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astrobei · 1 year

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for @quinnick: kiss prompt #4 - lips barely touching

The car is out of gas. Will is about ten seconds away from maybe-dying (again). Mike Wheeler has been abnormally quiet today.

At least of late, one of those things is more abnormal than the others.

The car is always out of gas. Will doesn’t know when the last time they’d filled it up was, but he does know that it’s not his problem trying to figure it out. That’s Hopper’s deal. Or his mom’s, maybe. Or Nancy’s, or Jonathan’s, or–

Whatever! The point is that the car is out of gas, Mike and Will are stranded at the currently closed general store, and they’re probably about to die.

Again.

“Mike,” Will tries, for maybe the hundredth time. “It’s not your fault, okay, it could’ve happened to anyone–”

“Yeah,” Mike grumbles miserably, as they round the corner, from aisle four – cleaning supplies and household items – into aisle five – canned goods. Most of the shelves are empty, turned over. Mike picks up a can of pickled green beans, pulls a face, and puts it back on the shelf. “But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to me.”

Will takes a long, deep breath in through his nose. God forbid Mike Wheeler ever let anything go. “You didn’t know,” he huffs anyway. “It’s not your fault.” The store is dark, which is great for being able to roll your eyes without Mike seeing. Will’s flashlight sputters, briefly, the bright circle of light flickering in and out of view. He smacks it against his palm once, twice, and it steadies. “Seriously,” Will adds, as Mike slows to a stop in front of him. “Stop beating yourself up. So we have to wait for a ride. Big deal.”

Mike turns around to face him. His expression is mostly unreadable in the dark, but Will’s flashlight catches the edge of it – worried, a little guilty. “Yeah,” Mike says softly. “Except there are things everywhere and waiting for a ride is just– we’re sitting ducks here, okay,” Mike frowns. “I don’t like it. It feels like tempting fate.”

“Well, the simple fact of my existence feels like tempting fate sometimes,” Will jokes. It works, for a split second – Mike’s furrowed brows smooth out into something halfway amused, and he makes a noise that might be a laugh.

“Not funny,” Mike says anyway. His lips twitch.

“You laughed!” Will insists, smiling. His voice carries down through the hallway in a vibrant echo. “I know you did!”

“Shut up,” Mike whispers, looking away. “Would it kill you to keep your voice down?”

It might. Somewhere in the back of Will’s mind, he’s vaguely aware that they’re not safe here, out in the open, and that the whole point of them coming inside instead of waiting in the parking lot was to hunker down until Jonathan and Nancy could get another car here to pick them up. And also, preferably, get some gas.

Somewhere significantly closer in Will’s mind, though, is the knowledge that this is the most Mike has said – and the closest he’s come to laughing – since the car had stalled on the way from the cabin to the general store ten minutes ago, and Mike had just barely had time to pull into the abandoned parking lot before it had stopped altogether. He knows Mike doesn’t like this – being caught off-guard, out in the open. Even minute changes in the plan – which you’d think they’d all be more prepared for, considering the way things have been going lately – get Mike a little keyed up.

And the sorry, borderline pathetic part is this: despite it all, despite the ever-present threat of danger, and the impending sense of doom that’s been hanging over their heads for what seems like forever, Will feels vaguely pleased with himself anyway, seeing Mike hold back a smile instead of forcing one on his face.

So yeah, it might kill him, if he kept his voice down. That’s okay. Will thinks it would be worth it, sometimes – the danger and the doom and everything else – to hear Mike laugh.

God, what’s wrong with him? That’s embarrassing. That’s so embarrassing.

He shakes the thought off. “Whatever,” Will says instead, praying the cover of darkness is hiding the blush that’s rapidly rising to his cheeks. He angles the flashlight away from them anyway, just in case, and Mike’s face falls back into silhouette. “You know I’m right. You’re doomed just by being here with me.”

Mike shakes his head. “You know I don’t think of you like that.”

Will frowns. “Like what?”

“Like– like a bad luck charm,” Mike waves his hands around. “Or whatever.”

“I didn’t say bad luck charm,” Will exclaims. “Ouch! Stop putting words into my mouth.”

Mike grins. “Would you rather have, uh,” he picks up the nearest can to him, something small and vaguely gray, “tinned sardines in your mouth? Tinned sardines in water? Oh, gross. Never mind, actually.”

“I would rather not,” Will decides, even though the shelves are so bare that they might have to suck it up and take home the tinned sardines in water after all. “Would you like some, uh. Tuna?”

“I guess we know why there’s so much fish,” Mike sighs, leaning heavily against an empty shelf. “Nobody wanted it.”

“You mean the ten people outside of our circle of friends that are still left in Hawkins? Yeah,” Will scoffs, then sets the can back down with a soft clink. “I guess not.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment. It’s quiet in the store, the room dark and lit faintly by Will’s flashlight and the display in the corner. It lights Mike up a faint blue, catches the edges of his jaw and where his hair is curling softly over the hood of his jacket.

Will’s flashlight sputters again.

When it comes back on this time, it’s more faint than it was before. It’s dark in here, Will realizes, a bit belatedly. Like, really dark.

He takes a deep breath and shuffles closer to Mike, just a little, like the shape of his body all leaned against the empty shelves is a grounding force. Mike gives him a look that Will can’t quite decipher in the dark.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Will breathes out. The proximity is helping, a little. “Just– waiting for our ride.”

Mike leans in a bit closer too, places an arm under Will’s elbow. It’s a light touch, nothing forceful, but the semblance of support is there. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

Sometimes, Will hates how well Mike knows him. He doesn’t get antsy in the same way Mike does in situations like these, but he’d be lying if he said they didn’t affect him at all. It should be expected by now, the automatic fight or flight.

For some cruel reason, it still isn’t. “You can’t even see me,” he says, but lets himself lean into the touch anyway.

“I can see enough,” Mike says easily. “Do you want to sit down?”

Will shakes his head. The only thing worse than waiting out in the open is sitting out in the open. At least when you’re standing, you can run. “No. I’m fine.”

Will can’t see Mike either, but he’d be willing to bet real money – that he doesn’t have – that he can tell exactly what Mike’s expression looks like. The pause grows, swells and swells and swells, until Will is sure Mike is going to say something–

There’s a clattering outside.

Instantly, Mike’s hand tightens its grip on Will’s elbow. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” Will hisses, twisting around to try and see through the windows. “Of course I heard that, Mike.”

“Do you think that’s–”

“No idea,” Will whispers. With no small amount of reluctance, he tugs his arm out of Mike’s grip. He misses the warmth of it almost instantaneously, and the tugging in his stomach is only amplified by the way Mike automatically leans in behind him, places a hand on his back to replace the absent touch, like it was never gone at all. Will swallows, and flicks the flashlight off. “Now be quiet.”

“The windows are boarded up,” Mike says, decidedly not being quiet. Will wonders where the Mike Wheeler of fifteen minutes ago went – the one that was sulking and fidgeting in silence the whole way down the first aid aisle. “They’re boarded up, so nothing can get in. Right?”

“We got in,” Will points out, which Mike seems to realize at approximately the same second he does. It’s getting a little hard to think, with Mike so close to him.

Will really wishes Mike would pull his hand away.

“Right,” Mike whispers, breath ghosting gently over the back of Will’s neck. “Okay. That’s fine. That’s fine.”

Fine, Will thinks. That’s one word for it.

Another clattering. It’s closer this time.

Will freezes.

Jonathan and Nancy are probably about ten minutes out. Twenty if they had to go back to the Wheelers’ for the other car. So they’d probably be fine if they stuck it out here, because the chance of something happening across them now, in the brief period of time where they’re stuck without a ride, in a building equipped with close to nothing that could help, is small.

Small, but not nonexistent.

Will isn’t really feeling inclined to take that chance. “Come on,” he says, then spins on his heel, grabbing Mike’s hand and tugging him in the opposite direction. “Come with me.”

Mike follows easily, stumbling slightly with the sudden movement. “Wh– where are we going?”

“Just come on,” Will says, then tugs Mike around to the back of the store. He yanks open a door, and shoves him inside. “Get in.”

“Whoa,” Mike says, as Will tumbles in behind him. “Will, what–”

“Would it kill you to be quiet?”

“Sorry,” Mike says, then does, at last, fall silent.

Immediately, Will wishes he hadn’t said that. It’s dark in here – even darker than out in the front of the store – and the only noise is the faint hum of a generator, somewhere behind the walls. It’s grating and stilted. Will wonders when the last time it had been repaired was.

Plus, it’s really–

It’s really fucking dark in here.

Will lets out a long, slow exhale, and reaches out to feel for the wall beside him. His palm comes into contact with chipped paint and he follows the shape of it down, lowering himself onto the ground.

“Will?” Mike says, and Will is in half a mind to say that thing about being quiet again, but–

It’s dark. It’s really dark.

“Yeah,” he says, barely audible even to himself over the faint hum of the generator, and the louder hum – demanding, prominent, persistent – of his blood rushing through his ears. “I just– sitting. I’m sitting.”

There had at least been some light out in the front, but this storage closet might as well be a void. It smells vaguely of dust, something stale and unknown and probably untouched for who-knows-how-long. Will takes another deep breath in.

“Where?” Mike asks. “I don’t want to step on you.”

Will cracks a smile. “Here,” he says, and holds a hand up in the air. “Right here.”

There’s a quiet shuffling sound as Mike moves closer, and then Will feels fingertips brushing against his. Mike latches on immediately, gripping tighter onto his hand and sits down in front of him.

Will still can’t see anything – he can’t see anything – but he can feel Mike’s presence like it’s a tangible thing.

Mike could let go of Will’s hand now. Now that he’s found him.

He doesn’t, though.

“Hey,” Mike says, then there’s another faint shuffling noise. “Where are we?”

“Storage closet.”

“Huh. How did you know it was here?”

Will cracks another smile, despite himself. “My mom worked here, remember? For, like, years.”

“Right,” Mike laughs, and then he’s moving closer, knees bumping against knees in the dark. “I forgot. It doesn’t feel like the same place.”

“Tell me about it,” Will sighs. He’s probably breathing in dust and debris and soot and all sorts of gross stuff, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He presses his knees against Mike’s a little harder, just because he can.

“I remember,” Mike starts, readjusting his grip on Will’s hand – fingers interlocked, a firmer grip – “she’d give me free candy from the front counter. Whenever I came in with my parents, I mean. My mom was so confused about why I kept asking to tag along to Melvald’s with her.”

“That’s not fair,” Will laughs. “She never let me have any candy.”

“You were a menace all hopped up on sugar,” Mike points out. “I knew how to behave myself.”

That’s a damn lie, and they both know it. “Liar,” Will says quietly, leaning his head back against the wall. “You’re such a liar.”

“Maybe so,” Mike hums. “But I’m still the one who got free candy, so–”

“Mike!” Will shoves lightly at his knee, and Mike’s answering laugh fills the small space instantaneously. It’s loud – too loud, because they’re supposed to be hiding, goddamnit – but the nagging little voice at the back of Will’s head is vanquished almost as quickly as it came. “Shut up.”

Mike, as always, ignores him. “Why don’t we turn on a light?”

“The fuse is probably blown,” Will responds. “If there’s even a light in this stupid closet.”

“I mean this, idiot,” Mike says, and then clicks the flashlight back on. The batteries must be dying, because it flickers to life weakly, steadying out into a dim yellow-white. “Obviously.”

“Don’t waste the batteries,” Will says at once, trying to grab for it. “Come on, Mike–”

“Jonathan and Nancy will be here any minute and then we can go put in new batteries,” Mike says, holding it easily out of reach. “No point sitting in the dark, right?”

“Mike,” Will tries to protest, but it’s useless. Mike’s made up his mind.

Slowly, and a little far away, Will realizes what Mike is trying to do. He’s not being subtle about it, but subtlety has never been Mike Wheeler’s strong suit. He’s always been exuberant, quick and spontaneous with his actions, and this is no different. Sitting up close, closer than would be strictly necessary in any other situation. Turning the light on, despite the dying batteries. Telling Will about coming here as a kid, all those years ago. Making him laugh. Diffusing the tension.

Jesus, and he’s still holding Will’s hand.

A wave of affection washes over him, sudden and overwhelming enough for Will to feel borderline nauseous.

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. Mike can’t just sit here and touch their knees together and hold Will’s hand, and–

“Look,” Mike is saying, and then he’s holding the flashlight under his chin and grinning. “Don’t I look freaky?”

In all honesty, Mike looks fucking hilarious. The direct light casts long shadows across the dips of his cheekbones, the shapes of his eyelashes distorting wildly as he blinks. “No,” Will snorts, rolling his eyes. “You look ridiculous.”

“Really?” Mike grins, in a way that means he knows just how ridiculous he looks. “Not even a little?” He waggles his eyebrows, and the resulting effect is so comical that Will can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, sharp and sudden and real.

“Mike,” he chides, for the millionth time. “You’re going to kill the battery.”

Mike looks way too pleased with himself. “Worth it,” he says anyway, as he sets the flashlight down. It evens out the sharp angles of his face, now that it’s farther away, lights his cheeks and nose and eyes up into something softer, more open.

Something about the steadiness of Mike’s expression is brighter than any source of light. Suddenly, it’s too much. Suddenly, it’s blinding.

God. He’s so screwed. “For what?”

“Getting you to laugh,” Mike says, simple and easy, like he’s reciting times tables instead of proceeding to turn Will’s entire world upside down on its pathetic little axis.

Will feels his lungs stutter on his next inhale. He looks away. “Don’t do that.”

The gleeful expression falters on Mike’s face. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t,” Will says, “don’t– you’re being so– so–”

Mike looks caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. “So what?”

“So,” Will tries again, and then Mike moves closer, and the difficulty of articulating a halfway decent sentence immediately increases tenfold. “So.”

“So,” Mike echoes, shifting so the side of his thigh is pressed up against the side of Will’s. He’s being slowly backed into the corner, but the thought isn’t terrifying like it might have been five minutes ago. Suddenly, Will is overwhelmed in a completely new way. “So what?”

“Nice to me,” Will gets out. “Stop being so nice to me.”

Mike pauses, then says, incredulously and half-laughing– “What? Why?”

Bad choice of words. “You heard me,” Will says anyway, because he’s nothing if not stubborn. “You’re being too nice.”

“I should hope so,” Mike says. “I mean, you’re my friend.”

Maybe Will is imagining it, but the sentence feels unfinished. Like there’s a second half to it that Mike is keeping for himself: You’re my friend – right?

The obvious answer here is that yes, Mike is his friend. But that answer feels unfinished too, like a lie by omission. Will tries to imagine it, doing these things with anyone else – what it would be like if Dustin was holding his hand, or if it were Lucas sitting next to him this close.

The conclusion he comes to, almost immediately, is that it would be weird.

It would be really fucking weird.

That feels like– something. An admission, maybe. Because the fact of the matter is that things with Mike have always been like this, and they’ve never been like this with anyone else, and Will doesn’t think they can be like this with anyone else without it being the most unsettling thing that’s ever happened to him.

The silence, he realizes, has gone on just a second too long.

“Yeah,” he blurts out at last. “Yeah. Obviously.”

Something settles over Mike’s face. “Will–”

“Forget I said anything,” Will backpedals, a little bit desperate. “Never mind. Be as nice to me as you want.”

Mike bites down on his lower lip. It looks like he’s holding back a smile. “As nice as I want?”

Oh, no.

“Sure,” Will tries. “Do your worst.”

Mike lets out a shaky exhale. He presses in further, leans in closer until their shoulders are almost touching. “How about this?”

“That’s not nice,” Will says weakly. “That’s just an invasion of personal space.”

“Seems pretty nice to me,” Mike mutters under his breath.

Will inhales sharply. “Mike.”

“What?”

“What are you– doing,” Will whispers, stumbling over his words, just slightly, as Mike places a hand on his arm.

Mike’s gaze does not waver. “Is this okay?”

Is it okay? Will thinks his brain might be halfway to leaking out through his ears. This is–

This is–

“Yeah,” he hears himself say. “Yeah. Great.”

“Okay,” Mike whispers. He’s so close now that Will could count all the freckles spattered across his nose, if he wanted to. He could, and the thought is dizzying, dizzying – suddenly, it’s not the claustrophobia that’s making him feel like this. It can’t be, because Mike is in front of him, and he’s so close that Will could just lean forward and–

He could just–

“Mike.” And maybe he’s a bit of a broken record, but he can’t come up with any words other than his name. He clutches at Mike’s knee and meets his gaze and prays – to whatever deity allowed him to get trapped in a storage closet with Mike Wheeler two inches away from his face – that Mike Wheeler will find the courage in him somewhere to close the fucking gap.

He doesn’t, though, which is a sign that the universe must be majorly fucking with him. Not yet, anyway. Not anywhere near as fast as Will needs it to be – if this is what he thinks it is, it’s nowhere near fast enough.

In actuality, what it is is excruciating – the way Will’s heart is beating so loud that he’s sure Mike can hear it, in the proximity. The slow circles Mike is tracing over his other hand – the hand that he’s still holding. He’s so close that Will can discern the warmth emanating off him, the familiar scent of soap, can feel Mike’s eyes trained steadily on his mouth, and yet–

Either Mike is actually moving at a speed of one nanosecond per minute, or time has slowed to a near-stop around them. Mike’s grip on his hand is agonizing, caustic in all the places where they’re touching, each slow circle of Mike’s thumb against his wrist driving him slowly and steadily out of his mind. Do it, Will thinks, like maybe if he thinks it loud enough, Mike will be able to hear him. Do it, do it, do it.

Mike’s lips touch his.

The world stops moving.

It must, anyway. Or maybe it’s just that Will doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore – he doesn’t know if he can find it in him to remember how. All he’s aware of is this: Mike’s hands on his arm, his wrist. Mike’s leg under his own palm, warm and steady and pressed up against him in a smooth, unyielding line. The pressure of the wall behind him, the strands of Mike’s hair brushing against his face, and Mike’s lips – gentle, gentle, gentle, and nowhere near enough.

It’s like Mike is waiting for something. Waiting for Will, maybe.

God, okay.

Fuck it, Will thinks, from somewhere far off in his own head. Fuck it. Fuck this.

“Will,” Mike whispers, pulling back a precious few millimeters, and that’s it. That’s all Will can take.

Will lifts his hand off Mike’s leg, raises it to his wrist and tugs. Mike topples into him with a small gasp, Will falls backwards into the wall, and then they’re kissing.

God. Okay.

Mike steadies himself quickly, braces a hand on the wall behind them and leans in, firm and enthusiastic. His hand, Will notices, faintly and with no small amount of affection, is shaking. Just slightly. Will’s trapped between them again – Mike and the wall – but this time he can’t find it in himself to care even the slightest bit. As if there’s anywhere he’d want to go that wasn’t here, as if he’d want to be somewhere without Mike’s hand carding through his hair, or without his lips moving softly against Will’s own, or the noise he makes when Will presses forward, too fast, too eager, too betrayed by his own fluttering pulse – something like a laugh, trapped deep in his chest.

Suddenly, it’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s–

“Mike? Will?”

Shit.

In a flash, Mike pulls away, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked and breathing like he’s just run a marathon.

Shit.

“Yeah,” Mike calls, voice cracking just slightly on the syllable. “We’re in here!”

Shit.

“So,” Will says, aiming for nonchalance. He fails immediately. His voice cracks too. Great. “That–”

Don’t freak out, he thinks. Please don’t freak out.

Mike, to his credit, is not freaking out.

“Yeah,” Mike says, voice a little high-pitched but surprisingly even. He clears his throat. “Um. Yeah. You were–”

“Yeah,” Will finishes, rather lamely. He’s grinning like an idiot. He doesn’t even need to look at himself to tell. His expression is mirrored, perfectly, flawlessly, brilliantly, on Mike’s own face.

The closet door gets thrown open, and there’s a blinding, sudden light– “What the fuck,” Mike exclaims, squinting and throwing a hand up in front of his eyes. “Nancy?”

Jonathan peers around her shoulder. “What were you guys doing in here?”

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t–

Will can’t help it. He looks at Mike, and they immediately burst into laughter.

Shit.

#hiiii quin so sorry but tumblr ate ur og ask #i did immediately memorize it tho bc i read it and i was like Oh Yes #anyways ik u asked for maybe s5 too #and idk why this is where my mind went #there are a million other s5 scenarios that i could've written #but something about byler kissing in dark closets.... haha #yeah <3 #anyways i hope u like this !!#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fun sized fics #also fun fact for anyone who reads my fics #this was rly close to my og concept for ive come home im so cold #like the third chapter #but that story got away from me so #this isn't the Same but its similar !! kind of.#ok bye

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moss-bride · 10 months

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Koi boi (Lawrence x fem!reader) Chapt:4

Dead dove do not eat.

How do deers mate?

The female doe enters estrus. The male buck enters rut. His horns shed blood lining while her hormones course through her body and shed tissue. Both lose themselves to a dance

She mulls over that weird fact while juggling the decision of her clothes trying for a look that isn't too showy. What will Lawrence wear? She generally saw him as an unkempt man. He will be choosing comfort over looks, she's sure, sweats and a thrown on sweatshirt with a red patterned shirt. Hair tied in the same loose ponytail. That's his usual outfit worn day in and day out.

Now that she thinks about it, does he even change? It doesn't seem it since the clothing that hang on him is always wrinkled.

Even though Lawrence isn't exactly fashionable she intends to impress him.

She chooses a decently short skirt with warm leggings and a long sleeve blouse. Going with something that looks pretty second and keeps warm first. She fights the sleepiness in her eyes and finishes her makeup. (lip balm and eyeliner for now,)

The final touch prior she leaves is perfume. Unlike her clothes, this one is important, a scent can serve as a signature or introduction before she can even say a word. Lawrence is constantly checking out gardening books, it would make sense to single out a flowery or earthy smell.

(she tucks thoughts of grass, horns and decay away for now.)

After much debate she chooses warm Magnolia. She rubs small doses into her neck and wrists, heading out into the dark night.

The hour he chose for them to meetup is oddly late. The streets are empty and free of human milling. Stores are closed, the windows on business buildings are dark. An hour before the bars close and past the time a usual person would be awake.

She's been to The Jackalope once in the past. A kind colleague had invited her out with the rest of the female employees sometime ago. The whole evening was awkward and she never got reinvited but she appreciated the sentiment.

She walks around the corner and makes it there in record time. Nothing changed around the place except the obvious fact that there's far less people. An employee is in the far right, wiping down the bar table, winding down after what must have been a busy night.

She spots the shiny blond hair in the corner, waiting for her. He hasn't ordered drinks yet. She takes a deep breath, gathering her courage, clutches her purse and heads his way. When Lawrence sees her he goes still

Doesn't break contact until she reaches the table.

Wearing his usual clothes as she predicted.

"Lawrence. I'm really happy you asked me out."

She could say 'No one's ever made an effort to know more about me. I feel that there is a chance we might mean something if we play our cards right. I hope -' but that would be idiotic thing to do. Worse, he might find it creepy.

She sits across from him and he nervously flits his eyes from place to place. "I hope you weren't waiting long."

"I wasn't." he assures her. They order drinks. He gets a beer and she does the same, politely sips after his cue. Ignoring the awful taste in her mouth.

He gulps it down halfway, as nervous as she is. Yet they let the silence settle between them. They aren't talkative people and that's what makes her like Lawrence. Others would try to start a forced conversation but he's perfectly fine with the quiet in the beginning.

She tilts in to covertly sniff him. There is that familiar smell emanating from him. Overripe fruit and…decay. She never thought she could stand such a scent but maybe it's the person that makes it tolerable.

Staring at the amber surface of her drink, the light inside the bar bounced off the ice cube to give her a warped expression. She drums her finger on the table. "Is beer your go-to drink?"

He shakes his head. "I don't drink much."

"That shows a good amount of restraint." alcohol can be such a chore to avoid.

She takes a sip as he thinks. Lawrence invited her here for a reason, an intrinsic want to act on the desire to know. It's been taunting him and growing since he started to stalk her. For years he held off, swimming beyond her vision as the whispers and loneliness grew. ( After finding her, He didn't know what to do with a kindred soul. Still has no idea.)

Since asking her to the bar, he was a ball of nerves. This is his first time willingly spent in someone's company.…what questions does he ask? What does he do with his hands except ball them on his lap? He's sweating bullets under his clothes, looking anywhere but her eager eyes. The kindness in them burns because-

He's not a good person.

And if he continues on with this she'll find that out. Part of him imagines a world where he shows her all his perversions and she doesn't turn him away. (she understood the river, can't she understand him too.) His brain knows this is naive. What sane person would want to talk to him if they knew the skeletons in his closet?

Earlier he spent the day switching between clutching his toilet bowl puking until all that was left was bile and smoking half his storage. Neighbors had sent a complaint to the apartment office because of the smell. Bitter burnt leaves and overwhelming rot. 'A skunk orgy' a neighbor muttered as he walked past today.

Poppy milk ridden dreams and nicotine hazed truths that for a singular moment are less daunting. Not that it helps. The high never lasts and he's thrust back into reality. Choking through the hazy smoke to find that it's time to leave. Throwing on what he could find and marching out the door.

Currently, he feels it's too hot in here. He can't breathe-

He takes a couple of breaths to calm the nerves jumping under skin. Slow draws of life that he counts until hitting triple digits, then he calms.

He begs his mouth to come up with something to say. But she doesn't mind his voicelessness. Her serenity eases the worst of his worry

Sensing this inner turmoil in her 'date', She begins her next question to alleviate the pressure. A statement. "So, you are a big reader." Of course he is, why else would he be in the library practically everyday?! She could bang her head against the table with how ridiculous this is.

"I like reading. Fiction and nonfiction. But especially florilegia books, they exist as a curated collection of botanical art." While he talks she keeps her expression tentative and encouraging. Gets the feeling that he's not used to talking so much. "It's an escape. A moment where I can stop being."

She can relate to that. "Florilegia are kind of the same as bestiary books, right? Does that mean you garden?"

He enjoys this question better than the others, visibly perking up. He must be a plant person. "I do. Vines, and shrubs mostly." She wonders the number of plants he takes care of. The location of his garden can be saved for their (hopeful) next date.

Lost in the daydream she almost misses him adding on a whisper. "I like how they need me."

When you are needed you exist to complete a function for necessity sake. She could fit that role. "Being needed can be a wonderful feeling. Makes you feel less alone."

He flushes, seems happy that she understands.

Then he says a strange thing. "They are helpless and can't live without me, it's nice…"

She chooses to ignore that heavy statement in favor of naive delusions

Two borderline strangers, heavily sedated by anxiety and wrapped up in their own world to an almost egotistical degree, attempting to reach across the line of understanding and knowing. He's able to let go of the haunting thought of things going bad to just be there. In this empty bar with her while She leans her chin on her palm, swirling the drink in her hand. Nodding in agreement.

"Yeah. I mean. In my opinion, Not being needed is the closest thing I ever felt to being dead."

His head snaps up and there is an edge of a glare. Too late, she realizes she said some kind of a trigger word. "Death isn't like that at all!"

His voice is surprisingly deep, gone is the forced wispy tone. She sits up straight and glances at the bartender, who's too distracted in the back to hear. Thank the Lord.

His pink face displays a new energy. She winces, apologizes." I shouldn't have brought it up." startled by his sudden exclamation she tries to smooth over the mishap. Not expecting the turn in their conversation at all.

But he seems oddly defensive of a topic others speak on with derision and fear. "You've experienced it..."

He stutters and falls silent. Confessing. "I did." the information breaks her heart.

She reaches across the table and holds his sweaty palm. "I have too." shaking her head she tries to gather composure by freely admitting a personal detail. She doesn't care about her death experience. "That shouldn't be a topic for a first date.," she tries to quickly move on.

It's on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she saw. He recalls that she was an infant when she died and from that, has strange images of unmoving water. He can't reveal that he knows yet.

He notices the bandages on her finger. Thickly layered but the red soaks in a bit.

"You had an accident." She was in her restroom when it happened.

"Oh yeah… I was clumsy and slammed it against a drawer." She lies extra prettily while shifting the hand way. She'll take what really happened to the grave because there is a high chance if she told the truth he'd pity her or look at her with disgust, either way it's a goodbye to a second date.

Lawrence is focused on another side of it. Why underwear? He wants to ask. Can you give me these bandages too? Said underwear he shoved under his pillow. Folded so the blood patch is visible and he can reach to snake it in his palm. It's faded into pink from the amounts of times his tongue brushed and sucked it

He's gazing at the wraps with a need he hopes isn't apparent. She's too sweet. Drawing him in to be consumed by her flame. Helpless bug that he is.

They don't talk much, however, the air between them is one of acceptance. His anxious mind is able to think. His body doesn't need to be stopped from shaking with uncertainty. "What do you do for a living?"

He curtly responds "Warehouse. And you?" But he already knows what she does.

She answers brightly. The job is boring and the men around her joke too often about her going home with them. Suggestive looks they give her make her gag. Lawrence wouldn't do such a thing. He's a gentle soul. She wanted his eyes on her and she got her wish, his cool gaze hardly leaves her face as she talks,

Lined with stress and gray skin.

Instead of testosterone driven frenzy Lawrence is pensive, would never hurt a fly. Maybe it would be more accurate to call him Ferdinand in that sense. Her docile man. "How old are you?" she asks and eagerly observes his pink lips move.

She was right about being in his late twenties, not that it matters, she imagines she'd still be interested if he was batting a hundred. She gives him her own age and he doesn't seem to care.

'Stag' means an adult male deer. A male deer has antlers for defense and to compete with other stags for the claims of a Doe (female deer)

I'll be your Doe. Whatever you need, I'll be. She dazedly thinks as they walk side by side with each other, out the door and into the world.

His hands are in his jacket and so are hers. They should be hand holding, romance movies say that's how a night should end, but she doesn't want to push him. Lawrence might spring away. Stags are demanding things and she needs to make the necessary adjustments to have his company. She swears she won't take what isn't offered

Yet when they arrive at her building doors she can't help but turn to him. A novel expectation that he will initiate a romantic gesture.

"Thank you Lawrence. I had a good time."

His gaze darts. Reluctant to leave her but unsure in showing it. His fingernails bit half moons into his sweaty palm.

She goes up one step so they are the same and cups his face. At first he freezes, ready to pull back. His skin is a bit oily under her thumb, she rubs soothing circles on his cheekbones. Her deer doesn't flee.

The moment she's been waiting for, she inches close and lays a single peck on his lips and lingers, though chaste. Taste of a misplaced sun. Smelling of things rot and sour.

Fur hyde, salt water. She closes her eyes and enjoys the still lips that part in a surprised intake. If you told her she's kissing porcelain instead of a man she would believe you. They are chapped and cold yet she loves the brief peck. It's all she dares to take right now.

"Lawrence…" She puffs his name against his frozen cheek and he shivers.

Her touch and breath burns into his rotten core.

She's silent as he backs off, leaving her at the doorway to her building. Her final smile is soft. Dreamy. Not a goodbye but a confession. "You're wonderful."

He could be mistaken but she's looking at him in a hopeful way, as if he brought her the world. A sight too beautiful to be a lie. He desires so desperately for it to be true. For her face to be one of those rare few in the world that don't use a pretty facade to lie.

Is he as useless as a moth in this situation?

Helplessly drawn to the first sight of distant light on the horizon with the lack of hindsight that once reached he'll be burnt to a crisp in the graze of fire. He hates it.

His throat seizes in confusion. 'You think you can control me?!' He wants to shake her. 'I'm not giving you anything!'

Wants to frighten her for inspiring these emotions in his chest and in the same vein, sink into the hook of understanding.

Lawrence licks his lips, faintly tasting magnolias in hot may. White/green Buds bursting in full bloom. Her enthralling scent.

He decided......

Take her thread! (kidnap)

His plants will bloom and fruit but stay in the confines of a pot. They don't move or utter words of disagreement. He does what he wants without judgment or derision from them. She would go well with his other flowers.Can't stand the thought of her existing without him, leaving him on the steps to continue her life

Leave it for now (+2 more chapters of stalking before kidnapping)

What if her trustworthiness is a lie? A trap set by her because she sensed the things that are wrong with him and is closing the trap door so she can laugh and scoff with the rest of humanity

Sound the alarm and tell everyone he is not normal. It makes him angry. He can't stand the attention

If there ever was such a thing as a baseline for his fractured mind, it is slipping in running currents. He's called to a stall. Yearning to watch her for moments more. The same way one watches a thrown pebbled sink into water.

#lawrence oleander #x reader #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #the price of flesh #dead dove fic #boyfriend to death #btd lawrence #btd2

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soulsoffairlight · 2 months

Note

I love your Radley fanarts! What's the au about?

1. THANK YOU SO MUCH

2. THANK YOU SO MUCH x2 FOR ASKING ME THIS QUESTION AND ENCOURAGING ME TO COME OUT OF MY SHELL

I'm so happy to see that people are interested in my au!!!

I haven't developed it fully, but I can give you what I have so far!!

Warning: yapfest ahead

Note: this is like, a draft of the backstory ig? So it's not done, it may not fit canon much, and characters like Sarge and the baddies aren't present yet

Tl;dr: radley but he's more biology science oriented than tech science oriented and adopted radlynn ig?

I should start off by introducing the general au itself. 'Avidra' is a large worldbuilding/multifandom AU project I've had for years on end, and the project itself is far too bit to explain fully 😭, but one of the main catches is that there is a race of shapeshifter living amongst humans in the au known as 'Tierkno' (TYAIR - knah). In addition, Avidra is the 'singular universe,' where gods from all over the multiverse came together to rule one world after the brain-death of one all-powerful God who left an empty universe behind. As far as Radley and Radlynn go in the flipline section of the AU, that's just about all the Avidra context you need.

In this au, Radley was only one of a group of 'superior Radishes,' aka his family. What set these Radishes out from the rest is that they held a mutation that allowed them to carry cambiregen (essentially the hormone that allows Tierkno to shapeshift), allowing them to take on a humanoid appearance and gain human intelligence, unlike their 'wild' counterparts, the radish enemies we see in the games.

These Radishes, living on one of Avidra's moons known as Calyx, fought fiercely with the headworld of Avidra in an attempt to overthrow them and restart the universe completely from scratch. They believed that if they could wipe out Avidra and return to it to its initial state of vast emptiness, they could build what they believed to be the 'optimal universe.'

However, in order to protect Avidra from this mass destruction (threatened by the technology these Radishes had), the head goddess of Avidra, named Oblivion, sent a mass freeze to the moon of Calyx... wiping out the 'superior Radishes' in the process... all except for one.

And that was Radley.

Everything was gone, it seemed. He felt lost and aimless, having nothing to refer to that could help him pick up again ... and he thought he lost all hope. That was, until, he found one of Oblivion's feathers that had been dropped. He quickly found out that this feather gave him the ability to open a portal to Avidra itself... and that there pretty much saved his entire life. With this, he could find a way to thaw the thick layer of ice that had frozen over the underground lab that the Radishes used. And at the time, that was his only priority.

He was able to safely shelter himself in the lab, and read up on the resources left behind. And as that happened, the freeze finally came to an end. The other creatures the Radishes had shared the moon with began to restore, and it made Radley wonder. What was life like in Avidra?

He quickly designed himself a disguise to blend in so he could make way to Avidra again, this time to observe the life that was there, taking some specimens home as well. He saw the plants there that just sat in the ground, seemingly lifeless... and it made him think about his family's original goal. If the plants were so... lifeless here, unlike himself and his smaller counterparts... then something must be wrong.

Radley's knowledge of life on Avidra grew increasingly complete. He was able to teach himself how to read... and at rapid rates as well due to his nature as a plant. He studied all sorts of specimen he could find, mostly insects, reptiles, and these... lifeless plants. He learned that his ability to 'see' was not what sight truly was at all, and that he relied on a combination of gravitropism, phototropism, and sometimes tactile methods (using roots) to observe his surroundings. And that was when he realized that just maybe the answer to his fallen family's goal was hidden in Avidra's life. So many species with so many abilities... maybe he just needed to find a way to gain these abilities. And with the resources left behind, he was able to pick up the pieces and do just that.

Using a method that was sort of slow yet extremely effective, Radley began to apply the DnA of some species he found to himself. He took some plants he found thriving in caves without any light and took some of their traits, and he found that he could photosynthesize without any light. He then found some ants and took their traits, later finding himself able to lift extremely heavy objects with ease. Finally, he found a lizard and took its traits, and he grew sharper teeth and claws, alongside a long, vine-like tail similar to the leaves on his head. It was then that he knew what he was called to do: become the 'ideal organism' and take over Avidra, just like the Radishes intended.

As he started to move toward human and Tierkno civilizations for observations, he noticed that they had a much easier time performing close combat... meanwhile, he could only really fight from a range, as his poor vision didn't allow for much. Then he saw Tierkno... and he knew they were perfect. If he could get one in his possession, apply his own DnA to them, thus passing all his mutated abilities in the process, he could have someone to assist him in not only close attacks when needed with access to the abilities he already has, but to blend in with the rest.

He continued to watch silently from afar, until one day he spotted a blind, seemingly tierkno, 9-year-old girl named Aster sitting next to some crates containing specimens he was trying to take back home with him. And he thought that was a perfect opportunity. If he just cured this girl's blindness, he'd gain her trust like the flip of a switch... and he could go through with his plan. He had already been doing research on how to care for tierkno.

He approached Aster, and he told her that if she could just sit and guard the crates for just a few more hours, he'd cure her blindness. The girl, whose life had seemingly crumbled apart since she became blind, took on the request without question. Soon, Radley took the tierkno back to Calyx to give her what he promised... and to take her under his wing. As Aster vanished, her brother, Zak, noticed near immediately.

Radley did end up curing her blindness with a method he'd found in the resources his family had left behind. And Aster was overjoyed. She became extremely loyal to him, and he felt some sort of connection to her... a familiar one. And so he adopted her, and together they agreed that her name from then on would be Radlynn.

Radley raised Radlynn, educating her and caring for her the best as he possibly could. But one day, when Radlynn accidentally cut her arm on a sharp rock, leaving a deep gash and didn't notice, Radley realized that there was a side effect to this method he didn't consider. Testing his theories, he took her in to stitch up the wounds without any form of numbing or something of the likes. While she was really scared about it, she... wasn't feeling any pain. This was pretty dangerous for her... but at the same time, it would make his plans significantly easier. He figured that if he watched her very closely to make sure she didn't get hurt, he could keep her safe while still keeping that side effect.

From that point on, the plan began to unfold. It began with some smaller experiments to slowly funnel into the main one-- Radlynn was scared, but not unwilling. It started with him applying small genetic samples of a certain Tierkno species he had managed to get his hands on, and she grew scenting glands on her neck and arms that she could use to recreate just about any scent-- a unique ability of this species that had piqued his interest. He was fascinated. He trained her to control it.

His next experiment was definitely more stressful for Radlynn-- but again, she was determined to push through for him. He replaced her left forearm with a false one-- something left behind by his family. It could easily be disguised as a real one and functioned just like one, even being able to experience touch, except it was bionic and had extremely sharp claws. Radlynn adapted quickly and was even able to teach herself some interesting strategies with it, something he was very impressed by.

Everything seemed to be going well until the main experiment finally took place. When he applied his own DnA to give her a radish form, it worked... to extents beyond his intentions. The cambiregen (reminder: tierkno hormones giving them ability to shapeshift) had combined with this DnA aggressively, and he accidentally created a reckless, 10-foot-tall beast that tried to attack him. He was quick to corner her, but he still started to panic. But then he got an idea. He was able to gain control over the beast by tricking it into falling into obedience any time he said the name "Aster" to it. And it worked. He had turned a dangerous mistake around to his favor. He spent weeks training Radlynn and her new form, and everything was going just as planned.

Hearing of a group of people that had a life force surplus that he could take advantage of (Papa louie and em), he set that as his first target. He sent Radlynn to capture Papa Louie and his customers+workers, and she was a fierce fighter. She managed to capture every single one... except for three. That was Ember, Olivia, and Hacky Zak (her brother). These 3 had unique abilities that allowed them to resist capture, for they were Monster (yes, msm) tierkno. Olivia, the Humbug tierkno, could simply zip into another dimension to escape, and she could pull Hacky into one as well regardless of where he was due to some sort of mind link. Meanwhile, Ember was some sort of Fire monster (not a tierkno, just straight up monater) similar to a Candelavra made of wax that could reach temperatures of up to 3,000+ °F giving that conditions could allowed, and she could take the shape of practically anything (she had decided to take on a human form and use her resistance to fire to help save people.) And so, these 3, having an ability to communicate through a dimension only accessible by Monsters, teamed up to rescue everyone... including Radlynn.

Olivia and Ember had a rough time trying to simply free everyone, much less get to Radley.. because of Radlynn. She was a fierce fighter with overwhelming indurance and a bold attitude that refused to step down.

But when Hacky came about, everything changed. Memories of the life she had left behind had hit her like a train wreck. She hadn't seen him in years. She was 9 when she last saw him ... and she had just turned 19. 10 whole years.

The three were able to contain Radlynn as they freed everyone and eventually fought Madish, resulting in his defeat... while poor Radlynn watched.

He was someone so important to her... so of course, she snapped. She morphed into her radish form, screeching and destroying things in the area in enraged grief. Everyone was horrified, and they were convinced they'd just die right then and there.

Until Hacky called out her real name, and the beast fell still for a few seconds... before it approached him slowly, falling to his feet.

... while Hacky still really hated Madish for what he'd done to her ... he had to admit, he was a really good father.

After word had spread of the rescue, a group known as Starlane assisted Radlynn in starting her life up again.

They were impressed with the amount of education she had received behind closed doors despite being gone for so long, and determined her ready for college. She was moved into an apartment with a new roommate named Elaine who still supports her through her healing process to this day. As Radlynn realized that her ability to see took away her ability to feel pain, she began to cover her eyes at all times and adjust to getting around without sight. Being blind was much better than not being able to feel pain, she realized. She began to study horticulture in college… and while she still misses Radley dearly and is still healing from the traumatic memories she has of the experiments, she’s made significant progress in adjusting to her new life. She still has long ways to go, but that doesn’t stop her. She lives the large chunk of her teen years she didn’t get to live through her youthful enthusiasm, and many find her to be a beacon of nothing but good vibes.

So yeah, that's the backstory so far!! I hope you like it :3 and a fun Lil piece of trivia, it was heavily inspired by the Powerman 5000 album "Tonight The Stars Revolt," particularly this song:

#papa louie 3 #papa louie fandom #papa louie #radley madish #radlynn #alternate universe #cringe and free #cringe and proud #avidra au #avidra #sci fi au #asks #metal pipe asmr #writing #flipline #flipline fandom #answered #flipline radlynn

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jesse-cosay · 11 months

Note

Kiss as comfort

Jesslake

This got a bit off track, and I'll do the rest tomorrow. Ya'll feel free to send as many as ya like! Also feel free to be as specific as you want, my writing requests are always open, the prompt list was just,,,, to prompt ppl. Anyways, hope you can enjoy this, it was so incredibly self indulgent.

It was night. Lake wasn't usually the type to be a light sleeper. It would take an earthquake to wake them up. Maybe even more than that.

So to find theirself awake in the middle of the night? Yeah. It was a little disconcerting.

The surprise faded pretty quickly when they realized Jesse was no longer beside them.

It'd been awhile since the train. A month now, maybe. The Cosays were still trying to figure out sleeping arrangements. Clearing out the attic so Lake could have their own room. Lake was perfectly content sharing with Jesse, for the time being. But they couldn't help but feel excited to have something to call their own.

That wasn't the problem, though. Lake had a tendency to wake up a little after Jesse. The lack of his presence enough to stir them from their sleep and have them patting his side of the bed. Searching for a hand or reassurance.

If Lake was up at an odd hour, it was because Jesse was up, too.

They slowly stepped out of bed, his room empty. Maybe he had to go to the bathroom. Or grabbed a glass of water. Or something. Maybe it wasn't a big deal. Or anything at all.

... That wouldn't stop them from checking. Just in case.

The lights were off downstairs, but Lake could just barely make out Jesse's frame in front of the couch. It was just like him to be most comfortable on the floor.

He didn't seem surprised as they sat down next to him. Careful not to disturb him. His arms were wrapped around his knees. His head buried. Lake really hoped he wasn't crying.

"You okay?" Lake leaned into him, nudging his shoulder with theirs.

"Maybe." He muttered, setting his chin on top of his arms so he could see them better. Giving a soft smile. His reassurance would have been more comforting if Lake wasn't a little worried he was doing it for them.

"Wanna talk? About it?" Lake was bad with words. Always had been. Jesse never seemed too bothered by their ineptitude, but it did bug them.

"There was this- it's not a big deal. We broke up ages ago." Jesse admitted. "I don't even like him any more."

They hadn't talked about this type of thing before. Lake had sort of assumed Jesse wasn't interested in it. Dating. Was it dating? Or just romance in general- was this an ex?

"So why are you hiding alone in a dark room about it?"

Jesse huffed, a half laugh. "I don't really know. I guess I just miss it, a little. Having someone who listens to me and holds my hand. Who wants to do stuff with me and kiss sometimes. It was just kind of... nice."

Except Jesse had that. Sort of.

Lake listened to him. Did things with him. Held his hand. What was so different about this guy?

"Don't we do that stuff?"

Jesse buried his head back in his arms. "Yeah, we do. I just kind of miss the extra comfort. And kissing."

"So, your ex-"

"He isn't- we weren't, like, dating." He explained, flustered. "It was more like a- a qpr?"

Lake squinted at him. "Is that a word?"

"It's an acronym!"

They frowned. "What does it mean?"

"It was like- we weren't dating, really. We just wanted to have a relationship that we defined." He seemed distressed. Unable to properly explain the idea.

Lake thought they understood. When they were told they were a girl. Or had to be a girl or a boy- they'd chosen neither. Who they were wasn't one of the regular options. And it wasn't easy to explain. They just were.

So Jesse didn't want a relationship in the standard way. Just like Lake didn't identify in the standard way. It made sense. Neither of them was any good at fitting in boxes.

"So he's not exactly an ex, in the normal way... But you guys aren't together?"

"Yeah."

"And you don't miss him, but you miss- the idea of that." Lake had never had something like that too miss. Had never so much as kissed anyone.

"Yeah."

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. "I think I'm just moping. I had a bad dream and- and there's someone I would like to- to do that with."

"The qpr?" It was too dark to really search his face for an answer, not that Lake wouldn't try either way. Jesse had lots of friends. But a relationship that was outside of the norm- how could they even begin to pin down who this person was? They wouldn't know what to look for.

He nodded. Or at least Lake was pretty sure he was nodding.

"If it's any consolation, I think they'd be lucky to try it out with you." Lake offered. "I know I'd feel lucky."

His head whipped up from where he'd rested it back against the couch. "You- you would?"

"Yeah, I think that sounds nice." Lake fiddled with their hands. It was a bit too honest of them, but they were always honest with Jesse. "I don't know if I'd like a- a standard relationship. I guess. But making it up as we go? It gets to be whatever we want it to be. I like that."

They laughed, hoping that the shadows hid their nervousness, "I mean it's a lot like what we have, right? And I like what we've got, a lot, too."

"Can I kiss you?"

"What?"

"Oh- oh my god, I'm sorry, I just- I didn't mean to say that- just forget it-" Jesse back-peddled frantically, putting some physical distance between him and Lake.

"No, no, no- c'mere, you idiot." Lake tugged at his sleeve, blindly pressing a kiss to his face.

It landed on his cheek and was enough to get him to stop stuttering over excuses.

"When I said I liked the idea or whatever, I meant with you." Lake clarified. Suddenly feeling just as lost as he probably had now that he'd clammed up on them.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So-"

Lake kissed him again. This time a bit more aware of where exactly they were kissing.

Jesse didn't argue, smiling at them brightly as they pulled away.

It was a much better look than when Lake had first found him. Curled up into a little ball.

"Do you wanna talk about- this?" He offered.

And yeah. They kind of did. But not at four am. "We'll talk later. Come back to bed with me?"

Lake offered their hand, helping Jesse to his feet.

"Yeah, okay. Okay."

They held hands as they tip-toed upstairs. Walking as quietly as possible as they slipped back into Jesse's room.

"You think you'll sleep okay? You mentioned a bad dream."

Jesse hummed, sounding far too content. "I think I'll be fine."

"If you say so." They kissed him once more, this time on the forehead. Jesse was all too eager to return the gesture. Nearly smacking himself on their chrome cranium.

They both snickered into their blanket, Lake clumsily pressing another kiss against his cheek. "Sweet dreams, casanova."

"Good night, Lake. I love you."

"I love you, too."

#qpr #jesslake qpr #IM SORRY I HAD TO #infinity train #jesse cosay #lake infinity train #infinity train lake #jesse infinity train #infinity train jesse #infinity train book 2 #infinity train book two #jesslake #yellow's writing #ask #this is so awkward and dumb #but theyre my awkward dumb idiots okay #so shut uP #Kiss

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avisteliterature · 1 year

Text

A Good Dream

Alfonse (Fire Emblem) x Reader)

RATING: General

GENRES: Hurt/ Comfort/ Fluff

WORD COUNT: 1,121

SUMMARY: Sometimes it feels like your time in Askr is a dream. Alfonse tries to prove to you that it isn't.

Alfonse's footsteps echo in the empty hallway as he heads towards the mess hall to sneak in a quick late night snack. The moment he goes through the doors, he finds a figure clad in darkness sitting at the table closest to him. Not having expected to find anybody here, his thoughts immediately go towards ridiculous conclusions like the one before him is a ghost or something, and he yelps out of instinct.

The figure jumps at the sound of his voice, letting out a short scream of their own. It's only then that Alfonse recognizes the one before him as none other than you, and he places a hand over his chest to calm his racing heart. "You scared me!" He accuses.

"I scared you?! You're the one that suddenly screamed behind me without warning!" you shoot back, equally accusatory.

You stare at one another in silence as you process the situation before huffing and shaking your heads in fond exasperation at both of your unbecoming behaviour. The two of you are a bit more meek now that your fears have subsided, and you both utter out a small but sincere apology to each other. Alfonse glances behind you, finding a small candle placed atop the table beside a mug of what he can only assume to be your preferred drink of choice.

You follow his gaze, note what he's staring at, and then bring your attention back to him. "Do you want some?"

"I can make my own," he answers, but you stop him before he could leave to fix himself a mug.

"Allow me," you insist, and Alfonse has no choice but to relent.

You hum, seemingly satisfied, and you leave him alone for a moment. The prince decides to take a seat and waits for you to return. You had taken your own mug with you, he belatedly notes. He idly wonders to himself if perhaps you had just finished up, in which case, he was probably holding you up. He hears footsteps approaching, prompting him to look up and finds you walking towards him with two mugs in hand. Apparently you had gone to refill yours while you were at it.

"Thanks," he offers his gratitude and accepts the drink. The two of you sit together in silence for a moment, taking occasional sips from your respective mugs before Alfonse decides to break that peace with a concerned question. "Is there something keeping you up?"

You offer a distracted hum. "Mm, I guess." You don't provide any further explanation or insight and instead change the focus to him instead. "Why are you still up?"

Alfonse sighs. "I wanted to get some more training in for the day. I feel as though I'm falling behind the more recently summoned Heroes."

"I promise you, Alfonse, that isn't true at all." You're quick to jump in and offer your thoughts on the matter. "You've been working really hard. I can see that—anybody with eyes can see that—and your efforts show in your accomplishments both on and off the battlefield. You become even more fine of a prince with each passing day."

"I-I, uh... thanks..." He's grateful that the mess hall is so dark. At least this way, you won't be able to see his bashful smile, accompanied by an embarrassed blush that reaches the tip of his ears. He doesn't know if you're truly sincere in your compliments or merely saying what he wants to hear in an attempt to comfort him, but he can't deny that your words made his heart leap in his chest.

Silence stretches over the two of you once again, the atmosphere a bit more awkward than before. The Askran prince glances over towards you. You seem to be staring intently at your half-empty mug. He wants to ask you about what's on your mind, but he knows that you won't share so easily. He knows how difficult it is for you to open up to him, and there's nothing he can do except patiently wait for you for whenever you were ready to share.

To his surprise, you actually speak up and lay out the worries in your heart. "I was remembering my home."

"Do you miss it?" He asks.

You shake your head. "Not really, no," you answer without missing a beat.

A sense of guilt and shame washes over Alfonse when he finds himself relieved at your response. He already understands that you have your own circumstances for not wanting to go back home, and although it's a pitiful kind of sentiment, he can't help but feel kind of happy over it. It would mean that you would be less likely to go back home and leave him alone in Askr, but he knows that such thoughts would be considered greedy and selfish, so he never voices them out loud.

"..." You fall quiet once again. You gather your thoughts one by one before slowly explaining yourself, your gaze not once leaving the mug in your hands. "Sometimes, I wonder if this is all a dream. Like, if I'm really here, or if all of this is really happening. Sometimes, when I go to sleep, I'm scared that when I open my eyes again, I'll wake up in my old bed and go back to the life I had before coming here to Askr."

You stop talking after that, allowing him a moment to let your words sink in. The moment they do, he reaches out to hold your hand, prompting you to look up at him with inquisitive eyes. "How does my hand feel to you?"

You bring your gaze down to the hand over yours. "It... feels warm..." you answer with a tinge of embarrassment.

"Then it's proof that you're here. That warmth is proof that this—" Alfonse squeezes your hand to emphasize his point, "—is real." Without even realizing it, he ends up leaning closer towards you. "This is real..." he repeats, bringing his voice down to a whisper, making what he says seem far more intimate. "...If it wasn't, then I would have been dreaming a very good dream ever since you came here."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can't find the words to respond. Your cheeks become pink, and you avert your gaze. Even though Alfonse shouldn't be able to see your expression well because of the dark (the candle does little to light the scene), you still feel compelled to hide your face.

"Does this feel like a dream to you?" Alfonse questions.

You hesitate, still trying to collect yourself. "Sometimes, yes... but... as you said, it is a very good dream... and I wouldn't mind living in it for longer..."

#Fire Emblem #Fire Emblem Heroes #FEH #Alfonse #F: Fire Emblem #C: Alfonse (Fire Emblem)#R: General #G: Fluff #alfonse x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #avisteliterature

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spaceorphan18 · 1 year

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Scenes from December (15/24)

Klaine Advent Day Fifteen : Pump

***

December, 2039

Kurt’s weekend morning started out as any other; a homemade latte with two espresso shots and a pump of vanilla, scrambled eggs with toast, and his seat at the kitchen table where he could scroll through the New York Times and Washington Post on his phone. He grimaced, however, at the fact that he had left his reading glasses on his nightstand next to his bed, and either had to get up to get them, or resign himself to enlarging the font on his phone.

Unlike usual, however, it was a quiet morning. Blaine and Tracy had gotten up early so they could visit colleges around the city - unlike her sister, Tracy wanted to stay closer to home, and possibly save money by staying with them instead of trying to find a place of her own. Kurt opted to stay home - he could use the time to clean and catch up on a little work and generally enjoy the empty house.

Only, the house wasn’t completely empty. Dragging herself from her old bedroom was Katie, wrapped up in a blanket, eyes puffy and red and completely sleep deprived. Once they had moved her out to Boston, Kurt hadn’t expected her home all that much - but she had shown up late last night, in tears over a broken relationship, and in what felt like an oddly circular moment in his life, Kurt welcomed her back with comforting arms, even if she insisted she didn’t want to talk about it.

Kurt motioned for her to have a seat - but kept quiet. It broke his heart to see her in so much pain. First loves were hard. First break ups even harder. Kurt couldn’t say that he really liked the guy all that much - and for her benefit, he was glad this might be the end. But it wasn’t his place to say his opinion. Kurt (and Blaine) had always tried to allow the girls to make mistakes on their own so they could grow from them.

“It’s over,”she said softly, her voice full of resignation. “We talked about it all last night, and there’s no coming back. We’re done.” She sat in her old chair, placing her head squarely down on the table. “All that time we spent together -- we were going to go backpacking in Europe next summer -- all of it just gone now. Just done.”

“Oh, honey.” Kurt leaned over to rub her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“Well, apparently everything everyone ever told me was right,” Katie said, a bitterness in her voice. “No one finds who they’re supposed to be with at age fifteen -- except you and dad and your perfect marriage.”

“Hey now,” Kurt responded, eyeing her hard. “First of all, I was seventeen when I met your dad. Secondly, your dad and I broke up, twice, in college because at your age - you barely have a sense of who you are, let alone what you actually want or need from a relationship. And thirdly, we hardly have a perfect marriage. I don’t know if you’re aware of this - but your dad drives me crazy.”

Katie sat up, interest piqued. “Really?”

Kurt nodded. “Really. Why do you think I’m not out with Dad and Tracy right now?”

“Because Tracy knows the two of you are more irritating together?” It was a gentle tease, but Kurt still arched an eyebrow at her, which got her to smile. “Okay, why?”

“Because sometimes the two of us need some space,” Kurt said. “Your dad needs to have a television or radio or something on in every room he’s in. He always leaves all the cupboards open. And when he shaves, he seems to refuse to clean out the sink. And there’s the perpetual war we’ve fought for the past three decades over what temperature the house should be at. It all drives me crazy. And I drive him crazy, too. Apparently he still doesn’t appreciate the value of a little bronzer nor does he understand the importance of cheesecake in my life.

Katie lets out a little laugh. “I guess I never really thought about it. It was just… the two of you being the two of you.”

Kurt nodded. “Yup. And those little idiosyncrasies are also why I love him. Look, I get it. Relationships are hard, and when they don’t work, even harder. I know you can’t see this now - but either you’ll work it out, or you won’t. Maybe you’ll find someone who you find is worth the effort. Maybe you’ll find that being on your own is a valid choice, too. But right now, it’s okay to feel how you do.”

Katie let out a sad little sigh. “What I really would like now is some ice cream. Is that weird?”

Kurt laughed. “No. But we don’t have any now because your dad’s greatest enemy in the world right now is sugar. However, we can go to that waffle place that’s close by. They have excellent French toast, and it’s my treat. What do you say?”

Katie smiled, warmly. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He knew it’ll take a while before her heart’s fully mended. But at least this was a good first step.

“Good. Then we can pick up a cheesecake on the way home - because, god, it’s been a month and your dad is crazy.”

#klaine advent 2022 #s.o. writes things #glee fic #klaine fic #the years don't even seem like real years anymore

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bittybeanie · 2 years

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spirits and such office dog

the more i think about reigen having an office dog the more i go feral over it. the possibilities are so soft. i mean just think about it.

just the general vibe would be so good like- i always picture the spirits and such office as a place where not a whole lot of work gets done and it's mostly just the crew hanging out and listening to classical music while they pretend to work and adding a very chill dog to that? impeccable vibes

can't decide if a tiny dog or a big dog would be better bc on the one hand a tiny dog curling up in reigen's lap like a cat while he works? kill me now that's so cute!! but also having a big dog sit across people's feet or next to the couch so they can pet the dog while they explain their problems?? the viBES!!

if somebody's allergic or just doesn't like dogs he turns to serizawa like "i have a very important job for you." and serizawa salutes like he's about to take on a battle but then just scoops the dog up and walks into the other room

(the idea is for him to come back but serizawa appreciates the opportunity to listen to the client stories somewhere he can't be Perceived. so he "keeps the dog company" while he listens in from the other room and reigen comes in when the client is done to hear what serizawa thinks)

also the thought of all reigen's neighbors thinking he's just walking a dog normally before realizing he's always in a suit and they don't see him come back for hours and hours and they start wondering where he's going that he needs a dog AND a suit at the same time

taking the dog outside throughout the day gives him an opportunity for smoke breaks where mob can't see him (even after/if he quits, he appreciates the chance for some fresh air and a change of scenery). he leans against the wall with one leg crossed in front of the other with the end of the leash around his wrist and his hand in his pocket while he just lets the dog wander and say hi to people that walk past. (i am. so very gay for the image of this.)

when they go out for field jobs he pats the dog on the head and tells it to "hold down the fort" every. single. time.

i'm not sure if the cafe above their office is like- run by them or if it's a separate business but either way i love the idea of whoever's up in the cafe coming down during breaks to pet the dog.

the dog going absolutely batshit the first time dimple shows up and it takes everybody a minute to figure out what the problem is bc they're so used to seeing him.

the dog eventually gets used to him, which means it also stops barking when there's a Haunted Object around, which reigen figured out was a pretty handy thing. he's gone long enough without it that it's not a big deal, but he still trains it with nonverbal commands to bark when he knows something is haunted bc. the theatrics of it all. the best actor that he doesn't have to pay (except in lots of treats once the client leaves). and it's not like him moving his hands around is all that conspicuous bc i mean have you seen this man? the hardest part is helping the dog figure out when not to bark

i remember reading that one of mob's hobbies is making dogs float?? and just. ever so slightly hovering the dog above the ground and zooming it around. it might freak the first time but after that it's just like how dogs stick their head out the windows of cars and a great time is had by all.

everybody accepts that the dog is mostly reigen's but the others take it home for a night sometimes, and as much as reigen loves the dog he's thankful for the break. probably not mob or ritsu bc of their parents but serizawa takes it bc the dog laying on his chest helps him sleep, and it's not like teru's parents are around to tell him not to when it makes his apartment feel less empty.

just. please give reigen a therapy dog. he deserves it.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #headcanons #my writing #genuinely not sure how to tag this #so i won't add any characters #definitely inspired by uu-chan #been thinking bout the omake a lot

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sunlight-in-venice · 3 months

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Prayer on a Monday night

I shout at the skies: you gave me this disease, so why won’t you just take me out once and for all? I pray to you everyday and ask for the pain to go away, but it won’t. You gave me this disease, why couldn’t you just give me something else to make it disappear? Send a bus or a virus. A knife or a gun. A mass destruction weapon or a pill that actually works. God, just send me a man who’s brave enough to smother me with his feather pillow instead of watching me waste away in bed.

Someone once told me suicidal people are not allowed in heaven. So let me go now and, when I get to the pearly gates, deny me entrance like all the others defeated before me. I beg you to do your job and cast me away, I do not deserve to become an exception. I ask for gentleness instead of forgiveness. It’s not a matter of pride, that’s definitely not my sin. I just happened to have been totally and utterly unprepared. Nobody told me it was meant to be this hard to fight a war I never enlisted to. I shall accept my fate, no complaints and no defying. Put me on that boat through the Styx and I will not oppose your decision whatsoever. Just send me downstairs and accommodate me on the rightful cage, because I’m tired of roaming around through earth with no place to go.

I’ve thought a lot about my destination so that you don’t think this isn’t a thoughtful decision. I thought a lot about hell. I believe hell is very human and probably very full. But, also, hell is right here, inside of my head. Hell sounds like the habit of drowning yourself in pills so that you can wake up in the morning or go back to sleep at night. Hell is time and its refusal to heal. But hell is, too, timeless and eternal, because it’s a cycle that never ends. Sometimes I think hell is just a joke to scare me into keeping a life that I wish I didn’t have. Maybe hell is the escape. Maybe it’s just the place where I pay for the lack of love I have for life. Maybe it’s salvation or damnation, or even both at the same time. Maybe it’s emptiness. I hope it’s emptiness, because I’m already full of all these awful things that constantly crawl from my heart to my brain.

I’m content with my judgment, I just can’t wait. The elders say that’s the problem of my generation: impatience. Some scholars call it anxiety, but I truly don’t care for names anymore. I was born with the weight of a monster on my shoulders and maybe, just maybe, death can actually do us part. It’s like this big grizzly bear made out of shadows and osmium that mounts in my back like a little kid playing with its parents. It doesn’t matter where you are, but it matters what you’re carrying inside. I carry too much of something that’s not mine. I didn’t ask to be here. I didn’t ask to be like this. I didn’t ask to be saved.

#tw sui ideation #writing #personal #spilled ink #feelings #female writers #writers on tumblr #writblr #writeblr #writerscommunity #writers and poets #poetry

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justsleepyrune · 9 months

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@thedeafprophet

This isn't For anything, I just. had a funny idea and couldn't let it go. Enjoy a jamie slug day >:)

General rating | Éadaoin Blank, Jamie Awnings, Mish-mish the Cat | 1579 words |

Éadaoin and Mish-mish were on an adventure. The family cat had been given careful instructions to watch her while Suzy was shopping. Mostly that meant wandering around the small park, going to find their favorite bench. It was the best bench for sitting. It was quiet, it was comfortable, it was the best place to throw breadcrumbs to pigeons, and Éadaoin had even brought Bijou along, her little stuffed slug that Baba had made her.

Bijou was yellow and purple. Bijou was the best. Suzy had even stitched him a little ruffled collar, so he could be very fancy. Éadaoin had a lot of stuffed animals, Baba always liked making them, little dollies and stuffies with beaded eyes and embroidered hearts. He said it helped him think. Éadaoin just liked to have them all.

“This way,” Mish-mish instructed, ducking between her legs as she guided her. Éadaoin knew where to go, but she let her lead anyway. Sometimes she went the wrong way and still ended up in the right spot. It was pretty neat.

There, her favorite bench. Except something wasn’t right. Instead of being empty, ready for her to sit and maybe feed a few pigeons. A redhead was sitting down on her bench, humming a little tune to themself as they set down their bag.

Mish-mish paused her walk, fluffy orange tail flicking back and forth as she considered what to do. “We ought to tell them to leave,” she meowed after a moment of thought. “That’s our spot.”

Éadaoin nodded. Bijou needed to sit. She walked up to the redhead, putting her hands on her hips, Bijou’s tail clutched carefully in her fist. She couldn’t sign in her pose, but it made her look pretty scary, she thought. “Excuuse me. You can’t sit on my bench.” She shook her head, clicking her tongue like Baba always did. “This is my bench.”

“This isn’t your bench. You can not own a bench.” The redhead huffed, setting down the book that they’d been about to open. “Besides, I sit on this bench. Quite often. I have a book to read.” They pointed down at the book, as if it proved that they had a right to sit there.

Mish-mish ducked underneath the bench, silent as a shadow. Coward.

Éadaoin frowned, shaking her head again. “I don’t wanna share my bench though.”

“Well, neither do I. Perhaps you could go, hm? Find another bench.” They stuck their nose up, gesturing to the other side of the park. “Look, over there. A perfectly serviceable bench. Just for your enjoyment.”

“You use lots of big words.”

“Why, yes, I do. I’ve been told I have a talent for them.”

She sighed, slumping her shoulders and staring dramatically at the sky. “I guess I’ll share my bench.”

They wrinkled their nose, looking down at her, before moving their bag to block any place that she could sit. She took a deep breath, mustering all of her strength, before yanking the bag to the ground. It toppled, another book flopping out with all the energy of a dead fish that had slipped out of Suzy’s hands. The redhead grit their teeth, bending down to grab the bag, clutching it to their chest.

Éadaoin took the moment’s distraction to crawl onto the bench, grinning smugly. She was pretty smart.

Inching as far away from her as they could without leaving the bench, the redhead opened their book again, a rather snide hum escaping them. Éadaoin swung her legs back and forth, content with the silence.

For a few moments anyway.

After a moment, Bijou was bored, so she began to let him fly through the sky, making a soft whirring noise as he soared. The redhead glanced over, then pointedly looked away, clearing their throat as they turned the page.

Attention drawn again, Éadaoin watched them. She swung her head to the side, trying to turn it as much as possible, so she could almost flip her view of them upside down. “Why’re you so short?”

“I am not short,” they glared. “You are short. You’re tiny.”

“Well, yeah, ‘cause I’m a kid. Kids can be short. You’re like already ten, so you can’t be short anymore.” She looked at them solemnly. “That’s just science.”

They paused. Seventeen different emotions passed across their face. For some reason, they seemed annoyed. “I’m not ten. I’m a fully grown adult.”

“How old are you then, huh?” She pushed down Bijou’s face, making him frown.

“I am a perfectly respectable twenty-seven, I’ll have you know.”

“That’s a stupid age,” she told them, quite triumphantly. Mish-mish’s tail flicked against her ankles. It sorta tickled.

“You’re a child,” they muttered, pressing their fingers to their temple. Their face was all scrunched up funny. “You’re a child. I’m arguing with a literal child. I’m being insulted by a literal child. What have I come to? Have I truly sunk this low?”

“Your face looks funny,” she helpfully told them. “You look like your tummy hurts. Are you hungry? When I’m hungry, then my tummy hurts, an’ I get food an’ it’s all better!”

They looked up to the sky, pretty dramatically. “Whatever I did, I apologize. Save me.” Éadaoin wasn’t sure who they were talking to. It wasn’t like there was anyone around. “Was it last night? An accident. I don’t deserve this.”

“Why’re you talkin’ to yourself?” She stuck out her bottom lip, huffing.

“Hadst thou no poison mix’d, no sharp ground knife,” they stopped, looking down again at her, opening their mouth and staring at her. “I’m not! I’m just talking! It’s called a soliloquy!”

Éadaoin considered. “I don’t even know what that is. What’s your name?”

“I— Jamie. Jamie Awnings.”

She studied them for a moment. They had dark circles under their eyes, like Baba. They looked tired. Mean and stupid, but a little too tired too. Like they hadn’t had a nap and were pretending they didn’t need one.

“I’m Éadaoin. You look sad. Are you sad?”

They opened their mouth again, as if they were going to respond. Then they paused, taking a deep breath, and closed it again. She watched them, tilting her head all the way to the side again. She had to grip onto the side of the bench, nearly toppling over, but she did it. She had good balance like that.

“It’s okay to be sad,” she told them, trying to scrunch her face into looking understanding. “You can be tired too. You go and you take a nap and you eat some food an’ you’ll feel better. That’s what I do.”

“I am fine,” they muttered, frowning. “I just wanted to sit on my bench. Read my book.”

She considered. “Well, you are sittin’ on a bench. It’s my bench, but we can share it. It can be our bench. Okay?”

Jamie paused, tilting their head, as if considering whether sharing a bench was worth it. Finally, they nodded. “Fine.”

They sat in silence again, for a whole fifty seconds, before Éadaoin spoke again. “Do you wanna see my slug?”

Jamie gave her a side eye, raising their eyebrows. “No.”

She hoisted Bijou up anyway, putting him really close to their face. “This is Bijou. He really likes adventures an’ makin’ people happy. He keeps nightmares away.”

“That’s very nice,” Jamie mumbled, still looking at their book. They carefully made a note in it. She poked their arm and they yelped, looking at her. They looked to Bijou. Sighed. “Wow, what an amazing slug.”

“Yeah, he is,” she nodded, before leaning over their arm to try and read their book. She huffed. “Why’s your book got so many words?”

“Because it’s a good book. Goodness. This isn’t even that many words, it’s a script, not a— you know what? Fine.”

“What’s it called?”

“I don’t actually know yet. I had it named one thing, but I think I’ll change it. I made some edits, it doesn’t suit it anymore.”

“You wrote it?”

“Yes. As I said before, I’m good with words.”

She paused, squinting up at them. They looked down at her with a sigh. “Can you read to me?” she asked, grinning. She made sure to stick her tongue between her missing tooth, since that always made Suzy smile.

They considered. “Will it make you shut up?”

“Yeah! I promise! I’ll be so quiet, you won’t even know I exist!”

Jamie sighed again, a much longer sigh. They sighed too much. “Fine. Be quiet.”

She snuggled into their arm as they began to read, some story about a child who was very bad at playing cards and some sort of monkey. They had a nice voice, something that changed whenever they spoke as another character, with rises and falls that began to lull her to sleep. She carefully let Bijou drop into their bag as her eyes began to close, a yawn escaping her. She kept it quiet though, just like she’d promised.

She would wake an hour later, as Baba thanked a redhead and Mish-mish hopped up onto his shoulder and rubbed her face against Éadaoin’s sleepy cheek. She’d fallen asleep on the way back home, dreams filled with tall men in tall hats and friends who always came back.

Bijou wouldn’t come back, but she was pretty sure he’d found a new adventure. Besides, she always slept better with her stuffies. Maybe Jamie would feel the same. She had a feeling he could use a nap.

#fl oc #rune writes #oc: blank #(it's his daughter so it goes in his tag haha)#others ocs

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void-galaxy-shenanigans · 2 years

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Y’all. I’m so frustrated.

I know I’m autistic & it’s not actually my fault. But...

Nonverbal/non-speaking.

If there is not a severe punishment attached to force me to speak aloud, I...can’t.

(severe punishment is relative...being yelled at, being verbally degraded, being swung at even if I don’t actually get h!t, being fed any of our sensory no foods...those are all severe, not just full ab*se)

I don’t mean I’m mute all the time. I physically could speak (99% of the time, there are exceptions).

I mean I mentally can’t.

As in, (a) head empty no thoughts (brain only has capacity for very basic functions & I can barely play very easy mobile games that are pattern based), (b) can only stim via singing, cannot form coherent language aloud, (c) brain thinking in pictures, couldn’t translate it to words aloud no matter how hard I try, (d) brain thinking in a mix of every language I know but I couldn’t translate it all into any one language or make it make sense if I spoke it, (e) brain is thinking in consistent English, but I can’t make it make sense if I spoke it, (f) brain has deleted any & all information on all languages we know & I can’t retrieve it; I forgot route was a word today & got frustrated trying to play a game because it's a crossword type puzzle & I needed to know that was a real word, (g) all languages sound like gibberish or Simlish aloud & I can’t mimic that language to save my life, or (h) “thoughts go so fast, brain no perceive; head look empty...head too full”, & I can’t speak it because can’t maintain grip on any thoughts.

Sometimes I do actually go mute, from anxiety or exhaustion or shutdown. But usually I could speak somehow...but can’t make it make sense, or some other struggle.

& gods, it’s so frustrating.

I love language. I love to communicate, to be understood (or as closely understood as possible), to learn language...I love seeing the joy as people realize you speak their language & they don’t have to translate / have their kid(s) translate.

I love talking.

But if I am not at work (will get fired if I don’t at least script), around ab*sive people who will punish me, or around someone who makes me feel like I must speak....I have max an hour a day that I can speak without it draining me & steadily declining in clarity.

Yet allistics assume if you’re quiet it’s because you’re not saying something mean (‘if you don’t have something nice to say don’t say anything at all’), or because you’re tired of them or angry at them or something else negative. They don’t assume you have no words or ran out of words.

It takes so much energy to translate my brain into something verbal, let alone anything that makes sense & is even mildly grammatically correct.

I can write all day long, but never being able to speak aloud without difficulty is...frustrating, & getting old fast.

I’ve been home alone for roughly 6 days (since Friday morning last week), minus about 16 hours Sunday to Monday (parents came back from one trip, slept, then went to visit family). Our dog understands nonverbal communication so I don’t *need* to speak. & it’s very quickly getting old how draining talking is.

I forget whole names exist until I see them again. I forget words exist regularly. Real words often look fake or sound made up even if they’re real language.

I’m an author. I love to communicate. (My love for writing might be why I communicate so effectively in writing but not aloud 🤷‍♂️.) But I tend to not be able to speak.

& people like me aren’t generally represented in media. The ones who speak, but only extremely limited...yet have a wide vocabulary full of metaphors that they grew to love & are learning every language they can get their hands on (español, deutsch, français, Russian....) just for the love of language & communication.

Maybe that’s why I love stories where all the characters have a limited number of words every day, tell people they aren’t worth wasting words on, & character A may tell character C (often a cheating ex) to fuck off before spending all their words for that day to connect with character B (often a love interest). Because I do have limited words, but people don’t assume I’m out of words or “just didn’t get words today”. Because in that kind of world I wouldn’t be so alone. People wouldn’t assume I’m stupid or unintelligent/retarded, or infantilize me, or otherwise misunderstand my lack of verbal words. They wouldn’t assume me communicating via vague noises meant I was condescending them or didn’t care.

Living in a neurotypical, allistic world when you can’t speak or can barely speak is exhausting.

& I know it isn’t my fault. I’m autistic, & I’m still proud to be autistic. But...I just wish I didn’t have to struggle so much.

~Nico

#autistic adult #autist #autistic #actually autistic #autistic masking #autistic spectrum #ableism #cw ableist language #autism spectrum disorder #autistic pride #nonverbal #non speaking #non-speaking #non-verbal #non verbal

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autumnalwalker · 1 year

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OC Name Meanings Tag Game

Thank you for the tag, @cljordan-imperium.

Passing the tag to @blind-the-winds, @fearofahumanplanet, @writingpotato07, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, and the usual open tag for anyone else who may wish to join in.

So, (just about) everyone's name in @thearchivistsjournal were picked via random dice rolling on name tables in the back of a D&D book and are intentionally divorced from the original meaning/context/origins of those names, as is the nature of that world. The only three exceptions to that are Pat, Vernon, and Priscilla. Pat's name is a low-key roundabout homage to Piscine Molitor Patel, the protagonist and narrator of the book Life of Pi. Priscilla's name is a Dark Souls reference with her semi-isolation from the Village and house full of paintings of other worlds. Vernon just felt like a "Vernon" to me. Sometimes a name just pops into your head and fits.

The names for Empty Names I gave a bit more thought to. For the main cast anyway. A number of the side characters are loosely based on old RPG characters of mine who kept the same names.

Also this classic post played a large part in deciding on Lacuna, Sullivan, and Road's names. Additionally, in my original brainstorming I listed the characters as A, B, C, D & E, which had some influence on their final names. It's also not a coincidence that I had the two cis characters on either end of that list, with the trans characters in the middle with the genderfluid character who's also the narrative center of the group that brings everyone together as C.

So, now to actually fit the tag game's format:

Ashan Glassheart

"Ashan" I just through random syllables behind an "A" until I got something I liked the sound of. Or maybe I pulled it from a name generator. Now that I'm thinking about it, I think what happened was I used the name generator, saw something similar to "Ashan" and modified it. The "Glassheart" part I definitely got from a random wizard name generator. I especially liked it because in that early brainstorming phase I was rather explicitly going by the classic Five-Man Band trope and originally envisioned him as filling the role of "The Heart" in that lineup. Also, I'd always intended to have his magic focus on barriers and bindings and the name lent itself well to painting a solid aesthetic on the visuals for that with all of his conjurations looking like glass. While I doubt I'll ever write it out in-canon, his normal pre-wizard name he had as a kid also starts with an "A" and ends with a "n".

Sullivan Bridgewood

As the meme goes "trans man names are like drowned Victorian children," so to the Victorian names generator on the same site I used for Ashan I went. "Bridgewood" fit the "B" in the original placeholder labels and that name led to some worldbuilding stuff with him living on an estate with a bunch of trees that all act as portals to various other trees around the world. The original idea would be that the Bridgewood was a forest his family were guardians of that he used to run away as a kid, but that backstory was discarded in favor of Bridgewood being his wife's last name that he took on upon marriage. I knew that I wanted him to be stupidly wealthy and bankrolling the whole operation and went through several ideas of how he got that money before I eventually decided on him simply marrying into it, which makes for some delicious irony in light of his current canon backstory. As for "Sullivan" I merely liked the sound of it when it popped up in the generator. It's apparently Irish/Gaelic/Celtic in origin (Google keeps giving me different answers) meaning something along the lines of "dark-eyed," and I incorporated that into his physical description.

Road

Again, as per the meme post "nb names are often just like. Nouns." But a little deeper than that, Road is sort of a spiritual successor to my original world-hopping OC that I made up all the way back in like elementary or middle school and kept making up stories for (about half of those were essentially OC-insert fanfics) but never writing down all the way into adulthood. That character traveled between worlds via an endless deserted road (a detail added when I was in high school and heard Boulevard of Broken Dreams for the first time, and where Road gets their name from). Road's inherited a number of that character's traits, such as the world-hopping, not having a fixed appearance or real name, generally trying to be good and helpful, and having the one person they regularly see over and over again be a highly destructive jerk with whom they have a complicated relationship. In retrospect, their name may also have been a subconscious low-key shoutout to the character Road Kamelot from D. Gray-man, who also has some existential weirdness going on. Road's a break from the placeholder label formatting, not having a "C" in their name, but breaking from formatting fits with their character in a way. Or maybe their name that they lost a long time ago started with a "C."

Lacuna

Quoting the meme one last time: "trans women names r like 22nd century cyberpunk hacker jewel thieves." More literally, "Lacuna" means a "gap, missing part, or hiatus." The title of Empty Names is partially a play on this, with Lacuna having effectively named herself "Empty," which is the sort of angsty thing she would paradoxically find comfort in doing. From a meta perspective I first encountered the word "lacuna" while reading the book Titus Groan and have just been sort of in love with the word ever since and have been looking for an excuse to use it. If I ever finally decide on her last name, it will start with a "D."

Eris

Now, Eris's name I definitely arrived at via tossing random syllables after an "E" until I found something I liked the sound of. And then the Google search to make sure I hadn't just accidentally named her something problematic told me that "Eris" is the Greek goddess of strife and discord, which was a happy coincidence with being fitting for what I had in mind for her character. Admittedly, where she's ended up has led to "strife" fitting less in the traditional meaning of the word and more in the Homestuck meaning of the word. In canon, "Eris" started out as a shortened nickname that she wound up with as a kid because other kids at school kept mispronouncing her real name and she eventually just embraced it, especially after her own realization of the mythological connotations. She'll get a last name if it ever becomes relevant, but for the moment it's kind of fitting that she never uses it since she's sort of been disowned by her parents for repeatedly coming home covered in blood and not being able to give a non-supernatural explanation.

#oc name game #tag game #my ocs #writeblr #writeblr community #writeblr connect #writing process

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tohokuu · 4 months

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Did he fall in "love at first sight" w u? U said he liked u when u first met. Was it personality or looks

uhh yeah i guess it was looks first and then he kept talking to me and he liked my personality more and more. i ask him if he still loves my personality and he says yes even tho im weird. i ask if he thinks im pretty and he says yes

we js haven’t been able to match up our love languages. his is quality time and mine is words of affirmation and physical touch.

we can’t touch as much bc we js go to a school that was always on our ass abt touching each other and that also kinda led to the downfall of things. he also just doesn’t talk much as he used to. he’s not in school rn so he’s at home w his dog doing nothing but playing games and then ill text him and sometimes he’ll come see me and then other times it’s js meh

he doesn’t say as much as he used to. he doesn’t pretend to love me though. i js think he’s a quieter person in general bc when he’s having a particularly extra good day, he’s more affectionate with me and he always likes to tell me stuff and he’s kind of stupid at times.

i think his way of showing me love is by tickling my throat at random times, slapping the back of my head with an empty sleeve and then biting my cheeks and my nose. instead of kissing me, he’ll js lick my whole face and i found this behavior annoying instead until i figured that’s js his way of showing love … and i love him so im not gonna sit here and complain if he wants to bite my nose a million times

he doesn’t even do it with his teeth 💀 he’ll cover his teeth with his lips and then bite my face so he doesn’t hurt me

he thought he poked my eye on accident yesterday and he immediately apologized and held my face and expected my eye to make sure i was okay and then kissed (licked) my eye after.

i asked this loser if he would peel an orange for me and he’s like “hell no” and then the next day, he posts this,

he has 47 pairs of crocs btw. i asked him for flowers and he ordered me yellow tulips and im positive he was getting ripped off bc he refuses to tell me how much he spent on them but a few days ago he found out that tulips aren’t my favorite so last night he apologized for not having my valentine’s day flowers and that he feels terrible and stupid

and he works in the floral dept at work so i was like “babe it’s okay, you make bouquets at work. i think i would love one that you make” but he’s js too nervous and critical of himself

and then he kept whining about how he felt like such an idiot when some guy came and bought the last set of hydrangeas and he had to keep a straight face the whole time 💔 bc he now knew those were my favorite

yesterday he said “i just want you to be happy and not be angry. you’re always angry” and he has a point. i am usually always angry… that’s kind of my default mood and if he does something, i get really annoyed.

i think i put a lot of pressure on him as well and i explode a lot when i get excited…

i think we’re just grumpy at times. yesterday he was like “we’re like an old miserable couple” and i was like “except we’re not old. we’re js miserable”

and then he sulked and pouted the whole time and i did too and the poor guy in the elevator suffered with us

but despite all of this, he always treats me like the most fragile thing ever. he’s always too scared to be to rough. his hands always hold me softly and he wipes away my tears with his thumb and he kisses my forehead every chance he gets.

#also if we broke up #we’d probably still act the same way #i’d still come over to his house and all

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sore-child · 2 years

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I always wonder if the people closest to me think about me the way I think about them.

Today has been a fuck for brain. Went basically all day head empty but feeling generally bad and now that I'm in bed allllll the bad thoughts are here. Lately I feel so not thought of by anyone. Not in a "they hate me" way but more of a "I have something better to do/someone better to talk to" way. And I hope I'm wrong and that it's just my brain doing stupid shit again. But fuck I hate this shit. I have an appointment with a new psych on Monday, I should maybe get my list of actual symptoms and not feelings. I want to feel better so badly.... And now all of a sudden I got that sudden hit of hyper awareness. Like I feel weird that I'm laying here typing this out ?? Like I feel like I shouldn't?? I can't tell if I'm overreacting? I'm not sure what I feel but I know it's bad. Maybe it has to do with all the shit I've been seeing of people cheating, both just random internet posts and I watched a fuck ton of Maury last night. Well I guess it's two nights ago now. And then the Julian and Terra thing. Like I want Julian to be happy but I get major bad vibes off what they told me about Terra. Gives me major Brian vibes. Plus I've still been feeling ugly and undesirable as a whole. That's a feeling that never goes away but it's amplified right now. Maybe it's the heat?? Also it was just a full moon in Sagittarius so maybe that has something to do with how I'm feeling? I don't know I'm just so confused and I feel like shit. I want to go somewhere fun to get my mind off it. I wish I could drive so I could just go to Walmart or the mall or somewhere I've never even been before. I really want these stores across the street to open soon because I really want a job. Im so tired of sitting at home doing nothing. I could work at one of those gas stations but those ones make me feel so closed in. I'm afraid I'm gonna have a whole meltdown because of it. Plus I'm so fucking huge I feel like I will constantly knock stuff over and break stuff. If I found like a bus that puts me directly by somewhere I would work that would be cool. But I can't even think of anywhere. Target would be cool but they never fucking hire anyone with no experience. I remember applying there a few years ago and literally the next day they said no. Ulta or Sally's would be cool but I think you need a cosmetology license to work at either of them. I wish Daystar could have been able to hire me quickly. I wish the mission would take people with no experience plus the one boss guy that was there in 2018 was such an asshole to the girl working there. And starship earth would be perfect for me but she never hires anyone except sometimes around holidays...god I'm fucking ranting but also another reason I might feel like garbage is because of the stress over Tori. My mom pisses me off so fucking much and I'm dreading going to this fucking work dinner thing with her on Tuesday. But if I don't go she will know I'm avoiding her and I don't want to add on to all the shit just over a dinner. I would rather it be over something worth it.

It's posts like this that make me wonder if I have BPD ?? I really really really don't want it. I'm not an angry person but basically everything else about it seems to add up. I don't wanna be a manic pixie dream girl. I just want to be normal 😭 God my brain keeps switching up and now I specifically have the part in without love by Alice Glass where she says "am I worth it or am I worthless? Will I ever figure it out?". I go for months not remembering that song and then it pops into my mind when I'm feeling like shit about myself and I don't even have to hear it. I don't even remember the last time I heard it. I'm so tiiiiiired. I have to make myself sleep, I hate staying up past when the sun comes up.

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fruggo · 3 years

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I’m not gonna lie this would be the first time I requested something so if I do something wrong I’m really sorry,

Can I request Quentin, Leon, Steve, and Frank meeting a female reader who, before the entity took her, had already faced off her own killer?

And this made her kinda tough? Like she knows what she’s doing

oh my gosh thank you so much!! this is my first ever request to fulfill so we’re in this together :DD seriously i really appreciate you!

i decided to do a headcanon kind of format for this, i hope that’s okay! also these are my absolute favorite boys aaahhh this is so fun for a first request

the boys x tough f!reader (part 1) (part 2)

warnings: swearing, reader kicks frank in the shins

word count: ~700-1k each (sorry if it’s too long…i kind of got really excited and uhhh maybe i got carried away,, yeah. sorry)

(also i'll be honest quentin's is not my best. that was the one that got eaten by the tumblr abyss and i had to write all over again, and it just didn't come out the same way that i wanted it to at first :( i did the other boys hoping i'd get some inspiration to fix it afterwards, but i got kind of stuck. so it's not my favorite, but i hope you like it okay! i want to write better stuff for quentin in the future, he is my favorite sleepy boy <3)

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

when you arrived in the realm, everyone thought you would be the same as the others—frightened, confused, and overwhelmed. but you took this nightmarish challenge in stride, adapting to your surroundings quickly and learning far faster than anybody else had.

your past experiences had made you independent and sometimes distrustful, so once you had the gist of things, you didn’t need (or want) anybody to tell you what to do. and nobody was inclined to, either—your instincts naturally told you what to do and when.

the first time you met quentin was a little awkward, i wont lie. you were wary of speaking to the other survivors; you weren’t going to let yourself get hurt again.

it was the beginning of a trial. the nurse’s fatigued shrills could be heard all the way from the edge of the wrecker’s yard, but you immediately started work on a generator, unafraid. a few minutes passed, when soft footsteps indicated someone’s approach. it was quentin—he started to work on the wires without hesitation.

you were a little surprised, only because the other survivors usually left you to your own devices. you got the impression that maybe they were intimidated by you, which you didn’t particularly mind. but you wouldn’t particularly mind some company now and then, either.

it was comfortably silent for a while, before quentin spoke up.

“what’s your name?” he asked, gaze still focused on the wires.

hesitating a little, you told him. then you said, “and you’re quentin, right?” you already knew most everybody’s name just from observation.

“that i am,” he replied.

then it was quiet for a while.

very quiet.

well, what were you supposed to say now?

the silence was deafening and very, very uncomfortable to you. normally you were okay with a quiet atmosphere, but it was the kind of silence that buzzed in your ears, chewed at your stomach, filled the area as if it were something solid. man, what were you supposed to say—

it was then that you realized poor quentin had fallen asleep, his face smooshed onto the generator. his cheek was now covered in grease and grime.

it made you smile—only a little. you finished repairing the generator on your own, causing quentin to wake with a start and bang his head on the pole protruding from the machine. he swore like a sailor until he realized where he was, smiling sheepishly.

“sorry, i wanted you to have your nap. you looked really tired,” you said. you also couldn’t stop admiring the dark grease on his face—it was really quite funny. and no, you weren’t going to say anything about it. it could stay there a little longer.

you spent the rest of the trial running the nurse around the whole wrecker’s yard, only suffering one injury until the end. quentin had no idea how you had been here for such little time and already knew how to outplay the nurse, one of the most difficult killers to survive against. he still didn’t know how to do it well himself, so he was thankful for you.

however, once the exit gates were opened, you found yourself in a bad spot. the nurse had caught you in an empty clearing with nowhere to hide or predict her moves, and she downed you instantly. quentin cringed hearing your agonized scream as you were hooked.

there was no way you were dying on his watch. once he was sure the nurse was gone, he gently lifted you from the hook, pulling out his medical kit to begin patching up your shoulder.

despite the pain, you had enough energy to smile at him and say, “thanks, nap boy.”

quentin feigned offense with a wry grin, pulling out some gauze. “is that all i’m going to be to you? nap boy?”

you hummed, pretending to be deep in thought. “maybe you won’t be if you get me out of here.”

“that won’t be a problem," he smiled, quirking an eyebrow.

“show me the gates and then we’ll talk, nap boy.”

from then on, quentin became your go-to source for supplies and general comfort. you weren't scared of this place, but it was nice to know you had somebody who would really be there for you.

he would often fall asleep on your shoulder at the campfire--he really was a nap boy, and you would never let him live that down.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘

leon could not tear his eyes away from you the first time you arrived in the realm. your presence was strong; he could tell you weren’t one to back away from a fight.

most of the survivors had been (rightly) confused and disoriented when they popped into the realm, but you tried to accept it quickly. you didn’t like it, in fact all you wanted was just to go home, but you came to terms with it and jumped into trials headfirst like an insane person.

that was the courageous part about you—maybe you were scared, but you did scary shit anyways. in fact, you did scary shit to spite the fear, to prove to yourself that you were strong enough to overcome it.

and leon couldn’t lie, that was cool as hell.

you had tunnel vision and didn’t pay much notice to the other survivors; you were too focused on learning about this place and getting out of trials. having gone through some real shit, being here hardly came as a surprise to you. if you were going to be here forever, what was the point in mourning? might as well just accept it and try your hardest to survive. maybe someday this sick game would end, but for now, you were prepared to fight for your life and that’s all you could really focus on.

your first trial was not the best. even though you were resourceful, you didn’t know what the objective was yet, so you weren’t sure where to start other than analyzing your surroundings. luckily for you, leon kennedy was one of your teammates.

after being downed immediately by bubba’s chainsaw and tossed onto a hook, you were amazingly resilient to the pain. leon was the one to lift you from the hook, and he took out his medkit to help patch your wound, but you flinched away from him before he could touch you.

he was puzzled. “what’s wrong?” he asked. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he wanted to help you.

you hesitated and looked him over before mumbling, “i’m fine.” and you tried to stand on your own, beginning to limp away. you didn’t want or need anyone’s help.

leon sighed, following after you. “let me help, that must hurt a lot.”

“i told you, cop, i’m fine. i don’t want your help, okay?”

leon opened his mouth to insist, but decided against it. if you didn’t want his help, then he shouldn’t butt in. that wouldn’t keep him from watching over you, though.

but then leon called after you (perhaps a little smugly), “do you even know what you’re supposed to do?”

begrudgingly, you stopped walking. no, you didn’t know what to do. “i’ll figure it out,” you said over your shoulder. and you would; you had been through enough to survive any situation thrown at you.

but maybe one pointer couldn’t hurt.

“do a generator,” he told you, giving you a cheeky grin when you turned around to look at him. he was lucky he was cute.

the first part of the trial had been rough, but after that first hook you were doing a lot better. you managed to find your own medkit from a chest, and you learned how to fix a few generators. you found it came pretty naturally, and were satisfied that you hadn’t needed anyone’s help (except leon’s. but you didn’t have to admit that yet). when the killer came near, you skillfully avoided him and stayed hidden as much as you could.

you were also pretending that you didn't notice leon hovering near you. he was not very good at being subtle; he was obviously trying to make sure you didn't get hurt. it was cute. you didn't want to ruin his fun, so you didn't say anything about it.

it wasn’t long before the gates were powered and in the process of being opened. you saw a red glowing light in the distance, and assumed that must be your destination. you put all of your remaining energy into sprinting to the exit, adrenaline pumping through your body.

but then there was a heartbeat. a heartbeat so loud it filled your head, splitting your concentration. it wasn’t your own heartbeat--it was the killer’s.

the sound of the cannibal’s chainsaw roared in your ears and pain tore through your body; you collapsed to the ground with a cry of agony. shit, that really hurt, and you weren't sure you could ever get used to it. eternity sure seemed a lot longer than you had first anticipated. would you really be here forever? doing this over and over?

biting your lip until it bled, you tried to crawl towards the gate, dragging the lower half of your body with much difficulty. it was no use, though--you hardly got anywhere, and you could already feel the killer picking you up. just like that, you were going to die? you had been so close..

but as you were being placed on bubba’s shoulder, you saw a flash of a police uniform and a blinding light, and before you knew it, you had been dropped to the ground, the exit gate looking awfully lovely and much more desirable than a meat hook. you gathered all of your strength and began limping forward, when suddenly you felt an arm firmly wrap around your waist and your own was placed around someone else’s shoulder.

leon. when you looked up at him, all he did was give you a calm smile, which you felt inclined to return. with him supporting you, the two of you made it safely to the exit and began the long traipse back to the campfire, where you would find yourself spending a lot of time together.

from then on, you always remained quite unfazed by the events of the entity’s realm—the only thing that ever made you feel weak was being around leon. he was just so cute :]

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍

you had never met someone so persistent in your life. from the moment the entity stole you here, steve harrington was after you, and there was next to nothing you could do about it. he sure was living up to his self-proclaimed role of babysitter.

you told him you were fine, that you didn’t need him following you around, but the asshole did it anyways.

“how cool do you think you are?” you asked him at some point, to which he simply shrugged with that stupid grin on his lips.

“i can take care of myself.” “i really don’t need you to baby me, steve.” “steve, if you don’t leave me alone i’m going to break your kneecaps.” these were all things that had come from your mouth multiple times recently. you were seriously thinking about that last one now.

you knew you could make it on your own, and you only wished he would give you a chance to prove that to him so he would leave you alone. but it was like he had attached himself to your hip, and for some reason the entity seemed to really enjoy putting you in trials with him. great.

he was a dumbass and a sweetheart, and you weren’t sure which one of those took higher priority. you knew he only meant well, but god, you wanted to be independent for once. why did he think he had to protect you so much? you arrived here after running for your fucking life, fighting off your long-time pursuer, and living in awful, ever-changing conditions. you had seen your closest friends die, right before your eyes. you didn’t need to be sheltered or coddled, but you couldn’t seem to make steve understand that, no matter how much you fought with him.

steve would literally throw himself in front of the killer for you. he clicked his flashlight in the killer’s face if they were after you, and he would swear and cuss until they chased him out of pure annoyance. it got him killed countless times, and you didn’t know whether to call him stupid or selfless. probably both.

eventually you decided to just copy him and see how it worked out. you weren’t scared, you had no reason to be. you wanted to show him you could be just as flashy as him.

as you arrived into a trial, steve right across from you (of course), you smiled to yourself. you had brought your best flashlight, and you were prepared to use it. the two of you began to work on a generator together, making light conversation as usual.

“if the killer comes here, hide. i’ll take him away.” “fuck you, steve harrington.” “sure, if you really want to.” “why don’t you ever leave me alone?” “it’s a mystery, isn’t it?” “i could punch you right now.” “but you won’t. i’m too good to look at.”

you know, the usual friendly stuff.

you purposefully connected the wrong wires, making the generator spark and sputter. “oops. oh no, the killer must be on their way,” you dead-panned. steve gave you an unamused look.

and indeed, only a few moments later, you heard the sound of the hillbilly and his chainsaw roaring in your direction. the two of you split up, and the killer’s weapon collided with the generator, making an awful screeching sound.

and that was when the chaos started.

steve began hollering and flicking his flashlight into the sky as usual, and after a moment’s hesitation, you did the same. steve looked at you in astonishment, pausing, but then he started again, even louder. you tried to outdo him.

“HEY BILLY! FUCK YOU!” you screamed, ignoring steve’s attempts to get you to stop. “COME AFTER ME, SHITHEAD!”

steve started actually yelling, just yelling, while you continued to swear meaninglessly. the poor hillbilly looked confused and overwhelmed, and eventually he couldn’t take the noise anymore--he just left, opting to find the other survivors while the two of you sorted out whatever it is you obviously had against each other.

it was dead silent now that the killer was gone, and you and steve were both out of breath. but as soon as you made eye contact, laughter bubbled up from your chest, causing you to collapse against the tree and slide to the ground. your voice was hoarse from all the screaming.

and then he was laughing too, stumbling over to plop down next to you, and your giggling started up a whole new round.

after the laughter died down, you stared at your hands, ignoring steve’s gaze on the side of your face until you couldn’t anymore.

“what?” you asked, finally looking at him. he was smiling all stupid again. “what?” you insisted, fighting off a grin of your own. you hated when he looked at you like that, because it made you want to smile back at him.

“nothing,” he said coyly, laughing again. you punched his shoulder playfully.

“c’mon harrington, when have you ever held your tongue before? spit it out.”

he nodded, that was true. so he said it. “i just like you, that’s all.”

oh. oh.

realization dawned upon your face. “is that why you always--”

“yes,” he interrupted you. “i thought it was obvious. man, you’re clueless sometimes.”

oh.

huh.

you guessed…maybe…steve harrington wasn’t that annoying. maybe.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍

to say you were feisty was an understatement. frank hated your guts at first because you were so good at evading him, which he would never admit. but the thing that made him really mad was that if he ever downed you, you would kick at him and try to trip him over, like actually bruise his shins. it hurt like hell.

this lead to his decision to constantly tunnel you, and he would laugh at you while you were on the hook, too. so you hated his guts just as much as he did yours. it was a mutual guts-hating situation.

your teammates always felt bad for you, but they also thought you were a badass and knew you could handle yourself. you hadn’t told anybody where you’d come from or what had happened to you, but they knew it was something interesting. there was a reason that nothing that happened here really got to you.

sometimes things escalated even further than shin-kicking. there was one time where frank had managed to grab the back of your shirt as you tried to vault a window, and as he pulled you closer to himself, you elbowed him in the neck and squirmed out of his grasp. while he stood stunned and lost for breath, you kicked the back of his locked knee so that he fell to the ground and bonked his forehead on the wall—the classic dead leg.

this was very funny to you.

not to him.

while you ran away, laughing to yourself, frank’s anger built and built. he was tired of letting you make a fool of him, and it was time to be serious about things.

he ignored you for the rest of the trial, forming a plan in his mind. there was something he needed to do after this, so he made sure to kill everybody else to please the entity—he couldn’t get caught up, it would derail his anger train. he also didn’t feel like getting kicked in the balls or some shit, so he let you out without a problem.

frank did some brooding at the ormond lodge before he was ready to go through with his plan. and his shins really, really hurt, so susie helped him ice them before he left.

the masked killer made his way to the survivor camp rather hastily. when he arrived, he saw you pacing around, deep in thought.

so he threw a rock at you.

it was just a pebble, really. maybe it could be considered a rather large pebble, but frank insisted in his mind that it was a pebble.

“ow, what the fuck!” you cursed, rubbing your sore shoulder and looking around to find the culprit. and then your eyes laid on him.

he looked so sultry standing there at the edge of the woods, arms crossed and mask smiling, you could almost laugh at him. he acted so serious, when really, he was just an angry and misbehaving twink.

you put on your best serious face, genuinely trying not to be amused by this, and strode over to the killer.

“what do you want?” you asked confidently, mirroring his body language and crossing your arms.

frank bristled at your approach, as if trying to make himself look bigger. he wished you were scared of him like everyone else, it would really make him feel better.

“i want a truce,” he said.

you almost burst into laughter at that. a truce? what the fuck for?

he said was willing to stop tunneling and camping you if you stopped beating the shit out of him with your sticky little hands. he didn’t say it like that, but you knew that was what he meant. you, a survivor, could beat up frank, a killer, and it upset him and his little ego :(

just to humor him, you agreed. and frank nodded.

“but,” you continued, raising your eyebrows, “you have to give me something else.”

he started to say “no, no way—“ but you interrupted him: “you’re asking me to stop fighting for myself and just give in when you catch me. i think i deserve something other than just not being tunnelled.”

frank glared at you under his mask, thankful that you couldn’t see. “okay. whatever. what do you want?”

“i want to see your face.” you thought this was a good choice, something you could lord over him forever. it was surely only a win for you. his face was something private, and you would be the only survivor to know.

of course you wanted to see his face, frank thought. everyone did; they wanted to find out if he was good-looking. which, according to him, he was. if you ever asked the other members of the legion, susie was the only one to actually respond. she felt obligated to compliment him as she was basically his sister. so she would say frank is handsome in a ruggedy, jess mariano kind of way. you wondered how she knew what gilmore girls was, since that came after her time, but susie would never give away her secret.

so with a sigh, frank agreed to let you see his face. he didn’t really care, all he wanted was to stop having bruises on his shins. it was kind of miserable, and the entity never did anything to help him.

when he said that you couldn’t do it here, and you asked why the fuck not, he said it was because some other survivor might see. you decided he had a fair point, so reluctantly you let him drag you all the way to ormond.

when he took off his mask, your first thought, whether you wanted it to be or not, was “wow! he really does look like jess mariano! but with tattoos! hot!”

you were lost for words. you didn’t really know what you were expecting, but you sure weren’t expecting him to be that attractive.

he could tell your thoughts from the look on your face.

this had been per your request, and you were planning on this being something you could hold over his head, but the situation had turned into something that he could hold over your head.

oh dear. frank morrison now held pretty boy privilege over you.

and soon you would find out that he was going to keep tunnelling you anyways.

listen i've been watching a lot of gilmore girls and i just get jess vibes from frank, except our boy is more of a twinky idk shdjfhsf i love this guy sm

#so many notes!!!! thank u!! :]#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dbd fanfic #dbd headcanons #frank morrison #frank morrison x reader #quentin smith #quentin smith x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #fruggo writes #dbd #dead by daylight #requests

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Note

omg I’m so excited you’re on here and taking requests!! do you think you could do something like baby Spence losing his virginity to a close friend & it’s like adorable, goofy, fluffy smut bc he cannot get over the fact that he’s actually having sex with someone

I’VE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-- TURN IT UP!!!

on a serious note, i'm so glad you asked for this one bc i really wanna add a scene like this in the fic i'm working on rn. i'm v excited.

summary: when the secret of Spencer's virginity gets accidentally spilled in front of the whole team, reader goes to check on him.

word count: 5.6k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Spencer Reid

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fluff.

masterlist

hanging out with the team is easily the best part of the week. after spending days in Arizona with our focus entirely on the most recent case, my mind is practically ready to snap. I feel like I've been running on fumes, and when Penelope suggested we take the evening to hit our favorite bar, I was practically already out the door.

so now I'm sandwiched between JJ and Emily as we throw back our first shots of the night. my skin is already flushed with the elation of laughter, the pleasant thrum of conversation that surrounds us.

"that's bitter." JJ makes a face when she slams the empty glass on the table. I screw up my nose.

"why did we pick vodka?" I hate vodka.

"it gets the job done." Emily laughs. I shudder at the aftertaste that sits on my tongue.

Morgan wanders over, Pen on his arm while she totes a brightly colored pink alcohol. they're flirting as usual, but she pauses in her witticisms to grab my arm.

"we're playing truth or shot in that booth over there." she says to me, then gets the attention of the other two women. I let out a disbelieving laugh.

"truth or shot? like truth or dare but without the dare?"

"Reid, is that you?" Morgan says sarcastically. I slug him in the arm with a pout.

"be nice." but I'm giggling. he loops his arm through mine and we head back to the table, Penelope already starting a new conversation with JJ and Prentiss as they follow. Spencer is sitting in the booth with an Arnold Palmer, sipping from the straw like it's his job. I slide into the spot next to him.

"hi, you." I smile. "I haven't seen you at all tonight."

he holds up his glass. "I don't really drink."

"that's fine," I wave it off. "I just meant I wanted to hang out with you."

"oh." he smiles a little. "sorry."

"no big deal. you're here now." I shrug and turn to Pen as she calls my name.

"I'm gonna order a bottle. that okay?" she points to the bar with a mischievous smile. glancing once at Spencer and his slightly awkward position between Morgan and me, I make a snap decision.

"you know what? I think I'll just have a lemonade."

"you sure? Jayge said you spent the whole plane ride back talking about getting wasted--" Penelope's words cause a blush to spread over my face. I cut her off.

"I'm sure. thanks, Penny."

she nods. "of course, sweet cheeks."

I focus back on Reid, who is looking at me gratefully. he would never say it out loud, but I know he feels a little out-of-place sometimes. it's hard enough for him to come out with us to bars; the least I can do is be a sober friend. I open my mouth to start a conversation about an article I read the other day when Prentiss speaks.

"okay, so... who's ready?" her voice, always so certain, carries over the table. all of us make enthusiastic noises of assent, and she grins as Penelope returns with an armful of glasses. Derek gets up to grab the actual alcohol, and then when we're all settled in, the game begins.

"the rules are simple: you tell the truth, or you drink!" the tech analyst explains. the stakes for Spencer and me are lower, but that doesn't really matter. I'm excited to hear the team divulge their secrets.

"I'll start." Prentiss doesn't even hesitate before she looks at Morgan. "Derek, are you still sleeping with that one woman from sex crimes?"

Morgan raises his eyebrows at the question, irises flitting between Emily and the rim of his drink. there's a slight smirk on his face; he knows what a player he is and he's okay with flaunting it.

"Ally? no." he sighs. "things didn't end well between us."

"what? why?" I ask, eyes widening before I look around at everyone. "who is this woman?"

"cool your jets, sparky." Morgan teases me. "only one question per round."

"I'll tell you later." Prentiss raises her drink in my direction and winks.

"uh, no no." Morgan attempts to stop her, but JJ interrupts him.

"speaking of things not ending well," she says loudly. "Pen, why did you and Sam break up?"

"well," Penelope sticks her tongue between her teeth as she thinks it over with a devilish smile. her lips are a ruby red tonight, bright against her pale skin and big eyes. "to be completely honest, he just wasn't... doin' it for me. you know?"

"like--?" Emily glances down at her lap. Pen nods quickly and I snicker. JJ looks awestruck.

"I thought it was going so well."

"it was, but..." Penelope seems to genuinely think this over before she speaks. "if it's right, it just clicks. and it never clicked with Sam."

"profound." I compliment, high-fiving the high-energy blonde. we giggle before she turns to me with a glint in her eye.

"oh, do I have a plan for you," she smirks. "tell me, Y/N: if you had to sleep with one person on our team, who would it be?"

"women included?" I clarify, my cheeks suddenly on fire. how come everyone got easy questions except for me? I'm really just biding time.

"of course." she nudges my shoulder. I mull this over for a minute. I could say the truth, but I don't think that would be the right thing to do. however ironic that is. given the situation, I do something which I have never been good at and which I don't enjoy doing: I lie.

"although all of you are catches," I preface. "I think I would probably pick Emily."

Prentiss almost chokes on her own spit as her head snaps to see my face.

"me?" she asks.

"low-pressure fun." I shrug, the stress of the moment rolling off my shoulders with the ensuing laughter of my team members. Spencer takes a sip of his drink and peeks at me from his spot before I focus my attention to JJ.

we go on like this for a while, our original plan of "truth or drink" really just turning into a game of "truth and drink." as our laughter gets progressively louder, our questions and answers get progressively more provocative. we get into risky territory towards the fourth round, and I can practically feel Spencer's discomfort radiating off of him. thank god everyone has been taking it easier on him with their questions.

that is, until Morgan hits about five shots and decides to throw him to the wolves.

"so, Reid," he asks. there's no malice in his tone and I'm sure he's not meaning to embarrass the boy genius, but the question makes me wince anyways. "have we made any progress on the virginity front?"

it's like a fucking pall over the table. Reid goes rigid in his spot, and JJ's protective eyes dart between him and Morgan. Penelope's jaw drops.

"wait, Reid, you're a--?" her voice is tender, not judgmental, but Spencer's cheeks turn pink and he looks at Derek with a hurt expression.

"not cool." he says, body shifting in my direction. his eyes communicate everything; without a word, I know what he wants. I scoot out of the booth, letting him slip by me to walk outside.

truly, I'm speechless. we all stare at his lanky frame push through the door, but nobody talks until at least fifteen seconds pass.

"what the hell was that, Morgan?" JJ asks.

"I thought everyone knew--" he throws his hands up. "I swear I wouldn't have said anything if--"

"why would everyone know that?" I feel myself get angry for Spencer's sake. "that's an incredibly personal thing, especially to him."

"that wasn't you, my love." Penelope's voice is soft, sobered by the incident that just occurred. the playful air at the table is officially ruined, and we keep glancing at the doorway like Reid will come back in and everything will be fine. he doesn't.

"I'm gonna go apologize." Morgan starts to get up, seemingly beginning to realize the weight of his words. it's one thing to ask about Reid's sex life in general; it's another to point out specifically the entire absence of it. Spencer doesn't seem to be bothered by most things, but this is different. my heart hurts.

we watch Morgan go, the women all looking at each other with worried expressions.

"I feel bad." Penelope says.

"y'know, Spence never told me that." JJ observes.

"he really trusts Morgan." Prentiss says what we're all thinking. Morgan has always been like a big brother to him, and being embarrassed in front of your co-workers like that can't be a pleasant feeling.

we sit in a relative silence for about five minutes until Morgan walks back into the bar. he pulls out his wallet and pays for the drinks, then walks over to us.

"I'm gonna go for a walk. do you need me to call you all cabs?" he asks. those dramatic brows are drawn low over his face, emphasizing his regret. I look between my friends and clear my throat.

"it's okay. I only had one shot about an hour and a half ago. I can drive everyone home."

"okay," Morgan sighs, his head turning briefly to the door before focusing back on us. "drive safe, ladies."

and then he's gone.

"you guys ready?" I start to shrug my jacket on. they all nod and we get ready to go.

...

sitting in my apartment later that night, my head is swimming. even though it's none of my business what happens in Spencer's sex life, I wish I could tell him that it's okay. nobody cares at all if he's a virgin or not. but I know it's still embarrassing.

I hate that I lied earlier tonight, too. I wanted to say Spencer's name when they asked who I wanted, because I meant it. we're close, and I will always love him as a friend. but I've also always wanted more.

nobody, not even any of the other BAU women, know about my crush. I didn't want it to get in the way, or for it to come out and ruin my friendship with Reid. he doesn't like me like that, and that's fine, but what's not fine is not having him as my friend.

he was the first person I really connected with when I came here, and I feel a little protective over him, too.

once the clock hits eleven, I consider calling. he’s definitely not asleep yet. Spencer is a night owl. normally at this time he'd be curled up with a huge book, reading impossibly fast.

when he picks up on the third ring, the air leaves my lungs.

"Y/N?" he asks, more surprised than anything else.

"hey, Spence--" I hesitate, suddenly not sure what to say. sorry Morgan told everyone you're a fucking virgin? “do you wanna come over?"

maybe if I see him face-to-face, I'll be able to collect my thoughts better. the words hang in the air, festering over the line until I'm just about to take them back, before he replies.

"y-yeah. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

my hands are shaking at my side when I open the door for the tall genius. he's still wearing his outfit from earlier, hair slicked back like normal. I've settled for my usual sweatpants and t-shirt winning combo. it's not like he cares.

"hey." I smile, trying to read his micro expressions. there are two possible outcomes here, knowing him: either he's going to be totally, completely over it, or he'll be able to write a War-and-Peace-length book on why he's upset.

"hi." he gives a wan smile and I let him into my apartment, closing the door behind him and gesturing to the couch.

"I missed this place." he says absently, looking around at the mess of decor and case files. I snort as I recall the last time he was here. he wanted to borrow a book that I had, and we ended up watching an entire docu-series about homing pigeons. it was surprisingly interesting; mostly because his commentary is both informative and funny.

"it missed you." I anthropomorphize my living space, but the phrase hangs heavy. I'm worried about him. I'm always worried about Spencer. he turns to look at me, opening his mouth to say something. I brush past him and walk into the kitchen. "coffee?"

"sure." he follows me like a lost puppy, leaning against the counter while I pull out two mugs and get to work.

"hey," I pause for a moment to look him in the eyes. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry-- about what happened... tonight."

"oh, that?" he scoffs, waves it off unconvincingly. "it's fine."

I raise my brows the slightest bit, never breaking eye contact. he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t want to talk about it. he cracks easily.

"it's just embarrassing, you know?" he says, staring out my kitchen window to alleviate his own nerves. I gesture for him to follow me back into the living room and I sit down criss-cross applesauce on the couch. he mirrors me, kicking off those cute black Converse.

"I don't think the fact itself is embarrassing, but I totally get why it feels that way. he shouldn't have said anything." I nod.

"like, that's personal. a-and--" he hesitates a moment, gesticulating wildly now. "and it's not like he's got any right! at least I don't go around with so many girls that I forget their names."

the thought of Reid sleeping with that many women is a little bit funny, but it also makes my stomach twist with jealousy.

"did he apologize?"

"yeah, he did. and he was drunk, I know." he rolls his eyes. "I'm overreacting."

"no, really, you're not." without thinking, I scoot closer to him and place my hand over his, which is sitting on his knee. I remember that Spencer is usually pretty averse to touch, but when I move it back to my lap, he seems a little disappointed. I wonder if he gets lonely.

"is it weird?" the question sounds raw, like he's mustering a lot to hear my response. I shake my head immediately.

"well, for one, Spence, I would never judge anyone based on their sex life, period." I chuckle. "and two, no way! if you aren't into having sex at this point in your life-- or ever-- that's totally your choice and you're entitled to it."

his eyes meet mine, pools of honeyed hazel that swim with a slightly amber shade. his face is so pretty, it's sometimes unbelievable to me that he doesn't get more action. bone structure that would make a sculpture envious.

"that's the thing," he licks his lips nervously before averting his gaze again. "I am interested-- I just don't-- well, I don't--"

"don't have someone to do it with?" I suggest with a slight smile. he nods, then clarifies.

"girls don't really seem to be interested in me."

I let out a laugh, unable to contain myself. his head jerks up to frown in confusion. I’m quick to amend myself.

"Spence, that's not true at all. you're such a catch! you're sweet and funny and way smarter than anyone I know. not to mention that you're adorable." I compliment, letting some of the thoughts I've been keeping to myself bubble to the surface. "any girl would be beyond lucky to be with you, sexually or not." Spencer blushes at my words, but the squirming in his spot tells me that it makes him feel warm inside. he smiles a little.

"you think?" it's genuine. he appreciates being praised, and it makes my heart flutter when he gives me that expression like I've made his night.

"I know." more of what I want to say rolls around my mind, unsure of whether or not I should admit it. but I think that right now, it'll only serve to make him feel better. "actually, I should tell you something."

"what?" he's curious now.

"when we were at the bar and Penelope asked who I'd be with... on the team... I lied."

"okay." he nods, somehow not connecting the dots. I guess it doesn't matter if they've got enormous IQs; boys are still clueless.

"I was gonna say you." the truth presses from the inside out, lifting a weight off my chest now that it's out there. even if he doesn't return that feeling, I'm suddenly glad that I told him.

"me?" he gestures to his narrow chest. I nod.

"yeah. I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable or embarrass you in front of our friends." I explain. he breaks into a grin.

"thanks." like I've given him something. I feel myself smiling as well, and then we're just looking at each other. tension that neither of us is willing to break. as much as I'd like to take him right here right now, he hasn't said anything about actually having sex or even about being attracted to me. for all I know, he could be completely indifferent.

"listen, Spence--"

"would you be willing to--" we speak at the same time, both of us stopping and laughing awkwardly.

"sorry, you go first." I offer, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

"would you want to... um..." he scratches the back of his neck before his eyes meet mine. "try it?"

"sex?" I raise my eyebrows. he nods. I try to find the right response. that’s more assertive than I expected. my pulse is fast, daring me to tell the truth. "I mean-- yes, I would love to-- but are you sure you want it to be with me, Spence? what about a girl that you like?"

"you are a girl that I like." he says this like it's matter-of-fact, like it's obvious. my heart stops in my chest before it starts to hammer.

"really?" a smile makes its way onto my face.

"I thought you knew."

"no." I laugh. my chest is full of sunlight.

"well, you are."

there's a brief silence where I try to get myself back on track. he likes me, too.

"are you sure you want to do this?" I glance at the space between our bodies, which has grown steadily smaller over the course of our conversation. Spencer is watching my every move with an intensity that tells me he's nervous.

"yes." he's unwavering.

"okay, well, you've kissed girls, right?" I inch closer. he nods.

"one."

"oh, Spencer," I sigh contentedly. "I have so much to teach you."

right after I say this, Spencer shifts uncomfortably in his seat. it's only then that I notice his hand covering his lap, the erection that's forming beneath his pants. my eyes flick up to his hungrily.

"sorry." he apologizes.

"don't be." our faces are inches apart and he's practically holding his breath. "I'm gonna kiss you. is that okay?"

"yes." he replies immediately. I place my hands gently on the side of his face, admiring the softness and sharpness of his jaw when I pull him to me, kissing him with a suppressed desire. his mouth is soft against mine, a little anxious to move. after a moment, he starts to relax.

his lips part and I deepen our contact, tilting my head and keeping it mostly mild at first. I don't want to shove my tongue down his throat. our knees are touching and his hand hesitantly finds my waist, the other going to run through my hair. I sigh into him, his fingertips a new sensation that I adore.

Spencer begins to give in a bit more to himself, asserting himself in the kiss and slipping his tongue over my bottom lip. I almost laugh at how quickly he gets the hang of it. he reads my body language effortlessly, not even skipping a beat when I climb into his lap and lace my arms around his neck.

"is this okay?" I pull away momentarily. he nods.

"you're so pretty." an unrelated response, but appreciated nonetheless. I laugh and peck his nose.

"thanks." and then we're back to making out, his hands resting on the small of my back. it's nice. I could stay like this forever, just pressed against Spencer while my fingers thread through his soft hair. he's cautious with me, and it's innocent.

I can feel his boner, can feel from the eagerness of his kisses that he's trying not to bring up the fact that he's literally just throbbing in his pants right now. in order to give him a little of what he wants, I start to rock my hips against his.

Spencer whimpers into my mouth. I stop and look down at him.

"do you want me to stop?"

"no, god, no— never stop." he's mindless in his reply, already grabbing my hips greedily and trying to regain that friction. I shake my head with a chuckle, then resume my actions. he starts to rut up against me, groaning into our embrace while his hands get more adventurous.

I withdraw, breaking the kiss to straighten up. he doesn't stop the microscopic pushes of his hips. I bite back a smile, enjoying the friction, too.

"do you wanna take my clothes off, Spence?" I ask softly.

"y-yes." he replies, gingerly taking the hem of my top and beginning to lift it over my head. when he places it on the couch beside me, his eyes immediately fall to my bra. slender fingers run up my bare waist, his watch glinting in the candlelight. when he doesn't immediately reach to unclasp my bra, I grab his wrist and guide it to the clasps myself. he moves with a surprising ease, unsnapping the thing and grazing over my skin as he slides the straps down my shoulders. I can tell that he’s shaking a tad, but it doesn’t hinder him.

the second that he's discarded the lingerie, he looks up at me with moony eyes.

"can I... kiss you?" he looks at my bare chest. "here?"

"of course, Spence." I nod. he presses his lips to the space between my ribs, drags them up to the valley between my breasts. lingers, then attaches himself to one of my nipples. I sigh, throwing my head back at the way he moves intuitively, sucking and running his tongue over the peak. he squeezes the other breast, plays with the nipple and starts to acquaint himself with the curves of my body.

the whole time, he's straining against my core, rutting helplessly in pleasure. it feels heavenly, with that sweet face of his so devoted to making me feel good, that I nearly stray from the purpose of the experience.

"Spencer..." I breathe. he moans at the sound of his name, then looks up at me from his place sucking on my tits. his teeth graze of my skin and I buck into his lap, causing him to groan appreciatively. my fingers tangle in his soft hair.

"Y/N," he pulls away from my chest, his lips making a soft popping sound. I gaze down at him, a bit lost in the fantasies running through my head. he's a natural. "can we, um-- like, expedite this process a little?"

"expedite the process?” I repeat back to him, giggling at his formality.

"what?" his voice goes up an octave, but he's smiling. "you know what I mean."

"I really do." I lean down, pressing my thumb into his jaw and angling his face up to mine to kiss. while his hands curiously move over my body, I start to push down the waistband of my sweatpants. I break contact just for a moment to peel them off, and he releases a quiet whine. it's cute.

"come back." he says softly, watching as I slide the bottoms down my legs, leaving me in my panties.

"I'm back." I peck his cheek, climb into his lap again. "can we take off your clothes, too?"

"mhmm." he nods. his lips part when my fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a torturous slowness. I can feel his eyes on my face the whole time.

"what?" I chuckle, peeking up at him for a moment before I pull his shirt open and run my palms up his chest, over his shoulders. he nearly shudders at the sheer touch.

"I just can't believe this is actually happening." he smiles in that way of his, like he's suppressing the depth of his emotions, with his brows slightly raised. I take the opportunity to enjoy the sight of him before me, his rapidly rising and falling chest, the smoothness of his skin.

"honestly?" I start to unbutton his pants, and he jerks up into my hand, blushing once he realizes the earnestness of his actions. I smirk encouragingly. "me, neither."

before I pull down his boxers, my eyes flick to his. "is this still okay?"

"Y/N," he groans. "if you don't do something, I'm gonna cum too early." he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment when my hand moves over his clothed erection, like he's holding on. "please."

"sorry." I release him from the confines. it hits his stomach and he waits for my reaction, as if he's afraid that I'll change my mind right now. but I'm definitely not going to. "holy fuck, Spencer."

"what?" he panics slightly, sitting up more. "is it not enough?"

"not enou--" I stutter, almost laugh. "no, it's plenty. I had no idea..."

"oh." he hides the pleased smile on his face, blush spreading over his pretty throat. in the interest of "expediting the process," I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and gently pump him.

Spencer's stomach tenses and he grabs onto the cushion of the couch with a tight fist, sighing.

"mmm..." he doesn't try to word his emotions, but I know. and I like that I'm making him feel this way, sharing this experience. Spencer and I are such close friends, I never thought we'd actually have sex. my assumption was that I'd watch him grow into himself, find a nice girl and treat her like a queen.

but here I am, spitting into my hand before jerking him off to prepare for what’s next. he’s throbbing, sounds coming from his throat.

"I'm gonna sit on it, okay?" I lean down to whisper in his ear. he touches my waist, my neck, kisses a random spot on my chest in the waves of pleasure that I'm giving him.

"o-okay." he mumbles, waiting for me to actually do it. and there's a moment of tense anticipation between both of us, when I sit up and pull my panties to the side. Spencer watches like I'm the only thing in the world, saving the memory of my body on top of his for later.

I run the head of his cock along my entrance, soaking him in the wetness between my thighs. I didn't realize how turned on I'd already gotten, and he lets out a quiet whine when he feels the evidence of how much I want him.

our eyes lock when I sink down. it's a new feeling for him, and the shape of his member as it stretches my walls causes me to bite my lip to withhold moaning too loudly. he whimpers, neck tensing and fingertips digging into my hips.

"o-oh." he sucks in a breath as I reach the halfway point. he's so big, I have to go slow in order not to overwhelm myself. but it feels good, too. like... unbelievably good. I grip onto his shoulders and my head falls forward into his shoulder.

"Spencer, holy shit." I moan.

"does it feel nice?" he asks, concerned for my own pleasure. I feel my chest flutter at the thoughtfulness of the boy wonder even when he's in the midst of losing his virginity, and I lower myself onto the rest of him.

"mhmm," I rest for a moment. "how do you feel?"

"like--" his breath hitches when I begin to rock back and forth on him. "like I've been missing out."

I can't help the giggle that slips past my lips, but then it quickly turns into a longing moan when he starts to thrust up into me like a helpless thing. Spencer is brilliant, but his brain cells go out the window when he throws his head back and begs me to move more.

I nod, raising and lowering myself until we reach a special pace. it's not fast or slow, just the two of us trying to stay in the moment while we hold on tightly to each other. I can feel the cool metal of his watch when he splays his hand out over my spine, the warmth of his breath while he pants against my shoulder.

he hits my g-spot over and over. my moans are torn from my throat by the burning of my lungs. it's like I can't breathe because I'm so focused on chasing the orgasm building in my stomach. and Spencer... I can tell he's almost finished.

the erratic nature of his jerking body tells me.

"I'm gonna cum..." he moans into my neck. "do- do you want me to pull out?"

"no." I arch my back and throw myself into the friction of our bodies. he stares up at me while I ride him, the merciless grinding of my hips because I just can't help myself. "oh my god, Spencer."

he notices how close I am and, in a surprisingly deft move, slides two fingers over my pussy to find my clit. the ensuing noise from me tells him that he's found it, and he begins to rub in quick circles. it's rough and hard, but that's exactly what I need right now.

"cum for me, Spence." I breathe. his free hand grips onto my thigh and pulls me over him, his own words unintelligible within the sounds of absolute pleasure.

"please." he begs for something I don't know, spills his seed inside of my pussy and holds onto me like I'm an anchor to this world while he peers into the next. the feeling of him spreading through my stomach, along with the reckless movements of his limbs and the way he looks at me while he rides out his orgasm, sends me over the edge.

"oh my fuck!" I collapse, grabbing his shoulders tightly and rolling myself down while he removes his fingers from my body. it's jarring, the intensity, like my normal functions can't respond correctly. all I can process is the tightening of my stomach, the pleasure between my legs, vision going slightly fuzzy at the edges. he moans when my cunt flutters around him, the muscles trying desperately to hold him here with me forever. I take deep breaths and slow down, my forehead dropping again while I start to remember my own name.

neither of us speaks. I think I'm still too in shock about what just happened, but in the best way. he keeps running his hands over my skin, then wraps his arms around my torso so that I'm pulled against his chest. I smile, kissing his ear before I finally break the silence.

"hi."

"hi." he's got a satisfied tone.

"do you need anything? water?" I ask, exhausted but realizing that this is still new for Spencer and it's my job to make sure he's as comfortable as possible. he nuzzles his nose into my clavicle and squeezes me tighter.

"stay here with me." there's a slight edge to his words. he's afraid of me leaving. I snuggle down, perfectly happy to remain. heat radiates from his skin, and I like the way it feels.

"of course."

we linger in each other’s arms, both of us coming back into the real world and holding on in an attempt to soften the blow. I just had sex with Spencer.

"thank you." he whispers into my hair.

"for what?" the smile on my face is lazy.

"for doing this."

"well, I really wanted to." I laugh. "so, I guess, thank you, too."

"you're quite welcome." his response is cheerful and then we're both laughing, the sound rumbling from his chest. "can we do it again at some point?"

"I would be happy to." I beam. the contented sigh that leaves his lips, followed by a slight sinking of our bodies down the couch in collective exhaustion, fills me with a joy that's quiet but obvious.

“I’ll last longer next time, I promise.” he says. I can practically hear the blush in his cheeks.

“you did amazing, Spence. don’t worry about it.” I press a few stray kisses to him.

I'll need to go clean up, soon, but it can wait a few more minutes. this is my favorite place on earth.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #virgin spencer #reader x spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid one shot #baby spencer reid

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