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#and i think that words are incredibly important and you should always consider that they always carry meaning
rekino2114 · 14 hours
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Denji discovering your relationship with makima
This is kind of a sequel to this, like all of the makima posts that I will do
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"Is it just me, or does makima seem happier lately"
Aki almost immediately regretted starting a conversation with that question when he heard denji's answer
"I dunno but she's still as hot as always"
"I can't imagine what she would have done to you if she had heard that. What I meant is that she seems... more genuine if that makes sense, like something really good just happened to her. Before, she had this uncanny aura around her, but now she just feels happy."
"I believe I, the great power know the reason why"
"Oh really, why then?"
"I believe makima is in a relationship with someone"
"WHAT?"
After he heard that, denji immediately lunged at power and shook her by the shoulders.
"WITH WHO?"
"I've heard it's with a certain human called y/n l/n"
"Ah yes, I have heard of y/n. Apparently, they joined public safety just a while ago but have managed to climb through the ranks incredibly quickly, even reaching the rank of makima's most trusted subordinate. Some even consider them her right-hand person. I did hear rumors of them being in a relationship, but I never thought they'd be true"
"I'll fucking kill them, I'll slice them in half, no one steals miss makima from me"
Before aki or power could stop him, denji stormed out of the house and went to public safety headquarters, and entered makima's office and found you two......kissing.
"Ah denji, I thought I informed everyone that I was in a very important meeting, may I ask why are you here"
"Sorry, Miss makima i-i just"
"It's fine. I think I know why. Anyway, now that you're here, I should probably introduce you to each other. Y/n,this is denji, a member of Division 4 and the Chainsaw Hybrid. Denji this is y/n, my second in command and...... my lover."
Your heart skipped a bit. That was the first time she had called you her lover in front of another person. Meanwhile, denji could feel his own heart breaking at those words(poor pochita), and he immediately sprinted at you
"So it's true you're the one who stole Miss makima from me"
"I suggest you do not touch them, you might not like what happens if I find a single scratch or bruise on them"
Those intimidating words from makima were enough to make him stop.
"i-i'm sorry miss makima but could I ask why are you in a relationship with them"
"Simple, because I love them. They made me feel happy, and I eventually understood that it was love"
"I-i see sorry if I wasted your time, I'll go now."
Before he could walk out, makima placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Wait, denji, I want to tell you something. Even if I do not love you, I'm sure other girls will. Even with all of your flaws, you're a good person, which... is a lot more than I can say about the me from a couple months ago. What I'm trying to say is.. if someone managed to love and change me, then you absolutely have a chance"
She spoke with a sweet and caring tone devoid of any manipulation or evil. For some reason, she felt the need to comfort him... you had truly changed her.
Denji, after hearing that, immediately broke into a smile, showing his very sharp teeth
"Thank you so much, Miss makima I feel a lot more confident now"
He walked out of the building, leaving you two alone once again, makima walked near the window and looked at the sunset while thinking:she had helped someone feel happy, she had gained nothing from it and yet it felt so much better than when she manipulated people.
"Are you alright makima, you look... emotional"
Your words made it clear to her, Yes, emotional she was happy now, and she was emotional, and she loved this feeling.
"No, it's alright dear. I was wondering if you would like to have a movie date tonight?"
"Of course there's this new, really good movie everyone is talking about"
She turned to you and smiled brightly
"No, I was actually in the mood for a bad movie today. Is it alright?"
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shotoh · 1 year
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all mine
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SYNOPSIS: Bakugou decides to put his delusional secretary in their place.
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pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader
word count: 9.6k+
genre: fluff, SMUT, maybe a smidgen of angst
tags/warnings: 18+! minors dni! reader is not the secretary, basically this other lady is trying to seduce your man but katsuki isn’t falling for it! marking, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), riding, soft!bakugou but also mean!bakugou, humiliation (not really at reader), a couple spanks, office sex, praise, degradation, pet names (baby, princess, angel), crude language
author’s notes: this is very overdue, like incredibly overdue LOL i started this wip last year but could only continue writing during random bouts of inspiration. so i apologize if the smut is a little half-assed and if the characterization is questionable. but enjoy my late kinktober 2022 present to y’all 
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The sound of Dynamight’s heavy boots hitting the floor resonate throughout the wide hallways of his agency, drowning out the heels clicking behind him. A woman quickens her pace in an attempt to catch up to the impatient blond hero, rushing into his peripheral vision.
“Sir? Oh Bakugou sir~” The dulcet chime calling him is sickly sweet, enough to make him grimace. “I need you to look over these reports before I file them away.” She whips out one of the thick packets of papers clutch to her chest, bringing his steps to a halt which makes the hero point a glare at her.
“How many times do I have to fucking tell you that you’re suppose to call me by my hero name.” Malice coats his words, dripping off his tongue as he swipes the reports from her fingers. The woman, to the hero’s annoyance, indulges in his feisty attitude.
“Aw, but ‘Bakugou’ is more fitting given how closely we work together!” She waves off his displeasure, hoping her excessively cheerful personality can tone him down. “I am your secretary, after all.” She leans into his space, too damn close for his liking by how he could get a whiff of her pungent perfume. The overbearing scent has him side-stepping to create more distance between them.
The blond rolls his eyes before giving the papers in his hand a once-over, not even granting her the satisfaction of eye contact. “You work at a Pro-Hero agency, not some ordinary office job.”
Normally, he isn’t one to admonish any of his employees unless they’re his sidekicks. He’s always out and about on missions, never dawdling around the office long enough to find anything to scold them about. So long as they were competent at their job, he never had to give them any earfuls. But this woman here has been testing that resolve.
A month into her new position, his secretary has been greeting him every morning with far more energy than should be considered possible at such an hour. Her regular tasks shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. She was mostly tasked with filing villain reports and contacting other Pro-Hero agencies, but her enthusiasm warrants him to think otherwise.
She deliberately shares elevator rides with him, droning on and on about god knows what before getting off at her floor, ending their dull conversations with winks and wide-eyed smiles that make him want to gag. It’s one thing to be genuinely excited about your job, but it’s another thing to be attached to your boss at the hip. She’s at his beck and call when he doesn’t even ask for her.
One can chalk this up to her simply gunning for a promotion, buttering up her boss to garner his favor. However, Bakugou isn’t an idiot. He can read the air, deciphering the meaning behind her words and advances. Her deceptive guise of a hardworking secretary beneath those batting eyelashes is easily uncovered by him.
If she was really trying so hard for a promotion she’d approach him with more important topics in mind. Statistics, analysis, updates on villain activity and hero work. Y’know, discussions that would actually benefit his agency rather than waste his time.
Instead, Bakugou stands there listening to… this.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” her voice drifts off as she taps a finger against her bottom lip pensively, “we should consider holding a party to get to know all our co-workers better!” she proposes. The blond narrows his brows incredulously at her suggestion.
Oblivious to his lack of interest, she moves closer to him, caressing a hand along his hard bicep. She tip-toes her fingers up his arm before flattening her digits next to his ear to whisper, “Company members only, of course. But I’m sure we’d still have a fun time even if it was just the two of us, right?”
Recognizing the suggestive lilt in her tone, he shoves her off of him without even touching her, abruptly tossing his shoulder back. The secretary freezes and comes across the peeved expression on the explosion hero’s rough features.
“We’re here to beat villains and protect civilians, not throw dumb parties.”
“But–”
“Shut it,” he retorts harshly, not letting the bewildered look on the secretary’s face demur him. He shoves the reports back in her arms. “Just do your damn job.” With his brows taut behind his mask, the blond glares hard at her, watching her fumble with the papers before he resumes the rhythm of his combat boots stepping down the hallway. The hero gives her one last glance over his shoulder.
“And remember, it’s Dynamight to you.”
.
.
Man, what an annoying woman.
Is the thought that plagues Bakugou’s mind as he stands beneath the running water in his shower, washing away the sweat and grime accumulated from another busy day of heroics. Yet he still can’t get the irritating thoughts in his head to do the same.
His fingers weave the shampoo through his spikey locks, the pads of his digits massaging his scalp. Glancing at his reflection in the foggy, glass screen door, he meets his scowling mug.
“Tryna get in my pants and shit… Worry about keeping your damn job,” he grumbles to himself exasperatedly. What he finds especially annoying is knowing his secretary will start the day again tomorrow as if nothing happened. Even with Bakugou’s firm stance at wanting to keep things strictly professional, she’s going to continue getting up in his space, trying to caress her nails up his arm, and stink up the place with what he swore was five different kinds of perfume sprayed on her clothes.
But Bakugou’s not some oblivious fool. He can recognize from a mile away what her goal is and he absolutely wants no part in it.
Besides...
“Katsuki! Dinner will be ready when you’re done showering!”
His head swivels toward the door of the bathroom. “Yeah I heard ya!”
He’s already got someone deserving of his time and affection.
You.
“’Kay!” you reply, voice gradually growing louder. Bakugou hears your feet plodding toward the bathroom door just as the door creaks open slightly. “I’ll leave you a new towel to use after you’re done showering, too.” Even through the steam, he can recognize your silhouette peeking inside to drop the towel off. Unbeknownst to you, behind the cloudy glass door of the shower there’s a smile that finds his lips.
After washing the lather off his hair and body, he shuts the water. The last streams falling from the showerhead glide down his skin, joining the suds on the floor before they all disappear down the drain. As the thick steam surrounding him dissipates, he covers his toned body in the towel you left for him.
While patting down the excess droplets cascading his blond locks, Bakugou puts on some sweatpants, but forgoes his t-shirt for now, leaving it hanging over his shoulder. He continues rubbing the towel around his torso as he exits the bathroom.
The savory aroma of thick cheeses and tomato sauces hits Bakugou’s nose the moment he enters the kitchen. He stops in his tracks to take in the pleasant smells, along with the sight in front of his eyes that effortlessly forms a grin on his face.
Your soft hums accompany the harmonious atmosphere of the kitchen. Bakugou’s ruby eyes rove over you shimmying your way around an array of pans and plates like you own the place (which you essentially do), watching you finish piecing your dinner together with a generous sprinkle of garnish and spices.
Eyes never leaving you, an expression of admiration and fondness paints his usually hardened face. With arms crossed over his chest, he could just stand there, admire you, and be more than wholly content. You could do the most mundane things and still have him wrapped around your finger—not that he’d ever mention that to you out loud of course. Occasionally, Bakugou wonders how he ever got so lucky with you in the first place.
You’re so blissfully unaware of your hotheaded boyfriend lurking nearby. It’s all the more apparent by how you abruptly pause as soon as you discover him idling in the kitchen doorway in all of his half-naked glory.
The blond doesn’t let the fact that you’re practically ogling his hard muscle slip past him, and definitely doesn’t miss your moment of hesitation before you avert your gaze, your cheeks growing hot. It brings a smirk to his face and his ego through the roof.
Bakugou tosses his towel and t-shirt somewhere off the side before coming to you. “What? Getting flustered or something, babe?” he taunts. His deep tone hovers next to your ear as his chest touches your back. His hands are on either side of you, trapping you against the counter.
“That fuckin’ hot that I got you this speechless?” His breath is so close to you, he just knows you have goosebumps trailing down your spine. He can tell by the heat swirling in your cheeks just how much he has an effect on you and he absolutely loves how easily he can get you flustered.
Though he can’t say he’s all but immune to your charms, either. He trails a calloused hand up your bare thigh and hips, giving your ass a firm squeeze through your booty shorts which causes a yelp to flee your lips.
Fuckin’ hell.
The way you were dancing around in these things, tip-toeing to reach high cabinets that caused the shorts to ride up slightly and give him a glimpse of the plushness peeking past the fabric already had Bakugou half-hard simply standing behind you. But being able to touch what was essentially his started to make the material of his sweatpants absolutely suffocating.
In a single motion, he spins you around. Your back is pinned against the counter as you’re forced to face him. The cocky grin plastered on his lips greets you.
Finally grasping your composure, you raise an eyebrow at him. “For someone who wanted to take a shower as soon as their stinky-self got home, you sure are eager to get dirty again,” you retort, tracing your hands up his arms to place them on his broad shoulders. “Work didn’t get you sweaty enough?”
The blond chuckles lowly at your cheekiness. His face inches closer, mere centimeters away from your lips. “I could go for an extra workout,” he says huskily, voice dissipating with the shortening distance between you.
His eyes are lidded as he targets your lips, hands leaving the edge of the counter in favor of wrapping his arms around your waist. To his surprise, when he darts forward he meets nothing but air.
Hearing your giggles beside him breaks the tension between you. He opens his eyes and discovers that you’ve tilted your head out of the way. Before he can open his mouth to spit a retort, you rest your head against his shoulder, arms winding at his neck.
“Food’s gonna get cold, big boy,” you hum.
The noise that leaves his gritted teeth is practically a growl. “Dun care about the food–” His hands at your sides play with the waistband of your shorts. “Would rather eat you out on this counter.”
He watches you gulp down the lump in your throat, finding the idea tempting as a dull throb aches between your legs. But to his dismay, you don’t want to let him indulge in you just yet.
You lean forward to kiss his cheek to prepare him for your next words, “First and foremost, dinner. And then I'll let you do whatever you want with me. How’s that?” You tiptoe to peck his nose one more time for good measure before wriggling free from his clutches. You shuffle away to the steaming hot food you left on the other end of the counter.
Pink swathes his cheeks as Bakugou stands there dumbfounded. He rubs the back of his head, his brows furrowing in frustration.
“You’re killing me here, dammit.”
You let out another dulcet giggle. The urge to sneak up on you again to try to get you all hot and bothered lingers until it’s interrupted by a piece of fabric thrown in his face. “Also, shirt on we please.” You turn back at him with two plates of stuffed ravioli perched on each hand. “No shirt, no service.”
He yanks the white t-shirt off his face, grimacing as he begrudgingly pulls it over his head. “Yeah, yeah. You love it though.” Nonetheless, he follows behind you while the savory aroma of your food creates a path toward the dining table. The scent alone makes his stomach growl, the effects of a long day at work making themselves apparent.
Despite the antics he has to put up with, he can’t help but soften around you. It’s as if you possess an innate ability to effortlessly get him to shed his notoriously rough exterior.
He takes a seat on his side of the table, his stomach now growling loud enough for you to hear. You tease a wry grin before placing the ravioli dishes on the table, letting the delicious aromas waft around him, his mouth watering.
“I know it’s been a long day for you so you better eat up, hero.”
The blond’s eyes flicker for a second, chest enveloped with pride as he meets the look on your face that awaits for him in anticipation to dig in. “Yeah… Thanks for the meal,” he murmurs, mild gratitude woven in his words as he picks up the fork and finally chows down.
Again, what did he ever do to deserve you? He knows how hard you work each and every day. The fact that you’re still willing to love and take care of him is enough for him to want to cherish you for an eternity. Coming home to the person he loves and sharing meals with them is a blessing to him as it is and he absolutely wouldn’t trade this for anything else.
Which just makes the matter of his secretary all the more annoying to him.
The damn woman has walked in his office plenty of times to see the framed picture of you two on his desk, even occasionally interrupting his phone calls with you that would end with him mouthing low “love yous” before he’d have to turn around to acknowledge the petty expression resting on her face. He’d watch as her demeanor quickly shifted into a full 180—from a bitter frown to a forced grin to keep up her facade. She definitely knows he’s in a happy, committed relationship. The real question is whether or not she cares enough to acknowledge the fact.
He could just fire her for unprofessionalism. That seems like an obvious solution, but knowing her, she’d probably feed the media some false rumors about alleged abuse towards his employees. Of course, that wouldn’t at all be true. Far from it, but the news loved to twist the truth so long as it got them clicks. Given Bakugou’s naturally rugged demeanor, it wouldn’t be hard for the public to buy their shit and for his ranking on the hero chart to plummet. Which Bakugou could not afford right now considering how close he was to the top.
“’Tsuki, stop playing with your food.” He hears you chide, tugging him from his contemplation.
Bakugou huffs, jamming his fork onto the plate. “I’m not a damn kid.”
“Right, tell that to the ravioli you’re mangling with your fork.” You raise your brow and point at his stabbed and defeated pasta, the filling oozing out from the punctured holes. He keeps his gaze suspiciously fixed on the ravioli.
Does it taste bad? You wonder warily. “If you don’t like it then you don’t have to eat it, y’know.”
“What? No– The food’s fine.” He stuffs three pastas in his mouth one after the other. “Fucking delicious,” he mutters through ungracious chewing, cheeks puffed profusely, bringing a grin to your face.
“What’s wrong then? Bad day at work?”
He swallows his food. “Could say that,” he answers, resting his head against his propped arm. “Just some employee causing trouble.”
“Hopefully it’s not one of your sidekicks,” you pick at the raviolis while stuck in your musing, “I remember your first batch of recruits when you just started your own agency. You nearly scared half of them away by the end of the week.”
“How else was I supposed to whip those newbies into shape?” He lounges in his seat. “If they can’t take some yelling from a Pro, then they’re definitely not ready for the real hero world. Besides, they were the ones that came to my agency knowing that I’m the best,” he boasts with confidence, shoving more pasta in his mouth, and munching at his leisure.
“Also, it’s not a sidekick. Just some lady who can’t do her fuckin’ job.”
“Aw, cut her some slack, I’m sure she’s trying her best.”
Bakugou almost scoffs. If you knew the real reason for her lack of work ethic, you’d be on the same page as him.
Either way, he really needs to get this secretary off his back before shit blows out of proportion. If pictures, phone calls—hell—even lunch dates can’t get her to wake up, then what?
To his surprise, the idea actually comes to him quicker than he anticipated, red eyes perking up at a scheme forming in his head.
Of course. Heh, why didn’t I think of that sooner?
This is how he’s going to do it, he thinks. His lips barely resist the urge to quiver into a smirk that will no doubt have you questioning whatever was riling him up. Swallowing his final piece of pasta, Bakugou pushes his plate away but aims his fork in your direction.
“You free tomorrow?”
“I just have to drop off some papers at work in the morning. Why?”
“Good. Come by the agency for lunch.”
Your brows furrow at how sudden the request is, however, you go along with it. “Okay, should I make lunch for us?”
“Nah, don’t. I’ll order something,” he assures, but in his head he’s sure lunch would be the last thing on your mind tomorrow afternoon with what he has planned for you, him, and his secretary.
Bakugou scoots his seat back, leaning over on your side of the table. “Now, I remember a certain brat made a promise to me after dinner was done.”
“Hold it, I still have a piece–”
“Nuh-uh, c’mere–” He lightly pushes your hand away, and with effortless strength, pulls you out of your chair and over his shoulder. “Already waited too damn long.”
“Whoa..!” Your last piece of pasta falls back on the plate, forgotten. You watch as the distance between you and the dining table diminishes, the impatient blond leading you two into the hallway. At your fidgeting, he swats your thigh, warning you to stay fucking still unless you want to accidentally fall on your face.
With a squeal escaping your lips, you comply. As a reward, he presses his lips against the side of your ass as you’re still hanging over him, nipping at your curves. Your yelps are replaced by laughter. The ticklish sensation nearly makes you squirm again if not for Bakugou dropping you unceremoniously onto your bed.
“You better make it up to me for having to make me wait, Princess.” His emphasis on what is supposed to be your endearing little pet name comes out as a snarl as you’re cornered against the sheets. Expecting this kind of intense reaction from him after your meal, you grin slyly.
“I mean the ravioli was good, wasn’t it?”
Well that he can’t deny. Still, the blond smirks, showing his pearly canines. “Yeah, but,” he moves away from you, kneeling while grabbing at the hem of his shirt to pull it off,
“I’m still fuckin’ hungry.”
.
.
There is no doubt that the next day, you woke up incredibly sore. Sore yet also just as happy.
The tension in your muscles had dissipated as a result of being repeatedly fucked into your own mattress last night, allowing you to sleep soundly. So soundly that you don’t even notice your boyfriend leaving for work that morning. But it can’t be helped given how ungodly early his hero work starts every day.
Some hours after Bakugou has already left, your alarm goes off to remind you that it’s about time to begin your day. Even after a spent night, you can’t bear the thought of lying in bed anymore, especially with how cold the sheets had become, devoid of the blond’s natural warmth. Plus you had something to look forward to this afternoon—your lunch date.
Once you get washed and dressed, you grab your business files from your desk and dash out the door to drop off your papers at work.
Before you know it, it’s noon and you’re standing in front of the receptionist’s desk at Dynamight’s agency.
While you wait for the receptionist to finish their business call, you think back on the employee Bakugou mentioned yesterday. You note in the foreground how busy the entire place looks, which doesn't surprise you. The agency runs like a well-oiled machine. With all the hustle and bustle going on, it seems like everyone is doing their job with peak efficiency. Honestly, you can’t imagine anyone wanting to test the wrath of the explosive Number Two Hero, but you assume such people existed.
“Thank you for waiting! Here to see Mister Dynamight?” The receptionist greets you after hanging up their call, immediately recognizing you from your prior visits.
“Yeah, just coming by for lunch.”
“He’s in his office right now so I’ll let him know you’re here then.”
You mouth a thank you, followed by a farewell wave as you make your way to the elevator.
“’Suki’s office should be on… this floor…” you murmur, pressing the corresponding button on the panel. While you wait for the doors to close, you spot a figure approaching from a distance. You can see the person’s wrinkled professional attire, disheveled hair, and slightly smeared makeup as she approaches the elevator clumsily.
“H… Hold the door!” she pants.
Hearing her frantic request, your mind catches up with you. You jam your index finger on another button on the panel, keeping the doors open just long enough for the woman to slip inside and catch her breath.
You watch her ungraciously drop to the floor, lungs gasping for air. “That was a close one.” You bend down to extend a helping hand.
She sputters as she reaches out to you, “Yeah, thanks, I– Wait, you’re...” When she looks up, her eyes squint to get a better look at your face, brows knitting together as she recognizes your features. Dismissing your help, she abruptly retracts her hand before getting up on her own. You cock your head suspiciously when you notice her change in demeanor.
“Oh, I’m just stopping by to have lunch with my boyfriend. He’s your, uh,” you piece your words as eloquently as you can, “boss.”
It’s always difficult for you to tell any of Bakugou’s staff that you’re his girlfriend. You’d done it before in front of his group of sidekicks while waiting outside his office and as a result they all flipped, bombarding you with questions about your relationship before falling dead silent when his door suddenly swung open.
You’re expecting the same, if not, a similar reaction here, but you’re surprised to see a deadpan look in the woman’s eyes. She averts her gaze. You glance over at her, taking note of her fists shaking at her sides and how she bites the inside of her cheek which forms a pout on her lips.
You’re beginning to wonder if you shouldn’t have disclosed that information. “Are you okay?” you inquire, your voice filled with genuine concern. She eventually turns to look at you straight on, her expression teetering between a smile and a scowl. In any case, she tries to steer you away from the elephant in the room.
“Yep! Just peachy!” she assures through a strained grin that makes you all the more suspicious of her. Even if you want to question it, she has no intention of continuing the conversation. Her lips press together in an effort to maintain her smile, or else risk blurting something that should’ve stayed in her mouth. You keep to yourself in the elevator so as not to bother her, but the prolonged silence, combined with the elevator’s incessant dinging throughout each ascending floor, creates a suffocating atmosphere.
With every floor you pass you soon realize that despite keeping your distance, she’s still looking in your general direction. You notice her sneaking glances at you and your neck grows hot as you follow where her eyes wander. You press your palm against your jugular, the spot you recall Bakugou laying his teeth on last night.
I thought I covered that…
You want to chastise yourself for not spending enough time this  morning to conceal the blemishes on your neck. Your coworker had even commented on them before you left for Dynamight’s agency, to your embarrassment.
You settle for letting out an uneasy chuckle while adjusting the collar of your shirt. Though the majority of Bakugou’s staff are already aware of your relationship, you’d rather hide any detail of your sex life if possible. You’d prefer not being the hot talk amongst the whole faculty.
You expect to be the brunt of the woman’s teasing next, anticipating her wiggling her brows or whistling, but she keeps her mouth shut and her expression even appears offended.
Fortunately, the elevator saves both of you from any more uncomfortable silences. Right on cue, the doors slide open for the woman to exit on her floor. She doesn’t spare you a glance on her way out, but you overhear her mutter under her breath, “Enjoy your lunch or whatever.”
She stomps in the opposite direction until her figure disappears behind closing doors. Your face scrunches. “What’s her deal?”
You’ve gotten used to the bitter reactions some people would give over the fact you and Bakugou are in a relationship. You kind of have to, considering who Bakugou is and the hoards of fans he’s accumulated over the years as a Pro-Hero. But any of the backlash you receive is mostly posted online by petty netizens. No one has the guts to confront you in person. Mostly because if they do, Bakugou has no qualms about retaliating with equal venom and more. This lady, on the other hand, works for Bakugou. When it comes to greeting her boss’s girlfriend, she should be professional, right?
You brush those thoughts away, recalling that no one should ever have to suck up to you simply because you're a Pro’s significant other. “She’s probably on the PR team.” You laugh off, remembering how much trouble it is to manage Bakugou’s public image and how she must be tired from working overtime.
The elevator dings one last time to indicate that you’ve arrived at your destination. When the doors part, the entrance to Dynamight’s office is directly across from you, passing a short corridor. Normally, sidekicks and employees had to press the button on the side of the door, or page him ahead of time before entering. However, you have the luxury of just swinging those doors open whenever you like.
“Heya, Katsu–”
“For the last fuckin’ time, there’s no way I’m going on that mission as his fucking standby.” The voice booming at the other end of the room behind a wide, wooden desk drowns out your voice. “Tell Grand that if he can’t find another B-rate hero agency like his to do his damn dirty work, then he can just fuck himself,” he spits into the receiver. He slams the phone down and hangs up the call without a second thought.
You announce your presence once more with a low whistle. Another one for the PR team. “Vulgar as usual,” you joke.
He sighs loudly, “The only way to get the message across their thick skulls is to beat it into their heads at this point,” he says, leaning against the large glass windows behind him. “That Shindou needs to get off my back. I thought I told everyone I wasn’t taking anymore calls from that asswipe.”
“I’m sure Grand will finally get the idea after he receives your message from his manager.” Slipping in next to him, you wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers delicately crawl up to his chin, tilting his head to face your smile. Bakugou reciprocates the gesture, his gloved hands gripping your waist and pulling you in as your lips briefly meet. When you part, you rest your forehead against his.
“How was patrol this morning, hero?” you whisper, playing with the tufts of hair above his neck.
“Same old shit,” he tells you quietly as you hum at his response, an amused grin tugging at the seam of your lips. Just as you’re about to separate, his hold at your sides tightens, locking your body against his.
“Bet you missed me, didn’t you, princess?” He leans in to nibble your jawline, causing laughter to tumble from your lips. “Bed got cold without me?”
Your answer is interrupted by a hand brushing up against the waistband of your pants, ruffling your tucked-in blouse. The man growls in the crook of your neck. “Didn’t have my cock to keep you nice and warm?”
Your nose scrunches at his unfiltered tongue. “Katsuki, I came here for lunch, remember?” You push at his chest, attempting to get him off you, but his teeth lock onto your clavicle.
“Food’s on the way,” he assures. Fingers play with the loops of your pants, dragging your shirt out slowly. “Might as well kill time–” His lips suddenly collide with yours, stealing your breath and drowning out any protests. He scuffs his teeth against your bottom lip, looking for a way in. You whimper in response at his persistence, stumbling backwards against the edge of his desk as he finally pries through your lips.
After an intense moment of kissing, his attention shifts to your jugular, nipping at the tender skin again. Every time his canines make contact with the broken skin, you wince. “Still got my marks all over ya,” he boasts, but the more skin he tries to unveil, the more he has to pull at your shirt’s collar which quickly annoys him. “Though I don’t understand what the hell you’re covering them up for.”
“D-Don’t want people to see…” you fumble with your excuses yet tilt your head to grant him better access. He scoffs at how your actions betray your words.
“Why does it matter when I want them to see? Let those fuckers look and know we’re together.” He licks one of the patches of broken skin. His harsh words make you shiver in his hold, but beneath his rough exterior, you sense a tender possessiveness in the amount of attention he pays to your body.
Your fingers brush through his hair, gently pulling him off of you so you can look him in the eyes, “You’re so damn insufferable, you know that?”
“Heh, you like it though,” Bakugou counters. You click your tongue, feigning ignorance. With his hand wrapped at the nape of your neck, he thumbs at your blemishes. His ruby eyes take their time to admire every inch of his claim on you. “You were clenching whenever I marked you. Screaming nice and loud too.”
“I bet the neighbors hate us now…” You sigh quietly.
“Took them that long?” He grins, almost proud of being a menace to those extras next door despite being a heroic figure. “Besides, not my fault you let me do whatever I wanted to you.” You pout, but accept it’s a fact you very well can’t deny.
As his deft hands unfasten each button of your blouse, he switches your positions. He yanks your shirt, dragging the fabric down your shoulders to reveal your skin and the bra hugging your chest. Licking his lips, he removes his thick gloves before hoisting you up to sit on the desk with him, making you straddle his thighs. Another pause of appreciation for the blossoms adorning your chest makes him blurt out, “Maybe I should let you mark me up just as much.”
You look at him precariously. He doesn’t take back the grin on his face. Seeing your wide-eyed expression, he cups your jaw, pulling you toward him. “What’s the look for? I know you’ve thought about it, princess.” Bakugou reads you like a book. He revels in your flustered face, telling him how right he is.
The image of his scarred, toned skin covered in hickeys has crossed your mind more times than you can count, but you’ve always been too engrossed in the intoxicating sensation of his teeth grazing every stretch of your skin to ever have an opportunity to bring the thought to light. Bakugou never gives you an inch when it comes to taking the reins in the bedroom. But now he’s practically granting you the opportunity on a silver platter.
You point a dubious look at him. “Are you serious, or did you bump your head somewhere earlier on patrol?” Anticipating your skeptical response, a chuckle rumbles low in his throat. He scoots back to remove his tank top, letting your hands lay over his chiseled physique. Your fingers immediately trace the scars and cuts lining his muscles, each one standing as a testament to every one of his battles. The idea of your own marks joining his adonis of a canvas has your eyes fluttering.
“’s no joke, babe,” he clarifies, a wicked grin plastered on his face. He then remembers why he made this whole arrangement in the first place. “Aren’t you tired of those fuckin’ extras always ogling me—looking at me up and down like they even have a damn chance to touch all of this?” He grabs your wrist and guides your hands above his chest, your fingertips brushing his collarbones.
You bite your lower lip. “Well…”
Hearing your voice linger, he snarls, “Are you seriously hesitating?”
It’s not like you hadn’t ever clenched your fists in front of the TV whenever your boyfriend was being interviewed by some mischievous news reporter or journalist. They never make it subtle when casting one too many glances at the Pro’s sweaty, skintight attire, staring into his red eyes for so long that they started looking dumb. Though as much as dark green jealousy occasionally takes root in your subconsciousness, you never act on your displeasure.
In the back of your mind, you always saw it as a sign of clinginess. But Bakugou sees it differently. To him, he’d want nothing more than his girl staking their claim on him. For you to get needy, jealous, possessive. Let the entire world know that you both belong to each other and no one else.
You fix your gaze at his cynical expression that eggs you on. Before you know it, you lunge forward. Your mouth latches onto his neck, arms curling around his shoulders. Bakugou draws you skin-to-skin, his low chuckle reverberating in the depths of his chest.
“Ooh, that’s it,” he encourages, rubbing your back. His other hand palms your ass, rocking you both back and forth, grinding his bulge against the crotch of your jeans. Your teeth cling to him, sinking into his skin. Your lips vibrate against his collarbones while you whimper at the delicious friction on your clit.
“Harder. I wanna see nice ol’ purple marks here,” he orders, relentlessly rolling his hips. You want to slap him on the wrist, your concentration waning as heat quickly pools in your abdomen. As if the grinding isn’t enough, Bakugou effortlessly undos the button of your jeans. He pulls down the zipper before reaching inside and touching you through your underwear.
“Fuck, already this wet from a little grinding? Nasty girl,” he hisses, running his index and middle finger across the ruined crotch of your panties. “Or maybe marking me is getting you all riled up?”
“Shut up–” you mutter half-heartedly. With a pop, your lips leave him. You lean back to evaluate your work. They’re not as noticeable as the marks Bakugou usually gives you, but they’re visible, and they’re purple as requested.
A small trail of violet hickeys adorns the crook of the blond’s neck and collarbones. Your finger traces the path, eyes capturing the sheen of your saliva over the marks. His skin gleams in the sunlight streaming in through the windows.
Reaching inside the pocket of his baggy pants, Bakugou pulls out his phone to turn on the front-facing camera. He gets a clear view of your work on the screen, and his smirk appears on the display. “My girl did that, huh?” He cranes his neck to examine the blemishes from different angles. Soon after, you hear his camera’s shutter release, capturing the image and adding it to his gallery. He should really consider making an album out of these.
Tossing his phone to the side, those piercing red eyes return to you, and your assertiveness fades. He grabs your wrists and leans in to kiss your temple.
“You did well, princess.”
His hushed voice makes your cunt clench and your ears warm. “I'll be sure to show these off later,” he promises, his tone dripping with smugness.
God, you realize how little his hero costume does to hide any of those hickeys. Given that he has to go on patrol again soon, you can expect his neck to be a hot topic in the media. Regardless, you can’t deny the satisfaction that wells up in your chest at the thought.
Katsuki was right. You really are possessive over him. And of course, it goes both ways.
While you’re distracted by your epiphany, he uses this opportunity to unhook your bra, happily discarding the garment. You exhale as he roughly cups the underside of your breast. His breath tickles your perky nipple, strong arm hooking you into him.
The pattern of his breaths are erratic, excitement coursing through his veins. His carmine eyes are lidded as he flattens a tongue against the hardened nub. As Bakugou fully wraps his lips around the stiffening bud, sucking and biting to his heart’s content, mewls part your mouth.
“Your tits still taste fucking amazing,” he mutters, mouth caught between sucking and spewing obscenities. “These tits gonna give me some milk too, princess?”
“Don’t push your luck, mister,” you quip before biting your bottom lip. You concentrate on moving your hips back and forth against his thigh, trying to find the right angle that provides you with the delicious jolt of pleasure you craved between your thighs. With a smack, his lips leave your nipple.
“Guess I didn’t give you enough attention down here since you keep rutting against me like a needy slut.” He swats your ass before gripping the plushness harshly. The mild sting has your pussy clenching. “My baby doesn’t feel satisfied unless she’s getting stretched open by my cock, huh?”
Just a little bit of dirty talk from him is enough to make you whimper pathetically, “Please, ‘suki…”
“Please, what? Gotta tell me more than that, princess.” He tugs the waistband of your pants, teasing you. Never breaking eye contact, Bakugou’s hand sneaks under the edge of his desk. “Use your words, I want to know what I’m doing to you. Don’t skimp on the details.”
A light click goes off, but if you hear it you don’t make it apparent, too focused on the hot blond in front of you that was making your head spin.
“Fuck… ‘Suki, I feel so hot… Need you right now…” You grab his hand showing him your ruined panties by letting the pads of his fingers trail your wet pussy. “See? Look what you did, I’m soaked.”
Bakugou mutters curses under his breath, applying more pressure to your panties to thoroughly inspect the slick saturating the fabric. He couldn’t have asked for a better reaction, finding your pleading to be incredibly sinful and all-too-tempting. He considers it a waste that he isn’t recording anything. Well, maybe it isn’t an entire waste.
“Damn, how are you this messy? This pussy’s fucking sobbing for me.” You nod, sloppily gyrating on top of his hand. For once, Bakugou is considerate to your needs and slides your panties to the side to slip his digits across your bare folds. You both moan in unison, you at the extra relief and him at the slippery honey dripping down his knuckles.
In his eyes he was being generous, granting you his thick fingers prodding your silky walls rather than reduce you to pitifully grinding against him. But, being greedy, you thought he wasn’t being generous enough.
Bakugou’s fingers leave your cunt to sample you, wet digits laying flat on his tongue. “Fuck, I need to lick you clean right now.”
“N-No, ‘suki, jus’ want your cock in me already,” you whine with a pout. However, Bakugou is insistent on stealing more than just a little taste from your sweet cunt.
“Not gonna even let me indulge a little? Must have spoiled you with too much dick last night.” He scoffs, but doesn’t move to discard his uniform to free his hard cock. Instead, he motions you to step down and stand in front of him while he remains perched atop his desk.
He eyes you up and down. “What are you waiting for, princess? I want it all off already.”
Your fingers start moving toward your disheveled blouse. As fabrics pile the floor, you catch the blond licking his lips, lewdly eyeing your panties that slip down your legs to reveal your juices coating your inner thighs.
“Turn around and kneel on top of my chair.”
At his blunt tone, you obey. Dynamight’s luxurious office chair cushions your knees as you carefully lift your body onto it.
“Bend over.”
Without question, you use the arms of the chair as leverage to safely lean forward, spreading your pussy in front of him. As half of your face presses into the cushion of the head rest, you steal a glimpse of his reaction from your peripheral vision.
With a guttural hiss between his teeth, he gets off the desk, pulling the chair closer for an even better look at your glistening center. He palms your ass, rolling the globes in his hands before spreading them, exposing your slick folds.
“You seriously trying to deny me this angel cunt?” His words are emphasized with a quick smack before his tongue dives between your folds. You whine at the contact, his lips fluttering around your clit as it works its way up your slobbering hole.
Knees shaking, you subconsciously muffle your sounds as you press your face into the headrest of the office chair. Not satisfied with your muted cries, Bakugou reaches one hand toward your head. He cups your jaw, turning you more to the side so you aren’t hiding in the cushion. When his tongue swivels around your sensitive bud, your moans resonate across his office with euphoria.
“‘suki! I’m gonna–!”
“Gonna cum? Do it then you slut.”
At your warning, he works his mouth vigorously against your pussy, even adding two fingers into your walls. Your toes curl behind you as your grip on the arms of the chair tighten.
“Fuck, you’re dripping all over my damn office chair.”
Maybe you would’ve issued a half-hearted apology, if not for his tongue and its unrelenting intensity across your sensitive bundle of nerves. You only offer a string of moans that Bakugou happily accepts, smiling into your pussy as he feels you tense up against him.
“Ka..tsuki!!” You practically scream, electricity coursing through your skin as your orgasm shakes your entire body.
“That’s it, princess. Want your taste all over my tongue… So fucking good,” he drones against your folds, not letting a drop go to waste as you slowly come down from your post-orgasmic bliss.
“Ah! ‘Suki, I’m already too sensitive…” You gasp, still feeling him drunkenly licking up and down your slit despite you just coming. Reaching behind you, you weave your fingers through his ash blond hair, nudging at his scalp to try to push him away, but Bakugou’s strength clearly outweighs yours. He grips your wrist, lifting his face off your sloppy pussy of his own volition.
“That sensitive just from my tongue? Oh, sweetheart, I plan on ruining you in my office chair alone.” Keeping his word, he replaces your pliant body with his own, planting himself right on the cushioned seat with his legs spread thoughtlessly. He dashes for the hem of his pants, unfastening the zipper, and pulling down enough articles of clothing for his cock to spring out, stiff and glistening with his arousal.
Lust blown eyes admire the thickness of Bakugou’s shaft, rightdown to the veins on the ridges of his cock. A smirk and chuckle follow in the wake of your heady gawking, swearing that you look like you were about to pounce and give him the best head of his life. Sadly, as he glances at the digital clock perched behind you, he realizes there’s no time.
“Sorry, babe, food’s gonna be here any minute and I need you on my cock right fucking now.” He rolls the office chair closer to get a firm grasp of your hips, motioning you on top of him with rousing urgency. Thighs on either side of his own, you reach over your body to level his cock over your dripping folds.
The blond’s lips curl into a sneer beneath you, hands fondling your breast and ass—the latter spreading your cheek to help you accommodate his size. “Besides, this what you wanted, right? To be–” As you begin sinking down his length, your mouth opens in a soundless mewl. “–split open on me, even after I fucked you into the mattress last night?”
Your teeth tug at your bottom lip while you do your best to bottom out. Katsuki isn’t amused by your muted reaction, pinching your nipple as punishment and spurring his desired noises from you. “What did I say? Answer me, slut, you wanted to get fucked dumb again, didn’tcha?” His words are harsher this time, demanding your attention.
“Yes, yes! Wan’ you to make me your little cockwhore, ‘Suki…” you confess, moaning when you feel his dick fully impale you. At the same time, Bakugou hisses at how your walls mercilessly hug his shaft.
“Yeah princess, I’m going to give you exactly what you need– Fuck! How are you so damn tight?!” It hasn’t even been ten hours since he had sex with you, stretching you into his shape last night until the sun shined, and yet you still had the innate ability to squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of him and then some. At this rate, he’s not going to last. “Need you to move, baby. Ride me already.”
Hearing the urgency in his tone, your hips begin moving on their own, dragging yourself on and off his cock. Hands on his shoulders, you leverage yourself to maintain a steady rhythm that had you both delirious and panting in pleasure. The blond’s thick fingers dig into your soft flesh, growls leaving his lips as fire flares in his veins, threatening to ignite his last ounce of willpower to allow you to keep this sustained tempo.
“F-Feeling good, ‘suki?” you question, looking down at him with a sinful expression painted on your gorgeous face—pretty eyes half-lidded and needy just for him.
“Yeah… God you make me act up all the damn time I–” His cock twitches between your tight folds, eyeing you from below and watching you clasp his hand that’s pawing your breast to gesture to him to play with you some more. The sensual yet genuine smile you give him ultimately breaks his resolve.
Oh, fuck it.
As if chains have snapped around him, Bakugou suddenly shoots up, carrying your body against him. He lays you across his desk quickly but carefully, with little regard for whatever else tumbles and falls off of it except for you.
You squeal in surprise, your arms and legs attempting to find purchase around him before you’re reduced to jelly by the new quickening pace of his cock pounding your insides.
“Oh my god… Katsuki!” The obscene slapping of skin on skin accompanies your desperate cries throughout his office. Arms that were wound around his neck lose their hold on him, pathetically dropping to your sides to clasp Katsuki’s wrists, where he’s pulling your thighs apart to spread you open for his unrelenting thrusts.
“Sorry, princess… you looked so damn hot I couldn’t hold back anymore. Needed to feel you deeper and make you cream already.” His tepid apologies don’t reach your ears as you’re overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his movements, followed by a searing knot welling up in your abdomen.
By the looks of it, you have no objections to the turn of events, gazing dreamily at him as his hardened body hovers over you. From your point of view, you get glimpses of the sweat dotting his forehead, his nose scrunched in concentration, and narrowed ruby eyes glimmering with feral desire.
With stars in your eyes and features all flushed with warmth and lust, you sing a euphony of I love you’s between whimpers. Your voice catches in your throat when his cock repeatedly hits that sweet spot inside your gummy walls.
Bakugou can’t get enough of you, heart swelling with his affections that he can’t help but flick his wrist to intertwine his hand in yours. Despite his progressively carnal thrusts, he possesses contrasting tender devotions in his voice.
“I love you, princess. It’s been you and no one else. No other bitch can compare,” he repeats over and over like a mantra, a declaration of his loyalty to you and only you. You swear there’s an extra weight behind his words, but you’re too engrossed in the feeling of utter euphoria this man gives you in mind, body, and soul to give it a second thought. It’s as if you’re walking on Cloud 9 as your pussy clenches around him, back arching in the moment that’s pushing Bakugou to the breaking point
“So damn perfect, you were fucking made for me, baby. Give it to me, cum on my cock,” he pleads, “I know you’re almost there, princess.”
“Yea, ‘suki… Wanna cum for you, you make me feel so good,” you murmur brokenly, voice splintering into an incoherent babble that he finds so endearing, caressing your cheek while deepening his brutal pace. That knot in your tummy tightens and when the cord eventually snaps, you cry out, clutching onto his hand.
Katsuki insists he’s never seen a prettier sight than you finally losing yourself all because of him. It urges him to reach his own high and claim you in the only way he knows how—coming in your pretty cunt and dedicating himself wholly to you.
“Pretty angel, you’re making me crazy over here. Fuck! ‘Bout to blow my whole load inside you. That what you want?”
“Mhm! Please..!” You manage a few urgent pleas before Bakugou finally reaches his limit, groans resonating in the wake of his cock stuttering between your silky folds. His growls reverberate from the depths of his chest, thick with rapture as his body is bathed in the sweet sensation that is your entire being swallowing him whole. Ribbons of his cum paint your insides. You feel so full, both physically and spiritually, your heart bursting with love for the man that was spilling his adoration for you merely seconds ago.
Bodies spent and chests heaving, you lay on the desk with Katsuki on top of you. You don’t notice his hand sneaking under the desk, a click going off that goes equally overlooked, enveloped by your collective pants echoing in the stillness that is his hero office.
After a moment, the sensations catch up to you and the weight of his sweaty, heavy torso makes you squirm.
“Feel sticky…”
“There’s a shower and bath right there.” Bakugou grunts, but there’s playfulness behind his deceptively gruff mannerisms.
Your hands trail over his back at his response. “I know, but can you carry me?”
“Fine. Such a princess…”
“I’m your princess though.” You giggle, a teasing lilt in your carefree tone.
The blond can’t help the grin that finds his features. “Hell yeah you are.”
Bakugou pulls on his uniformed cargo pants to scrounge together some semblance of decency as he cradles you against him. Your body is like jelly in the Pro Hero’s strong arms, barely exercising the strength to hold onto him properly as he moves you to the unnecessarily luxurious bathroom built in his office. While setting you down on the counter next to the sink, the pager in his pocket rings.
“Food’s finally here.” He reaches for a hanger on the door, finding a bathrobe to blanket you in. “I’ll be back.”
You raise a brow. “Going out like that?”
“Relax, I’m putting a shirt on obviously.”
“A shirt, huh?” Not at all convinced, you cross your legs. You and him both know he absolutely reeks of sex. The marks you gave him are also an obvious giveaway. No doubt he’ll be an eye-turner to anyone he crosses paths with at the agency.
“Fine, I’ll have someone bring it up.” He meets you in the middle and you happily oblige, shoo-ing him to go about his business once again. The blond rolls his eyes, exiting the bathroom and out the large double doors of his office to wait at the elevator for his delivery.
And when those doors open with a ding, he’s greeted by the very last person he wishes to see. Swathed in the overbearing odor of her pungent perfume, his secretary stands heel-to-heel in the elevator, eyes crossed and a furious blush penetrating the matte layer of her foundation. Her steps traverse the threshold between the lift and hallway. With hands balled into small fists, she jabs the plastic bag of take-out food into the hero’s chest before wagging her finger at his disinterested demeanor.
“You..! You! How dare you?! Why, I should charge you for sexual harassment for what you did! So uncouth! Barbaric even!” She lectures vehemently, voice dripping with malice akin to the insults she practically spits at his face. The benevolent facade she dons everyday to garner his favor crumbles to pieces before his eyes and Bakugou can’t contain his laughter at the pathetic display.
“What’s so funny?!”
“Oh man, you’re a riot aren’t ya? You coulda very well just turn off your speaker if it bothered you so damn much,” he suggests, but the glint in his expression tells the woman he can see right through her. “But you didn’t, did you? You listened in on the whole thing like a fuckin’ pervert.”
At his deduction, the secretary blushes even harder. The fists at her sides shake with an anger that boils under her skin, melting her composure like the wicked witch of the west.
“Why you..! You’re the pervert here! Don’t think you can turn the situation on me when you’re the one who instigated this!” She points an accusing finger in his direction, an empty threat to the indifferent blond.
The hero barely offers her a scoff. “Me? The instigator? You got some fucking nerve saying that when all month you’ve been coming onto me practically on all fours despite knowing I’m a taken man.” Now it’s his turn to retort with equal venom and then some. His sudden switch in demeanor quickly overwhelms the woman as with every step he takes forward, she grows smaller and smaller.
“What’re you going to do? Tell the media? Report me to the authorities? Make a bunch of baseless rumors on your online blog? Well news flash—unlike you I’m irreplaceable. There won’t ever be another hero that has left as big of a mark on this country as I have, and you know it.” He holds his chest proudly after every word. In his presence, the secretary shrinks, gradually cowering back toward the elevator. Any semblance of nerve she held vanishes in front of her.
“Now start packing your things. If I don’t see your station left spotless by tomorrow morning I’ll make sure your days working for the hero industry are numbered.” It’s a threat she doesn’t dare challenge, wordlessly pressing a button on the panel to descend the floors and flee with her tail between her legs. The flabbergasted expression on her face is the last he sees of her.
And just like that, Katsuki feels a weight evaporate from his shoulders, releasing a deep sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He bounds back to his office with your lunch in tow.
When he returns, he overhears the water running in the bathroom before it’s soon shut off.
“Ah, ‘Suki, you’re back! I just filled the tub with water for our bath.” Your sincere smile meets his eyes which soften at the mere glimpse of you kneeling next to the tub, patiently awaiting his arrival.
“Fuck, babe, you weren’t suppose to move. Should be too sore after what I did t’ya.” He hoists you off the floor and into welcoming arms.
You pout cutely. “C’mon now, I’m not helpless you know.”
“‘Course not. But you’re my princess, remember? All mine.” He settles you both into the depths of the soothing, warm tub, nestling your body against his chest as he presses kisses in every area of tender skin he laid his claim on.
“And I plan to treat you like one for the rest of our lives.”
.
.
The very next morning, he finds a letter of resignation on his desk—the very place the two of you had fucked.
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thetriumphantpanda · 6 months
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pining & desperately waiting | javier peña
take the weight off his shoulders - chapter two
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Chapter Summary | As much as he’s trying to keep his distance there is just something about you that Javier cannot stay away from. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so to speak. He's worried about you too, putting yourself in harms way for your work.
Chapter Warnings | Mutual pining, slow burn, sexual tension, flirting, mention of smoking and drinking alcohol, mention of drugs, drug deaths and the drug trade, explicit smut - masturbation (F)
Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader
Word Count | 3.2k
Authors Note | When I tell you I love this (specific) man, I am telling you I love him. He consumes me. Thank you to @hellishjoel for letting me scream about these two with her and helping me figure this chapter out! If you like this I would love for you to join me in my ask box for screaming and please consider reblogging to support me! If you enjoyed this, you can make a donation to my Ko-Fi if you'd like to support me that way.
I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist
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You dream of him every night for a week after that night at the bar. They’re filthy, depraved sometimes, and you always wake up, slick pooling between your thighs, fingers working furiously before your alarm goes off to try a satiate you, or at least tide you over until you can climb back into bed that night and really take your time to imagine all the ways Javier would take you apart with his fingers, with his mouth, with his…. 
“Are you even listening to me?” 
You want to answer honestly and say no, you were busy daydreaming about getting railed by your dad’s buddy, but when you look across the table and see your boss practically glaring at you, you realise it’s probably for the best to lie a little. 
“Sorry,” You mumble, picking up your pen, “Didn’t sleep well, what were you saying?” 
“The fundraiser tomorrow,” She speaks, “For Dylan’s foundation, would you be okay to cover it?” 
You nod, because it makes sense for it to be you. Dylan had overdosed just over a year ago – seemingly on top of things, doing well in school and incredibly bright, found slouched over on a street corner, dead from an overdose before he’d been able to leave the small town for whatever bright lights he was destined for. He was just one of a string of drug-related deaths over the past twelve months – an ‘epidemic’ as they had coined it – the town too close to Mexico to escape the trade that Javier himself had worked so hard to quell. Dylan’s parent’s had set up a small foundation after his death, hoping to help other young kids who could be lured into this stuff to have other opportunities in their lives. 
“What kinda thing are you thinking?” You ask, starting to jot down notes as she speaks. 
“Just some reaction from people there, why they’ve decided to come out and support, maybe try and grab one of his parents, just the usual really, and we can run a story in the following days, might help drum up some more support for them if nothing else.” 
You nod, doing your usual with your notes of underlining the important parts, making notes on the kind of questions you’ll ask when you speak to people, “How many words have I got to work with?” 
“I think we can give them a page,” She says, looking to her boss who nods in agreement, “So whatever you produced for last month’s story, that should be good.” 
You nod, making a note of that too, and then continue to zone out for the rest of the meeting as everyone talks amongst themselves, mind going right back to Javi and what he would feel like putting his weight on you, settling between your thighs. You really needed to get a grip. 
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“Oh, isn’t it so nice to see such a good turn out today?” Your mom gushes, looking around at what feels like the whole of Laredo milling about a number of stalls that are selling all sorts of different things. 
“Sure is good to see,” Your dad agrees, putting his hands on your shoulders to give them a squeeze, “You want us to leave you to your reporting, pumpkin?” 
The nickname makes you wince a little, a moniker from your early days, before you’d filled out into your body. It was cute, but at twenty-five years of age, you do sometimes wish he’d find something else to call you. 
“I shouldn’t be too long,” You turn around and smile at him, “I can come and find you in a little while.” 
You wander around, introducing yourself to a few people asking them questions and jotting down notes. You’ve just finished speaking to Martina, famous throughout town for owning her own candle business, about why she’s supporting the foundation, when you step back and feel two sturdy hands holding onto your waist. You’re about to turn around and slap whoever it is for touching you, when that deep voice hits your ears.
“Careful, querida,” Javier fucking Peña, “Almost stood on my foot.” 
You whip around, mainly to put a bit of distance between the two of you, because it felt like his lips had been inches from your ear. He drops one of his hands, but keeps the other ghosting at your side, maybe to keep you steady more than anything as you wobble from the speed at which you’ve turned around. 
“Maybe you shouldn’t stand too close then?” You offer, making sure it comes out more playful than anything, because actually, all you really want is for his body to press against you more often. 
“Fair point,” He shrugs, “Thought I recognized you so I wanted to say hi,” He finally lets that other hand drop from your waist, “So hi.” Is... Is he nervous? 
You chuckle a little, “Hi,” you respond simply with a smile, “I didn’t expect to see you here,” You say honestly, this wasn’t his kind of scene before, you can’t imagine it’s any more appealing to him now, “Didn’t think it was your kind of scene.” 
He rubs a hand nervously over the back of his neck, “It’s not, I’ve been made to come,” He nods his head behind him where Chucho is talking to a group of other ranchers, “Apparently I’ve got to start showing my face more.” 
“Well, it’s a nice face,” your mouth speaks before your brain can catch up with what it’s saying, you inwardly cringe when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, I’m sure people are happy to see you around.” Is all you can think to say to try and get him to forget the weird compliment. 
He seems to smile, but like it had been across the table almost two weeks ago, his smile seems forced, “Just wish I could skip the bullshit about everyone being proud of me.” 
“But it’s true,” You shrug, moving away from the stall with him so other people can in front of you to look, “You did really good things out there.” 
He scoffs now, shaking his head a little, “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, querida,” He speaks, “Surely you should know that more than anyone.” 
You don’t know what he’s actually trying to say, but you decide to play it light, “Are you accusing me of lying in my stories, Peña?” You say with a smirk. 
“Perhaps not you,” He offers, “But I know plenty of journalists who know how to twist a story to get what they want,” He looks down at his shoes, kicking at the gravel a little, “Just don’t want you thinking I’m something I’m not.” 
“Been gone a long time,” You muse, “You might have to spend some time reminding me who you are.” 
It’s flirting the lines of maybe being too much you think, but you’ve not said anything that’s not true. He has been gone a long time, and if what he’s said is anything to go by, he will have to remind you of who he is or show you how he’s changed. 
“Not sure you’d like who I am now very much, querida.” He says simply. 
You’re about to open your mouth to respond, tell him you’re pretty sure that wouldn’t be true and that there isn’t a thing he could do on this earth that would make you think he was a bad person, but before you can, Chucho is coming up behind him, a firm hand on his shoulder. 
“Ah, mija,” He smiles at you, “You here alone?” 
“Hey Chucho,” You greet with a smile, “Mom and dad are around somewhere, I’m just here working on a story.” You hold up your notepad and pen.
“Let’s see if we can’t find them, huh Javi?” Chucho muses to his son, “Get you a nice cold lemonade for when you’re finished?” He motions to the blazing sun and then back to you. 
“Sounds lovely, thank you,” You motion over their shoulder to where Dylan’s parents are stood, “I just need to speak to them, and I’ll come and find you.” 
Javi doesn’t say goodbye, just follows closely behind Chucho as they disappear into the crowds, leaving you to wander over to Dylan’s parents. They’re not strangers to the paper, your boss had written a story with them not long after Dylan’s funeral, trying to spread awareness as to just how deep the drug problem ran in town. The Laredo Morning Times had always been supportive to them, so you didn’t feel the same anxiety you normally did when gathering information for stories, cold calling or knocking on doors trying to introduce yourself before doors are swiftly shut in your face or phones are hung up with a ‘no comment’. 
They’re warm with you as you speak to them, thanking you for coming, thanking the paper for agreeing to cover the event, they even smile, which for a pair who lost their only son in such a horrible way still shocks you for some reason. Their loss hasn’t defined them, only made them stronger, made them determined to stop their pain from happening to anyone else. You make a note to write something equally as poetic in your article. 
The crowds are thinning out a little as the midday sun does its worst. You can feel beads of sweat gathering behind our knees and you curse the fact you hadn’t remembered your hat. You can feel the heat prickling your skin as you spot your parents, sitting on a picnic bench with Javi and Chucho sat opposite them. When you’re close enough to the table, you can see everyone has plastic cups full of lemonade, but there’s one, put in front of the spare spot on the bench next to Javi, that is pink in colour instead of the cloudy yellow of everyone else’s. 
“You get everything you need?” Your dad asks, as you try and fight your legs over the bench in the most graceful way possible. 
“Yeah,” You nod, “Think it’ll make a great piece, Dylan’s parents seem really positive about it all,” You pick up the cup and take a sip, pink lemonade, your favourite, “Thanks for this.” You nod in the direction of your dad. 
“Don’t thank me, Javi got these,” He smiles, “Remembered you preferred pink lemonade and everything.” 
It actually makes your heart swell in your chest. He was always thoughtful, even before he left. Observant almost to a fault. But even after all these years, all of his stress, everything he’s seen, he still knows you well enough to know you prefer the sweeter pink lemonade. You turn your head to him to find him already looking at you with a little smile on his face. 
“Thank you.” You say quietly, sipping through the straw. 
“You’re welcome, dulzura.” 
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Javier Peña is doing a piss poor job of staying away from you, even by his standards. He lasted less than a week before he was waltzing over to you, hands on your waist, buying you pink lemonade because he knows you prefer it. There hasn’t been a night where he hasn’t wrapped his fist around his cock and made himself cum over the thought of you. He finds it easier to drop off to sleep once he’s done it, but his nights are still fitful, full of nightmares, tossing and turning, waking up to sweat soaked sheets and a heaving chest. He wonders briefly, when he lies awake watching the dawn arrive through his curtains, whether your body next to him would ease his nightmares? But then he thinks what if it doesn’t. What if you have to wake up, look at him with those innocent doe eyes and see him for what he really is?  No, he can’t let his darkness cloud you, you don’t deserve that, you deserve someone that going to be gentle with you, someone softer, not him with all his jagged edges. 
He's currently sitting in his truck, just outside of the liquor store, contemplating how badly he wants that packet of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey he’d driven out to buy. He’d done alright so far, chewing on his Nicorette gum, but his fingers are itching for the familiarity of a cigarette between his fingers, and he’d finished the bottle of whiskey last night. 
Then, almost like he’s being punished by God, which would make sense really, all things considered, you’re in his eyeline, walking down the street with a woman who is a little older than you, with your notepad and pen clutched in your hand. It’s late and he wonders where you must be going to report at such a late hour, and then he worries, because in his experience, nothing good happens after dark that worth making the newspapers. As the two of you approach him, he leans further out of his open window, holding his arm out to catch your attention. 
“Hey Javi,” You smile, coming to a stop in front of his window, “What are you doing in town?”
“Just picking a few things up,” He answers simply, because this isn’t about him, he needs to know where you’re going, “Where are you going this late?” 
You turn to the older woman you’re with, tell her to go on ahead and you’ll catch her up, “There’s been some kind of drugs bust a few streets over,” You explain, “Sounds like it might be quite big so we’re just going down to see what’s happening.” 
“Your dad working it?” He asks, because if he is, he knows you’ll be okay. 
You shake your head, “Nah, he’s not on nights right now,” You’re shifting back and forth on your feet, clearly itching to get going, “I’ll be alright though, sounds like plenty of dad’s officers are down there.” 
He turns his head back to the steering wheel and then back to you, “Be careful, alright?”
You smile at him again and if he’s not careful, he really could get used to being the person who draws that from you more often, “I know what I’m doing,” You chuckle slightly, and he doesn’t doubt it, not really, “Been covering this kinda shit for a while.” 
Without really thinking about it, he leans over, roots around in the glovebox and pulls out the little card he knows that’s in there. He passes it over to you, letting you take it, “It’s got my number on it,” He explains, “I’ve been in this shit and I just…” He trails off with a sigh, “Just, call me before you write something that might get you in trouble, okay?” 
“Worried about me, Peña?” You smirk, and he thinks above your smile, he’d like to make you smirk more too. 
“I’ve just seen too many good journalists write things that ruin their careers,” He shrugs, trying to play it off but probably doing a terrible job of it, “Don’t want you to make the same mistake.” 
He watches as you turn the card over in your fingers a few times, before smiling at him one last time, “I’ll call you if need you.” And he really hopes you do. 
In that moment, he gives up on trying to resist the call of the liquor store, pulling out his keys from the ignition and opening his door, climbing down onto the pavement. He stalls a little, before he puts a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze, “Go and get your story, reporter.” And then motions his head for you to go. 
He buys a bottle of whiskey and two packs of cigarettes, smokes two of them before he gets home. He thinks if he were a stronger man he’d have managed to quit, but he’s not, especially when it comes to you. Sure, he knew you before, but this new you? He’s known less than a month and he’s already struggling to stick to his own rules. He steps down from his truck back on the ranch, walks in and pours himself a healthy double, trying to convince himself it’ll be okay, he just needs to keep to himself, but when he’s led in bed at night, thinking of your sweet smile, he thinks this might just be another thing he fails at. 
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It’s late. Too late for you to be awake when you have to be at the office in the morning, but you can’t stop looking at the series of numbers, printed on the little card, underneath the words ‘Javier Peña, DEA.’ It’s out of date, clearly, the DEA nothing more than a memory to him. But it’s the principle of it that matters most. He’s worried about you, and he would only worry if he cared right? 
You set it on your nightstand, switch off the little lamp and plunge yourself into darkness, right at the same time as you plunge your hand under your sleep shorts and through your folds. You’re soaked, because you always are when you think about him, it’s actually sort of pathetic. You sink two fingers into yourself, only briefly, letting out a satisfied breath, dragging your slick fingers back you to slowly circle your clit. 
It's new, the way you always need to take care of yourself. The brief relationship you’d had in college with James hadn’t given you much to work with, you hadn’t really felt desperation to get yourself off like this before. 
Your other hand, currently running over your peaked nipples through your tank top, is itching to reach across to your nightstand, pick up the phone and dial that number. You want to breathe down the phone at him, tell him you’re being so bad, that you need him to help, need that deep voice to guide you through it. As you press your fingers harder into your clit, speeding up your circles and bucking your hips, you wonder what he’d actually do if you did call him. Would he tell you to get lost? You don’t think he would, you think he’d do exactly as you asked, talk you through it. 
You imagine his voice in your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him. You imagine his hand replacing your own, sinking his fingers into you, using his thumb to work your clit, the rough of his moustache running over the skin of your neck as he kisses you there. It’s the image of him looking down at you, smiling as he makes you cum that tips you over the edge. That flood of relief that rushes through you as you bite down on your bottom lip to keep you from whispering his name as your body shakes through your orgasm. 
You wipe your slick fingers on the skin of your thigh, roll over in bed so your back is to the phone, trying to get your breathing under control. You drag the covers up under your chin, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without imagining his strong arm around your waist, his broad chest against your back. Does he snore? You wonder as you try and fall asleep. Would he keep you warm? It’s all running through your head as you sleep, conjuring up dreams that come morning have you realizing something has to give, you have to know, you have to have him. You needed Javier Peña more than the air you breathe, no matter how bad it was to admit that, no matter what it meant, no matter what it would cost, you needed him and you think to yourself as you drive to work, that he might just need you as much as you need him. 
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justmystyles · 9 months
Note
Hi, could you make a fic about something to do with money maybe Harry dating a girl who came from not much and she still isn’t used to the fancy things in life like he is and so when there dating she feels bad ever spending his money.
I’m currently having to sell most of my Harry merch because we can’t afford to fix things in our house and I am very sad over it so I just need some comfort but if you decide not to write this, you’re still one of my favorite writers. Thank you for all the comfort you bring me.
Love Don't Cost A Thing
read my other work here
pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader
word count: 1.1k
warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.
a/n: to my anonymous requester, i am so sorry for the hard times you have found yourself in. i wish i had something i could say that would help you through. just know that hard times don't last forever, there will be a light at the end of the tunnel, and i am hoping and praying that you reach it soon.
also, thank you so much for your kind words. i am so incredibly honored that you consider me one of your favorite writers, that compliment made more than just my day, i think it may have made my whole summer. i hope this blurb is what you are looking for, and provides you the comfort you need right now.
if you ever need someone to talk to, i am here. i may not be able to provide much, but i am happy to be a listening ear (reading eye?) if you need one. 🖤
tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat
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The waiter drops the check at your table, thanking you for coming in and continues on his way. You reach your hand out to grab it, but Harry beats you to it. Again.
“Harry, you don’t have to–” 
“I know, baby, but I want to. I love spoiling my girl.” He reaches his free hand across the table, squeezing yours gently. 
Ever since you and Harry started going out, you hadn’t paid for a thing. Not only that, but the things he’s been paying for have been extravagant and way outside of your comfort zone. The gifts, the meals, the flowers, the flights. He has taken you around the world and back, and has refused to let you pay for any of it.
Holidays and birthdays had been hard too. Harry always gave you multiple extravagant gifts, you could never even come close to matching it. He told you he didn’t care, that your gifts were always so meaningful, and that’s what was important. You knew he meant it, that he didn’t need you to buy him fancy things. He was more than capable of doing it himself. But it didn’t matter to you, you felt an imbalance in the relationship that was only growing with time. And you were sure that the gossip blogs and fans noticed it, talking about how you were just with him for his money. It wasn’t true, you and Harry knew that and it should have been enough, but it wasn’t. 
You didn’t grow up poor, you were grateful for what you had and knew that there were others that were worse off than you. But you didn’t even have half of what you were experiencing now. Your parents raised you to be practical with your money, to save and not to spend frivolously. You always had what you needed, but weren’t always able to have what you wanted. 
Now that you were with Harry, even if you just made an offhand comment about a cute piece of jewelry or clothing, all of the sudden it was yours. You love Harry, and you know he was doing it because he loves you too, but it still didn’t sit right with you. 
Later that night, you were laying in bed together. Harry was talking to you about his schedule for the upcoming month.
“So I was thinking you could come meet me in Paris. We could go to that little cafe we love, do a little shopping.” He suggested with a smile, loving the idea of walking through the most romantic city in the world with the love of his life. 
“Sure,” you agreed. “I could probably swing the money for a round trip ticket.” 
“You’re not swinging anything,” he pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got you, baby.” 
“Harry, I can afford a flight.” You’re not sure you really can. You’ll probably eat canned goods and boxed mac and cheese for a month, but it’s better than the guilt you feel every time Harry opens his wallet for you. 
“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to. I’m asking you to come spend time with me, it should be my treat.” 
“Yeah, but everything is always your treat, Harry.” You say with a slight bite in your tone. 
Harry looks at you confused, and a little bit hurt. “Angel, are you alright?” 
“No Harry, I don’t think I am,” you confess. “I can’t keep doing this, it doesn’t feel okay.” Harry stays silent, allowing you to say what you need too. “I love you so much, and you have the kindest, most generous heart of anyone I have ever met. I just, it’s just too much. The meals, the gifts. You don’t let me pay for anything, I feel like… I don’t know. I know you don’t see a problem with it, but I do. It just makes me feel… uncomfortable. I’m basically living off of your money, and I don't feel right about it.”
“Baby,” he said as he let out a breath. “I had no idea you felt this way.” He brought his hand up, brushing your cheek gently. 
“I know you didn’t. And it’s a me problem, I know that too.” 
Harry shakes his head sharply. “No it’s not, it’s an us problem. You’re my girl, we’re in this together.” You look down, overwhelmed by how tender he was being with you despite the way you unloaded on him. “Why haven’t you told me about this before?”
You shrug, “I don’t know, it sounds kind of crazy when you think about it.”
“How?” He asked.
“Because, there are girls that would kill to be in my position, who would love to be spoiled and given all these extravagant gifts, and here I am complaining about it. I sound so ungrateful.” 
“Hey hey hey,” Harry holds your face in his hands. “You do not sound ungrateful.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you, I love you so much and I give you all of these things because you deserve the world.”
“I love you too, but I don’t need all these things, the fancy dinners, the clothes, I just need you.”
He smiles softly at you, the adoration clear in his gaze. “I know angel, and that’s one of the things I love most about you. Your heart is so pure and good. I am so incredibly lucky that you have given it to me to hold, and I don’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable, especially not because of my actions.” 
“I know, and that’s part of the reason I didn’t tell you, I knew you’d feel bad. I don’t want you to feel bad about doing nice things for me.” 
“Tell me what I can do, how I can make you feel better.” He asked, willing to do anything to make you happy. 
You take a deep breath as you try to articulate your needs. “When I offer to pay for things, let me.”
Harry nods in agreement, pulling your face to his and kissing you softly. “Anything you want, love.” 
“And just because I say something is cute, doesn’t mean you have to buy it for me.” You add. 
“Got it,” he kisses you again. “But I can still spoil you sometimes, right?” 
“Sometimes,” you say in a subtle warning tone. “Just not all the time.”
Harry smiles, his brow arching mischievously. “How about I spoil you right now, and it won’t cost a cent.” 
Your breath catches in your throat at the implication of his words. “Sure, I guess I’d be okay with that.” 
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alta1red · 1 month
Text
EDEN. | 𝑰𝑴𝑨𝑮𝑰𝑵𝑬 II. Your very presence,
𝑺𝒀𝑷𝑵𝑶𝑺𝑰𝑺 : THE HAZBIN HOTEL CAST AND THEIR OPINION OF YOU.
𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 : ( None that I'm aware of, although do inform me if I missed something ! )
𝑷𝑻 : II
" Well.. Uh, Eden ! I can happily say you've got the job ! " Charlie happily announced, seemingly overflowing with excitement, observing the pep in her step as she walked towards you —she took your hands in hers as she shook it with vigorous energy.
" I'm so happy you joined us, here at Hazbin Hotel ! "
— Bingo, just what you needed to hear from the 'Little Morningstar' Herself. After all, your resume was damn near flawless, ( although erasing abit of your lore, like, you being an important figure up in the clouds ! ) Denying such a resume would be an utter loss the hotel of course !
— The hard part, however, is pretending to be a Sinner —And while sure you're not exactly a Saint, you've been drilled with proper manners, and overly kiss-ass behavior from Michael's, " How to be a proper Angel 101, " Lessons.
— Working as a gardener was easy in the long run, you've been taking care of plants for millennia — Although you could say a little One-Eyed Darling is abit iffy with the soil you had staining and dirtying your uniform, and well.. the dirt in general, but ! You were of course polite, being a dirty slob was incredibly embarrassing !
— So, just to ease Niffty you kept the dirt, soil, and grime all In the outside. ( Exception is the dirt, soil, and grime in the flower pots.. ) You often lead her to bug species that were harmful to your plants, finding amusement as she ruthlessly, and painstakingly kills their mother's. Maybe Charlie should say that she's only 75% percent harmless ?
— Your relationship with the Daughter of the Morningstar was, peaceful, maybe? You often let her rant to you about mundane stuff, finding her little shows and musicals, ballad's and all the such abit endearing, often leading you to follow the rhythm, and tapping your finger along to the beat as she sings, ( although you never joined such activities, ) You notice alot of her quirks, like her using hand gestures, her mushing out on a few words, ( and how she's abit naïve to how some of the residences -sinners, ehem, if not most of them were rather unredeemable. )
— She often reminded you of a certain Seraphim from up there, their resemblance being uncanny, but nostalgic. And due to you getting used to the Seraphim's personality you found it relatively easy to get along with Charlie, your day to day chats, and her suggestions for flowers were a delight, ( Let's hope she doesn't find out a few of the flowers she suggested, and you planted, don't belong in Hell. )
— She thinks that you're reliable, and a very comforting person to be around —She truly believes you deserve to be redeemed with how righteous and charitable you act, she considers you a sister, a person she can rely on when things go south, someone to have sibling conversation's with !
— Although, her girlfriend —Angel in disguise, hehe. You noticed Vaggie held a tense atmosphere around you, not that you minded, you were new, and 'Sinners' aren't exactly to be trusted, but you both kept a respectful and polite attitude towards eachother, in respect of Charlie.
— As time passed however Vaggie found you oddly nostalgic, your behavior.. and your mannerisms were too 'pristine' and 'polished' almost as if you'd been drilled with lessons for so long, or, maybe Vaggie was just imagining it, you held an aura which screamed 'Noble' in some way, but with the way you carried yourself..
— Vaggie had to just be imagining when she saw Blue Blood drip down from your finger, right?
— Now, moving on to Alastor; he was polite to all the ladies in the Hotel ( Including you, ) however you always notice how his shadows linger longer than they're supposed to, ( Is he watching ? ) He held a dignified aura within him, his voice —Static, that's what you could hear, and if you didn't pay much attention maybe you would've missed how there was a laughing track, only heard if you payed more attention than you should.
— Your first meeting with him, was.. well, eerie.
— " Alastor'— He grabbed your hand and shook it, the action causing you to tumble abit, before gaining composure —' Pleasure to be meeting you dear, quite a pleasure ! " He greeted, giving you his all too famous never ending smile. You smiled back politely, and then said, " Eden.. Although you could call m— nevermind, I'm the new gardener, honor to meet you Sir ! " You gave back the same energy, it's impolite to not too after all.
— Alastor enjoys your modest fashion, and how polite you are, quite a darling ! ( He doesn't like you. )
— For Angel Dust's opinion however.. A prude, with a clean streak ( how'd ya even end up in hell with such a goody-goody personality ? ) Sure Toot's, everyone has their own secrets but being so mysterious in a place like Hell ? Might aswell just be open with your crimes and all, not like anyone has the ability to judge ( Hell is Hell, )
— Although your company ain't too bad, after all —You give 'hella good advice, however he recognizes that look on your face —You're hidin' something big-time, and even then with your reckless and ditzy actions he KNOWS you aren't tryna' hide it at all.
— Husk.. He pays zero mind to you, often having chats some nights when you go for a swig- or -two, you were cryptic —In a different way, unlike a certain Smiles for Day's. You weren't eerie, neither creepy, just too secretive, everyone's knows it.
— Husk knows how Alastor feels about you, and to be honest, it ain't pretty. Consider how he knows about Alastor's certain feelings about someone being far more powerful, being petty, and all.
— But how much longer until everyone knows how deep of an entity you actually are?
FIN.
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salty-croissants · 4 months
Note
your work is really incredible 🥰 if you're not too busy, how about bullfrog and rayman/ramon getting sick and reader taking care of them?
Thank you for the request ! 
This is such an adorable scenario , I love the idea of the reader taking care of the boys , very wholesome stuff :,) ❤️
Hope this turned out okay !
Details : use of gender neutral reader ;
established relationships ; 
presence of slightly suggestive elements at the end , but other than that no warnings needed
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Bullfrog 💚
Knowing just how much he cares about those around him , I imagine Bullfrog is going to try to ignore the fact that he is sick , doing his best to carry on like usual with his routine and his missions …
But he didn’t consider the fact that you know him better than anyone , so you were quickly able to figure out that he wasn’t feeling at his best . 
< Okay Bullfrog , what’s wrong ? You’ve been looking really tired today … >
< Non non , nothing is wrong , my love … please don’t worry about me , I’m going to be just fine .
It’s … just a little headache . >
< Still , I really think you should get some rest . Come on sweetie . > 
< y/n , wait I - >
He knows that there is nothing he can do to convince you not to take care of him , and honestly he can’t say he’s unhappy .
The first thing you do is making sure he has everything he could need : 
a warm blanket ? Something warm to drink ? You’re on your way to immediately fetch what might help Bullfrog to feel better . 
In the meantime , he just watches you from the bed you’ve made him lay down on , shacking his head in front of your eagerness to help him …
< Mon amour , there is no reason to do all this , it’s not that bad … >
< I know you don’t want anyone to worry about you , but I’ll be honest , this doesn’t look like “a little headache” : you’ve been pushing yourself too hard lately , so I want to be there for you the same way you’re always there for me . 
You deserve to be cared about , love … more than you might think . >
Your sincere words just have a way of putting Bullfrog at ease , and if he wasn’t sick I assure you that he would drown you with kisses and affection right now .
If he knows there is something important you need to do , Bullfrog will definitely insist that you go deal with it before spending the rest of the day with him : 
he really doesn’t want to get you in trouble by having you stay by his side for too long …
< But sweetie , what if you suddenly need me when I’m away ? Then I won’t be able to know ! > 
< y/n , mon cher , I assure you that I can take care
of myself .
Besides , if you finish that up beforehand we’ll be able to spend time together more comfortably . > 
< Yeah , but … hmm , I don’t know … > 
< Trust me , I’m going to be just fine , you’ve already done so much for me … 
Now would be a good time to get going , I’ll be waiting for you right here . > 
< *sigh* … alright , but please be careful : you should probably lay down for a while longer , get some sleep if you can … 
Oh - you should also remember to drink some tea or some water to stay hydrated , and - > 
< Hehe … don’t you worry , I will take care of
myself .
Thank you for caring so much about me sweetheart … I’ll be looking forward to spend some more time with you again when you get back ~ > 
After you’re done with everything you had scheduled for the day , the next hours are all going to be spent next to Bullfrog , just the two of you cuddling and enjoying each other’s warmth .
It’s not long before he is completely relaxed , something that happens only when he’s with you , and that’s when he’ll start whispering sweet nothings in your ear : you may not be able to fully understand all of them , but hearing him speak so softly to you is just so sweet … it’s enough to make you forget about all the terrible things going on outside for a little while , only leaving this precious moment of intimacy .
< Did I tell you how much I love you today … ? >
< You did , but … tell me anyway ~ >
< Heh , vous êtes merveilleux , y/n … je t'aime de tout mon coeur , you really do mean everything to me … >
< Easy , honey … just close your eyes , you really need to get some sleep . >
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Rayman 🧡
As someone who overworks himself very , very often , it’s not unusual for Rayman to get sick … however , now that he has a loving partner by his side things have changed … for the better : 
no matter what he says , you will get him to stop what he’s doing and take a break , and there is no way to argue about this . 
< Please y/n … I gotta study the script for the next show , it’s important … the Board of Directors said - > 
< Well , I think the Board of Directors would agree that letting you perform while you’re too exhausted to say a single word would be very counterproductive .
You can’t ignore your health like this , Ray … it’s not good for you , at all . > 
< *sigh* … >
< You can get back to the script when you feel a bit better .
Can … you do that for me , love ? > 
< Heh … now how could I say no to that ?
You really put me in a trap , sweetheart ~ > 
Rayman would be very grateful if you stayed with him while he recovers , not only because he loves spending time with you but also because your presence helps him to suppress the urge to get up and continue working despite his sickness …
< Heyy , I see you over there … lay back down ! > 
< Ah damn - I was really close this time … > 
< Not on my watch : I’m your Rest Guardian , and you better believe I won’t let you escape from me , darling ~ >
< Pfft -
I just … I love you so much y/n ~ > 
He loves it when you sit next to him , talking to him about how your day went and telling him all about your interests …
Your voice is like music to his ears , it brings him a feeling of peace and tranquility that he desperately needs given all the stress he has to deal with daily : 
Rayman honestly thinks that he wouldn’t be able to feel better without you … and he doesn’t only refer to his current condition .
If you decide to lay in bed with him and shower him with sweet little kisses ? 
This man will absolutely melt . 
< Don’t worry , I’ll take care of you … I’ll always be here to take care of you … >
< y/n … god , I can’t believe you’re actually real .
You’re amazing … I don’t know what I’d do without you . > 
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Ramon 🖤
Okay , so now that the two of you are wanted by pretty much all of Eden’s allies for the murder of the Board of Directors , Ramon has grown to care less and less about his health , too worried about hiding and keeping you safe …
That’s something that you won’t allow tough , so whenever he gets sick you take care of him just like you did before : without giving him any chance to argue about it .
< Why are you making such a big deal out of this ?
I told you already , I’m fine . > 
< You … aren’t , tough . > 
< Yeah ? And how do you know that ? >
< Because I’ve been with you long enough to know when you’re sick … and also when you’re not telling the truth about it . 
Please , Ram , let me be there for you … I don’t want you to neglect yourself like this … > 
< … heh … put me in a trap again , I see . >
Ramon is grateful for your kindness and love , and even though he doesn’t always makes things easy he really wants you to be there with him … 
He … doesn’t really have anyone else . 
Ramon definitely takes way longer to become less tensed , constantly worried about someone sneaking up on you two out of nowhere , and since he really does need some rest to recover one thing you do that always helps him calm down is holding him in your arms and gently caress his hair : 
it works surprisingly well , and after a few minutes he already looks more at ease .
He needs to feel you next to him to make sure you’re okay and nothing bad happened to you , so trust me when I say that after he gets a hold of you Ramon isn’t going to let you go that easily …
< Sweetie , come on , I just need to go and get some more water for you … > 
< Mmh … 5 more minutes . >
< But you said that 5 minutes ago … > 
< You’re right … 10 minutes then ~ >
< Come onnn ~ >
Ramon still loves it when you kiss him while he’s in bed with you , just like you did in the past when he was still hosting his show , and sometimes he might even surprise you with passionate displays of affection out of nowhere .
< Hey now , you … mm … said you were going to sleep soon … > 
< Yeah yeah , I’ll sleep love , don’t worry …
I just wanted to repay you for everything you’ve done for me today … I think you deserve something nice , don’t you ? ~ > 
< Heh , alright … just a few more minutes then … > 
< Couldn’t ask for more … ~ >
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starz222 · 11 months
Text
6reeze / 5wirl : as popular tropes
scara - enemies to lovers | venti - friends to lovers xiao - miscommunication | kazu - mutual piningheizou - academic rivals cw not proof read might be ooc notes sorry no aether :( idk how to write him . also i hate kazuha's part
scara – enemies to lovers
goddamn raiden scaramouche. he just always had to be right, didn’t he? god, you just wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. he was so damn blunt all the time, but it was more annoying how he was right. he’s short and he’s especially mean when he opens his mouth. what’s there to even like!? one of the things you hate about him was how he found out about one of your most embarrassing secrets and told everyone.
“i hate him! i can’t stand to be in the same room as him.” you complain to your friend, childe. he raises his eyebrows at you, “looks like someone’s got a crush.” you scoff and roll your eyes at him, “c’mon, i hate the guy’s guts!” you furrow your eyebrows. childe looks at you with a smug expression, “uh huh, that’s why you’ve been talking about him for the last 48 hours?” you didn’t even reply. you just stormed off. you hear childe in the distance, “looks like i was right!”
he turns to his phone, “did you hear all of that?” 
“....yeah.” scaramouche finds himself dumbfounded. the next day, you find yourself avoiding him entirely. you saw a glimpse of him in the hallway? run to the nearest room. you saw his backpack behind a locker? run the opposite way. you see childe talking to someone shorter than him? it might not be scaramouche, considering childe is incredibly tall, but still, you choose to run away.
after seeing a silhouette that looks exactly like him in the halls, you run into the nearest room– the library. there, you hide behind a couple of bookshelves, trying to catch your breath. you turn to the right to take a peek at the entrance– what if he went inside? you sigh in relief when you see no one there, and you turn back to the bookshelf in front of you.  and oh– there’s someone towering over you. the person you’ve been avoiding all this while. he’s got you pinned to the bookshelves, and you look down at the ground feeling your cheeks become hot. his right hand is over your head and his left blocking your way out. 
“why are you avoiding me?” he says, not letting his eyes off of you, “it’s– it’s nothing!” you look further away. “the floor must be really interesting.” he grabs your jaw and makes you look at him, eye-to-eye. “tell me, why are you avoiding me?” you feel your body tense and your ears turn bright red. “because…” 
“because what?” “i…like you..” you say in a soft voice, so quiet only a mouse couuld hear. 
“i can’t hear you.” 
“i like you!” it’s quiet. scaramouche isn’t saying anything. he takes his hands off the bookshelf and looks at you. “i thought you hated me.” he says, “i don’t know! i don’t know anymore, i—” 
he cuts you off by placing a soft kiss on your lips.
“i… like you too.”
xiao – miscommunication
he was so confused about his feelings for you. he didn’t know what was going on with him. whenever you were around, his face would heat up and he’d become more tense. to others, he’d stay quiet, barely saying a word. but when it comes to you— oh, he doesn’t know what to do. he talks more, so much more. it’s something about you that just makes him lose it. 
when he thinks his feelings will only hurt you, he’ll distance himself from you. you’ll stop seeing him around liyue, and you’ll stop hearing his voice, asking you how you’ve been. when you call out his name, he won’t appear. but that feeling you get that someone’s watching your every move, that doesn’t go away at all.
he thinks you hate him now, now that he’s gone out of touch with you. he thinks that as a human, you won’t realize how important it is to live life to the fullest, and that you should not spend your moments with someone like him. an immortal being with so much karmic debt on his shoulders haunting him every single second of the day. but, that all went away with you. you brought so much happiness and joy to his life, and you’ve made him experience so many things he never thought he’d got to feel. 
but he was scared. scared of you getting hurt because of him, what if he’s the reason you don’t get to be happy? those thoughts stopped him from getting close to you— to be able to communicate with you. 
one day, you catch him stumbling on his feet, walking unbalanced. suddenly, he collapses. you run over to him and let him rest on your lap, he slowly opens his eyes and breathes in deeply. “[name]?” his voice is husky, his eyebrows are furrowed, “am i… imagining things?” he blinks slowly again, “there’s… there’s no way you’d actually do this.” his breaths are heavy and when you put your hand over his forehead, it’s burning hot. “xiao, you’re heating up, what happened? are you okay?” you ignore his words. “i’m.. i’m fine. just stay here with me. it doesn’t matter if you’re my imagination.” xiao looks at you through his lashes, “i missed you, xiao. you have no idea how much i liked you– and how much i still do.” 
xiao simply shakes his head. “no..no, i hurt you. you can’t do that, you can’t say–” he coughs, “you can’t say that.” he sniffs his nose, “just get some rest, xiao. let’s talk when you’re okay.” you say softly. “i’m so sorry, [name]. i didn’t want you to get hurt–” 
“please get some rest, xiao. you’re not okay.” 
heizou – academic rivals
heizou was one of the top students.you always ranked 2nd after him, and it infuriated you. not only that, but he was difficult to talk to, and he always seemed to be one step ahead of you. you always compared your scores with him the minute you got them, but he would always end up scoring one point higher than you.
this semester, you were set on defeating him. you studied all day and night, drank gallons of coffee, and barely slept. you thought about getting a score higher than his, how much you hate his intuition and him always being so spot on. 
“wake up, [name]!” venti shakes you awake, “‘m not sleeping! i’m..i’m not sleeping-” you jot up in surprise. “you should get some sleep,” he sighs. “no, i can’t. i absolutely have to beat him this time around.” you say. “so, i can’t afford some shutter-eye right now.” 
little did you know that “him” was just right around the corner, and he heard everything you said. “looks like your rival’s out to get you.” kazuha teased. “they should really get some sleep once in a while…” heizou mutters to himself. 
the day of the exams, you were overprepared, you were determined, you were confident you were going to ace this test and finally beat him. you just downed a cup of coffee, and you’re ready to take the exam. a few days afterwards, you get the results for the examination. you run to see a certain maroon-haired fellow. 
“heizou!” you run towards him, holding a paper in your hands. “what was your score… hah.. on the- the exam..” you pant and rest your arms on your knees. “woah there, excited much?” he takes your paper, “just- just tell me.” you take a while to catch your breath. he scans your paper, “79/80. wow, you’ve defeated the mighty shikanoin heizou.” he tells you. 
“i did?”
“you did. only because i let you.”
“oh my god–” you ignore his words. “i did!” you blink. “i don’t think the entire campus can hear you yet–” you blink again. “[name]!” you collapse into his arms, he’s swift, and caught you in time. “you did great, seriously. just get some sleep now.” he mutters, he’s noticed in the past weeks that you were slouching all the time, and your eyebags got worse. your voice got croaky, and he always caught you drinking coffee, honestly, was there ever a moment when you weren’t holding a coffee?
“my my, the prince charming gets his happy ending alas.” kazuha walks from behind. "by the way, congrats on getting perfect scores." 
“thanks.”
venti – friends to lovers
to be honest, you’ve gotten confused whether or not hanging out with him were just plain friendship stuff– or dates. knowing his secret, that he’s actually barbatos, the anemo archon, he uses his powers freely around you, making it easier to access beautiful city views. he invited you to watch the stars with him on the anemo god’s statue in the center of mondstadt, late at night. he uses his powers and holds your hand as you fly up to the statue’s hands, and there you lay down with him.
up there, the wind tickles your cheek, and venti is weirdly silent. it’s not like him at all to be quiet. so, you ask him, “what’s wrong?” he turns to you and says, “do you think they’ll like me back?” your heart drops. you tell yourself, you should be happy for your friend, finding his own happiness. but why not with you? “i mean, of course. what’s there not to like about you?” venti laughs. “there’s… so much i need to tell you.” 
“well you didn’t even tell me about your special someone” you turn away, throwing up in the air the apples you got for venti. “hey– i couldn’t!” he becomes defensive, “it’s just… they’re amazing. all my years roaming teyvat, i’ve never met anyone so… just so amazing.” he smiles, “see? i can’t even put my feelings into words— and i’m a poet!” he pulls his knees to his chest, “i don’t know what to do…”
“you should choose me instead.” you think out loud, venti looks at you in shock. “wh-what? what’d you say?” his pupils diate and his ears become hot. “don’t make me say it again, it’s embarrassing.”
“no, no! not at all, [name], i’d gladly choose you. you’re the one i like” he gets up and holds both of your hands.
“so… does this mean we’re–” 
“yep.”
kazuha – mutual pining
the crux has been through a lot, and god do they drink. it’s interesting to see kazuha not in his calm composure, instead slurring his words and his sentences full of hiccups. tonight, he drank a lot. the rest of the crew were passed out somewhere or simply sleeping. you were worried of leaving kazuha alone in this state– only archons know what’d happen to him.
“mmm–” he coos as he tilts his head at you. he giggles as he grabs a small photograph kept in his front pocket, he scooches over to you and shows you the picture. it’s a picture of you smiling. you ask him, “what’s this?”and he smiles, “the person i love oh so dearly…” he holds the picture as if it was fragile, like the slightest movement would ruin it. “don’t tell anyone, but..” he whispers into your ear, “i’m gonna marry them one day…” he giggles. he shoves the picture into your face, “look, *hic* aren’t they so cute?” you laugh, “you’re adorable, kazuha.” he looks at you, as if he’s offended. “well– *hic* i appreciate the compliment, but… you’re not [name], i’d like it if you didn’t say that, especially if they’re around.” he pouts. “y’know, i have someone i like too.” you smile at him, “really?” he entertains your sudden statement.
“yeah, he’s the nicest person i know. it’s like i can’t live without him.” the heavy weight you feel now being lifted off your chest. “you must really like him.” kazuha says, “what’s his name?” “his name’s kazuha. does that sound familiar?” you take your shot, it’s most likely he won't be able to remember this when he wakes up anyway, so why not?  “it does– oh.” he’s taken aback, in fact slightly sober now. he rubs his eyes multiple times and blinks profusely. 
“[name]—” 
“can i call you cute now?” 
tags @aimynx ( taglist for all of my works ! currently open )
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elmhat · 2 months
Note
Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:
Purpled pours Dream a drink
So technically this is my own event — @sixteenth-day-event — and technically I'm the one who's supposed to make the prompts, but listen. I felt left out. I wasn't even planning to do anything originally, I literally wrote this today. There were a few prompts left over from other people's suggestions, so I randomized them to get one for myself. (Based on my own preferences, of course.) So I hope you enjoy!
~
CW: alcohol issues
// dsmp rp
If Dream had to describe Purpled’s base in a word, it would be claustrophobic. Both in the literal sense, all tight stone passageways and rooms with far too few exits, and in the abstract but ultimately more important sense that this place could easily swallow him whole. Unfamiliar territory was always a risk; if this was a trap, he was already in it.
Still, it was better than meeting out in the open, and Dream could frankly deal with a little discomfort if it led to Las Nevadas in flames.
“So what’s in it for you?” Purpled asked him. He poured his own drink first. Figured. “I mean, you hate Las Nevadas, how do I know you’re not gonna fuck me over the same way as Quackity?”
Dream, sitting at the table with him, chose his words carefully. “I just think that… it’s not good for anyone, y’know, if unstable people… are in positions of power.”
Purpled gave a wry smirk. “You think I’m stable?”
Dream considered. “I think that you’re reliable.”
Purpled looked suspicious of his answer, but satisfied enough not to question it.
As he went to pour Dream a drink, something inside of Dream twisted. Coiled, then writhed, then shriveled. He wanted to stop him but he didn't. He did nothing; just watched the alcohol spill into the glass.
“To chaos, then,” said Purpled, raising his own glass before taking a sip.
Dream smiled. Not that Purpled could see it; it was more for himself than anyone. “To reliable chaos.” He didn't really think that Purpled was reliable—he didn't know him well enough to make that call—but trust was a vital component of any alliance. In small doses.
Dream was sure that Purpled was thinking about trust, too, when he noticed that Dream wasn't drinking.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
Dream waved him off hurriedly. “No, no, it’s not, it’s just— I don’t know, it’s not, like— me. My taste. I guess.”
Purpled raised an eyebrow. “Right.”
Dream should have just said he didn't drink. That would be normal. That would have made more sense than whatever just left his mouth. As it was, they were left with stilted silence.
When Purpled took another drink, movements slow and methodical, he stared pointedly through Dream’s mask. “D’you think I’m poisoning you?”
“What? Why would I— No! Obviously not!”
The thought hadn't even crossed Dream’s mind—although now Purpled was making him consider it. Instead, he looked at the glass and he thought about obsidian and he thought about lava, and he suddenly felt very sick.
Purpled was still watching—no, judging him. Dream knew that expression from Sam: it meant that he thought Dream was lying. Because everyone, always, thought Dream was lying. So, lifting his mask, Dream picked up his glass and took a long, deliberate swig, and he tried not to let it touch his tongue.
“Happy?” he said when the glass hit the table.
“Dude, you don't have to drink if you don't— Whatever.” Purpled shook his head mildly. “You can do what you want.”
Dream was suddenly aware of how incredibly weird he was being—but it was fine. Purpled was fine; it would be fine. The sooner this alliance was over, the better.
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juliantheupsidedown · 9 months
Text
petit ange // leclerc family
this is a soft launch before the main part. maybe it will even grow into a series? I fell in love while I was doing it
it can be considered a kind of prologue. directed more to indicate the relationship between siblings leclerc
enjoy it! and be sure to let me know what you think about it
instagram edit
aurelie_leclerc
📍Monte Carlo, Monaco
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aurelie_leclerc les derniers jours de la maison avant le premier grand voyage dans une nouvelle vie (the last days at home before the first big journey into a new life)
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gg_giadagianni tu me manques déjà beaucoup (i miss you so much already)
aurelia_leclerc like your comments ❤️
arthur_leclerc i can't believe that a part of me will be at a distance of 10 thousand kilometres for most months of the year, disgusting! 😮‍💨
aurelie_leclerc no matter what distance separates us, you are always a part of me, and i am you
lorenzotl fier de toi et terriblement manqué (i'm proud of you and i miss you terribly)
leclerc_pascale mon petit ange ❤️
charles_leclerc come home soon
august 1, 2018
aurelie_leclerc
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aurelie_leclerc I still can't believe I missed his entire first season in Formula One. je suis si fier de toi, grand frère ❤️ (I'm so very proud of you, big brother)
tagged charles_leclerc
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charles_leclerc You should definitely visit Austin next year, miette ❤️
aurelie_leclerc Of course I'll be there!
leclercfans We are incredibly looking forward to seeing you in the paddock next year!
december 2, 2018
aurelie_leclerc
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aurelie_leclerc I'm not the one crying the night before the first class of the new semester, because my older brother won at Monza 😭❤️
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lerlecrfam She's such a proud sister, I can't now I'm crying again
charleslecfans the fact that Aurelia watches all the races live despite the huge time difference. CAN I HAVE A SISTER LIKE THAT?
september 8, 2019
lorenzotl
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lorenzotl SHE DID IT! I can't describe in words how proud I am of her, she proved to everyone - first of all to herself that she is worthy of it! And it was worth the tears we endured, the late-night Facetime calls in which she drops out of university and returns home, the terrible and difficult exams. My heart is overflowing with joy for my princess. I love you incredibly much, Aura. Nous sommes fiers de toi! (We are proud of you)
tagged aurelie_leclerc
View all 439 comments
leclerc_pascale Papa est très fier de toi, petit ange! (Dad is very proud of you, little angel!)
aurelie_leclerc maman 😭
charlottesiine félicitations, chérie! tu es si bien (congratulations, dear! you're so good)
aurelia_leclerc like your comments ❤️
arthur_leclerc I always knew you wanted to spray everyone with champagne, sis. je t'aime et je suis très fier (i love you and i am very proud)
famleclerc congratulations on completing your studies and returning home! we've missed you
f1lclercgirl Aurelia who sprays champagne like her brothers. I'm pretty sure that all these years she was jealous of them and wanted to repeat this trick 🥂
aurelia_leclerc like your comments ❤️
charles_leclerc I'm so sorry that on one of the most important days in your life we weren't there. But I am incredibly proud of you, knowing how much you had to go through, miette. my heart is overflowing with pride for you. And I can't wait to meet you at home ❤️
justlecgirl I cried for the second time from Charles' comment. can I have such a relationship with my brothers?
june 27, 2022
aurelie_leclerc
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aurelie_leclerc Happy birthday to my soul, my mind, my heart, the male version of me. I was lucky to be born with this handsome man on the same day and to be his pillow sister from birth. From the first second of my life, I'm a fan of his. and I'm incredibly proud of everything he does and was able to do! you are my support, my twin brother 🫶🏻
tagged arthur_leclerc
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lerlecrfam Happy birthday to the most wonderful twins!
leclercfans this collection of photos! I'M SO EMOTIONAL. happy birthday
valentinesine joyeux anniversaire, bébé. je t'aime beaucoup (happy birthday, baby. i love you very much)
charles_leclerc happy birthday, miette
f1fanmac are we really going to ignore the fact that Felipe liked the post?
october 14, 2022
arthur_leclerc
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arthur_leclerc I'm so happy because she chose me as her older twin brother. happy birthday 🤍
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famleclerc I feel that Arthur has deprived us of congratulations this year
mclarengim I think this is due to the fact that Aurelia is finally at home and he personally congratulated her, now there are not 10 thousand kilometers between them
leclerc_pascale mes petits anges, joyeux anniversaire (my little angels, happy birthday)
aurelie_leclerc I wish I had a choice. If I could, I would choose Charles as a twin. happy birthday, Arti
arthur_leclerc A dagger right in my heart on MY birthday
aurelie_leclerc *our birthday
felipedrugovich happy birthday 🎂
asstonmmartin omg Felipe appeared HERE TOO?!
october 14, 2022
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bau-drabbles · 1 year
Text
best friends
a/n: this is my first fic in this fandom so i apologise if it seems a little out of character and incredibly rushed in the chapter but i just wanted to write a lil cute moment for spencer :)
i hope you enjoy and requests are open if you'd like to send something! 🤍
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"This is so incredibly frustrating" Spencer muttered to Morgan who wrinkled his nose at he smelt the perfumes on the counter tops.
"C'mon genius there must be something here she likes. She's your mom, it should be easy" Morgan sighed and continued to prod the bottles while the Doc rubbed his forehead to ease some tension.
These headaches of his came in far more frequently and pained more then he cared to say. But his thoughts were interrupted by a ringtone and he looked at Derek who glanced down at his phone. He looked relieved to see it, hiding his micro expression from the other quickly.
But Spencer knew, he always did
"Ah I'll be back, give me a few minutes" He had already made his escape, eager to answer the call.
"Morgan... " Spencer rolled his eyes and went back to looking at the perfumes. They were all heavy on his nose and the workers were looking at him, expecting him to pay already. He had been way too long for someone browsing for an item.
The lights were harsh on his eyes and he sighed again in frustration, rubbing his temple. He walked forwards to a different counter, stumbling as his foot hit a bag.
"Sorry I-" He looked in front and there you were, stepping a few steps back to create some distance. So many words he wanted to say but not a single one passed his lips. That was until he glanced down and realised he probably tripped your bag.
You looked at him finally, your brows furrowed at the intrusion but it went slightly when you see the curly haired man stuttering an apology to you. You thought that was that and you turn away but he lingers a little longer than most would, internally debating with himself to say the next following words.
"Can I help you?" You tilt your head slightly, ready to guide him to someone else. Setting down the perfume in your hand, your eyes glance upon his. He seems desperate either to buy the gift or to get of the store, you didn't know.
"Um, I apologise but... you.... you're a woman right?" He sets down the perfumes in his hands and you nod, shrugging your bag on your shoulder
"10/10 observation" By the looks of his unruly curls and the stress lines on his forehead, you conclude he's present shopping for someone clearly rather important to him. It was sweet in a way. He cared so much about them.
"Do you need help?" You perk your eyebrow in curiosity, looking at the staff members that were all around.
"Sorry, I just... I know this sounds incredibly pathetic but it's my mothers birthday. And I have no idea what to get her. I don't suppose- I mean you're probably busy-" Spencer rambled, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. He had anticipated your rejection and he wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow him whole.
"So are you asking for my advice?" You clarified, chuckling a little. You see the look of relief that washes over his features.
"It's just that you seem like a well dressed woman and I need an honest opinion. Of course if you have places to be-" "No I can spare a few minutes, what does she like?" You don't particularly know why you help him, considering that you were also in a slight rush and needed to leave. But something about this man planted your feet in front of him, something about him you didn't know, forced you to stay.
"Roses, I think? But then there are so many that smells like flowers" He looked aghast at the perfumes bottles, his brain unable to comprehend which would be the better candidate for his mom.
"Well the one you're holding is more of a day perfume. Is there a reason why you're getting her a perfume, has she asked for it?" You inquired and he helplessly shrugged his shoulders a little. Blushing ever so slightly he rambled a little embarrassed by his lack of knowledge.
"No? Just women.... like perfume right?" Spencer awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, glancing to the floor in shame.
"Is it obvious I'm hopelessly pathetic?" He murmured, toying with the lid. He dares to make eye contact with you and you stare at him, giving a reassuring look.
"You want me to be honest?" "Slightly regretting it now"
"Most women at her age have a signature scent. Perhaps get her something like a scarf or a bag, something she can adorn alongside her own style?" You suggested, gesturing to the side. He didn't actually expect honesty that was actually beneficial let alone something he would actually consider and use.
"Thank you, that's really helpful" Spencer smiled and he turned his head towards the aisle, his lips dropping slightly as he saw the overwhelming amount of accessories.
You could've made your escape but yet you found yourself standing to his side, speaking once more.
"Do..... you need help picking out something?" "Please"
•••
"So the red or the brown?" "The red, it's beautiful" The silken scarf shone under the spotlight in the store and he gives you a thankful grin, quickly paying for his item. You turned to grab your bag as he comes back to you
"I just want to say thank you so much for taking time to save me from my own incompetence. I really appreciated it" He smiled softly and you felt your heart aching a little. The amount of time you spent with this man was so short and yet it felt like hours and hours, like you already knew him somehow.
"You're welcome...." You trail off just now remembering you hadn't caught his name and he sticks his palm out for you to shake. How easy he was to capture in a conversation, so interesting and yet you felt like there was so much more depth to him then he let on.
"Spencer" He speaks gently, your fingers graze his as he holds your hand. Such a common greeting yet it felt intimate to you. It felt personal, it felt right.
"Y/N. And you're welcome, it was lovely meeting you. I do hope your mom enjoys the gift" Your heart already hurts leaving him but you barely even know him so you turn away, knowing this interaction was going to stay for a while.
"W-wait..." He touches your shoulder and you turn around, the feeling of butterflies invading your body as he retracts his hand.
"Forgive the forwardness but perhaps you'd like to go out for some coffee? That is, if you're not busy. Of course if you are I-" You interrupt his rambling, unable to hide the small giggle that escapes your lips.
"Lead the way" Your lips tilted in a beautiful smile as his replicates its own, a warm feeling invading your body. Whatever this was, you looked forward to knowing. To experiencing.
To loving
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moonlightdreamzz · 8 months
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THIN APOLOGIES / PART 1
SUMMARY ✰ Mark is your boyfriend, and Vernon is your best friend. You're sick of Mark not treating you right, and Vernon is too. He's also sick of watching from the sidelines when he knows no one can make you happier than him.
PAIRING ✰ Idol!Mark x Idol!Reader x Idol!Vernon
GENRE ✰ ANGST & FLUFF
NOTE ✰ This is actually the first story I ever wrote in my entire life three years ago. It’s my baby. I said to myself, I should rewrite this because the original version was written like the beginner I was at the time. I hope you all enjoy. It’s so good.
© moonlightdreamzz
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Blonde by Frank Ocean has been playing on loop for hours over your speakers. For what seems like days, your gaze has been fixed on the candle blazing in front of you. There are numerous reasons why you can't take your eyes off its flame—the first being that if you do, you'll be forced to see all of the decorations and food you prepared for Mark, who has decided for the third time in a row that you aren't important enough to show up for. All of his favorite things are strewn throughout your living room, unused.
The second reason you can't tear your gaze away from the flame is that you're intrigued. The lavender-scented wax is nearing the end of its life after being used for so long. What happens when there’s none left? Does the flame die peacefully? Or does the jar burn and combust, leaving you regretting not extinguishing the flame sooner?
Sick isn't the word to describe how your boyfriend has made you feel over the past few months. You’ve tried to see the positives of his absence right now, but it’s utterly impossible. What could you say to yourself? At least you got ditched in the comfort of your own home this time, Y/N? And not in a restaurant, or a random parking lot his manager drove you to?
Mark always has his excuses of course. His favorite one to use was that you don’t understand the sacrifices it takes to be an idol. When the two of you first began to have issues, you took those words to heart. You know how much he’s sacrificed to be where he is, and you never wanted him to think you were that girl—the girl who got in a relationship with an idol and acted like she didn’t know what she was signing up for. As time passed, you realized that he was just manipulating you.
He’s so good at it too. Or maybe he’s just an incredibly beautiful man, whose doe eyes could convince anybody that he indeed is a good person—he just doesn’t think sometimes. You just wish he’d understand that you indeed do understand his life, it’s simply his unfulfilled promises that are so incredibly frustrating. Summer Walker once said, “it doesn’t matter how hard I I try, I say it nice, yell it out loud, write it down, I’m tired.” She damn sure was right.
“Why plan a date you can’t come to? Just tell me it’ll be awhile before I’ll see you again.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I thought I could make it.”
Your phone begins vibrating on your coffee table infront of you, interrupting the reflecting that you’re tired of doing anyways. You know it’s Mark, back again with whatever his reason is this time for not showing up. For a second, you consider not picking it up. Maybe if he knew what it felt like to be abandoned, he’d stop doing it to you.
You inhale deeply before picking up the phone, surprised at whose name is popping up.
“Vernon?” You whisper to yourself. You feel a brief burst of happiness before immediately shifting to concern due to the time of night.
You and Vernon have been close friends since debut. Some would say it’s because you two are the English speakers of your group, but you only saw that as a plus in your friendship. In reality, Vernon was a quirky, artsy, adorably curious boy, and you always felt this weird urge to…protect him. You figure he was drawn to how you never judged him, and how open you were about what you referred to as “Vernon’s philosophies”. He got your jokes, and you pretended you understood his. The rest is history.
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Laughter escapes your throat, scaring you simultaneously as you can’t remember the last time you genuinely found anything funny. In the midst of your giggles, Vernon begins to FaceTime you, and you don’t hesitate to answer the phone.
You can see through the phone how hard he’s trying to be irritated with you, but you also notice how bad he’s failing at doing so. The corner of his pink lips are twitching, and his hooded eyes are melting along with it as neither of you break virtual eye contact with each other. This only makes you laugh even harder. His flawless features don’t hold long, and he’s smirking boyishly now.
“You really think this is funny, huh?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well you know what I think is funny right now? You’re alone right now.” He jokes.
“Ha ha,” You laugh sarcastically, “Am I really this worthless? Like be honest.” You question, a sad smile naturally creeping onto your features as reality attempts to set back in.
Vernon’s eyes roll aggressively, followed by a deep inhale. You know him. He wants to tell you about yourself, and remind you of all the times you promised him you’d have more confidence, just to end up asking him questions like this in the end. It takes him longer than you expected to find kind words to say to you, but you appreciate the fact that he cares enough to spare you, because he wouldn’t do it for anyone else.
“Don’t ever call yourself worthless. He’s the worthless one. If he can’t see how amazing you are,that’s his problem and you shouldn’t just sit here and take it, Y/N. That’s not even like you.”
“But…I love him.”
“Yeah...that always sucks doesn’t it?” He says, almost as if he’s speaking to himself and not you. “I know it’s late, but how about I come keep you company Y/N?. You deserve to be happy for at least a few hours don’t you think?” He chuckles.
He’s no longer looking directly at you. He’s looking at whatever is below him now. Vernon coming to keep you company isn’t a terrible idea. Right now, you so deeply crave to be around someone who actually cares about you, and he’s a clear candidate.
“Yeah! Let me get dressed and I’ll come pick you up.”
“Do really think I’d let you leave your house at this hour to do anything for me?”
“Well, how else are you gonna get here? You don’t have a car and I know your manager is knocked out.”
His boyish smile returns, and you already know a sarcastic comment is closer than around the corner. “You ever heard of uber?”
Now you’re the one rolling your eyes. Was this okay? I mean, the two of you are only friends, but Dispatch nor fans would care about that if they so happened to be stalking you. Him coming over late could turn into a whole situation that you aren’t in the mood to hear about.
“What if you get caught?” You question, although unconsciously do you begin to tidy up in your living room.
“I didn’t.”
He didn’t? Was he already—
Your doorbell ringing interrupts your thoughts.
“Vernon!” You scream through the phone, so many questions running through your mind.
“Are you going to let me in, or are we gonna hangout from outside the door?” He snickers slyly.
You should have known he was up to no good the moment you couldn't identify where he was from his surroundings. All you saw was darkness, but you imagined he was walking around his neighborhood or simply in the dark, because that was so Vernon.
With precision and quickness, you run to the door and open it. You’re still dolled up; face beat like it’s prom night from the date you should’ve been wrapping up by now. Vernon steps in, and for a second it seems like he’s frozen in place. It’s embarrassing, as you often got reactions like this when you dressed up because without an occasion, you were going to choose sweatpants, a graphic tee, and crocs everytime.
“Woah.” He utters.
“What? You just saw me on the phone, Vernon.” You question amusingly before walking to your kitchen to grab him a water.
“Thank you.” He whispers as he takes it out of your hand. “It’s just…you’re so…ugly.”
You know that he thinks you’re going to hit him immediately, so you wait an extra second before punching him lightly in his stomach.
“Shut up!” You laugh, loudly this time. It’s a rare occurrence these days for anything to unconsume your mind of Mark Lee, but Vernon’s doing that with ease right now. “You stay your ass right there and I’ll be back. I should probably take all this off.” You whisper while pointing to you and all your current glory.
“Take your time.” Vernon utters, no funny business in the room now. His smile is gentle as he nudges you towards your room.
You began walking in slow motion down your hallway. “Oh trust me, I will.” It doesn’t take you long to strip down to your natural state. You remove your clothes first, settling on a gray t-shirt you’ve had for years. If you didn’t have company, you’d stop it at that. You decide on some matching gray pajama shorts. The sight of Mark’s clothes in the drawer pisses you off all over again. As you remove your makeup, you can't help but squeal with delight. The wipes that you bought in replacement of the ones that took way too many to clean your face, was worth the investment.
The final touch is your bonnet, which you slip on your head with ease. Your icy feet drag over the hallway floor, a flood of fatigue washing over you.
“Awe.” Vernon coos when you reappear. In the midst of you getting ready for bed, he carefully placed all of the decorations you left out for Mark out of sight in the kitchen. He really wanted to throw it away, but that wasn’t his decision to make. Netflix is waiting for two of you.
“Don’t awe me.” You plop yourself on the couch so hard you’re pretty sure Vernon levitates for a second. You push the button to recline your seat, shutting your eyes right and leaning your head back with a sigh. “Thank you, Vernon.” You say the second you realize he cleaned up your clutter. The room feels less heavy now that you’re not forced to look at your wasted hard work. You feel his gaze on you, but energetically, you can’t interpret why he’s staring at you. You’ll settle on pity.
“Ah, I haven’t done much. Plus, you’ve always been there for me.”
Your comfort turns into guilt, recalling all the times you haven’t been there for your close friend in the midst of you and Mark’s relationship crashing. “Not like this.” You utter.
“Well, no you haven’t surprised me with a big box of donuts and a new video game,” He chuckles, “But you’ve been there for me. A lot of times unknowingly, if I’m being honest. Your presence alone…does a lot for me—I mean, for people.” He rambles. “Plus, I’m one of a kind, anyways.”
A smile creeps onto your features at him teasing you lovingly. You’re beginning to doze off, which typically makes you stare at things unintentionally. Your target tonight is Vernon, who is sitting extremely close to you right now. Your hand begins to entangle themselves in his locs, causing his eyes to flutter in relaxation.
“Enough about me.” You protest softly, “What’s going on in the life of Hansol, hm?”
“Nothing much,” He whispers, enjoying the feeling of your hands running through his scalp. His eyes are stuck on the ceiling, but you know he’s still listening to you. “I’m like a robot these days. I wake up, go to practice, go back to the dorm, sleep, repeat.”
“Why didn’t eat make the list?”
“Oh yeah, that too. But you know me. If I have to pick between sleeping and eating, I’m picking the first option.”
“Oh I know.” You can’t count on one hand the amount of times you scolded Vernon for sleeping too much, even though you do the same thing the second you get a break from schedules.
“Too much of a good thing, is a bad thing, Vernon.”
“Not everything.” He whispers, seemingly dazed out now. You’re ceiling wasn’t that interesting. He has something on his mind, but you’re not sure if you want to pick his brain. If he wanted you to know what’s on his mind, he’d say it. At the same time, you’re his right hand woman, and he’ll just have to deal with you being in his business.
Your eyebrows raise in an interrogative fashion. “Give me an example?”
“You.” He says simply. His eyes lock themselves into yours confidently, but you’re unsure how to feel. What was he trying to say? Is he flirting? Is he just being kind? It’s always been so hard for you to understand him when he gets like this.
“What about me?” Is all you can manage. You’re not sure why you’re nervous now, but you are. You hope you’re not making it obvious that his comment has made your breathing unsteady.
“I’m just saying it’s impossible to get tired of you. ‘Too much’ of you,” he air quotes, “would make the world a much better place.”
“You think so?” You question genuinely. “Mark doesn’t seem to think so.”
“Mark is a fucking idiot.” He spits out.
“I’m not gonna disagree.”
“I mean look at everything you did for him today, just for him to not show up?” Vernon begins to frantically point in all directions of your home, including at yourself as well as your kitchen. “What kind of boyfriend doesn’t come home to this?”
Silence is the only thing you can provide right now. One because he’s right, but two, because you’ve never seen Vernon so riled up on your behalf. He was the one always talking you off cliffs, not the other way around.
“Sorry,” He clears his throat. His voice is back to his regular tone now.
“Don’t be. Thank you for caring about me.”
You don’t know why, but you feel a desire to nuzzle into Vernon’s shoulder, so you do. Naturally, he wraps his arm around your shoulder to allow you more comfortability. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s not, but it doesn’t feel wrong being in his arms right now. You know if you consider Mark, you should pull away, but when’s the last time Mark considered you?
“Is this okay?” He questions, his tone a mixture of hope and concern as he’s likely reading your mind right now. He had a knick for that when it came to you.
“It’s okay.” You decide. I mean, who’s going to catch you?
The two of you lay like that for the remainder of the night, watching a movie that Vernon puts on, but you can't concentrate. All you can think of is how you're lying in the arms of another man, your heart fluttering. That isn't supposed to happen. However, your thoughts are brief because you quickly find yourself dozing off in his arms that feel as if they never want to let you go.
It’s the wee hours of the morning when your phone rings, and then vibrates, indicating someone has called and texted you.
You and Vernon sleep through it.
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TO BE CONTINUED
© moonlightdreamzz
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burr-ell · 3 months
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Genuine question bc i always psyche myself out of writing due to this exact fear, how do we differentiate and avoid Shallow Angst when we pursue writing character studies? Situational angst seems straight forward where it's like oh no character got Hurt and now needs to be Comforted (the "plot" seems out to get this dude hurt and everyone centers on said dude with little other exploration), but say we did want to look at canon grief, using Vex as the example; what is the good way and what is the bad way to explore it? When do we go too far into excluding the rest of the story?
So I had conversations with @blorbologist and @essayofthoughts about this very thing, and what it basically boils down to is this: are you looking at these emotions realistically, taking into consideration the massive spectrum of how these characters interact with them and attempting to push past your own limited perspective of how feelings work, or are you just using them as a vessel to convey how you feel about something or what you think should happen?
Because there are plenty of very good fanworks that involve angst! Angst is, in simple terms, the examination of anxiety, dread, and sadness, and that absolutely has a place in the creation of art. Well-written angst attempts to find the character's voice in it all—it considers how they've dealt with emotions like that in canon, it asks what real-life expressions of grief or sorrow make sense for that character to convey based on their personality and past history, and as all good fanworks (and original works) do, it comes from a desire to understand someone who is not like you.
Take the example of Vex:
How would Vex deal with the loss of Vax? Based on what we know about her, I think it's safe to say that yes, she would be leaning a lot on Percy and Trinket, burying herself in her work some days to avoid the worst of it, but there are also days she'd be avoiding Percy, and maybe even Trinket, to go off on her own. I think she'd hold resentment toward the Raven Queen, even as I think she'd also want to keep the shrine standing in Vax's memory and actively push herself to forgive her. It would be complicated even further by her pregnancy, and all of the hormonal imbalances and physical complications that would entail. It would be complicated even further by the fact that she and Syldor canonically attempt to reconcile specifically in the wake of Vax's death; while I doubt they'd see much of each other in the first year or two, I think they would both be making incredibly awkward and loaded overtures that would be emotionally complicated and draining.
There are times she would lash out and times she would be hollow, and there's a lot she probably wouldn't be able to talk about because she just can't, because grief isn't something you can often put into words. There's a lot she'd also laugh and joke and smile about, because coping with loss means letting the wound scab over. There are times she'd be able to connect to Percy and Keyleth over the loss and times she couldn't, because the loss of a loving-but-complicated family and the loss of a lover don't feel quite the same as the loss of a twin who was all you had for over a decade.
There are a lot of ways to convey all that! There's no "right" answer; this is up for interpretation. But I do think "Vex will never braid her hair again cause Vax used to do that!" is definitely a wrong one.
Vex and Vax were codependent, but I think people tend to overstate the degree, and tend to ignore their canonical relationship development and Vex's characterization. I think it's important to note that Vex actually handles being separated from Vax during the Trial of the Take arc much better than Vax handles it; she makes fast friends with Zahra and generally seems to be enjoying herself and having a good time. Vex closes herself off a lot, but I think an underrated part of her speech at Percy's resurrection is how it recontextualizes the titling in Syngorn—he made her a part of something precious to him, and by the end of the campaign her stated goal is "make Whitestone the tits". Vex didn't just like, wind up as a city figurehead by marriage and shrug and decide to make the best of it; she was offered a chance and made it her bitch. The Raven Queen took part of Vex away when she took Vax, not all of her.
Yes, the loss is incredibly tragic and the end of Campaign 1 is bittersweet, but there are ways to portray Vex dealing with it that don't involve the general tenor of "ALRIGHT EVERYONE, DAILY REMINDER TO BE SAD ABOUT VAX". Like, I don't think Vex's first thought when she saw Laudna's body was "she looks just like Vax :( time for my daily Two Minutes Sad". (My issue with that isn't even whether the thought might occur to her—it absolutely could! But after thirty years, I doubt it would have been anywhere near the same level as "this innocent young woman was horribly killed for looking like me and I have to help her however I can; also if Delilah comes back I can should must and will tear her a new asshole". Like, the Vax thing might have come up long in the aftermath of her and Percy's inevitable late-night alcohol-induced therapy railing, but probably not before.)
A lot of the shallow angst you see in fandom generally has the same voice—not necessarily because it's written by the same people (although you do see many of the same people purveying it), but because the trending popular angst has to trend and be popular somehow, and it does so by channeling thoughts and emotional expressions that are broadly approved and accepted by the community, whatever that community happens to be. The characters in these fanworks behave the way that they do regardless of whether or not it makes sense in the narrative because shallow angst isn't about the narrative—it's about making your audience sad in the specific, narrow way that you are sad. It's about projecting yourself and your own emotions and how you would deal with them onto a character instead of trying to really understand someone who's different from you.
In our discussion, Blorb described fanworks in a way that really resonated with me—they're conversations with canon. Good, effective conversations are real attempts to communicate with people, trying to understand where they're coming from and connecting with who they are. Shallow conversations are one or multiple parties only thinking of the other person as a reflection of themselves, getting out their own thoughts and feelings with little interest in trying to figure out who other people actually are. And it's not that I think people who make these kinds of works are ontologically bad; it's that I think they're stifling their own creativity and growth. Everyone deserves better than to be limited to themselves.
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canuck-eh · 11 months
Text
I Wouldn't Mind
@montyfandomlove This one is for you! 💕 I changed a few things so it would flow more naturally, I hope you can still enjoy it.
MINORS DNI - 18+
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner (dbf!hotch) x Fem!Reader
Word count: 4.9k
Warnings: smut but just one spicy pepper, tooth-rotting fluff, inspired by music so it's... anyway, bad writing, I guess?
(Let me know if I missed anything)
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A/N: I listened to this song a friend showed me and it helped me write this. I hope you enjoy this! As usual, it hasn't been proofread and I really don't know how I feel about this one, I feel like the writing isn't great, but hey, it's dbf!hotch!!!
Your dad’s golf buddies were all considered your uncles. They were all part of the support system that had seen you become an adult, they were part of your life, part of your family. They had all raised you to some extent and thus, you considered them your uncles. Your dad also called them your uncles, and everything was perfect the way it was. It had been unusual to be raised by a bunch of men, but they were great men and very early on, they had taught you important lessons. It mostly explained your current taste in men, which for the most part was older and respectful gentlemen.
Aaron Hotchner had only recently walked in on that support system. Your dad had hired him to teach you golf basics (per your request). The only problem with your request was that your dad had hired the most delightful eye candy, and what was worse, your dad had taken a liking to him, making Aaron a constant in your life, at least during the summer.
Aaron was a nice man, and if you blushed whenever he praised your golf talents, you were both incredibly talented at ignoring that fact.
Today, Aaron was teaching you how to nail your approach shots, which really, were already your best asset. Using your irons, you hit the ball repeatedly, watching proudly as it rolled onto the practice field.
“You’re doing great, darling.”
You hated the fact that Aaron was so casual with pet names, but to keep a lid on it, you attributed that to the fact that he was probably just not very good with names.
“Dad always told me that approach shots were as important as the tee shot,” you replied, offering him a proud smile.
“Your dad taught you well.”
“You’re doing a great job, too.”
For once, for the first time in weeks of working with Aaron, you weren’t the one who blushed. You wondered if you had imagined it, but you chose to explain it as Aaron being hot. It was a nice day and the humidity was making it even hotter. Your clothes were sticking to your skin and you really looked forward to tonight’s pool party at your summer house. Your dad had started to rent the house on the beach only recently, but it had become your favorite thing in the summer.
You saw your dad walk towards you and Aaron, so you focused on getting a few more shots in, mostly because you couldn’t look at Aaron the way you wanted to when your dad was around.
Your dad clasped Aaron’s shoulders as he saw you hit the ball perfectly, thanking Aaron for making you a decent golf player. You felt their eyes on you, but you focused on hitting the practice balls as best as you could.
“She’s a natural,” Aaron explained. His voice was always so even and sometimes, it really bugged you. Aaron seemed like the kind of man who was always in control and you really wanted to know if he ever lost it. You shook those thoughts away because it wasn’t the right time to think about Aaron like this. You usually kept those thoughts for when you were alone.
“She is,” your dad agreed. You were proud that your dad was proud of you. It was your favorite feeling; to know he didn’t think you were a disappointment. Disappointing him was your worst fear. “Honey, we should head back. We have a few things to set up for tonight’s pool party.”
You picked up your 9 iron and you smiled at your dad, opting not to hug or kiss his cheek after spending most of the day away from him. It was too hot and humid for affection.
“I need to go change. My stuff is in my locker.”
Your dad nodded and you offered a nod in goodbye to Aaron, opting to walk away before your eyes lingered on him for too long.
“Wait, sweetie—” you turned around and looked at your dad, your eyes stopping on Aaron’s frame again. He looked absolutely delicious in his dark polo and you had to get away before your brain melted from the heat. “Help me convince Aaron to come over tonight.”
It was both a blessing and a curse that your dad liked Aaron. The biggest issue was that you liked Aaron, too. Way beyond what was acceptable. At first, you thought it was just a crush because Aaron was the most handsome man you had ever laid eyes on, but at time went by, it became abundantly clear you liked Aaron. Aaron wasn’t much of a talker around you, but you heard everything he said to your dad and sometimes, you wondered if he knew you were keeping an ear out to listen to him. It was a blessing because Aaron was kind, gentle and a good friend to your dad, yet, it was a curse because he was often around and that surely didn’t help to forget about how good he looked, about how nice he smelled, about how nice he was to you.
Your brain came back online after you noticed both men were staring at you and you nodded at your dad’s request. “You should come, Aaron. It’s the best pool party you’ll ever experience.”
Aaron offered you a faint smile, a smile you were almost certain hurt his cheek muscles because the man didn’t smile. “I promise I’ll think about it, then.”
You smiled back and you went about collecting your things, changing into one of your favorite summer dresses. You saw your dad waiting for you outside the women’s locker room as you exited it.
“I’ll take your truck and go pick up the Adirondack chairs at Mrs. Langley’s. Take the Porsche and go pick up the wine cases, okay?”
You nodded, way too happy your dad was about to let you drive the Porsche to care about anything else.
You exchanged keys and your dad added, “I talked to Aaron, he’ll join you outside and he’ll come help you out. It was the only way he would agree to come. If he could help.”
Shit. The Porsche was a great car, but it wasn’t exactly a big car. Aaron was broad and if nothing else, the proximity combined with his scent, well, you would need the A/C to prevent your brain from melting.
You gave your dad a brief hug before you both walked outside into the parking lot. You saw a tall frame near your dad’s Porsche and when you neared it, it was clear Aaron had changed. He looked beautiful in a pale blue dress shirt and khakis, and you spared a thought for him because it was very hot today.
“Ready to go?” you asked.
It was a fairly stupid question considering Aaron was waiting near the car but you were grateful he just chose to nod.
You unlocked the car and you sat in the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition and lowering the windows to get some air as you waited for the A/C to work its magic.
You chose to plug in your phone to have some music soothe your nerves as you felt Aaron’s eyes on you when he took his seat on the passenger’s side. He almost looked ridiculous in the car because he was too tall and large for such a tiny car. Yet, he looked at home next to you. You discarded that thought as soon as it reared its ugly head.
“Do we need to drive you back here tonight so you can pick up your car?”
“No. Your dad gave me your address and it turns out, you’re about four houses down the beach from mine. So you can drive me back tomorrow and have fun tonight.”
You scoffed, amused at the idea that you would have to drive him back here at all. “I can drive you back? Are you a passenger princess, Aaron?”
Aaron chuckled dryly and as much as you loved hearing that new sound coming out of his mouth, it wasn’t going to end well for you if he did it again because it sounded adorable.
“If you want me to be,” he replied.
You looked at him to find him smiling broadly at you, a pair of sunglasses hiding his beautiful dark eyes but you could tell he was poking fun.
“What does that mean?” you teased just as the A/C started kicking in.
You kicked the car into gear, loving how shifting gears occupied both your mind and your hand.
“I think you like being in control.”
You chuckled at that, looking at Aaron briefly. “Oh, can you smell the irony?” you joked.
It wasn’t something that went said between you, but it was clear that if anyone loved control, it was Aaron.
Aaron laughed and you knew a second in that you were done. His laugh had done it for you. You vowed to hear it again before the end of the night.
You turned up the volume so the music would give you an excuse to be distracted by something else than Aaron and of course, you would have to listen to Moves by Suki Waterhouse.
You chose to mouth the lyrics but it wasn’t long before you were singing it as loud as you could, throwing caution to the wind while in the car. You felt restless, and it wasn’t just because you were close to Aaron. There was something unspoken in the looks he was giving you, in the light teasing, in the whole way he acted around you. It had been like that since the end of your first lesson with him. He was a nice man, you could tell, but he looked like he was keeping himself in check and you almost hated that fact.
You knew why he kept a careful distance; it was probably the same reason why you did. You wouldn’t go as far as to assume he reciprocated your feelings in any way, but you knew there was some attraction there. It didn’t take a lot of experience with men to know that. You could also tell Aaron wasn’t naturally grumpy all the time. He was hiding, and you really hoped you could bring him out of hiding at some point if he let you.
The song ended just as you parked in front of your dad’s wine guy and you got out of the car with Aaron who was looking at you strangely. You both carried the wine cases back to the car before you thanked your dad’s wine guy and entered the car to go back to the house.
Aaron broke the silence by clearing his throat and you looked at him to make sure he was alright. “What was that song earlier?”
“Moves. By Suki Waterhouse.”
You were both looking at one another and behind two pairs of sunglasses, you could still tell something lurked behind his eyes and yours. Something in the atmosphere of the car had shifted and it was exhilarating to think Aaron maybe felt it tingling his extremities as much as you were.
“It was good.”
You nodded and smiled at him, debating whether you should offer him to listen to it again, but if he had liked it, who were you to deny him Suki’s talents?
“Do you want to listen to it again?” you offered.
“I’d like that, yes.”  
You offered Aaron your unlocked phone and added, “Just press play on my phone.”
Aaron pressed play like he was told and soon, the music took over.
You drove to your summer house, parking the Porsche in the garage. Before you knew it, you were emptying the wine cases on the kitchen counter and your dad still wasn’t home.
You wondered what you should do with Aaron, but you knew you were supposed to be a good host, so you offered him a drink.
“What can you make?” he asked.
“Well, I was about to have a Long Island Iced Tea. Do you want one?”
“Yes. Please. Thank you.”
You nodded and offered him a polite smile, choosing not to focus on how beautiful he looked again. You couldn’t help the thought, but you could help your reaction to it.
You made your drinks strong, strong enough to make a grown man wince apparently.
“Are you trying to get me drunk, darling?”
You shrugged, taking a large sip of your drink and realizing just how strong you had made them. “Well, perhaps it’s the only way I’ll see you lose control.”
Aaron’s brows furrowed but he took another sip. “Control isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
You understood what he was saying and yet, you decided to walk right into it. You approached Aaron, trying to make it clear you wanted him to lose it a bit. You wanted him to know you wouldn’t hide it if he didn’t. You put a gentle hand in the middle of his chest when he didn’t walk backward, and you didn’t miss how his breath got caught in his throat, you didn’t miss how he closed his eyes and tried to breathe.
“Aaron, I think it’s a bad thing when it prevents you from doing things you want to do.”
Aaron opened his eyes and looked down at you, his eyes landing on your lips as you licked them. Time was suspended. You knew he was fighting this internally, but you wouldn’t move away. You would wait for him to lean down, to pick you up, to do anything he dared to do.
You heard your dad lock the car in the driveway, its beeping noise familiar to you, and you moved away from Aaron, a gleeful smile on your lips as you sipped on your drink.
He wasn’t as unaffected as he often pretended to be. He wasn’t stoic and grumpy, well maybe a bit, but mostly, he was just hiding. You knew that because you knew him. It didn’t matter whether he had intended you to hear everything he had said to your father, you knew him regardless of what information he had offered about himself. You wouldn’t pretend to know all of him, but you knew him. You knew him where it mattered.
Your dad walked in as you both sipped on your drinks, a respectful distance from one another now evident and a careful look in Aaron’s direction told you this wasn’t over. Thankfully, your dad asked for Aaron’s help with putting the chairs around the pool and with that, it wasn’t long before all of your ‘uncles’ were around the pool, either sitting in the Adirondack chairs with their drinks or swimming around in the pool.
You often found yourself glancing in Aaron’s direction and he was deep in conversation with your dad so you let him be. Whether you talked about whatever it was that was between you or whether you eventually chose to act on it, it didn’t matter right now. The only thing that mattered was that it seemed to be real, at least real enough to get Aaron a bit flustered earlier in the kitchen. That was enough, and perhaps it would have to be enough too.
You walked back inside, opting to pour yourself some scotch from your dad’s expensive collection and you were almost done with your first few ounces when you saw Aaron walk into the house.
“May I have whatever it is you’re having right now?” he said as he pointed at your glass.
“Aren’t you scared I’ll try to get you drunk?” you teased.
He smirked as he neared you, hovering close enough for you to touch but keeping a respectable distance considering you were standing in your dad’s kitchen.
“A wise woman told me it wouldn’t be the worst thing if I ever lost control.”
You matched his smirk, your fingers daring to smooth his forearm gently. “Very wise woman, indeed.”
Aaron looked down at your hand on him, his eyes dark as they met yours. “Pretty, too.”
You patted his chest lightly, blushing at the compliment. You chose to add to it to hide your blushing cheeks. “Intelligent, witty, sexy,” you started to enumerate.
Aaron chuckled as he smoothed a stray hair away from your face, a beautiful smile on his lips as he whispered, “Humble.”
You looked behind Aaron, finding the coast clear. You hugged him briefly. “That’s certainly her best quality,” you uttered against his chest.
He laughed again and you were aware that you’d never get enough of the sound now. Once or twice wasn’t enough. You wanted to hear it again and again. You wanted to record it and savour it. You wanted to be the cause for as long as he would let you.
You cupped his cheek, your thumb gently grazing his lips. “You have such a beautiful smile. It’s a pity I don’t get to see it more often.” He smiled even more broadly at the compliment, a nervous laugh escaping his throat. “I love your laugh, too.”
Aaron planted a soft kiss on your forehead before he moved away, surely a bit self-conscious that this was happening, and in your dad’s kitchen, with your dad a few feet away.
“Do you think your dad would notice if we went walking on the beach?”
You shook your head. “I don’t think he would, actually. He was talking about Phil Collins and that’s usually my cue to know that he’s too drunk to care about anything else.”
“Shall we, then?”
“Let’s go.”
You allowed Aaron to lead you towards the beach, walking side by side as the sun set. You removed your sandals after you realized it was irritating to feel the sand everywhere on your feet.
It was nice to walk with Aaron. He didn’t talk and you let him figure out whether he wanted to talk about it. After the sun had set and you had walked far enough away, Aaron took your hand and pulled you towards him.
“Do you want to sit with me?”
“We could, but I’m afraid I’ll get sand in places I don’t want it to be.”
Aaron smirked, his hands landing at the bottom of your back. “You could always sit on top of me.”
“I guess I could.”
Aaron sat in the sand, offering you his hand and waiting for you to join him. “Then, please do.”
His arms went around your waist as soon as you sat on top of him and you let your back meet his firm chest. You felt safe, safer than you ever had before, and it wasn’t the kind of feeling you wanted to ever let go of. A light kiss ghosted your bare shoulder and you felt a chill running up your spine as much as it felt like Aaron was setting your skin on fire.
“I don’t know how to proceed.”
You turned a bit in his embrace, careful to remain seated on top of him. Sand in your coochie wasn’t how you wanted to spend the next few days.
You were in half a mind to sit sideways on him, but Aaron moved you so swiftly and before you knew it, you were straddling his lap like it was natural for you to do so, yet you had never really touched the man before.
“Really?” you chuckled breathlessly. The way he had moved you alone made you incrementally aware he was experienced. “I always thought you had a lot of experience,” you joked.
Aaron cupped your face, a loving look behind his eyes making you hyper-aware of everywhere where your bodies met and touched. “Not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.”
“What do we do?” he asked.
As much as the man always exhumed confidence and control around you, right now, he seemed lost. And as much as you were hoping he’d find you; you were hoping finding you wouldn’t cost him.
You cupped his face tenderly, a small smile on your lips as you tried to convey with a simple gesture that even if you hadn’t kissed yet, you would be by his side if he let you.
“If you want me half as much as I want you, we’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t want this to be a summer fling.”
You smiled at that, aware that if you talked, you would betray yourself. You would let him know you were listening in on his conversations with your dad, but you didn’t care.
“You live in Virginia, and I’ll be going to Georgetown in the fall for my Ph.D. We can do this any way you want, Aaron.”
“You heard that, huh?”
“I tend to listen to what you’re saying,” you admitted, looking down at where your hands landed on his chest.
Aaron chuckled, grabbing your chin to make you look him in the eye. “I know, sweetheart. Why do you think I say things to your dad in the first place?”
You smiled as you saw Aaron glance at your lips and you licked your lips in anticipation because if you knew one thing for sure, it was that Aaron wanted to kiss you right now.  
“Kiss me, Aaron, please.”
Aaron closed the distance and it didn’t take long for you to actively pant into his mouth, especially when his tongue met yours. It had only grazed yours and you couldn’t form a single coherent thought.
Your hips moved of their own accord on top of him, rocking back and forth as the kiss deepened and slowed, much like the waves a few feet away from you. You had gained a nice rhythm and it was so easy to get lost in everything you were feeling that you didn’t stop when Aaron gripped your hips forcefully. If anything, it only fueled you to keep going.
You heard him hiss as you ran your hands behind his head and he started kissing your neck softly, his breath warm and heavy as your hips rutted against his core. You moaned at the loss of his mouth on yours, but you were more than happy to feel his lips on your skin. You lifted your dress a little, just to feel more of him and Aaron gripped your hips even harder, gritting his teeth and moving back to look at you.
“Please stop moving.”
You knew he wasn’t asking because he didn’t like what was happening. It was obvious it was quite the contrary. You had felt him twitch in his pants and you knew that he was panting way too hard for it not to be enjoyable.
You were positive he had half-moaned when your fingernails had grazed his skull.
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll have to clean the mess you’re about to make in my boxers.”
You leaned down enough to whisper in his ear, “You say that like it’s a punishment.”
You grinded your hips lower as you lifted the bottom of your dress to bare your panties to him, his eyes immediately darting down to look at you.
“Oh god,” he groaned as his eyes rolled back inside his head.
You were more determined now to get him off but not if he wasn’t happy to let go. “Are you sure you want me to stop, Aaron?”
He shook his head and a grunt escaped his throat. A needy grunt that sent shivers down your spine. The air was colder now, and the wind was chilly enough to make this feel even more delicious.
“Don’t, please-- Such a good girl for me.”
Hearing Aaron praise you had always done wonders, but right now? Well, the feeling was unparalleled.
You moved more adamantly on top of him, desperate to find more friction yourself. “Can you touch me?” you pleaded, a bit out of breath.
Aaron smirked proudly, surely proud to find you as affected as he was, but a hand found its way between you as you grinded your clothed cunt on top of him and his other hand found a way under your dress, enough to trace your spine with gentle fingers.
He moved your soaked panties away to the side to put a finger on you and you chased your own relief on him, his finger relentlessly moving on your clit. You were a whiny moaning mess but Aaron silenced you with his mouth meeting yours. He kissed you until you were unable to breathe and when you felt him smile into the kiss, you were done. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten and when he flicked his finger roughly on your clit a few more times, you felt his smile resting against your lips as he breathed heavily, matching your moans one by one. You lost it spectacularly, but you still found it in you to rock your hips on top of him without much of a rhythm. You were shaking so violently as your orgasm rattled you from head to toe that you were almost certain Aaron had groaned and shot up in his pants, but what gave him away was his teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle his sounds as his own orgasm rocked him.
“You’re beautiful.”
You couldn’t help but beam at the compliment because you only wanted one man to find you beautiful, and here he was, saying it.
“So are you.”
“When did you… you know?” you asked, curious as to when Aaron had seen you as anything else than your dad’s daughter.
“I don’t—I think I always wanted you to some extent. But the more I got to know you, the more I had to try and hide how incredible I found you.”
“That’s why you always looked so grumpy,” you explained, cupping his face and looking him in the eye.
His dark eyes sparkled in the night and he looked happy. You knew without a doubt he wasn’t always grumpy by now, but he looked dazed and drunk on happiness right now and it was a good look on him.
“How did you call it? You said it to me a few hours into our first lesson.”
You chuckled as you remembered your frustration with his frown the first time you had met him. “I told you that you had a resting bitch face.”
“That’s the one,” he replied, laughing.
The sound really warmed your heart and you leaned down to capture the sound with your lips. He kissed you back and it was clear to you that his lips were going to become your favorite meal.
“Well, now I know you’re not grumpy all the time. You’re actually very lovely. Even if you look hot when you frown, your smile is incredible.”
It wasn’t hard to make Aaron smile, especially when you complimented him. You would do it every day if it meant getting to see those dimples.
“No one has ever called me ‘lovely’ before.”
You caressed his face as his hands caressed your back, and the sweetness of it all made your heart pound in your chest. You had just climaxed together, and as beautiful as it had been, it was raw and unrehearsed, and certainly not as ‘proper’ as it could have been for a first time together. Yet, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. It had been perfect.
“Well, then… Get used to it because you’re eye candy and you’re the best man I know.”
Aaron looked at you with something you couldn’t quite place, but if you had to guess, you would say adoration and admiration were good guesses. He smiled before you planted a kiss on his crown, taking his hand into yours.
“I’m scared,” he admitted.
“Me too. But let’s not be scared tonight. We’ll talk it through and we’ll find a way to make it work if you want it to. But let’s just be in this moment together—” you paused to think about what to do to make it better, but it occurred to you that something could help wash away your doubts and worries for now. “I think we should go feel the waves,” you suggested.
“I’ll go in with you on one condition: When you drive me back tomorrow morning, we’ll listen to that song again and then we’ll have breakfast together. Like a normal couple.”
“Anything you want, Aaron. I’m yours. I mean it. For as long as you’ll have me.”
He smiled and you both made your way to the water, fully dressed. It was cold but refreshing and Aaron held you firmly against him. He planted a few kisses on your face before his lips met yours again.
“Will you spend the night with me?” he asked softly against your lips as you struggled to find your words.
He was a talented kisser and you couldn’t wait to have him kiss your entire body.
You put your arms around his neck, a smirk on your lips as you lowered yourself to have your lips hover inches above his again. “Thought you’d never ask.”
You kissed him sweetly, your lips crashing against his as the waves danced around you both. Your feelings for Aaron and this whole night were gentle yet powerful, just like the ocean that surrounded you. Aaron smiled into the kiss and you knew without a doubt that you wouldn’t mind if he was the only man you would kiss for the rest of your life.  
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butch-reidentified · 6 months
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ID: Screenshot reading "You will recognise it as an arguable point as soon as you switch the victim to a species that you think morally matters. Humans will inevitably die too" followed by a comma before the screenshot cuts off. It is not shown who the author is.
Preface: This will be a long post, but I think it's worthwhile as part of my efforts to open up real conversation about psychopathy and the stigma + misinformation surrounding it. The main reason I'm making a separate post instead of reblogging is that this post is not really intended to be about veganism. I'm more using the contents of the above screenshot to dive more into a topic I've touched on a few times recently.
Humans being "a species that you think morally matters" is an interesting assumption I often see vegan activists make. I've been undecided for a while about talking about this because I know how controversial this is and don't feel a strong desire to deal with the fallout of posting it/saying it outright, but seeing as I've always tried to be as honest and open as possible in here: I do not actually think humans "morally matter." I do not think killing is inherently wrong, either, regardless of species. Just about every creature on Earth engages in killing, either of each other or of members of other species, if not both. I don't think humans are sacred or special in any way, and thus are no exception. I don't see humans killing each other as any more INHERENTLY (this word is incredibly important here... obviously) wrong than, say, leopards killing each other. My culture used to engage in religious human sacrifice, so I have thought about this a whole lot, and it is a bit of a discourse topic in my community to this day (some even think we would be better off today if we had not stopped giving human sacrifices to the gods).
Most arguments for killing being inherently immoral that I've encountered are directly or indirectly rooted in religion, a societal value accepted without question, and/or the result of emotional reactions. One response I often get to this is that if I don't think killing is inherently wrong, I'm not allowed to be sad about it or grieve when people are killed - the idea being that this is somehow hypocritical. This is nonsense. I don't believe abortion is wrong in any way, but I'd never dream of telling someone who had mixed feelings about her abortion that she was a hypocrite for it*. Having complex, mixed, or even negative emotions about something does not make that thing immoral. Not to jump too far into moral philosophy**, but my view is that emotional responses are not - or at least should not be - an indicator of morality in any capacity. I suspect that more people agree with me on this than realize they do, and here is an example of why: Some people feel badly about killing an insect in their home, but most people do not consider this wrong. Even when it comes to humans, many - if not most - people would likely experience negative emotions when they kill out of genuine necessity, such as in self-defense, but very few people will argue that this is morally wrong, that you should just allow yourself to be harmed or killed if someone attacks you.
In this sense, it would be most logically consistent for me to view hunting wild animals in their own territory (as opposed to shit like when rich people transport animals to a personal hunting ground so they're guaranteed not to lose their prey) for food as morally superior to livestock farming, and I very much do. Traditional hunting is the method of killing for food most similar to that of other animals, as far as I understand. That said, I'm not remotely an expert on the topic beyond having hunted before as a kid and having a general understanding of animal behavior at the college level.
However, I will not pretend like I always behave consistently with the moral conclusions I come to. Like I've discussed before, I don't have an emotional response to violating my own morals. I simply didn't come wired with that feature. I don't really feel guilt or shame, so when I do something "bad," whether by my standards or others' standards, I either don't care at all or make a deliberate effort to cognitively "scold" myself, depending on the circumstances. I do consume meat that I have not personally hunted in the wild. While I do not think that livestock farming, especially modern livestock farming, is good in any way (ethically but also environmentally and health wise), because I don't have an emotional reaction to that thought (but do receive dopamine when I eat tasty food), I have so far been unable to convince myself to stop consuming meat.
I have said previously that I am glad that I am the way that I am, and that remains true; I do think my psychopathic traits are overwhelmingly more beneficial than not. This, however, is one example of the ways it actually is a negative to me - I really can't force myself to care about something I don't care about by default, and often have a hard time making conscious decisions that run counter to what produces dopamine. For this same reason, I have repeatedly failed to cut out gluten despite my doctor's insistence that I need to, and despite knowing how much better I feel (no daily migraines!) when I do abstain from it for a while. I tried to go vegan before and found that I latched onto very unhealthy junk food that was vegan by nature, like Oreos, and was eating incredibly badly. It does not help that I don't know how to cook, partly because my genetic disabilities make cooking a difficult endeavor for several reasons.
I am well aware that some people may be upset by this post, and may feel a need to label me a bad person for being this way. This is your prerogative, and I am certainly open to hearing your responses to this post, within reason. If all you want is to "punish" me for this, send me hate anons and insults, feel free, but I'll go ahead and let you know it doesn't do anything to me... not to mention I'm very used to it already as a radfem blogger. If you still want to do so because it makes you feel righteous or something, by all means go ahead, just be aware that it will not elicit a response from me in any way you'd desire, and definitely won't change my thought processes or behaviors. If you want to have an actual conversation, though, I'm more than happy to engage, answer questions, and hear your perspectives.
*I chose this specific example not because anti-choicers think abortion is killing, but because I have seen women be told that their sadness or grief about an abortion (which, btw, does NOT mean she regrets it!) is somehow "pro life" and that she can't talk about how she feels or else the right wing will use it against us. This is also nonsense, and fucked up nonsense at that. The right wing will use whatever they can; I'm in no way disagreeing with that. However, silencing women and girls to serve a narrative is not the answer. The lived experiences of women and girls (or any marginalized persons) cannot ever be devalued or concealed just because the enemy would use them against us. Actually, this is the same response I have given when told I should hide the fact that I didn't regret my mastectomy, or even that I should pretend that I did regret it. My story, my truth, is mine to own and discuss as I choose, whether it could be weaponized by ideological opponents or not. Same is true for all marginalized persons.
** If you are interested in moral philosophy, specifically where morals come from/what people base morals in, this page and the following pages (there's a Next button in the bottom right corner) sum it up pretty well on Page 1, then dive in a good bit more thoroughly with individual pages for each "root cause" of moral systems.
Side note: I will be reblogging this later because it's 6:30am EDT and a lot of my audience is in the USA. I worked hard and spent a lot of time on this, so I'd like it to actually be seen. Not much point trying to educate/inform/raise awareness if nobody sees it lmao
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ebbaskz · 6 months
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step on me | l.mh x reader (a)
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masterlist
pairing : toxic!lee minho x reader (y/n)
content : angst, incredibly toxic minho, delusional reader, horrible established relationship (DO NOT BE LIKE Y/N PLEASE)
word count : 0.9k
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“oh, i think you’re holding the heart of mine
(my heart is yours)
squeeze it apart that’s fine…”
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Lee Minho is your first love.
From the day you fell head over heels for him in high school to now, where you sit sobbing on the floor of your disheveled apartment bathroom, finding homage in the crumpled clothes and towels that are scattered along the cold tile flooring.
The fight was almost a week ago.
You can barely even remember what had sparked the downward spiral into screams and tears, but you do remember Minho mentioning how you “never clean and live like a slob.” Clearly, this statement pushed some buttons in you because he knows damn well that you work your ass off every day to get money to help support both of you while also taking classes for school. Yes, Minho also has a tight schedule, but the expectation that you should be cleaning instead of him shoved you over the edge.
Minho hated when you called him out for his mistakes. This was one of those times considering how he called you an “ignorant bitch” who “doesn’t deserve the time of day” as he grabbed anything he pictured to be of importance, shoving it all into a backpack. At this point, you had already been crying, upset by Minho’s reaction, as if you never expected this to be his response.
This was normal for you two. Minho would bitch about something, you would stand up for yourself, and he would leave. It was a routine at this point.
Minho had gathered his things and left the shared apartment, leaving you alone to sulk and cry for the next week.
The thing about this routine is that Minho always comes back.
Your phone now buzzes from where it is sat up on the bathroom counter. You really should not check it, but the itching hope that it’s him cannot be easily overpowered.
The screen is too bright for this dark bathroom, hurting your eyes for a moment before adjusting and reading the notification.
min min : let me back in, i left my key here before.
You practically scoff at his words, feeling completely defeated by his lack of apologies or even care for your feelings. It’s been a week and this is all he has to say?
You shuffle out of the bathroom, not really understanding why you are even giving him another chance to come back.
The door swings open and you freeze.
He looks…. okay. Not a single flaw is able to be seen in his appearance, leading anyone to think that he had no issues in his life right now. This is in wild contrast to you, who had fallen apart without Minho this last week, with his old t-shirt, boxer shorts, and a raggedy bun that sat atop your head.
You can feel the judgment in his stares as he gives your broken appearance a quick look before pushing by a little harshly to get inside of the apartment, not muttering a single word.
Just like the routine.
You knew what would come next, and some would think that you should know better. That you should know that you deserve better.
But when it comes to Minho, you really don’t know any better
A quick glance at the clock up on the wall shows that the time is 2:15 in the morning, and your body suddenly is craving a deep restful sleep.
You pad your way over into to the bedroom, unsure of where Minho went when he came inside. You come to find that he is in the bathroom that is connected to your bedroom, shower running with the overhead light seeping through the bottom of the door into the poorly-lit bedroom.
You take no time to try and change into new clothes for the night, just barely gathering up enough energy to get under the bed sheets and make yourself comfortable, or at least as comfortable as possible with the insistent pain coming from inside of you.
The shower stops and a few moments later, a freshly-washed Minho steps foot into the room, quickly looking at you before heading to the closet to pick out an easy outfit, showing that he is also heading to bed.
As you watch him rummage through the array of hanging shirts in the closet, you think about all of the pain you have dealt with by being with Minho, with the constant fighting and borderline manipulation from the man you claim to ‘love’.
What even is this ‘love’ anymore?
Does he even see this as ‘love’?
Your thoughts are interrupted by the shift of weight in the bed, redirecting your attention to Minho, who is shuffling around under the covers, leaning over the flip off the dimmed lamp that is next to the bed. Now, the room is in pure darkness and silence, leaving you feeling almost… calm?
Just knowing that he came back has brought you some peace of mind that maybe he does care about you, at least enough to make him stay home.
Minho still has not said a word, but the quick shuffle of him in bed to face your back doesn’t surprise you. You could practically predict what his next move would be.
As if it was clockwork, Minho’s arms come up to wrap around your torso, settling himself in at your backside, as if nothing had ever happened.
You think this may be why you stay. Why you put up with his tantrums.
It’s because it seems like he still cares. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.
Clearly, he still loves you, right?
This man may have battered and broken your heart to the point of no return, but at least he attempts to put a bandaid on it for healing.
It all works out okay though, because it’s the thought that counts…
Right, guys?
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a/n : ok this one was a little rough for me to think of what to write, but this song kills me everytime i listen to it so i had to share it somehow. toxic minho is such a douchebag smh. hope this is enjoyable and you all had a good day! - eb
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bogkeep · 1 year
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HAIZ EXPLAINS AMATONORMATIVITY: REDUX
it's 2014. a teenager rummages through the newspaper at breakfast. they're looking for comic strips, but instead see the headline of the sports pages, proclaiming some famous sports guy is "NOT INTERESTED IN RELATIONSHIPS RIGHT NOW."
"really?" thinks the young haiz, "that's meant to be news? the sports news??"
it's not like they'd ever read the sports pages before, but the scandal in that headline would not leave their brain zeitgeist of the day. it was a metaphorical pebble thrown at them — not the first, but the one that made them go "HEY. STOP THAT???" so they took to the keyboard to yell into the void to hey, stop that.
then the void responded.
what i wrote that day was probably one of the first posts about amatonormativity to make rounds on tumblr. i did not expect it to get thousands of notes, and it's no longer on my blog. even though the majority of the response to it was positive, i wouldn't want to bring it back, because
- it was written in a very 2014 way
- with very 2014 thoughts
- some people were really cruel to me for writing it
- i still can't read it without wincing
but:
i can write a new one.
this is not an argument about who is or isn't oppressed. that is not an argument i'm interested in entertaining, and it's not what this post is about. human life on earth is incredibly diverse and complex and i'm just here to-
OH MY GOD WHAT IS AMATONORMATIVITY ALREADY
okay so amatonormativity is like. the idea that A Lasting, Monogamous & Exclusive Romantic Relationship is the most important type of relationship in the entire world and the thing we should all strive for in our lives. (insert obligatory "the term was coined by professor elizabeth brake in the book minimizing marriage" here.)
it's not exclusively an "omg it's so hard to be aro :(" thing, because it's like, an all-encompassing Narrative foisted upon us that shapes the way we view and talk about relationships, and it does everyone a disservice (as is the case with all Normativities! we want to break 'em ALL down!! for everyone!!!!!!). nor is it intended to make people feel bad for wanting long-lasting monogamous romantic relationships! that's your personal business and i wish you well!
(it IS kind of hard to be aro in a world that constantly argues that you're lacking The Most Important Experience That Makes You Human And Life Worth Living though. not gonna lie.)
- an easy example is how the word Love is, in a Lot of instances, for a Lot of people, basically synonymous with Red Hearts Kissy Kissy Smooch Smooch. like we ALL KNOW love is more than that, we love friends and family and strangers who were nice to us that one time and our pets and our favourite foods and our favourite shows. you kind of have to clarify when you mean Love in any other way than Romantic Love. which is wild, considering how Love is such a vast emotion that covers a lot of ground, and it keeps zeroing in on this specific kind.
- related to that, i have a whole internalised powerpoint presentation about how, if you put all of your relationships with other people in a pie chart, the Romantic Partner slice is likely to be very small compared to the Family slice and Friend slice and Acquaintance slice and all these other connections you have - yet it has, comparatively, a LOT of publicity and framework that some of the other categories find themself lacking. yes, a romantic partner/s is/are someone you're likely to share a lot of time and life with, so it makes some sense for sure - but not everyone has romantic partners, or the same priorities as far as commitment goes.
- the stigmatisation of being single/unpartnered. i get the impression that a lot of people have stayed in unsatisfactory relationships because it sounds better than the Dreadful, Terrible Alternative of Not Being In A Relationship. i think there has been a lot of pushback against this particular mindset in recent years, always flaring up around valentine's day for some reason - but it still feels like it's expected to be a Temporary State, not something you'd choose or prefer.
- romance as a Humanising Component in storytelling. say you've got some sort of non-human character, such as a Robot or a Beast. what is the easiest way for them to gain Personhood in the eyes of the audience? probably by falling in love, because falling in love is the Most Human Thing There Is. i think this also extends to queer stories in a similar way - a queer romance may win over a non-queer audience in a way other queer narratives may not, an "oh they're just like us" moment, if you will. these aren't bad stories to have, and queer romances are important stories to tell! it's just... tinged with a taste of "very well.... if it's TRUE LOVE... i can find it in me to extend some compassion......."
(and! on the flipside! an easy way to dehumanise an antagonist is to be like "AND THEY DIDN'T EVEN FEEL LOVE THEY JUST HAD NO HEART THEY WERE SO INHUMAN ")
(speaking of stories you know when a series ends and they partner up all the remaining single characters in a hurry or in the epilogue because god forbid they dON'T GET PARTNERS)
- you know how the reason for legalizing same-sex marriage wasn't because marriage is THE ULTIMATE EXPRESSION TRUE LOVE, but because it comes with a lot of legal rights such as tax benefits and hospital visitation rights? and uhhhhh isn't it kind of weird that marriage is the One thing that gives u a lot of those rights and it's 1) still presented as The Ultimate Expression Of True Love And The End Goal Of Life rather than a legal contract, and 2) not available to everyone? I THINK IT'S KIND OF WEIRD.
- polyamorous relationships are also stigmatised & there's a lot of work to do when it comes to marriage & parental rights for polyamorous couples. i'm sure one could write an entire list on this topic from a polyam/relationship anarchy angle.
- the stigma against sex In General is rooted in so many things, and i believe that a huge part of breaking down amatonormativity is to destigmatize casual sex, sexual relationships that aren't romantic, sex work + sex worker rights & everything in this category. thinking about sex as a thing you can/should only do with the love of your life after you're married hasn't served us very well, i think.
- the idea that our entire life is building up to The One Important Relationship is garbage. we have a lot of relationships in our lives, many of them temporary, and all of them matter to us in some way. you are not a half looking for another half to complete you - even the most compatible person on the earth is still going to be a human person who is flawed and ever changing.
- ok so there's a thing that happens when people want to prove a gay couple is Actually Dating and not Just Gal Pals and it's like "WOULD FRIENDS EVER DO THIS???" referring to some kind of intimate moment - and it's like, i get what you're trying to prove, but... some friends Would Do That, Actually. there is no act on earth wholly exclusive to romantic relationships. i subscribe to the idea that everyone gets to decide how they define their relationships, and what boundaries they have for each kind. maybe they WILL kiss their homies on the lips. with tongue.
- queerplatonic relationships: not only did we have to create a term for a Kind of committed relationship that isn't a romantic one, but we have to fight the deluge of "but that's just dating!!!!!" and "that's just having a best friend!!!!" - the thing is, it CAN be those things if you choose to, or it can be A Secret Third Thing. the way i see it, a queerplatonic relationship is just a Framework you can apply to a relationship that's like, There, but doesn't seem to fully fit into existing categories. because the human experience is vast and weird! i think it's unfair and kinda normative to reduce it to "dating, but for aros" - an Oddly Intimate Connection That Is Hard To Categorize can befall anyone, and as i presented in my pie chart theory, we don't have a lot of framework to discuss them.
that's all i've got for today. i hope this was enlightening or affirming for some <3
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