#anyways this is very self indulgent LMAO this is just all my aus where they looked visiblly different enough in the portrait area | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miraclewoozi · 3 months

Text

DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome. or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it.

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader. content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT. content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song.

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong.

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.”

He was right.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all.

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say.

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position.

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air.

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done.

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal.

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present.

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you.

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember.

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter.

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again.

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary.

The urge to just… lean in to you.

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees.

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again.

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly.

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop.

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday.

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare.

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once.

He swears.

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure.

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting.

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway.

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t.

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances.

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise.

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that.

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come.

Eight seconds later… still nothing.

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light.

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug.

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again.

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?”

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before.

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip.

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter.

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh.

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair.

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop.

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders.

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help.

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place.

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head.

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in.

I love them. Thank you, you said.

It’s perfect.

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double.

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead.

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue.

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose.

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late.

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to.

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are.

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob.

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum.

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him.

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen.

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door.

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important.

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair.

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath.

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright.

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened.

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head.

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop.

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together.

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said.

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love.

With someone who wasn’t him.

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt. And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before.

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder.

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it.

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush.

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head.

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth.

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you.

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too.

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure.

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together.

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try.

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could.

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down.

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better.

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same.

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved.

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person.

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say.

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here.

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no.

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline.

Not enough, but some.

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin.

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky.

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough.

Happy New Year.

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes.

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you.

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow…

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there.

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you.

You could do it, his brain tells him.

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter?

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside.

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said.

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in.

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule.

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all.

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday.

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you.

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change.

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant.

The pouting continued.

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table.

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right?

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling.

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together.

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features.

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road.

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess,

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks.

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer.

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks.

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick.

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone.

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own.

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block.

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths.

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

One.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too.

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again.

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

#vernon fluff #vernon x reader #vernon chwe fluff #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hansol x reader #hansol fluff #kpop fluff #j writes.#*#so nervous ab posting this. anyway. i wrote this for meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and my deluded ass is gonna go jump in a hole now GOODBYE <3 #vernon fanfic

1K notes · View notes

ohmtoff · 18 days

Text

Shots, shots, shots (Part 1)

Nick Sturniolo x Masc!OC

Summary: Nick is most definitely not having fun at a frat party Madi dragged him to, but this boy who’s staring at him hungrily may help him to have a good time (or: a very cliche and very self-indulgent fic of Nick getting it on with a frat bro)

WC: 4.8k

Contains: college!AU, frat bro!oc, drinking games, making out

Disclaimer: no smut yet, smut is in the next part. not an american, idk anything ab frat culture and the american college system in general, so there’s gna be some inaccuracies. this is just based on the frat fics ive read and my own college experiences.

a/n: was supposed to be a one-shot but i suddenly wrote 10k words💀 although i know nothing ab frat culture, how my american friends describe it is basically like any faculty organization in an indonesian uni lmao so hope my knowledge of how those orgs work help this a slight bit. anyways hope you enjoyyy <333

——————————————————————————-

Nick is most definitely not having fun.

He frowns as he feels the bitter burn of his fifth (or was it sixth?) shot going down, tipping his head back to get it to go down easily, well and truly smashed at this point. Madi would be proud. Speaking of… he hasn’t seen his best friend since they arrived at the party, the girl pestering him for hours earlier in the day to come party with her. Madi is tired of listening about The Breakup, and to be honest, Nick is too, but he didn’t agree to come with Madi only to have his supposedly best friend ditch him at the door, leaving him alone at a frat party where he knows absolutely no one. Especially not just so she can run off and suck face with some junior.

Nick spies his best friend making out with a boy he doesn’t know, back to him through the haze of the crowd, barely visible in the shitty purple LED lighting, especially with everyone packed into the house like sardines, the place filled to over capacity so that no one can move without being pressed up against someone or another. Well, unless they are sticking to the wall like Nick currently is. And he’s about to go give his friend a piece of his goddamn mind when he hears the voice beside him, his irritation still visible on his face as he turns to look.

“Hey.” The boy is staring at him with an intensity that is disarming, dark eyes set in an intense unwavering gaze as he looks, just enough light to make out the half-smile on the other boy’s face, only one corner of his mouth upturned slightly. The boy’s hair is half in his face, looking damp and mussed like he’s just stepped out of the shower. And Nick trails his gaze downwards, appreciating the other boy’s outfit, a black t-shirt with some obscure band logo, sleeves cut-off hastily, clearly homemade, the edges ragged, showing off the nice curves of the boy’s shoulders, the definition of his upper arms from hitting the gym obvious. All thrown over a pair of oversized black jeans.

The other boy is looking at him like he wants him, and Nick is too far gone to stop the delicious pit of arousal churning in his stomach, the euphoria going straight to his head, making him dizzy with desire. He’s not the type Nick usually goes for, in fact, the boy is the exact opposite of his ex, but that doesn’t stop his body from screaming fuck me now. “I haven’t seen you around before. Transfer or something?”

The question makes Nick give out a little snort of laughter. “No, not at all. Just not my scene.”

“Oh?” The boy raises an eyebrow questioningly, his tone clearly teasing as he slides in closer to avoid another boy trying to make his way past the two of them squeezed into the corner. Nick inhales sharply as the boy moves in closer, trapping him, his back pressed up against the wall with no room to go back further, the other boy bringing his arms up to brace against the wall, forming a makeshift barrier around Nick, casually caging him in. As he does, the smell of beer hits his nose, a smell he normally despises, but it’s mixing with something the boy is wearing underneath, something sweet and woody, and the combination is fucking intoxicating. “And what would be your scene then?”

He ignores the question, not wanting to say that maybe his scene is in his room, pitifully stuffing himself with fast food and crying into Madi’s shoulder about his ex months after the breakup, choosing instead to shift the topic, mumbling. “You smell like shitty ass beer.”

“Shit, sorry.” The boy relaxes his arms, his face softening into a sheepish apologetic look that Nick finds almost endearing, backing up a step so that he’s not so deep into Nick’s personal space, and Nick takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartrate. “Got doused with beer earlier when they were spraying it into the crowd.”

“Seems like a waste of alcohol if you ask me.” The unexpected response makes the other boy’s eyes go wide, a moment of silence before he bursts out into raucous laughter.

“Yeah, shit, it probably is.” Nick hates that his breath hitches automatically as the other boy runs his hand through his black hair, shaking his head in apparent exasperation, looking unfortunately all too attractive in the process. “Imagine how many people could be more drunk than they already are if they hadn’t wasted all that beer.” The boy shoots him a grin, which he finds himself returning, or at least he hopes he is.

“So how did you get here?”

“My best friend, Madi. She dragged me here.” Nick admits, a slight eye-roll accompanying the statement. “Otherwise there’s no way I would come to a party in a dump like this. Complete shithole. Floor is disgusting, and the whole place looks like it’s going to collapse in on itself if they throw another couple of parties.” He finds himself having to yell to be heard, the music playing far too loud, the bass turned up so that he can quite literally feel the floorboards vibrating underneath his feet.

To Nick’s surprise and appreciation, the other boy appears to take an interest in listening to him, craning in closer and cocking his head to the side to hear better. His ex was an asshole that wouldn’t bother to make sure he was comfortable at parties, even after knowing Nick didn’t love large crowds, preferring to hang out with small groups of people instead. Plus points. “Oh, I know Madi, met her at a general ed class last semester. She’s also friends with one of the frat bros here, I think. Nate. Anyways, enough about your friend. I haven’t even gotten your name yet.”

“It’s Nick.”

“Nick.” The other boy repeats it, long and drawn out as he rolls the sound around in his mouth, and the thought of the other boy saying his name as encouragement flashes in his head, mentally kicking himself for even thinking about blowing this complete stranger already within ten minutes of meeting. It’s the alcohol talking, definitely the alcohol. He desperately tries to repeat it to himself and believe it as he watches the other boy bite his lower lip in thought. Fuck. Yeah, so maybe it isn’t the alcohol making him want this boy. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t been fucked since The Breakup. Which was 3 months ago. Nick scowls. Fuck Madi for telling him he needs to get laid, and double fuck Madi for being right.

“And yours?”

“Evan. My name’s Evan.” The name sounds familiar, but Nick can’t quite place it, putting aside the feeling for now, instead choosing to concentrate on his plan of perhaps getting laid tonight. Which shouldn’t be hard considering the way Evan is looking at him right now. Like he wants to ravish Nick. With maybe a touch of possessiveness. Nick doesn’t mind the possessiveness, as long as they don’t go overboard. Possessive makes for a good fuck.

He gives in.

I’m here already, might as well have a good time.

He turns on the flirtiest smile he has, his lips curling into a natural irresistible pout as he keeps talking, his hand coming up to brush Evan’s arm, his fingertips lightly grazing the other boy’s bicep. Very obvious, very forward. No one would ever accuse Nick of being subtle, especially when it comes to getting what or who he wants. “Well, Evan, since this does seem to be your scene and not mine, what would you say to being responsible for me having a fun time tonight?” The words have the desired effect, Nick tracing the tightening of the other boy’s jaw with his eyes, pleased at the barely veiled show of restraint.

Nick feels a shiver of anticipation run up his spine as Evan leans forwards, tilting his head downwards as he speaks, the other boy’s hot breath against his earlobe, pressed in so close that Nick can feel the ghost of a touch from Evan’s lips. He isn’t able to prevent the gasp from escaping when he feels the other boy’s tongue, teeth giving him a quick nip. “Well, tonight’s your lucky night, baby. I am at your service. For anything you want.”

The words make Nick bristle, bringing both palms up to push at the other boy’s chest, startling Evan into stepping back off-balanced. “I don’t like being called baby.” He mutters. “Don’t do that.” His ex had called him baby, as an insult, somehow managing to insinuate every time that Nick was too demanding, too high maintenance, turning the word into a mocking reprimand each time. “My ex used to use that.” He pauses a beat. “Not in a good way.”

“Oh, shit.” Evan frowns, his eyebrows drawn together giving almost a menacing look, and Nick feels a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of Evan losing interest. Maybe I came off too strong. “Your ex sounds like an asshole.” He lets out the breath he doesn’t even realize he was holding, a ripple of relief running through him. “And all I meant…” Nick’s breath catches as the other boy slides his hand underneath his chin, tilting it upwards as he speaks. “…is that you look pretty. Delicate. Like someone who deserves to get everything they want.”

Everything they want.

The words make Nick flush, the heat crawling up the base of his neck, stinging his cheeks. I want you. And his first instinct is to throw all caution to the wind and regret his decisions tomorrow morning after the alcohol has worn off, when there isn’t a buzz in his veins making him want to throw himself at this boy. And he desperately wants it to be just a physical thing, after all, he doesn’t really know this guy. He could turn out to be some weirdo psychopath for all he knows, but damn it if it doesn’t make him feel good that this boy thinks he deserves everything. But before he can open his mouth and resign himself to his fate, a hand appears on Evan’s shoulder, accompanied by the loud voice of another boy.

“Hey, bro.” The hand on Evan’s shoulder becomes an arm pulling the taller boy into a half-headlock of sorts. “Not like you to hide away in the corner for so long. Don’t you miss being the life of our party?” The boy turns slightly, catching a glimpse of him, and Nick becomes acutely aware that he’s probably gaping. “Oh, I see now.” The boy gives him a salacious and knowing wink, casting a sidelong glance at Evan. “You must be the reason our leader here is hiding instead of greeting the guests.”

Leader?

The new boy smiles at him, bringing his free hand up in a little wave of acknowledgment. “I’m Nate, by the way.” Nate squints, giving him a careful once-over, and Nick feels like squirming, getting the distinct feeling that he is being sized up though he doesn’t know for what. “You’re Nick, aren’t you?” Nate grins excitedly at the realization. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Madi.”

Nick furrows his brows thinking how does he know Madi and why Madi’s talking about him, getting more lost within the conversation by the second. “Madi said he’d be your type, and it looks like he was right. Fuck.” Nate lets out a string of profanity, “Fuck me, Evan. That means I owe her fifty bucks. So really, fuck you.” Nate narrows his eyes at Evan, who isn’t even trying to hide his mirth, chortling at his friend’s distressed expression. “Unless, you two dickwads set me up.”

Evan shakes his head. “No, man, I didn’t even know who he was until he gave me his name.”

“Fuck.” Nate lets out one last swear in a drawn out sigh, smiling fondly at Evan. “Well, I hate to interrupt the overwhelming sexual tension between you two, but I do think our new president should give a speech at our first party of the year.”

“President?” Nick echoes the word without meaning to, the sound of loud buzzing in his ears drowning out the sound of everything else around them, noting the shit-eating grin on Evan’s face that is getting wider by the minute.

“Yeah, president of Chi Alpha Omega. You know, the ones hosting this party right now.”

Nick can feel the color draining from his face, accompanied by some wooziness in his head. Madi had told him about the president of ΧΑΩ before, about how he “got around” quite frequently, always with someone new every other weekend. And apparently in no short supply of people who want to casually hook-up with him. In short, a player through and through. And Nick can’t tell whether he’s disappointed that Evan is probably not interested in any type of relationship or just excited that the boy is likely a really good fuck. Or both.

But none of that really even matters because he had literally called Evan’s house a shithole.

Fuck.

Evan winks at him before turning to Nate. “Yeah, I can definitely say a few words. And by the way, Nick here thinks we should probably stop spraying beer into the crowd to hype up the party.” He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the overly serious and solemn expression on Evan’s face as he says that. “Apparently we’ve been wasting alcohol when we could be using it to get everyone even more drunk.” Nick wants to sink into the floor at the other boy’s next words, hoping desperately that the ground can swallow him up.

“And he’s also made me aware of the fact that apparently, we live in a shithole.”

Nate’s eyes go wide. Nick wants to kill himself.

“Well, not exactly a lie.” Nate laughs, clearly bemused by his worried expression. “We’ve been trying to get administration to move us out of this shithole for ages. They just won’t do it. So we figure if we throw a few extra ragers this year, and this dumpster fire of a house finally breaks, maybe they’ll consider letting us have a different building for the frat house.”

“Wait, so…” Nick says the words slowly, his head slow to catch up, not quite believing what he’s hearing. “…you all actually want to break this house. Like that’s your actual plan, and I’m not stuck in some weird-ass twilight zone time warp imagining this.”

“Correct.” Evan nods.

“You all are fucking crazy.”

“Correct.”

“Sooo, about that speech Evan?” Nate asks, stealing another glance at Nick. “Any time soon? Or am I assuming that you’re gonna be busy for the next hour or so?”

The implication makes him half-cringe on the inside. Is it that obvious?

“Yeah, of course, now is fine.” And then Nick feels the other boy’s hand around his, Evan’s fingers settling to interlock with his naturally as if they belong there, warm and inviting. A little overly warm, probably the alcohol. But it feels nice, gives him the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest for the first time in a long time. “You’re coming with me, baby.” Nick wants to protest the nickname, but he isn’t given the opportunity to, finding himself being dragged along by the taller boy, weaving through the crowd of people deftly, trying to keep close to the other boy’s back, his free hand reaching out to grab the untucked edge of Evan’s t-shirt. The other boy heads to the kitchen, passing by the crowd that is busy dancing, flirting, and Nick reminds himself to yell at Madi tomorrow, spotting his best friend out of the corner of his eye still attached to the face of a guy.

The kitchen is slightly less crowded, the only people slipping in and out to grab more beer or shots, the entire kitchen counter covered with half empty alcohol—rum, vodka, gin, whiskey. God, how much booze do they have? Evan doesn’t let go of his hand as he opens the fridge, rummaging around before finally coming up with another handle of vodka. The taller boy just shakes his head as Nate gives him a questioning look. And then Nick follows as he is dragged along again, making their way back to the living room, heading straight towards the epicenter of all the noise in the house. Evan finally lets go of his hand, and Nick feels a twinge of concern as he watches the other boy climb up onto the ping pong table, ignoring the cry of protests from the people playing beer pong. No way he’s sober enough for this. Somehow Evan’s voice is louder than the music, his voice floating above the noise.

“Hey, we having fun tonight?” The cheers and hoots rise up from the crowd, Evan clearly reveling in the attention, waving his arms to tell everyone to pump up the noise, and they do. After a minute or so of cheering, the other boy puts his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, quieting the crowd.

“Here’s to the first party of many this year for Chi Alpha Omega. As the president for this year, hope to see all of you underclassmen at rush in the spring.” Evan grins, and Nick hates that the other boy is so charismatic, everyone in the room turning to hang on to his every word. “And to kick off a good night, how about yours truly start off a round of body shots?” The crowd hoots and hollers. “First up, my newest friend, Nick.” He feels himself outright blushing this time, Evan looking downwards to wink at him, some of the people in the front of the crowd turning to stare.

He startles as Evan jumps down from the ping pong table, landing unevenly, grabbing on to his shoulder for balance before scooting back on to the table to take a seat, his legs hanging off the edge. “How about it, baby?”

And he’s about to object, but his mind goes completely blank as Evan crosses his arms over his chest, gripping the hem of his t-shirt in order to pull it up over his head, the other boy’s arm muscles tightening. The skin above Evan’s jeans comes into view first, the white band of the other boy’s Calvin Klein boxers just peeking out from the top, a sharp contrast from the smooth tan of Evan’s skin on top and the black of his jeans on the bottom. Nick can see a glimpse of the other boy’s hip bones, sharp and defined, and his gaze trails further upward to his belly button, abs slightly visible as Evan moves, and all the way up to the other boy’s chest.

But it’s the tattoo that makes Nick stop breathing.

It’s intricate, clearly well done and by a tattoo artist that cares about how the finished product looks, a revolver with its barrel pointing downwards, the tip disappearing under the white of the other boy’s boxers. And Nick doesn’t think he’s ever had a specific thing for guns. But fuck. Because he wants to think that he’s better than this, better than having the only thought running through his head being it’s pointing to his cock. And the overwhelming urge to find out just exactly how true it is.

“You’re up, baby.” The words make Nick snap his glance upwards, tearing his gaze away from the ink on the other boy’s skin, the embarrassment flitting through him as he realizes how long he had been staring, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Evan, who is grinning at him, definitely amused. He’s already poured the shot, messily spilling at least two shot’s worth of vodka on the ping pong table, and Nick experiences a stroke of utter insanity, the words coming out before he can stop them.

“You should probably clean that up.”

“Hmm, maybe later.”

“It’s going to get sticky.”

“Maybe I like sticky.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that the whole scene is probably bizarre as fuck, talking about cleaning while the whole room is waiting for him to take a shot off a boy he doesn’t even know. But Nick feels as if he’s in a haze, entirely blocking out the rest of the room as Evan crooks a finger at him, motioning for him to get closer, the other boy’s legs parting on the table, stretching apart to give him room to fit in between, and Nick is uncomfortably aware of Evan’s jeans, the material stretching over the other’s boy’s thighs, even tighter now that Evan is sitting.

“Come.”

He comes.

The shiver of arousal runs through him as he gets closer, coming up to the edge of the table, Evan winking at him as he squeezes Nick’s sides slightly with his thighs, making the feeling curl deliciously in his groin. And the other boy lies down slowly, not breaking eye contact with Nick as he does, and god help him, because it only makes the outline of the other boy’s abs deepen. Fuck. The shot glass is placed right over Evan’s belly button, wobbling as the other boy breathes in and out, and Nick winces as Evan starts off a chant of encouragement.

“Drink, drink, drink.”

Fuck it, it’s just one shot.

He doesn’t try to overthink it, leaning down with his head to clumsily grasp the shot glass with his mouth, intending on throwing his head back and downing the vodka all at once. He tells himself it doesn’t mean anything as he braces his palms against the other boy’s thighs, enjoying the feeling of muscle underneath his hands. But he’s not used to the motion, not able to use his hands, and he ends up spilling half of it, feeling Evan’s thighs tense around his waist as the cold liquid hits the other boy’s bare skin, some of the vodka settling into the crevices of Evan’s abs, already starting to slide off his body.

Nick doesn’t know why he does it.

But the next instant, his tongue is on Evan’s skin, feeling the other boy tense as he does it, licking the rest of the vodka off of the other boy, the feeling of burning still in the back of his throat from the half he does drink, dipping his tongue in to run along the grooves of Evan’s abs, the slight saltiness of the other boy’s sweat mixing with the taste of alcohol. And he’s pressing half-kisses, half sloppy licks against the other boy’s skin, the tips of his fingers reaching upwards from where they’re resting against Evan’s thighs to brush against the boy’s sharp hipbones, an inch or so above his jeans.

As he dips his tongue into his belly button, Evan bucks his hips upwards, the wanting movement making the arousal go straight to his cock. And he tells himself it’s because he’s trying to clean every last bit of vodka off of Evan’s body, but it isn’t the alcohol giving him a high as he runs the tip of his tongue slowly down the barrel of the gun tattoo that Evan has, the thought of going further and further down until he reaches the other boy’s cock making him hot and dizzy. The thought of Evan holding his head down and tugging on his hair as he gives the other boy a blowjob. Further, further. Evan squirms as he licks his way downwards over the exposed skin, and Nick wonders if it tickles, his nose already nudging the edge of the other boy’s boxers.

A bad fucking idea.

And he’s just about to pull away, the feeling of regret mixed with horror hitting him as he surfaces from his reckless decision, half-aware that they’re still in a very public room for the first time since Evan had told him Come, when he feels it. Evan half-hard against his palm, his hand accidentally brushing too close to the other boy’s inner thighs as he tries to move back, and before he can process that fact, everything around him moves.

Nick yelps as he feels Evan’s hands on the back of his thighs, dangerously close to his ass, and he’s suddenly being lifted up into the air, his legs coming up to wrap themselves around the other boy’s waist, his hands grabbing at Evan’s shoulders to balance himself. He vaguely hears the sound of catcalls coming from the crowd, his head falling forward, his face buried into the crook of the other boy’s neck, the smell of beer in Evan’s hair and that smell of wood and vanilla. A few quick strides, and Nick finds his back up against the wall for the second time tonight, Evan’s hips pressed into him, grinding him up against the wall as he plants kisses against Nick’s neck.

The other boy is definitely completely hard now, the feeling against his thigh each time Evan moves his hips making the arousal tighten in Nick’s groin. And it’s a fleeting thought, that he is grateful for wearing a white tank top, giving Evan free access, the other boy’s tongue darting out to run itself along the top of Nick’s collarbones, sucking likely-to-be-hickeys into his skin hungrily.

His fingers curl themselves into the other boy’s hair for purchase, needing something to grab onto as he writhes in Evan’s embrace, his eyes closed, his breath coming out ragged. An unbidden moan comes forth as he feels Evan sneak his hands underneath his tank top, the other boy’s fingers splayed against the skin at his waist, his thumbs digging into the spot just above his hipbones. Evan’s hands feel hot against his skin, burning into him more than he thought possible, and Nick’s eyes flutter open only to remember that everyone is still there, that they’re not alone.

“W-wait,” The words come out weakly in between little pants and far too soft for Evan to hear anyway, and Nick wonders if the idea of the other boy fucking him against the wall in front of a crowd of people should turn him on as much as it does. Fuck.

“Get a fucking room!”

The loud jeer seems to snap Evan out of it, the other boy stopping his attack against Nick’s neck long enough for him to catch his breath. Most of the room has gone back to whatever they were doing before, and it’s nearly impossible to pick out whoever had yelled it. “Don’t mind if I do.” Evan grins at him, not waiting for a proper response. “Hold on.” Nick just manages to get his arms around Evan’s shoulders before the other boy starts moving, hoisting him up slightly to get a better grip on the underside of his thighs, Evan’s chin nestled into his shoulder, the other boy’s breathing hot on his neck.

The sounds of the party slowly start to fade away as they ascend the stairs to the second floor, the stairway narrow and not lit, and Nick winces as he is jostled against the wall a few times on their way up, Evan’s steps not as steady he would have hoped. All he can hear now is the other boy’s breathing, slow and deep, the sound comforting, and Nick breathes in and out to match the other boy’s. I wonder if Madi was right, and I’m his type. And he’s sure that he’s Evan’s type physically, the whole display downstairs has convinced him of that, but for the first (okay, maybe second or third) time tonight, he has the niggling suspicion that he might like it if he is Evan’s type for more, the way the other boy puts him at ease so naturally and effortlessly perhaps giving him more butterflies than he’d care to admit.

His mind unwillingly flashes him scenes on what it would be like dating Evan. Would he like his eggs scrambled or poached? What shows would they binge together? Would Evan show him off to his frat brothers?

Evan licks a stripe behind his ear where he’s most sensitive. Ah, fuck it. Who cares about dating? Nick knows he’s going to get fucked till he forgets his own name tonight.

tags: @thenickgirl @mybelovednick @sukiipjs

#nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo x oc #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #nick sturniolo fanfiction

111 notes · View notes

hoardlikegoldenirises · 10 months

Text

more self-indulgence!!

one part headcanons one part this is just how they are in my AU probably—uh... watching a parade? idk actually. i just. drew them.

because... i felt like it.... there are still missing characters because spider-man has five million supporting characters which is truly both a blessing and a curse (also like, i didn't include any foes or villains lmao but rest assured at least two of peter's rogues are queer...)

i decided this is like 2019 or something for?? no real reason other than i guess a lot of the adults finally being out or whatever... idk... that would make peter and his friends around 30-32 on average (well no felicia would be like 34) so still youngish but also definitely Adults™...

the kids are meant to be late teens early 20s but drawing that very specific age group is like, way difficult... also all the youths are short compared to peter's friend group of exclusively 5'9" to 6' people XD (well gwen and harry are shorter so i guess it's fine XD)

some of these are more firm than others. like. should randy be straight? i dunno. is aunt may straight or are all the alive parkers bisexual lmao? idk. what about literally all of the teenagers except andi? i have no clue and a lot of the stuff with them is waaaay later and I am not anywhere close to, so i just put them all in rainbows cause why not! but i do think janine is a token heterosexual in this instance lmao—see, not ALL of my AU versions of characters are queer, just most of them

also i'm going to put a few close-ups/crops below the cut just because it's hard to see them in the lineup without zooming in or w/e

obviously felicia and peter are bisexual and flash is... probably also bi? but i'm really still not sure... but she is trans :) and they're probably poly together but even after writing man-spider i'm genuinely... not actually sure if felicia is peter and flash's girlfriend or not 😂 they've got SOMETHING going on with the three of them but what it is, idk... i think peter is definitely polyamorous regardless, it's just a question of whether their relationship is or not.

red and blue hearts on peter's cheek technically poly but double as spider-man LMAO—plus earplugs cause pride is loud…

obviously felicia's also into leather and bdsm and stuff (and so is peter...) so i included some little hints of that... but didn't bother including any of the kink flags cause there's only so much i can fit tbh a collar works well enough.

i made his tie teal satin because of the teal ribbon for sexual assault awareness. but just a hint, cause i don't think he would be comfortable being public about that. he's out and proud as a bi jewish dude with a trans wife but he's really not out about being a survivor to anyone except a few very close and trusted friends/family. similar for kaine. so a teal necktie is just something for him. he's been through a lot in his life but he's happy 🙂

anyway i think i made flash's hair shorter than it's supposed to be here but it's fine, maybe she got a trim or something

supportive aunts!! i already established like 3 years ago or something in some offhand line that MJ's aunt is an Eccentric Lesbian (huh wonder where she got that from—) so i'm sticking with the lesbian spinster aunt there. I don't know about Aunt May though. I always kind of waffled there on whether she's like straight, or bi... cause I like the thought of old ladies in love. I think maybe they have some kind of queerplatonic thing going on or something... either way she is proud of her boy :>

MJ I never know so I just go with the umbrella—she's Queer. What kind? Gender? Sexuality? Yes, (relatable)

What matters is that she is always Glamorous.

i don't have any deep reason for making Glory bi, i just thought it would be fun, and also cause I like Glory/MJ... they are so fun... they compliment each other so much... I know that can be a just straight gal pals thing but listen, i like it

Gwen is the lesbian who's a teeny tiny bit bisexual but mostly into women. Also: not dead. lmao.

Harry is 100% gay (and divorced) but I still don't know when/if he ever comes out. Liz will def be out as a lesbian by the late 20-teens though cause I think she starts exploring her sexuality w/in 3-4 years after she and harry get divorced... also cause i thought it would be funny if liz and lily (who i did not draw) hooked up LOL

i didn't draw the babies because i ran out of steam for that but they would be... what... i think normie might actually be in like 5th grade or something at this point now that i think about it... stanley would be like... 5 though

Hobie is bisexual almost entirely because when I read the newspaper strip and the prowler showed up, he and Peter were giving me Flirtation Vibes so he is bi, and also punk because I enjoy the aesthetic Spider-Punk has going on, so even though that's not going to be a thing in this universe, I still like to make some little nods to it. also it just feels like a fun combo. he's a kind of alt guy, he's not very straight, he's not very normal, he's had issues in his life trying to figure out who he wants to be... it feels like it just fits well... i like it

he gets MORE punk AFTER college and shaves half his head etc. (instead of having his twist-out), which is funny to me but you know, it takes time to figure shit out sometimes... i didn't draw his girlfriend Mindy (wife? idk if/when they get married in this AU...) cause like i said, omg, so many people to draw... also idk if she's like, straight or what. probably? there's gotta be SOME straight people XD how does she feel about hobie's fro-hawk...? hmm

ah, cain and abel ben (and janine)

Ben is bisexual... like Peter. They both prefer women to some extent, but they have slightly different tastes (...well maybe not SO different) and Ben is more uh, subby? LOL—at least with Janine. Switchy. Unlike Peter, Ben has/had? a crush on Robbie LMAO but that's more of a like, mentor/mentee admiration kind of thing... not like a "i wanna make out with you" situation. Robbie is far too old for him. and also happily married.

In my notes I have that Ben was ofc also abused by Warren but a lot of his was medical and psychological (some physical as well), but... i would think there is an undercurrent of medical sexual abuse there nonetheless esp as much of this w/ warren hinges on sexual power dynamics and control, but i won't get into that here as it's partly still being developed and I don't want to get TOO heavy on this post lol

Kaine is, like I mentioned, a little complex and i'm not 100% sure about (also aracely painted his nails) I think that he's ~bi/pan in general? but maybe not? could be only into men? or not into anyone at all. but the thing about Kaine in this universe is that he's got a difficult relationship with sex and sexuality because of what he was put through by Warren, so while I don't necessarily think he's asexual I do think in this universe he's a little bit sex-averse or sex-repulsed and has a difficult time dealing with that stuff. He also just really desperately wants to be loved and he doesn't care who as long as it's someone, which is toxic in a lot of ways i think... being around Aracely would imo help him a lot in coming to terms with having like, normal, platonic, non-sexual, non-romantic, healthy (or at least healthier) interpersonal relationships, and understanding things like that... idk where he's at by 2019 though, mental health-wise... but yeah i wasn't really sure what colors or patterns to put on his clothes so i went with the dark purple and gray tones since they are the kind of common recurring colors on a lot of ace-spec flags including repulsion and related stuff.

as a sidenote as someone who has a kind of aro and ??? relationship w/ my own bisexuality etc. (idk if i consider myself ace necessarily but it's not totally irrelevant) i also don't want to like, Just Make Him Ace because trauma (but obv betty is aro at least) cause it's not that simple etc etc etc but also there absolutely are people who consider themselves asexual from trauma or for whom it's informed by trauma (though trauma would inform any aspect of interpersonal relationships, of course, and for kaine it does)... idk idk kaine is always like, much to think about for me. He's def not like... "normal" in the eyes of cishet patriarchal culturally christian society. I mean he's disabled for one thing,

ofc peter has many similar traumas esp after meeting kaine and HE'S def not asexual (though peter is also disabled)

idk idk i am always thinking about it and never quite sure. kaine has a very complex and largely negative relationship with his body.

i was also considering genetic mosaicism (46,XY/47,XXY) but i did not include any intersex colors etc. because a lot of this wasn't fully hammered out yet when i drew this. I think Kaine is probably intersex though. It's not necessarily obvious to anyone who looks at him, but it's also not something that comes as a huge surprise to him.

obvs the tiny hint of a teal ribbon is the same as for Peter, sexual assault/abuse awareness, and it's small and easily hidden. probably was given to him by someone trying to be supportive (ben and janine maybe? idk)—i mean ALL of it is from other people really. the sticker on the noise cancelling headphones? def from Aracely or someone else. his presence in the first place? dragged out of the house by a 19 year old girl. he didn't even have time to do his hair and he would rather be drinking coffee in a dark room alone :/

Anyway, Janine. Less complicated.

I decided at some point Janine is straight (but not narrow, as they say) so she gets an ally shirt lol. Like Peter and Kaine, I put her in some teal including a little ribbon bow on some satin ballet flats—obviously her history as a sexual abuse survivor etc. is very, very public in contrast to peter and kaine (and arguably ben, though i don't think he necessarily conceptualizes his abuse by warren in the same way, in part because it was very medicalized) but... it's not like she would want to draw a lot of attention to that. but i also do just like teal so i think it looks nice.

like those are just genuinely cute shoes 😂 but also it's to tie it all together.

the kids, the teens, the youths,

i really don't... feel like i know enough about them to figure out sexualities or if any genders are involved, and I'm a million years away from including them in any fics so a lot of that stuff simply has not been built out right now cause finer details aren't relevant to me yet (like. i'm in 2007 rn? miles is like... 8. lmao), so I just put them in some fun rainbow-y stuff. teens like going to pride and wearing rainbows right??? i mean i did.

i'm SURE miles and ganke have got something going on i just don't know What Exactly. nerdy friends...? nerdy boyfriends?? something else??? miles is wearing a tracksuit to hide his spider-man costume lol.

aracely is an enigma, i don't think anyone knows what's going on with her tbh. she is there to have candy thrown at her. she seems to like boys at least a little though.

i actually do know what's up with Andi cause she's actually supposed to first appear in 200...8? when she's like. 10. she is trans, and she is also why Flash was able to accept herself more and also why Flash transitioned. Flash wanted to be a good role model to help Andi feel good about herself and to not make her feel like there was something wrong with her, and then later re: transitioning, Flash saw how happy Andi was and wanted to also... be happy like that even though she was scared. and Andi herself really was (will be, idk i never know what tense to use for this stuff) helped a lot by Flash trying to self-improve, by having a supportive babysitter, and a dad who loves her, and so on and so forth... makes a big difference!

Andi and Flash are kind of intentional contrasts here in that, where Flash took until her late 20s to really fully be able to accept herself, Andi is the kid who goes on puberty blockers in high school and knew right away she wasn't what everyone said she was. (Flash had like, hints of that, but really didn't even realize until around ~19 years old and wasn't able to act on it for like... 9 years whereas Andi just really got motoring lol)

also Andi is a lesbian 💖

As far as Betty! I wasn't sure about her at first but I was chatting with Kita and I was like, thinking about her relationships and stuff and thinking, you know, she seems kinda aro... and then i was like... I can just do that. If I want. So I did. so now Betty is aromantic (at least, in my little alternate universe) and ALSO bisexual 😂 Peter's social circle is just a bunch of quirky bisexuals. bi4bi4bi

also dolled the fuck up. Betty said "overdressed? i don't know her. a pearl necklace goes with everything." (...😜)

I also am not sure about Randy (he also just has not come up yet i guess...) but I was thinking, you know, IDK, maybe he's straight as well. two whole straight people. i know he's dated a couple of girls in 616 (...i mean... so have most of the male characters lol) including like, Norah... but I'm not 100% sure what I would do there. I did end up making him a little bit of a hipster 😂 he's probably like... heteroflexible or smth... 🤔

Maybe Randy is ALSO bisexual??? or queer of some flavor.............. at least seems to KNOW about community stuff

idek what the hell is going on with these four but Robbie and JJJ sure do run a bisexual-ass newspaper (...well now that i think about it peter doesn't technically work for them anymore by 2019 but i'm sure he drops the occasional photo) (still a lot of bisexuals)

jk jk there are plenty of other employees of presumably various sexualities including straight ones AND gay ones (probably?) but like, betty, glory, ben and peter are all bi here which struck me as amusing. Two 60-something year old men supportive by way of having a bunch of homos working at their newspaper. Also because it's funny to me to have Jameson be actually very chill about The Queers. something something "you don't tell me what to do in my private life, and i don't tell you what to do in yours!"

anyway that's it. have a gay day 🌈

142 notes · View notes

zhongrin · 2 years

Text

◇ tags ◇ purely self-indulgent, "me" / "i" used instead of "you" (very different than my usual format), not "x reader", selfship (zhongli), long post

◇ a/n ◇ this is a submission for the selfship collab hosted by @suyacho and @albedxs! when i tell you purely self-indulgent, i really mean it. be respectful and dni if you're not into selfshipping!

ps. fellow selfshippers, feel free to take this format and make your own if you want ❤️

pps. this was so much fun to write yall lsdklfjsdlf

❦ 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 ❦

mutual pining (our friends are facepalming at our obvious adoration to each other and are praying to rex lapis lmao to hitch us up already jokes on them now we can’t shut up about each other)

enthusiastic protective simp gf x calm bf

“i-will-kill-you-if-you-hurt-him” (actually can't, at most will just nibble you) gf x “murder-is-bad-dear” (but can actually kill you) bf

the married couple who will forever act like a newlywed couple

❦ 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 ❦

★ say you won’t let go | james arthur

I'm so in love with you / And I hope you know Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold We've come so far, my dear / Look how we've grown And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old Just say you won't let go / Just say you won't let go

tenerife sea | ed sheeran

Should this be the last thing I see / I want you to know it's enough for me 'Cause all that you are is all that I'll ever need I'm so in love So in love / So in love / So in love, love, love, love / So in love

shinpakusuu #0822 | cover: soraru

[EN Translation] You know, every minute / My heart shouts "I'm living" 70 times But when I'm with you, it's in just a little hurry / And shouts "I love you" 110 times As long as my heart is still beating, I want to protect you / That's enough of a reason for me to live As we bring our feelings together, over and over again / We will understand each other a little more

baik baik sayang | wali

[EN Translation] I ask only one thing / For you, for your life Be well, my love / I'm here for you I ask only one thing / In your days and nights Be well, my love / Because I'm here for you

★ 月亮代表我的心 | teresa teng

[EN Translation] You ask how deeply I love you / And just how great my love is Consider this / And look above The moon represents my heart

★ (reincarnation!au) a thousand years | christina perri

And all along I believed I would find you Time has brought your heart to me I have loved you for a thousand years / I'll love you for a thousand more

★ (yandere!au) blood sweat & tears | bts

[EN Translation] It doesn't matter if it hurts / Tie me up so I can't escape Hold me tight and shake me up / So that I can't come to my senses Kiss me on the lips / A secret just between the two of us / Deeply poisoned by the jail of you I cannot worship anyone but you and I knew / The grail was poisoned but I drank it anyway

golden hour | JVKE (ty hoshi ily sjdlfjsldf)

For the love of my life / She's got glow on her face / A glorious look in her eyes / My angel of light

❦ 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 ❦

mei → zhongli ⟐ ★ xiànɡ ɡonɡ / hubby, ★ lónglí (mashing character for dragon + last character of his name), li, 'yang, darling, dear, ★ love

zhongli → mei ⟐ ★ lǎo pó / wife, tiánxīn, nik, meimei (a common nickname for a girlfriend but also a play on my name), ★ darling, ★ dear, ★ love

❦ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ❦

┗━━┫⦀⦙ 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘶 ━━━━

we love taking long walks along the plains / shores of liyue + talking over tea (or sometimes coffee for me)

i buy rex lapis merchandise just to spite him (he is secretly embarrassed but endeared)

i can't cook to save my life so i refrain from stepping in the kitchen unless zhongli is cooking (it's not that i burn down the kitchen or anything but everything i make just tastes…. bad ;;)

i collect lots of accessories and jewelry. they go missing sometimes, and i just know to go to zhongli for it because it's probably his dragon-hoarding instinct flaring up again (he has a special drawer where he keeps his little stash, it's adorable)

zhongli is big spoon 95% of the time, but on the rare 5% where i get to coddle him i will suddenly have no work and urgent responsibilities. no regrets 🤞🏻

when he has a day off but i don’t, i go to work with him in his littol dragon form wrapped around my neck. makes a very warm scarf if i do say so myself.

”is that a dragon-” “it’s a scarf.” “it’s yawning.” “it’s a scarf :)”

zhongli is always, always there whenever i have to take off my glasses for some reason, because he knows i’m blind as a bat without them. the first time this happened, i was waving my hand around trying to make sure i don’t bump to any glass panels and stuff - he completely misunderstood and thought i wanted to hold hands, so he gently linked our fingers together. and we just. stared at each other.

“i-uh-i just-i can’t see very well right now.” “…. ah.” “BUT IT'S NOT LIKE WE CAN’T HOLD HANDS OR ANYTHING!!! i mean. you can be my eyes and guide me… if you want to…” “of course, darling. i don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

tldr; since then, whenever i’m missing my glasses he would automatically guide my hand to grab onto his arm.

whenever we eat, if i forget to bring my hairclips/scrunchies, zhongli lends me his hairclip. this is a secret but i purposefully forget them sometimes because the sight of this man with his hair down? and the way he elegantly eats despite the inconvenience? it’s a sight to behold.

“mei? is something wrong with your food? you haven’t touched it for a while now.” “h-huh. wha? oh. r-right.”

at first, i was constantly hissing and snarling at childe for threatening the very thing zhongli treasures most… but after what has been said and done, we slowly began to get along, and now zhongli has to deal with the headache of a fatui harbinger enabling me and my chaotic tendencies. welp.

“dear, why are there bags of catnips on our doorstep? they seem to have been sent by…. the northland bank?” “oh, don’t you mind that! aaaanyway, mind transforming into your dragon form? i want to test something~”

on the rare occasion when zhongli isn’t home and i’m too sleepy to wait for him, i would take out the humongous rex lapis dragon plushie from the closet to cuddle and surround myself with the smaller version of them so i can fall asleep. but they always mysteriously return back to the closet when morning rolls around, and i find myself cuddling the real rex lapis himself. hmm. how curious 🤔

zhongli always scolds me for being too lazy to make the bed in the morning.

“tapi 'yang…. it’s just going to get messy again at night!” “my love, do you not fold your laundries after they’re dry?” “… that’s different.” “it is not. come now, i will help you.”

on the other hand, i always nag him for buying too many tea leaves. his collection is starting to flood into my coffee cabinet and it is driving me nuts.

he gives me forehead and hand kisses, i give him jaw (if he refuses to lean down) and nose (when i catch him leaning down) kisses. it’s a fair exchange!

he might be the dragon but i’m the one getting more head pats, chin scratches, and back scratches on average (he jokingly asks me from time to time if i’m secretly a dog and i always answer him with an uncanny bark that could pass for a real dog).

doing haircare for zhongli is a normal evening routine for me. i’m clumsy with my hands but he will keep the braid until morning comes (where it inevitably loosens - and he always looks a little sad about it), no matter how messy it looks. in exchange, he helps me with drying my thick mane of a hair because he knows my arms would always get sore if i try to dry them by myself.

zhongli knows about my terrible social anxiety when it comes to strangers, so he takes the lead in almost every social interaction involving those i’m not close with. but when it comes to people i’m comfortable with? he just sits back and watches as i gush and zoom around like an overexcited pomeranian.

man knows his voice turns me into a puddle and will resort to using it to get me to stop procrastinating. it works a little too well.

┗━━┫⦀⦙ 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘶 ━━━━

zhongli will always come for me to help with any technology he’s having trouble with. 98% of the time i will help him but there are just some times when i just. don’t.

“meimei, could you help, childe keeps telling me to install this application called tik tok-” “no.”

since i work from home and my schedule is pretty lax, i do most of the chores and would visit his office from time to time, bringing lunches and snacks and coffee. the security guards and receptionists are my best friends at this point.

candlelit dinners are a must at least once a week. zhongli gets two glasses of wine (since it’s most probably a course meal set) while i order something lame like a virgin mojito - either way, he always always makes sure i don’t have to drink alcohol because 1) he knows i loathe the taste of it, and 2) he doesn’t want the date to end early because i fell asleep onto my food (happened once at the beginning of our relationship, never again)

he has absolutely zero ideas about video games and coding but will always listen to me fangirling about the latest installment of the series or the little side project i’m working on. additionally, i have zero ideas about stonks and business managements but i will always listen whenever he muses and brainstorms about it out loud over his morning/evening tea.

zhongli took a video of me talking to my "duck" (which is a hedgehog) one time while i was working and could not understand why i got so embarrassed and angry.

“but you save videos of me attending conferences and seminars. is it not unfair of you to deny me the sight of my wife hard at work?” “you look immaculate in full decked-suit or semi-formal wear in all those videos! look at me! i look like a cat who’s just returned from outside and got drenched in a downpour!!” “a very adorable kitten nonetheless.” “don't try to sweet talk your way out of this!!” “is it working?” “.............. yes.” “:)” “you've been hanging out with that blue-haired ceo friend of yours too much-”

he indulges in my hyperfixations a little too much.

“you’re interested in experimenting with your makeup? i see. of course you can buy all the eyeshadow palettes you want, tiánxīn.” “you said you were interested in this company’s tea leaves, yes? i ordered a few more boxes for you to try.” “wife, remember how you said you wanted to cook more? i took the liberty to replace our cookware with a new set; i heard they’re better than what we have and they certainly look easy in the eyes, don’t you think?”

he’s the favorite grandson-in-law candidate on the block. all the elderly are smitten by him and treat him like their own grandson. probably tried to introduce their granddaughters to him too. the way he kindly smiles as he shows his wedding ring to decline them will forever make me cry i don’t deserve this man

❦ 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ❦

𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴

“xiànɡ ɡonɡ.” “yes?” “come watch the rain with me?” “a wonderful suggestion. give me a moment and i’ll fetch us some osmanthus tea.” “don’t take too long now!”

𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳

“this is easy. mei’s teasing becomes a lot more frequent whenever she feels lonely.” “who, me, lonely? psh, ridiculous.” “and when she’s truly embarrassed, she always tries to distance herself from the situation with cold words.” “>:|”

“lonely lónglí - hehe that sounds so cute - is adorable. like a little puppy, he hovers and sticks around me until i pay attention to him, and sulks if i don’t coddle him. hm? how does he sulk? you see, he gets a little petty in the subtlest ways - if i greet him, instead of greeting back and asking whether i needed something, he’ll just hum and nod. or if-” “ahem. lǎo pó, i think that’s enough.”

𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

“drop dead gorgeous. way out of my league.”

“timid and reserved. very guarded. i did not think she enjoyed my presence at all.” “are you kidding me? you had me in a chokehold the very moment you started speaking???” “… tiánxīn, please take no offense to this, but you looked like you wanted to murder me in cold blood.”

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴/𝘰?

“his face and his voice. hmm, his personality? why’s that important?” “….. dear, i think people might not understand that you’re joking.” “ehe~!”

“everything about her is endearing. she is a wonderful companion and partner.” “li, you’re making me look bad.” “her mischievous side is, of course, very amusing to watch too.” “h-hey!!!”

𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 (𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨) 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳

“i would destroy the world for you.” “… but you said i was your world the other day.” “ZHONGLI I WAS TRYING TO BE ROMANTIC-”

“thank you for coming into my life.” “…. no, thank you. for everything.”

❦ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 ❦

@abyssmal-skies ◆ psy and al haitham ◆ 𝒎𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ lovesique | zwei

[EN Translation] Ever ever after / Actually I'd been expecting this meeting for so long Never ever before / Just a little more... / I wanna be embraced by those arms of yours. Hey, like this / Please gimme your sweet kiss Softly whispering / Please gimme your tight hug I want to look at the eyes I gaze at forever, always Please just be mine, baby / Going round and round, love addiction

this couple lives in the same building as us, and we constantly interact with each other. psy discusses complicated ceo things with zhongli while i exchange household chores tips with al haitham. the men try to not let their wives interact too much because 99% of the time either 1) chaos ensues, or 2) we both brag and shamelessly simp over the two men out loud and it’s just plain embarrassing (to them).

shopping trip double dates are a common reoccurrence. what kind of things do we usually go shopping for? oh, you know. just the usual. groceries, other essentials, clothes, furniture…

@seelestia ◆ lia and ayato ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ better together | jack johnson

Love is the answer, at least for most of the questions in my heart Like why are we here? And where do we go? / And how come it's so hard? It's not always easy and / Sometimes life can be deceiving I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together

invites us to inazuma regularly after the sakoku decree is lifted and is the only reason why we rented a flat with one extra bedroom in liyue - just in case they want to visit.

”we can always pay for their accommodation when they visit. it’s just not cost-efficient, love-” “N O”

most of the time when we hang out it’s just two girls (+hu tao sometimes) being chaotic while their respective partners stand by the sidelines contentedly, making sure we don’t get in too much trouble.

”oh dear, is that a grey hair, mr. zhongli?” “a what now-” “my apologies, it seems like the sun was playing tricks on me :)” “.... i see. a result of a self projection from your own worry, perhaps? do take care, your job must be very stressful indeed.” “……….. thank you for your concern.” *both sips tea elegantly*

@the-travelling-witch ◆ holly and childe ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ i’m yours | jason mraz

So I won't hesitate no more, no more It cannot wait, I'm sure There's no need to complicate, our time is short This is our fate, I'm yours

zhongli and i find entertainment (+ concern in zhongli’s case, for the unfortunate souls that catch their eyes) in watching this couple in their natural habitat. i find holly’s witch shenanigans wondrous although sometimes she scares me and will go to her whenever i need her specially brewed potions. also childe is basically zhongli’s wallet so does that mean they’re our sugar daddy and sugar mommy???

“hypothetically speaking, can you magic a tea cabinet so it will be practically endless?” “of course! it would cost... say... two million mora :3” “🥺 e-even for me...? 🥺😢” “..... alright, alright, i suppose i can do it for free~” “yay!” “i can't guarantee any side-effects though. like opening a portal to another dimension and such...” “wait what”

before being in a relationship with zhongli, i was a regular patron of holly’s shop and i kept pestering her for a love potion.

“please ma’am just one bottle ;w;” “i’m telling you right now - you don’t need it, just go and confess already >:|” *cue holly making a frustrated sound as she sends me away for the 50th time that month*

@clovcly ◆ milo and al haitham ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ everything you do | m2m

That everything you do / Everything that you do Makes me wanna go / Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Everything you say / Everything that you say Makes me wanna go / Ooh-ooh, ah-ah

“proud grandparents watching over a young couple bumbling about and being so in love“ dynamics.

“i hate him so much.” “milo you literally said you love him like, thirty seconds ago-” meanwhile, zhongli and al haitham, sitting on the side (pretending) to read their books: 👀

please stop fighting and making out in our bathroom thank you.

“do you think he loves me? do you think i annoy him??” “i saw al haitham smile when you cuddled him the day before and i saw him nuzzling your shoulder while you were asleep on his lap last week, literally what the fuck are you talking about-”

@ainescribe ◆ aine and zhongli ◆ 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒍 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ kiss me, kiss me | sarah geronimo

A kiss me, kiss me in the morning / Kiss me, kiss me in the night Kiss me, kiss me in the day time / Kiss me, kiss me all the time

spiderman meme ensues.

the two zhonglis conversing with each other over tea, talking about the wonder and inner workings of parallel universes and realizing they have a type: devoted simp who is lawfully chaotic. meanwhile, me and aine are chilling and gushing about what we love about our respective zhongli.

aine tells me sad mythological gods' stories and it always ends with me bursting into tears. cue my zhongli swooping in to try and calm me down and aine giving me a wink and a thumbs up - all according to plan.

@silentmoths ◆ moth and zhongli ◆ 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒍 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ starving | hailee steinfeld, grey, zedd

I didn't know that I was starving till I tasted you Don't need no butterflies when you give me the whole damn zoo By the way, right away, you do things to my body I didn't know that I was starving till I tasted you

spiderman meme 2.0 but in moth’s absolutely adorable artstyle.

“hey moth, i wonder who the me in your world is dating.” “why?” “idk. so we can, uh, go for double dates?” “…. ;)” “;)” *cue us turning teyvat upside down to look for each other in our own worlds*

moth shared that zhongli, being the attentive lover that he is, has continuously proven this fact by always trying to fulfill any cravings she has. we decided to test the theory out by sending him on a 'weird food' errand. so far he has yet to fail, but i think moth's one whole month of 'roast beef sandwich bonanza' broke her zhongli a little bit. roast beef sandwich going to his list of 'least favorite food' i guess

@genshinparty ◆ kat and zhongli ◆ 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒍 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ magnetic girl | got7

[EN Translation] Come to me, you're so magnetic I'm attracted to every part of you / I'm getting shaken up I'm falling for you more and more / You're so fantastic My dream is to have you / You're the end of my decision

cringy newlywed couple (us) meets adored newlywed couple (them).

all around peaceful. picture a picnic scene on one of liyue’s mountains, me snoozing on my husband and kat weaving flower crowns for all four of us. that’s it that’s the vibe.

@thestarsofenkanomiya ◆ haku and heizou ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ sorega, ai deshou | mikuni shimokawa

[EN Translation] Because I have you, because I have tomorrow / because I can't live on all alone I feel you so close by me, I guess that's love Because you know how much pain tears can bring I want to find a smile in your transparent eyes / as I search for a definite meaning in them

zhongli is particularly fond of these two, despite the mischief they occasionally get into. i think it’s mostly because he’s able to hold intelligent and brain-stimulating conversations with the two of them (and he finds the cases heizou works on very interesting). i’m just there for moral support and to dreamily stare at his pretty face and bask in his velvety smooth voice, really.

“'zou, this is my little sister mei-” “hey wait i’m-” “-as i said, little sister, meirin.” “:|”

@ajaxstar ◆ hoshi and childe ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ sparks fly | taylor swift

The way you move is like a full on rainstorm / And I'm a house of cards You're the kind of reckless that should send me running / But I kinda know that I won't get far

both me and zhongli are always very amused at how childe is just a total simp for hoshi. it’s very amusing (and also a little embarrassing) seeing the fatui harbinger shamelessly serenading his beloved in the middle of the street. makes us look at each other and shake our heads because ‘ah, young love.’

“so how long did you sleep last night?” “……….. neigh.” “…” “…” “TARTAGLIA-"

@dawndelion-winery ◆ acco and diluc ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ something just like this | the chainsmokers, coldplay

I'm not looking for somebody / With some superhuman gifts / Some superhero / Some fairytale bliss Just something I can turn to / Somebody I can kiss

our husbands are very confused because we keep trying to slander each other but also apparently it’s how we bond???

“you’d kiss al haitham, i know you would.” “pffff and you wouldn't???” zhongli and diluc, thinking: “who is this al haitham person???”

they invited us to stay over at dawn winery one time, and we were so lost in watching the beautiful crystalflies fluttering about the vineyards under the vast starry sky and were so lost in the atmosphere, we almost kissed. almost.

"wait acco, i don't think we should-" “NOT IN MY VINEYARDS BITCHES!!!” oops.

since zhongli kept talking about osmanthus wine diluc created a whole production line and added it to angel’s share menu just to shut him up.

@silkjade ◆ jade and al haitham ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ the middle | zedd, maren morris, grey

So pull me closer / Why don't you pull me close? Why don't you come on over? / I can't just let you go

the thing is they’re not a couple yet, but it’s so obvious that al haitham has a soft spot for jade?? and she most definitely is interested but she’s in denial??? any idiot would be able to sense the mutual attraction in the air like jfc just kiss already.

while zhongli thinks we should just sit back and let them figure things out, i am actively trying to push al haitham to confess. but he keeps bamboozling me with fancy words and complicated lingos. for the usually so straightforward scribe, to be this difficult? he’s so down bad.

@queen-belial ◆ queen and capitano ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ adventure of a lifetime | coldplay

Now I feel my heart beating / I feel my heart underneath my skin And I feel my heart beating Oh, you make me feel / Like I'm alive again

zhongli is, at first, very much concerned at the fact that i’m befriending the infamous fatui harbinger’s secretary-slash-lover… but he backs off when i point out how he’s basically friends with lil ol’ tartaglia who is a fatui harbinger lol

me and queen regularly keep in touch via letters and childe is our mailman because he secretly wants to be in queen’s good side. hmmm… a puppy crush perhaps? i should ask her the next time we visit zapolyarny palace.

@dustofthedailylife ◆ dust and zhongli ◆ 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒍 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ make it mutual | olivia ong

This is how you make me feel. / When you're here, I feel your vibe And I hope I don't fall into deep too fast You're not the type, / Who'll rush into things. / And let it slip away. Yeah, I like your type. / Caught up in this ride. / It's kinda silly but I'll say In this nice cool breeze, / Yes I am all at ease. / When I gush. / And this sweet feeling comes to me. Can't deny, can't lie, can't really face the truth. / And I wonder if you're feeling the same way too

we're both shy and find it hard to initiate talking to new people. thank archons our significant other doesn’t mind doing it for us...

the way her zhongli would make sure that whenever we dine, our destination has to have an extensive vegetarian menu so dust can choose what to eat is absolutely endearing!

@foxic ◆ wren and albedo ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ you and me | lifehouse

And it's you and me / And all of the people And I don't know why / I can't keep my eyes off of you

it's such a heartwarming sight to see these two interacts. albedo might be stoic for the most part but whenever he speaks with wren his voice is softer and more expressive. it just shows how much comfortable he is in her presence. i have overheard him asking zhongli for advice about how to make wren happy one time but you didn't hear that from me.

“hey 'bedo since you're... well, you, your height will probably be the same regardless of time, right?” “i suppose. why the sudden interest?” “i mean, wren likes short men so-” “MEI”

@sonder-paradise ◆ ariel and diluc ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ way back home | shaun ft. conor maynard

You just say the word and I'll go / No, it doesn't matter how far / 'Cause your love is all that I know Baby you just stay where you are / And you know I won't be too long Hold on / Hold on Remember when I told you / No matter where I go I'll never leave your side / You will never be alone Even when we go through changes / Even when we're old Remember that I told you / I'll find my way back home

double dates in angel's share because then, diluc can tend to the bar and spend time with ariel at the same time (we get counter seat privileges hehe). plus, zhongli sticks out like a sore thumb and attracts more customers (people talk about "the good-looking liyuean man" who's visiting mondstadt currently and tries to spot him), which means more revenue for the tavern! it's a win-win situation! and i know ariel secretly thinks her boyfriend looks really good doing his mixologist thingy heh

around the same time, diluc's wine business starts getting bulk orders from overseas nations, which is quite mysterious seeing as dawn winery itself doesn't try that hard to advertise their products there. i had my suspicions and subtly asked zhongli about it. "just a little a repayment for their hospitality", he says with a chuckle.

@j0succ ◆ nat and diluc ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ save me | bts

[EN Translation] Today the moon shines brighter on the blank spot in my memories / It swallowed me, this lunatic, please save me tonight (Please save me tonight, please save me tonight) Within this childish madness you will save me tonight I knew that your salvation / Is a part of my life and the only helping hand that will embrace my pain The best of me, you're the only thing I have Please raise your voice so that I can laugh again

honestly, it's a miracle that we were able to meet and know each other with the way our husbands are insistent on keeping us from exploring the 'bad' world outside. zhongli probably saw how lonely i get whenever he has to be out of the house and thought he'd give me one reprieve: penpals. and who else could be a better candidate than the ms. ragnvindr who lives far, far away in mondstadt, who is apparently just as lonely and whose husband is frantically trying to look for every way possible to make her happy and yet selfishly unable to give the thing she desires most: freedom?

of course, they regularly check the contents of the letter and make sure any objects that were to be included in the letter wouldn't aid the other in their attempts to escape. little did they know we had the same thought of continuing this whole play to create a chance to escape... that is, if we still feel like escaping when the time comes. why do they have to look so soft and happy whenever they see us writing the letters and making little trinkets to keep each other sane?

@merzkihstuff ◆ kiki and cyno ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ euphoria | bts

[EN Translation] I hear the ocean from far away / Across the dream, past the woods Following this clarity Take my hands now / You are the cause of my euphoria

ok ok listen i visit kiki a lot bc she has cats and a dog for a bf how fitting amirite haha *is stabbed by an electrified spear* and they are so so so cute??? somehow the felines avoid zhongli though... his slightly offended face is so cute...

me and cyno exchange bad jokes all the time much to kiki's delight and zhongli's exasperation amusement. we love supportive lovers indulging their significant other's weirdness 🤝

"hey cyno, as fellow polearm users who do you think is more out-sand-ing, you or my husband?" "...." "if we're dune here shall we get moving to our next destination?" "...."

@thelost-in-time ◆ lost and xiao ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ when you say nothing at all | ronan keating

The smile on your face lets me know that you need me / There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me / The touch of your hand says you'll catch me wherever I fall You say it best, when you say nothing at all

is there a more wholesome couple in teyvat besides these two? the answer is none. because they're just??? so wholesome??? the trust and support they have for each other are immaculate and awe-inspiring. you know the couple who can have a full-blown conversation with their gazes alone? t h e m.

zhongli is just so happy that his adoptive son adeptus is experiencing the joy of love again, so he visits them regularly just to check in and make sure everything is okay like a doting grandpa.

@astrxlis ◆ fox and xiao ◆ 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏!𝒂𝒖

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 ⟐ bleeding love | leona lewis

But nothing's greater than the rush that comes with your embrace / And in this world of loneliness, I see your face Yet everyone around me thinks that I'm going crazy Maybe, maybe

tall x short couple, times two. me and xiao lamenting over how we have to basically ask for a kiss because our significant other is just??? too fuckin' tall?? seriously what did yall eat?? zhongli literally eats rock how is he so tall

the first time fox pulled a 'bratty' attitude in front of zhongli (“so should i call you great-great-great grandfather?”) xiao looks so horrified it's hilarious. he's trying so hard to apologize and salvage the situation while i'm just wheezing in the background and zhongli is just standing there like 🧍‍♂️

💌 ps. yes this is an invitation to gush about your selfship with me - regardless whether you’re on this list or not 💞 also if you're my moot and i missed you i am so sorry sldfjsldf i probably either forgot (i do that a lot these days *grandma voice* i'm old) or don't know who you selfship with!!

#genshin impact #zhongli #rin selfships #zhongrin #yandere #goodness this is so long #i hope you lot didn't mind the tag #pls let me know if you don't want to be tagged in things like this in the future!! <3 #i think this is my first time writing & posting such a long and 100% pure self-indulgent post publicly.... *sweats nervously*#if you're reading this after all that then 1) congrats you've reached the end give urself a pat on the back and know that im smooching you #and 2) ily <3 <3 <3

115 notes · View notes

thepuckishrogue · 1 year

Text

Javier Escuella x GN!Reader in: What You Want, What You Need

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

|| ao3 version | f!reader | m!reader ||

|| javier m.list | rdr m.list | writing blog ||

↠ Requested By: The absolutely unreal levels of thirst I have for this man ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: So very NSFW ((is2g, if I see any minors interacting with my stuff it’s ~on sight~)) ↠ Chronology: In the here and now because it’s a Modern AU ↠ CWs/TWs: There a lot, but the biggest are mild exhibitionism, m!dom/sub dynamics, rough treatment/sex (Reader receiving), jealous Javier (but make it non-toxic), light choking (Reader receiving), and orgasm denial/control (Reader receiving). For a complete and more detailed listing see the note below the cut. And if I missed anything, please let me know!! ↠ Betas? Lmaoooooo… ↠ Total WC: 7.5k~

“Oh fuck you, Escuella.” “You’d best watch that mouth of yours, mi amor. Just because daddy-dearest can’t take you over his knee anymore doesn’t mean your papi won’t.”

A Modern AU in which you take your teasing a little too far at a friend’s party. In return Javier will make sure that you get what you deserve before you get what you need.

He’s using papi SARCASTICALLY ffs lmao

‼ PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM NO LONGER POSTING NEW WORKS TO THIS ACCOUNT ‼

The only reason I’m putting the GN version on here is because it doesn’t make sense to break them up. If you want to keep up with my work, head over to my writing blog, linked above. ((that’s where the link for my rdr m.list will take you, btw))

Anyways! Sorry it took me so long to write this. I have no excuse aside from being lazy and not wanting to cringe my way through reading my old writing lol.

Also! I’m trying something new, as far as translations go. Instead of having them all at the top of the post, they’re now directly under the paragraph they appear in. Imo this makes for an easier read, but if it’s having the opposite effect let me know; if enough people are having problems with it I’ll go back to the old format.

((also, also—I’m naught but a basic ass English speaker and thusly all translations are still internet-sourced, so if they’re wrong please refrain from coming for me lol))

💦 Tags: Reader uses they/them pronouns || Reader has ambiguous anatomy || Reader is POC friendly || M!dom/sub dynamics (with Reader being a low-key bratty sub until they sweeten up) || public teasing, but make it ~sexy~ (Javi receiving) || fingering (Reader receiving) || orgasm denial (Reader receiving) || penetrative sex (Reader receiving) || rough treatment/sex (tho not overly so) || one SARCASTIC use of “daddy/papi” || lots of pet names (including that “good baby” type beat, Reader receiving) || Reader purposefully making Javi jealous (in a playful, non-toxic way lol) || Charles is an accomplice in the aforementioned foolishness (there’s an… implied understanding there*) || naturally that means there’s a certain level of exhibitionism but it’s all R-rated stuff || arm binding via a scarf (Reader receiving) || light choking (Reader receiving) || lots of praise (Reader receiving b/c that’s Javi’s jam) || voice kink stuff (goes both ways) || ((write that off to OP being a self-indulgent shit once again lol)) || orgasm control (Reader receiving)

*So basically after fucking around Reader finds out that Javi’s not one to be teased after he winds them up only to leave them wanting. Reader, wanting to get back at him for not finishing the job, utilizes one of their mutual friends (Charles) to stoke a little jealousy, but I swear it’s not as toxic as it sounds lmao. It’s less about actually making him jealous and more about fraying his ironclad sense of control by triggering his possessive streak… Which, okay, still sounds bad I suppose, but there’s being possessive and then there’s being possessive in a hella toxic way; Javi is the latter. What’s more it’s implied that the three of them have an understanding of sorts, so it’s all in good fun.

“Is this what you wanted, mi amor?” ((my love))

Yes, your body screams as his hand works against your center, the drag of his callouses creating a delicious friction with every pass over the hot, sodden flesh. Your hands grip at his shoulders, hard and nearly tight enough to bruise, as you grind up into his touch.

You know you must look thoroughly debauched right now—head thrown back to expose more of your neck to his care, lips slightly parted under pants and half-formed curses, skin flushed and sweat-slick, and eyelids weighed down by the weight of your lust—and that’s saying nothing of the state of your clothes. Items have been hastily tugged and rearranged to get the most needed parts exposed in the quickest amount of time possible. You clearly look like you’re in the process of being ravished, but Javier…

The man couldn’t be more put together if he tried.

There’s not a hair out of place, and despite the desperate hold you have on his shirt, the damn thing hasn’t even so much as wrinkled. The only sign that he’s even the least bit affected by all of this is the tent in his pants and the desire that darkens his gaze, but you suppose that’s to be expected. If he wasn’t so damnably good at keeping his composure you wouldn’t have bothered with doing the things that have led you to this moment.

An ‘accidental’ brush of your fingers against his crotch, whispered filth as you casually rested your weight against his back, the instant transformation of a simple spoon into something far more erotic once it passed your lips—nothing was off limits, not when you were so hell-bent on breaking him. It’s all consensual, this game the two of you play. Sometimes the teasing is mutual, other times it skews a bit more against one of you, but the end goal is always the same: to bring the other so close to the edge that they willingly hurl themselves over it.

Today’s party had been the perfect excuse to indulge in a bit of play, and your man had been all too willingly to serve himself up as prey. This, of course, was due to the fact that he was more than confident in his victory. The thrill of the challenge was the only thing that gave the get-together any allure; sure, Karen and Sean do hold the crown for best house parties in your friend group, but you’re not always sure that they’re worth the (usually hangover induced) headache.

You’d brought you’re A-game, starting with wearing an ensemble that you know he couldn’t resist. His mind had clearly gone blank when you first emerged from the bedroom, though he quickly rearranged his face into something cavalier before telling you to “–get your cute ass in the car so we can get gone.” Your fingers played along the inseam of his pants for the entire length of the ride, but aside from an initial arching of his brow he was annoyingly nonplussed. You had stepped things up considerably once you were inside, but despite essentially giving a plastic spoon a blowie (just out of view of an unsuspecting Arthur and Lenny) the man hadn’t done so much as smirk in your direction.

After a good twenty minutes got you nothing but an ache between your own thighs you finally gave up and decided to try to enjoy the party. With a cup of something mixed and fruity in hand you headed off to join your friends, but before you could make your way into the living room a familiar hand was curling itself around your arm and dragging you off in the opposite direction.

It just fucking figures that being ignored would be the back-breaking straw. You would’ve been mad at it if it wasn’t gonna result in yours getting blown out.

Neither of you said anything as Javier led your deeper into the house, not that there was much to say anyway. It was pretty damn obvious from the set of his jaw and the hunger in his eyes that you had won, and it could never be said that you weren’t a gracious winner …self-satisfied smirk notwithstanding.

His lips were on yours before the door had even fully shut behind you. You had laughed a bit at his eagerness, but the taunting sound soon morphed into a moan when your back slammed into the wall just beside the thing. Eyes smoldering and smile wicked, he groped at your clothed form in a way that had you writhing and grinding against him within seconds. It was only once you were a panting mess that he finally, finally bypassed the layers to touch you properly; hot and wet, proof of your arousal met his questing fingers, electing a groan that was nothing short of orgasmic. Things had moved quickly from there, and the rest…

“I said—‘is this what you wanted?’”

The words are growled against your ear, though the harsh pant of the breaths that follow travel downwards until he’s nipping at the corner of your jaw. A broken mewl pushes past your lips at its sting, and though the sound leaves him shuddering against you, it’s clearly not enough to sate him. His free hand connects with your ass in a resounding slap, one that while not overly hard is still enough weaken your knees considerably.

“Yes,” you groan out, the word catching in your throat as his thumb rubs a fresh pearl of precum over your sensitive flesh. “Fuck! Javi, yesss…”

Hot, bothered, and more than a little desperate you rut against his hand with hard little jerks. Your borderline frantic movements and needy little sounds leave him chuckling darkly as he works you over with practiced ease. His tone is condescending as hell as he pulls more and more out of you with lascivious words murmured in a husky timbre. He’s playing you like a goddamn fiddle, but you don’t care, can’t care—about this or anything else that’s not your impending release.

“Baby, I need, fuck, I need–”

“Shhh, I know.”

And you don’t know how he knows, just that somehow he always, impossibly does, and now is no exception. He descends to his knees with a smoothness that only repetition can bring, nudging your legs wider so that you’re more fully on display for him. He looks up at you then, wanting to make sure that you’re watching—as if you could ever be looking anywhere else. His eyes flicker with a familiar mischief as he runs the flat of his tongue over your heat and you damn near scream at the wet, warm trail it cuts.

“Careful now, cariño, you don’t want them to hear us– Oooo…” The word fades into a rolling chuckle when your hips give an involuntary thrust forward that has him amending his statement. “Or maybe you do? Mmmm… You like that, huh? You like the thought of them hearing what I do to you? Hmm, mi bebé travieso?” He all but purrs the last word as he presses a kiss to your quivering thigh before putting his mouth to work again. He alternates between gentle sucks and teasing flicks of his tongue against your most sensitive areas; meanwhile his fingers gather up a measure of your moisture before pushing inside of you to start up a lazy pace. This treatment lasts for a few glorious seconds only to come to a stop so abrupt that it leaves all of your muscles seizing up in confusion. ((sweetie || my naughty baby))

You know what he wants—an answer to a question, that if he were less petty, he wouldn’t expect a real reply to—just as you likewise know that he won’t start again until he gets it. And so you take a shaky approximation of a breath before managing to stutter out, “J-just… returning the favor.”

Laughing, he takes your meaning instantly. With as many times as you’ve been forced to listen to Karen and Sean go at it on various occasions, it does only seem fair. Of course, your reply is more copout than actual answer, but thankfully he lets it go. For now. You’ll definitely be talking about this again at some point in the future—probably later on tonight, actually—but for right now he’s content enough to go back to ruining you with his deft fingers and talented mouth.

You’ve always been fascinated by Javier’s hands. They’re slightly larger than what you would expect from a man his size, and yet somehow they don’t seem out of proportion to his body. They hold so much potential, both to create and to destroy—a point that is mirrored in the tattoos and scars that cover the dusk of his skin. You love to see them in motion, whether he’s doing something as mundane as tuning his guitar or something more perilous like playing with one of his many knives; the former is a particular point of fascination as you cannot help but to wonder if the skill transfers over to more carnal activities. The way his stroking thumb works in time with the bob of his fingers into your heat you’re inclined to say that yes, yes it does.

And his mouth…

Holy fuck, his mouth.

It doesn’t matter where it is he’s kissing you, having his lips pressed against your skin is always enough to leave you weak. Warm and pillow soft, they glide over you leaving a feverish trail of desire in their wake. Calloused fingers continue to work you open, adding to your pleasure in a way that sees your voice scaling higher, louder, as any lingering worries about being overheard are vaulted clean out of your head.

In this moment his only goal is to see you coming undone, and under Javier’s touch you’re a rapidly fraying thread. He’s loving every minute of this, you know he is, but—“If you can’t keep that pretty little mouth of yours quiet, amor, I know my cock can.”

“Oh my god.”

The throb your core gives is almost painful in its intensity as you imagine having him face fuck you until tears are spilling past the corners of your eyes before bending you over and absolutely ruining you, and you have to wonder just what this man has done to you. You were never this damn kinky before—or maybe you’ve always been a closet freak—either way since getting with Javi you have been turned completely out, and you’re not even mad about it, honestly. What you can do without, however, is his smug little laugh. Like yeah, he totally has a right to it, wrecking you the way he is, but still. Any saltiness you feel is quickly forgotten as the spooled pleasure in your stomach wrings itself tighter. Your bodies work in tandem creating the perfect rhythm, so fucking perfect, and you’re so fucking close, just a little more and then—and then he’s pulling away?

What?

“Nooo! Javier, why–”

“Orgasms are for good little loves,” he tells you simply as he rises back to his full height.

“You cannot be serious right now.”

But looking at him you know he is. Honestly you should’ve been expecting something like this—you had been teasing him for nearly twenty minutes before this all began—but you’d thought that your punishment was going to come in the form of him gagging you with his dick before fucking you until you screamed. But this… Well this is the other side of the coin that you’d forgotten to consider. Yes, he’s hard and yes, he wants this just as badly as you, but Javier’s more than willing to deny his own needs if it means winning this little game of yours. He’s petty like that, and what’s more he has the will to see it through.

Well fine then, you think with a pouty twist of your lips. If he wants to be that way I’ll just finish myself off and–

Fingers close tightly around your wrist before you can properly touch yourself. “What did I just say, bebé?” ((baby))

“And who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do to and with my own body?” you ask with an arch of your brow. The bite of your words would be more effective, you’re sure, if they weren’t so damn breathy, but there’s little for that.

“Oh, mi amor,” he starts with a chuckle as he pins your hand to the wall beside your head, “you know exactly who I am.” He kisses you then, long and deep, and you find yourself melting under it despite your annoyance.

Damn this man and his silver everything! The thought drags its way through your sex-addled brain as your free hand twists itself in his shirt, though whether the action will lead to you pushing him away or pulling him closer you’re not sure yet, and before you can decide he’s breaking the kiss.

“Get dressed, cariño, we’ve got a party to get back to,” he breathes against your lips before pecking at them again.

“You can at least let me err, calm down some and clean myself up a bit–”

He shakes his head as he pulls away from you. “No, I don’t think so. I want you just like this, baby—all leaky and throbbing and wanting. I want you aching just as much as I am. It’s only fair, after all.”

Eyeing the bulge that’s seriously testing the tensile strength of his zipper you’re inclined to agree, reluctantly though it may be done. After all you are the one that kicked things off. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that you’re left to live with the consequences? Yeah, not so much. Fair’s fair, but that doesn’t mean you have to like it. Pouting all the while, you quickly set yourself back to rights—well mostly. Thanks to the hasty tugging of your prior urgency your clothes aren’t hanging like they’re supposed to and won’t be again until they’ve been washed and re-ironed, but there’s nothing to be done about that in the now.

You’re left to silently lament the fact that you’re about to take a mini walk of shame that hasn’t been entirely earned since you didn’t actually get any. Cutting your eyes over at the reason you’re in such a state you find that, aside from his very obvious arousal, the fucker looks as put together as ever.

“You suck, you know that?”

He snorts as he snakes an arm around your waist, guiding you towards the door. “Yeah, I do. I also lick and nip and tease and you love it.”

“Oh fuck you, Escuella.”

“You’d best watch that mouth of yours, mi amor. Just because daddy-dearest can’t take you over his knee anymore doesn’t mean your papi won’t.”

“Promises, promises,” you snark back, though there’s no denying the longing seated in your words.

His only reply is a dark little chuckle that leaves you throbbing with want and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. What’s worse is that you’re about to walk through a party full of all of your friends, and while it’s not the first time they’ve seen you flustered and frazzled like this the situation is still less than ideal. Thankfully the thought of having winks and suggestive comments tossed your way is enough to kill off any lingering lust, but this is going to be a long night either way—or is it?

A plan starts to come together in your mind as you hear Charles’s laughter floating in though the backdoor; he rarely ever laughs loud enough for it to be heard so far away, so you can only imagine what’s been said or done to garner such a reaction. Though his mirth usually runs on the quieter side of things, the man does have a mischievous streak that can almost rival Sean’s, and it’s only common sense and general kindness that keeps him from tapping into it more.

Tonight, however, he’s going to step outside of his self-imposed restrictions—you’ll make sure of it.

After all, your plan relies on it.

“What’s got you laughing so hard, Chuck?”

Charles doesn’t even bother with correcting you as he knows that you’re already well aware of how much he despises that nickname. You’re just looking to get a rise out of him, but unlike your boyfriend, he’s not so easily bated. Though to be fair to Javier, it did take you a good twenty or so minutes to finally break him—maybe more as whatever game it is you two are playing more than like started long before your arrival–

And is set to carry on for a while longer, if the state of them is anything to go by.

He’s hardly surprised to find that the pair of you are looking more disheveled than last you were seen. While Javier’s only slightly mussed, it’s more than obvious that you’ve been taken through your paces. There’s a wrinkle in your clothes that hadn’t been there before and your lips are plush in a way that says you’ve been kissed thoroughly and with a level of enthusiasm that would have left you moaning into the ministration as you grinded into your lover’s palm with needy little ruts of your hips…

He quickly averts his eyes as soon as the thought manifests lest you pick up on the way you’re affecting him—have always affected him, if he’s being honest. And it’s not just you. Javier is dangerously alluring in his own right, and he finds himself falling into his orbit more often than not. He’s never allowed himself to explore whatever it is he feels for either of you as you and Javier have always been a thing, though there’s no point in denying that there’s an attraction there, and a mutual one at that. Javier’s always been the more flirtatious out of the two of you, but when you have a mind to you can fluster him like nobody else. None of you have ever seemed truly interested in taking things beyond that level—yet.

Charles cannot help but to feel that one of these days there’s going to be a shift. The signs are all there, after all; the way you all gravitate towards one another, trading lingering touches and longing looks. Things that he would usually consider an invasion are much welcomed advances when they’re coming from the pair of you and he often finds himself reciprocating without any conscious thought. It’s all so confusing and thrilling and catalyzing that he cannot help but to crave more. Arthur has told him on several occasions to bite the bullet and make a move, but given that he’s dealing with an established couple he’s more than willing to follow your lead on this one.

In the now he gives you a response in the form of a nod towards one of the party’s hosts. Sean is just now scrambling his way back onto the deck (quite literally as he’s opted to climb over the railing instead of using the stairs like a normal person) after an overly-dramatic retelling of one of his more daring exploits had sent him tumbling off of it. Luckily for him the fall was a short one into relatively soft grass, so really it’s only his pride that’s been bruised. Seeing that his audience has increased by two he starts his story from the beginning and the pair of you listen with rapt attention–

Or, rather Javier does. You, however…

It starts out innocently enough, with you slumping against him and resting most of your weight against his shoulder. Charles contemplates draping an arm around you—it wouldn’t be odd of him as it’s a position that you’ve been in countless times before, but he doesn’t want to presume—but before he can think himself into a circle you’re snaking your arm around his waist. Your hold isn’t particularly tight, only really pressing in enough to keep you connected. After a few seconds you start to feather your fingers up and down his side in a move that he would’ve considered innocent if not for the wicked little smile on your face. There and gone in a flash, he finds himself looking at you more fully to be sure of what he saw; all he receives for his troubles, however, is a playful wink that leaves him batting down a burst of nerves.

It seems as if he’s unwittingly become a participant in whatever it is the pair of you have going on. He’s surprised, but he can’t say he’s opposed.

Steeling himself with a sigh, he finally allows his arm to drape across the breadth of your shoulders. The movement catches Javier’s eye from where he stands on Charles’ other side, as does the continued skittering of your hand. His expression as he takes this all in changes by degrees as he assesses you both separately; when looking at you there’s a knowing tint to his gaze that’s clouded with a banked lust, though when his eyes meet the taller man’s stare that knowingness sharpens into appraisal. Had the desire there dissipated Charles would have backed off immediately, but thankfully that isn’t the case. Javier gives you both a smirk that leaves Charles flushing in a way that gives him one more reason to love the dusk of his skin.

It’s apparent that Javier’s happy to let the two of you play, so Charles is content enough to let you do as you will. Your hands move higher and higher with each pass over the waffle-knit of his top until clever fingers are dancing up the back of his neck to gently tangle themselves in his nape. Nails scrape upwards into the loose wave of his hair in a move that nearly has him moaning out loud. He’s just able to bite down on the sound, but there’s nothing to be done for the way the rest of his body betrays him with a shiver. Having his hair played with has always been a weakness of his, but one that not many know of thanks to the boundaries that he’s set in place. The number of people who can say they’ve had the pleasure of obtaining this knowledge are few, and those who’ve gotten such a visceral reaction out of him because of it are fewer still.

Sounds seem to fade away as you continue to lull him with your ministrations, with not even the combined drunken yelling of Sean and Lenny’s conveyed anecdote being enough to pull him out of the stupor. He allows his mind to wander as you work; the images that flash through his head are ones that he usually reserves for hours far later than this one, when he’s alone with an ache between his legs that cannot be abated by anything but imaginings of the only two people who could reduce him to such a base state. His grip on you tightens unconsciously, forcing you more firmly against his chest and you’re quick you mold yourself against him.

Your pace is languid as you work him over with the repetitious scrape. It feels like he’s under the sweetness of your care for a small eternity, and he’s more than happy to stay lost for another eternity still, so when your fingers curl and tighten against his locks and tug there’s really no way for him to stop himself from crying out. Luckily the story has finally reached its end to a cacophony of laughter that’s just loud enough to drown out a sound that’s caught somewhere between a yelp of surprise and a moan. Thankfully everyone’s too drunk and-or preoccupied to notice the way his chest heaves and his eyes darken as he looks at you through heavy lids–

Well, everyone except for Javier. He’d honestly forgotten that the other man’s still here—that anyone’s here, really—but now his presence encompasses all of Charles’ attention.

“Alright, amor, you’ve had your fun,” he tells his partner. His tone speaks of mild amusement, though there is a sliver of something there—something dark and wanting, ravenously so—that leaves their breath hitching. To Charles, “It wasn’t very nice of them, starting something they know they can’t finish– Not tonight, at least. But don’t worry, ‘mano—next time, we got you.”

The words feel like they’re caught somewhere between a promise and a threat, but Charles finds that that only adds to their appeal. The pair of you say your goodbyes then, first to him and then to the group at large. A chorus of wolf-whistles and teases are given in response, with everyone having a pretty good idea of why you’re cutting out early, but if they suspect his role in things they’re kind enough not to mention it.

As Charles watches your retreating forms he runs a shaky hand through the length of his hair only to find that the motion doesn’t bring him the stability that it usually does. How can it, when he can still feel your phantom touch, the exquisite bite of your nails against the sensitive skin of his scalp…

These memories will continue haunt him, he’s sure—unable to be exorcised in full until he’s lying sweat-slicked and sated between two equally worn-out bodies.

“Is this what you wanted, mi amor?”

Javier’s thrusts can only be described as punishing, more so due to depth and force than speed. Your body jolts forwards with every snap of his hips, but the firm hold he has on the scarf that binds your arms keeps you from going too far—not that you want to be anywhere else but here, completely laid bare and at the mercy of the man at your back. The word ‘mercy’ used very loosely here as he is being absolutely ruthless and you’re loving every second of it.

Face down and ass up, he’s had you bent over the desk from nearly the moment you stepped into your bedroom, only stopping long enough to tie your arms behind your back. In all honesty you’re pretty sure this is the true reason he pushed so hard for its inclusion in the room—there’s definitely more appropriate spaces for it—but whatever. It’s not like you can complain when it gets such frequent use.

So yes, this exactly what you want, what you need…

“I asked you a question, baby, and I expect an answer,” he continues on in a low, demanding tone.

You try to reply, you swear you do, but whatever it is you manage to slur out between moans isn’t an adequate enough reply. Javier’s voice drops to something just above a true whisper as he leans more fully against you—close enough that you swear you can feel the beat of his heart against your back, close enough to feel the pant of his breath ghosting over your skin—with the sinuous roll of his hips slowing further.

“Forgot how to use your words already?” he tsks against the shell of your ear. “That’s okay, cariño. I know you wanna be good for me, so I’m gonna help you out…” Taking your confused sounding whimper for the question it is he chuckles before saying, “How? It’s easy—Imma fuck the answer out of you.” ((sweetie))

Before you can fully process his words he’s unwinding his hand from the cloth, pulling back, and pounding into you quick and hard. The feeling has you gasping out his name followed by a babbled yes-yes-YES that leaves him growling out his approval. He calls you his good baby then and the small bit of praise makes your brain fizz as your body reacts on instinct. Eager hips throw themselves back to meet his thrusts; though your positioning doesn’t really allow for much traction your efforts do earn you a few moans and curses of approval, at least.

“Mierda. Look at you. You like being fucked hard, huh? Like me taking you like this?” The words are little more than a rumble with how low his voice has dropped, and the change in timbre leaves you clenching up around him more. “Fuuck babe—that’s it, that’s– Fuck. Yeah, you love this shit. That why you were being such a little tease, yeah? Did you want me to fuck you ‘til you remember who you belong to?” ((shit))

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer this time, choosing instead to take your jaw in hand. His grip is just this side of bruising and well at odds with the gentle way his thumb strokes over your bottom lip. Your tongue snakes out mindlessly to flick at its calloused pad and you hum at the slightly salty taste of his skin. Javier hisses out a curse as you continue to lave over the digit, and you can practically feel his narrow-eyed stare from where it’s sure to be drilling into the back of your skull. Unwilling to relinquish even the least bit of control just yet, his palm slides downwards until it’s resting firmly against your neck. Long fingers easily encase the column, and while he doesn’t squeeze nearly as hard as he had been before there is a definite and steady pressure there. You know he’d sooner hurt himself before he would ever risk truly hurting you, but there’s still something undeniably alluring about feeling like you’re on the edge of something so dark and dangerous.

Your moan is slightly strangled as you lean more heavily into his hand, with your hole clenching especially hard as the oxygen vacates your lungs. In turn Javi grunts at the sensation even as his fingers squeeze just that little bit tighter, and in that moment you’re sure that a death of a different kind is close at hand. Spanish is falling from his lips much faster than your addled mind can ever hope to translate, but when he does finally switch back over to English he’s hardly saying anything you want to hear.

“What?” He gives a particularly hard thrust as you croak out the word, leaving you to damn near choke on it.

“You heard me, amor—don’t. You. Cum. After the shit you pulled tonight did you honestly think I was gonna let you cum so easily?”

Your replying whine is pitiful indeed, not that you actually expect to receive any sort of reprieve at this point. Still, that doesn’t stop you from looking over your shoulder and giving him your best pout. For his part your man mimics your expression, giving your neck a few soothing strokes before allowing his lips to pull off into a devious little smirk.

“Aww, look at you. There’s no need for all that, baby, I’m gonna give you what you want—not that you’ve actually earned it, not yet. You’ve been especially bratty lately; playing all these games, teasing me… I can’t just let that shit slide, so here’s how this is going to work: I’m gonna keep fuckin’ you good ‘n’ hard ‘n’ deep, and you’re gonna take it for as long as I say. When I decide that you’ve learned your lesson I’ll let you cum, and if you go over the edge before then there will be consequences.”

And you know he’s as good as his word.

Despite him saying all of this between pants, sharp curses, and a few breathy moans there’s no way in hell you actually stand a chance of outlasting him. Even if his stamina wasn’t god-tier and his will just as solid, pure pettiness would see him holding out if it meant keeping you on the edge. And as for those ‘consequences’, you cannot even begin to guess at what they may be, but a part of you really, really wants to find out. You’re positive you’ll enjoy it—maybe not as much as him, but you’ll still have your fun.

Before you can make up your mind about whether or not your defiance would be worth it, his hand is leaving your neck to hold your hip steady. You gasp slightly, already lamenting the loss of pressure, only to have the breath knocked out of you by his next thrust. The force of it sends you reeling, with the only thing keeping you from face-planting being the hold your man has on you. Instead your sweat-slicked body is shoved further up the desk in a move that would’ve been extremely uncomfortable if you weren’t already so gone.

Wanting a bit more agency, Javi grabs up the length of cloth that dangles between you; his movements do not falter as he shores up his grip with a few twisting motions before pushing into you again and again and again. He sets up a brutal pace that sees his hip bones digging into the plush of your ass and his balls slapping against you with every forward push. This is the only bit of attention that anything other than your hole has received since leaving the party and you damn near sob at the brief flashes of stimulation.

You’re not even sure what nonsense is pouring out of your mouth at this point, but if it’s anything like the disjointed garble that’s currently floating around in your skull then it’s one flaming wreck of a mess. You can hardly go by Javier’s reaction as you’re pretty sure that you could be singing lullabies and he’d still be into it. He just loves to hear you—it doesn’t particularly matter what sounds you’re making so long as he knows they’re a result of the pleasure he’s bring you. You’re much the same honestly, though listening to him turn the velvety syllables of his native tongue into growls and groans in the heat of his passion is its own type of torture. His voice is already an aphrodisiac in its own right, but when he’s fallen as deeply into his lust as he has into you it becomes something otherworldly.

Your man’s words slowly begin to shift from admonishments for your earlier behavior into praise for “–taking your cock like un buen pequeño amor,” and you can only hope that means you’ll get what you need sooner rather than later. ((a good little love))

Time stops making sense as he continues to take you. You’re both hyperaware of its passage and not, with seconds impossibly feeling like hours, but the minutes they bleed into hardly even registers. Your need for release becomes this all-encompassing thing that dictates your every move, breath, and thought. It creates a thrumming want that invades all of your senses until there’s nothing outside of it. Even Javi’s voice becomes little more than a cluster of sounds that you’re just barely able to perceive, though one phrase breaks through the haze every time he says it:

“Don’t you cum, cariño.”

His words are both boon and bane.

They’re the only bit of sense to be found in the symphony of needy sounds and hammering hearts and the repetitive meeting of flesh, and yet at the same time they are the very chains that hold you back from the one thing you need most. Your body is demanding, screaming, begging for this to end one way or another, and soon. You’re sure that each new thrust will bring about your end, and yet you hold yourself back even as your legs shake from exertion and your arms ache from the strain. Those four words will not allow you to do any less.

When the tension in your arms lessens you honestly think the limbs have finally gone numb, but then you’re being pulled up against Javier’s hard chest and you realize he actually let go of the scarf. The jarring pace he’d been keeping up slows to a gentle roll that makes you grind into him with a desperate whimper before he stills his hips altogether. His lack of movement has you rutting against him like some crazed beast, but the only thing this nets you is a throaty chuckle that makes you throb all the more.

“Tan ansioso,” he breathes against your ear as well-toned arms pin you flush against an equally muscled chest. This leaves you unable to do anything more than whine, much to your annoyance and his continued amusement. “You really want to cum, don’t you?” ((so eager))

“Fuck! Javi, you know I do–”

“Then say the word, mi corazón.” ((sweetheart))

“Please.”

“‘Please’, what?”

“Please let me cum.”

The moan he lets out at your words comes from somewhere deep in his gut making you shiver with your want. The only thing better than hearing him make such deliciously wicked sounds is knowing that you’re their cause. He’s always so quick to tell you that he’s the only one that can make you feel the way that you do—and it’s true, he definitely gotten you addicted to his particular brand of carnality, but it’s fine since you know it goes both ways.

Javier presses a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to your nape before nipping the skin there. “So good,” he purrs as his left hand snakes up to rub at your steadily leaking core. “Un bebé tan bueno para mí.” ((such a good baby for me))

His hand passes through the mess, smearing your arousal further until he’s zeroing in on your most sensitive area; all the while your hips wiggle against him in a desperate bid to rut into his palm properly. Unfortunately the movement does little for either of you aside from frustrating you further.

“There you go, teasing me again.”

“‘M not trying to,” you tell him, “just wanna feel good—wanna make us both feel good…”

Your trailing sigh turns into a moan when he thrust against you again. The movement is spastic, an involuntary response to the way that your walls flutter around him. He swears lowly before releasing you completely and pulling out; the sensation of his thick cock leaving you is good for all of two seconds before you realize that he’s not pushing back into you. For one panicked moment you think that he’s going to leave you tied up and aching, but before you can even form the first syllable of your plea he’s freeing your arms and turning you to face him. It’s the first time you’ve gotten a clear look at him since being bent over the desk and you’re pleased to find that he looks just as much of a mess as you do. Hair mussed, lips parted ever so enticingly, cheeks flushed, and dewy skin glistening so prettily under the warm-hued lights—he’s sex personified in this moment and the sight somehow makes you burn for him all the more.

Javier is drinking you in just as readily, being, as always, especially taken with your mouth. Heavily lidded eyes track your lips movements as you wet them, and when you bite into the plush skin he lets out a shuddering breath. A muttered “Fuck” is all the warning you get before his lips are crashing into yours while hands eagerly grip at your hips to pull you flush to him. The heat of his cock is like a firebrand between you, and the press of it against your skin has you instinctively writhing against it.

Your movements leave him shivering as he exhales harshly—the first sign that his self-control is starting to slip.

“Get on the bed, mi amor—wanna look in your eyes while I fuck you, wanna see you fall apart…” He breathes the words against your lips before taking the bottom one between his teeth just as you had a moment ago. The sting of his bite is soothed away by a swipe of his tongue before he’s kissing you again.

Somehow he has enough presence of mind to get you both moving and soon you feel something solid, yet yielding hitting the back of your legs. You’re just wobbly enough for the disturbance to take you off of your feet and Javier readily follows you down. So close to the one thing you both want, need, the kisses grow sloppier and more hurried. It takes a few moments for you both to get into a more settled position, but as soon as you do he’s lubing up again before pushing into you completely with one long stroke.

Your breath catches at the feeling of being full once again while he lets out a sound that’s half contented sigh, half growl, with the latter completely overtaking the former when you roll your hips up to meet his. The pace he sets is far less grueling than it had been when he was taking you from behind, but it’s no less maddening for the change. Long, deep strokes end with a languid snap that has him hitting something inside of you that leaves you damn near sobbing every time. It doesn’t take long for you to get back to that same level of torturous pleasure that you’d been drowning in minutes before and soon you’re clawing at his back and calling out his name like it’s the only word left in your lexicon.

All the while your eyes are locked with one another’s, mostly at his insistence. When he said that he wanted to see you fall apart he meant it; a firm hand against the side of your face keeps you from turning away while tutting words part your lids whenever they flutter shut for longer than a few seconds.

“You’re doing so well, mi amor, so good,” he tells you. His words are slightly slurred and you know he’s just as drunk on you as you are on him. The thought leaves your walls clenching and he hisses at the added tightness. His pace quickens as he drops his head down into the space between your shoulder and your neck. Kisses, nips, and sucks carve a path upwards until the warmth of his breath is ghosting over your ear. “Touch yourself for me.”

It’s an order that you’re all too happy to follow.

Your fingers quickly move down to work against your sloppy sex and you can only hope that the whole ‘no cumming until I say so’ thing is no longer in effect because if not you are in so much trouble. With everything going on you’re only gonna be able to last about a literal minute and that’s being hella generous and rounding way up, honestly. Javier knows this, knows you and your body damn near better than you do some days. He sees it in the way your eyes glint with desperation, can feel it in the way your whole body tenses just so, can hear it in the pant of breaths that come quicker, shallow. Part of you worries that he’ll drag things out just to punish you further—or worse yet, leave you wound up and wanting—but a bigger part of you knows he’s not that cruel. Javier always makes sure to give you what you need and right now you need to cum, badly, and so does he if the fevered look in his eyes is anything to go by.

“Yes, babe, yes. Just like that, fuck me back—Joder! Tan buena…” His muttered praises become more and more scattered as his hips begin to meet yours faster and faster until— ((fuck! so good))

“Do it for me, mi amor. Cum.”

Your body doesn’t hesitate to follow the simple command, and the orgasm that rocks your frame is almost blinding in its intensity. A wordless cry rips itself from your throat as bliss—white-hot and all-consuming—skitters across your every nerve setting them alight. All the while you hold on to the man that still hovers above you as if he’s the only thing tethering you to this plane, and for all you know he is. After all, you’re pretty sure that one cannot experience something so world-shattering as this and not ascend to some higher form of consciousness, if only for a moment.

For his part, Javier shudders and bucks his way through his own release just as you’re coming to the end of yours. Your nails follow the length of his spine as you watch him fall apart—eyes pinched shut, chest heaving, lips parted under hard pants—he rarely looks more beautiful than when he’s cumming and the sight is one that you’re positive you’ll never get tired of seeing.

Kisses are traded between shaky breaths as you both work your way through the last of the aftershocks. They’re sweet, lingering things that are seemingly at odds with everything that preceded them—only not really as he’s always like this once your games have come to their end. All loved up, he likes to keep you close so that he can dote on you as much as you’ll allow him to. Feeling safe, warm, and sated, gentle strokes of his hands against your cooling flesh and murmured declarations of love are the lullaby that sees you drifting off into slumber.

© thepuckishrogue/TheViperQueen, 2019-2023 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…

#((Immy does fan fiction: The Yeehaws))#here comes the fiiiiic~ lol #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x gn!reader #javier escuella x gender neutral reader #javier escuella x you #javier escuella x y/n

37 notes · View notes