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workofheart · 3 years

Text

promise

levi never thought he could have a peaceful night’s rest until he found himself in your arms

requested by: @thecaptainsbride

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: fluff, canonverse, establishing domesticity

a/n: we had levi comforting reader, and now we have reader comforting levi :’) in terms of the request, i altered the timeline a bit but i think it still captures what you were going for! enjoy u guys <3

Levi isn’t used to letting people into his space.

In this line of work, he’s learned to be careful of the people he trusts to see his life from the inside. Not only to retain the secrecy and plans of the Scouts, but to protect his well being when he is so surrounded by death and destruction. A heart can only break so many times before it fails to beat at all.

That’s why, when the night comes when he finally decides to let you stay over, he’s tense. He observes your every step, unsure if he’s nervous or embarrassed or scared. It’s not skepticism, he knows, because he does trust you. You’re the only person he could possibly imagine him letting get so close to him with all that he’s experienced. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have let you enter in the first place; so for once, he’s going to have faith his own judgment.

You slowly pace around his room, peeking at the knick knacks Levi has accumulated over the span of his life so far. He has quite the array of stationary arranged neatly on his desk, and a curated assortment of pens and ink to choose from. Worn, loved books line the shelves of the wooden case, small pieces of paper poking out from the top. A nimble finger traces over the cracked spine of one with a faded green cover.

“Can I?” you ask, turning over your shoulder to see him. Levi is sitting on the edge of his bed, palms pressed tightly to his thighs. He takes a deep breath and nods gently in response, dark strands of hair falling in front of his eyes.

You carefully tilt the spine towards you and pluck it from its spot. Flipping through the pages, you can see how Levi has diligently underlined, highlighted, and starred the passages. Small notes in his delicate handwriting decorate the margins with definitions and insightful observations. This book has been well read, and you’re sure the others are just the same.

His room is fairly bare for how long it’s been his home, but how much of a home is it really if he’s always on the move with the scouts? Constantly between hotels, barracks, abandoned homes, or whatever else the world throws at them next, he hasn’t had time to make the space livable. They’re never in one place too long - this is more like a headquarters to come back to after the day is done. And for Levi, the day is rarely done, even when the sun has set and the sky turns dark.

It’s strange, but he almost likes having you here. To him, it’s always been just a room. A simple, stupid box in a line of other simple, stupid boxes to house people just like him. Now that you’re occupying the space, though, it’s much different. It’s no longer just a room, but a sort of home.

Your presence here gives it much more meaning than any trinket he might have placed on the shelf. Things in this room he’s never given a second thought suddenly burst to life with your interest in them, pulling memories from the depths of his brain as he recalls where he got them, when he got them, just because you asked.

It’s much too easy for him, too, the way he imagines coming home from a long day to greet you at the front door. He pictures you perfectly, hair twisted into a loose braid, a soft nightgown hanging off your shoulders, feet sporting cozy slippers that make muted thuds as you walk over to give him a warm welcome back. He imagines quiet mornings sitting at the table for two, sipping tea and working through crosswords together. He sees himself reading aloud to you at the bay window, dozing off against his shoulder under the light.

The thought of such uncomplicated, reliable domesticity with you is a thought he lets himself dream about. It seems natural, a routine he wouldn’t mind slipping into in the slightest, and you haven’t even stayed the night yet.

He wouldn’t mind living here forever as long as you did too

When your curiosity has been, for the most part, sated, you return back and join him on the bed. You plop down, expecting to sink right in - why exactly, you’re not sure, because it’s incredibly characteristic for Levi’s bed to be as hard as a rock.

Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but the firmness is still shocking beneath your fingertips.

“Have you ever even slept in this bed?” You ask with wide eyes, hands pressing down into the austere cushion, trying to fluff it like it was a pillow. The incredulous smile adorning your face makes his stomach flip. He crosses his arms across his front as if to mask his heart beating out of his rib cage. He's never been in such close, private quarters with you before.

Levi shrugs. “I don’t really sleep anywhere.” Internally, he shakes off his nerves, not wanting to embarrass himself by leaning into them. The thought of showing how bashful he feels alone is mortifying, but he doesn’t know yet that you’d only love him more for it.

You can’t help but to tease, muttering, “I mean, I know of a way to break it in.” Your face is utterly serious, but your eyes, swimming with a mirth Levi is far too fond of, give it away.

Levi diverts his eyes with a small roll to the side, the hint of a smile crawling up his face. He’s the last person you’d think to be flustered by such a thing, but it’s only because it’s you. “Go to bed, brat.”

You pout. “Only if you lay down with me.”

“I told you, I don’t sleep.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t lay down.”

You know your way around Levi too well, he thinks, or maybe he just loves you. The way you can get his resolve to crumble with a mere pleading expression must be some sort of crime. You read him like a book and know him like the back of your hand to a point where it would be dangerous if it were anyone else. Usually the thought of such a person would intimidate him, but he doesn’t mind being seen by you - not that he has a choice. Against your will, he doesn’t stand a chance; not now and not ever.

He sighs a long sigh and gestures for you to get in with a small wave of his hand. While he stands to close to blinds and light the lamp by his bedside, you scramble under the covers. The initial feeling of warmth covers your skin and makes you shiver as you adjust, crawling hastily under and pulling the blankets up close to your chest. They’re soft and clean and smell just like Levi.

He lets out a yawn that oddly reminds you of a lion pup, but you don’t mention it, instead locking it away for you to think of later on. If you said anything, he’d probably never do it again. Gently, he pulls up the covers on his side and slides under to join you, the bed sinking with his added weight.

“Goodnight, Levi.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

After laying for a while, staring up at the ceiling, Levi feels himself become drowsy. He lets his muscles relax, lets his jaw unclench, lets his eyes fall shut. Though he’s a bit puzzled as to why, sleeping now seems so inviting, and who is he to deny it?

From his side, you watch his breathing slow. It settles into a steady rise and fall of his chest, and his lips part slightly.

The progression is slow. At first, you work up the courage to slip your arm over his middle. You spend minute after minute contemplating, picturing him pushing you away, but you’re getting tired and enough is enough. You slip your arm over his middle and stay completely still; then, nothing happens.

Until moments later, when he rolls onto his side to face your direction. His eyes are still closed, rhythmically relaxed breaths leaving his nose. Then, you move onto your back and scoot up a bit further onto the pillows. He unconsciously curls into your warmth, shifting further into your body, and it makes you melt immediately, swelling with a giddy feeling. You’re almost worried the joyous thumping you feel inside your chest will wake him up.

Eventually, Levi’s head rests perfectly atop your shoulder, small puffs of air falling lightly on your skin. Your hands rub calm circles into the skin on his back where his t-shirt has ridden up, careful not to rouse him from his slumber.

It’s like that for a long time. You keep yourself awake, content with just holding him for now. You take the time to think, watching the flickering glow of the lamp, listening to his quiet breaths, feeling the muted beat of his heart on your hip.

It’s hours later when Levi sucks in a big breath, blinking awake in alarm. His head picks up off your chest and he looks around, finally settling on you who blinks right back. His lids squeeze shut and he mentally grounds himself as he realizes he’s safe.

“You okay?” you ask quietly, voice low as to not interrupt the calm of the night. Your hold around him tightens to let him know you’re there.

He shakes his head slightly and sighs. “Bad dream.”

“‘S all right,” you say, hand moving from his back to his nape, “you can go back to sleep.”

He rubs his eyes, yawning. In an instant, he freezes, realizing the position he’s in. He’s practically clinging to you like a child would a toy, and he feels a familiar heat flush his skin as his head hangs. “Sorry.” He swallows. “I should probably start work.”

He starts to push himself off of you to get up, but your hold on his shoulders is firm, pulling him right back down.

“You’re tired,” you say. “Stay. I’ll be right here.”

He sighs, looking around, before resigning and dipping his head back down to lay on top of you. He doesn’t feel like arguing something he knows he wants deep down anyway. He nuzzles his face into your front, shaking his head slightly as if to clear his mind of what was plaguing it in his rest.

“Promise you won’t leave,” he mumbles softly into your shirt, barely audible. He’s too tired to put up a mask for show, and he’s relieved to see that you don’t need one from him come rain or shine.

Your fingers card through his silky locks and brush them back from his face as his body finally sinks into yours, his weight a warming comfort. It’s slight, but you feel his head tilt just a bit further into your palm.

You place a chaste kiss to his crown. “Promise.”

☆☆☆

When the morning sun finally wakes and rises above the horizon line, Levi finds himself turning away from the beams filtering through the curtains. He feels the golden light on his lids, and he flips onto his opposite side, clinging to the cozy feel of his bed. The only thing that pulls him from his slumber is when his hand stretches out to find emptiness all around, your presence absent from his space where he so desperately wants you.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you say, watching him shift slowly and gain his surroundings. You’re standing at the small counter across the room, boiling a pot of water on the stove - Levi can tell from the faint rumbling of bursting bubbles inside the steel kettle. He slowly peels his eyes open to get a glimpse of you, features seeming to glow with the light pouring in from the windows. He feels his heart skip a beat that he’s not ready for.

Levi is surprised that he has slept in so late, let alone slept through the entire night at all. It’s rare that this happens - he almost wants to say it’s the first time it has occurred for him, waking up in secure comfort rather than burning fear. The only thing that could make it better were if you were right beside him.

Of course, Levi can’t bring himself to say something so forward this early in the morning. Instead, he mumbles a small, “Come back,” a hint of a whine to his voice that only you could identify.

There’s a muted clinking sound as you stir a spoon around in the porcelain cups you’ve prepared, knocking against each other as you try your best to pick them up. It feels like a juggling act, trying to bring them over safely. You don’t know how Levi makes it look so easy every time he brings you a cup when they are so awfully hot to the touch. He must have gotten used to it, or bears the sting for the sake of his collected appearance.

“I was planning on it,” you reassure him, “just had to stretch a bit.”

Your feet pad lightly across the wood floors until you reach him, offering the tea which he graciously accepts. You set your own on the nightstand to cool while Levi takes his first sip immediately. It tastes just like how he makes it for himself. Considering he’s never explicitly shown you exactly what he does, he’s both surprised and deeply touched.

His eyes follow you as you clamor in next to him. He asks the question that’s been playing on his mind since he stirred awake hours ago.

“Were you awake all night?”

He sees your expression falter slightly and knows right from then. Regardless, you brush it off without hesitation, nestling up to his side.

“No, no,” you lie casually, “I woke up a little before you did and went to sleep after.”

With a gentle hand, you straighten out the part in his hair, laying down the slight frizz from where his head was pressed into the pillow.

Levi looks at you for a long time, observing your tender gestures. He sees right through your words, and also sees the slight droop of your eyes, a hint of darkness beneath them. He thinks of you awake all night, petting his hair as he rests while you don’t, and brings a twinge of guilt to his heart. At the same time, his soul is utterly warmed and thankful. He’s not sure what to make of someone who’d do that for him.

He disregards your previous statement and instead addresses the obvious truth. “Don’t do that for me. You need sleep too.”

It draws a laugh from you. The way your eyes crease has his heart faltering. “I sleep more than enough, trust me.”

He peeks at you over the top of his tea cup, wishing he could freeze this moment in time, capturing how you look perfectly down to the miniscule curve of your lips so that he’ll never forget it. Maybe, he won’t have to.

He doesn’t need to ask because the answer is clear, but he does anyway.

“...Would you mind staying again tonight?”

#levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman drabble #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader fluff #levi fluff #levi drabble #levi ackerman imagine #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #aot fluff #snk fluff #aot x reader #snk x reader

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likeshipsonthesea · 3 years

Note

I don’t know if you take requests for nurseydex fics... but if you do the song “omg did she call him baby” by Beth McCarthy screams a heartbroken Nursey when Dex has a girlfriend

i like really can’t do genuine heartbreak but i CAN do angst that ends happy, so here’s my best shot :)

Nursey’s got a red Solo cup in one hand and a plastic champagne flute in the other and it’s sometime after three but before five and he is definitely not thinking about her or him or them together when he looks up between one sip and another to see the telltale blue hair reflecting the murky spotlights of the basement.

Nursey squints. He could be making things up--his brain is nice like that-- but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things. She’s got very distinctive hair, Dex’s--girlfriend. It’d been rather disappointing, actually, the blue hair. The whole thing had been easier to deal with when he’d been picturing some light-haired brunette going for an economics degree who smiled like a mom at soccer practice. Someone who Nursey could reasonably dislike on grounds of, like, predictability.

But no, Dex had to bring home a blue-haired physics major with a nose ring and good taste in music and the ability to out-argue Shitty while polishing off Bitty’s pie, i.e. perfect. Even Lardo couldn’t pretend like she wasn’t awesome for Nursey’s sake. Even Nursey can’t pretend like Amanda isn’t awesome for his own sake. She’s just so--so--

Nursey squints.

So-- making out with some random girl in a blouse at a frat party.

What the fuck.

Nursey is about two margaritas and three years too deep to be dealing with the emotional ramifications of catching the girlfriend of his best friend (who he’s also kind of sort of possibly maybe totally in love with) macking on some consultant for Goldman Sachs or some shit in the basement of arguably one of the worst frats at Samwell. This one doesn’t even have good music, Nursey’s only here to get drunk without the possibility of Dex calling Nursey Patrol and helping Nursey up the stairs and saying nothing about the poetry Nursey spills or the way his hands linger.

(Fuck does Nursey hate Nursey Patrol, fuck does he hate how much he loves it.)

Nursey downs the rest of the champagne flute--which was probably mostly orange juice at this point anyway-- and hands the red Solo cup to a freshman gearing himself up to talk to a cute boy a few feet away and then Nursey gets the fuck out of dodge. He manages to get a better look at the corporate recruiter Amanda is cheating on Dex with (and really, if you’re going to cheat on Dex, you’re really going to pick a chick in a blouse that probably has opinions on the stock market???) and if he hadn’t been sure before, the distinctive tattoo on Amanda’s shoulder proves that it’s really her.

(“Tattoos? Tattoos? I have tattoos.” “I know you do, Nurse.” “They’re really nice tattoos.” “I know they are, Nurse.”)

Emerging from the basement and then the frat house itself is instantly sobering. The chill from winter hasn’t quite left the air at night and Nursey wraps his arms around himself and doesn’t think about how Dex chirped him about not wearing a coat before he’d left. The frat isn’t far away from the Haus, thank god, but it is slightly farther when he turns left instead of right and then has to a backtrack a bit, but he still gets back in under ten minutes and he can still feel his hands, so overall, a win.

Attempting to get into the Haus quietly is a lost cause, given its one thousand year old floor and the fact that a ladybug could fart in the kitchen and wake up the guys in the attic. Still, Nursey gives it the good college try, which is why he’s creeping ridiculously through the living room when the light turns on suddenly and he screams, much to the amusement of Dex, standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Fuck, dude, what the fuck.”

Dex just smirks in that horribly attractive way of his. “How was the Psi-U basement?”

Nursey thinks of blue hair, washed out in the lights, Amanda’s hand on that girl’s cheek, the way Dex smiles when he’s around her. “Fine,” Nursey says, swaying.

The amusement falters and Nursey wishes he could figure out a way to keep the smile on Dex’s face the way Amanda does. Dex takes a step closer. “Are you alright?”

Nursey shakes his head violently and takes a step back, a step farther away. This is the part where he says yes, yes of course Dexy-darling, I’m right as rain, what about you? This is the part where Dex rolls his eyes and loops his arm around Nursey’s waist, his warm side pressed into Nursey’s. The part where they go upstairs, where Nursey writes his best poetry that he’s too embarrassed to write down when he’s sober, where Dex tells him to sleep well and lingers outside the doorway long enough for Nursey’s breathing to slow and then the floor creaks and Nursey knows he’s gone and wishes he’d held on just a little bit longer--

“Nursey, what’s wrong?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He means to say nothing, he means to say, I’m going to bed, he means to-- “Amanda, she--”

The concern turns to alarm. Why can’t Nursey ever make it better? “Is she alright? Did you see her? Is she okay?”

Nursey shakes his head again. He can’t seem to stop doing that. “She’s fine, she--she--” He swallows, and it’s sticky, cloying, citrusy and sweet on the back of his tongue. “She--there was this girl, she-- Amanda, she--”

Dex won’t stop frowning, concern knitting his eyebrows together with three short wrinkles, and Nursey has wanted to smooth them out with his fingertips every time he sees them since sophomore year, and he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be telling Dex this while he’s drunk, shouldn’t be telling Dex this at all, but he’s Nursey’s friend first and Nursey has to believe he’d tell Dex regardless of the love thing, he must--

“She was kissing some girl. In the Psi-U basement.”

The wrinkles smooth out. The amusement returns. Nursey--he can’t make sense of it over the ringing in his ears. Why is Dex smiling? Did--did Nursey do that?

“Did she look like a lawyer?” he asks, and at Nursey’s confusion clarifies, “The girl Amanda was kissing. Did she look like a lawyer?” Nursey nods dumbly. Dex’s smile only grows. Nursey is so, so confused and also more in love than he’s ever been. “Finally. I just won fifty bucks.”

What the fuck. “What the fuck.”

Dex laughs--laughs. “The girl’s name is Tammy. She graduated last year and moved to Boston. Amanda’s been in love with her forever, and I bet her that she’d get with Tammy before I--” Flush appears high on Dex’s cheeks, the soft pink one that means embarrassment and Nursey imagines would taste like cherry pie against his lips.

Nursey is--still quite a bit drunk. He needs--clarification. “You--you bet your girlfriend that she would get with her friend at a frat party?”

Dex’s nose scrunches up in Nursey’s favorite way--the same way it does when he’s trying to write humanities essays, the reason Nursey always says yes when Dex asks for help. “Girlfriend? Did you think Amanda was my girlfriend?”

Nursey remembers the start, hearing about Amanda every other day, then every day, then it was, sorry I can’t come, I’m meeting Amanda at-- and then one day at Annie’s, a girl with blue hair and a sharp grin yelled Babe! from across the room and planted a kiss on Dex’s cheek, her hand lingering on his shoulder, sipping from his coffee cup, getting him to smile like that--

“Well, yeah.” Nursey’s head is spinning and, for the first time tonight, not from the gin. “Is she--is she not?”

“Oh God, no, she’s so fucking gay, dude.” Laughter twinkles in Dex’s eyes. Nursey is drunker than he’s been since freshmen year of high school when Shitty snuck in some of his dad’s hard liquor and the janitors found them on the roof singing Disney songs at the moon. Dex’s girlfriend is gay. Dex’s girlfriend isn’t his girlfriend. Dex is--is smiling at him like he smiles at his girlfriend who isn’t his girlfriend.

“Oh,” Nursey says, dazed, “chill.”

“Oh wow,” Dex grins, leaning into the doorframe, “I can’t believe you thought--and you thought telling me my girlfriend was cheating on me at 3am while shit-drunk was a good idea?”

Nursey says, “Hey, honesty is important, and I’m not--” He stops. He remembers something. He squints. “Wait. If you bet 50 bucks on Amanda getting with Tammy, who did Amanda bet you would get with?”

The cherry pie blush is back. Nursey takes an absent-minded step forward. The room feels so much lighter now that Dex’s girlfriend isn’t cheating on him. The distance between them feels so much sillier now that Dex doesn’t have a girlfriend.

“Ah, well.” Dex rubs at the back of his neck, all country bumpkin sheepish to ask his sweetheart to the dance, and--and--

“I’m the sweetheart,” Nursey realizes with the kind of crystal clarity only afforded by the most copious amounts of alcohol.

Dex’s eyebrows furrow, those sweet little wrinkles appearing between them, and Nursey takes two long strides forward and presses his thumb into them. Dex goes cross-eyed trying to watch, but moves his eyes to meet Nursey’s after a moment.

Nursey grins, likely a bit sloppy from the gin, but he can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. “I’m the sweetheart,” he repeats, beaming.

Dex tries to repress the smile at his lips. “You’re not a sweetheart.”

“Yes I am,” Nursey sings, listing forwards. “You like me.”

“You’re an asshole.” Dex’s smile grows. Nursey watches its progress and sways.

“They’re not mutually exclusive,” he says, tracking the pink lips as they spread, revealing teeth and--and tongue and--

“I hate that you can still say mutually exclusive when you’re this drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. See, I’ll prove it.”

“How do you plan on--”

If Dex’s mouth weren’t so preoccupied, he might say that the taste on Nursey’s tongue is a good indication that he is in fact fairly tipsy, but as it is--well. He’s got other things to do.

(Amanda asserts that they tied since it happened on the same night and only pays $25. Tammy throws in five more and a condom and they call it even. Nursey kisses away Dex’s protest and pockets the condom, much to Amanda’s amusement. Turns out, she’s even cooler when she isn’t dating the love of Nursey’s life.)

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todourouki · 4 years

Text

Good Girls, Bad Guys | Dabi

a one shot

SUMMARY: The one where no one can understand why you’re so interested in Dabi, but you just can’t seem to help yourself. Maybe it was how soft he was when no one else was around, or how gentle his touch was against your skin, or maybe even how clumsy he is on purpose just to see you— whatever it was, you couldn’t get enough of the scarred man.

PAIRING: Villain!Dabi & Sweetheart!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: Explicit Language, Dabi purposely acts careless during missions so u can tend to his wounds because he’s an attention whore, Smut [18+]

Dabi was a complete mess.

He was a mess made of old silver staples, burnt purple skin adorning his lean and tall build, the same routined outfit that never seemed to alternate, unruly raven hair always managing to stay as distressed as the day before, and silky yet lewd words that slipped off his sinning lips as if it were his maiden tongue.

The only difference with his usual mess of an appearance today as he stood with arms crossed against his chest would be the large rip peaking through his black coat. Your eyes widened, rushing him into your living room and shutting the door behind him.

Your apartment was one that Dabi never seemed to get tired of. He had only really been in the living room, yet the cozy space always brought an odd sense of familiarity into his soul he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

He wasn’t sure if it was the plush and soft couches, pillows thrown against each cushion making it look just as soft and comfortable as they really were, or maybe it was the picture frames hanging around every wall with a candle on an invisible shelf not too far from the glass.

Either way, the steps he took in his plain black socks on to the carpet under the couches and coffee table brought him into a weird headspace one could only describe as happiness. It really did scare the shit out of him.

With a simple few set of steps, he swung his body down onto the cushions he always found himself sinking into at weird hours of the night like today. The only difference from the current night to others would be that it was an earlier hour, currently being only two in the morning as soft rain pattered against the windows adorning your cozy living area.

“Dabi..” Your soft words whispered into the silence of the room, hands gently hovering over the large cut in concern as you watched him throw you a rather forced smirk.

“Nothing worse than what I already got. Just patch me up like new, princess.” His words didn’t get the usual blush from your cheeks he always searched for after his usual flirtatious remarks filled the room.

All he was gifted with would be a look of sadness covering your usually content face. Without a word, you stood up and walked away towards what he assumed was your bathroom. All the man could do was furrow his eyebrows, the confused face remaining when you walked back into the couch and knelt down on the floor next to him.

“What’s wrong with you?” He bluntly asked, a once drawn eyebrow raising as you brushed the sleeve of his t-shirt off and eyed the dried up cut.

You continued to remain silent, only sighing as the alcohol pad in your hand made its way over to the open skin. Before the stinging sensation could reach his skin though, the opposing hand gripped onto your wrist and tugged it further away and just enough to make your eyes finally meet his.

The silence surrounded the room, Dabi staring at you in order to get you to speak. You were conflicted, of course you loved patching the man up almost every night and hearing about his wild adventures in words that made your eyes twinkle with excitement. Yet you were becoming exhausted of seeing him with a brand new scar eventually worse from the one than before.

“I just..” Your soft voice began, Dabi’s posture becoming subtly more relaxed the minute his favorite sound filled the room. “I get tired of seeing you get hurt all the time, you know?”

Your words made him smirk, the same infamous one he couldn’t seem to keep off his burnt lips. In one swift movement, he released your arm and pushed it back towards the large gapping wound that made your stomach turn.

“You worrying about me?” He questioned, the hand that once gripped your wrist now resting against your cheek as he stared at you mockingly.

It was hard to not get flustered around Dabi. He had such a way with words and always knew just how to get your ears to turn a hue of red you didn’t even know they were capable of becoming. You felt the heat flush to your cheeks and hoped the flattery you felt wasn’t too visible. Your face turned back to the large cut on his arm, ignoring his remark all together.

The minute the liquid reached his arm, a soft hiss you were used to slipped off his lips. You only weakened the grip on the cut, your bottom lip being tugged between your teeth in concentration.

“I have to get rid of the bacteria before I use my healing quirk— I’m sorry.” Your apology rang on deaf ears, and Dabi chose to ignore it in order to save your heart from thinking you hurt him.

He only nodded and placed his hand away from your cheek to behind his head in order to give his eye level some more precision on your face. You had a concentrated knit between your eyebrows, and he almost got worried you were forgetting to blink. This was an expression he was much too used to, yet every time he saw it gave him the same feelings he could never explain.

The silence in the room pained you both, the level of words usually slipping out of either of your lips being brought to an awkward zero. It was really uncomfortable, and you couldn’t deal with it anymore as you tossed the now bloodied up tissue somewhere on the ground.

Your hands replaced the tissue, a light reflecting across his arm and making a hiss leave his lips once again. You knew that the feeling of your healing quirk made him feel uncomfortable and he never really grew used to it yet. It shocked you though, because you’d think after being in this exact predicament probably over 100 times, he’d grown used to the prickling feeling.

“Where was this one from?” Your voice was still soft, trying to ease his mind off the pain in a way you knew was best for him.

Dabi loved the way you cared for him. The first time he met you was at the League of Villains hideout in a trashy old building he really hated. You walked in through that warp guy’s portal and the minute he saw you was the minute he believed in angels. It was like time stopped, and he really wasn’t a fan of finding people so attractive yet there you were.

You were announced to be the healer for the league. Shigaraki found you abandoned in some building destroyed in a fire you couldn’t remember, and finding refugee in the odd man was your only option to survival at that point. With that, you were granted as the only person with a full-blown apartment in the building in order to be available for their every need, and were granted immunity from being on actual missions.

That was good enough for you, though. You weren’t a violent person, and knowing most of their targets were children didn’t sit right with you. Despise that, you didn’t have the heart to quit and instead decided to spend the remainder of your days with the dysfunctional League. You had never felt genuinely needed the way the League needed you, and in some weird Stockholm syndrome way, you couldn’t shake the comfort you got from knowing they had to have you around to genuinely survive.

“If I tell you, you’d only worry more.” He smiled over at you, a rare sight blessing your wondering eyes and making you blush once more.

Dabi wasn’t a liar— that’s something that was well known amongst everyone in the league and even amongst you. So when he thought about what happened today, why he was sitting on your couch, and how he planned on hiding the truth from you, he had to mentally lecture himself for stretching the truth.

The real reason Dabi was getting patched up underneath your touch was because he chose to be.

He would never tell you, but the large and deathly gash on his arm was at first only a slight cut where a staple had fallen out. He chose to ignore it in the beginning and decided to check in with you about it after the weekend passed. Yet the minute he realized that meant he’d have to go several days without feeling your touch and hearing your voice made him change his mind completely.

With that, a tissue was wrapped into a ball and sitting in his lips and Dabi ended up watching himself remove a few staples from his arm and tug at the skin in a way that made him shiver. I literally tore myself open to see her, who the fuck does that?

Your hand had finished doing its job. Dabi could tell by the way the prickling ended, and he found his body getting pushed upwards and being replaced by the comfort of your chest against his back.

You positioned the both of you to where his body was leaning against your legs and chest in a way to make his arm in perfect reach for you. The stapler in your hand warned Dabi of what was to come, and he simply sat back against the comfort of your body heat with closed eyes.

“People that worry are people that care.” You whispered, the sound of the stapler pressing into his arm being the only other sound. Dabi’s face remained stoic as he drank in your words and let a loopy grin cover his bored expression.

“Are you saying that you care about me?” Dabi continued to tease, bright blue eyes now opening and staring into yours with flames threatening to shoot through his pupils.

You scoffed, finishing the last staple and replacing the metal object down with a bottle he recognized as the ointment you always forced him to wear after using his quirk. The cool of the cream made him sigh in content. The contrast of his burning skin to a cold burn-relieving cream brought pleasure into his body.

“I care about all of you— that’s why I do th-” “No, Y/N.” He interrupted, making you clam your mouth shut and listen to his words nervously. “I asked if you cared about me.”

You finished lathering the ointment on his skin, gently propping his body up against the backrest of the couch. He only slightly grimaced and tossed the bad arm on a side that didn’t interfere with his position. Your legs were now crossed underneath you.

“Of course I care about you, Dabi.” Your voice made a groan threaten to fall off his lips. There was nothing Dabi loved more than your voice, especially when you said his name. Whenever you spoke, he knew every one and everything didn’t matter if it wasn’t you and your vocal cords.

Dabi rolled his head to the side to make you face him. Even with a bad arm, he was able to now pick it up and peel his jacket off his body lazily.

“How much do you care about me?” The smirk playing weakly on his lips made you shiver, and just watching his expression brought butterflies to your stomach.

“A lot, that’s why I’m always ready to patch you up..” You mumbled, nervously looking down at your fingers and playing with the ring on your right index finger.

It wasn’t that you were shy— but the way Dabi’s eyes always followed yours brought a certain attraction you couldn’t stuff away. It was almost scary how much he made you squirm, even under something as simple as a gaze.

Sure, Dabi flirted with everyone. It didn’t take a genius to see that he flirted with you in a different way, though. His eyes always lingered longer on your frame when you entered the room, he spoke more words to you than he’s probably ever said in his life, and he always kept his endearing pet-names for you and only you.

“You wanna know something, doll?” He asked lowly, his face staring into yours intensely as you finally lifted your eyes to meet his and nodded your head.

Regardless of his appearance, regardless of his attitude, and regardless of the fact it’s Dabi, you knew that you were a goner from the start. You had a ridiculously annoying crush on him, and we’re pretty sure he could coerce you into doing just about anything. He probably knew that, too.

“I think I care about you more than anyone else here.” His words stitched onto your skin, the quietness seeming as if he feared anyone else would hear his words.

“You’re too good and innocent for this world.” He continued, a patchy hand stretching its way over towards your face and slowly rubbing at your cheeks.

You stood quiet, fearing that he’d stop his words all together and you wouldn’t be able to here the sincere tone he rarely spoke in. The only sound in the room one was able to hear was the pattering of water running down the window and your lit candles cracking amongst themselves. Your head leaned into his hand and let the warmth of his palm silk you in.

“That’s a problem though, baby.” Baby.. Your eyes widened at the new name, eyebrows furrowing and glancing over at him with a tilted head.

“What problem is there about that, Dabi?”

He chuckled, gliding his hand from your cheek to the back of your head as he grabbed a fistful of hair as soft as possible. He tugged your head closer towards his daringly. You breath began to shallow and you felt it, the excitement that always came with Dabi whenever he was around.

“You might be a bit too good for me.” He spoke as if he was trying not to scare you away. The timidness of words only brought you closer to him, finally feeling your chest collide with his arm as you were pressed against his side with your face dangerously close to his.

His blue eyes refused to leave yours, and the intensity of the situation made you nearly melt inside. It’s been a while since anyone ever said something like that to you, let alone a guy. A feeling jumpstarted your butterflies, and you ran your tongue against your bottom lip to hide the now dry sensation of your lips.

“I’m not too good for you, please don’t say that Dabi.” The way his name rolled off your tongue made him groan and grip your hair a little tighter.

You’d be lying if it didn’t feel good.

Your face was close enough to feel the heat run off his cheeks, and you knew that you wanted nothing more than to just collide your lips with his. The sexual tension he oozed was something you couldn’t handle, no matter how hard you clenched your thighs.

“You sure about that, princess?” You heard the dare in his voice and felt nothing but exhilaration run through your veins as if you were speeding down a highway on the opposite side of the road.

You weren’t sure when his hands reached your shorts-covered bottom, but you soon found yourself mumbling in surprise when your body was tossed (with literally one arm) across his figure in a straddling position. Your chest arched into his by the pressure he had on your ass, and a gulp slipped through your lips in embarrassment.

You refused to back down, though.

“I’m really sure, Dabi.”

You knew the effect you had on him when you mentioned his name, and he knew by the way he smirked up at you. His other arm was still limp on his side, but that didn’t stop his dominant and good arm from groping every inch of your lower half. You were trying your hardest to cover a moan, yet the minute he gripped a piece of your thigh close enough between the other, you couldn’t help but slam your lips against his.

Dabi tasted like what you would expect him to taste like. The saliva that trailed from his throat down yours had the taste of metal and mint chewing gum. The taste became something you grew familiar to within seconds of smacking your lips against his, and by the way his body gripped you closer to his, you could tell he enjoyed your taste just as well.

Dabi’s mind went empty at the way your tongue moved against his. He couldn’t believe that his pretty little girl could kiss him like this, letting out secret moans into his lips in a way that made sinning sound like a good idea. He also couldn’t believe how fast he got hard, the bulge pressing against his jeans in a way he just couldn’t work with.

You felt it, and your body began to nervously rock back and forth in a way to secretly relieve yourself. Before you started to press your body down harder, Dabi’s free hand slipped up to your hair again and pulled your head back with a tinge of softness. He was out of breath and flustered, and you were sure you looked just as distraught as him.

“Listen,” he panted, his hand letting go slightly of the grip and groaning at the way your lips swelled up in a coat of his own saliva, “if you start something, I won’t able to not finish it. I also won’t go slow.”

The words activated a switch in your head, eyes widening as you stood up from his lap. Before he could question your actions or even grow a bit disappointed at the idea of you not wanting to continue, his eyes nearly jolted out of his skull. Before him stood you, clad in a pair of plain white panties and your shorts thrown on the ground from where you had dropped them. If Dabi wasn’t already obsessed before, he knew he was nothing but smitten now.

You stood quiet and he followed suit as you took your place back into his lap. Without glancing at him, you fiddled with his belt and loosened the grip around his hips.

Dabi really wanted to stop you. He really fucking did. Yet watching you focus on nothing but trying to take his clothes off made him unable to move and speak. It was like he was brainwashed, and he nearly died the minute you sat up to push his pants down.

“I-I-Y/—” “Shh.”

Your fingers covered his mouth as you continued to stare down at his pants in focus. You knew he was trying to stop you, but you wanted to continue. You knew you wanted him to know that you were just as fond of him as he made it seem he was for you.

After struggling to shimmy his pants off his lanky legs with one arm since you were still trying to shut up him, you watched his body lie limp across your couch in nothing but a shirt and black briefs.

It was like heaven in front of your eyes.

You licked your lips, shyly taking a seat on top of him and removing your hand. Your fingers made their way over to his chest. You wanted to take his shirt off and feel the skin to skin contact, but you knew how Dabi was about that stuff. He’d never say it, but you knew he was insecure of the uneven portions of skin there.

He tilted your head up with a finger and brought your wide eyes to his. “What do you want to do, doll? It’s whatever you want.”

The words brought goosebumps up your spine. The way he said it just made you weak, each word slipping off his lips like the air you needed to breathe and you soon found yourself whimpering at the sentence you knew he set up for this exact reaction. You could tell by how smugly he watched you writhe under his words.

You thought about your next sentence carefully. His arm was injured, and you weren’t sure if he was as into this as you were. Sure, making out and dry-humping was cool for a while— but would he be okay with jumping straight into sex? Sure, most people go through an extensive amount of foreplay in order to get the mood going, but you didn’t really want to. His arm was hurt, and all you wanted to do was watch him squirm under you as you made him feel good.

“I want to ride you.” The sudden confidence of your voice made him stammer, eyes watching you as they twitched in excitement. He had never realized how much he’d wanted those words to slip off your pretty lips but he was beyond estatic to hear them he meant for him and only him.

He didn’t respond, only pressing you into his lips with the hand gripping your hair and taking your mouth by surprise. Your tongues moved in sync, and you could feel yourself only growing wetter and wetter from just the way he pounded his lips into yours.

Before you could stop yourself, you moved your fingers to the waistband of his briefs and pushed them back just enough to hear something heavy smack against his stomach. Yes, something heavy.

He gripped your hair again and this time with much more intensity, broke your lips apart and pushed your head away from his. From the quick glance you gave him, you could see his nearly throbbing dick rest against his lean stomach in a way that nearly teased you. His lips were wet and his eyes were clouded with desire.

“I want to watch your face when you sit down on my dick, Y/N.”

The assertiveness made you nod your head obediently. Instantly following his commands, you rested your body onto your knees and pushed your panties to the side. A soft hand gripped his dick, and the way he sucked his breath in at the contact made you smile smugly.

He didn’t realize though, since his eyes were now trained on your dripping heat inch closer towards his dick. He counted in his head, preparing himself to sink into the place he wanted to get into the most.

5. Your hands slowly swirled up and down his dick, pumping gently enough to prepare his body to take you up yet to also evoke a moan from his lips. And Dabi doesn’t moan.

4. Your eyes never left his the minute you had a good enough grip on him, and just that alone made some precum slip through his tip.

3. He thought you looked so pretty getting ready to sit down on his cock. ‘Imagine when she’s actually riding me, fuck.’

2. To prep yourself up a bit more, you lathered you’re wetness with a swipe of your thumb against his tip, the sensation making him suck in an incoherent curse.

1. This was your moment. Usually Dabi wanted to take control, and usually in his fantasies about you, it was you getting drilled into your own bed in a way that had you forgetting how to scream. This was different though. Dabi wanted to see what you were going to do.

Before he could even continue his thoughts, the feeling of a soft, extremely wet, and tight hole covered his penis agonizingly slow. With squinted eyes in pleasure, he watched as your face moved from that smug smile to a look of focus and surprise. Within just the first few inches, you already felt as if your insides were more full than possible.

Growing impatient yourself was something you knew would be a bad idea, but you couldn’t help it. So with that, you let go of all strain in your knees and in your hands and let your body drop fully into his embrace. Just like that, you imagined he was probably in your damn gut at this point.

“You’re so big.” You gasped, the vulgar words coming out of your lips making Dabi groan even more than he already was at the sudden contact.

You took a few more minutes to take him in as your vagina just refused to take all of him in. For a skinny guy like him, the weight he carried down there definitely made up for it and you weren’t complaining.

Before you knew it, you felt the need to continue. With that, you dragged your hands up to Dabi’s face and gripped the sides in yours. His lips met your lips, and you began to grind your body against his in order to control your pace for the time being.

You had to rip your lips off his as your slowly found yourself bouncing against him. The movements were so sudden, Dabi didn’t expect it and found his eyes slamming shut in pleasure as his free-hand gripped your ass cheek roughly.

“Fuck Y/N.” He moaned, making you feel only more determined than before.

His praises (which really only consisted of moans, groans, and the word fuck) egged you on, and before you knew it, you were bouncing your body up and down with such speed and intensity, Dabi couldn’t even say a word.

You were fucking him so good, he couldn’t even speak.

Dabi wasn’t sure if it was the way you slipped your body all the way up to his tip only to slam back down, or if it was the quick and loud moans that left your lips so richly, or if it was the trail of wetness coming down from your lower heaven pooling into his light pubic hairs. Whatever it was though, was causing him to see stars.

As thunder cracked in the background, all you could focus on was the sounds of your thighs and body slapping into Dabi’s in a perfect motion.

“D-Dabi—” you moaned loudly, the words falling off your lips quicker than you could handle, “I-You-You feel so— so fucking good.”

The word good dragged out longer than you liked, your screams being reduced to whimpers due to not wanting anyone else to hear you. Dabi watched you, groans coming out of his lips matching yours in a way that made you grow in intensity.

Your hips moved harder and faster, finally finding your own G-Spot and beginning to see stars in your trail of sight.

“You look- look so fucking pretty— taking my cock like this— baby.” The name only made you yelp, whimpering as your eyebrows furrowed and began to thrash your ass tight vagina in a quick notion of in, out, grind, out, grind, in, and over and over again.

There were many things you did to impress Dabi. Honestly, the way you breathe was something Dabi wanted to praise you with in itself. This, however, was beyond him.

Watching you throw yourself against his dick, eyes crossing and drool slipping across your still swollen lips, ass that he was gripping onto as if it would leave forever clapping against his skin, whimpers and cries coming out of your throat was something that Dabi now believed he wanted to be the only thing he ever saw again.

“Just like that doll, I want to see you cum-see you cum all over me.” He managed to get out, face scrunching as he felt his tip slam into a certain part of your pussy that damn near sent vibrations down his long length. He had never felt pussy this good before, and maybe it was just because he was attracted to you, but whatever it was— was driving him absolutely insane.

You felt your stomach tighten, a trail of curses coming out of both you and Dabi’s mouths in synch. You continued to bounce against him. Somehow, the position you were in where you were now on your feet only allowed you to ride him harder and faster than before. Dabi nearly passed the fuck out.

You, on the other hand, were definitely already gone. Watching his face scrunch up, staples clattering as his hair began to stick to his forehead and his lips rip your name and curses like they were the only words he knew— you couldn’t handle it. With that, the pressure in your stomach grew.

“Do-don’t worry about me baby—” he could feel your hole beginning to tighten up more and more, the sensation feeling as if you were milking his cock from the inside and dragging his cum up involuntarily.

“B-but I wanna cum with you.” You whined out, head thrown back in nothing but pure ecstasy.

He could see your tits bounce harshly against your shirt, yet for some reason, he couldn’t bring it upon himself to burn the stupid material off. For a flashing moment in time, he thought about how your eyes trailed against his covered chest.

“I know b-baby.” You said, snapping him from his stare at your chest and up to your now clearly red face. “I-I ke-kept it on so that we-we both have our shirts on.”

That itself, nearly brought Dabi over the fucking edge. The simple fact that you were so fucking considerate, enough to do some little shit like that drove him insane.

Without blinking, the limp hand once thrown on the couch was now gripping onto your body. You couldn’t say anything though, because his other hand gripped the couch and brought him to an angle to where he began to obliterate you.

With nothing but a gasp being able to come out of your locked jaw, your eyes rolled back at the way his drilled in and out of you in a nearly barbaric manner. His arm gripped around your waist in order to bring himself to more pleasure, and you found yourself bouncing up and down in order to counter him and bring more force into the slams.

“Holy fucking shit.” He yelled, his jaw tightening as he began to whimper.

You were fucking him back, your hands tugging at his raven hair roughly and your lips drooling at the sensation in a way that made you seem to be out of your headspace. Just like that, your stomach tightened up and warned you that you had about a second to let him know you were going to literally cream yourself.

You heard his staples more than usual, yet ignored the small noises in order to focus on the grip pressed against your body.

“Dabi I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.” You repeated, your voice hoarse and whined out from the way he fucked your brain into overdrive.

All that could be heard were your pleas of pleasure, Dabi’s hips slamming into your hips that slammed into his, the wet sounds of your pussy continuously being filled up to the brim by Dabi, and the couch beginning to squeak at the roughness.

Without catching a breath, Dabi’s hand roughly scratched its way up to your hair and tugged you to face him.

“Cum now.”

The order made your eyes roll back. You weren’t sure just how close you were, but just him commanding you to do it made you finally fall over the edge. The feeling of his dick shooting into you made you topple over onto his chest, cries leaving your lips as you orgasmed harder than you probably ever have before.

The sight you once had disappeared as you saw nothing but stars and darkness. The air once resting in your lungs cleared out, and nothing was able to leave your throat other than Dabi’s name over and over again as if it were your religion.

Dabi followed suit, finally resting underneath you and gasping for air from the orgasm he just came down from. His cock stood in you, still warm and twitching from the stimulation still being given from your tightness.

Nobody said anything, voices too tired, bodies too sticky and stuck together, and minds too empty to even be able to form a sentence. Your legs had given up on you, finally wrapped behind Dabi’s back as you clung onto him for your dear life.

“Baby.” Dabi called out softly, his raspy voice making you snap out of your fucked out trance. You looked at him, eyes barely being able to hold themselves open as your body wobbled against his.

“Let me clean you up, okay?” He softly asked, his hand gently pushing some hair still stuck to your cheeks behind your ears. You bit your lip and defiantly shook your head.

“Can we clean up tomorrow?” You asked shyly, hands rubbing up and down his chest as your voice pleaded for him to listen. “I just want to sleep with you for the rest of the night.”

The minute you looked at him with those wishful eyes and small pout, he found it really fucking hard to say no. He wasn’t really planning on staying, but now he wasn’t sure if he was ready to even think about leaving.

Agreeing with your plea to stay, he twisted his body enough to where he was finally lying down on the couch from one end to the other. He dragged your body with him, adjusting you to where your legs were tangled up and your head taking comfort on his shirt-clad chest.

With the way he just fucked your lights out, and the way he softly spoke to you and rubbed your back, you found it even harder to keep your eyes open. It was no surprise when Dabi somehow managed to turn the singular lamp on that was on the table next to him off only to find you slightly snoring on his chest.

So many times, he warned himself that when the day he got to go inside of your wet, sweet heaven came, he’d stay up and take advantage of being able to look at your fucked out expression some more.

But due to how good you rode his dick, how good you kissed him, and how good you felt weaves into his body, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and fall into the same slumber as you with his hands tightly wrapped around your frame and a small smile playing at his lips.

—

cue the song overdue by travis scott because this took me like a week to write for some reason 🥴 writers block aint no mf JOKE! Anyways, i hope you guys enjoyed! I did get an anon ask somewhat similar to it though so that kinda got me to finish. So anon, whoever you were that sent that one Dabi anon in about reader being a healer and such, thanks for saving the day 😔👍🏾 anyways YEA please don’t let this flop idk why y’all don’t like Dabi </3 smh no substance! Also this is hella unedited and guess what? Idc. If you see a typo though, please lmk.

don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, and follow me if u a real one

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

Text

Fire and Ice

hello, hope you’re all doing well. i’m doing a double feature today since its the 20th here in aus. so todays fic is for day 19 and 20 (like, if u squint lol).

its a lil bit more angsty then i planned for it to be in the beginning, but its got some fluff at the end. (also, again, i borrowed the 10 month pregnancy plot from acotar)

1.9k words

enjoy!

The bathroom tiles were cool against Aelin's clammy skin as she slowed her breathing. As she willed herself to stop feeling so dizzy.

Four months into her first pregnancy and Aelin soon came to realise what the worst part of pregnancy; the morning sickness.

Or, as Aelin liked to call it, 'whenever it rutting happened' sickness. Morning, midnight, dawn, she often found herself running towards a bathroom, emptying her stomach loudly for the whole damned kingdom to hear.

She was aware of the rumours flying around, that there were friendly bets going throughout the city as to whether or not Terrasen was going to have a prince or princess (apparently, the majority were betting for a boy, but Aelin didn't care what she had, as long as they were healthy), but neither her or Rowan confirmed the pregnancy, and so the rumours stayed as gossip, until she and Rowan were comfortable enough to officially announce it.

Aelin wanted to wait because of how hard it was to conceive—it had taken her and Rowan over three years to be successful, and while she knew that three years wasn't that long, it was still hard when nothing happened—and was scared that if she said it out loud, then something horrible would happen. She hadn't even told her friends, although she knew that they knew; the rumours would have reached them. She appreciated that they hadn't asked either of them. Other than Rowan, the only other person that knew of her pregnancy was her personal healer, Magnolia. Other than Yrene, the demi-Fae was a healer than Aelin felt comfortable around, because even after a decade later, she still had nightmares about her time in Maeve and Cairn's cruel hands, the never ending chain of healers coming to fix her so she could be tortured again and again.

Rowan wanted to wait because of everything that happened to Lyria and their child. There were many nights when Aelin would wake up and find Rowan just watching her, his hand against her slowly growing stomach, and not only could she see the pain in his eyes as he thought back on what happened all those centuries ago, she could also feel it, like a living thing. Aelin knew that Rowan did his best to stop her from sensing his dread, but she wasn't a fool, and she would have known how he was feeling even if they didn't have the bond between them, even if she was miles away, she would know.

The bathroom door opened and Rowan was helping her up, his hands warm and gentle against her clammy skin.

Aelin was far too tired to ask if one of her handmaids called for Rowan after Aelin ran from their shared closest and into the bathroom, or if he felt her distress through the bond.

It was probably both. She would ask once her head stopped spinning.

Resting her head against her mate's chest, Aelin breathed in his scent, letting the pine-and-snow of him calm her senses. His strong arms wrapped around her, his tattooed hand running up and down the length of her spine as his right hand was a steady presence against her lower back.

How long they stayed like that, Aelin wasn't sure, but once her head stopped spinning, she rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the pungent vomit taste that was lingering. Once satisfied that the taste was gone, Aelin let Rowan lead her to bed—not the closest.

“Rowan—” she started to say, but her husband cut her off.

“That was a strong one, and Magnolia said that it's best to rest afterwards.” So he felt it through the bond, then. “I'll take over, and you can stay in and read that book you've been eyeing all week.”

She should say no, that she was fine, but a day of rest did sound nice and probably something she desperately needed without knowing it—and she really had been wanting to read the book that Dorian had sent her the other week (which she had to write a detailed review of when she sent it back. It was one of her favourite past times, especially if it was a book that Dorian loved, but she didn't particularly like, because his response to her review was always the most dramatic thing that always made her laugh).

“Fine,” Aelin said, “I'll rest and you can go deal with Head Teacher of the Academy.”

Rowan groaned at the mention. The Fae male that ruled the magic school was nice, but just so damned pedantic that he had a say about everything. And everything was falling apart, according to him, despite the fact that the school was built only five years ago. “I swear,” Rowan grumbled, “that if he complains to me that the school halls aren't the right shade of brown, I'll throw him out the window.”

Aelin laughed, because she had said the same thing when the male had come around complaining that the roof tiles were crooked last month and she had sent Rowan to check on said tiles (and what a surprise to absolutely no one that the tiles weren't at all crooked), but that wasn't enough for the Head Teacher, when he came back the next week, he wanted the tiles replaced.

If he wasn't so damned talented and good with children and running the school, she would have had him fired for being a nuisance. But unfortunately, neither she or Rowan couldn't just get rid of him because he was annoying.

“Make sure that your shirt is tucked in neatly, or you'll get the same speech about cleanliness like last time.”

Rowan flared his nostrils at that, but said nothing as he got up and changed his crumpled tunic for a fresh one—not at all tucked in—and began his fussing.

Truthfully, she was surprised that he lasted that long.

He left her a glass of water, and a pitcher full of the liquid on her nightstand, and the bowl of seasonal fruit next to it. Next was opening the balcony doors to let in the fresh air, and then the fluffing of pillows and straightening of the quilt and bed sheets—Aelin may have teased him a little by saying that the sheets were too tight, and then too loose, having to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as he huffed at her ever-changing mind, until she decided that the sheets were just right after five minutes of readjusting.

Aelin watched it all with a small smile on her face, even as she grumbled about his fussing tendencies—but she knew he did it from a place of love, and that he wanted her and the baby to be comfortable.

He even went as far as to check her forehead, and gave her a wash cloth to freshen her up from her earlier sweating. At least she was already in a cotton nightgown and didn't have to get changed—although she knew that if she had too, Rowan would have brought the clothes over himself.

Once he was satisfied that Aelin was comfortable, he left with a kiss on the lips and a promise that he would see her once he was free, Aelin cracked open the book, but fell asleep thirty minutes later with an unexpected headache, a hand on her stomach.

X X X X X X

It was a rare day when Rowan had an empty afternoon, there was always someone to see, something to do, someone to write back to, that when Rowan finished his meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen and there was no one waiting for him in the audience chamber, Rowan was the first to leave the meeting, needing to check on Aelin. He hated how pale she looked when he left, but when he spoke to Magnolia quickly, the skilled healer told him that it was perfectly normal, but she would check in on Aelin to make sure that everything was okay—and since he wasn't called for during any of his meetings, he took that as a sign that things were fine.

The fact that the bond was quiet also assured him. He had tugged on it during at some point when one of the Lords was rambling, and he got a tired tug back, effectively telling him that Aelin was sleeping. So he let her be, and he sat in his worried state alone.

Rowan was excited for the baby, to take this step with Aelin, but Gods, he'd also hadn't been this tense, this paranoid that something was going to happen in so long. Rowan didn't think he'd feel like himself until he held their child in his arms, but Aelin still had six months to go.

And sometimes...sometimes he found himself wondering about the child he lost with Lyria. What they would have looked liked, if they would have been tall and broad like him, or slim like her. He also wondered how long their child would have been safe before Maeve claimed the child, having them trained to be a warrior like Rowan, or if Maeve would have cast them aside like she had done to Lyria, who Maeve saw as nothing but a pawn to use and toss aside.

His thoughts kept spiralling, his mind going from one thing and another, but stopped when he heard the sloshing of water and a relived sigh once he got closer to his rooms. He made his way through the space and soon came to the bathroom where Aelin was resting against the porcelain tub. Her skin was a light pink from the hot water, but otherwise looked healthy.

Rowan just stood and watched her for a moment and let the contentment from the bond wash over him. The steam danced through the air, carrying Aelin's scent with it, and the indescribable scent of their child within her.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon?” Aelin asked, her eyes still closed, “or are you going to join me?”

Rowan decided to join her, managing to hold back his wince as he made contact with the boiling water—how Aelin found the hot as hell water relaxing he would never know.

When he was comfortably behind her, Aelin leaned against his chest, and took his hands and placed them against her growing belly.

“Magnolia visited me a few hours ago,” she said. “She says that soon the nausea will pass.”

“Good,” he said, letting the words settle in him.

Rowan was about to lean back against the bath when Aelin's fire filled the air in thin ribbons, moving as smoothly as water as it flew past him. His own magic moved in response, and soon his ice and wind joined her fire, going around the room, filling it up with the differences in temperature. And from the tub, a water butterfly the size of Aelin's palm lifted into the air, its movements delicate but strong as it came towards him. Aelin turned to look at him, her brows furrowed lightly in concentration.

The butterfly came to rest on his nose, and then exploded in his face.

Aelin laughed at his incredulous expression. Rowan shot forward and flicked water in her face, and soon almost all of the bath water was on the floor as they splashed at each other back and forth.

Rowan's troubles melted away with his ice and Aelin forgot about all of her nausea and stress temporarily.

Aelin couldn't wait to meet her baby, and she knew that Rowan was the same.

Six months couldn't come soon enough.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Note

CONGRATS ON 100 FOLLOWERS FREN 💖💖 you deserve it and so much more

If you're feeling up to it (DONT FEEL OBLIGATED DO U HEAR ME MY DEAR) movie verse Jay my beloved

asfljdlkj tysm Amour! I'm so glad to have you as part of my tumblr family, ur one of my best friends on here 💕✨

i really needed to write something movie!verse because I LOVE movie!verse and haven't written anything yet, so I was excited for this one

(@fabro-de-omres you've said in the past that you would love to read it if I wrote something movie!verse, so here's ✨content✨)

I'll chase you to the moon and back

Summary: When you’re in a secret ninja force and are your city’s primary protectors, pulling your weight is important.

Jay tries to be an asset to his team, but it’s difficult when he’s viewed as the scaredy-cat who cracks lame jokes. He loves his friends with all his heart, but sometimes it’s hard to know if they return those feelings.

Jay wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t.

Sometimes, Jay felt like he was a burden to the team.

He tried not to, he really did- he knew the others liked him and cared about him. But standing next to strong Cole, smart Zane, brave Kai, determined Nya, or warm-hearted Lloyd, it was difficult not to feel… inadequate.

It didn’t help that Cole hadn’t answered any of his recent texts.

It could be anything, Jay told himself as he stared down at the unread messages, resisting the urge to send another text. He could have an appointment he forgot to tell me about, or maybe he’s just not looking at his phone right now, or he simply doesn’t share my urgency to answer a text message so quickly. Cole had always been much more laid back about that, raising an eyebrow as Jay always scrambled to answer the text from his mom, or whoever had sent it this time.

But Cole was also Jay’s best friend. He knew he got anxious when someone left him unread for too long. Because of that, he had always been good about answering Jay’s texts quickly, even as the others still groaned about the earth ninja taking ages to respond to them.

For him to go an hour without responding was… concerning, to say the least.

Jay pushed the thoughts aside. He was probably just overthinking this, like he always was. Cole would get back to him soon. It wasn’t like he was ignoring him, or anything.

Maybe the others are up to something. He opened the group chat, but although there were usually a hundred notifications at any given time- he had learned that the hard way the first day he had joined, turning on his phone after school to a whopping 785 texts- it was empty now. The last text was from Lloyd, asking Kai to meet him at his locker before lunch.

Jay felt his heart rate spike. The lack of an argument between Kai and Nya in the last five minutes alone was worrying- because heaven forbid they actually talk things out in person, even if they literally lived one bedroom down from each other- and his mind quickly spiraled into possibilities. Had someone kidnapped them? Had their parents grounded them? Or maybe they had committed a crime and gotten thrown into jail. He wouldn’t put it past Kai and Nya to pull something dumb- Cole and Zane would go along with it, and Lloyd would never speak up enough to voice his disproval-

No, don’t be ridiculous, they wouldn’t commit a crime.

Well… Kai might. But the others would stop him.

What if they made a separate group chat without me?

No. His friends would never do that. They’d be more likely to commit that crime.

But the thought wouldn’t leave Jay’s brain, and before he knew it, he was sending a text in the group chat.

jaybird123: What r u guys up to? Wanna hang?

He immediately regretted it. What if he came off as too clingy? Too overbearing? They probably just wanted some time to themselves.

That didn’t sound quite right to Jay, but he stuffed his phone in his pocket, forcing the thought out of his mind.

He decided to go to the park- watching the people there always gave him good ideas for inventions. He was too late to catch a bus down there, but it wasn’t too far to walk.

His phone buzzed, and he glanced down.

thegreendragon: sorry jay, got plans 2nite. maybe tmrrw?

Jay tried to stop the pang of disappointment. Lloyd wouldn’t lie to him. The others probably were just busy. It was no big deal. Tomorrow, things would be back to normal.

A couple of blocks away, he caught the sounds of annoyed shouts, the kind that usually hinted towards the presence of-

He stopped, blinking, as a boy darted past the onlookers and into the shop.

Huh. Lloyd?

Starting towards the store his friend had vanished into, Jay peered through the window, looking for Lloyd-

Jay froze. Lloyd was standing with the others, animatedly babbling something to them as they watched him happily.

Jay shrunk back. They really had met up without him, and had lied about it, too. He wasn’t being paranoid- his friends just didn’t want him around.

For a moment, the shock left Jay floundering. He had no other friends. The other ninja were his entire livelihood. What was he meant to do now?

He quickly wiped at the tears pooling in his eyes. I’ll go home. My mom will know what to do.

He had the worst feeling that this was something that even his mom couldn’t fix, though.

About halfway home, a buzz in his pocket interrupted him from his stupor. Pulling out his phone, he saw there was a new message in the group chat.

rock’n’cole: hey jay, something just came up, can u meet us at the warehouse asap?

Jay just stared at his phone for a minute, debating whether to actually show up or not. After all, the others had ditched him, why shouldn’t he do the same? And he still felt hurt- he wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk to them yet. He really should just go home.

jaybird123: sure, i’ll be there in 20

Jay had never been good at holding grudges.

Thirty minutes later (he had ended up stalling a little bit just for the spite of it) he pushed through the doors of the warehouse. It was pitch black inside, and as he fumbled around for the lights, he couldn’t help but notice that no one else was there. It was stupid of me to come. They just abandoned me. Again.

Suddenly, the lights burst on, and the others were jumping out from behind the furniture, cheering and hugging him. Jay stumbled backward, taken aback. “What’s going on?”

Kai looked at him like he was crazy, gesturing widely at all the balloons and streamers that Jay could see now that the lights were on. “It’s a party, dumbass, what else do you think?”

“What for? It’s not my birthday!”

Nya scoffed, as if he had just told her that men lived on the moon. “Of course not, this is for your Ninja-versary!”

“My… what?”

“The anniversary of the day you first became a ninja, stupid!”

“Oh.” He blinked around at all the decor. “All this? Just for something as simple as that?”

Kai wasn’t the only one looking at him like he had sprouted a second head, now.

“Are you kidding?” Cole said. “We’re not going to skimp on celebrating the day one of our favorite people came into our lives.”

Jay blinked at him. “I…” I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

“Now, what are we waiting around for?” Cole threw an arm around Jay’s shoulders. “Let’s go get some cake!”

As the ninja hurried over to the table, squabbling over who would get which slice, Jay squashed between the middle of his big, loud, bickering family, he couldn’t have felt more at home.

#:D #movie characters are so fun y'all #i'll definitely have to write something that explores all of them more not just jay #but i'll save that for something longer so i can do it properly #and coming up with their chat usernames was the highlight of this piece XD #i have more for the others as well and this is going to remain canon within all my movie fics #ninjago #asks #amourshipper393 #fic request #event #100 followers event #ficlet #my fic #rosie writes #movie!verse #tlnm #jay walker #requests open

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

Note

imagine like riding harry and he’s choking you and mocking you bc you can barely move your hips bc it feels too good. and then you have to beg him to fuck up into you 🥵🥵

Word Count: 3,021

A/N: This was also partially inspired by another anon request I got that read :

‘one where Harry and yn doing a painting with a twist or bob ross painting together but making it a bit smutty’

Warning: SMUT!!!!!!!!! lots of smut!! Choking, dom behavior. Just nasty.

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

And don’t forget to let me know what you think! Enjoy.

CLICK HERE TO READ OTHER COMPLETED STORIES

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Loving You Is Art

Quality time with Harry was few and far between these days. It seemed that the two of you were constantly being pulled apart in every which direction, what with him preparing for a new album release and your career finally gaining momentum. You were lucky if you were even able to sit down at the end of the day and eat a meal together without interruption. You should be used to it by now after two years of dating, but it never got any easier.

He tried his best; leaving a note for you on the kitchen counter in the morning next to a pot of coffee, sending little texts throughout the day, and calling to warn you if he’d be late. Communication was important to you and he made an effort to show it. But sometimes that wasn’t enough. You missed him.

So, you decided to surprise him. You’d planned tonight for two weeks now, making sure to get caught up on your work, calling Harry’s manager to ask him if he could please not plan too much on this particular Friday without tipping your boyfriend off, and order in all the supplies for your date night. You wanted to make it extra special so when Harry walked in the door he’d not only be surprised, but excited.

He had texted you when he left his meeting and you knew you had about fifteen minutes to get it ready. Quickly, you spread an enormous tarp across the floor of your living room, dragging in two chairs, two easels, two canvases, a large canvas sheet that you spread over the floor, and a table with paintbrushes, a cup of water, and various paints. Lastly, you stripped out of your clothes and put on only three items. A black, silk robe, a pair of black strappy heels, and Harry’s pearl necklace, twisting your hair up into a clip and letting the strands drape back down. As you poured two glasses of wine, you heard the door open and close, heavy footsteps making their way further into the home you both shared.

“Baby? What’s all this?” you heard his voice echo down the hall.

The clacking of your heels caught his attention as you made your way in, wine glasses in hand, and the confused smile on his face shifted, replaced with wide eyes and his mouth falling open.

“Hi,” you smirked, pecking at the corner of his mouth. He leaned into you as you pulled away, disappointed that you parted from him so quickly, taking the glass of wine that you offered. “Strip,” you simply said, sitting on a chair that was positioned in front of one of the easels, taking a sip of your wine.

He didn’t need any further explanation, quickly doing what he was told. You giggled under your breath at his eagerness as he kicked his shoes off and practically tore the shirt off of his torso, exposing his black ink-riddled tattoos, undressing until all that was left was his boxers. Your smirk grew, placing your wine glass on the table beside your easel and standing up. Keeping your eye contact, you lifted the end of the strap that had held your robe shut, looping it through your fingers, teasingly. His eyes darted from your face, down towards your hand, and back up again as you shifted your weight on your heels.

“All the way,” you nodded towards him, your voice low and sultry, and with one hard tug, you ripped your sash away, letting your robe come undone and flitter to the ground at your feet.

Harry froze for a moment, staring at your naked body, the way your legs looked in your heels and noting how his pearls looked against your bare chest. He gulped, speechless, unable to move until you sat back down on your chair, crossing your legs, leaning back, and pulling your glass of wine back to your lips. If you blinked, you would have missed it. His boxer briefs were halfway across the room a second later, his cock large and erect, bouncing as he hustled to his chair and sat.

He seemed to understand what was going on as you each grabbed a brush, but you explained it anyway, “Paint me,” you grinned, making him smile.

“I won’t be able to do you justice,” he looked you up and down with a smirk, looking at the color options, “Especially with only three colors.”

You giggled, dipping your brush into the black paint, “Do your best.”

You lightly began blotting and stroking the color onto the canvas, occasionally looking up at him in an attempt to get a general outline first. You weren’t a great artist, he knew this. That’s why you didn’t even bother getting a large selection of colors. Most of the artwork in your home was more modernized with a combination of abstract and contemporary, anyway. So you decided to stick with the theme and colors which were black, white, and hints of a baby blue.

You tried to focus your painting more on his torso, from his chin down to his pelvic area, just where his pubic hair began to form. You peered at him through your eyelashes and bit your bottom lip at the sight of his abs tightening and relaxing as he went to town on his canvas, widely brushing his paint onto his canvas.

“Done!” he exclaimed, throwing his brush into the cup of water.

You snapped out of your trance, your mouth opened wide in indignation, “There’s no way!”

“I am!” he declared, a confident smirk on his face, “You told me to paint you, so I did!”

“Let me see!” you demanded, gripping your paintbrush in hand, black paint beginning to drip down the handle.

Confidently, Harry picked his painting off the easel and turned it around to face you. Your eyes rolled wildly when you saw what he had done. He painted the background black, and in baby blue paint drew a childlike version of tits that looked like two u’s with dots for nipples.

“Great. Well done, you twat,” you joked, flinging the paint that was on the end of your brush in his direction which splattered on his painting, also hitting his chest and thigh.

He shrieked, staring at the paint that hand landed on him before looking up with a mischievous smile. “Oh, is that how we’re playing it? Sabotage?” he gaped, head tilted as he reached for another paintbrush, dipping it into the white.

“Harry!” you threatened, giggling, hands up in defense, “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I?” he mocked, holding his paintbrush back in ready, “Last I checked, you were the one who threw the first punch.” And he launched the paint towards you, white paint splattering across your neck, chest, and arm.

You yelped, quickly standing up in shock that he had done it. Harry cackled at the expression on your face as you slowly looked up at him, mouth ajar. Your eyes flickered to the bottles of paint that sat on the table in between you and he noticed, watching you as a light had clicked in your brain.

“No!” he warned.

But you were too quick. In a split second, you had managed to grab the bottle of black paint and began squirting it in his direction, splattering it on his torso and watching it drip down the front of him. And you laughed wildly as he grabbed the blue and white paint bottles, pointing and squeezing them in your direction as the two of you circled each other, using your easels as fruitless efforts in attempting to shield yourselves.

Paint was everywhere. Your bodies were the canvas now, dollops of blue and white running down the arch of your back and the curves of your breasts, down past your bellybutton, dripping onto your feet. When you attempted to swipe the hair our of your face, you inadvertently left a smear of black paint on your cheek and forehead, making Harry laugh.

Black paint had managed to drip in the creases of his newly defined abs that he had been working so hard on these past few months, his hands having smeared most of the paint on his chest which somehow made him look even more toned. You laughed, tossing your empty paint bottle to the side as harry stepped closer, grinning, and dumping the last of the white and blue paint on your chest, his pearl necklace now smeared in color and barely recognizable.

He booped you on the nose with his index finger, leaving a trace of blue on the tip of your nose as he pressed his body closer to yours, making the black paint on his torso mix with the blue and white on yours and whispering, “You look a little wet.”

“You have no idea,” you held your breath, tingling wildly throughout your body like you always did when the sexual tension began to build.

His lips twitched, his face was so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath starting to dry the paint that smeared on your face, legs starting to feel weak. His mouth hovered over yours, lips grazing, taunting, until finally he pressed his against yours, hungrily pulling you closer to him, both of your hands roaming each other’s bodies. No grip was tight enough to pull your bodies closer together.

The two of you slowly began to guide each other to the ground where you stood, on top of the fabric canvas that you had set aside to attempt to do some sort of line art of the two of you. That idea was ruined as it had now been splattered in paint and riddled with black, blue, and white footprints. He laid you down on your back, situating himself in between your legs that straddle his hips, pressing his hands on the canvas beside your head while your fingers ran through his hair, leaving streaks of paint in his browl, curly locks.

He pulled away to give you another look, smirking at the mess of color on your body and tracing a heart around your naval before he bent back down, crashing his lis on yours again. Normally, as a part of your foreplay routine, you’d share turns going down on each other, tasting each other’s juices and letting Harry play in your pussy for a bit, but with the paint, that wasn’t an option. Luckily, the need for foreplay wasn’t necessary. The past twenty minutes of teasing was enough to get you ready and his tip prodded at your cunt for a minute before slipping right in, warm and wet, just like he liked it.

You gasped at the abruptness, arching your back as he started to pump, clasping your legs tighter around his waist, “Fuck, Harry,” you managed.

Your little moans of delight always reassured him, gaining more confidence as he pumped harder into you, “Ya like that, do ya?” he ran his hand down your breast and to your hip, pulling himself back slightly and pulling you up higher so that your butt was off the ground and he could see your tits bouncing as he railed you, “Let me hear it, y/n. Let me hear how much ya like it.”

His thirst for you always got you heated for more and your voice got louder for him, screaming out his name, “God, your cock is so fucking big, Harry! Fuck! That feels so good!”

“You’re so wet,” he grunted, gritting his teeth and going faster now. His force began to lessen and you could tell he was starting to get tired, so you pushed him out of you and sat up, seeing the mess that was being made on the canvas below you.

“Lay down,” you demanded, moving aside.

He licked his lips, panting, and laying back down on the canvas like he was told before you straddled his hips once more, lowering yourself onto him. His hands naturally went to your heps, but you grabbed them, pinning them above his head which always drove him crazy. He let his head fall back, eyes fluttering shut and mouth agape as you bounced your ass onto him, his cock rock-hard inside of you.

“Oh my god,” you heard him whisper under his breath before he forced his head up to see your breasts bouncing in his face, desperate to take one into his mouth and flick his tongue over your paint-riddled nipples.

“You like that tight pussy?” you breathes into his mouth, biting his lip before pulling away and placing your palms on his chest, using him as leverage to ride his cock, bouncing on him faster.

With his hands now free from your grasp, he snaked them up your body, giving your tits a quick squeeze, before firmly wrapping around your neck. Your body tensed for a moment. He smirked, knowing what he was doing. Choking was your kink. Not too tight where you couldn’t breathe, but firm enough on the sides of your throat where you could feel your pulse more clearly underneath his grip. You let out a loud moan, attempting to ride him harder, but your pace slowed, hips barely able to move. You were close. Too close.

Your body shook, trying to force your thighs to do their job and move, but they wouldn’t budge. Harry sniggered, “Gonna cum, are ye? My cock too much for you to handle?”

His hands loosened their grip around your neck, and you cried out, “No, don’t!” Grabbing his hand and forcing it back to your neck. Out of breath and shaking from pure pleasure, you kept trying to go faster, but you only slowed down.

He raised an eyebrow, taunting you, “Need me to fuck you?” he snickered, earning a pleading nod from you. His hand lingered around your throat, running his thumb on your jaw and he smirked, “How bad do you want it?”

You glowered down at him, attempted to readjust, trying to see if there was another position that could get you the right amount of momentum, but your efforts were futile. With every movement you made, a small gasp escaped your lips. You were teetering on the edge of climax, unable to move, and it was agony.

“Harry, fuck me!” You begged, forcing your own hands around his throat, “Please, fuck me!”

His eyes grew more ravenous, jaw clenching and clutching the pearls that hung around your neck, tightening his grip on them so that they began to squeeze at your throat. Your begging was all it took. He forced his cock up into you so fast and so hard that you were practically being lifted up off the ground. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head in rapture, sounds you didn’t even know you could make being forced from your mouth.

His mouth puckered, eyes wandering from your head that flew back in pleasure, to your breasts, covered in paint and smeared to look more gray with specs of blue dotting down to your belly button. Your moans started to become shorter and more loud, body tensing and a chill running down your spine, “Just like that, babe! Keep going. Right there!” You panted until you let out one long, loud scream.

Your screams sent him over the edge, letting gown of the pearls around your neck and gripping on your hips harder, pulling you down onto him as he pushed up into you. His grunts getting faster and his lower jaw jutting out. “You’re so-fucking-sexy!” he grumbled in between thrusts before his final, deep, long thrust into you, pulling you tight onto his cock as he came inside of you, letting out a low, deep moan.

You collapsed onto him, the rising and falling of his chest matching your breathing, leaying their for a moment before you rolled off of him, both of you sprawled onto the tarp that covered the floor, naked and covered in paint. The two of you laid there for a moment until you started to feel the paint beginning to dry on your leg, and before you could say anything, he turned his head to face you.

Sweat beaded his forehead and he was finally beginning to catch his breath when he smiled at you, dimples evident in his cheeks, “You’re amazing.”

You grinned, forcing yourself up and attempting to hide the shakiness of your legs, “I know.”

The two of you helped shower each other off and clean up your mess as much as possible. Both canvases that were on the easels were trashed and you had to wipe the paint splatters off of the wooden chairs and tables, but for the most part, the tarp had done a good job at making sure paint hadn’t gotten on the floor. There was only one little spot of blue stain that gotten onto the molding of the wall from when Harry flicked paint at you, but it was barely noticable if you weren’t looking for it.

As for the fabric of canvas, at first they were going to get rid of it. But, the more they looked at it, the more they fell in love with it. It was very abstract, black, white, and blue smeared all over, parts of it mixing into grey. If you looked hard enough, you could see the streaks from their handprints and the blue and white circles where your knees and feet had been when you rode him. You decided to attach it to stretcher bars and have it framed, putting it above the sitting room fireplace.

Harry loved having this huge canvas of art on display; knowing how it was made and how prominently it was displayed for everyone who came over to see turned into a little kink of his. Whenever someone commented on how cool it looked, the two of you would always share a look and smirk, and when you had a split second of privacy, he’d kiss you with such intensity that reminded you of that night.

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Taglist:

@odetostep

#Harry styles #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #one direction #one direction smut

919 notes · View notes

blu-joons · 3 years

Text

DATING SEVENTEEN A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Lee Jihoon

A ⇴ AFFECTION

It took a while for Jihoon to get comfortable with affection with you, for a long time he was quite awkward around you, but once he found what you both liked, he would refuse to ever really let you out from his hold.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

When you first met Jihoon, you were convinced he hated you as he never spoke to you, however, as the two of you got to know each other better, you realised you’d misunderstood quite a bit about Jihoon after all, and as you learnt more about him, you realised what a nice and kind person he really was.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

Words were his instrument, and so was music, so he combined the two in order to be able to confess to you. Jihoon was far too shy to confess around you, so instead he sent you a demo of a small song that he’d been working on, letting you know that it was dedicated to you. The lyrics were sweet, but as you reached the end of the song and realised that it was a confession, you were straight on the phone to him to give him your reaction.

D ⇴ DATES

Every date with you had to be perfect in Jihoon’s eyes, no matter how big or small your date was, he meticulously planned every detail to ensure that you enjoyed every minute with him. Jihoon was open to trying anything if it was what you enjoyed, he was interested in the things that you were and willing to learn about something new. For him, he enjoyed taking you to concerts or shows, the musician in him never really was put to rest, so he would pay close attention to everything, which often left you in awe of his talents too.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

Jihoon had no experience of dating, the most he knew from it was about what he wrote in his songs, which he knew was often exaggerated. He turned to his members a lot for help when it came to dating to try and learn from what they knew. He especially wanted to try and learn from all of their individual charms so that he could put them into practice with you. He so often put himself down that he tried to pick up on so much about his other members, there were times you reminded him to just be himself a bit more.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

He has a very serious mindset, which can often lead to a few small disagreements between the two of you, especially if he’s trying to concentrate on something and you want his attention. Jihoon is always very careful with his words when he does get angry with you though, he knows what not to say to make sure that he doesn’t hurt you, but also say enough so that he can get his point across. Major arguments are terrifying for him, he worries a lot about losing you when things become too heated. He’s incredibly attached to you, and the last thing he wants to do is risk himself losing any of what you have together.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

To begin with, his family were a little apprehensive about Jihoon dating as they didn’t want you to get in the way of all his hard work. However, as they got to know you and witness the routine that the two of you had found yourselves in, they were relieved to see that the two of you had found the perfect balance between the two.

H ⇴ HOME

For a while, Jihoon had been considering his own studio anyway, but as your relationship progressed after a few months, his mind instantly began to think about perhaps a new apartment instead. He knew he saw you in his long-term future, and a forever home seemed like the perfect first home for you both too.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

Just like his confession, Jihoon never quite knew the way to say, ‘I love you,’ except for in the form of a song. When another demo was sent your way, you were very confused, however, like before, as you sat down and listened to the lyrics, you soon realised exactly what the song, and Jihoon, were trying to say to you.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

There were definitely a few times when Jihoon would get jealous, he knew that some of his other members were louder, funnier, and would definitely be able to capture your attention better than he could. He would try and not let jealousy get the better of him in front of both you and his members too, but you’d usually be able to tell. Jihoon wasn’t the loudest anyway, but when he was feeling jealous, he would almost be silent as he kept an eye on you and made sure that none of his members pushed things too far.

K ⇴ KIDS

The thought of having children excited Jihoon greatly, especially the chance to be able to pass on a few of his musical genes to his offspring. He often dreamt about how his future would be with his son sat by a drum kit and his daughter at a keyboard, teaching them all of the notes and melodies that he used to come up with as a part of the band and helping them to follow all of their dreams just like his parents did.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

Jihoon knew that he had quite a serious outlook on life, so he’d try hard at times to feel like he needed to justify that he could live carefree and find plenty funny in life. You knew how dedicated he was to his work, and never expected him to be anything that he wasn’t, but he wished sometimes that he could make you laugh as much as some of his other members did. Whilst you hated that he felt that way, you’d always make sure to laugh at his jokes and reassure him whenever he felt like he was being too serious about things and encourage him to relax sometimes and allow himself to smile and just breathe.

M ⇴ MISSING

When he was missing you, his emotions were poured into his music. He could often be found sat in his hotel room with a pad of paper and a pen in hand, scribbling down little things that maybe he could use in songs one day. He doesn’t like for the other members to see him missing you as a weakness, so he prefers to spend a bit of time by himself and cope in his own way. When he finally calls you, he’ll often share the lyrics with you so that you can see how he was feeling, but he’ll also be quick to reassure you that he’s not feeling as bad now as he was when he tried to write down all of the lyrics that came to mind earlier.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

You tended to just call him ‘woozi,’ as a nickname because you heard so many other people call him by it. It would often take him by surprise when he’d heard his stage name come from you, but he loved to hear it.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

He was obsessed with your words it was very much a love language for Jihoon and helped to him to learn so much about you and your feelings as well.

P ⇴ PDA

Being affectionate in public wasn’t something that Jihoon was greatly passionate about he would never leave you to walk alone, but he also wouldn’t create a huge drama in public about the fact that the two of you were together. As long as you were comfortable both outside, and with him, then that was enough for him.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

He loved to get your opinion on all of the things that he created. Knowing that someone else liked what he wrote or composed and not just him always gave him a great confidence and pride in what he had done.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

Jihoon’s room was a mess of lyrics sheets all composed because of you. It wasn’t just being away from home that gave him the enthusiasm to write, so much about you gave him triggers that inspired him. He loved to talk you through some of the situations that had inspired the lyrics, no matter how embarrassing they were. Jihoon could find inspiration at the most random times, but that was also something you greatly admired about him.

S ⇴ SEX

He was always very careful and understanding of your needs and the things that you liked, you would always be the priority and the focus of all of his attention, no matter how hard you tried to prioritise him instead. Jihoon would also be quite vocal during these moments, not loud, but he’d often whisper sweet words into your ears to remind you that he loved you and compliment how good of a job you were doing.

T ⇴ TEXTS

If he felt like he wasn’t spending enough time with you or wasn’t in contact with you enough then he would text you in an instant. He was terrified of leaving things too long and risking upsetting you by not saying hi sooner.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

Song writing had always come fairly naturally to Jihoon, but it was only now that he had you in his life, did he feel like he had a focal point for his inspiration. So much of his work revolved around you and your relationship too.

V ⇴ VACATION

Whenever the two of you went on holiday, it was a job in itself for you to try and convince Jihoon to switch off from work and allow himself to relax. He’d still be searching for inspiration and coming up with things, despite your work supposed to be set up so that he could give his brain a rest and focus on something else for a change.

W ⇴ WHINING

Whining really wasn’t Jihoon’s style at all, if he wanted something, he’d just stay, but he’d never kick up too much of a fuss about anything that wasn’t going right.

X ⇴ XXXXX

He loves to cuddle you, and with that, he’ll often trail kisses against any part of your skin that is exposed to him. He relies on kisses a lot to often send you small messages that he’s thinking of you or that he’s still right there with you. Equally, he loves to receive kisses from you too and bask in your embrace and the love that you give him. If you kiss his cheek, you’ll always hit the mark and turn him into a shy mess.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his muse, the perfect point that everything else focused around.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

He’d always fall asleep as close to you as possible, often humming random melodies behind you as you tried to sleep. His soft tunes were the perfect lullaby for you to fall asleep to and always allowed you to relax beside him.

---

Masterlist

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licuadora-nasir · 3 years

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Hello ! Do you write for queer reader ? If so, may you please write a Lance x Male reader, where they were long time best friends before (TO) Lance loves reader but as the last dragon he thinks it’s his duty to continue the legacy so never aknowledges his feelings wich leads him to be quite depressed, until Erika-I-stick-my-nose-everywhere find out somehow and build a plan with others to confront both about it ?

Thank you !

Hey there! Thank u for your ask, I loved the prompt! And I'm sorry for the delay, my relative is still hospitalized but he's better😊.

Also, of course I write queer, I'm part of the community and even though Eldarya doesn't have queer options regarding the MC I think it's interesting to treat other possibilities.

This one's structure was a bit different from the one I normally use. My amazing beta @rina-nanashiro and I have come to the conclusion that would be better to use the first person singular and the omniscient narrator to correctly portrait each character thoughts.

For this one, let's say that the plot is settled not long before Lance becomes the chief of the obsidian guard and Erika arrived 4 years earlier.

Also, whether the MC is human, faerie or faelian is up to you. I didn't dwell on any physical descriptions or mention his race.

To conclude, my ask box is closing soon. So if¡ anyone wants to request something, you have a couple of days to think about it.

Lance and a male MC have problems confessing their feelings and Erika meddles in under the cut

I carefully settled the dumbbells in the fresh grass, brushing away the light film of sweat, which covered my forehead, with the back of my hand.

Almost every day was a sunny one in the City of Eel. I have been told once that the shield surrounding the Head Quarters repelled rain and other natural phenomena, and I was delighted to enjoy the warm sunbeams, though as the day drew on, training in hot weather wasn't very pleasant.

A group of females crossed the gardens and threw a glance toward my bare, glimmering chest, sweat sliding down my pectorals and abs. One of them blushed while the other winked at me. The flustered one dragged her friend away while she couldn't help her giggling.

I was used to the attention. Such things would usually happen whether I was training shirtless and why not saying it, showing off a bit.

But those females’ attention... wasn't the one I was longing for.

As if my thinking was some kind of magnet, the object of my thoughts suddenly appeared in the Central Pavilion. I gulped and clumsily tried to fix my hair, using the fingers to comb the lost strands while Lance was engrossed in a conversation with Erika, laughing by his side.

"Hey, you" The girl gave me a sincere smile while Lance grabbed the nearest towel and threw it at my sweaty face not before smiling too. Jerk.

"Thank you, Lance.” I rolled my eyes seeking to restraint the smile of my own.

"Why are you training at this hour? It's too hot," asked Erika.

"The correct question would be why you are training and showing off at this hour." The dragon winked at me not before running his eyes over my bare chest.

I gulped for a second time and focused on the dumbbells on the ground, ignoring the warmth that settled in my chest and threatened to go down to my inner thigh. Yeah, it was indeed hot there.

"Well, it may be too hot for you both, but I enjoy the warmth." And while Erika simply didn't favour it, Lance was naturally more comfortable in cooler places. Disadvantages of being an ice dragon, I supposed. When the man opened up to the guardian and revealed his true nature, I was speechless.

It was a well-kept secret that not many knew and that such a closed-up person as Lance decided to give me that reliance meant the world for me. He didn't only trust me but wanted to show himself as he was. As the powerful and endangered being that he was. Keeping that secret all their lives made the twins wary of everyone, afraid of their reactions. But what I saw didn't frighten me. It made me want to know Lance more and unravel the person that hid behind that dense layer of steel and smugness.

"Oh come on, just admit it! You want to get tanned since summer is close!" Well, maybe that was another reason why I was training at this hour, but there was no way Erika was get away with it, so I hurled my towel, full of sweat, into my friend's face which made her grimace in disgust and Lance chortle.

"By the way, where's Valkyon? I need someone to back me up since apparently, you two have decided to bully me today." Valkyon had told Erika about his new nature as well. Before starting to hang out with the brothers, I didn't know much about the woman apart from her faelian condition, but we quickly befriended each other after spending time with the twins and meeting in several missions.

"He's been assigned to organize the armour's stock, so don't expect to hear from him in the next two hours," replied the brother.

Suddenly, a female elf popped next to us, most likely an acquaintance of the dragon. Her pink stare found Lance's, and she smiled sweetly at him as she spoke up

"The Obsidian Chief would like to meet with you. He's looking forward to discussing your promotion if you don't have any relevant matters at hand right now.”

"Yes, of course, just give me a moment." Lance turned to face me. "I came by to ask you if you're available after lunch. I've found some cool techniques in one of the books I'm reading and I thought you might be interested in learning them."

My chest tightened at the words, and after taking a deep breath I answered.

"Of course, I would love to." Lance parted from us undertaking to meet us at lunch with the rest. Normally, we would have lunch with Valkyon, Ezarel and Nevra, and sometimes Miiko, Yhkar and even Kero would join.

I sighed thinking about my last training with the Obsidian-Chief-to-be.

Lance was situated behind me, a firm hand holding my hip while the other grabbed my arm in a defensive position.

"You are doing it wrong. If anyone sees you with a posture like that one they'll mistake you for a novice lost on the battlefield. Let me teach you how to do it.”

I was painfully aware of my friend's figure pressed against my back. The warmth was sinking into my body, and I tried to think about pure things instead of embarrassing himself, but it was so difficult to focus on something else when his breath skimmed my ear and my butt was pressed against his-

"Hey."

"HEY."

"SNAP OUT OF IT, SCATTERBRAINED!" Erika brought me back from my memories with a hard slap to my head.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT, VIOLENT MAD WOMAN?!" Geez, Erika could be really aggressive at times.

"I want to know what's going on with you" The young woman was directly looking at me with a clear stare. The kind of stare that made her violet eyes shine brighter. "And before you answer 'I don't know what you're talking about Erika, I'm perfectly fine' please, don't take me for a fool."

"I don't think you're a fool."

"I know something is going on with Lance. Every time he turns his back, you stare at him with that painful-but-loving look on your face and you sigh like he has taken your breath with him."

"I think you're a busybody."

"Come on, talk to me." I attempted to go away, but she grabbed my wrist. "I'm your friend. You know you can trust me."

"There's nothing to talk about. And nothing is going on with Lance either."

"Is it because you're both males? You know no one would-"

"It's not that!" I broke free from her grasp and finally addressed her. "I don't give a fuck if someone came insulting me or spitting shit on me or whatever. It just... It's Lance, we aren't talking about anyone." The problem wasn’t just that we were both males. It was far more complicated than that.

"And that means...?"

"It means he's a dragon. It means that apart from Valkyon, his race is extinct. He's born in a different league, and he shouldn't be with a male. He shouldn't be with me." I lost count of the times I wished Lance had been born as a female, or me, for that matter.

"You don't even know what he wants."

"I know what he deserves."

(But Erika didn't agree with him. Lance deserved someone that cared about him and not some random female that could give him offspring. And the guardian loved him. Deeply. She knew the second he met him he had a crush on Lance, and she could bet the dragon noticed as well. Come on, even Valkyon was aware of the guardian's feelings for his brother.

The one who didn't seem to realize Lance attempts to hit on him was the guardian. He was so dyed-in-the-wool that he didn't even consider the possibility that Lance could be interested in him as well. But she couldn't blame him: Lance himself was a mess of feelings.

The guardian wasn't wrong: Lance truly thought it was his duty to continue the legacy of his race, but he was conflicted between what he thought he had to do and what he desired, what meant taking one step towards his friend just to take two back. They were more and more miserable as each day passed and Erika couldn't stand seeing her loved ones like that.

What if they couldn't have offspring? Should they sacrifice their happiness just because they couldn't have kids? They love each other. They cared about each other. That should be enough.

But there was no use trying to convince them otherwise, so she did what she knew best: stick her nose into someone else's problems.

She conceived a plan to confront them: In three days, she would go on a mission. But at the last minute, she would remember that she had to deliver an urgent letter to Lance that he had to read immediately and she could ask the guardian to deliver it.

That way, when Lance opened the letter in front of the guardian, instead of coming across with an important document, he would find a text that said something of the sort "Actually, this whole thing was an excuse. I wanted to confess my feelings for you even if I didn't know how."

Yes, he would definitely kill her, but she wasn't going to sit in silence and watch how his possibilities of going out with Lance were decreasing each day, right? There were a lot of girls going after the twins, therefore if the guardian didn't hurry... Another one would do it.)

One morning, after I had accompanied Erika to the boat to wish her good luck in her mission and say goodbye, she let out an astonished gasp. "Oh no! I can't believe I forgot! Please, can you take this to Lance? It's something urgent, so tell him to open it the moment you give it to him!"

"I... Yes of course, do you know where he might be?"

After being told that at this hour he would probably be on the edge of the forest, I wasted no time and hurried up. Erika was a competent girl, but it wasn't a surprise that she sometimes forgot things like that. She could be hardworking and a mess with legs, but that made her more adorable.

I spotted the two brothers taking a stroll and conversating about something probably irrelevant since Valkyon seemed to be mocking his big brother. They were inseparable. Wherever Lance or Valkyon went, the other would tag along. It was truly heartwarming seeing how much they cared for and loved each other.

"Lance! Erika forgot to give you this." Both dragons instantaneously turned their heads to look at me, eyes clear and ready to listen to whatever I had to say. It was kind of funny to watch how seriously they take their roles. "She said that it was important and you should open it immediately."

When Lance opened the envelope, Valkyon took a step closer to his brother but after reading the first words, he squeezed his twin's shoulder and departed not saying a word.

When we were finally alone, Lance looked up to face me and muttered. "You finally came to talk about your feelings for me?"

Those eyes were clear as ice, and even though there was no trace of mockery, a heavyweight settled in my stomach. My...feelings for him? What the hell he was talking about?

I didn’t even say anything. I just gave the envelope that I had been tasked with and that was been all. At the sight of my confused mien, the dragon tended me to the letter.

I slowly took it, not leaving his eyes for a moment, and when he read I... My hands ripped it apart and tossed it somewhere in the woods without caring where it landed and hissed. "This was that busybody's doing!”

‘I wanted to discuss my feelings with you,’ she wrote.

I couldn't believe Erika had done that. It wasn't her affair and she had no right to meddle in someone else's business. How would she feel if I did that to her?

“Just... Look I'm sorry I can no-" The blood under my face was boiling, my whole body was boiling in shame and panic. I couldn't face him right now, I had to get the hell out of there.

I didn’t make it far before Lance gave me a firm grip on my wrist and said "Please, let's talk. This was my fault. I should have talked to you earlier, explain myself to you before anyone stuck their nose into this."

"What are we going to talk about, Lance?" I confronted him praying this new growing determination would not abandon me. "Do you want to talk about how you can't be with a male? How we are not meant to each other?"

"You know that's not true."

"Isn’t it?" I frowned and let a sad chuckle slip my lips. What a bastard. "You can't be with me, Lance. You deserve and want someone who can give you a family, that will bring you children, and I can't do that."

The dragon didn't so much talk. He couldn't say the proper words because I wasn't mistaken.

"There you have it." My voice cracked at the first word and I could have sworn something broke inside him as well seeing the gaze he gave me. "You may want me, but I'm not enough for you." Tears ran freely down my face like raindrops of a cold, cloudy day in winter. "Find a good mate, Lance. You have many admirers, so I don't think you'll have much trouble."

Lance couldn't stand it. He had never been a coward and that wouldn't be the first day he would start being one. He gently brought his hands to each side of his friend's arms and held him there. Firm but gently, he gripped him making sure he wouldn't go anywhere until he finished what the guardian deserved to hear.

"Look at me, please." Those eyes that were always full of love were hurt and sorrowful. He took a deep breath and let out his thoughts.

"I do not want you, I love you. You can not imagine how much I care about you and what your presence in my life means to me." His hands were slightly shaking. "You are right. I think that as a dragon, I must continue our legacy, but I have been unfair to you. I couldn't make up my mind, and I have hurt you."

The guardian started sobbing and one of the dragon's hands met his face to wipe his tears.

"You know, I've talked about this with Valkyon several times and I've realised my brother is right. I dese- We deserve to be happy. Together. Whether I can or cannot have offspring doesn't matter, it shouldn't be a duty and I shouldn't force that on you."

The guardian sobbed harder and embraced his beloved, feeling his hand on the head, the other arm gently stroking his back. Lance couldn't restrain a few silent tears of his own at the sight of the male whom he loved him as much as was loved by.

They will make it work, Lance could assure.

Do you have any requests? Feel free to stop by my ask box! But first, please read this.

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

Text

🕯Anon said: just wanna say I adore your writing and how you write Reiner and the kids and the other warriors is my favourite thing ever !! I just wanna give them all hugs :) do u have any hcs for the types of jobs you see them all doing in modernverse ?🕯

The types of jobs they have in modern au

{Annie, Bertolt, Colt, Marcel, Pieck, Porco, Reiner, Zeke, }

{Implied Reiner x reader}

{ "Porto" 1935 by Renato Natali 1883-1979 }

Annie is an Animal rescue worker.

Having had experience as a dog trainer before, it wasn't hard to find a full time job at her local shelter after graduating high school, having volunteered there before.

With time, effort and a lot of energy she made her way into the position of "animal control officer" now she spends her days busting animal's abusers doors and rescuing injured or neglected pets.

With long shifts and a high maintenance job, her time was all poured into her work. Usually she'd be exhausted after a long day.

Despite that, she's fulfilled and satisfied with her job. Not having to deal with a lot of people is a plus too, it's a hard job yes but she prefers it this way.

Her friends are bumped about not being able to see her a lot but they understand, plus she keeps in touch with them by lurking in the group chat only to send a snarky remark to stir the pot every now and then.

Bertolt sees her everyday because they work at the same animal shelter, even if their jobs are different they still walk home together, she also met some different people like Hitch and Marco at her job.

The kids love her job, they think it's badass, especially Gabi and Udo. Gabi because Annie gets to kick people in the face and Udo because he genuinely cares about animals.

She'd never tell anyone this, but part of the reason she wanted the job was because she felt guilty for her past self and wanted to fight for those who couldn't fight for themselves.

Bertolt is a veterinarian.

Having changed his mind post graduation and going to college instead of with Reiner, he graduated after 4 years of studying and is currently working with Annie at the local shelter while also planning to open his own clinic one day.

He takes some animals under his personal care for weeks or months even till they get adopted, he fears something bad will happen to the weak or ill ones if left at the shelter overnight.

Just like Annie, the job takes a lot of his time, not to mention caring for animals off of work. So he's in the same situation as her, but for the sake of his best friend he still finds time to visit and hang out once a week.

Reiner and him still text daily, it's mostly pictures Bertolt took of the animals, Annie on her break, interesting plants he finds along the way. And Reiner replies with pictures of the kids.

They still find time to play basketball together, they try to keep it a secret from Annie because she will kick their ass in it.

Bertolt is comfortable with his job, he feels like he belongs and likes being needed. Yes the long hours are a con but seeing the fruits of his labour grow and get better day by day makes it all worth it.

The kids like visiting his house because there usually will be a new dog or some animal in there every month or so, Reiner makes sure they don't bother the animals.

Something he's never told anyone is a big part of the reason he changed his mind last minute was because Animals feel much safer and secure for him to work with than humans.

Colt is a college student working part time.

He's majoring in nursing, being a four years degree he's trying to balance his studies with work and taking care of Falco.

Zeke offered him to work full time after graduation at his clinic, since he's been working part time there for a while and the pay is good, plus it's really convenientnal.

He has worked different part time jobs in the past like a barista, flower shop assistant, tutor, kindergarten teacher, etc.

Between all his responsibilities he barely has time for himself, his courses end right before his work starts and the small bits in-between is spent on Falco and his friends. Zeke and Pieck try to take some of his responsibility but he refuses saying it's the least he could do to Falco.

He's really good at his job like multitasking, reading people, gaining their trust and having high stamina that he could stay for night shifts even.

He relies on coffee a lot.

Falco sees him as a real life superhero, they weren't that close before but after the incident he really started appreciating his big brother.

Something he keeps inside is that despite pursuing this job because he genuinely wanted to make a difference in people's lives and help the sick, he also felt a crushing guilt after his parents passed away, and so he's trying to save other people's lives now instead.

Marcel is a pilot.

It's a dream he always had since middle school, soon after graduation he joined the military to gain enough flying hours and experience to apply to a commercial airline after taking some mathematics, aviation and some general flying courses.

He was officially hired as a pilot after getting his first class medical certificate to check his health.

His work isn't measured by hours to him but by days, he needs to be available 24/7 in case of an emergency call. Now he's working overseas and far away from his friends.

You've actually never met Marcel, only seen pictures of him and received letters. The person he keeps in touch with the most is Porco.

He likes his work, it's his dream. He doesn't like the work hours and being so absent from his friends and brother, he misses them so much at times.

Pieck is a tattoo artist.

Her shop is actually her old flower shop after she decided to change her career. She's always been good with plants and taking care of them, at that time Colt worked as her assistant.

It wasn't till later after some years of practice and training under other artists that she was confident enough about her skills to start the project

Her art is full of life, mesmerising and beautiful. She puts her soul in every piece and has gained a good reputation because of it, plus having really high ratings and strict hygiene rules, no health inspector could ever challenge her.

Having her own independent work meant that she has a very flexible schedule, being mostly free ment she could pursue other hobbies like gardening.

A peaceful and simple life where she can indulge in her art and be happy is all she ever wanted

Porco is a frequent customer of hers that gets a family discount, Zeke came once before and later sent his friend, a really tall and blonde woman who became her most frequent customer.

Zofia thinks her work is really cool and wants to go and just watch her do her thing, but it's frowned upon to have a kid just sitting at a tattoo shop.

Despite changing into this career, the town people still think of her as the sweet flower shop lady.

Porco is a bartender.

That job came to him by accident more than anything, he was working part time as a bouncer in a local bar but a slot was open after the old bartender suddenly quit and he gave it a chance.

He didn't expect to love it so much, neither did he know about his hidden talent in mixing drinks. So he took it as full time and changed to better bars after gaining the experience he needed.

Being naturally charismatic and good at influencing people, while also multitasking in making drinks and keeping a conversation going, he was instantly a hit in whatever place he worked at.

Working the night shift ment he's mostly free in the morning, he tries to help Pieck with her gardening and is actually attempting to grow some plants at his house.

Naturally whenever there's a gathering, he's the one mixing drinks and being the self assigned bartender who openly judges his friends for their choice in drinks. The charismatic persona being thrown out the window and replaced by a no mouth filter.

He genuinely cares tho, he's the one taking care of someone when they drink more they can handle. It's mostly Colt who underestimates his drinks and is left clinging to Porco who drives him home.

Because of his line of work, tattoos and general brash personality, the kids' parents don't like him even one bit. They're suspicious of him no matter how many times Reiner assures them he's trustworthy.

It's actually only Colt who trusts Falco with him, and maybe Zofia's mom who is at the bar every weekend.

Reiner is a firefighter.

With his mother pushing him into this line of work, he applied for the physical and psychological exams after graduation before getting accepted. He wasn't unprepared per say but actually being in that line of work was more than he could ever prepare for.

It instantly took a great hit at his mental health, so much in fact that he was thankful Bertolt changed his mind last minute and didn't follow him in this job.

It was both everything he ever wanted, like saving people, helping children, animals and knowing it's him who saved them even if it means putting his own life at risk.

But also everything he hated, like the hunting faces and screams of the people who were far too gone for him to save, the recurring nightmares and constant guilt paired with imposter syndrome.

He works a 24/72 shift, meaning he works for a whole day before getting 3 days off. Approximately only working 7-8 days a month, not to mention unpaid leave, sick days and holidays.

So it both gave him a really tight schedule on some days and on others more free time than he knows what to do with, that's why he naturally took the main role of being the kid's caretaker. Looking after his little cousins genuinely helped him and he liked playing the big brother role.

Especially to Gabi, he was the only stable adult in her life. It's common knowledge that you call Reiner first for anything concerning her before her parents because he's more likely to answer and be available.

After meeting you, his life improved to the better as you moved in and became a trustworthy person in his life, someone he can depend on to take care of his little cousins on the days he works.

Not to mention that after you persuaded him to see a therapist, his mental health began improving too.

Gabi may or may have not committed arson at one point, she still wants to be a firefighter despite that and follow in Reiner's footsteps.

He hasn't told anyone beside you this, but he really fears for her, but doesn't have the heart to tell her no.

Zeke is a doctor.

Previously he worked in a hospital but was able to open his own clinic afterwards, Colt was a great help to him at that time when he was getting on his own feet and even worked a lot of unpaid hours.

After that he insisted Colt works an official part time job there with a much higher pay, till he graduates at least. Plus the experience will greatly improve his resume.

Zeke is brilliant at his job, he'd be a perfect doctor wasn't it for the fact he's a huge hypocrite who doesn't follow the advice he gives his patients.

He does a side job in his free time that honestly no one of his friends know what it is, but they know it gained him a lot of connections and made new friends.

Something he always keeps buried inside was that he really never expected himself to become a doctor especially after what his dad did to his mother, and yet here he is. In some way it's like his own personal stepping stone to prove he's a better man than his father ever was.

Bonus:

Falco: middle schooler

He does volunteer work on the weekends, sometimes Udo joins him.

Doesn't want Gabi becoming a firefighter.

Likes all videogames , just all types.

Likes watching cartoons and medical shows with Colt who covers Falco eyes whenever an adult scene is on

His favourite food is chicken nuggets

Wants to try coffee

Is good at PE

Reads comic books

Likes yellow and blue

Gabi: middle schooler

Takes self defence classes and really wants to go to summer camp

Wants to be like Reiner, aspires to be as strong too.

Likes shooter videogames or really hard ones.

Likes watching Anime and cartoons

Her favourite food is Pizza

Wants to try energy drinks

Is also really good at PE and surprisingly good at puzzles.

Likes red and pink

Udo: middle schooler

Takes music classes at the weekend, wants to go to science camp

Kinda wants to be like Reiner or an astronaut.

Likes calming videogames

Likes watching anime and Minecraft let's play

His favourite food is mac and cheese

His favourite drink is strawberry milk

Is good at language classes and creative writing, he also just likes animals a lot.

Likes green and black

Zofia: middle schooler (could've been in a special program)

Takes music classes with Udo

Wants to be a lawyer

Likes co-op Videogames

Likes watching true crime and youtubers drama

Her favourite food is Donuts

She likes strawberry milk and ice tea

Is good at all classes

Likes white and purple

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bevioletskies · 3 years

Text

dream a little dream of me

summary: Ryunosuke had never been one for gloomy, rainy weather, had always preferred the comforting warmth of a clear, sunny day. When a particularly heavy rainstorm keeps him and Kazuma in bed for hours on end, he finds himself slowly starting to think otherwise.

word count: 2.4k | read on ao3

a/n: For @asoryuu-week, day four of seven (prompt: "domestic"). This fic takes place post-Resolve; mild spoiler warning for Adventures and Resolve, where events may be alluded to but not described in detail. All names and honorifics are taken from the official localization, with the exception of Sherlock and Iris.

Fic title is from the song Dream A Little Dream Of Me by The Mamas & The Papas.

“Remind me, Ryunosuke, what is it they say about a heavy head? Because yours is certainly making it harder for me to breathe.”

Ryunosuke sighed, lifting his supposedly heavy head from his partner’s chest to level him with a sleepy glare. “Good morning to you, too. Must you demean me before we’ve even gotten out of bed?”

Kazuma’s warm, slightly raspy laughter soothed Ryunosuke somewhat, though he still couldn’t help but feel slightly irritated. “Well, it’s hardly my fault you’re so fun to tease. No one else reacts quite like you do.” Then, Kazuma cupped Ryunosuke’s jaw in one hand, running his thumb across Ryunosuke’s mouth. “And I mean that in all manner of things, if you get my meaning.”

“You’re terrible,” Ryunosuke informed him, though he allowed Kazuma to kiss him anyway, grunting slightly when Kazuma rolled over to straddle him, sinking his entire body into Ryunosuke’s, fingers digging into his sides. “Mm...Kazuma, th-they’re waiting for us downstairs - ”

“Let them wait,” Kazuma murmured, playfully nibbling Ryunosuke’s bottom lip. One of his hands had now moved to Ryunosuke’s thigh, caressing him teasingly. “It’s been too long since we’ve had some time to ourselves.”

“You were only here two nights ago,” Ryunosuke said breathlessly; Kazuma’s mouth had quickly made its way from his neck to his collarbone, leaving a heated trail of kisses down the length of his throat. “Remember? That’s when I finally agreed to - ”

“Ry-u! Kazz-y! Won’t you be joining us for breakfast?”

“Damn,” Kazuma muttered, reluctantly climbing off so he could smooth out the front of his jinbei. Despite Ryunosuke’s continued annoyance at Kazuma’s insatiable nature, if he wanted to put it kindly, he also couldn’t help but admire how flushed Kazuma’s ears, neck, and chest had become in the last few minutes alone. “We’ll be right there, Iris, sorry for keeping you!”

“That’s okay!” Iris called back, her footsteps already beginning to fade away. “Just as long as you’re both properly dressed, alright?”

Ryunosuke groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “This is all your fault, you know that?” Kazuma merely scoffed, rifling through his bag so he could find the fresh set of clothes he’d packed for his overnight stay. “Though I suppose nothing will ever be as bad as the time you pulled me aside in the middle of an investigation and - ”

“I thought we both found that to be a thrilling and memorable experience, but fine,” Kazuma said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll see to it that we won't try anything that adventurous ever again.”

“We almost got caught!” Ryunosuke exclaimed, agitatedly flapping his shirt in Kazuma’s face. “Don’t you realize how much trouble we would’ve been in?”

Kazuma stared at Ryunosuke in complete and utter disbelief. “...Ryunosuke, you’ve committed treason. You’ve implicated so many government officials, exposed so many government secrets - ”

“...all the more reason not to take a chance?” Ryunosuke offered sheepishly. “Anyway, let’s get dressed before they come looking for us again. I swear I can hear Susato-san’s footsteps coming up the stairs.”

A little over an hour later, Ryunosuke, Kazuma, and Susato returned to the attic, pleasantly sleepy from the generous meal that Iris had prepared for everyone. The rain was still thumping against the windowpane, an erratic tap-tap-tap that filled the entire room, rendering the three of them barely able to hear themselves or each other.

“I know you were planning on returning to your own flat, Kazuma-sama, but I would advise against it in a storm like this,” Susato mused, momentarily brushing the curtains aside so she could look out over the soggy, sorry state of London’s streets. “And I’m sure Naruhodo-san wouldn’t complain if you stayed.”

“I’m sure as well, though Ryunosuke is clearly in no position to answer either way,” Kazuma said dryly, gesturing in Ryunosuke’s direction, where he was currently curled up on the floor by Susato’s tea set, half-asleep and hugging his daruma to his chest. Susato watched, giggling, as Kazuma walked over to gently prod Ryunosuke in the shoulder with his foot. “Come now, Ryu, don’t make me carry you back to bed.”

“We both know you’d like that,” Ryunosuke mumbled. Susato only just managed to refrain from rolling her eyes at them - she’d been privy to far too many of their supposedly private conversations for her liking - instead electing to pat Kazuma on the arm.

“I think this is the perfect weather for a nap, personally,” she said, looking at him meaningfully. “If you plan on returning to bed as well, I can let Iris and Mr Holmes know not to disturb any of us until dinner.”

“That would be great, Susato-san, thank you,” Kazuma said sincerely, though he secretly suspected she just wanted to leave them be. Once she disappeared back down the stairs, he looked down at Ryunosuke with an irrevocably fond sigh. “Ryunosuke…”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m getting up,” Ryunosuke yawned, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet. “Bed?” Grinning, Kazuma wordlessly took Ryunosuke by the hand and led him towards his bedroom - their bedroom, really, given how often he stayed over these days. Moments later, they clumsily tumbled back into bed, having changed into their sleepclothes once more.

“You’ve still got a bit of egg on your face,” Kazuma observed, wiping Ryunosuke’s cheek. “How does this keep happening to you?”

“Eat too fast,” Ryunosuke murmured, turning to kiss the palm of Kazuma’s hand. “Food...good.”

“Your grasp of both the Japanese and the English language is incredible,” Kazuma drawled, carding his fingers through Ryunosuke’s hair. He then pulled him closer, burying his face into Ryunosuke’s neck. “I thought you went back home to finish school, did you not? Surely you can do better than ‘food good’.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Ryunosuke said, sighing, letting out an exaggerated exhale directly in Kazuma’s face. Still, he turned over so he could wrap his arms around Kazuma’s waist, snuggling contentedly into his chest. “I really should just kick you out and make you go home.” Laughing, Kazuma kissed the top of his head.

“Not in this weather, you wouldn’t,” Kazuma replied. As if to illustrate his point, there was a loud, thunderous crack that practically shook the entire room. “If this storm keeps up, I might have to live here indefinitely.” Ryunosuke merely grunted in response. “Well, you don’t have to sound so pleased about it.”

“Oh - no, it’s not that,” Ryunosuke reassured him, sitting up somewhat so he could look Kazuma in the eye. Despite Kazuma’s typical brusque, yet affectionate nature, he could tell that Kazuma was slightly hurt. “I was just thinking about how much I dislike storms. Rain is fine on occasion, but...it seems as if London is in a permanent state of misery sometimes, you know? And it makes us miserable all the while.”

Kazuma’s clouded expression cleared up instantly. “It’s been ages since we’ve had sunshine,” he agreed, now dropping his head to rest on Ryunosuke’s shoulder. “It would’ve been nice to go for a walk together before I leave...whenever that is.”

“Like we used to do before class,” Ryunosuke said quietly, nodding. “You could never convince me to join you during your morning exercises, though.”

“Forget morning exercise, I had to literally drag you out of bed sometimes,” Kazuma snorted, tangling their fingers together. “I hear Susato-san hasn’t had any luck with getting you to exercise more, either.”

“I exercise enough,” Ryunosuke huffed, pinching Kazuma’s side; much to his dismay, Kazuma merely laughed in response. “I do plenty of pacing up and down during trials, you see.”

“I do see,” Kazuma teased. “I should look for permanent scuff marks behind the defense bench and the witness stand the next time we’re in court. You have a tendency to drag your feet, after all.”

Rolling his eyes, Ryunosuke made a show of yanking his hand out of Kazuma’s grasp and turning over with his back to him, pulling his side of the blankets over his head. “...I’m really starting to think you have nothing nice to say about me at all.”

Even when he wasn’t looking at him, he could tell Kazuma was smirking. “Oh, I think I praise you plenty. But in case you were wanting to hear it…” In one quick motion, Kazuma swept the bundled-up Ryunosuke into his arms, Ryunosuke’s back pressed against his chest, his breath ghosting the shell of Ryunosuke’s ear. “...I love you, Ryunosuke. And I’ll say it as many times as you’d like; all you need to do is ask.”

“Wonderful, now I just sound needy,” Ryunosuke said, sighing yet again, though he craned his neck to kiss Kazuma anyway, tossing the blanket around his shoulders so they were both enveloped in its warmth. Kazuma slowly lowered him onto his back, onto the mattress, knees braced on either side of Ryunosuke’s hips, fingers digging into Ryunosuke’s waist.

“You can insult me back, I don’t mind,” Kazuma murmured, sucking a bruising kiss along the crook of Ryunosuke’s jaw. Though they’d crawled back into bed for a nap, Ryunosuke was starting to feel more and more alert by the second. “Do your worst.”

Ryunosuke hummed, thinking. “...sometimes, you try too hard. You need to relax more, Kazuma. There have been some jurors and witnesses who’ve been intimidated by you, even though you aren’t trying to be malicious.”

“Fair enough.” Kazuma’s voice was low, raspy, sending shivers up Ryunosuke’s spine. “Anything else?”

“You have a bad habit of interrupting people,” Ryunosuke continued, prodding Kazuma in the chest with an accusatory finger. “Even Iris seemed annoyed with you last night, when she was asking us about our latest trial. I know you think you were helping, but I can speak for myself just fine. We’re not in school anymore.”

“...ah.” Kazuma looked humbled, almost remorseful. “I...I’m sorry, Ryu, I didn’t realize. I honestly thought we were just telling them about what happened together.”

“And you need to stop biting me like I’m a piece of meat - ”

“No one can see them!”

“Kazuma, you're doing it again - ”

“Doing wh - oh.” Kazuma burrowed his face into Ryunosuke’s chest, cheeks burning hot with shame. Ryunosuke couldn’t help but laugh; it wasn’t often that he got to embarrass Kazuma and render him speechless. “I...see that I’m not quite the partner I’d thought or, or hoped I was.”

“Last, but definitely not least - ” Ryunosuke abruptly took Kazuma’s face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips puckered “ - you don’t need to be quite so dramatic, either. I still love you all the same, Kazuma.” He smirked. “And I’ll say it as many times as you’d like; all you need to do is ask.”

Kazuma stared down at him with wide, imploring eyes. Then, he cocked his head to one side, his frown melting into a warm, radiant smile. “...again.”

“I love you.” Ryunosuke kissed Kazuma’s cheek, then the tip of his nose, then finally, his lips. Beaming, Kazuma kissed him back, a little sweeter this time, a little less sensual. “Especially because you’re a little needy, too.”

They fell silent for a few minutes, save for the steady sounds of the rain and thunder and wind whistling past their window, exchanging slow, languorous kisses and simply enjoying one other’s company. Though Kazuma spent more nights at Baker Street than not, in a way, it still felt as if they had months, even years, of lost time to make up for, even though they hadn’t been apart - or a part of each other’s lives, for that matter - for that long. It was times like these that Ryunosuke found himself reminiscing about their university days, the early days of their companionship, when they’d have spirited debates that ended in spirited laughter and meandering conversations about nothing in particular.

“I can hear you thinking, partner,” Kazuma murmured, brushing Ryunosuke’s hair out of his eyes. “Something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Ryunosuke said, pulling away momentarily to yawn. “Only that we were supposed to be taking a nap, and instead, we spent the last ten minutes poking fun at each other. Though I suppose that’s just an extension of the way we speak to each other in court at times.”

“Susato-san has been scolding you about that as well, has she? Perhaps we do need to - I need to be more careful,” Kazuma corrected hastily when Ryunosuke leveled him with an impressively Kazuma-like glare. “Though we’d be in even more trouble if I were to, say, openly comment on how handsome you looked in court just last week, when your hair was a little bit longer in the back. I thought it suited you.”

“Why do we need to be in trouble at all?” Ryunosuke retorted, elbowing him a little harder than necessary. “I’d rather we do our jobs like the proper lawyers that we are - ”

“Well-behaved schoolboys, you mean,” Kazuma teased.

“ - and come home at the end of the day, where we can do as we please,” Ryunosuke finished.

Kazuma looked at him consideringly, his gaze impossibly soft. “Ryunosuke Naruhodo, are you implying you’d like me to move in someday?”

“What? I - ” Ryunosuke stared at him, momentarily stunned. Then, he relaxed, his head dropping back to his pillow, where Kazuma followed him down, their eyes still locked. “I, er...I thought that was a given. Though I worry that...that people might talk, as they’re wont to do.”

“Professor Mikotoba lived here with Mr Holmes for some time, did he not?” Kazuma pointed out. “Besides, even if people talk, why listen? All that matters is what we think of ourselves, as trite as that might sound.” He leaned in close, pressing a lingering kiss to Ryunosuke’s forehead. “So, just know that whenever you decide to ask, you already have my answer.”

“Then I think I’ll make you wait for just a little bit longer before I do...if only to get back at you for two nights ago,” Ryunosuke added with a smug smile, laughing when Kazuma glared daggers at him in response.

“And you think I’m the cruel one,” Kazuma muttered, pulling Ryunosuke into his arms once more so he could hold him rather possessively, their legs loosely intertwined beneath their mess of blankets. “You told me you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, believe me,” Ryunosuke grinned, blushing faintly at the sudden vivid memory that had come to mind. “But just this once, I’d like to have the upper hand.” He then leaned in to kiss Kazuma’s exaggerated pout. “Anyway, we really should be getting to sleep now, or it’ll be time for dinner before we know it. I can barely keep my eyes open at this rate.”

“Agreed,” Kazuma said, yawning. He shuffled closer, dropping his forehead down to rest against Ruynosuke’s. “Good...morning, Ryunosuke.”

Ryunosuke shot him one last sleepy, fond smile before letting his eyes drift shut. “Good morning to you, too, Kazuma.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fourth entry for Asoryuu Week 2021! We've moved on from sad Kazuma hours to semi-horny Kazuma hours, I guess? Blame it on Kazuma talking about getting Ryunosuke off and holding his hand over a hot plate and finding ways to shut him up; you can't tell me he's not doing this at least a little bit on purpose. Anyway, I always love writing plotless cuddling fics where they basically talk about nothing. I could've made this way, way longer, easy, but we've still got three more days to go!

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#asoryuu #asoryuu week 2021 #ace attorney #asoryuu fic #dai gyakuten saiban #the great ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers #dgs spoilers #tgaa spoilers #tgaac spoilers #myfic #long post #this is just cuddling i promise!! kazuma's just being...kazuma

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infinites-chaser · 3 years

Note

Librarian! PH. 52 MLQC MC / Victor :)

HELLO ANON U WERE ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE TO RESPOND TO MY LIBRARIAN ASK GAME I’M SO SORRY IT’S TAKEN SO LONG,,, victor is just. hard to write. aLSO I'm doubly sorry since i’ll be combining this with the Victor ask from @truth-be-told-im-lying hope neither of you mind T-T i don’t think my mind could do two victor ficlets akwlfjsdkls

ANyway I love you both LOTS AND LOTS hopefully this attempt at Victor isn’t extremely out of character;;; it’s a lowkey soulmates AU if that counts for anything :> aND this fic gets the special treatment of an actual Title bc True was wonderful enough to help me by typing Victor as an Enneagram Type One

okaaay and without further ado,

49, 52 + Victor/MC

‘[He] wakes up in [his] bed, determined to begin again.’- These Ghosts Are Family, Maisy Card. (pg. 49)

‘As [he] pushes through the onlookers to meet [her], he is certain he is the only person moving.’- These Ghosts Are Family, Maisy Card. (pg. 52)

((pronoun changes in both quotes to better fit the ficlet))

spoilers for Victor/MC’s childhood!

spend my whole life searching

Victor doesn’t believe in soulmates. (After half a lifetime of searching turning up nothing, he doesn’t believe in much.)

Once upon a time, he might’ve. (He wanted to). His heart rate doubled and sped up to match hers— a carefree little girl skipping across the road, too far away to hear his nerves cry danger, too caught up in dreams and fantasies to hear his warning shout. Time slowed down so he could save her, and on that afternoon on the crosswalk, drops of rain suspended in the air, he did.

At that age, he hadn’t had the sense to wonder why a young girl like her had been crossing the street without supervision. Why her smiles had come freely, but had always looked a little sad, a little wistful. Why she’d been so eager to accept his baked treats. Why she’d been at the playground without a parent. Why she’d always been alone.

Now, seventeen years later, he wishes he did. Wishes he’d known something as simple as her last name.

He dreams of her. Of finding her again: the girl whose heartbeat matched his. The girl whose smile had slowed down time itself for him, as if short moments with her could’ve each stretched into a gentle eternity. He’d wanted them to. He’d wanted to capture every moment spent with her, to make them last, to savor them, so they’d pass slow and sweet like honey on the tongue.

Time had passed slow when he’d wanted it to. Those sunlit afternoons had been sweet, they’d been happy.

Only, time is a fickle thing. When he takes his eye off it, it races away, too fast for him to keep up.

The kidnapping. The experiments. The torture.

The escape.

She saves him. He’s too slow to save her.

And even if he can stop time, here’s the thing: he can never turn the clock back.

Still, he wakes up. Every morning, he gets out of bed. Gets dressed and goes to work. The world around him moves on, and demands he does, too, even if his heart’s still eleven years old and clutching her motionless body, eleven years old, the only sound in his ears his pounding pulse, the absence of the accompaniment of hers an accusation more painful than any hateful words.

It’s a recurring theme in his life, time. It’s ironic, really, when he thinks about it. That he can stop time without lifting a finger, and yet, when it comes to things he cares about, people he loves most, he’s always eleven years old again, always too late.

(His Evol’s time control, but perhaps, all this time, he hasn’t been controlling time, it’s been controlling him. He’s imprisoned by a single moment, a memory, a regret. A past that can never be undone.)

Whenever he has spare time, he devotes himself to searching. Resigns himself to the fact he’ll probably never find her, if all he has to go off of is a child’s face, once preserved in his memory, now fading. Hair color. Eye color. Age. A name. Nothing more.

The searches turn up nothing.

He spends late nights in the office to distract himself, builds up a capitalist kingdom of a company, if only to put off for a few hours more the prospect of returning home to face his nightmares alone.

His father praises him for LFG’s growth over dinners filled with awkward silences. The name Victor Li appears more and more often in business newspapers. Investors approach him. He gets interviews. Gets offers for TV appearances, for sponsorships.

He takes them, these material successes. Wonders if any amount of them could ever make up for the failure from his childhood. If they could bring her back. He tells himself if he finds her, when he finds her, when he brings her back, it’ll be to a more perfect world. One in which he’ll never fail her again. It’s a foolish thought, but it keeps him going. With it in mind, he proceeds to work twice as hard.

Souvenir is what saves him. A small allowance, a self-indulgence, a seed of hope planted in what he thinks is his darkest time.

It’s for her, more than any of his frantic searching ever was. A dream, a foolish one, that one day she’ll step through his memories and through the restaurant’s door, that one day they’ll share a pudding together again, their hearts beating as one.

He doesn’t get to open Souvenir often; his job doesn't let him. He made sure of that, long ago. But when he does, after the last customer’s left, and he’s put up the closed sign, he cooks for two.

(The first time, Mr. Mills had taken a single look at his silent, still face, and his expression must've spoken volumes. The older man hadn't said a word, only helped clean the kitchen after, the normally gentle lines around his mouth pulled taut in a worried frown.)

He sets the second place at the table himself: carefully places fork, knife and spoon beside lukewarm appetizers, tucks a napkin under soup bowls going cold. Watches the empty seat and the untouched meal for an eternity before finally eating his own. His technique's impeccable. It has been ever since he'd aced his culinary lessons, since he'd bought out the school. He'd used the finest ingredients. He always does.

The food still crumbles like ash in his mouth. (It always does.)

Mr. Mills will find him there, nursing a glass of wine long into the night. He knows better not to question it, but sometimes he'll pull up a chair, drink a glass, too. talk of everything and nothing, talk of his parents, his sister's family, of times gone by.

Victor will never admit it, but the older man's presence makes those nights less hard. his stories, his memories — they keep the ice in his heart from spreading any further when it feels like nothing else will.

Ten years stretch into thirteen, into fourteen, into fifteen, into a broken clock, time stopped because does the passage of time mean anything if he measures it, measured it in time with her? If she's gone?

The meals shrink. First appetizers vanish, then entrees too, until all that's left are desserts, puddings that he stares at all evening, puddings a girl had loved once, that he can almost imagine her sitting there eating, her noticing him watching her and her answering blush and smile. His smile back.

Almost, because after all these years without her, he can’t quite imagine her face. Not as she would look now. Not even as she was, seventeen years back.

(He dreams and finds he doesn’t remember what her smile looked like, exactly. Doesn’t remember the sound of her heartbeat mingling with the sound of his.

Memory is cruel. Memory is imperfect. No matter if you can stop time, no matter how hard you try to memorize a moment, when you revisit it, it’ll never be the same as when you lived it the first time.)

Then:

The day starts like any other. He wakes up, gets out of bed, gets ready for another day of work, another night of searching. He scrolls emails while waiting for his espresso machine to heat, then puts his tablet aside when the coffee's done. He eats in silence. As always, he's done five minutes before he needs to leave for the company, the perfect amount of time for him to do a last-minute check in the mirror— his tie's straight, his shirt unwrinkled, not a hair on his head out of place. The reflection that stares back at him is unchanging; these days it barely shows even the passage of time.

He sighs. Shakes the thought off like the piece of lint it is on his otherwise immaculate state of being, and heads for the door, the lock automatically clicking behind him at eight o'clock am, exactly on schedule, exactly as planned.

He's about to take a seat in his car when an inexplicable urge to walk to work takes hold of him. He pauses. Calculates and re-calculates the time it would take (fifteen minutes, not accounting for rush hour traffic making crosswalks slow), and he's about to decide it's not worth it, it's a silly thought, but the urge intensifies.

Do it, the eleven-year-old in his heart seems to be telling him. You won't regret it.

He frowns and rubs his forehead— for a moment, he wonders if all his searching, all his foolish hopes are finally getting to his brain.

He decides to take the walk, anyway.

He regrets it, not nine minutes later, when despite the sun's light shining strong through the clouds, a light rain begins to fall.

Worse still, the traffic lights haven't changed once in the past ninety seconds. He won't be late, he'd accounted for this, but he's stuck in a crowd of pedestrians, and their chatter's beginning to grate on his nerves. He's considering calling the mayor about it after exactly one hundred seconds have passed— clearly, the light's broken, this is far too long for commuters to wait— but then, finally the walk sign flicks on.

He's already across the street when it happens:

First, a phone rings.

Then, the loud honking of a car.

Tires screech.

Time slows. Time stops.

He's back on the crosswalk in a matter of heartbeats, the inattentive idiot in his arms (it's a girl, it's always a girl, hair dark, eyes wide, expression shocked).

"You..." She says, blinking up at him with those wide, almost-familiar eyes. Distantly, he registers the echo of a heartbeat overlapping with his.

"Who are you?"

Who are you? His mind asks, but deep in his heart, he already knows the answer. It can't be.

"Evolver?" He says instead, shoving down memories that threaten to surface: another rainy day, another crosswalk, another heart that had seemed matched to his. He tells himself he's being delusional, that he thinks he can hear her heartbeat because she's in his arms, wide-eyed and fragile, her heartrate skittering back and forth like a fool— this isn't like his careful, methodical searching, this is a fluke beyond flukes, it means nothing, it'll lead to nothing in the end.

But she's in his arms, warm and soft against his protective embrace, she's in his arms and it feels so right it's almost painful, his pulse pulled into a panicked pace to match hers.

He sets her down abruptly, as if burned, and turns to go.

"Someone can't come to your rescue every time."

Around them, suspended raindrops begin to fall. The world, resumed. The world, once again predictable and mundane. Except for her.

He knows, without looking back, she's staring after him, her heart, his heart, still racing.

He allows himself a smile.

He allows himself some small sliver of hope.

(His frozen time starts moving again.)

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #val writes #hNnghghg this took so Long and writing vic gives me so much stress BUT HOPE Y'ALL ENJOY #u didnt hear it from me but it was actually really interesting to explore his character like this and. i've definitely developed more of an #appreciation :> of sorts #victor is an enneagram one and rly that's all that matters thats all u need to learn from this fic #also sOULmate AUs i love them that's it does this mean i think vic is MC's soulmate;;; maybe in this universe but not generally ailsjkfd #JUST FOR THE RECORD. i am not a vic stan so it must be said #TIL that mr mills does not have a wife/family and that makes me rly sad

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impaladolan · 3 years

Text

Capture - Grayson Dolan [8/-]

summary: y/n is quick to plot revenge.. but does she get away with it..?

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, and smut :)

a/n: i seriously love you

Anonymous said:

Ooohoohohoh I’m excited for her to steal his Rolex haha omg maybe she wears it and doesn’t give him it back when he asks for it OMG u know what would be cute!! if one day she goes snooping in his bedroom and tries on his chain necklace n rings and he walks out the shower n he’s like ummmm ok ily

Anonymous said:

i want y/n to ride gray’s thigh in his office, like he’s just got in still fully in his suite w his gun on his belt and she just walks in and strips 👀👀

Anonymous said:

I have an idea hehe!! WhYi f y/n gets drunk like she f inds alcohol in graysons office or kitchen or something and shes being really bratty but it’s so cute and she’s giving him nose kissies and hugging up and telling him stuff and he’s just listening and loving her

Relaxation.

That's how you'd explain the certain state of euphoria I'm embezzled within. Young love is a treacherous trap that can either end in favor, or be torn to shreds in only mere moments. To feel so passionate and fervently invested in someone you've only ever known and loved is such a thrill, and you could never forget those memories embedded in your mind.

Like right now, laying in bed while the sun's first shine leaks through the window and gleams down upon the two of us, nuzzled under the covers. His leg was wrapped over mine and his arms hung loosely around my hips, sheltering me from ever possibly leaving his grasp. I was the first to wake, but I dared not to move an inch.

The world around me was motionless, so peaceful and calm. Nothing could bother or disrupt the atmosphere around me. Everything felt so perfect, embraced by the one I love and the man I admire. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could ever unsettle me in this moment.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself...

A darkness warped over my newly sunken eyes, shielding the world around me. I called out his name, but nothing came out. The warmth I once felt upon my body, vanished into the air and seemed like it'd never return. The world became cold and useless, all the positivity and tranquility that once surrounded me was blown away and now, I sit in darkness;

All by myself.

Him.

It seemed too early in the morning to be awake at such an hour, but you had crashed shortly after making it back to your room last night. You were so mortified and embarrassed, for all those men to see you so vulnerable and being punished. Though, the crazy inside you kind of liked it, but still, it pushed boundaries.

Initially, you had wanted to sleep in all day, and hopefully never leave your room ever again. Although, today's forecast decided otherwise. A ground shaking rumble of thunder made you awaken and the shoestring lighting bolts strung across the darkened sky had drawn you in. Since you essentially have no concept of time, whatsoever, you had to believe it was early in the morning, unless you really had slept in all day...

It's been presumably an hour or so since you first fluttered your eyes open. By now, you had plotted a sickening revenge to his outrageous acts he had committed only a day ago. Of course, you had created horribly ill plans that even you could never pull off. Such as vandalizing his expensive vehicles or even trashing the entire house. You had even gone as far as to planning an "accidental" fire in the kitchen.

But something inside you had put a halt to those thoughts.

Other than not wanting to be known as a malicious arsonist, you had some sort of pull towards him— but what that pull was, you couldn't figure out. The phrase; " Darling, I may be a stranger to you, but you're no stranger to me," has been left in your mind ever since the words first left his mouth. You couldn't possibly help but wonder what that even meant. You felt like you've known him from a past life somehow, and that could potentially explain the affection you have towards him. All of that aside, you have to remember that he isn't who your brain morphs him in to be. He's a felon who's abducted you and has pulled you away from society and everything you've ever been a part of.

For some reason, that's hard for you to mentally consider.

Aside from criminalizing yourself too by creating a fire or becoming a vandalizer, the best option is to state your assertiveness and trespass the "laws" that he has forbidden you ro break. Unlike yesterday's escapades of you ruining the dining room table, today you were up for higher anticipated endeavours. You had it all planned out and you knew what you'd do in order to complete your vengeances.

And he's not going to be very happy...

The atmosphere above and around you still rumbles with the loud, crackling thunder and the strikes of lightning flooding certain increments of light through the surrounding windows pave your path to the daunting door. You were still dressed in the white shirt that could barely pass as acceptable in the public eye, and your feet were frozen at the first touch of the wooden floor. You kept on like you have done in the previous times you have left your room for mischievous reasons. You silently open the door, leaving it wide open as you crept out of your assigned room and into the hallway. You knew that the very first place you would go would be the kitchen. No, you aren't creating a fire or any of the sort, but you were going to raid the fridge and have your fill with what it has to offer.

You walk straight past the opening and right into the glorious establishment of cookware, like it was your very own home and you were just up for a midnight snack. In all honesty, you could get used to living here.

If only it weren't forced onto you, that is.

Your fingertips soon collide with the long, frigid handle of the refrigerator door and pull it wide open, marveling at the large display of different beverages and foods strategically set up. Of course, it was mainly veggies and several healthy-looking meal options. Which didn't surprise you whatsoever.

He has a nice physique for a reason...

You couldn't find anything that made your stomach growl with hunger, until you opened up the freezer drawer and spotted a nice looking ice cream container. Still, it looked healthy and it'd make you all the more frozen, but it would manage to subside your aching sweet tooth for now. You pop open the lid and fish around the drawers for a utensil. With a content sigh, you plunge a huge spoonful of the solid liquid and empty it into your mouth, savoring every last flavor like it would be the last time you'd ever eat the sugary treat again. It was delicious, the absolute best ice cream you've ever devoured in the entirety of your life.

You almost ate half the jar until you decided you were parched and needed a nice drink to soothe your throat. Luckily this time you were familiar with where the glasses were kept and already had your hand wrapped around a large wine glass that was a little bit higher up than the rest of the glassware. You set it down quietly, trailing your eyes upon the clean and prim counter.

A tall, fancy upscale bottle of what looked to be whiskey was settled in the corner, nicely organized with the other alcoholic beverages that were of the same importance.

Now, you weren't exactly a "drink-whiskey-out-of-a-wine-glass" type of gal, but as they say; desperate times call for desperate measures— and you were on the search of something to loosen you up a bit, and that was that.

You brought the glass over to where you had stationed your cup, not even flinching when you uncork the liquor and pour its contents out. With improper proportioning of the said liquid, you put the whiskey back how it was.

"Fuck, here we go." You inaudibly groan to yourself, just knowing that you'll regret every decision you've made in the near future. Raising up the plum-full glass, you tip it back into your mouth and down a whole gulp.

Nasty.

It's definitely an acquired taste, but the barely detectable taste of vanilla made it hardly feasible. You dared to not put the glass down until you were finished with it and had that sour taste submitted through your fiery throat.

The least you could say was that it's pretty smooth, but not something you'd drink in your free time.

In your head, you knew you'd feel a bit wonky, considering your nearly empty stomach and your abstinence from alcohol for the last month or so. It'd be easy to feel the side effects and overall feel much better, like you were aiming for.

Once you drained the glass of every last drop, you held your breath and rushed to the sink. The overwhelming want to just regurgitate what you ingested had drawn upon you, but you refrained from doing so. Waiting out the sickly feeling, you run a bit of cold water over your hand and press it against your forehead for a moment. Everything became hot, even with the freezing temperatures, you felt like breaking a sweat.

All just the side effects of alcohol, I'm sure.

Within the passing minutes, the faintness flew away and the sounds of the thunderstorm filled your ears. A large banging of the clouds above frightened you and you knocked over the glass you had just rested your lips on.

You didn't even feel bad about all the shattered pieces on the floor, it actually brought a smile to your face and you were ready to begin the fully planned extravaganza.

First stop; his room.

You skipped back the hallway, still quiet but not as careful as before. You weren't afraid of any consequences and whatever he was going to do to you wouldn't be too harsh. It's not like he's embarrassed you enough already anyway.

You easily find his door, pushing the handle down as slow as possible, just in case he was asleep in his room. His door didn't creak as you opened it, and nor did his floorboards as you walked straight into his marvelous bedroom. It was extravagant, but yet it still felt homely. You check the bed, no sign of him or anyone for the matter. He probably at a meeting, or something.

Not that you care..

You continue your stroll, glancing around his room for anything that could spark your immediate attention, considerably his desk. It held a lot of his more—fashionably inclined belongings. Such as his masculine jewelry and expensive watches. There was even a small, purple ring that reminded you of something you had worn a long time ago. You brush that off, it brings up sore wounds from a time where you were a lot happier and everything was simpler.

I wish I could say that now..

You began to pick up the neatly placed objects, slipping a couple of heavy necklaces around your neck and the large rings upon your fingers. You laugh at the size difference of your hand and how they barely stay on your fingers.

The stationary mirror attached to the desk caught your eyes, and you begin to make funny faces at it. Which sends you into a hushed giggle fest that makes you double over in your seat. Still caught up in your laughter, you take off all of the rings, just leaving a couple on the desk and tossing a few over to his bed. You do the same with the necklaces, except for the two that you threw into one of the drawers.

That’s when your eyes caught the nice watches, stuffed in clear pouches with the brand labeled across them. Rolex is the first you saw, and the first one you picked up. You weren’t thinking clearly. Hence the reason you tore it out of it’s protective packaging and brought it up above your head, throwing it down to the ground and watching the tiny glass fragments splatter everywhere.

It’s not like he can’t buy a new one, right?

Feeling content and a little less frustrated, you left the messy scene and followed your footsteps back into the hallway. He didn't seem to hear you, so the determination to find out his name came across your mind and you became dead set on finding it, so you basically sprinted into his ominous office and delved into his comfy chair without care.

Your motor skills were altered and it seemed to take for ever to lift yourself out of the chair and tap on the computer keyboard for it to wake up. While it began its process of turning on, you led your hand down to the drawers and pulled at them. And that’s when you found the very first locked up thing in this house.

“Care to tell me what you’re doing in here darling?” His alluring voice blasted through your ears and made you leap upward. “It’s not been a day and you’re already back to being a brat?” You couldn’t see what he looked like, but his silhouette looked suited and enticing.

Very enticing, actually...

“M’trying to find out your name, Daddy.” You spoke before you could think, crossing your arms over your chest while your lips form a pout. His body leaves from the doorway, and you’re barely able to see him as he strides over towards you. Suddenly, a light flips on and you’re met with his beautiful frame, a smile daunting his face as he looks down at your innocence.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” He moves closer, wrapping his hand under your chin while his other has his blazer hung on his finger and thrown towards his back. He looks cute in a smile, until it forms into a confused frown.

“Have you been drinking, Y/N?” Your eyes widen and you quickly nod. You knew you’d be in trouble with him anyway, so might as well be honest now. “I c-couldn’t sleep and I- I just wanted a sip of somethin’.” You shrug, looking downward as you give him an okayish explanation.

“You know what helps me sleep?” He lets your chin go, dropping his jacket and beginning to roll up his dress-shirt’s sleeves. You shake your head, chewing your bottom lip as you take in his appearance. “A nice cocksucking does.” Thunder crackles loudly outside as his husky voice deepens and makes a cool wind run down your spine.

“Then let me help you..” You wrap your arms around his neck, twisting him around and forcefully pushing him down in the chair you were once sitting in. You were about to fall to your knees to “help” him, but he pulls your hips towards him and sets you on his lap. You replace your hands around his neck, sinking your fingertips into his hair and massaging the silky softness of it. He sweetly sighs, readjusting the leg you were sat upon.

And that’s when you feel the sensation you’ve been craving for however long you’ve been here.. you think..

“M’hm, do that again..” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. He actually obliges, his brows furrowed as he watches your face contort. “Like riding my thigh, huh?” He asks as he placed his large hands around your waist. You nod, moving your hips in the same direction. You eyes shut, your head falling back a little as you smoothly move against his muscled thigh.

It felt so good, everything felt so good actually. He somehow looked so much more attractive, the beard dotting his face and his hair styled nicely. Even what he was wearing had you wanting more.

You open your eyes for a moment, watching his pleased expression as he watches you needingly thrust yourself upon his warm, clothed thigh. He even steadily lifted his knee in the correct places, aiding in the pleasure that him alone could bring you. Your eyesight seemed foggy but visible enough to see the gun at his waist side, and you almost froze when you saw it. Even in your intoxicated state of mind, you knew that just the weapon could possibly help you escape and make it back to your own home.

You didn't think it through thoroughly..

You lean in, your lips next to his ear as you practically collapse upon him, though your movements to further yourself towards releasing didn't halt. You slipped your left hand down to his waist band, sensually gliding it over his tented groin. He shutters under your touch, clearing his throat as his heads falls back slightly. As quick as your body would let you, you grab for the handle of the gun and raise it up towards his forehead, stopping all your movements and gaining his attention.

"Y/N—" He starts, gliding his hands up your bare thighs.

"Don't fucking move, or I'll— I'll shoot you." You sounded clear as day in your head, but your words became slurred as they left your mouth, and he smirked at your innocence. Just as quickly as you pulled the gun, he took it away.

He grabbed the barrel and snatched it from your grip, placing it back into its holster at his side. You yelp as he grabs your wrists, twisting them around your back and slamming you into the table with an evil chuckle. "Better keep those hands pretty little hands to yourself, princess. You're too innocent to commit murder anyway." He continues his hoarse chuckles, licking a stripe up his hand before striking your slick pussy. "D-Ahh!" You hiccup, pressing your legs as close together as you can.

“Better fuckin’ pray that you can walk tomorrow, darling...”

to be continued...

61 notes · View notes

thelukesalvez · 4 years

Text

Luke Alvez x Reader: Just Friends

Request: "can u write one from luke's pov where he is madly in love with the reader but she's already got a boyfriend and he can't help but feel heartbroken knowing that he is just always going to be the readers best friend"

Word count: 5.1k

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @lcvischmitt , @ogmilkis , @goldenalvez , @ssa-morgan , @garcias-batcave , @akimagies, @zhangyixingxing1 , @pinkdiamond1016 , @yourwonderbelle , @rachelxwayne , @sc4rletw1tch

Warnings: angst

A/N: I kept thinking of early season Jim and Pam when I wrote this so there’s def office inspiration in this fic!!!!

“Square up, Y/L/N, you’re going down.”

Luke hovered over your shoulder like a bug that just wouldn’t go away, muttering discouraging words into your ear, trying to distract you from the task at hand. You had to admit he was doing a good job, because all you wanted to do was turn around and smack him, but you had to stay focused. A bag of chips was on the line here.

You took a deep breath and pulled your arm back, nothing but sheer determination in your vision, and you let your paper airplane sail. You watched as it flew through the air, coasting past the copier and fax machine, past the cluster of desks, past Luke’s airplane resting on the floor, until it hit the door to the break room and finally landed.

“Yes!” you shrieked, throwing your hands up in victory. “I beat you by like four feet!”

Luke stares, stunned at how you managed to sail your paper airplane all the way across the office space, but nonetheless, hands you over a dollar to get your bag of chips from the vending machines.

“You really should stop betting on things with me, I always win—“ you gloat, as you both make your way into the break room.

Luke leans against the vending machine, watching you select your favorite bag from the top row. “No way, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You laugh, shaking your head at Luke’s remark before opening your bag of chips and heading back to your desk.

Luke watches you go, that familiar sinking feeling becoming prevalent in his stomach, just like every other time you walk away. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his right state of mind. He loved the friendship you two shared, but sometimes he needed a minute to stuff down all the thoughts running through his head, otherwise his undying love for you might just slip out one of these days.

The hardest part of Luke’s day was at five o’clock, when your boyfriend would meet you at the door and walk out to the parking lot with you. Luke would smile and wave goodbye, pretending like it didn’t burn every fiber of his being watching you lace your fingers with his and smile into his side as you exited the building. Then, he’d slowly gather his things and head to his own car, wishing you were at his side.

…

You and Luke had been friends ever since you joined the BAU two years ago. Two entire years, and Luke still swears it was the minute you walked in on your first day, a spot of dried toothpaste on your chin, that he fell completely in love with you.

He spent that entire first week getting to know you, and the next planning out ways he could ask you out. He’d never been more sure that he’d finally met the person he was meant to be with. His soulmate, if you will. Luke had been waiting in his car for your gray SUV to pull in one morning. He planned on exiting at the same time as you, playing it off as a harmless coincidence, and then walking with you up to the third floor. It was a cold December morning when he saw Sam for the first time. Then of course he didn’t know his name. He knew the man as someone driving you to work, with slim shoulders and a trimmed beard. He leaned over the center console and planted a kiss right on your lips before making a U-turn and exiting the parking lot. Luke had let his head drop and made a beeline for the door, trying his best to ignore you calling his name and the gut-wrenching dread he felt.

That was two years ago, and Luke still hadn’t moved on. How could he when you sat only feet away from him? Spreading your infectious laugh and always being there to make him smile? No, Luke hadn’t moved on. Instead, he’d just learned to live with it. He swallowed his feelings and instead focused on the friendship that you two shared, no matter how much it killed him inside. It was always about more than friendship, and he knew it from the start. Even though that is what he loved most about you. Falling in love was quick, easy, inevitable. You would talk and laugh and be happy. If life is a series of moments, then it was those innocent instances that defined Luke for the longest time.

But falling also hurt. You were his best friend. You told him everything, but he had to keep his biggest secret hidden from you. On that first day, even if you didn’t remember it, he could see a future. Your future together. And for that split second he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, to forget about the rest of the world and focus on you. But there was no messing this up. This was you, and it was really just complicated.

…

Luke sat in his car in the parking lot the next morning eating his breakfast and occasionally warming up his hands in front of the air vents. Just as he was finishing off his bagel, there was a soft knock on his window. It took him half a second to realize it was you; your coat was zipped up to your chin and your beige scarf covered most of your face. Luke quickly got out of his car and you both exchanged hellos in the still-dark parking lot.

“What are you doing here so early?” he asks, shivering a little in the cold winter air.

“Sam and I kind of had another spat last night and I wanted to get out before he woke up…" you trail off. Luke’s jaw clenches at the mention of his name. ”What about you?“

“I have to make a call to the LA precinct first thing this morning. if I don’t call him by 8am sharp, he said he couldn’t file the evidence we gathered while we were consulting there on time. I wanted to go over the case file before that.”

“So you got here before the sunrise?”

“It’s a big file,” Luke says with a smile.

You chuckle and then look over to the far end of the parking lot, “Hey, come with me.”

It was one of those commands Luke didn’t have to hear twice. He followed you, his hand in his pockets and his nose buried in his own scarf. You both walked over to the edge of the lot, and you stepped up on the curb, standing on your tip-toes. Luke furrowed his eyebrows.

“Come on, Luke,” you say playfully.

He laughed nervously before following your actions. He faced the direction you were facing and saw that through the fence there was a perfect view of the distant hills on the east side of the city. The sky was thick and dark blue and the hills looked outlined with gold. The sun began to peek over the horizon and the buildings in the horizon went from grays to a bright mixture of yellows and oranges.

Luke glanced over at you as you looked at the view, smiling wide, the sun hitting your eyes. Luke could never quite tell, your eyes always looked hazel and sadly dull in the florescent light of the office, but for the first time he saw their true color: a brilliant green with splashes of brown near the center.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” you asked.

“Yeah, really is,” Luke says, still looking straight at you.

“We should go inside,” you said quietly, noticing his insistent stare from your corner view. “I’m freezing.”

Luke nods, eyes lingering on the view a moment longer before he trails behind you inside the building.

…

It's a habit, more than anything else, that has Luke lingering in the break room when he sees the tired lines in your face three days later. It’s instinct, to ask you if you want to talk. To take a seat at the table before he has a chance to consider the implications of what he’s just offered.

Besides, first and foremost, he’s your friend.

More than anything, he wants you to be happy. And if there’s something he can do to ease the tension in your shoulders, to watch the frustrated crease in your brow fade back into familiar calm, then he will. Of course he will.

Being the one to elicit a smile from you is worth the cost of his own discomfort.

Patiently, he listens to your perspective on the misunderstanding between yourself and Sam, he tries to detach himself from the situation enough to give you the sort of sincere and thoughtful advice he’d extend to anyone in that position. But he doesn’t want your thanks — your gratitude that much worse because it’s genuine.

Luke had served as the backboard for you since he met you. He was always around to listen. Maybe he was imagining it, but it seemed like you and Sam had been fighting more and more lately. He hated seeing you upset on a daily basis in the break room and he tried to ignore the sliver of hope he felt inside.

Apparently last night had been bad. Luke can tell the minute he sees your puffy eyes and quivering lip.

“What happened?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You shrug, trying to be brave, but the tears fall anyway. “He threw a glass at the wall next to me last night. He was drunk… muttering about how he thought I was cheating on him.”

“Oh my god—“ Luke said, gut dropping as he imagined how scared you must have been in that moment.

“I don’t think he’d ever hurt me or anything. But I was scared.”

“What’d you do?” he asks, taking the seat at the table across from you.

You curled your hands around your mug of coffee, “I left. Went to my moms. I think it’s over. I mean, it has to be, right?”

Luke wants to blurt out a gigantic yes, but instead he empathetically furrows his brows and nods softly, “I definitely don’t like the idea of you being scared.” And without thinking, he reaches his hand across the table and touches yours softly.

Your eyes shoot down to where your hands touch, all of a sudden you feel so nervous. You pull back and drag your coffee mug to your chest.

“I should get back to work.”

…

Luke has a hard time focusing the rest of the day. It was over. You said that. It was over and maybe, just maybe, Luke had a chance here. He’d be your friend first, of course. Just like it’d always had been. He wouldn’t rush you. But now he had a chance to prove how much you truly meant to him. He was elated. Lighter and more hopeful than he’d felt in months.

It all comes crashing down with the sound of the office door opening and closing. Luke’s fists clench at his side the minute he sees Sam walk through the doors. He’s ready to get up and ward him off if necessary; the idea of him yelling at you makes his blood boil. But he watches from his desk instead, as Sam makes his way to you, gently tapping your shoulder and whispering something in your ear.

Your initial reaction is wide eyes, filled with what is that? Fear? It fades quickly, morphs into anger. Then sympathy. Luke watches as you grab your coat from the back of your chair and willingly follow him out of the office, through the door without looking back.

…

“He apologized, and he really was just so sincere. I think he really meant it.”

Luke nods and takes another swig of coffee, which wasn’t even warm now. He cringes.

“Sounds it,” he says dully. Not even he can fake enhance the amount of enthusiasm in his voice.

“What’s that?” you ask, offended by his dull tone.

He looks at you and raises an eyebrow. Disappointment and anger and frustration all boiling under the surface of his skin after seeing you and Sam kissing in the parking lot again this morning, so he decides for the first time in a long time; to be honest.

“No, it’s just I’ve heard all of this before. It gets a bit old is all.”

“It gets a bit old?” you repeat, stunned by his response.

“Yeah you and Sam. He does something nasty, you break up or contemplate breaking up, then he apologizes with roses or chocolates or what was it this time? Perfume? Same story, different version. Can’t blame me for getting bored with it.”

And then Luke walks straight out of the break room and back to his desk, where there’s a light flashing on his phone. He presses the button and pulls up a chair to listen to the voicemail.

“Hey Luke, it’s Dave from the New York field office. Meant to catch you before lunch, but I wanted to talk to you about an agent opening here. It’d be a promotion for you. More duties, but more pay, all of that. Give me a call back with the details if you’re interested. Thanks.”

…

It ended in the parking lot, the blooming seed of happiness that lived deep in his chest was fading, right next to his heart. It was his best friend, his sole support, the girl of his life who made everything just a little bit better. It was you standing there, your jaw dropping with surprise and Luke with his entire heart and soul on the line.

It was Luke that changed the game. This game of yours, the little dance of just barely something more than friends. He had nothing left to lose, because he couldn’t do it anymore. So he gave himself an ultimatum. Tell her you love her. Tell her and if she turns you down, you can accept the job. Tell her you love her. Tell her and if she loves you back, you can live happily ever after.

The words hang thickly in the air. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

You stand still in your spot, eyes watering and eyebrows furrowed with confusion and surprise. And for a quick second, Luke thinks you might say it back. But then you drop your clenched fist to your side and you let out a loud, inconvenient sigh and it’s amazing how quick his gut picks up on the rejection. It drops as you start muttering about how “you can’t” and “you have a boyfriend.”

“Listen, Luke—“

But that’s all. Because Luke doesn’t want to listen. His hands wrap around you and Sam has never held you like you’re this precious. It’s gentle but firm, warm and large, pulling you softly towards him, gathering you, even as his mouth falls against yours, just as lightly, just a hint of pressure and you feel so small against him, against this unspoken message that he loves you. And it’s powerful.

“Luke—“ you say, finally pulling back.

He freezes, jerks away, his hands still gentle, even as his eyes are screaming, those big brown eyes that love you. “You’re really going to be with him?”

Your ‘yes’ is locked into your throat and tears fill your eyes, but somehow you can’t look away as you destroy your best friend from the inside out. There are a million reasons to stay with Sam and only one to leave him, because you maybe love Luke, but you maybe don’t love Luke, and it’s that thought that makes you nod.

“Okay.”

You can’t blame him when he walks away, when he holds on to your hands for as long as possible, even as he can’t look you in the eyes. You want him to look at you. You want him to fight for you, but you know that’s unfair to ask him. But you don’t want to lose him and you somehow know you’re going to and you need him to understand, but before you know it… he’s gone.

…

It’s not as if you’ve never seen his desk without him sitting there, because of course you have. He’s stayed home sick, made occasional use of his vacation days, gone on consulting trips and prison interviews— you know what the office looks like when the shape of him is missing, but it’s the permanence of it that hurts.

As you settle in that first day of Luke’s absence, you hang your coat up and take a seat, You let yourself miss him as a coworker and as a best friend and that’s it. Work will be work, with or without Luke Alvez.

But that’s a lie, because of course it hurts like hell.

Each day it’s harder, when it starts to sink in that this doesn’t mean a handful of days out recovering from the flu or visiting his family, but that there is a new and permanent Luke-sized hole in the fabric of you. So you play sudoku to avoid noticing the absence of his voice and you doodle in your notebook margins during case consultation meetings to ignore all the jokes he can’t whisper in your ear.

As the days go on, regret floods deeper within you. You always knew Luke was your best friend. But you probably always always knew he was more than that too. You just wished you’d been brave enough to see that.

That night you break up with Sam. This time, there’s no yelling or screaming or wine glasses thrown against the wall. It’s respectable and understood that they are just not meant to be. You thought there’d be a Sam-sized hole inside of you now too, but there’s not. Instead, it just makes room for Luke’s hole to grow bigger.

…

It’s twenty past seven and you’ve got your coat on and bag in hand when the phone rings.

You debate for a moment about answering it — after all, technically you shouldn’t even still be here.

But, well, you are still there, so it’s equal parts obligation and impulse that has you reaching for the handset and saying, “Hello?” with a slightly tired edge in your tone.

“Uh, hey.”

And — oh. Oh.

“Oh my god.”

“Hi.”

“Um… Hi.”

Witty. Clever. Exactly the kind of thing you’d imagined herself saying to Luke when you finally reconnected after too-many-weeks of silence.

“Sorry, I needed a number from Garcia. It was from a case we worked not long ago—”

“Oh.”

“—and I was just gonna leave a voicemail, because I didn’t think anyone would still be there.”

It’s hard not to wonder if Luke had been making an open effort to avoid you on purpose, if he’d waited to call until twenty past seven because you were supposed to be gone and he’s supposed to get a machine instead.

“Why are you still there?”

“I had to work late.” And then, because that sounds flimsy, goes on. “Well I didn’t have to, but there were just some open files I wanted to finish up.”

“Wow,” he says, the faint tone of amusement in his voice. “Wow, the BAU has really changed you Y/L/N. Going above and beyond, that’s not you.”

And you’re smiling—because it’s Luke and you aren’t sure your face is capable of behaving any other way around him—but there’s something nervous and careful in the lines of your expression that isn’t usually there. You’ve missed him, but knows that a subtle shift occurred in your relationship that can’t be undone, that things might never be as easy as they once were.

“Everything else is pretty much the same here.” Except—god, no—of course it isn’t.

“Oh…good.”

You change up your previous statement. “A little different.” Because you need him to understand that even though the routines of the office cycle on, no part of that environment could ever be the same to you without him there. Then you ask, “what time is it there?”

“…What time is it here?” He pauses, something uncertain and unsure in his tone. “Um, we’re in the same time zone.”

“Oh, yeah, right.”

“How far apart did you think we were?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, embarrassed. “It feels really far.” And you can hear his thoughtful, quiet agreement that suggests it’s more than just the miles dividing D.C. and New York that’s currently between you.

…

It took you until the next morning to get your act together. You were walking into the building, the sun rising across the lot, and you felt it. A crumpled up piece of paper in your pocket. You gripped it in your fist before pulling it out, unwrapping the paper and trying to make out the scrubbed words.

“You can’t get rid of me that easy.” It was a note from Luke. One from back before the airplane competition, where you’d bet on how many green M&M’s were in the jar resting on Garcia’s desk. You’d beat him easily, leaving time to gloat on how he should just give up on betting against you, cause you always won, just like you did every other time you two bet on something. Luke had left the note on your desk with the soda you’d won.

You could feel the tears surfacing, blurring your vision as you turned in your spot and starting walking all the way back to your car. You opened the note up again after you’d sat in the driver’s seat, unfolding the paper and running your hands over Luke’s scratchy scrawl and letting yourself feel what was long overdue. It all floods in at once. The despair, the guilt, the regret. But also the love and admiration and memories of laughing, smiling, feeling lighter than ever around him.

You stop in your tracks, backing out of the building and walking back towards your car.

You pull your phone out of the depths of your pocket and dial your boss’ number quickly.

“Emily,” you say when she answers. “I need to take the day off. I have to go to New York.”

…

The city was so close down the road, you could see the outline of hazy buildings out of the window. You stared diligently ahead, running through what you were going to exactly say to Luke when the time came. But before you knew it, you were pulling into the parking lot of the New York FBI field office, sliding into the spot beside Luke’s car as an automatic reflex, and you still had no idea what you were doing, what you would say. Yet your feet trudged up to the front door, almost like a little girl who knew that you had to admit to your mother that you’d smashed her favorite vase, because it had to be done, you just weren’t quite ready for the aftermath. There were no obstacles now. No Sam or unacknowledged feelings and you were sure that’s what scared you the most. What if, after all this time, Luke had just had enough? What if you just weren’t meant to be?

You walked right up to reception, waiting until the woman hung up the phone before telling her you were here to see Luke.

“Y/N?” his familiar voice rings through the air and when you look over, you can see him standing up from his desk. “What are you doing here?” There’s a hint of curiosity and surprise and maybe even a little excitement in his voice.

You couldn’t tell him here. You had to go somewhere more private.

“Could we um, talk?” you say quietly, offering him the slightest smile even amidst your nerves.

“Yeah,” he says, “let me just grab my coat—“ he motions back towards his desk with his thumb, where you see his familiar black jacket hanging off from the back of his chair. You wait patiently with your arms crossed across your chest, bouncing on the backs of your heels.

“All set?” he says, hand buried deep within his pockets.

You walk down to the parking lot in silence, still pondering what you were going to say to Luke in your head.

“How’s New York?” you asked after thanking him for holding the door open for you. You wanted to stall as long as possible.

Luke chuckles, “Common, Y/N. You didn’t drive three and a half hours to New York to ask me how the city is.”

You blush, of course you didn’t. But you still didn’t know what to say to him. To Luke. The man you loved, completely and wholly, with everything inside of you.

You could feel your cheeks growing hot as you thought about what you were about to admit. You’d had so much courage built up inside of you before, but now, it was quickly draining. You had to say it before you were completely empty.

“I miss you.”

Your heart’s still thumping like crazy, banging against your ribs, and you’re not entirely sure what you just said.

And Luke didn’t say anything back to you, but it wasn’t like you said all the stuff that you were thinking to him.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you continue, your voice wavering.

Luke shakes his head. “I’m okay.“

You nod. There’s a silence, long enough that you worry you’re not going to be able to say it all and nothing will happen and you’ll go back to being scared and afraid. You want to be someone who says what they feel.

“It’s just— the BAU isn’t the same and… I miss you. I miss you a lot, Luke. I miss my best friend.”

“It can’t be that way again, Y/N,” he says. "I wasn’t your best friend. I was in love with you.”

“We could just go back to the way things were—“

"No,” he says. He’s standing so still, arms at his sides. ”What you miss – that wasn’t friends. That was us… that was me being something more. All the time. And I can’t do that anymore. It hurt too much.”

You feel kind of sick, but a little voice in the back of your head says you should be grateful for whatever happened, because it was better than being endlessly, endlessly quiet.

“Then I’m really sorry,” you say at last. “Because I miss that.”

“What do you think that means?” he asks, and there’s a little heat in his voice. “What do you think you’re really missing?”

Before, you would have undoubtedly ducked your head and avoided the question, or flat-out lied. Now though, you had driven three and a half hours and you’re standing in front of Luke, far enough away that you have to speak up for him to hear.

“I know what it means,” you say quietly. “And you know.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t. You’ve made it clear you only wanted to be friends.”

“I don’t think I’ve made anything clear,” you say, and for the first time you have the urge to move closer, speak more softly, because this is the hard part, the thing you couldn’t say in front of everyone else. “I should have been honest a long time ago, and I know that, but I couldn’t until I knew what I wanted.”

“Do you?” he asks after a moment, his voice low. “Know?”

You take a big breath, letting the oxygen go to your head, willing back the feeling you had just before you ran up to the third floor. “I want to feel the way I did when I was with you, back before you moved to New York. I don’t want to be lonely, and I want to redo the past two years except it made me figure out a lot of things about myself, so I don’t know. I want stuff to be easy, Luke, and it isn’t, and I thought that maybe if we could be friends again I could have one thing in my life that made me happy, even if it wasn’t what I really wanted.”

He’s quiet for a long time. The wind whips against you, making you shiver.

“Why can’t you say it?” he asks.

“Would anything change if I did?”

“I don’t know, everything changed when I said it.”

“Fuck it,” you mumble, the cold air filling your lungs, “I love you. I have loved you but I was with Sam and I was afraid and I didn’t know it. And I’m still afraid, but I know it now.”

You stare and wait for his reaction, hoping with everything inside of you that you weren’t too late. But the look on Luke’s face, the sad, almost pitiful stare, gave you reason to believe that you were.

And your courage drained for good.

“I’m sorry,” you said, wiping a tear falling down your cheek, “I shouldn’t have come. I’m gonna go. It was nice to see you,” you mumble before turning away and heading towards your car.

When Luke saw you turn away, it was as if lightning struck him. All he could see was your back, stiff and tense, walking back towards your car, parked near his, and suddenly he didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know how it had come to this. The last several months had turned you both into people he didn’t even recognize anymore, and he blamed himself.

You were all he ever wanted. You were the one he saw in his dreams and imagined in his fantasies for years on end, and he had you. It was supposed to be forever, but all he seemed to do anymore was hurt you. The Luke from six weeks ago would absolutely kill him for that. The Luke from six weeks ago would feel about him like he used to feel about Sam. Sam took you for granted, and didn’t consider your feelings.

Like Luke was doing now.

He sprinted toward you, his long legs reaching yours in just a couple of long strides, and he grabbed your arm to turn you around. You had no idea what was happening, but he didn’t stop to explain. He simply wrapped his arms all the way around you, and held you close. You didn’t resist, but you didn’t reciprocate immediately. He pulled you closer. He buried his face in your hair, nuzzled into your neck, and tried to breathe you in. He remembered the electric shock of when you first met (for him, anyway), how it felt to love you and not be able to have you. He couldn’t let himself let it slip away.

You finally wrapped your arms around him, and he felt a small shudder go through you. You pulled back and he could see your face crumple just before you took his face in both hands and kissed him. When you parted, you were both smiling as said, “I love you” in unison.

#luke alvez fic #luke alvez imagines #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader fanfic #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez x reader #criminal minds x reader imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader fic #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez angst #criminal minds

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mirrorforevers · 4 years

Text

any human friend • graham coxon/reader

i know its been a while but at last its here! thank u so much for the prompt anon, hope u didn’t give up on me n i hope u guys enjoy it jkhkdjd loved writing this fic so much

word count: 2.873 pairing: graham/fem!reader

It’s a Saturday. Usually, you always have plans with your friends after your concerts, but for different reasons they all canceled that day's meeting. Life was tough for artists on the rise. The week had been exhausting enough that you wouldn't give up drinking to forget about your problems. When you arrive at the pub, you don’t recognize any familiar face, and, somewhat disappointed, you sit next to a man with graying hair who is very concentrated on his phone.

A bummer of a night for such a talkative girl.

“One pint of lager and a packet of crisps, please.” You order, mindlessly tapping on the table to the beat of a random rhythm. You kept stealing sideways glances at the man sitting by your side.

“Can’t believe she did this.” The man mutters, still very concentrated on whatever he was watching or reading. You, for a split second, thought he was judging your very basic order for some reason but then noticed he just thought out loud, and you joke: “What’s wrong with my order, mate?”

This takes him out of his trance as he awkwardly and quickly apologizes, and while you calm him down you notice he’s one of the artists that shared the stage with you on The Nightingale earlier that day. He was absolutely incredible - you wanted to tell him how much you enjoyed his music but didn’t get the chance. Well, apparently now’s the time. “Wait, I saw you playing today.” is what you say, mid sentence, a little starstruck even though, just like you, he wasn’t famous. You were at the same page in a matter of stardom, actually. He blushes and smiles, and after he takes a long sip of his drink, he asks: “And did you like it?”

“A lot!” You answer a little too excitedly, containing yourself so you don’t scare him away. Music was always a topic that excited you to the point of making you tremble sometimes. “Um, you’re an awesome songwriter. I played in The Nightingale today too, I don’t know if you were already there when I played. My name's Y/N, by the way. You’re Graham, right?”

“I actually arrived when you were at the stage. And yes, I-I'm Graham, nice to meet you, Y/N.” he chuckles, giving you his entire attention after he shakes your hand. Turns out you’ve found a company on this lonely Saturday night. “You’re an awesome singer, I’m quite honored to hear that you enjoyed my show.”

It was now your turn to blush, and you playfully motion as if dismissing his comment. “You were something else. ‘In The Morning’? I think that was the name of the first song?” He nods, basking on the attention his work has gotten from a fellow artist, and you continue: “Your playing alone somehow sounded like 3 different guitars on that one. Don’t Believe Anything I Say was a favorite of mine too, what an earworm.”

“You remember the names.” He notes, genuinely surprised and… happy. “Your voice blew me away too. You… you were stellar.”

God knows how hard it is to make a name for yourself. Actually, to make people just pay attention to what you’re doing when you aren’t a commercially successful musician is really tough. You know how you feel when you’re complimented in that sense, and you’re shocked that Graham’s artistry has been ignored all this time. He truly deserves the praise, and you want to give it to him.

“Thank you, you’re too kind. I mean, how could I not remember the names of your songs? They’re fantastic. For how long you’ve been playing?” Your order arrives, and you eat your crisps while he talks about the role music has had in his life. His reveal that it’s just a hobby to him surprises you.

“And what do you do for a living?”

“I paint. I’m a visual artist.” He steals some of your chips. “I enjoy it just as much as I like to play, but only painting is putting money in my pocket. What about you?”

“I actually work at a bank, but I’m trying to make music my main job. Do you plan on changing careers in the future, or…?”

“Oh, no. I’m too old to be a rockstar.” He ruffles his hair, timidly. There was something about this man. He’s quirky and seemingly distrait at his absurd musical talent, you almost feel offended at what he says about himself.

He also has super broad shoulders and his arms are somehow really strong and his lips inviting but you push these thoughts to the back of your mind. He’s a total stranger, after all. An adorable and extremely talented stranger, but still a stranger.

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re awesome, bloody hell, I became a fan of yours just from that gig and music’s just a hobby to you. I imagine you’re bloody Da Vinci when painting.”

“I’m really not all that, I swear.” He laughs. "Something I found curious was that you only stuck to covers. Why is that?"

“Oh. You noticed.” You answer, a little embarrassed. “I’m still not that confident in my own material. I write songs, but… let’s say I trust my music taste way more for now.” He nods in understanding. “But before you lecture me though,” he chuckles at your energy as you continue ranting. “I know how important it is for me to sing my own songs, I’m just building up courage to do it. I still think they’re stupid.”

“The only way to find out is to play them. People make all sorts of faces. It’s like a thermometer.”

“It’s true.” You down some of your pint in hopes it gives you more stuff to talk about. “Which of my songs you liked the most?”

“Well, they’re not your songs,” he jokes, and you share a laugh.

“Shush. Go on,”

“But I quite enjoyed your rendition of that Fiona Apple song and Wild Time. Also your cover of Band on The Run was really great. Not everyone nails that one.”

“Thank you. Those were my favorites too.”

“But I’m looking forward to seeing you again with your own material. Blend them with the others, depending on who you were influenced by, they’ll fit right in.”

“You’re right. Thanks for the words of wisdom, Graham.”

“No problem.” He pauses for an instant. “You’re a regular here, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m here with my friends every Saturday night, but they all cancelled on me last minute. Some of them went to see me play, at least.”

“Huh. That’s rare enough. You were lucky.”

“I know. Did... anyone you know... come to see you?” You know what you were trying to ask him, and he knew too.

“Um… Someone used to.”

“What happened?”

“We weren’t exactly right for each other.” he smiled wistfully. “Did someone other than your friends… see you?”

“Not really, no.”

A comfortable silence hangs between you two, as both of you share some shy smiles. A song by The Smiths starts playing in the background, and that’s enough to get the gear of a nice talk running once again. You really liked this man. Gradually, he talks more about himself, and also learns so much about you in the span of a few hours.

As you feel more comfortable and used to his presence, you allow the back of your hand to brush against his a few times as you pick up your food. You give no indication you noticed the weight of his gaze, and you feel the butterflies fluttering on your belly. After eating and having a few more drinks, you were out on the sidewalk.

There's nothing you loved more than the aftermath of afternoon storms. The earthy scent that permeates the city's dusk while its lights are reflecting off the wet asphalt, the mysterious aura that hovers over every street is something that really speaks to your senses, in a way. You also loved how those lights now reflected in Graham’s eyes. He offers to walk you home - after you tell him where you live he agrees it’s indeed not very far. Those who walk past you might think you’ve been friends for years.

As he walks you up to your door, you feel he’s reluctant to say goodbye. And so are you.

And the inevitable question escapes from your lips.

“Will I see you again?”

“I… I hope so.” He answers, somewhat relieved you asked. “Whenever you feel like it. And… whenever you’re free, of course.”

“I’d love to. Actually… Graham, if you can, of… of course, I-I want you to stay tonight.”

He blinks, as if the invite went completely over his head. You giggle, and make your intent more clear. “Gosh, don’t make me repeat myself. I want you to come inside.”

“Inside, yes,” he blushes, his eyes shining. He reacts like a flustered, yet excited, teenager. “Of course. I want to stay too, then.”

You were definitely not expecting to bring someone home tonight, so your flat is a cozy mess you try to conceal as coyly as you can. You show him to the couch, and after handing him another beer, you go to the kitchen to fiddle with your temperamental oven to try and get it to warm up enough to cook a frozen pizza. While you wait for it to cook, you stand in the balcony, watching him from afar still wondering about the courage you mustered to bring him home.

His eyes met yours, and there it was, that cute, easy smile of his again. He sighs, as if silently asking what was going to happen next. And you answer. “I barely ate anything today because I was so nervous I was finally playing on The Nightingale. I know we ate already but I’m still hungry, sorry for being anticlimactic.”

“Don’t worry.” He looks around, a little nervous. I guess that’s a first for him too, you think. “Cute place.”

“I recently moved so there’s still a lot to unpack, but I haven’t had the time.”

Small talk ensues, and after you finally eat what you need, you share the couch with him - in a somewhat of a bold move, but just to show how comfortable you feel around him, you place your head over his shoulder. His arms fall over yours.

“Thanks for not letting me spend my Saturday night alone.” You murmur, positioning yourself so your face is closer and facing his. He tends to speak with his brown eyes - which are now cast on your mouth. He answers by very calmly slipping his hands below your ears, making you shiver, and pulling you to a tender kiss.

Then he says, “Thank you for having me.”

He kisses you fully now as you arch into him. His hands are now inside of your coat, teasing to take it off, but before they explore your skin further than your sides, he asks if they can, if you’re comfortable with going all the way. You nod, positively impatient. After a few more heated moments of kisses, you now find yourself on your back, with just your bra and jeans on, his weight on top of you as his lips travel down your jawline and your neck. His fingers run tantalizingly through the hem of your high-waisted jeans. “Planning on taking that off any time soon?” he whispers.

“I was afraid you might think I was going too fast if I went any further, actually,” you giggle. “Do the honors.”

“My pleasure.”

After he takes it off you, he pulls you closer to him, your bare skin against his still very clothed one, and you wrap your legs around his waist, once again trying to be as near and physically intimate with him as possible. He seemed to want that too, slowly rocking his hips against yours, groaning softly. “Please get rid of those too,” You whine, voice slightly breathy, tugging lightly at his striped shirt. Your wish is his command.

Now that he’s shirtless, if he was already an eyeful to you before, you absolutely can’t take your eyes off his body now. He’s surprisingly fit for his age, though that wasn’t something you were particularly meticulous about. You were aching for him, painfully wet, and your anticipation was almost tangible in the air you shared - he detected it, apparently, and you hear the slightest waver in his voice when he adjusts himself to slowly begin stroking you over your underwear. “Tell me if I’m going too hard.” The softness of his voice made you shiver. You nodded, not intending to tell him anything of the sort as you pressed yourself harder into the soft pads of his fingers, gradually picking up speed. In a few more moments, you were worked up enough to nearly panting.

You pull your panties to the side and guide his hand to your heat directly. His other hand lifts your chin. “You want to see my face while you touch me, right?” you asked, voice smokey. He huffed gently, eyes darting away, a light blush spreading on his cheeks while your breath starts to falter. You don’t know what does it, exactly – the slow and deliberate circling on your clit, the lingering over skin that makes you whimper your pleasure, or the gentle flick of a finger over the small bead of nerve endings, but suddenly everything is blurry starbursts and your body is spasming with the intensity of your orgasm.

You let out a sound that’s hallway between a whimper and a sigh as reality blurs back into your consciousness. As you come down from your high, you try to say something but your voice doesn’t seem to be working quite yet, so instead you shut your eyes and let out a long breath. That had been intense. You wonder what Graham has in store for you next.

His finger then enters you without warning and your hips buck involuntarily into the penetration. You clench around him, gnawing at your bottom lip as he eased his finger in and out of you. You closed your eyes and shuddered at how good it felt. He pushed two in deep and crooked his fingers. You felt a flush of new heat radiate from your middle. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, shakily, and sank into it.

“I don’t intend to.” He coos as he presses the pads of his fingers against the walls of your pussy. Involuntarily, you made this needy guttural sound you’d never heard from yourself before. You wanted to ask what he was doing to you. While it felt good, it was different. There was a new kind of tension now. It wasn’t like your first climax. This was hot and urgent and taut like a fist clenching. You writhed on the couch and mewled for something.

Feeling you were close once again, he abruptly stops his movements - that fucker! - to your clear dissatisfaction - and rids himself of the rest of his clothes. His size intimidates you a bit, but you were determined to make it work. Once his hips are adjusted to meet yours once again and he puts on protection, after a few more kisses and a few more hard breaths, he is inside you, hands not leaving your clit this time as the eager hips of both of you started to settle into a cohesive pace.

"So fucking tight," he breathes. Your fingers dig into his skin as he's getting faster and more urgent with every thrust. His breathing is ragged and his eyes are half closed, and you tilt your face up and kiss him sloppily. There is no possibility for precision. Your bodies are rocking back and forth together too quickly for that. He grabs your ass, drinking in the moans he pulls out of you. "Come on my cock, baby, touch yourself for me," He murmurs into your ear, teeth grazing the lobe. Your attempt at a reply is cut off by another moan, pleasure overriding your senses.

He isn’t going to last very long, not if he keeps fucking you like his sole purpose is tearing you apart. And neither will you, as one of your hands goes to your clit and moves in sync with his hard thrusts. You want to tell him that you're about to come, but you can’t, you can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone coherent phrases, so you tighten the hand that’s gripping his arm tight and you press a bruising kiss to his lips while you clench around him, hoping it’s enough. Seconds after, judging by the way his breath falters and his pace becomes slightly more mechanical before it slows down and stops, you guess that has done it for him too. You stay some long minutes in that position after you're both done, completely spent.

He pulls out of you after he gives your forehead a small kiss. "That was amazing." He smiles, voice still a little breathy. "You're incredible in every way."

"So are you, and I didn't even know about that talent of yours."

"Got some more time for me to show you the rest of them?"

"Definitely."

#graham coxon #graham coxon x reader #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #blur #blur band #graham x reader

78 notes · View notes

gio-is-writing · 4 years

Note

Hi Giovanna ༼ つ ◕◡◕ ༽つ your writing makes me happy thank you can u pls write hcs (and fluff🥺pls)for Bruno and f!readet who’s Giorno’s big sis and she’s the same age as bruno

REQUEST: Hi Giovanna ༼ つ ◕◡◕ ༽つ your writing makes me happy thank you can u pls write hcs (and fluff🥺pls)for Bruno and f!readet who’s Giorno’s big sis and she’s the same age as bruno

and Can i ask for brunoxf!reader where she’s Giorno’s older sis (the same age as bruno) hcs and fluff scenario 🥺❤️

I felt really inspired for this one so i went off with it then my brain got fried at the end😔 hope you like it!!

Pairing: platonic! giorno x fem! reader // bruno x fem! reader

Warnings: giorno’s past, everyone survives the boss incident

BROTHER’s BOSS

(Y/N) was a neglected child, her father left no long after she was born and her mother was barely home. Almost as living alone she lived by the things the other kids and their families that lived nearby provided to her

When she was five her mother ended up pregnant and she was happy, in her head that meant that she would have someone to play with like the other siblings did around the block and perhaps mom would finally be home

When Giorno was born she was utterly in love with his tiny form, he had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen and she swore she would protect him always

Apparently Giorno didn’t have a dad either and their mother never changed, (Y/N) hugged the baby every night in the darkness of their tiny home while he trembled and tears ran down his cute face.

A few years later their mother remarried and they had to move away from Japan to a whole new country with an unknown man

(Y/N) had a hard time with communicating, learning was new language out of the blue was stressful for the poor girl but she did her best for both her brother and her

After some time, everything seemed to fall into place, (Y/N) was almost hopeful of having a family like her friends had but that was far from what she got. Their new “dad” was mean, when mom was away, he got angry without a reason and the children were the target of his wrath and while she often put herself to protect her brother and most times, she was successful, others she wasn’t so lucky.

Walking along the streets she met a few children around her and her brother’s age but they weren’t as friendly as the ones she used to know, often picking on them and making mean comments

“Wait here Giorno” (Y/N) ran to a near shop to buy themselves something to eat with money their father surprisingly lend them (and rushing them out of the house). Turning back with a paper bag she noticed Giorno was surrounded by three tall men, she panicked thinking that Giorno had gotten himself in trouble somehow but as she ran over, they walked in the direction the kid pointed to

“Giorno, who were those men?” (Y/N) grabbed him by the shoulders and looked around

“No body, can we go home now?” she sighed and nodded, grabbing his hand and walking away unbeknownst to the man laying a few feet away listening

A few months passed when they were walking under the rain, each holding a small umbrella of their own when (Y/N) noticed Giorno had stopped walking right in front of an unknown man, gasping she rushed back a few steps

“I’ll never forget what you did for me”

(Y/N) stayed silent beside her brother, the glanced at her and their matching umbrellas. Turning he walked away leaving the poor girl confused looking at her little brother who just stared at his form

Things started to change after their encounter, their father stopped hitting them and the boys of the streets invited them places. (Y/N) was taken aback but at least she felt finally at peace, having Giorno to grow up in a better environment than when she was his age

Years passed and Giorno was a teenager of 15 now, (Y/N) a young adult of 20. She worked for a local flower shop to provide for the both of them, Giorno disappeared from time to time but always came to check up on his sister. She was suspicious of where her brother was off to but never pried too much.

Until one day the truth was out, Giorno trusted her enough to tell her about how he joined the mafia. (Y/N) was shocked, scared even but listening to everything Giorno shared about his experience so far made her feel a little bit more at ease.

Days later he came followed by a young man in a white suit, he looked quite familiar and if she remembered well this same man had visited before to talk with her boss.

“(Y/N), this is Bruno Bucciarati... my boss.”

Her eyes widened as she quickly bowed politely. She felt nervous, this man was really important to Giorno and he had come all the way to meet her, plus he was incredibly attractive.

“Thank you for taking care of my brother Signor Bucciarati”

“There’s nothing to thank signorina”

After their first meeting she had seen him walking around town while everyone saluted him cheerfully. He was a well known man with a great reputation and (Y/N) could see why, he was respectful and kind.

He stopped by the shop every month to collect money from the owner and occasionally gave (Y/N) a small wave if she was not occupied by work and she kindly waved back with a smile

In his monthly visits he lingered just a little longer to properly greet her with the excuse of checking up on the local business and their workers but she noticed how he didn’t really stop at the next local, or the next after that.

They started making small conversation over random things on his way out, asking about her favorite type of flower or her favorite dish. She slowly learned more about him, how he was her same age and loved to eat pizza once in a while

Giorno teased her on his occasional visits saying how unlikely of him to stop so frequently but (Y/N) paid him no mind laughing it off and going back to work. Giorno would smile and kiss her cheek as a goodbye leaving her to her own thoughts.

“Oh hello signor Bucciarati” she greeted one morning “The owner is not here today but he told me he paid last we-“

“Please, call me Bruno. And I’m not here to see him...” he interrupted her, she placed the plant sprinkler down and looked at him expectantly “I came here to talk to you”

(Y/N) saw his serious expression and grew increasingly anxious “I’m sure Giorno told you about our upcoming journey...”

“I don’t know much details but I know you’ll be gone for a few days”

“Yes... good.”

“Is there something wrong... Bruno?”

“I...” He stayed silent for a minute looking at his hands before speaking up again “Let me take you out when I return.”

(Y/N)’s poor heart felt like it would explode, she stared back at him with a surprised expression. Of all things he could’ve said that was the last one she was expecting out of him, asking her out on a date. She blinked a few times before a smile made an appearance between red cheeks,

“I’ll be waiting on your return then...”

They both a blushing mess smile and Bruno nods. He thanks her for her time and leaves the local to “attent to some other business” with a wave. Watching as he walks along the sidewalk (Y/N) was left a giggling at his sudden invitation and she hoped that whatever they had to do was quick for him to return early.

The week Giorno and his gang left (Y/N) was a nervous wreck, constantly hoping on hearing from them and to know if whatever business they were attending was near being done. Days seemed unending as she opened and closed the shop everyday since their departure and she was restless, unable to sleep at night from overthinking about Giorno’s whereabouts and therefore Bruno’s.

Another day started and she felt different, the weight she felt in her chest all week felt lighter and she didn’t know any better she would agree that the sun shined a little brighter that morning.

Opening the show however was uneventful as usual, the first hours just watering and cleaning around when she heard the bell of the door ring

“Good morning, welc-!”

Looking up stood Bruno Bucciarati holding the a bouquet of her favorite flowers. Poor man looked wrecked with exhaustion but in her eyes he looked as handsome as ever. She was left speechless as he smiled in her direction.

“We’re back...”

She didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck in a sudden rush of bravery. He was a little surprised but quickly wrapped his own arms around her waist with a bright smile.

“I’m so glad you’re back, I was worried sick!”

“Giorno has a lot to explain to you...”

“I’m sure he does” she sighed unwrapping her arms from him but he kept his hands on her waist

“I believe we have plans for tonight then”

Bruno’s voice from a week ago resonated in her mind to remind her of the plan he had in mind for his return. She smiled widely and nodded.

“We do”

That night after she clocked out of work, Bruno waited for her outside ready to lead her to his personal favorite restaurant.

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