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#now just have to finally write cough cough
tiredfox64 · 2 days
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I had an idea, I don't know how good this sounds but in the beginning of the MK1 story when the Lin Kuei trio attack Madame Bo's restaurant as an act to text Raiden and Kung Lao skills, the reader happens to be there as a traveler who also has fighting skills and fights off Smoke and finds out it's a test by Liu Kang who accepts being one of earthrealm's champions but has a hard time trusting Smoke after what happen and Smoke does everything he can to gain her trust?
Trust Me
Prior notes: Halfway through writing this the Ninja Storm theme song played in my head nonstop. I got distracted for an hour just listening to almost all the Power Rangers theme songs Σ( ̄。 ̄ノ)ノ
Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader
Warnings ‼️: A few kicks and punches, we got those from our siblings.
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You travel high and low, far and wide. The lands must be explored and experienced. Your current location? Fengjian Village in China. Quite a peaceful village actually with farmlands that stretch for many miles. You decided to rest for a moment at the tea house. Madame Bo was really nice to you, happy to have a lovely lady like you come in.
Little did you know that she was expecting you.
Lots of different people and personalities around here. You got a show as well. Two men fighting just to figure out who is paying tonight. It must have been serious because they were fighting for their lives. You can understand since the food was amazing.
The sun had set and the cool breeze blew through the tea house. You were finishing up your meal at the same time those two men were about to. In an instant the atmosphere became hostile. You looked up to see a man with silvery hair and gray attire harassing Madame Bo. You watched carefully, wary of this guy’s intentions. You jumped into action once you saw him attack Madame Bo and literally throw her over the balcony.
His eyes turned to you when he saw you running towards him. You were surprised by the smoke bomb he threw down. It made you cough which gave him the opportunity to attack you, causing you to hit the floor.
“You are brave, but against us? You are in over your head.” He mocked you.
“I don’t care who you are or what your purpose is. You will not be a nuisance to Madame Bo.” You declared before fighting him.
You fought viciously, as anyone would suspect. This guy had a few tricks up his sleeve. Magic that you’ve never seen before. Yet you stood your ground. While you were dealing with him those other two guys were fighting off the other assassins. Oh great there are two more who got some sort of freaky magic. Well at least they are taking care of that.
An amazing spectacle of kicking, punching, and slashing was performed by you and your opponent. After all that you managed to defeat him, leaving him lying on the ground. You moved quickly to check on Madame Bo who was…fine. No, really, she was. Standing up straight and smoking a cigarette like it was a normal Tuesday night. A man with glowing eyes approached you and you finally got the answers you needed.
This was all a test from Lord Liu Kang. You, Raiden, and Kung Lao were chosen to join Earthrealm’s champions. Liu Kang was thankful that you chose to visit Fengjian now since it made things easier.
He explained that the people who attacked were the Lin Kuei and that you fought Tomas aka Smoke. They weren’t thugs but were actually a clan that helped protect Earthrealm. You were still in shock about the whole thing. You couldn’t let your guard down fully even if you now know it was a test.
Liu Kang told you all that the Wu Shi Acadamy will help train you and prepare for the Mortal Kombat tournament. Looks like you will be staying in China for longer than you expected.
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Ever since Tomas fought you he has been dying to talk to you. He thought you did amazing. He really didn’t know what to expect since you were just a traveler. No one had a clue who trained you or even why you were so good at fighting. You must have been a quick thinker since you manage to figure out he was using smoke magic.
The problem is that you were cold to him. You still didn’t trust him even after finding out it was all a test. He would visit the Wu Shi Academy just to get a chance to talk to you, only for you to move away from him whenever you saw a hint of his silvery hair.
Raiden and Kung Lao told you to not hold it over his head. Madame Bo is safe. Hell, she was even in the Lin Kuei once, she’s a tough woman. Nope, you’re still not budging.
“I don’t understand, Raiden. She still treats me like some thug.” Tomas expresses his frustration to Raiden who wants to help make peace between you two.
“It probably didn’t feel good to her to be tricked like that. It may be best to prove to her that she can trust you.” Raiden gave back the best advice he could give.
“But what can I do if I can’t even get close to her.”
Raiden had to think for a moment. The others such as Kung Lao, Johnny, and Kenshi all came around as well since they heard Tomas’ frustration. They didn’t want him feeling bad about what he did since he was instructed to cause a disturbance at the tea house. They also don’t want you holding a grudge against a sweet and cool guy like Tomas.
“I got it!” Kung Lao snapped his fingers, “How about you train with us for some time. She will see that you aren’t so bad after all especially when she sees how calm you are when fighting us. Maybe giving her a gift once in a while will help as well.”
Not a bad plan. It could work. Tomas was on board with this. He didn’t want you viewing him as some thug anymore. You need to see who he truly is and he will do anything to prove it. Operation make you trust Tomas is a go go!
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Tomas asked his brother if it was okay to train with the Shaolin for a bit. Bi-Han couldn’t give two fucks where Tomas would be at so he let him do that.
Now you really couldn’t avoid Tomas. Anytime you decided to train with the other champions he was always there. You grew annoyed by his presence. You couldn’t understand why no one else was upset by that trick of a test.
You also couldn’t understand why he was leaving you bunches of lavender and peace lilies. Okay well the peace lilies should have been a big sign but you weren’t the biggest expert on flowers or their meanings. He would leave them at your door, on your chair, he would even have the guys pass you the flowers just to make sure you would accept them.
And after some time you did. It would be a waste if you kept throwing them out. They were lovely and lavender is useful. You didn’t fully trust him yet but his efforts were chipping away at your stubborn heart.
You started watched as he trained with the others. All those fighting moves you saw before when you fought him. The aggression you felt before when seeing those moves slowly started to fade. You watched as he patiently taught the others some tricks on how to defend themselves. Not just that but he was open to being taught as well. The monks taught him new moves and involved him in meditation. Now would a violent person meditate? Nope, because Tomas is not the violent person you think he is.
You realized maybe you were being a bit too harsh when you heard him speak. His voice was less deeper than when you first heard it. It was just an impression anyways. And without his mask on there is no muffle to it. You listened to how disappointed he was, concerned that you still don’t trust him. He expressed that he is doing his best but he fears that you will always see him as the bad guy.
It broke your heart when you realized you misjudged him. He was putting in a lot of effort and you were turning a blind eye to it before. You don’t know how long he will be training with the Wu Shi and you don’t want to regret not saying anything to him. You want to make things right and the best way to do that was to talk to him.
One day you found him near the zen gardens. A place of relaxation and peace. A good atmosphere for something like this. He was meditating all by himself and you were unsure about disturbing him. He already heard your footsteps, you can’t sneak up on a sneaky person. He turned towards you expecting to see someone like Raiden or Johnny. But no, it was actually you. He was shocked and wasn’t sure what you were doing here. You gently waved towards him before speaking.
“Hi…do you mind if I join you?” You asked softly.
Tomas just stared for a good five seconds before breaking out of his trace. “O-oh yeah sure.”
You thanked him before walking closer. You surprised him even more when you described to sit next to him. Both your hearts were beating fast. Yours because you were unsure of what to say and his because of the same thing. You took a few deep breaths before speaking up.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been kind of cold to you. Maybe even been avoiding you. I just kept thinking back to that night at the tea house and I just thought you were the same guy I fought back then.”
You saying sorry was already the highlight of Tomas’ day. Before he can say anything to you, even to apologize for fighting you, you continued.
“You don’t have to apologize for what happened. I understand it was just a test and no one really got hurt. Well, maybe not physically but I did hurt you by being mean.”
You were picking at your fingers as you looked down at your lap. Now you wondered if he thought of you as the bad person. He doesn’t, he never did.
“We got off on the wrong foot and I want to make it right. Maybe you and I can train one of these days if you are willing to spend time with me.”
“Yes! Yes! Of course I would love to.” Tomas got too excited and covered his mouth, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the garden anymore.
You looked at him all shocked before chuckling quietly. He really was desperate to show you that he is trustworthy. Seeing that it all paid off was too great for him that he had to express it. How could you ever imagine he was some cruel man who purposely beats up old ladies?
Your chuckle made him feel less embarrassed and happy to see you loosen up around him. You seem way chiller than he imagined. He’s excited to get to know you more now. You took his hand into yours and shook it.
“It’s nice to officially meet you, Smoke.”
He smiled at you. The mission was a success. All of this was worth it.
“The pleasure is all mine. But please, call me Tomas.”
After notes: It’s a bad time for me to find out that my favorite show is free on YouTube. Mhm I’m gonna be blasting that good shit on my tv. Anyways I hope you enjoy whoever requested it. I actually thought about this scenario a bit ago but never wrote it down and forgot about it. So looks like you read my mind. Trust me it sounded good to me :3. Adiós!
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ch4osworld · 3 days
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THE PASSENGER
Chapter 7
Words:622 @cherry-4200 @adaizel
Ehi so ik it's been a lot since I last published, i just lost motivation to write, as my aot obsession came back. Honestly I was thinking of dropping this fic for a while, but something posessed me and i decided to continue it. Expect slow updates and probably some oneshots of another fandom(cough cough aot) in the meantime, hoping be good at characterizing the characters as my writing is pretty shitty.
Not proofread!
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"What..." You said, eyes full of dread, and preoccupation. Lucifer didn't dare to say anything else, it was just you and him in silence. Not the comfortable one you were used to, no. This silence expressed dread, fear, hollowness. A thousand questions flooded your mind. What were you going to do? Can this be stopped? Will you fight or will you stay inside like you always did?
You finally mustered to courage to murmur something "What are we going to do?" Lucifer looked at you. You couldn't quite catch what he was feeling. His eyes were dark, full of apathy untill he replied "We're going to fight, that's what me and the others are going go do" what does he mean by him and the others? Was he planning to leave you here? Again? Seriously? Oh no you were going to have none of that "I'm coming too" you demanded coldly. He stared at you surprise "Oh no, nononononono. You are going nowhere near there. That's my business" "Your business? I am technically involved in that mess too it's also my business! I have all the right to go there and do something instead of always being the one at home doing nothing!" you caterwauled
It didn't take long for him to respond to your complains "Can't you understand! You are too important I can't risk you going there who knows what could happen to you! You don't know what you're talking about" "I do know what I am talking about!" You argued back as you defiantly crossed your arms across your chest "And so what if I get hurt! It's not like I am going to die for good anyways. Did you forget that I am technically still a human? There is no risk for me going there" "No risk?! NO RISK?! That is the whole point. You are still a human, do you have any idea how easy it is to hurt you? You should know better than anyone else how fragile humans are!" You were getting tired of arguing with Lucifer, you gave him a glance and shouted "You know what? Forget it, fine i'm not coming then. I'll just stay here acting like a damsel in distress like I always did! Now just leave me alone!" And you stormed off to your room.
Lucifer was in shock, he really didn't know what to do. You said you weren't going to go, but where your words to be taken with truth? He knew you too well, far too well peraphs. He really wanted to stop you, he really did, but oh were you making this hard for him. Deep down he knew he wouldn't make it, that's why he would try any way to make you stay inside. He went around, barricating every and any exit you could have used, before storming to his room and thinking of what else he could do.
You closed the door to your room, carefully locking it with your key. You could hear some rustling outside, who knows what he's up to now. You sighed, slowly making your way to your bed, throwing yourself on it. Ugh he could be so annoying sometimes, so overprotective...so selfish, going to that battle alone without you by his side, helping him. You looked at the fainth light coming from your slightly open window. You knew you couldn't make it, you probably would have died, but you don't care. You are not afraid to die, to sacrifice yourself for the ones you truly loved. You were going to go on that battle, and there was nothing Lucifer could do about it. You slowly closed your eyes, calmness lulling you to sleep, determined for what was to come.
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clumsyclifford · 3 months
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mejomonster · 18 days
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I finished final fantasy vii rebirth and. Some mixed opinions.
The main good points: as a Sequel to original FF7? Its good. The women are all written well (which was a concern considering Kairi and Lunafreya in past games), and everyone was in character just fleshed out more (with 2 slight exceptions). What the game did best was accomplish an open world game, world spanning adventure, stick fairly well to some main highlights from original ff7 (which is what people wanted for ages) and with new stuff thats fun if you like the world, very little wasting of player time (so much better than ff7 remake). It did open world well, pacing well, side quests and mini games well, characters well, combat well, and overall gave the feel of what square enix was maybe Hoping and Wishing to successfully accomplish in a mainline game for years but either hasnt been able to achieve on a technical level or fumbled in the past. (So no time wasting dungeons like ff7 remake, fleshed out open world with stuff you enjoy doing so more than ff15, open world so more than ff13, and combat that feels like things theyve learned and improved on well). How it feels to play? Great, fast paced, no dead time, all enjoyable game you came to play. (With the exception maybe of Cait Siths box mandatory mini game and the aerith in ancient temple magic platforms thing but they both werent too difficult to push through if you dont enjoy them).
The bad? Mostly... if you treat Rebirth as a SEQUEL to original ff7, these arent major issues. They just annoy me as a player of the original ff7 game. Because i know plenty of people will ONLY play ff7 Remake and Rebirth etc, and never know the original characterizations. So 2 characters were slightly unlike their original ff7 selves, and instead more like their Advent Children (and general non ff7 appearances) selves: aerith and sephiroth. Sephiroth's character being NOT like ff7 originals is more irritating personally. Because yeah... i get it. As a sequel to original ff7, this Remake/Rebirth Sephiroth might be from the future (so he is Advent Children esque version of himself), hes had time post losing his way to really get all mysterious and hyperfocus on cloud and be a looming vague pest. But the thing is... in the original ff7 the reason we learn hes used to be a SOLDIER war hero, is so the cast and you are confused why he kills Shinra people. Then you and the casy figure: well cloud remembers sephiroth finding out hes a monster cause of shinra, justifiable for sephiroth to hate shinra. Unflrtunately Sephiroth also decided to hate ALL HUMANS. Then you later find out maybe Jenovas controlling Sephiroth/one with him etc. But the key here is you find out at some point in original ff7 that sephiroths goal is mainly Destroy World because Hes not Human. Rebirth... does not clarify this very important and very BASIC point ever. Maybe it assumes its so basic that as a ff7 fan you should know.. but plenty of new players wont. Rebirth clarifies yes sephiroth may be Jenovas kid... but the whole MOM, im an ancient like Jenova! Oh Jenova isnt an ancient oh well fuck humans anyway! Either way fuck humans ill kill them all! None of those Very basic sephiroth motives are clarified much. I felt Rebirth did good explaining the Gi and the black materia. But to make Sephiroths motives so vague, why he wants to end the world SO VAGUE, why hes in clouds head (the black robes are everywhere but the game HINTS theure sephiroth clones but never actually spells it out eevn though its a BASIC KEY DETAIL). Now... because Rebirth is a sequel, it makes sense... if hes Advent Children Sephiroth he already knows he isnt an ancient, knows hes Jenovas kid, knows he wants to fuck with Cloud specifically now and the world generally but not necessarily so singlemindedly desperate to just kill all humans. So yes, Sephiroth is in character for his future self... but i feel like even with him less SINGLE MINDED and freshly with Jenova, clarifying some basics of his Original old timeline motives... would be helpful to new fans. So it annoyed me. I think the biggest Not Good writing decision in Rebirth was to never fucking clarify Sephiroths original basic goal: im not human like mom, hate humans, kill world. I suspect the writers either thought players KNEW so hinted instead of being on the nose (but to new players theyll just be CONFUSED), or they plan to explain those basic things in game 3. Which seems stupid to me and shouldve been explained earlier.
And Aerith. As a sequel? She remembered the other timeline which explained some moments she was calmer than original ff7. She forgot, then toward the end of Rebirth she seems to have remembered the other timeline again and that she needs to die and X happens etc. So her being calmer based on the plot they wrote for Rebirth? Makes sense. However... i deeply miss her Original FF7 personality where as an Ancient she freaks out a bit LIKE sephiroth, paralleling him, that shes not human, a freak, that it all rests on her as only one ancient left. Their overwhelm parallels each other. Aerith is more scared in original ff7 of being the only ancient, of what it means, of finding out more. That fear is slightly there in Rebirth but WAY LESS. its only a little in cosmo canyon and almost gone in the Ancient Temple. In ff7 expanded universe theyve changed her character over time to a calmer wiser goddess type like in Advent Children, and so yes in Rebirth when she remembers the alrernate timeline it makes sense she'd be calmer like her future self. However... i miss original ff7 aerith. I miss her initial shock, loneliness, fear of the weight on her shoulders, not being sure what to do. Her and Sephiroth, because of Rebirth writing them to know more, act more like their future selves and so. While it is in character and logical to the Rebirth plot. Its also sad to me that anyone who only plays Remake and Rebirth simply wont see what they were like WHEN these revelations were brand new shocks to them, forcing them to react and grow and fear. I dont think Aerith is written bad, i just think because this game is in reality is a Sequel im just personally mourning that it didnt have that as much of the original Aerith's personality who was afraid and discovering. Mostly her Rebirth personality is similar to original ff7s. But in some high tension moments shes way calmer and wiser than in the original. I miss getting to see some of that before to after character growth.
Oh and. The aerith dies scene. Does it make sense in context of Rebirth written as a sequel? Sure. Is it impactful? Not as much as the original. In Rebirth, theres a scene where Cloud is losing control and listening to Sephiroth and attacks Tifa, causing Tifa to fall into mako. That scene is high stakes and emotional and lands WELL. Later in Rebirth, when Aerith actually dies, Cloud has not lost control and isnt the one who killed her. Its fine, as a sequel to ff7 i get the choice to make him able to stop himself from hurting her. But it does make the scene less impactful: now cloud will NOT be blaming himself for her death, will not be struggling with the guilt and fear, and will not be as terrified of losing control again. Since he wasnt the one who attacked her. And since he saw her ghost/something post death, hes not even sad or grieving her. He thinks shes fine. These 2 things will result in a WILDLY DIFFERENT cloud moving forward than the original ff7 one who very much was distraught and horrified he did that. So like... as a sequel its fine these changes were made. But death wise... i wouldve prefered like, cloud drops her from up high qhile struggling with whispers, or doesnt get to her in time and sephiroth stabs her when shes too far away. The way Rebirth did it, cloud was near her, she gets stabbed anyway. It seemed to me almost like the writing was trying to vaguely or softly kill her, like somehow making it vague would make it hurt less. Yeah it did hurt less... but id rather if a character i love dies that its a Worthy Scene for them to die in. A strong meaningful scene that makes me cry, that felt like the loss it is. The Rebirth scene... couldve done its plot as intended and just make Cloud farther away or something and it wouldve been better to me. Maybe the writing point was Cloud thinks its fine, and its still not, and he cant even feel distaught because he cant tell if she died or if things are fine? Thats the only angle i can see where maybe the death scene did what the writers wanted? Anyway. Aeriths moms death made me sob, Aeriths death did not. It is what it is. I feel like Tifa, crying in my heart off screen, the game acting like Cloud like its fine and it looks fine to him but im confused like Tifa aa to why hes (the game) treating it that way. Lol.
Overall? Um 4/5. 8/10? Really solid square enix game, Amazing as far as final fantasy 7 SEQUELS go. It has one main weak spot in treating Sephiroth fully mysterious when a few clarifying details could help the game stand on its own Better (and make Sephiroth a stronger enemy character instead of a vaguer one). The other weak spots are more my personal preference and mourning the parts of ff7 original i miss and had wished were in this, but as this is a Sequel in a parallel timeline i dont feel the parts effect Rebirth on its own merit. It IS the best Square Enix game ive played in ages, at least since Final Fantasy X or XII. I thought it was better than FF13, FF15, definitely better than ff7 remake (i hate time wasting dungeons and bad pacing its a dealbreaker), and than kh3 (although kh3 was quite good for a kh sequel). I get to play FF16 next, which will hopefully be as good as Rebirth or better! Since its also on the PS5 and clearly from Rebirth, the square enix main team can do excellent combat, open world, level design, mini games, side quests, and good pacing now. So i'll just have to see if ff16's story is better. And i am guessing it hopefully will be, since Rebirth as an ff7 sequel has some weirdness to its plot quite typical of ff7 extended universe stories like Crisis Core and Dirge of Cerberus. Whereas ff16 is a brand new plot, so they have nothing preventing them from a tight excellent written story except themselves. I am curious how BIG ff16s world will be though. Because ff7 Rebirths world was MASSIVE and very full of stuff, tons of mini games, cool stuff to find or do or little character side quests. If ff16 also takes me 60 hours to beat the main story its gonna be thw longest final fantasy main title ive ever played.
Rebirth is very replayable if you enjoyed it. I will probably replay ff7 original soon.
#final fantasy vii rebirth#ff7r#lb#rant#oh and shipping discourse lol: if you ship tifa x aerith? GREAT TIME#tifa mourns aerith more than cloud does. tifa aerith ARE IN LOVE. great time for me as an aerti fan and ot4 fan#i do think in theory the writers had aerith x cloud scenes more in Rebirth since aerith dies at the end. and predict game 3 will have#more tifa x cloud scenes. so itll be even by the end. i think everything was in character tho tbh#(in my opinion anyway)#like. aerith x tifa x cloud x zack i ship and they clearly all CARE for each other. zack loves aerith but also saved cloud#when aerith likes cloud. zack is big enough to be happy for aerith and want her to have what SHE wants.#cloud loved zack and was so fucked emotionally when zack died he convinced himself he WAS zack. tifas his childhood crush. aerith likes him#and he gradually does like her back too. (clouds very not interested in crushes tho tbh. hed happilt be in ot3 with#tifa and aerith or ot4 with zack or ot3 with barret too if they just told him to be)#and tifa loves cloud but wisely isnt sure how he feels OR whats going on mentally with him. and is focusing on building trust#that cloud will communicate with her BEFORE getting romantic (shes wise we should all copy her). and she loves aerith. which is goof#cause cloud isnt giving aerith some care she Needs. but Tifa always does give aerith that support.#tifa knows aerith likes cloud. so tifa simply is likinv her 2 crushes (happy to be in an ot3 if aerith and cloud would start it)#but tifas shy and slow going ans values friends MORE so shes not making any major moves until she knows the other 2 aerith and cloud#are emotionally stable (and theyre lol not)#and now shes grieving aerith so :/. my point is: all the romance is written very in character#very similar to original ff7. and if ur a tifa AND aerith as characters fan like me?#its really NICE to have 2 main woman leads in a game (with romance even) who are full characters ON THEIR OWN#and really well written and with relationships outside of cloud. (again... after lunafreya and kairi#i was worried tifa or aerith as love interests might get written BAD or flat or destroyed writing wise#by some shitty square enix writer *cough* who tends to butcher woman characters if theyre love interests)#so im super glad i could just enjoy tifa and aerith#also as a Non romance lover. i enjoyed that Rebirth focused HEAVY on friends but had very little actual romance#flirting yeah sure. but aerith and tifa never even kissed cloud in my playthrough (yay for me)#their crushes are just side details they mention to be direct and communicate (wise of them) but the romance isnt the main point
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marmotsomsierost · 4 months
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This cough is such fucking BULLSHIT, i am goddamn tired of it BEYOND TIRED in fact.
I have coughed so hard that i have fully - FULLY - dislodged my menstrual cup.
Four times.
FOUR.
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sooniebby · 7 months
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I’m back…had a random thought when listening to men moaning and I just had to write it for y’all.. you know the drill, bottom male reader, reader is mentioned to have a cock
Smut fic—in which reader has the terrible experience of being able to read minds. It was fun at first when you first found out at age ten.. but then it just got bad because you couldn’t control it
Hearing your mom’s thoughts about your dad was traumatizing to say the least. As you grew older, you basically learned to tune people out by filling your head with your own thoughts. It usually works.
And it was your usual day in your philosophy class at the university you dreamed of going to.. and it was the usual in that you sat next to this random girl who slept the entire time. Which was good, you didn’t have to worry about her thoughts.
But much to your surprise, someone sat next to you. It was pretty shocking. This guy was “popular” in the sense he was handsome and everyone wanted to be near him.
He usually only sat next to his friends but today he was next to you..? Odd—but you didn’t care that much. You now had to focus on making sure his thoughts didn’t distract you from your professor..
But you did want to take a little peak—just to see what a guy like him would be thinking. At most, you expected him to be focused on taking notes
This guy… is he an actor, you thought to yourself. He looked to be paying attention but the only thing on his mind was sex.. with you.
And not just a fleeting glimpse of sex. it was.. wow, pretty graphic.
He was fantasizing about fucking you in an empty classroom. The classroom you two were in right now. You sprawled on the teacher’s desk, back arched with your legs being pushed towards you.
He was fucking you. Very harsh. He had a very vivid dream of how you’d look fucked out on the table—your moans filling the empty classroom.
His fantasy was solely on you. How you cried, how you arched your back, how you whined his name.. suddenly, he was holding tightly on your neck, lightly squeezing it while his thrusts began to practically knock your breath away.
“You sound so cute.. but you can be louder, yeah?” His fantasy self said to you, reaching down and slapping your ass which earned a scream. Which embarrassingly enough caused you to flinch in real life.
Okay, that’s enough..! You thought to yourself, looking away with a blush. Holy shit. This random guy… was dreaming about having sex with you?! But you guys didn’t even speak.. why.. did he like you?
You couldn’t help but glance over at him, trying hard to not let his thoughts flood your mind again. He was certainly hot—which made sense why a lot girls kept fangirling about him.. Black hair slicked back with gel, a nice nose, plump lips girls were jealous of, a lean body, cat-like eyes..
why was he into you?
He could have anyone.. but he’s thinking about you?
By accident, a slip of his thoughts flooded you again. He wasn’t thinking about sex anymore, he was actually focused on his notes. With a sigh, you decided to believe you were just going crazy and took a sip from your water bottle.
‘His mouth is so small.. would it actually be able to fit around my cock?’
You coughed heavily as water slipped out of your mouth. Much to your shock, the perverted guy handed you some tissues to wipe your mouth. You muttered a thank you, cleaning your chin and mouth.
Jesus, this guy is going to be the death of you.
‘He’s so cute…I hope he likes guys…’
You sighed, happy that he was finally thinking about you normally.
‘Ah.. what if it was my cum instead of water on his lips..? Oh, too much don’t wanna pop a boner in class.’
You could only cough once more in shock and cover your ears. Oh, you needed him away from you fast. But it seemed like he was going to actually start pursuing you soon..
But what you really wondered is if you could survive hearing his thoughts on a daily basis.. and by the embarrassing boner you were sporting right now
Yeah, you were going to be having boners in philosophy often.
‘Does he even like giving blowjobs..? Hope so.. it’d be hot cumming in his mouth..having it overflow.. oops, boner!’
This was going to be a long day…
My first ever one where the guy actually thinks and technically talks… :0! This was fun if you guys want, I’ll definitely expand on it. For now, Imma continue the roommate for tmmr <3
Yoga instructor is coming soon, can’t wait to have an actual fic for him, it’ll be in 2nd person!
Tag list: @nakedtoasterr @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life69 @kiiyoooo @the-ultimate-librarian @iwishtobeacrow (ask to added to my tag list to be tagged in all of my works :3)
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meow-meowo · 2 months
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Yandere Online Friend Headcannons
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Y! Online Friend who's always updated on your posts! Isn't he so sweet to like your pictures even when it's from years ago? ^^
Y! Online Friend who's always available for late-night chats with you! Sure, they have work and assignments the next day but his beloved is more important than that! Don't mind the occasional groan he lets out whenever you guys call each other<3
Y! Online Friend who's that one friend that will flirt with you every chance he gets. He would say the most down bad, diabolical, horny, unacceptable, horrendous, and disturbing flirtatious comments towards you and quickly brushes them off as jokes to avoid making things awkward^^
Y! Online Friend who has an impressive memory when it comes to remembering details about your life! He'd even bring up some shows you've been interested in just so you could rant them about this and that<3 He loves to jerk off to your voice
Y! Online Friend who's always there to offer his support and encouragement whenever you're feeling down or stressed! <3 he would stay up late to chat with you and send some funny cat memes or videos to cheer you up!
Y! Online Friend who gets jealous when you talk to other people in groupchats. W̶h̶y̶ d̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ y̶o̶u̶ p̶a̶y̶ a̶t̶t̶e̶n̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ t̶o̶ h̶i̶m̶ i̶n̶s̶t̶e̶a̶d̶ o̶f̶ t̶h̶o̶s̶e̶ l̶e̶e̶c̶h̶e̶s̶?̶
Y! Online Friend who wishes he could spend time with you in person! Don't get him wrong- he enjoys your online interactions but he wants to see your beautiful face and hear your angelic voice in person too!
Y! Online Friend who writes unsent messages or love letters to you! <3 He pours out his feelings and desires onto every word and yet it remains hidden and forgotten:(
Y! Online Friend who overanalyze every messages you send him<3 He searches for hidden meanings and signs that you might feel the same way about him! He'd dissect your words, emojis and kamojis, hoping to find evidence that his feelings have a chance of being reciprocated<3 He's the type to watch those type of videos on tiktok that goes "5 signs your crush likes you back"
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"And so obviously I was mad at her because of- Are you even listening Rein?"
Your eyebrows raised at him. You were in a call with your online friend Rein and telling him about this girl you hate, however your dearest friend had been awfully quiet... Aside from the occasional groans though! But you just took it as him agreeing
Suddenly, you heard some shuffling and finally his voice can be heard
"Wh- what?? Oh yeah..!! I was just uh- Doing something..." He let out a nervous cough before continuing "Please do continue" His voice was hoarse and you could hear his fast paced breath
You were a bit suspicious but still continued to the story, oblivious to the fact that the other was slowly slipping his hand back into his boxer<3
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To him your voice was angelic. A symphony where he can find comfort, warmth and satisfaction.
In fact he hated talking to others until you came. Oh how he loved how you vent to him about your problems<3 he loves your voice so much that it got him to the situation he's currently in right now.
Small groans and whimpers can be heard from the room. His palm teasing the evident bulge from his boxers as you continued your rant.
His mind was going wild as of the moment—he was humiliated at himself for getting off from your voice that wasn't even hinting anything particularly sexual.
Still, He can't help but entertain his fantasy about you finding out how perverted he actually is and degrading him for it—fuck, he can't take it anymore.
He's getting really impatient...be careful<3 ^^
It's been so long since I posted anything but uhh... :3
I tried to make a full blown scene of him getting at it but I couldn't do it🤡
2K notes · View notes
lady-lostmind · 2 months
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I had the absolute pleasure of getting to write a fic based on this amazing art by @ahhrenata for @strangerthingsreversebigbang! Link to art post Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this! Read the fic on ao3 or under the cut!
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Eddie rolls over with a groan. He feels awful. He can’t breath out of his nose, there’s so much pressure in his head he feels like it might explode and his throat feels like he swallowed a cup of razors. He lets out a truly pathetic whimper, the sound catching in his throat as it turns into a cough. He stretches his arm out, feeling around for Steve and is met with cold, empty sheets. He whines again and finally pries his eyes open. 
“Stevie?” 
He hears Steve pad down the hall and then he’s opening the door to their room, a soft smile on his face as he peers down at Eddie on the bed. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
Eddie sniffles loudly. “I don’t feel good.” 
Steve sighs and leans against the door frame. “I told you not to go out in the cold with Dustin the other night. You didn’t even have a coat.” 
Eddie groans again and flops over, reaching his hand out to Steve. “Come cuddle with me.” 
Steve huffs out a laugh. “You’re whiny when you’re sick.” 
But he pushes off the doorframe and crawls onto the bed, dropping down next to Eddie and letting him wrap his limbs around his body and press his face against Steve’s chest. 
Eddie snuggles in and hums, ready to fall back asleep for forever, or until he can actually breathe again. Whichever comes first. 
Steve’s hand lands on his forehead, pushing his bangs out of the way. “Baby, you’re hot.” 
Eddie lets out a little chuckle, his voice low and raspy from the pain in his throat. “I’m flattered, sweetheart. But I don’t think I’m really up for anything sexy right now, Stevie.” 
Steve swats his arm. “I wasn’t coming onto you, asshole. You have a fever.”
Steve pulls away, like he’s going to get back up and Eddie holds on tighter to him, another whine slipping out of his lips.
Steve rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get you some stuff.” 
Eddie’s hand flops onto the bed as Steve gets up and disappears from the room. Eddie rolls back over, pulling the blankets up and burrowing under them to fall back asleep. 
Eddie wakes up to Steve nudging him gently, holding out a little cup of red liquid. Eddie’s face scrunches up in disgust and he shakes his head with a groan, trying to hide under the covers again. “I hate that shit.” 
Steve rolls his eyes and tugs the blanket back. “Eds, you gotta take this. It’ll bring your fever down. Come on.”
Eddie groans again, but pulls himself up to sit and takes the little shot of medicine with a grimace. 
Steve chuckles beside him. “I’ve seen you drink jager straight from the bottle and you’re making that face over cherry cough medicine?” 
Eddie shoots him a cocky grin. “Jager is good though. That shit tastes like pennies.” 
Steve shakes his head, pulling the covers back up around Eddie’s chin. “There’s tissues and water next to you on the table. You want me to drag the TV in here?” 
Eddie shakes his head, already settling back into the pillows and drifting off. He reaches out a hand to tug at Steve’s wrist. 
Steve sighs, climbing under the blankets with him and pulling him close. “You’re gonna get me sick.” 
Eddie grins and plants a wet kiss to the back of Steve’s hand before he falls asleep again. 
The next time Eddie resurfaces it’s to Steve’s fingers trailing softly through his hair. He sniffs, whining when it makes the pressure in his head spike. 
“Made you some soup, baby. You hungry?” 
Eddie nods and forces himself to sit up, smiling at Steve when he hands him a bowl of chicken noodle. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 
Steve leans over and presses a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “You sure you don’t want the TV in here? We could watch some movies.” 
Eddie shrugs. “I’ll probably just fall asleep five minutes in. But you can bring it in if you’re bored.” 
Steve shakes his head and grabs a book off his side table, wiggling it in the air. “I’m good.”
Eddie’s eyes lock on the book and his jaw drops open. “Are you finally reading The Lord of the Rings?” 
Steve flashes him a big grin and nods. “They’re confusing though. How do you keep track of all these crazy names?” 
Eddie chuckles. “You get used to it after a while.” He sets his empty bowl aside and lays back down, peering up at Steve with big, pleading eyes. “Will you read to me?”
Steve’s face scrunches up. “I’m not very good.”
Eddie scoots in closer, plopping his head onto Steve’s lap. “I just want to hear your voice.” 
Steve’s hand finds its way back into Eddie’s curls again. “Do you want me to start over?”
Eddie shakes his head. “I’ve read them like ten times. You can start where you left off.” 
Steve nods and opens the book, clearing his throat. “‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo.”
Eddie lets the familiar words wash over him. Steve’s voice making him feel safe and warm, the fingers in his hair soothing him to sleep.
Eddie wakes up again, his throat burning and raw. He’s alone in the bed again and it’s dark. The blankets tucked in tight around him, making him over heated, his hair plastered to his forehead. He sits up, reaching for a tissue as a harsh cough racks his body. He groans, wincing as he wipes his mouth. 
Eddie hates being sick. And yeah. He knows nobody likes being sick. Obviously. But he can’t stand it. It makes him feel trapped in his own body. Trapped in his bed. He doesn’t like to sit still for so long. To feel like he can’t do anything. 
The door creaks open, a sliver of light peeking through before it disappears again, Steve’s body blocking it out as he leans in, a sad little smile on his face. “You okay, baby? Heard you coughing.” 
Eddie lets out a pathetic whine, falling against the pillows again, somehow still exhausted even though he slept through most of the day already. “No.” 
Steve pushes the door open the rest of the way, comes up to him and puts his hand on his forehead before making a little tsk noise, and brushing his hair out of his face. “I’m going to get you another dose of medicine.” 
Eddie groans, grabbing Steve’s wrist and shaking his head. 
Steve chuckles, bending down to press a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “What if I bring you a popsicle to chase it with? Make your throat feel a little better.” 
Eddie’s eyes flick up to Steve’s, his eyebrows shooting up. “Not sure your popsicle is going to help my throat much but–”
Steve rolls his eyes with a smile, tugging his arm back and shaking his head. “Would you stop? You’re awful.” He heads back to the door, turning back with his hands on his hips. “Orange or cherry?” 
Eddie whines. “No grape?” 
Steve chuckles. “You and Dustin ate all the grape, baby.” 
Eddie huffs out a breath. “Orange then.” 
Eddie grins as Steve leaves the room. He really hates being sick. But he doesn’t mind this whole Steve-taking-care-of-him thing. That part’s pretty nice. He can’t really remember the last time someone did this for him. Thinks it must have been his mom, when he was still little. Remembers curling up with her on the couch, her humming softly as he fell asleep. 
He doesn’t have a lot of good memories with her. Mostly screaming matches with his dad, and her disappearing for weeks at a time. But there were a few times when things were good. When he felt loved. When he really felt like he understood what it was like to be wanted. And then he’d gone to live with Wayne. And he did his best. And Eddie knows he loves him. Knows he would do anything for him. But he’s a grumpy old man who never thought he’d be raising a kid. His version of taking care of Eddie when he was sick was buying some soup and leaving it on the counter for Eddie to make while he was at work. And that was fine. Eddie is grateful for everything Wayne has done for him. It just wasn’t exactly a lovey household. Not that it wasn’t full of love. They just…didn’t really show it. But he feels the love in everything Steve does. Sees it in the way Steve’s eyes light up when they look at him. In the way his hands always linger. No matter where they touch. Like he never wants to be more than a breath away from him. Like he wants nothing more than to bring him a stupid orange popsicle when his throat hurts to make him feel better. 
Eddie smirks as Steve comes back into the room, cough medicine in one hand, popsicle in the other.
Eddie feels a little better when he wakes up the next morning. Late morning. The room bright with the sun peeking in through the blinds. He’s still sick. Still can’t really breathe normally. His throat is still protesting every time he tries to swallow. But he feels a little less dead. And he didn’t wake up drenched in sweat this time so, hopefully that means his fever is gone. Thanks to Steve’s stupid medicine. Not that he’d ever admit that to him. 
Steve comes in with a plate piled high with toast, and a mug of tea that Eddie is sure has way too much honey in it, for his throat. 
Eddie takes the offered breakfast with a sleepy smile. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 
Steve presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “You’re welcome, baby. You feeling better?”
Eddie shrugs, stuffing half a piece of toast in his mouth. Steve climbs onto the bed with him, grabbing Eddie’s book from the table on his side of the bed, settling back against the pillows.
Eddie perks up, shifting so he can watch the way Steve’s mouth wraps around the words Eddie knows by heart. They’re some of his favorite configurations of words in the world, and Steve somehow makes him love them even more. He loves the slight hesitancy he has as he stumbles over the names, the pauses he adds in strange spots when he’s clearly trying to piece parts of the story together. He can tell he’s really trying to get it. Trying to understand why Eddie loves this so much. Trying to understand Eddie more. Which he’s pretty sure no one else has done before. 
Everyone else just takes him at face value. The loud, over the top, obnoxious behavior, his weird obsessions and interests. People either look at him and want nothing to do with him, or they look at him in awe, like he’s something shiny, something to distract them from whatever bullshit is going on in their own lives. But he’s never had someone look at him like he’s something to be treasured. To dive into and see all the sides of. Until Steve. 
Steve, who he knows hates half of the stuff Eddie is into but still asks questions. Who knows Eddie’s favorite songs and books and movies. Who knows he prefers grape popsicles. Who looks at him in that awestruck way even when he’s quiet. When he’s just existing in their space, not putting on a front or a show. Steve still sees him, even then. 
Eddie leans forward and presses his lips to Steve’s, cutting him off mid sentence. 
Steve huffs out a laugh against Eddie’s lips before pushing him back. “Is my reading that bad?”
Eddie shakes his head and takes another bite of toast, getting crumbs all over the bed as he scooches closer to Steve who lifts his arm to tuck Eddie into his side. 
By day four Eddie is still feeling pretty bad, and worn out, but also bored. He still doesn’t have the energy to leave their bed much but he also can’t stand just laying around anymore. 
He shuffles his way out to the living room, ignoring Steve’s squawk of protest as he spots him from where he’s doing dishes in the kitchen. Eddie makes it halfway to the coffee table before Steve is there, a hand towel slung over his shoulder as he tries to push Eddie back down the hall. 
“What are you doing? Go back to bed.” 
Eddie groans and gestures to his stack of notebooks on the table. “I’m bored, Steve. I want to work on my campaign.” 
Steve nudges him back again, a crease forming between his brows. “I’ll bring them to you. Go lay down.” 
Eddie lets out an annoyed whine but turns and heads back down the hall, collapsing on the bed where he immediately lets out a sigh of relief, the pressure that was building in his head from being vertical backs off as soon as he hits the pillows. Because Steve was right, of course. He should have just asked him to grab his stuff for him. 
Steve comes in a few minutes later with all of Eddie’s notebooks and campaign books piled high in his arms. He dumps them on the bed and disappears again, coming back with a stack of Eddie’s tapes and his walkman, adding them to the mess on the bed and perching on the edge. 
Eddie grins at him. “You’re the best, you know that?” 
Steve shrugs, a little blush flashing on his cheeks. He reaches out and squeezes Eddie’s knee. “Just know you like to listen to music while you work. I’ll bring you some dinner in a little bit, okay?” 
Eddie watches as he gets up to go, smirk firmly in place as he pulls his notebooks closer to him and flips the top one open, trying to jump back into the story he was forming.
Eddie stares down at his notebook, sniffing loudly and tossing a crumpled up tissue onto the floor next to the bed. He taps his pen on the page, trying to will the scene to write itself. A cough works its way up the back of his throat and sticks there, making him hack over and over until he’s pulling in a wheezing breath and falling back against the pillows.
“Fuck me.” He groans out, shoving his notebook away with a huff. He hates being sick. Can’t even manage to focus on his campaign for more than fifteen minutes before he’s coughing and exhausted and–
Steve pushes the door open with his hip, a steaming bowl of soup in his hands and a bright smile that reaches his eyes on his face.
Eddie sighs, pulling himself up to sit against the headboard and lets Steve fuss over pillow placements as he hands over the soup. He stares up at Steve, his chest full of adoration for this wonderful man who works himself into a tizzy because Eddie didn’t make sure he was properly supported by his pillows. Because how is his gorgeous man even real? How did Eddie get so lucky? 
Eddie sets his soup on the side table as Steve leans over him, trying to manhandle Eddie into a position he deems acceptable and Eddie grabs his face, pulling him into a soft kiss, smiling against Steve’s mouth when he feels him melt a little into the touch. 
Steve pulls back with a chuckle, pushing against Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s like you’re trying to get me sick, Eds.” Eddie lets out a laugh and sniffs, trying not to be an oozing, gross mess with Steve so up close and personal. “Sorry. I just can’t help myself when you’re being so sweet.” 
Steve’s face blooms red and he ducks his head with a little shake before standing and grabbing Eddie’s soup off the table again, pushing it back into Eddie’s hands. “Eat your soup, baby.” 
Eddie gives him a little two finger salute and nods, dimple popping on his check. “Yes, sir.” 
Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie takes a big spoonful, making an obnoxiously loud slurp just to see the way Steve’s face scrunches in disgust. 
Eddie wakes up in the middle of the night, coughing and wheezing, trying to catch his breath and be quiet so he doesn’t wake up–
Steve’s hand lands on his back, rubbing gently.
Eddie groans, looking guiltily over at Steve. “Sorry I woke–” His voice catches on another cough, sending him into another fit. 
Steve sits up, hand still on Eddie’s back, the other coming up to sweep the hair away from his face. “It’s okay, baby. Just breathe.” 
Eddie nods, sucking in a deep breath and trying to ignore the tickle in the back of his throat threatening another cough. Steve gets up and heads out of the room, coming back with a glass of water that he hands to Eddie before sliding back into bed, his hand finding its way back to its spot on Eddie’s back. Eddie takes a couple of small sips before setting the glass aside and laying back down, Steve scooches in close, pressing their foreheads together, one hand still on Eddie’s back, the other working its way to tangle in his hair.
Eddie hums reaching up to cup Steve’s face, feeling content as his eyes slip closed. 
The next morning Eddie wakes up feeling much better. He’s still a little stuffy, but his throat doesn’t hurt anymore and his head feels a little clearer. Like the sick haze is starting to dissipate. He stretches, letting out a satisfied groan and slips up to jump in the shower. 
The hot water does wonders for him and by the time he steps out of the bathroom, rubbing his drenched hair with a towel, he feels almost human again. 
He glances over at Steve, still fast asleep in the bed. Eddie’s brow scrunches together and he looks at the clock. 11:15am. 
Huh. Steve never sleeps in this late. He gets up obnoxiously early to work out before he gets moving for the day. Eddie climbs back into the bed and presses soft kisses along Steve’s jaw, smiling when his sleepy eyes peek open at him. 
“You slept in.” Eddie traces his fingers along Steve’s arm. 
Steve lets out a little whimper, pressing his face into the pillows. 
Eddie pushes some hair out of Steve’s face, his fingers grazing his forehead which is blazing. 
Eddie curses under his breath, planting his hand more firmly on Steve’s skin. “Oh no, sweetheart.” 
Steve peers up at him with big, sad puppy eyes, his voice strained and nasally. “I’m sick, Eds.”
1K notes · View notes
assassinsblade · 3 months
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Arrows and Ashes | 3
Azriel's determined to help you get better. You are determined that you are fine.
WC: 3.6k
Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, injuries, fluff, some brief unhealthy coping, self-deprecation.
a/n: If you would like notifications for my writing, you can turn on notifications for the blog @assassinslibrary where I reblog all my fics!
Part 1 Part 2
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Azriel couldn't sleep. All night, he stayed by your side, watching your back rise and fall with each breath. He counted them, making sure you were getting enough air, that you were alive and well. And when that didn’t quell the pounding of his heart and the trembling of his hands, he moved closer and listened for the air leaving your lungs and the heartbeat in your chest.
He tried to read to pass the time, picking up the book he had brought in from your bedroom. But the words refused to sink into his brain, and he found himself unable to focus on anything other than you.
Any time his eyes wavered from your form, anxiety pooled in his chest. His eyelids had even become heavy with sleep, but he forced them open again, his shadows swirling around him in irritation.
He realized while sitting in silence that this was the first time you had been in his bedroom for more than a few minutes. He had known you for centuries, since he had been a child, yet he kept his room very private. You would enter occasionally when dropping something off to him, calling him down for dinner, needing to tell him something, or asking him to accompany you somewhere. But spending a longer amount of time together? Normally that occurred outside of either of your bedrooms.
Now, as you laid in his bed, your hair fanned out on the pillow, Azriel couldn’t help but feel like you were meant to be there. You occupied this space like it was your own, despite the aesthetic contrasting so deeply with your vibrant personality. It made something warm pool in his chest, a feeling that reminded him of coming home after a mission or falling asleep after a long day. A feeling he had pushed down until the past few days. One he had tried to ignore out of fear.
A soft groan pulled him out of his thoughts, and he immediately sat up straighter, his heart faltering.
You started to roll over to face away from the wall, your body moving toward him instead. But Azriel jumped to his feet, laying his hands gently on your arm to keep you from turning onto your back.
“Don’t move too much.”
His voice came out as a whisper, as if the volume could pierce you and cause you more pain.
“Azriel?”
“It’s me,” he clarified, scarred fingers stroking soft circles on your bicep. “I’m here.”
You swallowed, and he could feel your body start to tremble beneath his touch. Adrenaline shakes, he surmised -- your body still recovering from the pain and trauma it suddenly endured.
“You don’t have to say anything. You’re in my room, you’re safe. You’ve just been resting.”
Blinking as if trying to orient yourself, you tried to turn again. His strong hands kept you in place.
“Could you-“ you coughed lightly. “Could you help me turn? I want to see you.”
One of his hands moved beneath your knees and the other cradled your back, just beneath your wounds. He lifted you from the bed slightly, moving your body toward him before releasing your legs and encouraging you to turn on your right side to face him, keeping pressure off your back.
When he finally released his hands, his hazel eyes stared into your own.
“Hi,” you whispered.
“Hey,” he spoke softly in return. His fingers gently moved your hair behind your ear.
Your eyes traced his face in silence before you finally moved your gaze away from him, noting where you were.
“Your bed is cozy.”
Azriel had to control his facial expression so as not to reveal his confusion and concern. That was the first thing you thought upon waking?
He gave you a soft smile instead. “Can I get you anything?”
You shook your head, burying yourself further into the blankets. “No, I’m okay.”
There was no way.
But you didn't elaborate and seemed content enough to stay laying there in silence, no acknowledgement of the life-altering event that had occurred to you.
Azriel didn’t like this at all. He had expected you to wake up in pain, whimpering, asking for him or Cassian or Rhys. For you to have been in a panic over your wings, sobbing and mourning them. He had been prepared to comfort you and hold you and explain how you were safe and that those males had been torn to pieces for hurting you.
But you were acting like nothing had even happened.
It was unnerving, and the shadowsinger for once had no read on the situation.
He eyed you carefully. “I’m going to have to change your bandages in a bit.”
You stiffened, your body tensing at his words before relaxing, your eyes feigning nonchalance.
“Later,” you challenged, closing your eyes again. “Is everyone coming for dinner?”
Azriel couldn’t mask his uncertainty over the situation, his brows furrowed and fingers twitching at his sides. “I’m not sure. Are you hungry?”
“You know I’d never turn down something sweet. Do we have any of those chocolate croissants from our cafe?”
“I’ll check. If not, I’ll have Rhys bring you some.”
You smiled, and he stood from where he was sitting by your form, looking at you one last time before crossing the threshold into the hallway so he can check for something to appease your unexpected sweet tooth.
Your entire behavior was unexpected. You wanted to eat. You were smiling. Not at all hinting at the trauma you had been through.
Azriel’s job was to inflict torture onto those in the dungeons (among other tasks). He knew the trauma it caused — the pain, the nightmares, the way it would permanently break some fae. He wasn’t sure if what had happened had not caught up to you yet, if you were in shock still, or if you were pretending to be okay, unwilling to show weakness in front of him.
Both possibilities made something twist in his stomach.
He forced his feet to move away from where you curled up in bed, shutting the door softly behind him and making his way to the kitchen. It was empty still, save for the bundles of daisies Rhys had dropped off at Azriel’s request. The high lord hadn’t questioned the order for the flowers, only leaving a note with them that said they all love you.
The two large bouquets looked silly now to the shadowsinger. Of course, he was hoping they would make you happy based on your past joy from flowers, but with everything that happened? They seemed so small in comparison.
He shook the thoughts from his head, instead looking around the counters and cabinets for any sign of your favorite treats. When he found none, he wrote a letter to Rhys seeing if he could deliver some of those chocolate croissants per your request. Once the high lord knew you were awake, he would probably do just about anything you asked.
Azriel sighed in defeat, bringing one of the bouqets back to the room with him so he wasn’t empty-handed.
He paused outside of the door, trying to settle his nerves. His shadows only swirled around him in agitation, and he tried to soothe them back to his sides. Only when he went to shush them, though, did he realize why they were unsettled.
A quiet whimper sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a sniffle and a small choked sob.
Azriel immediately opened the door, not hesitating to knock or make sure you were decent. His eyes scanned the room hurriedly, noting the tossed blankets on his bed and the light spilling from the bathroom.
He walked into the entryway, body instinctually turning toward your presence, guiding him toward the cracked door on the left. You shouldn’t be out of bed without assistance, and he definitely didn’t want you to be in there crying alone. He quickly placed the flowers on the desk next to the door before he peered into the open doorway, eyes immediately drawn to your red rimmed ones. You weren’t looking at him, though. Your eyes were turned over your bare shoulder, looking at the reflection of your back in the mirror.
Your back. Azriel's stomach dropped at the sight.
He hadn’t seen it all cleaned up without the bandages yet. It was still somehow just as gruesome as when it was splayed open and bloody on that table.
The wounds were large. Crescent-shaped and still healing. They were deep, gouged into the skin, and anyone else would look at them and call them ugly, an eye-sore, a blemish marking what would have been beautiful skin. Not Azriel, though. Never Azriel. Not when he still ran his own fingers along his scarred palms when nervous.
He slowly inched the door open further, the movement catching your eye and causing you to quickly turn your back to him, your arms crossing to cover your bare chest.
It was silent, your startled eyes searching his own for some sort of reaction. Did you expect him to be disgusted by your? By your scars?
In a way, he was. He didn't think you were disgusting in any way, but the act that was committed against you, the pain you had gone through in those moments, Cassian's memories still flashing in his mind -- that was what disgusted him.
You swallowed, and Azriel was moving before you could say something. He walked around you in a way that was cautious but attempting to be casual as to not put you on edge. He didn't face your back right away, especially as he felt you stiffen as he passed your side, and instead reached toward the counter where one of Madja's creams sat.
Unscrewing the lid, he finally made his presence known close behind you, pausing to let you breathe through your nerves before gently moving the hair that had fallen back over your shoulder. You shivered at the movement, but you didn't flee. You didn't tell him no.
So he gently dipped his fingers into the medicine, bringing it carefully up to the first of your wounds, still red and angry and glaring at him as if he were an enemy. He so very gently covered one edge with the white substance. You flinched at the feeling but still said nothing, so he continued, holding his breath and waiting for you to either lash out or break down.
Neither came though.
You stood still as can be, letting him apply the cream and dress your wounds, even taking the wrap from him and around your front to help hold the gauze in place. When he finally finished, he pulled your hair back from where it laid over your shoulder, letting it flow beautifully down your back, no longer suffocating the space by your neck. Then he walked back around to your front, meeting your gaze immediately and refusing to let it go.
Azriel tried to read what you were thinking, what you were feeling. But you only blinked away the remaining tears as if you were breaking out of a stupor.
You stood up taller, putting a faux smile on your face. "No chocolate croissants? I'm disappointed, Shadowsinger. You know Cassian wouldn't have returned without them."
A sharp pain twisted in his chest at your deflection, at your so obvious false display of contentment.
"Daisy-" he started, voice low and quiet.
"Why don't we go pick some up? You can use your shadows to get us to the gate right?"
"Daisy-"
You made your way toward the door, stumbling and moving slowly with your body's new imbalance and soreness. "Then you can go see everyone else. You shouldn't have to babysit-"
"Daisy."
You halted at his tone. The strong, demanding voice filled with such concern and care.
"You don't have to do this," he said.
He couldn't see your face, but he could almost picture your haunted look as you took a moment to collect yourself, your voice shaking when you finally spoke.
"Do what?"
"Pretend." He sighed. "You don't have to pretend with me."
Taking a deep breath, you shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"You don't have to say anything. I just want you to feel what you need to feel. You have been through a lot, and it's not good for you to just pretend like it didn't happen."
He walked closer to you, approaching you from behind, but you whirled around before he could get too close, gripping the doorway to stop yourself from stumbling.
"Of course I can't pretend like nothing happened. My wings are gone, Azriel. They are gone. My back feels like its been shredded -- like someone took me down to the butcher in Velaris to play with. And every day I will see those scars, feel those scars. I will watch as Rhys, Cassian, and you all fly, and I will forever be grounded. I will never again feel the wind in my hair or leap from the balcony. My body is changed; half of who I am has been taken from me, so I'm sorry if I don't know who I'm supposed to be after that."
By the end of your outburst, you were breathing heavy, choking on sobs that threatened to come up. Azriel watched as you swayed, your still healing and exhausted body needing rest, and he stepped closer.
"You aren't supposed to be anyone," he started, tears filling his own eyes. "You will always be Daisy, no one can take that away."
When he reached where you were standing, you shook your head, backing up into the bedroom as tears began to fall down your cheeks.
"You don't understand-"
"You're right. I could never understand. But I still want to help. Let me help, please."
"You can't help me. You can't go back in time or reattach my wings. I’m no longer me, I’m ruined.”
Azriel lunged forward at your words, propelled by something deep in his chest to correct you, to defend the sweet girl in front of him. His eyes were wild with hurt as he grasped your face between his palms, guiding your teary eyes to his own.
“Don’t you dare say that. You are the same girl who walked out of this house days ago. You are strong and brave and selfless, and everything you have lost is proof of that. You are not ruined, you are everything.”
You only looked at him, lip quivering as you tried to listen to him and hold back your sobs.
You shook your head slightly. “I’ll never be able to fly with you again.”
“I’ll take you.” Azriel vowed, voice deep and resolute. “I will carry you wherever you’d like.”
“I can’t even walk balanced-”
“My shadows will help support you while you recover. I will help support you.”
You looked away from him, tears filling your eyes once again. The words that came next were small, insecure. "No one will want me like this."
It took Azriel a few seconds to realize what you meant, because he could never dream of not wanting you. They all had trauma and nightmares, but you were referencing your scars, your forever-marked body. Madja had been able to close the wounds, but the worst ones had scarred. The lashings that had become infected in those dungeons had scarred. Only days ago you had been scar free save for a few. Not, you had hills and valleys of rough textured skin on your back, abdomen, thighs...
And you were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Every scar a testament to your love and devotion to your family, a testament to your strength. He wanted more than just you, he wanted to worship you. He wanted to lay you down and cater to your every need, to massage and kiss every inch of your healing body, to show you just how beautiful he found you.
He swallowed, passion and an overwhelming amount of love filling his chest. It nearly ached. He directed you to look at him again. Nearly commanded it with his grip on you.
"I want you. In every form, in every life, in every universe. You are everything."
His words were strong, confident, and warm. He was pleading with you to believe him, to see and hear the truth that was right there.
You looked at him, studied him. Azriel knew your teary eyes were watching closely for a crack in his resolute stance. You would find none, though.
Eventually you sniffed, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you asked in a sweet but broken voice, "What if your mate had these faults?"
Azriel didn't even have time to be shocked at the question, because he was immediately retaliating against your self-deprecation. "They are not faults. They are a part of you, of your story, and of your selflessness. They encompass so much of your beautiful heart in them, they could never be a fault."
The insinuation made him angry, but he tried to tamp down those feelings. You needed reassurance, not a reprimand.
You didn't even flinch at his response. Instead, you held his gaze and tried to cover the meekness making its way into your voice by standing up straighter. Azriel held you firm, steadying your balance with his shadows and his own feet against yours.
"And you'd still be saying this? If it was your mate?"
He was surprised the question didn't have that much of an effect on him. Anyone else bringing up mates normally had him tensing, snapping, getting defensive and changing the subject. From you though, It was comforting. Natural.
"Especially if it was my mate. But they would be able to feel all of this from me too. I would make sure they always knew they were wanted. I'd tell them everyday how beautiful they are, I'd get them sweet foods to make them feel better, I'd surprise them with flowers..."
As if the words summoned your eyes to them, he saw you see the giant bouquet of daisies sitting on his desk by the door. Your eyes widened slightly, your brows furrowing and chest rising a bit more rapidly. Azriel tightened his grip on you to steady you further.
He tilted his head to bring your gaze back to his own. "You are wanted, Daisy. I loved you before this, and I love you now. I will continue to love you always. Because you are you."
His words cracked something within you, because the next thing he knew, he was catching your weight against him. Your cheek pressed against his chest and your arms wrapped around his back, and then you were letting out such a heart-wrenching sob that Azriel immediately held you as tight as he could. He wished he could take all of the pain away, all of the haunting memories and nightmares. Any threats or fears, he vowed to fight them for you. Do anything until a smile was back on your pretty face.
"I want you too. I love you too," you mumbled into his chest.
It was only a few minutes before your sniffs subsided, and you pulled back with red splotchy cheeks and swollen eyes, skin wet with tears. Azriel cleared the hair from your face, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.
"You're my mate."
The words were so quiet, Azriel almost missed them.
But he couldn't. How could he? Mate, you had said. Him.
He was shocked enough at the acknowledgement of a physical bond between the two of you that he probably looked absurd, but he wasn't that shocked at the Cauldron deeming you two well-suited. After all, he had cared for you as more than a friend for months now, even if he had tried not to acknowledge it in fear of rejection.
He breathed, allowing his love for you to fill his veins, fill his very heart and soul. And then he met your sparkling eyes, still slightly watery from minutes prior.
And he felt it.
Deep within his chest, it's presence slowly becoming more prominent, was a golden thread. A tether that thrummed inside of him and brought him to you. A tug nearly sent him reeling.
"Your mate," was all he said.
"Yes," you whispered, still a little sniffly. "And I'm yours."
He let out a wet, happy chuckle, tears beginning to coat his own cheeks.
"You're mine," he repeated.
He made sure you were stable before grasping your face in his hands once again, bringing his lips to your cheek, then your forehead, then your other cheek, then your nose, and then your lips. He peppered them all over your face and arms, over the lacerations. He let the warmth in his chest take over and sing a song he had never known. The song escaped his lips in the form of kisses, in the form of I love you, my beautiful Daisy, and I'm so glad you're safe.
Only once he had regained control of his actions, he let his forehead rest on your own.
"You're mine," he said once again. "My everything."
And he knew you felt it.
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aireia · 2 months
Text
pretty. — shopping for your wedding gown went a little wrong.
tw/cw: tooth rotting fluff, not proofread, fluff/crack, reader wears a dress + satoru calls them his future wife —masterlist
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you smile and place your palms under your chin, wondering how you got to this point. your snowy haired fiancé is currently twirling around with a custom tailored wedding gown… which he wasn’t going to be wearing on your wedding day anyway, because he would never hear the end of it from his first year trio. okay, yuji probably wouldn’t have said anything, but nobara and megumi would bully him out of his own wedding. without a doubt, 100 percent.
your mind tried running through the events that had unfolded over the past two weeks, finally stopping at where everything started.
-
“pretty.” 
those were the only words that satoru gojo had to say the moment the both of you had found the perfect wedding dress for you. detailed right down to the final bits of the dress, it matched you perfectly with your favourite flowers weaved into the design, just the perfect length… it was everything you were looking for.
the sound of your soft laughter brought him out of his awestruck expression. “thank you, but as much as i love it, it feels just a little uncomfortable.” you sounded a little disappointed, and satoru couldn’t help but notice every little shift and movement you made… especially that mischievous look in your eyes and grin plastered on your face the moment you thought of a ‘solution.’ 
“maybe you should be the one in a dress at our wedding. i’m sure the strongest can handle a little bit of discomfort.”  
now, you and gojo had known each other for probably more than a decade. he knew better than anyone else that you were joking. but you were basically challenging him with that last sentence, right? 
he abruptly stood up from the couch he was sitting on once you had gotten to changing out of the wedding gown before marching off to one of the nearby employees and asking about any dresses his size, only to be met with the response of, “this is an unusual request, but there are quite a few dresses that would compliment you-” the employee coughed a few times before continuing, “-but we are closing soon, so there might not be enough time to try them on-” 
“i'll take all of them.”
“pardon?”
“including the one my future wife chose. okay thanks!”
the total came up to about 1.2 million yen. for a dress for you and those 3 gowns the employee picked out, it horrified everyone present at the counter. everyone but him, of course. 
back to present time, that’s how you found yourself being the one and only audience member for your beloved’s fashion show. for a good reason, you wanted to chew him out for spending that recklessly. then again, this is the same guy who decides to buy two of the same items no matter how expensive it is “just in case the other one goes missing.”
you sigh softly before turning your attention back onto him. he’s currently trying on the final dress, and has finally got rid of the sunglasses. you can’t help but admit that he actually looks good in the dress, sparkling with all the right types of gems and jewels, paired with his now visible long eyelashes, he looks pretty. 
“so? how do i look!!?” satoru asks with enthusiasm, spinning around you in circles. 
“hmm, maybe i should be the one wearing your suit that day instead,” you jokingly say to him. he understood, laughing before ruffling your hair. 
“as if i’d let you.” a comfortable silence filled the air afterwards, being broken afterwards by satoru confessing, “i dream of seeing you wearing that in front of me at the altar, you know?”
your eyes at this. you weren’t expecting him to say something like that so sudden. 
“i can wear it at night when-” satoru’s sentence was cut off by a light punch to his gut. 
“hell no.”
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by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.
@rninies still can't write fluff unfortunately, writing this fried my brain
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awearywritersworld · 10 months
Text
"do you like me?" "nope."
gojo satoru x reader summary: even yuuji realizes that gojo has a crush on you, but you're oblivious as ever w/c: 1.1k tags/warnings: ft. yuuji and megumi. fluff. super light angst. lots of banter. a lil mutual pining. yuuji and gojo being chaotic. gender neutral reader. a/n: not sure how this turned out, but it was fun to write! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here
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"(l/n)-sensei!!"
you're trying to relax and really, fifteen minutes is all you want, but these days that seems impossible.
you turn your head toward the sparring field just in time to see yuuji fly into a tree about 30 yards away. megumi is already on the ground struggling to get up.
meanwhile gojo is prancing, literally prancing, in the opposite direction. you walk toward the group with a mixture of annoyance and disappointment playing across your features, all your hope for some peace and quiet crushed.
"that was awesome!" the pink haired boy shouts from amid a mess of leaves and branches.
gojo gushes over the praise, his hands pressing against his cheeks. "thank you, yuuji! it's nice to know someone around here appreciates my unmatched strength."
"i don't remember offering to be a part of the demonstration," megumi grumbles, finally rising to his feet.
his demeanor is less than pleased and you glance at him sympathetically before turning to gojo. "you do know that you're an adult, right? like, as in, a fully grown man."
"(y/n)-chaaaaan, you're always so mean to me," he whines, grabbing your hands dramatically. "what have i done to deserve such cruel treatment?"
"today or in general?" you pretend to think for a second. "i seem to remember you waking me up at seven this morning so that you didn't have to go to your meeting with masamichi-san alone-"
"he was mad at me for skipping the last one i had!"
"-and then you hid my phone for almost an hour because i wouldn't give you my last candy bar-"
"i was starving, (y/n)-chan! it wasn't my fault, you know that!"
"-and then you destroyed that tree, which i really happened to like by the way."
his gaze flickers toward that direction, the splintered wood a sad remnant of what it used to be, then throws his arms in the air. "this is so unfair!"
"(l/n)-sensei! did you see?" yuuji calls out, already fully recovered and bounding toward you.
"i sure did." you chuckle at his tattered clothes and unfazed attitude.
"what'd ya think?"
you really can't bring yourself to scold him, not with all the excitement in his voice. "oh, it was certainly something."
"did you hear that, gojo-sensei?" yuuji lights up.
megumi disguises his laugh with a cough. "i don't think that was a compliment."
the boy visibly deflates so you ruffle his hair. "it was pretty cool, i just don't want you getting hurt." that earns a grin, to your relief.
"so i get yelled at, but you're nice to him?" gojo pouts indignantly.
"yes."
"ugh! this is killing me, (y/n)-chan!" he announces before promptly knocking you to the ground, the action something between a hug and a tackle.
"gojo, get off of me!" you yell, though there's a hint of laughter in your voice.
"i can't! not until you forgive me!"
your giggles ring through the air, music to gojo's ears, and your hands push him away as he tries to tickle your sides. you look like two kids, rolling around in the grass and shouting at one another.
yuuji leans in toward megumi, his voice hushed as if he's about to reveal the world's biggest secret. "i'm starting to think there's something going on between those two."
his friend looks at him as if he's grown a second head. "you're just now noticing?"
~~~
you're making dinner in your apartment while gojo sits on the kitchen floor, his legs splayed out and taking up nearly half of the small room. his blindfold had been discarded at one point or another, something he made a habit of doing when it was just the two of you.
"what are we having tonight, chef?"
"me? i'm having braised chicken thighs. i'm not sure about you though," you tease.
you didn't invite him to dinner, he just kind of followed you back to your place after sparring practice. you don't really mind, you never do, not that you'd ever admit it out loud.
"you wouldn't give me your candy bar and now you won't have dinner with me either? today is the worst! is this still about the tree? i told you i was sorry-"
"geez i was just kidding!" you cut him off. "of course you can have some, but only if you get the flour off the top shelf for me."
"i guess that's a fair trade," he reasons, rising to his feet lazily.
the cabinet is just to your left, so his body presses into yours as he reaches up, the contact making your heart flutter.
"thanks," you exhale when he sets it down within your reach.
he doesn't return to his sitting position, just leans against the counter and watches you carefully stir the ingredients in the pan.
"do you like me?" he inquires suddenly.
"nope."
"hm, do you like like me?" he suggests, a small smirk playing at his lips.
"gojo, that's honestly defamatory."
he rolls his eyes playfully. "c'mon, be serious."
"you be serious," you challenge the usually facetious man.
"i am."
resting your spoon on the pan, you turn to face him, unsure if he's just messing with you like always. the room is silent, save for the faint popping of oil, as he waits for you to say something.
"why do you wanna know?"
"'cause i like you, why else?"
your hands gather the fabric of your apron nervously, crumpling it between your fingers while you avoid his gaze. his words strike you as entirely implausible. after all, he's gojo and you're, well, you.
"you... you shouldn't joke about stuff like that."
he laughs at you and it breaks your heart a little, but then you feel two lithe hands on either side of your face. "(y/n), look at me."
you do, albeit apprehensively, and his eyes bore into your own with an intensity you aren't familiar with. it makes your knees feel weak. a smile tugs at his lips before they capture your own, the movement slow and soft.
your fingers reach up to wrap around his wrist, an attempt to steady yourself against him, before one of his hands travels down to your hip and gives it a light squeeze.
you taste so sweet, feel so perfect in his hands, that gojo kicks himself for waiting so long to kiss you. his lips move to the corner of your mouth, across your cheek, then begin to work their way up your jaw. he hums against your skin, satisfied with the breathy noises he's pulling from your throat.
then, the smell of burning invades your senses and you pull away from each other with wide eyes, exclaiming in unison. "the food!"
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kombuuuu · 11 months
Note
NEEDD someone to write more about simp!miles and how he finally asks reader out. I love him w the trope friends to lovers i definitely feel like he would try to ask his s/o out and fail to so many times😭😭
Jitters.
Simp!Miles Morales x Gn!Reader
“Oh my god you’re clueless.”
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THIS WAS LIKE FIVE MINUTES ADTER MY CALL FOR POST LMFAOOO OKAY BBY I GOT U ‼️
2 + 1 Trope? Got that DOWN baby.
The first time Miles had ever met you, it had been the most bland, unimportant, nothing-burger of a day he’d ever been privy to living.
The weight of his classmates gazes settled uncomfortably, but familiarly, onto his back. The whispers they shared with one another having him strain to hear over the beating of his own finicky heart.
A boring, low effort slide show casted on a lazily erased white board was barely keeping him from falling asleep.
And yet his foot wouldn’t stop tapping, the nerves alighting something within him like sparks near a gas leak. The way his heart was beating wasn’t just from the whispers flown around he knows weren’t about him. (He couldn’t help it, what if they are?)
There was something else, like an anticipation boiling his blood vessels. Spidey-sense through the roof and heart rate accelerating.
He stanced his feet, twisting them slowly to shoot out of his seat when ready, as if a crazed, murderous version of him was going to burst the the door at any moments notice.
The handle twisted, his vision honed in, ears sharp-tuned to every movement the muse terry figure made.
And as the door swung open, the breath he was holding left him. Exasperation and amazement at the person in front of him, the harmless, beauty of a person.
“Ah. Mx.[Last Name], Pleasure of you to join us,” His Teacher snarked, adding a hasty ‘finally’ to the end under his breath.
Miles shot the man a dirty look before focusing back onto you, as seemingly everyone had.
You caught people’s attention from the get-go, aura leaking something trusting, something good. Like out of everyone in the world he could talk to, he knows you’d listen in earnest.
You made eye contact with him, your eyes glistening against the light of the projector, he almost sighed.
You looked away again, addressing your Teacher. “Sorry Sir, I didn’t exactly know where to go.” You politely laughed it off, disrespect to authority wasn’t exactly something you wanted on your track record the moment you got to this place.
“It’s—“ He dragged a hand down his face whilst you shuffled in your spot. “It’s fine. Just go sit next to uh.-“
Miles say up a little straighter, a silent competition with the other people in his class crawling for your attention.
“Miles. Morales raise your hand.”
He felt almost smug as he did Small huffs of disappointment coming from his undeserving peers. You smiled at him, waltzing over with a confidence he could only dream, and sat in the chair beside him. He watched you unpack your stuff as the professor drawled on, and when you caught his watchful eye, you waved.
He blushed. The whispers definitely weren’t about him now.
One.
You were putting you books in your locker when a small tap was placed upon your shoulder.
Catching your attention, you stuffed the remaining books inside carelessly and turned to face the subject of curiosity.
The boy you had sat next to your first date stood shuffling foot to foot before you. Nervously scratching his neck and kicking his Jordans.
“Hey I- Uhh.” He coughed, scared his voice would crack in front of you, he almost cringed at the thought. “I’m Miles-“
“Morales. I remember you.” You smiled sweetly up at him, you did remember him. It was no lie, he was kind of hard to forget. “Oh, you do?”
“I mean, you were the only one in that class willing to sit next to a stranger. And you were pretty nice about it too.”
“Uhuh, yeah, that’s me.” Only one willing? With a person like you showing up? The entire room was glaring at him.
“Thanks for that, by the way.”
You closed your locker and turned back to him.
“Yeah, no problem. It was no big deal, really.” He rushed out, your presence alone making him nervous.
“Anyways I-,” he cleared his throat again. “I was wondering if you’d y’know..” He looked at you through his thick eyelashes, god he was pretty. “I’d…?”
“Wannahangoutsometime.”
You stumped for a moment, trying to figure out what he’d just said before laughing lightly. He swears he saw heaven the second you’d smiled at him.
“Yeah we can hang out, right now actually!”
Grabbing his arm and walking with him as you chatted. His breathing stuttered, unprepared for your misunderstanding of his intentions, but okay with the outcome. Having your arm linked with his, pulling him wherever you wanted to go like some puppy. Giggling and whispering to him something he couldn’t pay attention to over the sweetened sound of your voice. He was pretty damn okay with it.
Two.
It had been around three months since you had met Miles. And although you hated the thought, you only had your mean professor to thank. So, kudos to him.
You were into the boy, no doubt. His charming personality additional to the kind of dorky thing he had going on, you loved it. A month after the initial meeting, he had finally got the courage to ask you to hang out with him. It was probably the most adorable thing you’d ever seen watching him stumble upon his words.
Now you sat with him on the rooftop of his apartment building.
A picnic blanket had been laid for the both of you by Miles himself, and his mother had made snacks.
You had just met his mother, Rio. The sweetest woman you’d probably ever met. And by the way Miles and Rio interacted, you could only think how good of a man he was.
You can always tell the intentions of a man, by his treatment of his mother.
“Your ma is really nice.”
“You think? She’s kinda protective of me.” He turned to look at you through his peripheral, leaving enough space it wasn’t obvious. “I think it’s cute, she cares for you, y’know?” You shifted yourself to face him, the Sundown light glittering against his smooth skin. He looked beautiful here, you thought. He looks beautiful everywhere.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Good, ‘s always good to know you’re loved.”
Miles’ heart stuttered in his chest, sucking in a quick breath and turning himself to face you.
“Mhmm.”
You looked up at him, leaning on your hand, drifting closer to him subconsciously.
He let himself drift as well, your voices quieting without either knowledge.
“Miles?” Your soft words questioned him, doey eyes gazing up at him, heart on your sleeve.
“I wanna—“ His sentence was cut off, a blaring siren sounding in his head, nerves.
“I think I might..—“
He huffed, mad at himself for being unable to speak.
“Do you want- Holy shit.”
You laughed, leaning back, a genuine glee in your eye.
“Do I want holy shit?-“ You giggled, he felt his heart flutter along with his disappointment (once more).
“-Not really, no.” You kept giggling, the serenity of your moment with Miles and his fumbling an apparent treat to you. He buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly. Only furthering your hysteria, “Leave me alone.” He dragged the ‘lone’ dramatically before flopping back against the blankets. Huffing and staring up at you from his spot. The smile on your face was a quick fix for his soured mood, not that it was that sour in the first place. But knowing a moment of undeniable spark like that, had you smiling and giggling after, even if it led to nothing. Had his hopes and his pulse rate rising.
Miles was head over heels for you. He was smitten, a total and complete dog for your affection. Sitting at home sulking when you weren’t there to hang out with him. Making you add his steam solely so he can play games with you.
A puppy of a man, god he wasn’t even ashamed.
“Dude, you just need’a ask ‘em out already.” Hobie served no help to his ever growing dilemma with you, but did serve to humiliate his seemingly non-existed romantic experience. “I’m *trying, man. They just keeps misunderstanding.” “Are they taking the hint?” “What hint?” He looked up from his slouched spot in his gaming chair. Spinning the thing in circles idly. “You haven’t given ‘em a hint?” Hobie blanched at Miles, like it was some obvious mistake.
“What. Hint.”
“Oh my god, Miles.”
He still didn’t get it, Hobie had explained his way of ‘hinting’ to someone he liked them. Through slight touches and subtle looks, a wink here and there. But not a cringey wink (Miles would argue they’re all cringey.), the ones where you feel like you’re part of a secret. This would be helpful to him, sure. If had hadn’t done everything with you already, except the winking, that is.
He did touch you, he did catch your eye when everyone else around looked away. He kissed your forehead and held your hand. You seemed borderline allergic to walking without you arm linked through his. All of there’s things that Hobie said were couple things, he’d already nailed. So why couldn’t you just.. date each other?
“I don’t know, it’s not like that.”
“But it is,” Hobie pointed to the centre of Mile’s’ forehead and flicked. “You guys are quite literally already dating.” “No, not really?”
“Oh my god you’re clueless.”
Hobie sighed, jumping off the bed and stretching his arms above his head. Miles grumbling a pouted ‘am not..’, Hobie settled him a look, taking a deep breath and continuing.
“Miles, mate, You both go to each other for comfort. You cry to each other, you find solace in one another. You touch and cuddle and sleep in the same bed.” He took another breath, seemingly needing a lot, “The only things you’re missing, are kissing each other for real. And calling each other your partners.”
“And if they end up saying no?”
“Then i’ll smash my guitar.”
Miles paused, considering the severity.
“Okay, okay i’ll do it.”
“Thank fuck.”—
+one
Miles had spent the better of an entire afternoon hyping himself up (and subsequently psyching himself out), before he finally had managed to make it your door and knock.
He was beyond nervous, the jitters in his bones crawling under his skin like spiders. Worse than normal, he observed.
A shuffle from inside your apartment had brought him back down to Earth. Everything suddenly becoming very real to him as you opened the door grumpily.
“Oh i’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“Oh, Miles!” Your pout had almost instantly been lifted, a smile grazing your face sleepily, it was so late, he shouldn’t have come.
“I’m so sorry- It’s late. I should—“
“No!”
“No?”
It was your turn to get bashful, twisting the hem of your shirt in your hands nervously. “Stay Miles.”
He softened, posture relaxing at your tone.
“Don’t want you running away again.”
That caught his attention. “Wha-“ “I was wondering when you’d finally show up outta’ the blue.” You glanced down to his lips then back. The amber in his eyes haunting your dreams, in such a welcomed way.
Miles couldn’t take it, with the way you spoke, so soft and fragile. To the things you were saying, confident and headstrong. He couldn’t fucking take it.
His hands shot up to your face, caressing the curves of your cheeks and slope of your jaw. The trails of hair behind your ears his fingers just grazed. He brought himself down to your height once more, standing on your porch step. Like some sappy rom-com.
“Tell me to stop.” He was near breathless. You didn’t, you didn’t say a thing. You simply carded your deft hands over thick curls, and pulled him down to meet you. His eyes fluttered closed and lips met yours. He felt like crying.
Like after the months of pining for you. For trying and trying for your love, for your affection, that everything in his life had only ever led to this one point. And everything farther was his happy ending. The spiders under his skin stopped crawling, settling into the crooks of his bones and finding home. He wasn’t shaking. He was still.
And as you pulled away to breathe, ogling up at him with nothing but love to give he smiled and laughed just like you did.
ITS FUCKING 3 AM I GENUINELY HAVENT SLEPT THIS IS SO CUTE
(he is ⬇️)
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shinjisdone · 6 months
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When You Have An Secret Admirer - And Everybody Thinks It's Them (1; Heartslabyul)
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A love letter was left at your door and now you are searching for that 'secret admirer' - everyone wants to help you out...but have their own reason for it. Yet now, it seems like there are quite a few misunderstandings on campus...and everyone thinks they have finally found that secret admirer.
Spin-off of the first 'secert admirer' series + form of headcanons
note: reader is gender-neutral but mostly mentioned in 2. pov; a series of everyone being mistaken for the secret admirer. headcanon will follow each char. own thoughts on the situation.]
"Hey...you think he could be the famous admirer of the Ramshakle prefect?"
2; Savanaclaw
3; Octavinelle
Ace Trappola
The first time Ace has heard of such whispers was when he was with you out in the hallways.
Students on the other side whispering amongst themselves, a clique subtly pointing at him...and eavesdropping on their suspicions...
"...You guys think its Trappola? He's always hanging around with the prefect ever since day one..."
Man, Ace was so close to spitting out his drink.
Did he just hear this right? Wait, wait, whoa, whoa, wait! He...didn't hear that just now, did he?
"Yeah, can't be anyone else. Have you seen how he looks at them?"
Oh no, he did right.
...Ha! Haha! Seriosuly? No way, does just...everyone in campus believe such crap? Haha, it can't be...
Though he tries to brush it all off, Ace quickly ushered you away from the hallways and anywhere where there wasn't a single soul. He couldn't bare to hear more.
But, seriously? Nah. No, no, no waaaay could...could Ace pull such cringy, gushy stuff. No one could seriously think he would even write a love letter, right?
Pfff, no. Ace isn't the type to even be capable of getting some notes for alchemy class right, or, or to get some flyin' mirror from somewhere, let alone steal roses from his own dorm. Have you seen how angry Riddle gets?
Totally in denial. Well, he is not that oh-so-great secret admiiiireeer, so what is there to deny? Nothing, that's what!
There are certainly a bunch of students that doubt he would and could do that...but others only believe it more.
The trickster Trappola. Your best friend who always looks out for you, always sticks with you even if he gets himself in trouble and seems to always look at you a certain way...
After all, guys tease those they like, right?
The whsipers get louder and louder throughout the week and Ace is visibly getting uneasy. You note and tell him how more fidgety and sweaty he seems recently but he brushes it all off with a scoff and a joke as usual.
He tried to think of a way to end this gossip...or at least escape it. But Ace will not ever think of avoiding you just for some stupid rumors. He is your friend, your best friend and he isn't gonna be a chicken and disappear into thin air just some idiots cannot tell the obvious - that Ace just isn't that romantic.
Would you like him to be more romantic...?
Alas, one day in the dorm, a few students approach him and directly ask him if he is the admirer. They may not have evidence but considering how the ace of hearts hangs around you like a leech, there is no other way that he doesn't like you.
Ace cracks an nervous grin and shrugs it all off despite pearls of sweat running down his face and tainting his jacket. Pff, whuat? Crazy such a claim, crazy he says! How deeply wounded he is by this suspicion!
Ace is honest and says, hey, he ain't the admirer. He ain't the romantic type either, he's just looking out for you, you know? Like the good classmate that he is.
A few believe that he is incapable of doing such acts and that it wouldn't fit his character at all. Though, that does not deter many to think that he does hold some feelings for you with how he is acting...
It just makes him more nervous.
Deuce Spade
Deuce coughed and cleared his throat the first time he heard such rumors at his club. Jack offered him water.
H-H-H-Huh??? WH-Wh-What, him? Him, Deuce Spade being your secret admirer?! Why would anyone think that?!
Genuinely baffled and surprised at this conclusion a few of his classmates came up with. How could he, Deuce, ever...be considered something close to a secret admirer?
But once he hears a few 'theories' his face is blooming a bright and deep red.
Constantly at your side? Protecting you in the smallest of ways like a hero? Giddy like a kid in a candy store when he gets praise from you? The thought of an ex-delinquent protecting and caring for someone being the ultimate proof that he is in love?!
L-L-L-Love?
H-Hold up! That can't be right! Deuce cares for you and you are his bestie but...! It isn't, it can't be...!
Too dumbfounded and embarrassed to do anything in the beginning. The thoughts and rumors of him even having feelings for you and people believing him to have done the things the admirer did, are constantly swirling in his mind. Day and night.
It's all getting too much...until only a handful of people approach him and ask.
Others back up in fear. "Hey, man, watch out! If you say anything wrong about his partner, the delinquent guy will beat you black and blue!"
WHAT
DELINQUENT GUY? P-P-PARTNER?!
Well, they are right, if someone were to hurt you, he would beat them up.
BUT ITS NOT ABOUT THAT RIGHT NOW.
With the biggest blush on his face and back straight as a candle, Deuce seems like an upright, studious boy who loudly corrects them, saying it's all not true! Y-You are just his best f-friend!
The gossip affects him so much that he comes running to you, lips in a nervous but tight line, eyes as big as a deers and face blooming like a rose.
"I AM NOT YOUR SECRET ADMIRER!"
Unwittingly he blurts out but softly tells you of the rumors right after. He just doesn't want there to be a misunderstanding.
He fiddles with his fingers, quietly continuing; "Because, uhm...if I did like you like that...I'd be more direct with you than that admirer could ever be."
Cater Diamond
Eh, what? Cater? And being a secret admirer?
Hah! That is almost cute and flattering! But, uh...well, a bit embarrassing, too...
Some argue of how he always calls you 'cute' or wants to take selfies with you...but he does so with everyone.
Yet Cater has a tendency to call you his 'favorite, cute juniour' just like Trey.
Cater is one actually able to laugh it all off genuinely - but at the same time he does not deny any of these claims. Yeah, you are super cute and have they seen these pics? They must have with how many hearts they got on Magicam~
He isn't gonna go around telling people that he fancies you but he is sure to casually tell them, no, he isn't the admirer. Very flattering (and bold) that you assume that though!
Will straight up go to you and say the obvious. He is not, in fact, your dear, darling admirer but that doesn't mean he doesn't admire you at all~
Trey Clover
Uhm???
Trey laughed sheepishly, hiding his blush under his hat.
This isn't...That's not right!
Everytime he'd hear a whisper, he unwittingly gets nervous. The thought of him doing the admirer's deeds...and even worse, people believing him to be them!
It's stress and drama he didn't ask for.
Although it is kinda a nice thought...while the actions of the admirer, the gifts and confessions of love are too embarassing for Trey, the thought of him making you fluster and blush is nice...
Very nice.
With a sigh, he shakes the thought of. He isn't them. No matter how much he wishes he was.
So with a sheepish grin and a bit of a stutter he clears his name. Riddle would have his head if he did any of these things!
With a ruffle of your hair he confesses. Don't worry, he isn't lovesick. He just likes you normally.
Riddle Rosehearts
SPITS OUT HIS TEA
Excuse him?! What did he just hear?! Doesn't matter if it was not meant for him to hear, off with your head! ITS OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!
So...absurd! There's no way such gossip is being spread in his dorm, is it?! Riddle already once had an awful reputation. There's no need for one made out of lies!
...Even if the image of him writing love letters and handing you gifts does fit him...Riddle would never steal from his own dorm!
He would never cause such a wreck as that "secret admirer" has. It's insulting to compare Riddle to them, lest even think he IS them!
Though he hears of the rumors, no one has the gall to approach him. That doesn't stop his anger as he gets more and more agitated everytime he even hears your name slip off someone's lips.
"The Housewarden totally favors them, after all..."
"He invites them to Unbirthday parties all the time."
"And acts like a gentleman then!"
Red, red, red. Riddle's face blooms in a deep crimson but it isn't blood rushing to his head in anger, it is a blush of embarassment.
Each one of them is right.
He cannot take his feelings being dangled in front of his face like that. It's all so, so true but he shall never admit it.
Riddle will have to clear his name it seems for all of this to stop.
It's difficult - not many believe him considering how agitated he becomes at the topic, at the mention of you.
Yet he managed to calm the crowd...all there was left was to tell you the truth as well.
"Im sure youve heard of it," he began dryly even as he tried to hide his blush. "But you know me and I would never callously break the rules like that just to...confess. No."
He then turned to you, his voice firmer and eyes softer. "If I wanted to court you, I'd do it in a way you deserve."
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discopaddock · 1 month
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I DON'T WANNA TALK - CHARLES LECLERC
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SUMMARY: charles is mad after the bad race, what can go wrong after screaming at his girlfriend?
PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader
GENRE: angst with happy (???) ending
WORD COUNT: 0.9k
WARNINGS: screaming, crying, charles is mad, traumatizing childhood and parent, ENGLISH ISN'T NY FIRST LANGUAGE
AUTHOR'S NOTE: hiya, was inactive for a (longer) moment, school still sucks, inspiration is taking offence at me and history at school does kill me right now fr (we started the great war recently and watched im westen nichts neues - i hate this kind of films). anyway this was based in this request.
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Charles was angry. No, he was furious.
Race didn't go well. He had to retire after Perez touched him and he ended up in the wall.
Race was good, for two laps he was even leading but then the Mexican showed up and Charles’ good race said “bye bye”.
“Charles,” his girlfriend said after they were finally in their hotel room.
He wasn't in the mood for talking. He didn't want her pity. He wanted to take a shower (another one) and scream in his pillow.
The girl was looking at him, worried. This wasn't the state she has seen him for many times. It was the first time actually.
“I don't wanna talk” he answered only and grabbed some clothes of his and entered the bathroom.
“If you’d like to-” she started but he turned around to face her with anger written on his face, panting.
“Shut up!” Charles yelled at her and entered the bathroom. She was left speechless. There were tears forming in her eyes that started falling down when she heard the slam of the door.
Oh, she really didn't want it to come back.
Life was good, great even, then those memories came to her mind, causing another session of crying.
The girl had no idea what to do.
Her eyesight wasn't so clear as she was looking for the tissues, convinced that her make up was smeared as hell.
When she finally found some in her bag, she next jumped on the bed and covered herself with the blanket.
Her heart was hurt, it didn't crack in shatters but still it hurt as hell.
She felt like that seven year old girl, who was standing in front of her father, crying because he yelled at her.
She was screamed at because of trying to make her dad come to terms with her beloved mother.
It was too much for little Y/N. It hunted her for years.
Especially now, when her and Charles were trying everything to have a baby. She was frightened she became the same as her father and her child would have to experience the same case as she had.
And now it was too much for adult Y/N.
She knew she should meet her therapist as soon as she could but she couldn't since she was travelling with her boyfriend around Asia for the next two weeks and her therapist wasn't doing online appointments.
And there she was, still lying on her side of the king-size bed covered with a blanket and still crying.
Charles wasn't aware of his girlfriend's reaction to his behaviour until he left the bathroom, all showered and with a clear mind, and heard sobs in the room.
He sighed only and went to the bed and took a seat beside the girl. He carefully took off the blanket of her face and saw her with smeared make up, red eyes and runny nose.
She didn't want to talk with him and put her head in the pillow, so he couldn't look at her.
“I'm sorry-” he started but her hushed by the pillow voice interrupted him with:
“I don't wanna talk.”
So Charles didn't talk more but kissed her head quickly and left to the living room, to give her space he knew she needed.
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The next hour went, well, silent.
Y/N wasn't sobbing anymore, just blowing off her nose and coughing from time to time. Charles at the other hand was thinking about his new song and was trying to write any notes but he lacked at stave paper and at any keyboard or piano.
The girl finally got out of the bed and entered the bathroom. She grabbed some cotton pads and put micellar water on it and began to remove her make up.
It was a heavenly feeling for her, since her eyelids were sticking to each other because of the mascara.
Next she grabbed some cleaning foam and removed the rest of the cosmetics and put on the cream.
The girl left the bathroom and went to Charles who was sitting on the couch with some folded paper around.
He heard her steps and turned around to see her face.
“Ready to talk?” he asked only and she nodded, then sat beside him. “I'm sorry, truly” he said, looking into her eyes, that he loved so much. Now they were puffed and red from the crying.
“I know” she answered and hugged him like a koala. Charles wrapped his arms around her body, without saying any words.
“What happened?” the man asked, rubbing her back with his palm. “Tell me, I'm not leaving this without any explanation,” he added in a calm tone.
The girl was silent for a few moments. But then she told him only:
“Father was screaming at me for trying to help.”
Charles was speechless. He knew his girlfriend’s relationship with her father wasn't good, but he didn't know it was that bad. He never asked since her mother told him not to for the girl's mental state.
“I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry” he whispered to her ear, trying to comfort her the best he could.
“I don't want to be like him” she mumbled in the crock of his neck and he sighed.
“You are not like him,” he assured her. “You will never be like him,” he added and kissed her temple. “You are a better person than him, dove.”
“I love you” she mumbled.
“I love you too” she whispered back and they remained silent for the rest of the night, cuddled in each other’s arms.
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hauntedwitch04 · 6 months
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Little one
Sam Winchester x reader
Words: about 3.9k words
Warnings: smut, smut, I forgot to say smut, DESTIEL BECAUSE I LOVE THEM, dirty talk
Author’s note: Hi loves! I finally managed to write some more after the crazy week I had. Hope you like it, your witch Becky
Requests are open I Ask
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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023
DAY 5: Size kink
"Hey little one do you need a hand?" You hear Sam ask, hearing in his tone of voice that silly little sly smile you hate so much. You huff as still with your back turned you don't even turn to look at him, knowing you couldn't help but melt under the gaze of his green eyes. You feel him coming up behind you, his chest brushing against your back as you see his hand reach for the book you've been reaching for for more than ten minutes. His presence behind you almost makes your knees give way.
The two of you have been playing this game for weeks now, provoking the other but at the same time neither of you seems to have the courage to take matters into their own hands and drag the other into your bedroom. A few days ago Sam realized how sensitive you are to the size difference between the two of you. You have never considered yourself short, you have always been average, but next to him you look little more than a smurf. He is literally a giant, and that doesn't mean he is merely tall, but because of the life you lead he has developed a lot of muscles in his arms and chest, as well as perfect abs, and that makes him imposing, and fuck if that isn't attractive. You get lost in thinking what it must be like to be under him, enclosed between his warm body and his bed, but almost immediately you are interrupted by a cough behind you. You turn and see him with a raised eyebrow looking at you amused. Now the two of you are face to face, or rather you have your face at his chest level, and in fact you have to look up to stare into his eyes.
The man in front of you seems to be quite amused by this, in fact he leans forward a little, thinking you would move for that movement, and instead you stand still, not showing weakness.
"Careful little one your neck will hurt if you keep holding it like that. Maybe we should buy a stepladder at least you'd be able to look me in the eye without any trouble." Says Sam, a breath away from your lips.
"You giant asshole, I swear I'll cut your balls off if-" You start to threaten him, but you are interrupted by a new voice. Castiel has just entered the room and is looking at you with a questioning expression before shouting.
"Dean they are doing it again." He says to the other hunter who immediately responds to the angel, threatening you as well.
"Home run before you see things you don't want to see. And you two stop circling around the fact that you want to fuck. There's too much sexual tension in the air and no one can take it anymore. You better find a solution or I swear I'll have the next witch I meet charm you." Says the brother of the man in front of you, from the kitchen, making both you and Sammy blush.
"Fuck you Dean." Sam manages to say, not looking you in the eye. Immediately you turn away from each other, going in different directions.
You arrive in your room, close the door, and lean against it as you take a breath of relief.
You can't deny that there is not that sexual tension between the two of you that Dean accuses you of, but at the same time you don't have the courage to take that extra step for fear of being rejected because treacherously you think Sam intends all that as a kind of game between the two of you, but nothing more. You stay for a moment thinking again about the feeling of his body so big and muscular against yours. You felt so small and helpless, and yet you were not afraid, in fact all your brain could process were rather spicy situations with the youngest of the Winchesters. Then suddenly you violently detach yourself from the door, as your mind was again training itself in those overly specific thoughts of what it would be like to be fucked by Sam, placed on all fours on his bed, while he on top of you, with his chest pressed against your back, holding the bed keyboard with one strong hand to make stronger, firmer thrusts. You get lost in thinking about what it must feel like to have his kisses on your bare back with the light beard he has, what one of his strong hands gripping one of your hips must feel like, or his cock pushing in. You decide it's time for a cold shower at the very moment you're left thinking about whether the size of his member is directly proportional to everything else, hoping that at least that might bring you back to your senses a little.
You've never been much of a person who likes to go to parties, but you certainly can't say no to a nice evening with your favorite people spent drinking and singing your favorite songs. By now it is very late and both Dean and Cas have gone to bed, no matter how much the last one doesn't sleep, but by now since they had declared themselves to each other they had created a routine, thanks to which the oldest of the Winchesters is finally able to sleep without nightmares. You are happy forni your friends, they both deserve the small portion of happiness that fate has reserved for them, and on the contrary you wish they had fi more. Since they've gone to bed, though, you and Sam are left alone, with more than ample amount of alcohol in your system, which is a bit dangerous considering the thoughts some days that led you to take a shower so cold that even penguins would beat their beaks for cold.
You and young Winchester spent those days avoiding each other, and when you couldn't, all you could do was avoid each other's gaze and not blush.
You remain silent again, enjoying that peace to which you are not very accustomed. You are sitting side by side, and you can't help but slowly move closer to his body, attracted by the warmth it produces.
It seems like hours go by, and maybe it's only a few minutes, but eventually he interrupts that state of stillness.
"Can I ask you a question?" Sammy asks, turning toward you, and you can't help but be a little annoyed by his question, but you nod as you down some more alcohol. He seems to consider what words to use.
"Have you ever thought of anything more than this between us?" The man asks, looking you in the eye. You pause with your glass in midair, petrified by that question. For a moment it crosses your mind that he has figured out how you feel about him, but then you look at him and see him waiting for your answer and realize that he is really only asking you out of pure curiosity.
"Why did you think of that?" You ask in turn defensively. You see him hesitate for a moment as you did a few seconds earlier, but eventually he flashes you a smile, regaining all the resourcefulness he has shown in this last period.
"Oh little one, I'm afraid I'd scare you if I told you all the things I've been thinking about doing with you." He says in a rough, sensual voice, and you immediately feel a shiver go down your spine. You feel him move closer to you, while you remain still, afraid that if you moved even a finger, this whole situation would vanish like a soap bubble. You think more than once that all this is a dream produced by the alcohol in your system, then you feel his lips on your neck and realize that it is all true.
"Well you could show me a couple of things you've imagined doing with me, and I'll tell you if they're the same things I've thought of." I say in a whisper, as he continues to nibble on my neck, leaving sweet kisses at times.
"You're going to fucking kill me sooner or later." Sam comments before standing up, and with a smooth, quick movement, hoisting me onto his shoulder. I let out a soft yelp, before starting to bombard him with threats and questions.
"Sam Winchester, let me go now! Where are you taking me?" I ask, trying not to give away that just that simple gesture that showcased his strength and how much bigger he was physically than you was turning you on.
"In the room, unless you want to be fucked here where anyone could walk in at any moment. I didn't take you for that kind of person, but we could always try it another time." He says chuckling, while you in response punch him lightly in the back. "Besides, from here I have a first-class view of your ass." He continues nonchalantly, and you can't help but blush.
"Sam!" You take him back, but he immediately doesn't give you time to continue.
"Little one, don't be an angel, because we both know how many times you've thought about doing dirty things with me, and you can't even lie because it was all over your face." Notices Sam, scolding you as one scolds a child who has eaten too much candy.
"Like you had a marble mask on, and you couldn't see all the times you looked at my boobs." You comment, as you try to figure out by now where you are, but the corridors of the bunker are all dark and you can't quite get your bearings.
"It's not my fault you have particularly nice tits." He replies, as if it were a given, and you can't help but laugh at the situation. Your laughter is interrupted, however, when Sam throws you onto what you recognize to be his bed.
The playful air that had been created disappears in an instant and gives way to a new tension, steeped in passion and mischief. The youngest Winchester slides all the way down your body until his plump lips are inches from yours. The feel of his body, so large compared to yours, is even better than you had imagined. He spends a few seconds teasing you, kissing all over your face and the area near your mouth, but he doesn't touch your lips a single time, until you slip your hands into his hair and force him to do so. He smiles against your lips, and when you pull away to get some air, he teases you.
"Someone is a little impatient, what can't you wait to feel my cock inside you anymore?" He asks rhetorically, while his hands begin working to remove the several layers of clothes you are wearing.
"All promises Winchester, it's time to keep them." You say, trying to answer him again in kind as pleasure begins to work its way through you.
"You'll regret this shamelessness little one, another time, not today, but next time I won't be as good to you as I will be this time."
Quickly he removes the few clothes you have on while you do the same to him, a little groggy from pleasure and a little from alcohol.
He kisses your neck, leaving red, biting marks as he slowly moves down to your breasts, to remove the bra you still have on. He takes one of your nipples in his teeth, while the other teases it with his hand.
Once he is done torturing your breasts, he goes down to your navel with his kisses and then gently bites your panties. A shiver runs through you again as you feel his lips graze the skin of your legs, while he stares into your eyes and pulls them off with such slowness that you feel faint before long at how hard your heart is beating.
"You better get moving Winchester." You try to threaten him, once he completely peels off the penultimate layer of clothing that stood between you and him, since he still has his boxers on.
"Or what small thing? I don't think you're in a position to threaten me." He comments amused, before returning to your center, and leaving sweet kisses all around in your inner thigh. You can't help but sigh as you slip a hand into his soft, long hair, trying to take him where you most desire.
"Fuck you." That's all you can say in response, and he can't help but laugh. Eventually Sam lets you guide him where you want him, and finally his lips meet those of your pussy. You can't help but let out a moan mixed with a scream as the man squeezes your clit between his teeth as he had done with your nipples earlier. With his tongue he continues to lick you, slowly increasing the pleasure.
Suasult when you also feel his fingers join in the torture, as he rhythmically works them into you. His fingers are long and big, enough to reach all the right places, and make you wriggle between the covers of the now unmade bed, making you clutch the sheet so tight you thought it would tear.
Eventually, faster than it had ever happened to you, you feel the orgasm coming, with the impetuosity of a wave ready to sweep whatever it meets in its path.
"Sam- fuck- please don't stop." You beg him, as you continue to move your hips under his mouth to create more friction.
"Oh my little one is cumming?" He asks, pulling away from you slightly.
"Sam, please." You beg him again as you run a hand through his hair again, and he can't help but moan as you do so.
He doesn't respond to you, but his actions speak for themselves as he again begins to lick your center as he speeds his fingers entering your pussy. A few minutes pass and you finally reach orgasm, and for a second you think you lose contact with the whole world. All you hear in your ears is blood pulsing, your eyes narrowed as your lips hold back a scream, while your hands continue to cling tightly to Sam's hair. Once you regain your breath and some clarity you stop and look at Sammy who is now looking at you seriously. Around your mouth you can still see the remnants of the otherworldly experience you just had.
"Are you okay?" He asks you as he licks his lips.
"Never felt better." You answer, as you signal for him to come up. He complies and comes with his face at the same height as yours. You kiss him softly, and he can't help but do the same. It is very different from the kiss you shared earlier, passionate and impetuous, but no less sensual and beautiful. Then suddenly you take him by surprise and reverse the situation by finding yourself on top of him.
"Now it's my turn to torture you a little." You whisper in his ear before moving down to his boxers. You slip them off him the same way he took off your underwear, which is with your teeth, and you hear him cursing as you brush against his now very obvious erection. Then unable to hold back you take his member with your hands, and like everything in your body it seems to be huge compared to you, but in this case you don't really know if it is your point of view or is objective. You tease his entire length with your tongue, before starting to suck lightly at the tip, while moving your hand along everything else you don't touch. Immediately his hand, almost as big as your head, gets stuck in your hair and begins to send you further and further down, at the pace he likes best. That's how Sam begins to fuck your mouth, at first slower, going steadily increasing, so that the last thrusts you feel his cock coming down your throat, and you can't help but get aroused when you feel the air miss you. He continues this game for a few minutes, until with a series of moans where he screams your name he doesn't cum in your mouth, and you swallow everything he gives you.
"That's my girl." Sammy comments as he catches his breath, but you see a spark in his eyes that tells you you're not even close to the end.
"So far we've been playing, now comes the main course." He continues, as again he reverses the situation, bringing you under him. You feel one of your thighs open, and with his knee he stimulates your pussy. Immediately you let out a scream that he silences with his lips. You begin to kiss more and more passionately as you feel him driving his cock in front of your entrance. The moment he is about to push in for the first time, you stop him by asking him a question?
"Are you sure it fits?" You ask slightly frightened by his size, and excited at the same time. He looks at you and chuckles a little, throwing his head into the crook of your neck.
"It's just that I've never had anyone so ...great, it's no laughing matter Winchester!" You continue, chuckling in turn. He kisses you gently on the nose before answering you.
"I promise in case it does you, you'll just have to tell me and we'll stop right away, okay?" He asks seriously, watching you as he moves a strand of hair away from your face. "Besides, I think the orgasm has prepared you well honey." He finishes by winking at you. He kisses you again but this one more gently, trying to distract you. You feel him enter you, and for a moment you think you have died and are in your own little piece of heaven.
"Are you okay little one?" Sam asks seeing your closed eyes and clenched fists holding the pillow.
"Oh God, Winchester you better move your ass and fuck me before I come at this exact moment." You whisper, as you release one hand to bring him to you and kiss him. You feel him begin to thrust in and out of you, picking up a rather fast pace as he stimulates one of your breasts with one hand and his lips are busy making more marks on your neck, lest he cry out your name in pleasure. You are not much better off, so much so that at one point you feel an iron taste of blood in your mouth from how much you bit your lips to keep Cas and Dean from hearing you. You keep moving in unison, seeking pure pleasure.
"God baby, you are so perfect. You don't know how much I've dreamed of having you under me, screaming my name, rocking your world." Sam comments, before kissing one of your breasts. "I love your body, so small compared to mine, so much that I'm afraid I'll break you every time I touch you, but at the same time so sinful that I can't stop myself from doing the worst sins they ever came up with even in hell."
You fail to respond too caught up in everything the boy is making you feel. You feel like it's the first time in years you've breathed again, the first time you've really tasted oxygen.
"Sam, please, I'm going to-" You are interrupted by a kiss from him.
"Me too baby." He replies after pulling away from your lips. "Your pussy is squeezing my cock so hard, I think I'm about to go crazy." He comments, and it seems that his words are the keys to reach again that already before, only with his fingers had you tasted, but that was but a paltry appetizer, this was of the magnitude of a wedding feast. Your whole body quivers with force, as your center, in pleasure, tightens even tighter around his size, making you feel the size of his member even more.
Just as Sam's words were for you, for him it seems that your orgasm triggers his, in fact when you finally seem to have regained some mental clarity, after spending several minutes with your mind clouded, drowsy with pleasure, you feel your womb being filled with his seed, and you have another orgasm, smaller than before, but still quite important.
It is some time before both of you have caught your breath, in each other's arms. You remain in silence enjoying the warmth of the naked body of the person you love by your side. Then without saying a word Sam moves to your side and encircles you with his arms, having spread a blanket over your uncovered bodies. You fall asleep within minutes, with a smile on your lips, both of you happy to be close to the one you love, and especially happy to know that the one you love loves you back.
BONUS (I can't help it, I love bonuses too much :) )
Dean sits at the kitchen table as Cas hands him a steaming cup of coffee. He thanks him with a whisper before sipping his drink in silence. The only noise in the room is that of the liquid slipping over his lips as the two lovers stare into the void, lost in their own thoughts. Eventually it is the angel who breaks the silence.
"We need to soundproof the rooms better." He comments, and Dean can make no more than a sound of approval. They had not slept a wink because of your shouting, and as happy as they were to know that now the tension between the two of you had been cleared up, they also did not want to hear how their nephew was created, since his brother and you had not made much effort to be quiet. And this was not the first time. Since you had come out to each other now almost a month ago, every night you had done nothing but shout each other's names in pleasure, so much so that often both Dean and Cas had decided to go for a drive, but they couldn't take it anymore.
"You're damn right." Dean says before taking another sip of coffee. "You know I almost preferred it when they hadn't come out, now I'm afraid to turn the corner and watch them procreate on the library table." Dean comments amused, finishing his drink as he sees his boyfriend shoot him a look and a smile.
"As if we never did." Cas says, laughing.
"But they don't know that." Dean replies, giving him a wink, then getting up and leaving a gentle kiss on his forehead and heading out of the room, obviously checking to make sure you are not in it.
TAGLIST
@laurennnomg @deanwinchestersgirl87 @samanddeansannoyingsis @ash04w3 @l3viathanpup @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @wafflezo @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @shodowbane09 @acidicpickle @supernatural-lvr
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emphistic · 23 days
Text
Doctor's Orders
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Synopsis: Sukuna catches a cold, and isn't able to make it to your guys' planned lunch. Luckily for him, though, you still take the food — as to-go.
A/N: i have a lot of works planned, but im kinda slow, thankfully i have a lot of free time now so i'll try to pump out as much sukuna content as i can
PS: i got sick the second day of writing this, why world? whyyyyy? also, i hated writing this. i am not proud of this whatsoever
Taglist: @starlets-things
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You
Hey
R u dead or smth??
You're late
Delivered 25m ago
Those were the last text messages you sent Sukuna, before picking up two hummus wraps and drinks from Sunny's Diner. The two of you were originally supposed to meet up there and have lunch together, but the pink-haired teen wasn't answering his phone, at all.
Now, you stand before his front door. A to-go bag tucked under your arm, and another hand rapidly knocking on the door.
Mr. Itadori — Sukuna's grandpa — wasn't home, you assumed, so you were alone in this.
Sighing, you decided to do this the old fashioned way.
It took you less than five minutes to climb the tree outside of Sukuna's bedroom, and five seconds to crawl on a branch to his window.
Finally, you pressed your face up against his window, and saw Sukuna — still in bed — with the blankets covering all of his body.
You aggressively knocked on his window, and saw him moving under the blankets before sticking a head out. He immediately fell back onto his bed at the sight of you.
He looked awful; there were bags under his eyes; his hair looked like a bird's nest, not to mention, he was sweating all over.
"Open the window!" You shouted, loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough to not disturb the peace in the neighborhood.
Despite being outside, you could practically imagine his groan at the sound of your voice.
Sukuna knew he had no choice, though, so he begrudgingly got out of bed, and walked — no, wobbled — over to his window. His arms felt like Jell-O as he opened his window, and you crawled into his bedroom.
As soon as your feet touched the floor, you felt a familiar weight fall upon you, before you crashed into the wall and onto the floor. You were in a pile of tangled limbs.
"Sukunaaaaa, oww!" You rubbed your forehead.
You tried to stand back up, but the boy's body would not give you the chance to.
"Get off of me, you slug."
"I'm good." He mumbled into your neck.
"You're too heavy," you pushed at the older's shoulders until he finally rolled off of you.
You sighed in relief. "Thank God."
You stood up, pulling Sukuna with you. Despite his size, you had to practically hold him, and yourself, up.
"You look like shit." You cupped his face to get a good look at his condition.
"Wanted to look like you."
"Well, you failed. I'm flawless."
You maneuvered the boy to his bed and let him flop down onto his stomach, before you rolled him over on his back to a more comfortable position.
You grabbed a blanket and placed it onto Sukuna, and you sat down on the side of his bed, your hand placed just inches away from his head.
"So, like, you gonna tell me what's wrong?" You raised a brow.
"What do you think, dumbass. I'm sick," he coughed, "duh." Sukuna quickly retorted, curling onto his side in order to put his head on your lap.
"How'd you get sick?"
Sukuna glared up at you.
You sigh, carding your fingers through his pink, unruly hair. He hummed, clearly content. And if you didn't know better, you would probably assume he was purring.
"Oh! I almost forgot," you rummaged through your bags; Sukuna grumbled at the lost feeling of your hands in his hair almost immediately. "I got food for us. Since someone decided not to show up."
You placed his hummus wrap — covered in foil — onto his bedside table, and set yours likewise.
"Have you eaten yet, 'Kuna?"
"I haven't had breakfast," he murmured.
"You could've just said a quick 'no'."
"Girls are so bossy."
"Hey—"
Sukuna cut you off with a whine. "Ughh, my throat hurts. And my head is throbbing."
You rubbed your chin with your thumb and index finger. You put the back of your hand against Sukuna's forehead. "You have a fever."
"Really? I couldn't tell."
"Take off your shirt," you demanded.
"In your dreams."
"More like my nightmares," you giggled, before helping Sukuna to remove his shirt.
You stood up to walk to his bathroom; Sukuna was quick to pull you back by the wrist. Even when he's sick, he's still got a strong grip.
"And where do you think you're going?"
You tugged your arm out of his grasp, "Don't."
You managed to enter the bathroom — without any more nagging from Sukuna — and grabbed a towel, soaking it in cold water.
Then, you walked back into his room, and placed it atop his forehead. Sukuna immediately went to remove it, before you swatted his hand away.
"Get this thing off of me. It's freezing," Sukuna scowled.
You had to restrain yourself from putting him in shackles, "This is literally helping you. So, shut up. You talk too much."
"This is literally," he coughed, "my house. Don't tell me what to do, girl."
"Doctor's orders."
"Nuh uh, you're far from a doctor. More like a witch instead," Sukuna snickered.
You rolled your eyes, already used to Sukuna's antics by now.
"Do you have medicine anywhere in the house?" You asked, caressing his cheek and rubbing it with your palm.
"Mmhm." He nuzzled his face impossibly closer into your hand.
You sighed, "C'mon. Work with me here, 'Kuna. Where's the medicine?"
A long break of silence, "'m not gonna tell you."
"Tell me, or else, or else I'll — ," you thought for a moment, "or else I'll tell your grandpa. And you know how he takes of people when they're sick."
Sukuna's eyes immediately shot open. He knew his grandpa's old fashioned ways.
"It's in the cabinet in the kitchen. The one above the fridge."
You struggled to reach, having to stand on your tiptoes, but at last, you brought a bottle filled with red liquid and a measuring cup to Sukuna's bedroom.
When you entered, he immediately started to move away from you. Alas, he only had so much room on his bed.
"I would rather die, than drink that shit." Sukuna pointed at the cup with his finger.
"Then die," you quipped back, shoving the cup — that you filled with medicine — into his hands.
Sukuna glared at you, but you remained unwavering in your demand. When he realized there was no point in trying to argue, he leaned his head back and drank.
"Weirdo," you sneer.
"What's the problem now?" Sukuna placed the now empty cup on his table and fell back onto his bed, covering his eyes with an arm.
"You drank the medicine like it was a shot."
"Doesn't matter."
Sukuna began to cough, and cough, and cough. He sat upright.
You rubbed his back.
Sukuna felt utterly selcouth. He never had someone help him through a sickness. Sure, Grandpa was always there, but he's different. Sukuna's had tutors, coaches, people whose jobs were to help. But it wasn't your job.
"Why?" Why do you help me? Sukuna asked.
You know why. But those words never left your mouth. Instead,
"Shh. Be quiet. Let me take care of you."
At the end of the day, you knew why you were helping Sukuna. And Sukuna knew how you were helping him.
You tucked him in, raised the blanket up to his shoulders, adjusted the towel on his forehead, and kissed his forehead.
"Don't overexert yourself," you walked to the door, "I know you will."
Sukuna wanted to call your name, have you stay by his side, run your soft fingers through his hair for just a little longer, but his throat itched, and he didn't even have the energy to cough or sneeze. So, alas, he shut his eyes, and dreamt instead.
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