#my face is peeling because the weather has been so dry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sun-snatcher · 2 months

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No no because I love your depiction of Jet??? Oh my god?? Like hell yeah hes a fearless leader of a freedom fighting rebellion group he built from the ground up but he’s also?? JUST A TEEN!! JUST A BOY!! Teenage boys get butterflies too!!??

🌾 ・ POCKETFUL OF BUTTERFLIES

summ. Operation: Creeping Cricket was a botch. It looks like you and Jet aren’t gonna be headed home anytime soon. pairing. Jet x f!medic!reader w.count. 1.1k a/n. ANON YOURE SO RIGHT. Sometimes we forget Jet is really just a teenage boy grappling with hormones and feelings and everything inbetween! Enjoy this short continuation to Hand in Loving Hand!

You take a mental note to thank Longshot and his squirrel-like tendencies to hide emergency stashes up in trees for times like these.

“Here,” Jet says softly, “Y’might catch a cold soon.”

The change of clothes he offers you is weathered, but a warm welcome respite from the frigid chill that’s settled into your bones.

Operation Creeping Cricket had been a complete bust. Your narrow escape is a stroke of luck with all things considered, and at least the rain has finally stopped. It doesn’t help that both you and Jet are soaked head to toe, however, and the fact that the temperatures in the forests by Omashu can drop critically.

Your cheeks are raw; your fingers ache— but you manage to begin peeling off the layers of your clothes one by one to dry by the campfire. From across, Jet’s already managed to change out. He frowns in concern from where he’s sitting by the fire, watching you tip over a boot of water.

“You’re shaking.”

“Shivering,” you correct, trying to stop the chatter of your teeth. You wonder if biting on a wheat straw like how Jet is doing right now would help. “But, yes. Same thing I suppose.”

Then you’re untying the strings of your tunic, and pulling it swiftly over your head.

Jet barely has time to react.

He practically snaps his neck turning away, eyes wide.

The whiplash, the innocent attempt at privacy, has you biting back a laugh.

Ever the gentleman.

“You can look now,” you finally say, after a quick minute, and Jet is careful to turn.

The garments that Longshot had stashed practically drowns your figure, sleeves bundling at the wrists; collar wide and dipping low enough to reveal the corded necklace you never remove. And then there’s the glow of the fire, honeying you in amber light as you run your fingers through your damp hair.

You’re… effortlessly beautiful. He’s not quite sure there’s any other way to describe you.

“That bad, huh?” you ask, pinned under his gaze.

Jet startles. “Sorry, I— No, you just, look cold, still.”

He clears his throat as the tips of his ears burn. He hopes to the Spirits beyond you hadn’t noticed them go red. (You did.)

“Well, so do you.” You reach back into Longshot’s knapsack and tug out a blanket from inside, before making your way across to the log Jet’s settled on. The material is tanned and threadbare, but it would do for the night.

Your hands brush as you wrap the cloth around the both of you.

It’s difficult not to focus on just how warm Jet is. Even more difficult not to lean against him.

It hadn’t mattered much in the end, though; Jet shifts closer, and presses his shoulder against yours.

“Y’okay?” You ask, gentle.

Under the dim firelight, his hard edges seem to soften. The fearless leader of the Freedom Fighters can be surprisingly endearing. Suddenly, Jet is simply another survivor; another casualty of war.

He shrugs lightly, careful not to jostle you, and makes a face. “Eh. We’ve faced worse, haven’t we?”

You laugh, ducking into his shoulder. Jet wonders if you can physically feel the butterflies taking flight in his chest.

There’s a spill of flowers behind you— budding Moonflowers, he recognises; native to Earth Kingdom wildlife— and has half the mind to pluck one and hand it to you.

He chews harder on the straw in his mouth instead.

( He knows you don’t see him that way, anyway. You’d made that clear before. ‘We’re family,’ is what you’d told him; Him and the rest of the Freedom Fighters. ‘Found family.’ And while he isn’t complaining, he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t imagine atleast once what it’d be like to be something more with you.

Even if you did, he’s not quite sure he’d act on it. He’s not quite sure he can allow himself to be that vulnerable to someone. Not when he's a wanted man; not when subjecting someone into his dangerous lifestyle is the last thing he wants— even if said someone had signed up for it. )

“I’ll take first watch.” he says, after a moment.

“Y’sure? I don’t mind doing it. I promise I’ll wake you up this time.”

He laughs at the old memory. The smile, however, doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll be fine. You need rest.”

Quietly, you read him. Measure the micro-expressions that pass his face. Having fought alongside Jet throughout the years of survival made it easier. Whenever night falls, and the weight of his duties could settle if only for a little while, you could finally see all of him. Just a teenager who’s fighting for what he believed in; a kid who had to take on the world too early.

That illusion of 24/7 confidence falls around you often, though never around the younger rebels. You’ve kept the privilege close to your heart.

“You’re worried.”

He picks on the hearth for a moment, listens to the crackle of the fire.

Jet doesn’t doubt the Freedom Fighters’ capabilities. Longshot’s probably camping out somewhere in the trees with Smellerbee and The Duke, and Pipsqueak and Sneers can navigate these forests even better than him. They’ve all probably made it home already, knowing them.

And yet. And yet—

“Yeah,” he says. He didn’t like admitting it, because it implied they couldn’t protect themselves. It’d have meant he isn’t confident in them; that he, to some degree, didn’t trust them. It’s a twisted mindset, he recognises, but he can’t quite help his way of thinking these days. He didn’t like admitting he cared more than he really should— it’d be a concession. An admission.

An admission that he might truly snap if he lost any of the Freedom Fighters; that he might truly break if, Spirits forbid, he’d lose you.

The thought sends a frisson up his spine.

That shouldn’t scare him. It shouldn’t.

He blinks, shakes his head. “That obvious?”

“No. But I’ve known you for years now,” you nudge. “It’s okay to worry, y’know? You can care. You do care. There’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to act like you don’t for the sake of appearing calm and collected and… cool.”

He cocks his head at that, musters a playful smile. “Ah. So you think I’m cool?”

It’s meant to derail the conversation. Fortunately for him, it’s successful. Jet watches you bow your head and laugh; the bright one, the kind that makes his heart sing.

Camaraderie, he reminds himself, swallowing thickly as he reluctantly turns away from you. Nothing more, nothing less.

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luveline · 2 years

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jade roan being jealous of eddie cause reader is taking care of eddie on a sick day, i know youre working on halloween reqs but i just cant get this off my mind 😭😭 hope you do this after the celebration 💗

thank you for your request! roan being jealous / sad because you're being really sweet on her dad and leaving her out :( ♡ dad!eddie x fem!reader | 1.8k words

"Hello, Mr. Munson," you say quietly, unsurprised to find Eddie exactly where you'd left him.

"Roan?" he asks hoarsely.

You want to ask something sarcastic, like No, why? Have I shrunk? But he's really pitifully ill, so you answer his implied question without any wit. "She had to pee. I thought she was gonna wet herself in the car, she couldn't stop wiggling."

"Told her she has to stop holding it, she'll," — Eddie coughs, a crunchy, awful sound — "hurt herself."

"I know," you murmur, raking a limp curl away from his weathered face. You know pretty much everything there is to know about Roan at this point, and near enough the same about him.

You kiss his cheek and linger there. You love taking care of him because he's yours, but you miss your healthy, present Eddie too. Poor guy's been sick for almost a week now, and while Roan has helped out endlessly by being on her best behaviour, you need him to keep the ship afloat. Thankfully, he seems to be in the recovery process, and his fever's been gone for days.

"You feeling any better?"

"I feel awesome," he says, dropping a heavy arm around your back.

You take his face into both hands. You'd worried he'd make you sick too at first but whatever it is he has he's yet to pass on. You figure if it was catching you would've felt it by now, and you can't say you care too much when you steal a kiss. He tries his very best to reciprocate, his exhale hot as it fans over your top lip.

He peels his dry eyes open as you pull away, and you remind yourself to get him a hot towel or a tea tincture, something to ease the soreness.

"You're on the up and up, handsome," you say.

Eddie's never been sick like this while you've been together. Colds and the flu when you have a kid as young as Roan are a given; you've both fallen victim to her runny noses and sore throats a thousand times. They're easy enough to work through, especially when Eddie makes his lemon and honey tea. But this sickness, a virus, has had Eddie up against the wall. He's really worried you.

He can see it on your face.

"I'm actually feeling way better," he says, sounding extremely like himself despite the undertone of scratchiness to his voice. "Got a damn good nurse looking after me."

Roan's footsteps echo up the stairs. You don't turn to look at her as she enters the bedroom, hand stroking sweet, shaky lines down his stubbly cheeks.

"Hey, Roanie," he says, shifting so he can see her from behind you. "D'you have a good day at school? Come and tell us."

"Daddy!" she cheers, climbing up onto the bed and walking across it. Eddie pulls her skirt out of her tights where she's accidentally tucked it in, almost losing an arm as she collapses into his side.

"Roan," you chide gently, "be nice, baby, your dad's still fragile."

Eddie wraps his arm around, sending you a very grateful look as he says, "It's okay, I didn't like that arm very much anyway. Now c'mon, I wanna hear all about it. Did Stacy K remember her show and tell?"

Roan starts to recount the day's events, little legs tucked under her knees and the top of her body draped over Eddie's chest. You keep a selfish hand on the very edge of his face, thumb petting his cheek. After a short few minutes his eyes start to droop. He tightens his arm around Roan and rubs her back, her soft cardigan bunching up under his hand.

"Baby, I'm still feeling icky, okay? Maybe you can tell me the rest later?" he mumbles, hand slowing.

"You can tell me double," you offer distractedly, frowning at Eddie's unhappy face. He doesn't look peaceful anymore, he looks tired. Ragged.

"Okay," Roan says, kissing Eddie's cheek three times in a row. You can't tell if she's upset by his lack of attention. She doesn't look upset, but she can be surprisingly deceptive.

She slides off of the bed. Her steps stop at the door. "Mom?" she asks.

You beam at Eddie's dozing face and give his slack cheek another quick kiss.

"What?" you ask Roan, turning away from her dad with a smile. Everytime she calls you 'mom' it makes your day, and today is no exception.

"Can we have spaghetti shapes?"

You squeeze Eddie's arm before you stand and meet her in the doorway, looking down at her mini features with a fond smile. "Yeah, we can have spaghetti shapes. They had princess one's in Bradley's," you say, suddenly excited as you remember.

"Really?"

"Mm. But there's spongebob if you want those ones instead."

Roan takes your hand and starts to pull you toward the steps. "Princess ones, duh! Please."

You watch Eddie's face until you can't, following Roan down the stairs and into the kitchen.

You love how it's started to look as much like her and Eddie's kitchen than just your own. Her drawings and certificates litter the fridge, a family portrait pride of place and secured with upwards of five magnets so it doesn't fall off. There's sugary cereal across the top of the bread cabinet and a safety catch on the drawer with all the batteries. Cartoon characters are everywhere — on plates, spoons, Roan's placemat, and the spaghetti shapes themselves. You crack open a can and place a pan over the burner.

"What do you want with them, princess? A dinner roll?"

She wraps herself around your legs. "Two dinner rolls."

"Yeah? You must be hungry from all the running around this morning."

When you'd dropped her off, her and her friend Jordan had decided they needed to run a race around the playground. You'd cheered from the sidelines.

"Can you pick me up?" she whines.

You drop the wooden spoon you'd been stirring her spaghetti with into the pan and look down at her pleading pout. "Aw, yeah, I'm sorry."

You pick her up and find her head quickly buried in your neck. She's almost as warm as the stovetop. You work your hand against her head and feel her temperature, concerned for a moment.

"I thought maybe you were sick like daddy, then, but you feel okay," you say softly, stroking curls back from her face. She's started hiding behind her hair like her dad more often. "Come out, I wanna see your lovely face."

Roan lifts her chin.

"That's what your dad said to me when we met. I'd never heard that word before I met you," you tell her.

"What word?"

"'Lovely,'" you say.

She smiles with you for a couple of seconds but then it falters, and she looks at your necklace instead. A gift from her and her dad for mother's day. You'd cried for hours.

"What's the matter?" you ask, eyebrows pinching together.

"Nothing."

You readjust your grip on her hips and lean back against the counter to stop from dropping her. She's getting heavier every single day.

"Are you sure? You can tell me."

Roan shrugs. It's adorable, though her next words are heartbreaking. "I don't know," she admits.

"Are you feeling sick?"

She shakes her head but won't look at you. You hold onto her tight and wait for her to continue, if she's even going to, the clock on the wall ticking in the quiet, the smell of spaghetti sauce sticky in your nose.

"Are you sad about something? Did you… have an accident?"

She shakes her head again. "No, I didn't. It's 'coz… I feel bad."

"But not sick?"

"Not sick."

"Oh no," you murmur, biting the inside of your bottom lip as her small face crumples. "Please tell me, Ro. I don't mind what it is, I promise."

"I feel bad," she says again. "I miss dad."

You feel your eyebrows jump. It makes sense for her to miss him, he's hardly awake when she's been home and they haven't had much time together all week. It's a sudden change. You feel very guilty very quickly for not realising it.

"I'm sorry," you tell her genuinely.

"I miss you, too. We don't have our hug after school now."

Your guilt amplifies by a thousand. You haven't been spending that time with her after school, too busy checking on your bed bound partner.

"Aw, Roan, I'm sorry, I've just been so worried about daddy, I didn't mean to forget."

"You've been giving daddy hugs," she says insistently.

You lean back further to take in her face. Her cheeks are red with blush, whether that be blood rush from embarrassment or injustice, you're unsure. She's frowning at your chin, eyes flicking up to meet yours. When she realises you're watching her she looks away and starts wiggling to be put down again.

"Roan, it's okay," you start, arms crossing over her back. You angle your face to get her attention, holding her gaze. Pretty brown eyes edged in dark, long eyelashes like her dad's. "It's okay, bub. Don't wriggle, I wanna talk to you. Can I talk to you?"

She pouts some more. You pout back, bringing a hand up to the back of her head.

"I'm sorry I haven't been giving you as much attention as you dad this week," you say. You want to explain how hard it's been to handle everything by yourself, but you don't think it's the kind of thing she should ever have to worry about. "I'm really sorry, Roan, daddy's been so sick that I've been thinking about him all the time when I needed to be thinking about you too. I didn't mean to make you feel bad." Feel bad, feel jealous, feel upset by your redirected affection. "I love you so much. I didn't mean to forget our hugs, but it's okay if you're mad."

Her spirits are lifted pretty swiftly after that. "We can hug again when daddy's not sick?" she asks.

"We can hug right now!" you say urgently, carding your hand through her hair.

"On the couch?"

"Yeah, princess, on the couch. You can even eat your dinner on it if you promise not to tell dad."

"You'll eat dinner with me?" she asks, suspicious.

No tricks. "I promise."

She smiles, a mirror image of her dad and all his mischief and her relief clear. "Okay, good, because I missed you and Teddy missed you and I didn't getta tell you about the rabbit we saw at school today. It was this big and it had pink eyes."

You smile at her, a mixture of love and guilt. You're lucky to have a daughter like her, forgiving and patient, and you're lucky her dad did such an amazing job at making her that way. Rest assured, you won't forget your after school hugs again, even if Eddie's two bad coughs from the ER.

He appears an hour later to find you snuggled up on the couch, jealous and petty about it as he slots himself between you both. You and Roan hold hands over his chest. Munson cuddle piles are the best.

more eddie and roan

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie and roan #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #kid fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fandom

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storiesiwrite · 5 months

Text

Home ☾ Lee Seokmin

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship

Word count: 5026

Summary: In which you’re having one of those days when it’s a struggle to be kind to yourself, and Seokmin makes sure you feel appreciated and loved.

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

Seokmin has a gnawing feeling in his gut that tells him you’re not feeling your best today.

It’s evident in the text messages you leave him throughout the day, in your unusual choice of words. Just a small difference, but a difference all the same, and he knows you too well to miss the signs.

Perhaps it also has something to do with your tendency to hide behind a smile even as you’re buried deep in your struggles. You don’t like the idea of people around you noticing. Seokmin would know; as terrible a habit as it is, it’s one that he and you both share.

Suffice it to say, it isn’t long before he begins losing his concentration at work. Completing the simplest of tasks eventually becomes a challenge, but he can hardly expect anything else when you’re constantly on his mind.

The moment his seven-hour shift is over, he wastes no time packing up his things and clocking out of work. The original—and usual—plan has been to head straight home, but those texts of yours made him change his mind. He decides to make a detour instead, making sure to snag a couple of your favorite desserts along the way.

It begins to drizzle shortly afterwards, the skies painted in shades of midnight blue that signal an impending downpour. Not the most ideal situation, but he doesn’t mind the rain beating down on him as he runs down the streets. Doesn’t see the negative because all that matters to him is that he is coming home to you.

Please, he says in a hopeful whisper, please hang on until I get there.

And by the time he reaches the door to your shared apartment, his clothes have been completely soaked through, and he fights to catch his breath. His keys are somewhere in the depths of his sling bag, but retrieving them with both hands occupied would be a hassle, which is why he resorts to pressing the bell with one side of his knuckle. It doesn’t take long before he hears shuffling on the other side and the door cracks open.

The sight that greets him breaks his heart into slivers.

You’re standing there beyond the threshold, your eyes puffy, the dark circles beneath them more pronounced than ever. Faint blotches of red have spread across your cheeks and nose, as if you’ve spent an ample amount of time rubbing them raw. You’re faring worse than he imagined, yet despite everything, you still manage to smile.

Though said smile falls the moment you take in his drenched state.

“Oh, Seok,” you say, concern etched on your features as you quickly pull him inside and shut the door.

He settles down the desserts on the small side table (thank the heavens they were wrapped in plastic, otherwise they would not have survived the terrible weather). Peeling off his wet jacket, he places it atop a drying rack nearby and watches as you dash towards the bathroom with a frown on your face.

“Did you forget to bring an umbrella?” You call out to him, reappearing mere seconds later with a clean towel in one hand. He can’t help but smile at the gesture, so endearing it warms him despite the cold seeping through his skin.

“Well, um, I was in a hurry this morning, and it completely slipped my mind,” he explains as you take his hand, leading him towards the kitchen. When you tell him to sit on one of the shorter stools there, he simply obliges. Standing there in front of him, your face level with his own, you begin drying his face and neck with the towel.

It’s not that he actually needs your help—he can pat himself dry perfectly well—but he accepts it anyway, sees it as an opportunity to truly look at you.

This should feel comforting. This nearness with you, this form of intimacy he would never want to share with anyone else. And in other cases, he’s certain it would. But never in the two years of your relationship has he had this much trouble gazing at you. Especially like this, up close with your bloodshot eyes and swollen cheeks. It hurts him to acknowledge that he wasn’t there for you when you needed him the most.

And still, he doesn’t look away. He knows he has to say something, has to begin the conversation somehow.

“I’m sorry, love,” he tries. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

With a shake your head, you say, “I know, and you don’t need to apologize for that. But please, promise me you’ll remember to take your umbrella with you next time?” You move on to his wet hair, gently dabbing it dry. “I just don’t want you to get sick, is all.”

He gives you a small smile. You’ve always been so caring of others; it’s one of the many things he adores about you. “I will. Promise.”

“Good.” There it is, a small upward tug of your lips. It’s a start.

“I actually swung by the bakery earlier,” he says, nodding to the table near the door where the desserts lie waiting. “Bought some of those glazed donuts you love.”

You follow his gaze. “Did you?”

“Yeah, and I also brought home some boba.”

Your mouth opens slightly in delighted surprise, your eyes crinkling. “You have to stop spoiling me, Seok! I don’t think I can keep up.”

“Not planning on that any time soon. You’re just going to have to put up with it.”

A soft laugh escapes you. “I guess so.” You push the towel aside when you’re done, running your fingers through his unkempt hair in an attempt to tidy it. “There. Better?”

He leans towards you to kiss you on the lips. “Better. Thank you, love.”

“Don’t mention it.” You cup his face in your hands, and he leans against your touch.

He steals yet another brief kiss from you. “You okay? I haven’t asked you how your day was.”

He feels you tense slightly, though your expression remains neutral. “It was good. Spent the whole day at home today, got to relax a lot. You know how much I like staying in.” You chuckle with a strain that hasn’t escaped his notice. “How was yours?”

“Well, work was more hectic than usual, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I’m just glad to be back home.”

“So am I, Seok. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, love,” he murmurs. I’m with you now, he wants to add. You can talk to me.

But you say nothing, closing your eyes and leaning your forehead against his. Seokmin’s thoughts begin to wander as he weighs his options: should he be straightforward and ask you outright, or should he wait until you’re ready to talk? He imagines the latter would be the better solution, but he knows you well enough to know that you always try to bottle your feelings up.

He recalls the first time you broke down in tears in front of him; it was early on in the relationship, and you were in your fourth semester in university. You’d been given an assignment, one you were struggling to finish under the pressure of its nearing deadline. Naturally, it made you compare yourself to others who you thought were miles ahead of you.

He remembers having a hard time stringing together the words to console you, because seeing you in such pain wounded him in ways he could never describe.

“You can tell me,” he could only manage back then, his arms wrapped around you as if that alone could shield you from all the pain in the world. He’d take it in your stead if he could. “Whatever it is that’s upsetting you, you can tell me. I promise I won’t laugh. I promise I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, that’s not it, not at all,” you’d replied in between sniffles. “It’s just me overthinking again. I know it’s stupid.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t dismiss how you feel.” He kept repeating these words. But it seemed like nothing he was saying truly left its mark on you.

“You-you’ve also had enough on your plate already, and I wouldn’t want to add to that—”

“It doesn’t matter, love. Even if I do have enough on my plate, I still wouldn’t mind. I’d still want you to come to me.”

Your body shook as you tried and failed to contain your sobs. “I’m so, so sorry, Seok, I didn’t mean to cry but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I’m so sorry you have to see me like this. I... I didn’t mean to ruin the night. I didn’t to be an inconvenience to you.”

Oh, he thought, his heart breaking in two. He never even once saw you that way. He never, not even for a split second, thought you were an inconvenience.

He couldn’t understand why you felt guilty for feelings you had no way of controlling. He couldn’t understand why you felt ashamed of being human. He could only hug you tighter, could only watch like a fool as you fell apart in his arms.

And then he felt it, simmering beneath the surface—anger.

Anger at whomever it was that had the gall to make you believe you were ever an inconvenience. Anger at himself for having failed you so terribly. He’s your boyfriend, for god’s sake. You were supposed to be able to trust with him. And clearly he’d done an awful job at making you realize that he doesn’t mind you crying in front of him.

He doesn’t mind sharing the emotional burden you’ve always insisted upon carrying all by yourself. None of it matters to him if it means that you’ll feel less alone.

And this time, he won’t repeat the same mistakes again.

He pulls away to look at you, and your eyes snap open at the movement, your hands dropping away from his face.

“You sure everything’s alright?” He asks you again. “You don’t sound well at all.”

“Mhm. My nose has been stuffy since this afternoon, I think. But it’s nothing I can’t handle, nothing a few cups of tea won’t fix.” You take a few steps back from him, decidedly avoiding his gaze. “Why don’t you go get yourself cleaned up and then we eat?”

The warmth in your tone from earlier has chipped away, replaced by a stiffness he’s grown all too familiar with. The kind that always tinges your voice whenever you’re dodging the truth. The kind that tells him you’re building your walls back up.

Alright, then, he thinks to himself. Waiting it is.

“I’m gonna get a bath running for you, okay?” You say with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Wouldn’t want you to freeze.”

He stands up from the chair so quickly he nearly stumbles. “No, no, that’s alright.” He moves closer to you. “You don’t have to. I’ve got it.”

“No, no. I can do it for you.” You’re still not looking at him in the eye. “You must be tired from all that work.”

His jaw clenches a little. Even as you’re struggling, you try to put everyone else before you. You refuse to let him take care of you.

And finally, after a long silence from his end, he makes himself nod.

“Okay, then. I won’t take long.”

☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎ ☁︎

God, you think to yourself, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands. What a long, shitty day it has been.

You never knew staying at home the whole day could leave you so emotionally drained. It began the moment you realized you’d nearly missed an important online meeting because you’d thought it was scheduled for tomorrow. In your rush to get yourself prepared for said meeting, you managed to spill coffee all over your work papers, the smudged ink rendering the words illegible.

After the meeting, it took you seemingly-endless hours trying to salvage whatever remains of these papers. Because these papers are the same ones you’ve spent months carefully drafting, writing, and revising after every feedback from your boss. The same ones you’ve spent countless of sleepless nights poring over to see if there is anything you’ve missed, to make sure all the details are in line with the facts.

And for someone who thrives with the help of daily to-do lists, this whole thing stresses you out. Your schedule for the week is already very packed as it is, and the idea of not doing a few tasks that you really wanted to get done today, all because of this stupid, stupid mistake of yours that you could have easily avoided...

You feel like screaming. And you certainly feel like an idiot. What makes you think you could pull off juggling a university major with part-time work?

By now Seokmin must have already figured things out, despite your earlier efforts to pass it off as nothing more than symptoms of a cold. But there’s no doubt that he knows. He’s too observant to have missed anything.

And the fact that you’ve spent the last thirty minutes or so sequestering yourself in the bathroom isn’t helping your case. Try as you might, you don’t have it in you to face him like this, not when it’s so obvious that you’re frustrated. More frustrated than you probably have the right to feel.

Then there’s a soft knock on the door. It clicks open and Seokmin’s face slides into view. “Hey, love. May I come in?”

You nod, looking at his reflection in the mirror. “Yeah, of course.” You pretend to pat your hands dry. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, shutting the door behind him. He moves closer until he stands right behind you, his hands finding your waist, his chin resting on the crook of your neck. “Just that you’re taking so long in here and I’m starting to miss you.”

A laugh weaves its way out of you—the first genuine one of the day. You’re not surprised; if there’s anyone you know who can lift your sunken spirits in a matter of seconds, it has to be him.

“I miss you too, Seok.” You turn around to properly look at him, putting your arms around his body, his warmth enveloping you as he reciprocates the gesture. “You know, I was actually thinking...”

“Yeah?”

“What about a movie after this? I wanna get all cozy with you and watch something while we eat the snacks you bought earlier.”

His smile is soft as he regards you. “Sounds like a plan. Got anything specific in mind?”

“Not really, no. But I think I want something light-hearted. Like a rom-com? Would that be okay with you?”

“I’m okay with anything you want.” He plants a kiss on your cheek. “Just pick a movie, and I’ll get it up and running in no time.”

“Okay.”

As a comfortable sort of silence takes over, you allow yourself to think you got away with it, to hope that Seokmin would sweep it under the rug this time. But then his smile falls, a graver expression now taking its place, and that hope gutters out as easily as an unsteady flame. You stiffen, already knowing where this is going even before he speaks.

“But first, I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Of course. You knew he would catch on, but that knowledge doesn’t make this confrontation any easier.

You try to keep your voice from wavering, forcing down the lump on your throat. “What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong.”

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.” His fingers brush the darkened skin under your eyes, run down the side of your blotched cheek, as if to say, I can see right through you. The gesture feels so intimate that you have to look away, only to regret it immediately. It gives you away, leaves you with no choice except to start confessing.

“You knew?” The words escape you in an embarrassed whisper. What a stupid question to ask. Of course he knew. He probably found out the moment he stepped into the apartment, the lingering signs of your frustration clear as day.

“Yeah. When you sent me those texts earlier this morning, I knew something was wrong.”

Oh. And here you thought you were being subtle enough.

Seokmin hesitates for a moment, as if sorting out his thoughts. “I was... I was going to wait until you’re ready to talk,” he says by way of explanation, his brow lined with worry. “But I can’t stand not doing anything when you’ve locked yourself in here for the past half hour. I can’t stand the idea of sitting still when you’re just one door away and it’s clear that you’re not alright.”

You squeeze your eyes shut like you’d just seen a sight that stung.

“You can tell me,” he continues. “You don’t have to keep it from me.”

“I know that, Seok. I just...” you trail off, finding that it keeps getting harder and harder to hold back the emotions threatening to drown you. It takes you some time to muster the courage to look him in the eye again. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me if it upsets you like this. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? What is there to even talk about? Nothing really happened; you spent the whole day just contending with that cruel voice in your head that always tells you you’re not enough. That you’ll never be enough, especially because you manage to mess up even the simplest, most trivial of things. Especially because you let said things ruin your whole day.

It’s embarrassing.

At your silence, Seokmin shifts closer to you. “Talk to me, love. I’m here for you. I won’t judge you, I promise.” His voice is so gentle that for a moment, you’re tempted to just give in and tell him everything.

This isn’t about the lack of trust; it has never been, and even Seokmin himself knows that. And neither is this about worrying what his response would be. If there is anything your past experiences with him can tell you, it’s that he deals with your breakdowns in a loving, gentle way. Every single time.

He’s aware of your mind’s tendency to shove one worst-case scenario upon another until you’ve run out of space and energy to think about anything rational. Admittedly, it’s not the healthiest habit, and you’ve been trying to unlearn it, but sometimes there are days when you simply can’t cope and begin to spiral.

Despite everything, Seokmin always understands. You know he would understand now, but it’s precisely the reason why this is the last thing you would want to talk about. He’s the kind of person who feels deeply, who doesn’t need to try too hard to put himself in other people’s shoes. That act of sympathizing can be so draining, and you’re not willing to subject him to that. His work is exhausting as it is without you having to pile your struggles atop of his own.

All you can offer him now is a tight-lipped smile. “I wasn’t lying when I said it’s not a big deal.”

He shakes his head. “It’s clear to me that it is. And even if it’s not, I’ll still want to hear it all the same.”

The small, knowing tug of his lips tells you he can see what’s running through your mind. You find yourself having to bite back a dry laugh. Ridiculous, really, how you bother trying to hide things from him when he knows you as well as the back of his own hand.

“Even if it’s something I’ve told you many, many times before?” You ask, still giving him the option to move past this.

“Even so. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together. We’ll figure it out, the way we always do.”

His kindness leaves a gaping hole in your aching heart. This, you think to yourself, this isn’t something you deserve. You’ve simply been fortunate enough to have crossed paths with him that one fateful night in a certain cafe, that night that changed the trajectory of everything else that came along afterwards.

A tear slips down your cheek. Then another. Disappointed in yourself, you forcefully rub your eyes, only to have him reach out to stop what you’re doing.

He winces a little, as though he were the one on the receiving end of your roughness. “Careful, you’ll hurt yourself like that.” His thumb brushes against your cheek. “Here, let me do it for you.”

And it is at this moment that you finally break, the walls you’ve built to keep your emotions at bay crumbling under his touch as he slowly wipes away your tears. He treats you with the utmost care as you cry on his shoulder, listens to you as you try to recount to him all that has happened today. His attention stays undivided the whole time, even as you stutter or can’t seem to find the words to express how you feel.

“I know it’s the same problem every time,” you sob. You hate the way your voice breaks all over. “I know it may seem like... like I’m not changing at all, but I truly am trying my best, Seok.”

His free hand draws soothing lines down your back. “I know that, love. I have never once doubted you. And I can understand how hard it is to overcome this. But you can. You’ve gotten so much better than you give yourself credit for.”

That reminder that you don’t deserve him flits through your mind yet again, scolding you for not feeling ashamed. But the look on his face shows not even the slightest hint of ridicule or disappointment. Seokmin simply holds you in his arms and whispers in your ear over and over that everything will be alright. You want so badly to believe him.

Sniffing, you pull slightly away to meet his gaze. You don’t care for the redness in your eyes or the tear stains on your cheeks. It’s important that he hears this from you and sees the sincerity behind it. “You’re being so good to me, Seok. Too good to me. You always... you’re always doing so much more than I ever deserve—”

“Don’t say that—”

“And I can only hope that you’re alright with being stuck with me. I know I can be a lot to handle, and I can’t imagine I’m easy to love.”

At that, he stops talking, stares at you as though he has a hard time believing what he’s heard. As though waiting for you to take back your words.

And when you don’t, he asks, his voice low and serious, “Why do you think that way?”

Because you can’t think otherwise. Would he not grow tired of your problems? Would he not grow tired of you? Who wouldn’t when it’s the same shit over and over again?

He takes your silence as a sign to go on. “Do you really think that that’s how I feel about you? That you’re difficult to love because you go through problems sometimes? Because you have feelings like real people do, like I do?”

Pain flashes across his features, along with something else. It takes you a while to recognize it as anger, though you know that anger isn’t directed at you; rather, it’s on your behalf. “I’m so, so sorry that you were made to feel like you have no right to be sad or upset when things are difficult. But I’m here to remind you that whatever it is you feel, it’s valid.”

You say nothing in return, feeling the weight of his words as they sink in.

“I’ve seen the way you treat others,” he continues. “I’ve seen how deeply you appreciate and care for them. You don’t think twice when it comes to helping people, even the ones you barely know. But I’ve never seen even just a shred of that same kindness when it comes to yourself. You constantly beat yourself up for simply being human, and you have no idea how much that breaks my heart.

“And it makes me wish you’d see yourself the way I see you, because maybe then you’d come to learn all the wonderful qualities you have that you always seem to look past.” He lifts your hand to his lips, leaving a trail of kisses along your knuckles. “You’re a student working a part-time job; don’t you realize how impressive that is? Not to mention the fact that you’re getting better and better at not overthinking when it used to be tough for you. All this progress has never escaped my notice or anyone else’s, just your own.”

You’ve calmed down by now, your crying reduced to small sniffles. It’s still hard to keep your eyes open, and it’s even harder to come up with a response. But you’re content with simply hearing what he has to say, and your heart is full of tenderness and warmth. He’s never once failed to make you feel so loved.

“And as for what you said earlier about me being stuck with you”—he pecks your lips softly—“I hope you know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going to love you any less because of your struggles.”

His declaration hits a little too close to home, rubbing at a lifelong wound that has yet to heal. After all, the reason why you hadn’t wanted to get into a relationship before Seokmin came into the picture was fear. Fear that once your partner discovers just how ugly and messy things can get for you, how much emotional baggage you carry, they will leave.

A part of you has always known that confiding in Seokmin would make it hurt less. But a greater, selfish part of you is afraid that he’d grow tired of putting up with you and your constant problems. Maybe you’d never dare to admit it out loud, but the truth is that you would rather struggle alone in silence than lose him altogether due to your honesty.

But Seokmin sees through all that. And instead of leaving, he stands by your side and holds your hand through it. He holds your broken pieces as you try to stitch them back together.

And all the things he’s said about you... you know he truly means every one of them. He’s genuine in everything he says and does. But you can’t wrap your head around the idea of someone great like him can see you that way. It’s a surreal thought, one you never dared to entertain before now.

But maybe he’s right. Maybe you’ve been too hard on yourself. You’re certain that if it were anyone else going through the same, exact motions as you are now, you wouldn’t tell them the hurtful things you hurl at yourself at any given chance. And you’ve always known that progress is never linear, and falling down once or even a dozen times doesn’t eliminate all the previous steps you’ve taken. It doesn’t diminish all that you’ve accomplished, all that you’ve done to be better.

Whatever it was that Seokmin saw in you that one night from two years ago, when he asked you to be his, it doesn’t matter. For the millionth time, you’re so glad you took the leap and trusted that he would catch you.

All these new thoughts running through your head, all these feelings of fondness and love for him coursing through you, yet you can only manage to ask him this: “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Know all the right things to say every time.”

He lets out a small laugh, relieved that you’re no longer as upset as you’ve been before. “Because I’m only saying the truth. Loving you is a commitment, a decision I make every single day. And that decision comes easily, willingly, because you’re so, so easy to love.”

You feel like crying all over again, but for the right reasons this time. God, you really are the luckiest person in the world. “So are you, Seok. I hope you know that, too,” you say as you pull him into a hug.

“Feeling any better?” You may not be able to see him, but you just know that he’s grinning.

“Yeah.” You nestle up against him. You don’t ever want to let go. “Thank you for always hearing me out. For not only accepting me as I am, but also encouraging me to be the best version I can be.”

“I can say the same thing to you, too.” He kisses your brow. “Thank you, love. For all the times you’ve held my hand and kept me grounded and going when it’s so easy to give up. You’ve been there for me in ways I can never explain, and I’m so, so grateful.”

It truly is the least you can do for him. You snuggle your head into his shoulder with a contented sigh. “Thank you for always giving the best hugs.”

He laughs heartily at that. “You can have all the hugs you want, I promise. But I need you to promise me one thing in return. Promise you’ll never hesitate to let me know whenever you’re not feeling okay. I’m here for you, and I don’t want you to go through things alone. I want you to let me take care of you.”

You glance up, your eyes meeting his. “I promise, as long as you do the same and let me take care of you, too.” And when he nods, you add, “I love you.”

He’s beaming so widely that you can’t help but do the same. “I love you, too.”

It’s been true all along: home is not a place but a person, after all.

— ☽ —

author’s note: not so proud of how this fanfic turned out, but i’m still glad i got it done because it truly helped me get through a tough time. i hope that you find comfort reading it as i did writing it. lots of love and take care ♡

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historia-vitae-magistras · 5 months

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How about dreary?

Nedcan break up fighttttt lmao. This one is also complete.

Amsterdam, 1990.

Jan opened the front door to the dreary day and the nation of Canada standing on his stoop with a shy, hopeful smile.

"I wasn't expecting you!" Jan blurted, taken on the back foot. "You're a surprise!"

"A good one, I hope," Matt smiled. He was dressed warmer than required for the weather, wrapped in his good winter coat, gloves and hat and standing in the drizzle, one hand above his face to keep it dry. Jan stood there, gawking. "Can't I come in?"

"Of course!" Jan said, shaking himself loose of his thoughts and flinging the door open.

Matt stepped inside, peeling off his hat and gloves and moving to give Jan a kiss once inside the privacy of the house.

"What are you doing here?" Jan asked. Matt's lips were fish-cold, and Jan shivered a little before he took his coat.

"I was in Kyiv," Matt said. "And I was feeling a bit more myself, so I called your office, and they said you didn't have anything booked, so I got my connecting flight to Rotterdam."

"Oh," Jan said.

"Is it a bad time?" Matt asked.

"No, no. Just… I've got a flight in a few hours."

"Where too?"

"First leg is DC,"

"Oh?" Matt asked, and they moved toward the living room, Matt's suitcase in the foyer and coat hanging on the rack like a guest. "What's in DC?"

"A layover and a few hours at the Dutch Embassy. They're giving a dinner for the Queen."

"Ah, very official. And then?"

"Another flight."

"Where too?" Matt asked, putting his arms around Jan and smiling. "Where have they sent you off to now?"

"Nowhere," Jan said, kissing his hair. Matt dropped his head on Jan's shoulder. "I took vacation time."

"Did I pre-empt a surprise visit? Matt smiled, kissing him, full of promise. He was still cold, and Jan could only let it happen, full of sadness.

Jan was silent for a moment. "Tokyo, actually."

"Oh," Matt dropped his arms. "Well, that's not great timing on my part; I'm sorry. I must have called before you put it on your schedule."

"It's not scheduled," Jan said. "Personal."

Matthew disengaged. "Again?"

"I haven't been there in months."

"A month," Matt said. "You were there in December, and it's not even February."

"I have something I want to be there for."

"Something?" Matt said.

"A gift. A windmill is going up in Sakura."

"A windmill. Goodness." Matt said. "Does that require you?"

"It's my design, so yes, I supposed it does. I based it on one I had in the 18th century. It's quite a fine design.

Matt huffed. "Lucky Sakura."

"Kiku has been looking forward to it.

"You have to, by the sounds of it."

"I have."

Matt nodded, collapsing onto the sofa. He looked off somehow, something more shadowed about his eyes than usual, his face thinner—probably jet lag.

"Do you want to get some lunch?" Jan asked. "Before I go?"

Matt looked at his hands and swallowed. "Jan, If I asked you to stay, would you?"

"Is there a reason I should?" Jan raised a brow.

"I miss you, love you, and want to spend time with you."

"My flights booked, Matt."

"Right." Matt shut his eyes and exhaled. "Okay. That was bad timing on my part. I'm sorry I dropped in unannounced. I really thought you were free."

"Why don't we get lunch and figure out another time."

"I'm not hungry," Matt said. His jaw tensed, and he looked up at Jan. "When can I expect a visit from you?"

"I'll be over with the tulips, like usual."

"Could you take some time before then? Or could I pop over?"

"Can't it wait until May?"

Matt flexed his hands in his lap. "Does it have to? I miss you."

"I don't think I can take any more time for a few months, but I'll call when I get back."

"Do you miss me when I'm not here?"

"I'm always happy to see you."

"That's not what I asked." Matt returned. "Do you miss me? Because it feels like I haven't seen much of you in a long time."

"I'll be there in May. A whole week."

"How long in Japan?"

'Fourteen days."

"Fourteen days," Matt repeated. "Another fourteen days?"

"December was only 10."

"Only?" Matt spat back and then shut his eyes, exhaling. "Sorry."

"That was for a whole different thing. This is official."

"You just said it was personal!"

"It is! But it's for an event!" Jan said, running his hand over Matt's arm to take his hand. "Come on, let's get some food before I have to go. I'll call you when I get back and I'll see you in May."

"Do you even want to see me in May?"

"I always come in May."

"Do you want to though? You're not beholden to me." Matt stared at his hand, supporting him against the wall rather than at Jan. "We're not married; we're not human. You can do whatever you like."

Jan frowned. "Matt— you didn't even mention you wanted company before dumping yourself on my doorstep. I'm not a mind reader."

Matt squeezed his eyes shut against some sort of pain.

"Matthew, be reasonable. I can't do anything if you don't talk to me."

"You aren't listening anymore when I try. Even when I'm here, you're elsewhere. You had a life before me. You still have a life without me. It's fine. Do whatever or whomever you want."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means there were no honorifics when he talked to you. And you still use the formal case when talking to me in public. Because I'm not imp— it's fine. You should go. I'll talk to you when I'm in a fit state."

"You could just talk to me now!" Jan said. "I'm listening now."

"You're already packed," Matt said. "It's fine. I'll go to my Dad's."

"I'm sorry this time didn't work out," Jan said, scrubbing his face. "But you didn't tell me you wanted to see me until 10 minutes ago."

"I tried in December. You were in Japan." Matt smiled wanly, and Jan wasn't sure he'd ever seen him look so hollow. "I tried. I tried talking to you. But you don't return my calls, and that time you were unreachable and in Japan, and now you're on your way there again."

"Matt. There's only a competition where you go and make one. The world's changed, and times change. You have your place with me sometimes, and I have mine with him sometimes. It's not a competition. Just compartments."

"So you can put me in a little box and take me out when you're bored?" Matt sighed through his nose and rubbed his temples. "Just like that?"

"That's not what I said."

"Isn't it?" Matt shot back. "Isn't that what you're doing exactly? I was place holder while you waited for something better! Fifty years ago, you kissed me on VJ day with almost as much relief as VE Day. You kissed me both times. I didn't expect anything from you. But you made me love you. And now you throw that in my face by telling me nothing changed?"

"It hasn't!" Jan shouted. "I love you!"

"Then why aren't you actually here when you lay next to me?" Matt shouted. "Where the fuck are you when I try to talk to you and get only grunts? Why are we always playing phone tag? When I'm trying to make love, and you're closing your eyes? Where the fuck are you, and who are you thinking about? Because in fifty years, we haven't been monogamous, but you never used to close your eyes!

"I buy you flowers every year. I pay attention to you when we're together. But it's not as if we live together. Our lives are long. And complicated. I have feelings for you, for him, for a lot of people. Same as you. Don't begrudge me my life, Matt, Fuck! Its not my fault you're such a fucking child you can't understand this!"

"Oh, I'm a child now?" Matt stood. "It makes me a child that I don't understand how you can do this with him? Of all people?"

"It does! You are a fucking child if you can't understand that. And a hypocrite. Your parents have done far more to each other than Kiku and I ever did."

"How the fuck does that make this okay?"

"Because there was a single war between Kiku and me. One! A single war in 400 years."

"It was the largest conflict the world's ever seen! Ludwig nearly killed you, and Kiku allied with him and they both tried to bring the world to heel. Tell me, should I fuck Ludwig? No!"

"You can if you want! Go, fuck him, love him, let him love you, change! Maybe you'd understand some fucking sense."

Matthew's eyes widened. Jan exhaled and saw his breath. The room had dropped twenty degrees around the personification of Canada.

"Do… do you love him?"

"I did."

"Thats not what I'm asking. Do you love him now? At this moment."

"Yes."

"Fine." Matt exhaled, and the room's temperature rose again. "Fine. Go."

"Matt, don't play the jealous wife. It's beneath you."

"Who the fuck said I was? I just said you were free to do as you liked, didn't I?" Matt smiled again, bitter and fragile like shards of porcelain. "Enjoy your time, Jan."

"…. Will I see you in May?"

"I don't think so."

Send me a word, if it’s in one of my wip documents I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in

#the ask box || probis pateo #my writing || cacoethes scribendi #Jan and Matt || the bells of liberation echo into eternity #hws netherlands #hws canada

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igglemouse · 2 months

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Flower Day, a day about new beginnings and blooming relationships. I think. It's a day about flowers and in the end that's what flowers are, right?

It's not quite Love day, for sure, but it's still a great day for a date.

I take a bite of my waffle, wondering if there will be a day where I tire of them. Possibly, but there are many different varieties of waffles, isn't there?

Last night is still on my mind, my conversation with Pascal didn't feel quite like a conversation at all, it felt more like a sparring session. I do understand where he's coming from, he has full confidence that he'll reach his goals, goals that are sure to make him a simmillionaire and so he's very protective about who he allows in his circle. Yet, why shouldn't I be the same way?

Today I'll see him again but this time the intentions between us will be clearer as it will be a date. I guess I'll see then if this relationship is meant to blossom or wither under the hot Oasis Springs sun

Flower Day might be about new beginnings but for my stand I'm hoping to just find a little more consistency. Yesterday was not the best of days to be sure but today? Today was a little better. Over a hundred simoleons which is always the goal and this is despite being a little distracted by the date I'll be going on later today.

There is a certain buzz to the air when it comes to Flower Day or perhaps it's wrong to call it a buzz? There's a taste to the air that makes you feel like flowers might bloom with your every step.

Ah, no, wait, that's just the Flower Bunny making her appearance. There's is certainly an aura she carries around that is hard to explain but seeing her in my backyard put a smile on my face since it's not every year I get to see her.

I guess it is kind of odd to have her just loitering around my property but since she had dropped a few flowers I guess I could forgive her.

"Don't forget to plant a flower today!" she insists, completely invading my personal space to remind me. "Planting a flower today will make tomorrow a little better!"

"Umm, yeah, I might get around to that!"

"Don't forget!"

Yeaaaa...any ways, I do have a date I should be getting to!

The park had more of a chill vibe to it today which made it the perfect location for our date. I thought that Pascal's idea would have been a little walk and talk outing, something simple, an activity that would allow us to know the other better under what had become beautiful day.

So it was slightly surprising to find him standing in the middle of checkered blanket, flanked by pillows and a basket that looked filled with a variety of fruits, bread, and cheese.

"I was beginning to worry!" His arms out in invitation.

Watcher, I think I might have been five or so minutes late! It was nice to know he was so eager to see me again.

I mentioned that the weather had helped in creating a beautiful day but just that one word fails to describe it. It was perfect. I am sure that the summers of Oasis Springs can get hot enough to peel skin but if today is representative of its Springs then maybe I can find more appreciation for Flower Day.

Despite the fruits and I assume fancy cheeses that he brought for our little picnic they mostly remained untouched as we both decided to nibble on conversation instead.

I asked him about why yesterday's conversation took on a bit more of a defensive tone. "I guess I can be a little guarded," he tells me, leaning back on his arms and his brow taking on a crease. This admittance seemed like a revelation to himself. "I blame young players seminar I went to, at the end of last year."

Now that piqued my curiosity. "What was that about?"

"Women," his head tilts back and he chuckles some. "Just that some are very predatory, gold diggers, you know? Just looking to tie themselves to a man and drain him dry."

"Uh huh," but I'm not really listening because for a moment a warm breeze blows my attention to how perfect the day is. It was the comforting kind of heat that made you appreciate the sun and life in general. Since I wasn't paying attention I ask the same question but worded in another way. "What was the advice?"

"Watch out for cougars."

"What?" I'm not sure I understand but I guess that's my fault for not being fully tuned in to our conversation. "Cougars?"

"Women that are much older and..." he stops mid-sentence, thinking better than to continue and instead opting to focus on the present. "I don't know, it's silly. I'll keep to my path, my practice, my goals."

"Probably a good idea."

The day unfolded lazily, the blue sky calm above us a testament to the indifferent heat that had added to the comfort of the moment. Our conversations dipping from one lighthearted conversation to another. From favorite movies, songs, to of course food. I learned he was a big fan of waffles, action movies, and hip hop.

Eventually our talk would drift into a more serious topic, thanks to me.

"What do you want from life?" I hated asking it the moment it fell from my lips. It seemed too much an interview question and the pause that came after made me regret it even more.

"Trophies." He answers eventually, determination oozing from that one word. "To be the best. What else could someone want?"

I lifted my shoulders in a quick shrug. "I don't know?" I start to answer, realizing that he had asked a rhetorical but there certainly was a better answer than what he provided. "Happiness? Seeing the world? The simple things in life?"

With a flick of his hand he waved those things away. "I don't doubt that but...nothing feels better than a victory well earned."

My scoff draws his attention and a smirk that seemed to challenge me. "You know what else I want?" His hand closes over mines as he demands eye contact. Creating a romantic tension that I wasn't ready for. "I want you."

I had the urge to bring my lips to his, to seal the deal, but something in me told me this was too fast. It would be just a kiss, I told myself, but when is a kiss just a kiss? So instead, I opt for a lighthearted response, a malicious grin forming on my lips as I challenge him again. "And why me?"

"That question again!" he groans playfully but before I can defend myself his hands are on me, tickling me, making me pay for asking it again. Unfortunately, or fortunately for him, I am very ticklish and soon he has me squirming under the skill of his fingers. Playfully I tell him to stop but truthfully I don't mind a few more tickles!

Once he was does tormenting me with tickles he had me on my back, our fingers interlocked and our gazes as well. There was a charge between us, undeniable, and while I'm sure he had something to say I think we both understood there was little else to say. Now was a time for action...

Episode List - Episode 2 ‘Sabor de Selva’

Picnic poses by @starrysimsie

#the sims #the sims 4 #sims legacy #iggleverse #sims 4 legacy #my sims #generation 1 #frida varela #pascal alcocer #The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #soot #sims of our time

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ghostaholics · 1 year

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𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒘𝒂𝒗𝒆 (𝒉𝒄)

PAIRING: Captain John Price x fem!Reader WARNING(S): [ 18+ ]; unprotected p-in-v sex; shower sex, unintentional temperature play A/N: I see your snowed-in cabin fics and instead raise you to 45˚C/100F+ scenarios with the desperate need to stay cool; inspired by the excessive weather where I live. Honestly idk what this is. Just sweaty Price brain rot.

❝ Always makin’ fun of my boonie hat – not much of a laugh now, is it? ❞

And without saying anything else, he plucks it off his head with one smooth motion before setting it on your own, a rush of heat floods your face at the idea that he's just sacrificed his most treasured protective outwear at your expense.

❝ Looks good, might be better on you than me. ❞

Having to reapply another fresh layer of sunscreen along the thick muscle of his neck, your hands kneading into the sweat-slick skin at his nape – even though you've already wiped at his neck so that it's dry but the sweltering heart keeps generating more beads of perspiration (drip, drip) in the same way the thought of you touching him spawns a fresh gush between your legs, all sticky and messy.

And what makes it even worse is the soft grunts he lets out as your fingertips work on their own accord, finding a knot in between his shoulders and easing the point of tension there with purposeful movements as he relaxes under you, but you start to falter because he's making noises that you really don't want to think too much about before his voice, pitched low and hoarse, startles you out of your thoughts—

❝ Keep at it, love. ❞

Then you're finally done; you tell him so, and you feel some reluctance as you're pulling away because a stupid part of you wants to know what other sounds you can coax out of him. So you adjust the shemagh over his neck back in place and swallow the lump in your throat.

❝ Thank you, ❞ he murmurs, and it's in the same fucking tone he used earlier that turns your breathing shallow and useless.

❝ Anytime. ❞

Then he turns around, eyes smoldering, irises bleeding blue and says—

❝ Don't say that if you're not looking for me to take you up on that offer. ❞

Price fetches some ice cubes. You're not sure where he gets them; you only know that he turns up with a container out of nowhere.

He cups your jaw, angles your head up to expose the column of your throat, cool mouth pressed against your heated flesh, slighty salty with sweat. It's almost overstimulating, the coldness of his lips and the rough scrape of his facial hair against your sensitive skin.

When it melts, he laps up the remaining liquid, flattening his tongue, leaves little nips here and there as he trails over your neck.

The shower in the safehouse is complete and utter shite, not cold enough, lukewarm at best, but it's running water so he can't complain too much about all of its faults as long as it washes away the sticky feeling of being drenched everywhere along his body.

He's peeling off his gear fast, every layer, shucking it off on his way to the bathroom

And while you're still transfixed on his retreating figure, he notices that you don't follow him so he comes back, drags you into the bathroom without saying another word.

He sits you on the counter, starts with sliding your jacket off your shoulder, unlacing your boots, pulling off your top, and once you finally snap out of it, you're helping him speed up the process.

He could fuck you like this, on the counter, or over it with the mirror in front of you. But he doesn't. Maybe later.

Another reason this shower's fucking terrible: it's a small space that can really only accommodate one person, but he'll make it work, god damn it, and he hoists you up, has your legs circling around his waist because space in this cramped stall is both a luxury and a curse.

You tell him to fuck you, not to waste time on foreplay because you've been waiting so long, and he knows, he's just as bad.

❝ I will after, I promise... I fuckin' promise I'll take my time then. ❞

He groans as he pushes into you, feeds you his cock. You're right; you're ready for him, cunt swallowing him whole as he fucks you against the shower tile.

❝ Just too easy, sweetheart. ❞

#don’t read this I think I wrote this under a fever dream #i'm pretty sure i had more to say and just cut to the chase #john price x reader #john price smut #john price x you #captain john price #cod headcanons

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mirohtron · 2 years

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to peel your heart in the name of acting

The hero feels dizzy. Unsteady on their feet.

The villain, their best friend, glares at them unmasked.

They know. They know. This is a curse.

"You seem rather surprised."

"You're..." my best friend. My dearest. My love. "Plainer than I thought."

"And not as young, I bet."

"Yeah."

It morphs into silence. The hero's heart thuds like a hammer, into their organs, dropping down past their stomach like a weight they're too weak to lift. They feel sick. They haven't eaten. There's bile clawing up their esophagus.

The hero heaves in a breath and turns away.

"I've unmasked several heroes before," says the villain. "Villains, too. There's something disappointing about seeing their face, isn't there?"

"Yeah." The hero's vision won't focus. Do they know? Do they know now? The hero's fingers curl into fists and they force the nausea down. "I'd rather continue the chase pretending this never happened."

"But it did happen. You'll never let this go, you'll search for me. Won't you?"

Like the searching hadn't been done. Like the hero doesn't know their favourite fruit, how they cut their apples, how they like it when the hero feeds them oranges, damn it. How they can be cruel sometimes and the hero expects it. How they watch them like a hawk when they're holding the kitchen knife, chopping up onions and garlic and chillies like they'll stab them.

Do they know? Did they always know? Were they just waiting for the hero to know, too?

The hero kneels down on wobbly feet. Untie the ropes with cold, numb hands.

The villain stares down at them. Their friend. The sweetest thing they had until a minute ago. The cruelest, most vicous thing they have. Their dearest. Their love.

The next day the hero falls ill, sneezing into tissues. The villain presses the paper against their nose, clogging the airways until the hero has to breathe through their mouth. The chicken soup is just a tad saltier. Their hands are just a little bit more rough. Their quips come more easily. They stare longer. The villain never leaves their side for a moment.

This is a curse. This is torture.

The villain wipes away a tear, pretending the hero's eyes are dry because of the cold weather. They pretend their sniffles are from the sickness.

"Hard, isn't it?" they say, tracing lines into the hero's palm. "Being an undergrad. Working so hard knowing damn well this is all fruitless work. The truth is rarely so kind."

"I've known."

"But it punches you in the face and you fall ill."

The hero pretends they're talking about their failed project. They take the villain's hand and squeeze hard. So hard it is past the strength of their civilian identity.

I love you. I love you. Is this what ends us?

It is kind of the villain to not acknowledge it.

"Thank you," the hero says, even though what they want to do is sob into their friend's chest and feel them card their fingers through their hair. I love you. I love you. Isn't that enough?

The villain takes a tissue and suffocates the hero with it until their nose chafes. "You're welcome."

All throughout their life, all that they were was just a pair of actors, weren't they?

#heroes and villains #villains and heroes #villain #villains #hero #heroes #kyles.writing #writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #angst #civilian identity #secret ID #villain x hero #hero x villain #villan/hero #hero/villain

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the-bjd-community-confess · 2 years

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I get that MSC is great and all for professional faceup artists and stuff, but that stuff can literally kill you and it’s very hard to get and expensive a lot of the time and in order to not get super sick from using it you have to use expensive respiratory equipment that has to be regularly replaced and the weather has to be *just right* to use it or else it doesn’t work and you waste it.

I don’t get why it’s the first thing people recommend to beginner customizers. And then after that people always recommend air brush sealant, but air brushes are expensive and can be hard to use and learn and they still can be hazardous to you.

Brush on sealants work and they work surprisingly well. I’ve used liquitex matte varnish for years (and I’ve heard other people recommend others, but I’ve never seen a reason to switch) for all kinds of art even in my professional work, so when I got into doll customizing and I saw a video where someone painted their bjds using liquitex and a sponge to get enough tooth for pastels and stuff I tried that first before even considering buying MSC and a fancy mask for it and it works great! If you want to get into selling faceup services I would probably recommend looking into MSC because it can be a bit more consistent, but if you’re just enjoying the hobby for you, try liquitex and a makeup sponge first. Takes a few tries to learn to make sure dust doesn’t get caught in it, but it doesn’t need to be done with a mask or outside and the layers dry in like 2-5min if applied right. It removes with alcohol and a magic eraser but otherwise is very durable unless you expose it to high humidity before it can fully dry (takes like 24hrs maybe more if there’s not good airflow and then it’ll be rock hard). It holds pastels great even cheap ones and it’s very inexpensive. The only thing I can’t speak to is how good it is for watercolor pencils because I hate them so I don’t use them for my faceups, but I have used them in the past and they worked mine just weren’t very pigmented but the layer had to be really dry.

I’ve been painting all my dolls for years now and the faces look really nice in pictures. In person they have a bit of a skin texture, but I like that. I even body blushed a doll with liquitex matte varnish recently and I didn’t have to apply it everywhere so I didn’t have to take the doll apart or anything and the application is very smooth and I haven’t noticed any peeling around the joints yet. It protects really well against staining as I’ve only had one doll stain and it was vinyl and I was careless and didn’t apply evenly around the eyes and the crease of the lips because it was one of my earlier faceups, so there were some stains in the crevices, but that’s user error not the product.

I just hate seeing everyone always recommend something that’s so dangerous and hard to use for people who just want to have fun painting their own dolls when there are real alternatives and if you don’t like using a brush on sealant they’re like at most $14 a bottle and they can be used for so many other projects so it’s not really a waste and all you need is a paintbrush or a cheap bag of makeup sponges. It also dissolves really well in (high percentage) alcohol if you don’t rinse a brush or something in time, so you don’t have to soak them in acetone or anything hazardous and hard to dispose of.

Slightly tangential side note because I’ve seen people do this -> if you are using acetone for whatever reason or other solvents please please pleeease don’t pour them down a sink or in a toilet when you’re done. Not only is it bad for the sewer system and stuff, but most pipes today are PVC and things like acetone can dissolve the piping when the liquid stalls. Dispose of them in a sealed container and put it in the garbage. I hope that everyone already knows this, but if not, now you do.

But yeah, try a brush on sealant with a sponge or recommend that method to a newbie looking to learn how to paint a face. It’s easy to get and use and clean up and it’s not hazardous to your health.

Sorry this is long, but that’s my PSA

~Anonymous

#BJD #ABJD #BJD Confessions #Community Confessions #Faceup Materials #Faceups.#Safety

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chawarin-panich · 1 year

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“ i remember our first kiss. ”

@kun-is-my-daddy had prompted the same thing and theoretically he will be getting his other prompt filled. I am sorry for trying to write collapsing timelines after getting high, knowing full well that tenses are my ultimate enemy. I hope you like this and this makes more sense to you than my poor brain going and WHICH LEO IS THIS AGAIN

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title: and we are here

pairing: kunessi

rating: PG-13 It takes some time for them to return to their room. It’s partly because Leo can’t move an inch without five people seeking his attention but also because - holy shit - they’ve finally done it.

All of them.

And Kun wants to be with his teammates because it’s not just a game or a tournament, is it? It’s every day and every year they have spent together, it’s every failure and success, it's every person who’s gotten into this jersey and dreamed these dreams together.

Kun wishes he were younger so that he could share it with those he looked up to, the way the kids look at him. He wishes he were younger so that it would feel less final, swimming in a sea of possibility instead of finally finishing a marathon that he’s been running his whole life. With Nico screaming in his ear it's easy to forget that it's a race he technically never finished. Leo has the good sense to seek out a towel so they can dry off the collective sweat of the albiceleste and celebration beer off them. He throws them onto one of the freshly made beds, in particular Kun’s he notes, and grins at him. They look at each other like that, stupid grins cutting through the moment thick with awe and disbelief, and then Leo’s hand is curling into the back of his neck and pulling him in.

He feels overcome with a different kind of madness, where the enormity of what they have achieved for the briefest of seconds allows him to feel everything all at once; every up and every down, every moment of loss and euphoria they have weathered together right there at the seams of his lips that Leo is drinking in.

And still it overflows, desire wrapping around them, contentment within the warmth of Leo’s arms as they tumble backwards and onto the bed Leo caging him in.

Cariño

Leo whispers softly above him and it feels like coming full circle, looking up at Leo and having the intensity of that gaze trained on him, hearing the word for the first time said with a tinge of something shifting between them and those beginnings stretching out now to this moment, Leo’s hand sure on his hips, his face full of wrinkles they drew together.

Kun pulls Leo down to himself with a boldness he had to fake all those years ago, now filled with a desperation that almost rivals the quiet longing for Leo that had overflowed in the ecstasy of being young and swimming in a sea of possibility, of winning the Olympics together. Leo’s body sets him ablaze now as it did when he was shy and awkward but no less determined, kissing Kun with furrowed eyebrows and a blossoming devotion that had charmed him so thoroughly.

Leo pulls away from him slowly, rather regretfully, his body feels like it’s being peeled away from Kun’s like the opposing poles of magnets. Leo had pulled away from him then too, both of them hard and a desire crackling between them that could only be tempered by the desire to do this right. So they had stayed awake that night cuddled together, the axes of possibility running as strong between them as it did for their futures.

But today Leo has responsibilities, egos to juggle and reporters to satisfy and they could afford themselves this stolen moment together only because they had to, only because it felt like he was slowly buzzing out of his own body and could feel the same happen to Leo. Leo places a soft peck on Kun’s lips on his way out, the anticipation of later already building. Kun feels a bone deep satisfaction at watching him go. He feels again like that boy giddy in Leo’s embrace. He lets that boy see him as he is today with his graying beard and treacherous heart and feels that, perhaps, he did good by him.

#like genuinely i dont remember writing half of this fic #kunessi fanfic #nani writes

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levi-my-beloved · 3 years

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Blue Flowers, Red Silk (Part One)

Levi Ackerman Oneshot

Pairing: Modern!Levi x F!Reader

Summary: Your boss has you working down to the bone trying to strike a deal with a famous author to publish their new upcoming series. Levi hates seeing you so overworked, so when you finally have the evening to yourselves, he decides to show you how proud he is.

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: Reader’s boss being an asshole, oral (m receiving), light teasing, dacryphilia, just a WHOLE LOTTA FLUFF

A/N: this... this wasn’t even supposed to exist... part one was never supposed to happen there was only supposed to be one part.. pls blame @cant-spell-slay-without-lay for this part one fuken putting ideas in my head that i can’t get rid of :( (totally kidding ily bb :3)

yes i know i said the next writing upload will be BoaF chapter six pls forgive me ;^;

ANYWAY! there shall be a part two of what i originally planned, but this is almost pure fluff with some smut sprinkled in because i was feeling cosy. enjoy lovelies!

MINORS DNI 18+

“You know, I sometimes wish murder was legal.”

Well that certainly wasn’t how Levi expected to be greeted when you came through the door, soaking wet from the torrential rain outside. You stood there in the doorway of your flat, dripping on the doormat. Your sodden hair clinging to your forehead, acting like a raincloud as water fell from your now darkened locks. Levi poked his head from the kitchen archway, stifling a laugh as he took in your comically miserable state.

“You look like a drowned rat,”

“Oh, thanks very much!” you replied sarcastically, shaking out your broken umbrella deliberately over the freshly mopped floors, throwing him a sickly sweet smile as you did. Levi rolled his eyes at your petulance, coming to lean against the wall, cocking a brow in disdain as his arms folded over his chest.

“You’re cleaning that up,”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Have a shower first, you're soaking,” it was your turn to throw your eyes skyward, peeling off your dark, woolen coat to hang on the rack to dry. It was midwinter, and the weather forecast had predicted snowfall. You made a note to flip off the reporter the next time you saw their stupid face on the screen. Thankful you’d worn waterproof makeup today, you kicked your shoes off, feet soaking thanks to the open top heels of your dress code.

You loved your job, Production Manager for a rather large book publishing company, but currently your boss had decided you were a human punching bag, sending you email after email about the current deal you were trying to strike with an extremely well known author. It wasn’t exactly going smoothly, the stubborn bastard wanting 36% of all sales whilst you were trying to cut it down to, at most, 24%, which was still a shit ton. You understood Niles was stressed, but fo fuck sakes, you wish he’d cut you some slack.

A sigh escaped your lips as you watched Levi disappear into your utility room just as you started to peel off your top layer of waterlogged clothing, tossing it into the basket, leaving you in just your blouse and your underwear. You really need him right now. Just to hold you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. You really wanted to snuggle up in bed, caged in his secure arms, but you knew that wasn’t going to happen. Unfortunately, your work doesn’t stay at work. You had mountains of paperwork to get through. Book covers to approve, edits to look through, printing companies to email. Fuck, everything was just too much right now. It wasn’t that you were the bread-earner out of the two of you. You both had incredibly well paying jobs, but Levi had much less paperwork as a Pediatrician.

“Why do you wish murder was legal, hm?” you’d been too wrapped up in your mental rant to notice your fiancé return to you, a large bath towel bundled up under his arm. You glanced over your shoulder just as he draped the towel over your head and shoulders. The freshly laundered scent greeted your nose and you realised he must have put it in the tumble dryer especially for you before you got home.

“I don’t. Not really. Just my fucking boss giving me shit for something I can’t control. He knows full well I’m trying my fucking best to cut this deal. It isn’t even my fucking department! I’m doing him a goddamn favour,” you muttered spitefully as Levi gently guided you into his arms, letting you ramble about your day just to get it off your chest. He listened silently, offering occasional hums of agreement whilst softly caressing your arm with his thumb.

“And on top of everything else, it started fucking raining as I was walking home. The fucking weatherwoman said it was going to fucking snow and it fucking rained. Fuck.” Levi snorted a laugh as you pouted, knowing you were just complaining to add things to your list of things that made you miserable today.

“Well, maybe we can just have a quiet evening? Stick on a movie, maybe order a Chinese takeout or something? I can put the ratatouille in the fridge for tomorrow instead of having it tonight,” you hated having to say no. It was so rare Levi was willing to actually suggest something like this. Though you knew he loved those evenings just as much as you did, he often rolled his eyes and grumbled about not doing something ‘productive’ enough.

“I’m sorry Vi, I can’t. Niles has me working on this godforsaken deal round the clock, which means I have a huge backlog of work I need to catch up on,” Levi’s lips drew a thin line of annoyance as you shifted to look at him. He wasn’t annoyed at you. This wasn’t your fault.

Well, it was kind of your fault for offering to help, but he wouldn’t be mad at you for being you.

No, he was utterly livid at your boss. For the past few nights you’d gotten little to no sleep, staring at your bright laptop screen until the sun rose, trying your fucking best to slog through the swamp of work, wading through countless emails.

You felt guilty. It had been almost a week since you actually spent time with Levi. You hated knowing you always came home and almost immediately disappeared into your office, never to be seen until the next morning. He could sometimes hear your phone calls through the walls, listening to your tired, broken voice utter short sentences, presumably the only words you could get in through your boss's tyrades.

“Tch, don’t be sorry, idiot. ‘Not your fault,” Levi huffed, guiding your head back into his shoulder. If he could hold you tonight, he supposed he would just have to stand here with you in his arms for as long as he could. He missed you. Dearly. He missed hearing your soft breaths as you fell asleep, listening to your heartbeat. He missed your high pitched gasps and breathy whimpers as he slowly filled you, those desperate moans as his fingers circled your swollen clit. He missed making you scream his name as you reached your upteenth high, convulsing and shaking as his tongue continued to lap at your cunt, drinking in your essence. Ever since you two started dating, he’d had difficulty getting off by himself, becoming so used to your supple hands or scorching mouth massaging all the sensitive spots he wasn’t even aware he had, knowing how to pull long strings of groans and mewls from his throat. He missed your walls clamping around his cock to the point where he could hardly move, feeling you cream around his length, knowing it wouldn’t take much longer before he was spilling into your tight hole, pumping you full of his seed. Eyes crossed and head thrown back.

Fuck, he missed you.

“It’s almost over, I know it. We’re down to 29% of all sales now, so just a little more negotiating and that’ll be it, I promise. I mean, with any luck, this shit will be dealt with by tomorrow afternoon,” you murmured tiredly against his neck. Levi nodded, glad you were blissfully unaware of his filthy train of thought. He knew you wouldn’t mind him thinking about you in such a lewd manner, but he hated the thought of making you feel guilty for not helping his sexual frustration. Well, more guilty than you already felt. He sighed through his nose, planting a kiss on your toweled head.

“C’mon you, let’s eat something. Relax for a bit before having to start on your work again. Oh, your blankets are in the dryer as well.”

“Marry me.”

“I already am, beautiful.”

“Marry me faster,” you swore you felt the clinging cold dissipate as he laughed against your head, the sound instantly warming you heart and soul as he spun you in his arms, steering you back into the kitchen to remove the dish currently keeping warm in the oven.

“Oh? Next month's too far away?” he teasingly asked, letting go of you only to pull his pair of black oven gloves over his hands. You nodded, hopping up to sit on the counter, the warm towel falling to sit around your shoulders. “When would you prefer?” he asked, going along with the topic of conversation with a slight smile.

“Mmmmm… tomorrow.” Levi looked at you from where he’d crouched to the oven door, a brow raised in mock intrigue. He turned his attention briefly back to the vegetable meal, dragging it from the heated confines and placing it on the stovetop.

“Tomorrow? Not sure what your father would say about that,” he replied, hanging the gloves back on the oven door handle, leaving the ratatouille to cool for a bit as he made his way back over to you, chuckling away on the countertop.

“Oh please, I changed his mind about you, didn’t I?”

“Pretty sure I did that on my own,” Levi smirked at your feigned offended scoff. But it was true. Your fiancé and your father really didn’t get along to start with. Having been from two entirely different backgrounds, their values often collided. It wasn’t until the subject of you came up in conversation one long family dinner did they finally see eye to eye. You’d left to help your mother put your baby sister to sleep, leaving your fiancé and your father at the table. You’d half expected to come back to the dining room in utter anarchy. You definitely didn’t expect them to be sharing a toast in your name.

It almost brought a tear to your eye.

“You certainly did,” your beaming grin turned soft at the man standing between your thighs, currently holding his palm against the side of your face. “(Y/N) Ackerman. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?” Levi didn’t think he’d heard anything sound so sweet, so perfect in his life. His heart swelled with adoration as he traced your eyebrow with his thumb.

“It certainly does, sweetheart,” He tilted your head up, closing the miniscule distance between you, his lips easily grazing against yours in a teasing kiss. Levi chuckled softly as you immediately grew pouty at the ghost-like touch, before snaking your hands up his shirt clad chest to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into your passionate embrace. Your lips melded against each other, finding a slow yet heated rhythm. Fuck you had missed him just as much as he’d missed you. A small whine bled from your chest as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, teeth gently sinking into the soft flesh. You gladly opened your mouth, appreciating his own soft growl as your tongues began to dance a hot tango, both fighting for dominance.

Levi trailed his hands down your front, palms briefly massaging your clothed breasts before tickling your waist and finally settling on your hips. He squeezed your upper thigh, pulling you further towards the edge of the counter and encouraging you to wrap your legs around his hips. The mixed sensation of his growing length grinding against your dampening cunt, and your fingers threading through his hair, nails scratching his undercut drew a low groan from the back of his throat, his chest inflating as you tensed your calves, deliberately rolling your hips into him. You were driving him absolutely wild.

“How long before the ratatouille is ready to eat?” you whispered breathlessly, before his lips crashed against yours, as if he would suffocate without feeling you in his mouth.

“Ready now– f-fuck...” he could only manage short sentences, his hips bucking involuntarily into yours, his nails digging crescents into the flesh of your bare thighs as he found a rhythm that matched the battle of your tongues.

“Okay, new question, how- mmph– how long before it– get’s cold?” you asked between increasingly feverish presses of his lips. You understood why. You’d both gone from fucking regularly to not at all in a very short amount of time, the fierce tension in the room now taut enough to snap completely. You were just as frustrated as he was, finding yourself dripping at the mere thought of his hard, leaking cock. The image made you grind your hips mercilessly, fingers roaming down his navel to his belt, nimbly fiddling with the buckle. Your breath hitched at the prominent outline of his erect length pressed against his slacks, shivering as he pulled back to breathe a needy whine into your ear.

“Six minutes maybe,” Levi panted, gritting his teeth to stop himself from cursing as his belt snapped from around his waist. He reluctantly stepped back when you gently pushed against his chest, giving you room to hop down off the countertop. His question was caught in his throat as you spun him around, pushing him back against the counter you were just seated on.

“Perfect… gives me time to suck your dick,” your grin was borderline feral as you briefly latched onto his neck to suck a deep bruise against his pulse point, as well as a high-pitched mewl from his throat, before sinking to your knees in front of him. You didn’t have time to slowly rid him of his shirt, unravel his composure bit by bit. You want to feel his pulsing length against your tongue, want to listen to his carnal cries as you brutally milk him dry.

The metallic tang of his zipper spread across your taste buds as you dragged it down, dropping his slack to pool around his ankles, borderline drooling at the sight of his tented crotch. You leaned forward, sucking against the darkened patch where his precum had dampened his briefs.

Levi’s hands flew to the countertop behind him in order to steady himself, mind reeling at the torment you were delivering with your mouth. He didn’t realise just how sensitive he would be, whimpering and groaning uncontrollably before you’d even properly touched his leaking dick.

“P-please (Y/N). N-need your m-mouth b-baby, please,” he begged, stuttering through his pleading as you finally freed his throbbing length from the cloth prison. You smirked as his cock bobbed slightly, flushed a deep crimson and and just aching to be touched.

But, you had a whole six minutes. Given how needy he was, you had three minutes to tease him, confident you’d have him cumming down your throat in the remaining three. Just as Levi thought you were going to be merciful on him, you dodged his erection, opting to flutter kisses against the inside of his thighs. His pitiful whine almost made you feel sorry for him as you sank your teeth into the supple flesh, decorating his inner thigh with the most beautiful hickeys, specks of red flecking to the surface of his skin as you smoothed your tongue over the small hurts.

Moving to his other thigh, you threw him a devilish simper when your hot breath against his tip caused his whole body to tense, which gave you an idea.

“Undo your shirt for me. I like watching your body respond to my touch,” you voice was husky, full of a domineering presence Levi hadn’t heard in far too long. Fuck he loved your dominant side, possibly more than when you’re all submissive for him. Then again… the image of you on your back, tears sliding from the corner of your eyes as he fucked you into oblivion, a vibe buzzing against your clit has to be one of the Wonders of the World. Screw the Temple of Artemis. Your body was the only temple he fucking cared about.

He made a hazy mental note to use that cheesy pickup line on you later, knowing how much you loved them before all thought was wiped from his mind as you delivered yet another sucking kiss to his inner thigh. He somehow remembered he was supposed to be unbuttoning his shirt, hands trembling as he popped open the fabric, exposing his sculpted chest to you.

“Hmm, good boy,” Levi keened at the praise, knuckles draining white as he held the countertop edge in a deathgrip. You were surprised the marble didn’t crumble in his fist as you looked up at him through your dark lashes. But your attention on his gorgeous hands was brief, caught again by the precum now seeping freely from his slit. Deciding he’s waited long enough, you poked your tongue out between your lips, delivering small kitten licks to the bulging head of his cock.

“Hng– sh-shit…!” he exhaled, before inhaling sharply as the tip of your tongue circled the tip of his dick. You were curious to see if you could get him off with such small movements, but you really wanted to reward him for being so patient with you. Levi’s stuttering wail was well worth the wait as your hand fisted his shaft, slowly pumping along his length, your tongue still lapping at the precum gathering at his tip.

“Ah-ahh– haah, f-fucking– shit!” you giggled at his string of profanities as your lips puckered around his head, gently sucking gently against the raging organ. Levi’s hips bucked into your mouth, whining profusely at the electric sensation frying his brain, becoming nothing but the network of nerves between his thighs. Your hands gripped his bruised thighs, sending delicious bolts of pained pleasure through his system as your thumbs pressed against those purple blossoms. Your tongue swept the slick bleeding from his slit, smearing it all over your taste buds and his dick.

If Levi could form a coherent thought, he would have acknowledged how fucking hot you looked right now. Blouse hanging off your shoulder, brows furrowed in concentration as you vigorously made out with his cock. It wasn’t until your eyes slid up to meet his lidded orbs did he realise he was staring, but he couldn’t look away. That was until you engulfed half his length into your mouth, fist gripping the base of his cock tightly as your tongue flicked against the vein along the underside of his shaft.

“(Y/N)! F-fuck baby– nngh, y-yes oh fuck oh fuckohfuck… A-HAAH!” Levi threw his head back, his hand fisting his own hair through his desperate sobs. You watched his chest rise and fall rapidly, his abs contracting and relaxing with each bob of your head. You pulled back a little to flick your tongue against his frenulum, squeezing the base of his shaft again. Levi knew exactly what you were doing to prevent him from releasing too early, but couldn’t deny he was loving every moment of this torturous euphoria.

Your other, currently unused hand began massaging circles against his hip, encouraging him to relax his muscles. You stilled on his cock, thumb mirroring your other as you began the same treatment against his length, pulling off his mouth to allow him to recover for a second.

“The ratatouille’s going to get cold,” you mused, admiring the way his tip glistened with a mixture of your saliva and his slick.

“I don’t care,” he hissed through his teeth, his head dropping back down to look at you with blown pupils. “Thank you. For this. I really needed it,” your heart warmed at the sincerity, knowing Levi always found admitting these things rather difficult. You rewarded his efforts with a rough jerk of his length, watching his mouth fall open in pleasure.

“I know, and you’re very welcome,” Levi noted the mischievous innocence in your eyes, but before he had time to question it, you removed your hand from his cock and swallowed him down your throat.

“NNGH– AA-HA-AH, sh-shit your mouth feels so– HNNG, MMN– so FUCKING good... !” you gripped his hips to stop them from writhing, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you fought your gag reflex, nose pressed up against the well kept, coarse patch of hair on his naval. You held him in your throat, your own arousal dripping down your thighs as he squirmed in delicious ecstasy, hands now tangled in your locks to ground himself. You swallowed again, moaning around his length as his thighs trembled at the feeling of your vibrating throat closing around his tip, admiring the way his face scrunched in lascivious bliss.

“Please baby…! F-fuck you’re s-so good at this. C-can’t get there without you. Need your– aah– ‘need your touch baby, p-please,” it had been far too long since you’d heard him beg like this and fuck you could cum just listening to him. Your clit throbbed with each choked sob, looking up through wet lashes only to see tears of bliss gathering at the corners of his own eyes. There was nothing hotter than Levi when he was vocal. Whether he was growling against your ear, whimpering beneath you or sobbing into your mouth, there was something so thrilling about him completely losing, or willingly giving up, his control. You swore his voice was some sort of aphrodisiac.

Your desire to listen to him completely fall apart prompted you to move, hollowing your cheeks as you began to bob up and down on his cock in earnest. The various sounds of you sucking and gagging sloppily on his dick pierced the air around you, intertwining with the downright pornographic moans of your fiancé dancing in the air around you.

“I-I’m so– haah– so close baby…! Fuck, shitohshitohfuckohshit FUCK… haah– haah– haah– d-don’t… don’t stop… ‘m so– SO fuck-ing close... !” Levi’s mind reeled as he rocketed towards his high, unable to stop his hips from rhythmically thrusting down your throat. Stars began to flicker in his vision, the shattering pleasure of your mouth pushing him ever higher into Elysium. “Gonna– gonna cum…! Fu– nnghaah– g-gonna fucking cum… p-please baby– AA-HAAH– please– please– please– o-oh fu-uck (Y/N)...!” Levi was metaphorically on his knees, begging for you to let him cum in down your throat. Shoving his hips back against the cupboards behind him, you held him there as you sucked long and hard against his cock, hand coming round to rapidly play with his balls.

It was all Levi needed to find his release.

“FuckfuckFUCK A-HAAAH-AH FUCK (Y/N)!”

Hips stuttering against your hold, you looked up to watch his orgasm course through his nerves, spreading like wildfire throughout his body. His eyes crossed, rolling up into his skull as he threw his head back, mouth held open in a silent roar as ropes and ropes of white seed painted the back of your throat.

A long, satisfied whine slipped past his lips through gasps for breath. His thighs shook, the muscles in his torso tensing as you continued to milk him, tears leaking from his eyes as euphoria clouded his mind, unable to feel nothing but your tongue continuing to lap up his seed.

You slowed the ministrations of your mouth, breathless pants and needy moans of your name dragged from his throat, hips still bucking with the aftershocks of his high into your heated cavern. Another swallow pulled another high-pitched, overstimulated whimper from the man above you, cleaning up his mess before you pulled off his length, lips frosted with his cum.

“Better?” you teased, grinning with pride up at your fiancé. It had taken a little longer than three minutes, but mainly because you wanted to drag it out. He’d been so good to you recently, you didn’t want to just suck him off and be done with it. You wanted to take your time.

Levi cracked open an eye, and he was sure he could cum again at the sight of your slick coated chin. A lazy, tired smile pulled at his lips as he slowly removed his hands from your hair to gently tilt your head up from your jaw.

“Much,” was all he could manage to respond as you tenderly tucked him back into his pants and slacks. He gently swiped his thumb across your swollen lips, pulling you into a tender kiss as you rose back up to your feet, tasting himself on your tongue. “You didn’t cum,” he murmured in concern, hands on your shoulders to pull you back a little, gazing into your (E/C) irises. But your reassuring smile put him at ease.

“I’m saving myself for when you can fuck me properly,” Levi chuckled at your blunt, cheeky response, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes contently. He couldn’t fucking wait to marry you.

“C’mon. Let’s finally have dinner.”

“I’ve had mine.” you grinned impishly, turning away from him, only to be pulled back into his arms, his nose nuzzling into your neck.

“Don’t give me that, I worked hard on this.”

“Yeah? Well I worked hard on that.” you bucked your hips back against him, earning yourself a playful nip at your shoulder.

“You’re appalling,” Levi smirked as you both crossed the kitchen to the now lukewarm ratatouille sitting, foregotton on the stovetop.

“It’ll need reheating in the microwave,” you helpfully observed, watching the ravenette’s expression fall into contemplation.

“Can’t. It’ll just dry out,” he responded flatly.

“There’s a sauce with it, Ramsey,” you jabbed teasingly, holding his arms against you as he gently squeezed your waist, securing you to his front.

“It’ll suck the moisture out of the courgettes.”

“I know how it feels.”

Levi snorted in amusement. He loved your sense of humour, matching so well with his own. A perfect blend of witty quips and sarcastic comments.

“Be serious,” he chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You salted the courgettes beforehand though, right?” you raised a brow, looking at his side profile through the corner of your eye.

“Tch, obviously,” you rolled your eyes at his tone, turning your head to give him a flat stare.

“Soooo… there’s no moisture in them anyway,” the weight of your observation came in the form of a heavy silence. You couldn’t help the smug smirk that pulled at your lips, Levi refusing to meet your glinting eye.

“Shut up smartass, I can’t think right now,” you snickered, removing your hands from his arm to pick up the dish you’d both been scrutinising for the last sixty seconds. Levi clung to you like a limpet as you slid the dish into the microwave, setting the timer for two minutes. You assumed some heat would still be retained as you rested your head against his on your shoulder, the low hum of the microwave filling the comfortable silence.

“Blue flowers,” you randomly stated, after what felt like years of the two of you standing in your kitchen watching the dish slowly spinning behind the tinted microwave door.

“Hmm?”

“Blue flowers. At the wedding. We need blue flowers,” you raised your head off of his, allowing him to look at you with that handsomely quizzical expression.

“Any particular reason?” he asked, tone softening along with the topic of conversation. The thought of your wedding day next month always made him gooey. The day where he’d finally be able to call you his. You owned every part of each other already, but it would be official next month. Levi shifted himself so he was no longer against your back, but rather pulling you into his chest, cradling your face in his hands.

“Because they’ll highlight the blue in your eyes,” you responded as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, before continuing with your train of thought. “I can have a bouquet of Delphiniums and Irises or something. Ooo! Maybe you could have a Blue Orchid on your jacket, since, you know, that’s your favourite flower! And we could have an arch of Hydrangeas and–” Levi cut you off by gently capturing you in a deep, loving kiss. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you all but melted into those arms encasing you to his body.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” you giggled at his question, peering at him through star-struck eyes.

“Once or twice,” you mused with a smile, swaying slightly in his arms.

“I love you, (Y/N), and I cannot wait for the day I say I do,” slivers of silver lined your lashes at his heartfelt words, your smile broadening into a teary-eyed beam.

“Tomorrow, right?” you called back to your earlier joke, diamonds of pure serenity trailblazing down your cheeks as you regarded your husband-to-be, eyes flitting over his carved features. Levi brought you into a tight hug, tucking your head under his chin and against his neck, your breaths fluttering against his skin. Warmth spread within his chest from the simple comfort of feeling you close to him. But you both knew this moment couldn’t last forever, despite how much you wanted it to. So when the harsh beeps of the microwave shattered the moment, you sighed heavily, knowing this was probably the last time you’d see him until tomorrow night. The heavy weight of work lay upon your mind as you stepped out of his embrace, offering him a sad smile that broke his heart.

“Hey, once you’ve managed to strike this deal and it’s all over, how about we go out for dinner? I had a quick look at the menu for that new Turkish restaurant downtown on my way home. It looked pretty good, and maybe we could celebrate?” Levi raised a brow to you as you removed your food from the microwave, turning to look at him with an excited gleam in your eye. Once again, Levi suggesting such a thing was usually saved for special occasions and it made you smile to no end.

You nodded your head eagerly, hair falling in front of your eyes. You made a mental note to quickly wash it before you settled down in front of your desk this evening.

“Something to look forward to,” you sighed in relief, setting the dish on the countertop as your fiancé placed two plates next to it before delivering a gentle kiss to the back of your head as he passed to set the cutlery on the table. You set your elbows on the breakfast bar, leaning your chin on the heel of your palm, a soft smile playing on your lips as you watched him, admiring how even the smallest, most basic things make your heart sing.

“What?” you hadn’t noticed him looking back to you over his shoulder, half way through setting down a fork.

“Nothing. I just love how domestic you look,” you giggled, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. You’d been living together for the best part of four years now, and you still couldn’t get over how handsome he looked when doing the most menial of tasks. Levi rolled his eyes, hiding his amusement by continuing to set the table.

“Tch, you should be used to it by now, we’ve been living together for the last four years,” he responded dryly, smoothing down the tablecloth before crossing back over to you, leaning over the other side of the breakfast bar, mirroring your stance so his face was inches from yours.

“I think you mean three years, ten months, twenty seven days, ten hours and…” –you looked at the leather strap watch on your wrist, suspending the moment until the little minute hand ticked over the twelve– “forty-two minutes,” you grinned as Levi raised his brow.

“You made that last bit up,” it was your turn to mirror him, cocking a brow of intrigue as you purse your lips to avoid breaking your façade.

“Oh? You know that for a fact do you?” you asked, voice laced with high pitched cockiness as you started dividing up the ratatouille into meal portions. The tomato aroma caused your stomach to rumble as you did your best to keep your attention on the food and not on Levi’s face. Which was always difficult.

“(Y/N), you hardly remember to eat lunch…” he didn’t need to finish his sentence, knowing you’d already finished it in your head for him by the roll of your eyes.

“That was literally one time, let it go man,” you teased, handing him both plates to set on the table before crossing to put the dish back in the fridge. You’d section out the portions into tupperware later, perfect for your lunches.

“It was three times,” Levi muttered, sitting at the table to wait for you. You looked so cute, still dressed in nothing but a blouse and underwear, toned thighs flexing as you walked, soft skin so perfect for suckling sweet little lavender blossoms onto.

“I’ll start charging rent if your eyes linger any longer,” Levi blinked, not realising he’d done exactly what you were doing earlier, getting completely lost in how much he fucking loved you by just looking at you. You leaned against the wall, arms folded across your chest, your mouth pulled in a sly smirk.

“Let me stay for free, I'm your fiancé,” you chuckled at his pout, swaying your hips a little to deliberately draw his attention back.

“Maybe if you’re nice to me,”

“I’m always nice to you.”

“Levi Ackerman you are such a liar!”

“Okay, name five times when I haven’t been nice to you.”

“You know, most people would ask me to name one.”

“That’s too easy, I’m trying to challenge you.”

“Too easy because you’re mean to me all the time?”

“Tch, no.”

“Okay fine, you called me a rat when I walked in.”

“That wasn’t me being mean, that was me making an observation.”

The conversation continued along a similar line, teasing each other back and forth between mouthfuls of food. You adored the way you were one of the only people who Levi would relax with. You knew he wasn’t immune to you, and couldn’t always mask his emotions when you were around. You especially loved that little smirk he had whenever he made another teasing comment that had you feigning disbelief, gasping theatrically in your chair.

Another moment you wanted to last forever, but you knew it couldn’t. You felt your heart break just a little as you started to clean up, before Levi took the dirty plates from your hands with a small peck to your forehead.

“Go shower, I’ll clean up and make tea,” he muttered against your skin, looking down to meet your grateful eyes. You wish you could convey just how much these small gestures meant to you, but you found yourself overwhelmed.

“Thank you,” – you whispered, turning to head to your bathroom– “I love you!” Levi chuckled to himself as you called back to him.

“Love you too, brat,” he muttered, before a seed of an idea planted in his head. You’ve been working ridiculously hard lately. It was definitely time he showed you just how proud he was.

Basic cleaning never took that long for him. Usually he’d spend a little more time disinfecting the table, or scrubbing the plates until his own reflection shined back at him. But he was excited. Too excited to deep clean right now. As soon as he’d pressed Start on the dishwasher he almost ran to his laptop, punching in the password before the screen highlighted his face.

There were a few online stores you two had purchased toys from, and he wasn’t ashamed to say he had them bookmarked. His eyes adjusted from the lighter coloured glare of his search engine, to the darker themes of this specific website. Before he’d even chosen anything, he’d already ticked next-day delivery, remembering how you’d said this whole deal thing might be over by tomorrow evening. If he could book a table at that restaurant and bring a little gift with him, then tomorrow would be perfect.

Levi’s excitement continued to simmer, so much so that he almost accidentally ignored you as you came out of the shower, dressed in the comfiest clothes you could find in preparation for the long night, the garments consisting of his own hoodie and a pair of his joggers. You regarded him with a suspicious eye, clearly noting his subtle change of demeanor.

“So suspicious,” you muttered with a grin, before disappearing into your office for the night.

Levi didn’t know if he could stop himself. Not that he wanted to. He didn’t care if this was about to empty his bank account. He was so fucking proud of you, and he wanted to show it. He ended up buying seven different items, adding up to an amount he’d rather not look at if he was being honest. You deserved it though. You deserved the world.

And Levi would be damned if he had to wait for his wedding day to give it to you.

237 notes · View notes

master-sass-blast · 2 years

Text

Couples that Game Together, Stay Together.

Summary: It's a dreary, drizzly, early Spring Saturday. One best spent inside. To pass the time, you and Piotr spend your time playing video games.

That's it. Just some pure grade fluff for your weekend. You're welcome.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader.

Rating: T for strip Wii Sports, nudity, and a suggestive cutaway at the end.

Word Count: 3.7k.

Set after "It's Truly Magical" and before "The Long Awaited Arrival."

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @sadstonewrites

Update Time: I am finally on the roster to get some physical therapy. Hopefully, the center my doctor's referring me to will contact me in the next few weeks, and I'll be able to get started on proper recovery.

However, I'm not working on my shoulder. I can manage/limp my shoulder along with chiropractic treatment, heat, stretching, and rest. In the past month, however, I realized that my chronic, searing, life long back pain is Not Normal and Not A Normal Human Experience (which my parents and I think dates back to the second grade, when I fell out of a hayloft). My back pain is legitimately wrecking my mobility, ability to exercise, ability to sit in fucking chairs (I can sit in only one literal actual chair without being in immense pain, I shit you not). So yeah.

Updates will still probably be slow. But my shoulder can wait. My back can't. I need to have a fucking life.

Thank you all for your patience, understanding, and continued support. It means more than you'll ever know.

I hope you're all doing well and staying safe.

It’s a rainy, early spring Saturday. Snow is still on the ground in patches, mixing with the rain and the exposed earth beneath to create gray, muddy slush. Oppressive, slate-gray clouds blanket the sky, blotting out any possibility of seeing the sun. Even the birds –whom you’d just started hearing again over the past couple days—are nowhere to be seen, likely hunkering down and staying dry.

In short, it’s a dull, dreary day, best spent inside where it’s warm and dry.

You pull a face as you stare out the kitchen window. Yuck. You take a sip from your morning coffee, then look up at Piotr when he ambles up behind you and puts an arm around your shoulder. “Wanna have a video game marathon today?”

Piotr takes one look at the weather, pulls the same disgusted face that you did, and shrugs. “Sure.”

***

After breakfast and doing some minimal hygiene –because Piotr, the most adult-y adult to have ever adulted, insists on keeping some semblance of routine—the two of you hunker down in the family room while debating over which games to play.

“Nyet,” Piotr groans when you hold up Mario Kart for the Wii. “Game is impossible. And you only play because you always win!”

“It’s fun!” you defend yourself –even though he’s not wrong. “What if I promise to go easy on you?”

Piotr snorts and shakes his head. “You would not.”

“Eh, you’re probably right.” You giggle when he rolls his eyes playfully, then pull out the puppy dog eyes and pout at your husband. “Please, baby? Pretty please? It’s so much fun when we play together, and it makes me feel so happy and like you love me…”

Piotr relents with a resigned sigh. “Khorosho. But only for little bit. I am not playing for entire day.”

“Fair enough!” You spring into his lap, peppering his face with kisses. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Piotr laughs and hugs you close before patting your thigh. “Alright. Time to begin my massacre.”

***

As per your husband’s predictions, Mario Kart ends only in his slaughter.

Part of it is due to you playing more than him; practice makes perfect, experience is everything, blah blah –that, and you’ve played extensively with Ellie, which has only honed your Mario Kart skills to a scary, probably unfair degree.

(Not that you’ve been able to beat Ellie. The only person who’s managed to do that is Yukio.)

You lap Piotr through several rounds, laughing and mercilessly flinging shells, banana peels, and bombs his way.

The other part of it is due to Piotr’s size –so he claims, anyway. According to him, his hands are too big for the controller, which makes it hard to stay on the track, use items, navigate in general…

“That’s too bad,” you say, feigning sympathy. You cackle when you lap Piotr for the umpteenth time, then fire a red shell straight back at him. “Get good, scrub!”

And then, in the next round, a miracle happens.

Piotr draws nothing but blue shells from the item boxes.

“What the fuck!” you exclaim when Piotr sabotages you for the third time in the first lap. “You dick! Knock it off!”

“‘Get good, scrubs!’” Piotr giggles as his character whizzes past yours.

It’s a nail-biter of a race. Thanks to your skill and ability to stay on the race track, you manage to reclaim your –rightful—spot in first –only for Piotr to get another blue shell and launch it at you.

“This is fucking bullshit,” you grumble as you chase after your husband. “You can’t even drive in a straight line! You don’t deserve to win!”

Piotr merely giggles again –then yelps when you fire three red shells into his side and pass him. “Hey! Get back here!”

“Absolutely not.” You dart and weave along the course, fending off Piotr’s attacks left and right. “You stay away from me –bad touch, bad touch! Stranger danger! Leave me alone!”

Piotr laughs –then lets out a diabolical giggle. “Myshka…”

“No. No!” You let out a howl of dismay when you see the warning for the blue shell flash on your part of the screen. “No! I’m almost at the end! Come on, come on, make it –fucking dammit!”

Piotr whizzes past you, cackling with glee as he claims first place. “Ya vyigral! Pobeda! Spravedlivost'!”

“Fucking bullshit.” You click to move to the next race, then flip through the options until you find Rainbow Road. “Get fucked, dickhead.”

Piotr’s laughter dies. “Nyet –I cannot—”

“Yeah, I know, you’ve never finished one lap around this one because you keep falling off.” You click to start the race, then stick your tongue out at him. “See what happens when you blue shell me?”

Piotr groans, slumping back on the couch. “I think is better if I just… do not race at all.”

You tip your head back and laugh.

***

After your Rainbow Road stunt, Piotr declares a boycott on Mario Kart.

“Something I can play, please,” he begs while you sort through your stash of games once more. “Something that does not give me motion sickness.”

You flip through game cases, trying to find something that your husband will willingly play –and then you perk up and give Piotr a hopeful look. “Fall Guys?”

He groans. “I said ‘something I can play.’”

“You’re great at Fall Guys!”

Piotr arches one eyebrow at you. “I have not won once.”

“Okay, but you consistently get to the third or fourth rounds,” you argue. “You just keep getting dicked on team games. That has nothing to do with your ability.” You scamper over to the couch and straddle Piotr’s lap when he rolls his eyes. “Baby, how about this? I—” you gesture to yourself “—will be your guide. Your personal bodyguard. I will make sure you get to the final round –and, if at any point, it comes down to you or me, I will sacrifice myself for you. Come on, baby,” you coax, giving your husband your most winning smile. “Let’s get you a win!”

Piotr sighs, then relents with a smile. “Alright. Let’s give a try.”

You whoop, then hop off his lap so you can power up the Playstation console.

***

Trying to get Piotr to a finale round feels akin to Sisyphus pushing the damned boulder up the hill.

It’s not that he’s bad at the game; honestly, if anything, he’s pretty damn good at it, considering he’s more patient and less impulsive than you are.

No, the problem is everyone else you’re playing with.

“You fucking pigeon!” you shriek as you watch Piotr’s progress on Slime Climb (you’d already qualified, so now you’re watching your husband while giving out pointers). “Get off the twinkies! Leave my baby alone, you dick!”

Piotr inhales sharply while trying to keep his balance. “Let… go of me… please.”

“You’re going to have to push him off,” you say as you eye the encroaching Pepto-Bismol colored slime. “Otherwise you’re toast.”

“Konechno. And how do I do this?”

“Use the right index trigger button to grab them,” you explain, paraphrasing the details for the sake of your husband’s understanding. “Okay, good. Now push forward on the left thumbstick and release that right trigger button.”

Piotr does as you instruct –and sends the pigeon sailing into the deathly slime.

“Yes! Good job, baby! Alright, get out of there. You’re the last person left, so all you have to do is clear the rest of the obstacles without falling into the slime.”

“Da,” Piotr grumbles as he mashes the controller buttons to navigate his character around the course. “So easy to do. So simple. So very easy.”

“You got this.” You grin as he clears the “Wipe Out” style “pushy blocks,” the spinning hammers, and the doughnut towers that track back and forth. “Alright, baby, nice and easy. Just take your time and you’ll get past the wrecking balls no problem.”

Piotr sticks the tip of his tongue out as he concentrates, taking only a few steps at a time as he slips past each of the brightly colored “wrecking balls”—

And then he’s over the finish line.

“Awesome!” You high five your husband, then pick your controller back up. “Ready for the next round?”

“I think I am ready for new shirt,” Piotr laughs as he uses the fabric of his shirt to fan himself. “I sweat so much.”

You chuckle –then gasp when you see the next round is Egg Scramble. “Ooh, okay. Easy win here. We’re gonna grab as many eggs as we can until the middle’s basically empty, and then we’re going to dick over the team with the least amount of eggs. Got it?”

“That does not seem fair,” Piotr comments, frowning.

“It’s the name of the game, baby.” You pat his arm. “Stick with me, okay? Do whatever I tell you to.”

“This sounds familiar,” Piotr remarks with a teasing smile.

You stick your tongue out at him –and then the round cues up.

Your two’s team –Red—manages to rake in a decent amount of eggs at the start, enough to put you comfortably at first.

“Alright, Blue’s in butt last,” you remark. “Let’s go ruin their days.”

“This feels wrong,” Piotr groans as he follows you over to Blue’s “nest.”

“Yes, but winning is going to feel so right,” you assure him before gasping. “Gold egg! Get that gold egg! The one that looks like it’s been dipped in butter. Yes –yes, baby! Get that egg!” you cheer as Piotr bounces towards the golden egg. “It’s worth five points!”

“I have it!” Piotr whoops when he picks up the golden egg. “What now?”

“Now, we haul ass. Okay, this egg? It’s your baby. You hold onto this egg for dear life,” you instruct Piotr as both of you hop out of Blue’s “nest.” “All you do is get this egg back to our area, and then you hold onto it for the rest of the game like it’s your own child.”

“Khorosho –uh oh. I see Yellows.”

“You run, baby,” you exclaim dramatically. “I will shield you with my body –you fucking hotdog bitch!” You grab a Yellow player in a gold hotdog costume, holding them back when they try to grab Piotr. “Go, honey, go! Get our child to safety!”

“Everyone is in our ‘nest!’” Piotr cries when he hops in.

“It’s okay, we’ve got a lot of our members in here, too. Just keep holding onto that egg!” You let go of the hotdog and charge after him so you can play defense. “We’re still in the lead; all we need to do is survive.”

The clock runs down –and, by the end of it, Red is still in the lead and Blue has a grand total of three points to their name.

You let out a whoop, then lean over and kiss Piotr’s cheek. “Great job, baby!”

He lets out a pleased, soft giggle –then frowns when he sees the next game is Tip Toe. “Oh no.”

“Don’t worry, honey. Just stay with me; I’ll protect you from the assholes.”

The two of you make it through Tip Toe without too many issues —and then you’re at the finale: Fall Mountain.

“Okay, we’re in the front. Good.” You squeeze Piotr’s shoulder reassuringly (and then take a second squeeze to feel up-slash-admire the immense amount of thick muscle he’s got). “All you need to do is get to the top.”

Piotr grimaces. “Easier said than done.”

“You can do this, baby. I’ll hold anyone back that tries to get ahead of you.” You press a hurried kiss against his cheek, then snatch up your controller as the round starts. “You got this.”

Miraculously, the two of you manage to make it up a majority of the mountain without too much trouble. You both send your characters bobbing and weaving to avoid the various flying balls (heh) and the spinning hammers. By the time you pass the second hammer before the crown, it’s just you, Piotr, and a character in the French fries costume.

“I’m grabbing the spuds!” you declare as you dive for the third player. You grab them and hold them back, letting Piotr’s character dart ahead. “Go, baby! Wait for the crown to lower, then jump for it and grab on!”

Piotr’s character scales the final ramp, then jumps—

And the “Game Over” banner flashes across the screen.

“Did you do it? You did it!” You whoop and hop off the couch, doing a victory lap while Piotr’s character does a victory dance on screen. “Holy shit, babe! That was awesome!”

Piotr chuckles, leaning back against the couch. “Spasibo, myshka.”

You bound up behind him and loop your arms around his neck. You kiss his cheek. “How does it feel?”

“Pretty good,” he admits as he turns his head to kiss you properly. “Shall we have lunch?”

“Lunch sounds good,” you agree before kissing him again.

***

After lunch, you let Piotr choose the next game the two of you play. And, like the old man he is, he chooses the basic Wii Sports collection.

You groan and let yourself slide off the couch and onto the floor. “What is it with you and picking the most basic, boring option we have?”

“Is nice!” Piotr defends himself. “Is simple, and peaceful—”

“And basic, and boring, and did I mention boring?” you fire back –though you’re mostly teasing. Mostly. You pick up the cardstock sleeve the game comes in, sticking your nose up as you scan the list of games proffered on the back. “I mean –who in their right mind wants to play golf!”

Piotr crosses his arms over his chest and smirks down at you. “You said I could pick. This is my choice. Besides, you are just complaining because you always lose.”

“That is entirely beside the point,” you argue, flapping your hand dismissively. “And I’m not wrong, at any rate. If we’re playing basic bitch games, we need to raise the stakes.”

“Mhm,” Piotr hums, largely humoring you while he slides the game disk into the Wii console. “And how do you propose we do this, myshka?”

“Strip Wii Sports.” You waggle your eyebrows when your husband chokes and shoots you a scandalized look. “Loser of each round has to take off an article of clothing. First person totally naked loses outright.”

Piotr’s lips quirk into a lusty grin –though his cheeks are still flushed a deep shade of red. “Interesting proposition.” He clears his throat, then raises his eyebrows at you. “And… afterwards?”

“I think we’ll just have to see where the mood takes us,” you reply. You wink at him, then hold out your hand. “Have we reached a consensus, Mr. Rasputin?”

Piotr chuckles and shakes your hand. “I believe we have, Mrs. Rasputin.”

***

Your husband, being the gentleman he is, lets you pick which game you play first.

You, being the competitive jackass you are, pick bowling.

“I should have known,” Piotr laughs when you set your Mii’s controls. “I should have known you would hamstring me from start.”

“All’s fair in love and war.” You bat your eyelashes at him while he sets the controls for his character. “You can just strip down now, if you want.”

Piotr snorts and shakes his head. “Not going to happen, myshka.”

Predictably, the round of bowling ends with a landslide in your favor. Frankly, it’s miraculous that Piotr made it into double digits on the scoreboard.

You mime dusting off your hands while the end credits of the game play out. “Alright, that’s one for me. You can just quit now, if you want.”

Piotr smirks and shakes his head –then strips out of his shirt.

Your mouth runs dry at the sight of all his thick, chiseled musculature. Your gaze rakes over his torso, ogling his beefy pecs, the definition and vascularity on his arms and hands, the sharp line of his obliques—

“One item of clothing removed per stroke over par.”

You blink as your husband’s voice jolts you out of your horny reverie –then let out an indignant squawk when his meaning sets in. “What? Are you shitting me!”

“All is fair in love and war,” Piotr laughs, parroting your earlier statement.

“Fucking –fine. Give me a minute.” You fly upstairs and into yours and Piotr’s bedroom, headed straight for the closet. You put on an extra shirt and one of Piotr’s sweaters, then descend upon both of your respective sock drawers.

You put on as many of your socks as you can manage. You get about ten pairs in before you physically can’t yank the next pair over your feet –which look like swollen, deformed potatoes now—then switch to using Piotr’s socks. Once you feel confident that you have enough of a safety net, you fly back downstairs (because heaven knows you wouldn’t be able to manage walking).

Piotr bursts out into shocked, raucous laughter the moment he sees what you’ve done. He collapses against the couch, gut shaking as he howls with laughter. He gasps, face flushing as he fights for air. “Bozhe ty moi –chto –zachem—”

“Just start the damn game of golf,” you grouse as you plop down on the couch next to him.

“This is cheating!” Piotr manages as he wipes tears of mirth off his face.

“This is completely necessary!” you insist. “Just watch. I’ll go through all these fucking socks before the sixth hole.”

Piotr snorts, then giggles as he shakes his head. “Oh, myshka. You are too much for me sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, you chose to marry me.”

“That I did.” He loops an arm around your shoulders and tugs you close so he can kiss your temple. “Best choice ever.”

You can’t help but grin, then sigh when the golf game starts up and resign yourself to your fate of losing.

***

“You fucking bitch—”

Piotr giggles. “Myshka –just try—”

“No!” you snap as you line up your shot –again. “I’m not gonna pussy out on this, Piotr! I do it the cool way, or not at all!”

Piotr laughs, giggling helplessly as he tips his head back.

You’re on the fifth hole –which is shaped like an angled ‘L,’ which is one of the many bullshits that Wii Sports Golf likes to pull on you. To the side, however, there’s a small patch of playable fairway, which opens up a straight shot all the way to the hole.

The trick is, of course, the patch is miniscule at best.

The other trick is that you have to hit the ball at max power without going over, and –naturally—the controls for the game just aren’t meant for finesse.

“Fuck!” you scream, voice ragged, when your ball bounces out of bounds once more. “Shut the fuck up, you dickhole!” you snap when Piotr starts snickering once more. “This isn’t funny!”

“On contrary,” Piotr manages between giggles. “This is hilarious.”

You flip Piotr off –which only makes him laugh harder—then gasp and pump your fist when the ball finally lands and stays on the patch of fairway. “Oh, yes, you glorious bitch! This game is mine now. Victory is assured!”

“You are seven points behind on this hole alone!” Piotr laughs, incredulous.

“Irrelevant.”

It winds up being relevant, though, when Piotr clears the hole with a birdie (that he chips in, no less, the talented fucker) and you make out with a plus five.

You peel five socks off your hoard, tossing each one at your husband in turn. “Shut the hell up,” you grumble good-naturedly as Piotr laughs. “This is your own damn fault for choosing golf.”

“I have no regrets,” Piotr says, grinning widely.

By the end of the game, you’re out of all your socks –plus Piotr’s sweater—and your husband walks away with a negative score.

“Fucking bullshit,” you grumble, good natured, while Piotr wipes his eyes dry. “Absolutely horseshit. I call rigging. Unfair. Illegal. I demand a mistrial.”

Piotr giggles breathlessly, clutching at his sides. “Bozhe moi –ow. I cannot…”

“Serves you right.” You take his Wii remote –he’d gotten player one on top of all this injustice, the nerve—and click back to the game’s main menu. “You’re going down, motherfucker. Prepare to have your ass handed to you.”

Piotr favors you with an amused smile as you cue up the baseball game. “We have baseball in Russia. You know this, da?”

“Yeah, but did you ever play it?”

“Did you?”

“I still know more about it than you do,” you fire back. “Prepare to be owned, Rasputin. Oh, and getting a home run counts as an extra piece of clothing off.”

Piotr snorts, shaking his head. “Khorosho.”

Granted, you aren’t the best at the baseball game; you can’t throw a good pitch to save your life.

In your favor, though (and what will be much to your husband’s surprise), is that your hitting abilities are marginally better –insomuch that you can only either strike out or hit home runs.

Piotr’s mouth twitches into a frown when you hit a home run right off the bat. He glances towards you, understanding dawning in his sky blue eyes. “How… how much do you play this game?”

“Not much,” you answer as your Mii runs around all the bases. “I like bowling better.”

Piotr nods before peeling off one of his socks –though his wary expression doesn’t waver.

Fortunately, it’s not even a competition. Even with your certified lack of skills, you still outpace Piotr by miles.

He groans when you hit another home run, then strips out of his boxers with a resigned sigh. “You tricked me.”

“Honestly, it was a toss up,” you admit. “If you were able to score at all—”

“Hey!”

“You might’ve beaten me, considering that I strike out a lot and can’t pitch worth a darn.”

Piotr shakes his head –though he’s smiling—and tosses his boxers aside. He turns to face you and spreads his arms, as if to say ‘well, you got me.’ “Do you want to finish game?”

“Nah.” You grin, hit the home button so the game pauses, then hop off the couch and wrap your arms around your husband’s waist. “I’ve got something else in mind, now.”

Piotr grins. His hands smooth down your sides, stopping at your hips. “Shall we take this upstairs, moya lyubov’?”

“I think we shall,” you reply with an equally wide grin. You giggle, delighted, when Piotr lifts you up, and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you upstairs.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #fluff #just pure grade tooth rotting fluff #also i wrote this when fall guys was the big thing #which should tell you how old it is #i've been holding on to it as a reserve fic #which has certainly paid off now #i still like it tho #sometimes you just want pure grade fluff #also for those of you upset about the cocktease: if this gets 100 notes in a week (by 2/11/22)#i will write a part two with the smut #x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction #i also remembered to do my taglist for the first time in months lol

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kthynes · 3 years

Text

baby me

pairing: chris evans x female reader

request: Can you pls write something about Chris sick with some kind of stomach bug and fever and doesn’t want the reader to help him because he’s embarrassed but then he throw up and almost faint so the reader comes to the rescue and help him, and then cuddles? Thank you!!❤️ - anon

warnings: none, this is pretty pg

a/n: I wrote this one shot a little differently, it’s way less wordy and descriptive (imo). I’m trying to be more ‘to the point’ with my writing ahh we shall see how it goes. Otherwise please enjoy this little gem, thanks for the request, anon!

“What do you mean you can’t have it done? Oh, c’mon Tony that’s not what I— Alright okay, you know what, sure, whatever, do that then.”

You’re annoyed. You’re frustrated. You rummage through your oversized purse for the house keys that Chris has graciously lent you yet you somehow manage to misplace in the silk sheath of lining, receipts and a whole slew of miscellany.

Your one track life becomes an undisputed conundrum of work which never fails to follow you home even on a somewhat good day. Tony, the wrought-up site manager, says something the minute you tune out which allows to spiral right back in. Sometimes you bark. And sometimes you bite.

“Right but the unit division budget doesn’t have anything going forward in respect to that notion! You know this!” You boisterously tell your colleague after jiggling the door open and tossing the keys on top of the nearby console. The house is quiet, and your voice is the loudest carrying tremor that pulls Chris out of his lulling state. “No, no you are not fucking negotiating with Kingsley alright. That isn’t apart of the deal, Tone! Jesus.”

Your call consumes you just until you see your deadbeat partner sprawled up on the couch, sallow and sick. His dry lips are agape, breathing is staggered, little to no life is present in his form. His beautiful mutt looks to you from his side, tail slightly wagging and that is enough to have your heart torn out.

“Hey, hey Tony, can I call you back later? O-Oh sure, okay yeah that’s fine. Okay, alright buh-bye.” You frantically end the call, furrowing your brows as you take long, leaping strides towards Chris who is finally relieved to see you in all of your concerned beauty.

“Everything okay baby?” He croaks like a dying horse, eyes closing as his stomach lurches some more.

“You’re asking me? Goodness Chris, you look terrible.” You cradle the side of his balmy face while crouched in front of him. You are frightened with worry as he kisses the inside of your palm in return. The sweet action itself makes you wince as you scan his sunken and unpropitious features.

Chris is at his worst. You knew he was feeling a bit under the weather but didn't think once that it'd be this bad. He's severely impaled, sweating up a storm yet swathed in his favorite velour duvet. The TV is fuzzily broadcasting C-Span while Chris’s laptop is flipped open with a flood of emails that he wasn’t able to get around to. There’s a half eaten loaf bread and an open sleeve of crackers that doesn’t pass his appetite. While looking around, you casually pet Dodger with one free hand who also seems to be happy to see his momma around and readily waiting for you to do something.

“I don’t know what it is that I had last night at the launch party but it’s rocking my insides honey.” Chris groans after feeling another ripple go through his abdominal cavity.

“Aw baby you should’ve called me. I would’ve picked up some Pedialyte and left work early.” You reach over to turn off the TV and close the laptop.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

"Too late for that, hon." You fearfully laugh while getting back to him and running a hand through the top of his head down to the nape of his neck. "Now c'mon lets get you in bed first and then I can make you some light dinner."

"I'm fine." Chris hums, loving the way your hands felt against the shaft of his scalp. "You just came home from work, you're probably really tired — go shower and get changed. I'm good right here."

"Don't be stupid, Evans. I can do all that later, now up." After some reluctant attempts you manage to get Chris up who for the most part can stand on his own two feet. Dodger barks his cautionary welcome as you and Chris trudge across the threshold of the single storey home together. You both enter his unmade room and that’s when Chris freezes in mid-stride. He has an uneasy feeling wash over him and everything becomes a jolting sprint of madness.

"Oh no babe I think I might—“ Upchuck. Chunks of indistinguishable remnants of undigested food and bile all came down on your frame as you stood in the line of fire. It’s fleeting and there wasn’t much you could do as you wore his vomit, letting it weigh down the front of your seersucker blouse and skirt.

"Fuuuuck." He panics and you exhale shakily with your arms spread apart, studying the wet projectile painting that amasses your body.

"It's fine. It’s okay." You say while trying to remain sympathetic and undeterred by throwing up yourself because the smell was impalpable. You imprudently gag while guiding Chris back to the bed. "How about you lie down and I’ll just —Chris? Chris!"

Chris's eyes gradually roll back, his body swings forward the minute he sits on the edge of the mattress and with your fast reflexes you manage to catch him against you. He's practically deadweight, passed out and that scares you.

"Oh god Chris babe? Baby, hey, hey..." You shake him a little as his face is caught in the crook of your neck, body rigidly leaned up against yours. He moans a little, regaining consciousness in a matter of seconds and calming your increased heart-rate that still continues to thunder. He was truly going through the motions.

"You alright?" You breathe, placing a hand on his cheek and forcing him to look at you.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay. I'm so sorry, baby I...I..." He's a bit frazzled as you hush, pacify and hold him close to your form. He breathes you in as you strip off your soiled blouse and skirt. He’s hunched over when you start to peel off the black tee he has on that is smeared with vomit as well, leaving him bare chested in your embrace. You are crouching in front of him, his forehead against you shoulder while your hands were rubbing his back and soothing him. You could hear the low indigestible rumbles coming from his belly knowing how bad he’s been having it on both ends. “Oh I feel terrible Y/N.”

“I know. How about you get in the shower with me." You whisper in a non-sexual way as his body is burning up and the sour smell of regurgitation still lingered around your bodies. He softly nods and with some consuming seconds later, you walk him into the ensuite.

After you both wash up in the shower, you pass Chris some fresh clothes to change into while you travelled across the room in nothing but a towel for the past 10 minutes or so, making sure Chris was able to get himself sorted out first before you stepped away to get changed.

With dinner on your mind, you start thinking to yourself how you can't leave Chris alone in this state. You have an idea and that’s when you text Scott to bring up some dinner so that way you could spend some time holding Chris and making sure that he was okay.

Scott at 7:45 pm:

'On it baby cakes. Ma knows, she's making his favorite chicken noodle with lots of cayenne, ginger and all the good stuff. So you just stay put alright?’

You smile after reading the immediate response from Chris’s sweet brother. While you continue lathering yourself up in lotion you could hear Chris dozing off on the bed. You turn off the bathroom lights and leave to start up a load of laundry before sneaking back into bed with him. Chris stirs a bit before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer.

“I promise I won’t throw up on you again.”

“Only if you don’t have to.” You whisper jokingly while pressing your lips against the underside of his chin. He hums at this with his eyes closed, his hands graze your exposed skin as he’s trying to hold you as inhumanely close to him as possible. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Scott’s going to be dropping off food so don’t go to sleep yet.” You state, drifting in apprehensive thought. Soon Dodger whimpers into the room and you pat the spot next to you for him to jump on. Chris has always been weary of having Dodger on the bed but because of extenuating circumstances you felt like his presence was also needed as well.

“That’s fine. Thanks again for everything.” He shuffles over after he sees Dodger crawling up and wedging himself in between the both of you. “Mmm hi bubba.”

“Anything for you mio amore.” You say, rubbing his soft belly and soothing the ache to the best of your ability.

“You know, you’re going to be an amazing mother some day Y/N.” Chris muses.

“I hope so.”

“I know so.” Chris rebuts, drawing in a deep breath with his eyes closed. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You say in return, spending the rest of the evening in his wake before the entire Evans clan shows up at the front door, each worried silly about their pride and joy, leaving Chris to be theirs and having you watch from afar while they enforced their own tender love and care.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff

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bibliocratic · 3 years

Text

litany An exploration on endings. Or: all the ways it could have gone wrong and right.

jonmartin, spoilers for 200, content warnings in the tags

This is not what she thought victory would feel like.

Basira’s fingers tense and smart with overexerted aching when she stops to stretch them out. There is a geography of broken blood-vessels under the bruising that lies puddle-splotched over her hands which scrabble and claw talon-bent at the rubble. They are scored with scratches and tears where her exposed and dust-ruined skin has snagged on fractured brickwork.

She uncovers a foot first, as she pushes up and over the twisted mental of a window frame with an exhausted clatter. A trainer, the white doused with mud, the trailing laces caked stiff and russet. More heaving and hauling, her breath purging from her faster now – maybe, maybe, maybe, but she has lived too long now to believe in miracles. Overturning a fire-blasted section of what could have been once part of the imperious and grand stone stairwell, she reveals the leg the trainer is attached to, pulverised and off-angled by the weight of the collapse, the fabric of it drenched in soot. She peels back a cascade of plasterboard with a grunt, and there is a twisted pelvis, shattered ribs caved in under an acrid-smelling jumper. She’s not surprised at the dull punch of revelation, when she digs out hunched shoulders, coils of hair turned grey-white like swans’ down with the dust.

Martin is obviously dead. She hopes it was quick, fears it was not. His body lying stringless is curved around something, clutching it to him with his bruised and broken fingers. It takes many minutes of labouring, her spine seizing with complaint, sweat pooling at her brow and under her arms, but eventually she reveals Martin’s tender quarry, bundled up against his chest, blood-soaked from a wound long congealed. His own long and bloody fingers clenched and moored into the weft of Martin’s jumper.

She doesn’t need to check his pulse. She is cursed with enough sentiment to do so anyway. Crouching for a moment in the thick of the settling devastation, the fug of dust coating her nostrils, before she murmurs ‘I’m sorry’.

As she stands, she takes off her coat to lay it over them respectfully, the only shroud she can offer.

When her voice is composed, its cracks flattened out, she shouts the others over to tell them to stop searching.

The knife does not go in easily. There is force behind its thrust, a manic wave-shock of hysteric intent, and Jon’s lips part in a gasp as skin and sinew and flesh split. The noise wrenched from Martin is soiled with ruin, tremulous and saw-toothed, and he will never be able to forgive himself.

Jon’s eyes close. Peace of a sort granted to Magnus’ last and most beleaguered of Archivists.

And then they open. All of them, like the unfolding back of petals during blossoming, a meadow’s expanse of sight flowering on his face.

“No,” Martin whispers, the refusal almost lost over the tumult of the building around them. He pulls the knife out, and it drips onto the floor, making damp the material of his trousers. “No, nononononono.”

The wound presses together like lips, and then it is gone.

“I think it’s too late for that, Martin,” the Archivist says in that calm and reasoned voice of his.

It is a surreal, poorly-rendered mirror of before. A way the record of the world has slipped, juddered aground in a repeat. For all they have both changed, outgrown the casings of the people they were, for all they have endured both together and apart, it is a sick homecoming of sorts to stand again a second time round at the entrance to his hospital ward.

She’s brought supermarket flowers bunched in plastic, the last of a bad crop and too late to get the freshest, the stalks of baby’s breath drooping, the petals on the carnations mottled slightly and past their glory days. Jon lies submerged in sleep, the focal point in a placid storm of machines and wires. This coma chemically induced with no inkling of the supernatural, a last-ditch effort by the doctors to reduce the swelling on his brain. To give the body a chance to heal from the damage sustained during the collapse, his frame bludgeoned and punctured like a shrike-caught mouse, the smoke that has snarled like brambles in his lungs. The almost comically neat wound punched into his chest, nicking his heart.

She hopes his sleep is dreamless.

It takes him weeks to wake up.

“… Georgie?” he finally gasps out on an otherwise uneventful Thursday. His vocals are ribbed and scored with smoke damage. He’s sluggish as he blinks and turns and groans at the complaint of his body around him. “What – er?”

“Hey Jon,” she replies. “Good to have you back with us.”

She lets him acclimatise. Without his glasses, he squints and peers owlishly, like an inquisitive bird, absorbed by the novelty of his environment, the mundanity; the hospital-blue curtain that’s been pulled back around his bed, missing a few rungs and so hanging lopsided in places. The wilting flowers on the side table. The IV needles threaded into his arms.

“Did it work?” he asks finally.

“We think so.”

Georgie doesn’t add more. The conversation is one she knew they’d have, but it still feels like stepping out on frozen water. She is waiting for it to give beneath him, for the drop and drown in the unmoored cold.

His relief muddies in increments. His brow crinkling with a frown, glancing around again at the other beds. Their occupants dredged up and out and recovering from their private terrors, bringing the lessons of their landscape with them.

“Where - ?”

He looks up at her. The ice cracking.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Jon,” she says.

“We made it. L-look, see, we’re – I don’t know where we are exactly, b-but that doesn’t matter, does it, because we’re together, yeah? We’re together and that’s… that’s what we promised.”

The blood is drying on his trembling fingertips, the crevices of his palm, and it flakes off like decaying leaf-fall. The front of his clothes is clogged and sodden, the slick slow to harden. The weight in his arms is making his shoulders scream but he can’t let go.

“We – we did it,” he repeats hollowly. Desperately. “We did it, s-so you can come back now. You can come back. Together, you promised.”

The winds of this new world blow as cold as the old one did, and it is Martin’s only reply.

“It’s for the best, Martin,” the Archivist says.

“Shut up,” his furious watcher snarls. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t play st – Like him! Like he would! Using his voice.”

“It’s my voice. It’s me, Martin.”

Martin doesn’t respond to that. Their arguments are cyclical as roundabouts. He tells Martin he loves him. Martin tells him to fuck off.

The place where Jonah Magnus met his End, crumpled up on the dais of the Panopticon, has been cleared of blood. It distressed Martin to look upon, as evidence of his ascension rather than his capacity for brutality, so the servitors saw to its removal. The body he gifted to the mulch of the bone gardens, and the wailing growths flourished beautifully with the nutrients it bore.

The screams beyond the walls of the Panopticon cut off faster as he hastens them towards the End. He observes a world in its twilight. There is still torment, and it is unendurable and unfair but it will end under his reign, for good and for ever, and he will ensure that there is no more.

“You don’t have to stay,” the Archivist says. Considered. Gentle. “I know… seeing me like this is not what you wanted. I want us to be together while it ends, but I won’t force you.”

“And how is it any better out there?”

“It’s not,” he admits. “Here, I can keep you safe. I want you to be safe. I want you to be happy.”

“Well, you fucked up there then,” Martin snaps.

His anger is righteous and flint-spark, makes barriers that almost waylay his grieving. He looks at him, and for a moment, his gaze shakes. He will see nothing less than he expects to see, a man, unkempt from travel, a bit grubby. Coarse hands he has held, lines he has attempted to smooth. In many ways, this makes it worse.

Martin turns away, and the Archivist lets him go.

He needs time and they have more than enough of it now.

He is inconsolable when they dig them out. A horrible, anguished keening like he’s being struck, a gasping that violently gags and stoppers in his chest. His face twisted, blotching, his eyes swollen, and the picture he makes is ugly, rent-open, decimated, bawling into the body he’s crushed up against him. Rag-doll limbed. Ashen.

They can’t make him let go. His cries transform and degrade into wails, garbled wordless, the horizon of language lost. They aren’t even sure if he knows they’re there. The sound pouring out of him is frenzied, delirious and anguished by surviving the unsurvivable alone. He fades hoarse through the ruin he has made of his throat and then he just weeps into Jon’s chest, and still he will not let go.

Melanie’s the one that stops him using the knife the first time. Wrestling it from his grip more out of surprise than shock at Georgie’s shout, and her anger is poisoned with her panic, throwing it to one side and hearing it clatter, snarling that I’m not going to fucking bury both of you, you hear me, don’t even think about it, fuck you, you think this is what he would have wanted, you think we want to lose you too?

Martin doesn’t reply.

They are not fast enough to stop him the second time he tries.

There are two men, strangers to these parts, who moved into the village from elsewhere like seeds caught on breeze. They plant their roots in uneasy soil. They talk to no one, versed in polite but guarded pleasantries, their greeting smiles to-the-point and weathered like coastal walls to withstand even the most inquisitive of questioners.

The one who is tall has the pared-down appearance of someone who has lost a lot of weight through some wasting that gnaws upon him. A gauntness that accentuates the furrows and gulleys and crags of his face, worsens the snow-stark white of his hair. The one who is short has been formed naturally sharp in features, although the brown of his eyes is mellow, prone to distance and otherwise unremarkable. The rumour mill, that tumbles in cycles of chatter that rolls from suspicious to musing, supposes some great and devastating fire to account for the injuries on his hands and the exposed skin of his face and neck, the pocked divots like scattered spark burns, ragged scars from shrapnel of some kind.

The one who is short limps on a sturdy walking stick, fashioned from an oak branch divorced from its tree in a storm. Any travel ventured upon is slow and demonstrably an effort. His free hand clasped in the hand of the one who is tall, who decks himself in layers even in the mildest of weathers, whose eyes are biting as hailstones, awashed grey and framed with bruising as though his dreams are rarely kind.

They re-painted the outer walls of their house last summer, when the temperature wallowed sticky and dense and glorious. The tree in their garden has fruited its first pears, few and stunted but a start that promises better crops come next year.

There is the hope that the strangers are happy.

If they are, it remains nobody’s business but their own.

392 notes · View notes

clarissalance · 3 years

Text

Watermelon-flavored popsicle

Pairing: Xingqiu x g/n!reader, mention of Chongyun

Warning: light swearing, kissing, a lot of grammatically errors.

Word count: 3404

Summary: A coincident meeting between you and Xingqiu on Yaoguang Shoal might have changed your relationship.

A/N: Here is my come back for summer. This piece has been in my folder for so long but I just don’t want to check the errors and proofread. Luckily, I have found my motivation (no more wifi) and here is the piece. This one is inspired by imagination if I can go to the beach ( I hate corona).I hope you have fun reading this oneshot (and feel my desperation to enjoy the sunny beach) Next up will be Kazuha, I think :D. Please send Xingqiu a lot of love~~ (❤´艸｀❤)

Picture credit: @polarbear43666 on Twitter.

Summer in Liyue has always been sweltering, burning, and unbreathable. The sun stands proudly in the middle of clear azure sky, not a single cloud dare to tread near the glowing king, blocking the beam of lights shine down the city.

Today is also another day of undesirable temperature. Even when the city is a harbor, the cool breezes from the sea can’t calm down the rising heat from the road, nor the glowing businesses or the flock of people going to the market. Living in the city for 5 years, you know not to tread near the market during working hours, so you decide to go somewhere quiet, relaxing and enjoyable.

Yaoguang Shoal.

Normally, you would have gone to a teahouse or a bookstore to escape the hot weather, but today, those areas are swamp with people. You might have a brief idea of why they would be so crowded in there. It can only be Yunjin performance, or the teahouse is having a giveaway.

As much as you love to enjoy her breathtaking performance and intriguing stories, you wouldn’t risk getting trampled by those people. Maybe another day, when people aren’t packing inside the teahouse.

As soon as you arrive at the shore, the thick scent of salt waffles around the tip of your nose, sounds of waves calmly splashing against the coast. Slowly, you remove your shoes and sink your feet down the fever-like golden sand, heading toward the white bubbles splashing waves.

You should have brought a flip-flop instead of shoes.

At the burning sensation on the sole of your feet, you start sprinting toward the nearby small patches of grass hiding under a gigantic shade, hoping to save your sensitive skins.

As soon as you jump on the lump of grass, you can’t help letting out a painful hiss, jumping like a grasshopper on the surface. This place isn’t very far from the water, maybe you can put on an umbrella here and enjoy the breathtaking scenery.

Afar, you can see a few white cranes enjoying the cold water while looking for fishes, bathing under the scorching heat. Propping yourself on your knee, you sit down and enjoy the feeling of wind combing through your messy dark locks. From here, the sound of splashing water on the sand, the soothing sensation of a peaceful summer gently sinks down your skin.

You’re lucky to find a shade in the middle of a shore, under the scorching sun glaring holes on your head. Unlike the harbor, Yaoguang shoal is much more breathable, the cool breeze brings the smell of sea salt dancing on your skin, slowly imbued your silky dark lock with the distinctive scent of the ocean.

Letting out a lazy sigh, you leisurely drift into a slumber, opting for a relaxing nap while enjoying the sound of nature.

How great is it to not have someone disturb you?

“Y/N?”

Maybe you speak too soon.

Furrow your brows, you slowly open your eyes, annoyed by the sudden intrusion. The bright light clearly wants to pierce your eyes, but the figure moves closer and blocks the over-enthusiastic sun out of your gaze. You slowly sit up, squinting hard at the dark figure.

“Xingqiu?” Widen your eyes at the familiar shade of blue, you look at him quizzically. “What are you doing here?”

The male lets out a breathy chuckle and crouches down, letting light falls on his face.

“Me? The weather is nice, so I’m strolling along the shore and enjoy the weather.”

At your comical gaze drilling at his head, and the hydro user finally raises his hand in defeat. “ Fine, fine. I was on my way back to the Harbor after helping the traveler with some commissions.”

“ The harbor is the other direction.” You dubiously point the opposite direction, a small gust of wind picking up and tousling your hair. “ If you’re heading this direction, Dragonspine is where you're heading.”

“What are you doing here?” The young man ignores your remark and changes the topic, eyes curiously wander down your lying body on the grass.

“ Escaping the heat from the harbor.” You hum and scoot to the other side, sparing Xingqiu a space to sit. He must be drying staying that long under the sun.

He quickly sits down next to you, slowly peeling his boots and socks away. The area is small, forcing you to stay close to him, your shoulders almost bumping into each other. As much as you love skinship, any physical contact is overbearing in this weather. The scenery would have been more romantic if you’re sharing body heat in the bizarrely cold Starglow Cavern.

Wait… why did Xingqiu sit down and remove his boots? Isn’t he supposed to go back to the harbor?

“ You aren’t going back to the harbor?” You tilt your head and his side profile.

“ I was, but I change my mind.” The blue figure has his eyes on the boots, unlacing the footwear. “Sitting here with you is much more breathable than cramping inside the teahouse and the bookstore.”

…But you didn’t agree to let him stay in the first place. Why is he still here then?

You just offer him a place to sit down in the shade, just because he was sweating profusely under the sun when you were talking to him. It’s called an action out of politeness!!! He isn’t supposed to take the offer and makes himself comfortable.

Great, now you’re stuck with a body heat that you desperate to get away from. Roll your eyes, you let your gaze fleet over the vast clear ocean in front of you.

From here, you can slightly make out an outline of Guyun Stone Forest peeking behind the thickening clouds. That majestic scenery, the infamous fight between Osial and Res Lapis, you wonder how big that fight was to create a whole island with a gigantic unique shape? After thousands of years, you can still feel the rumbling energy threatening to break the seal of lord of Geo, yet something manages to force them down. Perhaps, there might be someone there securing the seal, holding the remaining pieces together. What would happen if that seal finally breaks again? Will the entire harbor engulfed by the anger of the lord of Vortex, or, will the new Geo archon will defend it?

“A mora of your thought?” A youthful voice calls out, and you whirl your head in his direction. “ You look so deep in thought.”

“ Ah… I was just thinking about the Guyun Stone Forest.” You shyly scratch your head, eyes don’t meet his. You totally forgot someone is sitting next to you. Xingqiu doesn’t comment, he lets his gaze drift to the Stone Forest, and the silence falls.

This time you don’t let your eyes stray to the exalted scenery hiding away under those clouds. Instead, you observe the hydro user, who is just a few inches away. His features are soft, yet so define. The sharp eyes, the slope of his nose, and the plush lips. Under the smooth cerulean locks is his signature amber orb. You have always felt enamored under his gaze ever since you first met. That golden eyes are always filled with the determination and sharpness of a predator. You love it when the soft, bubbly Xingqiu turns sharp, or when he’s practicing his swordsmanship.

“Take a picture, it will last longer.” The hydro user says, his voice remains calm and unwavering, almost make you mistake for someone else. “ How is my face?”

“ Utterly unacceptably handsome.” Propping yourself on your elbow, you stare into his deep eyes, answer honestly, try to hold your scoff.

Xingqiu doesn’t comment on your compliment but tilts his head the other way, avoiding your hawking gaze. Obviously, he knows you like to mess with him, trying to pull a reaction out of the shameless nonchalant friend when you’re bored. How you wish he would at least give you an entertaining reaction.

You remember those days when Xingqiu and Chongyun are easily flustered. Nowadays, only Chongyun is still affected by your antic. How does that popsicle boy not immune to your frequent teasing is also a big mystery you’re looking for an answer to.

“ You shouldn’t say someone is handsome if you don’t mean it.” After a while, the calm hydro user is back, composed, and relax. How can he be so lax in this atrocious weather, you don’t want to know.

“ But… you’re handsome ?”

“ You’re just trying to make me fluster.” He replies, a blush slowly creeps on his cheek. You don’t know why he’s trying to deny your compliment. He’s handsome, and you’re just using that fact to turn him into a tomato. Why does it sound like he’s trying hard to convince himself his face isn't aesthetic to look at?

You open your mouth but close it. Speechless, you don't know how do you convince him that you honestly compliment his features, not… uh baiting him? Do your compliments sound like cheap-ass flirtatious attempts people usually get in a combo when they visit the tavern?

Your motive isn’t as pure as it can be but your compliment does: honest, and authentic. How could he twist your words into something so scandalous like that? Outrageous!

Your lips part to speak, but something cold and hard is shoved inside, and your olfactory bulbs almost explode with flavor (and numbing cold). The feeling of fruity sweetness seeps on your tongue, with a tingle of refreshing feeling dancing on top. Glaring dagger at Xingqiu, you notice his gloating face while biting the signature blue popsicle. Did Chongyun give that to him?

Plug the freezing item out of your mouth, the vibrant pinkish color glowing under the sun, slowly dripping down your hand. It is a watermelon-flavored popsicle. He could have handed it to you nicely instead of almost choking you off and stop your sentence like that. Nevertheless, you still enjoy the watermelon-flavored popsicle while pouting at the young man.

“ Where did you get this?” In between you lick, you look up at him, surprised to see half of the popsicle has disappeared. Did he just chomp all that in less than a minute?

“I bought it, of course, food doesn't fall from the sky.” This young man is much more handsome when he has his mouth closed. You are really contemplated whether to use your handkerchief to shove down his throat. Or maybe a rock could do the job well too.

“So, pay me.” Xingqiu suddenly brings his hand to your face, mischief glowing in his amber eyes. The audacity of this hydro user must have rocketed the sky after so long not having a good fight. You give him a forced smile while elbow him in the stomach, voice dangerously low.

“ Our friendship doesn’t even worth a single popsicle? Really Xingqiu, I’m so disappointed.” You fake a sigh, head shaking in disapproval.

The god-damned bastard avoids your blow without a hitch and even slithers his hand on your waist to tickle you. Oh, he must be looking for death this time.

With the popsicle still inside your mouth, you sneakily raise your hand, attempting to push Xingqiu into the lava-like sand as revenge. It'd be a perfect touch to your lovely afternoon to see him tumbling on the group while jumping like a hissing cat.

How naïve of you, to think that he doesn’t spot your little antic. This is the young man always out-performing you in every aspect, even in eating a popsicle.

Without even looking at you, he catches your wrist effortlessly while still licking the ice cream. His body relaxes, compare to you, who almost tumbling toward him if he doesn't hold you in place. In a panic, you try to wriggle yourself out of his hold, but the young man only tightens his hold, remains unfazed by your swinging attempt to fling his hand out of your wrist.

“ Let me go Xingqiu!” Instead of laughing at a hissing Xingqiu tumbling on the sand, you become the angry cat here.

“ So you can hit me? Of course not.” He replies gloatingly, chins lackadaisical, his fingers wrap tightly around your wrist.

“It’s hot.”

“ Eat your popsicle then.” His hand holding your wrist brings up to point at the melting ice cream on your hand. “It’s melting.”

Of course, everyone can see that. Shooting pointed gaze at him, you try to shake the tight grip on your wrist a few more times, but nothing avails. He doesn’t let go, and your other hand is busy holding the popsicle. If you have another one, maybe you can peel off his fingers. Too bad you only have 2 hands.

Sigh out in defeat, you give Xingqiu stink eyes before turning your attention back to the watermelon popsicle, occasionally look down at his grip to find an escape route. You don’t believe you can’t escape from his grasp!

The hydro user doesn’t let your hand go after he finished his popsicle, instead, he slumps down with one cheek resting in his hand, staring at your face blatantly. You don’t usually mind but being gawked at while eating isn’t as comfortable as you thought.

“ What?” Finally, you look up to face the mischievous blue boy.

“ Can I have a bite?”

“ Obviously n-” He doesn’t wait for your answer and leans in. Your first reaction is to be dodged away, but the sneak has your wrist pinned on the grass, forcing you to stay still.

As soon as you realize your immobile state, Xingqiu is a few inches away from your face, licking the popsicle, and then biting off the edge near the stick. His smooth cheek brushes past your fingers, the deep blue locks fall on his face. From here, you inhale a hint of mint and sweet vanilla. Instead of the familiar scent of woodsy musky of old books, you notice a whiff of summer and salt on him.

Stunted by his sudden closeness, you remain to freeze even after he pulls away.

“W-wh-what did you j-just do?” To your horror, you stutter. Not once, but twice.

“Eat your popsicle.”

As nonchalant as ever, he shrugs while swiping the remains on his lips, like he isn’t the one who just leans in so close to you. You are too dazed to even realize the popsicle hang close to your mouth is dripping down your clothes.

Startle at the coldness, you hastily look down and scrunch your face at the mess. Ugh, it’s because of him, again!

“ Need me to eat that for you?” he offers, but you swear you hear a hint of playfulness glinting in his voice. Quickly, you bite off the remaining before he can steal another bite, forget how sensitive your gum is. The result, you can already imagine, is brain freeze.

Hissing at the sudden burst of frost blooming in your mouth, unconsciously grab on Xingqiu, squeezing his hand tightly while squirming vigorously. You shouldn’t have bitten off the whole thing, even when it melts. Hand in hand, you can feel the warmth of his fingers caressing your wrist, and they slowly move down and intertwine with yours. That opportunistic guy.

During that heated moment, you remember yourself instinctively looking for a source of heat. At one point, your brain decided to throw the remaining sanity out the window. It convinces your body that the crook of his neck is the best source of warmth to melt the overbearing sensation in your mouth. And your body decides to do without giving another thought.

Face buries deep in his neck, you are engulfed in his strong musky scent, naturally, you freeze dead on your track.

What have you done?

How do you get up?

How can you look at his eyes now?

With the dreading thoughts constantly running around your mind, you can only hit your head on his shoulder blade in shame, earning a rumbling chuckle from the young man.

“ Don’t laugh!” Your whiny voice is muffled by his clothes. Upon your request, he doesn’t stop at a chuckle but starts to wheeze, chest rumbling. Your cheeks burn crisp with embarrassment, yet you can’t find a single hole to hide.

“ Hahaha… Why did you do that?” He bursts out ungracefully, his shoulder shaking vividly. Xingqiu is teasing you on purpose!!

You also want to ask why did you do that too. Why did you do that without even thinking about the consequence again?

“ Stop laughing!” The audacity of this boy, after you told him to stop laughing, he snorts louder and teases you more. You thought this chivalrous nobleman would only snort for a few minutes, then he would comfort you like the novel. Too bad, life isn’t as predictable as the novels. What you expect is the comforting hug, or his hand patting your head reassuringly. What you get instead is a never-ending tease and the constant re-telling of the scenario in an out-of-breath voice.

Moving away from his neck, you pout and sulky. Despite being under the shade and cool sea breezes, you feel the heat rushing at the back of your neck and on your cheeks, a friendly reminder. Fingers fondling the edge of your shirt, you pretend to be deaf at the puff of his laugh. Is it too late for you to move to Inazuma and never see him again?

Actually, it might be better to start avoiding than do nothing.

You attempt to stand up abruptly and prepare to sprint off, fleeing away from the young hydro user who is making himself relax next to you.

Notice the use of the word here: “attempt”.

Xingqiu quickly sees through your plan before you can start it.

Unlike last time, he saw your movement and stopped your hand in the mid-air. This time, he is a step ahead and caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head toward him, his mesmerizing golden eyes pierce through you.

Catch-off-guard by his sudden closeness, the unsuccessful plan is extinguished at the back of your head.

Out of everything, why would he choose this way for your attention? You feel like you have no sanity left every time he does something intimate.

How weak are you for him?

The deep amber orbs study you intently like he’s trying to ingrain your face into his memories. The glimmering eyes always full of mischief and playfulness now is like an abyss, easily pull you in and spiraling into the darkness. The bubbly, transparent Xingqiu is replaced by a mature, mysterious, and charismatic man.

The distance between you slowly shorten, and finally, he’s a breath away. You nervously hold your breath, eyes widen at his every movement. Being this close, you can see his fluttering lashes, his sudden quicken breathing, and his plump lips dangling like a piece of meat in front of your hungry gaze. What is this feeling of heat rising up to your chest?

Like a moth drawn into flame, your eyes follow when his tongue darts out to wet the soft kissable pad, his lips transform into pinkish color, just like the watermelon popsicle.

Butterflies roaming inside your stomach, your fuzzy mind lets out a weak resistance, telling you to turn away, escape from the cradle of his finger on your chin.

However, your instinct gives in.

You part your lips and angle up, time stops when his lips meet yours. It is a light brush, yet you can feel your heart pounding wildly inside your chest as the mint frosty scent invades your sense. Your breath slowly turns labored, yet all you can focus on is how soft he felt on your lips and how addicting he’s tasting on your tongue.

When your visions start to blur, and your legs threaten to give out, you finally decide to part away, but the hydro user has his hands cupping on your cheek doesn't think so.

“Let me taste you again.” Xingqiu whispers, his voice deep and smooth like velvet.

And then he pulls you in, claiming your mouth again, passionate and intense. He tastes like the watermelon popsicle you just ate, like a sunny summer you used to love, like a soaring kite in the sky.

You don’t think you hate the feeling of his lips on yours.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin xingqiu #summer #hot weather #popsicle #a kiss #clarissalance #no beta we kayak like tim #fluff #romance #friend to lovers #xingqiu x reader #xingqiu x y/n #oneshot #beach #sweating like hell #I proofread this with no wifi ;-;

135 notes · View notes

luimagines · 3 years

Text

100 Follower Prize

The winner of the raffle that was held a while ago was @twilightpoison!

And they have requested a scenario with Legend, Twilight and Wind!

Also known as the trio that Time screwed up.

Content under the cut!

“How on earth does Wild do this?” Legend snapped under his breath as he trudged through the swamp water. He had a bit of trouble keeping his lantern above the water but he led the way.

It was cold and wet and the water had seeped all the way through his boots and had seeped into his socks.

Everything was uncomfortable and smelly and there was no way to tell if there were any monsters nearby.

Twilight followed closely behind the Veteran with Wind clinging closely onto his back. It was arguably the longest piggyback ride Twilight had ever given but compared to Legend and Twilight, Wind was going to struggle more with getting through the water.

It came up above Legend’s knees and just beyond Twilight’s mid shin. The three of them had quickly decided to let Wind on top of Twilight because it would be close to the youngest’s hips.

“Beats me.” Twilight shrugged to the best of his ability. “I’m sure he has some special suit or armor the help him out in something like this.”

“I just wonder where the others are.” Wind shifts from his spot on Twilight’s back, leaning just a bit over his shoulder. “I hope they’re ok. It’s not like we get separated every time we switch worlds.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.” Twilight sighs. “They can take care of themselves.”

Legend grumbles to himself as they splash and trudge through the swamp. Twilight catches some less than savory words fall from his lips but considering they’re too low for the youngest to hear, he lets him have it. He can understand the sentiment even if he wouldn’t choose those words to describe it.

He sighs and adjusts Wind once more against his back.

Wind shifts as a response and he can feel Wind look behind them. “What if there are monsters nearby?”

“Don’t jinx us.” Legend snaps.

Twilight pauses and looks around the swamp that surrounds them.

Nothing yet.

Hopefully nothing at all.

He keeps walking.

The sun is beginning to set unfortunately and there’s not a lot of places where they’d be able to take refuge for the night without just giving themselves up completely to the swamp water around them.

“Is that a cave?” Legend lifts his lantern higher and points to the rock jutting out of the vines.

Twilight has to squint to see it but hums. “Might be. I say it’s worth checking out.”

“Yeah, I’m getting tired.” Wind rests his head against Twilight.

“I’m sure holding onto Twilight is an exhausting endeavor.” Legend rolls his eyes and once again keeps moving.

“Am I getting heavy Twilight?” Wind says in his ear.

Twilight shakes his head even if he knows he’s going to feel it for a while after he wakes up the next morning. “I can go for a little longer, Sailor. Don’t worry about it.”

Wind hummed against his head but didn’t say anything else.

The trio made their way over to the rock that Legend had pointed out and ventured inside on baited breath.

The water was still a bit higher than they would have liked but upon going deeper into the cave they eventually hit dry dirt.

The sigh of relief was palpable.

Twilight put Wind down at last and stretched his arms to avoid any cramps later on.

They weren’t in the clear yet.

Wind stood around for a second shaking his limbs all over with youthful vigor.

“What are you doing?” Legend looked over with a raised eyebrow- not amused at his antics.

“Getting some feeling back in my limbs.” He replied. “I feel like I’ve been stuck in the crows nest and have yet to get my land legs back.”

Twilight rolled his eyes and rolled his shoulder. Admittedly, he did feel a lot better without the added weight on them. “You stay here and try to get a fire going. I’ll go check if there’s any monsters in the back or something. The last thing we want is for this place to be habited.”

“You’re going alone? Are you stupid?” Legend snapped.

Twilight paused before flipping him the bird out of childish spite. “I need to make sure we’ll be safe here for tonight.”

“We need to get dry.” Legend tried to argue but Twilight waved him off.

“It will be worth nothing and even worse if we dry off now only to need to run back into the water.” Twilight tugged his pelt off of his shoulder and tossed it vaguely around Wind who was trying to get some warmth into his arms by rubbing them with his hands. “I won’t be long.”

“Don’t die.” Legend looked away and began to clear an area in the middle of the dry dirt to start the fire. “I’m not going to drag your sorry corpse through the swamp just to give you a proper burial. I’m leaving you behind if you die.”

Twilight snorted just before he left the lantern’s dim light. “I’d figured as much.”

“Don’t come back hurt either!” Wind called out after him as a second thought.

Twilight raised his arm high but didn’t verbally reply as he left the two of them alone.

Wind wrapped the pelt closer around himself and even pulled up the hood to cover his head. “I thought swamps were supposed to be in humid warm weather, why is it so cold here?”

“I don’t feel it.” Legend shrugged and began to pull out his fire rod. “We need tinder... or wood... just something to light and stay lit.”

Wind looked around the barren cave, twirling in his spot but finding nothing. “Maybe if there’s some dead leaves or twigs or something outside the cave we could use that.”

Legend groaned, loudly, but tossed Wind the fire rod. “Don’t light the whole place on fire.”

“You’re going to leave me alone?” Wind blinked and looked at the two items the older boys had given him. If he hadn’t known any better he’d say this was ominous and foreboding foreshadowing.

“Not for long. I’m still wet so it might as well be me.” Legend began to walk away, leaving the lantern behind. “Just stay here.”

“I can help!” Wind cried, making his way out of the cave.

“We don’t want to make Twilight carry you for nothing.” Legend sighed and waved him back to the spot he cleaned up. “Keep a look out for Twilight in case he comes back half dead and bleeding out or something.”

Under his breath he continued. “Of course the Rancher would be right about this but it’s only going to affect me at the end of the day.”

The thought of dealing with a mortally wounded team member put Wind more on edge than before. “Wait- Legend- don’t-!”

But he was already back in the water and Wind was alone.

“This sucks.” Wind pouted and tightened his grip on the magical item. “I hate this place.”

If Wind was tired before, he wasn’t as much anymore.

Wind walked around the dimly lit cave with nothing else to do. If he was being honest with himself he’d admit that he was unnerved by losing the group, by being stuck with Legend and Twilight at the end of the day with no sign of any other living being for the miles they’ve traveled, by being left alone as soon as they had the chance.... And well....

He was scared.

He didn’t know where he was or where his friends were and they just left him behind.

Wind didn’t want to think about any more than he had to.

So he waited and waited... and tried to keep busy by walking in circles and tossing the fire rod back and forth between his hands but the silence was not doing him any favors right now.

There was a subtle thumping noise behind him and Wind tensed up considerably. He spun around on his heel and pointed the fire rod at the back of the cave.

It was Twilight.

Who didn’t look any worse for wear.

Wind sighed of relief and put the fire rod down so that it was no longer pointed at his teammate. “You scared me.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “So you were going to blast me into oblivion?”

“No! Only if you were a monster or something!” Wind pouted and stuck his tongue out. He knew it was childish but it felt right to do so and he was beginning to feel tired again so frankly- he didn’t care.

Twilight shook his head with an amused smile on his face before he looked up and noticed the other missing member. His jaw twitched and he tensed some more before trying to calmly look at Wind. “Where’s Legend?”

“Collecting firewood.” Wind looked away and back to the entrance. “He wouldn’t let me come with him even if I offered.”

Twilight took a deep breath and tried to loosen up his muscles. There was no reason to be nervous or concerned right now. He’d be fine.

Wind perked up suddenly and looked back at him. “Did you find anything Twilight?”

The Rancher shrugged and stepped closer to where he could see where Legend had flattened the space, no doubt for the fire later. “Nothing much. Just dark and more dark and no monsters. We’d be safe here the night.”

Wind nodded and went to take off the wolf peel to give it back to Twilight but was stopped halfway.

“Keep it.” Twilight waved his hand. “It’s only going to get colder.”

Wind frowned and slowly pulled it back on, but had some difficulty to get it all bunched up with one hand and actually pull it over himself once more. It was heavier than it looked.

Twilight noticed the struggle and stepped in to help, bending down somewhat to still look Wind in the eyes as he properly placed the wolf pelt and hood around the boy.

“Oh, you’re back country boy.” Legend trudged back into the dry part of the cave- boots squelching with every step he took. “Glad to see you’re not dead.”

“It’s nice to know you have so much faith in me, Vet.” Twilight rolled his eyes. “We’re clear by the way. No monsters. We can stay here until morning.”

“Oh thank the Wind Fish. I was not willing to do anything else today.” Legend dropped the pile he had collected unceremoniously onto the ground and walked up to Wind. He held out his hand only to pause and reconsider his options. He looked down at himself and moved his outstretched hand from in front of Wind to instead gesture to the dry and very flammable materials. “Would you care to have the honors?”

Wind gasped and unknowingly tightened his grip on the fire rod. Legend watched the young boy brighten at his words and knew it was a good choice. “Really?”

“Have at it. One swing should be enough.” Legend shrugged and walked away to finally rid himself of his wet and smelly clothes. “Just don’t hit us or our stuff and you’ll be fine.”

“Awesome!” Wind bounced on his toes and studied the fire rod for a hot second.

Twilight bit his lip and took a step back from the boy.

Wind didn’t notice.

Wind aimed the rod at the decently sized pile and swung the rod downwards onto it. The flame burst forth is a blinding beam of light and easily caught onto the material Legend had collected.

A somewhat concerning giggle came out of Wind’s mouth but Legend came back in time to take his weapon away before Wind felt like going to light more things on fire, whether that means inside the cave or not. “Good job.”

Wind grinned and plopped down in front of the fire, leaning back against the cave wall with his hands out in front of him. “This is much better.”

Twilight snorted and plopped himself next to the Sailor and brought him close with a single arm.

Legend watched as he shucked off his outer tunic and tossed near the fire for it to dry. He sighed and tried to sit a way away but Twilight whistled- much like one would a cat.

“No.” Legend didn’t even look at him. “I’m fine.”

“Come on Legend~” He could hear Twilight’s grin. “You know you want to.”

“I know that I don’t want to actually.”

“Come here Legend.” Wind called instead. “We have any blankets. You’re going to get cold.”

“We have a fire and I already said that I don’t feel it.” Legend crossed his arms and looked in the opposite direction.

“But you took off your layers and Twilight said it’s only going to get colder.” Wind sighed and flopped himself over Twilight’s body. “Come huddle and get over it. My sister isn’t as much of a baby as you are.”

“If you make me get up and drag you here, you’re going in the middle.”

Legend snapped his head over to Twilight and frowned. “Fine.”

He got up and walked over to the two of them, sitting himself down on Twilight’s other side and leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. “I’m too tired to put up a decent fight. You win.”

“Mh-hm. I’m sure that’s it.”

“Rancher, I can and am willing to still fight you.”

Twilight laughed and instead pulled Legend closer to him with his arm wrapped around him. Legend squawked at being pulled flush against the larger man but didn’t actually put up much of a fight like he had threatened.

“I can’t believe this.” Legend scowled.

“Goodnight guys.” Wind yawned and snuggled closer into both the fur around him and Twilight.

“Goodnight Wind.” Twilight ruffled his hair through the hood before shifting to get a bit more comfortable himself. “Goodnight Vet.”

“Goodnight guys.” Legend begrudgingly latched onto Twilight’s arm and leaned his head against his shoulder for comfort. He noticed that he was actually a lot warmer like this and found himself being lulled to sleep by the calming sound of the fire and the rhythmic pressure of Twilight’s breath and heartbeat.

The three were hungry, still a bit wet and tired. But together they fell asleep by the open flame and rested with the hopes of gathering enough energy to find the rest of their friends when the sun would eventually come back up.

For now though, they slept.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse

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