#anyway these characters both did do terrible things but feel the need to pile on more and remove nuance from where it exists | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

titularkilljoy · 3 years

Text

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler

717 notes · View notes

darling-i-read-it · 3 years

Text

Comfy

Karl Heisenberg x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: injury, cussing

Author’s Note: I hope you like this babes! Karl my beloved omg, slight re8 spoilers

Requested: by anon, Ooooo requests? Maybe? Idk it says open so I shall ✨request✨. M’kay, so I’m thinking that Karl has a gf that likes soft things (blankets, sweaters, pillows, pjs, that kind of stuff) and small enclosed spaces, so Karl makes a small-ish room for her to put all of her stuff in and cuddle up to for when she’s cold/wants to relax. Like she has a switch and a tv and wifi- it’s like a soft man cave but for her and Karl. Anyway, Ethan is looking for baby and comes across her room and tries to hide in it, not knowing she’s IN there and asleep. He gets in there, notices the blankets and pillows and accidentally steps on her ankle, which HURT and makes her scream. Karl hears said scream and comes barrelling over in protective bf mode to beat Ethan up. It’s up to you whether gf goes “oi don’t be mean he’s looking for his baby” or not

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“I just think that it couldn’t be that hard for you to make a small place, hidden away.” Your voice didn’t carry far in the small room but it didn’t have to. You had a blanket over you as you sat up at the edge of the bed. Karl was walking back and forth around the room as he grabbed things to start his day. “You’re very good with your hands,” you said pleasantly. He pointed at you.

“You’re right about that.”

“Come on Karl. Just a small place. You can use it too if you want to run away for a minute.” He stopped in front of you, the first time he had stopped in a couple of minutes. You looked up at him and he looked down at you, caressing your cheek. He took a deep breath.

“I will see what I can do.” You grabbed his hand and slid it to your lips, kissing his palm.

“You’re the best.”

“I know.” He paused. “Say it again.”

“You’re the best Karl.” He leaned down and gave you a kiss before backing away to the door.

“You better believe it.”

===

You didn’t bring up your small place for a couple of days, just in case he really didn’t want to do it. You just figured that you could have a small room in the factory that no one but the two of you knew existed so you could finally have some privacy. You could fill it with soft things, blankets, pillows, all of that. And entertainment as well of course.

But he didn’t bring it up and you didn’t want to push it. He had a lot to do during his days and you didn’t want to add more stress.

You were sitting behind him, arms around his waist as he massaged your hands gingerly. You had your cheek pressed flat against his back as you both breathed, telling each other about your days.

“I made it.”

“Huh?”

“I made the room.” You backed up, pulling away from him. He had to turn because he wanted to know what your expression was. He was very pleased to find an overjoyed look.

“You aren’t messing with me are you?”

“No. Maybe. No, I’m not. I finished it earlier today, do you want to see it?” He had a goofy look on his face, like you wouldn’t want to see it.

“I would love to see it!”

He grabbed your arm and dragged you out of bed. You were allowed to walk around the factory but it still left you dizzy after walking around too long. Karl had given you a map and you had been around enough to know where you were going but there was still so much going on.

Fortunately Karl didn’t walk far as he led you down a hallway with a dead end.

“Not too far from the room so you won’t get lost,” he said condescendingly. You shoved him but he just smiled his little sarcastic smile at you. He kicked at the wall and a door opened just a little bit. You watched as he moved the very small door open to reveal a small cubby hole of a room. It was tall enough to fit the both of you which was preferred so you could both get in and out. There were blankets inside, along with things to entertain yourself.

You clapped your hands and fell onto the comfy ground, landing on a stuffed animal, pillow and blanket. You grabbed his hand.

“Come here, lay with me.”

“Maybe later kitten, I gotta get back to work,” he told you, leaning against the door frame.

“Well at least shut the door. We don’t want our little secret getting out or else Mother Miranda will find us here as well.” He rolled his eyes and stepped inside, careful not to smush anything with his work boots. You grinned as the door shut behind him. “Five minutes,” you whispered.

He let out an annoyed sigh despite not being annoyed in the slightest.

“Five minutes.”

You pulled him down to lay with you and started to explore the small place that he had built for you.

=====

All Ethan Winters knew at this point was running away from danger. He was always exhausted when the adrenaline wore out and he was sick and tired of having to find hiding spots.

That being said, he was currently looking for a hiding spot to guard him away from the horrors of this factory.

Breath heaving, he stopped running as he came to a hallway with a dead end. He turned around, hearing the horrific sounds of something or someone gaining on him. He put his back against the wall and then fell through it, surprised to land on a pleasant cloud of pillows and blankets. Realizing that this was a room he quickly shut the door with his foot so that no one would be able to find him in here.

He held his gun in his hand and put his back against the wall, looking around feverishly. The rooms were tall but the width was very very small, just enough space for maybe two people if they were really close to each other. Blankets covered the ground, making lumps and lumps of comfort.

Ethans eyes narrowed in confusion. Had he made it outside of the factory? This definitely didn’t look like Heisenbergs doing.

You opened your eyes slowly at someone landing on your feet. Naturally you figured it was Karl so you didn’t even raise your head much as you waited for him to search the blankets to find you. As you woke up from your sleep you heard the unfamiliar breathing of someone you did not recognize.

Your eyes snapped open and your heart started to beat quickly. You stayed still but the person stood up, standing very harshly on your ankle which must have twisted it or something but it hurt like a motherfucker. You yelped and sat up, eyes narrowing in on Ethan Winters, who you recognized from some pictures. He held the gun up to you but didn’t shoot, thank God.

“Hey hey hey!” you yelled, hands up. “I’m unarmed.” He looked terribly confused and didn’t lower his gun at all. You yanked your leg back to you and moved the blankets aside to see that your ankle was twisted in some kind of way. You couldn’t even tell what he had done but his boots were heavy and so was his step.

“Who are you?” he asked, breath not slowing down to an even pace.

“Y/N. You’re Ethan yeah? You stepped on my ankle!” He lowered his gun to your ankle to look and agreed, it did not look good.

“Listen I’m sorry I’m just trying to get out of-”

The door swung open causing you both to jump in surprise.

Karl stood there, big hammer in his hand as he looked between you and Ethan. He quickly surveyed the situation and noticed you holding your ankle. One look and he could tell, Ethan had done something to it.

Ethan raised his gun to Karl, annoyed he hadn’t been able to catch a break.

Karl felt his anger bubble in his chest at the sight of you hurt. He moved forward, grabbing Ethan by the shirt and lifting him in the air.

“You think you can just come into my factory and hurt Y/N of all people?” he sneered, voice deadly. Ethan had always heard a kind of sarcastic tinge to his voice but right now he was deadly serious. It sent a chill down his spine.

You stood up, using the wall to anchor you and gingerly holding your foot up above the ground to not put pressure onto it. You put a hand on Karls arm.

“He didn’t mean to. I’m sure you have plenty of other things to crucify him for but take it out of my room.” Karl didn’t even look over at you. You and Ethan met eyes and he weighed his options on trying to get sympathy out of you. He decided he probably could’t, not with Heisenberg right there.

“I’ll be right back,” Karl muttered. He took Ethan by the shirt and threw him out the door, following close behind. You looked down at the boot prints on your blankets and sighed.

====

Karl wasn’t gone more than 20 minutes and he came rushing back to you. He hated feeling so vulnerable, knowing people had the ability to hurt him so easily through you. He opened the door to your little room and started to panic when he saw you weren’t there.

He turned around, walking swiftly, trying not to act like he was panicked, back to yours and his room. You sat on the bed, some of the blankets from the tiny room on the ground. You had a first aid kit on the bed beside you as you attempted to bandage yourself up. It looked like you were failing.

“Where the hell did you go?” he asked and he meant for it to sound angry but it came out sounding more worried. You gestured to the blanket pile.

“Needed to clean the blankets. And also wrap this ankle up. Where’s Ethan?”

“Taken care of.” He kneeled in front of you and grabbed the wrap from you. He fumbled with the first aid kit. “How do you feel? Broken? Should I cut it off?” You scoffed.

“Maybe you should. It hurts like a motherfucker.”

“Well let’s get it wrapped and see how it does.” You nodded and let his fingers work their magic. When he was done you grabbed his hands.

“Thank you Karl.”

“I’m sorry he found you. I thought I hid it well enough.”

“It was an accident, don’t worry about it.” He nodded and you kissed his forehead with a smile. “Now go wash those blankets. Those are your boot prints, mister.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and laid down on the bed beside you.

“No, but thank you for asking.”

“Pff if you weren’t comfy I would kick you out right this very second.”

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagines #resident evil 8 imagines

663 notes · View notes

phr0gie · 3 years

Text

sleep softly, love; genshin impact

synopsis: how i think certain genshin impact characters would fall asleep next to you for the first time :)

note: hihi! so i finally feel like i’m caught up enough in genshin lore that i can start actually writing for it!! yay!! anyways, i’m sorry if my portrayal of them is a lil ooc, i’m still getting used to writing for them. still, i hope you guys enjoy! :D

pairings: xiao x reader, diluc x reader

tw: mentions of nightmares and death in xiao’s, mentions of alcohol and suggestive themes in diluc’s, ooc characters, mostly j fluff, not proof read (oops)

wc: 2k

masterlist

xiao:

the first few times you bring up sleeping next to him he’s probably going to turn you down

you see, xiao doesn’t really need to sleep, nor does he want to

he finds the idea of lying in a comatose state for eight hours in complete darkness to be “weird” and a “waste of time”

and his opinion on the matter doesn’t change for a while

that is, until you confess to him you’ve been having nightmares

these nightmares were like nothing you have ever had before

they shook you to your very core and, rather than the dream just leaving your mind after you woke up, they followed you around for days

once you confide in xiao about these terrors, he grows very concerned

in the past he’s known people who have been plagued with nightmares as a result of a dangerous curse that, more often than not, ended in death

the thought of you, the person he cares about most, succumbing to such a terrible fate frightens him more than anything — not that he’ll ever admit this to you.

and so, reluctantly, xiao agrees to spend the night with you

just this once, to protect you

You roll over to face him and for a moment he panics. To Xiao’s knowledge, couples who slept together often cuddled with each other. While he did occasionally enjoy a few close moments with you, Xiao couldn’t say he was very taken with the idea of physical contact — especially in a situation that left him so vulnerable. To his relief, however, you stay on your side of the bed. Your hand rests on top of your pillow and slowly, almost cautiously you maneuver it so it’s lying a bit closer to Xiao — a silent invitation to hold your hand, is what the adeptus recognizes it as. This gesture was not foreign to him, you did things like this often. You always kept your hand outstretched to him. Even if he were to pull away or turn his back, your hand was still there. You were still there.

“Xiao.”

Your gentle voice catches his attention immediately. As he looks into your eyes all he can see is admiration, his heart clenches at the feeling it gives him.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “for being here for me like this.”

Xiao simply nods his head at you in response.

“Sleep,” he whispers, his tone commanding yet soft, “I will be here when you wake.”

He desperately wants to say more. To let you know that he would always be there for you, that no challenge would ever be too difficult if it was for you, that he would rip the moon from the night sky if it meant that you would rest a little easier. Yet, the kind smile you give him shows that he need not continue. You know he loves you, you have never once doubted it. You are aware of the burden he carries and how it affects him. You know that one day he will be able to share with you the confessions of love and vulnerability that are buried deep inside him. For now, this is enough. He is enough. And so, with a content smile you snuggle even further into your pillow.

“Goodnight, Xiao.” You whisper before finally closing your eyes.

Xiao stares at your resting form for a while. It is not until your breathing evens out and he is sure you are asleep do his eyes flicker from your face to your hand lying closely to him. All of the sudden, an overwhelming urge to hold you in some way overtakes the adeptus. Again, Xiao was not the biggest fan of physical affection, however, something about you looking as peaceful as you do in this moment evokes something from him. And so, he decides to finally accept your invitation. As his palm meets yours in a tight hold — not tight enough to wake you, of course — Xiao allows himself to indulge in the warmth and safety you provide him, just this once.

Neither of you have any nightmares that night.

diluc:

you and diluc are in a fairly new relationship.

having just started seeing each other a few months ago, it’s only natural to not have done anything too domestic quite yet.

not to mention, our ever stoic winery owner is a bit shy when it comes to his affections.

the two of your were every content with your soft, simple touches.

hand-holding, hugging, and subtle kissing kept you both very satisfied.

until you decide to get drunk at dawn winery.

your work has been k i l l i n g you recently

commissions are beginning to pile up, hilichurls have invaded the area you were supposed to scout next, and you couldn’t help but think that you were getting a bit rusty with your weapon.

all and all, you are very stressed out.

you desperately want a chance to relax.

originally, you had planned on just having a drink or two and ranting to your ever so reliable boyfriend.

however, a drink or two turned into three, then four...

before you knew it you couldn’t remember how many you had and it was rather late.

being the gentleman that he is, diluc forces offers you his bed for the night

seeing as you were in no condition to return home on your own, he has no choice.

it’s the responsible decision.

however, he’s still very flustered about the whole ordeal

Dulic thinks you are a handful. Especially right now.

He huffs as he attempts to open his bedroom door one-handed. The other appendage preoccupied with keeping you slumped against his side so that you don’t fall over.

“I knew you shouldn’t have had that last glass of dandelion wine.” He mumbles, gently scolding you.

You simply blink up at him, a bored expression on your flushed face.

“You sayin’ I can’t hold my alcohol?” you hiccup, “I’ll show you…”

You attempt to push off of him, but his hold on you tightens.

“No,” he grunts, “You won’t.”

Finally the door opens and Diluc lets out a sigh of relief. Swiftly he lifts you up — earning a small ‘woah’ and a giggle from you — and carries you over to his bed. He then sets you down and turns to his dresser to get you some clothes to sleep in. He picks out a large, white, long-sleeved undershirt and. Your lips curl into a suggestive smirk and you chuckle.

“Oooh,” you tease, “Master Diluc how bold of you, are you going to dress me?”

The pyro user looks absolutely mortified but you pay no mind to it, too busy laughing and hiccupping at your own joke. A prominent blush grows on Diluc’s face as he shuffles over to you.

“Of course not!” he stutters, dropping the clothing article gently on your head. He then grabs a pile of his own clothes and makes a beeline to the door. Just as he is about to exit he turns to you.

“Wait here,” he instructs, “and try not to fall asleep yet.”

And with that, the Diluc dashes down the hall, presumably leaving you to get changed. You do just that, tugging off your shirt and removing your bottoms. You huff as you lift your boyfriend's shirt up and over your head. As soon as the garment falls over your shoulders and past your knees, you’re hit with the rich scent of chestnuts and mahogany — the scent of Diluc. His undershirt is so baggy and so warm that you cannot help but feel at ease, Diluc always did have a way of making you feel safe — whether it was the hand he always places on the small of your back when he guides you around town or the look in his eyes when he spots you across the room, so sure that you’re the one he’ll always search for. The red-head returns a moment later clad in a dark, short-sleeved undershirt, similar to the one he gave you, and a pair of soft pants. In one hand, Diluc holds a fresh glass of water and in the other a pillow that seems to be smaller than the ones laid out in his bed. Diluc gently sits on the edge of the bed and pats the spot next to him, beckoning you to sit next to him. As soon as the bed dips with your weight, Diluc is handing you a cup of water.

“Drink,” he instructs once again, “so your hangover doesn’t kill you tomorrow.”

You do as you're told, dutifully downing the refreshing liquid. The minute your lips leave the cup he takes it from you, setting it on his bedside table. Then, Diluc picks you up once more and positions you so you are laying properly on the bed. He pulls the covers out from under you and makes sure you’re tucked in well.

“There,” he says finally, pulling the comforter up to your chin, “are you comfortable?”

However, he does not receive an answer. You’re already half asleep, head slumped against the pillow, mouth hanging wide open. Diluc smiles in spite of himself. He should be mad at you, he knows he should. But, as you lay there with your hair a mess, wearing one of his shirts, in his bed, Diluc cannot help but fall even more hopelessly in love with you. Stroking your hair a few times, he finally leaves a light kiss on your forehead. Hesitantly, he gets up, being very careful not to jostle you. He’s about to head to his living room to sleep, but he can barely make it two steps away from the bed before a hand shoots out and grabs his wrist. He turns to see you, still snug in his bed, a pout adorning your features.

“Where’re you goin?” You grumble out sleepily.

Diluc looks at you curiously.

“I’m going to let you sleep,” he whispers, “You need to rest.”

He attempts to remove your hand but your grip only tightens. Suddenly you pull him down, your faces only inches apart. You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your forehead against his.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice soft — so soft that Diluc doesn’t think he would have heard it if he weren’t so close to you, “stay.”

The blush from earlier creeps back up Diluc’s neck and rests upon the apples of his cheeks. Hearing you plead for him like this evokes a sense of warmth within the pyro user. He’s never felt so wanted before you. Ultimately, Diluc gives in and indulges you — how can he not? Crawling into bed next to you, he stiffens when you rest your head on his chest and wrap your arms around his torso. Diluc stays up a little while after you doze off, admiring you.

Diluc thinks you are a handful. However, he thinks he can handle it if at the end of every day he gets to hold you like this.

please do not steal or repost my work, thank you!

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #xiao x reader #xiao headcanons #xiao #diluc x reader #diluc headcanons #diluc #frog.fiction

673 notes · View notes

tossawary · 3 years

Text

2,500 words of the Moshang Forced Marriage AU, in which the PIDW plot is turned off and Tianlang-Jun doesn’t fall, but this only causes even more problems for Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua. Written on my phone.

Shang Qinghua stumbled back into his leisure house with a jar of Zui Xian Peak’s best light wine in one hand and a sack of Qian Cao Peak’s tastiest specialty melon seeds in the other. He kicked the door closed, kicked off his shoes, and then kicked back for some quality lounging.

“Ahhh, now this is more like it!” he declared, wiggling into the cushions worthy of a head disciple’s house. “It’s all shoving off my chores onto other people from here on out! Having flatcakes on order with a snap of my fingers! Making some other poor bastard deal with Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge - at each other’s throats even at Yue-Shixiong’s nice dinner to celebrate our future ascension, eugh. I’ve really earned this! I’ve suffered enough!”

He dropped the sack of seeds onto the side table and fiddled with the wine, embarrassingly clumsy despite the fact that he was sober. As always, he’d been much too chicken-shit to really indulge around other people. He needed his fast reflexes for ducking and running away when he was out and about! Plus, people would freak the fuck out if a transmigrator started running his mouth, giving everyone existential issues and shit, so him waiting until he was alone to drink was really more of a societal service here than sad.

The Transmigration System had also been a concern before, but not anymore!

Shang Qinghua raised his jar and laughingly declared, “The plot is dead! Long live the free author! Ah, this toast is a little late, but better late than never, huh?”

At long last, this transmigrator had managed to get into the Transmigration System’s settings and turn off the plot! It had honestly been a little infuriating just how easy it had been, once he’d hit on the right combination of things to open the right settings menu. There may or may not have been a lot of outraged shrieking and frustrated crying, after all the sweat, blood, and tears he’d shed to become the head disciple of An Ding Peak. All Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had needed to do, in the end, was flick a few buttons from “on” to “off”. Outrageous.

“No more missions! No more restrictions! And no more bad endings for anyone! Ah, at least for everyone besides Huan Hua Palace Sect’s old master, that is… but, heh heh, I really think that I and the new Empress Su Xiyan can live with that,” Shang Qinghua muttered, then took a drink, wiggling deeper into his lounging and feeling very good about himself.

He felt as free as a bird! As free as the wind! Why shouldn't he celebrate his newfound freedom and future as a Cang Qiong Peak Lord by doing a little bit of nothing at all?

Shang Qinghua shamelessly did his best to become a lump. As he toasted to the distant happy couple and the bouncy baby protagonist on his way, with wine and melon seeds both, he removed all but one layer of clothing, tossed his belt and his jewelry on top of the pile, and yanked everything out of his hair. He slid from a sitting position to a totally horizontal one without realizing how it had happened, then he let heavy eyes fall closed with the knowledge that everything was going to be so much better now.

A person knew things were good when they could fall asleep just like this.

Then a burst of cold air startled him into looking up at a shadowy figure stepping out of nowhere above him. Shang Qinghua shrieked with terror.

"SHUT UP!” the shadow snarled. “Get up!”

“What- my king?!”

Mobei-Jun didn’t wait and grabbed Shang Qinghua by the front of his robes, hauling him to his feet. The wine sloshed against the floor and the melon seeds scattered around them. Shang Qinghua yelped, choked, and then wheezed and flailed, and then yelped again as his loose robes got a little looser with the rough handling and he slipped in Mobei-Jun's grip.

"What- get dressed!" Mobei-Jun snapped, and then dragged him into the bedroom right away.

"The sight of my naked chest offends you this much, bro?!" Shang Qinghua thought, stumbling along. "There's not enough room in this house for two tits-out outfits?! What the fuck is going on?!"

Mobei-Jun threw Shang Qinghua towards the dresser. He just barely managed to catch himself, taking a hard wooden edge to the gut and stubbing his toe on its base, instead of falling and concussing himself at least. Shit! It still hurt, though!

"Get dressed!" Mobei-Jun snapped again, pointing at the dresser for emphasis. "Now!"

"Right away! Right away, my king!" With shaking hands, his heart thundering in his ears, Shang Qinghua pulled out the first set of robes his fingers touched.

"Not those!"

"Aah!"

Shang Qinghua dropped the robes onto the floor. They were the regular everyday robes of an An Ding Peak disciple, plain and sturdy, something that the demon had seen him in many times before.

"Wh- what's wrong with th-these?"

"Too plain!" Mobei-Jun barked, and stalked forward to shove Shang Qinghua aside and go through the dresser himself.

Shang Qinghua stumbled away and took shelter near his bed, quickly retying his current robes to prevent another fucking nip-slip or worse. He watched with wide eyes as Mobei-Jun threw his clothing to the floor as not good enough. The next drawer was yanked open with so much strength that it splintered and tilted crookedly to one side.

"My king, why-?! What's happening?! Are- are we going somewhere?! Who does this servant have to impress?!"

Mobei-Jun finished throwing aside everything in this drawer and tried to shove it back in, but it was too broken to be moved. The demon snarled, yanked the entire drawer from the dresser with another terrible splintering sound, and threw the drawer out of his way. It hit Shang Qinghua in the chest and sent him sprawling back onto his bed.

He lay there and wheezed without shoving it away, just feeling the impact rattle through his ribs. He heard another drawer splinter.

"Ah, so this is how I die?" he thought. "Just as expected: with a bang AND a whimper."

He pushed the drawer to one side and sat up, only to be smacked in the face with the robes thrown at him. They were the nicest robes he owned. The An Ding Peak Lord had ordered them for him for the coming ascension of a new generation of Peak Lords, so they had all sorts of fancy embroidery and several heavy layers, which meant Shang Qinghua fell back against the bed again under their weight when they hit his head. He sat up again and then gawked at these robes he had never worn and wasn't supposed to wear yet-

"Tianlang-Jun."

"Aha, what?" Shang Qinghua looked at the demon lord scowling at him. "My king…? What about Tianlang-Jun…? This- no. What?! My king, you can't mean to take this servant before the Demon Emperor, that would be ridic-"

"Get dressed," Mobei-Jun snapped.

"It's not Tianlang-Jun, right? Why-?! What's really going on here? Are we going somewhere? Are we meeting someone?"

Shang Qinghua got to his feet, but he didn't dare put the fancy robes on, like being nearly naked would save him from being dragged off anywhere else. No amount of nice clothing would ever make the likes of this displaced author impressive to the likes of the OP Demon Emperor, finally sitting on his late sister's throne.

"This servant can't serve his king to the best of his abilities unless he knows what the-"

"My father is dead!"

“...Wh… what?”

Mobei-Jun’s expression was like a thunderstorm. Shadows curled around his clenched fists, as light and heat fled this room that was suddenly even smaller than Shang Qinghua remembered it being.

"My father…" Mobei-Jun repeated, slowly, daring Shang Qinghua not to understand a second time. "...is dead."

Shang Qinghua stared in horror, the robes slipping out of his hands, which itched to count all the years that had just been skipped even though he knew he didn't have enough fingers. Thirty years or so? Definitely more than twenty. His breath came out in a trembling fog as he demanded:

"H-how?!"

"Tianlang-Jun," Mobei-Jun said again, through gritted teeth.

Good point! Good point! Who the fuck else could it be? The real question was why the fuck?! And also what the fuck was Shang Qinghua of all people supposed to do about clashes between OP demon lords?!

Mobei-Jun advances on Shang Qinghua, the shadows in his fists writhing like he's strangling them. "Tianlang-Jun took offense to some of my clan's foolish disrespect towards his human Empress and he made an example of my father. He has threatened to destroy the body unless a suitable gesture is made."

"But… the power of your ancestors…"

Mobei-Jun, looming over him, shoved him down to his knees to pick up the robes he had dropped, and snarled: "Get dressed."

Shang Qinghua snatched up the robes and skittered away to dress himself up for the slaughter. His heart was racing fast, but his mind seemed to be going even faster, almost too fast to actually think and also do things like make sure clothes weren't inside-out as he put them on.

The power of the Mobei clan rested in the ascension ritual in which the new king "consumed" the body of the old king. Spiritually and… er… possibly also physically? Shang Qinghua had no idea if the System had picked up on those implications or not. Anyway, if Mobei-Jun's father's body was destroyed, then he wouldn't receive that power-up necessary to enforce his rule, which would make him the target of every ambitious cousin and every greedy neighbor. The Mobei clan would probably fall into civil war and the rest of the northern kingdoms would follow them into bloody battle.

Shang Qinghua's favorite character, currently glaring at him for the fancy clothes probably making him look even less fancy by comparison, was sure to die. Mobei-Jun's shitty uncle had probably already picked the poisoned knife with which to stab him in the back.

"My king… what… what gesture is being made here…? This servant… this servant really needs to know how he's supposed to be of service…"

Shang Qinghua also needed to know whether or not he needed to take the first available window to run away. He definitely wasn't above leaping out of literal windows. If Mobei-Jun intended on hanging him over to Tianlang-Jun as a human sacrifice or some shit, then promises of loyalty might expire a lot sooner than originally planned!

At the question, Mobei-Jun's expression only darkened and the room darkened again with it. The cold seemed to spread from Shang Qinghua's skin deep into his twisting chest.

"Marriage," Mobei-Jun said, again through gritted teeth. "Tianlang-Jun has suggested marriage to a human as a worthy gesture."

"M-marriage?"

Mobei-Jun looked so fucking murderous that Shang Qinghua knew he hadn't misheard. He had to have misheard, though, because this was absurd.

"Marriage betw-between me and- and…?"

"Yes."

"And… you?"

"Yes."

Shang Qinghua should have been given an award for not fainting dead away. The System should have given him a million points for every second he managed to stay conscious, except… the System had essentially been turned off. No more points. No more plot.

No more Proud Immortal Demon Way plot, at least.

Ah, was this some kind of warped vacuum effect? A new plot come to take its place?

"There will be great riches."

Shang Qinghua refocused on the demon glaring at him. Riches?! What the fuck did riches have to do with anything right now?!

"Mobei Clan is the second strongest in the Demon Realm," Mobei-Jun informed him, but the demon was kind of scowling like he resented this now, instead of bragging. "You would not have to work again."

It was a really fucking weird day when being told that his Dream Guy wanted him and that he'd never had to work again was somehow bad news. It almost sounded like Mobei-Jun was… was… trying to persuade Shang Qinghua to marry him by offering wealth, power, and a life of indolence. All things that would tempt most people! Especially blindly greedy, thigh-hugging sect traitors like his character!

"Did… did Tianlang-Jun tell you… to just pick any human?" Shang Qinghua asked faintly. "There weren't… there weren't any requirements…?"

Clearly Mobei-Jun didn't want to be tied to Shang Qinghua of all humans!

"He asked - laughingly - if none of us knew any humans. I said that I did."

Okay, Shang Qinghua fully believed that Mobei-Jun didn't know any other humans. Mobei-Jun was on a deadline and didn't have time to go find the most acclaimed matchmaker or anything. By default, Shang Qinghua was the best, most handsome, most skillful, most wellborn, most desirable, and altogether most marriageable human Mobei-Jun knew - and he was not feeling super fucking thrilled by this victory.

"What… what did my king say about me..? What is the Demon Emperor expecting?" Shang Qinghua could only hope expectations had been set on the floor, preferably into the floor or maybe even underground.

"A disciple of Cang Qiong in my service."

"Oh…"

"Fix your robes."

"What? Oh, shit. Right away!"

Shang Qinghua didn't have a lot of experience wearing robes this nice and Mobei-Jun barking at him to look less like shit wasn't helping. The fact that he was sweating from nerves and his fingers were still shaking a little also wasn't helping. He skittered around to add tasteful ornaments and jewelry, some of which got violently rejected by Mobei-Jun as too ugly to show anyone, but looking down at himself, he mostly just felt like he was throwing shiny gold onto a pile of crap. How could this really fool anyone?

"My king, what… what am I supposed to say to the Demon Emperor? Do you want me to lie? To the Demon Emperor?!"

"Do not speak unless spoken to."

Sure, Shang Qinghua could do that, but was he really supposed to leave the talking to Mobei-Jun?! To Mobei-Jun?! The protagonist's right-hand man had not been known for his silver tongue! Did he think people weren't going to have questions? Like, "How the fuck do you know some random human?" Or, "Holy shit, you're really going to marry THAT one?"

"Isn't… my king, isn't Tianlang-Jun well known for his interest in humans and human stories… though...?"

Love stories! Shang Qinghua was pretty sure that the man loved a good love story! How the fuck were he and Mobei-Jun supposed to pull off a love story? And make it a love story compelling enough to convince a pissed-off Tianlang-Jun to grant the Mobei Clan mercy? Shang Qinghua wasn’t totally sure he was going to be able to do anything besides break down sobbing and curl up into a pathetic ball on the floor.

Mobei-Jun's face twisted slightly, in the way of an angry demon who didn't want to admit that his lowly human servant actually had a super great point. Tianlang-Jun had already proven himself a man who liked to play with his food a little.

"Do not tell some story," Mobei-Jun snarled finally. "Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not lie."

"Of course! Of course! Very wise not to lie to him!” Shang Qinghua told himself to focus on the logistics here; he was the logistics man; it was what he did. If he just kept focusing on the details, he didn’t have to think about the bigger picture. “This servant will remain silent until called upon, which… when… my king, when will that be? Tomorrow morning? I have to tell-"

"Now."

"-my martial sib- what?!"

"Now," Mobei-Jun repeated. "He is waiting."

#moshang forced marriage au #tossawary updates #tossawary svsss #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #svsss

396 notes · View notes

keisurou · 3 years

Text

build it up

(ft. koutarou bokuto)

minors dni.

wc: 3.2k

Warnings: semi-public sex (in the locker room?), doggy style, mirror sex, mutual masturbation, blowjob, atsumu x kiyoomi ship, atsumu being a lil’ shit and drilling ideas into bo’s head, not edited.

So my friends and I were fangirling discussing and apparently personality-wise, I’m basically a mix of Akaashi and Kenma, and it kinda makes sense because my top two comfort characters are Kuroo and Bokuto. Anyways, this is just a lil’ thing I wanted to try out, and again, this is not edited (i did edit it, and then my laptop just DIED so now its all gone. *sobs*) - does anyone want to be a beta-reader?? Because I literally went on a road trip with my family and just typed this in the car the entire time while my brothers screamed nonsense bs next to me. Hmu if you’re actually interested :)

“Babe,” Bokuto murmurs into your neck, drawing out the word, his hair still damp and smoothed down from his shower not too long ago. You’re trying to focus on the pile of research assignments in front of you, but the way your fiance is rubbing circles on your back has you rereading the same sentence multiple times. “I heard something I wanna try,”

“Hmm?” You hum noncommittally, encouraging him to continue, but you don’t look away from the papers. He frowns, frustration clawing at his belly and lets out a small grunt as he paws at your thighs exposed by your silk pyjamas. When he doesn’t speak, you turn to him and run your fingers through his damp locks before ruffling them slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you tired? You have practice tomorrow morning, don’t you?”

He doesn’t respond, his gaze locked on your lips and the way your tongue peeks out ever so slightly to wet your bottom lip only for a second. Bokuto has been strung tight lately; he had just returned from a training camp after being away from you for an entire week. He had been so excited to come home to you; he missed your smiles, your soft agreements, the way you came apart and lost yourself under his touch. But instead, he came home to you fully decked out in your ‘no sex’ gear. That’s right, from the ten piles of papers you had to mark, and a brand new box of red felt tips, you were ready for five days of no sleep, no fun, and absolutely nothing frisky with Bokuto. Needless to say, he almost cried when he first stepped into the apartment.

But now, with only ten research papers left, you were practically finished. “Babe, let’s cuddle tonight,” You give him a look, and he deflates only a little before quickly adding, “I’ll be good, I swear,”

“Kou-kun,” you lean in and give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he’s so touch starved that he sits motionless, absorbing the way your lips brush against his skin for as long as he can. “You’re always good.” You move away, and he quickly grabs your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “But if I finish up here today, I won’t be able to see you play tomorrow,”

He’s silent as he contemplates this and then promptly hooks a hand around your waist and pulls you to him. His lips slant over yours, and it only takes you a second to melt into the kiss, hands flying to the hem of his t-shirt to drag him closer. Your lips are warm, and he can taste the sweetness of cherries from the dizzying brush of your tongue. He leans back against the sofa, and you clamber onto his lap, your softness meeting the hard planes of his body as you kiss along the smooth column of his neck. There is nothing sexier than the way you press a kiss before nibbling along his jaw, and his hands automatically find their way under your sleep shirt to squeeze at a naked breast.

You let out a strangled moan and immediately press your body to his chest, halting his movements. Bokuto’s eyes widen as he tentatively brushes a thumb on the underside of your breast, only for you to shudder. “Koutarou, wait,” you pant softly, grabbing at his arm to pull it from your chest. “I’m really sensitive today, and it hurts if you squeeze too roughly,”

“Why?”

“I’m on my period,” you say simply, and he blurts out the first thing that pops into his head.

“So, no sex?”

You shake your head, and his erection throbs painfully in his shorts as it strains against the material, somehow understanding the situation but not exactly cooperating. You get up to clear the table, and when you stretch, he can clearly see the way your nipples poke through the flimsy fabric, almost as if begging for his attention. He’s up, wrapping his arms around your waist and breathing in the scent of your hair. “Can I massage them?”

You pause, and when you don’t respond for a few seconds, he cups one breast through the shirt, palming it softly until you melt under his touch. “O-Okay, but no sex,”

He murmurs out a thank you, his golden eyes sparkling, and he’s glad you don’t question his enthusiasm. Once in the shared bedroom, he strips your shirt off your body watches with hooded eyes as you crawl over to join him at the centre of the bed.

His fingers brush against a peaked nipple before slowly pushing down on the nub, and you let out a soft whine before cupping your other breast yourself, rotating the flesh in small circles.

Bokuto briefly wonders how long it could take to make you cum just from your tits, and he turns it into a personal mission for tonight. He pulls at the free nipple, and you gasp sharply. Your reaction brings a lazy grin on his face, and he brings you to sit on top of him, the outline of his erection pressing against your ass so he can feel at least some sort of friction. He swats your hand away and pulls a nipple into the heat of his mouth, suckling the flesh softly as your thighs tremble around his waist. The first contact of his teeth against your sensitive nipple has your breath hitching deliciously as you chant his name, and he does it again, wanting to commit the sound to memory.

“K-Koutarou, please. I’m going to-”

He switches to the other breast and bites down on the nipple without warning. Your hands fly to the back of his head, pushing him closer to your chest as he soothes the abused skin with long strokes of his tongue. The way you pull at his hair sends sharp jolts of pain, and you realise that each time you tug at his locks, he puts his teeth to work.

You tug at his hair again, and he smiles as he bites down for a second. He takes satisfaction in the way you tremble and grind against him when he tugs at a hardened bud with his fingers, twisting and rolling the nub until it borders on pain and pleasure. He’s going to make you come like this even if he doesn’t get any sleep.

Minutes later, you tremble, your hands feebly pushing at Bokuto, and he leans back only slightly. He watches with wide eyes as you roll your hips, the movements unstable and shaky, almost frenzied. Your fingers squeeze at a breast and pull at the tip of the other, and you let out a breathy moan at the sharp streak of pain that quickly turns into pleasure. “K-Kou-kun. I’m s-so close. So close.” You whine out in both pleasure and frustration and reach for his hands so he can help you finish the job. “Please,”

You don’t notice the way Bokuto’s erection grows bigger from under you. He loves it when you beg for him like this, eyes glazed with lust without a care in the world except for how quickly you’ll come. It’s so intoxicating, and you look so desperate that he can’t help but want to tease you until you’re ruined. But tonight, there was no way; you wouldn’t be getting any help from him until he gets off on the image of you sobbing for his fingers and his tongue.

He watches as your eyes widen when you see him take out his cock and grip himself at the base. The tip is red and weeping, and when he smears the fluid all over the head, he’s delighted to see the way you lick your lips and lean forward, entranced. “What is it, puppy?” He purrs and grips himself at the base before moving up to the tip and coming back down again. The way your eyes follow the movement is incredibly sexy, but it’s the tremble in your lower lip that has him growing harder. “F-Fuck. Shit, you want my cock? I thought you said no sex.”

There’s a whine of frustration, and at this point, he can’t tell if it’s from you or him, but the way you rub your thighs together and tug at your nipples has him lifting his hips, craving the friction he can’t have. There are now tears in your eyes as you sniffle. For a fleeting moment, Bokuto considers sliding your underwear to the side; your period be damned, and fucking you into the mattress until the bedsheet is soaked with your tears. His cock twitches in agreement at the mental image, and a shudder goes down his spine.

Instead, he gives himself a few more rough strokes and closes his eyes, listening to your moans echo in the room before he groans, loud and low, as his release lands messily on the bedsheets.

Bokuto is restless at practice the morning after, and everyone knows this because his performance was downright terrible. On the rare occasions when he did score a point, there was no hey, hey, hey, no burst of confidence, no nothing.

There had been days on end where the team would have done anything short of murder to shut Bokuto up, but now that he had, they had no idea what to do. Well, except Atsumu, of course. The setter sauntered over, his lips stretched into a cocky smirk. “Bokkun, what are ya mopin’ about for? Did yer girlfriend leave ya all needy?”

Bokuto grumbled sourly at the blonde before promptly turning away. “I’m not moping.” And when Atsumu raises an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue, Bokuto only sighs and leans back on his elbows. Surprisingly, that’s all the setter needs to understand the situation and begins to laugh.

The entire situation is infuriatingly unfair, especially since it was, in fact, Atsumu who had drilled in the idea of having sex in semi-public places. Bokuto usually didn’t care to listen to the gossip of others much, unless it was related to volleyball or you. During the training camp, the blond setter had been describing how hot it was to do it in a semi-public place where there was a high chance of getting caught, much to Kiyoomi’s chagrin. Bokuto genuinely cannot bring himself to care because obviously sex feels good all the time, so why would doing it outside make it any different? Atsumu had just tutted when Bokuto explained this to him before asking him about you, and that definitely got his attention.

“Bokkun, do ya know what kinks yer girlfriend has?”

“She doesn’t have any,” Bokuto’s response had been immediate, and Atsumu just stared, wondering if the hyperactive male was just pulling his leg. But he wasn’t - Bokuto genuinely knew you didn’t have any because of course you would tell him as soon as you discovered one, right?

“She seriously never told ya?”

“Maybe she just doesn’t know.”

Atsumu had spluttered indignantly to his excuse, equal parts horrified and insulted that Bokuto could even think about suggesting such a thing.

Needless to say, ever since then, Bokuto has been trying to find out more of the things that make you tick in bed. He’d already found two last night, and his body was already tense, eager to find out more today. Especially since you said you’d be visiting after handing back all the papers to your students. They all wrapped up practice, with Meian giving Bokuto extra laps around the gym. By the time he had finished the required amount, Hinata and Meian were about to leave but had stopped to greet you for a few minutes. The sight of you leaning against the door, your lips pulled up into a soft smile filled him with restless energy and he took a swig of his water before making his way to you.

“Hey, hey, hey!” His voice booms, echoing off the walls and you swivel around to grin at him. There is a collective sigh of relief from the other members as they leave the court gym and he sees the way your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He practically sprints to you and pulls you into a bear hug. He knows he’s sweating and that he probably stinks, but that all takes a back seat as your arms come around to wrap around his waist as you breathe in the feel of him. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod and lean up, puckering your lips to give him a short kiss, and his heart squeezes before he leans down to meet your lips halfway. When you pull back, your face is flushed, and you lean forward to whisper in his ear. “I’m sorry about last night. I’m all better today, we can go wherever you want and do whatever you feel like,”

His golden eyes glint dangerously under the low lighting of the hall, and you immediately know that you’re in trouble. “Now?”

He can see the way your breath hitches and throat constricts as you let out a little whimper. Your voice reaches a higher octave as you whisper out a “Now?” and he suddenly wishes that he could drag you to the locker room in front of everyone. He realises with a start that Atsumu had been right all along and expects the fact to rub him the wrong way, but the thought is pushed to the back as you let out a timid nod.

That’s all he needs. He drags you into the locker room, too impatient to bother with the intricacies of the lock. Everyone had gone home anyway, so what did it even matter? As soon as he sits down, you push his thighs apart and situation yourself between them. Your hands fly to the hem of his gym shorts as you gaze up at him, and the whisper of friction that your fingers provide already has his cock swelling in his boxers.

The first contact your tongue made with his cock has him hardening even further as he sinks his fingers into your hair. He can’t take his eyes off the way your hot tongue glides up the curve of his dick before swirling around the tip and-

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait, baby-Don’t-”

You take him into your mouth, one hand softly massaging his balls, and all the protests die in his throat almost instantly. He chokes at the sight of you on your knees and your pretty, pretty mouth stretched around his fat cock. There are tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you struggle to take him in any further, and there’s nothing in the word that could make him look away. He thrusts his hips up only slightly, taking you off guard and forcing more of his length into your mouth as you gag around his size.

You make a sound at the back of your throat as you drool around his cock, and it sends waves of vibrations throughout his length. Bokuto eases out of your mouth, and the stark coldness that hits the sensitive skin has him hardening even further. “You did so good, puppy,” he pants out his praise and comes up behind you before he pushes you forward so that you’re on your hands and knees. You’re such a pretty sight that he has to stop himself from entering you straight away. “Are you comfortable, babe? Think you can take it like this?”

You nod vigorously and hold his gaze through the mirror. The head of his cock is leaking and angry, and he’s half tempted to bury himself balls deep inside you without warning. But the moment he pushes the tip inside your wet heat, you arch your back, and his hips jerked forward, craving the way your slick walls spammed around his length.

“S-Shit—” Bokuto grits out, relishing the way the unmistakable sound of your arousal squelching around his cock echoes in the locker room. “God, you’re so fucking messy- baby, I can’t—” his words end on a whine and tries to push himself further inside you, his hands going to grip your hair to wrap it around his fingers.

There’s a low guttural moan from you, and when he looks up, his gut clenches at the sight of your thoroughly fucked face. He wants to commit it all to memory - the way your tongue lolls out while your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cry out for him because he’s the only one who can make you feel like this. He pulls at your hair slightly and immediately feels you clench around him.

He does it again, harder.

Your whimpers thunder in his ears, and he leans forward until he has you completely underneath him, chest grazing the back of your shoulders as he braces his entire weight on his arm. His tongue and teeth are relentless on the flushed tips of your ear, laving the sensitive skin before nipping it harshly as he thrusts into you. “You’re such a pretty puppy, aren’t you? Fucked dumb and drooling on my cock,”

You sob at this, your words slurring. “K-Kou, s’close—” His thrusts become short and fast, reaching deeper as your walls dragging along his cock deliciously. The way you’re needy heat is sucking him in leaves him breathless, his hips stuttering with effort as he struggles to go faster and faster and—

Your walls flutter around his girth, clenching down and squeezing so tightly that he can’t help but arch his back, hands gripping your hips to bring you closer, the curve of your ass flush against his abs. He ruts into you harshly, trying to fuck you through your orgasm, and it’s the loud slapping of skin on skin that mixes perfectly with your lewd keens that have his dick spasming and finally sends him over the edge.

For a moment, all he can hear are the heavy breathing as you both try to catch your breaths, skin slick and glistening with sweat, but then his ears perk up at the telltale whisper of footsteps shuffling. Somewhere, right outside the door, a broomstick topples over something, and he swears he can hear the hushed bickering of Atsumu and Kiyoomi.

Thank you for reading :)

Taglist: @lukehemmingsfan101 @the-actual-audrey @Dontmindme:) @potaytopothato @jadasz @momoraen (those in bold could not be tagged).

Click here for my taglist. If you would like to stop being on my taglist, please just send me a message.

#bokuto koutarou #bokuto #bokuto x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto x female #koutarou bokuto #bokuto smut #hq smut #hq x you #hq x reader #hq bokuto #haikyu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu x you #hq x female reader

343 notes · View notes

amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Text

Maeve//i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Request: Could you please do something else with Maeve? Perhaps something where reader works with Maeve on an English project and she's surprised that they have so much in common. She realizes she has feelings for her somehow after that? Sorry that's sort of rubbish, have a swell day/night.

hey! what’s up everybody! i hope everyone is well, and i hope you like this!! title is from ‘the lakes’ by taylor swift!

- English projects are never fun

- I mean, who finds constant stress and a deadline that’s always far too close fun?

- Nobody

- That’s who

- Well apart from Mrs Jones

- Your year 9 English teacher who made every minute of her classes a living hell

- And who mysteriously went missing half way through the year after having a screaming match with a fellow English teacher

- When she was supposed to be teaching you Romeo & Juliet.

- One day she was accusing Miss Newman of being a terrible teacher and purposefully bumping up students grades so she looked better

- And the next day both her and Miss Newman were gone

- And you only got a replacement teacher when you moved into year 10

- Right now though

- Its seems Miss Sands is going through some stuff

- Because not only did she give you an assignment on Friday with a deadline of Monday

- She also chose your partners instead of letting you choose your own

- Which is why you’re stood outside of Maeve’s in the pouring rain

- On a frankly miserable Saturday morning

- It seems the weather knew exactly what sort of weekend you were facing

- And decided to make it even worse.

- By the third knock

- You’re about to give up

- The curtains are still drawn

- And you’ve seen more movement in a graveyard

- Plus

- You kind of already assumed you would be doing the project alone

- Maeve Wiley was known for being very...

- ...independant

- And group projects are no different

- You actually think she may be more independent during group projects

- So as soon as Miss Sands paired you together

- You knew

- You were 99% sure that

- You’d do your thing

- She’d do hers

- And then five minutes before the presentation

- You would figure out a way to connect the two.

- Anywayyyy

- While daydreaming about a time when you won’t have any assignments

- And making awkward, accidental eye contact with Maeve’s neighbours

- The door in front of you opens

- Simultaneously giving you a fright and almost knocking you out

- She yawns and scratches the top of her head

- ‘what are you doing here?’

- She sounds both tired and annoyed and you blink at her a few times before answering

- ‘er - i - the project. for english.’

- It takes her a few seconds to process what you’ve said

- But when she does

- She looks even more miserable than she did five seconds ago

- And you brace yourself for a long weekend

- She sighs and rolls her eyes

- Before slowly opening the door properly and letting you in

- You feel slightly nervous as you walk in

- But you really have no idea why

- It’s not like she’s a complete stranger

- But then again

- She’s not exactly a friend

- ‘don’t worry, i’ve hidden the drugs. i don’t really like to share anyway.’

- ‘what?’ you ask confused and she rolls her eyes again

- She huffs and crosses her arms before nodding to the slightly messy living room

- ‘i get it. we’re a bunch of benefit fraud chavs that do nothing but drink and smoke all day.’

- ‘that’s not what i was thinkin-’

- ‘sure it wasn’t.’ she rolls her eyes and you stare down at the floor. ‘i need to get changed so make yourself at home I suppose.’

- She walks into what you assume is her bedroom and slams the door behind her

- Leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room

- It’s small and slightly cramped

- And most people would say that all the stuff makes it look busy

- But to you

- It’s wonderful

- It’s filled with stories and memories

- Some self explanatory

- Some slightly more bizarre

- Like the wonky blue and yellow clay swan living on the coffee table

- You really want to know the story behind it

- But decide it might be a little early in your partnership to start asking about her attachment to a half swan, half moth looking ornament

- So instead you pick up a pile of books on the dining table and move them onto the floor

- You can hear Maeve opening and closing drawers while humming a familiar tune

- And you feel yourself relax slightly as you place your laptop and books where the books were previously sat

- Even if it does feel like you’re using all of your braincells to try and figure out where you’ve heard it before

- ‘wow, do you actually trust me around that?’

- ‘what?’ you stop humming and look up at her

- She looks between you and the laptop, staring at you expectantly

- ‘oh no. i mean of course i do.’ you blush and she shakes her head before sitting opposite you

- ‘so what do we know about women in fiction?’

- ‘historically they are written as either a femme fatalle type or some sort of innocent angelic being.’

- ‘they still are’

- ‘true’ you agree and flick through your textbook

- ‘why don’t we write about that then?’

- ‘what? how we’re still depressingly far back in the equality movement, despite being told otherwise?’

- She stares at you for a few seconds

- A mixture of shock and surprise

- Before nodding

- And smiling

- An actual genuine smile

- You didn’t even know she could do that

- Well you did

- Of course you did

- But you just haven’t seen it a lot

- Usually when you see Maeve

- She’s either mad, grumpy or very, very, very angry

- But her smiling

- Puts a smile on your face

- And this was definitely not where you thought this was going

- ‘yeah...that’

- ‘okay.’ you shrug. ‘you can do classic literature because i know you prefer them and i’ll cover modern works.’

- ‘how do you know i prefer classics?’

- ‘the pile of books’ you nod towards the floor and she follows your gaze, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. ‘they’re all ripped and folded. you either love them or really, really hate them’

- ‘okay’ she eyes you suspiciously as you focus on your laptop

- And you can feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze

- However as quickly as they were there

- They disappear

- And the two of you fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence.

- After about half an hour

- Maeve stops what she’s doing to stretch

- ‘is it okay if i play some music?’

- ‘sure, it’s your place. do what you want...as long as its not awful’

- ‘and what constitutes as awful?’ she asks, a smirk playing on her lips

- ‘well’

- And with that one question

- Your entire day disappears in front of you

- Laptops and books are closed and long forgotten

- And instead you talk about music and movies

- Books and plays

- Characters that you love and hate

- And the fact that her favourite character is the one you hate the most

- She makes you lunch while you debate between movies and books and which adaptations are good

- And which ones should never have been made

- And you clean up and apologise profusely after a stray cushion (possibly thrown by you) ends up knocking the pan over

- Surprisingly

- She finds it quite funny

- And you let out a relieved sigh

- Soon the sun goes down on another day

- And you’ve barely written two paragraphs done between you

- ‘do you want to stay?’ she asks while your putting your jacket on

- If she’d asked you that this morning

- You would have thought she had lost it

- But now it feels almost inevitable

- And you feel genuinely lucky to be asked

- Not many people get to know Maeve

- The real her

- And that last person she told all of this to broke her heart

- Very publicly

- And she told herself she would never let herself be that vulnerable with someone ever again

- But this just feels right

- For some reason you feel right

- She feels safe with you

- And part of her hates herself for it

- But then again

- She hates herself for not getting to know you sooner

- She feels far too attached to you

- And it’s barely been twelve hours

- You of course agree to stay

- Shocking yourself and her

- And while she sorts to sofa out

- You excuse yourself to the bathroom

- Under the pretences of telling your parents where you are

- It takes two seconds to text them

- And the other 28 to ask yourself

- What the fuck are you doing?

- Why are you agreeing to this?

- Why do you feel like this?

- What are you feeling?

- Who knows?

- Not you

- Great

- Now you’ve been in the bathroom for a suspicious amount of time

- Just get it together, Y/n

- It’s just a study sleepover

- Maeve gives you a questioning look as you leave

- ‘you know how mums are. always worrying about where you are and what you’re doing’

- ‘i wouldn’t actually’ she shrugs and your eyes widen

- ‘oh shit, sorry. i’m so sorry. god, i’m an idiot.’

- ‘it’s fine’ she forces a laugh and you wince. ‘i got you an extra duvet and little women is ready to watch so i can show you that the book is better’

- ‘that’s not what i said and you know it’

- ‘i’m sorry. i can’t hear you over the sound of me being 100% right and you being 100% wrong.’

- ‘you may be good at english, but you suck at maths’

- The next day you wake up to the sun shining through the curtains

- And a clump of Maeve’s hair in your mouth

- You splutter and cough and wake her up quickly

- And she jumps away from you and smacks her head of the table

- The two of you ended up moving the blankets to the floor while watching Pride and Prejudice

- And neither of you bothered to move back

- Maeve yawns and scratches her head

- Exposing a small part of her stomach and you feel yourself become a little breathless

- ‘are you okay?’

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and she eyes you suspiciously

- ‘whatever’ she shrugs and starts making breakfast

- You watch as she pours to bowls of cereal

- Giving you the last of the milk

- And for a second you’re a little worried as to how she knew you liked it

- But then you remember that she also likes it and you had a whole discussion about the best and worst types of cereal at 2am

- And half way through breakfast

- You remember the original reason you’re here

- And both of you curse loudly

- Before rushing to finish eating

-You get half way through your project

- When Maeve asks if you want to go out for a bit

- And well

- She doesn’t need to ask you twice

- And by the time you come back

- The feeling you had last night returns

- And has settled in your stomach

- For the foreseeable future it seems

- It makes you feel both light and heavy at the same time

- And when you look at her

- You feel dizzy

- So you rush to finish the project

- So you can go home and pretend nothing has changed

- And yeah

- With the need to leave

- You get the rest of the assignment done fairly quickly

- But you end up leaving feeling more confused about Maeve as you did when you started this

- Maybe Miss Sands was right about a weekend project

- Any longer and you would have gone insane trying to figure out whatever the hell this is

- You just have to get through tomorrow and then you’ll be okay

- Everything will go back to normal

- You and Maeve can go back to being neutral to each other

- And you won’t have to deal with all of these confusing feelings that have decided to make an appearance for some reason

- Wellll

- Turns out Miss Sands was wrong

- A weekend is not enough time

- And the first few presentations are awful

- To put it nicely

- So you spend the next week in a permanent confused state

- Confused as to why you start looking for Maeve whenever you enter a room

- Confused as to why your heart skips a beat whenever you hear her laugh

- Confused as to why you never want her stop talking in class

- Even if the bell has rung and it’s lunch

- Confused to why you keep looking for excuses to go over to see her

- Despite your assignment being long done

- And even more confused as to why you feel anxious when you’re waiting for her to answer the door

- The next Monday rolls around both painfully slowly and far too quickly

- And while you wait for Ola and Danny to finish their presentation

- Your hands shake with anxiety while your grip your papers

- Maeve reaches over the table and gives them a reassuring squeeze

- But it just makes them shake more and she slowly pulls back

- Your turn can’t come quick enough

- But then it’s over far too quickly

- And you slump back down in your seat disappointed

- Despite Miss Sands’ praise

- Because it’s over

- You no longer have an excuse to hang out with her

- You never talked before

- So why do you care about after

- But there’s so much about her that you want to know

- Like the weird swan/moth hybrid

- And the ugly plate that sits on top of the bookshelf

- You want to be part of these stories

- You want to be able to point to these things and say

- ‘yeah, i know exactly why that is special to you’

- You want to be the reason to add to this random collection of stuff

- You want her to smile when she looks at them because they’ll remind her of you

- You want her to smile when she looks at you

- ‘y/n? are you okay?’ she asks making you jump

- The classroom is now empty and you didn’t even notice the bell go

- ‘ye-yeah’ you nod and grab your bag

- ‘are you sure?’ she grabs your arm forcing you turn around

- ‘whats the weird swan thing on your coffee table?’ you ask and she furrows her eyebrows at you. ‘it’s just i saw it when i first came over and i really want to know the story behind it’

- ‘oh. aimee went through a pottery phase last year and that was the only thing she made that didn’t have a hole in it.’

- ‘and the plate?’

- ‘birthday present from my neighbours’

- ‘they got you a plate?’

- ‘yeah, they don’t have any kids’

- ‘clearly’

- Silence fills the room and you stare at the peeling posters behind her head

- You can feel Maeve move closer to you and your breath hitches when she stops a few centimetres in front of you

- She grabs your hand and squeezes it again

- And your heartbeat increases

- ‘y/n?’

- ‘yeah?’

- ‘i’m really, really confused right now. like more confused that i have ever been in my life. but what i do know, is that if i watch you walk out of that door without saying anything first, then i’d regret it for the rest of my life. i’ve only ever felt like this about boys before, but now i feel this and more about you and i have no idea where it’s come from or what i need to do, but i do know i need to tell you. because otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair for either of us’ she whispers and you stare at her wide eyed

- ‘can i kiss you?’ she asks and you nod your head quickly

- Slowly she leans in

- Her eye flutter closed and you follow

- Your lips brush over hers

- Her hands wrap around you waist to pull you close

- And then your lips connect

- And you feel everything change

- She kisses you slowly

- And when you pull away you both feel breathless

- Her cheeks are bright red

- And there’s a shy smile playing on her lips as she looks at you bashfully

- And all of a sudden you feel really grateful for Miss Sands and her personal issues

- Although you really hope they are resolved now

- For your sake as well as hers

support my writing! if you want!

#sex education #sex education imagine #maeve wiley #maeve wiley imagine #maeve wiley x reader

352 notes · View notes

honey-harper-official · 3 years

Text

Hey umm so in light of NEVER having scene or read about a character with eczema (or skin problems at all for that matter) I'm going to go over how to write and draw eczema without being rude and making people self conscious about it.

Some general stuff:

This shit is PAINFUL! Like EXTREMELY PAINFUL sometimes

It may look red and swollen

It may look very dry and flaky

On darker skinned people it's not always going to look bright red. It's going to be patches of darker skin with more red undertones

It may look very rough skin and slab covered.

It can cause immense fatigue

It can make mobility hard

It may look bad but feel like nothing

It may look fine but feel painful

We can't stop itching. It's literally painful to not itch. It makes my thrash around if I can't itch

I have spent night being exhausted but unable to sleep bc of eczema and how painful it is

A flare up is caused by literally anything and often times we don't know the cause

It's usually on the back of the knees or the insides of the arms but can appear anywhere. Other popular spots invlude the neck, face, hands, and wrists

It causes hyper pigmentation but it's mostly notice in the summer or after summer since you're tan and the patch goes away, leaving untanned skin and the place where the patch was drained of a bit of color anyways

Nearly everyone who's had it has it on the inside of their arms and has had it there forever. I have hyper pigmentation there however it's in a patchy way. A lot of people have paler inside arms but mine isn't a smooth transition of color.

Hyper pigmentation does happen and it's not always permeant. It can just last until the summer tan is gone or it can take literal months to even years to fade which is what's happening to my arms at the moment

It will come in patches at random places at random times though usually stays forever on places like the inside of arms and legs

If it's on the inside of one arm then it's going to show up on the inside of the other arm. Same goes for the back of the knees however there might be one side that's typically worse then the other. It can switch back and forth but unless you're on medication one side will be noticslly worse then the other though both will not be looking good

It can stay one place for a few years and go away but then show up in a new place and stay there for years.

Medication and shots are a thing that we use

Steroid creams and prescription lotion are also things we use

No one is using scented bath and body works lotion. Scented stuff irritates it and makes it burn. Take your Bath and Body Works and leave.

I'm not just going to pick up any lotion or cream at the store either. I'm doing careful research on what will work best, finding what works best for me, and sticking with it

A lot of things will make it burn such as lotions, perfumes, and even water

A lot of people wear jackets and hoddies to cover it up

I also wear a special hoodie for flare ups bc the material feels nicest and I don't want to ruin my other clothes with all the lotions and stuff

Certain materials are itchy and irritating. (Looking at you wool I hate your guts) while others are soothing and comfortable (cotton and silk and bamboo fabric are life savors)

Random and obscure allergies that cause it to flare up

When a patch clears up and goes from rough to soft I will continue to touch it bc I'm excited and I forgot what it feels like to have my skin like that. I once had it on my eyelids and cheeks and once it cleared up I cried and wouldn't stop touching my face bc it didn't hurt to make facial expressions and it felt so nice to have my skin back

Speaking of which it can and will show up on your eyelids and make them swell up

It can get into your brows and you'll lose hair in your brows bc of it

I don't know one person with eczema who hasn't felt self conscious about it or try to hide it even if it's nothing to be ashamed for

Doctors will take one look at people with eczema (especially those who aren't skinny white boys) and pass it off as a rash. Dermatologists do this and actually allergists have been more helpful with clearing up my skin in my personal experience

You will get super greasy hair from all the lotion. If it's on the neck or face your hair will catch in the lotion and make it greasy. It doesn't help that it can be painful to shower and stuff with eczema

Baths >>>> showers. Especially since there's a lot of stuff people will soak in to help. Salt baths and bleach baths are a thing to help kill bacteria and things like putting in mint leaves and that sort of stuff help cool and soothe it

Ironically most of the lotions I've been given I ended up being allergic to. This is something some other people I know experienced. Lavender is supposed to help but it just makes things worse for a lot of people I know ironically believe it or not

Also it's an AUTO IMMUNE DISEASE! It's going to weaken the immune system and make it easier to get sick. The real kicker is when you get sick you get more prone to infections and your skin will get infected and it's a downward and very painful spiral

Writing:

Have your character have a flare up. Have their skin go from fine to red and itchy and dry and maybe a little bloody

Scabs. We've got them. I have scars from scratching at scabs from eczema bc they're itchy. Your character most likely will too and probably did so as a child as well bc it's a scab vs a kid

Have them go to bed early bc theyre tired

It makes sense for them to go to doctors appointments specifically for their eczema and to have it done often. Look into things like having your characters go to get shots often or doing light therapy

Have them feel under the weather bc of it. Make them take a benadryl and clock out in a blanket with a material they like

Silk pillowcases are great for skin. So are bamboo materials. I know a lot of people who've invested in these including myself to make sleeping and drying off more comfortable. Chances are your character and their family have invested in them too and a lot of household materials will be like that or they will have their own special towels and bed sheets that need to be washed separately from everyone else and need to be washed at the right time so your character has towels and bed sheets

Give them allergies. They're probably allergic to something that causes it and usually it's some chemical like fragrance jn perfume or over processed foods too. A lot cleaning supplies make me flare up and dust is a big one too. Lavender and chamomile are ones which is very ironic based on how people tell us to use those to help

Coconut oil and stuff like she's butter. I guarantee you that your character has or will use it at some point to help with eczema. They're honestly life savers

Have them keep a jacket and some prescribed lotion with them. At night have them put on a bunch of different lotions and skin care stuff and probably even gloves or socks over their hands to help lock in moisture. However they will also probably rub these things against their skin to scratch

Write a character with clear looking skin but hyper pigmentation and taking shots to keep a flare up at bay. Dupixent is a shot a lot of people are using and it works wonders

Gloves when sleeping. Put on lotion and then gloves and have them go to bed and then be frustrated when they can't swipe on their phone.

It's okay to have them feel gross about it just don't make it happen often. After I put on all my lotions I feel super greasy and gross because of it

Have other characters hype them up despite their eczema. It's not a bad thing. It doesn't make us ugly. Stop acting like non perfect skin is a terrible thing. When I'm down or upset about it my friends will hype me up about it

However while I can go out without hiding my eczema and still feel good about it that doesn't mean that myself or any character you're writing with it won't wish that their skin wasn't clear. More so bc it hurts and is uncomfortable then anything.

Clothes made from cotton and silk and that stuff are good for every day clothes but also fancy stuff if need be

Speaking of clothes do not put them in a wool sweater that shit sucks and so do a lot of mixed fibers. There's special clothes that are made without seams or with special materials for people who have textural issues and I have gotten stuff from those places. Always keep a few long sleeves in my closet for my worst days and have a long sleeve from my favorite brand in nearly every color and pattern. Your character will probably do the same the second they find a piece of clothing that feels good on their skin. However eventually all the lotions will make the insides knit and the clothing will be stained darker if you use them for flare ups after putting in lotion

My mom has come home and dropped a pile of new shirts on my bed because they were from the brand that makes clothes that are safe for my skin and she got them in every color or style. Your character will have parents that will do the same. I don't know if it's a universal eczema experience but if your character has parents who are really concerned about it and arw very involved and caring then it makes sense for something like that to happen

Designated flare up shirts are a thing. I will put it on and wear it to bed or to school or anywhere

Give them a designated flare up shirt that they where for a while in a flare up. However also give them a hoodie they like bc trust me they're gonna wear a specific hoodie when there's a flare up

If you're going to have a random character point it out or ask questions, it's completely logical for your character to be annoyed about it. I know other people are just curious but when a bunch of people bombard you for something you would obviously know is there it's very tiring

Have them change clothes when they get home. It helps and I do it and so do other people. Don't want to being things from the outside into the household.

They aren't going to put on perfume for a fancy evening and chances are their friends won't either because that stuff irritates it so much even if we aren't the ones wearing it

It's okay to say that the skin was red and patchy. It's okay to say it cleared up

Don't say that the character looks like they have spots or scales or looks like a tomato or stuff like that. It's really rude and the amount of times I've been made fun of and told I have lizard skin is horrifying

It can look anything from a little bit of red and pink to being full on scabs and blood and puss all over ones arm or body part.

Let them itch and then have someone tell them stop itching. It's annoying but realistic. Points if your character immediately stops but tries to find some way to still itch or glares at the other person or says some remark back. Their parents are going to be the number one people to tell them to stop itching

Eczema is uncomfortable. Have them be uncomfortable sometimes because of it

You don't have to make the whole story about it but include little things like them itching or before bed putting on a bunch of lotion. Have them have a favorite outfit bc it feels best on their skin

Use words like: red, patchy, dry, burning, itchy, stiff, and swollen

Avoid things like: spots (for hyper pigmentation), any animal like description, comparison jokes to things like "oh they're as red as that sweater". Stop comparing our skin to objects and animals. It's not funny. This may be a personal thing but it's a huge let peeve if mine and one of the reasons I've always been self conscious about it

Please don't have people make rude comments about it or have random people ask a lot of questions I'm seriously begging you. If you do at least have then give some sort of come back or have the other character asking questions approach it in a more polite and sympathetic way. It's so annoying how many times people will walk up to me and point at my eczema and go "what happened to you?" Or even worse there have been people who think they're going to catch some disease from me. I've dropped my pencil and the person by it kicked it over to me instead of handing it to me bc they took one look at my skin and made a disgusted face. So as realistic as it is so have those things I'm really fucking annoyed by those types of comments and don't want them in my books unless there's a good comeback please and thank you

People are very mean about it and it's the source for the self consciousness so do your best to avoid that bc while I get the person saying it is going to be framed as mean or rude it's still :/

Drawing:

put down your base skin tone

Pick a red tone off of the base

Pick a lighter tone of of the base

Do the same with your shadow and highlight colors

Now you have your skin tone color palette

Draw on white patches and red patches to the proper base tones you used

Don't blend them out. They're distinctive

Just put them on the inside of arms or on fingers and face and neck and legs and wrists at random in blots of all shapes and sizes

Don't draw it as a pattern

Don't use a splatter brush

Feel free to draw on scabs and dark spots here and there

You don't need to draw it like scales or show how dry and flaky it can be if you're a really realistic or more detailed with your art style

Use references

Boom. Done.

It's literally just dry and red skin. We've all had that before. The only difference is it's wide spread. If you can draw skin then you can draw eczema on it

It's not hard.

As always do research! Ask questions! Just be nice and have fun with it! Eczema isn't a big deal but I can't tell you how much it would mean to me to see a character with eczema!

#writing resource #writing reference #eczema #writing eczema #drawing #drawing resource #drawing eczema

797 notes · View notes

genshin-impact-writings · 3 years

Note

Hi!! May I have a tall cold brew with peppermint syrup and strawberry drizzle for Diluc please?

Hey there! Thank you so much for your request and your patience. I wasn't really sure where I wanted to go with this one and I also had to deal with writer's block while working on this, so I really hope it still came out somewhat okay. Anyways, here's your drink: a tall cold brew with peppermint syrup and some strawberry drizzle on top! <3

Prompts: angst, character A taking care of character B when they’re sick, “You’re so warm.” + “You’re shivering. Here, take my jacket.” (400 followers event: JJ's coffee shop)

Fever – Diluc x gn!reader

Dragonspine was beautiful at this time of the day. The snow glistened in the golden light of the rising sun and the sky was painted in the most gorgeous shades of orange, red and light blue as the stars and the moon slowly faded until, in a couple of hours, the approaching night would bring them out again.

You craned our neck, using your hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight. In the distance, you could see the silhouette of Mondstadt’s cathedral, its stony façade almost glowing in the sunrise. It was a breathtaking sight, and for a few moments, you just stood there and gazed at the town you had grown to love so much that you couldn’t imagine living somewhere else.

The only thing you’d probably never get used to was that damn cold on Dragonspine. Your breath was pluming in the frosty air, and your fingertips already started to feel numb, although you had picked the warmest gloves you owned when you got dressed for your mission.

It wasn’t unusual that the Knights sent someone to Dragonspine to collect their Chief Alchemist’s newest research date, so you came here quite often and knew what expected you but today was the first time that none of the other knights accompanied you. They were all busy with other commissions and while Jean had asked you to postpone your trip, you had insisted to go today. The data was important; the local alchemists needed them as soon as possible, and you really weren’t known for being unreliable. The only problem you had encountered was that no one was allowed to go to Dragonspine alone. The mountain was too dangerous and unpredictable to explore it on one’s own, so Jean had told you that she’d only allow you to go if you found someone to come with you.

With a barely noticeable smile you glanced at the man by your side, his flaming red hair even brighter against the pale, snowy background. It was rare that Diluc agreed to officially help the Knights with their matters but you knew that he could hardly deny you anything – which was probably the only reason why he was here with you now. Maybe he also didn’t want you to go to Dragonspine completely alone but in the end, you didn’t care much about his reasons. All that mattered was that you could collect Albedo’s data without further delays.

“Ready?”

Diluc gazed back at you. “Yes. Let’s get this done.”

In silence, the two of you made your way uphill. You pulled your scarf up higher to keep the lower half of your face warm but against the harsh, cold wind that steadily grew stronger, the fabric didn’t help much. A few minutes on this damn mountain and you were already starting to shiver. No wonder that most people avoided Dragonspine like the plague.

You hunched your shoulders as another gust of freezing cold wind hit you. With a deep sigh, you said, “I don’t understand why Albedo couldn’t have picked a warmer place for his research. I mean, yeah, the landscape is really pretty and I bet there are a lot of things to discover up here but it’s so freaking cold. I really don’t know how he hasn’t frozen to death yet.”

“Don’t ask me,” Diluc replied, watching you from the corner of his eye. It was obvious that you were cold, not just from the way you tried to adjust your scarf to cover more of your face. Your whole posture told him that the cold gave you a hard time today – a lot more than it did usually.

With a frown, he stopped in his tracks. “Wait a second,” he said and took off his coat in one swift movement, handing it to you without any hesitation. “You’re shivering,” he explained when you gave him a questioning look. “Here, take my jacket. I don’t want you to get sick.”

You stared at his coat. “Are you sure?”

Diluc shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” A faint smile flashed over his face as you raised your eyebrows and gave him another skeptical look. “Just take it, okay?”

“Thank you,” you mumbled while you slipped on his coat over your own jacket, indulging in his comforting scent that surrounded you immediately and the warmth of the soft fabric. You reached out for his hand, both to thank him once again and to drag him along. “We should hurry to get to Albedo’s base camp. It’s too cold to wander around without a coat – even for you.”

Exactly four days later, you knew that it had been a mistake to accept Diluc’s offer. His forehead was covered in cold sweat and he was shivering, despite the pile of blankets you had put over his body to keep him warm. Incoherent mumbles escaped his slightly parted, chapped lips as he tossed and turned in his sleep, suffering from yet another fever dream. It pained you to see him like this, very well aware that it was your fault that he was sick. If you hadn’t taken his jacket, he wouldn’t be in this condition right now.

Barbara had checked on him a couple of hours ago, warning you that it might get worse before he was going to feel better. “His fever is pretty high,” she had said, her hand resting on his forehead. “I can send you some herbs that will help to lower his temperature but other than that, all we can do is wait. But please don’t worry, (Y/N), he will be fine.”

You knew that she was right. After all, Barbara knew exactly what she was talking about when it came to injuries and illnesses, and the medical tea you had prepared following her instructions would surely help him, but still, you couldn’t stop worrying about him. His skin was even paler than usual and even the color of his hair seemed to be duller than normally. He looked absolutely terrible and he probably felt even worse.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled and leaned forward to brush a strand of hair out of his face. Beneath your fingertips, his skin felt burning hot and freezing cold at the same time, and you reached out for the damp cloth on the nightstand to gently dab away the sweat on his forehead. “This is all my fault.”

He mumbled something in his sleep again, a painful reminder that he’d contradict you if he were awake, insisting that the only reason for his condition was his own stupidity. And of course, you’d disagree until the conversation resulted in playful bickering.

But he wasn’t awake. And all you could think of was how much it sucked that you could do nothing to make him feel better.

A couple of hours later, Diluc finally woke up from his confusing dreams. He still felt like absolute trash, you could see it in his eyes, but somehow, he managed to crack a smile when he spotted you curled up in an armchair right next to the bed.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse and raspy, but it still made a wave of relief wash over you to hear him talk. “Hey yourself,” you replied and closed the book you had been reading half-heartedly over the past few hours before leaning in to put your hand on his forehead. His temperature was still too high but at least, he was awake now. “You’re so warm… How are you feeling?”

With a quiet groan, Diluc closed his eyes again. “Horrible.”

“Do you want some tea? Or a glass of water?”

“No… I think I just want to go back to sleep.”

“Oh. Okay.” Somehow, a part of you had hoped that he would magically feel better as soon as he woke up but of course that had been nothing more than wishful thinking. A cold as severe as his couldn’t be cured by a few hours of restless sleep, so it was completely normal that his body screamed for more resting time. “Do you want me to leave?”

He shook his head.

“Okay,” you repeated. “I’ll stay.”

“Come here,” he mumbled, shifting a bit to make some room for you in the bed. “Please. I don’t want to be alone. Unless,” a coughing fit interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, and he took a deep breath before continuing, “unless you’re afraid to pick up a cold.”

With an indignant huff, you climbed into the bed, draping your arm over the blankets in an attempt to hug him before craning your neck to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Get some rest,” you told him softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider reblogging. I'd really appreciate the support. <3

Taglist: @blissmal, @aimicoos, @childe-support, @rim0na,@the-gayest-sky-kid

#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #diluc x gn!reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #diluc ragnvindr imagine

88 notes · View notes

strangestcase · 3 years

Text

loving how Henry jekyll is an unreliable narrator but for like a variety of reasons.

like half of the stuff he knows he's omitting to preserve his privacy and dignity, obv, the other half he tells Gabriel is glaringly full of both his own personal bias and his need to distance himself from his own mistakes (including murder), but also some parts he might not even remember 100% crystal clear because Dissociation Is A Thing, and also he was high on cocaine most of the time, and also he didn't want to straight up say "I saw the opportunity to jump over the edge and did it, because I've got an impulse control problem and it's in my nature to fuck up" to Gabriel's face.

he knows he's done bad things and tells us so. he admits he was too arrogant and that believing he had a moral high ground even though he was Secretly An Asshole was a shitty thing to do but what can you do about it? it's now in the past and it can't be changed. he knows he's gone off the deep end and doesn't like the prospect of living guilt-free anymore if that means losing his entire personality to a fabricated persona. he SAYS THAT. he knows he can be a jerk sometimes and Gabriel honestly must know Henry can be a jerk sometimes but I guess you just... can't go ahead and tell him you indulged in it, no matter how much you regret it now.

even if that was easy it still hurts to admit you CAN be a terrible person sometimes and in Henry's case he's... literally drugged himself into a terrible person. Henry manages to write down that he killed some guy and enjoyed it and is sickened by the fact he FELT like that even if it was in a heavily altered mental state. like... do I really have the potential to be a murderer? was I really that close to hurting more people for my own pleasure? try admitting THAT.

I guess that's why he also switches to a third person. it's easier to lie to both Gabriel and himself and say he's a victim to his brain, which, fair enough, he IS, but it's not like it's an external force. it must have started some way. and ding ding ding! Henry created THAT in the first place and indulged in THAT in the first place and now is reaping the consequences. as much as it's easy to go "ha, told you so!" (because really? do all mad scientists believe they're exempt from consequences? actually I know the answer to that question and it's "yes") he's still suffering because of it

it's just so much easier to lie to yourself and everyone else. he's spent the whole book- no, his whole LIFE doing that, to stay safe, to stay loved, to stay alive. I guess that now he does so to stay sane but I doubt that's gonna help- by the end of his narration he explicitly states he's slipping rapidly, dissociating to hell and back, and is feeling his sense of self fade away while he's sleep deprived, physically weak, and haunted and tormented by both his own bad choices and himself of all people.

he's only not a reliable narrator because he doesn't let himself be. and even though a lot of the things Henry says aren't necessarily all that happened, it's the story from his perspective the one that explains it all. we're meant to take what he says at face value only because he's the only person who knows all what happened, and he's being as truthful as he needs to be. yet he's still choosing how he tells it.

this guy isn't even half a villain he's just a pile of let's say interesting choices in a trench coat pretending to be human and bitterly admitting that their attempt at transcendence not only failed spectacularly but that they enjoyed at least half of the descent into madness and now just want to get off mr bones wild ride but is too late to do so.

that's why I like him so much as a character. sometimes you go "OH YOU FUCKING BASTARD IM GOING TO STRANGLE YOU YOU LITTLE LYING BASTARD!" but most of the time it's "shit man... that must suck... shit..."

catch me here writing an essay psychoanalyzing a dead fictional man.

anyway. Henry Jekyll needs so much therapy and if he had gone to therapy BEFORE this entire shitshow of bad choices had even started nothing would have happened. Henry Jekyll the normal sane scientist with normal and sane ideas. the end.

#long post #long ass post #jekyll and hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #jh #gothic fiction #gothic literature #gothic lit #gothic horror #classic literature

42 notes · View notes

negasonicimagines · 3 years

Text

Tell Me I'm Not Funny

Request: darkandmysteriousbutheartofgold!ellie and wholesomeanddoesn'tunderstandwhyelliedoesn'tlikeher!reader where they're both part of the friend group but ellie just thinks reader is straight and messing with her pls

Notes: I don’t usually write MCU!Peter, so if he comes up in any future fics (like as the reader’s stepdad 👀 I’ve loved spideypool longer than I’ve loved Negasonic) you can safely assume it’s Andrew Garfield. But, for this time, this is MCU!Peter. Everyone in the friend group is 18-20, just to be clear.

This really isn't my best work, but it's a fun little slice of life piece. A lot of my ideas are pretty cinematic, I can picture them in my head but sometimes those pictures don't really translate into words. I may revisit this one day.

Warnings: D-slur (reclaimed by Ellie in one line), allusions to prior assault (an unwanted kiss that could've been more had another character not stepped in), and that's about it. Oh, and a little swearing, but this is an imagine for a character from Deadpool. If you can't handle swearing, you're on the wrong blog.

Synopsis: You’re into Ellie, but she’s with your good friend Peter. She treats you like you don’t even exist, and in the few instances she does acknowledge you, it’s usually just to make some sarcastic remark. You’re head-over-heels, though, and decide to deal with your unrequited love by writing her a song she’ll never hear.

“Fuck, that movie was terrible,” Michelle groans. “I’m just glad it was a matinee show and we didn’t have to pay as much to see it.”

“The special effects were good, but can’t Disney just leave stuff alone?” Peter agrees.

“Next thing you know they’ll be making a live action Toy Story, as if the original wasn’t traumatizing enough. I don’t want to imagine Watermelon as a sentient being. She’s seen some shit,” you snicker.

“Who’s Watermelon?” Ellie asks with a dark chuckle, and you clam up. How had you forgotten she was here?

“Oh, uh, nobody.”

“Don’t tell me you still sleep with a stuffed animal,” she snarks. “You really do need to grow up.”

“Don’t be mean, Ellie,” Peter protests.

“Watermelon is cute, everybody likes cute things!” Yukio adds.

“I think a live-action Toy Story could be cool,” Ned says. “It’d look really good if they did stop-motion animation.”

“Oh, you’re right!” you chirp. “It’d be quite the undertaking, but it would look badass.”

“I think you’re using that term a little loosely,” Ellie grumbles, and you have to stop yourself from frowning, instead you laugh it off. Why does she always pick on you? Sure, she’s got a witty remark for everybody, but she’s way harder on you. It hurts, she really is so gorgeous and funny and mysterious and everything you want in a woman, but she acts like she can’t stand you.

Ellie and Peter head off together, Peter still hasn’t gotten around to getting his license and Ellie seems happy to give him a ride. You really don’t stand a chance.

You and the others pile up in MJ’s SUV for some late-night band practice.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” you admit to Yukio in the furthest row back.

“You can,” she insists. “You’re a way better singer than Lola, anyways.”

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to give her the wrong impression, I-”

“For the millionth time, Y/N, you didn’t. If she hadn’t left the band, we would’ve kicked her out. Not just for cheating on me, but for hurting you.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Why can’t you sing instead?”

“Because I’m flat.”

“Yukio, breast size doesn’t have anything to do with singing ability, you’ve just gotta practice,” you joke.

“Shut up!” she giggles, punching you in the arm. “Plus, when you sing, the songs are being sung as they were written. We’re getting the real feelings.”

“Speaking of… I have something new I’m thinking about sharing tonight. Do you mind if I text you the demo?”

“Ooh, a first look! Hell yes!”

You text her the audio file and she puts in a wireless earbud, nodding along. Her smile gets wider and wider as she listens, and when she’s done, her assessment shocks you.

“Oh my gosh. You’re into Ellie.”

“What?!” you squeak. “No way!”

“You are! But, uh-”

“Don’t even say it. I know I don’t have a chance in hell. She only tolerates me for the sake of you and Peter.” Despite the gloominess of your tone, Yukio gets a mischievous glint in her eye, it confuses you. But, that’s just Yukio. Her thoughts are all over the place; she and Ellie balance each other out that way. They dated a couple of years ago, but it didn’t work out. They decided they were better off as friends.

“Screw that other song, we’re using this as the lead single. Everybody’s gonna love it, do you have the sheet music?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s in my bag.”

“Awesome.” Yukio’s grinning like she’s won something. Is the song that good? “We’ll have to practice this one a lot, we definitely need to have it ready by the concert this Friday.”

Right. Liz’s 19th birthday party. Apparently Peter had convinced her to let the band play, it’d be cheaper than hiring a more established artist.

“Our first paying gig? I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you remind her. She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“We’re mostly gonna be playing covers of Liz’s favorite songs, and she only has so many. We’ve gotta beef up the setlist with originals, and this is perfect! Has that pop-y fun vibe, it’ll fit right in.”

“Yeah, but if it’s that obvious how I feel about her after one listen-”

“Only because I already had a hunch after Daft Pretty Boys,” Yukio clarifies cheerily, and you sigh.

“Fair enough.”

The gang makes it to Michelle’s house, travelling down to the side door and going into the basement from there. MJ’s parents have encouraged her creativity from day one, and were ecstatic when the band was formed. You speculate that they’re mostly happy that she’s made friends. Writing and photography can be lonely hobbies.

“Y/N has something new for us!” Yukio chirps.

“That fast?” Ned’s surprised as you hand him the sheet music. He skims it. “Holy shit, this is a wicked solo! Thanks, Y/N!”

“Well, I’m hoping highlighting everybody else’s talent will disguise my lack thereof,” you chuckle.

“Don’t be stupid, we’ve all heard you sing backup,” MJ says. “You’re Ryan Ross, she’s Brendon Urie. I’m just glad we booted her out before she decided she was gonna be the only pangolin in The Pangolins.”

Everyone laughs at that.

“Let’s try it,” Michelle continues, and everybody agrees. After a sound check and a few runs of the song, it’s still clumsy, especially on your part. You’re not really used to playing and singing at the same time, outside of backup vocals, which require far less focus.

“I suck,” you mumble, but it happens to be into the microphone.

“You don’t!” Ned insists.

“With that attitude, we’re not going anywhere,” Yukio says. You hate it when she gets to the tough love stage of her support. You wish she’d stay in the shallow reassurances stage, it’s easier to brush off. “You wouldn’t be the lead singer if we all thought you sucked. We would’ve just put an ad in the paper. You’re awesome, get over it!”

You sigh.

“Fine. Thank you.”

“Say it,” she insists.

“I’m awesome,” you huff, it’s hard not to smile when Yukio tries to look serious.

“Damn straight,” Yukio says. “Or, I guess not, considering that was about Ellie.”

“Yukio!” you squeal.

“That’s about Ellie?!” Ned exclaims.

“Obviously,” MJ scoffs, fiddling with her tuners.

“Is it that obvious?!” You can’t help but feel embarrassed. Ellie probably knows exactly how you feel, maybe that’s why she dislikes you so much. Her boyfriend’s stupid friend has a crush.

“Wait, but at the beginning…” Ned trails off, before laughing. “Oh my gosh, I get it.”

“Get what? Oh… Y/N, have I ever told you how much I love you?” MJ asks.

“I- I love you, too?” You’re puzzled by their words, but you’ve got enough on your plate.

“Let’s go ahead and practice some of Liz’s favorites while we’re here,” Yukio suggests. “It’s a pretty big set list.”

You practice until dinner, getting a pizza and deciding to make a night of it since it was a little late for Michelle to be dropping you all off at your assorted residences.

You all sleep on a pallet in the basement, and despite your worries, you manage to get some rest.

Over the next few days, The Pangolins practice at every free moment, until it’s finally time for the party.

“So, just pictures of everything?” Oh, shit. She’s not supposed to be here. How are you supposed to sing that song with her here?

“Yeah! I know with how many people are coming, I’m probably not going to get as much time as I want with everyone, so pictures will be a good way to remember the night.”

“Why not just invite less people?” Ellie wonders.

“I want all my friends to be here,” Liz explains. “How’s the sound check going, Y/N?”

“It’s going great,” you say into the microphone, demonstrating the quality and volume with a smile. “Thanks for letting us play here tonight.”

“Well, Peter said you guys are great. Are you really gonna debut your best song so far tonight?”

“Oh, um,” you stutter, stepping away from the microphone. “Maybe not.”

“What? Oh, come on, please, it’ll make the night even more special! You’re playing covers of all my old favorites, sing me my new favorite!” Liz presses, but she’s not being demanding or bratty, she seems genuinely excited.

“If the birthday girl says so, who am I to say no?” you concede. Hopefully Ellie will be too distracted taking pictures. “You have way too much faith in me.”

“If you don’t quit with the self-deprecation, I’m gonna duct tape your mouth shut,” MJ interjects.

“But, Daddy, how will I say my safe word?” you tease, giggling at your own joke with the rest of the group. Yukio’s laugh seems the loudest. Ellie glares.

“We should practice a song!” Ned suggests.

“Ooh, a private show!” Liz seems excited.

“Any requests?” you ask her. Ellie’s resting scowl intensifies. If she’s more pissed off the more you open your mouth, you’re not sure how she’s gonna survive a night of you singing without going nuclear.

“Oh, oh, Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne, please?”

“You’ve got it,” you agree.

The song goes smoothly.

“What happened to the old singer?” Ellie asks, clearly unimpressed.

“You didn’t tell her?” you ask Yukio, grateful for the excuse to turn away from the sharp-tongued girl you adore.

“Didn’t want her to get the wrong impression,” Yukio explains. “She already makes enough rude comments towards you.” Yukio leans over her drum kit to give Ellie a pointed look.

“Oh, wait, shit, I didn’t mean it like that. You, uh, sound good, Y/N.”

You can’t help but whip your head back to look at her with a flabbergasted expression.

“What?! It’s true,” Ellie defends herself.

“Uh, yeah, but you just said something nice. About me. Liz, do you mind checking her for a fever?”

Liz obliges for the sake of going along with the joke before quickly withdrawing her hand.

“Jeez! I know you were kidding, but she’s burning up,” Liz declares.

“My internal temperature is higher due to my mutation,” Ellie quickly explains, looking a bit bashful. “Besides, I say nice shit about Y/N all the time.”

“No, you don’t,” the whole band says in unison, including you.

“Well, clearly I shouldn’t if everyone’s gonna make a big fucking deal about it,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna go get some pictures of the decorations before there’s a bunch of fucking people here to block them.”

She stomps off in her heavy boots, and The Pangolins get back to work, putting on the final touches and making sure all the blocking looks right.

Soon enough, guests start flooding in, and Liz zips around to greet them, eventually meeting up with Peter and keeping him with her. He and Liz eventually pull Ellie away from her picture-taking, confident she’s done enough and needs to just relax and enjoy the party.

So much for distracting herself with work, she thinks.

They sit on the couch and eat, the dining room was monopolized by The Pangolins due to its elevation and space.

Ellie’s mesmerized by the way your fingers move until she hears Peter talking to Liz. They really are a cute couple.

“You really do need to hang out with us. Yukio told me Y/N thinks Ellie and I are a thing,” he says.

“Gross, you’re like my annoying little brother,” Ellie remarks.

“And you’re like my bitchy older sister,” Peter retorts with a shit-eating grin.

“Both of you, quiet! They’re about to play the new song. You’re in for a real treat, Ellie.”

“What does it have to do with me?”

Liz gives Peter a confused and slightly irritated look.

“I haven’t said anything to her, I didn’t know how,” Peter squeaks, blushing a little at the look in his girlfriend’s eyes.

“Explain, quickly,” Ellie demands.

But, then you start to sing again.

“Y/N-” Peter starts.

“Shut up.”

“But you asked-”

“I said, shut up,” Ellie insists.

“You know me as your boyfriend's goofy friend. I seem to have this effect on women, and your friends aren't as goofy as I am. I try my best to keep you entertained, always laughing at the jokes you are saying. I nod my head when you make a point, oh oh…

“Kiss me, kiss me with your eyes closed! Whisper that your heart shows all I want is you, yeah, you… Hold me, hold me I'm your bunny! Tell me I'm not funny, tell me I’m legit! ‘Cause I feel weak, in your hands and your feet… A precious end, I’ll never feel your touch…”

Ellie continues to listen to the song, all expression drained from her face. All the yearning in the words and your voice, all you want is…

Ellie looks at Peter, who’s looking at her with a triumphant smile.

“I told you.”

Ellie feels like she’s about to faint. She notices you’re talking to Liz— when did she leave? —your hand over your mic. Despite the knowledge that Liz is taken, Ellie gets jealous. You look so happy to be talking to Liz, to just about any girl you talk to.

She wishes you’d smile at her that way.

You nod at whatever Liz said, and the band starts packing away their instruments. Liz sets up her phone on some Bluetooth speakers, and songs that sounded so much better when you were singing them start to play.

No! Ellie internally protests. Sing for me again, please, sing that stupid song about how you think I don’t like you.

Yukio’s dragging you somewhere. Gosh, Ellie wishes it was her holding your hand.

Suddenly, though, you and Yukio are approaching her. She knows what she has to do.

“So, what’d you think of our- Eek! Finally!”

Ellie parts from the kiss to tell her to fuck off and not ruin the moment before kissing you again.

“Holy fucking shit,” you breathe. “Uh, I thought you were-“

“Dating Peter?! Seriously?! Do I need to write ‘dyke’ on my fucking forehead? I practically already have with the way I dress and act and-”

“I, uh, I try not to make assumptions,” you mumble, fingers touching your lips.

“I’m, uh, sorry for not asking.”

“No, it’s- It was good. I’ve wanted you to do that for a while. It’s just that that was the first time somebody’s kissed me, since, uh…” Your eyes dart to Yukio, who’s ruffling Ned’s hair and laughing.

“Yukio?!” Orange flickers in Ellie’s eyes for a moment, but she keeps it under control.

“No, no, of course not, uh… The old singer, Lola. She and Yukio were dating, but apparently I was the one she really had her sights on, and… She was entitled. Thought that because she wanted me, I must want her. That wasn’t really the case, I was already pining over you. Didn’t stop her from forcing a few kisses on me and trying to go further. If Yukio hadn't shown up early with cupcakes, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“I am such an asshole,” Ellie says softly. “Can I kiss you again? The right way.”

“I’d say what you did before was pretty right, but sure,” you consent.

Her kiss before had been rough, needy, and impatient. Just the way you like it. This, though, this is gentle, soft, and exploratory. You tangle your hands in her hair and kiss her harder. She moans into the kiss before pulling away, bewildered.

“That was…” Ellie trails off, trying to find a positive adjective that won’t sound to frilly or lovesick.

“A mistake, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, fuck, no. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she corrects you. “Just- Didn’t really know how. Even when you were kinda flirting with me at first, I just thought you were messing with me, so I- I am so stupid.”

“So am I,” you scoff. “I thought you were dating Peter.”

“I was spending a lot of time with him, but… I was just using him as an excuse to avoid you so I wouldn’t embarrass myself anymore. And I was asking him for advice. I figured if he could land somebody as far out of his league as Liz, maybe I stood the slightest bit of a chance with you. But I kept fucking it up. I’d just get so nervous, all of my compliments would turn into insults, all of my teasing turned into straight-up cruelty. I don’t know how you actually like me.”

“I’m a little bit of a masochist, I’ll admit,” you tell her. “I’m really glad you don’t hate me.”

“I’m really glad you don’t hate me,” Ellie replies, but she can’t help but think that what she‘s really saying is ‘I love you, too.’

She takes your hand, and you two rejoin your friends, swept up in a group hug. They wanted this to happen almost as much as you two did.

#negasonic teenage warhead #ellie phimister #x-men #negasonic teenage warhead imagine #ellie phimister imagine #x-men imagine #negasonic teenage warhead x reader #ellie phimister x reader #x-men x reader #wlw x reader #sapphic x reader #wlw imagine #sapphic imagine #lesbian x reader #lesbian imagine #songfic

129 notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 3 years

Text

stuck with you | yoongi

title: stuck with you pairing: yoongi x reader, taehyung and jimin as side characters genre: fluff request: “Can you do a idol!Min Yoongi of BTS request of his crush being best friends with Jimin and Taehyung and him and his crush consistently fluster the other but they never realize until one day he does and finally make as move despite everyone telling them for weeks that they like each other?” word count: 3.3k warnings: some cursing, mentions of the pandemic a/n: i’ve been actively avoiding writing anything concerning the pandemic/lockdown cuz let’s be real, we’re all here to have fun, not think about real-life shit...but i decided to try it here

i wasn’t sure how to write their living arrangements tho since most of them seem to have their own places? so i just used the hannam the hill house for reference 🤪

“How have things been for you guys lately?”

Taehyung and Jimin exchange skeptical looks with each other, which you don’t catch because you’re too busy picking over your food.

“We’ve all been stuck in the same damn place for weeks now, so you tell me.” Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head.

You visiting their house right before the stay-at-home mandate was issued ended up with the three of you—plus Yoongi, to your luck—being cooped up in the same house for almost two weeks now. It wasn’t wholly a bad thing, since you got to be with your two best friends, but living with three men was pretty much as messy as you’d expected it to be. “Wow. Never thought we’d run out of things to talk about.”

Jimin tries to humor you. “Things have been fine, you know...same as always. Except for Yoongi-hyung acting like a lovesick weirdo. But you wouldn’t know about that, would you…?” Jimin feigns an innocent look.

You look up from your plate. “A lovesick weirdo for who?”

“We’ve been through this like 20 times already, Y/N,” Jimin sighs.

“Yes, and every time I tell you you must have the wrong person because that makes no sense whatsoever.”

“He’s lovesick over you,” Taehyung reiterates, like you didn’t catch the gist the first time around.

“I don’t think Yoongi likes me.” You shake your head and make a face at the notion of it, trying to disguise your irritation at them constantly trying to provoke your emotions.

“Why not? There’s a lot to like about you, don’t downgrade yourself.” Jimin insists.

“He doesn’t even act like he does. If anything, he gets all odd around me.”

“That’s just how he is,” Taehyung says, leaning back in his chair. “You’d think you’d start to catch onto this after being here for so long, but…”

“No, she’s too busy being too embarrassed and intimidated to even get within 4 meters of him.” Jimin and Taehyung both giggle at that, and you shake your head.

“You guys are like little schoolkids. How many more big tales are you going to think up before our quarantine lifts? You could probably write a book by the end.”

Taehyung shrugs, putting his arms behind his head. “I might do that, as long as you let me make you and hyung the star-crossed lovers who are too dumb to tell each other how they feel.” He stretches his leg under the table to nudge your shin with his toes, knowing how you hate when he puts his bare feet on you, and he cackles when you protest loudly.

“Will you stop trying to get my hopes up for nothing—?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Yoongi steps out onto the terrace with the three of you a few minutes later. He shields his eyes against the sun’s sudden brightness after he slides open the glass door, holding his other arm up.

“Look who’s appeared!” Jimin says excitedly, his eyes glittering with enthusiasm.

“You’re loud,” Yoongi grumbles, though he’s mostly speaking to Taehyung and Jimin. “I can hear you laughing from downstairs.” Your body tenses up and melts all at the same time, and suddenly you feel like you don’t know how to do anything right—like hold your chopsticks correctly. They shoot out of your hand when you try to use them again and hit the patio floor. You look at them forlornly.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, a smile fluttering across his lips at your clumsy actions.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine.” You can only glance back at him, embarrassed that you’ve made yourself look like a clown. Jimin laughs like he’s just witnessed the funniest thing on Earth. You shake your head and push away from the table, wanting—no, needing—a quick exit. “I’ll just find some more of those…”

Jimin shakes himself free of his sudden bout of laughter and jumps at the opportunity. “Wait, I’ll get them for you.” He bolts up from the chair before you can even think about it and goes back into the house, already planning to take his sweet time on his mission to get you new chopsticks. Taehyung picks up the hint almost instantly.

Yoongi turns back to the doorway after Jimin disappears through it, his movements a few beats too late—as if he’s just now realizing the other man left. “What was that about—”

“Oh shit!” Taehyung’s exclamation cuts into Yoongi’s question. In a sweeping motion, Taehyung “accidentally” elbows your water off the table, sending the bottle splashing out onto the patio in sad little streams. You jerk away from the splash, but the water droplets have already gotten you.

“What the hell?!”

Taehyung shrugs like it was inevitable and gives a sheepish smile. There’s an undeniable scheme lingering in his eyes, though. “Looks like I’ll have to get you another one.” He stands up to get your aforementioned water, though you begin to form the idea that you’re not getting any water at all.

You sigh and rub your fingers across your forehead. The heat of the sun has turned from pleasant to uncomfortable, and you don’t even have your water to take the edge off. Great.

Yoongi turns back to you, his eyebrows creased. “That was weird.”

“They’re just trying to…” Force us together? You’re too embarrassed to say anything like that, and your words trail off in a stammer. Why did they ever think this would be a good idea? Yoongi raises his eyebrows in curiosity at your bitten-off answer. “An-anyway, that doesn’t matter. So...what are you doing out here?”

Yoongi shrugs, smirking slightly. “Well, I do live here.”

You snort to cover the way your stomach cuts a flip at his smirk, and you reach for your food in a nervous gesture before you remember your chopsticks are still gone. “You sorta seem like a vampire, though. I’m surprised you came out to get some sun.”

Yoongi mulls over that thought. “Hmm…a vampire, huh?” He runs a hand through his pitch-black hair, and even though the gesture is just an afterthought, it makes your heart skip a beat. You almost want to roll your eyes at your reaction to that simple movement. “Don’t tell me you were one of those obsessive Twilight fans over a decade ago.”

“And if I was?”

“Would you enjoy being bitten by a vampire?” Yoongi regrets it as soon as he says it, and you ducking your head into your hands doesn’t help the flaming embarrassment. “Fuck, that was stupid—sorry.” Your shoulders are shaking with laughter, and even though it’d be cute in another context, he feels like he’s about to combust. So he decides to make a run for it. Maybe a cowardly move on his part, but it seems like the best one right now.

“Hyung, you can’t be serious—” Jimin calls out to Yoongi as the older man brushes past once he gets back indoors, but the other man tries his best to ignore Jimin as a blush crawls up his neck. “Go back and tell her. It was the perfect moment!”

“There’s gonna be a lot more of that mess until we can leave,” Taehyung says, peering through the glass at your now confused expression and shaking his head. “God, one of them needs to say something before I lose my mind.”

Like Taehyung predicted, there’s a lot more of “that mess” over the next week. You and Yoongi continue to tip-toe around each other, unsure of how to appropriately handle each other and never unable to shake the awkwardness that colors every interaction.

The most notable incident of all, however, occurs when Yoongi does his laundry one day and somehow finds a pair of your underwear mixed in with his clothes after taking them out of the dryer. How the hell did they even get there, and how did he not notice them before?

Bound to his usual fierce overthinking, he stands there for a few long moments, wondering what he should do. Obviously, the only answer would be to return them to you. But then what if you think that’s weird, him somehow having your underwear? Or what if you assume he’s some pervert who’d taken your panties on purpose?

And to his great luck, that’s precisely when you walk into the laundry room. You give him a timid smile and greeting, which melts away into pure embarrassment when you see him standing there as if he’d just been framed for murder—and your deep red panties sitting in his laundry pile.

Yoongi’s gaze darts between the laundry and your eyes, his jaw working aimlessly as he tries to come up with something that makes sense.

He decides on “I didn’t know they were there,” though this feels just as inadequate as it sounds.

“M-maybe I threw them in the wrong bin,” you rush out, and in the same breath you cross the room to practically snatch them out of the pile of his clothes. You know you couldn’t have done it, though, which leads your mind back to those two sneaky men who’ve been trying to exercise their terrible matchmaking skills as of late.

“A-ah, yeah—maybe,” Yoongi agrees half-heartedly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You both pause for what feels like an eternity, for a reason you can’t decipher, and you think you might burst from the sheer discomfort of it all. “Well—th-thanks. One less thing to wash, I guess.” You try to laugh, but the sound comes out high and forced. Similarly, Yoongi’s answering smile is tight around the corners.

The next few days after that, you are both unable to maintain any kind of eye contact. Taehyung and Jimin are endlessly amused by the way you and the older man dance around each other like two ghosts struggling to inhabit the same space.

You make up for it slightly by turning all of Jimin’s white shirts into a splotchy pink once you find out that this was indeed his terrible and silly idea.

You’ve been sleeping in Jimin’s and Taehyung’s beds since you’ve been barricaded in their home with them, which none of you really think twice about. You’ve been friends with them for years and don’t see either of them other than platonically, so it’s not awkward for you or them. Although it was originally intended for you to mostly stay in Jimin’s bed, you end up alternating between the two, climbing into whoever’s bed you feel like that particular night. Neither of them mind the switch-up, and Taehyung likes using you as his personal pillow, so it all works out.

If there was anyone who minded at all, it was Yoongi. It wasn’t a burning jealousy, because he knew he had no right to feel like that about you—not when he couldn’t even admit to you that he liked you. But it didn’t make him want to jump for joy to know you were in either of the younger men’s beds, even just as friends.

He spent many nights imagining you were beside him instead, warming the empty spaces of his bed, whispering to him and telling him about your day. It didn’t matter if he already knew everything you did that day because you’d all been living in the same space for weeks. He still wanted to know.

But until either of you made a move, he didn’t know when that would happen. If ever.

He didn’t even know if you’d be interested, or if you saw him the way he saw you. You were never as close to him as you’d been with the other two men, and although that could be explained by you being best friends with them for years, he honestly chalked it up to you not liking him as much. Taehyung and Jimin had tried to tell him the exact opposite several times before, but he wasn’t really convinced. Not with the way you seemed to lock up around him—like if you said or did the wrong thing, he’d hate you forever.

If only you knew he could never feel that way about you.

You decide to sneak your way to the kitchen for a late-night snack one night, your socked feet scuffing quietly on the floor as you make your way to the kitchen. However, your plan is derailed when you run into Yoongi in the hallway, who has apparently just taken a shower. He’s fully clothed—thank God, because you’re not sure how you would’ve survived it otherwise—but the towel on his wet hair speaks to his recent shower. Your immediate response is to jump in surprise, feeling like you’ve been caught red-handed; although there’s no law stopping you from getting something to eat in the middle of the night.

“Oh—Yoongi.”

“You’re still up?” he asks, pulling the towel away from his face so he can see you better.

“Uh, yeah...I was just getting something to eat, I guess.”

“No crime in that. You’re tip-toeing around like you’re nervous about it, though.”

“I didn’t want to wake anyone up.” You shrug your shoulders, trying to appear more nonchalant than you really feel. “But I see you’re already up…” Your words trail off behind you as you walk into the kitchen. Yoongi watches your retreating back before making the split-second decision to follow you. He’s not really sure why, previously intending to go back to his own room.

“Were you getting something to eat too?” you ask, turning back to glance at him when you hear his footsteps behind you. You’re admittedly happy at the idea of spending a little more time alone with Yoongi, though you’re still nervous as hell.

It’s probably not the best idea to say I just came because I wanted to be next to you, so he nods to your question. "Uh, sure, I guess. What were you gonna get?”

“I don’t really know, just whatever’s in here…” You open the fridge and stare into it absentmindedly, your eyes raking over the food but not really seeing it—not with Yoongi’s presence hovering behind you.

Eventually you settle on some leftover rice and kimchi—which there’s always plenty of—not wanting to expend too much energy on cooking anything new.

You and Yoongi sit at the table together, using the light of your phone’s flashlight and the under-cabinet lights to illuminate the room instead of the overhead. Maybe it’s a little strange, but you like the ambiance of it more than having the harsh overhead light on.

The room is quiet for a while as you both eat, which you don’t initially mind. But you can’t ignore how Yoongi keeps stealing glances at you, like you aren’t going to notice, like he isn’t sitting right in front of you where you can see. It makes you antsy, but not necessarily in a bad way.

“Is something up?” you finally ask, keeping your eyes on your half-empty bowls, too nervous to look straight at him.

He hums like he’s thinking intently about it. Then he decides to rip the band-aid off and says, “You’re always tense around me.”

“Oh.”

He chuckles at your short response. “Why?”

You feel like you’ve been backed into a corner, and you hesitate. “Well, you’re always weird around me. Why is that?”

“Touché.” Another tense pause where he thinks of what to say, and then, “Jimin and Taehyung swear you like me.”

You try not to react so obviously, but your spoon clatters against the side of the bowl. If he’s acting weird because of the idea of you liking him, how can it be possible that he returns the feelings? Maybe he doesn’t know how to let you down easily. You suddenly feel ridiculous, like you’ve been wasting your emotions on nothing. “...I see.”

“I thought they were...trying to play some game. But, since you’re here now...is it true?”

Maybe if you close your eyes hard enough, you can poof yourself out of existence. If you felt trapped before, you really are now. You blurt out the first thing you can think of, trying to save yourself.

“Before you think I’m stupid for liking you, you should know they’ve been saying the same thing to me about you. So. Yeah.”

Yoongi looks at you full-on. “They told you I like you?” A nervous grin fixes itself on his lips, which makes you second-guess yourself. At this point, your head and heart are tangled in a knot. Why does your love life have to be this difficult? “So that’s it, then.”

“What is?”

“We like each other.” That makes your heart rate pick up. “...and didn’t even figure it out until just now, despite everyone else’s ‘help’.”

You take a shaky breath. “You like me.”

Yoongi nods, glancing between his hands on the table and your face. “I should’ve said it sooner.”

Despite yourself, you feel the corners of your mouth twitch into a slight smile—one that’s colored with relief and a tinge of lingering nervousness. “Later is better than never, I guess.” You find yourself laughing from the way all your stress slowly unwinds itself from your body, and Yoongi joins you, his eyes sparkling in the dark.

“So. This means we’re dating now, right?”

“I hope this isn’t considered our first date.” You snort, looking around the kitchen.

Yoongi shakes his head, placing his cheek in his hand with a sleepy smile. “I promise I’ll take you somewhere nice...after the pandemic is over.”

“We might be waiting a while, then.” Finished with your food, you go to quickly wash the dishes in the sink, and Yoongi slides in next to you to do the same. Another silence falls over the two of you, but for the first time, it’s not uncomfortable or pulled taut with words unsaid.

When you finish, Yoongi leans against the counter, his eyes openly tracing over you, wearing just a big T-shirt and shorts. It’s a simple outfit, but it warms his heart.

“Come sleep with me,” he says suddenly. You crack an awkward smile at that, and he’s blushing before the last syllable even leaves his lips, because he understands how that sounds. “I mean, actually sleep. It’s late.”

You pretend to hesitate on it. “I don’t know, Taehyung might miss me…”

“Taehyung and Jimin have had you all to themselves the past few weeks. It’s my turn now.”

And with that, you let him take your hand and guide you back to his room, maneuvering carefully through the dark house. His bed is new to you, but it’s instantly comfortable—like home. The smell of him surrounds you, as does his arms when he pulls you closer. You smile against the fabric of his shirt as you tuck your face into his chest, his chin on top of your head.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, his fingers curling around your shoulder. His voice is soft and low, already halfway to sleep.

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

#yoongi fluff #yoongi fic #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines #bts fic #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts imagines #suga imagines #suga fic #suga scenarios #suga fluff #ambw kpop #ambw #ambw fic #ambw fluff #ambw scenarios #ambw imagines

212 notes · View notes

the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

Wallflower

18+ ONLY

Ezra (Prospect) x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, cursing, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), masturbation, dirty dreams, implies age gap (reader is in 20s+/of age, just younger than Ezra)

No use of (y/n) in this one!

A/N: I know this was not one of the things I should be working on, and I procrastinated on my coursework yet again to write fan fic. I’m so in love with Ezra and I have wanted to write something for this character for a while. It’s my first time writing for him and I was so intimidated to write something about him because his manner of speaking is so unique that I’m worried I won’t do him justice! Hopefully you all enjoy!

Next thing I post will be the final part of Rest! It is currently in progress!

I will be updating my taglist form soon to include Ezra and other Pedro characters I write for so check out for that if you want to be tagged in future fics!

This is unedited and if I miss something to tag as a warning please let me know!

Tags and Requests and OPEN

“Ezra, for once can you please shut the fuck up. You’re driving me crazy,” you sigh, pulling off your helmet as you both return to your shared pod. It was a fairly long trek from the mining site back to your makeshift home and Ezra, being himself, talked the whole time- not once missing a beat.

“Not once have I ever had the pleasure of conversing with one as eloquently a sweet talker as yourself,” Ezra winks, making you roll your eyes. You weren’t actually mad at him, you could never, but one of the side effects of Ezra was limited moments of peace and quiet. In many ways, you and Ezra were very similar, and it made you really compatible partners.

But unlike Ezra, you really enjoyed quiet. Ezra, on the other hand, has had more than his fill of quiet for his lifetime and he basked in the ability to vocalize his every passing thought to you. It wasn’t often you felt the need to tell him to stop, but today had been particularly challenging and you couldn’t think of anything else besides the quiet of night and a good rest.

Ezra and you worked well because you were so much alike, but your differences also paired you two nicely. Ezra was without a doubt the biggest and most long-winded talker you had ever met and you were the best listener, opting to be the silent one in the conversation more times than not. You weren’t necessarily shy, just someone of a quieter nature. You mostly kept to yourself, by choice really, while Ezra struggled with solitude, it was one of the strengths of yours that you were able to endure it better than he could.

When you first met Ezra, he had called you wallflower, cause frankly you were one. Settled in the far corner of the pod with your notebook in hand, sketching instead of talking with the rest of the crew, Ezra made the effort to saunter over to you and made it his personal mission since day one to break you out of your shell. Made sure during mealtimes, he sat next to you, talked to you, asked you questions. Frankly, you owe the friendship you have with him now to his openness and talkative nature.

“Flower, I hope my parley on the trek back didn’t offend,” he says as he sheds off his suit.

“Not at all,” you say with a small smile, “Sometimes my meter runs out on my ability to listen. Tires me out.”

“I suppose I can understand,” Ezra replies, “I honestly seem to have the opposite problem, all my years in the Green, I never had the pleasure of someone to listen to besides my lonesome. Now that I have you, I find myself utterly unable to suppress my desire of spoken prose and I’m afraid I do tend to take advantage of your gentle nature.”

You nod, understanding him very well. It was coming up on seven months since you and Ezra had been on your own. The other three members of your crew had parted ways with you both, seeking out a better treasure.

Ezra, knowing what this planet and greed does, insisted on just doing his job and leaving, and you strongly agreed. It had been so long since the three of them went off for the buried riches, and you don’t even know if they will be returning to your pod at your scheduled time of departure in a few months’ time. Ezra told you stories about how he’s witnessed this job change people, and how he’s seen planets swallow up one’s humanity with no forgiveness. He was doubtful that any of them would return, and you were now starting to realize that his prediction since the beginning was correct.

Once your suit was off and put away, you smoothed out your hair as best you could by touch without a mirror, and headed over to the storage cubby where you both had your rations and grabbed you both a bar. You tossed one over to Ezra and he caught it effortlessly. Peeling back the wrapper of yours, you took a bite and collapsed on your cot.

“I never thought I’d miss those meals they served in the mess hall up in the station,” you comment, “I’d take a portion of those watery mashed potatoes and mystery meatloaf in a heartbeat if it meant I never had to touch one of these bars again.”

Your words made Ezra chuckle, his laugh deep and husky. You loved it. Your chest always swelled with pride just a tad when you had the ability to make him laugh or smile. More often, it was always him getting those reactions from you with his words and you liked the feeling when you were able to return the favor.

You closed your eyes, not falling asleep, just letting them rest while you chewed the rubbery ration. Ezra, tore through his always rather quickly, and he noticed that you still tried to savor yours despite your complaints. Like the taste, even though lacking and the texture terrible, was still like a reward for completing another hard day’s work. He admired that about you. You hadn’t been working this job as many years as him, as he was a few (plus a few more) years your senior. The things about this job he’s long since ignored or has gotten used to, still affected you. You still tried to taste your food, instead of scoffing it down like him and other seasoned prospectors.

“I can feel you staring, Ezra,” you say, breaking him out of his thoughts. He felt flushed knowing that he had been caught. It wasn’t intentional, more and more it was hard to keep his mind clear of thoughts of you.

“Sorry, flower,” he mutters, and you smirk, rendering him speechless for the first time all day.

It was undeniable that Ezra’s feelings for you were bubbling up closer and closer to the surface each passing day he spent in your company. You grounded him in ways he hadn’t realized he had needed. He needed someone to reign in his ramblings and tether him back when he lets his mind wander too deep. He needed you. There was this dependency that tied him to you now more than he ever experienced with another partner. It was friendship, sure. But he’s been friendly with partners past, and not once has he felt about them what he feels towards you.

He was a hopeless romantic, his thoughts of love and relationships were as poetic as the words he spoke. Yearning, completely head over heels, his mind constantly cluttered with scenarios of the ways he would court and win your affection if there was no inkling that lingered in his mind that was there to remind him it was a bad idea. You were much more practical than he ever hoped to be, much more wired for logic than he was. However, Ezra was blissfully unaware of how he had begun to rub off on you.

You found yourself daydreaming, caught up in your own little fantasies and escapes from reality, far more often than you had ever in your lifetime. Ezra, always the star at the center of it all. Living a life where you could stay with him somewhere more permanent, different career that didn’t require you both to float from planet to planet, chasing after prizes that weren’t actually yours- you just acted as a vessel, a taxi service for someone else’s riches.

You imagine scenarios where you would have met Ezra at a different time, or a different place. However, you often scolded yourself for allowing your stupid crush to occupy so much of your time. You were here for a job. And then you will leave and move on to your next one like always. It would be too painful to face rejection anyways, you reason. You can imagine the look on his face, thinking about the nicest way possible to reject you. That’s what you want to avoid, the pity. The niceties that will be forced after his inevitable rejection. The first friendship you’ve had the pleasure of having in years are gone just like that.

The pod was more spacious than the pod you would’ve been issued had it just been you and Ezra since the beginning. Two people sharing a pod designed for six felt much more like a livable space. More leg room, more spaces for privacy, it felt a little more like a studio apartment special wise than a glorified tent. You had even pushed a couple of the standard issue cots together and secured them tightly. You had the luxury of an extra pillow, and two of the thin mattress pads- it was like you had a full-size bed, with a beam running down the middle you did your best to cover by overlapping the mattress pads in the center. It was the most comfortable sleeping arrangement you’ve ever had on these expeditions.

Ezra and you strung a line across where both of your makeshift beds were positioned in the pod, and you hung a tarp across the line to make yourselves a privacy curtain. It was like you had your own room and he had his own as well. Ezra’s side was a little cleaner than yours, yours was a little cluttered with little mementos you find and want to bring back with you. Rocks, or small geodes… occasionally you’d bring back small plants that you double checked were nontoxic and you had them set up in makeshift planters- one of the crewmates that left abandoned an extra helmet that was damaged, and now you have an obscure green and purple plant sprouting up proudly from it.

Ezra’s side was much more standard. He had a pile of his old books, all of them weathered, looking like they’d been through hell and back. He had field books, and notebooks that held his years of accumulated knowledge of how he’s survived the Green. He ended up copying your bedding arrangement, and he agreed it was the most comfortable bed he’s had in years. He said it felt like a luxury a prospector like himself didn’t deserve. He also had a small collection of rocks that lined the ledge behind his bed. Little gifts from you, all of them.

“This one reminded me of you,” you’d say, passing him a unique rock while you struggled to keep the handful of the others you collected balanced in your hands. The grin on your face when you’d collect the little things was one of his favorite sights. When the partition that separated the beds was opened, it was a comical sight. Like a bedroom of a married couple on old television shows, where they had different beds and each side was decorated to that person’s tastes. Most of the time though, the partition was closed.

It made changing easier, the bathrooms and showers in pods no matter the occupancy size always had small, cramped bathrooms. However, it created a false sense of privacy because it did absolutely nothing in terms of suppressing noises. Ezra sometimes babbled nonsense in his sleep. The man literally unable to stop talking even when he was rendered unconscious. Most of the times it was completely incomprehensible, not even sounding like real words. Sometimes you’d hear a sentence maybe, but without knowing his dreams it was still alien to you. It was comforting to you hearing him on the other side of the partition, and knowing he was right on the other side made it easier for you to sleep.

Tonight, was no different, curled up in your bed, you were drifting off to sleep while Ezra had long fallen asleep before you. The weight of today’s expedition felt like it melted right off of your body as soon as your head hit the pillow. You were close to falling asleep, just savoring the moments of comfort before letting your mind drift when you heard Ezra say your name on the other side of the makeshift wall.

“What is it, Ezra?” you whisper, grumbling that he interrupted you right before falling asleep. He doesn’t respond, and instead you hear a low snore on the other side. He must’ve fallen back asleep, you figure, closing your eyes. They shoot open a few minutes later when he repeats your name again, but this time it’s a deep moan. His voice was husky and it sent a vibration right up the back of your spine. Your eyes widened at the realization that on the other side of the curtain, Ezra was dreaming about you. You shivered when he let out another involuntary, low groan. If you hadn’t been listening you probably wouldn’t have even heard it.

What do you do? You mind is racing with trying to figure out how to handle this situation. Do you wake him up? You also try your hardest to ignore how every small noise on the other side of the curtain is just going right to your core, making your thighs squeeze together while you keep your own arousal at bay. It was wrong of you to listen in, but you really don’t have much of a choice. You force yourself to take a few unsteady breaths to calm yourself, but it does nothing to ease you in your shocked state. Kevva, the noises he was making were like music. You often wondered what he would sound like. His voice on its own is already so perfect. But in this context? You wanted to hear nothing else.

You don’t even know how long you lay on your bed paralyzed before the temptation becomes too much and you are sliding one hand down the length of your torso and into your sleep shorts. You delicately slide your hand under your dampened underwear and your fingers instinctively find your clit. You bite your lip, trying your best to suppress the whimpers that escape your lips as you think about the man behind the partition. Your months of pining for him you finally let yourself submit to.

It had been a while. There was no privacy on the pod at any moment. When someone was using the shower, from the other room everyone could always hear the rustling around, if they were humming. It was better to just not try at all. The risk of getting caught was always too high. This was the first time you acknowledged and succumbed to your desires this entire mission. It had been so difficult to avoid, but now, you are taking advantage of the opportunity presenting itself to you. You weren’t even thinking twice, just closing your eyes and imaging the fingers inside you belonged to Ezra. You were so caught up in your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that Ezra’s side of the room had fallen silent.

Ezra sat up on his bed, His eyes fixated completely on the tarp that was the only thing separating him from you. He felt shameful, waking up from another dream about you. He woke up hard, and he felt immensely guilty. Then he heard your soft moans you were trying so hard to hold back. Now he sat on his bed, completely captivated by the noises on the other side, while he pleaded with himself to either make a move or just try to ignore it and get a few more hours of sleep. He snapped when he heard his name fall off your lips in a small whisper.

“I can feel you staring, Ezra,” he hears you say on the other side of the curtain. He smiles, probably ear to ear like a goddamn dopey teenager. He stands up and pulls the curtain back, and his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you laid out. You had stopped, knowing your statement would cause him to pull the curtain back, but the evidence of what you were doing still lingered- your hair sprawled out messy on the pillow, your sleepshirt haphazardly pushed up exposing the smooth skin and curves to him, the slick on your fingertips and the small wet spot on the front of your shorts. You looked up at him with doe eyes and he thought he might collapse on the floor at the sight of you.

“Flower,” he whispers breathlessly in the dark. The only light coming in was from the moonlight outside from the small window on your side you had opened. He thought you looked ethereal, a sight to behold that he was not worthy of gazing upon. He’s speechless. You can’t quite make out his facial expression in the dark and you mistake his breathless tone for discomfort.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, sitting up slightly. “I just... I heard you dreaming about me; we don’t have to bring this up again. Its just loneliness getting to me…”

He tentatively kneels down in front of your bed and you move to hide your face in the pillow so you don’t have to face him. He gently cups your face in his hand, and guides you back to face him. He actually says your name, and you might die hearing it on his lips.

“If what you say is true, and this is nothing more than a lapse in judgement, fueled by the loneliness of the Green, I swear to you I shall never as I live hold this moment against you, and you and I shall commence in the morning living like it never happened. But, if there is any chance these feelings that I have harbored for you are reciprocated, please grant me this opportunity to show you how much I am completely transfixed by you.”

You are now the one rendered speechless as you try to process the new information and the proposal Ezra has offered you. You are having difficultly allowing yourself to believe any of this or anything he says is true. Part of you was wondering if this was part of a dream and you hadn’t yet realized you were asleep. You had to reach out and touch his face, feeling his stubble under your touch, any sort of evidence to know he was physically right there.

“You’re real,” you mumble to yourself, and he chuckles. He takes the hand which you had rested on his face and he presses a kiss to your wrist.

“The number of times I have thought the same thing about you,” he mutters, moving your hand to press a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Flower, please…”

“This is more than a just a whim,” you admit, exhaling shakily, “Ezra… I love you.”

“Oh, how I’ve longed to hear those gracious words on your lips, flower,” he smiles, his gaze not breaking from your face.

You lean forward, capturing his lips in a kiss, unable to take being separated from him anymore. You move your lips against his and you can feel his smile as he moves to position himself on top of you, not even needing to break the kiss. Your limbs tangle with his, and you run your hands through his tousled curls, wanting to just let your hands touch every part of him that he would let you. He rests on hand on the back of your neck, while he uses the other to keep himself from putting all of his weight on you.

“You’re bewitching,” he says softly, as he pulls away from your lips to leave a trail of kisses and bites down your neck and collar bone. “Your beauty is unmatched by anything these tired eyes have ever witnessed,” he praises, as his hands move to slide nimbly under the fabric of your shirt.

He plans to take his time, to completely worship every part of your body and vocalize in every way how beautiful you are and how much he cares for you. His moments are slow, and sensual, making you feel like complete putty in his hands. He wants to savor absolutely every part of this shared moment. For so long has he dreamed about this, and so far, everything about you- your noises, your soft skin, all so much better than he ever envisioned. His calloused hands savor every inch of you they graze, committing how every part of you feels to his memory.

His moustache and stubble leave goosebumps behind on every part of your skin he kisses. He leaves a trail of marks behind that with time will definitely darken into small bruises, evidence he can gaze upon tomorrow to remind him this all was not just a dream. In his head, he pleads with his maker that if this is a dream may he please never wake up and suspend him in this sleep state forever. A small price to pay to have you entangled in his arms.

“I love you,” he repeats over and over as he kisses down your body, pressing kisses to every inch he can see and touch, just like he’s wanted to for so long in these strenuous months. His movements are gently, and you moan softly at the sensation of his knuckles grazing your skin as he pulls your shorts and underwear down your legs, leaving you know completely bare in front of him.

“I want to spend the rest of my days between these thighs,” he mumbles, pressing kisses to your inner thighs and his hands grab them and pull them apart gently. Like a man starved, his tongue works skillfully, giving you so much attention. Your hands tangle in his hair, and he sucks on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. He loves the reactions he can elicit from you and he loves the taste of you. You’re as touched starved as he is and he wants nothing more than to stay between your legs for hours as you moan praises, and shudder under his touch. You back arches and you can’t help but squirm at the sensations, but he holds your legs gently, keeping you in place. The first time he brings you to orgasm is by his tongue, and you can taste yourself on his lips when he finally comes up for air.

You can’t even think of anything to say to reciprocate his words, your mind is hazy and you’re overcome with the feeling. He doesn’t seem to mind, and the look on his face almost proves how proud he is to be the one who’s the cause of your current state. He’s just so wrapped up in how your body is responding to his every move, he doesn’t care you’re completely speechless. The feeling of it all was just too much to try to attempt vocalizing coherent thoughts.

When he finally pushes himself inside you, it completely takes your breath away. He makes sure to go slow, taking his time and letting you adjust. He also needs to steady himself, because the feeling of you wrapped around him is incredible. It’s perfect, and he wants to take his time, but your so tight and feel so good, and it’s been so long since he’s experienced such an intimacy.

“You’re perfect,” you moan softly at the feeling of how he stretches you.

The compliments that fall from your lips, go right to his head, inflating his ego. His kisses become more frantic, and passionate. His hands shamelessly wander the length of your body, groping at the flesh, wanting to just worship every part of you, to just touch every part of you. His rhythm is slow at first, not wanting to cause you any discomfort, but you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in closer and his mind is frenzied at the sensation. His movements become much more sporadic, chasing his relief as you cry out how close you are as your face rests in the crook of his neck, leaving kisses and bites on his neck, leaving your own marks on him like you were returning the favor.

“Cum inside me, Ezra,” you whisper, nibbling his ear and he groans hearing something only in his dreams manifest in the flesh. “It’s safe.”

He bites his lip and you tug gently on the ends of his hair, a moaning mess under him. The way your face contorts when you orgasm for the second time and the sensation of your release is the final sensation that triggers his own. He collapses on top of you, resting his face in the crook of your neck, whispering again how perfect you are before pulling out and rolling over to lay beside you.

You both are breathing heavily, glistening with sweat and feeling euphoric after coming down from the high. Your chests rise and fall as you both work to catch your breath before either of you speak. It’s a comfortable silence, both of you trying to recover. He looks over to you, and you match his gaze. You roll over onto your stomach and rest your head on his chest, taking a few moments before cleaning up. You rest your arm across his torso and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

Here, in the depths of this dangerous planet, you felt safe in his arms. The excruciatingly long days of physical labor, chasing after promises of riches feel fruitless now more than ever, because the best thing you ever found in the Green had been right next to you the entire time.

General Taglist:

@sassy-kassaay

@letsfly-andbe-free

212 notes · View notes