowly so he can adjust to it, whilst I lean down according to how my hips push in, feeling the skin of his back pressed against my torso, hot and damp with sweat already, but that’s the smallest of my worries. A soft moan escapes Gerard’s lips with my hips finally meeting the back of his ass completely and, feeling him wriggling lightly, I don’t hesitate in starting to move, pushing back just to sink in again.

A steady string of moans is soon escaping Gerard’s lips, interrupted sometimes by gasps and incoherent mumbling as my pace grows faster until I find a rhythm nice enough for the both of us. It’s subtle at first, but his hips are moving along, stuttering before finding a harmony with my movements and clearly summing up to his pleasure.

My nose is buried in Gerard’s hair, each of my shallow breaths and occasional groans coming with a faint smell of shampoo and cologne. His dark strands tickle my nose, but I don’t mind them, pressing soft kisses to the back of his neck and daring to nibble down on it.

“Hell, Gerard,” I say breathlessly, pulling myself back a bit so I can adjust the angle of my hips. “You’re going to be the death of me.” His moans just sound like absolute music to my ears, becoming even more pleasing after I find his prostate, snatching high pitched and more desperate, uncontrollable sounds from his throat, intensifying more as I start moving faster. “There you go,” I groan, letting go of one of his hips so I can wrap a hand around his dick, pumping it to the same rhythm of my thrusts.

“(Y/–” My name never gets to leave Gerard’s lips completely among the moans, only mumbled incoherently as he grips onto the pillow and practically melts under me. “I-I’m–” he gasps, followed by a shaky moan.

I need to move away for a moment, taking a look at Gerard’s face and it’s just heavenly, half hidden into the pillow, mouth hanging open in a way the upper row of short teeth are seen and his dark strands are everywhere, sticking to the skin with the sweat and covering his eyes, which are pressed shut.

“Then come, love, come,” I mutter lowly into his ear, sinking my finger into Gerard’s cock slit and not a minute later he’s coming, a long and high pitched moan escaping his throat with it. I keep on moving, attentive to his manners and pulling away before the oversensitivity can hit him.

A few quiet sounds still come from Gerard even while I put everything away – we can clean and organize it all tomorrow –, slowly relaxing on the mattress. He is eventually sitting up against the headboard, blinking slowly, still a bit disoriented. “Come here, will you?” His words almost run one into the other, but he keeps his focus, spreading his legs and patting the space between them.

“Yeah,” I mutter and sit down on the space, leaning back against Gerard, appreciating the warmth he brings me in contrast to the cold night air hitting my sweaty skin.

Gerard doesn’t waste any time, arm wrapped around my torso and fingers quickly working on my clit.

“Fuck,” I gasp, arching my back and patting around for something to hold onto, finally having a hand buried in Gerard’s hair whilst also holding onto his wrist. Gerard’s hum tickles my skin, his lips pressed against my neck as he nibbles on the skin, never slowing down his work with his hand. My pleasure soon grows when I feel a couple of fingers slipping in, scissoring and moving around until they’re pressing down on a specific spot, thumb still working against my clit.

My climax hits me before I can see, waves of pleasure sent running up my thighs as I tug onto Gerard, vision momentarily going black.

“Gerard,” I breathe, slowly coming back to reality, groaning softly at feeling him moving his hand away. He chuckles softly, unamused.

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fawnandshadows · 3 years ago

Text

After the Ceremony - Chapter 2

Hey guys! I was completely overwhelmed by the response I received on the first chapter of After the Ceremony, and I am so excited to share this with you guys. You can also find it on AO3. This chapter is slightly nsfw.

Summary: Elain and Azriel after Nesta and Cassian's Mating Ceremony.

Words: 2,554

Rating: M

Glorious. Splendid. Sublime.

There wasn’t a single word that could describe what it felt like to be kissed by Azriel. His rough hands, one on her heart and the other of her cheek, and soft lips put her on sensory overload. All she could feel was him. All she could think about was him.

Elain couldn’t stop herself as her tongue ran over the seam of his lips, tentatively asking a question, and she almost groaned in relief at his answer. His tongue slid against her in a sinfully good way, and she couldn’t help but notice that he tasted of champagne and vanilla.

With a giggle Elain pulled away. Her forehead was pressed against his, and she delighted in the way his warm breath drifted across her face. She took another moment to collect herself before asking, “What were you doing out of bed?”

Azriel raised an eyebrow and said, “You stopped kissing me to ask me that?”

“I think you were out of bed to eat the leftover cake before anyone else could,” Elain teased, and she got all the confirmation she needed from the blush that bloomed on his cheeks. “So, the shadowsinger has a sweet tooth? I could taste it on you,” Elain whispered that last part, and it seemed her tongue, working on its own accord, traced the length of his bottom lip. “Delicious.”

The shadowsinger groaned as the contact, and before he could think, his hands ran over her backside, lifted her up, and set her on the closest table.

“There is something else I’ve been dying to taste.” Azriel said in a haggard whisper as his hands started tracing up the length of her thigh. He put his head in the crook of her neck, his tongue darted out to the hollow of her collar bone, and the saltiness that coated his tongue caused his pants to tighten even more. He thanked the Mother for loose pajamas. Elain became pliant in his arms, and his hands found themselves tangled in her hair. He pulled her hair, a little harder than he meant to, just to move her hair back, but the sound that escaped her mouth was enough to stop him. It was a sound that could only be described as pleasure. Unadulterated pleasure.

A thrill shot down Azriel’s spine. He never thought he’d be able to discover Elain’s secret pleasures. His pulse jumped at the knowledge that he, Azriel, was the one to find out what brought Elain bliss.

Azriel cleared his head just enough to ask, “Are you sure? Once we do this there is no going back.”

“I don’t want to go back.” Elain responded in a voice so vulnerable it almost shattered his heart. He looked into her eyes, expected to see them hazed with lust, but they were startlingly clear. Those warm brown eyes held something delicate, something that Azriel never expected to see in eyes turned his way, something that looked remarkably similar to love.

Before she could change her mind, because there was a small piece of him that worried she would, his lips captured hers again. Az didn’t bother to hide the urgency in his kiss, he knew she deserved romance; he knew she deserved better than the gnashing of teeth in the dead of night while her mate slept somewhere in the house, but this was all he could give her right now. Maybe the next time he could be slow and delicate, but his blood was burning too hot and his heart was pounding too loudly to stop now.

He pulled away from her, his scarred hand pushed her down on the table, which his shadows cleared at some point, and sank to his knees in front of her.

The smell of her arousal was closer than ever before, and strong enough to cause his eyes to roll back into his head. He gripped her nightgown and pushed it up with so much force that if he hadn’t been so drunk off her arousal, then he would have heard the sound of cotton tearing. Azriel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The scent of jasmine, honey, and sweat overwhelmed him. He pushed his head forward, unable to control himself, his tooth caught on her -

His shadows swarmed him. They pulled him away, and were buzzing in his ear at an alarming rate. Her scream of pleasure, or maybe it was frustration, was muffled by a shadow gently pressing against her mouth - an image that Azriel tucked away in his mind. After a moment to catch his breath Azriel could finally make out what the shadows were saying.

The High Lady is awake.

Distantly, Azriel heard footsteps coming down the staircase, growing closer. Elain looked up at him, her brown eyes warm and slightly confused, so Azriel did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed her around the waist, noting how perfectly the curve of her hips fit into his hands, pulled her to him and walked through the shadows. The shadowsinger bit his lip to stop the groan that threatened to spill out of him as Elain wrapped her legs around his hips, wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself, and clung to him like the scrap of her nightgown was clinging to her.

Azriel picked the only place he could think of to shadow walk to - his bedroom. He gently placed Elain down on the bed and took a step back.

Elain was sitting on his bed, in a ripped nightgown, while his shadows glided over her skin as if they wanted to caress her just as badly as he did. The small fire was burning just enough that he could make out the delicate features that graced her face - Azriel was going to have to thank whichever twin wraith had the forethought to light a fire for him in the middle of August.

“What happened? Did we shadow walk again?” Elain rasped, her breathing uneven and shallow, and Azriel used all of his willpower not to stare at her chest which was heaving up and down. The fire light was just strong enough to make out the sheen of sweat that coated her body. Apparently, being spymaster for hundreds of years didn’t grant him enough willpower not to stare at her chest. At the nod of his head Elain said, “It was nicer this time. Less stabbing.”

Azriel felt his lips twitch at her attempt to lighten the mood. He knew she was referring to the war against Hybern where she walked through his shadows to change the tide of the war.

“My shadows warned me that someone was coming. Otherwise I wouldn’t have stopped.” Azriel said in a voice that was steadier than he felt.

“Oh, good,” Elain breathed and Azriel felt his heart stop in his chest. “This gives us time to talk.”

Elain looked delectable sitting on his bed. Her rumpled appearance was so at odds with how she normally looked, and Azriel was loving every second of it.

“Talk?” Azriel repeated, hopefully his voice was as unreadable as he wanted it to be. He still had the taste of her on his tongue, on his lips, and she wanted to talk? Fear started gnawing at his insides.

“Yes, talk about whatever this forbidden nonsense is and why you’ve been staying away from me. And why someone else was wearing my necklace… I guess I shouldn’t really call it my necklace anymore,” Elain said with downcast eyes that were focused on her hands, which were clasped on her lap. “I’m afraid I’m more than a little confused. And I would like no misunderstandings before we…” Her voice trailed off. She caught her bottom lips between her teeth and Azriel wanted to run his thumb across it, and cast all worries from her mind.

Azriel looked down at her, at the little fawn that somehow found herself in death’s bed, and cupped her face. He did exactly what he wanted to for once in his life, and ran his thumb across her soft lip which was red and plump from their kissing. Satisfaction started to grow in his chest as the knowledge that he was the one responsible for her disheveled appearance; her swollen lips, mused hair, and torn nightgown. The wings jerked, but Az managed to suppress the urge to preen and peacock.

The brown eyes that looked up at him were conflicted. He wanted to remove the hesitation that churned in her eyes and replace it with trust, and maybe something else. The openness on her face, her emotions which she was learning to control so well were on full display, caused his heart to flutter.

“What do you want to know first?” He asked.

Azriel dropped his hands and crossed them over his chest, and then dropped them again. What the hell was a man supposed to do with his hands? All his hands wanted to do were touch every inch of her skin, tangle in her hair, and explore her body. He fought the urge to hide them behind his back - Elain had never once looked at them in disgust, and he wasn’t going to do her the discourtesy of acting like she had. Even Rysand or Cassian would stare at his hands sometimes, but never Elain. She simply accepted him.

“The necklace?” Elain asked quietly.

“I picked it out for you, as you know,” Azriel responded and continued at the nod of her head. “After I had a conversation with Rhysand I found myself at the library for some reason, and while I was there I saw Gwyn training. We talked briefly, and when I ran into Clotho I asked her to give the necklace to Gwyn. I don’t know why I did it, but I did. I realize that’s not the most… satisfying answer.”

A frown appeared between her delicate eyebrows and Azriel wanted to kiss it away.

“Do you ever wear the earplugs I gave you?”

The shadowsinger blinked at the question before responding, “Yes, sometimes when Nesta and Cassian are louder than normal. They like to travel around and I never know when I’m going to hear them, so I have your gift on me at all times.”

“Good,” Elain said with a nod. She looked a little more certain of herself. “I think you should wear them when you sleep, just so you don’t accidentally hear something you don’t want to.”

“I will.” Azriel said with a soft smile on his lips. There wasn’t much he could do for her, but he could grant that one request, no matter how small it might be.

“Why did you not kiss me? That night of the solstice I thought you wanted to kiss me. Was I wrong?” Elain nervously gnawed at her lip, but her voice was steadier than it was before.

“I wanted to kiss you,” Azriel said after taking a deep breath. His eyes watched how her face moved, the subtle changes that occurred - how her teeth released her lip, how her brow relaxed just a bit, and how her eyes warmed as they drifted to meet his. “I would have kissed you. I would have done more than kiss you, but Rhysand interrupted. He saw us, and he didn’t like it, especially with Lucien in the house. With the tentative peace in Prythian and then the potential with whatever the hell might happen with Koschei, Rhys doesn’t want to leave Prythian vulnerable.”

“And he thinks that we - you and I- would make Prythian vulnerable?” Elain asked.

Az could see the thought toiling inside of her head, and he would have given anything to be able to read her mind right now. A small, hesitant smile appeared on her lips. “I had no idea we were so important. While, obviously I know you’re important, but I didn’t realize the future of Prythian rested on whom I… had feelings for.”

The blush that bloomed against her cheeks was precious. A tug pulled at his heart when he saw it, and Az wanted to brush his lips against her cheeks so he could feel how warm she was.

“Lucien as your mate,” The words felt sour in his mouth and curdled his stomach. The thought of someone else having any type of claim on her set Azriel on edge in a way that he really didn’t want to analyze. “Would be able to claim the Blood Duel. An Autumn Court tradition that usually ends in death, however, it would not have ended in mine. I wouldn’t let it.” Azriel waited for a moment before he continued, his voice dropping, “I would kill for you.”

His hands tighten into fists. Az hated what he would do for her because he would do anything for her, and it almost frightened him.

A small hand reached out and wrapped around his fist.

Azriel looked down and saw Elains flawless hand on his scarred one. His heart beat a little too frantically for someone who was more than willing to kill for the female in front of him. Az had been in countless battles, had tortured more people than he could remember, and yet this small gesture threatened to undo him.

“You don’t scare me,” Elain said with a gentle smile. She had moved so that she was kneeling on the bed, her head just barely reaching his shoulders.“I would do anything for you too. I already killed once, for Nesta and Feyre, and I would do it for you if I had to. However, I think we could figure out a way for us to be together that doesn’t result in Lucien's death, or anyone’s death for that matter. That is - if you want to be together.”

His rough hand reached up and brushed away the golden hair that had fallen in her face. There was something buried so deeply in him, something so ingrained and entrenched, that he couldn’t believe the words coming out of Elains mouth.

“Are you sure?” Az whispered.

All the shadowsinger saw was an excited nod before Elain launched herself at him. Her lips missed their mark and landed sloppily on his cheeks. Azriel had just enough sense to catch her, but as soon as she was in his arms she was gone.

Elain backed away slowly, her arm outstretched as if to keep him away. A smile of pure joy graced her lips, her tongue wet her lips before saying, “Not yet. If I stay then I know we’ll do what we both want to do. I want to be free when we are together for the first time; I don’t want anyone else’s claim on me, and I want to make sure that there isn’t a single doubt in that beautiful head of yours about who holds my heart. I don’t know when it will happen, or how, but I know it will be perfect because it will be us.”

She had backed her way to the door and slipped out after saying a quick goodbye.

Azriel wasn’t sure how long he stayed there staring at the door with a goofy grin on his face, but at some point he managed to crawl into bed and drift off to sleep with her scent surrounding him.

#elain archeron #elain acotar #elriel fanfic #pro elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elriel #after the ceremony #after the ceremony chapter two #my fanfiction #my work

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