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#i hope you don't mind i put down in (other people's) words how wonderful life is with you in the world 😌 (god i'm so unfunny adjsld)
fridayth13 · 1 month
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Could I request Zhongli reuniting with his wife after the two had a falling out 500 years ago?
crushed cor lapis.
↳ zhongli × gn!immortal!artist!reader
↳ genre: soft angst at the beginning, but it's mostly bittersweet | wordcount: 1.6k | warnings: none
↳ notes: i ended up with less angst than i thought i would have. but i did want to explore the thought of time passage and fighting for people who are going to live forever, even if it's subtle; reader is immortal and implied to be an adeptus or a god, but the kind isn't very important; ive had an idea for zhongli and an artist reader for a long time so i tried to combine it i hope you don't mind; as with the gender. i did write with a fem!reader in mind as per the request but in the end, the gender didn't need to be specified for anything so i left it gender neutral; i tried to give reader a more divine disposition about them so the writing ended up really flowery, but in any case i hope you enjoy! i really did have fun writing this one
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You were a painter.
In your old life, as you liked to call it, however, you were a god. Your domain of influence laid in artistry and beauty.
Or rather, that was what Morax used to tell you. Archons like him were the only beings in Teyvat with real domains of influence. But you wouldn't really stop him if that was his way of calling you pretty.
That was about five hundred years ago. Nowadays was a very different story.
You crushed the yellow berries in your mortar and pestle to turn into paint for tomorrow's commission.
You liked your job in Liyue Harbor. As quaint and.. human as it was, you thought there was divinity to be found in the painstaking recreation of the things around you. Though a painting couldn't rival a Kamera in terms of accuracy, you were certain it completely surpassed the device in most other things.
You slowed your movements, surveying the consistency of the paint and the color. That would probably do. You'd collected quite a lot, so you supposed it was time to head back. All you were really lacking earlier was yellow.
And so you trekked on home from the terraces, skipping over stumps of cor lapis and sunset-painted grass along your way.
As you finally reached your home in the harbor, the sun had fully gone down. The lanterns lit, casting the entire city in a soft, warm glow. The neighboring waters reflected the deep blue of the sky and the speckles of rust and gold adorning every building in sight.
You opened your door and you thought of Morax, wondering if he knew five hundred years ago what beauty would settle upon his previously war torn nation. Leaning on the doorframe, you watched over it for a while. Children playing, kites flying, dinner being prepared, laughter and joy running amok.
You don't like to think about him too much, or how his silence is present in every part of the city that was all him, despite having nothing to do with him any longer. No matter how much time had passed, you seemed stuck in the first night he decided not to apologize.
Still, five hundred years was a long time. Although it felt like the blink of an eye, even immortals had to move on eventually.
You gathered your materials inside and closed the door behind you.
—
The mountains may erode, but they will always be mountains.
You recalled his own words as you saw him again for the first time in five hundred years.
A human-sized Rex Lapis stood before you, hands behind his back, dressed to the nines, pristine, and put together, and perfect, and not at all like he ought to have seemed like at your first meeting in several centuries. Though at the very same time, you couldn't imagine him looking any other way.
You bitterly savored the way he avoided your eyes in front of his boss.
"So this is him!" She said. The lively Director Hu Tao of the local funeral parlor was Rex Lapis's boss. You tried not to laugh. "Our new consultant, Mr. Zhongli."
You set your canvas down onto its easel, then the bulk of your dyes and paints on the floor. You did this without averting your eyes, as if trying to burn him if he ever had the nerve to look back at you.
He did not. And to her credit, it seemed Hu Tao noticed it as well. So as not to make your client too uncomfortable, you decided to take a step towards them.
"Mr. Zhongli." You said. With the proximity you put between you, he had no choice but to look back at you. Not a lot changed about him in human form, but by far, his eyes were the most the same. Down to the hard, intense stare, and the set of his brows. You wondered how many other people in Liyue he'd enchanted with them while he was busy avoiding you.
"Mr. Zhongli?" You repeated, a little less amused. Though you somewhat enjoyed how stupefied he looked at your appearance, you'd endured his silence long enough. "My name is Y/N. It's an honor to meet you here."
This seemed to regain him his senses. That, or Hu Tao's suspicious back and forth glances between the two of you.
Zhongli cleared his throat.
"..The honor is mine."
Hu Tao nodded, seeming satisfied for now. She clapped her hands together in excitement, turning to you.
"Alright! I suppose I'll leave you to it then. I have complete faith that you'll be able to depict the poise and elegance of my esteemed consultant."
You gave her your best half smile.
"Well, I'll try."
"No need to be modest! I've seen your work before. You're one of, if not the best, painter in Liyue. Just ask Mr. Zhongli! He's been very taken with your paintings even before we first met. He speaks very highly of you."
You crossed your arms. "You don't say?"
Five hundred years or the blink of an eye, you could still see his embarrassment without him having to say a word.
—
Director Hu Tao had business to take care of for the funeral parlor, and so left with a flourish, and a "Make sure to get his good side!" as she ran off.
You both continued to speak as civilians for a little while. He sat down at a table on the porch, a steaming pot of tea on said table between you. Your face was obscured to him through the thick white canvas.
Avoiding conversation was easy, but not. Comfortable, but not. Natural, but not. It shouldn't have been. As such was the nature of a marriage to the Geo Archon, you supposed. Or rather, the current lack thereof. But even that was up in airs.
"How.. How have you been?"
Your responding glare was unseen to him, but he heard it in the vitreous tone of your reply.
"Fine." You said. "Something must've happened to you though. Your eloquence seems to have disappeared into thin air."
"..You are still upset. I see."
"In what world would I be upset, Mr. Zhongli?" Your use of his mortal name created a crease in his brow. You gently brushed over it on his painting.
"I didn't think you'd want to see me."
"You still could've asked." You muttered, momentarily leaning sideways to look him in the eye. "For someone so revered for his wisdom, your brain still seems to be as hard as rocks."
You caught his surprised expression as you turned back to the canvas. You didn't allow him another word.
"Honestly, who ghosts their own spouse after an argument like that? You'd think the best time would be after.. five hours. Five days. Maybe five weeks after. Not five centuries—"
You caught him mumble, "Well, it's not as if you tried to talk to me either."
"I didn't think I needed to. You made it very clear you wanted me to leave you to die in the Archon War all on your heroic lonesome."
When he didn't respond, you snuck a glance.
The sun's rays were at the precipice of turning gold in its descent into the sea. The glow smeared his porcelain cheeks in amber, his eyes in glitter, the metallic components of his suit in light. He looked like a monument. Tall, statuesque, and lonely. Almost like his mountainous true form. More beautiful than even his numerous statues across Liyue could capture. More than you could capture. Though you did certainly try.
Annoyed and angrily pining as you were, you still tried to get his eyes right. The little flecks of rust against gold. Like cuts of cor lapis crushed to shimmering powder in the Archon's hand. A man of his own making.
You looked at Zhongli as the golden hour faded, slowly turning dusky pink. His eyes swam in wistfulness as he stared out at the harbor. You couldn't help the dull twinge of sorrow deep in the pit of your stomach.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
You didn't know how to follow up. You weren't entirely sure what you were apologizing for. But it felt nice to hear it back from him.
When he finally looked back at you, you were tracing the rich scarlet of his eyeliner onto the canvas.
At some point, he turned on the lamp and set it down beside you while you worked on the finishing touches.
"You're better than I remember." He whispered like he thought you couldn't hear him.
You weren't sure what to say to that either. You just kept painting.
—
"This doesn't change anything. I'm still angry with you."
"Of course."
Zhongli never seemed to run out of tea. Despite not having brewed a new pot throughout your stay, the one on the table continued to steam, its aroma wafting leisurely throughout the room. When he offered you a cup after you left the canvas out to dry, you let yourself take it. You allowed him a calmer response when he spoke.
"This may upset you a bit more, but I am also somewhat bothered you never tried to talk to me."
"So we are at an impasse."
Of course, it did occur to you that you were both being hardheaded and moronic. But you were comforted by a few things.
"It would seem so." Zhongli nodded.
"Or maybe not." You quipped, glancing pointedly at an old painting on the wall. "You seem to have been stalking me, Mr. Zhongli."
"I think stalking might be a slight exaggeration."
"Oh, really."
Even as the mountains erode over the centuries, from the dust, they are fated to reform anew.
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dividers from @clutteredfun
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4ngel-inc · 3 months
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here's the thing about osamu dazai . . . à©­ ⋆ ËšïœĄâ‹†à­šà­§Ëš
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osamu has a lot of love in his heart, and one of his greatest desires is to just feel wanted—it's something he didn't even realize he needed until he met you. it's like there was a gaping hole in his heart before you came into his life, and he was sure there was nothing that could fill the void—oda had told him long ago, you won't find what you're looking for. . . and he'd accepted that. but the least he could do was help people—he felt he was accomplishing that much, or at least working, little by little, toward what his friend's dying wishes were.
but he was still just floating, never quite sure where to turn when his emotions crept up on him, though he tried to press them down for as long as possible—tried to lock them away in a dusty room or at the bottom of a lake, his only friend his approaching shadow as he sank to the bottom, hoping to find peace at last.
if he could't fill the void, he'd escape it entirely.
losing things he loved—people he loved—was always hard for him. he was almost afraid to care for anything, like it was an omen of death placed unfairly upon others.
and when he found you, it was like a weight lifting slowly—his trust first seeping from his soul, before pouring out of his veins like the blood he'd wished he could drain from his body entirely, if only to spare him the pain of another loss—another disappointment in a search that always revealed itself to be fruitless, returning with a hollow soul once again—the same one that make him sick with shame.
the first time you had sex, osamu felt like he was more than his body—this was more than love. you never judged him for wanting to die, never questioned his motives past a surface-level conversation, only reassuring him there were beautiful things to live for all around him, just waiting to be discovered—if only he could see past his misery for a singular moment. if he could stop and breathe, and take it all in.
but if he never did, if he chose to continue living exactly the way he was when you met him—you'd never leave. you promised him that much.
say you'll never leave.
the words were whispered in your ear each time he reached his climax. you wondered if he even realized he was saying them anymore, it was such an everyday occurrence—he was so caught up in the feeling of being close to you—he loved your skin, your hair, your eyes, your perfume. your mind intrigued him, he would never tire of listening to the thoughts and ideas you created in your consciousness, letting them drift and fill the space between you.
your words were a gift. your touch was a treasure to him.
"promise me you'll never leave," the words often tickled your neck as his breathing grew faster and more desperate for release—sparking goosebumps across your skin as he moaned your name.
"don't leave- don't leave- never leave me." tears often threatened to spill from his eyes as he neared his climax—and sometimes they did—the little droplets on your neck only reminding you how real life was, how painful it could be, and only bringing you closer to your release.
the same way he valued you, his heart was your greatest treasure.
"i won't. i'm yours. i'm here."
"fuck-i'm coming." sometimes it sounded like pain, rather than pleasure—a suspended solution of pure bliss at your existence and the dread of how open he was with you, how dangerous it was to have his entire heart in your hands.
his love for you just overflowed each time you held him, every way that you touched him—the way you simply wanted him had his toes curling as he filled you each time, reaching as deep as possible, desperate to keep you close.
he only hoped putting everything on the line for you would be enough to make you stay. he could hide in those moments of closeness with you forever, abandoning anything and everything else for a taste of the happiness he felt with you—whatever it took to make you as happy as you made him, he'd do anything.
he'd cross any line. he'd leave his heart open, bruised, and bleeding for you. anything for you.
âŠč ֗ ꫂ
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joelscruff · 10 months
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safety (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader)
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just a bit of an origin story for my boyfriend's dad!joel relationship. you can read other installments of this fic here. this one isn't smutty but i hope you enjoy 💕 and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip. summary: you find yourself falling for your boyfriend's father. rating: 18+ (mdni) warnings: age difference, cheating, daddy issues, daddy kink, lap sitting, pet names (use of babygirl) word count: 2.2k
the first time your boyfriend's father kisses you, it's because you ask him to.
you've always looked at him a bit differently, always found yourself taking quick peeks out of the corner of your eye whenever he's in the room, given him shy smiles and giggled at all his jokes (most of which were actually funny, believe it or not). the first time you'd met him you'd gone to shake his hand, expecting a firm shake and a quick nod like your own father, but he'd surprised you completely when he'd wrapped you up in his arms, given you a bear hug and softly told you he was so happy to meet you.
your boyfriend always rolls his eyes at his father's affection, his jokes, his quirks. it's been almost disappointing in a way, to see the way his father behaves in comparison to his son. your boyfriend constantly seems to cultivate a cold exterior - and interior, if you're being honest with yourself - while his father radiates warmth and welcomeness, a safeness you've never seen in your own father. you wonder how your boyfriend is able to take such advantage of his father's kindness, that safety that so many people can only crave and never experience.
the two of you fight a lot, but this is normal for you. every relationship you've had - whether familial or romantic - has involved some form of conflict. it's just the way things are; you've come to accept that. the only difference is that before this you never had a third party standing on the outside, witnessing it, worrying about it.
"are you okay?"
the first time he catches you crying you feel embarrassed; until this point you've put on a good front, been your sweet and passive self around him. now he sees a different side of you, the side everyone else in your life has seen dozens of times. the side that hurts, feels pain, suffers.
you nod, leaning against the banister of the front patio and biting your lip, "yeah, i'm fine," your voice cracks and breaks - you're not fine, your boyfriend just berated you for messing up his concentration during one of his stupid games, called you a waste of space. but you're not going to tell his father that.
"you don't look fine," he murmurs, taking a step toward you, "something happen?"
you shake your head, "no really, i'm okay, mr. miller."
"joel," he corrects you softly with a gentle smile, and you try to smile back.
"joel," you repeat, "sorry."
"don't be sorry," he says tenderly, taking another step toward you and carefully placing a hand on your shoulder, "i want you to know...if you ever need to talk to somebody, i'm here. i'll always listen, alright?"
you're not sure what to say; no one has ever given you an offer like that before. it's confusing and surreal. your brow furrows but you slowly nod, "okay."
he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze and then goes back inside the house, leaving you standing there alone. the ghost of his touch weighs heavily for the rest of the evening, his words echoing in your mind. he can't really mean that, can he?
the next time he sees you cry it's only about a week after the first time, and this time he knows what's wrong. you can see it in his expression, the quiet anger burning behind his glasses for his own son.
"i won't defend him," he tells you softly, sitting next to you on the couch in the living room while your boyfriend yells something incoherent down the hall, "you can talk to me."
you find yourself confiding in him briefly, only briefly. you don't go into much detail, just tell him you hate being made to feel worthless, that it's something you've dealt with for a long time. he touches your shoulder again, squeezes it calmingly, reassuringly. you look into his eyes and feel yourself falling before you can even register it. he cares about you.
you think about him a lot. during the day, nights, when you're in bed and can't sleep and just want somebody to hold you. you imagine his arms wrapped around you, remember that first time you met when he'd hugged you so tight and welcomed you so warmly. you want him to hold you like that again, touch you, love you. you touch yourself and pretend it's his fingers, you bury your face in your pillow as you come and pretend it's his chest.
you think of him when you have sex with your boyfriend. you'd feel bad, but you've started to become numb with the way he treats you, uses you. you close your eyes and curl your hand in his hair and pretend it's his father on top of you, his father inside you, his father kissing your neck.
every week your boyfriend competes in ridiculously boring online competitions; you show up at his house only for the promise of seeing joel, talking to him, sharing a quick moment in the kitchen or living room with him. you sit on your boyfriend's bed and watch from afar as he bangs on the keyboard and shouts aggressive things into his microphone, sounding like a whiny and petulant child. you wonder what you even see in him anymore, what you even saw in him to begin with. you should end it, you know you should. but then how would you see his dad?
he berates you again for messing up his concentration, tells you to leave for a bit and to "stop being so annoying". you don't even protest, just climb off his bed and leave the room, slamming the door louder than necessary behind you.
joel spends a lot of time in his office; he's the head of a contracting company, always making plans, doing paperwork, making phone calls. he has his shit together, another thing you feel drawn to. he's the only person in your life who seems to know exactly what to do in any given situation, knows who he is and where he's going.
you find yourself climbing the stairs and knocking softly on his office door. "come in," he calls from inside, and you slowly push it open.
he looks up from his desk, scattered with paper and blueprints. his brow furrows when he sees it's you, "hey, sweetheart, you alright?"
you close the door behind you and then stand there for a few seconds just staring at him; he's got on a cozy looking grey sweater, knitted and warm. his jeans are dark and his socks are mismatched, a quirk you love. he looks perfectly disheveled in his joel miller sort of way, hair thick and curly, beard scruffy and soft. his glasses accentuate the kindness of his eyes, the tenderness as he looks at you. he's like a comforting beam of light, a safe haven.
"can you hold me?" you ask softly, barely a whisper. it's out before you even know you're saying it, and then you're biting down hard on your lip and feeling tears prick in your eyes.
he seems surprised but only for a moment, then he makes his way toward you in two long strides and wraps his arms around you, pulling you in and holding you close. you melt into his embrace, burying your head in his warm sweater and almost collapsing into his arms, feeling yourself begin to cry steadily. you should feel embarrassed but you're too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being held by him again, feeling him so close, inhaling the comforting scent of him.
you feel him press a soft kiss to the top of your head, a gesture of comfort and safety, nothing more, "you're okay," he murmurs into your hair, "i've got you."
he holds you like that for a long time and makes no move to let go, just lets you stand there and take what you desperately need from him. your cries die down eventually until you're sniffling lightly into the thick fabric of his sweater and just breathing him in. his hands trail up and down your back comfortingly, tracing patterns and words, almost like a secret language.
"i feel safe with you," you mumble against his chest, but the words are muffled and hard to make out.
"hm?"
you pull back a bit to peer up at him with tear-filled eyes, cheeks pink and puffy, "i feel safe with you," you repeat, voice shaky but much more relaxed, calm.
he smiles softly, peering down at you with that familiar tenderness, "i'm glad," he murmurs, and you swear you catch his eyes trail down to your lips for a brief moment, "i want you to feel safe with me."
"can you kiss me?" you whisper, voice breaking on the last word, not caring that this could make or break the quiet companionship you've formed with him, "please."
his brow furrows again but he doesn't pull away, lips parting a bit in surprise, "sweetheart, i'm not sure that's-"
"please," you repeat, voice raw and desperate, "it's all i think about."
his expression relaxes then, the tenderness returning. with a resigned look you watch as he leans his face down toward you; you close your eyes and allow him to press his lips gently against yours, soft and sweet. he's so gentle, so warm, so safe. your arms wrap tighter around him as you kiss him back, a soft whimper falling from the back of your throat. it's perfect. he's perfect.
when he pulls away he leaves his forehead pressed against yours, and when you open your eyes your heart stutters when you see his face so close, lips wet from your saliva and eyes dark with desire.
"that what you needed?" he murmurs softly, nose brushing against yours.
you nod and kiss him again, humming quietly against him when he pulls you in closer and palms your back firmly, holding you close. you're not sure how it happens but you both end up on the small couch in the corner of his office, him sitting back against the cushions while you seat yourself in his lap, a leg on either side of his thighs. his hands travel inside your shirt, exploring the soft expanse of your back as you whimper again into his mouth and revel in the feeling of being touched by someone so different.
"what else do you need?" he breathes, voice deep and husky as his hands travel from your back to your face, cradling it in his palms, "i'll give it to you, sweetheart, anything you ask. just tell me."
you could say a multitude of things; you could tell him to kiss you again, touch you, fuck you, the list goes on. and you want him to do all of that, but the one thing on your mind is what inevitably slips past your lips.
"i just want you to hold me," you whisper, and you don't care if you sound pathetic, "please."
he looks at you with a great deal of pain in his eyes, an empathetic gaze you've seen numerous times. he thumbs your cheeks, wipes away the tears there and slowly nods.
"okay, babygirl," he murmurs, "i'll hold you."
you sit in his lap for the next hour. it's quiet and peaceful and perfect; he rubs your back while you bury your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in and letting his presence completely invade your senses. you fall asleep briefly, but when you wake up you're happy to find that you're still in his lap, still being held. he makes absolutely no moves to remove you from him, to pull away or leave the room. he just holds you.
"thank you," you whisper finally; it's time to leave, you know this. your boyfriend will be looking for you soon, wondering where you went and why you didn't come back. you pull your face up from joel's neck and look down at him with tenderness, love.
"any time," he murmurs with a gentle smile, then leans forward a bit to press a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose, "i mean it, sweetheart. any time you're upset, any time you need to be held...you come to me, okay?"
you nod, biting down on your lip to keep the tears at bay, "no one's ever held me like this before," you whisper, "not even my own father."
his brows scrunch together and he touches your arms, squeezing them carefully in his hands, "i'm sorry, babygirl," he breathes, "you don't deserve that," his eyes capture yours in an intimate gaze, "you deserve the world."
the word is there, fighting to be spoken behind your lips. but you don't say it. you don't want to make him uncomfortable, don't want to ruin something that's only just started. but you feel it there, the desire to call him what you've been wanting to call him since the day you met. but that's a conversation for another day.
instead of words, you settle for a kiss. you lean down and touch your mouth to his, feel the gentle scratch of his scruff against your chin as you open a bit wider to allow his tongue to prod inside, just for a moment. he tastes like comfort, feels like safety.
daddy.
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ikarakie · 1 year
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part 1
eddie wakes up.
he doesn't expect to. not on earth, anyways. but he does, in a hospital bed, to dustin's scolding and the girls' smiles. he's told they won, vecna's dead. the government are working on clearing his name as they speak as a fucked up 'thank you', and everything is fucking okay.
he asks after red and the sinclairs. apparently, they had a run-in with asshole of the century jason carver, but sinclair had held his own with a mean right hook that harrington had taught him once. max had fought vecna off with the help of supergirl, who'd come into her mind at the last second via shenanigans that eddie didn't understand. though he was assured he'd have the story told to him by mike himself, since he, supergirl, and the byers' were on their way in from california.
everyone's crowded around his bed, minus one very pretty head of hair, firing off their accounts. robin's partway through how the vines had attacked them when it happens.
"and then they grabbed me and slammed me against the wall! so steve-" and she hesitates. widens her eyes and a looks a bit nauseous all of a sudden. eddie feels his stomach sink.
"hey, speaking of harrington, where is he?" he asks, hoping to fucking god it's not what he thinks. though the way the room falls silent, the way dustin's suddenly holding his hand a lot tighter, makes his eyes water.
"he got you out." henderson whispers, sounding so very broken. "he- he carried you back to the gate and sent you through, but it- it was closing." he's biting his lip so hard he draws blood.
"he... he's still there?" eddie asks, breathless, horrified. the image of steve harrington hauling his ass out of that backwards hell dimension only to get stuck there himself makes his head spin. robin breaks down next to him, bringing her legs to her chest on her chair. nancy puts an arm around her shoulder.
"he made sure we all got through first." she says, deceptively even. eddie can see how tense her shoulders are, and he gets it. because, for fucks sakes, of course he sent the girls and henderson through first. "i think... i think he didn't want to risk coming through when it was so nearly closed. so he stayed."
eddie takes a second. looks around the room, at everyone's sullen faces. wonders why steve thought his was the life to save instead of his own, when all these people loved him so fucking dearly. eddie liked robin, and he liked max, and nancy, and the little sinclair, but they were more steve's people than his. and yet the guy, for whatever fucking reason, thought eddie, who was barely clinging on to begin with, was the one who deserved to live?
if you told him three months ago that he'd be sat in a hospital bed, having been dragged back from the edge of death by steve harrington, who'd fucking sacrificed himself to do so, he would've laughed. even more, if you told him that, in that position, eddie's heart ached with affection for the guy, he would've punched you. probably.
not that his puppy crush on steve was a recent development, but this whole... seeing him in action thing had just exacerbated it. especially with all those lingering looks they'd shared. semi-flirty words and little signals that eddie forced himself not to read into. but now he wished he had. wished he'd said what he'd meant to, that last time they saw each other.
"it's okay, though." dustin said, breaking the silence. "because when el comes back, she'll just open a gate, and we can go and get him." he sounds so sure, that for a moment, eddie thinks he's right, but the way nancy sighs indicates this is an issue.
"we'd like to do that." she says, "but... we don't know if vecna dying means... the upside down did, too." god, she was right. what if it'd all collapsed in on itself? robin sobs harder, shaking her head, and eddie puts a hand on one of her knees. wishes, not for the first time, that steve was here, to hold her. instead of- of- wherever he was.
the next week and half passes in a blur. eddie gets discharged, despite everyone's protests, and just told he needs to rest while he heals. they all set up camp in steve's house, which feels fucking weird, but dustin reasons that they need to all be together to form a plan, to watch eddie, and robin had a key anyways, and the place was massive, and it's not like steve ever minded. (the 'when he was alive' goes unspoken. they don't want to talk like that, not yet.)
it's one more week before mike and his little crew get back. apparently, they got caught in some government bullshit that'd held them up, but they return with joyce byers and a back-from-the-dead chief hopper, so that's cool. there's hugs and reunions and stories are exchanged. when the bit about steve getting stuck in the upside down comes up, eddie sees how will byers' face falls. remembers dustin saying he'd been trapped there once, too, and supposes it's sympathy.
chief hopper looks ready to tear the whole place apart. he'd asked after steve the second everyone had gathered, strangely terrifying for a man who was skin and bones. he'd only settled and listened to the story after being assured steve wasn't dead. (not that they... actually knew that, but no one wanted to say it out loud again).
supergirl, eleven, wasted no fucking time. she grabbed a radio and a piece of fabric and apparently began 'searching for steve in the void'. though eddie didn't quite understand, he held his breath alongside everyone else. only relaxing when she smiled, and said, albeit a little wobbly: "he is alive. he is okay."
robin's sobs would probably be with him till the day he died. she'd collapsed into joyce byers' arms, mumbling incoherently. dustin wasn't any better, crying into will's shoulder.
after some safety briefings, and a begruding blessing from hopper, supergirl opened a gate in steve's living room and fucked off through it. eddie was astounded at the ease with which she entered the dimension. will explained that, because vecna was dead, it didn't 'feel as bad anymore'. though he still held mike's hand tightly and sat as far away from it as possible.
and so the waiting game began. they tried to make small talk, tried to keep the mood light, but the whole thing weighed heavy on them. watching the gate to hell that they'd just sent a little girl through, wishing every second she'd come back in one piece.
it was maybe fourty five minutes later when max perked up. they all turned to the gate at her movement, and sure enough, there they were.
he was pale, and tired looking, covered in some sort of goop or slime or something. holding eleven's hand the whole time- though for who's benefit, eddie wasn't sure. he stumbled a bit as he stepped through the gate and still, still, turned to help el through. though he was a bit slimmer, and clearly weary, it was him, it was steve, and he was alive.
robin was on him in seconds. screaming, clinging to him and asking him 'how dare you? how fucking dare you? never do that to me again, you piece of shit! i love you so much, you can't do that!' he buried his face in her shoulder and swayed slightly as he held her. murmuring things eddie couldn't hear. dustin wasn't far behind, squeezing between them and similarly blubbering. steve was hugging them both and gazing at them- at everyone who was crying- with such wonder. like he couldn't believe he'd been missed that much.
one by one, everyone had their fill. max whacked him on the arm and then hugged him so tightly it looked like it hurt. nancy brushed his hair back out of his eyes and called him an idiot. joyce byers gently wiped his face of dirt and grime before kissing his cheek. chief hopper held him like a father, strong and tight.
eddie sat back, just watched. wondered how someone could be so loved and not feel worth it at all.
then steve's eyes settled on him. they brightened, almost sparkled. "eddie!" he called. his voice was rough from disuse, but still sounding so relieved and happy it made eddie falter. he stepped forwards, feeling steve's dazzling smile pull the corners of his own mouth upwards. "you're okay!"
then he had an armful of steve harrington, and it all came flooding out. he felt a bit foolish, but only until he realised steve was crying too. "you... asshole." he muttered, holding him as tightly as his strength would allow.
"i told you not to be fucking hero." steve huffed, though it lost any of it's power with how his voice wobbled. "i thought you died, i thought-"
"you're one to fucking talk!" eddie cried, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. "i woke up and you- they told me you dragged my ass outta there and then stayed behind! no one knew what had happened to you, it's been weeks, steve! i couldn't- why would you do that? why would you not just leave me-"
"i couldn't leave you!" god, he sounded so offended at the very idea. eddie felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest. "i couldn't- i wouldn't do that-"
"i know you wouldn't." eddie lamented, because fuck, he did. he knew deep down even if he had died there, outside his trailer to those bats, steve still would've brought him home. "doesn't make it any less stupid. just makes you- makes you so-"
it hit him how close they were. probably an inch, maybe less, between their faces.
"makes me so what?" steve asked, a little breathless. eddie gazed at him, deciding that: fuck it. he'd be too close to death to not... see if whatever he thought they had was real. he sent a mental prayer to a god he didn't really believe in anymore: please, let him not have read this wrong.
he looked to steve's lips. pointedly. watched how his cheeks flushed and a shy smile crept onto them. how his eyes flickered down to eddie's as well. there was a silent, shared understanding: if we were alone right now, i'd like to have kissed you.
"so... stupidly perfect, steve harrington." eddie muttered, undeniably affectionate, pulling him in for another embrace. tucked his face into his neck so he could whisper. "you can't save someone's life and then die before they can tell you thank you." steve melted under his touch, pressing a kiss to where his shoulder met his neck under the safety of eddie's hair. it made him warm, and giddy, and so very fucking thankful.
"you can tell me now." he whispered back. eddie couldn't help but smile again. he'd tell him anything if he asked like that.
"thank you, steve." he muttered, squeezing him slightly. hoping his touch communicated what he needed it to: please, please, please don't leave me again.
"anytime, eddie." steve whispered back, hands balling into the fabric of the shirt eddie wore. i won't, as long as you don't either.
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reidsaurora · 9 months
Note
Can you do height difference + "one more kiss? please?" with Hotch? Pretty pretty please with Mick Mars on top? <3 - V
hmmm i wonder who this could be đŸ€”đŸ˜‰
"Coffee + Kisses" ~ A. Hotchner
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pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader
summary: "mornings were made for coffee and kisses. at least, that was aaron's philosophy."
word count: 740
warnings: a single swear word, mentions of food, that's literally it
genre: tooth-rotting fluff, quite literally with all the sugar references in this blurb
extra notes: the aaron icon in the collage is by @ssa-sapphic (edited to fit theme better!) and the dividers below are by @firefly-graphics
masterlist | kissing prompts | ask box
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mornings were made for coffee and kisses. at least, that was aaron's philosophy.
most people looked at the stoic figure that was aaron hotchner and assumed he was brash and hubristic, emotions on a completely different plane of existence from his physical form. but you? his trophy wife? no, you got to see every hidden layer underneath his apathetic walls, your own little personal slice of heaven.
so while most people assumed aaron's mornings were spent with his nose buried in the newspaper, black coffee in hand, they couldn't be further from the truth. this man was all homemade iced lattes, sugary cereals, and good morning kisses.
that last one may or may not be how you ended up here, nearly ten minutes late for work, coat and purse still hanging up by the door, one shoe on and the other nowhere to be seen.
"i have to get up," you'd told him. "unlike you, i unfortunately have to work on saturdays."
but when he gave you that look, that sweet pout that made even a grown man look innocent, you couldn't say no. one kiss turned into two turned into three, kisses turned into five minutes of snuggles, and now you were here, rushing around the house and tracking down your missing heel like a modern day cinderella.
"aaron, have you seen-"
as if on cue, the man—still sporting his pajamas and bedhead, his chin dark with a five-o'clock shadow—rounded the corner, missing heel in hand. "sammy apparently needed a snack," he chuckled, bending down and putting the shoe on for you. he stood back up to full height, somehow still towering over you, even with your extra three inches of artificial height.
"sammy needs a stern talking to for stealing his mama's shoes," you kidded, tossing your arms over his shoulders. even you wondered how aaron, the seemingly heartless man that he was, fell in love with the tiny ball of fluff that had apparently stolen your shoe.
"i'll definitely be in contact with him," he joked, pulling you up for a soft kiss. he tasted like cinnamon toast crunch, a strange juxtaposition from the manly smell of his deodorant, but not an unpleasant one. suddenly, you worried about what your own breath tasted like, making a mental note to eat a couple tic-tacs on the way to work just in case.
you forced yourself to pull away, being met with a disapproving pout from the man above you. to anyone else, his height might've made him seem intimidating, but you knew aaron was nothing but a gentle giant, akin to a teddy bear in human form. "i have to go," you reminded him, still not having unlinked your arms from around him.
"just one more kiss?" he said, his bottom lip jutting out like a child in a toy store. "please?"
and who were you to deny him, the absolute love of your life, just one more kiss? despite the logical part of your brain telling you not to give in, the absolutely smitten part of your brain won, practically telling the other part to go to hell.
you leaned up once again, your lips locking with his for one last, sweet, good morning kiss. his palms settled on your hips, holding you as close as possible, a gentle gesture in hopes of changing your mind about going to work that day. and little did he know, you were close, oh so close, to calling in sick. to making up a fake family emergency. to just saying, "sorry, i simply don't feel like it."
but in the end, you knew it was for the best to suck it up and go to work anyway. after all, the time spent apart only made the moments together that much more special, that much more worth it. "i have to go, love."
he gave you one last peck, releasing his hold from your hips. "fine, i'll just be here," he said, falling back on the couch dramatically, "longing for you, my dear."
you giggled at the sight of this grown man acting like a character in a shakespeare play. "you're so dramatic," you commented, heading for the door.
not having moved from where he lay after his performance, he shouted, "love you too!"
"love you more!" you called back, closing the door behind you swiftly. you shook your head, giggling. what were you going to do with him?
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-> taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @namorswhore @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @bbbbbbbbbbbbbbl @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahargrove @cwritesforfun @maelartasch @lover-of-books-and-tea @juismissing
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reverieaa · 10 months
Text
The self, fufilled.
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It might have taken me a while, but as I promised in my last poll, I will deliver what you all were most interested in hearing, my explanation of the self fufilled. Consider this a pt.2 of "a change of clothes".
Yes, I say the self fufilled. I thought this play of words is not only interesting to do but would bring light to a new perspective that may help you come to your own understanding.
Many don't sit to really understand what " no other cause to your thoughts other than you" really means to them, we know, but we don't understand.
How do I stop my doubtful thoughts? How do I manifest quickly? how do I feel my wish fufilled? How do I change my state? How do I feel free? How do I stop punishing myself?
Well for the last one, you can start by putting an end to all previous questions, searching with the intention of finding an outside answer.
The opposite of love is hate, as the opposite of to hurt is to heal.
And the opposite of attention is indifference. As Edward art himself said that indifference is truly the answer to all your doubts.
I don't want you to go through your day and force yourself to imagine, affirm, and re-read every post you've ever read again and again until it finally clicks, I don't want you to fight every thought and scold your mind for "going out of place" either.
All that I want you to do is all that is required for you to do, change the inner. We truly are fortunate when I tell you this good news because change is all we do, all we've ever done.
I'll tell you honestly, not to give you hope and neither to shatter it or delude you when I tell you that majority of your problems that sound so complicated as the universe itself, could be solved just through self identification and a rearrangement of the mind.
I don't say this to give comforting lies, false hope, and support because I don't want people with hopes and dreams in tough situations to feel bad and be a moral person, but because the truth is far more comforting than any of it.
I won't tell you to "keep going" when you feel like nothing is working and breaking down. If you feel the need to change something, then change should happen, and it shall as your word is logic to your world.
I want you to understand that you're not meant to fufill the thing itself, but yourself instead. It's not about your desired face, it's about you, it's not about your ideal relationship and sp, it's about you, it's not about imagining the perfect life, it's about you.
It's not about using yourself to fulfill the scenario/desire. It's about it fulfilling and changing YOU.
Right now, you have a bed, you are not imagining that you do, you're not checking to see if you have a bed, you probably didn't even look to see if you have one, it is a CLAIM within yourself. With the same conviction, you use it for your desires. Take this example with things you have in your life.
I don't think people realize that the whole reason why trying changing the outer reality does not work because there is no outer reality to begin with, I mean that literally.
It is crucial to understand when you imagine that you are not creating the desire or a new reality, but you can only conceptualize that version of you to begin with because it already exists.
Let the ego mind go, let the need for outer change go, both its worries and time-frame of your life so far and just sit there with what I'm trying to say when I tell you to feel the wish fulfilled. It is a CLAIM, not a process, a change of identification.
Once you identify yourself with who you actually are, the awareness/ pure consciousness and believe that you is all there is , you won't want to "manifest a df" just to decorate the outer man, but you'll want to manifest it bc it genuinely makes u happy for yourself, same for every manifestation.
It all comes down to a satisfying claim, a claim of your observation that you see as TRUTH and are currently seeing in your mind.
For those who are wondering what knowingness I'm talking abt, it's the same knowingness when someone asks your name, you know you are (name), you know you're (nr) years old.
And so the same way you know your name, you know you have your desired body, the same way you know how old you are, you know you have your dream car.
We identify as body and outer when the outer world itself is WITHIN us, you are the answer to everything as everything has it's root to you, and at the same, everything cam only live through ypir awareness, nothing greater and nothing to "get".
If i view myself as pure consciousness, then I do not care for the 5 senses to show me anything because I don't view myself as just body, and this doesn't mean you can't deal with things in the 3D, because working in the 3D and identifying with it are different things. Therefore, don't feel the need to commit all your 5 senses to your imaginal act.
This isn't a for you to tell yourself: " ok, I have to know I am pure consciousness/ the creator and work with it from there" this post is telling you that you ALREADY are it, skip emotions here, we have established that you are it right now and youvare becoming aware that you are in imagination.
All we do in life is make claims within ourselves about things we are aware of having in the mind. Say you have a red car, and you think about it in your head, you know it's yours, you don't need to check your own drivers license, you know you have a certain hair color, it is a aware claim, you aren't trying to get it, there is no rush to do so, you are at ease knowing it IS so and are just observing your life through that state on consciousness.
And since you are consciousness, and you can get/be anything you want just by being aware that you are it, what is it that you can't do or be in this world? You can't be satisfied going after the "object" itself bc the only way we can enjoy things in this world is through the awareness that we have it, it has no life of its own outaide your own consciousness.
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moodymisty · 11 months
Note
Hi ! I hope you're having a great day/night and I was wondering if I could place a request of maybe Crosshair wanting to have kids with reader (female reader if possible)/having a slight baby fever after seeing her interact with Omega a lot ? Have a good day/night ! ❀
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[ 𝕾𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕾𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]
Part 2
Author's Note: This took a bit of finagling to try and get a scenario that would work timeline wise, I will admit. But then I just said 'fuck it' AU time. So 'Crosshair doesn't leave the batch' AU it is. l I kept this one SFW just cause that's how I read the request, but if you want the spice, you're always welcome to throw in another request sometime ;3
This one got a little fru fruy and poetic, so if you just want the sauce, I can cook some up
Summary: Crosshair sees how good you are with Omega, and thinks of a future that's rare, but not impossible.
Relationships: Crosshair/Fem!Reader
Warnings: SFW, Mentions of having kids, tokophobia warning (trying take sure this gets hit by peoples blacklist if they don't like this sort of thing I know it's not everyone's cup of tea), Crosshair longing and thinking of his future with you, Treating Omega as a like pseudo-adopted kid give this kid parental figures lol
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Hyperspace might be the perfect time to get things done- but to Crosshair, it's dreadfully boring.
The ship sails through the stars with a monotonous hum, putting anyone of a less overactive mind to sleep a long time ago. Wrecker is snoring away, a forearm over his eyes. Hunter isn't asleep, but he's relaxing, as is Tech. Which means more so that he's tinkering on a personal project, instead of needed repairs. Echo is resting his eyes- Crosshair can tell by the rhythm of his chest he isn't asleep.
You're nowhere to be seen however, though it's obvious where you are, as he looks to his right towards the cockpit.
He can see the top of your head in the co-pilot's seat, as your head is clearly leaned onto your left shoulder. You must've fallen asleep, as you don't move at all in the few seconds he looks. Getting up off the storage crate he was relaxing on, crosshair makes his way closer until he steps between the seats, and looks down on you.
And Omega, as he quickly notices.
She's sitting sideways in your lap, and you have her loosely supported with one arm over her knees and the other behind her back. Her cheek is smushed against your arm, and the both of you are completely asleep.
It's... Endearing. Crosshair hasn't really seen you this relaxed in, well, he can't exactly remember. Life hasn't been easy, since everything. The two of you have seemed to go with the flow perfectly so far, even after everything that's been thrown at everyone so far. Especially you; As while they were all used to the chaos, you weren't.
He slowly lowers himself into the pilot's seat, trying not to make a sound. But just as he finally settles, he notices your head shift. Not long after, you open your eyes. They almost instantly settle on him, looking over his body as he sits ankle over thigh in the seat. You swallow your mouth dry, blurry sight focusing.
"How long was I asleep?" He glances to you out of the corner of his eyes.
"Don't worry about it." He hears you softly exhale. "I wasn't asking because I wanted to get up."
Omega remains asleep even through your quiet talking, establishing that she's clearly a heavier sleeper than you. But even if Crosshair still doesn't speak up again for awhile, watching the stars streak by the viewport. When he glances back over to the two of you, he notices the way you're brushing a piece of Omega's hair out of her face.
The two of you have been stuck like glue since first meeting, and even someone far denser than Crosshair wouldn't have much trouble seeing it. He can't really put a word to how the sight makes him feel. It's not bad, not in the slightest. It makes his chest hurt in a similar way it did when he would watch the cities bustle with life while they were locked away for later use in clone bases.
Longing?
"You're good with her." He mumbles, jerking his head your way. You shrug your shoulders.
"Hard not to be. She's a good kid."
He doesn't exactly have much of a gauge of what makes a 'good kid'. All he's even spoken to was clone cadets, neck deep in training.
But you look so, natural with her. Omega seems to be so comfortable with you, and maybe in a way, she sees you as a parent. She seems to think that way about Hunter, Echo too; He kind of wonders how she views him.
She almost always views the two of you as a unit, as even in a small ship you and Crosshair are rarely apart. Does she view him the same as you?
He never even thought he'd get the chance to even think about those sorts of things, until he met you. But even then, he never wanted them. Kriff, if it hadn't messed with the early clone tests brains so much, the Kaminoans would've made sure they'd never have the chance. But would he even be able? He went from test tube to battlefield, how can that raise a kid?
But for all of his rough and gruff, he wouldn't mind giving it a shot with you. You'd help him in the spots that need work. He'd help with yours, even if he doesn't think there is any. If Omega is any indicator, you'd be the perfect parent.
How'd he get so stupidly lucky? This all feels like a dream sometimes. He feels like having a child with you would be like rolling the dice yet again and risking losing every good thing he's manage to win. But gods, does he want it.
"Crosshair?" He looks up, and sees you staring at him. Your eyebrows are raised, almost suspicious.
"You good? You look lost." He doesn't respond, instead looking away from a moment. He's trying to think of a way to word his thoughts, but Omega stirs before he has the chance. He probably wouldn't be able to word them in any way that made sense, anyhow.
"Hmm?" She rubs her one eye, looking up at you before turning awkwardly to see Crosshair. He wasn't there when she'd fallen asleep.
"How long was I asleep?" You respond as Crosshair moves to stand. "Not that long. I just woke up too."
Standing right beside your seat he lays an arm on the headrest, leaning downward. He can see all the little imperfections on your face, as you look at up at him and habitually smile. He'll never get over how it seems like the sight of him makes you happier. He feels the same, even if he doesn't show it in the same way.
"Should get out of that seat before you ruin your back." It's true; The way you've been tucked in is horribly uncomfortable, but you aren't going to abandon it right at this moment.
After talking Crosshair leans down just a bit farther, enough to steal a kiss. His lips are nice and warm against yours; Soft, gentle pressure as his nose brushes against your cheek. Afterwards he plops a hand on Omega's head, ruffling her hair before running it down her face and squishing it as she lets out an irritated noise, slapping it away.
He hears the two of you quietly snicker as he walks out of the cockpit, moving to sit on his bunk and take off his boots. The two of you are mumbling about something, and he hears his name mentioned once or twice. He can't help but take another glance and see what the two of you are up to, and while he won't join, he'll enjoy the sound.
Maybe once this is all over, Crosshair can finally enjoy the pitter patter of small feet he always heard the holo-dramas talk about himself.
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Join the taglist here: @seriowanwan @starborncyare @simp-legend @nekotaetae @chad-somethingg @coffeyorky @merkitty49 @lokigirlszendaya @totesnothere04 @get-wr3ckered @rebel-finn @mandoloriancookie @therealnekomari @loverofclones @notthatfanfictionwriterr @lucyysthingsgs @jennrosefx @fxlsealarm @crosshairs-wife @sinfulsalutations @Rennyboo9
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ace-bi-says-hi · 5 months
Text
As Cold As Death (Part 1)
Part 1|2|
Summary:
You've had always lived what felt like a half-life, died more times than you could count. Astarion was a vampire spawn who had been "living" in the shadow of his master. But things change for the both of you when you're abducted by Mindflayers and implanted with tadpoles. With a Cleric of Shar; a Githyanki Warrior; an Escaped Solider for Zariel; the Blade of Frontiers; a Former Chosen of Mystra; the Corpse of a Scribe and the Pale Elf, you venture forth towards Baldur's Gate in the hopes of finding a cure. Where the shadow over Astarion is darkest and the Dead Three 's chosen lurk along the way.
Genre: Romance, Slowburn
Pairing: Astarion/Necromancer GN!Reader (Tav)
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, blood drinking, manipulation. More to be added as the fic goes on. Please let me know if there's any I missed.
Word Count: 4.9k
Note: This has been cross-posted to AO3 and can be seen as a prequel to 'Predators and Prey'. No beta, we die like bing bong.
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It had been a long and arduous day of exploring and bloody battle. Your grim harvest had done little to assuage the pain emanating from your strained heart. Of all the people to get infected with one of those gods damned parasites it just had to be you. Though at least you weren't alone in this - you had formed a little group with others in your predicament just a few days ago.
You were a ragtag group, some of these people you wouldn't have found yourself associating with if the circumstances weren't so dire. This included the pale elf in your group. Your magic thrummed in his presence, he was of the dead. A vampire. Though he was trying oh so hard to hide that, just not well. The fact that you could clearly see the bite mark on his neck really showed how half-arsed his attempts were. However, you figured that not having a reflection made it hard to know he had successfully covered them.
In fact, when you had awoken in the night to his attempt to feed on you, you just laughed.
“You won't get much from me if you're peckish. I'm not that nutritional and my circulation is horrid at best.” You lounged back on your elbows, peering up at him.
He stood there, arms crossed in dissatisfaction, “What? No shock? No horror? That would at least be some fun to see.”
“You thought you had fooled a necromancer? 'Star, you radiate undeath. You're paler than me and my pallor has been called deathly – not a perk of my school by the way.”
“Hmmm, you did strike me as rather sickly looking.”
“And so you thought I'd make a good snack?” You raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Look, I'm feeling weak, anyone would do.”
“Your words wound me.” You feigned insult, putting your hand over your heart.
“
You're vexing.”
You took a moment to contemplate the pros and cons of letting him feed from you. The other party members were likely to react negatively to his vampirism and you'd rather not risk him being staked or incinerated. That man's face flashed through your mind unwarranted and gave you the last push you needed.
You huffed a sigh, “If you're truly that weak, I guess I can oblige you. But don't take too much.”
He startled, “Really? I – Of course. Not one drop more. Shall we get comfortable?”
You laid back on your bedroll with a sense of trepidation pooling in your stomach but watched silently as the elf dropped to his knees. He cradled you in his hands and for a moment you wondered if others found his touch to be cold like yours. The thought was interrupted by the sting of his fangs piercing the delicate skin of your neck, like shards of ice. However, after a few moments passed, the familiar feeling of your life being drained away crept in.
You felt it in your fingers first, as your body started prioritising your vital organs over your extremities – the numbness slithering down from the tips of your fingers into your elbows as you fist his shirt, trying to hold on to consciousness. Next, it was your feet. They began to feel like solid ice blocks, you couldn't even wiggle your toes. Your heart began to struggle as your blood pressure dropped, if it weren't for his cradling you, your head would surely be lulling.
“A-Asta
rion. S-stop. That's
 enough.” You tugged at his shirt.
By the grace of the gods, he had heard you, quickly releasing you from his maw. You were surprised to see his eyebrows shoot up and his eyes widen.
“Shit, shit, shit. You're going blue! You-”
His voice was lost to you as the all too familiar sensation of death's grip took you. Your face scrunched up in agony until suddenly, pleasantly, you were embraced by nothingness.
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You awoke with a gasp, your heart stuttering back to life. Gods you hated when that happened. How long were you gone for this time? Your eyes flickered open and you were greeted by the sight of Astarion pacing back and forth. He was mumbling to himself but you couldn't make out what he was saying. You rolled to your side with a groan and he finally looked at you.
“You're alive! But you died! Your heart stopped-”
“Shhh. Wake up the whole camp why don't you?” You shakily pushed yourself up into a sitting position. “Not like this is my first dance with death. Lucky for me it's always cut short.” You laughed dryly.
Astarion's brows pinched together as he joined you on the forest floor, “Here I was weighing up the pros and cons of paying that skeleton to revive you, only to find out I wasn't even your first. Is that why he knew you? Dying a common occurrence for you?”
“More than I'd care to admit. My first death was when I was just a babe. Just dropped dead right in front of my mother. I don't remember it but she certainly does. I've been taken to see numerous clerics and healers, all of whom have been stumped. My affliction is no curse, nor is it ill health. It is simply a part of my being. Like my connection to life is weak but strong enough to keep me out of death's embrace permanently. As for Withers, I don't remember meeting the undead scribe prior to our encounter in the crypt.”
Your brows furrowed as you puzzled over the cryptic nature of the now-resident corpse. He was all riddles. There was a moment of silence as Astarion seemed to contemplate his words, “Dying is a wretched experience. I would pay any cost not to go through it again. You and I
 we're more alike than I thought.”
“Tell me about it. All my life I have been compared to vampires. From my pale complexion, my sensitivity to sunlight and a touch my mother said was as cold as death. Only difference between us is that I can't drink blood for nutrients and mirrors are almost useless for you.”
Another moment of silence and then Astarion was up and riffling through the camp supplies, producing a bottle of wine you had recently found. He then grabbed two goblets from his tent.
“I propose a drink to our newly realised mutual understanding and perhaps, an arrangement?”
He poured a glass and offered it to you.
“What would this arrangement be exactly?” You asked before taking a sip.
Astarion swirled the vintage in his goblet, "Let me feed from you, I won't take much, just enough to give me the energy to find something more
 filling. In return, perhaps I can help that pretty little heart of yours keep beating. To be honest, you're useful to me and I need you alive. If you need me to shepherd enemies closer to you so you can sap their life force to fuel your own, who am I to judge?"
You took a moment to consider it, "Well, in that case, feel free to sink your teeth into those we battle."
"I like how you think, after all, they're just as dead." He gave you a charming smile, a flash of fang, before downing his drink, "Now forgive me, as invigorating as you were, I need something more satisfying and you could use the beauty sleep, you look paler than my arm." With that, Astarion stood back up and started stalking towards the forest but he paused and looked over his shoulder at you, "This is a gift you know, I won't forget it."
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The next morning, the rest of your adventuring party were quick to cotton onto the truth of Astarion's nature, probably something to do with the fresh puncture wounds on your neck and the scars on his that mirrored them. Vague threats were made towards him but you were quick to reassure them that it was a) consensual and b) he wouldn't be seeking out any of their necks. You were a tad surprised to see Astarion grab a portion of the morning meal when he didn't need to eat or keep pretending.
You were even more surprised when he unceremoniously handed it to you with a playful jab of: "We need to get you healthier if you're going to be making oh-so-generous donations to myself. You're eating for two now, pup."
"When can I next expect you to come for a nibble?"
"My sweet, there is nothing I'd like more." He placed his hand over his breast in a little half bow, "I'll come to you tonight, when you're snugly wrapped in your bedroll and we can have a little privacy. And this time I'll make sure I'm quiet - we don't want to disturb your rest. You need it more than I do after all. Later on, when we are settled for the day, I'll eat you right up. Just enough to give me strength, and just enough to leave you wishing for more. But, of course, I'll keep your delicate constitution in mind."
You couldn't hold his gaze, unused to such flippant flirtation, so you just shovelled down what you were sure was a lovely breakfast if you weren't too distracted to taste it.
It continued with every meal for the following days, you felt so full, fit to burst. Astarion did visit you most nights. Sometimes you slept blissfully unaware, and on others where sleep could not find you, you had idle conversation in the lead-up to his meal. You were surprised by his confession that you were his first thinking being. The way he talked to Shadowheart about sweet vs savoury hearts and his comment on liking spicy food when Lae'zel threatened him had you thinking he had been feeding like this since the start of his undeath. You felt oddly flattered, almost like it was a privilege to have been the camp member randomly chosen for his first proper taste of living.
As promised, Astarion found ways to lead foes into range of your spells so your grim harvest could be reaped. If there was still life in them afterwards, he always took the opportunity to have a bite to eat. You made quite the duo while the others could focus on the heavy hitters that you did not have the strength to face. This was an especially useful tactic when clearing out the goblin camp. Because although there was the option just to quietly take out their leaders, you hadn't the patience for sneaking about or scheming to get them alone. However, Halsin's complaining when you wanted to go to camp to rest up was getting on your last nerve. You had been up for days with no reprieve. You had run out of spell slots so you could reap no more souls to fuel you. It was all too stressful and you could tell that if you didn't rest soon, everyone would get to witness your lifeless corpse briefly. Frankly, it had upset you that it even happened in front of Astarion. Eventually, you put your foot down and hurried to your tent to rest in privacy.
It wasn't long before that privacy was interrupted. You heard Astarion clear his throat.
"Enter," you called weakly. Gods you hated feeling like this. It took all your energy just to sit up.
He was frowning as he pushed aside the tent curtain and stepped in, "Your heart, I can hear its stuttering. Is there anything that can be done to
 steady it?"
You laughed dryly, "If there was anything I could do, I would be doing it right now. I just need rest, so please let me."
He didn't leave, instead, he sat himself down beside you, "Perhaps some food might help? Gale is making a stew. He seemed rather concerned, said you're paler than usual. Which is true, though you're not quite blue in the lips like last time. Shadowheart wanted to check you over for any wounds but I assured her I couldn't smell any bleeding."
You were touched that your party members showed you such concern, you actually managed to smile. It had been years since you felt so cared for.
"Stew does sound nice but sadly I don't have much of an appetite at this time. So no extra portion."
Astarion stood back up and seemed to hesitate for a moment, "Would you like me to inform them of your condition? It might help if you had extra eyes on you."
"I don't want to be a distraction. Just
 just tell them I have a weak constitution. That should do."
He nodded his understanding then ducked out. You led back down and strained to hear what was going on outside.
"So? How are they? What's going on?" That was Karlach, there was genuine worry in her voice.
"Tav is fine. They just need rest and a good meal. Apparently, they've been frail since birth."
There was a disgruntled huff, "And you've known this the whole time. Is that why you've been hovering around them like a gnat?" Gale said accusatorially. You could imagine him possibly poking the vampire in the shoulder.
"That's true. I found out rather accidentally and they chose to confide in me. They didn't tell you because they thought you would've forgotten our mission and fawned over them like they were a sickly child." He was agitated.
"My my, I didn't take you for the doting type Astarion. Colour me surprised, you actually care about the well-being of your personal blood bank." You couldn't tell if Shadowheart was joking or not.
"Look as much I love idle chit-chat and gossip, Tav would really like a bowl of stew and that's what I came to get. So I'll just say this, when they've recovered from this little episode, do not crowd them. Stress sets it off."
There was silence and shuffling after that. It wasn't long before Astarion returned with a steaming bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. You tried to sit up again but your arms gave out causing you to fall back with a thud and a groan. Astarion sighed, set the stew down beside you and did something you had not expected.
He slid behind you and lifted you to rest against his chest. It felt oddly
 intimate. Sure you had sat in a similar position when he fed while you were awake - but there was an understanding that the closeness was necessary. Was this necessary?
"Please tell me I don't have to feed you." He huffed.
You took a second to collect yourself and tried to will away what little heat filled your cheeks, "N-no I can do it. But uh
 you didn't have to do all this. Thank you."
"I'm just simply keeping up my end of our little arrangement."
"Even though I won't be able to hold up my end until I'm stable?"
"The way I see it, the sooner you're back on your feet, the sooner we can carry on as normal." He placed the bowl on your lap and passed you the spoon. "Now eat up."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
You got about halfway through your meal before you found yourself drifting off into an oddly peaceful slumber, slumped against the vampire. When you awoke the next morning he was no longer in your tent. You donned your robes and joined the others outside. You sat by the fire and Wyll passed you a portion of porridge.
"How are you feeling? Fighting fit I hope."
You gave him a smile, "I'm feeling right as rain today."
Lae'zel made a noise across from you, "If you are so weak that you are useless to us, it would be easier if I put you out of your misery."
Shadowheart glared at her, "Ignore the gith. We'd all be scattered to the winds trying to solve this by ourselves if it weren't for you. Now that we're all aware of your
 limitations we can plan accordingly."
"I agree, perhaps Wyll and I can stay beside you while the others take the battle to our foes," Gale suggested, settling beside you.
You started zoning out as everyone except Astarion talked battle tactics. No, you had focused on him, he was standing off to the side staring at you intently. You could almost see cogs turning in his head. You were snapped out of your daze when he finally spoke.
"By all means, keep the ilk away from our precious leader, just don't get in my way. I have no plans to change how I've been operating because it'd been working just fine until we rescued that pesky bear."
It wasn't long before you all set out again. You came across a priest of Loviatar called Abdirak. He had implored you to go through some sort of ritual pertaining to his goddess of pain and at Astarion's behest you acquiesced. Karlach voiced her disapproval, pointing out that you had only just recovered. Normally you'd try to avoid unnecessary pain but if there was a blessing to be had, you figured you could put on a show. And that you did, you made no effort to hold back your cries of pain as that maniac let loose with a gods damned mace. If you were being honest with yourself, you had been expecting a whip. You couldn't focus on the chatter behind you as the others commentated but you did hear amusement in Astarion and Shadowheart's voices. Needless to say, you promptly downed a couple of health potions after you received the blessing.
You cleared through another room of goblins, dispatching Priestess Gut in the process and taking her worm to shove in your pack. You hadn't quite made up your mind on if you should take the dream visitor's advice. The last thing you wanted to do was put your trust in them and end up a mind flayer faster. As the others looked through the possessions of the dead for anything useful, Astarion took you to one side.
"Darling, I was just thinking about you. Remembering our time together, the things we've shared - and I don't just mean that lovely neck of yours." He chuckled then glanced away briefly only to start fiddling with his fingers when he looked back to you, "I'm growing to like the whole package honestly. And you clearly like me too, so
"
You raised a brow and crossed your arms, "So
?"
"Come now, don't be coy. Your body's already given you away. I could feel it when I was getting lost in your neck." His fingers brushed just millimetres away from your throat, "Your little shivers of excitement. And that delicate blush you had just last night when I held you close. You enjoyed it, didn't you?"
He had crowded your space and you had to break eye contact so that the blush he was on about wouldn't return. Since when did you become so easily flustered? When did he start having this effect on you? You guessed you had always found him to be handsome but it shouldn't bring such a reaction from yourself.
"I'll never tell."
He gently grasped your chin and tilted your face to look at him, he was smirking like a cat who caught the canary, "You don't have to say a thing - I already know how you feel. Because I feel it too." His voice lowered and his thumb brushed along your bottom lip, smearing blood across it, "We could take an evening to ourselves. Get away from camp - get some privacy. I know somewhere quiet. Somewhere intimate. Somewhere we can
" He got impossibly closer, drawing you in with a hand on your hip, all you'd have to do is lean forward ever so slightly to close the distance, "indulge in each other. Feel alive together."
"A less trusting person might think this all sounds very suspicious," Dammit all! That came out sounding breathier than it had any right to!
Astarion gave a quiet laugh and stepped back, "Thank goodness we're all such good, trusting friends, then." He placed a hand over his heart, "On my honour, the only thing on my mind is depraved, carnal lust."
You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat, "Th-that sounds pretty good to me."
He gave you a toothy grin, "Wonderful. I just hope we don't have to wait too long to steal away. But once we can, I promise you a night you'll never forget. See you there, lover." He gave you a wink and promptly joined the others, making over-the-top pleased sounds when he found a golden goblet.
You leaned back against a wall, hand over your chest as you felt your heart thud and pause, literally skipping a beat. This man had already been the death of you once, and he might just be again if the last of the goblins weren't. Shadowheart noticed you in the corner and came over.
"We can take a short rest if you need it. We'll understand. Lae'zel can complain all she wants. I'd be more than happy to gag her for you."
You shot her a small grin, "I'd appreciate that. Now that the druid has been rescued and fucked off back to his bloody Grove, we can take this at our own pace."
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You couldn't steal away that night, far too tired from Volo's botched attempt at removing the tadpole and slaughtering the last of goblins in the camp as none seemed to have the sense just to run the fuck away. Sleep took you as soon as you settled for the night but your dream was unusual. The visitor returned and yet again urged you to utilise the tadpoles you had collected from the slain goblin leaders. However, this being had claimed to be stopping the ceramorphosis from progressing as it should. So you were perplexed as to why they would want you to consume more. You awoke, confused and uneasy. A feeling which was compounded when the others came to you, describing a similar experience.
Astarion sat next to you, wordlessly passing you the hearty celebratory breakfast Gale had cooked up. You accepted it with a smile. You could feel the tension that had built between you from his proposition, you had always been a little awkward about
 sexual encounters. Not many people want to be bedfellows with a necromancer and thus although you had experience, it wasn't much or recent. So you didn't really know how to talk to someone about it. Astarion, however, didn't suffer from the same anxieties as you.
"I think we should take the day to recouperate, especially with Volo unfortunately mutilating one of your lovely eyes. Though the replacement he supplied has its perks, I imagine that kind of
 trauma needs some time to recover from. Perhaps we could visit that Ethel in her cottage. The teiflings aren't in any immediate danger, the Rite of Thorns will have been stopped by that bear of an elf Halsin." He tapped his finger on his chin, pantomiming being in thought, "Now, providing that the 'Dream Visitor' doesn't reappear tonight, perhaps you and I can enjoy a little death." He practically purred those last two words, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "Figuratively speaking."
The implication of what he said was not lost on you and it took all your will not to hide your face behind your hands as your flush finally appeared at full force. Even your ears felt warm! You struggled to respond, mouth opening and closing uselessly.
"That is if you still want to
" His hand dropped away, he actually looked unsure for once.
"O-of course! I uh- I'm just
 not used to uh," you gestured between the two of you, "this kind of thing. Usually, there's a tavern involved, some alcohol and ends with disappointment."
He threw his head back, barking out a laugh. When he met your gaze again, there was something in his eyes you couldn't quite place, an unknown warmth was your best guess in hindsight. "I've been there, Darling. I know exactly what that's like. This is yet another first for me. But trust me when I say, a night with me will leave you far far more than simply satisfied."
Your hands flew up to your face as you held back whatever noise it was trying to escape you. He chuckled and you peered at him through parted fingers, he was grinning ear to ear at the effect he had on you.
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Auntie Ethel was a wash. She was a hag! An actual fucking hag! And she lost all interest in helping you when she saw you only had one eye remaining. There was a suggestion of one of your motley crew offering up theirs, but you weren't about to make them give up a goddamn eye to a creature as vile as a hag. And poor Mayrina, you couldn't stand aside and let her be swindled by the thing. Especially after you had found Mayrina's brothers dead in the swamp. You informed the poor girl of such and the hag had whisked her away. The ensuing battle was hell and you counted your blessing that no one accidentally killed the lass when the hag took her form.
So back you camp you went, still parasite-ridden.
You spent the lead-up to dinner organising your supplies in your camp chest, Karlach kindly offered to help as she found empty backpacks and trunks to organise things into before putting those into the magiced chest. Astarion's pottering about didn't escape your notice. He was gathering pillows and blankets from his tent and strolling into the woods with them only to return empty-handed a short while later and grab something else to disappear with. On his third trip, he caught your eye and flashed you a smirk and a wink. You almost dropped the bottle of dye you had been holding.
"Careful soldier, don't imagine you want custard yellow shoes," Karlach chuckled.
"Yeah, certainly not." You hastily put the dye in the appropriate satchel and then looked to Karlach who had a shit-eating grin.
"I saw that wink, have plans with a certain pale elf, do we? Can't say I blame ya. I would ride him to the Feywild and back if I had half the chance. And you too, until you were seeing stars. But sadly, I can't unless ya want to get third-degree burns in awkward places."
You choked on your own spittle. Was everyone around you so forward? Or were you simply the prudish one of the bunch?
"Thanks for the ah
 compliment. To be honest, I'm out of my depth with this kind of, how to put it, entanglement. But he seems well versed in it. Like it's his forte I guess. Honied words and fleeting touches."
Karlach shuffled on her knees to face you fully, "All the better I'd say, who better to help ya blow off some steam and let loose than a master? Tell ya what, how about I give you some pointers and stuff? Before I was sent to Avernus and had this thing," she gestured to the engine, "put inside me, I used have the ladies and fellas wrapped around my fingers. If you catch my drift." Karlach wiggled her brows and you laughed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.
"I'd like that. I could use the pep talk."
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The rest of the day passed quickly with Karlach imparting as much of her bedroom wisdom onto you as possible. And by the time Gale called everyone to dinner, your nerves were at ease. You had to force yourself not to rush through your meal as excitement filled you. Once done, you wished everyone a peaceful night before making your way through the woodlands in the direction you saw Astarion go multiple times that day, the final time being only moments earlier.
For a brief second, you were worried you had gotten lost until you saw his ruffled shirt hanging from a nearby tree branch. And then he was stepping out from behind it. You gulped, he was utterly beautiful haloed by the moonlight. Maybe he was a moon elf before he was turned?
"There you are," He was a vision of grace as he approached you, of elegance even when partially dressed as he was and surrounded by nature, "I've been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you."
You couldn't help the quip that left your lips, "Since you set eyes on my neck, you mean? You don't have me yet, 'Star." The memory of your first encounter coming to mind.
He chuckled lowly and shook his head, "Don't I? You're here. And I don't think you want to talk." His hand trailed up your arm, "I think you want to be known." His hand cupped your cheek, his other on your hip - once again pulling you into him, "To be tasted."
You gulped, "A
And what do you want?"
He gave a wry smile, "What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our Collective ecstasy." He absentmindedly stroked your cheek, "That's what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me?"
You leaned into his touch, "I want to forget about everything. I want to live."
"Then tonight, Darling, let's live to our fullest."
His lips were on yours in an instant.
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neruro · 3 months
Text
all i want for christmas is...!
✧˚ · . xiao wasn't going to work this christmas! make sure of that!
- character/s: xiao x reader
- notes: modern au, fluff, 1552 words
- message: @perpetualcynicism!! howdy! its an honor to be your secret santa! ive read some of your work and the way you portray xiao had me so intimidated huhu, your writing is wonderful! even if i wrote him in a different way from you see him, i hope i don't disappoint you! take care of yourself!
Even as the world bustles about with colorful lights, Xiao stays unmoving.
Last year, the year before that, and the year before the year before, he'd spend Christmas huddled in his office, doing all the work that no one wanted to do on the 'special day.'
Unfortunately, as the sun set on Christmas Eve, Xiao wasn't doing his work for the week. Though he was in his office as usual, his computer and the countless files he had to look over sat untouched. His hand was itching to get it done, to run away from the warmth of the candles because frankly he didn't deserve it.
What did he do to deserve the happiness that flickered in his heart? The softest of touches that held him? The sound of your voice and the jingle of bells? He hated it. He hated it because he was happy, he enjoyed this when he did little to deserve it.
Just earlier, at the end of the work day, everyone filed out to go spend Christmas Eve with their families. With a cup of coffee, he went to his office to spend the night working before you came in.
"Merry Christmas! Put your work away, we're having Christmas dinner!"
A blanket was put on the ground, artificial candles littering the floor along with a picnic basket. You had listened to none of his requests to let him work in peace, insisting that he should relax.
"You always work overtime, even Mr. Zhongli thinks you should take it easy. I'll help you with your work, don't worry– But just enjoy the night!"
What did he do to deserve everyone worrying over him?
You stood on his office chair, trying to hang a mistletoe on his ceiling, and Xiao stood and panicked from the ground, doing his best to keep the chair steady so you wouldn't fall.
"This is unnecessary," Xiao frowned. "Go spend the night with your loved ones, I'll be alright."
"Hm?" You said. "But you are one of my loved ones, aren't you?"
Xiao felt a rush of happiness at that.
As he helped you set up the picnic you set up in his office, he took a moment to focus his attention on you and you alone.
What was it... Right. Like two ends of a magnet, perhaps. Two people who were opposites, yet fit together and stuck next to each other. As one end of the magnet, Xiao had promised himself he would never detach himself from you. Even if it pained him with doubts, insecurities, he would let you in his heart.
He didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve you.
Despite that fact, you held out the spoonful of tofu and brought it to his lips, treating him like some sort of princess. Xiao thought that it was incredibly far from the truth. If anything, you were royalty to him. Just a word directed from you to him felt like the greatest honor of all.
"Hey," you said hesitantly, "If you don't mind me asking... Why don't you celebrate Christmas? Or at least take the day off..."
Xiao took a moment to think. Should he really burden you with his meaningless worries? He's been living life mostly alone for years, it wasn't like his problems were too important, it was just some thoughts–
"... I feel like I'm in debt," Xiao muttered, pushing his tofu on the plate. "Everyone doing all these nice things... I feel like no matter how much I give, I can't pay them back."
He sighed, looking out the window. It felt like a privilege, he was incredibly grateful to even see the bright lights and the pure snow falling onto the ground. Not to mention what you did for him– Keeping him company for as long as you've known him and celebrating like this? He'd dedicate his life to you at this point.
Xiao looked down, running a hand through his hair. "Like now... I don't know how to pay you back. I could pay you, if you tell me the cost for everything–"
You smiled, gently pushing his arm. You looked so unbothered, it was obvious that this matter didn't bother you as much as it bothered him. He couldn't imagine it. How could you not care at all? Wouldn't be easier if everything could be transactional?
"You don't have to pay me back," you responded. "Your company is enough, don't worry."
His company? Could his company pay back all the time you took to make him happy?
'Then I'll spend my life with you,' Xiao wanted to say. 'You can have my company for as long as you want, until you grow tired of me.'
The meal was soon over, and the two of you ended up laying down on the fluffy carpet, under the mistletoe and right in front of the large window behind his desk. Snow fell slowly, and he could hear the occasional firework in the distance. It felt something of a painting, perhaps. A quiet scene that contradicted the usual business of his mind.
"You know what happens under a mistletoe?" You asked– he could hear the smile in your voice.
"... Do you want me to kiss you?" He asked, looking over to you.
"Do you want to?"
Xiao stayed silent, and undoubtedly having a pink color on his cheeks. He held your hand instead, running a thumb over the back of it. He couldn't tell if you were kidding or not, so he kept to himself, hoping that his touch could tell you everything.
His thanks, his love, his happiness.
Like anyone, he dreamed of a day where he could be happy and free, where he could exist without worry. Ever since he first dreamed of it, he only fell into another spiral of problems. Was something wrong with him? If he could dream of such as carefree life, surely he could live it out.
It was best not to think of it, so he buried himself in work.
When he first befriended you, it felt like one of his dreams.
Though the two of you met at work, your relationship with him didn't feel like the work he did. If you did something good for him, you didn't expect anything back. He could mess up, and you'd still smile at him. You could still dream with him.
He could so easily take everything he'd ever dreamed of from you, but you trusted him.
It felt just like a dream.
What did he do to deserve it?
But Xiao was happy, undoubtedly.
He hoped you were as happy as him.
"Oh! I have gift for you!" You said, digging in your bag. Pulling out a wooden box, you placed it in front of him, an expectant look in your eyes. It looked like a music box, quite well crafted and a little detailing on the sides. (Though, even if it was falling apart, Xiao would love it all the same.)
He opened it slowly, seeing a little figurine pop up. When he hovered his hand over the handle, you nodded your head a bit, and he cranked in the handle.
The little figurine spun, and the song played. Xiao couldn't help but stare, entranced in it. It sounded so familiar, something from a distant memory, but...
"Ah," he whispered. "Venti's song..."
"I had a little help making it," you said. "I hope you like it..."
"I do," Xiao said immediately, looking up at you. This wasn't fair now, was it? You even had a gift for him, and all he did was stay in the same room as you and help you decorate his office. Now he had to think of something really nice to give you. "... I do, I really do. Thank you."
You smiled, giving his hand a small squeeze. "Merry Christmas, Xiao."
You stayed together for a little bit more, enjoying each other's presence. Expressing feelings, taking slow and soft breaths, enjoying the warmth from each other's bodies, enjoying the Christmas Eve. Even if Xiao's past Christmas Eves were filled with the sound of typing and the smell of coffee, he didn't mind having the chance to change.
Especially if it was with you.
Since you didn't particularly want to sleep in the cramped space of Xiao's office, you decided to leave for the night with a promise to spend Christmas day together.
Xiao shifted his weight, looking over towards the box of decorations you were cleaning up. The mistletoe lay just on top of them all. He did have something he could give you, to express his thanks.
"I want to give you everything I have," he mumbled, not quite looking into your eyes. His hand tugged gently at your clothing, as if he didn't wish to startle you in any way. "I love you... I want you to take anything you want from me. All of my being is yours."
Awkwardly holding the mistletoe beside your heads, he sighed softly, hoping to whatever was out there that you didn't want to push him away.
"I'll give you whatever you want, just ask for it," he said. "But... For now, if... If you wish me to, I can give you a kiss. Under the mistletoe."
And so, that gift was the first of many more to come.
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blu3-j · 10 months
Text
Welcome...Home..?
Overworked! GN! Reader x Welcome Home Crew
Chapter 3
Tw: Break down (Reader experiences a small break down), overall a bit of crying
Hoo, boy! This one's a long one! Strap in everybody!
So, as we left off, reader gets introduced to their...interesting situation, but doesn't have much time to process it before having to head in to work. What happens when the reader actually has a moment to process it? But the reader's not the only one in the story! The entire crew is here! So, how are they dealing with this stressful new situation?
Chapter 1 l Chapter 2 l Chapter 3 l Chapter 4
The day had gone by busy as usual. The restaurant was so busy that you were barely able to squeeze in a break. Just a small part of your shift, 2 buses had stopped by within the first few hours of you clocking in. Why, in all the world's name, did people decide to take a bus to a restaurant this early in the morning??? While one of your managers was kind enough, the other never bothered to care about anything more than their basic job, deciding to stay in the back office and never leaving unless a customer requested to see them. Any coworkers that had any sort of complaint or wanted to take a break were directed to the other manager. Thank god the nice manager was on today. It was torture when it was just the lousy one.
As for your classes, you only had one today. When you first scheduled your classes, you made note to keep them simple as they could easily pile up. What you didn't take into account was how busy work would be, and the class itself was labor intensive and required you to talk to so many people. You scheduled this class to be on its own for a reason, but it still dragged you down six feet under for energy.
The day felt as though it was never going to end. Little did you know, a little surprise waited for you when you finally found time to eat your packed lunch. A little note sat on the top of the simple meal, folded neatly with a caterpillar doodle drawn on the top fold.
"Y/N, it's wonderful to get to meet you! I knew you were a hard worker when I saw how peaceful you were sleeping this morning. According to your calendar, you're even busier than me! I noticed how dirty the house was, so I cleaned up a little. I hope you don't mind! You seemed so exhausted, and it's the least I can do to help make your already busy life easier. I hope you have a great day, shrimp! Make your day worth it to you! We're so proud of you, already! Signed, Howdy P."
It was small, but his written words made your day a little bit brighter. You almost found yourself smiling. The paper crinkled as you folded it up gently and put it in your pocket.
By the end of the day, you were once again exhausted---more than that, actually. It wasn't uncommon for you to be barely walking from exhaustion at the end of the day, and as much as you so dearly wanted to go home, the moment you sat down in the driver seat of your car you hesitated to turn the ignition key. The puppets were still there. Waiting for you. While you didn't think they would hurt you, your stomach twisted and churned at the idea of having to face that entire problem that you've been running from all day.
So you didn't.
Rather, you drove to the nearby library. By now the sun was already setting, and a little voice in the back of your mind urged you to go home. "Maybe you'll have some free time to do what you want," it whispered. "Maybe you'll have time to play some video games or go on a walk down that old path you used to love so much." But you didn't listen.
The bell above the door rang as you walked in. Unlike most libraries, it had a small cafe cove in the corner for those like you: completely exhausted and in college. It wasn't too far from the college you attended---just a block or two away---it was maybe a 5--10 minute walk at most from the college's main entrance to there. But you were tired enough as is, and walking was something you could barely do at the moment, so your car rested in its small parking lot. As you trudged through the entrance, the cove caught your attention. "Maybe a little bit of caffeine will do me some good."
Due to the lax nature of the building, there weren't many people that crowded the cove, so it didn't take nearly as long to get your coffee/tea as some places in town did. Not that you would know. This cove was the only coffee place you really ever went to for any sort of coffee or tea. Or at least for fresh and ready-to-drink on the go.
The cup warmed your hands as you held it gently to yourself and slowly trudged to a nearby table in the library. "Maybe I could take this chance to finally read that book I've been hearing so many things about." It was decided, then. You dropped your bag on the floor---a bit harder than you meant to---and set your caffeine salvation down to look for the book. When you finally found it, it had been buried in between the various other books; dusty and barely opened. A librarian friend of yours had once recommended it to you months ago, and now you finally set aside the time to read it.
"The Fall of it All" By Robin Feather
You found yourself quickly enthralled by the book. The story was of a servant named Eline serving princess and future queen Cassandra. The young eccentric princess quickly became close to Eline, and very soon began to allude to more secrets within the castle and its royal government. Upon the discovery of each hidden secret, Eline finds themselves further and further trapped in the middle of it all. Eline never once says a thing in the book; rather allowing the other characters and setting to tell the story around them. It brought a surprisingly well twist to the normal story-telling format. By the time you had ripped your attention from the book it was completely dark outside. That little voice in the back of your mind taunted you. "You can't keep running forever."
You sighed, and put a hastily made bookmark in between the pages. Maybe this would be nice to read at home. "And maybe reading it won't bring its characters to real life so they can live in my house." You chuckled at the thought. How ironic the situation you found yourself in was.
Thud.
You threw your empty cup in the trash bin. You had to rummage through your bag, but at the very bottom hid your library card. You wish you had more free time to come here more often like you originally planned, but you didn't have time for much of anything, anymore. The librarian quickly rang it up for you to borrow, and handed the pristine book back to you. With a final heave, you hoisted your bag on your shoulders.
"I can't keep running forever," you mumbled to yourself. It was completely dark out, with the only light being the occasional street lamp and the light from inside the library peeking out its windows. The cover on the book looked appealing, illuminated by the light's warm glow. If only you could just run away and forget it all.
But even Eline had to face their problems.
"I guess I can face mine, too."
The car ride home was quiet, with the radio softly playing whatever was deemed popular enough to bring in listeners. It was peaceful. Too peaceful. Like the calm before the storm. Your heart sank at the thought of facing those puppets again. They act so real...so..alive. Car headlights blinded you again and again as they passed you by, until eventually they were rarely seen on the road at all. Not many ever came up this far. Buildings turned to empty plains and then to forest as the world blurred by. You turned onto an all too familiar dirt road. Every gravel piece that your tires rolled over felt like another nail in the coffin. Another second closer to a dreadful climax.
The house was dark when you finally rolled in your car and parked. Were they asleep? Do they even sleep? Your heavy shoulders relaxed a little upon the thought. Maybe you won't have to face them, afterall. A gentle tired smile graced your face, and with a final sigh, you pulled out your keys and they jingled as you inserted one in the keyhole.
Click!
It was dark and quiet inside. It almost made you want to believe that what had happened this morning hadn't happened at all. Almost. You couldn't see far into the house, but from what you did see, your bookshelf in the hallway had been organized alphabetically, and the dust and webs had been wiped from the tables and nooks. Why is it so quiet? Finally, you closed the door behind you, engulfing you entirely in an inky black.
"SURPRISE!!!" A chorus of voices overwhelmed you, and the lights were turned on. After you recovered from the scare, you noticed how much more...lively the house was. Home-made banners and streamers adorned the ceiling, and colorful balloons and confetti were spread across the floor. One banner in particular read "WELCOME HOME, Y/N!!!"  It was so colorful. The lights were so warm. And in the middle of it all stood the ones responsible for it. The cast of colorful puppets you had gotten to somewhat know this morning.
"I...uh..." You stammered, wide-eyed at the scene. How do you react to this? Most of them stayed silent and stared at you with expectant eyes. All for one, however. Julie.
"Y/N, you're finally back! Oh my gosh, we were waiting sooooo long! But you're back now! Wally, Howdy, and Barnaby said how scary this all must be for you like how we're all kinda scared right now, so I thought we could throw a surprise party for you! Oh, we have so much planned!" She dashed to your side and tugged on your shirt, beckoning for you to come forward. She pointed to each puppet as she rambled. "Sally has a short play, Barnaby has a comedy act, Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and me made cookies and cake, and Eddie and Wally made the decorations and some of the games!" A single utterance was made from Frank as she talked, correcting her grammar.
"Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and I. Not me, Julie." Julie paid Frank no mind, too enveloped in her excitement to notice him talk.
It all felt like too much. Too much all at once. Your body took a mind of its own as you excused yourself to the bathroom. When you had dipped out of sight into the hallway, you instead found yourself locking yourself in your bedroom. Before you had even curled yourself up on the floor in front of the door, you heard a voice.
"Y/N?" Wally. He always seemed to know when you were distressed. How? He softly knocked on the door. You didn't have the energy right now. You didn't have the bravery right now. "Please talk to me, Y/N." The room went silent as he paused. You refused to move. "Y/N," He continued. "I know this is scary. I'm scared, too. Please, let me in so we can talk. Or maybe just a hug?" Your face felt hot again. And your chest ached. You buried your face in your knees, feeling them slowly begin to grow warm and wet. Wally's voice turned gentle as he leaned into the door. "It's okay, Y/N. I'm right here." A quiet moment rolled by, then the doorknob turned. But it stopped halfway. You had locked it. Staring at the doorknob, you finally meekly unlocked it before shying away from the doorway and hid your face.
Light poured into the dark room as Wally opened the door. "Wally, is Y/N okay?" Julie called out. Hushed voices filled the hallway and into the bedroom from the living room. Wally stared at you for a moment longer before turning back to the hallway.
"I'm going to talk to Y/N for a bit, okay? Everything's going to be okay." He smiled as Julie mumbled an "okay" and he quietly closed the door. The room was engulfed in darkness once more. "Y/N," the small yellow puppet walked forward and crouched down in an attempt to see your down-turned face. "Oh, Y/N. Dearest Y/N." His felt hand reached up to brush the hair out of your face. "Can you talk to me?" You remained silent, barely glancing at his face before looking away. That's when you felt him push your legs away from your torso and crawl into your lap. You gasped and looked at him, but by the time you saw his face, it was buried in your chest, his arms lay limp at his sides. What was he doing? His monotone robotic laughter echoed through the room. "I don't know how to hug." His eyes looked up into yours as his smile widened and his would-be eyebrows furrowed. "Could you show me?" The ache in your chest was too painful. Too much.
And you broke. You don't know how long it was when you finally stopped crying and loosened your hold on him. You don't know how long it was when he finally spoke up after your quiet restrained sobs stopped. "It's okay. I'm right here." He brushed the tears from your cheeks. He didn't like that his hands were getting wet and your tears would soak deep into his felt and stuffing inside, but he could make a small exception for you. You needed the comfort, and as somebody that you're going to be forced to live with until they can go back to Home, it's the least he could do. You were just as scared as he was. So, for now, he could be the braver one.
You looked into his eyes. Despite them being fake, they felt so comforting to look at. The dark black pools that sucked away the light that shined on them felt familiar. You had seen those same dark eyes in many of your stuffed plushies growing up. You had seen those same dark eyes in the teddy bear your great grandmother gave you when you were little. You hugged Wally close one last time, being more careful to not accidentally hurt the little puppet. "Do they even get hurt?" You brushed the thought to the side. Things are going to be okay. So you took in one last long breath, and wiped your eyes. A smile fell on your face as you looked back down to him. His eyes feel so alive. He is alive. He's just like you. You gently pulled him off your lap and stood up and reached for the door. The doorknob felt so cold. The hushed voices continued on the other side of the door. Your stomach churned again.
"It's okay." Wally watched you carefully. His small hand grasped yours and he squeezed. His favorite thing to do, it seemed. "I'm right here with you. You don't have to be scared."
So you took that final leap, and opened the door. Eyes were instantly on the two of you the moment light seeped into the room. Julie was on the couch with Eddie, the short puppet with a star/sun shaped head, and the large blue dog you hadn’t met yet attempting to comfort her. Frank was busy reading another book, but occasionally glancing at Julie, his furrowed brows raising and his frown twitching down a smidge every time he did. Poppy and Howdy were talking to one another closely a bit away from everyone else. Everyone looked to you. Things were quiet. The air was heavy.
Then Julie hopped up from her spot on the couch and ran over. "Y/N!!" She hugged your legs and buried her face. "I'm so so sorry!! I thought if we did a party, everything would be okay and everyone would be happy but you weren't and you ran away and we were all so worried for you and I'M SO SORRY!" She wailed into the side of your pants as she gripped you tighter, apologizing over and over and over. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. So you bent down to her level instead and hugged her close. She really was worried. You found yourself glancing at the others. All of them were.
When Julie's rambling seemed to continue (how in all goodness was she not out of breath yet?) you took it as a sign to interrupt her.
"It's okay, Julie. You're right. I'm scared, too. I was so overwhelmed when I came back that I wanted to run away again. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. I don't even know how you all can even exist here!" You chuckled as you pulled away to look her in the face. Your voice was shaky and quiet, but she could hear you. And she did. Her eyes sparkled. Just as always. Your vision began to go blurry again, and your face felt hot. "I've been trying to avoid you guys all day! When I got done with work and school, I went to the library instead. I was too scared. But I had to come home. I had to face everything. I had to face you guys, and I was too scared to go through with it." You wiped your eyes. Everything was crushing in on you again. Julie touched your arm. You're not alone. She's here. Wally's here. Everyone's here. "But I'm going to be brave now."
Her smile grew, and her eyes sparkled more. How is that even possible? Her arms quickly wrapped around you. Everything felt lighter now. The tension was still there, but things weren't caving in on you anymore. "This is going to take a long while to get used to."
Julie spoke up, her voice barely a whisper. "Then I'll be brave with you."
The rest of the night blurred by. You finally were able to be formally introduced to the final three you hadn’t met this morning. The blue dog is Barnaby, a jokester who loves to make people laugh and have a good time himself. The tall green one with multiple limbs is Howdy, a bodega shop owner that’s named his place the “Bugdega.” And lastly, the little yellow star being indeed a star puppet named Sally. All she wanted to do was be a metaphorical star.
The baked goods that Howdy, Poppy, Frank, and Julie made were...sweeter than anything you had really ever had, and each was decorated in colorful frosting (even the things that didn't need frosting). Barnaby did his best act with the props he could find in your house, and while he got everyone else to laugh, you didn't. So, he made it his mission to get you to laugh. The rest of the night, he made various jokes and acts, and eventually he heard it. A giggle. A laugh. Finally, you were doubled over in laughter, wiping tears from your eyes as he laughed with you. A few games were played while the others tried to keep Julie from making any of them too complicated, complaining that they didn't understand any of it. Mistakes were made, rules were broken, laughter was shared, and people (specifically Eddie) tripped and stumbled throughout the entirety of it.
Finally, the lights were turned way down low as you all grouped on the couch. Eddie had taken the job of directing the lights with a special hand-made spotlight, and Julie and Wally worked to keep the special effects going. As Sally acted her play, confetti acting as flower petals were thrown, backgrounds were occasionally changed during Sally's monologues, and they occasionally acted as extras in the background. You never got to see how it ended. Sally was in another one of her monologues when you found your eyelids getting heavy and the person next to you being extremely comfy.
A soft blanket wrapped around you as with two arms. Sally's voice faded further and further away as you leaned into the person. And with one last quiet sigh, you let the sweet appeal of sleep consume you.
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booboodaddysblog · 7 days
Text
Disappointment
Part two
Tumblr media
Warnings: smut, self pleasure, teasing, cursing, misunderstanding, disappointment, crying, arguing
Words: 4275
——
Why is it so hard to get along in a relationship? One person is silent, the other wants to talk. This is not how it should be.
Colin is a quiet and calm person. He has trouble talking about what he feels, what hurts him. He keeps everything inside, all his pain. He blocks out when something doesn't go his way in his personal life. He is suffocating. This could also be a sign of fear, fear of what might come. He is afraid that he might not be able to cope.
His silence makes people turn away from him. They stop trusting him, and as a result he is left alone, alone with himself and his thoughts.
——-
When he went downstairs he found the living room in semi-darkness. Only the skipping lights from the TV screen illuminated the room. Marg was sitting on the couch, holding the remote control in her hand and switching programs in boredom, not knowing what she wanted to watch. He watched her from a distance and slowly approached. He sighed deeply giving himself encouragement. He knew that this evening would not be easy.
He sat down on the couch next to her and looked at her. He was not interested in what was happening on the TV screen. His attention was focused only on her. He watched her face and the dancing colors reflecting off the screen on her smooth skin.
Marg felt his gaze on her. She looked at him and smiled slightly. She returned her gaze to the screen.
He returned the smile and spoke quietly.
- When will there be pizza. I'm really hungry - wasn't exactly what Marg expected, but he tried to somehow alleviate their gloomy mood.
She looked at him again, this time she raised her eyebrows and replied as if in a huff.
- I received information that the delivery of the pizza will be delayed. They are having some problems, but they should bring it back soon - she sighed quietly.
- Oh, so that's the reason for the delay.... Okay
 hmm
 so
 in that case, can I ask you a simple question? - he looked at her with concern.
- Of course, baby, ask - she smiled at him.
- I was just wondering... would you mind turning off the TV? I'd rather spend this time just with you, do you mind?
He also smiled gently, looked at her with hopeful eyes, thought that spending time just the two of them would help fix the little misunderstanding they had before.
- Sure. There's nothing interesting on this TV anyway. Just commercials - she turned off the TV and put the remote on the table in front of her.
He watched her as she put the remote control down on the table. His body was really tense and he could feel his heart beating quite fast as he tried to calm down. He couldn't help but look at her.
- Would you mind if I asked you to give me a little hug? - he whispered.
- Honey, you don't even have to ask. You can hug me whenever you feel like it - she smiled gently.
- Thank you

He gently hugged her and laid his head on her chest. He wrapped his arms around her. His heart beat faster again. He began to breathe deeply. He inhaled and exhaled. He really needed this now. He only hoped that this evening would already be peaceful. He dreamed of nothing more than cuddling and relaxing after a hard day. He didn't want to mention the unpleasant incident in the bathroom.
- I want you to know that I am not angry with you - she said and started stroking his soft hair. She inhaled the scent and closed her eyes. She sighed, hugging him.
- You’re not? Really... you really aren’t?
He looked at her with a little more hope in his eyes. She wasn't angry with him and that maybe she understood how he felt. He also hoped that he could relax and forget about the unpleasantness. His body relaxed slightly.
- Of course, dear. I understand that you are tired. I want you to feel good, I won't force you to do anything - she kissed him on the nose and smiled broadly.
He returned the smile. Suddenly he felt excitement, her body close to him and her scent still tempted him, but he decided to keep it to himself, for now. He hugged her even tighter.
Suddenly they heard the doorbell ring.
- Oh, it's probably the pizza delivery guy - she got up from the couch and went to open the door.
Reluctantly, he released her from his embrace.
She put the pizza on the table.
- I invite you to the table, dinner is ready - she laughed and sat at the table, waiting for Colin.
He got up from the couch and walked over to the table, sat down and took a deep breath again. He was still trying to get rid of intrusive thoughts. He wanted to somehow make up to her for his bad behavior.
- I would like to apologize to you. I admit that I was a little.... I shouldn't have pushed you away like that. I know that your hormones make you feel more excited....
She was already about to put a slice of pizza on her plate when she looked at Colin and raised her eyebrows.
- Finish the sentence, please. What's on your mind?
She finally put a piece of pizza on her plate and looked at Colin, waiting for an answer.
- I just wanted to say that I'm a little apprehensive about all of this. The fact that I'm going to become a father. It's all happening so fast... I just feel like.... I don't know... I feel like I'm really selfish and I don't know if I'll be able to behave differently... - he took a piece of pizza and took a bite. He was afraid to look at Marg - I just want to make sure it's not a burden on you, or that you feel like I'm pressuring you.... Or that I'm not enough for you... - he finally looked at her, waited for a reaction.
She looked at him and chewed a piece of pizza she had just bitten into. She wondered what to answer. Finally, she swallowed and answered.
- I don't know why you are still upset about what happened in the shower. Forget about it, because nothing happened. It's all because of my hormones. I feel arousal all the time - she bit into the pizza again - I just thought of that... and maybe when you can't satisfy me.... I'll just manage on my own - she said with her mouth full and smiled.
- W
wait, y
you
 you want

He froze and felt his heart speed up again. He simply could not believe what she said. She said it so calmly... he was so confused... his brain had surges on the coils. He suddenly realized that he had a recently bitten piece of pizza in his mouth. Instead of chewing it, he sat with his mouth open and stared at Marg.
She also stopped eating and started looking at him.
- What, you don't like that I want to masturbate when you won't be around to satisfy me?
- I

He swallowed a slice of pizza. He was still a bit thoughtful imagining how Marg was pleasing herself. He tried to find the right words to answer her.
- No, n
no
 I'm not saying I don't like it.... just... why don't you ask me for help? Instead of... do it yourself...
- You usually have the strength to satisfy me. I only want to masturbate when you don't have the strength and are tired. Like today, for example.
She took another slice of pizza from the box and bit into it.
- But I still
 - he sighed quietly.
Maybe she was right, just trying to accommodate him when he felt tired or was too exhausted to have sex with her. It only still bothered him that she just took matters into her own hands... especially if there was another way to do it.
- But what if just.... what if...
- What if what? - she said with her mouth full.
- What if I... what if I help you with this...
His face began to redden slightly when he said this. He could feel the tension coming off him. He tried to overcome the fact that sometimes she could manage without him.... but on the other hand... he wanted to help her... doing it together....
She nodded her head as confirmation.
- Sure. But since you're tired today. I feel like playing with myself, if that's not a problem for you. I can still feel the excitement. If I don't have an orgasm, I won't be able to sleep. I need to get rid of this tension - she bit into a piece of pizza again - If you want you can watch me masturbate - she said with her mouth full.
- But

She made him speechless again. His heart was beating even faster now and he was beginning to feel even more excited. The way she said it... with such lightness... as if it was the most normal thing in the world for her.... He felt very insecure at the thought of doing this together, but it sounded really attractive to him.... But he couldn't decide what he thought about it, excitement and tension were taking over for now.
- But what? - she said again with her mouth full.
- I was
 I was just thinking

It was really hard for him to find the right answer. What she was proposing to him was so dirty and he felt very excited, but his own thoughts were starting to confuse him. At this point, he no longer knew what would be better. Offering to help her, or just sitting and staring with his tongue hanging out. And he knew
 he knew that he would be drooling like a puppy.
- What’s on your mind, Colin? Tell me.
- Y...you... understand that what you just suggested is very.... very hot, right?
He finally said it with a big stutter and an even redder face. He felt the embarrassment take over him, but at the same time he felt excited about the idea now. He just didn't know what to do at the moment.... he was in shock. All he was able to do now was stare at her with his mouth open. He didn't control it anymore.
- So
 Colin
 would you like to watch? - she smirked at him.
- Y
yes, I... I would... - he whispered.
He still sounded a little uncertain. His body felt even more tension. When she said that.... his body was no longer listening to him. He felt that his pants had become really tight. He felt like taking them down. He tried to hide it, but he didn't want to act like a teenager just starting his sex life. But that's exactly how he felt.
- Hmm... tell me more, darling. What do you think about this idea? Did you swallow your tongue or what? I know how you can talk dirty. Don't pretend to be such a saint now. Make some effort - she smiled sweetly at him.
- To be honest... - swallowed his saliva loudly - I think it's a great idea and.... I think I will enjoy it very much
 - he grunted - I can't wait.
It wasn't quite what Marg wanted to hear.
- Okay
 Great, I'm very happy. Let's finish eating. We'll go back to the living room. I'll sit on the couch and start touching myself... and you'll sit opposite me, in the armchair... and watch me pleasure myself - she smiled broadly at him.
Colin began to choke and cough. Tears began to roll into his eyes. He hit his chest several times with his fist to start breathing normally again.
- O
okay
 n
now... really n
now? - he looked at her with wide-open eyes.
Once again, he began to imagine the whole situation. The very conversation made him feel that he couldn't stand it any longer. His cock hurt, it was so swollen. He grabbed it through his pants and squeezed it lightly. He trembled and closed his eyes.
- Of course, there is nothing to wait for!
- Oh... okay... I... for now I will just watch....
When he said this, he suddenly felt a little more confident in doing it
 watching her... as strange an experience as it may seem... he never...
He knew that watching her would be hot and it would be something new for him... He just had to calm the excitement in his head and focus on what she was going to show him. He began to breathe deeply.
- Are you okay, Colin? - she walked over to him and grabbed his hand to help him get up from the table.
- Yeah
 yes, I’m fine - he kissed her hand.
- In that case, let's go to the living room - she led him toward the armchair - sit down and relax - she leaned over him and kissed him softly. She stepped back, licked her lips and bit them lightly.
He watched her with his eyes wide open. He was afraid to blink to avoid missing anything. The way she bit her own lips and licked her lips... it made him start to lose his mind. He found that he had to hide the feeling, otherwise his excitement would only increase before anything had a chance to start. Now it was all about Marg, not him.
Marg walked over to the couch and sat down on it. She started right away, did not wait for anything. She began to touch her breasts. She massaged them and slowly slid her hands lower and lower. While she was doing this, she looked into Colin's eyes and watched his reactions.
He definitely liked what he saw. Her subtle touch... but as she began to move her hands farther and farther down, his stomach began to twist slightly as his excitement grew in him. He looked at her in awe, and she didn't take her eyes off him either.
Suddenly she stood up and slipped off her sweatpants along with her panties. She tossed them on the floor. She sat down on the couch again and spread her legs. Colin was shown a beautiful view. Her pink, beautiful pussy was glistening from her sweet juices.
- How do you like what you see? - she asked.
She started to stagger her fingers in small circles around her clit. She licked her lips and began to moan. She accelerated the movements of her fingers.
- I love it... this is just perfect... everything about you is just... so beautiful.
He struggled to keep the sounds of pleasure from leaving his mouth. He felt like touching himself, but he was like under a spell. Marg cast a spell on him. He couldn't move. He felt so excited that he could lose himself in one touch from her.
As she massaged her clit, with the fingers of her other hand she began to massage her pussy entrance. She gently dipped one finger into it and pulled it out.
- Talk to me, Colin - she whispered.
She began to moan loudly and closed her eyes. Her breath hitched.
- U
um... w
what should I... would you like to hear any particular?
He felt his breathing stop. He still felt tempted to just touch himself and even join her, but he still had a certain level of self-control. He preferred to do nothing and say nothing. He felt safer that way.
- Yes... yes... tell me how I should touch myself. I will do anything you want!
She plunged one finger into her pussy and moaned really loudly. She tilted her head back in delight. Her body arched its back. She slid her finger in and out. All the while she massaged her clit.
- Hmm
 well

This evening and this whole situation, made his brain completely stop cooperating with him. Now Marg was giving him the ability to control her movements, but he couldn't say anything. Having momentary power over her body was very tempting. He was so tempted by it that he didn't know what to do say.
- Ohhhh... Colin tell me how should I touch myself! - she moaned loudly again. This time she looked deeply into his eyes.
- Y
you s
should try

He felt his heart beating fast. He never felt shame in these matters. Usually he didn't say it, he preferred to show it... he felt strange... but he had to do it for her, after all, she herself asked for it.... He began to speak, not sure if he could hide his blush. He was glad that the living room was quite dark.
- Y
you should try to use more fingers - he hoped it was just what she expected.
- Oh yes! Yes! - she slid another finger inside her. She cried out in delight. Her back arched again. While doing this, she kept looking into his eyes - Colin start touching yourself. I know you feel like it - she moaned.
- But
 - he was speechless again.
What was wrong with him. He sighed quietly once again. It seemed that she really wanted to see him do it, while she was doing it too. He felt very embarrassed, he didn't have that much courage compared to her, but he couldn't deny that she was right and he wanted to do it too.
- Do it Colin... just like me... give yourself pleasure in front of me!
He felt a great temptation to just do it, only there was something he didn't want to admit... he was ashamed... Finally he let out a deep breath and just had to admit it now.
- But what if I’m not

- You’re not that what? - she moaned so loudly.
- I’m not that good as you are

Marg stopped touching herself for a moment and looked at Colin with a raised eyebrow.
- Don't make fun of me. I know you know how to make yourself happy. Show me, please - saying this, she looked deeply into his eyes and bit her lip.
- I'm not making... I
I'm serious, I'm not that great...
Marg was very tempting to him. The way she looked at him, the things she said to him, and especially the things she did... But he didn't want her to know.... At least not yet, it was something important to him and he wasn't ready to show her something so intimate to him yet.
- Take off your pants and show me how the hell you touch yourself! - she moaned really loudly, she was close to orgasm.
- I

His mind was now a complete mess, the amount of excitement and pleasure flowing through him was almost unbearable. He still didn't know why he was so nervous. After all, he knew how to do it, but he didn't want to show it to her so soon, he felt very ashamed.
- Oh my god! Oh... I'm so close! Take off your pants, pull out your dick and fuck me, Colin! Now!
- After all... a
after all, you were supposed to do it yourself... m
me now... god

- Damn you, Colin! - she shouted at him.
- What did you say? - he looked at her confused.
Colin felt thrown off balance by her sudden change of mood.
She didn't say anything anymore. She stopped paying attention to him. She focused completely on her pleasure. She moaned loudly, her whole body trembling... her back arched hard....
- Oh my god!!
She cried out loudly and reached fulfillment. She closed her eyes and lay down on the couch. Her breath hitched...
- Fuck you
 - she whispered to Colin, who sat with his mouth wide open
 shocked

Colin sat shocked, not knowing what to say. He wasn't able to move... when suddenly he moaned loudly and felt his pants become wet... he came... he didn't even touch himself... He quickly grabbed a pillow and covered his pants. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
- Fuck... - he whispered to himself.
- What happened? Is that what I think just happened? - she looked at him and shook her head in displeasure - oh really fuck you - she covered her eyes.
- Is... is that.... is that all you can say... - he said calmly.
He felt a little hurt by this, her reaction was quite harsh.
- Yes
 you disappointed me
 - she got up from the couch. She picked up her clothes from the floor and started toward the stairs upstairs - I’m going to take a shower and then sleep - she went upstairs, leaving him alone.
He sighed, drew in and let out the air loudly. He felt so many different conflicting emotions after that. He realized that he had screwed up again, but he still wanted to talk to her about it later.... And he felt that he had let her down... again... This made him feel even worse.
——-
- Good night Colin. I love you - she said while being halfway up the stairs - will you come to bed soon? - she asked quietly without looking at him.
Hearing her words, he felt even worse. She was still so loving and sweet. But her voice was sad and uncertain. He felt that he didn't deserve to sleep with her that night.
- No... I will sleep on the couch - he said quietly.
She was silent for a while. Finally, she looked at him. He was still sitting in his chair with his head lowered. He was not looking at her.
- I understand... good night... love... sleep well - she went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Colin heard the click of the lock... she locked the door....
- She locked the door
 wonderful
 - he groaned quietly and covered his eyes with his hands.
He felt guilty about what had just happened. He felt tragic. He slowly got up and walked over to the couch. He sat down on it and immediately lay down. He grabbed a pillow and covered his face with it. He knew that since she had locked the door it meant that he had screwed up all over. But he still hoped that somehow they could get along.
He sat down abruptly on the couch and looked around the living room, thinking what he should do.
- I have to do something now - he said to himself to give himself some encouragement.
As soon as she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it and slid to the floor. She began to cry quietly. What had happened was really important to her. She wanted to show Colin that she was not ashamed to do something like this in front of him. It was to be more of a pleasure for him than for her. She felt stupid and remorseful now. Maybe she had done too much.
Resigned, he lay down on the couch again, his body was exhausted and his mind in a big mess, he felt so guilty about it. He didn't know what to do about it all. He felt like going to her but at the same time he didn't want to disturb her. He couldn't just lie here.... He slowly got up from the couch and slowly walked upstairs and stood in front of the bedroom door.
Marg heard a quiet knock on the door. She got up from the floor and opened it. She looked at him with sad eyes.
- Marg
 I’m so so sorry
 I

He felt so bad that he had brought her to such a state. She didn't deserve it. He was such an idiot and just couldn't understand why he was like this. She was so kind and understanding to him, and he just.... he screwed it up...
- Can I come in?
- Yes
 - she whispered and she moved so he could go inside.
He slowly entered the room, his heart was beating so fast and his breathing was so heavy. He felt that he had to control himself now. He didn't know what to do about the situation anymore, but he had to try.
Marg looked at him and knew he wanted to start a conversation.
- I want to sleep now... I'm very tired. I don't feel like talking.... We'll talk tomorrow - she was silent for a while - will you sleep with me? I don't want to be alone... - she said quietly.
- Sure... but
 I'm really sorry about all of this... - he walked over to the bed and slowly lay down next to her.
She grabbed his hand.
- Good night... I love you - she whispered and closed her eyes.
- I love you too
 - he sighed and closed his eyes.
He tried to fall asleep, but he didn’t stop overthink about every single thing that happened that day. He still felt guilty and ashamed by all that had happened, and didn't know if he would be able to sleep at all that night.
——————
Part one
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tonberry-yoda · 11 months
Note
LAST ONE I SWEAR: Hermes with the Love at first sight thingy? You are the best thank you omgđŸ€âœšïž
Love - Hermes (f!reader)
notes - I havent been feeling 10/10 SO HERE I AM WRITING FOR MY COMFORT CHARACTER IN ROR!!! How can I not?!??!?! It got a little self inserty, BUT I DONT CARE I LOVE HIM SM HOW CAN I NOT?!?!??!?! I'm kinda obsessed with his design tee hee. I had a ton of fun writing this, so thank you for the request!! ily and i hope you have an amazing day <333
word count - 717
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You were just a human. A human that was bored of life.
You sighed and spent your time studying Greek Mythology. You seemed to be very fixated on it recently. It was so interesting, the way that the gods would live. And who knew, maybe they were wonderful people. You laughed at the thought. How stupid. If a god met you, you would probably be dead.
You were especially fixated on Hermes though. He was a god that never stopped showing up in every myth you read. He was fun to read about. He was always saying something witty or just being the most reasonable god. He was the most... human, you supposed.
You only wondered if these stories you escaped with were real at all. You wished that you could meet someone like Hermes.
Walks were close enough to your escape though, especially the woods by your house. They were full and green; very fantasy-esque. You loved them. Especially getting overdressed to go on a walk. A long dress and a pair of thin flats. You would read stories to deer and bunnies that weren't too far off from you and you would sometimes just take your shoes off and stick your feet in the mud.
It was freeing. And it was all you needed.
You didn't mind going there by yourself as often as you did. It was nice.
But it was off putting when you heard a voice for the first time.
"Can I ask why we're all the way out here?" A deep, yet smooth voice said.
You quickly hid behind a rock. You weren't used to hearing anyone out here, so you were definitely scared.
"Oh, come now, my boy," a raspier voice chuckled. "I like visiting the world down here every now and again! It's not like anyone's going to be out here!"
And right as the man thought that, your dumbass stepped on a stick that made a loud ass sound. Great.
"What was that?" The raspy voice said.
"I don't know," the smoother voice said, his tone slow and soft. "Let me go check it out. Stay here."
Your heart dropped and you panicked a bit. What were you supposed to do? You spent so much time thinking that you didn't move an inch, so a head peeked out from the rock.
You and him both seemed to be in shock as your eyes went wide as you looked at each other.
You stood up from your spot and muttered something that was supposed to be an apology, but more sounded like a bundle of words. You were blushing, dammit.
The man in front of you was handsome. Super handsome. He had jet black hair and bright red eyes. He was wearing a black tuxedo and you couldn't help but stare at him.
He did the same though, without your knowing. You in your dress, god, you looked like a fairy out here.
You both must've realized that you were staring for far too long and you both blushed, looking at the ground.
"I apologize, miss," the man bowed at you and looked back up at you with a small smile. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"I didn't mean to scare you." You peeked out from behind the rock and saw that an old man was admiring a butterfly.
"You're beautiful... if you don't mind me saying."
You turned back to the man with shock. "W-Well, you're very handsome."
"Well, I don't want to doddle. I apologize for the scare," he pulled up you hand to his lips and pressed a kiss upon your knuckles. "I do hope you have a lovely rest of your day, though."
You were sad to feel his touch leave, sighing. "Wait!" You called off as he went to walk back to the old man.
The man turned to you, his hair blowing in the light breeze that blew over. "Yes?"
"I never caught your name."
He hesitated for a moment, but smiled. "It's Hermes."
You froze and watched him leave. Oh my god, that was like a dream.
"What was that all about?" Zeus asked Hermes.
"Oh nothing. But love is a funny thing, don't you think, Lord Zeus?"
"Aphrodite can be an awful woman."
Hermes chuckled. "I suppose she can be."
~~~~~
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2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated
~~~~~
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cielie-voss · 6 months
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hi, can I make a request for an eddie fic? Like enemies to lovers where the reader is in a classic school band which is always in a fight with corroded coffin? Thanks a lot :D
You know I hate you, right?
Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - Enemies to lovers
Warnings: swearing, Eddie and Reader being bitchy.
a/n: thank you so much, I loved this one, it's so sweet! I hope you like how it turned out!
If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. đŸ„° Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. đŸ€—
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“If I were your wife, I would poison your coffee!” Her screeching voice fills the cafeteria.
"Oh yeah?" Eddie stands up angrily and stomps a step towards her, "If I were your husband, I'd love to drink it!"
“She doesn’t mean it.” Shrugging, Gareth leans back in denial.
“Oh, she means it.” With a shake of his head, Jeff brings his friend out of his delusion. “And I couldn’t blame her.”
“Nonsense!” Gareth denies and continues to stick to his conviction.
“Jesus Christ, I’m counting the days until I don’t have to put up with this smug behavior from her anymore.” Grumbling, Eddie sits down at the table again, seething with anger at his eternal rival, who, also seething with anger, stomps away from the table.
"And her wannabe metal look... How I'd love to rip the studs off her vest."
“I bet he’d love to rip other things off her,” Dustin whispers to Gareth, unfortunately not as quietly as he intended to, and receives a bitterly angry look from the freak.
“Never in my life! And not in a thousand years and if we were the last two people in this universe!” he explains to his young friend with a disgusted grimace.
"And now? Where should we practice now?” After a few moments of deliberation, Jeff says what everyone at the table was silently wondering. After the water damage to Gareth's house, the garage was blocked. Unless the guys at Corroded Coffin would love to practice between Laundry baskets and boxes full of books. And at the gig in three months, according to rumors, people from the music industry will also be there to scout new talents. So nothing is more important than practice right now.
“So I guess we can forget about the music room,” Gareth sighs and leans back. “Thanks to our Prince Charming here.”
Eddie shoots up next to him indignantly. “Prince Charming?” His mouth opens and closes like a fish on land, trying to counter this sarcastic remark.
“What can I do about her being like that? A stupid, bitchy, snippy, unfriendly, unempathetic, arrogant wannabe alternative bitch?”
“You don't happen to have any more negative Attributes come to mind as these 
”
“Seven, it was seven,” Dustin adds to Jeff’s remark about the line-up of unnecessary adjectives.
An uncomfortable, oppressive silence falls over them as everyone picks at their food thoughtfully.
“Maybe you’ll try again. Just
 nicer?” Gareth suggests after what feels like an eternity, furrowing his eyebrows, ready for another angry tirade on Eddie's part.
“Yeah, maybe you should really try charm. You know, women are into that sort of thing. Flattery, nice words,” Jeff adds.
“Oh, and how do you know what women are into?” With a very exaggerated rolling of his eyes, Eddie turns to his friend. “Besides, I doubt there is even an ounce of femininity in this 
 bitch. And when it does, it's buried deep under a heap of arrogance. No, before I have to deal with her again, hell will freeze over. We'll find another rehearsal room."
XXX
The Hawkins High School music club has always been a tight-knit community, a sanctuary for those who revel in the soothing melodies of classical music. Y/N, with her cello in hand, was the epitome of this world. She thrives on the sweet symphonies that echo through the club's hallowed halls. As for Eddie Munson, lead guitarist of the local metal band and self-proclaimed "Metalhead," he was about to clash with this world in ways he couldn't have imagined.
One sunny afternoon, Eddie and his bandmates strolled into the music club's headquarters, hoping to secure a practice space for the coming months. Despite Eddies reluctance and constant complaints, they managed to talk to him, convince him that this is the only way to find some place to practice. Open confrontation is what they called it. And to keep everything nice and calm, they asked Dustin to help them negotiate.
Y/N, sitting amidst her fellow cellists, raises an eyebrow at the sight of these intruders. Their leather jackets and wild hair stood in stark contrast to the elegant formality she is used to. It is clear from the beginning that Eddie and his bandmates are unwanted guests.
"We need a place to practice," Eddie declares, his voice dripping with defiance.
Dustin added, "Yeah, and we're willing to pay."
“Pay?”, Gareth asks quietly with furrowed brows and leans to Jeff.
The music club's president, a stern guy named Brandon, stares them down. "This isn't a place for your noise," he sneeres.
Y/N's fingers tighten around her cello's neck, her disdain for the interlopers growing by the second. She has always despised their kind—the rebels, the rule-breakers. To her, music was a sacred refuge, and these delinquents threatened to disrupt it. Although she secretly began to find some peace - unlike the one she knew before - in listening to Metallica or even Iron Butterfly.
Eddie, undeterred by the icy glares and piercing remarks, leans in closer to Brandon. "We won't be here forever, just a few months. We won't interfere with your precious little concerts or rehearsals."
Brandon scoffed, his eyes flicking toward Y/N as if seeking her approval. "The answer is no."
Y/N, unable to contain her annoyance any longer, speaks up. “If you won’t take no for an answer, you have to discuss with the principal. And I’m pretty sure, since you’re definitely not his favorite student, he’s on our side. So I’m afraid you have to find another way to practice your 
 noise.” With her hands gesturing around their instruments, she puts on a smug grin.
Reluctant Dustin tugs at Eddie's vest. “Dude, come on. We’ll find another way.”
“Yeah, go on Freaks, find another way.”, she quips and shoos them out with waving hands.
Eddie raises an eyebrow, smirking as he shoots back, slowly walking towards her, nearer and nearer with every word until their noses nearly touch, "Oh we’ll find another way, little Beethoven. And it’ll bother you even more than sharing this room with us, just because I’d love to see the regret and defeat on your nasty, little face."
The room falls silent, the tension between them palpable. Their exchange has caught everyone off guard, a brief spark of some kind of chemistry amidst the hostility. But neither is willing to admit it.
XXX
In the following weeks, Eddie and his bandmates scoured Hawkins for any available practice spaces. Everywhere they went, doors slammed in their faces, and they were met with cold rejection. It seemed the music club's word had spread like wildfire, labeling them as outcasts.
“Shit. Fucking. Bullshit.” Gareth declares, as they leave another unsuccessful negotiation. “The gig is in two months. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know if this is a stupid idea. But
 what about the hellfire club room?” Shrugging, Dustin turns to Eddie with this last resort.
“The-” Eddie takes a deep breath and clenches his hand into a fist, bringing it dangerously close to his face waving around. “The Hellfire Room? Why didn’t we think of this before?!”
Now that a new rehearsal space was found, Corroded Coffin spent every free minute practicing. Of course, to the great dismay of the music club, which was only a few rooms away. Their unruly appearance and the thunderous echoes of their music didn't sit well with the club's traditionalists. A constant battle ensued as to who is louder; Corroded Coffin with their covers of Metallica, Van Halen and Co, or the Music Club with their cello and piano version of Mendelssohn's ‘Song without words’.
One evening, Y/N is practicing with her cello alone when she hears the distant sound of an electric guitar. Curiosity piqued, she follows the music, which stops and starts playing again every now and then, paired with a string of curse words until she stumbles upon an abandoned classroom. There, she finds Eddie, his fingers dancing across the guitar strings, lost in the raw passion of his music and the frustration in not hitting the right tones.
In that moment, Y/N is captivated by the power and emotion in Eddie's playing. It is a stark contrast to the elegance of her cello, but it resonated with her in a way she couldn't explain. She leans against the doorway, silently listening, her earlier animosity momentarily forgotten.
Eddie notices her presence but doesn't stop playing. He smirks and quips, "Enjoying the noise?"
Y/N bites her lip, feeling a strange sense of connection. "It's not noise," she admits, surprising even herself. “And you’re playing it wrong.”
Before Eddie even has the chance to say a word, she continues and takes a step towards him. “Your fingers are too slow. If you would move your index finger faster from here - “ She raises her hand and mimics his hand, still wrapped around his guitar, making it easier to understand for him, “ - to here, you would get the right tone. But either way your finger is too slow, or you just simply don’t know how to actually play guitar.”
Still with furrowed brows, Eddie cocks his head. She’s not wrong. She’s absolutely right. And that bugs him.
“But actually, in my opinion, the latter is the case. Well 
 “
“Woah, woah, woah! Stop, little Beethoven!” He carefully lays down his guitar, then turns to her, raising his hands indignant. “So you are trying to tell me, Edward Munson, lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin, that I can’t play guitar?” Laughing contemptuously he leans forward and grabs one of the little silly pompoms hanging down from her jacket. “You don’t even know what real music is and you have the audacity to tell me how to play my guitar?”
Rolling with her eyes, Y/N brushes off his hand and sighs. “Dickhead.”, she hisses under her breath, reaching out to his guitar. Before Eddies mind has the chance to comprehend what is happening, she wraps her hand around the neck of said instrument.
“See, you play it this way.” Her fingers glide smoothly over the strings, mimicking his previous playing.
With his eyes wide in shock, he follows her actions. She is good. Really good, actually. But of course Eddie is way too proud to admit it, so he rolls with his eyes and laughs.
“And this is how it’s really done.” She continues the song, but plays the right chords. And damn, she was right. That’s why it never sounded good when Eddie was playing.
“You know, you’re really getting on my nerves, little Beethoven.” Ripping his guitar out of her hands, and pushing her outside of the room again, he desperately tries to fight against the butterflies inside his stomach. But this? Damn, without him knowing, his mind decided that this was damn sexy. And he hates himself for feeling this way.
From that day on, Y/N finds herself drawn to the abandoned classroom. She begins to bring her cello along - pretending to feel safer when she isn’t all alone in the school at night practicing-, while Eddie shreds his incredible solos. Every now and then, he even lets her play with his guitar, acting dumb and like he needs some help from her. They still exchange barbs and insults, but there is a newfound camaraderie beneath it all.
One evening, after a particularly intense jam session, Eddie looks at Y/N, who has brought her own guitar this time, his eyes softened. "You know," he begins hesitantly, "you're not half bad on that guitar of yours."
Y/N raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Coming from a Metalhead and lead guitarist, that's a compliment, I suppose."
Eddie grins and for the first time, it isn’t a taunting grin. It’s genuine, filled with a warmth Y/N had never seen before.
As the weeks pass, Eddie and Y/N's secret jam sessions continue. They are enemies turned to unlikely allies, and the more they play together, the more their mutual attraction grows. The music club's rejection has pushed them together, and in the process, they discovered a love for each other's worlds.
And the more he gets to know her, the more he realizes that she isn’t just some wannabe alternative bitch, but a real alternative bitch, listening to Metallica, Mötley CrĂŒe and Slayer in secret. He hates to admit it, but he really starts to have a crush on her. Which, of course, his bandmates and friends start to notice.
One evening, after they played a haunting melody that blended their two musical styles, Y/N leans in, her lips brushing against Eddie's ear. "You know," she whispers and his hand automatically finds its place on her knee, "if I were your wife, I'd make you coffee every morning." What is happening? She never even dared to think about getting near to the freak, let alone imagining enjoying this intimacy she recently has with him. Her heart is beating so fast, he nearly could hear its pounding.
Eddie's heart skips a beat, and the tips of his ears start to turn into a burning red as he whispers back, "And if I were your husband, I'd drink it every day."
Carefully he lets his hand run through her soft hair only to stop at her cheek, cupping her face with his calloused hand. He feels the heat of her breath against his neck as she leans further into his touch. Their lips meet in a fiery kiss, sealing the unspoken bond that has formed between them. The enemies-turned-lovers have found their harmony, a fusion of metal and classical music that was as unique as their love story.
“You know I hate you, right?”, he whispers out of breath between kisses.
“Hell yeah,”, she answers, smiling against his lips. “As much as I hate you too.”
In Hawkins, where strange things always seem to happen, the most unexpected love has blossomed between a Metalhead and a Cello player, proving that even the fiercest enemies could become the sweetest of lovers.
xxx
Thank you for reading! đŸ«¶ If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. đŸ„° Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. đŸ€—
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lovesongbracket · 1 year
Text
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Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.
Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)
Your Song
Written By: Elton John & Bernie Taupin
Artist: Elton John
Released: 1970
Cover included: Ewan McGregor for Moulin Rouge!, 2001
The song was composed and performed by Elton John but the lyrics were written by Bernie Taupin. It originally appeared in his self titled and second album. Elton John hadn’t come out of the closet yet, but Bernie Taupin knew, which is part of the reason why the lyrics avoid using gendered pronouns. In a 2013 interview with Rolling Stone, Elton John said: “What can I say, it’s a perfect song. It gets better every time I sing it. I remember writing it at my parents' apartment in North London, and Bernie giving me the lyrics, sitting down at the piano and looking at it and going, ‘Oh, my God, this is such a great lyric, I can’t fuck this one up.’ It came out in about 20 minutes, and when I was done, I called him in and we both knew. I was 22, and he was 19, and it gave us so much confidence. ‘Empty Sky’ was lovely, but it was very naive. We went on to do more esoteric stuff like ‘Take Me to the Pilot,’ of course, but musically, this was a big step forward. And the older I get, the more I sing these lyrics, and the more they resonate with me.”
[Verse 1] It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside I'm not one of those who can easily hide I don't have much money, but boy if I did I'd buy a big house where we both could live [Verse 2] If I was a sculptor, heh, but then again, no Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do My gift is my song and this one's for you [Chorus] And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world [Verse 3] I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss Well, a few of the verses, well, they've got me quite cross But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song It's for people like you that keep it turned on [Verse 4] So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen [Chorus] And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world [Outro] I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world
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Demolition Lovers
Written By: Matt Pelissier, Mikey Way, Ray Toro & Gerard Way
Artist: My Chemical Romance
Released: 2002
The Demolition Lovers are the couple seen on the cover for MCR’s next album, Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge. This song, along with much of the album, is a prequel to the story of Three Cheers
 in which a man makes a deal with the devil to get his dead lover back by killing 1,000 evil men and giving the devil their souls in exchange for her. This song is most likely where the lover dies. The two “Demolition Lovers” are featured on the cover of the album.
[Verse 1] Hand in mine, into your icy blues And then I'd say to you, "We could take to the highway With this trunk of ammunition, too" I'd end my days with you, in a hail of bullets [Chorus] I'm trying, I'm trying To let you know just how much you mean to me And after all the things We put each other through and [Verse 2] I would drive on to the end with you A liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full And I feel like there's nothing left to do But prove myself to you, and we'll keep it running [Chorus] But this time, I mean it I'll let you know just how much you mean to me As snow falls on desert sky Until the end of everything I'm trying, I'm trying To let you know how much you mean As days fade and nights grow And we grow cold [Post-Chorus] Until the end, until this pool of blood Until this, I mean this, I mean this, until the end of [Chorus] I'm trying, I'm trying To let you know how much you mean As days fade and nights grow And we grow cold But this time, we'll show them We'll show them all how much we mean As snow falls on desert sky Until the end of every
 [Interlude] All we are, all we are is bullets, I mean this All we are, all we are is bullets, I mean this All we are, all we are is bullets, I mean this All we are, all we are is bullets, I mean this [Guitar Solo] [Bridge] As lead rains will pass on through Our phantoms forever, forever Like scarecrows that fuel this flame We're burning forever and ever Know how much I want to show you You're the only one Like a bed of roses There's a dozen reasons in this gun [Outro] And as we're falling down, and in this pool of blood And as we're touching hands, and as we're falling down And in this pool of blood, and as we're falling down I'll see your eyes, and in this pool of blood I'll meet your eyes, I mean this forever!
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luverz-exe · 2 years
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Could I get uhh,, A John Doe (from a game by the same name) × A more flirty, dominant reader?
Yandere John Doe with a Flirty Dom S/O
New Character, hurray! Look, as fun as it is to write SCP, it's nice to have a break in-between, you know? WARNING: Slightly Suggestive, not full blown stuff, but you know, make sure you don't read if you can't handle it if you catch my drift.
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× John Doe is, to put into simple terms, a freak. Not only that kind of freak, but a freak of nature. He does anything in his power to make you like him, and is more than willing to change his personality a tad to make you like him more. Although he can be quite demanding, the very idea that you wouldn't like that in a partner is enough to make him subdued.
× By the way, when I mean a tad, what I meant 'was that the same person''? Body modification can be made if necessary, and he can't help but get rid of these modifications slowly to make sure you get used to it. His personality is also a changeable subject, but more obsessive behaviors will continue to stick out like sore thumbs, no matter how hard he tries. But hey, you still love him for it, right?
× Doe does whatever is necessary to win you over for awhile, but when you flirt with other people he wonders what he could, can, and will do. And while he understands that it's in your nature, you should know better than to do that to anyone but him. He bets they wouldn't let you treat them the way you like treating him, would you? He can do so much more for you, what can they do? Don't you know it's you two against the world?
"How long have they been your...friend? Ah, don't mind me asking, it's just that the two of you looked a bit...close, that's all."
× Your attitude is something to be admired, that's for sure. Doe is something of a control freak himself, you know, he completely understands the appeal. However, Doe gives you all of his trust, and yet none with this realization. Although you can quickly snap him out of it with a few encouraging words and a few light touches.
× While John is a lot stronger than he looks, he can't help but feel weak in the knees, stuttering like a child again, cause gosh you're something alright. You're truly the best thing in his life, so many words of praise, so many ideas swarming his head- he had to calm himself down before continuing his conversation with you, cause damn.
× And while you may not see it, he truly hopes you can at least have an idea of what you do to him. Videos, recordings, anything you want! Just say those words once more into his ear and watch his creepy smile slowly creep up. Maybe even play with his hair while you're at it, see how much of a mess he'll be then.
"Good? M-Me? Well, I don't mind it, just a bit sudden, that's all. You can say it again...if you want to. Please, say it again, and again, and again, and again and again and again andagainandagainandag- "
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reallyrallyauthor · 1 month
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Hello! Hope ur doing well and drinking lots of WATER‌‌‌ I just wanted to ask about the reasoning behind why Anselm calls Birdie Birdie. Idk if you had already posted the reason, if so I am sorry for asking 😔, but I'm just rlly curious.
DRINK WATER OR ILL HUNT U DOWN
I am drinking water!!!!! There's water in beer, right? jkjkjkjkjk. I'm a very hydrated person (despite my extra thirsty appearances).
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As for Anselm and Birdie, that nickname comes from the very first Anselm fic I ever wrote "My Dear Birdie".
Anselm's last name is Vogelweide, which literally translated, has a beautiful meaning. Vogel, is the German word for 'bird' and Weide means 'meadow.'
"But you are so delicate," he had said with a smile as you'd shaken his hand for the first time. "My dear little birdie." "Says a guy with Vogel in his last name," you'd mumbled. He held your hand, put his other on top of it, gently stroking your skin. "My dear birdie, might you know anything about crime?"
And I always thought of it not so much as the Reader being actually small and actually delicate, but more like Anselm being charming and playful, testing boundaries a little... like he's thinking, "I'm very interested in this person. I wonder if they're interested in me. Would this person be willing to play with me? Have a little fun?"
Also, he gives her a nickname right away, which is kind of intimate for someone you just met, but that's Anselm for you.
So, that's how Birdie came to be.
Thank you for asking!!! I don't think I've ever explained why I called Birdie... Birdie!
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And my headcannon is that he was in love with Birdie from the moment they met. He would have liked to sweep her off her feet immediately, but she was different from anyone he'd ever fallen for. He would have put in time to get to know her better, maybe even adjust his life a little so she would immediately have a permanent place in it, if she accepted.
It also would have driven him b-a-n-a-n-a-s that she didn't look at him with any sexual or romantic intention.
Birdie thought of them as just friends, thinking there's no way this guy who has everything, and could have anyone, would want her for a forever relationship. Not in a self-deprecating or sad way, just a matter of fact.
And the first fic, where their sex is memorable and a little comical and a little kinky, was just them really seeing each other. Aligning themselves to each other. It's a trusting, open-to-anything sexual relationship that I admire very much.
Even when I'm cold and dead, you will not be able to rip Anselm Vogelweide out of my rigor-mortis-dead-bony-lifeless hands.
I love him. I need him.
He smells like whatever it is that makes people want to fuck on a private plane. So, sex and money?
The kind of smell that makes you want to lick his neck and who cares who's in the room, unzip your pants and let's just do this here.
He doesn't even try to smell that way. It's just pheromones. He's just walking around like that all day, every day.
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I am eternally grateful that I have found a group of like-minded people who enjoy the strange, dramatic stylings of this handsome man.
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**Anselm Vogelweide masterlist**
**masterlist**
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