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#MO I LOVE THE LONG ASKS

leejihoonownsmyheart · 4 months

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BRIE TUMBLR DASH IS WORKING AGAINST ME. LIKE I LITERALLY DON'T EVEN SEE YOUR RESPONSES LIKE WTF IM SO SORRY IM LATE

obligatory 🤤 anon mention BECAUSE ILUUUUU AND I WILL FIND A TIME TO MENTALLY PREPARE MYSELF TO MAKE AN EMAIL FOR THE NEW IG. I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN...

DID MY BRAIN RIP OFF SOMETHING I'VE NEVER READ BEFORE. IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY FIC IDEAS BUT IF THEY DON'T WORK THEN FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THEM ??? and i will TOTALLY think of romcom shit to send to you because that's all i think about before bed

me when my day sucked but at least i have romantic scenarios before bed time

BRIE. BRIE. BRIE. 0% BRAT??? ZERO. PERCENT. WHAT? HOW.

I LOVE CATCHING FIRE AND NICO LOVERS WTF. we are meant to be actually. how do you feel about that

MY FAVORITE IN PJO?? book would def be the last olympian cuz it was fast paced (FAST? PACE? YOU'RE GOING TOO FAST BABY-) but for characters? idk. they didn't really flesh out that many characters and when the series did, i wasn't into any of them LMAO.. nico was definitely the closest to being MY type tho

ok do you want 1L pepto or 3L pepto 😃

hows ur man situation doing now tho...

IT'S OKAY DON'T APOLOGIZE!! MY ASKS ARE UNBEARABLY LONG SOMETIMES LOL <333

-chronic procrastinator 🫨 anon

TO BE FAIR I USUALLY RESPONDED TO MY ASKS LIKE ONCE EVERY TWO WEEKS SO TUMBLR IS PROBABLY JUST CONFUSED AF

ALSO?! YAYY!!! INSTAGRAM GC!!

romcomromcomromcom i love your ideas 🥰

I AM NTO A BRAT. I LISTEN TO WAIT IM TOLD. ZERO PERCENT CAUSE I WILL NOT ARGUE I ACT LIKE A BRAT SOMETIMES BUT TO PEOPLE WHO WOULD NEVVEERRR FUCK ME OKAY AND TO PEOPLE I LIKE I DO NOT ACT LIKE A BRAT THAT’S REAL- IM OBEDIENT OKAY HAHAHA

How do i feel about us being meant to be… devastated because you aren’t currently living with me like wtf is up with that

FAST PACED.

Although you know what, tbh i don’t think i had any crushes on any of the characters either? I really like Mr. Valdez though but im the of series… nico is so cute smh

3L PEPTO PLEASE IMMA DOWN IT

Oh uhm that guy at work who likes me? I don’t remember what all you know…

#MO I LOVE THE LONG ASKS #THEY ARE BEARABLY AND MUCH ENJOYEDLY LONG #b: 🫨 anon #YOUR SIGN OFFS ARE SO CUTE

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tennessoui · 2 months

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I was the Tattoine health care anon, and I was thinking more that Obi-Wan gives Luke to Owen and then goes off on some sort of vaguely suicidal Robin Hood bender, which he only survives because a large portion of Tattoine is down with (1) crime (2) killing Hutts (3) lying about the first two. All of which obviously makes Obi-Wan even sadder. Just a depressed little man thinking he made dinner in a fugue, when really there's a neighborhood meal chart for feeding him.

(in reference to this ask!)

ah hello!! thanks so much for this addition 🤩 i do love a trainwreck of a kenobi being carefully and subtly cared for by those around him - it's one of my favorite elements of my lumberjack anakin au where obi-wan is grieving in small town alaska and the town sorta rallies around making sure this old man is kept fed and warm

though this has much more violence and crime which is always a plus in my mind!

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tbgkaru-woh · 1 year

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Heyyyy I read through your chengxuan comic "Pride of Jin" and I loved it!! Just wondering if you have any thoughts as to what happens after chapter 10 when wwx is resurrected?

hey, glad you liked it! I always have thoughts, many thoughts! I actually wanted to do an epilogue comics but didn't find the time/energy for that specific thing. Whether it's fair, good or bad, the endings for all characters got changed majorly: JGY gets to leave with his mom's ashes and SMS (Su Minshan) accompanies him on his travels to somewhere where JGY won't be recognized and can start a new life LXC learned about NMJ and JGY in a less stressful situation, in a situation where JGY was no longer in the picture to twist the knife that true stabbed in him, but instead of brooding solitute, he reverts to less healthy coping mechanism - feeling so guilty for not trusting NMJ regarding JGY, he wishes for nothing more than to be able to fix this mistake. goal that aligns with NHS's, who shares that WWX "owes him" bringing NMJ back. WWX doesn't want anything to do with that life again, but NHS finds a big appeal in it and WWX basically teaches NHS ways around demonic cultivation, just so NHS can get his brother back. NMJ gets "brought back" but isn't as controllable as he should be, NHS keeps NMJ in chains but keeps him close, dressed up with his hair styled again, always by his side as he leads the Nie clan in a way where it's less him being part of any events and more in the "don't fuck with Nies, we literally have feral fierce corpses". WWX, JC and LXC are the only ones allowed inside the walls, LXC visits often to play soothing music to NMJ and talks to him, trying to bring the "human" part of him back. WWX and LWJ still get together but it doesn't leave LXC alone, jgy dead and yi city boys destroyed so i call that a win. didn't have many thoughts on their endgame though. and Yi City, i couldn't decide if i'd give xue yang the ability to have both song lan and xiao xingchen by his side as fierce corpses, OR if i'd still have him try and bring XXC back as SL is loyaly by his side as a fierce corpse without wangxian ever interrupting, OR if i'd have Song Lan never find XY and XXC and they'd continue living in their bliss (and i don't want to think of the tragedy i'd throw Song Lan's way to make that be the case :') ) JC and JZX still each have their sect but they have a publicly acknowledged bond/allyship where they may as well work as a unit. JZX finally rules the proud Jins in a respectable way and the Jiangs are stronger than ever under JC's leadership, to the point where Yunmeng becomes the prefered location for new disciples to enlist. JC gets the validation he deserves without being in WWX's shadow and JZX finally turns anew leaf on Jin's-not-so-great track record. And the Juniors, i'd love to explore their together times during studies, not unlike the main characters in their Gusu days, until eventually, i will do a timeskip with them all grown up, causing both mayhem but also being the heroes no one asked for but we all deserve, this DND adventuring group

#this is long i apologize #please feel free to ask thoughts or headcanons on any ship or scenario i LOVE doing these #hcs #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #the untamed #pride of jin #chengxuan #suyao #nielan

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nejackdaw · 4 months

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Nine Five people you'd like to know better

Tagged by @thana-topsy Hi lol 👋 wasn't expecting this (/lh)

[3 Ships]

1) Celann and Charlotte. (holding them in my hands) my babies. I love they

2) I'll honestly just put it out there, Chriscariot. That album rewired my brain. The absolute gay yearning. Did you guys know about the Gospel of Judas. I've been so normal on Tumblr. Not in real life. Not in the slightest. Bible fandom has some fun stuff

3) the Mo/Resa/Dustfinger/Roxanne polycule. I am correct.

[First Ship]

I actually think that's gonna have to be Zuko/Sokka. Except I was unaware of what shipping was at the time because I was young and offline. I did think they should go out tho.

[Last Song]

Funeral Derangements (Ice Nine Kills.) Honestly surprised it wasn't something off the Judas album

[Currently Reading]

Inkheart. Again. Yes I finished the series and turned right around and started it again. I did finish The man Born to be King last night tho. Haven't seen the original JCS but yeah. That Judas and 2012 Arena Tour Judas 🤝

[Last Film]

..... Highlander.... I caught a glimpse of it a while ago and there was this cunty old man. I immediately called Bread over and well. There was not as much of him in the film as we hoped. What did we watch (hello??? Plot??? Please???) That goth guy was having the time of his life tho honestly good for him. What a bizarre experience.

[Currently Craving]

The arrival of the books I ordered. I'm gonna be so real. I am so impatient for them to arrive. Even ignoring the fact that Mortimer (my darling little blue jay plush) is being shipped to God knows where (it's Rhode Island. I feel it in my bones that for some reason another package has been redirected to Rhode Island.) Other than that, uh... draw juice. Would like to draw thing

[Tags]

Gonna tag @argisthebulwark @fabeong @greeneyed-thestral @forpiratereasons and @snake-snack-stede my beloved mutuals 🌹 hi guys :)

#asks #as someone who also has a lil skyrim guy: love to see it #love seeing your art too the style is so nice #anyway uh #yall i am so unwell about judas. can you tell #fucking deranged #i am once again saying if any of you like gothic metal that you should listen to the lord of the lost judas album #like im probably about to while i wait for my books #and MORTIMER #who i SWEAR has GOT to be headed to RHODE ISLAND #if i had two nickels etc etc #theres not much inkheart merch so YES i bought a blue jau plush and named him mo #genius move #the unfortunate curse of liking obscure 2000s book series #(head in my hands) yall i still need to make my celann thoughts coherent so i can share them its kinda killing me #forgot to add #tag game #okay ive stared at this long enough. forget the mortifying ordeal of being known. fuck it we post

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grapesey · 2 years

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A Guide on How to (not) Have a Secret Relationship

a story of pure fluff about wwx and lwj being in a relationship during the cr era and wwx realizing that, no matter how shamelessly he acted around lwj, no one would suspect a thing. and so, he takes it as a challenge. inspired by this tweet

you can also find it on ao3

~○~○~

The first time they’d almost gotten caught had given Wei Wuxian quite the scare.

He’d been hanging on to Lan Wangji’s arm, pressed into his side, chattering his ear off about something mindless as they strolled from the Library Pavilion at the end of the day. Lan Wangji had been too cruel, ignoring him entirely until he’d finished all his copying, which, Lan Wangji should know by now, was a horrible, horrible punishment! How was Wei Wuxian meant to survive under such conditions!? Alas, he’d persisted, and, eventually, all his pages were filled.

He’d gotten a hum of approval at that with the slightest of nods and all the strenuous hours had become completely worth it. It was a bit ridiculous how much control Lan Wangji’s miniscule reactions had on him. He’d forfeit food and sleep and do nothing but write for days if, by the end of it, he’d be rewarded with a single smile.

Oh, he absolutely couldn’t let Lan Wangji find that out. Wei Wuxian enjoyed keeping up his image as an unruly menace, untamable by anyone, thank you very much! If Lan Wangji ever realized his crux, that would spell out horrors for his carefully worked-on reputation.

In any case, they’d done their work and Wei Wuxian was more than ready to retire to the dormitory where his friends waited for him. Before that, though, he’d take any opportunity he could get to be as close to Lan Wangji as possible, as every second spent in his company was a second well-spent. Even the ones where he was determined to make Wei Wuxian suffer into submission with his lack of attention. Seriously, they had hours to themselves, alone, where no one ever bothered them! Wei Wuxian could come up with a million different ways they could spend that time, each more fun than the last, but Lan Wangji would have none of it. Something about it being ‘inappropriate’ and ‘Wei Ying needed to complete his punishment’ or whatever. A real stick-in-the-mud, if you asked him.

As if any of that had been an issue that one time. When Wei Wuxian had brought it up, though, he’d thought he’d choke from how intense, if short, the silencing spell was. So, he’d kept quiet about it from then on, keeping the memory of Lan Wangji’s horribly flustered face as his compensation.

A wicked thought had sprung to Wei Wuxian’s mind on their walk and he’d leaned in closer, grinning as he purred it into Lan Wangji’s ear, watching with delight as the tip of it colored that adorable pink. He’d almost given his cheek a peck, then, when they rounded some bushes and all but ran into two guest disciples.

Wei Wuxian could have sworn his heart stopped right then and there.

And so there were the four of them, all frozen in their tracks, as the guest disciples (Wei Wuxian for the life of him couldn’t remember their names now) stared at him incredulously, his brows all but disappearing into their hairline. No doubt he made for quite the sight, all squashed up against Lan Wangji, his face a breath away from his skin. Their eyes then flickered to Lan Wangji, and, comically quick, all blood drained from their faces. Wei Wuxian barely blinked before the two scampered away, whispering something to each other.

Mildly surprised with his heart still pounding against his chest, Wei Wuxian leaned back to glance at Lan Wangji, to assess how worried they should be right now. What he found, instead, was a scowl so murderous it was truly a wonder how anyone witnessing it wouldn’t drop dead upon first sight. Wei Wuxian laughed, then, shaking his head.

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, you probably frightened those poor disciples half to death with such a scary face!” he said as they continued walking. “I’d be surprised if they went on to tell anyone about what they saw after that.”

“Mn.” Was Lan Wangji’s only response as his face gradually returned to its neutral state.

Well, if Lan Wangji didn’t look worried, Wei Wuxian wouldn’t, either. Satisfied, he relaxed and continued his rambling. That is, until he noticed a frown etching in between his brows, the corners of his lips turning down just so. It was less anxious and more… dissatisfied, though, so Wei Wuxian wracked his brain for a few moments to figure out the cause. Then, as if a match struck, he realized he hadn’t gone through with what he’d meant to do before they were interrupted, had he?

With a coy smile, he sneaked one of his arms from Lan Wangji’s to his neck, winding around and bringing their heads closer. “Ah, Lan-er-gege, if you want a kiss, you can just say so,” he said before pressing his lips to his cheek, letting them linger before landing another kiss on his jaw, then under it, until he reached his pulse point, grinning against the delicate skin there. The only indication of this affecting Lan Wangji in any way was his quickened heartbeat and Wei Wuxian took great pleasure in feeling it against his lips.

Perhaps he was being far too bold, especially after what had just happened, but it was difficult to find it in himself to care in the moment. Even more so when Lan Wangji’s breath hitched and he grabbed Wei Wuxian by his arm, dragging him off the path behind some thicker shrubbery, Wei Wuxian’s laughter following.

When they finally parted ways, it was quickly approaching Hai. Still smiling and mildly flushed, a spring in his step, Wei Wuxian entered the dormitory, already anticipating the next day. His thoughts were quickly interrupted, though, by Nie Huaisang filling his vision.

“Wei-xiong!” he fretted, eyes full of concern, clutching at his fan. “Are you alright?”

Wei Wuxian stared at him, puzzled. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, really?” Surprise crossed Nie Huaisang’s face. “We heard Lan Wangji looked ready to kill you a while ago…”

“You won’t find me mourning when he finally does,” Jiang Cheng, the sweet soul, said, scowling, arms crossed. “Seriously, what do you think you’re doing, courting death like that?”

It took Wei Wuxian a few beats to understand what they were talking about. When he finally did, he couldn’t help breaking out into laughter, head thrown back. Oh, so those two disciples did talk, but they’d entirely misunderstood what was happening. To them, it probably looked like he was harassing Lan Wangji, his fierce glare a response to that. Well, he’d take that interpretation over the real one any time!

“Oh, Lan Zhan would never, he’s too nice to do that,” he said, grinning. “I think I’m growing on him.”

Of course, who would believe the Second Twin Jade would ever get involved with the troublemaker Wei Wuxian? Never had he thought his infamous reputation would work so well in his favor now.

Jiang Cheng scoffed at him, “Are you an idiot? You better stop harassing him before you get your bones broken. I won’t help you out of the ditch then.”

“Yes, you will,” Wei Wuxian said, shooting him an award-winning smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re braver than any of us, Wei-xiong,” Nie Huaisang sighed.

“He’s brainless is what he is.”

Wei Wuxian let Jiang Cheng simmer in his irritation, waving their concerns off, content to know their secret was still a secret. Even if Wei Wuxian got more adjectives out of it.

The second time it happened it still startled him, but much less.

They were in the Library Pavilion where Wei Wuxian was meant to continue his punishment. Keyword ‘meant’, as he was, once again, distracted, his brush laying beside a half-finished page as he played with Lan Wangji’s hair. Could he be blamed, with how silky and glossy and fun to twirl around between his fingers it was? Lan Wangji didn’t admonish him, either—he had a sneaking suspicion he enjoyed having his hair toyed with by Wei Wuxian quite a bit. He only continued copying his own text, allowing Wei Wuxian to have his way just this once.

“A braid would look so good on you, Lan Zhan,” he said, carding through the long locks. “Can I? Just a small one?”

Lan Wangji glanced at him then. “It is not the proper way to wear one’s hair.”

Wei Wuxian sighed, long and dramatic, “You’re so boring, Lan Zhan. C’mon, no one would see it, I’d hide it really well.” He put his hands together, pulling his best pleading face. “Please, Lan-er-gege? If you won’t like it, I’ll take it out.”

Lan Wangji only stared at him for a while longer before looking back to his text, resuming his strokes. It wasn’t a no, so Wei Wuxian took it as permission. Grinning, he found a lock that was sure to not catch any attention and got to work. Taking extra care to weave it as neatly as possible, he slowly worked down, humming a joyful melody to himself. Already he could tell it would look gorgeous on Lan Wangji.

It was then that one of the Lan disciples entered the library, a rare occurrence during this time of day. He froze in the threshold, staring at where Wei Wuxian had his hands in Lan Wangji’s hair. Heavy silence settled in the room before Wei Wuxian shook out of his stupor and beamed, boldness surging.

“Lan Zhan has such pretty hair, doesn’t he?” he chirped.

The disciple blinked in confusion, glancing from him to Lan Wangji, and whatever he saw there made him stutter out, “A-ah, yes, I suppose… Excuse me.”

He scurried off farther into the room, disappearing in between the shelves. Wei Wuxian waited, patient, for him to reemerge with some book. He cast another incredulous look Wei Wuxian’s way before swiftly leaving the library.

His reputation was sure to take another hit after this, too. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, they all think I’m harassing you, you know,” he said, amused, resuming his braiding. “You should break my finger or two to make it more believable.”

Lan Wangji furrowed his brows, a protest already on his lips, but Wei Wuxian beat him to it, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! How would I be able to finish my punishment with broken fingers?” He grinned. “You wouldn’t want that to happen. It’d be horrible if we had to spend more time together while I recovered.”

“I’m not breaking Wei Ying’s fingers,” he finally said.

“I know. You’re too serious sometimes,” Wei Wuxian sighed. “But really. I don’t think any of them would actually suspect anything, no matter how in their face we were. It’s kind of funny, actually.”

And then, he got an idea. It rarely meant good things when Wei Wuxian got an idea. This time was no different, and yet, now that he had it, he couldn’t let it go.

Oh, that could be so fun.

“Hey, Lan Zhan,” he sang, swaying from side to side, still focused on the braid. He was almost done by then. “How much do you think I could get away with?”

He could feel Lan Wangji’s questioning eyes on him.

“I kind of want to find out.”

“That… would be irresponsible.”

“It would!” Wei Wuxian laughed. “But consider how funny it’d be, freaking them all out. I’d be careful around your uncle, of course. I don’t want to get thrown out so soon,” he chuckled. He lifted his gaze to meet Lan Wangji’s. “It’s actually not that bad here.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes softened at that, a rare, fascinating sort of thing, before he turned his attention back to his text, robbing Wei Wuxian of the privilege of their attention.

In a few moments’ time, the braid was finished. Beaming, he held it up for Lan Wangji to see, asking for his opinion. When Lan Wangji just stared at the delicate little thing woven into his hair, not saying anything, Wei Wuxian sighed and asked if he wanted to take it out.

“Leave it,” Lan Wangji said, quiet.

And so Wei Wuxian did, all too delighted with himself.

At the start, Wei Wuxian didn’t do anything particularly outrageous. Only to test the waters, as it were. Nothing too out of the ordinary for his flirty reputation.

“Lan Zhan, you’re so beautiful today!”

“Did you see how precisely he moved with his sword? Lan Zhan’s incredible!”

“Lan Zhan, your hands are so pretty!”

“I bet Lan Zhan has the sweetest smile.”

“Lan Zhan’s music could make me cry with how heavenly it is!”

Mostly, his gushing regardless of time and place only served to annoy Jiang Cheng. Others would throw him odd glances, occasionally agreeing with the sentiment, but only when Lan Wangji wasn’t around. If he was, they’d cautiously look between the two, almost expecting something to happen. Nothing ever did, of course. Nothing they would notice—Wei Wuxian took great satisfaction in seeing his ears flush just so when a particular compliment got to him.

One time, he was feeling particularly audacious. After going through some fight routines, a few disciples engaged in practical matches while the others observed. When Lan Wangji stood victorious having barely broken a sweat, Wei Wuxian sighed in adoration, clasping his hands in front of him.

“Ah, my Lan Zhan’s the best, isn’t he?” he swooned, a bit louder than necessary.

Jiang Cheng immediately swirled around to him and hit the back of his head, hissing, “Watch your damn mouth, you idiot!”

Laughing as he rubbed the sore spot, Wei Wuxian didn’t miss the glare Lan Wangji sent in their direction. Whether intentionally or not, he played his part perfectly—everyone would assume he was scowling at the outrageous comment Wei Wuxian made, but their eyes didn’t meet. Instead, they were fixated on Jiang Cheng on his right. In fact, Jiang Cheng, too, was indispensable in Wei Wuxian’s scheme—whenever Wei Wuxian said something shameless, Jiang Cheng would react with irritation, and Lan Wangji would, in turn, glower at him. And since Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were more often than not by each other’s side, it was easy to mistake the glares’ intended recipient.

It was too easy.

And so, soon enough, Wei Wuxian stepped up his game.

(Although, he would say, sometimes his comments would lead to unexpectedly exciting things. The one from the fights in particular earned him a heated session in the jingshi under the blanket of the night, with hushed words of ‘yours, mine’ exchanged between their shared breaths. So, he didn’t exactly complain.)

He started stealing touches here and there. A tug on Lan Wangji’s arm. A quick hug around his shoulders. Picking fallen leaves from his hair. Playing with his hair. It was widely known, or believed, that the Second Twin Jade hated physical contact, so the bemused looks Wei Wuxian would get from his compliments turned to concerned and bewildered ones once he started invading Lan Wangji’s space more and more. It was hilarious, the way their eyes would grow in shock when he would brush a stray strand from Lan Wangji’s face, entirely unworried for what fate his shameful hand could meet.

Once during class, he thought he could push the ‘shameless’ accusation a bit more still. And so, when Lan Qiren had his back turned, he twirled around to face Lan Wangji and, with many eyes on him, Lan Wangji’s included, blew him a kiss.

The entire room held a collective breath as they waited for Lan Wangji to react because, surely, this time Wei Wuxian had gone too far. To everyone’s shock, though no one’s as strong as Wei Wuxian’s, Lan Wangji… caught it. And then, entirely unperturbed, he turned back to the front of the class, once more a dutiful student.

It took a lot for Wei Wuxian not to break out into laughter then and there.

Luckily for both of them, this incident quickly got explained away by ‘Lan Wangji crushing his advances without even sparing Wei Wuxian a thought’ and similar notions. Wei Wuxian truly was having the time of his life.

At some point, the rumors got split. Some claimed Wei Wuxian was only teasing Lan Wangji because he was a menace who enjoyed living on the edge, while others began speculating perhaps he’d genuinely fallen for the cool and unapproachable Twin Jade. The second group pitied him and sighed in sympathy at Lan Wangji’s cold responses, some urging him to just give up already before his heart got broken. He’d only smile at them and proclaim, far too dramatically, his love wasn’t that easily extinguished. The first group could do nothing more than pray he’d have a peaceful afterlife.

Wei Wuxian knew they were all wondering how Lan Wangji wasn’t beating him into the ground by now. How was he even allowing any of these transgressions. None of them voiced it, though; surely, he had his reasons, and, surely, questioning them could spell their own end. Nie Huaisang did, on occasion, but Wei Wuxian laughed it off easily.

“He probably likes me and is too shy to admit it!”

That earned him another smack from Jiang Cheng, and he’d feel bad about causing his shidi so much distress if it wasn’t so entertaining.

One evening as he was laying in Lan Wangji’s lap in the jingshi, eyes closed in contentment as Lan Wangji absentmindedly stroked his hair, his attention on the book he was reading, Wei Wuxian had a thought about the reason, too.

“You know, Lan Zhan, I’m a bit surprised you haven’t told me off,” he said, breaking the tranquil silence. “I’m acting really irresponsible, aren’t I?”

“Mn,” he hummed.

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes to look up at him, a cheeky smile on his lips. “Lan-er-gege, could it be that you like the attention?”

Lan Wangji glanced down at him, though didn’t answer. Wei Wuxian caught a lock of his silky hair and twirled it around his fingers. “Does my Lan Zhan like it when I’m being so shameless?” He traveled his hand up to Lan Wangji’s jaw, stroking it with his fingertips, feather-light. “Does he like it when I let everyone know how much I adore him?”

With his thumb, he pulled at Lan Wangji’s lower lip, just a bit, just because he could. Lan Wangji, with his eyes all but glowing, turned his head down and pressed a kiss against his palm, gentle, but scorching, and Wei Wuxian could have sworn his face erupted in flames. How, even after everything, Lan Wangji could fluster him so easily was beyond him.

Lan Wangji properly bent down then, his dark hair cascading around them, creating a little space separated from the rest of the world. Wei Wuxian, grinning, shifted his arm so it’d wrap around his neck and brought him closer, as much as their positions would allow, lifting his head up just enough to seal their lips. Soft and slow, Lan Wangji moved against him, despite the odd angle, and if Wei Wuxian died right then and there, he’d be content. What more could life offer, really?

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’,” he murmured between breaths.

“Wei Ying talks too much,” Lan Wangji responded, voice low and rough.

Wei Wuxian giggled, breaking the kiss off as he shifted his position, sitting up and sliding into Lan Wangji’s lap, arms wound around his neck. Lan Wangji settled his hands on Wei Wuxian’s hips, pressing into them with obvious intent. A shudder was already building in his bones as he leaned in.

“Yeah?” he said, his breath ghosting Lan Wangji’s lips. “Make me stop then, er-gege.”

One morning, Wei Wuxian got a sick, sick idea.

Lan Wangji had multiple sets of robes. He didn’t need all of them at the same time. So, would it really be that bad if Wei Wuxian borrowed one on their rest day when Lan Qiren was away (he’d rather not give the man such an early qi deviation)? Okay, maybe not all the layers, but at least the outer one?

It’d be his greatest transgression yet.

When Wei Wuxian showed his plan off, twirling around in front of Lan Wangji in his own robe, he was thrilled to see the stutter of breath, the way the bright gold darkened before he tore his eyes away, his throat bobbing. He should have worn Lan Wangji’s garments sooner.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, what do you think?” he asked, all smiles and giggles.

Lan Wangji took a slow, calming breath, before speaking, voice quiet, head still turned to the side, “Wei Ying looks… good.”

Heart fluttering, Wei Wuxian hopped over to Lan Wangji and hung around his neck, lightly swaying their bodies.

“Hey, er-gege, play with me today?” he hummed. “If you catch me, you’ll get a prize.”

Lan Wangji wrapped his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist, bringing him closer. “Running is prohibited in Cloud Recesses.”

“So is wearing the Lan family clothing without belonging to it,” he grinned in response before dropping his voice to a low thrum. “What will it be, oh mighty Lan Wangji? Will you let this unruly one go unpunished? How will you, if you don’t catch him?”

The hold around his body tightened. Lan Wangji’s lips parted a minuscule amount, his lids drooping as he leaned in. Wei Wuxian could taste his breath, only a hair’s width separating them, but before that final distance closed, he twisted out of Lan Wangji’s hold with a laugh.

“Nope! You’ll have to play with me first!” he declared as he jumped out of Lan Wangji’s instinctual grab for him. “No kisses until you catch me!”

Cackling, he fled the jingshi without bothering to look back.

Though it was still early in the morning, many of the disciples were already out and about. He paid their bewildered glances no mind as he dashed past them, focused on putting his head start to good use. He didn’t actually believe Lan Wangji would chase after him just like that; he still had a reputation to uphold, but best to put some distance between them regardless.

It wasn’t long before he found Jiang Cheng, Nie Huaisang and a few other guest disciples skipping rocks on one of the bridges, seeing who can make theirs go the farthest. Wei Wuxian slowed to a stop by them, leaning against the railing to catch his breath. Jiang Cheng was already throwing him suspicious glances.

“What did you get into this time?” he asked, letting his rock fly. It went farther than his last one did.

“Aiyah, Jiang Cheng, you always assume the worst of me,” Wei Wuxian complained, smoothing some of the crinkles from the garment. He was determined to return it to Lan Wangji in the same pristine condition he got it in, though how well that would go remained to be seen.

He frowned at him. “So, what, you’re saying you didn’t get into some stupid trouble again?”

“Ah, well…” Wei Wuxian chuckled, a bit awkward, but before he could say anything else Nie Huaisang gasped, his hand flying to his mouth.

“Wei-xiong!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with shock. “Are those Lan Wangji’s robes!?”

“Oh, you noticed!” Wei Wuxian laughed in delight, giving his incredulous audience a little spin. “They suit me pretty well, don’t you think?”

The speed at which Jiang Cheng’s face changed colors couldn’t be healthy for his heart. The other disciples only looked upon him in varying degrees of horror, some already taking steps away as if by proximity alone they’d be incriminated as well.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng growled, dangerously red. “Do you seriously wish to die that badly!?”

Nie Huaisang waved his fan against his flushed face, caught between marvel and distress. “Wei-xiong, even for you, stealing another man’s clothes… Not just any man’s, Lan Wangji’s! If he sees you like this, oh, I’m scared to even think about it!”

“Then don’t,” Wei Wuxian beamed. “Besides, as long as he doesn’t catch me, I’ll be fine!”

“Why do you insist on harassing him so much!?” Jiang Cheng barked. “Mark my words, Wei Wuxian, when he aims his sword at your throat, I won’t stand in its way!”

“Ah, ah, Jiang Cheng, how could you be so cruel to your shixiong?”

Whatever insult was bound to be thrown at him next was cut off by one of the disciples yelping, their frightened eyes fixed somewhere over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. Quickly, he followed their line of sight, only to see the unmistakable form of Lan Wangji emerging from below the hill, his pace brisk, face set into hard lines. How did he catch up so fast without running!?

“Oh, that’s not good,” Wei Wuxian giggled, high-pitched, and ducked behind the small group of students. “I’m not here!”

The disciples all exchanged glances before moving away from him as one, leaving him exposed in the middle of the bridge. Wei Wuxian gasped in mock hurt.

“Jiang Cheng, Nie-xiong, even you!?”

“It’s about time you pay for your nonsense,” Jiang Cheng snapped, arms crossed.

“Sorry, Wei-xiong, Lan Wangji is already scary, but when he’s angry…” Nie Huaisang shivered, fanning himself faster. “Maybe if you gave him back his robe now he’d show mercy?..”

“He wouldn’t deserve it.”

As much as Wei Wuxian would love to stand around and chat, Lan Wangji wasn’t slowing down, so he was forced to start backing away. “To think you’d abandon me so quickly!..” He sighed, much too dramatic. “Pray for me, then, at least that!”

Without waiting around for a, no doubt, biting response, he turned on his heel and sprinted in the other direction.

As much as he enjoyed freaking the other disciples out, he did actually want Lan Wangji to properly chase him. To really get him riled up. He’d never let himself go so close to Cloud Recesses, and so, Wei Wuxian led him away, towards the mountains and scattered forests. He allowed himself to get lost in it, in the thrill, and imagined he truly was on the run from something dangerous, that if he didn’t get away, he’d get eaten.

It only made the blood in his veins pump harder, growing hot, the grin on his lips bordering on delirious. He did love a good chase.

This far away, he could indulge in it.

Or, at least, that was what he’d thought, until he emerged to a path, intending to cross it, and spotted, to his fright, Lan Xichen descending the mountain. It was too late for him to try and hide as their eyes met immediately and so he screeched to a halt, panting, and dropped into a bow.

“Zewu-jun,” he greeted, the word a bit too breathy.

“Wei-gongzi, I didn’t expect to find you here so far away,” Lan Xichen responded in that smooth voice of his, the ever-present polite smile gracing his lips. He walked towards him until a more comfortable distance separated them.

Wei Wuxian straightened, pulling what he hoped to be a non-suspicious grin in turn. “Ah, yes, I wanted to explore the area a bit more! It’s very beautiful out here.”

“Indeed it is,” he said, nodding. His eyes regarded him more carefully, from his tousled hair, puffy breaths, to the robe he was donning, his brows lifting in mild surprise. It was then that Wei Wuxian remembered why he’d been running in the first place and mortification seized him. Heat quickly rose up his neck to his face, and his smile now no doubt looked less convincing.

While acting shamelessly around his peers was amusing to no end, he had no idea how Lan Xichen, the esteemed Zewu-jun, would react to such behavior, especially when directed at his beloved brother. And this, dressing up in Lan Wangji’s clothing, certainly had to cross… some line. Cold sweat broke out across his heated back—would Lan Xichen admonish him? Report him to Lan Qiren, all but ensuring either weeks of punishment or an expulsion? Or would he wait to see what Lan Wangji would decide what to do with him?

To his great surprise, Lan Xichen did none of those things. Instead, his polite smile turned genuine, one that reached his eyes, as he said, “I’m glad to see you and Wangji are getting along.”

Wei Wuxian, in his shock, had to take a few seconds to regain his ability to speak.

“A-Ah, ah, yeah! Yeah, Lan Zhan, he’s…” he stammered, words tripping over each other both in his mouth and his head. He did, however, manage to beam at him. “Lan Zhan’s the best.”

Lan Xichen chuckled, “I’m sure he shares the sentiment towards you as well.”

And with that, he nodded, and resumed his walk, entirely unconcerned of the state he’d left Wei Wuxian in. Now his face was burning for an entirely different reason, and he couldn’t stop smiling, suddenly too giddy to stay in one place. It was something hugely relieving, knowing that Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji’s closest family, didn’t… oppose whatever he thought was going on between them. If anything, he sounded almost approving. Which was insane to think about! Sure, he’d never gotten the notion Lan Xichen disliked him, necessarily, but it was an entirely different matter for him to accept Wei Wuxian. Perhaps he didn’t realize the extent of their relationship, not yet, but it sure was reassuring.

Somehow… Lan Xichen as much as suspecting something, and looking happy, approving, welcoming about it—it made whatever he and Lan Wangji had more real.

Wei Wuxian got a bit dizzy thinking about it.

He must have stood there, in the middle of the path, like an idiot for a good while before a soft shuffling from behind caught his attention, making him barrel straight back to reality. He whipped around to find Lan Wangji only a few paces away, scaring the hell out of him. With a very dignified yelp, Wei Wuxian took off, scrambling for his dear life. Unfortunately, with how disheveled his mind still was, heart all the way up in his throat, his body worked against him and it took only a short while for Lan Wangji to catch up with him. At that point, however, he couldn’t find it in himself to mind that much.

Lan Wangji grasped at the back of his robe, intending to yank him back, but Wei Wuxian chose that moment to trip over the forest floor, sending both of them tumbling down onto each other. Swiftly, Lan Wangji flipped them around so that Wei Wuxian was on his back with Lan Wangji on top, pinning him to the ground with his legs. Wei Wuxian tried to push him off but Lan Wangji caught his wrists and held them down above his head, effectively immobilizing him.

And so, Wei Wuxian resorted to screaming.

“Lan Wangji! So ill-mannered, unhand me immediately!” he wailed, thrashing in Lan Wangji’s hold, to no avail. “This is assault, don’t you know!? What will the people think? Who would believe it that the virtuous Lan Wangji could be such a brute! Oh, what will they—”

He didn’t get to finish his complaint as he found his mouth full of Lan Wangji’s. Caught mid-word, he’d left it open for the taking, and Lan Wangji didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity. Fast and needy, he barely gave Wei Wuxian room to breathe, and he struggled to match Lan Wangji’s pace, for more reasons than one. One after another, Lan Wangji pulled small noises from Wei Wuxian’s throat, desperate, breathy sounds, catching them all. He pushed deeper, as much as it was possible to go, and Wei Wuxian thought he could drown like this. Somehow, despite long since losing count of how much they’d kissed, every time still felt like the first one. If not in quality, as Lan Wangji was a faster learner than even Wei Wuxian, then certainly in feeling, with how hard his chest pounded, how scorching heat spread all the way to his fingertips, how all points of skin contact tingled with sharp energy. Wei Wuxian tugged at his arms, yearning to bury them in Lan Wangji’s hair, pull him closer, but Lan Wangji’s grip was unrelenting. If anything, his fingers dug into Wei Wuxian’s wrists harder, and he hoped it’d leave marks.

When Lan Wangji was satisfied with the writhing mess he’d reduced Wei Wuxian to, he pulled back with a bite on Wei Wuxian’s lower lip, just enough for them to share the air.

“Causing noise is prohibited,” Lan Wangji murmured, his lips brushing over Wei Wuxian’s as they moved.

Wei Wuxian didn’t remind him they were just out of the bounds of Cloud Recesses, so that didn’t apply here. He only stared up, dazed, trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah, well,” he exhaled. “I wouldn’t have screamed if you didn’t tackle me to the ground, you know.”

Lan Wangji dragged his lips from Wei Wuxian’s to his jaw. “Running is prohibited.”

Giggles rose in Wei Wuxian’s throat, ones that were quickly replaced by quiet gasps as Lan Wangji moved to the junction of his jaw and neck and nipped on the sensitive skin there. Wei Wuxian turned his head to the side, inviting him in, letting all the small, whiny noises bubble up as Lan Wangji traveled down at an agonizing pace. So gentle now, only a graze of his teeth, a flick of his tongue, a stark contrast to the way he ravaged Wei Wuxian’s mouth just moments prior.

“What else, Lan-er-gege?” he mumbled, words running off without his will. “What else?”

Lan Wangji hummed against his neck, “Excessive exultation is prohibited.”

Wei Wuxian, the devil that he was, laughed. “Oh, c’mon, Lan Zhan, even you have to admit that one’s just stupid.”

He didn’t get a response. Instead, Lan Wangji gathered his wrists in one hand, holding them down with ease, as the other ran up and down Wei Wuxian’s side, catching on the robe.

“Shameless behavior…” he started, low and rough, “is prohibited.”

Wei Wuxian exhaled, a shaky sort of thing, as he tried, his head spinning, “I don’t think I’m the one being shameless here, er-gege.” Then, a thought struck him, and his lips curled into a grin. “Or… are you talking about me wearing your clothes?”

Lan Wangji lifted his head to look down at Wei Wuxian, his light eyes now darkened, the intensity of his stare burning right to Wei Wuxian’s soul. He swallowed, his heart fluttering in his throat, and he pulled on his wrists once more.

“Lan-er-gege, please,” he pleaded. “Let me hold you.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment, but his gaze then melted and he eased his vice grip. Wei Wuxian slipped his arms out and wrapped them around his neck, burying his hands in his hair, thrilled to finally be able to twirl it between his fingers.

“Do you like it, Lan Zhan?” he whispered, tracing one lock down until he reached the side of his face. “Seeing me in your robes?” He smiled, then, cradling his cheek, running his thumb over the skin below his eye. “I think they suit me. I’d wear it all the time if it didn’t risk giving your uncle a qi deviation,” he sighed, a little melodramatic.

Lan Wangji’s hand on his side slowed to a stop then, his eyes turning somewhat conflicted. Wei Wuxian scrunched his face up in confusion. “What?”

“It…” Lan Wangji started, uncharacteristically hesitant. “...wouldn’t be an issue… if one was part of the Lan family.”

Wei Wuxian stared up at him in complete silence. The more he gaped, the more nervous Lan Wangji grew, before finally he shook his head. “Forget—”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian cut him off, which he never did, but right now he could hardly think. His mind had screeched to a halt and he was having trouble remembering how his lungs were meant to work. “Did you just suggest I marry you?”

Lan Wangji, bless his soul, looked a bit ill. Then, he shut his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and steeled himself. When he reopened them again, they burned with renewed vigor. “Yes. If Wei Ying would have me.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help himself—he broke out into laughter. Gleeful, uncontrolled laughter. He shook with it so much that only due to Lan Wangji’s hold on him did he not start rolling around. Finally, when it settled enough for him to get a word in, he wiped a tear away before settling both of his hands on either side of Lan Wangji’s face.

“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan,” he sang, loving the way it sounded on his tongue. “But we’re so young! Do you really want to tie yourself down to me already? What if you get older and a beautiful maiden comes along that sweeps you off your feet? I can’t give you children, Lan Zhan, you know that.”

Lan Wangji’s beautiful face grew hard, lips setting into a firm line, and he shook his head. “I’ll never want anyone else. Only Wei Ying.”

“Those are some mighty words, Lan Zhan. Can I really hold you to them?”

“Mn. I do not lie.”

He giggled, a little delirious. A lot.

“What about your uncle? How would he ever agree?” he asked.

“He would eventually.”

“I think you underestimate how much he dislikes me,” he laughed. “Marrying off his precious nephew to the one stain on his teaching career? How could he!”

“I would convince him,” Lan Wangji declared, and just from the steely determination in his voice Wei Wuxian believed him.

“And Zewu-jun? What would he think?”

Lan Wangji frowned a little. “Brother believes it’s too soon,” he muttered.

It took Wei Wuxian a short while to register those words and the meaning behind them. When he did, he all but shrieked, “You’ve already told him about it!?”

No wonder Lan Xichen looked so unconcerned! Was there anything Lan Wangji didn’t share with his brother!?

“Did you not want him to know?” Lan Wangji asked, brows furrowing in concern.

“No, no! I just didn’t expect it!” Really, now he was even more embarrassed about before. “But he’s… he’s not against it?”

“No.” Lan Wangji turned his head to lay a kiss on one of Wei Wuxian’s palms. “He knows there is no one else for me but Wei Ying.” He looked down at him through his thick, black lashes. “My family will agree. But what does Wei Ying think?”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t take it anymore—he pulled Lan Wangji down and crashed his lips against his to show him exactly what he thought.

“Lan Zhan,” he sighed in between them, letting his fingers card through his hair, one hand settling on the back of Lan Wangji’s neck. The hold on his side tightened, strong enough to leave imprints even through all the layers of cloth. “My Lan Zhan. My beautiful, perfect Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji hummed, low and guttural, his claims on Wei Wuxian’s mouth never-ending. If they weren’t, Wei Wuxian thought he would die.

“Only Lan Zhan. I only want Lan Zhan,” he managed to murmur.

Lan Wangji drank his little whispers like a man dying from thirst, growing more enthusiastic by the moment to take what he had earned, what he was now promised.

A thought struck Wei Wuxian and he gasped, tugging Lan Wangji back.

"What is it?" Lan Wangji asked, worry lacing his voice.

"I just remembered!" Wei Wuxian said, breaking into a wide grin. "You won the game. Congratulations, Lan Zhan. You shall now receive your prize."

With that, he leaned up and pecked the tip of his nose. When he laid back down, Lan Wangji had a look in his eyes as he stared at Wei Wuxian which should only be reserved for the starriest of nights. Then, incredulously, so much so that Wei Wuxian believed his sight had to be deceiving him, his lips curled into a tiny, soft smile.

Reserved for him. Only for him.

Perhaps Wei Wuxian’s wild ideas weren’t always so bad.

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des-fangirl · 9 months

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i like how my telegram theme is all greeny and then when i get to pick a pfp to match it I BE LIKE. OMG LOOK AT THIS ART!! OR THIS!! OR THAAAT

and it all doesn't match the theme BUT I DONT CAAARE I GONNA SAVE ARTS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY AND THEN IM GONNA SEE THEM ACCIDENTALLY AND SAY 'WOAH GOOD ART!!'

#des-shitpost #ABOUT THEMES...#i wanna change my tumblr page for a long time now #(a month)#IT'S LONG #haha a mo(n)th!!! a moth #!!!#cant just get to drawing art for my tumblr page mehh #just idk what to draw maybe jellyfish..i love jellyfish #AND I LOVE HK #BAAM HK JELLYFISH. GOT IT!!! AHSBEH #oh damn i just thought about this..#i hope you don't mind me using your art as pfp gahh WHY DIDN'T I ASK FIRST

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malikselfindulgence · 7 months

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Psst hey what your opinion on macaque 👀

Not sure which of us you're asking [probably Malik ToT] but since I'm [Blaze] fronting rn I'll answer then let Malik answer once he's fronting :] !!

WHEREDO I BEGIN . He's such a fun character to pick at but everytime he showed up on screen all I could think was "what the fuck is wrong with him" . The way he speaks is so fucking funny to me he's like the type to say "No I wont" when you ask him to do something even though he is actively doing it . Scratch that actually you didnt even ask him to do it hes doing this of his own accord and shit-talking you the whole time. I heart him dearly and I will refuse to acknowledge my similarities to him because that requires a level of emotional maturity neither I nor Macaque possess

OK HELLO MALIK HER E!!! I like acting like Macaque did nothing wrong ever and is a saint because it pisses Blaze off in our swk vs mac arguments . The way he talks is so fucking funny . He makes me feel so sad and miserable if I think about him too long actually . I love shipping him w tang and pigsy and sandy it's both hilarious and very soft to me . The scene where MK says Mei is my best friend I can't leave her behind and Macaque just looks at swk . GUTTED ME PERSONALLY . I'm tending to him like a baby bird

Plus very quick Macaque doodle while I figure out how 2 draw him :3 hc him as non-binary tmasc w no interest in medically transitioning :p also on the ace spectrum!! GIVE ME YOUR MACAQUE OPINIONS NEOWOW !!! /light-hearted

#malik's asks #IMGONNA BE REAL W U I DIDNT NOTICE THISIN OUR DRAFTS BLAZE HAD TO REMIND ME IM SO SORRYB #OK PERSONALLY I LOVE MACAQUE W LONG HAIR i just wanna draw canon him properly b4 trying to branch out #macaque w a braid <33333333 #id draw sandy x macaque if sandy didnt look like a tragedy to draw . i cant draw heads im sorry #cant even do red son wym i have to draw a mo hawk now #omg #mo hawk #lmao #ok anyways

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pangzi · 1 year

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does this look like a boy who has ever done anything wrong in his life officer? that’s right he doesn’t. any evidence you have against him is false tyvm.

#fu weijun #I'M SO INCREDIBLY SAD ABOUT HIM #FUCK i4M SOBBING #I CARE HIM SO FUCKING MUCH #HE'S SUCH A GOOD BOY HE LOVES HIS SISTER SO MUCH #the way he asked shen mo if she remembered how she used to take the blame for him as kids fuck fuck fuck #the long season spoilers

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sergeifyodorov · 7 months

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Blood Sacrifice Shrine in Toronto is accessible through the PATH 👍 but the underground is very sinister 🕳️ watch out

so THAT'S what willy's doing taking the ttc...

#asks #i LOVE the path/ the path-union conglomerate. domain of the gods surely #the way reality in there Does Not Like You Specifically.#quinnfic 2 'long lost': will ny + mo riles + jt try and hunt down the shrine #(the Main Problem here being locating it and not. like. the stuff that was going on w quinnpetey)

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tibialtybalt · 1 year

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4, 10, 26 for art asks!

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

You wouldn't be able to tell since I draw them so much as of late but arval........their honeycomb. plate. tabard . Thing. I vacillate wildly between being obsessed with it and loathing it depending on if I'm drawing it or not. Also what is going on on the back of their head? Their hair is so cubey I don't understand... And if it's epi then you've got the wing things which took me ages to figure out how they're shaped for some reason

Their design looks chefs kiss MWAH in game or in finished pieces but oh my goodness please help my doodling, cutting-corners hand

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

I'm a huge fan of crinkly clothes, cloth that comes to oddly sharp angles. Like where big poofy sleeves that are cuffed come to an end. Or where pants crinkle, at the knees and ankles. These bad boys

26. What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

Hmm that's a difficult question because the stuff I draw is 90% of the time so Very straightforward funny fan art...

Oh but one time someone reblogged a MDZS post of mine and said in the tags that they didn't go there but thought it was funny, and the post is. This one. And you need SO MUCH context to get what the joke is like wow that is an entirely different joke.

#tia posts #tysm for the ask :D #...should i try to explain the joke even though its major spoilers and guaranteed to make it less funny #im gonna try. feel free to not read any of this #so that sword can only be drawn by the late enemy of the state wei wuxian (wwx). and ppl have been keeping an eye out for #him resurrecting himself‚ possessing ppl‚ etc. so when mo xuanyu draws the sword everyone goes 'alright wwx we know its you. die again'#and the thing is. theyre RIGHT. that *is* wwx and the sword *can* only be drawn by wwx.#its just that the 2nd guy to draw the sword‚ jiang cheng (jc)‚ is wwx's little brother that he loves SO much #and a long time ago jc lost his magic and was devastated so wwx gave his own magic to jc and told No One About It #not even jc (he said 'look ive found a way to get your magic back!! wdym youre worried im not using my magic anymore? dont worry abt it')#so the sword recognizes jc as wwx. and like. there are some incredibly smart ppl in the room who've figured out that that guy is wwx #AGES go. they *know* thats wwx. and they *know* the sword cant be drawn. so what is going ON #is jc possessed? are there two wwxs? wtf?? the smartest ppl doing their own grand schemes and theyre just dumbfounded. what do you do.#it also ruins both the 'thats wwx!' reveal AND the 'jcs magic was never recovered‚ hes just been going on his brothers sacrifice'#so thats the comic. ig its still funny if you read it like theyre just lying about who can draw the sword and who cant though

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ichigokeks · 2 years

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When will little Mo be happy????? I’ve been reading 19 days for years and I’m still waiting!!!! (Love your blog btw 😊)

I knoooow 😭😭😭😭

he will be! One day he will be living a good and secure life. He will feel safe and comfortable. He will sleep soundly and if a nightmare pops up again, he will turn to his side and He Tian will be there, always. His trauma will be a memory and he will be able to trust again. I am manifesting this.

Thank you so much 😍💕

#💕#cute ask #anon #answered #19 days #19 days update #mo guan shan #tianshan #unfortauntely old xian loves tragedy as much as i do and im sure mo will have to suffer for a very long time OTL

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

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You’ve just moved in with Simon. Great.

There’s one slight problem, though: Due to the nature of his work, the guy interprets everything as an order. And executes accordingly.

———————————————————————

You sit on the kitchen’s table, enjoying breakfast together, when you notice the full trash bin.

“The trash needs to be taken out,” you casually mention, not giving it too much thought.

But, to your surprise, Simon shoots up from his chair like a coiled spring, leaving his half-eaten food behind. “Roger that,” he responds and jogs towards the trash bin, leaving you baffled.

“Simon?”

He stops and turns to look at you.

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to do it right now.”

“When do you want it done?” he asks, waiting for your next command.

“Wh-whenever you can,” you reply, uncertain how else to phrase it.

“I can do it now,” Simon declares and proceeds to the trash bin.

“Babe, we’re eating.” You say and point at the semi-eaten food on the kitchen table.

He looks at the food, then back at you. He shrugs.

“No,” you state, “Come sit down and finish your breakfast first.”

He nods as if Price just gave him the objectives for his next mission and jogs to the table to resume his breakfast.

He’s always like this. Last week, you found a cockroach running in the bathroom, and you screamed so loud that he almost kicked the door. When he asked you what you wanted him to do, your first instinct was a very loud and clear “KILL IT!” without thinking about your statement’s repercussions. He chased it around, murmuring stuff like “Target’s on the move” and other nonsense until he trapped the cockroach in a corner. He stepped on it once and twisted his foot. The cockroach was dead. Gone. Kaput. But he wanted to do it again, to “confirm the kill.” When you told him there was no need since the cockroach was already a pulp and left you all to a better place, he refused and ordered an “evac” of the bathroom to “do it properly.” And when you asked if “properly” meant an AK-47 and camo apparel, he thought about it long and hard before agreeing that further escalation would be unnecessary.

Be it his ingrained behaviour as a soldier to execute orders, deeply rooted within his system, or his fear not to let you down, he was finding it difficult to leave his work duties at the door. He always carried them inside—in the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. He acted like Ghost, not Simon. Everything was a matter of order to him, and there was no time for relaxation.

But it doesn’t have to be like this; you want him to know that. He doesn’t have to be so rigid at home. He can relax and take a step back from his institutionalised habits.

To prove your point, you decide to give him another instruction, this time more indirectly.

You glance at the sink; some pans are picking out from making breakfast this morning.

“Oh boy,” you moan, trying to pull off an act, “we have to clean the dishes at some point.”

He raises his head to look at the kitchen sink, then sides-eyes you.

“Any particular time you want that done?” He asks, ironically.

“I said ‘at some point’, Simon,” you snap, “there’s no urgency.”

“You also said we ‘have’ to do it,” he snaps back. “‘Have to’ has some sort of urgency in it, doesn’t it?”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You’re right, but it’s more of a general statement,” you reply. “We can do it whenever it’s convenient.”

Simon processes your words and nods.

You stare at him while he eats, and you feel a tug at your heart, urging you to address the underlying issue on your mind. You take a deep breath, searching for the right words to express your feelings without offending him. You reach out and touch his arm to grab his attention. He turns to face you.

“You’re so dedicated to what you do; it’s one of the things I love about you,” you begin, “but our home should be a place where we can both unwind and be ourselves without feeling like we’re constantly on a mission.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he asks.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, wanting to explain them in a way that resonates with him.

“Well, when you jump to fulfil every request or task like it’s an order, it sometimes feels like we’re always on duty,” you explain gently. “I want us to create a more relaxed atmosphere here, where we can enjoy each other’s company and take things at a slower pace.”

He thinks about it for a while.

“Am I doing that?” He asks.

You slowly nod with a gentle smile.

“Affirmative,” he replies, “I’ll try to take it down a notch.”

“No ‘roger’, no ‘affirmative’, nothing like that is needed here,” you explain.

“Is ‘alright’ alright?” He asks.

“Yes,” you smile, “alright is alright.”

He finishes his breakfast and puts his dish in the sink.

“So,” he says, pointing one hand at the dirty dishes and the other at the bin. “Is there any particular order in which you want these two to be done?”

You smile. “No, babe; you take out the trash, and I’ll do the dishes.”

“Underst-alright, alright.” He corrects himself and walks to the garbage. He ties up the bag’s strings and picks up the bin. He spots you looking at him.

“Am I doing something wrong?” He hesitates.

“Why are you taking the entire bin with you?”

He keeps looking at you and places the bin on the floor.

“Just in case the bag’s ripped,” he explains, “I don’t want to spill garbage juice on the floor.”

“Oh.”

“Should I take the bag only?” He asks and begins to remove it from the bin.

“No… that’s pretty smart, actually.”

He raises his eyebrows and points a thumb at himself.

“Yes, Simon,” you nod and smile, “you’re pretty smart and considerate. I’ll carry out the same procedure while on trash bin duty.”

He puffs up his chest and picks up the bin with the bag in it.

“I’m dedicated, smart and considerate.” You hear him boast to himself as he walks towards the exit, ready to execute his mission.

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost mw2 #ghost cod mw2 #simon ghost riley fic

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 month

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do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.

You look at it.

And then you set your phone down.

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.

He looks good. Almost too good.

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head.

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully.

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.

You cover his hand with your own.

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm.

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.

“Yes, please.”

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings.

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK.

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.

He knows.

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?

Maybe you have it all wrong.

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.

24 hours go by.

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence.

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans.

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown.

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration.

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute.

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment.

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry.

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!”

He knows.

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding.

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more.

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.

“You regret your first time?”

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.

You want to scream bloody murder.

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse.

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.

“Goodnight.”

part five

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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strawberrynull · 2 months

Text

──౨ৎ ˙❤‍🩹 ̟ after the fight

엔하이픈 | Enhypen | ot7

──Pairing: enha ot7 x reader

──Genre: angst, fluff

──Synopsis: After you have a fight, they try their best to make things right again

──Warnings: mentions of arguing, fake violence/play fighting, cursing, kissing

──A/N: yall i literally got the idea for this from a couple tiktok my bsf sent me... o_o

masterlist

이희승 | Heeseung

Immediately after Heeseung raised his voice at you, he regretted it. He approached you slowly like you were an angry lion. Slowly, he wrapped a gentle arm around your waist. He was quickly swatted away though. A look of shock washed over his face; eyes wide and lips slightly parted. Being cocky enough to try again earned him another slap on the arm. His lips press into a straight line. He grabbed hold of your wrist to restrain you from hitting him again. Before you could resist, his other hand was on your waist, pulling you towards him. His lips crashed onto yours and you couldn't resist kissing your precious boyfriend back. Heeseung whispered against your lips about how sorry he was and how much he loved you.

박종성 | Jongseong

You turned away from Jay, tears pricking your eyes. It was typical for him to be a bit irritable after a long day but he was pretty good at not taking out his frustration on you. Today, though, he had lashed out and yelled at you. The regret hit him as soon as you turned your back to him and he could hear small sniffles from you. His legs felt like jelly as he began to walk toward you. Jay's arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he dipped his head down into the crook of your neck. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby." he whispered, muffled from nuzzling into your neck. "I'll never yell at you ever again, I promise." he said, kissing your neck in between words.

심재윤 | Jaeyun

Jake wasn't one to get easily upset and definitely no one to yell but today something in him made him more upset than usual. He was pissed off and ended up shouting at you, ending in you storming out of your apartment. Now you were in your own living room sulking about it. You heard a knock, making you groan as you slowly dragged your feet to the door. As soon as the door knob was turned, the person on the other side slammed it open. There was Jake with several snack filled shopping bags in his arms. He knew that snacks always made you feel better. "Damn it, I had a whole apology speech but you're so pretty that I forgot it already." The bags were dropped to the floor as Jake attacked you with a huge bear hug.

박성훈 | Sunghoon

You turned your back to him, folding your arms across your chest. He placed a hand on your waist, attempting to hug you from behind. "Wait, baby I'm sorry. Don't-" He was cut off by you walking away from him. His eyes widened before he began to chase after you. Sunghoon reached out to grab the back of your shirt but you shook your shoulders, releasing yourself from his grip. He tried again and again but somehow you were a pro escape artist. He resorted to grabbing your hair to stop you. You winced and turned around to try to escape. Just what he wanted you to do. He quickly pulled you toward him, placing his lips on yours. His hand was tangled in your hair as he apologized over and over again between kisses.

김선우 | Sunoo

"I'm.. I'm really sorry." Sunoo whispered with sincerity in his tone. You ignored him though. "Hey. Are you listening to me?" He asked, poking at your cheeks. He cupped your face and put his own face super close to yours. Then he scrunched his eyebrows together as his lips curled into a pout. "Ya, answer me. I said I'm sorry and I meant it." All you did was avert your eyes, causing him to grumble. "Fine. Then I'm going to be unresistably cute until you forgive me." He grabbed your face and turned it towards as his lips formed a thin smile. You couldn't hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. As soon as he saw your smile, he cheered and hugged you tightly.

양정원 | Jungwon

"Oh shit-" he gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry, my love. I- I didn't mean that." Jungwons voice trembled as he reached for you, only to be met by your shocked expression. He bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears forming in his eyes. He was even more upset at his own actions than you were. "Angel? Will you please forgive me?" He whispered, hooking his fingers on the belt loops of your pants. He pulled you close to his body and placed a soft kiss on your lips. Then he began kissing all over your face, followed by an apology every time.

니키 | Niki

You furrowed your eyebrows after Niki had finished yelling at you. His ears turned red like they always do when he's ashamed. "Fuck, I'm sorry. You know i would never-" You cut him off by telling him to shut up. His mood changed like a switch as his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. "Alright, fine." His fist clenched before he threw a punch that landed just inches from your face. But for some reason it had just missed you. Out of pure instinct, you threw a punch back, hitting him in the stomach. You gasped, putting a hand up to your mouth in shock at what you did. "Nice punch, baby. Feel better now?" Then you remembered that he had told you once to just hit him if you were upset with him. "O-oh... yeah.."

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