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thatweeboverthereisthirsty · 3 months

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Jade & Lilia reacting to their fem s/o that vapes/smokes 👀

Part 4 of S/O Who Vapes/Smokes

(Azul, Jade, Jamil, Lilia)

A/N: ironically I started this before I tried vaping and now I'm trying to quit 😅 (20 days sober lol)

The sheer surprise Azul experiences by seeing a cigarette set casually in your fingers is unexplainable by his standards

Smoke billowed from your parted lips and he let out a small squeak of shock

You turned towards your boyfriend and felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment

“A-Azul! When did you get here?”

“Just in time to see you engaging in a disgusting habit.”

Shame flooded your system and you scowled

In anger you took another long draw and you felt his gaze burn into you

He scowls and marches over to you

You pull back and look at him with defiance but startle when his gaze softens a bit

“Y/N” he started cautiously, “You know I love you and support you no matter what you do, right?”

You nod hesitantly and he continues “But I also want what is best for you and I might come from the sea but I do know a thing or two about stuff that hurts humans.”

It was hard to look him in the eye as he said that and you busied yourself snuffing out the cigarette

“I love you, Angel but this isn’t good for you and you know it.”

“I know but I can’t help it. Azul it helps, it really does.”

He sighs and sits down next to you, his nose wrinkling at the smell of your after smoke.

“There are people who can help… I can look into some resources for you?” he asks careful not to upset you

For a moment you sit in tense silence before finally turning towards him with sad eyes

“Can I try to quit on my own first?”

He smiles and nods at you before kissing you briefly even though you know the smell and taste bothers him

“Of course Angel. I’m with you every step of the way.”

You’ve only been vaping for about a month but you could tell you were already addicted to it

The flavor, the feeling, the smell, the buzz, all of it was more addicting than anything you’ve ever experienced

The problem you had now was that your boyfriend just caught you taking a hit and you were suddenly regretting all of it

Jade was quiet for a moment, standing in your dorm room doorway stiffly

As if he snapped out of a trance he stepped into your room and closed the door behind him as he set his bag down

“So, how was your day?”

You cringed inwardly and looked down at your vape which you still held like it was a lifeline that could save you from this conversation

“Jade…”

“My day was good, Floyd tried to beat up a student and Azul wants me back early tonight to test out a new recipe before he opens the lounge”

His eyes met yours and you saw cold indifference in them

It hurt your heart to see him like this after you spent so long trying to get to the softer side of him which he rarely let anyone see, not even Floyd had been given that privilege since they were kids

“Jade!”

He raised an eyebrow and sighed dramatically as he sat on your bed

“Listen little Coral, I don’t care what you do or don’t do with your life but I do know that there are other ways to handle your problems.”

You bit your lip, feeling like a scolded child

“You will get through this and next time you feel the urge to bring that nasty device to your precious lips, come to me and I will distract them with a much more therapeutic activity.”

You blushed wildly and gawked up at him

“Now about that test you have tomorrow” he said with a smirk

You scowled at the thought of the impending doom that loomed over you then grinned as an idea struck you

“You know Jade, I’m kinda feeling like vaping right now. Maybe I could take you up on that offer?”

Needless to say, you didn’t get much studying done

It’s late when Jamil finds you smoking off the balcony at Scarabia

Kalim had invited you to stay the night after another one of his parties and you agreed knowing it would make the childish dorm leader happy

You didn’t expect that anyone else would be up this late so when you heard a shocked gasp you startled

Jamil had been on his way to the kitchen to make some tea for Kalim who was having trouble sleeping but strayed from his original task to take the cigarette from your hand

“What are you doing?!”

You rolled your eyes as if you were annoyed even though you just didn’t want to see the disappointment in his gaze

He waits patiently for a response but when it’s clear he isn’t going to get one he sighs

He takes your hand gently and pulls you towards him into a hug

“I know that you can’t help it if you are addicted but if you aren’t yet please stop. I love your voice and I love you, I can’t imagine not having either one day because of this.”

You look up at him with shameful tears in your eyes and he frowns as he wipes them gently

“I’m sorry Jamil.”

“I know, and I’m sorry you feel like you have to do this.”

The two of you talk for hours into the night about how he can help you and eventually you fall asleep in his arms

Lilia has seen and tried just about everything there is to try so when he sees you with a mysterious device in your mouth he is confused

You pull the vape device from your lips and he watches as white vapor follows it

As he gets closer he notes that it smells like the fruity scent you usually have

He had assumed it was some kind of perfume but he supposes it probably comes from your peculiar vapor device

That's when it hits him- the smell of nicotine hidden under sickly flavoring

Any normal human wouldn’t be able to scent something so subtle but to him it’s as if you had bathed in the stuff

“Love?” he appears next to you suddenly

Months ago that would have scared you but now you found it endearing

“Lilia!” you exclaim, slipping your vape into your pocket in what you hoped was a natural and unnoticeable way

He raised an eyebrow and summoned the vape to his hand and held it in front of you

“What is this odd device?” he asks in his rare serious tone

Sighing you explain to him that it is a modern way of smoking and that it is healthier than cigarettes so it is ok to do

He frowns through your explanation

“First, nothing that contains addictive non-prescription substances could ever be healthy in any way, second I can smell the chemicals that are no doubt doing damage to your lungs as we speak.”

Maybe he was being a little dramatic but he knew how sensitive humans were to these things and he would do anything to keep his human healthy and safe

You look at the ground while he speaks and he sighs in frustration

He doesn’t want you to feel scolded or ashamed, he just gets nervous about your health

“We will figure it out ok love? For now can you try not to do it as often?”

You nod and he kisses you soundly, Lilia will do anything for his human and he vows to find an alternative to your vaping device that allows you to feel secure in yourself and him to feel secure in your health

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #jamil x reader #azul x reader #jade x reader #lilia x reader

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crypticreid · 8 months

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KINKTOBER DAY THREE

October 8 -- Begging

masterlist

author's note: this was supposed to be mutual masturbation, but I wasn't feeling it, so I switched it to begging. Thank you again for everyone reading and supporting. 💕💕💕 If you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know! 🎃🎃🎃

summary: Spencer can't help but be upset with the choice you made, so he takes out his frustration in your hotel room later.

warnings: female reader, dom!spencer, begging, a little bit of 'good girl', hand job, fingering, female receiving oral, multiple orgasms

word count: 3.6k

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

His eyes flick over to you, and you can read him like a book. The anger and frustration battle across his features as he opens his mouth to argue against your suggestion. You speak before he can, “I know this is dangerous, but I trust all of you to keep me safe. We have to do this.” Spencer slams his mouth shut and forcefully turns his head from you. Your stomach drops, but you know you’re making the right decision. This case will be over in a couple of hours, and then you can talk this out with him, and everything will be fine.

If anyone notices Spencer’s reaction, they don’t say anything. Instead, most of the team looks at you with worried expressions. Hotch is assessing you, his arms crossed tight over his broad chest. “This guy is erratic and unpredictable.” He says in his calm and calculated tone.

“He’s going to attack tonight. We know that this vigil is going to draw him. He can’t resist it. All I need to do is distract him long enough for you to move in.” You explain rationally. “We can’t allow more people to die, and I’m the only one who hasn’t been identified as an agent by the media.”

You refuse to break eye contact with Hotch. You steady your breathing and straighten your shoulders. You’re confident in this choice, and Hotch knows you won’t back down. He nods, “okay.”

“Okay?” Spencer interjects, his voice breaking slightly from his heightened emotion. “You can’t be serious, Hotch.”

“This is her choice.” Hotch answers, and everyone in the room seems to hold their breath as they wait for you to reply.

Hotch clears his throat, “let’s get started. We’ve got four hours until the vigil.”

You level your gaze at Spencer, trying to telepathically tell him you’re sorry. “I have to do this.” Spencer’s jaw sets hard. You see the muscles flex against each other. He turns away from you and leaves the room.

“He’s just worried. We all are.” Emily reaches out for you and rubs a comforting hand up and down your arm. You nod.

You don’t see Spencer again until you’re in the SUV five blocks away from the site of the vigil. Morgan had spent the entire ride over repeating the plan to you and making sure you understood exactly where everyone else was going to be. You kept nodding and letting him start over again because you knew that this was how Morgan made himself feel better about the situation. Before he got out of the vehicle, he had reached over to the passenger seat and grasped your shoulder. “You’re brave. And you’re damn good at your job. We’ll catch this bastard.”

Now you’re alone, glancing at the watch on your wrist. In ten minutes, you’re going to get out of the car and walk toward the vigil. It’s chilly enough that you have a jacket on, and it doesn’t even look like you’re wearing a vest underneath your clothing. You let out a shaky breath and try to calm your nerves.

You jump when the passenger door swings open and you reach for your holster automatically. “It’s me.” Spencer says, and you take your hand away.

“You’re supposed to already be at the vigil.” You mutter and look straight ahead out the windshield because you can’t look at him. You can’t handle seeing any sort of anger on his face.

“I know.” He says your name, and you turn to face him. The anger in his eyes has dissipated, and only fear remains.

“Spencer, I’ll be –” You start, but you’re interrupted by his hands grabbing the side of your face and pulling you in for a kiss. It’s forceful and meaningful, and your hands find a tight grip on his shoulders. The two of you say goodbye to each other with your lips and tongues, neither one of you wanting to break apart, to face reality.

Finally, he pulls away from you and sets his hands on your shoulders. “Be safe. Please.”

You incline your head toward his, connecting your forehead to his. “I will.”

He kisses you again, with less force, but with the same meaning, and then steps away and closes the car door. You watch as he walks down the alley until he completely disappears. And then a few minutes later, you get out and walk the opposite direction down the alley.

Your hotel room is dark, and only the lights on the nightstand work, but you’re too exhausted to complain. After wrapping the case, Hotch had told everyone to head to the hotel for a few hours, and you would fly out in the morning. No one argued because you hadn’t even seen your hotel room since landing.

You’ve taken a shower, changed into pajamas, and started to get comfortable in bed when there’s a knock on your door. You climb out of bed and look through the peephole to see Spencer standing in the hallway. Quickly, you open the door and step aside for him to come inside. As soon as you shut the door and turn around, he has his hands on you, your waist, your hips, shaky hands traveling across your skin.

“I’m okay, Spencer. Not even a scratch. I’m fine.” You reassure him with a calm and steady voice. He doesn’t stop his hands and won’t look you in the eyes, so you reach out for him. Your own hands hold onto both sides of his face and force him to look into your eyes. “I’m fine.” You repeat.

He swallows and nods and blinks away the tears that were gathering in his eyes. “Don’t do that again, please.”

You know you can’t promise that, but you also know that Spencer doesn’t want to hear that right now. “Okay.” He kisses your cheek. “Okay.” He kisses your other cheek and then your forehead and, finally, your lips. His hands on your hips pull you tighter against him like he can’t have you close enough, like he wants the two of you to merge together as one person. Your hands move up into his hair, fingers tangling into soft locks, nails scratching against his scalp. His moan vibrates against your lips, and he deepens the kiss. His grip on your hips is vice-like. You groan into his mouth.

He mumbles your name, and you answer with a moan, suddenly desperate for every part of him. The stress of the day comes to a head, and you just want your mind to go blank. Spencer is the only person who can make your brain stop its constant ruminations.

“Please, Spencer.” You urge him with your words, but also a quick movement of your hips against him. You move your hands away from his hair and down the back of his neck toward his clavicle and then start to fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

You only get one button undone before he says, “stop.” He breaks away from your lips, and his hands wrap around both of your wrists and pull your hands off of his shirt. When you look into his eyes, the anger is back, not as fiery and passionate as it was hours before but low and simmering just below the surface. “You think you just get what you want after that?”

His voice is heavy with emotion, and it zings straight to your lower belly. You want to smile, but press your lips together instead and shake your head.

“Answer me.”

“No.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t give you anything tonight, huh?” He moves one of your wrists into his other hand so that he has both of them wrapped in one hand. The hand that's now free moves to your neck, a finger trailing down to your clavicle. You swallow against it. “I should leave this room right now. Leave you all alone and so needy.”

You swallow again. “Spencer, please.”

He lifts your wrists above your head and pushes you up against the door of the hotel room in rapid succession. You let out a sharp gasp at the movement. “Please, what? What do you want?” His other hand has found another place back on your hip, gripping it, his thumb rubbing back and forth on a bit of skin peeking out from your old Academy t-shirt.

“Please don’t leave.” You whisper. The hand on your hip slides underneath your shirt and up your stomach toward your breasts. His fingertips are barely there against your skin, enough to make your skin tingle, and goosebumps bloom, but not enough to satiate any need for his touch.

He drags one of his fingers across the underside of your breast, and your hands twitch in his grasp above your head. He twists his grip and tightens it.

The hand near your breast spreads across your breast and grabs it. You arch your back into his touch. “You need it so bad, don’t you?”

“Yes. I need it.” You don’t even attempt to play coy and press your thighs together, trying to get any sort of relief between them.

Spencer ducks his head against your exposed neck and kisses it roughly, nips at it without leaving a mark, and then licks and soothes where his teeth nibbled. “Are you going to listen?”

You nod before realizing that you need to answer verbally. “Yes. Yes. I will. I promise.”

He laughs against your neck. His breaths on your skin make you press your thighs tighter together. “You’re going to do as you’re told.” It isn’t a question.

“Yes.” You confirm.

His lips find yours again, and the hand up your shirt tightens on your breast, his thumb finding your nipple, teasing it back and forth. He kisses you slowly, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth and then racing to brush his tongue against it. A constant tug of war between a ping of pain and a rush of comfort. You take all of it, anything he is willing to give you, you want all of it.

When his thumb and pointer finger takes your nipple and rolls it between a pinch of his fingers, you let out a desperate noise.

“Spencer.”

He makes a deep noise from the back of his throat but doesn’t stop kissing you or pinching your nipple. A pulse all of its own begins in your core, fluttery and demanding.

“I’ll do anything, please.” He bites at your clavicle, the only place he’s marked you so far because he knows it will be covered by your shirt in the morning.

“You’re going to leave your hands above your head, do you understand?” He finally instructs.

“Yes.”

“You don’t get to touch me.”

“Spencer,” you start to protest, but you look into his eyes and stop yourself.

“You touch me, and I stop. Do you understand?”

You swallow. “Yes.”

“Good.” He goes back to your neck, teasing and tasting your skin, driving you crazy with want. But you don’t dare move. If he pulls away completely now and leaves, you think you might lose your mind.

In between his soft bites, he instructs, “I’m going to let go of your wrists, okay? But you’re not going to move them. Leave them exactly where they are. And then I’m going to get on my knees and make you come as many times as I want. But if you touch me at all, I’m going to go back to my hotel room and leave you here all alone. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nod feverishly. He lets go of your wrists, and you don’t move a muscle.

He smiles smugly and pinches your nipple one last time before sliding down to his knees in front of you. His fingers graze up the back of your calves and thighs and then to the front of your thighs. He pushes your legs apart, and you lean back further on the door for support as he pulls down your pajama pants, leaving your underwear on.

“Look at you,” he tuts. “Soaking through your panties just from a couple of kisses.”

You let out a frustrated breath. “It was more than a couple kisses.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks, and you slam your mouth shut. “Are you going to waste my time? Talking back with that smart mouth?”

“No.”

“I can think of better uses for that mouth. You can’t talk back with my cock down your throat, can you?”

You swallow harshly, and you feel yourself getting wetter. “No, I can’t.”

He leans forward, and you hold your breath, waiting, but he kisses your inner thigh instead. And then he starts the same pattern of kissing and nipping he’d done earlier, but now on your thigh. His hands are on your ass, massaging and rubbing. As he moves to your other thigh, he makes a point to incline toward the place you need him so desperately, but he only exhales across it. You whimper, and you feel the turn of a smile on his lips as he presses into your thigh.

It is basically torture, and it’s taking every single ounce of self control you have not to grab his head and put him exactly where you want him. You know you can’t, so you beg instead, “please, Spencer. I can’t take the teasing anymore.”

“Aw, my poor baby.” He taunts, and you grunt when he pulls away completely and removes his hands. He sits back on his heels and looks up at you. “Take off your shirt.”

You do what he asks rapidly and then put your hands back above your head without him asking. He smiles, “good girl.”

The room is dim, shadows play across his face, but he watches you as you breathe, your breasts rising and falling. He lifts hands and presses his palms up your stomach and then back down, causing more goosebumps springing up across your skin, toward your core, but he bypasses it and travels down your thighs instead. “I think you’ve ruined these panties, baby.” He laughs, mesmerized by the growing wet spot. Your clit is throbbing and you feel like you could fall apart with only one single touch from him.

“What would you do if I stopped now?” He wraps his hands across your thighs and squeezes and then looks up to your eyes. “Stood up and walked out of this room?”

You would probably spend the rest of your night touching yourself until you couldn’t handle it, but you don’t want that. “Please don’t.” You reply instead. “Please touch me, Spencer.”

He squeezes your thighs again. “I am touching you.”

You groan, frustrated. “Touch my pussy, please. I need it.” You give in. He can’t help his smile as he moves one hand over slightly and uses his thumb to touch the wet spot on your underwear. He presses into you over the fabric. It’s only the tip of the iceberg, but you moan anyway because you’re so desperate.

He presses deeper, wetting his thumb through the fabric, and then moves it upward, finally rubbing over your throbbing clit. You let out a shaky breath and lean forward slightly. His thumb rubs up and down on your clit lightly, practically a feather-like touch. He doesn’t use any pressure on it. You move your hips forward, trying to force some pressure, but just pulls away.

“Spencer.” You whimper.

He laughs, “so whiney.” He puts his thumb back and continues in the exact same way as before. You lean back fully back on the door with a small cry. “Do you want to come?” He asks.

You screw your eyes shut and nod furiously.

“Open your eyes and answer me.”

You force your eyes open. “I want to come, please, Spencer.” You try to get rid of the whine in your voice, but you don’t succeed.

“Yeah, I can tell you do.” He uses just a little more pressure on your clit and begins to circle it. You shiver and let out a pitiful moan. “So needy. So desperate.” He mutters and leans forward to kiss along your thigh again. Your hips buck against him involuntarily. “You can come whenever you want, baby.”

“I need more.”

“No.” He kisses your thigh again and looks up to your eyes. “You come from this.” You curl your toes on the floor and push your head back. “I’ll give you more when you come.” His thumb continues its barely enough circles on your clit and you exhale. “Don’t you want more?”

“Yes!” You huff.

“Then come.” He nips your inner thigh, moving closer and closer to your clenching pussy, but never actually reaching it. His other hand moves back to your ass and he kisses your other thigh. You can feel the deep pleasure at the base of your spine and you give yourself over to it. “That’s it, so good, baby. Come just like this.”

You come hard and force your hands to stay above your head, your hips bucking against Spencer’s hand. He moves his hand from your ass and holds onto your hip to stay your movements. Once you come down from your high he pulls down your underwear and sticks his thumb into your pussy.

“You're dripping, baby.” He murmurs and fingers you for a few seconds until swiping the thumb back up to your clit. You’ve barely had time to recover from your first orgasm and you let out a small breathy shout. “Ssshh, we can’t let anyone else hear how needy you are.”

You bit your lip to contain your whimpers. Spencer’s thumb circles your clit, using the pressure you need. Another wave of pleasure is already rising, gathering low in your belly. “Do you want my fingers, baby?”

“Please. Spencer. Yes. I need them. Please.” You ramble.

He takes the hand that’s on your hip and inserts his middle and ring fingers into you, immediately pressing into you, rubbing against the spot inside you that makes you want to scream. You swallow the shout that you can’t let out and instead continue to ramble to Spencer. Your legs shake as you give into another wave of pleasure.

“That’s it, give me another one. So good, baby.” You come against his hand again, but this time Spencer doesn’t let you come down from it. Instead, he moves the hand off your clit and grips your hip to hold you in place as his mouth replaces his hand. You ride his tongue through the aftershocks of your orgasm and let the next wave begin to crest. His fingers never falter as he fingers you. He pulls away for only a split second, “touch me.”

Your hands fall from the door instantly and tangle in his hair, grasping and scratching, finally getting to push him harshly into you. He moans against you, sending vibrations up your body. You come one more time with a small shout, as quiet as you can. Your legs are shaky and unstable, but Spencer holds you tightly as he takes his time licking you clean.

When he stands up to his full height, you pull him into a kiss and then lower your hands down to his belt. He breaks the kiss, “I don’t have a condom.”

You kiss him and continue to take off his belt. “I don’t care.” You get his belt undone, unbuckle his pants, and reach in to take him in your hand. He’s unbelievably hard. The feeling of him is so heavy in your hand.

He puts his hands on your shoulders as he takes a shuddering breath. “You should care. We haven’t talked about this yet. And you’re in the heat of the moment.” He rationalizes.

You stick out your bottom lip because you know he’s right. “Can we talk about it later? Cause I want you, all of you.” You squeeze the base of him. His eyes flutter shut and then flip back open as he licks his bottom lip.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll talk about it.” Then he kisses you again as you pump your hand up and down on him, your thumb swiping at his leaking head. “Oh shit. Don’t stop.” He stutters against your lips. His kisses are sloppy and nothing like his calculated kisses earlier, but you don’t care. He’s pumping his hips into you, so completely lost in the feeling of your hand on him.

It doesn’t take long until he’s moaning into your mouth, “so good. You’re so good,” he rambles. One of his hands reaches for your hair and pulls your head back so he can look into your eyes. You bite your bottom lip, and he comes in his pants with a harsh grunt.

He kisses you, and you keep moving your hand until he’s hissing from sensitivity and pulling away from you.

The hand in your hair tightens and pulls you back into a deep kiss until you're both breathless. You subtly wipe your hand on his underwear because they’re already a mess, and then both hands hold onto his waist until his kisses slow down.

“I’m sorry for being angry.” He finally says.

“We’ll talk tomorrow. I guess today, technically. But at home, I mean.” He looks into your eyes, searching.

He nods. “Okay.” And he kisses you again, light and feathery. “I need to go clean up before we leave.”

Your fingers play with the edge of his pants. “Or you could stay, and I could clean you up.” You offer with a not so innocent smile.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He kisses you chastely and pulls away. He looks around for your shirt and pants and then helps you get dressed again. “See you on the jet.”

You step away from the door and let him leave. In a few hours, you’ll have to board the jet and pretend that the genius profiler on your team didn’t just give you three mind blowing orgasms, so for now you allow yourself to watch him walk down the hotel hallway. He scrambles to buckle his belt as he walks and then runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. You go back into your room with a smile.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #my writing

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i2ycat · 1 month

Text

way too late

pairing jake x gn!reader synopsis in which you come to the realisation that you’ve been loving jake all this time way too late genre angst, fluff, friends to ??, hurt w comfort word count 0.7k warnings little mention of blood, kissing with a bloody lip main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

Jake’s hand softly caresses your face, tears brimming his eyes as he holds his suitcase in the other with a vice grip. It was evident that he didn’t want to leave either, not with how your relationship was starting to blossom so beautifully in the spring.

“Can’t you just stay?” you plead, finally mustering up the courage to reciprocate the intensity of his stare. You could see his face soften even further, brows furrowing and gaze dropping to his feet in an attempt to choke down the impulse to drop everything and run back to your open arms, to where everything would’ve been in its place and nothing else would matter. It would just be you two against the world.

Your heart clenches almost painfully in its place. “Can’t we just go back to where we were?” you continue, even though you know that it is damn near impossible. This was the last page of your shared chapter, ink no longer tracing the lines of his name or the crinkles of his eye smiles; the last paragraph of his current existence—the boy you met in your first year of college, the boy that loved you more than anything.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, throat constricting as he continues to stare at the ground.

You bite into your lip harsh enough to draw blood because you were frustrated at the world, at the entire damn universe for presenting you with the one boy who understood everything about you without much toiling and then taking him away the moment you realized just how much you’ve loved him and wanted him in your life.

He didn’t even need to try hard to make you forget all about your problems; just his existence was comfort enough. He was your only safe place as you navigated yourself in this confusing world.

The absurdity of it all made you want to laugh, even through the tears.

“I hate you,” you say.

Jake looks up and searches your eyes for any confirmation, which he obviously doesn’t get because you love him and he knows that you love him more than just any friend would.

He releases his grip on the handle of his suitcase and brings you into a hug. His perfume and warmth engulfed you almost entirely, which made you damn near sob like a baby in the middle of the airport.

Your chokes drowned and died down in Jake’s hoodie as you proceeded to tell him that you hated him.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, bringing your face from his shoulder towards his own. “I know you don’t.”

It felt like the world had stopped then and there, much like the first time you met him. You didn’t want to admit it at the time, but you fell in love at first sight with Jake, in his baggy jeans and hoodie, adorning an expression akin to that of a lost puppy. You were the ultimate fool for only realizing that now.

His dewy brown eyes drew you physically closer, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. You could taste the irony of your own blood against Jake’s own lips, but you were not in the right headspace to be caring enough about proper hygiene.

This was your personal euphoria, but in a few hours time, it was just going to be the last line you wrote as you reminisced, so you hurried to savor his cherry-flavored chapstick and commit it to your memory forever.

Everyone else in this space and time was just a part of the flurry of emotions that you felt as you kissed Jake. This was the first time, but you’ve already acknowledged it as the last, even if you didn’t want it to be.

Even through the dull ache in your lungs, you kissed Jake, and only until you'd used up the last of your oxygen did you stop for air.

The two of you panted and huffed, your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms around your waist.

The cold air of the airport brings you back to the reality that Jake will no longer be in your arms like he is right now, so you take the opportunity to finally say what has been on your mind the very moment you met him: “I love you, and I hate that I do.”

“Even when you’re admitting that you love me, you still won’t hold back on the ‘I hate you’ stuff.” his lips crack into a smile. “Well then, I love that I love you, Y/n, more than anything in this entire world.”

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lesbianlores · 9 months

Text

Quick drabble

Parings: shuriri x reader

Contains: Strap! riri, major overstimulation, praise, punishment, aftercare.

A/N: Little gift for my night owls 🫶🏾 (Shuri doesn’t do much here but watch)

After cumming for the 3rd time tonight Riri still hasn’t came to a halt with her harsh trusts, your hips were bruised and face stained with tears. Shuri watched from a distance in the corner of the room as Ri angrily pounds into your pussy, holding your legs up and far apart from the back of your thighs biting hard on your neck, hard enough to slightly draw blood.

You turn your head towards Shuri with a look on your face that says “Please help.” and a hand reaching out as you call her name.

“Shuri, Shuri!” You cry but Ri quiets your pleading with a hand to your mouth as you grip on her arm as some sort of support. This is hell for you, makes you regret purposefully flirting with that girl at the party just to spite them over a rumor that was spread by press.

Had you handled this maturely by confronting them in the first place instead of believing pathetic people over the internet looking for drama you wouldn’t be here.

“Don’t call for her, she won’t help you. You did this to yourself mama, now take it like a big girl.” She sarcastically motivated you with a cocky smirk on her face, you can tell Shuri felt guilty. She was always more gentle with you during punishments, that’s why they agreed to leave the punishing to Riri. But this is getting out of hand, your eyes and cunt are red from this torture that has gone on for hours.

You cant take anymore, your head is spinning as you cum once again. The safe word is right at the tip of your tongue until you hear Shuri’s voice.

“Riri, I think that’s enough. She looks like she’s about to pass out.” Shuri says getting up to take a closer look at you.

Riri on the other hand can’t even think straight, the volume of her rage overpowers anything else she didn’t even hear what Shuri said. As Shuri predicted your body is slowing becoming limp, too weak to mutter a word as your head glides back, you feel like your body is powering off like a dead phone.

“Ri that’s enough!” Shuri forcefully pushed her back by the arm, your breathing hard as if you just came from a body of water trying to catch your breath. Cum still oozing from your fucked out pussy while you hover your hand over it in pain.

“Shit.” Ri says out of breath.

“Damn, almost killed the girl.” Shuri laughed, getting a chuckle out of the both of you.

“Im sorry ma, cmer let us clean up this mess.” Ri said carefully scoping you off the bed while Shuri starts a bath. “You took it so well f’me, I should’ve went that hard. I’m sorry baby.” she said with sympathy.

“It’s okay my love, I’m sorry for trying to make the two of you jealous. That wasn’t the smartest thing to do.” You said through a crack of your voice with a faint smile, accepting the small peck on your lips Shuri offered before slowly helping Riri with lowering you into the tub.

A/N: I have actual fics in line for uploading guys, please be patient with me 😩.

#riri black panther #riri williams imagine #shuri udaku #shuriri x reader #riri smut #riri wiliams x reader #shuriri smut #shuriri #riri x y/n #riri x f!reader

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lovesby · 8 months

Text

HOLD ME, HAND. a handmade Renchanting zine by me! Transcripts, and image descriptions under the cut. Experience it on my website! (Transcripts inline on there.)

Pictured is the cover and back cover of the zine. The back cover is the same style scribbled black vertical line, but less dense, and with a streak of red scribbled lines towards the top half of the page.

Page 1 and 2 of the zine. On the left, the page behind the cover, has a crude drawing of the Dogwarts banner in red pen. It is an almost fully red banner with three white triangles at the bottom edge. The text on the side of the page, written along the side edge, says “a hand made Renchanting zine by SBY.” Renchanting is in red text, as is SBY. SBY is circled like a signature. On page two, there is a poem, titled “how it ends”, aligned left, in plain black text. It says; Let’s try this again: You go into fruitless labor for fruitless/business for fruitless prizes in fruitless/games. No winning here, there is none./I know that. I see it. I’ve seen it all ahead/of time, I see it clearly now. Play/stupid games, play stupid pretend. No/winning. I know. But this time I’ll play along, stupid games./This time, I’ll climb up the hill and see/you there, and walk the other/way. I’ll know better. I’ll leave you to it. A gentle/nod. Magic can’t save us, in the end./Love can’t mean anything if I know -how it ends.

Pages 3 and 4 of the zine. On the left page, page 3, is a poem written diagonally down the page. Once in black, then repeated in red. It is titled “on you.”/”(on you)” and the title is both on top and on the bottom of the poem to be read with the rest. The poem reads, “on you. drawn to you like gravity draws the axe to meet its mark (on you). drawn to you like gravity draws the axe to meet its mark” On page 4, on the right, is a sketchy drawing of a handaxe, colored in slightly with blue pen and red hearts scribbled around the sharp end of the axe instead of blood. On the handle, all caps cut off text reads, “Red winter is-”

Pages 5 and 6 of the zine are in all black ink. This is a two page spread of a poem titled “puppy love”. The title is horizontal down the middle spine. On the bottom half, under the large block of poem text, is drawn the roots and trunk of a tree. On the top half, on the right page, above the text, is drawn the top half of the same tree. The text on the left reads, “I don’t fully understand what it is/about you that makes me want to/run and hide under the tall dark/oaks. Something about you makes/me scared like a child, not devoted/to some thing or another. Or another/thing. I don’t fully understand what/it is that makes my heart tug and/beat when someone else is near you./Like something or another, pulling/me closer.” The text on the bottom half of page 6 reads, “I don’t need to understand what it is/about you that makes me want to put the/wooden handle in your firm calloused hands./The hands I held in mine, planting row/after row of garden in the soil in/front of the shack your calloused hands/helped build, behind the walls your hands/helped me build. I feel it too. So I’m/putting this in your hands, now."

Pages 7 and 8 of the zine. On the right is a crude drawing of a red crescent moon with three black birds in front of it. On the right is a poem titled, “be still, be ready (steady)”. The title is written vertically on the middle spine again. In red pen, complementing the black ink text of the poem is a scribbled red cloud and red snowflakes. The poem reads: and with the palpitations in/my throat i finally/understood what it would/feel like to eat a/heart while it was still/beating. i’m holding your heart in my hands/and swallowing it whole./you asked me to, and now i am, i’m/swallowing you whole.

Pages 9 and 10 are a mostly white page space two page spread of black lowercase text, that simply reads, very spread out, on a top left to bottom right diagonal, “oh./i understand,/now.”

Pages 11 and 12 of the zine are the first part of a four page spread of one poem meant to be read from left to right ignoring the middle spine. There is a long arrow at the cutoff at the end of the page, indicating that the poem continues. It is in black ink and says; The wagon jumps --- not for joy. Executioner’s boots squeal/at the same frequency of the damn wheels creak. The same joy/peverted [sic]. I never understood an axe until I became one./Sharpen me,/deep repetitive motion, make me feel/good. How I touch/the scar around your neck and know/I made it --- mine, mine. I smell bile/feel it in my throat too, and/I look up to see one of the men,/big and strong framed/an ox/of a man and gentle like one Pages 13 and 14, continuing the 4 page spread. The rest of the text says; has thrown up onto the road. Leaving it/pieces of him in our wake. I don’t throw up/even if I feel like/I left myself somewhere else. Becoming the axe, becoming the axe. Long road home/to take it back. Bury me/in someone else’s/hand. The title of the poem is revealed on the bottom right of the last page; “Long Live the King”. Above it is a drawing of an open eye and a closed eye in red ink.

#renchanting #treebark #trafficshipping #fandom zine #3rd life #martyn inthelittlewood #rendog #debated whether to put this on my art blog but there's more writing #so it goes here!#at some point ill make it look good on the site but for now itll do #poetry

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wrenhyperfixates · 11 months

Text

Synopsis/tw: Dottore taking care of you because that’s what I need right now :’) not proofread. reader’s a bit depressed/has been crying a lot. gn!reader. non-sexual nudity. it’s sfw but below a cut bc it’s a bit long I’m slowly turning into a dottore fanfic blog ig

People say that to feel your heart break, you have to have a heart. Well, Dottore was pretty sure he didn’t have one, yet he felt a distinct ache in his chest when he saw your eyes, puffy and red. And those small gasps and winces as you slow and hide your sobs.

Dottore closed the door slowly behind him so as not to disturb you where you sat on the couch. Heaving a hefty sigh, he removed his mask and sat next to you. You’d screwed your eyes shut to help stop the flow of tears. When it became clear you weren’t going to be opening them any time soon, he sighed again.

“Love, look at me.”

Though his words were a short, simple command, the gentleness hidden in the tone of his voice—gentleness you knew him well enough to hear—turned the phrase into a plea.

For anyone else, his face would be set into a grim look of annoyance. New as he was to the soft feelings he held for you, he tried to keep such an expression, but his eyebrows still drew into a tight line of concern.

Eyes not quite yet dry, you do as he asks, gaze darting around a bit, but ultimately looking at the doctor.

“You’ve some nerve, trying to hide something from me,” he spoke again. Dottore cupped your cheek and you immediately leaned into the warmth of his gloved palm. “Just give me a name, and I’ll have whoever hurt you chained to a lab table by sunrise.”

A gasp flies past your lips, followed by a small chuckle. “Thanks, ‘ttore. Though no one did this, I’m just…”

He allows you the time to pick your words, waiting patiently for you to continue, and stroking your cheek with his thumb in the meanwhile.

“…overwhelmed,” you finish after a few moments. “Overwhelmed with- Archons, overwhelmed just by life itself.”

A sob breaks your voice as you finish your sentence, more salty trails staining your cheeks as tears once again spill from your eyes. Before you can blink them away, Dottore has pressed you to his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

“Now, now,” he tuts. “You underestimate me.”

“What? You gonna tie my feelings up in your lab?” you tease, though your tone lacks some of the mirth you tried to force into it. Still, it earns a laugh from Dottore.

“Hm, perhaps not. But it is nothing I can’t handle. I am used to working with machinery on the brink of disrepair and volatile chemicals… Perhaps it is not the most apt analogy for humans and their feelings, but I do know how to handle things with care.”

Humming in thought, you snuggle closer to his chest to muffle the small sobs that you haven’t yet gotten under control. In the silence you realized the second harbinger, a force of nature, had a very steady heartbeat and his stoic presence was somehow calming.

“Ok.”

“Good. Now love, I’ll need you to do as I say, but it is of the utmost importance that you make it known if I do anything that causes you to be uncomfortable.”

After waiting for you to nod in affirmation, he bids you to stand and follow him. Though, you don’t hesitate, you weren’t expecting your destination to be the bathroom.

Dottore ran the water so the tub would fill as he rummaged through some draws, pulling out a variety of jars and bottles. Some seemed to be what he was looking for and others he cast aside. From the looks of it, maybe you couldn’t be sure you weren’t about to become one of his experiments.

“Love,” he calls over his shoulder, “I’ll need you to strip, if you’re feeling up to it. There’s a robe on the hook by the door if you want it.”

Heart-skipping a beat you do as you say, fastening the plush robe tightly around you. It smells strongly of your lover, and you wonder if the musk is from his soap or if it’s his natural scent.

Dottore has the bath ready quickly, water warm and dotted with bubbles and rose petals. With your permission, he removes the robe from your body and helps you into the water. The rolled up sleeves of his button down get wet as he helps you get settled, but if he notices he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Everything ok so far.”

“Yes, ‘torre.” Your eyes shine with gratitude as you look at him. They still shine with tears too, but for the moment, your mind is elsewhere. “Thank you. Sorry to make you take time out of your day for this.”

Laughing he shakes his head. “My schedule always includes time for you. Besides, I take pride in what is mine. And love, lest you forget, you are mine.”

To anyone else, those words from the mad doctor would be enough to set their heart beating at a rapid pace and a shoot a tingle straight down their spine. To you, those words were coated in honey, whispered against your skin, and punctuated with a kiss to each of your fingertips.

Relishing in his touch, you nod and do your best to relax in the water. Dottore continues to whisper sweet reassurances into the steamy air of the bathroom, observing each microscopic change to your expression so he could adjust his words to be exactly what you need. His love was genuine, even if the way he expressed it was carefully calculated.

When he feels the water begin to dip in temperature, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles to capture your attention, then looks you right in the eye as he speaks.

“I intend to wash you, if you are alright with that.”

Turning over the prospect over in your head, you reach a conclusion faster than you expected, but the answer rolls off your tongue naturally. “Yes.”

He does not hesitate before setting to work. His hands, devoid of gloves unlike earlier, make direct contact with your skin. They’re calloused, and for saying he knew how to handle things with care, they treated you a bit rougher than expected. But, perhaps it was intentional as there was a sort of calming effect to strong, decisive actions. Something that kept you grounded when you felt you were drifting away.

Dottore took his time lathering the soap on your body before rinsing it away, following up by doing the same to your hair, massaging your scalp and skin as best as he could as went. Despite not being particularly practiced with giving massages, in tandem with the sweet nothings he began to softly whisper again, it did more than enough to calm your tensed body.

Once done with the washing and with your approval once again, Dottore begins to pat you dry. Instead of trekking to your room to fetch your own things, he pulls out his own clothes for you to wear, leaving you to change while he acquires some pastries you had stored in the fridge.

“Feeling better, love?”

Dipping the bed as he takes a seat next to you, he rests the tray on his lap. You reclaim your place snuggled into his side as you grab a pastry and pop it into your mouth. Fiddling with the buttons of his shirt which you now wear, you hum your affirmation.

The corners of his mouth turn down. “Promise?”

You eat a couple more pastries before answering. “Yes. I am feeling better. Having you here, the way you’ve taken care of me helped. Honest!… I’m just maybe not all better yet.”

“Mmm, well, that can’t be helped. Healing is a slow process for any wound, and I would not expect the ebb and flow of you anxiety to suddenly bow to my whim.”

“Yeah. Any chance you can keep helping though?”

He polishes off a couple pastries of his own before offering you the last one and setting the tray on the bedside table. Pulling you into his lap, he tugs the blanket so it rests securely round you both.

“Well, of course. I’m not one to abandon an experiment after a single trial.”

Resting your head back so it laid in the crook of his neck, you continue to let the his presence wrap around you and melt away the buildup of your stress. You press a kiss to his collarbone, and he responds with a peck on the top of your head.

“What about after two trials? Or three? Will you be tired of me then?”

“Honestly, my love, you ought to prepare yourself because the trials shall be endless. Or, let me be more blunt: I shall never tire of you. After all, you are mine. But more than that, I am yours.”

#dottore x reader #dottore genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore x you #dottore #genshin impact x you #skrunkly doctor man 🩵

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astrowaffle · 6 months

Text

Wow you guys really seemed to like the steampunk AU, that post got way more attention than I was expecting, so here's some more information and stuff:

-The world is still like a videogame that they got trapped in but now it’s a steampunk adventure-y type game with circus elements

-The adventures are probably a bit different

-They’re probably more like, fantasy adventure video game style things with like puzzles and fighting? Idk I'm not a big gamer I've never actually played any steampunk video games. What are those like?

-Instead of circus tent, there is a big wagon thingy that I'll draw eventually

-there's still not much of a story and I'm not sure If there'll ever be

-I'd also kinda want to make some mini comics for this au but I suck at coming up with ideas :/

Pomni:

-She likes to craft things

-friends with Gangle and Ragatha

-still very anxious but less anxious then normal Pomni?

-has a very logical mind and is good at puzzling things together but also doesn’t do well under pressure and typically panics in stressful moments where these skills might be useful

-She can play the flute because flutes are good, they are the best instrument. (I am totally not biased just because I play the flute in marching band)

-My headcanon for regular Pomni is that she’s less anxious than she initially is in the pilot after getting used to things, like, beyond the anxiety, her actual personality is very cheery and friendly, also very logical, because idk it just fits her somehow? So yea, that headcanon also applies to this au

-but of course she is still an absolute nervous wreck because yes

-How else is she supposed to react in this situation

-also look at those fingerless gloves I want those

-the gears in her eyes turn when she is thinking

Gangle:

-Also likes crafting things

-friends with Pomni, Zooble, and Kinger

-she often borrows sewing needles from Ragatha to sew her comedy mask back together when it’s torn, and also constantly tries to craft new ones

-She really likes her boots

-I don’t blame her those are some nice boots

-Ok wait a minute what if that little wing bow thingy on her head is actually a pen/quill that she can use to write stuff?

-ooooooh yes I like that

Caine:

-✨monocle✨

-He can control the time of day with the clock that’s on his hat

-It’s a lot harder for him to heal injuries in this world, he can’t just instantly fix anything anymore it requires a bit more effort

-I’m doing this because I like when injury and pain and suffering

Bubble: um- idk it’s just bubble but now they’re a robot I guess

Kinger:

-ok but what if he had a collection of mechanical insects? Omg designing mechanical insects would be so fun-

-The clock that he wears is broken but he doesn’t notice. And Time is irrelevant anyways

-damn those gloves are fancy

-they probably feel really silky

-and his robe is also very silky because mmm good texture

Zooble:

-They are a robot now

-also a mechanic/inventor because nobody else is and somebody had to learn how to make new robot parts

-their right arm can go s t r e t c h

-bonds with Gangle over their hatred of Jax

-they’re also kinda protective over her

-I lowkey ship them (this ship is so underrated)

-No but seriously why do see zero art of this ship

- Zoob’s in denial about their feelings and still pretends not to care because they’ve had such a “I don’t give a shit about anything” attitude that suddenly developing feelings for someone has caught them off guard cause they suddenly are giving a shit about something and they don’t know how to handle it, But if Jax does anything to Gangle they will rush in to protect her in a heartbeat and just try to play it off as it just being because they don’t like Jax BUT WE ALL KNOW THE TRUTH ZOOBLE JUST CONFESS ALREADY-

-ok that got way too rambly let's just move on now

Jax:

-MY FAVORITE

-he likes shiny things

-He will collect those shiny things

-He also very fast because look at those LANKY RABBIT LEGS

-I mean technically that’s already cannon, did you see how fast he ran away after seeing abstracted kaufmo? He just z o o m e d outta there

-those keys on the chain are only a small portion of his collection

-his room is definitely full of weird steampunk knick knacks because yes

-He uses them to prank people

-the centipedes he has to scare/annoy Ragatha are mechanical

-I’m so excited to design mechanical centipedes I love bugs so much guys you have no idea I finally have an excuse to draw insects and maybe people will actually care because it’s fandom related now

-He does not like getting wet. At all. (this is also just a general headcanon for him but especially in this au)

-floofy

Ragatha:

-the seams of her fabric are prone to tearing so she always carries a needle and thread to sew herself back together. she's good at sewing

-My main headcannon for normal Ragatha is that her button eye is a parallel to an eye injury she had in real life before joining the circus, but in this AU she probably acquired the injury in this universe.

-she’s good at using tools and weapons but not in like, a mechanic sorta way like Zooble but in a defense sorta way

-like, she’s very kind and caring but also sorta tough and even though her body is good at falling apart, she knows how to use strategy to fight and um wait what would they even be fighting-

-idk I haven’t thought about that yet

-Gloinks?????

-do those exist in this au???

-wait it’s my au why am I asking this

-overall she is very, “tries to help everyone else and seems very tough on the outside but is prone to falling apart both physically and mentally but just gets good at quickly patching it up and ignoring it until it become too much for her to bear”

-pls help her she needs therapy

-they all need therapy

-I’m pretty sure we’ve all established that at this point

-but I’m just making sure you know that it’s still a consistent factor in this au

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iamthecomet · 7 months

Note

mometttttt

can we get some fluffy phantom swiss??

feeling sad and wanting some comfort 🥺

maybe trans phantom dealing with painful cramps and swiss being there and being the amazing boyfriend he is and comforting phantom through the cramps?

Of course, Chase! I'm sorry that you're feeling sad. I hope this helps. Sending you lots of hugs too.

Just under 1k words of Trans!Aeon/Swiss. SFW. Just mentions of period cramps. ♥

Aeon wakes up in agony. Pain lancing through his belly, down his thighs, through his back. He curls in on himself. Knees drawing up tight to his chest. He wraps his arms around them, holds on tight as the wave of pain intensifies. Digs it’s claws in.

It’s so early. The sun is barely up. Streaking pink into the hotel room. Aeon had hoped for a day to sleep in. For the opportunity to luxuriate in bed next to Swiss on an off day. Peace. Comfort.

He should have known better than to hope for anything.

He breathes a little easier as the pain eases. He doesn’t loosen his grip on his legs though. He knows it’ll be back before long, it always is. He thinks about stumbling to the bathroom–at least to make sure he hasn’t made a mess of himself. But it feels impossible. More work than his aching limbs can handle.

He lays there for awhile, listening to Swiss’ soft snores. Feeling the warmth of him radiating from the other side of the bed. He opens his eyes and looks around the pre-dawn hotel room. Shadowy, still a mess from when they fell into bed last night. Half-eaten room service near the door. Their bags thrown on the other side of the room. Aeon thinks about the medicine stuffed in there. Some tea Mountain made for him that always seems to help.

He makes a plan. If he’s fast enough he can at least get to the bathroom and grab the tea before the next cramp hits. He can probably just rip the bag open with his teeth and eat the contents right? That will do the same thing? The idea of waiting for hot water from the weird coffee machine is impossible. Besides he barely knows how to work them on a good day.

Humans really do make everything needlessly complicated.

He could ask Swiss, but the multighoul is sleeping so soundly next to him, he doesn’t want to disturb him. They’ve been traveling so much, barely sleeping. Aeon doesn’t want to be the reason Swiss doesn’t get enough sleep.

He starts to push himself up, to uncurl. He gets as far as straightening his legs and pushing the blanket off before it hits him again. He swears he feels it in his bones. Dull insistent fire crawling through his body. He bites his lip until he tastes blood and even that isn’t enough to bury his whimper.

He bites down on his tail to try to muffle it, but Swiss wakes up anyway. Making a low groggy noise, confused as he rolls towards Aeon’s body. Curled up tight on the edge of the bed. Swiss’ hand is warm and broad on his back. A grounding weight. Swiss eases himself up, folds himself over Aeons’ body to look at him.

“Bug? You ok?”

Aeon looks up at him, Swiss’ eyes are sleep lined, barely open. But his dark brows are twisted in concern. The hand is on his hip now, heavy. Solid. Aeon swallows, he intends to nod, to tell Swiss to go back to sleep. But his body betrays him, he shakes his head.

“Cramps,” he mumbles in explanation. He doesn’t want Swiss to worry–there’s really nothing to worry about. He’s fine.

He crumples beneath another cramp. Tears pricking at his eyes. He turns enough that he can cling to Swiss. Now that he’s here and awake, Aeon can’t do anything else. He buries his face in Swiss’ chest and inhales the smell of him. Sweat and weed and sandlewood. He closes his eyes tight and tries not to cry as Swiss pulls him close, cradles Aeon’s little body against his.

Swiss kisses him between his horns, runs a comforting hand up and down his spine. Tangles the other in his hair, runs his fingers through it. He scratches at Aeon’s scalp until Aeon’s body goes lax as the cramp ebbs.

“What can I do?” Swiss asks, lips brushing over the curve of Aeon’s horn.

“The tea Mountain made me.”

“Where is it, baby?”

“Front pocket of my bag.”

Swiss untangles himself from Aeon. Aeon lays back on the bed, flat on his back. Tears burning against his cheeks. He hears Swiss rifling around in his bag. Hears the water run. Hears Swiss messing with that weird coffee maker.

“I hate this,” Aeon says softly.

“I know.”

“Just wanted to sleep in with you,” Aeon mumbles, voice cracking.

The coffee maker hisses, Aeon hears it spit water out into the styrofoam cup. Swiss is back right away. Helping Aeon sit up and pressing the overly hot cup into his hand. The smell of the tea alone makes something in Aeon’s back loosen.

He sips at it–it’s too hot but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t want to wait any longer.

“We can still sleep in,” Swiss promises. Leaning over to kiss Aeon’s temple. “Sleep all day if you want.”

Swiss curls one big arm around Aeon’s waist, pulls him close. The little ghoul leans against him. Eyes closing against another cramp. Swiss takes the cup from him so Aeon doesn’t spill. He presses his lips to the side of Aeon’s head, holds him close as the pain ravages him.

When it’s done, Swiss hands the cup back to him. “Drink up so we can go back to sleep.”

“I–” Aeon looks away, lilac blush coloring his cheeks. “I think I should take a shower first..”

Swiss shrugs, buries his nose in Aeon’s hair and inhales. “Fine. Shower first. Sleep after. All day. No excuses.”

Aeon turns his head to catch his lips on Swiss. It’s chaste, as easy as breathing. “Too good to me,” Aeon mumbles as he brings the cup back up to his mouth. Swiss grins down at him. “No such thing.”

#comet writes #chase #ficlet #aeon/swiss #trans!aeon #phantom ghoul #Aeon ghoul #trans!phantom #swiss army ghoul #sick fic #comfort fic #fluff #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fanfiction

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promptful · 2 years

Note

how about sick and care taker quotes/propmts?

Caretaker/Sick Prompts

Hi! Here you go.

WARNINGS: Vomit. Hospital. Disease.

DIALOGUE

CARETAKER

1) “You’re burning up.”

2) “Here’s some medicine.”

3) “You’re not ‘fine.’”

4) “Let me draw you a bath.”

5) “Try and get some food down. Anything.”

6) “How about some Ice chips?”

7) “I know it’s nasty, but I need you to take it anyway.”

8) “Can I get you water? Food? Medicine?”

9) “Are you dizzy?”

10) “If you even slightly lose consciousness, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

11) “I don’t care if I get sick. Move over.”

12) “What better way to spend a sick day than movie night and snacks?”

13) “Ohmygod, I just kissed you.”

14) “I got your hair, it’s okay.”

15) “Were you able to eat anything?”

16) “Ice pack?”

17) “I’m staying home today. I don’t want to leave knowing you’re feeling this bad.”

18) “Stop. I can handle everything else.”

19) “Stay in bed, for me?”

20) “I will pick you up, dammit. Lay down.”

21) “I even contacted my mom/dad for this soup. Eat.”

22) “No matter what you look like, or how you feel, I’ll always love you.”

23) “In sickness and in health, right?”

24) “If I get sick, you’ll take care of me, right?”

25) “You’re like a little furnace.”

26) “Sleep, I’ll be right here.”

27) “Let me call into work for you.”

28) “I—I’m not going to tell you what you can and cannot do. But please. Don’t go out like this.”

29) “Don’t feel bad if you vomit this up later.”

30) “I got you, I got you.”

31) “Hey! Are you still with me?”

32) “Fever dreams, huh?”

33) “I know you feel horrible, but just a few more days and you’ll be right as rain.”

34) “You won’t get me sick. Well. You might, but I don’t mind.”

35) “Can I hold you?”

36) “Even if you’re sick, you’re still the prettiest girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse in the world.”

37) “Let me take care of you.”

38) “If you even say ‘I’m sorry’ once, I’m going to be extra caring until you can’t stand me.”

39) “Tea?”

40) “Sick snuggles?”

SICK

41) “My throat feels like it’s on fire.”

42) “Why is everything so hot?”

43) “Why is everything so cold?”

44)“I… really don’t feel good.”

45)“You’re brave being in vomiting distance.”

46) “I’m fine. It’s fine. Stop—stop fussing over me.”

47) “It’s like there’s a weight on my chest.”

48) “Let me sleep. Please.”

49) “Sorry, I’m… I’m really dizzy.”

50) “That felt so real.”

51) “Stop, I don’t want to get you sick!”

52) “Hold me?”

53) “I feel like I’m half-way to Hell and Heaven all at the same time.”

54) “‘Think I got one foot in the grave.”

55) “Gonna vomit.”

56) “Don’t let me fall.”

57) “Is my skin on fire?”

58) “You’re so cold.”

59) “Don’t know if I wanna eat or cry.”

60) “Please, don’t get sick because of me.”

61) “Did you just kiss me?”

62) “Gotta—gotta go to work.”

63) “Bathroom. Now.”

64) “Thanks…”

65) “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

66) “Come on. There’s no need to overreact over this.” “You are literally passing out.”

67) “I feel terrible.”

68) “Did Hell warm over?”

69) “Love you.”

70) “Is this a good enough excuse for you to make me cake/cupcakes/chocolate?”

71) “No hospital.”

72) “Did I swallow sandpaper?”

73) “What about—what about work?”

74) “You’re too good to me.”

75) “It’s just a little cold.”

76) “I’m gonna… gonna sleep this off.”

77) “I’ll freeze to death if this doesn’t stop.”

78) “Why are you so warm?”

79) “I’m shivering…”

80) “Feel like shit.”

SCENARIOS

81) I’m holding your hair as you're vomiting into the toilet. You keep apologizing, but I seriously don’t mind.

82) I made you a bowl of soup? I hope you like it.

83) Without thinking about it, I press my lips to yours and… oh. This is going to bite me later, isn’t it.

84) You’re trying to leave for work, and I keep telling you please no. I can’t imagine what I’d do if someone called me saying that you passed out.

85) Laying on my lap, you’re watching television, and I’m running my fingers through your hair.

86) I made you a list to convince you why you’re still pretty/handsome despite being sick, no matter how hard you’re trying to convince me otherwise.

87) We were just conversing and suddenly your eyes fluttered shut. Ohmygod.

88) This… we’re really close, but you asked me to help you bathe and I can’t just say no.

89) We’ve been arguing about taking some disgusting cherry tasting medicine. Come on. Take the medicine, and then I promise you, I’ll get you some ice cream.

90) I offer some of my clothing after your own get soaked in sweat. I don’t think the red on your cheeks is related to how you’re feeling.

91) While this distance does leave me at risk for getting sick, you’re lying your head on my chest and all I can think about is your soft breathing and hair on my face.

92) After a fever dream wakes you up, I roll over and hold you close, your head underneath my chin.

93) Delirious, you just confessed your love, and I tell you it back immediately, even if you may not remember.

94) Even if my boss may not be happy with me, I called into work to take care of you regardless.

95) You’re underneath ten different quilts and there’s nothing I can do but try to feed the gremlin underneath there. Even if you’re slightly scary.

1K notes · View notes

luimagines · 1 year

Note

the boys hanging out in modern!readers room pwease?

🐰

Sure thing Bunny!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

When the boys were transported to this new world, they didn’t know what to think. It was loud, smelled weird and had way too many gadgets out and about.

Their friends ushered all of the through the streets as quickly and silently as the group would allow. They explained their home as they went, what each building was how to get there and more importantly, how close they were to their home.

It was than that it dawned on more than half of them how.. small their homes were. Not necessarily in the literal sense, (although there was plenty of that as well) more so in the space where all these people could live together where the term village certainly didn’t fit. It was hard to accept that this didn’t count as a city on it’s own.

They were assured, however, that the city was much larger and louder... and smellier. They didn’t want to imagine it.

Getting to their home was another issue entire. It appears that they didn’t have the key and no one else was home.

A small blessing, they guessed, if a bit inconvenient for the current purpose.

They climbed in through the window and opened the door from the inside before the alarms could go off. They were a bit late on the draw and the group could hear them from the outside, but they were silenced just as quickly. A security system, they said.

Cautiously, the group made their way inside.

“Make yourselves at home.” Their friend grinned and spun around, immediately taking off their shoes. Wind and Wild followed suit, copying their action of leaving them by the door. “My home is your home. I just hope... that my parents aren’t going to come home any time soon. I’m not exactly fond of the idea of that lecture and explanation that their due but! We’re here! And no one will bother us here. Anyone hungry?”

All hands went up.”

“Do you need help?” Wild offered.

“Sure! Just wash your hands first.” They grinned and opened the door to a large metal box they had in the middle of the room. “Feel free to look around! Just don’t break anything please.”

Hyrule took off down the stairs while Wind and Four went further into the house.

Time didn’t even want to think about the implications and sat down on the couch. It was softer than he thought it would be. Not wanting to ruin the clear craftsmanship of the furniture, he got to removing his armor. He wasn’t sure where he was going to put it but he didn’t want it to snag and tear anything.

Warrior was quick to the same and neatly began organizing a pile that wouldn’t be too disruptive to the rest of the houses layout. “You have... a lot of plants.”

“You can blame my mother.” They laughed. “She has the greenest thumb of the family. She can make anything grow, I swear. Oh- Wild bE CAREFUL!”

Twilight winces and sits next to Time. This isn’t his job right now. He doesn’t want to go look. It can’t be that bad. It’s not like he’s not near anything sharp or hot or-

He gets up two second later.

Wild was trying to do what he knew best but was close to touching the stove with his forearm. “...Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just be aware of it. You nearly burned your entire arm.”

“It wouldn’t change much.”

“Yes, but we don’t have the supplies to treat burn wounds.”

“How can you even tell it’s hot?”

“Ohh dear...” They sigh.

Twilight can feel the long suffering emotion behind it. “Is it the light?”

“It’s the light.” They sigh.

Wild blinks and looks at the stove. He’s not entirely sure how it works or how to read it. But still, he can see the little red light just around the nob they turned. “...Oh.”

“You know what?” They smiles patiently. “I’ll handle it. Thank you though.”

Twilight pats Wild’s shoulder and leads him away. Wild tries to not be too dejected.

Legend and Sky took to exploring not long after Hyrule did. Frankly it’s not much to see but it’s bigger than their houses for sure. With a lower floor and two rooms in the back, they’re surprised by how much space their friend has for the small family they claim to live with.

They find a room, unlocked, where there’s clothes on the floor and the bed is unmade. It smells....quite familiar actually. A lot like someone they travel with.

“They have their own room?” Legend looks around, amazed. There’s a bed in the corner, a dresser by the wall, multiple pictures and paintings cover the walls and a bookshelf with more books than Legend has rings rests on the other side of the room. Naturally he walks over to it.

Sky takes to looking at the pictures on the wall. Some have words, he can tell, but as he suspects, he can’t understand a word.

Legend fares a little better. With the amount of time he’s seen their friend write, he’s been able to piece together the vague and confusing alphabet into something he can understand.

Hyrule walks in a moment later and tilts his head. “What’s this room for?”

“I think it’s theirs.” Legend picks a book off the shelf.

Hyrule feels shame wash over him. “Should we be looking through their stuff then?”

“That didn’t cross your mind when you were at my place?” Legend quips back. “Besides, they said their home is our home. If there was something off limits they would have said something.”

Sky hums and looks away. “As long as we don’t break anything.”

Hyrule hums, no longer feeling good about it. It was one thing to see what the room of your family members were like, now that he has a little more context despite himself. But to look into your personal belongs, without your knowledge of consent, is a bit too intimate.

He heads back upstairs. Four and Wind meet up with him with satisfying and excited faces. “Traveler! We found some cool things!”

His smile is tight. “Yeah?”

Time hums. “Find anything of interest?”

Four opens his mouth but shrugged. “Not really. Just stuff.”

Time grins and nods along. “As expected. They’re not a fighter and neither is anyone in their family.”

He can hear something sizzling where Reader was off in the other compartment. Apparently, they deemed it safe to be left alone because they come back to where most of them are congregated.

“Here. I’ll put a movie on. Moving stories, yeah?” They grab a black rectangle and push on the colorful things that stick out of it. They turn on the larger black box on the small table and begins to move through the images on the screen.

The small action catches most, if not, everyone’s attention and soon everyone is sitting around the box as music begins to play. “This one was my favorite when I was little. I hope you enjoy it.”

The sunset in the back is beautiful and multiple animals that they can’t name start to blink their eyes as it rises over the land. It’s nothing they’re ever seen before.

They are enraptured.

Their friend sighs and smiles at the seen, trying their hardest to not sing along to the music. They don’t want to ruin the experience.

Besides, they’ll be in the kitchen cooking enough food to feed a small army.

They can sing all they want without them noticing. They are thoroughly distracted and they take it as a win.

It’s good to be home.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #not *exactly* what you asked for #I had an idea and then it never happened #whooops #hopefully this will suffice

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hells-greatest-performers · 14 days

Note

Lucifer? Couldn't you just declare Babies and children as unable to be binded by a contract? Like they can't make deals, can't 'inherent' them and can't make any that would start to be binding when they reach adulthood. That wouldn't free Husk, but it would free Freya and the unborn one. And countless children in hell, probably. Wouldn't be too different from the laws many places on earth have

Husk: *continues to struggle, his desperation turning into outright panic. Angel Dust tightens his grip, trying to calm him down, but Husk’s cries and thrashing only grow louder. The commotion draws the attention of Lucifer, who swiftly appears in the corridor, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene.*

Lucifer: *voice commanding* What is going on here?

Husk: *sobbing, still struggling against Angel* I can’t leave Freya alone! Alastor put a claim on her—he says he owns her soul! I’m scared he’ll take her away!

Lucifer: *expression shifts from confusion to a stern, protective anger as he processes Husk’s words. He steps forward, placing a reassuring hand on Husk's shoulder.*

Lucifer: *calm but firm* Husk, listen to me. No one, not even Alastor, can lay claim to a soul without my permission. I promise you, Freya is safe here.

Husk: *breathing heavily, looking up at Lucifer with wide, fearful eyes* But he said—

Lucifer: *interrupting* Whatever he said, he does not have the power to take her soul. I will personally ensure her safety and get to the bottom of this. But right now, you need to take care of yourself and your unborn child.

Angel Dust: *seeing Husk beginning to calm, loosens his grip slightly but keeps a supportive arm around him. Husk's resistance wanes, exhaustion and the emotional toll evident on his face.*

Angel Dust: *softly* See, Husk? Freya’s going to be okay. Lucifer will handle it. But you need to get back to the infirmary.

Husk: *finally relenting, tears still streaming down his face* Okay...okay. Just... please, don't let anything happen to her.

Lucifer: *nodding resolutely* You have my word. Now go, rest and recover. We need you strong for both your children.

*With Angel Dust gently guiding him, Husk finally allows himself to be led back to the infirmary, his worry for Freya slightly eased by Lucifer’s assurances*

Lucifer: *his demeanor imposing and unyielding, makes his way to Alastor's quarters. He finds Alastor lounging in his room, clearly annoyed at the disturbance.*

Alastor: *voice dripping with irritation* Lucifer, to what do I owe the displeasure of being awakened at this hour?

Lucifer: *eyes blazing with authority* We need to talk, Alastor. It's about Husk and his children.

Alastor: *raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence* Oh? And what about them?

Lucifer: *steps closer, towering over Alastor* Husk mentioned that you claimed ownership over his daughter, Freya, and the unborn baby. Explain yourself.

Alastor: *sighs theatrically* Decades ago, Husk made a deal with me. In exchange for saving his power, I claimed his soul. Through that claim, any offspring of his also fall under my ownership. It's all very straightforward, really.

Lucifer: *voice cold and commanding* You have no right to claim Freya or the unborn child. They are not yours, and they never will be.

Alastor: *smirks, leaning back* Oh, Lucifer, you of all people should understand how deals work. Husk’s soul belongs to me, and by extension, so do his children. It’s the fine print that matters.

Lucifer: *leaning in, his presence menacing* You seem to forget whose domain this is, Alastor. Deals or not, I am the ultimate authority here. Those children belong to their parents, and no one else. You will release any claim you believe you have on them immediately.

Alastor: *eyes narrowing, annoyance flickering* And if I refuse?

Lucifer: *voice dangerously low* Then you will face consequences far beyond your comprehension. I am the Morning Star, and my word is law in this realm. You will not harm or claim what is not rightfully yours.

*There’s a tense silence as the two powerful figures lock eyes, the air crackling with latent power. Finally, Alastor breaks the silence with a begrudging smile.*

Alastor: *with a mock bow* Very well, Lucifer. Consider your decree acknowledged. I will release my claim on Freya and the unborn child. But remember, Husk’s soul is still mine.

Lucifer: *straightens, his expression still hard* Husk's soul may be bound to you by a deal, but his children are off-limits. If you violate this agreement, you will answer to me.

Alastor: *waves a dismissive hand* Understood. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to my rest.

*Lucifer turns on his heel and leaves, his mind already turning to how he can further protect Husk and his family. He knows Alastor is not to be trusted, but for now, the immediate threat is dealt with.*

#long post #hells greatest performers au #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #ask lucifer #lucifer #alastor #ask alastor #angel dust #ask angel dust #husk #ask husk #husk’s contract #plot post

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wordynerdygurl · 2 years

Text

Yours

Author's Note: Hello lovelies! As promised, here's an Eddie Munson x Plus Size Female Reader for you to enjoy!

I was insanely inspired by @cicithefreakmunson and a tiktok they created, so do yourself a favor an check it out!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: Eddie needs to make sure that everyone knows who has your heart both in public and private.

Warnings: SMUT, a fat phobic comment, fighting, mention of blood, swearing, sexy times, spanking, oral sex (female receiving), and some rougher relations in a committed relationship. If I've missed anything, kindly let me know!

While Eddie was on stage, eyeing you from over the head of his guitar, the final notes of Corroded Coffin’s set swirling around the club, he had to watch some drunk choade stumble into your space, dick first. This guy’s hands pawing at your wide curves, spilling his drink on you intentionally to make your shirt see-through. Pulling you to him as you desperately tried to push him away had Eddie’s eyes clouding over at the audacity. Didn’t this asshole know better?

To his credit, he did take a second to hand his six stringed sweetheart to Gareth before jumping off the stage in a flurry of hair, stomping your way, anger evident in the set of his shoulders.

“Hey baby, miss me?” Eddie’s arms snaking around you, dragging you tight to his body to show everyone and most especially the sad sack trying to man-handle you, that you were already here with someone.

No, not someone. Him. It was him. By some lucky roll of the die you were his girl and Eddie’s blood was boiling at the thought that this lesser man had the gall to even look your way.

Rising up on your toes, you let Eddie claim you with a long and hard kiss before turning back towards the interloper, smiling widely, “You know I always miss you, Eddie.”

Protectively, Eddie looks you over, barely keeping the icy edge out of his tone, “This uh, gentleman, bothering you?”

Shaking your head, you have to bite back a girly giggle. He’s defending you and your honor against the groping goofus. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t affect you; his brooding stare, the twitchy energy in his shoulders, all of his base masculinity on display. If you weren’t in the middle of The Hideout, surrounded by metalheads and townies, you would have thrown yourself right at Edward Munson, reputation be damned.

But you know better than to push your beautiful boy, especially when he’s snapping with unspent adrenaline, plus, this little scene is already drawing a crowd. Doing your best to diffuse the tension, your gaze never leaving Eddie’s face, you tisked, “Naw baby, he was just leaving.”

Circling behind you now, laying his chin on your shoulder while his arms circle your middle, Eddie was staring daggers at the intruder, “Then he should go then, right honey?”

Tired of you both talking at him, unsteady on his feet, the drunk practically shouts his confused frustration, “What the hell is your problem man?”

Eddie moves you behind him, shielding you from whatever comes next, angrily barking into the stranger’s face, “You can’t go grabbing chicks, dude. Especially not my chick.”

Using his bottled beer, the man pointed at you, “That’s your girl? That fat bi-” That’s all the goon manages to get out before Eddie punches the handsy stranger hard and fast, his nose erupting in a spray of blood.

From that night on, the outward signs of your devotion to each other become more important than ever. You were Eddie’s girl and he was your guy. Everyone else had to get their own or get fucked, a beating he personally loved delivering, if it meant keeping you safe and by his side.

The next time he plays you’re draped in his denim cut, the one that every single soul inside the club knows belongs to him. After that, you show up in a Corroded Coffin t-shirt, the words “I’m With the Band” stenciled on the back, just in case anyone forgets what brings you back to The Hideout week after week. But it’s not enough, not for Eddie.

Each day you wore bracelets. Black and neon green rubber circles that fill the gap between your elbow and your wrist, hot pink and orange, just for fun, and when he feels the need to remind the world who holds onto your heart, Eddie’s silver handcuffs. Both locked on your right side so you could move around freely and shake hands with whoever, but jingling all night long was the narrow chain between the pair, reinforcing the idea that you were his and his alone, while also making you look hard as fuck.

Heads turn your way, inevitably, at the sight of you together. Him, tall and lean, you short with sweeping curves. The adoration on your face matched by the desire in Eddie’s. And even though you were rounder in figure and fuller in the hips than most of the girls who flocked to The Hideout, working hard in their shiny spandex and over teased bangs, Eddie only had eyes for you.

Now, it was no longer possible to feel his nimble fingers with their calloused pads brushing over your exposed shoulder and not get goosebumps, no matter how crowded the bar was that night. You couldn’t imagine walking into a room without his hand in your back pocket, pressing against your ample bottom with every swinging step. How would you ever enjoy a concert or a conversation when his long arm wasn’t draped along your shoulder, or, even better, wrapped around you so his leather jacket creaked against your cheek, the heat of his hand resting possessively on the skin above your full breasts?

You can’t. It’s not even a remote possibility, not anymore. Eddie “The Freak” Munson had made you one too and there was no going back.

When he somehow manages to keep you out of his grasp, a truly difficult task for the boy, you still feel the presence of phantom threads connecting you every time you even glance at a mirror. Your graceful neck could be loaded with necklaces, velvet chokers and chains but no one noticed your jewelry. All they could see were the lavender splotches where Eddie had sucked and nipped and licked your tender flesh into bruises old and new. Every one a badge of honor you happily displayed because removable tokens of Eddie’s devotion were no longer enough for either one of you.

You, in your trashy fishnet tights, a cut off pair of denim shorts barely covering the crease where your ass became the back of your thighs. You, in an ancient Led Zeppelin t-shirt that was so holey you had to wear a tank top underneath it or risk being charged with indecent exposure. You, with the chopped hair and black eye-liner, a busted out pair of boots and your pleased, crimson smile just for him.

He was so fucking yours.

Much later, in the divine dark of early morning, his trailer filled with smoke and shadow, Eddie’s lighter flicks to life. The golden rays highlight his long lashed eyes, solely focused on setting the twisted tip of his joint alight, ready to inhale the fragrant fog. Drawing deeply, puffing his chest, you watch Eddie lean towards you, his lips puckered and ready.

Fisting your hand into his beloved Hellfire Club shirt, you pull him near enough to kiss, but that wasn’t on the agenda. Your lips part sweetly, eyes fluttering closed as Eddie exhales the scented smoke from his lungs into your own. Billowing gently through his lips, the vapor curls around you both in milky white swirls as you gratefully inhale his breathy discharge.

It wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, but it tastes different when it comes from him; sweeter somehow and you flatten your palms along the plains of his chest, overeager for his kiss. He knows it too. Recognizing the wanting in your face, moving close enough that your noses bump together, Eddie turns his head at the last moment which makes you huffy. Inhaling another drag, causing the joint’s cherry to flame brighter, his free hand tangles in the tendrils at your neck, holding you steady as he blows another shotgun directly between your open lips.

Needy now, you drift closer, ready to bridge the millimeters of distance between your mouth and Eddie’s only to be thwarted by his holding grip, “So pretty, baby. One more, alright?”

And he’s asking you, but there’s no need for that because Eddie knows that you’re going to let him do whatever he wants. Licking over your bottom lip you stare hungrily at the burning paper, jealous that it gets to touch his full mouth when you haven’t yet. You try to be patient but Eddie’s just taking so long on the drag. Frenzied, you can’t help but whine, “Honey! Please!”

He doesn’t answer in words. Heavily ringed fingers grab at your chin, the cool metal digging into your overheated skin as he forces your lips into a pretty pout. Eddie pauses, drawing out the long seconds while the smoke expands inside his chest, pinning you under his steely gaze. When he’s satisfied that you’re gonna be good, be patient, and his body is almost screaming for fresh air, only then does he release another lungful of sacred smoke into your waiting mouth.

Before you can enjoy what he gives you, Eddie’s licking into you with his tongue. His hands move to cradle your face, a palm pressing to each cheek, as your desperate lips reach out for him. Then he’s deepening the kiss you’re sharing in the streaking silver smog, melding you together. His tongue, your tongue, tangling together. The push and pull of your shared passion flavored with sugary sighs and the musky scent of sativa, it’s wrecking you.

When you feel Eddie shifting beside you, kneeling up to shuck his jacket before tossing it somewhere, you pivot on the couch. No longer sitting side by side, now your legs stretch out in front of you, wedged between Eddie’s black denim covered thighs. There’s a lean, wolfish look on his face that makes you flush because you understand instinctively that he’s the predator.

That makes you prey.

Dancing, his fingers draw over your legs, glazing across the criss-crossed knots of your tights, the sensation tickling and tantalizing. It’s enough to make you huff out a sound that’s half laugh, half moan and he’s enchanted. You buck beneath Eddie, earning a cracked groan as he falls forward to caging you beneath him, his hair a curtain of dark curls. As he nuzzles into your neck, sucking a fresh mark onto your sensitive skin, he can’t help but say, “You make such pretty noises, baby.”

Rubbing your feet together, Eddie’s attention turning you on, you purr pleasantly, “It tickled!”

“This?” And he smooths an experimental hand over your plush thighs, pressing the black strings of your fishnets into your flesh, watching your reaction with his dilated eyes locked onto your own. He’s toying with your cutoff’s fringe, widening his palms under the hem of your short shorts but over the stretched diamond pattern of your tights. With each pass his hands reach lower; the little touched spaces behind your knees, the inner curve of your calves, the shape of your ankles. And every time he returns to the swell of your hips, his thumbs circling closer and closer to your still covered cleft but stopping short of the connection you want most.

It’s torture. Delicious, exquisite torture which has you biting your bottom lip as you roll against the weight of him. Gasping sharply, your head tips over the couch’s arm as you nod mindlessly, “Uh huh…”

He meets your body halfway, grinding into you aggressively, shamelessly. It’s unbelievable, really. The way your thick, soft body welcomes his touch. How you bend your knees reflexively, letting Eddie rock into the warm wet at the center of your legs, his grip squeezing the tender flesh of your ass. Your panting, desperate sounds, so low and throaty, egging him on.

“Gotta get rid of these, well, you called ‘em shorts, baby, but-” popping the brass button open, Eddie’s hands flare open over your waist, “-damn... They don’t cover much.”

You find his forearms, pretty painted nails digging in deep as your fingers flex, “Wanted to show off for you, babe. Wanted you to be- Oh, ah!” Gasping, you're interrupted by the rough yanking Eddie’s employing to get you out of your cut-offs as quickly as possible.

Lifting his head with a triumphant smirk, Eddie licks over his bottom lip while he fiddles with the belt loops of your bottoms, lust darkening his eyes, “Wanted me to be what, sweetheart?”

Shifting your shoulders, you risk a wide-eyed stare his way before declaring clearly, “Wanted you to be proud to show me off.”

“Sugar-” his voice dropped an octave, gravely and rumbling, “-you’re the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I’m more than proud, baby. I’m fucking honored to be your man. I mean, damn, just look at you, huh?”

If only you could see what Eddie did; heat on your cheeks in uneven patches glowing in the dusky dim, legs spread so wide now that one of your feet was on the floor, the other caught under the couch’s back cushion. Weed soaked, your eyes softly shut, ready to fly open at the faintest touch from his working class hands. Your perfect, plump mouth parted to sigh, to sing, to bite into your bottom lip when you worried about being too loud.

Shit, even that ratty old t-shirt was sexy as fuck, riding high enough that he could see how hard your nipples had become, showing off the impressions where his fingertips sunk into the velvet skin of your sensitive breasts. Eddie loved every inch of it. Every inch of you.

Suddenly shy, you move, trying to tug down the hem of your shirt but Eddie bats your hands away, “Uh uh. Need to see you, beautiful. Want to see more, in fact.”

Before you can stop him, Eddie’s wicked hands course over your thighs again, ready to resume undressing you. Lifting your hips high, high, higher, you hear the wind leave his lungs. Pinching into your quads, his rings gouge at you, causing a squeak, “Eddie? Baby? What’s… is something wrong?”

“You’re not wearing anything under here. No, uh, panties?”

His voice is low, flat. No flourishes, no teasing and it’s so unlike him that you reach out for reassurance, “Oh! That-” your hands trace over his braced arms, giggling a little in relief, “-they felt weird so, I just didn’t-”

“Didn’t wear any fucking panties.” Now his voice is rasping and raw because Eddie is spiraling at the vision he sees. The thick, black seam of your tights cuts right over the centerline of your slit, daring him to trace its path. Your pussy calls out to him from the woven prison you’ve been wearing all night, the strings closest to you are a damp barrier to the very place Eddie wants to devour.

For a long second you think you’ve fucked up. Eddie’s frozen in place, unmoving until you nudge him with a knee, “Babe? You ok?”

“Can’t believe you, honey. Leaving my pretty kitty uncovered so anyone could see her… touch her?”

There’s a jealous tint to his tone making you clench with want even though you feel like you need to defend yourself, “Don’t want anyone else to- to touch me. Just you, baby. Only you.”

Those are the right words because Eddie recommits himself to getting you off. Without answering, he drops his head to your tummy, kissing a hard line from your belly button downward. The softness of his hair brushing over the recently abused skin makes you shiver as your hands tangle in his hair and Eddie groans at the contact.

You? You’re lost in the sensation of his lips. Every scorching, open mouth smooch can be felt through the diamond windows of your fishnet tights, intensifying the high, as Eddie’s tongue presses against your clit, the conflicting textures creating heavenly friction.

Hissing, you yank hard on his curly mop, desperation making your legs shake. Eddie growls into your lower lips, anxious to suck on your straining pearl properly, racy hosiery be damned! You register his frustration. It makes him fierce, feral, as he tries again to lap at you through the restrictive garment. Like putty in his hands, your thighs rudely part at his coaxing, stretching the black elastic near to breaking, but still denying Eddie what he wants most: you.

“Oh, fuck this!” With that declaration, right over your weeping hole, Eddie presses two fingers into you taking your filmy tights with him. He feels a thread let go, then another, and soon a sizable hole is spreading with every forward motion of his twisting, teasing fingers. Tearing easily, the rip widens, unable to sustain the repeated invasion.

Before you can acclimate to the intrusion, he withdraws, eyes wild and wide. His strong fingers jerk hard, the seam of your tights giving way with a satisfying snap. Eddie’s mouth, complete with a satisfied smirk, lowers to your core where he sweeps his tongue in a flat line between your folds, finally able to access your sweetcandy center.

Shaking your hips, you move in time with his licks, the animal in you rising to the surface, “Fuck, Eddie! Yes! Shit!”

Those fingers, so used to sliding down frets, slip into you unhindered. Using the thumb of the same hand to rub your overstimulated clit, Eddie’s free palm coasts over your hip and the wide waistband of your destroyed tights, snapping the stretchy fabric harshly. Arching into the surprising pop of pain, he catches the back of your head in his hand, kissing you hard with clicking teeth and clashing tongues.

Frantic, you tug at his shirttail, the need to feel his bones on your bones overwhelming. “Need to feel you baby!”

But Eddie shakes his head, he’s not ready to let you go, not yet. “Cum on my fingers first,” Curving his digits deliberately, your walls constrict when he tickles against that soft, spongy place only he can seem to reach. Then he does it again, seeing your whole body stutter as the contact short circuits your nervous system.

Still on his knees between your own, Eddie’s holding you close enough to rest his forehead to yours, a sweet, sweaty smile on his face, “Please baby. I wanna see you come apart for me. Just for me, yea?”

It’s the encouragement you need, his words flipping a switch inside you. Everything in your body contracts: your abdominals, the muscles in your legs, the bones in your toes, the tendons in your neck. Eddie can feel it happening from within you and continues to press his advantage, no longer retreating his hard working hand. Instead he plunders your depths, further and faster than he’s ever done before.

“Need, uh-” licking over your lips, the begging starts in small syllables, “-you. Need you, Eddie.”

He doesn’t have a chance to respond before you’re pulling him to you in another constrained kiss, tight, and tense, because that’s precisely what you’re experiencing at his hand. Sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, you bite into the pillowy softness as Eddie firmly grinds his thumb against your clit, his nails scratching along your carnal tunnel. Shattering, the world around you unravels in cosmic waves as your ecstasy expands beyond the narrow barriers of your body.

Eddie takes control of the lip lock, licking into the cavern of your mouth, the metallic taste of his blood mixing the smokey flavor that is your man. He keeps his hand on the job until your vibrations slow, then, just as quickly as he started, Eddie smoothly extracts his pleasure giving fingers. Through sleep heavy eyes you watch as he laps your juices from those same fingers, taking the extra time to suck his thumb clean before looking down at you with a proudly devilish grin.

You can’t help but stare because now Eddie reaches behind his head, removing his shirt in one motion, the tattoos that trail over his torso like a map to pleasure. Raven wing hairs travel in a line down to the cut of his waist where his belt is undone, the rivet of his jeans open enough for you to see the checkerboard pattern of his boxers. And a fresh desire for the man who loves you rolls over you.

Itchy now, your needy palms fan over his chest, wrapping under his arms until you’re cradling against him, your head tucked into his chest. You can hear his heartbeat best like this and in your post-orgasmic state there’s something grounding in the steady rhythm of Eddie’s pulse that brings you back to the here and now. He talks but you’re so close you only hear muffled mumbles so you tip your head up, “Hmm?”

“I said, I’m not done with you yet.”

Blinking, your drug fogged brain catching on, “Oh, you’re not?”

Shaking his head no, Eddie forces your head back far enough to expose your neck, tongue tracing along the tendon there before nipping at your earlobe, “Not even close, princess. Get on your knees, baby. Let me see that beautiful ass of yours.”

Goosebumps spread over you at the sweetly whispered command he issues. Agreeing with a compliant nod, you go to stand up but Eddie pushes you toward the deep pile carpet on the floor, and you slip off the couch, boneless and floppy. “Here-” tossing one of the loose cushions to you, Eddie watches you fold your hands under your cheek as if you were going to take a nap, all innocent and peaceful- but you’re far from innocent, aren’t you?

God, he fucking loves you. He love fucking you, too.

Quickly shedding the rest of his clothes, his dick unbelievably hard because he is, without a doubt, the luckiest sonofabitch in Hawkins for sure, maybe Indiana, possibly the world. And it’s because of you.

Already spaced out from the weed and first round of pleasure, your ass is framed perfectly by the haphazard tear in your tights, the thin netting still covering everywhere but the places only Eddie gets to touch you. Lifted up like this, on your knees, he can see your puffy pussy lips, still glistening from your release but furiously flexing from a want to be filled.

He could hardly believe that you were his. “Fuck, honey. I wanna be gentle, I really do-” positioning himself behind you, the warmth of Eddie’s body wraps around you as one of his hands glides over your haunches, “-but you look so fucking good right now.”

Over your shoulder you catch his eye, a sly smile on your face, “Hammer me, Eddie. Make me feel it. I… I want you to. I need you to.”

Your words fly straight to Eddie’s cock. Already swollen and stiff, it hardens further in his hand, the rouge tinted head droolling pre-cum. Urgency floods through him the moment you quietly beg him to ravage you, sexily swaying your hips in a silent call to action. It’s too much to process, stalling Eddie’s brainwaves, causing him to choke out, “Wha? What did you say?”

Widening your legs, your fingers finding the uneven edge of your ruined tights, rubbing over your still wet lips, “You heard me, Munson. Don’t make me ask you again.”

Lewd. Filthy. Hot as fuck, you had Eddie swallowing hard, his throbbing rod pulsing in his fist. Wanting to thrust into with everything he had, Eddie forces himself to breath, one hand finding its way to the round fullness of your bottom, the other gripping his steely length tight. “Get yourself ready for me, baby. Use your fingers, yea, just like that. Fuck. You’re a goddamned porn star, aren’t ya?”

Wordlessly you begin stroking between your legs, knowing that Eddie was watching made you more excited, the debauchery of it making it better. There was a swish of cool air and then a sharp crack as Eddie brought his open palm down on your upturned ass cheek, the sting making you reel, surprise causing you to call out, “Shit, Eddie!”

His hand on the flat of your back held you still, soothing you now, “Shh, shh… you’re doing so good, so good for me, darlin’. Keep going, ya?”

Settling again, continuing to pleasure yourself as he asked, the fingers of your free hand scrunch into the pillow under you, holding on for dear life. Another smack, more heat than hurt, breaks over you, increasing the pleasurable pressure building in your belly. Circling your clit, wishing it was Eddie’s finger or tongue, you throw your head back, pushing your hips into Eddie, pleading now, “Please, babe, please?”

Grinding out through gritted teeth, Eddie slaps your ass once more, “Already begging me, huh? Don’t you dare finish. I wanna feel you, pretty girl. You hear me?” Nodding in a pre-orgasmic haze, squeaking out the word yes over and over, it was enough for Eddie who was winding up tight enough to snap. Shuddering, you feel the swollen tip of his cock slide between your slippery lips and flex your back, eager for more friction, only to be denied.

Eddie, swatting your hands away from your core, rests his tip at your entrance, taking a minute to enjoy the scenery. Notching into you so achingly slow, the stretch always taking you by surprise, you fisted the cushion beneath you as Eddie withdrew with a sultry snicker, “Jesus, you’re soaking, baby. Feel so good.”

“No, you- you feel good, Eddie. So big. Too big.”

His pulling back makes you whine, but before you can say anything, he knocks the wind out of you by surging forward, burying himself balls deep in your velvet vice. Shouting out his name, your chest flattens into the carpet as you buck your hips higher, meeting Eddie’s rapid thrusts.

For the first time all night, he goes quiet, concentrating on the loving way you grind your cushioned bottom into his pelvis, skin slapping deadened by the presence of your wrecked lingerie. Eddie watches as your pink petals swallow him everytime he humps into you, the image etching itself in his mind. He picks up speed, using your waistband to wrench you back onto his impaling member, over and over and over again.

It’s rough, rougher than ever before, but that’s why you like it so much. Already your clingy cunt is clenching, trying and failing to keep Eddie locked inside of your wet heat, your bodies fusing together. You told Eddie to use you; hammer into you in search of his own pleasure, and he does not disappoint.

He barely gives you a chance to bounce along his length before he fortifies his hold on you, his ringed hand on the ample flesh of your waist, the other knotting into your hair. Rutting into you like a beast, the arch of your spine allows Eddie to access your deepest recesses as you chew on your bottom lip to keep from screaming his name into the night. Your skin is on fire as the rug burns scars into your knees with every forward drive from the menace you’ve given yourself over to.

The rhythm spikes again. Faster now, the repetitive smack, smack, smack of your soaked skin accepting his brutal use makes your body bloom. Sinking into your hips, the muscles of your legs soften, changing the angle for Eddie and you hear an appreciative grunt as he claims another inch of you for himself.

A bubble of laughter rises through you and Eddie hears it, mocking, “Something funny, sweetheart?”

“No! No! Just-” he yanks back on your hair and your pussy pulses around him reflexively, “-you’re doing it, Eddie.”

“Giving this pretty pussy what it needs? Fuck yea, I am. Gonna be sore tomorrow, doll. Can’t help it.”

Grinding back against him, your voice rises in pitch, the need to cum consuming you, “Good! Fuck, Eddie! Wanna feel it! Don’t stop! Don’t stop-'' But you don’t get to finish your sentence because the dam within you cracks open, the watery release too much, and it floods over Eddie as your world fuzzes over in blinding white lightning and static sound.

Your messy ending finishes Eddie, who buries himself to the hilt, holding you near enough to bruise as his release roars out of him, a satisfying sigh of your name on his tongue. His fingers flex, their grip on you going slack, as Eddie curls over you protectively. Turning your face to his, a kiss, sweet and soulful passes between you even though the angle is awkward and you are both fucked out entirely.

When he separates himself from you, it borders on painful. You just fit around him so right, so well, it’s as if your body doesn’t want to let Eddie go. Pressing his lips to your shoulder, Eddie hums in your ear, “Stay here, beautiful. I’ll be right back.”

Hazy headed, you agree with sigh, closing your eyes in euphoric exhaustion. Eddie, always so thoughtful and careful with you, swipes at your exposed skin with a warm washcloth, cleaning you up gently. When he returns from the bathroom, loose boxers covering his butt, and sees that you haven’t shifted an inch, Eddie drops to his knees, brushing the hair from your face, “You alright baby?”

A satisfied smile fills your face, “Fuck yea, I just uh, my legs are jelly.”

Sitting now, Eddie pulls your head into his lap, combing through your locks, “Sorry about that, sweet girl.”

Searching his face, you titter, “I’m not. You were incredible.”

You watch the pride blossom in him at your compliment, and stretch your aching arms before sitting up beside him. Tracing a thumb over his bottom lip, you frown, “Sorry I bit you.”

Hooking his hands around your neck, nose to nose now, Eddie pokes at the broken skin with this tongue, “I’m not. Now everyone will know I belong to you.”

Resting your head on Eddie’s chest, his arms holding you from behind, you sit in indigo shadows, the harsh street lamps casting moth filled shapes around the trailer. His hands reach for your ruined tights, ripped and torn and stained, “I can replace these. You’ll let me buy you new ones, right?”

Your hand cups his stubbly cheek, eyes serious, tone light, “Only if you promise to tear them off me.”

Snorting, Eddie strokes your side under the shirt that you never took off, “Only if you promise that I’m the only guy who gets to tear them off of you.”

And there’s a buried intention in his question, real worry, so you pull back, concern in your expression, “Eddie, honey, I’m yours. If tonight didn’t prove that, then I don’t know what will-”

He looks away from you, focusing on the lightening sky outside his window, “There are guys who, ya know, they want you. I see them. See how they look at you when you aren’t paying attention and I guess-” swallowing thickly, Eddie catches your gaze, “-Shit… I guess I'm worried that you’ll figure it out.”

Panicking, you kneel up next to him, a comforting hand resting against his cheek, “Figure what out, baby?”

Releasing the breath he had been holding on to, Eddie’s brown eyes scan your own, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, “That uh… that you’re too, ya know, good for me.”

Still sore and stinging, you manage to straddle Eddie’s lap, the cotton of his boxers a welcome comfort against your overworked sex. Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging at the nape of his neck, you force him to look you dead in the eye. Speaking firmly but calmly, you were ready to make him hear you, “Edward Munson, that is enough of that kinda talk. I wanna be your girl, and only your girl.

“Who else would punch a dude for me? Or show me everyday that he loves me?” Your voice wobbles, breaking at the declaration you’re making, “I don’t want anyone else. Only you, babe. Always.”

Cutting you off, Eddie’s mouth crashes into yours, stealing your breath. A broad palm on your tush and one against your spine ensure that you can’t pull away from the love that he’s trying to share. And you don’t fight it. Why would you? All you wanted was Eddie Munson and all he wanted was you.

Resting his chin on the crown of your head, dawn’s golden glow strengthening beyond the walls of his trailer, he whispers, “I am so fucking yours, ya know that?”

Curling into his warmth, nuzzling further into his lap, you sigh, filled with contentment, “Yea, I know, Eddie. And you’re stuck with me.”

Grinning as you toy with the guitar pick around his neck, Eddie gives you a tiny peck at the very center of your forehead, “I am totally ok with that, sweetheart. You’ll be mine and I’ll be yours.”

“Hell yea, baby. All yours.”

---- Fin ----

Taglist:

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sighonaraa · 3 days

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Hit me with more about the sun is only a God if you learn to starve!

for the wip fic ask game!

ABSOLUTELY MY LOVE!!! this is also colloquially known as the Jamie Gets Hugged Six Ways To Sunday fic, and i adore it so deeply. i'm currently working on chapter 2 so! i hope! it'll be out! soon!!!

here's a little jamie and isaac from much further down the road, because i love them so dearly and they make me insane and i need isaac to also Give and Get hugs because he deserves them and SO DOES JAMIE!!! i put some of it below the cut simply bc it got a bit long jsldfjaklj

“Oi,” Isaac ventures, scooting down the bench a bit until he’s close enough that he can speak softly, afraid of spooking the lad. His fingers curl around the metal, the cold shock of it enough to ground him. “Oi, Jamie. What’s going on?” Jamie shakes his head mutely. He’s rocking back and forth slowly, in small, minute movements. His knuckles are white to the bone. He’d been vibrant out on the pitch earlier, almost dizzying with it, his legs a blur and his face alight with a ferocious determination, but now he’s turned in on himself so that Isaac can glimpse only the tender, soft belly. He’d vanished during cool-down, and Isaac had wandered through the facility on purpose after everybody else had gone home, hoping that Jamie’d stuck around only to find him collapsed here on the floor, shaking like he was about to break apart. The shaking hasn’t gotten any better; it rattles the bones of him, the very skeleton. Isaac aches to watch. “M’fine,” Jamie finally mumbles, into the peaks of his knees. “Y’can go home.” Isaac rolls out his neck. “Nah. I’m good, bruv.” Jamie sniffles, fingers grappling more fiercely at his shirt sleeves. He hasn’t changed out of his kit or boots yet and his legs are grass-stained, and, horribly, Isaac is thinking of a different locker room in a different city but the wallowing emptiness of his chest is still the same. Nothing ever changes, does it. Nothing ever fucking changes. “S’stupid anyways,” says Jamie. His voice is dull, flat, so completely unlike Jamie that Isaac nearly can’t recognize him. “Just being stupid.”

There are many responses Isaac could give to that, but he pauses before he says any of them. They’ve talked and talked and talked it into circles, the lot of them, huddling in Dani’s living room trying to figure out how best to coax Jamie out of his ghost, back to the living world. Isaac, offer him your dino. Colin, take him out to dinner. Sam and Dani… keep it up, lads. None of it has worked. None of it has done anything, because Jamie hasn’t been there. But Jamie’s here now. He’s here, and so is Isaac. It’s easy, almost, to slip from the bench and onto the floor at Jamie’s side. A little harder, to wrap a careful arm around Jamie’s shoulders and draw him close. Isaac can feel the tense of Jamie’s muscles, the coiling of them, and he’s about to let go when Jamie relaxes into the embrace. This is all the encouragement that Isaac needs to pull him ever closer, tucking the lad into the curve of his side and allowing Jamie to decide where he wants his head to go. On Isaac’s chest, is the answer, and neither of them are small people but sitting here like this, Jamie is something delicate, something fragile, something that Isaac must handle with care because he doesn’t think Jamie’s ever been handled with care before in his whole life. Still, there’s a ferocity to the wrap of his arm around Jamie. A promise that this time things will be different. A sob rends its way from Jamie’s chest, a torn-wide wound, and he buries his face deeper into Isaac’s chest even as he simultaneously tries to pull away. “M’sorry,” he says, like he’s fighting with himself to accept what he’s being given. “M’sorry, I—” “You’re all right,” says Isaac. Instinctively, the fingers of his free hand card through Jamie’s hair in a gentle ruffle. It’s a light pressure, and yet there’s a warmth that blooms in it that spills over the boundaries of their bodies. Jamie freezes against it, but not as though he’s afraid of it; as though he’s afraid of it being taken away. Isaac keeps doing it, to prove that it’s not going anywhere, and says again, for good measure, “You’re all right, lad. You’re all right.”

#ask #jamietarttsnorthernattitude #sid speaks #fic: the sun is only a god if you learn to starve

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fangirlies · 1 year

Text

Stargazing- (x.t)

Pairing: Xavier thorpe x gn!reader I dont think I used any pronouns in this one.. I can’t remember

Request: Xavier Thorpe x fem reader stargazing together plsss

Warnings: literally just too much fluff to handle. soft reader. (Please let me know if I should be aware of anything else)

A.N: fangirlies 🧚🏼‍♀️ I’m sorry. this is so cheesy but that’s right up my alley. i wrote thorpe boy as a best friend but I’m sure you could just read it as boy friend.

“every now and then, the stars align. boy and girl meet by the great design . could it be that you and me are the lucky ones? everybody told me love was blind. then I saw your face and you blew my mind. finally, you and me are the lucky ones this time” these lyrics from Lana’s ‘lucky ones’ felt fitting. here I go including lana del rey in yet another writing.

You sighed as you slammed the cover of your botanical sciences textbook shut and tossed it aside. You'd been studying for an upcoming test for so long that you could feel your brain rotting.

“Hey xav?” Trying to capture the attention of your best friend. He hasn't taken his gaze away from his sketch book since he started drawing and you began studying.

You had fun hanging out in his art shed. Being surrounded by trees and hearing the wind roar while working on school assignments has a strangely soothing affect on you. Or perhaps it was the fact that you felt so safe in the presence of your best friend. He loved having you in here, and you knew it. On some days, when he's in one of his moods and struggles to express his feelings, you end up being his muse. It wasn't one of those days today. He was so absorbed in his work that he probably didn't even remember you were there.

You called his name again, but he didn't respond, so you walked over to him and gently tapped his shoulders making an effort not to startle him. He still didn’t turn to face you. Instead, as he proceeded to run his pencil across the paper, a barely audible "hmph?" came from him.

“Do you have any extra blankets?” Although you felt awful for annoying him so much, you would soon be out of his hair. Your head hurt from the overwhelming amount of information you read about plant cells, and all you wanted to do was be outside admiring the stars. No plant cells, no thoughts, just you under the million stars. When you were feeling overwhelmed, you found yourself doing this. It always made you feel that the vastness of the world was so big that you and your troubles were so insignificant.

He quickly uttered, trying not to lose the inspiration he was currently experiencing, "bottom shelf in the cabinet."

You proceeded to the place you were instructed to look, and you took one of his blankets and a throw pillow from his couch. He truly turned this old shack into his safe haven. Decorating it to his liking and even gave you a small corner for you to decorate. You contributed with the snacks seeing as you were in here just as much as he was.

You found your usual spot outside his shed where it gave you a clear view of the sky, free of any trees obstructing your view. The absence of nearby light left the sky covered in bright, beautiful stars. The sky tonight was stunning causing a slight smile to spread across your face. You spread the blanket out and positioned the cushion beneath your head as you allowed your mind to wander. Trying to trace a straight line with the patterns of the stars.

Your train of thought was cut off, and you cocked your head to the side. On the blanket next to you, Xavier was now sitting.

“Hey, did I distract you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to” you apologized to your best friend, eyes full of worry.

He shook his head and said, "No no, I just felt lonely when I didn’t feel your presence. Besides, I think I needed to clear my mind too. Didn't realize how badly my fingers ached" Xavier twisted his fingers trying to get them to crack and suddenly found himself lying down next to you with his hands clasped together and on top of his tummy. You smiled gently at him.

“Are you going to share the pillow with me or will you leave me with a stiff neck too?” As you giggled, he gently pulled the pillow out from under your head. Causing you to slightly lift your head.

The two of you gazed silently at the twinkling of each star for a while. When it came to Xavier, you enjoyed that you didn't feel the need to keep the conversation going at all times. The mere thought of having each other by your side was enough.

“Isn’t it crazy how we both managed exist at the same time, same place?” You broke the silence.

“Please don’t make me go into an existential crisis right now. . . you always do this when we’re stargazing”

You chuckled. It's true. Your thoughts would frequently go straight to the strangest concepts.

“Xavier, do you think the moon landings were real? Be honest.”

“But xavier, think about it, we can’t be the only living species in our galaxy.. aliens are real and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

“xavi, isn’t it strange they haven’t explored the entire ocean yet? They must be hiding something from us”

“I’m serious xavi, I’m glad we found each other in this lifetime.” Tears are about to escape your eyes as you say, "You mean a lot to me.” When Xavier realized how emotional you were getting, he sneaked his hand under your head and drew you into his body. The hand under you encircled your body as you flipped to your side and laid your head on his chest.

“Hey hey, no crying when the stars are looking right at you.” You giggled at what he said. You were constantly reminded of the one time you told him those exact words when tears of frustration fell from his eyes. It now became something you told each other often as a way to comfort one another.

“You mean a lot to me too, y/n. Without you, I honestly don't know where I would be right now”. Letting out a sigh as he expressed his thoughts, Xavier was drawing tiny figures on your shoulders. Under the stars was a vulnerable place to be.

“With all your bottled frustration, you'd likely be in prison for murder, not to mention lonely.”

“That was strangely specific, but okay.”

He always managed to make you laugh.

“But seriously, y/n, I'm glad I found you in this life, and I hope I find you in the next," your best friend said, a tear streaming down your cheek at the lovely moment you two had shared.

You shifted your attention back to the flickering stars that illuminated the night sky. He was so special to you, you thought. You were sure that without him, you would not have survived some of your most difficult days at Nevermore. On your first day of school, your awkward fencing partner was someone you never imagined would mean so much to you. Being under the stars brought you nothing but peace. Or maybe it was the fact that you felt so safe around your best friend.

A.N: feed back always welcomed friends! It makes my heart explode.

if you sent in a request, I see you! waiting to get home to start working on them so I can give it my full attention.

for the bestie that sent in this request- ty. i didn’t know I needed this. i hope it was more or less what you were hoping for. thank you for requesting 🤍🦋🪴🧚🏼‍♀️

if you enjoyed this one- you might like ‘mission accomplished’ if you haven’t read it yet!

As always— requests are always open! Share your thoughts! Talk to me! Get something off your mind! ✨

#wednesday #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thrope imagine #xavier thorpe fluff #imagine #percy hynes white #fangirlieswriting #xavier thorpe fic #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe blurb

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