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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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No More | [2] | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: WOW. i did not expect that to blow up as hard as it did. thank you so much!! [this seriously might become a series. we’ll see.] [also, that means you’re getting a backstory. a very… need for speed backstory ;)] i really do think this is shitty but that’s all part of the plan baby!

warnings: cussing, alcohol, simon drinks to forget but he always remembers, non-sexual nudity, mentions of genocide, mentions of trauma, mentions of past careers, mentions of planes, mentions of crashing, mentions of american citizenship (you don’t have to be from there if you don’t want to be! i live there and i don’t want to be here! it’s just important from a certain aspect of your previous career.) simon is also a lot more lovey when he’s drunk.

summary: He’s convinced he should leave. He’s convinced himself that you are better off without him, better alone than being hurt by a shell of a man like him. He barely got a foot out of the door before he changed his mind.

part one here! | SERIES MASTERLIST

He had more bourbon in the past two months than he’s ever had in his entire life. The sickly sweet pull and the burn down his throat was a comforting pain as agony ripped through his heart. He sat alone in your shared apartment, a dim lamp being the only light in the entire space. He hadn’t gotten sick of the bourbon like he usually does, he couldn’t move it from the coffee table - he had sat forwards, arms resting on his knees and hands dug into his hair.

He was bone tired. He hadn’t slept in two days; it was a normal occurrence now that you had gone on that mission. He had to take leave so he didn’t rip Price’s throat out for not letting him go with you. The ache in his head still hadn’t gone away with the aspirin he took a few hours ago and the full bottle of his best bourbon down the hatch. The night wasn’t flying by like it did last night, he could hear the clock on the wall tick as he wallowed in his own misery.

Sometimes it took him weeks to bring up the scalpel and separate Ghost and Simon, divide the halves into quarters and dissect what actions could have been better performed to produce a better outcome - essentially, what he did to fuck up the one good thing he had going for him, and how he could fix it. He took your words to heart, and he was taking a very long time to stew over everything he could have done that would’ve have made him look like he didn’t trust you. Simon trusted you with every fiber of his being, he loved you more than that. He knew you were an amazing fighter, your fire to help those in need could never be extinguished.

He realized later rather than sooner that Ghost was why you didn’t trust him - Ghost was protecting the person Simon loves the most. And maybe, that included when you were home too. Keeping Simon locked away so he didn’t get hurt, so Simon didn’t get hurt by you.

If he had half a bottle less, he would’ve gone up to bed - but the room felt suffocating without you. He couldn’t lay in a bed that smelled like you if it became one of the last things he had of you in case you were killed, so he had cat napped on the couch for the past nine weeks. If he had a bottle less, he wouldn’t have thought about how his absence wouldn’t hurt you as much as Ghost does - if he had the £348 he spent on alcohol back, he wouldn’t have thought how this place felt like your home. Never his, he also categorized it underneath Ghost’s half - keeping his love at arms length so his self-destruction doesn’t hurt you.

He was drunk. Piss drunk, since he had never gave himself time to sleep off the bourbon. Ghost was cracked in the middle, and Simon was punching out holes in Ghost’s façade. Ghost never allowed Simon to feel, never allowed him to connect with anyone - a self-defense mechanism. But now? Ghost was almost gone, and he felt like himself now. And God, did it hurt.

How could he have done this? How could have pushed you away so far that your rope was dwindling by a thread, how could he have hurt the one thing that made him begin to unlock the cage around his freezing cold heart? He felt it in his chest, the raw burn and tug of desperation - he knew that he had to cut the thread.

He didn’t want to, he would give anything to not let you go - but Simon couldn’t let you keep getting damaged by his defense measures.

If he had no alcohol in his system, he wouldn’t have gotten up like he did. He wouldn’t have waltzed to the guest room, messily packed his duffle and brought it to the living room. He wouldn’t have grabbed a pen and an old pad of paper. And he definitely wouldn’t have written the note he was writing now.

He folded the note, lifting up the bottle of bourbon on the coffee table and setting it down on the table, putting the bottle on the corner to hold the note down. His hand grabbed his duffle and he stood and he made his way to the front door. He slipped on his boots, only caring enough to tuck the laces into his socks before Simon went to open the door. He took the time to turn around, gazing at the dim apartment that smelled like you, that held all of your important belongings. It was the place that cradled you when you were down, the place he kept falling for you, the place he would kneel to the kiss the ground you walked on.

This was the place he loved you.

Honestly, in the back of his mind, he knew his sober ass would walk home after a week.

Before he could open the door, the lock turned and the door burst open - he threw his duffle into the adjacent kitchen and was about to fight. That was before he saw you.

Dirt and blood caked on your face, your duffle hanging from your hand, your hoodie tattered and your neck bruised - and he watched as the tears raced down your face. He could barely even begin to speak when you flung your duffle inside and dove into his chest, arms wrapped around his chest so hard, he thought you would pop his lungs.

“Baby, baby, hey,” He cooed, his hand immediately held your head against his chest - he pulled you both out of the way so he could close the door and lock it, now he was immediately sobered up. Your sobs were loud now, your hands gripped onto the back of his shirt so hard he was convinced it would rip.

He tried to pull you away but you refused, begging, “Please, pl-please don’t let me go.”

“Where’s Cerby?” He spoke gently, keeping his hand on the back of your head, feeling dirt crusted into your scalp. You must have come straight here.

“With K-Keegs.” You mumbled, muffled by his thin t-shirt with a faded band logo on it. He sighed, sad that his dog wouldn’t be home for a few days but he let the feeling go. All he needed to focus on was you, and definitely not his foolish actions from literally three minutes prior.

He hummed then, his free hand moved to underneath your thigh - he pulled it up so you would get the hint, which you did. Your arms moved from around his chest to around his neck and you jumped into his arms, caging your legs around his large waist as best you could. Both of his hands held the back of your thighs, he glanced to the kitchen and made sure both of the duffles were there and unharmed. They were, so he turned around and walked down the hallway to the bedroom he hadn’t used in since the last time you were home. He pushed the door open, turning on the warm light before walking into the ensuite bathroom.

He flicked on the light before moving to sit on the side of the bathtub, it creaked under your combined weight - you were sat firmly on his lap and his hands went to your back and head, cradling you.

“I’m gonna start a bath for you, love.” He spoke, his voice wavering with uncertainty as your arms wrapped tighter around his masked neck.

“No, no, please, don’t let go.” The tumble of words from your mouth made his grip on you tighter. He couldn’t imagine what happened, he didn’t want to - he thanked God that he decided to drink that entire bottle of bourbon a couple of hours ago. His mind was muddled, he could barely get any thought out of what could’ve happened. All he wanted to do now was help you.

He kissed the top of your head through his mask, dismissing the feeling of cloth against his lips and he gently pulled your head back, he gazed into your red-rimmed eyes. He whispered your name like a prayer, as if you were an angel - which you were to him. Even covered head to toe in dirt, blood, and grime, he would still be able to see your halo through any darkness. “Let me help, love. Let me help you feel better, then I won’t let you go for as long as you want.”

“I can’t.” The voice he heard was almost unrecognizable, he had never heard you sound so small. “I can’t, I can’t.”

He sighed, moving forwards to press the skull to your forehead - something he did when he knew you needed it. You physically relaxed when he did it, your back bent into his hand as you pushed every single ounce of weight onto him. His fingertips pressed into your spine, dragging up and down it from above your shitty old hoodie. He stayed like that for a few minutes, letting you cry against his mask. He gave you a bit of time before he pulled up your hoodie, you obliged and let him pull it over your head. You were just in your dirty black sports bra, and now he got a good look at you.

He felt bile rise in his throat. Your entire chest was spray painted in black bruises, he got a good look at the dark purplish handprint on your neck. He looked back up at you, your head faced to the side as you cried, ashamed.

“Oh, my love,” His hand returned to the back of your head, cradling it as he gazed at you. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You quickly shook your head, tears removing most of the grime on your cheeks. Your arms were now at your side, fiddling with the hem of his athletic shorts while you let out a broken sigh. His hands moved to lift you off of his lap, one hand didn’t stop touching you while he pulled off your boots, tossing them to the side before tugging off your holed socks. He made a mental reminder to buy you new socks at the base shop while he placed a hand on your back, guiding you with him as he moved to turn the faucet on. He turned it all the way up then back a little, the temperature you liked. He plugged the drain and put his hand underneath the flow of water, waiting for it to turn almost hot - normally, he would’ve made it extremely hot, you had always said you thought it was like being boiled like a lobster. But, he didn’t want to agitate your injuries. His hand moved from your back and didn’t break skin contact when he took your hand, still looking away from you but he still held your hand gently.

“You’re warm.” You mumbled, moving his hand up to settle on your cheek.

“I know, love.” He answered, turning back to you. His hand slipped from your face and down your side to your belt loops, undoing the buttons and zipper then pulling down your pants. He took your hands as you stepped out of your pants, watched as you kicked them behind you and he observed new pink scars, healed but still fresh. Surrounding them were black bruises, identical to the ones on your chest. He heard your whimpers of pain when you stood back up, his hand ghosted your side as he gazed at it, seeing identical black bruises again. Even if he felt sober, he knew that the adrenaline from you showing up injured would wear off and he would become sloppy. He didn’t hurry, he took his time as he pulled down the boxers you stole from him and toss them away. His hands found the bottom of your sports bra, your wince made him pause and look at your face again.

Fat tears still rolled down your cheeks, silent sobs left you as you kept your eyes closed. Your hands stayed at your side until he murmured, “Raise your arms please.” You did as you were told, he tugged it off quickly but not as painlessly as he wanted. You let out a loud wheeze that echoed throughout the bathroom, he placed his hand on your side again, his presence close to you as he leaned down and shut off the water. “‘m gonna pick you up, love.”

“Okay.”

He did as he had said, gently swooping you into his arms and placing you in the warm water that reached up to your collarbone. Your eyes opened again when he retreated from the tub, your gaze watched as he pulled out a towel from the closet and began to rummage through it.

“I almost died.”

Simon visibly froze as you turned back, your gaze now staring at the light above the tub. He peered around the door, hand clutching a washcloth with a pain he couldn’t soberly place. “Do…Do you want to tell me?”

You didn’t respond. He brought all of the materials to the side of the tub, he gently pet your head.

Simon, drunk as hell, bathed you with care. He didn’t speak a word and neither did you, you stared at the wall the whole time except when he tried to wash your hair. You let him move you under the faucet, rinse your hair for five minutes because he couldn’t tell if the soap was gone yet, let him dry you with a towel and dress you in new clothes.

You could barely keep your eyes open when he carried you to bed, tucking you in before he did himself. He watched as you curled into a ball, facing him and keeping your eyes on the sheets, your hand drew circles beside your face. He turned off the lamp on the nightstand, drowning the room in darkness and settled back onto the bed, watching you with bated breath.

“Got trapped in a burning truck.” Your voice almost spooked him, his eyebrows furrowed. You just stared at the gray sheets. “RPG’d the ground in front of us and flipped it. Knocked Logan and Keegs out. Hesh got launched from the driver’s windshield. Had to drag them out and triage them in an abandoned warehouse while trying to fight off the enemy. Got captured for a week. Keegs saved me.” You sniffled a little, your hand reached for his - he instantly took it. He squeezed your hand. “Had bad flashbacks. It had been a while since I’ve got stuck under burning metal and tortured. S’why I was crying.”

“How’re the boys?”

“Watchin’ Cerby and all as stubborn as always. All fine.” You mumbled, pressing his rough skin to your chapped lips.

A deafening silence settled then, your thumb threaded over the back of his hand while he felt your breath graze it. He began to feel drowsy, the slow turn-table of dizziness was coming back from earlier and all he wanted to do was place his head in your neck and just breathe. He needed you like he needed oxygen, you touch him and he felt like it was the first breath he’s ever taken.

“Sleep, baby.” He murmured, sliding down from his sitting position, underneath the soft duvet. He moved closer to you, settling his head so that he laid face to face with you. He could barely make out your nose and cheeks in the dim moonlight, but he could see the glisten of your eyes as they gazed at his.

“I haven’t had a PTSD episode since I left the US Naval Aviation division.” The voice he heard sounded nothing like what you normally do - it was small. Broken. Damaged. An echo of you.

He furrowed his brows, he thought he knew everything about you. Both your dad and childhood best friend were pilots, but you never specified what kind - and apparently neglected to tell him that you were one too. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a pilot?”

You sniffled, squeezing his hand and ignored his question. “Got shot down over enemy territory. Crash landed and had to pry my legs from my jet as the fire burned.” The sensation of his hand being squeezed tighter made his dizzy mind think that you were angry - but in reality, the memory of burning metal against your hands made you feel scared. You wanted to pull him closer, to have him shield you from your memories. Yet you kept talking, even if you recognized the hurt twang in his voice. “Had to fend for myself in an abandoned city just over the border in Ukraine. Stayed in that town for three weeks ‘til Special Forces came and found me.” You pulled his arm to your chest, pressing his hand into your cheek. “S’where I met Price. Almost shot him too, thought he was an enemy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the flashbacks?” His voice was softer then, he pressed his warm palm down to your jaw. “I could’ve helped you, my love.”

“‘Cause it’s not important now.” You murmured, both of your hands cradled his. “Wasn’t even s’posed to stay with 141, meant to go back to Miramar. Meant to get back in the air.” You took a quiet breath. “I fell for you and everything I knew went up in smoke.”

His heart dropped to the floor. It thumped against it, still pumping blood but it hurt in his chest.

“If I hadn’t given it up, I wouldn’t have you.”

“I would give up anything for you.” He whispered. “Don’t give up anything for me, darling. You deserve everything you have.”

“That means I deserve you.”

“You don’t deserve me.” He immediately answered, his other hand went to settle on the duvet, tugging it up more. “You don’t deserve my problems, how fucked up I am.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.” He settled his hand on your side, feeling you breathe underneath his fingertips. “I’ve hurt you, not on purpose but I still did it.” His thumb circled on the duvet, you barely felt it as his voice became quieter. “You really hurt me when you walked away.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice wavered, he couldn’t bear to hear you start to cry again. He paused, hand coming from your hip to completely take off his mask - something he had never done in your presence before. He tossed the mask away onto the floor as he moved forwards, placing his lips against your moonlight dusted cheek.

“I deserved it.” He answered, settling back and pulling your hands into his chest. “Made me think for a while.”

“You’re drunk.” A statement he didn’t deny, he pulled your hands upwards to his collarbone.

“I am.”

“Because of me?”

“Because I hurt you.” He answered, now pulling your hands to settle on his cheeks. “I want you to feel that I trust you, because I do.” He began to move your hands upwards, his eyes fluttered closed as your fingertips traced his warm face, tracing his eyebrows and dancing over his eyelids.

“Simon, you don’t have to let me do this.” Your hands paused, his own grip settled on your wrists. “I want you to be sober, you’ll be mad at me tomorrow.”

He scoffed, moving his head to kiss one of your palms, keeping his eyes closed as he whispered, “I could never be mad at you. Frustrated or upset? Yes, but angry? No.” He gently rubbed your arms, hands moving to settle on your own cheeks. “I’ve decided that you need to really know how much I trust you. How much faith I have in you. How proud I am of you.”

“You hurt me for so long.” Your voice cracked so heavily, fingertips grazing his forehead and memorizing his nose, coming down to trace his lips you knew well.

“I want to fix it.” His lips kissed your palm again, eyes opening to gaze at your dimly lit face. “Give me a chance.”

“I think this is most comfortable you’ve ever been to talk about things like this.” You remarked, hands stopping on his jaw, cradling it. “I want you to show me how much you trust me, but when you’re sober.”

He nodded in return, moving forwards to place a slow kiss on your lips. His hands moved to settle on the side of your head, pulling you forward just a little. When he broke the kiss, he placed another on the tip of your nose. “You’ll know how much I treasure you until the end of time.”

“Okay.”

“Just don’t leave me like that ever again.” His voice was low, one hand going to trace down your body. “Ever.”

You nodded as you moved closer to him, chest to chest. He removed his other hand from your cheek and slid his arm under his pillow.

“Sleep, love. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

_______________

comment for part 3! (part three here!!)

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(i was not able to tag some - i apologize!)

@luhvbot @its-me-ya-boi-lisa @ladystarfishnut @chris3tom2pau1rdj @kat-nee @efsa-lks @angelsquid @marytvirgin @medivalpersephone @ramadiiiisme @blueoorchid @guiltyconfessions @abbiesxox @lockleywife @nicomactavish @nose235678 @lumpypoll @multi-fandomlovers-world @holyfeck @thriving-n-jiving @kgive @simonsdoll @crazyfandomist @ryunniez

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley mw2 #simon riley call of duty #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley x afab!reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x fem!reader #lethal chiralium #lethalchiralium

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cryoculus · 1 year

Text

— imagine being loved by me! ⟢

pairing: xiao | alatus x reader

summary: the one where your best friend gives you ten tattoos over the next ten years. the problem? you fall deeper in love each time the ink stains your skin.

word count: 7.1k words

tags: modern au, tattoo artist!xiao, childhood friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, relationship study, non-explicit smut

warnings: emotionally stunted xiao but i fink everyone knows that already, mentions of needles, there's smut but it isn't detailed

notes: this blog's been dead for Months but i thought i'd revive it with this fic that my beloved @delvalentine commissioned me to make! i love u to DEATH, v, i hope i did your requests justice :')

header art cr: yuca7302 on twt

01.

“Ow, fuck! Can you be more careful?!”

“I am careful. You just have a shitty pain tolerance.”

“Wow, that’s not something you should say to your first willing client,” you huff, trying not to pull away as Xiao repeatedly punctures the skin of your forearm with pen ink and a not-so-sterile sewing needle. “My family could sue you if I die from a blood infection, you know.”

Xiao rolls his eyes. “Something this small won’t kill anyone. Plus, you came here on your own volition, so stop complaining.”

“Are you saying you’re just going to let me die of sepsis if everything goes to shit?”

“Pretty much.”

You didn’t know what to expect when your best friend of several years asked if you wanted a tattoo of your favorite constellation. It’s been a running joke between the both of you that the two moles on your forearm looked a lot like two-thirds of Orion’s belt, and that maybe, in another life, you would’ve been born with all three of its stars on your skin.

You should’ve known that Xiao likes to blow your expectations out of the water—whether he intends to do so or not.

It’s sundown when he finishes embedding black pen ink beneath your slightly inflamed skin. Xiao doesn’t comment when you repeatedly complain about how much that fucking hurt, and that you’re never agreeing to do it again, but you don’t miss the way his eyes occasionally flit up to the starry sky before shifting to your new ‘tattoo’ as he walks you home.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget that night. How you admired the amateur handiwork in the soft glow of your nightlight while thinking about the boy who gave you a star fashioned with his own fingers where others would’ve given flowers instead.

But then you remember Xiao is nothing but your best friend, and it’s a little…weird to be thinking about him like that.

Must be the sepsis fucking with my head, you muse before flicking off your nightlight, and the room is plunged into pitch black darkness.

02.

You’re eighteen when you realize Xiao is completely serious about this tattooing business.

It comes as a not-so-pleasant surprise to you one day when your high school’s guidance counselor approaches you while you’re hurrying over to your next class—asking if you’ve seen Xiao around these days because apparently, your best friend hasn’t been attending his classes for a better part of the semester.

Of course, you receive the news with a scowl. While you don’t exactly see him all that much at school because of how different your schedules are, you never expected to find out he’s been playing hooky all this time.

You don’t particularly like sticking your nose into other people’s business—especially not Xiao’s, since you know how he likes to keep to himself better than most. But for some reason, you aren’t able to resist, and end up calling him after excusing yourself from your two-hour Biology lecture.

Once your classes are done, you head over to a nearby tattoo parlor whose address Xiao texted to you right after you squeezed his whereabouts out of him during that phone call. It’s located in one of the more run-down parts of town that your parents would’ve detested Xiao for inviting you to. But whatever prejudice you might’ve had about the denizens of this district all go up in smoke once you meet the owner herself.

“You should’a seen Xiao practicing with our machines a few months ago!” Beidou, as Xiao had sheepishly introduced earlier, barks out a laugh before slinging an arm around your best friend’s shoulders. “Said there’s someone he wanted to give permanent tatts to. I’m guessing you’re the guest of honor?”

“Beidou,” Xiao groans. “It’s not a big deal. I already practiced on her before.”

You don’t completely catch it when Beidou makes an inappropriate joke as a response to what Xiao just said—eyes trained on the fading dot on your forearm. It’s been two years since Xiao gave you your first ‘tattoo’, and even if the receding ink makes it look like one of Orion’s stars are starting to die out, it’s still there.

“Okay,” you say in the middle of their bickering, startling both Xiao and Beidou in the process. “I’ll let him ink me if he wants to.”

Xiao stares at you with brows furrowed. “You sure?”

No, you’re not sure because as much as you want to support Xiao in what seems to be a budding passion of his, you’re certain that your father is going to kill you when he sees a full-blown tattoo on any part of your body. You barely got away with the artificial mole that Xiao did for you a few years back.

“Positive.” You back your words up with an indignant huff before sifting through the pre-made designs on Beidou’s catalog. “You just have to put it somewhere not everyone can see, I guess.”

Beidou snorts out another jarring laugh when Xiao clicks his tongue to alleviate the embarrassment that’s painting his face just a touch of red.

Earlier in the day, you intended to scold your best friend for not taking his studies seriously, but ended up going home that day with a new piece inked onto the skin of your left hip: a little spruce twig that you last remember seeing in your old hometown—years before you even met Xiao.

There’s no particular meaning behind it, apart from a hint of sentimentality and rebelliousness. It’s your first actual tattoo, and one of your best friends gave it to you, free of charge. Even if it hurts ten times more than Xiao’s novice needle method from two years ago, you end up loving it more than you thought. One time, you stare at Xiao’s intricate handiwork in the mirror for so long that you nearly run late for your first class of the day.

(Another thing that makes this particular piece memorable is the process itself.

Xiao is a person who’s always been startlingly precise in everything he decides to put his head into. When you learned that he wanted to become a tattoo artist, you instantly felt like there’s no other path more perfect for him than this.

Yet you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers sometimes trembled as he gave you your first piece—with you lying chest-down on Beidou’s tattoo chair in nothing but your shirt and underwear. It shouldn’t have been strange. Xiao has seen you dressed down like this dozens of times before.

But when all’s said and done, he refused to meet your eyes, and you don’t have the slightest clue why.)

03.

You just can’t stop staring when you see Xiao’s half-sleeve for the first time.

It’s meant to be a phoenix, he said, but you can’t really see it because the patterns are too abstract to make sense of. Still, the azure ink sits nicely on top of his built bicep, and you have to tell yourself that you’re just trying to find the stupid phoenix as an excuse to keep ogling him.

Thankfully, your weird fascination lasts for only about a week until you’re back to shitting on him like you always do.

By some miracle, Xiao manages to graduate high school despite being on probation from his excessive absences. He’s actually smart if he makes the effort to hit the books, but you’re not sure if he’s planning on going to college with how comfortable he is with being one of Beidou’s most in-demand tattoo artists.

You ask him about his future plans at a party being thrown by the previous captain of the football team in his parents’ lavish penthouse somewhere uptown. It took a great deal to force Xiao into tagging along with you as your plus one, and you’re going to make good on his acquiescence by interrogating him about things he normally skirts around.

“I told you, I didn’t take any entrance exams,” he grumbles against the rim of his red cup. “I’m managing just fine working for Beidou, so I don’t see any reason to go to college.”

You’re about to argue that Beidou’s tattoo parlor won’t be open forever, and that he needs to think about broadening his career options until a bunch of girls with linked arms shuffle closer to where you and Xiao were lounging on the couch. You don’t talk to them a lot, but everyone in your grade knows the infamous Pyro Trio.

“Hey, Xiaooo,” Hu Tao drawls with a smirk, pushing up her sleeve to reveal the branches of a cherry blossom tattooed on the delicate skin of her arm. Behind her, Xiangling and Xinyan snicker like it’s some sort of inside joke.

You intend to shift your gaze elsewhere. Clearly, you’re not the person these girls want to speak with. But the sight of the ink on Hu Tao’s skin makes the back of your neck prickle with misplaced irritation. Xiao must’ve been the one who did her piece, which shouldn’t be a surprise. Though he’s this year’s most notable absentee, rumors about Xiao’s handiwork haven’t gone unnoticed among the students in your (now) alma mater.

That doesn’t mean you have to like the idea of your best friend inking other people that aren't you, though.

You decide to excuse yourself from Xiao’s company—given that Hu Tao is giving him plenty of attention already as is. Your best friend utters something you don’t quite catch as you walk away, and you don’t bother turning around to ask him to repeat himself.

(As you stuff your face with shot after shot, you force yourself to just keep dancing to the rhythm of whatever song is blaring to the speakers. You didn’t give two shits about the fact that Hu Tao keeps feeling up the stupid phoenix tattoo on Xiao’s arm. Nor did you care about the fact that your best friend—who’s normally evasive when it comes to casual contact—seems like he doesn’t mind at all.)

The night ends with Xiao begrudgingly getting behind the wheel of your car, since you’re obviously in no state to be driving anyone home. When he announces that he’ll bring you back to your apartment, you slur out a drunken protest—asking if he can take you to the tattoo parlor instead.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Why?”

You huff, curling in on yourself on the passenger seat. “The cherry blossoms you gave Hu Tao were ugly as shit. You can do a better piece on me. Y’know, as practice.”

Both of you know that you’re bluffing. Xiao’s pieces are one of the most intricate you’ve ever seen, even if he is a rookie tattoo artist, and that you don’t have a lot of points of reference to compare to. But instead of taking offense at your mindless jab at his work, Xiao slots the keys into the ignition with a defeated sigh.

“Fine. You mentioned wanting spider lilies a while back,” he says before propping his arm against the car seat as he backed up on the street. It’s the perfect angle to moon over his not-so-phoenix tattoo, and if you were any more intoxicated, you would’ve reached out and squeezed his arm.

“Where do you want it?”

You know he meant to ask where you wanted him to put your prospective tattoo, but the question sends your mind straight into the gutter. Thankfully, you still have some semblance of coherence lingering in your drunk thoughts, and you answer with:

“Right hip. Opposite end of the spruce twig.”

When Xiao heaves another sigh and steps on the gas pedal, you don’t think much of it—still convinced it’s completely normal to expose such intimate parts of yourself to your best friend so he can tattoo a fucking flower just above the swell of your thigh.

04.

“You have been watching way too much anime.”

“Come on! At least I’m not having you tattoo the names of my shitty ex-boyfriends on my ass, right? Just give me my modified Tanjiro hanafuda and Fullmetal Alchemist flamel!”

“...Is this your way of coping with taking up a nursing course? Is it that stressful?”

You whine as you hold your phone closer to your ear, already picturing the look of disbelief in Xiao’s face when you asked when he’s free to give you your next tattoos. You still go to college in the same city, but it’s been weeks since you last saw him.

“You have no idea,” you groan. “It’s like my first year, and I’m already burned out! How is that even possible?”

Your best friend grunts on the other line. “Maybe if you stopped being such a perfectionist, then maybe you’ll learn to be more content. Less stress on your part, too.”

“Ah, no can do. I never do anything that isn’t perfect,” you chuckle. “

“Yeah, I saw you score at the top of your class during your, uh… what was it again? Biochem exam?”

For someone who doesn’t exactly give a damn about anything outside tattooing and other similar forms of artistry, you find it endearing to know Xiao actually remembers all the things you rant about in the wee hours of the morning. You don’t hate biochem, but if you have to draw another chemical configuration, you might just pop a vein.

“Okay, let’s say I agree to tattoo those weird doodles you sent,” Xiao propositions, “do you even have any free days? You usually study on weekends, right? I don’t think you’re free to drop by the shop even if you wanted to.”

Fuck. He’s right. You still have a few major exams coming up in the next two weeks. If you wait that long until you get your silly weeaboo tattoos from Xiao, you would’ve already gotten over your momentary hyperfixation on the TV shows that were salvaging your sanity in the middle of the semester. It wouldn’t feel as thrilling to get them anymore.

“I’m free…” You trail off, eyes darting to the digital clock by your desk then to the course notes you have opened on your laptop. You haven’t studied as much as you wanted to for your upcoming anatomy test, but…

“Right now, actually. Can you pick me up?”

You can hear him frowning. “Don’t you have a car?”

“I do, but I don’t wanna drive when I have plastic wrap all over my body.”

“You’re exaggerating. It’s not all over your—”

“Jesus, get the hint, Xiao. I miss my best friend, and I want to have a quiet evening cruise on his motorcycle before he gets me inked again!”

Xiao falls silent, and this time, you’re having some difficulty picturing what expression he’s wearing on his face. You like to think you’ve startled your un-startle-able best friend, but that’s pushing your influence too much.

“Okay,” he says, more agreeable than you thought he’d be. “I’ll be there in thirty. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me.”

05.

When you introduce your first serious boyfriend in a while to Xiao, you’re a bit annoyed with how prickly he’s being.

Sure, it’s wired into his system to be the snarky asshole everyone knows and loves, but if there’s anyone else who knows about the tragedy that is your love life better than yourself, it’s Xiao. When you finally land a decent guy to settle down with, you at least expect him to be a bit more supportive.

“Actually, we came here ‘cause we planned on getting matching tattoos,” your boyfriend, Yin, explains with a dimpled smile. “Isn’t that right?”

You stifle a soft laugh, a bit embarrassed to agree, but too in love with your boyfriend to protest.

A few years ago, you distinctly remember drunkenly rambling to Xiao about how stupid it is to get couple tattoos especially when relationships these days are built on flimsy foundations.

If you break up, what then? You have a physical reminder of that person on your body for eternity? No fucking thanks!

“Sorry, we’re closed right now, as you can see,” Xiao grunts before jabbing his thumb at the sign he just turned at the door. “You can try some other time, though.”

At the time, you were pissed at Xiao for denying your little request. He always agreed to ink you during ungodly hours of the day, but now he’s playing the ‘shop’s closed’ card just because he doesn’t like your boyfriend?

But then, you end up grateful for his attitude exactly a month later.

“Fucking cheated on me with some bitch from his Physics lecture,” you sniffle on Xiao’s ratty sofa as he makes you some tea in his kitchen. “I can’t believe I nearly tattooed our anniversary on my wrist! I would’ve had to fucking amputate it in the end.”

Xiao sighs before placing a piping hot cup of honey lemon in front of you on his coffee table—crossing his legs together. He doesn’t tell you I told you so, like others probably would if they were in his shoes. Your best friend just stares at you with withering understanding, no matter how stupid the choice that got you here in the first place turned out to be.

That’s one of the many things you loved about him.

“You were supposed to have ‘XV’ inked together, right?” he asks.

You huff before tossing some of the soiled tissues you used into the bin. “Yeah. We made it official on September 15th.”

“Well, if you still want the tattoo, you could just give it a different meaning.”

Scowling, you stare at Xiao as if he just grew a second head. “What the hell are you talking about?” Is he really suggesting for you to get the same tattoo that he denied you and your ex a month ago?

Xiao shrugs noncommittally before taking a sip from the tea he prepared for you. “It’s been fifteen years since we became best friends. That’s worth commemorating, at least. Unless you suddenly don’t give a shit about that, too?”

Your jaw hangs agape at the sudden reminder. October 15th. When you were four, you accidentally spilled orange juice all over Xiao’s teletubbies backpack, and when he forgave you on the spot, you crowned him as your first bestie.

That was fifteen years ago. Holy shit.

He startles when you abruptly shoot back to your feet, earning yourself a perplexed stare from Xiao who just wants you to sit down and drink your damn tea—

“Is Beidou’s shop open?” you ask. “I want her to do our matching tatts.”

Xiao grimaces. “Our?”

You nod brusquely, tugging at his arm. “Yeah, I’m allowed to have matching tattoos with you, ‘cause you’ll never walk out of my life, right, Xiao?”

He’s always been a stubborn little shit, so you don’t really expect Xiao to relent as quickly as he does. You nearly stumble to the carpeted floor when he lets you pull him up—faces hovering so close to each other, you nearly choke on your own breath.

It doesn’t help that Xiao has definitely…put in a few inches of height. Back then, you used to tease him a lot for being taller than him, but now?

“Never,” he whispers so softly, you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren't as close to him as you are. “Now drink your stupid honey lemon tea so we can head to the shop.”

About two and a half hours later, you’re sitting on the vacant seats in the shop’s waiting lounge—a familiar sting still sizzling beneath your ribcage from where you had your first matching piece with Xiao permanently inked. You made him swear to have his own ‘XV’ tattoo made on the same place, and he makes good on his promise when he emerges from the workroom, wearing nothing but his dark-washed jeans.

Unlike yourself, you rarely see Xiao in various states of undress. The most skin you could get out of him on most days is the lean muscle of his tattooed biceps, and sometimes those are enough to have you staring dumbly at him for several minutes.

Now, though?

You learn that he has several tattoos on his torso—spread across his skin like patchwork. It makes you wonder if he did some of them himself, or if he had Beidou work on them for him. Still, despite the plethora of new ink stains to gawk at, his weird phoenix tattoo remains as your personal favorite.

Along with the newest piece he got not five minutes earlier—the tattoo he shares with you.

“Are you happy now?” he grumbles, letting you marvel at the perfect roman numerals just below the jut of his ribs. “It’s a good thing Beidou gave it to us free of charge, you know.”

You giggle. “All of my tatts so far have been free of charge.”

“That’s only because you’re special to me,” Xiao sighs before freezing up in the next moment—like he didn’t mean to let that slip aloud.

You smirk. “Mm? What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Fuck off.”

06.

Much to Xiao’s disappointment, your shitty taste in men doesn’t exactly end with Yin.

About three months after getting the tattoo to commemorate your fifteen years of best friendship, you meet Kaeya. He’s an exchange student, and you know better than to form any sort of attachment to someone who isn’t going to be in the same continent as you by next year.

But you let him in anyway.

You allow Kaeya to get to know you in ways that not even Xiao is familiar with. The smooth-talking foreigner likes to kiss every single one of your tattoos—lamenting the fact that they’re all inked in spots hidden from view. You laugh every time he brings it up, saying your parents are going to kill you and Xiao if they saw any of the pieces your best friend did for you over the last six years.

“That best friend of yours…” Kaeya muses once he’s done bringing you to paradise and back, smoking a cigarette that makes you wrinkle your nose with distaste. He would’ve been perfect, if only he wasn’t such a chronic chainsmoker. “He’s in love with you, isn’t he?”

You nearly fall off the bed at his bold declaration.

“W-What the fuck are you talking about?” you stammer. Xiao? In love? With you?

Kaeya shrugs. “I dunno, sweetheart. If I was a tattoo artist, I wouldn’t let anyone freeload my craft as many times as you did—even if you are my best friend. Unless I was down fucking bad for you, of course.”

Xiao doesn’t like Kaeya, but the reasoning behind it is a bit different from why he doesn’t like your ex. He knew Yin wasn’t a good match for you. Kaeya, though? The two of you had inarguable chemistry. The only problem was he was a free spirit that didn’t like to be tied down by commitments—something you clearly struggle with.

When you reassured Xiao that Kaeya is nothing but a way to scratch a passing itch, he merely scoffed and told you to do whatever you wanted.

Could his dismissiveness be because…he’s in love with you?

That can’t be right. You’re the one who knows Xiao best. If he hypothetically does catch feelings for someone—much less, you—you’ll surely be the first to notice, right?

Right?

Kaeya chuckles before tracing the XV tattoo along your ribcage with a cold finger—almost like he’s teasing. You roll your eyes before crawling back on top of your midnight lover, kissing him just to shut him up.

When you drop by Beidou's the next day, Xiao is nowhere to be found.

“Didn’t he tell you?” She gapes. “Our boy’s starting his own shop downtown! He had the soft launch and everything a week ago. I was wondering where you were.”

“Uh…”

You’re not sure how to break the news that Xiao has been giving you the cold shoulder ever since you got together with Kaeya. But finding out that he put up his own tattoo parlor without even telling you?

If Kaeya turns out to be right, and your best friend really was in love with you, he sure as hell wasn’t acting like it.

Deciding to play along with whatever game he’s playing, you make an appointment to get a new piece inked under a fake name. Xiao accepts it right away and schedules you for an early evening slot. You make it a point to arrive twenty minutes late just to get a rise out of him.

When he sees you at the entrance to his shop, you almost let yourself feel smug about the unadulterated surprise on his face. Almost. You’re still pissed off that he didn’t invite you to one of the most important milestones of his life.

He fulfills your request in silence—the French word for green inked unassumingly on the underside of your shoulder blades. Xiao doesn’t say a word about his evasiveness, nor does he address the fact that you, his literal best friend, are standing in the shop he’s kept a secret for god knows how long.

When he still refuses to talk, you slam your payment on top of a nearby table—intent on storming out of the building even if he hasn’t wrapped your newest piece in a protective layer of plastic yet. Xiao barks that he doesn’t want your fucking money, and you end up throwing your hands in the air, asking:

“Then what the hell do you want?”

You expected him to blow up in a fitful of rage. He’s never been good at anger management, you knew this well. But instead, he crosses the distance separating the two of you and crushes your mouths together.

“You,” he whispers hoarsely, desperately against your lips. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Kaeya calls you multiple times that night—even leaves a text message asking where you are and if you’re free. You aren’t able to answer any of them though. Not when you’re busy being railed into the next life by your best friend of fifteen—going sixteen—years in the same bed that Kaeya just had his way with you a week ago.

When Xiao’s lips graze each and every tattoo he personally inked onto your pliant body, it’s leagues different from when Kaeya does it. It’s like your best friend is leaving a trail of fire sizzling beneath your skin everywhere his mouth trails along your hypersensitive flesh.

Even the way he makes you fall apart from a blistering orgasm is ten times more intense than every session you had with Kaeya and Yin combined.

There’s no affection nor is there adoration in Xiao’s gaze as he fucks into you—golden eyes fueled by something carnal and zealous, but you knew better than to call that love.

When morning comes, Xiao isn’t here with you, and you don’t know which emotion to feel.

Kaeya, at least, has the decency to leave a note whenever he has to depart early. But all that your best friend leaves you with is a sinking feeling in your stomach, and a glaring realization that you did not want to make when you’re crying all alone in your apartment at the crack of dawn.

Kaeya was wrong. Xiao isn’t in love with you.

You’re in love with Xiao, and you immediately know you’re in deep fucking shit because of it.

07.

It’s two weeks into your mission of complete radio silence when Xiao finally breaks.

You’re in the middle of a pharmacology lecture when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You knew it wasn’t Kaeya because he’d already packed his things last week and headed back to his home country. The bastard even asked you for a quick farewell fuck, but you turned him down right away and gave him a kiss goodbye instead.

When you find out it’s a text message from the same person you’ve been trying to avoid all this time, you’re all too quick to parse through its contents.

Xiao: I'm sorry. Can we talk?

That’s how you wind up standing right outside of his new tattoo parlor.

You haven’t been able to take a good look at it the last time you were here—too frustrated with your best friend to really make sense of your surroundings. But he’s put up his new shop in a pretty good part of town. You wonder how Xiao managed to afford it all.

Then again, he’s been working at Beidou’s shop for years. You knew he had a decent number of regulars, as well as potential clients that are highly interested in his work.

For once, you let yourself be proud of him. Even if he didn’t put your name on the guest list for his soft launch.

Xiao looks a little sheepish when he lets you inside and flips the sign on the front door to give the two of you some privacy. You aren’t faring any better. The last time you saw him, he was balls-deep inside of you—fucking you like you’re the most despicable woman in the world.

“So there’s this…collage piece I wanted to try,” he starts, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

Of course when Xiao invites you over to talk, you shouldn’t have expected any actual talking to take place. That’s just not his style. He’d rather make up for whatever mistakes he made by inking another stupid tattoo on your body, but honestly? You’ll take whatever you can get.

When you saw his sketch of a Statue of David peppered with four-leaf clovers, you couldn’t even dream of parsing the meaning behind the piece. The only thing that makes you relent is an old memory of you and Xiao hunting for four-leaf clovers in your mother’s garden—even putting the effort to plant whatever you could find in a pot in hopes that they would grow bigger.

It takes him hours to complete the entire thing. This one is probably the most realistic piece he’s done for you, and you can’t help but watch the intense concentration on his face through the mirror on the wall as he inks it a few inches above the last tattoo he did for you.

You’ve never really realized how…breathtaking he looks like this.

His fringe falling across his pretty gold eyes, the comfortable set of his jaw as he focuses on his work, and the soft slope of his cupid’s bow despite how harsh the words that come out of his mouth can be.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You really are in love with this guy.

When he’s finally satisfied with his work, Xiao puts down his machine before wiping a sheen of sweat off his brow. He already looks so fucking good while he’s working. How is it fair for him to look even more gorgeous right after the entire process?

“Come on, let’s wrap it up,” he says before stretching his limbs. The action makes the cropped shirt he’s wearing ride up his torso a little, and you’re teased with a glimpse of the tattoo he matches with you.

Your heart nearly leaps to your throat, and if it weren’t for the dull sting of your newest tattoo, you would’ve been entranced by the sight of him entirely.

“Sure,” you say, even if your heart is begging for you to just be honest with him. To let him know how you’ve felt all this time because frankly, you can’t keep carrying the weight of your own feelings for much longer.

But then you remember how…apathetic Xiao looked like the night he dared to tell you he wanted you. There was no love to be found in his animalistic gaze, and you fear that he’ll turn you even further away at the slightest hint of more-than-friendly affection from your end.

You can live with this. His fleeting yet heated touches. His deep, piercing stares.

You’ll do anything to preserve what you have with him now—even if that means sacrificing everything else you could still dream of.

08.

Sometimes, you think Xiao is making you hope on purpose.

Sure, your friendship was more or less salvaged after offering your Statue of David tattoo as a quiet apology. You’re back to teasing him for all the most minuscule things, and Xiao is back to being your voice of reason in no time.

These days, though, you don’t really have much time to hang out with him like you usually do. You’re in the last year of your nursing degree, and your shifts at the hospital on top of your regular academic workload render you much too exhausted to catch up with any of your friends. Xiao included.

But there comes a night when he visits you in your apartment when you’re busy studying for a tricky surgery exam—a bucket full of fried chicken, and a bottle of sparkling water in hand. What kind of fiend would turn away an unannounced blessing like that ?

You munch through the midnight snack Xiao brought for you all while forcing him to do your flashcards with you. He knows the drill, anyways. Though he’s been out of school for years, Xiao is still familiar enough with your study habits to be of substantial help during these trying times.

While you’re in the middle of differentiating the different types of sutures, though, he proposes an idea.

“It’s been a while since I inked you with a sewing needle and pen ink, isn’t it?”

You narrow your eyes, taking a swig of your carbonated drink as your gaze flickers to the pseudo-Orion’s belt on your right forearm. The third star has all but faded from view over the years.

“Yeah, why are you asking?”

Xiao rummages through his knapsack for a few seconds before bringing out what seems to be a small sewing kit, and a jar labeled ‘Indian ink’. You gulp in equal parts dread and anticipation.

“I figured out how to make the tatts stay longer,” he says, a gentle smile settling over his face. “You want me to give you a new one? I can even revive good old Orion, too.”

You sigh. Who are you to turn the love of your life down anyway?

Xiao gets to work while you’re lying sideways on your bed, flinching every now and again because he decided to outline the spitting image of the flower vase sitting on top of your nightstand along the curve of your waist.

Unlike your first experience with manual needling, your pain tolerance is much better. The only reason you’re squirming every time Xiao embeds the ink into your skin is because you’re fucking ticklish. All those years of being intimately acquainted with Beidou’s tattoo machine were all the sensory training you needed, it seems.

When Xiao is done with this piece, he pulls you into an upright position, making you hold out your arm so he could resurrect the first tattoo he ever gave you. You roll your eyes, but let him do as he pleases anyway.

At this point, you’ll let him do anything with you.

It’s nearly three in the morning when you’re putting away the dishes and glasses you and Xiao used for the night. He’s kind enough to throw out the trash while you clean up in the kitchen, and when he meets you back in the living room to exchange farewells, you don’t really want him to go.

“You have morning classes tomorrow, right?” he murmurs as he pulls you into a firm embrace, careful not to press down too hard on your new tattoo. “Take care. Don’t burn yourself out too much. All your hard work will be for nothing if you end up keeling over before graduation.”

You can’t help it. The soft timbre of his voice coupled with the fond look in his eyes tears all your defenses asunder. As you look up to meet Xiao’s uncharacteristically doting gaze, your chest twists more and more as you keep yourself from lunging in for a kiss.

“You’re such a pessimist, it’s almost funny how caring you sound,” you chuckle. “Go on, now. Shoo. It’s late.”

Before you can push him out of the door, however, Xiao catches you by surprise when he leans down to peck your lips. You stay frozen in place even as he pulls away—smiling so prettily, you can hardly believe this guy is your perpetually pissed off best friend.

“Good night.”

Unlike the last time he left you all alone in your apartment, you’re filled to the brim with an emotion you can’t quite name. It’s far from the emptiness that made a home in your heart when you thought you were in love with someone who didn’t love you back. But you’re not about to call it happiness either.

Whatever this strange feeling is, you let it sit in your chest for a while longer, and it lingers even when the memory of Xiao’s lips stops prickling against the skin of your own.

09.

On the day of your graduation, Xiao asks you to drop by his shop after the rites have concluded. You tell him that he’s self-centered as fuck, and that this is your day, so if he wants to use your body as a practice canvas again, he’s going to have to wait tomorrow.

You don’t tell him that you’re sulking because he didn’t even show up to congratulate you for surviving four gruesome years of nursing. But you suppose that someone who never went to college in the first place wouldn’t be the best at sympathizing with this particular milestone in your life.

He shows you his latest sketch when you make it to his shop the next morning—and you can’t contain the look of disbelief that colors your features when you realize what it is.

“A bouquet that’ll never wilt,” he chuckles, one finger expertly pointing out the flowers he’s drawn on the neat page. “Orchids and hydrangeas: your favorite. Violets: you press a bunch of these in books every summertime. Pink baby’s breath ‘cause you wouldn’t stop gushing about them at your sister’s wedding.”

You aren’t able to stifle the flattered giggle that spills from your lips. “Can’t believe you actually remember all that. What’s the lily of the valley doing there though?”

“Oh, this?” Xiao hums with one brow raised. “Your mom had lots of them in her old garden. Those are my favorite.”

“And, pray tell, why is your favorite flower going to be permanently tattooed on my body?”

Xiao doesn’t humor you with a verbal answer right away. Instead, he wheels his revolving seat closer to you so that he’s close enough to press your foreheads together. Your breath hitches when his mouth curves into a loving smile you’re starting to get used to seeing.

“Because you’re mine,” he says simply. “Now, are you going to tell me where you want me to ink your eternal bouquet or not?”

10.

You’re a complete sap when it comes to weddings. Everyone knows this.

It’s for that reason that none of your guests are surprised when you end up crying in the middle of exchanging vows with your fiancé. Xiao sighs before taking out a handkerchief from his front pocket, dabbing at the tears streaming down your face. For someone who comes on so tough to other people, you’re awfully sentimental.

“Sorry, sorry—” you sniffle, thanking every single god out there for the invention of waterproof mascara. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

The rest of the session proceeds swiftly. You get to kiss your best friend of more than two decades and call him your husband in front of some friends and family. The matrimonial rites were held in a private resort at the base of a mountain. Both you and Xiao wanted to preserve the intimacy of your wedding as much as you could. After all, you didn’t need all that flashy and grandiose wedding prep to prove to the world just how much you want to spend the rest of your life with Xiao.

Your thoughts stay the same even as he lays you down in the king-sized bed of the cabin you had to yourselves. He sighs in between kisses as he strips you off your wedding garbs. You’re surprised he’s taking his time with you. Xiao has been eye-fucking you since you started walking down the aisle. It was so bad that even Beidou made a few off-hand remarks about the sexual tension during the reception.

“I was thinking,” you breathe as he grinds his hips against yours, “of getting another tattoo. My last one.”

Xiao lifts his head for a moment, one brow arched. “You’re married to a tattoo artist, and you think the tattoo you’re getting after the wedding is your last one? You’re dreaming, princess.”

“Fine. Point taken.” You roll your eyes. “But anyway, I want a dragon tattoo riiiight…here.”

Your husband watches with rapt attention as you guide his hand to the spot you’re talking about—just below the collection of your favorite flowers inked above your waist is a blank stretch of skin. Xiao’s lips twitch into a fond smile as his calloused fingers graze your flesh.

“Still against having showy tatts?” he asks before pressing a soft kiss on the spot you pointed at.

“Mhmm. You see, my dad doesn’t care if I’m married and have my own life. If he sees that I have tattoos, he’s still going to murder me,” you chuckle. “So yeah, tatts are staying under my clothes until he grows old enough and forgets that he hates seeing ink on other people’s skin.”

“I’ll keep that in mind then.”

When Xiao ravishes you for the first time as your husband, your chest overflows with love for him. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their best friends by their sides for as long as you did, yet you ended up tying the knot with yours. Although the entire process was more than twenty years in the making, you suppose there’s no point in rushing anything.

After all, Xiao is as permanent in your life just as much as the ink stains on your body.

“Look,” you chuckle once Xiao is done cleaning up in the bathroom and settles down right next to you on the bed, “Kaeya sent us a postcard. He says congrats on overcoming the emotional constipation.”

“Throw that thing away,” your husband grumbles, pulling you away from the pile of postcards on the nightstand. “Why are you even keeping touch with him still?”

“So I can use him as an excuse to get you jealous, and have you fuck me rough?”

“Oh, princess. If you wanted it rough…” he starts with a sigh, rolling his neck with a smirk. You gulp, wondering if you’ve bitten off more than you can chew this time around.

“All you had to do was ask.”

⟢ end notes: it's been a while since i wrote for genshin, so i hope you liked it! thank you sm for reading ^^

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin xiao #xiao fanfic #xiao smut #xiao x reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #cryoculus

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strangernstranger · 1 year

Text

At Home Haircuts

Eddie x Fem Reader request

Summary: Turns out, Eddie isn’t very good at cutting his own hair and calls on his best friend to fix it for him. (Fluffy mutual pining.)

Inbox is open for requests!

——— “It’s bad. It’s really bad.” Eddie paced back and forth across your kitchen. The hood of his jacket was pulled snuggly over his head to hide his mistake.

“Well, how will I know if I can fix it if you won’t let me see it!?” You flung your hands up as you spoke. Eddie had called you earlier to explain his predicament. In hindsight, it was a mistake trying to cut his own hair. His over confidence had clouded his judgment. How hard can it be? He thought. He quickly realized how wrong he was in that assumption. You were the only person he trusted to fix the mess he had made and you were happy enough to oblige. Anything for your friend.

“Okay okay okay! Just…promise you won’t laugh?” Eddie bit at his thumb, sure you would shame him for what he had done. With closed eyes and a deep sigh, he pushed the hood off of his head, revealing his at-home-hack-job.

“Oh wow.” Your eyes widened at the sight, chunky gaps in Eddie’s beautiful hair.

“It’s ruined. I knew! SHIT!” Eddie panicked.

“No! It’s not ruined! It’s just…not what I expected. But, totally salvageable!” You placed your hands on your best friends shoulders to steady him. “We can fix this. We just gotta wash it first.”

“Wash it?” He questioned.

“Um yea. Cutting wavy hair while it’s dry? That was your first mistake. Now, wait here, I’ll get the stuff.”

———

Eddie sniffed at the shampoo bottle, raising a brow at it’s strawberry scent as you folded a towel over the ledge of the kitchen sink for support. Pulling a stool to the sink, you patted the seat for Eddie to sit down.

“Have a seat, big boy.” You smiled.

“I’m gonna smell like a girl.” Eddie laughed before pulling his shirt over his head, exposing his bare chest. You blinked at the sight, fumbling the shampoo bottle as you pried your eyes away. “Sorry…just didn’t wanna get my shirt wet, Y’know?” He walked to where you stood, and sat down on the stool. He lifted his curls off his shoulders as he draped his head backwards over the sink, neck resting on the towel you had prepared for him.

“Y-yea. Makes sense.” You tried to play it cool, but you were a little flustered seeing Eddie shirtless for the first time. He looked good. You eyeballed the tattoo on his chest as you checked the water’s temp. You pulled the sprayer to close, gradually saturating his hair. “How’s that? Is it too cold?” You questioned.

“Feels good.” Eddie sighed, relaxing into the warmth and the scent of your perfume as you leaned in close. You rubbed small circles over his scalp drawing a satisfied smile from your best friend.

“You really should’ve came to me first.” You lightly scolded as you lathered in the shampoo. Eddie groaned happily at the feeling.

“I know. I thought I could do it though.” He chuckled in his shame. If he knew this was the treatment he would be given, he would’ve called you first thing. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the attention. You watched the rise and fall of his chest as you rinsed your friend’s hair. You took notices of his feature like never before. You always thought he was a good looking guy but in that moment, he was beautiful. He opened his big brown eyes, resting them on you. “Thank you.” He smiled warmly which sparked something in you. You almost hated to tell him you were done. You could stare at him like that all day.

——— You two carried out idle conversation as you scissored portions of Eddie’s long hair. Blending the choppy mistakes previously made. Bits a hair fell to Eddie’s shoulder. You leaned in close, pursing your lips to blow it away. Your warm breath against his neck was enough bring a pleasant shiver.

“What do you think?” You crossed your fingers in hopes your friend would approve.

“That’s amazing! You actually fixed it. Holy shit.” Eddie shook his hair and tilted his head to the side to examine it further in the bathroom mirror.

“Maybe next time we can put a little color in it? Maybe a little red streak right here?” You dangled a stand of hair in front of Eddie’s face, tickling his nose. You laughed as he swatted it away.

“No! No way! My hair is virgin and I’m keeping it that way!”

“That’s not the only thing about you that screams virgin.” You picked up your eyebrows in a comedic expression as you mumbled your remark. Eddie narrowed his eyes, peering at you over his shoulder. You twisted his face back to the mirror. “Hold still, I missed a piece.”

“Bet I’ve pulled more than you.” He scoffed.

“Y’know, Munson…I don’t doubt that a single bit.”

“Hold on…are you calling me a slut or are you-? You’re a virgin aren’t you!?” He spun around in the chair to face you directly.

“No, no! Not a virgin…just don’t have very many notches in my bed post. That’s all.” You shrugged coyly before grabbing his face once again to turn him around. You returned to snipping at his mop of hair.

“So what’s your magic number then?” Eddie was all ears. You had never talked about your sex life. He couldn’t help but be curious.

“Two.”

“Just two?”

“Only two.” You nodded. “BUT they were boyfriends so sex was…I guess you can say consistent?” To Eddie’s surprise, your little comment sparked something in him he didn’t expect. His mind filled in the gaps where details lacked. Images of you, mouth opened and back arched flooded his head. He watched your reflection in the mirror as you ran your hands through his hair. Your touch was so soft and attentive. He wondered how it felt on bare skin. Or how you liked to be touched. Eddie blinked hard at his reflection to bring himself out of the trance. He felt guilty for thinking of you in such a way. After all, you were his best friend. But he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of you before. “What about you?” You questioned. “You keep a little black book of names?”

“Noo. It’s four. Four people. But they were all hookups or short term things. Y’know, girls mad at their boyfriends or looking to piss off daddy. Nothing meaningful.”

“Hey, still counts though!” You shrugged.

“Yea, but I want more than a one night stand…or 5th period in the janitor’s closet.”

“EDDIE YOU DIDNT.” You gasped in amusement.

“I did.” He grinned devilishly. “Heather Mills. But that was it for us. I tried talking to her after that. Asked her out. Instead she ditched me for Billy Hargrove. I guess she wanted a ‘bad boy’ but realized I’m just some freak who plays fantasy games.” Eddie smiled half heartedly, trying to play off the lingering sting of the other girl’s actions. You rested your chin on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You really liked her didn’t you?”

“No…I just liked the idea of having someone. Anyone.” That wasn’t entirely the true. He wanted you. He had for a while but lacked the courage to tell you.

“Eddie, any girl would be lucky to be your girlfriend. Heather was out of her mind passing on you like that.” You hugged his neck, resting your cheek to his as you looked at your reflections. “And if she slept with Billy, she probably has herpes now. Be glad you got there first.” Eddie laughed before lifting his hand to tussle the hair at the back of your head

“You always know just what to say…..that’s why you’re perfect.” The words didn’t come from a place of confidence. Rather a lack of a filter. Your eyes grew wide as you waited for the moment to be offset by a joke that never came. “Shit…did I- was that-?”

“Y-You think I’m perfect.” You stared at your friend stunned in disbelief.

“Well…yea. You’re smart, funny…hot as hell. You-” Eddie’s admission was cut short. Before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips into his, cupping his face in your hands. His hand hesitated momentarily before sliding into your hair. He deepened the kiss, desperately moving closer. You pulled away with a nervous laugh. Your cheeks blossoming into a rosy hue as Eddie’s dimples deepened with his smile. “Sooo, do I owe you for that or just the haircut?” He breathed a laugh as you rolled your eyes.

“Take me out and we’ll call it even?”

“…like a date?” Eddie’s eyes lit up at the notion. You grinned sheepishly with a nod. Almost on instinct, he pulled you in for another desperate kiss. You smiled against his lips. He slipped away just enough to speak. “I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go, sweetheart.”

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson request #eddie munson x reader #eddie Munson imagine #eddie munson headcanons

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hannahmanderr · 10 months

Text

A fight with Spectra leaves both Fenton and Phantom hurting in more ways than one.

They'll make it up to each other. They always do. (Pitch Pearl)

Rated: Teen

For @scarletsaphire and @duchi-nesten

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“Wow, Spectra.” Phantom grunted as he dodged a swipe from the shadow ghost. “I never would’ve pegged you for the swimming type. Last time I took a shadow like you for a dip, they got the one way ticket to the Amity sewer system.”

Spectra tutted. “A girl’s allowed to have fun every now and then, Danny!”

“And by fun, you mean trying to stage a little ‘accident’ for the first gym class of the morning?”

“See, you get it! A little tampering here and there is all it takes to give a couple of kids a shocker of a morning wake-up call!” She dissolved into a dark mist as Phantom made a dive for her, reforming after he passed through her harmlessly.

But he’d been expecting that. He doubled over backwards, arching his back into the flip, and snapped into a quick roll to make another pass at her.

Apparently, she had been expecting that too. She bared her claws and swung them in a wide arc, forcing him to twist out of the way to try to avoid them. The claws thankfully missed his chest, but she managed to snag his arm and rip four jagged cuts into his arm, almost like mini versions of the gash she’d managed to give him earlier.

“Gah!” Phantom clapped a hand to the torn jumpsuit. “Jeez, have you ever heard of nail clippers?”

Spectra grinned wickedly and made another lunge for him. “Ha! I’ve spent hours making sure my manicure is… on point.”

He barely had time to pull his hand away and throw up a green shield, deflecting her blow. Ectoplasm dripped from his glove to the tile and left tiny little glowing pinpricks on the dark floor. Kind of like stars.

Focus. Not the time to be thinking about that.

“Hey, the puns are my thing, alright? At least let me have that.” Flames of cold green energy burst to life around his hand, and he shot off a quick succession of blasts, hoping at least one would hit.

He’d have taken the time to aim if he hadn’t already gotten his head smashed into the wall twice during this fight. Either that, or his slightly fuzzy vision indicated he was having a sudden need of contact lenses, but the throbbing at the back of his skull seemed to say otherwise.

So maybe he had a tiny little baby concussion. No big deal.

Only one of the blasts hit true, but it did little to deter Spectra. She snarled and called up her own purple ecto-energy. “And why should I let you?”A flick of her wrist warped the energy into a lasso. “You already have so much, don’t you?”

The lasso came flying at him. He darted to the left only to be met by the wall of bleachers, sitting halfway folded up. Figured. The janitor must’ve gotten lazy after the swim meet earlier.

Either way, it added a tally to his growing count of blows to the head today. He gripped his head tightly and tried to funnel ice energy into his hands to try and numb the pain a little, maybe even help put a block to any swelling, but all it did was open a window for the lasso to close around his ankle. A yelp escaped his throat as Spectra yanked him towards her.

“I mean think about it! You’ve got the powers, the looks, the personality…” Each word was punctuated by a sharp tug on the rope. “What more does a boy need, hmm?” She paused in fake contemplation. “Oh, wait! I might know!”

“Not! Listening!” He pulled fruitlessly at his leg to try and free it before giving up and shooting at the rope with an ecto-blast. His energy wasn’t quite strong enough to break hers. Of course it wasn’t. Just his luck. When had her energy gotten so strong anyway?

“How about a family who loves him? I don’t think you have one of those now, do you?”

“I said I’m not listening!” he shouted, though the weight of her parasitic words settling into his chest seemed to indicate otherwise.

Ice. Surely ice would work. Phantom barely needed a thought to call it into his hands and coat the energy rope with a thick layer. He snapped it like a toothpick and immediately whirled around to fire off two blasts of ice as soon as his leg was free. They both missed, instead catching some of the swimmer’s blocks along the edge of the pool.

“Poor little Danny,” she cooed condescendingly, apparently unfazed by his escape. She shot off a couple of blasts of her own before disappearing in a whirl of shadow

Before he could figure out where she’d gone, she dug her claws into his shoulders. A whimper of pain squeezed past his lips as the fabric of his suit tore again, exposing his bare skin to her razor sharp claws.

“Maybe I should feel sorry for you after all! You’ve got the adoration of all these humans, yet you’ll never truly fit in with them. Of course, you could just stick to the Ghost Zone, but you’ve managed to turn everyone there against you! Well now, that really is a sticky predicament! Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let you have your precious puns after all.”

The toxicity in her words began to make him dizzy and lethargic, especially now that she had a physical hold on him. Her claws dug deeper and deeper into his shoulders. Why were her words getting to him this easy? It’s not like he didn’t know how to handle himself around her.

He shook his head and jerked half-heartedly, but that only succeeded in cutting himself open on her claws even more. Her venom wasn’t physical, sure, but it didn’t stop it from hurting as it penetrated him down to his very core.

“Stop it,” he panted, “I’m… you can’t get to me like that.”

Except she absolutely could, and she knew it just as well as he did.

“I want to help you, Danny, I really do.” She leaned her head down close enough that he could feel her lips graze his ear. He recoiled from the touch. “All you have to do is let me. I can take it all away, you just have to let me get in you to take it out. So simple… and then you won’t feel a thing. I promise.”

His struggles weakened as the words drove themselves into his core.

She was right. It would be so much easier, wouldn’t it? To just give in?

No.

Just a little moment of selfishness. That’s all it would take. No more pain. No more heartbreak.

Fight it.

The town wouldn’t be completely unprotected. Valerie could handle it. And who knew? Maybe the ghosts wouldn’t attack it so much without him.

Fight it!

And if the ghosts quit attacking, then that would just solve the problem. A win-win. Everyone wouldn’t have to deal with the ghosts, and he wouldn’t have to deal with everything.

Fight it, Phantom!

The familiar voice echoed in his ears, trying to be heard over the static of Spectra’s spell.

If he focused, it was as though he could hear it right beside him.

A single ray of light, breaking through the heavy gloom of his own desolation and guilt.

Phantom!

So close…

Something jostled his shoulders.

“Godda- oh my God, please don’t…”

Strange. That voice really did sound close.

“I swear, Phantom, if you don’t snap out of it in the next ten seconds, I’ll… I’ll… oh, damn it…”

Slowly, Phantom peeled his eyes open. When had he closed them?

His core throbbed painfully. Like someone had taken a dagger to it. A dagger made of misery-inducing lies, anyway.

“Oh my God, finally!” Warm hands moved from their position on either side of his head to clasp onto his shoulders. “Don’t you dare do that again, you - you… Oh my God…”

“Wha…?” He groaned and brought a hand up to his head, ignoring the sting of his wounds rubbing up against the hands. As his vision cleared, a dark head of hair and bright blue eyes came into focus. Off to the side, he could see a shadowy, glowing heap lying a few yards away, smoke drifting up from it.

He struggled to sit up. “Jeez, Fenton, did you really shoot her?”

“Wow, okay, you don’t have to sound so surprised. What was I supposed to do, just stand there and let her waste you?”

“You… you shouldn’t be here.” If the pool could stop spinning at a million miles an hour, that would be nice. “I had it handled.”

Fenton scoffed, though his breath still shook. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Being pinned down by a literal soul-sucking she-demon is definitely what most people would consider having it ‘handled’.”

Phantom took the opportunity to take gauge of his surroundings. He had no clue when he’d ended up on the floor of the pool room, but the soreness in his back definitely gave him the impression that he’d been dropped. Fenton must have dragged him here to prop him up against the bleachers. Ice still covered the swimmer’s blocks and some of the walls were singed from wayward ecto-blasts.

And then there, squatting in front of him, red-faced and panting for breath, was Fenton. He kept his arms placed on either side of Phantom’s head and leaned in oh so close, close enough that his warm breath tickled Phantom’s nose and chin and made him swallow thickly.

It took every ounce of self-control he could muster to push past that train of thought. Not the time for that. “I was just, you know… letting her think she had the upper hand.”

Fenton rolled his eyes. A little more of the tension relaxed from his shoulders. “Keep telling yourself that, ghost boy. Whatever floats your boat. But let it be known that today, I had to save your sorry butt for once.”

“I refuse to feed your fantasies about being my knight in shining armor any more than I already have.”

That made Fenton fall back onto his bottom with a thud and the red blush creep up to the tips of his ears. “Well maybe if you quit running into things alone for once, I wouldn't ha-”

A flash of movement caught Phantom’s eye.

It was the only warning he got. There was not a second to spare to alert Fenton; he simply threw his body into the human’s and tackled him to the ground.

“Ow! What the fu-”

Spectra went whizzing over their heads, missing the top of Phantom’s head by inches.

It was a scramble of limbs as the two boys struggled to untangle themselves from one another. Phantom barely managed to pull his bleeding arm in to miss a blast of purple ectoplasm. Still with half-blurred vision, he threw out his good hand, and a shield cascaded over the two of them.

“Why didn’t you get her in the Thermos, you idiot?” Phantom demanded as he crawled over to where Fenton laid.

Fenton rolled onto his back with a groan. “Excuse me for wanting to make sure you weren’t stuck in whatever the hell funk she was trying to put you into!”

Spectra’s energy slammed into the shield like a brick wall, nearly sending Phantom toppling again. His core still panged with the ache of the aftereffects of Spectra’s influence, and it fluttered weakly in his chest. A second strong blast struck him right down to the core and shattered the shield.

Fenton cursed again and began to search blindly for his weapon as Phantom took to the air again, ignoring the way his core and arm and shoulders throbbed. He fired off a quick succession of blasts himself and made a beeline for the shadow demon.

Much to his dismay (but not his surprise), she twirled around the attacks, and they sailed right by her as she cackled in delight. “Aw, looks like I really caught you boys off your game tonight!”

“I’m working with a concussion here,” Phantom growled, “cut me some slack.” He made a lunge for her as she still had her focus turned on Fenton, but this time he pulled up and out of the dive at the last second and allowed his tail to reform into legs. His foot connected with the underside of her jaw, sending her crashing into the ceiling.

“You have a concussion?” Fenton shouted from the ground. He’d found the blaster and was attempting to shove the cartridge back into it. “And you’re still at this?”

“Not to sound repetitive, but excuse me for making sure she doesn’t electrify the pool to kill a couple kids in the morning!”

Fenton glanced up to where Spectra was pressed against the ceiling, rubbing the spot where Phantom had kicked her. “Really? Electrifying the pool? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” she said. She zipped downwards, but to Phantom’s surprise, she diverted away from the two of them and made a mad dash for the live wires she’d been tampering with, lying towards one corner of the pool.

He wasn’t sure what she was up to, but he chased after her anyway. “I’m getting real tired of this game, you know!” he said as his core gave another painful pang. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold out. Her spell had really done a number on him this time.

Fenton finally managed to fit the cartridge back into his blaster, and he wasted no time raising it to take aim at Spectra. He fired one, two, three back-to-back shots, and Phantom prayed to the Ancients that the human’s aim would hold truer than his own.

Two of the blasts clipped her tail, but it was enough to make her falter and hiss. Phantom plowed into her at full speed and tackled her into the floor.

“Now how does that feel?” he asked with an impish grin.

“It’ll feel better when I’m pounding your skull in with an anvil,” she said with a snarl. “But don’t worry, I’m just warming up.”

It was his turn to falter (had she really just punned at him again?), and though he tried to recover quickly, it was long enough time for Spectra to take back the advantage. Too late, he realized the floor around them had begun to steam and the shadowy flesh (mist? Goo? It was kind of hard to tell with shadow ghosts) grew burning hot under his hands. It surprised him enough to cause him to yelp and push himself off of her, his core instinctively generating more of his cold energy to counteract the effects.

She took advantage of the opportunity to fly off again, Fenton’s blaster shots following right behind. Phantom shook his head - big mistake apparently, what with the state of his head at the moment - and took off after her again as well. Tag was really starting to wear him out.

This time, she managed to reach the wires before he reached her, and she wasted no time dragging them into the water. “Ah ha! See? Even with two of you around, I still get what I want!”

“You do realize we’ll just take them out once we get you back inside the Zone, right?” Fenton asked. He squeezed the trigger of his blaster again, but this time, only a few sad sparks puttered out the end.

“Oh my God, do not tell me you brought a dead gun to a fight!” Phantom shouted. He swiped at the wires, trying to pick them up off of the floor, but Spectra, in her madness, grabbed at him furiously in an attempt to get him to stop. Her claws dug deep across the backs of his shoulder blades as he tried to evade her.

That was definitely enough to elicit a curse out of the young ghost. Reflex caused him to try and put a hand up to the injury, but he couldn’t twist his arms or his torso right to reach it well enough.

Spectra didn’t waste any time before lobbing an enormous ball of her ecto-energy at him, and in his distraction, he didn’t notice it until it was too late. Once again, he was sent sprawling into the general direction of the bleachers.

“Phantom!” The shout came from Fenton’s general direction, but his head was swimming too much to be able to see him properly. With a groan, he pressed his hands to his temples again, trying to feed as much cold energy into them as possible. Anything to stop the throbbing and the spinning at this point.

A strangled sort of yelp snapped him out of it, and he looked up to see Spectra charging at Fenton, who’d begun to try and swing the strap of the Thermos off of his shoulder to use it. Phantom didn’t even have the chance to react before she swiped a hand up Fenton’s chest, raking into his skin and leaving four glistening red stripes, visible underneath the ribbons of his t-shirt.

Fenton’s cry of pain stabbed Phantom right in the core, and as he staggered to his feet to rush to his aid, Spectra fastened her hand around the collar of Fenton’s shirt and pulled him up into the air. She dragged him like a rag doll, only stopping to hover some 15 feet above the surface of the pool, near the ceiling.

Ecto-energy was already pooling in his hands in spite of the ache in his core and head, but she waggled a finger from her free hand at him. “Ah, ah, ah! I wouldn’t shoot if I were you! You wouldn’t want me to lose my grip on your little human now, would you?”

“Don’t listen to her!” Fenton shouted, struggling in her grasp even as Phantom froze in place, remembering the wires still live and still dangling in the water of the pool.

His mind raced, working desperately against the agony of his rapidly accumulating head injuries. He could just try and fly right at her, but she’d still probably drop Fenton, and he didn’t think he could bank fast enough to try and catch him before he hit the water. Maybe he could try and freeze the pool over, but again, she’d drop him the minute he made a move, and with his core sputtering like it was, he didn’t know if he could get a thick enough layer on fast enough to keep Fenton from crashing through and plummeting into the water anyway.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands behind his back. Show her he wasn’t about to try anything funny. He couldn’t think straight enough to do much else. “You… you win, just - just put him down, safely, alright?”

“Are you nuts?” Fenton screeched. “What the hell are you thinking? She’ll just drop me anyway!”

“You know, Danny, he does have a point,” she said, stroking her chin. “After all, your misery is just delectable. Why not sweeten it a little more by making sure your precious boy toy has a little accident of his own?”

The tips of Phantom’s ears burned cold. Any other day, he would’ve shot back with some clever quip that no, Fenton was not his “boy toy,” but the threat to Fenton like that…

“Please…” he whispered. He knew how pathetic he must’ve looked. If anyone else in the Zone saw him they’d have a field day. Probably end up on the cover of that stupid underground tabloid allegedly run by Kitty. “I won’t - I’ll… I’ll do whatev-”

“Just take the damn shot, Phantom!” Fenton yelled. His shirt began to tear even more where Spectra had her grip on it.

“Yes, Danny, take the shot,” Spectra purred. “There’s really no way out of this, you know. Either way, I get what I want. At least if you shoot me, you can say you went down swinging instead of lying down and taking it like a worthless dog.”

The words bit into his ears and embedded themselves in his core. No, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, but as much as he fought, he couldn’t deny that she had a point… If his head would just stop spinning he’d think his way through this, he’d come up with an idea to save Fenton, but he could barely focus on keeping his lunch in his stomach.

On the edge of a full-out panic attack, he didn’t even think as he looked up and found Fenton’s fierce blue eyes. Their gazes met, and even from the distance…

Phantom wasn’t quite sure how it happened, or even why it happened. Maybe it was a spontaneous ghost power. Maybe he was just imagining it. Maybe he still remembered how his soul once twined together with Fenton’s, before they split, and maybe even after they split, a little piece of each of their souls stayed with the other and bound them closer than they had ever been, even when they had been one person.

Whatever it was, he didn’t know, but the moment he met Fenton’s eyes, he could see.

Fenton trusted him. With every fiber of his being and every beat of his wholly human heart, he trusted him.

Do it.

So he did.

In one motion, he brought his hands back out in front of him and shot a single beam of ecto-energy at Spectra. Without waiting to see if it hit or how long it took her to drop Fenton, he darted forward, flying out over the electrified pool.

He caught a glimpse of Fenton’s free fall just ahead of him, and he poured on the speed. Just…

… a little…

… closer…

Phantom grunted and faltered as Fenton landed in his outstretched arms, nearly dragging them both into the pool. He kept his forward movement and held onto the human for dear life (quite literally, apparently) as Fenton fumbled with the strap of the Thermos.

Above them, Spectra screamed furiously. Phantom could feel the intense heat of her anger flare bright and start speeding towards the two of them.

But Fenton was already on it. He twisted in Phantom’s arms and aimed the Thermos at her, and in a matter of seconds, she had been secured inside.

It was only after Spectra had been caught and they were safely above dry ground that Phantom slowed his flight. Only then did he notice just how fast his core was vibrating and the adrenaline pulsing through his body that he could only attribute to his ghostliness. The whole thing had taken mere seconds, but to him, each second had felt like an eternity.

Fenton had one arm wrapped in a death grip around his shoulders and the other folding the Thermos in between their stomachs. In this position, Phantom could feel the flutter of Fenton’s heart and just how shallow his breaths were. Black hair brushed against his jaw, but he couldn’t be bothered to move it out of the way.

He just wanted to hold him tight to him and never let him go.

Fenton turned his head to look up at Phantom, the hairs tickling his skin as they dragged across his chin. That smarmy little jerk had the gall to grin up at him, still breathless, and say, “Thanks for letting me drop by on such short notice.”

Phantom groaned and shook his head, which just made Fenton burst out laughing.

He flew them over to where the wires had been put into the pool. Carefully, making sure to mind the human still clinging to him, he grabbed them at the dry bits and lifted them out of the water. A little bit of intangibility made sure they were free and clear of any dripping.

“I, uh, don’t suppose you know how we turn these off?” he asked. Now that the fight had ended, his voice echoed throughout the large room, just reemphasizing how eerily quiet it had become.

Fenton shrugged. “Fuse box? Where’d she even get them anyway?”

“I don’t know.” He opted to lay them out on the tile, away from the water and away from the metal bleachers. He could figure it out in a bit. For right now…

A warmth on his stomach drew his attention. “Ancients, Fenton, what were you thinking?”

Fenton looked down at his tattered shirt and the blood seeping onto it and Phantom’s jumpsuit. “Tis but a flesh wound,” he said with a little laugh.

“Spectra rips into you like wet toilet paper and all you can do is quote Monty Python at me?”

“It’s not like you’re doing much better!” Blue eyes trailed to the green-stained tears in his jumpsuit.

Phantom bit his lip. The urge to scold the human and fuss over him was nearly overwhelming, but he knew Fenton would throw a fit if he ignored his own injuries. “Okay, okay here.”

He touched down beside the pool and set Fenton down as gently as he could. Fenton sprawled out over the tile with a sigh. A whine stirred in Phantom’s chest as the familiar weight and warmth left him, and it took every ounce of his self-restraint to choke it back and keep himself from latching on to him.

Instead, with a swallow, he knelt beside the human and carefully pushed the ribbons of t-shirt fabric out of the way. The cuts in Fenton’s chest weren’t horribly deep, but they continued to ooze blood and stain the shirt.

The hand he placed next to the wounds was feather-light. “I can’t believe she got you like that…”

Fenton laughed hollowly. “And I can’t believe she ruined this shirt. Sam will never buy me another concert t-shirt ever again if I keep getting them ruined.”

The joke fell on deaf ears. An idea was blooming in Phantom’s head, he just didn’t know…

“May I?” he asked, pointing to the cuts.

“... You don’t have to ask permission. It’s not anywhere your hands haven’t already been, you know?”

Oh, Ancients. His cheeks burned bright enough green to cast the barest hint of a glow on Fenton’s face. The human snickered at his reaction. “Wow. I guess you can say I really know how to turn you on, huh?”

If possible, the glow brightened. “Just shut up and let me try this,” he muttered grumpily.

He set his jaw and placed a gentle hand over the bleeding wounds. Fenton let out a quiet hiss as the glove made contact with the open flesh, and Phantom couldn’t hide his own wince upon hearing it.

It’s okay. Focus. He breathed in deeply - a habit leftover from when they had been one what seemed like forever ago - and drew cold energy from his core. Lessons from Frostbite echoed in his ears as he zeroed in on the energy, trying to carefully twist it just so…

Fenton gasped when the hand began to glow a pale blue, radiating a pleasantly cool energy. Phantom felt him lean into the touch ever so slightly.

“That’s nice,” the human whispered. He closed his eyes and let his head tip backwards.

Phantom ignored him solely out of a need to concentrate. It was a constant, precise work, drawing up the energy, carefully reshaping it, channeling it up and out of his arm, not too slow but not too fast, either.

The two of them sat there in comfortable silence, their faces lit only by the glow of Phantom’s hand, the underwater lamps lighting up the pool, and the two lone emergency fluorescents hanging overhead. Fenton’s even breaths and the hum of the pool filter were the only audible sounds.

It was nearly ten minutes before Phantom pulled his hand away abruptly and fell to the side, barely managing to catch himself before his head smacked into the floor yet again.

Fenton’s eyes flew open at the sudden disappearance of the ghost’s cool touch. “What hap- oh.” He looked down at himself, where newly mended skin replaced the wounds. The only indication that there had been an injury in the first place was the pinkish shade of scabbing skin, almost like a sunburn.

A grin blossomed on Fenton’s face. “No way, you can do that? That’s so cool! How long - whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, what happened? Are you okay?”

If the unbearable pounding of his head and core and everything weren’t enough to prove that. “Jus’ a little tired,” Phantom mumbled. “Probably… used too much energy at once…”

“No shit you did! Like seriously? You take that big of a blow from Spectra and then try and heal me? What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m fine.” He grunted as he pushed himself up a little more. “I jus’... need a sec. Just a sec…”

Except he overcompensated while trying to prop himself up. A new wave of dizziness washed over him, and he began to topple the other way.

Fenton cursed again as he scrambled to grab Phantom and shove himself in between the ghost and the tile. “You’re such an idiot,” he said even as he shifted their bodies so Phantom’s back leaned against his arm. “And don’t you dare say anything about being my idiot or whatever.”

“Wasn’t going to.” Phantom sighed and slumped even further against Fenton. The cuts on his back screamed at the friction, and he knew he was probably just staining Fenton’s shirt even more, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

Screw the circumstances. This was nice. Just existing together like this.

After a moment, he felt Fenton let his head lean against the top of his own. “Seriously though,” he said, wrapping his pinky around Phantom’s. “Why would you do that? It could have waited, it wasn’t even that bad.”

Phantom exhaled. If Fenton was seriously expecting to have this conversation right now, he was about to be sorely disappointed. “I was just making sure.” The words sounded flimsy even to him.

“Yeah, sure. Definitely not you being an overprotective neurotic like you are.”

The frustration behind Fenton’s words surprised him. It… definitely hadn’t been the response he’d been expecting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it’s supposed to mean?” Fenton huffed. “You always do this! Act like some sort of martyr or something when it’s totally unnecessary. All you’re gonna do is end up screwing yourself over!”

Okay. Apparently this conversation really was happening now. “Is it so wrong to try and help? Because I know you’d do the exact same thing if you could. And you still try anyway.”

“Did I say it was wrong to try and help? You know I’m not gonna stop you from helping out, especially ‘cause duh, I want to help out too, but no, I’m talking about stuff like this.” Phantom craned his neck around to see Fenton gesturing at his torso. “The extra stuff that’s more than just helping.”

Ancients, how could he explain this without getting himself into hot water? “I just… get worried…”

Fenton scoffed. “Worried? About a few little cuts? You know for a fact we - I’ve taken harder stuff than that. So why freak out when clearly you’re the one that needs the healing?”

“It’s not the cuts!” Phantom said before thinking. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid, this sort of argument, especially when he knew his mouth was going to get ahead of himself and make him regret it. The exact kind of conversation he should be avoiding while nursing a weakened core and a concussion. “I just… it’s complicated, okay? Look, can we… can we maybe just, not do this right now?”

A silence fell over the two, only broken when Fenton lifted his head and leaned forward to get a better look at Phantom’s face. “Do you… are you, like… hiding something?” he asked quietly.

The hesitation and tension in the question was palpable in more ways than one, at least to Phantom. It left a slightly spicy taste in his mouth and made his own core seize up. “N- why would I be hiding something?”

Fenton fingered a rip in his jeans. “I dunno, you just seem… more nervous, I guess? And I just - I don’t know, I’m just worried, like… do you… trust me?”

“What?” That sent a jolt through Phantom’s core. He sat straight up, ignoring the surge of pain that accompanied it, and turned to face Fenton head on. “Why wouldn’t I trust you?”

“You don’t have to tell me it’s dumb, alright? I already know it.” Fenton refused to meet his eyes, instead pointedly fixating on that little rip. “I’m just - argh, you’re gonna think it’s so stupid!”

Phantom hesitated before gently grabbing the human’s fretting hand. “Look, I promise, I trust you, okay? I didn’t realize… I’m sorry if I did something to make you think…”

“Ugh, that’s the problem, you didn’t do anything!” Fenton shouted in exasperation. He hugged his knees into his chest, but allowed Phantom to keep holding his hand. “It’s just me being stupid, alright? Just… forget I said anything.”

Another silence fell between them. Phantom watched him closely. The emotions coming from Fenton were growing increasingly complex and frustrated, and it didn’t help matters that Phantom grew frustrated that he couldn’t properly read them. Whatever was going through Fenton’s mind, it ran deep.

He took in a shaky breath, as unnecessary as it was. They were clearly both holding back from each other, and they were clearly both nervous about how the other would react. If Jazz were here, she’d be scolding them for repressing such strong emotions, especially from one another. She’d go on a whole girly tirade about the importance of openness and honesty in relationships.

To be fair, she generally knew what she was talking about when it came to this stuff.

So maybe he should try and listen.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he blurted, “I was scared, alright?”

There. The proverbial olive branch.

One of them would’ve had to bite the bullet eventually.

Fenton jerked his head up. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting that. “Scared of what? The cuts?”

“No, not - not that.” Now it was his turn to avoid the other’s eyes. “I… seeing her grab you like that, and then if she’d dropped you, you would’ve fallen in and…”

“But you caught me. It worked out okay.”

“And what if it didn’t?” His core began to pound harder. “What if she’d let you go and - and you fell, and I didn’t get there in time?”

Their gazes met. Phantom found himself wanting both to rip his eyes away and lose himself in Fenton’s pretty blue eyes at the same time.

He hated the feeling.

Finally, Fenton sighed. “... You wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“Okay, maybe you thought that, but not me! I couldn’t even think straight because of this stupid concussion and I didn’t know what to do, so what do you expect? Am I not supposed to be scared?”

“Oh my God, no one said you couldn’t be scared, alright?” Fenton uncurled himself and swung his knees underneath him to sit on his heels. “Like duh! Of course you’re gonna be scared, but that’s not a reason to pop off and try and get yourself hurt just to save me a couple of scratches!”

Phantom sat up straight. “You never know if those ‘scratches’ are gonna be the tipping point! If you’re hurt and I can do something about it, then why shouldn’t I?”

“Because like it or not, you can’t!” Fenton shouted. The words hit Phantom harder than any hit he’d taken from Spectra.

And Fenton wasn’t done either. “You’re not perfect, alright? You’re just… you’re not gonna be! You can try to do everything you can and bend over backwards to make things perfectly okay for everyone else, but at some point, it’s not gonna work! And then what? How - how is you getting yourself hurt making everything okay?”

“I don’t care if I get myself hurt!” Phantom snapped. The words were getting ahead of him again, and as much as he knew he would regret it, he couldn’t bring it upon himself to try and contain them. “Do you know how hurt I would be if I lost you?”

“Of course I do, you idiot, I lo-” Fenton cut himself off as his entire face flushed red.

The pounding of Phantom’s core echoed in his ears, and a strange thrill ran through him.

Say it.

Please, I need to hear you say it.

Fenton’s eyes squeezed shut. “I… I care about you… a lot, okay? Like, more than I’ve ever really cared about most people. You… you talk so much about being scared for me, and not knowing what you would do if you lost me, but… haven’t you thought about what I would do if I lost you?”

Phantom froze. The thought had always been there, of course, somewhere in the back of his mind, but…

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Fenton didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You don’t have to apologize, I…” He sighed heavily. “I know you’re just trying to look out for me, and I swear, I appreciate it. It’s… It feels nice, having someone care about me that much, but at the same time, it’s like I hate it, ‘cause - ‘cause it hurts me to see you always throwing yourself into these sorts of situations and just getting yourself more hurt when you don’t need to be and all that stuff.”

Phantom didn’t know how to respond to that.

He sat and watched the refracted light from the pool dance across Fenton’s face as the human stared somewhere across to the other side of the pool. That sort of an outburst… that wasn’t like him. Granted, neither of them ever really enjoyed talking about feelings-with-an-F, but still.

Fenton’s sudden movement caught his attention. “Where are you going?”

The human stood and brushed off his jeans. “You’re still bleeding,” he said, as if that explained everything. “If you get to patch me up, then I get to patch you up.” Without waiting for Phantom to respond, he walked over to the boys’ locker room door and disappeared behind it.

Phantom watched the door swing shut in silence. A certain brusqueness lingered in the air, making his nose itch.

That could’ve gone better.

But what was he supposed to say? His own feelings were… complicated at best. On one hand, it made his core sing hearing Fenton talk about how much he liked having him worry about him like he did.

Yet on the other, it shattered him to hear the pain and anxiety behind Fenton’s words.

He shifted to let his feet dangle off the edge of the pool and began stirring the water absently with the toe of his boot. At least I made sure the water’s fine, he thought to himself with a grim sort of smile.

Wish I could say the same for him.

Fenton returned a minute later with the first aid kit from his locker in hand, wearing his gym shirt. He wasted no time in kneeling beside Phantom and popping open the lid to grab the antiseptic wipes and gauze.

“What did you do with the old shirt?” the ghost asked quietly.

Fenton shrugged. “Tossed it. What else would I have done?”

“I don’t know. I figured you’d be worried about someone seeing it.”

“Nah. No one ever looks in the trash in that bathroom. That’s like, asking to be scarred for life. Unzip your suit for me, will you?”

Phantom obliged and shrugged his arms out enough for Fenton to wipe at the claw marks. He hissed at the sting, and he didn’t miss how the human’s movements faltered just the slightest bit. Still, he pressed on, gently cleaning away the ectoplasm.

Phantom tried to temper his blush. He was never this tender when taking care of his own wounds.

The tension in the silence began to rub at him. “You… how long have you been wanting to say that?” he whispered, not even bothering to refer to what “that” was.

The breath from Fenton’s long sigh warmed his bare skin. “It’s not exactly like… something I’ve been planning on saying or whatever, it just… came out.”

There was some sort of joke in there somewhere, but now probably wasn’t the best time.

Instead, Phantom cleared his throat. “You know I’ve never meant to hurt you, right?”

“Of course I know that.” Fenton tore open a packet of gauze and pressed it against the cuts on his arm. “Look, this… we’re not in some sitcom, alright? You don’t have to get all sappy on me or whatever. Just… let me take care of your stupid butt.”

Holding back one joke had been hard enough, but holding back a second was impossible. “Says the guy who couldn’t keep his hands off my ‘stupid butt’ a few nights ago.”

Fenton made an odd sort of choking sound, and Phantom couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “I take it all back,” the human grumbled as he taped down the gauze. “You’re the biggest jerk of them all.”

“Only for you.”

Another packet of gauze was torn open and taped to his shoulder before either of them spoke again. “Alright look, I promise I won’t get super sappy on you okay?” Phantom said. He scratched absently at the drain ringing around the pool. “But like… I also don’t want to go on hurting you.”

Fenton sighed again. “Seriously, you don’t ne-”

“No, I do. Even if it’s just for me.” He exhaled shakily. “You… you know I can’t just like, stop jumping in to help and stuff, and you’re right, maybe I do overreact a bit -”

“A bit?” Fenton asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Whatever. I overreact, okay? Happy?”

“Well… it’s at least nice to hear it come out of your own mouth,” Fenton admitted as he pressed a third gauze pad to his other shoulder. “But go on. Since you’re so determined to say this, apparently.”

Phantom closed his eyes as his chest tensed. “I was just gonna say I… I can try and be better about it. Like I can’t promise I won’t get in too far over my head, but… I can try. For you. So you don’t have to worry so much.”

Only the gash on his back remained open. Fenton trailed a gentle finger around the torn skin, leaving the barest traces of warmth in his wake. Phantom swallowed as he realized just how desperately he wanted to feel the full weight of the human’s warmth around him.

Finally, Fenton grabbed one last gauze pad. “You realize that means you can’t flip out on me if I get a papercut, right?”

“What? When have I ever done that?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy’s lips tick upward. “Kidding,” Fenton said with the tiniest laugh. “Just giving you a hard time.” He smoothed the last piece of tape in place and helped work the suit back around Phantom’s shoulders.

“Right,” Phantom grumbled as he zipped the suit back up. “Pick on the guy with a concussion. Hilarious.”

“Eh, consider it payback for being so stupid in the first place.”

“What, like having my pride ruined isn’t punishment enough?”

A lump formed in Phantom’s throat as Fenton leaned in close, the black and white of their bangs intermingling with each other. If he needed to breathe, surely he’d be so dizzy from how quickly and how shallow his breaths had become and how violently his stomach and core fluttered. The heat from Fenton’s breath warmed his flushed cheeks.

Ancients, this wasn’t anything new. They’d been this close - or even closer - too many times to count at this point.

So why did he feel like a kid about to try to kiss their crush behind the school playground?

Right when he didn’t think he could hold out any longer before grabbing Fenton and closing the distance between them, the human broke out into a wide, devilish grin.

“Nope. Not enough.”

Phantom blinked as Fenton laughed and stood up, practically skipping away in glee.

Of course he would. That asshole.

Fenton’s giddy laugh echoed throughout the room as Phantom glared after him with a frown. A shimmer caught his eye, and he turned to look at the rippling surface of the pool.

A wicked grin - the perfect mirror of Fenton’s - grew on his face.

Two could play at that game.

The throbbing pain of his head was a thing of the past as he lifted into the air and dashed after the human. Fenton was too lost in his amusement to even notice Phantom until it was too late and he had been plucked into the air.

“Not fair! Let me go!” he shouted, kicking at the ghost in protest.

Now it was Phantom’s turn to laugh. He dragged Fenton out over the pool. “Let you go? Are you sure you want me to do that?”

Fenton must not have noticed their position. “I swear, if you don’t let me go…”

Phantom shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself,” he said before dropping Fenton unceremoniously into the pool with an enormous splash.

He couldn’t contain his laughter as he watched Fenton sputter and flail to try and right himself. “Hey, look! You’ve just fallen in, and I’m not freaking out trying to rescue you or anything! I’d call that a solid developmeeeent!”

Fenton had apparently reoriented himself enough to latch a hand around Phantom’s ankle and yank him straight down into the water. A swarm of tiny little bubbles engulfed him as he sank down from the force of Fenton’s pull.

Ectoplasm was far less dense than water, so by all accounts, he should’ve bobbed right back up. A little bit of flight worked wonders to keep himself underwater. Still grinning, he found Fenton easily and surged at him in a tackle.

Splashing and rushing water filled their ears as the two boys tussled with one another, grabbing and kicking and punching wherever they could, not caring that Phantom was still technically injured. In one moment, Phantom had Fenton pinned down underwater kicking furiously, and in the next, Fenton had shoved Phantom into the pool wall.

Phantom phased himself out from in between Fenton and the wall only to be pulled under again by the human. As they both sank deeper, hair swirling around their heads and ripped clothes fluttering in the current, Phantom turned his head and instantly locked into Fenton’s blue gaze.

If he’d had breath, it would’ve caught in his throat. The sight of the human - his human - with clothes and hair floating weightlessly in the water, framed by the soft golden light of the lamp behind him, absolutely mesmerized him.

The urge was too powerful to fight this time. Before he could think, he took Fenton’s flushed face in his hands and brought their lips together with a hunger that made his head turn into static for an entirely different reason than a concussion.

Their mouths fit perfectly together. Like they had been made for each other.

Fenton responded just as earnestly, wrapping his arms around Phantom’s neck and tangling his fingers in the flowing white hair. He pulled the ghost in closer and pressed into his mouth greedily.

A thrill ran down Phantom’s spine as the heat from Fenton’s lips burned pleasantly against his chilly skin and sent a spike of warmth straight into his core. He brushed a thumb across his human’s cheekbone and smiled into the kiss when he heard Fenton’s watery sigh from his throat.

He could've stayed there for eternity, kissing his human in the light of the pool lamp. Just the two of them drinking each other in with a thirst that could only be satisfied by the other.

All too soon for Phantom’s liking though, Fenton was humming insistently and pulling up on his hair. Stupid humans and their stupid need to breathe.

He sighed and broke off the kiss, wrapping his arms around Fenton’s waist as he kicked upward. They both gasped for breath when they emerged on the surface - Phantom more so out of old reflex than anything.

He shook dripping wet hair out of his face. “Wow,” he whispered breathlessly. “That was -”

He was cut off as Fenton used his hold on Phantom’s head to pull him fervently back into the kiss with a nibble at his ghost’s lower lip. Phantom’s eyes flew wide open in surprise before allowing himself to relax into his hold. His hands slid into their familiar spot on Fenton’s hips as the warmth washed over him like a tidal wave.

Fenton bit down harder on his ghost’s lip, eliciting a moan from Phantom and giving him deeper access to the other boy’s mouth. He slipped his tongue in between Phantom’s lips and swept it through his mouth with a longing that he could physically taste on his human.

Ancients, he could get drunk off that taste.

He let himself get lost in the haze of pleasure as Fenton’s tongue freely explored his mouth, darting in and out and tracing the underside of his own. It wasn't often that Fenton took initiative like this, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t exhilarated by his human’s ability to take charge and absolutely ravish him. Something about it - losing himself to Fenton’s affection, the desperate need to pull himself even closer to him, his other half, his perfect match - lit a cold fire in his core that intertwined with the warmth that burned through his body.

Absently, he moved his hands up Fenton’s stomach, taking the time to ghost his fingers around the outline of his ab muscles. That earned him a gasp from his human, and warm fingers knotted themselves even further into his hair, as if he still wasn’t close enough.

A split second grin was the only warning before Phantom recaptured Fenton’s mouth. He swiped his tongue against the other boy’s impossibly smooth, heated lips and shivered in sync with the hum that issued from his human’s throat and reverberated into his own mouth.

So maybe he still liked to take charge himself. He blamed it on a ghost thing.

His hands continued to trail up Fenton’s chest to where he had managed to heal him of the claw marks. The fact that he could sense his cold energy still lingering where the wounds had been sent his core into a rollercoaster of thrill and nearly insatiable attraction.

Fenton took advantage of the momentary distraction to angle his head deeper into the kiss and run the fingernails of one hand down the back of Phantom’s neck and spine, sending a whole new slew of nerves alight in his ghost. Phantom’s head swam, not from his concussion but from the electrifying realization that Fenton was not about to surrender in this fight to make the other melt to nothing in their arms.

The thought nearly sent him right then and there.

They were so close. Impossibly close. Their chests aligned perfectly, his core mirroring Fenton’s racing heart. Another stroke from his human’s tongue only filled him further with a buzzing heat that stole every coherent thought from his mind. Nothing else mattered except them and this moment. Spectra could’ve broken out and he wouldn’t care.

And yet he still wanted more.

So did Fenton, it seemed. As Phantom’s hands flew back down his human’s body and hooked themselves into the belt loops on his jeans, Fenton’s free hand pawed desperately at the zipper on his jumpsuit, pulling it down further and -

BANG!

“- told you I’ll be there, alright? You should be thankful I can even take my lunch period to come get you! You know how many lunch detention shifts I had to take to convince Lancer to cover mine today?”

Both boys froze in horror as Coach Tetslaff’s voice echoed throughout the pool room. Phantom caught a flash of red and white rounding the corner, and in a panic, he flashed into invisibility, snatched Fenton’s waist, and pulled them straight up out of the water and all the way to the ceiling.

Fenton’s heart beat impossibly fast against his own chest as Tetslaff walked into the main area of the room, holding a cell phone up to her ear. “I wasn’t sayin’ it to make you feel guilty!” she huffed. “I was just - wait, hang on a sec.”

Phantom’s core seized as he watched her look at the still-rippling water with a mix of suspicion and exasperation. “Alright,” she shouted, lowering the phone just slightly. “Who’s here? Don’t think I don’t know about that skinny dippin’ dare goin’ round!”

If he hadn’t just narrowly avoided being seen making out with Fenton at 5:30 in the morning in the very much off-limits pool, he would’ve laughed at the idea of a skinny dipping dare. A town full of kids with jacked-up senses of risk thanks to ghosts, and that’s the best they can come up with?

As funny as he found it, he didn’t dare move a muscle. Judging by the tension he could feel in Fenton’s body, he must’ve had the same train of thought.

Slowly, still watching the pool carefully, Tetslaff brought the phone back up to her ear. “What? Naw, sorry, just some dumb kids screwin’ around and askin’ to get suspended!” she said, directing the last part out towards the room as a whole.

Phantom clutched at Fenton tighter when she suddenly looked up, straight at them. He realized in horror that though they were still invisible, they were both still dripping wet, emphasis on the dripping. Drops of water slid off their bodies and plinked into the pool below. Of course she would notice something like that.

For an agonizing, long few seconds, they floated there, not even daring to breathe as she squinted up at them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she shook her head. “Damn leaky roof,” she muttered. “My team gets first at state for four years runnin’ and they can’t even give me a decent roof.”

She stalked off towards the locker room doors, apparently still determined to find her ‘skinny dippers.’ “Whaddaya mean they’re givin’ me a woof? Roof, I said roof.” She pushed open the girls’ locker room door. “I swear I’m gettin’ you hearin’ aids for Christmas.”

Her voice faded away as the door shut behind her. Only when he couldn’t hear it any longer did Phantom let up on the invisibility. Adrenaline hit him like a wave and made his head hurt all over again.

Fenton, however, grinned in exhilaration. “Holy shit,” he whispered with a nervous giggle. “I didn’t even know she got here this early!”

Phantom didn’t tear his eyes away from the locker room door. Ancients help him if he let up his guard and ended up getting themselves caught. He shuddered to think of the scandal. And trying to explain the whole thing to their family. Why Fenton found the whole thing funny, he had no idea.

Speaking of the human, the hairs on the back of Phantom’s neck prickled as he felt his eyes on him. He looked to see Fenton wearing a stupid grin with an eyebrow raised. “What’s that look for?”

Fenton’s smile broadened. “Wanna pick up where we left off?” he asked with a playful lilt.

“Seriously? After that? When you know she’ll be coming back here?”

“Not here, you idiot,” Fenton said with a roll of his eyes. “There’s still plenty of time before school starts. More than enough to go back home and finish what you started.” He tapped a finger against Phantom’s lips.

Phantom only frowned. “You seriously can’t still be turned on right now,” he said around the human’s finger.

Fenton shrugged. “What can I say?” His pupils dilated as he traced a finger down the little sliver of Phantom’s exposed chest. “Something about the thrill of it.”

Phantom swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the tingle left in the wake of the human’s finger. “I wouldn’t exactly call us nearly getting caught thrilling. And will you stop that?”

“Aw, come on! Live a little!” Fenton’s goofy grin returned, still with half-lidded eyes, and he planted a peck on the ghost’s cheek.

“I’m a ghost. By definition, I don’t live.”

“... You’re no fun.”

“Hmm.” Phantom’s lips quirked up into a smile, and he leaned in to place a tender, feather-light kiss on his human’s lips. “Too bad you’re stuck with me then.”

Despite the kiss, Fenton still pouted. “You know if we don’t go back home, you might as well just leave me here. And then you won’t get to see me till after school. Or later. Maybe I’ll get detention on purpose just to mess with you.”

“... Alright, alright, we’re going.”

#danny phantom #pitch pearl #danny phantom pitch pearl #danny fenton #hannah writes #danny phantom fanfic #this uhhhh grew way longer than i was expecting #mildly suggestive

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prince-kallisto · 5 months

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Very much agree with all of your thoughts on Playful Land. The ending really was lackluster...to be honest, when I first saw the trailer, I was soooo excited for what had the potential to be THE darkest, most disturbing event in all of TWST (I thought their card designs were already so cool and unnerving at the same time! Their outfits but also their eerily puppet-like poses...!). But at the end, none of the topics that you mentioned that could have been explored were explored. Like hello, you are dealing with fucking HUMAN TRAFFICKING??!? Also more emphasis on magic being used for something like THIS. Turning people into puppets is fucking terrifying.

Also, very much a minor nitpick, but I kiiiind of expected/hoped this event to take place during the same time as the Masquerade event? Since the Playful event involved everyone who stayed behind. Like, I'm just imagining everyone who went to the Masquerade coming back after a hectic near death experience, only to find that the people left behind went through a terrifying experience of their own at the same time and are now traumatized, and nobody had a fun Halloween. Lmao. Although I guess it didn't make much sense to expect this, since Yuu's in both events and they can't be in the other when they're already at one lmao.

I'm also not hating, all in all it was actually a pretty decent event all things considered! I also loved the introduction of Fellow and Gidel. And the song slaps imo. Still, if you make a fix-it fic or find any, think you could share it? I'd love to see your work if you do make one!

Ahhh I feel the same way too! It really felt like the Halloween events were about to get darker and darker every year- they are HALLOWEEN events for a reason! Their cards were so eerie too, it made all the characters look like puppets under control. Which is why it’s so strange that none of that actually happened in the event? ∑(ﾟДﾟ) The boys did get wooden masks and such, losing their own autonomy, but I thought the puppet theme would be a lot heavier than it actually was. Like, at least forcing the boys to fight against Kalim, Ortho, and Ace, instead of using random wooden puppets.

THE HUMAN TRAFFICKING BEING BRUSHED OFF HAS ME ROLLING 😭😭😭. What do you mean Fellow just sails away to open a school for children 😭😭😭 Like the game literally never elaborates on what happened to the people turned into human puppets. Are they dead?? Are they alive and forever trapped in this horrifying puppet-like state??? Like??? I definitely need to read up on the last parts of the event, but the idea that someone can even has this ability is horrifying, and I really would’ve liked to see the commentary on this sort of magic. How magic and human greed combine to create unthinkable atrocities that are only doable through magic. It’s just…wow. It blows my mind that this incredible concept was conceived, but never elaborated on.

Haha, exactly! I think it’s so funny that no one’s predictions on Playful Land came true. Nothing about Ace’s brother was involved, the Masquerade event theory didn’t happen. I don’t think it was even Halloween during this event either. Maybe it could’ve been a “Fairy Gala IF” type of event where Yuu can be at both events for alternate-universe type of thing. Although, to be honest, neither Yuu or Grim played a huge role in the story (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*) I’m always happy to have Grim with us, and him dressed up as Lampwick made me cry, but Yuu was more of an observer than usual.

And same here! I know I sound negative but I’m really not! I love the event for what it is, and we got amazing new characters and animations and costumes. It’s just a shame to think of what could’ve been. I haven’t seen any fix it fics yet, at least on Ao3! I have been working on drafting a rewrite though! ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) I’m really excited to write my visions for this event, especially with Fellow and Gidel’s backstory, and I’ll keep everyone updated on this. Whenever I drop the chapters, I’ll always post about them on my blog and link my Ao3 updates. It will take a while before I get there, but I hope it’s soon, thank you for interest! ＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／ Thanks for your ask, I loved hearing your thoughts about this event!

#kallistopost #twst playful land #ask kallisto

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i-didnt-do-1t · 10 months

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‘Let’s Keep this Clean’ (cw: violence, threat)

David had never been good at keeping his mouth shut. Sarah was known to argue that he was actually actively bad at it, and he would’ve disagreed with her but to some degree that would feel like losing, so he didn’t. It didn’t help that she had an argument he couldn’t dispute- David had accidentally been the catalyst in starting a strike because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. So when he thought about it, really it was inevitable that he provoked a fight. It was only a matter of time.

Fight was a kind word, one that made it sound less like the reality. One that made it sound like he had ever had a chance.

He’d made the mistake of leaving the lodging house late, and while Finch had offered to walk with him on account of his plans to go meet a girl he’d first met at Medda’s last week, Dave politely declined. Because he was an adult (almost) and could walk home himself (Les had run on earlier that day- a school friend coming over being one of the only things to prompt him into leaving the lodging house before David had to physically drag him home) and also, arguably more than anything, he didn’t want to bother him or have him go out of his way (though he kept that part mostly to himself.)

Katherine had told him he had too much pride and David had just stared at her an eyebrow raised in incredulity till Jack laughed at them both.

The walk was fine, a little cold maybe, till a hand grabbed his shoulder and the wind was knocked out of his chest as he was shoved roughly against the brick wall behind him, the back of his head cracking against it.

His gaze darkened all at once and came back slowly in time to the wheezing breaths pushing painfully through his chest and the ringing reverberating through his skull from the impact.

“Hi Davey.”

He recognised the voice, and the face started to take focus next.

Oscar Delancey had one hand a vice grip on David’s collar, and the other shoved in his pocket, casual, like he didn’t even have to try. And David would’ve fought back if he thought he had a chance at winning, if he didn’t feel like he was standing on a rocking boat.

“Oscar.” He said, and wow the last time he had been winded he had been eight and fallen off the fire escape of their building and he didn’t remember it being this bad. “This your regular night time routine?”

Shut up.

“Or a special occasion just for me.”

Shut. Up.

and yes maybe his voice was shaking a little as he spoke but that wasn’t really the point.

The grip on his collar tightened slightly. Just behind Oscar, Morris lingered, leant back casually against the other side of the alley, cigarette held between his teeth, just watching.

“You like to act all smart Jacobs but you’re dumb as a pile of bricks ain’t ya?”

Walking Mouth. Jack was not going to let him live this down. Assuming David actually lived.

“It’s uh- I guess it’s subjective?”

He wasn’t expecting the blow to his stomach, hadn’t even noticed Oscar taking his hand out of his pocket, but the noise that left him was a gasp and he would’ve doubled over had it not been for the fist holding him up.

“That ain’t so subjective is it?” Oscar asked, rhetorical, tone sharp at the edges, and tainted with a cruel satisfaction.

“Have I-“ God it was difficult to breath and even more difficult to speak. “Have I done something?”

Aside from the obvious, David was pretty good at staying off the Delancey’s radar, he didn’t provoke them the way Race did. But also knew it was a stupid question- because the Delancey’s didn’t need a reason, they just acted, and things between them had been rougher than usual the month since the strike ended.

“Nah,” Oscar said, too casual. He pulled David up by the collar in a way that made his head throb. “But your brother don’t know when to keep his mouth shut. Guess it runs in the family.”

David could feel the blood rushing through his veins, the familiar spider like feeling of anxiety crawling under his skin.

“What?” The word was breathless.

“But y’know, I know what it’s like to have a kid brother.” David’s gaze met with Morris over Oscar’s shoulder as he rolled his eyes at his brothers statement (weirdly reminiscent of how Les acted when Davey said things like that-) He threw the butt of his cigarette on the ground and ground it into the dusty street with his shoe. “So I’m giving you the choice of who takes the hits Dave-“

“Me.” He interrupted, he could hear his heart beat in his ears, from the sudden rush of fear or the blow to his head he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. “He’s just a ki-“

Another hit to the stomach had him doubling over this time as Oscar loosened his grip, a wheeze escaping his mouth as he fought the urge to cough up bile.

Oscar shook out his hand.

“Long time coming, don’t ya think Morris?”

Shut up David. The voice in his head sounded like an odd mix between Sarah, Jack and Race.

“My classmates probably agree.” It was more a sputter than a statement but this time when Oscar hit him David went down. The only coherent thought that really made it through as he hit the ground was that Sarah was going to be pissed, she had only washed his trousers yesterday.

“Hey Morris.” He could hear rather than see Morris stepping away from the wall, David tried to push himself to his elbows, “wanna fix his jaw?”

His arms were kicked out from under him, a sharp pain shooting from his elbow to his shoulder.

“I’ve been waiting for weeks.”

The second attempt to push himself up was stopped with a boot stomping on his shoulder, pinning him to the ground as a pained exhale, something almost like a groan but rougher escaped through gritted teeth.

His shoulder was on fire as his breaths came out in short bursts, his left cheek grinding into the dust and gravel of the street.

“I’m” the boot dug in harder, “touched-“

One of their boots- he didn’t know whose anymore, clipped the side of his jaw, he could taste iron, feel it run down his chin and pool on the ground beneath him.

Then a hand in his hair, gripping and pulling and painful and his head was wretched up from the ground,

“C’mon Mouth. Say something.”

Oscar, Morris, It was difficult to tell, but one of them was hunkered in front of him. Whichever one of them was holding his hair gave it a sharp tug, pulling his neck back to a painful degree, and Morris, it was Morris in front him he concluded when his vision settled for a second, lit another cigarette, blowing the smoke in David’s face. “You finally gone quiet?”

David couldn’t speak, couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t feel anything past the burning in his shoulder and the sharp pull of his hair and the throbbing in his head.

Instead, he spat a mouthful of blood.

Morris’s eyes, face now splattered with blood, turned darker somehow. He threw his cigarette on the ground, the end of it still smouldering.

David had seconds to process his decision as the hand fisting his hair tightened, and as Morris’s boot hit his face. He heard the crack before he felt it.

Then he didn’t feel anything.

(Part 2- https://www.tumblr.com/i-didnt-do-1t/721325460958609408/lets-keep-this-clean-part-2-part-1)

#newsies #david jacobs #newsies fanfiction #the delancey brothers #morris delancey #oscar delancey #les jacobs #davey jacobs

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octagledestroyer · 1 year

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Good Omens Episode 3

I still don’t know why y’all are interested in this, but it’s more popular than anything I’ve ever posted before (including meticulously crafted DND stories and no im not bitter about that who’s bitter I’m not bitter you’re bitter) so I guess I’ll just...keep going?

Oh, and we’re back to the Garden of Eden. What’s he doing with that rock- oh look it’s God

Ah, this is presumably Noah’s Ark. Ok, but the thing is (here I go on a literary rant)- all civilizations who have recorded history have some sort of a flood myth/story! It’s everywhere- I really do think that at some point there was a massive flood that reached...possibly everywhere, I’m not too familiar with Native American mythology, but presumably Asia and Europe.

“As a promise not to...do it again.” “How kind” Crowley’s sass is l e g e n d a r y

wOW I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT OK I JUST GOT OUT OF HOLY WEEK

that was...a lot more graphic than I was expecting. I mean, you hear the hymns, everything, I even cried on Holy Thursday and couldn’t keep singing but I’ve never seen...

“What else am I gonna be, an aardvark?” Ok but does this mean Aziraphel was hoping that Crowley could be redeemed

these boys are SO dramatic- how old are they, 12?

burbage was absoLUTELY flirting with Crowley also why does it feel like Aziraphel knows nothing about plays? I mean “I love all the...talking...” it’s called a MONOLOGUE you silly angel

Hah so this is the Arrangement I’ve heard/read so much about. Ohhh Aziraphel’s so worried about Crowley! How did it take him until the literal end of the world to figure out he liked Crowley?

Ah, Paris. I’ve been waiting for this. Dude is so OBVIOUSLY waiting for Crowley-

Oh, Crowley froze time, didn’t he? Zira’s face just lit up like a candle how is he THIS OBLIVIOUS

I mean...do I feel bad for Jean-Claude or not? How did those soldiers not recognize him?

“I like pears” oh stay on topic Zira. Also, did anyone else get flashbacks to the Doctor’s hate of pears when they were talking about this?

...even though I knew this fight was coming and could practically recite it word-for-word it still h u r t

Ah. 1941. That’s a lot of lit candles for a church with two people in it...and those do NOT look secure. Even if that church didn’t blow up it probably would’ve burned to the ground sooner rather than later.

Whoa- triple crossing

They’re making light conversation while someone points a gun at them- never change, boys. never change.

his fACE HE- gAH THESE BOYS

Also Crowley sounds so cool and suave but I would bet all the money in my purse that he rehearsed what he was going to say beforehand- probably in front of a mirror

wait, shadwell- shadwell- oh im STUPID ITS

im not even going to finish that sentence

Zira’s so scared and my heart is breaking

we’re halfway through the episode and NOW the title sequence starts. It still doesn’t make any sense but at this point I’m just here for the music- oh and that epic thing they do at the end where the letters unfold to say “Good Omens”

I’m still in love with Dog. He’s the best thing ever and I want to hug him.

Ok Adam is also completely precious. His book sounds exactly like something an 11-year-old would write.

Ooooh Shadwell and Crowley still keep in touch- and Shadwell thinks Crowley’s the son of the man he met in... what was it, 1960? It’s been less than 10 minutes and I already can’t remember

I bet Anathema’s ranting about the world is going to shape what happens in Armageddon

Adam’s been manipulating the weather in Tadfield for years, hasn’t he. White Christmas...

Are you serious both Crowley and Zira have been sponsoring the Witchfinder’s Army?

Chow™

b o y s you cannot do this to my h e a r t

Adam got rid of nuclear power in his sleep and replaced it with a sherbet lemon. wow.

Well, that’s the end of episode 3- you know, I’m really enjoying this, more than I thought I would. I know the plot, yeah, but there’s so much I didn’t know and can still be surprised by. Next post might come out tomorrow or Sunday, or it might not...I’ve got a lot of editing to do.

#good omens #aziraphel #crowley #good omens show #rambling post #i don't know what im doing

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strangerthingsharrington · 2 years

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Late Night Talking pt. 2

Forever Yours, Faithfully

A/N - yalllll i didnt expect Late Night Talking to blow up!!!! You guys are the best. This was requested a few times. And I just love Eddie so, I had to give you guys the date 🥹🥹

Title credits to Harry Styles (late night talking) and Journey.

Summary - Eddie and y/n go on their date 💕💕

Warnings - none? I don’t think anyways. No ST spoilers.

Once you woke up you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. You showered, dried your hair and got dressed unable to contain the excitement that was bursting out of you.

You were going out on a date with Eddie Munson. A week ago that thought never would have entered your brain. Neither of you having acknowledged the existence of the other until you dialed his number accidentally and began talking through the night about nothing and everything.

Once three in the afternoon rolled around and you had tidied up your room out of boredom, you realized you weren’t sure when you were supposed to be meeting him at the high school. You sat awkwardly at your desk, looking at your phone, willing it to ring so you didn’t have to make the call.

What if he was asleep? What if he changed his mind? You couldn’t imagine the embarrassment that would radiate off of you for the rest of your life if you called him just to have him laugh and tell you to forget about it.

You groaned and tipped your head back, unsure of what to do. You sat like that for a few more minutes before summoning the courage to just get it over with and call him and see what time you were meeting.

With a deep breath, you gripped the receiver and put it to your ear and began dialing.

“Huh, hello? Uncle Wayne?”

“Eddie?” you questioned.

“Y/N?”

“Huh,” you laughed, “I know for sure that I didn’t finish dialing out?”

“I was calling you,” Eddie said with a small laugh, “I think it barely rang when you started dialing.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Great minds, Eddie.”

“Great minds,” he agreed happily, “I was calling to see when you wanted to meet up? I would’ve called earlier but didn’t want to bother you…”

“That is-yeah that’s why I was calling too,” you giggled.

“Wow, we’re really on the same wave length,” he said in awe.

You breathed out a small laugh, “I’m not mad about that to be honest,” you told him, “and I’m good whenever you are.”

“Okay. Okay! Perfect,” he began with excitement in his voice making your heart swell, “I’m ready too! We can start heading over there now, if you want?”

“Yes!” you responded quickly, “Yeah, absolutely. I’ll meet you there, near the front doors?”

“I’ll be there soon! See ya!” he said in a sing song voice before you both hung up making you laugh, shaking your head.

You jumped up from your seat and rushed downstairs shoving your feet into a black pair of boots to keep you warm during the brisk November afternoon.

You left your house and walked quickly to the school, never having been that excited to get to Hawkins High. You arrived at the top of the hill where the middle school was and looked down at the front doors of Hawkins High, you saw his van parked right in front of the doors, and saw Eddie leaning against the wall next to the front doors. His hands were absentmindedly drumming against his legs nervously. He would look around every few seconds in anticipation trying to spot you.

You had started making your way down the paved hill just as he looked over your way. Even from where you were you could see the smile break out across his face. He ran over towards you and met you just as you hit the bottom of the hill, without thinking he put his arms around your waist and picked you up, swinging you around a couple times as you had your hands around his neck giggling as he did so.

He finally put you down and looked at you, “Hi, darlin,” he said quietly.

“Hi, Eddie,” you smiled.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, face turning red but making no moves to remove his arms from around you, “I just…really wanted to hug you,” he said softly.

You beamed up at him, “Trust me, I’m not complaining.”

He breathed out a small sigh as his eyes shined, “So,” he said, releasing you, “what do you want to do?”

You let your arms fall from around his neck a bit reluctantly, “I don’t know!” you told him honestly, “it’s Hawkins, it’s a pretty boring place.”

He hummed in agreement and put his arm around your shoulder, “That is very true, Y/N,” he said quietly, leading the two of you back towards the front of the school.

He gasped suddenly and jumped in front of you stopping you in your tracks causing you to begin laughing uncontrollably. His eyes were wide and shining, his smile was so wide and full of excitement, “I’ve got it,” he said simply.

“Care to fill me in on this idea?” you wondered, matching his smile.

He smirked and put a finger to his chin, taping it a few times, “Hmmm, should I let you know of my brilliant plan? Or should I let the criminal mastermind lead his protege blindly?” he questioned adding an evil laugh to finish it off making you cover your mouth with your hand stifling the loud laugh that was threatening to fall out of your mouth.

“Hey,” Eddie said softly, bringing his hand up to move your off of your mouth, “don’t try to hide you laugh. I meant it when I said it…I could listen to your laugh all the time,” he murmured, letting his hand drop slowly from yours.

You let a soft laugh fall from your lips as you looked up into Eddie’s bright brown eyes. You brought the hand that had been on your lips and laced your fingers with Eddie’s.

You leaned in closer to him, his eyes going wide with surprise before glancing down from your eyes to your lips then back up again. His eyes going from surprise to hooded in an instant.

Your eyes shifted as well, from his eyes to his lips and back again. You grinned softly as you both leaned in even closer, “Blindly,” you said lowly with a tiny grin, sidestepping him with his hand still in yours.

You pulled him towards his van you looked over your shoulder at him and saw him with a red face but with a huge grin laughing as you led him by the hand.

“Hey, I’m supposed to be leading you blindly, not the other way around!” he chided playfully, before spinning the two of you around so he was the one leading you to his van.

You laughed as you walked behind him, hands clasped together tightly. Eddie opened the passenger door to his van, letting go of your hand to stand next to the door and take a deep bow.

“Lady Y/L/N,” he declared dramatically.

You laughed and hopped into the front seat, kicking away the food wrappers, pop and beer can, and cigarette butts. But even that couldn’t dampen your spirits.

Eddie closed the door behind you and ran around the front, jumping into the drivers seat.

“So, are you going to tell me?” you teased looking to him.

He started up the van as Metallica began playing, “I told ya, sweetheart,” he began, “blindly,” he reminded you, putting the van into reverse and taking off.

—

“I love this one,” you said, turning your head slightly towards Eddie.

He pulled you closer to his side and rubbed your shoulder, “Well you, my dear, have very good taste,” he said with a smile.

You smiled and tightened your hold on his waist looking up at the glossy black electric guitar hanging on the wall of the music shop Eddie drove the two of you to.

Both of you continued walking around the store looking at the different guitars and drums until Eddie led you towards the back, “But this is what I really wanted you to see,” he confessed as you entered the area with at least ten different piano’s.

“Wow,” you said in awe, letting go of Eddie and walking towards the baby grands that were there, ghosting your fingers along the keys of an all white one.

“Play something,” he encouraged placing his hand on the small of your back.

You smiled and looked up at him, “I haven’t touched a piano in…almost a year…I’d be so rusty.”

“No way,” he said shaking his head, “it’s like riding a bike. You’ll sound amazing.”

You looked back down at the piano and felt the overwhelming urge to play, so you sat on the bench with Eddie sitting right next to you.

You cleared your throat and sat up straight, adjusting so you could reach the pedals with your feet and got your arms in place, your fingers touching the keys gracefully.

You looked over to Eddie and grinned before turning back to the piano and allowing yourself to play. It had been so long since you heard a piano and it almost made you emotional. It was something you used to love but weren’t able to partake in anymore.

Eddie continued to watch you, unable to take his eyes off you. Within the first few strokes of the keys he knew you were playing Journeys Faithfully.

He took you in, you with your eyes closed and a smile ghosting over your lips. You were a natural. It was like you were made to play. To Eddie, you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and the fact you were out in public on a date with Eddie the Freak Munson…he didn’t understand it.

While you were thinking you were invisible to the world and a nobody at Hawkins High, Eddie knew you. Or at least, wanted to know you. You were beautiful and smart and kind. And even though it had only been a few days that you two had actually known each other, it felt like a lifetime to him. Eddie was falling. Hard. And he didn’t care because it felt right. Whatever…force had made you dial his number that night he knew it was a moment that had changed the direction of his life forever.

You played the last few notes and let your hands fall into your lap. You kept your eyes closed appreciating the final notes still hanging in the air. You took a deep breath and let it out, opening your eyes and turning to look at Eddie.

“Did it sound okay?” you asked quietly.

Without hesitation, he put his hand into your hair resting it on the back of your head, bringing your face close to his, resting your foreheads together. You stared up and him and watched his eyes darken and he held eye contact with you.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his lips grazed over yours.

You were the one who brought your lips against his. His chapped lips meeting your smooth ones, he moved his free hand against your cheek and you brought your hands up to hold onto the front of his leather jacket pulling him closer to you.

Both your hearts were beating so fast and hard both of you were sure the other could feel it.

Finally you broke the kiss but your foreheads were still leaning against each other. Eddie’s smile was the biggest you had seen yet and you were sure yours matched.

“Thank you for calling me,” he whispered, placing a small kiss to the side of your mouth.

You bit your lip and brushed some of his fallen hair from his face, “Thank you for picking up,” you whispered back.

He breathed out a small laugh, rubbing his thumb along your cheek, before leaning back down to kiss you once more.

—-

Tags - thanks for replying and requesting a part 2 🥹🥹

@k1llerdolls

@lovelyladymayyy

@hellobinayxo

@lili-pond

@weird-flute

@forsaken-letters

@thegirlbeyondtheuniverse

@renaroo123

@blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n

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eoieopda · 9 months

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I should know better than to start my Sunday mornings by reading your fics by now. Why do I still do it? Cause I like to make myself suffer. 🥰

Let me start by just saying- *clears throat* AaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Why are you making menace OC suffer so much? Why is my poor baby always being thrown headfirst into an emotional turmoil? Why would you write an entire part about her feeling like cellophane and then casually dropping that scene w Jin remembering how 14 y/o him forgot to pick her up from dance practice? If you think my rant has anything to do w my insecurity of being unwanted, no it doesnt.

Why is Jin being a dumbwit by throwing parties to make them get together while simultaneously messing w Jimin by casually telling him that he's lucky he's not swallowing his teeth for fooling around w someone's sister? Why didn't Jimin tell her that her brother made him blow her off one year ago? I have so many question🫥

And if I remember correctly, I think pt.3 ended w Jin finding Jimin in front of oc's house? What happened to that?

I'm sorry for bombarding you w so many questions 😭 You did so good😭💕 You're so fucking good at writing angst! You make the wait sooo worth it and if you ever saw me crying, no you didn't. Ok maybe a little! 🥹

oh, wow, thank you so much! 😭💕 it’s early where i am, so my brain is bad at determining what’s rhetorical and what isn’t (lol). here’s why i did what i did:

because (surprise!) i’m the menace 😌 lmao. no but really, i wanted to make it super clear why this very specific letdown would’ve been so devastating + why that experience with jimin as kids wound up with mc putting him on a pedestal to fall from later. mc’s never really seen him clearly, just angel (then) and demon (now).

this comes up at the beginning of pt. iv, but jimin would’ve talked it through if mc hadn’t left that voicemail 😔 poor buddy heard his deepest insecurity weaponized by the last person he’d ever expect/want to hear it from 🥲

the conversation with seokjin happens right after jimin leaves mc’s house and goes home! that’s why seokjin asks if jimin has anything he wants to tell him, criticizes him for taking what seokjin thinks is two years to make a move, etc. meanwhile, jimin is 👁️👄👁️ because he 1) got caught, 2) did not wait two years to get with seokjin’s sister, and 3) this whole thing wouldn’t have happened if he’d known seokjin was rooting for them. ✨ everybody in this fic needs therapy ✨

#jade speaks #borabitsch #re: menace #pjm

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beaversatemygrandma · 1 year

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Update to last night’s whole thing. Uhhh That went Fantastically well. I think I’m actually fine with the direction this whole thing is headed. Apparently he was just acting playful which is totally fair, i do fuck around a decent amount. But to literally anybody else that would’ve been a cute thing and then you just blow it off because it wasn’t entirely serious. But for me that ended up triggering something intense and I Literally can’t explain why.

I have a friend that tells me to get checked for PTSD and he may be right. That was a FlashBack and Fuck. Ow. Bad one.

I feel bad because of how i handled it last night, but i was literally triggered and just Had To Shut That Down. He lost sleep and felt bad about the whole thing. But this morning’s conversation went so well. He understands entirely and Wow. I wasn’t expecting such good conversation ability here. That’s not something you get out of inexperienced guys that often, hell, not even often from experienced ones. This is Open. This is refreshing. This is literally perfect for this kind of thing. I’m genuinely shocked. If i hadn’t known the guy in high school and was previously good friends with him back then, i would’ve ghosted after that, but I’m glad i gave him the chance here. I genuinely think this will be somebody who will treat me right in a relationship when the time comes around that i can finally be around him in person again.

This guy literally looked at the baggage i presented and said “I can work with that” and proceeded to give me the sweetest damn talk about it. Like wow. This has never happened before. I was a bit too secretive in the beginning of my last relationship but i learned a lot from that one. And he’s already got it down somehow. Yeah, i could easily fall for him. I mean, it’s just infatuation now, but i can totally see this working out for the best.

Yeah, i thought i was in too deep before. I’ve entirely sunk now. I’m stuck in too deep with this one and I’m enjoying it.

I do wonder what would’ve happened if i did do something with him in high school. Like if i dropped that piece of shit i was dating and just went for the sweet nerdy guy who was absolutely crushing on me for years. So much would be different. Then again, it might not have worked out because i wouldn’t have worked out so much for myself if i hadn’t gone through all that shit in the past. It’s all a learning experience really. Not to mention whatever he’s gone through. He’s matured and my god, so different, so different that it’s actually refreshing to be around.

High school me would be annoyed with this, but current me loves this. Past me? She can shut up. Current me? Their opinion matters. And current me thinks this will be the best option for my future mental health and happiness. Goddamn, this guy makes me happy. I’m so glad i just went ahead and reached out and that it wasn’t some old dead email that i had.

#taks speaks #oh my god and complication resolved. wow.#take note: good communication can and will get you somewhere

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wolves-and-stars · 2 years

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Part Four: ‘The Deer Hunters’ ‘PS I Love You’

Sirius walked into the coffee shop at exactly 4:12, eyes searching before he found Remus sitting up at the counter sipping on coffee, breathing out a sigh of relief he walked in taking the stool beside him.

"Sirius? Sirius! Hi!" Remus exclaimed the act of surprise and recognition being more endearing than it should've been.

"Small world, huh?" Sirius said playing along

"Absolutely!"

"What are you drinking?"

"Coffee," Remus replied carefully

"Plain coffee?" Sirius teased

"I wanted some cream but that prompted a very elaborate foam conversation. And the look of disapproval I got when I said I didn't want foam, just cream, rivalled the one I got from my dad when I told him I wanted to be a teacher." Remus said sighing theatrically, looking chuffed for having come up with that.

"Wow, so it's been a tough outing for you, huh?" Sirius cooed, mock concerned

"Well, it's getting better." Remus Quirked

"So, here we are" Sirius sighed

"Here we most certainly are," Remus affirmed

“Running into each other.”

“Away from the school.”

“In these unique strictures.”

“These things do happen.”

“Fate can be funny.”

"Should we cut the cute and just get right to it?" Sirius said finally.

"I think we should date." Remus proposed, crossing his arms, eyebrows scrunched seriously.

"Why?" Sirius countered.

"Because I think we both want to," Remus smirked.

"Well- I want to be in the Bangles but that doesn't mean I quit my job and get a guitar and ruin my life to be a Bangle, does it?"

"The Bangles broke up." Remus laughed

"I repeat my question: 'why should we date?' Sirius pushed

"Because we're clearly attracted to each other. " Remus said easily

"I'm attracted to pie. It doesn't mean I feel the need to date pie"

"OK then because we are --"

"Yes?"

" -- of similar heights.” Remus said defeatedly, choking for the first time since they'd met, he was clearly expecting something easier but Sirius wouldn't give him that, Couldn't give him that, not with Harry.

"Wow! Round one and already tapped." Sirius taunted.

"Look I know that you’re concerned about the appearance of us dating." Remus started.

"Yes, I am."

"Well, I can tell you that I am the soul of discretion when it comes to delicate relationships."

"Dated a lot of student's parents, huh?"

"No, I meant any relationships -- work, family."

"Oh, so you have things to hide in all aspects of your life -- very interesting." Sirius attacked mercilessly.

"Do you have any hemlock back there? Arsenic, something quick?" Remus begged the waitress passing by, making her smile, infuriatingly charming.

"Do you like rap music?" Sirius asked suddenly.

"Yeah."

"Me too. Italian food?"

"Yeah."

"Me too. Are you just telling me what I want to hear?"

"Yeah."

"I knew it!"

"Doesn't mean it doesn't coincide with how I really feel," Remus said logically, unfortunately.

"Yeah, but if you're telling me what you think I want to hear then I'm not really getting to know you." Sirius accused

"And if I know what you want to hear that shows a level of understanding on my part that far exceeds your understanding of me." Remus countered

Sirius was silent for a beat before Remus allowed himself the victory.

"Wow, round one and already tapped!" He mocked before Sirius looked at him positively solemn, "Harry is my life. He's my pal, my everything. And I would never, ever do anything that would hurt him." He said firmly.

"I understand, but Harry isn't a baby anymore." Remus said delicately.

"Don’t say that, he’s 8, he’s 8 and his favourite hobby is making necklaces out of gum wrappers." Sirius pouted, crossing his arms.

"Well, you could try stunting his growth, putting him in a box, blowing cigarette smoke on him." Remus teased in an ever so sweet tone, unfortunately, it was right as a man sat in the empty stool between them.

If looks could kill Remus would've been dead, he rolled his eyes "You are so taking this out of context." he explained only to have the man leave.

Sighing he started again "Ok, when my uncle was a young man, there was this girl who lived across the street from him and he was completely in love with her, but he never talked to her. But he knew in his gut that this was the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with."

"This is gonna be sad isn't it?" Sirius interrupted, trying to distract himself from the enthralling man and his enthralling tales, more so than said man.

"So anyhow, my uncle watches this girl waiting for the right moment to approach her, the next thing he knows, he gets drafted." Remus continued as if Sirius had never interrupted.

"Oh, going for the kleenex."

"No, he thinks this is perfect. ‘I’ll come back, I’ll have a career, I’ll have served my country, I’ll be worthy of her love.’

"When he gets back, she’s gone - moved away, no one knew where. He never saw that girl again. Now my uncle didn’t say much to me, but the one thing that he did say was that if there’s something in your gut that you know you feel is right, you gotta go after it, no matter what and I believe in stories that can sometimes have a great ending" Remus concluded with a tone of finality.

Sighing Sirius took the napkin laying in front of him, screw Remus lupin for being so bloody convincing, writing down his number.

"Maybe dinner wouldn't be so bad." Sirius quipped as if it wasn't the only thing in the world he wanted to do right then.

"Do you mean we could sit together? Even drive together?" Remus said clutching his heart dramatically.

Sirius tossed the napkin towards him hiding the smirk trying to force its way out "Just take the card." he sighed.

"I might frame the card." Remus beamed.

"Just use the card," Sirius suggested alternatively.

"I definitely will." Remus nodded looking sky-high

He folded the napkin carefully placing it in the pocket of his coat near his heart, which should absolutely not have been as endearing as it was, patting the hand over it as it to make sure it was secure making Sirius' heart burst.

"Hey, that story about your uncle -- is that true? " Sirius asked curiously, when Remus turned to leave.

Remus looked over his shoulder tilting his head to the side as if considering it for a moment before smiling

"Goodbye Sirius Black."

#wolfstar #enemies to lovers #Remus lupin

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lesbinewren · 3 years

Text

i love it when people like “omg [story] copied [other story]” and then list the steps of the heroes journey

#baby’s first media analysis #my post #1k #5k #10k #20k #30k #40k #wow i never would’ve expected this to blow up #50k #60k #70k #80k #90k #100k #omg

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sugawarassoulmate · 3 years

Note

idk if this aligns w what you want to do w ur bully!samu but i really want this man to PANIC. i want him to get scared (in his own mean way) when y/n starts doing everything to avoid him. THIS MF NEEDS TO BE HUMBLED (not that i dont like how he is now bc. 👀)

honestly, besties, i’m pretty sure this man would break.

wow….i wrote more than intended LMAO

words: 983

cw: fem!reader, bullying, name calling, silent treatment, couch sex, breaking the bully LOL, minors dni

you have to remember, y’all have known each other since you were babies. anywhere samu went in life, you were never too far behind. of course, you were with his piece of shit brother but now you’re all his :(((

but you’re fed up with him shoving you around and spilling his drinks on you. tired of him telling—not asking— you do to things for him. annoyed with how he would glare at you for talking to anyone that wasn’t him.

sooo you decided that you’d ignore him for a bit and get some time for yourself. it started with putting him on “do not disturb”. samu has a habit of blowing up your phone when he hasn’t seen you in a while, guilt tripping you to come over to his place. once you mute him, that guilty feeling never festers in the pit of your stomach.

you also start heading to classes early, not waiting around for him to take you to campus. you take the bus and get some time to read before class instead of hearing samu grumble the entire time.

samu notices something’s wrong right away. why wouldn’t you answer his texts, are you stupid? he’ll go over to your house the next day but you’re not home (you decided to spend the night at a friend’s house instead) he tries talking to you on campus but you don’t give him the time of day

it goes on for a week and he’s fed up. you’re ignoring him again, talking to a classmate when samu grabs you by the arm and pulls you into an empty classroom. “the fuck is yer deal, idiot?” he asks in his usual gruff voice but his eyes are bearing into your soul, hands gripping your sides like you’ll leave him any second. “who else could ya possibly be with? it’s not like ya have any friends.” his words have much less venom, almost as if he said whatever means thing he could think of in the moment rather than think of something that would’ve actually hurt your feelings.

you mumble something about needing some space and that gets his attention. space??? from him????? he has another insult on the tip of his tongue but you’re leaving the room before it can come out.

space??? you fucking want space??? fine, he’ll give it to you. don’t come crawling back to him, you little bitch. two can play at this game. samu will ignore you until you’re begging for his attention.

two weeks. he lasts two more weeks.

he stops sending texts but he’s checking his phone every five minutes to see if you texted instead (you didn’t) he won’t talk to you but he’s sneaking glances during lectures hoping you’re doing the same (you’re not)

he’s literally too stupid to admit that he needs you around

“oh, this is a surprise,” you weren’t expecting to find osamu on your doorstep. osamu never knocks, he got a key to your house years ago. “for emergencies” your mother had told the twins when she handed them their own copies. they were never used for “emergencies” though. osamu always barged into your home when he knew nobody else was there. he wanted to bother you, push you around, and fuck you dumb. “what’s up?”

osamu looks bad—his hair is a mess with the roots showing and there’s bags under his eyes as if he hasn’t gotten enough sleep. he takes one glance at you before he’s kissing you, shoving his tongue down your throat as he locks the door behind him. “stop it,” he murmurs against your lips while he backs you into the couch. “just stop,”

he reached underneath your shirt, groping at your breasts. you can feel his hardening cock against your thigh, blocked only by his sweatpants. “what are you—shit—talking about?” you ask, feeling samu bite down near your collarbone, sucking at the skin. you don’t push him away, letting him manhandle you like he always does.

one of his hands slips past your shorts, eager to touch the cunt he’s missed so much. “talk to me,” he says, teasing your clit before sliding two of his fingers inside. you cry out, fingers reaching to tug on his hair as he stretches your walls out. “say my fuckin name,”

“samu!” you sob as his fingers topple you over the edge, you should be embarrassed at the squelching sounds your cunt makes as samu fucks you with his fingers but the twisted part of you missed having him on top of you. “please…”

he knows you well enough to understand what you want and usually he would tease you about it, calling you a whore for his cock but he can’t really call you out when he’s been desperate for your attention the past few weeks. samu rips your shorts off as he strips himself of his own sweats. he lets out a relieved grunt when he’s finally inside you.

it feels different than normal. samu doesn’t usually bother with waiting for you to adjust to his size before he’s thrusting into you but this time he waits until you give him the okay to keep going. “can’t fuckin disappear on me like that,” he groans, forcing you to look at him while he fucks you. his eyes never leave yours while he snaps hips into you, making you whine from sensitivity. “don’t do it again.”

you wrap your legs around him, trying to meet his thrusts but he’s so much stronger than you. “samu…”

he picks up the pace. “don’t. do. it. again.” he repeats himself, slamming into you with every word. this time away from you won’t stop him from calling you a dumb bitch in the future or hogging up all your time. but at least you know that you have some kind of power over him.

osamu really can’t function without you.

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #osamu miya #miya osamu smut #osamu headcanons #miya osamu x reader #osamu smut #osamu #miya osamu #osamu x reader #haikyu smut #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #🥀#🥀osamu #bully!osamu #bully!hq

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avtrbee · 3 years

Text

in the beginning

a/n: wow! thank you so much for all the love you gave me with never! i never expected that kind of reaction :> here's another gojo fic I wrote a couple months back, you can consider it as a prologue of the relationship or smth but it can also be a stand-alone. the fic was longer, where I included what happened directly after the wedding but I felt like this had a better conclusive ending. i can post it as part two if you want please enjoy the fic and don't hesitate to comment with some criticisms or your general feelings abt the fic! thank you once again!

summary: the beginning of y/n and gojo

my masterlist The night was quiet, aside from the calming buzz of cicadas. The cool air blows gently between both of you, lifting your hair as if you were inside some commercial. It was full and bright from where you stand with Gojo (Satoru, you quickly correct yourself. You’d be a Gojo soon enough), bathing you in the moonlight. If you were any other person, you’d think you were in some romantic getaway with your lover. Unfortunately, that was not the case. The reality was much crueler.

It was calm before the storm.

“I…” Satoru starts. “...I’m not ready to be a father, Y/N.” His body faces the beautiful scenery of lush trees in front of you with his hands in his pockets, but his face is slightly tilted to you. His usual blindfold is off, replaced by the shades you’d given him back then, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his striking eyes.

You scoff. “You’re telling me this now when we’re getting married tomorrow?” You roll your eyes in another direction, to anywhere but Satoru. Your tone was cold and hard as you felt the bitter anger rise in you again at the reminder that you were to be expected to breed like cattle, all for a hopeful offspring that can inherit your Cursed Techniques or be somehow stronger than Satoru.

The anger quickly died down as you glanced at him in your peripheral vision. Satoru was in this too, he was to be expected to breed with you, forced to raise his future children to be a soldier in a world they didn’t choose like the both of you at this moment. You make the mental note to be considerate of his feelings as well. That’s what marriage is about anyway. Right?

His childhood was pleasant from an outsider's point of view; born with techniques that make him a god, a silver spoon in his mouth, and hails from one of the three great clans. But that suffocated him. It's why Satoru is so carefree with a happy-go-lucky vibe and a problem with authority. They have dictated everything he did since he was born. You and Satoru are fools if you don't realize that the same will be done to your children.

“I’m not ready to be a mother too,” you confess, tone softer, laced with understanding. I never wanted to be one in the first place, you think but don’t bother to say. It doesn’t matter. You’re going to have to be one soon enough. “But they’re going to expect an heir and several spares as soon as possible.”

Then it was silent again, Satoru not bothering to contradict your statement. It was a fact, and it's what triggered the series of events that led you here anyway.

Some of you wonder if Satoru has ever wondered about a family of his own with a wife he actually chose. Against your better judgment, you decide to ask him exactly that. Communication is the key to any relationship, right?

“Have you ever dreamed of a family with a wife you love?”

You expected him to look at you and giggle, some half-meant tease running out of his mouth. Instead, he turned to you fully, glasses lowered, and stared. “Have you?” he asked, throwing your question back at you.

“Family? No.” You answered. “But a spouse...once in a while.” You admit, lowering your head, staring at the ground instead. You have not admitted this to anyone. Despite knowing that the possibility of you getting married off to another clan was rather great, the idea of having a family with someone you don’t love seemed meaningless. That and your utter fear of pregnancy and childbirth. You’ve seen many friends struggle with issues that are rooted in bad parenting. You don’t want that. You don’t ever want that. A spouse, however...that was a dream you’d let yourself dream when your guards are down.

“Nevertheless, they will demand a child from us. They will have a cruel fate,” you muse, staring at the ground. “If they get our cursed techniques, they’ll become a toy. If they don’t, they’ll be shamed. I don’t want that.”

"No, they won't." He replies in a firm voice. I'll protect them, goes unsaid in the cool air. You find yourself agreeing. We'll protect them.

You feel fingers below your chin, pushing your head back up for your gaze to meet with Satoru’s. His glasses were off, and you concluded that you’d never get tired staring at his eyes. It was breathtakingly blue as if there were oceans and ice glaciers hidden underneath. He stares at you for a few moments and you let him. You feel him search for something in you before curling his lips into a smile.

“Alright! It’s settled, then!” He exclaims the usual joy back in his voice. “We'll make it work, Y/N-chan.”

The disbelief escapes from your mouth before you could even control it. “Y/N-chan?” you repeat scandalized. You were many things to Gojo Satoru and he has called you such. You’d been L/N when you first met, Y/N when you got closer, 'kouhai' when he wanted to brag about how powerful he was, 'wifey' when after the announcement of your engagement or when he’s feeling mischievous in front of anyone (“We aren’t married yet, Gojo-san.” You’d remind him every time), but he has never called you Y/N-chan. You cringe.

“Whaaat?” He whines, a pout forming on his face. “You don’t like it? How about darling? I heard British people say it to each other during my visit to Europe! Dah-ling.” Satoru tried, purposefully lowering his voice, trying his hardest to have a British accent.

You burst out with a laugh, squeezing your stomach, folding over. Your eyes were squeezed shut in bliss, lost in a brief moment of happiness so you don’t see Satoru smiling softly at your laughing form.

Once you’ve calmed down, you turn away and start walking towards the path to the Gojo residence. “Let’s go, they’re probably looking for us.”

“Pbshhh,” Gojo replied, hurrying to your walking figure. “They’d probably think we’re doing something naughty~”

“Oi!” You scolded, pulling his ear. “Someone might hear you!” You could imagine the possibilities. You’d never know when someone can be hiding in the dark. You suddenly imagined the possible situation that your own father would’ve heard him. Not only would you be embarrassed, but he would most likely give you and Satoru a proud nod. He and the other Elders were the ones who pioneered your marriage anyway.

Gojo rolled his eyes at you. “It’s not like we aren’t allowed to do it.” He said with a huff. “You’re going to be my wifey!”

“We’re not married yet, Satoru.”

Though you’d come back to the residence the way you left, with your hands behind your back and his hidden underneath his pockets, the atmosphere between you was not as cold as before.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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the-devils-girl94 · 3 years

Text

A Heated Nightly Gaming Session

Prompt: Popsicle Licking

Characters: Leviathan x Fem! MC

Content Warnings: A slightly Dom!MC, blowjobs, teasing Levi

A Fic for @voltage-vixen 's Summer of Smut Challenge! Enjoy!

××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

Knock, knock.

Your knuckles tapped against a large door and you heard a voice call out,

"Who is it?

"Levi, it's me, (Y/N). I'm here for our nightly gaming sesh," you answered. You held up a bag of snacks and treats. "I brought some snacks. Hope you don't mind that some of them are popsicles."

You heard the mechanics of the locks switching. And the tall door swung open to reveal a tank top wearing Levi, who blushed when he saw that you were also wearing a tank top and shorts. He averted his eyes from wandering to your chest.

"Th-thanks! I don't mind, (Y/N). I think it's more of a life saver since the heat has been so crazy," he stammered.

You noticed a bit of sweat on him, but it looked mostly dried. So you thought to yourself that he probably had some fans going full blast in his room. 'A life saver, indeed,' you thought as you smiled, handing him the bag to rummage through. The Avatar of Envy beamed when he saw the popsicles and saw that some were of his favorite flavors. He stepped to the side and saluted you for these offerings. You chuckled at his antics as you passed him and Levi followed suit, letting the door close behind him.

Your assumption of him having fans was correct. However, you didn't expect to see a huge fort assembled out of blankets and 4-5 fans surrounding said fort blowing into the entrance. The inside had lots of pillows strewn about and floor lights tucked on each side to keep the blanket from blowing away. It looked cozy and cool. But you had to tease him about it because why not?

"Wow, Levi. You're really going all out, huh?," you swirled around to face him with a smirk on your face. "You sure this isn't a date?"

The poor soul stopped in his tracks and his face erupted into a deep shade of red. His voice became slightly high-pitched as started to stumble and tumble over his words, trying to explain that it wasn't like that. "H-h-hold on, (Y/N)! It's not like that at all! You know its hot and I can't stand the heat! I just wanted to build a fort so I could utilize the best way to cool down and I-," he talked fast, so fast that his words were almost blending together.

You could see his mind swirling like a hypnotizing illusion as he explained away and you just had to stop him before you got thrown into the whirlwind too. Placing your hand on his forearm, Levi shut himself up. "Levi," you spoke softly, "you know I was just teasing, right?"

"Huh!? Oh, yeah, but still- I mean, that was mean of you, but you know," he scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks tainted pink. He avoided your eyes as he told you, "It could be a date if you want it to be."

You smiled and took his hand, startling him. You dragged his butt into the fort and sat him down next to you. "Then it shall be a date, O' Lord of the Shadows," you declared in your most impressive Medieval voice.

Leviathan's eyes startled sparkling and he nodded his head at you. "Th-thank you, Henry!"

_____________________________________

"Ooh, he's on the attack, Levi! Get him!"

"Crap, I see him but I can't get to him yet! I need to take out this guy first!"

You watched with bated breath as Levi tried his best to survive an ambush in a new game he bought. Luckily for you, it wasn't a game you could get sucked into, but it was certainly entertaining to watch the Avatar of Envy play. So far, Levi had managed to take out a bunch of enemies, but the one he was currently struggling with was so powerful. It gave the chance for a few of the enemies who were still standing to gain the upper hand by trying a sneak attack.

You whined as you worried about whether this would be a victory or a loss. But, unbeknownst to you, Levi had a trick up his non-existent sleeve. You gasped when all of a sudden the most powerful enemy ended up falling when Levi pulled a combo move and cheered when the victory image popped up. Leviathan whooped as you cheered and the both of you cheer a high five.

"That was amazing, Levi!," you praised, clapping your hands together. His cheeks turned a light pink, but he grinned at you. "It was no problem," he said. "These games are no match for an otaku such as myself."

You chuckled and reached for the bag of treats you bought earlier. Lots of the contents of the bag were eaten except for the popsicles, which you noticed were starting to melt a bit. You grabbed two that were more solid than the rest and handed one to Leviathan. "Here. I think this one is your favorite," you said, placing the cold trear in his hand. "We should eat these up before they melt. The others certainly did."

"Ah, ok. Thanks, (Y/N). I kinda want to take a break from gaming right now."

Unwrapping your popsicle, you asked, "Then do you want to put on an anime instead?"

To that, Levi shook his head. "Actually...I was wondering if you wanted to cuddle. It is supposed to be a...a date, right?"

Your eyes widen at him. You were almost shocked that he even managed to say the word 'cuddle' without stuttering. You found yourself another perfect opportunity to tease him, so you sent a gentle smile his way and nodded. You popped your popsicle into your mouth and crawled towards Leviathan. He jumped slightly when you placed yourself right on his lap, making it hard for the poor demon to focus his gaze on anywhere else besides your bosom and making him drop his popsicle. You smirked inwardly because you knew he had to stare at either your chest or your eyes. And he could never stare into your eyes for long without feeling like his face was about to explode.

"So how do you want to cuddle, Levi?," you slowly took out your popsicle, making sure that your slurping was pretty obvious. You licked your lips and Leviathan's eyes followed. "Is it okay if we cuddle in this position or do you want me to be the little spoon?"

The purple haired demon gulped. Your sex appeal was over 9000! He knew you were teasing him and it was working. He thought it was a bit unfair how his lust for you was building up just by a few actions by you. He sighed, his ears hot and reddened, and you felt strong arms wrap around your middle, catching you by surprise. Your popsicle dropped when he buried his face into your chest and it was your turn to be flustered.

"H-hey, Levi! So you do want to cuddle like this, huh?," you still tried to tease but you were stammering. Levi's grip on you tighten and you soon felt something poking you in your nether regions. 'O-oh. Oh!,' you thought.

"I went too far in teasing you again, didn't I?," you brought your hand to ruffle his hair. The Avatar of Envy whined which vibrated through your chest, making you giggle. "Sorry, sorry, you big baby," you apologized, laughing softly.

"You know that's unfair, (Y/N). You can't keep teasing me like this."

"Then do you want to help you?," you replied, showing him that you were willing by grinding down on him. Levi stifled sucked in a sharp breath. He looked up into your eyes, lust swirling, which you met. "Might wanna answer. You feel as if you're rock hard, Levi," you grinded down again but more slowly.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," groaned Levi who decided fuck it and smashed his lips against yours. You gasped at the sudden action, your lips parting open enough for Leviathan's tongue to slip in. His tongue was forked like a serpent's and it started to explore and taste every part of the inside your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, feeling the heat building up in your core. It didn't help much that Leviathan was bucking his hips, rubbing his cock against your clothed sex. You deepened the kiss, tongues swirling and dancing as the two of you dry humped each other.

Levi could taste the flavor of that popsicle you had earlier and couldn't help but think of how delicious it tasted. He wanted to go to the next step, feeling the need to be inside you. His cock throbbed with the urge to feel you surrounding his cock. His grip on you started to lessen and you could feel his hands drop down to your hips right above your shorts. He started to tug on them, so you broke the kiss to grab his hands, panting softly. "Do you want to take these off me?," you asked. Though you would've chucked them even if he didn't want to.

Levi nodded, too focused on wanting to fuck you to say anything. You stood and put your hands on his shoulders for balance, feeling his fingers go under the fabric. Your shorts slid off with ease but he didn't remove your panties. Instead he pulled you back into his lap, leaving them on. Of course you caught on and smirked at him. You opted to say nothing this time to not embarrass him, but you did push him so that he fell backwards.

"(Y-Y/N)!," he started, but you shushed him with a finger. You grabbed the hem of his sweatpants and he watched as you pulled them back. His cock sprang forward, a string of precum leaking from the tip. It looked absolutely delicious to you.

Wrapping your hand around the base, you set a firm grip on it, causing Levi to wince. Not from the pain but from the pleasure of physical contact. It felt so solid and hard in your hand and you leaned down to flick the tip with your tongue.

"Aah, shit!," groaned Levi. His hands had flown to cover his face since he didn't want to put them on your head. You gave his cock another lick before sliding the tip into your mouth. The Avatar of Envy bucked his hips but he didn't get much farther that you would allow. You swirled your tongue around the head of Levi's cock before you started to bob your head. Every time you went down, you would take more of his cock into your mouth until your nose was buried into a purple patch of pubes. Your sex pulsated and dripped with need everytime his dick hit the back of your throat. All the while, all Levi could chant was your name over and over.

You soon released him when you saw that you had completely covered his dick in your saliva. Crawling back on top of him, you removed your tank top, letting your breast feel the cool air surrounding you two. "You can remove your hands from your face, Levi. I want you to see me," you gently moved his hands away, only to see a completely flustered Leviathan. His eyes were half lidded and lust filled, his face redder than a tomato. Drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth and onto the pillow beneath his head.

"Oh my," you smirked. "You look like you're experiencing true bliss right now, Levi. Are you aching to cum right now?"

You lowered your body so that your breasts were squished against his chest. You caressed his face before kissing him, which he eagerly returned. You both started to sit up, your arms wrapped his neck and legs around his waist, and his hands found their way back to your hips once more. He broke the kiss to put his head on your shoulder and went to move your panties to the side. You could feel him trembling, hurrying with his movements to finally get inside you.

You whined low in your throat when you felt his cock pushing against your opening. You hugged him tightly and squealed when he pushed past your opening and every inch of him slid inside you. "Fuck, fuck, Levi," you groaned and heavily panted. He kissed your cheek as a way to apologize and waited a moment to move for you to adjust to his size.

Once the moment had passed, you immediately knew that you weren't heading back to your room anytime soon. At first, he started at a slow pace but they got faster and faster until your mewls turned to moans and your moans turned to you chanting his name over and over. The sound of skin slapping and the squelching sound of your pussy taking in his cock in every thrust fills the room.

Leviathan's grip on your hips tightened and you found yourself on your back being pounded away at. His balls slapping against your ass.

"(Y/N)~, you feel so good! So fucking tight, so fucking wet," moaned Levi. Your pussy clenched at every thrust he gave you, making you scream/moan to the point you couldn't reply back with how good he was making you feel. His thrusts were becoming erratic and that was a sign for you that he was about to cum. "L-Levi, I want you to cum in-," you got cut off by him sealing your lips with a kiss as he gave one final thrust, spilling his seed deep inside of you. You could feel his cock twitching inside of you as he came.

You kept your legs wrapped around him as you two continued to make out until you both needed air. You both broke away, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you before breaking, panting heavily. There was a moment of silence between you two as you had to catch your breath. Levi was drenched heavily in sweat which was dripping a bit on you. A hand touched your cheek and a kiss was planted on your forehead by the Avatar of Envy. You gave him a sweet smile and broke the silence, saying, "I think I would love our nightly gaming dates more if we did this often."

Leviathan blushed at your statement and replied, "Y-yeah, me too. Let's get you cleaned up."

He tried to move so that he could get up, but your legs locked him in place. He felt hands going up his tank top, feeling over his stomach up to his chest. He gasped when your legs made him thrust up into your pussy. He looked down at you, lust darkening his eyes once more when he heard you whine his name.

"Levi~, make me cum first."

((This is the longest fic I have ever written, bruh. My brain hurts from braining but this was the home stretch. I hope you guys like it. It's the first of many even if I don't make it to the 20th to get done with the prompts that I have, but I will still post them since I know it will haunt me.))

#lexi writes #obey me!#summer of smut #obey me leviathan #leviathan #leviathan x mc #obey me character x mc #obey me smut #enjoy this smutty post

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