✧ councilor!sevika who loves her wife and daughter more than anything in the world.
✧ councilor!sevika who moved her family out of zaun some years after joining the council.
✧ councilor!sevika who leaves her office after long days and comes home to her fourteen year old babbling about everything under the sun, and even though she wants nothing more than to lay in bed with her lovely wife and sleep for an eternity, she listens to everything her kid has to say — she might fall asleep during it though.
✧ councilor!sevika who is informed during a council meeting that an explosive went off at the cafe her wife frequented.
✧ councilor!sevika who rushes to the hospital, enforcer in tow, giving her all the information they know.
“it looks like the explosive went off just outside the window of the establishment. not too many people were hurt, but i…”
“you what? spit it out!”
“i… well i think your wife might’ve gotten the worst of it. i think this might’ve been a targeted attack.”
✧ councilor!sevika who shows up at the hospital demanding to see her wife.
✧ councilor!sevika who damn near throws up when the doctors tell her the extent of her wife’s injuries.
“when they found her, the wall had toppled over her. there were shards of glass in her skin from the window. her eardrums were ruptured and she is concussed. her ribs are broken and one of her lungs were punctured. she also has a globe rupture in her right eye. in most cases, those are somewhat easy to fix but i’m not too sure about this one, so i want to perform a vision test when she wakes up. as for her legs…”
“what? what about her legs?”
“well, as i mentioned before, the wall fell on top of her. the rubble, it… it crushed her legs. just below her upper thigh. honestly, it’s a miracle she’s alive.”
✧ councilor!sevika who, while she waits, sends a few enforcers to watch her daughter until she can get home.
✧ councilor!sevika who sprints when she’s finally allowed to see her wife.
✧ councilor!sevika who’s heart stops and feet falter when she sees the light of her life hooked up to the countless machines, the upper right half of her face wrapped in bandages and casts on both of her arms. the hospital blanket covers her from the waist down.
✧ councilor!sevika who chokes up when her left eye flutters open and round lips part.
“… ‘vika?”
“i’m here, doll. i’m right here.”
“where… where's my baby? is she… is she alright?”
“i sent some enforcers to watch her at home, she should be just fine.”
✧ councilor!sevika who watches her wife’s face flash with several emotions.
“what do you- what do you mean? why isn’t she here? she’s not hurt?”
“wha- what do you mean? wait. was she… was she with you?”
“yes, i… i think so? i don’t… i’m not sure. sevika, where’s my baby?”
✧ councilor!sevika who storms out the room just as the enforcers she sent to her home are running down the corridor toward her looking frantic.
“we went to your home, councilor. the housekeeper said your daughter left with your wife this morning. she isn’t there.”
✧ councilor!sevika who, for the next week, balances consoling her wife and trying to let the enforcers do their job. so far, all they’ve come to her with is the obvious: this was a targeted attack, someone from zaun was responsible, and her daughter was taken from the scene.
✧ councilor!sevika who breaks a little every time she has to tell her wife that they haven’t found their little girl.
✧ councilor!sevika who eventually takes it upon herself to find her kid.
✧ councilor!sevika who rolls her eyes and glares fiercely at the other council members when they try to talk her out of it.
“councilor sevika, we understand your pain, but it is in your best interest to just wait while the enforcers handle this. finding your daughter is priority.”
“shut the hell up and listen to what i’m saying. i’m telling you this as a courtesy; i am going find the son of a bitch that took my kid and hurt my wife, and i am going to kill them.”
✧ councilor!sevika who ventures into zaun everyday, armed with nothing but a pistol, going to every bar she can find. she knows whoever is dumb enough to pull a stunt like that is dumb enough to gloat about it in some way, shape, or form.
✧ councilor!sevika who walks into a newly renovated bar three days into her own investigating and makes eye contact with the bartender who visibly cowers at the sight of the woman. bingo.
✧ councilor!sevika who gets in the bartender’s face, demanding to know everything they know.
“someone hurt my wife and took my kid. tell me what you know.”
✧ councilor!sevika who reaches forward and grab the bartender by the collar of their shirt when they hesitate. she grabs them by the back of their head and pushes them into the bar, their head hitting the surface hard.
“now.”
“i- some woman came in. a- a couple days ago! she- she said something about finally uh- about getting her closure! said you killed her brother and- and she was gonna get her lick back! she was mumbling a lot, really drunk! i- i swear that’s it!”
“where?!”
“i don’t know! i swear i’ve told you everything i know! please!”
✧ councilor!sevika who, two days later sees a flickering light coming from a mostly abandoned building. the same building she spent most of her days.
✧ councilor!sevika who takes two steps at a time to get to silco’s office, ignoring all the memories flooding her mind.
✧ councilor!sevika who doesn’t hesitate to kick the door down just as a woman is bringing a chainsaw down on her daughter who lays tied to silco’s desk, tears and snot running down her bruised and beaten face.
✧ councilor!sevika who doesn’t even stop to think and just pulls the gun from her waistband and shoots at the woman, the bullet piercing her wrist and causing the electric tool to fall and clatter on the floor.
✧ councilor!sevika who stalks over to the woman stumbling away from the desk and grabs her by the hair on her head, dragging her to the clear space in the room.
✧ councilor!sevika who slams the woman to the ground, and stares her in the face. all she sees is the anguish that’d been on her wife’s face for the past two weeks. and then she sees the fear that was on her daughters face when she barged into the office.
✧ councilor!sevika who blacks out as she drives her fist into the woman’s face over and over and over again until she can’t hear the woman’s pleas. and then she continues to punch the woman in the face.
✧ councilor!sevika who doesn’t stop until she registers her girl crying for her mama, the woman in front of her no longer even recognizable as a person.
✧ councilor!sevika who staggers over to the desk to untie her daughter, face and fist covered in blood that didn’t belong to her.
✧ councilor!sevika who is still running on adrenaline, but immediately comes down when her daughter flinches as she approaches her.
“hey, i’m not gonna hurt you. you’re okay, i’m gonna get you home, hon. everything’s gonna be okay.”
✧ councilor!sevika who has to carry her daughter down the stairs and through vaun because she holds onto her so tightly (realistically she wouldn’t have let her walk even if she wanted to).
✧ councilor!sevika who is overcome with so many emotions as she tells her wife that their daughter is safe.
“after they make sure everything is okay, they’re gonna move you two into a recovery room together. that way i can keep an eye on both of you.”
✧ councilor!sevika who, as she holds her weeping wife, thinks about the fact that she came this close to losing everything and can’t help but cry into her wife’s shoulder.
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You wracked your brain for the memories, for the proof that you weren’t insane for thinking that you were close. Mikasa clasped your hand, jumping as you weaseled into the crowd. The girls you befriended earlier were gone. No, it’s not like you were imagining things. That night, there’s no mistaking that night.
The bass roiled.
Mikasa had been moaning your name, grinning as you trailed kisses down her body. She stopped you, and for a second you had been worried that you were going too far, but instead she said,
“It’s my turn to get on top of you.”
You still remember the heat. Her lips on your ear, your neck, teeth grazing your nipples.
“I’ve never done this before,” she breathed, face between your thighs.
“It’s okay, I can guide you,” you reassured her. It’s not like you were super experienced either. Your nerves were eating you alive, but your excitement took over. Is this going to be awkward tomorrow? You had thought. I’m hooking up with my roommate.
But you told yourself it would be fine – nothing would change – as Mikasa’s tongue pressed against you. It wasn’t long before you demanded swapping. Her first experience with a woman and she was doing all the work? How was that fair?
She squirmed underneath your mouth.
“You want me to finger you?” You mumbled against her skin, and she let out a desperate “yes.”
She grabbed fistfuls of your hair as your fingers slipped inside.
The crowd swirled around you, vision blurry at the edges. Mikasa placed your hands on her hips – a rap song had come on next. Her body was fluid, following the beat. Her bare skin was hot to the touch.
You could tell she was getting close, and you used your free hand to grip her breast, rolling her nipple between your fingertips. She cried out, looking down at you, jaw slack.
“I’m so close! I-” She cut herself off with moans. You almost felt bad for the people living on the opposite wall. It wasn’t long before she was coming undone in front of you, and the satisfaction that coursed through your veins was better than any drug.
The song’s bridge was smooth and dreamy, and the way Mikasa was looking into your eyes was dangerous. Sparkling; you still remembered the way her eyes went wide that night. Does she ever think about it? The doubt was carving out your insides.
“I’m not done with you,” she had said, pushing you onto the bed and replicating much of what you did – she was a fast learner. Her skill at going down on you was sloppy, but you grinded against her tongue. She reached for your breasts the same way you had done for her.
“You’re copying me,” you laughed softly.
“Sorry for being inspired by you,” she pulled away to bite your inner thigh.
A repetitive, loud remix came on next. Your senses were flooded. Mikasa’s eyes had fallen shut, bobbing her head to the beat. You couldn’t tell if your hands were getting clammy on her skin.
You had liked her so much, had thought all of the tension was in your head, and now this? Was it real? She wasn’t practiced, but she was insistent. It was obvious she wasn’t going to stop until you could finish. The rush came, and your thighs clamped down on her head. She pushed your thighs apart, keeping steady access.
The stimulation sent you over the edge, gripping the sheets as you felt orgasm roll through you. You cried out for her; she kept licking until you told her to stop.
“Who’s Annie?” You blurted out over the rushing sounds. There was a couple making out next to you, a group of friends taking selfie videos, people laughing and yelling.
“What?” She frowned.
“Annie?” You said louder, “Who is Annie?”
“Just a girl I used to hang out with,” She reached arms around your neck, leaning her mouth to your ear.
“I’ve never heard about her,” you felt weak. You could smell the vodka on her breath. The tune pitched until it warped into a new beat. Thumping bass.
“Why do you care?” There was a lilt to her voice now, you wanted to give in to it. Instead, you pulled from her.
“Because you never tell me anything!” The silver chain around her throat glinted in the colorful lights.
“And I owe you explanations for everything I do?” She matched your volume, attracting a few stares. You scoffed, scrunching your lip and storming off.
From my fic on AO3, Pleasure and Envy.
Desc:
It wasn't obvious to you at first, but as your friendship with Mikasa Ackerman has deepened, you couldn't help but fall in love with her. That is until her childhood friend, Eren, enrolls at your university. Everything shifted: your friendship, Mikasa's priorities, and your feelings. After a falling out, you decide in a fit of jealousy to get back at Mikasa, the easiest way you know how - eliminate the guy that's been taking so much of her time, and take him for yourself.
Modern University AU, love triangle problems, bi/pan reader who wants Mikasa and Eren bad.
“C’mon, babes. These blokes were cute. Val knows them. Said they’re nice… enough,” your best friend, Poppy, made a teasing face, sticking out her tongue at you before getting serious, “How long’s it been?”
You sighed, picking at your chipped nail polish,
“...six…”
“Six weeks!?” Poppy panicked in earnest.
“...months.”
“Six months. Are you —” she snatched your hand and dragged you to your feet, “Enough. Dry spell over.”
You found yourself arm in arm with Poppy, dodging raindrops and puddles on your way to her coworker’s flat, screaming and laughing so hard your lungs hurt, soaking in the cold downpour. There was a big party happening at her place that night. A key party. It was something she had picked up at uni. Everyone’s keys went into a bowl, and whomever’s keys you ended up with was who you went home with.
You followed Poppy into the alley, hiding under the awning as she buzzed up.
A crackled voice came through the grimey box,
“Yeah?”
“It’s Pops! Let us in, you slag!”
Giddy screaming came through on the speaker and you heard the door click. Up you went, trodding four flights of stairs, panting and dripping at the top. The front door was wide open and music thumped out of it. A few guests were out in the stairwell, propping the door open to a small balcony, smoking and drinking, crushing their bodies together and swaying to the beat.
“Pops!” A pretty ginger girl with a teensy tiny triangle top under a fishnet shirt came bounding through the foyer, “Come in! Come in. Name’s Val, nice to meet ya. Give us your keys, Pops. And you, too, new girl. Look at that top!”
She pretended to grab at your breasts which, you had to admit, did look pretty killer tonight. You’d worn a black leather bra top with silver glitter all over it, and you felt like some sort of rock star. A black leather miniskirt completed the ensemble. You couldn’t stomach the heels, so you opted for your combat boots. Val looked like she was about to spill out of that tiny top, but she made it look good.
You handed over your keys, watching your little glittery Bulbasaur keychain bounce around her finger as she twirled them in circles.
“Which bowl for you?”
“Huh?” You didn’t understand.
She pointed to each one, presenting them to you like she was hosting a game show,
“This one for if you like blokes, this one for if you like birds,” she gave Poppy a wink and tossed her keys in that bowl, “...and this one for if you don’t care what’s going on downstairs!”
“Oh, um,” you pointed to the last one, “Don’t care either way, really.”
“Perf! Okay, let’s see what you’re drinkin’!”
You followed them through the packed flat and into the kitchen. Liquor and beer bottles littered the countertop, and the only cups left in the cabinet were coffee mugs. You watched Val pull two down and pour some sort of blue drink into each one. She handed them to you with a bright smile,
“Better go mingle! Never know who might grab your key.”
You smiled, tight-lipped, wondering if you had just made a huge mistake or if you really would be going home with someone nice tonight.
Either way, you mingled, chatting with a few people, trying to hear them over the noise of the music. But, even in your rock star get-up, you weren’t really the partier that Poppy was. You peeked around the apartment for an escape. The bathroom was locked and, from the sound of it, a couple wasn’t patient enough to wait on their keys to get their night started.
You checked the next door and found the cloakroom. It was a bedroom slash office, and it was blissfully dark and quiet. You shut the door behind you, sighing with relief and then —
“Havin’ fun, yet?”
A deep, rumbling voice found you in the dark, and you froze. He was sitting in the window sill, smoking a cigar, and he put his hands up in mock-surrender,
“It’s alright, love. Just needed a bit of peace.”
“Yeah,” you said, regaining your composure and straightening your skirt nervously, “No, it’s okay. Sorry, I’ll just… go.”
“Can’t leave without your key,” he laughed, holding up your house key. Your sparkling Bulbasaur glinted in the low light from the window.
“You… how did you?” You stepped toward him, retrieving your key from his outstretched palm.
Now that you were closer to him, you get a better look at the man with your key. He was tall. Tall enough to dwarf you even while he was seated in the window. He had a full beard, shaved down the chin like a ship captain, or a pirate, and his eyes were the palest blue you’d ever seen. It was almost supernatural to look into them and be met with his icy stare.
He was sharp, too. You could tell that he had a quick wit, and an even more capable body. Huge, sculpted muscles pressed through his white tee shirt, tightening the thighs of his jeans. A veritable giant of a man. But when he smiled, just as he was doing now, you felt safe despite his stature. He seemed like he meant you no harm.
“How do you have my keys?” You asked again, watching as the white smoke billowed and curled out of his full lips, carried away by the night wind.
“Saw you come in. Couldn’t have some other arsehole picking you first, could I?”
“First?” You stood closer to him still, staring up at him as he rose from his seat, towering over you with his body, darkening the room in shadow.
“Aye,” his hand went to your chin, raising it up as if to have a better look at you, “Bit greedy, me.”
You thought he might kiss you, but just before he leaned close enough for your lips to touch, he took another drag from his cigar, letting you smell the tobacco and licorice scent on his breath, the lingering notes of whiskey not far behind.
“And you thought you could be greedy with me, is that right?” You whispered, unsure of why you were speaking so low, but he matched your register in his reply, purring his words at you and making your belly twist in on itself,
“I let myself hope so…” You watched as something that seemed like doubt flashed through his gaze, and a primal piece of you hated that.
“Good thing you snagged them, then,” you reassured him, letting your hands roam across his belly, circling around him and testing the waters, “Be a shame if someone else got to me first. Some… arsehole.”
“Careful, love,” he warned you, “You’re too pretty to be teasin’ a poor bloke in that fuckin’ outfit. Does things to us.”
You dragged your hand up his thigh, knowing exactly what things he was mentioning but playing dumb anyway,
“Oh? What… things?”
Quick as a snake’s strike, he snatched your wrist in his free hand and held you steady. It surprised you, and you froze from the shock of his strong grip. Then, your whole body lit up as he slowly moved your palm over to his zipper, behind which was pressed the hardest, fattest cock you’d ever felt in your life.
“These things.”
He flicked the end of the cigar clean out of the window and grabbed you around the jaw, bringing his face down to yours to kiss you. He was smoke and fire and whiskey and sugar and something musky that could only come from a human’s tongue. His beard scruffled your skin, tickling your lip as you kissed him back.
He pulled away, his eyes hooded from the pleasure of your kiss, and said,
“I’m John, and I am at your fuckin’ service, pretty girl.”
“Take your shirt off, John,” you nibbled on the bottom of his lip and smiled as sweetly as you could manage.
“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled back, wolfishly, and peeled his shirt off revealing his immense chest, covered in dense, soft hair.
You kissed him again, letting your hands touch him wherever you wanted to. You felt his soft nipples harden under your touch, and you stroked the smooth skin of his ribs, tattooed with some sort of skull and shield. In the midst of your lust-filled tour of his torso, he tossed you on the bed, piled high with coats and scarves, shoving them out of the way in a knotted, tangled mess.
He kissed his way down your body, stopping when he came to the swell of your breasts, chuckling and looking up at you.
You were already breathing heavy, a little annoyed he’d paused in the middle of something good.
“What?” You asked.
“You can’t be serious with these. Look,” he twisted a thick finger under the top of your bra’s cup and shoved it down, revealing your nipple as it popped free from its enclosure.
He fixed his mouth over it and began to suck. Then, he popped his lips off of you before sucking hard again, making you whine from the sensation.
“Fuckin’ perfect. Saw you and these gorgeous tits…”
Suck. Lick. Suck.
“...across the whole bloody room…”
Suck. Suck. Suuuuuuuck.
“...and I had to taste you…”
Suck. Bite. Kiss.
“…had to fuckin’ know.”
You let your fingers peel through his hair, messing up his gel, scratching his scalp, listening to him moan as he groped your breasts, hungry like a rabid dog.
“And,” you breathed deeply, trying to compose yourself, aiming to tease him further, “Are they what you hoped for?”
He grinned, dropping one hand to unbuckle his belt. Then, you felt his steely length loll and roll against the inside of your thigh. You couldn’t help but gasp, feeling his fleshy head drool across your skin. John looked down at you then, and returned your question with one of his own,
“What do you think, love?”
With an audacity you were not expecting, he slapped his rod against you, making little popping noises on your skin, opening some sort of feral door deep within your psyche.
“And then —” John put both of his hands underneath your hips and flipped you over, making you lay on your belly, surprising you with his incredible strength, “I saw this fuckin’ arse. Mmm.”
He raked your skirt up your legs and grabbed two huge handfuls of your cheeks, squeezing them so tightly it almost hurt. Then, he looped his thick forearm under your hips and lifted you up, making you present yourself to him lewdly.
“Tha’s it, pretty girl. Lemme see you…” He sighed raggedly, “Oh, fuck. Look at these.”
You felt his finger slide between the gusset of your panties and your aching hole, rubbing you up and down, pretending to admire your lace thong.
“These knickers, and this perfect fuckin’ hole.”
All you could do was hang there, draped over his forearm while he bent his head to plant his mouth against your center, doing a lazy job of moving your underwear out of the way, preferring instead to just eat you through them. You felt the warm prod of his tongue as he pushed it against the fabric, writhing it skillfully to get to your insides, licking in long strokes to work your taste into his mouth.
Your bra was still askew, letting your nipples rub against someone’s faux fur coat, and when you heard the clinking of metal sounds, you peeked over your shoulder to see John fisting his cock while he devoured you. His efforts were messy, and he drooled along your skin, not caring how much of you smeared all over his face.
“Mmf—”
You let out a whimper, unable to hold back, feeling the pressure of your pleasure mount as he focused on your rim, laving it in deep, circular strokes, bringing you right up to the brink and guiding you back down, torturing you right on the edge of bliss.
“Yeah? ‘S tha’ good, love?” He teased, releasing his cock to peel the thong off of you and shove his tongue deep into your hole.
“Ungh! Fuck, fuck, fuh—”
Your whole body tensed, leaving nothing to the imagination about the orgasm he had just wrenched from you.
“Good girl, that’s it. That’s it.” John talked you through it, speaking with his mouth full, licking you endlessly.
Then, he flipped you back over, prowling over your body like a beast, grinding his hips into you, asking wordlessly for permission. He kissed you again, letting you taste what he had done and you sighed into his mouth, eager for more.
You were soft for him, but you still wanted to push him. So, while he was looking down at you, pondering whether or not you’d let him go all the way, you stuck your tongue out, licking him from the bottom of his chin, over his plush lips, and up the tip of his nose.
He smiled and sat back, lazily playing with your breasts, trying to make damn sure you knew what you wanted.
“You want more, love? We can stop when you’ve had enough of me.”
You didn’t answer him. Instead you let your knees fall open, pushing your skirt up over your belly, revealing yourself fully to him. Then, you reached between your legs, past your aching hole and found the silky body of his cock. He shivered at your touch, and his hips rolled involuntarily as you began to stroke him, moving your hand back and forth, rocking your hips to add to the effect.
“Got any protection, John?”
He dug his hands into his pocket frantically and pulled out a condom. Breaking the corner with his teeth, you watched him roll the thin layer over his dick, still eager and willing to serve you. Even though he was in the position of power, the expression on his face made you feel like you held the flog.
“Fuck me,” he lamented, sitting back on his heels and gently playing at your soft, pliant hole reverently, “You’re the most beautiful fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen — ungh… or felt.”
The moment his fingers touched the inside of your body, his expression changed. It was as if a new part of his mind had woken up and taken over. He was fully in your thrall. You were sure that if you had asked him to leap out of the window, he might comply.
“C’mon,” you smiled, pulling him closer to you, kissing him softly and then as deeply as you could, breaking away to whisper, “Let me feel you.”
He reached between your bodies and you felt the wet lick of the lubed condom tip as it teased your hole. Then, the dense, hot pressure of his cockhead.
“Oh! You’re big,” you breathed.
John stopped,
“You alright, love?”
You nodded, canting your hips, searching for more of his girth to drag into your waiting core.
“Tell me,” John commanded, rocking forward a bit more, testing the waters.
“Yes, I need — god, please — I need more. Please.”
“Shh, shh. Here,” he pressed forward again, stretching you out, making your eyes widen from the new sensation, “Here I am. Here…”
He was kissing your neck and breasts, leaving little red marks behind from his strong suckling, licking and nipping at your flesh. You could barely feel it. All your body could concentrate on was the seemingly unending supply of hot, heavy dick he had at his disposal. He just kept moving forward, inch after inch. You thought, at one point, there could be none left, only to have him press just that much deeper.
By the time his base grinded down against your pubic bone, you had tears in your eyes, and you imagined that you should be able to feel him in your throat.
You sighed together, and he regained his balance, planting his arms beside you, elbows on each side of your face, covering you protectively.
“...so damn big. Holy fuck,” you gasped, whispering to him.
He nuzzled your cheek, a little sweet for how insanely lurid his sex had been,
“You ready, love?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
He began the long journey back out, and then his thrusting began in earnest. He was a slow fuck, but his girth made every pass a challenge. And he always made sure to bottom out. You could tell that was when he felt the most pleasure. So, you chased him with it. His cock would reach its peak in you, making your skin burn and your eyes roll back in your head, and just as he tried to escape, you would twist your hips to follow him down, making it feel as if you were locked together, unable to pull away from your warm muscles.
A few of those thrusts and he was breathing hard, fucking you harder, picking up his pace. Then, you opened yourself up for him, spreading your legs to allow his big body easier access to yours.
“Oh, fuckin’ hell. That’s good. You are so fuckin’ good. So good,” he praised you mindlessly, just saying words that floated through his mind. You knew it wouldn’t be much longer until he would go past the point of no return. So, you ran your hands over his body again, exploring him like you had been when you found him, swirling your fingers over his ribs and plucking softly at his nipples, kissing his neck, not caring if you left a hickey.
He was grunting and calling for you with every thrust now, his head buried in the crook of your neck, ready to spill himself for you.
Each strong thrust of his cock was shaking your bones, making your body want to come, twisting your muscles inside of you as a warning of what you were about to release.
His eyes lit up, finding yours,
“You gonna come for me, love?”
“Yeah,” you keened, pressing your forehead to his cheekbone, begging him for aid when there was nothing that could save you from being tossed into the deep end.
“Come for me. Fuck! There! Right there, hngh —”
You saw sparks at the edge of your vision, and your whole body arched against him, reeling with wave after wave of glittering joy. His face was twisted in a snarl, and he stopped breathing, coming with you in your shared ecstasy, his cock pulsing within you through his orgasm.
Then, he gasped, a smile painted on his face, half in soporific joy and half in disbelief.
“Fuck…” he said, gently untangling himself from you, letting his fat dick slide out of your wet, well-used hole.
You’d never felt so empty in your whole life, and you cried out from the loss. He heard you, wrapping you up in his arms and keeping you beside him, letting you both catch your breath.
After a while, long enough for the bass-heavy song to change, he slid out of bed and put himself back together. Just when you thought he would be on his merry way, he took your hand in his and kissed you with more affection than you ever expected. He told you,
“C’mon, love. Grab your keys. I don’t do one-night stands.”
“Oh?” You smiled, pressing your keychain back into his open palm, “You want more?”
Hi, I saw that your matchup are open. Could you do one with one or two of Hazbin Hotel's characters?
I am male (he/him), pansexual and scorpio and INFJ-T. And I like to be called Gabry.
Appearance
I’m 173 cm tall, have a very thin and slender body, dark brown eyes and hair and short, fluffy and tidy hair. I have olive skin and thick but tidy eyebrows.
About me
I am shy and introverted. I am that kind of person who doesn’t like to stay in a crowd, but I like to be around people that I feel I can trust. And often I gladly speak with them. Even if sometimes it’s hard for me to speak about my feelings or my thoughts (or make a logical phrase).
I’m an anxious guy, and sometimes it gets me easily. This happens because sometimes I think about all the things that I have to do or want to do or when I find myself in a situation where I have a work to do and I can’t do all the things or there is something that blocks me (physical or mental), so I go into paranoia and think: ‘what should I do?’; ‘Am I doing it in the right way?’; ‘Should I do that or not?’; ‘Did I do that or not?’; ‘Did I say that in the right way?’; ‘Did I miss something?’. And it happens with important and even stupid things that I give weight. And to drive away my paranoia, I do three things: convincing myself that I’m doing/did that in the right way, ignoring my paranoia or asking for someone's opinion/help.
I’m touchy. When someone scolds me, I could be offended or feel bad. Or when I watch a particular sad/angst scene of a movie/TV series or I see a similar situation in real life, it could change my mood for an entire day (sometimes, it doesn’t always happen).
Often everybody that I know describe me as a tidy guy. And they are right. I like to tidy/clean up all my things (and not) as I want. Even though I know that I can’t clean everything and sometimes I don't do that because I say ‘another day’ (and it ends up that I clean it up).
I often don’t smile. Except when I smile for being polite or when I’m genuinely happy, I’m not that kind of person who has a smile for all the day.
I have low self-esteem and sometimes a little and stupid and not major mistake that I make can change my mood to the bad for an entire day
Sometimes I melt for everything are cute. Like kitties, puppies and newborns (I think that all of them are cute) or when I watch a cute moment in a movie/TV series.
Sometimes I have my head in the clouds. Because I like to let my imagination run and create with my mind my own story/scenaries that it’s built by all the fictions that I watch/read every day.
Sometimes I overreacted for all the situations are not significant, but other times I could have a neutral reaction (this depends on the value that I choose to give to the situations/things that I see).
Hobbies
Playing video games; watching movies and TV series; reading books and comics (my favorite horror/fantasy/science fiction/drama when it’s serious/thriller); listening to music (from classical to pop and rock).
Likes
Cats, milk chocolate; music; video games; Movies and TV; books and comics; blue and black colors; sweets; mythologies.
Dislikes
Alcohol (I rarely drink red wine, but beer or white wine never); heavy desserts; spicy foods; dark chocolate; mess and dirt.
Extra information
I can play piano.
I often swing my legs, both in opposite directions when I’m sitting. No matter if I’m upset or chill, I make them swing in anyway.
I constantly wash my hands.
Sometimes I could make a sarcastic joke. But it usually refers to myself or about someone who is not the interlocutor that I tell the joke.
Often when I have a job to do, I want to do that myself, because I want to prove that I do that with nobody’s help, even though sometimes I ask for help when I realize that I can’t do that alone.
⸻
❝ YOU ARE MATCHED WITH… Alastor ❞
ꜱᴛᴀᴛɪᴄ MEETS STILLNESS.
There is something about you that immediately catches his attention. Not loud, not flashy, not desperate for attention like most souls in Hell. You are quiet. Observant. You think before you speak, even if that thinking spirals. To Alastor, that is… refreshing.
⸻
❝ HE FINDS YOUR MIND INTERESTING. ❞
Your imagination, the way you drift into your own thoughts, building stories from everything you consume. He listens. Actually listens. Encouraging you in that subtle way of his, asking questions, wanting more.
“Go on,” he hums. “You were saying something fascinating.”
⸻
❝ HE CUTS THROUGH YOUR ANXIETY. ❞
When your thoughts start looping, when the “did I do this right?” questions stack endlessly, Alastor does not entertain the spiral. He ends it.
“You did it,” he says simply. “That is enough.”
It is firm. Grounding. It gives your mind something solid to hold onto.
⸻
❝ QUIET COMPANIONSHIP. ❞
You do not need to perform around him. No constant talking. No forced energy. Just existing in the same space, calm, collected, peaceful. It becomes one of your biggest comforts.
⸻
❝ YOUR ORDER MATCHES HIS. ❞
Your need for tidiness, structure, and having things a certain way aligns with him more than you would expect. There is a shared understanding there. A quiet appreciation.
⸻
❝ HE HANDLES YOUR SENSITIVITY… CAREFULLY. ❞
Not soft. Not overly gentle. But intentional. He does not push where it will truly hurt. He notices more than he lets on, adjusting just enough to keep you from being overwhelmed.
⸻
❝ OVERALL ❞
A relationship built on balance.
He stabilizes your chaos.
You soften his sharp edges.
Something quiet. Strange.
And deeply grounding.
⸻⸻⸻
❝ YOU ARE MATCHED WITH… Charlie Morningstar ❞
ꜱᴏꜰᴛɴᴇꜱꜱ THAT HOLDS YOU TOGETHER.
Charlie is warmth in its purest form, and you are exactly the kind of person she wants to protect and cherish. From the moment she meets you, she sees how much you carry internally… and she refuses to let you carry it alone.
⸻
❝ SHE REASSURES YOUR ANXIETY. ❞
Where your thoughts spiral, she steadies them. Not by dismissing them, but by gently guiding you out.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she says softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”
⸻
❝ SHE IS PATIENT WITH YOU. ❞
When you struggle to express your thoughts, when words feel stuck or messy, she waits. She never rushes you. Never pressures you. Your pace becomes her pace.
⸻
❝ SHE BUILDS YOUR CONFIDENCE. ❞
Your low self-esteem does not go unnoticed, and she works against it constantly. Celebrating even the smallest things.
“Gabry, that’s amazing! You did that yourself!”
And she means every word.
⸻
❝ YOU GROUND HER. ❞
Charlie is big emotions, big dreams, big energy. You are calm, thoughtful, steady. You give her a place to slow down, to breathe, to just exist without pressure.
⸻
❝ SHARED SOFTNESS. ❞
Cute things? You both melt instantly.
Movies, stories, music? Endless conversations.
Your imagination? She adores it.
“Oh my gosh, that’s so cute—tell me more!”
⸻
❝ COMFORT COMES NATURALLY. ❞
On your worst days, when your mood drops from something small or overwhelming, she is already there. Holding your hands, pulling you close, reminding you gently.
“You’re doing better than you think you are. I’m really proud of you.”
⸻
❝ OVERALL ❞
A relationship built on warmth.
She lifts you up.
You steady her heart.
summary: this was the first time m/n shifted from his reality to another, and he wished he'd done it so much sooner.
This idea has been stuck in my head for so long, and idk how I was gonna write it, so I'm just gonna put this as a one shot for now. Unless people want it to be a full story (would you want it on AO3 or Wattpad?) who knows, the reader could take Jayce's place and the reader could sacrifice himself with Viktor.
This is a male x male one shot, so in short, a very gay one shot. You can't tell me Viktor is straight, I mean look at bro. T-T
Warnings: suggestive themes (?probably?)
m/n couldn't stop himself from falling in love with Viktor. Every little thing the older man did always made m/n's heart stutter and fly away into the cosmos, never to return.
This was his first time ever shifting to his desired reality after his spiritual friend had pestered him to shift to a reality they knew he'd go to in a heartbeat. Arcane.
It was a comfort show for him, and Viktor was even more of a comfort to him whenever m/n saw him on the Telly. After season two came out, he finally caved into his friends pestering and shifted, for the first time, to Arcane so he could watch Viktor's past self. The Viktor m/n found comfort in.
m/n was was considered Jayce and Viktor's third partner in this reality m/n created for the three. He wasn't the best, science wise, but he was somewhat believable enough for Viktor and Jayce.
m/n was startled from his thoughts as Viktor called to him, his front facing the black board he stood in front of, his cane leaning against the desk near them. "Are you even listening to me, m/n?" Viktor asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"yeah." Viktor gave him a look, "no." m/n sighed as Viktor laughed gently.
"honestly, it's like talking to a wall with you," m/n turned his head away from Viktor, his fact flustered. "What's going on in that head of yours that's got you so distracted?"
"it's nothing V," m/n spoke, turning back to him and standing, ignoring the way Viktor studied him. m/n walked next to him, crossing his arms as he towered slightly over Viktor. "Continue." Viktor smiled as he began to talk.
Yeah, m/n was glad his friend pestered him enough to travel here. Viktor, even with all the imperfections, was beautiful and that's why m/n couldn't help but silence Viktor by leaning down slightly and placing his lips onto Viktor's, silencing the older man.
Viktor froze, his arms at his sides as he stared wide eyed. He felt his lips move slowly with m/n's, almost hesitantly. m/n pulled away with wide eyes, looking at Viktor with an apologetic look. "Viktor, I didn't mean to, I --" Viktor dropped the chalk and pulled m/n back down to his height, using the end of his cane he had grabbed to pull him down as his other free hand went to the nape of m/n's neck, kissing his roughly. m/n's hands went to his waist as he backed the two up gently, being mindful of Viktor's leg.
m/n lifted Viktor up on the desk behind them and continued to kiss Viktor, wishing he could stay like this for as long as his other body was asleep. Viktor was the one who pulled away first. m/n whined as he opened his eyes, Viktor chuckled, rubbing his knuckles against the cool skin of m/n. The younger male couldn't help but feel love struck. He's never fallen in love before, and of course it had to be with a fictional character. Someone who's worlds apart from him.
"You're so beautiful, Viktor." Viktor smiled, pecking the man's lips again. "I wish we could stay like this forever."
"then we'd never get work done." m/n shook his head.
"it would be worth it. To stay with you, forever." m/n hugged him around the waist, standing between his legs as he rested his head against Viktor's chest. Viktor held m/n's head gently in his hands, running his slim and long fingers through his hair.
"yes, it would." Viktor frowned, kissing the top of the younger man's head. If only it could've stayed this way forever. If only m/n could stay here, with Viktor, with a life he wished he could've had. If only he could continue to live the constant comfort in his life. If only Viktor wasn't fictional.
Damn, I think I called all of us Viktor fans out with this one post T-T I absolutely adore Viktor and wanted to write something for him. I'm in an Arcane kick, so, requests are open for Arcane if anyone wants me to write any more.
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Imagine you're dating both Steve and Robin (they're still platonic), and you show up to Family Video every day to affectionately annoy them. Sarah is there because I just love her outfit from the Labryinth. ❤️🔥
We've been talking a lot about ships and our place in it:
I'm a bi woman, and I don't understand the male x male ship preference of other women who are also bi/pan/lesbian.
I like couples that have women because I like seeing people like me being involved in stories and being appreciated. And I also have a preference in couples where one of them is bi/pan, especially men because I think we have few bi/pan men.
Apolo knows how much I cried when they said that Corinthian was Pan hehehe
genre: fluff, angst, slightly suggestive at the end, humor if i may say so myself
trope: best friends to lovers! how cool and original ha!
what to expect: he laughs, “i don't care if you're about to pee your pants. you’ve done it before. what you haven’t done before is avoid me.”
author's note: reader is pansexual :) :) i gave up on doing an elaborate pride-themed series because i don't trust myself but i will try to release something for each member. and if you have any requests, do feel free to leave them!!
—
you wake up to your phone blowing up beside you. the buzzing of your phone startle you and you roll over to the side, picking up your phone with a groan, peeking at your phone through squinted eyes.
you sigh with recognition when your phone lights up with 10 unread messages from hyuka
hyuka: yo
hyuka: yo
hyuka: yo
hyuka: dude
hyuka: y/n…
hyuka: hulloooooooo
hyuka: y/n the loml my bestie my dear friendo
hyuka: wake up how much do u even sleep brooooo
hyuka: broski it’s important
hyuka: wow i cannot believe youuu……. stoppp ignoring meee
you groan again, cursing him in your head as you swipe your phone open.
hyuka: aha!! ur online
y/n: no shit bitch you spammed me like you were on fire or some shit
hyuka: i could’ve been on fire and u would sleep through it
y/n: happily
y/n: what the fuck do u want this early
hyuka: early?? it’s 12 pm but ok
hyuka: ok but but but i have a idea
y/n: an*
y/n: and stop having ideas
hyuka: ur gonna regret saying that
hyuka: bc i was gonna ask u to come shopping
hyuka: but ig not since u want me to stop having ideas
y/n: ….. you little shit
y/n: come pick me up in 30
hyuka: and why would i do that
y/n: because you love me <3 and you support me <3
hyuka: first i’m hearing of it 🤔
y/n: alright bye im going back to sleep if that’s what u want
hyuka: fINE BE READY BY 1!!!!!!
—
“i thought i told you i’d be here by one?” the feigned disbelief rings in hueningkai’s voice as he steps into your bedroom to find you crouched in front of your measly but functional dressing table.
“you said to be ready by one,” you mumble through gritted teeth as you focus on getting the stroke of your eyeliner right, “and that doesn’t mean you’d be here by then, so i took some more time.”
“ah, sorry, i forget how stupid you are sometimes,” hueningkai comments as he flips down on your bed. you sigh, finally satisfied with the winged eyeliner you’d been perfecting for the past five minutes.
“and i forget how shameless you are sometimes,” you retort, standing up with a huff, “barging into my house without even knocking? you’re worse than any toxic parent i’ve met.”
hueningkai greets with a sarcastically bright smile, sitting up and watching you as you put on your crocs with a pout. he laughs and you glare at him.
“’s funny how you put all that effort into your outfit only to top it off with your ugly crocs.”
you throw a handful of the tissues you used to clean up your failed eyeliner attempts at his face, “i’m going shopping without you, asshole. maybe i’ll get yeonjun, at least he understands fashion.”
“hmm, i’m gonna tell beomgyu-hyung you chose yeonjun-hyung as the fashion expert, and then we’ll talk.”
you flip hueningkai off, shoving him through the hallway of your living room, with shooing sounds. as you grab your car keys and exit the house, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the only full-length mirror at your place. a white loose-fitted shirt slightly tucked into the front of your denim shorts pair smoothly with your black crocs — you have no idea what hueningkai’s going on about, you think as you follow him with a smirk.
—
“ohhhh, how is this one?”
you stop in your tracks with a glower on your face, wondering why hueningkai is pointing the ugliest shade of green in your face.
“what?” he squeaks when he spots the look on your face, “i thought you liked green! i can’t keep up with you!”
you shake your head, “i love green, hyuka, but that—” you point a hesitatn finger at the not-green jumper in his hand, “that’s fucking devil vomit. i’m not wearing that even if you paid me real money to.”
“what if i treated you to frozen yogurt after this?”
you wordlessly snatch the atrocious piece of clothing from him, “i’m never going to buy it though so don’t even think about it.”
“don’t be so sure of yourself, y/n,” hueningkai grins at the sight of his chosen piece lying in your shopping bag and you sigh internally at how adorable it is of him to be so excited over having bribed you into simply trying on the jumper. the vision of his sheer happiness remains ingrained in your mind later, when you do put the thing on, and much to your surprise, you’re not knelt on the floor puking your insides out.
“how is this?” you deadpan with a dead look on your face as you open the door to find him already jumping up and down like an excited child at the sight of cotton candy. if only the jumper you’re wearing was the color of cotton candy, you’d consider justifying hueningkai’s taste in clothes.
“wow! wait, you actually look cute in this!”
“so you did think it was an ugly sweater?” you hit hueningkai’s arm and he bites his lip at having been caught. “fuck you. just for this, i get to choose what flavor of frozen yogurt you’re getting.” you turn around only to be spun back around.
hueningkai’s flushed face greets you and he looks down at the floor, “i’m- i’m serious! you look cu- this looks cute! seriously! i’m not pranking you right now?”
you choke over a laugh at his flustered state, both confused and half-flustered yourself. you would always have so many questions about this boy. but for now you settle your insides with a loving head-pat to hueningkai’s brown hair, “i believe you for some reason. i’m going to try the other stuff on.”
as you close the door behind you, hueningkai sighs into his hands, unable to understand what he was doing. he’s ready to melt into a nondescript muddle of emotions outside your trial room to recover but your voice calls out to him sooner than he expects.
“hey, hyuka?” his heart skips a beat at the hesitance in your tone, “um, fucking hell, i need some help here.”
hueningkai chokes over his words, “h-help? you- what, you can’t even wear clothes without my help now?” he laughs at his own unwise joke, ignoring the eye-roll of the hormonal pre-teen kid next to him.
“can you actually shut the fuck up for once and like, help me before i suffocate to death?”
hueningkai coughs, feeling his ears burn. he slightly opens the door to your trial room. “i can come in?” he mutters, heart in his throat. “yes! do you need me to write it on a fucking paper or something? come inside!!”
the boy beside him chuckles, and hueningkai glares at him, cursing him for still not having had hit puberty.
either way, he shimmies into the room, and the first thing he thinks when he looks at you is: god, he hates stupid clothes that get stuck around people’s limbs.
second, he thinks: fuck, you’re standing half-naked in front of him.
you look at him through the mirror in front of you, “hello? i’m literally being hung to death by a piece of clothing and you’re busy gaping at me? do i need to start crying before you—”
“alright, alright, i’m helping so please stop screaming at me,” he fumbles with the hem of the sweater, trying to figure out the ends of the tag that was obstructing the cloth. as hueningkai struggles with the intricacies of threads, you struggle with the feel of his fingers brushing against your skin, every other second.
“are you done yet?” your comment is meant to be frustrating but the way you say is saturated with nerves, your voice half-breaking halfway.
hueningkai chuckles, sending a flush of air against your back, making you shiver. “i’m trying!” he says, eliciting another less intense shiver from you.
“oh, wait, i get it now.. i think.”
it is now, after having sacrificed at least a majority of his working brain cells, that hueningkai notices that the sweater is a lovely shade of lavender and it fits you snugly, sitting cozily against your hip.
“oh, wow,” you voice his thoughts when you look at the mirror, “this sweater is fucking god-send.”
“i can’t believe you actually look nice right now,” hueningkai mutters. you roll your eyes at his classic back-handed compliment and turn around as he continues, “you know what is a god-send? me. your bestest friend who spent an hour trying to untangle this impossible thing.”
“so i take it you’re saying i should buy this, then?” you inquire, leaning on one leg, hands on your hips. hueningkai looks away, afraid to look at you for too long and shrugs, “i mean, it’s more decent than the rest of your closet so—”
“get out of here, hyuka.”
you sigh in relief when he leaves you alone, and feel a dull twinge at his lack of enthusiasm toward your outfit. it’s stupid, you know, to base how you feel about yourself on the basis of what someone else says but the most valid explanation you can give to that is hueningkai qualifies as something other than someone else.
put in his own words, he’s your ‘bestest’ friend. in your own words? he’s… annoying.
and just because he’s annoying and you can’t get it out of your head how annoying he is, you interrupt a perfectly peaceful, albeit far from civil, frozen yogurt debate to ask him a stupid question.
“who do you find attractive?”
hueningkai blanks out for a whole minute, comprehending that you, y/n, are asking him this, a question about who he’s attracted to. you try to hide your embarrassment by stirring around your yogurt, looking through the window.
“what? i’m curious because i’ve literally never heard you talk about being into someone.”
he shrugs as nonchalantly he can, “because i’m not into someone.”
“no, that’s not what i mean,” you nudge him again, “like, a stranger, you know? just a surface-level attraction is what i’m talking about?”
“are you seriously asking me what my type is right now?” hueningkai narrows his eyes, “what is this? a scheme to set me up with a friend of yours?”
your heart aches, wondering how much easier life would be if your ulterior motive was the simple, that easily revealed. “no! i’m just asking you! it’s not that deep, you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”
you go back to eating your respective yogurts in silence after that and you’re one minute away from banging your head against the wooden table in front of you.
“it really depends. i can’t explain it that well honestly,” he says suddenly. you look up, brows raised. “it’s hard to find someone who has all the things.. you know?”
“and the same features look so different on everyone?” he points at you, “like you have short hair, right?” you’re glitching the minute he brings you up but you nod affirmatively because of course, you’re aware that you have short hair.
“but even yuqi has short hair but she looks completely different to you,” you already don’t like where he’s going with this, but you know you’re gonna sit through the suffering anyway, “she’s very loud and like, out there? yours is much more subtle.”
what does that even mean?
“ha,” you jump up in realization that you’ve said this out loud and hueningkai fumbles, “i have no idea either, it’s just… there isn’t a blueprint. you know like both yeonjun-hyung and beomgyu-hyung have had mullets but gyu-hyung looked more androgynous and ethereal.”
“what i’m hearing right now is that you have a hair fetish?”
“i hate it when i’m being vulnerable with you and you make me a pervert, y/n.”
you chuckle, stuffing another spoonful of yogurt in your mouth.
“what about you?” hueningkai asks, almost accusingly, “what’s attractive to you?”
“i hate it when people ask me my own questions, so fuck you,” you flip him off, “also, i’m attracted to people’s personality more.”
“yes, yes, i’m aware. you told me you need to get to know people properly before you can be into them?” you nod, “so then, what quality makes you be into someone?”
you sigh, “come on, this isn’t a fair question! personality isn’t like appearance! i can’t just say that my type is beomgyu in a mullet and get away with it like you!”
“hey, i never said that my type was— that’s! that’s besides the point! i’m, for example, i like funny in a person-”
“you mean a sense of humor?”
hueningkai glowers at you, “just give me something here, y/n, you’ve made me spill my beans, now you tell me at least one thing.”
“fine! god, let me think,” you mumble. a few minutes later, you shrug, “i guess.. affectionate people are.. i have a soft spot for them?”
“that’s a bad answer, who isn’t affectionate in this era? what are we all, a bunch of tsunderes?”
“i’m leaving before you give me any more trauma, hyuka.”
—
at this point, it is clear to everyone and their mother that you have a joking as a coping mechanism problem which makes the fact that you joke around hueningkai natural. of course, there comes a time in your life where you find yourself alone in your bed, unable to asleep and unable to stop yourself from doing the one thing you’ve managed to avoid pretty well: thinking.
thinking leads to thinking about hyuka which leads to thinking about your conversation with him and how yuqi is loud and out there while you’re designated a lonesome word like subtle. it doesn’t help to know that yuqi gets along so well with hyuka, despite having met him fairly recently. and you see no reason for them to not be so close, honestly. both of them are crazy, to say the least. loud, hilarious, easy-going. they could spend hours cracking jokes and laughing at them. you could sit in the same room as them and go completed unnoticed.
you sit up with a groan. you hate being like this, you do. so bitter towards people just because you’re stupidly into hyuka. god, you groan again, in realization of the fact that you’re stuck in a cliche: helplessly in a one-sided love with your best friend. you didn’t just have the second-lead syndrome, you are the second lead. you’d just watch from beside hyuka as he falls in love with someone like yuqi, words Loud! and Out There! embellished around her head.
and you’re right about the fact that you’re inside of a cliche. you’re wrong about which cliche it is.
because around the same time as you, hueningkai is whining into beomgyu’s arm about how much he hates himself for saying what he’s said to you.
“they hate me for sure! they think i have fucking hair fetish!”
“you know, huening, if you’re actually secretly in love with me instead of y/n, you could just tell me.”
beomgyu’s grin doesn’t shrink even at the sight of yeonjun’s disgusted grimace as he pulls hueningkai off him and pats his back.
“kai, calm down, my man. they said they like affectionate people, right? that’s basically you!”
hueningkai shakes his head, “no, y/n’s definition of affectionate is very different. you won’t get it. i probably qualify as clingy.”
beomgyu shakes his head behind hueningkai, “you sound insane right now, i’m sorry. i can’t take it, i’m just going to text them—”
“NO! YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!”
—
the next time hueningkai sees you, you have red hair.
at first, he doesn’t even realize it’s you. he’s too busy looking around the room for you that when beomgyu screams, “y/n, you’re fucking crazy!!!!!” he squeals in surprise. when he turns to look at you, he expects you to just be drunk or in the middle of a wrestling match with yuqi but no.
“y-you have red hair?” he stumbles his step at the sight because he’s the one going crazy right now. what does one do when their crush dyes their hair out of the blue? or should he say, out of the red? (sorry not sorry for the bad joke. he’s down bad for you.)
his comment is drowned out by the choruses of wowing and screams around him as yeonjun and beomgyu jump around you excitedly, playing with the freshly red strands of your hair. most of the conversation is unintelligible as is to be expected but a part of it stands out.
“oh my god, why suddenly?”
you shrug, “i was just bored with my hair. it was too… subtle.”
you know what you’re doing, being overtly obvious about your motives but thanks to everyone’s enthusiastic reactions (and hueningkai’s unenthusiastic reaction), it is easy to disappear from his sights after that comment.
the rest of haechan’s game night is spent with a bunch of people rushing at you all at once, marveling at the change and catching up with you, the latter thanks to your absence at last month’s game night.
“i really missed you last month, you know!” mark jokes, poking your shoulder, “there’s nobody else who gets the hype of connect four like you!”
you laugh, “i apologize for abandoning you, my dude. i was burnt out after finals week so i just slept that whole weekend away.”
“ah, understandable. you’re forgiven in that case,” he mumbles, patting your head, and hueningkai suddenly appears at your side. though his signature goofy grin is plastered to his face, he seems stiff. you notice it right away and dread fills you, and then guilt. you’ve been ignoring him the entire night and he’s run out of patience. god, you hate life.
“you know what, we should play now!” mark exclaims, catching a glimpse of the uncharacteristic tension between the two of you. “all three of us, connect four. what say you?”
you freeze, and look around the room for an excuse. “um, actually, i was just going to go find the bathroom. you two should carry on.” mark stares at you warily before cracking a tight smile, “sure, y/n, you go do your business. we’ll be here.” he waves at you, watching you leave.
“or, i guess i’ll be here, all alone,” he corrects when hueningkai takes off right after you.
“wait, y/n.”
you would rather not. you keep speed-walking toward the bathroom, hating every step of the way.
“what-?” hueningkai takes hold of your shoulders, fixing you in place as he blocks your way to the bathroom. “hyuka, i’m literally about to pee my pants right now. so please unhand me now.”
he laughs, “i don't care if you're about to pee your pants. you’ve done it before. what you haven’t done before is avoid me.”
“avoid you?” your voice breaks because your body is never on your side, “what? i try listen to my liver's needs and suddenly i’m avoiding you-”
“i heard what you said, you know. about your hair.”
“my hair?” you mumble, and though you know what he’s referring to, you ask him, “do you like it?”
hueningkai feels the weight of the question uneasily, as if you’re not the y/n he’s known for more than just the length of his entire life, but rather as if this is a y/n he’s just met at a stranger’s party.
“i’m- i, yes, it’s nice. it looks natural. like you were born with red hair.”
the amused look on your face falls at his comment and you truly want to strangle hueningkai in that moment. you don’t.
instead, you shrug his hands off of you and rush into the bathroom, nails pressed up painfully against the skin of your palm.
“hey, y/n! what- i’m not done- hey, what’s wrong?”
hueningkai has followed you into the bathroom where it’s so much more silent and you want to go back outside. another one of those moments where your thoughts hit you hard. hard enough for you to say them out loud.
“of all the things you could say, hyuka! of all the things you could’ve said about me and my stupid fucking hair! first, it’s subtle. and now it’s, what? natural? honestly, just-” you stop when you realize you’re tearing up, “just, can you go right now? i’ll talk to you later.”
“what do you mean? i’m- did i say something wrong? i- i don’t get it.” hueningkai is truly stumped at your outburst. all along he’d been worrying about if he was being too obvious about his feelings about you. now he fears he’s not been obvious enough. (no shit, sherlock.)
you’re silent and fuming. breathing. “i don’t understand, is this about the other day? i didn’t mean anything bad-”
“but that’s just it, hyuka,” you’re not mad now. just heartbroken. “look, i didn’t think i was this far gone but i guess i am. and you’re still so fucking dense, dude. i’m in love with you but i can’t tell you that without crying like this because i’m your stupid best friend and- and just, ugh, just leave me alone right now and i’ll apologize later. please.”
hueningkai’s breath hitches, mind in chaos as he processes your words. it’s only when your hands push him toward the door of the bathroom that he springs into action.
“y/n! what the fuck is wrong with you?”
the words come out without the context of the 19 years’ worth of love he’s harbored for you so now you’re just crying harder.
“wait, no! no! i mean, i’m in love with you. i love you more than you could imagine, you literal dumbass. and you’re dense for not getting anything right. subtle? natural? have you ever heard me using big words like that for anyone else? i love you, y/n, because you’re you and that’s that. fuck you for not interpreting my words correctly.”
“what?” you choke out, wiping your tears, “you’re- but? wait, but?”
hueningkai pulls you into a hug and now it’s just adrenaline speaking for him, “i’m in love with you, y/n. in. love. with. you. with you! in love! i love you! love, not platonically, but romantically! as in i’m into you. more than friends. more than best friends and definitely, more than bestest friends—”
“okay, okay!” you shout hoarsely, pulling him closer, “i think i get it now.”
he pulls away, “you think you get it? i’m in love with—”
“i get it! you love me!” with that, you’re pressing closer to him, lips touching his cheek. “i love you.”
“can you do that again? i don’t think i get it, honestly.”
you roll your eyes but he leans in closer, lips a breath away from yours. his ears are red now and he’s back to being shy. you chuckle, your hands taking his face in them delicately and you kiss him fully on the lips.
“thank god that finally happened,” a voice from outside speaks up. you jump up and hueningkai throws the door open.
“what the fuck, beomgyu? get out of here!!”
—
“you know,” you whisper into the skin of hueningkai’s neck later that night, “you have used bigger words.”
honestly speaking it takes hueningkai a minute to recover from your incessant kissing to understand what you’re saying. “what?”
“you literally called beomgyu ethereal! that’s a really big word, even for me!”
hueningkai pulls you back into him, lips finding yours, “i’m sorry but i’m always going to love beomgyu-hyung more than you, babe.”
you shiver at how low his voice his gotten, and kiss him back, “mhm, the feeling’s mutual then.”
it’s only when the two of you are panting after nearly an hour in the darkness that your words come back to him. he pulls at your arm, “hey, what do you mean, the feeling’s mutual?!”
