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saetoru · 6 months

Text

BEWARE OF PHAGOCYTIC RAIN — AL-HAITHAM.

kinktober day three — aphrodisiacs ; find masterlist here

synopsis. the akademiya textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea, and mild sexual arousal. except the textbook lied. it’s not mild. al-haitham and you might need to pause your desert trip for a moment

length. 4.3k words (omg this is the shortest one so far)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, aphrodisiacs + dub con, mentions of injuries and blood (al-haitham gets stung by a consecrated scorpion), reader sits on his lap, hand jobs, unprotected sex, no prep, riding, creampie, implied (future) multiple orgasms, reader is mentioned to have a dendro vision + is a haravatat scholar

notes. i made this up. the new consecrated scorpions lore is that their venom can be a sex stimulant thanks

“haitham,” you complain—although, you probably really shouldn’t. in fact, you definitely should not complain. al-haitham has so graciously allowed you to accompany this trip to the desert, and you should not get in the way. still, your feet ache, and the sun is blaring, and god—would kill you both to have a break? “can’t we just stop for a bit?”

but with you, al-haitham is always patient. you can see him diligently take the time to be patient as he stills and sighs quietly, not letting himself ever get frustrated with you. “it’ll get cold if night falls,” he reasons, “c’mon, you’ll definitely want to rest inside the ruins instead of outside tonight.”

“but baby,” you protest, “my feet hurt.”

“i know,” he nods, like validating your feelings will make them any better, “but the safest option would be to camp inside the ruins instead of out here—”

“hey, haitham?” you cut him off, suddenly whispering quietly as you huddle closer, “what…what’s that?” he looks over his shoulder to where you point—and then he stiffens.

“oh, great,” he hisses, groaning under his breath, “seriously? now?”

what looks like a giant scorpion seems to be pacing in the distance, the large, sharp stinger on its tail clear as day, even from where you stand, a good range away. you’ve never seen one of these before, never even heard of giant scorpions that roam the desert. al-haitham has certainly never told you about seeing them, with all the times he visits the desert himself. he seems rather familiar with them, too, staring exasperatedly off at the beast as it circles the territory you absolutely have to pass.

“why is there a giant scorpion here? are there always these things in the desert? i’ve never heard of—wait,” you pause, “i have a textbook from the akademiya on desert exploration. i brought it just in case!”

“we don’t need that,” he insists, “i’ve dealt with these plenty of times. just leave it to me.”

you’ve never been to the desert—but al-haitham always mentions the ancient letters he sees in the ruins he explores. it’s tempting; being a scholar is always the never-ending temptation of knowledge—and you are both haravatat scholars, after all. studying an ancient alphabet is enough to make you plead with al-haitham to take you with him on his next trip.

he can’t say no to you, of course—he never can. but it’s your first time here, and evidently…it’s not going exactly as planned.

you open the book, skimming through the pages before your eyes land on a sketch that looks strikingly similar to the same beast you see in the distance. the textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. that seems like complete and utter bullshit—this seems rather deadly.

“haitham,” you whisper, “i think we should leave. this doesn’t seem—”

“we can take it,” he argues, “i’ve taken them before on my own quite a lot in the past.”

“but baby, this one seems a bit big—”

“it’ll be fine,” he assures.

you sigh, looking back at the book and scanning over the section that goes into detail about its attack patterns. “okay, fine—let me just read over how they attack so i know what to expect.”

phagocytic form—beasts enter phagocytic form immediately when in combat, resulting in an increase in resistance to all elements. there is double the resistance to electro attacks. well, you think, it’s a good thing cyno isn’t the one fighting today—otherwise, you think you might be screwed.

this is fine. everything is fine. you and al-haitham both have dendro visions; this shouldn’t be too bad, right?

melee combo one—beasts perform a two-part combo with their claws. alright, not too bad. you can easily dodge that, you reason. melee combo two—beasts perform a three-part combo consisting of a single strike with both claws, a flurry of claw strikes while rushing forward, and a projectile fired from its stinger. now that seems a bit troublesome, but you’ve dealt with worse.

“i’ll take care of it,” al-haitham calls over his shoulder, catching your attention as he draws out his sword. you look up from the pages frantically.

“wait, i really think we should handle this together if we’re going to take this. just let me read on the attack patterns a bit more—”

he’s already made the first attack. you can hear the angry hiss of the scorpion, can practically see the fury in its beady eyes from behind the thick skull covering its head. al-haitham, to your slight comfort, dodges melee combos one and two expertly.

maybe he was right—maybe you’ve been panicking for nothing.

you look back at the book. dig—beasts dig into the ground and attack the target from below, staying within the range of a visible electro ring. alright, as long as you leave the ring before the scorpion pops out of the ground, you should be fine. nothing to worry about. spikes—beasts plug their tails into the ground and rapidly produce spikes around themselves to shock targets. another easy dodge—you just have to make sure you escape the vicinity.

you look up, and al-haitham has already easily leapt from the ring and landed himself on higher ground. he waits, watches as the beast emerges from underground, and plants its tail into the ground—this must be the spikes. al-haitham is rather excellent at fighting these things—you have to admit. as soon as the spikes are gone, he takes his chance to plunge down, perfectly landing a hard hit to its head with the edge of his sword, making its body slump to the ground.

he might just finish this alone like he said.

“there,” he nods, flashing you a smooth grin, “i told you i’d handle it. now then, let’s—”

the loud, sinister hiss from behind cuts him off—it makes you watch in abject horror as the scorpion rises and does a rapid spin.

you look over the pages as quickly as you can—is there more? there’s nothing else on the page, is there? you quickly flick your eyes to the next page and—oh.

oh no.

phagocytic rain—beasts rapidly spin and scatter many stingers into the air before slamming their claws and unleashing stingers down from above. these stingers, once pierced into the skin, can cause side effects as a result of consecrated venom.

“well, it’s never done that before,” al-haitham holds up his sword, getting ready to fight.

no. he has to get away—he needs to get away. the words don’t come quick enough from your throat as you scream, “haitham, no! you have to get away—”

it’s too late. you can hear him let out a strangled groan of pain, clutching his arm as his sword instantly falls to the floor, a gash already decorating his skin from a stinger he didn’t manage to dodge. before you can even think, you grab your weapon and run, leaping between al-haitham and the scorpion and landing another perfect blow to its head—just before that giant, deadly-looking stinger on its tail can plunge into him.

it goes limp, falling to the floor with a thud, the glow of its body dimming instantly.

“fuck,” he curses—al-haitham rarely curses. this is not a light sting. “since when do they do that?”

“since forever,” you hiss, grabbing the edge of his cape to press on his wound and stop the blood flow, “maybe if you’d just listened to me and read the attack patterns with me, you’d have known that.”

“i’ve fought these plenty of times,” he says indignantly, teeth still grit in pain, “they never do that.”

“maybe if you weren’t such a know it all,” you grumble—but then you gently reach over, cupping his cheek as you trace a thumb over the skin comfortingly, “is it too bad?” you ask, concern evident enough in your tone that he feels slightly bad.

al-haitham shakes his head, sighing quietly as you kiss his jaw. “i’ll be fine. i’ll just patch it up before we camp for the night.”

“are you sure? maybe we should—”

“it’ll be fine,” he hums, “their venom isn’t deadly anyway.”

—————

you and al-haitham manage to make it to the ruins by nightfall. somehow, miraculously, the two of you are able to trek towards the pyramid and seek shelter indoors for the night, right before it gets too dark and too cold.

al-haitham seems to act stranger and stranger as time goes on, quietly sitting in a corner against the wall and patching his arm up himself as you set up the fire by the tent. you look over at him and watch as he shudders and groans lightly.

“are you sure you’re alright?” you ask in concern, walking over and sitting as you curl up next to him, raising a brow as his body seems to stiffen at your touch, “baby, you seem…”

“i’m fine,” he says curtly.

you don’t seem to be convinced, furrowing your brows before pressing a palm to his forehead—hot. incredibly and unnaturally hot skin that’s flushed a shade of crimson you hardly see on al-haitham, even when you tease him in that cheeky, flirty little way of yours that dusts blush over his face every time.

“haitham,” you gasp, hand brushing back his bangs to feel more of his skin—it’s only then, do you realize just how sweaty his skin seems to be, too. “you’re burning up!”

“i’m okay—”

“maybe you should take your shirt off,” you say quickly, wiping the sweat from his forehead as you sit up straight, “it’s just the two of us here, anyway. it’ll be fine—”

“no,” he grits, voice strangled, “i’m—hah” he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, “—i’m okay. just leave me alone, please. i’ll just go walk it off in a bit.”

he’s panting. you can hear the way his voice is strained and the way his chest rises and falls rather rapidly. you should check the book again, just to see if there’s anything about the side effects in the event you do happen to get stung.

“hmm, the textbook says—”

“do not read the textbook,” he practically begs.

you do anyway. “possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea,” you start, glancing up at him and eyeing his patched arm, “well, there was some swelling. are you nauseous?”

“no,” he almost wheezes out.

“let’s see, and it also says it can cause—oh.”

possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea—you pause and swallow thickly as you read over the final part—and mild sexual arousal. sexual arousal. well, that would explain the heated and flushed skin, you suppose. and the sweat. you glance up at al-haitham—he does anything but meet your eyes.

“i told you,” he says stiffly, muffling a groan as he crosses his arms and hunches forward, “i’ll be fine—”

“baby,” you hum, chuckling slightly as you run a hand through his hair—he gulps, still avoiding your gaze, “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“don’t,” he warns, jaw clenching as he looks up and stares at you with that same look of hunger you’ve seen so many times before. it’s clear al-haitham is trying to fight off whatever he’s feeling—but the reality is clear.

he’s very quickly losing himself to his desires.

“but it’s just us in here,” you insist, hand trailing down his chest slowly before settling on his thigh. his breath hitches, following your hand with his eyes as it rubs along slowly and moves closer and closer inwards. “these ruins have been abandoned for who knows how long—and we’re the only ones from the akademiya cleared to explore them.”

“don’t,” he says again—there’s a warning tone to his voice this time, slightly more raspy and entirely more breathless, “if…if i start, i don’t know if i’ll be able to stop.”

“oh, but haitham,” you pout, slinging a leg over his waist and seating yourself on his lap. you stare down at his crotch—wet. there’s a very noticeable wet patch over the bulge in his pants. you wonder how you didn’t notice it sooner. “who says i’d want you to stop?”

“love, i’m serious,” he closes his eyes and swallows, panting as a bead of sweat rolls down his temple, “you should sleep. i’ll be okay—o-oh, fuck,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, hissing as you reach past his waistband and free his strained cock from the confinements.

it’s thick, his erection—probably far more swollen than you’ve ever seen it before. it almost looks painful, with how red it is at the tip, with how it twitches from nothing else but the cool air hitting the heated skin. you think it might just be aching, in fact, from how he whimpers as you wrap a hand around it, just barely squeezing, just barely applying pressure to really relieve anything.

“hmm,” you look down, inspecting, “seems sensitive.” you give it a slow, experimental stroke, instantly making him groan loudly as his head falls back, a stream of pre cum leaking from the tip enough to coat his already slick cock.

“fuck, fuck—more,” he rasps, hand grabbing your thigh and squeezing hard to ground himself.

“okay,” you murmur, nodding to yourself, “very sensitive. guess we’ll just have to get this out of your system.”

you drag your hand over his length, slow at first, before building up a quick, steady rhythm—just the way he’s always liked it. you lean in, kissing along his jaw as he writhes under you while you squeeze around the base of his cock, rolling your palm over his tip before repeating the motion over and over and over again.

his mouth is parted, low groans and the occasional soft whine fall past his lips, making the ache between your own legs worsen as you watch him fall apart. there’s a dull throb in your core, and you can feel the fabric of your underwear dampen, but all you’re worried about for now is the man before you. any other time, you’d think it’s a bit shameless, doing something so dirty, so filthy, so inappropriate in the middle of the desert like this–especially while on a research expedition, no less. but you couldn’t just leave your boyfriend to suffer like this, could you? what kind of girlfriend would you be then? and you’re not so cruel as to leave al-haitham to suffer like this all night, or longer, even—who knows how long before the side effects wear off? it’s the wisest choice to just help him, to take care of him like he always takes care of you.

that’s right, you think to yourself—you’re helping him like any doting lover would. you’re not at all interested by this predicament of his…or aroused, for that matter. no, you’re simply worried for him, and it’s up to you to relieve him of the painfully frustrating tension he must be suffering through after he so graciously fought to protect you from the dangers of the desert.

“jus’ like that,” he gasps as you touch him, chest still rising and falling as quickly as before—his shirt is damp too, a noticeable wet patch forming over most of it as the sweat collects on the fabric, “d-don’t stop—fuck, feels so good.”

“c’mon, haitham,” you murmur, taking your other hand to tug at the end of his shirt, “take this off—i told you, you’ll feel better.”

he listens—whatever is in that venom must be something strong because al-haitham is the most stubborn individual you’ve ever met. under normal circumstances, he’d refuse to take his shirt off even if, deep down, he knew himself it’d help. but right now, he quickly reaches at the hem before pulling it off, tossing it to the side as his bare chest is exposed for you to admire. his usual pale skin is flushed, a soft pink that glistens from the sweat that he can’t seem to get rid of, even as you work his swollen cock with your fist.

it’s pretty, the way he sounds, the way he looks. you run a thumb over his slit, and he whimpers. not too often of times have you heard al-haitham whimper—but today, he seems to have lost any and all control, too busy thrusting his hips up to meet your strokes as he moans lowly.

“when’d you start to feel it?” you ask curiously, pecking his forehead as you leave scattered kisses along his face, “how long have you been trying to play it off?”

“s-since…” he starts, but he trails off as your thumb traces over a thick being along the underside of his length, letting out a soft whine at the feeling before bucking his hip into your hand more desperately. you don’t think you’ve ever seen al-haitham so worked up—so needy and riled up and painfully fucked out before he’s even cum yet. “since i f-first got stung,” he admits through labored breaths, “just got worse slowly.”

“you should’ve told me,” you coo, “not like i don’t see you like this anyway. poor thing,” you pout softly, eyeing the way his cock twitches in your hand, more beads of pre cum oozing from the tip and leaving a stream down his length, “looks like it hurts.”

“it does,” he rasps, “feels…feels like ‘m gonna pass out.”

“don’t worry,” you hum, squeezing tighter around him, working him quicker as your hand jerks his aching cock off with a tight fist, “i’ll help you cum. ‘s what you deserve for fighting that thing for me. my strong baby.”

“c-close,” he says through a cracked voice, like the praise is enough to send him hurtling over the edge, “‘m so close—sh-shit.”

“yeah?” you ask sweetly, pecking his forehead, “then cum, baby. think you’ll feel much better.”

you roll a thumb over his nipple, hard under the pad of your thumb, and enough to make him gasp loudly before he lets out a deep grunt, cum spilling from his sensitive tip. it’s more than you’ve ever seen from him—thick, endless ropes of hot, sticky cum coating your hand and his abs as you pump his cock through his orgasm. you’re glad you made him take his shirt off—this would’ve been an even more unpleasant trip if he’d had to walk around in a soiled shirt.

“fuck, f-fuck—so g-good,” he stutters, his head thrown back against the wall that supports his body, legs spreading apart to give you better access to working his cock through his high. one hand reaches to play with his balls as you milk his cock, squeezing as you stroke upwards and watch every thick drop of cum shoot past his tip.

it feels like forever, his orgasm. it’s long, and his voice is strained from calling your name over and over by the time he’s finished—but he’s still just as hard as before. no—in fact, you think he might be even harder.

“well…” you start, staring at his erection as it rests against his sculpted abs, “i don’t think that did much.”

“no,” he pants, staring at you through lust-hazed eyes, “it didn’t. but i have an idea that might help, though.”

“yeah? what is it, oh wise grand sage?”

al-haitham, for the first time ever, doesn’t correct you that he’s the acting grand sage. instead, he lifts you up slightly and pulls your pants down to pool at your ankles before lining your dripping cunt over his cock. you bite your lip, moving to ever so slightly drag his tip along your clit, making the both of you shiver with a desperate gasp at the ghost friction.

“i think,” he starts, finger circling your clit slowly as you whine before letting your head fall to the crook of his neck, “that perhaps fucking you might be the only way to get this out of my system. what do you say?”

“haitham, please,” you whine, fingers digging into his shoulders as you clutch onto him, “need you.”

“yeah?” he chuckles breathlessly, replacing his finger and teasing your folds with the tip of his cock, coating the head with the slick of your pussy as you quiver over him, “need me, huh? i thought i was the one who got stung. shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

you would scoff if you weren’t aching to feel the burning stretch of him intruding your neglected cunt—al-haitham always finds a way to be himself at the end of the day. always so frustratingly confident and painfully good at teasing.

“fuck me, haitham,” you plead, pushing your hips down until the first few inches of his length push past your entrance, dragging his tip along your folds and pulling a whine from you as he chokes on a low groan.

“f-fuck,” he grunts, “so tight—a-always so tight.”

his hands grasp at your hips, slowly guiding you to sink all the way down on his cock, taking it inch by inch until he’s buried all the way, his tip nudging perfectly against that sensitive spot in the back of your walls. al-haitham feels like he’s been made just for you like that—fitting you perfectly enough that he hits all the right spots without even trying, without even having to angle his hips in order to give you what you need from him.

you feel sweat collect on your own forehead, mirroring the same glistening of his own skin as you bite your lip and whimper out a pathetic, “h-haitham, more—please.”

“it’s a good thing i brought you with me,” he pants as he snaps his hips up, his hands still guiding your hips to bounce on his cock as you pull up before slamming back down, your walls hugging his thick girth tightly while his fat tip presses against your sweet spot. “imagine where i’d be if you weren’t here. j-jus’ wouldn’t feel the same if i was fucking my fist instead of this sweet cunt.”

the stretch is too good—the way he splits you open as he bullies into your pussy, pushing past your folds and dragging his thick veins along your walls, makes your head spin, pleasure burning up your nerves and spreading across your entire body. your lips attach themselves to his neck, kissing and sucking along the skin as he groans and tightens his bruising grip on your hips.

“b-baby—fuck, ‘s so good,” you mewl, “h-haitham—oh.”

“take me so well,” he says breathlessly, face falling slack as your walls flutter around his length and relieve the ache that was all too overwhelming just a few moments ago—being buried into your pussy is enough to turn the tight grit of his jaw into a loose, parted lips as he moans your name. “taking it so well, like the good girl you are. you—ngh, fuck—you want to make me feel better, don’t you?”

“i do,” you nod, sobbing as his thumb finds your clit and rubs harsh circles into the delicate bundle of nerves, “i do, i do—please, haitham. faster, need more.”

“yeah?” he lets out a strangled chuckle, biting his lip and groaning as you snap your hips down particularly rough, squeezing around him tightly, “you need more? i’d almost say you were stung instead of me.”

your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving angry, red marks in their wake as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your hips. you slam down on him with every roll of your hips, his own meeting you halfway as he bucks up, fucking into you—you can feel it, the impending high that you reach closer and closer to, every circle of his thumb on your clit and every brush of his cock against your walls bringing you close to falling off the edge.

“‘m…g-gonna cum, haitham—fuck, a-almost there, baby,” you pant, mewling as you throw your head back while he leans in to kiss your neck, biting hard enough that you almost wonder if there’s blood.

“me too,” he groans, “you…you’re so perfect,” you feel his head bury into your shoulder, his forehead digging into your shoulder as you cradle the back of his head with a hand and whine, “i’m bringing you to every trip—fuck you in every ruin i explore. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“yes, yes—please,” you babble, nodding as your back arches before you feel the coil snap—you gasp his name, a repeat of haitham, haitham, haitham, falling from your lips as he fucks into you through your high. the spasm of your walls around him sends him hurtling into his second orgasm—even more earth-shattering than the first.

“that’s it,” he moans, his voice deep and raspy as it cracks in the middle, “can’t even be mad i got stung—not when you let me fuck you l-like this. so…feels so good—’m c-cumming.”

it’s not the first time al-haitham has cum in you—but it’s never felt like this before. it’s hot, his cum—it spills into you and coats your walls in a sticky mess that forms a ring at the base of his cock as it pumps into you. the mess of his release and your arousal coats both of your thighs, leaking from your abused cunt and smearing along your skin. you can feel him twitch with every rope, can feel the way he throbs as he spills into you and paints your walls white with his release. it’s desperate—needy and so, so filthy, just like the sounds he makes into your ear, breathless pants that make your stomach do flips as you listen to him fall apart and break.

he slumps as he finishes, your body falling against him as you both pant harshly and catch your breaths. he kisses your neck delicately as you stroke his hair, admiring his spent form under you.

“as much as i hate that you got stung,” you mumble, “this…this might not have been the worst thing.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, looking up and raising a brow—it’s only then that you feel it, the twitch of his still hard cock, still buried deep in your abused cunt, “are you sure? because we aren’t nearly finished yet—i really hope you’re prepared to take it.”

the textbook may have lied, you think—this is not mild at all. this might delay your trip quite a bit.

i would go with him hoping he gets stung every time so i could suck the soul out of him tbh

#🎃 — kinkteeber !!#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you #thirstee!#teepods.writings #fics.

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ceruleancattail · 4 months

Note

CERU!! HI HI :D

i have this one silly idea i think you might like!

so so, imagine you share classes with cater/jade/floyd (sitting next to them, if you will), and when they glance at your notebook, it's filled with tiny doodles, specifically them

or!! you saw their notebooks littered with doodles of you instead!

this one was when my friend found my philosophy notebook with a smol lilia in a gamer box corner lmao

take all the time you need if you decided to do this one! :D

Doodling

Cater x reader, Jade x reader, Floyd x reader

Cater

Cater finds his attention waning, occasionally. Twisting his pen around, he does his best to fight the urge to check his phone. He’s already done it five times this hour. Horrible habits die the hardest.

As sneakily as he can, Cater leans into your side, head leaning into the curve of your shoulder. His emerald eyes straying over the pages of your notebook, trying to find something to amuse himself with.

The moment you felt his gaze on you, you froze up. Hands hastily fumbling across the table, shielding the contents of your notebook from view. As quickly as you managed to react, Cater still managed to catch a tiny little glimpse of what you’ve scribbled onto those lined pages.

Little doodles of… him? Cute tiny drawings doodled onto the very edges of your notes, surrounded with miniature diamonds and quite a number of rosy red hearts.

Immediately, Cater turned away. Covering the lower half of his face with his palm, in an attempt to hold back his squeals of excitement. That’s just so cute of you!

Do you have any more? He’ll love to see them! Cater’s immediately wiggling a little closer to your side, poking at your notebook until you let him flip through the pages.

Aw, why are you embarrassed? You make him look totally adorable in those doodles!

Cater tries to draw a little sketch of his own right next to one of yours. A little doodle of you, standing right next to him. If you ask him why, he’s just going to chuckle and shoot you a playful grin. Avoiding the question the best way he knows how.

The truth is?

He just doesn’t feel right if you’re not next to him, so just indulge him this time, ok?

Jade

Jade is quiet. Almost silent, even. With his slender frame, he cuts through water with all the elegance of a finely honed blade. Silent, deadly. Even on land, his footfalls are as soft as freshly fallen snow. You’ll never hear him coming.

Which unfortunately works against you most of the time. He seems to relish the feeling of shocking you back to the present, whenever your attention starts to wander. Normally, you’ll hear him snigger, or if he’s feeling a little more teasing that day, the sensation of his ice cold fingers, tracing down the nape of your neck.

Today, it was the latter. As you yelp, reaching for the back of your neck, Jade is silent. His attention currently fixed onto the open notebook on your table, pages fluttering, beckoning him closer.

Gingerly, his fingers reach for the pages. Tracing every stroke on the paper, especially that particularly long stroke of hair framing the subject’s face.

It’s him. In every page.

Little doodles of Jade in the corners, peeking out from every margin. Drawings of him, in the midst of doing various tasks around the Mostro Lounge, along with some particular goofy ones accompanied by giant mushrooms… and hearts. Quite a number of them, actually.

The latest drawing is of him facing forward in class. Eyes narrowed in concentration, chin on his palm. How utterly adorable of you, to capture every single detail of his appearance within a few strokes. You must observe him very dearly.

Jade turns his full attention to you, leaning so much more closer to you than before. His lips curl up into a sly little smile, beaming at you. Now, you don’t have to be so secretive about it, you little artist.

You know he’s always more then willing to pose for drawings.

Well, only if you’re the only asking.

Floyd

Floyd shifts around quite a bit, during class. Normally, you’re pretty eager to chat away with him. Unfortunately, today you seemed a little more preoccupied listening to the lesson instead of Floyd.

Now, what fun is that? He’s so bored just sitting around. Well, you being next to him helps, but come on! You’re not even paying him one bit of attention. Instead you were hunched over the table, pen scribbling away furiously.

Floyd stares at your hand as it moves around, his own hand absentmindedly following suit. While his dance danced in circles in the air, Floyd muses silently. It’s hard to see how those sweeping wide strokes of yours could possibly form words.

Leaning towards you, Floyd dips his head onto your shoulder. Curling his lips into an “o”, before puffing a gust of wind onto the skin of your bare neck. Shuddering at the sudden chill, your pen clatters against the table.

Seizing his chance, Floyd’s hand darts over. Those slender fingers of his wrapping around the pages of your book, yanking it sharply to his side.

Leisurely, Floyd flips the book open. Ready to see what his lil’ shrimpy seemed ever so eager to hide.

Sketches of… him. Toothy grin as bright as the sun, beaming away. Y’know, most people find his smile scary. Not… as endearingly as you seem to see it, illustrating it as sweetly as you did.

You drew him zooming around the Night Raven College, leaping into antic after antic. Little hearts follow every doodle, trailing after tiny Floyd. Ain’t that cute?

Aw, shrimpy! You never told him you could draw. That isn’t too fair, yeah? Hogging all the fun to yourself, sketching him on the sly.

Floyd’s elbowing you playfully, stretching out an upturned palm towards you. Huh? What’s that look for?

Give him a pen, he wants to draw you too!

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #cater x reader #cater diamond x reader #cater diamond #cater #Jade leech #jade x reader #jade leech x reader #jade #Floyd leech #Floyd leech x reader #Floyd #Floyd x reader #lucky potion 🔷

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mondaymelon · 10 months

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— 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀. ♥

:feat~ albedo, kaeya, zhongli, childe, ayato, thoma, alhaitham, kaveh x gn!reader:

⤷ sometimes, warm moments like these is what truly makes their love apparent.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @solxima, @poweredbyghostadventures, @haliyamori

"May I... sketch you?"

ALBEDO's request is quiet - well-mannered as he's caught gazing at you with those deep turquoise eyes of his, holding a pencil aloft in one gloved hand.

"Go ahead." You let a smile cross your expression briefly, glancing up at him and letting your eyes meet. His stare is warm, contrasting to his usual blank expression that he wears so frequently. Your cheeks warm as his lips curve upwards into a gentle smile, and the quietest laugh escapes from his lips.

"Hm, if you keep looking at me with those eyes, I'm not sure if I'll be able to focus at all." His voice is playful, almost, before he flips to a new page in his sketchbook, which is set against his usual easel, and begins to draw.

And although only silence surrounds the two of you, occasionally accompanied by the gentle scratching of Albedo's sketching pencil moving across the paper, everything feels perfectly familiar.

Sunlight filters through the large windows, bathing the entire room in a cordial glow. From where you silently sit, you can feel your heart quicken at the sight of Albedo quietly standing, occasionally glancing at you with a diligent gaze.

It's clear that no words need to be shared between the two of you. The soft smile set on the male's face unmistakably says enough.

It's an expression that reads, "I love you." ♥

"Here, shall I order you another drink?"

KAEYA's voice seems to waltz in the thick air. Amongst the mixed chatter and low tones of the bar, his smooth one is something that stands out. His eye twinkles as he glances at you, slowly swirling the contents of his own glass with a distant amusement. "The night's just begun, after all."

"Ah, no thanks... I have work tomorrow." You sheepishly decline his offer, not wanting to wake up to a vicious hangover the next morning... which had happened the last time the two of you went out for drinks. It seemed that that was Kaeya's idea of "entertainment".

"Mm, very well. It's a pity, but I suppose I can't ignore your reasoning." With a short sigh and a loose shrug of his shoulders, he lets out a small laugh. "Ah, but since you won't be drinking any more, perhaps I'll make up for it?"

You don't understand his words... not until he takes the wine bottle off the table and downs it all with startling quickness.

"Kaeya!?"

"Ahaha... oh, maybe that wasn't such a great idea..." His body tips, his head lolling onto your shoulder with a drunken stupor. Kaeya holds his drink well, so it's certainly not everyday where you'll see the cavalry captain in such an intoxicated state. You can sense that something has changed in his gaze, from the way his interested gaze flicks up to your face from where he leans against your shoulder.

"Hm..." He mumbles it to himself, mostly, and it's something you're sure you weren't meant to hear, but you do.

"Haha... How could I be so lucky as to have you as my lover...?" ♥

"Love, are you tired? Come here."

ZHONGLI's expression is gentle, amber eyes warm as he lightly gestures to the space beside him. The evening air is cool, so his touch is inviting more than anything.

His gaze seems to melt as you sit beside him, body leaning against his. He's quick to move his arms, wrapping one around you, pulling you into the frame while the other stays by his side.

If you had glanced up at him then, you would've seen the gentle smile that spread across his features. Yet you didn't, and instead leaned into his warmth with a smile of your own.

Perhaps you're imagining it, but in the quiet of the night, you can almost hear Zhongli's heart beating alongside yours. Steadfast, strong. An unbreakable will.

And while you held such admiration for the male, he, in return, held such affection for you. You, the beacon of his attention and you, who had captured his heart obliviously.

Every second he spends with you is bliss - moments he will never take for granted.

Above you, Zhongli lets out a satisfied breath, running his fingers through your hair with an unimaginable delicateness. He stays there for a moment, musing to himself with twinkling golden eyes as he plays with your locks absentmindedly... although anyone who knows Zhongli is well aware that he is not one to be absent minded in any matter.

Ah, is he saying something? His words are quiet, so much so you can't hear them, but his lips move accordingly with every word.

"The day will come where we are not together, but until then, please, let me hold you for as long as it may last." ♥

"You can open your eyes now!"

CHILDE's game had been rather suspicious from the start - yet, the first thing you notice when you open your eyes is the glimmering excitement that seems to dance across his features. And while his amusement always had been somewhat plastic, some part of you knew that this enthusiasm was genuine. He takes your hands, his touch warm, and spins you around in a half-hug that seems to make you fly.

"Hey, do you like it?" His voice is higher-pitched - airy and hopeful.

Huh? Oh... he means-

You had meant to look at his surprise, but found yourself gazing distractedly at him instead. In his arms, he holds a bouquet of your favorite flowers, each and every bud fully in bloom, every petal pristine. How he got them to be so perfect, you might never know, but you can already feel a smile forming on your face.

A laugh escapes your lips as you throw your arms around the male, pulling yourself into his embrace. There's a moment of shock before he returns it, and you can see the way his own lips curve upwards.

His eyes are the same deep azure, void of light... and it'd likely be too much to hope that any sort of brightness would return to such, yet sometimes, in the late hours where you would be cuddled up beside him, there was no mistaking how his expression seemed to lighten at the sight of you.

"I love it." The words come out almost like a whisper, but the male hears it.

"And I love you." ♥

"Oh, were you waiting for me?"

AYATO's violet eyes seem to sparkle as he rounds the corner and spots you leaning against the wall, heedlessly standing there with a tentative air. "If you wanted to see me, you could've told one of my retainers... or, perhaps the thought hadn't crossed your mind in such haste?" There's a smirk on his face as he chuckles lightly.

"I just thought waiting for you would be faster." You pout, cheeks slightly flushed at his jesting.

Ah, there it was. The expression that had made him fall for you. The male can only laugh further. "Very well, then I suppose I'll have to indulge you then, correct?" He begins to walk down the hallway and gestures for you to follow suit. At the end of the corridor stands two armored guards, attentively glancing across the courtyard with weapon in hand. As the two of you cross them, they respectfully bow their heads.

"Commissioner Kamisato and esteemed guest, we greet you."

"Thank you." Ayato smiles, but it's one without warmth. "You are dismissed."

"...Pardon?" The first one seems dumbfounded, but the second seems to get the hint and tugs on the other's shoulder, leading them out of the area.

"Hm... now there are no prying eyes, let's talk, shall we?" He sits and you mimic his actions, watching with a flitting gaze as the Ayato himself stares at you, seemingly transfixed. "How have you been, love?" There's already two cups of hot tea set at the table, but somehow, he pulls a cup of boba from his sleeve instead.

And while you're telling him all about the day's occurrences, waving your hands about as you elaborate, you pause as you hear a quiet laugh emit from the male.

"Oh sorry, go on."

"You just look so beautiful right now... that I couldn't help but laugh at my good fortune." ♥

"Here, I made you this!"

THOMA beams warmly as he sets something on your head, a something that smells rather fragrant, like fresh vanilla. The blonde's smile is contagious, lethally so... from the way his spring eyes are glimmering excitedly, to the manner on how his expression brightened as soon as he had spotted you - everything about it, about him seemed to make your heart feel warm.

You glance up. Wind... Windwheel Asters? Weren't those the flowers from Mondstadt? Low and behold, there they were, stems intricately intertwined together, occasional leaves flourishing outwards as the heads delicately spin in the gentle breeze.

"A... A merchant came by and was selling some flowers from my hometown, so I thought..." Thoma's voice trails off as his face slowly grows redder. In a way, he's slightly ashamed. Perhaps he shouldn't have indulged in such a childish hobby, gifting you a flower crown? With the way your eyes have widened... do you dislike it-?

All those thoughts cease instantaneously as he feels something warm - your lips, pressed against his cheek as you give him a quick kiss. When you pull away, your happy expression is something that makes his eyes widen in surprise as he feels his heart soar.

"Ah, but now I feel bad..." You put a finger to your chin, pondering a thought. "You've given me such a priceless gift, yet I don't have a thing in return..." Instantly, Thoma is all over your slumped figure.

"Nono, please don't say that! You being here is the best gift I could wish for." ♥

"Are you done with this page yet?"

ALHAITHAM glances down at you. Your back is pressed against his chest, sitting in between his splayed legs comfortably as the male holds out his book for the both of you to read. As he breathes steadily, his chest rises and falls in a constant rhythm.

When you nod your head in approval, he flips the page, revealing the next. He's a fast reader, that much is apparent. You can't keep up with him, but he waits for you at the end of each and every one... and if he gets bored, he'll rest his chin on your head - or maybe even play with your hair, the slightest bit.

Sometimes, a distant part of you thought he reminded you of a cat.

But that was besides the point. The book isn't anything special - just more ancient Sumeru history, but the way Al Haitham is staring at every page so diligently would make one think that he's reading something incredibly riveting. You've seen that look before, now that you think about it. It's the certain type of gaze that you've caught Al Haitham using out of the corner of your eye. The type of stare that just spells out his infatuation.

You haven't even noticed that your eyelids have begun to flutter shut until the male's deep voice emits once more: "Are you tired?"

There's a faint smile on his face, an expression that one could easily miss. In your drowsiness, however, you still manage to catch it. "Mhm."

Silently he sets down his book, before placing a hand behind your head and pushing you closer. He closes his eyes, his breathing composed.

"If you're drowsy, get some rest... But stay here, would you?" ♥

"Darling, what... what are you doing here?"

KAVEH stands in the doorway, ruby eyes wide. His stance is stiff as he somewhat comes to his senses, whipping his head about in an almost comical manner. "Why are you here? Is he home??"

He sounds so anxious it's hard not to laugh. "I just wanted to see you, so..." Your words come out as more sheepish as intended, and you can see his harried expression lighten.

"You didn't talk to Al Haitham, did you?" There's a new edge in his voice, although his jitteriness has significantly eased since the start of the conversation. "And he didn't say anything weird to you, did he??"

Oh. The realization finally hits you. He's jealous, isn't he?

"No, not at all. I haven't even seen him, actually." A giggle manages to escape your lips, and Kaveh visibly brightens at your mood.

"Good. Then, should we get out of here before he decides to show up?" Kaveh opts to place his work things aside, leaving Murak on the table to fend for himself as he quickly piles his blueprints onto the coffee table, emptying the bundles in his arms. He takes your hand as soon as possible, his grip tight but comfortable.

As he tugs you along and out the door into the warm evening air, glancing back at you, his crimson eyes seem to shimmer.

"You're mine, and I won't ever let you forget that." ♥

(a/n) oops this took me much longer than it shouldve

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myerssimp21 · 5 months

Text

Knife's Canvas (Pt. 1)

Yandere Poly!Ghostface x Reader

warnings: mention of torture (not reader), planned stalking.

prompt inspired by @jadedstarlight03 's prompt to @creepyyanderegirl on yandere stu with artistic reader. I liked it and took my own spin with it since I simp for Billy too.

"I admired your sketch!"

The cursive note, adorned with a smiley face, stared back at you, earning an A+ grade on your inaugural in-class creative writing assignment at Woodsboro High. As a newcomer, you had hoped your depictions of characters like Garfield and Scooby Doo would endear you to the teachers, and it appeared they did. Sketched in red pen and colored with pastel pink highlighter, your drawings grinned up at you, surrounded by tiny glitter hearts.

"Oh, those are wicked!"

The cute blonde girl seated behind you leaned over your shoulder, her minty breath fanning into your face as she praised, "Do you draw a lot? Did you do those in class? It's pretty fast if you did."

"Yeah! I started doing art last year, but you get better and faster with practice," you replied with a warm smile, eager to make your first friend. "I think these took about 3-4 minutes each."

Your face warmed as she leaned closer, her chest lightly pressing against your back as she inspected your paper. She pointed to the little hearts, "Those are so cute!" Her approving face turned toward you as she introduced herself, "I'm Tatum."

"I'm ____," you replied, pleased to make introductions effortlessly. The teacher's allowance for 5 minutes of free time before class's end was a welcome opportunity for socializing.

"You should join my friends and me after our next class for lunch; maybe some of us will be in your classes!"

"That would be so nice," you said, relief evident in your voice. "I'm honestly pretty shy, so making friends can be intimidating."

Her dazzling smile accompanied her words, "Perfect! If you have Chemistry next with Mr. Scott, I'll show you where it is if you don't already know."

"Um," you leaned down to your backpack, sifting through your new student documents to find your schedule. "Oh, it's actually history with Ms. Johnson."

"Hmm," Tatum leaned back, crossing her legs as she thought. "I think Billy has that class. Maybe if you leave a little early, you can catch him. He's the guy with the, uh," she seemed to struggle for words, "grunge hairstyle? I think he's wearing a dark red t-shirt today if that helps. He's a little grumpy sometimes, though, so if you're too nervous or he's mean, we'll look for you at lunch."

The bell rang, and students not already congregating by the door got up to leave. You neatly tucked your graded paper into its designated folder and stood, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as Tatum rose in tandem.

"I'll try!" you said with a giggle, even though meeting Billy made you nervous. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too," Tatum said, pulling a pack of gum from her bag and offering you a piece before you left. "I think your next class should be in that building, right? I’m not sure if you had it yesterday or if it’s a Tuesday-Thursday class."

Thanking her again, you made sure your Discman had the CD you liked the most before connecting your headphones and heading off in that direction. You'd only have a few minutes of music, but it was worth it!

After finding your next class, you lingered around the door since you were early, hoping to at least place who Billy was from Tatum's description. After a moment of trying to not look awkward as you stood around, you spotted him.

He did have a grungier hair style, reminding you of a movie star you'd seen on TV recently. It threatened to fall in his eyes as he stalked towards the door, a bored look on his face. Now that you noticed him more, it was hard to ignore that he had a pretty face. Trying to not overthink it now that you realized you thought he was kind of cute, you pulled your headphones down from your ears until they hung around your neck as he came closer to the class.

When he noticed you looking at him as he drew closer, his eyes narrowed suspiciously, the scowl on his face deepening and making you feel even more nervous.

"Hi," you said somewhat sheepishly, "I'm ___. I'm new and met Tatum in my last class. You must be Billy."

His eyebrow raises and his eyes soften, but the scowl remains, “Oh?”

“Yeah…” you trail off a little, unsure of what to say since his response was sort of dry, “I’m from the more southern part of the state and we moved up here for my dad’s new job. I hear you guys experience the seasons up here so I’m excited to see them! The leaves never change in the fall where I’m from.”

His dark brown eyes have been boring into yours as you speak, making your face feel warm for the second time today. They dart down to the folder in your hands and he smirks as he says, “That’s cool.”

For your history folder, you’d tried to paint torsos and busts like the ancient historic statues from Greece and Rome you’d seen in a National Geographic magazine on the cover. They were naked torsos, but you had tried to make the nipples on the women look less prominent to avoid getting into trouble. If you had any sense, you’d have depicted something else to entirely avoid the possibility of getting into trouble, but you’d gotten irritated at the idea of censoring art.

“Oh, thank you! I hope I don’t get shit for the nudity, but I guess I could probably give them all clothes if I need to.”

He nods towards the classroom and you notice the hallways are getting quieter, “We should head in. There’s a couple empty seats near me.”

Ms. Johnson's strategy to get the kids interested in history was to start with the brutality of the medieval age, it seemed; with diagrams of the torture methods they created being the highlight of her second class after syllabus day.

The history class, guided by Ms. Johnson's unwavering enthusiasm, delved into the unsettling corners of medieval history. As the lesson progressed, she took a moment to present an image of a haunting artifact, projecting it onto the screen for the entire class to see.

"Now, can anyone tell me what this is?" Ms. Johnson asked, gesturing to the screen. It was a grotesque device, an iron contraption with a cold, heartless design. Sharp spikes protruded inward, forming a cage around the wearer's head. The unsettling silence lingered as the class peered at the image, growing discomfort palpable.

To everyone's surprise, ____ confidently raised her hand, her eyes betraying an unexpected depth of knowledge.

"It's called the Scold's Bridle," she answered, her voice steady. "An oppressive device designed to silence women who dared to speak their minds. The spikes prevented any speaking, ensuring their voices remained stifled."

Billy arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "How do you know about that?"

____ shrugged, a nonchalant smile playing on her lips. "I read a lot. History isn't just about dates and battles; it's about the struggles people faced, especially women, and respecting the challenges they went through."

Billy's skepticism softened as he nodded slightly. "Guess history is more twisted than we think."

____ leaned towards him slightly, a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes and made his spine tingle slightly, "Oh, you have no idea."

"Ah, ____," Ms. Johnson said with genuine admiration and ____'s attention snapped back to her, "Impressive knowledge there. I'm eager to see your thoughts on this in more detail, perhaps in an essay. It's always refreshing when students connect with the material on a deeper level."

"Now, let's delve further into the complexities of medieval society. How these devices were not only instruments of physical torment but also symbolic of the societal norms of the time."

The lesson continued, and ____ slowly flipped through her sketchbook to find a fresh page, seemingly reviewing her previous art briefly as she did so. Billy faced the board, but his eyes were turned downward, toward ____'s hands. He caught a glimpse of previous drawings – a mix of cartoon characters and a few creepier depictions.

Angry faces splattered with red marks resembling blood and figures wearing intimidating masks (or just freaks with the scariest faces ever) caught his eye. Intrigued, he discreetly watched as she began absentmindedly sketching the torture devices described in class as she listened, switching out her pens to smear red ink on them. He caught his scoff before he uttered it when he realized she was drawing the devices in glitter pens, her eyes flickering from the images on the screen to back down at her paper.

He must have been too obvious, leaning in too closely or being too pointed with his staring now because she had flipped to a fresh page and locked eyes, an unreadable expression across her face. There was a pause before she tucked her sketchbook into her bag and turned her attention back towards the board.

Billy felt a mischievous idea forming in his head as he let his eyes linger on her, knowing she could probably see him staring in her peripheral. If she wasn't thrilled about him seeing her portfolio, perhaps there was more hiding in that sketchbook than just cutesy cartoons. It could be amusing for him and Stu to explore her place once they found out where she lived, hunting for more art she wasn't ready to showcase while they scoped out their new potential victim. If the glimpses of what he saw when she had flipped through it implied there was anything more beneath her vanilla exterior, Billy was confident that he and Stu could uncover it.

As the bell rang, she turned to him with what he'd call friendly eyes, the strange demeanor now gone, "Are you hungry or what? Is the cafeteria food at Woodsboro High edible or would I be better off hunting a bird?"

He huffed, "You'd be better off starving." Nodding towards the door, he started towards it, hardly waiting for ____ to collect her bag, "Maybe Randy will be enough of a simp to offer you whatever his mommy made for him."

Noticing the disdain Billy seemed to have for Randy's mother but feeling too tentative about the potential for conflict to ask more about it, ____ decided to leave it alone and hurry after him into the now bustling hallway.

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honey-words · 11 months

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spider boy — spider-man!midoriya izuku x reader

synopsis: you’ve talked to your neighbor a few times before and have waved at him on campus. But you’ve noticed he keeps really weird hours, sometimes hearing him go into his apartment at ungodly hours of the night. So when spider-man enters your apartment one night, it’s easy for you to connect the dots from there.

content warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, hints of angst, hurt/comfort

wc: 3.1k

author’s note: I believe in spider-man!deku supremacy :)

part 1 of the spider boy series

“Spider-man does it again! Only three blocks from the UA university campus, the masked hero—”

“You’re a spider-man fan?”

You jumped, almost dropping your phone and falling off of the bench in the process.

“Midoriya! You scared me.”

He laughed and you paused the video you were watching, a news clip from this morning. He settled down beside you on the bench, taking a sip of his iced coffee as he did.

“Yeah, I guess I am a fan,” you said. “Campus PD sucks and I think it’s funny a spider guy is more reliant than all of them put together.”

You both shared a laugh.

“I have to get to class,” Midoriya sighed, not making any movements to get up from the bench. “How’s Moony?”

“She’s great, thanks for asking,” you said, smiling back at him. Because Midoriya was the definition of a perfect neighbor. He had introduced himself when you first moved in and he saw the small cat carrier with a little black kitten, Moony, inside of it. From there it had been a pleasant acquaintanceship between the two of you.

“I’ll see you later, then,” he said, really standing up this time. “Bye!”

You waved goodbye as he left, then turned back to the video.

A thief had been running loose on campus for the last week, snatching cell phones and wallets from unsuspecting students on their way to class. Campus PD had found the thief this morning, literally on their doorstep with a sticky note that had a spider sketch stuck on his face.

A smaller feat of Spider-Man’s, but a good one nonetheless.

During your first lecture of the day you could see other people were watching the same video and reading the accompanying article. It was the first time Spider-Man had acted so close to campus, practically on the grounds of it considering where he had turned in the thief.

The person in front of you had a Reddit post pulled up, and you had to bite your cheek to refrain from laughing as you read the title. Spider boy or whatever is totally a UA student. Here’s my proof!!!!

Finding the professor’s lecture increasingly dry and dull, you decided to pull up the Reddit tab on your own laptop so you could read it, too.

By the time the lecture was over you had read the entire post (it was surprisingly long) and all of the comments underneath it, half-convinced of the theory yourself. It made some reasonable arguments—Spider-Man stuck to the surrounding city, usually went around at night, rarely seen throughout the day—keeping with the schedule of a college student. Sticking to the surrounding city pointed to the fact that he lived near campus. And the latest crime he’d solved was the cherry on top, because the alerts about it had gone out to all campus members since the incidents were contained to the campus.

The dull lecture came with dull readings, which you idly flipped through later that night. It was nearing 1 am, but sleep had not yet found you, and even the reading was not putting you to sleep.

You must’ve dozed off on your tiny kitchen table, Moony curled up on the chair next to you, because her surprised meow and the sound of a door closing close by woke you up a few hours later. Your phone lit up with an email notification (professors were truly unhinged with their work hours) and you were able to see the time without lifting your head up from the table. 4 am.

The door that had closed and woken you and Moony up had been Midoriya’s, you realized even in your half-asleep state. Occasionally the sound would wake you up, but you never minded it much and usually rolled over and fell back asleep.

This time you had to drag yourself over to your bed, and you could vaguely hear Midoriya moving around next door. What business he had this early in the morning you never knew. He seemed pretty normal, and you always assumed he was fond of late library study sessions. Even if it was not exactly exam season. But then again, he was a biochem major, you mused.

You fell asleep wondering about this and woke up five hours later to the sound of your blaring alarm. It snapped you awake, enough to hear a thud from next door. Did Midoriya fall out of bed?

The day passed as usual. You went to class, took half-hearted notes (it was hard to focus at this point in the semester—everyone was already burnt out) came home and ate dinner with Moony, and cuddled up on the couch together to do your readings.

This time you were ready to pass out outside of the warm embrace of your bed, so you’d done your nightly routine and brought over blankets to the couch, ready for sleep to come whenever it was ready.

The sound that woke you up this time was much louder. And Moony hissed.

She never hissed.

You froze from your curled-up position on the couch, eyes still heavy with sleep and senses scrambling to catch up with your brain and racing heart. The coffee table was right across from you, and by some miracle, you’d been sipping on a lemonade earlier—one in a glass bottle.

As swiftly as you could, you untangled yourself from the blankets and grabbed the lemonade bottle, wielding it in front of you like a sword.

It slipped from your grasp when you saw who was standing in front of you, next to your open window you always kept closed, scared Moony would climb out.

As if on reflex, as if he expected you to drop your weapon, Spider-Man shot a web just as it slipped from your fingers, catching it in his hands before you could even register you had dropped it.

Moony, who had been very annoyed at being woken up just a minute ago, was now rubbing her head on his shins affectionately.

“Moony,” you whispered. “Get away from him.”

“It’s okay!” Spider-Man said, mirroring your whisper. “I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then why did you break into my apartment?” You looked around for your phone, or another potential weapon. Instead, your gaze found the small digital clock you kept on a shelf near the door, the bright green numbers clearing away the fogginess of sleep.

It was 4am.

You could not help the gasp that escaped you.

“Midoriya?”

The effect was instantaneous. Spider-Man’s entire body language changed, that much you could tell, even in the dark. He took a step away from you, back toward the window, shoulders tense.

“What?” he said. Trying hard to keep his voice steady, even deepening it a little. But you knew it was him.

“Did you think this was your apartment?” You were connecting the dots now. “This is why you always come back so late.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, inching towards the window. “I just got a little lost. Thought this place was empty.”

“You’re bleeding,” you said, pointing at the gash in his arm as though he had not noticed it himself. “Why’re you bleeding?”

Moony meowed, as though echoing your question. She was still close to him, and leaned forward to rub her head against his shin again.

This seemed to break him—his shoulders drooped and he let out a long exhale. He reached up and pulled the mask off, and you gasped again.

The left side of his face was covered in bruises, his eye starting to swell a bit. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, glancing down at Moony.

“Smart cat. She recognized me.” You winced and instinctively moved toward him when he tried to smile and grimaced at the action.

“Sit down, please,” you said, remembering to speak quietly. “You can’t die in my apartment. You can’t.”

“I won’t,” he said, letting you manhandle him into sitting on the couch. “Promise.”

“If you thought this was your apartment you’re definitely concussed,” you said, reaching up to move his curls aside, careful not to touch his face. The bruises covered his entire left side, also the side his arm was bleeding. “What happened to you?”

You snatched your hand away when he realized he was frozen, eyes to the side where your hand was.

“I got thrown into a wall,” he said, smiling again. A smaller grimace this time. “I’m really sorry.”

“You’re sorry for being thrown into a wall?” You shuffled to the kitchen to grab the tiny first aid kit you kept there. It was dusty and unused and consisted mainly of bandaids, something you started laughing at a little hysterically as you opened it on the couch, in between you and Midoriya. He’d leaned back onto the couch, breathing evened out. He was lying so still you thought he was sleeping, until he turned his head to see what you were laughing at.

“I only have bandaids,” you said, still laughing a little. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, I didn’t mean…” he started laughing. Quietly, then a little louder until you were both giggling and suppressing loud laughs.

“It’s okay,” he said, catching his breath again. “Can you help me get to my place? I’m used to patching myself up.”

It took five minutes, but eventually, you both managed to get out your front door, coaxing Moony to stay inside. Midoriya had one of his arms draped around your shoulder, keeping him upright. He had reassured you plenty of times as you both shuffled out the door that he was fine, he had been through worse. Which only made you feel worse.

His apartment was the exact same layout as yours, though a little messier, which he apologized for. There were notes all over his kitchen table, his couch was covered in blankets. You had a feeling he was prone to falling asleep all over his apartment like you did.

“Thank you,” he said once he had settled down on his couch. “I’m really sorry, again.”

“I know,” you said, sitting down beside him. You stared at the clock directly across from you, above his small TV. “I’m sorry for figuring out who you are.”

Another small laugh from him. “S’okay.” he shifted to look at you, and you mirrored him. It would have felt awkward being this close to someone you knew more in passing a day ago, but you felt as though this entire experience had automatically made the two of you friends. A trauma bond, of sorts. “You won’t tell anyone?”

You smiled back at him. “Promise.”

You didn’t remember getting back to your apartment, only that it took a lot of convincing on Midoriya’s part. The second you woke up (on your couch) you rushed to get out the door and knock on Midoriya’s until he opened, if anything to confirm you had not dreamed anything that had happened. But before you could get your slippers on, you saw a small note on the floor in front of the door.

Two spiders drawn holding hands, with “friends?” written underneath.

You slid it back under his door with your own addition — a drawing of a cat and “friends” written underneath his question.

——— * * * ———

“Trauma bond?”

“Yeah,” you said, shoving at his shoulder and ignoring his fake wince. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” he agreed, petting a meowing Moony in his lap. He was frowning down at her, and you had been around him long enough to know something was wrong.

It had been over a month since the break-in incident (which Midoriya was still apologizing for) and you had grown used to each other’s company. It had started off small—seeing him in the library during the day, studying quietly next to him. Stifling your laughter when he slid a spider doodle across the table to you.

After that, you noticed him around campus more often. You had always greeted him when he crossed your path, stopping to make small talk. But now you actually talked about things of substance. Setting up study sessions, inviting him over to play with Moony, exchanging recipes and even starting to cook at each other’s apartments.

“Is my pasta not good?” you said. Moony meowed, echoing your question from his lap.

“It could use some pepper,” he said, smiling teasingly at you. “No, it’s good. Just a rough night.”

“Wanna talk about it?” you said.

“S’okay,” he said. “We’re trauma bonded enough.” You felt a pang of guilt at the sadness in his tone.

“Midoriya—”

“Thank you for the pasta,” he said. “I can help with the dishes.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “You know we’re friends friends, right?”

He nodded. “I’m messing with you.”

“You little shit!” he laughed as you set your dishes down in the sink, shoving him slightly. He smiled slyly at you. He seemed like the perfect boy next door, but he was really a little shit. And he was the perfect boy next door.

“I haven’t heard you come back late in a while,” you said. He turned to look at you from his place at the sink, eyebrows raised.

“You wait up for me?”

“No!” you said indiginantly. “It just used to wake us up.”

“Really? I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” you said. “But you have to wake me up if you’re hurt really bad, okay? Even if it’s just to sit with you.”

A small noise of acknowledgement from Midoriya.

“What was that?”

“Promise.”

Satisfied, you got up from your place at the table, letting him finish up the dishes. “Are you going out tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry in advance about the early morning wake up call.”

He still would not tell you where he went. But the news reports the next day served as the answers to your questions. A crime solved here, a criminal turned in there. The Spider-Man news page, ran by dedicated fans, was bookmarked on your computer and one of your most visited tabs. On nights when you couldn’t sleep and didn’t know where he was, you would refresh it every few minutes, waiting for an update.

Sometimes he would go during the day, and when you would get back from class he would be there on your couch with Moony, napping. You would sit on the opposite end and wait for him to wake up, then decide on what to make for lunch together. Not talking about the new bruise on his arm or the new cut on his leg. If he brought it up you knew it was okay to talk about it, but usually you both talked about normal topics. Avoiding the giant spider in the room.

“All done!” he said, falling down on the couch beside you. Reaching to pet Moony, who was cuddled up on your lap. Arm muscles flexing, hands softly running through Moony’s fur. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore how jacked he was. Especially when he was literally always stripping in your apartment, changing from his suit into his regular clothes. Letting you sneak glances at his back, his chest.

“Take a nap,” you blurted. “If you’re going to be out tonight. You need to rest.”

“I will,” he said, smiling up at you. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not!” you said, huffing. “You better not visit me tonight. I expect you to kick ass and come back with no injuries.”

“‘Kay,” he said. “See you tomorrow?” You nodded and watched him dramatically sigh, throwing his head back on the couch before getting up and shuffling to the door.

The rest of your evening was spent anxiously trying to distract yourself. There was a nagging feeling in the back of your head, in the pit of your stomach. After finishing your homework and realizing it was hours before your usual bedtime, you cleaned your apartment. Reorganized, moved things around.

You decided to settle on the couch for the night. Better place to hear Midoriya come back.

The sound that jolted you awake a couple hours later was louder than usual, and it woke you up quicker. A quick glance at your clock let you know it was only 1am.

“Midoriya?” you said quietly, sitting up. “You okay?”

He was standing near your window, at almost the exact same spot as a month before, when he had first broken in.

“No,” he said. Voice hoarse and almost too quiet for you to hear.

You were up and leading him over to the couch in an instant. His mask was already off, clutched in between his fingers

“Are you hurt?” you said, patting down his arms and running your fingers over his face softly, scared to touch a bruise or aggravate a cut. A shake of his head.

You gently took the mask from him, setting it down on the coffee table with one hand, the other gripping his hands tightly. “Want to talk about it?”

He nodded, squeezing your hands back. “Later.”

“Okay,” you said, scooting closer to him on the couch so your shoulders pressed together. “I’m here, okay? It’s okay.”

You were ready when his shoulders started shaking and he slid into your hug, staining your shirt with his tears. You ran your hands through his hair, rubbing your fingers along the nape of his neck. Repeating the phrase over and over until it felt like you were trying to convince yourself of the same thing.

The bruises were on his side this time—no cuts deep enough to warrant him going back to his apartment to patch himself up. You helped him get his suit off slowly. The tears hadn’t stopped, and yours had started fifteen minutes after his. It hurt to see him like this and not know how to help. Knowing all you could do was help him get back to his apartment and keep his secret.

“Can I stay?” he said. He was holding the top half of his suit to his chest, hugging it.

“Yeah, course you can,” you said. “I’ll get you some clothes.”

Moony walked out of your room with an annoyed meow. She had been sleeping, but once she spotted Midoriya she happily sauntered over, already purring.

Once he had changed into the clothes his eyes started to droop, and you started convincing him to sleep in your room. He kept shaking his head, until he finally told you, “Don’t want to be alone.”

“Okay, I’ll stay with you,” you said. Slipped out so easily you had no time to realize you had said it until he nodded and you were walking into your room and settling under the covers, Midoriya turning to face you, lashes wet with tears.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, reaching to intertwine your fingers with his. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

He blinked slowly at you, sleep making his eyes heavy. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

masterlist

#midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x you #mha x reader #bnha x you #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x you #deku x reader #midoriya izuku x oc #spiderman deku #bnha fanfiction #spiderdeku

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uva124 · 3 months

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So yeah, I finished the drawing of Asha's redesign from Wish :D, maybe I'll make some changes in the future, but I'm happy to have finished it, it should be noted that I haven't seen the movie. , so I can't give my opinion on it yet, but I found it very interesting that their fandom is mainly made up of people who rewrote or made their own version of the movie, they are all very creative and it got me out of an artistic block. that I had a few months ago, but above all I found the rewriting of @annymation which is the one I have been most hooked on, so I wanted to do some redesigns of the characters coming out of its rewriting, that's why everything that has to do with the story of this version of Asha, as well as her personality and her world on which I base my drawing are the ideas and work of this account: @annymation

I'm just making a drawing of her character and how I would design her as well as sharing part of the process I had to do to draw her because, why not?

BOARD:

The first thing I had to do was put together a table full of references that reminded me of the character and things that I would like to add to her design, so I used milanote to do it:

-Looked for some Asha's concept art and save the ones I liked the most, and add the main colors that I used in the design. -I also created notes to write down the personality of the character and some of his data to have a better guide, I did a little research and found publications that talked a lot about Asha's discarded designs and how Disney workers had put that she had tribe ancestry Amazigh on his mother's side and since his father was from the Iberian Peninsula, that's why the next thing I wanted to do is research more about their culture. -I am not an expert on this topic, nor do I belong to the cultures from which Asha has ancestry, so you can comment on any correction regarding this topic, I wanted to implement details of this culture to her design and I would really like to give a correct representation :)

HAIRSTYLE

Continuing with the theme, I saw that the hairstyles in the Amazigh culture mostly had this type of colorful decorations on their braids and dreadlocks, that's why I also posted these reference photos for Asha's hairstyle.

-Finally I decided that Asha would not have all her hair full of braids or dreadlocks, but only a few accompanied by these decorations with a great variation of colors, although it was fun to sketch the many hairstyle options that I had in mind based on these concept art and other photos that I had saved

TATTOOS:

-Another detail that I liked was giving Asha some tattoos with designs from the Amazigh culture, because I saw that it was quite common for women to get them, the tattoo on her forehead is a symbol of protection against bad influences, that's why the The middle symbol is responsible for deflecting it in the 4 directions, I also added a similar one in Asha's right hand.

ASTROLOGY AND THE SPACE:

-An important part of Asha's rewrite is her knowledge of astronomy inherited from her father, especially with the stars for obvious reasons xd, so in addition to adding constellations to her dresses, research the meaning (or something like that) of the planets. Only 3 really reminded me of the character, which were: -Mars: Symbolization of the internal conquering function of moving forward, independent, self-determined, enduring failures with new energy, courage and energy to fight for your desires. -Saturn: Maturity, effort to solidly build realistic criteria, frustrations are transformed into objectives to continue growing, critical and realistic, far from getting frustrated when an objective does not work, you strive to move forward and obtain even more resistant and solid achievements, perseverance , and tenacity (I feel like yhis it the most similar to Asha :D) -Moon: protective role, feeling very vulnerable outside your known areas, feeling of security with your ties, importance of family ties. The one that reminded me the most of Asha was Saturn, that's why I drew those Saturn-shaped earrings :).

SUITS:

I looked for references and placed some on milanote, I noticed that the concept art was mainly divided into whether the dresses have lilac colors or warm colors, I decided to draw 2 models based on the discarded designs, although at first I thought of using only one color palette lilac and bluish, I realized that the reddish colors of her dress reminded me of Mars which has certain meanings that in my opinion coincide with Asha's personality. In the end I didn't decide what wardrobe she would primarily have 😅, but I like to think that in this version of Wish, Asha would have wardrobe and hairstyle changes like in some older Disney movies.

-These are some of the concepts that I mainly used for my version of the dresses

FINAL COMMENTS:

I am satisfied with the result, it was fun to make all this, although what I researched mostly seems little, it actually cost me several hours and I did it at night, so as a funny fact the next day I was explaining all this information to my mother and I felt like I looked like that:

(Make this drawing was so funny LMAO)

(Apologies if there are errors in my writing, English is not my first language and my writing is very basic)

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artfulbassoon · 9 months

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Dipping my toes back into gemcyt for a sec so I could do a real quick sketch for a Fairy Fort fusion

I was going also going to do a Shadow Alliance fusion (Lizzie, Ren, BigB, and Martyn) to go with it, but perhaps another day 👀

General Story/Design Ideas Under the Cut:

This place is then known as: The Fairy Circle [The Garden]

Design:

It was really hard finding a stone that I thought would fit. I eventually found the anyolite (ruby in zoisite) and decided to remove the ruby. Originally, their color palette was leaning more Alexandrite, but that's already a fusion in SU canon and I don't want to mess with that too much.

Overall, I was thinking along the lines of a fairy knight, a forest guardian of sorts. The cape and fur collar are meant to resemble a moth and the horns from Cleo are formed to look closer to antlers.

Story:

After the events of pseudo-3rd Life, Lizzie, Ren, BigB, and Cleo find themselves separated from the other gems and are unable to reconnect. Finding it more safe for themselves to stay put and wait for an eventual rescue, they create a sort of safe haven/nature reserve where they spend most of their time generally tending to the wildlife.

During their time in the Garden, Lizzie and Ren learned to better understand each other and began to grow closer. From their disdain of the other Diamonds and the structure of Homeworld to their respective missing halves, the Garden has done wonders in allowing them to see eye to eye. Accompanying their respect for each other is a fondness that wasn't quite there before, as their bond has led to an almost codependent friendship.

On the other end, Cleo and BigB are just generally polite with one another and are mostly amicable. They understand that they must all stick together if they are to find their lost companions, but neither have particularly latched onto the other with that same desperation that Lizzie and Ren have.

Something or other happens (most likely an argument where Cleo wants to leave and conduct a search of her own and the others don't) and BigB ends up poofing Cleo. Her gem is damaged heavily in the altercation and when she reforms, she is furious. The betrayal leads to Cleo essentially destroying The Garden and leaving on her own to find the others.

#gemcyt #ldshadowlady #bigb #bigbst4tz2 #rendog #renthedog #zombiecleo #zoisite fusion #craig art

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see-arcane · 10 months

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“You know,” Dracula hums by the fireplace, the flames a shade dimmer than his own eyes. “I do believe I am becoming paranoid in my old age. Yet I keep my things in such precarious order, all things where they must be.” A log pops. His eyes flash. “Where they should be. And so I have noticed that my own bedroom was disturbed during the day.”

“Oh?” Voice level, Jonathan. Voice steady, Jonathan. Surprise. Concern. “How so? I was under the impression the door was locked.”

“So it was. And yet, I can tell something was...” His nails drum on the mantel, the click of claws, “...different. Meddled with somehow.”

Something between foolishness, sleeplessness, and a smoldering kernel of ire sparks in Jonathan’s chest. Its embers travel up to his tongue.

“Nothing was stolen, I hope. I admit I had a mild scare some time ago, when I realized I couldn’t find certain things in my luggage. Only it occurred to me that your servants must have already taken them away to clean and hold aside for my departure.” A smile so easy it borders on suicidal curls on his face. It feels like a rictus. Maybe it will see him dead right then. “The people here are the most discreet I’ve ever encountered.”

Dracula raises a snowy brow.

“That they are. As discreet as spiders minding their web.” Then, a sudden swerve out of the growing cloud. He oozes mirth. “Have you seen any here, my friend? Spiders?”

“None.” He hadn’t. Dust, motheaten holes, but no spiders.

“That is because of my people as well. More, it is the work of local aid.” His grin has too many teeth. “The bats quite love them. Whenever I or my servants come across a spider indoors, we save it for them. All those that would dare to come crawling along the outer walls?” He snaps his fingers. “They are eaten before they can spin their first thread. It is a most lucrative exchange.”

Jonathan fights not to swallow, not to acknowledge the cold twisting in his stomach.

“I’m certain.”

“A hypothetical question for you. Which would you rather be, my friend? Of the two, I mean.” Dracula’s hand is on him again, itself a titanic white spider. Cold and immovable from his shoulder. It squeezes just short of bruising. “A spider or a bat?”

“I wouldn’t know, Count. Neither is the best choice."

“No?”

The hand is tighter.

“No.” Under the table, Jonathan crosses his fingers. “The best choice is a cat.”

The grip lightens and amusement sketches a change in the Count’s expression.

“Why a cat?”

“They can get away with much more,” Jonathan’s traitor tongue flies. He bites it. “If only for the fact of their comparative harmlessness as they serve their masters as they entertain and accompany. This, while it provides a more handy service in hunting pests of all sorts, be it spider and bat or beetle and rat. In exchange for doing the dual work of tending to the home and being pleasant and defenseless, the more powerful keeper ensures they’re housed and,” he gulps down glass, hot coals, acid, “and loved. A cat can only do so much, but it does just enough.”

Dracula shakes his head.

“Enough to get themselves in trouble, perhaps. No, my friend, if we must leave the smaller creatures behind, I must say a wolf is the better choice. He eats all in his path and has no master at all.” The cold hand gives another squeeze, the nails dimpling cloth and skin...then relaxes. Strokes. “But cats have their place as well. If kept in their proper place...”

The night goes on in this way for endless hours. And still Jonathan’s fingers are crossed out of sight. He has a fondness for cats. Even for spiders. He appreciates all creatures who take it upon themselves to hunt and cull those things that infest or take lives by little bites. But more than either, he has always had a fondness and fealty to dogs.

As the moon drags itself slowly across the sky, he imagines he hears their barking and baying meeting the wild cry of the wolves, and shepherd teeth sinking deep into bloodthirsty throats.

#in which there are animal motifs #jonathan harker #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily #my writing

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ot9snumber1 · 4 months

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craving

son chaeyoung x reader

summary: you never understood why chaeyoung refused to show you her sketches until you find her sketchbook on your desk. warnings: smut, thigh riding, fingering, degradation, perv!chaeng notes: let's pretend this hasn't been in my drafts for months... dedicated to my favorite @nr1chaedickrider <3

———

"wait for me, chaengie! i just need to grab my keys!" you yell at chaeyoung, who was already halfway through the front door by the time you dash back to your shared room.

a loud groan can be heard, and you only chuckle at the response. you nearly burst into the room, but you don't rush to find your keys.

you think to yourself, why the hell did i take them up here when there's a place for it downstairs...? but there's no time to have thoughts when your roommate is already yelling at you to hurry.

"y/n! come on!" you hear, imagining chaeyoung's pout accompanying her whiny voice. "you promised me we'd be early tonight!"

you scoff, poking around a little bit faster around your desk. your eyes eventually land on the keys, and you whisper a little hell yeah! as you pick them up.

you're about to go back down, until you see the sketchbook your keys were previously on top of. it was chaeyoung's, for sure. you were aware that she's an artist, but you never really get to see her art.

chaeyoung didn't like showing her art. to you.

her friends have talked about her art a lot, even showcasing different shirts and knickknacks that chaeyoung had designed for them. it always made you feel a bit jealous, why is chaeyoung so protective of her art around you?

it was wrong to look at someone else's sketchbook without permission... but you've been chaeyoung's roommate for two years and been her friend for even longer, you feel like you deserve even a glimpse into her artistic mind.

you flip through the pages carefully and your jaw drops. her art is beautiful! why had she been gatekeeping it this whole time? the whole world deserved to—

oh!

you're being dramatic. drawing naked figures are completely normal! chaeyoung's just studying anatomy for sure. sometimes studying the human body requires putting them in provocative positions, of course.

...

she really likes anatomy, huh? you don't even know how she comes up with the positions the figures are in, you haven't seen her bring a girl home in forever! you chuckle at your own thoughts to ease nonexistent tension.

...

okay, maybe it's a little weird how the drawings are starting to look a bit too familiar. you try to convince yourself it's just chaeyoung improving as time goes on, but your eyes can't help but notice that you and the figures are starting to share the same hairstyle, same body type, eye color, facial features, even down to the body hair?

you also can't ignore the elephant in the room. those hands. there are two pairs of hands accompanying each figure, always groping their tits or fingering them or choking them or—

was chaeyoung really drawing you?

you decide to just forget about it. maybe you were seeing things? still, you felt weird about it, and maybe a bit turned on by the fact your roommate had a very vivid imagination.

you close the sketchbook with a long sigh, turning to leave but freezing when you see chaeyoung in the doorway. she looks just as surprised as you, color drained from her face.

the two of you just stare at each other.

"did.. did you get the keys?"

"were those drawings of me?"

you ask at the same time, and chaeyoung feels lightheaded. you were never meant to see that sketchbook! she doesn't even know when she left it on your desk.

neither of you speak for a moment. you were waiting for her response, not letting her get away from this scot-free.

chaeyoung wanted to lie, to forget about this and move on. but where was the fun in that? it's not like you slapped her in the face for obviously drawing you being fucked over and over again.

"so what if they were?" chaeyoung says confidently, crossing her arms. "why, you liked them?"

you pause, taking your time to actually think about what you felt. it was definitely weird and maybe creepy that she was drawing you naked. on the other hand, it meant she'd been thinking about putting you in those positions.

you must have been taking too long to think, because chaeyoung takes your blush as a sign and traps you against your desk. she leans in close to whisper, "you wouldn't mind skipping the movie and staying home to help me draw, right?"

you felt unsure, so you just shook your head. chaeyoung frowns, "aw, come on. i'm sure momo and jihyo wouldn't mind watching without us."

"plus, we were going to be late anyway."

"i thought you wanted to impress jihyo?"

you both stare at each other again. chaeyoung's eyes were dark, it made you uneasy and horny at the same time. "i've got more important things to be doing than impressing her now."

you raise an eyebrow. "me?"

chaeyoung blushes, her 'cool' act dropping immediately. "...yeah." she nods shyly. you chuckle, she was being incredibly adorable—but it wasn't what you wanted from her.

"only if you recreate what i saw." you whisper, bravely putting your finger under her chin to make her face you. chaeyoung's smile grows, the lustful glint in her eyes returning.

"i can do that."

—

you're gagging on two of chaeyoung's fingers as she presses her clothed thigh against your bare pussy. "you look so pretty, all slutty for me." chaeyoung chuckles when she sees your arms jerk as your wrists strained against the cloth she tied behind your back. "you'll tire yourself if you keep doing that." she hums, making you huff.

you desperately wanted to tug at her hair, leave scratches on her back, anything—but she decided that you were being a brat prevented you from doing so. if you weren't desperate for your release, you would've protested her decision entirely.

the way she bit her lip as she looked you up and down got you even more wet—you were sure her jeans were ruined by now. your movements grew erratic, nearly putting chaeyoung in a trance.

"god, you're such a whore. you don't even care that i've been drawing you while you slept." she snickers, removing her fingers from your mouth. all you could reply with was a moan.

maybe you should care. but does it matter when she replaces her thigh with the fingers you were choking on seconds ago? not really.

the ring on her finger brushing against your folds made you wince. the cool metal feeling so delicious against your wet heat. "fuck—fuck, don't stop." you beg, making chaeyoung chuckle.

"so needy." she mumbles, her fingers working in and out of you at a quick pace. the sharp gasp you let out when she pinches your nipple combined with the lewd sounds of your cunt made her own underwear damp.

"and so cute." chaeyoung adds, pulling your shirt all the way up and making you bite down on it to keep it there. "you like it, don't you? the fact i've been spying on you?"

you nod, almost looking pathetic in your roommate's eyes. chaeyoung's grin grows as she curls her fingers in you and makes you scream. "don't worry, baby. i won't stop anytime soon."

the way your thighs closed around her wrist as you came all over her hand gave her the biggest smile. "what a good girl." she coos, kissing you as she helped you come down from your high.

you ended up calling jihyo to tell her you couldn't make it. the reason she heard was that chaeyoung got sick suddenly.

sick with lust, maybe. the way chaeyoung had you bent over your desk confirmed that neither of you would be stepping foot outside of this room for a long while.

#son chaeyoung x reader #chaeyoung x reader #twice x reader #twice fic #twice fanfic #twice smut #twice imagines #son chaeyoung imagines

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vilebird · 9 days

Text

BOTH TOO MUCH AND NOT ENOUGH

1) "I have been found wanting, Natalie thought; I have made myself unacceptable and am not worthy." - hangsaman, by shirley jackson

2) text: "meat must be beaten brutal into tenderness, that any body softens with violence, she grinds salt into the carcass, like a wound, a memory". image: a carcass of beef, cleaned, with the ribs on prominent display, painted in oils and rendered in thick strokes of red, orange, tan and white, on a plain dark red background. the text is cutouts on top, dark red text on light tan. - Family Portrait as Unfinished Meal, by Torrin A. Greathouse and Le Bœuf by Chaim Soutine. collage put together by @invisiblemonstrosity

3) a pale hand crushing ripe red strawberries, green leaves still attached, on a plain white background. - apparently by ouiloved on flickr, but they seem to have deleted.

4) bust photo of a tan person with a spotlight on them outside in the dark, head turned down, shoulder length messy wet black hair obscuring their face. their hand is raised to their chest and they are wearing a white tank top. fake blood is splattered and wiped around their chest and mouth. - i can't actually find this one all my attempts lead back to unsourced tumblr posts if you know where its from. help me

5: "You have no one who has any sort of consideration for you. You have had patience and endurance, and what have they done for you? Half-killed you." - carlyle’s house and other sketches, by virginia woolf

6: "try your whole life to be righteous and be good, wind up on your own floor, choking on blood" - sept 15th 1983, by the mountain goats

7: "such a waste of a girl, such rumination. i am obsessive. i contain nothing but the replay. i am blood and blood and replay. i am please don't go." - i put the coffin out to sea, by lisa marie basile

8: an image of a partially bald baby bird begging for food, drawn in the desaturated greens and black of a trailcam, on top, the text reads "i am asking you for something i need", on bottom, the text reads "why is it so hard to give it to me?" - trailcam baby, by @quezify

9: "was i raised without love? / or was i born unloveable?" - @psychwarded

10: "I, in my corner, with my monstrous needs." - As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh, susan sontag

11: "oh, i know that i'm not whole, and sometimes feel the flies swarming, like much of me is rotten." - roadkill ode, chad abushanab

12: a photo of a cut tree where much of the centre is rotted from fungus, accompanied by the text: "heart rot in pine. heart rot is the softening of a pine trees resinous heartwood, caused by an in-dwelling fungus. not all pines have it, but those that do make the excavation of a tree-hole next cavity easier for the red-cockaded woodpecker."

13: "rot made a home inside my body." - i know it's from "bloat" but cant find the authors name again. i think it starts with a c?

14: photo of an abandoned house in shades of brown and beige and orange, the walls are wet and scuffed and the drywall has been torn open in places, exposing the old lath. - abandoned, by @jaggedplains

15: photo of a mouldy strawberry, fading from bright red to grey-green fluff - Strawberry Gray Mold disease stock photo, by MediaProduction on gettyimages

16: "you ever feel like you were born with something rotten inside you and if people get close enough they're gonna find out" - tumblr post by @twoheadedfawnn

17: "we are meat, we are potential carcasses,' he once said. 'if i go into a butcher's shop i always think it is surprising that i wasn't there instead of the animal." - francis bacon

18: "you dangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth." - speeches for dr frankenstein, by margaret atwood

19: photo of a python hanging off a roof coiled around a black and white bird, poised to eat it - i heard some noise on the roof this morning, by candycane7 on reddit

20: "all that matters is that you want to hurt me. all that matters is that you want me." - when rome falls, by yves olade

21: "god told me i was forgiven and then he split me open" - god is made of hunger and i am made of dreams, by katie maria

22: "but this is not about love. once a pig is hung and cut straight, cut from rectum to neck, step inside her death like it is a room: that is how to touch her now. the lord said, you must not eat their meat or touch their carcasses. then came the end of the rib." - oh let's just be hogs, by gregory emilio

23: photo of a strawberry cut in half with its leaves attached. it is bright red, steel knife wet. the background is bright white and plain. - cut strawberry by liz west on flickr

24: photo of a handmade cloth sculpture of a dead autopsied pigeon, red zipper like an incision opening to its empty red interior, small cloth and thread organs arranged around it. - pandora: city pigeon, by jessica bartram

25: '"u need a therapist" actually i need to be euthanized' - tumblr post by deactivated user @122mg

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justwritingscenarios · 9 months

Note

Welcome back, hope you're doing well!! I would like to request scenario 13 with Law!

Tysm and hope you have a nice day/night <3

Hi! I'm so happy to write about my hubby after such a long time. Sorry about the delay ! I hope it was what you wanted to read ! - Lara

Scenario 4 : having to share a bed and accidentally end up cuddling

Law x GN!Reader // Words : 1.7K // No warnings (no beta reader).

Ever since you joined the Strawhats, it was the first time the crew divided. Sure, everyone was separated for two years, but it was forced by Kuma initially. Here Luffy was taking half the crew with him to Whole Cake Island to bring back Sanji from Big Mom’s hold. You wished you could have gone with them, but you had followed Zoro – as he was the second in charge – on Trafalgar's "ship".

You wouldn’t say you disliked the idea. The Polar Tang was impressive, and you had been curious to visit it. However, what you preferred the most about the underwater trip to Wano was to see more of Trafalgar Law.

Since you met him on Punk Hazard, where he asked Luffy to be his ally, your eyes were attracted by him whenever he was around. To your great despair Robin and Nami had noticed. And to your great relief none of them messed with you. Except maybe that time Robin entrusted Law’s safety to you when she had to fight against Gladius in Dressrosa. But she didn’t let you alone with him, Cavendish was there as well, even if you were the one patching up Law. The man was riddled with bullets and had an arm cut off from his fight with Doflamingo, you couldn’t do much but stopped the haemorrhage. You were so aware of Law’s state of health that you didn’t complain once about your own injuries. Even when Leo and later Manshelly had helped him getting better, you didn’t leave his side. He didn’t grumble about it though. And you knew he acknowledged your presence from the beginning of your shared adventures.

Law worked with Chopper and you back in Punk Hazard’s lab. You even had talks and played cards on the Sunny on your way to Dressrosa. After that you helped him change his bandages when you were sailing to Zou under Bartolomeo’s flag. You went along together.

You had many times the opportunities to look at Law closely. Yet you never found him as attractive as you did the moment you got to see him moving around his submarine, surrounded by his crewmates. Around his friends, he smiles. Not smirk, smile. You swore his shoulders loosen, and his eyes hold a certain tenderness as he listens to their stories. Once you saw him snort before quickly hid under the visor of his furry hat. You often thought about it, to the extent of being lost in your mind.

“(Name), we-“ You were in the empty dining hall, sketching a duck on a napkin when Bepo’s voice surprised you.

“I didn’t hear you entering, Bepo.”

“… I’m sorry.” His whole body loosened. You patted his hand.

“Hey, don’t be sorry. I was lost in my thoughts, that’s why I didn’t hear you.” You offered him a bright smile and were happy to constate his fluffy ears went up again. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Oh yes! Captain said we’re going to emerge soon. He said that since you’re not used to stay in locked up places like us, you would appreciate to take a breath of fresh air before we reached Wano. That way, we’ll cool down the air in the sub too.”

“Thank you for telling me! Are the others aware of it?”

“Almost everyone knows. But we are still looking for Zoro.”

“Wasn’t he supposed to always be accompanied?”

“Yes, he was with the captain. Law talked to Hakugan for a minute and when he turned around Zoro had disappeared.”

“Rookie mistakes. Rule number 1: never let Zoro leave your sight.” The both of you laughed. “I’ll help you find him.”

A few minutes later, when Zoro was eventually found by Franky and Penguin in the engine room, the Polar Tang was emerged, and the main door was opened. Everybody came out to take a breath of fresh air. It was pleasant, especially for Bepo and not-Heart-crewmates. Law was right; you weren’t used to stay inside for so long, you were spending your whole days on the deck of the Sunny. You liked his initiative even more as at that time the sun was slowly getting low, the sky and the clouds getting warm colours. Most of you stayed outside talking and having a drink.

It’s been two hours since you surfaced. Most of the crewmates had come back inside and the sun had left its place to the moon. You hadn’t seen Law since getting out and the last time you saw Bepo, the polar bear was holding a blanket and a small tray to another place behind the main platform. You followed the way he took to the highest outside platform of the submarine.

There, were Law and Bepo. The big polar bear was laying on the floor, asleep. Law was leaning on the bear’s tummy. You guessed his legs to be crossed under the blanket. On the tray, the drink and the plate were empty, but a candle was still lightening Law’s reading. He either saw or heard you because he looked up.

“Hey.” You whispered.

“You can talk normally. Bepo has a deep sleep. You need something?”

“No I just- I noticed Bepo coming here earlier and wondered why he wasn’t coming back. Now I know.” The both of you looked at Bepo for a moment before you kept going. “I also wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

“For emerging. I know we are quite in a hurry to reach Wano and not that we couldn’t have waited a few more days to see the surface but… It feels good to be out for a few hours. I never appreciated the cold air of the night that much before.” You took a deep breath and looked around.

“Actually, we aren’t in a hurry. The sub moves faster than a ship and Luffy won’t be there before us so…” You nodded to his words; he was right. Your eyes fell on the book he had put opened on his knees, opened about the midway. That’s when you realised…

“Oh I’m sorry, I disturbed your reading-” “It’s ok.” “If you went there it was to be at peace after all-“ “I don’t mind.” “Do you want me to bring back the tray-“ “(Name)-ya.” “It doesn’t bother me to do it-“ “(Name)-ya!”

You eventually kept quiet when he called your name a bit louder to stop your stammering. For a second, you thought he was annoyed but neither his tone nor his look was. The small smile on his face only showed amusement.

“It’s true that I came here to read peacefully but I don’t mind your presence, ok? You can stay. I can even read to you if you want.” He showed you the book. It wasn’t a medical book like you first thought. You kneeled before him to read the title.

“Moby Dick. Or The Whale. I never thought you’d be interested in those kinds of stories.”

“Not my usual reading but I’ve wanted to for a long time. You read it?”

“I was supposed to read it for school when I was… 9? I lost the book and got reprimanded by my teacher. Found it in my cat’s litter later. Don’t ask me how it end up there. Just know that she refused to lend me books after that.” Law snorted the way you saw him do with his crewmates. It made you quivered a bit. Which he saw and misinterpreted it.

“Come here. You’ll get cold if you stay like this.” As he talked, he stretched out his legs and lifted the blanket so you could come under next to him. You were still hesitated that your body was already moving to come next to him under the fabric. “You can lean on Bepo, it won’t bother him.” You did slowly as he told you, unaware of his soft gaze on you.

“Can you sum up the beginning?”

“I can also read from the beginning.”

“What? No! You’ve come so far. I just want to hear you read.”

“Oh really? If that’s so. Can I at least start again from the beginning of the chapter?” Law turned his head in your direction, his teasing eyes looking for you. You had to look up a bit as he was still taller than you were even in that situation. You played his game and squinted your eyes. Of course, you didn’t mind… all you wanted was to listen to his voice.

“Ok as it’s you.”

“Well, thanks.” He turned back to his book and started reading. “Slowly wading through the meadows of brit, the Pequod still held on her way north-eastward towards the island of Java…”

You weren’t sure when but at some point, in the story, Law’s voice became a distant lullaby in your ears. He didn’t see it right away. He just checked on you while turning a page, like he did already numerous times before, except your eyes were closed this time. He set down the book on the side, his eyes never leaving your sleeping face half sunk in the white fur, just inches away from his.

When Law woke up, it was still early. The very first sunrays were started to lighten the sky even if the star wasn’t showing yet. The temperature was low, but he didn’t feel cold. The cover and Bepo’s body warmth greatly helped but you did to. You had moved enough that your head was resting on his upper chest, one of your hands grabbing his sweat with the blanket.

After watching you for a few minutes, wandering what he should do, he let his fingers touched your visible cheek and then your hand, not so far. It was warm, meaning that you weren’t cold either and could stay outside longer. Because the truth was, he didn’t want to move. He felt good. He wasn’t used to it, but he was comfortable. With your head on his chest, your hand on his side, with just you.

Law wasn’t sure how he will deal with you when you’ll wake up, what your reaction would be… for the moment, he just wanted to stay like this.

#one piece #scenarios #one piece imagine #trafalgar law #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law scenario #trafalgar law imagine #scenario 4 #trafalgar law scenario 4

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

Text

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — pretty + bkg.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff + sfw, reader knows how to draw, just general admiration of bakugou bc i love him, calling bkg pretty, implied friends to lovers,

“you’re so pretty.”

bakugou looks up from his wilfully and organised assignment papers, having easily swept through each short answer essay question— highlighting the important parts so he knows how to grasp the big marks.

“the fuck are you on about?” he grumbles, putting down his work to get a better look at your face.

you’ve long since abandoned the task at hand, having taken to doodling in the back of your hefty project book with a pencil that’s about the size of your thumb. “well,” you hum, tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. “i mean,” you hold the pencil up to katsuki’s face to align it— watching as the sun filters down on his golden lashes, as it illuminates the faint freckles he has in the shade of honey across his skin. the led of your pencil scratches across the page satisfyingly enough to make you not miss your sketch book and then you speak again. “you’re just really pretty, katsuki.”

he is, and you mean it.

a blonde eyebrow raises and bakugou scoffs, “now you’re just talking bullshit,” shifting his attention back to the work before him. “get back to work, you have deadlines at the end of the month—“

a heat washes through your body in slow waves, as if you’re a child who’s been told that they’re wrong. you’re not, you’ve never been more right. katsuki is beautiful but in ways that you can never say. you can’t seem to ever string together the correct the words to describe just how beautiful he is— not just physically either. katsuki has a heart of gold, he’s loyal to the death for the people he cares about, he’ll always go above and beyond for them.

“i don’t know how to explain it!” you huff abruptly, still carving out a work of art into your project book— still connecting the freckled dots on his face like constellations in the night sky. “you’re stunning katsuki, a person like you. perfectly imperfect, you should be a statistical anomaly,” heads positioned at other desks in the library whip around to hush your outburst and even the blonde before you makes embarrassed attempts to keep you quiet. “you’re kind, you’re pretty, i wish you could see yourself the way i do.”

“what? you got some sorta evidence of my beauty that i don’t know about?”

bakugou’s face crumples, wrinkling at his nose and lips downturned into a frown— and still he looks better than ever painting completed in the history of art. you sketch his expression down. beauty is in the eye of the beholder, sure, but it frustrates you to know that katsuki doesn’t think the same as you— doesn’t see himself as the centre of the universe and the panicle of all things to be loved because though flawed, he’s a wonderful human being. he’s bewildered by your passion to prove him wrong, but says nothing, going back to his work.

the both of you fall into a silence, accompanied by the sounds of katsuki’s highlighter being dragged across the page and your own pencil on lined paper— the lead smudged on your finger tips as you blend it out on the page.

if he didn’t believe your words, he’d have to believe your art— for he is a work of art himself.

“here,” you whisper, tearing out the page with a small doodle of the handsome blonde, care and attention put into every line— highlighting what you see, the truth about katsuki bakugou. “your evidence.”

for a second, bakugou blanks. he may not see the way you do, but he can tell from your simple and heartfelt drawing that you think the world of katsuki bakugou. that he’s important to you, means something to you. you’re gathering your things when he comes to this realisation— drawing clutched in one hand, the other darting out to grab your wrist.

your eyes meet, vermillion red eyes swirling with appreciation and gratitude— the emotions dancing between the dark brown flecks that line his eyes. “f’the record,” bakugou mumbles, thumbing the edge of the page where you’ve drawn him in his most natural and relaxed form. “i think you’re pretty too. in all the ways…just dunno how to explain it.”

when you laugh brightly, bakugou knows there’s no need for him to explain further— a warmth blossoming in his chest, knowing that he’s appreciated by the one person that matters most to him.

you.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugo x reader #this has been in my drafts since summer pls take it #bakugo fluff #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

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sapphic-gardn · 5 months

Text

i will

ellie williams x f!reader

summary: grief is complex and painful, ellie comforts you.

warnings: mentions of grief, nudity, ellie and reader take a bath together, mentions of boogers (yk when u have a runny nose from crying? yeah), no specific descriptions of reader other than having boobies and flesh, i dont think there is anything else but let me know!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi! i’ve returned from my hundred year long hiatus to torment you all. i started writing this comfort piece while i was experiencing life at Rock Bottom. i also found a lot of inspiration from the song i will by mitski <3 also thank you to @hier--soir for helping me with this one 💓 your writing inspires me, truly—i appreciate you tons & tons.

You find yourself curled up on the floor, the crisp breeze sweeping in from the crack under your front door. Chills dance over your skin, seeping into your body, coating your organs in a thin layer of ice. Your tears shed with a blue hue, painting your lips in a sheer lapis tint. Teeth chatter, bone against bone, reminders of the skeleton that is burrowed beneath layers of adipose tissue. Each exhale is accompanied by a dull ache.

Nights bring you here, disentangling your limbs from the warm confines of cotton sheets, calculated movements so as to not wake your girlfriend from slumber. The numbness creeps in through obscured dreams, visions of faces, now ghosts that haunt every distant memory. You emerge from the darkness, featherlight footsteps over creaky floors, loitering around the house amidst bewitching hours. You converse with the night sky, a one-sided interaction that mostly consists of your pleas—tell me why. Grief consumes you like tidal waves swallowing the shoreline. A mere particle of sand engulfed in foam, getting propelled further, further away from dry land.

The vibrations of Ellie’s bare feet padding on the wooden floor rumble through you. Her rasp breaks the silence. Baby—the only word that leaves her chapped lips, a pitiful tone leaking from her honeyed voice. Her hand caresses your tear stained cheek. Upon contact, a shrill sob rips through your larynx. You choke on anguish that rises like bile, it burns your esophagus as it creeps up.

Gentle hands guide your tenuous form to your feet, securing themselves at your sides. Subtle squeezes to the meat of your hips, wordlessly speaking—I’m here.

In your hazy state, you’re waltzed to the bathroom. One of Ellie’s hands fumbles with the light switch while she delicately maneuvers your entirety to sit upon the closed toilet seat. Cold porcelain hits the backs of your thighs, you hiss at the contact, a wince paints your expression. Ellie coos your name, a hushed thing that warms you from the inside. You study her features, a line forms between her furrowed brows, her green eyes searching for your own. Her gaze brings a settling feeling, something like a merciful wake up call. Ellie’s earthy scent mingles with the air. You inhale, the musky essence settles in your lungs, growing limbs and reaching for your heart; wrapping itself around the muscle in a tight embrace.

A tear slips past your waterline, her calloused thumb swiftly catches it as it trails down your cheek. A smile tugs at Ellie’s lips, “You’ve got boogers,” she gestures to your mucin coated upper lip with her pointer finger. An involuntary chortle escapes your mouth, alighting your saddened expression, “There she is, my pretty girl.”

Her focus shifts to the tub beside you, leaving the spot in front of you to turn the faucet on. Ellie peers over her shoulder to look back at you, “Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?”

Her digits fiddle with the running water as it warms, you examine the way her tendons tug at her knuckles, the freckled skin pulled taut with each swipe under the stream of water. Your eyes land on her side profile, you trace the shape of her nose and the protrusion of her pout like an etch a sketch to your brain. You count the freckles on her face, connecting them like constellations. Admiration blooms in your chest, you clutch your shirt where your heart beats faster.

Once the tub fills halfway, Ellie is undressing you—delicately tugging at the hem of your sleep shirt, pulling the thin material over the peaks and valleys of your body. Her touch is silken, it tickles your nerve endings, chills awaken beneath her fingertips. With each sliver of skin revealed, she whispers, beautiful, you’re so beautiful. And in these moments, you believe her, she utters the words with such conviction. You breathe with ease, allowing yourself to surrender to the woman disarming you.

She guides you towards the tub. Soft hands on your arm, your waist. That low, rasping voice in your ear, one foot, now the other… easy now, until you’re over the lip of the tub and being lowered into warm water. You let yourself sink a little lower, feel the water lap over your neck, your hair. You tilt your head back until everything is submerged except your face. Your eyes close, listening. You let the pressure of the water beat against your eardrums. Oceanic sounds bounce around inside your skull. For a split moment you are the sand and the sea, a shell burrowed in the earth.

When your eyes open, you meet the longing gaze of your partner. She admires the halo-shape your hair forms as it floats, the curve of your breasts breaking the surface, the way your tummy moves in waves with each steady inhale and exhale.

Your eyes wander to where Ellie is stepping out of her boxers, peeling her worn tank top over her auburn bed head, discarding the article in the tile. Her focus never falters from you. She looks so beautiful like this, the soft white light casting an illuminating glow to her supple skin. You sit up, folding your legs in, scooting forward—silent invitations. With two long strides, Ellie’s lanky limbs are climbing into the tub behind you. Your bodies mingle, arms and legs tangle and untangle, an uncoordinated tango.

Ellie surrounds you, she is everywhere. The warmth radiating from her coats every inch of your flesh like a blanket. Her thighs are pressed up against the sides of your own, caging you in, the physical security plucking away at your guardedness. Slippery arms snake around your middle, a vice grip pressing you against her front. You feel her heartbeat thump against your ribcage, feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. A connection so primal, so powerful, tethering you to her. Her lips graze the crook of your neck, a sigh escapes you, releasing the tension held in your abdomen. Taught muscles unfurl; a calmness washes over your senses.

Ellie begins to hum, short breaths tickling the shell of your ear. You recognize the song, familiar but just out of reach.

“What are you singing, baby?”

Ellie hushes you, “Shh, shh, just listen to me.”

Her gravelly tone recites the lyrics, “When all my hair turns grey, enter our twilight years,” you listen intently, the song bubbling at the forefront of your mind. A memory plays, placing a fragile disc in your record player, the needle spinning in its grooves, Ellie excitedly rehashing how she found it on patrol.

Both of you sat on the couch that night and tuned in, entwined and entranced. During the fourth song, Ellie stood, offering a hand—dance with me. And so, your bodies swayed around the living room as one entity. “And our friendships slip away, finding it hard to hear.”

Ellie memorized the lyrics, serenading you for weeks, “No I’ll never be afraid, as long as I still have you,” confessing her feelings through the Alessi Brothers.

And now, she croons the same song, “Together in an ocean of life / Just yours and mine / Motionless time / Love is the answer to eternal life.” Easing your mind, caroling the words that never come easy to her in conversation. Reminders of the fire you alight within her, the tenderness you pull out of her.

She is the breeze, the fierce wind that wrestles with the water. She reels you in from the deep end, a lifeline cast before you take your final breath. Her presence is a sanctuary, your vulnerability takes refuge in her arms—your safe haven.

[end]

a/n: hiii!! if you read this all the way through, thank you! it’s my first time posting an ellie fic so i’m a liiiitle nervous eeee! also im a little rusty on my writing so forgive me if this sucks 🧍🏽‍♀️ and i gave up on editing my last read through bc i need to get this fic out or i will never post it

i have an ellie series and a one shot planned out so hopefully it won’t take me a lifetime to post those!!! okieee byeeee 💓

tagging moots: @ilovepedro @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @daydreamingmiller @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @amanitacowboy (idk who else to tag i dont have an official taglist lol why is this so embarrassing)

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic #sapphic-gardn fics

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kivino · 5 months

Note

MORE ROOMMATE!SOAP PRETTY PLEASEEE!!!!!

ROOMMATE!SOAP HEADCANONS

my masterlist

Word counter - ~900 words

Tags/Warnings - pure fluff!

A/n - ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE ANON <33 i can't really post a complete fic rn because i'm working on another midterm essay so here y'all go! I also have another fic with Roommate!Soap planned out, so stay tuned sdkflskdfjs

You two met through his sister, you, being her college friend, visited her and her family during breaks many times, and that’s where you met Soap. You two were on pretty good terms, and he would sometimes call you when he or his family were not able to get ahold of his sister when she would go out to parties (usually accompanied by you). However, the two of you became roommates only later in the future, when he decided that he didn’t want to live with his family anymore, but leaving an apartment all empty for months on end would just be foolish. So that’s when he decided he needed someone to co-exist with, and you casually made your way into his life.

Whole Task Force 141 plus Laswell know about you, because of how homesick he gets sometimes! And you don't always respond to messages, you have your own life after all (plus, Soap knows you're not good with texting back, so he tries not to pressure you). However, unintentionally he starts to remember or mention you in unrelated conversations. And that's how everyone around him knows that it's time for him to go on his leave.

Not a lot of people are allowed to call him Johnny. He still gives his older sisters shit for calling him that sometimes. You and Ghost, however, are both allowed to do it. Not like his discontent would’ve stopped you though.

More often than not talks about you in a way that makes it appear like the two of you are together, with how he’s all smiles during these conversations. Describes you like he’s an infatuated teenager and then gets confused when someone assumes Soap is talking about his significant other. It's not that he is oblivious to his feelings, or a dumbass, of course not, it's that his feelings lasted for so long that it's very much normal to him and he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary with it.

The love language that you both share is bullying and insulting each other relentlessly. Soap is less harsh with his words, but you’re just merciless. Sometimes it also grows into play fights and roughhousing between you. Soap tries to be careful, because he knows that he’s stronger (he’s in the military, duh), but he still won’t go down without a fight. So he goes easy on you.

We know that Soap has a whole sketchbook, filled to the brim with many drawings of various quality, his thoughts, and different garbage he picks up when he has the opportunity. A pretty leaf? Snatch. A random receipt from when you got groceries with him together? Snatch. A note you scribbled for him to finally wash his damn dishes? Sad snatch. When he's on leave he takes the opportunity to sketch you as much as possible, so he remembers every single detail of your face, the expressions you make, or the way you position your body. Soap does it to be able to replicate it when you’re not around him. He has millions of sketches where you’re napping on the couch.

When he’s absentmindedly doodling something during the briefings and meetings he draws small figures that resemble Task Force and you. One time he bought some colored pens so he’s not bored out of his mind on base, and the assigned color to draw you was blue, while he drew himself with a red pen. Gaz got green and Ghost he draws using a black pen, both Laswell and Price share the fact that Johnny draws them with a pencil.

One of the small traditions that you have when he’s on leave, is cooking something for each other while some show you’re not paying attention to plays in the background. The kitchen in the apartment is pretty modest, so two people cooking and moving around at the same time is a bit too much for such a small amount of space. When you get too into the process of mixing or cutting something and Soap needs to squeeze past you, he gently puts a hand on your lower back and you instantly know what he wants, because of how much he does it. It’s never arrogant or invasive, instead, it’s gentle and a bit playful.

Johnny’s very sociable and likes going out to drink frequently. You, however, prefer to not get involved in his escapades as often, so you stay home, instead telling him to call whenever he needs you to pick him up. On multiple separate occasions, when he came back home a bit tipsy, he would stumble into your room and fall on your bed, getting knocked out almost in a second. Soap’s snoring is pretty loud when he’s drunk or has a stuffy nose. Plus, he’s as heavy as a damn rock and you can’t move him because of it, so instead you sleep on the couch, sacrificing the health of your back for Soap’s sweet dreams.

Johnny is pretty good with his hands. If anything broken needs fixing, or anything heavy needs lifting he’s always happy to help. He’s also a decent cook, so if you’re not feeling like cooking dinner after you’re back home from work he’s ready to throw something together for you no problem. Partially because he knows that you’d do the same for him if he asked. And, well, he just cares about you. He’s ready to cook dinner for you for the next decade if it means you’ll feel better.

Your texts with him are filled to the brim with stupid videos and photos you send each other. If Johnny sees something that reminds him of you, what you like, or some random inside joke – you best believe he’s already snapping a photo and sending it to you.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

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